The Beatles…in Quicktime?

Screw you, people who dont like enhanced CDs
Screw you, people who don't like enhanced CDs

Last week it was announced that the Beatles are finally releasing thier catalogue on remastered CDs. It was a curiously dated announcement. You have Depeche Mode announcing iTunes passes, Nine Inch Nails announcing iPhone apps, and the Beatles are being remastered on CD.

Odder still was the little detail missed by most of the world’s press, that the CDs will be coming with short Quicktime movies with making-of documentaries about each album.

This is, of course, a terrible idea. I think of my copy of All For Nothing/Nothing For All, a Replacements compilation from 1997 that features Quicktime movies of the film clips. The files on there are no longer supported by the current version of Quicktime. Or indeed the last few versions of quicktime.

They could have done great webisodes, or podcasts, or sellable downloads of these movies. Quicktime? In their flimsy defense, the box set of all the albums comes with the quicktime movies as one DVD.

Which all brings me to the point that someone out there, steering the wheel on the digital yellow submarine, is stuck in the past. Will they pay dearly? Hard to tell with the Beatles – they are such giants. But it’s a tragic mistake – in a long career of reissue mistakes.

Lets hope there is more too it, and the Beatles can actually make it exciting to be a Beatles fan in 2009, not 1997.

Melbourne

A friend asked me to write a few thoughts about Melbourne for possible publication. Here’s what I wrote.

Melbourne must seem exotic to most parts of the world. But it’s most exotic to the people of Sydney.

The (two) centuries old argument of which is better – Sydney or Melbourne? – continues to this day. We may never have a consensus, but there is something about Melbourne that is like nowhere else in Australia. It’s little wonder that the rest of the country looks at it, and scoffs.

The biggest complaint about Melbourne is the weather. Decades before global-warming became a catch phrase, Crowded House wrote ‘Four Seasons In One Day’ about their adopted hometown. A morning can be so hot, you wish you could be one of those men who walk around without a shirt. That same night you will find your running for shelter as your socks get wetter and wetter. True Melbourners have learnt to ride it out. The rain wont last. The heat will go. The winds will pass. Change is normal for Melbourne.

It’s biggest compliment is the arts. Sydney has the film studios, the record companies, the government and business. But somehow Melbourne has wrangled the nation’s cool. It’s a city where creativity thrives. Cheaper than Sydney, it attracts the young and creative types in droves. And not just from Sydney, but from all over the country, and especially the country side. If your dream goes beyond having a big office in a skyscraper, then Melbourne is the city in Australia that can make that dream come true.

It’s almost an embarrassment of riches. So much so that even the locals will argue amongst themselves about what part of Melbourne is the coolest.

There is the south, by the water, which has St Kilda at it’s heart. A beach and a famous esplanade frames the area. The it follows a curve around the water, an inviting smile that leads you to another smile – a huge clown face that leads you to the tacky yet charming set of carnival rides known as Luna Park.

The south is relaxed. Days in the sun, on the beach or in the parks. Late afternoons in bars, or in the shops along the super wide roads. Even the sidewalks feel like they are too lazy be too close to each other. Then wind down the nights on the rooftops of someone’s terrace as the sun sets. Travel a bit wider in the south to find Prahan, with it’s hip clubs and second hand shops, which ends at the Astor – Australia’s greatest repertoire cinema.

But many would argue that it’s all about the north! The symbolic heart is the suburb of Fitzroy, with the long Brunswick Street full of all manner of shops. A down-home Asian grocery, an indie rock venue, an up-market pizza joint, an adult book shop – most likely in a row. And hey, why not have some street art that double as benches? It’s where the Melbourne art scene comes to show off it’s colours. Writers, musicians, students and more mingle in the cafes where you can barely find a seat that’s not covered with pamphlets and flyers.

Fitzroy at night is not as glamorous as some places but there is that Very Melbourne thing of choice. If you’re bored of the gallery opening, just wander down to the club that’s having a Japanese noise band night, or watch a local band at any second bar, or find a chilled little wine bar to melt away the hours. Sure, it’s a little pretentious, and maybe even a little proud of it. But it leaves the rest of us looking in, and only a hard heart will not have some sense of curiosity.

The north spreads out too. The Italian area, which has Lygon Street at it’s heart, has some of the best Pasta in Australia if not the world. And the art house cool of Fitzroy has started to drift north into suburbs like Northcote.

But it’s the area known as the City that is the heart of Melbourne. It’s a perfectly set grid – no winding roads here. This perfect grid with the big shops, and then smaller streets with smaller, cooler shops. I’ve spent so much time in Melbourne, but I could walk through a few thoroughfares, turn into an alley here, turn right that way, turn around there, and find myself lost. In the best way. Might as well sit yourself in a little cafe, or check out that little elegant bookshop. You’ll find your way out.

But getting a bit lost is the best way to explore. One of my favourite record shops (Basement Discs) is actually in a basement, below a cafe. My favourite cafe (Cookie) is above a second had record shop. You could walk right past my favourite Italian place without noticing it at all. I’m always being taken up some stairs, around a corner, to somewhere both literally and figuratively off the beaten path.

There are big things in the City too. The big shopping strip which is Bourke St runs through the heart of the City. Somehow they managed to squeeze a world class University, a seedy Red Light district and a Chinatown in there somewhere. Not to mention thousands of tourists.

Best of all, the City has yet to turn into a collection of faceless office buildings – although some parts of it are getting close. But it’s hard to imagine them knocking down the old train stations, the old theatres, the old expensive hotels. It’s part of Melbourne’s character. Again, it’s ever changing. You’ll find an old stone bank building next to a flashy new age sneaker shop, and back again.

And there is so much more. Just outside of the City lies two big stadiums. One is the classic Melbourne Cricket Ground (although you’d call it the MCG). The new and controversial culture park that is Federation Square. And the whole city is linked by the most Melbourne of Australian icons – the tram. It’s slow, it’s frustrating, it’s always full. But if you need to go somewhere and a tram doesn’t take you there, then you probably don’t really need to go there.

Oh, and a big ugly casino. And a murky river. And an international racing course. It’s all in there somewhere, all before you really reach the identical looking suburbs that belong to Melbourne in name, but never in style.

Maybe Melbourne doesn’t have the easy wins that a city usually has. No world famous structures. No great historical resonance. No big business mecha. But what it lacks in the One Big Reason to go, it gives back in the hundreds of smaller reasons. Any given day in Melbourne can be completely different from the next. Depends which way the wind blows, or maybe there will be no wind at all. Change, after all, is normal for Melbourne.

Australia – The Game

So it takes this to inspire me to write

Australia – the Game.

Yes, it’s a viral game about Australia, made to promote Australian tourism and Baz Luhrmann’s new film.

I refuse to let my home be driven to stereotype. Bad enough that the Ozmusic stand at conventions have blow up kangaroos. Luhrmann, how I have hated you for years, but this takes the cake.

When I grew up in Oz, I did not get raised on a farm. I remember the bicentennial, in ’88, and promoting of Australia as multicultural and modern. Larrikin culture, although having a place in our history, is as dated as the drunken Irish or pencil moustaches on Frenchmen. We used to be proud of our pacific nature. We used to be proud to be a young country, making our mark, with little burden of history.

Howard did more than anyone else to destroy this, and he brought back the white Australian Policy in culture if not in law. Australia is stuck – there’s no racial minorities on Neighbours or Home And Away, nothing in our culture that reflects us. It’s just an easily digested cliche.

The game has a Drover (as one newspaper put it, that’s Aussie-speak for Cowboy), chasing cattle around. Oh, what to do, for that country I love so much. Rehional Australia is dying a slow death. I’ve heard some commentators say this this summer will make or break. More farmers are packing it up, the culture is dying. And someone has put a $130 million bet that tourism is the answer?

There’s so many problems here. Someone has to save the outback for one. But that is such a huge issue.

Australia’s cultural image is still stuck in the past, and doesn’t reflect the 85% of the population who do not live on an cattle ranch in Kimberley. Yes, the Australian sun burnt landscape is lovely, but it’s really nothing but cool looking dirt. What about the culture, and the people.

The two films that most spurred on tourism in my time is Notting Hill and Amelie. Both were small stories, and love letters to something particular about a culture. Both were modern. And yes, both were cleaned up, idealised versions too. But both are also great movies (kind of) beyond their postcard nature. There was at least a plot.

Australia needs help. And maybe all is not lost. This could be the prog rock before the punk. Maybe it will inspire a generation of Australian film makers, writers, musicians, actors, painters and people to not sell a cheapened version of our culture. Fuck pandering to the cliche, I’m going to tell my story.

Anyway – enjoy the game. If you like driving cattle.

Danny

You only know where you are when you move

Start of summer has meant a lot of travelling of late. So much to say, and really, no time to do it. New York was amazing. Boston was heart warming. And me, I am tired.

I came back to a day of paint balling. Who knew pain could be so painful? Short trips, long trips, all sorts of random business to get me through the summer. My first year here, I sat around in Summer, wondering how everyone else got so organised. This year I’m getting there.

Again, no real point, just checking in.

7 and 7 is

A friend told me once, and it’s stuck with me, that men go through crises every 7 years.

Not saying that I’m going through a crisis (any more than usual) but as I approach 28, it’s been on my mind.

28 is a bit of a nothing age.

A bunch of us get married and have kids. A bunch of us start really making good strides professionally. You may lose one or two on the way. This looks like it will happen every few years ago. Maybe it’s just a big circle from here on in.

So is it true this crisis happens? At age 7? I don’t remember. 14 – puberty. A given. Rough times all round I think. 21? Sure. Leaving the safety of home and childhood notions of things. It’s scary.

But 28?

Is this related to what is known as the 27 club? Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Brian Jones are the most famous. But lets not forget Chris Bell of Big Star, a band I adore. D. Boon too. All haunted men. And to look at a photo of any of them, men I respect and admire, and to think that in any of those photos they are younger than me. Just weird.

Australian author David Malouf talked about a different 7 year theory in his book Johnno. In it, the title character explains how the human body completely regenerates itself every 7 years. All the cells that make you up, none of them are more than 7 years old. For Johnno, this means it will only take him 7 years to shit every part of Brisbane out of himself.

So is that a part of it? It’s because you’re someone new, all over again? Like a mini-version of Saturn’s return. Maybe you’re born again, every 7 years.

The last really odd ting for me about 28 is that there’s a song I love from ten years ago, about being 28 (by Tim Rogers). Funny how the 18 year old me heard that song, and silently became it. I guess I’ll be fully formed next year…

Danny

Since Page One

The BBC has just announced Steven Moffat will be taking over Doctor Who in 2010. It’s amazing how this guy keeps popping back into my life every so often.

I would be a different person if not for watching Press Gang when I was young. The story of teenage kids that ran their own newspaper, it was full of great plot twists, fantastic dialogue and…in Spike and Linda…shaped all my young notions of courtship and love. Every 4:30pm I would come home from school and turn to the ABC, and catch up with my friends at the Junior Gazette.

(Favourite episodes: At Last A Dragon – Spike and Linda’s first date. The Rest Of My Life – Spike is caught in a building explosion. The Last Word – when a kid with a gun invades the Junior Gazette. Day Dreams – an imaginary future for the team.)

I didn’t know anything about Steven Moffat at the time. I didn’t know that every episode was written by the same guy. I didn’t know that the vision he had also led to many awards being won. I just loved the show. It was easily my favourite show at the time, as a kid, and it inspired a teenage me.

Many years later, almost ten years later, I came across a show on late night ABC called Coupling. It was an energetic and exciting sit-com about 6 friends, and the adventures of finding a partner in your twenties. The dialogue was super smart, and the show format was inventive – one episode was a split screen all the way through. Another was the same nine and a half minutes repeated 3 times from different perspectives.

It made a big impact on me, at that time in my life. I bought all the DVDs and watched them all. And this is where I realized that the guy who wrote this show was the guy responsible for Press Gang. The similarities were there. The dialogue, the inventiveness of the form, and most importantly the romance.

(Favourite episodes: The Man With Two Legs – Jeff falls in love but ends up telling her that he’s an amputee. Split – Steve and Susan break up, leading to a battle of the sexes over a split screen. Naked – Jeff’s birthday becomes a disaster. Nine And A Half Months – the finale, and a baby.)

Friends and I used the terms pioneered in this show. The Sock Gap. A girl I could not get out of my life, we called her the Unflushable. As I was going out more and meeting more people, all those odd encounters, faux pas, and miscommunications were so well portrayed in Coupling.

He has written four episodes of Doctor Who, and they are easily the best four. The Empty Child and The Doctor Dances won so much acclaim – a kid wearing a gas mask in WWII, the introduction of Captain Jack and all sorts of goodies. The Girl In the Fireplace was such an intricate, beautiful love story that crosses time and space (with lovely French-ness) and finally Blink, which barely had the Doctor at all, but the most brilliant villains (don’t blink!).

By all accounts Moffat’s always been a big fan, and it’s heartwarming for me to see this man, who has brought me so much happiness, getting his dream. The point of all this, I guess, is that I feel this way at all. I feel like I’ve known Steven Moffat for so long. He was there when I met Linda Day and courted her. He was there when I got trapped under that building. He was there when I made a fool of myself in a bar with a pretty girl. He was there when I fought clockwork mechanical soldiers in the far flung future (ahem).

Anyway, good work old friend. Looking forward to seeing you quite a bit more.

Danny

Strum

So if you’re wondering why this blog is so blank, it’s because I have been focusing my writing energies on other things. One of which is the online revival of Strum, my old zine. Although revival may be a generous term.

This blog is by no means dead. I have some new pieces of the boil…

But check out Strum and tell me what you think…

Presently

I have not written for a while. Here’s what’s going on.

+ I have resigned from my current job and will be starting a new job
+ Doctor Who has restarted and it’s terribly exciting.
+ Winter is over. We had some snow, now the nights feel like they don’t end. It’s great.
+ I am still in love with REM’s Accelerate.
+ Have decided that Creedence Clearwater Revival were the greatest band ever.
+ Spending a lot of my Sunday afternoons listening to podcasts – Enough Rope, NPR Fresh Air, Sound Opinions, Prairie Home Companion are my favourites. I can imagine this quirk of listening to my talk shows will last me well into old man-ville.
+ Just tonight I’ve decided to give up trying to plow through the religious pompous crap that is the Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho.
+ So, I moved onto a book about the founding of Google. Once again, computers are the new Rock ‘n’ Roll.
+ French lessons have begun again. I actually think I’m doing ok. Don’t ask me to say anything.
+ Watched Millions recently and wonder why I ever gave up on Danny Boyle.
+ Catching up with my movies – Sideways, Little Miss Sunshine and more…
+ Saw ‘Jersey Boys’. Need to do more of that stuff.
+ Very much loving Popdose.com, especially columns like ‘When Good Albums Happen To Bad People’.
+ Started mucking around with Muxtape
+ Was good to see a lot of people after SXSW. Looks like this will be an annual thing.
+ Desperately trying to catch up with everyone.
+ Not been keeping up with the blog. Actually, I have been. I have been writing but not finished many things. Will do soon.
+ I’d say, 7 out of 10.

Danny
London

I Like What They Say

I saw Nada Surf play at the Scala this week.

Their 2002 album ‘Let Go’ has been a constant companion. I love a lot of music, but this is one of the very few records that I am always listening to.

My friend Simon gave me this album out of nowhere. He had an advance copy, and he’s one of those older guys who I always admired. He had not just great personal taste, but he could nail what records you would like with just a few simple questions. And he got this one so right.

I wrote a few months ago about Pet Sounds, and that funny relationship you have with an album you have known for many years. Not a record you loved for a while then went back to. But one where you know all the parts. When the band played Inside of Love this week, and that tinkly guitar part before that big last chorus kicked in, it felt like home.

The other odd thing about this record is that it has meant so many different things t me over the years. It started as a record for unhappy times. Lots of listening to this record in the dark, smoking my eyeballs out, feeling pretty crap. Then it became a dark party record. Songs like Happy Kid and Hi-Speed Soul were the soundtrack to my first steps towards being really, really decadent (in my own way). Sitting at a corner at Death Disco while they played another shit Strokes song, and then just giving into the moment. Those upbeat songs ran through my head in those moments. Later on, I decided to rip off this album in any way I could in my own band.

Even the individual songs have flip flopped over the years. Take ‘Inside Of Love’. It’s sadness was well soaked up by me when a relationship that meant a lot to me dissolved to nothing. And then shortly after, when I met a girl who also loved this album, it became a hymn of hope.

(And again, I hopelessly ripped off the riff to this song for own of my own.)

I told everyone I could about this record. I worked for the record company that was distributing this album in Australia, and every few weeks I would order another bunch of copies and just give it away. I paid good money for it on vinyl (with an alternate tracklisting – the record collector in me had a nerdgasm), and downloaded plenty of bootlegs.

They have a new album out. It’s called ‘Lucky’, and it’s been 6 years since Let Go. And I find it funny how many people ask me what I think about it. Even seeing Barry and Casey in Sydney, over a few beers, we had to get back and talk about this record. It’s just a part of my life, of our lives.

Lately, this record has come to be something quite soothing to me. With not a lot of drama in my life, it’s become a warning of traps I fell into in the past. If that makes any sense. It’s just interesting that this album has changed again.

Its also interesting when I think of the time I loved that record for the first time, there were other albums that I loved. Weezer’s Pinkerton. Belle And Sebastian’s If You’re Feeling Sinister. Even Wilco’s Being There, what I consider to be my favourite album…according to my ipod I have not listened to some songs on that album in over a year.

So that’s me and Let Go. I don’t really care if anyone else ever discovers this album. It doesn’t really appear on many greatest albums lists. But I’m thinking this is probably my new favourite album.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Let_Go_(Nada_Surf_album)

http://nadasurf.com/

Danny

My heart won’t stop

I am so tired. I’ve had a biggish night of dinner and laughing at a tv, some walking and of course a long day at work. I am utterly exhausted.

And I can’t sleep. It’s 2am, and I have been lying here for three hours.

When I close my eyes my brain still feels wide awake. Maybe it’s something on my mind, but this is usually the case anyway.

Its really quite horrible. My body is not in anyway wired. In fact, I barely want to get out of bed to get water or anything. I’m wasted. Yet I know I’m not sleeping.

This happens every so often. A lot less in the past year, but still several times a year. And I’ve eaten well today. No coffee since this morning. No soft drinks at all. Even had a glass of wine with dinner that should be soothing me. It’s not.

I even yawn. My eyes don’t want to stay open. My arms and legs sag, like bean bags in their own funny way. But the vicious circle is I’m trying hard to be relaxed. And after several minutes and I just have to toss and turn a bit. And we’re back at the bottom of the hill.

How do you sleep? Who teaches you? I vaguely remember primary school, and the counting sheep trick. That has never worked for me. how do you relax when you have trouble sleeping? Even more cosmetic things like pillows and what to wear. On your side, or on your back? No one teaches us. So I’m just guessing. I would like to know how my hair gets the way it is come morning.

So writing this has wasted some more minutes. The rest of the night will pan out like this. Around 3, 3:30, I will get really annoyed I’m not asleep. I will roll around and just try and force myself to plateau out. Around 4:30 I will start feeling really guilty about tomorrow and start trying to convince my body that it will be hurting tomorrow, that we have like four hours left. By 5:30 I will be thinking I might as well lie here for a bit longer and then go straight to work, nuking my system with coffee to get by.

Then by 6 I will fall asleep, and wake to my normal alarm, and feel like hell.

I can’t even do anything. I can’t read. I can’t listen to music. That is commiting myself to no sleep. I have to hope that somehow, some way, I will sleep very soon. I can’t miss it when it happens.

So I better get back to it. This could be the moment.

Danny