It's been a while since I sat on this doorstep at night, and just listened to the sounds of the countryside and watched the stars move, and the moon change position. I kind of forgot how peaceful it can be out here. I was too hot a little earlier when I went to visit my brother, and realised I'd been wearing my jumper in this amazing heat! This evening was good- my brother and I got to talk properly for the first time in ages. It's good to sit down and chat things over, especially with someone as clear headed as my brother. He always seems to know just how to put something right in order to make it sound like it's the perfect thing to do. He has the best ideas!
Tomorrow is my last day here, and I'm dreading leaving. It's been really idyllic, the weather's been perfect, I've got literally _so_ much work done, and although I've been occasionally irritated by the parents, they haven't been too much of a bane. Perhaps I'll come back before long if I don't get any interviews or more permanent work in Glasgow. I think it's good to be here as long as I know I've got something to go back to, and at the moment I've got the flat and the prospect of some work if I look hard.
Here's the crack. I've made a preliminary decision- not a firm one but I think I might stick with it: to not go to the Hague. Bear with me- stay in Glasgow if I'm offered a job, or wherever else if there's a job in the UK. Then, apply for PhDs in all and every institution within reason, for 2007 (gulp), and then if I'm successful, save up and go travelling for March next year. Please, comments and suggestions here or via my usual email address.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Too hot with a cherry on top
Thursday, June 01, 2006
There's someone at the door
Just received my train tickets for my return journey to Glasgow. I'm going to be spending the whole day on the train, which is more than welcome so I can spend time reading, composing, planning and having a great time generally. Helena has commended me because I'll be saving the environment, well not exactly saving it, but damaging it less than if I took the plane. The next day I'll be meeting someone to discuss a date and the ins and outs of the improvised electronic music gig that I've been trying to get off the ground for approximately a year. So much for promptness. I've been working at learning C++ and OpenGL this week, with half a mind to implementing them in the near future. The problem is that there are two types of interactive interfaces available - the Lemur, which is on the Cycling74 website for an obscene price, and the very much prototype interface which I'd probably have to a) build myself and b) would probably end up costing even more. Not that that would be a problem, since I'd probably have to secure funding to research this topic anyway.
So a little low-down on last week. I met Zanni at the airport. Well, I arrived and sat down somewhere I thought she might be arriving, only to discover there were no flights from Venice coming in that day. Then it slowly dawned on me that somewhere in some communication she's mentioned she would fly into Stansted, but that she's talked about Heathrow in the rest of the emails. So I decide to try to ring. Answermachine. I sit there thinking that all I can do is wait to phone her, so I send a text message to see when she turns her phone on (delivery report). Meanwhile I twiddle my thumbs in the enourmous Heathrow terminal 2. She rang from a payphone a little later and explained her phone had been stolen in Syria, that yes, she did get into Stansted, but that she would be on a bus on her way over shortly. Sigh of relief. We arranged to meet at the tube stop in Heathrow - they have buses, coaches, tubes, trains and taxis at Heathrow. Every possible way you could think of to get out of the place. By far the cheapest and easiest way to get into the quagmire that is London is to take the tube, straight along and into Covent Garden we sailed, and camped outside at a pretty dismal Pastie shop and admired the flocks of pigeons who've obviously discovered the delights of Cornish crumbs. After an expensive lunch I suggested we attempt our journey to Chichester, and we easily got to Victoria and purchased exorbitant train tickets. The journey was smooth, apart from we arrived in Bognor and were told to change, but it's not that far on the bus so we stepped outside into the rain and grey skies and camped at the bus stop, only to find after the bus arrived on time that we were outside the range for the cheaper fare, so it cost us £6 for a five minute bus journey. I think I spent more that day on travel than I've ever done and my wallet certainly felt lighter.
Merston is a dream to walk into, although when there was nothing in the fridge I was only too happy to make a trip to the indian takeaway. The weather brightened a little over the next few days, and we talked about Selva, life, Arabic, Italian vs. English, Crisma, coffee, politics and so many other things I forget. We visited my brother, sister-in-law and niece on Sunday and had a really good time. BBQs ahoy - my brother did a fine job with kebabs, burgers, sausages and all manner of pickles and breads. I feel like having that kind of feast every day. Talking of feasting I'm trying to eat as much as I possibly can while I'm here so that I don't have to worry about starving too much when I get back to Glasgow. I think it'd be good to put on some weight for a change, maybe work it off when I get back, have a fitness regime, a job and some other interests.
For now I'll continue writing the Tango and struggling with Max. Might post a score when I'm done.
So a little low-down on last week. I met Zanni at the airport. Well, I arrived and sat down somewhere I thought she might be arriving, only to discover there were no flights from Venice coming in that day. Then it slowly dawned on me that somewhere in some communication she's mentioned she would fly into Stansted, but that she's talked about Heathrow in the rest of the emails. So I decide to try to ring. Answermachine. I sit there thinking that all I can do is wait to phone her, so I send a text message to see when she turns her phone on (delivery report). Meanwhile I twiddle my thumbs in the enourmous Heathrow terminal 2. She rang from a payphone a little later and explained her phone had been stolen in Syria, that yes, she did get into Stansted, but that she would be on a bus on her way over shortly. Sigh of relief. We arranged to meet at the tube stop in Heathrow - they have buses, coaches, tubes, trains and taxis at Heathrow. Every possible way you could think of to get out of the place. By far the cheapest and easiest way to get into the quagmire that is London is to take the tube, straight along and into Covent Garden we sailed, and camped outside at a pretty dismal Pastie shop and admired the flocks of pigeons who've obviously discovered the delights of Cornish crumbs. After an expensive lunch I suggested we attempt our journey to Chichester, and we easily got to Victoria and purchased exorbitant train tickets. The journey was smooth, apart from we arrived in Bognor and were told to change, but it's not that far on the bus so we stepped outside into the rain and grey skies and camped at the bus stop, only to find after the bus arrived on time that we were outside the range for the cheaper fare, so it cost us £6 for a five minute bus journey. I think I spent more that day on travel than I've ever done and my wallet certainly felt lighter.
Merston is a dream to walk into, although when there was nothing in the fridge I was only too happy to make a trip to the indian takeaway. The weather brightened a little over the next few days, and we talked about Selva, life, Arabic, Italian vs. English, Crisma, coffee, politics and so many other things I forget. We visited my brother, sister-in-law and niece on Sunday and had a really good time. BBQs ahoy - my brother did a fine job with kebabs, burgers, sausages and all manner of pickles and breads. I feel like having that kind of feast every day. Talking of feasting I'm trying to eat as much as I possibly can while I'm here so that I don't have to worry about starving too much when I get back to Glasgow. I think it'd be good to put on some weight for a change, maybe work it off when I get back, have a fitness regime, a job and some other interests.
For now I'll continue writing the Tango and struggling with Max. Might post a score when I'm done.
Funding and the next few days
To say I'm bored would, I think, be a vast understatement. I seem to have spent approximately the last 6 hours staring at website after website dedicated to funding 'talented and creative individuals', but each of which seem to have a clause stating somewhere that 'Josh may not apply' or, more aptly, 'must be aged over 25 and resident in Wales' or 'must be undertaking study related to biochemistry' or 'closing date for applications was yesterday' or something similar. I'm beginning to think that there might not be any body which can offer funding to a UK resident wanting to do study in the Hague. This brings back memories of the scene in the Producers, and the scene in which they take bundles of cheques from the old ladies, lining up to hand them over. I only wish it was as easy as seducing a couple of old dears.
Well, I suppose I should continue the story as I've given away some of it. Saturday was spent exploring the new delights of Manchester's city centre, with part rain and part shine. Will and I talked at length about the production and what I could do, which to be honest at the moment is minimal. He has asked me to go this weekend to move faders while they're recording, but I think it's too much hassle and expense for what could be done easily by someone closer, although it would be great to see the set and meet the crew before they go into production in order to get a feel for what's going on. I found myself referring back to Ennio Morricone because of his inspired and unconventional use of instruments and technique/genre. Talk about prolific output, and quality that doesn't reflect the amount he produced. No wonder he's so much copied and imitated. Just thinking about his music's inspired me to want to create a score for Before/After like nothing else I've done before. The problem here is that I'm a little bit frustrated by the conventional approach to how the film is produced, although I don't see what else could be done. I just hate getting a cut in the post and having to write around it with a script in hand, it seems too straightforward, although arguably one works best that way. Crisma was really refreshing in the method of production, even though it turned out a little rough round the edges. So it turned out I didn't really have anything to do until post-production, unless I was interested in doing foley (not really). Suits me fine, and gives me longer to think about how I'm going to produce the music, what method I'll take and where I'll do it, what sounds I'll use. Given this amount of time and flexibility it would be worth scoring a lot of the elements in advance, and contemplating structure carefully.
We met up with Paolo and Jacopo and went to the Dutch Pancake House on St Peter's Square before going to see a production of David Mamet's Speed the Plow. I remember now why I haven't gone to the Pancake House more often, most probably because I felt like I was invading a Dutch person's front room, and although the pancakes were excellent something didn't feel relaxed although I couldn't put my finger on it - people, place or atmosphere. I realise now it was a gentle clash of sensibility across the void of language and custom, even more apparent after the Mamet finished and we adjourned to Font bar. We moved to the bar next door when we discovered how full, and how unbelievably loud it was in there. I literally couldn't hear the person next to me speak. Will left a little later and I was left with the Italians and Tom's birthday crew. We enjoyed ourselves sufficiently, and I talked at length with Paolo about the next phase of our work together - where Crisma is going and what we both felt was the next logical step. I talked about my desire to create a meld of live and improvised music, something which could be structured and sculpted at will with the maximum of user input. In other words an electronic instrument or interface through which total control could be had, and developed through the interface itself. Nothing really exists like it, and I guess it's just a dream but I'll be damned if I don't die trying. Visions should be paid strict attention to, especially if they recur. Paolo was keen on my other idea of an interactive interface allowing the public to determine the music and video's unfolding and development, whether consciously or unconsciously. Taking place in a determined place at a specific time, but with possibilities for continued or flexible performance. Hopefully Crisma II will be in the middle of a forest at night with our white aluminium and plastic box lit from inside for the audience to find. Paolo and I continued the talk the next day at what is probably my favourite cafe in Manchester, if not the world - Oklahoma. Situated in what seems like a dingy back street of the Northern Quarter, it houses The Best Electronica cd shop and a shop selling plastic tacky goods the like of which you'll never have seen. We had a pleasant lunch and several coffees and I discovered a book of the work of Sam Taylor-Wood. We relaxed for some hours and eulogised about the production, setting and what developments were in store for us. That evening after Will's flatmate cooked us vegetarian sausages (I tried to get to Somerfield but it had closed moments before) in a wine based gravy that I must try to recall the recipe for. I journeyed round the corner to meet Paolo, Jacopo and the others (Tom, Anna, Tullis and some I forget) for a drink or two before they went back to Italy and I jetted off to Holland for my interview.
All in all it was a strange but productive weekend, spending far more than I intended but having a great time. I realised that productions and projects can only really get better through discussion, thought, revision and research. Each element requires the other to function, and too much of one can mask the others and development ceases. I caught the train to London, got the tube (very straightforward) to Heathrow, and the bus to /terminal [sic] / Terminal 4. I realised I'd panicked that I wouldn't have enough time, but I arrived nearly two hours before the flight, bought a little currency. I think the woman at the bureau de change wasn't really listening to me because I ended up with €20 and not £20 of Euros. Nonetheless I still returned from Holland with plenty of spare money, so it didn't really matter. I arrived in Schiphol, caught the first train to Den Haag. They have double decker trains, with seemingly identical 2nd and 1st class compartments, all costing pretty much the same. I can only say that they have a very efficient and fast train service. I changed for Delft at Den Haag HS and met Vivian at the train station. Delft is a strange place, and resembles at first glance on Viv's side a Glasgow scheme, except what they should have looked like had they been maintained and the local community had treated them like a living environment. What crime there is in Holland is mainly bike crime, and I think the main black market traffic is in stolen bike pumps. Positively refreshing, although I heard whilst I was there the Dutch adage 'Bikes are public property, and locks a challenge'. I suppose like for like I'd prefer to replace my bike and have a safe environment to be. There are cycle lanes everywhere, and I don't just mean in the city centre. On the night after my interview we cycled into Delft and took a Bailey's Hot Choc at a nice wee bar populated by loud but well meaning students celebrating the end of term. The bike ride into town was straightforward and safe, and the bike route was marked out all the way - they even have right of way at most junctions. Viv and I talked about our approach to notation, music technology and many other things, including his philosophy of what music can do.
I suppose I should talk about the interview. I arrived in time, and Viv assured me I didn't really need to let anyone know I was there, so I just sat next to the door adjacent to a guy from... I forget. He was mighty nervous, but I maintained my cool. After a short wait a suited young gentleman from Malta came out, and after chatting briefly it turned out he'd previously studied at Napier. Strange coincidences - he'd been at the Sonic Fusion Festival the previous week and I hadn't seen him. Turns out they'd told him his work was too conservative, and eventually after pondering for some minutes they asked him back in and told him they'd offer a place on the final year of the undergrad. He wasn't exactly over the moon but I think his nerves still had the better of him. Richard Ayres poked his head out the door and beckoned me in, and I sat in the company of a large group of composition luminaries including Louis Andriessen on my right whom I didn't notice until some time into the interview. We had a good chat and I think I came over more head strong than I meant to, although they seemed to understand what I had to say. They offered me a place on the spot, although due to my words about needing to learn more in term of the 'basics', they said I should do the final year of the undergrad. I think they offer that to everyone wanting to do the VKO. I'm yet to know how I could possibly fund studying there, although this evening has led me to discover that with a residence permit I can reclaim my fees from the Dutch government. That just leaves living fees, which could be sorted through some sort of funding from the UK, although I know not what. After staying with Vivian another night, and him showing me a little of Den Haag and feeding me sufficiently, I journeyed back to England and met Zanni in Heathrow.
But the rest of that sounds like it's for tomorrow as it's getting late again. My mother is on her computer test marathon starting tomorrow morning early, so I probably won't have access for a while. First of the month.
Well, I suppose I should continue the story as I've given away some of it. Saturday was spent exploring the new delights of Manchester's city centre, with part rain and part shine. Will and I talked at length about the production and what I could do, which to be honest at the moment is minimal. He has asked me to go this weekend to move faders while they're recording, but I think it's too much hassle and expense for what could be done easily by someone closer, although it would be great to see the set and meet the crew before they go into production in order to get a feel for what's going on. I found myself referring back to Ennio Morricone because of his inspired and unconventional use of instruments and technique/genre. Talk about prolific output, and quality that doesn't reflect the amount he produced. No wonder he's so much copied and imitated. Just thinking about his music's inspired me to want to create a score for Before/After like nothing else I've done before. The problem here is that I'm a little bit frustrated by the conventional approach to how the film is produced, although I don't see what else could be done. I just hate getting a cut in the post and having to write around it with a script in hand, it seems too straightforward, although arguably one works best that way. Crisma was really refreshing in the method of production, even though it turned out a little rough round the edges. So it turned out I didn't really have anything to do until post-production, unless I was interested in doing foley (not really). Suits me fine, and gives me longer to think about how I'm going to produce the music, what method I'll take and where I'll do it, what sounds I'll use. Given this amount of time and flexibility it would be worth scoring a lot of the elements in advance, and contemplating structure carefully.
We met up with Paolo and Jacopo and went to the Dutch Pancake House on St Peter's Square before going to see a production of David Mamet's Speed the Plow. I remember now why I haven't gone to the Pancake House more often, most probably because I felt like I was invading a Dutch person's front room, and although the pancakes were excellent something didn't feel relaxed although I couldn't put my finger on it - people, place or atmosphere. I realise now it was a gentle clash of sensibility across the void of language and custom, even more apparent after the Mamet finished and we adjourned to Font bar. We moved to the bar next door when we discovered how full, and how unbelievably loud it was in there. I literally couldn't hear the person next to me speak. Will left a little later and I was left with the Italians and Tom's birthday crew. We enjoyed ourselves sufficiently, and I talked at length with Paolo about the next phase of our work together - where Crisma is going and what we both felt was the next logical step. I talked about my desire to create a meld of live and improvised music, something which could be structured and sculpted at will with the maximum of user input. In other words an electronic instrument or interface through which total control could be had, and developed through the interface itself. Nothing really exists like it, and I guess it's just a dream but I'll be damned if I don't die trying. Visions should be paid strict attention to, especially if they recur. Paolo was keen on my other idea of an interactive interface allowing the public to determine the music and video's unfolding and development, whether consciously or unconsciously. Taking place in a determined place at a specific time, but with possibilities for continued or flexible performance. Hopefully Crisma II will be in the middle of a forest at night with our white aluminium and plastic box lit from inside for the audience to find. Paolo and I continued the talk the next day at what is probably my favourite cafe in Manchester, if not the world - Oklahoma. Situated in what seems like a dingy back street of the Northern Quarter, it houses The Best Electronica cd shop and a shop selling plastic tacky goods the like of which you'll never have seen. We had a pleasant lunch and several coffees and I discovered a book of the work of Sam Taylor-Wood. We relaxed for some hours and eulogised about the production, setting and what developments were in store for us. That evening after Will's flatmate cooked us vegetarian sausages (I tried to get to Somerfield but it had closed moments before) in a wine based gravy that I must try to recall the recipe for. I journeyed round the corner to meet Paolo, Jacopo and the others (Tom, Anna, Tullis and some I forget) for a drink or two before they went back to Italy and I jetted off to Holland for my interview.
All in all it was a strange but productive weekend, spending far more than I intended but having a great time. I realised that productions and projects can only really get better through discussion, thought, revision and research. Each element requires the other to function, and too much of one can mask the others and development ceases. I caught the train to London, got the tube (very straightforward) to Heathrow, and the bus to /terminal [sic] / Terminal 4. I realised I'd panicked that I wouldn't have enough time, but I arrived nearly two hours before the flight, bought a little currency. I think the woman at the bureau de change wasn't really listening to me because I ended up with €20 and not £20 of Euros. Nonetheless I still returned from Holland with plenty of spare money, so it didn't really matter. I arrived in Schiphol, caught the first train to Den Haag. They have double decker trains, with seemingly identical 2nd and 1st class compartments, all costing pretty much the same. I can only say that they have a very efficient and fast train service. I changed for Delft at Den Haag HS and met Vivian at the train station. Delft is a strange place, and resembles at first glance on Viv's side a Glasgow scheme, except what they should have looked like had they been maintained and the local community had treated them like a living environment. What crime there is in Holland is mainly bike crime, and I think the main black market traffic is in stolen bike pumps. Positively refreshing, although I heard whilst I was there the Dutch adage 'Bikes are public property, and locks a challenge'. I suppose like for like I'd prefer to replace my bike and have a safe environment to be. There are cycle lanes everywhere, and I don't just mean in the city centre. On the night after my interview we cycled into Delft and took a Bailey's Hot Choc at a nice wee bar populated by loud but well meaning students celebrating the end of term. The bike ride into town was straightforward and safe, and the bike route was marked out all the way - they even have right of way at most junctions. Viv and I talked about our approach to notation, music technology and many other things, including his philosophy of what music can do.
I suppose I should talk about the interview. I arrived in time, and Viv assured me I didn't really need to let anyone know I was there, so I just sat next to the door adjacent to a guy from... I forget. He was mighty nervous, but I maintained my cool. After a short wait a suited young gentleman from Malta came out, and after chatting briefly it turned out he'd previously studied at Napier. Strange coincidences - he'd been at the Sonic Fusion Festival the previous week and I hadn't seen him. Turns out they'd told him his work was too conservative, and eventually after pondering for some minutes they asked him back in and told him they'd offer a place on the final year of the undergrad. He wasn't exactly over the moon but I think his nerves still had the better of him. Richard Ayres poked his head out the door and beckoned me in, and I sat in the company of a large group of composition luminaries including Louis Andriessen on my right whom I didn't notice until some time into the interview. We had a good chat and I think I came over more head strong than I meant to, although they seemed to understand what I had to say. They offered me a place on the spot, although due to my words about needing to learn more in term of the 'basics', they said I should do the final year of the undergrad. I think they offer that to everyone wanting to do the VKO. I'm yet to know how I could possibly fund studying there, although this evening has led me to discover that with a residence permit I can reclaim my fees from the Dutch government. That just leaves living fees, which could be sorted through some sort of funding from the UK, although I know not what. After staying with Vivian another night, and him showing me a little of Den Haag and feeding me sufficiently, I journeyed back to England and met Zanni in Heathrow.
But the rest of that sounds like it's for tomorrow as it's getting late again. My mother is on her computer test marathon starting tomorrow morning early, so I probably won't have access for a while. First of the month.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Too long again
Eight days since the last update, and I didn't even really say anything the last time.
I'm sitting in the little room in Merston that used to be mine before my brother moved out and I could move into the bigger (relatively) room. It's now the office-cum-library and consequently the place where the modem lives. I've camped out here for today since I've been informed my mother will be invading for the next two days to complete some sort of online test. I'm not sure what type of test involves staying in front of a computer for two days, and she hasn't really explained so I guess I'll just have to see what happens. She's said she won't be staying up for the whole time but I worry for her health if she looks at a screen for that long (I'm one to talk).
I think it's time I reported on the last week and more. Since leaving Glasgow. Well I journeyed on the morning train to Manchester, complete with age-old Nike bag, and laptop on my back. Pretty uneventful train journey, I'm glad to say - seem to usually get delayed somewhere or other, but arrived in Manchester a few minutes ahead of schedule with a good few bars of tango written and an up-to-date diary, not to mention a Greggs stomach. I met Will at the train station, and we talked about how much Manchester has changed. I remembered I haven't been there for about a year, and it's strange how things change when you're away. People just seem to get on a build stuff without your permission and finish those things that seemed to be taking so long in a jiffy. Of particular note are the skyscraper in a lurid green colour effacing the horizon as you come in on the train through Salford. It's not quite finished yet but it was a little shock when I wasn't expecting a huge building where previously there wasn't anything. They've also finished the corner of the Arndale centre on Exchange Square with some huge glass panels and modern concrete/steel painted panels, completing that quarter of the town from a destitute and decaying quarter and into a hive of activity, with the Urbis museum, Printworks, Triangle centre, huge glass Marks and Sparks and the brand new (almost civil) Arndale. I kinda missed the 'true' Manchester feel, that of burgeoning new business next to decaying industry.
After Will left me on the bus to find his flat in Withington, I dropped off my few things, settled in and then went out to investigate where I used to live. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find, but it still had the same yellow front door, and the street hadn't really changed at all. I almost expected it to feel like yesterday I was there, but there's a bridge or at least a gap between my experiences then and what's going on now. Back then seemed like a bit of a daydream, and I drifted through that gap year in Manchester without too much care, although I certainly enjoyed myself and had bad days in equal measure. I pottered round to where Hannah used to live and didn't dare look at the front. The enduring memory is of standing on the street in June, with bouts of sun and rain, saying goodbye without either of us really wanting to either say or mean it. It's not that I didn't know that she was going, it's that we both knew it had to end at some point, but that it was probably better not to acknowledge it and then it'd be easier when we saw each other again. As it happens she's spent most of the last two years in Africa. I find it really strange that a friendship can only really exist when two live close to each other. It requires at least some sort of regular exchange for you to 'know' a person, and that just disappears when they're away for even a short length of time. I guess it's some sort of trust, an unconscious bond between the people that forms from just being in each other's company.
I digress. Later that day Will and I went to see Jacopo and Paolo's show at Manchester University, and saw many people I haven't seen for a while. I hadn't seen Paolo or Jacopo since March, which I suppose isn't that long a length of time but nonetheless I love to see them. I also saw Tullis and discussed the live electronics gig we're planning in Glasgow with him, and he showed me what Mantis was doing in the basement of the department. Max/MSP seems to feature highly on the list of all current institutions, and they were making full use of its capabilities. I also saw Envision crew, whom I know from the old department, but more from the original LPC (I love you, you're perfect, now change) tour of the UK and Italy from two and a half years ago. When we went out for a drink after the show it seemed like no time had passed since we were all in Birmingham in a terrible B&B and performing in a nearby theatre. The show (that evening) was a mixed affair of abstract scenes, unscripted and partly improvised, but making an adjoining tableux that was at once disturbing and surreal in the true Italian style. It was very short, but could have been even shorter - not necessarily a bad thing, just a suggestion that the material and ideas could have been condensed into a smaller time period. Tullis' music was effective and very apt, but lacked the polish of previous productions because of time contraints. They had a week to prepare the whole performance. We adjourned to Kro Bar across the road and talked for many hours about the implications of the work and where they intended to go afterwards over a good few beers. I also got to speak Italian for a while, always welcome, although I certainly felt a little rusty. I slept well and the next day Will, Holly and I went to see what all the fuss was about in the centre of Manchester.
I'll explain more tomorrow about the rest of the weekend, then Holland and what's going on this week.
I'm sitting in the little room in Merston that used to be mine before my brother moved out and I could move into the bigger (relatively) room. It's now the office-cum-library and consequently the place where the modem lives. I've camped out here for today since I've been informed my mother will be invading for the next two days to complete some sort of online test. I'm not sure what type of test involves staying in front of a computer for two days, and she hasn't really explained so I guess I'll just have to see what happens. She's said she won't be staying up for the whole time but I worry for her health if she looks at a screen for that long (I'm one to talk).
I think it's time I reported on the last week and more. Since leaving Glasgow. Well I journeyed on the morning train to Manchester, complete with age-old Nike bag, and laptop on my back. Pretty uneventful train journey, I'm glad to say - seem to usually get delayed somewhere or other, but arrived in Manchester a few minutes ahead of schedule with a good few bars of tango written and an up-to-date diary, not to mention a Greggs stomach. I met Will at the train station, and we talked about how much Manchester has changed. I remembered I haven't been there for about a year, and it's strange how things change when you're away. People just seem to get on a build stuff without your permission and finish those things that seemed to be taking so long in a jiffy. Of particular note are the skyscraper in a lurid green colour effacing the horizon as you come in on the train through Salford. It's not quite finished yet but it was a little shock when I wasn't expecting a huge building where previously there wasn't anything. They've also finished the corner of the Arndale centre on Exchange Square with some huge glass panels and modern concrete/steel painted panels, completing that quarter of the town from a destitute and decaying quarter and into a hive of activity, with the Urbis museum, Printworks, Triangle centre, huge glass Marks and Sparks and the brand new (almost civil) Arndale. I kinda missed the 'true' Manchester feel, that of burgeoning new business next to decaying industry.
After Will left me on the bus to find his flat in Withington, I dropped off my few things, settled in and then went out to investigate where I used to live. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find, but it still had the same yellow front door, and the street hadn't really changed at all. I almost expected it to feel like yesterday I was there, but there's a bridge or at least a gap between my experiences then and what's going on now. Back then seemed like a bit of a daydream, and I drifted through that gap year in Manchester without too much care, although I certainly enjoyed myself and had bad days in equal measure. I pottered round to where Hannah used to live and didn't dare look at the front. The enduring memory is of standing on the street in June, with bouts of sun and rain, saying goodbye without either of us really wanting to either say or mean it. It's not that I didn't know that she was going, it's that we both knew it had to end at some point, but that it was probably better not to acknowledge it and then it'd be easier when we saw each other again. As it happens she's spent most of the last two years in Africa. I find it really strange that a friendship can only really exist when two live close to each other. It requires at least some sort of regular exchange for you to 'know' a person, and that just disappears when they're away for even a short length of time. I guess it's some sort of trust, an unconscious bond between the people that forms from just being in each other's company.
I digress. Later that day Will and I went to see Jacopo and Paolo's show at Manchester University, and saw many people I haven't seen for a while. I hadn't seen Paolo or Jacopo since March, which I suppose isn't that long a length of time but nonetheless I love to see them. I also saw Tullis and discussed the live electronics gig we're planning in Glasgow with him, and he showed me what Mantis was doing in the basement of the department. Max/MSP seems to feature highly on the list of all current institutions, and they were making full use of its capabilities. I also saw Envision crew, whom I know from the old department, but more from the original LPC (I love you, you're perfect, now change) tour of the UK and Italy from two and a half years ago. When we went out for a drink after the show it seemed like no time had passed since we were all in Birmingham in a terrible B&B and performing in a nearby theatre. The show (that evening) was a mixed affair of abstract scenes, unscripted and partly improvised, but making an adjoining tableux that was at once disturbing and surreal in the true Italian style. It was very short, but could have been even shorter - not necessarily a bad thing, just a suggestion that the material and ideas could have been condensed into a smaller time period. Tullis' music was effective and very apt, but lacked the polish of previous productions because of time contraints. They had a week to prepare the whole performance. We adjourned to Kro Bar across the road and talked for many hours about the implications of the work and where they intended to go afterwards over a good few beers. I also got to speak Italian for a while, always welcome, although I certainly felt a little rusty. I slept well and the next day Will, Holly and I went to see what all the fuss was about in the centre of Manchester.
I'll explain more tomorrow about the rest of the weekend, then Holland and what's going on this week.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Dutchland
Well I'm in Holland. Staying at a friend's apartment in Delft, where it is very beautiful, hospitable and warm. This evening we took his cat for a walk, but it seemed to prefer sniffing in the bushes just outside the flat than walking along the river bank, so we returned without so much as a short stroll.
I'm yet to come to a decision as to whether I'd like to stay here or not, as I've only been here for a matter of hours. The train system here is pretty awesome, and it really didn't cost much or take very long to get from Schiphol to Den Haag. What amazed me more was this morning was the journey from Manchester to London, which took little more than two hours. At least now we're up to speed with the continent on one major transport route. However it did still take an hour on the tube and bus from central London out to Heathrow.
Lots of great things happened in Manchester, probably something to talk about when I have a computer keyboard in front of me and not predictive text on my phone, but I'll just say for now that I had a really good time and bumped into more wonderful people than I'd care to mention. I really can't believe just how much it has changed since I've left, and for the good more than anything. For now, I think I'll get some kip before my interview tomorrow and let you know how it goes as soon as I can...
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Tango Time
Looking at the autocomplete function on the title, it seems like I've written a lot of blog entries starting with 'T'. It's amazing what psychoanalysis can do. Last night I went to Alistair MacDonald's party, an annual gathering of arty types for St Dymphna's day (the patron saint of insanity). Much fun was had over many glasses of wine, and there was a lavish spread, of which the remaining last scraps were forced into doggy bags and into our hands on the way out. Alistair put tango music on for most of the night, given that he's a major tango exponent in Glasgow it was a good soundtrack for the evening. After a few hours I appeared to be more drunk than I had anticipated, but carried on drinking the freely flowing wine. There's something about red wine that makes you feel really strange when you've drunk too much of it. At some point in the night I agreed to write some piano duet tangos for the tango class that Alistair frequents, so I've got that hanging over me. I have a feeling that it'll be a good laugh though, and it's always good experience to be writing music, whatever the genre.
I discovered interrobangs today. I'm not really sure where one would use them, and I've hardly ever had a really strong desire to combine a question and exclamation mark.
I think I'm going to go and investigate my coffee maker, which hasn't been off the shelf for a while. I think an espresso would go down just well about now. Then I can tackle the tango with an alert mind.
The SonicFusion festival launched on the Friday just gone, with an all electro-acoustic concert. Despite the festival having the makings of a class A event, it was diabolically organised. They were still rehearsing as guests arrived at about 7.45, and during some of the pieces leads were being pulled out, reconnected and levels were being changed. All that should have been sorted before the concert started, since it's really quite distracting to have some people continuing a dialogue across the hall about the levels on a guitar, even worse with the lights up. Combine that with the second rate pieces (with the exception of Alistair's) and the terrible sound quality, I was disappointed with the outcome of the gig. It just didn't bode well for the start of an 'international' music festival. Anyway, time to find the coffee maker.
I discovered interrobangs today. I'm not really sure where one would use them, and I've hardly ever had a really strong desire to combine a question and exclamation mark.
I think I'm going to go and investigate my coffee maker, which hasn't been off the shelf for a while. I think an espresso would go down just well about now. Then I can tackle the tango with an alert mind.
The SonicFusion festival launched on the Friday just gone, with an all electro-acoustic concert. Despite the festival having the makings of a class A event, it was diabolically organised. They were still rehearsing as guests arrived at about 7.45, and during some of the pieces leads were being pulled out, reconnected and levels were being changed. All that should have been sorted before the concert started, since it's really quite distracting to have some people continuing a dialogue across the hall about the levels on a guitar, even worse with the lights up. Combine that with the second rate pieces (with the exception of Alistair's) and the terrible sound quality, I was disappointed with the outcome of the gig. It just didn't bode well for the start of an 'international' music festival. Anyway, time to find the coffee maker.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Envelopes
I seem to have spent the majority of today staring at envelopes. At 9.30 this morning I was called by my agency and asked if I could work today. I was beginning to lose hope of ever speaking to the nice ladies at Bruce Murray again, but lo and behold they picked me up out of my daze this morning and offered me work. I jumped at it since I really need some support for my 'endeavours', and I was planning on today being another of my self-congratulatory days in the park, reading and sunning myself and then retiring later to a cool and relaxed evening alla Wooster. But no, I was whisked off in a frenzy since I said I would be at the office in an hour, and turned up at 10.25 looking rather more dapper than I had done 55 minutes ago. I was immediately introduced to the smiling and amicable staff, who made me feel at home before warning me that the job was a little monotonous. I've done some really dreadful jobs in the past, but despite this one being really rather dull, I wasn't in a dull mood and remained cheerful for the rest of the day. I forget how friendly people are if you smile at them regularly, and I duly accepted cups of tea and their suggestions to take breaks whenever I wanted. That said I finished the work before the day was up and they sent me home early to the tune of a few pounds better. It consisted mainly of stamping payslips with a big, red P60 and then putting them into envelopes to be whisked off to the person concerned. I find it amazing that these jobs are still done manually, given that every other stage of the task is done by computer, including franking the letter. Perhaps it's that letter stuffers are hard to design, or that people just haven't thought of buying one in an office. I suppose also that plenty of temps would be without jobs if people didn't still have to send out letters in the post, or keep written records. They've asked me back in again on Monday so I'll be back to do much of the same thing then.
Tomorrow it's off to teach for the last scheduled teaching week of term. I have a feeling that many will want to see me next week for last minute touch ups before hand in, especially on the analysis project side that I feel may have been a bit heavy in terms of requirements. However, this may be the last time I teach in the college unless I secure some teaching for next year so it'll be an interesting day. I feel they may need rewarding with some token gifts to get those last few words in, perhaps a bag of chocolate raisins, or coated ginger might be in order. Usually you can treat them to some fun stuff, and relax on the work side, but they have too much to do so there'll be no respite for the wicked.
Time to continue the dreaded Max patch that crashed on me yesterday, and caused me to lose 2 hours of work. Macs generally don't crash, but Max/MSP seems to invariably crash at the most inopportune moments, especially on stage. It's going well, so I'll keep you updated on its progress. It doesn't do nearly enough things at the moment, but we're getting to the stage where I think it could be useable. Let's just hope that I can get something musical out of it after all this.
I've just finished a cup of Shangri-La tea, purported to be some of the finest in the world. I'm not sure I rate it so highly as the finer green teas available at Tea Art Studio, or even indeed the humble Earl Grey (only in one of the better mixes). I must admit it has a delicate flavour, and rewards repeated drinking, but perhaps my tastes are just too exotic. I think I'll be visiting Tchai Ovna soon enough for a cup of Spicemaster to warm my bones. Tomorrow night is the inaugural concert of the Sonic Fusion Festival, a festival of contemporary electro-acoustic and new 'classical' music. I'm not sure how it'll compare to Plug, especially as the two are so at odds in terms of style and content you couldn't compare them. I'll let you know what it's like.
Tomorrow it's off to teach for the last scheduled teaching week of term. I have a feeling that many will want to see me next week for last minute touch ups before hand in, especially on the analysis project side that I feel may have been a bit heavy in terms of requirements. However, this may be the last time I teach in the college unless I secure some teaching for next year so it'll be an interesting day. I feel they may need rewarding with some token gifts to get those last few words in, perhaps a bag of chocolate raisins, or coated ginger might be in order. Usually you can treat them to some fun stuff, and relax on the work side, but they have too much to do so there'll be no respite for the wicked.
Time to continue the dreaded Max patch that crashed on me yesterday, and caused me to lose 2 hours of work. Macs generally don't crash, but Max/MSP seems to invariably crash at the most inopportune moments, especially on stage. It's going well, so I'll keep you updated on its progress. It doesn't do nearly enough things at the moment, but we're getting to the stage where I think it could be useable. Let's just hope that I can get something musical out of it after all this.
I've just finished a cup of Shangri-La tea, purported to be some of the finest in the world. I'm not sure I rate it so highly as the finer green teas available at Tea Art Studio, or even indeed the humble Earl Grey (only in one of the better mixes). I must admit it has a delicate flavour, and rewards repeated drinking, but perhaps my tastes are just too exotic. I think I'll be visiting Tchai Ovna soon enough for a cup of Spicemaster to warm my bones. Tomorrow night is the inaugural concert of the Sonic Fusion Festival, a festival of contemporary electro-acoustic and new 'classical' music. I'm not sure how it'll compare to Plug, especially as the two are so at odds in terms of style and content you couldn't compare them. I'll let you know what it's like.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
In the park
Well. I'm sitting in the park at the moment with Leasha writing a card, and me relaxing in the sun on my big green blanket. This blanket was bought in Austria at our family reunion about 15 years ago, when numerous members of my family attended. I remember having had a really great time with my cousins, and being envious that they spoke fluent German and could talk to anyone there. This wasn't really repeated until about ten years later in Spain, at my Gran's 80th party celebration/reunion. By this time our family had expanded and my little niece had been born- both my brother and his wife were in attendance. It's amazing how much, and how little nearly ten years can put between people. I guess I'd grown up by that point, from an annoying brat with short blonde hair and a penchance for extra large t-shirts into a more mature individual. This didn't seem to stop me having just as much fun with my cousins, although they argued among themselves as usual, often in Norwegian. Mind you we ate really great food and went to a few really good places to eat and drink. Seems like a while ago now, but there's one planned in September for Italy, which I'd be eager to go on although my parents seem to have found an excuse not to attend. Milan'd be a really great place to visit, and I'll always welcome an excuse to practise my Italian. Now there's just finding a way to cover the very reasonable - although difficult to justify - plane fare. I was hoping a rich family benefactor might sub me on this account, so we'll have to wait and see. I'll keep you updated.
This reminds me of the time when I was driving down to Italy with my cousins in the back of our Peugot 206. I don't remember when this was, just that it was a very long time ago, and I didn't feel as cramped in the back of the car as I would do now. Also the age difference between my cousins and I seemed a little bigger than when I've seen them recently. The kids were in the back of the car, enjoying themselves as only we could when we're that young, and my dad was driving with my mum giving directions from the oversized map of Italy. We had all the windows open because of the heat (it was the middle of a very hot Italian summer), and the wind was blowing through the car as we drove down the motorway. One moment my mum was consulting the map, and the next the page we were on had flow out the window. There was so much air passing through the car it wasn't really surprising it got blown away. However, we did ok because dad remembered that the road simply continued straight along the coast, and that we didn't really need to turn off till way further South so we continued the uninterruptible glorious weather and scenery. We stopped much further down - on the next page - at a service station and stopped in the queue, at which point all of up except my dad got out because it instantly became too hot to be in the car. A car pulled up behind, and lo and behold, on the bumper there was the missing page of the map, stuck for a hundred miles. My cousin retrieved it and it was reunited, much to the surprise of my parents.
I can't say I remember much else about the trip, as those yearly trips to Italy seem to blend into one. Spent by the pool with many books, and trips to various cities to see some of the best works of art in the world. Sitting in the park here now seems like a million miles away, although just different rather than better.
Monday, May 08, 2006
About Time
Time flies doesn't it? I got to thinking it was about time I made another post. Kyle Gann hasn't posted in a while and I think he's taking some time out for obvious reasons. Things have been all of a change recently, and as last time, I don't know where the time's gone since I was away in Sussex. It's nearly a week since I last posted, and since then, looking back in my diary, a lot's happened. The dreaded Thing concert has come and gone with nothing inasmuch as a whisper, almost as if we've become accustomed to the rigmarole of contemporary concerts, something that was probably to be expected given the number that occurred last week. I think the Thing gig may have been overshadowed somewhat by the opera on at the Academy, the opening night of Don Giovanni across the road and another sold-out concert at the Royal Concert Hall. So much for contemporary music taking the lime light, which I guess it's never really done. At least we got a half decent review, and I get mentioned (hint: I'm the piano). Well at least it's a start in the world of showbiz, a daunting and pock-filled lifestyle. I'm really glad we had an opportunity to take a large part in a festival of new music, and that we're not just doing any old music. Aside from the Thing gig that week, there were three other concerts I managed to get to: an electroacoustic gig on Tuesday that opened Plug, which featured some really high quality ideas and forward thinking, even if some of the electronics didn't go quite to plan (always a problem if you're doing something experimental). They were pretty much all loud and boisterous affairs, with something quite unique to say in each one, and even the head of electro said they were all on their own in the ideas phase. I'm glad to see he has the mettle to push students in their own direction, to encourage them against their own grain. Following that there was Gareth's infamous opera on Wednesday, along with Simon's new music theatre piece, both really quite substantial and impressive pieces in their own right, that stood out as some of the real quality moments of the week. It just smacked of the fact that someone's done their homework, and they were rewarded by a quality 5-star review. Not that they care about reviews. Last of all was the RSAMD Sinfonietta gig on Friday, with three excellent pieces. I've got to say I was most impressed by the two 'least mature' composers' works, which displayed a certain quality I've not really experienced elsewhere. I'm not sure what it is, just that it's impressive, loud and slightly intimidating. I think the concert was let down by a programming error, that is a brass quintet played a Souster piece, which didn't fit in the slightest with the seriousness (if that's something music can be) of the other works. I would liked to see it on its own, but it just didn't work with the others, and may even have detracted from them in some way or another.
My teaching on Friday went well, and I'm sure my students will be on track by the time we get to this Friday, at least they'd better be because it's possibly the last lesson before hand in time. I think they're all aware of the amount of work that is required of them. It was glorious weather on Friday, and I'm sure some of them were dying to be outside, as I was. The view out the office window is truly amazing, and you can see the Royal Mile, the castle and Arthur's Seat, as well as the sea. The sky was a deep blue colour, and no clouds obscured it at all, much like today. I journeyed back towards the train station, basking in the glorious colour and vibrance as and when I could. I arrived just past Tollcross near Greyfriars, and walked round to the University library to return the dreaded Kramer book, that I sourced just in time for the lesson on Time Analysis with my students. No emotion betrayed itself despite the journey I passed in order to obtain it, and I returned outside to the University garden and sat under a tree reading 'Carry On, Jeeves' until six o'clock. I was hardly aware of the time passing, and it was still as hot as it ever was at that time as I passed the museum and over the Royal Mile towards Waverley station. I still had a few minutes before my train so I rested awhile in Princes Street gardens, before the train tracks, under the monument and on the slope of the grass. There were quite a few people seated there, observing carefully the cordoned-off area, respecting the need of the turf to revitalise. As I was waiting, two groups of kids converged on the path just above me, and a representative from each stepped forward. One punch was thrown, and the kid nearest me hit the ground pretty quick. A girl started screaming for help and both groups meandered away while she cradled him. It seemed like the offending gang weren't bothered about being noticed, and even his gang had disowned him for one reason or another. A few people nearer than me crowded round at the screams, and a policeman was called to judge the damage. I realised it was time for me to leave, and I crossed the road towards the station just as a police car pulled up. I stopped at Marks and Spencer's and picked up refreshments for the journey back, as I knew I wouldn't have time to stop for dinner between train and concert. I can recommend the banana smoothie, much to my taste, except that it contained reduced fat yoghurt, whereas the mango smoothie contains full fat - bizarre anomoly or judgment on the part of the M&S chefs? My train arrived back in ten minutes before the concert at the RSAMD was due to start, and I hot-footed it across town to take my seat just as the doors were closed and the evening started.
After the concert and subsequent trip to the pub I had what I might term a 'last meeting', at least a parting of ways. I'm not sure of the direction we'll both take but I certainly feel like a change has taken place. Maybe for the best but I'm not sure of my emotional state regarding this one. We'll just have to see how things move forwards, or if they even go in a particular direction. I'm quite happy just getting on with my own thing at the moment, and I need some time to stabilise, that's obvious enough to anyone.
The rest of the weekend was taken up with copious amounts of socialising, starting with tea and well... no go with Helena, although I did feel thoroughly revitalised afterwards, especially with the vegetable noodle soup that tasted simple and fresh. After that I journeyed to the park to be surprised by heavy rainfall, and took shelter and solace in Beanscene none too far away. From this point onwards things became increasingly blurred, and I can only really account for any time after meeting Leasha today and visiting the park in blissful weather and enjoying Thai Sweet Chilli crisps. I remember visiting Blue Dog and having several cocktails, including a prematurely abandoned Martini on Saturday night. I'm back on the planet now and the internet has reinstated itself so hopefully I can fill in regular updates. I'm on for the interview in the Hague for definite two weeks tomorrow, but I still haven't decided when I'm returning from Sussex to Glasgow, as I haven't booked tickets after my return from the Hague on the 24th. Perhaps I can take some time to recuperate and plan following whatever decision they make regarding my application. Time to write a proper Max patch that works as well...
Since my agency hasn't found me any work for this week I'm home bound, although the weather's great so I'm going to take advantage and spend it in the park if at all possible. I think I'm needing some time to read all those things sitting on the book shelf requiring my attention. And now for Ginseng tea with honey for a pick-me up.
My teaching on Friday went well, and I'm sure my students will be on track by the time we get to this Friday, at least they'd better be because it's possibly the last lesson before hand in time. I think they're all aware of the amount of work that is required of them. It was glorious weather on Friday, and I'm sure some of them were dying to be outside, as I was. The view out the office window is truly amazing, and you can see the Royal Mile, the castle and Arthur's Seat, as well as the sea. The sky was a deep blue colour, and no clouds obscured it at all, much like today. I journeyed back towards the train station, basking in the glorious colour and vibrance as and when I could. I arrived just past Tollcross near Greyfriars, and walked round to the University library to return the dreaded Kramer book, that I sourced just in time for the lesson on Time Analysis with my students. No emotion betrayed itself despite the journey I passed in order to obtain it, and I returned outside to the University garden and sat under a tree reading 'Carry On, Jeeves' until six o'clock. I was hardly aware of the time passing, and it was still as hot as it ever was at that time as I passed the museum and over the Royal Mile towards Waverley station. I still had a few minutes before my train so I rested awhile in Princes Street gardens, before the train tracks, under the monument and on the slope of the grass. There were quite a few people seated there, observing carefully the cordoned-off area, respecting the need of the turf to revitalise. As I was waiting, two groups of kids converged on the path just above me, and a representative from each stepped forward. One punch was thrown, and the kid nearest me hit the ground pretty quick. A girl started screaming for help and both groups meandered away while she cradled him. It seemed like the offending gang weren't bothered about being noticed, and even his gang had disowned him for one reason or another. A few people nearer than me crowded round at the screams, and a policeman was called to judge the damage. I realised it was time for me to leave, and I crossed the road towards the station just as a police car pulled up. I stopped at Marks and Spencer's and picked up refreshments for the journey back, as I knew I wouldn't have time to stop for dinner between train and concert. I can recommend the banana smoothie, much to my taste, except that it contained reduced fat yoghurt, whereas the mango smoothie contains full fat - bizarre anomoly or judgment on the part of the M&S chefs? My train arrived back in ten minutes before the concert at the RSAMD was due to start, and I hot-footed it across town to take my seat just as the doors were closed and the evening started.
After the concert and subsequent trip to the pub I had what I might term a 'last meeting', at least a parting of ways. I'm not sure of the direction we'll both take but I certainly feel like a change has taken place. Maybe for the best but I'm not sure of my emotional state regarding this one. We'll just have to see how things move forwards, or if they even go in a particular direction. I'm quite happy just getting on with my own thing at the moment, and I need some time to stabilise, that's obvious enough to anyone.
The rest of the weekend was taken up with copious amounts of socialising, starting with tea and well... no go with Helena, although I did feel thoroughly revitalised afterwards, especially with the vegetable noodle soup that tasted simple and fresh. After that I journeyed to the park to be surprised by heavy rainfall, and took shelter and solace in Beanscene none too far away. From this point onwards things became increasingly blurred, and I can only really account for any time after meeting Leasha today and visiting the park in blissful weather and enjoying Thai Sweet Chilli crisps. I remember visiting Blue Dog and having several cocktails, including a prematurely abandoned Martini on Saturday night. I'm back on the planet now and the internet has reinstated itself so hopefully I can fill in regular updates. I'm on for the interview in the Hague for definite two weeks tomorrow, but I still haven't decided when I'm returning from Sussex to Glasgow, as I haven't booked tickets after my return from the Hague on the 24th. Perhaps I can take some time to recuperate and plan following whatever decision they make regarding my application. Time to write a proper Max patch that works as well...
Since my agency hasn't found me any work for this week I'm home bound, although the weather's great so I'm going to take advantage and spend it in the park if at all possible. I think I'm needing some time to read all those things sitting on the book shelf requiring my attention. And now for Ginseng tea with honey for a pick-me up.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Lunch and High Tea
Sometimes I wish for something a bit simpler in life. The life of a musician couldn't be more complicated. It's not like we can just be a musician and get away with that as an income. I think most musicians I know that sustain themselves on their own means have to at least teach their instrument, play gigs, struggle, take odd jobs and generally be particularly resourceful. I don't know how we put up with it. I think it must have something to do with a pure love for the subject - noone would sacrifice all that for something they didn't truly believe in - and most of the musicians I know are passionate to the point of obsession. It was said recently that playing in an orchestra was one of the most stressful jobs one can take, due to the high demands on the performer - workload and such - and the extremely low pay scale.
That's why I thought I'd write an album and release it. It seems like one of the only ways to really get noticed.
Late one last night. I got back in about 4.30, an wasn't quite sure where the time went. I only really meant to go out for coffee, but you know how it goes: coffee, chat, more coffee, transcription of Rachmaninov song, Chinese takeaway, film, cocktails, more coffee and discovering how time has flown. I bumped into a drunk girl who was mumbling about being accosted by random men asking her to come back to their apartment. She asked if I could accompany her home, and offered for me to come and play acoustic guitar. I kindly declined as I thought probably both I and her could probably only do with one thing at that time - sleep. So I walked her to Great Western Road and she assured me she only lived on Cecil Street so I bade her good night and went on my way home. Earlier on in the evening I did quite a lot of talking about life, circumstances and outcomes and realised it's just really important to have fun whatever you're doing, and not worry too much about the future if it's not going to directly affect its outcome.
On Sunday night I purchased roughly £100 worth of travel. I think I got quite a lot for that. I blogged about the end of May being a nightmarish time, but now it seems quite straightforward as I've purchased the tickets, although the end is still open. I'm off to Manchester on the 19th, staying there over the weekend with a friend, seeing a play by another friend from Italy, chatting with him over some coffee about the nature of interdisciplinary performance, the problems and pitfalls, and our own solutions. I'm then going to Holland on Monday for my interview at the Hague, and I'm staying with a very nice friend who used to study here in Scotland, but has gone over for the bright lights and illustrious staff list of the Royal Conservatoire. I'm then coming back on the 24th to London. Now either here I'm meeting up with people from Italy, and we're staying in Sussex or I'm staying there on my own, or I'm coming back to Scotland straightaway. Who knows what'll happen... and who cares. Either way it'll be an excuse to pull affairs together and take Time Out.
Best be off - lunch and high tea for me today with a Thing rehearsal inbetween. Wish me luck.
That's why I thought I'd write an album and release it. It seems like one of the only ways to really get noticed.
Late one last night. I got back in about 4.30, an wasn't quite sure where the time went. I only really meant to go out for coffee, but you know how it goes: coffee, chat, more coffee, transcription of Rachmaninov song, Chinese takeaway, film, cocktails, more coffee and discovering how time has flown. I bumped into a drunk girl who was mumbling about being accosted by random men asking her to come back to their apartment. She asked if I could accompany her home, and offered for me to come and play acoustic guitar. I kindly declined as I thought probably both I and her could probably only do with one thing at that time - sleep. So I walked her to Great Western Road and she assured me she only lived on Cecil Street so I bade her good night and went on my way home. Earlier on in the evening I did quite a lot of talking about life, circumstances and outcomes and realised it's just really important to have fun whatever you're doing, and not worry too much about the future if it's not going to directly affect its outcome.
On Sunday night I purchased roughly £100 worth of travel. I think I got quite a lot for that. I blogged about the end of May being a nightmarish time, but now it seems quite straightforward as I've purchased the tickets, although the end is still open. I'm off to Manchester on the 19th, staying there over the weekend with a friend, seeing a play by another friend from Italy, chatting with him over some coffee about the nature of interdisciplinary performance, the problems and pitfalls, and our own solutions. I'm then going to Holland on Monday for my interview at the Hague, and I'm staying with a very nice friend who used to study here in Scotland, but has gone over for the bright lights and illustrious staff list of the Royal Conservatoire. I'm then coming back on the 24th to London. Now either here I'm meeting up with people from Italy, and we're staying in Sussex or I'm staying there on my own, or I'm coming back to Scotland straightaway. Who knows what'll happen... and who cares. Either way it'll be an excuse to pull affairs together and take Time Out.
Best be off - lunch and high tea for me today with a Thing rehearsal inbetween. Wish me luck.
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