I’m weary of the post post-modernism, that lonely slogan. I’m weary of the artefacts that prop themselves up on nothing; the comedian literary artist who pretends nothing something absurd point meaningless yet HAHA (y); the idea it’s not there to be spoken about in concrete categorical terms.
It all gets stupid and beside the point.
And the point is that there’s still a point to be made. A real modern point to be made – that point is the point of conversation between you and other people perhaps: the ‘Let’s do something in the summer’ point, the ‘Have you watched the most recent episode of ___?’ point, the ‘Who are you going to vote for?’ point, the ‘I’m fairly stressed about ____’ point, the ‘I want to change the world’ point. All these points, still, like definite impressions of constellations of anything you see, in the sky, on your skin, on other people’s skin, in the sea, in photographs, in memories, and music. Rhythm!
Maybe it’s the case that all these points, these little locations of meaning, they’re not enough being made in the busy domains of professionalism that pervade the planet like tube trains, skyscrapers, posters, pavements, slogans, initiatives and – ah! – all this gets written and goes away when I’m listening to a song that seems all friendly and aware and, like a smile of eyes, even if it were hypothetically conceived with buzzwords from a manager’s mouth (e.g. catchy, upbeat, fun, summery), one feels that the band, like me, are generally having a great fulfilling time with the experience of the song they made, played, recorded, and played again on the Hype Machine right now, whereupon it all harmlessly clicked moments ago. Maybe there were buzzwords at some pre-moment, but the moment itself made itself a moment to be enjoyed, felt, interaction, lived within.
This song by The Ugly Club is lively and a radiator invigorator for the collectively cool and half-full space. The quite perfectly tuned combination of a bright tipsy keyboard fantasising through fingers fizzing up and down like fields caught in the wind, like kids voicing in a park, caught in the wind, like the half-smiles of a bass-guitar player, playing at the side of a stage, caught in the wind. The bit lip of a smack of a snare, answering him, me, us, her, them, everyone, everyone – are you ready?
The kind of song that you don’t get around to listening to the words properly because all your thinking power is being used up by your feet, keeping time tapping away the half-empty spaces, but perhaps you (as in you) do (listen to the words), people listen differently. I don’t, but I know that when the vocals and voice of that other person sounds really good, and the music too, spritely and slow and swinging from the trees, caught in the wind, then usually the lyrics are pleasing the lyric-listeners just as well.
There’s not too much more to be said about such a kind of song as this song kindly reminds me of when I want to think of something to say, meaningful of course: enjoy it and download it good, by The Ugly Club: “The Lonely“.