A Piece of Silliness: the Blonde Robot

A goofy, stubborn part of me thinks that continuing to write in the lyric tradition – while also flirting with experimentation – could be seen as a form of resistance or protest; a way of sticking up for the rights of carbon life forms before the complete android-insation of culture.

Perhaps maintaining an affinity with the lyric is akin to the slow food movement: a way of making us take time, take a breather, in the face of the constant juggernaut of change. And while one part of me thinks ‘Lucky robots! Lucky computers!’ another thinks, but they’ll be missing out on so much. How will they really know the eddying joy of seeing a rain-swollen river ferry a fleet of yellow leaves seawards? How will they know the joy of a loved one touching their hips after a period of aloof coolness? How will they know the harmless pleasure of hunting down the city’s best muesli bars?! (Ah, I hear the philosophers cry, but what is knowledge?) But still, poor robots. Don’t you think?

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