Thursday, 13 May 2021

Why Boys Played Guitars (or DJ Now)

A while ago, someone was kind enough to leave me this comment on my Streaming Economics post...
"What's the point of providing music to people if the artists don't make money from it?" You are assuming the main reason people make music is money. It isn't. At least it isn't for men. Every teenage boy who ever picked up a guitar did it because he wanted to be cool and get all the girls. What would Mick Jagger's notch count be today if he'd continued studying accountancy as a young man? Of course, he enjoys his vast fortune now but that was never the original motivation.
Well, I picked up a guitar as a teenage boy, and it wasn't so I could be cool and get all the girls. I have no idea why I did it. I had played the descant and treble recorders at Junior School, and started on the guitar with lessons. Junior School. Boys aren't doing things to impress girls in Junior School. Well, not back then anyway. Why? Because 'Music' was a subject in Junior Schools at the time. We learned to sight-read, and we played the recorder. Perhaps at posher schools they had a wider range of instruments. 'Art' was a subject as well. I was terrible at it, but it was a subject. Music didn't happen in Secondary School, but Art did.

I think I picked up the guitar again when I was a teenage boy, and I did that because that's what I thought I should do to be whoever I had no idea I was at the time. My first goal was to play as fast as John McLaughin. I think for a single moment I might have managed it. I wasn't thinking of performing. I knew I wasn't good enough and I was way too self-conscious. And whatever it was I wanted to play, wasn't something many people would want to listen to.

A lot of my generation played music because school and parents pushed them that way. They dropped it pretty much on leaving for university or work.

Music is hard work. You cannot learn to play-in-a-day because it takes a month for the blisters to heal (stringed instruments), or to form your embouchure (wind), and it take months to learn where the damn notes are and how to play scales and chords and arpeggios. When you see players in full flight with their eyes closed, it's not them showing off, it's because playing with your eyes closed is an actual technical exercise. You should know where you are on the piano, guitar or any other instrument, from the position of your body. It's a kinaesthetic sense. You can't play confidently unless you do.

Yes, that applies to guys saying they only knew three chords. Malcolm McLaren was hyping when he said about the Sex Pistols that the band couldn't play. That was part of the punk culture: nothing complicated, anyone could do it. Don't spoil the illusion.

I play music now for myself. Playing helps me listen and understand what I'm hearing better.

So much for teenage boys.

Girls? Groupies don't care about the music. They care that it's a famous / hot band with hot / sexy boys in it. Whether those guys could play is irrelevant. It's not being in a band that gets the girls, it's being a hot guy and being in a band. Those Sixties pop stars were hot / pretty by the standards of the day. A young man who picks up, these days it would be a mixing deck, a laptop and a Korg (or whatever), in the hope that a hot dance floor track will get him girls is in for a disappointment. Unless he's hot, when he needs to be a DJ up front and centre.

Making and performing music is for nerds, with exceptions from time to time. Rock 'n Roll, Rap. Do DJ's get laid? It's a nerdy occupation, but I've no doubt the hot ones who know how to work the scene do.

So. Money.

Nobody but a fool, to paraphrase Dr Johnson, ever played an instrument, except for money. Johnson said that about writing. He meant that the process was so painful and so demanding, that nobody would choose to do it over, say, hanging out with their bros, or watching football, or whatever they did back then. It's almost the same with music, though there is some satisfaction in playing for your own pleasure, which there isn't in writing.

I used to go to the Bulls Head in Barnes when it was, unbelievably, one of the foremost jazz venues in the country. The back room was generally half-full, you could make eye-contact with the musicians, and nobody sold CDs afterwards. That was jazz then and possibly still now. They were doing it for the practice, and to play with other people on the scene, as a form of networking. But they didn't do it for free. Even if it amounted to petrol money.

Why? Because getting paid is what makes the difference between a professional and an amateur. It's a confirmation that a complete stranger values what they do enough to part with money for it. As soon as musicians could make a CD without silly costs, they were selling the things at their gigs. For the same reason. And in the hope they might be able to make a living playing music.

The complaint about streaming revenues is that they are so low for most artists that it doesn't count as "making money". Pennies a month are insulting, and that's all many acts are making.

Streaming is the ultimate in deflation: the marginal cost of music falls from the price of a ticket or a drink or a disc, to zero. Streaming lets everyone hear an artist's music for free. So did the radio, but radio didn't have 70,000,000 tracks to play on demand. Radio validated because the gate-keepers had chosen you (payola aside). Spotify has minimal gatekeeping: there's no validation. It looks like an opportunity to be heard, but so is the back room of a pub and a small ad in a music paper. It wouldn't be so bad if streaming lead to people showing up at live gigs, but, wait, live what?

So I'm going back to "What's the point of providing music to people if the artists don't make money from it?". Money is proof that what you are doing is valued by someone (*). Girls are proof that you are hot or meet some other mysterious and changeable girl criterion that has nothing to do with your ability to construct a guitar solo. Don't let either of those comments stop you making music for your own enjoyment. If you can upload it to Soundcloud at minimal cost, sure, why not? But marketing is expensive and can be time-consuming. To paraphrase Dr Johnson again, nobody but a fool marketed anything, except for money.

Which is perhaps what I really meant to say.



(*) OK. Not all the time. Quota hires, for instance.

Monday, 10 May 2021

When To Retire?

For reasons to do with psychology, I found it hard to write about the process of deciding to retire. So I'm going to backtrack a little. Google "when should I retire" and most of the answers are about having enough investments and income. If you really like your job and the people you work with, you should probably not leave just yet. Seems like a sensible comment.

Assume the money thing is sorted. (That's another subject.)

Did I like my job? Like / dislike had nothing to do with it. Sometime in the Winter of 20/21, I checked out of the job. Checking out is its own thing (discussion to follow). Did I like the people? Sure. Am I going to miss them? Not so much that I'd notice. Work colleagues are not friends.

I can keep myself occupied and am happy with my own company. I'm not going to start drinking and over-eating. I might start sleeping in, but by my standards that would be 07:30. So that's okay.

My life expectancy is 85. But I'm not so sure. I spent twenty years smoking and drinking with unreasonable gusto. There's a lot of longevity on my mother's side of the family, not so much on my father's. He died at 65 of stomach cancer. I'm already older than my father when he died.

I'd like to do some stuff while I can still walk for a whole day.

It would be incredibly easy to stop WFH and take my house back for myself...

...never to answer another question that needs some tortuous SQL-bashing...

...never to have to work my way round the damn bureaucracy again.

That's why I was irritated when people want me to think about it.

Either that, or increased irritability is a by-product of The Jab.

(Actually, we should blame everything on the jab. I swear that my voice has acquired a slight croak, and remembering names can be a real stumper.)

One thought I picked up from the dross that is so often the result of a Google search:  you have a sense that you would regret continuing to work full time if you did it for much longer.

In the five minutes after reading that, I thought:

Yes I would regret it. I really can't see me working-from-home past about September 2021. So I'm really worrying about which exact month between now and September will be my last paycheque. Frankly, I may as well leave that to serendipity. And not hang on for the last paycheque.

So I went from September to filling in the forms at the start of April with a month's notice. Bang!

And never had a moment's doubt.

Thursday, 6 May 2021

So That's The Day Job Over...

I have finally retired. The last day was April 30th, which meant that the first non-working day was Tuesday 4th May. Weekends and Bank Holidays happen when we'e at work.

I am not going to miss the day job. I would have missed it if I had been commuting and seeing everyone in the office. Then retiring would have felt like a much bigger change, and far more abrupt when it happened. But a year of working from home and I had already made all the adjustments. All retirement involved was not opening the work laptop and not signing on to Teams and running reports. Which is no loss at all.

My plans for travelling are on hold until the hysterics are over, which will be about 2023, or until those of us who have been 'jabbed' (notice how they can't bring themselves to say 'inoculated') can move around without let or hinderance, except to places where we wouldn't want to go anyway.

I can't even pop out for a spot of lunch, since it's a) freezing, and b) the restaurants are still half-closed.

I did pop out for a spot of non-food shopping, in the Kingston John Lewis, and realised that I have always hated that kind of shopping, and doubly so now when I have to wear a mask. John Lewis have gone full retard on how many people can use lifts. Not going there again. I'll use their online site. If there's one thing I've learned to do in the lockdown, it's online shopping. Books, DVDs, food, shoes and clothes: almost everything else can be had online or by phone with a trial period.

So my days will be full of arranging and doing little things until, you know...

Which is just fine by me.

Monday, 3 May 2021

Sound Happiness With Subwoofers

My current set-up is a little light in the bass. I get more bass from the headphones.

I ran across a video in which Steve Guttenberg talked about upgrading or changing gear: don't just make sideways moves, he said. Try a subwoofer, he said. You will be amazed, he said.

Steve Guttenberg is the hi-fi reviewers' hi-fi reviewer.

What do the experts have? is always a good question.

So I looked at subwoofers. Enough to start looking at how I connect an amplifier without a Pre-Out or LFE terminal to a subwoofer.

Also I calculated the possible standing waves in my room. The width and length don't correspond to a note on the piano, but the height is close to C (one C means all C's, as octaves go in powers of two). So standing waves won't be a huge thing.

Who else has subwoofers?

Hans Beekhuysen does.

Paul McGowan has one. In fact two. And in small rooms. Paul McGowan as in PS Audio.

Who am I to argue?

They all say the same thing about the difference it makes to the sound. It's the kind of difference I would like.

I watched some more You Tube videos about setting the things up. And how a music subwoofer can be way less powerful than a home cinema one.

REL is the go-to manufacturer, and I found the smallest one they do. Sevenoaks Hi-Fi shipped it over. I followed the instructions carefully, wired it to the B-speaker posts, and put it to one side of the shelving holding my speakers. Given that LS50's roll off the bass at 80Hz (just above E-flat 2, the 19th note on an 88-key piano) and the top end of crossover is around 120 Hz (just above B-flat 2), and the knobs have no markings, I wound the crossover right up and tweaked the volume now and again. The aim is to get rid of the sense of a thump when a low bass note hits, but have it loud enough that when I switch off the B speakers, the sound suddenly seemed, well, anaemic.

The result is EVERYTHING they said it would be. The music just feels more solid, more full, and what it does to the kettle drums in Bruckner 2 is something wonderful. And the additional bass seems to be coming from the bookshelf speakers, not a little box in the corner on the floor (yes, that is okay, according to REL).

Acoustics is a great mystery. For which we should all be glad.

Thursday, 22 April 2021

Hi-Fi Upgrades - Go Qobuz!

I must have played one too many Spotify playlists. I got tired of Spotify.

I've done Tidal.

So I tried Qobuz.

OMG!

96kHz streaming. 192kH... iPad reboots itself. Set 96kHZ as maximum.

CD-quality streaming.

Why wasn't I listening when various You Tubers talked about it?

Maybe I thought, hey I can barely tell the difference between 320kps vs a CD on my current system, why would I notice the difference between anything more?

Stream CD-quality through the Jitterbug+Black Dragonfly and it just sounds better than 320kps.

As good as my CD player, if not better.

Sources matter.

Monday, 19 April 2021

What I Did In The First Post-Lockdown Week

(aside from the day job, daily walks, cooking food and all that routine stuff)

Monday: the nice man from the AA pumped up my flat tyre and drove with me to the local tyre emporium just before it opened, where I had the whole lot changed over. Later that morning, I stopped by the local Pure Gym. A manager was there to show me around.

Tuesday: early morning shopping at Sainsbury's. Joined the gym online. 50% discount. (Even at the full rate, that gym costs as much in a year as my old one did in a month. And I was happy to pay that money then.) Added Qobuz to my streaming services. I am liking that decision more and more.

Mid-week: lots of hefting of books and building of IKEA shelving. Didn't need to leave the house for that.

Thursday: first visit to the gym. Man those pull-downs felt good.

Friday: a visit to London by train. Haircut at George the Barber's in Bedfordbury; sunbed session at the Tanning Shop, Covent Garden; a visit to the Vodafone and Apple shops; lunch outside at Maxwells; a browse round Foyles; and a visit to Lillywhites for some new trainers.

Saturday: a visit to Sis's new house in a secret location for lunch.

Sunday: second visit to the gym in the morning. That was more tiring than I thought. Snooze in garden sun-trap. Get new iPhone SE2 working, and set the old one up to be another iPod Touch (that's why Apple downplay the iPod Touch).

And all I had to do was wear a mask almost everywhere.

Masks do not counts as "freedom", and sure as hell not as "normal".

This ain't over 'til the masks get burned.

I have my second jab this week.

Two more weeks before I never have to open that work laptop again.

Monday, 12 April 2021

Retirement Countdown

I have to talk about this.

In three weeks' time I will stop working.

I have to fill in some forms, and one reason I haven't already done so is that I did not have a black ink pen in the house, so I had to buy one on Thursday. And some stamps. On Friday I woke up late and did nothing. I should have been filling in pension forms and getting the flat tire on the car fixed. Instead I watched You Tube videos on anything and generally futzed the time away. I got a walk and a few reps in, just so I hadn't had a complete wasted day. Then I went to bed at 22:00, and came back downstairs at 23:30. No sleep Saturday morning. That happens when I feel guilty about leaving things undone. I felt guilty because I'm supposed to be Superman, and never have a bad day.

I spent a lot of time on Saturday dark morning thinking that the sleepless night was about retiring, and not having a job and all those other cliches.

I'm totally down with the I-will-not-have-a-job-to-wake-up-to-do bit. Me? Miss the day job? Have you met me?

Not getting the tyres fixed is about me being indecisive and lazy and maybe it's the pollen. I wake up with a blocked nose, itching and sneezing. At 04:30. I kept dozing until 08:00 Friday, and spent the rest of the day being an hour behind schedule.

If I was going into the office, I would have a countdown of days left commuting. I would be having handover meetings and chats with people. I would have something anchoring me to work in those last days.

But I'm at home. I've been at home for over a year now. My unconscious heard me say I was resigning, took a look around, saw that it was home, and checked out of the job. It thinks I'm done, and it does not like it when I keep opening the work laptop. It gets confused.

I can't concentrate on work because I've almost left it. I can't concentrate on organising things in my life, because I'm still at work.

It's not retirement I can't handle.

It's these last three weeks.