Bluesy Monday


 

No birds singing in the sky.

My coffee’s cold.

My breakfast cried.

This is the beginning of the Blues on a Monday night

Obviously, I was not meant to write the Blues, but I do enjoy it. Although, I have to be in the mood for it. I can’t actually have the blues to listen to the Blues. Otherwise, I’d just throw the record player out the window.

But, the magic of music has always enticed me since I was a little baby.  My daddy was a Big Band fan. He wasn’t into this rock music that was so popular, and said he wanted me to learn what good music was before I listened to anything else.

 So, I grew up on the likes of Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, and Larry Clinton. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I finally caught up to modern music. Meanwhile, my daddy was listening to rock music anytime I wasn’t around. He said it was to keep him awake on long trips, but during the day? At work? Yes, one of his co-workers outed him after his funeral. All about how he loved listening to Dave Pratt’s Morning Show.  The very one that he would say, “Why would anyone listen to THAT KPUD station?”

 In the end, I still love the Swing music and the Crooners. I can rock out like no one’s business. I can get down to some honky tonk music and not look for rattlesnakes or worry about desert sand getting into my shorts. In fact, the only ‘music’ I cannot stand is rap.

 Rap music. Mr. Greene once compared this poetic beat sound to giving a certain kind of sexual act to a microphone. The remembrance of that statement does not make it any more appealing. But, it does make me want to laugh at the ‘oh-so-manly’ wanna-be rappers who take to wearing some overweight friend’s pants, when they must have messed up their own somehow. Why else would the back end nearly touch the ground?

 But, back to real music. Once I thought of getting a government grant to study the effects music has on people. I know certain music can bring my mood from average to angry within moments. If that’s the case, would pumping in happy, peaceful music, like Enya, into jailhouses throughout the the country make criminals more likely to rehabilitate or would it cause a riot? If it did alter their moods and make them want to put flowers in their hair and dance, would we be able to release them, so long as we implanted 24 hours of Enya music into their brains?

 Maybe I really haven’t thought this all the way through. Which is why I never applied for a government grant for a study on music — or mind control.

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Published in: on May 16, 2011 at 5:16 pm  Leave a Comment  
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