I dont think that anything matters more in art than sincerity. Rarely have I noticed this more than while driving yesterday, when with the same morbid fascination as others might slow down to watch a car wreck, I endured a jazz vocalist backphrasing into last week while covering a classic rock tune, complete with digital piano accompaniment. I felt nauseous, because an artists greatest power is to move people with the truth, and I was being musically lied to: the delivery had absolutely nothing to do with the lyrics and together with the fake piano, well... Finally Id had enough, and with the press of a button landed on a rock station, which by amazing coincidence was playing the intro to Elton Johns Saturday Nights Alright For Fighting. Now THERE is a song and performance that MEANS it. I blasted the crap out of my car system, ritually exorcising the previous toxins Id ingested, while giving my vocal cords a run for their money. When the song was done, I had to switch off the radio because I felt like Id been THROUGH something. That is what I expect to feel with art. Anything less goes into the Life Is Waaaaay Too Short bin, hopefully in less time than it took to discard that first song.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 13:03:57 +0000
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