THE BEST BAND IN THE WORLD
This ones for you:
The lighting was crap and the song started slow, a geisha walking gracefully through the aftermath of war. Aptly the drums began to march. Aptly, there were four men on stage playing...with their instruments.
I sat concentrating and immediately I felt something. Something shyly started to surface for a look-see. Eyes fixed on them, one at a time, it just didn't fit. Attitude and dissinterest feigned across their faces. And yet when I closed my eyes it was perfect, when I overted my gaze it was flawless.
In that capsule of time from memory, I glimpsed the succint. That marching drum and that floating intricate guitar played blank canvass to the painting of my thoughts. I swelled fat with feeling, yearned to bust out of myself, longed for it to manifest on the universe. Print itself in some action on this space and time. It didn't, of course it didn't and it never does. When the song is over the ambience that came with it dies.
That slutty red light swept briefly over their faces. The idea of a woman and all she's worth teased across their minds. That was the bottom line. It transcended in that moment and the dissapointment I felt was phenomenal. Betrayed by the world of man once again and why is it I never learn?
They play beautifully, they play like gods...but what about when I'm tired of playing? What about when your tired of the game? Tough shit for you. Tough shit for you in every way because you choose not to play and you soon slip into the background. You decide not to partake in the role your gender dictates and you give up all your power, you become something you never wanted to be. You become wallpaper, unnoticed, just something that hangs drably in the background.
What fucking choice have you got? Choice looses charm when both options are dire, choice looses its hopeful qualities when both options suck as much as each other. So you give in, play the game just for a little attention, a size three foot in that door. Once you're there (you tell yourself) then you can make a difference, once you are there you can make them see.So it's decided, you look over your glasses playfully, you purse your lips carefully and its moderately amusing how your wisdom is completely and utterly wasted on them.
You put yourself out there for them, help them create some of that fire that they want and naturally you end up getting burnt. The fact is that you are never really a part of their team and god help you if you are cooler than any of them because then you have gone too far, then you become a real threat. Its just at that point that they use that one word, that one fucking word that shoots you down. They club together and put it out there suggestively, they don't even have to directly say what they mean, they just have to imply it generally and you realise that they cant see you any other way. To them, all women are just fuck-holes, all women are slags and bitches and nags...to them women satisfy one solitary role and that is to assure them that they too can be cool.
They are undoubtedly the best band in the world, they far exceed any of the other new bands out there...but the point is that the soul that translates itself in any kind of art can be beautiful, can be immortalized, can be the most moving thing that we have ever encountered. The point is that the soul that manifests in any kind of art always preceeds the mortal that created it, far surpasses the boundaries of the artists personality and so very seldom can ever be found in any aspect of the singer, the artist, the writer, the photographer, the pianist, the sculptor or the fool that once sweated blood for it.
They are undoubtedly the best band in the world...but as a woman...as someone who longs for insight...yearns to be surprised just once...prays for a little slice of depth in this shallow ephemeral world...I am left dissapointed.