Ronan Keating is someone whom parents are happy to let their kids listen to. He’s a clean cut figure, he’s safe, a good influence. I think this is a very short sighted point of view. If you consider the deeper implications of what Keating represents, he’s the last person that should be held up to be a role model and someone to admire.
Firstly, he’s responsible for Westlife, let’s not forget that. Against all odds, they’ve managed to explore new vistas of blandness and predictability – a difficult achievement in an environment where blandness and predictability are already pretty widespread. They’ve extinguished all traces of passion or emotion from the songs they’ve mauled - it’s not enough to look the part by dressing like doe-eyed undertakers, they’ve got to mean it too. Mediocrity and being completely devoid of substance are not qualities that should be admired. Personally, if I had children, I’d be happier for them to listen to The Sex Pistols than Westlife. At least punk stood for something, at least it had spirit and could provoke a reaction. The only reaction I have to hearing a Westlife song is vague uneasiness and deep disgust.
I blame Keating for this, he set the benchmark with his own inoffensive and clichéd muzak - predominantly cover versions that are identical to the originals apart from his horrible squawking voice over the top. They’re utterly pointless, tapping in on the familiarity of already established music to make money. When he does come up with something ‘new’ it’ll be soulless and obvious. ‘Life is a rollercoaster, you’ve just gotta ride it’. Really, Ronan? Wow, what an original and thought-provoking idea. I’ve never considered that before, you’ve made me look at things in a completely different way.
I’m not saying that there isn’t room for pop music. It’s not what I choose to listen to but I can totally accept the disposable tunes produced by Girls Aloud, Kylie Minogue and the like. They’re catchy, well crafted songs and I understand why people like them.
There’s no reason therefore, why pop music has to be as crap as Keating’s. The fact that he’s been so successful is a sad reflection of the things that are wrong with today’s society. Namely, that it doesn’t matter if you’ve got a shoddy product just as long as you market it relentlessly.
And boy, does he market it. Whenever he releases a record he saturates the media; appearing on every radio show, TV programme or magazine that can possibly be used to peddle his CD. I get sick to death of seeing his weird, pointy face.
Of course, there’s always been promotion, but this total bombardment approach was pioneered by The Spice Girls. They weren’t so much as a band, more of a brand – their songs were mere jingles to sell themselves as a product. Their desire for media exposure smacked of desperation and they were willing to do anything to keep themselves in the limelight. Keating’s the same. Just look at the clip of Boyzone at the start of their career when they appeared on Gay Byrne’s Late Late Show in Ireland. They’re a new band, they’ve got no song, but here they are anyway. Dance, monkeys, dance! Most of them at least appear to be a little uncomfortable and embarrassed at being humiliated on television but not Keating. Look at him go in his silly hat, he’s loving it!
As much as I adore that clip, there are sides to Keating that I find a lot more sinister and manipulative. For example, I object to him exploiting the exposure generated by his involvement with Comic Relief to flog his records. Is it just a coincidence that he had a single coming out at the same time as he was climbing Kilimanjaro? Also, his new album entitled ‘Songs For My Mother’ – is it just by chance that it’s appearing on the shelves a week before Mothering Sunday? His marketing ploys are horribly transparent and it worries me that other people see him as being a harmless figure when he typifies such cynical opportunism.
When you hear him interviewed – as you undoubtedly will do over the next few weeks – you’ll hear him boast about how little he’s seen of his family because he’s been working so hard. Also notice how many times he uses the word ‘industry’. I don’t dispute that he works hard, most people do but we don’t have the audacity to call ourselves ‘artists’. The way he talks, it’s more like he’s slaving away at a coal face rather than being creative and self-expressive.
With the phrase: ‘music industry’, Keating’s emphasis is firmly on the second word. To justify his position, it should be on the first. If he put half as much effort into writing his music as he does into promoting it, perhaps the songs would be good enough to sell themselves.
15 March 2009
11 March 2009
Some Icelandic Folklore
Necropants
Firstly, the sorcerer must make a pact with a wealthy man who’s willing to let his body be used after death. Then, as soon as the man dies, the sorcerer digs up the body and skins it from the waist down being very careful not to tear or make any holes in the skin. These are the necropants and they can be used to generate money. This is done by stealing a coin from a poor widow – it’s got to be a poor widow because…well, it just has ok? The widow’s coin is then placed in the scrotum of the necropants. After that, the scrotal sack will periodically fill up with money provided that the original coin stays in place. I’m not making this up. Before the sorcerer himself dies, he must be careful to pass the necropants onto someone else who carefully steps into them one leg at a time. If the sorcerer doesn’t pass on the necropants, his body will become infested with lice – something presumably far worse than being dug up and having your knackers used as some kind of magic purse.
Tilberis
To get a Tilberi, a woman has to steal a rib from a corpse in a graveyard on Whitsunday. She walks around the grave a bit – so many times clockwise, so many times anti-clockwise – puts some blood on it from her left big toe, then wraps the rib in wool. This is then kept nestled between her breasts. On the next three Sundays, during mass, she must spit her communion wine into her cleavage and onto the rib. After the third gobfull, the thing starts to grow until it’s too big to conceal and she releases it into the countryside to steal milk for her. To feed the Tilberi, the woman cuts a notch in her right inner thigh and raises the flesh to produce a nipple which it can suckle on. When the woman is finished with it, she sends it out to collect the lamp wax from three counties and it eventually explodes from exhaustion. It’s tempting to think that all this is made up to amuse tourists – it certainly seems a lot of trouble to go to for some free milk. However, there is documented historical evidence that in the 18th Century, several women were convicted of keeping Tilberis. It’s doubtful whether they actually did of course, but the interesting thing is that people must have believed in the existence of the creatures at the time.
The Fisherman of Stokkseyri
‘As everyone knows, seals love pregnant women’. When an audio-commentary starts like that, you’re going to carry on listening aren’t you? Unfortunately, it turns out that seals don’t like pregnant women for any nice, cuddly reason – instead they prefer to tear them to pieces and eat the unborn babies. A fisherman who lived on the shore decided to exploit this weakness by keeping his wife permanently pregnant so that seals would be lured into attacking her. Before the seal had chance however, the fisherman would leap out, kill it, and have a plentiful supply of food and oil. This worked brilliantly for twelve years until one day, the fisherman was delayed and the seal got close enough to his wife to ‘stroke her fiercely’. She survived but could no longer produce children – something I imagine she’d be rather pleased about after being pregnant for twelve years.
Firstly, the sorcerer must make a pact with a wealthy man who’s willing to let his body be used after death. Then, as soon as the man dies, the sorcerer digs up the body and skins it from the waist down being very careful not to tear or make any holes in the skin. These are the necropants and they can be used to generate money. This is done by stealing a coin from a poor widow – it’s got to be a poor widow because…well, it just has ok? The widow’s coin is then placed in the scrotum of the necropants. After that, the scrotal sack will periodically fill up with money provided that the original coin stays in place. I’m not making this up. Before the sorcerer himself dies, he must be careful to pass the necropants onto someone else who carefully steps into them one leg at a time. If the sorcerer doesn’t pass on the necropants, his body will become infested with lice – something presumably far worse than being dug up and having your knackers used as some kind of magic purse.
Tilberis
To get a Tilberi, a woman has to steal a rib from a corpse in a graveyard on Whitsunday. She walks around the grave a bit – so many times clockwise, so many times anti-clockwise – puts some blood on it from her left big toe, then wraps the rib in wool. This is then kept nestled between her breasts. On the next three Sundays, during mass, she must spit her communion wine into her cleavage and onto the rib. After the third gobfull, the thing starts to grow until it’s too big to conceal and she releases it into the countryside to steal milk for her. To feed the Tilberi, the woman cuts a notch in her right inner thigh and raises the flesh to produce a nipple which it can suckle on. When the woman is finished with it, she sends it out to collect the lamp wax from three counties and it eventually explodes from exhaustion. It’s tempting to think that all this is made up to amuse tourists – it certainly seems a lot of trouble to go to for some free milk. However, there is documented historical evidence that in the 18th Century, several women were convicted of keeping Tilberis. It’s doubtful whether they actually did of course, but the interesting thing is that people must have believed in the existence of the creatures at the time.
The Fisherman of Stokkseyri
‘As everyone knows, seals love pregnant women’. When an audio-commentary starts like that, you’re going to carry on listening aren’t you? Unfortunately, it turns out that seals don’t like pregnant women for any nice, cuddly reason – instead they prefer to tear them to pieces and eat the unborn babies. A fisherman who lived on the shore decided to exploit this weakness by keeping his wife permanently pregnant so that seals would be lured into attacking her. Before the seal had chance however, the fisherman would leap out, kill it, and have a plentiful supply of food and oil. This worked brilliantly for twelve years until one day, the fisherman was delayed and the seal got close enough to his wife to ‘stroke her fiercely’. She survived but could no longer produce children – something I imagine she’d be rather pleased about after being pregnant for twelve years.
05 March 2009
OK Computers
After ‘iTunes Thursday’, when an unknown virus completely wiped all the music off my PC, I devised an elaborate and convoluted system to ensure that it would never happen again. To put this needlessly paranoid and obsessive system into place, I went to the Apple store fully prepared to spend about £300 on new equipment.
However, every item I picked up and asked advice about, I was talked out of by a member of staff. I ended up buying nothing and coming away with some useful free tips about how to get some of my music back.
Obviously, after building myself up for a big purchase, I was a little deflated at not getting anything (I had to buy a shirt instead) but the staff’s attitude was very refreshing. They could have just taken the money that I was waving at them and said nothing, but instead they were useful, informative and genuinely willing to help. That only served to increase my admiration for Apple – which was already pretty high anyway.
As a graphic designer, I’m automatically in love with Apple Mac computers. Have you ever tried designing anything on a PC? Don’t bother. When you’ve learnt how to use a computer on a Mac, PCs seem lumbering and illogical; there are too many limitations, too many helpful hints that aren’t helpful at all. They seem to assume that they know what you’re trying to do better than you do yourself. Macs aren’t like that. They give you all their power and let you use it to do whatever you want. They don’t second guess you, they don’t patronize you and they don’t tell you how to do everything. They know that if you’re intelligent enough to buy a Mac in the first place, you pretty much know what you’re doing.
However, before iTunes came along and made them popular, I was worried that Apple’s time was up. My industry was practically the only one resisting the pull of the PC – Microsoft was like the evil empire, with Bill Gates as Darth Vader. Apple was the plucky rebel alliance, winning little victories against an overwhelming force. iTunes was their Luke Skywalker.
I know they’re a huge, multinational company, but I still believe that all of the people who work for Apple are like the staff they have in their store: it’s not just about the money; they genuinely care about their products. Look at their packaging, for example. It’s so sleek and elegantly designed. The way it all slots together; the achingly simple, beautiful photography. Now compare that with a Microsoft box, busy with colour and horrible typefaces, logos plastered everywhere. Putting aside price, which one do you want more?
I know that that’s part of the advertising but there are other little touches and flourishes too. The way a file disappears in a little puff of smoke when you move it to a recycle bin. The little alien that walks on from the edge of your screen and zaps your selected text with a multi-coloured laser when you press a combination of keys in Apple’s version of Quark. These things aren’t geared towards selling anything, there’s no reason for them to be there. The fact that they are there shows a love of the product in the designer.
Someone once told me that the reason why Apple Macs don’t suffer from viruses is because only Macs are advanced enough to develop the necessary coding and the designers don’t want their beloved computers corrupted. I doubt that’s true – but I wouldn’t be surprised.
However, every item I picked up and asked advice about, I was talked out of by a member of staff. I ended up buying nothing and coming away with some useful free tips about how to get some of my music back.
Obviously, after building myself up for a big purchase, I was a little deflated at not getting anything (I had to buy a shirt instead) but the staff’s attitude was very refreshing. They could have just taken the money that I was waving at them and said nothing, but instead they were useful, informative and genuinely willing to help. That only served to increase my admiration for Apple – which was already pretty high anyway.
As a graphic designer, I’m automatically in love with Apple Mac computers. Have you ever tried designing anything on a PC? Don’t bother. When you’ve learnt how to use a computer on a Mac, PCs seem lumbering and illogical; there are too many limitations, too many helpful hints that aren’t helpful at all. They seem to assume that they know what you’re trying to do better than you do yourself. Macs aren’t like that. They give you all their power and let you use it to do whatever you want. They don’t second guess you, they don’t patronize you and they don’t tell you how to do everything. They know that if you’re intelligent enough to buy a Mac in the first place, you pretty much know what you’re doing.
However, before iTunes came along and made them popular, I was worried that Apple’s time was up. My industry was practically the only one resisting the pull of the PC – Microsoft was like the evil empire, with Bill Gates as Darth Vader. Apple was the plucky rebel alliance, winning little victories against an overwhelming force. iTunes was their Luke Skywalker.
I know they’re a huge, multinational company, but I still believe that all of the people who work for Apple are like the staff they have in their store: it’s not just about the money; they genuinely care about their products. Look at their packaging, for example. It’s so sleek and elegantly designed. The way it all slots together; the achingly simple, beautiful photography. Now compare that with a Microsoft box, busy with colour and horrible typefaces, logos plastered everywhere. Putting aside price, which one do you want more?
I know that that’s part of the advertising but there are other little touches and flourishes too. The way a file disappears in a little puff of smoke when you move it to a recycle bin. The little alien that walks on from the edge of your screen and zaps your selected text with a multi-coloured laser when you press a combination of keys in Apple’s version of Quark. These things aren’t geared towards selling anything, there’s no reason for them to be there. The fact that they are there shows a love of the product in the designer.
Someone once told me that the reason why Apple Macs don’t suffer from viruses is because only Macs are advanced enough to develop the necessary coding and the designers don’t want their beloved computers corrupted. I doubt that’s true – but I wouldn’t be surprised.
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