Why did Adobe dump Linux support for AIR?

This is old news now, but back in June 2011, Adobe stopped supporting AIR for Linux.  AIR 2.6 remains available for Linux, but no further versions will be released, and 18 months down the road AIR 2.6 is starting to fail on current Linux desktops.  Our children were sent Jacquie Lawson advent calendars last November, and we just about got them working on our laptop that runs an older version of Ubuntu.  On later Ubuntus and Linux Mint, AIR is either not running at all or starting to get flaky.  Today I’m upgrading our older laptop, so I believe we’re saying goodbye to AIR for good.

So why did Adobe drop support? Their official message is:

Lifetime AIR for Linux desktop downloads represent less than 0.5% of total AIR desktop downloads, which number over 450 million. Therefore, Adobe has decided to change the distribution model for Linux and direct these resources toward its mobile efforts. Adobe’s efforts are focused on supporting operating systems that are most important to its customers, and that demonstrate the greatest opportunity for future growth for its partners and developers…

So, Adobe basically feels that there aren’t enough people using the Linux version of AIR to make it worth them making it.  0.5% of 450 million is 22.5 million.  Around 20 million people using something is too small a number for Adobe to support.  I wonder what other companies would do for around 20 million customers, or for 20 million downloads of their product?  Adobe may believe it likes to focus on supporting the platforms that are “most important to its customers”, but that’s clearly not true for up to 20 million of its former customers, for many of whom Linux is the only operating system they use.  What they mean is “we focus on operating systems that are important to most of our customers“.  If you don’t fit the easiest possible profile for Adobe to exploit, you’re not of interest to them. So, taking wonderful liberties with language, they’re “changing their distribution model” – to one where there’s no actual distribution go on.

This highlights afresh for me why I couldn’t give a stuff about the software offerings of companies like Adobe.  They’re not in it for me.  I the customer am to jump through stupendous hoops and give up all kinds of liberties to make it easy for them to sell me stuff.  In reality, if Adobe are supporting OS X, it is also easy for them to also support Linux as both are Unix-like systems. I suspect they already offer Linux support for their favoured clients in Holywood who very often use Linux platforms for CGI.  No, Adobe’s decision is nothing to do with following what the market wants. Linux is the fastest growing desktop OS. Instead, massive software corporations like Adobe prefer to manipulate the market – shutting down choices they don’t like; that they perceive interfere with their preferred business model.  They value their customers like a beef farmer values his cattle.

Well, I don’t buy into it.  Jacqui Lawson can go whistle next year if she’s thrown in her lot with people like that.

Pure CSS date ribbon

I’m currently re-designing City of Sanctuary’s various news feeds, which have been sorely neglected for far to long. I quite like the little date ribbons in Blogger’s “Magazine” layout, so I thought I’d have a go at reproducing those.

Here’s the HTML:

<div class="ribbon">
  <div class="top">Jan</div>
  <div class="middle">18</div>
  <div class="tail">
    <div class="left"></div>
    <div class="right"></div>
  </div>
</div>

And here’s the CSS:

.ribbon {
   margin: 0.25em 1em 1em 0;
   background: #fff;
   float: left;
   position: relative;
   color: #f9f9f9;
 }
 .ribbon .top,
 .ribbon .middle {
   background: #833;
   padding: 0.1em 0.2em;
   border-bottom: 1px solid #f9f9f9;
   text-align: center;
   -moz-box-shadow: 2px 4px 7px #d9d9d9;
   -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 4px 7px #d9d9d9;
   box-shadow: 2px 4px 7px #d9d9d9;
 }
 .ribbon .middle { border: 0; }
 .ribbon .tail {
   height: 0.5em; width: 100%;
   position: absolute;
   bottom: -0.5em;
   left: 0;
   overflow: hidden; 
 }
 .ribbon .tail .right,
 .ribbon .tail .left {
   position: absolute; height: 1em; width: 100%;
   background: #833;
   bottom: 0.5em;
   -webkit-transform: skew(0deg, -20deg);
   -moz-transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
   -o-transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
   -ms-transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
   transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
   -moz-box-shadow: 1px 1px 3px #ccc;
   -webkit-box-shadow: 1px 1px 3px #ccc;
   box-shadow: 1px 1px 3px #ccc;
 }
 .ribbon .tail .right {
   -webkit-transform: skew(0deg, 20deg);
   -moz-transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
   -o-transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
   -ms-transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
   transform: skew(-0deg, -20deg);
 }

And here’s a live demo. Enjoy!

Are we looking at the end of the mass market?

Pondering extinction…

I just read Philip Beeching’s post of last August - Why companies fail – the rise and fall of HMV - particularly pertinent today as HMV have gone into administration.  There was some wonderful insight in both the article and the comments, and plenty of food for thought.

In particular, I was struck by a commenter (Ali) who wrote,

“There’s no quicker route to bankruptcy than having an increasing share of a shrinking market.”

That got me to wondering if the very act of a large company cornering a market causes the value of that market to fall. Like when there were lots of independent coffee shops, you might get bored with one and try another which would have slightly different product and a different approach. Soon, only Costa and Starbucks will own all our coffee shops, and we’ll quickly get bored of the same product offered everywhere, no matter how good it is. At which point we’ll all move to the growing plethora of small independent milkshake shops. Gross exaggeration of course, but I think highlighting something of how markets behave. The market has the most value for us when it is diverse. When a market becomes a monoculture, its value plummets. People are smart. Consumers will start looking outside the market to get what they want. Entrepreneurs will stop trying to compete head on with the monopoly and look to side-step it altogether; to make it irrelevant.

This pattern seems to have happened a lot in living memory, greatly enabled by the disruptive powers of rapidly changing culture, society and technologies.  With the growing demand for “real”, “local”, “boutique” and “small”, are we looking at the beginning of the end for mass markets dominated by large corporations?

Perhaps that’s premature, but I’m still tempted to think that today’s seemingly impregnable corporations are inherently unsustainable because the drive to dominate their market is hard-coded into their very nature; and because this makes them pre-disposed to diminish the thing that was valuable in that market in the first place.

Folk Awards voted for by actual folk – now there’s a thought

Over the last few months, I have been able to watch at close quarters the gestation and birth of the British Awards for Storytelling Excellence (BASE), led by my friends Shonaleigh and Peter Chand, and supported by my better half, Abi.  I’ve listened in on their conversations as they’ve navigated round problems and taken on suggestions from the wider storytelling world.  I’ve found it a fascinating process to watch, because it seems that storytellers are to gain their own version of the BAFTAs, BRITs or Folk Awards, different in one important respect – the BASE Awards will be decided mainly by the public, rather than expert panels.

National awards, voted for by the public.  I think there are a couple of really powerful aspects to this.

The public aren’t an industry

Folk arts are “of the people”. They are forged by people going about their daily lives; people celebrating their lives with the turn of the seasons; people collectively expressing their joys and their hardships.  I sometimes get a little uneasy with the growing “professionalisation” of the folk arts.  I think in today’s folk arts community, in Britain, we are tentatively holding a contradiction in balance.  If folk artists are trained and professionalised performers, working in the “folk music industry”, is there a danger we’ll start redefining “folk” as a “sound” rather than a tradition or a culture?  I’m going to stick my neck out and say I think there is.

There are lots of reasons for this profesionalisation, but Awards ceremonies have a role to play. I think that Awards handed out by broadcasting or publishing institutions are inherently part of the industry.  They tend to value that which progresses the industry.  But the health of “folk” may not be best served by an industry.  It may even be poorly served if, as with rock music, the celebration of narrowly defined success leads a majority of people to think they’re not good enough to sing or play themselves, and settle for being consumers of other people’s art.

With their public nominations and voting, the BASE awards are the polar opposite of an industry.  That’s not to say that “industry” couldn’t influence things for BASE.  It might turn out that professional artists with lots of exposure can attract more votes. But with careful targeting of storytelling clubs, and careful attention to the categories, perhaps BASE will be successful in achieving a balance.

Experts tend to view things in a certain way

This point is going to risk sounding anti-academic, which I’m not. Personally speaking, I have an academic nature, and I greatly value learned experts, research and study.  We wouldn’t be where we are today without academics. They carried our traditions through wars which decimated our population and our orally-transmitted folk culture.  If not for them, we probably wouldn’t even be doing this stuff.  Alright then – here comes the “but”…

There is an acknowledged problem in anthropology (the study of people and culture) that academic knowledge or expertise can put a distance between the anthropologist studying a culture, and the people actually living the culture – and this distance can make it harder for the observer to properly understand the subject.  Some things have to be experienced or “felt”, as well as simply understood on an academic level.  Of course, this issue is understood by cultural studies and anthropology these days, so the patronising academics of yesteryear are fading into history. Hopefully.  But one of the best antidotes to this problem is to blur the distinction between academic and subject altogether, as with this Anthropological Introduction to YouTube.  The researchers there completely immersed themselves in the culture they were studying, and the voices of their “subjects” were those that were most strongly heard in the results.

So let me quickly cut to the chase before you move on to YouTube. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, folk arts are crowd-sourced art.  It doesn’t matter how expert someone is, their experience will be just one part of something which is much greater than the sum of its parts.

So who’s up for something a little different?

One of the fundamental aims of the BASE Awards is to promote storytelling as an artform, and to encourage new storytellers.  These people would have us all telling stories if they could get their way.  Well, that’s we all want as folk artists isn’t it?

I’d love to see some of the amazing and not-in-any-way famous singers in our local pub sessions celebrated every bit as much as the wonderful Bella Hardys and Jon Bodens.  I think that the folk arts would flourish even more if we could find a way of coaxing our hundreds of “hidden” singers, musicians and dancers into the limelight – if only because there would be a wider range of sources and influences to inspire us.  The influences of industry are to simplify things to make them easier to package and sell.  Publicly-decided folk awards might counter this tendency by actively seeking out the unrecorded, the unbooked and the unprofessional.

And on that beautifully clumsy note – how do we encourage unprofessional people – I think I’ll open this up to you.  What are your thoughts?

Life is too short not to live it.

Today I’m pondering life. For some especially, but perhaps for all of us, it’s stupidly short.

I am not wealthy, and am unlikely to become so.  I have chosen to do work which I think is important, and such work rarely pays well.  It seems pretty certain now that the NHS is going to be carved up, and sold off to the highest bidder; run by and for profiteers. As this happens, it stands to reason that the probability increases of my dying young from something, or having an old age blighted by the terrifying fog of dementia in a sub-standard care home.

In no way do I mean to be melodramatic. If life has some shit in store for me, I’d like to face it with dignity rather than despair or anger. But this reminds me how important it is to live the life I have now. Not to give in and get a “proper job” that takes my life moment-by-moment in return for pieces of silver. Nor must I waste life getting angry with corporations or people in power.  ”Don’t get angry, get even”, it is said, and perhaps the best form of protest is a life well lived – in spite of all the things arrayed against us to shorten our lives: wage slaverycorporate negligencewar.

The best things in life are not things, and cost nothing. I need to find, savour and share them now, while I have my life and my health, in the full knowledge that life and health are very limited resources.

But perhaps this is simply acknowledging the human condition?

Have Moleskine, will travel.

My new music Moleskine arrived today. After messing about with all kinds of digital methods for capturing and recording tunes for quick retrieval in sessions, I’ve come to the decision that paper and pencil is the best technology available for the job.

So that’s my evening sorted out. I shall lovingly sketch in a few tunes I’m currently trying to work into my repertoire. I’ve a hunch that the simple act of writing tunes into my “repertoire book” will help me learn and remember them in itself.

Our newest addition to the family!

My first bagpipes were Nothumbrian smallpipes, bought from Dave Burleigh in 1998.  They got me into piping and also (since they needed a bit of fettling over the years) into pipe-making.  In about 2002 I decided to sell my Burleigh smallpipes, which I did successfully, and that I’d make some smallpipes of my own… which remains one of my many projects that never got past the ideas phase.  So I’ve been sans smallpipes for nearly a decade, and wearing a sad face for much of that time.

However, I am a happy Mark today, for yesterday it was my great fortune to be able to buy some smallpipes.  These lovely pipes have some real piping history behind them, I think. They belonged to the respected Nottingham folklorist Anne Cockburn, who sadly died just a few weeks ago after a long illness.  That alone leaves me feeling a deep sense of responsibility to bring them back into playing order and get them regularly heard.  That they were also made by Lincolnshire pipe-maker John Addison is even more wonderful.

Looking around the internet (here & here) I learned that John Addison was from South London and moved to South Somercotes, Lincolnshire in the early seventies, from where he made pipes full time. He made many different kinds of pipes, including uillean pipes, border pipes, pastoral pipes, Northumbrian smallpipes and Musettes du Cour. He was also one of the first revivalists of the Scottish Smallpipes, and recreated a Lincolnshire bagpipe based on his extensive research into historical carvings and drawings. After suffering a stroke at the Saint Chartier festival in the late eighties it seems John wasn’t able to continue making pipes, and he died some time in the nineties.

As someone who lives in Sheffield, and plays primarily English music, I am overjoyed to be able to care for and play these pipes, crafted by English maker.  And they really are beautifully made.  They have a 7-key chanter in the traditional “F” pitch, somewhere between F and F#. They have 3 drones (four is more common, but I like the simplicity of just the three). They have a very warm tone with good volume, based on stable brass drone reeds. I particularly love the drones’ pitch-changing ferrules, which are made with great precision, have an uncluttered and simple appearance, and are easy and effective to use.

This morning I’ve given them a bit of a clean. I’ve cleaned some mildew from the bag and bellows and dressed both with neatsfoot oil.  The key springs are not working too well – I’ll start by dismantling them and giving them a good clean, but I may need to re-spring most of them to get them popping nicely.  The plastic caps are looking a little old and yellowed, so I may well re-turn them in a pale, local wood – perhaps pear, ash or willow.  I don’t know if the bag cover is to my taste, and it’s a little discoloured.  But I don’t want to do so much that I change the character of this instrument, so I think I’ll start by giving the cover a careful hand wash, and then see if I can learn to love it for what it is.

So, I’ll leave you with one last picture for now, while I go and play some more!  If you have any more information on either Anne Cockburn or John Addison, please do leave a comment. I’d love to find out more about them.

Debs Newbold’s great boost for storytelling in Must Come Down

Debs Newbold, “Must Come Down”, Nov 2011.
Credit: James McDonald.

Back in July, I saw Must Come Down by Morris Offspring at Sheffield’s Library Theatre.  The Library Theatre was pants, as always.  Morris Offspring anything but.  I was deeply moved by the energy and spirit of Must Come Down.  Mine weren’t the only moist eyes in the audience by the time the exuberant finale was over.

Debs Newbold‘s storytelling was one of the aspects of the show that was particularly wonderful. So when I heard of the British Awards for Storytelling Excellence, I decided to nominate Debs.

One thing in particular which struck me about Debs was the way her storytelling seemed so natural. It started as MCing and “grew” into storytelling – or perhaps ebbed and flowed between the two. It was difficult to tell where friendly, welcoming banter with the audience ended and her rich, deep, vivid, poetic telling began. As well as being moved to tears by her telling (which I guess you’d expect of any teller worth their salt), I think this unpretentious delivery was perfect for a multi-arts setting for storytelling – being very accessible, and likely to slyly “win over” people unfamiliar or ill-disposed towards storytelling.

More generally, I think this fusion of story, song and dance was successful because it didn’t seem like a fusion, so naturally and organically did Debs weave spoken word into the rhythms, sounds and aesthetics of Must Come Down. Whenever I see Morris Dancing in the future, I’ll be wondering where the storytelling is.

If you’re anywhere near Sidmouth this Wednesday 8th August, you’ll be a fool if you miss Morris Offspring performing Must Come Down at the Bulverton, 8pm, as part of Sidmouth Folk Week. Get yourself a ticket or five – you know you want to.

And see a mouth-watering preview here:

Yay for a clean reed and C#!

Just gave my chanter reed a good clean – soaking it in vinegar for a few minutes and then “blowing” lots of warm tap water through it. Before I thought to do this I was sure my reed was on its last legs as a couple of notes were a bit flat and I couldn’t sound C#. Works perfectly now though, with the cleaning and having “opened” the reed a little by gently squeezing the sides. I celebrated with a few blasts through Bourrée Aurore Sand which lacks sparkle without a C#. Nelly the Elephant is also possible now, but we won’t talk about that. Ahem.