Artist Spotlight...Alexi Murdoch
Check Out his live performance recording of 'Orange Sky' in Florida
I’m not sure whether its the mix of mellow tunes, midnight munches or even the simplicity of human loneliness that’s makes past 12 such a vulnerable part of the day. It could even be a cocktail of different combinations. I’ve never really felt enough curiosity to develop any theory on the matter. Although from experience, the midnight hour is where my mind seems to slow down to a lethargic pulse and begins to mould itself into a retrospective outlook. I think I’ve trained my mind into the habit, if it is just that. Its normally ends with anger or the burnt distaste that you feel in your throat at first light. The way in which addicts get that draw back and soon find themselves indulging in the one thing they promised themselves they wouldn’t. My indulgence has legality and from my understanding is far less vigorous than the above, i do have a safety net that has found comfort in the past however it spanned out, i lure myself into circulating problems of the presents and set up mind turbulence for the up comings of the future.
Sometimes I force myself into the state, lying their in my bed making figures on the ruffled plain ceiling. A ghostly muddled face or a leaping rabbit in the hedge grows. I’m not too partial to silence, especially not silence in thoughts. It’s a declaration that I’m physically and thoughtfully alone. Alone in every aspect of life. To keep an unburdened mind that is free of the obligations, the hassle - the tasks that were thrown into is, is to turn against nature. To sleep easy, is for me, in my life to sleep in suppression. To sleep in the quiet ignorance that the stove is turned off to just a light spark, that the problems are solved or as solved as there ever be and that tomorrow is a cold plait of opportunity like the ones they served up at black tie occasions. The platters of unpronounceable food making you all the more weary of whether to poison your gut with the adventitious nip picking.
And the number 12? i guess it has no relation to anything tragic or upsetting, nothing untoward that offers explanation to the vulnerability i feel after 12 midnight. The number 12 is not a trigger of any sort I do not cry at its dark hidden meanings. Its part of the numeracy group which can be mathematically broken down to byte size facts. Its the time of the day, the minutes your meant to cook the man handled microwave meals, part of your insurance number or half the code to your pin number, its a date you must remember or the spare pennies you hold for safe keeps in your box of change. Its not however, the explanation to the midnight phenomenon that makes me feel so fragile.
7 years ago, an intriguingly basic gameshow format was launched. It set to imprison 11 housemates into one house for 64 days with the chances of winning what was then a staggering £70,000 pounds of prize money. The 11 ordnary citzens who entered unknowingly to the now infamous big brother experience, were about to single handley populalise the reality genre to new heights.
The chat up line for the show was on the face of it, simplistic to the point that it would seem bizzarre if not stupified that anybody would even tune in, even to this day people claim such a statement is true and hold their hands in amazement that people do tune in. 7 years on there are still the familar traits of bitching, high drama, twists and all out emotional traumas which seemed to have hooked 1 in 4 britians. With a regular 5m following, alongside critical storm throwing, media attention and the usual social gossiping, its hard to believe that the format still stands. One may question whether its once confident standpoint in the tv scedules remains or if it rather limply wobbles on a wooden leg. Though its to tiredsome to to enter such a debate on reality tv, which has become a regular fixture in the television buisness(one that lacks any resolution). We can at least find brief closure in big brothers finales outing, at least for 2006.
Reality TV's rein as the alternative floor filler for 12 weeks of what could be coined televisions dry season, especially when concerning the US market has finally ended. For some it helped us mourn pass the season finales of our favourite shows, a peaceful rest from wondering whatever happened to Nip/tuck's season 3? or even Why Bree Van Der Kamp ALWAYS picks pyscho men with secrets? or even how amazing prison breaks 2 part finale was and how it probably wont be that good again and how i will be tortured to have to wait till january to see what happens!
You see i have yet to indulge in the growing downloading community. Im a traditional watcher, to set in my ways to make such a radical move away from the tv set to the computer screen to be able to make any kind of change. So in light of that, one can only look forward to the return of without a trace and greys anatomy, be curious about sleeper cell and entourage, deliberate over the sopranos and try to gage when Nip/tuck will reappear!
The summer dry season is finally over and TV land is about to get alot more dramatical!