here’s a beautiful poem by george korein of philadelphia (who is also responsible for my favorite post on a music forum i frequent, a story about confusing a cockatoo training tape with a newly purchased ministry tape, a hilarious mistaken framing double cassette deck mindfuck tale that i will have to quote another time. hope you enjoy the poem as much as i do.
Great music is falling out of our pockets, rolling amidst branded
napkins and fast-food containers.
When the arcade claw crane drops down the uncovered drain, it never
comes up with that great music which is never heard again.
Great music becomes a currency of curios for deaf vermin in the sewers.
Great music is whistled by the tone deaf man who heard a tone deaf man
whistle the tune he heard from the tone deaf man who heard a tone deaf
man whistle the tune he heard from the tone deaf man who heard a tone
deaf man whistle the tune he heard from a tone deaf woman humming “Ode to Joy”.
Great music is played by a man drumming two bladed spatulas into the
makings of a cheese steak on the grill.
Great music is at least 4 hours long and requires exhaustive
explorations of melismatic iterations and invocations upon epithets
until the singer falls asleep.
Good music is at least 20 years old, great music is at least 20 years
into the future.
– George Korein