Wow... I haven't exactly been a prolific blogger in the past month. Not exactly what you'd like out of a blog that one would like people to read. It has been almost a full month since my last post, dear readers, but, I guarantee, I haven't been resting on my laurels. For a little insight as to what's been going on in the Cuddle household lately, head on over to Mrs. Cuddle's excellent blog The Crepe Confectionary and look for yours truly dressed as Max from Where the Wild Things Are for All Hallow's Eve...
As for today's thoughts, I had every intention of posting an excellent collection of tunes appropriate for Halloween, but just didn't get the time (maybe next year?). I had then planned (on multiple occasions) to blog about one of many artists who have caught my ear recently, but just kind of hit other snags that prevented me from doing so.
In the past week, I've been reflecting quite a bit. To some extent, it has been reflection on my current state, my place in the grand scheme of things (you know, light stuff). Today has me in a contemplative mood, reassessing what music has helped me through the year.
By no means does this mean that this is going to turn into a "Best of 2009" post. Everyone does one of those (and, to be frank, I have one planned), but it's too early. The place I'd like to start at took place on this past Tuesday at the Phoenix Concert Hall in Toronto, Ontario. This writer had the distinct pleasure of seeing (for the first time live) Billy Bragg. Fifteen long years into my love affair with the man and his music led me to that point, and I couldn't have been more enthralled by his performance. Not only did he sound to be in perfect voice (well, perfect for his pipes, anyway) and in great, fiery guitar form, but his song choices were downright legendary. "Levi Stubb's Tears"? Check. "The Saturday Boy"? Check. "Accident Waiting to Happen"? Check. The ENTIRETY of Life's A Riot with Spy vs. Spy, Billy's debut EP? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? CHECK!!! Two hours of worship at the altar of the Bard from Barking left me wanting for nothing (OK, I would have loved to hear "Greetings To the New Brunette" just so that I could give a shout out to this here blog when the lyric came around, but I digress...). I can't wait to see him again, and I hope that I won't have to wait another 15 years before our next encounter. (Pictures of the event are viewable at Ideological Cuddle's favorite blog - Chromewaves - here).
While standing in awe of the man and his music, I did find myself reflecting on the man himself. Billy's getting older (aren't we all?). He will turn 52 years young this year and, to be honest, is starting to look his age. A small belly is evident, his hair is an elegant gray, and the creases in his face are starting to deepen. This is not to say that he couldn't whip the ass of most musical newbies less than half his age, as the man is full of more heady ideas and music than most artists could dream of possessing. It was just a reminder of the passage of time... and the times that Billy Bragg has been present in my life.
This got me thinking deeper... about the last year, about music in general, about what it means to love something or someone, about family, about friends, about professions... quite the stream of consciousness.
Now, I'm not aiming for this post to be a metaphysical discussion or anything, but what's wrong with a little reflection?
This led me to think about Robyn Hitchcock. I still haven't written an entire post dedicated to the man and his (strange) music, but, as I reflected, I realized that it was only this year that Hitchcock's music entered my life. It opened a virtual treasure trove of new avenues for me and led me to an entire back catalogue that, until this year, I had only a trivial idea existed. The song below is the song I think of most. It fits my current mood perfectly.
So, dear readers, reflect on the year. Reflect on what you have, what you wish for, what you need. Think about how lucky we all are to have loved ones, music, and the things in life that feed our souls. No matter where we're all heading - be it Paradise or Basingstoke or Reading or anywhere else - our thoughts can take us there...
Robyn Hitchcock - "I Often Dream of Trains"
Until next time, friends... Be Well...
