A couple of weeks ago I was a part of a film and music event. I wound up watching 60+ local music videos in an attempt to pick out the best ones to show to the public. A lot of them were really great, but we're not here to celebrate the achievements of others, at least not today. We're here to discuss the misfits who didn't make the cut. Those who made the time pass like molasses trough an hour glass wearing a tight belt. First of all, I've been living my life wrong this whole time. I listen to David Bowie, Tom Waits and the Beatles all day and then try to make my own music afterwards. Naturally, thus far I have viewed myself as a complete and utter failure. There's nothing like getting the master of your record, feeling that mayfly brief moment of achievement and then comparing it to the Radiohead album you drew inspiration from. This moment is joined with an irreconcilable sadness that sounds like the Price is Right losing trombone.
Well, listening to some locals failing tragically made me feel like Led Fucking Zeppelin, although the balloon of my ego was helium filled and floating high. The bad videos were heroically bad and heroes they were, saving me from the depression haunts beneath the shadow that Bob Dylan casts. Listen to Background Rob in the foreground and you'll know what sonic pride feels like. If you're as impatient as I am, skip to the 25 second mark when the magic happens.
As a career cynic, some of these videos nearly gave me an orgasm. But as a not complete idiot, I have to remember to be careful. It's safest to talk shit about young feather weight kids who look Orville Redenbacher's jaunt through puberty. I generally avoid making fun of dudes who look like their trucks have ballsacs. The following guys look like they might murder me to death or take me to a Slipknot concert (probably the same result), but I'm just going to pray they never become privy to this blog, or if they do, they remember that all press is good press and this blog was ghostwritten by Matthew.
And though their video is about the ills of domestic domestic violence, the music is so terrible it actually made me question my views on the subject. Anyway. It's good to feel good bout yourself. And tonight when I go to sleep, I'll even be able to negotiate the times when I had a mustache and was in a rap rock jamband.