I've been listening to music from the Big Band Era. I love that music. I grew up with that music.
What passes for music today is not. Music is not someone banging away on a guitar. Music is not someone screaming at the top of his lungs mostly unintelligible words. Performing music is not gyrating around on the stage while screaming unintelligible words pretending to be lyrics.
In my Big Band Era, the band sat in chairs, there was a clear director of the band-orchestra, and everyone played their instruments while sitting on chairs. The soloist stood up, in place, and played his instrument without musical histrionics. Then he sat down.
When the singers took their turn, they sang. Expressively, in tune, harmoniously, without screaming into a microphone. A single soloist did the same. They bowed graciously to the applauding audience, then left the stage without fanfare.
Even when the music was jumpin', it was smooth. So smooth. And you know what else? When couples were dancing, they actually danced together. You know--he held her right hand in his left hand, his right hand lightly resting at her waist, and her left hand resting lightly on his right shoulder.
OK, so jitterbugging was something else. But at least one knew who was jitterbugging with whom. And the music to which they were jitterbugging was also played by musicians who sat in chairs and played their instruments without flinging them around like monkeys high on adrenaline.
Rant done. And I'm listening to some real, smooth, danceable, singable, swing music!
Bless
What passes for music today is not. Music is not someone banging away on a guitar. Music is not someone screaming at the top of his lungs mostly unintelligible words. Performing music is not gyrating around on the stage while screaming unintelligible words pretending to be lyrics.
In my Big Band Era, the band sat in chairs, there was a clear director of the band-orchestra, and everyone played their instruments while sitting on chairs. The soloist stood up, in place, and played his instrument without musical histrionics. Then he sat down.
When the singers took their turn, they sang. Expressively, in tune, harmoniously, without screaming into a microphone. A single soloist did the same. They bowed graciously to the applauding audience, then left the stage without fanfare.
Even when the music was jumpin', it was smooth. So smooth. And you know what else? When couples were dancing, they actually danced together. You know--he held her right hand in his left hand, his right hand lightly resting at her waist, and her left hand resting lightly on his right shoulder.
OK, so jitterbugging was something else. But at least one knew who was jitterbugging with whom. And the music to which they were jitterbugging was also played by musicians who sat in chairs and played their instruments without flinging them around like monkeys high on adrenaline.
Rant done. And I'm listening to some real, smooth, danceable, singable, swing music!
Bless