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abortive downtempo 4

by sonja berlin-jones

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TUESDAY 11 DECEMBER 2012

The best thing about hyperminimal music is that you can chop off the boring beginning and you are still left with a meaty chew to suck on. This one started off boring. But that was easily cured. I doubled its length and then chopped off the first quarter. And the last quarter too of course. With Christmas approaching it is time to start thinking about charities. I thought about them this morning as I was coming out of Asda and got into a tangle with an aggressive chugger.

I get very sanctimonious when talking about why I don't give to charities. We ought to be living in a country where charities aren't needed. But also - I have worked for four charities so far and every one has been corrupt. Every one has contained employees who got the sack for stealing money. I worked in the Rose Road charity shop in Totton. Valuable donations were sold on ebay - and the manageress and one of the volunteers would take a cut.

I tried to blow the whistle on the corruption going on there - but no one loves a whistle-blower - whistle-blowers rock the boat - all the shits in an organisation stick together. They don't want their cushy routine to be upset. When known shoplifters came into the shop the manageress used to disappear out the back and let them help themselves. It was an understanding they all had. When I got into a row with one bunch of shoplifters, I was the one who had to go. And I did go.

One person can't fight against a cemented-together organisation of uselessness and selfishness and greed. And fuck, was Rose Road useless. Top-heavy with slow-motion salaried employees arranging constant pointless meetings to discuss the colour of the lines out in the car park.

I was reminded of all this after this morning's encounter with the arrogant chugger - and also with all the news about the nurse who committed suicide a few days ago. In these new exciting times when everyone has several "careers" in their lifetime - everyone will have the misfortune to work for at least one cunty organisation. It seems that Jacintha was working for an unsupportive bunch of cunts.

It was hardly likely that a three-word conversation with a couple of Australian DJs pushed her over the edge. Almost certainly, it was the blame-game after the phone-call. The way human beings like to clog together and pick on a target. I hear the DJs crying and apologising. No no no - your bosses are the guilty ones - and they too are hiding behind you.

It's the same in radio stations and hospitals and charities and governments - everywhere. This is why I shall always be an outsider. Whenever people clog together in smug little communities they're always the cuntiest members of the human race.

I don't believe it is possible to be a true "outsider artist" if you are self-aware enough to use the term yourself. It's a bit like describing yourself as an eccentric. All the people who say they are eccentric are usually the most boring uneccentric people on the planet.

So I'm not an outsider artist. But I'm certainly not inside. I love this piece of music, though it only gets beautiful near the end. It will ensure that I will remain outside. Maybe listening to it will push you over the edge. Am I meant to feel guilty if it drives you to suicide ?



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released December 11, 2012

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sonja berlin-jones Southampton, UK

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