Why the Young Poodles?

Some of you may ask - what the fuck, John - really? The Young Poodles? To which I answer - Yes, the Young Poodles.

The life of the bourgeois tit is hard - too spoiled to have learnt much of anything from adversity, not so rich as to actually be able to do nothing. And so, Art. The urge not to *just* make money, but the need perhaps to justify a certain aesthetic sensibility, exposure to the best of the world's cultures, and sufficient self regard to feel capable of contributing something. And the business model is unassailable.

Some people get really rich from art, I (we) are clearly special, ergo we'll get rich.

Bulletproof really.

It's one of those self-created tensions whereby it's not 'enough' to do something clearly worthwhile - like actually helping people or providing services with a clear market value - oh no, it's got to be grander than that.

It is perhaps one of the clear signs Western society is on the brink of collapse. The grandparents homesteaded. The parents went to university. Their children grew up knowing comfort and having the time to gaze at their navels. And as much as you gaze, your navel holds tight to its secrets. Turns out there really is just belly lint there - like the Sirens sweetly singing there's nothing really *there* when you just sit and ponder.

So my friends started a band. And it has not quite yet caught the world on fire. But they're not dead. And so why not share it? Because we all struggle - either with real challenges, or challenges we create for ourselves. And the travails of the Young Poodles are the challenges that face any one trying to do anything. When do you quit? Is it worthwhile? What's it all for?