Babel (ing)

        Greetings dear and patient reader.  You will no doubt be thrilled to learn that I have finally recovered from my ruptured Achilles Tendon.  I foolishly incurred this, middle-aged man trying to relive the past, injury while attempting my soccer "comeback" in April of this year.  It was, as previously reported in my last blog, a quite serious setback, but an interesting one nevertheless.  It certainly provides one a sense of proportion when you have to hobble around for several weeks on crutches that were hardly fit for purpose (or possibly it was operator error?)  That sense of proportion was brought more clearly into focus when over the summer I observed wounded veterans and the athletes at the London Para-Olympic Games overcoming odds that are so long, my temporary limp paled by comparison.
      Anyway, you are probably asking; since the Achilles is part of the lower leg, how did that prevent Mr.Bulldog from blinding us with his brilliant insights for the past several months?  Did his Achilles tendon somehow connect to his opposable thumbs or even his brain, so that he could not type a few words now and again?
       Well I have one word in response, and that word is - summer.  I think I had mentioned previously that the Bulldog is a transplant from his native British Isles to the tundra that is Minnesota, and therefore summer becomes a wonderful, sacrosanct, but all too brief episode between ice fishing seasons. Consequently most of my waking hours (and a few of the comatose ones) are spent outside, frantically trying to replenish my Vitamin D reserves for the coming bitter darkness.  In other words, I am rarely at my computer long enough during Central Daylight Time to fashion a few coherent thoughts, let alone put together a blog for the yearning masses.
     With my excuses at an end, my thoughts can know turn to the burning issues a la mode.  Should I pontificate on the recently completely US general election, the growing crisis between Israel and Palestine, or perhaps the juicy and convoluted General Petraeus affair?  Passe, never ending, titillating but of no real consequence, was my immediate reaction to all three.  Since I have addressed Global Climate change and Religion in my previous blogs (quite comprehensively I must admit)  I had to decide what was at the forefront of the public mind?  I finally came to the conclusion that without a doubt, it is the current state of popular music - and of course I have many opinions on the subject.
           Instead of waxing lyrical about the 70's, and it's seemingly exhaustible  reservoir of wonderfully varied musical genres, I wanted to say a few words about modern music.  What is that you say Bulldog - is there good contemporary popular music out there?  I am going to go out on a limb here and say yes there is - if you look hard enough and gaze mostly beyond the charts.
         One band that I am listening to - right now in fact as I write this very blog - is Mumford & Sons. I am sure that many of you of are familiar with the four plucky folkie lads from London that are currently riding high (ish) in the charts with Babel, their most recent release. Both Babel and their first album Sigh No More have sold a boatload (official Billboard term) of records or downloads or whatever in the past couple of years.  As is my custom when excited to "discover" contemporary music that doesn't actually make my ears bleed, I started to Google, You Tube and Wikapedia the band for further details.  I perused reviews, bios and watched videos to make sure that my initial flush of enthusiasm matched the reality of their musical output. On balance I concluded that MAS was a band that, not only could I embrace, but could also drop into casual conversation with people decades younger than myself.
          Sadly though, it seems that many of the aforementioned millennials, are out on You Tube, Twitter and other social media that I don't subscribe to, writing all sorts of hurtful and sometimes unrepeatable criticisms of the band.  You see it appears that MAS are guilty of the unforgivable sin of not fitting into an "approved" genre of music. Not quite folk or bluegrass, definitely not rock, far from urban pop or rap, the band combines instruments like banjo, guitar and piano that apparently defy stereotyping.  "Not authentic" they sniff. "American roots music played by Brits" they admonish, and horror of horrors they are all "middle class".  Good grief, do you have to be born in the Oklahoma dust bowl or a housing estate in South London to be considered authentic?   If that was the case, the charts would be pretty barren over the last 50 years if the bourgeoisie hadn't pitched in with at least a few tunes..
          Anyway, the point is, I like them. They are a generation younger than me and I listen to them without  prejudice. I don't care about their dress, class, instruments or motives, since at the end of the of the day, it's all about the music. Imagine that.
         Until next time - the Albion Bulldog.