Too much music

Somewhere in the midst of my million complaints, I have one that concerns the abundance of music that finds itself willing my ears into giving it a shot, or a review, or a purchase, or whatever. That's the problem--I want to hear too much, to know too much about a mountain that's too enormous for anyone to traverse, much less conquer. Whether I find solace in its simplicity, complexity, ethics, politics, or even just the melody, there's never enough time to know all the music under my roof, and it just keeps piling up: the flea market visits, the trips to the record store, scouring discount online stores, or the abundance of music that winds up in my mailbox in the hopes that I'll give it my semi-critical eye for the world to see, it's a wolf in sheep's clothing. Those clothes have been slowly coming off for the past couple of years, and I'm only partially aroused by what's underneath. I'll tell the truth. I don't own anything by Led Zeppelin or The Rolling Stones! How's that for a critic's collection? The truth is, I just haven't gotten around to it. If I'm lending my ear to that particular time period, it's for The Kinks and Love, The Beach Boys and The Zombies, Phil Ochs, The MC5, The Stooges, The Velvet Underground, etc.

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