One of the few things that keeps me sane while doing this job (looking after the two psychotic dwarfs that are my beloved children) is the vast amounts of music I play while I'm doing it. I need it. I need to know there are people out there whose attention spans are longer than the kids' (and by extension mine). Some tracks are over three minutes long!
The other day I realised I was getting in a rut. Playing the same dozen or so Thud Thud Thud heavily bassed electronica CDs over and over again - which is stupid given that I have some 1500 CDs and LPs to choose from, I think it was the fact that we have so many that was just short circuiting my choice circuits. Too many! Too many! Panic! That one! ...and whoopee! I'm listening to Royksopp or Leftfield yet again.
So this week I have started a new regime. Each day I am restricted to listening to artists starting with a certain letter. One letter a day. (Phoebe, you might want to put your fingers in your eyes for the next sentence...)
Because I have all my music thoroughly alphabetised this isn't difficult.
Friday (you can look now, P) was C: Elvis Costello, Cheryl Crow, Nina Cherry, Nick Cave; yesterday was H: John Lee Hooker, Howlin' Wolf, Olaf Hund, Haydn and Handel. Today is F (There's no rhyme or reason behind the choice of letters). The Family Dogg, The Fugees, Quatre Black Brothers (recorded in a dustbin, 70s Afrojazz - and I know Quatre Black Brothers starts with a Q but - absurdly weird Franglais of the name aside - it says 4 Black Brothers on the cover so it got bunged in the Fs . Calm down, P, it's over.).
It's great discovering all the stuff I had totally forgotten I had bought, some I'm sure I have never listened to after buying and filing it. Why for instance, do I own quite so many Frankie Goes to Hollywood LPs? I played one and Daisy asked me to take it off after side one. She "didn't like it". So we listened to Connie Francis singing 'Never on a Sunday and other Hits From the Movies' instead. She liked that a lot more. Sad to say so did I.
So, there I was, sorting the laundry, rediscovering Aretha Franklin*, joining in, belting out You Make Me Feel (Like a Natural Woman) at the top of my lungs, when I realised I had tears streaming down my face. I had forgotten what a great song it was. Gets me every time. Trying to explain it to Holly was a little difficult.
"Why are you crying?"
"I don't know. This song made me cry."
"Stop listening to it."
"No, it's a good kind of crying."
I may have to go back to the sterile Electronica. I don't have to explain it to the kids. I just have to turn it down because I play it too loud. "Too loud, Daddy, too Loud!". They'll get their revenge when they are teenagers I'm sure.
*How had I forgotten about Aretha Franklin? I mean how? Though it was gratifying to see as I typed this that Firefox's spell checker knows about her and hasn't queried her name! Didn't like "Firefox's" though. Baffling.
The other day I realised I was getting in a rut. Playing the same dozen or so Thud Thud Thud heavily bassed electronica CDs over and over again - which is stupid given that I have some 1500 CDs and LPs to choose from, I think it was the fact that we have so many that was just short circuiting my choice circuits. Too many! Too many! Panic! That one! ...and whoopee! I'm listening to Royksopp or Leftfield yet again.
So this week I have started a new regime. Each day I am restricted to listening to artists starting with a certain letter. One letter a day. (Phoebe, you might want to put your fingers in your eyes for the next sentence...)
Because I have all my music thoroughly alphabetised this isn't difficult.
Friday (you can look now, P) was C: Elvis Costello, Cheryl Crow, Nina Cherry, Nick Cave; yesterday was H: John Lee Hooker, Howlin' Wolf, Olaf Hund, Haydn and Handel. Today is F (There's no rhyme or reason behind the choice of letters). The Family Dogg, The Fugees, Quatre Black Brothers (recorded in a dustbin, 70s Afrojazz - and I know Quatre Black Brothers starts with a Q but - absurdly weird Franglais of the name aside - it says 4 Black Brothers on the cover so it got bunged in the Fs . Calm down, P, it's over.).
It's great discovering all the stuff I had totally forgotten I had bought, some I'm sure I have never listened to after buying and filing it. Why for instance, do I own quite so many Frankie Goes to Hollywood LPs? I played one and Daisy asked me to take it off after side one. She "didn't like it". So we listened to Connie Francis singing 'Never on a Sunday and other Hits From the Movies' instead. She liked that a lot more. Sad to say so did I.
So, there I was, sorting the laundry, rediscovering Aretha Franklin*, joining in, belting out You Make Me Feel (Like a Natural Woman) at the top of my lungs, when I realised I had tears streaming down my face. I had forgotten what a great song it was. Gets me every time. Trying to explain it to Holly was a little difficult.
"Why are you crying?"
"I don't know. This song made me cry."
"Stop listening to it."
"No, it's a good kind of crying."
I may have to go back to the sterile Electronica. I don't have to explain it to the kids. I just have to turn it down because I play it too loud. "Too loud, Daddy, too Loud!". They'll get their revenge when they are teenagers I'm sure.
*How had I forgotten about Aretha Franklin? I mean how? Though it was gratifying to see as I typed this that Firefox's spell checker knows about her and hasn't queried her name! Didn't like "Firefox's" though. Baffling.
1 comment:
Awww. What a sweet post.
I have to admit, during the organization part I got a little dazed and confused.
And I wished you would come alphabetize Tyler and my CDs and movies because we end up endlessly searching for them.
All our movies are in great and indistinguishably similar black DVD binders and in no particular order. Tyler would argue that random is still a type of order. I get annoyed and wander out of the room at that.
When we want to watch something, we leaf through them forlornly, and we never know what's missing. We just assume that things are missing and feel yet more forlorn.
We both tend to order our CDs in clumps of bands. Those clumps don't seem to be in a particular order.
You would probably hate standing around as one of us says "Hold on a sec - I am sure it's around in this area somewhere. You are really going to like this CD!" only to learn that it will never be found because it's missing.
Please please please come to Portland and help us sort out our stuff while we unpack so that we wont be stuck with it in bad order for the next 13 years.
Ah if only we used speed. I'm dying to know your secret - I don't think it's speed.
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