I
once owned a Beastie Boys best of. Two CDs under the title “The
Sounds of Silence”.
I don't know why but that sounds like a confession. It shouldn't.
Everyone likes the Beastie Boys don't they? Not my dad but then, my
dad thinks white rap is an invasion of another culture's rightful
heritage; it's like stealing, he says, taking the musical and
cultural identity of a race and subsuming it into one's own, bland
culture. We always start off calmly, discussing the roots of hip hop,
then usually get into an argument about the merits of sampling, and
it descends into a kind of name-calling one-upmanship. Like
an epic
rap battle only whiter. More
middle class. I don't know, maybe he has a point, but
then Hip Hop was founded on sampling and found sounds so
why shouldn't other
cultures return the favour. Why can't well just get along?
He won't listen to reason.
But I like the Beastie
Boys anyway. It's my job as son to rebel.
Don't know
where that collection disappeared to. eBay, probably. Remember eBay? It was like Amazon only it had a different name and instead of
having a set price that made it easy to purchase the things you
wanted, it made you bid with unseen foes for something you very
quickly realised you probably didn't need. Like
Japanese women's underwear.
As
best ofs go, it was pretty
good. It had their hits
and singles but it's unique selling point was that all the songs were
chosen by the boys
themselves. You know, rather than some corporate conglomerate getting together in their
suits and ties and long tied back hair and sunglasses even though
they're indoors and laughing hysterically and
drinking Champagne as they
randomly select songs they've probably never even listened to, based
on song titles and sales and trying to rip off you, the consumer.
Down with capitalism, that's
what I say. Boo capitalism.
So
anyway, why I'm bringing it up is this – it used to be an amazing
set list to walk to. The kind of set list that puts a stride in your
pace, that when played loud on proper ear-phones to the detriment of
all outside sounds, becomes the perfect accompaniment for that
sojourn to whereever. I
used to imagine that though no one else could hear what I was
hearing, they could tell by the way I used my walk that I was
listening to loud hip hop. And they would respect me for it.
I'm
kind of obsessed with music. I need melodic noise, I can't operate
without it in fact. Alongside coffee it's my main stimulant. First
thing in the morning, last thing at night and almost all day. And I
can't just grab a choon and listen to it either,
absolutely no way. The music I listen to has to go with the moment I
am existing in. It goes beyond happy and sad, I need music that fits
the kettle. I need music that I can get dressed to, brush my teeth
to, and reorganise my CD collection to. No
scattershot whimsy in my musical world, hell no. I can tell you
categorically that the best music to get dressed to is Techno. And
the best music to fall asleep to veers between Phaedra-era Tangerine
Dream, and any black metal album you can care to mention. Thing about
black metal is, it's theatrical, operatic, it tells a story. And
there's nothing better to fall asleep to than a bedtime story.
So
obviously it stands to reason that I need music made to walk to. It's
a perilous occupation leaving my apartment. There are other people
out there, ready to impose their will and conversation onto your day.
They may want to talk to you, they may want you to acknowledge them,
they may want you to STOP AND CHAT!!!! This is a loss of control I'm
not ready to handle without a soundtrack (
and earphones I can use as an excuse when someone later exclaims “you
totally snubbed me in the street last week”. Oh, sorry bro –
totally listening to music ).
I
need a soundtrack. I need music to shut the outside world off while I
go about my business.
Thing
about music is, like any stimulant, it's a mood-and-mind-altering
substance. I discovered this early in life when I used to
spontaneously burst into tears whenever my uncle put on Ennio
Morricone's peerless “The Good The Bad and The Ugly” soundtrack.
I was overwhelmed by the sounds, by the busy and strange beauty of the
music. The atmosphere. I still well up to this day when I hear The
Ecstasy of Gold.
While
I was in high school I discovered the joys of the Sony Tape Walkman. When not chewing up my favourite tapes ( I'm convinced that
the proliferation of bootlegging originally occurred because tape
users got so sick and tired of losing their favourite albums that
they simply got used to bootlegging them and using the bootlegs
instead of the originals
), the tape walkman was an absolute god-send.
It allowed me, during what was a difficult couple of years at school,
to shut off and disappear into my own world. I got and remain addicted.
This addiction began, as
all addictions do, with experimentation. I would listen to Jean
Michel Jarre while reading. That's where it always begins.
I
quickly moved onto the harder stuff. Rave music while sitting on the
bus.
The
Prodigy in the back of the car.
808
State on the way down to the town centre.
Before
I knew it I was slipping fast into the sleazy world of The Art of
Noise while trying to sleep.
My
addiction knew no bounds. It still doesn't. But here's the thing, the
thing about choosing music to walk to. I discovered that certain
types of music gave me extra confidence
as I listened on my way to work. Sure, a part of that was peer based
– it's a lot cooler, when asked, to tell your peers you're
listening to The Beastie Boys, or Slipmatt and Lime, or
Linkin Park or whoever, than
to splutter out “I'm listening to Rendezvous by Jean Michel Jarre.”
But
it's in the music too. Hip Hop, Metal, Techno, and Trip Hop are just
great musics to walk to. They're
made for movement so it's no surprise. I
later discovered the joys of
applying atmospheric music to the world around me, first travelling
to and from college listening to The Black Dog and dark ambient music
such as Scorn and the Aphex Twin's Volume Two, and latterly walking
down Wexford main street listening to Alec Empire.
Getting
up, getting out, doing
things
when, like me, you spend much of your day alone can be a chore. I
have been told I exude confidence, that I appear laid back. In truth
I spend most of my life terrified. Of what? Don't know. It hasn't
happened yet, so maybe that's what I'm worried about. But I've
learned to pretend. And part of that pretence is in realising that,
when I leave the house, the choice of music blasting in my poor,
over-used ears has a massive impact on my emotion, on my personality,
and how I interact with others. I used to struggle
with an inability,
catching eye-contact with people. It's something I'm still working
on. In certain, contrived circumstances, I can do it. In the pub. In
my own home. Acting. Or
with people I am close to. Elsewhere, in someone's else's home, in
the street, in the shop, job interviews or with people I actively
dislike, not so much.
The
choice of music can make all the difference out there in the real
world. In my cossetted womb-like apartment I can afford to listen to
albums, to choose a body of work and spend a day listening to it. I
can listen to “Music for Babies” in safety. I can listen to a
full album knowing that, generally speaking, I won't be interrupted. I still have to choose specific music for specific moments though. Best tea-making music? Anything by Ozric Tentacles. Fact.
Out
there in the real world I need that extra boost, I need music I can
walk to. That
walk might just be five minutes to the left, to Tesco. It might be a
walk along the seafront. Or it might be a walk out to a rehearsal, to
a job, or to the pub.
So what does a piece of music require before I can walk to it? Before I can air it in my ears as I'm pummelling along the pavement? It's hard to quantify, but being obnoxious helps, I think. It needs the bang and throb of rhythm, it needs a pace. It also needs an atmosphere, sometimes if not always upbeat. Well lookit, here's the thing - what works works, and what doesn't doesn't.
Here then is a list of those songs and choons that I have found, across the years, to work for me, to boost my confidence while walking in the real world. It's not in order. It's just the way I'm calling them.
Here then is a list of those songs and choons that I have found, across the years, to work for me, to boost my confidence while walking in the real world. It's not in order. It's just the way I'm calling them.
And obviously, any angry hip hop song from the late eighties you can care to mention.
And
here are a few more atmospheric pieces that can help alter your mood
and perception if you're walking through a busy town, and perhaps
feeling the claustrophobic pinch!
So that's it. I'm obsessed with music and addicted to the stimulus it provides. It is mind-pornography really.
But I'm okay with that if you are. And if you're not, I won't be able to hear you. I've got my earphones. I've got music I can walk to.
Sorry bro. Was totally in another world.
Dom
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