Categories
music

Today I have mostly been listening to

Veneer by Jose Gonzalez. Yes, the lower-than-lo-fi album with the track from the sony bravia advert. He’s very much in the same vein as Damien Rice except with a more restrained delivery and tastier guitar work. Not that Damien Rice is bad but Jose’s guitar playing is very special indeed. Think of Robert Johnson playing flamenco and you’ll have a feel for it. His pure and relaxed delivery of thoughtful lyrics is soothing and peaceful while edgier numbers recall David Kitt’s excellent “The Big Romance” album. The whole effect is like a gentle stroll down your favourite street on a soft autumn day nuzzled by a light breeze and a warm feeling of contentment. Alternatively, just go and buy the album and listen for yourself.

veneer.jpg
Categories
philosophy

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Clement Clarke Moore wrote the poem “Twas the night before Christmas” also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas” in 1822. It’s the first historical association of Saint Nicholas, reindeer & sleigh. For children, young and old, it has come to define Christmas and it’s a tradition in many english-speaking households around the world to read the poem on Christmas eve.


Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

Merry Christmas from R & I and everyone at Gaisan. May god bless and keep you always and may your Christmas wishes all come true.

Categories
technology

iPod use may damage hearing

I remember the warnings during the 80s about listenting to loud music on the original sony walkman. I paid the warning little heed and whether it was that or the booming base in nightclubs that damaged my hearing I don’t know. Either way, I have less than fantastic audio acuity which is embarassing in several social situations. Anyway, The Reg leads with this article which points out that in-the-ear phones can amplify sound by a factor of around 8 times. (yes, I’m converting from dB here so no silly comments) The artilce acutally proposes some safe listening habits suggested by Dean Garstecki, A North Waestern University audiologist.

So what can we do? One solution Garstecki suggests is the 60 percent/60 minute rule, whereby people use their MP3 devices for no more than about an hour a day and at levels below 60 percent of maximum volume. “If music listeners are willing to turn the volume down further still and use different headphones, they can increase the amount of time that they can safely listen,” Garstecki added.

. This is good practice and I’d urge any reader to take this on board. Unfortunately, I’ve a state of the art Pioneer in-car headunit with an iPod adapter bus so my iPod booms away in my ears even without the phones. Some people never learn 🙁

Categories
humour

Cute but no “hoor”

Jayz, life is never boring. R was on television yesterday. She was invited to be on the David McWilliams hosted Big Bite on RTE 1. I must confess that I haven’t watched this current affairs show much but it’s generally quite a serious panel debate, armchairs being the sole concession to daytime television fluffiness. McWilliams is always quite watchable and after his spell on TV3’s agenda the show has the credibility to attract heavyweight panellists, in all senses of the word. R & I (sounds like a musical doesn’t it) carefully boned up on news & current affairs from Ireland and around the world. We honed & polished her comments about her experience of cute hoorism and political corruption while working as an environmental activist and campaigning on environmental issues. I admit I got a little bit carried away as readers of my blog would suspect. Our shared 15 warholian minutes to save the world. The other panelists included journalistic bear Sam Smyth, political editor Chris Glennan (quite the raconteur) and the irrepressible Michael Healey-Rae (I hope hyphons have made it to Kerry!, only kidding). The omens weren’t good when I overheard R being told the segment was light and fluffy. She was less than impressed and brandished her notes with classic female chagrin. Sam Smyth was underwhelmed. I can’t help but think this was a last minute decision but who am I alledge political interference 😉 Anyway, what transpired was at times cringeworthy, at times brilliant and admittedly great television. Sam sat there with all the comfort and ease of a stern disapproving patriarch minding the kids while mommy was away. Poor Sam was out of his depth here but couldn’t supress a giggle here and there . R was brilliant however, someday I may even forgive her for saying on live television she’d like to run away with Michael Healey-Rae on account of his kerry charm and cute button eyes. Guffaws from the producer, the couch failed to swallow me up and the camera kept running…
With his bright eyes burning like fire and armed with his trusty cap, this bunny in the headlights was lost for words. Only for about a minute though. Words come easily in the Healey-Rae family, they droppeth like a decentralisation plan for the west from Dail Eireann. Ah sure I almost fell in love with him myself. The affair did have a kids-doing-something-naughty behind the bike sheds feel to it. Great fun!
I lost a biscuit in my tea when R claimed she was a “cute hoor” too. Cute maybe… Being a card carrying environmental and political idealist, the panel was sceptical but the producer was penitent. “Just don’t mention any names” she prayed.
It all came into perspective when R & I watched Dallas the next day. The genesis of the celtic tiger economy is found not in the green-tinted financial glass house of the IFSC but in the golden fields of texas. We love JR so much, we created a taoiseach in his likeness.