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This is what listening to ipod 10 hours straight in shuffle mode made you think.
Meet Indiana Jones
There were years when music is something my parents fed me. Before elementary school, I co-listened to what they listened, that means I listened behind their backs (which explains the source of thievery expertise). They listened to the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and, thank God, lots of classicals. Back when there was only one TV station, my parents used to sit me down watching its classical music program. They had them on tapes so I can watch repeatedly, which I always did. It’s most of the 50’s and 60’s that are killing me.
Elementary school is probably the wildest years of my musical exploration. I was the Indiana Jones of musical search adventure, the one who looked for the Holy Grail of music. I was the Star Trek Final Fontier, I boldly went to where no man (my age) has gone before. I was so alone and dedicated, I deserved an award. It started when a friend of mine, Nar, introduced me to The Beatles, a musical icon which somehow my parents forgot to mention. My first Beatles exposure was, Roll Over Beethoven. Nar told me Roll Over Beethoven was a song saying, “Prepare to extinct, Grandpa Beethoven. The next generation is here to stay.” Instantly brainwashed, I started Beatle-hunt intensively. In only two-month period I had all their albums, listened to every single song, memorized every lyrics, watched every Beatles movie. If there was a profession called The Beatles Historian, I would have made quite a fortune. I knew every birthday, discography, lyrics interpretation and biography.
Not long after that, the expansion began. I was omnivorous; Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, Genesis, Level 42, Culture Club, Depeche Mode, Metallica, Kenny Loggins, Billy Joel, Noel, Human League, Toto Coelo, U2, Louis Armstrong, The Doors and on and on and on. In 1988, Level 42 had their concert held in Jakarta, an event I definitely didn’t want to miss. This wasn’t a drug-abuse-blood-drinking band so there was no way my dad would say no. He did. He said, “It’s dangerous, there will be crowds, plus you’re a shorty, son.” Though his argument hit the jackpot, I still couldn’t believe his choice of words. That was my first musical disappointment.
Hide And Seek
Junior high, the scandalous years. The years of adolescence —the life stage when social acceptance is more important than food, clothing and housing. To be one of the hood, I had to listen to what the hood listened to. And my hood listened to head-banging music. For them, there was only two music: metal and disco (in 80’s disco raged even nastier than in 70’s). You are either in or out. If you listened to metal you are man, if not you are a sissy.
Since brotherhood —pseudo as it was— was important to me, I adopted their music. There was new nuance in my library shelf. It was filled with anything which names are related to death or satan: Necrodeath, Suicidal Tendencies, Morbid Angel, Death Angel, Megadeth, Overkill, Nuclear Assault, Sepultura. I couldn’t risk my ‘brothers’ caught my other collection so I had them in a secret compartment. I had to listen to these hidden collection in whisper mode, around 2 to 3 volume level. It was like having an affair. If, God forbids, I got caught, they would ridicule or shame me (if I were unlucky I'd get both). With almost six years of feeling Indiana Jones, I lived this next three years difficultly. This was my musical version of Living The Years Dangerously.
Regaining Consciousness
In high school sanity hit my head back and I developed my own identity. Screw brotherhood. No one has the right to dictate my taste of music. I started being honest about my junior high school music. These metal nonsense, I hated most of them. One day I threw away these collection and replaced them with the hybernated ones, the secret ones, my true loves. Some of the metal collection actually stood their ground and remained on that shelf —the good ones: Megadeth, Suicidal Tendencies, Metallica, and a few more.
This is the stage when I was fully conscious about my taste. I put every song on my surgeon table. I learned who produced the records, who designed the covers, etc. I espescially learned messages behind lyrics. I had this sick belief that people are always hiding behind lyrics and if I am Sherlock enough I would break down the secrets. Most of the time I was right. This was the highlight of my musical experience. I found out that Sting wrote Why Should I Cry For You for his dead Father. They were never close but still Sting loved him. He wrote, “I’ll love you with my fashion.” I found out that Beatles’ last albums were produced and recorded with deep sadness for they know they were about to part. After a long fight, John and Paul actually became closer than ever. He shed sad tears when he wrote Here Today for John. I did this to every song I knew. These songs are more alive when treated not as songs, but stories (and histories) instead.
I learned many things about music itself more than ever. I tracked down almost every musician I listened to. I looked for changes, development. I saluted some musicians. I saluted Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Bjork, for some. I suspected they were each a category of their own, not a band. I admire U2’s persistence. I stacked books, and live concert laser discs. I was so much of a history hunter, I stopped playing music.
College Years And On
Here I found four prodigies: Leg, Doy, Bud, and Ten. I think I master only one-tenth their knowledge. Funny, I actually learned more about past music more than present ones. I realized there were hundreds of musicians I missed throughout 80’s some that survived through the 90’s. If I were The Beatles Historian, Bud was Peter Gabriel’s. Leg lectured me one whole night about Pink Flloyd and The Who and poisoned me to watch The Wall and Tommy. Music became a whole new world to explore.
Strangely, this is the most relaxing music period for me. Doy taught me to sense music physically first to feel its depth and warmth. Nde taught me to enjoy them spiritually. Leg taught me the wonderous of pumping the volume. Bud taught me history of music industries and managements. These people taught me to take my time and that greedy means hasty (and that is bad news).
.
.
PS:
Meet Indiana Jones
There were years when music is something my parents fed me. Before elementary school, I co-listened to what they listened, that means I listened behind their backs (which explains the source of thievery expertise). They listened to the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and, thank God, lots of classicals. Back when there was only one TV station, my parents used to sit me down watching its classical music program. They had them on tapes so I can watch repeatedly, which I always did. It’s most of the 50’s and 60’s that are killing me.
Elementary school is probably the wildest years of my musical exploration. I was the Indiana Jones of musical search adventure, the one who looked for the Holy Grail of music. I was the Star Trek Final Fontier, I boldly went to where no man (my age) has gone before. I was so alone and dedicated, I deserved an award. It started when a friend of mine, Nar, introduced me to The Beatles, a musical icon which somehow my parents forgot to mention. My first Beatles exposure was, Roll Over Beethoven. Nar told me Roll Over Beethoven was a song saying, “Prepare to extinct, Grandpa Beethoven. The next generation is here to stay.” Instantly brainwashed, I started Beatle-hunt intensively. In only two-month period I had all their albums, listened to every single song, memorized every lyrics, watched every Beatles movie. If there was a profession called The Beatles Historian, I would have made quite a fortune. I knew every birthday, discography, lyrics interpretation and biography.
Not long after that, the expansion began. I was omnivorous; Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, Genesis, Level 42, Culture Club, Depeche Mode, Metallica, Kenny Loggins, Billy Joel, Noel, Human League, Toto Coelo, U2, Louis Armstrong, The Doors and on and on and on. In 1988, Level 42 had their concert held in Jakarta, an event I definitely didn’t want to miss. This wasn’t a drug-abuse-blood-drinking band so there was no way my dad would say no. He did. He said, “It’s dangerous, there will be crowds, plus you’re a shorty, son.” Though his argument hit the jackpot, I still couldn’t believe his choice of words. That was my first musical disappointment.
Hide And Seek
Junior high, the scandalous years. The years of adolescence —the life stage when social acceptance is more important than food, clothing and housing. To be one of the hood, I had to listen to what the hood listened to. And my hood listened to head-banging music. For them, there was only two music: metal and disco (in 80’s disco raged even nastier than in 70’s). You are either in or out. If you listened to metal you are man, if not you are a sissy.
Since brotherhood —pseudo as it was— was important to me, I adopted their music. There was new nuance in my library shelf. It was filled with anything which names are related to death or satan: Necrodeath, Suicidal Tendencies, Morbid Angel, Death Angel, Megadeth, Overkill, Nuclear Assault, Sepultura. I couldn’t risk my ‘brothers’ caught my other collection so I had them in a secret compartment. I had to listen to these hidden collection in whisper mode, around 2 to 3 volume level. It was like having an affair. If, God forbids, I got caught, they would ridicule or shame me (if I were unlucky I'd get both). With almost six years of feeling Indiana Jones, I lived this next three years difficultly. This was my musical version of Living The Years Dangerously.
Regaining Consciousness
In high school sanity hit my head back and I developed my own identity. Screw brotherhood. No one has the right to dictate my taste of music. I started being honest about my junior high school music. These metal nonsense, I hated most of them. One day I threw away these collection and replaced them with the hybernated ones, the secret ones, my true loves. Some of the metal collection actually stood their ground and remained on that shelf —the good ones: Megadeth, Suicidal Tendencies, Metallica, and a few more.
This is the stage when I was fully conscious about my taste. I put every song on my surgeon table. I learned who produced the records, who designed the covers, etc. I espescially learned messages behind lyrics. I had this sick belief that people are always hiding behind lyrics and if I am Sherlock enough I would break down the secrets. Most of the time I was right. This was the highlight of my musical experience. I found out that Sting wrote Why Should I Cry For You for his dead Father. They were never close but still Sting loved him. He wrote, “I’ll love you with my fashion.” I found out that Beatles’ last albums were produced and recorded with deep sadness for they know they were about to part. After a long fight, John and Paul actually became closer than ever. He shed sad tears when he wrote Here Today for John. I did this to every song I knew. These songs are more alive when treated not as songs, but stories (and histories) instead.
I learned many things about music itself more than ever. I tracked down almost every musician I listened to. I looked for changes, development. I saluted some musicians. I saluted Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Bjork, for some. I suspected they were each a category of their own, not a band. I admire U2’s persistence. I stacked books, and live concert laser discs. I was so much of a history hunter, I stopped playing music.
College Years And On
Here I found four prodigies: Leg, Doy, Bud, and Ten. I think I master only one-tenth their knowledge. Funny, I actually learned more about past music more than present ones. I realized there were hundreds of musicians I missed throughout 80’s some that survived through the 90’s. If I were The Beatles Historian, Bud was Peter Gabriel’s. Leg lectured me one whole night about Pink Flloyd and The Who and poisoned me to watch The Wall and Tommy. Music became a whole new world to explore.
Strangely, this is the most relaxing music period for me. Doy taught me to sense music physically first to feel its depth and warmth. Nde taught me to enjoy them spiritually. Leg taught me the wonderous of pumping the volume. Bud taught me history of music industries and managements. These people taught me to take my time and that greedy means hasty (and that is bad news).
.
.
PS:
- Nar disappeared after elementary school. I looked for him for years, no one seemed to be able to locate him, not even Friendster.
- In 2002, there was a rumour that Level 42 would play a gig in Jakarta again the second time. The show was cancelled because the band finally splitted.
- I deleted anything related to Dave Matthews Band, otherwise this would be a very long long article.
- I agree with MTV about the 80's. They're nothing but wrong costumes, bad hair, silly dancing, and great music.
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