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I hear music in my head, all the time. It's astonishingly detailed, full orchestration, the whole deal. I call it Headbone Radio. The only drawback to it is that I'm not really in charge of what gets played, and the DJ likes to play songs over...and over...and over. You get the idea. I have discovered that I can program Headbone Radio by listening to music I actually like, so that some of it gets lodged in there, kind of like gristle in the mental musical teeth. Of course, it will be randomly interspersed with crud like the theme from the Jetsons, or some commercial jingle. Stuff crops up from, say, thirty years ago. Stuff I didn't like when I was eight. The worst Headbone Radio program I've ever endured was Duke Cuan's fault. He sang, in his angelic voice, a solid hour of bad seventies-radio stuff one night, at an event, in my hearing. HE was on Headbone Radio for days...and I really didn't need to hear "Wildfire" again. Frank, bless him, reprograms my Headbone with fun stuff like They Might Be Giants ("You're older than you've ever been, and now you're getting older....") He does it on purpose. He tries to make me happy. Then he plays the Johnny Cash CD. Ooops. So, what's playing in your headbone? Today's book: The Stress of Her Regard by Tim Powers: Romantic poets (byronkeatsnshelley)and vampires. (Thanks, Corby!) Today's song, currently playing on HBR: Hijo de la Luna, Mecano: gorgeous song about a woman who loves the moon. In Espanol. |
 
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Headbone Radio