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Thursday, August 21, 2003

Rosy don't cry!

People who know how shy I appear would probably be surprised to know that one of my biggest ambitions is to be in band. Just imagine it: Sitting on a stage, with guitar in hand, singing to a roomful of strangers wide-eyed and excited.
It would give you the license to be melancholy without overtly depressing. To truthfully tell a story without leaving the listener devoid of hope as you carefully weave a happy tune into a sad story. To make people dance, but with the same song to make people cry.

But although I dream of being in a band and making it big I think its time to accept that I’m destined to be a one “hit” wonder. Nothing will ever compare to my tragic song about my guineapig Rosy. It was a masterpiece. It would have moved even the most macho of men to tears. Well who wouldn’t be moved by the story of a lone mother’s struggle as husband, who got her pregnant, moved to another cage?

Well actually everyone I ever played the song to.

The philistines just didn’t appreciate true greatness. Its time that I resigned myself to the fact that the world isn’t ready for the song writing talents. The likes Stuart Murdoch or Gordon McIntyre would only feel intermediated by my superior talents, and that would be a shame, because I have to admit they are pretty good too.

So unless, anyone in a band is looking for a girl with a quiet voice, who plays the guitar badly, and the cello only a little bit better, and whose main talent lies in writing songs about guineapigs, I shall retire from the music scene (for now) gracefully.

One day the world will mourn for my lost talent.

Posted by Rachel