Hey all
Hey everyone,
Gross notes first: the coldsore has healed in pretty much record time (it was already looking much better by Monday, whereas in the past I've still had weeping horrors at the 14 day mark). Unfortunately, my morbid fear of cross-infection has meant that I've been washing my hands much more than usual, which combined with the cold, dry weather to make them crack and bleed in a most horrible fashion.
No matter, I'll moisturize the hell out of them at some point.
Anyways, this week I've been working on some design-ey stuff, as well as the usual reading and whatnot.
Here's something I posted somewhere else on the net that I figured I might as well put here:
>>>
Last week I saw Norma Jean, an American Noisecore Act, play a set at the Carling Academy.
I'm not actually that familiar with Norma Jean (Zao is as far as I go with the Christian Noisecore thing and fair play, they are bloody good), but I did enjoy the show. Especially since, for once, I wasn't actually up the back scribbling notes. Nope, I was in the pit, trying to throw myself far enough into the crowd that I wouldn't get punched in the kidneys by the circle pit behind me.
Here's the thing. As much as their basslines rumbled and their riffing ripped, the beats clattered and the vocalist shrieked, I just didn't get that feeling of being swept up by the show. Sometimes, something felt like it was starting to build, but it never picked up enough power to really sweep me off my feet.
I was, however, reminded of something. As with most Australian kids, I used to spend a lot of time at the beach when I was a child (yep, goth credibility flies out the window, but I care less). So much so that the feeling of being in the waves became imprinted on me, the same way other people might feel about skateboarding or skiing or something.
To draw some sweeping generalisations, other Australians on my fList would probably be able to relate, English people less so. Sure, English kids have probably seen surf off the West Coast of Spain (or even Cornwall), but that feeling wouldn't be hardwired into them, so I'm going to try to explain.
As insane as it sounds, the thing I loved, as a kid, about being in the sea was the way that waves would pick you up and throw you about. Knock you clean off your feet when you least expected it. The sense that you were in the midst of something exponentially more powerful than you, and it didn't care whether you lived or died. You were in the middle of this surging, roaring beast.
I don't know. Maybe I would be explaining this better if I hadn't been up all night re-teaching myself Freehand.
The point is, I don't get that feeling anywhere anymore.
Nowhere, that is, except for very occasionally when I'm at a truly amazing show. It isn't the violence of the mosh-pit or the overload of testosterone that does it, either (not only that, anyway). It's more to do with the sheer force of the sound and the way the rhythms and frequencies capture me. The power and the energy being transmitted that transforms from the sonic to the kinetic and back again. That's what I hunger for.
Maybe it's just me. I don't find other people have the same compulsion to stand in out in the street when there's a gale blowing or a storm rising.
But that is what I want from music: the feeling that I've been hit by a tidal wave of sound, and I'm going to ride it all the way to the shore.
<<<
In other windows I'm reading the Wikipedia entries on PostCyberPunk and Space Opera.
Like I've said before, I love Wikipedia. It's The Idiot's Guide to Pretty Much Anything.
This weekend I have to cover a Psy-Trance party in SE1, which should be interesting. My friends have suggested I get myself a pair of Cargo Pants to maybe blend in a little better, since my usual punk/goth/metal threads wouldn't really cut it.
Strange note: last time I was in the Charity Shop around the corner, I counted no less than three copies of Bridgette Jones' Diary. That's not counting the copy I bought a few months back. How many Chick Lit Fans can there be in one neighbourhood?
Anyways, gotta go.
Over and out.
-J
Gross notes first: the coldsore has healed in pretty much record time (it was already looking much better by Monday, whereas in the past I've still had weeping horrors at the 14 day mark). Unfortunately, my morbid fear of cross-infection has meant that I've been washing my hands much more than usual, which combined with the cold, dry weather to make them crack and bleed in a most horrible fashion.
No matter, I'll moisturize the hell out of them at some point.
Anyways, this week I've been working on some design-ey stuff, as well as the usual reading and whatnot.
Here's something I posted somewhere else on the net that I figured I might as well put here:
>>>
Last week I saw Norma Jean, an American Noisecore Act, play a set at the Carling Academy.
I'm not actually that familiar with Norma Jean (Zao is as far as I go with the Christian Noisecore thing and fair play, they are bloody good), but I did enjoy the show. Especially since, for once, I wasn't actually up the back scribbling notes. Nope, I was in the pit, trying to throw myself far enough into the crowd that I wouldn't get punched in the kidneys by the circle pit behind me.
Here's the thing. As much as their basslines rumbled and their riffing ripped, the beats clattered and the vocalist shrieked, I just didn't get that feeling of being swept up by the show. Sometimes, something felt like it was starting to build, but it never picked up enough power to really sweep me off my feet.
I was, however, reminded of something. As with most Australian kids, I used to spend a lot of time at the beach when I was a child (yep, goth credibility flies out the window, but I care less). So much so that the feeling of being in the waves became imprinted on me, the same way other people might feel about skateboarding or skiing or something.
To draw some sweeping generalisations, other Australians on my fList would probably be able to relate, English people less so. Sure, English kids have probably seen surf off the West Coast of Spain (or even Cornwall), but that feeling wouldn't be hardwired into them, so I'm going to try to explain.
As insane as it sounds, the thing I loved, as a kid, about being in the sea was the way that waves would pick you up and throw you about. Knock you clean off your feet when you least expected it. The sense that you were in the midst of something exponentially more powerful than you, and it didn't care whether you lived or died. You were in the middle of this surging, roaring beast.
I don't know. Maybe I would be explaining this better if I hadn't been up all night re-teaching myself Freehand.
The point is, I don't get that feeling anywhere anymore.
Nowhere, that is, except for very occasionally when I'm at a truly amazing show. It isn't the violence of the mosh-pit or the overload of testosterone that does it, either (not only that, anyway). It's more to do with the sheer force of the sound and the way the rhythms and frequencies capture me. The power and the energy being transmitted that transforms from the sonic to the kinetic and back again. That's what I hunger for.
Maybe it's just me. I don't find other people have the same compulsion to stand in out in the street when there's a gale blowing or a storm rising.
But that is what I want from music: the feeling that I've been hit by a tidal wave of sound, and I'm going to ride it all the way to the shore.
<<<
In other windows I'm reading the Wikipedia entries on PostCyberPunk and Space Opera.
Like I've said before, I love Wikipedia. It's The Idiot's Guide to Pretty Much Anything.
This weekend I have to cover a Psy-Trance party in SE1, which should be interesting. My friends have suggested I get myself a pair of Cargo Pants to maybe blend in a little better, since my usual punk/goth/metal threads wouldn't really cut it.
Strange note: last time I was in the Charity Shop around the corner, I counted no less than three copies of Bridgette Jones' Diary. That's not counting the copy I bought a few months back. How many Chick Lit Fans can there be in one neighbourhood?
Anyways, gotta go.
Over and out.
-J
posted by the.exile at 9:12 am
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