On Boredom, Baubles and Music

I’m grooving to the forthcoming album from Philly folksinger Kristin Daelyn, Beyond the Break, which I plan to spotlight in the days ahead. It draws inspiration from such folk figures as John Fahey and Leo Kottke, both influential guitarists within and beyond the genre. Daelyn is a deft guitarist herself, as the set’s instrumental numbers show, while her distinct dulcet tone drifts in as if from the ether. It’s a mesmerizing storm of the soul.

What differentiates one folksong from another? One country tune from the next? Why does most of today’s rock induce me to yawn? Popular music has explored matters of the heart and loin from time immemorial, after all, while also making room for metaphysical concerns, social issues and, yes, plenty of silliness. Witty (and not so witty) wordplay and rhymes punctuate the goings-on—except, that is, when they don’t. To borrow a line from J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan, “All this has happened before, and it will all happen again.” It’s how it’s presented that makes the difference. Boredom comes not from listening to the same-old, same-old, repeated again and again and again, at least not for me, but from the reliance on proverbial mimeograph machines to crank out ever-blurrier copies of past works.

It’s the same with the arts beyond music, too. I crave originality—not necessarily in form, but substance. Thanks to the troll-in-chief, DEI initiatives are being drawn down in both the public and private sectors—and, I’d argue, he and his are also seeking to limit the diverse views and opinions that have, through the centuries, expanded the communal mindset. That’s a tangent for another time, I suppose, so let me edit what I said in the above paragraph: Boredom comes not from the same-old, same-old, repeated again and again and again, at least not for me, but from the reliance on proverbial mimeograph machines to crank out ever-blurrier copies of past works. Art without personality isn’t art. It’s boring.