Things have been kinda strange as of late. Various people at the house have been sick (and now recovering, I think). The weather has been very bizarre too. Two things we almost never get in New England are: hot & dry and warm & extremely damp… at least not at the end of June. Warm & damp doesn't begin to describe the recent sog we've suffered through.
So the word I'm looking for is oppressive. Emotionally and physically oppressive. It's been a weird slide toward summer.
This being the 4th of July weekend in the States, you would think that I would have picked some big, blustery sort of music that would both kick off the weekend celebration and kick this nasty wet blanket of a mood squarely in the ass.
Well, that would have been a good idea because on top of all of whatever's been going on, I've been up very late several nights yakking on the phone with friends, culminating with last night's dinner with an old friend at a locale requiring a two hour drive home… through severe thunderstorms.
Yow. So when I got up this morning I had some nice John Astin-style dark circles underneath my eyes. Lovely.
Instead of blasting some VeryAmerican™ Bob Seger or whatever, I end up with a very British, very introspective Robert Fripp. I can't explain it. This is Fripp at his most… uhm… something. He calls them soundscapes and that they are.
Some folks might think that Fripp is being pretentious, what with titles like "Acceptance – Affirming," "Love Cannot Bear," and "Requiem – Affirming." No, I've read and listened to many an interview with the man and, basically, he is who he is. A musician with perhaps too many brain cells in that head. A musician who can listen to blissful classical music in his hotel room and then go onstage to commit aural violence with his guitar. A musician who recognizes his touring personality enough to refer to himself as "grumpy."
Also, a musician with big ears. Big enough to come up with these soundscapes, pretty much dripping with personality and hope. Or something.
Don't worry, I'll slap Live Bullet on the record player tomorrow.Powered by Sidelines