A musical fantasy
I have been thinking for a while (and don’t be naughty now, we without too much pigment in the hair, we do that sometimes too) whether it is “politically correct” in a magazine that by its very name has defined itself as a stage of pleasure for all of a kind to say that you do not like something. If you are self-proclaimed or even hedonist by social recognition, can you allow your self not looking forward to something that does not have in itself the sign of suffering and pain (sorry for the example to those who love them the most)? Can and should there be a reason to be cheerful at every moment in life, and is there any sense to fight the intuitive negative reactions to people and natural phenomena? If every day on Earth is a gift, why we don’t always open the colorful paper with equal excitement and anticipation?
Let’s say I don’t like autumn (to be honest, not as much as I don’t like winter, but I could live without it). I know all those stories about the color of nature, the richness of fruits, blah blah. The first thing that comes to my mind when the summer is coming to an end is that temperatures will drop below 25 degrees, which is awful, and in seasons like this, it is a special trauma. I managed to take two poor and miserable weeks of vacation just when it was more appropriate to be on the beach in a raincoat than in a bikini. I spent the whole 10 days on the South Dalmatian island in the middle of the season in jeans and sweaters. I don’t even want to remember that. And now comes a whole season like this!
Knowing my fall blues (because it is a congenital, not acquired disease), I regularly come up with tricks to ignore it as successfully as possible. Typical laconic attempts in this regard include self-prescribed chromotherapy, which aims to extend summer psychologically by living in bright colors. With that intention in mind, I bought rubber boots with a leopard pattern and a coat so yellow that even the sun makes feel uncomfortable, but I have to note with regret that they have a more positive effect on random passers-by than on myself. It is a lot more successful idea to put some travel into the gray reality. First and foremost, I regularly choose food-oriented trips to Istria that delight me without mistake, and their effect is prolonged by always bringing something nice, edible, and drinkable at home. A thumbs up also for a weekend at the seaside provided that upon leaving the St. Rok’s tunnel, a completely different meteorological dimension opens to me than the one I left at home. However, when the moisture already seriously drawn into the bone, salvation is in destinations that are a little harder to reach by car. This year, I see myself compensating for the lack of insolation at home by lounging under the hot Egyptian sky.
But there is a reason why, quite atypically, this fall I am particularly looking forward to the end of spring. Unlike the ones I mentioned earlier, it is musical. I love music and, except in rare situations when I’m saturated (which certainly falls on the list of job risks I do), there is always something playing in my living space. Most of the time it’s about the radio. Partly because I’m lazy to charge those little portable gadgets that allow anyone to be their DJ, and sometimes I like to be surprised by other people’s musical choices.
My notes tend to range from classic through mainstream pop to hard rock and alternative expressions, so most of those who sit with me in the car (which is the only place I listen to music from a CD) mostly survive travel without visible psychological trauma. Among my sound carriers, can be found both old and new, as well as domestic and foreign authors, but one thing is still missing – recordings of concerts. I don’t know why, but I’ve never really liked the live versions. As much as I enjoyed the performances of my favorite artists, I rarely presuppose the same soundtracks for the studio versions.
Before I got a little lazy (or only slightly aged), I was capable of seriously spin an odometer to found myself in the screaming crowd. It is always hard for me to single out “my favorite 3, 5… or whatever”, whether it’s music, movie, or books. But in the top of the best, live music experiences are Pink Floyd in Wiener Neustadt (legendary band on the last tour), Muse in Zagreb (for the last ten years they have been my favorite band), and Robbie Wiliams in Milan (crazy end to an unusual summer). I watched and listened to Sting, Springsteen, Cave, Madonna, and many other greatest names, and at some point, realized that I had just one more unfulfilled concert desire.
The general opinion is that I have some witchcraft skills, but unfortunately, I usually smell events with negative signs. That’s why I didn’t know if the world would go to hell or if my nose would grow a big hairy nipple. But one positive vision, my ultimate musical fantasy, was waiting for realization. George Michael with an orchestra worthy of his voice! In a suit, of course. Moreover, in Croatia. I’ve purchased the thickets (seventh row!) on the first day they went on sale. The musical fantasy became a reality, a real pleasure!
TEXT – Barbara Kolar