Year In Review - A preface of sorts

Last week the mighty Space Siren disbanded within the most unfortunate and tragic of circumstances. Suffice to say, when the announcement came that Corno Zwetsloot could no longer perform due to his terminal cancer, I kind of deliberately allowed it to wash over me. Not because I'd already foreseen it, I have… Yet at that particular moment, I found myself in a state of unabashed glee discovering this tune.

At the same time, I was left feeling somewhat ambivalent. Judging by my twitter-feed, it seemed pretty lacking in compassion, to be raving about a new song at the heels of one of my favorite Dutch bands just calling it quits. Expressing oneself by means of a single Facebook-status-update or 140 character bulletin at a time, modern life appears to have become more ephemeral than ever. Maybe I could've compensated by following it up with some existential turn of phrase… Or some kind of self-righteous, socially conscious commentary.

Awful isn't it, that this could even cross one's mind! Scary too... it actually happens quite frequently, to be honest. To everyone. I reckon if I followed through, it would make me an awful, AWFUL human being, you know, to forcefully contrive such a thing, instead of letting my musings come naturally once the sentiment hits home.

It would simply be about helping my online profile save face instead of uttering what's truly on my mind. This is something I have often contemplated when 300 people tragically died in that Malaysian Airlines-crash. It's kind of unsettling, really, that communication has come down to trying to pin down the perfect you, instead of the real you…regardless of the circumstances. In the wake of tragedy, we're actually all the more prone to it. To get out of our way to NOT seem like a cold callous individual.

It's basically the same outcry Portland-based musician EMA conveys in her song "3Jane", how far these digital effigies have disengaged from our true physical selves. It must be so harrowing to suddenly come to realize that…this song aptly expresses that notion. We're all guilty to some extent. So in a way, I sorta frown upon all the backlash and ridicule Russell Brand is getting at the moment, for stepping on his soapbox and refusing to edit himself. Ok, so perhaps his fiery preachings on starting this new revolution might sound a bit pompous and haughty… But at least he's got the cojones to just say what's on his mind… On the fucking spot! I can surely - at the very least - respect that…Even if it's just for the sake of sparking fruitful dialogue (or senseless bickering in comments sections).

In all honesty, all of us are absolutely clueless. I myself, for one, am an absolutely, clueless, flawed human being. Therefor I have no problem admitting my lack of talent or expertise as a freelance music writer, for that matter. For all of my work to turn out even half-decent in my view, it takes up max effort, a keen attention span and an unrealistic disparagement of oneself. Comin' to terms with the stuff I cook up on a daily basis is basically symptomatic of me reaching way too far up my own ass.

At the end of the day, when all the work on my plate is done, I revel in escapism as much as the next person. As we speak, I'm basically exhausted and brain-numb, in dire need to just NOT think. Yet here I am...still trying to muster something, erm...remotely coherent. My nights are usually either spent getting my behind handed to me with Street Fighter, finishing a book (just recently I discovered the joy of reading, I might add), watching Netflix or the nasty habit of singing this swell ditty really fucking loud (and prolly driving my neighbor bonkers doing so). As a result, a lot of weighty stuff that occupies my mind gets lost in the shuffle.

So let's see what happens when instead, I just let 'er rip, hrmm...? Instead of wallowing in unyielding quandary, I've decided to go ahead and do an elaborate Year-In-Review - one entry per evening…or maybe two if the spirit moves me. All in all, it's been an incredible ten months thus far, with a lot of stuff left unsaid still lingering inside the ol' cranium. It may well end up a messy, often self-contradictory set of maunderings. So shoot, let's talk music…the one subject I can at least pretend to know what the heck I'm blathering about!

Next up: 50. Big Ups & The Boon of confined spaces