The Necessary Nose Ring

Last night saw the continuation of the To All The Albums I’ve Loved Before saga. The work that received sporadic bursts of attention and inattention was a seminar on reservation of title clauses.

It never fails to astound me how no matter how much you seem to be trying to cram into your head at any one time, there remains an immense and unbelievably complex metropolis of the rest of it that you have yet to navigate. People have written 800 page tomes just on reservation of title clauses. I spend a term reading Crime And Punishment, ten minutes a day, and at the end of it there are thousands more great works of literature to read. I have been a classically trained musician since the age of 5 and there remain thousands of composers and their works that I have yet to appreciate. Will my mind ever stop boggling?

So last night’s playlist was chosen much in the same way as the night before, with much of the same effect i.e. not much work done, because I kept having to stop what I was doing and listen to exceptionally good bits. Or exceptionally good songs. Or exceptionally good song sequences. You’re probably beginning to realize my problem…

Wowee Zowee (Pavement): I should probably say that every Pavement album I own has been my favourite at one point or another (yes, even Brighten The Corners), but last night I was in the mood for catchiness, so that meant this one was it. Business Idea Which Will Never Succeed But Would Be Really Cool If It Could: Pavement karaoke. I mean it. Just imagine a room full of people going “Whenever, whenever, whenever, when-ne-ne-ne-ne…” or “Graaaaaaaaaave architecture…” I think it’d be fun. :)

Ben Folds Five (Ben Folds Five): I lost track of them a bit after The Unauthorised Biography Of Reinhold Messner disappointed me hugely, so I don’t really know what’s going on with them now, but this album is still rollickingly great. My two highlights have always been the piano intro to Philosophy and the chorus of Alice Childress, but Underground and Julianne are immensely entertaining as well.

After these two I realized that listening to albums to which I knew almost all the lyrics was a bad idea while trying to write notes. “Hand me my nose ring” and “the necessary fiduciary relationship existed to enable use of the equitable tracing process” do not mix well in the brain. I only just managed to stop myself from writing “the necessary nose ring“.

Room Time

I have reached a strange sort of equilibrium between frustration with myself for being unable to keep to an orthodox sleep pattern and frustration with myself for being unable to commit enough time and discipline to studying.

This weekend, such an equilibrium involved me spending most of Saturday and Sunday daytimes asleep, and most of Saturday and Sunday nights doing work. Although I didn’t quite plan any of this, in hindsight it avoids the multiple distractions of the day and has me wide awake at times where there’s nothing much more to do than study.

After sleeping at 5 am on Saturday morning, I then woke up at 3 in the afternoon, which rather shocked me, but then forced myself to work from 10 pm to around 4 am, after which I did some website fiddling till breakfast at 9. I went to bed at noon, after mass, not to awaken till 9 pm. After dinner I came back up here and managed a reasonable amount of work again.

There are, however, problems to living this way. First of all, it’s decidedly antisocial, given that while the rest of the world is out and about I’m semi-comatose in my room. Today at around 1 pm I blearily opened the door to a knock from John, asking if I wanted to join everyone for soccer and picnicking in the park. I had to say no.

The second problem is that removing myself from the distractions of the world still doesn’t tackle the myriad distractions in my little room. While ploughing through the Roman law principles surrounding mixing of property, I decided that it was all getting a bit too masochistic and put on Daydream Nation. This usually means that for the first four tracks at the very least I am incapable of doing anything other than lying down with my eyes closed and experiencing intense aural bliss. This incapacitation continued in varying degrees over the next couple of hours, when I decided to revisit some of my old favourites just so they’d know they’re still loved even with my recent CD sprees.

Some random thoughts, which are not meant to be profound musical commentaries, because it’s 5 in the morning:

On Daydream Nation (Sonic Youth): ‘Cross The Breeze is such a trip. I regularly attempt to decide what my favourite Sonic Youth song is, and I regularly fail, but this often features prominently in the pointlessness. Love the song, love the album, love the band.

On Dog Man Star (Suede): It’s probably not particularly hip to like Suede these days, and I’m not really sure if it ever was, and I know this album has been criticized for being ridiculously overdramatic, and I know lots of Real Suede Fans prefer their first, and even more Real Suede Fans say the B-sides are the best, but I’ve listened to all the albums and most of the B-sides, and I still like this one best. I like every song on it except The Wild Ones and This Hollywood Life. LOVE Heroine, The Asphalt World and Still Life. So there.

On In The Aeroplane Over The Sea (Neutral Milk Hotel): I’d actually forgotten about this one for a while, because Marten lent me On Avery Island and I’ve been listening to that, but after Jeremy raved about it the other day, I started hearing the songs in my head and made a mental note to give it another spin. Sounds even better in real life than in my head. Maybe I’ll dream about two headed boys and kings of carrot flowers tonight. :)

Okay. It’s 5.04 am. Think I’ll put my last choice for the night on, switch the lights off and snuggle in. Hmmm. Blue Lines, or an Ella compilation?

Drunk Blatherings

(Originally written Saturday 13 Jan, 4.51 AM)

I really do wonder why I keep deluding myself about staying in and doing work when it’s so patently obvious that this just isn’t meant to happen on Friday nights. I started off well, deciding to pass up watching Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with Russ in favour of going for choir practice and a Singaporean Catholic prayer meeting type thingy, thinking I’d better show up for the first sessions of the year because I know I’ll skip enough of them later on. On the way into the hall, Lauren, Michael and Stephanie were on their way out to see the same film and asked me if I wanted to go along. Again, I held firm, said no, and marched resolutely into choir practice. After that, I found that there was no meeting thingy this week, so I went down to the dining room and had dinner.

At this point the cosmos, not content with its failed attempts to shove Russ, Lauren, Michael and Stephanie between me and mastery of concurrent civil liability, sent Matt as well on the same mission, asking if I wanted to go to University of London Union (ULU) for a drink.

This is how I ended up at ULU with Matt, Dave, Mary and Ruth till 1 am. On coming home, we joined Chris, Alec, Michael, Joseph, Emma, and Avril in the dining room, and after we’d helped them finish the two bottles of whiskey they were working steadily through, I went upstairs to get my litre bottle of Jack Daniels…

So this is how I’m writing this now, after four hours of drunkenly absurd conversation, which included topics like Matt’s grandfather’s cock, sheep versus goats, Irish pride (this involved very loud singing of Irish drinking songs, led by the very Irish James, who tottered in completely drunk somewhere along the way) and unorthodox erogenous zones.

The breakup of the party began when a comment about Jaco Pastorius led to a discussion about fretted versus fretless basses, and which Pastorius album was his best. This bored everyone else at the table except me, Matt, James and James’ friend, so they eventually drifted off, leaving us to indulge in more drunken arguments about which Metallica album was the best, which led to an argument about musical elitism and the fashionable practice of exalting some obscure limited edition EP just for the sake of oneupmanship over people who haven’t heard it, which led to an argument about whether music can be objectively judged or whether it is purely subjective, which led to an argument about…

I can’t quite remember when I left, but given that I now find myself here writing this, I must have left at some point. Hmm. Sleep looks good. Good night.

Restraint, In A Fashion

Yesterday, I finally managed some restraint. Let me begin by explaining that I’d headed to Oxford Street to return an item of clothing at H & M, but got there too late after a number of, er, distractions, on the way. So rather than waste the journey, I went into HMV, since it was still open.

The sale was surprisingly good, with lots of albums that I’d have bought if I didn’t already own them. After walking around a bit, I found Boss Hog’s Whiteout (9.99), Grandaddy’s The Sophtware Slump (9.99), Kruder & Dorfmeister’s The K & D Sessions (10.99), Craig Armstrong’s The Space Between Us (6.99) and an indie rock compilation with various interesting people on it (4.99).

BUT!! I only ended up buying the Craig Armstrong, and I’ve even decided to return that, because it’s not good enough to own. I figured I can either wait till I get Boss Hog and Grandaddy on Django, or wait until I get back to Singapore and get them at affordable prices from Borders. And I’ll borrow the K & D off Nick. Voila! Money saved, to spend frivolously another day. :P

God Is Glove II

I am confounded. Either the Lord giveth, taketh away and then…returneth, or there are some weird glove-abducting aliens about.

Shortly after Christmas Eve I lost a glove after midnight mass somewhere between Westminster Cathedral and Newman House, and then, through a happy coincidence, discovered that the remaining glove matched another odd glove I had remaining after I lost the other side of my previous pair, the two pairs of gloves being identical.

This morning, my lost glove came back. I was tottering down the stairs for breakfast in my usual morning subhuman fashion, and there it was. Lying on the second floor landing, looking for all the world like it’d been discarded only minutes before, when I knew the truth – that it had been missing nearly three weeks.

I snatched it up and scrutinized it. Black PVC, bulkyish, Thinsulate inside, altogether not too fashionable…it certainly looked and fitted like mine, so I figured it was. Either that, or there’s a murderer with rather small hands for the profession walking around with one icy hand, which is, I suppose appropriate in terms of dramatic effect.

The Lazarus glove. The prodigal glove. I am overflowing with biblical allusions. God, if you’re behind this, perhaps you could also get my scarf back here from Glasgow? Or just make me less of a scatterbrain, I suppose…

Happy! Productive!

I am not a happy bunny, but this is because I am not a bunny.

I am, however, happy.

This sudden but perhaps cryptically expressed happiness was born out of yesterday’s disgust with myself for exemplifying that modern maxim about the amount of work you can do expanding to fill up the available time you have. I took the entire day to do a reasonably simple essay, just because I kept taking very long breaks to do very irrelevant things. After handing my essay in with one minute to go, I resolved that this could not go on and something had to be done.

That something was…another visit to Impulse, and more CDs bought. :P
Olivia Tremor Control: Dusk At Cubist Castle (£4.99)
Wagon Christ: Tally Ho (£5.99)
Major Force West: 93-97 (£6.99) – this one was for Russ, not me. I’m not particularly into them.
E: Broken Toy Box (£3.99)

Having done that, I then zipped through Budgens, had a frugal and rather uninspired dinner of instant noodles (Bachelor’s, on special offer, bacon flavoured. What the hell was I thinking…) and sweet corn (Green Giant! Green Giant!), and then went to the library, where I printed off cases and did photocopying. I admit that all of this activity was pretty much as mindless as my earlier compulsive Minesweeping, but at least it was relevantly and productively mindless.

The real breakthrough came when I got back. I sat down. Looked through my file. There was a tutorial, to be done for Thursday. I did it.

I think I really need to emphasize just how groundbreaking that is for me. I’m talking tickertape parades, honorary doctorates, and vast numbers of intelligentattractiveemotionallyaccessiblebutstillmanlyandit
wouldreallybegreatiftheylovedSonicYouthtoo men lining up offering their love, lives and sexual favours.

I got to bed at 2, but couldn’t sleep till 4 because of the general confusion of my much beleaguered body clock, and the hacking cough that’s embarassing during the day and downright annoying whenever I lie down. And woke up this morning in time for breakfast! I got to the bank and paid my credit card bill before going for my property law seminar. While I’m in there waiting for it to start (yup, I got there with time to spare), Esther walks in, so it’s okay, hi Esther. And then who walks in behind her but Jeremy, who’s usually in Philadelphia! So, “what the hell are you doing here??!”, and I find out he’s on stopover en route back to Philly, and the next thing he says is that he’s got some CDs for me and he takes out Xen Cuts, Solesides Greatest Bumps, and Modest Mouse’s The Moon And Antarctica. A Kid Koala too, which was just on loan, but I’m not complaining. So Jeremy, if you’re reading this, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. You are a benefactor and then some.

I have to get out of the computer room to go find useful things to do so I can maintain this happy streak.

Buy Two, Return Three = Not Bankrupt Yet!

I just made Django richer yet again.

Guided By Voices: Mag Earwhig (used, $8.99)
Sunny Day Real Estate: How It Feels To Be Something On (used, $8.99)

I’m thinking of returning some of the CDs I bought from Impulse the other day. I wasn’t too fond of Tortoise’s TNT or William Orbit’s Pieces In A Modern Style. I’m aware that not liking TNT is a bit of a sin in some circles, but I found it a little too cold and clinical, and the instrumentation flat. I’ll listen to it again before making a final decision, but more out of respect for the City Slang maestros than anything else. As for the William Orbit, call me a curmudgeon, but I liked the original versions of the pieces better than his versions. I’ll also probably return Best Of Ella & Louie, because I realized that the songs I like best are the ones I already have.

Music read of the day: Pitchfork interviewed Amon Tobin.

Squandered Saturday

I really did mean to get something done today. I intended to get an early morning start on outlining my essay (due on Tuesday) in the library, and then meet Russ for lunch later. And I intended to make a definite start on the essay by today. That was, at least, the plan.

Instead, I’ve just got home from sitting in the Borders (Charing Cross Road) cafe till closing time, riveted to Bridget Jones: The Edge Of Reason, of all books. It all began when I went to the library only to find that it only starts opening on Saturdays next week, so I went to the computer room instead till Russ had finished working out or doing whatever it is that exercisey people do. We’d intended to give Soupworks a try, but its prices proved to be too exorbitant for us to be willing to buy more than a small soup each. It was nice soup, but not worth £2.60 for a tiny cup. After that we walked around Covent Garden a bit, with me on a frivolous but ultimately unsuccessful mission to find myself a pair of what Nick calls whore boots.

Just as we’d decided to go to Belgo’s for the fiver lunch, I remembered that I should see if Ken was at home so I could collect the stuff I’d begged my parents to send back here with him when he returned after spending Christmas back home. He was around, so we got a peek at his flat and his room, which was very him, and full of books I’d love to borrow, except for the fact that I have no credibility left after keeping his Fiona Apple album for the past two years.

So after a late lunch at Belgo’s, with Ken coming along for a drink, we finally hit Borders. And the rest, as they say…

11 Albums From Impulse

The finances aren’t looking good. First there were the Christmas ravages. Then there was wining and dining in Glasgow (stop laughing). And then I came back to London, and the Impulse store at Euston Station just had to be having a huge sale.

The results of my weakness:
Pulp: This Is Hardcore 2 disc set with This Is Glastonbury live CD £6.99
My Bloody Valentine: Isn’t Anything £5.99
Money Mark: Push The Button £6.99
The Herbaliser: Very Mercenary £6.99
Pet Shop Boys: Nightlife £6.99
Tortoise: TNT £5.99
William Orbit: Pieces In A Modern Style £5.99
Joyzipper: Joyzipper £5.99
Ella Fitzgerald Sings & Swings £2.99
Best Of Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong £5.99
The Gallery 3 disc set featuring Tall Paul, Sister Bliss and Mark Jones £4.99

Total: WAY too much…and I’m still intending to go back for Olivia Tremor Control’s Dusk At Cubist Castle and a Wagon Christ album. Heeeelp.