Alasdair Watson

Among the many subjects that anw and I disagree on, we find music.  I don’t just mean we like different styles of music, or different artists, you understand.  I mean, there are some artists we both like.  Joni Mitchell.  The Tiger Lillies.  Others.  No, one of the things we disagree about is volume.  Andrew has said, on more than on occaision, that he doesn’t enjoy loud music.  Doesn’t see why it needs to be loud that “I can hear that comfortably”.  (I approximate his views.  I’m sure he’ll tell me if I’m wrong.)

I on, the other hand, believe that there is an awful lot of music out there that is meant to be played Extremely Loudly.  That playing it at comfortable volumes does not show it off to best effect.

Case in point: Tonight.  Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, Brixton Academy.

I had worried that Cave had forgotten how to be Loud.  The Boatman’s Call, No More Shall We Part, Nocturama – these albums are not Loud Music.  Good, yes.  But not Loud.  Well, OK, bits of Nocturama are Loud, but a) it’s just not that good compared to the sublime stuff in The Boatman’s Call, and b) when I saw the Nocturama tour, he did not play the Loud Bits.  Or much of anything Loud.  It was a bit shit, really.

Abattoir Blues and The Lyre of Orpheus sounded like they had promise, but so, like I say, did bits of Nocturama.  I need not have worried.  Nick Cave has not forgotten how to be Loud.  From the opening drumbeat strut of “Abattoir Blues” itself (and I’d just like to say how much I love that title, and the writing in that song itself) to the crashing joy in “My Beautiful World”, and the bitter shriek of “Hiding All Away” (good on record – a return to a much earlier of Cave’s oeuvre, live), this was a Loud night.  Oh, there were breaks, here and there – “Babe, You Turn Me On” and “Easy Money”, and a couple of others, but mostly, this, like all the other reviews I’ve seen have said, a return to form.

(While I’m thinking of it, “Babe, You Turn Me On” is a good example of why I like many of Cave’s lovesongs, by the way – they’re a celebration of love without being saccharine or romantic.  They’re direct, and accurate about what being in love can be like, inculding the physical.  There aren’t enough lovesongs like his.)

And the slight re-workings of his older stuff to take advantage of the gospel singers (who certainly give the impression of having the time of their lives with Cave’s material, by the way – there was one in particular that was really getting into it, which was nice – a gig’s always better if it looks like the band are enjoying themselves up there) are also fucking brilliant.  “Deanna” and “Stagger Lee” were particular stand-outs.

And they came back for a second encore, and we got to leave to the tortured howl of “The Mercy Seat” that way it should be done, rather than the limp-wristed sub-Cash effort that we got on the Nocturama tour.

I wonder if I can get hold of a ticket for Friday…

New job began yesterday, then gym and coma.  Quiet night tonight.  Nick Cave tomorrow (anyone else going tomorrow, or is everyone going on Thurs/Fri?).  Parents Thursday.  B-Movie Friday.  Haircut, then Andrew’s birthday do of some stripe Saturday, possibly followed by ill-advised clubbing, given that I’ve got a game to run Sunday.  (I had decided that I wouldn’t go out late Saturday night, but I caught myself idly wondering about maybe going clubbing during a quiet moment this afternoon, which is a bad sign.  I know what I’m like.  I write this in a hope to double-bluff myself out of going.  I think.  Maybe.  Now I’m just rambling.  Ahem.)

Now I think of it, next week looks reasonably quiet until Friday, when it’s Flogging Molly, likely followed by Synthetic Culture.  I am slightly concerned about the amount I’m out clubbing of late.  I have this terrible suspicion that I ought to be doing something more grown up and responsible, but I have no idea what.  Still, I refuse to even slightly contemplate Saturday-night clubbing that weekend – I have gigs on both the Monday and the Tuesday of the following week, and I’m buggered if I’m going to be less that perfectly-rested for either of them.

Oh, and one of the techies among you: Cut for the benefit of non-techies

Do I:

a) go clubbing, dance for hours, and generally have fun, but come home exhausted in the morning?
b) stay home, have an early night, and be generally well rested, but miss out on potential excitement?

As of Monday, I’m employed again.  So, that’s the end of my free time.

What worthwhile things have I done with it?

Well, I’ve seen a few films :
SAW: enjoyable serial killer horror.  Cary Elwes gives an excellent performance, some genuinely horrible bits.  Hits what it’s aiming at. 
AVP: Complete rubbish, but enough to keep my attention for as long as it asked for it.  Felt a bit cheated by the ending. 
THE INCREDIBLES: The best Pixar film yet.  Serious contender for film of the year.

I’ve read a few books:
JONATHAN STRANGE & MR NORRELL: excellent, imaginative stuff, thoroughly recommended.  The ending felt a bit sudden, although not rushed or unsatisfactory.
UNDERGROUND LONDON: One of the best books on the topic I’ve read – not perhaps as in depth as some, but it covers a great breadth of stuff, and does it without ever becoming dry, as plenty of other books do.

And I’ve been out and about a bit.  Hadn’t realised that the National Gallery has what is possibly my favourite painting on display, so that was a nice surprise yesterday, and I spent quite a while with that.  Finally managed to see John Dee’s bits and bobs at the British Museum, too.  Must’ve taken him a hell of a time to carve that wax.

If it weren’t for this lack of money thing, I could really live with unemployment.  As it is, I’ll be working for Sanctury Group as a web programmer.  Click around under “artist managment” on that site, if you’re at all curious about which acts are with them…

The first thing my iTunes random shuffle presented me with this morning was Johnny Boy’s “You Are the Generation That Bought More Shoes, And You Get What You Deserve”.  It followed it with Carter’s “Bloodsport For All”.  It’s really quite hard not to see an omen in that today.  I’d be creeped out, if I weren’t busy being resigned to nuclear (or perhaps I should say “nukuler”) armageddon.  American voting public, I despise you.

But you really do have to squint.

Yes, I got a new job.  Only one more week of loafing about for me, and then it’s back to work.  I suppose I’d better find out about these oystercard things, since it looks like I’m finally going to have a job that’ll make getting one worthwhile…

Normally, when a topic enitrely fills my friends page, everyone’s remarking on some kind of unusual weather.

Not today.

Fuck.

[Written on the PDA this afternoon]

I’m a daft bastard and have inadvertantly trapped myself on a platform at Wimbledon station for half an hour.  Thank god for modern technology, eh?

It’s been six years since dodgyandcors and incursus got married.  That’s really gone and stuck in my head, because it’s reminded me of two other anniversaries that are coming up in the next couple of weeks.  On Wednesday, it’ll be six years since a close friend of the family died, completely unexpectedly.  That was one hell of a shock.  And the later in the month, it’ll be six years since Ellie dumped me, and that was horrible in the way that only that first binning can be.  And all that’s going through my head is “It can’t be that fucking long, can it?”

Apparently, it can.

But thank fuck for six year perspective, eh?  I look back, and I almost don’t recognise my 21 year old self.  Almost.  And no, I don’t wish I could go back and give myself any advice, although a slap isn’t out of the question.  And, of course, in six years time I’ll be saying that about my 27 year old self, but that’s not a shock.

I’m really not sure where I’m going with this.  It just doesn’t seem like six years since I spent my working week in that server room in Kiln Lane, and lived in a poky wee bedroom at my parents place.  It doesn’t seem like six years since my driving ambition was a job in Edinburgh.  Doesn’t seem like six years since…  I could go on.  I don’t know, maybe it’s not really a shock that this time of that year imprinted so strongly on me – it was one hell of an emotional switchback, after all.

But jesus, six years, and look at all the shit I’ve crammed into it, and it’s still not half enough.  And part of me wants to hear that the next six years can be a little calmer, that maybe I can go a few years without something happening in my life to shock, confuse and generally bother me, because it feels like eighteen months of relative calm is the most I’ve managed since I left school, and another part of me says “Don’t be bloody stupid – look at the amount you’ve learned, and there’s more to come!”

Ah, hell, I don’t know what I’m thinking, but my train’s due any minute, and my good christ, six bloody years?  Could we make time pass a little less quickly, please?  I’d like to get more stuff done.

Got a new phone today, because I was due an upgrade, and it was free, and I need something to forstall my technology lust for the next few months, because I won’t be able to afford any of the shiny toys I’ve had my eye on.  The phone has a decent camera (well, it’ll take 640×480 images and not look utterly shit, which is what I wanted) and bluetooth, so I can get the damn things off without having to email them.  This makes it actually worth having a cameraphone.  Hurrah!  Now all I have to do is resist spending 50 quid on a bluetooth adaptor for the palm…

Things that Rock (ii)

I’ve skimmed my “recent entries” page.  The great majority of my posts lately have been of the complaining sort.  Or at least, they’ve started out with something that happened that I didn’t like, and meandered on from there.  This is totally unnacceptable.  Just because I’ve had a bit of rubbish time of late is no excuse for degenerating into the sort of behaviour that characterises other people’s journals.

So, unemployment, day two.  (Technically, day four or six, but I’m counting from this Monday, rather than last week, and I don’t intend to include weekends in the count.  The last two days of last week were time to unwind, that’s all.  Yes.)  Thus far, I’m enjoying the little things.  Like the luxury of a reasonably leisurely breakfast in the morning, rather than having whatever I manage to grab on my way to work.  The time to make coffee, and toast muffins before doing anything with my day is fantastic.  Muffins and chopped liver are a great way to start the day.  (I can hear the retching from here.  You’re all freaks.  Liver is great, and good for you, too.)

In case you’re wondering, I am utterly determined to enjoy being unemployed, even if I’d rather it was only for a short while.  Yeah, I have a few worries, and it’s going to crimp my lifestyle a bit, but on the other hand, I have the novelty of free time.  I can actually do most of the things I want to in a given day, and still have spare time.  There’s a very real danger that I might get around to some of those jobs I’ve been putting off for years – Ninth Art has already had some upgrades to its search function today, with more planned, and assuming that I’m still unemployed this time next week (I’ve got other things to do for the next while) I think I might finally get around to coming up with an overhaul for Black Ink.  God forbid I should be unemployed long enough to actually feel like doing some writing, though…

Yes, I know how well the last few times that I’ve remembered that I’ve got a website there and tried to do something with it have worked out.  This won’t be any different, but it’ll at least look prettier.  Well, it should.  Well, it might.  Maybe.  Stop looking at me like that.

Things that Rock(i)