Jeeni Blog

Helping the next generation of talent to build a global fanbase

Huawei to Hell

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Huawei to Hell

Today, Jeeni returns to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “We’re ahead of our original schedule, but there’s still so much more to do. We need to scale our online platform globally now and build our mass artist showcases to hit all our targets, and give our new artists the recognition they deserve.” If you want to see our pitch click HERE.

Mel has been writing the best-loved column in top-selling tech magazines for over 30 years. Now he’s agreed to share his work with our members. He’s a video games pioneer and musician, and to to find out more about Mel check out his Wikipedia page. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Croucher. Here’s Mel’s latest!

Trade wars are dangerous. When tariffs are imposed, and when sanctions get slapped on, and when one nation ceases to trade with another nation, then a trade war has a funny habit of turning into a real war. And here we all are, slap bang in the middle of a lulu of a trade war between the world’s two most powerful states. This is a trade war that’s not based on essentials like oil, or wheat, or toilet paper, but a trade war based on the pixies and fairy-dust of software algorithms. One day a peace treaty is waved, next day missiles are launched. Here is what happened in the future.

The proxy war between the Donald Trump and Boris Johnson axis against Xi Jinping didn’t affect me much, seeing as I had never owned a Huawei handset. I admit that I did find some comfort in the fact that cellphone zombies became totally bereft at the prospect of not being able to view TikTok on their little Chinese screens. All I could say to those morons was - suck it up guys, you had it coming!

In the first few hours of the Huawei denial of service attacks, the bewilderment and confusion of being unable to access social media apps soon turned to anger. This was triggered by the fact that the masses were unable to access social media apps to tell one another that they could not access social media apps. They soon realised they couldn’t remember any contact details of any of their virtual friends, or why they were virtual friends in the first place. Neither could they remember where they were, or where anything else was, or how to find their way around the real world at all. And without the Uber app they found themselves physically marooned within the perimeters of their ignorance. Deliveroo failed to respond the following day, so to avoid starvation, people who had a strong sense of smell managed to find their way to MacDonalds. But the computers were down and riots began when the Cola ran out, as slow-motion customers blamed Covid19 for the fact that China and the USA were having a software spat.

That night, the younger, more active elements of society went on the rampage and looted Tescos for pot noodles, which was a total waste of effort because the electric kettles no longer worked, thanks to smart-meter reliance on dodgy apps. Tuesday evening, after martial law and compulsory prayers, the county lines failed to supply recreational drugs to their app-driven client base, and hospitals were targeted to fill the gap in the market. Amusing video clips of the descent into chaos were not shared, not because of any sense of social responsibility but because Instagram was kaput. This added to the howling rage of the mob more than somewhat. Then, not long after the dogs began to disappear, the hunting of the weak began, and there was the smell of woodsmoke and bacon in the air. On a more positive note, a lot of overweight people slimmed down fast and learned new skills like shadow puppetry and crossbow production.

And so it was that all those predictions how civilisation would end as the result of electro-magnetic-pulse attacks turned out to be wrong. There was no need to launch missiles, zap communications or fry every electronic circuit in the land. All it took was an old man with an orange face to start a pissing contest. The irony that the old man’s preferred means of communication was Twitter is not lost on me, but then I don’t need Google Maps to tell me that we’re all up shit creek without a paddle.

And that, dear reader, is how come we all ended up on the Huawei to Hell.

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Mel's World

03
Sep

Mel's World

Today, Jeeni has returned to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “I admit we're ahead of our original schedule, but there's still so much more to do. We need to scale our online platform globally now and build our mass artist showcases. Then we can hit all our targets, and give our new artists the recognition they deserve.” If you want to see our pitch click HERE. Mel has been writing the best-loved column in top-selling tech magazines for over 30 years. Now he's agreed to share his work with all our members. He's a video games pioneer and musician, and to to find out more about Mel check out his Wikipedia page. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Croucher. Here's one of Mel's latest! This place is neither a home nor a prison. It is some sort of institution. It drips a pallid 1980s atmosphere, and it makes me both afraid and excited. I am completely lost in a badly-lit labyrinth of corridors. It feels like I am being toyed with, and I want to leave. Of course I know the rules by now, and the most important rule of all is that I must keep my social distance of an arms-length and avoid physical contact with any other lost souls who wander these passages. They are creepy. They look more like ghosts than real people. Their eyes are disturbing. Sometimes they stare ahead vacantly, sometimes their staring gazes flick to the left and then to the right in a zombie rhythm. I cannot see their noses or their mouths, because they are covered by coloured masks. My own mouth is not covered at all. My own mouth gapes wide open. I think I feel hungry. I think I am searching for food. Perhaps I will find a piece of fruit, or maybe one of those pills I am encouraged to consume. As I turn a corner, I nearly collide with one of the ghostly figures. But I keep calm. I do not panic. I simply turn away and move as fast as I can. Which is not very fast at all. I can sense another presence around the next corner. The passages are only wide enough for one soul to pass at a time. I feel rather hopeless. I feel quite trapped. I think there is a distinct possibility that very soon I will lose my life. I think I need to build a wall before my time runs out. I know how to build a wall, I have had plenty of practice. The bottom rows of bricks slot into place without much trouble. But the more I seem to succeed, the more difficult my masonic task becomes. The stupid smaller bricks take on a will of their own, and the larger bricks feel clumsy in my hands. My wall is becoming a mess. There are big gaps in the structure where an enemy might get through. There are little gaps in the structure where a virus can penetrate. I think I'd better get out of here. I think I'd better find me a new space, one with some ladders to climb up and ledges to crawl along. Perhaps if I navigate these ladders and ledges, I can find my way out. And will you look up there! High above the ladders, almost out of sight, there is a young woman in a purple frock. She is in obvious distress. She calls out to me. Her flame-red hair cascades around her face, and then blows backwards. Which is bizarre, because there is no wind to speak of. Now she screams out, the same word over and over again. The word is help. Her cry is too theatrical. She has a big nose, like Princess Diana, or Pete Townshend. I am not very interested in her. I am much more interested in the beer. It believe that the beer is stored in big wooden barrels, stacked up in strategic places, and seemingly too heavy to be manhandled. But I am able to pick up any barrel I like, magically, without a problem, because I am unnaturally strong. And I am very, very hairy, from tip to toe. If I was once Pacman, now I am the mighty Kong. It has been many years since the viral invaders arrived from the Far East. The Space Invaders. At first the effects of their invasion were only faintly amusing, but then they grew rather attractive, and strangely exciting, and eventually they became quite addictive, even all-consuming. But as with all invasions, their glamour grew dull and they eventually lost their grip on power and faded into folk-memory. Recently, my domestic patterns have been disrupted, just like everyone else's. I have been procrastinating. I have been clearing out the cupboard under the stairs. Which is how I came across this old crate that has been gathering dust for longer than I can remember. Near the top of the crate there was a sleeping collection of very old videogame cassettes, many of which I had published myself. And beneath those old games there were some vintage machines in their original boxes. Once I'd worked out which of their black power supplies went into which of their grubby little holes, they sprang back into life to display crude blocky graphics on their silly little screens. It's been decades since I played Pacman, or Tetris, or Donkey Kong. And the last time I played Space Invaders, silly haircuts were compulsory and Margaret Thatcher was driving around in a tank. When this shitstorm is over, and when I am able to go free-range again, I wonder how long it will take me to forget about all the ghosts in all the corridors from all those bygone times. As for the flame-haired damsel in distress, I remember her name clearly. Her name was Pauline Daniella Verducci Lady Louise. She was less than an inch tall. She was a drip. The beer was virtual. It still is. Jeeni Creator, Mel Croucher - badly in need of a haircut Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

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Artists' rights have been stuck like a broken record, until Broken Record asked for Reform

05
May

Artists' rights have been stuck like a broken record, until Broken Record asked for Reform

An open letter was sent to Prime Minister Boris Johnson on the 20th of April, demanding, finally, that there be a reform in music streaming services. Hoorah! We hear you say, but what does this mean? Well, everything that Jeeni stands for, in essence the fair and equal treatment of music makers and artists.  High profile artists such as Sir Paul McCartney, Coldplay’s Chris Martin, Boy George and Jessie Ware, have all signed the open letter and petition asking for a regulator to ensure these actions, in order to make the UK “…the best place in the world to be a musician or songwriter.” The move was spearheaded by the Musicians’ Union and the Broken Record campaign but has garnered more than 150 signatures from famous faces across the UK music industry and the support of over 5000 musicians and fans.  Since the launch of Spotify in 2008, streaming services have quickly become our primary method for listening to music instead of through the more traditional methods of radio and Television. What these streaming services don’t offer however, is protection and fair treatment of the artists and songwriters.  In November 2020, as part of an investigation into streaming royalties, it was found that some artists were receiving just a fraction of a US cent per song streamed and worse, some no compensation at all.  In order for this to change, only small amendments need to be made to the 1998 Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, however the outcome for artists could mean the difference in being able to pay next month’s rent or not as many have unfortunately experienced. At a time when we need to be looking for ways to restart the post-Covid financial recovery, a truly free market would allow a song to achieve greater profits and therefore, as the letter addresses, put more money in the pockets of UK taxpayers which can only benefit our economy.  Fundamentally we don’t want to stop listening to and seeing the artists and musicians we love. When we are able, we want to dance along at concerts, sing our hearts out at gigs and sway to the rhythm that an artist has worked hard to create for us, so why should they not be paid and treated fairly?  We want the music industry to thrive, and it is why we at Jeeni believe that it is so important to do this.  You can support the petition at  https://www.change.org/p/boris-johnson-put-the-value-of-music-back-where-it-belongs-in-the-hands-of-music-makers Let’s make 2021 a great and fair one.

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Emiliyah and the MightyZ Allstars at The Queens Hotel Southsea

23
Jun

Emiliyah and the MightyZ Allstars at The Queens Hotel Southsea

COMPETITION TIME WIN FREE ACCESS FOR A GROUP OF 6  The Queens Hotel Southsea Sunday 13th June 2021. Emiliyah and the MightyZ Allstars are a collective of talented musicians fronted by lead singer Emiliyah Witkiewicz. The band perform original new reggae music, while still staying faithful to reggae roots from the 1970s and early 1980s. Emilia ‘Emiliyah’ Witkiewicz from Warsaw is a true vocal phenomenon.  Without doubt the most exciting new talent on the Reggae scene.  Never formally trained, she started her musical journey with Jazz, Blues and Soul music before finally choosing reggae. Singing from her heart always, Emiliyah has already worked with and supported names like Janet Kay, Vivian Jones, Winston Reedy, Kenny Knots ,Starky Banton, Luciano to name but a few. Joined with immensely talented musicians – ‘the Mighty Z All-stars’. Consisting of Stuart ‘MightyZ’  Inglis on bass, Bri Cotter on guitar, J Sealy on Drums and Cajon, James ‘The Jazz Priest’ Richardson on keyboards and Clinton ‘Rock’ Jones on lead guitar. Emiliyah and the MightyZ Allstars will be performing at the Summer Garden Party hosted at The Queens Hotel Southsea along with The Majestic, Sunday 13th June 2021. How to win: All you have to do is like and share this blog post and we will enter you into the draw to be announced Saturday Night 12 June 2021 at 8pm.  Full Details of event can be found at: https://book.events/queensgardenparty/2021-06-13/30015 #funky #upbeat #uplifting # emiliyahandthemightyzallstars  #blogs #reggaemusic #band #livemusic #jamacianmusic #guitar

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