It wasn’t until I’ve been stopped on the street today by a boy 10 years younger than me who enthusiastically exclaimed “I LOVE your headphones!” that I realised how uncool I became.

I bought those headphones — by a certain not very well known brand I won’t mention — largely due to their cool value; I wanted to buy something that’s damn cool, vislble from a large distance, expensive… but mostly has warranty that covers the damn thing being driven over by a bus. I had replaced four pairs of headphones in the last six months because their injuries were not covered by warranty and to be honest that’s a bit enough. Plus, the bright green colour ensures that fellow cyclists will notice that I am listening to music and, hopefully, ring their bells louder or summat. So I had bought uber-cool expensive headphones because of safety and good warranty.

Those headphones fit absolutely nothing I was wearing, which consisted of black coat (cheap and warm and nice, C&A), blue jeans (big torn ones from H&M, and anyway with my legs you can’t wear fashionable stuff, because fashionable stuff assumes you’re anorexic) and black leather boots (warm, comfy and, erm, that’s about all that can be said about them). Underneath I was rocking a purple scarf, which was covered by the coat and thus invisible, black cardigan and black muscle t-shirt, which is kind of cool, but still doesn’t match those headphones.

A whole other thing is what I have been listening to. It wasn’t what I am listening to right now (i.e. Susan Boyle, whose album I will review here soon), but it wasn’t much better. It was Madonna’s “Open Your Heart”. Which I followed by Annie Lennox’ “Diva” in its entirety.

My coolness reached its peak when “We are technology” was played on the Polish radio repeatedly, Martina and me were doing interviews for MTV and I had a regular DJ slot at a club so cool waiters would ignore you for an hour before lowering themselves to notice your presence, even if you were the only person present apart from staff. I wore the perfectly right clothes, listened to perfectly right music (and played it during my DJ sets), and whatever I would choose to put on would be good, because I was cool. When I had long black hair it was cool, and when I shaved my head leaving a blonde mohawk it was also cool. Mind you, I was also 24.

Thing is, it wasn’t me adapting to become cool; it was simply a great timing that ensured that what I liked was fashionable. I kept on listening to — and playing electronic music from the 80s, it’s just that Felix da Housecat happened to hit a golden mine when he sampled “Passion” by The Flirts for his breakthrough hit “Silver Screen Shower Scene” and followed it by sampling Human League, who themselves attempted a comeback with criminally underrated “All I Ever Wanted”. And then that time has passed, and electro sound has gone back to the underground, and got replaced by indie guitar rock. I stopped DJing, Technologic’s second single didn’t get much love from the radio, and that was about it.

Ever since then I have been doing what everybody does — that includes you, dear reader, as much as that shocks you — aging. At the age of 32 certain routes are closed for me. I will never become a professional tennis player; I will never be Madonna’s dancer; I will never be a teenager again, basically, and I will never be a part of the Twenty-Something Bloggers club. I might still become a professional boxer, but I should hurry up.

Being cool is also about keeping up with the times; with the Current New Sounds, trends in clothes, movies, actors, books, social networking. There’s something called Twilight out there, which features emo twink Robert Pattinson who has been more often than not described as lacking personal hygiene; there’s Lady Gaga, who has an amazing image not supported by music I would like to listen to more than once — she sounds like a third rate Britney Spears, and if I want to listen to Britney, I have the original at hand; the jeans available in the stores are almost exclusively skinny, which is bad news if you happen to work out a lot and you’re not one of those funny people who only exercise their chest and biceps. Generally, I know what’s cool, but I don’t give a shit.

I am not cool anymore. I don’t have time for that. I don’t want to listen to Lady Gaga, Marina And The Diamonds, Florence And The Machine, Ellie Goulding or Owl City simply because they are a New Fresh Thing. I know what Chris Lowe has to say about “even if it’s bad, it’s good because it’s new” and I disagree; I prefer to listen to music that I already KNOW is good, rather than spend my valuable time on listening to stuff that I could possibly like… or not. When faced with a choice between Janet Jackson’s “Number Ones” or Lady Gaga’s “Fame Monster” I will choose Janet. I played Gaga once. She didn’t set my world on fire. I played the CD again, and it got on my nerves. There will be no third chance. I’m BUSY.

Why buy a new pair of jeans that won’t fit me if I can wear my old leather pants that do? Why subscribe to Facebook, Twitter, formspring.me and 40 other uber-fashionable social networking sites if I don’t have time to meet my friends — actual living breathing humans — for drinks? Why would I bother listening to Florence And The Machine’s album if singles bored me to tears? Why would I watch mega-stupid people on “Jersey Shore” if I still haven’t found time to watch “City of Angels”?

Yes I know — admitting that makes me uncool. But so what? I’m 32. I will never be cool again, unless I become a celebrity writer (you can be a cool celebrity writer at the age of 60) simply because I am ancient. Seeing what MTV has become (my gym often has MTV on) makes me mutter sentences containing the words “youth of today” and “when I was younger, MTV played music”. I have no interest in being cool ever again unless I get paid for it, and it would better be GOOD money.

There is only one problem with my resolutions for 2010, and that is the fact that I have loads of them, and I don’t really see days being expanded to 36 hours to accommodate all that I want to do.

First, I want to record new music. Not just go on about it and about how I haven’t got inspiration, but, like, sit my lazy ass at the Big Mac and DO IT. I have done some exciting stuff in the past, and most of it happened when I wasn’t trying to do commercial music but just did it because I was feeling creative. I am feeling like being creative again. Whether it is the loooooong elaborated over triphop record or a Depeche Mode circa 1986 record, remains to be seen, but at least one of them has to be completed in 2010.

Second, and that’s kind of connected, I have to write more. Not just blog more, although that could be good as well (seeing as Typing in Stereo turned into Here’s Where I Post My Chart blog). Fiction perhaps? (I’m a bit too young for memoirs, no matter what Geri Halliwell with two to her name before the age of 14 has to say about that.) Perhaps the long-rumoured fitness blog with REGULAR updates? I’ll see. But, again, one of those has to happen in 2010.

Third, I am going back to my “challenge” and by that I mean that I haven’t quite been asked to participate in the six-pack competition that my workmates are having, but that doesn’t mean I can’t win it anyway. I’ve been going on about how I will one day have visible abs that I can as well put the beer away and do it. (Note: I am NOT going to not drink anything on New Year’s Eve. There is dedication and there is sheer masochism.) Here’s my 2010 resolution: abs inspiring teenage girls to spontaneously combust.

Fourth, raygrant.com has to actually get some content. Other than “coming soon”. And by the way, I redesigned Typing in Stereo, but it never progressed past Photoshop. Time to turn that into code. Both have to happen in 2010.

Fifth, I have looooooong wanted to go to a hip-hop dance class, and always thought, I’d soooo like to do it, but really, I’d probably be the oldest kid present. They would point at me, laugh and call me “grandpa”. Thing is, I keep on thinking that I would love to go and I also keep on not becoming any younger. In 2010 I will join a dance class. (And that’s in addition to Manfriend’s suggestion that we should join a ballroom dancing class.)

Sixth, I will buy new underwear. Yes I know that sounds easy, but I have a rather refined taste, and nothing that I have seen in the last four months satisfied it with the exception of underwear that is so obscenely outside my budget that I had to censor it out of my head (and my credit card statement). There must be wearable underwear below 100 euro a pair in the world, and I am determined to track it. In 2010. (This one has to happen, because I am not yet ready to become one of those men who wear stretched boxers with holes in the crotch area.)

And seventh, which is kind of connected with third, I am sticking to the gym. I paid for a year in advance Mozdammit and I am not letting that money go to waste. I will not be one of those heterosexuals people who age gracefully and dress their age and grow beer guts and say things like “my metabolism slowed down after thirty, that’s why I’m no longer thin” while eating pizza and trying to beat their own record in sitting down without getting up.

Eighth, ninth and tenth? I’ll keep on the good work and improve the weaker bits. I’ll be an amazing designer, even better boyfriend, get more tattoos (you can never have enough hats, gloves and tattoos), do some courses, continue with yoga on a weekly rather than “erm, I promise to come to the class sometime soon” basis, and generally I will be like a cross between Madonna (minus crotch-pumping and cameltoe), Hugh Jackman and Marian Keyes. Mind you, with my luck that could mean being regularly mistaken for a 50-year-old, becoming all hairy and spending some time in rehab, but hey! if it makes me bloody rich and gets me piles of awards, I’m going to try.

What are your resolutions? Anything particularly unusual?

I remember looking at Rihanna and Chris Brown and going all gooey and soft at the magical story of two young, insanely beautiful singers being in luuuurve. I don’t rate either especially high as far as singing goes — Rihanna’s voice is on the irritating side of things and Chris’s use of autotune places him as second only to Kanye West — but it was still a pretty story.

Until, you know, he beat her up.

It is the events afterwards that amaze me more than the beatdown. Violence in relationships isn’t exactly a new discovery that wasn’t known before the Chris/RiRi case. Not even in showbusiness couples — Ike and Tina anyone? Madonna and Sean Penn? It is the reactions to the story that worry me more than anything else.

The most worrying bit is the news that Rihanna and Chris are getting back together. (I’m even reading about a wedding.) The police report apparently mentions it is not the first time that Brown beat her up; also, he allegedly threatened to kill her. There was blood all over the car and on her clothes. It wasn’t exactly a little push-up between friends. And she is even thinking about getting back with him? Why?

I am reading that various websites think it is a good idea to have polls asking “which side are you on in the Chris Brown/Rihanna conflict”. Seriously? One person beats the other up violently and I’m supposed to take SIDES? Oooh well let me consider all the facts first, yeah, she might have provoked him, the slut. (In other news, if a woman gets raped, she was most probably dressed provocativelym and any homosexuals beaten up deserve that for flaunting their disgusting sexual orientation.) Well let me break the news here exclusively — there is no such thing as justified violence. There is justified self-defense, but somehow I do not think that Rihanna beat Chris up first. There are no sides to be taken here.

I encounter comments by Members of General Public — such as the one at The Frisky: “i see y she got back with him his HOTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and y do people care this is between them so got out of the bussiness!!!!!!!!!!  XOXO I LOVE WITH CHRIS BROWN” Not all people who write comments along the lines of that are actually illiterate. Some possess the ability to say the same shit in full sentences: “This is their private business”. As you know, I believe personal to be political; especially then the private business happens to be showbusiness. There is a lot of money to be made from Chris Brown’s career, and not just by Brown himself; his albums have sold over six million copies before he turned 20. He is signed to Jive Records, who are owned by Sony Music Entertainment. There are people who have major financial interest in Chris’s career continuing, and while I would hate to hear from any lawyers about that, I imagine those people might have accidentally dialled Rihanna and suggested that perhaps Chris was just displaying artistic temperament and it would be very sweet if she took him back into her loving arms — and here’s a little diamond necklace to dry your tears, honey. (By the way, you might have heard that Rihanna doesn’t actually have much money, since the proceeds from her hits have been used to fund videos and promotion. That’s record labels for you.)

Chris has, of course, shown a lot of well publicised remorse. He has decided to take anger management classes. (Not that I know how he found time for them while busy jet-skiing at Puff Daddy’s mansion, but hey, maybe he’s got, like, a private anger management tutor who works with him when Chris has a minute or two.) He also mentioned that he is seeking the counselling of his “pastor, mother and the other loved ones” and “with God’s help” will emerge a “better person”. Well congratulations to you Chris, it makes me happy to see that you see the positive sides of having beaten up your girlfriend.

To finish off, I’d like to add it’s quite an interesting thing that Usher, who mentioned he wasn’t too happy to see Chris relaxing by the poolside instead of taking anger managing classes, has now taken his comments back saying: “The comments made during a recent recording session amongst friends were taken out of context and blown out of proportion. I apologize on behalf of myself and my friends if anyone was offended. The intentions were not to pass judgment and we meant no harm. I respect and wish the best for all parties involved.” Oooh, that doesn’t sound like lawyerese at all! We applaud your bravery Usher, while duly noting that you are signed to LaFace Records, owned by Sony Music Entertainment, and that the sales of your last album currently stand at 2 million, which is somewhat less than Chris Brown’s over 3 million copies.

PS. After publishing the post I found the link to the police report on cnn.com. Chris Brown has now been officially charged with two felonies.

This has been posted on the Popjustice forum in response to a question by another poster: “Do you really enjoy music nowadays?”

*

Because of the downloads music lost a lot of its magic. There is nothing like a record difficult to trace. When Saint Etienne issued Method Of Modern Love recently only in the UK, people bitched to the skies about how irritating and wrong it was. I still got my copies through the old-fashioned method of asking a fellow Brit’s help. And I have to say I was thrilled when they arrived in my postbox. But, simultaneously, I was pissed off to have to wait a WEEK until I get them. And now I ripped them to my itunes library and there is no difference between a .m4a of “Method of Modern Love” and, say, .m4a of “Umbrella” as far as it comes to playability, sound quality or, well, anything else. They’re just files.

We live in the time of More. More jobs, more music, more lovers, more food/drinks/drugs than we could even think about 30 years ago. And all of those things lose value. It’s too easy to get stuff. Music is too cheap (or, in most cases, you can find it for free within a minute). We know too much about musicians — look at the Chris Brown and Rihanna case, I don’t WANT to know all those details, I don’t want to see the photographs, read about her father/grandfather/manager publishing statements, yet I am morbidly fascinated by how this is developing. I don’t want my pop stars like Britney, televised 24 hours a day. “NEWSFLASH: BRITNEY DRINKS FRAPPUCCINO!!1!” I want my pop stars like Mylene Farmer who doesn’t have an official website, myspace or facebook profile. I don’t want free downloads, with no booklets or credits, available at a click of the mouse. I want records to be difficult to find, expensive and unavailable, because then once I get what I looked for I feel so… privileged.

Once I went to a record fair in Utrecht, looking for two records: Sparks’ “Hello Young Lovers” and Electronic’s “Electronic” on vinyl. I found Sparks first, hidden in the “new wave” section of some stall or other. But nobody seemed to have Electronic. I was exhausted at the end of the day, having seen far too many records (and not that many buyers) but I decided to go through one last box before going home. And there it was — the German pressing of “Electronic”, missing Gangster (WHY?!), 10 euro. I was thrilled beyond imagination, tiredness suddenly went away and I was almost shaking in excitement. The elusive record WAS MINE. And I found it. And it was difficult, and it took lots of time, but it didn’t matter. It’s like climbing a mountain, I suppose.

Let’s compare that to Morrissey’s recent Years Of Refusal. I already knew two songs and thought they were crap, the two singles on his Greatest Hits. I downloaded the album two months before release from some site or other. Didn’t even play it once, only played Paris and that was it. Then this week I played it, twice, declared it “not bad”. It is now filed in my library of downloads. I am done with it. Next! (I will buy the vinyl, though, once I find it a bit cheaper than 18 UKP Amazon charge for it. I like the cover, I want that in large size.)

I believe Pet Shop Boys are taking the wrong route with the release of Yes. The itunes download has bonus tracks and a track-by-track commentary. But I believe people who download albums don’t care about crap like that. They want their quick fix. That’s all. They don’t care about the commentary or artwork or what the artist has to say. They just want the “product”. I believe it should be the CD that gets a DVD with in-studio commentary; something as simple as PSB filmed in the studio, songs playing in the background, PSB talking about the songs.

I have read an article recently about how Internet made people more lonely, because the “contact” we get through forums/MSN/whatever means that we don’t have to go out and face actual humans. But people are wired to be social. To be physically social with each other; to talk using their mouths and ears, to touch using hands, to drink beers at pubs, to enjoy music at gigs, talk about a record one is carrying under his or her arm, make music at a rehearsal studio (said a guy who recorded an album with a friend living in Austria using ICQ, email etc. to send each other tracks and comments). Not to download music for free, put it on our ipods, then put on headphones to cut ourselves away from strangers.

No, we don’t miss much in these times. In the last years I never had the problem I used to have constantly in the 90s — that I would hear a great song and I wouldn’t know who it is by and I wouldn’t even know who to ask. These days I find out about new music through PJ, going through ukmix release schedule and downloading stuff that sounds like it could possibly be interesting (which means that if a new exciting electronic pop act call themselves TJ feat. Shontelle and their new single is “Get Off Ur Booty” I am 95% certain to never listen to it), through music blogs and friends. I never listen to the radio, and when I do, it plays “Romantic Hits of the 80s”. If there is any good music I miss, I remain oblivious to the fact, because if I knew about it, I would have it on my hard drive within five minutes.

I suppose I could stop downloading stuff and, like my friend, stick to CDs and vinyls. Refuse to purchase a download, ever ever. Basically, act like someone who says “goddammit I am never getting into one of those modern ‘car’ things, what is wrong with a horse and carriage or a good ole’ steam train?!”. But I don’t think I could. Not in the age of 99% singles sold in the UK being downloads. I’d have to withdraw myself from all music forums, which discuss a song/album/remix package five minutes after it has leaked, and then once it is released three months later nobody even remembers what it sounded like.

I suppose Generation More might have turned, without realising, into Generation Too Much.

Chocolate Salty Balls

I am aware of the fact today is Tuesday, just treat this as a pre-New Year’s lost classic then.

Isaac Hayes’ discography is extensive, much sampled (there would be no Hoover[phonic] or Massive Attack without Isaac Hayes) and includes only one UK hit single — this one. Number one in the UK and Ireland, “Chocolate Salty Balls” was released 20 years after Hayes’ last single, “Zeke The Freak”. As the ever-so-reliable Wikipedia tells us, it has never been played on BBC’s Top Of The Pops, because it hit #1 in the Christmas chart, in the week when TOTP was not filmed; this spared the BBC some embarrassment that would have surely arisen from playing a song that goes “suck on my chocolate salty balls/put them in your mouth and suck ‘em/they’re all fine, baby”. The Southpark video on the other hand was played many, many times on MTV — I remember loving it big time, but strangely not being a fan of the song itself (it reached #10 on my chart and remained there for 10 weeks). Well, I was wrong. It’s brilliant.

Here it comes:

1   1   3  HEART OF WAX
Vanessa Daou
2   2   5  OVERTURE
The Unbending Trees feat. Tracey Thorn
3   6   3  QUICKSAND
La Roux
4   3   4  IF I KNOW YOU
Presets
5   5   2  WHITE IS IN THE WINTER NIGHT
Enya
6   !   1  POCKET (REDUX)
Sam Sparro
7   7   4  LHUNA
Coldplay and Kylie Minogue
8   9   4  THAT’S NOT MY NAME
Dizzee Rascal feat. Chromeo
9   4   9  BEDROOM EYES
Natty
10  10   7  SINGLE LADIES (PUT A RING ON IT)
Beyonce

(more…)

I Miss You UK CD1

The sixth single off Björk’s second album Post had an animated video — directed by John Kricfalusi/Spümc?, creator of Ren & Skimpy — which was colourful and appealed to children. It’s just that the content of the video wasn’t up to the parental visions of what cartoons should look like. Chicken torn into pieces, animated characters frantically searching for their genitals and moving condoms implanted as if by magic where Björk’s boobies should have been were considered too shocking — as a result the video was often aired in its censored, rubberboobie-less version — or not at all.

The song itself is probably my favourite Björk single. It is also one of her smallest chart successes (no doubt largely due to the fact it was the sixth single off a platinum selling #2 album) peaking at #34. Produced by Howie B, the single featured a plethora of shittylicious remixes (strangely enough Björk’s remixes were comparable in their shiteness only to Pet Shop Boys’ remixes — it’s quite amazing how both those artists managed to inspire the world’s best remixers’ worst achievements). The song’s vocals have been re-recorded for the remastered version of Post and the result was disastrous. It is quite sad how such a great track attracted such bad luck — but the amazingness of the video more than makes up for it.

Watch the video:

Joe Sent Me

“Joe Sent Me” is the first Vanessa Daou album since 2001’s “Make You Love”; it is also her first record not to be produced by Peter Daou. It sounds both familiar and very, very different to her previous work. The voice is different; less sweet, less processed, more raw and with a slightly rough edge. The sound is very different too, and that’s a good thing.

The Peter Daou production, so revolutionary in its sensual sound on 1994’s “Zipless” hasn’t evolved much. The slightly more daring excursions into jazz and drum’n'bass on “Dear John Coltrane,” were gone from “Make You Love”. While “Make You Love” undoubtedly perfected the electronic sound of the Daous, it was barely daring sonically; tracks like “Show Me” or “Juliette” could have been anyone’s, “Aphrodite” or “A Little Bit of Pain” would have sounded perfectly in place on seven years old “Zipless”.

“Joe Sent Me” is dramatically different. There is jazz, and there is electronica, and there is Vanessa’s voice, but that’s about all that connects those records. “Hurricanes” reminds me of Air’s “Virgin Suicides”. “True” is Vanessa’s voice and acoustic guitar — SHOCKING!!1! “Black And White” sounds like some strange collaboration between Goldfrapp and a jazz band. “Life Force”, incredibly intrinsic sonically (this is very much a headphones record) and “Manifesto” wouldn’t fit on any previous Daou record — and I suspect that’s why it opens the album, a true manifesto of a new sound. “Love Lives In The Dark” sounds like Massive Attack (and oh my, the thought of Vanessa working with Massive Attack makes me ecstatic). This is very much a new record by an artist who hasn’t said her final word.

The sexiness and sensuality, always present in Vanessa’s records, take a new dimension here; she isn’t the androgynous girl who sung “Sunday Afternoons” anymore — she is, very much, a very grown up woman. The girl is still present in the songs like “Heart Of Wax”; but it is a very different person who wrote “Joe Sent Me”. “And don’t be thinking/you’re the only one/who knows” she warns, and shivers go down my spine. “Here’s the pen you gave me/to write my poetry/I said I’d give it back to you the day you stop inspiring me/Here’s the glass, it’s empty” begins “Black And White” and, again, the thrill is almost physical. Those lyrics were worth waiting seven years for.

The album has weaker points, but not many. “Consequences”, dancey and melodical in its Blank + Jones incarnation, sounds strangely flat here, as if the band was playing a different song to the one Vanessa is singing. Replace it with the Blank + Jones version and you’re done. “Once In A While” isn’t exactly a bad track, it’s just the least remarkable in this collection, drifting nowhere for its 5 minutes and 24 seconds. That’s it. The rest is all essential listening. Especially “Black And White”, sublime “Heart Of Wax” and “Joe Sent Me” should make it into everyone’s sonic libraries, like, NOW.

Which brings me to a really strange point — it looks like the album is ONLY available through www.daourecords.com (where I purchased it). It is a beautiful release, the physical CD looks much better than the scans available online, but in this day and age it is commercial suicide to ignore any digital vendors. Personally I like the fact Vanessa Daou is such a well hidden secret, but the fan in me wishes to see her topping the charts everywhere, and I don’t think selling the CD only through her website is going to help her achieve that. This album deserves much more recognition; and Vanessa deserves to make enough money to finance another release. So please buy it, everyone.

Vanessa Daou myspace
Vanessa Daou website
Daou Records

Truly beautiful in a quite undescribable way. (Thanks to Sporothrix for making me aware of this phenomenon.)

Joe Sent Me

Stop press: I have received the new Vanessa Daou album by post.

There is something extremely exciting about getting an actual CD by post. One that you can’t buy at the nearest record shop and you wouldn’t ever want to download illegally from a torrent site. One that you wanted for months and now you are listening to for the first time with hands shaking from excitement — and you haven’t felt like that since Pet Shop Boys’ “Bilingual” in the Nineties.

A very very extensive review will follow soon.