Posts tagged P.O.S.

I am soooo bored by all this contemporary music that I’m supposed to love. I have been for years. And it’s not like all these new precious indie rock darlings (who often hail from only a few stops north on the G line) are making some sort of crazy loud rock music that my aging and failing ears can’t make any sense of.

If only that were the case.

Unfortunately, the truth is simply this: most musicians today are just shitty unambitious blobs who no longer know what good music is. (There are, of course, exceptions!) Most bands today are so scared of putting their neck out there, that they have retreated into the turtle shell of experimental electronics or wrap themselves into the cocoon of irony. Which is smart because if you ever failed, how would anybody know!? The only problem with that is that, in the end, they say nothing of note and add little of value. There is no sense of danger in the waters and the boat remains steady and unrocked.

Leaving the unmusical, but blog-capable to complain of boredom.

Up to a few years ago I would go to see live music several times a week, even then there were too many bands still biting the Radiohead template from a dozen years ago (complete with navel gazing soprano crooning that should only be attempted with the utmost hesitation). Often they would simply tweak it with some sort of retro fetish and called it a day. Very boring! Not to mention unambitious. Of course, the other variety was the people who just forgoed Radiohead and just mainlined the retro (many loved it, I was still bored).

That was why I was glad to come across Minneapolis’ P.O.S. a few months back (admittedly late to the bus—often I am the cultural Rerun in the opener for “What’s Happening!!”). P.O.S. offered me a listening experience I hadn’t had in a long time: the sense of being intrigued with something I didn’t like at first. At first, this churning gumbo of punk, hip-hop, and electronics sounded like little more than a torrent of blips, drums, and words. But I still sensed this undefinable inkling of humanity underneath the sonic scribble-scrabble.

So, I kept listening.(Props to the Lala).

It’s been a while since I’ve felt challenged by music. I find myself winning in that relationship all to easily. It reminds me of when I first heard Fugazi back in high school. I just could not comprehend this discordant, feedback-drenched ruckus. But I just had a feeling that there was a there there. (In the past I have admittedly traveled down what I thought were intriguing new avenues, only to discover I was on a Cul-de-sac.) So, as a sexually-frustrated acne-ridden teen with really nothing to better to do, I kept the “Repeater” album in my walkman (It was the late 90s, but for my mobile music needs, my primary mode was still cassettes recorded from CDs). And then, it all just kind of clicked.

So I kept with Pissed-Off Steph (which, among other things, is what P.O.S. stands for), until after a few listens *click* I was finally able to decipher the secret message. I got it. I was a winner at the game of music!

Thank you music, for giving a 30-year-old a piece of that old magic of discovering something new. It’s just like being in high school again. Except without all the sexual frustration. That is something you are free to keep and dispose with as you will.