Monday, July 25, 2005

Downside on the Up

I feel slightly apprehensive in writing this post, especially in light of the previous one, as it's necessary to gauge the right tone. After the downward focus of my previous musings, it would be wrong for me to turn around and pretend that that was just a blip: me having a bit of a 'bad day' if you will. The truth is I'm probably not OK, not feeling all that together, but that certainly doesn't mean I'll be doing anything stupid. I apologise if I gave that impression. So whilst I currently find myself in a dark place, it's worth noting that there is always light in dark places, even if it's the mearest flicker. Thus, without getting all Bono/Amnesty International, it's always necessary to keep a sense of hope. The only problem I have is that whilst I have hope, it's usually outweighed by pessimism on a ratio of about 1:3 against.

What do I accredit this to? Well, I can't help but thinking that part of it comes from the music I listen to, and the outlook I've developed from that since a young age. You see, I've always been a follower of the indie/ rock scene, and always especially been a fan of the epic, string-drencehed, mournful ballad of which The Verve used to be such fine purveyours. Furthermore though, I've always truly valued songs, and artists, that are genuine, or honest if you like. One of the reasons I hold R.E.M. in such high esteem is you can always tell the genuine emotion behind both Michael's lyrics and delivery, and the fact that the music adds to the sense of melancholy inherent in them. It's the same with the music of Neil Finn and Crowded House, you can tell the honesty of the emotion in the songs being played. However, the main problem I've always had with the music scene I so adore is the drunken, sing-along crowd who, in my (perhaps rather shallow?) opinion, appear to have little connection to the sentiments being portrayed. I mean come on! How can a townie possibly relate to something like Losing my Religion, Falls to Climb or Snow Patrol's Run? As a result, I always try to understand where these songs 'come' from, and attempt to relate to that either via hyperthetical situations or real-life experiences. I suppose at the end of the day, I truly value honesty, and things that are genuine, and so want myself to be reflected in the music, and art, I consume. Perhaps this is the part of me that needs to regenrate? But in doing so, how can I possibly keep a hold of the things that I so value? Or perhaps I just need to stop wearing 'being a fan' on my sleeve so much?

Sorry, this has gone all 'Me Me Me' again, hasn't it? I do apologise, dear reader. Thank you for returning to this humble page and sticking with it. I also apolgise that the updates haven't been that often recently. The truth is I've been downsizing: moving out of Cyber Control to the smaller, yet more portable, Cyber Tombs of Telos. In short, I've bought a laptop and am in the process of transferring files across. This then explains why the Brighton photos are yet to be uploaded; the necessary programme is still on the old computer, you see! Fear not though, once things have fully changed over, I'll be sexing this place up better than a US Presidential Intellegence document. You see, it's not acid, it's a wicked sense of humour!

I watched a terrible film at the weekend: Van Wilder. I don't know why I watched it, I think it was the only thing on television at the time, and the lure of Tara Reid was also helpful. I think she's something of a modern day Jenny Agutter: a guarantee of an opportunity for a male to admire the female form, therefore momentarily filling the holes in his own life. Anyways, the film was crap. Sure, they made Ms. Reid's 'boyfriend' utterly dispicable, but the other guy was just as bigger loser as well! He was your typical 'Hey, I'm an easy going, slacker-type who just gets drunk and makes silly quips all the time' character. I mean, come on! What's wrong with a bit of depth to these characters? Rather than the usual 'Boy meets Girl' scenario, why not add in a few emotional scars to pick at? Or maybe some death? Or maybe something off-the-wall, such as the occult, ghosts or doppelgangers? You see, that's what makes Donnie Darko.

Finally, there's much in the world of Who that needs addressing at present but, unfortunately, now is not the time. What with new episode titles announced, new cast members and, most importantly, new press photos showing David Tennant wearng what appears to be one of my suit jackets! However, this week could be rather hectic, what with work and social engagements over the weekend, so these will have to wait a little. In the words of a sadly-forgotten classic from the Britpop era, this weekend "we'll go out tonight and breathe, a little deeper", and in such instances there's always hope; hope for the opportunity to laugh, to forget, and maybe to meet someone special. However, there's still always the doubt that comes with this, and you know how big that can be.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Damaged Goods

It has come to my attention over the last week or so that I am not quite myself, with this being brought to a head this evening when one of my housemates expressed that they thought I've been this way for a long time. Truth is, I'd sensed it myself as well: only yesterday I was chatting with a good friend I hadn't seen for a long time and it felt as though, well, I didn't have anything to say. I feel as though people have stories to tell, conversations to indulge in, concerning all manor of things, whereas I seem to be unable to be drawn into these situations. The responses I make are really dull, but conversly when I try to make a conversation its always about something really dull. In short, it seems lately as though if I can't make some strange quip in relation to a film, tv show or band, then I can't hold a conversation at all. Thus, if it's not the Daleks then I'm not good. Otherwise, if people are talking about something serious (i.e. politics), I seem to have a nasty knack of saying something completely abstract that subsequently destroys the conversation.

What worries me the most is that one day I'm gonna turn around and realise that, contray to the old adage that "No man is an island", I've done a bloody good job in becoming one. I'll be the guy who lives on his own and gets the occasional visitor from x and their partner, who politely inform you about the wonderful time(s) they're having, and when asked the question of "So what have you been up to?", I'll just reply with, "Oh you know. This and that", which actually means nothing because I'm so isolated the only company I have is four walls and myself.

More alarming to me is the way that I can't seem to be able to strike up a conversation with anyone. If people come up to me and start talking then I'm fine. Overtly pleasent, I suspect. But for me to go and talk to someone? Woah, that's another cup of tea! I just don't know what to say to people. With blokes, I know you're gonna get some quippy put-down as a reply and I'm not quick witted enough to think of anything suitable as a retort. Couple in the fact that my sense of humour doesn't revolve around being mysoginistic and talking about sex, and we hit upon part of the problem. Whereas with women? Don't even go there. You see, I've come to the realistaion that, after many years of attempting to enter in the dating game, I'm really not attractive to the opposite sex. Granted, I mean, who really wants to date a weedy Whovian with mild obssesive-compulsive disorder? This then hits upon other problems I have if, and only if, I meet someone I like: I come across as rather intense. This is due to the fact that I rationalise things far too much and if I meet someone I like, I don't see the point in all this Dancing around the Houses. I just tend to think that life is short enough, and the moments that people share can be rather brief, so what's the point in wasting these moments? Now, this could be a direct result of the problems I've had with dating in the past, namely that every girl I seem to be interested in goes off with someone else. Hence, another reason why I think I'm dull. Moreover, if, and again if, I do manage to talk to someone I can come across as rather smug and cheesy. This is because I don't know what to say to keep conversations going.

Consequently, we move on to another reason why I'm feeling pretty low at the moment: all I seem to think about is myself. I've lost contact with so many people, probably due to being miserable, and spent so much time with myself as of late that the only person I really think about is me. Now by admission, I'm not a great fan of my own company, so you can imagine the downward spirals that entail. I keep thinking, no hoping, that this will end; that someone will smash into my life and wake me up. Show me a few things I've never seen before, help me feel a few things I've not felt before, or for a long time at least, and at the end of the day, help me feel a bit more human. The way things are at the present, I can only see one end result: a big wooden box in about 40 years or so, and if that's all that's ahead, then why not simply accelerate the process? After all, I may regenrate into something better?

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Don't Go Back to Athens

Crikey, I can't believe it's been over a week since I last mused on my inconsequential existance here. The truth is that so much has happened over the past week,I haven't had the time to update this site. As a result, things are gonna get a bit sketchy, as I'll have to cover things that happened after others as it'll take any age for me to manipulate all the photographs regarding my trip to Brighton. Consequently, we'll have to rewind to Sunday, instead of Saturday, and tackle the appearance of R.E.M. at the Millenium Stadium instead.

I always thought Sunday was gonna be a good day. After all, its not every day you get to see your favourite band play live, and it's always extra-special when its your first time, if you pardon the expression. Anyways, I was a little surprised to be awaken by my friends at 0930 in the morning. However, it's a marked improvement on the time achieved by Savage, when he appeared on my doorstep at 0805 a couple of weeks ago. I think its something to do with the air in Devon, making people get up early. Either that or they're really eager to get out of Devon (or perhaps that should be see Yours Truly?). Now, its never a sensible idea to have ice cream for breakfast because, although thoroughly pleasant, it isn't really that substantial. Couple that with the fact that it freezes your brain easily, and it became evident I was going to be rather silly for a couple of hours, as proven by the little aside into why the ice cream company parted company with Mr. Whippy as a mascot. It was, for those interested, for thoroughly sinister reasons...

After an interesting experience in a Toby Carvery, reading Nietszche whilst drinking cider in a Welsh pub overlooking a Safeway, I eventually found myself heading towards the beginning of the concert and inside the Millenium Stadium. Unfortuantely, I couldn't resist telling people that this was where Dalek was filmed, and I secretly harboured desires to start running around shouting 'Exterminate' at people. I'm such a child. Eventually things got down to business as, after enduring one support act that consisted of a guy and an acoustic guitar (not that impressive and a bit depressing in all honesty), iDLEWiLD finally made their way on to the stage. Now, I was a little disappointed about this since I thought they'd be on just before R.E.M., but in hindsight I was glad they weren't. The problem was that they just looked bloody nervous, especially Roddy. Now I know Roddy is one of the shy, retiring, poetic types, but where was the guy who threw himself around Cardiff Uni Great Hall eighteen months ago? Aside from that, they were bloody good, playing an almost 'Greatest Hits' set with Little Discourage and American English obvious highlights and a welcome cover of Sweet Home Alabama featuring Mike Mills on keyboards.

By the time Messers Stipe and Company appeared on stage, I was getting even more jumpy than usual. Granted, I'd already managed to scare certain members of the party with my over-enthusiastic enjoyment of iDLEWiLD, so it was with great vigour that I jumped to my feet during the first few chords of Bad Day. This joy was only scuppered when told to 'Sit down' by the old couple behind me as they couldn't see. OK, they probably hadn't paid £40 a ticket to watch my Tom Baker wig jig up and down for two hours, but neither had I paid £40 to sit and clap politely at the Greatest Band in the World. After all, R.E.M are a rock band, playing a rock concert, so isn't it just right to want to rock? Its almost there in the title of the event, isn't it?

An obvious highlight was the fact they played Strange Currencies, my absolute fave track that they'd only played once throughout the whole tour, and couple that with an extra poignant Everybody Hurts in light of the London attacks and a beautifully intimate Nightswimming and you had a supreme gig all round. It's been previously identified by journalists that one of the great things about R.E.M., and Michael especially, is their ability to be both ballsy and vulnerable at the same time, and this was apitomised in Stipe's energetic performance, causing the stripe of make-up across his eyes to crack and run across his face. OK, if appearing in a Welsh rugby shirt and celebrating Brains SA was playing to certain members of the crowd ever-so-slightly, it only goes to show how good the band really are: willing to push the right buttons to acknowledge little cultural differences. So whilst Michael played the rock-star, his voice showed why I view him as the best singer around, largely due to the fact he doesn't just sing tracks like they are on the record. Instead, his voice seems to be capable of ascending to new levels in the live performance that only add to the emotion of the songs. Back this up with Buck and Mills' wonderful backing and you had something bordering on the sublime. The set list in full was:

Bad Day
What's the Frequency, Kenneth?
The One I Love
Drive
The Outsiders
Animal
Strange Currencies
Wanderlust
So Fast, So Numb
Leaving New York
Everbody Hurts
Electron Blue
Electrolite
(Unknown Track)
Final Straw
Orange Crush
Walk Unafraid
Losing My Religion

Immitation of Life
The Great Beyond
Exhuming McCarthy
Nightswimming
DJ
Man On the Moon

Right, just gotta find a minidisc to recreate the live experience!

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Am I an Alien? Or am I Simon Le Bon?

I've been thinking a lot recently about the concept of identity, and the ways in which people construct themselves. After all, we all do it, from the clothes we wear to the words we speak and the manner in which we speak them! These thoughts have been brewing in Deep Thought for a while now, finally coming to a head on the way to Sainsburys this morning. I don't know why my brain works so well when in motion, but it just seems to be that way. Perhaps I should do my job in one of those chairs they use to test the potential ability of astronauts with. You know the ones, like they try to kill Bond with in Moonraker? It ceratinly might make the day go a bit quicker, whilst also being a potentially interesting experiment into relativity at the same time.

Anyways, my thoughts with respect to identity largely stemed from my percieved inability to connect with people, especially people of my own age. I don't know why, but when people seem to be having some form of crisis I'm usually stood there going "Oh for goodness sake, it's only (insert event here). Hardly the end of the world, is it?" Thus, whilst others seem able to offer supportive words or gestures, I feel awkward and unsure of what to do. There's a great moment that captures this well in the Hitchhikers movie when, as Ford and Arthur are about to be thrown out of the Vogon airlock, Ford turns to Arthur and asks "Would you like a hug?!" as though he's not really sure how humans work in situations such as this. What do I put this ineptitude down to? Well, I mainly put it down to my interests and the people I admire. It's always been observed that one of the best things about Tom Baker's performance as the Doctor was his ability to speak lines of grave or macabre importance with a huge grin on his face. As a result, this is something I've always found interesting: playing with the expectations people have and subverting 'norms'. As a result, more often than not, I do say things that are ultra-serious or profound with a huge grin on my face, to see how people take them. An action which is made all the more unnerving for those involved since I don't tend to smile that often.

Moreover, my 'alien' qualities are evident in other areas of my 'self' as well: for instance, I remind myself of my 'Cybermen' qualities when approaching people. I don't tend to show that much emotion about very often, as shown in the above example, but also in regard to such things as 'hugging'. Like Ford, I never seem to know the times when this is an exceptable action and so tend not to endulge in the action, thus reinforcing my 'Cyberself' since I tend to shy away from physical interactions with people. If you couple that with the fact that I'm hideously logical, boiling anything down to the most rational way to go about things, it's not suprising I admire the Cybermen so much. Additionally, I think I can be quite alien in the amount of acid I seem to have running through my veins. Surely it's not healthy for someone to have such a cynical, scathing opinion on everything? Especially at this age? It was often remarked that I could be unnecessarily harsh about people/events whilst at school, but aren't you meant to lose that?

Yet, despite all of my 'alien' qualities, there's still a part of me that yearns to be Simon Le Bon, singing songs about commiting ladies to celuloid whilst riding yachts and drinking silly-coloured cocktails. All of this whilst being exceptionally well dressed and surrounded by mysterious women. This is also the part of me that loves being hideously flamboyant and eccentric (much like The Doctor actually!), whilst revelling in the cheesiness of things and knowing that your being hideously cheesy at the same time. I also admire the fact that amidst all this cheesy decadance, Duran Duran manage to construct themselves as 'serious' musicians that spend ages fretting over chord changes and lyrics. Or do I admire Simon Le Bon for the simple fact that he manages to project the image that he's a hit with the ladies? Or perhaps, at the end of the day, I do just really like Duran Duran's music?

As a result, what does this say about my opinion of myself? A once human, probable New Romantic, Time Lord who has sacrificed his body parts and emotions for cybernetics and cold logic, and that has a strange hybrid of acidic blood which boils over occasionally? All of this whilst being smartly presented and a bit of a pretensious arse?

Alternatively, is this all in my own delusional head? Have I really got the wrong impression of myself, and the way I construct myself to others? Does the fact that I seem to spend so much time thinking about this make me hideously self-obssesed? Damn post-structuralism and autoethnography! They give me too much to think about, as I seem to apply these principles to everything and everyone, thus leading me to my big question: if we live in a world of discourses, where all is culturally constructed, how can we do anything that is genuine?

Countdown:

Days left at work: 70
Days until The Christmas Invasion: 5 months and 19 days (approx.)
Days until Jessica Alba in a catsuit: 17

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Music Plus One

It's frustrating when time just seems to disappear and you never get the things done that you wanted to. It's also frustrating when you spend most of your time dithering around trying to remember what the hell it was you wanted to do. Furthermore, it's frustrating when your sister telephones you in the middle of Cardiff with "important news", only to gloat that she's off to see Oasis tomorrow and that you could have come but, oh yes, you're working. However, none of this probably comes close to the sheer tragicness of trying to organize your shopping with the time(s) the attractive cashier is likely to be working in Sainsbury's. Who says us SF fans have nothing to think about and have slight stalker-esque character traits, eh? Last time I was in there, her name badge said 'Gareth'. I really should have made a joke of this, but then again I'd have probably come across as a bit of an idiot. Anyways, if that is her name, it's a bit of a turn-off.

In the absence of much Who to think about, my attentions have turned back towards music, and it was much to my surprise when the other nite I finally started to make some inroads into my Dire Straits songbook. Sharp intake of breath I know. Why, dear sentient beings, do I own a Dire Straits book? Well, a) it's for Brothers in Arms, which I view as one of my favourite albums of all-time, and b) it's pretty complicated! One of the main problems I have with buying indie bands music books is that they're all pretty standard three or four chord runarounds with the occasional nice twist. The exceptions to this rule being the Bluetones and Idlewild, who seem to like to do things a bit differently. I'm yet to assess bands like Razorlight, Kasabian etc on these criterion, but watching them play live it seems they're more about attitude and ambiance than wierd timings and playing in odd keys. Yes, you could probably level exactly the same criticism at the Killers, but the bands formely mentioned haven't written anything as glorious as Mr Brightside or All These Things That I've Done.

On the subject of new bands though, I've stumbled across a couple of oddities. Firstly, there's My Chemical Romance, who seem, by their videos and press, to be the kind of band that I should have gotten over whilst I was in puberty. However, I really like the singles by them and am considering their album. It could well be a case of Evanesence and Linkin Park all over again, as I always get "Dude, what are you? A sixteen-year old Goth?" when confessing to liking these bands. Granted, they'll probably never ascend to the heights of the House, or write a Distant Sun in that respect, but they're pretty scathing about contemporary society.

Secondly though, there's Hard-Fi. A band that, by their very look, should be the type of band that I instantly despise. Let's look at the evidence: they're from chav-centric Staines, their current single sounds like the kind of riff you dismisively bash out when having your first jam with a band, and their singer looks like a gimp whilst the rest of them are just wallpaper. Yet for some reason I like the track and I don't really know why. There's a certain simplicity about the whole thing, both musically and lyrically, that makes you think that maybe you're making your own life a little too hard on purpose. Bloody hell, I bet they never thought when they wrote the track it'd be used by somebody to assess their stance on life. Or am I just subscribing to the chav mentality?!? Ugh, the very thought makes my skin crawl! Whichever train of thought wins, whoever decided to include JD Sports in the video is just asking for trouble.

So, as I sit here desperatly trying to make my mind up what to vote for in the DWM magazine poll, I'm left with the following questions: Did I really enjoy Boom Town more than The Parting of the Ways, Dalek and The Doctor Dances? Do Father's Day and The Unquiet Dead deserve to be so low in the rankings? Who was better as a co-star: Simon Pegg or Shaun Dingwall? Were the Reapers better than the Daleks? And what did I really make of the trailers?

Decisions, decisions. Good job I've Senor Corgan's new opus to help pass the time...