Seeking to ascribe meaning to music is one of man’s worst endeavors. The whole mad world of seeking deeper meaning in what is rightfully a hellish and short existence is rotten, but there’s something sick and depraved when our ancestors didn’t bother to draw the line at keeping troubadours squarely in the business of bull. If you can bust a minstrel with his own damn lute, if he’s got pinions of nerds telling him what a delightful plumage he’s got, we’re properly on the way to ruin. Maybe one day I’ll become a Salafist after all.
No Chris, no.