next door's eldest (who has terrible musical taste at the best of times) just played us her favourite tune of the moment. the song itself was comprised of some chickenhead making falsetto woop noises over an incessant ticking heartbeat, while a single unadulterated sample from bluenote formed the meat of the track.
it was by drizzle some jizzle on ma chizzle from ya pizzle or something like that. she had a picture of him on the back of the CD - he looked like a regular pasty little nerd, but he was covered in gaudy costume jewellery and wearing baggy, dayglo rubber pyjamas. he had a sloppy buzz cut and his hands were all twisted up like he had lou gehrig's disease.
i've got a fucking blinding hangover this morning, so maybe it wasn't the best time to hear it - but it just wasn't music, it was an awkward noise. all those little rules about what makes a tune that you hear musicians mention were being broken. it was about as accessible and intuitive as somebody else's kitchen.
have always been able to sympathise if not empathise with older folks who resent people not being able to read sheet music or play an instrument - but never having even picked up the basics that you're supposed to learn from your mates while you're mucking around with a synthesiser or a sequencing app, that's a new low
now that i've written that and the memory of the last 15 minutes is clearing up, i wish i hadn't said it - but her dad and brother laughed so i guess it's not all bad.
