Monday, December 29, 2003
self indulgent introduction: what is twang?
I needed a word to describe all my minor obsessions and life crushes – things like subverts and snowglobes, the handsome family and goats, murder ballads and causing mischief; things which I like a little bit too much and get lost in when I should be acting the responsible adult. Twang is that word.
Twang is the sound of broken hearts bouncing back, of knicker elastic snapping and bottles opening, of balloons popping, overdrafts stretching and ideas bursting. Doris thinks it sound vaguely rude, but then she would. Mostly twang is the sound of a geetar because in these grim times glitter and minor chords can feel like weapons.
If Twang was clever enough to have a philosophy it would be based around sparkly subversiveness and DIY culture. And an abiding love of music, with particular reference to miserable Americans with guitars. I hate the need to put music into neat little marketable boxes but I suppose its inevitable I get filed under alt.country/Americana – whatever They are calling it this week. I’ll return to this rant in the future because it matters far too much to me.
It’s underpinned by my pinkocommieleftybollockspolitics because look around you: it matters. Apathy kills. I still believe in revolutions but I’ve learnt that most important epiphany is the one in your head; you’re the only thing you can change and you may as well start now.
Once, when things were really bad, I was told ‘sometimes all you have, and all you need, is beer, black humour and music to see you through’ I cling to that thought
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Twang is the sound of broken hearts bouncing back, of knicker elastic snapping and bottles opening, of balloons popping, overdrafts stretching and ideas bursting. Doris thinks it sound vaguely rude, but then she would. Mostly twang is the sound of a geetar because in these grim times glitter and minor chords can feel like weapons.
If Twang was clever enough to have a philosophy it would be based around sparkly subversiveness and DIY culture. And an abiding love of music, with particular reference to miserable Americans with guitars. I hate the need to put music into neat little marketable boxes but I suppose its inevitable I get filed under alt.country/Americana – whatever They are calling it this week. I’ll return to this rant in the future because it matters far too much to me.
It’s underpinned by my pinkocommieleftybollockspolitics because look around you: it matters. Apathy kills. I still believe in revolutions but I’ve learnt that most important epiphany is the one in your head; you’re the only thing you can change and you may as well start now.
Once, when things were really bad, I was told ‘sometimes all you have, and all you need, is beer, black humour and music to see you through’ I cling to that thought
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