the lesson of twentieth century music has been that the mathematics applied to it by skolars of the past didn't work. hell, the skolars of the past recognized serious problems, but these were subsequently, amazingly, ignored.
it is the role of art, when you're godless like me, to illuminate the directions we might move. indeed many of the godly once would have so conceived it unlike our present godly who all of them seem interested only in jacking on their inspirations... billy graham christians in a twilight zone of driving back and forth from the nazi designed stadium built of mobland concrete underwhich are sepulchered who knows how many goomba corpses.
so: since mostly you are trying to get your ear around sounds unwesternly programmed it doesn't do you any good to have a cheat to keep you from hearing.
another stupid status symbol to maintain your powerlessness.
from: i hate electric tuners...
so often, from all sorts of directions, cornel west for instance, we are exhorted to maintain the "simple faith" of our fathers or our grandmothers or howsoever the modus of property devolution might be in whatever tradition is being promulgated. it's a crock, folks. and it's insulting too. my forebears and likely some of yours had complex and ambivalent thoughts concerning living. you might consider mr. john donne.
rosita the kitty was found by her people and has gone home. poverty reigns.
people always dissing you when you're an artist trying to pretend you're some kind of whore entertainer or house decorator or something, and not a serious man righteously pondering the direction of society in this horrible motherfucking year of two thousand and three. priests have taught them this over the generations.
but this is the thing: clearly the folks in power listen to the wrong shit. or they listen wrong or something. 'cos if we were to accept they could groove, well then there's no use making music. might as well be quiet.
1972-1980. United Kingdom. Graham Pulkingham is called over by the Bishop of Coventry to provide whiteface charismatic minstrel entertainment for the proles out in this housing estate on the edge of the city. Where I live a year and a half. Then two and a half years outside Reading. A year in Scotland. Three years betwixt Scotland and Wales.
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