Flashing Back to a Song (or two) I CAN Like

Wednesday evening during a quick trip inside the pub for a moment to see about a horse, I heard a song playing in the background, a fairly popular hit from around 35 years ago.  As the weather is still quite pleasant, hardly anyone is sitting inside, preferring instead to take advantage of the open air without having to have any concerns about social distancing indoors.  Thus, the pub was empty, save for the young staff, who were not even born until about 15 years after the song came out.   I was mildly curious as to why they were listening to the playlist, but was more glad to actually hear the song, as it was a particular favorite when I was in school. 

The particular song was from an Australian band, and it prompted me to think about another Australian band from the time.  INXS was never my favorite band, but I quite liked them during the 80s, and saw them at least twice in concert.  I started listening to them circa 1983 or 1984, and part of that had to do with a guy, my lab partner in chemistry class, who was a huge fan.  A huge fan. 

As funny as he was, the guy was kind of a jerk.  But, I do not hold that against him.  I had a passion for music and specific groups and despite the common ground, that certainly doesn't mean we all have to be friends.  The thing that was cool about this guy is that he was quick to point out how good the early INXS stuff was.  And he was right.  

INXS did not really hit the US until 1986, so I was a little ahead of the game.  The particular album was quite successful stateside, as was their follow up in 1987.  However, I was already kind of moving on from the group, as my tastes were constantly broadening and diversifying.  

The album that did it for me was Shabooh Shoobah, from 1982.  For an album experience, it was just pretty darn good from start to finish.  And the final track, "Don't Change," is simply incredible. 

Hand's down, "Don't Change" is my favorite INXS song, and is the song I thought of when I was exiting the gent's in the pub Wednesday night.  

Whereas the song I listened to a couple of weeks ago (and mentioned in my last post) did nothing for me, "Don't Change" knocked me over right from the get go.  It had all the elements that make me love a song, and this particular one remains a specific favorite.  

Of course I looked at the "official" video of the song, which I never had bothered to do so many years ago.  The video, albeit dated, was certainly fitting for the time. 

Readers familiar with the band will recall that the band had all the elements fitting for being rock stars.  They look like rock stars, especially the lead singer.  (My chemistry partner had made a conscious effort to dress just like him, and actually did a fair job.)  

As cool as that might have been, it was the music, rather than their appearance, that appealed to me. 

When the band scheduled their tour dates for 1987, I was all over it, actually spending a premium to get slightly better seats in the venue.  I had waited several years for the opportunity, and was keen to go see them, even if they were already dropping down my list of faves.

I was not quite prepared for the throngs of female fans that were there specifically to see said lead singer perform.  Furthermore, I was not prepared that that the audience seemed to be familiar with only the latest release of the band, seemingly unaware that the band had already released several albums. 

As you do when attending a concert of a band, you always have a little list of the songs you hope and expect to hear.  I was looking forward to the show, but really only wanted to hear the one song. 

Because I had pretty good seats, people, girls for the most part, seemed to want to share my vantage point, and as the band continued to play, my little section grew in size.  On our row, there were probably 10 seats, but as the concert was coming to an end, there were at least 30 folks in the same area.  I thought to myself, "this is probably the one time in your high school experience that you will be standing among 20 really attractive girls, so enjoy it,"

And I did. 

It came time for the encore, and as we all waited in anticipation, I was the one person in the section that felt the electric charge as I heard the opening chords to the ONE song I wanted to hear. 

No one danced more lively or sang along with more enthusiasm than yours truly, and it was a brilliant moment. 

Only after the concert ended and the band left the stage did I realize that none of the people around me had ever heard that song.   Clearly the song did not touch them like it did me.  I sensed their disappointment, their confusion, but left it at that.   

Shabooh on them for missing out.  Shoobah for me for enjoying that moment. 

see you out there

Bryan

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A Box of Tinder, a Song I Cannot Seem to Like, and a Favorite Film

I credit two girls from high school with my introduction to Siouxsie.  One girl shared the same last name as me, which meant that we tended to sit right next to one another in those classes where the teacher sat us alphabetically, which was often.  Additionally, she and I were both in a similar curriculum, so for the better part of 3 years, we had about 75% of our classes together.  One of her closest friends, who I did not as well, ended up being taking the exact same electives as I was taking, which more or less filled up the other 25% of my high school time. 

These girls were not super close friends, but they were friends, all the same.  As one did in a big high school, you tended to get to know the people that share similar interests, and in this case, it was all about the music.  One day, Amanda and I were talking albums, and she pointed out that I did need to get better acquainted with Siouxsie.  I certainly was familiar with the band, if not really familiar, but was not quite as enthusiastically overwhelmed as these girls were.  

I gave the band another listen, and the impact was huge;  I remain quite the fan, and my appreciation for her music has never waned. 

Hence the soundtrack for today, which you can also listen to as soon as you decipher the hint from the title. 

This past week started with the receipt of a message from an old friend of mine.  She and I knew each other many years ago, and music is one of the things that brought us together.  She was more into hard rock, even metal, and I was absorbed in my own tastes, but there is always that bit of cross over.  She also has a bit of a thing for some of the electro-pop, synth stuff (think late 1980s).  

Her message from Monday was actually a follow up:  "Have you listened to the song, yet?"

The previous Friday, she sent me a link to a song that she had recently discovered.  The band is an American synth-pop band, probably about 15 years old.  Apparently they have put out several albums, and have some level of notoriety, but I obviously had never heard a thing about them.  Neither had she, come to that. 

Well, she was so overwhelmed by the one song she shared with me, she sent the message indicating that it might be something I would like. 

I had not given the music a listen, but her reminder prompted me to take a few minutes and check them out.  

My initial reaction was not very positive.  The song had plenty of elements where I should have been able to connect:  the bass hooks, the electronica, the unique singing voice. 

But I just could not get into it.  

Two or three more listens, as well as a few attempts with some of the other songs, did not change my impression. 

I wrote back to her, giving my honest opinion, but felt a little guilty.  She was familiar with my tastes 25 years ago, and even though those tastes remain rather similar, they are unsurprisingly no longer exactly the same.  I did not outright hate the song or the band, but just felt no connection at all.  I said as such in my message, being careful not to rip someone for liking something that I did not.  

During the course of the week, I related the story to a friend of mine, who is also a huge fan of music.  He summed things up with once sentence, "If I am not emotionally touched by the music, then that is it.  I won't really like it."

It made sense, and reminded me that this was exactly how I felt about the arts, particularly music.  But that feeling naturally extends to the likes of cinema, literature, architecture, painting, and so on. 

If it does not grab you emotionally, then you are less likely to make the connection. 

Of course, we all like to passionately discuss such topics with our contemporaries, and I have noticed that my experiences have changed through the years.  Numerous times I have posted that I have migrated from a position of "if you don't like what I like, screw you," to something much more accommodating, like, "hey, that is an interesting view, and thanks for sharing that music with me."

25 years ago, I was still learning how to become more accepting.  There were still times when I would enthusiastically share (or push) my current favorite band on someone, and feel a bit insulted if they did not share my passion.  It was a naive view, but I am aware that people still have this natural tendency. 

Take films, as another example.  People tend to scrutinize the reviews and the user ratings.  My sister usually avoids watching films where she reads the review-aggregation with a low score.  She always checks the review prior to watching the film. 

Her influence on this has caused me to check some reviews more than I care to admit, but normally I just launch myself into the film, and decide for myself how I feel about the work.  Sometimes, I to have to turn the film off 15 minutes in, as it is complete trash.  Other times, like with a 10 hour series I watched this past week, I found myself 3 episodes in, still intrigued, but also thinking, "gee, this show is not very good." 

I finished the last 4 episodes yesterday.  

And indeed.  The show was not very good.  

But that is fine.  I recognize that my opinion is different, but others might flock to it, saying it is the best martial-arts, science fiction, part Outlander, part Highlander, show put out in the past 5 years.  

In short, I simply found no emotional connection to the show. 

Late in the week, somewhat timely, I received a link to an article commemorating the 20 year anniversary of one of my favorite all time films.  

The author of the article talks about the impact of the film, which received worldwide acclaim, adding in her own personal view; she seems to like the film almost as much as me.  She also shared a few reviews from critics that were not very positive.  

The article was a good read, but gave me a couple of things to think about.  

For starters, I go back to my comment above, that this is one of my all time favorite films.  In fact, my blog profile lists the film as one of my faves; I remember listing it when I first set this blog up. The film simply ticked all the boxes of my criteria for "what makes me like this film so much."  The setting is brilliant, the soundtrack was world class, the story line is incredible, and of course, the actress playing the lead role was superb.  And cute. 

Packaged all together, I was simply emotionally overwhelmed.  

I remember gushing about the film with others, but I do not recall (keep me honest, Pablo and Chris) if I was ever pushing this film on others.   My recollection is that I just loved the film for me, because it touched me.  And that was more than enough. 

Sure, when I was in conversation with people who also mentioned that they had seen the film, it was easy to discuss the positive feelings the film tends to bring.  But I never ran up and down the streets proclaiming how great the film was.  I certainly never ran around forcing people to drop whatever they were doing and go see the film. 

The significant thing, which only came to my attention after reading the article, is that some people did not like the film.  

This never crossed my mind, not then, and not now, that someone might dislike the film.  It never occurred to me.  And again, that is quite okay.  

The film, of course, is Amélie.  I have watched the movie hundreds of times over the years, not only in the OV (French), but also in Spanish and German.  In fact, it is probably the one film that I have watched in all three languages, with equal enjoyment from all.  Sure, my preference is still the OV, partly for my appreciation for original version, and partly for my fondness for French people and culture.  

I think of the film rather often, primarily due to the connection I have always felt with the character, not so much because she is young, French, and cute (that is a different side of me), but because of her imagination, perspective, and character.  

With that, I am going to enjoy the rest of my Sunday, borrowing a quote from the article. 

"It is a fantasy that invites viewers to pause amid our everyday lives to find moments of quiet magic."

see you out there

Bryan

Selfishly Schlechtgelaunt

I had a very busy week last week, full of all kinds of hustle and bustle.  All of that is a good thing, but by Friday, I was feeling the effects, and was more than ready for the weekend. 

My Friday routine tends to involve picking up a pizza for dinner, catching up with my father on skype, and having a few beers at the pub.  As it was nearing 18h, I was still trying to wrap a few things workwise, but finally reached a stopping point.  I then called my pizza guy, who is now pretty familiar with my routine, himself.  "Zehn Minuten," he said as I finished telling him my order.  

I did a bit of work space tidy up in the next few minutes, then walked up the street to pick up my pies. I figured I would check in on my father when I got home, then head across to the local.  

As I left my apartment, I noticed a bit more activity going on at the pub, including what sounded like a DJ playing happy hour music.  I found that curious, but in possibly 15 minutes I would be able to check it out up close.  I just focused on the task at hand, making sure I had a mask with me (to go inside the restaurant), etc. 

Minutes later, the pizzas were safely in the kitchen, and I quickly tried to reach my father, but unsuccessfully.  No need to panic; I would catch him later in the evening or on Saturday. 

I recognize the slight risk involved when the beer to food ratio is not so balanced, and this has created one or two, um, let's call then incidents, when my Friday evening starts out on an empty stomach, then careens out of control when the "on the fence," part of the decision making process goes missing.  My plan always starts out well enough:  enjoy 3, maybe 4 beers during the "happy hour" time slot early Friday, then return home to dinner on the couch while enjoying a film. 

The other week was an excellent example.  Just as I was finishing the third beer, a couple of friends showed up, and of course I had to stick around. Two beers after that, another few people showed up, and on it went, until around 3am.  

This particular Friday evening, however, I had planned just for me.  I was interested in sticking to just a few beers, collect my thoughts as I recapped the busy and productive week, and possibly play an album or two in my head as a soundtrack.  I had been discussing PIL, The The, and The Cult with some folks in the previous days, so I had all kinds of playlists queued up in the brain. 

I quickly realized that my soundtrack was getting drowned out by the DJ, who was playing music that I simply did not feel like listening to.  In fact, as I found out that the pub was doing a joint promotion with a beer distributor; they had a bit of a festive atmosphere organized, with the music, decorations, and little stands for take away beers.  

I found my usual place, which was fortunately vacant, and knew that the evening would be somewhat shorter than originally planned.  Another friend showed up, saw the scene, and immediately expressed what I was already thinking, "This is not the way I want my Friday evening to go.  I wanted a bit of quiet time with a few friends and beers.  Not this party scene."

Then he left. 

Despite my disappointment at being in a festive atmosphere without wanting to be festive, I made the most of things, and did enjoy my alone time collecting my thoughts, and particularly liked it when it suddenly started pouring down rain.  Under the protection of the umbrella over my table, my beer and myself remained comfortable. 

Like I mentioned the other week, sometimes I prefer my pub visits to be solitary, with as little conversation as possible.  Because of the rain, I was pretty much guaranteed to have this, as the rainstorm certainly was not enticing to those patrons wanting to spend an evening sitting in a beer garden. 

One of the pub owners did come over for a few minutes, just to catch up and say hello. I wished him a happy belated birthday (he was on the list from last week), and I cheered him on as kept having to go clear the rainwater collecting on the awnings over the DJ station.  This involves a broom handle and you basically poke the top of the awning so that the water pours off onto the ground below.  

Sporadic rainstorms have been the norm as of late, and more than once, an unfortunate server has been walking by with a plate of food or a tray of beers, only to get water dumped on them.  I do appreciate these moments of free entertainment, I must say. 

That kept me occupied for another beer, and I started thinking about winding things down for the evening.  I was not letting the festive atmosphere put me in a bad mood, but it was so different from what I wanted, that I could not help but let it bother me a bit. 

It was one of those evenings where my list of people I felt like talking to was very, very short.  Maybe 3 or 4 people, but preferably not all at once.  

With a stroke of luck, one of those persons showed up; she had just finished working, herself, and was coming to join her boyfriend, who clearly had been at the pub from the onset of the festivities, joining his friends who were running the promotion. 

Maria is a good friend, and we actually had a nice conversation for half an hour, just talking about lots of different things. It was a really nice chat and made up for my evening that was not actually going to my original plan. 

The timing worked out fine.  She needed to go rescue her boyfriend, who was already starting to wobble, and I had reached my "on the fence" time.  I called the waitress over to cash out, said my goodbye to Maria, then headed home for a bit of quiet. 

Before sitting down for dinner, I decided to check in on my dad one more time, and found him online. We chatted for another hour, and I was glad to have gotten the weekly visit with him done before Saturday, when he himself had a full schedule planned. 

All things considered, it was not a bad night, but still, I was not in the best of moods, even while eating my pizza and watching an Agatha Christie film. 

I ended up falling asleep on the couch, but finally switched off the TV and went to bed. 

As for myself, I did not have a full schedule planned for Saturday.  I had a few to-dos, knew I would speak with my sister, and, because of some cooking preparation I had done Friday afternoon, I already had Saturday's meal mostly taken care of; I would need only to heat a few things up in the oven. 

I was looking forward to finally seeing a match that Arsenal could possibly win, but as I texted with a friend during the morning, we both discovered that not only was the match not going to be shown at the pub, it was not going to be televised at all.  

This irked me, as I had been looking forward to a catch up with my buddy, even with the continuance of the beer promo going on at the pub.  Meanwhile, I asked myself again why I have a subscription to skysports when I can't get to see the match I want. 

Even though I got my to-dos completed, I felt a bit pissed off about things Saturday afternoon, for no reason whatsoever.  

As football was not an option, I found a film to watch as I ate my Saturday afternoon meal.  I tend to eat heavier during the early-mid afternoon, sort of Spanish style, and that was all fine and good, but I ended up eating too much, and found myself feeling a bit bloated and uncomfortable.  

After a very brief rainstorm, the sun came out again, and the promo at the pub kicked back into gear.  This time, unfortunately, instead of a DJ, they had a live band playing.  

Once again, I was not in the mood.  Sure, I was not right in the middle of everything, but because of the proximity of my living room to the pub terrace, I might as well have been.  

Part of me felt a little guilty for being so irritated by something that was very likely creating joy for others, but it was just not the right day or time for me.  I wanted to sulk. 

Probably any other time, I would have been fully supportive of a group of guys getting together to play covers of what they believe to be the favorite party songs, but I just was not up for it. 

So, I shut my windows to try and keep the majority of the noise out, which just made my flat a bit more humid, due to the sporadic rain showers.  And, as good as my Doppelfenster are, I could not help but follow the music through the band's set.  They played all the "hits" that I tend to shy away from.  It was a bit unfair, because they played competently enough, but it just was irritating.  Why were all the songs in English instead of German?  Why do cover bands always have to cover Oasis, the Rolling Stones, and the Killers?

Well, the Saturday evening continued on, and I was rather glad when 22h hit and the band had to unplug.   The terrace remained open, so I could still hear people enjoying the evening, but at least without crap music. 

All of this created some pretty interesting dreams for me last night, and I woke up this morning feeling somewhat refreshed and in better spirits. 

Of course, this has not stopped me from listening to the first five albums of PIL during the course of the morning, with a repeat of the classic line from the classic song.  

"Anger is an energy."

That being said, I am psyching myself back up for a good week.  It was okay to have a couple of days where I was not so bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and bubbly with fuzzy, but I can bring that to an end. 

That is the cool thing about listening to Public Image, Ltd. here on a Sunday morning.  Especially as I start on album number 6. 

Happy?

see you out there

Bryan

A Week of Warm Bornheim Birthday Fuzzies

Despite my own tendency to keep my own birthday celebrations rather low-key, I do enjoy wishing people a hearty happy birthday on their day.  I like to keep a note of these dates in my calendar, and over the years have noticed that my list has grown significantly.  Sure, sometimes I inadvertently overlook someone's birthday, and there are plenty of people close to me whose birth date is not on my radar.  Rather than get worked up about it, I just take note when (and if) I do happen to become aware of their special day. 

This past week was a big one for birthdays.  Last Sunday, a young friend of mine celebrated her 16th birthday, which we all know is a significant milestone.  I made sure to get the greeting sent, did my own distant celebration (which consists simply of extra happy thoughts), then prepared myself for the upcoming week. 

Sunday evening as I was finishing my brief celebration in the pub, I bumped into another friend who, as it were, would be celebrating her own birthday the following morning.  As we briefly caught up on events since the last time we had seen one another, she mentioned that she was aware that my own grandmother would be celebrating a birthday in the coming days.  I was touched, since I had not expected her to keep up with the birthdays of other people in my family.  When I asked her about this, she answered rather logically that she, too, kind of grouped birthdays, and if a string of them happen to all come at once, then one tends to keep up with them.

I asked if she would have time Wednesday evening to help me wish my grandmother a hearty happy birthday, and she confirmed that she would definitely be there. 

On Monday as I arrived at the Kiosk, Mono greeted me with the statement, "What is this about gathering on Wednesday to wish your grandmother a happy birthday?"  

That was the first thing I had planned to discuss with him at the Kiosk Monday night, but he beat me to the topic.  Turns out he had run into our friend with the Monday birthday, and already gotten the scoop.  

On the way back to Frankfurt the previous Friday afternoon, I had decided that I would try to rally a group of friends to gather the upcoming Wednesday evening in order to get on a quick video call and sing a little song to my grandmother. 

Although I do regularly head to the pub for a bit of evening socializing and refreshment, I hardly ever make any real plans to do so.  Because of the neighborhood, the variety of friends and acquaintances I have, you basically have a reasonable chance to see a lot of people you know each and every time you walk onto the pub terrace.  That being said, I never really know who might be at the Kneipe.  Sometimes, I have gone to the pub in search of a quiet beer and a few moments of collecting my thoughts, only to run into 20 people I have not seen in months.  Other times, I head over to the pub looking for conversation, and spend the next 2 hours staring at the stars on my own. 

I like this randomness, but when it comes to my grandmother, I was interested in being a bit more specific; I did not want to leave anything to chance. 

That is why I was glad to have seen the folks the previous Sunday and Monday, and was able to make some loose plans for the upcoming Grandmommy Day. 

Wednesday evenings, I do meet with a group of friends that have kind of a standing Wednesday gathering, but because I had not been in town the previous week, I had not informed them of our special activity.  

During the course of Tuesday, my sister texted me to confirm the plan for the following day.  She and I had already placed an order for flowers and balloons to be delivered to my grandmother, and had also coordinated with our father to get a birthday cookie cake decorated and available for when he would be taking her to lunch on her day. 

My father plays a big role in the communication with my grandmother, particularly when it comes to video calls, on account that she no longer has a mobile or tablet. 

As much as I wanted things to be spontaneous, I was forced in to some planning, as my father indicated he would make sure that they were available promptly at 11am their time, right when he would arrive to take my grandmother to lunch. 

That made for 18h my time, which was not suitable, partially because I had a business meeting at that time, but more importantly, because I had told everyone that we would singing around 19h or 19h30, over an hour later.  

I clarified everything with my father ("Dad, I will call YOU."), then got on with my work week, including the preparation for the big business meeting I had scheduled for Wednesday. 

Soon enough, the big day arrived, and my meeting went rather well.  During the discussions I let it slip that immediately after our meeting concluded, I would be organizing a bit of birthday greeting for my grandmother, who was turning 105. 

It is funny to be on a video call with customers and colleagues when everyone's jaw drops at once. 

I found it kind of special that everyone responded so positively and enthusiastically.  I think everyone like to live vicariously when it comes to knowing someone who has a grandparent that is doing better than simply being alive and kicking at the age of 105.  To some extent, I do understand the reactions of my friends in my neighborhood, as they know me and all about my family.  But people I do not know so well?  

Like I said, people tend to like a birthday, and if it is for someone who is at an age that most of us cannot fathom, you just can't help but get a little fired up. 

Shortly before 19h, I headed across the pub, noting that the special invitees were already gathered, albeit at a table across the terrace from the friends who have their standing Wednesday evening there. 

I kept a steady eye on the clock as I finished my first beer and ordered a second from the invitee table.  It was almost showtime. 

Right as we decided to stand up and cross the terrace to put all the groups together, a street musician walked up, pulled out his guitar, and started to play. 

I finished my second beer as I waited for him to finish.  I was not interested in any background disturbances (other than the normal buzz of a pub patio and the passing street noise).  Video calls with my grandmother and father are always tricky; connection problems, audio problems, anything could happen. 

Finally, the busker was done, and I quickly got everyone gathered, explained the situation, and then called my father. 

Once the connection was established, I made sure my grandmother could hear me (and possibly see me), then made sure that everyone in the chorus knew we would be singing in English, then kicked things off. 

My father and grandmother had just finished eating lunch in a burger restaurant and were just getting settled in the car.  This worked out PERFECTLY as we all sang into my mobile.  My father has the hands free set up in his car, which meant that the 20 or so of us were heard through his car stereo system, which ultimately meant that my grandmother got a full effect. 

The whole event took, as you can imagine, a matter of seconds, just long enough to sing Happy Birthday, but it was a successful effort. 

I gave a hearty thanks to my friends, then stepped away briefly to continue talking with my grandmother another few minutes.  

As always, my grandmother was incredibly gracious and thankful, exclaiming how nice and thoughtful it was to be serenaded from Germany.  That had been my intention all along, and was glad that my friends had participated and that it was so greatly appreciated. 

My grandmother was already having a pretty big birthday week, having lunches or brunches almost daily, not to mention all the flowers, cards, and greetings.  And, she had further events planned for later in the week. 

We said our goodbyes, and I sat back down at the table, taking a big sip of beer.  I could relax a bit, since the task of the day was completed.  The rest of the evening, we kind of celebrated my grandmother as well as enjoyed the normal Wednesday conversations. 

Thursday was relatively quiet, and I was glad.  Celebrating a grandmother's birthday can be tiring, especially when a couple of schnapps are involved.

Friday afternoon, I caught up with my father on skype, and he recapped the birthday week of my grandmother.   The important thing was that she enjoyed ALL of the celebrations, and was still talking about the call from Germany, as well as the call and serenade from my sister and her family in Spain.  

The whole week, I had been having extra special thoughts about my grandmother, and continued the fuzzies that evening when I ventured to the pub for a few beers, bumping into a couple of friends who had helped sing two evenings before. 

True, my grandmother's birthday was the highlight of the week, but here on Sunday morning, I have two more friends having birthdays, and one more tomorrow.  

I just glanced at my calendar, and there are a handful of birthdays still to come during September, but the flurry of the week is just finishing.  

It is already time to start thinking about what to do for my grandmother's next birthday, but until then, there are plenty of others out there that will be congratulated in the upcoming weeks and months. 

See you out there

Bryan