What is music?

Being surrounded by music enthusiasts, the topic seems to continuously arise, what is music? It was once again posed yesterday (I think my friend thinks I’m bored, sending me all these topical pieces), and once again I had my two pennies waiting, although this is a topic I always try to tread lightly on, in fear of a backlash or offending anyone, as I am not overly informed in this field like I know my friends are to be. So here it goes (fingers crossed).

Response to:

OBJECT OF SUBJECTIVITY

Following is an excerpt:

“Commercial music is definitely where the money is and that is the direction you should walk at if you want to sell albums and be rich and famous. There are loads of bands that I consider amazing, but they are not even close in making it as big as Bieber and perhaps never will. But as you would have figured, Bieber is not listed in any of those music sources I read, or the radio station I listen to.

So what is good music? What would be the criteria of being a successful musician? When you go platinum? I don’t think that is the case, because if that is true, all musicians should be making commercial music. On the other hand, selling albums is one of the top priorities of any bands.

Music is subjective. I think this is the beauty in all creative industries. What one person loves might be what another despises.

I would like to end with a message for you to; don’t be shy and crank up your music! As ANY music is good, it is just a difference of preference.”

I think this is where the confusion lays… today the music industry presents itself as much more than just music. It is a moneymaking factory, a commodity, a perfect engagement of marketing, advertising and entertainment. Companies do not scout for artists; they scout for opportunities for molding and sculpting of an image to fit a specific criterion to produce the dollars. It seems these days all you need is a half decent voice and a pretty face (males included) to call yourself a singer or a musician. Records does not equate to music, it just is a measure of popularity. Minus the face paint, stupid wigs and ugly costumes that is Lady Ga Ga (even the name you cannot take seriously), I cannot believe she would sell as many records. She is a perfect example of a gimmick, but gimmicks get old, so I am curious as to how she is going to continue capturing peoples’ attention and entertain. Real music however, does not get old, it’s that track that you will continue to play on repeat and ten years on will unashamedly discover it once again and still be amazed at every note and every lyric that you hear and you will still appreciate it like you did when you were first acquainted. It’s the track that makes you smile for no real reason, the track you want your kids to know that you listened to when you were younger.

Just because one can play an instrument and put a few notes and words together doesn't mean it is music nor does it mean that one is a musician. There is music, which is an expression, an art and then there is noise (but noise can be also good, don’t get me wrong). We can all hold pens, write and draw but we do not (should not) all call ourselves writers, artists or designers. I do not have an answer to the criteria of “being an artist” but I have observed that many who we would call artists never seem to place such labels on themselves, they simply say they make music, they say they paint, they write but are not artists. Coming from an architecture background, architecture in the common sense means buildings. Ask me what is architecture, I will not say it is what surrounds us or what we inhabit, they are merely just a means of shelter, architecture is that structure that deserves to be paused at, and I think, “wow.” Wow in every sense that I cannot name and simply looking at it makes me happy and inspires me to improve and think differently and despite my personal taste in style I am still able to appreciate it regardless. Architecture is the product of consideration, consideration of materials, construction, form and space, the consideration of its environment, the future, the people, society and quality of life. That is architecture. Builders can build houses but are not architects.

Selling albums is not the highest priority of all bands. True musicians hold making good music above all else, as it represents who they are, as music is art and art is self-expression. There are loads of artists who are not willing to sacrifice their artistic integrity for the chase of money. Temper Trap was offered a contract of numerous zeros for “Sweet Disposition” to be used in an advertisement, but declined. Why? Well I have not asked them personally but I can only assume they didn’t want their music to be abused and tarnished. They did not want the integrity of their art to be misplaced and just be known in association with a product or a brand so they can receive a heavy cheque at the end of the day.

The line is unclear to what we call art. Yes it is subjective, but I believe in any case art is a talent, it comes with thought and from a personal place, it questions and makes us think, it pushes boundaries. I think money, media, stupidity and lack of commonsense blurs our judgment quite a bit when it comes to art. We cannot go around calling everything art, or everything music because then we run the risk of everything becoming meaningless.

In keeping consistent with the previous blog, I leave you with two quotes from one of my favourite architects, Tadao Ando (mastermind)

"My hand is the extension of the thinking process - the creative process."

"You can't really say what is beautiful about a place, but the image of the place will remain vividly with you. "

- Tadao Ando

Conformity.

Knowing that I love to debate and have an opinion on everything, my friend recently sent me a piece to occupy my day. The following are excerpts of her writings and my two cents, or should I say two pennies worth.

Response to:

THE HUMAN MIND IS VERY COMPLEX YET EASILY MANIPULATED

(This was written after reading, THE LUCIFER EFFECT by PHILLIP ZIMBARDO)

“We live in a world that is shaped and controlled by authority and society. I do agree that we do need rules and guidance to be able to live in harmony with other beings. Thou shall not kill. Thou shall not steal. And the list goes on.”

These are more morals that should be instilled in us by human nature. It is disturbing to think that these are rules laid upon us, teaching us of how we should live our lives.

“Verbal communication is the topic of today as it is the most effective way to influence others.”

I argue with you in saying that verbal communication is not the most effective way to influence, but is the one most widely used. Verbal communication has boundaries; language boundaries, literacy boundaries, educational boundaries, technological boundaries, it is governed and censored. Actions are less restrained by such factors and is understood no matter the education or literary level, no matter the language spoken or the culture or era lived in and can be effective through any technological advancement. A smile or a hand outstretched is a universal language, one that is even understood through different species. Example of the fireman, hand outstretched to help the koala.

“Do you remember Hitler?

Once upon a time, there was a man who decided to conquer the world with the power of words. I believe he succeeded. He persuaded many to do the unthinkable… I honestly could not say that I would be a hero and not hand over my Jewish neighbour to be taken away… A very similar situation occurred in Rwanda genocide in 2004 where the Hutu were encouraged to murder all the Tutsi.”

Hitler did not conquer the world with words of persuasion, he conquered the world by instilling fear, preying on the weak and offering a utopian ideology. That is what dictators do, identify insecurities and peoples fear and feed off them. You would have turned your Jewish neighbour in, (hopefully) not because you believe in the words of Hitler, but because you fear the word of Hitler and it is not the words that you fear as such, it is the acts of persecution if his words you were not perceived to lay belief in.

Similar was the case in Rwanda, the Hutu Power took advantage of existing ethnic tensions, encouraged a growth in fear of disposition which was later seen to be affirmed with the murder of one of their political leaders, thus seemingly giving grounds for genocide to occur. In a country where there are education and technological limits, how are the people meant to know/learn any different to what they are fed.

If conspiracies on George Bush and his government prove to be true, he (allowed or) manufactured a state of fear, by presenting a world of anarchy and terror. When ones position is threatened, logic and intelligence are often thrown out the window and all it takes is a strong figure to lead offering assurance and security. If there were no 9/11, and there was no presence of dooming war, do you really think that Bush would have been able to round such support from the American people with his words for so long? Bush spoke of no wise memorable words. He did not inspire he just offered a sense of security and justice to a nation that felt threatened and whom are at large poorly educated or ignorant. The truth is not always given, but must be searched and questioned with an open mind, which most are too lazy to do.

“WE BELIEVE AND WE CONFORM. We conform because we want to impress others and be accepted in a group.”

We conform because we are afraid. We conform because we do not believe and trust in ourselves and rely on others to tell us who we are. We rely on others approval for our own approval in existence. It takes great strength for one to stand out apart from the crowd, to be a voice rather than to be just ears.

People sacrifice their truths in fear that others will deem them wrong. Why do we lay such heavy significance on others thoughts if it is our own truth?

“Who decides the style of fashion that is going to be ‘in’ next season? … Remember the shirt-dress? 7 out of 10 girls wore a shirt-dress with leggings for a period of time. I hated it.”

I think there is a fine line between conforming and informing. I was one of the 7 that wore the shirt-dresses, but are you to say that I was conforming? Perhaps I was just being informed… as today, I am sure that shirt-dresses are pretty much not in vogue and I still wear such attire, but it’s more about how I make that style my own.

You can say that people change to conform… what about those that are anti-conformity, they are also being swayed by social behaviors. They are choosing not to conform on the grounds that they don’t want to conform, not on the grounds that they don’t stand for whatever it is that everyone is conforming to. I know for a fact, you choose not to like things because it is mainstream or because it is too popular, or you begin to like things less because everyone likes it and you do not want to be like everyone, peer pressure in the reverse?

“Individuality is something that is sort after yet hard to find.”

Too much emphasis is laid on “individuality.” You cannot sort after it. It is who you are, and until you find the person that you are, individuality will always elude you, you are just “conforming” to anothers’ individualism. And what is individuality? Why must we sort out for it? Is it because we are uncomfortable in our own skin that we search for “individualism” to make us stand out rather then having faith in the person that we are to make us different and liked? While others are wearing black, I don’t need to be wearing white to feel like an individual. I know if I am one of a million who are wearing black this does not alter who I am and this does not mean I will be forgotten amongst the masses. Take for example identical twins, two people who look the same, but yet, people will be drawn to one more than the other based on personality and the person that they are, not by the individualism that they aesthetically display.

Society does judge a book by it’s cover, but only if we care for it, only if we do not have faith in the strength of our hearts and personalities that we allow this to effect us.

I leave you with this quote:

"Most people do not openly force us into roles, they merely suggest that we adopt them through their reactions to us, and hence surreptitiously prevent us from moving beyond whatever mold they have assigned us."

– Alain de Botton, Essays in Love.

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http://boobookittyfuck.deviantart.com/art/i-can-always-make-you-smile-1950599

Life Is One Big Improv.

‘One of the most important rules that make improv possible, for example, is the idea of agreement, the notion that a very simple way to create a story- or humour- is to have characters accept everything that happens to them… bad improvisers block action, often with a high degree of skill. Good improvisers develop action.’

~ "Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking" by Malcolm Galdwell

Often are our thoughts, romanticized by a personal ideal of how we envision situations to eventuate. Like when someone first catches your eye. You begin to fantasize a serendipitous acquainting, love at first sight, a whimsical bond and than everything that is happily ever after. The image is always a bit hazy, details are not quite clear, just like a “dream photo,” or like when the lights turn on in the club… and than, the dream ends. We’ve all been there, when we were once young and stupid of course.

So when our utopian is seemingly snatched from our reach, we begin to crumble and ask rhetorical questions pertaining to self-doubt and cursing the higher powers above. How many minutes have been wasted on thoughts dwelled on something that we can never, with all our might and superhuman powers, ever change. We can remain deluded and leave our heads up in the clouds or we can just accept the hand that life has given us, like in Big 2 when you get the 3Diamonds, what can you do?

There is nothing more admirable than a person who possesses ambition and a heart full of aspiration, but there comes a point where reality (such an ugly word) must take over, where me must have faith in fate and allow for the possibility that sometimes these aspirations and dreams we must fore go, put on pause or that a diverting route must be followed, and that it is OK. In the chase of a dream, we should not disallow new dreams to emerge. I don’t know what it is that gets us stuck at this point, although I am of the belief that it is not the judgment of others that we fear most, but it is the judgment from ourselves that holds us back.

In Sydney I was somebody, somebody with dreams and many extensive plans of my ideal overseas experience. In London I am nobody. I am merely one of a million who flock to this grand city to chase the same dream. For a brief moment I was caught up in the whole “Glenda of Sydney” mentality. It took a few wise words from a good friend to make me snap out of my ego and slight disappointment on what I felt was a downgrade and forget the worthless worries I had bestowed upon myself. I had to remind myself that it took me 25 years to build a fantastic life and I cannot expect to pick up things in London where I left off in Sydney. Reality Check. I knew this when I left, but it was the whole “dream photo syndrome.” So I have loosened my plans, allowing for whatever to come my way and to revel in the moment because as I had said before, who is to judge??

Upon hearing of my departure, a sure question of my return was always posed. I was insistent that I would make somewhere off shore my home, but now, when the two year mark arrives, and if London sends me packing back to Sydney, I will not at all be disappointed.

I know fate has a great plan but impatience is my curse.

When In Anger...

From the moment I decided to leave, I had set out a mission to attend (gatecrash) as many BBQ's as possible during my last Australian summer, for when I first traveled to Europe in 2005, after 5 weeks of being abroad, that is the one thing that I craved the most upon my return. BUT... BBQ's do exist in London!! We bought a portable disposable one from the supermarket. The BBQ/picnic seduced me into a food coma where I spent the remaining of the lazy day sleeping off the feast in the 18 degree sun (makes me laugh, as Sydney begins a synchronised groaning at anything below 20). No better way to enjoy the weekend (well everyday is the weekend for me at the moment).

Remember the wintery haunted London Fields??

where in Summer people come out to play...

There is nothing quite more elating than being amongst a mass of strangers, from varied walks of life, all out to have a grand relaxing day.

Peace on earth... this is how the world should live.

When in anger, have a picnic!

London Fields: Lone soldier.

London Fields: They would be prettier in purple...

Regents Park: How great are these trees!

Regents Park: I think tulips are creeping in to my favourites list.

Another Art Dies.

As far as my memory serves, I have always felt most complete with a pen in hand. It was not until recently that I have replaced that pen for my beloved Mac keyboard. Writing has since become somewhat easier, with thoughts becoming more concise as phrases may be chopped, changed, swapped and erased, but I do miss having a pen in my hand, and the permanency that it represents. For so long it was like an extension of my arm, it was my best friend that saw me through heartaches and numerous lonely and confused adolescent days.

I miss the sound of the point being swirled around against the surface of the paper. I miss flicking through my journal and feeling the aged, creased, used pages of my brain unfolded, contrasting against the fresh untouched pages just daring to be marked. I miss cleaning through my junk to find scraps with random scribbled thoughts, thoughts that could not wait for a more suitable medium to be released onto. I miss the character and tactile qualities that hand written pieces possess, like it’s a piece of memory, a unique piece of history stamped in time. I miss exchanging letters and reminiscing over old conversations you once shared with another (it always serves as a good distraction when cleaning or having to pack). Emailed conversations just get erased or are never nostalgically re read, even more so with phone messaging. The evolution of written expression has gone from journals and letters, to emails, bbm’s, Facebook status’ and now a blog… it’s all becoming increasingly less personal and forgettable.

In the past, words would easily flow only in turbulent times and for about 5 years or so the writing had ceased altogether as I just became lazy, and found it difficult to write for reasons other than misery, which I was tired of writing about. How is it, that it took a journey across the world for me to once again find the capacity to string along some meaningful words and sentences, but refreshing to know also that I am not just a literate for sadness.

The other day I sat down to write a letter to find, something that once offered so much satisfaction, has now become a foreign, drawn out and tiring feat. If handwriting feels almost alien to me now, I wonder how will my children in the future fare against such a task? The thought actually saddens me a little…

I Am Alive

Though an immense mass of water lay between us, 11 odd hours and even though we now have complete separate lives to one another, there have remained a few who have helped hold my heart on heavy days… love.

It is difficult for me to admit, but this transition in my life has not been as sweet as I thought roses were to be. I was so adamant that I could do this with the ease of a blink of an eye, but there have been days where the heart has been heavy.

I am first to advertise my independence and need for change and adventure, and I knew it would be challenging, but we always underestimate the emotional trials of all of our endeavors. I remember once when I was on a whinging rampage on how I always somehow arrive to complicated circumstances, a close friend of mine timely reminded me, that for the 10 years she has known me, I have always opted for the more problematic and complex path. I somewhat knowingly denied, correcting her by stating it was the reverse, the path had always opted for me. The whinging stopped. Just goes to show, you can try fool yourself, but you can never fool friends, who know you best. Apparently I do not like things to be simple in my life. This comment, has since rung like a conscience at every trying moment, and I guess this was the main consideration behind my decision to leave a place I call home, as (at the risk of sounding ungrateful) life just became too easy and monotonous, to the point where I began to feel like I was a machine on auto-pilot.

My second week here was the most difficult emotionally. Once the eurphoria had begun to subside, and Jess returned to work after taking a week off to spend time with me, the reality of all that I had left behind had finally overwhelmingly dawned on me. I missed home real bad. Home not as in my city home, but home as in my friends, and although the timing of my journey back to Australia is yet to be known, and most likely to be years away, I am already excited for the day that I can give them all BIGGER than BIG hugs!!

I willingly threw myself into a sea of uncertainty and for the first time found myself travelling a journey feeling entirely alone. Although this is something I need and want to do independently, I cannot help but envy those who have embarked on such an adventure with a partner, to be able to share everything that is new together. I think I miss that the most, being able to share my day with someone and having someone share their day with me.

Presented before me, mixed with uncertainty is also, a sea of endless possibilities, and for one that wants to do everything, see everything, become everything, learn everything, I am consistently at a positive place of dazed confusion with no one but myself to find my way through the mess. Usually in Sydney, everyday I would return home with a new brainwave that I'd share with my friends and by their facial reactions I was able to conclude whether to proceed or abort. I miss their assurance. I miss their guidance.

Now, I am my own judge and jury and I must have faith in the path that I am on and meant to follow... tomorrow is truly a mystery... and this terrifies me but at the same time greatly excites me... I am alive.

Sing A Rainbow.

When I was younger (high school younger), I was really into all things black, brown and neutral coloured, as I perceived these colours to be "grown up" and sophisticated. Funny how as a child that is all you anxiously aspire to be, although I think it had more to do with the idea of legally being able to do more than just go to the cinemas and hang out at shopping centres on the weekends. Than somewhere along the way, I became anti. Perhaps it coincided with becoming a bartender, so black equated to work/uniform, or perhaps it had something to do with observations of female asians always being in black attire and my fears of being type-casted (maybe I just hung around George St too much??), or perhaps it was me accepting the fact that I was young and no matter my wardrobe I could not fool the world when I have a baby-face like I do.

For those that do not know me too well, or for those that have not taken a hint by the appearance of my blog, I love pretty colours. Before my arrival to the North side, I had been informed to invest in black black black. Booooooo. I stressed on this point for quite some time, especially when my wardrobe was similar to that of a rainbow, colour co-ordinated and all.

Black is just all too serious.

I love post-it notes (sticky notes) but I never was able to find a reason to put them to use...

EepyBird's Sticky Note experiment from Eepybird on Vimeo.

This is one of my favourite ads on tv. Just 'cause it's pretty.

Sony Europe : Bravia Balls from Dane Brehm on Vimeo.

Do you think their mood changes with the colour?

Super chameleon from NEVER HIDE FILMS on Vimeo.

Are you afraid of the Dark?

Living in a jaded reality. They’re concealed by an infectious smile, laughs, jokes and a perceivable loving nature but their truth is caught peering through in the seconds of silence. It’s a sad case that at such an age one is still trying to justify their existence in the world. People whom make appearances to portray a status to create an illusion of importance and happiness, but when stripped of their social demeanor they will struggle at "show and tell."

Parasites. Leeches. Plagues. They bathe in their own insecurities paving a path of destruction with little regard to whom they shall effect, especially if they are a “loved” one, for the ones that love are the ones that will always remain, it is others hearts that they must stamp permanency in. Everyone is a mere purpose in the game, like pawns, used to benefit only themselves, nothing is of coincidence and love is only proclaimed in convenience.

They stand on a mountain of glory built on foundations of lies and deceit. They gaze upon their feats, not of personal successes, but of the demise of others. They are the ones that demand the spotlight, that dress in costumes of diamonds and gold, wanting the role of lead guitar, for they are unaware that it is really the drummer that leads the show.

We all have faults, but the difference between us is that when confronted by the evils of our doings you will knowingly deny as if to think we are fools that will passively dismiss. The difference between us, is that in the moments of darkness and silence I am able to sit fearless in peace, whilst you will scramble, alone, for the light.