Après moi le déluge?

Even in the absence of my last weeks column I'm strongly trying to follow my previously decided rule of posting one every Friday. Apology to those who waited for it. And I thought I'd make this one in English so my foreign friends scattered around the globe might have a chance of knowing what the hell is going on on my fakebook wall every Friday.

The title translates Next to a Note and consists of a little play of words. In Fin we have a saying to a person who cannot keep a note in singing, that they should not worry because there's still much room next to the notes. This is a weekly blog which wants to grow up as a real column one day dealing with music, popular culture and everything in the effect of them.

Mostly I blabber on for rows and rows about something you could say in two sentences. But that's not the point. The point of my writings is to have a point of view to a subject in matter. The kind of point that the readers might have never even thought to try. I mostly do not underestimate my readers. Actually vice versa. I try to challenge them by playing with words and bully their thoughts on many different levels still keeping it simple and short enough.

For example I've been writing about the kind of music that I've found all over Europe on my trips or how I try to share and exchange bands and music with the people I meet. I've been laughing at myself thinking of the old records I used to listen when I was a kid or praising this new punk band that consist of four invalid rockers. I've been moaning on the way the music business treats new starting bands or purely loving some lyrics of a few totally different kind of bands.

I tried to google translate some of the above mentioned posts to english and the results were frightening and hilarious at the same time. As if you'd try to pantomime the way a Harley Davidson engine sounds. You might get the hang of it, but miss most of the fun.

So what am I trying to say here? Convince who and to what?

The idea of music is international. Music itself could easily be not only international but even intergalactical. Some studies say that the knowledge of music is inherited in blood and the way of composing is basicly similar for human, bird and whale.

In my modest wannabe column I try to push not only the readers but also their friends and the people they interact to pay some thought to music they hear or play. If I can make you stop for a moment and realize that the bubbling feeling in your ear is actually something someone somewhere purposely composed for you to hear I've made my point. By actually stopping for awhile and listening to a familiar song you might find a new different world.

I try to change the world little by little. Planting some small ideas here and there eventually could grow up to be an actual thought. With time a thought might become action. Action creates movement. And movement is what we need. Be it a movement in a speaker cone, audience or a queue at your local record shop.

-Timmy

[This was written struggling to make a point in a foreign language]