Can't stop listening to the soundtrack. It's cheesy in places sure, but for some reason, that go by Tosihiko Sahasi channels the inner nerd in me. It doesn't matter what age I'll be, I revert to the drooling six year old playing with blocks, excited to pee like a big boy, and throwing anything that looks ready for a toss. This time travel is a foreign one to take but it sort of fits.
Like the same emotion, people get when you get to hum The NeverEnding Story and all of a sudden, people take one fist in the air and cry with Falcor growling with that massive glittered head.
This ship is so infantile and delusional it has to place in the wild center but hearing he harmonica on the Big O Soundtrack sort of calls to a simpler time where bills didn't turn gruesome and the sole wish was whether or not the mayonnaise would mix with the mustard improperly.
Big O is such a full story filled with a multi-layered point. It's bare and complex all at once. Who couldn't like robots walking around smashing the city up in a one glorious eye beam explosion? The soundtrack, to me, fits the climate where thinking too often is overrated and obnoxious. Sometimes, things are only what they are.
I know the climatic Star Wars jaunts the music steps into. After listening, I'm ready for very life again. This long distance trip can't ever be around forever.
It amazes me that music like this will easily obtain my soul ready for a repast of simplicity. It's like playing rock music well. Playing 3 chords in tight fashion and execution the simple well. Not sure what that way but maybe I'm just on the boundary of losing my head or thrust into a vein I've never explored. Writing forces those corners to be opened up. Writing is only bad for a writer. My inner value wants a simple time where the good guys were easily marks by banners and proper gear and the bad guys always were slow to spot. It's that Disney wish where the bad guy is bad for no tangible reason but to only be hard and a nuisance. The bad guy always walks too far into finding trouble and so gets what he deserves as if humiliation was plenty to dissuade him in the 1st place.
The light piano sort of speaks in a mere way without hitting notes. The creative mind is to publish in a way that hits the spirit like notes. Where words increase in respect and differentiate into a place that's almost "heard" by the heart. That's the idea. My brother tells me, "I don't take to take your blog. You are your blog. You know the language you write."
The language I write are what hits my brain like a snap and kind of sounds silly like the final rail on the Big O Soundtrack.
And Forever...
Sort of like Pebo Bryson and Celine Dion were transfigured into a Japanamation of early 90's easy listening goo. It always brings a smile because. "I. had. the sentence of MMYYYY LIIIFFEE. Though I never felt this way before..."
No comments:
Post a Comment