Drunk Evenings with a Guitarist

This shall be a short post. Thats not to say I don't have the unsaliable urge to write more, but this is the way these things work.

This week, I've been obsessing over a quote by a guy called Guy De Mapessant. It goes, "Words and phrases can be mimed by the face, but black ink on white page is the soul laid bare".

Now this intruiges me. In some way, it demeans a lot of simpler artforms, (songwriting, playwriting to ceratin extent), and that kind of gets my goat. I mean, honestly, who is some 19th century intellectual to tell me how to appreciate work. Though, he does have a point.

I look at "Britains got talent" and other such nonsence; and I see young children being praised for their ability to sing Puccini. Fair play they can sing, but can they sing Puccini? It takes gall, passion and most importantly, balls to sing Puccini with conviction. These kids are the Argos catalougue of opera. And it aggrevates me.

Call me shallow. Its the fucking truth.

Now dont get me wrong, I'm not badmouthing these kids. They're very talented. I'm badmouthing the people who tell them they have a "wonderous talent". I mean, lets be honest, there are many of people, their age, who could sing these pieces with more conviction than them, they just won't resort to trying to impress Piers Morgan every saturday night.

And in all of this, Pucinni wanted to see oassion. He wanted wonder in his writing. Thats what he asked of the performer...from conception to 21st century manuscript.

I dont know where i'm going with this.

And seriously, whats up with the Beehives video?

x.