Vive La Recessolution

What I Need Is A Good Defence 'Cos I'm Feeling Like...

Although I never intended to produce a particular type of blog and I try to post a variety of things, the reality is that a large proportion of posts involve me inflicting my tastes in music on cyberspace.

The case as that may be, I think it's highly unlikely that 'Spherical Notions' will ever develop into a fully-fledged 'music blog', primarily because I don't post illegally uploaded audio tracks.

I got a bit spooked yesterday when I was fiddling around on analytics and noticed that my blog had been accessed a couple of times by individuals at Universal Music Group. I can only assume the reason for these visits was to check if I'd been uploading tracks by their artists, which of course I haven't.

According to news reports, Eircom has inked a deal with four major music companies and is poised to introduce a major crackdown on online file-sharing. Under a system known as “three strikes and you are out”, Eircom customers uploading or downloading music online from unauthorised sources will receive two warnings and then be disconnected if they continue to engage in the activity.

Statistically, people who download music buy more records, go to more gigs, and purchase more music merchandise than those who do not. Although, I admit I haven't paid for all the music I listen to, I spend a significant proportion of my money on live music, often to see artists who I'd never have encountered were it not for online file-sharing and streaming.

As unfair as it might be for individuals employed by major record labels, the reality is that these entities are becoming increasingly more redundant. Independent releases allow artists more freedom and creative control and practically every musician I've spoken to will attest to this. It's no longer necessary to pump millions into music videos and promotional gimmicks for a release. If the music is good, it will generate interest online and, in most cases, get the attention it deserves.

I love the fact that there is such a diversity of music at our fingertips and that radio and MTV no longer regulates what we listen to. I think the music industry bigwigs should try and turn these circumstances to their advantage rather than crying foul and chasing up perpetrators of online file-sharing. But that's all very easy for me to say, I guess.

Oh look, download complete. Off to bed with me so.

[Image: The Guardian]

School of Thought

Last week, I found myself juggling four different employments. I didn't intend to wind up in that situation but, hey, I'm badly in need of a cash-boost.

One of the jobs was as a substitute teacher in my old primary school. Over the course of the two days I spent there, at the helm of a classroom and taking lunch-breaks in the sacred Staff Room of my youth, I realised two things:

1. Young children see their primary-school teachers as all-knowing moral compasses.

2. Primary-school teachers, including those who taught me, are not all-knowing moral compasses.

[Image: Flickr]

Year 5, Day 2

I started my Master's degree in Journalism yesterday. I think it's probably a good thing that I was so busy the past few weeks because, if I'd had time to think about properly, I probably would have been quite petrified about the whole affair.

Thankfully, it's been going swell so far although I'm still coming to terms with being suddenly thrust into 'interactive' lectures having just sat and listened to boring maths lecturers for four years. I'm also a little bit intimidated by the amount of experience some of my classmates (two of whom are researchers on Newstalk) but everybody seems friendly enough. There are only 22 of us in the class so I'd hope to be able to get to know most of them quite well during the course of the year.

I've just finished my first assignment (we had to re-write a 19th century account of a London fire in a contemporary style) and we've got our first radio class tomorrow so it's all very exciting. Well, for me anyway.

As tragic as it is that I'm back in for a FIFTH YEAR, I'm delighted to be a DCU student once more. Boozy sessions in Shanowen, confabulations in 'The Street', boogieing in The Old Bar and swim'n'gym sessions in DCU Sports Club. Oh, how I have missed you, DCU.

Unfortunately, there are a number of people I met and grew to love at DCU that have moved on to bigger and better things since last I frequented this redbricked haven and. Not only do I pine for these people but I also get this strange feeling of guilt for continuing on with my DCU experience without them. It's hard to explain.

Tomorrow I will attend my fourth DCU Freshers' Ball (technically I am in the first year of a course but I will concede that there's nothing particularly 'fresh' about me.) The theme is Superheroes and, after much deliberation, I've decided on my costume:

You like?

Edinburgh: The Aftermath

Obviously, I'd rather have made my final Edinburgh post about a week ago but the past few days have been kind of mental (This will probably become clear later.) In some ways, it's probably a good thing to have put some distance between getting home and making this post because I've had a chance to reflect on my stint at the Fringe and last week I'd probably just have gushed mawkishly and incoherently about the whole experience.

My last two days in Edinburgh were pretty damn close to perfect although it really felt as though the whole experience came to an end far too abruptly. After a very drawn out process, I managed to get a ticket on Sunday afternoon for Enda Walsh's 'The New Electric Ballroom', which had drawn rave reviews from critics throughout the festival. It was easily the most professional theatrical production I'd seen throughout the Fringe, with an elaborate set, stylised costumes and actors that I can only guess are paid professionals.

The play focuses around two elderly sisters who both had their hearts broken by a big band singer in the sixties and the impact their subsequently hermitic existences have on their younger sister. The script featured repeated dialogue that wouldn't sound out of place in a Beckett play but was also imbued with Walsh's trademark verve. Although perhaps not as strikingly original as something like Disco Pigs, this play packs an equally powerful punch in its dramatic climax and certainly lived up to the hype. Try to catch this when it inevitably comes to The Abbey or The Gate.

Later on Sunday, I got to go to a special show at the Assembly Rooms performed by the newly crowned If.comedy Award winner David O' Doherty. O' Doherty was clearly still reeling from his win and really seemed to enjoy the set, eventually being goaded into giving a second encore. Later in the evening, we got to meet him and congratulate him on his well deserved success. It was so endearing to see how humble he was about the whole thing, claiming the £8000 will go some way towards paying back all the money he owes to his dad for financing his comedy career. International success generally greets winners of this prestigious prize so let's hope he manages to stay grounded.

The majority of my last day in Edinburgh was spent packing and then working. I foolishly booked my flight for 8am the next morning, which meant that I had to try and moderate my alcohol intake. Kind of challenging when it's me that we're dealing with and the lovely Ed Byrne puts £200 behind the bar for the front of house staff.

Obviously, I failed miserably and wound up fairly hammered midway through the night. I never made it to the third leg of our celebrations in Garribaldi's because I decided that four hours before I was due to leave Scotland was the opportune moment to make an advance on the colleague that I'd gradually become more and more enamoured with throughout the festival.

The way it played out probably would have been very romantic if I hadn't been so bloody drunk. We walked around the same block of buildings in Edinburgh city centre about four times before I finally got the courage to kiss him. In some ways, it might have been cool if we'd hooked up earlier on because it's been a long time since I fancied somebody as much as I liked this guy but in other ways, I'm kind of glad it happened the way it did.

Because of the fact that I was going home, our tryst could mean anything or nothing and it was a ittingly amazing end to an unbelievably awesome few weeks. After extensive lip-locking under archways, it was time for me to leave and he bundled me into a taxi so I could go pick up my stuff and head to the airport. As a result of these shenanigans, I deprived myself of the opportunity to say most of my drunken farewells. I got the boy but never got to say goodbye.

At the airport, Ryanair brought be back to reality with a bump my imposing another 'excess baggage' of £48 on me. I had checked in a second bag online but apparently this doesn't entitle you to any more weight. Oh well, you live and learn. Right?

So, that was my time at the Edinburgh Fringe. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say it was the best four weeks of my life so far. I certainly hope to be back for many more fringe festivals in the future.

As I've said before, there's a lot to be said for travelling on your own, under the right circumstances. The front of house job enabled me to meet so many fantastic people to socialise and see shows with whereas the Fringe environment was such that it was impossible to feel lonely, bored or homesick.

It's reassuring to know that I can survive in situations like this and, unlike on my work placement last year in Eagle Star where I was also starting off knowing nobody, I didn't feel a need to adjust my behaviour or play down aspects of my personality in order to fit in. I was just myself and people accepted that.

My decision to come to Edinburgh for the festival was made hastily in March at a time when my world seemed to be crumbling around me and I needed something to cling to. It's comforting to think that this incredible experience was borne out of a difficult time and that in the future I may be able to turn similarly frustrating situations into amazing adventures.

Until next year, Edinburgh.

Edinburgh Diary: Day Twenty-Four

I've only a few days left in bonnie Scotland. I can't believe how fast the time has passed. I'll be sad to leave but, at the same time, I don't the front of house work is starting to become a bit boring and I'm in serious need of some of Mammy Kavanagh's home cooking if I'm to avoid developing scurvy.

Admittedly, I've spent a lot of my time (and money) partying this week. I've been out post 4am the past four nights. I even made it to the infamous 'Penny Black' one night, a pub that opens at 6am. Yes, I'm just that hardcore.

I've managed to catch a few shows as well, including 'The Mozart Question' by Michael Morpugo, which was a fantastic one-man show based on a children's book and a fairly awesome Brazilian dance and physical theatre show called 'Balé de Rua'. I've also seen a few more comedy variety shows, featuring the likes of Russell Howard, Alun Cochrane, Jason Byrne and Stuart Francis. I plan on seeing a couple more shows over the weekend, even if it means denying myself a few hours sleep.

Yesterday, I went to the Tracey Emin retrospective exhibition in The Museum of Modern Art, more out of curiousity than anything else. Emin became famous in the 1990's as part of the Young British Artist movement. Her most famous work includes 'My Bed' (an unmade, dirty bed with condoms and blood-stained underwear strewn about it) 'All The Men I've Ever Slept With 1963-1995' (a tent that was destroyed in the Momart warehouse fire of 2004) and her appliqué bedspreads, like the one below.

Emin has experienced some pretty horrific times in her life and the autobiographical and embarrassingly honest nature of her work made me feel a bit voyeuristic. It might seem a bit self-indulgent for her to make herself the main subject of the overwhelming majority of her work but there's no denying that her catalogue of work makes for interesting viewing.

I met up with my friend Marie and her boyfriend briefly on Sunday night as well, which was cool. Originally, I was hoping that a few more of my friends from home would come visit but I reckon that was sort of borne out of a concern that I wouldn't make any friends and would be bopping around by myself for the duration of the festival. Thankfully, that wasn't how things worked out.

I really think there's a lot to be said for travelling alone, under the right circumstances. The fact that I was relatively familiar with Edinburgh was obviously helpful and working in Assembly Hall allowed me to get to know people. It's all worked out very well.

A little too well if you ask me...

I Tried To Say This Recently But Just Sounded Racist...

"There is a problem marrying someone who speaks your own language imperfectly - all nuance is lost: and with nuance goes humour, irony, sarcasm, subtext, secrets."
William Boyd, 'The Things I Stole'

Edinburgh Diary: Day Two

So, Ryanair screwed me over...

When I booked my flight to Edinburgh, I was semi-outraged to have to pay €15 each way for my checked-in bag. So, you can imagine how objectionable I found it when I arrived at the airport on Wednesday morning and was told I would have to pay €15 PER KILO that my bag was overweight. My bag was 17.8 kilos, which apparently is 3 kilos too many for Ryanair (rounded up to the nearest kilo) and warrants a surcharge of €45.00.

Would. You. Be. Able?

I forked out the cash (well, put it on my newly-acquired credit card) and decided that I was not going to let myself interpret this as a bad omen for my four-week stay in Edinburgh. To Ryanair’s credit, I made it to Edinburgh safe and sound, and on time for my 10am training session.

The training was daunting to begin with. I sat in a room upstairs on George’s Street (which is slightly more grand than our Irish equivalent) and watched as beautiful, trendily-dressed, arty-looking person after beautiful, trendily-dressed, arty-looking person filed into the room. I wished to myself that I had managed a few more exercise sessions before I came or given a bit more thought to the clothes that I’d packed but The Assembly Staff addressing us were really nice and their scatty introductions helped me to relax a bit.

The venue that I’m working in is fairly awesome. It’s a bit like a mini-castle or a church. It has it’s own courtyard called ‘the quad’, lots of portraits of people I can only assume were important at one time or another and seems to play host to Edinburgh University’s School of Divine Studies when not being used as a Fringe Venue.

There are 24 Front of House staff, a lovely, Australian Venue Manager called Gabby, and two Front of House Managers, one of whom is mildly attractive but, rather tragically, has a girlfriend. The pretty people I’m working with all seem friendly enough. I’ve yet to establish a ‘crew’ but hopefully that will happen in time…

In the short time I’ve already seen three shows. The first was ‘The Gala Assembly Press Launch’, which was basically a variety show and featured an onstage meltdown by Michael Barrymore. I wasn’t sure whether to feel sorry for a man that’s clearly still haunted by his spectacular fall from grace or to boo and hiss when he told us not to see his show until we’d ‘learned to be a proper audience’.

‘Krapp’s Last Tape’ by Samuel Beckett, performed by Peter Dineen (who apparently was in ‘Father Ted’) is appropriately described in the Fringe programme as ‘a work of peculiar beauty’. To put it simply: it was weird but I liked it.

Lastly, I saw Jason Byrne tonight performing his ‘Cats Under Mats, Having Chats with Bats’. Byrne’s humour is as silly as the name of his show and I never really liked the stuff I’d seen him do previously. That said, I was definitely impressed with his performance tonight. I liked the way he could speak to someone in the audience and make up something funny off the cuff as well as make something rehearsed look completely spontaneous (like when he conveniently 'tripped over his words' the exact same way he did at the Gala Press Launch to set up a sketch.)

I reckon I’d be a fairly desperate reviewer because I’m far too easily pleased. I’m hoping to see two more shows tomorrow after work so maybe I can ‘get the knives out’ then?

Probably not though.

Edinburgh Diary: Day One

I'm at the airport. It's 5am. Yuck.

Starting my job in 5 hours' time. Ryanair better not screw me over.

Right now, I'm a funny mixture of nervous, excited and tired.

But mostly tired.

And The Nominees Are...

I have no intention for this to become a 'music blog'. However, as I previously mentioned, my life is reasonably happy clappy right now so I've no real need to 'get up on my soapbox' at this moment in time. So, until things come crashing down around me (as they inevitably will), I'm gonna continue on with the magaziney format of posting little tidbits I feel like sharing.

The 2008 Mercury Music Award nominees were announced today. Somewhat surprisingly, Coldplay and Goldfrapp didn't make the cut. Disappointingly, Róisín Murphy's 'Overpowered' album was also denied a nod.

The nominees in full are:

• Adele - 19
• British Sea Power - Do You Like Rock Music?
• Burial - Untrue
• Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid
• Estelle - Shine
• Laura Marling - Alas I Cannot Swim
• Neon Neon - Stainless Style
• Portico Quartet - Knee-Deep In The North Sea
• Rachel Unthank & The Winterset - The Bairns
• Radiohead - In Rainbows
• Robert Plant & Alison Krauss - Raising Sand
• The Last Shadow Puppets - The Age Of The Understatement

Admittedly, the only album I own on the shortlist is The Last Shadow Puppets' début. I was originally anti-Adele because of the hype (and tailor-made Brit Award) that preceded the release of her album '19'. However, I've reluctantly fallen for her charms since hearing 'Hometown Glory' and suspect that her album might actually be worth a listen.

I've never heard of 'Portico Quartet, didn't realise Robert Plant and Alison Krauss had recorded an album together and know very little of British Sea Power, Rachel Unthank or Elbow.

I suspect Estelle is a token 'urban' act. 'American Boy' is a great track but the rest of her stuff sounds pretty bland. Meanwhile, although I concede that Radiohead are one of the most influential acts of my generation, I have come to accept the fact that they're just not 'my bag'.

The three most intriguing contenders for me personally are Burial, Laura Marling and Neon Neon. I like what I've heard of these artists so far and I'm optimistic that one of them might turn out to be this year's Bat for Lashes, who the mercury shortlist kindly brought to my attention this time last year.

Tip to win: Neon Neon - Stainless Style

But what do I know?

Where's Your Head At?

I'm fine. Just fine.

I've been pretty much house-bound for the past few days (thanks to a particularly stubborn throat infection) and it's afforded me a bit of time to pause and reflect on 'where I'm at'. Turns out, I'm reasonably happy.

Which is nice to know, I guess.

I suspect things might get a little more dramatic (in more than one sense of the word) when I relocate to bonnie Edinburgh for August. This is convenient because I imagine that'll probably be pretty close to the time that I'll get bored of being 'content' and set about rocking the boat a little to sabotage the tranquility.

I guess, essentially, this is a blog about not having anything particularly obvious to blog about. I think maybe it's important to crystallise these 'plateaus' though so that, when things do get messy, you have proof that there were good times and there more than likely will be again.

Or maybe I'm talking shit. But hey, isn't that what this blogging business is about?