#oneaday Day 865: Earnestness is neither cringe nor cheesy

I've run into a few creative works recently that were evidently put together with a great deal of earnestness, genuine thought and emotion. And people like them! But, more often than not, not without including some sort of "disclaimer".

Said disclaimer is usually some form of admission that "I know this is cheesy, but…" or "yes, this might be cringe, but…" before going on to give a genuine emotional response. For some people, it is seemingly difficult to just give that emotional response without feeling the need to justify it or explain it away.

Well, I'd like to say: own it! If you got hit in the feelings by something, that's okay! If you had an emotional reaction to something that was so strong it reduced you to a sobbing wreck, that's fine! That's good! You have a healthy relationship with your own emotions, and you are not afraid to express them!

I say this as someone who listened to this track from Ace Combat 8 earlier (which I knew the full narrative context of, having beaten the game a couple of days ago) and burst into full-on sobbing at it by the midpoint. Like, I was legitimately crying so hard I had to stop everything else I was doing.

If your immediate response to that is "wow, that's cheesy" or "I can't believe you admitted that", stop. Take a minute. Ponder why you are thinking that. Are you concerned about what other people might think of you if you exhibit some sort of vulnerability? Because that's not something you need to concern yourself with — particularly if you are sitting by yourself.

It's okay to have an emotional response to something. It's okay to have a physiological reaction to that emotional response. You aren't faulty. You aren't broken. You are being human — something it can sometimes feel like we are, in may ways, being discouraged from by the daily algorithmic bombardment from social media.

Sometimes those emotional responses can come from the strangest places — like the funny plane game.

Or perhaps a song developed by a father, based on the near-gibberish his young daughter writes as "stories":

My immediate response to this was just "aw, that's cute and adorable… and surprisingly well-produced for what is essentially a silly joke video". I won't lie, I listened to it multiple times in succession for its pure catchiness.

Then I read the comments to the "Living Room version" of the song (actually just the song with an animation rather than the vertical video of the chap singing). And the emotions hit me, hard.

Y'see, if you haven't listened to the song, the end part features the repeated motif that "everything all fell down, but he picked it up". In the context of the original story and lyrics, it's a silly moment; the main character, the "Little Tall Prince", dropped a cup in the grocery store which caused everything to fall over, so, being a good little prince, he picked it up. Simple, silly, right?

Except human beings have the tendency to ascribe meaning to things where it might not have been the original intent, but it most certainly fits. That video has comment after comment of people expressing the sincere hope that "we can pick it up" — that we can fix the world after "everything all fell down" over the course of the last few years or so.

The world is broken. Peoples' souls are broken. And they want nothing more than to begin the healing process. Little moments like this song give just a glimpse of a world we once knew; one where we could have hope for the future and not find ourselves continually enraged and saddened by the latest stupid, wasteful, obnoxious, tragic, violent, unjust things happening on a daily basis. Hope for the future, through the eyes of a child.

I saw the number of people expressing this sincere hope, completely earnestly, and it hit me right in the heart. I'm not too proud to admit that I shed a few more tears there. And listened to the song a good few more times.

I want to believe that we can pick it up. I want to believe that we can come together in a Song of Wings as one. It is not cringe, embarrassing or cheesy to think such things. Take a moment and have a good cry over something today. I can't guarantee you will necessarily feel better, but you will almost certainly feel some relief at having let out emotions that have probably been pent up within you for a long time.

That's what I felt after putting my own emotions through the wringer over the last couple of days. Sometimes self-care is just about allowing yourself to feel.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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#oneaday Day 862: Scherzo

Musical comedy is a thing that is very difficult to get right. But when someone does get it right, it can be incredibly amusing.

I thought today I might share a variety of examples of musical comedy that I've always enjoyed, presented with the caveat that, as usual, these may not be on YouTube any more by the time you get around to reading this post. If that is the case, you'll just have to take my word for it that they were very funny indeed.

My most recent discovery in this regard is No Worries If Not! by Tom Cardy, an Australian musical comedian who makes well-produced music with endearingly low-budget videos, usually involving him in his home. This particular song is a foul-mouthed ode to being a freelance creative, and the disparity between the things you really want to say to your client, and the things that, if you are a socially anxious person — as many freelance creatives are — you actually end up saying.

I love the genuine-seeming anger in this one. Many people online will be able to relate to this one, I'm sure, particularly if they work in a creative field, but also if they're just someone who isn't naturally assertive. Kudos for the half-rhyme between "Please eat my butthole and call me king" and "Please don't email me after 4pm".

This is probably one of Tim Minchin's most well-known ones, but on the off-chance you've not seen/heard it before, I will let it speak for itself.

Sbassbear is a more niche pull, because it helps if you have at least a passing familiarity with Game Grumps beforehand — though they have done some of their own original stuff, too. The great thing about Sbassbear is that they take utterly ridiculous, silly moments from the Grumps' playthroughs of various games and turn them into legitimate bangers. This song, while based entirely on a throwaway comment about having low testosterone, is kind of beautiful in its own thoroughly stupid way.

This is one of my absolute favourite Aunty Donna sketches, not just because of the subject matter, but because it's so brilliantly produced, encompassing a range of different styles across the duration of one song. My favourite part is the Les Misérables bit, which is both hilarious and performed with admirable earnestness.

This is a particular breed of online musical comedy, involving cutting and pasting myriad clips of someone from television and online appearances, then mixing them into a solid track. Swedemason is the absolute master of this, as far as I'm concerned, and in the interests of not putting the disgraced face of Gregg Wallace in front of you for my former favourite track, Buttery Biscuit Bass, here's Mary Berry instead.

And an older classic to finish off with. This was one of the first tracks I ever heard from the Bonzo Dog Band, and I knew immediately that I was going to get on with their particular breed of nonsense. This is another great example of a clearly talented group of musicians doing a deliberately "bad" piece of music, and it only working because they're obviously skilled musicians. The clarinet solo in this is a work of genius.

There. Hope that's brightened up your Saturday evening. Enjoy!

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#oneaday Day 773: Locked-in tastes

I'm increasingly convinced that there comes a point in your life where your tastes — in every respect — are just plain "locked", and it becomes very difficult to change them. This even extends to stepping out of your comfort zone when it comes to other works by people that you like.

I am thinking of this with particular regard to musical tastes, as I went out for a walk this evening, and rather than taking the opportunity to listen to something new to me, I decided to put on DJ Yoda's How to Cut & Paste Mix Tape Vol. 1. To be fair, this is an album I haven't actually listened to for quite a long time, so in a way it was a bit of a change from constantly spinning one track from the Gal*Gun 2 soundtrack (this one, if you were curious) because said track makes me smile. But there are also other DJ Yoda albums that I have never listened to — and, going on the fact I enjoyed How to Cut & Paste Vol. 1, 2 and '80s Edition plus Unthugged, I will probably enjoy them also. And yet. And yet. Here I am, hitting Play on things I've been listening to since 2001.

I'm conscious of this every time I put on Dream Theater's Octavarium, an album I like 100% because I enjoyed Panic Attack in Rock Band on the grounds it "sounds a bit like Castlevania", instead of trying out any of their other albums.

I'm conscious of it every time I listen to Movement in Still Life by BT — and it has to be the version of it I'm familiar with — because I remember being introduced to that specific album by my brother, and buying a copy the next time I had the opportunity.

I'm conscious of it every time I listen to Time by ELO, because it's an album I have fond memories of listening to with my Dad.

And I'm conscious of it every time, when faced with the limitless possibilities today's streaming platforms provide, I inevitably revert to the exact same few albums, time after time. Which were likely the ones I ripped and uploaded to Google Play Music before they made it shitter and turned it into YouTube Music anyway.

I don't have a physical CD collection any more, aside from a bunch of soundtrack CDs I've acquired from various limited edition releases of video games. For many years, I didn't regret getting rid of the pile of CDs I had — a collection which dated back to my teenage years, and Oasis' Definitely Maybe, the first piece of popular music I bought for myself with my own money — but just recently, I have been missing them. I have been feeling tempted to make an attempt at rebuilding a collection — with the main thing that is stopping me being the fact I don't think I have a lot of room for CDs. (Although I feel like I could probably make room quite easily.)

I know what will happen if I do that, though: I will inevitably pick up all the albums I remember owning, and probably not anything else. After all, why on Earth would you take a risk on buying some music that you might not like?

This is silly, of course, and it's in direct opposition to how I used to feel about buying music. I used to have absolutely zero shame in the music I bought, as it happens — and I still do feel that way in some respects. I'll listen to pretty much anything, regardless of how cool or uncool it might be — although I do tend to draw the line at tedious X-Factor ballads.

It's just that, as I've grown older, I've felt more and more ensconced in that one canonical set of "albums I like", and stepping outside of that always feels surprisingly difficult — even when it comes to artists whose output I, generally speaking, know that I like.

So y'know what. In an attempt to broaden my own horizons, when I go out for another walk one evening later in the week, I will make an effort to pick something I have never heard before from an artist that I know I like as the accompaniment. I might even discover some new favourites!

As for tonight, I had forgotten about the track called Stupid Poo on How to Cut & Paste Mix Tape Vol. 1 that uses farting as a significant part of the beat, and I thoroughly enjoyed rediscovering it. I will leave that with you.

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#oneaday Day 772: The Lovely(-Sounding) Bones

I dread to think how much money I have spent on headphones over the years. I never buy particularly pricy ones — I think the most expensive ones I've bought were some nice noise-cancelling Sony ones a while back, which I use when recording videos — but I do get through 'em. I'm annoyed that probably my favourite headphones of all time — a pair of Sennheiser on-ear headphones that cost me about £35 — went missing and I have no idea where, but no matter; I have replaced them a bajillion times over since.

My most recent acquisition in this department is a set of "bone-conducting" headphones. I have been curious to try this technology for a while, and as it was a nice day without being "can't breathe" levels of hot today, I thought I would go for a walk and try them out.

For the unfamiliar, bone-conducting headphones are exactly what they sound like. Rather than sticking them in or on your ear, they sit just in front of your ear on the bony bit that is there. They then transmit the sound through that bone and into the complicated stuff that is inside your ear. This means they bypass your eardrum, which has a number of benefits — most notably allowing those with hearing issues to hear things much better than through things you put in or on your ear — but for me their main appeal element is the fact that… well, they don't sit in or on your ear.

I don't like earbuds because I've never found a pair that are comfortable or that will stay in — and with how bloody tiny wireless ones are these days, I'd be terrified of losing them if I'd paid any sort of premium for them. I do like over-ear headphones, but they do make my head hot, so they're not especially practical for wearing out and about, particularly in the summer. And you just don't really seem to see on-ear headphones much these days. At least, I haven't. Maybe I just haven't really been looking.

These bone-conducting headphones I got were a cheapo pair from Amazon, because I wasn't about to pay through the nose for these if they were any sort of unknown quantity. They're wireless, have USB-C charging and Bluetooth, which is all I really needed. There are fancier (and much more expensive) pairs you can get that have on-board music storage, heavier waterproofing that lets you use them while swimming, and all manner of other features, but I figured just for now, just to begin with, something basic and affordable would be plenty.

And they are! I wore them out for a walk around the Common earlier today, and they definitely do the job. Music is audible and clear, and the fact they're not stuffed in your ears means that if you keep the volume down a bit you can still hear everything going on around you; if you turn the volume up, meanwhile, you can get almost as much immersion in the sound as with a regular pair of earphones.

Sound quality is okay. If you had a Walkman back in the day and had a pair of those over-ear headphones with the foam ear covers, the sound quality seemed roughly equivalent to a pair like that — nothing super-remarkable, a little lacking in the bass end, but perfectly adequate for most things, particularly if "listening to music" is not the primary activity on your agenda and you just want some background noise.

I'm surprised how effectively the bone-conducting method works. I was expecting it to feel weird or be somehow "unusual", but when the music's on, it just sounds like it's being piped into your ears like with a regular pair of headphones. The only real notable difference I noticed is beyond a certain volume level, you can feel the vibrations a little bit, giving a slight tickly sensation around the temples. I found a decent balance between sound quality, not being tickled and being able to hear important noises around me to be a few steps down from max volume, whereas on a lot of other headphones I tend to find myself whacking them up to max and leaving it there.

While I'm not going to go and recommend these things as a replacement for proper audiophile gear — I suspect even the more expensive models will be somewhat limited in their sound quality by the very nature of the tech — they're absolutely a great solution for having some music on while you're out and about, and they're discreet enough that you can just leave them on all the time even while you're not actively using them.

I'm definitely going to be using these a lot more, as I'm definitely (haha) going to be getting out and having a nice walk on a more semi-regular basis than I have been. Weather-permitting, of course; I suspect with how most days have been of late, I will be having a lot of evening walks rather than going in the daytime!

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#oneaday Day 769: Sample CDs and sonicfunkstars

I finally got around to doing something I've been meaning to do for ages today: (re)install my myriad CDs of music samples so I can have a play around with something like ACID Music again. (I don't even know if the copy of ACID Music I own still works, but it's worth a go, surely.) I say I got around to it. I got around to starting it. Because it's been a slow process.

Pete naps while waiting for a slow disc reader to do its thing.

There are a couple of reasons this has been a slow process. Firstly, I'm using a cheap-ass USB DVD drive, which I think is knackered. It's developed that particular trait that cheap-ass and knackered technology does where just breathing anywhere near its USB cable causes it to disconnect and then reconnect again — which, when you're talking about a storage device and attempting to get media off it, is not ideal.

Secondly, these CDs must be more than 20 years old. This is part of the reason I'm looking forward to having a play with them again: any music created with them will be so gleefully anachronistic that it will be an absolute delight. Back in the early 2000s, when I first got them, they may well have sounded clichéd. But now! Now they will just sound dated and stupid! And I live for dated and stupid.

The CDs in question were part of a range of packs that the "eJay" label put out, ostensibly (I guess) as an option for those who wanted to move on from the super-fun but rather simplistic Dance, Techno and Hip-Hop eJay sample sequencers, each of which came with a bunch of their own samples. These ones, meanwhile, covered a wide variety of different styles, including various forms of dance, house, techno, hip-hop, trip-hop, alternative, grunge, pop, industrial and many others. It always used to be a great joy putting mismatching samples together to see what happened, and I'm sure that's going to be even more fun now a lot of these "genres" don't really exist any more — at least in the same form as they did in the early 2000s, anyway.

Originally, when I first got these CDs, my school friends and I had a loosely organised collective known as "sonicfunkstars", which is still my Xbox Live Gamertag to this day. We made a bunch of silly (and not-so-silly!) tracks between us, and I get nice fuzzy feelings of nostalgia when I listen back to them. What's that? You want to hear one? Well, I think that can probably be arranged.

This is Txtr's Thumb, which I specifically composed to irritate the piss out of anyone with a Nokia mobile phone. Which was absolutely everyfuckingone at the time I made this. Its impact is somewhat diminished today — unless you have specifically set your phone up to make Nokia noises, which is a possibility, if you're one of those weirdoes who doesn't have your phone on silent at all times — but it does have a thumping beat that I was pretty pleased with back in the day, and still enjoy now. Bonus points for the unnecessary, pointless and nonsensical "lyrics". Baby. Baby! Everything, baby.

More? More.

This is Let's See Your Todger, which is composed almost entirely out of sound clips I recorded on my MiniDisc player of a Theatre Group rehearsal at university. If that doesn't give you some idea of how early 2000s we're talking… well, there you go. Also, sex noises (which weren't actually sex noises, but we thought they sounded like sex noises), which are funny.

One more, go on then. I should probably assemble all these onto a proper page at some point.

This is Good Times, which was an attempt to create the cheesiest-sounding thing possible with the samples I had available. We were into our cheese, we were, while we were at university, so I wanted to pay homage to that in my own way. It even features multiple Boyband Keychanges, just for added fromage factor.

That's a little taste of sonicfunkstars for you. At some point, as I say, I'll pull all this stuff together and archive it properly, along with the stuff I worked on with a pal during teacher training under the name Angry Jedi. Yes, indeed, the source for the original URL of this blog. But I think that's probably a tale for another time at this point.

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#oneaday Day 706: The Garlean Territorial Anthem goes with everything

One extremely private habit that I have developed which I have not really admitted to anyone before is a tendency to sing stupid shit when I am in the house by myself. By "stupid shit" I usually mean "narrating what I am doing at the time to the tune of something unrelated". And, over the years of doing this — it's an uncontrollable impulse at this point — I have determined that The Garlean Territorial Anthem for Gyr Abania and Surrounding States: The Measure of our Reach from Final Fantasy XIV is absolutely ideal to put stupid words to.

If you are unfamiliar with this stirring piece of music, here is the original:

The original lyrics run thus:

Beyond majestic mountains
Across the emerald dale
On march the ivory standard
United we prevail

From distant shores of Othard
To lakes of Aldenard
The light of mighty Garlemald
For e'er our guiding star

It continues in similarly "patriotic but built on stolen land" fashion after that. It's a whole thing. What you can hopefully tell from listening to the above, however, is that it's a song with a relatively simple melody line, and fairly simple rhythms. This makes it absolutely ideal for use when you are singing about something stupid and/or disgusting.

Please feel free to replay the above video, while singing the below words to it.

I'm going to take a dump now
I'm going to have a shit
I'm going to shoot poo out my arse
And fill the toilet up

I'm going to take a shit now
I'm going to have a dump
The poo will come right out my bum
And God, it really stinks

I laugh in the face of rhyming schemes. But there's something innately satisfying about having a big ol' dump and bellowing that at the top of your lungs in a deep baritone. I recommend you try it. Even if you have a high voice. I suspect a glass-shattering, vibrato-filled soprano will also fit the bill nicely.

I don't remember exactly when I discovered that The Garlean Territorial Anthem for Gyr Abania and Surrounding States: The Measure of our Reach was ideal for this purpose, but I find it very difficult to stop myself from doing this any time I am in the house by myself. I don't even have to actually be taking a shit to want to sing it. It just sort of comes out. There are other versions of the lyrics, too, mostly relating to bodily functions and/or ablutions, but I will keep those to myself. A girl's got to have a bit of mystery.

Naturally I do not do this when anyone else is present, because I would be absolutely mortified if anyone heard what I was doing and the words I was singing. And not just because I've always been rather self-conscious about my singing voice. I also generally make sure the windows are shut.

In fact, I'm not entirely sure why I'm admitting this right now. I just thought you might find it amusing.

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#oneaday Day 658: A random selection of pieces of music that make me smile

It's getting late and I haven't thought of anything to write and I'm full of curry, so let's do a MULTIMEDIA POST, shall we?

I'm partly inspired by a discussion I had earlier in a Discord that I'm a member of, in which we talked about things we liked from creators who clearly just made things for the joy of creating them — not in the hope of "going viral" or making a living out of them. I'm talking about stuff like Badgers, Badgers, Badgers and its ilk — although as it happened, a lot of those works did end up going viral and doubtless making their creators a fair amount of money. The point is that they weren't created with that in mind from the outset.

Funny, silly comedy songs and animations aren't the only thing I want to talk about today, though. More broadly, I just want to share a few things that always make me smile. Not always because they're funny, but because I just find them uplifting in some way. And where better to begin than with the irrepressible Hatsune Miku?

I'm not sure what exactly caused me to hyperfixate on this piece of music from Hatsune Miku Logic Paint S so much, but make no mistake; I most certainly did hyperfixate on it, as for a significant portion of my time playing the Picross-esque puzzles in Logic Paint S, I had set the in-game playlist to be nothing but this track.

I think I like this just because it's undeniably cheerful, bouncy and upbeat. It feels like it fits Miku nicely, and it's a good accompaniment to doing some puzzles — or just for when you need a bit of a pick-me-up.

My first encounter with Cave's classic bullet hell shoot 'em up series Dodonpachi was on iOS devices, where there was an excellent version of Dodonpachi Resurrection. One thing which still stands out about the mobile version of this game is that it features an exclusive game mode that not only has its own mechanics, it has a completely different soundtrack to the game's regular, rather more moody score.

People like the standard Dodonpachi Resurrection music a lot, and to be sure, it's good. But there's something I really like about these completely new tracks from the mobile version — and particularly this one, which accompanies the opening level. It's got that real adventurous "we're setting off on a brave, bold mission!" feel to it that I really like; it's full of hope for the future, rather than a bleak sense of submission to the endless horrors that await. And I think we could all do with a bit of that right now.

I maintain that Inti Creates' Gal*Gun games are some of the best games that no-one will admit to playing because they're about making girls collapse in euphoric ecstasy by pointing at them. All three of them are really solid rail shooters, each with their own distinctive mechanics and story to follow, and they all have great soundtracks, too.

This track, used for a lot of the regular levels in Gal*Gun 2, is a short but sweet track that really sums up the game's energy. There's not a trace of maliciousness anywhere in any of the Gal*Gun games, and their music never fails to make me smile.

Right, time we had a silly one. I remember coming across this one for the first time and absolutely pissing myself laughing. It still always makes me chuckle now… particularly the "Cock!" break in the second verse.

This sort of thing is very representative of what was going on in the Badgers, Badgers, Badgers-adjacent space on sites like rathergood.com, b3ta.com and Weebl's Stuff back in the mid '00s to the early '10s. The thing I like is that although endearingly lo-fi, particularly in the vocal samples, the whole thing is very well put together and works as a standalone song. It's just better with the animation.

Regrettably, the original animation for this piece is no longer available. It used to be that you could type in "2204355" into Google Search, hit "I'm Feeling Lucky" and it would take you to a technicolour Flash animation featuring a pixelated dancing guy from an old KFC advert and this delightful chiptune remix of the theme from ALF. Thankfully, the person behind the music came forward and published the music in its full glory on YouTube some 15 years ago, so even though the Google trick doesn't work any more, we can, at least, still enjoy the tune.

Side note: this blog is old enough that I blogged about when I first found this. It was, it has to be said, a particularly dark period in my life, when I had just split from my first wife and was at the lowest I've ever been. I happened to stumble across this one evening and found that it drove the darkness away for a few minutes at a time, so I watched that stupid animation over and over for hours. Thank you, mystery 2204355 creator, and thank you, Zalza, for helping me in my hour of need, even if you have no idea that you did so.

I wrote a bit about Sbassbear the other day, but I can't not mention their most recently published Game Grumps remix, as it's one of their best yet. Once again, this is a video I just keep returning to because it makes me smile.

Actually, to hell with it, there's another Sbassbear one I love also, and I can't pick between these two, so you're getting both:

I love BEANS because it's just so chaotic and ridiculous. But I love Shnigedy Ding Dong because it encapsulates the feeling you get when playing Tetris Effect Connected — and specifically, the wonderful mode where three people team up against another player, every so often bringing their independent wells together into one giant superwell, accompanied by a massive crescendo in the music and… as Dan says in the video, "ohhh, I love it so much!"

Right, that's enough. Off to bed with me now.

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#oneaday Day 600: My CD shelf

Every so often — and a lot more frequently just recently — I find myself thinking back to the collection of music CDs that I once had, and ponder whether or not I should attempt to rebuild that collection. After all, with streaming services generally agreed to be a net shitter for the music industry — and several of them starting to bring in AI slop, because I don't fucking know — it is becoming fashionable, once again, to have a physical collection of Stuff.

Now, you know me. I know this. I have a living room whose walls are at least 85% video games. But I got rid of my whole CD collection when we moved into this place, because… well, there wasn't really room for it anywhere, and at that point, the digital future of music seemed pretty certain. Also the few quid I got for the collection by sending it to musicMagpie certainly helped.

One of the things I find myself getting hung up on is exactly what was in that CD collection. It has literally just occurred to me that I can probably just look at my musicMagpie account and see what I traded in 11 years ago, but that's much too easy. (EDIT: also, apparently I did not create an account when I traded all this shit in.) So I'm going to attempt to do it from memory, with explanations where necessary.

In no particular order other than as they come to me:

Definitely Maybe (Oasis) – the first album I ever bought with my own money, after I learned about what modern music it was "cool" to like. Embarrassingly, I bought it literally the day before (What's the Story) Morning Glory? came out, which got me some ribbing, but not that much, because Definitely Maybe was still a decent album.
(What's the Story) Morning Glory? (Oasis) – I actually don't think I bought this for myself, because I had it on cassette, not CD. I often considered buying it on CD but never quite got around to it because I always thought my money was probably better spent on something I didn't already have. I quite liked the tape version. It was easy to play in the car.
Be Here Now (Oasis) – People seem to hate this one now. I thought it was good.
Jagged Little Pill (Alanis Morissette) – I'm actually not sure why I bought this, because I had heard its greatest hits so many times on the local radio station the school bus always had on, and was thoroughly sick of them. But for some reason I did buy it — and I'm glad I did, because I ended up liking pretty much all the songs on it, particularly after reading along with the lyrics while listening. Fun fact: I'm pretty sure this album taught everyone in my friendship group and surrounding acquaintances what the term "going down on" meant.
Blurring the Edges (Meredith Brooks) – After accepting that yes, I actually did quite like Alanis Morissette, I sought out some other "girls with guitars" albums. I became rather fond of this one. Not every track is a winner, but there are some great songs on here, with Bitch probably the most well-known of them.
Left of the Middle (Natalie Imbruglia) – Not quite "girls with guitars", but sort of adjacent. I wasn't really thinking about that, though. I primarily bought this because several of us really fancied Natalie Imbruglia.
Footprints (Holly Valance) – See above, with even more tenuous justification.
Spice (The Spice Girls) – I have told this story before.
Spiceworld (The Spice Girls) – I'm not sure that justifies this, though.
Travelling Without Moving (Jamiroquai) – My best friends at school were super into Jamiroquai. It didn't take long for me to join them, subsequently adding Emergency on Planet Earth and Return of the Space Cowboy to my collection also.
Essential Indie (Various) – A CD that came free with my Discman when I got one for Christmas or a birthday or something. My favourite track on it was Sick & Tired by The Cardigans, primarily for its unusual flute and bassoon backing.
Essential Acid Jazz (Various) – A double CD that I picked up not long after getting into Jamiroquai. This was a varied selection of acid jazz weirdness, with only really one track by the Brand New Heavies being familiar. My friends and I all enjoyed this album a lot though, and a copy hastily recorded to tape was a fixture in my mum's car (which I often borrowed of an evening) throughout most of my time at sixth form. Favourite track was, without a doubt, Big Kahuna by Jeremy Bun, a track which my friends and I parodied in our brief incarnation as the sonicfunkstars shortly after we learned to use Sony's ACID Music. (Fun fact: my Xbox Live Gamertag is still sonicfunkstars, because I am not paying Microsoft money to change my fucking name.)
The Lord of the Rings (Unknown) – The Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings movies came out while I was at university, and we all enjoyed them. I bought this album because it had a cool box with a nearly naked lady on it and it said The Lord of the Rings on it. I didn't mistake it for the official soundtrack or anything (which I also bought) — if I'm honest I primarily bought it because of the titty lady. When I got it home and opened it up I discovered that titty lady actually got them out in the sleeve notes. When I put the CD in the player, I discovered that the whole album was literally just noise. I have no idea what it was supposed to be or why. I was so ashamed of the purchase I actually threw it out. To date I haven't been able to rediscover exactly what this fucking weird CD was — as I'm sure you can imagine, tracking down something just called The Lord of the Rings is not easy — nor am I sure I want to, because I think it might have been haunted.
Painkiller (Judas Priest) – My friend Owen, who I did teacher training with, introduced me to metal. A particular favourite of us both was this excellent album. On one memorable afternoon, in a chemically induced haze, we produced a spectacular Judas Priest remix using ACID Music. It helped distract from the horrors of the working day.

There's a bunch of compilations also — including Shine 7 and 8, which I talked about here — but those are most of the ones I can remember without taxing my memory too hard. I know there were a lot more than that. And now I really want to know what happened to that receipt for all the CDs I traded in 11 years ago. It must be somewhere!

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#oneaday Day 505: Getting to know Yiruma

I mentioned a couple of days ago that I have been making a concerted effort to get back into playing the piano more regularly, and as part of that process, I bought some new music books. One of them was another album of pieces by Ludovico Einaudi, a composer whose work I had enjoyed playing both for the way it sounded and for its relative "pick-up-and-play"-ability. While I was picking up this second book of Einaudi, I was also recommended a book by a Korean pianist named Yiruma, so I thought I'd take a chance, go in blind (deaf?) and see what he was all about.

I've played a few pieces from Yiruma's book today, and they are lovely. Moreover, they are pitched at a slightly higher ability level than most of the Einaudi stuff I have played to date, which is exactly what I wanted; I wanted something that pushed me just a little bit without being overwhelming, as that will help me in rebuilding my confidence, which is the main point of this overall exercise.

Yiruma, for the unfamiliar, is a South Korean pianist whose real name is Lee Ru-Ma. He studied in the UK at the Purcell and subsequently King's College London before later moving back to South Korea after his military service. Over the years, he has composed both standalone music and soundtracks to films and animation. Apparently his music saw particular popularity during the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, although good ol' Wikipedia doesn't specifically cite a source (or reason) for this.

I can kind of get why, though. The 2020 lockdowns were an unsettling period where none of us really knew what was going to happen, and Yiruma's music is pleasant, relaxing, uplifting and emotional. Indeed, in the front of the book I bought there's a message from him saying:

I hope my music finds its way into your hands whenever you feel happiness, heaviness, or need light in your darkest times.

This was what I wished for, and this wish could come true through you. I sincerely hope that someday the music remains a part of your memory.

Aside from what I assume is a slightly clunky translation, the sentiment is nice. The guy wants to feel like there is a personal connection between him, his music, and the people who are enjoying it — presumably whether they are just listening to it or actually playing it for themselves. And the 2020 lockdowns were a time when we could have all done with a bit more in the way of personal connections — as much as I joked at the time about not having to go out being a real pleasure for an introvert, the last five years have been… difficult, so far as interpersonal relationships are concerned. While I don't think Yiruma is saying his music is going to "solve" anything, he does seem to sincerely hope that it will bring some form of comfort or distraction from potentially difficult times — and provide some nice memories too.

Ultimately that's what good music is about: feeling some form of emotional connection. The exact form that takes depends on the specifics of the music itself, but it's pretty much a constant across much of both the artistic and mainstream, popular side of things.

I'm looking forward to playing some more from the book, as I like what I've played so far. If I figure out a decent means of recording, I might even share some with you sometime. After a bit more practice, though…

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#oneaday Day 503: One Audi

I have been doing my best to have a bit of self-discipline and play the piano more. I like playing the piano. I have always liked playing the piano, but I don't make nearly enough time to do so these days, and that absolutely needs to change.

I'm not planning on becoming a big famous concert pianist or anything, but it is nice to be able to just sit down at the piano, play something and it sound at least moderately tolerable. Preferably good.

Part of the issue I've had is because I have lacked that discipline for a frankly unhealthy number of years at this point, I haven't lost my skills as such, but I lack a lot of the confidence in my abilities that I perhaps once had when I was at my arguable peak of ability, around the age of 18-20 or so. I can still play quite a few of the pieces that I played back then, but there are also some pieces I once played that are far too terrifying to even contemplate trying again until I get myself back up to what I would imprecisely describe as "scratch".

As part of rebuilding confidence, it's always nice and helpful to have some pieces that are pretty much "pick up and play". Although sight-reading always used to be one of the most terrifying parts of music exams, I've always been very good at it, and all the more so if a piece of music is, and I don't wish to sound overly arrogant here, pitched a little lower than the peak of my actual abilities. After all, that is what the sight-reading section of music exams assessed: your ability to pick up and play a piece that was pitched a few "grades" below the exam you were taking.

One album of music that I've been enjoying playing recently is one that my mother bought for me a good few years back, but which I haven't spent a lot of time exploring. And that is Ludovico Einaudi's The Piano Collection, Volume 1. Interestingly enough, there does not appear to be a Volume 2 (I have looked this evening) but there are quite a few other Einaudi books out there, one of which I've ordered, along with a book by a Korean pianist named Yiruma who appears to be in a similar vein.

Einaudi's music is… uncomplicated, minimalist, often predictable, even repetitive. As acclaimed a pianist as he is, the complexity of his compositions is a far cry from the Bachs and Beethovens of the world. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. He composes pieces of music that just sound nice, and which have plenty of scope for expression and interpretation. I must confess I've never actually listened to him actually playing the pieces in the book — although in some respects, that might also be a good thing, as it means I can put my own interpretation on them, play them how I feel they should be played, which is as important a part of performance as anything. (That said, I have put one of his albums on in the background while I type this.)

One thing I do find quite interesting about Einaudi is that he uses a lot of compositional techniques that I used when I had to compose pieces for GCSE and A-level music. As such, I guess I feel a sort of vaguely "personal" connection to several of his pieces, because they feel quite like something that I could have written at some point. That's an oddly… comforting feeling, I guess I'd describe it as? To have a tenuous sort of creative connection with an Italian pianist-composer that I know pretty much nothing about. It's… nice.

So yeah. I have been playing a fair bit of these Einaudi tracks of late, and enjoying them enough to grab another book of his stuff to explore. So hopefully doing this a bit more often will help me rebuild my confidence and perhaps tackle some more ambitious pieces in the medium- to long-term.

And now, having written this, I probably better go play a bit, hadn't I?

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