In which I display yet another piece of recently-acquired musical kit that I can’t realistically afford and yet which I could not let pass me by. Because what aspiring rock guitarist – even one who knows he isn’t very good and never will be – hasn’t always wanted a valve-powered amp stack?

And yes, it is very loud. Which means that now the whole street can hear how much I suck, as opposed to just the houses to either side.

Who knows – maybe next week we’ll have a picture of something from (gasp!) outside my flat.*

Writing about music

It’s been a hectic week in music, because the pre-festival season sees the industry knocking out lots of new material. Next week promises to be even busier – I have ten albums to review for 2nd June, which means my usual one-per-weekday regime would be insufficient even were I completely clear of albums released on 25th May (which I’m not, yet).

Still, in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter too much if I review stuff in its week of release rather than before. Better that than punishing my eyes and ears by trying to do two or three reviews a day to the detriment of other stuff, AMIRITE?

Album of the week

Hail Destroyer by Cancer Bats, no contest.

Good enough, in fact, to somewhat cool my disappointment that I had my guestlist for the gig revoked at the eleventh hour last weekend (literally about an hour after I posted FPB).

Writing about books

No solid writing, but I’m reading and taking notes on David Levy’s Love and Sex With Robots for a Vector review. I think I’m safe in saying that anyone widely read in sf isn’t going to find his core idea as shocking as the average person might. However, it’s still an interesting read (though I think I can see exactly where he’s going, and something about his writing style really bugs me beyond his heavy reliance on stats and psychology studies, both of which can be made to sing like canaries).

Futurismic

Fellow Fictioneer Justin Pickard has started blogging over at Futurismic this week (and how!), and the call for volunteers still stands until Sunday – so if you or someone you know fancies a crack at contributing to one of the genre scene’s most vibrant and cutting-edge webzines, jump to it!

Also finalised my first story contract and payment as Ed-in-Chief, which feels both weird and cool at once. Now, if I can just put some of Jeremy’s ideas into action …

Freelance

So, masses of work for PS Publishing. I think I’m going to be able to do it quicker in future once I know the routines, but the learning curve is significant – though it’s not so much steep as it is long. Still, my legs could do with the exercise, to overextend the analogy.

And hey, I get to invoice Pete for it at the end of the month – and that’s a damn good feeling, let me tell you.

Books and magazines seen

Speaking of PS Publishing as we were, my only incomings this week have been a lovely box of titles from that esteemed establishment. And not wishing to lay it on too thick (lest I stand accused of grandstanding), anyone who has bought a PS title will back me up in saying that, as examples of books-as-desire-objects, they are very lovely indeed**.

Coda – the four-day weekend

Those of you who have been following closely may remember a false alert a little while ago when I thought I was getting a four-day weekend (thanks to the Dockyard being the nominal property of some old bird called Liz who lives up in London).

It turns out that’s this weekend – so yours truly isn’t back at the day-job until midday next Wednesday. A survey of those currently present seems to suggest that this is widely considered to be a Good Thing***.

All the more so when you consider I’ve spent most of the week with my nose to the grindstone, as it were. And that’s not a complaint - it’s great to have productive (and lucrative) things to do. But it’ll be nice to have a little breathing room in which to play catch-up (and sit-down).

And so - as is often the way - a busy week makes for a skinny FPB Coda. What can I say here?

Oh, yes – the new Red Bull cola is frighteningly addictive, allegedly contains genuine coca leaf (though only as a flavouring) and makes you feel like Henry Case after he scores the engineered amphetamine analogue on Straylight. It also appears to wreck my sleep, even when consumed around lunchtime; for this reason I may have to forbid myself from drinking it any more****.

And on the tail of that earth-shattering revelation, I guess it’s time to bring this to a close … after all, it’s time to fulfil that most sacred of rituals and genuflect with cutlery toward the Most Venerable And Esteemed Friday Curry For Great Justice And Virtuosity. And so, I bid you farewell for now.

Have a great weekend, folks – however long it may turn out to be.

[ * That sound I just heard was you all collectively holding your breath, right? No, didn’t think so. ]

[ ** Which, of course, will mean nothing to you freaks who don't obsess about book-as-artefact. Selah; your blessing is also your curse. ]

[ *** Though given the acquisition of the amplifier, my neighbours may not be in complete concordance on this matter. ]

[**** This public service announcement has been brought to you by the British Dentistry Association – because, contrary to popular and justifiable belief, we are not sadists, and we don’t enjoy fixing molars that have been ground down to bloody stumps any more than you enjoy bringing them to us. ]

So, last week a rather sweet deal came up on my local music forum. Now, I wasn’t really in need of a new guitar, but as any other musician (even one as half-arsed as myself) will tell you, need isn’t a factor that enters into the equation where new instruments are concerned.

Bargain prices* and extreme sexiness are, however … so I am now the rather happy owner of this:

For those who like details, she’s a Fender John 5 Triple Tele Deluxe. The chrome is a bitch to keep clean (especially with my “rest the weight on your pinkie” right-hand technique), but she plays beautifully and kicks out a great signal. I have yet to name her.

Writing about music

Stop press: the oft-delayed Ginger Wildheart interview finally went through! Literally just half an hour ago, in fact.

It was a bit of a hoopla job - transatlantic mobile-to-mobile phone calls are no picnic, and the man himself was in the waiting room of a tattoo parlour (where else?) but I actually have ten minutes of audible recorded conversation! What a marathon - but well worth it, though.

Other than that, nothing untoward to report - off to Cancer Bats tomorrow with SCG and one of my bandmates from Aeroplane Attack, though.

Album of the week

Another strong week, so I’m going to call it a tie for the top spot and you can choose the one that sounds more up your street, so to speak.

You can choose between Heavy Zooo, a surreal adventure with German down-tuned stoner-doom duo Beehoover, or the simple honest small-town punk rock of Cardiff’s Bedford Falls, whose début Savings And Loan is best described as sounding like Sugar performing Alkaline Trio songs. Or maybe the other way around.

You can also choose both, if you like. I won’t mind.

Writing about books

I FINISHED THE DAMNED SEVERIAN OF THE GUILD PIECE!

The really astonishing thing is that once it was finished and sent off, this huge psychological weight was lifted off of my shoulders - I hadn’t realised how much of an albatross of frustration it had become for me.

It was hard work, though; the sort of book I could write a dissertation on and still not say everything I wanted to.**

The Implied Spaces review is chalked in for Sunday, as is a chunk of reading time. I’ve been very sloppy on my reading recently; the easy excuse is to say that I’ve not had much free time, but I’d imagine the lack of reading has something to do with my lack of inspiration when I sit down to write. Hmmm.

Whether that’s the case or not, I need to read more. I have review deadlines, if nothing else!

Freelance

Well, there’s plenty to keep me busy, that’s for certain. A regular flow of material through the PS Publishing Newsroom means that I should have little difficulty maintaining a regular schedule over there … which can be bolstered in future with my various cunning plans! Muah-hah-hah!

There’s web development work within clear sight, and a few other things looming on the horizon which may prove to be mirages but might well be solid ground. One thing’s for certain - I need to get myself a hosting reseller account sorted sooner rather than later.

And as if I didn’t have enough to do already, I’m trying to think of a good pitch for the Clarkesworld non-fiction section - though this is more as a speculative exercise on my part rather than something I have decided I should actually commit to doing.

Futurismic

Business pretty much as usual over on Futurismic; I’m just getting our fiction buying contract looked over before sending it off to the first author we’re buying from with me at the helm.

Definitely going to take on more staff over there, though, as I’m struggling in the absence of two of my regular crew. So, let me reiterate the call:

If you think you’d be interested in blogging at Futurismic on a regular basis, please drop me a note using the Futurismic Contact page and let me know why you’d be good for the site.

Cheers!

Books and magazines seen

Big old batch of Orbit stuff today, including some fantasy stuff for my mother and yet another vampire-shagger from the queen of the vampire-shaggers (who must at least be admired for her prodigious output rate, if nothing else).

The only one that caught my sf-nal eye was Sean Williams‘ Astropolis 1: Saturn Returns:

The other arrival this week was the OMG-controversial ‘mundane’ issue of Interzone:

I’m curious to see if it will generate enough blogospheric hot air to raise the entire genre scene, Montgolfier-fashion, into the sky for a short period of time.

I just don’t understand why people get so upset about it. I mean, I understand the differences of opinion that lead to the upset, but all the wailing and gnashing of teeth … come on people, save it for Michael Crichton, FFS.

Coda

Well, what happened to summer? Three glorious days of sun, and now it’s all murky and overcast. I’m consoling myself with the thought that perhaps it’s a sign, and that Portsmouth will lose tomorrow, thus sparing me twelve months of PEOPLE BEING UNABLE TO SHUT THE HELL UP ABOUT FOOTBALL***.

Still, feeling a bit more on top of things this week, with the exception of my fiction writing. Progress, it seems, is being made on most fronts, and there’s not much more one can ask for, really****.

But as for now I have things to be getting on with so that I can be out of town before the crowds tomorrow … which means that I’d best high-tail it down the road and fetch the Friday Curry For Valour And Great Justice right away!

Have yourselves a good weekend, ladies and gents. Hasta luego.

[ * Bought new earlier this year for around £600, cost me a little over £300. Zing! ]

[ ** That's not me volunteering to do so, however. I have many thoughts about The Book Of The New Sun, but I don't ever want to wade into them again on anyone else's time-scale but my own. ]

[ *** To be fair, they’ll carry on about the stupid game anyway, but the tedious way in which absolutely everything will be intimately related to the outcome of one particular ninety-minute interaction between twenty-two overpaid chumps and a pig’s bladder should they win will be almost unbearable. ]

[ **** Well, yes, of course there is; I mean things you can ask for and that you have some vague chance of actually receiving. ]

Richie Edwards of Stone Gods is a charismatic front-man, and makes for a great subject for photography - he’s just got one of those expressive faces, I guess, and a natural propensity to pose.

However, I thought I’d put this particular photo up as an example of the “happy accident” shot.

[Sharp focus on headstock] + [blurred musician in background] = [rather striking image IMHO]:

It was a good show they put on (though I wouldn’t have given you tuppence for the support band Serpico, I’m afraid).

My interview with the band went really well, too - the evidence is up at The Dreaded Press, in case you hadn’t seen it already. Discover the rock and roll secrets of the Waitrose deli counter!

Writing about music

There has been an awful lot of music writing this last week, as I’m in the transitional period between writing for other people and writing for TDP only.

What that means in real terms is that I’m at double workload at the moment, and will be for the next few weeks. The upswing being that I’m learning what sort of capacity for work I have when pressed by circumstance - though it’s not an output rate I’d want to duplicate regularly without getting paid for it.

Another gig last night - reviewing My Ruin and Die So Fluid at Southampton Joiners.

I also did an interview with Tairrie B of My Ruin (which is apparently a rare privilege, because she’s quite bitter toward music journalism, and with good reason), and I think it went really well. She’s got a lot to say, and calls it how she sees it. Strong woman; respect is due.

Both bands put on a good show also; watch out for reviews and interviews in the next handful of days. Another good reason to be subscribed to The Dreaded Press RSS feed, no?

Writing about books

Virtually nothing on the literary front; see above. My review of Swiftly is overdue as of today - I’d better get that finished by Sunday, I’m thinking.

I did manage to get the reviews section for Interzone #215 squared up and sent off, though.

Writing about other stuff

Not much writing about other stuff this week either - some scraps of poetry have been committed (as should their creator be, some might say), but I’ve not even had time to do a piece of Friday Flash Fiction this week, to my great shame.

It’s been ages since I missed a week, and I feel strangely guilty - it’s odd how quickly habits become entrenched. Still, it seems I am not alone in my shame this time.

Other tasks of a not-actually-writing nature have been simmering all week, though. Much planning and brainstorming (and wondering what the hell I’m letting myself in for) has taken place.

We’re very close to a point where I can announce this formally, but not quite there just yet. Ooooh, the suspense …

Books and magazines seen

No magazines this week, though a renewal slip turned up from F&SF, so I must have mis-remembered by last subscription date. The mystery of the seemingly infinite subscription is now solved!

My copy of Gene Wolfe’s Severian Of The Guild omnibus arrived early in the week from the folk at SF Site.

According to the post-mark it took exactly two months to make the journey by surface mail from Canada - I mention this not as a complaint, just a sort of “wow” observation*.

Coda

Anyway, enough of my whimsy. Or less of it, at least; a bit of whimsy is an acceptable safety valve in my all-out frantic life at the moment, I feel.

Indeed, it’s a definite manifestation of whimsy that saw me volunteering to play third guitar in a local shoegazer/space-rock band in times to come. I’m meeting up with my prospective band-mates on Sunday to discuss our mutual musical direction (or, as seems more likely, to spend a few hours enthusing over the various merits of obscure seventies stomp-boxes and wondering which of us was most likely to have won the hand of Belinda Butcher in marriage had we been in a position to ask for it*). More news on this when I have it.

But hey, look at the date - February 1st! Which means I’ve successfully not smoked for a whole month, which I’m pretty bloody proud of.

In addition to the health benefits (which I have yet to feel in any tangible manner, but I believe must exist), it’s a real psychological boost for my self-confidence. If I can change one aspect of my daily life with a bit of will-power, what else can I achieve with more of the same?

Hence February is going to involve experiments with frugality, and maybe even regular exercise. I know, it’s a scary thought. Probably more so for me than you, though**.

This weekend, with the exception of Sunday’s musical meeting, promises to be a monstrous writing binge for a second week in a row - I’m still trying to get ahead of myself and set up a routine with some flex built in.

However, having woken up this morning with sinuses aflame and limbs aching with the tell-tale signs of my first cold of the year, it seems unlikely that I’ll have much else to do, beyond the regular domestic tasks that the average bachelor hermit must perform for himself. Lucky, wot?

So I’ll be forgoing the usual pub jaunt this evening - which will be a good way to kick off the frugal regime of not drinking alcohol for a month, if nothing else.

But some traditions are too precious to be tossed away willy-nilly … and after all, The Friday Curry has proved efficacious in the management of cold and flu symptoms before.

Have a great weekend, people - whatever you end up doing. Hasta luego!

[* Did you ever do that creative writing exercise at school, the "Day In The Life Of A Ten-pence Piece" story? I think about that book slowly crossing the Atlantic, and I want to write something similar. Might have made a good FFF piece, but alas, the time was not available.]

[** A pointless debate, really, as it's obviously me.]

[*** That said, those of you who've seen me wearing shorts might be justified in flinching at the flashback.]

… but I see via the BBC website that some other folk have been having a high old time in it:

That’s just priceless.

(But the owner of those instruments is going to discover that the necks won’t agree with the temperature one little bit.)

It’s not just computers that people hack, mod and generally screw around with - musical instruments are fair game, too. Continue reading “Guitar corner: make your own pickups from junk”

A post specially for all guitar playing readers of VCTB. Tuning up…it’s a drag, isn’t it? Continue reading “Guitar corner”

Guns, bad. Guitars, good. Continue reading “Make noise, not war”

Bass players…they have a tough time in the music world. Not as tough as drummers, granted, but being the bass guy is nowhere near as ‘rock-n-roll’ as the guitarist. Continue reading “Bored of your bass?”