Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Modern Music

It's been like a hundred years ago when music was still music, and songs were still songs. Those were the good old days...

Last Saturday I clerked a closed treasure hunt for a bank. It was organised in conjunction with their annual family day, and the hunt was one of the team-building events that they had for the day. It was a whole day event, and it culminated into a grand dinner party in the evening which was attended by the VIPs of the bank. Ordinarily, the answer presentation would be held shortly after the hunt, but in my case, the presentation was scheduled during the dinner at about 8pm.

Now as you'd probably know, it is customary here in Malaysia that the VIPs are hardly ever on time when attending such events, and as the result the programme for the night had to be adjusted to fit into the now limited timeframe.

After the several speeches by the VIPs, I thought I would be up next, as it was already approaching 8:30pm. But that was wishful thinking, as next in line for the evening's programme was a life band performance. I was given to understand that this particular band performs regularly in a local club, and apparently they're quite good.

The ladies had extremely tiny dress; it made me wonder why bother with the clothes at all. I can't remember when was the last time I saw a life band performance. I sat there waiting for my turn, and when the music started, it was horrifyingly loud—I thought my eardrums would burst. Several musical instruments all seemingly vying to be louder than each other. Then when the singers started their songs, I couldn't make out a single word; I had no clue what the heck were they shouting about. And these people were supposed to be one of the best in the market. I can't imagine what the lousy ones are like. Seriously now, can the audience really enjoy these performances?...I mean, really?

Well, it was already past 9pm by the time I was up for my presentation because the singers had to stop for a short break. I rushed through my presentation, and wrapped things up in 15minutes I think. After that, I was happy to leave the venue before the band continued its performance. I arrived home at about 10pm and was in bed by 11pm. I managed to catch a few hours' sleep, but had to be up again at 4am for my 25km run starting at 4:45am.

I'm thinking perhaps if I consumed a few shots of strong liquor and became drunk, maybe the loud meaningless noises can sound good, I don't know. Hell, maybe the ladies can appear like they're without clothes too; not that there is much difference with that little piece of clothes they had on anyway.

Modern music—if that's what it's called—is an almost impossible thing to enjoy; yet so many people enjoy it! It's one of those big mysteries that can't be explained. Thankfully, however, my eardrums are still intact.


Unknown said...

In a general sense I find most of the English songs nowadays extremely bland: either they have primitive, repetitive lyrics, or the lyrics will rant about how they douse themselves in alcohol and how the ladies shake their this and that and how they would like to this and that with the ladies.

Local bars, on the other hand, seem to have this logic that the louder the music is the better the crowd gets to appreciate it. Clubs require loud music to keep the beat up for dancing, but I don't think the same applies to bars. It's hard ti find a place where I can just sit down, have a drink and have a nice chat with my friends.

Cornelius said...

Juin Yi Ng,

I have a plausible explanation. Since the audience are presumably music lovers, is it not reasonable to expect them to know the lyrics of the songs already? So even if what the singer shouts about is unclear, the audience can still make sense of it all? But I still can't quite fathom the loudness part of it all.

A friend's father was a mechanic who worked in the huge generator plant of SESB. His whole life is subject to such big noise from the engines. He had ear plugs most of the time he's in the plant. He went to a pub once with another friend, and he described his experience at the pub as louder than the engines at the plant.