Olden days - the 2nd and 3rd quarters of 2008
Summer's always a bit quiet.
Just like the title says, I'll be discussing motorcycles and music - and get this - at the same time! I hope you remember my earlier topic on the emotional undercurrents regarding motorcycling... If you don't, you should read the 14.1.2008 entry 'Girly Motorcyclist' before you continue. But if you're in a hurry, don't - it's not essential. Let's focus on today's subject: what's punk and what's plain old predictable pop.
The inspiration for this writing emerged from a debate with my brother, who's now been studiously contemplating whether or not to remove the muffler from the after market exhaust he bought for his Suzuki SV650 (that's him in the photo). Right... A trivial subject for a layman - and even that is a massive understatement. Not for the bikers, it isn't. Only they can truly appreciate the low, mind-blowing hum or alternatively roaring four-cylinder whining thunder that erupts from the exhaust. And I mean it - incidentally they're the only folk who do appreciate it. I've yet to see a non-biker bystander who falls in love with those exhaust notes. Mostly they hate the noise.
The most regular of readers might know by now that I've decided to buy a motorcycle. And you should've heard already that it's going to be a BMW. Now, you'd think the maker was a triviality as well. But it isn't. Oh, no, it's everything but! I've learned that many times at my workplace. During one single shift, my superior or my workmates remind me, say, three to four times that BMW is for oldies and not for the goodies. They come to me asking, some in earnest while others purely tongue-in-cheek, why is it that a young lad would ever choose BMW voluntarily. See, the photo above shows you exactly what they think about when they hear those three letters - nothing else. Talk about lack of imagination! Again, I'd love to be the young rebel, here, enjoying the unwanted attention... But to tell you the truth, it does bug me.
This all begs for one serious question... Why are they making fun of "the youth who chose to go BMW"? Now, I know they're mostly light-hearted jests, but nonetheless it goes to show just how deep those stereotypes lie. Isn't it curious that all my young co-workers as well as school mates who are "in the know" think just like the old ones? They all think alike. All! No one dares to stick out. And now we've come to the crux of the matter. Think twice of the traditional belief (or legend) of the young rebels who are supposed to think outside the box and do things differently - those who make you ask "You can do that?" Yeah, I know!! You don't see them anymore. Everyone's bound to belong to a group that already exists. Here's a prime example: one group of drivers are hell-bent on riding beyond the law. They do think they're the real bunch of misfits and rebels... Really. For what, breaking the law? For arousing public anger? Causing real danger? Gimme a break... Well, here's what I love to do - comparing these groups to music. These rioters are obviously the worst, generic, run-of-the-mill heavy metal bands. You know, those whose only artistic ambition is to be the loudest, fastest, toughest band on the planet. When they want to out-heavy the others, they play harder. Some of them try to play even faster, now closing in on the sound barrier. Then the others start to play even harder, faster and stronger. And it all becomes a bit inconsequential. The art becomes a race. When they have nothing to say, they make a huge number of themself. Think about what's happened to mainstream rap! While you're at it, ask yourself how cool is that. :~)
Now, I'm skipping the others and jumping right into the newlyfound territory, the adventure tourers. They're not into impressing fellow bikers with their bikes, exhaust notes or apparel. Sure, their bikes look ugly, but the reason is that function rules over fashion. Well, sort of, anyway, since the functional design has become the new fashion... What can you do... So, what music are they? I mean, they look hideous, do what they want and desire to put a meaning to what they do... Maybe they even dream about making a difference? It's simple, really... They are the first punk rockers! No-nonsense is the key! Take a fresh look at what we've got, make your statement and change the world! Of course, I know I'm being a bit more than just a romantic, but you get the point, I hope. Here's what I wish to be in the future when I get a hold of my BMW F650GS... I'm only too glad Arcade Fire and Bowie played this song so I can get it all out of my system. This is exactly what I want to say to the motorcycling community and why not the rest of you: Wake Up!
SPOILER WARNING! If you've watching Life on Mars, the TV-series, please stop reading NOW! Following write-up could expose you to secrets of the storyline. And I'm sure you don't want to know just yet. So stop. Now! But if you do choose to continue reading, you'll need to put this on first. It's David Bowie and Moonage Daydream (from the '73 album The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars). Now we're set.
So, the show... It was great. Wonderful!! Simply astonishing! Heartfelt... Oh, and awe-inspiring, too! Warm and fuzzy... What's more, the final episode was so thrilling, I just had to down a pint of Karhu along the way (that's a Finnish beer, perhaps the only one in the world worth consuming, at that). Oh, and a curious thing happened! I thought I'd celebrate the event by pouring meself a proper dram of malt whisky (a pint lasts only so long)... Then, while sipping my Talisker, Sam Tyler gets into a pub and asks for a bottle of... get this, whisky! Now, what are the odds?! Oh, I know. They're British, after all. Anyway, let's see if I can make up something sensible... Come to think of it, now, the last episode is over. It just hit me. The funny thing is that I'm actually very, very happy about it. Sounds silly, perhaps, but there's a good reason. See, the ending was just so perfect. The right time, right place and right way. It's like hearing Mick Ronson's guitar solo at the end of Moonage Daydream. There's something almost simplistic about it and yet you can't hold it against it. Both were surprising and endlessly daring - I didn't expect this to happen. It wasn't too long a series, but what an impact it made! First, the moment Sam Tyler finds himself in the year 1973, I fell in love with the setting. At the same time it's escapist and still we all know it's exactly what has happened - quite possibly during the lives of ourselves or our parents, anyway. Having said that, a nice milieu alone won't carry a storyline, that's for sure, so Life On Mars had to do more.
And it did. For the first time in my life did an imaginary tale get me so thoroughly immersed. From the get-go it's quite obvious that the main character, Sam, is unwillingly becoming attached to one of his new colleagues, a Woman Detective Constable - you guessed it - Annie Cartwright. It's hard even to begin to say how much more enjoyable and lively the story gets when you actually grow fond of her, as well. I certainly did. What makes it more interesting is the fact that Sam already has a girlfriend "back at home", in the 21th century, and he doesn't want to let go of her.
The ending is something that'll make your eyes water, let me tell you, at least if you have the same kind of feelings towards Annie as Sam and I have. But I don't think it's all about love, in the end. What I think are equally important themes in the series are chance and change. Chance in a sense that Sam is brought into another time period purely by accident - a car accident, at that - and against his own will. He wants to go back - escape the time of racism, sexism and, shall we say, generosity in the legal system which he so firmly believes in - and because he can't, ends up seeing his way of life and outlook on his career as Detective Chief Inspector in a whole new light. Change seems to be difficult for Sam, even thought his earlier life in 2006 wasn't going quite the way he'd wanted. He still wanted to go back - and he does, during the final moments. He wakes up from his coma and everything seems like a bittersweet dream. Just as he sees today in a different light, so did I. It's a cold place with little of the spontaneity, kindly anarchy or passion for life of the old times. So Sam decides to throw off his life. By doing that he finds out which one of the times was the reality. And no, I won't be telling you that. :~) The world is a better place now that we have Life On Mars. Really, I mean it!
Here I am at work dreaming about going to
Whoa! It's been, what, nearly a month since my last entry. Someone could be fooled into thinking that I haven't done anything during the summer. Of course, that assessment would be a wrong one. You see, I've been at work. And then waiting for getting back to work. After a long day one must sleep, and then go to work. That's what I'm doing - otherwise it's goodbye motorcycle, goodbye motorcycle trips with my brother and friends, goodbye petrol for my car and, of course, in the future, my motorcycle. And goodbye Nikon D700 (DPReview.com preview).
I've had this constant fear of forgetting how to photograph - anything! I don't get to go to places at all, because I'm working and my brother works at a difficult shift so we don't get to see each other that much outside of work. I haven't had the chance nor the stimulus to get out there and take photographs. Take this for an example, I see a common hedgehog and I rejoice at the possibility of capturing funny shots... Only to see that I fumble with the simplest of camera controls. To add insult to injury I managed to scare the hedgehog away, as you can see. Not really National Geographic material. :~) I'm only too glad to notice that my passion for photographs (and other visual arts) hasn't gone down one bit. On the contrary, my head is full of ideas (and little strength to realize them). I've now even decided to buy three books on photography, I'll take the opportunity to do a bit of advertising: - Molly Bang, Picture This (link) I hope I'll have the time to write up brief reviews of them. It's getting late and I've got an early morning tomorrow.
What do yo do when you know you've missed a chance and there's nothing really you can do about it? You know, in real life where there's no 'restart' or 'load' options to choose from? (Man, would those come in handy! :~) Well, your best hope is to forget the whole affair, isn't it? If not, then perhaps you hope to have learned something. Chances are that you won't, but the thought is kind of reassuring. You decide that you'll 'carpe diem' next time, right? Just to make a reminder to myself for all the 'decisive moments' in the future I decided to tell you a little story... First of all, I'm sure you all know it's one of those laws of the jungle that innocent crushes come and go and very little is left to remember them by. That's human nature - no escaping the fact. I've had dozens of them during the last 24 years, to be honest, but there's one that won't go away. You see, I was at upper secondary school (at the agile but fragile age of seventeen) when we had this young substitute for an English teacher... Man, she really seemed like a tiny bit of sun having just landed on the planet. Oh yes, you could've said that she was hot and all that - and I would've agreed - but that's not exactly what I meant, at all. :~) Oh, and yeah, she lectured two courses and both times she gave me a ten - on a scale from four to ten, mind you. But that wasn't why I liked her so much... The sad ending to the story is that that's more or less all there's to it. After all, her temporary post lasted only few months. There was really nothing I could've done, I remember thinking (on a certain level of honesty I still do). Telling her about my fancy would've probably rewarded me with a sympathetic look on her face - aside from snide remarks and giggles behind my back from my friends. A year passed... Then, on one lucky day she came to our school again! I don't know why, exactly, but I presume she was after another offer of surrogacy - but it didn't matter. What mattered to me was that in a fairly crowded hall she saw me and waved with that smiley face. I mean, she remembered me and out of fourty, maybe fifty noisy youths she waved at me. Did I feel the luckiest guy in the world! Still, I only waved back at her... And then nothing. Feeling good was enough at that time, and besides, I thought it was just a stupid teenage crush. Seven years later I think it was "a bit" more than a simple affection. And how foolish I feel now! :~) I bet she wasn't older then than I am now...
I'd like to thank the nice photographer who, with |
