The children, overheard:
It's OK to be jealous, as long as it doesn't ruin your day, or anyone else's
a blog, by Colin Pretorius
The children, overheard:
It's OK to be jealous, as long as it doesn't ruin your day, or anyone else's
The threatened month-end Beast from the East turned out to be a bit more snow falling this week, on and off. We had perhaps 1 or 2 cm overnight on Friday, but it didn't stick around for long.
Oddly enough, I noticed today that there was more unmelted snow on one side of our suburb than the other, which suggests some microclimate effects I'd not been aware of. Sadly we live in the melted snow part. On the upside, maybe that means lower gas bills.
You might call it my own personal way of tracking the onset of global warming, but I've written about snow since we moved the UK a long time ago.
A few snowflakes fell one night in December and melted on hitting the ground. I could've blogged about that; I didn't, and not being bothered to write about half-hearted snowflakes accomplishing nothing is in keeping with tradition too.
Then, apparently, we had more snow last night. Only I didn't get to see it, because I'm battling an epic case of man flu and was fast asleep through the whole thing. There was nothing on the ground this morning, just a thick layer of ice on top of the car.
There are rumours that there'll be more Beasts from the East this year, but until it happens, it's best not to get one's hopes up.
I was browsing a furniture website and every second page I loaded pestered me with a splash screen asking if I wanted to register for their newsletter.
After about the eleventh time I got the same pop-up, and closed it, I gave in. I typed in an email address. Truth be told though, it wasn't really my email address. My name isn't bugger and I have no association with off.com.
I was not expecting the website to come back with:
Welcome back! Looks like you've already signed up for our newsletter with this address.
I started ripping Linton Kwesi Johnson's Tings an' Times last night. The CD has not weathered well, with reported errors on every track, and EAC's been at it for nearly 24 hours, and still has 2 tracks to go. It's an odd-looking gold-coloured disc, and I wonder if that has something to do with it. I started listening to the ripped flacs to see if they'd come out OK, and remarkably, despite all the reported errors and taking hours to copy each track, they sound absolutely fine.
This is one of those CDs I haven't listened to in very many years, and it's a genre I've had absolutely no other interest in, ever. But I bought it in the early 90's while at university, because the opening track, Story, got some air time on the late night shows on Radio 5, and I fell in love with it, especially the plaintive violin solo.
I digress. So what did I learn?
Looking at the liner notes, I saw that the violin was played by Johnny T, who it turns out is an accomplished session musician and composer, and also does voice overs for British TV. Discogs.com says his real name is JT Rawlinson though some think he's John Taylor. His website mentions his pop career started out with The Specials, though Wikipedia doesn't mention him. Youtube suggests he also played with 80s ska band called The Trojans, whom he doesn't mention. They don't have a Wikipedia page, but did well in Japan, and were led by Gaz Mayall, son of 60s blues icon John Mayall, and who after 30 years still runs a regular live music club night in Soho.
I'm not a huge ska fan, but I think I'll be listening to the Trojans for the rest of the night.
(As another odd memory, I always associate the Tings and Times CD with Nandos. As students we'd just discovered Nandos takeaways and we'd trek up Louis Botha Avenue, past an old drive-in restaurant, to what was, I presume, one of the first Nandos restaurants in Joburg. I see the brown-wrapping-paper album cover, similar to the paper bags Nandos was sold in, and I remember myself and friends listening to the CD in my res room while eating half-chickens and chips.)
About 13 and a half years ago, I started ripping my CDs. The majority of them were ripped to mp3s, not a lossless format like flac. I'm not an audiophile or anything and I'd never pretend to be able to hear the difference, but it always bothered me that my digital copies were 'lossy'. Irrational perhaps, but I paid for every bit on that CD dammit, and I want a perfect copy of it.
At the time, I wrote
The downside is that I'll probably want to redo all of this again some time (when terabyte disks come standard with new PCs), but I'll just treat that as another chance to amble down memory lane in the future :-)
Back in 2005, a terabyte of disk space was a fairly expensive proposition, certainly more than I could afford, especially being on one of my glorious 'sabbaticals'. Also, how much more to buy another terabyte's worth of disks to back everything up? Now we're up to multiple terabyte disks, and at the time I'd have hardly believed it would one day be dirt cheap to back up a terabyte's worth of data to online storage, let alone have the bandwidth to get it all up there and back again in in a hurry if you need it. But here we are, so I'm re-ripping all our CDs, to flacs, so my digital copies are as good as they'll ever get.
The main reason I started though, is that I want to reclaim shelf space. I'm ripping the CDs, and soon I'll be bagging all the disks, liners and booklets into storage boxes, and sending the mountain of jewel cases to the dump (assuming the local charity shop which takes almost everything isn't crazy enough to take them).
This time around I've gone with EAC for the ripping and encoding. The old cddb/freedb metadata lookups have been replaced by MusicBrainz, which is an incredibly detailed online database and an archivist's dream but a personal productivity nightmare (crowdsourced and volunteer-driven, nit-picky down to bar codes and catalogue numbers; I have tons of SA and/or rare pressings of CDs which aren't listed on the database. I feel morally obliged to add the details, but when do I find the time? Who can live with this kind of guilt?)
One interesting (or perhaps depressing) fact: when I ripped the CDs the first time around, I put all the mp3s into a "to listen" folder, and only moved an album out of there once I'd listened to it to make sure it sounded OK. Looking back at the "to listen" folder, about half of all the music I owned in 2005, I've never listened to since.
So one might ask why bother at all about making copies of music I never listen to, especially given how much more music I have 13 years later. And it would be a reasonable question, but the answer is simple: there are two kinds of people in this world. Those who'd cart their old CDs off to the charity shop instead of just the jewel cases, and those who just won't. I've long since made peace with being one of the latter. Saying goodbye to the jewel cases will be hard enough. But at least we'll have space for more books.
I've recently started listening to more classical music, especially piano works. I don't think I've bought any classical CDs since the 90s and I'd forgotten the hazards of doing so.
If you've bought a lot of classical music, you probably know what I mean. Sooner or later you'll start talking to an Enthusiast. You may casually declare an intention to acquire Beethoven's 5th Symphony, say. But then will come that glint in the Enthusiast's eye, and you'll get asked the question you hadn't thought needed asking: "which one?" And you sort of know that "the one with violins...?" isn't the kind of answer you ought to be giving.
Thus may you get your gentle introduction to buying classical music. You will learn that one does not simply march into a CD store and buy a copy of Beethoven's 5th. There are all sorts of things to decide along the way. Darned thing's been recorded hundreds of times. Which conductor? Which orchestra? Which performance? And symphonies are easy. If it's a concerto you're after, there's the biggest complication of all - which soloist? Where and when?
And the truth is, performances really can sound very different. It's a personal thing, but choosing a 'good' performance is worth doing. Some of the best versions are going to be completely different listening experiences compared to a half-arsed rendition by the Dullsville Philharmonic on some exotic-sounding budget record label. Although sometimes the LSO recording from '97 might actually be quite crap, and the Dullsville Philharmonic might have been spectacularly on form, and they're an excellent choice assuming you're not too much of a snob.
Which to choose? In the olden days you'd either just not bother and get the cheapest version on the shelves or the one with the most interesting cover but knowing deep down that you're possibly Missing Out, or rely on word of mouth (the Enthusiast will probably have given you a pointers, and at the store something might trigger a memory about von Karajan invariably being a safe bet), or read recommendations from the thick and well-thumbed CD book that was always plonked down somewhere in the classical section of your local CD store, and maybe go through the unholy schlep of listening to a few versions in-store, which was usually such a hassle with queues and surly assistants and broken headphones that Missing Out didn't seem like such a bad option after all.
Now, the world has changed. Now, there's Spotify and YouTube. On the up side, you can actually sample the various recordings and decide which one you like most. On the down side, your choice is no longer just one of a few versions in stock on the shelves, it's closer to dozens. And it's no longer just recordings. You've also got all the live performances, and there are many, many more of them.
Like Rachmaninov's Piano Concertos? You're more spoiled for choice than ever, but if you're prone to getting caught up in things, you can go down a rabbit hole and not come out for months.
We returned recently from a holiday in Sicily. It was our first visit to the Mediterranean. Nicer than the Indian Ocean, assuming you place greater store in being able to see what's floating around you and less store in big waves.
My favourite things about Sicily: the beautiful sea, architecture and history and ice cream for breakfast. OK, not exactly ice cream, but close enough. The owners of our villa were lovely people, and came by almost every morning with granita and pastries from the local bakery. We wondered if they owned the bakery, but since the boys were too fussy to try most of the pastries, we had to eat theirs too and had no reason to ever actually visit the bakery to find out.
Also, I never thought I'd have reason to say something like this, but Sicilian McDonalds is much fresher and nicer than British McDonalds.
Less favourite things: driving on the wrong (that is to say, right) side of the road. Aloes. Antiquated plumbing. Oppressive heat and a lot of poverty and sand getting in everywhere. Also, getting back to the UK and discovering that the majority my photos were tilted slightly to the right. Wtf.
I had a great time though, doing mostly what I'd intended to do: enjoy the sea, sleep a lot, eat lots of salami and cheese on strange bread, washed down by local plonk.
The boys had a great time, too, especially on the beach. It's amusing how they, like most kids today, get sent out lathered in suntan lotion with paranoid parents making sure they're never far away our out of reach in the water. In contrast when we were young our beach holidays involved being let loose after a couple of Coppertone tablets and our parents not for second doubting that we'd emerge from the sea or return up the beach after a couple of hours, alive and intact.
Also, we didn't get dragged off to see cathedrals.
A thoughtful article by Molly Ringwald on revisiting 80's John Hughes movies in light of the #MeToo movement.
How are we meant to feel about art that we both love and oppose? What if we are in the unusual position of having helped create it? Erasing history is a dangerous road when it comes to art - change is essential, but so, too, is remembering the past, in all of its transgression and barbarism, so that we may properly gauge how far we have come, and also how far we still need to go.
You could watch (and enjoy) movies of the 60s and 50s and earlier and see isms and write them off as being from 'a different time', but the 80s wasn't 'a different time' for people my age. It was our contemporary culture. And it wasn't art to us, it wasn't an abstract thing, it was just entertainment. That somehow makes it a bit different. Now, if we judge it, we judge ourselves.
And of course... we can't really imagine what people 30 years hence will be thinking of movies made now.
The basis for arguing for action on climate change is the belief that we have a moral responsibility to people in the future. But this is asking one group of people to make wrenching changes to help a completely different set of people to whom they have no tangible connection. Indeed, this other set of people doesn’t exist. There is no way to know what those hypothetical future people will want.
The premise is that by most models, we'll all be long dead by the time climate change is truly catastrophic for humanity. Our descendants won't know or care who we are. If you could go back 300 years, what would you ask people to sacrifice for us?
I find this interesting. The article isn't saying we shouldn't care, just asking why do we care? As an aside, and perhaps unsurprisingly, our actions ("revealed preference", as economists call it) suggest that we don't care about it as much as we say we do, but to the extent that we do, one possible explanation is that the very abstract notion of 'survival of the species' is actually important to us.
I think one flaw in the question though, is that the premise is weak: we can see climate change affecting the world now, and we can see enough of it to worry that people closer to us (our older selves, children etc) will be affected by it. And even if the consequences were further away, the scary part would be finding out that we've reached a point of no return in our lifetimes. That'd be a lot of guilt to deal with.
I made the mistake of looking it up and seeing in Wikipedia that it was an enormous flop, so much so I thought "oh noes it was such a flop I will be too ashamed to admit that I enjoyed it". But that would be silly, as was the movie, and quite frankly I did enjoy it. Sure it was Ghostbusters meets MIB but not quite as classic in either dimension but we chuckled right through it. Maybe we don't get out enough.
Speaking of Mary Louise Parker, it reminds me we've also in past stretches watched RED and the sequel which I'm presuming was called RED2 (but not going to look it up in case it too was a flop), and I enjoyed them both, too. So there.
The Beast turned out to be beastly, with small doses of Snowmageddon all round. Normally this would be awesome and happiness would abound, but the Friday snow storm after my last blog post meant our planned Saturday trip to Scotland got derailed a little.
Fear of Death By Ice And Blizzards meant we almost didn't go. In the end, after a few hours of monitoring at the Control Center (a dozen browser tabs of weather reports, highway incident maps and traffic cams all the way up the country), and with a little reassurance from other people who said it'd be fine and that we weren't completely insane, we set off on Saturday afternoon. The roads turned out to be fine, we stayed over in a Premier Inn on the way which was a great adventure for the boys, and we finished off the trip on Sunday, treated to snow-covered Pennines with almost nobody else on the roads.
Scotland was stunning. We've been in the UK for 11 years, and this was the first time we'd made it to Scotland. It's fair to say we'd like to go back again and again. As much as other parts of the UK are beautiful, Scotland felt like a place apart. And we only got as far as Argyll. The snow also meant that our loch-side views were extra-special, with snow-covered hills and mountains in the distance.
We returned, had a quiet week, and then had a mini-Beast this weekend, with even more snow. I expect that I'm now done with snow reporting for the year.
If snow reports are what this blog expects, then the slab of freezing Siberian air which has currently laid itself down on these normally Westerly-windswept isles needs reporting.
So far nothing too deep, but it's forecast to be a heavy week.