meish dot org: life, unfolding

Because my iPhone doesn’t hold all my music, just some of it, I often find myself these days having to listen to stuff a few times in a day, because of going through a playlist in particularly heavy rotation.

Among others, I’ve been listening to U2′s Lemon today, and perhaps it’s a result of having particularly good headphones or something, but I can’t help but hear – and focus on – an unmistakable squeaking percussive noise, about once a second, starting at about 20″ in:

It doesn’t seem to be in precise time, and it sounds like a squeaky floorboard, which leads me to the inevitable conclusion/mental image that Bono, Adam Clayton or one of the other boys was recording his part while sitting in a rocking chair on a porch or something. Or a cicada got caught in the studio.

Listen to it and tell me it’s not the only thing you can hear. Distracting!

There is a theory that there is a certain kind of music soundtrack which is perfectly suited for being in an aeroplane. I concur – when you’re at 40,000ft, you need something to keep you relatively soothed and yet also stimulated, to stop you going out of your mind from boredom. Plus whatever you listen to needs to have a particular kind of tonality to compensate for the low bass rumble of the engines.

So on planes, I have an playlist which includes some Philip Glass, Faure’s Requiem, DJ Shadow, The Postal Service, The Necks and a bit of Brian Eno (and/or Gavin Bryars) for good measure. There are a few other tracks which I’ve found work particularly well in the dreamlike lucid exhaustion state of the redeye.

On a train, however, a different kind of music is needed. See, train travel is rhythmic, even in these days when engines don’t go psssscht-uh-cfff psssscht-uh-cfff. Something about the tangible speed, of things whizzing past the window, requires a sort of music which is much more driven, urgent, even.

I’ve spent a lot of time on trains recently. Yes, there’s the twice daily commute route, which whizzes (well, crawls) me through some of south west London’s most desireable(?) areas, but what I’m talking about here are trains. Real trains, not buses on rails, which go long distances, and allow you to stare out of the window while the landscape slips by and get a bit lost in your own head. That’s what I’m talking about.

In the last few months, I’ve visited family, friends or attended events in the western isles (9-10 hours by train), the Welsh marches (3-4 hours), the Cotswolds (2 hours) Swindon and Oxfordshire (about the same), the Northeast (3 hours), Yorkshire (2.5 hours), Leicester (2 hours), and Brighton (1.5 hours). Some of these journeys, I’ve done a number of times.
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Because every pivotal scientific moment needs a soundtrack.

1. Black Hole Sun – Soundgarden
2. Ray of Light – Madonna
3. Supermassive Black Hole – Muse
4. It’s the end of the world as we know it (I feel fine) – R.E.M
5. You spin me round (like a record) – Dead or Alive (et al)
6. Songs from the black hole EP – Weezer
7. The tunnel song – trad
8. Intergalactic Proton Song – Family Guy
9. Lazer Beam – Super Furry Animals
10. Quark, Strangeness & Charm – Hawkwind
11. Dark Matter – Johnny Berliner
12. Supercollider – Fountains of Wayne
13. Until the End of the World – U2
14. 2 Atoms in a Molecule – Noah and the Whale

(in progress – add your suggestions in the comments)

Challenged by m’colleague Neil to reveal what I’ve been consuming, media-wise this week, I am delighted to flash my digital hem, as it were, particularly because it affords me the parallel opportunity to apologise for being AWOL since before Christmas. I’ve been away, you see, and as a result, my media consumption for the past week has been a bit different in many ways to what I might otherwise have consumed.

What I read
Despite not being in the office (or perhaps because of it), I’ve enjoyed reading the paper: The Guardian, of course and particularly enjoyed the NYE quiz special edition of G2 – I got further with King Williams College Quiz than in previous years (i.e. managed to answer a whole 23 questions), and the general quiz of the year kept me guessing for at least a few pots of tea. But since I’ve been up in Scotland for a few days, I’ve also been reading The Oban Times (which is handy for broader local news as well as the cult-reading that is D Morisson’s weekly roundup of Scalpay news) as well as Round And About Mull, the monthly island paper, for local perspective (i.e. in order to understand the contexts of what many local conversations are about).

In addition, I flicked through the Birmingham Airport free magazine (called Destinations, I think) and had a saunter through both The Herald and The Daily Record in the BA lounge this afternoon, though I don’t think we can really count that as reading. Oh, and I read an article about the Isle of Mull Weavers at Ardalanish, which featured in Country Life of all things, which my mum had borrowed from a friend. I swear I didn’t read anything else in there, though.

I also dipped into Utopian Dreams by Tobias Jones, which I’d heard snatches of when serialised on Radio 4, but found a copy of at my mum’s house. But managed not to touch the book I took up with me for holiday reading (A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon) until the train/plane today, because I was so busy. Busy relaxing, of course…

What I watched
Not a right lot. This is basically because my mum doesn’t have a television. However, in the few days I was in Shropshire at the end of last week, I saw The History Boys on the BBC, and the news. On DVD, I watched a couple of episodes of Coast 2 with my mum (showing her how to watch DVDs on new laptop) and after dinner with some friends on the Ross of Mull, An Inconvenient Truth, which I’d somehow managed to miss. And on New Year’s Day, when particularly hungover, I took the laptop back to bed and watched Dara O’Briain’s live solo standup gig via the streaming version of iPlayer. And let me tell you, for that alone, I *heart* the BBC.

I singularly failed to watch either of the DVDs I carried around with me because they’d just arrived from Lovefilm before I set off on my travels – The Magicians and The Lives of Others. Maybe this weekend – could make for a slightly random double bill…

What I listened to
Being in a rather (how can I put this politely?) radio-wave-light area, radio didn’t feature too hugely in my daily audio diet, but I did manage to receive Radio 4 (sort of) when driving across the island yesterday, and used the BBC’s Listen Again to catch up on news from R4.

Musically-speaking, I listened (with my dad) to some Peter Skellern, a lot of Bach, some Ella Fitzgerald and a bunch of 1950s Trinidadian London Calypso and (with my mum) to Julie Fowlis’ excellent Cuilidh album, plus Kate Rusby’s Awkward Annie, among others. On my ipod, I continued to plough my way through the This American Life archives (from about 1999), mainly. I didn’t listen to much music via ipod, really, which is odd for me.

What I surfed
Given that I’ve been away, a lot of my normal surfing patterns were disrupted, and so any surfing fell into two distinct classes: Maintenance (which included Gmail, Twitter, Netvibes and Flickr) and Random Weird Shit (which included ebay searching for sonic mouse deterrents for a friend of mum’s, Nestoria property porn and the official rules of shinty). When I could (and it wasn’t often) I used my phone to keep up with twitter and gmail. I used the web to create, though – both within flickr and for the local community on Mull following the annual Hogmanay Shinty on the beach shenanigans.

….and finally, though this wasn’t in the original meme: What I played
I can’t let an opportunity go by without mentioning Peggle (and specifically, Peggle for iPod) which kept my thumbs occupied for much of the journeying. I also played a lot of cards: Shithead, mostly.

I know I’m supposed to tag someone with this meme, though I don’t want anyone to feel under pressure, especially this early in the year. So, um, feel free to share what you’ve been consuming (if you want), Caroline, Tom, Gordon, Cliff and Wendy. Or don’t. It’s all gravy.

So every day on my way home I pass by the Hammersmith Apollo gig venue. And at least one day in three, pretty much, there’s a different band (or comedian) on.

But I don’t actually get to see the front of the Apollo until the bus pulls out of the bus station. So before that, between the tube and the bus, I get to see hoardes of people swarming the underground station, on their way to the gig, or picking up some refreshment (a sandwich and a neon alcopop, usually) from the Tesco Metro before they go in.

And as a result, every day I have a little guessing game for myself, in which I try to figure out who’s playing that night, before the answer is revealed, splashed across the marquee of the venue, or by a tout hissing the act name at me, whichever comes first.

Some nights are really easy, some are a bit harder. But I have, on occasion, scribbled a quick description in my notepad of the people hanging around, as well as the act they were there to see.

See if you can match the act with the description of its live fans, remembering that some descriptions may apply to several bands. Most nights it’s actually fairly easy. There are the occasional red herrings…

1. Lots of men with longish and/or thinning hair, tight jeans, scuffed trainers and black t-shirts now faded to greenish grey, most of which have teeny writing on the back revealing gig dates long past, accompanied by a few women with shaggy hair and tight jeans.
2. Your mum.
3. Teenagers who have obviously come in from school, changed out of their school uniforms, and then changed into outfits which look like a St Trinian’s version of school uniforms (all ripped shirts with writing on and fat ties), with hair in bunches.
4. Thirty- or forty-something men wearing sports jackets and trainers with slightly innappropriate hair, accompanied by women with long hair.
5. Teenagers/twenty-somethings wearing acid-bright boob-tubes and/or shorts, trainers, ballgowns, shiny hair and plastic jewellery.
6. Older couples, usually her dragging him, and groups of late twenty-something women, having a girly night out, at least one of whom will be wearing a feather boa.
7. Twelve year olds in glittery boob-tubes, heels, makeup and straightened hair.
8. Thirty-something men with slight beer paunches, in shirts, with women who’ve come straight from work. Mostly dates.
9. Twenty-something white women with tight tops and jeans, accompanied by male companions who look as if they’ve been dragged along.
10. Thirty- and forty-something black women, wearing swathes of man-made fibres and metallic makeup
11. Students, and people who look like students. Many t-shirts.
12. Everyone in layers of black, possibly with purple, including bountiful hair dye, nail polish and makeup, on everyone. Boys with short hair have it slicked up and forward at impossible angles. Girls with long hair have it tied up in knots. There are platform boots with metallic bits on them, backpacks shaped like cuddly toys (possibly with eyes removed), and everyone’s drinking alcopops, especially those under 19. Most people in small groups. Some lone men (well, boys) who look a bit sad and yet also a bit punchy.

1. Beyonce
2. Ricky Gervais
3. Lily Allen
4. Sir Elton John
5. Slipknot OR Marilyn Manson OR Suicide Crotch Vom
6. Paul Weller
7. Metallica OR AC/DC OR Whitesnake.
8. Ross Noble
9. Busted
10. Alexander O’Neal
11. Goo-Goo Dolls
12. Bryan Adams

I have a problem.

Ever since I caught his live performance of this song at V festival (on the box – I wasn’t there), I’ve had Mika’s Grace Kelly song stuck in my head.

Except.

Somehow, in my head, I’ve transferred it to be about Ruth Kelly, which makes it into a whole different song…

Do I attract you?
Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?
Am I too dirty?
Am I too flirty?
Do I like what you like?

I could be wholesome
I could be loathsome
I guess I’m a little bit shy
Why don’t you like me?
Why don’t you like me without making me try?

I try to be like Ruth Kelly
But all her looks were too sad
So I try a little Freddie
I’ve gone identity mad!

I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don’t you like me?
Why don’t you like me?

When you put it like that, it’s like some sort of campaign trail desperate re-election plea.

I could be more conservative! I could play the environment card! I could be tough on crime and tough on the causes of crime! Whatever you want! Please vote for me! Pleeeease!

So, for the last few weeks, I’ve had a fragment of a pastiche song lyric floating in my head as I sit idly on the tube, but haven’t managed to get any further with it.

In the spirit of harnessing our collective wisdom/crowd-sourcing, I thought maybe you might be able to help.

The tune: Coldplay’s In My Place (video link)

The lyrics so far:

On MySpace, On MySpace
Were contacts I couldn’t erase
Just get lost
Oh yeah

Well, I said I hadn’t got very far.

Over to you.

I went to see La Môme (La Vie en Rose), the acclaimed Edith Piaf biopic, this weekend.

On the positive side:

• Leading actress Marion Cotillard was very good, managing to not only span four decades but also various physical and mental states during the film. Her approach to the character was embodied, in everything she did, and that made her engaging to watch.
• The girl sure knows how to lip-synch along to vocal performances. Kudos for that – it’s easy to look fake (see Top of The Pops in days gone by for that) but hard to not just match the pace but also the breathing.

However, on the negative side…

• …about half the film consisted of the Piaf character shrieking at her various companions at a pitch that set my teeth on edge
• I don’t think I can listen to Piaf again – the film sort of spoilt the music for me, being so completely bound up with her character, which painted her as essentially a very nasty piece of work.
• …and in fact, I couldn’t sleep when I got home from the cinema because I had the most godawful earworm of “je ne regrette rien” which went round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round in my head until dawn when I managed to drop off with headphones jammed in my ears, listening to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan on my iPod.
• While Cotillard apparently went to great lengths to embody the character of Piaf – shaving her eyebrows and her hairline, there were points at which the prosthetic eyebrows (used for young Edith) threatened to overtake the acting. Extreme close-ups do that.
• The film jumped about all over the place in time, lacking an overall narrative structure, which made it confusing and a bit irritating to follow. Or, to put it another way: an overall place in time, lacking a structure, which made it the confusing narrative film about the irritating bit and jumped over all to follow.
• There’s a very fine line between emotive facialising and gurning. There were at least a few moments when I thought that we were about to see some Al Jolson -style expressions. Hard to know how much of that was Piaf, though.
• There was an awful lot of assumed knowledge. I found myself constantly wondering who people were, how they related to each other, and whether something was important or not.
• Weird lingering focus/emphasis on certain bits of the story, later revealed to add not much to the whole narrative. So detailed, in-depth exposition of her childhood, illnesses, parent-substitutes and so on, and then…no further mention. Just seemed odd, is all. See also: showing practically an entire boxing match in the middle of it.
• Way, way too long. Seriously.

So in 2001, I wrote a post about how you could recreate your very own Glastonbury festival experience in the comfort of your own home.

Given that six and a half years have passed, and things have moved on a bit, and in honour of the festival’s arrival this weekend, I thought it might be worth looking at updating it again. So, building on the previous post, and without further ado, here’s

DIY GLASTONBURY 2007

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Picture the scene: I’m walking down the street, or sitting on the bus, minding my own business and listening to my iPod, through headphones.

Then a song comes on, and I have an almost uncontrollable urge to bust a move, right there, despite the fact that

a) no-one else can hear the music
b) the song is naff or otherwise cheesy
c) I can’t dance.

Some of the songs that have made me do this recently:

1. Michael Jackson – Billie Jean
2. Starship – We Built This City
3. Mittwa from the film Lagaan
4. Dexy’s Midnight Runners – Come on Eileen
5. Cheb Mami & K Mel – Parisien du Nord
6. Level 42 – Something About You
7. Delinquent Habits – Return of the Tres
8. Groove Armada – Superstylin’
9. Orquesta de la Luz – Salsa Caliente del Japón
10. Cake – Love You Madly

There’s something about some songs – the beat? the bass? the pace? – which is just infectious and gets under my skin, into my shoes, making me want to wiggle or walk in time, or pop a shoulder wave, or get the whole bus station suddenly erupting in Bollywood-esque formation dancing, shopping bags and all.

I never do, though.

Well, almost never.

Which songs make you want to dance in the middle of the street?