Here's what we'll do, see - we'll take a sample from this great record, the part where the horns and strings are just absolutely screaming, the part at the very top of the crescendo, where the tension in the music is screwed up to its most intense and the listener is ready for the musical release. And we will throw everything else out, including the release, and we'll create a whole song using just the crescendo, repeated over and over. It'll be great!
Well, not so much. I ran into this remarkable recording while cruising YouTube for Dusty Springfield performances last night. The sample referred to is from the intro to You Don't Have To Say You Love Me
This isn't bad like, say the Shaggs record is bad. You can play Philosophy Of The World and delight in the brashness and naivete, the invention displayed by a group of young girls flying through territory that they have never seen before simply because their outlook and experience is so limited. But the joy of discovery is there.
But this record is different. There's no joy of discovery here. There are no good ideas here. There is no musicality here - this is the musical equivalent of being about to fall over the edge of the cliff, stuck there forever, flailing your arms about in an effort to get back to solid land, until finally you wish you could just go on over - only you can't do that, either.
And how many times are these guys going to repeat these stale cliches? I've been hearing these sentiments for over 30 years and they don't make any more sense than when I first heard them. I love music by guys who are in the gutter, looking up at the stars. I have no use for music by guys who are in the gutter because they like it there.
