outsiders blog
Time to get organised one would imagine
The rather grandly named Folkestone Studio is one end of my kitchen in Cheriton. It’s 2.1m x 1.6m (6’8” x 5’2”) space which if it were a garden shed, I would consider myself quite well endowed. It’s a space for me in the house where no other space exists, so they stuck me there. It should really be a table and chair area for eating toast and drinking coffee. But we are more of a ‘do most things on our lap’ family. We sneer at trays with a controlled disdain. And there I have been for eight and a half years slowly acquiring things that are, to put it mildly, ‘good for my mental health’. Always been a keen PC gamer, always enjoyed dabbling with sound ever since the late 1970’s where I butchered two Stylophones into one bizarre sounding aberration that Dubreq would not have approved of.
It’s become a mass of wires and cables, things I’ve bought that I need right now and to future proof my insular hobbies, brand new things in boxes. Things are piled on top of other things, the lighting is terrible, I can never find a fucking thing even having just placed it down not ten minutes ago. So, I set about making sense of the chaos, putting the chaos into order. It wouldn’t hurt. I’m going to start in February, Christmas for me is always something to get out the way first.
Draw up a list: The tiled floor is stone cold on my already stone-cold feet (poor circulation) and the air brick vents don’t exactly make it a very cosy corner. I’m going to need a thick insulating carpet with underlay. Just get a cut-off from Remland in Folkestone and still end up taking most of it over the tip. Carpet tiles would make more sense but it’s too much fiddling about. I rarely trust myself with a sharp Stanley knife at the best of times.
The single ceiling light that is annoyingly behind me can be replaced with a three-spot light. I know my live from my neutral, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
The huge bookcase that shouldn’t be in the kitchen in the first place, even though it is full of cookery books that my wife never looks at, can be moved to the top of the stairs. The postman, sorry, post woman who wears Lycra knee length shorts no matter what the temperature outside, can peer upwards whilst I sign her small digital screen with all the detail of one of King Kong’s finger tips, and see how cultured and educated we appear.
Can’t do much with the huge 1939 electrical cupboard on the wall, needs a good restoration. And the bit where the power goes through the ceiling for the shower pump needs a functional tidy, because before you know it, the fucking thing will blow again and I’ll have to replace it. The central heating pipes can be boxed in, I’ve done it almost everywhere else, I’m even getting quite good at it.
I need another desk to surround me on three sides. A simple IKEA thing where you just screw four long legs into the base and fuck me, you have a desk. Plenty of leg room and storage underneath, I need more storage, just the cheap plastic shit ones from The Range.
I bought a TASCAM mixing desk to compliment my music software, haven’t had the room to set it up, I’m sure my listeners will appreciate the improved vocal sound my mic will be able to process through the superb Japanese pre-amps. This Focusrite interface is a good entry level device but it’s time to go up a notch. And who doesn’t like a few tactile sliders and knobs to fiddle with. I’ll keep the Focusrite as a back-up.
I would like to invest in some whisper quiet PC fans but I maybe getting a little above myself. That’s what noise gates are for.
I toyed with the idea of constructing a dry wall to make it more of a sound absorbent cupboard, to also keep the chip fat from forming a thin film over my equipment, but having never built one before, even though I’ve watched YouTube videos showing me how easy it is with the right tools, I’m shit at plastering. The wife doesn’t want to look at ‘scabby plasterboard with trade writing on it’ for the rest of her days. Which she most certainly would have to. The Brexit price of wood and building materials is also a factor. And no I didn’t vote for it in the first place.
I’m also hoping that when I entirely clear the area, I will eventually find that right ear pod I dropped on the floor, several months ago.
Wednesday, January 28, 2026
It’s become a mass of wires and cables, things I’ve bought that I need right now and to future proof my insular hobbies, brand new things in boxes. Things are piled on top of other things, the lighting is terrible, I can never find a fucking thing even having just placed it down not ten minutes ago. So, I set about making sense of the chaos, putting the chaos into order. It wouldn’t hurt. I’m going to start in February, Christmas for me is always something to get out the way first.
Draw up a list: The tiled floor is stone cold on my already stone-cold feet (poor circulation) and the air brick vents don’t exactly make it a very cosy corner. I’m going to need a thick insulating carpet with underlay. Just get a cut-off from Remland in Folkestone and still end up taking most of it over the tip. Carpet tiles would make more sense but it’s too much fiddling about. I rarely trust myself with a sharp Stanley knife at the best of times.
The single ceiling light that is annoyingly behind me can be replaced with a three-spot light. I know my live from my neutral, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
The huge bookcase that shouldn’t be in the kitchen in the first place, even though it is full of cookery books that my wife never looks at, can be moved to the top of the stairs. The postman, sorry, post woman who wears Lycra knee length shorts no matter what the temperature outside, can peer upwards whilst I sign her small digital screen with all the detail of one of King Kong’s finger tips, and see how cultured and educated we appear.
Can’t do much with the huge 1939 electrical cupboard on the wall, needs a good restoration. And the bit where the power goes through the ceiling for the shower pump needs a functional tidy, because before you know it, the fucking thing will blow again and I’ll have to replace it. The central heating pipes can be boxed in, I’ve done it almost everywhere else, I’m even getting quite good at it.
I need another desk to surround me on three sides. A simple IKEA thing where you just screw four long legs into the base and fuck me, you have a desk. Plenty of leg room and storage underneath, I need more storage, just the cheap plastic shit ones from The Range.
I bought a TASCAM mixing desk to compliment my music software, haven’t had the room to set it up, I’m sure my listeners will appreciate the improved vocal sound my mic will be able to process through the superb Japanese pre-amps. This Focusrite interface is a good entry level device but it’s time to go up a notch. And who doesn’t like a few tactile sliders and knobs to fiddle with. I’ll keep the Focusrite as a back-up.
I would like to invest in some whisper quiet PC fans but I maybe getting a little above myself. That’s what noise gates are for.
I toyed with the idea of constructing a dry wall to make it more of a sound absorbent cupboard, to also keep the chip fat from forming a thin film over my equipment, but having never built one before, even though I’ve watched YouTube videos showing me how easy it is with the right tools, I’m shit at plastering. The wife doesn’t want to look at ‘scabby plasterboard with trade writing on it’ for the rest of her days. Which she most certainly would have to. The Brexit price of wood and building materials is also a factor. And no I didn’t vote for it in the first place.
I’m also hoping that when I entirely clear the area, I will eventually find that right ear pod I dropped on the floor, several months ago.
And So It Begins, Another Fucking Blog
So why have I waited almost two years to start a blog thing concerning the show? Not sure really, I'm making it up as I go along? I never wanted to be a 'disc jockey', it was never a burning ambition. I was looking around for a show to listen to that played everything I had ever liked and new things that I'd never heard of, things I’d missed, and I’d missed plenty along the way. Playing things I didn't like just to get an easy audience, playing to a crowd, wasn't really an option. I searched high and low, and it slowly dawned on me, that I might as well do it myself.
I was that guy, one of those guys back in the 1980’s who bought records and made a C90 for a friend. I guess to coerce them to like the things I did so it would be much easier to get them to go to gigs with me. Turning up on your bod is not much fun. My friends at secondary school liked mainstream stuff, heavy metal and American soft rock. And this was when the Sex Pistols was kicking off for fucks sake. Blue Oyster Cult my arse.
So how do you do it? Sat at home with loads of music, a Windows computer, a decent gaming headset, a mp3 music player… and loads of free time.
It seemed the best idea to see where I could do it, DIY style, and to be honest there really wasn’t much choice unless you were already involved with a radio station, one that did things through an aerial or online. I mentioned in Facebook whether any of my old indie friends would like to start an online indie station from scratch. I got no replies or reactions whatsoever, so I thought to myself, this sounds like a great fucking idea.
I happened upon Mixcloud and it seemed to offer everything I needed. I could stream live or upload pre-recorded things with no limits, I could archive the shows, and they wouldn’t get taken down due to copyright issues. All for £9.00 a month. It recommended I use OBS studio to stream and record with, an amazing free piece of software.
The show always had a strong visual identity before any shows were recorded. I sat with paint.net in front of me (another free piece of software) and designed the ‘logo’ I guess you’d call it, the brand? It’s stayed pretty much the same ever since.
The name was a bit of a risk. Do people in general like to identify with being outside looking in? Do they want their groups and music being aligned with not appealing to a ‘mainstream’? It also conflicted with Outsiders The Musical. But to be honest, I don’t think it was ever going to be called anything else. The outsider was me.
Friday, January 09, 2026
I was that guy, one of those guys back in the 1980’s who bought records and made a C90 for a friend. I guess to coerce them to like the things I did so it would be much easier to get them to go to gigs with me. Turning up on your bod is not much fun. My friends at secondary school liked mainstream stuff, heavy metal and American soft rock. And this was when the Sex Pistols was kicking off for fucks sake. Blue Oyster Cult my arse.
So how do you do it? Sat at home with loads of music, a Windows computer, a decent gaming headset, a mp3 music player… and loads of free time.
It seemed the best idea to see where I could do it, DIY style, and to be honest there really wasn’t much choice unless you were already involved with a radio station, one that did things through an aerial or online. I mentioned in Facebook whether any of my old indie friends would like to start an online indie station from scratch. I got no replies or reactions whatsoever, so I thought to myself, this sounds like a great fucking idea.
I happened upon Mixcloud and it seemed to offer everything I needed. I could stream live or upload pre-recorded things with no limits, I could archive the shows, and they wouldn’t get taken down due to copyright issues. All for £9.00 a month. It recommended I use OBS studio to stream and record with, an amazing free piece of software.
The show always had a strong visual identity before any shows were recorded. I sat with paint.net in front of me (another free piece of software) and designed the ‘logo’ I guess you’d call it, the brand? It’s stayed pretty much the same ever since.
The name was a bit of a risk. Do people in general like to identify with being outside looking in? Do they want their groups and music being aligned with not appealing to a ‘mainstream’? It also conflicted with Outsiders The Musical. But to be honest, I don’t think it was ever going to be called anything else. The outsider was me.
