Happy people have no stories

I'm the kind of person that likes to listen to Massive Attack after dark, preferably loudly, while staring straight ahead at nothing. It's not a particularly happy past-time, but one I find immensely satisfying now and then. Something in the claustrophobic beats and paranoid mumblings stirs my blackened soul, and I can walk away feeling slightly more positive and upbeat. To steal a line from Bono (fuck, forgive me...), you can often find Jesus under the trash.

With the recent release of the new Beatles version of Rock Band, there's loads of yuppies running out to the nearest EBGames, pudgy faces contorted with glee as they rush back to their living rooms to play along with John, Paul, George and Ringo, rocking their hearts out to the happiest songs ever written. Predictably my first reaction is "bastards", but after some thought it turns to "how boring".

While there is no denying the talent and genius of The Beatles, I'm always amazed to find people so in love with them. Yes, they wrote happy songs, but often they were at their best when breaking the rules a bit and tripping out on drugs, and you'd be hard pressed to say that any of them had happy lives. While three minutes of singing about holding someone's hand may be a quick ray of sunshine, it doesn't really do much to move the soul. History was not made on niceties; there were no wars started over kindness, no great novels written on happiness, and nations never conquered through reasonable compromise.

No, because that would be far too boring. What we need as humans is deceit, betrayal, anger and lust, all very unhappy traits. Imagine a happier 'Romeo and Juliet':

"Father, I want to marry Romeo Montague!"
"Oh, all right then..."
"Thanks Daddy!"

So while all the idiots are playing along to 'Elanor Rigby' and blissfully ignoring the sadness of her situation, I'll be sitting here jealous of their fun, listening to 'Mezzanine' and playing along using all the black keys.