New Music!

Hey!  Check out my new songs on iTunes:

“We Came Together”

“Space Blues”

Lyrics and music by me: Dr Dave Fekete

Jazzy, bluesy ballades.  Authentic sound–all recorded on Logic Pro X, but with a nearly studio sound.  Only .99 each.  Enjoy!

Criticism: Only Sophisticated Opinion

Of course the things that I like are better than the things that other people like.  I can bring intelligence and learning to support my likes and show why they are better than what other people like.  That is the way of the critic.  But for all the presumption of criticism, the reasons critics adduce for the arts they approve of are dressed up opinion.

Lately nihilism is en vogue.  “Moonlight” and “Manchester by the Sea” are examples.  This is because intelligent people today fancy themselves quasi existentialists and emulate Kierkegaard but without God.  Everything is meaningless and human effort is doomed to failure.  So they will come up with sophisticated reasons why art that favours this world view (their world view) is good.  I’ve been to Manchester, Mass.  I went there because Singing Beach is there and it is a beautiful beach and a solace from the frenetic pace of Boston.  Manchester is a place of peace, not a symbol for quasi existentialism.  My Manchester by the Sea and everything it means to me is as sophisticated as the Academy Award winning movie and everything it stands for.

We all have our likes and dislikes.  In school, they taught me “appreciation” for things I didn’t understand.  And to a large extent, they succeeded.  I now can appreciate things I didn’t like that much, before.  This has made my world expand and I am richer for it.  And the habit I acquired of appreciation continues.  There are certain arts I don’t like and I don’t bother with trying to appreciate.  And I think that this is a character defect in me.  But I can appreciate the fact that others appreciate those arts.  When I was younger, I would try to convince others that the arts they like, but I don’t, are inferior arts.  Now I affirm the likes of others.  That I may not like those arts is to my detriment.  But to assault the likes of others is mean spirited.

This isn’t relativism.  I remain true to my personal likes and dislikes.  Affirming that others have personal likes isn’t me liking those arts.  I still have reasons why I like the things I like, and reasons for the things I don’t like.  I will express my reasons, if asked.  But it all really comes down to, “I like this or that,–you like this or that.”  Live and let live.  I think that’s what an honest, and humble (remember that word?) critic would admit.

The Computer

The computer tracks the pizzas I order

The computer knows where I live

The computer follows all the places I visit

The computer installs updates I don’t want

The computer forces new OS’s on me

Who turned computer programmers loose on us?

Home Is a Mental Construct

The band cost me a tear

They were from home

Brought up a memory of home

I have no home

Only a memory

A memory of friends

Former friends

Home is a memory

A mental construct

 

I went back

Encountered a memory

But was only a visitor

An emotional tourist

The faces I used to know

Who knew me

Knew me no more

My memory encountered strangers

Startling, sad strangers

Home is a memory

A mental construct

 

And yet

 

I wasn’t happy at home

Day after day stretched out my misery

Stagnation and stupefaction and boredom

And friends,–the faces

Faces I encountered again and again and again

And that counts for something

That counts

 

This all I forget

When I miss my home

Home is a filtered memory

A mental construct

 

Strange Conversation in a Music Store

“Man, did I get wasted last night!”

“I was listening to a sensitive performance of Beethoven’s 6th Symphony on the radio.  It really moved me.”

“I was doing V.O. shots.  And reds.  Man, did I get wasted.”

“I’ve been practicing Bach’s D Minor Toccata and Fugue when there aren’t any customers.  I can play the Toccata though, but I’m only beginning the Fugue.”

“I was beyond high.  I was WAS-TED!”

“The keyboard is the most graphic representation of music of any instrument.  All the tonal relationships are there in the keys, visibly.”

His interlocutor shook his head, “Say what?!  So do you want to go into the stock room and get high?”

“Doesn’t it make you paranoid to deal with the public when you’re high?”

“No.  Because you know you’re high and they know you’re high and you sell them organs.”

“OK.”

Perpetual Spring

As I age, the world ages with me

As it always has

Things I treasure go out of style

Live music, blues, jazz, the symphony

Peace and love

Mozart went out of style

And nobody knows where he is buried

Who performed for princes, kings, queens

High art, technique, form fail

Churches dwindle, consolidate, close

Zoroaster, Moses, Jesus shrugged off

They follow Zeus, Apollo, Heracles

 

There is no perpetual spring

There follows summer, autumn, winter, and spring again

As I autumn, I can’t see spring again

No, I don’t see spring

I will be leaving this world

And I look toward another

And as my world dies, perhaps it is well that I also with it

I think less of my legacy than I do my potential

In my autumn I see perpetual springtime

The Footfall

I have lost and been broken

In brokenness, I am humble

I have won and been elated

In elation, I know pride

Knowing extremes, I walk a measured pace

In full awareness that pride posits humility

 

A bowed tree will never right

The sky will never ground

I walk a middle way

Clouds are more or less fog

In brokenness I see pride

In elation, humility

And neither really matters in the long run

 

The page my pen darkens

How my face meets the face of the other

The soul of a heart that touches

The footfall placed in front of another

The planet’s ambulant circuity

The galaxy’s aeonic spiral

The electron’s quantum shell

Measure time and times and half a time

All I really know is the footfall placed in front of another

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