syntaxfree – Page 47 – the liminal edition

Pardon His Fiddlesticks

Alec spends a lot more time with my mum than I do these days, since he’s often over at my house during the day to use my laptop for his job-searching. They have lunch, trade recipes, go shopping for stuff for his flat, and recently fell asleep together on the couch (DIFFERENT COUCHES OBVIOUSLY, LET ME MAKE THIS CLEAR) while watching the Pope’s funeral.

While spending all this time with my mum, Alec naturally tries to moderate the ways in which he expresses himself. Although it would theoretically be possible to explain to my family that in Ireland, an outburst of “FECK!” is actually quite acceptable even in polite company, and really isn’t just a weird Irish way of saying “FUCK!”, after asking Alec to move continents for me I feel somewhat hard-pressed to demand that he also lecture my parents on Irish vernacular swearing.

But after so much restraint, I guess sometimes it’s hard for him to snap back into normal mode even when it’s just him and me. After lunch at his flat on Sunday, he went into the kitchen to pour us the coffee he’d made, only to realize he’d forgotten to plug the coffee-maker in when he switched it on – and yelled “FIDDLESTICKS!”

The rest of the afternoon was difficult for us, as he spent most of it rocking and mewling in a corner.

Flea Love

How much do I love flea markets? Let me count the ways:

CD: The Discovery Of A World Inside The Moone (Apples In Stereo), $4
CD: Curtains (Tindersticks), $4
DVD: American Splendor, $6
Pink button earrings, $4
Beige top with two guys who look like extras from MacGyver stencilled on it in prussian blue, $5
Black top with rough-cut neck and armholes, small mustard yellow rose print, and lace all the way round the waist, $2
Beige oblongish bag with criss-crossing lines of khaki leather and eggshell blue sequins, $2
Dirty brown (in colour, not state) Jap-style bag with 3 cartoony guys with Afros, and “I LOVE AFRO” on the back, $3

I Love Afro

There was a guy asleep on the floor at one of the stalls, which is never a good idea if you’re at a flea market and have funny friends. (Click on the photo to view a full-size version.)

“Buy T-shirt & take loser home for free!”

I Have Never

Like most Londoners, I’ve rollerbladed, tossed frisbees, and played football in Hyde Park. On my 21st birthday, I was led across London blindfolded by my friends, who then brought me into the middle of Hyde Park and instructed me to count to 20, untie myself and find them in their various hiding places. I have not, however, played ultraviolet tag in Hyde Park, and though I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to before, I now feel the poorer for it.

I liked this observation in Londonist’s writeup:

Maybe this was Tomoko’s plan; the invitation to play games in Hyde Park was not a ruse designed to create art, but the art was a ruse to get a bunch of po-faced “sophisticated, refined urbanites” to come and play games in Hyde Park.

Call Me Matlock

Today at work, I learned how to use the binding machine. I am glad to add it to my repertoire of office machinery, having mastered the fax, scanner and photocopier several weeks ago. Oh, and the giant stapler.

Truly, there are some things I am learning in these challenging 6 months on the cutting edge of legal practice that they don’t teach you in five years of law school.

I’m learning the paper shredder tomorrow.

Words About Noise

I liked the introduction to Bryan Berge’s review of Tom Smith/Sightings’ Gardens Of War:

“Noise defies language. In the everyday sense, noise is the category of sound that cannot be explained (“what is that noise?”) or doesn’t merit explanation (background noise). Thus noise is marked primarily in its relation to language, or more precisely in that lack of relation. In a technical sense, noise lacks the typical harmonic patterns that mark most resonant sounds produced by this wide world o’ vibrating objects. This too is a refusal of language, that most important of organized sounds in our acoustic lives. And finally, noise music attempts to obliterate our critical faculties, to send reason scurrying to a tranquil wrinkle deep in the brain stem while caustic sound ravages the ears. At its best, noise overwhelms, leaving the listener a battered, quivering mass of flesh who gulps for air and squeaks like an animal but who certainly does not smugly put down the headphones and deliver a discourse on the effectiveness of the brutal crunching sound in the fourth minute of the third track.

But here I go anyway.”

Also:

“Whenever I was tempted to form a thought during Gardens of War – “this song sounds like a particularly frightening Sunburned Hand of Man session overrun by homicidal robots” or “is that fuzz guitar playing some sort of insect melodyï¿½” – a grating din arrived to punish me. We’re talking some serious negative reinforcement here. So I never strived for language and conscious analysis again – all that you see here was written after the album had seeped into my skin after so many listens that I could relive it without the threat of another storm cloud breaking in my ears.

Only guttural grunts and surreal words-in-isolation issued from my brain and mouth while the record played.

As such, I did a spot-on impersonation of Tom Smith’s vocals.”

There’s also a bit about being forced into a corner by a big angry man with a genre fetish, but it doesn’t work well when excerpted.

Used To Be A Raver

At Jacob’s place on Saturday, we had to pick bits of paper out of a box, and then play a song which matched the theme written on the paper. Not having expected this little twist on his instructions to “bring obscure music”, I’d just brought a few CDs and some mp3s in a thumbdrive, but was happy enough with what I managed.

For the theme “Fat Bottomed Girls”, I played Vybz Kartel’s Picture You And Me (“in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G”), feeling that this contained similar key elements of juvenile misogyny.

Alec then drew “Start The Panic”, and astutely observed that such a theme could pretty much apply to anything in his musical collection. However, we decided to spare everyone else the undeniable fight-or-flight impulse that a choice selection from The Chieftains In China would have provoked, so I played Knifehandchop’s Used To Be A Raver instead.

Other than that we drank, and ate Twisties, and played mahjong on the floor, and Jacob ate his cat.

Jacob gettin’ Ozzy wit’ it.

Mahjong tiles and alcohol.

I was joking about the cat. Witness intact Schopie with loving owner.

In Memoriam, Pope John Paul II

I took this photograph in Krakow, nearly a year ago.

Today it makes me think of the man who gave much to their nation, and the world.

In my prayers

Goodbye, Holy Father. Please pray for all of us.

I Summon Up The Power Of Banana Clan

I never thought I’d say this about a Heineken party but Wednesday night was the best clubbing I’ve had since returning from England (August 2003).

Koflow and a local beatboxer set a blistering pace from early on with an excellent set. I’d gone with fairly low expectations of Herbaliser, not having bothered to listen to anything by them since 2001, when I bought and was underwhelmed by Very Mercenary, but how wrong I was. They started with Witness, which I never got sick of despite its ubiquity, and did a well-paced, diverse and consistently danceable set. Not the best I’ve ever seen but pretty much on par with a good Xen night, and that’s good enough for me. They also managed one of those rare “How did I not realize how great this was to dance to before??!” epiphanies for me with Get It Together, which never used to be one of my stand-out tracks on Ill Communication.

I loved the venue (Timberlux Centre) too. I’ve had great times at small beautiful Cocco Latte but miss having space to go a bit mental if the music so moves me. Cavernous converted-_________ venues encourage uninhibited and shambolic dancing, which is infinitely more fun than the self-conscious controlled dancing which is socially necessary in smaller spaces. Also, you don’t even need good music in order to enjoy your uninhibited shambolic dancing. I still have fond memories of prancing around wildly with Nick and Vish at a freezing New Year’s Eve outdoor party in Glasgow – to Azzido Da Bass.

It’s amusing how many of the same strangers I keep seeing at the musical events I go to. “That Malay guy with prominent cheekbones was at RNDM,” I said to Alec. “Yeah, that petite Indian girl was there too,” he said. I don’t recognise many Chinese faces except Joe’s though, we generally all look same to me. I’d like to start talking to all the familiar faces at some point.

Pussy Cat Pussy Cat Where Have You Been?

The London Lesbian & Gay Film Festival starts today, and here’s what you’re missing if you’re somewhere else:

The Fall Of Communism As Seen In Gay Pornography
How To Make Lesbian Porn: Instruction With Video Clips
Annie Sprinkle’s Amazing World Of Orgasm (featuring, among others, “a midwife who experienced orgasms through childbirth”)

Intriguing.

Teenage Hissyfit In A Public Station

The University of Pennsylvania has got Sonic Youth to headline its Spring Fling concert, with Cat Power opening, and get this – its students aren’t happy about it.

“Who are they?” College freshman Elizabeth Jefferson asked. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Wharton junior Lloyd Thomas said he feels “disappointed,” especially considering what some other schools have performing this year.

For example, Snoop Dogg will be headlining Cornell’s Slope Day concert and Ben Folds will be playing at Brown’s Spring Weekend.

“I think we deserve a bigger name,” Thomas said.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I guess anyone who thinks Snoop Dogg or Ben Folds are “bigger names” than Sonic Youth really does deserve to get them. Hell, why not shoot for the moon and try for Ashlee Simpson?

Other selected quotes from students’ comments posted in response to the articles:

“I am very disappointed at the choice of band. Yea, Sonic Youth was a precursor to the grunge-era but grunge died when Courtney shot Kurt. I understand SPEC is trying to be “different” but I guess they don’t realize that although “bad” is different from “good”, people won’t respect that decision. I am not wasting $20 to see a washed-up grunge band that didn’t even make a lasting impact. I compare them to Ace-of-Base, an afterthought, almost a novelty act.”

“If they really wanted to get a good non hip-hop band what’s wrong with Jimmy Eat World, Saves the Day, The Format, & Taking Back Sunday????”

“nirvana is very influential but just because they are, and sonic youth came out before them and they are relatively the same genre, you can’t say that sonic youth is as influential as nirvana. that’s blasphemy!”

Okay, I’ve decided. I’m laughing. Hysterically.

Yes, I know what you’re all thinking. What a fucking snob. The thing is, I have no problem with people not knowing who Sonic Youth are. But I really do fart in the general direction of anyone who would whine about a band simply because they’ve never heard of them, or spend time broadcasting those whinings on the Internet when they could just type the band’s name into Google (or, like, download some albums – what are they in college for if not to abuse broadband filesharing?) and work on reducing that ignorance. I must say, for a “washed-up” “grunge” “afterthought” with no “lasting impact”, 712000 search results isn’t bad. And I’m even sure that only 711990 of those results are from this blog.