Monday, October 31, 2022

Portrait Of The Artist As A Superannuated Wideboy

 


The thing is, I’m the same as I ever was, except I’m not. When back in my home town last March to remember a friend who had taken his own life, I was confronted by someone in the pub who I used to hang out with a lot, up until the end of the eighties. I hadn’t seen him since I started university in 1989, but had been in regular contact on social media. Anyway, I’d actually bumped into him the day before, coming out of a supermarket. You know how you hear a voice and all of a sudden its like the previous thirty years hadn’t happened? My back was turned but as soon as I heard my name I knew who it was and felt transported back decades. In any case, in spite of us not having set eyes on each other for that amount of time, he was going somewhere with some others, and so was I, so we said we’d see each other the following day. Anyway, when that day arrived we chatted in the pub, and he looked at me saying “we haven’t really changed at all, have we?” And I’m afraid I was maybe a bit blunt with him. I knew what he meant. Here we (all) were, in the pub together for the same reason and, outwardly at least, things were pretty much the same as they’d always been. And while I could agree with that up to a point, (attitude-wise), on most other points he was wide of the mark. I think his judgement may have been clouded by the possibility that he was still in a state of coming to terms with a situation that he hadn’t planned for, but which had nevertheless happened and he had to deal with it. One of his ways of dealing with it could have been to seek refuge in nostalgia. I don’t see anything wrong with this approach, as long as it’s not the only one available. It always comes down to “whatever works for you”. And, unless I’m ever in a similar situation, I can’t say for sure what perspective I’d adopt. Having said that, I’m very much a person who lives in the present. I enjoy reminiscing. However, I try not to stay attached to the past for too long. The future has even less appeal. I mean I’m really looking forward to getting a dog in a few weeks, and I’ve always enjoyed Christmas. Generally though the future feels full of dread these days. I’m a natural optimist, and remember the halcyon days of the late 20th century. The focus on the year 2000 was immense from childhood. It was like some far off golden age of heightened technology and convenience. Everybody was going to work less and have flying cars, (flying cars will never be a thing). I knew how old I would be, (but still didn’t have any concrete career plans, rather like now), and imagined an ideal life for myself. And when comparisons are made with the global and political situations of the seventies and eighties, in spite of how bad it may have felt, it’s nothing compared to now. Being young helped of course. You are insulated against problems by virtue of having no responsibilities. Music was on an incredible upward curve, peaking with house and raving at the end of the eighties, beginning of the nineties. Has that time ever been bettered? Well, I don’t want to turn into a curmudgeonly old nostalgist, particularly after having earlier said that that’s what I’m not. So I’m going to sit on the fence and say that we’re in a constant state of flux and that while a peak of sorts was reached then, what has happened since is a perpetual, fluctuating line of development, that moves from side to side but not always forwards. For me at least, not being proficient in any sort of musical instrument, but being a self-appointed player of other people’s music and discerning selector, I’m always passionate and excited about what the future might bring, but find more than enough to occupy me in the present. The irony is that the forward-thinking world of electronic music would be lost without its past, and the ability to constantly pilfer and reshape it. I’ve got into a routine recently. A simple one, but something that constantly makes me evaluate my place in the world through the quantifying lens of underground electronic music. I get up in the morning, perform various household duties in the midst of those going out to work or school and, once the house is empty, shower, get dressed, and set off with one overriding objective; to buy a pain au chocolate from the local Lidl. Of course I may buy other things as well, but the pastry is the main focus. The ‘Lidl Loop’ is a round trip of around 35 minutes, stretches the legs and also gives me the opportunity to listen to a mix. I’m currently almost all the way through Jaye Ward’s spellbinding ‘Dimensions’ mix. Something that is uplifting and frightening in almost equal measure. It’s a dense soundscape of slowed down, pent-up acidic rage, with more technoid texture than a mid seventies feather cut; a veritable sonic rainforest of internal emotional combustion. And I’m walking around the supermarket looking at my fellow customers,- a lot of whom are of a similar age to myself, - wondering what they are listening to when they go back home. What structures their lives in a similar way to the way sound and imagination structures mine. And as is always the case, I’m looking into the eyes of men who look old enough to be my granddad, but whom I’m probably older than, and I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or ask if this incredible trip going through my ears can be broadcast through the shop PA. And what’s so, on the one hand frustrating, but on the other thankfully sets me apart. That, hopefully doesn’t come across in any way elitist. It’s just that I regard this music accompanying way of life as the most important thing. And the lifestyle is a very personal one. So, while I stopped regular clubbing a while back, (but am slowly reviving it), it’s all about complementary interests and pastimes and weaving them into the daily grind. Anything is fair game: sport, politics, pets, the arts, food, family etc. As long as it’s clear that these are the most important things in life and that you’ve found a way of prioritising them, nothing else really matters.

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