KILLING ME…. NOT TOO SOFTLY

The complete memory of the first time I heard ‘Killing me softly’ by Roberta Flack eludes me. All I recall is that it was a rainy afternoon a couple of years ago, and the curtains to my room were drawn, giving it that amber glow that soothed both the body and the mind. And then there was the music…… the soulful melody, Lori Lieberman’s haunting lyrics, the power of Roberta’s voice. This day holds special significance for me, because it sealed my love affair with the ballad. I absolutely had to know the story behind the song, and it did not disappoint!!

Some say that I have a strange taste in music; I, on the other hand, say the same to them. For me, a song must always have a meaning; it must reach out to its audience by more than just a peppy tune. It must always have a storyline to it. Or rather, the listener, in this case, yours truly, must be able to imagine a satisfactory scenario in whose embrace the song fits….. Perfection. It must speak of the artist’s emotions and desires, perhaps like ‘Lady in red’ by Chris DeBurgh; or ‘The power of love’ by Jennifer Rush. There are many, many more. The preceding examples are not even the foremost among he class I wish to discuss, they just happen to be the first songs which came to my head.

A song must always have a storyline to it. Or rather, the listener, in this case, yours truly, must be able to imagine a satisfactory scenario in whose embrace the song fits….. Perfection.

What strikes me most is that most of the songs which are not merely hollow shells come from a bygone era. There are but a handful of great ballads originating from the time period after the late eighties. I place most of the blame for this situation on the advent and abuse of electric music. Take, for instance, the electric guitar. It has the potential to sound great, this I concede. One only has to listen to ‘Goodbye to love’ by the Carpenters or ‘November Rain’ by the Guns and Roses to know of what I speak. But I also must remark that most of its exponents make it sound like a cross between a banshee and extremely long, keratinized fingernails scratching on a blackboard.

One memory comes back to me vividly. It was during the so-called ‘Rock Show’ in Saarang 2007. I, against my better senses, decided to attend. My only memory of the performance is a bunch of extremely hairy guys prancing around on stage, sometimes not even using their feet for locomotion, all the while making extremely loud, incoherent, and to me, incomprehensible noises. Deciding to give this ‘art form’ another chance and blaming my confusion on a relative lack of exposure to….well…this, I turned to a friend of mine, who, for as long as I can remember, enjoyed this kind of ‘music’ and asked him what were the ‘artists’ ‘singing’ about. His reply, paraphrased, ran thus; “who knows, and who the hell cares??” In retrospect, I would give anything to be able to see my own face at that instant of time. To say I was shocked would be like calling the universe ‘quite large’, namely, an understatement.

Since when had music become more about the unfathomable art of head-banging and less about the lyrics of the song and how it reflected the emotion of the artist? Don’t mistake me though; modern music has come up with some truly great songs. Take for example the music of the Corrs. It has a touch to it which while being aesthetically very appealing, also speaks volumes about the depths of the song. Three very attractive women, great music and wonderful lyrics, what more could a guy ask for?? ;). It’s just that it’s becoming more and more of a rarity to hear a song which you know is going to last for eternity.

I have yet another bone to pick with rap. Again, I don’t see anything in it except a mindless rhyming of arbit phrases with one bearing no connection to the next. Apparently, good rap seems to be one filled with more obscenities than prepositions. Why this is so popular, I shall never comprehend.

It seems to be that we live in a culture today, where to admit that you prefer songs which actually mean something, rather than a mish-mash of sounds which, by the way, give you a high only by knocking your senses out of whack, is to be labeled a wimp. As the character portrayed by Hugh Grant in the movie ‘About a Boy’ aptly puts it, it is nothing short of social suicide. Again, why this is so, I do not know.

What happened to the Abba’s, the Carpenter’s, the Beatles, the Bob Dylan’s, the Queen’s of music? To see the state of music today pains me. In my humble opinion, the concept of a song which tells a story is dying, is dying a slow, painful death; and the process is killing a part of me too, and not too gently at that!!

My dear perceptive reader, while begging your forgiveness for this inordinately long post as also for the fumbling nature of it, for I fear I as yet haven’t been able to convey my true feelings on this subject, I also hope you possess also a perceptive ear, and will do me the honour of sharing your opinions on this topic, which is so close to my heart, with me. Farewell, until the next time we meet!!!