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Baggages and relationships - oil and water. By Ben.
The history of Retroactive Baggage has been plagued by problems involving the opposite sex. This is not a surprise. For the most part it has, and is being, produced by a collection of music-obsessed males with about as much ability to know what’s going on in the minds of their collective girlfriends as the lesser-spotted toad has of knowing pi to eight decimal places. We’re not talking gross insensitivity here, (although that has been achieved on some occasions) but just a general knack of ballsing things up without comprehending how. The question that this raises, of course, is why a group of people versed in the art of trying to express in minute details what they think of a certain group, or song, have a complete inability to relate what they are feeling towards a human being. The ease with which we’ll sit and talk in depth about the new release by whatever band is in complete contrast to the difficulty we have with actually finding out why a certain person is in a mood and what we did to put them there. However, I have a theory. About ten minutes ago, you would have witnessed a scene here in the office where Malcolm was swinging delightedly round on his swivel chair, Tim was guessing with a worrying exactitude exactly which TV shows the tracks on ‘The Cult Files’ CD were from, Dave was making sure the text on a certain page was exactly a millimetre away from the relevant photo and I was swearing profusely at the computer because the mouse wouldn’t go to the right place on the screen. It was ultimately a fairly pathetic sight. The thing is, throughout the weekend we have been plagued by moments like these. Earlier today, in the middle of a caffeine rush you would have found me bounding up and down stairs in a variety of interesting ways, Tim tapping madly at his desk whilst trying to place some album review and Malcolm writing French into the computer just to annoy the grammar check. Soon after that you would have found me and Malcolm going to Burger King to order four large double cheeseburger Supreme meals which we then came back and ate whilst writing silly things on a white board. My theory is that actually all our problems are not because we have done anything horrifically wrong just that the respective unfortunates who happen to get involved with us occasionally realise what sad bastards we can be and have to seriously think about what they are doing with us. We, on the other hand, wouldn’t notice a hurricane outside the window if it wasn’t the type that plays bad retro guitar rock in a similar fashion to The Seahorses when we are doing this bloody thing. That’s not to say we are alone in this, as you would know if you ever witnessed a band rehearsing or a football team practising. However, I do have one thing to say in our defence... only I can’t remember what it is. Ben. |
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