My glamorous lifestyle
Said to me this afternoon:
You used to be such a quiet child until you got into photography and people started taking their clothes off for you.
Do you think they were from the future?
Katie Melua at Powderham Castle
I've liked Katie Melua for years. Something clicked the first time I heard 'Closest Thing to Crazy', and it's never gone away. When my dear friends Lil and Tom invited me to see her at a picnic-style concert at a Devon castle, it was a no-brainer. What could be more pleasant?
The weather reports were iffy all the previous week, and even on Saturday it was 50/50 for rain. But Sunday proved to be glorious, leading into an almost cloudless evening as we arrived at a field near the castle with ~2000 other people. We had a blanket and finger food, but were a minority: most had deckchairs and elaborate picnic baskets of cutlery, cheese and wine. One group even had a stand to hold their wine glasses. Not that we cared - we were happy to indulge in pringles, salad, candy floss and pictures of beaver-sticks (don't ask).
We were mid-way from the stage, but pretty much in line with the enormous speakers. I resisted the merchandise tent, except I didn't. Three plectrums for £2 is ridiculous, but I couldn't help myself. Anyhoo.
We relaxed into the evening as the shadows lengthened, and presently the support act made an understated appearance. He was, um, stoned. There's no other word. Either that or he didn't know how to pronounce his own surname. But good nonetheless, with some folksy ballads to start things off.
I don't think of Ms. Melua as a powerful singer - her songs are delicately jazzy, for the most part - but she walked on stage, sat down at the piano, and blasted out Call Off the Search. She completely filled the speakers, and you couldn't help but sit up and take notice. It took me by surprise, but made me happy (my average tastes in singers run to the more bombastic end of the spectrum). It also set a precedent for the evening's songs: the older the track, the more they'd revamped it. Songs from last year's Pictures were very much like the album versions, but My Aphrodisiac is You, from 2003, was very different. It wasn't over the top, though - most became more swingy / jazzy than their album counterparts, but still kept the essence of the original song. That's how my limited musical knowledge interpreted it, anyway.
It was nice to be at a concert with people around whom there's no need to couch your enthusiasm. Lil & Tom like her as much as I do, so there was none of the silly aloofness that some musical situations engender. Indeed, the whole evening was very relaxed, with one-tier tickets, and Lil & Tom discovered you could easily wander up to the stage. Most groups stayed with their food and wine, so the stage-crowd was only five rows deep and you could get very close (this was quite different from the other concert of hers I went to, where the front row was still the other side of a lake). So we took turns at heading forwards.
I've never been that close to a live performance before. In the last couple of years I've picked up a lot about music (though I still have a long way to go) and I found it interesting to watch the dynamics of the band. A dude at the back alternated between bass guitars, mandolins and various other instruments I couldn't identify. Katie mostly played rhythm guitar, with a lead guitarist handling all the tough stuff (and lots of it really is quite tricky - I've tried and failed at the regular riff in If You Were a Sailboat). He spent most of the act deep in concentration, but the rest of them interacted a lot. Katie herself rarely stopped smiling, which, as well as being undeniably pretty in itself, regularly infected the rest of the band.
Katie sang tracks from her three albums, leaving the headline hits for the last half hour. I'd have put money on Closest Thing to Crazy closing out the show, but it wasn't even the final pre-encore track. I headed to the front with my camera for the final two. The first was the only new track of the night, although I honestly can't remember it now. I suspect it was quite the emotional one, though:
Then the band left the stage, and she sang I Cried for You. I think it's a particularly lovely song, and I am in awe of anybody who can sing like that while flawlessly playing an acoustic guitar:
I like ballads, and I like her, and I was standing in the Devon twilight on a warm summer evening with two good friends, and it was great.
Driven to distraction
I had a truly excellent weekend in Devon: great company, Pixar, monkeys and Katie Melua. That's a pretty much perfect combination right there.
To keep me entertained on the drive I bought the audiobook of On Chesil Beach. I thought this was a good plan - I always like Ian McEwan, and this was an unabridged version of a fairly short novel. So I set off, windows wide open to stop me burning up, having set up an iPod playlist with a bit of music and a podcast for when I needed to concentrate, then the book once I reached the motorway. This worked great, and the book started just as I hit the traffic jam.
I don't know if you've read On Chesil Beach. It's about two virgins with sexual hangups on their wedding night. It's far from obscene, but has a few choice phrases in the first ten minutes.
Couldn't do it. You know how in heavy traffic you always end up next to the same cars? All their windows were open too. I tried, but I had to turn it off. 'Engorged penis' was the final straw. What a wuss. It was stop-and-start for much of the M25, so I gave up - I'll listen to it when the world's cooled somewhat.
Lots to write about, but I'm a little bothered this evening and the words won't flow. More soon.
Bad situation
She's fine, but this morning my sister was buying lunch in a small, local shop / Post Office when two men with knives and a mallet came in. She was closest to them, and was ordered back. They dragged a cashier over to the PO counter, smashed up the protective glass, grabbed the money, and drove off. Jane left her details for the police and went home. Aimee wasn't there, thankfully.
I just heard, and every sibling instinct is kicking in, despite there clearly being nothing I can do. I just spoke to her and she sounded fine. Much better than I'd be doing.
I know that, statistically, people don't often get hurt in these situations. I know that knife crime isn't as rampant as the media suggest. And this knowledge does actually help. But. Still. I'm sure I don't need to explain the feelings that arise when a loved one is in a situation like this. Grrrrrrrr.
Devon-bound
Off to Devon this weekend to visit some friends, and on Sunday evening we'll be seeing the lovely Ms. Melua. I've been to a concert of hers before, and this time she's sure to notice and make me her gentleman friend. Toodle pip.
Hancock
Loved it. Favourite film of the summer so far, although hopefully Wall-E and Batman will be stiff competition. I thought it was a great take on the superhero genre, and managed to tread the line between silly and trying-too-hard. It's nice that the trailer didn't give everything away, but I can't say more without spoiler warnings.
RIP Cracker
The cracker is no more. It's gone to heaven, or it's still alive, or whatever. The post is only a few hours old, and there are already over 1000 comments.
I've seen plenty of comments over P.Z.'s cracker controversy, with lots of generally sensible people adopting disapproving tones. I think Rebecca Watson gets it right (as ever):
A percentage of the omgrude crowd is upset because they do not think PZ’s words help further the skeptical movement because he won’t convince any of the hardcore group that they are crazy. I agree that he probably won’t convince many true believers, but I disagree that he doesn’t help rational people. Just about any time someone dares to point out the absurdity of irrational thinking, he does a great service to many other rational thinkers who were too scared or unsure to say so themselves.
Did Trey Parker and Matt Stone convince any true believers when they called John Edward the Biggest Douche in the Universe? Probably not many, but I bet they influenced a lot of young people who might have been on the fence. There’s no one right way to communicate skepticism, and for every Trey & Matt we need a Carl Sagan. For every PZ, we need a Julia Sweeney or a Hemant. If one isn’t to your taste, you’re free to ignore him, but it’s short-sighted to claim that person is hindering the “skeptical movement” just because he’s not your bag.
I'd only add that it was the church who initially tried to impose their fantasies on the real world. That the real world pointed and laughed is only to be expected.
Maybe, just maybe, this will put an end to the whole thing. Heck, even Jesus has had enough.
Rock Band
Earlier this year I was introduced to Guitar Hero, which became the first game in years to get me excited1. It's a simple enough idea: you play a 5-button guitar-shaped thingy, pressing down its strum bar and appropriate-coloured button when a particular note hits a particular area of the screen. It's vaguely like playing a real guitar, and ridiculous amounts of fun. The game is loaded with decent music, and the difficulty levels scale nicely. In April I clubbed together with some friends to buy a second guitar, so one person can play lead and one play bass. This is much better for parties as there's less time sitting around waiting, but we knew there were better things ahead. Namely: Rock Band.
Rock Band is the same thing, but with 4 people: lead guitar, bass guitar, drums and microphone. It costs a fortune: the game's £40 and the instrument kit - with just one guitar - another £100. The final guitar is ~£30, although the Guitar Hero varieties are compatible2. That's a serious amount to spend on one game, and we split it up. A friend had already bought the game for use with his GH guitar, and this weekend the rest of us chipped in for the instrument box. All on the promise that it's great fun.
On Sunday morning we lugged in the enormous amount of kit, plugged everything in, and prepared for the inaugural concert of N00bs in Space. You have to say it like this: N0000000000bs iiiiiiiiinn Sssppppaaaaaaaaace3. Incidentally, it is good to be in control of the controller when choosing a band name, as some people - drummers, say - will opt for The Most Boring Name in the Universe if given half a chance. A veto system is preferable, although I still don't know what was wrong with The Loquacious Fuckwits.
So is it fun? Oh god yes.
Lead Guitar. Come on. Chronic attention-seekers like, say, me, will naturally gravitate to this position. You play the melody and power chords. Most importantly, you also get the solos. At the higher difficulty settings these are do-or-die moments, and tremendous fun. The supplied guitar has five extra buttons at the opposite end of the neck that are only for soloing, and as such don't need to be strummed. This results in a brief moment of feeling cool as your hand slides up the neck, followed by a fit of swearing as you fail to get into position quickly enough. It's very obvious when lead guitarists make mistakes, but wonderful when you don't.
Bass Guitar. Yeah, it's ok. If you're into that kind of thing. It's the Jim Corr position.
Singing. Oh man, was I terrified of the singing. I don't do singing. It's not that I can't hit the notes so much as I can't tell even when I do - it's probably diagnosable as Imperfect Pitch. I haven't sung in front of anyone since the school play when I was 164 and only now try when in splendid isolation on the M5. And here's the thing: the game has pitch detection. An on-screen indicator shows whether you're too high or low, along with the lyrics. You're scored on both pitch and whether you hit the vocal on time. Oh, crap.
I had a go. It was horribly embarrassing and secretly thrilling. I had to be Thom Yorke ('Creep'), Courtney Love ('Celebrity Skin') and...Jon Bon Jovi ('Wanted - Dead or Alive'5 ). I sucked. It's inevitable that your voice will waver as you try to hit the note, but mine just did anyway. It was shameful. But in the very back of my mind I was a little bit happy. 15 minutes of this and my voice died - on Easy, which is pretty forgiving - and I was croaky for another 24h.
Drums. Woohoo. This is the stand-out impressive bit of kit. Four drums and a pedal. Were it four drums, I'd have had a chance. But I struggled with the pedal. Even at Easy level, you have to hit the pedal at the same time as a particular drum, then it'll switch to alternating, and...I sucked. Again. I'd never played a drum kit before, and I'd wondered whether I might discover a new ability. No. Not a picobit of natural talent. Lead guitar is where I live. The others were all much better than me, and I have new respect for drummers. In fact, they don't have to sit with the bass guitarists any more.
Here's a terribly facile observation: the secret is to make sure you're finding it difficult. It's still fun if you're hitting most notes, but you need to be out of your comfort zone for the real adrenalin. When you hit the solo, or nail a particularly tricksy section, or just finish the song without failing, it's really quite the feeling of success. It's actually possible to do so badly you get kicked out of the song, but other players can save you if they've hit particular targets. But only up to three times. This is clever - each player can set their own difficulty level, so you can try something tricky and have it be dangerous but not so much that it'll spoil everything. And it's perfectly possible to substantially improve between the start and end of a song. Particularly one by Rush.
I had a great time. The songs are good and mostly original versions, and the Xbox 360 can download new tracks to keep it fresh. This costs more, but isn't surprising - nothing about this game is cheap. They recently released a load of Oasis tracks, and we got through Don't Look Back in Anger in expert guitar (those of us who are Oasis fans did, anyway), then realised Liam Gallagher can do that, so we probably shouldn't be too proud.
There were a couple of problems. The game itself involves playing gigs, and gaining fans and cash to progress up to the harder songs. Some gigs have surprise setlists which select random songs, but fail to take into account those you've already completed. So you can end up playing the same routine three times in quick succession. But not often. Plus there are apparently concerns that the drum pedal quickly wears out. But these are, currently, pretty minor.
Rock Band is basically Guitar Hero with extra instruments, but has a few neat touches. The most impressive, I think, is the freak-out section at the end of the rockier numbers. After the main melody ends there's sometimes a go-nuts-hit-as-many-notes-as-you-can section, which turns into utter white-noise crescendo as everyone tries to rack up as many points as possible. But at the end of this section come a few isolated chords / notes, and everybody has to hit them to get the points. This was designed in a moment of brilliance, and makes for some dramatic endings, followed by cheers or, usually, abuse toward the offending player.
My favourite moment was the final song of the night: The Who's Won't Get Fooled Again. Particularly the last two minutes: Wonderful pre-storm calm, followed by Very Important drum solo, then BLOOD-CURDLING SCREAM and power chords. It's got everything. Well, apart from bass guitar. But who really cares.
- not a comment about the state of modern games, more about me [↩]
- this is not true in reverse [↩]
- in my head this is a reference to a shortlived CBBC show that I can't remember the name of, but I know it had General Dogsbody in it. It's nothing to do with INXS [↩]
- inexplicably as part of a 4-person gang in Bugsy Malone. That poor, poor audience. Bloody great play though. [↩]
- I actually quite like the band, but the level to which I am not Jon Bon Jovi is ridiculous [↩]
Porch Swing
Some days you can't beat a bit of Elton + Bernie. This is Porch Swing in Tupelo, one of my favourites from his 2004 Peachtree Road album:
As ever, Bernie Taupin's lyrics are worth reading over. I'm continually impressed by his ability to cram such atmosphere into so few words. He's a proper songwriting poet.
A young Scottish lad and lass were sitting on a low stone wall
A young Scottish lad and lass were sitting on a low stone wall, holding hands, gazing out over the loch. For several minutes they sat silently.
Then finally the girl looked at the boy and said, "A penny for your thoughts, Angus."
"Well, uh, I was thinkin'...perhaps it's aboot time for a wee kiss."
The girl blushed, then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
Then he blushed. The two turned once again to gaze out over the loch.Minutes passed and the girl spoke again. "Another penny for your thoughts, Angus."
"Well, uh, I was thinkin' perhaps it's noo time aboot time for a wee cuddle."
The girl blushed, then leaned over and cuddled him for a few seconds.
Then he blushed. Then the two turned once again to gaze out over the loch."Another penny for your thoughts, Angus."
The young man glanced down with a furled brow.
"Well,noo," he said, "my thoughts are a wee bit more serious this time."
"Really?" said the lass in a whisper, filled with anticipation.
"Aye," said the lad, nodding.
The girl looked away in shyness, began to blush, and bit her lip in anticipation of the ultimate request.
"Dae ye nae think it's aboot time ye paid me the first two pennies?"
Heard on Ken Bruce' Radio 2 show. He's Scottish, so it's ok. Adapted from here.




