Ah, yes, that Eurovision thingy that took place a couple of months ago, yet I never got around to writing a piece after the event. Might as well write a few brief words for closure's sake, even if it has long since passed and I've forgotten most of it...mind you, I was a bit Euro-crazy this year, posting my comments and views of this year's Contest all over Facebook (yes, I gave in last year) -- sometimes in statuses of certain friends-of-friends of mine, who I had never met and were incredibly puzzled by my extended essays of responses, written by a complete stranger to them and, accordingly, I was met with "Who the hell are you?" :S Don't mind me, folks, I do tend to lose my sanity that time of the year...Eurovision does that sort of thing to you.

For all of your sakes, I won't repeat what I had written all over Mr. Zuckerberg's book of faces -- I'll just summarise my thoughts, for what they are worth:

- Really happy that Lena from Germany won it. Wasn't she cute the way she accepted her trophy, remember, the humility, the giggles? Really happy, because this is the first time the FRG have won it since 1982, the first time they've won it as a unified country, the first time in donkey's years that the Contest will be staged in Western-friggin'-Europe (1998, UK, I think was the last time), it's a victory by a Big Four country who have been accused of their apathy towards the Contest owing to their 'untouchable' status -- this should shut them up -- and also am glad that the "favourites" Azerbaijan didn't win it -- it wasn't that great a song.

- Now that Terry Wogan's abandoned his post, it's great that SBS have, for the second year in a row, sent their own commentary team to the Contest. As fine a job as Julia and Sam did this year (and last year), they simply do not hold a candle to the god-like Des Mangan's efforts in 2004 in Istanbul. I truly believe he possessed both a similar cynical edge as Wogan in his commentary and he provided a much-needed Australian perspective to the proceedings. Can you get any better than this? Des for ESC 2011!

That is all.

Tom

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3g
July 27, 2010 at 00:20:23
Categories: poetry

On the one hand

On the other hand

On the gripping hand

What now?

Last updated: July 27, 2010 at 00:41:02

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People always say 'Tom, this has gone too far!'
May 23, 2010 at 02:50:56
Categories: music

A number of you that know me probably know that I've been watching the Eurovision Song Contest for pretty much all of my natural life. SBS-TV here have been screening a delayed broadcast of that infamous Contest where kitsch is king [1] since 1983 and ever since then, my family and I have been cheering on Yugoslavia [2] and (when that country disintegrated into seven million pieces) Croatia. So you could say that I've been a long-time fan of Eurovision.

What most of you probably don't know is that, ever since 2008, I have been listening to each of the finalists' songs from each of the forty-odd countries that now participate each year [3], so that I could familiarise myself with the songs well before the actual finals take place and so I could have a crack at trying to gauge who the winner might potentially be. After all, most people in Europe have already heard the songs long before the Contest and hence have some idea as to who will win, especially if an entrant has been heavily promoted beforehand [4]. Also, despite what people say about the predictability of the voting patterns each year (if the Greeks don't give "douze points" to the Cypriot entry and vice versa, then Benedict XVI is not Catholic), you can never be sure of who is going to win each year [5]. Unlike Terry Wogan, I haven't lost faith. I live in (naive) hope that, amongst the chaff, there will be three minutes of (comparative) musical heaven, so the Contest still holds my interest to this day.

This year, however, I've done two things differently. Firstly, I refused to listen to each song following the announcement of each country's "Song for Europe" [6] until I had collected all of them, so that I could listen to them for the first time in one sitting, in order to make choosing my favourite(s) fairer. Secondly, just a few days before the scheduled start of the Contest on Tuesday the 25th of May, I went through each of this year's songs, made a few comments on them, and published them online for you to read ;)

What to make of this year's 39 entries, or just over two hours worth of music, if played back-to-back, which is significantly less than the eight-or-so hours in total of the three nights of the Contest that features, in addition to the on-stage performances of the songs, "postcards", interval acts, forced, awkward banter between the invariably male and female presenters whose first language is neither English nor French (that is charming in its own way) and, of course, the voting. Well, to tell you the truth, after listening to all of the songs several times, no one entry really stands out for me. No surprises, but that's what you get when you aim for middle-of-the-road, as is the case for most Eurovision entries most years.

There are, of course, a few songs that I like:

• Eva Rivas' "Apricot Stone" has a nice ethnic flavour and an incredibly catchy hook for a chorus and the song is really about Rivas' homeland, since the apricot is the Armenian national fruit.
• Belgium's Tom Dice and his gentle ballad "Me and My Guitar", which probably won't make it to the final (shame), is all about following your dreams despite the odds.
• I like the quirkiness of Germany's entry (good to see a Big Four country is trying) and Lena Meyer-Landrut's distinct enunciation in her song "Satellite" -- she's amongst the bookie's favourites and a better chance than Azerbaijan in my opinion (see below).
• Now, Denmark. Before I had even heard a single note of Chanee and N'Evergreen's song "In a Moment Like This" I knew exactly how the chorus would sound. Then, as I was listening to the song, surprised that I managed to predict the chorus, I said to myself "Key change at the end. Big finish. Definitely." and lo and behold there was a key change! For its utter predictability, I love this song. It doesn't stand a chance in hell, though.
• Kuunkuiskaajat add some much-needed traditional folk culture amongst the overwhelming sea of pop and schlager with their upbeat ditty "Tyolki ellaa" (One lives by working). Unfortunately, since Finnish is a weird language completely unrelated to most other European languages (it's not even classified as "European"), it too doesn't stand a chance. Maybe it'll get to the final as a jury-selected wildcard entry if it's lucky.
• The French are also another Big Four nation trying this year, by capitalising on the FIFA World Cup taking place next month with Jessy Matador's soccer anthem "Allez! Ola! Ole!. Will their gamble pay off or will Europe see through their blatant exploitation of a song and award it "nul points"?
• InCulto's ska-esque song "Eastern European Funk" is quite a hidden gem. If you've resisted the urge to "get up and dance" as the chorus suggests, you might've noticed the politically-charged lyrics. Lithuania might very well have joined the EU in 2004, yet -- according to InCulto -- are still being treated as "second class citizens". It'll be in the final, not because of the lyrics, though.
• Slovenia's entry, Zlindra and Kalamari and their song "Narodnozabavni Rock" (People's Celebratory Rock, or simply (and less literally) Folk Rock) seems to me like an attempt at recreating a typical Yugoslav entry from the 80s. It's friggin' awful - it won't win - yet I like its kitschiness and that's what Eurovision's all about, isn't it?

As for songs that I don't particularly like:

• I know that - as someone of a Croatian background - I am "supposed" to both like and support "my country's" entry, regardless of its or the performers' musical or artistic merit. To act otherwise would be treason, yet I can't, for the life of me, bring myself to like Feminnem's "Lako Je Sve" (Everything's Easy). It just doesn't grab me by the balls, I'm sorry.
• Oh, and Mr. Har'el Ska'at from Israel? Nice song there about words (hence the title "Milim"). Too bad it depresses me. No song in a predominantly minor key (i.e. the "depressing key") has ever won - or ever will win - Eurovision. Well, at least you're not singing about "the conflict" unlike last year...and two years before that...
• Netherlands - just as awful this year as last year. Nothing else to say.
• Serbia - your turbofolk is getting tiresome and - no offence - but "Ovo Je Balkan" (These are the Balkans) is a lame title. No, I'm not having a go at you because of my background - most of us have moved on from "all that". I actually liked your song last year. Too bad it didn't qualify for the final.
• And finally, the United Kingdom. You blow me away last year with an Andrew Lloyd-Webber composed piece and a sublime performance by Jade Ewen, filling me with hope that maybe - just maybe - you actually want to host Eurovision again like you did in the olden days many times. You redeemed yourself in my eyes. I was proud of you. Then you go and disappoint me this year with....this piece of garbage. Josh Dubovie claims "That Sounds Good To Me". Well, to put it as politely as possibly (because I want to 'keep it PG') your song "sounds abominably horrible to me"! Nul points for you, sir.

Apparently, for some bizarre reason, the favourite at the time of writing with the bookies is Safura's "Drip Drop" (Azerbaijan). It's not a terrible song by any means - definitely one of the better ones - but it doesn't really do much for me. Besides, I just can't imagine the contest being held in Baku next year. Then again, I was surprised when Sertab Erener won it in 2003 and it was quite a mind-blowing experience getting used to the notion that the Contest would be held in Turkey (of all places!) for the first time in 2004, so you never know...Sweden's entry "This is my life" by Anna Bergendahl will probably do well, yet it's another song that does little for me.

...and the rest I'm rather indifferent to, as they haven't really grabbed my attention in any way. I neither like them nor dislike them. I'd be well surprised if they make it past the semi-final stage.

So...who's gonna win? I dunno. I'm no clairvoyant, astrologer, bookmaker or actuary [7]. All I've done was tell you which songs I like and which ones I don't and perhaps suggest which songs have a chance of winning or coming close. Take from that what you will. Put a few bets on my favourites, if you like (if it's legal in your country). The only thing I can predict with great certainty is my whereabouts next Friday, Saturday and Sunday evenings -- on the couch, watching Eurovision, enjoying the "best" vocal talent Europe has to offer. Join me!

Tom

I've gone back to footnotes -- it's the only way for me...

[1] and other smart-arsed remarks we've all heard before since no-one has been able to come up with a unique way to disparage Eurovision since nineteen-dickety-seven (I say "dickety", because the Kaiser stole our word "twenty" - Simpsons joke ;)

[2] the ONLY communist country to have regularly participated in Eurovision. Early on in the picture, Tito told Stalin to get stuffed (one of the few people brave enough to do that), so his little "communist paradise" refused to hide behind the Iron Curtain and consequently had many dealings with Western Europe -- trade, tourism, televised song contests -- you name it.

[3] oh, to return to the days when there were just twenty (dickety!) or so countries participating and the Contest ran for one night only. Simpler times. Then both an actual and a metaphorical wall fell...madness ensued.

[4] e.g. the winner of ESC 2005, Greece's Elena Paparizou, who might very well have been pleasing to mine eye, but I was most underwhelmed by her song "My Number One". I really wanted Norway's Wig Wam and their Bon Jovi-inspired number "In My Dreams" to win. Alas, it wasn't to be...

[5] e.g. Lordi's "Hard Rock Hallelujah" was about as un-Eurovision as you could get. It was a breath of fresh air the Contest needed and, deservedly, the Contest took place in Finland for the first time in 2007.

[6] all the songs are chosen in many and varied ways by each country, be it via a national contest similar to ESC or by internal selection by the national public broadcaster -- none of which are chosen at the exact same time, but most are chosen by mid-March.

[7] professional prediction-makers from biggest bullshit artists to smallest, left to right.

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I believe in miracles, you sexy thing!
May 14, 2010 at 22:28:13
Categories: drink comedy

As this unseasonably warm autumn is making its way for the blistering cold of winter - although I'm fortunate enough to live in what is supposedly a sub-tropical area, so I don't know the "true meaning of 'cold'" (it last snowed here in 1836, apparently) and twenty-degree days in winter are not uncommon in Sydney anyway...and once again, I digress and fail at writing a focused piece...life is so detailed; you want to record everything in minute detail, but you can't. Basically, I'm a modern-day Tristram Shandy. No, I've not read the novel -- just skimmed through it (I daresay most people that have tried to read it give up, due to its overtly tangential nature and possibly impenetrable 18th century English), although I have watched the film A Cock and Bull Story, which is a mockumentary on the filming of the "unfilmable novel" and stars my long-time comedy hero Steve Coogan...I'm surprised I didn't tell all of you about the time Coogan did his first series of live stage shows in Australia last year and how my cousin and I went to see him at the Enmore Theatre. Like, hello, this is blogworthy material but I couldn't be bothered writing about it at the time! What gives? In short, it was a fulfillment of a nine-year long dream; that's how long I'd been a fan of his (now, it's ten years ;). The first half was a bit of a disappointment with his Pauline Calf, Paul Calf and Tony Ferrino characters, as he was just mostly rehashing his previous work and, much to the chagrin of everyone around me, I was reciting each line before he said it -- awesome, though, as it was that I was in the same friggin' room as Steve Coogan! Also disappointed to learn that he stripped down the show in adapting it for his Australian tour; the tour book that I bought at the performance suggests that Coogan's "new" character pest-controller/roadie Tommy Saxondale appeared in the original UK tour, but was replaced with Ferrino for the Australian tour. Shame, really. Would've wanted to see some more fresh, new material. Second half was much better, devoted mostly to Alan Partridge. It was a reworking of his earlier "Lessons in Life Management" sketch, although a great deal of it was original and you could tell the audience as a whole enjoyed it quite a fair bit. Shame he couldnt've put more effort into his other characters. Plus I would've prefered it if he didn't replace "Tesco's" with "Coles" and "Alan Titchmarsh" with "Don Burke", etc. -- I know Coogan's trying to make his characters more accessible to the Australian audience, but it just sounds incongruous, alienating and impure; besides, I'm sure most people in the audience that night were British ex-pats anyhow, since nobody in Australia has ever heard of Coogan. The bawdy song-and-dance number at the end where he appears at the end, out of costume, as "himself" -- or at least a caricature of his public persona -- was friggin' awesome, in which he suggests that "everyone's a bit of a 'rhymes with "hunt"' sometimes", especially himself. Overall, only just worth the modest entry fee. Hope he comes back with a bigger and better show....and I know I could just place my tangents in footnotes, as I've done in previous posts, but I wish to become a more disciplined, focused writer and keep them to a minimum; avoid them, if possible. Let's start again, this time without the digression!

--

As this unseasonably warm autumn is making its way for the blistering cold of winter, the men don their jackets, the young, nubile women their skin-tight leggings (oh, yes :) and a marked shift in preference for warm beverages over cold takes place.

For a lot of people, the warm beverage of choice is hot chocolate, i.e. cocoa powder dissolved in hot milk. Even I - a dedicated coffee drinker - like to indulge in a little hot chocolate from time to time. As I was working on this piece, I was sipping a cup of microwaved milk and chocolate Nesquik. Nice, in its own way, and quick and easy to make, but - as I discovered some time ago - not a patch on the genuine article, because - let's face it - Nesquik is a cheap cop-out.

My first "true hot chocolate" experience as a child wasn't a pleasant one. My mother bought some Cadbury's Bournville Cocoa - I think - to bake a cake with, but she had some powder left over, so she tried to make some hot chocolate for myself (and presumably my older sister) by just dumping some powder into a mug and pouring in stove-boiled milk. It tasted terrible, to say the least. Certainly didn't taste like Cadbury chocolate, that's for sure. My mother - nice lady that she is - simply wasn't familiar with the correct method of making hot chocolate and neither were us silly kids, so I remained in ignorant, (Nes)Quik bliss for many years after that.

Flash forward to last year, when I decided to pay a visit to 't Winkeltje, a small shop selling Dutch groceries and furniture, located smack bang in the middle of the Smithfield industrial zone near my house, having heard about it from my Dutch cousin-in-law's mother. Stepping into that place is like travelling through space and time i.e. how I would imagine the Netherlands in the eighties to be like - it has to be seen to be believed. Along with the pea and rookwurst soup I had for lunch in the shop's cafe, I drank some Droste hot chocolate, the national hot chocolate of the Netherlands. Before leaving the shop with its wooden clogs, mussel pots and Sinterklaas chocolate letters, I decided to buy a packet of Droste powder (the one with the nurse on the box, holding a box of Droste, which has a nurse on that box, holding a box of Droste, etc...it's called "the Droste effect" - I'm not making this up), so that I could have some after dinner that night.

Somehow, somewhere, I managed to figure out the correct way to make hot chocolate and - let me tell you - the cup I had that night (and subsequent nights until I ran out of powder) was the best hot chocolate I had ever had! (yes, even better than Max Brenner) There are four basic things you need to know to make the perfect cup:

1. It has to be full cream milk. DO NOT skimp on this! Skim or fortified milk is unacceptable. You will not enjoy it as much. This is a treat, so forget about your diet or health regime for one night - geez!
2. Make sure your milk is warm. Warmer than luke, but not too hot so that it burns your tongue. At least my mum got this part right. Heat the milk in the microwave, if you like, but there's nothing like whisking the milk in a pot while bringing it to the boil, taking the pot off at boiling point. If you have a decent cappuccino steamer, even better!
3. Add some sugar to your cocoa powder. My mother didn't do this. Cocoa is naturally bitter and you need to take off the edge. Even if you like your drinking chocolate bitter, you still need at least a tiny bit of sugar. I will personally murder you if I find out that you've used artificial sweetener instead of sugar.
4. Most important of all - another thing my mum didn't do - dissolve the cocoa and sugar in a small splash of boiling hot water from the kettle before adding the hot milk. Stir well and serve.

Tom

Last updated: May 22, 2010 at 21:59:24

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A canner can can anything that he can
May 12, 2010 at 20:53:02
Categories: cans collections

Dedicated readers of this vanity press (if they exist) may recall this post where I made a whole bunch of promises regarding the various things I would talk about. So far, I've only come good on one subject - the yod numbers - some thirteen months after I said I'd talk about it. Now it's time to come good on the other subjects. The A/V/video tape/DVD collection can wait a while - I'm *still* not sure how I'm going to approach them.

Today, however, I will give an overview of my small, but still growing, collection of soft-drink cans. These cans take up some drawer space in my bedroom and - at any given time - I have ten cans on display on my bookshelf, which I rotate every now and again, as you can see here:

An odd way to decorate an otherwise spartan bedroom, don't you think? I guess what motivated me to start putting my cans on display was to perhaps provide an outward demonstration of my personality to other people (also why I'm blogging in general, actually) -- I have been far too introverted for far too long. No-one really knows what I'm about. Also, if the day comes that I actually have friends over my house -- platonic, romantic or otherwise -- and we somehow end up in my bedroom, then the cans would provide an amusing talking point.

I've built up this eclectic collection of cans over several years, by visiting supermarkets, restaurants, convenience shops and candy stores all over town. Sydney's such a wonderfully cosmopolitan city -- you can buy foodstuffs from all over the world without leaving the country. This has enabled me to build up quite an interesting selection, as you can see.

Rather than just talk about all of my cans right here and now, I'm thinking that I could turn it into an ongoing series, perhaps talking about one or a couple of the cans at a time. What I'm still not entirely sure of is how to approach my reviews (which, of course, would entail a review - to the best of my recollection - of the drink itself). I could just do a straight review - talk about the can, talk about the drink, that sort of thing. Or I could be a little bit more creative and pretend that I've bought these cans on my travels around the world, and write a little back story for each of them. I could be just like Georges "Herge" Remi, creator of the Tintin comic series and do a bit of research before writing. I sympathise with Herge as, like him in his early days, I haven't been doing much travelling myself. Yes, I've been to many places around Australia, but I've only been overseas once -- and that was in 1987, which I don't remember. Circumstances have so far prevented me from doing much travelling, although I took the first tentative step towards changing this by getting my passport last year -- I can legally leave the country *right now*; I just have to find the means. As Herge's young, intrepid reporter for Belgian newspaper "Le Petit Vingtieme" Tintin got to bounce around from one exotic locale to another, while his creator had to remain in "boring old Brussels", so too my intrepid alter ego can sample all of the liquid delights in a metal cylinder the world has to offer. Or I could take on a more humourous approach and adopt an infantile, potty-mouth persona. I could be The Angry Soft-Drink Can Nerd! My parents would be appalled.

I'm not sure where I'll take this. We'll just have to wait and see ;)

Tom

Last updated: May 12, 2010 at 20:56:48

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