Twitter Updates for 2008-12-28
- - babies add unquantifiable chaos to any room. #
The wait until the broadcast of the new Doctor Who Christmas special is seemingly endless. Ten days to go. Ten whole days… However, Auntie Beeb has given us a new trailer to keep us going. Sadly, it is only available to those in the UK via the Official Doctor Who site, here. Honestly there is no other way to watch it. Well, unless of course you don’t mind this You Tube version that I have embedded below. It looks fantastic. The 25th can’t come quick enough.
After too long I turned my hand to writing a review the other night. If you are following me on Twitter then you will have seen that I mentioned that it turned in to something of a rant. I’m not sure what forced me to vent my spleen on this particular record (it will remain nameless for the time being) but even though the resultant rant was, well… ranty, it was entertaining.
It reminded me of something that I said a while ago that writing bad reviews (and by that I mean giving something a bad review rather than writing the review badly) was pretty easy; turning a review into something that was even-handed is hard. It is not big or clever to tear into someones art due to laziness. Someone has sweat blood and tears over it. In the case of Axl Rose, someone has spent a large portion of their life working on it. That said, slagging the crap out of the record in question was pretty cathartic. It is not finished yet but here is an excerpt:
The band has taken a template forged in the sixties and slavishly recreated it with little imagination. Guitars swirl, distort, and of course reverse. Vocals sound like a very pissed Phil Spector recorded them from the other end of an exceptionally long tunnel. There is even the conceit that there are two sides to the record like the compact disc that the recording is burned onto was never invented. There are not two sides. In reality, there is barely one song.
…and so it goes on. I asked on Twitter whether ranting was still considered writing, one of my friends responded with the helpful advice:
No. Ranting is vitriolic unfiltered garbage that emerges from the deep dark cesspit inside you.
Writing is self-indulgent edited garbage that emerges from the creative side of your brain.
I didn’t get around to thanking him. I think he was trying to help and he has a point. Self-indulgent edited garbage that emerges from the creative side of your brain cuts both ways. All art to a greater or lesser extent is garbage. Someone, somewhere will hate it with such passion that you will wonder why you bothered. The artist presumably bothers because s/he wanted to provoke an emotional response from someone, anyone. In that event then vitriol should also be an acceptable reaction. People like the above, nameless band or Axl Rose or Tracey Emin or anyone that puts something out into the public domain sets themselves up for such criticism. Furthermore, I argue that they do it on purpose. They open themselves up for attack from without, from people like me. Moreover, by writing reviews, ranty or otherwise I open myself up for similar attack. I guess we all just want to have our opinions heard and even recognition that someone can’t stand what you did might be recognition enough. I guess what my less than scholarly deductions are pointing to is the conclusion that tearing into a peice of art is fine because the creator would want that. Thus, giving me carte blanche to be mean in print to some poor deluded fool (or fools) who thought that they had produced a good record.
Or I could be looking for an excuse to write more rants …because it was fun.
To view more of my bile on follow me on Twitter @marcaprice
Sorry but this just cracked me up:
Norma Woods, a cleaner, had come in for hair straighteners but they didn’t have any so she bought two irons instead for £3.98 each. “I reckon I have saved a pound,” she said. “I am really sad about Woolies going. There used to be a shop near where I lived as a kid and I used to go in and nick sweets because I thought the pic’n'mix was free.
I now have a mental image of Norma attempting to straighten her hair with two irons.
It is from this story in the Guardian. It is quite a sad tale. Where am I going to nick my pick ‘n’ pix from now? http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2008/dec/12/woolworths-street-retailers
I remember as a boy being caught pinching pick ‘n’ mix from Woolies by my Mother. She frog marched us all back to the store and made us give the 2 or 3 sweets back and apologise to the staff. I valuable lesson learned. Thank you Woollies. You helped my development as a human being.
I’ve been away a while gazing at my navel and wondering “what the hell?”, “why the hell?” and “who gives a fuck?” I came to no conclusions. I have been in the wilderness hunting for my own particular kind of agave that will bring me to my senses. Something did happen that pulled me up by my bootstraps, slapped me and apparently forced me to write exclusively in clichés. And it is very cool. More of that later.
I was also bitten by the Twitter bug. I signed up to this phenomenon months ago, used it twice and then forgot all about it. Somehow I came across it again, I think as a result of my recent iPhone acquisition (very happy about that too). Anyway, the little bird pecked at me until I could stand it no longer. I have been cyberstalking (at least that is how it feels) a bunch of individuals in various states of celebrity. I receive regular updates from TV stars, journalists, and a few folk I’ve never heard of. What’s it all about? Why am I bothering? Not sure, that is something for my analyst to answer. Whenever I get one that is.
I find the whole thing faintly voyeuristic. In a good way, if that it possible. It is “reality” Internet. It’s like watching Celebrity Big Brother in text form. Stephen Fry tells me of his little trip to the shops to get a transformer, Greg Grunberg posts photos from the set of “Heroes”, and Warren Ellis is charmingly belligerent. I’m sure it will lose its sheen after a while but for now I’m tweeting like mad with all my new buddies. OK so only Stephen Fry has actually bothered to add me as a friend so far, but it is early days yet. I’m still finding my way around. I still can’t settle on which application to use. More of that next time.
Follow me @marcaprice
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