like i said before:

   i'm a sentimental schmuck...

but i've never, ever, never
heard a pop-grunge song

while, clubbing...

   say...
i can't decide between
soul asylum's song black gold

or blind melon's
song no rain

having grown up in England,
at the height of
the Brit-pop enterprise,
i wish i could have sentiments
allocated to Oasis...
or Blur...

Stone Roses... **** me...
going as far back as the Stone Roses...
sure...
Depeche Mode...
      and to an extent The Cure...

surprisingly the 80s had
very decent music,
Indie and what not...
sure... on the outside the era
looks pretty **** terrible...

but look into it...
and there's some pretty gravitas
sounds in the undercurrents
of culture...

hell, name them:
Hot Water Music,
Cage the Elephant...

               Dinosaur Jr.,
The Levelers...
                            
there was only music to begin
with,
and there will only music to
end it all...
the tirade of the angels attempting
to imitate the jazz sax
of Coltrane...
or the horn of Miles Davis...
or... for that matter...
   Chet Baker...
     white boy did goo'...
                 diddly-dotty-do...

because it's not exactly a bout of
nostalgia...
   nostalgia is a faking of
what eventually is bred by
a collective memory...

       no... i'm just a sentimental
*******...
         i've heard too much Slipknot
et al. of that era in clubs...
and Nirvana...

            so? i stopped going to clubs...
became bored ****-less
with the choice of music...

once, only once,
i danced to a DJ with some sense...
to Tool's song
stink-fist... only once,
only once... never mind...

                  and once... sometime in
Camden...
  watching a pretty girl attempt to
dance, or rather dance around
a fat boy to the song
dancing in the dark,
                   by you know who...

god... the sadness in her eyes...
she looked like an octopus
with the right count of extra limbs,
but all of them were limp...

i couldn't help her then,
i couldn't help her now...
   now... i'd love to go to a club
at night... and ease off the steam
and a stiff neck
and a stressed-firm back and
shoulder-blades...

    but the music choice?
it just started bugging me...
        there was only nostalgia...
and nothing to be said of
sentimentality...
curating the piquant
   oddities...

i guess the new mode of a DJ focus is
to combine...
music references,
with literary events,
paintings...
and what not, current movies...
i guess the new DJ outside-inside
the new public square needs
to hoard influences from
many sources...
   not music with music alone...

say...
when would you not make
the following arithmetic...

camille saint-saëns'
dance macabre,

boris grigoriev's
painting
   portrait of theater
director vsevolod meyerhold...

and the fact?
the fact that...
     either
  peter "the yorkshire ripper" sutcliffe
or...
   ian "the moors ******"
                                        brady...

requested this particular composition
to be played... while his body
was to be cremated...

whoever it was...
i'm pretty ****-sure am sure that one
of them, and if it's neither...
wanted his cremation to take
place with the dance macabre
playing in the background...

and then you look at grigoriev's
painting of meyerhold...

makes perfect sense...
    guess this makes me...

die neu platterennreiter:
                                         the new DJ.