Back on the hard stuff
I used to do this a lot, back in the old blog. Just chuck in YT videos where I felt like it, partly so I could find them easily, and partly because I felt that anyone who hadn't heard them was missing something.
These two have in common the fact that I would happily put them in a space probe, set to autoplay upon receipt, as a calling card from Homo sapiens to any aliens that might be out there. Of course the aliens wouldn't get them initially, not having their ears tuned to the same frequencies and all that, but that's why you have video, see, so you can see the faces of people who are getting the music and hopefully figure out that there is something important to get there. Both these pieces do quite efficiently what music is supposed to do (among other things): enlist the support of certain internal sense receptors in your thorax towards the project of flooding your consciousness with emotion, hopefully lifting and shifting some of the entrenched stuff, the worries and stress, and knocking your limiting sense of dreary penal solitude off balance by signing you up for a brief harmless experience of the collective, which may or may not mutate into an intense yearning desire to dance with someone, or to be held, or some such thing.
Since I posted this back in the old Spanish blog, this particular jury is still out on whether the lyrics of the first song should or should not be interpreted as an ode to oral sex. I am not sure whether it even matters. The middle 8 is gorgeous, the parallel fourths the pianist starts messing with towards the end are wicked, and you can see where Bacharach got some of his drive from (via Warwick, and the whole tradition), albeit in his case the Dionysian is throttled back a bit to let the Apollonian through.
Enjoin.
These two have in common the fact that I would happily put them in a space probe, set to autoplay upon receipt, as a calling card from Homo sapiens to any aliens that might be out there. Of course the aliens wouldn't get them initially, not having their ears tuned to the same frequencies and all that, but that's why you have video, see, so you can see the faces of people who are getting the music and hopefully figure out that there is something important to get there. Both these pieces do quite efficiently what music is supposed to do (among other things): enlist the support of certain internal sense receptors in your thorax towards the project of flooding your consciousness with emotion, hopefully lifting and shifting some of the entrenched stuff, the worries and stress, and knocking your limiting sense of dreary penal solitude off balance by signing you up for a brief harmless experience of the collective, which may or may not mutate into an intense yearning desire to dance with someone, or to be held, or some such thing.
Since I posted this back in the old Spanish blog, this particular jury is still out on whether the lyrics of the first song should or should not be interpreted as an ode to oral sex. I am not sure whether it even matters. The middle 8 is gorgeous, the parallel fourths the pianist starts messing with towards the end are wicked, and you can see where Bacharach got some of his drive from (via Warwick, and the whole tradition), albeit in his case the Dionysian is throttled back a bit to let the Apollonian through.
Enjoin.
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