24 November 2006

Poacher Turned Gamekeeper

I am feeling particularly curmudgeonly today, which might have something to do with not smoking again. However…

There are some young people living in the flat downstairs. I can hear their repetitive beat music – it’s making quite an interesting ‘mash up’ – as I believe it is termed, with the Bach Harpsichord sonata I am listening to on Radio Three. They’re moving around as well – filled with the vigour of youth and hope. Probably adorning themselves with beauty products, eating fruit cereal and generally conforming to every advertising stereotype of the twenty-something urban sophisticate. Bah humbug.
I would like to storm down there and command silence. It’s eleven thirty in the morning for God sake – don’t these people have an open plan office to go to? Of course, it would mean getting dressed, having a shave and brushing my hair. I believe my position of authority would be critically diminished if I went down in my present dishevelled state – I might even get an Asbo – due to a misunderstanding, or get struck down by a lightning bolt from the Celestial Hypocrisy Gun.
I am hardly what you would call blameless in the noise generating stakes. It’s true that for many years now, my output has been a cerebral rather than physical assault on the senses…well in my humble opinion - but to be asked to ‘turn it down a bit’, by a former member of the Jesus and Mary Chain might be pushing things a bit too far - It could cause a Universe quake.
By all accounts, years in front of Vox AC30’s, and the white noise explosions of sound engineers pulling out the wrong PA plugs, should have reduced my hearing to a distant whisper - but it hasn’t. I might be showing signs of ageing in some departments…although I’m at a loss to know what they are…but the aural flapping things on the sides of the head certainly ain’t one of them.
So what to do? When I moved here a few weeks ago, I smuggled my dormant guitars and amplifiers in under cover of darkness, to avoid causing undue distress to my neighbours. Perhaps it’s time to plug them in for a little nuclear test on the border. It could be a turning point in the Generation war. They’ve got iPods, decks, and mobile phones. We ( we being the curmudgeons with too much time on their hands ) have got Marshalls, valves and fuzz pedals. Let battle commence. Come on Godfrey, stay awake.


Blogger red one said...

Just wanted to congratulate you on your fab post title "Merry War, Christmas is Over". Yes, that is from December 2004. But anyway.

Found your blog via Literary Hoax. You probably don't want to know how I came to zip straight to 2004 though...

5:19 PM  
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