I am getting back into music reviewing. Here is my music reviewing of my best band they are called Apoplysmo Neurotisees:
‘A phenomenal discharge of aural symposium, defying genre and defining vivacity in a way only the work of Proust or Van Damme could truly even hope to mitigate towards equalling’. It was the only thought that traversed its way through the canals of my mind, electro-pistons firing in unity with the literal religious experience the throng-shaped masses were currently enjoying.
‘Transcendental doesn’t cover the sheer glorious verisimilitude of these ecclesiastical showmen’ I added using my brain, because it was just the right thing for my brain to say. While I achieved a genuine state of nirvana – literally – using just my own grey matter and the snapping synapses I previously mentioned using different words because I’m so good with words, this performance of composers, instrumentalists, singers, guitar-threshers and drum-singularities devastated the very notion of notions, fundamentally altering our state of existence as we know it, as we ever have known it and forever will be, now bereft of consciousness in the new age of enlightenment.
Three miracles of harmonious discord were born, lived a life and died on stage – while some of the intellectuals and comrades in our joint aural endeavour simply could not beholden the true majesty of what was taking place to the front of their ocular cavities, many were almost sharing parity with this very writer, though none could sincerely state they had equivalence with a mind so well-trained in the epithets of our sheer unfulfilled continuation.
Subjugation, eroticism, timorous, vehemence, ostracised, neo-classical antagonism laced liberally with agnosticism. Richardson Richardson. Beef and ham.
What the life-affirming experience taught me on a purely intellectual level is that philosophical debate is a requirement of any polite discourse and the conjuration of impossible mathematical hypotheses is something no discerning user of a carbohydrate-heavy mindset could do without. Such is the musical trope of our time, such is the parlance of our very being, such is the majesty of prosodies.
Oh, there was a band too.