After the love has gone
How could you lead me on
And not let me stay around
After the love has gone
What used to be right is wrong
Can love that's lost be found?



She likes him. A lot. All i can do is let go.

Again.

Why are all the good fishes in the sea in another fisherman's net?

Piano:
Pianists are intellectuals and know-it-alls. They studied theory, harmony and composition in college. Most are riddled with self-doubt. They are usually bald. They should have big hands, but often don't. They were social rejects as adolescents. They go home after the gig and play with toy soldiers. Pianists have a special love-hate relationship with singers. If you talk to the piano player during a break, he will condescend.

Bass:
Bassists are not terribly smart. The best bassists come to terms with their limitations by playing simple lines and rarely soloing. During the better musical moments, a bassist will pull his strings hard and grunt like an animal. Bass players are built big, with paws for hands, and they are always bent over awkwardly. If you talk to the bassist during a break, you will not be able to tell whether or not he's listening. He may ask you for a Band-Aid.

Drums:
Drummers are radical. Specific personalities vary, but are always extreme. A drummer might be the funniest person in the world, or the most psychotic, or the smelliest. Drummers are uneasy because of the many jokes about them, most of which stem from the fact that they aren't really musicians. Pianists are particularly successful at making drummers feel bad. Most drummers are highly excitable; when excited, they play louder. If you decide to talk to the drummer during a break, always be careful not to sneak up on him.

Saxophone:
Saxophonists think they are the most important players on stage. Consequently, they are temperamental and territorial. They know all the Coltrane and Bird licks but have their own sound, a mixture of Coltrane and Bird. They take exceptionally long solos, which reach a peak half way through and then just don't stop. They practice quietly but audibly while other people are trying to play. They are obsessed. Saxophonists sleep with their instruments, forget to shower, and are mangy. If you talk to a saxophonist during a break, you will hear a lot of excuses about his reeds.

Trumpet:
Trumpet players are image-conscious and walk with a swagger. They are often former college linebackers. Trumpet players are very attractive to women, despite the strange indentation on their lips. Many of them sing; misguided critics then compare them to either Louis Armstrong or Chet Baker depending whether they're black or white. Arrive at the session early, and you may get to witness the special trumpet game. The rules are: play as loud and as high as possible.The winner is the one who plays loudest and highest. If you talk to a trumpet player during a break, he might confess that his favorite player is Maynard Ferguson, the merciless God of loud-high trumpeting.

Guitar:
Jazz guitarists are never very happy. Deep inside they want to be rock stars, but they're old and overweight. In protest,they wear their hair long, prowl for groupies, drink a lot, and play too loud. Guitarists hate piano players because they can hit ten notes at once, but guitarists make up for it by playing as fast as they can. The more a guitarist drinks, the higher he turns his amp. Then the drummer starts to play harder, and the trumpeter dips into his loud/high arsenal. Suddenly, the saxophonist's universe crumbles, because he is no longer the most important player on stage. He packs up his horn, nicks his best reed in haste, and storms out of the room. The pianist struggles to suppress a laugh. If you talk to a guitarist during the break he'll ask intimate questions about your 14-year-old sister.

Vocals:
Vocalists are whimsical creations of the all-powerful jazz gods. They are placed in sessions to test musicians' capacity for suffering. They are not of the jazz world, but enter it surreptitiously. Example: A young woman is playing minor roles in college musical theater. One day, a misguided campus newspaper critic describes her singing as "...jazzy." Viola! A star is born! Quickly she learns "My Funny Valentine," "Summertime," and "Route 66." Her training complete, she embarks on a campaign of musical terrorism. Musicians flee from the bandstand as she approaches. Those who must remain feel the full fury of the jazz universe. The vocalist will try to seduce you, and the rest of the audience by making eye contact, acknowledging your presence, even talking to you between tunes. DO NOT FALL INTO THIS TRAP!  Look away, make your distaste obvious. Otherwise the musicians will avoid you during their breaks. Incidentally, if you talk to a vocalist during a break, she will introduce you to her "manager."

Trombone:
The trombone is known for its pleading, voice-like quality."Listen," it seems to say in the male tenor range, "Why won't anybody hire me for a gig?" Trombonists like to play fast, because their notes become indistinguishable and thus immune to criticism. Most trombonists played trumpet in their early years, then decided they didn't want to walk around with a strange indentation on their lips. Now they hate trumpet players, who somehow get all the women despite this disfigurement. Trombonists are usually tall and lean, with forlorn faces. They don't eat much. They have to be very friendly, because nobody really needs a trombonist. Talk to a trombonist during a break and he'll ask you for a gig, try to sell you insurance, or offer to mow your lawn.

Picking the Tune
Every time a tune ends, someone has to pick a new one. T hat's a fundamental concept that, unfortunately, runs at odds with jazz group processes. Tune selection makes a huge difference to the musicians. They love to show off on tunes that feel comfortable, and they tremble at the threat of the unknown. But to pick a tune is to invite close scrutiny: "So this is how you sound at your best. Hmm..." It's a complex issue with unpredictable outcomes. Sometimes no one wants to pick a tune, and sometimes everyone wants to pick a tune. The resulting disagreements lead to faction-building and  under extreme conditions, even impromptu elections. The politics of tune selection makes for some of the session's best entertainment.

Example 1: No one wants to pick a tune

Example 2: Everyone wants to pick a tune, resulting in impromptu election and eventual tune selection

• (Previous tune ends.)
• (Pianist and guitarist simultaneously): "Beautiful Love!"/"Donna Lee!"
• Guitarist to pianist: "You just want to play your fat, stupid ten-note chords!"
• Pianist to guitarist: "You just want to play a lot of notes really fast!"
• Saxophonist : "'Giant Steps'." (A treacherous Coltrane tune practiced obsessively by saxophonists.)
• Guitarist and pianist (together): "Go ahead, asshole."
• Trumpet player: "This crap is lame. 'Night in Tunisia'." (A Dizzy Gillespie tune offering bounteous opportunities for loud, high playing.)
• Saxophonist: "Sorry, forgot my earplugs, Maynard."
• (Long, awkward silence)
• Pianist, guitarist, saxophonist, trumpet player all turn to drummer:"Your turn, Skinhead."
• (Drummer pauses to think of hardest possible tune; a time-tested drummer ploy to punish real musicians who play actual notes.)
• Drummer: "Stablemates."
• Trumpet player: Screw this! I'm outta here." (Storms out of room.)
• (Bartender chases after him.)

Not only are these disagreements fun to watch; they create tensions that will last all through the night.

(As an educated audience member, you might want to keep a flow chart diagramming the shifting alliances. You can also keep statistics on individual tune-calling. Under no circumstances, though, should you take sides or yell out song titles. Things are complicated enough already.)

From www.jazzatnite.com

So I finally got internet at last. I should have updated my blog earlier, but kept putting it off (as usual). Been quite busy with college - I've finished my Foundation and am now starting my degree program. I found out that my college has this really stupid inconvenient ruling where students from the BMus program and Berklee Transfer program (BTP) are to be in separate ensembles. The college claims that it's not their idea and that they just are carrying out orders from 'somewhere else'. So this semester, there is a Rock ensemble and a Jazz ensemble. The BTP students get to choose either Rock or Jazz; however for us BMus students, since we are not allowed to mix with BTP students, we are all dumped placed in the Rock ensemble. The BTP students doing Rock get their own separate ensemble, so at the end of the semester we will have two Rock recitals and a Jazz recital. Does it make sense to you? Well apparently for the '5th floor' (ICOM's administration), it does.

So, yours truly, the sole horn player in ICOM, is not allowed to join the Jazz ensemble, because someone either in Berklee, Woverhampton University or '5th floor' decided that it would be detrimental to the BTP students if they mix with us BMus students. And it so happens that Eric Li, one of KL's most happening jazz /latin pianists, is tutoring the Jazz ensemble. So all the best stuff is reserved for BTP students (even though we BMus students pay more).

Maybe that someone who came up with this idea thinks that somehow we are a deadly virus who will taint and lower the playing abilities of the BTP students if we mix with them (even though we pay more). And then Berklee will complain about the standard of the intake from ICOM, and since we BMus students are of lower standard (because we are not going to Berklee), we must be the villains because we are playing in the same ensembles as the BTP students. So, someone decides that the only way to correct this problem is to isolate the BTP students, give them the best possible education, and let the BMus students rot elsewhere (even though we pay more).

As a result, yours truly who listens to the music of Clifford Brown, Miles Davis, Paquito D'Rivera, Oscar Peterson, Art Blakey, Benny Golson, Bill Charlap, the Brecker Brothers, Cannonball Adderley, Chick Corea, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Keith Jarrett, Arturo Sandoval, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Turtle Island String Quartet, Jean-Luc Ponty, Glenn Miller, Eddie Daniels, John Coltrane, Dave Brubeck, Dexter Gordon, Gene Ammons, Gary Burton, Eric Marienthal, Freddie Hubbard, Thelonious Monk, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Stanley Turrentine, Herbie Hancock, Horace Silver, James Moody, James Morrison (the aussie jazzer), Joshua Redman, Kenny Garrett, Lee Ritenour, Marcus Miller, Michel Camilo, Paul Desmond, the MJQ, Roy Hargrove, Sonny Stitt, Stan Getz, Wes Montgomery, Barney Kessel etc etc etc...

...is not allowed to join the Jazz ensemble. Therefore, he HAS to join the Rock ensemble. Playing the saxophone and clarinet. The very fact that there is a clarinet in the Rock ensemble probably entitles it to Fusion status. And to think I came all the way to KL to learn jazz. I'm paying a bloody lot of money for this and I can't even choose my own ensemble.

And the '5th floor' doesn't care about the students and just wants to make more money claims that it's out of their hands and nothing can be done about it. So folks, come along and watch yours truly play rock with his clarinet. How does that sound?

I feel like throwing rocks at certain people.




Disclaimer: I have nothing against BTP students, many of them are good friends of mine.

No internet at home, no blogging. Sad, there's so much to blog about.

As a musician playing an unknown instrument (relatively) in a country which doesn't respect musicians enough, I've had my fair share of run-ins with the Hand of the Law, primarily the Customs guys (sorry Agan). For example, I have to go all the way to the parcel office to collect my new Clark Fobes clarinet barrel, which like most useful places in Malaysia is in the middle of nowhere. I then have to produce my IC, double sign documents, and be led at gunpoint to the Customs office and open at gunpoint the package just to prove it's not an object that would disrupt national harmony and incite feelings of hatred and strife. If that wasn't enough I had to do it in front of a Customs officer and his parcel office friend who were sniggering away and having fun with my unease at the whole situation (and probably my lack of understanding of the Chinese language). I then had to answer a whole set of pointless questions from Mr sniggering-Customs-officer about how I play my instrument, how much it costs, how much I would get paid in an orchestra, and whether getting a music degree meant I get paid more. Thankfully in the end they let me go without me having to pay any import duty or rasuah. Well at least I made their day.

I am not spared at the airport either. I've been stopped many times at the x-ray scanner thingy and have a clarinet stand mistaken for a pair of scissors (after multiple scannings), my clarinet joints mistaken for dynamite sticks, and been asked if there are any secret compartments in my clarinet case (man I wish it did). But I've never had anything confiscated, until today, which ironically had nothing to do with my instruments. So this Customs lady picks out my Nivea for Men deodorant, points at the little 'inflammable' sign on it, and chucks it into the rubbish bin. Right, I can imagine the headlines: "MAS flight forced to make emergency landing after catastrophic fire onboard caused by deodorant can."

Last Wednesday I finally did something useful during my holiday here in Kuching. My cousin asked me whether I would be interested in taking part in The Amazing Coverage Race with Hotlink (what a mouthful...) as a marshal. Unlike the 'real' Amazing Race, where you get to go all over the world, in this version the participants only go from Kuching to Sibu. And since it's organised by Hotlink, the participants comprised members of the media and Hotlink dealers only. The main purpose of the race was to show off the fact that Maxis/Hotlink had FULL COVERAGE along the Kuching-Sri Aman-Sibu 'highway'. So for 400km all along the road you will see this.



Of course, here in Malaysia we like to give big names to everything. So the 'highway' in Sarawak actually looks like this:



And that is only at the good sections. At other sections it looks more like this:



Not to worry though; even if your car breaks down/tayar pancet etc, you still have liputan jelas from Hotlink to call for help! Too bad for Celcom and Digi subscribers though. Maybe the yellow guy will come and help you.

Since there wasn't any Phil Keoghan/Allan Wu host, they had marshals at all the stops to hand out the clues and make sure the participants didn't cheat. And since it is a Hotlink-promo event, the participants had to complete tasks such as photograph themselves at the pit stop and MMS to the organisers, record themselves singing Negaraku and MMS to the organisers, solve a riddle, write the answer down on the Hotlink paper provided, photograph the answer and MMS to the organizers, buy a Hotlink starter pack, register the number and SMS the organisers etc etc you get the picture. And just in case none of the team members had phones with camera and MMS capabilities, each team was provided with a Nokia N95 demo phone. People complain about product placement in the original Amazing Race; well at least they had variations to the products advertised.

My assigned stop, the Layar rest stop, was unique in more than one way. For example, it did not involve any SMS/MMS tasks. It was also in the middle of nowhere.





It was probably one of the easiest tasks too - we had to supervise the teams as they ate... bananas.





And even though the stop was somewhere between Sri Aman and Sarikei (ie nowhere), masih ada liputan jelas!



Since the crew had to set up at every stop, we left about 2 hours before the race started (which kicked off late as well). Figuring we had enough time on our hands, we took our time, even stopping to take photos along the way.



This apparently is the highest point along the 'highway'. And no that isn't our pickup truck, we had very nice and powerful Ford Rangers.

Even though we had a head start, the participants really gained ground on us, to the point that the leading team arrived at the last stop just 10 minutes after the crew had set up. So much for our extra 2 hours. Have you ever seen a Perodua Rusa drive at 140km/h on our little 'highway'? And our poor photographer, who started along with the participants in his Proton Waja, at the end of the day was 3 teams behind, beaten by two Avanzas and the Rusa. Ironically, the team with the Pajero finished last. But then again for the prizes on offer, it wasn't surprising to see why they were all in such a hurry:

1st prize - Acer notebook for each team member (4 persons)
2nd prize - Home entertainment systems
3rd prize - Nokia N77 phones
4th prize - Sony PSPs
5th prize - iPod nanos
6th, 7th, 8th prize - Sony DVD players

I wonder though what would Hotlink vendors and journalists do with a PSP?

Spain beat Italy. Something they haven't done for 88 years.

"The country that gave us Don Quijote," writes Jorge Valdano (of shit hanging from a stick in Anfield fame), "now sees that those Italians are not giants at all but windmills."

What a brilliant line.

So passes my birthday. No elaborate self-indulgence this time. Anyway, thanks for all the wishes, hugs, handshakes, Facebook wall posts, cbox messages, text messages, ice-cream, milkshakes, clarinet mouthpieces, surprise party/cake/card. Though i may not show it in person they meant a lot to me.

So Euro 2008 is going on now. Not that I'm overly fanatical about it to the point of watching every single game; just from the quarterfinals and maybe a few of the better group stages will do it for me. From the look of things Portugal and Holland have a good chance, Spain have been playing well (and Valencia steadily raising David Villa's price tag) but their defence looks shaky at times. Doesn't help that they are meeting Italy, and everyone knows that the Spanish hate the Italians. Not only on the international front, but at club level as well.

Back here in Kuching, David actually tried playing football last Sunday. 6 months of McDonalds, mamak and DotA has taken its toll. Poor first touch, wayward passing, lack of awareness, huffing and puffing after 15 mins, etc etc... Enough said. And it's only futsal.

Anyway, some interesting trivia: if you're a Dutch player and you're late for training, the next day you have to tell a joke at breakfast. If its not funny, you tell another. If that isn't funny either you tell yet another. And of course to help you out your teammates try to hold their giggles for as long as possible. Apparently most of the team brought a joke book along to the competition. Maybe that's why they're playing so well.