I love books, art, films and well-made TV shows. I love great food and drink, sport, comedy, and, as an old mod, decent clobber.
All the above things are important to me, but I’d give them up for music at the drop of a hat. Music was my first love and I’ve been obsessed with it for as long as I can remember.
I completely understand that unless you’re lucky enough to share my obsession, you probably think I need therapy. But I know I’m not alone in my madness. In fact, I’m in fine company. Friedrich Nietzsche, one of the greatest ever philosophers, once stated: “Without music, life would be a mistake”. And if that’s a good enough for old Fred, it’s good enough for me.
I also have another passion – the 1960s. This was the swinging decade when London was the centre of the universe. The decade when we finally shook off the grey drabness of the war and woke up to a technicolour future. It was also a time of massive cultural and political change.
Among other things we had: JFK, Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement, assassinations, the moon landings, the Cuban missile crisis, The Summer of Love, Woodstock, Vietnam, The Beatles & The Stones, The British Invasion, Motown, Stax, the Great Train Robbery, the first Bond movie, Mods, Rockers, the arctic winter of ‘63… and, most importantly, I popped out!
It was an incredible period and the artistic output during those 10 short years has never been equalled. Although many legendary and ground-breaking acts have emerged throughout the succeeding years, the 1960s are unsurpassed in terms of sheer innovative brilliance. Hell, we even won the Eurovision Song Contest twice!
Now, in the 2010s, we are living in a time when social media platforms allow virtually everyone on the planet, including the administration of the most powerful nation earth, the opportunity to share their likes and dislikes, hopes and fears, prejudices and intolerances. And photos of their lunch.
These platforms also allow ME the dubious opportunity to burden the world with yet another blog. and so WITHOUT further ado I give you (drum roll, please…) The Acoustic Egg Box.
I want the AEB to be brilliant and groundbreaking and act as a shop window for my literary prowess, but it will probably just highlight my shortcomings and result in pages of unintentional comedy.
If you can, please try and ignore my many deficiencies, as the main point of The Acoustic Egg Box is to share my discoveries from the endlessly evolving realm of popular culture.
These discoveries won’t just encompass music, but other noteworthy and interesting titbits from the world of film, TV, art and literature. Be warned though, the posts may well be interspersed with my ranting observations on life’s disappointments; disappointments that usually happen to me several times a day.
As a classy and discerning bunch, you’ll probably dismiss most of my efforts as tedious dross. Your stylish, handmade, Goodyear Welted, wingtip brogues will metaphorically kick my ramblings off into the electronic ether. But I’m hoping the occasional nugget might inspire you to explore things previously unheard, unseen or unread.
For instance, you might discover a hidden penchant for the chanting of Benedictine Monks recorded in York Minster on a wet Wednesday evening. You might even stumble across the perfect song for your funeral that isn’t Robbie Williams’ “Angels”. Whatever you unearth, I hope you enjoy the journey with me.
And finally, as you sit and try to to make sense of the crazy world around you, listen to Marvin singing the title track from the greatest album ever made. Then ask yourselves the same thing that I do every evening:
“What’s Going On?”
