When is too many, too many?

Thursday, July 21, 2011 ~ 1 comment so far

When is too many, too many?, originally uploaded by Gordon.

I may have a problem.

In this photo there are 11 sets of headphones.

• 3 – Sony MDR-ED 21LP
• 1 – Apple iPhone set, with inline mic
• 1 – generic headset with mic
• 1 – Sennheiser PX100
• 1 – Sennheiser PX200
• 1 – Sennheiser EH1430
• 1 – Sennheiser PMX70
• 1 – Griffin Tunebuds
• 1 – a-JAYS Three

I have a further 2 sets of generic iPod (white) headphones, and one set of Bose In Ear headphones which I use at work.

That’s 14 sets of headphones.

Fourteen.

FOURTEEN!

Update: I started writing this post mid-tidy up of some boxes full of cables, about 10 mins after publishing I’ve finished the tidy and found… another set of headphones (silver versin of the Sony MDR-ED 21LP).

FIFTEEN FRICKIN’ SETS OF HEADPHONES!!

I need help.

Anyone wanna buy a set of headphones from me?

Always with the music

Friday, July 16, 2010 ~ 1 comment so far

For a while now I’ve been toying with attending a certain rather well known music festival. Highlights on TV are one thing but there isn’t anything quite like experiencing the atmosphere of these things first hand. This is also the reason that, unless there is an extremely good reason, ever attend a gig at the S.E.C.C. as it lacks one of the key components of live music, atmosphere.

I’ve pre-registered myself and will wait the day when tickets go on sale so i can, finally, haul my ass to Glastonbury.

I’m hoping that we’ll have sold the house by then!

Music is an important part of my life, always has been, and one thing I am already considering for when I move and get my own flat, is the location. How close to a reasonable gig venue is it?

I think of heading to the West of Glasgow, the West End preferably as that puts me within walking distance of Oran Mor and will offer me the opportunity to get some cheap (less than a tenner) tickets for gigs by people I might not have heard of. I may be romanticising slightly, of course, but I think it could be quite fun.

And when I go home, I’ll use my iPhone to turn on my Sonos sound system for even more music.

I don’t own it yet though, but I will. It’s crept up the list of “things I will need to buy when I move” and is very near the top, right after things like a bed, a microwave and maybe a sofa.

Mind you, given that I’ll be heading to Glastonbury, I should maybe leave a little room in my budget for a tent (or better still, leave a lot of room in my budget and do it in style!).

I am cool again!

Wednesday, June 2, 2010 ~ 1 comment so far

It’s a revelation to me as well, so I’ll pause to let you digest that juicy title.

*pauses*

OK, so it’s stretching the truth a bit, well a lot, well it’s entirely possible that it’s downright lie but let us move on lest I lose all self-esteem and realise just how far I am from being cool.

Dammit. Too late. Well I guess it’s fair to say that I’m about as cool as a volcano spewing molten lava and ash into the air.

And yes, not only am I not cool but I’m also never ever topical.

So I should really work in some obscure World Cup reference I guess, comparing my innate lack of cool to the composure shown by most English football players when asked to kick the ball 12 yards.

Regardless, let us step back a few hours to the moment my revelation was unveiled to me by one of those printed things you can buy in shops these days. You know the ones, lots and lots of adverts printed on glossy pages, stapled or glued together but which lack any cover of merit. I am, in a most roundabout way, referring to a magazine. Specifically one that I used to buy quite often and which, as I found myself wandering past said magazines, caught my eye once more.

The magazine in question is that veritable tome of music knowledge, Q.

Why not, I thought, and ohh look, it has a free CD of “most exciting new acts” (15 of them, and they are “on the planet” too, which is lucky).

I didn’t really look at much else, as I was running a little late, so I paid for and left with said magazine safely tucked under my arm.

When I got home I had a quick look at the attached CD and it does indeed have 15 tracks from 15 bands that are on this planet but I’m not quite sure they are the most exciting new acts… not anymore at least.

It was at this point I (thought I) realised how cool I am.

Why?

Because of the 15 bands, I’ve got (and have had for several months in most cases) albums by 7 of them, and have seen 2 of them live.

I’m THAT FRICKIN’ COOL!!

The bubble was soon burst though, as the front cover of said magazine was questioning who would ‘win’ at Glastonbury, Muse or U2.

Oh. Right. Published last month then.

And, of course, Q magazine was never, and will never, be cool.

Do you know why?

Because everytime I buy a copy, there is always, ALWAYS, some interview of snippet or other random piece of information about JON BON FUCKING JOVI!!!

Which, and I’m sure you’ll all agree, is really not fucking cool at all.

Morning Music

Thursday, January 7, 2010 ~ 6 comments so far

Radio and I have never really gotten along. It’s mostly my fault. I don’t listen.

badum tish!

Actually, that’s not all that far from the truth. I don’t listen to the radio all that much, it’s just never been a part of any routine. Radio wasn’t a big part of my childhood as it never occurred to me that there might be stations other than those my parents listened to, so for the most part I grew up listening to albums.

The one time I do listen to the radio is in the car on my commute which brings me to my quandary.

What, or more exactly who, should I listen to?

Music wise my tastes lie somewhere between Radio 1 and Radio 2, with Radio Clyde (West of Scotland only) being the closest match (where closest equals “if I have to suffer a mix of chart music”). I’m not a fan of talk shows on the radio, so Radio 4 is out, and Radio Scotland has a jack of all trades approach which just annoys me.

Of course we are only talking about when I’m driving to and from work so I need to find a breakfast show and a drivetime show that I can tolerate.

With Chris Evans moving to the breakfast slot on Radio 2, it seems like there will finally be something decent to listen to of a morning in the car. His evening show was pretty interesting and musically a reasonable fit to my tastes. He’s much less grating on the radio than on TV and as the alternatives are Chris Moyles (Radio 1) or George Bowie (on Radio Clyde), well it’s a no-brainer.

But what of drivetime? Simon Mayo on Radio 2? Puhleeze, there is more personality in a toe-nail clipping. Scott Mills on Radio 1, inane chatter, that whole “off of” bollocks and his playlists always seem to favour the current, most annoying, manufactured tripe. Radio Clyde seems to be where this is heading, which at least gives me local traffic reports but means I have to endure the latest greatest Scottish slang… ohh yeah, and adverts.

And yes, I could just chuck in a CD, but my other half and I don’t share musical tastes, so perhaps the ultimate option is just to switch it off.

What do you do?

MNTKOT*

Monday, December 21, 2009 ~ 3 comments so far

I can remember the first time I heard it, in the Clyde Bar in Helensburgh. Raw, explosive, vitriolic and, to my 17yr old ears, a spitting hammer blow through my music collection.

I bought the CD that weekend and as soon as I got home, rushed up to my room, closed the door (I’m not THAT rebellious), put it in the stereo and turned it up loud.

Thumping bass notes, screeching guitar and THAT refrain.

FUCK YOU, I WON’T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME!!

As a track it still has enough raw energy and youthful (misguided) attitude to remain an anthem to many an angsty, angry, acne-ridden youth, and through the “power of the internet” it’s now the Christmas number 1 for 2009.

And yes, I bought it. And yes I’m glad I did.

Not because of any “sticking it to the man” sympathies, as many have pointed out, Sony own both record labels so they win either way.

Not to get at X-Factor per se, as it at least drives me to source other forms of music and find richer seams of pleasure away from the (mostly) manufactured crap that peppers the charts.

Not (just) because, musically, I much prefer a good bit of noisy rock to yet another ballad.

And definitely not to “get at Joe”, who seems wholly likable and sounds a bit like Neil Sedaka to me and that’s no bad thing (really, it’s not).

Nope, I mainly just to placate that tiny piece of me that remains rebellious, the bit that gets tattoos. To have a small amount of “fuck it” in my life, to get away from the tensions and strains of being an adult.

That’s really all there is to it.

So I’m not really raging against the machine, more *mildly not too keen on the thingmabob.

Curious Daylight

Sunday, December 6, 2009 ~ 1 comment so far

I’ve spent most of the evening retagging MP3s in my iTunes library in an effort to get them all cleaned up. I tried this with a bit of software before but it did more damage than good so I’m just slowly working my way through by hand and, as it turns out, it’s quite fun for no other reason than it is allowing me to revisit some music I’ve not played for ages.

It’s also kicking off a bit of nostalgia at times as well, as I pick over different eras in my music taste, particularly when I stumbled across an old Kevin McDermott Orchestra album which I played so much the CD started to wear through!

There was a time, in my late teens, when I was heavily into the Scottish music scene, Simple Minds, Love & Money, The Silencers, The Humpff family and Del Amitri, and given that I was ‘growing up’ at that point it’s fair to say that a lot of the lyrical content seemed to resonate deeply with me.

Now I’m not saying that any of the aforementioned bands were particularly adept at song writing but remember, I was a bag of hormones and emotions so even the simplest line of melancholy had me proclaiming it as the best song EVER.

However what took me by surprise, as I flicked through some of the tracks, was how deeply they STILL resonate. One perfect example is on the Kevin McDermott album, Bedazzled, a track called Curious Daylight:

I hope this song makes sense tomorrow,
My words keep falling on the floor,
It’s nearly dawn and soon I’ll follow,
It’s time you helped me to the door.

So now we know that something’s wrong.
We’ve been on this ship too long.

I can’t wait, til we’ve got it made,
I can’t wait, til we turn the tide,
I can’t wait, cos I see everything,
and it sure looks strange in this curious daylight.

Wish we could talk about the weather,
Fall asleep and wake as friends,
but I can’t talk about forever,
and I’m the villain once again.

We’re getting further from the shore,
but I’ve sailed this sea before.

But I can’t wait, til we’ve got it made,
I can’t wait, til we turn the tide,
I can’t wait, cos I see everything,
and it sure looks strange in this curious daylight.

Though I need you more than ever,
Because the cards I have are always wild,
I’m trying to keep this ship together,
so try to understand the thankless child.

I don’t expect to be forgiven,
There’re things that I could never be,
No well intentioned break upon the shores of heaven,
No endless refuge.

I’ve been on this ship so long,
and I’ve never felt this strong,
Now I can’t wait, til we’ve got it made,
I can’t wait, til we turn the tide,
I can’t wait, cos I see everything,
and it sure looks strange in this curious daylight.

Nothing special, for sure, but it still made me stop and sit back and just listen to the music. Not something I do all that often, and it evoked a powerful set of memories, of people and places, laughter and tears.

It also reminds me that memories, good ones, are very important and I should try harder not to leave them to tarnish.

Fatefully conspired against

Friday, September 25, 2009 ~ 2 comments so far

I have returned from my time in Derby. It has been an eventful and exciting week in many ways and yet, despite my best laid plans, fate decided to remind me of my position in the universe.

As I mentioned previously I was travelling down to Derby (Mickleover to be precise) where I was attending a conference at which I was delivering a presentation entitled “Why Blog?” (you can see my slides and notes on my other blog. I’ve presented at something similar once, and considering the topic I was reasonably comfortable with my knowledge of the subject matter. I’ll be writing more about the conference on my other blog, although some of the cognitive psychology stuff will probably fall here too, it’s fascinating!

As I was in the area, it transpired that, after many years of reading him and recently delighting at watching him dance on the plinth in Trafalgar Square, I would finally meet the Troubled Diva (aka mike) himself. All good. THEN he said that I’d also be able to shake hands with, and congratulate on his recent half-marathon (for which he helped raise over £3k!) the only and only SwissToni well I was delighted. THEN he mentioned that Sarah would there as well, and as she was one of many Tweeps that shared the delight of the pointy fingered dancing on the plinth that evening well it was looking like a nice evening.

THEN they mentioned we’d be seeing a gig by a Norwegian band named Ungdomskulen and… yeah.. I wasn’t sure. As it turns out they were good, big and noisy and a little “prog”, although the CD that I purchased after the gig is a lot … hmmm … more indie sounding than the live act.

Anyway my over-elaborated point is that I had several reasons to be excited about my trip.

The journey down on Tuesday evening was uneventful and very short, flying from Glasgow to East Midlands airport (the cheapest option!) was all of 40 minutes, and the first day of the conference nicely played out along the theme I was using as part of my presentation on blogging first thing on the second day (the whole “be part of the conversation” thing, you know).

Roll on Thursday morning, the second day of the conference and at 9am I stepped up and 35 minutes later I finished, took 5 minutes for a few questions and ended bang on time. I missed one or two little things but hey ho, it went very well from my side and a few people spoke to me afterwards saying they had enjoyed it so it seems to have been well received. The video of the presentation will never ever see the light of day. I had to kill the A/V guy after my session to make sure, so apologies to any dog-walkers in Mickleover who stumble over the body of a young man, strangled by several microphone cords.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur and all of a sudden I’m in Derby and heading towards the building where all the noise was coming from, and next thing I’m shaking hands with three people who I don’t know but have known (collectively) for many many years. Fab! It also whittles down my list of “bloggers to meet” to around 4 or 5 (no, no names). I originally thought the number lower but well you lot are just too fab.

Alas the excitement had to end so this very morning at something around 4.50am I woke up and not being able to get back to sleep got up and started the last of the packing. I jumped in the taxi when it arrived (late) and by the time I got to the airport (including 2 trips round one roundabout!) I was a little tight for time.

I grabbed a paper (The Guardian in which Mike had an article), a coffee and hustled to Gate 23.

Sidenote: There is a sign in Derby airport that states how far gates 18-23 are, 180m from the sign apparently. Now, whilst I can, now, figure out roughly how long that may take me to walk, does anyone else think it odd they didn’t at least have a diagram, or indicate how long it might take someone to walk (1-2 minutes)?? Just me, ok as you were.

At the top of a metal escalator as I reached down to grab my bag, my foot caught the edge of a step and next thing I know I’ve fallen forward, banging my injured knee (long term, tendinitis), my shin and my arm as I try and keep hold of my coffee, the paper and my luggage. It hurt.

I was very tired, mainly because whilst conferences are great they are intense, as there is a LOT of thinking that goes on both in the sessions and in the chats afterwards, and because I’d spent the previous (very enjoyable!) evening on my feet. I hadn’t had breakfast, and it REALLY fucking hurt. I think it’s the closest I’ve been to crying about falling over since I was a child.

Needless to say the escalator was still moving and a split second later I realised I would have to get up or try and negotiate the end of the stairs and I painfully managed to get to my feet just in time to stagger forward and fall down again.

I’m rather thankful there wasn’t anyone else in sight.

Looking back it seems a bit silly but given that I spent the first 20 minutes of the flight pale, sweating and shaking so much the stewardess stopped to ask if I was ok I guess the adrenaline rush was a little too much for my tired and aching body to cope with.

All that at the end of a wonderful week, meeting interesting people, making new friends, learning new things, enjoying new music and meeting someone I’ve ‘known’ for longer than anyone outside my immediate circle of “real life” friends (they don’t blog, I can call them that). Regardless of all the good things that happened this week, the shock of that simple little trip will be what I recall when I mention the conference or “when I met Mike”, and that, my friends is why I’m feeling mostly conspired against.

So, I’m going to focus on the positives and, as I limp home, remind myself that this was just a little bit of balance, that’s all. Both reminding me that while life can be fantastically good, it can also tip you over. Literally. On a metal escalator in an airport near Derby.