The Smartphone Zombie Apocalypse Is Nigh

  Back in the heady days of the year 2000, these as-yet unkissed lips belonged to an eager 20 year-old, who fell in love, became a fiancee, spent a further year finishing a university degree in Drama & Creative Writing to get a 2:2 (which I occasionally wear to parties), and went out into the big wide world to work libraries (six months) and a shop (five years). Partway into this retailistic sojourn, the lad got a promotion to management staff, and the engagement sadly evaporated. Never having experienced this sort of emotional trauma before, it was undoubtedly a bad time to be plunged headlong into a retail-based Christmas Nightmare at shop-management level. If you're reeling from the dissolution of a four-year relationship, you don't want to be running a late-shift in a shopping centre, with 30 boxes of stock deliveries, three members of staff, and an army of moronic shoppers asking for refunds and trying to buy non-existent DVDs featuring the Churchill Insurance dog.

  Nevertheless, this was the situation in which I found myself, age 24, surrounded by stock with no hope of getting it all done before the centre shut, queries coming from all sides, Muse on the shop stereo, and Bing Crosby being piped in through the rear corridors (audible from our stock/staff room). Borderline madness. Then I knocked a pile of DVDs over, and my fuse blew.

  I do make it a rule not to lose my temper with people. If I have ever done this to anyone reading, it was a rare incident, and I would have apologised to you at the time. So, in my frustration and anguish (not to mention eagerness to not bellow at the staff in my charge), I did what any rational human being would do. I abandoned any pretence of booking on deliveries, and proceeded to welly the plastic boxes of stock with a broom handle (I even removed the brush-head so that it wouldn't fly off and hurt anyone). Those on the tills, serving customers, would have heard "SPINK! SPINK! SPINK! SPENK! SPERNK! SKENK! SCHENCHK!" until eventually, the broom handle broke. (I imagine the stereo was turned up a little at this point.) After I achieved this feat of strength, I took a permanent marker and wrote "FUCK CHRISTMAS TO FUCK!" on the side of a cupboard.

  The following day, my manager and I had a little chat about my feelings.

  This incident was affectionately referred to as "John's little breakdown", and the cupboard bearing my Festive inscription was henceforth used as a place to blu-tac newspaper articles of note, photos or posters. Pretty much anything that covered up the evidence of my blip, really.

  And it has to be said, in this age of mobile communications via multimedia, photos of the evidence from my outburst would have gone down a storm on Facebook & Twitter. Equally, though, they would almost certainly have scored me the sack. Had I a smartphone back in those days, utterance after utterance (either by customer or by colleague - both hilarious, but the former unintentionally so) would have been turned into social media comedy gold. I took photographs prolifically back in those days, and the sort of stuff that fills up that photo album would have been crammed onto Twitter in the blink of an eye, courtesy of a handheld link to the interwebs.

  I find it amazing the way social media is so accessible these days. My phone is not just a lifeline to my friends and family as it was in those days (my aunt once called my mobile to congratulate me on my aforementioned promotion while I was on the work toilet), it is also a window on everything. I talk often about how media such as Twitter, Facebook, Bandcamp, and more besides, have revolutionised the way I conduct my music affairs. The other thing I mention alongside it is the sheer number of people (and this is primarily via Twitter) that have been brought into my life via series of 140-character vignettes. People that I have, over the last sixteen months, come to care about a great deal.

  Now, sometimes, the question I have to ask myself is "Is this a problem?" I present unto you this small quote from an interview with Conor Oberst, of the band Bright Eyes:
"To walk into a room and it's a bunch of people going like this [pretends to type on a cell phone] it's so depressing. I do it too, so I'm not pointing fingers. But when you project into the future and you think, 'Well, this is eventually going to be archaic. We're not going to need the keyboard anymore. We're just going to be connected.' It'll all just be information-ideas space."


  Now, you know what this is like, and so do I. Like Oberst, I do not point the finger because I do this all the time, when time allows. My weekends are like marathons for my phone's battery, because I am catching up with Twitter, and sharing my life with it. I want to communicate with people, I want to know that Claire is okay! How did Max's meeting go? Is Kai having a better day today? I just heard/saw/thought of something funny that I bet will get a laugh!


The other weekend I went to my parents' house, and we watched the Wimbledon final. I was livetweeting it. It made me laugh, perhaps it got a few chuckles in Internetland as well, but I was in company. Part of me is a little bit sorry that I did it. But it is exciting to be so connected to everything, and the capacity to see something clever or funny and show them to your friends is overwhelming, which is why we do it. You don't want to miss your moment to catch someone's attention (especially if you follow someone who makes work you love) for that magic re-tweet or 'like'. And I play that game. I want to be noticed by people for being a witty and nice chap, because the chap that you see in that smiley avatar is the same chap that's sitting in a chair, in a music room full of fading sunlight, typing this.

  But sometimes I need to know when to put the smartphone down and look at the world with my eyes open. Last night I went to town to use a cash machine, and as I walked back along my street, I visibly and audibly jumped because someone two doors down from my house was standing in his front doorway, smoking a cigarette. I didn't see him from the far end of my road, because I was staring at my phone. That, to me, says "John, they will be okay if you don't look at them for half an hour or so. Put the phone down for a bit."

  But that doesn't mean I don't love you, okay? You get me through the quiet nights when there's no one in the vicinity but me and two bonking neighbours. You make me laugh when I'm having a down moment. When I make a thing, you're there straight away to tell me whether or not you like it, and the fact that you pay any attention at all (right down to reading this) means everything to me. And egotism aside, I am glad that I can be there for people who aren't having a great time themselves. It always makes me happy to know that I've cheered someone up or made them feel better.

  I'd say that overall, by and large, if you're having a hard time, it's better to reach for a smartphone than a metal broom handle.

Lots of love, speak soon.
John xxx

P.S: I know I called this "The Smartphone Zombie Apocalypse Is Nigh" - I don't even think it is, but if scaremongering works for the Daily Mail, what the hell!

I WANT TO PLAY SONGS FOR YOU

My bathroom always feels rather small.  This morning I closed the door and it seemed much larger, and I realised that I rarely did that and as such, the door acted as a kind of partition.


  That may seem an odd thing to start a blog entry with, but then it's been that long since I have written one of the blessed things that I should just go with the first thing that came into my head, so here we are.  It's mid-evening Saturday, the sun has shown its face once or twice, and there is a surreal piece of radio happening on Radio 4 Extra, in a collection of documentaries and pieces created by the BBC Radiophonic Workshop.  Currently, it's a lengthy piece called 'The Dream', which attempts to recreate the feeling of dreaming.  The workshop sampled descriptions by different people talking about their dreams, and edited different abstract parts of their descriptions together, with synthesised sounds reflecting the moods and feel of their recollections.  It is a piece that can render one quite soporific in a matter of seconds, and it currently feels as if I am typing with weights tied to my wrists and face.  I am going to make a cup of tea before carrying on.


Do please talk amongst yourselves.


  I'm back.  The sun has reappeared for the third time this afternoon, and now an episode of The Goon Show is getting an airing to demonstrate the Radiophonic Workshop's oeuvre.  Of course, having just gotten stuck on the next sentence, the Goons have finished, and an audio representation of Einstein's Theory of Relativity has just started, which frankly so unlistenable, I have turned the radio off altogether.


That's better.


  Of course, I didn't expect this to be a blog entry about writing a blog entry.  I had been getting rather good at it in May, having had what I can only refer to as a blog-splurge (for the only reason that I can't think of a better, not to mention less messy, term).  I have had some rather nice gigs since May, playing once again in Leeds, and also The Old Brown Jug.  August promises to be a fun month, with a gig in my hometown for a local event, Oatcake Day, which Stoke DJ Terry Bossons has been doing since 2010.  I am not, sadly, taking part in the actual Oatcake Day shenanigans, but another related event the day after.  Two days later I am proud to say I'll be playing at The Sugarmill for local music group Stoke Sounds.  Stoke Sounds run a blog and host at least one radio show in the area, promoting and reviewing the bands and musicians from around these parts.  I have done a session on their 6 Towns radio show recently, and am very glad to get the chance to not only play at The Sugarmill, but to represent Stoke's musical side, and support Stoke Sounds themselves.  It goes without saying that if you can come to this event (Saturday, August 11th, 4pm onwards), you really, really must.


  That brings me on to something I would actually like to blog about.  Gigs.  To be more specific, attendance of gigs.  This could get quite involved, so I promise I will put a video at the end of this post, that you will enjoy.  Right - I am going to quote from my friend Andrew Tranter, who writes songs and sings in acoustic duo Headsticks.  I had the pleasure of playing at one of his Song club evenings last week.  The following day, he wrote on Facebook:


  "After around 13 years of gigging, probably nearing 1000 gigs with Jugopunch, The Clay Faces and now Headsticks, I can honestly say that last nights Song Club at The The Old Brown Jug was one of, if not THE most enjoyable event I have been a part of! I don't know what it was about the night....but I'm still buzzing! Elly Kingdon was as ever a delight, John MacLeod his usual loveable self, Giro Junkie Rich Bloor was, I don't know how to explain, but he was so true to his music and delivered it with such passion... and I can't find words for how good Shaun and the Special Sauce were...and as for Headsticks, well we were alright for a couple of miserable duffers.....


 Only disappointment was a very average turn out for the show and this is a worry....how to get people off their backsides and down to a venue these days! Soon venues will start to question the viability of these events (if they are not already doing so), and the fact is that they don't add up and business is business....so gigs get pulled and maybe venues get shut and what then for local music,for local bands? It is really important that the local music scene receives your support....many acts deserve to be playing on a bigger stage to bigger audiences and are actually at least as good as the acts being played mainstream, many are better but just need exposure.....that's where you lot come in!!!! Please support the local venues/bands/events before it is too late!!!! If you have never been to see a local gig give it a try...you may just enjoy it!"


  There's not a great deal extra I can add to that.  I will be the first to admit that I am not out every night seeing bands, but when I can - I do.  Often, I am writing or working on new material, and because I am holding down a full-time job at the same time as making music work, sometimes I just need to stop and make sure that I'm not burning the candle at both ends - I have been there, and as a consequence didn't play for two years.

  But the point is that folk like myself need your support.  The concert that Andy's talking about in that post was a wonderful evening.  It even started early enough for people to see the whole thing, but as the night crept on, by the time the headlining act were playing, the audience were somewhat diminished,  and one or two pockets of the people there were noisy enough for the whole bar.

  So - my plea to you is threefold.

1:  If your friend is a support act and you come to watch, don't just disappear after their set - stay for the whole night.  You could suddenly discover your new favourite band in the space of an evening.  And just think - the headlining band have been seeing how many people are in the crowd and actively looking forward to playing to you.  Yes, YOU!

2:  If you're a support act, or playing in a lineup of several acts in a showcase, don't just turn up for your set and sod off after it unless you have a darned good reason!  The only excuse for this, in my opinion, is transport.  I recently played in Stafford for an evening of music in celebration of the Olympic torch having passed through town.  Not only did I get caught in standstill traffic on the way there (forcing me to miss my first set), but I had a stupidly early last bus out of town, and so couldn't stay for the whole night.  You can bet your life I did a circuit of the bar and apologised to everyone for that, though.

3:  If you're going to a music event, try and listen.  Trust me, I know what pubs are generally for.  They are for meeting up with your friends (that perhaps you don't see as often as you'd like to), and catching up, being funny, making each other laugh, maybe even talking through things that are troubling you.  And, at an outside guess, getting a bit pissed and falling off your chair.  I know this.  Sometimes, though, I find it hard to reconcile when a pub is putting a gig on.  At my very core, on those nights, I am a music appreciator.  I can concentrate on little else when someone is playing, because I want to see them play.  Similarly, when I am performing, there's a level of ambient noise over which I can easily play, but there's also a level of ambient noise which grates on my nerves.

  If you're reading this, I WANT TO PLAY SONGS FOR YOU.  So does pretty much every musician I know (and so do the ones I don't know, if I really think about it).  Be a good egg and come to some gigs.  You will be welcomed with cuddles, songs, and, one day, some high quality merchandise.

  In the meantime, as promised, here is a nice song from a musician I have just started listening to.  I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you for reading,
Love,
John xx