Despite doodling on acoustic guitar in rare moments, I'm not a musician. It takes more dedication, over many years, than I could tolerate and I wouldn't be happy with just being a doodler. And then there's the instrument; what would I choose? The guitar is an easy choice but then you hear Miles and you wish it was the trumpet, or with Joe Morello, the drums! Each instrument has its own beauty.
In this short film, Toumani Diabaté introduces the kora. Can you imagine a sweeter sound coming from an instrument made from a vegetable? No.
Monday 30 August 2010
Friday 27 August 2010
a borrower be
Support your local library. Before they cut it.Even though our numbers are falling, I'm proud to be in that number. I've found a new use for my membership - CD rentals(and I've also spied some interesting foreign films on the racks). For £1 a week (or just 50p if returned within 24hours) I borrowed a copy of Tuesday Wonderland, by Esbjorn Svensson Trio. I've been listening to it at work. Wonderful, even though it's not Tuesday. This band has often been cited as the future of Jazz, or Europe's best Jazz group. But I'm sad that I shall never get to see them when I consumate my new found love affair with Scandinavia. Esbjorn died in 2008, aged 44, whilst scuba diving.
Also from the library, I'm currently into the Best of McSweeney's Vol. 2. A collection of modern American short stories. So far these have been fabulous little gems; some mysterious (think Twilight Zone) and some very funny. The McSweeney's website also looks fun, but not intuitively explorable. At least I'm struggling, but I'm specifically trying to find the stories and there's nothing to say there are any. There's a page of lists though, some of which are quite funny.
Also this week, and not a long bus ride from the spirit of McSweeney's is the brand new culture superblog, The Dabbler. Today's post is from Frank Keys, (Hooting Yard) on the poem, Jubilate Agno, by Christopher Smart (1722-1771 ). Essentially it's a list pairing a biblical hero with a named critter, some familiar, some absurd, so that hero can praise God with said beast. It's a shocking three hours long but you can hear it all here. It's worth at least a quarter of an hour. I put in about 20 minutes and then fast-forwarded - I think it's safe to say the best bit is at the beginning.
I think that's all. Back to E.S.T....
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Mrs. Schrödinger goes for a stroll
The video says it all.
Or does it?
It's disturbing the amount of CCTV there is about. Now I don't wish to draw fatuous comparison's with Orwell's 1984 but when I read that book in my youth, and got to the part where the sweethearts thought they'd escaped the prying eyes of state only to find microphones hidden in the hedgerows, I thought, how awful! And all the things I got up to as a kid, unobserved.
Or does it?
It's disturbing the amount of CCTV there is about. Now I don't wish to draw fatuous comparison's with Orwell's 1984 but when I read that book in my youth, and got to the part where the sweethearts thought they'd escaped the prying eyes of state only to find microphones hidden in the hedgerows, I thought, how awful! And all the things I got up to as a kid, unobserved.
Sunday 22 August 2010
tick-tock
For about a couple of years between my late teens and mid twenties I never carried a watch. I don't remember whether my old watch broke or was lost but I didn't have enough enthusiasm to shop for a replacement. Then I found I could get along fine without one. Generally, I'd work out the time to the nearest hour intuitively, and if on rarer occasions I needed more accurate time I'd simply seek out a clock or the kindness of strangers.
The reason I think of this now is because I've just read an article in response to old news that using technology makes you stupid. The article refutes the claim though I wasn't convinced, and I wonder how my life would be without media technology (gratuitous use thereof, obviously. I'm not suggesting that if ever I should face a life-threatening situation where safety required the assistance of technology, I should decline it on principle). It's safe to say, I think, that certain tasks seemed more meaningful before technology saved time and labour. And made us stupid because now any fool can do it, can't they?
These days I'm a watch wearing conformist, but every once in a while, I try to tell, not guess, the time of day intuitively. Rarely am I out by more than half an hour, more frequently correct within a quarter of an hour. I ask you, how accurate do we need to be?
The reason I think of this now is because I've just read an article in response to old news that using technology makes you stupid. The article refutes the claim though I wasn't convinced, and I wonder how my life would be without media technology (gratuitous use thereof, obviously. I'm not suggesting that if ever I should face a life-threatening situation where safety required the assistance of technology, I should decline it on principle). It's safe to say, I think, that certain tasks seemed more meaningful before technology saved time and labour. And made us stupid because now any fool can do it, can't they?
These days I'm a watch wearing conformist, but every once in a while, I try to tell, not guess, the time of day intuitively. Rarely am I out by more than half an hour, more frequently correct within a quarter of an hour. I ask you, how accurate do we need to be?
Thursday 19 August 2010
stickmen at atom
Over at the opposite end of the spectrum from BFI resides Atom Films. I'm not sure where Atom Films' films come from - country of origin, pro or am, small or big time - but they're certainly and consistently well-polished works; a cut above average youtube fare. Having said that, I remember them when they used to be better. Oh well, I expect someone at Atom had to do a necessary exercise in ''progress''.
Yesterday, I saw a clip for a programme which featured an aged writer who I didn't recognise saying something about all stories being essentially about death. That's funny, and very reassuring, because up until then I thought I must be developing a peculiar taste in literature - everyone seemed to be, whether literally or metaphorically, dying.
Is animation dead, and the wonder of it dying? Technology guilty, murder one? Here's a ghost of cartoon past,
Yesterday, I saw a clip for a programme which featured an aged writer who I didn't recognise saying something about all stories being essentially about death. That's funny, and very reassuring, because up until then I thought I must be developing a peculiar taste in literature - everyone seemed to be, whether literally or metaphorically, dying.
Is animation dead, and the wonder of it dying? Technology guilty, murder one? Here's a ghost of cartoon past,
Monday 16 August 2010
monday morning blue
A week off work starts today and by 9 o'clock I've had a run, walked the dog, cut my hair, shit, shaved and showered, and fit to go. And the sun is shining in a pale blue sky. The forecast said rain all week, but it also said sunshine yesterday which we didn't get. It's not that you can't trust British weather, you just can't trust Britain's weather forecasters. Speaking for myself, the weather's okay. Elsewhere it can be tragic or very boring.
At the time of the badgers incident I was being played a tape of the Jersey Boys, Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Now, I'm not a fan of all that high-pitched harmony but this one song shone through. It sounded familiar, like all good songs do even if you haven't heard them before. I didn't catch the name so I had an awful time on Youtube looking for it amongst the squeals. Here it is, Beggin', and it includes a video-edit by a fine-looking gentleman called pilooski, and an animator by the name of Cyriak. There's a touch of the Gilliams about it, and there's nothing wrong with that.
Now, it's a curious fact that Scandinavians speak better English than anyone else - including the English. It's also possible that they're creating the best music for the 21st century only we're not noticing it yet. Look around. Anyway, if you quite liked Beggin' but felt it could've been somewhat earthier, try Madcon - Europe's biggest hip-hop duo. From Norway. Theirs comes with a blaxploitation parody which is both funny and sexy, if that's your bag, man. Why not?
At the time of the badgers incident I was being played a tape of the Jersey Boys, Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Now, I'm not a fan of all that high-pitched harmony but this one song shone through. It sounded familiar, like all good songs do even if you haven't heard them before. I didn't catch the name so I had an awful time on Youtube looking for it amongst the squeals. Here it is, Beggin', and it includes a video-edit by a fine-looking gentleman called pilooski, and an animator by the name of Cyriak. There's a touch of the Gilliams about it, and there's nothing wrong with that.
Now, it's a curious fact that Scandinavians speak better English than anyone else - including the English. It's also possible that they're creating the best music for the 21st century only we're not noticing it yet. Look around. Anyway, if you quite liked Beggin' but felt it could've been somewhat earthier, try Madcon - Europe's biggest hip-hop duo. From Norway. Theirs comes with a blaxploitation parody which is both funny and sexy, if that's your bag, man. Why not?
Thursday 5 August 2010
Momo Wandel Soumah and Jason Bua
Hey, it's time to listen to some laid back and rolling Guinea blues.
I love this sound but really it was the slideshow of art that caught my attention. I think, mostly if not all, by Jason Bua. Anyone know anything about him?
I love this sound but really it was the slideshow of art that caught my attention. I think, mostly if not all, by Jason Bua. Anyone know anything about him?
Wednesday 4 August 2010
old fart-lek
Following what seemed at the time like an interminable series of illnesses and injuries I’m glad to be back on track, running. It might be early days but I’m pleased to be able to say I run again, and this time I have the dog as my jogging buddy. Though it might not feel it at the time when I’m bowling along, afterwards, having run, and retaining the confidence that you really can run, it gives me a great sense of being and achievement; it’s liberating, both physically and mentally. Thinking about it, I do get it when I’m actually running, providing the humidity and the sun aren’t too high. Fleet of foot, the wind in the hair (some chance), that kind of thing. Superb.
To ease myself back in I’ve adopted my own interpretation of Fartlek which I’ll probably call old fart-lek. Basically, this is a Swedish training method and simply translates as Speed-Play. In practice in involves breaking up a long run into a series of shorter ones varying in effort, anything from, say, walking fast to sprinting flat out. The pace and duration of each leg designed to suit the individual and to allow for brief periods of stress followed by recovery while continuously moving. I’m sure there’s more to the science than I’ve explained but it’s a fun way, and a good way, to run. Blinding.
Running with the dog can be a bit comical. A comfortable pace for me is a tad too quick for the dog to walk normally but way too slow for her to trot, so we begin with her walking increasingly fast in a similar way to a cartoon dog, her legs speeding up to a blur until the lead gets tight and she has to give in and break into a casual trot whereby, soon after, the lead gets yanked in the opposite direction and I, with arm stretched out of its socket, get pulled along the road. When we get to the cross-country part, I’ll let her off the lead but this has its funny moments too. A narrow cut in a field of tall grass means we must go single-file but who goes first is a bone of contention. With dog out front, she seems gradually to slow down so I’m constantly worried she’ll just stop to smell something over ripe on the path and I’ll go arse over tit over a sniffing dog. However, if I get in front I feel her wet snout nudging the back of my calves all the way as if she’s telling me to get a bloody shift on, dawg, or move over. But mostly it’s the open lane, with me hacking up sputum owing to a juvenile tonsillectomy, and her panting due to an absence of sweat glands and making it sound like I’m running alongside Thomas the tank engine. Excellent.
I guess that’s f-fa-f-fa-f-fart-lek, folks!
To ease myself back in I’ve adopted my own interpretation of Fartlek which I’ll probably call old fart-lek. Basically, this is a Swedish training method and simply translates as Speed-Play. In practice in involves breaking up a long run into a series of shorter ones varying in effort, anything from, say, walking fast to sprinting flat out. The pace and duration of each leg designed to suit the individual and to allow for brief periods of stress followed by recovery while continuously moving. I’m sure there’s more to the science than I’ve explained but it’s a fun way, and a good way, to run. Blinding.
Running with the dog can be a bit comical. A comfortable pace for me is a tad too quick for the dog to walk normally but way too slow for her to trot, so we begin with her walking increasingly fast in a similar way to a cartoon dog, her legs speeding up to a blur until the lead gets tight and she has to give in and break into a casual trot whereby, soon after, the lead gets yanked in the opposite direction and I, with arm stretched out of its socket, get pulled along the road. When we get to the cross-country part, I’ll let her off the lead but this has its funny moments too. A narrow cut in a field of tall grass means we must go single-file but who goes first is a bone of contention. With dog out front, she seems gradually to slow down so I’m constantly worried she’ll just stop to smell something over ripe on the path and I’ll go arse over tit over a sniffing dog. However, if I get in front I feel her wet snout nudging the back of my calves all the way as if she’s telling me to get a bloody shift on, dawg, or move over. But mostly it’s the open lane, with me hacking up sputum owing to a juvenile tonsillectomy, and her panting due to an absence of sweat glands and making it sound like I’m running alongside Thomas the tank engine. Excellent.
I guess that’s f-fa-f-fa-f-fart-lek, folks!
Tuesday 3 August 2010
on understanding art
Apparently, Robert Frost on being asked what one of his poems meant, replied;
“You want me to say it worse?”
I can imagine it. Wonderful.
“You want me to say it worse?”
I can imagine it. Wonderful.
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