In welchem Heavy versucht zu erklären, was in diesem Blog passieren soll (überkompliziert, langweilig) und die Heavyzitätsklassifikationstabelle präsentiert.
[Note: there will be some posts in English, some in German. Each English post will have a German abstract and vice versa.]
This blog hereby makes a niche-niche-proposition, namely: its posts will be about stuff few people cherish compared to things mostly different folks (but usually just as many) are fond of.
In a regular case, a post might look at a specimen of harsh, hard or just plain interesting music, for simplicity’s sake subsumed under the moniker „heavy“, and compare that to, say, Minor Dramatists of Early Modern Literature, as for example Henry Chettle, the namesake of this blog.
If you just try to picture that for a second, that is actually a triple-niche-proposition, as such a comparison is a new niche in itself, newly combined out of two other niches. Asking you to read this blog is not even akin to suggesting en passant to watch a, say, film of the Nouvelle Vague and drink some IPA with a really strange ingredient.
That would be a middle of the road proposition for not being middle of the road. It’s rather like asking you after listening to a dodecaphonic serial composition while close-reading a particularly difficult portion (so, any portion) from Finnegan’s Wake to then discuss it in an assembly of Arbitrarians Anonymous.
In doing that, this blog aims to forge that which you might rightly call a considerable bug (two obscures don’t make a right-fully enjoyable blog) into a feature by stepping away from the well-trodden middle and delving into the side roads and alleyways, dark passages and gray wastelands of culture and in doing so trace their similarities, discern recurring structures, aspects, discover unexpectedly compelling sights and insights, or just plain know it better each and every time – and making that a worthwile read.
Conversely, this blog will never ask you to assume that the stuff presented here is (if only covertly or to some) cool, avantgarde, cutting edge, à la mode, “interesting” or “problematic” (it might be any and all of that, but that’s not why I’d choose to write about it) or something you actually need to know. Quite the contrary, this stuff has mostly been shelved, dusty and ignored for a long time or it might have just been released to very narrow acclaim and quite little note-taking and will quite likely and happily remain in that aggregate after being looked at queasily for a minute, here on Heavy Chettle. Inasmuch this blog aims to spotlight continual obscurity as a way of life, a raison d’etre**, an enclosure, a form of preservation, a source of contentment, an aspiration, fun. There, I said it, yes, fun. Go ahead, be amused.
The intended measure of worthwhile-ity will be achieved by the following ingredients:
- Two separate instances of cultural production with one common denominator that the post will strive to expose for your entertainment
- Audiovisual support to counteract the steady decline of your attention span induced by one or, quite likely, both of the instances of cultural production.
- Grounding in scientific method® through citation of primary and secondary sources.
- An objective, scientifically sound measurement of the heaviness on the Heavy Chettle Classification table of Heaviness (see below, patent pending).
- Wild and freewheeling association.
- I shall try to be brief and to the point(s). I said “I’ll try”.
So how “heavy” exactly was this explanation? Let’s take a look at the classification table!
This explanation is not easily classifiable, but if you put me in a headlock or a gun to my head or let me dangle from a cliff (please refrain from doing any of these things) I’d say this scores a light “Shroudy with a chance of earth lumps” on the Heavy Chettle Heavy Stuff classification table of Heaviness.
* On the idea of combining beer and milkshake, I’ll let John Steinbeck’s marine biologist Doc do the talking (to himself): “While he ate his sandwich and sipped his beer, a bit of conversation came back to him. Blaisedell, the poet, had said to him, “You love beer so much, I’ll bet someday you’ll go in and order a beer milk shake.” It was a simple piece of foolery but it had bothered Doc ever since. He wondered what a beer milk shake would taste like. The idea gagged him but he couldn’t let it alone. It cropped up every time he had a glass of beer. Would it curdle the milk? Would you add sugar? It was like a shrimp ice cream. Once the thing got into your head you couldn’t forget it. He finished his sandwich and paid Herman. He purposely didn’t look at the milk shake machines lined up so shiny against the back wall. If a man ordered a beer milk shake, he thought, he’d better do it in a town where he wasn’t known. But then, a man with a beard, ordering a beer milk shake in a town where he wasn’t known—they might call the police.”
Copied and pasted from here, a food blog offering its recipe of a concoction made of ice cream and beer, since that, too, exists. Disclaimer: I’m not dissing IPAs/craft beers on principle, there’s good stuff and anything with DIY traces is generally good in my book. But it’s so incredibly easy to make fun of.
** If this blog should aquire any sort of prominence, well-readness and clickability (within bounds of niche reason, of course) I’ll ignore the inherent contradiction of exposing and thereby disobscuring obscure matter or, if worse comes to worst, begrudgingly, but non-verbally acknowledge it by putting on a pained face and lifting my upturned palms.