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Get Busy Living

As I type this, Irony is calmly slitting its wrists. Because it already knows what I'm about to say. So, let's help Irony along and carry on.

I am a big fan of privacy on the internet. Yes, this is being hosted on Blogger. Send some nice flowers to the funeral. Magnolias perhaps. Anyway, I work in an advertising firm so I know about some of the shenanigans tech firms, ad firms and media behemoths are pulling when it comes to recording things people do online. In a way, they might as well, since humanity seems to be doing precious little offline. In a whole different way, I don't get it. And, I shall attempt to explain with an example.

Earlier this evening, I realised something had to be whipped up for tomorrow's lunch. I like cooking but making food on Sunday evening has a different appeal. It gives me an excuse to mix myself a drink or two, fire up the Bluetooth speaker and trawl through my music collection to provide a background score to my vegetable massacre. The bank is vast enough that I haven't heard all of it. I'm from a generation that's seen the recorded music platform evolve from the tape to the cloud but spent most of it in the "music shall be in mp3 format on my PC/Hard-drive" era. Like old crushes, old habits die pretty damn hard.

In either case, what I do is stay away from music I've heard recently or at all and try and play something I have no recollection of hearing or know I have never bothered to. I can hear the collective baying and chest-beating of Amazon Music, Apple Music and Spotify right about now because they seem to (probably do) thrive on making "suggestions" based on what I've heard already. Video platforms like Netflix and Prime do the exact same thing. And I loathe this... this alleged efficiency. It robs me of the delicious serendipity in discovering genres I haven't bothered to explore before; the outside chance that I will click on a folder and find a gem that has fuck-all to do with anything I've played before. It also seems to "suggest" that algorithms and math know what we want. Which makes precious little sense from where I'm peering at it because most of us barely know what we want for breakfast.

Music, for me (and maybe for you lot) is like finding a groove. There are times when I crave Pearl Jam. Others when old man Cohen is the only sane voice in the world. What about those times only Hetfield knows that nothing else matters? And the moments when Turner knows I wanna be yours. That's just the familiar bunch. In the last couple of years, I have discovered so many genres, artistes and songs that I've instinctively liked/loved, either because I heard it by chance or a friend told me about it (yes, that counts as a suggestion but friends no longer know what I'm listening to... this isn't a commune).

Listening to music is a human thing. Thankless/Pointless as it may seem, I'm okay fighting for the freedom to experience it randomly. Because underlying the algorithms is the suggestion that one must experience the right/best/most amazing thing every time, all the time. And the arrogance that some equation has figured me/us out. To that I say - Get fucked.

Mind you, I am thankful for Google Maps. 

Anyhoo, live in the moment. Find something by chance. And maybe listen to the...

Song for the moment: Humbug - Goldfish

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