More music

I have listened to the second CD I picked up recently at a Little Free Library (see blog post from Aug. 2).  This one was 2 tracks each by 6 Seattle punk groups.

I really put some effort into listening to the music, listening for the lyrics, trying to hear the emotion under and inside each song.  I don't want to be an old granny who dismisses current music styles, who says "It's too loud and I can't understand the words", as so many people did in the early years of rock 'n' roll.

A couple of the numbers on this disc were more fully instrumented than I expected, meaning they used horns; most of the songs used amped guitars and pounding drums only.  I could make out the lyrics on a few of the cuts; the others sounded garbled to my ears.  Which is a long way to say "It was too loud and I couldn't understand the words."

I think it's safe to admit that I don't care for punk rock.  It's harsh.  I believe it's meant to be harsh.  I believe it is meant to be hard to listen to, or at least hard for people like me to listen to.  After all, the composters, musicians, and singers call themselves punks.  To them, I'm probably a dismissible old lady who doesn't count, who has little to offer, who doesn't understand them.  To me, they are young folk working very hard to express themselves, express their anger at people like me, who have left them a poisoned world filled with a few uber-Haves and a preponderance of Have Nots, like themselves. 

I gave it a try, and I heard more than expected, but it's just not for me.  On we go.