You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June, 2008.
I just read an article in an old Q mag about the making of U2’s The Joshua Tree and am severely tempted to dig the album out and take it to work for a listen tomorrow. It’s one of those that you forget about after the singles from it kind of swamp the mind’s vision.
Problem is, digging it out would be a task and a half now as it, as with all of my stuff, is boxed up in a garage and I haven’t a scooby as to which box to look in for it. Not that I want to mess with the delicate structure of boxes and furniture pieces.
It’s a strange state of flux to find myself in once again and marks the start of 23 months of rigid budgeting to pay off my debts. I’m actually looking forward to it. Especially the last payment.
My lovely Xantia failed her M.O.T today. On the one thing that has always scared my about the car but can’t say surprised me – the suspension. The rear spheres are gone. Which accounts for the seasickness Linda endures while travelling in it. Thankfully the lovely people at Citroen – who almost sold me a new C4 last time I went in – didn’t rip my arm off as payment or demand the blood of my first born child. The hole repair job for a little over a tonne and it’ll cost me less as they’re gonna use the LHM fluid I bought last time but didn’t need.
Bonus. While in my near-ten years of motoring I’ve yet to have a car go straight through, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be and a lot better than it could have been. I get extremely nervous during the test, I don’t mind admitting it. I pace around the waiting area, stick my head out the door and watch the testing… it’s one of the longest half hour or so’s I go through.
Why? Well, I need my car. I don’t live in a big city (yet) where I can get on the Metro (or tube) and get around without the motor. Plus there’s the expense. The newer my cars get the more expensive the repairs on them get and always at times when I don’t have too much to spare. In this, as with most situations, I tend to over-worry the outcomes in advance so that when the time comes I’m nervously anticipating the worst possible outcome. Of course, while this makes the joy of a good outcome all the better, it’s hell on the nerves.
I really should learn to better understand my thought process. If only to stop hurting those I love with it. I’m trying to learn self-control of my mind. It’s hard as there’s so many things going on within it. I don’t want to sound big headed here but my mind is always alive with thoughts and only a small percentage of them are relevant to the subject and so I tend to focus on the wrong things. I’ve learnt that this hurts people and I can never apologise enough. Only try and focus and let go of the bad thoughts.
When I say ‘bad thoughts’ I no longer mean those which called the Black Dog to my door. I have, for now, quelled those. I mean those which take my mind away from the feelings of others (her, mainly) and worry too much over the little, tiny details instead. To me these thoughts are worse than those of despair as they threaten to destroy that which I love and am striving for.
Sometimes I wish I could just shut them off and stay in the moment.
Enough, for now.
I have a new obsession to sit alongside the online scrabble thing. What is it? More like who: Speak, a Hungarian ‘rapper,’ who happens to make some of the funniest things I’ve ever heard and seen at the same time while trying to be completely serious.
It’s not that I doubt his convictions just that I don’t think they come across so well in English.
I’m completely behind the times on this (as the great man himself states 2003) Stop the war:
(business)
And this one… (“2007 Speak is back, yeah come on”) Hold On in which he manages to remind us again of his Stop The War ‘hit’ via headphones on a moodily cold and grey day..
(an angel, that’s right). Seriously, I nearly pissed my pants when his ‘angel’ appeared and started singing.
I’m also reliably informed that this one is shot in Budapest and that my own sense of geography sucks and this is a lovely city and one I should visit and learn to differentiate between Bucharest and the Hungarian capital in future (happy?). A little digging on the unofficial fan site (oh how I want to be the one to run that puppy) has worried me slightly be stating that there’s no records or cds available and that “Speak (born Tamás Deák ) is a masseur by trade.” Other sources even said he was a manger of a restaurant in Cyprus!
So off to wiki I went for the people-moderated-truth and, ignoring the claims that he is expected to receive the NME’s Godlike Genius Award (though those berks would award it to a complete twat as long as they have syringe marks in their arm and can muster two chords – I so hope they hear this) he is a Hungarian rapper, model and artist. And only 4 years older than me and resides in his beloved Budapest (not Bucharest) and is expected to return for speaking dates in the UK this year! Yes!! I hope they’re called “Speak Speaks.”
Also, did you know Bucharest is known as “Paris of the East?” or that the mayor is Sorin Oprescu and the city was first recorded in 1459? See, my geography is top notch.
George Carlin died. A sad day. He may well be remembered by many of my generation for playing Rufus in the Bill & Ted films but as far as comedy goes he’ll be remembered for his then ground-breaking Seven Words You Can’t Say On TV routine that actually got him arrested for Disturbing The Peace.
\
Bye George.
fuck off! Part One
Noel Gallagher: “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. If you start to break it then people aren’t going to go. I’m sorry, but Jay-Z No chance.
“Glastonbury has a tradition of guitar music and even when they throw the odd curve ball in on a Sunday night you go ‘Kylie Minogue?’
“I don’t know about it. But I’m not having hip hop at Glastonbury. It’s wrong.”
For one thing: what makes it your decision what happens at Glasto? For another, not that I’m a huge Jay-Z fan (though 99 Problems is a fucking immense song), at least the man has more than 2 songs. Oasis have all of two speeds; boring and asleep. Yes they were once vital but that was more than 10 years ago. What have you done since Noel? Recylce the same riff and attitude and hairstyle every two years? Yeah, I thought so: Fuck off.
Avril Lavigne: “I’m on a vegan diet, I do yoga every day, I work out, I’m totally spiritual …”
Like, er, totally man. Grow up. Fuck off.
Ahh good old Blighty. There’s three reasons I’m grinning today. One of them, always, is Linda. Second is the fact that when I drove to the supermarket today to grab my weeks grocery shop I saw that petrol prices have… FALLEN!!! That’s right! I’d be a little more thrilled if I hadn’t filled up last night at the slightly higher price but this could well be a sign that someone has started to use their head.
The third reason is.. to be very British.. the weather. You can always count on this country to produce some gorgeous looking days once you hit that Summer Solstice. There may well be a fair nip in the air but it cannot detract from the heat of the big yellow thing in the sky and the sheer attraction of the countryside on a day like today. Have a look:
Admitedly not great photos but the best I could do given the moving car and the fact that everytime I stopped cyclists rode past as the road to my father’s house was part of cycle race course today (miles 4 – 5 to be precise).
I watched Brick the other night. I’m so far behind in watching movies that I’m probably the last person to have seen it but I will still make my point that it was extremely good. Joseph Gordon-Levitt was superb in the lead and not once did I think of him as Tommy from 3rd Rock From The Sun – if anything his performance, if not his mannerisms, made me think of Heath Ledger. The whole film was wonderfully casted and paced and kept my interest throughout – a rare thing these days especially when set in the world of American high-schoolers.
What’s with the facebook poke?? How annoying would that be in real life? If every time somebody wanted your attention they just poked you?!
After my luke warm reaction to “Evil Urges” I was wary to listen to the new Weezer album (the Red one). My good buddy, band mate and brother-from-another-mother had raved to me about it on Monday and today I got my hands on a copy.
Let’s cut the crap and say: It’s Fucking Awesome. There’s so much life in the album it’s staggering, spontaneous musical decisions throughout and Pork and Beans happens to be the best Weezer single since Hash Pipe. Strange to think that it was written after the boys and girls at Geffen told him they band needed something more commercial. Though isn’t that how Springsteen’s Dancing In The Dark came about? Some record label dude saying a single was required? Regardless, Rivers and the boys (for it is clearly a group effort) have done themselves proud with this beauty.
Aside from voicing a long held rant against Guitar Hero et al, I attended a wedding this weekend. My little sister’s wedding to be precise.
It was a strange thing, watching my younger sister get married. As with all my siblings I still see them in my mind as ‘little’ as there’s a sufficient age gap for me to remember them doing things like walking for the first time etc. In the case of my little brother the age gap was so that my name was his third word uttered. So to see my little sister dressed in her white wedding dress and watching people toast to her wedded life felt a bit strange.
Weddings are always a great family get-together and many members of my family that I haven’t seen for a long time attended. There was also the fact that Linda came with me and stood up well to the daunting task of meeting all my family for the first time. There’s a lot of us when both sides of the family come together. Plus, I’m better when she’s around.
With Linda around the weekend flew by all too quickly really, perfect as it was.
Still, over the hump of Wednesday now so the week is downhill to the weekend, especially as it’s now nearing clocking off time on a Thursday. It’s strange, Friday used to mean Breakfast Stick at work of a morning – sausages, bacon, egg, hash brown and mushrooms in a French stick, all lovingly cooked in a dollop of grease but it’s been a long time now since I dabbled – certainly long before I even went to Paris and realised how bad our cuisine was. The gorging on so much grease isn’t part of maintaining the trimmer self I achieved at the gym. Nor is it part of maintaining the budget I’ve set out for myself.
Having Evil Urges… now this one I imagine is a title that needs to be explained. I’m not about to burn down the convent. I finally got my ears around the new My Morning Jacket album “Evil Urges.” I love My Morning Jacket. Not only are It Still Moves and Z still in my short list of Essential Album but I am rarely seen out of my ‘Z’ tee shirt – I’m wearing it now, it’s on heavy rotation.
“Evil Urges,” though, left me a little… cold. As much a fan of Prince as Jim James may well be it’s no excuse for the falsetto funk opener and title track. James’ soaring vocal is left on high pitch all the way through and actually annoys! I think only Aluminum Park allows his vocals the range they so desire. The only highlights come from James’ sentimental side – Touch ME I’m Going To Scream, Two Halves, I’m Amazed and Librarian. Gone are the heavy guitar chops and creativity that were hinted at on It Still Moves and reached fruition on Z. It sounds.. rushed which is odd considering how long it took to squeeze this one out, as if.. they had half their great album here but somehow failed production wise on the other half. It lacks the charm of earlier works such as If It Smashes Down from At Dawn.
A real, gutting shame. I know that a couple of tracks will grow on me but it fails when their previous albums all hit home on the first take. I don’t think I will ever like the song Highly Suspicious – especially the gang vocals . I know for a band to stand still is for a band to go backwards, but it sounds like they took half a step forward, got scared and moved to the left a bit instead and decided the world needed more white men doing James Brown impressions.
It almost seems like Band Of Horses, much to their chargrin, made the best My Morning Jacket albums since Z. So while I once thought I’d rush out and shell my highly valued cash on this the first chance I got… I think I’ll wait and listen to the earlier stuff again.
On the subject of music.. sorry to bore but if you don’t care for music why are you reading my blog, don’t you know me by know? .. I’ve been writing and working hard on more songs for BrokenOrchestra. Genuine emotive songs and structures that evoke more than a visceral sensation of deconstruction. I think my playing mirrors the things that I absorb musically (but I’m not about to do an Evil Urges despite listening to Purple Rain) and state of mind.
While our first effort was born out of my hatred for guitar – I did everything I could to stop it sounding like a guitar half the time – I have since fallen in love and love with the guitar so things are a lot less.. apocalyptic in my mind. I’ve been listening to things like Disintegration and Pink Floyd so more emotive playing is flowing through and songs are being built rather than rushed to record.
I’m excited about it, I really am. Every time I feel a song is written I get excited and play it over and over and over… my test audience (thanks again, Linda) seems to like them too. So no more trying to sound like a dying wale.
Arse!
I swear humanity has taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way on this issue.
Once upon a time, really not very long ago, if you wanted to know what it was like to play guitar you bought a guitar, learnt some chords and got sore fingertips before strumming out that first baby-steps, three or four chord song – usually Knockin’ On Heavens Door, Smoke on the Water or, if you bought a capo too, Wonderwall.
Then, as you progressed from strumming chords you could pick out individual strings and when you threw in a D and G you had Everybody Hurts and as the skill builds up you could tackle those songs that’d make your wrist fall off with practice such as the circus like riff that opens Sweet Child O’Mine. With every Nirvana riff nailed a feeling of satisfaction would emerge and you’d become braver, tackling more complex sounding tracks such as Jane’s Addiction’s Just Because before your confidence was up enough to play with other guitar bashers – or, in technical terms: ‘musicians’ – and learn more.
At least, that’s how I did it.
Not anymore though. This thing called Guitar Hero traversed its way from Japanese arcades to shop shelves. A miniature, plastic little guitar shaped controller with colour coded buttons in place of frets. No need to learn actual chords and riffs when you can push coloured buttons, as prompted along to guitar classics. Then there’s sequels and dedicated editions. Not to mention being able to hook it up with your mates’ games and have face-offs. If only you could do such things with REAL guitars…
Then there’s Rock BAND – to give you all the fun of being in a real band without any of that troublesome stuff of say, buying instruments, learning instruments, learning and writing songs and.. creating. Oh no, who needs that when you can spend upwards of £70 on a fake guitar or drumkit which, by the way, you look Reeeaaallly cool playing, and PRETEND?! Wow, with one person singing, one person pushing buttons pretending to play guitar and another hitting colour coded drum pads it’s almost like you’re in a band! Wow.
Let me illustrate how I see this in terms of the devolution of music: imagine you’re walking down the street. You walk past a house and the garage door is open, inside a drummer twirling the bolts on top of the symbols and setting up while two kids churn out guitar chords and lanky kid with a bass (they’re always the lanky ones) tunes up. Two minutes later they’re in the middle of a slightly loose and ever so slightly out of tune cover of Love Buzz. It’s not great but they’re getting there and in a few months they’ll be playing it infront of people and calling themselves something like “Plastic Glass” and people will be jumping up and down. Teenage girls will be adoring them and soon they’ll be writing their own tunes.
Keep walking
Now you come to a house with no net curtain. Inside there’s a large tv and around it three young adults, one of them has what looks like a microphone in his hand, another has something resembling a stratocaster (it even says Fender on the headstock but you can’t see that from the street) and the other is sat behind what looks like half a drumkit but somehow.. not quite. Then as images appear on the screen they start what looks like a game of make believe and dance around as if they’re pretending to be the band that made the music on the game. Never mind they didn’t write it, never mind that they don’t know how to REALLY play but they are going to pretend they did. After three and a half excruciating minutes of watching these people pretend (just be grateful the kids in this house aren’t into it enough to dress up too) they do a little excited jump – perhaps even a little chest bump – and celebrate that they got enough points to unlock another song.
Now if people continue to do this instead copying songs at the first place you stopped.. how will music get made? Where will the soundtracks for your Let’s Make Pretend Game come from?! If you ask me, the only difference between Rock Band/ Guitar Hero and the old Harry Enfield sketch of Tim Nice-But Dim rocking out with his tennis racket to Dire Strait’s Sultans of Swing is that his racket wasn’t actually shaped like a little plastic fucking pretend guitar and could do something useful like.. play tennis.
Hell it’s getting so bad that bands are actually releasing their songs ONLY via these games.
I understand the doing things you can’t do in real life ethos – hell I bought the GTA games because I found it hard to nail a prostitute, shoot her to get my money back then take on the Colombian cartel in real life. But anyone can learn an instrument. I guarantee that anyone could at least learn three chords.
So yeah, if you wanna know what it’s like to be a gangster and rape and pillage then by all means by a game but if you want to know what it’s like to play guitar, buy one. You can pick em up cheap enough. Hell I have an old one I’ll sell ya! If you want to get the rock band experience find a couple of friends that play instruments – not fucking toy ones – and play with them. Trust me, it kicks arse.
Plus you can never do anything as fun as this with your little playstation guitars:
there’s just not enough buttons or.. what are those things called?? STRINGS!
while readers of a keen ear and eye should cast their eyes to the blogroll on the right where you will see the link to my previously promised sister-blog: My Essential Albums.
The list is done, all that remains is the ranking process – said in true Life of Brian-ese
Madonna: stop it. Jesus, it’s like having your nan hit on you.
