28.6.04 | Blackbirds and Karaoke
THis evening, i was most distressed to hear a very bad rendition of "Under the Boardwalk" (A Drifters song? I dunno... my parents have it in their record collection somewhere, i do know that). Not only that, but several other songs were also being cruelly murdered in a fit of drunken pique by my neighbours havinng a barbeque down the street in a style not seen since the last film about Hannibal Lecter ... i peered out of the window to ascertain which house this barbaric outrage was coming from... some vague idea of phoning the police, after all, surely some terrorist act was being committed in my very neighbourhood?
So i'm looking out the window, locate the source- it's gotta be Osama himself, surely? Nothing else could be that "evil", could it?... hmm apart from perhaps the sight of Tony with his tongue deeply superglued into Dubya's buttocks...and all their friends doing similar- but i'm digressing. So i'm looking out, and i gradually become aware of a blackbird sitting calmly on a telegraph pole, about 30' above the "sounds". He's a bird i'm very familiar with, although we haven't got past flirting at the bird-table over caterpillars, and he's normally singing at this time of the evening...
He's not singing now though. Oh dearie-me, no! In fact he looks distinctly unimpressed. He's just sat there, with a pained look on his beak. Indignation welling up within him, he's maintaining great self-discipline, but it's all too plain for me to see, as we're on very good terms, IE: i feed him and his missus, and He sings for me. Obviously a music lover, as all musicians are, I instinctively sense that he's wishing himself capable of wielding heavy artillery and pointing it at this black hole of talent.
And he's thinking "Well, there goes the fookin' neighbour'ood! Bastards."