Lately, I’ve noticed a genre of music I enjoy—but cannot place what it is called. The tracks don’t seem to exist under a unified style, but all have one thing in common: they are about hustling.
And by hustling, I mean working a lot for money. Songs that seem tailored to the ideals of the entrepreneur. Continue reading
The difference between listening to a video and listening to music is staggering. Perhaps not great for my health, but my media intake is pretty steady, and I do a lot of it while I am mid other tasks. It’s the only way I could keep up with all the media that I like and that I need to see as a professional critic (among many other internet jobs I have) but, recently, I have been getting into some intensely mentally active activities. Continue reading
I write, work, and run to the tune of music. It’s one of the few things that keeps my mind sharp. It helps spurn me forward. But, I can’t just listen to any song, I’m quite picky.
Thus, The Playlist. A list of songs that’s been curated over literal years, and basically the only thing I listen to anymore. A song may be so lucky as to be added to it every month or so.
And boy is it eclectic. Continue reading
I am a writer, so, obviously, that’s the art form that I like the most, and the one I focus the most on, and know the most about, but, inspired by a random thought and subsequent conversation, let’s talk about something obvious.
Let’s talk about how ridiculous—in a good way—music is. Every culture, on the planet, as far as I know, figured out music. Everyone in the modern world recognizes it. Doesn’t matter what language it’s being sung in, or the volume, or the tone, music is universal. Continue reading
On the stage, decked in small ribbons and garish clothing, stood two men, and they both strummed their guitars with passion and grace. One of them was short and fat, the other tall and thin. A generic pair, to be sure, but one that had played for a very long time, in a lot of places.
The day’s patrons did not seem to like the show, however, as they paid little mind to them, walking along, talking amongst themselves—even as a true master, two in fact, went to work.
Well, most did not like it. Though it would never see publication or media attention, the Royal Child was in enraptured attendance. He was toward the back, pretending to be interested in the fruits his handler would offer to him, but only eating them out of habit. Continue reading
On the beat and the beer, they danced. Women and men, high on their own hormones and the feeling of youth, kept bouncing and singing.
The D.J. spun a new beat and then pulled the microphone toward him.
“Everyone put their hands up!” Continue reading