I have mentioned in the past about the 'BONG' chord which all Apple Mac computers make when you turn them on, and I said that I was beginning to find the sound irritating after several years of listening to it - I have only ever had Macs.
The trouble is that I only ever hear the sound in the morning, when we are all most susceptible to extraneous noises - the most extreme being Nokia's 'Irritato' signature phone tune. I found some relief recently, by pretending to hear the noise as a single chord pulled randomly from the Dam Busters march, but I can only keep up this self delusion for so long.
Well, someone has compounded my misery even further by telling me that the Mac 'BONG' was created by none other than Brian Eno, and he, presumably, has become rich from every time someone like me turns on their machine and hears it.
Mr Eno was the weird-looking geek in 'Roxy Music', the alternative Glam-Band whose career was launched here in Bath by a friend of mine when he hired the local theatre for a one-night stand for them, coinciding with the release of their first album. I quite liked them at the time, before I realised what a fatuous and vain clown Brian Ferry was.
Just before I moved to Bath, I shared a house - briefly - on the Cambridgeshire Fens with the ex Mrs Eno, and her
From one extreme to the other, I moved to Canterbury - also in the east - and ended up spending a month in the flat of Ian Dury, who I bumped into on the High Street as he was walking along with an old friend of mine. I didn't know who he was at the time, but how characteristically bloody nice of the man to lend his flat to a complete stranger, as he went on tour with his band.
Brian Eno has certainly produced some ground-breaking music in his time, the most innovative being 'My Life in the Bush of Ghosts', which spawned all that sampling from random sources which is now taken for granted in the music world. The album was so good that it inspired me to buy the book with the same title, and a weirder or more impenetrable one written by a complete mad-man you will never find. I only managed half of it before retiring with a headache.
I told a professional musician friend of mine (Bath has a LOT of musicians) recently, that I used to play (badly) a few different wind-instruments, and he asked why I stopped.
I told him that - some years ago - someone had told me that they 'could not live without playing music', and I thought 'bollocks - of course you could'. To prove this theory, I put down the clarinet and pipes, etc. and never picked them up again. Look! I'm still alive after all these years!
In response to this tale, he said that he thought it was unforgivable for anyone who could play music to stop doing so, and added that he could not think of a worse crime against humanity.
I began to think that this might be the difference between someone who plays, and someone who just plays around. I could live without writing as well, but - for the time being - I am not going to prove it, no matter how hard you try to get me to stop. At least you don't have to read it - it's not like it is coming out of the speakers in a lift.
Do you, like me, have an almost uncontrollable desire to punch the lights out of poets who stand up in public to read out their drivel in a monotonous, self-important drone? (closing question)