Isaac Hewlings

Not content with making this comment filled with the kind of geeky music trivia that stops people from talking to me at parties, this edition I’ve decided to create an even more unholy alliance of music and internet geekery. I can at least consider myself performing a duty that most others would cringe at, returning as I do, from the deep, dark hours of Sunday morning, with the most self-obsessed, bizarre gobbets of misplaced hope ever to be scattered onto the internet. Like a messenger returning from somewhere no one really wants to go, this duty drives me on.

And just like that, I seem to have been sucked into the world of Chris Dane Owen’s musical journey that is ‘Shine On Me’. This is a trilogy of the most epic kind, (find it on Youtube) involving a healthy dose of dragons and smug-looking men in blouses, made priceless by a joyful lack of irony. One can feel one’s tongue boring through their cheek just to make up for the amount of unadulterated wistful staring and power chords. If Bryan May and Peter Jackson decided to live in a cottage in Vermont for two years, this is what they’d have made by the end of it. On the scale of geek affection, this must probably beat pirates, zombies AND ninjas. If this sounds like I’m mocking it, I’m not. If ever the phrase “I reject your reality and replace it with my own” was instantiated more honestly and innocently than this, I’ve yet to see it.

By way of contrast to this epic fantasy-quest, I feel R Kelly’s ‘Trapped In the Closet’ deserves a mention. In a similar vein to the above, this ‘hip-hopera’ (yes, it exists) is available on Youtube in as many chapters as you can bear, as powerful a testament to the force of wilful self-deception as has ever existed. ‘Trapped In the Closet’ begins with the main protagonist Sylvester (R.Kelly), waking up in a mysterious woman’s bed. Needless to say, her husband returns, informing the title of said masterpiece. If you can imagine a conversation spoken by way of imitating R.Kelly’s songs, then essentially you’ve nailed the conversational tone adopted for all 22 chapters. Such gems include, “not only is there a man in his cabinet, but the man is a midget! MIDGET! MIDGET! MIDGET!”. Clearly R.Kelly imagines a world festooned with handy hiding places (to be fair, a situation that is already the case for midgets, I suspect) for adulterous lovers. On top of the mind-bending level of absurdity, R.Kelly’s sexual exploits have all the subtlety and realism of those related to you by your fourteen year old classmate who had a ‘girlfriend in Scotland’ who you never met. Actually, that’s probably not the most absurd moment, whilst I got lost in all the opera, I forgot – R.Kelly is gansta. He draws out his piece, in what is probably the most incongruous weapons-handling moment on film since…ever. I mean, he’s got corn-rows, you know who else has those? Axl Rose. And like Axl Rose I’d be much more worried about leaving him with my kids than whatever steel he’s got in his waistband.

Now I’d better return to the foetid reaches of the internet, the sun light is starting to hurt me.

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