Music For Small Audiences

I was fortunate to be able to get back through Canada for a visit in recent weeks. It was energising to spend some quality time with family and friends, and of course no visit to Toronto would be complete without a proper record playing session. The day itself was sunny and comfortably warm. Friday of a long weekend, with a clear schedule, a place downtown ready for the evening, speakers and equipment sorted, and a tight knit crew en route in time for sunset. All set, all ready to go, just needed to get there. Easy train in from the suburbs. But while the bigger bits of travel had all come off without a hitch, the hardest part of the whole trip, it turned out, was finding my way out of Bloor Station – a task made harder as a result of at least one poor decision on my part. Who knew train stations could be so convoluted? There is of course a particular satisfaction in escaping from a trap of one’s own making. Happy to see the light indeed. This is episode 128 of Music For Small Audiences. Recorded live through the evening hours on a warm summer evening, it captures a two and a half hour musical show-and-tell session among good friends with plenty to celebrate.

Alex arrived at our school in year 11. We clocked the Nitzer Ebb T-shirt before we clocked anything else about him, which told us most of what we needed to know about his taste in music. We made a point of introductions, and became good friends quickly. Some time later the two of us sat at a piano together, working out a little riff we had come up with. The whole thing turned on a single note, an alternation between major and minor over the same tonic, with the root and fifth holding steady. It sounded uncomfortable, with a bit of chromatic friction. He loved it immediately, and while it troubled me at first it grew on me. You could hear, in the space of one semitone, just how much emotion and energy can shift. It is remarkable how little it takes to change the whole feeling of a thing. A short break, pause or shift (even if just a semitone) is often enough to recharge, reset, and re-release for the moment ahead. Yes, things are difficult at times, but nothing is forever. Enjoy it if you can, endure it if you must. This is episode 127 of Music For Small Audiences. Recorded live on an Australian winter evening the weekend before a midweek getaway to tropical Queensland, it provides alternating slices of major and minor key energy as befits the mood of the day. Tracks include some of Argentina’s finest, along with a few quality works from local Melbourne legends.

The weather here in Melbourne ground to a halt this past week. As the news put it, a blocking high parked itself in the Tasman Sea, and according to the forecasters it intends to stay there for a few more days yet. Some inland towns have been looking at the same temperature for seven days running. The sky, for the moment, has decided it has nothing further to add. It has been an interesting few months. A motorcycle ride around Tasmania with my good friend Jason retraced a trip we did more than twenty years ago, while a weekend in Adelaide with Andrew gave a chance to see Marsh play a very cool free laneway set. A very warm Easter in the tropics with family (and similarly stopped weather) rounded out early autumn, providing a great sense of connection. My mother spoke often about travel as a kind of slow-release lesson in personal growth, and about how the fun parts and the harder parts both had something important to teach. This is episode 126 of Music For Small Audiences. It was recorded live the week before Easter, and I have been road testing it in the weeks since. Bit of a delay getting this one uploaded, in line with finding time between work and personal priorities, but I think it sits well. One of the gentler privileges of releasing infrequently is the freedom to release when the mix is ready, rather than when the calendar insists. Appreciate your patience, and hope you enjoy.  

The Australian summer is here, and with it has come a series of getaways with friends and family – some just a weekend, some a few days longer. It can be hard to squeeze both fun and relaxation into the same trip, particularly when one seems to spend as much time planning and packing as on the trip itself. Thankfully, the more often we do it, the better we get. Preparation is a funny thing. It’s easy to put off, particularly when there are more fun things to do – and whether it’s the night before heading off or the last night before heading home, the liminal energy of the moment doesn’t always lend itself to careful administrative attention. Yet taking those few extra minutes to really dial things in can make a world of difference. As the holiday period fades and the real work returns, the principle remains – preparation is easy to intend, but hard in the moment to consistently do.    

We are a few days away from the first day of summer here in Australia as I write this, and while the real summer weather hasn’t arrived yet, there’s already a looseness in the air. As for me, I’m enjoying catching up with friends and family, getting a bit of fresh air, and settling back into something like normalcy after a few years of balancing study alongside everything else. This is episode 124 of Music For Small Audiences, and as a whole it’s a fair reflection of what I’ve been playing over the past 20+ years. Recorded live on a recent Saturday night, the mix is laid back and groove-driven, and kicks off with a trio of twenty-year-old tunes. While largely instrumental, the lyrics that do appear speak to themes I return to often – impermanence, introspection, continuity, the complexity of separating thought from feeling, and the small salvation of the commitment-free weekend.

For the past eighteen months I’ve been balancing a fair bit of study alongside fulltime work and daily existence. It has been a wild, life-changing ride. With nine modules down and one to go, the finish line is now in sight. With a rush and a push I am now getting my head around the last three subjects of thirty – hoping to make the most of this last intensive session, without taking anything for granted until done is done. As befits my current state of mind there’s plenty of energy in this extended mix. Recorded late at night just before my recent trip to Berkeley, California in support of said study, it features a number of high quality alternate remixes of time-tested tunes that some of you will surely recognise, along with plenty of great new stuff from Melbourne and beyond.

There is a saying in Germany – Man sieht sich immer zweimal im Leben – that has baked into it a delightful ambiguity. Functioning simultaneously as both wistful sentiment and subtle warning, it acknowledges that goodbyes rarely mean forever. It speaks to the interconnectedness of social relationships, and of the cyclical nature of life. Whether you’ve enjoyed someone’s company and feel they’re leaving too soon, or you feel that they’ve wronged you (and that you might welcome a future opportunity to settle the score), this expression reminds us not to assume any departure is permanent. I must admit I’m not entirely certain how our German host meant it, but as the saying itself suggests, time will tell. This is Episode 122 of Music For Small Audiences. As befits the title and writeup, it contains a few references to prior episodes, themes and epochs, as well as a few refreshed takes on some timeless classics. There is of course a whole bunch of groovy new stuff mixed in too. Wherever you are on the cycle of hello, goodbye, and oh hey, I hope it brings you peace, resilience and joy.  

I read somewhere recently that ‘strategy is what you say no to’. We can’t be all things to all people, and we can’t take advantage of every opportunity that comes along. Time, money, and energy are all limited resources. And so it seems reasonable to not expend any of them moving in a direction we don’t want to go. That said, it’s also too easy to slip into the habit of ‘just this once’ – and to be seduced by the power of marginal thinking that leads us to take individually justifiable actions in the short term that are in opposition to our longer term interests. After all, no single raindrop believes it is responsible for the flood, right? This is episode 121 of Music For Small Audiences. It was recorded in the leadup to a trip I’m really looking forward to – a weeklong study exchange in Germany, coming at a very interesting time for future European historians to consider. The mix has been put together as the soundtrack to that multinational voyage, which begins in a few days.

The Australian summer holiday period is winding to a close, and Melbourne is slowly gearing back up into its normal urban pace after a very sleepy four week period. While it can be difficult to unwind after a fast-paced year, it can be just as difficult getting the mind body and spirit back up to speed again after a few weeks of lazy self-indulgence. Can’t say I’m completely there yet, but the motor is at least running. Much as I envy those who can easily nap during the day – falling asleep quickly, and then jolting back into action on waking – I envy those who are able to dial it up and down from work to relaxion quickly when circumstances suggest. Perhaps the skill to develop is just that. Lots to work on in this regard. This is episode 120 of Music For Small Audiences. It was recorded early in the new year, on a decidedly relaxed summer evening. There is a fair bit of high quality made-in-Melbourne progressive house in here too (including the intro track) – so much good stuff coming out of Melbourne these days. Enjoy!

I have recently returned from a fair bit of solo travel that included time with friends, family, and some study. There is something special about travelling alone that is uniquely thought provoking. I am reminded of a quote that I’m not able to determine the provenance of but that has long rattled around my head – ‘there is no loneliness quite like the loneliness of a long drive home late at night, having visited worlds that no one else will ever know.’ I’m confident the same can be said of a long overnight flight returning home, too. This mix was recorded live in Vancouver on the first weekend of the trip at my good friend Dan’s groovy inner city pad. It carries throughout a couple of relevant thematic elements, and served as my soundtrack for the rest of the journey. With a DJ booth facing the outdoor terrace, and the terrace offering an elevated view of Gastown, Chinatown and surrounds with all of its urban grit and energy, Dan’s place was a really fun space to catch up with friends and reconnect.

I played a really fun house party gig in the inner west last night, sharing the controls with two very good friends. We’ve played a lot of gigs together over the years, from sharing residencies here in Melbourne nearly twenty years ago through to countless club gigs, parties and get-togethers in all sorts of interesting places with many lovely people over the years in between. A good gig remains equal parts energising and cathartic. It’s amazing to reflect on just how quickly twenty years can go by – and who we have each become in the process. Somewhere along the way we’ve each turned into actual adults. Hard to say where or when it happened, even with the benefit of hindsight. Thankfully, we have stayed connected to each other, and I’d like to think we’ve stayed true to ourselves. While we’re each indubitably twenty years older than we were twenty years ago, and we’ve each added a few wrinkles and grey hairs since those heady nights of the noughties, nights like last night really reinforce the power and importance of enduring good friendships. It’s also a friendly reminder of just how timeless shared musical bonds can be. While it’s true that many of the ‘old school classics’ we played last night were our up front and fresh new catches twenty years ago, it also goes to show that a good tune is a good tune is a good tune. As the old John Digweed saying goes, the only thing that matters is what comes out of the speakers. This is episode 118 of MFSA. There is some sensational music contained within, including a couple of bits of wax that I had been checking the post for regularly prior to their arrival. Enjoy.

I celebrated a milestone recently. To mark the occasion, we spent a few days in sunny Brisbane. While it wasn’t a long trip, it was a relaxing trip, and an inspiring one, too. In such a context it is hard not to reflect with some depth on one’s mortality and one’s time and place in the world. Thankfully, the trip involved plenty of walking, plenty of time in nature, plenty of time in the ocean, and plenty of time doing not-very-much. Good for the soul, I suspect. This is episode 117 of Music For Small Audiences. Recorded live the weekend before the trip, it’s a laid back look at some of the more reflective music in my collection, including a few modern takes on some classics, and a few groovy tunes that have been stuck in my head for weeks. It builds from a gentle start, and is exactly the sort of set I’d play for a lazy late-afternoon-into-early-evening subtropical sunset poolside get together. Enjoy.  

Sometimes it’s important to play to your strengths. Sometimes it’s important to work on your weaknesses. For some reason the former always sounds much more appealing than the latter. After a nearly ten year break, I have returned to study. I am hoping some of the topics covered will be within my existing areas of knowledge. At the same time, I both look forward to and fear the parts that are at the moment completely foreign to me. Time will tell I suppose. This is the 116th installment of Music For Small Audiences. At just under four hours, it was recorded live on March 2024. As befits my current headspace, it contains within at least one unveiled reference to the connection between effort and reward. As always, perspective is everything. I hope you enjoy.

Never trust a thought that occurs indoors, the saying goes. We are into the final third of summer here in Australia, and at the risk of tempting the sun gods, I daresay the weather has started to stabilise – as far as Melbourne weather ever does, anyways. The combination of pleasant weather and still-long-enough evenings makes for plenty of time to be outdoors and introspective, while the ever-shortening days also serve as a reminder that soon enough we’ll be back to heaters and scarves. Some quality tunes in this one. I hope you enjoy.

As the year comes to a close, it seems natural to reflect on the year that has passed, and where it has taken us. Are we where we intended to be? Where we wanted to be? Or are we somewhere else, somewhere better defined as the logical destination given the decisions we made over the course of the year? So I suppose too that it’s natural to cast a critical eye to the year ahead. What needs to change – and what needs to continue – if we are to hit closer to the mark of optimistic intent, come twelve months from now? As always, the answer (for me at least) lies in balancing the needs and wants of those two eternally uneasy acquaintances – my present and future self. In line with the spirit of reflection and relaxation that is generally intended to accompany one’s summer holiday, this is an extended, exploratory mix. In its latter half it has a number of modern takes on some timeless clubland classics that I hope spark some positive nostalgic memories for you as they do for me. Enjoy, and here’s to our 2024.

I have recently returned from a few weeks in Canada. The trip included a weekend with some very good friends, during which I was lucky enough to be given the opportunity to play an extended set on what is probably my favourite pair of speakers in the world. Set up well in a great sounding loft conversion in Toronto’s inner west, it was a chance to reconnect, recharge, and recycle the same stories that seem to get funnier each time they are told. This is the live recording of the set that I played on that Friday night a few weeks ago. It includes a few of the vinyl records I took as gifts, a record I was given in return, a few classics both original and reworked, and a lot of the music that kept me company on the 32,000km round trip. As always, good friends with good records makes for a good weekend indeed.

I’ve long been intrigued by the end user experience of modern medicine, and what can at times feel to the layperson like a focus on only fixing what is broken. If we are unwell past a certain arbitrary threshold, we receive medical intervention until we are back to baseline. We heal, we rehabilitate, we repair, and we focus on eliminating the negative to bring things back to where they should be, wherever ‘should’ is, and that’s it. If the symptoms aren’t serious enough to warrant intervention, we ride them out. But there is an argument to be made that health – both physical and mental – exists on a continuum. At any given moment we’re neither well nor unwell, but somewhere in between, doing the best we can. As such, we take in stride the odd intermittent symptom or mood that shows up while we are trying to get through the day in one piece. In that regard, I reckon both Seal and Gnarls Barkley had it right with their take on things – that we’re all a bit not-quite-right at times, just to varying degrees. This is Episode 112 of Music For Small Audiences. Recorded a few days ago on the last weekend of the southern winter, it leans heavily on a few bits of vinyl that have recently arrived in the post, and contains much of the music that has been keeping my boat afloat in recent weeks.

Much has been said about the importance of time management. When time is tight and competing priorities overlap, it can be easy to succumb to a sense of guilt that things may be missed or not prioritised appropriately. I had a bit of an epiphany from an article I read a few years ago – a lightbulb moment after years of reflecting on how to best manage my time, where I realised that it was just as much my energy that I needed to better manage. Doing stuff is hard, and is made harder by not being in the right headspace for the task or project at hand. Determining what needs to be done against both objective priority and in-the-moment capacity is as much art as it is science, and the reality of knowledge work is that there is never enough time or energy to get everything done to the standard it deserves. Sometimes all we can do is work to the moment as best we can, and hope we are leaving the right things undone.

Negativity can be seductive. As we get older, our awareness seems to build about just how much can go wrong at any given moment – personally, professionally, geopolitically, economically, and physically. It’s easy to be fearful, and the more acutely aware we are of the worst case scenario, the more tempting it can be to jump at shadows or assume the worst. Having taken a month long break from running on account of a strange feeling in my left knee, it was a huge relief to get back out in recent days to find the pain gone. The last time I had an issue with my knee I ended up needing surgery, and so the wave of optimism I felt with the realisation I was back on track was palpable. On an administrative note, I’ve recently updated a few back end settings on my podcast feed. If you have found this episode in your subscription alongside the previous episodes and are none the wiser as to this change, then I have set things up correctly! If you have had to unsubscribe and resubscribe, or if previous episodes are not showing up prior to this one, then my apologies, I’ll keep on it. As always, every episode of MFSA is available for streaming and direct download in high quality MP3 format at mbelleghem.com. Thanks for sticking with me.

We all have our idiosyncrasies. Two of mine are closely related, in that I love a good quotation, and I am a sucker for a good cliché. In both cases, I like to think of them as bits of distilled wisdom that have stood the test of time. But as Abraham Lincoln once dryly noted, the problem with looking up old quotes on the internet is that you can never be too sure if they have been attributed correctly. With that said, it has been a really interesting couple of weeks, both for me and for some of those I am closest to. For some, new beginnings and new hope. For others, closure and completion after a period of turbulence and difficulty. It is a strange thing to see so much change clustered around the late April and early May period. As Alexander Graham Bell may or may not have opined, when one door closes, another one opens. This is Episode 109 of Music For Small Audiences. An extended set, it evolves over a series of distinctly different phases, each with its own energy and emotional content. I hope you enjoy.

A commonly accepted definition of sustainability is the ability to meet the needs of the present without compromising the needs of the future. So how then to make a future worth waiting for, without shortchanging our ability to fully seize the present moment? There are many tradeoffs and worse in daily life as we try to ensure that today is OK while not robbing ourselves of tomorrow. Stay up late or get up early? Smash the fun button, or play it safe? Keep your eye on the prize, or sit back and enjoy the spectacle? Focus on the destination, or enjoy the ride? Recent weeks have given me a newly refreshed appreciation for both sides of that balancing act – leading in turn to the inevitable question, why not both?

The summer holiday period is drawing to a close here in Australia, and we have just come back from a few weeks travelling through New Zealand’s South Island. The landscape is extraordinary to the point of being mind expanding, and every day was a reminder of just how beautiful the world can be. We were fortunate to have had excellent weather, meaning plenty of time to hike and bike and further explore a very special corner of the world. Travel is often an opportunity for personal growth. In this case it also provided a catalyst for a bit of longer term, whole life planning and reflection. Thinking at these longer time horizons leads to some existential reflection, and the realisation when trying to talk it out that not every emotion has a name. As the old Hans Christian Andersen quote goes – and with due credit to Eelke Kleijn who duly reminds us at the start of each of his podcast episodes – where words fail, music speaks. This is episode 107 of Music For Small Audiences. It was recorded live just a few hours before Santa’s anticipated arrival down the proverbial chimney on Christmas Eve, marking the first day of my summer holiday break. It has some very new tunes, some timeless classics, and some very new reworks of some even older timeless classics. As befits a proper end of year celebration it is again an extended affair, best enjoyed wherever you happen to be.

There is something exciting about covering new ground. The transition from known to unknown brings with it a sense of renewal and energy, and it can be quite fun to explore that little bit further, and to cover a little bit of new ground at the edge of a previously understood boundary. One of the things I quite like about Melbourne is the quiet sense of perpetual renewal I feel when exploring it. While the city’s infrastructure is not perfect, it gets incrementally better each year. The paths get a little bit wider and more clearly marked, the streetscapes and amenities are refreshed and the structures and signage are rebuilt, meaning that even familiar territory is constantly evolving. Sometimes when I’m out on foot on one of my usual routes, I even find a well-worn path has a new addition at the end of it – adding a little bit of unknown at the end of a well-trodden familiarity. New can be challenging, but new can also be invigorating.

It has been an unusual weekend. It has been an unusual year. Springtime in Melbourne often brings a bit of rain. With another La Nina apparently on the horizon, we have seen quite a bit of rain already. So much so, in fact, that it has exposed the failings of our second story roof drainage system. Not a fun way to spend the weekend. While there is plenty of truth in the old adage that if you want something done right you have to do it yourself, there is an added element of excitement and uncertainty when the task involved requires working at heights. Even still, if 2022 has taught me anything, it has taught me that life is short. As such, there is a balance to be struck between getting things done and staying alive. The joys of home ownership indeed. This is episode 105 of Music For Small Audiences. It was recorded live the evening of a belated birthday celebration, and at four hours and twenty two minutes long, it represents a bit of a catching up with regards to some of the music I have been enjoying in recent times. Having spent a few months overseas this year the episodes have come a bit more slowly, but the good news is that the travels have introduced me to some fantastic new tunes, some of which are here, and some of which I will be showcasing in the episodes to come.

Winter has arrived in Melbourne. To me that means short days, falling leaves, and the occasional smell of a wood stove across the city at night. It can be easy at this time of year to withdraw a little bit, to bunker down and count the days off until warmer weather returns. Of course winter here means summer somewhere else. As is the case with many things, where one is experiencing the sunset, another is experiencing the sunrise. Nothing lasts forever, and we all get only as long as we get. Soon enough the winds change, the cycle repeats and things begin anew. This is Episode 104 of Music For Small Audiences. It was recorded on a lovely winter evening in warm surrounds.

Coordinating travel, as with coordinating a lot of things these days, involves a lot of time waiting on hold on the telephone. As such, I am becoming something of a hold music aficionado. On many recent calls the music has been punctuated with a repetitive series of apologies explaining that, due to the pandemic, hold times are longer than they might otherwise be. If the past two years have taught me anything, it is the extent to which a pandemic involves an awful lot of waiting, and more than a few apologies. For more than two years, it has felt that relationships with friends and family overseas have been on hold. As such it was great to reconnect during a recent return trip to Canada, and to spend some quality time with loved ones. While telephone and video connections are valuable, they do not fully replace the magic of real human connection.

As I grew up my two older sisters were a constant source of musical guidance and inspiration, taking me to concerts, bringing me records from overseas school trips and keeping me up to speed on the hottest bands across the genre that was then called New Wave. Throughout our early years growing up in suburban Toronto, one radio station in particular was held high as the mythical point source from which all good music came. That station was CFNY, 102.1 FM. Following on from high school some years later, I managed to convince a local synthesizer shop to give me a job in sales. The shop owner became a dear friend, and the shop was quite popular with local dance music makers, in part because of the owners incredible collection of vintage synths. Channeling my paternally inherited passion for all things beeping and flashing, I got quite into learning every bit of gear I could get my hands on, with my mother eternally patient while an endless parade of boxes, wires and devices began to take over more and more rooms of our house. As luck would have it, one day the Roland product rep called, asking if I could demo their new DJ oriented stereo sampler to one of CFNYs on air crew, by bringing it to demo live on air during their midnight to 6AM weekend dance music broadcasts. At a time when the Toronto rave scene was exploding and so many new genres emerging, there was no shortage of amazing music to be played each week. To make a long story short the experience up close was eye opening. In the process I learned a lot about how to build and shape a six hour set through the wee hours to sunrise. This is episode 102 of Music For Small Audiences. A suitably extended set, it reflects to me the free spirit and genre exploration of those all night radio broadcast sets thirty years ago.

Ah yes, life in a pandemic. I suppose every now and then life throws up a bit of turbulence, and so this is our time. But what is the difference between flying and falling, really? There are some parallels shared with the difference between drowning and waving. Beyond that, falling also carries with it a sense of inevitability, of a ballistic trajectory, of a future impact. No wonder that dreams of falling are so common, or so confronting. At a time when friends and family can feel so very far away, and as humanity fights a pitched battle with the everchanging swathe of infectious agents that seem so determined to further postpone our return to normality, who knows what lies ahead, or what comes next? Sometimes the best one can hope for is a soft landing.

As I write this I am just over three hundred kilometres from home. May not sound like much, but after an extended pandemic and all of the restrictions that come with, even a little bit of travel is a really big deal. The past few weeks have been a reawakening of sorts. Social reconnections, the relaxation of restrictions, and a new sense of freedom and possibility for space and place. Seeing old friends in person again. Travelling to the places that we had always meant to see. Revisiting the places that we have been away from for far too long. Meeting new people. Booking overseas travel, and planning new adventures abroad. Hard to believe this is the furthest I have been from home in more than two years. This is of course episode 100 of Music For Small Audiences. It was recorded in one take a few weeks ago on the first weekend of social reconnection after many months apart. A special double length set filled with sparkling musical gems, it celebrates both the recent reconnections with friends and family close by, and the promise of seeing again those who we have been away from for far too long. As befits the context, it has more than a few nods to musical memories of years gone by. As a mix it is a fairly stretched out, groove driven affair, perfect for popping onto the hifi in the background while reconnecting with your own friends and family.

Whether we are talking about social gatherings or impending natural disasters, there comes a point at which leaving is no longer an option. A point when, to paraphrase an old movie quote, there can be no turning back, and there is no choice but to ride it out. Whether bunkering down or busting a move, once the decision to stay is made, the die has been cast. Once those present have made the commitment to stick it out and see where it all ends up, there is a bit of peace provided, because there is no longer a decision to be made. One way or another, things are in motion. Batten down the hatches and settle in, as the end game is underway. So too it has been with the Australian response to the pandemic. In recent weeks the strategy has shifted from one of elimination to one of accommodation, with the assumption that anyone still in Australia was going to have to make peace with things washing through to a certain extent. In hearing the announced shift in strategy, and in reading the emotions of those communicating it, there felt somewhat a parallel with that pivot point in natural disaster emergency broadcasts where the messaging shifts from strongly encouraging immediate evacuation, to advising that evacuation was no longer possible and that come what may, the only option remaining was to shelter in place. This mix was recorded during the time of this strategic shift. As such it reflects equal parts encouragement, relief and nostalgia, and is well suited to settling into a well protected place for an extended start to finish listen.

I love a good World War II documentary. While the world is today a very different place, there is still so much from that era that rings true, including the misplaced optimism in 1939 that suggested ‘the boys will be home by Christmas’. Similarly, when the global pandemic started here in the twenty-first century, there was a sense that things would return to normal within some reasonable period of time. And yet, here we are. As children in the back seat during road trips of interminable length – as they all were – we would too often and too soon ask the adults in charge ‘are we there yet?’. To the extent there are adults in charge of getting us to the end point of this interminable worldwide trip, those adults are in the laboratories, in the manufacturing facilities, and in the supply chains supporting the design and delivery of our global vaccine program. Waiting for time to pass is difficult. As anyone who has ever sat on the tarmac waiting for takeoff for longer than expected will tell you, it is doubly difficult when we are not quite sure how long we are meant to wait for. From Blaise Pascal’s timeless observation that humanity’s inability to sit quietly is the root of its collective misfortune, to the painful existential grind of Samuel Beckett’s no-show Godot, it seems at times that the only thing worse than a deadline is no deadline. For all these reasons and so many more, it sure was nice to get my second shot. This mix was recorded the evening following. As befits the mood of the evening, it touches a few different nerves of past, present and future.

It is the start of the longest night of the year here in Melbourne as I write this. As you may infer from the titles of my podcast episodes over the years, I have a recurring interest in the pivot points, the transitions, the turning points, the fulcrums, the thresholds, the apexes, the zeniths and the nadirs, and the point at which ebb becomes flow. Raised as I was with equal-tempered reverence for astronomy and astrology, the solstices hold a particular mystique for me. For many years, I took to playing the classic James Holden track Solstice on the summer and winter solstices. Close listeners will no doubt have heard the tune sneaking its way into the closing minutes of MFSA094 recorded a few months ago (admittedly closer to the equinox). Perhaps my fascination with turning points comes from some innate need for stimulation, change or newness. Perhaps it is a natural fascination with contrast, and the sense of fresh and different that comes from taking a new direction. Whatever its origins, I have learned to embrace it. This mix is a three hour set filled with plenty of changes in flow and tack. It was recorded live on a cozy Saturday winter evening just a few days shy of the winter solstice, in patient anticipation of the sunshine and spring soon to return to the southern hemisphere.

I am not a fast runner, but I like to run. After so many cancelled events it was great to again run in an organised event last weekend. It was a road run along the Great Ocean Road on the southern coast of Australia. The weather was wet but not rainy, with the run highlighted by an improbable number of seaside rainbows. Fittingly, the pub in which I had my celebratory post run beer bills itself as the southernmost pub on the Australian mainland. Running long distances has a way of letting the mind run free, safe in the knowledge that nothing can be actioned, and that we are exactly where we need to be. For a longer run there is also this balance to be struck, between pushing hard enough to chase a personal best, while also keeping enough in the tank to make it through to the finish line and the shower and pub beyond. While I firmly believe that pushing oneself is the best way to get good enough to make things easy, I also feel it is important not to beat oneself up too much. One can only do what one can do. I am fortunate enough to know some exceptionally hard workers. In getting to know them it has been refreshing and inspiring to learn that those that push themselves the hardest are often also those most adept at loosening up and letting things go when the finish line has been crossed, the project has been sorted, the deliverable has been sent, and the deal has been done. At the risk of repeating myself, balance is key.

While the whole world may be going through a global pandemic, the experience of every country and every individual has been different. As my good friend Dan has put it, we may all be riding out the same storm, but we are definitely not all in the same boat. We have each had our own unique difficulties and quiet victories over the course of the past year, and we have each found our own way of coping with the circumstances that have been thrown at us. For me, keeping things on an even keel over the past twelve months meant making quite a few suboptimal dietary choices, with the collective result leading to a recent reckoning as I now confront the reality of having to fit back into my work suits and shirts. As I assess the consequences of the last year and develop a course of behaviour to right the ship, I am struck again by the importance of balancing hedonic and eudaimonic priorities. Bad food feels good, but so too does being healthy.

Fun means different things to different people. An activity that one person sees as an exciting adventure – say free solo rock climbing, slam poetry or building a ship in a bottle – another is just as likely to see as profoundly terrifying, unpleasantly fiddly, or excruciatingly boring, with each the others nightmare. The extent to which a given commitment is seen as an opportunity or an obligation is really just a function of perspective, appetite and appreciation. Even the most arduous journey or pedantic detour can be seen as an odyssey or rite of passage with a strong enough rose tinting to the glasses. I am reading a book in which the author suggests that success in life is driven in part by the extent to which we are able to make peace with boredom, and to stay engaged with a habit, task or body of work even when our interest level wanes. The author suggests that the mark of whether you are made for a task is not just whether you love it, but rather whether you can handle the unpleasant parts of the task more easily than most people. Find a task that you enjoy that others complain about, he suggests, and you will have found an activity worth focusing on as a hobby or vocation. This mix was recorded live a few weeks ago. It starts and ends with two lovely bits of vinyl I recently picked up, and has some very groovy tunes mixed in from start to finish. I hope you enjoy it.

While the events of the past twelve months have provided plenty of reasons to be pensive, persnickety and petulant, I am feeling optimistic and inspired at the moment. It has been a year of limitations, worries, uncertainty and introspection, but as the calendar year ticks over and we try to imagine a new post-pandemic normal, I cannot help but feel a sense of optimism for what urban professional living and working will look like if and when we get to the other side of all of this. As a white collar office worker – a knowledge worker, as Peter Drucker would describe me – I need to be near a computer and a telephone to do my job. In the before times, this meant long days in the city, and daily commuting from home to work and back again. I guess I had always accepted that the price of full time employment was daily tripping to the city and back. But 2020, and the hundred day hard lockdown that Melbourne endured in the name of ensuring a public health victory, rewrote a lot of these rules by proving what was possible. Reconnecting with my colleagues at work over the past few weeks, we have had some boundary-pushing discussions about what work really needs to look like, and what our future workplace can be as a result of all of this. Rather than going back to work as we knew it, we may well be going somewhere new, where work is less about where you are, and more about what you do. As a circadian slave often energised at weird hours, the idea of being able to fully flex both time and space is truly mind expanding. Here is hoping the adventurous vision holds.

I enjoy long distance running with good music as a physical and psychological release. In particular I like the out-and-back style run, heading out to a distant point and then turning around to head home. Running out, there is a sense of adventure and commitment, knowing that every km out is a km that will need to be covered again on the way back home. More often than I should probably admit, I make a bit of a banking airplane figure with outstretched hands and some verbal sound effects as I make the turnaround. As the way out becomes the way in, the mindset shifts, from exploration to recovery. There is of course a global pandemic raging. It has been going on for a while now. With the reintroduction of community transmission here in Victoria just announced as I write this, we are clearly nowhere near the end, or even anywhere near the beginning of the end. However, with multiple vaccines approved and in the process of being deployed, my hope is that we are at least coming to the end of the beginning. With any luck we are turning the corner for the return trip home to some semblance of normalcy, even as we accept that things on our return may not be how we left them.

In audio editing terms, normalisation is something you do to a recorded signal in order to proportionally recalibrate it, so that the loudest peak in the program material corresponds to the highest signal intensity possible without distortion. You do not actually lose anything in the process. It is just that the levels are reset to a new standard. With our very last active COVID case here in Victoria given a clean bill of health and released from the hospital this morning, the second wave of the pandemic has now completely subsided in Australia. As the freedoms return, we are performing a similar reset. It is a recalibration towards a new normal, a reconsideration of what the best and worst case scenarios are, a relook at what we can reasonably roll with, and a rethink as to what our acceptable maximums and minimums really are going to be across a range of different variables at the end of all of this. Having seen through a challenging winter, we are now preparing for a cautious southern summer of comparative freedom and warmth. Have we normalised the impossible, or merely the incredibly difficult? Without the benefit of hindsight it is hard to say. What I do know is that all around the world, every country, every city, every family is at their own point of the pendulum that seems to endlessly swing between triumph and disaster. Each is doing the best they can with the knowledge and beliefs they have, each finding their own path towards their own new understanding of normal.  

Early November 2020. Not quite summer in Melbourne, but certainly not winter. Yesterday I wore a scarf over my sunburn. We are not quite free of restrictions here, but certainly not as held back either. We have spent more quality time with friends over the past week than we did during the six months prior, but while things are improving they are far from normal. There are still no jet planes in the sky. The counting of votes from an American election has been going on for a number of days, with no clear result quite at the moment. In time, all of these things will come to resolution.

Hemingway once said that big things happen slowly at first, but then suddenly. Time itself has felt a little weird in recent weeks, a mix of slow and sudden that has felt more than a bit bananas. Hard to believe that our city has been in some stage of restriction or lockdown for seven months now. Thankfully, daylight savings changes have bought us an extra hour of evening sunshine here in Melbourne, and as the days continue to lengthen I feel like we have finally returned to the stage where there are more hours of daylight than work in the average white collar WFH workday. At a global level, I have been riveted to what seems like a spiralling finale to a very weird and drawn out American leadership story. The time zone difference between North America and Australia is such that the headlines come thick and fast in the middle of the night, which does not help the already disrupted sleep cycles and disorienting rhythms of pandemic lockdown life. As befits the stretchy sense of time and timelessness we have felt these recent weeks, this mix starts off very slow before stepping through some of the deeper, more emotive tracks I have been listening to on repeat in recent weeks, along with a few timeless classics and some very groovy techno. It was recorded live as a therapeutic session in our locked down living room a few weeks ago. Wherever you are on the continuum between ‘time flies like an arrow’ and ‘fruit flies like a banana’, let these tunes bring you a bit of peace and perspective while we ride things out.

The first few days of spring have arrived here in Melbourne, and with it has come a sense of renewal and energy. The days are getting longer, minute by minute. Slowly but surely the weather is warming. The trees are starting to blossom. The birds are busily staking out their territory for the coming summer, while the city itself starts to slowly awaken and lockdown restrictions begin to relax. When movement is restricted, it is easy to draw deep meaning and morals from the sorts of things that have perhaps always been going on but have never before been noticed. The sights and sounds of our neighbourhood, from the soap operas of the skies to the secluded alleyways we have passed many times and are only just now noticing, have in recent months amplified our senses, our empathy, and our connection to place. More concretely, I have also taken the opportunity presented by our second lockdown to rebuild and upgrade my DJ booth. This mix is the first mix recorded with my new S4 MKIII controller. As always, it reflects the mood of the day. While you may not be able to hear the newly tidied wiring in the recording itself, the mise en place of a well configured booth is inspiring.

Melbourne is in to a Stage 4 lockdown as I write this. This includes the closure of all nonessential businesses, an evening curfew, a heavy police presence and serious penalties for being anywhere other than home without a valid reason. It seems to be making the news worldwide, based on the condolences and words of support that are coming through. There are pretty clear restrictions as to what we can do, and where we can do it. Limiting, yes, but also inspiring in a way because it gives us such a clearly defined space to exist in over the weeks to come. I have always been fascinated by the possibilities that restriction creates. In music, often the most memorable melodies and vocal lines are those kept to a few notes and based around repeating motifs. Techno as a genre is based in its entirety around repetitive, slowly evolving loops and subtle sonic tweaks. Haiku and limericks require steadfast adherence to structure and meter, while charcoal sketches and watercolour paintings leverage a limited palette to better involve the imagination in artistic appreciation. I suppose it might be a tad optimistic to suggest that constraints are usually advantages in disguise, but I do think that constraints eliminate the paralysis of choice. With respect to Henry Ford, it is not hard to pick a colour when black is the only option.

I keep a lot of lists. One of them is called Things I Already Know. It is reserved for things that I have very clearly learned, the hard way, and then seemingly forgotten, only to be reminded all over again the next time it happens. Nobody likes to step on a rake or slip on a banana peel twice. I have recently made a new addition to the list as a result of unexpected household events. This new entry reminds me that where it comes to household plumbing, while preventative maintenance may be less exciting than waiting for things to burst, preventative maintenance is also a lot cheaper and more convenient than dealing with an unexpected midweek 3am water pipe disaster. Check your flexi hoses. Circumstances here in Melbourne are similarly coming back around a second time, with the city having just entered a second period of extended lockdown as of this morning. As a city, it seems we knew what to do, then we forgot, and now we are being reminded again of what we once already knew. This mix is a three hour set, mixed live and livestreamed into the cars and living rooms of a few close friends the weekend before last. It contains a number of recently released songs that I have been eagerly waiting to get my hands on, as well as a few fresh revisits to a few classic tunes from a simpler time. As befits the current state of things, it is in equal parts comforting, moody, wistful and relaxed. Whatever level of freedom you are able to enjoy, I hope it brings you a bit of peace and calm for the road ahead.

The reticular activating system is a short, pencil-sized piece of the brain located just above where the spinal cord is attached to the brain. It acts as the gatekeeper of information between most sensory systems and the conscious mind. It decides what needs our attention and what can be safely ignored, and highlights the things in our universe that align with its priorities and concerns. Fight or flight, when all you have is a hammer everything looks like a nail, and all that sort of stuff. With all that is going on in the world, it can be easy to get drawn into focusing on far away events, and to lose perspective on the many peaceful mysteries unfolding in our more immediate vicinity. At the risk of stating the obvious, recent weeks have reminded me that shifting focus and stepping away from the stimulus even just for a little bit can work small wonders in resetting the sensors towards a more positive heading.

It has been a few months now that social engagement has been curtailed. Australia has managed things well by the look of things, with intergovernmental cooperation sustained, and policy decisions driven by science and fact, rather than ideology or ignorance. For the moment, we remain in a state of suspended in home animation, ready to take flight when the moment is right, but happy to chill in the meantime. While we are not out of the woods yet, there is definitely a light at the end of the tunnel. Nonetheless, as I write this on the eve of Mothers Day, it seems the backlog is growing of family to embrace, friends to see, things to do, and places to go. This mix was recorded live last weekend, and livestreamed to a few of the people that, if I had my way, would have instead been in my living room that night. As with all my mixes, the lyrics paint a picture across the arc of the set, and set a bit of context for the mood of the day. While we may be locked down safe at home, we can still connect, reflect, and enjoy putting together plans for the not too distant future. Look forward to seeing you all again soon.

After a bone breaks, there is a short period of time during the reparative stage of the healing process where the area around the fracture is stronger than it was before the injury. Having broken a few bones over the years, this period of extended staying at home feels a bit like a period of recovery after an injury. There is reduced movement, a focus on wellness, and a paradoxical sense of both peace and impatience towards an anticipated return to something approaching normalcy, while also recognising that things may never quite be the same even once the healing is over. The political, economic, social and public health ramifications of all of this will undoubtedly be profound. As such, it is both a turning point and a time for reflection. With luck, the path forward will see us strengthen, rehabilitate and rebuild to a future state that is stronger, more resilient and more supportive than that which we leave behind.

What an extraordinary time we are living through. With a global pandemic raging, it seems the whole world is focused precisely on a single little organic particle. I have high hopes that the collective undivided attention of the best and brightest minds on earth will bring us through the current storm of uncertainty, despite what feels at the moment like considerable turbulence and disruption. While settling in to close quarters for an extended period of time with limited provisions may not be universally seen as a good time, I can think of at least one group of people who pay large sums of money for the experience, with some even seeing it as the height of minimalist luxury. I am of course talking about bluewater sailing. And so with necessity the mother of invention, we have through the combined power of imagination and technology recently embarked on a transoceanic journey, plotted out on an oversize world map on our dining room wall, and supported by the realtime sailing simulator Sailaway. Leaving behind the empty parties and strung out streets of lockup life, we set sail from Rodd Island in Sydney a week ago. Having worked our way up the NSW and Queensland coast with favourable winds, we are scheduled to arrive in New Caledonia this evening. Hard to say where this journey will end, but while we are on it we will do the best we can to make use of the time, sense of the circumstances, and see some sights along the way. Bon voyage!

Melbourne summers seem to go on forever, with plenty of sunshine and long warm evenings. Unfortunately, the winters seem to go on forever too. Even before coming to Australia, I often thought that the length of a year felt like exactly the amount of time one can remember what a season feels like, so that when each one comes it feels like a distant but not quite forgotten memory. As the old saying goes, what goes up must come down. It certainly seems to have been true through the summer of strangely intense weather we have had here in Australia, from fires to rain to hail to record breaking heatwaves. Yet just when we thought we had seen it all an entirely new meteorological marvel arrived, in the form a torrential rainstorm filled with mud. It started as blowing sand, then turned to rain, and by the time it was done the entire city was coated with a thin film of red dusty grit. Truly something for everyone these past few months. What a summer indeed.  

And so it is now 2020. It has been an interesting few weeks here in Melbourne. Australia has been making headlines around the world due to a particularly severe bushfire season, and there have been a few days of smoke across the city that made things all feel a bit surreal. On a personal level, multiple overseas visitors have helped see the local sights through a fresh lens, while a minor knee injury has meant a bit less movement than might have originally been anticipated. Recent weeks have also seen us gain a bit more familiarity with the local wildlife, too. Perhaps it is the time off that has allowed us to stop and look up for a bit, and to take a bit more accountability for nature and our surrounds. Wherever the shift in perspective has come from, it has been a welcome addition to our world.

Recent weeks have shown me just how much things can change quickly. From moves across the globe to changes in fortune and circumstance, it seems that for many people close to me, recent events have served up a decidedly different state of affairs. From flights to fights to crashes and funerals, these events, while unconnected, seem to collectively reinforce the fragile, ephemeral nature of the current state of play. Is time precious? Is life short? Where does one differentiate between an experience endured and an experience enjoyed? Does knowing one will look back on a set of circumstances positively in future, make any difference to our ability to endure it in the present? Wherever you happen to be on the seemingly circuitous trail that loops us all between enduring, persevering, prospering and panicking at this particular moment, godspeed, and may good spirits, good music and good companions help light the way.