That Which We Call Music

While in college, after the semester exams, there hung about on the corridors a heady mix of marijuana fumes and high decibel rock (and here I hasten to point out that I was and still am a teetotaler, and I don't smoke anything, even meat; I leave all that to others), I used to be convinced and kept asserting to anyone who was intoxicated enough to bother listening to me, that from what I could see, most of the greatest hits of even the most heavy metal bands, were those that were, uncharacteristically subdued considering the rest of their music. Thus, I proposed, that these songs should 'sound as sweet' no matter how little distortion guitar it featured. In fact, some of the distortion guitar was probably hurting the song. I was promptly laughed off (it may have been the cannabis) every time.

Then there is the scene at home, 'the musical capital of India', where you're never far away from someone who has a daughter or two named after their favourite Raga, all for the love of classical music. I have had to quail under their disdain for "all that western hippie music." I was never able to get through to this second version of snobs that if you have to learn and understand something to appreciate it, it sounds less like music and more like math.

The only thing that separates Roger Waters from Bach is 258 years and a wig. The only difference between Clapton and God is that Clapton would 'change the world' if he could. Long after their guitars stop playing, we'll continue to revel in the mastery of their compositions.

Little did I know until yesterday that I was vindicated on both counts, and have been for several years. Why didn't someone tell me about this?