While not in the least bit surprised to hear him pipe up about it, I was amused to read Morrissey's comments about the inescapable impending nuptials of Prince William and (the admittedly rather foxy) Kate Middleton this morning. "Why would I watch the wedding? Why would I watch it?" he foams in exasperation.
You know, that could have been me talking. In fact, I can almost hear myself say it in my unmistakable Brummie-cum-Brightonian-cum-Nanaimoite twang-drawl-slur. Like The Moz, I am one of those who couldn't care less about this event. I am not and have never been a royalist, and would genuinely rather tune into a programme showing nothing but a cow's head chewing cud against a grey background for six hours than watch this wedding.
Without getting too deeply into it, especially my thoughts on monarchies in general (my Canadian citizenship application is still in motion, so I must be a good boy), I get rather concerned that people can happily lap up this event, clapping at the telly, whilst not for one moment considering such as the fact that the London security operation alone will cost British taxpayers in the region of twenty-two million quid ($33,000,000 CAD). If you bung in the cost of Ms. Middleton's dress, their honeymoon in Clacton-on-Sea and the vol-au-vents at the do afterwards, you'd be approaching a sum near the combined Third World debt. Not to put too fine a point on it, that is an absolute disgrace. Just think about the thousands of positive ways in which that sum could have been spent. Like on me, for instance.
I can't help but wonder what the couple themselves think about this? As presumably 'funky,' forward- and right-thinking, young 21st century citizens, surely this knowledge would considerably take the shine off their occasion? And it's not like they absolutely must get married in such an over-the-top manner, is it? Or must they? I blame his granny, myself.
My thoughts and what I vainly hope would be Will and Kate's are delightfully summed up by this hilarious claymation video from Joel Veitch of the completely mental, ridiculously funny rathergood.com website:
Anyway, aside from everything, on the most basic human level I wish the youngsters a good life together. As someone from a family riven by domestic violence, acrimonious divorce and bitter feuds, yet who has found utter joy in his own marriage (which, including Susan's dress, my suit, the rings and everything else, cost about two-hundred quid) I wish them well...even if their happy day only serves to bankrupt the country.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Optimus Not-Very-Good
If there is anyone more curmudgeonly than me, it's Stuart Ashen. I just love the guy. Some of you may have seen his video reviews of crappy Christmas items that Susan and I sent out to our address books this last festive season. But if not, one of the things Ashen does, quite brilliantly, is offer his opinion on stuff that, for any given reason, he finds tacky, poorly made, or just plain ridiculous. However, as funny as his take may be, he is usually absolutely spot on in his assessment. Ashen's latest video is a truly classic example of this that had me rolling about in hysterics earlier today. I will say no more about it, instead imploring you to carve out eleven minutes from your day to watch this extremely amusing piece of film. Be warned that there is a tiny bit of profanity on two occasions, so you should probably consider this as NSFW and keep it from the ears of little ones and sensitive souls. Enjoy!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Record Store Day: The Pros & Cons
So, there goes another Record Store Day.
Having spent the lion's share of my working life in various capacities within the music industry, including many years in independent retail, I will naturally applaud any initiative to place a spotlight on these institutions - if only for one day a year. But that it is needed at all breaks my heart.
Without going into all of the well documented reasons why it is happening, I still find it extraordinary - surreal, even - that the days are with us when bricks-and-mortar music retailers are disappearing from the planet faster than you can say "play that funky music, white boy." As someone for whom record stores have been second homes for over thirty-five years, it is nothing short of a cultural tragedy to me. It feels like one of my limbs is being slowly amputated, which kind of hurts a bit. Okay, a lot.
But whatever I might think, the disappearance of music stores continues apace, and that's just the way it is. And while Record Store Day may ultimately only delay the inevitable, it is at least a brave attempt to unite the independent music retailers of the world for a few hours, and remind the general populace that whatever they might have read or heard, while the quaint old concept may be on death's door, it is still breathing and putting up a fight. So to this end, Record Store Day is important and fantastic. If the publicity surrounding it brings more people out to doff their cap to the store(s) in their communities, throwing a few dollars their way, then it has to be worthwhile. As it stands, however, I believe it is greatly flawed.
What I sorely object to about the whole thing is the annual slew of limited edition releases issued for Record Store Day. They are of course intended to attract custom. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great that there is product released specifically to tie in with what should be considered a celebration of record stores, but the fact that pretty much all of it is limited in number to the degree of pointlessness really sticks in my craw. Yes, these items will ensure that, at least in some towns, line-ups will form at the record store doors at dawn, guaranteeing increased sales for that store - being partly the point - but, I'm talking to you, record labels - what about the fans?
I've been a huge fan of R.E.M. for twenty-eight years and pretty damned keen on the work of Nick Cave for over two decades. I've spent an unreasonable amount of cash down the years in pursuit of the musical pleasures these acts afford me, and an equally ridiculous amount of time nerdily obsessing over them. While it has been impossible to get my hands on every release or associated object of desire, I have remained loyal, buying every title as it was released.
Both acts were subject to Record Store Day releases, but when I read about them it was not excitement or anticipation I felt for the imminent snaffling of new goodies, but sheer frustration. When there are just a few hundred copies globally available, really, why bother? I know I will never see copies of these instantly rare items...at least unless I am prepared to shell out a ton of money to those non-fans at the record store doors at dawn, the bastards present not to celebrate the role of the record store in their community, but out for the sole purpose of making a buck. Lo and behold, looking at Ebay.ca today there are copies of R.E.M.'s Three vinyl box set selling for up to $125 and Nick Cave's band Grinderman's Evil 12"/CD pack for around $50. Those prices will certainly increase, as will the quantity of them on sale. Supply and demand, dear readers...
The thing is, working in our local indie store as I do, I witness firsthand how ridiculous this whole scenario is from our side of the counter. When presented with the list of scores of Record Store Day 2010 titles by our suppliers last year, we ordered a whole mess of them - probably fifty-plus titles in accordance with our demographic. I think we received eight or nine maximum for the day itself. Preposterously, a few more dribbled in during the weeks following the day, and even then all of them were the less attractive titles on offer. No sign of any of the hot stuff. This year, also, we received just a handful, and were unable to inform customers in advance of what we would get, if anything at all, having no idea what the hell would show up. What sort of scenario is that? Record Store Day 2011 ended up being just another Saturday for us. I don't believe this has much to do with the Canadian distribution system, more that there are simply way too few to go round, so - just as it has always been in this business - what there is available will go to the most "important" accounts.
Way to go to "celebrate" record stores. Way to go to look after the fans. Record labels, consider the word "demand," then the word "supply," okay? Work with the founders of Record Store Day towards a solution that will please everyone, as it can only serve to prolong the life of the record store, you see? While the day itself is ever more crucial, the whole concept of the limited edition releases sucks. It must be drastically rethought, so everyone can get a piece of the pie if they want it, thereby genuinely enjoying their local record store and consequently feeling likely to support it in the future. It is not rocket science. All this current set up does is breed resentment, and it's a certainty that all such a negative emotion is going to achieve is help drive another nail in the record store's coffin.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A Solid Fifteen Minutes
On the Monday following the Japanese earthquake and tsunami I had a mercifully brief exchange with a guy who shops regularly at the Nanaimo music store I work at part-time. He's not really the brightest fellow, and did reveal once he was a crack addict for fourteen years, but I've always found him personable enough. On my bus that day, however, after saying good morning to me when boarding at his usual stop, our encounter unfolded like this:
"What about all that in Japan, eh?"
"Yes, it's awful, a terrible tragedy," said I.
"At least they've got the problems, and not us," he responded.
"Er, what? Eh?" I answered, incredulous, genuinely believing I had either spectacularly misheard him, or had entered some alternate universe moments before he said it.
"I really hope we (meaning Canada) don't send a bunch of money and troops and stuff, as they would never help us if it happened here," he said. Passengers then started to look around at him with frowns and genuine anger in their expressions, but no one spoke. He was oblivious, of course.
Beyond wishing to rid the world of this moron by lethal injection at that very moment, I hardly knew what to do or say in response. I blathered something about the world community always needing to rally around any nation in distress, then had to jump up to get off the bus and head for work. I couldn't stop thinking about his remarkable outburst all day.
Anyway, on a similar theme, the mighty satirical publication, The Onion, today included a quite fantastic piece in their weekly emailout that I simply had to share alongside my own personal episode:
EARTH—Following the recent earthquake and tsunami that tragically took the lives of an estimated 20,000 Japanese citizens, the planet Earth was afforded a good 15 minutes during which its inhabitants behaved like actual human beings, sources reported.
In the quarter-hour that followed news of the massive natural disaster obliterating entire towns and killing or injuring thousands of innocent men, women, and children, social scientists around the globe reported rare—and in many cases unprecedented—occurrences of individuals feeling genuine empathy for their fellow humans, recognizing the evanescence of life, and experiencing a deep sense of awe and humility toward the overwhelming power of nature.
After the 900 seconds had passed, however, this behavior reportedly ceased. "Though its duration was incredibly brief, in this span of time the entire human race was able to temporarily forget all its petty political interests, narcissism, greed, and ironic detachment for a few moments and behave like real people with compassion and respect," social scientist Dr. Robert Westbrook said of the short-lived burst of basic decency. "There is no evidence of any significant bickering, lying, preening, or self-involvement during this period. In fact, it appears that all 6.7 billion human beings simply stopped for one quarter of an hour, became filled with genuine emotion, and said, 'Oh, no, those poor people,' while keeping their baser instincts in check."
"That they instantly went back to being needy, solipsistic whiners does not change the fact that, for a fleeting moment, the world was a wholly humane and gentle place," Westbrook added.
According to experts, immediately after the 15 minutes were over, the vast majority of the Earth's people seemed to move on from the harrowing, incomprehensibly tragic event, and have spent the subsequent time attempting to get ahead in their careers, ignoring the plight of those desperately in need, thinking solely of themselves, and acting how they generally act at all times throughout their lives.
A sizable number of human beings around the planet were reportedly able to negate the sympathy and goodwill they had just exhibited toward Japan by moments later getting into an uninformed argument about the efficacy of nuclear power, making a crude Godzilla-related joke on their Twitter or Facebook page, or telling themselves they didn't even know these people so it wasn't really worth getting too upset about.
"In those 15 minutes, the thought of making light of the events in Japan did not even cross a single human being's mind, yet evidence shows this restraint expired sometime between the 15:00 and 15:01 mark, when certain segments of the population began to speculate that the disaster was somehow 'payback' for Pearl Harbor," said sociologist Karen Perkins, adding that within seconds deep heartache and grief quickly segued into trivial and barely related political debates. "By the 15:30 mark, millions had told themselves that the Japanese were a somewhat robotic and unemotional people who would recover just fine; by the 15:50 mark, 1.8 billion people were already thinking about lunch; and by the 16:15 mark, all but 0.8 percent of the world had moved on completely."
According to Perkins, the exceedingly rare occurrence of the human race simultaneously feeling a moment of tenderness and selfless concern for others only has a handful of modern precedents: Similar behavior occurred for 22 minutes following the 2010 Haiti earthquake, for six minutes following the 2004 tsunami in Indonesia, and for slightly under four seconds after news first broke of the trapped Chilean miners last year.
Experts calculated that in order for everyone on Earth to act like a good person for 30 minutes, 1,000,000 human beings would have to die in a volcanic eruption or flood. For an hour of worldwide charity and altruism to take place, statistics suggested that an entire ethnic group would have to be genocidally murdered in a single afternoon on live television.
In order for people to be decent and caring for an entire day, there reportedly would have to be only 12 survivors left on the planet, though by the next morning they would likely begin arguing, slandering, and killing each other for resources.
"We should be encouraged by the fact that the world was able to come together like this at all," Perkins said. "Even though, in the end, it only lasted a few minutes longer than it takes for the average person to shower."
Still, a minority of scientists disagreed with the conclusions drawn by their colleagues. "Frankly, I reject this notion that it takes tragic events like [the earthquake] for the people of Earth to act like real human beings for once," MIT sociology professor Samuel Lark told reporters. "After all, most modern research suggests that acting like a callous, unfeeling, vain prick is exactly what being a human being is.
"What about all that in Japan, eh?"
"Yes, it's awful, a terrible tragedy," said I.
"At least they've got the problems, and not us," he responded.
"Er, what? Eh?" I answered, incredulous, genuinely believing I had either spectacularly misheard him, or had entered some alternate universe moments before he said it.
"I really hope we (meaning Canada) don't send a bunch of money and troops and stuff, as they would never help us if it happened here," he said. Passengers then started to look around at him with frowns and genuine anger in their expressions, but no one spoke. He was oblivious, of course.
Beyond wishing to rid the world of this moron by lethal injection at that very moment, I hardly knew what to do or say in response. I blathered something about the world community always needing to rally around any nation in distress, then had to jump up to get off the bus and head for work. I couldn't stop thinking about his remarkable outburst all day.
Anyway, on a similar theme, the mighty satirical publication, The Onion, today included a quite fantastic piece in their weekly emailout that I simply had to share alongside my own personal episode:
EARTH—Following the recent earthquake and tsunami that tragically took the lives of an estimated 20,000 Japanese citizens, the planet Earth was afforded a good 15 minutes during which its inhabitants behaved like actual human beings, sources reported.
In the quarter-hour that followed news of the massive natural disaster obliterating entire towns and killing or injuring thousands of innocent men, women, and children, social scientists around the globe reported rare—and in many cases unprecedented—occurrences of individuals feeling genuine empathy for their fellow humans, recognizing the evanescence of life, and experiencing a deep sense of awe and humility toward the overwhelming power of nature.
After the 900 seconds had passed, however, this behavior reportedly ceased. "Though its duration was incredibly brief, in this span of time the entire human race was able to temporarily forget all its petty political interests, narcissism, greed, and ironic detachment for a few moments and behave like real people with compassion and respect," social scientist Dr. Robert Westbrook said of the short-lived burst of basic decency. "There is no evidence of any significant bickering, lying, preening, or self-involvement during this period. In fact, it appears that all 6.7 billion human beings simply stopped for one quarter of an hour, became filled with genuine emotion, and said, 'Oh, no, those poor people,' while keeping their baser instincts in check."
"That they instantly went back to being needy, solipsistic whiners does not change the fact that, for a fleeting moment, the world was a wholly humane and gentle place," Westbrook added.
According to experts, immediately after the 15 minutes were over, the vast majority of the Earth's people seemed to move on from the harrowing, incomprehensibly tragic event, and have spent the subsequent time attempting to get ahead in their careers, ignoring the plight of those desperately in need, thinking solely of themselves, and acting how they generally act at all times throughout their lives.
A sizable number of human beings around the planet were reportedly able to negate the sympathy and goodwill they had just exhibited toward Japan by moments later getting into an uninformed argument about the efficacy of nuclear power, making a crude Godzilla-related joke on their Twitter or Facebook page, or telling themselves they didn't even know these people so it wasn't really worth getting too upset about.
"In those 15 minutes, the thought of making light of the events in Japan did not even cross a single human being's mind, yet evidence shows this restraint expired sometime between the 15:00 and 15:01 mark, when certain segments of the population began to speculate that the disaster was somehow 'payback' for Pearl Harbor," said sociologist Karen Perkins, adding that within seconds deep heartache and grief quickly segued into trivial and barely related political debates. "By the 15:30 mark, millions had told themselves that the Japanese were a somewhat robotic and unemotional people who would recover just fine; by the 15:50 mark, 1.8 billion people were already thinking about lunch; and by the 16:15 mark, all but 0.8 percent of the world had moved on completely."
According to Perkins, the exceedingly rare occurrence of the human race simultaneously feeling a moment of tenderness and selfless concern for others only has a handful of modern precedents: Similar behavior occurred for 22 minutes following the 2010 Haiti earthquake, for six minutes following the 2004 tsunami in Indonesia, and for slightly under four seconds after news first broke of the trapped Chilean miners last year.
Experts calculated that in order for everyone on Earth to act like a good person for 30 minutes, 1,000,000 human beings would have to die in a volcanic eruption or flood. For an hour of worldwide charity and altruism to take place, statistics suggested that an entire ethnic group would have to be genocidally murdered in a single afternoon on live television.
In order for people to be decent and caring for an entire day, there reportedly would have to be only 12 survivors left on the planet, though by the next morning they would likely begin arguing, slandering, and killing each other for resources.
"We should be encouraged by the fact that the world was able to come together like this at all," Perkins said. "Even though, in the end, it only lasted a few minutes longer than it takes for the average person to shower."
Still, a minority of scientists disagreed with the conclusions drawn by their colleagues. "Frankly, I reject this notion that it takes tragic events like [the earthquake] for the people of Earth to act like real human beings for once," MIT sociology professor Samuel Lark told reporters. "After all, most modern research suggests that acting like a callous, unfeeling, vain prick is exactly what being a human being is.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Stereophonic Bird Tennis
Whenever I catch a bus downtown I take the opportunity to read, so as normal yesterday morning had my head buried in a book while waiting for the bus to arrive. (In this instance, it was Stuart Murdoch of Belle & Sebastian's highly entertaining collection of diary entries, entitled The Celestial Cafe.)
I was joined at the bus stop by two young girls; I presume they were sisters. The younger one was about eight-years-old, her sister maybe fourteen. The latter was chewing gum for Canada and staring intently at her cell phone from the moment they turned up. I smiled, they smiled, then I returned to Murdoch's amusing musings.
From somewhere in the distance behind us came the hoot of an owl. The little girl immediately became animated, excitedly looking up at her sister with imploring eyes, chirping: "Wow! That's an ow-ul! An ow-ul!" The sister didn't break her cell phone-brainwashed gaze for even a millisecond, retorting: "Yeah? So? What's the big deal?" "But it's an ow-ul!" whimpered the little one, clearly crushed at her big sis' lack of enthusiasm for, and connection to, the real world.
Then from above us to our left came the unmistakeable drumming of a woodpecker. I looked up to see a beautiful Northern Flicker atop a lamp post. Here's one, but in its more familiar setting of a tree:
A couple of seconds after the drumming ceased, more drumming came from my right! Then the left again, the right, the left, the right, for several cycles until it stopped altogether. "What on earth are they doing?" I wondered, all but dizzy from the sterephonic bird tennis.
The bus stop I wait at is situated pretty much bang in between two lamp posts on the opposite side of the road. Although I couldn't see it, what I was hearing clearly indicated there was another Northern Flicker on the lamp post to my right. In drumming back and forth like this, it seemed obvious they were communicating with each other, but what were they saying? All I knew was that it was delightful, and an encounter with the natural world I had never before experienced. I immediately called Susan (on my incredibly basic, purely functional cell phone) at work to blather about what was going on.
The bus arrived. The young girls boarded. The small one looked crestfallen and tossed aside. The teen was still chomping on her gum and gawping like a moron at her effing cell phone, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her sister was still with her. I wouldn't have been so surprised if she'd turn around and asked her who she was and why was she following her. I also boarded, sighing (for the ten billionth time this year) in resigned despair at the all-immersive portable communication/entertainment technology of the digital age.
This whole scenario had occupied just three minutes or less.
Having spoken to my bird expert friend, Jon Carter, this morning, I know now that the Northern Flickers were defining territorial bounds. He explained it was two males at the probable edges of their respective territories, informing the other that there will be a right ol' tear-up if they should overfly the mark. They apparently choose to drum on metal lamp posts simply because the sound is so much louder, therefore more threatening. And there I was hoping the little buggers were discussing how ironic it is that as cell phones have evolved they've actually made human beings less communicative.
I was joined at the bus stop by two young girls; I presume they were sisters. The younger one was about eight-years-old, her sister maybe fourteen. The latter was chewing gum for Canada and staring intently at her cell phone from the moment they turned up. I smiled, they smiled, then I returned to Murdoch's amusing musings.
From somewhere in the distance behind us came the hoot of an owl. The little girl immediately became animated, excitedly looking up at her sister with imploring eyes, chirping: "Wow! That's an ow-ul! An ow-ul!" The sister didn't break her cell phone-brainwashed gaze for even a millisecond, retorting: "Yeah? So? What's the big deal?" "But it's an ow-ul!" whimpered the little one, clearly crushed at her big sis' lack of enthusiasm for, and connection to, the real world.
Then from above us to our left came the unmistakeable drumming of a woodpecker. I looked up to see a beautiful Northern Flicker atop a lamp post. Here's one, but in its more familiar setting of a tree:
A couple of seconds after the drumming ceased, more drumming came from my right! Then the left again, the right, the left, the right, for several cycles until it stopped altogether. "What on earth are they doing?" I wondered, all but dizzy from the sterephonic bird tennis.
The bus stop I wait at is situated pretty much bang in between two lamp posts on the opposite side of the road. Although I couldn't see it, what I was hearing clearly indicated there was another Northern Flicker on the lamp post to my right. In drumming back and forth like this, it seemed obvious they were communicating with each other, but what were they saying? All I knew was that it was delightful, and an encounter with the natural world I had never before experienced. I immediately called Susan (on my incredibly basic, purely functional cell phone) at work to blather about what was going on.
The bus arrived. The young girls boarded. The small one looked crestfallen and tossed aside. The teen was still chomping on her gum and gawping like a moron at her effing cell phone, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her sister was still with her. I wouldn't have been so surprised if she'd turn around and asked her who she was and why was she following her. I also boarded, sighing (for the ten billionth time this year) in resigned despair at the all-immersive portable communication/entertainment technology of the digital age.
This whole scenario had occupied just three minutes or less.
Having spoken to my bird expert friend, Jon Carter, this morning, I know now that the Northern Flickers were defining territorial bounds. He explained it was two males at the probable edges of their respective territories, informing the other that there will be a right ol' tear-up if they should overfly the mark. They apparently choose to drum on metal lamp posts simply because the sound is so much louder, therefore more threatening. And there I was hoping the little buggers were discussing how ironic it is that as cell phones have evolved they've actually made human beings less communicative.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Jumpers for Goalposts: 2011-12 Premiership Edition
It's not April 1, is it? After stumbling over this snippet of ridiculousness in the football gossip section of the BBC website this morning, I had to double-check my calendar in case I had unknowingly been in a coma for three weeks:
Tottenham's shirts for next season could contain computers that will reveal how tired the players wearing them are.
I used to love football. Like, really love it. Today, not so much. One of the many reasons for this is because I don't really care how tired the players of Tottenham or any other professional club get when kicking an inflated bladder about. It's their 'job,' for which they are paid more in a week than I will be for a lifetime of, you know, actual work.
Tsk. Whatever next? Boots that supply them with vitamin supplements by osmosis while simultaneously auto-Tweeting their every kick of the ball? Again, I say tsk.
Tottenham's shirts for next season could contain computers that will reveal how tired the players wearing them are.
I used to love football. Like, really love it. Today, not so much. One of the many reasons for this is because I don't really care how tired the players of Tottenham or any other professional club get when kicking an inflated bladder about. It's their 'job,' for which they are paid more in a week than I will be for a lifetime of, you know, actual work.
Tsk. Whatever next? Boots that supply them with vitamin supplements by osmosis while simultaneously auto-Tweeting their every kick of the ball? Again, I say tsk.
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