Hello Graham. Hello Diane.
You know what? I did something silly.
Now, the more switched on amongst you may already have realised that I am a fan of the music stuff. Congratulations to you and your nippy wits, but I'm afraid I can offer you no reward at this time for your smart observation.
Owing to the implosion of my last relationship I find myself these days wallowing in copious amounts of "free" or "down" or "spare" time like the proverbial pig dans merde. It's a time to breath, a time to count blessings, to contemplate and amongst other pursuits, enjoy music for its own sake and not purely as a preamble to bedroom fumblings.
Groovy man.
Woah.
Melody dude.
Harmony.
Rhythm... it's all in there...
It's sad to say, but I'd been side tracked from the musical matters in hand by a beautiful and enveloping woman. Music still played an important role in my life, but it had become serious, like work. More often than not, the music itself had stepped into the background, like a "classic soul" CD at a Sunday Carvery. It wasn't running thick in my blood as it had before. It wasn't dancing round my ears. "Choon and Ridem" were no longer connecting to my life form as fundamental Britty Boy soul fodder.
And that there is the power of love, the lure of the lady, the whiff of the woman...
mmmm...
The spell of the siren is enough to intoxicate and to deviate.
That's my excuse on paper, but really I'm just a drunken, lazy-as-fuck chancer who loves cuddling birds more than almost everything.
But, chaps and chapets, I'm back on the band wagon and tooting along to the chorus with my very own trumpet.
Now, there's a tune that I've wanted to own for years. Blind Melon's "No Rain." It has the most soothing summertime sounding introduction I ever did hear. It is unadulterated delight to my sound catchers. It makes me feel love like our mums and dads did in the summer of '69! The first time I heard this track it must have been the same day a girl first kissed me on my "no-no place." The very same day that my lawyers got me off for peddling class-A to the local youth and for bumming that goat. The same day I found a box of tenners wrapped in porn under the Bare-Naked-Ladies-Tree.
Why?
Because this little piece of music evokes such pure pleasure in my soul. It manages to fetch out a blissful tear from my bluey-blood shot eyes every time I try to join in with the first line.
So, it's Saturday just gone, and I'm thinking it's been way too long. Too much time has passed down the plug hole since me and this track were last in a dance.
So I did it.
I did a silly thing.
I opened an account with itunes.
Oops.
60 minutes later and I'd spent fifty odd whimsical bloody quid on tracks that had suddenly become vital to my very existence. Most of which I can no longer remember purchasing and which have since disappeared into the vast vault of my whopping great itunes bank. Only to re-emerge at some distant time when I decide to risk a random shuffle playlist.
Like a kid in a melodious sweet shop!?!?? Fukinel, I aint got no teeth left!
See, with itunes it's not really like spending money; it's more like clicking with the mousey thing to your right (or left if you're correct-way-to-write-challenged) and receiving only musical gratification as a result. There's no actual money involved as far as I can see. Not like when you purchase booze or a large donor where you can see what you start out with and what you end up with (quite often being skint, drunk and on the throne with the shits.) What I can't see, I can't see. What I can't see harms me not.
So then, with a six pack at my side I sat down to begin the offensive of careless consumerism. My new life as the itunes chap about the home. An evening with Ian at the controls if you will, (and I did.)
DJ of the house.
With the first beer in hand I began quite prudently with the afore mentioned Blind Melon classic. True too, I was happy for a good 16 or 17 minutes just playing it over and over with a numb skull smile slapped about my facade, occasionally muttering to myself "fuhkin luuuve this tuuuune, duuuhh."
Dribble.
After this initial purchase though, and with the flood of pleasure it had brought me, my confidence in the "buy now" button had risen extraordinarily and I began making designs to take on a whole album in one. The White Stripes album "Iky Thump" came to me like magic.
Click, wait, not long, not long...not long... aaand. Sounds.
Easy.
It's a bloody loud album this "Iky Thump" thing and it's a full album. Needs proper consideration. At a later date. No time now for concentration. Bad diet you see. So I didn't get past about track three before I thought:
"What else shall I rustle up from the www dot heavens?"
My desire for fresh music had matured rapidly into a voracious beast and it was now sitting with its fingers on the buttons. The miraculous world of itunes was calling me on.
Third beer in hand now and I was getting sentimental about my chosen path as a musician. Where it's taken me, the people I've met along the way and my compassion for fellow acoustic-troubadours in their own endeavours. Reaching down to my mouse, once again I effortlessly went for the "buy track now" button. I successfully searched (pat on the back) and located an old friend of mine Liam Frost and in a flash I was listening to his evocative master piece "Mourners of the something or other-thingamie-bob" and "She Painted Pictures."
The TV generation in me raised its ugly and distracted head and before I'd even got to the second chorus of the second Liam Frost download I'd moved back to "buy (ing again) now" the rousing "Long Way Around" by the equally rousing Sheffield gent, Neil McSweeny.
Fast and furious. The dam had burst.
Like a downmarket dame at the Primark sales... I was in "buy now" "buy now" "buy now" mode.
Itunes?
This shit is easy. This is something I'm good at. I can so play this harmless little game. I've discovered a natural aptitude here. On to something am I! I've been given a gift and it need to keep it sharp.
What's next Mr right hand, you seem to know what to do? It is imperative that we move forward together now as a team, and swiftly so as not to realize what's really going on here in terms of spendy spend spend spend.
By now the alcohol is sloshing around inside my carcass and swaying slightly down the walkways of my veins. (Baring in mind I'm topping up from the profoundly heavy night before. Ne'er you call me a soft lad.) So, my inhibitions have fled the scene, I'm singing along in the mirror, caution has been cast to the right and the party atmos' has begun, full swing, a-kicking and a thumping.
We got:
Prince, "When Doves Cry," slight body poppin...
Michael Jackson, "Rockin Robin," fuck it's actually hard to dance to without looking like your Aunty Beard at a wedding do!
Lynrd Skynrd, "Sweet Home-you know the rest-abama," we're goin higher!
Smokey Robinson, "Tears of a clown," by which point I've started changing tops to fit each new track as they crash land in the room...
Black Eyed Peas, "Started in Here" silly beanie hat, phat sneakers and hand gestures at the mirror.
Breathless, mildly drunk and slumped in an untidy bundle back in the itunes hot chair I begin now to feel introspective and wistful. Clutching at straws somewhat after all the physical exertion I went for;
Madonna, "Like a Prayer." Deep. At first then just more annoying jigging when the drums come in...
Prince, "Purple Rain." Brilliant. Luminous. Till you get bored and I'm getting bored pretty easily now.
The beers really stats to take a hold of the mood, kicking in to the flow if there is any flow to be had anymore. It's more like a fitful chance of actions. Random-pattern-behaviour is at the helm. Chaos ensues.
I get all "end of the night-last one standing-asking for requests and dancing like a twit" to the likes of:
Lionel Richie, "Dancing on the Ceiling."
Four Tops, "Going loco down in Acapulco."
Silly silly silly.
Last tinnie in hand. Wilting and drooling into my keyboard. Out of perseverance more than anything, I began to search for artists by simply entering each letter on the keyboard in turn into the itunes search facility and seeing what gems it comes up with. It should have said "give up and go to bed Ian" with each new search but it carried on with suggestions of what the fuck it thought I mught be aiming for.
Like a game now.
But sadly without many gems.
My judgement somewhat marred I was dredging up owt really, and paying for it on the premise of whether I'd even heard of the track before.
I mean, I ask you...
Travis, "Turn,"
Eric Clapton, "Change the World."
Hardly vital additions to the world of popular music. My credentials were shot to shit. Nice songs like, but I could have waited to hear it again by accident rather than whack out another 79 pence out to Mr i and his merry bank of tunes!
By the Hand of God or some other such astounding twist of fate I gave up around this point.
But not before one final swan song stab in the dark.
I can tell you now from experience that trying to find artists and songs on itunes by entering a search "th" or "ch" or even "ba," "be," "bi," "bo," or "bu" is an exercise best left undone.
You get the picture.
Night night music lovers. I will see you in my dream.