Et In Arcadia Ego

I am trying to crank this creature back into life. To get back into the swing of being inappropriately personal on media owned by a corporation who will one day use this information against me, I present this year's playlist. A hobby I've kept up for a few years, as an invaluable aid to memory. These are the songs I was listening to, in chronological order; nothing else should be assumed.

1. Giddy Stratospheres (the Long Blondes)
2. And That's Why (Kenickie)
3. Affirmation (Savage Garden)
4. Wildflower (Cee Lo Green; or Brighter Lights; or Fuck You, it's all a great album)
5. Cold War (Janelle Monae)
6. The Only Hope for Me is You (My Chemical Romance; shutupshutupshutup...)
7. In The Rain (Sol Invictus)
8. Wire to Wire (Razorlight)
9. Never Gonna Dance (Fred Astaire)
10. Heavyweight Champion of the World (Reverend and the Makers)
11. My Body is a Cage (Peter Gabriel cover; turn the volume up)
12. The Glorious Land (PJ Harvey)
13. Glass (Bat for Lashes)
14. I'm Deranged (David Bowie)
15. The Revolution will Not be Televised (Gill Scott-Heron)

Listen

Previous years:
listen to 2009

listen to 2008

I don't know what happened to 2010. And in general, the fact I can't bear listening further back than four or five tracks, says everything to me.

Music is different to the other arts.

You might feel a passion for Picasso, but at the end of the day the Guernica is on the wall of the Reina Sophia, and the best you're going to do is a postcard. Theatre is worse, only existing within 90 minutes of time before vanishing again into the darkness. And film, well - you can see the faces and the bodies of an iceberg's tip of those involved: you can see that film isn't yours.

And sure, there are films that have moved me, and my emotions on seeing Apollo and Daphne are going nowhere - but broadly, I know those experiences are also on loan. My love for Bernini is conditional on the Villa Borghesi continuing to exhibit his work. But music! What about "our song"? What about the "song of the summer"? What about that mix tape, or that radio request? We so often substitute music for our own words, or ideas, that it becomes part of us. Should I be paying off Virgin when I wake up humming Wannabie? Should I write a cheque to the Jackson estate if I want to sing Yellow Submarine in the shower? Do I owe Cliff Martinez a drink when, apropos of nothing, the soundtrack to Solaris compliments my day?

As Spotify puts it, everybody loves music.

Business have been struggling with this model for some time. It's familiar trivia that the Disney company owns "Happy Birthday" - not true either. It's owned by Time Warner, they make $5000 off it a day and will do until 2030. I'm sure, however, that you feel you too "own" Happy Birthday. You sing it at parties. If you sing it in any sort of public place, however - like a restaurant, say - you need a license.

At this point, we get into the tricky territory of what companies can and cannot own. As far as I'm concerned, Happy Birthday is part of world heritage. A bit like Facebook succeeding to copyright the word "face":

In August, the company sued Teachbook , arguing that "book" is a term associated with Facebook. Selecting "book" was a completely arbitrary choice and "pilfers a distinctive part of the Facebook," Facebook said. Travel site PlaceBook also changed its name to TripTrace after Facebook contacted the site and said its name was confusingly similar to its own.

Not to be vulgar, but FUCK OFF, I think you'll find the word BOOK is associated with BOOKS. Books, and libraries, and learning, and (say) teaching.

So copyright is often very counter-intuitive - you may think you have a right to use the word face, or sing Happy Birthday but actually think very, very carefully about how you do so, because you probably don't. There is something about those two cases which is fundamentally morally incorrect.

Music is different, of course - it is morally correct to repay the creators and performers, else they will die in a garret. But that's still counter intuitive - when I wake up humming "Wouldn't It Be Nice?", it's reminding me of the summer when I bought the CD; the New Zealand road trip; my school Speech Day; Tom Stoppard's "Rock and Roll", and how I fell in love while watching it; and Torchwood: Children of Earth: Day Five; and the fact that nowadays, I've listened to the Beach Boys so much to cheer me up that it actually triggers negative feelings. It does not remind me that in 1966, a group of guys got together in a recording studio to try and put a "vibration" on tape and that I should probably recompense them for all those memories.

Bullshit! Those memories are mine! They're just locked up inside the song, like giving a librarian rights to all the books in his library.

Spotify was the greatest, the best act ever performed against piracy. It combatted it by giving the pirates what they want - all the music, all the time - but used the model of a radio station to recoup profits. But it recently became clear that all was not well - Spotify seemed only to advertise itself. And now, the long-expected axe has fallen. From the start, I was suspicious it's perfection was merely that kindly free heroin sample given by your friendly neighbourhood dealer:

• you may each track for free up to a total of 5 times (that's forever, by the way)
• Additionally, total listening time for free users will be limited to 10 hours per month after the first 6 months. That’s equivalent to around 200 tracks or 20 albums.

Hrm. This vastly reduces Spotify's unique selling point - it's skill in actually replacing your music collection. Can't carry your cds around? They're on Spotty! Need to send an album to a friend? Just send them the link. Can't afford £120 a year? We can endure adverts. Spotify seemed to know what the market wanted, understand the pirate mindset and compensate for all its flaws.

What music execs seem to underestimate is the level of entitlement associated with music. It becomes part of our natures, our histories, our very souls. This doesn't excuse piracy, but an easy excuse. Copying technology has also threatened the very nature of posession. If I buy a book, I can give it to my friend, or to a charity shop. If I buy a song off the internet, they are suddenly wary because the same ability to give it to my friend (my posession, which I bought) also means I have the ability to share it with all my friends, and so forth.

And alas, I'm not going to pay £120. I don't buy CDs except very rarely, and then after having listened to them to the extent they become a necessity (and where would I do that?). It's the same way I buy everything, buying only necessities. My music budget is already blown on concert tickets.

Do I, therefore, renounce my right to listen to music? Am I to be separated from my memories?

Senate House Library was Orwell's inspiration for the Ministry of Truth, where Winston works. I can see why, beautiful building. Hitler was going to make his HQ when he invaded, and it's been used as Gotham architecture in Batman Begins. So after I finished working, I went for a snoop to find Room 101. Yes, Rm 101 is in Miniluv, not Minitru, and yes the room the Room was based on was in a different building altogether. It was still fun though.

I guessed it would be on floor one, got into the lift (ugh - the Disney Tower of Terror has given me the jitters about them. I can still ride them, it's not like it's a disabling phobia, but still ugh) and got out on an empty marble floor. The room was opposite the lift. Locked, and with blacked out windows. The area felt like a set, or maybe a computer game level - a mezzanine above stairs, randomly placed cabinets and columns, completely deserted. I went for a look around, found a gorgeous map, some fine views, an interesting vase. And two Steinway grand pianos.

Mmmmm.

There's something satistfying about flirting with flames, don't you think? Room 101 is meant to be the worst thing in the world. Is there some big, evil masterplan going on? Because ironically, I've just discovered the best thing in the world because of it.


In other news? I'm working hard on Ovid's Metamorphoses - not what I wanted to write about, but most expedient under the circumstances. It's a marvellous book. Book IX and the death of Heracles reminded me very much of the Doctor - both in character, in facts and in epic scope. The hero gets killed off by a very small thing, an unknowing act of treachery by a friend - his wife gives him a garment which, unbeknown to both, is soaked in poison:

"incaluit vis illa mali, resolutaque flammis
Herculeos abiit late dilapsa per artus.
dum potuit, solita gemitum virtute repressit."

[The power of the poison, strengthened from the fire, slowly coursed through the limbs of Hercules. When he could, he suppressed his groans due to his accustomed heroism.]

The actual imagery of Heracles frying is far more vivid than anything Doctor Who will produce, and we can be thankful for that. Yet for all his heroism, the big H doesn't take it very well crying:

"ergo ego foedantem peregrino templa cruore
Busirin domui? saevoque alimenta parentis
Antaeo eripui? nec me pastoris Hiberi
forma triplex, nec forma triplex tua, Cerbere, movit?
vosne, manus, validi pressistis cornua tauri?
vestrum opus Elis habet, vestrum Stymphalides undae,
Partheniumque nemus?"

[Was it for this I mastered Busirus, who stained his temples with foreign blood? For this that I snatched cruel Antaeo from his sustaining homeland. For this I faced, unflinching, the triple-bodied monsters of the Spanish shepherd, or you Cerberus? Are these not the hands that conquered the horns of the mighty bull? That aided the work of Eli, the waters of Stymphalida, the groves of Parthenium.]

That's the abbreviated version - he goes on far longer, and I'm sorry the translation is ugly but I should really be working instead of blogging.

"hac caelum cervice tuli. defessa iubendo est
saeva Iovis coniunx: ego sum indefessus agendo.
sed nova pestis adest, cui nec virtute resisti
nec telis armisque potest. pulmonibus errat
ignis edax imis, perque omnes pascitur artus."

[I have carried the sky on my back! The savage wife of Jove was tired of ordering me about - because I was tireless in completing her challenges. But now a new threat is here, which no strength can resist, nor weapons or arms ovecome. Gnawing fire plucks the depths of my lungs, feeding on all my limbs]

Heracles does not die, though. He causes his own death by building a pyre (Planet of Fire references?), but the gods rescue him and raise him to the stars. In other words, regeneration. The difference is, the Doctor is sympathetic, whereas Heracles is obnoxious...

And I'm in love with my newest fashion item. Someone got my dad a jewelry making kit (or maybe mum? Memories hazy), but in any case, it was never really used. So dad made a badge with the Star Trek Federation crest on, and because it was an ugly sticky thing, no one ever wore it. This was probably a decadde back. Flash forward to a few days ago, and I stumbled across it accidentally in an old jewelry box. Of course, I didn't see this but this, and am now gleefully wearing it around as a hair-grip. If I'd made a Federation badge all on my own, it'd be a little creepy and sad, but having found one I figure it's OK. And I actually like it more for being repurposed - somehow, it seems suitable. The joke is, of course, entirely intentional - the latter crest being the "far-right" version of the former...

The Sunday Times had confirmed what we always secretly knew - Spotify is a bit crooked underneath, and too good to be true. Apparently, artists get betweet 0.01p and nothing at all per play, which isn't really surprising. And record companies have shares in the company, so it's in their best interest also to overlook the wrong being done to artists. What a surprise. Spotify is like every other big company in the world. Plus ca change. I'm tempted to believe the whole thing is a racket anyway - offer it for free, then force everyone to switch to premium, by which time listeners are too addicted not to.

But on a personal level, I'm not sure this matters. If I listened to Spotify instead of buying CDs, then I would stop. But the fact remains that I've never bought CDs regularly, and nothing would induce me to do so, so all my boycott would achieve would be me listening to less music. Having a source of browseable free music, on the other hand, has encouraged me to start listening to all sorts of bands in a way I never would have before. Including, ultimately, getting around to CDs. An act I usually commit about two years after feeling the itch to do so (see: every single CD I own). And I do support artists I like in other ways - seeing them live, and buying sheet music. Short of actually buying them lunch, it's hard to get proceeds to artists.

Word of the day: "klavier-tiger" a German portmanteau of the words "piano" and, er, "tiger".

I've softened a little towards Doctor Who. This is mostly because I'm a softie and a gullible fangirl who, at the end of the day, will sit through anything with a diamond logo on it. The chief problem is, Doctor Who's classic episodes boil down to five men in a bunker or four men in a cave. So why they keep "treating" us to huge episodes on special occasions I do not know.

This morning, I took advantage of the empty house to get in some quality time with my piano. Specifically, to get practicing at "The Curse of Millhaven". It's a Nick Cave song about a sweet teen girl who goes on a killing spree in her little town. I think it reminded Calypso of me - it certainly reminded me of me, and so I am attempting to cover it in my sweetest and most adorable choirgirl voice. There's nothing like transforming your greatest weakness (years of choir training barring any attempts at rock and pop) into your greatest strength.

As an album, "Murder Ballads" has a confirmed death count of 64 - that's an average of 7 per song. "Millhaven" itself is 9 verses long, and I'm having trouble and fun in equal measure trying to vary my playing to keep it interesting. I've got bits here and there sorted, but it's mainly tricky raining in the crazy for verses one to four, and not getting bored or losing momentum before it's time to let rip half way through. I can't match Nick Cave's villainous enthusiasm and heroic tuneless not-really-in-time ranting, but what I am doing sounds fine some of the time. My voice is ripped to shreds, as if I've been chugging alcohol or paint stripper all morning, and it feels great.



In other news, not a night has gone by that I have not dreamt about travelling. My shrink would have a field day with this one, suggesting perhaps I do not feel settled. I keep dreaming about the Tube, although it's more like the DLR. Gorgeous prog-rock vistas with golden monorails weaving between sandy towers and pink clouds, all TFL: Atlantis branch. Nothing like the real Tube, which is a grubby nightmare. And then last night I dreamed about the airport for the third or fourth time, but it was huge like an underground city.

Despite the trauma dreams, it wasn't as bad as all that. As everyone was delayed, there was a rush on the Wetherspoons - but you were only allowed food if you had a table. I ended up on an eight seaters with a motley crew. Three French students, one who ran a vegan restaurant, a second who ran an animal shelter (and was married, which made me wonder if they were older than they seemed) and a third who was makingmovies in London and spent the whole time tetchy because he couldn't smoke. Two old friends from Guernsey who talked about the homeless. One Irish woman who grinned and maintained she hadn't wanted to go home for Christmas anyway, and was happy so long as the Guinness didn't run out. And as for me? Well, the gal with the restaurant explained that bars are traditionally decorated with books because in the past, a place which had books but no music was classified as "a library" and thus came under licensing restrictions. Nowadays, the books are decorative, but the trend started due to this loophole. This Wetherspoons had lots of antiquey books, so once I'd shown everyone some origami and played several competitive games of squares, I raided the bookshelf. Xenophon, The Count of Monte Cristo and Virgil in Latin. So frankly, I was happy.

One of the things that Kept Me Going on my epic airport Odyssey was how much it reminded me of Blake's 7 locations. That's the marvellous thing about all-encompassing obsessions - you can't concieve of how it changes your perceptions unless you've had one. Say, I feel my understanding of the word "compassion" is fundamentally deeper due to my Doctor Who viewing, and that my definition of "interference" is now seriously different. I even got chirrupy and cheerful about the "year-1999" functionality of the railway carriage toilet, because it looked like one of the TARDIS rooms. Certainly there's a running joke that Gallifrey always resembled an airport departure lounge.

But after this morning's dream, I had a horrible thought. It occured to me that, if sci-fi cities tend to look a bit like airport departure lounges, then airport departure lounges must look like sci-fi cities. And if that is the case, how depressing must the future be! All white and shiney and functional. Anonymous, apersonal - seemingly very easy to keep clean, but actually with an all-around grubbiness, like the scuff on airport floors. Euch. Time travel, it turns out, must be as much fun as any other mode of travel...

There are several different ways this thing can be read, but mostly it's a mix of songs I associate with times or people, or which I have come to love, or represents trends, themes, moods or obsessions. Most are several, though that's just the way my mind works, and I invite you to reminice with me, or just to enjoy the music if they all mean nothing.

I'm sure there are some I've forgotten - the my laptop took with it my other Spotify playlist, so it's possible one or two will slip on here later. But rough cut one looks like this. Even listening to "Firestarter" now makes me think oh my goodness that was earlier this year. It seems like forever away.

Songs:

1. Firestarter - Prodigy

2. Vulture - Patrick Wolf.

3. I'm Beginning to See the Light - Ella Fitzgerald

4. Goodbye - Frank Sinatra

5. Little Baby Nothing - Manic Street Preachers

6. Sand in Your Shoes - Al Stewart

7. Mrs O. - Dresden Dolls

8. Intergalactic Space Crusaders - Star One

9. Wouldn't It Be Nice - The Beach Boys

10. Yes - McAlmont & Butler

11. Living is a Problem Because Everything Dies - Biffy Clyro

12. We Are Your Friends - Simian, Justice

13. Red Right Hand - Nick Cave

14. Between Us There Is Nothing - Pete Atkin

15. She Needs Me - Fyfe Dangerfield


Not on the playlist, but perhaps should be:
Bluebells, Oblivion, the Bachelor, or nothing at all? - Patrick Wolf

Between Us There Is Nothing - maybe replaced with Screen Freak?

Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) - Florence + The Machine. Or maybe the Bachelor cover.

Bat For Lashes?

More Manics? Jackie Collins? Small Black Flowers? Facing Page? Kevin Carter? Or add Little Baby Nothing twice?

Ulysses? U-Boat? Oasis? Astronaut? Wait for Sleep? Pruit Igoe or All That Is Good?

The Decemberists? Lily Allen? Poker Face? Boris the Spider? I Can See for Miles?

Keeping you all updated is impossible! So much great stuff is going on, and the more stuff which happens the less time I have to type.

I attended the climate protest on Saturday. I had intended to go, then decided not to bother (what the hell difference is it going to make? And I hear a girl got assaulted on Reclaim the Night, so my faith in protests is even lower than usual), and then ended up going by accident. I was hunting down posh origami paper on Carnaby Street when I heard the unmistakeable sound of a protest-monitoring helicopter. I crossed into Piccadilly Circus and bumped into a huge number of blue protesters, with , mercifully, only a scattering of socialists.

(Socialism is causing me problems. All the ones I encounter in London offend me. They're like the world's worst stand up comics, concluding every joke with a single punchline (i.e. "The enviroment/economy/civil rights is in chaos! Become a Socialist!), and like the world's worst gatecrashers, show up for whatever protest action is going. I feel very sympathetic to their cause - capitalism, commercialism, there's so much wrong with it - but am doubly depressed by my leftie leanings. Everyone becomes a socialist at university, then stops when they have a mortgage. The inherent hypocracy of this, and knowledge that it's a phase even while I'm in it, is very demoralising.)

They happened to be going the same way as me, so I grabbed a placard and walked from Piccadilly to Whitehall, then left them to their futile shouting and jumping about in favour of the uni library. The placard is now next to the anti-BNP one in my room.

Then I spent a lovely afternoon folding in the Maughan. There's something enjoyable about using glue in a place like that. I'm making some dragons as a favour, and enjoying it immensely. There's a debate in the world of origami as to what the point should be. I am of the school of fun folding - I believe the finished product isn't so important, so long as the folding process was entertaining. I rarely have the excuse or inclination to produce something beautiful. Which is strage when you consider we are basically talking about Art here, and I'd (probably) sink a ship for the most beautiful song ever written.

Normally, folding shapes is purely to amuse my hands - folding to amuse someone else's eyes is a slightly different dicipline, and I'm enjoying the oppertunity. Particularly to use proper Japanese patterned paper. I don't bother with it usually, and it is an extra challenge - you've more room for mistakes in one-colour paper. The finished product is incredible, much better than in that photo.

I've got myself a Doctor Who lunchbox using some of my birthday cash. I hope this will encourage me to make lunch in the mornings - instead of considering it, then feeling guilty about using a plastic bag; or forgetting, then being too cheap or lazy to hunt out food. Also, it says "exterminate" when you press the front. It's pretty huge, so I have packed it with non perishables as if I were going on arctic expedition, on the grounds that I will doubtless forget to refil it.

Sunday's treat was Fyfe Dangerfield (Guillemots frontman - keep up, keep up!) playing in a park. I headed on down to Bethnal Green, and spent fifteen minutes rooting around in trees trying to find him. Finally, I spotted a crowd in front of a bandstand - I climbed through one fence, and over another to get there. Fyfe wrote up the playlist in chalk, like a specials board, and captioned it with "all served with chips and salad". "Does anybody here have pliers?" went up the call, as one of his guitar strings snapped. It was quickly fixed though. I spent the entire thing wedged between the ear and cheek of a sitting woman, and the bum cheeks of an incredibly irritating one or two cameramen, sound-recordists or people who were sufficienly "with" the event, that none of the 20 or so fans standing behind them could tap them on the shoulder and punch them in the face. This was very frustrating, more so when the singing began.

Playlist:

Faster than the Setting Sun (as the sun was setting, aptly enough)

Livewire

She Needs Me (lovely chunky chords! I liked this one most)

Any Direction

It was just him and the guitar, with the light playing off the trees - and also, his foot on his keys to create a beat. Always the improviser, he ditched the guitar after Any Direction and continued singing, chinking along on the two chalk sticks. They snapped almost instantly, which brought a laugh, then a huge cheer and an end to what was almost a nice afternoon. Then I went down to a table by the lake (complete with a fountain and all sorts of waterfowl) and did Latin there till the sun set. Lovely!

I wanted to tell you about Beautiful Thing, Hamlet and Inherit the Wind, but I'm posting this from the library and am running out of time.

But one thing I have to mention is Chinatown, oh Chinatown! The final film in the Kings noir series. I have attended almost all of these - free, on Monday evenings, accompanied by about five minutes of academia and on a massive screen. And usually, featuring the projectionist screwing up. I'll talk about the program as a whole when I have time.

And to cap it off, the topic was neo-noir - of which Chinatown is a perfect example. I was reminded of L.A. Confidential all the way through - same location, same stylised story, and also the same composer using the same lonesome trumpet theme. I was interested by it's use of sunlight. L.A. C, notably, takes place entirely at night - it's a shock when the sun turns up in the final scene. Chinatown is almost more dark and threatening for being set mostly in day, under an unforgivingly cheerful sky. When I came out I was thinking one was as good as the other, but as I thought about it more I've come around to thinking Chinatown might be better. Which is a scary thought, because L.A. Confidential has always been my benchmark "great movie". And I did think about it, I have been thinking about it constantly. I couldn't get to sleep for running it over in my brain. I'm not sure what about it has caught my attention so fully, but you heard it here first, folks (off the record, on the QT and very hush hush...) - this is a love affair blossoming into life.

Oh, and the knife + nostril? Best reaction EVER from an audience. I felt sure the scene was sufficently famous that everyone would know about it, but apparently not. There was a hugely satisfying gasp, of a kind I've never experienced. Maybe the last time something similar was when Bilbo leaps for the ring in Fellowship - at which point the audience, myself included, lurched in their chairs.

Hello dear readers! If you're just joining us, I've uploaded about six days worth of blog. It'll be a while till you get more, so ration them if you're desperate!

Monday

Rather a glum morning. Greek was interminable for a second time. I was determined to behave this year, which is why I've spent the summer brushing up on my Greek already. Alas, we're now crawling through a bad textbook at the speed of a striking Myrka. This is the problem with doing the work pre-lecture - you've probably already covered everything in the lecture itself. At least skipping homework keeps you on your toes in class!

So sitting there for an hour made me rather stressed and fractious, and I came out to discover I'd failed to get into either of the two music groups I'd auditioned for. I'm not exactly disappointed, because that would imply I expected to get into either. I'm obviously not one of the top 15 singers in the university, nor the best jazz pianist. Instead, I might define myself as irritated. Nothing should be a competition, really - music especially not. Passing an exam means nothing more than you know how to pass an exam - it's a talent like everything else. I've never taken a music audition in my life, precicely because I don't believe in them. I wish I was Tim Roth. He refuses to do auditions because he is bad at them, and QT only talked him into doing a read through for Reservoir Dogs after the pair had spent the entire day in the pub and had gone home with a crate. Unfortunatly, he's Tim Roth and he knows people will cast him anyway on the grounds of his previous work. Can I play? Sort of. But I bring with me no better qualifications than I enjoy performing as part as a group. Don't let them tell you at uni you can try something new - I've been a choirgirl all my life and have been rejected from a rock-pop club because I can stay in tune, but can't sing (there is a distinction. Calypso can sing but not stay in tune). I presume the Jazz band didn't want me because I'm incompetant at playing under pressure, in front of other people and in time. Which is triply frustrating, as all these things are things that must be practiced. I can't learn to be a great performer unless I'm given a chance to perform. In short, all the reasons I wanted to try something new are the same reasons I can't.

Maybe bitter would be the best way of describing it, because I can never bring anything more concrete than my passion to music when compared to anyone who truly knows what they're doing. It is one area where my lack of ambition is going to always trip me up. Take it this way: I'm better at origami than most people you know, but compared to origami masters I have a long long way to go. Yet I'm content where I am and have no desire to be much better. I only desire to be good as far as it gives me enjoyment to do so. And the same goes for Latin, and film studies
and for music too. When it ceases to be fun, it ceases to have any point. Grades, names and standards in the eyes of the world mean nothing. Unfortunately, music is an area which seems to be competitive even in the amateur world. Which is a shame, because all I really want is a group of people to play music with - even a bunch of incompetants would do me fine. Kings does have one free-for-all choir, but it clashes with the film department's Film Noir series on a Monday evening, leaving me with an unpleasant choice, and this beyond anything else has made me irritable. I don't want to give up either one of those for the other.

Which brings us back to Tim Roth, and his movie Legend of 1900. It's like porn for pianists - a paper thin plot which exists only to string together extended scenes of thrilling keyboard antics. Friend 4 suggested I watch it pre-audition as inspiration - which turned out to be pretty good advice, although probably not how she meant it. I'm fairly sure the idea was I'd go and play that piano so hard the strings would get red hot enough to light a cigarette from. Not, in fact, what happened. But what would 1900 say? "Fuck jazz". Damn straight.

So I'm gonna start my own band, featuring everyone who wants to join, and we will make noise.

I've been clamouring to catch up on my movie watching. Can you believe I've gone my whole life without seeing a Carry On movie? Carry on Up the Khyber has just rectified that, and my isn't it marvellous! I particularly enjoyed the "English" dinner at the end, and the poor Governor being set upon by all of the wives. Also, crush on Roy Castle like you wouldn't believe. I'm just a sucker for men in imperial red.

I've also watched my first Charlie Chaplin - Modern Times. My overall reaction is a bit of "meh". In terms of the physical stunts, Chaplin is obviously a marvellous comedian, but I didn't find myself laughing out loud more than once or twice. Still, I liked the iconic moment he is dragged into the belly of the machine, and I keep thinking of the shot of the sheep which opens the film every time I go onto the tube. I'm also intrigued by the use of sound - because but for a few moments, this is still a silent movie. Was that a stylistic choice by the silent comedian, or was the film in production as sound was invented and they thought they better add some token bits to pull audiences in. Certainly you can tell this could only have been the early years of sound. In particular, the scene where the new invention is presented to the Boss not by the salesmen, but by a record player they have brought with them. This indicates to me that they were not yet confident in matching sound and picture, so this was the easiest way to do a sustained dialogue scene. But do correct me, that's only a theory. I think it's another case of the thing that started the Thing being superseded by the things that copied it. Modern comedies owe a lot to Chaplin's pratfalls, but they also do visual gags, wordplay, jokes crude and clever e.t.c.

Last night we did a double bill, starting with Tideland. I love that film. It's still disturbing on a second watch, but also still beautiful and marvellous - and I like it enough for it to get on my Official Favourite Films list. Which is nice, because I'm getting increasingly apprehensive for Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. I should probably have more faith in my favourite directors. Film two was But I'm a Cheerleader, a mildly subversive teen flick about a girl sent to a de-Gay camp because her parents think she is a lesbian. Of course, this is the worst thing they could possibly do (think the sex addicts class in Blades of Glory), and the huge comedic possibilities in the situation are happily exploited. Our heroes were dressed in blue or pink, and made to chop wood or hoover carpets to persuade them back to "normality". There was something very queasy in the design and style, though the underlying plot is nothing you won't recognise. It was slightly spoilt for me by the knowledge that they actually do this to people - it seemed quite trivialised - and my overall reaction was to become quite depressed. I do tend to have problems with parody, however - like Galaxy Quest's Thermians, I tend to take most films at face value. I got genuinely worried for the characters during Carry On up the Khyber too. I know that's not the point, but I can't help but care. Also, very puzzled by presence of Julie Delpy as a random extra in a club. The film was made in 1999. Was this before she got famous, or was this a deliberate favour for a friend or something?

PS - I'm listening to Space One, as recommended by Tydar, Prince of Cats at the Geek Soc Quiz. It is marvellous! A concept album of sci fi franchises, as explained by lowest denominator operatic space prog. One in particular is really exciting, and one I know I will be screaming the lyrics of when I'm actually allowed to know what they are, instead of blocking them out with Plato and Xenophon. Damn spoilers. Damn, damn spoilers.

So, today's quiz - look up the lyrics on this website

And try and work out what they all are. I definitely know 5 (Master of Darkness, Eye of Ra, Perfect Survivor, Intergalactic Space Crusaders and Starchild), and could have a very good guess at Sandrider and Songs of the Ocean. Not sure about Set Your Controls or High Moon. High Moon in particular is bothering me, because it is so detailed and I know it'd be obvious if I did know. So in the comments, tell me which you have guessed but only tell me what the song titles are. I'm still enjoying mulling on the identity of the ones I haven't got. If you need a clue, look at the wallpapers in the downloads section - although frustratingly, only the ones I know seem obvious. So, beat my total of 7/9. For bonus points, work out Spaced Out and Inseperable Enemies from the bonus disk, neither of which I recognise.

Music takes you back. I've been mulling over for a long time making a CD of songs yearby year, but I was put off by the fact I hadn't started earlier on. Which is stupid, but that's how my brain rolls. So here's my first one: 2008 in sound, a mix of the first time I heard favourite songs, and the times when songs became special, people, places, days out, moments. As much as I'd like to provide it with a commentary, the whole point of a songmix year as opposed to a summary is the subtle shades of inexplicable stuff. So if these songs mean something to you too, then you were probably there at the time, and if not then just enjoy it as music.

Here is 2008:

0. Get Over It - The Guillemots

1. Mr Brightside - The Killers

2. The Water is Wide (trad)

3. God only Knows - The Beach Boys

4. Black and Gold - Sam Sparro

5. Electric Feel - MGMT

6. Sister Winter - Sufjan Stevens

7. Bowie - Flight of the Conchords

8. She's Electric - Oasis

9. Girl Anachronism - the Dresden Dolls

10. Estonia - Marillion

11. Daniel - Elton John

12. The Beginning is the End is the Beginning - The Smashing Pumpkins

Spotty link: http://open.spotify.com/user/unmutual/playlist/5oe0nWk9uufePT4xsDl9pC

I'm fairly sure 2009 will be about twice this long. This filler post to make up for the fact I have been too whatever to post for a few days.

People fanmix automatically - they can't help it. Music ties you straight to places, times, people, links with the strangest ideas without knowing why. I can't really handle other people's, because their associations are different - and due to my random, eclectic music taste, other people probably couldn't handle mine. I'm also too much of a canon nazi to make full CDs for most of these things - to go out and find songs, instead of picking them up instinctively over a long period of time.

So instead, here's a list of single songs which always remind me very strongly of particular fictional things. And I gift these ideas to anyone making a CD, who needs to make up the gaps.

All the songs I could find, which were mentioned, as a Spotify playlist:
http://open.spotify.com/user/theunmutual/playlist/7jKF8nrqWHZ0Gpbi7qjlYT

1. Doctor Who ~ "The Wonder is All Around Us" by RIAA

This song is actually remixed from Vangelis' "Alpha", Ken Nordine's "Satellite" and bits of radio interview, and isn't one you'd ever have heard except for me mentioning it here. It is a favourite song, however, because it's so uplifting. It deserves a video of happy-Doctors, excited-companions and all the fantastic, magic Doctor Who scenes. Also, at the end it strongly resembles the music from Last of the Timelords. I'm sorta surprised I've never found ANY other songs which would fit a Doctor or "isn't space-time-travel fantastic" CD, but there you go.

You can download it here: http://www.m-1.us/spaceset.html

2. the Master ~ "Almost Sorry", Scissor Sisters; "Clockwork Creep" ~ 10CC; "Tomorrow Never Dies" ~ Sheryl Crow

I've already made a Master-mix which the character might listen to, to inspire me and put me into his headspace for working on the comic. These are the offcuts: songs about him, but which he wouldn't listen to. "Almost Sorry" is a bonus track from Ta-Dah, another I-hate-you-but-am-obsessed-with-you song - but the angstiness of the lyrics are balanced out by the cold, quirky delivery. "Clockwork Creep" is an off-kilter rattle, sung from the point of view of a bomb hidden on a plane, and has always screamed "SimmMaster!" at me. And finally, the most tenuous pick. I was just singing "Tomorrow Never Dies" one day, presumably while angsting about Planet of Fire, and the two just linked in my mind. Now I look at the words again, I can't quite see where I was coming from, but the original impression remains. It also has the problem of being a bit Bond-y.

Watch Clockwork Creep: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipm2wm5Exik

3. Torchwood ~ "Mrs O", Dresden Dolls

As per usual, when I say Torchwood, I technically mean Children of Earth. Another one of those instances where I sung-it-while-the-other-was-on-my-mind, but I still think this one means something. Less because of the "children" line which caught my attention, than the paranoia, coverups and despair. It's also so good that I want to find another suitable four songs to do a mini-mix. This would be Day Five.

4. Lost ~ "Not about Us", Genesis

My sister is a huge Jack/Kate shipper, so some of that background noise must have filtered through when listening to this, the only decent song from Genesis' worst album. The idea of a personal relationship being knowingly sacrificed for some sort of Greater Cause fits particularly bits of S1 or 2.

5. Random Flame songs

"Lady Moonlight", All About Eve
"Bluebells", Patrick Wolf
"Sad Eyes", Bat for Lashes
"Like a Woman", Bob Dylan
"How Can I?", Steve Hackett
"Creep", Radiohead (Yes. I know. And that's why I haven't actually made this yet)
"I can't decide", Scissor Sisters
"Death Shall Have No Dominion" and "We Don't Have to Think Like That Anymore", Cliff Martinez, purely for the gorgeous titles.

7. Emily
Is this egotistical ? Probably. I've always wanted to do people mixes for presents, made up only of songs with their name, but I've always been derailed by the lack of songs about Bethany, or in particular, Anne. Anne just must not scan pleasingly - there's Barbara Anne, Mary Anne, Lou Anne, but no plain Anne. So I tried doing joint ones, for groups of people, and the only thing it proved was what a singable name "Emily" is. Good number of syllables, and presumably pleasant associations. Some particular favourites are:

"See Emily Play" - Pink Floyd
"Emily" - Joanna Newsom
"A Rose for Emily" - The Zombies
"Like Emily" - All About Eve
"Emily Kane" - Art Brut

and another 200-and-something according to Spotify...

8. Watchmen ~ "Warriors", Hawkwind

In retrospect, this one is very tenuous. But I can still see what I was driving at when I picked it - some of the insanity reminds me of Rorschach's brain; some of the "we are the only bastions of Earth defence" reminds me in turns of Nite Owl, and of Ozymandeus; some of the ash and paranoia reminds me of the Cold War. We are the betrayed. WE ARE THE BETRAYEAYEAYED!

9. Lord of the Rings ~ "My Last Breath", Evanescence; "Stagnation", Genesis

At the time, "My Last Breath" took on Aragorn-Arwen associations, though I haven't listened to the album in years. "Stagnation" I've always thought was about Gollum - and what with it being a prog album, could even be correct. "The ice cold knife has come to decorate the dead" also reminds me of the Barrow Downs.


So. What random-association songs do you guys have?

Today: film studies day!

I'm gonna try and get through a topic an hour - yes, I've not really done any work for it yet, but I do have an excuse. While revision is surely better than no revision, well, if I do no work for Entertainment Cultures I'm screwed. Whereas talking about film - that's what I do. I could pass and do OK if you'd asked me to sit this three weeks ago. So it's not exactly top priority compared to Entertainment Cultures which I could concieviably fail. Take a look at my schedule:

10.30 - genre

11.30 - stardom

12.30 - performance

1.30 - gender and sexuality

2.30 - women's cinema

3.30 - national/transnational cinema

Then I break to actually watch a film. I'm tossing up between L.A. Confidential, Morocco (Marlene Dietrich, for stardom), La Haine (for realism), Watermelon Woman (from women's cinema, but also cos the premise is fascinating) or All about my Mother (Spanish cinema, but I've been meaning to watch it for years). Swiss Cottage library will probably determine this.

I'm cutting auteur theory. We have to answer on two subjects, so I figure I can safely ignore one of the modules entirely. Our auteur was Lars Von Trier, and I don't really feel like studying him.

So tune in every few HOURS for an updated rant on each of the topics above.

Last night, I dreamed about Apocalypse Now and The A-Team, which was pleasanter than you'd expect. There's a damn great piece of scholarship which needs to be written about The A-Team...for now, I'm going to note three observations. 1) B.A.'s fear of flying is surely a post 'Nam thing? 2) Murdoch IS nuts. But not quite as nuts as he pretends to be. Some of his comments are rather Hamlet-esque. 3) You know, dumping Face and Amy together every single week is not going to work, because it's a Boys On A Mission/Buddy Movie show where women have no value, and romance does not exist except in a manly-platonic way within the team. So stop it!!

Any more comments before the hard slog begins? Not really, except Steve Hackett is causing me trouble. I've been listening to Please Don't Touch, which many regard as his finest album. I certainly like it a lot. The problem is "Icarus Ascending" and the title track. The album notes suggest:

'For maximum effect, this track should be listened to as loudly as possible with
as much treble and bass as your system can muster - not to be played to people
with heart conditions or those in severely hallucinogenous states of mind'.

Which is something I do, everytime I play the album and everyone is out of the house. But we've got a loud sound system, so generally I do have to sit in another room, which isn't so hardcore. This leaves me with problems listening to it in Hamstead Gaol, with us all packed in room by room by cell by cell by two by two, because I can't go up to 11. I can't even go to 5. But I'm only used to it played SO LOUD YOU CAN'T THINK ANYTHING; quietly, it's like a different song. Maybe I should start listening to a different Hackett album...interesting trivia, my guitar - Steve - is named after Mr Hackett. So now you know.

I've long intended to make a Genesis CD for prog-friendly friends not yet converted. The plan was to choose two songs from each album and narrow it down from there: easier said than done, especially when you take into account the length of these songs. Thought process: here's my first pass.

Early Stuff
Twilight Alehouse
Let us Now Make Love
She is Beautiful
See Bee
The Conqueror

Trespass
A real favourite album, frankly I'd keep every track. But Knife is the classic, and I think all the wolfing about will appeal to people.
Looking for Someone
White Mountain
Visions of Angels
The Knife

Nursery Cryme
I almost put on Salmacis as well, as I think Vapilla would like the Greek-mythness. But I simply don't have room! The Musical Box was the song which got me hooked, so it stays.
The Musical Box
Return of the Giant Hogweed
Fountain of Salmacis
Harlequin

Foxtrot
As much as I'd like to just stick on Supper's Ready, CDs have limits.
Watcher of the Skies
Can Utility and the Coastliners

Selling England by the pound
I feel I should represent what tends to be hailed as the Great Album, but it only really works as a whole...sadly saying farewell to a great keyboard solo.
Dance with a Moonlit Knight
The Cinema Show

The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway
The Lamb Lies down on Broadway
In the Cage
Carpet Crawlers
The Lamia
Chamber of 32 Doors
Lilywhite Lilith

Trick of the Tail
Kept the two classics, and added in Trick because the story is so great
Dance on Volcano
Entangled
Mad Man Moon
Trick of the Tail
Los Endos

Wind and Wuthering
Probably won't represent this. I like it, but we don't have it on CD.
Your own special way

And then there were Three
Probably won't represent this album at all, though I am fond of it. I'd pick Scenes from a Night's Dream or Lady Lies.

Abacab
I like Abacab. So judge me.
Abacab
Me and Sarah Jane
Keep it Dark

Genesis
Home BTS/SHBTS is actually among my favourites, but I genuinely don't have space for it. Plus, Mama is a more interesting song. When I get requests for album no. II, then I use it.
Home by the sea/Second Home by the Sea
Mama

Duke
Turn it On Again
Duchess
Duke's Travels
Please don't ask

Invisible Touch
THE late Genesis classic has to be included.
Land of Confusion
Domino
Tonight Tonight Tonight

We can't Dance
Atmospheric wonder. I'm also including the much-loathed Hold on my Heart, to show what goes on in the non-prog department.
Dreaming while you sleep
Driving the last spike

Calling all stations
Definitely won't be represented, but do adore Not About Us.

That's narrowed it down to:


White Mountain
Trick of the Tail
In the Cage
Twilight Alehouse
The Knife

Cut with considerable regret:
Dance on a Volcano
The Lamia
Carpet Crawlers
Lilywhite Lilith
Chamber of 32 Doors

In the interest of space, I'm going to do what proper Genesis fans do: pretend the 80s never
happened. This also cuts:
Dreaming While you Sleep
Hold on my Heart
Turn it On again
Abacab
Keep it Dark
Domino

Today has been horrible. I think this may be death: that's how rough I feel.

Woke up nice and early to finish my essay, then moved to the PC room to print it off - for want of a nail the shoe was lost - but my account refused to log in, and half the computers were broken. It was OK, once someone else left but then my files crashed at least three times - for want of a shoe the horse was lost - and then, when I tried to print, the printer sulked for ten whole minutes. Then I ran out of printer credits - for want of a horse the rider was lost - and after a kind donation by a friend, the printer ran out of paper - for want of a rider the battle was lost - and only then could I get on the road.

I hate the film studies department. Their room is five floors up, and hard to find - and they set their deadline at 12, not a minute later. I should have anticipated printing my essay and cover sheet would require some 45 minutes, leaving me only 20 minutes to get from Hampstead to the Strand. It can be done. Unfortunately, this work had left me no time for lunch and a very slight breakfast - so every time I launched into my Run Lola Run impression, my legs siezed up instantly due to having no energy. It was OK once I was on the road, as I couldn't control the speed of that except in the in-between bits, when I happily barged and trod on people to grasp back a few minutes.

I hit Charing Cross at 11:45. The plan was to run down the Strand, which again can be done, but not on a small glass of Honey Loops. So I hopped on a bus down the Strand, which for the first time EVER had a traffic jam - for want of a battle the kingdom was lost - so I hopped off before the stop, and staggered as fast as I could to the university. I wanted to die by this point: running was out of the question. I absent mindedly thought about Caves of Androzani, which I always do when something nasty happens or am required to do a stupid amount of running against a ticking clock, which happens tends to happen to me a lot. I can't explain how, why, anything now - got to get to the Classics department, not much time - save that it's an brilliantly cruel episode of Doctor Who, and in my brain, it's become a sort of subconscious litmus test of the last things in the world I want to do. You'll be amazed at the things which seem to me like a good idea in comparison. It occurs to me out of the blue at times such as this - "well, you're about to fail Film Studies - but hey! It could be worse! You could be rewatching Caves of Androzani..."

Mercifully, I didn't get lost in that maze of tunnels - by this point, running was out of the question - and made it to the film studies department - up those stupid four flights of stairs because the lift feels very dangerous and the emergency telephone is broken - and staggered back through the door, dropping my burdens to the floor in an exahusted slump, and then I checked my watch.

11:58. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

The Queen Bat who was overseeing the submissions gave me a very funny look. She said it was fine that I didn't have a word count, mercifully as I didn't have the time - or, indeed, strength - to go find it out.

Yes. I know. Never again.

It was comparatively relaxing getting my Classics essay in. I returned to print cover sheets at a leisurely pace, sweet mercy I ate something, which felt marvellous. I chatted to the nice receptionist who always takes in the essays.

And then I attempted to relax. Reason number 8 why I hate my University - nowhere to rest. London is tiring, and students keep unreal hours - yet it's unreasonable for me to go home between lectures for a nap. Yet in all that huge building, nowhere. I finally curled up in the Compass, on their lovely sofas, removed my shoes and attempted to recoup from the morning's stress. Sorry, no feet on the sofas. Fair enough. But I didn't appreciate being interrupted half an hour later, once I'd used my coat to cushon my feet. I wasn't dirtying it at that point, and furthermore, the Compass is meant to be a student support centre where people can go for quiet time. Sleeping should be within that, surely? There are plenty of other places to study. I got thrown out for some arbitary, stupid rule. So I asked - they are meant to be student advice - whether they knew anywhere I could rest, and they recommended Chapters. The cafe which throws you out if you don't buy their coffee every ten minutes. And they looked at me sympathetically, and I wanted to scream let me sleep here then!

Ultimately, I didn't get my rest. I stayed through to Latin, didn't pay attention due to exaustion and the niggling urge to watch Caves of Androzani (brilliantly cruel, but also brilliant full stop - you could watch it three times in a row and still be ready for more. If you hadn't topped yourself.)

The trip home was also pretty funny. The Tube carriage doors shut prematurely in our carriage. I'd just let a man with a bag go in front of me - he got trapped in them, struggled through and tried to hold them open for me and an older woman. No joy - but another group of men in the carriage, seeing what was going on, opened the doors between the carriages so we could move to one with open doors through those "DANGER OF DEATH" doors. We moved as quickly as we could, but didn't get through before they closed too. I thanked them. It reminded me a little of the doors shutting on Journey's End Donna: these things happen for a reason. So I assumed it was a sort of fate, as the doors worked perfectly well at the next station, from where I walked home via the library.



Last night my dad sent me an email entitled "if the flu panic takes off", then followed this "if" with a detailed 10-point email on how not to get it, which struck me as very strange. It was all sound advice, and thank you for it, but it struck me as weird considering he'd never thought of it before. Flus happen all the time, right? Until I typed "flu" into Google and discovered a

MASSIVE KILLER PANDEMIC AAARGH!!

about to conquer the Earth. I'm a bit out of the news loop here, and suddenly Richard Burton started rumbling through my brain:

"It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone spent that evening as
though it were just like any other. From the railway station came the sound
of shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost into melody by the
distance. It all seemed so safe and tranquil. Around me, the daily routine
of life, working eating, sleeping, was continuing serenely as it had for
countless years." (War of the Worlds, musical)

Suddenly, and I think it was point 6: try and come back to Eyam Guernsey as soon as possible, I anticipated waking up in the opening scenes of 28 Days Later. I've wondered before how it would be to live in impossible times, such as a world war. I'm not sure how anyone can comprehend Total War who hasn't been through it: the terrorist thing occasionally looked like turning that way, but I was always sure things would be fine. I'm pretty sure things will be fine this time around, but I'm following the list of paranoid instructions just in case. If things do get that bad, then I am guiltily looking forward to the fiction that will emerge from the experience (if I do, that is). The only noticeable difference in my daily activities is getting wrapped sandwiches instead of loose buns for lunch, and an urge to indulge in post-apocalyptic fiction. Anyone want to join me for a War of the Worlds-28 Days Later-12 Monkeys marathon and end-of-the-world party?

This includes 9: if you feel unwell, see a doctor immediately.

Now don't laugh. I wouldn't have dreamed of being so daft, if not for a chance encounter with Metro magazine this morning listing the symptoms of the beastie. Curiously, it turns out I've had almost all the symptoms of flu in the last week: I was hit out of the blue by a droopy, sleepy thing at my grandma's house, which at the time I put down to misery and stress, and then this weekend I lost my voice. Both of these were weird enough, because I get ill very rarely. The third symptom on the list was loss of appetite, which I do periodically get every few weeks, but I happen to be also having a spate now. I'm only missing fever.

So I did attend a Kings drop-in session about it, as I had three hours to kill. I was virtually positive that, had I a killer flu, I'd be feeling properly ropey, and she confirmed whan I already knew: it was just a nasty series of coincidences. And then she nagged me about whether or not I needed an MMR jab.

Tonight the, headline on Voice magazine read the End is Nigh...

...but fortunately, it was talking about the family unit. Phew. I think.

Incidentally, have you all heard the Jeff Wayne War of the Worlds? Narrated by Richard Burton's addictively velvet voice, it's HG's classic story - progged up. I'm reminded just how good it is on a relisten. "Forever Autumn" is the famous single, and NOTHING beats "The Eve of the War" and "Horsell Common". It does trickle in the second half, true, but "Spirit of Man" is also an awesome progballad to scream along to. There's a great album of remixes and dubs based on it too, thank you Spotify. Spielburg's adaptation chose, smartly I guess, to use very very little music. Unfortunately, the record is so iconic in my brain at least, that it kept playing over the images.

"No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century..."

The films are good, HG's a classic, and Welles deserves a prize for cheek. But this is the definitive version.

Dump-du-dump-dididi-dump-di-dump -UUUUUUUUUUUUUU-LAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Just adding my voice to the vocal internet outcry about the Pirate Bay trial.

It's not just that I feel strong sympathy for the people involved, there's something not quite right about it. It reminds me of Al Capone. Everyone knew Al Capone was breaking the law - but no one could prove it. Ultimately, they arrested him for tax evasion, which they could make stick.

The Pirate Bay is legal...ish. All it does is provide a linking service to where other people have uploaded music. So while it's blatantly facilitating illegal behavior, it's not illegal itself. I'm not a lawyer, not even close - but my understanding of the situation is to have convicted them would require some enormous smudging and squeaking on behalf of the prosecution.

It is not the fault of those four men, personally, that $3.6 million has been ripped off from companies - had they not been there, someone else would have. There's a lie at the heart of the trial, because they are being prosecuted on behalf of every single user of the Pirate Bay. Is this fair, I ask? Yes, they are at fault, and yes perhaps a large example needs to be made. But are the Companies going to hunt down Demonoid, Isohunt, and all those ones not famous enough for me to know the name of after this?

I'm not saying they weren't doing something wrong - but I don't think they should have to pay $3.6 million of damages either. It's like arresting a knife manufacturer, because people have used his products in a murder. Forgetting that it is not his fault how customers use his service, and that knives do have an important and useful part in our society.

And there are ways of using it legally. I've never downloaded anything I would have been willing to buy. I have a pirate copy of Warriors at the Edge of Time, so I can put an album already posessed on LP onto my MP3 player. It is legal to change the format of things you own, and I consider the royalties already passed on. Is it fair for the company to make me buy a product twice, because formats have changed? The same goes for my DVD of King's Demons. I own a video, but can't play it on my laptop at university. When that appears legally, does the BBC want me to pay for it a second time? With format changes, the companies have a real trick: the potential to sell us the same album on record, tape, CD, i-Tunes download, and whatever comes next. Within fifty years, my video collection will be useless and I'll be forced to upgrade.

At it's purest level, I see the potential of web download as redressing this balance. Another way I have used it is for collecting outdated Doctor Who memrobilia - books, magazines, novels. Strictly illegal, but if you choose to think of purchasing a product as a method of paying it's creator, then it is morally fine. There is no way I could aquire, say, So Vile a Sin and get any of the proceeds to Orman and Aaronovitch. Instead, the winner would be the unscrupulous former owner, charging anything upwards of £100 for the damn thing. It's like an unofficial public domain. I can get it for free, or get it off eBay - the original company and creator will still not see a penny of it.

Of course, this presupposes that everyone will consider the morality of downloading, and the majority of people probably do not. This is a shame, because the internet is a fantastic tool, and we need the companies to see how great a way it is of distributing media. Piracy will not be stamped out - instead, it should be integrated. Spotify, iPlayer and 4OD are three examples of the pirate ideology - being able to find and consume media online - being adapted to a legal framework. And they're brilliant!

The way I percieve the legal-piracy of the future - let's call it privateering! - is the internet as
a repository for the lost. If the privateer wants to buy the latest James Bond movie, then he should stop being a cheap bastard and buy it. If he's interested in an avant-garde movie he saw twenty years ago, that's never been released on DVD - that he should be able to find on the web. TV shows which were never released. Books long out of print. With an effective indexing system, copyright authors could even withdraw such materials from the program if they ever wanted to rerelease them.

I'm a romantic - art and knowledge should be free. As Freeware Genius puts it, and seeing the motto gives me an inner boost every time I open the site, "SOME DAY ALL SOFTWARE WILL BE FREE". But I recognise the piper must be paid, and so he should be. The internet is an oppertunity to free up media. Perhaps the companies are just running scared because it also gives individuals chance to liase directly with the artists and cut them out altogether. Take Bandstocks - fans invest £10 or more in an album, to enable it's release, not the companies. I'm so tempted to get involved, because the idea of it is just so beautiful: rum and grog for everyone!
So I'll leave you with the uplifting words of Patrick Wolf, and I'll see you in this future:

"My roots in the music industry have always been firmly placed in
independent music. As a teenager I was inspired by visionary labels such as
Digital Hardcore, Fierce Panda, Planet Mu, and Tigerbeat 6. As an 18 year old, I
was given full creative space by the small label Faith and Industry to grow and
to make the records and sounds I had to. After two independent releases I
decided to experiment to see what would happen when a major label and my third
album collided. It was very beneficial and a great learning curve for me, but I
am very happy to be back in the creative, free world of independent music; on my
own label, Bloody Chamber Music (A bloody chamber being a heart, a tribute to
the book "The Bloody Chamber" by Angela Carter), started earlier this year.

So, here I am. Album four with my own record label. With the old world
recording industry a rapidly sinking ship; recording studios closing weekly,
free downloads daily, more musicians hitting the long road than ever before to
feed themselves, I am happy to have come across a new intimate system of
audience and artist participation called Bandstocks. This will be funding Bloody
Chamber Music, and the international physical and digital release of my fourth
album, Battle, and its collective singles. It’s an exciting game we can play
together; you get to be an investor and stakeholder in the album. You will get
special editions, first copies of the album, private privileges and mixes... and
we get to conquer the world together and show that independence and self
sufficiency are the two ways forward and out of the mess the industry is in.

When I pressed my first EP we made one thousand vinyl copies. We sold these
at friends’ shops across the UK, and with the money made we funded the mix of
Lycanthropy. The music industry needn’t be so complicated or Wizard of Oz. It’s
time to drop the curtain and stop relying on a stale patriarchy. I'm excited, I
hope you are too. Welcome to the future!

Patrick Wolf. 9th.December 2008

I think I've finished my long, long, long work on my Lord M. "fanmix". And for people who weren't paying attention (where have you been?!), he's my worryingly persistant roleplay character from some years ago, and solid evidence that I may be nuts.

I'm posting it here, because I feel accomplished, and so so proud because it's perfect. But I can't exactly launch it at anyone in particular. People who weren't part of it would need it accompanied by a long commentary-come-life story which I don't, at present, have time to write -people who were a part, there are things I still can't talk about. But it's here for the record, so envisage me grinning like anything as I post this.

Because it's mine, it's terribly 80s - I'd never noticed how 80s my music tastes were until finishing this - but every song is perfectly satisfying in meaning, and mostly in lyrics. I like most of the songs on this list - two I'm not so fond of in normal life, three are complete favourites - but their right-ness is such that that's irrelevant. Plus, it fits together well - the progression from female voices to male, the progression from an external viewpoint to an intensely internal one, and the arrangement of piano-y ones with piano-y ones, synthy ones with synths. It's not meant to be a collection of great music, so don't bother with crits from that corner.

That was aimed at you, Friend 2 :p Feel free to listen, but I'm not expecting you to go wild over my choice of music...

I've started working on a mk. II album, for the songs which didn't quite fit, and to rectify problems like the fact massively important figures like Lucy and Lancaster don't figure on this album at all. But enough gushing for a something which is going to be appreicated by, well, just me really. If anyone wants a listen, it's on Spotify here:

spotify:user:unmutual:playlist:7szvbcXq5Rc5PPAwDjolFI <------put that into search bar

And Spotify has just been opened up for everyone to download. Hurrah! So barring ethical quandries, you've no excuse! You might still enjoy it as a music collection, even if you miss the story connections. And if you do want a proper commentary, explaining what goes where, I'll be happy to provide one - post-exams.

Note: they've weirdly removed Kate Bush's "Hounds of Love", which is why the Futureheads cover is there instead. I don't mind the cover usually, but Kate Bush is important for the album...

Seasons Change

1 - Thunderball, Tom Jones
(Nice dramatic and definite opening. It's an external view of the character, all the judgements easily made by other characters. The one problem is the "Bondness" of the tune, those very iconic riffs. But I don't think it hurts to identify the two characters. Also, for people keeping score, this is the underwater Bond film.)

2 - Moonlight Shadow, Maggie Reilly/Mike Oldfield
(The words are fantastic, particularly the colours: if you know what you're looking for, I guarentee you'll catch some really alarmingly suitable lyrics in the background here. The folk feel reflects the distance - he can't entirely remember what happened, which is nicely mirrored in the genre of a folk song recalling a generic memory. Plus, the contrast between such a powerful male voice to a female one seems significant. Somehow.)

3 - Hounds of Love, Kate Bush
(a "17 years later" song, covering the entire period in between that and the Pub. I had to have some Kate Bush on here, for weird reasons involving the way my brain works. First pick was Running up that Hill, but the words here are apter. Listen out for the obligatory watery reference.)

4 - My Immortal, Evanescance
(Yes, I know. Leave me alone. I didn't want to get into the emotionally heavy stuff until later on, which is why the first few are quite musically unemotional. They set the scene and tell the history. The piano feel is nice for the entry into the Pub too. It's emotional frankness and openness is a direct contrast to Hounds of Love's running away approach.)

5 - The Rose, Bette Midler
(this and the above two are the really important tracks for me personally, for various complicated reasons I'll explain one day if I've got time and you're drunk. It's another nice contrast - My Immortal is heavy stuff, so this female-with-piano song lifts the mood into hope. It's another solid song, nice to mark both the centre of the album and entry into the Pub)

6 - She's Like the Wind, Patrick Swayze
(see above. Only, I adore this song and always have, forgetting momentarily it's from Dirty Dancing. The piano sound again links this to the previous. The deep emotional hopelessness of it all, and nature imagery: this is the first of the romance songs. It's a shame it all gets so 80s at the end, but it's close to what we mean. Suitably, the next few songs are all male vocalists.)

7 - Memory of Water, Marillion
(the most recent addition, and the one which made me go "yes, it is finished". Although this one may be substituted if I find something better, as it's the title which stood out more than the content. But the tone change is nice, and it segues into the 80s-ness of the second half. Some very important things happen here, and they have to be marked. They are not good things. Time to play spot the water reference...!)

8 - Don't Let the Sun go Down on Me, Elton John
(the ultimate Lord M. song, every single word of it, particularly for this period in time. The piano thing wasn't deliberate, but I suppose I am the one picking the songs, and it links them both together and to the Regency period. I like the light/dark images, especially in light of the next few songs. Even though this is romantic, it's still rather hopeless.)

I'm not happy with the segue here, it doesn't work - but there are no other natural events here to provoke a song. Perhaps I should put on a piece of Vivaldi? It sort of works if you substitute the cover from Lost Boys (can't remember the band right now). It also works if you move it before "Memory of Water" - but as the two songs refer to very specific events, that screws up the chronology. If more work is done, it will be done here.

9 - I'm Not in Love, 10CC
(don't take this literally: this is a song about someone who is very much in love, and the terror of really needing someone. It's also one of my favourite songs - but it's also apt in several different ways. Not to mention taking the edge off the obnoxious 80s-ness of...)

10 - Lament, Ultravox
(hate the tune, had to have the lyrics. Like "Sun going down on me", it's amazing how close this is to his actual thought processes at that moment. I suppose these songs are fairly universal, like the way love songs seem cheesy and OTT, until you're actually in love and you think "weird, this is exactly how it feels")

The temptation to add "I'm getting married in the morning" from My Fair Lady was unbearable.

11 - In the Dark, Tony Banks
(You didn't think I'd let him have a happy ending, did you?

A strong contrast to the opening, In the Dark is a very ambiguous and subdued ending. The proggyness softens the shock of Lament, and of course we're back to gorgeous pianoness, and that cathartic organ. Less vitally, I also love Tony Banks. No, it's not to be a sad end - but it is uncertain. Who know's what's going to come? In fact, the future turned out to be irritating and far from content, but not too bad either)

Early morning, so I'm still in my dream - which featured me and the Fifth Doctor, a room full of baddies and a physical fist fight between the two sides. 'Twas a pretty cool dream, because even though "Warriors of the Deep" stands as testiment that 5 is perfectly capable of beating people up (if he absolutely has to), this Pertwee-style diving in hi-yah!

Probably because I was working on my comic last night. Plot so far: the Master works out there is only one person he can rely on - himself. So he skips back through time and liberates his former selves, and the four of them unite to take over the universe. Four = Delgado, Ainley, Roberts and Simm. I decided the "corpse masters" were in no fit state to do other than rasp, and Derek Jacobi is only the Master for about three minutes. And not even in my mangled canon could I fish him out. Pity, as he's my favourite. It's brilliant, and I'm very proud of my grasp of the dialogue. The plot isn't bad either. The problem is, some scenes I can only make work in my head, and look strange written down. I'm also conscious that I hate Doctor Who novels for being angsty and violent, so am working very very hard to keep it tame and angst free. Yet remove the angst, you lose the drama and danger. Plus, at least one of the four Masters comes from a very bad place, and all he wants to do is hurt things. The chief problem is I'm not up to it, and even if he wants to remove the Doctor's fingers one at a time before toasting them on kebab skewers while singing an aria, I'm not going to sit there and let him do it.

And indeed, that's probably where the dream came from - because one of the scenes I've envisaged but can't draw is the Doc and one Master actually descending to physical violence. It'd never happen on TV, but it's meant to be strange. Putting it on paper is too strange, though, and might I add, way way too slashy. I freely admit that the slash exists there, so like the show, it's innuendo-y without actually directly confirming or denying anything. Script also includes the line: "The Master sent you flowers?". But it makes sense in context.

Russell T. Davies has this to say on the subject:

"You've got to be merciless. People will say 'You love your characters'. But nobody loves their characters that much. If you really write, and you love them, you are the God of them and you can kill them with the click of a finger. It's joyous to do so."

Good for you, Russ. I wish I had your nerves.

I watched and enjoyed the Doctor Who special. Some 12 hours after the rest of the country, which is a shame. More than perhaps any other show - except maybe the 9'oclock news - people sit down to watch it live. It is a television event, and one shared by so many different groups. I like the idea that there are families around the country experiencing at the same time as I am.

The internet is being over-critical, but I don't think that's fair. Yes, everyone prefers the smart-and-upsetting episodes - yet the power of, say, and "Earthshock" is that is comes as a shock. See Galactica, Hellblazer or Torchwood for an example of people getting this wrong: a gruelling experience every single week. For me, it quickly becomes wearying. Perhaps it's just because I engage too deeply with the fiction, and can't physically go through that many high-tension, high-emotion events?

It's a fantasy novel cliche, and whether it's true of real life is debatable. Yet in terms of fiction, light needs dark, dark needs light - they are what define each other. The "everybody lives!" end of Empty Child is only powerful because the Doctor usually gets extras killed off with alarming regularity. But the same goes for Warriors of the Deep, which features the Doctor getting some 200 humans-and-Silurians killed through a bad mix of compassion, doubt, good faith and bad conscience. It packs a punch through being suprisingly dark, just as Empty Child is suprisingly happy. Those two episodes which culminate in dead companions are only moving, intense because there are 31 other companions who left safe and in one piece.

The point is, Doctor Who needs these stopgap episodes, the Shakespeare Codes and Unicorn and the Wasps, to give the significant episodes their power, and with three hours of Tennant left on telly, it's going to be full-throttle emotional onslaught from here onwards. In addition, it's one of the brilliant things about this show that it can be something different every week, from real-life drama, gothic horror, icky horror, epic fantasy - right the way to daft comedic runabouts on the other end of the spectrum. It's occured to me before that the problems I have appreciating other TV shows might just be one of tone, because I'm spoilt by a show which can be different every single week. Particularly Galactica, now I've got to the end of my fourth season of them sitting around on the same six sets. Yawn, another Viper battle? Another emotional challenge for contemporary America? But it can't jump like we do.

My point is, Planet of the Dead wasn't trying to be intelligent or thought provoking - it was about a bunch of commuters crashing on Tattooine and featured the Doctor attempting to make alien technology compatable with a London bus, while eating an easter egg and flirting with Lara Croft. Yet if you accept its dramatic ambitions were small, you can't deny it did exactly what it was trying to do brilliantly. Full review on my blog: http://malcassairo.blogspot.com/


Other news? Still ploughing through that darn essay, and fanmixing. One of the things I truly adore about Spotify is that companies have uploaded their entire catalogues, which means some really odd stuff has slipped through. How else could I listen to "Moog Rock - Classic Hits"? Or "Balm of Gilead", a really limp rendition of Gospel songs by a gal with a guitar interspersed with maudlin facts about slavery. Other sources, and yes I admit ones of potentially shaky legality such as Youtube, always had the problem of relying on what the web could find - which meant hugely popular. Bad for me, who likes my music bizzare or obscure. Spotify might have weird absences like Peter Gabriel, Pink Floyd and the Beatles. But it makes up for it by having the full back catalogues of other Genesis alumni - Tony Banks and Steve Hackett. Several albums worth of the wonderful Victor Borge. Lots of Rick Wakeman. And of the more mainstream crowd, all their demos and extra tracks which I never got due to sticking to albums. Banks'n'Hackett are my real treat, though, because as a family we have all their LPs and have yet to upgrade to CD.

As a student, I haven't been able to take any CDs with me to uni, certainly no LPs; and my mp3 memory is pitifully small. So it's great to look up whole albums which we have at home, and I had to leave behind. Furthermore, the oppertunity for finding single, rare tracks is wonderful. For years, I've wanted to hear Jeff Buckley's cover of "Back in NYC", but never known where to start. It's great, as good as the original. Or I've a strong dislike of Coldplay, but have a true fondness for "Violet Hill". After that, things like a nice interface and playlisting capabilities are just added bonuses.

Some people have raised the artists as an issue. My thoughts are they're likely getting more this way than through sheer piracy. Furthermore, Friend 2 introduced me to the program, and she knows her music and has a policy of buying albums of small bands to support them, so I find it hard to believe she'd do it if it was that bad.

Finally, my first Lord M watch has broken. It's slightly, but not much like the real thing - too small, opens in the wrong direction - I got it from "Pocket Watches of the World" magazine. Later, my friends teamed up to get me a proper one, and while that's not perfect either, the heaviness is better and it's engraved with his father's initials. But the broken-ness of the first one unnerves me a little, because if we're going to talk about the fictional watch in detail, it's broken and can't be wound. It was probably a metaphor for something at the time...

And life continues to continue. The last 48 hours have been intensely bizzare - I have a fiction problem is all you're getting - so you'll mostly just get trivia instead.

This morning, I'm listening to Youth Without Youth. Ach, that film. Count off the points: Francis Ford Coppola, Tim Roth, existentialism, golden-colour-scheme and stunning music. How could I not want to see it? And I spent two years looking forward to it, and finally got it on DVD. We watched it at Christmas. It's still the butt of family jokes. It's about a dying lingustic professor who is hit by a lightningbolt, and starts getting younger - in the mean time, he's chased by Nazis who want his secrets, gains super-powers, along with a metaphysical double who appears in mirrors any times he feels like a chat about the nature of reality - and meets the exact double of his true love, who'd married another in their youth. At which point, you're probably saying "wow". I don't want to say it was a bad film, because there was clearly buckets of invention and talent. But the end product was a total mess - there were six great films, which had been muddled together into one, well, bad one. And yet...it wasn't a totally wasted experience. Because I enjoyed the direction and acting, I admired the weird stuff and thought it looked and felt lovely. In other words, I was satisfied with every reason I was watching it. It just fell to pieces as a coherent experience. Damn shame, and I'm still painfully disappointed.

Last week, I told Calypso that actually all a film needs to do to have my full attention is to be beautifully shot with a tight colour scheme, and have great music. I am that easy to please, and oh I stand by the soundtrack: http://www.youthwithoutyouthmovie.com/

Click on -> soundtrack when you get there. Highlights are the main theme and Dominick's Nightmare.

>I love film soundtracks. They have to be right for the film, of course, but for me they should also be gorgeous in their own right.

Lets start with my favourite film composers - step up James Newton Howard: Unbreakable, Signs, The Village. Arguably it helps that he always collaborates with my favourite director - yet, arguably it's M. Night Shyamalan who is helped by Newton-Howard. The way he puts tunes together is the perfect back up for the beautiful moving stories he's trying to tell. Did I like The Village? Very much, but the music is above and away the thing I love best about it. I also like the Blood Diamond music. This man is good enough for me to give films an extra star. In fact, it's always a safe bet that I'll love the music of a favourite film. Most recently, he co-wrote The Dark Knight with Hans Zimmer, to staggering effect.


Harry Gregson Williams: Spy Game, Narnia. He comes second, mostly because he hasn't done so many films as N-H. Spy Game, like Signs and The Village, makes me blubber like anything - and the music is an important part of that. Spy Game was at one point my favourite ever soundtrack, and it's still a serious contender. Alas, I can't find any on Seeq, so you'll have to make do:


Ennio Morricone: isn't so much a favourite, as someone who I like all his films. Yes, the spaghetti westerns - Once Upon a Time in the West particularly. But also Legend of 1900, and that's very much helped by having Tim Roth on a boat with a grand piano for the whole running time.


And everyone else: Black Hawk Down is a true favourite soundtrack from Hans Zimmer. Made up mostly from jam sessions, it aims to replicate the streetfight between increasingly confused American soldiers in dusty Mogadishu by throwing traditional African beats and voices at electric guitars and rock music to see what happens. The results are intense.


Donnie Darko's original score is lovely, but then as soon as you add a piano to the mix I become unbearably biased. Incidentally, these pieces are some of the few which sound any good on Hampstead piano.



A bit of an odd one now - Battlestar Galactica. Oh, how I adore Bear McCreary's music for that show. It's one of the chief reasons I watch it, despite the fact I'm fundamentally opposed to what its trying to do. The soundtrack was one of the reasons I always enjoyed Heroes, but I physically don't have the effort to watch it any more. I'm not obsessed, and I've no one making me. I'm also a big fan of the Firefly tunes, which like many others on this list also involves warm strings with cold piano. Naturally, I enjoy the Doctor Who music - but only 50% of the time. Both new and classic can be broadly divided into awesome, and awful. Utopia and Planet of Fire: awesome. The Three Doctors: awful.





Tideland and Brazil are two favourite films, and I'm listing them together. Tideland is a piano thing again; but Brazil is a musical work of genius. I strongly recommend it to anyone considering a career in composing to see what can be done with a simple, irritating motif. He makes it sweeping. He makes it ethereal. He even rips off "Rhapsody in Blue":









Blade Runner, of course - I physically feel like I'm drowning in that soundtrack. And a new favourite, the original music for Watchmen, which is listed here due to it's obvious debt to Vangelis.

This list is sans Jackie Brown, Velvet Goldmine, Lost Boys because I'm only doing original scores. But Moulin Rouge is on the borderline, and it's not so much the songs they've chosen but what they do with them - those gorgeous new arrangements.



And Twilight. Yes, I know. No, I'm not changing my mind. In fact, I'll be talking about this film in a minute, but this is the ultimate expression of (what I feel is) great music redeeming anything. Anything at all. Our famille have oft noticed that film's debt to Galactica both stylistically and musically, and Galactica in it's turn owes a lot to the score of Black Hawk Down. Oh, Two Towers: Extended Version. And Youth Without Youth. And others I've forgotten, and will curse when I remember them later.

Of these, I only have 2 or 3 on CD. Partly because I never got around to it, partly because I'm cheap. But partly because I don't want to overlisten to them, particularly those ones which make me burst into tears, as it's an important part of the film experience for me.

Hrhm. Essay. Now. But anticipate my return next time I'm bored, bearing a quite literally, erm, glittering review of Twilight.