A Song A Day, Song 4: Sugar Lumps by Flight of the Conchords

And now for something completely different. Bret and Jemaine announced they won’t be making a third series of Flight of the Conchords. Sad times. Here’s some nostalgia.

A Song A Day – Song 3: Big Jumps by Emiliana Torrini

Off her superb album Me and Armini, Icelandic singer Emiliana Torrini’s Big Jumps is an awesome little bundle of a song.

If you like a lot of quirky in your music, join our club

Slow Club, Union Chapel, 17/12/09

I love going to gigs blind. Well deaf as it were. Not knowing anything about the band. That way I can’t really be disappointed, because I have no expectations. If I don’t like it, meh, I haven’t lost anything, if I do, bonus!
To the same degree I’m often anxious about going to see gigs of bands I really like, usually because I’m terrified they’re going to be shit and I’ll never like them in the same way.
Take Graham Coxon for example. I loved Happiness in Magazines and Love Travels at Illegal Speeds, so when I went to see him in Tunbridge Wells last year I was so excited. But he insisted on only playing tracks from his new album The Spinning Top. Which, by the way, is shit. And so was the gig. The crowd begged him to play Freakin’ Out but he told them to fuck off. I haven’t listened to Graham Coxon since.
So, when I went to Union Chapel – my favourite venue – on Thursday to see Slow Club I was a little apprehensive. I love the Sheffield duo’s album Yeah So with the sort of passion I had for my first crush. And going to see them at the beautiful Union Chapel had the potential to be a personal top 5 gig. If it was shit, I’d be crushed. Just like when the aforementioned Gemma Smith rejected my date offer. Bitch.
Charles and Rebecca meekly appeared on the stage after the hauntingly excellent Cate le Bon and entertainingly funny Pictish Trail had warmed the suitably cold crowd up.
The pair chatted nervously between them before a sheepish “You alright?” from Rebecca to the crowd.
It was like watching a Year 12 music performance at school, Charles and Rebecca sniggling and chatting in-between songs like teenagers on the way to their maths class. Shy, coy and nerdy.
But it was adorable, and when each song started they transformed into bold, confident artists, with beautifully haunting voices, captivating the sell out crowd.
“Oh God, there’s so many of you. This is the biggest crowd we’ve played to,” said a stunned Rebecca. Judging by their performance, they’ll soon be playing to more.
Each carefully crafted song, with it’s quirky, heartfelt lyrics, catchy melodies and perfect harmonies, sounded exactly like the recordings on their album. Which is quite a feat.
They even played Christmas TV, which is my favourite track of last year.
As the gig progressed, both Charles and Rebecca grew in confidence, and opened up like the first flowers of spring. By the end they had the crowd, usually reserved and seated in such a solemn venue, on their feet and dancing.
I left the church and back into the freezing cold air of north London with a big smile on my face, pleased and relieved, and feeling like I’d made two awesome new friends.

Year hear me?

A lot has happened to me recently, and it’s made me think about the choices you make day to day and the effect they have on your life.
If I hadn’t come back from America early for Jon’s birthday, I wouldn’t have got a job at goal.com, I wouldn’t have moved to London (yet) and would have missed out on some of the new connections I’ve made. I wonder what would have happened and where I’d be if I had stayed in the states though. Probably still in Los Angeles, but there’s no guarantee that would be the case. I know I’d still be making new friends, and hanging out with very special ones, but I feel like I’ve made real progress in the six weeks that I’ve been home.
Wow, six weeks? Is that all? It feels much longer because so much has happened. In a nutshell, I’ve moved to Putney, got three new jobs (two of them temporary), met some really cool new people, been to lots of gigs, been to a musical, travelled across the country, and seen lots of special familiar faces.
It makes me positive for the future, and what’s in store just around the corner. The new year is two weeks away but I feel like anything could happen. And judging by the last six weeks, lots probably will.
It’s weird though, as high as I feel I’ve climbed in the past few months, and as good as my American adventure was for my confidence, I still find myself having as many lows as highs, and they show up quickly and unexpectedly. I guess I’ll always wrestle with that side of my confidence, and it doesn’t make me feel great that I can be brought back down to earth so easily, but I’ve got to deal with that. Plus, there’s definitely a cheesy quote somewhere about having the lows to have the highs or something.
So as 2009 comes to close I can look back on it with a smile, it’s changed me, and definitely for the better. I made some amazing friendships and grew closer to some very special people. I had lots of struggles, mostly of my own doing, but they made me stronger, and more confident in myself. I’m feeling pretty good about 2010.

Back, but not for good

I cried when I slumped into my plane seat at Houston Airport. It was a combination of relief at having made my connection (thanks to a swift jog across half of Houston), and a final realisation that I was heading home. It was only when I saw the map of the UK on my seat screen that it sunk in – I was going home.
Home to England, but away from America – where I had truely settled and made some dear friends.
My window out to the Atlantic was small, but it is my window, and I can choose whether to look out of it or not. I feel like this five month adventure was a result of me looking out of my window, liking what I saw and wanting to see more.
Getting comfortable is the bane of any adventurer’s life, but i fund myself settling in Los Angeles quickly. Unsurprising, really, in a neighbourhood that was as friendly as it was affluent. The lifestyle lent itself to an easy existence, where life’s riches dropped at your door and people greeted you with a smile that suggested life satisfaction.
What my adventures truely offered me was the chance to meet new people and it threw so many brilliantly memorable souls my way.
Which is why I left the States with a heavy heart. But also with a promise to return soon, and stay longer. Much longer.
Previously on my travels to America I have been quite content to return home to England by the time my adventure was up. Not this time. I wasn’t ready to come home. I could have happily stayed longer, and had the option to, but there was something I had to come back for. Something I would have regretted not being there for.
The near future sees me staying in London, but past that, I really don’t know. I want to go back to America, there are lots of people I want to see, but also lots of things I want to do. I feel like my list is endless. I guess that’s a good thing.

Now What?

Even though I have two months left before I go home, it’s only two months. I’ve now been in California for three months and yet it only feels like three days, which mean the next two months will fly by. I’m already three weeks into the fall programme and it barely feels like we’ve got off the ground.
And yet a little bit of me is bursting to get home. I miss so many things: my friends, my family, London, English newspapers, proper football. I know that when I do finally board that plane at the end of November and step onto English soil I will feel great for a day or two. But then I will realise that all the things that made me quit my old job in England and search for a life abroad will slowly resurface.
I know another change is nearly upon me, but what is it? I know I can’t deal with English town life, I need to be living in a city. I know I need to be doing a job that excites and motivates me. And I know it needs to involve as much writing as possible.
But that aside, I’m stumped. I’m constantly looking at available jobs here in America and back home, but little seems to be open.
I’m trying to forge my own way too by writing freelance articles and attempting to piece together a sitcom and book. But I’ve had little interest in all three.
Being someone who wants to have all his fingers (and most of his toes) in different pies is both exciting and worrying. The future could be brilliant and wonderful, but it might not. I don’t know where I’m going next and that excites me, but it also makes me anxious.
I know I love being in America but I’ve decided not as a soccer coach. I’ve realised I just don’t care enough about it and I feel I’m doing the coaches and players here a disservice when they get me as a coach. I’m enthusiastic alright, and I know my stuff but I have nowhere near the amount of motivation that’s needed to really change a player (or a coach’s) life. Some of the other coaches here live and breath soccer. I don’t. Some really believe in what they do, and what they say to the coaches and kids. I don’t. Some want to make a difference in the way soccer is coached and played here, and help shape the future of the game across America. I don’t. Which is why I have to leave the company. But hopefully not America.
Which leaves me…well, undecided. I know my next step involves returning home for Christmas. After that? Who knows. Maybe back to America. Maybe to another country. Maybe to another city. I’ll just have to wait and see.

About A Boy

This week there was a kid called James in one of my sessions. He was a right pain. Always mucking around when the coach was talking, always inciting the other players to join him, not really listening to instructions (and then not being able to play the drills), and generally wanting to do his own thing and just kick a ball around.
Now, do you think this scenarios is about a) a kid in a group I coached or b) me during a training exercise with other MLS coaches?
The answer is actually all of the above and it made me realise that I am a hypocrite. I yell and yell at my kids I coach to behave and listen when I’m talking but every Thursday when we have coaches training at the Home Depot Centre in Carson, I am exactly the same. I’m the kid I hate to coach.
It means I’m not really in any position to have a go at the kids and it made me realise that to correct any wrongs with anything in your life you have to look closer to home first.
Before I criticise the kids for being badly behaved I have to ask myself why I feel the need to muck around during training (and it’s something I’ve always done throughout my playing career).
I guess it’s because of my lifelong ambition to be liked and thought of as entertaining by my peers rather than anyone in authority. Not that I don’t aspire to do well and improve, but I seem to be more concerned with my improvement as a social being rather than moving my way up the food chain.
The more I think about it, the more this trait was apparent at school where compassion and humbleness were apparent in bundles towards everyone (teacher included) but a yearning for academic success and fulfilment was overtaken by an aspiration to be thought of as funny.
When I did finally fall into a career it was unsurprising that it was one that involved talking and making friends, something I seemed keener to do in my youth than actual work.
Then again, I could just be an absolute moron.

On The Road

Here’s another poem, this time from my road trip across California a couple of weeks ago. Enjoy!

I’m driving with the windows down because the air con is broken
The shadows from the trees so tall are keeping me cool
My road is winding, wide and open
But still I can’t help feeling like a fool

I spent a day with the San Francisco bay
We shared stories and joked with the wind
The painted ladies asked me to stay
But my time there had to come to an end

I saw a dolphin in Yosemite
And the sun set the horizon on fire
I was filled with a sense of serenity
Standing on California’s spire

I cheated greed in Las Vegas
To suck me in he wasn’t able
I drew a line at having fun
When I put my cards on the table

I stopped taking photos in Arizona
My shots of the Grand Canyon were unjust
I spent my time questioning my persona
As the afternoon sun turned to dusk

Side-projects

A wise man once said ‘creativity is the catalyst of life’. Actually it wasn’t a wise man. It was me. Just then.
So I am trying to align myself with such a notion by writing as much creative stuff as I can. My latest project is a sitcom based on my experiences of coaching soccer in America. Here’s a snippet of episode two. Enjoy!

Scene 3
The boys are in the car pulling up to a field.
Mark: Decent sized field. Could easily do a tournament towards the end of the week.
Nick: Any chance of just doing one all week?
Dan: what’s the name of the co-ordinator again?
Mark: Jamie something. Sounds like a right prick.
Dan: (Looking out of the window) Prick isn’t the word I’d use.
A beautiful blonde is sanding there, with a clip board in soccer shorts and shirt.
Mark (Looking heavenwards) Thank you God. Maybe this week won’t be so bad after all.
They pull up and get out of the car.
Mark: Jamie! Mark Nappierella from English Soccer Camps. I must say you weren’t quite was I was expec..
Jamie: (Cutting him off) I thought you Brits were impeccable time keepers?
Mark: Yes, well, sorry about that. Someone wanted to stop for food. (he looks slyly at Nick, who is munching on candy).
Jamie: Well we’re here now. (She’s very proper, and organised and a little uptight). Here’s your rosters and I’ve put those who are all on the same team in bold. Also there is a list of camp rules, as well as some suggestions for you guys, you know, how to look, what not to say, how long activity breaks should last, that sort of thing.
Mark: O…k
Jamie (ignoring him). Also, here’s some extra games I thought might be good. (She hands him a folder, he starts to struggle with all the paper work). I trust there won’t be any problems this week but if there are here’s my cell phone number. I only work a few blocks away from the field, so can be here in a few minutes.
Mark: oh right, great. Thanks for all that Jamie. He drops a few papers.
Jamie: Right, must be off, pilates in 20 minutes. See you guys at the end of camp.
Mark: Er…I…ok. Thanks Jamie.
He drops all the papers and looks down at them despondently.
Dan appears.
Dan: How did it go? Did you work your magic?
Mark: Well I made her disappear. Does that count?

Expect to see it never aired.

Washing Machine

It has been said numerous times on the pages of this blog that my mind is a mess. Like a washing machine stuck on ‘go’ it is churning myriad thoughts around in a perpetual motion with no apparent ending in sight.
Now and then someone opens the door and a thought shoots out and lands on this blog, splattering onto the pages with little consideration for arrangement. It needs someone to wring them out and fold neatly.
I really need someone to switch my washing machine off and shift thought my thoughts, iron them out and arrange them. I need a dryer.