My grandfather was killed by a rubbish truck.

Jeeni Blog

Helping the next generation of talent to build a global fanbase

My grandfather was killed by a rubbish truck.

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!

One bright Autumn morning, my grandfather was killed by a rubbish truck. He got run over crossing the road on his regular walk to work. He was 84. And I am comforted to know that he loved his work as much as he loved his walk. As for me, I have yet to reach that ripe old age but I am still working most hours, most days. It's not so much that I love my work, more that I don't know what else to do. When I was younger, so much younger than today, I was promised a sci-fi world where all labour would be performed by robots, leaving us humans to enjoy a more meaningful existence. Before my grandfather was born, Karl Marx wrote that in a mechanised society workers would be freed from the monotony of work to “hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, criticise after dinner.” My grandfather certainly never saw such a sci-fi world or Marxist society, and I'm still waiting for it. But the way things are going I may not have to wait much longer for robots to take over the tedium of work.

Judging by their behaviour, I suspect that most telemarketers, receptionists, estate agents and bar tenders were replaced by robots ages ago. And for drivers, machine operators and manual workers, it can only be only a matter of time. The first robot aircraft pilot took to the skies then navigated flawlessly and landed safely way back in 1947. Robots have been successfully conducting complex heart surgery since 2004. Artificial intelligence has already reached the cognitive power of a nine year-old human, in which case it is qualified to run for President of the USA in November. But do we really need political leaders to tell us how best to fill our waking hours? If we can develop all these technological wonders then we should be smart enough to work it out for ourselves.

Our waking hours are dominated by work, whether we are in work or not. Strikers are depicted as troublemakers. Artists are depicted as idle. The poor are depicted as scroungers. The state cajoles the unemployed, the sick and the disabled to get off their arses and work. We are educated with the goal of work in mind, then having worked all our lives we are grudgingly handed back a mingy pension which we paid for in the first place. The idealised worker works in order to pay the childminder, the Deliveroo driver, the dog walker, the baker, the brewer, the app maker, because the idealised worker has no time left for such things. The idealised worker is too busy working to do any of these things for herself.

For huge numbers of us the significance of the old certainties of community, religion, politics, and even family, have all fallen away to be replaced by work. For huge numbers of us work is how we give our lives meaning, while at the same time work has become more precarious, more impersonal, more stressful, and the app-driven gig economy is a perfect example of this. Yet everybody knows that automation is already capable of doing most manual jobs of work, and now artificial intelligence is predicted as achieving the capability of taking over most desk-bound jobs too. Since the pandemic, the entire framework of work is falling apart.

But as a species we are not hardwired to work for a living. We never have been. We were lied to by those who said we must work, either to deserve a mythological afterlife, or protect an artificial realm, or for supposed honour, or someone else's glory, or for tokens of currency that can only be spent at the store owned by the company that issues those tokens in the first place. But of course all of those motivations are a con. And an obvious con at that.

So here's the thing. Now we have cheap reliable technology, let's get all the robots to do as much of the muscle work as they can, and let's get all the artificial intelligences to do as much of the brain work as they can. Then let's redistribute the remaining working hours evenly to we the people, and in return pay ourselves some of that fabricated stuff called money so we can buy good food and decent shelter. By my reckoning six hours a day, three days a week will do nicely to pick up the slack left by the robots. Work needn't be useless. Work includes child-rearing, caring for the elderly and protecting the vulnerable. It also includes growing food, dreaming up new businesses and fixing the tap. And work includes creating music and dance and poetry and streaming it on Jeeni.com. It is self-evident that all valid work is worth the same valid reward. This is not a Marxist idea, or even a socialist proposal. It's the Tories who bang on about work being such a good thing and everyone pulling their weight, and I completely agree with them. Margaret Thatcher, that champion of work culture, said, “The heresies of one period become the orthodoxies of the next.” Yes indeedy, so bring on the robots and the electronic brains. If work is such a good thing then let everyone have a go for a few hours a week for a universal payment. And don't worry about how the payment is distributed, the accounts have all been reckoned by computers for years.

Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

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06
Jun

Meet The Curators Behind Spotify Playlists - the A and R Dictatorship

Landing on an official curated Spotify playlist is for many artists a holy grail. To provide some insight, we hear from a Spotify editor about how they find the songs which eventually make the cut. Spotify seems to be the opposite of Jeeni, where the process is democratic and those artists that start trending are based on real votes, and whilst technology has moved on they are still in the dark ages where their music is still decided and dictated by A&R agents. And unlike Jeeni.com, with Spotify if they don't like the look of you, then you're not coming in! Guest post from Spotify for Artists by Khalilia Douze A Spotify editor explains how they discover songs to include in their curated lists. Being added to a Spotify playlist remains the dream for most emerging artists, as it exposes their work to some of the most-clicked on playlists in the world. But for many musicians and their teams, the behind-the-scenes process still feels shrouded in mystery. While there’s no formula for scoring a coveted slot on Pollen or RapCaviar, there is rhyme and reason to how the massive team of editors curate tracks. We spoke with one Spotify staffer, who helps oversee R&B playlists such as the genre flagship Are & Be, The Newness, Soul Coffee, Soul Lounge the Black Lives Matter playlist and more, to learn about their process and tips on how musicians can stand out when pitching unreleased music through Spotify for Artists. Spotify for Artists: What strategies do you use to curate playlists? The strategy is based on the playlist itself. Each has its own hypothesis, theme, or audience that we’re thinking about. If it’s one of the genre-specific playlists, like Are & Be, that’s the home for the current, biggest songs in that space. The Newness is new releases or developing artists. Chilled R&B, Soul Coffee, those playlists have a mix of current and some legacy and catalog artists. It really all depends on what the goal of the specific playlist is. What are you listening for when you’re curating? I’m listening for lyrics. I’m listening for melody. A lot depends on the playlist itself, and sometimes that’s the filter that I have. When I’m listening, [I’m like] Oh, this song would do good in this playlist or, This song could fit here for this moment. A lot of it is based on the audience. You have the specific genres, but then there’s a lot of cases where those lines are blurred. The instrumentation and the beat can determine an audience, so [we think about] where we believe the audience is for that particular song. Does song length play a role in how you’re curating? It depends on the playlist. Soul Coffee is more of a relaxing [vibe]. In our minds, that’s one of those where you would just get up in the morning and that’s what you throw on while you’re getting ready, eating breakfast, or reading a book on Sunday. I know that the people will just have it on, so that playlist has a longer time spent listening as opposed to the flagship, Are & Be, and The Newness. For The Newness, when people are listening to that or one where it’s developing artists and new releases, that’s more about discovery. People may not spend a lot of time listening to that playlist—it’s about skimming and seeing what’s out. Can you walk me through how you use the submission tool to discover music? Labels pitch to us every week. We’re able to get their submissions through there, but they also communicate with our Artist Label Partnership team. We’ll talk to them [about] what their plan is for their priorities. There’s a ton of music—it’s countless. That’s pretty much the majority of Mondays and Tuesdays, listening to the pitches that come in for that week. It goes to our whole team. We listen to everything. The rest of the week is updating the playlists and finding the space for them, reviewing what songs are already in the playlist, looking at the performance, and things like that. When it comes to tags in the submission form, what advice do you have? People should be as specific as possible and fill out every single thing to make sure it goes to the right people. Different editors might have different filters to differentiate. I’m listening for if it’s a cool song first and foremost, but past my opinion of it, do I know if there’s a home for it? It’s about being able to find it and [seeing] where it can fit. I’ve seen entries where it would literally just be the artist name and their title—that’s how it gets lost in the abyss. We’re not omnipotent, so we don’t know what we don’t know. Are there any rules about how many times an artist can be playlisted? No. Every curator is different and has [their] own philosophy on what songs are in a playlist. There’s no concrete rule. Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

06
Jun

I have a confession to make.

Jeeni has returned to Crowdcube to raise more funds for helping new talent. Jeeni founding director Mel Croucher says, “Day 5 and we have reached 98% of our 100K target". 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 website www.melcroucher.net. Here's one of Mel's latest! I have a confession to make. I have been pimping a young model, and I confess my shame. My pimping is the result of a moment of weakness. I’ve had models before, and I understand their capricious nature. One moment they are willing to perform across my desk, and the next they freeze and refuse to let me do what I want to do. But it has not been any fantasy performance that’s got me hooked, it has been the fantasy looks. I was bored. I wanted colour. I wanted make-up. I wanted dazzle and glitter. I wanted tribal tattoos, hot bubbles, glowing tubes and a whirling fan-dance. Forgive me, but I’ve pimped my computer.In 1909, Henry Ford declared, “I will build a motor car for the great multitude. It will be constructed of the best materials, by the best men to be hired, after the best designs that modern engineering can devise. And no man making a good salary will be unable to own one.” He then added his famous line, “The customer can have his car painted any colour he wants as long as it’s black.” And so they were. Painted black. When I was young, cars were still mostly black, apart from the odd spot of lipstick around the exhaust pipes of those used in suicide pacts. As for computer manufacturers, they all followed Henry Ford’s marketing strategy for half a century. Except their colour of choice was not black, but the sort of beige favoured by dead maggots. The exception was the ZX Spectrum which was black, but the keyboard really was made of dead maggots. Apart from that aberration, beige was the colour. In fact the beige box came to be used as a term of derision for desktops, implying dated, boring specifications. For example, IBM's early desktop computers were not only very beige indeed, but also very box-shaped indeed, and most PC clone manufacturers followed suit. As IBM and its imitators came to dominate the industry, beige boxes became the unquestioned norm for boring desktop computer design. Even early Apple Macs were beige boxes, until Apple took the revolutionary step in 1987 of switching to the even more boring shade of Chicken Poo By Moonlight. Not long after, equally boring videogame consoles took over the world, until there were so many revolting grey Nintendos and Segas and Playstations and Gameboys, that they had to be transported across deep space to be turned into landfill on distant moons. Meanwhile all Earthbound computers were still fifty shades of grey, until one day Apple changed everything.I remember the shock when their 1988 iMacs were launched. Suddenly we had a choice of computers that looked like see-through giant jellybabies, in a range of five neon colours called gangrene, monkeybum, impetigo, barbie and mince. And that was the end of the adult era in electronics, as a collective madness took over computer marketing. Now users are persuaded to buy machines not for what they do in the adult world, but for their infantile appearance. Users who are normally sane actually enjoy miniature coloured LEDs, winking and blinking through transparent windows like a pixie brothel. Tubes of bubbling, gaudy liquids snake their way through the computer’s guts like tapeworms on acid. Miniature spotlights illuminate cooling fans and heat-sinks from the inside out. These days a serious gamer will spend serious money on a serious PC, then corrupt the whole thing by spraying it with Plasti-Dip peelable, durable, non-slip, rubberised, multi-coloured spew. Yes, I know I shouldn’t have, but a bloke called Xephos made me do it. Let me explain further. I have been influenced by the newly popular phenomenon of celebrity PCs, where people buy a particular machine simply because their heroes favour it, endorse it or actually commission it in their name. For example one of the world’s most popular videogaming channels on YouTube is called The Yogscast. Last time I counted, it had more than seven and a half million subscribers and over six billion views, and that’s a whole lot of purchasing power. Their founder, this bloke called Xephos, got a business partner of Jeeni to create “the ultimate Yogscast PC range to live stream and play games all day.” And as the factory os not far from me, I went over to mock. But I stayed to pray, and found myself mesmerised by the bloody thing. Bloody as in bejewelled with animated red illuminations inside the see-through casing. Which is how I joined this PC pimping revolution.And even non-gamers are at it. Most regular folk, who normally wear sensible shoes and don’t indulge in bear-baiting or country music, they too have joined the pimping revolution by expressing their personal proclivities via their mobile phones. In the beginning, all mobiles were universally Henry Ford black. Now even old age pensioners wave customised casings around, all lipstick colours, sparkles and cutesy-poo creature decorations. At least, that’s what mine’s like. But I still suffer from a residual shame over my pimping habit, and like all instant gratification I feel guilty because of it. In fact while looking for a replacement machine recently, I have been quite attracted by one of those shapely models with a bit of sobriety, experience and bulk. And yes, before you ask, it’s black. Click HERE to visit or return to jeeni.com

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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