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Music Mon, 21 March 05 I am running out of inspiring ideas and creative material to put into these columns. This, and general laziness brought about by lack of funds (feel free to cure me), are the reasons for the lack of recent updates. So if anyone has anything that would make good column material, please feel free to let me know. I will assume that anything that doesn't say otherwise has your permission to be used here. Please send any wierd links, random comments, glorious fanmail, quirky news items or somewhat confused pizza orders to me here. But, if you need to get in touch with me, please be aware that the answer might already be in my FAQ, reposted here for your convenience: "Q: Sam... you haven't seen my- A: I don't know what happened to your dog! Why would I! Q: That's not what I was- A: IT WASN'T ME! Q: No, really- A: Why would I sell it. And how irresponsible do you think I am! You can't prove nothing! SLANDER!" Now, without further ado, and with half a page cunningly wasted, I turn to the subject this was MEANT to be about. Music. I started thinking about this when a friend of mine mentioned about trying to find a band for her 18th birthday. Being the kind and generous person that I am, I promptly volunteered the services of me and Laura, armed with some form of tamboureen. Due to what I can only assume to be an irrational hatred of tamboureen duets, my friend politely declined. Now - I'm not someone to get hung up over rejection. No, I am someone who, having been struck down, will get back up and try again; offering to throw in Ryan's services on the triangle. The answer was still no. It's obvious that, until I can locate a didgeridoo, this particular formula for musical success is doomed to failure, just like so many other of my amazing ideas. My idea to give fish their own talk show, for example, should by all rights have been a cult-phenomenon, but unfortunately this too was held back by the lack of a didgeridoo. Some attempts of mine in the field of song-creation were, to put it mildly, unsuccessful. But on the other hand, I have discovered a rather effective innate self-defense mechanism. (Squid secrete ink, snakes secrete venom, and cows produce McDonalds' burgers; I scream out a verbal assault of killer-deccibalic destruction - it's the beauty of nature). I hope to eventually hone this quirky talent into a full on martial art, capable of doing battle with the true greats - like Karate, Juditsu and the ancient of art of Indoor-Yodelling, but for now it's limited in its use - being suited only to day-to-day occurances; such as scaring off salesmen and cutting a path through busy crowds. But why should I fail so spectacularly? After all, I do posess vocal cords, and a doctor confirmed that they were not only "in full working order", but were also a "class three deadly weapon". So then why does a vocally-endowed youth like me experience such difficulty in producing musical singing? Another friend suggested that this might be because of something called "melody". Disturbed by this news, I returned to my vocal-cords examiner, who assured me that "No Sam. You've not caught melody. You CAN'T CATCH melody!" - I assume this is because the excellent health of my vocal cords renders me immune. Kim, my loving girlfriend, assures me that my singing is "improving" - but she is also the woman who assures me that my writing is good, my driving is relatively safe, and, presumably, that my flying skills are "getting better". So I shall treat her opinions with caution, and stick to developing the martial-arts potential of my voice into something that can be useful in everyday circumstances - such as fending off people who've come to ask slanderous questions about their dog, or forcing someone to relinquish a didgeridoo Remember, if you see anything column-worthy, you can email me here - and this page DOES have a comments system. ;) - Sam Smith By Sam Smith. |
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