I originally bought this in 1992 when it was first released. Of course I have it on CD now and have converted this, along with many of their songs, including the classic, The Visitors into mp3 format. It's very easy to trivialise the majesty of this band and their music with dubious musicals, films and little segments in cheap talking heads programmes but the quality of songwriting and production is not something to be trivialised. I understand that Bob Geldoff believes that they were and are 'shit' but I'm sure he would have killed his children to have these multi-millionaires preach to us proles at one of his live awareness campaigns, while he fraternises in the V.I.P area with the rich and famous.
Although this album is a compilation of classic singles, you cannot underplay the fact that this essential collection of music defines pop in its purest, innocent and most perfect form, long before 'pop', with its cynical manufactured process, became a dirty word. On one hand there are the songs with infectious and euphoric hooks that would have even the most seasoned and sinister cynic singing along to, alongside songs of such heartfelt depth,heartbreak and darkness that display Abba, not as a formulaic hit machine but as vulnerable human beings with, fears and the normal feelings you acquire through periods of guilt and regret that life throws at us. Just because they never made, (or perhaps never got round to) their 'Sergent Pepper' or their 'Revolver' album doesn't follow that they cannot be credibly mentioned in the same breath as their influences The Beatles or the Beach Boys. It's clearly evident in the quality and sheen of the production on tracks like 'Dancing Queen,', 'Knowing me, knowing you,' and 'Super Trouper' that they were as much pioneers in the studio as they were in their craft for piping out timeless pop music. The closest thing you might get to The Beatles in terms of experimenting with the pop format is 'The Visitors', or especially 'The Day Before You Came', surely their 'Let It Be' moment, laying bare the soul, in a bare arrangement, almost, but not quite, devoid of emotion. In a perfect world, there would only be one religion, the Church of Abba, it wouldn't take the form of any physical structures in which to house the worship as we'd carry it with us, but the best thing about it, would be the hymns.
There's nothng too special about these. They're basically like Crunchy Nut Cornflakes but without the nuts. I'm not so sure that they even sell these anymore. I'm only reminded of these because during that same shopping trip when I went to pick up six glass bottles of diet coke I noticed some toddler having a bit of a tantrum because his mother reached for the cartoon of juice that didn't have the Disney promotion on it. He yelled, screamed and kicked the air as she insisted to him, but not very convincingly, that they were both the same. In the end, just to keep him quiet she relented. When you have the money and the choice you'll always pick the better packaging. Surely she must have understood that. Perfection comes at many prices. I have my cornflakes by the way with semi-skimmed Cravendale milk. It says that it's filtered. Always a good sign. I used to enjoy Jersey Milk but I put on a lot of weight.
I downloaded this after reading a Stephen Fry review about it. Normally I'm not easily sold and I always, if I can, see if I can check the service or product before endorsing it. This recommendation alone from Fry is worth looking into. I understand that Stephen Fry used to view himself as a grotesque piece of shit. Although it's a view he feels he has a right to make I have to say that he's wrong. I wish that I had an ounce of his eloquence, his knowledge and his master of language. What we do share though is enthusasm, passion and the desire to possess beautiful things that make life functional, ordered and easier to cope with. Because these are desires that we feel we can control or to some extent influence. They are things that won't ever harm or disappoint us. Whether it's the iPhone, a book of poetry, or, well a browser, they might not always be reliable or have the effect they are supposed to but their intentions may always seem to be honest, and in this world it's very easy to be skeptical of intentions. So I use Mozilla. It feels like a swift surfing experience. The interface is neat and tidy and I have all my bookmarks organised into little folders for various uses. 'Media', 'Blogs', 'Shopping,' 'Travel' 'Music' and so on. I won't claim that it will keep your life organised no more than empty to do lists/applications, but if it attempts on the PC at least to stop the beasts and bugs and looks good, then that's got to be better than IE, or Safari, which for it's iTunes-looking interface, doesn't really cut the mustard, if for the life of you, you know what cut the mustard means or from where the term originates.
This is one of the many things I bought from Ikea when I moved into the flat. (I've also got rugs, bookshelves, Compact disc stands and storage units from Ikea) In the right space this sofa looks suitably minimal but in my space, and no doubt thousands of flats and houses it probably looks out of place in a cluttered environment (most of the clutter being from Ikea). I prefer the plain white look. But it picks up various stains that are bound to be made on such a sofa where there are people like me. Sex, coffee, chocolate… For me, I don’t know why, with Ikea décor in the flat, also including my computer desk and chair, it’s not a world away to imagine that I am living in a plush pad in Malmo. This space is where I design houses or super-cities. I drink filtered water, wear sober colours, and eat minimal Japanese cuisine. This desire is totally indulgent and doesn’t mean anything more than what it is. It’s a step towards perfection that in reality I am far too sentimental, poor and lazy, to achieve. At the same time I’m finding the whole Ikea thing rather questionable, as the snob inside me has observed that like panel flooring and lava lamps, this whole home improvement thing has become too common and gone too far. Even joss sticks are tacky by comparison. Everyone’s crib is all so retro and kitsch these days. Everyone’s a wannabe minimalist, stylist, graphic designer, artist, and a property developer.Because of the clutter, my real space doesn’t do all that ambient music I have complied justice. The place is too messy.
I once worked with someone once who said that he often visits Ikea when he’s feeling depressed. It cheers him up. It’s rare for him, he says, to come out empty handed. He has to buy something, whether it’s a fish slice or a cardboard magazine rack. I love my sofa all the same. It might not be long enough to stretch my legs or to have a comfortable sleep but its simple enough. It wasn’t difficult to carry up two flights of stairs but it was a hassle for my brother to strap it to the roof rack. He reckoned the sight of it on his car embarrassed him but how could you be embarrassed by a Klippan sofa from Ikea?
Even if I succeeded in making my own life and home unquestionably neat by anyone’s standards, how would I go about tidying up the lives of others, the streets outside, the countries abroad, every single infrastructure and home, the habits and style of every human being? How could I possibly even begin to dream up and execute an in house style that takes in every living thing and space while also achieving the highest, neatest, efficient form of fashion, art, food, drink, culture, law, politics, environment, transport and health?I suppose the search for perfection should be like unrequited love. It’ll always be perfect but should exist in the imagination. Even if I could achieve the impossible it would probably leave me empty. What else would there be to live for? Indeed if the whole process of human existence is to reach perfection, then given the idea that we reach the unreachable, if we don't kill ourselves first, what then? Would the endgame of human existence revolve around a new virtual reality, where we devolve, creating experiences and experiments to discover what it was like to have limbs, to be hungry, to have desires, to have disorders, to solve the problem of boredom? I need to acquire as much as possible to clear my mind, and the need to desire, to possess.
