Ummmm. 8 year olds shouldn't be able to harmonise like this.
Woah.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Hyperlinks: The Future of Journalism?
A mate and I were recently discussing the enormous increase in the use of hyperlinks in online media (I know - we're awesome, right?!). It seems that hyperlinks are no longer reserved for single words. These days, they are used across whole sentences. Is it just me, or is the overuse of hyperlinks getting a little ridiculous?
With cuts being made to editorial jobs in newspapers all over the world, it seems that the trend in online media is for news articles to contain a single topic sentence describing the general situation, followed by a bunch of links to the opinions of other people on that topic. Check out this effort from The Economist:
Perhaps in the future the news will just end up being a single sentence hyperlinked to google - ie 'There is a war in Syria' - followed by a final disclaimer saying: ‘We can no longer afford to pay our journalists. The news is out there somewhere. Please figure it out yourself’.
With cuts being made to editorial jobs in newspapers all over the world, it seems that the trend in online media is for news articles to contain a single topic sentence describing the general situation, followed by a bunch of links to the opinions of other people on that topic. Check out this effort from The Economist:
"Our health-care correspondent sums up the questions before the court and the arguments being made, and says the case could transform the power of the federal government. M.S. explains why the slippery-slope arguments against Obamacare don't make much sense. W.W. says forced business between taxpayers and private companies is forced business whether or not government touches the money. Donald Berwick, the former administrator of Centers of Medicare and Medicaid Services, explains what might happen if some or all of Obamacare is repealed. Our correspondent adds to those thoughts. And Lexington says that even if the Supreme Court strikes down Obamacare, there could be a silver lining for the president."
Perhaps in the future the news will just end up being a single sentence hyperlinked to google - ie 'There is a war in Syria' - followed by a final disclaimer saying: ‘We can no longer afford to pay our journalists. The news is out there somewhere. Please figure it out yourself’.
Friday, July 06, 2012
Thursday, July 05, 2012
Sir Ken Robinson : Do schools kill creativity?
Is this the most watched TED talk because of the message, or because of the way it's delivered? Or is it both?
The 'busy' trap
Fantastic article on NY Times Opinionator blog website by Tim Krieder : The 'busy' trap.
My favourite lines:
'The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration.'
'My own resolute idleness has mostly been a luxury rather than a virtue, but I did make a conscious decision, a long time ago, to choose time over money, since I’ve always understood that the best investment of my limited time on earth was to spend it with people I love.'
My favourite lines:
'What she had mistakenly assumed was her personality —
driven, cranky, anxious and sad — turned out to be a deformative effect of her
environment.'
'The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration.'
'My own resolute idleness has mostly been a luxury rather than a virtue, but I did make a conscious decision, a long time ago, to choose time over money, since I’ve always understood that the best investment of my limited time on earth was to spend it with people I love.'
Love it.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
What Are We Gonna Do - Glen Hansard
Glen Hansard has recorded a new album, Rhythm and Repose.
After an initial listen, this song instantly stood out for me. Glen's voice is, as always, raw and desperate. Marketa Irglova's thick vocal harmonies make for an aching conversation between these ex-lovers.
What are we gonna do / if we lose that fire, he asks.
Her reply:
I don't want to change you / But you're a long, long way from the path you came
I'm trying to show you something / And a good, good heart will always find a way
I love the production on this track. The single kick drum under "I don't want to change you" took my breath away. It cuts right through, giving a sense of finality to that simple admission and the depth of its implications.
After an initial listen, this song instantly stood out for me. Glen's voice is, as always, raw and desperate. Marketa Irglova's thick vocal harmonies make for an aching conversation between these ex-lovers.
What are we gonna do / if we lose that fire, he asks.
Her reply:
I don't want to change you / But you're a long, long way from the path you came
I'm trying to show you something / And a good, good heart will always find a way
I love the production on this track. The single kick drum under "I don't want to change you" took my breath away. It cuts right through, giving a sense of finality to that simple admission and the depth of its implications.
Friday, June 22, 2012
The Biggest Loser : Music as Soul Food
I'm reposting an article that I recently had published in ABC's The Drum on the power of music. To check it out on the Drum's website, go here.
In light of the Australian National University's decision to spill tenured and permanent positions in its School of Music, as well as the ongoing union fightback, it's worth reconsidering the value of music, and what we have to lose.
Some weeks ago I was offered some cheap tickets to go and see Canberra's Symphony Orchestra play Beethoven's 3rd Piano Concerto and Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique" Symphony.
On my way to Canberra's Llewellyn Hall, a cluster of posters advertising the concert caused me to question my expectations. "CSO concerts are an inspiring experience that feeds the soul and affirms our creative imagination," read the quoted review. Righteo.
Once inside, I located my seat just two rows back from an enormous Steinway grand piano which lay beached centre-stage. It looked ungainly, simultaneously powerful and uselessly impotent without its pianist (how could something so inanimate be capable of telling such stories?).
I cast my eye over the audience behind me. Waves of dark suit jackets and evening dresses peaked into crops of white hair. Around me, the sweet fragrance of ladies' perfume. Eau de 'special occasion'.
The lights dimmed and I nestled down slightly into my seat. To rapturous and instantaneous applause, conductor Nicholas Milton strode to the podium and turned to address us. "I'm so glad you're here tonight," he said. "We're about to go on a marvellous journey together."
He paused briefly, as if to check his words had hit their mark. Then, with a smile, he turned quickly on his heels, the tails of his coat flashing behind him, and raised his arms to attention, his baton poised for attack.
There was a moment's silence. The orchestra seemed to breathe in. And then, with Milton's baton stinging into action, the strings let out a collective sigh and Beethoven's opening theme rode to the back of the hall. As if awoken by the orchestra's lead and with the gentlest of touches from Gerard Willems, the great whale in front of me began to sing.
We were away.
That night, the orchestra played itself into life. It played its collective soul out on to the stage. And in doing so, it seemed to feed itself, to spur itself and all of us on the journey, growing ever more confident, ever powerful.
The players were alight. I watched them, their feverish eyes locked on their conductor, willing him to lead them. And I held my breath as he lifted them up over us.
He held them there. Safely. Allowing them to do together something that they could not do on their own. And in return they transformed the marks on the pages in front of them into a whole lifetime of stories - into a thrashing Russian prince, a grand marching army, a drunken boisterous bearded wretch dashing his empty glass on a cold stone floor and, in one particular instant, into a desperate gasping stillness. I saw them all, those things.
I feel very strongly that good music is about the sharing of souls. And that experience of sharing is so much more palpable when it is live. It's as if by creating something together in one another's presence, something that is bigger than all of our individual parts, we reach out to each other and say, "Well, there you are! That thing I always knew, but couldn't describe. There you are. And there you've always been!"
And all along, there is an awareness that that feeling cannot be kept. It's a fleeting glimpse of the road we are each of us on. And that's what makes it precious. It is a gift. A going away present from beyond time, to carry with us through time, to lighten our steps as we go.
I was reminded of two things that night. The first thing is this: music is written to be played. It is written to be played. Because it is in the playing that we unlock its secrets. And perhaps even more importantly, it is in the playing that we allow the music to unlock whatever it is in us that we could never have gotten to on our own.
It's as if by playing out our souls to each other, we create a space to allow something else in. And whatever that 'something' is that we allow in, it is different for every one of us, I'm sure. For me it is a sense that what I'm experiencing is very important. Perhaps the most important thing I'll ever experience. As if, when my life finally burns out like a match, I'll remember these moments most of all.
The second thing I was reminded of derives from the fact that the Canberra Symphony Orchestra is made up of members who work in jobs by day, and play music by night. This music wasn't just written to be played by prodigies. It was written to be played by the people. Which goes against much of the historical context it was created in.
It wasn't created to be looked at, to be kept behind glass and locked up at night. It wasn't written to be wondered at from a distance, like an alter in a church. Because music wasn't written to prove to people how small they were, but to remind them how great and full of wonder and terrifying they could be. It was written to raise them up and to unlock their secrets. It was written to be shared, delved into, questioned, swum in and sifted through one's teeth like wine.
It's as if those great composers, those interpreters of secrets - who in one of life's cruel jokes were forced to eke out their wretched livelihood off the whims of princes and nobles - were able to see something we couldn't all of us see, capture it, and bring it back for us to relive.
At the end of the concert, as the orchestra filed off stage, the doors to the Llewellyn Hall were swung open and the dark suits and evening dresses washed through them until the auditorium was empty. I looked up at the empty stage. It was if nothing had ever happened there.
On my way out, I walked past the same cluster of posters I had passed on my way in. The words of Nicholas Milton rang in my ears. "We're about to go on a marvellous journey together."
If you had looked at me you wouldn't have been able to see a change, but my steps were lightened that night, and I carried with me a new gift for thejourney.
~~~~~~~~~~~
In light of the Australian National University's decision to spill tenured and permanent positions in its School of Music, as well as the ongoing union fightback, it's worth reconsidering the value of music, and what we have to lose.
Some weeks ago I was offered some cheap tickets to go and see Canberra's Symphony Orchestra play Beethoven's 3rd Piano Concerto and Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique" Symphony.
On my way to Canberra's Llewellyn Hall, a cluster of posters advertising the concert caused me to question my expectations. "CSO concerts are an inspiring experience that feeds the soul and affirms our creative imagination," read the quoted review. Righteo.
Once inside, I located my seat just two rows back from an enormous Steinway grand piano which lay beached centre-stage. It looked ungainly, simultaneously powerful and uselessly impotent without its pianist (how could something so inanimate be capable of telling such stories?).
I cast my eye over the audience behind me. Waves of dark suit jackets and evening dresses peaked into crops of white hair. Around me, the sweet fragrance of ladies' perfume. Eau de 'special occasion'.
The lights dimmed and I nestled down slightly into my seat. To rapturous and instantaneous applause, conductor Nicholas Milton strode to the podium and turned to address us. "I'm so glad you're here tonight," he said. "We're about to go on a marvellous journey together."
He paused briefly, as if to check his words had hit their mark. Then, with a smile, he turned quickly on his heels, the tails of his coat flashing behind him, and raised his arms to attention, his baton poised for attack.
There was a moment's silence. The orchestra seemed to breathe in. And then, with Milton's baton stinging into action, the strings let out a collective sigh and Beethoven's opening theme rode to the back of the hall. As if awoken by the orchestra's lead and with the gentlest of touches from Gerard Willems, the great whale in front of me began to sing.
We were away.
That night, the orchestra played itself into life. It played its collective soul out on to the stage. And in doing so, it seemed to feed itself, to spur itself and all of us on the journey, growing ever more confident, ever powerful.
The players were alight. I watched them, their feverish eyes locked on their conductor, willing him to lead them. And I held my breath as he lifted them up over us.
He held them there. Safely. Allowing them to do together something that they could not do on their own. And in return they transformed the marks on the pages in front of them into a whole lifetime of stories - into a thrashing Russian prince, a grand marching army, a drunken boisterous bearded wretch dashing his empty glass on a cold stone floor and, in one particular instant, into a desperate gasping stillness. I saw them all, those things.
I feel very strongly that good music is about the sharing of souls. And that experience of sharing is so much more palpable when it is live. It's as if by creating something together in one another's presence, something that is bigger than all of our individual parts, we reach out to each other and say, "Well, there you are! That thing I always knew, but couldn't describe. There you are. And there you've always been!"
And all along, there is an awareness that that feeling cannot be kept. It's a fleeting glimpse of the road we are each of us on. And that's what makes it precious. It is a gift. A going away present from beyond time, to carry with us through time, to lighten our steps as we go.
I was reminded of two things that night. The first thing is this: music is written to be played. It is written to be played. Because it is in the playing that we unlock its secrets. And perhaps even more importantly, it is in the playing that we allow the music to unlock whatever it is in us that we could never have gotten to on our own.
It's as if by playing out our souls to each other, we create a space to allow something else in. And whatever that 'something' is that we allow in, it is different for every one of us, I'm sure. For me it is a sense that what I'm experiencing is very important. Perhaps the most important thing I'll ever experience. As if, when my life finally burns out like a match, I'll remember these moments most of all.
The second thing I was reminded of derives from the fact that the Canberra Symphony Orchestra is made up of members who work in jobs by day, and play music by night. This music wasn't just written to be played by prodigies. It was written to be played by the people. Which goes against much of the historical context it was created in.
It wasn't created to be looked at, to be kept behind glass and locked up at night. It wasn't written to be wondered at from a distance, like an alter in a church. Because music wasn't written to prove to people how small they were, but to remind them how great and full of wonder and terrifying they could be. It was written to raise them up and to unlock their secrets. It was written to be shared, delved into, questioned, swum in and sifted through one's teeth like wine.
It's as if those great composers, those interpreters of secrets - who in one of life's cruel jokes were forced to eke out their wretched livelihood off the whims of princes and nobles - were able to see something we couldn't all of us see, capture it, and bring it back for us to relive.
At the end of the concert, as the orchestra filed off stage, the doors to the Llewellyn Hall were swung open and the dark suits and evening dresses washed through them until the auditorium was empty. I looked up at the empty stage. It was if nothing had ever happened there.
On my way out, I walked past the same cluster of posters I had passed on my way in. The words of Nicholas Milton rang in my ears. "We're about to go on a marvellous journey together."
If you had looked at me you wouldn't have been able to see a change, but my steps were lightened that night, and I carried with me a new gift for thejourney.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Monday, June 04, 2012
Team Me - Weathervanes and Chemicals
I was recently challenged to write some upbeat music. Annoyingly, it's proving harder than I would like to admit.
Enter these guys. Check out this review in The Guardian:
"Their music has the orchestral grandeur of Arcade Fire but it's less po face, and there is male-female unison singing reminiscent of early Broken Social Scene, only the songs are more poppy. As someone wrote of Team Me, it's hard to imagine them writing a sad song, let alone one fuelled by dark urges. They make Polyphonic Spree seem like a Norwegian black metal band."
What's that? Arcade Fire without the 'po'? Tick. A-what-did-you-say? Reminiscent of early Broken Social Scene? Oh God yes, continue. Recently won the Norweigian grammy's for Best Album (their debut effort 'To the treetops')? A-scando-says-what?! Bring it in for the real thing!
Welcome to the bouncy-castle-esque world of Team Me.
Enter these guys. Check out this review in The Guardian:
"Their music has the orchestral grandeur of Arcade Fire but it's less po face, and there is male-female unison singing reminiscent of early Broken Social Scene, only the songs are more poppy. As someone wrote of Team Me, it's hard to imagine them writing a sad song, let alone one fuelled by dark urges. They make Polyphonic Spree seem like a Norwegian black metal band."
What's that? Arcade Fire without the 'po'? Tick. A-what-did-you-say? Reminiscent of early Broken Social Scene? Oh God yes, continue. Recently won the Norweigian grammy's for Best Album (their debut effort 'To the treetops')? A-scando-says-what?! Bring it in for the real thing!
Welcome to the bouncy-castle-esque world of Team Me.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Winter music - Talk Talk
When I woke up this morning in this fair city of Canberra, it was -4 degrees Celsius. This is colder than anything I've ever experienced in Australia, and quite frankly, something I didn't expect to have to put up with in this country. You can call us Australians what you want - small-minded, backward, racist, uncooth, parochial, antipodean, unwashed convicts - but at least the weather's great here all year round!
Well, no more.
Anyway - with cold weather comes a need for winter music, and there's no better than this track by Talk Talk. Enjoy all nine minutes and forty seconds. Just long enough to light a fire, knit a beenie, slip on the ugg boots, work your way through a couple of glasses of Lagavulin and think of how many different people you could ring to say, "&*$! me, it's cold".
Well, no more.
Anyway - with cold weather comes a need for winter music, and there's no better than this track by Talk Talk. Enjoy all nine minutes and forty seconds. Just long enough to light a fire, knit a beenie, slip on the ugg boots, work your way through a couple of glasses of Lagavulin and think of how many different people you could ring to say, "&*$! me, it's cold".
Monday, May 14, 2012
Bill Callahan - Too Many Birds
To get you through your monday, a bit of Bill Callahan:
"If... If you... If you could... If you could only... If you could only stop... If you could only stop your... If you could only stop your heart... If you could only stop your heart beat... If you could only stop your heart beat for... If you could only stop your heart beat for one heart... If you could only stop your heart beat for one heart beat."
"If... If you... If you could... If you could only... If you could only stop... If you could only stop your... If you could only stop your heart... If you could only stop your heart beat... If you could only stop your heart beat for... If you could only stop your heart beat for one heart... If you could only stop your heart beat for one heart beat."
Friday, May 11, 2012
Jamison Inc turns 25,000
From its humble beginnings as a poorly written and largely unattended travel blog, this website has managed to play a strangely important role in my life: a place for me to record things that I love and things that move me. Add to this the fact that Jamison Inc is now in its 6th year, and its become quite the annal of things that have excited me over the years.
Part of the excitement of Jamison Inc is not knowing who you all are. So whoever you are and wherever you are on this vast planet of ours - thanks for visiting.
Wednesday, May 09, 2012
Let's talk about the front page of The Australian
This article was original posted on The Vine. It. Is. Awesome. No introduction needed, just read it.
Thanks to Ollie for alerting me.
Thanks to Ollie for alerting me.
by lukeryan on May 09 2012, 11:34AM
Look, I know journalism is a difficult
calling in the modern age. I know that commercial interests have long since
overtaken a policy of strict journalistic objectivity. I know that editorial
policy is often dictated by people far above you in the food chain. I know that
trying to make yourself completely devoid of political inclincation is almost
impossible. And I know that much of modern journalism is a debasing, hurried
business.
But none of these realisations, nothing in the past 26 years of steadily accumulating journalistic cynicism could have prepared me for what The Australian, our paper of national repute, put on its front cover today in response to the Budget:
I want you to pause and savour that sight for a moment. Drink in all the myriad details. Alright, got it? Then let's discuss:
The Cartoon
This consumes almost a quarter of the page. It's the first thing anyone looking at this paper would see. If you were to make a snap judgment about the content of this paper based on the cartoon alone, you would have to assume that overnight Wayne Swan and Julia Gillard revealed themselves to be time-travelling Soviet agents and while we were sleeping they opened the gates and invited the rest of the Red Army into our fair country. There are war planes flying overhead. WAR PLANES. I feel that, beyond the unpleasantly violent associations, this attributes far too much excitement to the announcement of the Budget, an evening of policy saturation that is usually as entertaining as a flight with Tiger Airways. Moreover, the inclusion of a hammer and sickle suggests a far from comprehensive understanding of the particularities of Soviet policy, as I would suggest that a Budget whose primary thrust could probably be described as a severe reduction in Government spending is a fair way away from a totalitarian regime that didn't believe in free enterprise. I wonder if there's a spending sub-heading entitled "Gulags" buried deep on page 922.
Minor details that aid and abet the overall impression of imminent Soviet invasion: the horde of angry peasants, scythes in hand, following Wayne and Julia as they storm the Treasury; Wayne's zeitgeist-y wearing of an "Occupy Treasury" t-shirt; the uses of yellow and red which manages to channel both the Yellow Menace and the Red Peril; and the polluting factories in the background, evidently alive and well despite the crippling effects of the carbon tax.
A tweet from @MattCowgill sums it up: I believe it was Stalin who said "we will allow businesses to carry tax losses back & introduce an instant asset write off"
The Headline
Smash the rich, save the base. So, I'm going to presume that because the Government has reneged upon a 1% cut in the company tax rate it is, in fact, smashing the rich. The thing is, it's not even like I have a particularly strong opinion either way on the necessity of a 1% cut in our company tax rate, but smashing? Really? When I hear smashing, I see a giant, green, muscle-bound figure in remarkably stretchy underwear ripping the rich apart, limb-by-limb. I do not see a marginal cut in a not particularly onerous (at least if you're comparing it to other OECD nations) corporate tax rate, the effect of which will probably be marginal because our nation – with its world-leading economy, robust legal safeguards, relative lack of bureaucracy, high degree of disposable income and plentiful natural resources – is such an incredibly attractive place to invest. Methinks this sub-editor needs to go away and smash themselves up a degree of perspective.
But, hey, at least they know who the base is: the scythe-wielding peasantry. Although, given Labor's recent polling levels, this could well be all that remains of their core constituency.
The Columns
If The Australian had ever thought of itself as a fair and balanced paper – and it often makes that argument – then the inclusion of not one, not two, but three inflammatory and critical sub-headings on the front cover should probably put that myth to bed. And by put it to bed, I mean drown it in a pit of liquid asphalt.
First we have "Swan's making a values judgment", a fantastically insidious headline that transforms what was, by most measures, an exceedingly dull budget built out of an endless sequence of minor cost-cutting measures into a US-style class warfare campaign where the political parties are irredeemably split by a 1% shift in the corporate tax rate and a couple of tax increases on the very wealthy. Although, on the flip side, at least this makes the Labor Party look as if they actually have an ideological position to call on.
Second, there's "Treasurer matches PM's breach of faith with his own". Oh yes, very good. Gillard's backflip on the carbon tax is exactly the same as reneging on a corporate tax break. Does no-one in the Opposition (or its various ideologues) see the irony in spending most of their time bitching about non-existent cost of living increases only to accuse the Government of betraying the Australian people when it decides not to give corporations a tax break so that it can give money to people to help with the increased cost of living?
And third we have "Big business foots Wayne's welfare bill". More of the same, but it manages to sneak in the word "welfare", which as we all know, everybody hates, despite almost everybody who would profess to hate it being on the receiving end of some amount of welfare without ever acknowledging it. I'm looking at you, Family Tax Benefit.
Also, it should be noted that opinions about the Budget are given as much, if not more space on the front cover than information about the Budget itself.
But the truly hilarious thing about it all is that this cover successfully articulates the Liberal Party's Budget policy far better than Tony Abbott or Joe Hockey ever could. This is also the most depressing thing about it all.
The Headshots
There are nine on the front cover. All of their own journalists. Now there's the mark of a paper that is a little too self-satisfied with itself. This is less an exercise in front line journalism than it is the Editor in Chief wanking while we watch.
The Ad
And then, at the bottom of it all, there's an ad for Lexus. Go fucking figure.
Conclusion
This isn't intended as a defence of the Government's Budget (I'm not enthused) or some partisan shot across the bows of the Liberal Party or even a real engagement with the content of the paper itself, but rather to suggest that if anyone involved in the production of this front cover looked at it and thought "You know what? This is exactly what a newspaper is meant to be" then they have no business using the title journalist. Just call yourselves propagandists and be done with it, because this thing is closer to the output of a Stalinist regime than anything contained in the 2012 Budget.
But none of these realisations, nothing in the past 26 years of steadily accumulating journalistic cynicism could have prepared me for what The Australian, our paper of national repute, put on its front cover today in response to the Budget:
I want you to pause and savour that sight for a moment. Drink in all the myriad details. Alright, got it? Then let's discuss:
The Cartoon
This consumes almost a quarter of the page. It's the first thing anyone looking at this paper would see. If you were to make a snap judgment about the content of this paper based on the cartoon alone, you would have to assume that overnight Wayne Swan and Julia Gillard revealed themselves to be time-travelling Soviet agents and while we were sleeping they opened the gates and invited the rest of the Red Army into our fair country. There are war planes flying overhead. WAR PLANES. I feel that, beyond the unpleasantly violent associations, this attributes far too much excitement to the announcement of the Budget, an evening of policy saturation that is usually as entertaining as a flight with Tiger Airways. Moreover, the inclusion of a hammer and sickle suggests a far from comprehensive understanding of the particularities of Soviet policy, as I would suggest that a Budget whose primary thrust could probably be described as a severe reduction in Government spending is a fair way away from a totalitarian regime that didn't believe in free enterprise. I wonder if there's a spending sub-heading entitled "Gulags" buried deep on page 922.
Minor details that aid and abet the overall impression of imminent Soviet invasion: the horde of angry peasants, scythes in hand, following Wayne and Julia as they storm the Treasury; Wayne's zeitgeist-y wearing of an "Occupy Treasury" t-shirt; the uses of yellow and red which manages to channel both the Yellow Menace and the Red Peril; and the polluting factories in the background, evidently alive and well despite the crippling effects of the carbon tax.
A tweet from @MattCowgill sums it up: I believe it was Stalin who said "we will allow businesses to carry tax losses back & introduce an instant asset write off"
The Headline
Smash the rich, save the base. So, I'm going to presume that because the Government has reneged upon a 1% cut in the company tax rate it is, in fact, smashing the rich. The thing is, it's not even like I have a particularly strong opinion either way on the necessity of a 1% cut in our company tax rate, but smashing? Really? When I hear smashing, I see a giant, green, muscle-bound figure in remarkably stretchy underwear ripping the rich apart, limb-by-limb. I do not see a marginal cut in a not particularly onerous (at least if you're comparing it to other OECD nations) corporate tax rate, the effect of which will probably be marginal because our nation – with its world-leading economy, robust legal safeguards, relative lack of bureaucracy, high degree of disposable income and plentiful natural resources – is such an incredibly attractive place to invest. Methinks this sub-editor needs to go away and smash themselves up a degree of perspective.
But, hey, at least they know who the base is: the scythe-wielding peasantry. Although, given Labor's recent polling levels, this could well be all that remains of their core constituency.
The Columns
If The Australian had ever thought of itself as a fair and balanced paper – and it often makes that argument – then the inclusion of not one, not two, but three inflammatory and critical sub-headings on the front cover should probably put that myth to bed. And by put it to bed, I mean drown it in a pit of liquid asphalt.
First we have "Swan's making a values judgment", a fantastically insidious headline that transforms what was, by most measures, an exceedingly dull budget built out of an endless sequence of minor cost-cutting measures into a US-style class warfare campaign where the political parties are irredeemably split by a 1% shift in the corporate tax rate and a couple of tax increases on the very wealthy. Although, on the flip side, at least this makes the Labor Party look as if they actually have an ideological position to call on.
Second, there's "Treasurer matches PM's breach of faith with his own". Oh yes, very good. Gillard's backflip on the carbon tax is exactly the same as reneging on a corporate tax break. Does no-one in the Opposition (or its various ideologues) see the irony in spending most of their time bitching about non-existent cost of living increases only to accuse the Government of betraying the Australian people when it decides not to give corporations a tax break so that it can give money to people to help with the increased cost of living?
And third we have "Big business foots Wayne's welfare bill". More of the same, but it manages to sneak in the word "welfare", which as we all know, everybody hates, despite almost everybody who would profess to hate it being on the receiving end of some amount of welfare without ever acknowledging it. I'm looking at you, Family Tax Benefit.
Also, it should be noted that opinions about the Budget are given as much, if not more space on the front cover than information about the Budget itself.
But the truly hilarious thing about it all is that this cover successfully articulates the Liberal Party's Budget policy far better than Tony Abbott or Joe Hockey ever could. This is also the most depressing thing about it all.
The Headshots
There are nine on the front cover. All of their own journalists. Now there's the mark of a paper that is a little too self-satisfied with itself. This is less an exercise in front line journalism than it is the Editor in Chief wanking while we watch.
The Ad
And then, at the bottom of it all, there's an ad for Lexus. Go fucking figure.
Conclusion
This isn't intended as a defence of the Government's Budget (I'm not enthused) or some partisan shot across the bows of the Liberal Party or even a real engagement with the content of the paper itself, but rather to suggest that if anyone involved in the production of this front cover looked at it and thought "You know what? This is exactly what a newspaper is meant to be" then they have no business using the title journalist. Just call yourselves propagandists and be done with it, because this thing is closer to the output of a Stalinist regime than anything contained in the 2012 Budget.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Daughter - Medicine
UK singer-songwriter Elena Tonra sings with her boyfriend Igor Haefeli under the name of Daughter. The band put out their debut EP - The Wild Youth EP. Check out this single, Medicine. It's safe to say that this song will never make your pre-party Friday night mix, but the production on it is great and it's a great contender for the Lights Down Low - Music Up Loud - Red Wine In Hand Award.
Gentle ladies and men, may I present: Daughter.
Gentle ladies and men, may I present: Daughter.
Friday, April 13, 2012
The Bamboos
Australia's dominant musical contribution to the world is probably still best identified by those overseas as hard, sweaty, pub rock - think ACDC, Cold Chisel, Midnight Oil, The Church, Silverchair, Jet, The Vines, Wolfmother. More recently however, we've softened things up slightly with bands like The Temper Trap and Angus and Julia Stone getting widespread attention in Europe and the US. However, for whatever reason, one genre that just doesn't seem to have taken off here in Oz is funk. This is something that I've found baffling. But more often than not, Australian funk/soul bands are only thought of in the ignominious context of weddings - the occasion where white people get sufficiently drunk/amourous to unashamedly break out the soul dance moves.
The Bamboos are a funk band out of Melbourne and have been getting rave reviews for their live shows for a couple of years now. They are about to put out their second album, entitled Medicine Man, which features a number of tracks with guest vocalists, including this one featuring Tim Rogers. Australians will be well aware of Tim Roger's back catalogue with iconic Sydney rock outfit You am I. Here he lends his raspy vocal talents to The Bamboos' incredibly disciplined and James Brownesque guitar led licks. The result is this very catchy, and surprising "unAustralian" sounding single, I Got Burned.
I first heard this song on Triple J, not knowing who the vocalist was. It sounded too vulnerable to be Tim Rogers, too sensative... and frankly, too in tune. Apparently, Tim Rodgers was born to sing soul. Who knew?
This one is for the Dje.
The Bamboos are a funk band out of Melbourne and have been getting rave reviews for their live shows for a couple of years now. They are about to put out their second album, entitled Medicine Man, which features a number of tracks with guest vocalists, including this one featuring Tim Rogers. Australians will be well aware of Tim Roger's back catalogue with iconic Sydney rock outfit You am I. Here he lends his raspy vocal talents to The Bamboos' incredibly disciplined and James Brownesque guitar led licks. The result is this very catchy, and surprising "unAustralian" sounding single, I Got Burned.
I first heard this song on Triple J, not knowing who the vocalist was. It sounded too vulnerable to be Tim Rogers, too sensative... and frankly, too in tune. Apparently, Tim Rodgers was born to sing soul. Who knew?
This one is for the Dje.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Bon Iver - Calgary
Sometimes the rules of this blog get me in tangles. Essentially, if I like something, it has to go up here. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that you always get diverse, culturally relevant content. The below video, for example, follows on from the Bon Iver cover of Coming Down that I posted a couple of weeks ago. Having worn out my "listens" on that song, I moved on to a related video of Bon Iver performing Calgary for Triple J.
This stripped back performance is, again, so sensitively delivered, and so different to the original. Bon Iver tends to do a lot of the falsetto wailing. Somehow, this gravelly, earnest, chest voice gives the song an increased sense of sincerity. I luv luv luv it. Listen out for the treatment of the line, "Swollen orange and light let through, your one piece swimmer stuck to you." I don't even know who's one-piece swimmer it is, or why it was memorable... but the way he sings it, I wish I was there.
Editors note: When I played this song to my Mum, her response was, "My Dad always used to say to me: A girl in a bikini, I'll look once. A girl in a one-piece, I'll keep looking." Thanks Mum. Compelling, and rich.
This stripped back performance is, again, so sensitively delivered, and so different to the original. Bon Iver tends to do a lot of the falsetto wailing. Somehow, this gravelly, earnest, chest voice gives the song an increased sense of sincerity. I luv luv luv it. Listen out for the treatment of the line, "Swollen orange and light let through, your one piece swimmer stuck to you." I don't even know who's one-piece swimmer it is, or why it was memorable... but the way he sings it, I wish I was there.
Editors note: When I played this song to my Mum, her response was, "My Dad always used to say to me: A girl in a bikini, I'll look once. A girl in a one-piece, I'll keep looking." Thanks Mum. Compelling, and rich.
Friday, April 06, 2012
Le Skylab
Le Skylab : non-stop smoking and never-ending pastis, a rapey paramilitary uncle, johnny haliday reference, exploration of pre-pubescent sexuality, family sings dalida's bambino, 'l was there in may 68', gratuitous boobs, gauchist wankers, arab-hating facho, muff, unnecessary ten minute ending. Le cinema francais quoi.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
We're just kids playing grown-ups.
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