(‘Spotify’ by Blixt)


So, Diary, explain to me… please… because I really don’t understand it…

Why would any professional musician right now want to put their music on Spotify?

Taylor Swift has just removed her entire catalogue from the music screaming service, to much internet hububbery.  And earlier in the year there was a similar hubbub when a Grammy-nominated artist shared his royalty statements.

There is more and more talk about how streaming is the inevitable future of the music industry.  And many of my friends use Spotify and love it.  But I can’t for the life of me see how the business model adds up.

And I’m not saying it doesn’t, or couldn’t.  I’m just saying that I can’t see it.  And if anyone fancies explaining it to me I’ll be happy to hop on board the streaming train.

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Yeavering. Not a verb, but a noun. (Photo by Andrew Curtis.)
Yeavering. A noun, not a verb. (Photo by Andrew Curtis.)

Dear Diary,

The last blog was a rant.  A looooooong rant.  I started to think of it as the Blogpost That Would Not Die.  Every time someone would comment or repost I would feel the urge to add another 2,000 words to it. 

So, a change of pace.  The tune of the moment, dear Diary, is ‘Yeavering’ by Kathryn Tickell. 

View ‘Yeavering’ in iTunes 

(I was sort of hoping to embed a YouTube video here of her playing it live or something, but I can’t find one.  Strange how rare that is these days.)

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Extraordinary picture, isn’t it.

Saturday morning I saw an article in the Telegraph about a photo of David Cameron posing with some Morris dancers in Banbury.  The Morris dancers had their faces blacked.  Since then the Guardian picked up on the story.  And the Independent.  And the Daily Mail.  And so on.  Twitter is going a little crazy for it right now, unsurprisingly.

So, is Morris dancing racist? Continue reading

(or ‘Maybe the English weren’t totally shit at Classical Music after all!’)

Photo by Snapshooter46 (Flickr)
Photo by Snapshooter46 (Flickr)

Dear Diary,

Look look!  Shiny new web pages!!

About Me


The Half Moon All Stars

The Bastard English Session

Part of the new concerted effort to be, organised, particularly when it comes to gig hunting.


In other news, I’ve fallen in love again.  His name is Jenkins, and he’s been dead for over 300 years.  Don’t tell Hannah.

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Photo by Lyndon Hatherall (Flickr)
Photo by Lyndon Hatherall (Flickr)


Dear Diary,

Anyway, as I was saying…

This year you’re going to be hearing LOTS from me!  I’ll be posting lots of gigs, lots of new recordings, yada-yada-yada…

Yeah, you’ve heard this before, haven’t you Diary.  “I’m going to write to you all the time from now on!  I know I’ve been shit up to now, but I can change!  I can change!!  I’m going to make such an effort – it’ll be like it’s a New Me!  You’ll see… pithy posts and witty insights left, right and centre!  You’ll be dazzled!”

Total fucking silence for 6 months.

But you know what, I’m not even going to apologise for it this time.

For several reasons.

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