Beat Your Tambourines
By: Song River
The arts certainly are a reflection of our thoughts and dreams. Metaphorically speaking, art is the artist nailed to a cross and left out in the open for all to view. At times music really strips bare all the pretenses we have hidden behind and reveals them in a stark naked tell all way. This vast array of truth can be stinging at times in an overabundance of diversity. Our interpretations of art are so varied as it can be presented in a convoluted fashion, or as a message relayed, garbled and only understandable by those involved, or it could be open for interpretation by the listener to take in several directions. At times it is so in your face and makes you laugh or feel uncomfortable but really for all intents and purposes speaking for music's sake as a whole her credentials can be summed up in emotive. Music will make you feel something... after all even dead is a feeling.
A quasar of interesting music is currently firing at a rapid rate as the Pandora’s box has been permanently notched open and as the society of our times are taking on a 21st Century shape and form the melodic measures and stanzas are busily sorting out groups and individuals. We are all getting this chance to bloom. It is an exciting period of time for music in truth. We are free to be as individual or as collective as we seek to be.
There was quite an expanse of time where music had become rather boring and mundane. It felt a bit like a repetitive morning where you grab the same uncleaned brown plastic cereal bowl, scrape off the former bits of food matter, mundanely open the crisp wrapper from a box of generic brand corn flakes, dump them into your brown bowl and pour on whitish blue watery powdered milk substance over the beige flakes... splash? Sound tempting? No. More like lifeless, tasteless, blah. A never-ending 'Ground Hogs Day...'
Here and now though set in this current ever-changing passages of time we have global unrest. Nothing new except for the fact of how we approach what is taking place, along with our instant coffee, instant food, and instant knowledge. The insanity of it all is almost a deluge that has taken the awe and created a latent period of apathetic numbness. The afflictions of humankind have begun stirring the souls of the majority. We are beginning to witness societies need to commit to something that is at the edifice of courage- we are almost there, we just haven't quite figured out what we are ready to be committed to yet. But the masses more often than not, historically speaking, have been moved by the music of their time. This is what we are witnessing. After all, it is really only the artists who seem to 'see' deeper and into the shadows as they pulsate this dire need to extricate themselves from whatever moment they are in as they shake off the dust from their tambourines and begin clearing out their minds, hearts, and souls to write.
The state of being is shanking on the heel of unrest, or is it restlessness? Not so much restlessness as more of a concern and worry which brings on unrest. These are tumultuous times, no nothing new, but in a way they are different. We have never been so driven by instantaneous information. Many times the person being beaten on the street may not even realize they are being beaten until someone video tapes them and posts it on Twitter. It is almost absurd that we have become this driven to set aside the humanity for the bastardizing of our own compassion. And our music at times reflects this. Whether it is by our own admittance, or by rejection, or by embracing the surroundings, it is music that keeps the pulse in check with the turning of this blue marble on an axis thrust through her soul. She is a complicated, salacious, dissonant princess who mutters to herself. It is only through music that this self-expression can heal itself to enlighten the knockers and hail the spin.
Nevertheless, music is based upon how we perceive our current state of affairs. Undeniably to our mortal soul's music at times is the leader, the savior, and sometimes the follower. At times this mysterious harmonious rattling of sound is our own reflection. Quondam efforts consort at other times to form rejection of status or societal issues, sometimes it is the catalyst for modifications and sometimes... she is nothing more than a hot red-haired girl spread eagle on the hood of a hot midnight blue GTO... "My hand's wet on the wheel/There's a voice in my head/That drives my heel..."- Golden Earring.
What it all comes down to is this, music is one hella “long cool woman in a black dress...” The Hollies