You know how it's like when you're in an over-crowded shop with too many people?
In Leeds I like to walk by the window of Heaves & Curtis to just marvel at the latest in shirts and the odd Italian suit. Sometimes I walk through Victoria Quarter and pop by Vivienne Westwood or one of the traditional (and way too expensive for a student, read: "me") classic gentlemen's shops. I must admit I have left a decent amount of money for silk ties at Tie Rack in the UK, Robbinson's in Singapore and good old Marks & Spencer's. I think it's kind of a genetically inherited "want a decent tie-collection" passed down through my father's line (though I might have taken it a bit further than anyone before me).
Even H&M on Kirkgate in Leeds springs to mind as a cool clothing shop. Scandinavian clothing in the first place, it has become kind of a mainstay up here. Fashionists never used to look to H&M for quality, but rather for the quantitative aspects of their wardrobe. And if they were not on a particular budget they would easily skip it for something more exclusive. While that might have changed a little bit over the years (with Madonna launching her own H&M collection etc.), the big display windows on Leeds main promenade just down from Harvey Nic's, Zara and oposite M&S makes this old Scandinavian company look suspiciously more up-street than how I used to remember it. Not that Leeds is that much "up-street" in itself, but they've put in the effort.
I walked into one of the local H&Ms here today and I got bored after a few seconds. No clear division between the styles and a bit too generic. Yes, I know it's a smaller city, but with creative front-windows like you can find in Leeds (amongst other places), you are geared up to look for stuff before you enter the shop. It's all there, well presented in the window. When you go inside, suits don't mix with Rock'n Roll, you do that job yourself. The clothes and styles promotes themselves because of the layout of the shop. Here the lines were more blurred. I walked a quick stroll through the shop. I even saw some items I own from the UK, but didn't think they looked exciting here. (To their defense I probably have to point out that there are bigger and better shops in town.)
Then I walked into a suit shop. The staff there are trained to say the same blooming lines when you enter. I have trained myself to reply the same boring rejection of the offer to help me find what I'm looking for. Never mind I seldom do know what I'm looking for, I know what it is when I see it. Never mind I'm out of college not long ago and don't have any money right now. I was just curious anyway. I walked to the end of the shop where the main suit collections hang. I looked at all these glorious items and I thought: "my goodness, how bored I am!"
You know how it's like when you're in an over-crowded shop with too many people? As much as you'd like to kick them all out, maybe they just make it more exciting being there. If it's one dude folding shirts at the entrance and you looking around, the sense of living in a vibrant community is dead. At the heart of it all I dress like I do because of me, and people can take it or leave it. I never really ask for advice and I never care what others think and I never did. But maybe much of the point of dressing up a personality is lost if there's no sense of community to present a personality in. It's never quiet in a fashion shop in Singapore and although it's sometimes more noise and stress than you'd like, today I really missed it.
I'm really sorry about all the tedious reflections. The bottom line is: "I walked into a fashion shop today and got mad!" I'm usually not like that. Maybe it's reflecting the fact that I'm not sure where to go and what to do next and I don't want to be trapped in one country, but are trying to look to the world. Maybe a small fashion shop in a mall in Norway was threatening me with the same spirit as the ghosts in the basement (read: in the mind) when we were kids, saying: "now you'll stay here forever and there'll be no more adventures! HAHAHA!!" I've heard (not really though) that the best way to conquer threats like that is the old tactic of burning down the evil's premisses! Maybe I should burn it all down! "HAHA back at ya'!" Or maybe I should just stay away from there for a while! Like really, that does sound healthy!
Frankly, I could probably have chosen a more busy part of town to judge from. It's not like there's no life here! I might just be missing a new adventure to get occupied with.
Funny thing. I have always loved my country a lot, and I will until death! I was never any keen on leaving, but now I'm not too keen on moving back for too long neither. I guess big moments of your life changes you forever, even fashion-shops in Leeds might (yes, I see the artistic, socioeconomic and other contradictions and I don't care). Even if everything is the same when you return from your adventures, you yourself will never be the same again.
To balance this madness; I had a great "cake-lunch" with my friend Hilde on one of the nicer hotels in town with a view to the sunlight from up the river. Later I walked into a big music gear shop with an in-house studio. They had stacks of amazing studio speakers, instruments and general yum-yum! They even had two classic Universal Audio pre-amps casually stuffed away on a shelf. I know from my retail experience that you don't stock more than you think you'll sell. If they think keeping more than one 1000 GBP pre-amp in their shop at anyone time is a good idea, maybe I'm over-looking some of the life that's going on here. Maybe this city has grown in ways I haven't seen while I've been gone. I'm hoping on it, cause it all looked damn nice in the mid-winter light earlier today!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Surreal sleigh rides in Singapore, hotness rated in Starbucks and theories on meat.
Singapore, December 2009
I remember the first time I walked out of the airport. The sun had gone down, but the air was still as hot as always. Strong smells of spices, distant sea and high humidity flung in my face in a blend I had never felt before. I quite enjoyed it and I sensed the excitement of a new chapter of my life. I was moving to Singapore! Setting foot outside Europe for the very first time. Attending a College I had never seen. Never mind the fact that I was following an airport-worker who would take me to the Air France’s service staff because I had left my wallet with my phone, international students card, international drivers licence, Master-card and Visa-card in the seat pocket in front of me on the gigantic jumbo jet. I wasn’t bothered. I was happy. Nothing was gonna tip my mood. And quite right; great air-crew, effective air-port staff and, voilá, I received my belongings a moment later from a member of Changi Airport’s technical staff. I never-ever do blunders like that! But you’d have to shoot me with a 24 pound cannon to break the tide; freedom and exploration here I come!
I was returning again and looked at the rebuilding of the immigrations section of the airport with the curiosity, references and memories of a local. I was greeted by two of my smiling friends, Vienna Mei and Math Faust. We took the MRT-tram and at Tana Merah Interchange the same smells and humidity I had felt the first time pressed against my face again when we left the train. But this time was different. It was expected and I greeted it a warm welcome! I had waited for this moment.
I wasn’t travelling in and out on frequent basis any more. Neither could I queue up in the “locals” queue at the immigrations, since I no longer had a green card. When the winter is extra long, summer is extra welcome. When summer is long, skiers get excited over the very first flake of snow in the air. I hadn’t been back for over two years and intended to enjoy every smell of cassia, jungle and tropical sea that could make its blessed way to my nose!
*
Math and I went to Jurong Point to get food. We talked about going to their house first with my luggage, but after all the travelling I was simply too hungry. I needed food desperately. Meat to be specific! After a major logistical operation of getting a table, at the fully set food court, we went to order. My beef curry disappeared fast and I had to get another plate of chicken rice. Two meals and I was starting to feel more alive again.
We took a taxi home through the long streets packed with well kept housing blocks from Singapore’s Housing Development Board. You may think I’m a geek, but I loved seeing them again. I was back in my second home of Nations. Norway first, then here!
I had left a cold and dark Europe, enveloping itself in long nights and Christmas preparations. It was to become one of the coldest early winters recorded over the last hundred years. And here I was on a tropical island in Asia Pacific. On the stereo the taxi driver had tuned in to a show that was playing big-band Christmas music. How surreal it was! Less than a day earlier I was in cold and dark Europe, and the music would have fit like a hand in a glove. Then I travelled half way around the world to a climate so different, and I’m greeted by Diana Krall singing she wants to go sleigh-riding. –Subsequently followed by the likes of Count Basie. My ears tells me that I’m in Chicago or NYC on a snowy December night, my eyes and nose tells me that I’m on a highly urbanized tropical island. It is such a bizarre feeling that maybe you have to be a musician to understand it, or simply be a citizen of both these worlds at the same time; East and West.
Later when Wei comes home she informs me that it’s my turn to do the dishes, wash and hang the laundry, and clean the toilet and all the floors. Such a staggering amount of work that the only thing I can make out of the order is that she’s trying in her own way to say: “hello, it’s nice to see you again!” –or at least, that’s what I bargain on.
*
Breakfast. I need breakfast! Hungry Europeans used to dark bread and heavy meat needs more than rice and noodles. As much as I love both rice and noodles I crave bread for breakfast as almost always. I had found a Starbucks one of the first days and kept coming back for my daily infusion of bagels and sandwiches accompanied by sparkling water and cappuccinos.
As I had the previous mornings I line up again to order a big package of various yum-yum I need to get through the first hours of the day. The list is extensive to say the least. –At least by East Asian standards... maybe even by European standards. A cute little Malay girl in her late teens or early twenties, who’s got a big smile with shiny braces on, serves me in the counter that day. My order is placed and while various items are roasted, heated and manufactured I hunt for a table with a deep comfortable chair and a view. When it is found I return to the counter to wait for my items. The smiley little lady looks curious and since she’s got nothing else to do she strikes up a conversation.
“Soooo, are you working around here?”
“No, I’m not. I used to study here some years ago. But now I am back for my friends’ wedding actually.”
(Polite smile follows as to pass the conversation back to her in an informal way and to acknowledge her nice conversational initiative.)
“Soooo, are you single?”
(What the heck!?)
“What? Yes, I am!”
(Short answer and stern formal face-expression as to let the topic drop as fast as possible!)
(Big smile, direct eyes.)
“You’re hot!”
(I’m what!?)
“Well, thank you!”
(Looking at the air to spot for Santa Clause or third world war…)
(Waiting…)
(Silence…)
(She keeps smiling.)
“Pling!”
(Signal bell on the toaster.)
Thank God, my food is finished in the roaster and she gets other things to do. I take the tray, say a polite and pseudo-militant “thank you” while she keeps smiling like the sun and returns the courtesy.
I just wanted breakfast, no wife.
*
The taxi driver asks what I’m working with. I tell him I just finished my Masters Degree in Music Production. He says I look very young! I laugh, thank him, say I’m thirty and wait for the reaction. “Wuah? You look younger lah!” He says he thinks I look like I’m in my early twenties, maybe twenty-five at the most. He goes on saying that many Western men gets an “old” look fast. He doesn’t know that we, the same Western men, are sometimes amazed of how young some Asian men can look for their age. The taxi driver philosophies over why many Western men looks so old without realizing that he is calibrating “normal” by men that are not from the West. The conversation amuses me. I think he hasn’t driven around on many skiers, mountaineers and surfers, but rather over worked business-men. He says he is pretty sure the cold and climate of Europe is an important factor. I say I’m a Norwegian skier and mountain-guide and that my skin never looks as fresh and clean as when I’m cruising down hills at high speed in -10°C on a frequent basis. We have to find another solution. I propose my theory that stress and worries is an important factor. After all, many Western men in this community are business-men and working professionals for over-seas companies. We agree that is one of several likely possibilities. Then he says he thinks that eating a lot of meat makes men look older. If they ate more veggies and less animals they would most certainly look younger! I see a number of religious items on his dashboard and knowing what they are I know that he probably subscribe to a more vegetarian diet than my Nordic one. I’m a blonde blood-type zero, primeval dude and the obvious just has to be said: “I eat a lot of meat.” “Oh!? No, really…?” “Yes!” (Laughter). Some confusion seems to follow and we go silent for a while. It seems I didn’t fit into the theories and some thought is required to solve this riddle! We are approaching our target within visual range so any further conversation will have to wait for another time. I pay, thank him for the journey and we say goodbye.
I remember the first time I walked out of the airport. The sun had gone down, but the air was still as hot as always. Strong smells of spices, distant sea and high humidity flung in my face in a blend I had never felt before. I quite enjoyed it and I sensed the excitement of a new chapter of my life. I was moving to Singapore! Setting foot outside Europe for the very first time. Attending a College I had never seen. Never mind the fact that I was following an airport-worker who would take me to the Air France’s service staff because I had left my wallet with my phone, international students card, international drivers licence, Master-card and Visa-card in the seat pocket in front of me on the gigantic jumbo jet. I wasn’t bothered. I was happy. Nothing was gonna tip my mood. And quite right; great air-crew, effective air-port staff and, voilá, I received my belongings a moment later from a member of Changi Airport’s technical staff. I never-ever do blunders like that! But you’d have to shoot me with a 24 pound cannon to break the tide; freedom and exploration here I come!
I was returning again and looked at the rebuilding of the immigrations section of the airport with the curiosity, references and memories of a local. I was greeted by two of my smiling friends, Vienna Mei and Math Faust. We took the MRT-tram and at Tana Merah Interchange the same smells and humidity I had felt the first time pressed against my face again when we left the train. But this time was different. It was expected and I greeted it a warm welcome! I had waited for this moment.
I wasn’t travelling in and out on frequent basis any more. Neither could I queue up in the “locals” queue at the immigrations, since I no longer had a green card. When the winter is extra long, summer is extra welcome. When summer is long, skiers get excited over the very first flake of snow in the air. I hadn’t been back for over two years and intended to enjoy every smell of cassia, jungle and tropical sea that could make its blessed way to my nose!
*
Math and I went to Jurong Point to get food. We talked about going to their house first with my luggage, but after all the travelling I was simply too hungry. I needed food desperately. Meat to be specific! After a major logistical operation of getting a table, at the fully set food court, we went to order. My beef curry disappeared fast and I had to get another plate of chicken rice. Two meals and I was starting to feel more alive again.
We took a taxi home through the long streets packed with well kept housing blocks from Singapore’s Housing Development Board. You may think I’m a geek, but I loved seeing them again. I was back in my second home of Nations. Norway first, then here!
I had left a cold and dark Europe, enveloping itself in long nights and Christmas preparations. It was to become one of the coldest early winters recorded over the last hundred years. And here I was on a tropical island in Asia Pacific. On the stereo the taxi driver had tuned in to a show that was playing big-band Christmas music. How surreal it was! Less than a day earlier I was in cold and dark Europe, and the music would have fit like a hand in a glove. Then I travelled half way around the world to a climate so different, and I’m greeted by Diana Krall singing she wants to go sleigh-riding. –Subsequently followed by the likes of Count Basie. My ears tells me that I’m in Chicago or NYC on a snowy December night, my eyes and nose tells me that I’m on a highly urbanized tropical island. It is such a bizarre feeling that maybe you have to be a musician to understand it, or simply be a citizen of both these worlds at the same time; East and West.
Later when Wei comes home she informs me that it’s my turn to do the dishes, wash and hang the laundry, and clean the toilet and all the floors. Such a staggering amount of work that the only thing I can make out of the order is that she’s trying in her own way to say: “hello, it’s nice to see you again!” –or at least, that’s what I bargain on.
*
Breakfast. I need breakfast! Hungry Europeans used to dark bread and heavy meat needs more than rice and noodles. As much as I love both rice and noodles I crave bread for breakfast as almost always. I had found a Starbucks one of the first days and kept coming back for my daily infusion of bagels and sandwiches accompanied by sparkling water and cappuccinos.
As I had the previous mornings I line up again to order a big package of various yum-yum I need to get through the first hours of the day. The list is extensive to say the least. –At least by East Asian standards... maybe even by European standards. A cute little Malay girl in her late teens or early twenties, who’s got a big smile with shiny braces on, serves me in the counter that day. My order is placed and while various items are roasted, heated and manufactured I hunt for a table with a deep comfortable chair and a view. When it is found I return to the counter to wait for my items. The smiley little lady looks curious and since she’s got nothing else to do she strikes up a conversation.
“Soooo, are you working around here?”
“No, I’m not. I used to study here some years ago. But now I am back for my friends’ wedding actually.”
(Polite smile follows as to pass the conversation back to her in an informal way and to acknowledge her nice conversational initiative.)
“Soooo, are you single?”
(What the heck!?)
“What? Yes, I am!”
(Short answer and stern formal face-expression as to let the topic drop as fast as possible!)
(Big smile, direct eyes.)
“You’re hot!”
(I’m what!?)
“Well, thank you!”
(Looking at the air to spot for Santa Clause or third world war…)
(Waiting…)
(Silence…)
(She keeps smiling.)
“Pling!”
(Signal bell on the toaster.)
Thank God, my food is finished in the roaster and she gets other things to do. I take the tray, say a polite and pseudo-militant “thank you” while she keeps smiling like the sun and returns the courtesy.
I just wanted breakfast, no wife.
*
The taxi driver asks what I’m working with. I tell him I just finished my Masters Degree in Music Production. He says I look very young! I laugh, thank him, say I’m thirty and wait for the reaction. “Wuah? You look younger lah!” He says he thinks I look like I’m in my early twenties, maybe twenty-five at the most. He goes on saying that many Western men gets an “old” look fast. He doesn’t know that we, the same Western men, are sometimes amazed of how young some Asian men can look for their age. The taxi driver philosophies over why many Western men looks so old without realizing that he is calibrating “normal” by men that are not from the West. The conversation amuses me. I think he hasn’t driven around on many skiers, mountaineers and surfers, but rather over worked business-men. He says he is pretty sure the cold and climate of Europe is an important factor. I say I’m a Norwegian skier and mountain-guide and that my skin never looks as fresh and clean as when I’m cruising down hills at high speed in -10°C on a frequent basis. We have to find another solution. I propose my theory that stress and worries is an important factor. After all, many Western men in this community are business-men and working professionals for over-seas companies. We agree that is one of several likely possibilities. Then he says he thinks that eating a lot of meat makes men look older. If they ate more veggies and less animals they would most certainly look younger! I see a number of religious items on his dashboard and knowing what they are I know that he probably subscribe to a more vegetarian diet than my Nordic one. I’m a blonde blood-type zero, primeval dude and the obvious just has to be said: “I eat a lot of meat.” “Oh!? No, really…?” “Yes!” (Laughter). Some confusion seems to follow and we go silent for a while. It seems I didn’t fit into the theories and some thought is required to solve this riddle! We are approaching our target within visual range so any further conversation will have to wait for another time. I pay, thank him for the journey and we say goodbye.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
D’Angleo and inspiration
Damn, it has been so boring to sing for many years! It used to be my biggest joy! They’d hush on me in high school classes, I’d be singing while walking, cycling, sleeping… (almost) and I’d practice a couple of hours every day. I was trying to aim somewhere, but being young and subject to available situations where you can use it it just fell apart. I didn’t know where to go with it. I got so fed up and furious that I didn’t sing a note for several years. If someone suggested that I’d sing something they’d better be ready for fight. I was angry!
Time flies and anger wears away. I’ve been singing a few Rock’n Roll things over the last few years with more or less luck. It’s just been for my own tracks and I sing on all my own guide tracks. But that’s pretty much it.
Today I bought D’Angleo’s “Brown Sugar” and the beat of the title track just didn’t leave my head for hours. I wanted to sing! I remember CeCe Winans doing a cover of Andraé Crouch’s “Take Me Back” and when I got the record I just couldn’t stop singing. I climb, I mountainbike, I ski, I do all sorts of stuff, but following CeCe through some of those phrases seriously gave a similar rush as high speed gives. D’Angelo was doing stuff I couldn’t figure out what was. I had to sing it back time and time again. I typed down the lyrics and started to sing. First mumbling till the words stick, then carefully starting to turn up the volume and at last doing the phrasings. It was dead fun and I’ve been going for a good while now, and I have a lot more work to do on it tomorrow when I can sing much louder without being kicked out of the house for disturbing the neighbours.
Anyway… Rare occasion, and it was fun again! Amen!
Time flies and anger wears away. I’ve been singing a few Rock’n Roll things over the last few years with more or less luck. It’s just been for my own tracks and I sing on all my own guide tracks. But that’s pretty much it.
Today I bought D’Angleo’s “Brown Sugar” and the beat of the title track just didn’t leave my head for hours. I wanted to sing! I remember CeCe Winans doing a cover of Andraé Crouch’s “Take Me Back” and when I got the record I just couldn’t stop singing. I climb, I mountainbike, I ski, I do all sorts of stuff, but following CeCe through some of those phrases seriously gave a similar rush as high speed gives. D’Angelo was doing stuff I couldn’t figure out what was. I had to sing it back time and time again. I typed down the lyrics and started to sing. First mumbling till the words stick, then carefully starting to turn up the volume and at last doing the phrasings. It was dead fun and I’ve been going for a good while now, and I have a lot more work to do on it tomorrow when I can sing much louder without being kicked out of the house for disturbing the neighbours.
Anyway… Rare occasion, and it was fun again! Amen!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Mission completed, so far...
9th of October 2009
I've had this feeling of an ending coming up for a few weeks. An ending to the world as I have known it over the last few years. My studies are drawing to a close.
I just came from the Viva Voce (the defence/ interrogation/ questioning) for my final Masters Project. It was great! I love talking and I had really been looking forward to people trying to verbally trap me in a corner for days. The active word in that sentence is "trying." It's like the King of Norway said when he stopped smoking some years ago; he was really disappointed that it was so easy, cause he had been hoping for a proper fight! Calling my Viva Voce a "fight" would be exaggerating, but you have to stay sharp. And it was fun!
I walked down in the entrance hall of Leeds College of Music. I looked at the security guard and all the people walking in and out, and realized again that I was walking out. Not just right that moment, and I'll be walking through those doors many times again. But you get what I mean. I can't just call the college up and book a studio any more or check out whatever microphones I need, which is a crying shame. But hey, it's good too. Cause you'll get trapped in false security if you'll stay somewhere for the convenience.
I walked down by my old hotel the other day. It was two whole years since I checked in there for the first time. And tomorrow, on my birthday it will be two years since I signed the contract for the flat I live in.
Leeds looks less familiar now. It's not routine walking down the streets anymore, it's more a privilege and exploration than it has been in a long time. It feels like I'm back to the excitement of October 2007. Full circle, just coming towards the end and not the beginning. I think a lot of things lost some of their significance too. The balcony platter for instance. It is made from untreated wood and it annoys me how gray it gets in the city centre air. I wipe the dust off when I have guests, but it never looks like healthy fresh wood. Some time ago I bought platter oil, but haven't had time to apply it yet. Now it doesn't matter any more. I just finished the Masters Degree I wanted. In a few weeks I'll be an official Music Production Masters graduate.
I walked into my flat, didn't take my shoes off and kept the leather document bag hanging over my shoulder. I stood there in the middle of the living room and looked at my bookshelves and it was almost like I was talking with the books. Both those I have read, those I have not and those I have just partly read and browsed in. Many big ideas behind the purchases and yet life is too short to do it all. Or is it? When I came out of my year in folk high school 12 years ago I said that if I could do anything over again it was getting involved with more stuff. More conversations, more activities, more music, more... There is always more to do, there are always more unread books in my bookshelf. But right now I'm quite content, I just finished the education I wanted since I was in my teens. Curiously enough, one day before my 30th birthday. I finished the MA while I was still in my 20's. While my friends started studying I was still playing in the woods on mountain bikes, trekking the mountains and working with getting other people "out there" and with selling them the right gear. Thank God for His humor, one day before a landmark time-shift I'm done.
Swiftly leaving Singapore 2 years ago, headache at first over getting accustomed to the new studios I've been using here, finding musicians; and the unread books looked back at me and didn't seem at all sad. Corinne Bailey Rae started playing in my head: "...all these things happen... all these all these things happen... for a reason..." Yes, they do.
I think I should go and take some pictures of that old half-fallen down Abbey by the rugby court today. I've been looking forward to it for two years.
I've had this feeling of an ending coming up for a few weeks. An ending to the world as I have known it over the last few years. My studies are drawing to a close.
I just came from the Viva Voce (the defence/ interrogation/ questioning) for my final Masters Project. It was great! I love talking and I had really been looking forward to people trying to verbally trap me in a corner for days. The active word in that sentence is "trying." It's like the King of Norway said when he stopped smoking some years ago; he was really disappointed that it was so easy, cause he had been hoping for a proper fight! Calling my Viva Voce a "fight" would be exaggerating, but you have to stay sharp. And it was fun!
I walked down in the entrance hall of Leeds College of Music. I looked at the security guard and all the people walking in and out, and realized again that I was walking out. Not just right that moment, and I'll be walking through those doors many times again. But you get what I mean. I can't just call the college up and book a studio any more or check out whatever microphones I need, which is a crying shame. But hey, it's good too. Cause you'll get trapped in false security if you'll stay somewhere for the convenience.
I walked down by my old hotel the other day. It was two whole years since I checked in there for the first time. And tomorrow, on my birthday it will be two years since I signed the contract for the flat I live in.
Leeds looks less familiar now. It's not routine walking down the streets anymore, it's more a privilege and exploration than it has been in a long time. It feels like I'm back to the excitement of October 2007. Full circle, just coming towards the end and not the beginning. I think a lot of things lost some of their significance too. The balcony platter for instance. It is made from untreated wood and it annoys me how gray it gets in the city centre air. I wipe the dust off when I have guests, but it never looks like healthy fresh wood. Some time ago I bought platter oil, but haven't had time to apply it yet. Now it doesn't matter any more. I just finished the Masters Degree I wanted. In a few weeks I'll be an official Music Production Masters graduate.
I walked into my flat, didn't take my shoes off and kept the leather document bag hanging over my shoulder. I stood there in the middle of the living room and looked at my bookshelves and it was almost like I was talking with the books. Both those I have read, those I have not and those I have just partly read and browsed in. Many big ideas behind the purchases and yet life is too short to do it all. Or is it? When I came out of my year in folk high school 12 years ago I said that if I could do anything over again it was getting involved with more stuff. More conversations, more activities, more music, more... There is always more to do, there are always more unread books in my bookshelf. But right now I'm quite content, I just finished the education I wanted since I was in my teens. Curiously enough, one day before my 30th birthday. I finished the MA while I was still in my 20's. While my friends started studying I was still playing in the woods on mountain bikes, trekking the mountains and working with getting other people "out there" and with selling them the right gear. Thank God for His humor, one day before a landmark time-shift I'm done.
Swiftly leaving Singapore 2 years ago, headache at first over getting accustomed to the new studios I've been using here, finding musicians; and the unread books looked back at me and didn't seem at all sad. Corinne Bailey Rae started playing in my head: "...all these things happen... all these all these things happen... for a reason..." Yes, they do.
I think I should go and take some pictures of that old half-fallen down Abbey by the rugby court today. I've been looking forward to it for two years.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
A time traveler's reflection on acoustic/ electric transformers
I took a step back and looked at the beauty of it. It was like going back in the days. Apart from the Ocatvas that I have become quickly familiar with, it was old school. Or as old school as e604s can allow. I remember when they came on the marked and how impressed I was on my first job with them.
One SM 57 over and one under, plus an Octava on top of the snare. One D112, and you can guess where it went. And to crown the beauty; two of the new C 451s. Yeah! I took a step back and smiled. SM 57s, e604s and C 451s, a selection of my all-time favorites. Nothing has changed for 10 years, eh? And if you substitute the e604s with something else, maybe nothing has changed for 30 years. It was a display of nice timelessness and it made me happy. New skins and an amazing sounding snare, no wonder I was looking forward to try it out!
We listened through the backing and went for the first take. I called Ali into the controlroom afterwards.
Me: "I feel I'm missing something, and I'm not sure what it is. I think it may be too bright and I'm lacking some mids. You wanna try out the other over-heads?"
Ali: "Yeah, go for it!"
So we substituted the 451s for a pair of Octavas and had a go. The track went on tape well and we sat down and listened through a section as an A/B-test. AKG-Octava-AKG. There was no doubt with any of us, the verdict was: Octava. It is always a good comfort having the approval of the performer, who knows the instrument better than anyone else. The 451s were simply too bright, and the Octavas had the midrange we felt was lacking in the AKGs. The 451s would most probably have given me a mix-down nightmare. I recently had a similar problem with a pair of Schoeps. I'd go for Octava any day now.
The old favorites were packed down. -Couldn't be world-champions in everything I guess. It sounded a lot better after the change. But it didn't look as beautiful...
One SM 57 over and one under, plus an Octava on top of the snare. One D112, and you can guess where it went. And to crown the beauty; two of the new C 451s. Yeah! I took a step back and smiled. SM 57s, e604s and C 451s, a selection of my all-time favorites. Nothing has changed for 10 years, eh? And if you substitute the e604s with something else, maybe nothing has changed for 30 years. It was a display of nice timelessness and it made me happy. New skins and an amazing sounding snare, no wonder I was looking forward to try it out!
We listened through the backing and went for the first take. I called Ali into the controlroom afterwards.
Me: "I feel I'm missing something, and I'm not sure what it is. I think it may be too bright and I'm lacking some mids. You wanna try out the other over-heads?"
Ali: "Yeah, go for it!"
So we substituted the 451s for a pair of Octavas and had a go. The track went on tape well and we sat down and listened through a section as an A/B-test. AKG-Octava-AKG. There was no doubt with any of us, the verdict was: Octava. It is always a good comfort having the approval of the performer, who knows the instrument better than anyone else. The 451s were simply too bright, and the Octavas had the midrange we felt was lacking in the AKGs. The 451s would most probably have given me a mix-down nightmare. I recently had a similar problem with a pair of Schoeps. I'd go for Octava any day now.
The old favorites were packed down. -Couldn't be world-champions in everything I guess. It sounded a lot better after the change. But it didn't look as beautiful...
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Nice Try Baby!
I just got this in the spam-box of my e-mail. I have removed all names and set new words in inverted commas since the spammer is using a real company name. Check it:
I am “Name” (“Company Name”), an attorney at law in “Country”. A deceased client of mine, who shares the same last name as yours, died as the result of a heart-related condition on March 12th 2005. His heart condition was due to the death of all then known members of his family in the tsunami disaster on the 26th December 2004 in Sumatra Indonesia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2004_Indian_Ocean_earthquake.
I can be reached on (“e-mail address”) for more information. My late Client has a deposit of Seventeen Million Five Hundred Thousand Dollars (US$17.5 Million Dollars) left behind.
Best regards,
“Name”
“Company name”
(Attorney at Law).
Hand Phone: “+xxxxxxxxx”
How many with my last name are there in this world? –The name of a little place on the West Norwegian coast. Hey, I ain’t even been there! My great grandfather, Harald, migrated from there coming on a hundred years ago (yeah, it’s him I’m named after). I know about only two branches with the family-name from that area, and one remote branch that might have another surname. If a whole family related to me got wiped out during the Tsunami, should I not know about it? And since I used to live in Singapore from 2005 and knew the embassy staff, my name would arguably have popped up on the radar. And why is not my surname mentioned specifically in the mail? –so that as many as possible can receive this generic e-mail!
Someone needs a new hobby!
Nice try baby,
-H- ;x
I am “Name” (“Company Name”), an attorney at law in “Country”. A deceased client of mine, who shares the same last name as yours, died as the result of a heart-related condition on March 12th 2005. His heart condition was due to the death of all then known members of his family in the tsunami disaster on the 26th December 2004 in Sumatra Indonesia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2004_Indian_Ocean_earthquake.
I can be reached on (“e-mail address”) for more information. My late Client has a deposit of Seventeen Million Five Hundred Thousand Dollars (US$17.5 Million Dollars) left behind.
Best regards,
“Name”
“Company name”
(Attorney at Law).
Hand Phone: “+xxxxxxxxx”
How many with my last name are there in this world? –The name of a little place on the West Norwegian coast. Hey, I ain’t even been there! My great grandfather, Harald, migrated from there coming on a hundred years ago (yeah, it’s him I’m named after). I know about only two branches with the family-name from that area, and one remote branch that might have another surname. If a whole family related to me got wiped out during the Tsunami, should I not know about it? And since I used to live in Singapore from 2005 and knew the embassy staff, my name would arguably have popped up on the radar. And why is not my surname mentioned specifically in the mail? –so that as many as possible can receive this generic e-mail!
Someone needs a new hobby!
Nice try baby,
-H- ;x
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Loud Cry in the Silent Night
So if I left, would it disappear?
The slight banner of disastrous steps to the tier?
Now left behind like barren land,
how could East of Eden ever provide for a man?
So if I not, but burnt it hot,
the fiery promises escapades won't stop...
But promises, hey! -what shall I say?
Has wind and rain now yield to me?
But if you say the dice is thrown,
and if you say all chances are sown...
I stand but for a moment still,
and in thine eyes I sense no victorious thrill!
For sure as man one day shall die,
if he himself is full measure he swiftly should say goodbye!
I'd think I would be better off,
in the hope that my name's letters were gained in the tough!
To the wind and the rain, for it all was design,
if not the rock holds it's own mindless mind!
Or what would the waves tell you if you asked them your worth?
For so many a man was killed by the surfs.
The chance and the surf has this one thing to share,
they won't cut off the time for those no longer here.
For time and chance provided, it all was decided,
the meaning of random forever be fired.
So if he then lost, against a worthy cause,
where then could the strider again find a provider?
For much as it feels like when surf hits the sand,
if aims are missed it is sad like lost land.
And if it is lost for this moment in time,
it means that the intent was for it to be mine!
In spite of the gone, the head be held high,
as a soldier till he comes home or dies.
The only thing pondered quite simply is this:
that if we have feelings, then who did us kiss?
and if we have aims, then who sets the games?
and if then we miss, is it like tumbling sand in a little kid's pile and no bigger bliss?
For if the evolvement was right,
the rational would have developed the irrational and the day could be night!
And sure as the sane is sure not insane,
I lay on man's destiny forever a claim!
For if all this was given to me and to you,
then there is more than the random in the clouds and the blue!
And that's what then hurts when the arrow's too low,
that there is no such thing as "random" for the angle of the bow!
By days to come I'd much like to see,
the lines and bearings, the paths of the free.
For many strolls in the dark of the woods,
raise your glasses!
For them all to be past in our wishes like ashes!
For more days graciously delivered,
and sunlight on hills over hills we can bear.
Men of the free, attach your loyalty,
raise your sceptres,
all we all long for cometh here after!
I'm sorry if tears felt like bruises to the faint,
but no one are dead while there's still blood running in his wains!
Please give me more of the wine in that toast,
for the days we shall live and no past to boast!
The slight banner of disastrous steps to the tier?
Now left behind like barren land,
how could East of Eden ever provide for a man?
So if I not, but burnt it hot,
the fiery promises escapades won't stop...
But promises, hey! -what shall I say?
Has wind and rain now yield to me?
But if you say the dice is thrown,
and if you say all chances are sown...
I stand but for a moment still,
and in thine eyes I sense no victorious thrill!
For sure as man one day shall die,
if he himself is full measure he swiftly should say goodbye!
I'd think I would be better off,
in the hope that my name's letters were gained in the tough!
To the wind and the rain, for it all was design,
if not the rock holds it's own mindless mind!
Or what would the waves tell you if you asked them your worth?
For so many a man was killed by the surfs.
The chance and the surf has this one thing to share,
they won't cut off the time for those no longer here.
For time and chance provided, it all was decided,
the meaning of random forever be fired.
So if he then lost, against a worthy cause,
where then could the strider again find a provider?
For much as it feels like when surf hits the sand,
if aims are missed it is sad like lost land.
And if it is lost for this moment in time,
it means that the intent was for it to be mine!
In spite of the gone, the head be held high,
as a soldier till he comes home or dies.
The only thing pondered quite simply is this:
that if we have feelings, then who did us kiss?
and if we have aims, then who sets the games?
and if then we miss, is it like tumbling sand in a little kid's pile and no bigger bliss?
For if the evolvement was right,
the rational would have developed the irrational and the day could be night!
And sure as the sane is sure not insane,
I lay on man's destiny forever a claim!
For if all this was given to me and to you,
then there is more than the random in the clouds and the blue!
And that's what then hurts when the arrow's too low,
that there is no such thing as "random" for the angle of the bow!
By days to come I'd much like to see,
the lines and bearings, the paths of the free.
For many strolls in the dark of the woods,
raise your glasses!
For them all to be past in our wishes like ashes!
For more days graciously delivered,
and sunlight on hills over hills we can bear.
Men of the free, attach your loyalty,
raise your sceptres,
all we all long for cometh here after!
I'm sorry if tears felt like bruises to the faint,
but no one are dead while there's still blood running in his wains!
Please give me more of the wine in that toast,
for the days we shall live and no past to boast!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
