Random thoughts

It seems that the German radio stations have finally discovered the Scissor Sisters. So now I finally know what just about everybody else has been talking about.
The radio stations do what they always do, play one song so much that the likelihood of anybody ever wanting to hear this or any other song by the band ever again goes down to somewhere below 0.

They must do it on purpose. I wonder whether they get paid for every band they manage to turn into a One Hit Wonder. (In the sense of the old joke "My wife made me a millionaire" - "Wow, that's great!" - "I used to be a billionaire.")

But I really like "I don't feel like dancin'" and am currently contemplating whether I should buy the album. But then it's hard to judge a band just by the one song that made it on the radio.
So, is that a fairly good example of their style? Anybody who has one or both albums, what can I expect?


In work news, I am still working backwards through the stacks, re-cataloguing. On Thursday the stuff for the archival library gets send out. Katrin is working on the list of books that will be sold.
I have started in acquisitions book 5 and with acquisition numbers in the 8000s, after working through the series and multiple copy selections*, and am now in acquisitions book 3 and in the 5600s. I'm making decent progress, I must say.
I could do better but I definitely wasn't cut out to be a cataloguer and most of the time it's hard work - not because of cataloguing difficulty but simply because whenever I take a book from the bookcart I get this "Gosh, so many books still to go - I don't want to - It's so boring" feeling. If I hadn't that deeeply ingrained conscientousness, I would probably not even get up in the morning.
And besides, I am losing my research skills because of too much cataloguing!

The family next door has twin daughters, about the age of 12 or 13.
Greatly undersestimating the attraction two darkhaired girls would turn out to be for the local male youth, their loving mother has given them a room goingout to the street. That means the said youth gathers underneath that window at different times during the day and night like a bunch of stray cats. Fortunately, they don't sing. It would keep me from sleeping. They appear to write letters,though. Letters that are dramatically burned, judging from the burned paper I regularly see underneath that window.
To let the adorators get a look at their goddesses, the window is usually open. (The other reason for that is that otherwise the window would break from the noise coming from inside. Apparently, the CD-player of the girls only has two volume settings: incredibly loud and deafening.)
The open window gives me the opportunity to take a look, too. Yes, I know that is nosy, but I can't help it. And it provided me with interesting knowledge:
The girls are fans of just about any singer and band played by MTV or VIVA at the moment. Never in my life have I seen Eminem and Britney Spears right next to each other. It's only posters, but if either of them knew I guess they would come over and rip the pictures right off the wall.
I feel very grown-up seeing that. I did have a time when my walls were decorated with posters, but I had some kind of judgement even then. Meaning that I had posters of only one band on the walls. I hate to admit that, but it was the Backstreet Boys. The time I had posters up inmy room was also the time I tried to be a normal teenager and adore some boyband. Both phases didn't last long, though. The boyband period ended when I gave up on being a regular teenager, the poster phase ended even before that, when I was sick and tired of having these dead eyes stare down on my bed. Some paper face intruding upon my privacy.
It is quite a long way from Backstreet Boys to Sting, The Police and David Bowie. Somewhere in between I would place Robbie Williams, who has moved from boyband to real music along with me. Not that I don't listen to boybands or any other cloned musicians anymore. It is not as if I run to the radio and change the station as soon as they play that type of music. I would be unable to listen to the radio altogether. But it is nothing I would buy or even copy from somebody else. Makes me feel very wise and mature.

A very bad habit I have is singing along with songs I hear on the radio. I also listen to the text of any song I hear, and that may actually make me not like a song anymore just because the text doesn't suit me. For a song to become one of my favorites, music, text and artist have to be to my liking. So I usually end up liking only one or two songs from one artist. There are a few exceptions to that. Sting and The Police have been my favorites for a long time, through the Labyrinth movie I came across David Bowie, he became another.
Yesterday, something very rare happened to me. I listened to a song for the first time and immediately related to it. It fit my mood at that moment and it also reminded me of a good friend of mine, who is most likely to read this. So, Michael, isn't that part of what you've been telling me all along?
Here goes:

I can hear your soul crying
Listen to your spirit sighing
I can feel your desperation
Emotional deprivation

Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Let your feelings show

Picking up the conversation
Deep in your imagination
Tune into the lonely voices
Talking of their only choices

Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Let your spirit grow

Step out of the cage
And onto the stage
It's time to start
Playing your part
Freedom awaits
Open the gates
Open your mind
Freedom's a state

I can taste the tears falling
The bitterness inside you calling
Yearning for a liberation
Emotional emancipation

Let yourself go
Let yourself go
Let your senses overflow

Step out of the cage
And onto the stage
It's time to start
Playing your part
Freedom awaits
Open the gates
Open your mind
Freedom's a state

That's Depeche Mode: "Freestate", from the Ultra album
Want to know more? ( Read more... )

Tomorrow, I'm going to sing in a huge concert. I'm really talking HUGE here. There are about 80 people from my choir, and I think 5 other choirs, two orchestras and something like 7 or 8 soloists.
Sounds like a gigantic thing? It is. It's the 8th Symphony by Gustav Mahler, in case you happen to know it. It's called Symphony of the thousand, and that pretty much says it all. We're about 300, but it still get's pretty tight on stage. Some members of the orchestra sit in places were usually the audience is.
So this sounds all great and fantastic, but here comes the bad part:
One of the choirs has been practicing no longer than 3 weeks. None of us really gets along with our conductor - if we happen to see him at all. He's a rather short guy and we are many. Also, for some strange reason taller people are all in the front rows, so even though there are steps on the stage, we still have to peek around other people's shoulders to be able to see.
All the singers are divided into two choirs. I'm one of the sopranos of choir 1, but I'm standing right next to the sopranos of choir 2. Which means that the people I hear most sing something completely different from what I have to sing.
Getting interesting, isn't it?
This evening, we had our last rehearsal. It was incredibly bad. The ladies standing right next to me only sang about half of the time they should, and then they didn't find the right notes. But that doesn't keep them from talking ALL THE TIME. This is actually the thing that bothers me most. I know I'm not perfect, I know my choir isn't, but at least we try our best. These girls just blame it on everybody else when actually they could do a lot to make the whole thing sound better.
Usually, I don't mind concerts. I have been in some plays as a kid and regularly sing in public (only in a choir, though, I'm not good as soloist). But usually, I'm sure we can make it. This time, I can imagine the thing being over and the whole audience (who has to pay quite a lot of money for the tickets) just sitting there staring at us and talking about how bad we were.
There is some saying about that the concert will be good if the last rehearsal was bad, and my Mom reassured me that you don't hear it if two out of 300 people mess up. So that's what has to keep me from giving in to my stage fright tomorrow.
Maybe I fall down the steps leading up to the stage and break my leg and don't have to be there when the audience starts throwing eggs and tomatoes...
Wish me luck!