Thursday 8th of March, 2001
At some point these posts will no doubt dwindle to "Got up. Did stuff. Went to bed". Probably when I get busy (like next week, I think), or I do stuff that is too boring (or embarrassing) to write about. For example if I spend a week doing nothing but counting pebbles, or greasing sheep. For example. Not that I'm likely to do those things. Not that anybody is likely to do those things. I hope.
Ahem.
When the buzzer goes for the post this morning I rush downstairs to discover that there is no post for me. Why do people always press my buzzer, even if they are after a completely different flat. Or perhaps the postman just presses all the buttons - as I am at the front door collecting the post, the chap from 3c (for whom there is a package) comes down. As I go back up the stairs, a woman from one of the other flats comes down to see if there's anything for her. All in our pyjamas. Almost a sense of community there, in a Jacques Tati sort of way.
Potter.
Gym, for a further course into modern popular semiotics via the education medium known as MTV. The group I thought were Steps were actually S Club 7 and vice versa. Am much better informed now, totally up to speed with popular culture, and that empty feeling has abated. Feeling tired - don't manage to do the full hour of pointless cycling. Manage to lift some simulated moderaely heavy objects. Sit in the Very Hot Room, sweating the March Poisons out, with some success. After I've finished I do feel a lot cleaner in general, not just in the "less aromatic" sense.
Ben calls to see if I can go into Walker tomorrow, to finish the Nick Book. I can.
Allow myself a short nap, and then reclaim another couple of square feet of the living room. Hurrah - I'm aiming for some sort of menschhood by the summer. Or perhaps the forces of chaos will regroup...
How exciting.
Another correction to the Scholastic book comes through - I do it and bat it back, although after tidying up, it takes me longer to find the stylus for the graphics tablet than it does to do the job itself.
I find more message boards for people who are interested in songs and that sort of thing. On one, someone has written a reply to almost every message offering his services (a company called something like Major Rock Star promotions - essentially, he's looking for Bright Young Things to fleece. Being a Dull Old Thing, I can easily resist his blandishments), so I feel less guilty about putting my URL in the messages.
All the same, it's a very strange world out there, or to be more specific over there, in the U.S. The entire world seems to be geared towards the industry, which is based increasingly in Nashville (as far as I can tell). Everybody writes Country tunes, and are desperate for Cuts (that is to say popular singers recording versions of their songs). A lot of self-promotion, and very little debate.
And I like debate. Even bad-tempered argument, as long as it doesn't degenerate into A War of Flames.
There's a company called Taxi, who claim they are in contact with A&R and record and film companies and want music to place in Films and TV. And I have no reason to doubt their claims. They have teams of reviewers who will critique members' songs. All well and good, but I've seen scans of the review sheets posted on the internet, and the criteria they use are... not inimicable to what I do (and what a lot of my colleagues do), but somehow irrelevant. For example, I know at what rate I want to Get To The Hook, and controlled access to The Hook is quite an important weapon. However, for Radio Friendliness, you can't Get To The Hook quickly enough. So.
I was watching Brel the other night, and as I am writing this, Echoes by the Pink Floyd is playing. Neither of those would get much of a hearing. But, I suppose the counter argument runs, those are special cases. Well yes. But isn't that what each of us hopes - that we are special cases, at least in a small way. One doesn't need to be a legend like Brel or multimillionaires like Pink Floyd - though obviously I wouldn't turn the money down (basic rule of thumb - never turn money down) - but a right to a practice on one's own terms, and to promote and develop that practice to its natural capacity, is that too much to expect.
Perhaps it is - the underlying tone of a lot of things I read inside and outside the Industry is an assumption that only those people who do things the way that the Industry demands can be allowed access to the Gates. You can consider yourself to be a Star, to be Special, but the ultimate arrogance is to consider yourself to be a Special Case, not to have to observe the Rules - Industry preferences are getting the authority of Natural Laws.
That's actually quite an interesting thought - the constant prosecution of the idea, particularly in America, that someone should Follow Their Dream, but only on the tacet understanding that that dream is essentially the same as everybody else's. Thus underpinning an increasingly shaky edifice of fealty and serfdom that is the relationship between the Artist and the Industry.
It's curious, but not altogether surprising, that as people have become more and more aware of the nature of the relationship that the Industry has with its Artistic Serfs, the propaganda that encourages Young People to enter into a relationship with the Industry on its own terms - an ideology of Fame At Whatever Cost, Fame Without Responsibility (the responsibility for the writing or production of the music) - has gone into overdrive.
Or perhaps I'm just bitter.
But I've got nothing to be bitter about. Everythings pretty much fine on the musical front.
I suppose it's annoying that when I see amazing performers, I know that they will never have a reputation that exends beyond this room or a tiny archipelago of rooms like this.
That the Industry excludes a lot of terrific music is a given. Most of this music has found a place outside the mainstream Big Five (or possibly Big Four) - my personal favourites du jour are Stereolab, Tortoise, Lambchop, other bands like that. Post Rock, Techno, Drum and Bass - these genres have managed to achieve a genuine samizhdat status. What, I wonder, are the conditions that have allowed this to happen?
And should this become a Rant rather than a diary entry?
I hope that both the people who read it get something out of it, anyway.