The scent of things

The last time I popped into the hilton to use the loo, I noticed a nice grand piano and the performance days and times of the musicians. So I made a date with oaks yesterday to go and check out some of their music. It's an open lounge, smack in between the entrance and the buffet area. We ordered some drinks. They gave us some complimentary fried wanton skins with spinach dip. Whatever happened to bloody normal peanuts?

The music made me sick. I think I use my nose too much but it actually smelt like overbearingly sweet perfume. It was a duo, a pianist and a singer. She sang well but she was overshadowed by the floral arrangements of the pianist who was having a field day with modulations and key changes between and DURING songs like it was fucking just invented yesterday and he just discovered it. I was reminded of karaoke joints and bad singers who tweak the key changing knob during the song.

I get so pissed off when I watch insensitive musicians. If you'll take a trip down to crazy elephant at clark quay you'll know what I mean. Musicians wanking off endless solos like it was the best thing in the world and the singer usually does this awkward head nodding body swaying thing like yeah, I'm digging it but hurry up and get over it. Since when did showy technique become the pre requisite for becoming a musician? They stopped listening to each other and that to me is the most important thing in music.

When I was growing up, most of the live music that I was exposed to was my dad's. He'd play in hotels and I'll listen a bit and then run all over the hotel with my step brother. My dad was in this flamenco latin mariachi crew called Los Santos. Actually, he was Los Santos. They were actually very good and very entertaining and I'm comparing that to the state of live music now. If there is one thing that I respect my dad for, it would have been his class and professionalism when he was performing. He always looked liked he owned the stage, and he kept that off set during his hours at work.

That compared to the sinny girl lookalike yesterday with the clothes and the butterfly on her breast trying to browse the papers while she was singing a song.