Trees Falling In The Quarantine Forest

by Kevin Burton

    Had a hard time getting the old blog out this week for reasons beyond my control.  It got me thinking about relevance.

   Also, our internet provider helped me name my alleged debut album.  But I’m getting way ahead of myself.

   First, my 6½-year-old computer gave up the ghost Sunday night or Monday morning.  The computer doctors at Ribbit Computers diagnosed and fixed the problem within 24 hours. I couldn’t believe they got it done that fast. Super!

   I needed a new power source. Included in the work was a long-overdue upgrade from Windows 7 to Windows 10. 

   I was able to post the Tuesday blog on time by typing the text directly into the WordPress site.  I did this on my Macintosh, which I have mostly dedicated to music production. Usually I copy and paste posts from my Page 7 done folder into WordPress.

   The upgrade meant my mouse, keyboard and printer no longer worked.  Got a new printer driver on the HP website. I am temporarily using a wired mouse and keyboard I had as spare parts. So, pretty much back in business, other than learning 10, which is a pain but a minor one.

   But then, on Thursday night/Friday morning our internet service from Cox Communications went out. They said it was routine maintenance that would be corrected by 6 a.m., but it wasn’t.  Nobody could come out until the next day. That’s why I didn’t post a Friday blog for the first time since April. 

   Can’t believe they responded so slowly. Not super.  Obviously Cox doesn’t know how important the Page 7 blog is.

   Or perhaps they do.

   In either case, this reprises the question of relevance.  I wonder how many, if any people noticed there wasn’t a Friday post. 

   I say reprises the question because quarantine has made me wonder how relevant a lot of things are.  About the time I feel forgotten I remember that I have lost touch with a lot of people, places and things myself.

   Last weekend I held a concert of sorts. It was a quarantine special done via the Amazon Echo “Alexa” device. I had exactly one listener, my friend Todd from Cleveland. We actually played our original songs for each other. Given the non-momentum of my music career and the additional virus interruption, that’s probably the biggest event I can ever hope for. 

   The “concert” was relevant to exactly two people, but I enjoyed it. Todd and I go back to fourth grade.  He gave me some advice I took on the tempo of one of the songs and some I didn’t take about lyrics.  

   I have ten songs that I have grouped into an album. My first and best title for the set was “The Basement Tapes.” It is the perfect name because I do these songs alone in my basement and the “tapes” part of it refers to my penchant for old-school “technology.”

   But I learned that Bob Dylan had a famous record called “The Basement Tapes.” I didn’t want to copy or appear to be comparing myself to him. I have thought of some other names but none as good. I settled on “Last Call.” because I’m so old to be doing a first album and it’s sort of now or never.

   But there I was this week with even my marginal quarantine-era relevance squashed by the internet company.

   So to heck with it. I’m going back to the name “The Basement Tapes.”

   It is highly improbable that the great Bob Dylan will ever come within six degrees – or 60 degrees – of separation with my music.  If he somehow did and objected, a cease and desist order from his camp would sell a lot more units than the music would on its own. 

   That decision gives me some solace, but surely qualifies as a tree falling in the quarantine forest. Nobody saw or heard it, nobody knows or cares. 

   But so what?  It also says here that I can sing better than Bob Dylan can.