Feel free to skip past this one; you’ve probably seen it all before. Heck, I must’ve written it all before several times over. Should you choose to stick with this one, though, it’ll be about the nagging sensation in one’s brain that makes one question what the hell everything’s all about and why we keep doing it, working towards an unknowable future. At least, that’s what I think this may be about. We’re only a handful of lines in right now, the rest is a mystery, perfectly encapsulating the notion of working towards an unknowable future.
Yes, I know, I swore off thinking about the future a couple of weeks ago. But how was I to know then I’d question the same old shite once again? It was the past then. Old me (who, when you think about it logically, should actually be called Young me) hated the idea of forward thinking, whilst Now me completely despises it.
For lack of a better description, this seems to be my default mood setting – the one thing I fall back on when I either have little of interest to think about or little motivation to actually think. Today, I think, we’re seeing the latter. Of course I could reflect upon the one weekend away I’ve had in quite a while. I could elaborate on hotel rooms, free Wi-Fi and complimentary continental breakfasts. I could ponder the effects of alcohol and house music on today’s students versus a 26-year-old graduate. I could even lazily review the film Deadpool, referring to it as “worth the money” and little more in my current frame of mind. But aforementioned frame of mind won’t let me. It wants to talk about not talking about the future. Cos it’s a twat.
I’d like to maintain that nobody knows what they want to do when they grow up. Even people who are already grown up. In fact, by then it’s worse. People who have already grown up have more to look back on and wonder why they still haven’t figured anything out. Sure we latch onto things at various points, but generally let go of them as soon as we’ve thought of something else. Over the course of my lifetime to this point so far, I’ve wanted – at various points – to be a cartoonist, an actor, a filmmaker, a film editor, a novelist, a musician, a graphic designer, a gamer, a lover, a café owner, a radio presenter, and for one brief moment, a dragon. The fact that I am none of these things shows either my lack of commitment to the craft (most likely) or that I’m fickle and indecisive (what my brain actually tells me to shield me from the harsh truth of the former).
Living day to day without a real focus or purpose isn’t so bad, but during my time here, I’ve been subjected to the concept of advancement. Us humans don’t let go of concepts. We largely accept them as frameworks to live within, even though we’re all just tiny life forms stuck to a rock that’s perpetually falling through nothing. The universe doesn’t give a shit what a career is. Or currency. Or Hallowe’en. So why the hell do we? Would our minds completely crumble apart if the notion of using hashtags just ceased to exist? Why does mine have to keep being infected by the idea that the future exists and the stuff I do now will shape it? I only ask because the stuff I do now is not very much, and a future shaped by not very much never feels very appealing.
Enough downbeat bollocks. Read on for a hint of optimism.
Much like the music of Kate Bush, the Legend of Zelda game series and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the late-90s TV show, not the early-90s film), certain elements of popular entertainment take a while to break into my consciousness and, upon discovery, make me actually sit up and wonder how I’ve ever lasted this long without them. One such recent discovery fits into the music category.
According to various sources, Frank Turner’s background has ranged from punk to folk. Whilst I think it’s nice to mentally conjure an image of the Sex Pistols morphing into Mumford & Sons mid-career, there’s certainly something to be said for the fusion of jaunty acoustic ballads, folksy “O these English shores”-type lyrics and gruff-throated shouting. The following collection of noises comes from last year’s album Positive Songs for Negative People, which sounds more like a course of medication that I personally need to get started on as soon as possible. Sadly, that prescription only consists of twelve tracks, so there’s no guarantee my pessimism will be cured completely.
Frank Turner – Get Better
Jamie Walsh 
Leave a comment