There is a difference between music-lovers and music-likers. There are those who listen to music in the car, bopping along to whatever the charts tell them is “good” and popular. They’ve probably never heard of Depeche Mode, Edith Piaf, Jeff Buckley, The Tea Party, or Tom Waits.
Then there are those that feel what I feel.
Music, food for my soul, in every painful lyric, every bleating note and every harmony strummed, fuels my lust for life. It moves me so violently, so passionately, not ever understanding what elevates me up to another plane and smashes me back down again.
So begins an odyssey of extra-sensory experiences that I choose to share with you. And for those who have never experienced the bittersweet highs and lows of great music, this is especially for you.
Muse, kings already after such a short reign, stand tall and proud as they rock the arena with riffs that rip right through you, into the very core of your being and reverberate within the walls of your flesh. Bellamy’s guitar creates a crescendo that wails and screams its fury against a backdrop of drums pounding out a steady pulse to this anthem, the bold beats churning the mosh into a sea of upraised fists fucking the air as the silver discs of percussion smash in cataclysmic climax.
This is what music is all about. No, this is what music should be all about.
It ought to move you.
It ought to ROCK you.
