Why I am no longer mad, or how I learnt to control musical impulses and flunk the Turing Test – II

February 13, 2009

I got pampered as an undergraduate getting music for almost free (as I do now). It doesn’t matter that Napster no longer rolls Music companies into Gordian knots (or does it?). There’s YouTube and metacafe, which seem to have burrowed a hole right under Tommy Mottola‘s bravado (On second thoughts, maybe he’s not that concerned. Perhaps not everyone matches up to the desis in being cheap).

It was music to all our ears when it played hard-to-get. There was so much more in chasing after it, and acquiring that piece of tape (Oh yes, we bought tapes back then). That tape, of course, was the keystone to a strange and sonorous world that was ours. Like Rome, it wasn’t built in a day. We discovered new voices that escaped the idiot box (and the idiots populating it).  There were sudden epiphanies that redeemed the hundred rupees a few thousand times over. We felt up little jingles that nested inside somewhere, sowed them over wastelands that were begging to drink them in.

And boy, did we reap what we sowed.

Now of course, we fret if it takes more than five seconds to find what we want – it’s either buried in an a small (but tagged!) universe, or up there on the great Video mother ship. The desire to listen isn’t as much an urge as an itch – we scratch it out as soon as it starts to bloom. And as happens with all scratches, we just end up whipping those cells that had an appetite. Those ones that asked for more. What Twisted minds we’ve developed.

PS: There are anomalies. Tony Peluso does this (at the end), and nothing can get me from playing him repeatedly on a tired laptop. But Tony Peluso did not twitter, and neither did he volunteer to enter  Big Brother. He lived when Led Zeppelin could afford to name their albums I,II,III,and IV.

Fifteen minutes wasn’t much in those days.

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