So while eating a late breakfast, the phone rang and it turned out it was the BT engineer who wanted to check my faulty broadband connection earlier than expected. Of course, the house was a mess (as the Missus was away and me and Alex The Wonderdog had been having lots of male time on the sofa surrounded by empty pizza boxes – joke) and the engineer would be over in ten minutes. So again, my meal was spoilt. The cereal dumped, the tea down the sink, I set to work trying to move the bookshelf away from where the main phone line comes into the house.
So the engineer tests things. Phones colleagues. Looks clueless. Apparently, my line can accept speeds of up to 6.5 Mb – but I am getting 230kbps. To put this in lay terms, I should be getting 6500kbps but I am getting 230kbps download speed. He takes a look at my self-installed extension line and reckons this could be the problem. I am told to keep my router connected to the main (which I have been doing since Monday) and everything will be fine.
So after an hour of faffing about, the engineer leaves and my connection is still 230kbps. I am not sure if anything is fixed or not. I am perplexed. Confused, somewhat. Is it fixed or not? Well, the engineer confessed that the new Broadband MAX! system is confusing to them and that they are in the dark. My connection is still at a crawl and if I don’t get any improvement in the next week, I shall consider going somewhere else for my broadband. During the whole experience, Alex The Wonderdog was shut in the kitchen and proceeded to bark and howl for the full duration of the engineer’s visit. Now I am feeling a bit exhausted and have a headache. I feel knackered but I haven’t done anything. I always get stressed when strangers come into the house and generally don’t like the experience. I guess the adrenalin rush and the sonic attack from Alex has worn me out.
Now the rest of the day will be dedicated to cleaning Chez Lock for The Missus impending return from Frankfurt sometime this evening.
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And so the woeful tale of my poor Internet connection enters the endgame. Today, after I sent a rather aggressive email to BT Broadband Support, I got a call from another friendly Indian call centre chap. Now I know their job is to just take the calls at a fraction of the price that a local competing call centre might do, but the whole language barrier thing is a real drag. I say “My speed is 121kbps” he says back to me “Your speed is 155kbps”. And so on. It gets annoying and I got annoyed with him, before apologising for my abruptness. Of course, one of the reasons why I was so grumpy is that I had just cooked myself lunch and had just taken the first mouthful when BT Bombay called. When I returned to my lunch, it was cold. C’est la vie…shouldn’t have complained in the first place, should you?
Anyway, I later got a call from Paul, the BT engineer located somewhere in a bunker in England, I presume. He tells me that my connection is running slow and that according to their logs, it has been like this for a week. I tell him my setup, he goes away and does another line check, and then calls me back 10 minutes later. There is something wrong and they can’t figure out what the problem is so an engineer will be dispatched for tomorrow.
Despite the slow speed, I can still surf and you can adequately negotiate most corners of the World Wide Web on a 95kbps connection. The only fly in the ointment is when you try and access any kind of multimedia content – they you realise that you don’t have the broadband muscle you once had.
Today, I visited Friendsreunited and looked upt the profile of my half-sister again to see how she was getting along. Some pictures had been added to her profile and there was one picture that upset me greatly – it was the graduation picture and it reminded me just how feeble and weak I am. You see, after doing the degree, I never had the strength to attend my own graduation – something I still regret. What a complete and utter fool I am.
And so this afternoon, when the rain showers had stopped and the sun had come out, I went back into the garden to investigate the fallen birdbox from this morning. Immediately, I was aware of a very bad smell and it was obvious that something was not right. I gently prised the roof off the box and inside was a perfectly crafted nest. In the nest, were four or five dead chicks. Despite the smell, they were still in good condition and hadn’t completely decomposed. So I reckon they’d been alive a good few days previously.
My heart sunk. What was exciting and fun to watch turned into a tragedy and now I am feeling miserable. But that’s nature and life, I suppose. There are no happy endings. I put the bird box in a black bin liner and tied it up tight. Already the smell was attracting the flies.
Here’s a picture of the nest and the dead chicks:
I wonder if the parents had been scared off by the cats? But if the chicks had already hatched, surely they wouldn’t abandon them? Perhaps both parents had met their end while foraging for morsels for their offspring? We’ll never know, I guess. And there I was hoping that I would see a family of Blue Tits flying around the garden. Fate is merciless…
I forgot to mention about the plucky little Blue Tits who had been nesting in our bird box, the one that had remained uninhabited for five years. Well, the birds had literally flown the coup and abandoned their nest. Not sure what happened, but I think the local cats might have had something to do with this. I think they flew a week ago as I had not seen any bird activity in a while. Well today, when I let Alex the Wonderdog out the garden for his morning constitutional, I noticed that the bird box was on the floor. On the floor! Someone or more appropriately, something, had knocked it off the side of the shed. Again, this bird box had been secured to the shed wall for five years without ever being knocked down or dislodged by a strong gust of wind. Methinks those pesky cats (or even foxes) might have something to do with this. Oh well, I plan to buy a new bird box and locate it high up on the side of the house because I thought it was really great watching those birds flying in and out of the box. Simple pleasures, eh?
Today, The Missus left early for her flight to Frankfurt, leaving me alone and miserable on this wet and woeful Bank Holiday Monday. She’s away for a while and I am going to have to my best to cheer myself up. So I am ploughing myself into music making in an attempt to stave of the blues.
The plan for the next big thing from me is to do another 4-CD boxset. I know it is pretentious and grandiose but there is a good reason behind this. CDBABY, the site I use to get my music “out there”, charges about ÂŁ45 per CD to get it on their books and on all the electronic retailers. My logic is why pay that for one CD when I can get 4 CDs worth of material out in one pop? Clever miserly Darren…
So I am doing a 4-CD set. The first CD is done – it’s called “A Pocketful of Stars” and has 15 or so instrumental tracks spanning an hour. The next CD doesn’t have a name yet, but is the unofficial follow-up to “Textures” and is about 80% complete (I think). The third CD is going to be a CD of vocal songs by me – so I am going through my archives and re-recording old songs and doing some new stuff to accommodate this. These recent “songs” I’ve been playing are for that and I have about 20 minutes of material ready to roll. Not sure how much more is needed, we’ll see how it goes. The final CD will probably be an album of ambient soundscapery stuff – all performed live. I am really digging the “Slow Music” CD and it is proving very inspirational. Not that I intend to copy this – but I’d like to attempt something live and long and spacey. Not sure if I can pull it off though.
Anyway, here’s another rough mix from that third CD – it’s called “I Don’t Know How to Stop” and is basically about addictive personalities or personal addictions or whatever:
Direct download: CLICK HERE
It features Darren in full “Rock Vocal” mode and although I only recorded the vox about 15 minutes ago, I might try and redo them later in the day when my tubes have opened properly. Mind you, I wanted the voice to get more frantic as it went along (in desperation) and I think this take captures that.
THIS FOLLOWING BIT IS REDUNDANT BUT KEPT FOR HISTORIC REFERENCE
On a related note 7 Digital, an online music vendor, has opened up a new site for desperate wannabe musicians like me to flog their tunes. I’ve got a couple of juicy tit-bits up for sale if you are interested. You can find out more by visited: http://www.indiestore.com/lock
For a couple of quid, you can download high quality copies of:
1) Textures [CONDENSED] – a quite superb reduced version of my Textures crammed into 28 minutes of loveliness with all the bad bits cut out
2) Soundscapes 99-03 – an entire CDs worth of noodling on the guitar from me adopting the soundscape model. All of it recording live and spliced toghether, it is a great summation of my ambient experiments (more about that tomorrow)
3) 2006 EP – this an edit from the second CD of that box-set I was talking about earlier. You might have already heard bits of this, but now you can download an listen to the first 15 minutes of that CD. It’s all good stuff and for a pound, you can’t go wrong.
Well that’s my sales spiel out of the way. I doubt anyone will buy any tracks because I give so much of this crap away for free. 🙂
Sorry, the title of this entry has nothing to do with my recent acquisition of the CD of the same name but the pitiful state of my broadband connection and my attempt to upload/download my latest demos. At the moment, I have a connection of 0.123Mb, which is equivalent to slower than a narrowband modem. I should be getting 5500Mb, but my service crapped out on Thursday and this is all the speed I can muster. I spent the last 30 minutes on the phone to a friendly Indian Call Centre chap who couldn’t believe how slow my connection was – it was so slow that when he tried to run a slow line test, the result never came back! He said that there was a fault with my connection (no…really?) and that I should be hearing from the fault department in 2-3 days. Who wants to bet a fiver that I will be calling that self-same Indian call centre in 4 days time, bemoaning the fact that the fault department were at fault for not investigating my fault and it’s not my fault, well it is my fault, but I want it fixed. 🙂
So yesterday I re-recorded another musical gem from my past. This time the song is “That Is The Way It Is” and it is a kind of Marxist protest song of sorts. Again, I recorded the orignal version back in 1999, but it wasn’t that good. But now I have the technology and can come up with better sounding rubbish songs. Again, I’ll let you hear the old version and then the new one. The new one, however, retains the same guitar solo from the 1999, though I sprinkled some patented Lock Audio Fairy DustTM over it to make it sound even more spangly.
Direct download: CLICK HERE
And here is that new version, so pin back yer lugholes, me hearties!
Direct download: CLICK HERE
And here are those all-important lyrics, so you can sing along at home – don’t forget to wave your arms around in an appropriate fashion:
That Is The Way It Is
Why should we tolerate the things we hate?
Why don’t make the rules, not take the rules?
What is this anxiety in our society?
Why do the ones with none all want some?
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Don’t bother changing things
It’s all too late
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Just get in line and take your fate
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Why do we toe the line to just fit in?
Why do we judge a man by his skin?
Why do we value those who have the most?
Why do we take the bait every day?
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Don’t bother changing things
It’s all too late
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Just get in line and take your fate
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Why do we stand in line and pretend we’re fine?
Why do we face the pain with a smile?
Why do we idolise the selfish swine?
Because we are used to it all the time
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Don’t bother changing things
It’s all too late
Cos that’s the way it is
The way it is
Just get in line and take your fate
In a dream the another night, I remember walking in Jersey with Alex. We wandered along shaded grassy woodland paths and onto the beach. For once, Alex the Wonderdog was walking like a proper dog should, without me dragging him along, and he was off the lead and enjoying himself. He responded when I called him and was generally acting in an exemplary fashion. I was very happy walking along the shoreline with my dog. Unfortunately, it was all a dream.
*** Back story, you see, Alex the Wonderdog might be a great housedog and good at barking at visitors and holding the fort, but he doesn’t like going for a walk. If you ever are taking in the delights of leafy Loughton and you see a lumpy looking fellow, huffing and puffing and dragging a large, white West Highland White behind him, that’s me walking Alex. Seriously…
Going through those old tapes the other day got me in a nostalgic mood and I started sorting through some of my old songs. When I finish the new collection, I want one of the CDs to be a vocal disc and so I was looking back at some of my old vocal songs to see if any were good enough to revive. I settled on “When I Was Young”, a track I originally put down in 1999. I got the original drum track and just built it up from there. I’m pleased with the result. I’m not the greatest singer, but the new microphone certainly helps (and beats the ÂŁ20 Tandy jobby I was using previously).
Here’s the old version of the song:
Direct download: CLICK HERE
And here’s the new version, recorded this very afternoon:
Direct download: CLICK HERE
And here are the words, so you can all sing-a-long at home:
When I Was Young
When I was young
I could do what I pleased
When I was young
Bring the world to its knees
When I was young
I just didn’t care
Sometimes,
I wonder where the time has gone
Sometimes,
I wonder why it turned out wrong
Sometimes,
I wonder when the fire burned out
Sometimes,
I wonder why my life’s full of doubt
When I was young
I knew what I wanted
When I was young
I went on undaunted
When I was young
Nothing got in my way
Remember the days of self-conscious youth
When we all had something
Something to prove
Time takes its toll
Anger gives way to joy
As the better man
Replaces the boy
When I was young
I could od what I liked
When I was young
I knew I was right
When I was young
Nothing was fair
When I was young
I just grew my hair
When I was young
I knew what to say
When I was young
I squandered the day
When I was young
I needed respect
When I was young
I was a pain in the neck
Yesterday, on our front path leading to the front door, a badly decomposed frog had been deposited. Who had dropped this croaked croaker is still a mystery. The general consensus of opinion believes that a bird, possibly a crow, may be the culprit. Here’s a gory picture:
A couple of weeks ago, I applied for a job that I really, really wanted. Unfortunately, the position was located in Ealing Broadway, a staggering 29 or so stops away on the Central Line. Despite this, I was heartened to get a reply from the company involved, but then quickly disheartened when all they wanted me in for was to do a test. Now, I am 35 years old and I am past doing tests. I’ve done tests for my O-levels, for my A-levels and for my degree. I know what I can do and I didn’t feel like making a 3+ hour round trip to sit a writing test I could do with my eyes closed, only for them to not call me back for an interview because it was an internal promotion all along. Well, anyway, I replied to their email politely declining the chance of a test and wished them the best in finding a suitable candidate.
Well blow me, that was a week ago and yesterday I got a reply from some stuffed shirt there lecturing me on how everyone applying for the job would be in the same position, blah, blah, blah. It’s my fricking prerogative if I attended the test and it riled me somewhat. So again I replied saying how I would have preferred an interview and a small test on the same day, as I can sell myself better in interviews and again wished them luck in finding a suitable candidate.
You are probably thinking: “Oooh look at him. He thinks he’s King Big Bollocks, not needing a test.” Maybe, maybe not. One of the things I resent about being in this profession is that you get tested at every opportunity. The jobs I’ve got have never had tests, the tests I’ve had never get me the job. So I just know that I don’t perform well in tests. I perform better in the real world. I just want to talk to these people face to face and let them get to know me. A test can’t do that – and great grammar and wonderful spelling and the right haircut does not a model employee make. Or maybe I am just completely objectionable and unemployable. I don’t know. Oh well, their loss, eh?
In the post: Slow Music – Live at the Croc. This was generously sent to me gratis from Don Mackenzie or JTMACK, as he likes to be called. There’s very little generosity in this world and it is a quality that I admire and try to exercise when I can. The only problem with being of a generous nature is that people either become suspicious of you (What do they want?) or people take advantage of you.
I enjoyed the CD greatly, which was a surprise because I wasn’t expecting to. The only shocking thing about it is it took all those musicians to make this noise when we all know it can be done by one man with the right gear. Demarcation, brothers. But yeah, I’ve played it several times and I thank JTMACK for giving me the chance to hear it (while the powers that be don’t give me the chance to hear it, if you know what I mean).
In an email conversation with my old recording chum, Andrew Osborne, I did my best to give him some advice and ended up sounding like Old Pa Fripp by accident. Out of the e-slurry, one line appealed to Mr O: You need to somehow define that it is your intention for the bass to be the lead instrument in the piece. Anyway, I hope my advice has pushed him in the right direction as I’ve been trying to get the guy to record properly for ages, but I don’t know if my nagging is paying off or not.