I haven't posted for quite a while now. I'll try and update you, but there will be a few blanks.
I quit college, and am now at the University of Liverpool reading Physics. It's Freshers' Week, so I am currently dying from a sore throat. It's really been fantastic though.
Let me fill you in on some other stuff first though. First of all, I spent the 18th (Saturday) driving fast cars, which was fantastic. I was driven around at high speed in a Porsche 911 turbo RS before getting behind the wheel of an Aston Martin DB9. Yeah, I did drive around in third, but that thing is amazing. The gizmos are neat, the decor just makes you feel like a child, because its so futuristic that it doesn't look sci-fi. It looks real and just as if it is the best that car design will ever achieve.
I drove in the rain, but I still drove fairly fast, lapping five times in ten minutes, as opposed to the average four. I scored 92/100 on whatever rating system they use.
The next day, I was down in London for Chelsea-Blackpool with a formerly football-ignorant friend. My navigation aside, the afternoon was absolutely amazing. Chelsea won 4-0, with all the goals coming in the first half. On television, this would have made for a dull second half, but seated (infrequently) in the Matthew Harding stand, we were treated to, and participated in, some of the greatest terrace anthems you will ever hear.
And of course, the classic, "Where's my eight-nil you c**ts?"
I think my friend even sang along to one or two of the chants. If you fancy a go, or fancy a listen, check these out: Carefree; Chelsea, Chelsea; In Your Northern Slums; Didier Drogba; Celery; Hello, Hello; F**k 'Em All; Blue Flag; Chelsea, Champions (sung as a call and response by adjacent stands); Chelsea; Come On Chelsea; Dennis Wise; Follow Malouda...
There were more, but we won't go there. There were also a couple of anti-West Ham songs. I don't think we much cared who the opposition were by the end.
The next day, I went to university. Everyone had already moved in, so I'd missed all of the introductions, but my room is opposite the kitchen and sees a lot of traffic. I've met more amazing people in the last five days than I can name. And if they end up reading this blog, hey. :)
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Saturday, 25 September 2010
Monday, 13 September 2010
Education For Leisure
If I could have written earlier, I would, because there's so much that I now have to tell you.
Firstly, I went to college. It isn't bad; that's probably the best that can be said about it. In my Physics lesson, topic of the day seems to be any kind of weaponry. In my first Mathematics class, I was asked to fill in a short form, with a question at the bottom that asked us if there was anything that we thought the teacher ought to know. I wrote:
"DO NOT WORK WELL WITH OTHERS
AS DO NOT SUFFER FOOLS."
His response, that those around me were not fools, was met with a raised eyebrow.
I do not mind them, and I will help and have helped them with their work. If only to stop them going "x minus four all squared... erm... x squared minus four x minus four... why does the back of the book say that's wrong?" Mostly, darlings, because it is.
No, it's all very fine and well and lovely (though incredibly noisy and busy and where can I eat a sandwich in peace?) but it's not for me. It stops me being bored, though I was reminded today of the Carol Ann Duffy poem 'Education for Leisure', which used to be on the GCSE syllabus.
According to this (http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2008/sep/04/gcses.english), that isn't the case any more, it being taken off due to some complaints about killing a goldfish by flushing it down the pan. Oh, and knife crime, but it's the goldfish that really sticks in the throat. Or the U-bend, ba-dum-pshh.
I liked 'Education for Leisure'. It prompted one of my best quotes. In response to the line, There is nothing left to kill, I assessed that the narrator was suffering from a lack of imagination, as, "There is so much more to kill." I was not implying that he should kill everything, just that he should perhaps have investigated the avenues open to him before reaching for the bread knife.
Perhaps he should have spent a little more time with the goldfish. Not having killed a goldfish myself, I know not what stress relief/boredom alleviation it brings, but I can imagine that flushing it away is barely a satisfying way to end its pathetic fishy life. It's over in a flash, blink and you miss the moment where the force of the water snaps its little flexible spine. What's more, there's no body to examine.
If I was going to kill an animal, like, in a planned way, I'd want to gain something from it scientifically. The narrative voice in the poem is evidently one of an idiot. It's someone who considers Shakespeare to be in another language. Well, there's our proof: idiot.
I've covered the Education bit with college; Leisure was mentioned in the musical Blood Brothers, which I watched in London on Friday night. I was blown away. The narrator was incredible, particularly. There was a standing ovation at the end; I wanted to give one in the middle but I thought it best to find out how the play ends.
The realism in the final scene was so strong, with police officers shouting through megaphones from the back of the theatre as if we were part of the events. I laughed so hard; it was technically brilliant.
The narrator looked so pleased with himself, too, at how everything unfolded. He was so subtle, and yet made such an impact. In case you hadn't guessed, five stars.
On Saturday, I went to watch the BBC Last Night of the Proms in Hyde Park. It's a bit of a tradition, though only the third time I've seen it live. Three times is probably enough for my short life.
Bjorn Again weren't my cup of tea (they're an ABBA tribute band), but I warmed myself by dancing along. We also had a nice bit of opera with Kiri Te Kanawa and Jose Carreras.
Moment of the first half was probably seeing the look of inexpressible fury on my brother's face at being denied the presence of John Barrowman, who was playing at The Last Night in Salford. Apparently, a video link to his performance just wasn't good enough. I am now looking to buy him tickets to his tour, despite my meagre wealth. I shall talk to my parents; my mother saw how utterly devastated he was. It was hilarious. I've never seen him so truly angry.
Brian May was really good, so good I forgot to film him. We had to wait for Neil Sedaka, who I didn't realise was pretty-much singlehandedly responsible for all of the cringeworthy songs of the 20th century. His performance started dragging the second he walked onstage.
My brother alleviated boredom by finding and stalking Jon Tickle, of Brainiac fame. And I do mean stalking, he followed him to the toilets. The boy has no shame.
The above video was filmed on my mobile, and rather hastily thrown together. It's Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance, a Last Night staple, and one of my favourites. It was certainly done much better than God Save The Queen this year, which was shambolic. The Czech conductor had taken it upon himself to begin the National ANTHEM (yes, anthem, not lullaby) as quiet as possible.
As a result, nobody in the park knew what was going on. Nor, apparently, did the vision mixer who was supposed to be giving us the lyrics to each tune so that we could sing along.
Another huge insult to this great festival of national spirit was the American flag waved by the soprano who sang 'Rule Brittania'. The only thing good about her (she had awful diction) was that she was wearing a brilliant Vivienne Westwood creation, though I've seen that one ages ago. Maybe something newer, you know?
Try as they might, they can't kill the Last Night though.
Oh, and I also watched Merlin. Thumbs down for Bradley James' bare torso (where has he been? Obviously not the gym) but thumbs up for epic potential. No idea how Merlin's going to make it through this series without thoroughly outing himself. He's too obvious. I do think this will be the last series though; it looks too good for them to want to follow it up with another series.
As a result, nobody in the park knew what was going on. Nor, apparently, did the vision mixer who was supposed to be giving us the lyrics to each tune so that we could sing along.
Another huge insult to this great festival of national spirit was the American flag waved by the soprano who sang 'Rule Brittania'. The only thing good about her (she had awful diction) was that she was wearing a brilliant Vivienne Westwood creation, though I've seen that one ages ago. Maybe something newer, you know?
Try as they might, they can't kill the Last Night though.
Oh, and I also watched Merlin. Thumbs down for Bradley James' bare torso (where has he been? Obviously not the gym) but thumbs up for epic potential. No idea how Merlin's going to make it through this series without thoroughly outing himself. He's too obvious. I do think this will be the last series though; it looks too good for them to want to follow it up with another series.
Friday, 3 September 2010
God is music
On a whim, I have decided to learn to play the violin. Well, it's not exactly on a whim. I wanted to do it when I was younger, but as my application to the Lyceum was to study piano, my mum got pretty annoyed when I announced that, actually, I wanted to learn violin.
After that, I pretty much ignored music. Before, it had been important. At my first school, we would listen to a different piece of classical music every day, and we had to be able to name a vast number of pieces. I listened to Mozart, Holst, Handel, even Beethoven when I wasn't trying to get to sleep.
I mean, it was all music that was designed to send me to sleep, but I did used to stay up and try to listen to it. Thankfully, cassette players (consult the history books if you're unsure what one is) used to finish each side with an enormous clunking noise, which usually woke me up if I was drifting.
Family tradition also dictated that we watch The Last Night of the Proms (on telly, naturally). We watched it religiously, planning ahead, inviting the neighbours around and all the rest of it. I thought it was brilliant.
Music left my life when I was about five or six. I'm not entirely sure why, but it did.
I still haven't got it back, but I'm trying, and it's a gradual process.
The one thing that really saved me, musically, was being forced to learn the recorder at the age of seven. This was at school, and they did it because recorders are cheap. I bought my own, because of the hideous bucket of spit-scented half-chewed recorders that got passed around each week. Words cannot describe how unhygienic that was.
For this reason, I hated the recorder, because, being disorganised, I often forgot my own, nice, wooden recorder, and had to borrow one of the disgusting plastic ones.
Time went on, though, and we were split into sets for music. This appealed to my already-strong notion that I was better than pretty much everyone around me, and when Recorder Club was created, solely for the elite, I was in my element.
I did, however, hate the instrument with a passion, and this was my downfall. I jumped when extra music lessons were offered, and left my recorder-playing days behind me in favour of learning the guitar.
In short, it didn't go well. Despite my disinclination to practise, I was better than everyone else, which was a good start. However, lessons were after school. My mum got a new job and was unable to pick me up after school. That appeared to be that.
I did, later join the school orchestra, though perhaps for all the wrong reasons. I joined because all members of the school orchestra were given a shiny red-and-gold badge saying ORCHESTRA, which was effectively a fast-track to the front of the lunch queue. Although practises were only twice a week, this came in useful on the other three days due to the magic phrase "extra orchestra practise".
To begin with, I joined my old Recorder Club chums, but I quickly came to realise that it wasn't for me. I became the orchestra's one-and-only percussionist, specialising in the glockenspiel. To this day I will get quite annoyed at anyone who calls it a xylophone.
However, that too fell by the wayside when I left primary school. I didn't even listen to music for my first two years at secondary school. I only started to because of homework.
My R.S. teacher (miserable witch- she hated me) told us to listen to the Black Eyed Peas' 'Where is the Love?'. Now, today, it sounds like patronising, meaningless faux-protesting, but I liked it. A lot of people did. It reminded me that music could mean something.
I started to buy CDs. I bought each copy of the Now series, I watched Top of the Pops, I listened to the radio. In the end I got into Green Day, which led me to the Ramones, and the Clash, and the realisation that the best music isn't necessarily what everyone else is listening to.
I started to play the guitar again, then the bass guitar, and the keyboard. I got really into music lessons at school- my teacher loved me to the point where he failed to reprimand me for punching another student in the face.
I elected to study music at GCSE. I watched The History Boys, and discovered The Smiths. I will never forget the day that my mother came home to find me listening to Morrissey. Maybe it was her disapproval that spurred me on, but I've never quite gotten over him.
I realised that not everyone can read music, or can write music for a whole variety of different instruments. I wasn't special, because I wasn't good at any of it, but I wasn't completely useless.
At Cheltenham, I didn't play music, partly because I didn't have time, but also because there was so much emphasis on being good. It's not my way. I'm clever, yes, but I'm not a mathematical prodigy. I can also write creatively, draw an adequate representation of someone's face, speak a multitude of languages to tourist level. I know that there are 88 constellations, and I can tell you the names of a fair few of them, as well as their brightest stars. I can't touch-type, but I know how to run an Excel spreadsheet.
It's not arrogance to say that if there's one thing I do well, it's everything.
So, coming home, I did what I should have done a long time before. I got myself a proper instrument. I've had the violin for about 24 hours now. She's not brilliant, but neither am I. It's something we have in common. I hope I do outgrow her. Then I can take up something else.
I've wasted a few years, but it's not the end of the world. I have relative pitch, which means I don't have to stick stickers on my violin to know where to put my fingers. I can play a major scale without giving anyone a brain haemorrhage. The cat even slept though my playing.
I'm reclaiming music.
After that, I pretty much ignored music. Before, it had been important. At my first school, we would listen to a different piece of classical music every day, and we had to be able to name a vast number of pieces. I listened to Mozart, Holst, Handel, even Beethoven when I wasn't trying to get to sleep.
I mean, it was all music that was designed to send me to sleep, but I did used to stay up and try to listen to it. Thankfully, cassette players (consult the history books if you're unsure what one is) used to finish each side with an enormous clunking noise, which usually woke me up if I was drifting.
Family tradition also dictated that we watch The Last Night of the Proms (on telly, naturally). We watched it religiously, planning ahead, inviting the neighbours around and all the rest of it. I thought it was brilliant.
Music left my life when I was about five or six. I'm not entirely sure why, but it did.
I still haven't got it back, but I'm trying, and it's a gradual process.
The one thing that really saved me, musically, was being forced to learn the recorder at the age of seven. This was at school, and they did it because recorders are cheap. I bought my own, because of the hideous bucket of spit-scented half-chewed recorders that got passed around each week. Words cannot describe how unhygienic that was.
For this reason, I hated the recorder, because, being disorganised, I often forgot my own, nice, wooden recorder, and had to borrow one of the disgusting plastic ones.
Time went on, though, and we were split into sets for music. This appealed to my already-strong notion that I was better than pretty much everyone around me, and when Recorder Club was created, solely for the elite, I was in my element.
I did, however, hate the instrument with a passion, and this was my downfall. I jumped when extra music lessons were offered, and left my recorder-playing days behind me in favour of learning the guitar.
In short, it didn't go well. Despite my disinclination to practise, I was better than everyone else, which was a good start. However, lessons were after school. My mum got a new job and was unable to pick me up after school. That appeared to be that.
I did, later join the school orchestra, though perhaps for all the wrong reasons. I joined because all members of the school orchestra were given a shiny red-and-gold badge saying ORCHESTRA, which was effectively a fast-track to the front of the lunch queue. Although practises were only twice a week, this came in useful on the other three days due to the magic phrase "extra orchestra practise".
To begin with, I joined my old Recorder Club chums, but I quickly came to realise that it wasn't for me. I became the orchestra's one-and-only percussionist, specialising in the glockenspiel. To this day I will get quite annoyed at anyone who calls it a xylophone.
However, that too fell by the wayside when I left primary school. I didn't even listen to music for my first two years at secondary school. I only started to because of homework.
My R.S. teacher (miserable witch- she hated me) told us to listen to the Black Eyed Peas' 'Where is the Love?'. Now, today, it sounds like patronising, meaningless faux-protesting, but I liked it. A lot of people did. It reminded me that music could mean something.
I started to buy CDs. I bought each copy of the Now series, I watched Top of the Pops, I listened to the radio. In the end I got into Green Day, which led me to the Ramones, and the Clash, and the realisation that the best music isn't necessarily what everyone else is listening to.
I started to play the guitar again, then the bass guitar, and the keyboard. I got really into music lessons at school- my teacher loved me to the point where he failed to reprimand me for punching another student in the face.
I elected to study music at GCSE. I watched The History Boys, and discovered The Smiths. I will never forget the day that my mother came home to find me listening to Morrissey. Maybe it was her disapproval that spurred me on, but I've never quite gotten over him.
I realised that not everyone can read music, or can write music for a whole variety of different instruments. I wasn't special, because I wasn't good at any of it, but I wasn't completely useless.
At Cheltenham, I didn't play music, partly because I didn't have time, but also because there was so much emphasis on being good. It's not my way. I'm clever, yes, but I'm not a mathematical prodigy. I can also write creatively, draw an adequate representation of someone's face, speak a multitude of languages to tourist level. I know that there are 88 constellations, and I can tell you the names of a fair few of them, as well as their brightest stars. I can't touch-type, but I know how to run an Excel spreadsheet.
It's not arrogance to say that if there's one thing I do well, it's everything.
So, coming home, I did what I should have done a long time before. I got myself a proper instrument. I've had the violin for about 24 hours now. She's not brilliant, but neither am I. It's something we have in common. I hope I do outgrow her. Then I can take up something else.
I've wasted a few years, but it's not the end of the world. I have relative pitch, which means I don't have to stick stickers on my violin to know where to put my fingers. I can play a major scale without giving anyone a brain haemorrhage. The cat even slept though my playing.
I'm reclaiming music.
Thursday, 26 August 2010
How to drive a car
I had my third driving lesson the other day, my first in over a year. Not that I told my new instructor. She thinks I've had a lot more experience than I have.
She also thinks I have ADHD, owing to the fact I drive at near enough the limit and can't find my reference points because I'm never sat still. I won't deny that I'm hyper, but I'm paying full attention. It just doesn't look it.
If I wasn't paying attention, I wouldn't have been amazing, which I was. That means I get to drive around a different housing estate next week, which should be fun.
No, my instructor's impressed. Evidently terrified, but impressed nonetheless.
Oh, and I killed my first vertebrate. Don't worry, darlings, it was only a pigeon. I accelerated into it. Beautiful, feathers everywhere. It's amazing the mess you can make at 20mph.
I had a bit of a pointless day after that. I fell asleep and woke up to make a risotto, then went to sleep again. This means that I don't have any films or books to review. I could review the music I've been listening to?
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Well, it's beautiful, if a little over-popular. There's a reason for it though. I doubt I'll ever get over it. 5 stars.
Beethoven's 5th, first movement. Again, very popular, but also very good. 5 stars.
Beethoven's 6th, fifth movement. Must have been a bit of a let-down after the 5th, to be honest. 3 stars.
Holst's The Planets, Mars, The Bringer of War. Oh! That start! So good. So very good. You know how I know you'll believe me it's good? It featured in Sherlock, the last episode, where Sherlock and John fight the Golem in the darkened lecture theatre. So dramatic! Ah. 5 stars.
If you think I'm being generous, don't worry. All that is going to stop. Holst's The Planets, Venus, the Bringer of Peace. Boring! Talk about a comedown. It makes me all shivery to think about how awful it is. It's so twinkly and pathetic. Two stars.
Holst's The Planets, Mercury, the Winged Messenger. It works. It's not amazing, but it works; the rising and falling scales are exactly what one would imagine from the flight of Mercury. And what it has in technical qualities, it doesn't exactly lack in art. Four stars.
There; I've tried to review orchestral music, which I'm only listening to so I don't suck at the music rounds on University Challenge. The only times I have ever got points on those is when Moonlight Sonata came up and another time when there were a whole set of questions on David Bowie songs. I did alright in the picture rounds today (watching a repeat I hadn't seen before). There was a set of questions on pictures of Moses (15 points) and another set on poker hands (the full 25).
Don't try telling me I'm a geek. It's not strictly true. I do know things, however, and I want to know more. I want people to know that I know more than most people. I will never apologise, though it pleases me to think I might need to. Mostly because I won't.
She also thinks I have ADHD, owing to the fact I drive at near enough the limit and can't find my reference points because I'm never sat still. I won't deny that I'm hyper, but I'm paying full attention. It just doesn't look it.
If I wasn't paying attention, I wouldn't have been amazing, which I was. That means I get to drive around a different housing estate next week, which should be fun.
No, my instructor's impressed. Evidently terrified, but impressed nonetheless.
Oh, and I killed my first vertebrate. Don't worry, darlings, it was only a pigeon. I accelerated into it. Beautiful, feathers everywhere. It's amazing the mess you can make at 20mph.
I had a bit of a pointless day after that. I fell asleep and woke up to make a risotto, then went to sleep again. This means that I don't have any films or books to review. I could review the music I've been listening to?
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Well, it's beautiful, if a little over-popular. There's a reason for it though. I doubt I'll ever get over it. 5 stars.
Beethoven's 5th, first movement. Again, very popular, but also very good. 5 stars.
Beethoven's 6th, fifth movement. Must have been a bit of a let-down after the 5th, to be honest. 3 stars.
Holst's The Planets, Mars, The Bringer of War. Oh! That start! So good. So very good. You know how I know you'll believe me it's good? It featured in Sherlock, the last episode, where Sherlock and John fight the Golem in the darkened lecture theatre. So dramatic! Ah. 5 stars.
If you think I'm being generous, don't worry. All that is going to stop. Holst's The Planets, Venus, the Bringer of Peace. Boring! Talk about a comedown. It makes me all shivery to think about how awful it is. It's so twinkly and pathetic. Two stars.
Holst's The Planets, Mercury, the Winged Messenger. It works. It's not amazing, but it works; the rising and falling scales are exactly what one would imagine from the flight of Mercury. And what it has in technical qualities, it doesn't exactly lack in art. Four stars.
There; I've tried to review orchestral music, which I'm only listening to so I don't suck at the music rounds on University Challenge. The only times I have ever got points on those is when Moonlight Sonata came up and another time when there were a whole set of questions on David Bowie songs. I did alright in the picture rounds today (watching a repeat I hadn't seen before). There was a set of questions on pictures of Moses (15 points) and another set on poker hands (the full 25).
Don't try telling me I'm a geek. It's not strictly true. I do know things, however, and I want to know more. I want people to know that I know more than most people. I will never apologise, though it pleases me to think I might need to. Mostly because I won't.
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