Holy Shit, He's a White Dude! (And Other Musical Musings)

Coldplay is webcasting for free right now. Pretty cool. (Probably over by the time I finish this post).Thanx AMEX, guess this makes that yearly membership fee worth it. I know the points program sure as hell doesn't.

http://www.youtube.com/coldplayvevo?om_rid=NsmmUf&om_mid=_BOqEXyB8eGP0qS&om_lid=gen103

So, the Interwebz is both magical and a bit of a killjoy. You can find information about practically anything, no matter how obscure. While this is immensely gratifying, there are losses. People with minds for trivia (*cough*me*cough*) are being rendered obsolete. Especially with the advent of 3G/4G data streaming. Fucking iPhone has made me useless. And though I do have my hunches proved right in a more timely manner, I now make less money by betting against inebriated bar patrons.

The other loss is the joy in a certain type of reminiscing. The kind where you say, "Hey, anybody remember that song/movie/book that went 'Something, something, power windows, something, blah blah?'" and your friends go, "No, but I do remember 'Blah Blah babycakes whoopsie blah,' was it by that guy's brother?"

And from such modest and befuddled beginnings, hours of conversation and information exchange sprang forth.

Now everybody just whips out their phone/pocket super computer and we are forced to endure YouTube clips like we used to have to brave a wallet full of family photos. The video clips are only mildly less aggravating that the picture of your 22 month old covered in pudding. At least thumbing through the wallet pix was shorter.

Now that I'm done with my Luddite grumping, here's the part where I glory in all the Web does afford. Yesterday I went online to look for work. I didn't quite make it, as I got distracted by updating a playlist. I awoke with a lyric in my head, to the tune of  "Down in Jamaica they got lots of pretty women/ Steal your money and they break your heart." As the morning progressed, that song was interspersed with "That's how much/ That's how much/ I live for your loving/ That's how much."

Well, looking up those songs just started an avalanche. I started searching for all the songs I used to hear on the radio during that time in my life. Surprisingly to me, but I'm sure no one else, a huge portion of my music was Yacht Rock. I've also realized that Crosby, Stills, Nash (and sometimes Young) have had an unhealthy influence on my life. Ditto for America and Ambrosia. What the hell?

(This Coldplay concert is pretty damn good. I just squeed b/c Politik came on. YEAH!!!!! Oh crap, now it's Viva la Vida. This crowd is amazing.)

Anyhoo, I really was going to job hunt. But my computer froze and got all funky on me when I started doing serious stuff. Sign from god or happenstance? You make the call. I'm back on today, and as you can see, music has sidetracked me yet again. After the National Geographic Channel gave me a double whammy this morning with The Devil's Bible and the The Unreadable Book. Damn, I am such a sucker for that stuff.

But I have set aside Nat Geo and vow to get some shit done today. But first. . . . . . . (you see the problem here, right?)

I FINALLY remembered to look up a song that has been haunting me for years. Not just for the song itself, but I swear the horn melody has been sampled in many songs. Well, this is what I found:

Check his ass out! What the crap? This is right up there with finding out Rick Astley was a cracker, back in '88. Anyhoodle, that song is wicked smooth and has some soul behind it.

Ah, Coldplay is encoring with "Clocks."

I suppose some people would view this entire post as a condemnation of my musical taste. Hmmm.

Oh well, it makes me happy. Now they are playing "Fix You." It's weird, but I have this theory that you can spot when a songwriter has had children. This is one of two Coldplay songs that signal that to me.