Emo

Emo is neither a flightless bird nor a Sesame Street inhabitant. It is, as it happens, the vehicle, albeit a shoddy one, for this characteristically overdue post. It is also an alternative music sub-genre that favours raw, unfettered expressions of emotion over melody, craft or any form of subtlety, spawning a gut of guitar anthems for the misunderstood college guy whose love for the girl next dorm goes unrequited. Boo-hoo.

The problem with Emo bands such as Dashboard Confessional is that, unlike the universal disgruntlement of say The Smiths or The Cure, they're so lodged in adolescence that nobody past sophomore year is able to connect with their music.

I mention it because just now I was myself connecting with music, browsing the iTunes online music store and stumbling across Emo in the unlikeliest of places. I was looking for an Audiobook to help with my train journey to London tomorrow and found that by How to Make People Like You in 90 Second or Less is the suggestion that "you might also like Dashboard Confessional". A case of Apple knowing its customers, me thinks.

So, I'll save you the confessional and hope that you like me beyond our first 90 seconds. It's usually in my second or third minute that the appeal really kicks in, and the seldom used nickname, Sharma the Charmer, begins to take effect. Imagine then, if you will, three weeks in my company. For America, land of the free, home of the brave, that dream will soon be a reality, as I venture beyond the window shopping of iTunes to the booking counters of online travel agents. That’s right – I, like Eddie Murphy of the 1988 film of the same name, am coming to America. So lock up your daughters, or indeed your mothers, I’ll be there April 2nd to 23rd.