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Confustication de musique


Monday, January 30, 2006

Lately everything has been tainted. Everything. For month upon month. That's made things hard. I wasn't able to portray that to good old Dr Patel. No offence to him but 30 mins each 6 months aint gonna do it. Oddly thought, I tend to feel better after seeing him, maybe it's just the social interaction. In any case, I feel pressurised into 'pulling myself together', lol. Not quite, but almost, threatened. Ho hum.

Still knocked sideways due to the death and suicide attempt as outlined previously. Felt almost resentful as I'd hurt folk when I finally take the plunge, lol.

Any-old-how. I've almost, nearly finished my first track (mp3) in over 2 years in honour of the delightful Miss VV. In addition I nearly attempted to listen to some music. Fuck! Could I possibly regain some modus operani? A meaning to life? Or at least allow music back into my life? Perhaps even believe in myself enought to play/write/record again? Who knows.

Watch this space (apt description of moi)

2006 snogs


posted by Andy 09:31

Desert Island Dissertation


Sunday, January 29, 2006

Shirley Williams was quite engaging today; not necessarily her choice of music, but her mode and content of speech. Assured, measured, warm. Mmmm nice. A bit of a love/hate thing is Desert Island Discs. The theme is iconic and sublime (daa, daa, da-da-daa, daa, daa, da-da-daa, daa, daa, da-da, da, daa. da-da-da-daa)", but on the whole with the remorseless march of time the combination of autobiographical interview, emotion, revelation and soundtrack are poignant and can open one's ears and eyes in many ways. An opportunity for exposure to a musical soundbite can spark an interest to take one on a musical journey of discovery and even a once denigrated and reviled piece can be seen through another's ears (couldn't think of a better description).

So, on balance, a thumb's-up. No the inevitable "however"...



  1. Politicians and some others picking tunes as folk may scatter coffee table literature to project a certain image they deem desirable. This is often patently obvious.
  2. A castaway to whom music is important, has wide ranging tastes and attempts to demonstrate this leading to a disappointing, inchoherent melange.
  3. A similar castaway of catholic taste attempting to illustrate this by choosing a well known, well worn and unsatisfying work from eight extremes.
  4. The programme's time restraint ie. only a 30-60 second snatch available. Many works don't suit a soundbite and lose much in this form out of the context of whole piece, entire album, canon of work, ouevre or zeitgeist.
  5. The inferior version. A recording is chosen that fails to do justice to the music, artist, sentiment or emotion.
  6. The cardinal sin. With the exception of no.1 these may be viewed as irritations, frustrations or limitations of format. The inexcusable? Norman bloody Wisdom!!! His appearance around the turn of the century was torture. The eight records chosen, if memory serves me well, were ALL his own recordings of his own songs! If you haven't heard many of Norman's songs - keep it that way. I will concede that the songs may have merit given a sympathetic orchestration/interpretation, but Norman performs them all himself. Please, please, please don't ever go there! It may scar you for life. But if you really must satisfy your curiosity, here's one of his less emetic offerings.

An edition which stays in my mind featured Betsy Blair, an actress I'd hitherto been unaware of. Her amazing life, engaging personality and entertaining musical choices made for a classic programme.

Radio4 offers a similar programme dealing with prose, poetry and lyric. My admiration for 'With great Pleasure' has taken much longer to mature but provides the same opportunities and reward in the literary field.

All hail the bastion of eclectiscism that is BBC Radio4.

2006 snogs



posted by Andy 12:00

Kiss Of Death


Sunday, January 22, 2006

That's me! At least that's the interpretation my befuddled brain wants to put on things.

This week was in some ways ok, in that I felt a tad better after branding my skin (cutting is so passe) and I also got to have a couple of brief online chats to an old European chum that hasn't had PC access for a good old while. The renewed acquaintance even spurred me on to do more work on a present I'm making for her. Each chat was terminated as she was off to visit her 92 year old grandfather. I learnt that he is due to move into what I assume to be a "home" which is over an hour's journey from the family which is obviously not ideal. I don't know too much about the circumstances as we haven't been able to chat regularly for a year or so but I assume he either lives in his own home or at least is reasonably settled wherever he is. I was on a roll as far as communication goes so I sent a couple of txts into the ether, one being to another European chum who's back in the old country catching up with family and friends.
Cut to Friday, and thoughts of another quick chat with first chum are dashed by receipt of txt telling me Grandfather has cut himself up in an apparent suicide attempt. Cut to early this morning when friend no.2 txts to say her Mother passed away last night (recently diagnosed with cancer).
I know it's stupid and sounds rather self-obsessed and whingey but the above adds fuel to my endogenous belief that the world would be better off without me and indeed my existence is barely tolerated. Everything I touch, even at a distance is destroyed, hurt or tainted.
What to do? What to do?

2006 snogs


posted by Andy 12:30

Second outing of the year


Saturday, January 14, 2006

Not the second blog. Not publicising a public figure's proclivities. No. My second venture out of the flat in 2006.

We have to go back about a week to the day I picked up my prescription (oh the glamour). The festivities (lack of) got me down rather and the addition of a financial penalty from a negligent financial institution together with this immensly irritating and self confidence sapping eczema meant I was not at my best. Nevertheless my mission was accomplished. Unfortunately a total lack of human contact for several weeks tends to lead one on something of a downward psychological spiral and when added to noisy neighbours and the ill-advised mixture of strong alcohol (remnant of the season) with a certain prescription drug on top of a vastly reduced tolerance led me astray. Details are hazy but I ventured upstairs to remonstrate with a neighbour about noisiness. Now I had my suspicions about the guy's links with the whole legal drug-pushing trade (pubs/clubs) which I admittedly found attractive in my youth and these were confirmed when two old style bouncers appeared together with the obligatory guy with penis-extension dog to bounce me unceremoniously down the stairs. I always find it odd that on the rare occasions I flare-up, my 5' 4" frame and perpetual solitary status evoke such a disproportionate response.

On reflection some light might be shed by my childhood social-phobia and perpetual loner-status which evinced something of a "looking mean" coping mechanism that has re-emerged periodically ever since adolesence. Humour of a sort has been added over the years to form a carapace over the frightened, anxious and depressed turtle beneath. Ah, coping mechanisms.. don't you just love 'em?

So I find myself flat on my back on the landing betwixt 3rd and 4th floors, a dog handler's foot on my chest and two bouncers hovering menacingly. Three police-gentlemen appear (lots around my town centre base over the weekend) and proceed to frog-march me not back to my flat but right out of the building and on to the very edge of the town centre itself. Needless to say I eventually found my way unmolested back home.

Yes it's a pattern. Yes alcohol was involved. Yes I take the blame. I have a wonderful talent for gifting a moral advantage to the oppostion in the way Coventry City FC always lost if they went into half-time with a 1 or 2 goal lead. Other talents I possess are self destructiveness. Failure. Gullibility. Inability to form or nurture relationships. Fear of loss. And a debilitating success allergy.

Well, folk are always telling me to make a list of my good points.

2006 snogs


posted by Andy 09:11

Kick him while he's down why don't you?


Friday, January 06, 2006

Or while he's on his way up. Hell, why don't you just kick him any old way?

Charles Kennedy of course. One of the most vile aspects of British politics is the way a guy can be mercilessly bullied until they crack, either politically or personally. If that strategy fails to have the desired effect then brutally mug him.

I confess to always having a soft spot for the Liberals, Alliance and now Liberal democrats. I had and still have great respect for Paddy Ashdown who continues to do important work in the Balkans. Charles Kennedy also has a place in my heart. Not so much for his achievements (though they should not be underestimated); more for his personality, forthrightness and doggedness in pursuit of the meagre rewards available to the vital third party. (Would we really want a two-party university boat race seesaw? Admittedly our central government politics can be likened to the Celtic/Rangers domination of the Scottish Premiership but the Kilmarnocks and Partick Thistles fight and are supported with as much passion and faith and are vital constituent parts of the SPL democracy).

I have my own thoughts, partly based upon first-hand experience as to the personal consequences of performing a difficult, stressful and lonely job under these circumstances but on balance I think I'll keep my counsel.

I wish the guy and his family great happiness and will send him a supportive e-mail. You might like to as well.

2006 snogs


posted by Andy 09:02