clivemurray.com

(No, not the TV series.)

In 1989 I started playing electric guitar, having finally convinced my parents that I was serious about it and having received my first guitar (a Maya strat copy) for Christmas 1988. When asked I always say that I started playing because of Mark Knopfler. I was a huge Dire Straits fan for years, and while I was also into Brian May and Eric Clapton at the same time, it was Mark Knopfler who made me actually want to get up on a stage and play in front of people.

Similarly, when I first got online in 1997, it was the work of Derek Powazek that made me want to build websites. I built my first homepages very much in the mould of whatever he was doing at the time, I read his self-effacing journals (there was no such thing as blogging at the time) and his bleedingly honest stories in his storytelling site Fray. I submitted stories to Fray, and I even started a site called Interpret which was also driven by reader submitted works, and which won cool site awards back in the days when they meant something.

Then yesterday I was at the first day of the Future of Web Apps conference, and Derek was presenting a talk with Heather Champ (of Flickr, among others). I watched these two elegant eloquent San-Francisco-ites (they’re married, by the way – also I suspect that Heather is Canadian in origin, from her accent, but that could be wrong) talk passionately on the subject of web (and other) communities and I knew I had to go and be a fanboy.

After the talk we were hanging out waiting for the next session and the two of them wandered by so I ran over and buttonholed Derek (I must apologise profusely for effectively blanking Heather – I was in dribbling fanboy mode), telling him a shortened version of the first two paragraphs of this rambling post. He looked pleased to have made such an impact and asked me my name, so I told him, and he said “Oh, I know you, Clive – I thought you looked familiar!” He remembered me from my Fray submissions, and a couple of other vague contacts back in the day, and seemed genuinely happy to have made a difference to me.

It might not mean that much to most of you who read this, but believe me when I say that made my fucking month.

Colour me smiley.
–c.

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Now playing: Whitesnake – Wings Of The Storm

To compensate for the titanic post of tedium most delirious wot I wrought yesterday, I bring you today Thirty Thousand Streets.

Oddly poignant and eminently readable short stories based on one young man’s experiences of moving to London. Only two instalments at this time, but as Shaw Taylor would have advised, keep ‘em peeled for more.

(Via Ade).
–c.

So, I’ve been replaced in Claytown Troupe, and the first I knew about it was by looking at the MySpace page today.

True, it’s been on the back burner for a year and a half now, but I still counted myself as a member of the band until today. The band went on hiatus around Christmas 2004 for the singer to go off and have a baby (his wife, not him… duh) and then he had some nasty heart operation complications which thankfully he seems to be over now.

True, also, that I had been busy with my other band, but I’d always quite looked forward to CT getting back on the road. The gigs we did were great fun and I got on well with all the members.

So last September I received an email from the singer to all members of the band. This is an excerpt:

All said and done, the band we rebuilt in 2004 is as close to my heart as is the LDL cholesterol, I’d love to have a rehearsal to see how it feels on the ticker, who wants to have a night, either at my work as we did last time or perhaps Bush studios as we treated ourselves to before Whitby.

Let me know if you’re in or out, if you feel the moment is gone I’ll understand, but if you’d like to get together I’d be extremely pleased.

- Christian Riou, 11/9/2006.

Here is the crux of my reply, dated 2 days later, again to the whole band:

Yep, I’m still in if everyone else is! My time’s a bit more busy at the moment what with having just changed jobs and stuff, so I can’t do this weekend – or the two weekends after that!!

But I’m in for it once we arrange something.

- Clive Murray, 13/9/2006.

Then today one of the best tracks we played came up on random and I thought to check out the site and see if anything has changed or moved on.

It seems I have moved on.

And this year (2007) there have been stirrings of more new material and possible shows with Christian teaming up with Ben Christo (current Sisters Of Mercy guitarist) for rehersals. Check the bands myspace site for further info.

Oh well. It was good while it lasted and it would have been nice to resume it. Even an email to say “Sorry man, we’ve got someone else in, hope you understand” would have been alright.

Still, I wish them luck.

–c.

Ah, you smokers. You make me laugh. Huddled round a Clipper lighter for warmth with a copy of the Mirror over your head, all bunched up outside the office corner with your victim mentality and your shield of carcinogens.

Here’s the truth: if you want to give up, you can, and will. It’s that simple. I did. Overnight, thanks. 8 years of 20-40 a day to zero, no weaning, no patches, no gum, no fucking inhalators.

Mind – I can hear you now. “Bloody sanctimonious ex-smokers, they’re the worst. Of course I want to give up, but I can’t.”

Bollocks. If you wanted to, you would. The fact of it is that you don’t want to. And here’s the best bit – if you’re one of the ones who actually has tried to give up, thinks that you’ve tried your best, really really “wants” to give up, but just can’t… then you are lying to yourself. And that is never a good thing.

You need to take a good hard look at why you smoke, and attempt to be honest with yourself about it. If you can manage that, you will probably either realise that deep down it’s because you just like it and enjoy it and hey, you’ll never get cancer because you’re special or it’s a long way off anyway – in which case admit to yourself that you do not want to quit – or you might find that you’re just doing it out of habit, which is the single lamest reason for doing anything.

Oh, and hey – if you’re not one of those people, then mother father kindly disregard this letter. People who don’t care a fuck about it I have no quibble with. Don’t get me wrong here, I have nothing against people who smoke. Honest. Now that you’re all barred from doing it in the pub, I don’t even have to go home stinking because of you. Puff away, dude. What I have a problem with is smokers who blow 30-100 quid a week on the things, and complain about it, saying they want to give up but can’t. Wrong. Deep down, you just don’t want to.

It’s them who make me laugh. Tell you what though – I’ll be laughing twice as hard come December.

–c.

I have an extremely good memory for names and faces. So good in fact that when I was at a conference recently, I saw a guy who I recognised and managed to work out that he was from my home town, and that his surname was Jones. He went to the same school as me when I was 10 or 11 or so, but in the year below me. I’d never even spoken to him, but still my brain managed to pull him out of the database. Of course, I naturally had to go and do the “Excuse me, are you originally from Eastbourne? Thought so.” bit. Freaked him out somewhat, as I knew it would.

So the other day I was watching “Silent Hill” on DVD, and thoroughly enjoying it. Then an actress came along who I knew I recognised, but could not for the life of me place where from. This continued to bug me throughout the film, so when it ended I looked her up in the credits. Turned out I didn’t know the name, so I figured I must have just seen her in something else, but still it irritated me that I couldn’t remember what.

Then on Monday night I was watching TV with Saffron, and we happened to watch an episode of the Amanda Redman/Dennis Waterman[1] series “New Tricks” and damn it if the same thing didn’t happen again. There was this actress who I knew I’d seen in something before, but couldn’t place where. Again it bugged me to the end of the show, but this time I didn’t even remember to look up her name.

Fast forward to lunchtime today when I remembered both these events, and realised that I had an intarweb to hand. Within 30 seconds I had the first one nailed – the actress from Silent Hill was Alice Krige, and I had previously seen her in “Star Trek: First Contact” in which she played the Borg Queen. Easy.

The second one proved harder to nail, but I eventually discovered that the part of Hannah in New Tricks, series 2, episode 5, was played by Georgina Rylance, who I had previously seen in “Poirot – The Mystery of the Blue Train“.

The internet’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?
–c.
[1] Yes, he does sing the theme tune.

…but exactly what is wrong with sending your child to a better school if you have the money to do so?

Please? Apparently it’s the most awful thing in the world, according to the media today. I fail to see the problem.

Caitlin, I’m with you.

–c.

What the FUCK is Russell Brand’s hair all about?

[[image:_42163286_brand_pa203b.jpg:fucking BADGER:inline:0]]

Fucksakes. I mean, I know about stones and glass houses, but fuck me. That’s just… it’s… it’s fucked, is what it is.

–c.

Thoughts and hopes go out to Richard Hammond of Top Gear. A great TV presenter and seemingly genuine nice bloke with a love of dangerous machines. Get your short arse well and back behind the wheel, Richard. That’ll show them.

On that subject, could there be a little less hand-wringing and blamestorming, please? Richard and his fellow presenters enter into the events they undertake willingly and in full cognisance of the risks they are exposing themselves to, I am sure. Yes, if there had been faulty equipment or lax safety procedures, then that needs identifying, I agree. But everyone standing around pointing fingers at the BBC and saying “Oooh, it was bound to happen, I told you so” really isn’t fucking helping anyone, now is it?

Whether Top Gear glorifies dangerous driving and speeding in everyday life is a different subject, and should not be piggybacked on the issue of what happened to the Hamster.

Anyway, get well soon Richard. Your Dodge Charger is missing you.
–c.