Hemingway once said that big things happen slowly at first, but then suddenly. Time itself has felt a little weird in recent weeks, a mix of slow and sudden that has felt more than a bit bananas.
Hard to believe that our city has been in some stage of restriction or lockdown for seven months now. Thankfully, daylight savings changes have bought us an extra hour of evening sunshine here in Melbourne, and as the days continue to lengthen I feel like we have finally returned to the stage where there are more hours of daylight than work in the average white collar WFH workday.
At a global level, I have been riveted to what seems like a spiralling finale to a very weird and drawn out American leadership story. The time zone difference between North America and Australia is such that the headlines come thick and fast in the middle of the night, which does not help the already disrupted sleep cycles and disorienting rhythms of pandemic lockdown life.
As befits the stretchy sense of time and timelessness we have felt these recent weeks, this mix starts off very slow before stepping through some of the deeper, more emotive tracks I have been listening to on repeat in recent weeks, along with a few timeless classics and some very groovy techno. It was recorded live as a therapeutic session in our locked down living room a few weeks ago. Wherever you are on the continuum between ‘time flies like an arrow’ and ‘fruit flies like a banana’, let these tunes bring you a bit of peace and perspective while we ride things out.
The first few days of spring have arrived here in Melbourne, and with it has come a sense of renewal and energy. The days are getting longer, minute by minute. Slowly but surely the weather is warming. The trees are starting to blossom. The birds are busily staking out their territory for the coming summer, while the city itself starts to slowly awaken and lockdown restrictions begin to relax.
When movement is restricted, it is easy to draw deep meaning and morals from the sorts of things that have perhaps always been going on but have never before been noticed. The sights and sounds of our neighbourhood, from the soap operas of the skies to the secluded alleyways we have passed many times and are only just now noticing, have in recent months amplified our senses, our empathy, and our connection to place.
More concretely, I have also taken the opportunity presented by our second lockdown to rebuild and upgrade my DJ booth. This mix is the first mix recorded with my new S4 MKIII controller. As always, it reflects the mood of the day. While you may not be able to hear the newly tidied wiring in the recording itself, the mise en place of a well configured booth is inspiring.
Melbourne is in to a Stage 4 lockdown as I write this. This includes the closure of all nonessential businesses, an evening curfew, a heavy police presence and serious penalties for being anywhere other than home without a valid reason. It seems to be making the news worldwide, based on the condolences and words of support that are coming through. There are pretty clear restrictions as to what we can do, and where we can do it. Limiting, yes, but also inspiring in a way because it gives us such a clearly defined space to exist in over the weeks to come.
I have always been fascinated by the possibilities that restriction creates. In music, often the most memorable melodies and vocal lines are those kept to a few notes and based around repeating motifs. Techno as a genre is based in its entirety around repetitive, slowly evolving loops and subtle sonic tweaks. Haiku and limericks require steadfast adherence to structure and meter, while charcoal sketches and watercolour paintings leverage a limited palette to better involve the imagination in artistic appreciation.
I suppose it might be a tad optimistic to suggest that constraints are usually advantages in disguise, but I do think that constraints eliminate the paralysis of choice. With respect to Henry Ford, it is not hard to pick a colour when black is the only option.
I keep a lot of lists. One of them is called Things I Already Know. It is reserved for things that I have very clearly learned, the hard way, and then seemingly forgotten, only to be reminded all over again the next time it happens. Nobody likes to step on a rake or slip on a banana peel twice.
I have recently made a new addition to the list as a result of unexpected household events. This new entry reminds me that where it comes to household plumbing, while preventative maintenance may be less exciting than waiting for things to burst, preventative maintenance is also a lot cheaper and more convenient than dealing with an unexpected midweek 3am water pipe disaster. Check your flexi hoses.
Circumstances here in Melbourne are similarly coming back around a second time, with the city having just entered a second period of extended lockdown as of this morning. As a city, it seems we knew what to do, then we forgot, and now we are being reminded again of what we once already knew.
This mix is a three hour set, mixed live and livestreamed into the cars and living rooms of a few close friends the weekend before last. It contains a number of recently released songs that I have been eagerly waiting to get my hands on, as well as a few fresh revisits to a few classic tunes from a simpler time. As befits the current state of things, it is in equal parts comforting, moody, wistful and relaxed. Whatever level of freedom you are able to enjoy, I hope it brings you a bit of peace and calm for the road ahead.
The reticular activating system is a short, pencil-sized piece of the brain located just above where the spinal cord is attached to the brain. It acts as the gatekeeper of information between most sensory systems and the conscious mind. It decides what needs our attention and what can be safely ignored, and highlights the things in our universe that align with its priorities and concerns. Fight or flight, when all you have is a hammer everything looks like a nail, and all that sort of stuff.
With all that is going on in the world, it can be easy to get drawn into focusing on far away events, and to lose perspective on the many peaceful mysteries unfolding in our more immediate vicinity. At the risk of stating the obvious, recent weeks have reminded me that shifting focus and stepping away from the stimulus even just for a little bit can work small wonders in resetting the sensors towards a more positive heading.
It has been a few months now that social engagement has been curtailed. Australia has managed things well by the look of things, with intergovernmental cooperation sustained, and policy decisions driven by science and fact, rather than ideology or ignorance.
For the moment, we remain in a state of suspended in home animation, ready to take flight when the moment is right, but happy to chill in the meantime. While we are not out of the woods yet, there is definitely a light at the end of the tunnel. Nonetheless, as I write this on the eve of Mothers Day, it seems the backlog is growing of family to embrace, friends to see, things to do, and places to go.
This mix was recorded live last weekend, and livestreamed to a few of the people that, if I had my way, would have instead been in my living room that night. As with all my mixes, the lyrics paint a picture across the arc of the set, and set a bit of context for the mood of the day. While we may be locked down safe at home, we can still connect, reflect, and enjoy putting together plans for the not too distant future. Look forward to seeing you all again soon.
After a bone breaks, there is a short period of time during the reparative stage of the healing process where the area around the fracture is stronger than it was before the injury. Having broken a few bones over the years, this period of extended staying at home feels a bit like a period of recovery after an injury. There is reduced movement, a focus on wellness, and a paradoxical sense of both peace and impatience towards an anticipated return to something approaching normalcy, while also recognising that things may never quite be the same even once the healing is over.
The political, economic, social and public health ramifications of all of this will undoubtedly be profound. As such, it is both a turning point and a time for reflection. With luck, the path forward will see us strengthen, rehabilitate and rebuild to a future state that is stronger, more resilient and more supportive than that which we leave behind.
What an extraordinary time we are living through. With a global pandemic raging, it seems the whole world is focused precisely on a single little organic particle. I have high hopes that the collective undivided attention of the best and brightest minds on earth will bring us through the current storm of uncertainty, despite what feels at the moment like considerable turbulence and disruption.
While settling in to close quarters for an extended period of time with limited provisions may not be universally seen as a good time, I can think of at least one group of people who pay large sums of money for the experience, with some even seeing it as the height of minimalist luxury. I am of course talking about bluewater sailing. And so with necessity the mother of invention, we have through the combined power of imagination and technology recently embarked on a transoceanic journey, plotted out on an oversize world map on our dining room wall, and supported by the realtime sailing simulator Sailaway.
Leaving behind the empty parties and strung out streets of lockup life, we set sail from Rodd Island in Sydney a week ago. Having worked our way up the NSW and Queensland coast with favourable winds, we are scheduled to arrive in New Caledonia this evening. Hard to say where this journey will end, but while we are on it we will do the best we can to make use of the time, sense of the circumstances, and see some sights along the way. Bon voyage!
Melbourne summers seem to go on forever, with plenty of sunshine and long warm evenings. Unfortunately, the winters seem to go on forever too. Even before coming to Australia, I often thought that the length of a year felt like exactly the amount of time one can remember what a season feels like, so that when each one comes it feels like a distant but not quite forgotten memory.
As the old saying goes, what goes up must come down. It certainly seems to have been true through the summer of strangely intense weather we have had here in Australia, from fires to rain to hail to record breaking heatwaves. Yet just when we thought we had seen it all an entirely new meteorological marvel arrived, in the form a torrential rainstorm filled with mud. It started as blowing sand, then turned to rain, and by the time it was done the entire city was coated with a thin film of red dusty grit. Truly something for everyone these past few months. What a summer indeed.
And so it is now 2020. It has been an interesting few weeks here in Melbourne. Australia has been making headlines around the world due to a particularly severe bushfire season, and there have been a few days of smoke across the city that made things all feel a bit surreal. On a personal level, multiple overseas visitors have helped see the local sights through a fresh lens, while a minor knee injury has meant a bit less movement than might have originally been anticipated.
Recent weeks have also seen us gain a bit more familiarity with the local wildlife, too. Perhaps it is the time off that has allowed us to stop and look up for a bit, and to take a bit more accountability for nature and our surrounds. Wherever the shift in perspective has come from, it has been a welcome addition to our world.
Recent weeks have shown me just how much things can change quickly. From moves across the globe to changes in fortune and circumstance, it seems that for many people close to me, recent events have served up a decidedly different state of affairs. From flights to fights to crashes and funerals, these events, while unconnected, seem to collectively reinforce the fragile, ephemeral nature of the current state of play.
Is time precious? Is life short? Where does one differentiate between an experience endured and an experience enjoyed? Does knowing one will look back on a set of circumstances positively in future, make any difference to our ability to endure it in the present?
Wherever you happen to be on the seemingly circuitous trail that loops us all between enduring, persevering, prospering and panicking at this particular moment, godspeed, and may good spirits, good music and good companions help light the way.
In recent weeks we have been watching a thought provoking TV series focused on time travel, and how the choices we make set us on certain paths. Having finished the second season of the series, one line in particular sticks out – the observation that every choice for something is a choice against something else.
When in the thick of things with a given set of circumstances it can be easy to feel limited, constrained or stuck on a track towards an unintended destination. Sometimes a good bit of television is all we need to be reminded that we always have choices, and that as often as not inevitability is just a state of mind.
I read once that being organised means that where things are suits what those things mean, so that each thing takes as little psychic energy as possible to find when it is needed, while not being in the way. With spring arriving to Melbourne, the days are getting longer and the weather more variable. As such it feels like a great time to get a bit more organised, and to make sure everything at home has an appropriate home of its own. With a bit of motion and a bit of consideration, we can get things in order for the warmer months and adventures soon to come.
We recently returned from a very special overseas trip that included a weekend stop in Toronto. For a trip full of highlights, one of the absolute standout evenings of the entire adventure was a Friday evening spent downtown in the Toronto Fashion District. It was a pleasantly warm summer evening, with great music, great food, great company, a splash of suspiciously good champagne and a particularly good sound system. Friendships were refreshed, stories told, and bonds strengthened across the group. The geography makes it hard to do often, so when we do it, it is nice to do it well.
This mix is built around some of the music that was played that night by the rotating cast of characters that took the controls over the course of the evening. It was recorded a few weeks after our return to Australia, and it owes a lot to the musical suggestions and impressions made over the course of that memorable summer evening in Toronto.
For the four years we lived in Richmond, we lived in the shadow of the London Tavern, an old school pub full of character and charm. Great beers, decent food, a lovely beer garden, and just a few steps down the street from where we lived. We got to know it very well.
Settling in to South Yarra, we have yet to settle on a place that we can call our own to such an extent. There are plenty to choose from, from traditional to stylish to upmarket to wowzers, and perhaps it is the incredible range of choice that has led us to be unable to pick a new favourite. The London, for all of its faults, was really our only choice and so we loved it, flaws and all.
This mix was recorded live on the Saturday night before my birthday, having returned from a celebratory dinner at one of the many local options. An unassuming place with a French name and a Carlton Draught beer sign lit up on the roof, it is mix between gastropub and fine dining, and it was a great place to ring in a quiet birthday celebration. I suspect we will be back there many more times in the months and years to come.
