Music I listened to on 9th July 2013
Harkive is a project that wants to find out how and why people listen to music – and how the devices, technologies, formats, services and time available combine to create a personal listening experience. To do this, Harkive asked music fans to document their listening habits on 9 July 2013 and publish the results online through blogs, photos, tweets and so on. Harkive plan to analyse the results and repeat the event each year to map how listening habits change over time. Harkive is run by mate Craig, and this intro was cribbed from Gavin so I didn’t have to write it.
This was not going to be a typical day, I was on holiday in Croatia. So, instead of the DAB radio in the car and possibly Radio 6 in the office online…until Steve Lamacq comes on to bore with his insipid ‘text-ins’ (“Have you ever been late to a gig?”—”Here’s a good one from Dave from Derby…’I was once going to a gig by Slowdrive, and I was late.’…nice one Dave”) or Spotify (very rarely) or whatever I’ve got knocking around on CD or vinyl (more likely), it was just whatever music that other people played to me.
I’m reading Electric Eden, a fantastic book by Rob Young about the way folk music has evolved in Britain over the last hundred years or so. But with none of the music it’s making me want to hear (The Watersons, Fairport, Vaughan Williams) on my iPad or phone and with no internet connection I’m mainly hearing the songs in my head. This now has me wondering just how much music we ‘listen’ to is purely in our minds. If I’m reminded of a track I love I usually feel like I’ve just listened to it. There’s also the half-formed singing we all do without thinking about it. My other half has been going “Quo Vardis” to the tune of Dino’s Volare! ever since we saw a yacht in the harbour of that name. I’ve been playing that over too, with my incorrect phonetic lyrics.
The first recorded music I actually recall hearing is folk of a kind, but not English. We dropped into a museum that was directly under our holiday flat, one that documented the history of a local type of boat—the batana. At the rear of this small museum we stood and listened to some beautiful sea shanties (you can hear a flavour on this video). We’d have found out more and bought some if there were any available, but the museum text was in Croatian and Italian (we got the jist, just) and the woman behind the counter remained on her mobile for the entire of the time we were trying to attract her attention.
Later, walking down the high street I catch a whiff of a do-over of The Girl is Mine that expunges Macca for an characterless half rap (probably this piece of trash). We avoid this vile place, but end up in another bar that has speakers and no taste.
The next day we’re going on a trip to Venice, so I should have been using bar wifi to get maps and to discover a way to experience a city that isn’t squashed onto a vaporetto clicking furiously at the sights, hemmed in by people in Simpsons T-shirts. But I don’t, I tweet #harkive and sip prosecco.
I ignore so successfully the booming background euro-house the place is playing that I couldn’t record it I tried.