Friday, October 15

We came, we surfed, then Covid forced us to urinate in a patio on the way home | Kitty empire

PAre you planning a vacation at home? My 12 longed-for days in Cornwall were reduced to four thanks to a certain virus that we are going to live with, without restrictions, starting tomorrow. It was a tempting micro-break. Two surf lessons, an indulgent poaching in a hot tub, a serving of fish and chips, and an absurdly scenic hike. Nanjizal beach, believe it, was deserted, save for two very patient geologists.

The app then pinged a family member, who then tested positive. We had been attributing her mild symptoms to too much fun. We debated options: self-isolate in an Airbnb that we had to leave or risk a hefty fine to drive home to ensure the best biosecurity. A wild conjecture suggests that this may happen to some people this summer, so I offer my experience, with the deep understanding that these are absolutely first world problems. Many waiting minutes until 119 solved our dilemma. Yes, we could go home if we didn’t stop and eat only at the drive-thru and use petrol pumps with pins. Reader, we peed in orderly repose. I can exclusively reveal that the A303’s Stonehenge looks like a Styrofoam mockup. There could be something in my eye.

Quarantine tunes

The holiday that wasn’t with the soundtrack Rule book, an excellent mix of dub and roots reggae of seven hours compiled by MC Taylor of the American team Hiss Golden Messenger. Key clue: Right, right time by Johnny Osbourne, a rewind again, a mixture of mellifluous soul, minimal instrumentation and straightness. “Whatever we sow in creation, we will surely reap,” Osbourne sings. “They will pay us at the right time.”

Self-isolation brought a lot of comfort to see and hear. While everyone has been worried about him Friends reunion, is for reruns of the incomparable Frasier I’ve come back for my ’90s kicks. Of all the things I should be listening to, streaming, or evaluating for work purposes, one album stood out. Two thumbs up, as they say on the Tour de France highlights program (another unrivaled distraction), to Welsh electronic producer Koreless for the haunting and arpeggiating wonder that is their debut album, Open. Ten years in the making, it matched my internal climate strangely well.

Damnation Stream

Last week, multi-party groups of MPs investigating the economics of streaming released a revealing report. Most of us know that streaming is absurdly unfair to artists, but its reach is still impressive. You know something’s wrong when Spotify co-founder Daniel Ek can find £ 2 billion on the back of his couch on a renewed attempt to buy Arsenal.

The report talks about “pitiful returns” for the creatives who make up the soundtracks of our lives, while exposing a vast superstructure of middlemen taking away their percentages – not much reaping for a lot of seeding, if you’re a tune-up. maker. TO “hard reboot”From the market it is necessary; the Department of Digital Media, Culture, Media and Sports recommends referring the entire industry to the Competition and Markets Authority and a “wide and comprehensive” range of legislative reforms.

Ah, legislative reforms. To the government, whose beautiful for musicians and the wider entertainment industry the UK is famous. You know, the government that denied proper Covid support to artists, music festivals, small, autonomous venues, the “Philistines” whose Brexit deal makes it ridiculously difficult for bands to tour Europe. Those guys. They are really going to dismantle an unfair system and rebuild better, curbing the power of the major record companies to ensure that talent and hard work are fairly paid.

Kitty Empire is The Observer’s pop critic

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