Given the ongoing cloud cover in northern Britain, today I was reliant on the handy Phases of the Moon app to let me know there was a new moon this morning. How apposite, I thought, we’re up to N, start of the week… thematic coherence in light of some of the recent posts…

… it was going to be some thing about symbolic resonance, all that. Then I remembered it sounds better in French.

La, la lune est libre, je crois…

(Stereolab – Lo Boob Oscillator)

Just wanted to share some favoured disks being placed far away from any charity bags/car boot piles…

Not sure precisely when I started digging jazz. It slips in and out of favour in some ways, but there’s something kind of compelling about good strains.

I keep meaning to do a podcast about it, because it’d sound more interesting than it reads… but it’s all on vinyl, so it’d maybe be a bit of a fiddle… We’ll see! Here are five sides that were front of mind when I decided to make this the thing, anyway.

Fletcher Henderson & the Connie’s Inn Orchestra. Recorded 1926 & 1931. Deeply groovy.

Django & Stephane mainly, from 1938 and 1946. Love’s Melody in particular is required listening.

Be bop genius Fats Navarro recorded most of the tracks in 1946/1947. He died in 1950… aged 27.

Two giants of the piano with totally different styles somehow totally complement each other on this session from late in both their careers (1974).

One of the forgotten pioneers of the form, Bennie Moten deserves to be remembered if only for his titles. “Elephant’s Wobble”, “18th Street Strut”, “Sister Honky Tonk”, and “Goofy Dust”. Also totally rocking.

Nice.

(Standard English version below…)

aɪ seɪəʊld bɔɪˈʤɒli gʊd ʃəʊwɒt

ˈtraɪɪŋ tuː ˈkæpʧər ˈækjʊrɪtli ðə weɪ ˈpiːpl spiːk ɪz frɔːt wɪð ˈɛrə. təˈdeɪz pəʊst ɪz ɔːl əˈbaʊt aɪ-piː-eɪbaɪ wɪʧ aɪ miːn ə səˈluːt tuː ði ˌɪntə(ː)ˈnæʃənl fəʊˈnɛtɪk ˈælfəbɪt ˈrɑːðə ðæn ˈɪndɪə peɪl eɪlðə dɪˈlɪʃəsˈhɒpɪ vəˈraɪəti ɒvbɪəðɪs ʧɔɪs ɪz ˈprɒbəbli ɪnˈtaɪəli ˈgɪmɪkɪbʌt ɪn ˈrɑːðə ðə seɪm weɪ æz ðə dəʊnt dɪkˈteɪt pəʊst ɒn trænsˈkrɪpʃən tuːlz, wɒt ˈstɑːtɪd æz ə bɪt ɒv ə ʤəʊk fɔː maɪˈsɛlf tɜːnd ˈɪntuː ə ˈfæsɪneɪtɪŋ ˈprəʊsɛs æt liːst æz ˈɪntrɪstɪŋ æz ði ˈækʧʊəl ˈfɪnɪʃtˈdɒkjʊmənt.

aɪ-piː-eɪ ɪz juːzd tuː ˈɪndɪkeɪt pronounciation, ænd aɪ hæv lɛft ðæt dɪˈlɪbərət ˈɔːdɪˌəʊ gæg typo ɪn tuː ʃəʊ haʊ ðə ˈsɒftweə ˈbiːɪŋjuːzd (https://tophonetics.kɒm/) kəʊpt wɪð ˈlɪtl ˈvɜːbəl tɪks pʊt ɪn baɪ ə ˈwɪmzɪkəl ˈtaɪpɪst. “prəˌnaʊnsɪˈeɪʃən” ɪz wʌn ɒv maɪˈfeɪvərɪt nɒt-ə-wɜːd wɜːdz, əˈlɒŋ wɪð “ˌɪrɪˈgɑːdləs”, frɒm wɪʧ kʌmz ðæt dɑːft wɜːd ɪn ðə ˈtaɪtl ɒv ðɪs pəʊst.

æz juː kæn siː, tophonetics – tuː ɪts greɪt ˈkrɛdɪt – ʤʌst liːvz wɜːdz ðæt duː nɒt ɪgˈzɪst æz ðeɪ ɑː taɪpt. aɪ dɪˈlaɪtɪd ɪn ðə ˈnəʊʃən ɒv əˈsʌmwɒt ˈsnɪfi kəmˈpjuːtər rɪsˈpɒns. “deɪv, jʊə ʤʌst ˈbiːɪŋ ˈsɪli, naʊ, ɑːnt juː?” tuː gɛt ðə wɜːd aɪ ˈwɒntɪd, aɪ hæd tuː raɪtɪn “prəˌnʌnsɪˈeɪʃən” ænd ðɛn “naʊ” tuː gɛt ðə raɪt ˌkɒmbɪˈneɪʃən ɒv ˈvaʊəl saʊndz. ðə wɜːd “typo” wɒz ˈklɪəli ən ˈɪʃuː æzwɛl, səʊ aɪ juːzd “taɪp əʊ”. siː, ˈɔːlsəʊ, maɪ prəˌnʌnsɪˈeɪʃən ɒv “ˈtrɒlɪŋ” laɪk “ˈdɒl-ɪŋ”, nɒt “ˈbəʊlɪŋ”, ɪn ə ˈpærəgrɑːf ɔː səʊ.

əʊ! haʊ wiː larfed! (ænd naʊ aɪ æm ɪˈmæʤɪnɪŋ ə ˈslaɪtli ʌpˈtaɪtnɒt-ˈgɛtɪŋ-ɪt kəmˈpjuːtə təʊn ˈkriːpɪŋ ɪn: “ɑːjɛsðə juːz ɒv ə ˈkɒkni ˈfəʊniːm ˈɪndɪkeɪtsˈhjuːmə.” pɜːˌsɒnɪfɪˈkeɪʃənfɔː miːɪz pəˈhæps ðə ˈgreɪtɪst ɒv ɔːl ˈɪfiˈkeɪʃənz.)

haʊ dɪd ɪt kʌm tuː ðɪs? ə grəʊn ˈpɜːsn, ˈtrɒlɪŋ kəmˈpjuːtə ˈsɒftweə wɪð lɪŋˈgwɪstɪk ɪn-ʤəʊks. ˈjuːzɪŋ tɛkˈnɒləʤi tuː rɪf ænd teɪk ðə pɪs. ɪn ə breɪv njuː wɜːld ɒv eɪ-aɪ / məˈʃiːn ɪnˈtɛlɪʤəns, pəˈhæps ðæt ɪz ðə bɛst wiː kæn həʊp fɔːr .

ˈsɒrihællʊks laɪk juː gɒt ðæt rɒŋ əˈgɛn!” 

deɪvjʊər ə pjʊə ˈbæstədsəʊ juː ɑː.” 

naʊˈmeɪkɪŋ məˈʃiːn ɪnˈtɛlɪʤəns kəʊp wɪð rɪˈsiːvd prəˌnʌnsɪˈeɪʃən bæk-trænsˈleɪʃənz ɒv glæzˈwiːʤən ˈɪdɪəmz… 

wɒt kʊd ˈpɒsəbli gəʊ rɒŋ?

My Lachrymoid 3000 plug-in has been activated, Dave, I hope you are happy now.

maɪ ˈlækrɪmɔɪd 3000 plʌg-ɪn hæz biːn ˈæktɪveɪtɪd, deɪv, aɪ həʊp juː ɑː ˈhæpi naʊ.

 

I say, old boy! Jolly good show, what?

Trying to capture accurately the way people speak is fraught with error. Today’s post is all about IPA, by which I mean a salute to the International Phonetic Alphabet rather than India Pale Ale, the delicious, hoppy variety of beer. This choice is probably entirely gimmicky, but, in rather the same way as the Don’t Dictate post on transcription tools, what started as a bit of a joke for myself turned into a fascinating process at least as interesting as the actual finished document.

IPA is used to indicate pronounciation, and I have left that deliberate audio gag typo in to show how the software being used (https://tophonetics.com/) coped with little verbal tics put in by a whimsical typist. “Pronounciation” is one of my favourite not-a-word words, along with “irregardless”, from which comes that daft word in the title of this post.

As you can see, tophonetics – to its great credit – just leaves words that DO NOT EXIST as they are typed. I delighted in the notion of a somewhat sniffy computer response. “Dave, you’re just being silly, now, aren’t you?” To get the word I wanted, I had to write in “pronunciation” and then “now” to get the right combination of vowel sounds. The word “typo” was clearly an issue as well, so I used “type oh”. See, also, my pronunciation of “trolling” like “doll-ing”, not “bowling”, in a paragraph or so.

Oh! How we larfed! (And now I am imagining a slightly uptight, not-getting-it computer tone creeping in: “Ah, yes: The use of a Cockney phoneme indicates humour.” Personification, for me, is perhaps the greatest of all ifications.)

How did it come to this? A grown person, trolling computer software with linguistic in-jokes. Using technology to riff, and take the piss.

Perhaps that is the best we can hope for in a brave new world of AI/machine intelligence.

“Sorry, HAL! Looks like you got that wrong again!”

“Dave, you’re a pure bastard, so you are.”

Now, making machine intelligence cope with received pronunciation back-translations of Glaswegian idioms…

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?

 

Longer-term followers of The Mortal Bath may recall mention of horticultural activity.

Sunday in the garden, a nice ritual in a number of aspects. Eventually the physical event of tending the plants took on a greater importance than any need to communicate it to the wider world.

Part of that is the unbearable crunchiness of it, the perception of so-called virtue so-called signalling, all that. At core was a question for which I was unable to generate a satisfactory response. (The question of course being “Who gives a fuck?”)

I’d often devote mental space to extrapolation while in between the rows. Composing, contemplating the long-term potential of collating the posts into a modestly successful series of books, the delivery service, a large scale permaculture campaign, the inevitable backlash and ensuing midlife crisis in which I purchased a fleet of leather jackets and a battered motorcycle to make a road movie round the Horn of Africa with Ewan McGregor.

I would giggle softly to myself as I returned to the present to hoick a clump of cat shit into the hedge with the hoe.

“Yeah, but, acorns, man!”

“No, definitely a cat.”

Anyway, Green Parent magazine/ rise and fall fantasias aside, there’s such a lot to be said for digging, edging, preparing, planting, weeding, growing, picking and eating. There is a lot to be said about it as well, but, like those writers spending endless hours polishing their process posts, it’s likely as useful left unuttered.

Last year we grew radishes, potatoes, beetroot, carrots, onions, leeks, beans, broccoli, rocket and turnips. This is in a space about 6x7m.

We also had tomatoes and cucumbers in grow bags along the wall under the kitchen window, mint in a metal tub (mint loves to take over) and borage in poly pots. A hop plant did well for itself until it got overrun with aphids… the ladybirds we introduced quickly got too fat to keep up with the little green varmints. We had a disappointing elderberry crop for the same reason.

Mostly, though, we had tasty, tasty veg.

The great thing about gardening is that it’s an annual lesson in planning being only part of the schedule. The science of it is fairly predictable, but it’s all subject to uncontrollable variables.

This was last month… I mean, I’m only writing this because it’s chucking it down with rain outside, again.

This weekend, though, fair being foul or no, we’re potting up and planting what we can. The excitement of the new season is upon us. The bird is on the wing. Pan’s pipes do warble native woodnotes wild. There’s a bustle in the hedgerow.

Although, to be honest, that is more likely to be next door’s cat.

Flipping through the vinyl section of one of the fundraising shops in town this fine Friday, feeling the final flashes of the Easter furlough fading, I found myself transfixed as I footered.

Her fascinating face…

babsbabsbabsbabsbabsbabsbabs

today’s entry is going to be made using voice recognition typing type software and I’m going to further complicated by recording this will help Max and Ruby is on DVD in the background

I used to work in transcription about ten years ago and this kind of software would have been a bit of a godsend however even at the time it was clear that we meaning them human right as would be needed in an editorial capacity because if you read the original transcript of this it would be obvious that people would really get what you were talking about but id be a bit messy

and so it actually reading back this is exceeded my expectations even with the Wind somebody’s talking in the background and a crunchy of carrot for my little one who’s watching the DVD

here’s an idea – singing bluebird earrings are on offer at $4

the Lobster wants to share your birthday cake mix

downstairs after us a real episode the DVD has started skipping because of damage that the DS I’ll continue my dictation yeah writing for a living I had a lot of shortcuts on my keyboard and it was quite a useful

facility one that turn a hard job easy

something I’ve noticed about this dictation software is that it tends to just stop working in the middle of the sentence if you pause or hesitate apparently so you can have to go on a bit of a roll and hope that you’re not going to run out of things to say in the middle of saying them which is I realised pretty much really how I write

the function of this seems to be helpful if you were driving she can do a verbal notes but if you’re having Cris keep stopping to press record again because he keeps stopping while you’re doing it then that’s going to be a bit of an inconvenience and probably something that you might get pulled over and arrested for

also it appears to be introducing a narrative into my notes in that this character Cris is now the person responsible mm maybe that’s what I should call my dictation software note to self for all of the mistakes that I make

I mean considering that I’m actually talking quite quickly, and I keep forgetting to do much punctuation comma this device is coped admirably to be honest

https://youtu.be/DPCO85TSVlA

I can’t get the YouTube app to embed that properly but that is somewhat predictively penetration with don’t dictate oh yeah.

My basic point here is that news media seems to have become a cartoon, yet it is the viewer who is standing in thin air, holding a hand-lettered sign reading “Have mercy”.

“News” has always been subject to partisan adaptation, but in recent years there has been a lurch towards more and more overt manipulation and propaganda.

I don’t mean all that made-up stuff on Facebook. Which, by the way, appears even MORE made-up the more I see that one screen grab that proves Russia was trying to make fools out of America in the Presidential election. The Satan arm-wrestling Jesus one? I’ve never seen it in any other form except that one screen grab. Anyway.

The problem of the use by Trump (et al) of the term “fake news” is that what is frequently termed “the mainstream media” (MSM) (which I take it refers to traditionally reputable reporting outlets like newspapers, their online versions, BBC, ITV, Sky News, and the US equivalents) are, indeed, now perhaps more than ever, offering clearly biased versions of events, or frequently just making shit up.

It is a pantomime so painfully laboured that it is unclear for whom the entertainment is intended.

It could be argued that with the presentation of some issues in the news cycle being so blatantly one-sided and manipulative, there must be some other aim to the parade of bogus views, faked outrage and nose-leading opinion pieces masquerading as reporting.

Distractive media, one might call it, existing purely to have everyone looking at something else while some particularly egregious scheme is effected.

In the UK, for one example, we have Katie Hopkins, whose utterances I greet with a shrug when I hear about them. Her provocations are such a contrivance that I cannot expend any energy on them.

For another example, follow @geoffreyjewdas on Twitter and work backwards to the BBC’s latest round of character assassination concerning Jeremy Corbyn.

The Salisbury “chemical weapons” thing.

It is documented fact that eccentric multimillionaires attempt to control the discourse. Their reaction to a loss of monopoly, through individuals being able to access information directly, with millions simply not trusting them n’more, seems to have been to insist that their broadcasting organs present increasingly quixotic and offensively skewed information.

There’s a sense of acceleration about it too, an increasingly frantic scramble towards the base, which appears also to be a mode manufactured deliberately.

Yet with cackhanded obviousness, brazen wrongness. This seems more about attempts – and I mean comically slapdash attempts – to control people’s perceptions of events in a way that suggests our overlords don’t care who knows they’re trying to do it, or that they think no one can tell. Only, is it because “they” – The Man – think it’s safe to just do what they like, or that they want everyone to think that?

It calls to mind a real-world version of Facebook’s walled garden. A place where individual stories can’t change individuals’ decisions, but the overall backdrop can manipulate the way those events are interpreted. Only the backdrop here is apparently one of those Wile E. Coyote works, painted over a canyon wall, through which Roadrunner disappears, and from which emerges a truck, with horn blaring.

Viewed from outside the cartoon, it is funny in its preposterousness. Inside the world of the cartoon, from the point of view of the Coyote, it is an affront to reason, one that might legitimately prompt another hand-lettered sign saying “What the fuck is going on?”