April 2008 Archives
Last.fm. What is it? I don't really know yet, but I do know what it has done or me, and that is something very positive.
It is about 'loving' and 'scrobbling'. [JOOI, 'scrobbling about a bit' was something that I remember seeing on the "How" telly programme about 20 years ago - and it was about trout I seem to remember. I forget who the protagonist was - but I can see him in my mind's eye].
There is a Last.fm client, and yes, there is a Mac client, and all you really seem to be able to do on the client is to enter a musical artist or music genre and then metaphorically say 'go and do it'... And then what happens is utterly incredible. Mesmerising. Eye opening. Free. Joyous.
How do 'they' do it?
Why do 'they' do it?
What happens?
Ok, and example. I typed in, as an artist. 'Paddy McAloon'. And what it gives me back is a 'radio' station basically called 'Paddy McAloon's similar artists'. What does that mean? Well, it means that you have a streaming set of music, free, from (strange but true) artists that have been tagged as being similar. Simple.
Music from all eras, ages, genres, artists... Free.
It is like listening to the radio (obviously) knowing that you are likely to like what is played but without fearing any sense of sameness. There is no sameness. Instead you find yourself saying, yes, they are similar. Or, wow, there's a new fab song I'd never have heard through any other channel. Learning is everything. In this example, I heard long lost faves bt Kevin Ayers, Blue Nile, St Etienne, Lambchop......
I've a feeling that 'loving' something does something. Dunno what that is yet though. And somewhere I'll be able to tag and add to the experience of others. Not sure if the (simple) client makes that happen though. Maybe 'scrobbling' is all.
--
The last time I read a book in a day was back in 1985 ish when I read The Bridge by Iain Banks on the balcony of the flat that I shared in Maida Vale. Today I read Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki. Easy read and entertaining and a huge learning. A lot of common sense but a signpost down an important road that I was just about on anyway: buy assets; get rid of liabilities. Know the difference between the two.
I've found the rest of my cassettes. All of the ones I thought that I had, I have and they are here. Boxes now too as some of the labels are blank.
These though are not just mix-tapes. What you have here is:
- Mix tapes
- Cassette audio letters (including one that actually went through the mail - it has stamps!)
- Field recordings
- Loops for use in my band [Ordinary]. Loops, BTW are an obscure type of cassette that I got hold of. They came, I seem to remember in 30s, 60s and 120s lengths. I had all three. The 30s one was the best though. The Boris Karloff loop is from a film on the telly and was, is, brilliant.
- Field recordings from the telly.
- Field recordings that were 'interviews' with strangers. 'Lesley' was a cardboard sales-woman on a train to Manchester.
- Band recordings. 'Ordinary' was 'my' electronic / experimental band. There are also recordings here of Mark and I. 'Vindaloo Orchestra' was a band at uni ['Pink Trouser Strut' was about Tracey, my girlfriend at the time.].
My video compilations could have told a similar story, but they went in the bin quite a while ago.
It is obvious that if there are sites that help you, you are onto a winner. If it exists, someone else is into (onto?) it. I can see a business here. You are a customer. If you are, that is (a) like me and (b) 40-ish something and remember cassettes. And what you did with them. More soon.
Cassette art. Who'd have thought it? Not me.
It seems (quite rightly) that cassette art, mix-tape art, has now come of age. I wish (dangerous phrase) that I'd kept more; and kept my mix VHS taps. Not for the content necessarily, but that does have historical value, but for the art I bestowed on the boxes and labels. No boxes here. Maybe another day.
Next, I'll post some fake. Now they... are funky.
These tapes are real BTW. Some of them are 'communication tapes' that I used to use with friends when I was at uni (1980-83). Phones were expensive and you had to go to a phone box so it was impractical. Recording an hour of you (me) on a tape over a period of days was a fab solution. You (we) could record music, just talk, go on field recording trips... anything. Few survive in my hands, but there may be some in others hands - the recipients of the tapes - the end point for them was not necessarily me.
[NSTAC = no such thing as coincidence]
I went out for a bike ride today - the first time i've been out on my bike in probably a year. I went out to Dan's smokery, River Farm Smokery. To quote Dan "there's no river, and there's no farm...". Criminal that I hadn't been there before.
Anyway, Dan gave a me a tour of the place and I bought some cheeses and smoked chicken breast in the smokery shop.
The NSTAC is that I stopped on the way back to take some pictures of a rape seed field (oil seed rape field?). Anyway, there I was taking pics and a cyclist went past... and then he stopped and backtracked. I was still taking pics but aware that he was near my bike and my wallet was in the saddle bag... I looked over my shoulder and he shouted over 'We've got the same bike. Haven't seen another one in 12 years." He no longer lives / lived in the UK and was just visiting. NSTAC.
E, A and B at the Nene Valley Railway.
Fray Bentos is, yes, a town in Uruguay, but it is also the purveyor of fine processed, pre-prepared and very convenient foods. For example, they sell pies in tins. Which I would vouch is an extremely convenient way to sell pies. They have longevity; unbreakability; transportabillity; built-in cooking vessel; high-quality serving suggestion picture on he lid... all very important pie characteristics.
The pies have been around, unchanged I presume, for decades. The staples of children, students and tramps (that is, vagrants, not promiscuous women - having said that though, probably a fine and invigorating food for such active folk).
The pies have very important characteristics however that must be adhered to if they are not to become orbital, semi thermonuclear devices. Ergo, the lid must be removed prior to oven baking. Yes, these pies are oven baked giving them a delightfully thick puff pastry 'lid' that is nothing if not impressive.
Having no pastry base, the pies are very easy to slide out of the tin and onto a plate keeping the lid on top. Quite professional.
Mick and I enjoyed a pair of pies (steak and kidney / beef in ale) with suitable accompaniment (as per the 'serving suggestion' (we are nothing if not suggestible)) of thick oven chips and bottled peas. And brown sauce. And bottled real ale.
A tasty and traditional meal. Peas were a bit dry though.
A walk in the country.
Never go anywhere without a camera.
Well, the last meal in an interesting place. This is lunch at Moscow airport. It was absolutely fantastic.
Sausage, peas, red peppers and mustard. And a side-order of real chips. And a beer of course.
The cafe / bar was full of air crew. And Russian air crew are sexy and attractive :)
Handed out outside Metro stations...
I was in a museum by choice and discovered by accident what appeared to be original Soviet-era poster art. I have no idea if it was or not. But they were original works of art, but they might have been copies of other original works. There were brush-strokes.
I have a feeling that they were copies. The exhibition included post-Soviet poster art and that gave me the feeling that some of these were sort of 'competition entries' - what that that means...
And, crucially, there was an 'original' of THE Gagarin poster. And THE Sputnik poster. Whatever they were, it was worth it. And it was a miserable cold and wet day. And the museum was lovely and friendly and warm. I felt at home.
This seems to be the Russian equivalent of the Bedford van. Anyway, it's lovely.
The Metro is just plain beautiful. The only ads are on the escalators and even then, they are quite subtle. As you can see, the stations are stunning. They are all quite similar in style with the same vaulted ceilings and marble walls, and art deco-style lighting.
The signing is in all in Russian but on the trains there are maps in English.
It was decidedly odd being in Red Square. It is one of those places that I felt that I was 'familiar' with. Familiar from having 'grown up' with it. Or rather grown up hearing stories about it and seeing it. So, being there, I imagined the remembered May Day parades of military hardware. I worked out how the soldiers and their hardware entered and left the square - it must have been a Moscow-wide logistical operation.
I also imagined how anyone could have landed a light aircraft in the square (which an American did in the early 80s). That must have been quite a feat.
The square was bigger and smaller than I imagined. I also wasn't prepared for the fact that one of the sides of the square is a department store.
I did go inside the Kremlin (which means, I think, 'citadel') and visited many of the churches / cathedrals inside it (mainly to warm up - it was bitterly cold).
Next door to the square is an underground shopping centre which bizarrely contained many familiar 'western' shops. But also fur shops. There was also a cavernous net cafe where I did some email and MSN catch up.
The building in the picture below that has a big red 'M' on top is a Metro station.
These kiosks are everywhere.
Outside Metro stations they are often grouped to form 'shopping centres'. They seem to function a little like corner shops. Far from only selling cigarettes, drinks, sweets etc, they range in what they offer.
I saw kiosks that sold vodka and beer... others that sold roast chickens... others that sold pies and pastries, sausages... I often bought by lunch from kiosks - it was easy to point at stuff.
You have already seen the pictures of my host and friends at Boris' in Moscow. His flat was in the suburbs but as Moscow is so big (12m people) it was in fact quite a way out, but easy via the fab metro system.
It was raining when I arrived in Moscow. This was very disappointing. It sort of spoiled the romantic image I had of arriving and seeing it all white. Or in a blizzard. Or seeing Cossacks on horseback. Or Stalin. Or Roman Abramovitch.
The railway station, as usual, is quite beautiful, but quite spartan. It is the Kievsky station so is primarily for travel to Ukraine (the Ukraine?).
Unfortunately my WikiTravel printout (yes, I was sparsely prepared) did not have enough info for me to work out the exchange rate. Walking around the station to get the lay of the land did get me in front of currency exchange places, but my brain was addled and I was incapable of working out what the numbers meant. They did in fact show the $$ exchange rate.
Have I aklready said this? Don't arrive anywhere without the exchange rate or local currency. Hmmm.
I got cash from an ATM. 10000 Rubles. I got ten 1000 Ruble notes. My 'guide' said that these were hard to change. Must be cos they are vast amounts of money. So I put my card in again and got another 1000 expecting it to arrive in 100 Ruble notes. It didn't. Another 1000 note. Fuck.
I elected to get a taxi to Boris'.
Finding a taxi was quite hard so I just stood where I thought a taxi ought to be (the front of the station was a mass of 1000s of cars...). A taki-person appeared and asked me if I wanted a taxi (in gestures). I said yes in the same way.
He understood the address and quoted 500. This was, in my estiation, twice the going rate. So I said 300. We settled on 400. So, the first Russian I met I bargained with. Golly. Of course, I had no idea how much 400 was. At all.
We arrived at Boris' and I offered him a 1000 note (remembering that they are 'hard to get rid of'). They were. He didn't have enough change. Shit, this was obviously a very expensive taxi ride. So, I offered dollars. No problem. He worked it out as $15 (£8).
So, I had been done, but not seriously.
So, there are 50 Rubles to a £1.
When I arrived, Boris offered me a night of parties and clubbing. I declined.
As a gift I (ironically) gave Boris my 1/2l of Ukrainian vodka. He was genuionely pleased.
[Note: CouchSurfing gifts are not expected but local, from home, stuff is a good idea. I wich I'd taken Sue's advice on this]
He immediately gave me a key and showed me how it all worked. Not simple - doors have many complicated locks, and are padded.
Flat is small. Two beds, bathroom and kitchen.
It was raining when I arrived in Moscow. This was very disappointing. It sort of spoiled the romantic image I had of arriving and seeing it all white. Or in a blizzard. Or seeing Cossacks on horseback. Or Stalin. Or Roman Abramovitch.
The railway station, as usual, is quite beautiful, but quite spartan. It is the Kievsky station so is primarily for travel to Ukraine (the Ukraine?).
Unfortunately my WikiTravel printout (yes, I was sparsely prepared) did not have enough info for me to work out the exchange rate. Walking around the station to get the lay of the land did get me in front of currency exchange places, but my brain was addled and I was incapable of working out what the numbers meant. They did in fact show the $$ exchange rate.
Have I aklready said this? Don't arrive anywhere without the exchange rate or local currency. Hmmm.
I got cash from an ATM. 10000 Rubles. I got ten 1000 Ruble notes. My 'guide' said that these were hard to change. Must be cos they are vast amounts of money. So I put my card in again and got another 1000 expecting it to arrive in 100 Ruble notes. It didn't. Another 1000 note. Fuck.
I elected to get a taxi to Boris'.
Finding a taxi was quite hard so I just stood where I thought a taxi ought to be (the front of the station was a mass of 1000s of cars...). A taki-person appeared and asked me if I wanted a taxi (in gestures). I said yes in the same way.
He understood the address and quoted 500. This was, in my estiation, twice the going rate. So I said 300. We settled on 400. So, the first Russian I met I bargained with. Golly. Of course, I had no idea how much 400 was. At all.
We arrived at Boris' and I offered him a 1000 note (remembering that they are 'hard to get rid of'). They were. He didn't have enough change. Shit, this was obviously a very expensive taxi ride. So, I offered dollars. No problem. He worked it out as $15 (£8).
So, I had been done, but not seriously.
So, there are 50 Rubles to a £1.
When I arrived, Boris offered me a night of parties and clubbing. I declined.
As a gift I (ironically) gave Boris my 1/2l of Ukrainian vodka. He was genuionely pleased.
[Note: CouchSurfing gifts are not expected but local, from home, stuff is a good idea. I wich I'd taken Sue's advice on this]
He immediately gave me a key and showed me how it all worked. Not simple - doors have many complicated locks, and are padded.
Flat is small. Two beds, bathroom and kitchen.
It was much nicer than it looks.
For my last night in Kiev, I bought a few supplies in the supermarket including a good bottle of vodka and proceeded to drink most of it with Yevgeni. He cooked a modest meal which included some sort of pulse that wasn't rice or lentils but was similar to both. It was quite nice.
Basically, after my Chernobyl trip I had to get back to the flat and then get back to the central railway station to get the sleeper to Moscow.
Original plan was to take my bag with me to Chernobyl so as to cut out the 'back to the flat step. I'm glad I didn't try and do this as I would not have got onto the mini-bus in the morning.
Anyway, I was back at the empty flat at 8ish and decided to leave at 9ish as I had no idea how late the mini-buses ran. It did mean though that I didn't get to say a proper goodbye to my hosts which I was sorry about.
At the central railway station, there is a large booking hall that is heated and full of people. Not really anywhere to sit - all seats occupied either by old ladies with laundry bags (selling I presume) or soldiers. In the booking hall was a food counter / stall / concession. I had a 'meal' that consisted of two buns / rolls and a cake all for 13UAH (£1.30 / $2.60). None of it was particularly nice. Cake looked good but was grim.
Anyway, I sat on the floor, just like everyone else, and had a beer.
By now I am feeling dirty and tired and a little travel weary. Ignoring my $185 for Chernobyl, my three days in Kiev have cost me less than £40. And that includes eating out once, two bottles of vodka, and CD for Emily.
From the station announcements, either Odessa is a very popular place or all the trains going there have a problem. Either way, it is mentioned a lot.
My train (in the picture, it is the 00:24 to Moscow) is posted as arriving t 00:04 and leaving at 00:24. And that's exactly what it did. The platform was posted about 20 minutes before it arrived.
The carriage 'matron' not only wanted to see my ticket but also my Russian visa before she'd let me on.
I shared my 4-berth with a young Russian guy who helped me to sort out which bunk was which.
The sleeper car is all wood paneling, plastic plant (cascading sprays of plastic ivy in the corridor; small plastic plant in the compartment...), red curtains, lace net curtains... it was all very old fashioned and lovely.
The bunk is a soft vinyl bench and the bed bit is a futon-style mattress, blankets and pillows. The matron brought round a 'sheet pack' which all seemed to fit together to make quite a nice bed.
Slept pretty badly for some reason. Woken t 3ish when Ukrainian border guard appeared (as ever, signaled by the lights coming on and a tap on the door from matron a few minutes earlier). Ukrainian guard was a stunningly beautiful woman in full combat gear, big fur hat and makeup (at the time, the makeup struck me as odd, which it probably shouldn't have). She seemed happy with my 'papers' and said so.
Slept badly again until 5ish when the Russian guards appeared (why the two hour gap?). It got hairy at this point. I heard the words 'visa problem' and the guard dissappeared and someone else appeared with two copies of a in-Russian-only form to fill in and waved it at me and said 'how many dollars?'. So I started counting them (turned away from him so that he didn't think I was bribing him)... but this wasn't what he wanted. He gesticulated and snatched the form back and walked off.
At this point I started dancing with the UDL (Universal Dinner Lady - the provider of everything) big-time. Phew, she came good. The guard returned about 20 minutes later with my stamped passport and immigration document which he simply gave me wordlessly.
Woke again at 7am when my fellow passenger got off.
Got up at 9am. Had a wash etc in the 'bathroom'. See pictures. Was intriguing that all of the plumbing and heating fixtures had next to it a schematic diagram. Must have made maintenance very easy.
Stopped at a small station. Stayed 30 mins. Lots of 'sellers' selling 'cuddly' toys and dried fish. Fish was hung round the neck - looked like carp, perch and sturgeon.
Train doesn't go very fast. Or it choses to go slowly.
Basically, after my Chernobyl trip I had to get back to the flat and then get back to the central railway station to get the sleeper to Moscow.
Original plan was to take my bag with me to Chernobyl so as to cut out the 'back to the flat step. I'm glad I didn't try and do this as I would not have got onto the mini-bus in the morning.
Anyway, I was back at the empty flat at 8ish and decided to leave at 9ish as I had no idea how late the mini-buses ran. It did mean though that I didn't get to say a proper goodbye to my hosts which I was sorry about.
At the central railway station, there is a large booking hall that is heated and full of people. Not really anywhere to sit - all seats occupied either by old ladies with laundry bags (selling I presume) or soldiers. In the booking hall was a food counter / stall / concession. I had a 'meal' that consisted of two buns / rolls and a cake all for 13UAH (£1.30 / $2.60). None of it was particularly nice. Cake looked good but was grim.
Anyway, I sat on the floor, just like everyone else, and had a beer.
By now I am feeling dirty and tired and a little travel weary. Ignoring my $185 for Chernobyl, my three days in Kiev have cost me less than £40. And that includes eating out once, two bottles of vodka, and CD for Emily.
From the station announcements, either Odessa is a very popular place or all the trains going there have a problem. Either way, it is mentioned a lot.
My train (in the picture, it is the 00:24 to Moscow) is posted as arriving t 00:04 and leaving at 00:24. And that's exactly what it did. The platform was posted about 20 minutes before it arrived.
The carriage 'matron' not only wanted to see my ticket but also my Russian visa before she'd let me on.
I shared my 4-berth with a young Russian guy who helped me to sort out which bunk was which.
The sleeper car is all wood paneling, plastic plant (cascading sprays of plastic ivy in the corridor; small plastic plant in the compartment...), red curtains, lace net curtains... it was all very old fashioned and lovely.
The bunk is a soft vinyl bench and the bed bit is a futon-style mattress, blankets and pillows. The matron brought round a 'sheet pack' which all seemed to fit together to make quite a nice bed.
Slept pretty badly for some reason. Woken t 3ish when Ukrainian border guard appeared (as ever, signaled by the lights coming on and a tap on the door from matron a few minutes earlier). Ukrainian guard was a stunningly beautiful woman in full combat gear, big fur hat and makeup (at the time, the makeup struck me as odd, which it probably shouldn't have). She seemed happy with my 'papers' and said so.
Slept badly again until 5ish when the Russian guards appeared (why the two hour gap?). It got hairy at this point. I heard the words 'visa problem' and the guard dissappeared and someone else appeared with two copies of a in-Russian-only form to fill in and waved it at me and said 'how many dollars?'. So I started counting them (turned away from him so that he didn't think I was bribing him)... but this wasn't what he wanted. He gesticulated and snatched the form back and walked off.
At this point I started dancing with the UDL (Universal Dinner Lady - the provider of everything) big-time. Phew, she came good. The guard returned about 20 minutes later with my stamped passport and immigration document which he simply gave me wordlessly.
Woke again at 7am when my fellow passenger got off.
Got up at 9am. Had a wash etc in the 'bathroom'. See pictures. Was intriguing that all of the plumbing and heating fixtures had next to it a schematic diagram. Must have made maintenance very easy.
Stopped at a small station. Stayed 30 mins. Lots of 'sellers' selling 'cuddly' toys and dried fish. Fish was hung round the neck - looked like carp, perch and sturgeon.
Train doesn't go very fast. Or it choses to go slowly.
