Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts

Monday, December 10, 2012

Lana Del Rey -- Newest Inspiration

It seems that at some point throughout life, everyone is faced with the question, "Who inspires you?" -- whether that be by a potential employer, a family member or even yourself.

To some an idol has been identified since day one: "I've watched Oprah every weekday since I was four!"  To some inspiration varies depending on the situation: "I want to be Kendall Jenner when I grow up. Did you know her dad was in the Olympics? I would give anything to run as fast as he can."  To some (like myself) identifying with others as a living and breathing example has always seemed to reign impossible. Until recently.


I first encountered Lana Del Rey about a year ago. I fell in love with her first single -- a love ballad --  titled "Video Games" released on her sophomore album Born to Die. I possessed an acute knowledge for Lana, her persona or any of her other music, and for some reason was too naive to seek education. It wasn't until this past month when talk of the brilliance exhibited by her most-recent album Paradise had made its way to every social media forum within my possession. Intrigued, I purchased it.

I really felt a connection to the records of this album -- both lyrically and melodically. In this album, Lana writes of pain, of curiosity, of longing, of love, of freedom, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I found it impossible to quarantine my mind from the infectious melodies of "American" and "Blue Velvet" -- songs that document the ordinary intricacies of life that only a brilliant poet could portray so realistically.

Just yesterday I decided to look Lana's name up on YouTube, simply to confirm whether or not she had produced music videos for her singles. I clicked to view the video for a song titled "Ride" on her album Paradise. I expected to watch the usual monotonous, meaningless mess of a music video that most artists these days find compelling to produce. Instead I came across a short film that contained symbolism, purpose, creativity, and overall poetry in the rawest form. I encourage those who appreciate art to watch the link below, as I found it to be utterly compelling.


I think that this music video alone spiked my interest in Lana as both an artist and a person. I began to search for interviews, performances, any and all footage of her that I could get my hands on. The more I encountered her through my computer screen the more I realized she was becoming an inspiration.


In a recent interview Lana stated, "I had a vision of making my life a work of art, and I was looking for people who also felt that way." I suppose it's safe to say that I've always been a visionary. I've always wanted to impact the world on a grand, history-altering scale. I've always wanted to live a life that could serve as an example for generations to come as a life of importance -- of innovation. I've always wanted to make my life into a work of art. After all, what is life undocumented? No one remembers the legacy of the great Abraham Lincoln through word of mouth.

I've decided to build on Lana's philosophy. I will strive to make my life into a work of art. I don't have to leave behind a reservoir of melodies and poems -- but a legacy that is unique to me and the life I am living. And whenever someone asks me who inspires me, I'll know what to say.

Blue skies,
Brett Westmoreland


Photographs courtesy of Tumblr.

Monday, October 15, 2012

The Beauty of Babel

September 25th, 2012, is a day that holds immense notability in my life. Not because it's the day I walked through the mall without instantly gravitating toward Chik-fil-A, but because it's the day that Mumford & Sons released its sophomore album titled Babel.

Found on the shelves of Starbuckses 'round the world, Babel is a work of brilliance -- both poetically and musically -- and is now the fastest selling album of 2012 in the US. If you have yet to listen to the masterminds that are Mumford & Sons, Babel is definitely a solid starting point. 

The term "folk," under which genre I thought the band's music was categorized, had always left me feeling reluctant to spend $1.29. I'm not typically one to find either pleasure in or relation to a song about overalls, old men or out-houses. But then again, I'm not one to ignore the incessant griping of this band's amazingness that I was finding all over every outlet of social media. I found myself succumbing to societal pressures and purchasing Babel on iTunes. And, basically, I lived happily ever after.

Well, it's been three weeks. So far so good.

http://www.contactmusic.com/news/mumford-and-sons-babel-success_3310321
This album is inspiring in every aspect. It didn't contain the type of folk influence I was expecting -- none of the songs were titled "I Heart My Banjo." I find each song on this album to be completely relative to my life in some way. Babel seems to contain many songs involving relationships and the wide array of emotions one can feel at different points in a relationship -- from the optimistic lyrics of "I Will Wait," the album's first single, to the tear-jerking bonus track titled "Where Are You Now."

And when speaking of this album, one can't fail to mention the prodigious vocals of Marcus Mumford. It's completely rare for a vocalist to effectively portray such an immense emotional connection throughout an album, but "Mumford" front-man has done just that. I dare you to listen to "Broken Crown" and tell me you don't feel the angst and passion in his voice. You won't be able to because his emotions radiate -- explode. It's incredible.

Literally, every record on this album brings something to the table. In the words of my dear friend, Savannah, "I don't have a favorite song on this album. There's just a few that I love more than the rest." She couldn't have said it better. Every song is inspiring. If you haven't already, purchase this album. You won't regret it. If you love/hate it, leave comments. I'd love to hear someone else's opinion of this work of art.

Blue skies,
Brett Westmoreland