Jogging the Synapses

I had to return a gift to the music store today after work. The dreary overcast afternoon followed me inside where I found myself surrounded by the heavy sound of anti-music blaring and tattooed help being confused about my return voucher at checkout. Zillions of new and used CD's at great prices clogged the shelves. Movies, records and who knows what else could be found. I limited myself to the Jazz section.

I was returning a new David Benoit disc that skipped and repeated on my machine. Traded it for another one of his, a Wes Montgomery and a 1989 Spiro Gyra collection, and had to fork over another $5, but it was worth it. The thing is, I'm not really a huge fan of music anymore. It comes in spurts, I guess. Right now, having been awash in Christmas music for the past four weeks, a change is good. I'll listen to the radio at work - a totally varied mix of Classic Christian, Classical, Smooth Jazz and a slight dash of Country (usually can't get through one whole song, though).

But it's the old stuff that is the best: Simon and Garfunkel, earliest Joni Mitchell, Beatles, some of the Beach Boys --- that era of real melodies, real harmonies and real words. I just can't listen to the new stuff. Sorry.