The Dark Prince

There are times in life when you really want to murder people, and there are times in life where you just sigh and accept the fact that most people you will meet, or not meet, are irritating, stupid and utterly without redeeming features. I have had one of these times recently.

Now, for those of you getting either interested, or possibly aggressive at the title of this rather delayed entry, this entry is not about Radiohead. While I am forced to begrudgingly admit, Radiohead is indeed quite a good band. They seem to always find new directions to take musically, each album is a different style and form and usually worth listening to because it seems to be carefully made. Yes, they are a tad pretentious, occasionally a track or two is complete garbage due to inflated egos, but for most of the time, it’s not low grade. However, most people who listen to radio head are irritating, stupid and utterly without redeeming features.

The minor amounts of ego that are laced throughout the works seem to be the centre of the majority of radiohead fans. They simply ooze superiority because of their superior listening choice, looking down on anyone who is simply not as cool as them, and generally showing the world how amazing they are. Needless to say, this has been noted by many and they of the flock, and unfortunately the band that caused it, have attained a reputation that is more than a tad unflattering.

What am I talking about? Well, a while back, I was on a tram. A stupid mistake, I admit, trams are bad places with absolute nut-jobs around every corner, and possibly the slowest form of transport known to man, but I was on one nonetheless. Right, so we’ve established a location, the time is late afternoon, and opposite me is a very very crazy woman chatting away to herself in jibberishly disjointed sentences: random accusations of the world in general mixed with office talk, greetings and farewells with little regard for chronology.

So, this is about normal for a tram and I just hope that my time has not come to be offloaded with the loony when I notice the guy next to me is writing down everything she says. I admit, I found this incredibly humerous and more than a little cruel, so I lightly smile and just watch it all happen. Soon enough, the babbling brook drifts off to somewhere else and I ask the guy what’s going on. He starts telling me how he wants to get as many of these sentences as possible, he wants to make a song out of them, (if you listened closely you could probably hear the notches rapidly falling in my head), so, feigning interest and maybe even giving the chance to write a song about his words, I wonder who would listen to such garbage and why anyone would consider it a genuine musical possibility. I ask quite simply,
“So, what is the backing going to be, a sort of sombre funk?”, and the guy gives the answer that immediately identifies him and strengthens an already strongly negative stereotype:
“…Meets Radiohead”.