I’m back. Not like an oversized man-machine sent back in time or a certain bloody Count (or was that a Baron?) of lore with a penchant for necking of a sort. Nope. You see, if I didn’t make a re-entry, I would have to change this blog to deadnote.com – too painful, not to mention significantly more depressing – and this particular post to ‘Death Note’ which makes for a subtle but important difference from its current title, don’t you think? (Explanatory Note: title expands to Near Death Experience). Dyamm, now that I’ve put the first few words together, I should’ve done this around Halloween.

There’s a simple reason that I have not been active here. I’d barely been listening to music, at least till about a week back. I made one brief appearance on WP to check the output of some of my favourite bloggers and saw that there’s, as always, much new music of note. Too much for me to deal with. And so I quickly dived out. Then a few days back, after much dithering, I decided to pay attendance at a 3-day music (also art and drama, but mainly music) festival in the hills called goMAD. Alone. Running a fever. And till the event started, with one question in my mind: why? But once the show started, nothing mattered. I wish I had been able to take me out of myself to see what must’ve been a comical spectacle. A lone middle-aged man screaming, jumping, fist-pumping; all with no company at hand. I had the time of my life. I saw and heard some great music which perhaps I’ll post about provided I don’t crawl back to the crypt. To egg me on further towards a little light and music,  a set of 6 CDs was delivered home a couple of days back as part of a goodies-pack for contributors to a crowd-funded music event. Sadly, I couldn’t be there for it but I will make it to the next edition. This one was the 4th edition of Control ALT Delete and the organisers deserve plaudits for promoting indie music in this part of the world.

Lots as usual happening in music that I’d shut myself out of but the one thing that did catch my eye (it was the gossip imp, not the real me) was the Sinead O’Connor v/s Miley Cyrus word-bullet battle (whatever happened to fists and knuckledusters???). Much as I admire Sinead’s music, I thought it was extremely naive of her to offer advice as if these hard-nosed young things are wide-eyed innocent kids. That apart, I realised that this Miley character is quite the thing these days, that she has hits and all. But what do I know? Till very recently I thought twerk was a sort of idiot on Twitter.

I can’t quite sign out of this post without a little dedication. A dear girl remembered what my last post was. Well, almost – she missed by one. But I was touched. Of course, it would’ve creeped me out if she had remembered the date it was posted. This one’s for Shweta who remembered what I had almost forgotten.

I can’t quite think of a better song to go with this post than one of my favourites from a super-group: ‘End Of The Line’ by The Traveling Wilburys. Yeah, right I’m ancient but I’m alive.

And I’ll be back.