A painful lump in my left forearm has arisen. It hurts to touch and feels as if someone has pinched me or punched me really hard. There is no bruise or sign of a boil or pimple ready to ooze pus from this area. The dull pain travels up my arm and makes my fingers ache. What is this pain? What is this lump? Will it go away? I noticed this lump on Saturday. Today it feels as if it is easing but it still throbs noticeably. I am hoping it is a blind spot or a ganglion rather than some weird tumour that requires my left arm being amputated from the left elbow. (Jeez, I think I am turning into a hypochondriac).
Recently, I sold a load of old recording software I didn’t need on eBay and with the proceeds purchased a new electric guitar. I am just a shamless, lazy, useless bum who ought to deal with his debts first before squandering his cash on fripperies. But what do I care? I am a lazy bum. A useless, no good lazy bum. And there’s nothing any of you can do to stop me. Mwahahahahhaaahaaa!
The guitar was a boxed new Epiphone Black Beauty (with three pickups) from eBay. It was a real steal and I am really glad I purchased it. I have already fitted an internal GK-2A MIDI pickup and I have a Bigsby tremolo unit being delivered soon.
Anyway, I did some recording yesterday and the pain in my arm/fingers told me to play something S-L-O-W. And so, I kicked on my Boss RC-20XL and decided on a loop of around 4 minutes. The rules were simple:
First pass: play single notes, letting them decay and die
Second pass: play two notes in succession, quickly
Third pass: play three notes in succession at will
Fourth pass: play what you feel
Fifth pass: play single notes
Sixth pass: play two notes
Etc, etc…
So this is me with my Epiphone Les Paul Black Beauty played into my mixer with a little bit of reverb without any other effects other than the RC-20XL looper. It has its moments and is a sheer indulgence. You can right-clear the following URL and select “SAVE AS” or you can click it and let it play with Windows Media Player (if you have that installed, of course)
http://www.darrenlock.com/media/gs.mp3
Category: Diary
The US Presidential result left me depressed. I was under a cloud for the rest of the day. Why? Because I believe that the American people deserved better. Because it depresses me to see America standing alone on the world stage when it should be taking a more responsible stance on International issues. Because I know that Crony Blair is super-glued to Bush’s coat-tails. Where ever he wants to go, dear old soppy Tony will have to follow. It’s all part of the special relationship, right? (And this is from a life-long, Commie, pinko, left-wing Labour supporter who voted TWICE for dear old Tony).
Don’t get me wrong. I really like America and the Americans when I have visited but your politicians make you look stupid. They are going to drag you down a ideological cul-de-sac dominated by religion, moral crusades and fear. The neo-conservatives are really just like the Taliban, but without the funky facial hair. In the next four years, you will see your personal rights eroded away.
(Of course, if you are a white, god-fearing, middle-class, heterosexual, this will not affect you. But the government will still keep you scared of those tan-skinned terrorists hiding under your bed).
Fear = control.
In the past, politics was dominated by aspirational theologies. The politicians came to you and promised clean water, a job or the right to vote. Now the politics of aspiration don’t work because we’ve all got our widescreen TVs and our DVD players. So how do you inspire the electorate? Fear.
Make ’em scared and they will tick the box. Pathetic, ain’t it?
The worst thing is I am seeing the same rhetoric spouted by Bush being adopted by Blair and he is trying to scare this country into voting for him. It won’t work with us because we ain’t that gullible. We’ve been invaded, had the Empire and bought the T-shirt. We’re jaded and cynical. America is still a young whipper-snapper and has a lot to learn.
Now I am not going to say that you were wrong for voting Bush, because you wasn’t. It was your prerogative and, at least, you took the time to vote. But the one thing I will urge you to do if you did vote Bush is to get yourself a passport and to travel outside the US. Visit Europe. Travel. That’s all I ask of you. This will help you to do two things:
1) You will learn to appreciate other cultures
2) You will love your own country even more
Blah, blah, blah…it means nothing. Why waste my time even typing this? It’s not going to change anything. The only thing that changes anything is the passage of time. And so, we just have to wait and wait and wait until this black period of world history passes us over.
But I’ve got it off my chest. GAK!
Tomorrow is 5 November. This is the anniversary of some Catholic trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament. We celebrate the fact that Guy Fawkes, this 17th century terrorist, was hung, drawn and quartered (very slowly, of course) by burning an effigy of the fellow and lighting fireworks. Hurrah!
Click here for a little bit of history.
It’s also someone’s birthday and because it shares this day, I can never forget it. So another word of advice: marry someone whose birthday is shared with a popular local holiday.
Phew…that was a tiring week. And now I have reverse jetlag and now I feel awake when I should feel tired (instead of feeling tired when I should be awake). Aha!
Managed to get my booty through the green customs channel. That’s one in the eye for the little guy, right? And so I am now the proud owner of a second-hand Fender Stratacoustic which I bought for a bargain price of $129 (which is about £70). The same guitar I saw in a shop in the UK for £270 – you go and do the math. My other purchase was for an FX pedal…the Boss RC-20XL which is a looping device that can hold up to 16 minutes of musical soup. This isn’t currently available in the UK and was again bought for a bargain price thanks to the generous exchange rate. I haven’t quite got to grips with it yet but it should be a fun toy to play with.
While I was away even more CDs have been flying off the shelves at CDBABY with “Sows’ Ears” being a particular favourite. While it isn’t enough for me to buy a Bentley (you can’t even drive, you fool) it is heartening to know that complete strangers are giving my music a home and a chance. Hurrah! If only I could perform this stuff live…that particular bugbear keeps nagging me at the back of my mind. Live…live…live…if only I could.
Anyway, my very first independant review of “Sows’ Ears & Silk Purses” goes like this.
Brian of Oregon says:
“At 4+ hours for $10, this thing is the ultimate bargain for enthusiasts of tasteful, intelligent electric guitar playing. It’s all over the map stylistically, of varying but never terrible recording quality, and all quite pleasantly listenable with moments of brilliance.”
This truly makes it all worthwhile. And, of course, you can grab your copy by paying a visit to…
http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/darrenlock3
Each copy of this has been lovingly rubbed against my codlings before they were sealed into the box.
Shameless self-promoting son-of-a-bitch, ain’t I?
At the moment, I am typing this using the hotel room’s “Internet TV” service – so please excuse typos. Yesterday, I spent fifteen minutes writing a diary entry only for it to disappear into the ether courtesy of this service. Oh well…cheap ‘n’ cheerful, I guess.
Last week, left for USA. Hardest part of the journey was getting stuck in traffic for 30 minutes on the M25 as soon as we entered it from our locale. Not good. The flight was a breeze – though I was shocked by the amount of babies travelling on the flight. When the plane began its descent, they all started bawling as their little ears popped. Poor little mites….their parents should be strung up by their codlings for making them suffer so.
Arrived in the afteroon. The Missus advised me to keep going rather than nap. So I kept going and we mooched around and got something to eat. Went over 24 hours without sleep. When I slept I woke at 5am in the morning (jetlag rules OK). This pattern continued for the next three days.
Hired a car, made the Missus drive immediately onto the freeway in order to conquer her fear of driving on the wrong side of the road. It worked (almost). Had little gas and so we pulled off in some run down part of LA. Nice hispanic man at the gas station showed us how to use the pump. Different from the UK. He was helpful and laughed with us at our British incompentence.
Carried on driving. Got to Irvine. Checked in, went out. Headed for the South Coast Plaza for shopping and snacks. Good fun. Bought Talking Heads CD. Went back to the hotel. The Missus had a nap while I tried to remain cold, stone awake. Went down for the concert. Arrived at the desk but there was no record of me on the computer and so I used my English accent to convince the guy that I had travelled all the way from England for this show. Got a pair of entry bands. Thanks, BarryK. Checked out the “art”.
“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” says cynical me. Though we did chortle at the paper mache dog complete with postman’s hand in its mouth. It reminded us of Rumpus Meridius Maximus who is probably rumping on the sofa 5000+ miles away in Blighty.
Watched gigs. Went back to room. Slept. Left early. Headed to Fashion Island near Newport. Mooched around here for a couple of hours. Headed off again along the Pacific Coast Highway – stopping off here and there. Sat on a bench overlooking Rendondo Beach for 45 minutes – doing our thing, people watching. Do we dare join the good-looking, tanned locals? No, who wants to see our pale flesh exposed? So we shuffled back to the car and continued our journey.
Parked near Santa Monica Beach and had some grub. The turkey and coleslaw sandwich sounded nice on the menu. Went it arrived it was deep fried! Jeez, I felt like Elvis. Afterwards, a walk along the sea front up to Marina del Ray (though not all the way there, I am afraid) was enough to get the greasy sandwich through my digestive system. Walked there and back – stopping to sit and enjoy the evening sunshine and the sand. Back to hotel for deep sleep and waking at five in the morning.
Sunday began with us walking to the Guitar Centre on Sunset. Nice to look around but the staff are just a little too keen to introduce themselves. Let me browse in peace, dagnammit!
Walked back to the hotel in the mid-day heat and went out driving to the Santa Monica shopping complex on Third St. Good mooching. Had tea and a scone in one of the “English” tea rooms around there. The tea was good but the scone was a bit floury for my pallette.
Walking down to the coast and down to the pier. To the end of the pier for photos and staring out to see. Naturally more impressive than Clacton Pier which I had visited in July, but what do you expect. Walked slowly back to the car. Hotel and bed.
Monday morning was my first morning without waking at five am. No more jetlag, hurrah! Went out driving stopped here and there. Visited my favourite Sam Ash music store and bought some musical goodies. Drove around Beverly Hills and the Palisades. Good driving. The Missus made a motoring faux pas and we nearly got squished by a very big juggernaut. Not bad going. One honk the whole weeked. Well done, The Missus.
Stopped by the beach again and walked around before sitting in the sun for 45 minutes. People watching. Police arresting bums. Dogs in the heat. The odd British accent. Had to return early as the Missus begins her professional life for the next couple of days. She spent the night out at some DVD awards (I declined to go, preferring to stay in the room and play with my new musical toys). Watched my first proper evening of American TV and then to bed.
And that brings me up to this moment. Tuesday morning. The Missus is working and I’ve got to figure out what I am doing with myself. Might take in a movie or just mooch around the locale. Some drummer is playing in a musical at a theatre that is part of my hotel complex. Everywhere I go Val Kilmer is staring at me. I don’t likes it.
Not much doing.
Been spending time with The Missus. Getting drunk and generally being naughty.
Decided to retire my bass of 12 years and buy a new one. Went to the Guitar Centre in E1 and bought a lovely red Fender Precision Bass Special Deluxe. When I got it home, I took the router and hammer drill to it and made loads of holes in the body to accommodate an internal MIDI pickup. Now I have a wonderfully playable MIDI bass…yum.
To pay for such doings, my old bass, an acoustic guitar and some other crap I no longer need will be going up on eBay. It is good to binge and purge, binge and purge…
It’s cold, it’s dark, it’s raining and I want SUMMER. I want SUMMER right now. I know worldwide the gag is that we live in a constant shroud of cloud and rain, but usually, at this time of year, even us poor, pale, pasty-faced Brits have a little bit of sun and warmth. Not this year, it seems.
At the moment, I am without work. The situation is one step away from being critical and with one opportunity closing, I need to find some more work. Unfortunately, I am the worst freelance writer…ever! No, it is true. Trust me on this. I’ve done my darndest to network, to make contacts, but I am just not breaking through anymore. It is a concern. Take the following reply I received from an editor this very morning:
An editor with an arse for a head wrote:
Unfortunately you seem to be writing for our competition. I’m afraid we can’t use the same writers that they do.
Thanks,
Graham
Well, excuse me. I didn’t realise that I was working in such an exclusive industry. This has happened to me before and if an editor sees that you write for another competitor, they won’t hire you. This means that even if you haven’t written for that magazine for a couple of years (like in my case) you are stonewalled out. Does this happen in other professions?
Imagine the scene. A young fellow goes for an interview at Burger King.
Employer: I see that you’ve worked for McDonalds, Mr Smith?
Potentential Employee: Yes, I can explain. It was a Saturday job when I was at school.
Employer: Sorry. We can’t hire you. You’ve worked for our competitor.
Potential Employee: Nooooooooooo!
And so my patience is wearing thin with the whole media industry. It is so facile and shallow and nasty that even a little underacheiving sprout like me finds it hard to continue.
Adopting David Brent demeanour:
Today’s weather is the worst for 150 years…FACT! In fact, the last time the summer weather was this bad they cancelled the D-Day landings…FACT!
So I am snuggled here in my wooly jumper with the central heating on. Me and Alex are fed-up because it is far too wet and windy
Recent eBay madness has secured me with enough funds to purchase some musical goodies for my next project. The Missus should just wrestle me to the ground and remove my credit card from me before I do anymore damage. But she is a sucker for me when I do the big blue eye routine and stick out my bottom lip…
“But all the other boys have internal MIDI pickups in their bass…PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE”
Pester power works!
Thinking of getting more stuff up on eBay but I spent TWO HOURS inputting stuff the other afternoon just for only half of the stuff to sell. Here’s a word of advice: books do not sell. Some do, mainly rock books and popular classics, but the more obscure stuff doesn’t and so those books will be heading to the local charity shop. Yes, I do my bit being a left-wing goodie, goodie socialist scum-bag.
Ooooh drum solo…