We hear it all the time - the winner of Pop X Idol Factor in their first interview, after being asked what advice they would give any aspiring performers: "... if you stick with it you'll make it, you can be whatever you want to be, you can go all the way if you believe in yourself...etc". What utter tripe.
If you believe in any of this, I'm sorry to dash your hopes, but it's actually some of the most irresponsible advice you'll ever hear, and it just leaves poor old Simon Cowell to pick up the pieces by telling these people how bad they really are.
Ever noticed how it's never the failures who say 'follow your dream'? Well of course not. They would say "Don't waste 10 years of your life on a futile quest for fame when you haven't got a hope in hell due to the fact that you have no talent at all."
I was chatting to Trev from the band the other day - not a real chat of course, we only communicate through highly amusing and abusive emails - about how it all turned out ok for us in the end. We, like thousands of other bands, honestly believed we had what it took to 'make it'. Maybe we did, but there's more to it than that - stuff like who you know, right place right time and all the other cliches.
We spent a good few years of our early twenties working part time jobs to give us time for the band. Rehearsals and a couple of gigs every week, and saving money to get CDs recorded and pressed. Our highlight was being played on Steve Wright's breakfast show on Radio 1 - but of course nothing happened from there, and we drifted into full time jobs and, fortunately, the real world.
I'm just glad we never took that staple advice "Follow your dream - if you believe in yourself, then you'll definitely make it". It's no coincidence that this advice is doled out by those who have actually made it, and not by the thousands of forty-something has-beens who have wasted a good part of their life still trying to 'make it'. Sad as it sounds, I'm glad we got jobs/careers, as we can still enjoy the whole music thing, but enjoy a whole other life too.
I still believe we are a great band, but it's too much of a gamble now - we all make a reasonable living, and even if you 'make it', it's no guarantee of fame or fortune. I was listening to Chesney Hawkes on the radio the other day. That guy was such a legend with just one song - wonder what he's doing now. The bass player from the Boomtown Rats is a plumber, I know that much.
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Thursday, 2 August 2007
The Race
Not just the title of one of the greatest one hit wonders of all time by Yello, but also a game played by thousands of commuters daily. A game of which none of us ever speak.
Now I'm not saying that, as a commuter, you've automatically been in The Race, but the chances are you've witnessed it without realising.
The rules are simple. The first rule of The Race is that no-one must ever acknowledge that they are in The Race. It's all done with a quick nudge here and there, and absolutely no eye contact.
Preparation starts on the platform - as the train pulls in, you know which carriage and which door on that carriage to get on the train to make sure you're in the optimum position at the other end of your journey. Seasoned pros have an exact spot on the platform on which they stand.
When the train pulls in at the other end is when the fun starts. Without running, and without letting on that you are in The Race, you must be the first one up the stairs/first one up the escalator/first one through the ticket barrier - you set your own rules.
Most are simply spectators, but for thousands of us, that small victory as you steam through the barriers, muttering "eat my dust bitch" under your breath is a great way to start/finish to your day.
Next time you get off a train - just watch. It's going all around us.
by Norbert Panhandle - Gold medalist in the 18.34 Baker Street to Croxley Challenge Cup.
Now I'm not saying that, as a commuter, you've automatically been in The Race, but the chances are you've witnessed it without realising.
The rules are simple. The first rule of The Race is that no-one must ever acknowledge that they are in The Race. It's all done with a quick nudge here and there, and absolutely no eye contact.
Preparation starts on the platform - as the train pulls in, you know which carriage and which door on that carriage to get on the train to make sure you're in the optimum position at the other end of your journey. Seasoned pros have an exact spot on the platform on which they stand.
When the train pulls in at the other end is when the fun starts. Without running, and without letting on that you are in The Race, you must be the first one up the stairs/first one up the escalator/first one through the ticket barrier - you set your own rules.
Most are simply spectators, but for thousands of us, that small victory as you steam through the barriers, muttering "eat my dust bitch" under your breath is a great way to start/finish to your day.
Next time you get off a train - just watch. It's going all around us.
by Norbert Panhandle - Gold medalist in the 18.34 Baker Street to Croxley Challenge Cup.
More Caffeine
I've had a pop at tea drinkers, but don't think you coffee addicts get off scot free.
Working in London, you get used to a lot of things which our more suburban/country cousins would think are just plain stupid. One in particular is the whole 'carry my coffee to work' thing.
It can start before they even get on the train - they stand on the platform with their plastic-lidded cardboard cup of tall-skinny-caramel-decaff-mocha-choca-latte, cradling it like a precious jewel. The same cup can last them the whole commute - train, tube and walk to the office - all the while holding it up like an Olympic torch, trying to avoid spills and getting in everyone's way, but all the time making sure to take a sip every 5 mins or so. Finally they arrive breathless in the office plonking it down on their desk. Surely by this time it is stone cold?
What I want to know is whether this is caffeine addiction or the the first signs of OCD? I can't think of any logical reason why you wouldn't just wait till you get into the office and have your cuppa there? Not only do you save yourself £3.50, but you then have two hands free to hold on to the handrail on the tube and read your Harry Potter book.
Working in London, you get used to a lot of things which our more suburban/country cousins would think are just plain stupid. One in particular is the whole 'carry my coffee to work' thing.
It can start before they even get on the train - they stand on the platform with their plastic-lidded cardboard cup of tall-skinny-caramel-decaff-mocha-choca-latte, cradling it like a precious jewel. The same cup can last them the whole commute - train, tube and walk to the office - all the while holding it up like an Olympic torch, trying to avoid spills and getting in everyone's way, but all the time making sure to take a sip every 5 mins or so. Finally they arrive breathless in the office plonking it down on their desk. Surely by this time it is stone cold?
What I want to know is whether this is caffeine addiction or the the first signs of OCD? I can't think of any logical reason why you wouldn't just wait till you get into the office and have your cuppa there? Not only do you save yourself £3.50, but you then have two hands free to hold on to the handrail on the tube and read your Harry Potter book.
Blowin in the wind
Leaf blowers -what is the point? Discuss.
I only ever see people using leaf blowers to blow leaves somewhere else - either to a place 10 yards in front of them, or just off to the side of the 'bit' they're doing. Surely this is just moving leaves around, and a bloody noisy way of doing it to boot? The next time the wind picks up - even just a whisper - and all the leaves you have moved come straight back.
Either sweep them up or blow them into a pile, and then sweep them up. I think we're just inventing machines for the sake of it.
I only ever see people using leaf blowers to blow leaves somewhere else - either to a place 10 yards in front of them, or just off to the side of the 'bit' they're doing. Surely this is just moving leaves around, and a bloody noisy way of doing it to boot? The next time the wind picks up - even just a whisper - and all the leaves you have moved come straight back.
Either sweep them up or blow them into a pile, and then sweep them up. I think we're just inventing machines for the sake of it.
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