Wednesday, June 20, 2007

New Guitar


Tweaking and modifying mostly completed I think I can declare this guitar worthy of mention. Yes, I know it's an encore. Yes, I'm aware that the polepieces don't really match up with the strings properly and yes, I have noticed that it only has five strings. But it's still good, it has a nice sound and low action and...

This switch, which gives the guitar magical powers with the aid of some cunning rewiring and additional gubbins.

Also, did I mention it was free? ooh yes, no money down.

-Ben

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Two Chunks of Nerdery

Today was a very nice day, all sunny and shiny. I was up early in the morning to help my little sister carry her amplifier and electric guitar to school for a rehearsal with her band and after that wandered off into the woods with my new copy of The Master and Margarita to read it in some nice shady spot under the trees.

The reason why I have a new copy of one of my favourite books isn't for the usual reason - I've not read it until it fell apart, no, it is instead because I was curious to read the other - more critically praised - translation of the original russian text. I've found this reading of the book to be much more enlightening about the political and social commentary of the book which is rather subtle and below my radar when I'm not in proper academic mode but I'm not sure whether this is because the language of the book makes these points clearer or because the footnotes flag up the examples of it and make you aware of the ways in which bulgakov presented politics.

Overall I have decided - shock horror - that I prefer the earlier, Michael Glenny translation. The language is more natural, more clear and well, english. You see, with the Peevar translation you are never able to forget that the book is a translation - there are too many strained attempts to accurately follow the phrasing of Bulgakov's language. There are numerous occasions where the language has obviously had to be oddly warped and battered to include some sort of thematic motif which the earlier translation - unable to fit it comfortably into english speech patterns - omitted.

I think that the high opinion of the later translation is based on a rather flawed understanding of what a translation should do - The standard reason given for preferring the Peevar translation is that people who can, and have, read the novel in both languages prefer the langauge of Peevar, finding it more representative of Bulgakov's original. I, however, think that this is precisely the reason why the Peevar translation is weaker - I'm sure that if you know the Russian phrases which Peevar is straining the phraseology to express in English then it seems fine, but if you are unfamiliar with the original language (and, let's face it, most of the readers of the book are - that's why they are reading the translation) then it just seems like clumsy dialogue. The Glenny translation seems to try and find phrases that are equivalent in usage and implication, rather than translating russian turns of phrase which don't really transfer well. This means that it often misses some subtle reference to something or other which makes it less suitable for critical study, but I think as a book to sit down and read, the Glenny is better.

Mind you, having not read it in the original language, any attempt at a scholarly argument along these lines would be rubbished by people who have, and who therefore win in the game of intellectual one-upmanship. There is also the fact that I've not read the glenny translation in a good few months - it might not be as good as I remember.

------

Having used my brain for the first time in a while I decided to finally get off my arse and do something constructive as well - so I sat down and wrote an intelligent and attractive CV....

Pfft.

only joking - I got my tools out and dismantled the electric guitar that Ed and Lucy gave me in exchange for my old bass.

This guitar was in the worst state I've ever attempted to resuscitate a guitar from. On first examination early indications weren't good - the neck was bowed back and there wasn't any visible sign of a truss rod adjuster, the action was very high and the tremolo was stuck in the foward position.

After finding the truss rod, and using this... interesting setup I managed to get the neck to bend foward until it was straight and level



All the containers are filled with water to push the ends of the neck down whilst the batteries hold the middle up. I left it like that for a few hours, until it learned its lesson and stopped sassing me.

and after some fairly drastic lowering of saddles and tightening of springs i got the thing to the point were it was actually really nice to play - and to my shock I found that it actually has a really nice sound - very erm. bitey and sharp, kinda dark red and crunchy...

So now I have a decent electric guitar and if ed and lucy sent me that guitar as some sort of bet I think I've won.

Huzzah.

In other news the wireless network stopped talking to my computer within about 10 hours of it starting and I can't seem to persuade it to resume diplomatic negotiations.

-Ben

Monday, June 18, 2007

Unpacking

I’ve spent a lot of time today trying to make my bedroom habitable as, due to the rates of rent round here, it looks like I’ll be living with my parents for a while, or at least until I get some sort of inspiration about what to do with my life. I have no idea when that might be, could be a few hours, could be a few years – I hope it’s soon because I’m getting bored already.

The reason why I’ve not really posted anything in a while is because I couldn’t get my computer –in an attic bedroom*- to recognise the existence of the house wireless network. I managed to solve this problem with my usual method – that is, treat the router like a huffy child and just leave the thing alone until it decides to arbitrarily change its mind. Which worked.

But anyway, back to the making bedroom habitable thing. The obstacle to my bedroom being habitable is the fact that it was my brother’s room. I’m not saying that he has a lingering, powerful stench or anything, just that he has a lot of stuff. Due to the fact that this room is much bigger than my old room he never had to do the purging for storage space that I did – there are boxes of stuff in his cupboards that I was astonished to find are still sealed with removal company tape from when we moved here from Plumstead 9 years ago.

As a result of this general lack of order in Ed’s room the process of moving my stuff in is rather slow – for every box of my stuff I unpack there is an equal amount of Ed’s stuff that needs to be sorted through and either packed or thrown away. Most of it is, as it has been left behind, fairly obviously rubbish – just the detritus of someone living in the same place for many a year - I am, however, not very well equipped to be the judge of what, if anything, is worth keeping amongst the heaps.

There are, for example, things that I keep that don’t appear to have any particular value, train tickets, for example, whose only reason for preservation is a date on them, a date which only I know the significance of. Without Ed to tell me otherwise me I’m spending a lot of my time imagining the significance of many of the items I chuck and feeling bad for throwing them away.

Mind you, Ed isn’t nearly as weird as I am, he probably doesn’t attach such significance to pointless inanimate objects. I should finish this unpacking tomorrow and then I’ll actually feel like I’ve settled in and can start doing more constructive things – like getting off my arse and getting a job.

-Ben

*ugh. That line has reminded me of a line from Hugh Selwyn Mauberley – damn, the one thing I would most like to forget about my uni experience would be Ezra Pound’s god-awful poetry.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

London

Today my dad came down to canterbury, we picked up my amp from Bal's, then jammed all my worldly possessions into a battered looking rental van and chugged off home. It's the first time that I've ever actually packed all of my stuff in one place - other than my room - I've been accumulating this stuff for the last two years and I've never actually taken it all home before, I have quite a lot of stuff. I think I'm going to have to get my own place soon, just so that I can stuck all these boxes somewhere.

I'm going to have to draw out some plans of the floor space in my room, and just jiggle the stuff I need around on paper until I find some sort of tessalating pattern in which all my stuff fits inside my room without the need to clamber over heaps and use my bed as a guitar stand.

It's odd being back in london and it being niether a brief 'see as many friends and relatives as you can' stay nor the familiar summer routine of settling in and preparing for death by boredom. I'm currently in a sort of uni/not-uni wasteland between leaving uni town graduating - i'm home, but I don't feel like I'm 100% finished with uni yet.

Mind you, that's probably because I don't want to have to face up to the unsexiness of work which is the inevitable consequence of not-uni.

Oh well. At least the shock value that me getting a first holds should keep my family distracted from the issue of me being a directionless, jobless slacker for a while.

-Ben

Saturday, June 09, 2007

My Degree

I'm waay too drunk to write anything sensible on here right now, too much beer pong, but I feel I should mention that I got my results today and I am now the proud possessor of a first class degree in english and american literature from the university of kent. Better still, I'm one of about 6 people in my whole department who got one, and one of 3 doing my course who got one. Which makes me very smug.

I rock.

That is all.

-Ben

Friday, June 08, 2007

Silly Musical Instruments 2

This one isn't nearly as strange as the Tromboon, and to be honest is probably quite boring, I just love the name of the instrument.

oboe d'amore

Seriously, the oboe of love? I'm pretty sure that there is no known incidence of an oboeist luring a member of the opposite sex with the seductive nasal whine of their instrument of choice. The Lasso D'amore, on the other hand, is a veritable sex-on-legs of an instrument.

For an idea of the beautiful sound of a Lasso D'amore, being played by a master, I refer you to the last 10-20 seconds or so of I'm the Urban Spaceman By the Bonzo Dog Band.

-Ben

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Silly Musical instruments

The Tromboon

I want one (listen to the sound file, it is rather lovely)

losing things

I love it when you read through accounts of hauntings and poltergeists in which the afflicted party mentions 'things just disappearing' as evidence of nasty creatures from the scary beyond messing with their head. In the process of cleaning out everything in my room and generally stripping it down to the state it was in when I moved in I've already found a couple of things that I thought I'd lost long ago. Some of them are perfectly standard cases of misplaced objects - I found a young persons railcard at the bottom of a desk drawer that I could have sworn I left on a train to manchester in 2004, but there is nothing particularly interesting about that - I do things like that all the time.

The interesting one, well, interesting to me and seeing I'm the only one who reads this that's all that seems to matter, is the popshield for an old microphone of mine that I found among the books on my shelf. I dropped it when sitting on the end of my bed about 6 months ago and the grille and popshield flew off on landing. I remember that it was relatively soon after an inspection by our landlord and so my room was quite tidy. I bent over and picked up the popshield - which is a small, black, piece of foam - and, thinking of how easily misplaced it would be, put it on the shelf next to me, or so I thought, whilst I rummaged around and found the grille. When I turned back to the shelf, however, it was gone.

I looked everywhere in the one or two metre radius around the bookshelf that it could have possibly been put on or been blown to but found nothing - my mind boggled (which is painless, luckily); my eyes had been off it for about 10 seconds in which it had vanished.

If I was more into that sort of thing, or perhaps if I was in a place that could possibly support the idea of a haunting (you really can't have a haunted 1960's ex-council house built on former farmland) I would have put this down to some sort of invisible beastie snatching away my precious popshield and gone to church more, being the heathen that I am, however, I just assumed I was going more crazy and made a new popshield out of cut up old socks. Which probably didn't suceed in doing anything other than making me look more crazy.

Whilst packing all my books I found it, exactly where I thought I'd put it, sort of - It was lying, sure enough, on top of a book that was lying flat on the front of one of my shelves. The reason why I didn't find it was that the book in question was underneath a pile of other books. I figure what must have happened was that I put it on top of the book, then, when rummaging around for the grille, half unconsciously picked up a book that was on the floor and put it on the shelf on top of the popshield. Not remembering having done this, however, it appeared to me that the popshield vanished - I turned round to see a book lying there with no popshield on it - I didn't pay any attention what either book was so I didn't notice that it was different.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this exactly, probably just giving an example that the weirdness of human behaviour, whether malicious or stupid, probably accounts for the vast majority of ghost experiences and other such woo.

-Ben

oh yes, and if you were wondering how an object lost since 2004 could be in a drawer in a house that I've only lived in since 2005, which I know you aren't, but I'll answer anyway because I'm bored - it's because I basically tipped the contents of my desk drawers in my first year flat into boxes then, in an absence of the motivation to sort through the heaps, emptied them straight into the desk drawers of my new flat at the beginning of the second year - as a result I've been sorting through heaps of first year essays, handouts and lecture notes - some of which, like a sheaf of notes on Dario Fo's Accidental Death of an Anarchist, aren't even mine.

Packing , continued


Well, that's my books done. It didn't look like I had quite this much when they were sitting on my shelves, nor did I expect them to be this heavy. Although I have just noticed that the shelves appear to be quite seriously bowed from the weight.

leaving canterbury

I was doing the washing up last night and generally cleaning house, so I'm feeling a little hungover today (don't ask) and it has once again occurred to me that I've got to actually start packing and get ready to leave here.

It's a bit of a strange situation as, because the rent is year round on this house, I've never actually bothered to completely pack and clear out in the two years I've lived here - in the summer I generally grab my computer, some books and my clothes and leave everything else here. It raises the interesting quesion of just how much stuff I have, and how much stuff I've forgotten I have. I mean, seriously, at the end of the first year I found a huge pile of nice clothes that I'd not worn in a year because I dropped them on the floor of the wardrobe and then dropped a bag on the in the first week. Under my bed I found my timetable from the first term, that I thought I'd lost at the time, and some underwear that not only wasn't mine but belonged to a girlfriend I'd broken up with some 8 months previously. In the light of this I really wonder what on earth I'm going to find in my room this time, probably nothing that interesting because my life hasn't been that eventful but still, wierd shit. At least I hope so, otherwise this is going to get really really boring.

I figure I've probably got about a car's boot worth of books at least, my amp takes up about half the back of a car, plus the three guitars, and the computer - the stereo, my cds etc, will probably take up a fair amount of room. then there's all the stuff that I don't even think of as things I can pack - the kitchen pots and pans, the bed linen, all the stuff that has been discarded and forgottten but nonetheless must move. It's like when we moved house when I was 12, I ended up with three boxes in my bedroom marked 'ben's misc' which were full of such useless crap that it took me about three years before I went through them and threw it all out.

man, this kinda sucks. But still, I feel like my life needs to start over in some way or other, and it's not possible to start over in a town you'll only be in for a few weeks, with people you'll never see again, so the last few weeks have been more frustrating than enjoyable a lot of the time.

anyway. I'm going to start putting things into plastic boxes labelled 'colouring materials 1', 'large bricks 3' and suchlike (anyone who has at least one teacher parent moves house with these)

-Ben

Monday, June 04, 2007

Artsfest

Saturday was the day of artsfest which is an excuse to go onto campus and drink beer in the sunshine thinly disguised as a music event. As part of the pretence that we weren't all there to ogle the girls in their summer dresses I was playing in one of the bands. It was a lot of fun, I was playing in a band that I had been in for about 3 days previously and probably am not in anymore, which added an interesting element of difficulty to what would otherwise have been pretty routine stuff musically. The band I was in were pretty good, as far as I could figure from my perspective - I can't really comment on the singer due to the fact that, where I was standing at least, he was totally inaudible over the sound of two big guitar amps, my bass amp and a drumkit - my friends told me that not being able to hear him wasn't a hugely bad thing, however.

I was reminded of just how much fun playing with bands is, when I contemplate the prospect of playing in front of audiences I worry that I'm not good enough, I think about how I'm not that good a musician and don't have the immaculately polished skills of a lot of people. When I'm up on stage, however, I couldn't give a crap - I lost my place completely in the opening song but just grinned and laughed and rejoined on the next bar. I stop being self conscious once I'm in front of an audience, I dance like a prat, talk bollocks and generally showboat.

I also learned that my bass amp, despite the fact that it is big and heavy, is woefully underpowered for any kind of gig situation - I was completely and utterly drowned out from the moment that the second guitarist came in and struggling before that. I need a more powerful amp head at least, possibly some new speakers, if I'm going to be playing any more gigs. oh well, I've been meaning to get a better amp than the one I have since before I even bought it.

I spent the rest of the day doing what I always do at artsfest, that is, drinking too much and getting sunburned. I didn't feel drunk but, looking back, perhaps I should have stopped after eight cans of lager, whether I was swaying or not. i felt fine the next day though. huzzah.

erm, since then I've done a whole lot of bugger all. I should probably start packing soon and get ready to shuffle off this campus soil and get myself a soul destroying office job. yay. I like to end on a high note.

-Ben

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Whitstable (again)

Today I found myself sitting at my computer in the light of lovely noon sunshine, having been awake for all of about 10 minutes. I decided that I should do something with myself today, something that would actually take advantage of the pretty weather and the lovely part of the world I'll soon be taken away from. So I grabbed Matt and Tom and we shambled off to whitstable.

I would have brought my camera and taken many photos but I figured that Tom would, and that the photos he took would be way better than anything I could ever take - I mean seriously, he can make me look halfway attractive, the boy's got a gift - but unfortunately his camera battery died halfway there and so there are no photos of our journey. Believe me though, it was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, beautifully warm and the air was full of strange and wonderful butterflies. As I write I'm generally feeling very well disposed towards everyone and everything as a result of the day's loveliness - although I'll concede that this is probably partly due to the alcohol I consumed at woody's after the walk back and partly due to the fact that I'm listening to Bela Fleck and revelling, just for a moment, in the idea that I might be able to play as well as Vic Wooten one day.

But anyway, I'm really not sure where I'm going with this - ah yes, I went to whitstable today, dozed on the beach listened to the sound of the waves scrunching up the gravel beach -- later Me, Matt and Tom adjourned to Woody's to drink cheap booze and to discuss how parkwood was cooler back when me and my friends lived there.

Although I'm sure everyone thinks that, even the boring buggers who live there now.

heh, I'm knackered and sleepy.

-Ben

The Fretless

I’ve gone ahead and finished the modifications to my fretless bass, and I have to say that, with the exception of a few minor cosmetic blemishes on the fretboard and a burn on the back of my finger which will probably leave quite a sizable scar, it has been a complete success. Here are the remaining stages of the process.

I last wrote when I had just finished shielding the cavities of the body with aluminium foil. I hadn’t got round to wiring the different sections to ground yet and I’ll admit that I had doubts as to whether or not the foil would be sufficient to shield the cavities from the sheer amount of electrical noise that my room seems to funnel into my instruments.

I managed to eventually find a shop in Canterbury that sold sandpaper (you just have to keep walking down Wincheap high street until you are practically in Ashford – it’s on the left and looks like a proper old fashioned hardware store) and finished sanding the finish off the body of the bass, leaving it a nice matt black rather than a cheap looking shiny thing.

The next day I got some wire and stripped all the shielding off it, cut it to the right length, and ran it through the wiring channels to the pickup cavities. I made sure that I had enough to stretch this wire along the length of the bottom of each cavity, maximising the chances of it making a decent connection to the entirety of the shielding foil around the pickups, and taped it down with electrical tape (I tried soldering it to the foil in one or two places but as far as I can tell it isn’t possible to make a secure connection to foil with solder, so I made doubly sure with tape – it appears to have worked.)

After this I turned my soldering iron to the other electronics, I ‘m not going to go into a huge amount of detail on the methodology of this part, but I feel I should point out that this – the double volume pot I was using – is very, very small. Like tinysmall. I started to wire up all the pots etc. with as much of the connecting and grounding wires as I could without actually putting them inside the control cavity, and once I’d done that I started to wire up the pickups and grounding wires to the pots and jack. After I’d loosely bolted in the volume and tone pots the hot output wire connecting the volume pot with the tone pot broke – evidently I made a slip when cutting off the shielding that didn’t show itself until I tried to bend it into the cavity. This meant that I had to unsolder and remove the aforementioned incredibly small and intricate double volume pot from the cavity and start that whole process again. I was, however, determined to be professional and so after merely uttering a simple ‘oh bollocks’ I gritted my teeth and set about that task.

I’m guessing that my concentration was impaired by my frustration because when doing a particularly intricate bit of desoldering my hand slipped and I burned the back of my middle finger on my right hand so badly that I screamed like a crazy man and spent a good few minutes holding my hand under the cold tap and loudly swearing at the world in general in the most colourful and unpleasant terms I could think of. As I write, about a week after I did it, I’m looking at the icky patch of scorched skin at the bottom of the hole in my finger where the burned and blistered surface has come off – kids, don’t solder angry; always curse the universe fully whenever you encounter a frustrating setback.

One big problem that I’d been putting off for as long as possible was the fact that I don’t really know what the bridge pickup on my fretless is – I bought the bass from a pawn shop in Plymouth in 2006 and my research on the internet have told me that A. the bass was manufactured sometime between 1985 and 1994 (personal speculation based on various insubstantial details causes me to think that it was probably made in the late 1980s) and B. that the bridge pickup - along with the two on/off switches for the two pickups – was added in by someone else at some stage in the bass’s history. Further investigation poking around with it has told me that the pickup is unusual and probably quite expensive – the adjustable polepieces and split coil humbucking design suggesting that it is most likely a DiMarzio ‘Model J’. Being unable to find any wiring diagrams for a DiMarzio pickup of indeterminate age, however, I had to deduce the significance of the four different coloured wires myself. Through devilish cunning I managed to get it down to a 50/50 split - either the white was hot and the black was ground, or it was the inverse. I decided to go with the most logical option – the first – and wired it all up. The work on the neck not yet being finished I was unable to test the wiring properly (by playing the thing) – only to plug it in and poke the pickups with a knife to confirm that they were all connected up and making some sort of sound. As far as I could tell, it worked – which was a bit of a shock.

After I’d finished the neck refinishing, which took two days because it kept raining and forcing me inside, I reassembled my bass and set it up. Once the strings were on and the bass plugged in I discovered that the pickups were wired out of phase – I wasn’t even remotely surprised, there was a 50/50 chance of this happening and it would be difficult to remedy if it was wrong, therefore, according to Murphy’s law there was only one way things were ever going to go down, I knew this when wiring it up, but I also knew that if I changed my mind and rewired it before I could test it then that would turn out to be the wrong way.

Rewiring the pickup turned out to not be as traumatising a process as I had envisaged and the whole thing was up and running within about 10 minutes of the problem being discovered. When plugged in and with the amp turned up the shielding is so good that I actually have to press the bass's front against the side of my poweramp before the thing makes any noise at all.

I now have a very tasty fretless to match my very tasty fretted, the pickups have a growly bite to them that I've never heard on a passive instrument that cost less than £400 and the newly finished neck is beautifully silkysmooth. On top of that it looks badass with its new matt finish, I tihnk you'll agree. Huzzah.





Now I just have to learn to play it properly.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Fretless Neck Refinishing

I play the electric bass, I'm not really a proper musician – I can’t read music, I never had a lesson in anything and I could write the sum total of my musical theory knowledge on the back of a matchbox… in lipstick – I am comfortable with this, however, so, unlike many fretless bass players, I feel no need to try and make it sound like an upright bass. I use rotosound roundwound strings and position my right hand near the bridge. The problem with this set up is that it wears grooves in an unfinished rosewood fretboard faster than you can say ‘Jaco Pastorius’ and this was starting to cause me some problems. I found a guide on the internets which suggested varnishing the fretboard with superglue and figured I’d give it a shot because it wouldn’t cost much to try and if it went wrong I could always just sand it off.

I make no claims about this being a particularly good method, like all things I do it's kinda half arsed and involves as little expertise and equipment as you can possibly manage - I figured I'd put it up here though, because I'm sure there are others, like myself, who aren't hugely interested in doing a professional quality job, just one that looks ok and works. It's bare bones stuff, so if I say to do something or not to do something it isn't because I think it sounds like the right thing - it's probably because I've done the opposite at some stage and didn't like the result.

Materials Needed

- 1 Pot of superglue (I found that about 20g was sufficient, although more might be a good idea) I used only the finest Wilkinson’s £1.50 a pot stuff.

- 1 large packet of disposable gloves (you don’t want to become permanently attached to your bass, and will probably need to change gloves often)

- lots of sandpaper, from about 250-300 grit to the stuff that is essentially rough toilet paper

- a washing-up scouring sponge

Methodology

You’ll need to do this outside. Remove the nut (try very hard not to damage it) they are normally only lightly glued in – if at all – so it shouldn’t be too hard, just ping it off with a screwdriver or something. Mask off the body of the bass (if the neck is still attached to the bass, I just unbolted the neck because I needed to anyway) to prevent scuffing the finish, that is, if you actually care. And mask off the back of the neck – this is more important, the back of the neck is a surface you are constantly touching and sliding your thumb up and down – if it has imperfections they will get annoying fast.

Sand down the fretboard, preferably with some sort of sanding block to keep things level and smooth out imperfections but if you have very flat hands, or just can’t be arsed to find a suitable blocky type thing, then just use your hands. After it is sanded smooth and clear of any serious imperfections, scrub the bejeasus out of it with a wet scouring sponge a couple of times, drying it in between with a cloth – this is to get all the dust off it before you apply the first coat.

Put on the gloves, then get some sandpaper that you’ve already used and splurge a 50p sized blob of superglue onto the back of it. Spread this evenly over the surface of the fretboard, splurging on more if needed. Now leave to dry – you’ll be doing that a lot so I suggest listening to something to keep you entertained, I found that the radio series of the Mighty Boosh and The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy work especially well for this purpose.

When it is dry add another coat, then wait for that coat to dry. If you don’t think that it looks sufficiently well covered then add a third coat, but that one isn’t essential. If no third coat is desired then wait a long time, longer than seems sensible, to make sure that the glue is completely dry (don’t touch it to check, it’ll leave marks) and sand it down with light sandpaper. The reason for the extra long wait is that if you start sanding it down when not all of the glue is completely dry then the white sanding residue will stick to the still wet parts and you will end up with misty looking discoloured sections of finish. After you’ve sanded it fairly smooth get out the sponge and scrub it down before you add another set of coats.

Repeat this process a few more times, enough to give you, say, at least six layers of glue in total. Then lightly sand it smooth with fine sandpaper and polish it with the scrubbing side of the sponge and some cloth.

Reattach the neck to the body of the bass (if you took it off) and begin the process of setting it up. You might need to raise the height of the nut slightly if it was really close to the surface of the fretboard before; I did this by cutting a small piece of cardboard and placing it underneath the nut to raise it slightly. There are some that would argue that this technique would decrease the sustain of the instrument and, if you actually buy into that crap, then feel free to just buy a new nut made of fossilised angel shit or whatever they are saying gives you the best sound at the moment, and cut it to the right height.

Tune up and check the neck for buzzy spots, if you find one then get the light sandpaper and the sanding block and do some more levelling on the fretboard under the affected string. Once it's all playing smoothly get your groove on and play until your fingers hurt.

-Ben

Monday, May 21, 2007

Cutty Sark

What? Nooo!

well that sucks, apparently only about half the ship was there because it's been dismantled for repairs and it not completely unrepairable but still, it is far from good, the cutty sark is too much of a landmark to lose. I remember going on it with my grandparents when I was a kid, I still remember the figureheads in the hold and the way that the whole place smelled like my great grandfather's sea chest.

And apparently it was started on purpose, which, I'm sad to say, being from that area myself, surprises me about as much as a dog pissing on a tree; but still, it does wear away a little bit more of my frayed respect for humanity as a whole.

Mind you, it's now been featured on the national news, its lack of funding has been showcased to the world media in the context of a 'terrible tragedy' - this could well mean that they get much more money than they had to renovate it before, probably enough to more than offset the damage done by the fire, if they play their cards right.

I hope so anyway. I like the Cutty Sark, and it'd be nice to see it all shiny and new, rather than slowly corroding like it has been for the duration of my living memory.

-Ben

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Guitar Shielding

I wrote this for my own benefit (hence the rather patronising tone - I don't have a very high opinion of my own intelligence) but I figured I may as well put it up on here, seeing as it might be of interest to someone somewhere, if only as corroboration of the effectiveness of this method as written up by others in more detail than me.


Things Needed:

1 Tube of Contact cement

A large pack of disposable gloves (they get sticky and you have to change them periodically)

Shielding Foil or Kitchen foil (the thick stuff for preference)

1 Roll painters tape (masking tape will do)

1 Sharp knife

1 Pointy Biro

Methodology

If you are shielding pickup cavities which aren’t covered by a pickguard then use the masking tape to cover the surface of the instrument around the edges of the cavities. If you are shielding a control cavity covered by a metal plate on the front of an instrument (like a stingray or a telecaster) then mask the body around the control plate before you take it off. This is important as it prevents you getting glue and foil stuck anywhere visible.

Unscrew and desolder everything (and I mean everything, even the bridge - leave the neck on if you want though, and the strap buttons - they don’t really have anything to do with this) - you’ll need all the cavities clear of wires and objects that will get in the way – if you aren’t replacing the wiring as well then try, as far as is possible, to keep the pots, jack, and capacitors wired together when you take them out of the body (it’ll save time later) only desolder the bridge ground and pickup wires.

Once everything is out of the cavities lightly sand and then clean them as well as you can, try and make the surfaces as smooth and clean as possible.

Cut strips of foil to whatever width seems appropriate for the cavities you are dealing with, make sure that you have a good number of them ready before you start messing around with the glue otherwise you’ll have to cut them whilst all sticky.

You’ll want to do this next part either outside or somewhere fairly well ventilated - it won’t kill you to do it inside, but it will make you feel kinda woozy by the end of the job.

Put on the gloves (you really can’t do this job without them, I tried - it went horribly wrong and the skin on my fingers went all manky) and wrap your glue spreading finger inside something like a plastic bag or some paper and start spreading the glue evenly over the inside of the cavities, try and avoid getting any in screw holes.

Use the same technique to cover one side of a few of the foil strips. Pause for a minute or two to allow the glue to get its sticky on (the longer you wait, the stickier it gets – better for neatly plonking it on, but if you do it earlier you can slide the foil around to get it into the right place) then, without the bits of bag (or old gloves, or paper, or whatever you chose to use) on your fingers, start sticking in the foil, trying to get as little glue on your fingertips as possible. Ignore screw holes, wiring channels, holes for potentiometers etc - you can poke those holes through with a pen or something later on (if you can find them, try and remember roughly where they were - you can feel for them though if you forget).

This part is very boring and time consuming – just get comfy and sit around sticking the strips into the cavities until the whole cavity is covered with as few gaps as you can possibly manage. Change your gloves whenever the gloves become stickier than the surfaces you are trying to stick the foil to. Listen to some music by all means, but don’t watch TV, you need to be looking intently at what you are doing the whole time. You’ll want to take breaks from this every now and then, as your eyes will get tired focusing intently on the work and your brain will get confused by the fumes.

If you are putting foil into a control cavity with a plastic backing plate then try and get the foil to overlap the edges of the cavity into the bevelled (or countersunk, or chamfered, I have no idea what to call it – I’m not a carpenter) part under where the cover would be, complete the shielding of this cavity by covering the inside of the cover plate with foil so that it touches the parts on the bevelled section.

Once you have finished lining the cavities give yourself a manly handshake in appreciation of a job well done and go off for a while to get some fresh air and make the glue induced hallucinations go away. If you have been shielding cavities not covered by a pickguard or by a metal control plate then come back after about half an hour (after the glue has set fairly well) and cut around the inside edge of the masked part with a very sharp knife (very sharp!) and peel off the tape, taking the excess foil (and, as long as you've cut the edges properly, only the excess foil)

Now part one is done - I would write how to do the next part (wiring all the different sections of shielding foil to ground) but I’ve not actually done that bit yet.


-Ben

Monday, May 14, 2007

More Lists

In my last post I talked about lists and how they generally reflect a mixture of what people like and what they want people to think they like, this post is more along similar lines. Whilst thinking about the way that people look to someone's favourite things as an indication of what sort of a person they are it occurred to me that if I quickly wrote down the first five things that came into my head in various categories I'd probably end up with an interesting insight into what sort of a person I am. I only managed to write to before I started thinking ahead of myself and trying to chose ones that made me look all sexy and intelligent, but these two lists are both as unaffected as I can manage.

I think it'd probably be reading too much into it to say that they are in order of preference, but it might be the case, I'm not sure.

Favourite Poems

1. The Young Housewife - William Carlos Williams
2. The Snow Man - Wallace Stevens
3. Under Milk Wood - Dylan Thomas (I'm not sure if this really counts as a poem)
4. The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock - T S Eliot
5. Ode to a Nightingale - John Keats


Favourite Short Stories

1. Babylon Revisited - F Scott Fitzgerald
2. The Disc - Jorge Luis Borges
3. Sonny's Blues - James Baldwin
4. The Dead - James Joyce
5. The Other - Jorge Luis Borges

The reason for the slightly unorthodox categories is probably something to do with the fact that I've been reading huge amounts of modernist poetry and short stories this term.

With the poetry it's all pretty strange stuff, number 5 is the meditations of a man contemplating and coming to terms with the inevitability of his imminent death, number 4 is a man contemplating the seeming inevitability of his decline into mediocrity, number 2 is a weird metaphyiscal pondering which I probably only like that much because I'm impressed that I can understand it, and 1 and 3 are wonderfully tactile poems that I love for no reason I can articulate very well. As to what they say about me, well, they tell you that I don't like old poems, Keats' being the only one not written in the 20th Century, I'm sure that signifies something about me, although I have no idea what.

With the short stories it's a bit different; I read a lot of short stories, much more than I read poetry - I read short stories of my own volition all the time. Most of these stories are examples, fairly arbitrarily chosen, of the work of my favourite writers. I wouldn't say that I'm a huge fan of F Scott Fitzgerald's stuff on the whole, but that story is so incredibly well observed and composed that it deserves that spot. The two Borges stories are probably, combined, about 5 pages long and are little gems of mini narrative. 'Sonny's Blues' - along with 'Previous Condition' and 'This morning, this evening, so soon' - is probably my favourite story discovered over the course of my studies this year. And 'The Dead', well, it's Joyce before he dissapeared up his own arse, and few can beat that. The fact that I put two Borges stories on there probably means that I'm anxious to show that I do read texts that aren't required reading for one of my courses.

On the whole I think it makes me look kinda pretentious, which is hardly surprising, because I am, especially when it comes to books.

-Ben

lists

We for some reason live in a society bounded and defined by lists and tables, sets of statistics which show the prevalence of, or popularity of, this, that, or the other. It's always interesting, I find, to see the results of large scale polls of people's opinions on the value of works of art, people or things - because whilst one person generally will not give a true ranking of their favourite things*, if you take an average opinion of a large group of people you generally end up with a result which is either an accurate repesentation of people's opinions or a fascinating hint as to the shared aspirations and affectations of the polled group.

The thing that started me on this train of thought was some of the new features on facebook - specifically the group statistics. These are a selection of top ten lists based on the books, bands, films, TV Shows and interests which appear most frequently in people's favourite things lists and they are quite interesting to read. I'll reproduce the lists for the university of Kent group here:

Top Music

1. Muse
2. The Killers
3. Snow Patrol
4. Oasis
5. Razorlight
6. The Kooks
7. Coldplay
8. Foo Fighters
9. Radiohead
10. U2

People are generally rather more confident about what they like and dislike when it comes to music than they are with other things - This list doesn't really tell you anything other than show you dazzlingly broad spectrum of student musical tastes, covering the full range of middle class white folk music, from 'hipper than thou' to 'super-ultra-bland'.

Top Movies

1. Pulp Fiction
2. Fight Club
3. Gladiator
4. Shawshank Redemption
5. Snatch
6. Goodfellas
7. Anchorman
8. Dirty Dancing
9. Lord Of The Rings
10. Donnie Darko

does anyone understand donnie darko, really? And why are university students so obsessed with very violent films like 1,2,3,5, and 6? is it because they don't often hurt people in real life so they like to do it vicariously whilst pretending to be a gangster?

Top TV

1. Scrubs
2. Family Guy
3. Friends
4. Lost
5. Desperate Housewives
6. Simpsons
7. Prison Break
8. Hollyoaks
9. Futurama
10. 24

It's kinda depressing that all but one of the shows on here is a high budget american studio effort, and the one english production is a godawful soap opera.

Top Interests

1. Music
2. Reading
3. Travelling
4. Football
5. Drinking
6. Shopping
7. Dancing
8. Art
9. Sleeping
10. Films

I'm pretty sure that no. 7 means 'getting twatted at the venue and twitching about the dancefloor until I'm carried home' and no. 3 means 'I went on a gap year... did I mention that I went on a gap year? I went on a gap year you know.'

Top Books

1. 1984
2. Harry Potter
3. Lord Of The Rings
4. The Da Vinci Code
5. To Kill A Mockingbird*
6. Birdsong*
7. Pride And Prejudice
8. Memoirs Of A Geisha
9. Catcher In The Rye*
10. Lord Of The Flies*

I've only read seven of these, no.s 4, 7 and 8 being the exceptions (and I've never finished 3 - it's too boring.) I think 1984 is probably top because it's well known and shows that you think about like, political things, and stuff. The starred ones are common set texts at either A level or GCSE.

I'd be curious to see what the results are for other groups, other demographics etc, to see how different segments of life, even different universities differ. And what they say about the group in question in relation to other groups.

I was also going to mention the lists I quickly wrote down when I was supposed to be revising, but that seems like too much of a tangent now. I'll write about that at some other point.

-Ben

* Yes, the footnotes are back - this one was too big to leave in the body text and I couldn't be bothered to rearrange the sentence structure to incorporate it properly, because I'm lazy like that, anyway, the footnote - They will, to some degree, give a selection of their favourite things, but it is one tailored to impress or create an impression on the person they are being asked by - it may not be a conscious thing, but people do it nonetheless. Now that you've read this you'll probably completely lose track of the meaning of the sentence you were reading. sorry.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Richard Littlejohn

Americans will not know who this guy is but suffice to say that he is essentially a british equivalent of Rush limbaugh - a reactionary bigoted wazzock who is for some reason given a column in a national newspaper. Anyway, I'm not going to bother ranting about him here, I just thought I'd link this page

These reviews are, it has to be stated - entirely ironic and made me laugh until I nearly peed. I especially like this one:

"Some have labelled Littlejohn a crass, reactionary, vicious-minded little bigot. In this, his magnum opus, he takes these feeble accusations by the throat and shakes them around like a yorkshire terrier with a small dog toy. Probably a dog toy in the shape of a golliwog.

In his quest to uproot the insidious weed of political correctness, he strides across the rhetorical spectrum from delicately constructed hysterical ranting, all the way through to elegant and waspish carping on and on about nothing of any significance. He leaps with the ease of a ballerina from one lazy disingenuity to another, flouncing his little tutu with the carefree flirtation of a batty boy in a badly broken metaphor.

If Kylie Minogue's perfect posterior could be rendered in prose, then this book would be that prose. Only when she turned around, she'd probably have a penis like that girl in The Crying Game. You know? Ewwww. Eh?"


-Ben

I'm drunk. heh. I've also finished my exams. that's probably more worthy of mention - I'll write about it tomorrow.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

The Insert Key

I was browsing my normal morning's crop of blogs and webcomics today, and came across a link to this -

How to Disable the Insert Key in Word

It's always encouraging to find that other people have the same problems and annoyances as yourself, and I must admit that this solution, whilst more complicated than the one I came up with, certainly has slightly more elegance.

Here's my alternative method for disabling the insert keys, it involves prying out the offending keys with a flathead screwdriver:



Like I said, not very elegant. Mind you, seeing as nothing about my life is elegant I think my method suits me just fine. As you see I also removed the # key because I kept hitting it when I meant to press shift (the first modification I made), the left windows key and the right click key are gone because if you hit them by accident when running a full screen application it pulls you out into the desktop, and I not only removed but subsequently destroyed the caps-lock because THERE@S NOTHING WORSE THAN ACCIDENTALLY WRITING A SENTENCE IN FULL CAPS.

-Ben

...and if you are wondering how I managed to do the # symbol without actually having the key anymore - I just poke the switch inside with a screwdriver (it's the first time I've had any reason to ever press that key on purpose)

... and yes, this would all be uneccessary if I had A: the ability to touch type properly and B: smaller, less sausage-like fingers