Zeitgeist, Schmeitgeist

2011-07-10T18:52:00.001+01:00

Like many of my peers, I have embraced the digital age. I am a Digital Renaissance Man. I have a blog (that you’re reading, so you knew that already) a website or three, a Facebook page, I Twitter (not sure at whom), I’m LinkedIn (not sure to what). But the main thing I have is an iTunes account. It’s like living in the Tower Records shop in Piccadilly in 1985 – a smorgasbord of music. I wander around picking up things that attract me like a musical magpie in a cutlery factory. I know it’s wrong – “editorial” decisions are made, and there’s quite a lot of music that I like that I can’t get on iTunes for one reason or another (but that was true of Tower Records too, of course), and the amount of money that finally gets to the artist is woeful (also true of Tower Records, but not entirely their fault). How-some-ever, let’s put aside these very real concerns for a moment, and discuss a phenomenon that I’m beginning to find very worrying.

Jenny and I have been together for a very long time, and over the course of the almost 32 years, our musical tastes have occasionally bumped against each other, mostly by complete random chance. When we met I was 18 and Jenny was 17, and I pretty much only listened to what we called New Wave, while she listened to Disco. Over the years, thanks to the CD revolution and the re-release of everyone’s back catalogue in every other format and finally downloading, I’ve bought or found and consumed everything from The Action to Zabriskie Point. And while my taste has expanded exponentially and changed and evolved, Jenny has remained loyal to the spirit of ’76 disco-wise. I have widened my horizons and embraced a whole world of music, and it’s very, very important to me - I call myself a composer and musician when I call myself anything. Jenny has flat-lined since Ring My Bell was number one.

So, we come, finally, to the point of all this – I get drawn through iTunes, tugged along by the tide of People Who Bought That Also Bought This functions, deeper and deeper into the obscure. I remember liking songs and artists and I take a punt with my 79p and down it comes. And I’m almost always at least slightly disappointed, as my recollection is better than the actual sound. X-Ray Spex, the Delta 5, the Fall, One The Juggler, the Toy Dolls. One of the first 7” singles I ever bought was called “Sultana” by a band called Titanic. It wasn’t on iTunes, but I found an mp3 of it. I knew it wasn’t going to be Hey Jude, but, really, it was rubbish.

On the other hand, Jenny gets me to downloading (she can’t use Sky+ either, bless) and gets all excited about some disco anthem that she then delights in and tells me is exactly as she remembers it. I scowl and blither on about Zeitgeist and what I did in the Punk Wars, or babble things like “Time it was, and what a time it was, it was...” and now I’m starting to wonder if, actually, most of what I like has transient appeal, and is therefore pop music in a very real sense, and all that Club Classic stuff (that Jenny still only listens to) has stood the test of time. Or perhaps I’m just getting old…….

Throw me a bone in Ab minor

2011-07-07T19:27:00.000+01:00

INT. CLINIC TREATMENT ROOM - DAY

We’re looking down onto a clean, white, well-equipped, treatment room from above. The CHIROPODIST, an attractive lady in her mid to late twenties sits on her stool next to a comfortable looking chair. She’s wearing a white coat.

KIM enters the room, and the CHIROPODIST smiles and offers him the chair.

CHIROPODIST How can I help today?

KIM Well, here’s the thing. I’ve selected you from a long list of Chiropodists out there, you know. It was quite tough for a little while, and I haven’t actually got back to some of the people who were interested in my feet.

Cut to the CHIROPODIST’S upper half

CHIROPODIST(slightly bemused) Thank you.

The Camera pulls back until both are in shot:

KIM And, you know, I can see that you’ve spent a good deal of time and effort on training and actually being a Chiropodist. That’s really good - I love your work

INSERT: Several framed certificates on the wall.

KIM (continuing) and I know you’ve done really good things in the past on people’s feet. Although my feet are special, kind of like Hitchcock’s feet but also a bit like feet on Goddard, Almodovar, Speilberg.

CHIROPODIST Can I see your feet?

KIM You’ll need to sign an NDA. I can show you a paragraph describing my feet, or a detailed description that I’ll change later. I can show you some clippings from other people’s feet I’ve been involved in? Anyway, I also can see that you’ve spent a lot of money on all this equipment that you need.

CHIROPODIST (nodding, somewhat wryly) I have, yes.

KIM Later on, if I decide you’ll be involved with my feet, would it be possible for you to get some extra people in? Do you have friends who can work on feet, say do pedicures, massages and that kind of thing?

CHIROPODIST Well, yes, but...

KIM So, I’ve decided that I’ll get you to work on my feet, but I won’t be able to pay you or your friends. (Well, I have to give you something of course otherwise the Contract I use would be invalid, but it’ll be insulting) Instead, I’ll let you use a picture of my feet to add to your showreel. I’ll be sending my feet to festivals, which’ll be really good for your career. If I sell my feet at a profit (after charging absolutely everything I can think of, and some things I can’t think of but my lawyers can) I’ll pay you then. Something. Or not.

CHIROPODIST (becoming cagey) I’m not sure.....

KIM There are lot’s of other Chiropodists out there, you know. And I want it all done now, and I want you to do nothing but my feet and I want you to feel the same way about my feet as I do, straight off.

CHIROPODIST OK

KIM Now, here’s what I want. Can you do my feet as if you were Philip Glass?

Unpleasantville

Zeitgeist, Schmeitgeist

Throw me a bone in Ab minor