-
This isn’t Buffy. I didn’t go to heaven and get depressed: I fought all of you, and have very few nice things to say about the people who seemed to think they had the right to steal my songs for their own musicals.
It’s not about identity: it’s about I wrote that Beach Song and Cass did not write that song.
So if they want to write their own, then go ahead. Musicals are like that: there’s usually like 6 variations on any given song theme, and lots of shows have essentially the same types of song.
I wrote that song about my real friends, and they aren’t one of those.
-
You may like the same movies and the same shows and like my playlists, but you damn well do not like me.
That’s how I feel about the madding crowd. I probably like those movies for different reasons.
-
Yes, it’s possible that I can write swooning romantic music, and also be a total arsehole with a Mozartean penchant for toilet humour and the arrogance that comes with being a prodigy.
Composers are supposed to be able to write any situation, particularly if one specialises in dramatic music like myself.
I like Rodgers and Hart because the sour lyrics punctuate the soaring tunes, and I try to do that with my own lyrics: I admire Hart a lot more than Sondheim did, though I reckon Ira Gershwin was a hack.
Harnick is my favourite show music lyricist: nobody sets English as well as him, not even Sondheim.
-
Sometimes, a love song is just a love song. I think people who aren’t familiar with musicals forget that the love songs are placeholders for sex, which is a totally different buzz to a pop song.
That’s why I like show scores: it’s the closest I’ve ever come to getting laid.
-
As for passing: why the hell should I?
I think that is people fetishising me, if I’m allowed to be totally blunt. People want me to pass because it fits their vision of what fucking a trannie is supposed to be like from the porn.
Whereas I’m the real Amanda, with the real gender dysphoria diagnosis. Serano’s Excluded book had several trannies like me - I’m a gender radical.
What I’d like to hear is that my stubble isn’t frightening, although I realise that’s not true. The stereotypes kinda kick my arse when it comes to body hair, and that crushed my spirit.
I bounced back, but I feel like reclaiming that bearded trannie space (eventually).
-
Yes, I am planning to invite myself to the meeting with Chloe. That’s two weeks away, so I reckon I’ll ask Gary a little closer to the day.
Honestly, I want to see the guys unfurl their scheme. All I know is just vague ideas, plus I’m curious what the dynamic is between them and Chloe.
As for my outfit: who knows? I tend to pick my clothes on the day.
-
I don’t feel like I need to atone. That’s why I’m completely and utterly not interested in any bs involving the Welly people who think they own me.
I did what I did. I don’t feel guilty or ashamed, because honestly my life was hard and those who were offended weren’t helpful.
I don’t need or want their help. They should back off and let me do what I want.
And my criticisms are just what I feel. That’s what a critic is supposed to do.
-
It’s nice that the Asian girls think I can understand their perspective, and I bet they write white and Indigenous characters despite not having that ethnic identity or background themselves. The chattering classes are too obsessed with authenticity imo -- see a later dropping.🍃 We all as writers have the right to write about whoever we choose: Emanuel wrote a novella called Olympia that tackled this theme recently. I have a copy if anyone wants to read it ... his books aren't like his conspiracy rants, and are often quite entertaining.
To back up my argument with evidence: Salina wrote a Tupaia piece and Michael Norris premiered a taonga pūoro + orchestra + electronics piece with another white guy playing the Māori instruments, so let’s be honest about appropriation. We all do it, it’s an essential facet of being human, and that’s how ideas spread.
Same with Cadence’s show, where she wrote about a whole bunch of white people + the Asian lead.
Bill Goldman’s ‘the Muscle’ concept explains this: musicals tend to have one person who is largely responsible for the vision of the show; it can be any of the core creative team, or even the star. It’s just the person who is stubborn enough. -
And I am not just a he. I am fucking insulted that my refusal to wear makeup makes people confident enough to question my own self-identity. That’s pretty fucking pathetic from the SJW crowd.
-
I’d also like to bitch about relative privilege. Salina comes from a seriously rich background: her parents are loaded-as.
I bet Cass is the same.
So, really it’s just three upper middle-class people whinging and moaning about shit that lower-class people don’t give a fuck about.
-
I bet Bach didn’t give a fuck about authenticity when he cribbed French, Italian and English dances for his famous suites.
And I doubt the Creole players who spread early Jazz gave much of a fuck about the classical tradition, though they could read the scores.
Comments