Somebody asked me recently ‘where’s the bass line?’ (thank you Mrs O)
A salient point – there’s not enough bass lines in the world – especially those big, fat and funky ones.
Here’s one I rustled up in the toolshed – it’s mostly Cubase (with some Albino synth and Moog VST providing the squelchy bits) with a pinch of real harmonica and a smattering of ‘Shannon – Let the music play’. A classic combination best served over a delicately roasted dancefloor.
It’s just a preview and will no doubt get mauled, tweaked and rewritten a Brazillion times…
…Jack Frost has been nibbling at my extremities and my goose is definitely on the chubby side. So I’m thinking that it’s time to slip on my Santa flavoured panties, loiter under the mistletoe and get my eggs well and truly nogged.
Yo ho ho.
Meanwhile back on Earth – I’ve been clambering up the learning curve that is Cubase (a music sequencing program), which hasn’t featured in my life since Maggie Thatcher was bopping around number 10 to Kajagoogoo and Atari were dominating the computer race. I’ve been playing with stolen voice samples and some ‘real instrument’ recording techniques ending in something that sounds vaguely like music. Feel free to leave constructive criticism. Unless it’s bad in which case go to my father’s blog and leave it there…
If, for some strange reason, you want to download it then right click on this link and save.
I didn’t surf today but I did hang some jolly green curtains.
I’ve been blogging for over three years now – the original thinking wasn’t an outlet for my mental dribblings and prolifery of procrastination but somewhere to post my music. At the time I couldn’t find the technological language to create what I wanted. But I finally cracked it – the blog design, the audio enclosure, ftp uploading, a flash-based audio player – the whole shibang.
Of course my decks have been buried in a pile of old curtains and sheep skulls in a trailer at the bottom of the garden for quite some time so much practice may be needed before those heady days of Aphrodisiac can be reachieved (maybe more mud and alcohol too).
The following is a mini mix of old and new done on real turntables with real vinyl by a real human DJ (all beautifully proven by the shocking mix about 2/3 of the way through). It needs to be be played very loud – especially at around 9 minutes and 12 seconds when the bass comes back in. If you’re not dancing at that point then you may as well turn it off…
I will at some point dust off all the old classics and cobble them together for general consumption. If, for some reason you do want to download this mix; right click on this link and save to your computer…
I didn’t surf today. Big storms passing through. Next week looks better…
A few weeks ago I quit my job. Not because I’m lazy, selfish or an idiot but because I was sick of being treated like I was a lazy, selfish idiot. I may be or have been all of those things but as a consumate professional I try to leave those qualities for my friends and family to deal with. After a few days sulking (like only a real man can) I did what any person being twisted by stress and exhaustion should do – I drove west for several hours, parked my car next to the beach and and then threw myself head first into the sea…
I remember hooting with joy as I paddled out into the mediocre waves. Hooting again as I took off on the first mushy peak that came through and continuing to hoot until the sun started to drop into the sea. Oily ribbons of fading sunlight flashed with purple and gold across the water as one by one the surfers drifted ashore. The acrid layers of stress falling away from me like a snake losing its skin. Eventually the horizon was lost and the beach started to fade.
I surfed until the moon was the brightest thing in the sky.
My advice when faced with any sort of responsibility or potentially stressful situation is run away quickly. Then slip on some rubber, grab your plank and throw yourself down the front of some big wet, wobbly things. What could possibly go wrong…?
I didn’t surf today – still surfed out from the rest of the week (did I mention the head high and offshore perfection at Bocaxica on Wednesday? Mmmm…)
I’ve not been a huge fan of competition surfing – excessively talented athletes floundering around in crap waves trying to impress a row of slightly tubby ‘used to be’s’ wedged into deckchairs. But things seem to be changing…
The criteria has shifted axis from ‘how many turns we can cram into this wave?’ to ‘how deep?’, ‘how commited?’, ‘how varied, imaginative and even innovative?’. So things can get pretty interesting to watch.
We pitched up at Supertubos for the quarterfinals of the WCT just as the Atlantic started to throw some evil, dredging barrels at the shore. An average man would have thought twice about walking down the beach, let alone getting in the water but the top surfers on the planet didn’t flinch at paddling out to try and tame these beasts. Unpredictable, shifting peaks with thick lips and seemingly impossible drops created the battlefield for the closing stages of the competition – boards were broken, casualties taken and the following morning in slightly less daunting conditions a new Rip Curl Search champion was crowned.
Portugal embraced these travelling celebrities and their media entourage with amazing enthusiasm. Over 18,000 people walked 4km along the sand to get to the earlier weekend rounds at a tiny beach north of town. Even the somewhat surly local surfers seemed happy to kick back and lend their waves to Kelly and Mick for a few hours…
Watching the circus come through town doesn’t make me want to risk my life in monster waves or compete against others for glory and fame but it does make me realise that there are some truly inspirational people involved in this ’sport’ that I and so many of my friends love. They are pushing the limits of what is possible in surfing and I can’t wait to get in the water and try to push mine too.
Quote of the day from Tango – as Bede Durbridge got eaten by a double overhead monster:
“He’s rubbish.”
I remembered how to surf this week. Better than working for a cranky old hag. Yeah baby yeah…
2009 is drawing to an end – the clouds keep rolling in and the chlorophyll is slowly draining from the deciduous trees across the valley. It’s been a strange summer – a constant battle with ‘awkward’ clients that ended somewhat sourly and abruptly at 4.25 on a Wednesday afternoon. I feel my summer has been wasted – our own house has been put on hold and my wave count this year has been dismal – the only saving grace would have been financial gain. Unfortunately ‘withheld payments’ have dulled that particular silver lining…
Fortunately my heroine has been here to hold my aching head and sit with me in dark corners. She has the perfect knack of when to talk and when to not – so very much more important than some gaudy gold taps or cramming a giant widescreen TV into a tiny cottage (although DP may disagree with that!).
I didn’t surf today but the WCT circus is in Peniche right now and I seem to have some free time…
* lyrics by Billy Bragg – ‘to have and have not’ from the album ‘Life’s a riot with spy vs spy’ circa 1983. Surfboard decoration by El Duderinjo circa 2009.
You can read as many namby-pamby spiritualistic Dao-esque publications as you like, telling you to ‘live in the moment’ or ‘become one with you inner self’ but you’ll never reach enlightenment. You can ‘Om’ yourself into a state of nausea or stick crystals up your Chakras till the holy cows are mooing at the door and the path to Nirvana will still have a ’sorry – we’re closed’ sign on it.
The answer is simple: A drop of summer rain on a plum leaf. Go on – look closer…
Click here and look at it really big. If you find this place the universe will unfold and light and life will combine to create sheer perfection.
If this doesn’t work then get really drunk on cheap lager and eat a large Doner Kebab with extra chillies.
I didn’t surf today.
(Maybe I bunked off and went for a sneaky one the other day. Then again – maybe I didn’t…)
A light blinked in the dead of night and the worldwideweb became a squirming mass of html tables and font tags brimming with vital information, allegedly instantaneous communication and vast amounts of exasperation. People spent their time filling databases with facts and figures, sharing beige tinted documents and badly drawn diagrams.
Then came the blog – a beautiful world of cascading style sheets, a living framework to enhance and transport the creative word to the people of planet Earth…
Bloggers were instinctive, individual, almost radical. They thought, they mused and they pondered – brightening the lives of others.
From nowhere sprung Facebook and Twitter. Youtube and Icanhascheezeburger. Mindless distractions sucking the life force from the previously agile minds of the people. The mediocrity virus was spawned and within moments the internet was overflowing with warm, squirty cheese…
I don’t care what you had for breakfast and your cat isn’t funny.
Don’t press publish. Don’t hit the ‘quick post’ button. Don’t Tweet me or Facebook my Mum. Please.
I didn’t surf today. In case you got this far down the page…
To capture above amazing image of water-dwelling insect creating fantastic wave/interference pattern across surface tension of nearby lagoon take the following steps…
invite slightly hilarious Canadian friend of Tango to stay for a night
take above guest to meet loverly local friends
eat dinner, drink wine, laugh a lot and conclude evening with one too many brandies (“I’m not proud of myself” says Tango)
wake up feeling slightly befuddled
take large macro lens, attach to big posh camera and point it at lagoon, then press big buttony thing repeatedly until above photo is accidentally taken
post on internet and go ‘oooh’
Here endeth the lesson. Gnite…
I didn’t surf today. Although I did surf on Tuesday and it was good.
...proudly sporting a ridiculous mini-mal I marched boldly from the surf shop. Stopping briefly to hand my spectacles to a passer-by I stumbled blindly into the sea...
