just few nights back we had (yet) another arguments about my choice of songs.He simply could not understand why the damn hell i downloaded arrays of angry/oldie/weird songs and made his file all jammed up with them.
while my husband is more into those hippity-hoppity kinda songs, i listened more to anything other than his kind.I've nothing against black music, in fact, i love black music.But,in another genre...
Personally I used to listen to Eminem’s(ok, so he's not black, i know. But he sings blacks' songs.Duh!) music with pleasure. The lyrics seemed so exotic and the message so warped, that it was hard for me to imagine this is anything other than a fair satire, farse and leg-pulling (as is the case in the Borat movie). Not to mention his knack for rhymes and musical savvy. Musically in his day he brought a lot of innovation into the mainstream industry, innovation that even now is difficult to imitate. He definitely is an interesting artist (which Moby had justfully acknowledged).Then, he just got weird..(full-stop).
So, under what conditions does music “mean something” to us?
Does your playlists consists of the songs that only the other cool kids are listening to?
As for myself, i want music that talks to me.i want music that's visceral.i want instruments to speak — melody, screams, guttural sounds — I want the music to make me feel emotions i may not want to feel.
And when this music made me nervous, relaxed, freaked out, and nearly gave me a panic attack - that is it...(damn, i describe my earwax better than my sex life!)
and just the other night too, we realised we still had one thing in common.while we were driving to sheng shiong, he puts on Mariah Carey's old songs.With the window's screens down, wind blew in our directions, we sang our heart out "....i give my all to have..." We love Mariah Carey (no, he loves her more btw!).
