Writing 101: Three Songs That Matter To Me.

The latest blog101 challenge is to follow some other blogs and some tags. I’m guessing that others who have taken to following my blog over the last couple of days have done so as part of the same challenge. This might explain why, when I write about how I don’t have a faith, and in fact reject the notion of a faith I end up with two new religious bloggers following me. Ho Hum.

Time to Face The Music.

In the absence of a writing challenge for blogging101, I’m falling back to the writing101 assignment. This calls for me to write about three songs that matter to me. Of course, the issue with a post like this is that it is entirely reliant on the day, mood and recent musical exposure. What did I listen to on my iPod on the way to work this morning? is the sun shining (actually, yes, yes it is) etc.

So I’m going to have to go for today’s picks, with the caveat that it would probably differ in at least one track a week from now.

Song 1: Wish You Were Here – Pink Floyd.

The album, also called ‘Wish You Were Here’ is, without reservation my favourite album. Unfortunately my wife hates Pink Floyd (preferring entirely disposable pop), so I tend to listen to it when I’m on my own.

I love this particular track because it puts me in mind of my time at University. It reminds me of my old house and class mates, and of my early adulthood. It reminds me of when I moved on in my musical tastes from the stuff that the radio was playing.

And when I was able to see David Gilmour live in London some years back, he walked out onto the stage, stood in the spotlight and started to play this, and the hush in the audience was electric.

So this is a song that speaks to me about my memory, about my life.

Song 2: East Easy Rider – Julian Cope.

Another song with strong memories. In the early nineties I spent the Christmas holidays in Morocco with four friends. We had gone primarily to surf, but there was also a local motorbike rental place, and a few times we hired bikes to explore the country. All but one of the bikes were 125cc trail bikes, the other was a 250cc bike with a more laid back chopper styling. One afternoon I had an hour to kill and decided to take this bigger bike for a spin on my own. I headed out of town, following the coast road northwards.  Like many coast roads this was cut into a steep descent down to a rocky shore, so as I rode along I had the Atlantic to my left, and a cliff to my right. Being late afternoon the sun was low in the sky casting my shadow against the cliff.

When I look back at the experience it was one of the points in my life when I was most at peace. I wasn’t wearing a helmet, or protective equipment, but the road was quiet and I wasn’t going particularly quickly, just enjoying the wind in my long hair, the sun on my skin and the experience in general.

As I rode along I began to sing, and this was the song that felt appropriate. It wasn’t long after the album (Peggy Suicide) had been released and I’d been listening to it pretty continuously, so that, combined with the title and the sentiment seemed to fit.

Good Times.

Song 3: Blood Wedding – Oysterband.

I wrote above that I was going to struggle to narrow this whole thing down to three tracks, and I really have. The only one that was obvious was number 1. I ended up picking this because the three ‘go to’ acts that I listen to when I don’t know what to listen to are reflected in this list. And when it came to picking an Oysterband song, there were many I could have chosen, but the one that was played at my wedding made sense.

Our wedding wasn’t anything like the one in the song by the way. No drunken uncles pissing up the walls or anything like that. And it is worth pointing out that it wasn’t our ‘first dance’. That was the far more romantic ‘Thankyou’ by Dido. But after the first dance this was the one that got the party started!

Reflections.

When I was trying to choose the tracks to write about I spent a lot of time scrolling around on my iPod, and it was a timely reminder of how consuming music has changed. I had vinyl records that required you to sit, almost reverentially around a stereo. I had cassettes which were robust in terms of being able to move the playing equipment around, but which relied on fragile tape which I was practised at repairing when it broke or got scrunched. I had CDs which were robust, and had excellent sound quality, but held only one album each. I had an MP3 CD player where you could play MP3 encoded CDs which could hold ten or more albums on a single disc. And then I had an iPod, smaller than a CD case, but holding every single CD I own, as well as downloaded podcasts and audio books. And because of that I could try different songs, test what they meant to me and write the above. It isn’t profound, but my 12 year old self would have thought it was fantastic.

Other Racers and Riders.

There were tens of songs that I would happily have included on a different day, or in a different mood. A short list:

Thankyou – Dido

Put Out The Lights – Oysterband

Mother – Pink Floyd

World Shut Your Mouth – Julian Cope

Reward – Teardrop Explodes

Love Will Tear Us Apart – Either Oysterband or Joy Division version

Duelling Banjos – Any version

Benzadrine – Thea Gilmore

She Sells Sanctuary – The Cult

Pictures of You – The Cure

Victim of Love – Erasure

Tom’s Diner – Suzanne Vega (the original, non-beatbox version, I saw her live in Birmingham, and she just walked out to the microphone and sang it without any accompaniment)

Homophobia – Chumbawamba

Smells Like Teen Spirit – Nirvana or The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain.

And I really could add to this list pretty much all day…

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Serendipity – A Morning Journey Musically Enhanced By An Off Hand Remark.

This morning I was dropping off my daughter at the child minder’s. A couple of the older boys were misbehaving, and the child minder called them ‘the naughty boys’.

I told her this was a tautology, and then had to explain what a tautology is.

Fortunately, when I got back in the car my mind took a different turn, leading me to the related term ‘oxymoron‘.

Many moons ago I was sent on a business letter writing course, and the trainer spent some time probing how much the various trainees knew of the language. What a split infinitive might be, a tautology, oxymoron etc. In each case he asked if anyone knew what they were, and if anyone proferred that they might he asked them to explain the terms to the group. I ended up explaining most of them, but oxymoron was always my favourite. The sentence or term which is internally contradictory, and which I was asked to provide an example of. At the time a Chumbawamba album called ‘Swinging With Raymond’ had just come out, with a track called Oxymoron on it. The example given being ‘Good cop’.

And by the wonder of my iPod I got to listen to the album all the way the work. Not a bad start to my morning…

My iMac Approaches Perfection Asymptotically.

I have written several times about the learning curve of turning my 27″ iMac into the computer that I am happy to use all day every day. Much of this process has revolved around me moving away from using the Mac OS X operating system as much as possible. I run Linux, and, as I’ve noted in other entries I have a very tweaked system.

But there was one thing about the Mac that was a problem from the start, and which I hadn’t been able to sort out. I like to listen to music when I work, but as I share an office, I have to be concious of the impact of the impact of music on others around me.

After installing Linux I found that plugging in headphones cut off the sound from the speakers, just as you would expect, but the sound would resolutely refuse to flow from the headphones.

I have finally found a fix, of sorts. The forum post which explains the solution is here.

Essentially a short Python script is created which resets the headphones configuration and allows sound through the headphones. Apparently it needs re-running every time you re-start the computer, but I can live with this. I already run a couple of scripts when I log into the computer in the morning (to turn on my preferred keyboard layout, launch Dropbox, X Screensaver, Synergy and other useful functions).

So now I can listen to music when I’m at my desk and not disturb others with my choice.

 

Making ScrobbleThis work on Linux Mint.

I have been a long time user of Last.fm. I like the idea of social music, and I have regularly looked at making my iPod report my music listening to the Last.fm site.

This process goes by the name of scrobbling (no, I don’t know why!), and there are a few methods of scrobbling listed on the Rockbox website, but I was particularly interested in finding a command line version of the same as I was thinking about having the scrobbling process run automatically when my iPod was connected (a subject for another day).

I found a simple Python script here:

http://code.google.com/p/scrobblethis/

The download is small, and installation the work of moments. However, it didn’t run straight away. I also needed to do the following:

1) Install the Python module for communicating with Last.fm. On my Mint box this was achieved using:

sudo aptitude install python-pylast

2) Running the command scrobblethis followed by the path to the scrobble log produced an error about a module not being found in the file log.py. A little google foo showed that some users with the same error message had fixed it by changing the import command in log.py from:

import common

to:

import st.common

In my case however the import already read:

import st.common

So I added another line

import common

which seemed to fix things.

3) The last stage was to modify the local configuration file to include my username and password for Last.fm.

Once these things were done the process of uploading the scrobble file was just a matter of the command:

scrobblethis

One advantage of this script (over some of the online scrobblers I have tried) is that the log file is automatically deleted when the upload is complete.