Londonward

Hanging out with a friend who’s into records as well as following a fledgling art project related to music packaging has kindled my interest in vinyl and records as more than the music contained within. I’ve been aware of vinyl collectors’ passion for their chosen medium, but it took seeing the original pressing of Alice Cooper’s School’s Out LP fold out into a school desk that I became aware of the wonderful world allowed by traditional vinyl packaging.

It’s not just the gimmicky packages either - I finally have seen for myself what record enthusiasts mean by the artwork constraints of the CD booklet format. And it’s not strictly about vinyl either - you can make absolutely stunning stuff in a format that barely covers the CD itself. It’s something more, something deeper, like an extra dimension built around the actual recording. Anyone can slap up a CD and a booklet into a jewel case. It takes care and a shared vision between the artist(s) and the body that releases the music to create something like June of 44’s Engine Takes to the Water or the Latitudes series, encompassing passion for music and a minimalist but intricate packaging that celebrates the moment - down to the individual image displayed in the series frame.

I can now see why people fork out large sums of money for 7″ singles. They can be works of art in themselves, not necessarily limited to the traditional 2-track A-side and B-side format. Etchings into the B-sides, special coloured vinyl editions or picture discs all enhance the experience the listener has, not necessarily through the music itself but through a sort of peripheral experience. It’s not strictly about the music, or the format the music is in - I’ve seen great records that contain the music both on vinyl and on a CD sold within the release, as well as vinyl releases that come with rights to download a high-quality copy onto a computer.

It’s about ownership. It’s about bringing owning a copy of music back to something tangible. These days everyone listents to music on the go, music stored on computers, music not in conventional formats. For me, the CD’s I have bought in the past few years (there aren’t many) have been straight-to-mp3 rips that just sit on the shelf. There rarely is anything that would keep me coming back to the actual CD, anything that would make me go “hey, check this out” to a friend both about the music and the packaging.

I wholeheartedly support limited releases now. If someone has the passion to think up a whole concept to surround, illustrate and accompany their music, I applaud it. It doesn’t have to be mass-produced. I don’t place value as such on hand-numbered records or hand-drawn portions of the cover, but I do value commitment and passion for art. Wonderful packaging often accompanies passion-driven music, not money-grabbing “limited releases”. That’s why some artists give the listener the music in an alternative format for free. Others could repackage it and sell it separately. But it’s not about the music as such - it’s about the whole, the experience.

Sometimes you wake up before 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning because of a strange, repetitive sound around you. After confused listening, you realize it’s just your housemate banging some guy she brought home. It’s annoying at first, but over half an hour of the bed scraping against the wall and making your door rattle in its frame just makes it comical.

I’m glad I don’t have school or work tomorrow, though.

I find the way people treat common space here disgusting. Specifically, I’m talking about buses. I’m over the teenagers playing music at an ear-splitting volume from the back seats, I can usually crank my own headphones louder. It’s the disregard for cleanliness that’s getting to me right now. People, usually young men, casually toss wrappers, chewing gum, food and other things on the floor of the bus. Out of sight, out of mind. That is, until people want to sit in a seat where all the legroom is taken by crumpled-up paper, spilled drinks and assorted other gunk. That’s when you get people, usually women, put their noses up and smack their lips, possibly muttering something about “can’t they ever get these buses cleaned.”

But that’s the whole issue, isn’t it? A bus in London is probably in constant use throughout most of the day. It can’t be constantly being cleaned. I have a feeling they don’t go through every bus every night - and even if they did, cleaning stuck-in gum off the seats and curry sauce off the floors probably isn’t on the cards. Yesterday I saw a guy across the aisle casually throw his unfinished jerk chicken with rice and peas under the seat in front of him. When someone steps in the mess, they suffer. But it isn’t the guy’s problem - he doesn’t care.

I suspect that if public transport cleaning services were cut, it would lead to massive complaints. People would complain to TfL about the filthy vehicles, and not realize they themselves are the cause.

A little civility, people. Please.

This BBC article describes the Shipping Forecast as baffling and mystical, and I would have to agree. Hearing its 9-minute rhythmic staccato readout at night or at dawn transports you instantly to a world so unlike the urban, slick neon environment I inhabit that it feels like a message sent from a time long gone. The strange names, from Cromarty, to Dogger, to Viking, sound like code names in an espionage thriller. Being followed by numbers and adjectives in seemingly random fashion (to a landlubber at least) increases its mysticism. The calm, composed BBC English readout continues by listing the weather conditions at coastal stations. That later section resembles the Finnish coastal report that I am more familiar with, and isn’t as fascinating to me - it’s something to do with the mental image of fishing vessels plowing the rough waters of the North Sea close to Iceland listening into the broadcast to know what to expect.

Go on, have a listen yourself.