Blue Ocean Music

   The meat and potatoes of this blog is reflected in its title. One daily post, about business, things global, marketing in particular, the applied arts (or a combination thereof). A less than ordinary focus, but it is my focus. Throughout the blog, a clear distinction has been made between the applied arts, crafts, the fine arts, and the performing arts; in an attempt to remain focused. It is the applied art, primarily the applied visual arts, that has my business attention.
   So, under the heading of business strategy, typified by the Blue Ocean Strategy put forth by Kim and Maubourg (2005), I am giving myself permission to entertain myself in the realm of the performing arts.
   The narrative goes something like this: I had just gotten my car back out of the shop after a couple days. I confess that I bought the car from someone who apparently was quite the audiophile (because there is no way I would have spent the kind of money I inherited on the sound system that this car has). It is the ides of October, in a sunny, hyper-comfortable, bright and cool Florida, and I was buoyed with sparkle by the sound of the funk disc I had burnt. I might also include here that I am currently driving a convertible, and the top was down.
   To further tweak the sensibilities, I would add that the preceding three or four weeks had been exceptionally stressful, and the last three or four days had represented positive turning points of milestone caliber.
   To say that I was having an "all is right with the world" experience would have been an understatement.
   But to say that I was crying, as I was driving down the road (which I treat like singing in the shower, assuming anybody who witnesses me for that fleeting moment will likely not remember anything, even on the off chance that they do know me), singing because I was happy would have been something of an understatement as well. This was bordering on the ecstatic (and, no, I was not high; not in decades).
   I do not want to pass up the opportunity to give you a chuckle, either. I am a husky, balding, on the short side, white guy. I was pushing into the "safe" margin beyond the speed limit, belting out at 1,000% passion and commitment Hot Fun in the Summertime by Sly & the Family Stone and Got To Give It Up by Marvin Gaye (to name a few).
   At some point, exactly the caliber of what I was experiencing came to me with crystalline candor. With a tangential snap, like a daydreaming dog suddenly thrown a bone, I had an acknowledgment of my favorite kind of poetry; the ecstatic poetry of the saints. It seems to me that no one has ever matched the absoluteness of goodness of love poetry than the magic of heart and soul wrested or exploded by the likes of Juan de la Cruz, Hafiz of Shiraz, Teresa of Avila, Rumi, etc.
   That is when it occurred to me that what might constitute a kind of best combination may well not have happened yet, because on the face of it, it seems like such an unlikely pairing. However, I would submit, on deeper consideration (which is obviously, where I was) it truly made sense. The sexiest of sexy, completely surrendered to the greatest love of all: Holy Funk!
   Of course, immediate comparisons come to mind as regards contemporary Christian rock. Sorry, not even close. I am, however, aware of music created by a community of devotees of Avatar Meher Baba (the Rubenstein’s, Maraiya Latulippe, Lisa Brande & Mark Trichka, and more – a prolific bunch) that strikes the right tone of ecstasy, on a regular basis and, has even been known to pack a punch. But never have I found any with the flavor of raw deliciousness as, say, I'll Be Good to You by The Brothers Johnson, or Let's Stay Together by Al Green.
   Well, clearly, this is a Blue Ocean strategy. No one has ever attempted to marry the truly ecstatic with the satiny smooth itch and scratch of raw funk. I imagine Paul Simon and Peter Gabriel, collaborating, could pull this off (Simon & Gabriel has a ring to it). I am already sensing instrumentation from the near and Middle East; a Persian santoor, an Indian chande (etc.) gone thick, heavy and deep R&B.
   I have no connections with Mr. Simon or Mr. Gabriel. If you do, please feel free to forward this post. I know this was a departure from my usual posts. And if you've been following me for any length of time, you know that from time to time I break things up (without going too far afield). My apologies if this concept gets stuck in your head; kinda. For on the one hand, I realize you will be joining me in pining for music that does not yet exist. On the other hand, it might periodically find a smile on your face; as you try to cobble together the notion for yourself. Regardless, at least you had a refreshing moment, zipping down a Florida interstate, on a beautiful crisp day with the top down … smirking at the incongruous thought that this writer would be crooning at full volume to the likes of Chaka Khan & The Staple Singers.