If Alex Skolnick were to be god, his ambrosia would have included a perfect assortment of notes, perfect ones, bends, hammeron's, pull-off's, tremolo's, grungy power chords, melodious jazz overtones and everything that he just comes up with in his amazing solos.
The solo in Return to Serenity is just the one I need to prove my point.
Nuff said. Let the notes do the talking.
-FIN-
Friday, October 19, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
The Shifting Seas
The society breathes in and out slowly. Much energy has been spent panting and gasping for breath over the years. In spite of the respiratory issues, the society has sung acapella, praising the glory of humans.
" Oh! greatest of the species,
My creator supreme,
You gave me much importance,
You've helped me to dream,
You built me with care,
Empowered me to dare,
Held me close to your heart,
Even in times of despair,
......"
The acapella continues, flattering humans - generations of them, for clutching society's fingers and walking it home safe.
But after every performance of this practiced ritual, when Society dragged itself along, scuffing the floors, and wearily heaving itself in the glum dingy corner, mulling over itself in silence, wondering why at all, in the first place, was it subject to such agony that it needed to be rescued time and time again, caught in the quicksand of indebtedness, sinking deeper and deeper.
Then the answer rings loud and clear, it's the humans themselves.
Bloody species. An abominable that squirms and wallows in it's own creations.
Political philosophies, contrasts of color, schism of sects believing in the omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent, inequality of social structures - the mere tip of the iceberg.
Guns, swords, jackboot heels and blood. The driving force of humans. The opium of the masses.
Heaven for some. Hell for some. Death for society.
This social revolution plays around like waves. Sometimes dancing gracefully to the charm of the moon and the astral features. Sometimes, churning from the underbelly of the ocean and turning tsunami.
We the creators and we the victims.
The acapella always ends with ringing of the death knell for Society. Sigh.
" Oh! greatest of the species,
My creator supreme,
You gave me much importance,
You've helped me to dream,
You built me with care,
Empowered me to dare,
Held me close to your heart,
Even in times of despair,
......"
The acapella continues, flattering humans - generations of them, for clutching society's fingers and walking it home safe.
But after every performance of this practiced ritual, when Society dragged itself along, scuffing the floors, and wearily heaving itself in the glum dingy corner, mulling over itself in silence, wondering why at all, in the first place, was it subject to such agony that it needed to be rescued time and time again, caught in the quicksand of indebtedness, sinking deeper and deeper.
Then the answer rings loud and clear, it's the humans themselves.
Bloody species. An abominable that squirms and wallows in it's own creations.
Political philosophies, contrasts of color, schism of sects believing in the omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent, inequality of social structures - the mere tip of the iceberg.
Guns, swords, jackboot heels and blood. The driving force of humans. The opium of the masses.
Heaven for some. Hell for some. Death for society.
This social revolution plays around like waves. Sometimes dancing gracefully to the charm of the moon and the astral features. Sometimes, churning from the underbelly of the ocean and turning tsunami.
We the creators and we the victims.
The acapella always ends with ringing of the death knell for Society. Sigh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)