The Londonolog

Restarting

2007-06-10T10:42:00.000+01:00

OK, so I've decided to restart this blog. It's been nearly a year since I last wrote in it, so perhaps it's time to start blogging again. But not at this exact minute. Right now I'm working. But later.

Back to E3 (In the ghetto, but not of the ghetto)

2006-07-30T20:13:00.000+01:00

Well, I moved again today!
I have returned to the urban jungle that is Mile End, from Stockwell. And in a month's time, I'm off again! to Limehouse!
I'm looking forward to settling down a little more. There's so much clutter in my life at the moment, and I don't think moving from place to place every few months is very helpful for me. So yeah, I'm looking forward to moving in with Gwilym and Wes! It should be good fun, and I hope it'll help me to feel more settled.

I've worked out that when I do move at the end of August, I will have lived in five different places in the space of a year! Let me list them for you (from the end of August '05)...

New Cross (until beginning of September)
Thatcham, Berkshire (until late February '06)
Mile End (until early April '06)
Stockwell (until end of July '06)
Mile End, again (until late August '06)
Limehouse

That's moderately impressive for 12 months!!
P.S. That 'ghetto' thing in the title is shamelessly plaigerised from 'The Associates' of Southern Grove.

4' 33" - London, England @ 9pm BST

2006-07-12T01:22:00.000+01:00

I didn't perform in movements, but rather a continuous 4' 33". Some of the sounds were pretty constant, others frequent yet not constant, and others occurred only once or twice. This is how I shall list the performance.

Constant

People walking - At different speeds, and with different shoes. Frequent 'scuffing'. It was interesting when people crossed infront of me. An interesting 'panning' effect ensued.
People talking - People of all ages. This was usually a constant murmur, but there were also frequent close up conversations. (Including a German couple, and an American girl talking about ballet)
A group of musicians playing wooden gongs - A mix between the Gamelan and a Xylophone. It was interesting.

Frequent, but not constant

Trains passing across the bridge from Waterloo East to Charing Cross - This was a metal rhythmic rumble, accompanied by metal against metal screeches, and the usual b-dum, b-dum, b-dum... They always came from behind to infront, on the left.
Traffic from across the Thames - You'd think this'd be constant, but it ended up coming into earshot when there was a lull in aural activity on the South Bank.
Cyclists - Usually travelling across and infront of me.
Laughing - All ages and sexes, with many distant, a few close up.

Infrequent (Once or twice)

A buggy passing from left to right. Infront of me.
A man to my right, fairly close, rattling his keys in his pocket
Seagulls squarking over the Thames
Cutlery being placed on an outside restaurant table behind me. Distant.
A baby crying. Distant
Coughing. Happened a couple of times, both infront and medium close. Male and Female.
A reed wind instrument. Possibly middle eastern. Quite an interesting tonal quality.

This was quite a lively sound, although relaxing. I liked hearing different languages being spoken, and also the two musical instruments being played - which were not in western! I could have stayed there much longer, in fact, so much was I enjoying the experience, but I had to move on. I made it back home by 10pm. Damn tube.

Performance & Notes - Iain
It was performed on a bench in between the Royal Festival Hall and the Thames. Here is a photo (not by me).
* Wondered why I said London, England, rather than London, UK? Well, I don't really know. Maybe I want to express my Englishness, maybe not. :)
* Be sure to carry on reading below for Chinelo's performance. Thanks for those, Chin! I'm glad you enjoyed the performance!! :)

4' 33" - Minneapolis, USA @ 3pm CDT

2006-07-12T00:39:00.000+01:00

Movement One - 4'33''

The loud hum of a stationary train motor and the hum of a nearby factory
The buzz of a fly flying by
The tweets of birds in the distance
A truck engine just revved; the squeak of an engine, a honk, the sputter of steam
The hum of the train/factory
Tweet--two birds dancing in the air together
End of Movement One

Movement Two - 2'00''

Tweets
A (air)plane overhead--almost directly
Hum
Tweet
Clanking of metal on metal
End of Movement Two

Movement Three - 0'43''

Car engine starts, another louder one, a truck motor starts. Sputter of a muffler, a motorcycle starts
A beeping, like a toy clarinet.
A plane directly overhead
Wind
Hum
Tweet
End of Movement Three

I thought it was beautiful! Probably the best performance I've heard to date. I liked sitting outside and hearing the contrast between nature and industry. I kind of felt like I was listening to an "island of nature," with the sounds of industry surrounding it (even from overhead). Very cool.

Performance & Notes - Chinelo
(Chinelo informs me that she was under a tree, next to some train tracks for this performance)

Hydrogen and Hydrogen and Oxygen

2006-07-10T23:22:00.000+01:00

Sorry to keep harping on about listening, but I felt the urge to write now. I'm in my room, composing, with the balcony (well, sort of balcony - more like a ledge ;) ) door open, and it's raining. I'd forgotten how much I like the sound of rain. It's kind of peculiarly rhythmic, yet springs surprises. It can be soft, yet also violent. At the moment, it's nice. Quiet, but with occasional metallic resonances, from when an accumulated raindrop falls from the roof, onto the metal railings just outside the door. I'm enjoying it. It sounds like a composition by Phill Niblock had he been friends with John Drever.

I don't expect anybody to understand that last sentence.

Carsten Nicolai, Ryuichi Sakamoto & John Cage

2006-07-10T01:19:00.000+01:00

Today I bowed to temptation, and bought an album by Carsten Nicolai (aka. Alva Noto) and Ryuichi Sakamoto on the iTunes store. It's awesome. Somehow, as I travelled around London, listening to the said record on my mp3 player of choice, spending more time than is considered acceptable getting from Stockwell to Shepherd's Bush, I was sent into calm, caught between a deep concentration, and a consideration of the super-imposed soundtrack to an afternoon. I like it when music can effect you in that way.
If any of you are at all interested, the record is called Insen. Buy it. But only if you can afford it. ;)

I think I spend so much time listening at work (well, it is my job!), that I haven't properly listened for a long time. I was thinking about this today, as I considered again the making of a mix CD for a friend. In the past, I have had a tendency to 'tone down' the content of my mix CD's, because I'm not sure the listener would be appreciative of the supposedly 'wierd' music to which I listen. There are a few exceptions to this. But maybe I won't in the future. Maybe instead, I'll include instructions for listening. I reckon most people who listen to music these days never really listen to music, in and of itself. They instead use it as background noise, a soundtrack to their activity. I know I have said in this post that I spent the day listening to music on my 'mp3 player of choice', but I think if we only listen to music like this, we miss out. One of the joys of listening, and the art of listening, is that you find yourself hearing things you'd never heard before, and developing a passion to listen more. You become interested in how sounds are. That's one of the reasons I appreciate Cage's music so much, I guess. And Feldman, also.

OK, here's an idea for y'all. On Tuesday Evening (to give you time to read this post - maybe I'll also find out how many do read it!) at 9pm BST (8pm GMT), I'm going to perform for myself 4'33" by John Cage. I'd like people who are willing, and who read this blog to do the same, at the same time. If you don't know what this is, then basically, it involves listening, for 4 minutes and 33 seconds, to the sounds you can hear. Technically speaking, the piece is in 3 movements, but I don't think it's so important to do this. Let's say, if you want a break from listening, at any two points in the listening, stop, and start again as the next movement. You don't have to go anywhere special (but you can if you want to!), or sit down, or stand up. Just be still and listen
Then, once you've completed the performance/listening, mail me, at iainfarnsworth@yahoo.co.uk, about your performance - what you heard, if you enjoyed it, what you found interesting, etc. And I'll post the performance notes on this blog. I'll be interested to hear about your performances!! Happy Listening! :)

OK, Bed. Goodnight and God Bless!!

Snippets no.2 (Pinch, punch...)

2006-07-01T01:13:00.000+01:00

's been a while since I last posted. Sorry guys. Seems like I do have stuff to say, but I'm really not very good at doing it. Until I have a few hours to compose a well thought through post, these snippets will have to suffice for the moment. Either that, or lyrics from musicals, "the highest form of art". Hehe.. Actually, Jess wasn't too far off when she said that! (Sorry, I think maybe some context is important here: Jess in an ex-flatmate from the 'Chesterman 8' days, who I think developed a liking for winding me up. After a week, I just got used to it.) Anyway, I think that although Jess may well have liked musicals, I seriously doubt that she really thought that they are the highest form of art. I think maybe she wanted to wind me up. However, it wouldn't be unreasonable to describe musicals as a popularised form of opera. Although this is a sweeping statement, I will say it: "Opera for the masses." Thing with opera is that it is described by some as 'total art', that is, the highest, and most complete form of art available, because of it's accumilation of all the major art forms in one performance. Wagner was the first apologist for this thought. This is what Wikipedia had to say about it..

"He firmly believed that each breed of art, including visual, dramatic, and, most fundamental, musical, working cooperatively would result in the most powerful transcendence and reckoning of the human condition."

And seeing as the musical is pretty much bastardised opera, I guess calling it "the highest form of art" isn't too far off the mark. According to Wagner anyway. And I never thought much of his work anyway...

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I've been working really hard at work recently. Actually, this week, I've been overloaded with stuff to do, to the point that I've been having to go home quite late on a few occasions. Anyway, it hasn't really finished yet, either! I still have some stuff that I should have finished by now, but due to various other 'more pressing' jobs to do, I've had to put them to one side for the moment. So, I have decided to go into work tomorrow (!) to catch up on all the stuff I'm behind on, so that come Monday, I'm not stressed or having to make excuses. I think the main reason that I've felt so stressed and rushed at work is simply because of the piling up of work. So tomorrow is really cleaning up my work life. I think it'll help, in the long term. I can't go on feeling manic at work. Hopefully, it'll pay dividends in being more able to rest at home also. Anyway, that wasn't what I wanted to say...
I went to the NFT with some colleagues the other day. Any other week would've been better, to be honest, but it started at 8:30, so I was able to do the work I wanted to do before I went. I went to see a music video screening called "Antenna", which plays lesser-seen music videos. It was pretty cool! It's been ages since I've done anything like go to a concert or a art showing, or anything like that, so it was really nice to do so. I picked up a programme on the way out, and noticed the UK Premiere of the film "Danielson: A Family Movie"!!! It's showing on the 8th July, and I must go! It'll be ahsome!! I really must give a nod to Chin, who turned me onto Danielson in the first place. Cheers Chinny!! I remember when I went to see Bro. Danielson at the ICA with Chinelo, which must've been over a year ago now. It was pretty great, with too many cool and peculiar sights and sounds to list hear, but I will say that Chin and I waited outside the ICA for a while after the gig, and met the Hush the Many guys (again), who were lovely, and also Bro. Danielson himself! He was packing his stuff into his car, when we walked over, and I was like, "Yo, Bro. Danielson!" And he was all like, "hello?", after which a sort of conversation about nothing happened. I think Chin thought it was quite funny, and I felt a bit like a stalker, hanging around after gigs to meet the band.
That was fun.

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Today's palindrome is "Yo, banana boy!"
I have been listening to "Rock Bottom Riser" by Smog and "The Only One" by Readymade FC whilst writing this post, and below is a picture of my expression whilst doing so. Goodnight!

Impossible? Unbeatable? Unbearable? Unrightable? Unreachable? Surely not.

2006-06-23T00:52:00.000+01:00

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell
For a Heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

The search for a name!!

2006-05-29T19:14:00.000+01:00

Ok, just a small side post, before I move on and do something productive...

I've been trying to think of a decent name for this blog for ages, because they've all been a bit pants so far. So any ideas would be appreciated! The winner receives a grand prize of gratitude!!

Snippets

2006-05-29T18:42:00.000+01:00

London seemed to me rather beautiful today. I'm not sure why, perhaps it was a mix of the fact that I felt in a good mood, and that it was a bank holiday and the sun was shining, but I just enjoyed being in London today.

I'm rather afraid I might be a bit of a London Underground geek. I've been trying to hide it for sometime, but actually, I find myself quite attracted to the LU (and the DLR (QLR)). I went into the LU transport museum shop today, and perused the vast number of books and various bits of paraphernalia available. I found myself fixated upon a book all about the LU maps post Harry Beck. Actually, it was this book. I think that maybe I'm simply attracted to the Englishness of it all. I love the old posters you can get from the shop, with the old roundel and city workers in bowler hats, probably saying "spiffing day, what what?" to each other and smoking pipes. It is said that many people become nostalgic for an era twenty years before they were born, but I think I may have become nostalgic for an era fifty years before I was born.

I'm starting to think that Wikipedia is one of the best websites on the internet!! (I find myself typing 'WikipAedia", because I'm an Englishman :) ) It's pretty much run by the public, and anyone can add to it's content, meaning it's a continually growing fountain of knowledge right there on the 'net. That's all in that snippet. No more...

Today's palindrome is "I prefer Pi"

Check out this!!! The most ridiculous story I've seen for a while....

That's all the snippets for today, folks. More soon...

Back to black (and white)

2006-04-19T23:31:00.000+01:00

I think I can be a bit obsessed with aesthetics and design. I can therefore look at sites like Veer for ages, and would buy publications such as Creative Review regularly if I could. It will therefore come as no surprise that I have changed the face of this blog again, back to the original template. But aren't Blogger's stock templates really very dull indeed?

I just don't have the time to design my own....

Saippuakauppias...

2006-04-19T00:39:00.000+01:00

...is your palindrome for today. When I was at school, I became very interested (I don't know why) in palindromes, especially in music. And so today, upon browsing aimlessly (actually, not so aimlessly - I was looking for for German language courses) I found this palindrome. It is a real word, in Finnish and means 'soap salesman', apparently. What kind of language has a word for a soap salesman?

Oh, what the hell, have another one....

Kobła ma mały bok

...is Polish and means 'the mare has a small side.'
All found from the BBC's language forum pages for geeks!!

Oh, dear, is that the time? I must go to bed...
I'm sorry if I've either confused or scared you..

The White Lady Loves You More

2006-04-17T12:38:00.000+01:00

This is my favourite song at the moment. It's incredibly sad, but it speaks a lot about addiction. In this case, I think it's specifically about heroin addiction, but I think it can be applied to other addictions as well. I saw a video of Elliott performing this in the US before he died. People in the audience were close to tears..

Keep your things in a place meant to hide
But I know they’re there somewhere
And I know that’s where you’ll go tonight
I’ll be thrown over just like before
The white lady loves you more
Need a metal man just to pick up your feet
It’s a long time since you cared enough for me to even be discrete
I know what this metal is for
The white lady loves you more
I’m looking at a hand full of broken plans
And I’m tired of playing it down
You just want her to do anything for you
There ain’t nothing that you won’t allow
You wake up in the middle of the night
From a dream you won’t remember flashing off like a cop’s light
You say she’s waiting and I know what for
The white lady loves you more
The white lady

The White Lady Loves You More - Elliott Smith

Sorry, somewhat of a miserable post, but I liked the song and spent a while thinking about the lyrics and why Elliott wrote it.

Iain Says...

2006-03-16T20:42:00.000Z

"I wouldn't mind losing my ears, because they're basically horns."

Gwilym Says...

2006-03-06T21:36:00.000Z

"The thing with toast is toast is awesome."

If only I could loosen my grip...

2006-02-28T00:15:00.000Z

I don't know how to start this post...
I started work at HomeChoice on Wednesday and since, everything with the job has been really great! I get on with my colleagues, I enjoy the work and I think making pretty good progress at learning the job. It doesn't really feel like a job - I think I would do it for free if I could afford it. It's one of those 'too good to be true' moments, that causes my inherently cynical and anxious self to fear what could take it away from me. Those who know me well know that I have a need to be in control to feel secure. However, I cannot remember the last time I was in control, and I guess it's somewhat inevitable that I have attempted to secure down things in my life that I value. I suppose at the moment, I feel anxious about my job security (which sounds odd, having just started), knowing I have very little control over this. What I do know is that God is fully in control, and I think that my anxiety is revealing of a lack of trust in His plan for my life.
A big problem is that I sin. I am a deviant and my natural inclination is to do those things which God does not want me to do. I really hate that I cannot walk straight, but instead veer into sin at most nearly every opportunity. But I know I am not alone in this. Paul in Romans 7:15 said, "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate." This is just how I feel. And because I am a control-freak, I have been trying to fix my own sin, despite the encouragement of good friends to surrender myself, including my control obsession, to Jesus, and let Him be Lord!! Of course, I fail. I cannot fix myself, and after concerted efforts to 'walk straight', I wander off again. Then I panic - "What if God punishes me by taking away my job?" I think this shows a number of things - 1, I have been valuing a career over God, 2, I don't trust God's plan for my life, and 3, I forget Jesus.
I think a major part of my problem is that I'm having a hard time accepting that my life is not my own anymore. I belong to Jesus. I'm struggling to keep on track, largely because trying to do what God asks of me is impossible without God, yet this is what I have been trying to do. I can't do it, and when I seek to guarantee security for myself, I find I can't guarantee a thing for myself in an uncertain world. I was reading an article on the 'net about the right Christian response to sin (I can't remember the source - maybe I'll post it later) and it said that it's hopeless attempting to fix sin on our own. How true these words are!!! And how foolish I have been to have clung so closely to control of my own life that I try to sort myself out and not let God even a look-in. It's time for me to submit to Jesus, and to give Him my struggles, my sin, my work, my anxiety and anything else that I've kept for myself for this long. I hope I can let go of them.

*This blog was posted whilst listening to Kings of Convenience, Ben Harper and The Danielson Famile.

Tagged!....

2006-02-15T17:05:00.000Z

So, I have been 'tagged' by my friend, Dame C. This means I get to tell you all five things, that perhaps, you may not have known about me. I must add, I've had to take a little time to think of things, so sorry it's a little tardy.

Here we go, 5 Things You Maybe , Perhaps Didn't Know About Me...

1. I have a wierd 'penchant' for typeface. I'm entirely sure why, but I've always seen fonts as quite important, they seem to add to the meaning and appearance of a word. It doesn't just end at saying, say... "I like Myriad Pro (which incidentally, is the Apple font)", some words look better in some fonts than others. In fact, I may even go so far as to say some word only look right in a certain font. Not quite sure at the moment. When I do I'll let you know. I guess as a 'spin off' to this 'thing-you-maybe-perhaps-didn't-know-about-me', is that I also like the look of certain words, separate from their meaning, like 'Arc' or 'glib'. Anyway, that's number one.

2. I can't throw away London Travelcards. OK, this is maybe a little odd. I'm not sure why I collect all of them, but I have in the past deliberately kept some for use as bookmarks. In fact, most of my books either have a london travelcard somewhere in the middle or at the end! And also, when I was a kid and we went to London on a trip, I used to keep the card as a momento of my day. I suppose keeping them has just become habit!! So, below is a picture of the cards I had on my desk this morning. I don't know where the rest are. (other than those in books!)

3. Although I count myself as 'serious' music lover and apologist of the new and avant-garde, I still enjoy music by Billy Joel, Norah Jones, David Gray and Queen.

4. I don't like sleeping, which, if I'm honest, is a bit odd. I'm trying to work this one out, but I can't. Maybe it isn't so much that I don't like sleeping, but rather I don't like going to bed. I'd sooner fall asleep watching TV or listening to music whilst lounging on the sofa.

5. When I was around 7 or 8, I guess, I started violin lessons at school (I had already begun to study the piano before this). For the first year I really enjoyed it, although never put in too much practice, but in the second year we had a really horrible violin teacher, who, when it came down to 'appraisals' (what else can I call them?), mistook me for somebody else, ripped into me for being uncommitted and lazy, and..... made me cry. Only the next day did she tell me she'd made a mistake, but she never apologised. I quit the lessons, and to this day, the violin remains my least favourite instrument, even to the point of disliking most violin music.

Right... who to tag next? I'm tagging..
Ben K.
K.C.
Debbibuzz
Schmoward
Scott (intrisically, yeah!)

**********************

I don't believe it!!

Nearly a year ago, I started work on a work called 'Tube Music', inspired by the London Underground map. I still haven't finished it, but somebody has beat me to the music/tube thing. I saw this only the other day. Some guy from The Guardian made a London tube map with musicians as the stations.
I believe you may download it here...
and buy a print here.

I could talk for ages about it, but I think I'll suffice by saying my favourite and most appropriate entry must be Nick Drake as Wapping, in light of his songs 'River Man', 'Three Hours (to London)' and 'At the chime of a city clock'.

**********************

I don't think I've ever put so many links in one post!!
Have fun, Y'all!!!

Cupid's Trick

2005-11-10T16:45:00.000Z

At university, it took me a long time to break free from the restrictions of superimposed forms on music. I had for a long time had a desire to compose a piano sonata in the strict sense. I had studied form and I thought I had understood it's importance in music. Indeed, it is important, but I believed it to be a point of departure in composition. This raised quite a few problems in that it restricted what I could do and how I could compose. Indeed, I was merely a prisoner to these forms, believing anything outside of them would be completely unjustified and therefore, fairly worthless. It completely hindered my progress, because I didn't know how to compose meaningfully around them. However, a good long hard struggle with this saw me break free of form entirely. This was equally troublesome. I explored this at depth in an earlier blog about being able to see all my materials, but being almost blinded by them, not knowing where to start or finish or where to go in between. I had come to a place where I understood that form was important, but is to be used with the knowledge the materials at hand and in the correct context. We cannot superimpose a form unsuitable to the composition being composed, lest it becomes mundane or unlistenable.

I was thinking about this as I walked home from my afternoon shift at the pub. I don't think it's an approach that is too far from that one should have in life. I am fairly unhappy in life at the moment. I could go round in circles trying to avoid the reason why I am unhappy, because I'm not happy with my own attitude that has caused it. However, I believe it is because I am craving a life I do not have here in Thatcham. I came back home from London (which was not always awesome, we must realise!!) and almost immediately wanted to be back in London. Why? I suppose because I had many friends, a decent church to go to (which I enjoyed going to) and I enjoyed London, albeit with many paradoxes. It excited me and I felt I was heading somewhere. Here, I am working in a pub, having failed to complete my degree and I am unable to find a job I actually want to be in. I listen to Elliot Smith's words with a perculiar poignancy...

"I hope you're not waiting, waiting around for me, because I'm not going anywhere, obviously."

I feel utterly stagnant and useless. I have turned bitter and angry. All because I cannot have what I want. That is amazingly selfish and shortsighted of me. The fact is I'm utterly confused with my life. I have composed a situation in my head where I imagine I will be happy if I conform to a form. A form I have constructed in my own head and that I'm trying to fit into, of success and status. My recent understanding of form in music should tell me something here, I think. I think now that if I try to fit my life into an abstract form (that perhaps I have invented or "society" has imposed onto me), because I suppose it will make me happy, I am in for a disappointment.
The truth is we all do it. We all say "if only I had this, things would be OK" or "if only I was here, things would sort themselves out". What nonsense. It doesn't work. It's proven. There are those who live in massive houses, have oodles of money, a high-paid job, many friends, but who are not happy in the least. As Bob Dylan once penned...

"How many times have you heard someone say, 'If I had money, I could do things my way'?"

It is the way of a world obsessed with possession, status and self-furtherment in the name of happiness and is something I see now that I have begun to fall into. It is a world obsessed with the present and not the future.

But I call myself a Christian, and it is shameful for me to be a part of that mentality. Listen to Paul's words...

"For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself."

Philippians 3:18-21

My future is in heaven, so why should I crave now earthly things? It is remarkable that I could invent for myself a form I should conform to, a form of earthly success and status and a happiness that comes not from Jesus, but from "early things". The fact is, that form and my happiness and satisfaction are incompatible. But I have been craving those things of late and I suppose that has what has made me so unhappy. I don't think it's going to be easy to change my heart on this. I know in my head that my searching for a satisfaction in life that is not from God is hopeless, yet it is so difficult for me to stop searching. I pray that the Lord Jesus will change my focus and my heart, to crave Him only and to focus purely on heaven. I know that knowing Jesus is to know Love, and to have the assurances of His love and my salvation, and an eternal relationship with God, must bring untold joy!! Perhaps it is that I am so cynical that I find it hard to trust His promise, but I know He is trustworthy and that the "form" that will work for me is the one He has set aside for me.

I have more to say, but it'll have to wait, because I've got to get back to work.
It seems lyricists always have the right words...

"All my life, I thought I needed all the things I didn't need at all"

A year in music - 2005

2005-11-06T15:37:00.000Z

Everybody knows that music can evoke strong memories. I find it fascinating. It places one mentally straight back to where they once were and I really enjoy it. It's somewhat nostalgic, it can be a bit sad and also equally exhilirating. So, I'm going to document some of the past few years in music for you all to see. This time, it's this year - 2005!! Here goes...

Happiness - Elliott Smith

This song does not yet evoke any memories, but I'm damn sure it will. It's the one song I've listened to more of in the last two weeks and has captured my feelings of misery and defiance in one.
"What I used to be will pass away and then you see / All I want now is happiness for you and me."
OK, I'm not sure I should be thinking like this, but perhaps it's OK to be really open and honest in this blog, because let's face it, the only people who read it are those who know me really well anyway!!

Little Arithmetics - dEUS

The sound of failure. This is actually a pretty happy song, but it was on a fellow musicians iTunes shared list on Music department's network, and I liked it. I cannot hear this song without being haunted by the thoughts of my 'Tube Music' efforts - a piece of music I have not yet finished and continues to irritate the hell out of me. When it is finished, I reckon this song should be played as an intro...

Pictures of Me - Elliott Smith

...trudges along with a kind of faux-optimism with a bit of anger. Songs to me seem to evoke more emotion if the lyrics fit, or at least some of them...
"So sick and tired of all these pictures of me. Completely wrong, totally wrong."
Yeah. I felt a little misunderstood by lecturers at Goldsmiths'. Few of them seemed to understand that my own personal composition development was moving fast and I had a lot to consider. That affected my work in an adverse way. As you'll all know, I haven't yet passed my degree, and I'm sure some people still think this was down to sheer laziness. They were, and are ,wrong. Completely wrong, totally wrong.

Beautiful Child - Rufus Wainwright

Takes me back to the European Cup Final. Liverpool vs. AC Milan. (Note to anyone who does not know - I have been a bit of a hardcore Liverpool FC fan for as long as I can remember) What an awesome night!! I travelled home from London purely to watch the game with my brother in Newbury and arrived late. Just in time though to see Milan put in their third of the first half. I got a couple of pints from the bar and awaited a bit more of a thumping and a dejected journey home. I instead witness an amazing turn around and Liverpool win their first European cup since 1984. I went a bit crazy, but it was just fantastic. This song was played in my iPod that night, only by coincidence, but had all the victoriousness of that night. Fantastic.

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk (Reprise) - Rufus Wainwright

This one's for my favourite ex-flatmate :-) I bought 'Poses' by Rufus Wainwright at the beginning of the year and liked all of the songs, but I admitted that I often skipped though tracks and I didn't listen to this, the last track. Conversation regarding this decision ensued and the tune, rather irritatingly, became lodged in my head for a good while as a result. So now, whenever I hear it, it now reminds me of those Chesterman 8 days!!

Anyhoo, that's enough for now. Maybe some more later...

Goldsmiths, shame on you...

2005-11-01T10:00:00.000Z

Today, I received one of the most threatening letters I have for a while. It read thus...

Dear Mr Farnsworth,

Following your recent examinations I am sorry to have to inform you that you have not, on this occasion, passed sufficient examinations to permit you to proceed to the next year of your programme of study, or if appropriate to graduate. Notification of your results are enclosed. For any fail recorded on your transcript you must abide by the Examiners instructions shown and re-sit next year. If your failure is due to absence or non-submission you should be aware that you have not completed your programme of study and therefore will not be able to graduate until all elements have been attempted.

You can redeem your failure this academic session by re-entering your examinations. In considering your results the Examiners agreed that it would be in your interests to attend College as a part-time student this session. You may also retake your examinationswithout attending College, although this would be against the advice of the Examiners. Tuition fees for this session can be obtained from the Fees and Awards Office on 020 7919 7528. An examination re-entry fee would be payable of £80 per unit entered up to a maximum of £400. Overseas students should be aware that
registering to retake examinations without attending College may affect your right to reside in this country as immigration rules normally require that you are registered as a full-time student. You are advised to check your position very carefully. Should you feel you need any further guidance or advice please make an appointment to see your Head of Department.

You should be aware that you will receive an Assessment Confirmation Form/Misconduct Form via your department later this term. This is to confirm your examination assessments and failure to return this form by the date given will result in a late penalty fee of at least £15.

Yours sincerely,
Ms Pamela Beevers

I shudder to think of the reaction of one (possibly a foreign student) who receives this letter, but unlike me, did not know they were to fail. Not only are they to cope with the reality that despite the horrendous amounts of money that Goldsmiths' charge not only for fees, but accommodation, food, books and anything else they can force hard-up students to pay for, but they also have to deal with this rude and threatening letter. Misconduct form? Is failure misconduct now? Shameless.

Nice one, Ms Beevers and Goldsmiths. No, really. Well done.

Everything to do, Nothing to say

2005-10-23T21:51:00.000+01:00

Hello Again.
This is the first time for a long time that I've decided just to sit and write, 'stream of consciousness' style. I usually plan my posts well in advance, think through all I want to say, complete my thoughts. However, it has been far too long since I've been able to compose a single thought, so here goes.
I haven't felt like talking very much recently, as the title might suggest. I don't know why this happens at times when I'm really quite busy or stressed, but I always seem to lack the ability to talk openly when I most need to. It can be quite a struggle, which is why (I think) I've resorted to posting song lyrics and poems, because they say better what I want to say than I can myself. Maybe it's that I get so overwhelmed when I'm in a time of stress or dispondancy that I don't want to engage my brain on the subject, just let the situation drift away. I know this isn't the correct approach, I know it does me more harm than good, but it's been a habit that I've been in for such a long time, I guess since my father died, that it's quite a struggle to break. Actually, thinking back, I can recall times when I've just come through a difficult patch, and I look back and think, "what the hell just happened?" This happened to me in the last month of my last year at Kingston. I had a lot of work to do and too few hours. I didn't sleep much, but that's most of what I can recall on my own. Later, say about a year later, my ex-girlfriend (we split up soon after I finished at Kingston) was reminiscing with me about that period and revealed to me my own behaviour. She didn't know that I was mostly unaware of the details of those few months and I found myself quite ashamed by what she told me. I apologised for a good few months after that, despite the fact that she had put it in the past, but it was still a little too fresh for me. I still feel most ashamed for that period.
Most of my close friends will also know that I have lost memory of the three years after my father died. I can remember vague details, but otherwise, it is a time-vacuum, where I am still unaware of what happened in that period. I wonder if these situations are a product of my inability to deal with things as they happen? You'd be amazed by how much time can disappear when you don't mentally engage with what's happening in your life. I've been trying to change that and I hope I can get out of the habit of disengaging when things get too much for me.
So where am I now? I guess I'm busy. It's been a month and a bit since I left London for home. It's not been awesome. This, you understand, is no reflection on the house in which I live, or my mother. It's a place I have returned to twice now after university and it feels like a regression. It's a mental thing, I guess. I have changed since last year, but coming home is hard because it begins to put you back where you once were. Especially in my relationship with God. Home is a place where I have not done so well in the past, for one reason or another, so it puts a real strain on that relationship. The fact that my relationship with God can be location-dependent kind of worries me. It kind of implies that my relationship with God is not as deep as I thought. Actaully, any Christian brothers and sisters out there would be most welcome to pray about that for me. I need a 'little help from my friends'.
A slight newsflash, but I'm hesitant to mention it, because I don't like it. I have a temporary job. I work in the Swan pub in Thatcham as of 11:30am today, which at least gives me some money, but a bit of a body-blow to my self-esteem. Actually, that's a bit unfair. I'm sorry, I may have offended any friends who have worked in a pub full-time before (Kelly), but it's not quite what I expected I'd be doing. Needless to say, I am continuing in my relentless jobsearch.
So that's it, I guess, for the time being. As much as I have stuff to say, I imagine I shouldn't force it. I shall spill my guts again in due time...

Expostulation and Reply

2005-10-01T11:13:00.000+01:00

'Why, William, on that grey stone,
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
And dream your time away?

'Where are your books? - That light bequeathed
To beings else forlorn and blind!
Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed
From dead men to their kind.

'You look round on your Mother Earth,
As if she for no purpose bore you;
As if you were her first-born birth,
And none had lived before you!'

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,
When life was sweet, I knew not why,
To me my good friend Matthew spake,
And thus I made reply;

'The eye - it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will.

'Nor less I deem that there are Powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.

'Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum
Of things for ever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?

'- Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,
Conversing as I may,
I sit upon this old grey stone,
And dream my time away.'

Oh, Elliott...

2005-09-13T17:27:00.000+01:00

Got bitten fingernails and a head full of the past
And everybody's gone at last
A sweet sweet smile that's fading fast
'cause everybody's gone at last
Don't get upset about it, no not anymore
There's nothing wrong that wasn't wrong before
Had a second alone with a chance let pass
And everybody's gone at last
Well I hope you're not waiting, waiting around for me
Because I'm not going anywhere, obviously
Got a broken heart and your name on my cast
And everybody's gone at last
Everybody's gone at last

Going Home

2005-09-12T10:35:00.000+01:00

So I guess that's that for me and London. Maybe. I left New Cross on Friday. Well, actually, by the time we actually departed, it was Saturday morning, but you catch my drift. Being home is somewhat peculiar because I haven't yet left my 'London' mentality, it feels like I'm still there. There are, I think, two reasons for this. One, I am still here, kind of. This week, I am in London every day except Tuesday, despite the fact that I no longer have a home here, but instead I am sleeping on Gwilym's floor. Two, I don't think even when I return home again for good on Saturday, I will be entirely settled at home. I guess things take time, but I've left things unfinished here. Like my degree, which I am all set to fail this year, to re-submit next year, which, if I'm being honest, is a quite shattering and entirely disappointing. Oh, sod it, actually I'm devastated. That isn't very easy for me to say, I'm trying to avoid being negative about it and there are some positives, but in as much as I have failed to pass this year, I have also failed to get where I thought I would. I think I've come quite a way as a composer, but still I cannot compose as I would wish and I can't put the battle down for a while, but I need to carry on until I re-submit next year. That might leave my head in London for a while. This, however, is speculation. I don't know what is going to happen in my life in the next year. This isn't at all a bad position to be in, because it leaves me with no other option than to trust God, who has my life in His hands. When things do not go according to our plans, it can be too easy to fight against what has happened and try to force our own scheme on our lives, to try to 'sort things out'. God surely has better plans than I could dream up, so it is much wiser for me to seek His plans for me and to follow Him. I know He is trustworthy and will not lead me astray. The trick is remembering God, which I can be a little lax in doing, so if any Christians out there want to pray that I will remember Him, that would be great. I will be doing the same.
I dare say I shall miss London. Maybe not right now, as I am ready to be home for the moment. London is far from perfect and a difficult place in which to live, but it has been my home for a year and has impacted my life to some extent. I have made some good friends with whom I wish never to lose contact and that, at the very least, will keep me coming back to London to visit.

Goodbye, you charming scoundrel...

One year, a million stuggles and one realization

2005-09-05T11:00:00.000+01:00

1:25 a.m. I have had a hard few weeks. I missed the deadline to hand in my composition portfolio and was given a vague extension to sometime this week that I am now starting to worry about.
Music is hard. Actually, more to the point, composition is hard. Very hard. I was talking to my good friend John Lely in the university cafeteria last week, and we were discussing this very issue. I told him that I found composition "terrifying". I don't think I exaggerate. Composition is all about making decisions regarding sound and I am incapable of making these decisions. Well, I am incapable of making them with any kind of speed, anyway.
I told John about how I am obsessed with the freedom to compose. The freedom to decide. I told him how I wanted to know my potential materials and how to use them with an absolute freedom, without necessity to adhere to guidelines, but to be truly creative. I thought, in essence, that the possibility exists to do anything with the spectrum of sound available, known and unknown, that we are free to compose precisely as we wish. I even made the effort to understand what materials are available, and I think I do understand in a broad sense. I even made lists and charts and lines of the possibilities of sound. It's a little like opening a box, and what I have now are more boxes. Every now and then I might learn some more of what is in the boxes, but I know more stuff is there, and I can even hypothesize on their nature. If only I could see them all, I could be free to compose without hinderence or resistance. What freedom! But now, in yet another late night compositional struggle, I realise that it is no freedom at all. I gaze at all my materials and their possibilities and I am paralyzed. I haven't clue of what the hell to do with them, and it makes me feel like someone who has never studied music in their life. So I start to make more charts of possibilities, so I might make a decision. But it is of no use, because the same thing happens again. And again and again and again. It is a most sobering experience to realise that while you think you have been creating, you have only been acknowledging what already exists. Even if others may protest it, I consider that I have failed to reach my objective.
That word I used earlier, 'resistance'. When I talk of resistance, I mean anything that affects or influences choices to be made in composition. I had long considered resistance counter-creative, something that hinders the creative capacity, which is why I been fighting it for so long. But John spoke of resistance as something to be thankful for. It gives creativity a context and materials a boundary. And contrary to what I thought, it gives a freedom to compose, which is what I have been going mad trying to achieve for so long. I now think resistance will also enable me to see my materials, when I have merely been dazzled by them up to now.
Perhaps this is what composition is really about: making clear what was previously out of focus. We cannot create something that does not already exists. Perhaps my job as a composer is to hold sounds up to people so that they may hear. Damn, it has been too long since I have heard a thing. It's too important to gloss over. Nobody enjoys any music because it's form or maths or whatever. It is to do with what is heard. As Stravinsky said of Pierre Boulez: "I like Boulez because I like Boulez." Everybody says that Feldman's music is so beautiful, yet he uses the minimum of material. It is a joy to hear Feldman's music, because you can hear the sounds themselves. The system is nothing but a conduit for the sounds. I used to get so hung up on people who were obsessed with systems and forms for composition, because it seemed ridiculous to me that one might focus more on the way something is produced rather than the end result. Obeying a form and not your ears. But now I see that systems and forms, instruments and contexts - "resistance" - isn't the enemy I thought it was. Resistances are conduits for sound.
I've been going about this all wrong...

I'm going to fail my degree

2005-08-24T10:30:00.000+01:00

It's true
I'm Shit!

"My Mum's not a lesbian..."

2005-08-15T12:14:00.000+01:00

...that was one of the first things I said to my old housemates, as I moved into their house, in my last year at Kingston. My mother and her friend, Barbara, had helped me move my stuff into Smith Street. As we took in the last few bits of recording gear and assorted paraphernalia into my new residence, I considered that it might look a little odd to my new housemates that two middle-aged women were helping me with my stuff, rather than the more socially recognised 'Mum and Dad'. "I hope they don't think Mum and Barbara are partners!", I thought. To make clear the situation, I exclaimed to them all, with astonishing concision, that this was most certainly was not the case. The response, as far as I can recall, was a unified perplexity.
I expect you're wondering why you needed to know of that story, other than to embarrass my mother (she will be most pleased ;)). The reason is that it represents fairly well my desire to be understood, or to be more precise, my fear of being misunderstood. This desire (or fear, if you look at it from the other angle) is most tiring and I have in the past, reacted against it. I don't know if you'll remember a much earlier post, when I was banging on about a time at Kingston when I wanted to be someone I wasn't. "Enigmatic" was the word I used to describe how I wanted to be. I guess I figured that to be somewhat of an enigma must be quite cool, or something. It fitted, anyway, with the kind of people I admired - Richey Edwards, Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, etc. and was a million miles away from my over-explanatory, paranoid, awkward and bumbling persona. But the fact is I'm not an enigma. Indeed, I think if you try to work me out, it probably wouldn't be that difficult (although it may be a task to drag some things from me). Mainly because I'd explain things over and over again.

There are two main things I am afraid of in being misunderstood..
1. Causing an response of derision or disrespect arising from the lack of understanding, and targeted at me. But most importantly...
2. Causing the misunderstanding person to themselves feel upset or hurt as a result of the lack of understanding.

I think this fear comes from a lack of trust. I know myself what I mean when I say or do something, but I cannot seem to trust that the message has got through correctly or not, so I'll expand again and again, until I'm not too far from being quite patronising. Why do I do this? Most people are more than capable, I'm sure, of understanding what I say without needing to spell it out for them. To me, it seems like I need complete control, even of what someone understands, not because the situation calls for it, but because if I don't control the situation, I will stress over the possibility of miscomprehension, with the possible results being the fear of the two things listed above. Ever noticed how I say "D'you know what I mean?" quite a lot?...
So I'm a control freak, which only causes stress, when in control and out. And that's kind of how I've felt for quite a while now - Stressed.
I expect after all that, you're waiting for the "but now I figured it all out...", but I'm afraid I have none. I haven't quite worked out how I can be more at ease with less control, but I have confidence God will help me. I have asked Him.
I do know from experience that when not in control, things do not necessarily fall apart, and when in control, I don't always make a good job of things. I took control of what I considered to be a question hanging in the air, on that moving-in date in Kingston, nearly three years ago. I acted on it and my housemates understood as a result, but they sure as hell thought I was a bit odd to go with it!!

The Musical Baton

2005-07-24T11:21:00.000+01:00

I have the Musical Baton...

Amount of music on your computer?
8.9 GB. Or so my iPod tells me. iPods are immensely cool and hence, I am also immensely cool.

Currently listening to?
er... BBC Radio 4 (Immensely Cool!!)

Five songs that mean a lot to you?
In no particular order...

"Selfless, Cold and Composed" by Ben Folds Five
"Lover, You should've come over" by Jeff Buckley
"Undercovers On" by Rival Schools
"Place to be" by Nick Drake
"I know it's over" by The Smiths

...and I'm not going to tell you why ;-)

Top five albums?
Like Chin', who passed the baton to me, I hate this question. So instead, here are five albums that I can recall playing non-stop for weeks...

1. "The Holy Bible" by Manic Street Preachers. I don't listen to this album too much anymore, due to the extent of my listening to it back in 1999-2000. However, I still think it's an excellent, and when I'm feeling brave, I give it another listen.
2. "Either/Or" by Elliott Smith. I got into Elliott when "Figure 8" was released and really dug that album, but in an uncharacteristic display of restraint, did not go and buy his other releases. Until one day, I heard of Elliott's death and did as my self-control had previously prevented. Either/Or is an simply awesome album. "Pictures of me" and "No name no.5" stand out for me.
3. "Grace" by Jeff Buckley. Maybe a little obvious, this one. Seems to me that the songs he wrote were the best on the album. "Lover, you should've come over" is my personal highlight, with "Dream Brother" running a close second. I'm starting to realise as I type this that the past three albums mentioned are fairly tense and a little miserable. I wonder it all means....
4. "Poses" by Rufus Wainwright. Kind of a recent one, this. I only bought the album a couple of months ago, but it has been a regular feature in my listening since. I used to think he whined a little, but he's actually got a great voice and is an awesome songwriter! Particular favourites are "In a graveyard" and "The Consort". I seriously recommend going out right now to buy this...
5. "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake. An ex-girlfriend (T, for all those interested) introduced me to Nick Drake in 2000. As a guitarist, I loved "Five Leaves Left", but the beauty of the songs on this album is awesome. However, this album also reminds me of when I had food poisoning on new year's day one year, so despite how awesome the record is, it does leave me thinking of bile.

Last album bought?
"Psyence Fiction" by Unkle

Recent discoveries?
Sufjan Stevens. Courtesy of Chin' (and kinda subsequently, Ben)

Passing on the musical baton:
“Whosoever may come, let them come”
But hang on!! How about changing the baton to the literary baton? So the questions would be...
Currently reading?
Five books that mean a lot to you?
Top five books?
Last book bought?
Recent discoveries?

That said, if you want to just pick up the musical baton, that's fine too....

An answer for Alison

2005-07-24T11:20:00.000+01:00

Acquaintance Alison, friend of my good friend (and fellow composer) Ben Kamen, (I do not know her surname, apologies) asked me recently to describe what music I compose, in one sentence. I spent a long time thinking on this and gave a rather trite answer, which did not satisfy the said acquaintance's interest. Ben ascribed my response to a lack of understanding what music I compose. I must confess that at the time, he was indeed correct. However, I have had time to think on this and have finally produced an answer which should please Alison, in that it is, if not genre-focused, at least conclusive.
Having recently re-thought the plethora of musical possibilities open to me, I realise that while it may by a good thing to commit to the development of only one or two ideas in any composition (in order to preserve a musical coherence), it would be no less than foolish of me to narrow the potential of musical creativity available to me by deciding upon a particular music to compose. I think this is especially important as a student composer, who has more opportunity to be truly creative in musical thought than one who receives regular commissions (although that would be nice!!). Instead, I decide to gaze upon all my musical materials and wonder how I might compose them. This experience is both wonderfully exciting and daunting. I have silence as a canvas and it would be unfortunate to always fill it with the same sound, so I fully intend to experiment. Not with numbers or computers, which are preparatory to sound, but with sound itself. I do not believe this makes me an "experimental" composer, but simply a composer who enjoys a compositional liberty, that comes from the knowledge that he has the opportunity to be truly creative.

Iain Sucks!!!

2005-07-22T17:40:00.000+01:00

Listen, I'm sorry how much I suck at these blogs. There used to be a time when I might post two entries in a day, yet now it has been over two weeks since my last entry. And I'm sorry, for all those who have been wondering where I've gone. I guess actually, I've been all over the place, in my head. Perhaps that is why I have not documented anything for such a long time, because I wouldn't really know where to start. I think it's time to get my thoughts properly in order. I shall. Expect a post soon!

Steven Gerrard, Liverpool and London

2005-07-06T18:36:00.000+01:00

I'm sorry it's been such a long time since I last posted. I guess I haven't really felt like talking much, hence I didn't post. For all of you who might be wondering.. I'm doing OK.
I can't deny that I'm feeling rather smug today. This is down to two things:

1. Steven Gerrard decides to stay at Liverpool. I am naturally pleased at this news, he's a great player and I think we really need him. I was fairly irritated yesterday because it seemed quite likely that Chelsea would get him. Well, it was irritating full-stop that he might be leaving, but I especially despise Chelsea FC. I don't deny that the football industry now is heavily money orientated, but I really feel that Chelsea effectively bought the Premiership with a Russian oligarch's bottomless pit of cash. The privilege of being able to attract world-class players had nothing to do with a great team spirit or form or whatever, but a flash of cash. And the idea of them effectively hijacking one of our best and most inspirational players really wound me up. But it transpires he cannot leave the club he loves. That's great, just the kind of team spirit that I always thought held Liverpool together and united fans. Awesome.
2. London are to host the 2012 Olympics. More great news. Apart from all the usual "great for the city and the country, blah blah blah..", I guess there's some satisfaction seeing London win over Paris, not because Paris wouldn't have been a great place to host the Olympics, because I'm sure they would have been, but in light of M. Chirac's frankly moronic and xenophobic comments regarding Britain’s cooking and reputation for trustworthiness. That does sound a little bitter, doesn't it? But rest assured, I'm not having a pop at the French, just Chirac.

I'm sorry if I sound a little nasty. That isn't my intention. In fact, what irritated me a little today was the comparison drawn by some idiot hack in the Evening Standard, of the Battle of Trafalgar and the "Battle of Singapore" (where the vote happened today). What a moron! I really don't like that kind of one-up-manship where the main focus isn't achieving, but simply outdoing a rival, regardless of one's own success. I am genuinely pleased without having to resort to that attitude.

However, I assume if Jacques comes to the 2012 Olympics, he'll bring a packed lunch...

...unfinished thoughts...

2005-06-20T14:36:00.000+01:00

Last Tuesday, I showed an uncharacteristic display of frustration as I was more or less ridiculed by some friends for my thoughts on music. I had, with the others in question, just performed and therefore listened to a performance of Cage's 4' 33". This, for the large part, was a highly enjoyable performance. The sound of Worcestershire is far different from that of London and a rare treat for one who spends the majority of his time in the city. It is a far more subtle in the way in presents itself to you, yet no less interesting. This is all providing one listens, of course. My friends chose only to hear the sound of their own mocking in their heads and could not hide from their faces how ridiculous they thought the listening was. Perhaps inevitably, a laughter filled applause finished the piece. How long had they anticipated the moment they could use this particular 'oh-so-quick-witted' response, I wonder? I would hazard a guess at 4 mins and 33 seconds. How sad it is that folk can no longer listen. Let me quote something Cage said in response to the accusation that 4' 33" is not music;
"Ah! you like sounds after all when they are made up of vowels and consonants. You are slow-witted, for you have never brought your mind to the location of urgency. Do you need me or someone else to hold you up? Why don't you realize as I do that nothing is accomplished by writing, playing or listening to music? Otherwise, deaf as a doornail, you will never be able to hear anything, even what's well within earshot"
Why is it acceptable to gaze at a landscape, countryside or otherwise, or even a photograph of 'something' and muse on it's "composition", yet to listen to the same space is ludicrous? How sad it is that folk can no longer listen.

------------------------------

I think Americans get a bit of a hard time from us Brits. Sure, Americans get a hard time from everyone, but just as our sceptre'd isle has a "special relationship" with the US, so we give them a bit of "special" flak. I need not go into especial detail of the kind of flak that gets bandied about. I've heard many a comment to the tune of "dumb", "loud", "oblivious to the outside world", "debaser of the English language", blah blah blah blah blah.... . These, of course, are just social stereotypes, yet are used with some seriousness. OK, so stereotypes don't occur for no reason, so I guess that some of the accusations brought against Americans must have been at least to some degree true, at some point. But many of the accusations levelled are also a matter of serious conjecture and are, for want of a better word, just plain unfair.
What I have found since being in London is that we Brits can be a cold, self-righteous sort. Of course, this is also a wild generalisation, but what is disturbing is that unpalatable social characteristics can rub off on people and I'm slightly afraid that I am party to the cold, unloving nature that fog the streets of London. Of all the different kinds of people I have met in the nine months I have spent here, the Americans have been far and away the kindest and most gracious. The guy who works in the Art section in Waterstones Covent Garden had the good nature just to be kind and amiable. The girl who helped me with my bike into my halls building was kind enough to spare a few seconds to help. I have found myself appreciating an American accent in London, because it seems to represent some an attitude of community and kindness. Why can I not recognise that in Londoners?
Perhaps it is a cultural thing, but if it is our culture to think of one's self above others and have the kind of self-righteous attitude to make accusations against others whilst blind to our own inadequacies, then it is time we took a long, hard look in the mirror.

------------------------------

These are unfinshed thoughts. Maybe at some point I will resolve them...

The man with the microphones

2005-06-17T17:34:00.000+01:00

It's coming.....

2005-06-17T15:17:00.000+01:00

Sorry guys, I've been a bit lame on the posting front recently. Suffice to say, I shall return soon...

A place to call home

2005-06-02T13:31:00.000+01:00

Harassed by what the future holds, my thoughts have recently been around where I may be from September and what I may be doing there. I suppose it's rather natural, as I approach the end of my course at Goldsmiths' I should muse upon what is to happen next.
These thoughts have been taken up a little like this...

What can I do to earn enough money next year?
What do I want to do next year?
What does God want me to do next year?
Where do I want to be next year?
Where does God want me next year?

The fourth and fifth questions down have particularly taken my attention, since I recently decided that I didn't want to live in New Cross again next year. This may not come as a surprise to some of you who have heard me rant about New Cross' badass nature, but it surely isn't an awful place to be. I reckon a large part of the issue is not fear of mugging, but that I don't think I will ever be able to call London (let alone just New Cross) Home. This, I know, all sounds a little much for a man of twenty three to be saying, but it holds at least some gravity with me.
I have been wondering if, although a Southerner by majority habitation period in Thatcham, I am still really Northerner where it really matters. Born and raised (at least some time in the North) by two born and bred scousers, with a large majority northern extended family, this must have had more than a passing cultural influence on me. I don't just mean psychologically, either.
I, as far as I know, have always been very close to my parents. My father was a complete role model for me (I was convinced into accepting a pair of brogues for school shoes by my parents, because my father wore a pair to work) and I consult my mother on pretty much everything I do. I am sure then, growing up even in adolescence, I have been much influenced by my parents' Liverpudlianness (I'm not sure that's actually a word) or Northernness.
The last time I was in Liverpool was a year ago, when I had a(n?) university admission interview at the University of Liverpool (I know that does sound fairly obvious, but there are two others in the city!!). To be honest, I was a bit lost trying to find the faculty of music, so I stood in a street I had never before encountered and it took all of ten seconds for somebody to help me out. OK, so this isn't a particularly exceptional example, but I can't help thinking that it's part of what I value about Liverpool and the North. Community. (sorry to plaigerise a topic here, Chin :)) The last time I boarded a bus in Liverpool, pretty much everybody was talking with everybody else and I'm sure they didn't know each other, but they were on the same bus and that seemed enough for them to be friendly enough to chat. This was a little while ago, I must admit, but I'm sure things haven't changed that much.
London is a place where millions of people co-exist individually. Indeed, it seems to lack community altogether. I could have stood with a massive map outstretched infront of me with confusion written all over my face in London and I'm sure nobody would have helped me. I'm not surprised either. In London people daren't even smile at each other, let alone help each other out. In the words of an underground busker I met a couple of days ago.. "Cheer up, ya miserable bastards!!" (While people turn their heads away in embarassment. That made me smile)
Don't get me wrong, I like London. It's exciting and fast-moving and one can't help but to be drawn in, but maybe the ways of the people do not match well with mine. Perhaps 'home' will never be London, but instead the North. Perhaps Liverpool.
Oh and another thing, don't assume I have a rose-tinted view of the place. I know it's not all that perfect. I recall seeing bullet holes in a wall down Anfield Road. It's a place where the people have a reputation for theft (particularly car wheels) and where they all wear tracksuits, despite the fact that it's been 15 years since the end of the 80's. But on those kind of terms, London can do a lot worse (except the tracksuits, of course. Read 'Burberry caps and white trainers' instead).
I know some people will consider these thoughts to be fairly influenced by the recent Liverpool victory in the European Cup. Well, you're not too far off the mark.
Last Wednesday was an emotional night and the first time I have properly hugged my brother.... ever, I think. I returned home to watch the game with my brother and his friends in a pub and due to the trains being the way they are, I arrived in time to see Milan put in their third of the night. The next two hours that unfolded placed me in an emotional medley of anxiety, desperation, relief and utter jubilation. It was truly amazing. It wasn't just getting caught up in the excitement of it all, since I was irritatingly nervous from about six hours before kick off, it seemed to mean that much. That sounds a bit sad, doesn't it? I guess what I'm trying to say is that the very real and sober experience of caring that much maybe wasn't just merely about football, but maybe also of where I have always considered my roots to be, in spite of my southernness, in Liverpool itself. And I'm sorry for sounding so saccharine about it.
These, however, are only my thoughts. I haven't prayed much about it and that is somewhat of a priority at the moment. Maybe God will send me North. Maybe He'll keep me in London, or even send me abroad. I don't know. Which is exciting... and completely terrifying at the same time. :)

A composition about composition

2005-06-02T13:27:00.000+01:00

At 3am
Draw an imaginary circle on the floor
Walk around the imaginary circle
When you can no longer think coherently, stop
Go to bed

Champions of Europe!!!!

2005-05-26T09:30:00.000+01:00

Pictures from uefa.com

A poem questioning the excess of underground stations in New Cross

2005-05-21T15:22:00.000+01:00

O East London Line!
Your termini oft I contemplate;
Have we any need for
Both New Cross and New Cross Gate?

"Dire cela, sans savoir quoi..."

2005-05-20T15:27:00.000+01:00

I consider myself extremely lucky to be able to do what I do (with a little helping hand from HSBC). I've studied music since I was seven and I haven't wanted to stop since (except maybe when I couldn't be bothered to do my piano practice, but that was a long time ago) and so here I am, sixteen years later at Goldsmiths', still doing it. What is slightly irritating about studying music, though, is that everybody has an opinion on the subject. I don't think there are many other subjects outside of the arts that have quite the same wide-ranging reach, in terms of inducing a reaction and hence, an opinion. Therefore, I'd wager that there aren't very many people who haven't got into a heated argument about music. People have the unfortunate ability to make rather polarized statements on the subject (I have been guilty of this myself) and perhaps inevitably, disaster ensues.
Down the pub t'other night, an aquaintance said, "Nirvana weren't very good and Jeff Buckley is over-rated." I used to expropriate the use of "I think.." before those kind of statements, to inject a little credibility into the argument, but now, I think even that doesn't go far enough. It's fairly clear he thinks that, since he made a fairly concrete statement on his thoughts, but how does he know Nirvana weren't very good? Based upon which criterion? I might have accepted his opinions a bit more had he unpacked his argument a little, placing his argument into a more qualitative context, for example, in the context of technical instrumental ability or originality of songwriting, for example. Instead his argument lay in this.. "the only reason they're popular is because he [Kurt Cobain] killed himself..", which isn't even an argument on their musical quality, but on their popularity!! After this, I stopped listening, because I was tired and couln't be bothered engaging in a dialectic with somebody who didn't even know the terms of his own argument. Had he maybe said "I don't like Nirvana or Jeff Buckley" or "I think people are attracted to the maudlin appeal of dead musicians and don't listen to the music, which I personally do not like", I may have kept my ears open a little longer.
This is kind of indicative of the polarized views that cause me pain. It doesn't stop at popular (with a small p) music though. People have views on every kind of music, even contemporary 'serious/classical' music. This is the kind of music I compose. Because of this, I have had my work disregarded as "not music" and "arty farty crap (or something like that)", and my opinions on music therefore make me a "snob". By who? Usually people with an extended listening of readily available music, but whose arrogant attitudes towards music render them unable to see any further than the end of their own nose. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm all that special, but at least give me a little credit for knowing what I am at least trying to do. This is not arrogance on my part, I accept fully that everybody has the right to an opinion on art and music, but many do not know where the line between subjective opinion and objective fact lies. So when somebody makes objective statements that they've mistaken for opinion, (based on what they know from having a semi-interest in music) it's comparable to somebody correcting a political science graduate (perhaps from LSE) on the finer points of American foreign policy because they read some of what Simon Heffer (or someone) had said in 'The Daily Mail'.
I have to say, the 'What is Art?' or 'What is Music?' debate really bores me. The dialectic largely ends in what art or music is for the individual, which is a most ridiculously arrogant standpoint. The individual therefore assumes complete knowledge, since their objective truth on the identity and boundries of music/art are limited by what they, at that point, understand. How on earth do these people think art ever progresses, if it is limited by what we now understand? Thank heavens history gave us people, pioneers, that were able to think outside of their own understanding.
Damn this postmodern world...

Nathan Barley lives!!!

2005-05-17T18:17:00.000+01:00

I just got interrupted in the refectory by a guy handing out anti-G8 flyers who's manner was somehow familiar....

"You look fuckin' well stressed out there mate, yeah?"
"OK. How's th.."
"Yeah mate, you wanna fuckin' get on down to this shit tonight, yeah? Forget what you're doin' tommorow, 'cause we're gonna lay down some anti-fuckin'-establishment shit, yeah?"
"OK..."
"Gonna be well slick, yeah?"
"er....."
"Totally fuckin' wicked, yeah? Poetry starts at seven, yeah? Check it, check it!!"
"OK... (painful pause) Bye."

It's gonna be Well Jackson!!! Apparently...

"Totally fucking Mexico!!" Picture from channel4.com

How to be creative... (Part Three - Pens and Chairs)

2005-05-17T13:15:00.000+01:00

So here is my latest epiphany. I think that my search to know how to be truly creative is forcing me also to search for who I am. In the studios where I work, students can book a weekly studio time in a specific studio. This really is the best way of doing things, since you know that every week, you have at least that time to work in the studios. What I have found, though, is that after a couple of weeks in one studio, I am no longer able to work productively, so I have to move on somewhere else. One week I spent three hours working under the piano in the main studio. Why? Heaven only knows, but it seemed to work - I got a fair amount of work done. So there's another question I am unable to answer: What is the most productive working environment for me? I starting to believe that nowhere really is, but that I need constant change.
This is just the latest in a long list of what I have considered important in order to compose. For most of this year, I have pinned creative difficulties not on myself, but on what I need in order to be able to compose successfully (whatever that means!!). Adorno was the first to confuse: He made me realise that a full and comprehensive knowledge of musical material (see 'it's not the taking part...') was required of me and I'm pretty sure I don't have that, but then, who does? Then Morton Feldman was next (Actually, fellow-composer and friend Ben Kamen alerted me to what Feldman said, so I guess it's his fault), with his assertion that a decent pen and chair was necessary. This actually led to dramatic actions for which I am not proud. Suffice to say I returned the pen.

Morty... Bastard ruined my life

"All those things, having the right pen, a comfortable chair...if I had the right chair, I'd be like Mozart."
Morton Feldman

I wanted to be like Mozart, and I figured that Feldman might have something in his train of thought. Now, of course, I recognise that as a little misguided. Don't get me wrong, I think those kind of things can have an influence, but not that much influence!! I recognise that things like pens, chairs, computers or a nice room are things that can certainly help the creative capacity, but they can't compose for me (But damn, I wish they could!!), so the issue must lie ultimately with me. Which means I need to look at myself and work things out.
I have been banging on for ages about not wanting to "compose by numbers", using formulae and charts to write music, because I know that's a cop-out. A brickie is not an architect and likewise, a musical constructivist is not a composer. So how the hell could I have struggled with this for so long without realising that if I really want to compose, the compositional capacity lies within me, not a pen or chair!! Morty, you're a fool!! (Well, you would be if you weren't already dead!)

Credit for finding the Feldman quotation must go to Canadian Nicole. Cheers!

Time Out

2005-05-13T21:56:00.000+01:00

Before I start, let me apologise for both the brevity of this post and how long it has taken to come.
Sorry.

I haven't been so well this week. I haven't been very ill, just enough to make life a little more uncomfortable than usual, so I've been spending quite a lot of time in my room, either sleeping, reading or working slowly but surely. And in a wierd kind of way, I have been grateful for this short period of illness, because it's forced me to stop and relax for a bit. I spend a lot of my time running from place to place and I'm pretty sure I don't need to. I reckon there are a few reasons for this and I won't go into all of them now, but one of them certainly is that I concentrate on what I might be missing if I don't go out, rather than what I actually need to do. Now, I'm not hedonistic, but sometimes I have found myself in the union at midnight, despite the fact that I didn't sleep the night before, or that I have no money and cannot afford any more beer. The words "sod it" often leave my mouth in those situations. I guess that isn't all that bad either, every now and then, to leave routine and stop being so sensible, but maybe not all the time.
I have thus discovered this week that taking a little time out to recharge is a good thing. But I also feel a little more 'free' to not rush around all the time, if that makes sense. I can have a hard time saying "no" to people, in regards to doing stuff, but I have been forced to say "no" this week to try to get well. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I didn't wonder what I was missing and I certainly enjoyed the time to consider myself a little more. I think, if Chin' is correct, that as an introvert (and also a thinker) I need to do that, lest I end up completely exhausted (mentally and physically) and going home (Thatcham, not New Cross) to recharge. Which does sound a little familiar....

All questions and no answers

2005-05-07T12:41:00.000+01:00

Work has been hard recently and I cannot deny that despite my bullish attitude in tutorials (I had fiercely defended myself in a recent tutorial), I have disappointed myself in my work. It isn't that I haven't been trying, it's just that the efforts have been in vain.
I'm a man who thinks a lot about his work. I really cannot see the point of spending thousands on a degree course only to leap through hoops and achieve only what I need to pass with a respectable grade. Instead, personal academic development is much more important to me. So I have to place my work here in a relevant context of "how will this progress my ability to compose and understand music better?". In fact, I reckon that over 90% of my work consists of thinking about this kind of stuff, leaving the remaining 10% to a sheer panic about a fortnight before the submission date.
I have been finding recently that my thinking has just produced a whole bunch of questions and almost sod all answers. Don't get me wrong, I still consider thinking about the issues in place to be extremely important if the work isn't to become arbitrary and ultimately, crap, but at the moment the work just isn't materialising!! I have tacked on my wall a whole bunch of questions to which I have no answers...

How is pulse defined?
How is texture defined?
To what extent are texture and pulse integral?
How can established parameters of the above become realised in composition?
Why do fresh ideas to me become quickly stale?
How long is my concentration span?
What's going on?

Of course, the last is a joke, but it's a serious matter! I'm sure my tutors dispair of me, I wouldn't blame them. I don't think anyone could deny my efforts, but maybe my tutors worry should provoke a more productive response from me, like actually completing a composition. I shall certainly try.

Or maybe I should have really studied the philosophy of music instead....
(Now my mother panics. :) Don't worry Mum, it was a joke!!)

The curious incident of the coffee at lunchtime

2005-04-28T17:05:00.000+01:00

Sometimes things happen in life that you just couldn't make up. Here is one of those situations...

Today I grabbed a coffee from the refectory and headed down to the electronic music studios where I do most of my work. I placed my coffee on the table next to the mixing desk (!) and started to get to work. (Actually, I was surfing the 'net, but that's academic) The next thig I know I have managed to knock over my coffee in the space between the mixing desk and the computer keyboard. These are two fairly anti-coffee pieces of equipment, so it was damn lucky that the coffee missed both of them. However, the mocha puddle started to spread towards both. Let me tell you all now that there are large signs all over the studio warning students that food and drink are most definitely NOT allowed. Eager to sort out the mess before the studio manager saw, I looked around for anything with which I could mop the offending liquid up. Nothing. Except. My Shirt.
This was not a particularly palatable option, but the spread was getting faster, so I really had no option. I whipped my shirt off and smothered the coffee. Phew! But what do I do now? At this precise moment, Ian, the studio manager comes in the door, slightly confused and by his expression, a bit scared too. "I spilt my coffee", I said, "and my shirt was the only thing to hand". So there I am, shirtless, explaining myself, feeling like a complete and utter moron.
Ian kindly offered me a spare shirt he had for 'emergencies' (?), which turned out to be the most vile, loud hawaiian monstrosity I have seen for quite some time and I walked back through New Cross with my head hung low. On my return (mainly to return the shirt), I received some quite odd looks from members of the music department. I would have liked to thought that Ian could have been a little more discreet about the situation, but instead, the gossiping git told everyone. I wouldn't be surprised if he sent an email to all the staff...

Attaining Perfection

2005-04-26T10:47:00.000+01:00

Composing, like any art, can be the cause of much self-inflicted harm. What I mean is that, although there are various rules for composing music, they're not rules as such. They're more like optional guidelines for successful composition, tested only by time, but there is nothing to say that one cannot write exactly as they wish. This lack of objective necessities about music means that any qualitative bench mark is set only by the individual composer. The standards I set for myself are far too high, since I want near-enough perfection for my work. Here's where the self-inflicted harm comes in, because I cannot compose perfect music. Indeed, I think that nobody can compose perfect music, subjectively or objectively. That doesn't stop me from beating myself up about it though.
When I was at secondary school, I took art until the age of fifteen and pretty much every piece of work I handed in was at least a week late. Needless to say, I received a couple of detentions for this reason, but I maintain that this was slightly harsh. Perhaps you could put it down to artistic temperament, but I could not see the point of working hard for weeks on a piece of art, only to rush it at the last minute, purely to meet a deadline. I felt that this was a complete waste of time. I wanted my pieces of work to be right, to my mind at least, therefore it always took me a little longer. My standards were not perfection back then. Merely liking my work was good enough for me, but I never was satisfied with the results.
So here, at Goldsmiths, things haven't changed much, except that now I want to acheive the impossible. Perfection. I can't say it hasn't been a struggle. The amount of work that I have put in the bin would cause a look of derision from my tutors, I am sure. If I ever become pleased at a grade I've acheived here, it isn't because I think I've created a great piece of work, it's because I know I didn't deserve it, because it was the biggest piece of trite, banal horse faeces ever to grace the planet. Not that I want unfair grades, that isn't it. What makes me happy about getting half-decent grades for what I consider shit work, is that I must have higher standards than my tutors. This shouldn't come as too much of a surprise to me though, since what I want is perfection.
I think I am wrong to have this attitude, because it can't be healthy to feel dissapointed at all my own work, it must bring me down a little. It isn't arrogance, either. I don't feel I must be able to attain perfection, because "hey, I'm Iain Farnsworth, the genius composer, I can do anything better than anyone!", it's more about what I want to acheive and that must mean my priorities are out of whack somewhat.
I have to smile at the example of Carl Orff, who burnt all his works other than 'Carmina Burana' because he thought they were terrible. Why he didn't burn Carmina Burana as well defeats me.

L'homme est trop sérieux

2005-04-25T16:20:00.000+01:00

Yesterday my mother told me I was too serious. My MOTHER. Of course, I protested, but as I did so, I found myself slowly changing my mind from annoyance at such a ludicrous statement to a gentle, vexed agreement. This change of emotion kind of proves her point, I guess.
When did this happen? Why? I would love to think of myself as a cool, fun loving guy, but apparently I'm not. While others can laugh heartily at 'Hot Shots, Part Deux' despite the crass and glib slapstick therein, I find myself groaning audibly and wishing I was elsewhere. Of course, it is a terrible film, so I maintain the right to groan, but you catch my drift. I am now quite scared that I lack the ability to have fun, or even be a bit silly. This fear will obviously do nothing to help me have fun or be silly.
I've just been telling a friend of some of the events that happened while I was a student at Kingston, such as storming around the town centre with my trousers on my head (at night, I should add) singing 'Insane in the brain', trying to mimic the 'Hill, but ending up sounding rather like a constipated person and a cat. This wasn't the first time my trousers have ended up on my head on a night out, either. Of course, I was drunk, and I'm not advocating getting drunk. I think it's pretty nasty, not to mention thoroughly ungodly and you wake up wondering why somebody had crushed your head in a vice. But just where did the fun go?
Perhaps it is just my disposition, but I'm beginning to envy those who can shrug off misfortune and smile. Maybe I've always been impressed by sad figures. Albert Camus, Jackson Pollock, Elliott Smith, Richey Edwards, Nick Drake.... they all had something I liked. That 'outsider' thing. They have issues and problems and they're not quite cool enough not to care. Instead it eats them up and that kind of made them even cooler. Genuises (sp?) killed by society. Does that sound perverse? When I was younger, I definietly wanted to be like that, but without actually being a nutcase. I found them strangely enigmatic and maybe if you dig deeper (and I haven't properly analysed this, so I may be wrong!!) you may find that I figured that being sad and enigmatic attracted women. Of course, this didn't quite work out for me. I'm quite pleased at this now, because aside from it being a wickedly crass and cynical way to get a girlfriend, I would have had to keep up an effort to be enigmatic, which would have been hard. Largely because I am not enigmatic. I talk far too much for that.
Not that it was all a pretence. This was all before I became a Christian and I wanted to find out who I was. I don't think I ever did though, because I'm pretty sure I stumbled around the place looking gloomy without exactly knowing why. In my first year at university, I discovered to be enigmatic and a bit of a sad genius meant being locked up in your room for days, drinking bottles of vodka for breakfast, appearing at uni every few weeks to hand in your latest piece of prize deserving composition. I didn't like the sound of that, since I was pretty sure I'd get very lonely very quickly , I didn't want to work that hard and although I could take my booze, the idea of spending days with my head down the toilet or having to spend time in hospital due to alcohol poisoning didn't sound very 'cool' to me.
I couldn't really infiltrate the 'fucking angry at the world' clique, because I wasn't that angry, so I wound up just conceding to myself that I would have to just be 'me'. Only problem being that I didn't know who 'me' was, so maybe inevitably, I wound up trying to appear cool, and failing, so just being a bit sad instead. With a little time off to put my trousers on my head. Naturally, this combination also failed to attract the women, exept a girlfriend I had for ten days, called 'T'. It took me five days to get her real name out of her, (Victoria, for all those interested) and a further five days for her to realise that being drunk and using trousers as headwear wasn't that attractive, so she dumped me. Which made me a little more sad. Still, all's fair in love and war, and I guess I only got what was fair.
I guess since then, that this predisposition to be a bit sad and serious must have stuck, which isn't ideal. I don't have much reason to be like that, so maybe I should try to shake off this predisposition and smile a bit more. I'm sure it would do me some good. Maybe I'll feel better and work better. And maybe then girls would like me.... (I'm joking, for all those now worried at that last sentence!!)

How to be creative... (Part Two)

2005-04-15T17:42:00.000+01:00

This is getting more interesting. Working hard is all good and well, but how do you know if the work put in is so disproportionate to the actual outcome of your labours? Well, I guess this comes only in retrospect, when after a few hours, you look back over your work and realise you've barely scratched the surface. This happened to me this week, with my composition-in-progress. So there I sat, wondering why it still wasn't working and came to a few conclusions.

1. Creation needs inspiration. I don't mean some mystical 'falling out of the sky' kind of inspiration, but the kind of inspiration that comes from experience. For example, being genuinely and emotionally roused to compose or write or whatever, from an experience. An experience of art or music or life or whatever. It doesn't have to be a spectacular experience, if it's enough to cause the desire to create, it's surely enough.

2. You've got to be in a place to be inspired. Physically and/or mentally.. I think. This is a hard one to pin down, so I shan't spend a long time on it, but I don't think New Cross is the perfect place to be inspired. I could be wrong. Then again, neither is Thatcham, so heaven only knows what I should do. I'll leave that one there, though.

3. You need to act on inspiration. Because it goes. Sure enough, I'll just be lazy and let the moment pass, then it's gone and I'm left in the same place I was before. That's my own fault though. I'm just too damn lazy to work on instinct like that.

and finally,
4. You can't supress inspiration with rules. This one always gets me. I get an idea and immediately I'm forced to limit it's possiblities by using notes and rests and all that crap. If it sounds like, I don't know, 'metal scraping against metal in the rain', then write that down, rather than limiting your own ideas with external rules and guidelines. That's a hard one to do, because rules and guidelines are comforting. It needs a bit of a breach into the unknown...

Now I'm not going to run away to rural Scotland with a manuscript book, getting up at 6 in the morning to roam the glens and return with a pocket full of dreams. So I guess I need to figure out where I am now in order to figure out what inspires me to write music. I might end up quite surprised...

I'm so confused...

2005-04-10T20:27:00.000+01:00

I have returned back to my 'native' Thatcham for a few days to relax and also work on my aforementioned composition, largely because it's more relaxed and hence, easier to work here. But I have been thinking about Thatcham and London. If you've been reading my blogs, you'll see that I've already written on Thatcham and New Cross, so this is kind of an extension. Maybe I'm a little confused.
I was invited to see Idlewild play at the Reading Hexagon with some friends on Friday. Actually, my invitation came at about 8:20pm, forty minutes before Idlewild were due on stage, so I had a mad dash to get from Thatcham to Reading in time. On the way to the train station, a full snow storm brewed and I arrived at the station covered from head to toe in snow. A sole figure stood at the station and apparently amused by my snowy state, piped up a conversation with me about how ridiculous the weather was. Not conversational gold, I grant you, but it was pleasant and made me smile about how kindly some people can be in Thatcham.
Anyway, I arrive at the theatre a little later. Let me tell you now that the Hexagon theatre has the most stringent anti-fun policies this side of Strangeways. Large posters on the door warned, "Crowd surfers WILL be ejected". A little harsh, I think. Inside, I got my ticket from a very friendly box office worker and made my way to my seat. Very large NO SMOKING signs adorned the theatre. OK, I'm not too bothered by that, but every other gig venue I've been to so far hasn't minded. Next, impressed by a particular series of lighting effects, I decided to take a picture with my mobile phone, after which, a rather self important security guard went well out of her way to tell me off for doing so. Why, for heaven's sake? Do the Hexagon think I'm going to sell a poor quality phone picture that was taken as a small momento of the evening? I have to admit, that really hacked me off!! After the gig, a friend told me that he'd been told in the bar to finish his pint quickly, because taking drinks in the theatre was not allowed (I personally think that the Hexagon would have said PROHIBITED!!!) Anyway, the gig was excellent. Idlewild put in a great performance and I'm pleased I went. I am, however, mildly confused by the mixture of kind people and threatening politics.
And so what about London? On that score, I don't know either. I regularly see people give up their seats on tubes for other people and I've also seen mad dashes for the same seats. I've witnessed kind acts on the streets, but also experiences the lonliness and indifference of London. I guess this one is going to take a little longer to work out than I expected...

How to be creative... (Part One)

2005-04-06T11:39:00.000+01:00

This is tricky. It's really something that I've just begun to think about, largely because it's been forced upon me. I have a composition to finish by this Friday and it's getting more and more difficult to even put pen to paper. I've been putting back my own deadlines for this composition, because I haven't been feeling "very creative" recently. But if I'm rational about it, it's quite silly for one to claim they're unable to create simply because they're not "feeling very creative at the moment". What does that mean? I would concede that there are those who are more creative than others, but I reckon in any creative work there's 5% natural creativeness and 95% sweat, blood, toil and tears. However, I'm sure many people, including reknowned and celebrated artists, think that creativeness is some kind of mystical thing that comes as it pleases, causing one to simply wait around until they're made able to create again.
Let me be brutally honest here. I'm a naturally lazy man. I've learnt to force myself to work hard, but it can be a real effort sometimes. It's convenient for me to use the excuse of "not feeling very creative" to stop working and wait until I felt able to compose again, because what I'm trying to compose (my music, not this blog) right now is really taxing me. That is surely lunacy, though. Pieces of work do not come from a clear blue sky, so how I can expect one to fall? I think I need to concede that if a piece of work is hard, then it doesn't mean that I need to wait until what is desired 'falls from the sky', but that I need to work harder to complete that piece of work.
I reckon one of the main reasons that being creative can be so hard is because it requires a decisive mind. One needs to make desicions at every level of the work, from it's conception to it's completion. All of those decisions matter and that makes the decision making a heavy task to bear. OK, well at least it should if you care about your work. If you work alone as a creator, all your decisions reflect upon you and there is nobody to whom you can pass the buck.
It does make sense then, that so many people wait for the creativeness to come to them. They can avoid making the decisions themselves and simply do as they're told by their flashes of creative inspiration. I would guess that the more you work at creating, the decisions become easier to make and hence the impression of 'creativeness'. Hey, it wouldn't be an impression, it would be creativeness!! I would also guess that this would make for more effectiveness at acting on inspiration, wherever that occurs.
Whatever, I have to start creating now, so I have no choice but to work damn hard. I shall let you know whether my hypotheses turned out to be true or not...

It's not the taking part, it's the winning that counts

2005-04-05T10:49:00.000+01:00

That might sound really unsporting, but it's true. Of course, it all depends on what game you're playing and that's where things aren't always as they seem. You might think that opponents are playing the same game, but to quote Gershwin, "it ain't necessarily so." I remember playing rugby for my school in my teens, where almost every game was a guaranteed defeat. Apart from a few motivated (but ultimately deluded) team members who believed we could win the match, our game was to make it back to the changing room with some dignity and all our teeth. We at least all kept our teeth.

"I'm Still Alive!!!"

Complete drubbings were regular and too many games ended with our heads dropping and hence, painful full-time scores. We were actually double losers, since we could neither win the game, nor our own game. I am grateful for those rugby years, because it helped me to take defeat on the chin (Something needed for being a Liverpool fan in the mid to late 90's). However, I can't deny that although I rarely got upset at losing a rugby match, I regularly got upset because I didn't play as well I should have. Losing my own battle really hurt, it counted.
Of course this goes further than rugby. I am what you might call a 'perfectionist' and that's tough, because it means I am always disappointed with myself. The standards set by myself for myself are unattainable. I always take part but never win. Let me give you an example. I recently went through a bit of a dilemma over musical material and it's composition (I'm a composer, don't you know?) which ended with the conclusion that I need to fully understand all my musical materials (that's EVERYTHING that comes together to form music) and how they relate to each other, in order to write at least half effectively. I will never attain that kind of knowledge and if that is my game-plan, it is already lost. I could spend my life trying to win that game, but I've decided that I'm not going to, because it's stupid and pointless and I don't want to lose a stupid and pointless game. Especially when I know that a comprehensive knowledge of musical material won't necessarily mean an objectively compelling musical composition. I may be young and naïve, but I know that in a world where the 1812 overture is considered a masterpiece and 'The Teletubbies' theme tune can make it to no.1 in the charts, valiant efforts may stand for nothing.
So what, then? Change the game-plan? Well, yes, I guess. But more specifically, I think I need to work out whether or not a 'game' is even worth starting. This calls for brutal honesty and careful introspection. Unfortunately, I'm not very good at either, so I have quite a bit of losing to go, no doubt. What is my 'game-plan' in terms of musical composition? I don't know just yet, but as soon as I know, I'll be sure to let you know. What I do know, however, that following Jesus is certainly worth it, because the most important battle has already been won by Him on the cross. Not all of my personal struggles have been won, but I know that following Jesus through all manner of struggles is worth it because of the assurance of eternal life with Him for those who trust and follow Him. I think I need reminding of that fact fairly frequently. It really IS worth it!
Oh, and if Liverpool lose against Juventus tonight, it will hurt!!

Thatcham vs. New Cross

2005-04-04T14:27:00.000+01:00

After yesterday's musings on where I belong, I took some time to think about my current living arrangements and found some interesting parallels.
They are two fairly contemptable places, but for quite different reasons. Thatcham is kind of an add-on to Newbury (Hoity-toity racecourse town) and hence likes to deceive itself into the impression that it's a nice, civilized part of England, where everybody leaves their front doors unlocked and kids play hula-hoop in the middle of the road. But no. Let me show you a picture of something that happened in my home town of Thatcham... (Picture from BBC.co.uk)

The incorrect way to remove a contact lens

Yes, that is a picture of a harpoon in someone's face. Nice, huh? OK, so it isn't representative of what normally happens in Thatcham, but it doesn nicely highlight my point that Thatcham is a town in contradiction.
New Cross is also a bit of a contradition. It masquerades as a bit of a dive, where you consistently risk your life out on the street. First impressions do tell you that, such as the car wrapped around a lamp post outside my residence, the perpetual garden fires and offers of drugs. But it really isn't as bad as all that. If you look hard, you can find friendly corners of New Cross, where people are kindly and you don't feel threatened. Indeed, some people even profess to quite like New Cross and a CD of local bands has been released, aptly titled "I love New Cross". I'd wager that nobody ever made a CD called "I love Thatcham". OK, well maybe I am talking New Cross up a little. Bad things do happen, I'm sure, but it does seem like a place for which people feel something. I think these feelings are hidden somewhat by the facade of danger and dereliction.

Because somebody stole the plug...

Now if only the positive traits of both places merged, you might find a place where it looks like a nice place and actually, it is. A place for which people profess their love, a place where people don't get harpoons stuck in their face and a place where you don't fear for your wallet. A place where you can leave your front door unlocked and play hula-hoop in the road. Sounds great...

A sense of identity?

2005-04-03T22:00:00.000+01:00

It must be nice to be someone who has a real sense of identity. I mean in terms of belonging. The Welsh, Scottish, Irish, American, Australian, etc. all have a sense of identity, of belonging to somewhere. Somewhere they can call home. Even some English folk have this, such as Geordies, Scousers, real Cockneys, even Brummies. I'm sure they're quite proud of they're regional heritage. They know they belong somewhere and so does everyone else, because their accents are undeniable proof of their membership.
I'm really a Southern lad. I come from Thatcham in Berkshire, which is basically nowhere. Hoity-toity Newbury is very nearby, where everyone has a delusion of grandeur, mainly because of the racecourse (I'm sure all racecourse towns must be like this). Reading is the nearest major town and it isn't really a place you'd visit in a hurry. But the worst thing for me has been the lack of a unified identity. Nobody wants to belong to Thatcham and I don't blame them. My parents are two born and bred Liverpudlians and I couldn't be more jealous. I try to cling on to this and claim for myself some of this belonging, but I think I'm going to stop, because it really is hopeless. I even applied to the University of Liverpool so that I could resettle there and feel that belonging. It's time I stopped pretending or even wishing. I'm not from Liverpool, I am from Thatcham. Screw it, why should I be ashamed of that?
I guess this is now where I condemn myself for being so self-centred and insecure. As a Christian, I should have discarded this desperation to belong to somewhere else other than Thatcham, because it really isn't important. The only important fact is that I belong to Jesus and my citizenship is in Heaven. That is where I am destined to belong and my identity is in belonging to Jesus. Even writing those words make me feel excited and want to throw away any shame or pride of where my home is. Indeed, even in terms of being British and English, which I have held on to with some pride in the past, I wish that pride to go, because I guess it doesn't matter that much. I happen to like England and I don't wish to pretend to be something I am not, so I shall continue to be an Englishman, but whose identity is not in being an Englishman, but belonging to Jesus.

Foreboding...

2005-03-31T18:11:00.000+01:00

I've a strange sense of forboding. I have so far created three websites - all of which I have completely failed to maintain past the first week. The first I created when I was 16. It was very poor, but what can you expect at 16? In 1997? I didn't have much of an agenda for it, I simply thought having a website would be great, but alas, it wasn't.
The second, 'randomnight.com' was the result of one random night, where a couple of friends and I travelled to Bournemouth at 2a.m. to paddle about in the English Channel and bury Gwilym in the sand.

Gwilym buried in the sand

We vowed after this to have more random nights and I would document them in the afforementioned website. There were no more random nights (except one which wasn't very random - we planned it) and it took me eight months to get the website up. I never updated it.
My final effort was a website to promote my own work, which never got past a logo on the front page.
So, why have I a strange sense of forboding? Well, I wonder if this blog will ever make it past the first week and be the first site I've managed to maintain. It's not that I'm lazy (although that is true), it's more discipline in documenting thoughts. Now, this isn't meant to be a diary, but the documentation of thoughts is similar. I have never kept a diary, but I wonder if this experience will bring out some hidden truths, or if I'll discover things about myself that I've never known. I like to think so.

You don't get owt for nowt!! (At least you shouldn't)

2005-03-30T20:45:00.000+01:00

You may feel this a little geeky, but I spent most of this afternoon trying to find free fonts on the Internet. After an hour or so, I stumbled across a page whose first sentence was “I spent most of this afternoon trying to find free fonts on the Internet”. Intrigued by the article, who’s author was obviously suffering the same plight as myself, I read on what was a well-constructed argument on the issue of font piracy.
You see, a while back I discovered a font on my PC that I had planned to use as the principle typeface for this website – Bodoni. As for the details of its acquisition, they remain a complete mystery, since various fonts seem to leap into my computer, without my even knowing (the font fairies come in the night, when I’m asleep, presumably). Anyway, ‘tis a sad fact that computers suck and I had been forced to completely reinstall Windows due to some major fuck-up a couple of months ago, without the forethought to back-up my fonts. Hence, Bodoni had been lost forever. With my limited knowledge of the fraught and stressful world of typography politics, I figured that since I acquired it without even meaning to, then it mustn’t be too hard to find a passable free alternative on the internet. How wrong can a man be? Marko Karppinen has hit the nail on the head with this evaluation of the underground free font scene – “I dare you to type “free fonts” into Google and feel lucky. The parallels to smut become obvious in a split second”. I shan’t reiterate the whole of Karppinen’s article; you can read it yourself by going to http://www.markokarppinen.com/20020424.html. I guess the gist is that, as with anything, there is a price to pay if you want something. That goes for music too, but I'm not ready to tackle that particular thorny subject yet. Suffice to say, if something is worth having, it's worth paying for....

Hello, Yeah?

2005-03-29T18:30:00.000+01:00

Let me get something straight from the start. I'm not going to explain myself here, or try to advertise myself for self glorification purposes. This isn't the diary of Iain, either. What I choose to fill my days barely excites me, so I don't know how it could excite you. No, that isn't important. Infact, this blog isn't very important, but here it is, in all it's ugliness. The thoughts of a bored man; the product of too many hours of pointless contemplation for all to see. I hope it at least causes a thought in your heads.
Oh, and if you enjoy reading others ‘blogs’, and I suspect if you’ve got this far on mine so far, you must be pretty hardcore, then be sure to visit Neil Bennion’s site about his trip around the Americas, Litter from America. That is a diary, but it is wickedly funny and fairly entertaining to boot. Anyway, here you have my blog, but please be sure to let me know if I start writing pieces littered with ridiculous rhetorical questions like that sexually frustrated woman on ‘Sex and the City’.

This could be the start of a beautiful relationship...