The way music produces ecstasy & make us have fun in plethoric market society: Lenny Kravitz

The way we feel and have fun with music in pletoric market society is determined by a fundamental ambiguity caused by our loss of innoncence and some big people's amabition to be always on top. Now that the musical reality has become a part of the mass culture industry and a world of profits, we, who we need to express and to feel, to dance and to believe, to sing and to feel happiness, suffer the consecuences of this changing world. Every gap is full. There's no space that culture industry hasn't colonized or won't do. Example: 'It is time for a Love Revolution' by Lenny Kravitz. How are we supposed to believe in a lover revolution or whatever? These kind of dreams died at May '68 with our renewed innocence. This album suffer in a particular deep way the fundamental amibguity of our time: could be just another fake to steal your money and creativity, your free time and your desires of change, could be a starting point for what?

C'mon Lenny, get retired. This album sucks...

Hope: No matter how hard the culture industry tries, the destiny of the world will always be on humankind's hands and, above all, the destiny of our own lifes, in our own hands, not in anybody else... even is he or she is the most appalling singer, the most gorgeous actor or actres, the most maquevelious politician or the silliest sport star.

The way music produces ecstasy & make us have fun in pletoric society market: Akon

Bad boys, bad boys (watcha wanna do...), muscles, muscles, proud, guns, cocaine & drugs, get rich or dying, gorgeous girls, $$$, luxure cars, gold chains, fucking wide trousers, diamonds, teeth diamonds, diamond on ears, diamonds on watches, diamonds on noses, rap, hip&hop, r&B, house, a film, his own trademark, an emporio, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, always the same... Every week a new black singer publish one master hit all over the planet. No matter if it's winter or summer, spring or autumn, THEY, those who made us, who plan the pletoric market society market every year for the BIG BOSSES, the black hands in the cash machine, the ones whco try to steal your money, your free time, your freedom, your personality, your soul, your heart, even your thoughts making you buy, making you pay, making you work on stupid jobs so you can afford things then, so yu can ha ve a pletoric life among things. It' all about the money and our freedom and the dialectics of the pletoric market.

Example: Akon. From that smart and deep 'Lonely' hit to this shit:

oh, yeah it's all about your money, your freedom, your desires, the thing to steal your desires, your dreams, your future moments of hapiness and turn them into an action to the cash machine. Black hands are waiting: C'mon buy that Vueling flight ticket to Barcelona, Ibiza, Malta, wherever... work hard so then you can spend your money on parties full of sexy people and if you wanna be on top, be a sexy bitch and a mother fucker guy and don't care about anybody else and forget about the people who are screaming under your foot. Dance motherfucker!! dance sexy bitch!! Just dance...

p.d. Fortunately, everything is not lost. The pletoric society market creates its own 'consolationae'. Somebody wiil have to clean all this rubbish:

Confessions: bye, bye, liefje

Cuando el avión tome suelo mañana en El prat, todo habrá acabado. Mijn liefje, mi cielo, cariño... the only one, the one who used to be my only one... Pondrás la puntita de tu pie derecho en el suelo al salir del avión y tu loca cabecita ya habrá decidido el camino a seguir, el que lleva hasta tu casa, a tu vida organizada, a tus días cómodos y no llamarás más o pensarás en llamar y lo harás y sé lo que dirás... Ok, go on, get married! Marry him... y yo me quedaré con tu máscara...

Antes me preguntaba qué haría yo con todos aquellos buenos días y los recuerdos y los besos y las caricias y los momentos, qué haría con los días en Asturias, con Roma, con Amsterdam, con tu casa en Breda, el cariño de tus padres y de tu hermanita, aquel triángulo con mi ahijada, el cariño de los míos hacia ti y todas las esperanzas que se habían abrazado... Sí, lo sé, pasado... pero el pasado forma parte del presente y cada uno de los instantes anteriores de nuestra vida puede alcanzarnos ahora. Fue duro encauzar todo esto y sí, me ha superado, pero de todas las posibilidades que contemplaba ante mí (un abanico de unas veinte) esta fue la única que se me acercó por la espalda...

Adelante, cásate, haz dinero, compra una casa más grande, ten niños: los nuestros estarán corriendo por mi memoria (una Lois pequeñita...) en una casa que no llegará a existir. Cásate, emociónate, sé feliz, amárgate, confórmate... Oh, Dios sabe... antes era verdad... fue verdad: I bleed myself dry for you ('Yellow', Coldplay)... No dudo en que para mí eras más preciada que la mismísima Kate Moss (oh, lieftje, you were my cocaine) pero estás, en otro sentido, tan loca como ella. Tu mente juega unos juegos mentales atroces para cualquiera... and you were all the time crazy and I didnt' like that ('Hard to live in the city', Albert Hammond jr)

...Y ahora todo se acabó y tú lo sabes y yo lo sé... y ahora todos lo saben. Qué circo...

πολις: Hard to live in the city

Today was a perfect day until lunch time: connected to the world through Facebook since early in the morning, listening to my favourite songs nowadays, having meaningful thoughts, thinking about plans and travelling, I made some bussiness and then took a swim in the pool before eating... but then I went down to the city to do the shopping and to buy the Barcelona's Lonley Planet guide. I was going to approach the cash desk when a I saw a really long queue and a precious girl (green eyes, light brown hair, BCN- Kate Moss style...) behind me. I asked her: 'Only one queue for the two cash desks?' She replied: 'Yes, I think so...' So I stood up behind her looking at her gorgeous tattoo on her well tanned shoulder going down her sexy left arm while she was looking at me out of the corner of her green bright eye (where do girls learn this skill?) and we both noticed some connection among us... When I was about to say something to her, the queue became shorter and we both have to pay: me to the left cash desk; her, to the right one. As I was trying to find my credit card, I was thinking: "When I pay this, I'll ask her for a cash machine from La Caixa so we can begin a conversation..." but then the paying machine was slow and I spent too many time so she went away downstairs... I signed the bill and went quickly downstairs. Four or five people among us, I could see her going outside the building. Here you are! So I went outside trying to be calm to say "Excuse me, can you help me..." but she has vanished. I looked right, I looked left... Where was she? Barcelona is not Oviedo and the streets were crowded at 6pm. Impossible to find her. Maybe I won't see her again. And here comes the reflexion: why all the (American) bad movies insist in the old myth of the Boy & Girl destined to each other? Most of the films you know from the beggining that the Boy is going to kiss the Girl at the end or the Girl is going to get the boy he is in love with. It's like if God wrote the script when we all know there are no gods any more among us. However, there is a <> (in Nietzsche-Foucault sense) explanation about this: this magical story used to happen in small villages in the past when the four of five young boys met the three or two girls of the village at the summer celebration after the harvest was already finished (then they made love; then they got married, then they spent the rest of their lives in the same boring village...). As times passed by this myth turned into the story of the girl who lives next door or the girl who is new in town. However, this has nothing to do with reality. In a film nobody dissappered and if he/she does, it's just a moment of tension until the reapperance... Again God or deus ex machina in the script. In real life girls hardly never come or they just vanished. However, this gorgeous girl was buying "Underworld" on DVD so that's was a good reason not to meet her and talk... but she was so beautiful, and she looked at me as if she hadn't looked at anybody like this for some time...

The way music produces ecstasy & make us have fun in plethoric market society: Sexy Sushi

Como perros... oh, oui, oui, fucking bitch, fucking bitch... sexy sushi, sexy shusi....

Marre, marre, marre (while all the starving people pass away around the planet)

Literatura en la era de la industria cultural de masas: V. Nabokov

“…Para mí, una obra de ficción sólo existe en la medida en que me proporciona lo que llamaré lisa y llanamente placer estético, es decir, la sensación de que es algo, en algún lugar, relacionado con otros estados de ser en que el arte (curiosidad, ternura, bondad, éxtasis) es la norma. Todo lo demás es hojarasca tamática o lo que algunos llaman la literatura de Ideas…”

V. Nabokov

Almost everyone knows what is the meaning of 'lolita' and some millions of people all over the world have seen one of the two films (S. Kubrick, 1962; A. Lyne, 1997) based V. Nabokov's 'book Some of them has an idea of the novel beacuse they have read it (completely or not) or they have been told about them. However, quite a few know this "rubí" of Universal Literature as deep as being able to explain what Nabokov had in mind when he wrote it. Refering his own book, Mr. Nabokov wrote some of the most beautiful words refered to a work of art with the shape of a novel. He said that 'Lolita' was like a presence over his house in a sunny and warm summer afternoon and that he hadn't read it many times after its succesful publication. I have read 'Lolita' 4 or 5 times as its world wasn't, wheter fortunately or unfortuntely, in my mind. For me 'Lolita' is ART with capital letters. This book is passion for art and for literature, which in the end means passion for life and love. 'Lolita' knocked me down the first time, broke my soul the second time, made me think a lot about the relations among life, art and moral the third time and everytime I read it again or just took a look at some pages, small diamonds (those "divine details" that Nabokov love as the most preciuos thing in life) came to my hands. It's a never ending source of pleasure. So please, in this era of mass culture industry, read it. It's long, complex and hard, it will take you a long time and you might have to read it twice, even three times to get a deep meaning. However, you know the Greek proverb "Beauty things are hard".

My next aim: reading 'Ada or Ardor' in English (nearly 500 pages of complex delicatessen)

The way music express our pain in plethoric market society: Radiohead

I've just listened carefully from 'Pablo Honey' and 'The Bends' to 'Kid A' album but I can understand why Haruki Murakami explained on an interview that he listened to Radiohead as if he was listening to an opera of the sounds of the modern world. I just want to enjoy 'Amnesiac', 'Hail to the thief' and 'In rainbows' only when I wiil be ready, in the mood for it and trying to experience as deep as I could at that moment these unique diamonds.

As Radiohead's music reflect the pain of the world we live in, the contradictions of modern life, love and the rest of human feelings, as they are completely coinciuos of the pletoric market society we all live in, naming it the best independent band world in the history of modern music, like many critics do, is not a 'frivolité'. Modern life reflects on their sounds and the pain of the world changes and comes along with their music. Their songs become a true part of the souls of those who can appreciate its beauty and the pain turns into some kind of grace so we can feel beautiful and saved, for a moment...

Martin Amis y la crematística (el arte de hacer riquezas)

Martin Amis, uno de los diez escritores imprescindibles de nuestros días. Sueldo anual: 80.000 libras (unos 92.000€). Caché: 3.000 £/hora. La primera noticia que tuve de él fue en Londres en 2004. Compré la edición original inglesa en tapa dura de 'Lolita' de V. Nabokov en Everyman's y el prologuista era un tal M. Amis. Sus libros reflejan la vida moderna sin renunciar al intento por escribir una novela que prolongue la literatura clásica anglosajona. A su lado I. Welsh parece que se limita a emborronar cuartillas. Si lo lees y luego sigues con M. Houellebecq, entiendes quién posee un talento superior y quién no. Mr. Amis no vive el espíritu dominante de nuestra época: no renuncia a su arte pero se forra.

The way music express our pain in plethoric market society: MGMT

Una joyita de ahora. Un álbum heterogéneo, bordenado los cauces, pero compacto, redondo. Magia compleja que estalla en fogonazos de factura impecable como "Kids" o "Time to pretend". Suena a Prince, suena a Beck, suena a disco cool pero también a macrofestival de pop-rock. Un nuevo camino mirando hacia atrás. Y he aquí el problema: un nuevo hippisimo de corte manufacturado listo para el consumo de las masas y del individuo. Esos mechones tan bien arreglados, esa pintura en la cara, ese abigarramiento de colores y prendas tan bien escogidas, los deshilvanados tan perfectos... me ponen enfermo. Qué razón tenía Houellebecq en aquellas páginas de Plataforma

La experiencia final no podría ser otra: