Ahhh, yes – it’s my birthday once again. I would say my birthday and New Year’s Eve are the two days of the year where I get the most introspective.
I am the youngest of five children – the “accident” you might say. It’s been a hard and awkward thing to be the littlest guy compared to all of the adults that have encircled your life since birth. I always wanted to be older than my age, cause that meant being on an even playing field with people you so desperately wanted approval from. But then you blink and you realize that you aren’t chasing after a specific age anymore, but just living life and growing more at ease in your skin and with the molecules that make up who you are.
So, a happy birthday it will always be.
Ever since “Umbrella”, I’ve had a thing for Rihanna songs. All of the main singles that she’s released, I have really enjoyed a lot and they’ve each had a good run on my iPod.
When I first heard “Rude Boy”, I immediately loved it. Really loved it. Then, I became obsessed with it, and it hasn’t let go. It’s the most vulgar song, with our girl Rihanna assessing men’s genetilia and explaining how her preferred way of having sex. Yep – the absolute recipe for a great catchy song.
I’ve decided it’s a combination of her voice and the production of the song. It’s got an irresistible beat and it really just gets trapped in your head for hours on end.
Upon hearing the song, I immediately sent the video link to my sister – and I’ve gotten her addicted to the song now too. She’s probably worse at it than I am, but none the less we both have acknowledged that our obsessive qualities have gotten the best of us where this song is concerned.
For your listening and viewing pleasure:
Is it weird that I think about Michael Jackson once a day? I think it’s a little strange, and yet I guess at the same time I didn’t think his death would have such an impact on me. I love his music. I mean, I LOVE his music – and I thought for a long time, he was just a really misunderstood person. But, then as time gone on, he just became weirder and weirder – somehow trapped in his own persona. He disappeared and we all stopped caring.
Then he died, and we all care too much now.
I do think that he was a creative genius – that kind of unschooled person who just inherently breathed, ate, lived his art. The way he moved, the way he sang – he was unlike any person on the planet.
And now I find most of his songs make me sad now, especially the happy ones. I think about how my daughter will know of this Michael Jackson person perhaps in the same way that I feel about Elvis – that this human created such a stir amongst the masses that he couldn’t have possibly really have walked the earth.
Due to my crazed influence, one of Lea’s fave songs to relax and fall asleep to is “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin'”. Yep, leave it to me to get my kid to chill and snooze to a upbeat, special, giddy song! We listen to that song together nearly every night, and she always has the same sweet smile on her face when it starts and when she plops her head onto my shoulder, I know that she feels safe and alright.
Somehow, that song makes me feel the same way also.
John Lennon was a prophet as far as I’m concerned.
George Harrison was a sage as far as I’m concerned.
Ringo Starr is just a fun-loving happy great vibe guy as far as I’m concerned.
And then there’s Paul McCartney.
I watched the entire Beatles “Anthology” in the summer of 2003. That was my summer of “discovering” The Beatles. Understanding their significance in popular music, understanding their songs…if you think about how they (amongst other trailblazers from that era) paved the way for all things pop music that we see today, it’s pretty amazing.
I had an aversion to Paul McCartney. Don’t get me wrong – I thought it was talented and could sing well, but I just thought that he came off as arrogant and smug when the other three seem to have their hearts and minds in more grounded places. Plus, I couldn’t forgive him and Stevie Wonder for the travesty that is “Ebony and Ivory”.
Funny things happen all the time, and karmic times brought me to Paul McCartney’s “Up and Coming Tour” concert at the Air Canada Centre on August 9th. Suffice to say that his show is now one of my favorite concerts I have ever seen in my life. Turns out I was the arrogant gong show this entire time. Humble pie, please.
The man performed for three hours straight without stopping – Beatles songs, Wings songs, solo songs – some I knew, some I didn’t. All were great. He was personable, shared some great stories about Jimi Hendrix and allowed lengthy standing ovations for his friends John and George – ovations that were so moving.
So I have changed my tune, so to speak. It was a great show.
(Along with Paul’s show, Sarah McLachlan’s Surfacing Tour (1997), U2’s Elevation Tour (2001) and Madonna’s Drowned World Tour (2001) rank in my faves.)
Leave it to a random comment from someone from Asia to kick me in the ass to start writing on my blog again.
To be honest, I was actually thinking about it for a while. It’s not like I didn’t like blogging, but it’s hard to find time to write these days. But, I’m making a more conscious effort to get back in the swing of things.