There is no future in england's dreaming

I tried listening to some new music last night based on my cousin’s recommendation; suffice to say I wasn’t much moved. I could see why my wee cousin could like Florence and the Machine, the band has a very polished sound, is mostly inoffensive, and the singer has a very good voice. I acknowledge that all those things exist and on paper I should like it, but the songs she recommended just didn’t make me want to dig deeper into this bands catalogue. I found the music to be oddly sterile and passionless, and while the singer has a great voice it is mostly bombast and I find that a real chore to listen to.
The funny thing about music, specifically trying new music, is that we as listeners rarely want to try something genuinely new. We are trying to recapture that sense of discovery and joy that we first had when we first became serious about music. I remember the moment when I fell for a sound; I was a sophomore in high school and had joined that BMG music club. Up until then I had been really finicky in my tastes, limiting myself to Disney soundtracks and Beatles greatest hits albums; but I wanted to try something new and I joined with the intent to find something that would inspire me. Like so many kids have done before I ordered the first four Led Zeppelin albums, and eagerly waited for the package to arrive. Hearing the bass line to dazed and confused was a revelation, the song was charged with equal parts menace and sexuality, amplified at the moment when Robert Plant begins to wail. This was the moment when I discovered the wonders of modern music. I had a friend at Publix who started recommending other bands once I started talking up how great the lemon song was. She let me borrow a pink Floyd box set, the band, Mountain, Cream, Black Sabbath, all the sort of things she thought I would be interested in and nudged me towards the blues. My tastes are still defined by a sort of blues inspired hard rock, although I have discovered I enjoyed some post punk bands my tastes are still defined by what I heard years ago. As much as I want to try something “new” it will always have to compete with that wondrous sensation that was generated when a 16 year old discovered four musicians at their peak musical prowess mining old blues standards.
That is the magic of music, and we spend a lifetime trying to find that fleeting sweet spot. The last time I felt excited about a song was in 2006 when I discovered that Keith Richards had written one of the most delicate pieces of pop music ever recorded with She’s a Rainbow. I’ve been looking for a musical revelation like that ever since then, and while I am suspect of my cousin’s taste it is nice to think that she is trying to share the things that excite her. I’m cynical and world weary, but music takes me back to when I was a pimply faced straight A student who still saw all the possibilities life had to offer.