#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.

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 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 649: Collapse

I'm exhausted. Busy day at work, big lunch, long and tiring drive home. A mostly good day, though, aside from the twat driving at 45mph in the middle lane of the M3.

Lunch was good. The boss treated us to a meal at a local (to the office) Turkish place. I had calamari as a starter followed by lamb moussaka. It was really good, but it made me just want to nap for the afternoon!

On the way back, I listened to some stuff from Sbassbear, a musical collective on YouTube that are probably best known for their Game Grumps remixes, which are consistently hilarious and incredible in their quality.

Tonight I listened to two of their more "conceptual" albums. The first was GrumpWave, which was a series of 30+ minute lo-fi tracks with some of Arin and Dan's more thoughtful conversations overlaid. It was a rather contemplative listen, and I really enjoyed it.

The other thing I listened to was Fever Dream Radio, an ADHD nightmare of an album designed around the concept of a restless, anxious soul constantly channel flipping on the radio. It's a lot to take in but was frequently hilarious. Musical comedy is tricky to do well, because to really succeed you have to absolutely commit to The Bit, but Sbassbear has always taken even their most ridiculous compositions and arrangements very seriously. If you think you can handle it, I recommend giving it a listen in its entirety.

Oh, also we have no Internet at home so I'm writing this from bed on my phone. And on that note, time for some very well earned sleep!

#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 337: Lyrical Genius

Have you ever been on the website "Genius"? It's a site that hosts song lyrics, but it also has an annotation feature that allows the nerds of the Internet to highlight sections of the lyrics and post overly elaborate explanations of what they "really" mean.

I love sites like this, because inevitably you will stumble across people who take it really seriously, and that often leads to amusingly impassioned arguments about things that really don't matter. So let's have an explore, shall we?

Genius Annotation
3 contributors
Breakfast is one of the first things you do in the morning so if you burn you breakfast things are going “great”.

(As to why he’s making breakfast, knowing he’s two hours late for work, is beyond me!)

That one's from the second verse of I'll Be There For You, the theme from Friends by The Rembrandts. Elsewhere in the comments, someone points out that the theme song is sung from the perspective of first-season Rachel specifically, which honestly is not something I'd really considered before, but it would seem to apply for the most part.

Genius Annotation
1 contributor
This is likely a reference to being high on Methamphetamine, which is sometimes refered to as “Scooby snacks”

This one's from, unsurprisingly, Scooby Snacks by The Fun Lovin' Criminals. The downvotes are due to the fact that "Scooby Snacks" refer to ecstasy, not methamphetamine, and while the two share some chemical bits and pieces in common, they are not the same thing. Underneath, someone posted this alternative explanation, which I think I like a bit more anyway:

Comment by TiwakingTiwakingTiwaking, 6 months ago:

"Huey Morgan came up with lyrics about drug-addled bank robbers, an idea inspired by a security guard who handed out Valium to rowdy patrons at a New York City club called The Tunnel.

“On Sunday nights they had this crazy hip-hop party called Mecca,” Leiser explained. “There were fights and people trying to sneak weapons in, guns and knives, so the security guards were always on edge. One of the guards was a crazy dude and he’d be giving everyone Valiums so at least they were all chilled out. He’d hand them around and say, ‘Does anyone want a scooby snack?’ That’s where got the idea for the chorus from: what if this dude and some of his meathead friends were robbing banks, all high on these scooby snacks?”"

Here's some actual insight on MMMBop by Hanson:

Genius Annotation
1 contributor
Via Vulture:

Zac: “MMMBop” was started as a background part during the making of our previous independent album, called Boomerang. We were looking for background parts for a song, and somebody started singing what became the “MMMBop” chorus.

Ike: We were trying to come up with a catchy background part, and it was too catchy — like, “Oh, that’s really a foreground part.”

And some on Barbie Girl by Aqua, too:

Genius Annotation
2 contributors

The singer lives a life similar to the famous Barbie, where people live carefree, easy lives.

This line spawned one of the more hilarious court cases in music history, where Mattel, parent company to Barbie, sued Aqua for damaging the doll’s reputation. The judge ultimately sided with Aqua, leading to the now infamous ruling:

“The parties are advised to chill.”

"Oh baby, baby, the reason I breathe is you (Oh yeah)" from …Baby One More Time by Britney Spears prompted this discussion:

Genius Annotation
2 contributors
She’s addicted to her lover, and he’s the only reason she’s alive.

In 2003, 5 years after “…Baby One More Time,” Britney released a song called “Breathe on Me,” where breathing has less to do with survival and more to do with sex.

You know, I launched into this post thinking I would mock Genius and its community for taking things far too seriously, but a lot of these are actually surprisingly insightful. Maybe I should just pick something really stupid, dumb and obvious. Hmm.

Genius Annotation
1 contributor
“I need some love like I never needed love before.” The chorus erupts—a primal plea for connection. She yearns to make love, to explore every crevice of desire. Her past love was a mere appetizer; now, she’s back for the main course. The chorus repeats, a mantra of longing, urging her lover to set their spirits free—the only way to truly be.

This, from 2 Become 1 by the Spice Girls, is getting there, but I don't know. It's not wrong as such. It's just written in spectacularly flowery language, but then this is nothing unusual for music criticism, and I'm getting the increasing sense that Genius commentators would like nothing more than to be published music critics.

I was hoping that a song like Don't Stop (Wiggle Wiggle) by The Outhere Brothers would offer some gold, but disappointingly, there are no annotations on this song at all. I guess the lines "Put yo' ass on my face / I love the way your pussy tastes / Girl, you know you are the one / Take that ass and make me cum" are fairly self-explanatory, after all. Let's keep looking.

Okay, this one has a diagram. (Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!! by Vengaboys, if you were wondering.) Good work. But, again, neither wrong nor particularly worthy of mocking. What are you doing to me, Genius? Stop providing genuine value and a good sense of humour! You have no place on the Internet of 2025!

Genius Annotation
3 contributors

In this part of the song, Rick is saying that he will be loyal to his girl and, as the lyrics says, he’ll never give up on her, neither let her down, etc.

The chorus is remembered by a lot of people because of the “Rick Rolled” meme.

(Pie chart showing Rick Astley, indicating the things he would never do, including Give You Up, Let You Down, Run Around and Desert You, Make You Cry, Say Goodbye, Tell a Lie and Hurt You. Proportionally, Give You Up has the largest portion of the pie.)

Okay, I think we're done here. You win this round, Genius. But I will find you. I will find the most stupid annotation on your stupid website, and I will share it and I will mock it.

But in the meantime, I will probably just continue looking up lyrics on you, because you seem like a pretty reliable source for that and, with adblockers and all that shenanigans set up, you also don't appear to want to fill my computer with malware, so good job on that, I guess.

If you happen to find anything particularly ridiculous in your own explorations of Genius, please do share!

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#oneaday Day 313: Memories of Me: the curious intimacy of school concerts

As a Kid Who Could Do Music, I was involved in performances of various kinds from a pretty early age. I have fairly vivid memories of, as a primary school-age kid, participating in the Bedford Music Festival, at which I would play piano duets and trios with other equally young pianists from my local area who were studying under the same teacher. I remember taking the Yamaha YS-200 keyboard to my Nan and Grandad's house to put on "concerts" for them, complete with synthesised applause when I finished a piece. And, of course, when we had visitors, I was often asked to play for them on my piano at home.

It wasn't until secondary school that I really started doing a lot of public performance, though. I joined a number of the musical groups at my school, including the concert band, jazz band (known as Dance Band), orchestra and choir, and through being a member of those groups (as well as my solo performance abilities), I participated in, I think, pretty much every school concert that happened between me joining the school in Year 7 and my leaving it after Year 13.

I absolutely loved school concert night, for a whole host of reasons. Firstly, it was simply fun to perform: to take all the hard work we'd done in each group's weekly rehearsals and finally show off what we'd accomplished. I don't remember any major disasters happening at any time, either; the leaders of the various groups (also the school's main music teachers) were all pretty fastidious about ensuring we could perform things to the best of our ability, and they also seemed to make good choices of pieces that were appropriate to the overall ability level of the group as a whole.

For those who have never performed as part of a large ensemble, it's quite something. Your part might not stand out as the most important or recognisable, but every instrument playing something plays an important role in the overall texture and timbre of the piece being played. If you're playing it right, people might not notice you as an individual performer — though this does, of course, have the side effect that if you play it wrong, people will definitely notice.

For me, it was satisfying to be part of something bigger than myself. It was fascinating to see a rather tedious 3rd Clarinet part actually having some importance to a greater whole. And it was wonderful to feel a connection with the people around you, all of whom were there for a common purpose: to make music, to entertain people, and to express themselves.

I think this is a big part of the reason that I always found school concerts to be immensely romantic occasions. I've talked before about how, throughout secondary school, I fell in love with a lot of girls, and many of these flights of what were ultimately passing fancy started on the evening of a school concert. There was something curiously intimate about sitting next to someone in the middle of a large ensemble, performing with them, supporting one another. That feeling of connection was even stronger with the other members of your section, and particularly with your partner on your specific part.

And so it was that I inevitably came away from each school concert feeling like I was on cloud nine, not just for a satisfying performance that had gone down well with the supportive audience of parents and teachers; not just for the feeling that there was something in this world that I was good at, that gave me value; not just for the praise I got from my teachers, my peers and other parents, particularly when I performed solo; but because I had, through the music, enjoyed what I felt was an incredibly intimate moment of connection with another person.

I'm almost certain that my fellow 3rd Clarinet partners at various points didn't feel the same way, which is why I never attempted to "make a move" on anyone — not that I had the confidence to do that, anyway. But for that evening, that wonderful, romantic, evening when the school concert took place, I felt genuine happiness and closeness with other people, quite unlike at any other time in my life.

I kind of miss it. I haven't been a member of a musical ensemble for a very long time and my clarinets and saxophones haven't been out of their cases for many years, either. But I still have those pleasant memories; the recollection of the feelings that I felt at the time. It didn't matter that they were one-way or unrequited; to have just been there in the moment was enough, and that's what makes those memories intensely, deeply precious to me.

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#oneaday Day 279: Criminal Records

I sort of miss the whole ritual of buying music from a shop. You know, going in there, agonising over whether or not you really want to spend twelve quid on a CD from a band you're not sure you like based on a song you've heard so much on the radio you basically Stockholm Syndromed yourself into convincing you were a fan of?

Back when we actually still did that sort of thing, I had a fairly shameless attitude towards buying music, even though I occasionally got the piss taken out of me when I was a teen. This attitude started pretty early on, when the first music album I purchased for myself with my own money was Oasis' Definitely Maybe… literally the day before (What's The Story) Morning Glory? came out. After earning the jeers of my peer group for that particular escapade, I pretty much decided to go "fuck it", and just buy stuff I felt like buying, without shame. Same approach I take with video games to this day, as it happens.

That's not quite the full story, mind. There were still CDs that I saw in the shops that I knew it would effectively be social suicide to purchase, if anyone ever found out I did so. Generally speaking, as a teenage boy, anything by a boy band was right out, as were any of the particularly cheesy pop acts like S Club 7 or Steps. And, of course, the Spice Girls.

I maintained this feeling of warding off potential musical shame for a while, but then I went along with my parents to a party at my "Aunty" Sue and "Uncle" Peter's house. (I put "Aunty" and "Uncle" in quotes because they're not actually related to me; they're the kind of "Aunty" and "Uncle" that means "friends of my parents") I forget the exact occasion, but it was definitely some sort of celebration. And Aunty Sue and Uncle Peter had a big house — it used to be a school, in fact, but they were also rather well off.

Anyway, I always thought Uncle Peter was kind of cool in that way you never, ever mention to your parents when you're an adolescent, because declaring someone who isn't a celebrity but is from a completely different generation to you is "cool" is absolutely unthinkable.

The reason I thought Uncle Peter was cool was because as part of furnishing their absolutely enormous house, he had an amazing hi-fi system, and an enormous collection of records on various media formats (including several ones that were "weird" by the early '90s, like reel-to-reel tapes and 8-tracks) that covered possibly the most eclectic selection of musical tastes I think I've ever seen.

While Aunty Sue and Uncle Peter were setting up for the party, I happened to wander into the room with the hi-fi, where Uncle Peter was browsing through a big pile of CDs. And, to my surprise, I saw several "criminal" records among them — most notably the Spice Girls' first album, Spice.

I don't know why I felt this way, but something in my brain changed at that point. The thought process was something along the lines of "well, if Uncle Peter can buy a Spice Girls album and not spontaneously combust, would it really be so bad if I did so, too?"

So, not long after that trip and the party, I went out and bought myself a copy of Spice for myself. And I listened to it. And I enjoyed it! I thought a couple of tracks were a bit poo (interestingly, the tracks I tended to like least were the ones that had become singles, like Wannabe, which I still don't like all that much) but I overall… didn't regret my purchase, and listened to it a good few times. And when Spiceworld came out the following year, I bought that, too, also without shame.

I still didn't tell anyone I was buying these albums, nor did I do it in front of them, of course — I still had a certain amount of pride. But I also didn't hide these albums when anyone came to visit, nor did I attempt to concoct any sort of stupid lie about not knowing how they got there, or someone sabotaging my CD collection, or whatever. It was just part of my musical tastes at the time — which grew to be rather eclectic as a direct result of my own willingness to buy "criminal" records.

I sort of miss that. I still like listening to music, particularly when I'm doing something dull, but the thought of just putting a CD on and listening to it as a self-contained activity now feels almost alien to me. There are times when I consider starting to collect CDs again in an attempt to rediscover that lost pleasure of just listening to music as an activity in and of itself… then I remember I have a house bursting at the seams with video games already, and thus not really anywhere to put CDs, so I have to content myself with streaming, like most of us do these days.

My one hangover from those days is that even while streaming music, I tend to prefer to have full control over what I'm listening to, and I will more often than not listen to a full album rather than just putting it on a "Shuffle" or "Radio" setting. I still like that musical journey you take through a good album, but I do miss the whole ritual of buying the CD, taking it home, looking at the artwork, reading the sleeve notes and the lyrics and listening to the music intently and attentively.

I wonder if we'll ever come back around to that? There's already growing unrest and dissatisfaction with streaming video services, with some (including me) actually preferring a return to physical media. But can we go back? Should we? I don't know. But I'm definitely still tempted to rebuild that CD collection. I bet second-hand music CDs are dirt cheap these days.

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