Banjo Scene

You're right, I know--I haven't blogged for a good while.  Let me start with Saturday night.

I love music.  And many different types--they all make me feel a little bit different, all pull at separate memories or all surface new emotions.  But I'm not well into the "music scene".  You know, those underground, dark and damp hole-in-the-wall clubs where indie bands and artists alike come to preform to a relatively small, appreciative audience of care-free, anti-pop cultured, independent types that stand in the crowd with their arms crossed, shoulders slightly forward and head moving ever so cooly to the beat.  No, I'm not well into the music scene.  But I have had a many of friend who were/are.  And I've made a rather harsh assessment about such a setting--those free-spirited individuals all look, stand, talk and act exactly the same.  Many scene-kids I meet are extremely closed-minded as well.  Anything mainstream--trash.  Anything known--crap.  And yet, they strive to be at the top of "trendy" in the most alternative sense of the word.  Band guys are also some of the most insecure men I have ever met--yet the whole "I don't give anything what people think" image is practically tattooed in bold letters across their emaciated faces.  A crowd of people scoffing at "social-trend-followers" because they are not exactly like them--ironic?  

So, that was my pre-rant.  My story is more positive.  I actually went to one of these hole-in-the-wall places I "lightly" described above.  As familiar as the surrounding was, the people were actually quite unique to my previous experiences.  Instead of rebellious, darkly clad teens running amuck, the audience was comprised of stiffly casual, Banana Republic-styled adults holding wine and conversing in practical semi-circles.  What did I fall into?  CNN's version of Wonderland.  Then theses two really tatted, pierced, over-reaching "rockers" took their places in the open space where the mic's and lights were set.  A cheer.  A pause, they reach down into two black cases and pull out: Banjos.  Electric banjos. And soon the room transforms...I begin to notice little things.  The woman in front of me in the black petty coat and turtle-neck, I noticed, was wearing lime green converse.  The man next to me had a neat pony-tail, which was promptly untied by a women's caressing hands.  The couple a few tables up, hardly cordial moments before, was making out so fervently, air was deemed unnecessary.  What I am getting at is that, I sat in a room of people whom I was judging because of their un-individual, boring, and stiff appearances...exactly the same type of judgments that irks me made by "scene-kids".  And also, haven't I been judging the scenesters too?  I mean, at the end of the day, what makes a person unique or "individual" (I seem to be stuck on that word) is not how different you can dress, how rare your favorite band is, or how trendy your slave-free, silk-screened t-shirt is...I mean, even if you LIVE to be just like that person or look just like this person--you never escape you.  Who are we to judge one person, then another, when what are we really judging on?  What about ourselves?  How unoriginal is judging.  Lame.  I'm more creative than that.  I can think of something different to focus my thoughts too.  

Those two men played the banjo like there was no tomorrow.  They rocked the crammed room, loosened inhibitions, and completely mocked every stereo-type of rock-stars--talented an witty.At the end of the night, judgments had passed, and fundamentally what was left was a room of people, that, for a few short moments, were able to connect with each other on a completely un-materialistic, uncritical, level because two men were able to break from the standards of "socially acceptable", and in turn, inspired an entire room to finally become individuals!  The transformation was a miracle.  When music can do that to an audience...good or bad music, it's worth an notable mention, at least some judgmentally-schooled blog.