'Whatever happened to The Gaddafi Brothers?' asked my brother. 'If only they'd kept at it,' he said, 'they might have made a name for themselves.' I checked with Ronnie: 'They played one gig at Caistor Youth Club and split up.' This is a picture of a typical audience member:
Suitably inspired, Ronnie went on to play bass in GAS-S! 'We played three gigs, made an unnerving, feedback-drenched, god awful sound and bowed out, unknown.'
In later years, Ronnie and me would play in a number of equallyforlornbands together. But The Gaddafi Brothers and their honorary father's demise reminded me of my own earlier claim to fame.
Back in 1985, instead of studying hard for my A-Levels so that I could go to university, I was watching Stardust and dreaming of becoming a rock star with my mates. We played one gig outside our small home town, supporting Ghost Dance at Cleethorpes' Submarine, opposite the pier, and left for London shortly afterwards in a Toyota Hiace converted to hold our guitars and amps as well as sleep the three of us. We arrived in Poplar in the East End and met up with Dunc, who we knew from school, and who was now an anarchist. Dunc had told us on a previous recce that he could get us fixed up with a squat to live in.
I remember one gig we played at a pub nearby (The Buccaneer?) where the audience totalled the barman and a couple of people playing pool in the room next door. I also have a memory of spending the day recording our demo tape in a studio only to come home and find all our stuff in black bin bags outside as we'd been evicted. Still, we got a much nicer place by the canal instead.
We escaped with our lives and our guitars, and it can't have been long after that we decided we weren't really cut out to be rock stars after all and headed back up north to the relative safety of home.
I never thought that this day would ever come
When your words and your touch just struck me numb
Oh and it's plain to see that it's dead
The thing swims in blood and it's cold stoney dead
It's so hard not to feel ashamed
Of the loving living games we play
Each day
And I'm stuck in a shack
Down the back of the sea
Oh and I'm alive and I'm alone
Inside a sick sick dream
Oh is it me?
Is it me that feels so weak?
I cannot deceive but I find it hard to speak
The hardest walk you could ever take
Is the walk you take from A to B to C
I walk
Oh honey I talk
Don't want you to want me
Don't want you to need me
Don't want you to need me
Don't want you to need me
I don't care about Gordon restating his suggestions for how we could improve our 'workflow' for recording, editing and publishing, which he also aired on the show he appeared on.
I don't care. Because I've heard it all before - on 17 April, to be precise - and responded to it all on 19 April.
The full unedited recording we did with Gordon for TINAP episode 3 on 13 April was over 3 hours long. I edited it down to under an hour in less than four days, mostly cutting out Gordon rambling on interminably repeating the same old clichéd moronic monorant we'd heard twice already.
There were no markers
Gordon declined our offer to look at and contribute to our pre-show notes, which are a rough guide to what we want to talk about in some kind of order. If Gordon had accepted, he would have seen all the 'markers' he needed to know what was going on and coming up in the show.
Result is a single audio file
When we recorded the shows we did with Skype we uses Skype Call Recorder to do so, which records two tracks, one locally of me and one of everyone else on the call. The result, therefore, is two audio files.
Advice was not only unwanted, but deemed hostile. As I have tried to help them with a faster and easier workflow, it was rejected [sic]
Here's what I emailed to Gordon on 19 April in response to his email feedback of 17 April:
Gordon,
Thanks for taking the time and effort to share your thoughts and write some voluminous feedback for us.
We will certainly take some of your suggestions into consideration for future episodes, especially trying to finish the whole thing in two hours.
We did actually record a special show on Scottish football, but when I had edited it down to the relevant, funny, interesting bits, there was nothing left. Literally.
Seriously, though, I'm glad you enjoyed the experience and yes, it was never meant to be an interview, so, once again, thanks for joining us for a chat on the sofa. It seems that plenty of people enjoyed it, too, some even suggesting it was the best episode yet.
I'm sorry you feel let down by the final edit, though. I was aware of a few rough cuts, but felt that it hung together OK and actually presented you in a concise and positive way. If you can give me any precise examples of cuts you think are too brutal and spoil the conversational flow, please let me know and, while I can't undo what's done, I can learn from that for future edits.
Thanks also for explaining again how Roy produces the TechBytes podcast (I hope Roy recovers from his bout of the runs soon - but all credit to him for soldiering on and calling from the john). As I'm sure I said to you on Skype before we officially 'went on stage', we set out from the beginning to record our podcast the way we do it and edit what we consider to be the best bits into shape for the published show. I also explained to you that you would receive a preview of the edit with the opportunity to suggest changes before publishing, which you subsequently declined to listen to, saying on identica that you trusted my edits.
As it's all done now, I'm not sure what I can do to change how let down you feel. Is there anything you would like me or us to do?
I would also suggest that your email feedback might form the basis of a good blog post, which I'm sure would attract plenty of new readers, too. As Andy says, we're big boys and we can take it - both praise and constructive criticism.
Best wishes,
David
Gordon emailed back the same day to say:
there was nothing to undo
that I shouldn't edit out any 'ums' and 'ahs' (nor presumably any silences, noise, slanderous or boring bits)
he could give no specific examples of my 'brutal' editing
he did not feel misrepresented by the cuts I made
it's our show and not his place to give us advice on how we should do it
The first episode took ages in editing, so I'd hoped that by declining my part in the clearance process, that the episode would be released a bit quicker. It still took ages.
We recorded over 3 hours of audio on 13 April and released under 1 hour of edited audio on 17 April.
The problem is if you're going to take weeks to edit something, people kinda expect better as a final output. Something of this audio quality shouldn't take weeks to edit and release, specially with noticeable butchered cuts.
We recorded over 3 hours of audio on 13 April and released under 1 hour of edited audio on 17 April. And in Gordon's own words: 'I am perfectly happy with the sound quality of the show.'
When it takes weeks for a conference call to be recorded...
We recorded over 3 hours of audio on 13 April and released under 1 hour of edited audio on 17 April. Yes, other shows have taken longer to do and there have been good reasons for that of which I believe you were made aware at the time by Andy. Regardless of any of that, we will record, edit and publish our show how we want to. If you don't like it, don't listen. Oh, wait, you have stopped listening. Thank fuck for that!
It's old news. By taking so long to go from recording to release TINAP have old news treated as current affairs. Within a day or two of the event finishing it becomes yesterdays [sic] news
Despite the brilliant name "this is not a podcast" it is exactly that, a podcast
No. TINAP is not a podcast.
Another retort I got was about "we aim to have no listeners" which again is false.
Yes, Gordon. It's a joke. Although we genuinely don't care if anyone listens or not. We only hope that if they do, they enjoy it, and if they don't enjoy it, they don't listen.
TINAP is a current affairs audiocast. By choosing a real time social network as their hook, TINAP is by definition a time sensitive show.
No, it isn't.
They say they want feedback
In Gordon's own words (and there are many to choose from):
Feedback page: 'No comments. No Twitter. No pingbacks. No real-time ‘reactions’. Just post on identi.ca with the tag #tinap and we will respond or consult our lawyers as appropriate.
If you don't care what your listeners think, you don't solicit feedback.
They talk about some feedback on the show, as well as mention others in the show notes. They've also expressed gratitude for all the good will they've gotten in various forms including Identi.ca on the show. You don't do those things if you don't care what your listeners think.
Why would anyone want to put a lot of effort into an audiocast about a social network, and stories that develop within the parts of it they see, and not want to take part in any conversations about their output?
The whole anti-social act on Identica seems to suggest they don't want negative feedback, even if it's aimed at helping them. I don't treat those as serious statements, but as retorts in a heated discussion with me
Someone thought it'd be a cool idea to embrace their community by telling people who gave them feedback to randomly fuck off. The Identi.ca anti-social act in full effect. Of course this could be seen as funny, if you're aware of the joke.
Fuck off. As I have explained to you previously on Identi.ca, the telling people who give feedback to 'Fuck off' idea was yours on TINAP 3.
That was the beginning of the end for me with TINAP, the whole anti-social "we don't care" "we do our own thing" act, when their actions don't match that attitude
Next sentence: 'They are nice guys.'
I was not prepared to listen to 57 seconds of guitar feedback
LOL.
The whole anti-social act on Identi.ca wore very thin, the huge delays in releasing making the time sensitive content stale, along with the guitar feedback and snarky replies I decided I'd had enough of TINAP
Plus ça change...
Maybe they had more people like me who told them they didn't appreciate it
No. Not one.
The result was a disappointment
Next two sentences: 'My trust that David wouldn't edit out of context was well judged. There was nothing out of context, he did not try to shaft me in any way in the final edit.'
"We do our own thing"
Gordon: 'I agree, audiocasting is all about that. It allows anyone with the inclination to record a show about whatever they want, their own way. There's no reason why they shouldn't do their own thing.'
“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in a rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”
“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master that’s all.”
Alice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty Dumpty began again. “They’ve a temper, some of them—particularly verbs, they’re the proudest—adjectives you can do anything with, but not verbs—however, I can manage the whole lot! Impenetrability! That’s what I say!”
To have any chance of making sense of this continuation of my personal review of my year in 2010, please refer first to Twenty Ten (Part One): Hard Cheese.
My follow-up appointment with my psychiatrist was due mid-March. Scornfully following his advice to pull myself together and get a life in the month that had passed since our first (and to be last) meeting I had actually begun to feel quite a bit better in myself, but my ever decreasing lung capacity meant that even if I'd wanted to go, I wouldn't physically have been able to. I could barely walk to the corner shop and back.
I had a letter from the psychiatrist's secretary inviting me to the meeting, so I thought I'd email her to let her know I wouldn't be going and why. Much easier than dragging myself out to the post box, I thought. Little did I realise then the wailing and gnashing of teeth that was to follow as I set about shaving this particular yak.
Although her email address wasn't included in the letter I knew from my work that the mental health trust, like most organisations, uses a standard email address format:
firtstname.secondname@nameoflondonborough.nhs.uk
No problem! Oh, wait. The email bounced. I tried again:
That bounced, too. I looked up the names of the team managers on the trust's website and emailed them, along with the 'communication team' asking for the secretary's email address and explaining that I preferred to email her because of my poor (physical) health.
Several auto-replies later told me that three of them had already resigned or otherwise left the trust's employment. Then another two came in saying the same thing. I went higher up the food chain and emailed their managers, one of whom - instead of simply giving me the email address I asked for - copied in two more managers to ask them to contact me.
By this time I had received and answered an unwanted, unwelcome and totally unexpected call from none other than my psychiatrist. I asked why he was calling me. It turned out that the communications team had assumed that my 'poor health' meant that I might be in danger of killing myself (which actually wasn't far off the truth at this point) and so decided - instead of simply giving me the email address I asked for - to place an emergency call to my psychiatrist, who then called me. He did, however, give me his secretary's email address (it turned out that she helpfully uses a shortened version of her first name for her email, unlike on her letters).
When I finished the call I went to email the secretary to confirm what I had told my psychiatrist, that I would not be attending any further meetings with him because, apart from providing me with her email address he had been no bloody help at all. One of the other managers had also now replied to me saying that he knew that my psychiatrist had just spoken with me and gave me the secretary's telephone number, which I had already - instead of simply giving me the email address I asked for.
I decided to make a formal complaint, as that is what gets me off what I do here. Of course, five months later, the chief executive wrote to me to say how sorry she was that I felt that no one wanted to provide me with an email address, but not to uphold my complaint on the grounds that the team manager had emailed me to give me the phone number (that I already had) after being asked by someone else to give me the email address I asked for. Coincidentally, last week, I received information about who has accessed my patient record, when and why. Interestingly, the team manager and the person whose email I wanted both accessed my patient record shortly after I sent the first email and several hours before the team manager actually emailed me (the why is unclear as it's a coded reference).
Various doctors still hadn't been able to diagnose me with enough certainty to prescribe any treatment, so I headed off for a CT scan. The good news was that I didn't have anything really horrible and/or potentially deadly, the bad news was that they still didn't know what was wrong with my lung and that keyhole surgery would be necessary.
Turtles vs. Tortoise
To matters worse, much worse, United contrived to snatch a one goal victory and an aggregate draw (meaning defeat on the away goals rule) from the jaws of an assured three goal victory and safe passage through to the semi-finals of the European Champions League.
Self-styled football hooligan Luke Slater summed up the evening so perfectly that I had to beat him over the head with a baby turtle. So-called journalist and self-styled football expert Daniel Taylor, on the other hand, told Sir Alex that he needed to spend big if he wanted to bring further success to United.
Five days later I was told to attend the Heart Hospital in London in three days time for surgery on my lung, prompting a lovely conversation on Identi.ca covering a whole range of medical complaints and procedures including diarrhoea, halitosis, Tommy Steele, anaesthetics, hypnosis, funerals, cirrhosis and, of course, cheese.
Rather than just sit idly by from the comfort of my western sofa (made in China?) and passively watch world events unfold on my computer screen (made in Taiwan), I decided to do something. I was also rather worried about standing accused of not doing my bit by Jan Wildeboer (seemingly made backwards in Holland like the cheese).
So, with my brain (made in the UK), my authentic fake Harmony Sovereign acoustic guitar (made in Korea), my Samson microphone (made in the USA?) and the lovely free software Audacity I decided last night to re-write Billy Bragg's lyrics to Waiting For The Great Leap Forwards (as Bragg often does himself to reflect current times) and this morning I recorded my version of his classic song, which is a long-time favourite of mine. I've been privately playing and singing my own version of it for several years, so you'd think I'd be better at it by now. But in mitigation, I wasn't allowed to learn to play the violin when I was eight years old because I was told I was tone deaf and when I was fifteen my then headmaster at school refused to allow me to sing The Streets Of London in assembly because I was singing flat. I also have a disability when it comes to remembering song lyrics and I almost always fall to pieces when confronted with a microphone and a the prospect of an audience. My version is also a little slower (and therefore longer) than the original. So you have been warned!
So here's my rendition:
We’re not going on our Winter holidays in the sun, cries crony Blair‘Cos on the Sixth of October highway leading on to Tahrir Square
BJ Clinton’s missus spies a rich friend who's crying
Over Luxor's disappointments so she talks over and she's trying
To sympathise with him
But she thinks that she should warn him
That the USA can't stop this revolution
In the Middle Eastern states the citizens demand
To know why they're still the target of Strategic Air Command
And they shake their fists in anger
And respectfully suggest
That we fuck off and let them sell their own oil instead
The Iraq War now is over, but the death toll keeps getting higher
I'm scared to death of suicide bombers and frightened of friendly fire
And I don't believe we can ever win
An endless War of Terror
While our politicians are arms dealers
From folk protest to popular product*, I wonder what my use is
I text a friend, my homeopath and my antipodean masseuses
While looking undercover
For anyone who might be listening
I'm looking for a News of the World reporter
Music sales are hijacked by pirates that have posted
Even after closing Wikileaks their website is re-hosted
You can be active with the activists or
Get bed bugs with the Tweeters
I'm waiting for the great leap forwards
One leap forwards, two leaps back
Will Facebook get me in the sack?
Waiting for the great leap forwards
Well, here comes the future and you can't change it
If you've got a blacklist I don't wanna be on it
Waiting for the great leap forwards
It's a mighty long way from rock and roll
Singing songs in your bedroom while signing on the dole
Waiting for the great leap forwards
If no one out there understands
Just walk like an Egyptian and fill out the claim forms
Waiting for the great leap forwards
In a perfect world we'd all sing in tune
But this is virtual reality, we just use auto-tune
Waiting for the great leap forwards
So join the struggle while you may
The revolution is just a podcast away
Waiting for the great leap forwards
*Line ripped from the title of my old mate and bass master Aaron's dissertation on popular music, culture and ideology 'From Protest To Product'.
Special thanks must go to Tone Deaf Music without whose brilliant customer service in replacing my broken bridge pins none of this would have been possible. They also do a fabulous range of Spongebob Squarepants guitars, so when the revolution is over and you've finished watching The Story Of Stuff to find out where all your stuff comes from and goes (and at what cost), you can go out an treat yourself.
It’s Just A Ride.
Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed through a slow vibration, we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, life is only a dream and we are the imaginations of ourselves. Here's Tom with the weather.
Bill Hicks
