FLIGHT FRIGHT

So look.

I promised myself when I started this weblog (way back in ’74) that it wouldn’t be about me. This guy. What the crap do I have to offer you, dear reader, other than perhaps a glimpse into the music world I so dearly treasure. Thus, the mainly musical offerings so far.

That aside, this next album connects to my being in a very particular way.

Stand by - soul doors opening…

I have an unqualified, illogical fear of flight.

Airplanes.

Yes. Airplanes scare me shitless.

I understand the physics – drag, lift, etc. – but for some odd reason I can’t get by the fact that we are fucking floating on invisible fucking nothingness 30,000 ft. above a violent range of fucking snowcapped fucking mountains! What? How can this be? I’m looking out the window across some bald guy drooling on himself and wonder when he’s going to stand up in a fit of unwarranted rage and yank the HUGE lever (why does it have to be so damn big? Do crazies need a fucking invite like that?) on the emergency exit door thus sucking me and my unsuspecting coach jockeys out into the wild blue fucking yonder!

Whoa.

Clearly I have a slight problem. Good thing I picked a career that only flies me around the world 400 times a year or so. Once again…nice work self-defeating moron.

Despite the above, there has been some headway. And, as most respite arrives in my life, it comes in the form of music.

For some odd reason, combined with a blatant disregard for both FAA regulations and repeated flight attendant flogging, I must take off while listening to music.

One song specifically – Laila, Pt. 2 by Agitation Free.

I develop rules that, however illogical, when proven to work once, must be instituted as a universal. This is now a rule. I haven’t crashed yet, and the past 6 flights – some over 15 hours long – have all started with Laila, Pt. 2.

There is something within this song. Something intrinsically laced within its consistently upward bouncing bassline, its flittering guitar solos doused in celebration, and the popping progress of the snare. When it kicks in at a about 1:30 I am temporarily free of fear. Flight is now something straight out of the 60s...a yellowy party in the sky with cold beverages, luxurious meals and sexy stewardesses.

It is no longer the moments before a life-changing disaster, but instead the birth of an adventure whose memory will rival any of those life long.

This song does that. Quite a radical shift from my fears detailed above, wouldn't you say?

Mechanical failure.
Terrorism.
Pilot error.
Suicidal flight attendant.
Psycho drooling bald man.

They melt into introspective delight.

AH!
Song’s ending!
Quick - Restart it!

Anyway…here is the album within which the song that makes flight possible resides.

First Communication also kicks ass.

Enjoy.

http://rapidshare.com/files/142189799/2nd.zip.html