| BPP |
[May. 16th, 2014|11:15 pm] |
As they are friends I sometimes go to BPP concerts - and often find myself promising myself it'll be the last time, too (the leaden beats, the repetitive predictable song structures, the off-key singing that can grate even my tolerant ears). But I go occasionally because you never know when they will catch IT. Or when IT will catch them - because they can't control it. What is it? something wild, passionate: incongruous in those middle-aged bones - something deeper than sentiment - something that more than once has had me in tears in public.
Which is why you can't have musicians coming anywhere near it: musicians who hit the correct key, musicians who have regulated their sound, musicians who want to control IT. They can't kill IT, sure: though they try, but IT leaves them well alone. They have the form, but nothing else: you might as well have them miming - and, sure, have some zeitgeist approved dreadlock frontstage.
BPP songs should be left to Maris. BPP songs should be played in basement bars on shitty equipment, and a little out of tune. That's when the spirIT comes and blesses proceedings.
Yesterday, I contend, was close to a collective assault on something these musos can't understand. |
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