Self-assessment in a moment of clarity

Depressed people don't want to die. They want to vanish.

Talk is cheap.

Sharon Stone managed to raise more than a million dollars in five minutes. All because she took action.

It happened in Davos, a luxury ski resort in Switzerland where a collection of the world's rich and powerful (including my own Prime Minister) are meeting. From memory this meeting happens on a regular basis - they come and discuss the world economy. With the emphasis on discuss, usually.

The main topic for discussion this year in this lush setting is world poverty.

When Sharon Stone heard that thousands of African children die every month because of a lack of mosquito nets, she decided the time for discussion was over. She stood up and offered 10 thousand dollars of her own money to buy the nets. She knew she could afford it. She then urged the rest of the audience to do the same because she knew THEY could afford it too.

Not every problem in the world can be solved by throwing money at it. But there are plenty that can.

Tori rations

I haven't actually talked about my favourite singer/songwriter at any length yet. Time to rectify.

Tori Amos will be releasing a new album, The Beekeeper, in one month. This is the only recording artist who has convinced me to buy her work "sight unseen", as it were. She could release an album of children's nursery rhymes and I'd still want to buy it, even if it was so I could try to understand her motivations.

Her last full studio album came out in October 2002. I made the mistake of listening to far too much of the album before it officially came out, via leaks and samples. I don't intend repeating that error. One officially available single, one song aired on a French radio station available online and one promo clip is more than enough this time, without diluting the 'thrill of the new' when I get to hear all 79 minutes of The Beekeeper.

Instead, I'm listening to her existing work, one song at a time.

I did the maths when I made the decision, and if I'm right then 3 songs a day from her previous albums (including the obscure Y Kant Tori Read, but no B-sides or other non-album tracks) will bring me up to the new album's release perfectly. So I'm quite literally listening to Tori morning, noon and night.

Restricting myself to one song is pretty darn difficult sometimes. Like all my favourite artists, it's the strength of entire albums that attracts me, not just a couple of hit singles. The benefit, though, is appreciating some of the 'lesser' songs and remembering just how good they are. A relatively weak Tori Amos song is still preferable to a lot of what I hear on the radio.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm overdue for my regular prescription.

Supply and demand

A few days ago I came across some research about the music industry by someone who until quite recently worked for the music industry. It read as if he left his job before releasing his research, by the way, so I don't think anyone was being vindictive.

I could have sworn I kept a copy of this research, but for the life of me I cannot find it. So you'll just have to trust I'm getting the basics right.

The essential point was that in 2004 there were half as many new CDs released in Australia as there were the year before (? - or it might have been comparing with a few years earlier, I can't be sure now). His conclusion: online piracy wasn't hurting sales, lack of choice was.

This is exactly the kind of thing that got me irritated in a previous post. Music companies stare at the bottom line, release things that sound as close as possible to the last big hit, and then wonder why we don't all lap it up gratefully.

Don't get me wrong, a certain amount of imitation of what went before is welcome, but only if it's done with flair, intelligence and an understanding of what's worth copying and where the point of departure should be. It's much the same as movie moguls seeing Pixar's successes and deciding that computer animation will guarantee a hit - despite the fact that every interview with Pixar I have ever seen emphasises that the script is king and computers merely the means of creation.

The optimistic part of me argues that 50% less music cluttering the shelves should make it easier to find the good stuff, as there's less rubbish to wallow through to get there. However the pessimistic part of me says that odds are some of the most interesting music was the first to be cut from the catalogue.

53 million dollars

I'm not sure if that's Australian or American, but that's supposedly how much it cost for George W. Bush to be 'inaugurated' into a job he's already doing.

Look, I'm all for countries having events to celebrate. People need big events once in a while. But why there should be such a big deal for an incumbent is beyond me. Wasn't his first inauguration the part where he set out who he was and what he was going to do? Why does he need a second go at this price?

Australian Prime Ministers turn up at Government House, get sworn into office by the Governor-General and that's it. Cost: well, I don't know exactly, but most of the people on hand are doing their everyday jobs. It sure isn't in the millions.

My point, I guess, is that there must be any number of better things to do with that kind of money. Aid programs spring to mind.

Poor combination

It's really very unfortunate for the one person to have a deep desire for human contact and a phobia about electric shocks.

Five kinds of frustration

I want to hit something. Hard. Without any skill, just a wild, uncoordinated blow that smashes the target into oblivion.

A scapegoat for all the other things and situations that I can't smash, but would dearly love to.

The thrill of the new: No.3

Pop is not dead.

Maroon 5 are keeping the flame alive with Songs about Jane. Someone out there will disagree with me, I'm sure, about both the classification and the merits. But to me this album is proof that slick, radio-friendly sing along songs can be good. More than good, let's replace that with wonderful.

By no means is it a perfect album. The lyrics are sometimes serviceable rather than inspired, and a few songs don't live up to their surroundings - "Through With You" in particular strikes me as something of a misstep. But on the plus side of the ledger, the first verse of "Harder to Breathe" is absolutely electrifying, "She Will Be Loved" and "Secret" are two of the most magical mid-tempo ballads I can think of and "Sunday Morning" positively BEGS for me to clap along with it, and smile at the same time.

If you can sit still through this album, I want to know how you do it, because just now I was dancing all over the house. And I don't dance easily. As long as Maroon 5 and various incarnations of No Doubt are around, I'll believe in pop music.

And blow me over if some of Jane's songs aren't rather sexy as well...

Snap holiday

Well, I'm on my own again because my father decided to go on holiday, dragging my mother with him.

I can only be thankful that I am past the point of "family holidays", at least in the role of child. My father's holiday-announcing habit was the bane of my summers growing up. Friends would ask what I was doing, and when, and I could only shrug my shoulders and tell them I wouldn't know if I was going away, or where, until a couple of days beforehand at best.

I know people who plan what they're doing a year ahead. Actually, I sometimes suspect my father is one of them, he just doesn't tell anyone else what he's thinking until the last possible moment.

He's like this with going to the movies as well. Other people can suggest things to see, and convenient times to see them. There's no way of knowing this information has registered until 20 minutes before the movie is due to start, which is when he will appear in the hall and ask Mum if she's ready to go. "Go where?" is the polite response.

I love my father dearly, but this kind of behaviour evidently irked me so much that I overcompensated, and often find myself explaining what I'm doing and my reasons for it in more detail than is necessary. Yesterday, for example, the person selling me Beethoven's complete piano sonatas received an earful about how I came to be shelling out my 70 dollars. I'm guessing all he really wanted was the damn money.

Fiona can be freed

Not long after composing my own little rant about the fact that Fiona Apple has completed an album that someone out there in record executive land believes won't sell, I went hunting for news and discovered there is a campain running right now to have Extraordinary Machine released.

Go have a look at www.freefiona.com, and please consider signing the petition!

Luddite pt.4

I've just tried to add this blog to a site called Feedster. Except it was already there, or at least one post was, but it still told me I had to add it. And I "claimed" it as mine, which worked, but then I couldn't get into it to edit the information about it and pretty it all up.

I am sooooooooo confused, plus I have no idea what any of this might even achieve in terms of beautifying this place and/or making it more accessible to people.

Anyone who thinks computers are simple has never tried to do anything more than play a game that someone else loaded for them.

The thrill of the new: No. 2

If there's one thing Christmas is always good for, it's CDs as presents. Every now and then my family tries to find other things to give me and I usually manage to politely but firmly put them back on the straight and narrow.

The album that has grabbed my attention is not one I was given, but one I bought with Christmas money. Radiohead's Kid A is hardly new, but it's mostly new to me with the sensational exception of "Idioteque". And the album is stretching my tastes a little further outward.

My flirtation with Radiohead goes back a fairly long way. I can remember sampling both OK Computer and Kid A in music shops to see if I could understand what all the fuss was about. The reports that there was a band changing style each album was the biggest selling point. On both occasions I liked much of what I heard, or at least was interested by it. However I couldn't muster enough confidence to actually make a purchase.

My vague interest continued, and was amplified when I discovered how many of my fellow Tori Amos fans also enjoyed Radiohead. The die was cast when I was fortunate enough to win a copy of Hail to the Thief from a local radio station. I loved it, and still do. It amazes me that one band can not only imagine such variety but pull it off without a hint of strain.

I've been collecting other Radiohead albums over time - The Bends, then OK Computer and now Kid A - which has helped me understand how they got to their current stage of development. It seems that HTTT is where all the previous incarnations converge.

To be totally honest, I suspect I may be in love with the IDEA of Radiohead as much as with the music itself. But there is so much to love. In addition, I'm already aware that my favourite music satisifies on an intellectual level as much as an emotional one - give me Ravel over Debussy every time - so it isn't that surprising that a band that displays it's mental agility is such a hit with me.

Kid A does contain my least favourite Radiohead track thus far. "The National Anthem" seems to have only one idea - take a repetitive bass line and make a lot of wild noises over the top of it - and it's not an idea I enjoy. Elsewhere, however, there's plenty of compensation. "Idioteque" is still a major highlight, creating something manic from only a handful of objects.

The other truly awe-inspiring moment is "How to Disappear Completely", which seems to me to be the kind of music you would want for a documentary about either outer space or the ocean depths. It drifts along, creating a kind of alien mystery. The basic notion of a sad song with acoustic guitar and strings is simple enough, but somehow this gets transformed into a thing of wonder.

If I knew how it was done, I could be making millions. Of course, there are plenty of people who can't stand this kind of music, but the ones who do like it seem to get pulled in as if by a magnet.

Hindsight

My last post should have been accompanied by the realisation that I was happy BECAUSE I was alone. For the rest of the week, every time I was forced to be in the company of more than 1 or 2 people it drove me completely crazy.

I read somewhere that introverts are people who are drained by interacting with others (whereas extroverts are energised by the experience). It's quite clear I spend much of my time being an introvert.

With strange exhibitionist tendencies, like publishing his thoughts...