David's Blog

Dave's Little Bit On the Side: October 2008

28-Oct-08: Scary Stuff

I've been having an interesting discussion with respect to selling stuff and our current sales policy with Susan Baird of Dreamaiden. The policy we apply (as best we can) is that this site is, first and foremost, an information site. We're not heavily into sales and selling stuff. I got bored with visiting sites that seem to do little more than ply the wares of their various owners, often applying a sales pitch that draws a fine line between a Gordon Gecko-style hard sell policy and desparation.

So, we made a concious decision to pull back from the hard sell and concentrate on providing an information service. We felt that others could do a better job of selling than we can. We also wanted to make sure that there was plenty of information about our various activities so that visitors have a good idea what we're doing.

What's happened? Well, visitor numbers are certainly up on this time last year though they're hardly spectacular. However, sales from our on-line shop have bombed. This could be because it's easier to buy from sites like Magnatune and iTunes though what we earn from those sites certainly doesn't mean we'll be able to retire to the Bahamas any time soon.

What we'd like to know is... What do you think? Does this site do a decent job? Could it be improved? Will you come back later? Tell us, we'd like to hear what you think. If we think you're talking sense, we'll do what we can to put your ideas online and give you a credit.

The main inspiration for this blog, as I may have mentioned a couple of times in the past, is/was Bill Nelson's occasional diary. Follow the link if you're interested though, for obvious reasons, I'd rather you didn't since his missives are (usually) infinitely more interesting that this load of old toss and we'd like you to stick around.

Anyway, I was reading Bill's latest entry wherein he details all of the projects he's completed thus far this year and, frankly, it put me in a bit of a total tailspin. He's done so much. Here's a brief run down.

Three instrumental albums

A brand new vocal album,
An exceptionally tightly packed Nelsonica limited edition album

A musical soundtrack for a documentary film titled 'American Stamps.'

Another feature packed Nelsonica convention

A solo set for Nelsonica

The creation of a song to donate to 'Sara's Hope Foundation'

A design for a limited edition Nelsonica watch

My immediate reaction was one of horror. I've let so many projects slip behind schedule this year - we didn't do much live, there's no sign of the new SkinMechanix and Ion discs, still no sign of certain sequencer projects I've been developing.

So, I've resolved to bump up the music production side of our operations to a whole new ball game between now and Christmas just to see if I can get a little bit closer to my goals. It's not that we've been idle buggers. It's just that time has this habit of sliding by whilst you're busy with real life.

One particularly nasty habit that I find distinctly embarrassing is my apparent addition to networked Tank Battle. I used to play this with my work collegues when I was at Caterpillar and the tournaments that followed pretty much took over our lives immediately after (and sometimes during) work. Such sessions were great stress relievers but they're hardly a constructive way to spend ones life.

I will do what I can to purge this habit though, doubtless, it will be replaced with something else equally pointless just as quicky. :(

Last night, Jules and I set about re-creating another piece by my ancestor Thomas Ions, a small composition entitled Havest Home. After that, we have A Christmas Madrigal, also by the esteemed Dr. Ions, to put together. It's a lot of fun and highly challenging.

26-Oct-08: A Cunning Plan II

The list of gigs for next year just grew a little bit longer although I've been asked by the organisers not to go public until given the all clear to do so. Better still, Newcastle Astronomical Society have agreed to endorse and support the new Outreach Programme I've been organising. With this in place, it means that we can begin to work with a couple of the local educational organisations with respect to the International Year of Astronomy, which begins in 2009 and celebrates the 400th anniversary of one Galileo Galiliee's first view of the sky with a telescope.

I'll post more details of these events as they appear. However, certain events won't be described in any detail until contracts have been signed and exchanged. This is because certain EM musicians and their partners have a habit of trying to bump participants from line-ups in favour of their own acts, which is a bit shitty, frankly, but this is the music business and stuff like this is pretty much par for the course.

On a similar theme, the phone rang the other night - one of my fair weather friends again. He'd obviously been reading the reviews of the Awakenings gigs and decided that he too wanted a piece of the action. Straight away, the patter begins. It's a familiar mantra. Can I put in a good word for him? Who does he contact? He has a friend who wants to get a record deal with such-and-such. How does he do that? I suggest that he gets in touch with me by e-mail. Then I can send him a bunch of links and contact names that he can call. The response is fairly predicable. His friend doesn't have e-mail. Can he call me on the phone instead? Or better still, can I call him?

It's at times like this that I refer back to a wonderful little document I keep on my desktop. It contains selected snippets of wisdom from The Notebooks of Lazarus Long, a fictional character created by Robert A. Heinlein. Lazarus is an exceptionally long-lived individual, estimated to be at least 2000 years old. Most of the details of his life for this two thousand year span are not disclosed, although he has stated that he has worked in practically every conceivable occupation, including (but not limited to) actor, musician, beggar, farmer, priest, pilot, politician, con artist, gambler, doctor, lawyer, banker, merchant, soldier, electronics technician, mechanic, restaurateur, investor, and slave. (He also tells of one point in time where he was the manager of a bordello on Mars. This sounds like a fun occupation but previous incumbents inform me that the place has no atmosphere and the tips are bad).

The Notebooks of Lazarus Long is a selection of catchphrases and pearls of wisdom, which were originally published as two "intermissions" in the 1973 novel Time Enough For Love. In the context of the novel, these quotes were selected from Long's much longer memoirs (which make up a significant portion of the novel). Some of the phrases are humorous, some philosophical, and some merely quirky. They range in length from one sentence to multiple paragraphs. They're a very useful guide to dealing with the trials and tribulations of life. Here are some of my favourite examples:

Learn to say No - and be rude about it when necessary.

Animals can be driven crazy by placing too many in too small a pen. Homo sapiens is the only animal that voluntarily does this to himself..

Sin lies only in hurting other people unnecessarily. All other "sins" are invented nonsense. (Hurting yourself is not sinful -- just stupid.).

In the case of my friend and his inconstant demands for help in resurrecting his musical career, the following quotation came to mind in a flash:

It is easier to deal with a footpad than it is with the leech who wants "just a few minutes of your time, please -- this won't take long." Time is your total capital, and the minutes of your life are painfully few. If you allow yourself to fall into the vice of agreeing to such requests, they quickly snowball to the point where these parasites will use up 100 percent of your time -- and squawk for more!

I'm not saying that my friend is a parasite or a leech. It's just that he's lazy and is constantly looking for a short cut. If that involves trying to ride on someone else's coat tails then he's okay with that. But the net effect is that he slows everybody else down and doesn't benefit fully from the experience of the journey and, as most experienced travellers will tell you, it's not so much the destination that is important. It's the getting there that is often the most interesting part of the adventure.

Later...

One item of additional news that popped into my In Box this morning - a response to my recent letter to the organisers of DundeE-Live. I wrote to them last week and apologised for being a right twat in my recent jottings. I explained that this is not my way and that I was, unsurprisingly, somewhat pissed at being dropped, through no fault of my own, from the roster. Hence, I was somewhat difficult in subsequent exchanges. I also explained that we've been friends for something like 15 years and I didn't want that to end.

I sent the missive early last week, Tuesday I think, and, alas, I didn't receive a response straight away, which I felt was unusual. I figured that they were just as mad at me as I was at them and left them to get on with it.

Their response turned up this morning. Essentially, we're all cool now. No hard feelings. They could see why I was unhappy with what had happened, and that other people had enjoyed the fruits of my (considerable) labour whereas we had received Sweet Fanny Adams. I wouldn't have minded at all had one or two of the other artists actually said Thanks! for the time and effort that went into creating their bios, for instance. As it was, only Ron Berry and Jez Creek expressed any gratitude. Shame. Musicians tend to be rather thick-skinned at times. Or rather I should say some musicians tend to be rather thick-skinned at times. Or just egotistical pricks, take your pick.

So, that's one less issue to worry about, which is good. My days of leaving a trail of deshevelled bodies in my wake are long over. It's not really my way to fall out with people any more and I'm glad we're still friends. Even if I was a twat.

22-Oct-08: A Cunning Plan

We began the year with "a cunning plan". It was a simple plan, straightforward, logical and well-informed. At the time, there were some misgivings but we were pretty sure that it was the right thing to do. We could either follow the same path towards total obscurity and certain creative death or we could try something different.

The cunning plan has been detailed in some depth elsewhere but it essentially boils down to a new direction, a new sound, a return to rhythmic, melodic, accessible electronic music and a renewed faith in what we were doing. These were the core decisions, the important concepts behind what we wanted to do and where we saw ourselves going.

We more or less decided to turn our collective backs on a scene that was on its last legs. Dead on its feet. We cut ourselves off from a large number of dealers and decided to jump on the digital download bandwagon. Instead of relying on a small number of radio stations, we began looking around for other outlets that would play our stuff.

We hit major paydirt when Magnatune picked us up. That was a good move and it's paid major dividends. They pretty much re-affirmed our faith in ourselves and became a major cornerstone of our renewed energy.

However, the most important decision we made, the one that I think now carries the most weight, was the notion that we would dump all of those people who had been pushing and directing our efforts for the last ten years. This was the big one. These people, that scene, were a kind of comfort zone, a small but faithful reservoir of sales that we could rely on to pay the bills. I listened to what they were saying and, at the time, much of it made sense. However, they were wrong. I was wrong. They were leading us nowhere. The biggest pisser is that I knew it too. And I'd known it for years.

So they had to go.

Top of the disposable list was a bunch of individuals who insisted - though demanded would have been a better word - that we create a retro album, a collection of pieces themed around the 70's tones and styling of Tangerine Dream. Why? Because that was what they, and their customers, wanted to hear. So they said. They weren't happy with what we were doing. They wouldn't promote the albums. When a new album appeared, it was stuffed so far down the list of reviews that you needed a miner's lamp and a pickaxe to find it.

Then there were the nay-sayers, a group of people who constantly banged on that EM is a little league sport - small, badly organised, no publicity. No matter what you do, no matter the quality of your material, no matter how much talent you have (or think you have), you ain't going anywhere because, well, you ain't. Tough. Live with it.

What these guys were/are doing is just reinforcing their own lack of success. They know they won't succeed so they don't want you to succeed. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. In screwing up your goals and aspirations, they're just validating their own script, their own life decisions, so that they feel comfortable sinking into the big, ole fluffy armchair on a night and dreaming of.... what? I really don't know.

If someone doesn't have faith (or even respect) for what you're trying to do then what's the point of talking to them anymore? You could spend time trying to convince them of your argument and I did but these guys weren't listening. Not for a minute. It almost seemed like they wanted to fade away into obscurity, to be a niche artist, to be a lone prophet wandering the land in search of other, like-minded souls who would convert to the true faith. Groan.

What I'm saying here is... if you have a goal and it seems reasonable, achieveable, legal, decent and honest, then do whatever it takes to make it a reality. If you have a bunch of friends and/or advisors who don't share your dream, your goal or any sense of doing something within the relatively short period of time you have on this small blue planet then, please, for your sake, dump them. Get rid of them. Find some new friends. Find someone who believes in what you want to do and is willing to help you achieve your goal, even if that goal is something distinctly non-mainstream like playing a Tibetal Nose Flute under water or going down Mount Everest on a tea tray.

This concept goes both ways. If you can help someone else achieve their goals then even better. You've done something positive, something worthwhile. Maybe it didn't amount to much more than offering words of support and encouragement, but at least you did something. This is infinitely better than spending your life on the sidelines, commenting on events which you didn't influence or direct in anyway except in negative terms.

The idea that I want to get across here is that, above all, you should listen to yourself, your own still, small voice. By all means, listen to the words and advice of others but if they're trying to push you in a direction that makes you feel uncomfortable or get you to make something that just isn't you then maybe, just maybe, you should tell them how you feel. Do so in polite, professional terms. Tell them that this is not for you, you already have a goal, a plan and a notion of where you want to go and how you want to get there and, whilst their advice and opinions are appreciated, this isn't the time to deviate from your masterplan. If they don't take any notice of how you feel and persist that you should do as they say, well, that's essentially when you should seriously consider burning some bridges. Just quietly tell them to, well, for want of a better term, fuck off. It's your goal, your dream, your plan. If they know so much, why aren't they out there doing it, living the life, earning the big bucks.

Ten months down the line and, with two notable exceptions, Generations (rescheduled) and DundeE-Live (totally arsed up), that cunning plan has pretty much exceeded our expectations. Sales are up, airplay is up, Future Forever was voted the best downloadable album of 2007 by the readers of electroambientspace magazine, we enjoyed two number one's over on Magnatune and we're now about to have our Awakenings Set broadcast (warts 'n' all) on a proper radio station. Wow.

In the wake of the total arse up that was DundeE-Live, I've started hunting around for more gigging opportunities next year. We'll focus on the smaller festivals at first, so that we can start to build a following, boost our confidence and get good at what we want to do. If one gig falls through or gets hopelessly arsed up by some witless incompetant then we'll have others to fall back on. We'll aim higher when we feel the time is right.

Equally, I've started to look around for some kind of representation, a management team that might help us move further up the ladder, give us better advice and perhaps encourage us to explore new directions and goals. I have an appointment to see someone later in the week. The prospect is thrilling but, at the same time, scary. It might lead somewhere, it might lead nowhere but at least we're up and running and not watching from the sidelines.

So, the cunning plan evolves and is refined, polished and repaired. Long live The Cunning Plan.

20-Oct-08: The End of all things

Last night, I decided to bring the whole T-Bass project to an end. Why?

There's been some discussion on the net about the similarity between the T-Bass and Ion tracks we played at the recent Awakenings gig, which led some folk to suggest that Ion is really T-Bass in another guise. If so, a clear majority of those who expressed an opinion felt that this was no bad thing, roundly declaring an marvellous "return to form" and that maybe the timing was right for a return to that style of ballsy, energetic, melodic music.

More or less at the same time, we received news that ARFm want to broadcast the whole Awakenings set, which is astonishing. This will give us something like an hour of airtime on a major internet station with a worldwide audience.

So, we felt that now was the time to concentrate exclusively on our active projects, specifically SkinMechanix and Ion. We tried to resurrect T-Bass last year but the results were rather poor or at best, indifferent. More so, guitarist Dave Wilson is now off doing his own thing and hasn't been in touch for 4 or 5 months. I think it safe to assume that there isn't going to be a reunion any time soon.

Hence, T-Bass is now officially over and done with. We'll still play some of those pieces at gigs and push the limited number of discs we have up in the loft but there won't be any further music from that quarter.

In many ways, I'm a little sad because it's the end of an era. However, this is also coupled with an incredible sense of relief. T-Bass was just dogged with misfortune from start to finish. We released a couple of really good discs that sold very well, and one rather poor disc (Connexion) that sold bugger all. It was gigging where the whole master plan came undone. One thing after another went wrong. We did a few good gigs - both Bridge concerts, Jodrell Bank and, to a lesser extent, EMMA IV - but T-Bass was best remembered for some of the worst EM gigs ever to grace a stage - specifically Alfa Centauri and the National Space Centre events. Alfa was my 100% fault. Hand on heart, I fucked up, but the NSC gig wasn't our fault. We were sharp and gig ready. Focussed. We'd worked hard. However, we hadn't expected a rank amateur on the sound desk.

Even with a number of good gigs behind us, as soon as a crap gig came along, we felt like we were back to the start and had to rebuild our reputation all over again.

We've moved on with Ion and SkinMechanix. We're finally free of the scene that did nothing but whittle away at my self-confidence and free of those folk who seemed to delight in undermining everything that we'd achieved. I think it safe to assume that the disaster that was Dundee Live has hammered the final nail in that coffin.

So, bye-bye T-Bass. Sniff.

Later... (1700 hours)

An e-mail has just arrived from the organisers of DundeE-Live. I've read it twice and I still don't fully understand the contents. It's just a garbled mass of incoherant ramblings. They seem to be patting themselves on the back for doing such a sterling job whilst at the same time doing the whole Mea Culpa ritual by way of an apology for screwing around with so many people. Most of the musicians have said that they enjoyed the event, which is good and, generally speaking, those who saw the gig enjoyed it, though there have been one or two who felt that they'd been ripped off.

Tagged onto the bottom of the e-mail is this line:

"But what I would say is this - Ron, Ian, Dave, Norman and Mark are all in the Newcastle area. They're probably the only 5 in the UK who can do a festival cost effectively and make it work in that neck of the woods - if they want to, that is (and my advice is - "don't"!!!). Newcastle - synth city!!! (At this point, Ian holds head in hands.....)"

I've talked to Jez, Ron Berry and Norman Fay about doing an event in Newcastle in the next couple of months. They've agreed, in principal. Could we do a good job? (Let's face it. We could hardly do worse.) Yes, I think we could. Whether or not we should is a different matter.

I've told the organisers not to send us any compensation. Both Jules and I feel that any residue from the event should go to those who took part. We're out of pocket but we'll survive and it's taught us three valuable lessons which I am happy to share with you:

1. Don't do anything without a cast iron contract

2. Don't get involved with a scene that is dead on its feet

3. Don't deal with amateurs

19-Oct-08: Bad Back

I have just pulled a muscle in my back and.... Good Lord, this £$%^&*$%^&*(%^&!!!!!***** hurts!

Proof, if ever it was necessary, that gardening is bad for you.

19-Oct-08: DundeE-Live: Update

The blog entries from the last week have been deleted for the time being. They will be posted again once we've sorted out some kind of renumeration because I don't want to piss off the organisers until this has been resolved. The ball is very much in their court. They've have agreed to do the right thing and a provisional figure has been agreed.

I've heard this morning that the concert went quite well but attendance was piss poor. Shame because a lot of effort and heartache went into rescuing the gig.

15-Oct-08: DundeE-Live: Exit Stage Left II

Still fuming from our unfortunate and premature exit from the DundeE-Live event, I decided that I needed to get away from my desk for a day. Too many bad vibes in circulation, all eating away at my soul. I was not in a good frame of mind and certainly not in the right mood to get on with anything that required much in the way of heavy concentration and a cool nerve.

I grabbed two dogs, put together a basic packed lunch and fled to the hills. Allenbanks to be specific, a National Trust property adjacent to Ridley Hall. Ridley Halld is the ancestral pile of the famous Bowes Lyon family, not far from the village of Bardon Mill. I first came here on a school camping trip when I was about 13 or 14 and has remained one of my favourite spots since then. However, in recent years, the National Trust have improved the pathways and closed off the more dangerous elements of the park (such as the overhanging cliffs) and, sadly, it's become a haunt for all manner of ill-equipped ramblers and occasional townie day-trippers whose idea of getting back in touch with nature is by way of a foil-pack, disposable barbeque and a 12 pack of Foster's Lager. Hencer, it's quite normal to see folk tramping through muddy, rain-sodden pathways in what appears to be their Sunday Best.

We pulled into the car park and were immediately greeted by a nasty surprise - a £1.50 car park charge. Since I hadn't got anything like £1.50 on me in change, we turned around and dropped the car off out of the way, just around the corner from the entrance to Ridley Hall. It was then a short walk back to Allenbanks and we were off.

Pooh couldn't believe her luck. Straight away, she set about ridding the landscape of any pheasants she could spot. Reo, something of an old hand at expeditions of this nature, just got on with the business of sniffing everything in sight. Sure enough, we quickly came across a middle-aged couple struggling through a particularly muddy section of the path, she in heels, he in a pair of brothel creeping beige loafers. I wished them Good morning and left them to get on with it. They did not look happy.

I passed a couple walking towards Bardon Mill, we greeted each other, as is the usual custom between hikers, and they were the last people I saw for the next 4 hours. Yes, peace, perfect peace.

I made for the Staward Gorge, a section which I'd never explored before. It was tough going and it took a long time for me to get into the right mood but, after a while, all of the bitterness, the animosity and the blind fury concerning DundeE-Live began to fade away, to be replaced with the raw, unrestrained pleasure of getting hopelessly, completely lost in the middle of the English Countryside. Part of me was sad that Jules wasn't here to enjoy the experience but Jules doesn't do mountain hikes anymore. The dogs, of course, were in absolute heaven, both of them running through the undergrowth, hunting, searching and, like me, wonderfully lost in their own little world.

We reached Staward Peel after about an hour and a half of easy walking. The hike to Crag Head was tough and uphill all the way with narrow, twisting footpaths and steep ravines that looked a bit too risky but the dogs are wise to these surroundings and seem to use their common sense when navigating difficult terrain.

After two hours, the roar of heavy trafic told us that we were close to the A686 so we paused to catch our breath and then set off in search of the Cupola Bridge. Before long, the path gave way to nothing more than an animal track and so I decided I'd made a mistake somewhere. Instead, we found a spot to drink coffee and then set off back towards the main path.

We found a perfect spot to eat lunch, a gently sloping rocky outcrop with easy access to shallow, fresh running water for the dogs. Pooh was straight in, right up to her elbows. Reo took it easy. She's nine years old now, and doubtless feeling her age in her joints. I don't mind that she takes it easier than the youngsters. I wondered if the water was too cold for a swim. It was okay, just about, though I was content merely to sit under a tree and watch the world go by.

Half asleep, I was enjoying the blissful isolation when I was suddenly engulfed by a pack of gossiping ramblers, their gapless, random chitter-chatter ruining the peace and tranquillity of a beautiful afternoon. Did they even notice me sitting under the tree? No. Not one of them even paused to look around. Too lost in idle conversation I guess.

The sky appeared darker and rain seemed likely. Past experience of the River Allen has shown that a small amount of rain up-river can result in a major flood further downstream and so I packed up our stuff and set off home.

We paused on the way home to photograph some impressive mushrooms and toadstools. Photographs like this are handy to have just in case one of the dogs takes a nibble. Most are harmless, some are not. That was when I spotted something unusual - a large, imposing tree, probably an oak, set right in the middle of a strictly regimented line of conifers. The lighting was stunning and I just had to take a couple of pictures.

I'm still not used to our Samsung camera and it took a while to find an acceptable exposure but I was successful. I felt that I'd been able to accurately capture the brooding, slightly menacing aura of the scene. Another group of ramblers passed by, equally oblivious, even with Pooh barking like a loon.

The return home was suitably uneventful, except that it rained quite a bit, which the dogs didn't like. I changed the route back to the car park so that we were mostly under trees and that the dogs didn't get so wet. It meant more climbing but wasn't nearly so damp. We bumped the coach load of ramblers in the car park, still talking, still distracted. I don't think they even noticed us file past.

The drive home was just as uneventful though the jam on the Great Western Bypass was a timely reminder that I don't miss that life one iota.

Back at home, I ran off a letter to the organisers of DundeE-Live. I detailed our expenditure to date, pointed out that we've been left something like £500 out of pocket (hotel deposits, kennel deposits etc, which were non-returnable) and that, through no fault of our own, we've lost the concert fee (£100) and all of the CD sales on the day. Equally, I created and supported their web pages for the past six months and never asked for a bean. They replied quite quickly and stated that they're very unhappy with the way this happened, more so because we've been hurt financially. I've given them a target figure, as a compromise, which they've accepted. So, it looks like we'll get something out of this sad, sad situation.

The alternative is legal action, which will be expensive but one option I intend to pursue. We discharged our side of the deal completely and yet we've been left badly out of pocket. With no contract in place, we're relying very much on their sense of doing the right thing. I hope that this will prevail. I know that they too were hurt by the closure of the venue not just in that they were forced to cancel our event but that they were also forced to cancel a highly profitable Status Quo tribute band that had been scheduled for the night before Dundee Live, which would have subsidised our event. My understanding is that they're going after the venue owners for some kind of compensation, which is understandable but, from experience, unlikely to succeed.

We'll see. For now, it's back on the horse.

14-Oct-08: DundeE-Live: Exit Stage Left

Last night, at roughly 930pm, we were somewhat unceremoniously dropped from the line up at DundeE-Live. By e-mail.

Now I know how Phil Collins' wife felt.

As was outlined yesterday, Health and Safety officials visited the venue last week and handed the owners a 3 page document detailing various faults that had to be corrected before they would allow any further concerts to take place. The feedback this morning is that the venue is unlikely to open for any kind of concert ever again. That's probably for the best, frankly.

The organisers tried to find an alternative venue but, sadly, nothing suitable was available at such short notice. The Dog House, not far away, was able to provide an afternoon slot lasting just 3-4 hours although this meant that they could no longer accommodate all of the acts. We were subsequently dropped from the line up on the basis that we hadn't performed at any of the previous UK Electronica events and priority would, instead, be given to those who had since this was, apparently, a reunion gig. There was no discussion. No phone call. Nothing except a communal e-mail.

Ian Boddy had already excused himself from the line up, probably on the basis that he, like everyone else, could see that the whole event had degenerated into just one big pantomime farce.

Similarly, Ron Berry stepped aside to allow others to play instead, which left Vietgrove and Modulator to play one half hour slot each. They've since agreed to combine their acts into one 60 minute set of improvised music. They have my best wishes and good luck to them. I think they'll need it.

I make no secret of the fact that I was, and still am to a great extent, very bitter about the way this whole episode has been handled. Aside from the fact that we're enormously out of pocket, we have nothing to show for months of effort. My gut feeling is that this event should have been cancelled and rescheduled for a later date when every one could play. This is a piss-poor compromise.

I, for one, am just glad that we're out of it. The whole business is just a fucking shambles. Will there be another reunion event like this? Maybe, but I sincerely do hope that they don't come knocking on my door again. I think it unlikely anyway.

Is this the end of UK Electronica? Yeah, I think so. The EM scene has moved on. Time to put this old horse out to pasture. Or shoot it in the head. Either option is fine with me.

Why?

Well, I was listening to a well known DJ on a well known prog rock station over the weekend. He was up on his usual soap box, pontificating about how prog rock had outlasted punk and how prog was vastly superior to punk in every possible way. Well, first of all, you have to ask "Who gives a flying fuck?". The whole prog/punk thing was 30 years ago. Move on, dude, you fucking dinosaur. Secondly, this didn't sound like a well-reasoned, well-thought out diatribe where each point of view is considered from the other's standpoint, where you weigh up the strengths against the weaknesses of the pertinent points. This sounded like some sad old geezy who couldn't forgive himself for getting old and grey. It sounded like some old guy who had backed the wrong horse, or bet on Newcastle United getting into the top six of the Premier Division.

In truth, it sounded pathetic. Nothing more than pathetic. The sound of a lonesome sixth former lamenting over a former love. Bollocks mate. Get a life, you sad old git. Needless to say, I switched off.

So, with the whole Dungdee-live thing crashing around our collective ears, what news of Ion? Is this the end? Has the dream come to an abrupt halt? Err, no. Jules and I have already agreed that we're going to continue with the Ion plan. We've had a lot of fun thus far and will continue to explore alternative avenues. I'm just a bit pissed that we got dumped in an e-mail.

This chapter ends. Another begins.

13-Oct-08: Busy

Jules and I spent Saturday afternoon in Gateshead's Shipley Art Gallery, followed by a walk around the gorgeous Saltwell Park. Why? Shouldn't be have been at home rehearsing? Maybe we should, but we had our reasons.

First and foremost, we needed to spend some quality time together, away from vets, dogs, shopping, music, housework - everything that is our main life back at Hughes Manor. The second reason was because we knew, with a kind of numb, agonising certainty, that next weekend up in Dundee is going to be very, very stressful and we needed to build some good times into the recent past to make sure that, if something went wrong, we'll come out the other side still speaking to each other. Memories of Alfa Centauri, you see.

The gallery was pretty terrific. The main exhibition was "Women", a collection of paintings depicting various females from history - Susanna and the Elders, the old Testament parable ofRuth, to the Greek legends of Andromeda chained to a rock being rescued by Perseus. Ruth looked astonishing - very real, very lifelike and very erotic, which was an odd counterpoint to the Biblical account wherein she is a measure of fidelity and dedication. I certainly didn't really expect to see a bare tit in such a context.

Susanna and the Elders was less inspiring. In the Bible, Suzanna is caught bathing by a bunch of lecherous peeping Toms and, because she is a paragon of modesty and virtue, refused to flash her bits or give in to demands for a bit of the old horizontal Mumba. Good for her. Except that, in the painting, Suzanna looked like a man in that her muscles were all completely wrong and her head looked like it had been Photoshop'd in from another painting entirely. I suspect that this was because female life models were hard to come by in the 1800's. Male models were easier to find so it seems likely that a guy posed for the original painting, which was subsequently feminised to suit the subject matter.

We enjoyed ourselves enormously. I bought Jules an early Christmas present, a book on Celtic Quilting, which was also in part, a thank you for all of the hard work she's put in over the last couple of weeks.

The walk around Saltwell Park was the icing on the cake. It's one of my favourite Victorian Parks, similar in look and feel to the Leazes Park in Newcastle, where I spent so much of my childhood. Just a perfect way to relax and forget all about life's problems. We stumbled across The Language Stone, a lump of marble covered with the message I Love You, spelled out in many languages from around the world. Like most blokes, I am little more than a 13 year old boy at heart and so I found the inscription "I SHITERU" extremely funny, so funny in fact that I took a picture for your entertainment and education though you'll have to wait until I recharge my camera battery's before I can post it up.

Sunday was a different matter. Up early and down to work pretty much straight away.

Jules got on with some housework, I got on with sorting out the artwork for the live album, which should be released at next week's show. I wasn't feeling especially brilliant about the whole concert. The little green worm at the back of my head has been twitching a lot of late and the notion that this gig might not go ahead has been very much at the front of my mind for the last few weeks.

However, as I was surfing my usual favourite hot spots, I happened across Gary Numan's re-designed web site and, in particular, the interview section, which had just been updated. There was one entry which made me sit up and take notice.

Talking about the experience of being a musician and being in a band, Numan writes:

"Finally, enjoy it. You are going to be living a life, even if huge success escapes you, that will be exciting and something that many people will only ever dream about. You could travel the world, see things and experience things you will hardly believe, for a while anyway. You will touch peoples lives all over the planet and how amazing is that? Most of all, you must always remember how lucky you are. I've talked to countless bands over the years who moan about touring, moan about being in the studio, moan about signing autographs, moan about everything. They have lost sight of just how fantastic being in a band is and just what a great life they are living and they totally piss me off. I love it, I want it to last forever and I never, ever take it for granted."

With these thoughts echoing around my (somewhat dull and empty) head, I went back work with renewed enthusiasm. Gazza is perfectly right. This is a wonderful opportunity and not to be sniffed at.

The first design for the artwork I came up with was dull. Boring beyond belief. After a short coffee break, I went back to the Mac and found a few more images to add to the melting pot. The second version, produced about an hour later, looked much better.

Next, I pointed iTunes at the ARFM server to catch Bruce Gall's Sunday Synth programme. Bruce had mailed me earlier in the day to say that he'd be playing Evensong from Ion's Future Forever and I knew that this would be a useful distraction whilst I got on with some web site updates that had to be released over the weekend.

However, listening to Evensong was spoiled because our neighbour, Joyce, who is suffering from Alzheimer's, had been found, lost, on Houghton High Street and had subsequently been retrieved by some kind citizens pouring out of St. Michael's Church. This happens from time to time and, with no family in the immediate area, they often come to our door for guidance. We usually call Joyce's family on their behalf and, a few minutes later, someone dutifully turns up to help her get settled in again. I didn't get to hear Evensong but that didn't bother me too much. I know what it sounds like.

After that episode, I linked up with my friend and fellow astronomer Simon Murray to test out the new Yahoo web cam interface we plan on using for some future lectures and maybe some communal observing sessions. Simon had his Coronado solar telescope pointed at the Sun and, straight away, you could clearly see a small solar prominence gently curling around the Sun's limb. Dan Swan, another astronomer, also joined us and we spent around an hour watching the Sun's surface and generally chatting about astronomy.

Then I went back to work, determined to sort out a couple of problems with the backing tracks. Jules joined me for a quick impromptu rehearsal, which went well, and then we got on with the serious business of colouring her hair in time for the performance.

We use Henna dye, which is a fantastically yucky process and something that I enjoy enormously. It's almost tribal - very archaic, very earthy, very organic. No nasty chemicals, no poisonous treatments, just raw henna mud. It smells weird. Not unpleasant but then not nice either. Earthy is the best word I can come up with. "You smell lak ma favourite pig!" I giggle in my best mock-Kentucky drawl.

Back into the studio for yet more tweaks to the backing tracks and even some work re-recording one or two bridges for the live CD.

After that, we sat down to watch the final part of the TV dramatisation of Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. Thus far, it's been very enjoyable, if a little morose. I saw the Roman Polanski cinematic version of the book many, many years ago but I couldn't remember the ending. Sadly, this turned out to be bleak in the extreme, with poor Tess left dangling at the end of a Hangman's rope. That left me pissed off and de-motivated. Hardly Sunday afternoon entertainment, eh?

Never the less, I went back to my artwork and backing tracks with the same sense of kiddy enthusiasm. I even found time to call my friend Ash Prema, simply to chew the fat over music, and certain musicians of our acquaintance.

Jules got on with dinner and, after an extended period messing about in the studio, I settled down to watch the movie "Zathura, a space adventure", which completely failed to hold my interest. I stuck with it for no other reason than the alternative was more studio work and my batteries were somewhat flagging.

By now, the house was full of the smell of hot bread and roast chicken. Jules had also spent the afternoon with a plastic bag on her head and was now attempting to wash out the remaining henna mud. This is a long, tedious process because the stuff doesn't come out easily. I helped, where I could, but it isn't easy. The stuff is very tenacious, especially when it's embedded into the bathroom carpet.

Finally, we sat down to eat dinner, later than usual and it was more than welcome. It had been a very busy, very full day indeed, not entirely without its frustrations but I felt confident that we'd done some good work and also given ourselves a good, solid grounding for the Dundee concert next week.

That was when the bomb dropped - a message from the concert organisers.

Evidently, the venue had been visited by the local Health and Safety people several times last week and the owners had been handed a 3 page document detailing all of the faults and failures that they'd found. There was also a strong recommendation that all future concerts be cancelled until the issues contained in the report had been remedied.

Oh bugger.

I called Ron Berry and told him the news. Ron wasn't surprised in the slightest. I mailed Jez Creek to get his reaction, which was much the same as my own. E-mails began to arrive from the other performers, all reacting with a kind of numb incredulity.

The organisers are currently attempting to find an alternative venue or get some kind of special dispensation from the Health and Safety people so that the concert can go ahead as scheduled. However, I'm unhappy performing in a venue with so many known defects though I'd like to know more about the nature of the failures before commenting further. A lot depends upon the scale of the problems identified by the Health and Safety people. A dripping urinal is an automatic fail but should it stop the concert going ahead? A blocked fire escape is another fail but, again, something that can be corrected quickly.

We'll know by close of play today (Monday) but, speaking personally, I am pretty fed up with the whole thing even now. It just seems so bloody amateurish.

So, I end this entry on something of a downer, a sad end and in direct contrast to a weekend that had a real positive vibe.

09-Oct-08: Cold II

This week has been all about meetings. Three long meetings. Three long days.

Was it worth it? Yes, of course. Monday was a Closed Guild Meeting with the Freemen of Newcastle upon Tyne, rounded off by lunch with The Lord Mayor. (I am such a name dropper). As regular readers may know, I'm a Senior Steward with the Cooper's Company as well as the Freemen's web master so I tag along, enjoy the ceremony and tradition and try, as best I can, to say as little as possible.

Tuesday's meeting was about a new web page for an existing client. This looks like a major project, and both challenging and fun at the same time. I love jobs where I get to push myself, learn new skills, develop existing skills, maybe even create something new and exciting. Bread and butter jobs pay the bills and keep the cash flowing but they're inclined to be a bit dull, tedious even. This one will be a challenge.

Wednesday was a review of a site facelift. The first version of the customer's site never really got off the ground, essentially because they never got around to delivering any content. There wasn't a problem with the infrastructure. The content just wasn't there. However, they've recently recruited a graduate who is now injecting some new energy into their marketing efforts and so the content is suddenly abundant. Time to jump into action.

Why am I telling you this? Well, we live in uncertain times. The banking system appears to be in free-fall, credit is supposed to be a problem and the media are all wringing their collective hands and predicting total doom and gloom until 2010 at the earliest, which is, incidentally, less than 14 months away so you couldn't really call this a long term problem. Some were comparing it to the Great Depression of the 1930's though that lasted many years longer and lead, ultimately, to the most destructive conflict we've ever seen on the face of this tiny planet.

However, common sense should be enough to tell you that the markets have been over-valued for several years, especially the housing market. We bought our house 10 years ago and, in that time, it's nearly trippled in value. How come? Ludicrious.

The FTSE has been rising steadily for the last couple of years on the back of an economy that is/was being held together by service industries. This administration, and its predecessors, have allowed market forces to govern the success and failure of manufacturing industry, which is the way it should be when you think of it. But manufacturing isn't anything like as strong as it used to be. That whole sector has dropped to away to a shadow of its former self. Why? It's because society, as a whole, that seems to have an issue with factory jobs. They're seen as grim and dirty, and a poor alternative to working in a posh office. Perhaps society is right?

My guts tell me that what we're seeing at the moment is just a periodic adjustment. Historically, these happen every 30 years or so, the last being in the late 70's when everything went to hell in a handcart. Remember that? The price of oil went through the roof, credit became hard to come by, confidence in teh banking system fell away etc. Does this sound familiar?

More so, the TV pundits seem determined to talk us all into a recession though most of these TV pundits apparently have a short memory. Or is it that they just haven't done enough research? More than anything else, seem to delight in wringing their collective hands in a kind of mock despair that is designed to make you think the world is about to end. In fact, this adjustment was predicted several years ago. Lots of economists felt that the credit bubble, like the dotCom bubble before it, was about to burst. Did the world end when the dotComs went to the wall? No, it didn't. A lot of people lost a lot of money but, generally speaking, the world didn't end. Did anyone pay any attention to the warnings that the credit bubble was about to burst? No, they didn't, and a lot of people are going to lose and/or have lost a lot of money. Generally speaking, the world isn't going to end.

So, beware of pundits, especially TV pundits who clearly don't know what they're talking about. In particular, we should reserve a special place in Dante's Seventh Circle of Hell for those TV pundits who gleefully predicted that Newcastle United Football Club were destined for great things at the start of the new season. Just shows how wrong you can be and still hang on to your job.

We're being told that times are hard, and they are. Make no mistake. We're in for a rough spell. A lot will change but then change is inevitable. Just ride with it and see where it goes.

08-Oct-08: Cold II

Not long after the Awakenings gig, I started to get the odd snuffle often followed by a somewhat wild and unpredictable sneezing fit, usually in public, frequently hilarious. (Have you ever noticed how many people tiurn and stare whenever someone has a sneezing fit in public? It's like a one-man/women vaudeville act...) Worse still, I felt like crud - buzzy head, sore eyes, tickly throat. I felt sure that I'd picked something up from one of the guests at the gig. These are all typical symptoms of a snitty little head cold and I wasn't at all surprised when the streaming began on Sunday night.

Jules knows what I'm like with a head cold and the term Man Flu has been bandied about a lot in recent days, along with several loud guffaws and hints that I might just be swinging the lead. Mercifully, it wasn't a really bad cold and it didn't stop me going to any of the three extended meetings I have this week although, on reflection, maybe it should.

In the good old days, no matter my physical condition, I would turn up for work. Yeah, a real desktop martyr. I would sit in a corner feeling miserable, trying to get on with something useful, attempting in vain to stem the flow of liquid misery from my nose. People would avoid me but, ever the dedicated company man, I would wear my illness as a badge of pride, something to be proud of, loudly declaring "Look at me as I nail myself to the company's cross!".

Of course, I was labouring under the assumption that such behaviour would earn me extra brownie points in the eyes of your boss for being a good worker but, alas, it doesn't actually work that way. In truth, and this may be hard for your ego to take, your boss just thinks you're an ass-kisser. Plain and simple. An ass-kisser. He knows, just the same as you do, that you really should be at home, resting up in front of the TV. Why? Because he doesn't want to breathe in your filthy germs, that's why! Equally, your co-workers think you're a moron, a born-again village idiot. Why? Because your highly diligent and company-minded behaviour means that they are less able to put in a sickie when they next feel the urge to remain sofa-bound, perhaps due to a hangover, or maybe when England are next playing Germany at home.

These days, life is different. I used to loath head colds. Now I just accept them for what they are - nature's way of making me slow down. Usually, I just wrap up warm and fall into a deep pit of despair on the couch, taking whatever comfort I can from the deep and sincere pleasure that can only be derived from wallowing in your own earthly misery.

Today, the cold is past is worst. Indeed, it never really got started, for which I am grateful. I just hope I didn't pass it on to anyone else.

I spent last night in the studio reworking our backing tracks for the Dundee Live gig. I removed a couple of glitches, and added smoother transitions between several pieces, so that the flow one into the other. This also removes the gaps we'd left for audience applause, which wasn't particularly energetic at the Awakenings event. I also corrected the ugly jump in the introduction to Logoscape and changed the running order, switching Flying Over Blue Waters and Recover to improve the energy and balance of the concert. I also put together the artwork for the proposed CD release. This will be a one-off disc, available only at the event, as a thank you to those folk brave enough to come so far north. It won't be available elsewhere, either in our on-line shop or via download.

03-Oct-08: Cold

"Ahhhh... Winter draws on", as my Grandmother used to say. This is the first really cold day in a long time so I guess winter is almost upon us.

I love Autumn. Aside from the usual change in colours, there's a biting freshness in the air that reminds you that those halcyon summer days are long gone and the icy chill of Winter is just around the corner. I used to relish my long walks home from school at this time of year. The darkness excludes all but the most immediate of distractions, filters out the green and the bright, leaving you to a world of grey and black. This is why I still like long walks. They're good for the soul. They give you a chance to think, clear your mind, find yourself, maybe even let that still, small voice sing through. Thirty years on, those walks home are much missed. Every now and again, I get the urge to retrace those footsteps, to see if I can recapture some of that magic.

The only aspect of those walks that I don't miss is the weight of my school bag slung over my right shoulder. Every night, fully laden with books and homework and numerous other forms of schoolboy detritus, I would plod towards home with that terrible weight dragging me down, curving my spine into some kind of teenage Quasimodo. I think it took 10 years for my arm to recover from that abuse.

And I often wonder what became of that stuff - all of those school books, all of those papers, all those magazines? It seemed so important at the time and yet there's so little of it left.

We spent some time last night listening to the sound desk recording of Saturday's concert, warts and all. By and large, it's not too bad. There are some obvious fluffs - I cocked up both 10000 Maniacs and Flying Over Blue Waters but not in a huge way. Not so much nerves, I suspect. More a lack of concentration on my part. Still, it all serves to prove that it was live and not just running off to tape. I have some issues with the backing track. It skips on the intro to Logoscape (not sure why), it's uneven in places and there are some very pregnant pauses (with corresponding images of tumbleweed) where we expected the audience to applaud and they didn't. I'll fix those over the weekend.

Equally, I need to get a disc put together for sale at the Dundee gig. This is proving to be an expensive trip out. I know we said this whole enterprise wasn't about money anymore but I still have to think about balancing the books, especially when the playing fee is so bloody small, and hotels and hire cars have to be paid for. The disc will be composed of live tracks from the gig (Future Forever is cracking!) plus some rehearsal takes of the tracks I cocked up especially on Recover where I was playing all the right notes but so hopelessly off the beat that it makes me wonder what I was hearing at the time. Echoes off the back wall perhaps? It happens, and probably because I forgot to turn up the backing again after Altitude.

I'm currently stuck for a title for this disc. The only title that keeps coming back to me time and time again is Pagent, probably because the venue was Paget High School. I think this title sucks but it will do until another presents itself. Logoscape is one contender. Yeah, I think Logoscape is the one.

Jules commented that, in most of the concert pictures, she's at the front, facing the audience whereas I am often facing the other way and/or sitting down, out of sight. She wanted to know if this was a concious decision, a deliberate attempt to hide myself away. Well, yes, it was. I've felt for a long time that both T-Bass and SkinMechanix suffered because of front man syndrome. Was I trying to be a Star? The Star? Yes, I think so. Hand on heart, I think that's what happened. And so, for this gig, I decided take more of a backseat, to stay out of the limelight and let the music speak for itself. That seems to have worked.

Equally, I decided to slacken off on the screaming Currie-esque solos and let the more subtle elements come through. I felt that the audience would be more likely to sit up and take notice if the heavy rock pieces are used less frequently. It's like being hit over the head with a sledgehammer. It's nice when it stops.