I'd forgotten that it even existed! It's obviously a whole load of my old Dailybooth photos, cut together, a second at a time.
Dailboothy was great - obviously, it presaged other photo-staging sites: without it, no Instagram, that's for sure. So, in the end, it was hugely influential. And, its influence lives on in sites like BeReal (which, similarly, I love)
And somewhat miserable, too.
Feeling harangued, and hectored. Doesn't really help me find the joy.
But hey ho. Ever onwards, and all that.
I don't think it's any real secret to say that I've struggled, a lot, recently. With Dad passing away, and the first US tour falling apart - all of it started to get to me.
But then 2024 was a really wonderful year. We did so much and achieved so many goals. Literally every single gig was a triumph., Every single show packed with happy people. But that didn't come without a lot of pressure. I've said before (on this very blog) that I've felt burdened, by the weight of expectation. It's not just my outlook - it's the hopes, dreams and expectations of everyone else. that extend outwards, from the other members of the band to the crowds, everyone in the venues, and everyone in supporting roles, in our orbit. I hate letting people down, so sometimes, that fear translates into a sense of dread about the future. A paralyzing anxiety that nothing will go as people hope it will.
Trying to break that cycle isn't easy. And if you get stuck deep inside, as I did at the end of the world tour, it's challenging to come up for air. There's such a wild swing of emotions, between those happy days on the road, and the stasis which follows.
So, heading off on the cruise was just what I needed. There was a serenity and a grace to looking out at the ocean; a real feeling of understanding my place. I wasn't expecting that, so it was doubly gratifying, to feel that peace coursing through me. It made me realise how far this journey has taken me, and it made me understand the highs, and the lows, a little bit better.
I'm really getting used to this life, on board. It's like a floating city, which seems fairly obvious - but there is one subtle difference that seems to be where the magic lies. In any normal city, you are surrounded by small levels of chaos: people bumping into you in the street or seeing someone who's angry or confused. Perhaps there's traffic, zooming around, and stepping off a pavement feels threatening. You normally factor all of these little deviations into your daily transit through life - but on a boat, they're not there. There's a unanimity of purpose, with everyone on a ship like this. Everyone is here to do much the same thing as you: have a great time. It's not a simple homogenous levelling of the playing field, there's still a huge range of people and outlooks - but it removes a lot of the stressors, without you even noticing. Life gets easier, more laid-back.
And today has been a very, very laid-back day. We got here (Cozumel) overnight, and slowly approached the dock, finally mooring at around 6.30 am. The boat spins on its axis to accomplish this - which was amazing to experience. After breakfast, we nipped into the port for a look around, but then left the boat again, just before noon, to hire a Taxi, crossing the Island in its entirety. Lunch was on the East shore, at Señor Iguanas where we ate wonderful Mexican food, drank cocktails, and laughed until our sides hurt. One of those days.
Back to the port for another drink, and back aboard, to tidy my room, and prepare for dinner. Might go and hang at the Lisa Loeb show tonight, and maybe - just maybe - try and catch up on the sleep I've missed.
Oh, my word.
I've just been looking out at the world. a pitch black night, a gently roiling sea. Tiny crests of waves, buffeted by warm breezes across the Gulf Of Mexico. Above me, there's these small wispy clouds, and above them - nothing but the inky sky, forever and ever. Tiny little groups of stars, hanging in the sky.
When we first started, as a band, I can remember heading to Spain, on our first-ever foreign trip. I was always so amazed that just a piece of music could lead so many people to be checked onto a plane. To be flown to another country. just for music. Just for a song.
And now, it's thirty-five years after I thought like that. And we're still doing this. And it feels just as powerful - but there's now more resonance. Back then, it was someone else's song. Now, I'm as much responsible as anything, or anyone else. I helped put all of us on this boat. I put myself on this boat. I did all of this. And it blows my mind.
First show of the Cruise
First Sunrise, from the Helipad
Well, jet lag hit me, like a freight train.
Had a lovely dinner, and finished around 7.15. Decided to try and nap for an hour - passed out almost instantly, and got exactly one hour of deep, jet-lagged sleep. At that point, I just knew I was exhausted, and that to try for any more might be a bad idea. But - I also thought - well, maybe just another five or ten minutes.
Massive mistake. Passed out for yet another hour. This time, the jet lag sleep was even deeper, even more like a fever dream. Woke up almost exactly sixty minutes later, now feeling like I was tripping.
On top of that, despite this laptop, and my watch telling me the correct time (we're on at 11pm), my phone had somehow transferred to another timezone and was now telling me the gig was in three minutes. As I was still in a strange, tripped-out state, It was tough trying to reconcile the fact that my watch was telling me one thing, and my phone another.
But - it is just an hour to go. Damn, that wasn't much fun. I'll now attempt to drag myself into the land of the living and do a gig.
So you can expect postings on the blog to be somewhat interrupted, I think. I have no idea what the internet policy or cost is, on the boat - but I'm guessing it'll be quite steep.
*Sigh*
but I'll try not to let it stop me. I've become rather accustomed to this little blog, again. Wouldn't like to be seen to be neglecting it, oh no.
Today then, is the last day before I head off across the globe, and I'm currently avoiding anything that looks like comprehensive packing an organisation. Instead, I'm blogging, and learning about Be-Bop Deluxe.
Never you change, Iain.
Time for some sleep - then, early breakfast, pack that case. Check, check again, and recheck all of the band stuff. Jump in a cab at 11. Off to Terminal 3, we leave around 3pm. More tomorrow, If (and only if) I can drag my sorry behind into a lounge)
On the software, for the next two shows.
I run NI Kontakt, and there have been a few minor issues since upgrading recently. Today, it was all about trying to merge instruments (or, .nki files) into a collection of different instruments, grouped together (basically, a set, for the band - this is known as a multi, or a .nkm)
The program wouldn't merge anything together and even kept shutting down. Turns out that the "merge when loading" option had been automatically deselected by the upgrade - I literally would never thought of checking. Anyway, one small tick in the box, and I'm all sorted. Phew!
I've been through the set and got the shopping done. I need to get a few things done before I'm away - getting clothes sorted is top of the list - and I need to book a cab.
But today, my work here is done. Time to think about the kid's tea.
But it's finally time to think about layering, about organising, about plotting which things I need to throw in that case. Which books will I need on the Kindle, and which audiobooks will I need on the phone? which Spotify playlists to download. I love diving down into the tiny little details of travel, the small things that make outsized differences to your comfort and your enjoyment of time away. It's time to think about those things, for a day or two.
But, since the last show of the world tour, and downtime over Xmas, it felt like time to get back in the studio once more. So, here we are.
And damn, it was great. After all of the hard work, and practising the songs at home, it was a relief to hear it all come together.
I was also back on the winter bike- the old Trek Domane. It's been such a faithful companion - and the bike that launched me into cycling properly. I've got a lot to thank it for. But there's no denying that it makes a perfect winter bike - the comfort, the Di2, the bombproof wheels, the second-tier groupset that I don't have to worry about, too much. Possibly the only drawback is rim brakes, but I'll be honest, the roads were wet and miserable today, and rim brakes weren't an issue, at all. I think that's possibly due to the Ksyrium Exalith wheels - the braking surface is as good as it gets, for a rim brake wheelset.
The rest of the day has been an archetypical Saturday: early run to Sainsbury's, cooking, tidying. The Archers, Oatcakes, mushrooms on toast for my lunch. A lovely day.
Finally feels like I'm getting to grips with the old songs - and here's what it looks like, to distill all of the information about a track, into a framework that makes sense, to me
It's like a map, really; a way to navigate the song, pointing out my movements, along the way.
I can still recall first joining the band, in October 1988. I went along to rehearse for the very first time and made just the same sort of map. A small piece of cardboard, folded in half. On it, instructions for at least six or seven songs. I think I used that bit of cardboard for at least the first couple of dozen shows. Balancing it on the left-hand side of the keyboard, I could subtly glance over, halfway through a song, and make sure I knew what was coming next.
I'm fairly sure that I'm a better musician and performer than I was, back then, but it's faintly reassuring to realise that my internal mapping process hasn't changed at all. I still have exactly the same approach, as I did. Very comforting.
With that breakthrough out of the way, it's also allowed me to open the window into personal logistics for the Cruise, next week. Up until now, I've just been preoccupied with the songs. That was front, and centre. Now I've reached the other side, my brain has shifted slightly, and I'm starting to think about the clothes I'll need. Shall I pack some trunks? Do I need flip-flops? Have I still got any sun cream? Shall I buy more toothpaste? All of the small, everyday things that seem like a grind, but in fact - hold the magic of travel. Bring it on. Time to plot.
Has been there for most of my life. It's me, and I've come to terms with it and learned to live with it, to ignore it, to block it out, and occasionally, to let it out. Most notably, it tends to emerge when I'm on stage. I've been lucky enough to have almost four decades, where I can stand on a stage, and regulate my emotions and my internal dialogue. It's a safety valve, I suppose, and I'm very thankful to have the privilege to be able to control what's inside.
sometime back in the 1980's, I also realised that it's the sort of force which can be harnessed to music: that's obvious, for something which I do onstage - but it's also apparent in my off-stage life too. I can put something like this, on - and be instantly aware that I'm channelling, and martialling my fears and anxieties.
And the Husker Du link has grown, over the years, to the point where listening to their records feels like being on stage, for me. And conversely, when I'm onstage, that's always the sort of thing which plays on my internal jukebox.
I'm off on the cruise in exactly a week, and I'll be sure to have the entire discography ready, and to hand at all times.
Really, I'm not.
And today, that's all come into focus, as I've been attempting to work out the parts for some of the old songs we're putting back into the set. The main problem for me is that I do almost everything on feel - on instinct. I rely on muscle memory and have to almost forget where I am, and what I'm doing before I can truly play properly.
It's never held me back before, and I always manage to get there in the end - but it's a frustrating and tiring slog, to get through it all.
Just been looking at ticket sales for the Bedford show, in March (come and see us!) and then also plotting what we'll be doing, later in the year. It's been. busy few days, but I do feel somewhat energised, which is a profound relief. The whole of Xmas and New Year was one long stressful journey into anxiety. I'm glad to see the back of that.
Tonight, there's still a lot to do - dinner for everyone (and Marnie is off doing Swimming Training, so the schedule is a bit fragmented) and maybe listening to the Archers, If I get the time.
I'm rather pleased with myself, as you can probably tell. So I'm off downstairs to listen to the rest of that Nada Surf album and make a curry for the kids.
Here's a story from the BBC, about how Facebook intended to crack down on celebrity ad scams. You'll know the sort of thing if you've spent any time on social media recently - oh, here's Joe Rogan, or Elon Musk, filmed in what looks like a podcast interview, talking about how they can make fortunes playing some sort of hokey app, or whatever. It's an AI voice-changing scam.
Well, I saw the same ads you did, knew it was all BS, and just thought I'd ignore it, as I was able to discern right, from wrong. But after a few weeks, I then thought - well, why the hell not? And decided to report some of them. It's not the sort of thing I normally do, because - who's got time for that, eh?
But - let's try.
I reported half a dozen instances. Same ad, the one with Joe Rogan, and Elon Musk. Very recognisable fake, 100% a scam. Reported it as a scam. "Celebrity impersonation". ticked all the boxes, as far as Facebook's complaint procedure goes. So far, so good. I sit back and wait. And today, I got half a dozen messages back from Facebook. They didn't remove the ads.
If something so blatant, so egregious won't even pass their censors, you have to ask yourself, if this is not a simple case of their automated scam protection systems failing - is it something more egregious? Because, to me, it looks like they know what's happening, and they'll make a show of pretending as if they care, but they don't. they don't give a shit about you, or me, or anything.
I'm starting to think that we're facing the death spiral of social media. Despite its huge influence (and initially, its massive potential), this wave of misinformation, distortion, lies and bullshit just can't continue. We need to return to a sense of our own independence, online. Our own domains, our own blogs, our own voices. We need to regain our personal digital sovereignty, and we need to do it before SM can wreak any more havoc.
Let's have a proper little life update, as opposed to me wallowing in my mild depression, shall we? I did manage to do a lot of rehearsing today, which was great. some of the new/old songs are quite complex, in their arrangement, as regards samples - plus, there's no muscle memory, as yet.
Muscle memory is perhaps the most important thing, with regard to what I do, when I'm on stage. I can let go, I can forget about almost everything else, and let the world drift over me and through me, But first, I need to have those songs almost fall out of my fingers, without a second thought. That doesn't just take time, it takes the ability to close the gap between the firing of the synapses. You have to be able to think about not thinking, to watch your muscles twitch and contract, as they dance across the keys. That's what I need to tap into, and it'll take a little more time.
Today has also been notable for the beginning of a new, regular Breakfast routine (something that regular readers of this blog will have come to recognise, is a crucial component of my day)
For the longest time, it was Soba noodles, then overnight oats. Now, I've gone even more simplistic. I've now taken to Oatcakes. four of them, with a quick smear of Marmite on each. Savoury, filling, quick and easy.
I do what's in front of me now. that seems like. a plan, doesn't it?
Well, that's what it used to be like. But now, it's just raving. Probably just as well.
Apart from that, it's been a cold, dank sort of a day. A January day that makes me long for April. Right now, that month feels like a long, long way in the distance.
I've been thinking about that decade, today.
Don't get me wrong, I love the 80s as much as the next person, but it does feel like people misunderstand all of the undercurrents of that long, weird decade. It's - well, all the usual suspects: Cocaine, glitz, vapid vacuity, greed and conspicuous consumption. It's jackets with huge shoulder pads - and that's the one that always sticks out (sic) for me: it's an abnormal silhouette of a decade.
But amongst all of the things we accept, and probably take for granted, I've spent the ensuing years marvelling at what was just under the surface. A sense that the world was fraying, spinning slightly off its axis. I know that I've referenced Philip Glass's "Koyaanisquatsi", and that's particularly apposite - "life out of balance", and the 80s really feel as though that internal gyroscope begins to teeter and sway.
One of the albums that has accompanied me, as 2025 gets underway is "Graceland" - how's that for a sign of the times, then? - and the frustrations and confusions contained in "The Boy In The Bubble" feel like they still call out, even as the days have turned into forty years. Sonically, the song has aged, but lyrically, it's right on point, for the crazy times we live in, now.
Anyway - let's assume the old one has done fifteen years. And I've replaced it, like-for-like, with another keyboard, to act as my backup, or spare. The good news: it's so cheap, to do this. A replacement is about £40, which seems like an absolute bargain.
Also, apologies for the room being in a state, I'll tidy it soon, I promise.
And here's a quick image, to show you that I'm not kidding about the views. Just a lovely view down the valley which falls away from Punchbowl Lane, to the south of Pixham. In the distance you can see the North Downs - Box Hill, where I would be cycling to. I love viewpoints like this, where the sky seems to weigh down on me, where the fields roll away, and the county stretches out so gracefully. I'm lucky to be where I am, to be able to do what I do. Views like this always make me grateful, for everything.
I do feel as though I should share this information - I've been listening to The Archers, recently. I love it. Doesn't just remind me of my youth - it reminds me of my time in the countryside, too. Win-win. But it feels a little strange committing time to a soap opera, that really hasn't happened for decades, in my life.
I am currently trying to devise a strategy where I can still listen to it, even if I can't get reliable internet on the boat (each episode is only about 30meg - they can almost be emailed!
But, tantalisingly, it does feel as though the weather will be good enough, tomorrow, to head out on the bike. At long last! It does feel as though this winter has gone on forever - both in a temporal sense, as well as a psychological one.
I'm the rat, emerging from the maze. Or something.
So today felt like things were going to happen. But not quite yet.
Walked around Ashtead again, this time up and around Shepherd's Walk (via Gray's Lane), and back along Rookery Hill, past the City Of London's Freemen's School. Lovely old building - and, Joe Strummer's alma mater, which never fails to make my spirit soar. I've also been busy with logistics and management stuff today: couple of potential festival nibbles, in the US, and offers for UK shows too. All of that and I'll be on a Cruise Ship in two weeks! I'll never stop being grateful for the band, and the opportunities it brings.
And another amazing day - so cold, but so clear. I strolled up part of Stane Street - the Ermyn Way, through Ashtead, and towards Cherkley Court. Pretty amazing to think that this part of Stane Street would have been in use almost a couple of thousand years ago.
At my school, literally, everyone wore them. I'd guess that around 75% of the boys had DMs. Cherry Red was a particular favourite - normally polished with black boot polish, so that, eventually, they'd end up the colour of a livid bruise. Proper 1970's hooligan style. I think I had a black pair, but what I do remember, is being obsessed with the look and the style of them, plus the way that a simple pair of boots afforded you entry to a wider group of your peers. Wear a pair, and belong.
I'll always recall seeing the outline of the boots, as I walked to and from school, the curve of the toe-piece, the geometric lines along the sides of the sole. The network of creases that formed, as they aged.
I can look down now, and I'm transported. It's a wonderful feeling.
I suspect I'll actually be out on the winter bike, or possibly the do-it-all Tarmac SL6 (it's disc brake, so a bit more friendly for those muddy, wet Surrey lanes) but this is the real joy of my life, when it comes to bikes. It's the absolute pinnacle of Rim Brake technology, and was built from the frame up, to be just that.
It's a 2023 Giant TCR Advanced SL0 frameset (the very last of their flagship rim brake frames) with full Dura-Ace 9100 (mechanical, natch), Roval CLX 50 wheels, Turbo Cotton 28mm tyres, and Fizik Cyrano R0 bars. It's got a Giant Carbon stem, plus a weight-weenie Selle San Marco Mantra saddle. Without pedals, it's a shade under 6.2kg, which is just insane. The damn thing actively wants to hammer up those hills, whether you want to, or not.
But I seem to have been listening to a lot of Emerson, Lake & Palmer, this week.
Truly, they were always a step too far, into the land of Prog, for me. But, I do really appreciate those rapid, and inexplicable swings in my taste, which lead me to delve into areas I've not previously anticipated. And overall - you know what? It's been a pleasant journey. Those "Works" collections seem completely self-indulgent, but the first few albums are great.
But yeah - what's next, Camel? Gentle Giant?Absolutely incredible article about the way that Social media is corroding our society. In essence, SM is bad for trust in Governments, Media, Institutions and people in general. So, if you have people who lose faith in governments, they lose trust in what that Government is saying. As we've always hoped, it's the Government's job to give us the normal, boring facts about everyday life . Jobs numbers, statistics, reports. And now, social media has made an entire generation distrust all of those facts. They just want to "do their own research". Facts are dull, and conspiracy is way more exciting. There's a visceral thrill to the sort of whacked-out nonsense that SM gives us. So, that's what people want. I thought Trump was a bug, but he's a feature, of the oncoming wave of idiocy, that'll wash over us all. As we sit and preen, with our performative social posts, about our favourite fabric conditioner, how we're working with brands, and how we can monetise AI to give us a side hustle.
That performative aspect of SM has been gnawing away at me, over the last few months. I've obviously been deep in SM, as the band has worked its hardest, throughout 2024. Honestly, I think that corrosive effect has been eating me alive. You end up in thrall to the cold, dead voice of social media, enslaved by the audience, working to stay afloat and alive.
What I always loved about a blog was its authentic voice. This is MY voice. the blog is me. I can watch as the letters I type coalesce into recognisable words and phrases. There's no gap, between thought and expression (thanks, Lou). I'm not a performing seal, I'm not attempting anything other than to make my way through my own life. I'm free of any outside pressure, other than my own shitty impulses.
At the moment, I'm contemplating changing, a little. Perhaps throttle back from Facebook, a bit. Save the more integrated posts about myself (longer ruminations on what I've been doing, the music I love, and so on) for here. Otherwise, I'm just harvesting likes and clout. I'm a performing monkey in a Zoo. And, on current evidence, it would seem that the Zoo is overrun with feral creatures, hellbent on eating each other alive. I'm determined to stop feeding the frenzy.
And a rather difficult one, if I'm truly honest. I don't mind telling you there were times when I felt unglued, unmoored, and totally lost. I do think I'm still struggling, in the wake of Dad's death. Plus *points down* that post down there? About the tyranny of expectation? That's been my biggest enemy. I've been singularly unable to vanquish that foe, and it's killing me.
Oh well.
But, back to the present. With an incoming Trump administration, and a couple of other things like the looming death of decent social media (Twitter is gone, Facebook is on life support, after Zuck got rid of Fact-checkers today) it's dark times, it really is. And it's got me thinking: should I just have a blog, as my outlet, for this urge to document things? After all, blogs are absolutely wonderful, in that regard. So, I could even go back to how this place once was - giving you a bit of a blow-by-blow on what I've been doing.
Would anyone care, or know, or respond? I have no answers.
But - here goes. I've been busy with new songs, today. Well, old songs, I should say. We're doing motion, Chemical, Tongue Tied and Righ Decision? Bloody hell, how's that for a blast from the past? They're subtly different, and that difference is still kicking my arse, a little. New things, to learn. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
