..
tell me to tell me that he was 29 years old, that he was serious about his rap
music, that one of his rap nom-de-plumes was Jules Rockwell, that he
was registered with Centrelink, that his mother would prefer it if he could
hold down a steady job and that she preferred Massive Attack and Portishead
to his rap music, (which she thought monotonous), and that he had been off booze
and drugs for eleven months, (but he still smoked cigarettes). He gave me a
extemporised-on-the-spot sample of his rapping style, delivered in a halting
monotone indistinguishable from his normal speech – thankfully he didn’t
seem to want my opinion.
I was slightly apprehensive for a couple of seconds when he first approached
me, but he didn’t rant or seem to be unbalanced in any way, except that
he‘d taken it upon himself to talk to me. Was it my inherent
anxiety he’d been attracted to, or did he sense a kindred musical spirit?
In any case, it seemed that he just wanted to chat – maybe needed
to chat so as to escape his personal demons for those few minutes.
Perhaps because I’m used to living alone I don’t feel the need to
chat and, anyway, I’m not very good in socialising situations, a failing
compounded by poor hearing and an appalling memory for names. I’m sure
you’ve noticed that many cafés these days are deliberately designed to
be acoustically loud, perhaps so they sound vibrant and exciting to the equivocating
potential customer unable to make a decision based on sensible criteria, (like
what they might like to eat or how much they have to spend etc). And,
of course, I mean a young customer, because I don’t know anybody
of my vintage who would willingly be subjected to this aural torture, unless,
of course, there was a free meal in it. Anyway, I prefer to eat – and chat –
in a less challenging ambience.
The Christmas buskers are officially on the streets, (there were a couple
of Asian trombonists in Santa hats busking away near Choclatté this
morning whom I wanted to despise, but they were actually quite good), and
the tension is starting to build in the streets and in the car parks. It’s
getting close to that time when I’ll have to draw up my New Year’s
Resolutions for 2010. This year’s didn’t even get printed, let
alone pinned on the cork notice board in the studio. I wrote down some suggestions
for myself in my diary on the plane to Sydney. Coming in at No. 1 was ‘MOVE
HOUSE’. I can’t believe that I still haven’t actually done
it, despite my strategy of telling loads of people (years ago) that I simply
had to move ‘cause the place is literally falling down and the sewers
are on the nose and now the shower barely functions. I guess I’m becoming
immune to the shame of being seen as a repeat procrastinator.
No. 2 was ‘Complete new BS EP’ The third in the series, Breathing
Space As Well, is 80% done, but the remaining 20% is comprised of the
hard bits. I’m not sure there’s a standout track in the list either,
so we might have to record another track yet – or perhaps even another
two..
Bro’ Dick and I were going to produce a weekly/monthly show reviewing
pinots – we even filmed one episode and I got as far as composing a
theme tune and then it sort of fell into a hole – the Black Hole of Unrealised
Good Ideas. I noted in my diary that I should revive the idea and get Dick
back on track. That could be fun to do and fun to look at. I’ll have
make a date with Dick to do lunch and have a chat about it..