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Where’s Wi-Fi?

palmOne released their SDIO Wi-Fi card for the Tungsten T3 early this month. Like all of the products Palm make, it can be found on their website. They also sell their products and accessories on-line, so no need to go to a reseller. However, the Wi-Fi card is not for sale on their site. According to customer service from Palm, I have to go to a reseller who should have them. Isn’t that daft?

Looking at the resellers’ on-line stores: Carphone Warehouse, Comet, Currys, Dixons, Harrods, Inkino, The Link, Mobile Phones Direct, Orange, PC World, Ryman, Staples, Tempo, Watford Electronics and WH Smiths don’t have the card on their websites. In fact some of them don’t sell any Palm equipment at all.

What does this leave? None. That’s right. None of the official resellers have this product on their stores. So how can I buy it? And indeed, what resellers has the card been shipped to?

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Toktok vs. Soffy O

Number 3 of 2003 — Toktok vs. Soffy O

Twenty eight years after the formation of Cabaret Voltaire – one of the most important groups in the history of industrial and then electronic music.

Twenty two years after the formation of seminal Detroit group Cybotron, which provided the first home for the recordings of techno godfather Juan Atkins.

Twenty one years after the release of Dare! by the Human League.

We have with this album something which finally brings all of these different facets of the same genre fusing together into one captivating package.

We’re talking 2002. The biographies of Toktok and Soffy O are somewhat difficult to ascertain. Primarily because all that I can find is written in German. Or you can cheat and read the reviews at Amazon. Toktok started life in Berlin in 1993 inspired by the hardcore Spiral Tribe collective of the UK. Made up of Benjamin Weiss and Fabian Feyerabendt, they spent many years making punk electronica for illegal raves and releasing endless amounts of vinyl, notably on Ellen Allien’s BPitch Control label. Soffy O (Sophia Larsson Ocklind) moved from Sweden to Berlin in 1999 and joined with Toktok for live shows and to flesh out the otherwise vocal free music. Ultimately signed to East-West, this debut album was released in October 2002.

The overriding feel of this album is simultaneously playful and serious (listen to the lyrics). There’s a minimalism to each track. Using the barest instrumentation required to carry each song exposes the mastery of their songwriting. The second track Neighbour with its sparse analog strings which blossom into a chorus with addition of one simple buzzing pad line. Genius. I cannot really hope to convey this in this review. You just have to hear the album.

Jean is seems to be some bizarre pastiche of Hazell Dean and Dead or Alive, revolving around a filtered loop, a barely there keyboard rhythm section all for a song about a pair of jeans. Soffy O’s vocals throughout the album fit into the classic electroclash mould of slightly disinterested, sleepy, sexy vocals, except in this case, she can really sing.

Things get dark on Go, a lower than low bassline and crisp clinically clear percussion and synth effects. But these then drop out for a the introduction of a divine monophonic melody. The vocals come in, together with more monophonic leads or chorus lines and I’m holding up my TUNE placard. Incredible. Siamese Twins continues the darkness with a more atonal feel.

Club hit Missy Queen’s Gonna Die has an octave jumping bassline which leads up to the chorus and the gradual introduction of more and more percussion. Experience the classic delay between the key change on the vocal and the backing track. Sublime.

I wrote about songwriting earlier. Changes has a chorus which would be fine elsewhere, but there’s the addition of a Casio or D50 string line and everything is lifted a hundred fold. Follow this with a look at The Lookalikes“we all look the same, we’re all lookalikes”, with its “don’t wanna be ignored at the door” take on club life and its inevitable boredom “we just wanna go home, so bored, so bored, so bored”. Deconstruct or dive into the mechanics of the song and you’ll find it consists primarily of a bouncing bassline, ancient synth horns, percussion and that damn glorious string pad again – albeit this time in chords! This is so mindbendingly beautiful.

Sixpack and Talkative appear to be Cabaret Voltaire covers, such is the similarity with the Sheffield duo. But they serve as useful reminders of how far music has come in the last twenty eight years. Even if sounds just the same as it did back then. It’s at once innovative yet retro. One Of These Places demonstrates this by effortlessly moving into deep house territory and then back out again.

So there are the highlights. There is one fly in the ointment. The final track A Pointless Life appears to be a studio reworking of what feels to be a live track. Whilst I have no doubt that this speed punk workout would be great live, it doesn’t work on the album. That said, there’s no other album of 2003 that hit me with its majesty as immediately as this one did.

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Food for Salt

BBC2’s Newsnight last Thursday devoted most of the programme to problems with salt in food. According to a survey carried out by the BBC, 80% of people who responded to the poll want the government to take action and make it more difficult to eat unhealthily by restricting salt, fat and sugar in processed food. Many of these are the same bunch of people who (according to another recent survey) believe the government shouldn’t dictate what we eat.

Newsnight’s somewhat skewed view on salt included an analysis of certain items bought in supermarkets to fulfill one day’s food intake. This included the following, which it claims is [an] apparently healthy choice:

  • Breakfast of flaked cereal and fruit, two slices of toast, two sausages
  • Lunch consisting of a pork pie
  • Dinner consisting of soup, two smoked salmon fish cakes and vegetables.

Not surprisingly, this adds up to around 19 grams of salt; more than 3 times the recommended intake. Neither does this strike me as particularly healthy. Flaked cereals, sausages, pork pie and smoked salmon are of course full of salt. You don’t need labels to realise this. Shockingly, Newsnight also needed to emphasis the fact that crisps include lots of salt, by comparing it to the salt content of seawater. Why?

The government is in talks with the food industry to cut down salt content in processed foods. Others want clearer labelling. For example, labelling salt content is not mandatory. Most foods that are labelled include the sodium content since sodium based compounds are used as flavour enhancers, and are therefore not just salt. It’s also claimed that having sodium content is confusing because you need to multiply it by about 2.5 to get the equivalent salt content. So what’s the problem? If salt is a part of the sodium content, then by multiplying the sodium content by 2.5 you surely must get a worst case figure for the amount of salt. Additionally, why not promote low sodium content in food rather than low salt content? Or is the government telling me that people can’t multiply by 2.5. It’s easy: multiply by 5, divide by 2. Or failing that, multiply by 10, then divide by 2 twice.

What about Red, Green and Yellow labelling of salt content? Well, that sounds okay except for the fact it bears no relation to the quantity of food consumed. It’s best to stick with quantitative guidelines. You can’t mess with these.

Now we have to ask why there is so much salt in food. I’ll ignore the sample food intake from Newsnight as it is just plain ridiculous. Salt is used as a cheap flavouring and because it binds with water is often used to bulk food up. It stands to reason therefore that lower quality food is more likely to have lots of salt content. Indeed, lower quality food, whilst being cheaper, is also higher in fat and sugar content. Wouldn’t it be novel if the government promoted the consumption of better quality processed (or pre-prepared) food and the use of fresh vegetables over processed, canned and frozen vegetables. I reckon it would balance out cost-wise, plus have a beneficial impact to the public and the health service. This is without even beginning to ask people to reduce the actual amount of food they eat. Don’t tell me that people don’t have time to go shopping for fresh food. In any case, fresh food can last quite some time in a fridge.

Thus it’s time to introduce two other food industry conspiracies, one of which is with the collusion of the government and health institutes: the use of best before dates, and ‘do not freeze’ symbols. Best before dates are there to advise people on whether something may not be at its best. It’s not a ‘throw this away’ date. It may be my imagination, but I’m sure best before dates are nearer to the dates of purchase than they used to be. Having an earlier date encourages people to buy more food to replace that which is unnecessarily thrown away. If you keep hold of food a little bit longer it actually reduces the amount of money spent on food and reduces the number of trips to the shops.

The ‘do not freeze’ symbol is a classic marketing gimmick. If you cannot freeze something you have to consume it on the day of purchase or stick it in the fridge. Whereupon you’re then confronted by the best before date syndrome. In my experience there are only two types of food that cannot be frozen: some vegetables and most cheeses. Cheese is a particularly tricky beast as it loses its flavour quite significantly and loses its structure. Other foods may lose some of their flavour but this is only marginal.

So finally here are my recommendations. Firstly those that would be possible:

  • Make sodium labelling on food compulsary.
  • Advise people on the quantity of sodium (and indeed fat, sugar, fibre, protein etc.) that should be consumed in a day. That should only take five minutes.

And now those that wouldn’t be possible since at least one of them is too emotive for this current government:

  • Ban value foods
  • Ban white bread
  • Revise the use of ‘best before’ dates
  • Revise the use of ‘do not freeze’ symbols
  • Provide assistance to allow people to buy good quality fridges and freezers
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Missing the boat

According to The Guardian today “The Guardian is offering 10 free tickets on a first come, first served basis to “The MusicAlly debate: PR and P2P – the perfect anti-piracy pitch” on Monday September 13, 2004 from 6.00pm at the Guardian Newsroom, London, EC1. Sponsored by the Guardian, Guardian Unlimited and the Observer, the panel discussion will hear three top advertising, PR and marketing executives – Tim Duffy, the head of M&C Saatchi, Interbrand boss Jez Frampton and PR man and MediaGuardian.co.uk columnist Mark Borkowski – present their views on how the UK music business can avoid a public relations disaster as it seeks to confront the challenge of unlicensed file sharing.

“As British labels gear up to consider suing their own customers, how can the industry succeed in winning over the hearts and minds of today’s technology-savvy music fans and get across its point in a fresh, innovative and credible way?”

Too late folks. We’ve had the attempts at copy protecting CDs – many of which can be easily worked around, and which most people deplore. Now we have lots of legal music download sites (and quite a few more illegal sites). So what’s file sharing used for now? Sure, people still use it for music to some extent, but the main area that people use it for are software, movie and television releases.

And since when has the music industry been innovative or credible? Surely it’s not going to start now?

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Ian Van Dahl: Rollercoaster

Oh how I laughed when Ian Van Dahl claimed to be a project by three female producers. Now, I’d like to think I know a little bit about music, so I didn’t believe this for one moment after I heard their first single Castles in the Sky back in 2001. Why? Well, call this a sweeping generalisation, but you’d never hear anything as benign if it was created by three women. Take for example a random sample of women who are (or were) driving forces in electronic music: DJ Rap, Peaches, Traci Lords, Billie Ray Martin, Missy Elliott, Björk, Dot Allison. I think that proves my point.

I laughed again when they gave in and admitted that Ian Van Dahl was actually three male producers. Not quite matey. Ian Van Dahl was a name coined by a couple of Belgian producers plus the guys who go under the name of Lasgo. Vocalist Annemie Coenen (who appears to be universally described as ‘impossibly beautiful’) is the ‘face’ of the group and writes the lyrics. Things get further confused when one discovers that Surrender – Lasgo’s single earlier this year – was co-written and sung by Annemie.

Rollercoaster is taken from their second album Lost and Found and it’s my track of the day for a number of reasons: It marks a departure from the classic Euro-trance feel of the rest of the album – a little bit harder, especially the sawtooth synth stabs. But it’s also a missed opportunity. It doesn’t go anywhere. Mind you, neither do rollercoasters. The outro demands to be a lead into another track, but this doesn’t happen. Instead there’s just a lengthy fade out.

Lost and Found – an album more about losing than finding, at least to my ears – is currently available on import, having been released in Europe about 137 years ago. Or four months.

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Dreams

One of the things I find about having a cold is that I end up having loads of dreams. I started with this cold Monday evening so I have three nights of dreams to relate. Most are little snippets:

On Monday I dreamt that I lived in a house made of wasps.

On Tuesday I had a cat that lived with me in a flat on something like the 14th floor, but it kept leaving lots of wriggly little worms all over the place. I ended up chucking the cat out the window.

Wednesday was much more varied: Firstly I met a mate (who I used to know at university) in a bar called No. 17. We played pool, and the beer was quite nice. The following day we went back, to find that two women were using the pool table as a foot rest, all the seats were arranged like in a cinema, and the beer was really bad. So we never went back there again.

This dream continued with me and a bunch of strangers conspiring to arrange for a women to find out that his boyfriend was cheating on her. Then I became a detective and successfully got a DNA sample from a reverse signature transferred from a cheque onto a piece of paper. I don’t know why.

The final part of the dream was me making friends with an animal which was a cross between an otter and a red squirrel, except without a tail. It came into my garden and I fed it. It seemed really happy and then left. Six months later seven of them came back, and they all recognised me. We played together for about 15 minutes and then they left. I spoke to a neighbour who remarked that they do remember if someone’s nice to them and that’s why more of them returned. He had 25 of them in his garden a couple of weeks previously.

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Quandary

Those who know me are aware that I’m in a quandary regarding how I listen to my music. At present I have an extensive iTunes library (about 13,000 tracks) which lives, at present, on an external disk connected to an iBook. The music is on an iBook rather than my main G4 because the G4 is just too noisy to keep on all the time and I can here it underneath my office in the lounge. My music used to be on our office server but we needed more space there so that’s one of the reasons why the music came off it.

I also have a Slimp3 device in the lounge. This, combined with SlimServer on the iBook, allows me to wirelessly stream music from the iBook to the lounge, so I’ve no need to keep CDs handy. Running SlimServer on our office server was a bit too clunky for me which is the second reason the music is now on the iBook.

My quandaries are plentiful:

  • At present, SlimServer doesn’t stream files bought from the iTunes Music Store (FairPlay protected AAC). I doubt any time soon that it will do. So when I buy music I have to rip to CD and re-import as MP3s. It actually turns me off buying music from the store. All that convenience to buy music – then the hassle to convert it so I can listen to it elsewhere.
  • But, Airport Express streams wirelessly from iTunes and iTunes transcodes all music into Apple Lossless Format before sending it encrypted and securely to the Airport Express. So, why not get an Airport Express instead? Well, they don’t come with a remote control and iTunes can only stream to one of these devices at any one time. If I bought one, I’m sure I’d want to get another one for my kitchen. They’re nice and small. I don’t fancy running upstairs to change destinations. SlimServer can stream to multiple Slimp3 devices simultaneously – even different streams. And, synchronised playback of streams is handled, so you don’t hear the music in the lounge 2 seconds before you hear it in the kitchen.
  • Then there’s the Sonos system. This is coming in the autumn and supports multiple streaming, just like SlimServer. You can buy a remote control for it too. Just like the Slimp3 devices. But that doesn’t support protected AACs either. And it’s rather expensive because it’s designed to be used standalone with powered speakers. Grrr..

So I have no preferred solution. Just a bunch of imperfect options. I asked in an earlier entry on this site why people accept things that are just okay. The alternative question is why do people accept anything less than perfect? Each of the above solutions and products are more than okay. They’re damn good. Pity is they’re not perfect.

My current iBook set-up is, at present, just okay. I need a bigger disk at some point – and that’s a whole new ball game (assessing capacity, noise, number of ports, fans). But I needed something to let me play music on my G4.

Fortunately, iTunes allows you to share from one instance of iTunes to any number of others. Whilst sharing Smart Playlists is a bit touch and go, sharing an entire library is a breeze. So, I can access all of my music from the iBook and play it through the G4. But I cannot buy music on my G4, unless I then move it back to the iBook. Nor can I fiddle with my iPod which needs to be connected to the iBook so I can update its content from the music library. However, there’s a product called netTunes which lets me drive iTunes remotely. This is essentially a clever, application specific, VNC. It’s all written in Objective-C and Cocoa, so PC users won’t see a version for them. Importantly it does work. This morning I just updated my iPod whilst sitting at my G4. My quandaries still remain, but at least for the moment I’m a happy bunny.

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Eighteen

On 30 August 1986, Melody Maker published a review of an untitled debut album. I missed the review and this album that year. I was pre-University, living in Harrow, listening to LBC most of the time, so I knew nothing much of music that wasn’t on the radio or television. Similarly, the likes of Melody Maker (RIP), Sounds (RIP), and NME, were unknown territory. The review was written by The Legendary Stud Brothers. It’s now eighteen years since this album was released, so it’s time for the review to be reprinted here:

Richard Hughes tells the story of a celebrated Russion dancer who was onced asked by a certain journalist what she meant by her dance. She replied with some exasperation that, if she could say it in so many words, why should she take the very great trouble of dancing it.

It’s a lesson often quoted and more often than not misunderstood. But it’s an important lesson because it’s probably the only valid and understandable explanation for obscurity. Mysteries are not there to be solved, they are perfect in themselves and, if a mystery is the clearest, the simplest, the only possible way of saying what you have to say, there’s surely little point in us questioning it. It is then somewhat bewildering that we should find ourselves having to talk about and explain the finest debut album of the Eighties and a very beautiful, contorted mystery. It makes us want to shout.

Throwing Muses are four young Bostonians who have collaborated on weaving this particular mystery and the only real reason to talk about them rather than listen to them is that so you too will have that enviable luxury.

Kristin Hersh is the girl who writes the lyrics and music, plays guitar and sings. There’s the voice of violence in this music and it’s a hot, passionate female violence. It’s a voice like Joan Baez with spikey hair or a smacked-out Debbie Harry on helium, a voice that leads its accompaniment to suburbia, where Sonic Youth meet the Motels, commit adultery and die in a crime of passion. Throwing Muses sound like no-one else.

There is little point in, or even justification for, mentioning any single track. The album is what albums should always have been – a complete body of work. Every song here is a stubborn testament to the afflication of love, each note and word a glimpse into a pit of shattered fragments, each fragment part of a persona Kristin Hersh has created as the voice and vehicle of her obsessions. In her writing we meet the incurably terrified people who will not risk disappointment and are therefore imprisoned by fear, the greatest fear being of course humilation, which is here equated with love. Hence, by sad inversion of cart and horse, Kristin’s characters become convinced they are unlovable.

Musically, the result is an unnerving slide between whispered reclusion and uncontrolled agression, each climax a twisted observation of obsession, each obsession a twisted fetishist vision of life. Life as rape, subjugation, domination and death. Though it’s by no means new to sing about any of these things, what Throwing Muses have done is to find a new language for them. The scarred, scared figures that haunt their songs are opened like so many bleeding hearts, their extreme hostility and vulnerability at once hateful and understandable. The music, unlike so much of the music that accompanies these themes, is not just some background soundtrack for neurosis, it’s a punch, accentuating and projecting every hiss, mutter and scream. It’s so exact and punctual it’s simply sublime.

There’s something weird about this pleasure, something weird about this record. Its shocking poetry and musical invention are not something we would normally hope to find in a group’s debut, especially a group so young and American. What’s even more surprising is that such odd pop and mercurial self-obsession, though occasionally leaning towards the self-indulgent, is never pretentious. You believe every word that’s said. Finally, that such inelastic monomania should be so prepossessing either says something very grand and special about its presentation or something very strange about us. Throwing Muses is a gorgeous dangerous dance, but don’t ask why they’re dancing. The answer is the dance.

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