I Didnt Realise You Wrote Such Bloody Awful Poetry

Frankly Mr Shankly, you are a flatulant pain in the arse.
Im welcoming the new year in writing this, on my own because I only finished work 40 odd minutes ago, not with my friends or girlfriend or even my family, just me.

2011 has been... fuck, what was 2011, so much changed, happened, moved, crumbled, crimped and smelled of burnt paper

Happy New Year

Fuck.
Having just clocked off from work about 20 minutes before I started writing this, Im sat in on my own and the rest of my family are asleep; that said tonights been I guess, shame Im not spending tonight with the one person I wanted to, but unfortunately Ronald called my name

Getting Away With It All Messed Up...

Sitting amidst the embers of desperation, Nightingale doffed his cap as so to hide his face, he looked mercifully over the whores and the lowlifes, eyes agaze and mouth agape, their quests for enlightenment, riches and orgasm perhaps, somehow coming to a most fitting end in the opium dens of vice and criminality that feed like parasites in the seedy underbelly of a lonely London Town.
"But Darling! Wait!" She cried, he averted his gaze, a pain so sharp it cut through the palpable sense of pity and empathy that many a poor fool once felt for such a girl. She too fell pray to the matriarchal charm of a one Miss Dwyers, who lest forget was re-known for sending many a honest daughter to her demise.

...Where are we? "Fuck!" he remarked. Wrong blog.

Anyway, such a diversion aside, Im going to talk to you tonight about a dear friend of mine who by name and nature is deserving of the title "The Majestic One"; By way of... Establishment, I came across this young soul in the common room of a Tuesday morn, and at once I saw a light in his eyes and his burning masculinity managed to impregnate all those in proximity. His name is Paddy, but to me he will always be Patrick, no mater how much he resents this, and Patrick plays guitar, he's one of those artists I feel will forever tour in the back of their mate's transit, from pub to pub, club to club singing away and making ends meet.
He's one of the few good men that I know that actually "love" music albeit with some strange but mutual tastes I have nothing but love and respect for him, so in honour of this... marvellous bastard, and as a personal favour to myself I call upon friends both near and far, and above all my cult Malaysian following to check him out!

Enjoy.

(As I could only find a facebook link to his latest song, there may be privacy issues and whatnot, as of writing this piece I am working on finding a YT link, bear with me)

Cheeky treat:
http://youtu.be/0DtrUqZ8zao - PeteBox - Kid's cover (MGMT)

(Also, that cheeky bit of story, I wrote that as so to exempt myself from crediting someone)

I Was Swimming In The Caribbean - Covers.

Right; We're going back to a music oriented post, the topic of conversation that is so nonchalantly teetering atop your' tongue is as the title would suggest: covers.
I think what is important when looking at music is its longevity, I don't think that the fact that a song is "still around" is a hallmark of a "Classic": take for example Nirvana's Teen Spirit, a song that by way of accident rip roared its way into the mainstream, Kurt himself admitting to taking massive inspiration from the Pixies:

"I was trying to write the ultimate pop song. I was basically trying to rip off the Pixies. I have to admit it. When I heard the Pixies for the first time, I connected with that band so heavily that I should have been in that band- or at least a Pixies cover band. We used their sense of dynamics, being soft and quiet and then loud and hard."

As the band and the music became more popular Kurt began to detest playing the song, he began to exclude it from concerts and the band as much resented playing it.

"The band felt tortured to play this song over and over again once it had become popular. Uncomfortable with how successful it had become, they often excluded from playing it at their concerts. By 1994, Kurt's thrust into popularity and his natural instincts to avoid it had collided. He killed himself in 1994 by shooting himself in the head."

A digression perhaps; but to explain: One could argue a song is much more about the moment, is it possible that anything can necessarily be enjoyed again and again and be consistently satisfying, it's hard to re-capture the moment you first listened to a song that really blows you away? As glorious as it is to sit back in nostalgia and retrospect and re-kindle your love for a particular verse, you'll never have it back, the moments, the emotions. I think it is most often the best idea to jump out whilst you can in a blaze of glory rather than slow-burning away whilst a panel show snigger at what became of the embers. To think, should Kurt still be with us would his legacy remain? Is it doing the song justice that it is still around, being thrown in front of new audiences like a stale finger buffet.

My question though, which I myself cannot begin to answer: Is the churning out of covers of "classic" songs a way to re-kindle peoples fondness for the original by way of preserving what we had, or is it more a quick cash in?

For example, I'll return to the Pixies - Where Is My Mind, quite possibly my favourite song, though I know that I don't feel the same sense of "ey up" when it happens to come on shuffle, but then I found a cover of it by The PeteBox, a beat-box-esq performer (who has recently released a live studio album that I highly recommend) and I fell in love with it again, it was... perfect.

So, I leave you with that, I don't have an answer, these are just my thoughts and feelings but at the end of the day music is an art, something that can by its very nature be enjoyed again and again, though I think it is something to be felt, as much as a work as a moment, be it one that you share with other people, or a cheeky treat you scoffed on your own of in the midst of a Saturday's eve.

Hmm.

Anyway; for reading this far, you can have a snack:
The Pixes: Where Is My Mind

"I'll Have Thigh, Mable"

It... It's been a while I know, its been an awkwardly long time, that zone between cheerfully popping back to let you know how I've been and storming in rudely over christmas dinner to start a fight with my estranged ex wife.
I figured I'd come back though, dust the cobwebs off the old blogger dashboard, sit down and write a nice piece for those that remain, I daren't look at the statistics for my page, though that cult following in Malaysia was unexpected.
So, as a result of my return I guess you'd like to know a bit about what I got up to, how I've been and all that? Its been fucking astounding really; I didn't think that after my last post my life would be changed by an entirely new group of friends, a new college, a job, money and driving lessons; its mental how much has changed in just over 3 months, bizarre times; Im happy, genuinely, life has changed and as far as I know its for the better.
I think the side of me, the ever-cynical, smart arse that seems to think he knows more than everyone, has toned himself down, I mean, he'll always be there, pointing out what's wrong and justifying his anger towards the man-woman on the bus who seems to be everywhere he goes: Oh darling, I detest you, yet I pine for you in your absence over this festive period, a bus is not a bus without a leaking Tesco bag and a luminous jacket.
I feel a great sadness, I suppose, to those I've forgotten about, but at the end of the day, its living for the moment that matters, and if I stopped to think about those who'd inspired me, spurned me on or sent me into the ebbs of frustration with their ridiculous idiosyncrasies: then I would be here for days, and I don't fancy that.

As far as I'm concerned I don't want those closest to me, nor those even aquatinted with me to know about this, I think that the pseudo-anonymity that lies behind these postings is what is important really.
I always get the idea that everything I write will at some point become a part of history, one day I should hope this proves incredibly true, until then I guess, I'm Jac, as far you know.

I don't want to conclude here, I miss writing these little blogs, its a nice release. But alas it is more than we're all worth to carry on reading, in the sense of the word we're all dying, do not consider this to be a triumphant return though, nor reunion, you could say that we're going back to those awkward glances across the hallway when neither of us knows what to say, then you stumble, stutter and its all a little embarrassing for both parties.
Though it is the mark of true friendship when one of us can shut the fuck up for a minute and we can enjoy the silence.
Food for thought, eh.