Whoo-Hoo! Did you feel that? We just went around Darkness Corner. Not that circles have corners, but — zipping along at 67 thousand miles per hour — we just swung past the point of longest night and shortest day.
For those of us north of the equator anyway.Those of you below it must regret the days starting now to get shorter. My condolences. (If it’s any consolation, the Earth’s speed is 107 thousand kilometers per hour.) Naturally the Way-Back link is to the 2012 Winter Solstice post.
This empyrean reason for the holiday demands extra-special music…
After an analysis of Santa’s physical parameters, we’re still curious about the Claus. Does Santa, in fact, have claws? They would certainly help with chimneys. A question of quite some interest is: Does Santa have sex (in the biology class sense)? If so, ♂ or ♀?
The Way-Back link is to Santa: Man or Woman? It’s my only small claim to fame on WordPress — it’s the only post I’ve had Freshly Pressed! (How ironic it wasn’t a piece I actually wrote. It’s another fax or email “share” from the neolithic era of technology.)
And now, more music…
I’m not sure Eric Clapton is the greatest guitar player ever. I can think of a number of other guitar “gods” that seem in his class (Carlos Santana and Lindsey Buckingham, to name just two). But I am pretty sure the late (great!) George Carlin was without peer. I can’t think of anyone else who lasted longer (50 years!), worked harder, gave us so many classic bits or been more consistently good. He died in 2008, at 71, having done his 14th HBO special just four months earlier.
I thought he went through an angry period (the 1990s, maybe?) where he seemed to lash out indiscriminately at everything and everyone. He seemed a little less funny to me then, but he was never really wrong… just angry. I only ever really disagreed with him once.
And that was on his view that you shouldn’t vote.
Just about all of 2012 is in my rear-view mirror now. It joins well over 50 others, most of them so far back they are lost in the mist and fog of life. My car moves forward at its full legal pace: 24 Hours Per Day, just like the markers say. (You do not want to be pulled over by the causality cops for violating the reality limit. The fines are truly Lovecraftian.)
Up ahead I see the border markers for 2013. Less than six hours away, so there’s no need for more stops. It’s an easy drive, and there’s something very poignant about watching the last mile markers roll past. This is country passed through once, never visited again.
It’s a time to look back in my mirror for some last glimpses of the path traveled.
Those of you who grew up with Rock & Roll probably heard your parents say, “That music all sounds the same.” (The implication: Therefore it’s crap.)
The funny thing is: To me, their music all sounded the same (and to some extent, still does). No doubt the music of my children will all sound the same to me (assuming I had any (which I don’t (and now it’s not likely I ever will (not that I’m bitter (yeah, right))))).
Truth is, I really have no ear for rap… it, um, all sounds the same to me. That may have more to do with having really bad hearing. I frequently cannot make out the lyrics of songs. Often, for me, the vocal track is just another melodic track that sounds like a human voice. And in any event, rap, to me, is more a form of poetry than of music.
Over the years, I’d noticed how my parents (and other lovers of classical music) could identify a symphony after hearing just a small bit. “Oh, yeah, that’s Foomhauser’s Opus #52 in P-flat Minor.” That seemed amazing and mysterious to me, but then I realized that I can do the same thing with rock. No doubt we can all identify music we’ve listened to over and over.