Bucket Playlist Update— Andy Close -
It’ll come as no surprise to you, dear listener, that I’ve spent more than my fair share of hours staring into the abyss. A few months into writing for this site and I feel like I’ve also entered into an awkward, one-way, conversation with it. So, I’ve employed a team of balding, bespectacled, scientist clichés to monitor your clicks and clue me in to what directions you’re swivelling your mice in.
Obituaries apparently … and lists, lots of top ten lists. Oh, and those links that say, “YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT THIS ONCE BEAUTIFUL CELEBRITY LOOKS LIKE NOW!!!!…FUCKING REVOLTING DUDE, YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!! CLICK…..CLICK AND SEE!!!!! LOOK AT THE FUCKING TEETH ON IT!!! DON’T LOOK AWAY, DRINK IN THE DEGRADATION!!! THIS PERSON WAS BEAUTIFUL AND RICH AND NOW THEY’RE UGLY AND POOR!!! FEEL BETTER ABOUT YOUR CREDIT CARD BILL NOW?!?! THOUGHT SO!!!!!! Sounds fucking awful but I’ll play along. Christ, what have I been reduced to?…..watch how easily my flimsy, punk rock vestments fall away and gaze, horrified, upon my sell-out nipples and principle free penis. THE TOP TEN THINGS THAT KEEP MIDDLE AGED PEOPLE AWAKE AT NIGHT!!! (I’m only doing five.)
Can there be true worth in repetition when you apply it to a life? We laugh at Groundhog Day but are our existences so different? Your phone activates you at the same time every morning, you take part in similar conversations with similar exhausted faces as the dog-eared theatre set that is your life scrolls sluggishly past in the background. Your taste buds barely register the fuel you tip into your groaning hatch before your body drags you off to bed, your footfalls covering exactly the ones laid by yesterday’s ghost you. Your phone activates you at the same time every morning, you take part in similar conversations with the same exhausted faces as the dog-eared theatre set that is your life scrolls sluggishly past in the background. Your taste buds barely register the fuel you tip into your groaning hatch before your body drags you off to bed, your footfalls covering exactly the ones laid by yesterday’s ghost you. Your phone activates you at the same time every morning …
Has over indulgence made strangers of your internal organs? Do you picture them backed up against your spine and ribcage eyeing each other suspiciously, wondering which of the group is going to let the team down and stop the wet tick of that precarious soft machine that’s keeping you conscious? I realise you’re a wheatgrass shotting, vegan, black light yoga devotee now but you were still caning it eight years ago weren’t you? Do you think the damage might already have been done, a pipe come loose from your liver or some prickly, glistening material spreading through your pancreas? Probably not………but it’s something to think about isn’t it?
3. THE FUTURE
What worries you the most about the future? That justice is increasingly dependant on the contents of an individual’s bank account and social connection? That numerous extinction events are cheerfully jostling each other in the hopes of being the first one to reach us and finally put an end to our fucking nonsense? That our children’s sexual education will be delivered via a 6” screen floating inches from the end of their nose and will resemble a meat raffle that has been brought to life by a randy wizard? One of those I imagine.
Has the shit magician that is life, vanished the person that made your heart feel squeezy and then not been able to make them reappear, no matter how many times it theatrically whipped open the ornate cabinet door they initially stepped through?
Can you not find that one face that might render itself in vivid Samsung saturation whilst all others look like bleached out posters in a shoddily maintained video shop window?
Has the initial, adrenalized, flurry of rose petals settled on the ground and had the colour trodden out of them by familiarity and mild annoyance? Did you make the glorious trip up the hill of stranger, lover and partner only to plateau and tiredly start the reverse downwards journey? This shit’s difficult to maintain isn’t it?
So, when you’re lying awake tonight watching the cracks in your ceiling reconfigure themselves into the accelerating digital readout of your very own doomsday clock, pop in some earbuds and fire up our playlist. It includes guitar pop that isn’t very sure of itself, chilly drone folk, nihilistic hip hop, singer songwriters whose radiators need bleeding and hands in the air, balls/flaps to the wall dance music…..for a bit of texture.