#oneaday Day 874: 21 Hours Left to Get Indie Game Music Bundle 3

As I type this, Indie Game Music Bundle 3 has just 21 hours left on the clock. The package aims to give your ears a good rogering with the soundtracks to Terraria, Plants vs. Zombies, Dustforce, Ilomilo and Frozen Synapse, and is a cheap date, too — it’s available under the fashionable “pay what you want” scheme.

There’s a caveat, though — break the $10 barrier and you get a bunch of extra soundtracks, too. Specifically, you get the following additional albums on top of the already-awesome package detailed above:

Offspring Fling Original Soundtrack — Alec Holowka
Mubla Evol Ution: NoituLove 1&2 and More — Joakim Sandberg
Cardinal Quest Original Soundtrack — Whitaker Blackall
InMomentum Original Soundtrack — Gareth Coker
Impeccable Micro — _ensnare_
Bluescreen Chiptune/Jazz — Protodome
Beautiful Lifestyle — George & Jonathan
Rise of the Obsidian Interstellar — Disasterpeace
Deorbit — Disasterpeace
Gungirl 2 Original Soundtrack — Josh Whelchel
Astroman Original Soundtrack — Jeff Ball
The Blocks Cometh Original Soundtrack — Hyperduck Soundworks
Fittest Original Soundtrack — Zircon
Songs for the Cure ’11 — Various Artists
Songs for the Cure ’10 — Various Artists

You may not be familiar with any or all of the above artists, but rest assured that this is a fantastic bundle to pleasure your lugholes with for 19 and a half hours, covering a wide range of different musical styles. To be honest, it’s worth your money for the fantastic Frozen Synapse soundtrack alone, which is aural sex.

Game music is traditionally a “love it or hate it” sort of thing, though in recent years we’ve started to see a huge shift in attitudes towards it. Whereas game soundtracks were once bleepy-bloopy loops made to fit into the amount of memory it takes to write a single sentence in a Microsoft Word document these days, today they’re impressive affairs that are frequently on par with movies.

In fact, big-budget triple-A video games (particularly those from the West) try a little too hard to be movies, with sweeping orchestral scores composed by the likes of Hans Zimmer. In some respects, these modern soundtracks, while impressive, have lost a lot of the character that game music used to have — by working around the technological limitations of the era, old-school game musicians came up with catchy earworms that you’d remember for years afterwards. This happens much less these days because composers can pretty much run free with whatever they want to do. As an exercise, hum the Super Mario Bros. theme to yourself now. Then hum the Modern Warfare 3 theme. You probably can’t do the latter. (Though you probably can hum the Halo theme, showing that some composers still “get it”.)

Anyway, my point is that soundtrack composers for independently-developed titles such as these tend to “get” what made game soundtracks of the past so memorable much better than those composing for big-budget titles, and these indie composers are then able to apply this knowledge to modern compositional techniques and technology in order to create some truly excellent pieces of music. Some deliberately make use of chiptune sounds; others have their own distinctive aural aesthetic. All are unique. All are most definitely worth your $10.

Grab a copy of the Bundle here.

#oneaday Day 784: Does the Games Press need a “6 Music”?

I was chatting with a few people on Twitter the other day, one of whom was the fine and lovely Aubrey “Chupacaubrey” Norris, better known as Deep Silver’s Information Tarantula and the sender of the best PR emails in the known universe. The main thrust of our discussion was that the games press is seemingly becoming increasingly homogenised, with the latest “blockbuster” releases consistently monopolising coverage to such a degree that smaller games such as those Aubrey frequently represents are finding it particularly difficult to get noticed by big sites like Gamespot, IGN et al.

In practice, the games press is likely no more homogenised than it has been in the past, but the medium it examines has, over the course of the last few years, diversified to such a degree that it’s nigh on impossible for the staff of high-profile outlets to cover absolutely everything — particularly when you throw the burgeoning social and mobile markets into the mix. It’s the “Cambrian explosion of possibilities” that Sim City creator Will Wright talked about back in 2008. On the one hand, it’s great that the audience playing games covers a much wider demographic than ever before. But on the other, coverage hasn’t adapted enough to be able to celebrate the full breadth of experiences on offer. No one site can do that by itself.

Instead, behind the scenes at outlets decisions are made, and those decisions inevitably err on the side of “cover the shit out of whatever is going to be a massive seller this month”. There’s also something of a crossover between the outcome of this decision and the amount of assets tossed out by publishers — those big publishers who are responsible for getting hot new titles noticed and scoring the fat sales figures ensure that absolutely bloody everyone knows about their game by issuing a press release every time they release three new screenshots. (This is not an exaggeration.) This has the side effect of, at times, taking over the front page of press release aggregators such as GamesPress, particularly if the announcements show up in several different languages. Consequently, announcements regarding smaller titles often fall by the wayside.

It’s not just with press releases that this happens, either. At gaming shows such as Gamescom, which I had the pleasure to attend last year, large publishers often throw big events lasting for several hours, which can cut into the valuable time available for journalists to scoot around smaller companies and pick out what are likely to be the “sleeper hits” of the year. And no-one wants to be that one outlet who didn’t cover, say, EA’s press conference.

At the other end of the spectrum, we get the phenomenon of the “indie darling”, whereby a developer which hasn’t followed the same sort of marketing strategy as a giant, multi-million dollar publisher has grown to seemingly disproportionately huge success through viral promotion and word of mouth. It’s great to see this, but again this can lead to the monopolisation of coverage as outlets consistently pick out titles like, say, Minecraft and Bastion to point at any time they want to go “LOOK, WE COVER INDIE GAMES TOO!” Then the problem starts all over again in a slightly different form. Look at all the lists of awards for last year, for example. Most of the awards which celebrated indie games mentioned Minecraft, Bastion or Superbrothers: Sword and Sworcery EP. Where was the love for Frozen Synapse? Dungeon Defenders? Sequence? Dungeons of Dredmor? Dustforce?

In many cases, it’s not that these titles don’t get covered at all, it’s more that they’re treated as curios at best, deemed somehow “unworthy” of the excessive amount of behind-the-scenes footage, interviews, opinion pieces, previews, multiplayer previews, DLC previews and what have you that the big hitters get. There are occasional outliers — look at the positive effect Jim Sterling’s celebration of Deadly Premonition had, for example — but for the most part, I can see why people like Aubrey get frustrated when they just want people to give the games they represent the attention they deserve. Tom Ohle of Evolve PR — an agency which represents some of the best, most underappreciated games in recent years — wrote an excellent post on this very subject about a year ago.

So what’s the solution? It’s a difficult prospect, to be sure, for coverage of these large blockbuster titles is, in theory, what the majority of the audience wants. The games sell bucketloads of copies on release, everyone is talking about them months before they’re on shelves and reviews often seem like foregone conclusions by the time the embargoes eventually lift. But the trouble with all this is it means that one outlet becomes very much like another. Sure, each outlet has their own distinctive “voices” and some try to make a point of having a “unique” editorial style — sadly, this often translates simply to “snark” or “swearing” — but all of them are generally covering the same things at the same time.

For a possible alternative way to look at things, I looked to a different creative industry with a similar sort of overwhelmingly massive breadth to gaming: music. In the music business, no one outlet attempts to cover absolutely everything. That would be pure folly, quite simply for the fact that it would be literally impossible to do, even with a massive staff. But not only that, the audience doesn’t want that, either. A kid who’s into One Direction and Justin Bieber doesn’t give a toss about what Vladimir Ashkenazy is up to. Similarly, a classical music buff probably isn’t that interested in what Skrillex has to say about his latest beats. All across the music business, coverage is tailored to a specific, more specialised audience according to any combination of popularity, genre and target demographic, with occasional overlap and crossover. This happens with magazines, TV shows, websites and radio stations. It’s been like that for a pretty long time, and it works.

BBC Radio 6 Music is a digital radio station from the publicly-funded British Broadcasting Corporation. It is almost the complete antithesis to the small-playlist, youth-targeted pop-focused station that is the BBC’s flagship station Radio 1. It purports to focus on “alternative” genres of music including indie, folk, rock, punk, funk, blues, soul, jazz, hip-hop and all manner of other disparate (but still “non-classical”) genres, though it doesn’t eschew the mainstream entirely. It is, however, the place to go if you’re tired of hearing a loop of Adele-Katy Perry-Maroon 5-Justin Bieber-repeat, and is regarded by many as a fine example of How To Get It Right. In fact, it is so well-regarded that when the corporation proposed closing the station to provide commercial rivals with more “room” in July of 2010, outcry from fans was so vehement that the BBC Trust rejected the proposals, noting that the station was “well-liked by its listeners, was highly distinctive and made an important contribution”.

But what, you may be thinking, does any of this have to do with the games press? Well, quite simply, why isn’t there a high-profile outlet in the games media performing a similar function to 6 Music? Why isn’t there a successful, “well liked, highly distinctive” games media outlet making an “important contribution” by specifically choosing not to let the mainstream dominate its coverage, instead preferring to delve deeper into the game’s industry’s equivalent of “alternative music” while still acknowledging the blockbusters exist? A site which focuses on, for want of a better word, “single-A” and “double-A” titles to the same degree that every site and their dog has been focusing on Mass Effect 3 for what feels like the last aeon?

The audience is certainly there. I can’t be the only one in the world who would rather read that site than bear witness to the increasingly-predictable coverage provided by leading games sites today. And should the site have the chops to prove itself as a go-to destination for this “alternative” side of gaming — to the exclusion of blockbuster-centric sites for those who prefer to avoid the big titles (or who don’t want to hear about them quite as much) in favour of slightly less well-known fare — there’d definitely be the full support of hardworking PR types. The BBC has the benefit of an established name to promote itself as well as public funding, of course, but there have been stranger success stories.

Food for thought, huh. Perhaps I should just start it myself!

#oneaday Day 766: Light Musical Entertainment Involving Tigers, Tents and Poo

I can vividly recall the first few times I heard the Bonzo Dog (Doo-Dah) Band. I was introduced to it by a combination of my partner in crime on teacher training and a good friend from my university days, and the sheer bizarreness of the music I heard has stuck with me ever since.

It’s not that it’s bad music. Quite the opposite, in fact, in many cases — many of the pieces by the Bonzo Dog Band are, in fact, very memorable and catchy, which is where part of their enduring appeal stems from. It’s just that I’d never heard anyone sing a song about having a shit, or extolling the virtues of spending time in a tent, or a song which featured a trouser press solo.

I thought I’d share a few of their greatest hits with you tonight, in the form of YouTube videos so everyone can enjoy them.

First up, Tent. I have always found this song inexplicably hilarious. I think it’s simply because he sounds so passionate about his tent. Also, there is a break partway through where people just shout “Tent! Tent!” as well as the most hideously inappropriate saxophone solo I think I’ve ever heard. In a brilliant way. PARP.

The Strain is a song about having a poo. No two ways about it. There’s no double entendre here, no attempt to hide the fact that yes, this is a song about having a particularly difficult poo. Why difficult? Well, listen to the “chorus”, which simply consists of screams of agony and coughing over the top of some entertainingly funky guitar and sax backing. And the backing to the second part which makes use of the saxophone to sound like one of those squeaky farts that it’s a bit of an effort to push out for fear of the fact you might shit yourself.

Jazz Delicious Hot, Disgusting Cold is the perfect piece with which to mock anyone who enjoys the chaotic sound of trad jazz. A self-referential piece parodying the band’s trad jazz roots, the track features some of the most spectacular deliberate terrible playing ever, including a clarinet solo that is truly magnificent in its ineptitude.

Trouser Press makes a mockery of the various songs in the late 60s and early 70s that took the form of “Do The [insert random noun here]”. It is the only piece of commercially-available music that I am aware of that features a solo on a genuine trouser press fitted with a pickup.

And finally for now, this performance of Hunting Tigers Out In Indiah [sic] was seen on the pre-Monty Python TV show Do Not Adjust Your Set. The song itself is actually a cover of a 1920s/30s piece by Hal Swain And His Band. The original version was non-ironically super-British, whereas the Bonzos version played this angle up to an absurd degree.

I hope these few pieces of ludicrous musical entertainment have brightened your day somewhat.

#oneaday Day 738: Diversifying

In a recent blog post, one Ben Goldacre described Spotify’s auto-sharing behaviour as “creepy” and called for greater transparency in opt-out procedures. While I don’t disagree that users should have the option of whether or not to share what it is that they’re doing, I do disagree with the good Doctor’s assertion that showing off your tastes to others is somehow “creepy” or “wrong”.

The reason I don’t find it either of those things is because of discovery. Spotify is built in such a manner that it’s easy to check out an artist or album you’re unfamiliar with in a risk-free environment. You don’t drop any money on the album directly, so if you wind up hating it, you haven’t lost out. And if you end up loving it, you can whack it in a playlist or star it for future reference.

Combine this ease of trying things outside of your usual comfort zone with social features and you get a powerful tool to expand your own tastes. Because music is an ever-present part of society these days — silence, it seems, is frowned upon by most people, particularly those of more tender years — conversations about what artists are awesome are less common than they once were in the age of buying CDs (and, heaven forbid, cassettes). Music is just there for many people — a disposable thing that people may well have a strong connection to but perhaps don’t always think to actually discuss,

What Spotify’s sharing feature does is allow you to see what friends have been listening to and, if it takes your fancy, jump right in there and have a listen yourself. I’ve discovered more than a few new favourites this way, and I’m certain other people will have been curious about some of my tastes too. I don’t have any objection to people seeing what I’ve been listening to and I’m certainly not ashamed of it. The same is true for Netflix, newly launched in the UK and nicely integrated with Facebook to allow you to share what you’re watching. On the whole, I’m much more inclined to pay attention to new releases if my friends are enjoying them rather than if they’re simply “critically acclaimed”. See: The Squadron of Shame

Goldacre suggests that people will make judgements based on what you have been listening to, and your playlists which, if you weren’t already aware, are made public by default. And perhaps people will — but the attitude I have always taken with personal taste is that it is just that: personal. If you’re the sort of person who ridicules someone else just because of what music they listen to, how they dress, or their appearance… I probably don’t really want to know you. Everyone is free to make their own choices with regard to what entertains them (unless, you know, if you’re into something fucked up and illegal) and so people should not feel ashamed or embarrassed to share what it is that they have been enjoying.

In fairness, it’s entirely possible that there is the scope for cyber-bullying among schoolkids based on what they might have been listening to with Spotify, or the content of their playlists. But there’s the scope for cyber-bullying based on their photos, their status updates, all the other stuff that’s on Facebook, too. This isn’t excusing it. However, it does mean that Spotify itself isn’t some sort of creepy bully-magnet. As with all forms of social media and teens interacting with others on the Web, it’s important for parents to be involved and aware of what their offspring are up to. If it looks like causing a problem, they should be familiar with the options that are there to protect people — and Spotify has those options if, for whatever reason, sharing things does become a problem. But someone’s listening habits are public by default — and why shouldn’t they be? There’s nothing to be ashamed of there.

Perhaps I have a naïve view of social media and sharing information on the Web. But I just don’t see how sharing your entertainment consumption is particularly harmful. Sharing deeply personal information, yes. But the fact that you listened to the Lazy Town soundtrack today? For me, that’s the start of an interesting conversation, not something creepy.

#oneaday Day 723: The Escapist

Escapism is cool, and an important and valid method of keeping yourself sane.

There are, of course, many means of escapism, and different ones are more or less effective for different people.

There’s the escapism of a child giving life to the inanimate lumps of plastic they own. Without a child, they’re just potential, models, things to be looked at, without life. Add a child (or, more specifically, someone still in possession of their childish imagination) and something magical happens — those objects come alive, engaging in battles to save the galaxy; heroic adventures; or even just a normal day in a normal street.

Then there’s the escapism of a good book. Good readers also have one of the most important qualities of a good creative writer: that active imagination again. But it’s partly also down to the writer to create a convincing world, compelling characters and a reason for the reader to commit part of their life to staring at tiny print on paper, e-ink or an LCD display. You know a writer’s done their job properly if you can hear the characters’ voices, see the places they’re in, picture the things they’re doing. And as a reader, your interpretation and mental imagery might not be the same as the writer (or indeed the person who designed the book’s cover) — but that doesn’t make it any less valid.

There’s the escapism of interactive entertainment. Instead of passively observing an unfolding story, you become a part of it. It doesn’t have to be an explicit narrative as such — a long game of Civilization tells a story just as much as a chapter of Heavy Rain. The meaning the player chooses to assign to the experience is what makes interactive entertainment special.

There’s the escapism of film. Increasingly designed as memorable spectacles these days, a good movie plunges its audience into darkness before casting them into a whole new world. It could be a world of giant robots; of CIA agents; of lads on a pulling holiday. For those couple of hours, though, the outside world ceases to matter.

There’s the escapism of a good TV show. When you find a show that resonates with you, you want to stick with those characters, to find out what makes them tick, what they want, what they find challenging. You cheer for their successes, feel bad when they encounter adversity. And given the amount of time you spend with the cast of a TV show over an average run of a moderately successful show these days, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that the cast might feel like “friends” by the time you’re through.

And there’s the escapism of music. Music is a powerful imaginative stimulus, but again it means different things to different people. For one person it might stir up dormant memories. For another it might encourage them to close their eyes and picture themselves in a whole new situation. For yet another it might have an emotional impact that reflects the things that are weighing on their mind at that moment in time. And for others still it might inspire them to push forward, to do their best, to power on through and do that extra set at the gym, or put in that extra bit of effort at homework.

All this isn’t even getting into what it means to be a creator as opposed to a consumer of all the above media, either.

The fact is, the world can be, at times, a bit of a sucky place. Having something comforting to escape into, whatever form that escapism might take, is important. No-one likes to feel trapped, so even if it’s only for a short while, escape into something awesome and return to the real world refreshed, invigorated and ready to tackle any challenges it might want to throw at you.

And if you don’t have anything like that? Then you need to have more fun.

#oneaday Day 721: We’re Gonna Live Forever, We’re Gonna Sleep Together

I have a confession to make. I enjoy musicals and, by extension, musical episodes of TV shows.

No, whatever social stereotypes might have you believe, this is not a euphemistic way of coming out as a homosexual. It is simply a statement of a fact: I appreciate musicals, in all their gloriously cheesy, camp glory.

After watching the entire series of Community, I realised that I had enjoyed the various musical numbers that pepper the series on both ironic “haha, musical” and non-ironic “hey, I’m actually genuinely enjoying this” levels simultaneously. Come on, you can’t say that this isn’t one of the catchiest songs you’ve ever heard.

I had a similar experience with the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode, which is, to date, one of my favourite episodes of any TV show, ever. And a YouTube comment just reminded me that it’s ten years old. Jesus. Anyway:

And this isn’t even getting into South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut, which is both a brilliant parody and a genuinely brilliant musical at the same time. Here’s my personal highlight from it, clear evidence that Trey Parker and Matt Stone have watched and enjoyed Les Miserables at some point in their lives:

After some consideration of all this, I figured that it was about time I checked out Glee. My only experience of Glee to date has been hearing the songs on the radio and, the first time I heard what they’d done to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’, wanting to kill them all, as tends to happen when I hear cover versions that really aren’t a patch on the original.

Having watched a few episodes of the show now, though, I get it. Glee‘s music isn’t intended to be listened to in isolation. Its overly-processed, super-cheesy, unconvincingly mimed numbers are meant to be watched as much as listened to, with intricate dance routines, cheesy montages and, in some cases, comically overwrought facial expressions. And when watching one of these numbers, it would take a hard-hearted soul to not crack at least a fragment of a smile.

Why, though?

It’ll likely be different for different people, but from my perspective, here’s what I’ve enjoyed so far — about both Glee and musicals in general.

I find them a satisfying experience to watch and to listen to. It’s difficult to pin down exactly what I mean by that, but let me attempt to explain. It’s to do with a sense of “fullness”, or all your senses being bombarded with something that is infused with emotion, however false it might be. In some senses, the exaggerated, stylised nature of musicals means that they’re a very “pure” art form — they’re light on the subtlety and heavy on the audience cues for how they should be feeling. It’s the exact opposite of the sort of movie where everyone mumbles and no-one moves their facial muscles more than the absolute minimum required to form words.

This “fullness” extends to the sound of the music, too. Autotune is, generally speaking, a great evil, particularly when overused, but when used effectively it can add a degree of richness and otherworldly “perfection” to a voice — particularly if said voice is then harmonised to high heaven. If you want to know what I’m talking about and own an iPhone, then go download the free Glee Karaoke app and sing the Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star tutorial song when no-one else is around. Then tell me that hearing yourself harmonised in that beautifully rich, inhumanly perfect manner isn’t at least a little bit satisfying. It sounds artificial, sure, but the very nature of musicals is that they should be stylised. It’s not just visuals which can be stylised, after all — there’s nothing to say you can’t make a human voice sound somewhat… well… inhuman.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me turning my back on “real”, “gritty” or “authentic” music. I’ve always had something of a soft spot for cheesy music, and music from musicals scratches that itch very effectively. Seeing as how Glee combines both cheesy music with one of my favourite “guilty pleasures” in TV and movies — high school drama — I’ll be giving the series a bit more of a chance. Coming to it with “beginners’ mind” and without the media hysteria that seemed to accompany it when it first burst onto the scene, I feel like I can enjoy it somewhat objectively. It won’t appeal to everyone, for sure, but it’s certainly providing me with some pleasing entertainment for the immediate future.

#oneaday Day 705: Jingle All the Way

Having just endured the annual musical ordeal that is Top of the Pops 2, I feel it would be remiss of me to not mention the phenomenon of the Christmas single.

They’re… Well, they’re not very good, really, are they? Even the well known ones. In fact, especially the well known ones.

Or perhaps they aren’t. After all, everybody knows the offerings from Slade, Wizzard, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, The Pogues and Mariah Carey. The songs are certainly memorable. But does that make them “good”?

I’m not sure it’s possible to really judge any more. Modern TV and radio exposes us to these songs on such a regular basis every year around the holiday period that it’s difficult not to feel jaded by hearing them so often. And it’s not as if they’re the only Christmas songs around, either; in recent years we’ve had a spectacularly depressing offering from Coldplay; a monstrous collaboration between Mariah Carey and Justin Bieber; and an actually quite good (if self-consciously ridiculous) piece by The Darkness. So why don’t we hear these other ones more often?

I’m not sure I have a definitive answer, save for the fact that it’s a vicious cycle. Slade, Wizzard, Lennon, Carey et al are all regarded as the canonical “classic” Christmas songs, so they’re the ones that get trotted out every year. In some cases, of course, these songs have been around for years, so they have something of a head start on more recent offerings.

This means it’s entirely possible that in twenty years’ time we’ll be hearing nothing but Chris Martin’s maudlin caterwauling and Carey and Bieber’s horrifyingly creepy collaboration at work Christmas dos.

That’s a frightening thought. Perhaps the dull droning of Christian hymns and carols isn’t so bad after all.

Merry Christmas everybody. 🙂

#oneaday Day 652: Music of Terrible Origin

Man. There is some shit music around at the moment. I feel like I’ve been pointing this out for some time — perhaps I’m just too jaded to enjoy mainstream entertainment. But man. There is some shit music around at the moment.

I feel bad — due to Society’s Rules — pointing it out, but a hell of a lot of it is from black artists. To quote your average Daily Mail reader, I’m not being racist, but… it’s true. At the gym tonight I ran out of podcast and Spotify had inexplicably decided to delete all my offline playlists, so I was forced to listen to the monstrosity that is “Kinetica TV” and watch what passes for music videos these days.

My conclusions? Man. There is some shit music around at the moment.

As for my “black artists” comment, I know it’s not a universally “black” problem, but certainly the white artists who also make shit music are almost without exception producing music inspired by typically “black” styles — or, to put it another way, the kind of music that gets celebrated at the MOBO (Music Of Black Origin — yes, that is a thing) awards each year. Common features include a minimalist backing that includes a repetitive but irregular drumbeat and a bassline, very occasionally accompanied by some repetitive synth or strings stings. Singers are typically autotuned up the arse and sing about girls, money or money and girls. Unless they’re a girl, in which case they use the word “choo” too much and sing about how empowered they are. Alternatively, N-Dubz happens, and that’s never pretty.

Naturally I’m well aware that there are plenty of talented musical artists out there — from all ethnicities — but the popular charts make for depressing viewing, and it’s from those that Kinetica TV draws its material. Like so many things — TV, video games, movies — the most popular music appeals to the lowest common denominator, and therefore is carefully crafted to not overtax simple minds too much. This perhaps explains why the songs in question are so repetitive and boring.

But is the British public as dumb as their apparent musical tastes suggest? From the ’80s backwards, the popular charts sounded markedly different — and both “black” and “white” music had considerably more in the way of imagination and originality. We had rock ‘n’ roll, R&B (in its original, more accurate, better form), funk, soul, jazz, fusion and all manner of other auditory experiences to treat our lugholes to. Now, we get Jason Derulo mashing up Robin S and the Banana Boat song.

I shit you not. Check it out:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CGF_Z3yZAo]

You’re just not even trying any more, Derulo, you huge fuckwit.

There is no excuse for this kind of laziness, and all you bellends out there who keep encouraging massive cocks like Jason Derulo to keep making music are contributing to the world’s image that the British public are a bunch of twats with no taste whatsoever. So cut it out. Do your part. Buy a good album today and stop encouraging these fetid pissflaps to make more monstrous music.

Oh, and stop encouraging The X-Factor to exist.

Sigh. An ultimately fruitless gesture. Perhaps I should just embrace it, download the I Am T-Pain app for my iPhone and make a banging choon that will be heard up and down the nation through the windows of Ford Fiestas with lowered suspension.

#oneaday Day 625: Communal Listening

I’ve seen a fair bit of negativity floating around surrounding Spotify’s new (optional) integration with Facebook — for those unfamiliar with the changes, Facebook now has a new Music dashboard which broadcasts the details of what you’re listening to from services such as Spotify in real time and provides links for other people to go and listen for themselves.

I’ve seen several people on several social networks decry this as some sort of gross invasion of privacy, but I can’t help feeling they’re missing the point in a number of different areas.

Firstly, the whole “Facebook privacy” concern thing is something of a moot point when you consider the point of the site — it’s a social network designed to let people connect with each other and share things, whether that’s a banal status update, what album they’re listening to or the fact they unlocked an achievement in The Binding of Isaac. What you share on there is, ultimately, up to you, and if you’re worried about your details being online then — there’s no simpler way to say this — don’t put them online. Facebook doesn’t belong to you. It’s never claimed to be a private network and, in many ways, locking yourself in a walled garden when using a social network defeats the object somewhat — if you just want to use it with close friends and family then you might as well just use email.

Taking the music thing specifically, Facebook integration is an excellent idea. Consider how we used to consume music in the pre-Internet days. We’d listen to the radio, watch Top of the Pops, talk with our friends. We might have friends over and listen to a particular band’s latest album together — we’d certainly talk about it the following day at school, in the office, wherever you happened to be spending most of your time. Buying a new album was an event — these days, music is just “there”, it’s just something to have on in the background and people don’t think twice about buying a track here, a track there without any thought of its context as part of a larger album. As part of this evolution, the whole real-world social aspect of music has been somewhat diminished.

Which is why embracing online socialisation is a good thing. Your personal musical tastes — key word personal — are your own individual thing, and there’s very little reason why you shouldn’t want to share them with fellow listeners. In fact, Spotify has always been set up to encourage the discovery and sharing of new tracks thanks to its Spotify URLs and ability to share on Facebook, Twitter and other services. The automatic broadcasting of what you’re listening to right now is simply an evolution and automation of the process. And, if you’re embarrassed about your musical tastes, then you can always turn the facility off.

Facebook is guilty of many things — pointless interface redesigns, a bizarre definition of what “Top News” is, fiddling around with settings behind your back without telling you and gradually building up a near-monopoly on the social Web — but one thing it has always done over the years is do exactly what it set out to do — provide an online social network with which you can communicate and share with your friends. The precise definition of what you can (and what is worth) sharing has changed and grown over the years — but why shouldn’t music be a key part of that? And why, if the infrastructure’s already there to do so, shouldn’t that process be automatic?

You’re very welcome to look at my Music page — here it is.

#oneaday Day 607: Musical Memories

In the last couple of places I lived, I didn’t have my CDs out, largely due to space issues. They sat quietly in boxes in cupboards waiting to be set free once again. Occasionally I had a sudden urge to rip some to my computer, then once I started the process I realised it took quite a long time, so often gave up rather quickly.

In my new place, though, I’ve got all my CDs out again. There’s some among the collection that I’m not sure I’ll ever listen to again, but it’s nice to revisit some albums that I’ve had for many, many years now — particularly those which I got back when I was at school, as these are often the ones that have the strongest memories attached to them.

They’re not even specific memories as such — simply memories of a time and a place, not any particularly special events. But I can remember when I got many of these albums and why — in some cases it was a simple matter of buying something that was popular at the time (and in some cases struggling to understand why it was so popular — see: The Verve, Urban Hymns, one of the most tedious albums I’ve ever listened to), others it was a case of thinking the lead singer was hot, others still it was songs I’d listened to on the radio so many times I was curious to hear what other stuff the artist had come out with and others still beyond that simply just because I was curious.

I wouldn’t say that as far as popular music goes I’m particularly “well-read” or whatever the popular music equivalent is. But my CD collection demonstrates an interesting cross-section of mid to late 90s music coupled with a few bits and pieces from the early 21st century — though around this point is when iTunes started to take over, leading to a decline in the number of physical products on the shelf.

In some ways, I can see the point that those people who prefer to still buy CDs have. The digitalisation of music has given it a more “disposable” quality, leading to people putting it on just so they have some noise in the background, not necessarily to appreciate what it is. Putting on a CD, though, kind of implies that you’re going to invest some time into listening to the whole thing — even if you’re doing something else at the time. This is because, as everyone knows, changing CDs is a massive faff to the lazy person of the 21st century, who wants everything at their fingertips and, preferably, controlled by their mobile phone.

If you’ve still got a CD collection, though, it’s worth taking a moment to dig it out and investigate the treasures it holds within. Sure, there may be some embarrassing things in there, but even those had a part to play in your past. Take a moment, dig out a random pick from your collection, sit down and listen to it. All of it. You might just be surprised at the complexity and thinking that goes into a complete album — or, then again, you might just find yourself wondering why on Earth you own two Spice Girls albums.