London Fields # 91
First published Inpress (Issue # 1172), Melbourne on 4 May 2011, and Drum Media (Issue # 1058), Sydney on 3 May 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Were you aware than six out of ten Australians want to change their current electoral voting system to the one used in the UK? Neither was I, but this has been a key claim of the “No” campaign for the upcoming UK referendum. Saturation media coverage of a certain London event may have overshadowed it, but this has the potential to have far greater and longer-reaching effects on the future of the United Kingdom than the wedding of a possible future monarch. May 5th marks only the second national referendum in British history, on a potential change to the voting system. Currently British elections use First Past The Post (FPTP), a system where the candidate who receives the highest number of primary votes is elected, regardless of how few votes they receive. After the last indecisive UK election, the Tories and Liberal Democrats spent days trying to reach a compromise to form a coalition government, and voting reform was a key discussion. The LibDems wanted Proportional Representation (PR), but had to settle for a referendum to change from FPTP to AV (Alternative Vote). AV, also known as preferential voting, is very similar to what is used in Australia, except under AV you don’t have to rank all the candidates (single transferable vote).
It’s been a nasty campaign, full of disinformation. The “six out of ten Australians” figure came from a leading question put to 1202 people in a single survey conducted over three days last October. The “No” side points out only Papua New Guinea, Fiji and Australia use preferential voting and seem to imply that perhaps it is not quite democratic. They claim that AV will led to every government being a coalition, and that the change from FPTP would mean the end of “one person, one vote”. In truth AV allows you to vote for who you want to win the seat (rather than tactically vote against who you might want to keep out) so it’s closer to “one person, one meaningful vote“. The “No” campaign have also claimed AV would make it easier for the ultra right (and ultra white) BNP (British National Party) to gain seats, when the converse in actually true. The votes for any party other than the BNP would weigh more heavily under AV meaning they’d have to win 50% of the primary vote to get in. No wonder BNP supremo Nick Griffin has come out in favour of the “No” campaign, but they’re not trumpeting that.
There’s another Nick who’s not really wanted by either side - that’s Deputy Prime Minister and leader of the LibDems Nick Clegg. Clegg’s record of broken promises on issues such as tuition fees has seen him used as a reason against a “Yes” vote by the “No” side. The strangest thing in the campaign has been the weird cross-party partnerships it has set up - former Labour Home Secretary John Reid with the PM on one side, and the government’s Business Secretary Vince Cable with the leader of the opposition on the other. Yet as an Australian I find it galling to see aspersions cast on a democratic system that has only failed once (when the monarch’s representative interfered in 1975), as though it was a rigged system of a backward and corrupt banana republic. In the UK David Cameron has created an unprecedented 117 new peers for the House of Lords in his first year in office (Tony Blair averaged out at 37 a year, and Gordon Brown a mere 12), which amounts to gerrymandering on a grand scale. Instead of criticising the Australian system, they should instead be learning from it; a system where the upper house is elected by the people, and elections take place on weekends, rather than during the week, to make it easier for working people to vote.
David Cameron has variously described AV as undemocratic, obscure, unfair and crazy. We’re told that it’s too complicated and expensive, and a bit hard for us to understand. In one speech he quoted Winston Churchill who saw it as a system where “the most worthless votes go to the most worthless candidate”. Yet it’s how he became party leader! David Davis received the largest number of votes in the first round of the last Conservative Party leadership contest in 2005, so under FPTP he might be the PM now. What the “No” campaign has failed to tell us is that they want us to keep a system which the parties don’t want or use themselves. Sadly the largest vote next Thursday is likely to be apathy, and then the possibility of positive change will disappear for many years to come.
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 44
Drum: Published on page 48
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Stars In Their Eyes
London Fields # 91
First published Inpress (Issue # 1168), Melbourne on 6 April 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1054), Sydney on 5 April 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Is science the new rock ’n’ roll? Over the past few years there seems to have been an ongoing and deliberate move to ‘sex-up’ science on television. Numbers of those studying sciences at schools were dropping dramatically and it was clear something had to be done. While some may claim programme makers have ‘dumbed-down’, it’s clear that the real aim was to attract large audiences while making complex ideas more comprehensible. The most game changing was Wonders Of The Solar System which finally reached Australian screens recently via on SBS. It successfully used locations around the world to illustrate surfaces of other worlds, the glorious cinematography and clear explanations drew large audiences, making it the most significant series on astronomy since Carl Sagan’s landmark Cosmos.
Here in the UK, its four-part follow-up Wonders Of The Universe has just completed its terrestrial broadcast run. It proved to be a much more controversial programme than its predecessor, for a few reasons. It didn’t have as clear reasons for the Bond-like world travelogue, which cause a kerfuffle amongst some licence payers. The volume of incidental music on television programmes has long been an area of contention, and it appears as if Universe was the first casualty of a recent BBC Report into the issue. The sound mix was radically altered after the first episode, pleasing a vocal few but equally infuriating others, including presenter Professor Brian Cox who stated, "It should be a cinematic experience – it's a piece of film on television, not a lecture." When the carefully planned sound mix was replaced with a last minute one with the background score faded down, the show definitely lost some of its majesty and impact.
Last month, The Sky at Night celebrated its landmark 700th programme. Since it began in 1957, presenter Sir Patrick Moore has only missed one monthly broadcast (in 2004 due to illness) making it the longest running show in the history of television. Sadly these days Sir Patrick Moore seems to be suffering the same fate that befell John Peel in his later years. The BBC can’t axe the show, but they can show disrespect by screening so late at night that only insomniacs catch it (although an extended repeat is shown at a reasonable time on the digital only BBC Four). Moore recently celebrated his 88th birthday, and (also like Peel) the show now comes from his home, rather than a BBC studio. These days he appears on screen less often; Dr Chris Lintott effectively anchors the show. The anniversary edition featured Dead Ringers Jon Culshaw as a younger Patrick Moore meeting his older self. And the near-ubiquitous Brian Cox. January saw Cox joined by Dara O Briain early on three consecutive weeknights for Stargazing Live, while on BBC Radio 4 The Infinite Monkey Cage saw (you guessed it) Cox teamed up with comedian Robin Ince and guests including Alexei Sayle and Tim Minchin. This is now on a national tour of music venues (as Uncaged Monkeys).
So is science the new rock ‘n’ roll? Well Kate Bush did sing Pi to 150 places on her last album Aerial, and Cox is actually a former rock star (if playing keyboards for D:Ream counts), and he’s also been building his indie kudos with a regular guest spot on BBC 6Music’s breakfast show. He is part of a new generation of younger walk-and-talk scientific experts, alongside Neil Oliver and Alice Roberts (who helped Coast to be a hit) and Scottish geologist Iain Stewart (whose Men Of Rock was actually about Scottish geologists), attempting to appeal to a wider (and younger) demographic. Back on BBC Four Professor Jim Al-Khalili is about the same age (but looking older) and his Everything and Nothing took a different take on some of the topics covered in Universe. After comedian Harry Hill pointed out the huge budgetary differences between his show and Universe, he was happy enough to don a wig and perform Helter Skelter live on TV Burp.
Yet all of this newfound interest in the skies seems of little use in London as high levels of light pollution mean it’s rare to see any more a handful of stars, and only things like the recent supermoon having much of a chance of being sighted at all . To fully appreciate these Wonders, I may need to journey to Sark in the Channel Islands which as just been officially recognised as a "dark sky island".
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 56
Drum: Published on page 56
First published Inpress (Issue # 1168), Melbourne on 6 April 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1054), Sydney on 5 April 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Is science the new rock ’n’ roll? Over the past few years there seems to have been an ongoing and deliberate move to ‘sex-up’ science on television. Numbers of those studying sciences at schools were dropping dramatically and it was clear something had to be done. While some may claim programme makers have ‘dumbed-down’, it’s clear that the real aim was to attract large audiences while making complex ideas more comprehensible. The most game changing was Wonders Of The Solar System which finally reached Australian screens recently via on SBS. It successfully used locations around the world to illustrate surfaces of other worlds, the glorious cinematography and clear explanations drew large audiences, making it the most significant series on astronomy since Carl Sagan’s landmark Cosmos.
Here in the UK, its four-part follow-up Wonders Of The Universe has just completed its terrestrial broadcast run. It proved to be a much more controversial programme than its predecessor, for a few reasons. It didn’t have as clear reasons for the Bond-like world travelogue, which cause a kerfuffle amongst some licence payers. The volume of incidental music on television programmes has long been an area of contention, and it appears as if Universe was the first casualty of a recent BBC Report into the issue. The sound mix was radically altered after the first episode, pleasing a vocal few but equally infuriating others, including presenter Professor Brian Cox who stated, "It should be a cinematic experience – it's a piece of film on television, not a lecture." When the carefully planned sound mix was replaced with a last minute one with the background score faded down, the show definitely lost some of its majesty and impact.
Last month, The Sky at Night celebrated its landmark 700th programme. Since it began in 1957, presenter Sir Patrick Moore has only missed one monthly broadcast (in 2004 due to illness) making it the longest running show in the history of television. Sadly these days Sir Patrick Moore seems to be suffering the same fate that befell John Peel in his later years. The BBC can’t axe the show, but they can show disrespect by screening so late at night that only insomniacs catch it (although an extended repeat is shown at a reasonable time on the digital only BBC Four). Moore recently celebrated his 88th birthday, and (also like Peel) the show now comes from his home, rather than a BBC studio. These days he appears on screen less often; Dr Chris Lintott effectively anchors the show. The anniversary edition featured Dead Ringers Jon Culshaw as a younger Patrick Moore meeting his older self. And the near-ubiquitous Brian Cox. January saw Cox joined by Dara O Briain early on three consecutive weeknights for Stargazing Live, while on BBC Radio 4 The Infinite Monkey Cage saw (you guessed it) Cox teamed up with comedian Robin Ince and guests including Alexei Sayle and Tim Minchin. This is now on a national tour of music venues (as Uncaged Monkeys).
So is science the new rock ‘n’ roll? Well Kate Bush did sing Pi to 150 places on her last album Aerial, and Cox is actually a former rock star (if playing keyboards for D:Ream counts), and he’s also been building his indie kudos with a regular guest spot on BBC 6Music’s breakfast show. He is part of a new generation of younger walk-and-talk scientific experts, alongside Neil Oliver and Alice Roberts (who helped Coast to be a hit) and Scottish geologist Iain Stewart (whose Men Of Rock was actually about Scottish geologists), attempting to appeal to a wider (and younger) demographic. Back on BBC Four Professor Jim Al-Khalili is about the same age (but looking older) and his Everything and Nothing took a different take on some of the topics covered in Universe. After comedian Harry Hill pointed out the huge budgetary differences between his show and Universe, he was happy enough to don a wig and perform Helter Skelter live on TV Burp.
Yet all of this newfound interest in the skies seems of little use in London as high levels of light pollution mean it’s rare to see any more a handful of stars, and only things like the recent supermoon having much of a chance of being sighted at all . To fully appreciate these Wonders, I may need to journey to Sark in the Channel Islands which as just been officially recognised as a "dark sky island".
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 56
Drum: Published on page 56
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Heard It Through The Grapevine
London Fields # 90
First published Inpress (Issue # 1164), Melbourne on 9 March 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1050), Sydney on 8 March 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Trying to get other people to listen to music you recommend can be fraught, particularly in a live setting. Get it right, and all is sweet; but friendships can strain if you get things wrong too often. So, having talked them up to a mate, I was a little trepidatious when Chips For The Poor began their set in the Brixton Windmill. Frontman Scott doesn’t really believe in microphones, or stages for that matter, as he walks in circles through the audience, hollering over the band’s assembled racket, in a slightly disturbing, unhinged yet wonderful way. Songs run continuously, the changes indicated only by a tempo shift in the drum machine until we’re all swept into the maelstrom, culminating in the monster groove that is I Am A Warrior. Returning the favour, I finally catch Blindness at the Buffalo Bar in Islington, and based on this performance, I shouldn’t have procrastinated so long. Strong basslines are key here as well, particularly on the showstopping track Broken, where the hypnotic tattoo spirals over and over while vocalist Beth Rettig writhes on the floor. Over at The Slaughtered Lamb in Clerkenwell, Josh T Pearson is playing his first London headline show in ages, featuring songs from his brilliant forthcoming album Last of the Country Gentlemen. This material is much more delicate than some of his older songs, and a quiet environment is needed to fully appreciate them. The more rapt the audience become, the quieter he sings, till it’s barely a whisper, and the loudest sound in the room is the intrusive click of an SLR lens.
None of these acts appeared on any of those ‘Sound of 2011’ lists; as sadly these are often more indicative of a marketing department budget than what they should be - a list of acts that should succeed and so deserve recognition and support. This year’s longlist did have Anna Calvi, whose self-titled debut album was not without some distinctively impressive tracks, while Brighton’s Esben And The Witch were remarkable in sounding nothing like anything else on the list. Regrettably for them in the eighteen months between their self-released EP and debut album Violet Cries, other artists have come along with similar ideas. Seeing EATW play recently in Nottingham, I was struck at how all embracing their sound is. Songs tend to blend into each other a little, but the whole effect is mesmerising. But there’s so much more going on at the moment than these lists indicate.
While Brighton’s Mirrors may be this year’s Hurts (or another OMD), on the harder side of electronica there’s Factory Floor, who sound like they could have appeared in Dogs In Space. Talking old school, next month sees a pioneer go back to analogue equipment with Interplay by John Foxx and the Maths, while Credo is the first album of original material from The Human League in a decade, while Blanc Burn marks 25 years since the last studio album from Blancmange (and there’s a UK tour as well). When some acts will never reform, it is a problem if Still Corners evoke the spirit of Slowdive, or if the genuinely uplifting Veronica Falls sound like a lost release from 20 years ago? Texans Ringo Deathstarr were barely old enough to be aware of music when the music that now inspires them was being released, but Colour Trip fairly rattles along in a way few contemporary albums do. Through the vagaries of international releases, you may also have missed Through Low Light And Trees by Smoke Fairies, a nu-folk duo whose haunting melodies fulfil the promised they displayed when I first saw play in a small Hackney bar some years back. Meanwhile Life! Death! Prizes!, the second album from Shrag (an acronym of Sussex Heights Roving Artists Group) has a much stronger song structure than their debut, as illustrated by the moving duet Coda and Rabbit Kids, one of the catchiest singles of the past 12 months.
I suppose my point is that there’s much more going on that you can get from any one source. I’ve discovered most of the above acts almost by chance - hearing a live session on the radio, seeing them as a support act, or from friends’ recommendations. So even though we’re told that blogs have supposedly replaced printed music papers and the internet makes us all critics now, I think that word-of-mouth is still a powerful tool, and that there’s still a validity in reading about music that may inspire you to seek out the sounds afterwards.
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 56
Drum: Published on page 54
First published Inpress (Issue # 1164), Melbourne on 9 March 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1050), Sydney on 8 March 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Trying to get other people to listen to music you recommend can be fraught, particularly in a live setting. Get it right, and all is sweet; but friendships can strain if you get things wrong too often. So, having talked them up to a mate, I was a little trepidatious when Chips For The Poor began their set in the Brixton Windmill. Frontman Scott doesn’t really believe in microphones, or stages for that matter, as he walks in circles through the audience, hollering over the band’s assembled racket, in a slightly disturbing, unhinged yet wonderful way. Songs run continuously, the changes indicated only by a tempo shift in the drum machine until we’re all swept into the maelstrom, culminating in the monster groove that is I Am A Warrior. Returning the favour, I finally catch Blindness at the Buffalo Bar in Islington, and based on this performance, I shouldn’t have procrastinated so long. Strong basslines are key here as well, particularly on the showstopping track Broken, where the hypnotic tattoo spirals over and over while vocalist Beth Rettig writhes on the floor. Over at The Slaughtered Lamb in Clerkenwell, Josh T Pearson is playing his first London headline show in ages, featuring songs from his brilliant forthcoming album Last of the Country Gentlemen. This material is much more delicate than some of his older songs, and a quiet environment is needed to fully appreciate them. The more rapt the audience become, the quieter he sings, till it’s barely a whisper, and the loudest sound in the room is the intrusive click of an SLR lens.
None of these acts appeared on any of those ‘Sound of 2011’ lists; as sadly these are often more indicative of a marketing department budget than what they should be - a list of acts that should succeed and so deserve recognition and support. This year’s longlist did have Anna Calvi, whose self-titled debut album was not without some distinctively impressive tracks, while Brighton’s Esben And The Witch were remarkable in sounding nothing like anything else on the list. Regrettably for them in the eighteen months between their self-released EP and debut album Violet Cries, other artists have come along with similar ideas. Seeing EATW play recently in Nottingham, I was struck at how all embracing their sound is. Songs tend to blend into each other a little, but the whole effect is mesmerising. But there’s so much more going on at the moment than these lists indicate.
While Brighton’s Mirrors may be this year’s Hurts (or another OMD), on the harder side of electronica there’s Factory Floor, who sound like they could have appeared in Dogs In Space. Talking old school, next month sees a pioneer go back to analogue equipment with Interplay by John Foxx and the Maths, while Credo is the first album of original material from The Human League in a decade, while Blanc Burn marks 25 years since the last studio album from Blancmange (and there’s a UK tour as well). When some acts will never reform, it is a problem if Still Corners evoke the spirit of Slowdive, or if the genuinely uplifting Veronica Falls sound like a lost release from 20 years ago? Texans Ringo Deathstarr were barely old enough to be aware of music when the music that now inspires them was being released, but Colour Trip fairly rattles along in a way few contemporary albums do. Through the vagaries of international releases, you may also have missed Through Low Light And Trees by Smoke Fairies, a nu-folk duo whose haunting melodies fulfil the promised they displayed when I first saw play in a small Hackney bar some years back. Meanwhile Life! Death! Prizes!, the second album from Shrag (an acronym of Sussex Heights Roving Artists Group) has a much stronger song structure than their debut, as illustrated by the moving duet Coda and Rabbit Kids, one of the catchiest singles of the past 12 months.
I suppose my point is that there’s much more going on that you can get from any one source. I’ve discovered most of the above acts almost by chance - hearing a live session on the radio, seeing them as a support act, or from friends’ recommendations. So even though we’re told that blogs have supposedly replaced printed music papers and the internet makes us all critics now, I think that word-of-mouth is still a powerful tool, and that there’s still a validity in reading about music that may inspire you to seek out the sounds afterwards.
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 56
Drum: Published on page 54
Wednesday, 9 February 2011
That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore
London Fields # 89
First published Inpress (Issue # 1160), Melbourne on 9 February 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1046), Sydney on 8 February 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
“We are live; please do not swear”. The axing of Big Brother may have seen this catchphrase pass into the annals of TV history, but it also seems as if taboos are shifting also. On three occasions recently BBC presenters have inadvertently dropped the c-bomb whilst taking about the current government. Meanwhile Channel 4 advertised their scrapping of the 10” broadcast delay for the 21st British Comedy Awards, ensuing all the naughty words would be unable to be expurgated. The ceremony this year was fairly tame; Miranda Hart was the night’s big winner; and the most significant comedy story began when members of Top Gear made comments about the sexism row concerning Sky Sports presenters backstage.
In the following weeks Top Gear ended up in the news again after some questionable racial stereotype jibes aimed at Mexicans and their ambassador to the UK featured in a recent edition. Now Ambassador Eduardo Medina-Mora Icaza didn’t take too kindly to this; far from being indolent, he had put his life in peril leading a major campaign against drug gangs prior to his London posting. Last Saturday Jeremy Clarkson used his column in The Sun to apologise, claiming that offence is necessary in humour; the column ended with another ethnic joke about Mexico. So what are the taboos in comedy nowadays - terrorism, racism, political incorrectness, disability? Over the weekend, Steve Coogan, clearly incensed by the situation, wrote in The Guardian that “…you can get away with saying unsayable things if it's done with some sense of culpability”, believing that that comedy should have a “moral standpoint“ targeting “hypocrisy, human frailty, narrow-mindedness“.
A couple of weeks ago I was in the audience for the filming of four episodes of the second series of Stewart Lee’s Comedy Vehicle. By far the most edgy section was an appreciation of the IRA - “gentlemen bombers” with achievable aims, whose street art was a natural precursor to Banksy. Lee’s skilled in irony, but sailing so close to the wind makes misinterpretation ever more likely. His 2009 Edinburgh show If You Prefer A Milder Comedian Please Ask For One had a lengthy section on Top Gear, wishing all sorts of terrible calamities to befall their presenters, and their families. His get-out phrase there was the same one they use on Top Gear, that it’s “just a joke“. It may seem like a long time ago, but the repercussions of the phone messages Russell Brand and Jonathon Ross left on Andrew Sach’s answering machine are still being felt. Sachsgate was the 5th most complained about incident that broadcasting watchdog Ofcom have received in the last decade (with Lee‘s own Jerry Springer The Opera at #3), and the BBC has only just aired an episode of Never Mind The Buzzcocks filmed two years earlier as Brand had been a panellist in it. What you can do on stage, or on DVD ,is very different to what you can do as a state broadcaster, so it’ll be interesting to see if the BBC, still smarting from Sachsgate, allow all of Lee’s material to go to air.
Over on Channel 4, Frankie Boyle's Tramadol Nights also made headlines. After the initial fuss about a joke involving disability and incest had subsided, his use of the racist P-bomb and n-bomb in the fourth episode raised shackles again. In context the joke was a variation of “the ethnicities of the fatalities were, in order of importance…”, but here using evocative terminology for those at the bottom. Boyle displays a mean intelligence. Mean is a particularly apposite description; his comedy is a cross between the vitriolic rantings of a misanthrope and a carefully planned assault pushing the boundaries of what is acceptable. While sometimes very funny, it’s also spiteful and vindictive with a nastiness that can leave a distinctly unpleasant taste.
Speaking in Germany last Saturday, British Prime Minister David Cameron echoed the words spoken by German Chancellor Angela Merkel last October when he said that multiculturalism was an experiment that had failed. On the same day in Luton, the EDL mounted a massive demonstration against Islam. Meanwhile last Thursday, the BBC decided not to film a certain section of an upcoming Stephen Fry programme in Japan after the backlash over a section on QI where jokes were made about Tsutomu Yamaguchi, the only official survivor of both nuclear blasts in Japan in 1945. Taboos can be challenged, as Chris Morris did last year with Four Lions. But maybe it’s time for some to stop hiding behind the safety curtain of ‘political correctness gone mad’. and be seen for what they are - the classroom stirrer deliberately making provocative statements just to get attention.
© James McGalliard 2011
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
In The Bleak Midwinter
London Fields # 88
First published Inpress (Issue # 1056), Melbourne on 12 January 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1042), Sydney on 11 January 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
One of the most successful dramas on British television in recent years came late in 2010 when Oscar winning screenwriter Julian Fellowes based his new series on life above and below stairs in Edwardian society. Downton Abbey proved to be perfect Sunday night viewing and a huge ratings success for ITV, regularly pulling over 10 million viewers. As far as drama goes this was more like a filling pudding than a substantial meal, but it did seem to carry some interesting subtexts, such as how kind the ruling class are, and wasn’t it better and wonderfully reassuring when people knew their place in society? Staying in to watch TV was especially appealing recently; December 2010 was the coldest since records began, while the average temperature of -1C coincided with a big hike in fuel prices. Shops saw their revenues fall far below expectation as snow kept customers away. With January came a further disincentive to spending as VAT rose from 17.5% to 20%, as part of a raft of measures and cuts imposed by the government to tackle the UK’s enormous debt. This was followed by the news that music giant HMV would be shutting 40 of its stores (along with 20 Waterstones bookshops) by the end of 2011. The rise in VAT will affect the poorest most of all, and will help to widen the gap between the haves and the have-nots. As much as the last government failed in its moves towards a classless society, it seems that the new one is intent on making those divisions clear once again.
In his new year address Prime Minister David Cameron stated that these drastic actions were “not out of some ideological zeal”, yet these austerity measures aren’t merely emergency arrangements to be removed when the crises eases, but permanent changes. “We are all in this together” he continued, as the scrapping of the education maintenance allowance (EMA) will make it harder for children in poorer families to stay in education. Meanwhile there has been no move to restrict bankers’ bonuses, and no sign of a more equitable Robin Hood tax. Many of the decisions seem impulsive, like the axing of the Bookstart programme to encourage young readers, which, following protest, was partially reprieved. Transport fares rose sharply for yet another year, and my annual season ticket now costs 25% more than two years ago. It’s been over four years since there was a weekend without any line closures on the London Underground - we’re told that these works and the fare rises are necessary to make improvements before the 2012 Olympics. Yet The Olympic Delivery Authority recently admitted that London Transport will only cope during that period if Londoners don’t actually use the service during the period of the games, and suggests they walk, or work from home instead.
While WikiLeaks revelations drew headlines, on the streets of Birmingham weeks of uncollected rubbish piled up in the streets as a result of snowfall and ongoing work-to-rule industrial action. As cuts hit local services very hard, this may just be the start of things to come. Sharon Shoesmith, who was dismissed from her job as director of children's services in Haringey council over the tragic death of Peter Connelly (better known as "Baby P") said last Friday that these cuts could impact children protection services and so increase the odds of similar tragedies. In the West End, Baby Blue Eyes, a new musical based on the 1983 film A Private Function is using as its tagline: “It's 1947 - austerity Britain, belts are being tightened, fair shares for all, the coldest winter in decades and a Royal wedding. Sound familiar?”. In today’s Britain 12-year-old Nicky Wishart is pulled out of lessons and interrogated by anti-terrorism officers after setting up a Facebook event to protest at the closure of his local youth club in Cameron’s constituency. Meanwhile The Office for National Statistics is setting up methods of measuring the happiness of people living in the UK. Is this the Big Society we were promised? On the streets battle lines are being drawn, between protesters and police, or against groups such as the anti-immigration English Defence League (EDL). It’s as though the country is at war. Yet the only thing it seems to be fighting is itself.
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 54
Drum: Published on page 56
First published Inpress (Issue # 1056), Melbourne on 12 January 2011, and in Drum Media (Issue # 1042), Sydney on 11 January 2011
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
One of the most successful dramas on British television in recent years came late in 2010 when Oscar winning screenwriter Julian Fellowes based his new series on life above and below stairs in Edwardian society. Downton Abbey proved to be perfect Sunday night viewing and a huge ratings success for ITV, regularly pulling over 10 million viewers. As far as drama goes this was more like a filling pudding than a substantial meal, but it did seem to carry some interesting subtexts, such as how kind the ruling class are, and wasn’t it better and wonderfully reassuring when people knew their place in society? Staying in to watch TV was especially appealing recently; December 2010 was the coldest since records began, while the average temperature of -1C coincided with a big hike in fuel prices. Shops saw their revenues fall far below expectation as snow kept customers away. With January came a further disincentive to spending as VAT rose from 17.5% to 20%, as part of a raft of measures and cuts imposed by the government to tackle the UK’s enormous debt. This was followed by the news that music giant HMV would be shutting 40 of its stores (along with 20 Waterstones bookshops) by the end of 2011. The rise in VAT will affect the poorest most of all, and will help to widen the gap between the haves and the have-nots. As much as the last government failed in its moves towards a classless society, it seems that the new one is intent on making those divisions clear once again.
In his new year address Prime Minister David Cameron stated that these drastic actions were “not out of some ideological zeal”, yet these austerity measures aren’t merely emergency arrangements to be removed when the crises eases, but permanent changes. “We are all in this together” he continued, as the scrapping of the education maintenance allowance (EMA) will make it harder for children in poorer families to stay in education. Meanwhile there has been no move to restrict bankers’ bonuses, and no sign of a more equitable Robin Hood tax. Many of the decisions seem impulsive, like the axing of the Bookstart programme to encourage young readers, which, following protest, was partially reprieved. Transport fares rose sharply for yet another year, and my annual season ticket now costs 25% more than two years ago. It’s been over four years since there was a weekend without any line closures on the London Underground - we’re told that these works and the fare rises are necessary to make improvements before the 2012 Olympics. Yet The Olympic Delivery Authority recently admitted that London Transport will only cope during that period if Londoners don’t actually use the service during the period of the games, and suggests they walk, or work from home instead.
While WikiLeaks revelations drew headlines, on the streets of Birmingham weeks of uncollected rubbish piled up in the streets as a result of snowfall and ongoing work-to-rule industrial action. As cuts hit local services very hard, this may just be the start of things to come. Sharon Shoesmith, who was dismissed from her job as director of children's services in Haringey council over the tragic death of Peter Connelly (better known as "Baby P") said last Friday that these cuts could impact children protection services and so increase the odds of similar tragedies. In the West End, Baby Blue Eyes, a new musical based on the 1983 film A Private Function is using as its tagline: “It's 1947 - austerity Britain, belts are being tightened, fair shares for all, the coldest winter in decades and a Royal wedding. Sound familiar?”. In today’s Britain 12-year-old Nicky Wishart is pulled out of lessons and interrogated by anti-terrorism officers after setting up a Facebook event to protest at the closure of his local youth club in Cameron’s constituency. Meanwhile The Office for National Statistics is setting up methods of measuring the happiness of people living in the UK. Is this the Big Society we were promised? On the streets battle lines are being drawn, between protesters and police, or against groups such as the anti-immigration English Defence League (EDL). It’s as though the country is at war. Yet the only thing it seems to be fighting is itself.
© James McGalliard 2011
Inpress: Published on page 54
Drum: Published on page 56
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Christmas Wrapping
London Fields # 86
First published Inpress (Issue # 1055), Melbourne on 29 December 2010, and in a shortened version in Drum Media (Issue # 1041), Sydney on 28 December 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
2010 was a year was marked by enforced inactivity, from environmental factors stopping travel to musicians actively not playing to raise money for charity. There was an election without a winner, and the country seemed to be the loser. A year that began with slacktivism ended with riots on the streets and the threat of water cannons to control them. A temporary immigration cap was ruled as unlawful, and the spectre of swine flu appeared, was forgotten about and then returned with the Yuletide snows. The island nature of Britain was emphasised again and again, as it was isolated by weather conditions and volcanic eruptions. In the weeks of silent skies brought on by the Icelandic volcano, it seemed British sea power was the only way to get off this island, or get back to it. The flotilla of boats crossing the channel were portrayed as embodying the Dunkirk spirit, but the panic as crammed ferries departed leaving some stranded in France seemed more like the last days of Saigon.
Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg seemed to offer a third way, and won many student votes with promises not to introduce tuition fees for tertiary students. When these (and other) election promises evaporated at the first important vote, there was justifiable anger leading to a series of demonstrations and near riots in cities across the country. Austerity was the catchphrase, and the pre-election word hope was quickly replaced by despair. The recession continued, and Royal Mail was offered up for privatisation. The only bright spot seemed to be BBC 6Music being spared the axe.
The National reached a greater audience with High Violet, but are still waiting for that R.E.M. style breakthrough. Although their London shows were blighted with poor sound, Archie Bronson Outfit’s Coconut was a remarkable curveball, in many ways achieving what Grinderman’s latest failed to do. Exit Calm’s self-titled debut captured the power of their live shows, while Stephen Jones revived BabyBird and on Ex Maniac created some of the pithiest pop in years. Peter Gabriel’s covers album may have been uninspiring, but his live orchestral show in the cavernous O2 was a one of the live performances of the year for me, along with shows from Julian Cope at Brighton’s Komedia, and Get Well Soon at the Borderline. Although larger venues thrived, some great smaller venues (such as The Luminaire) were lost.
On television, Misfits won the BAFTA for best drama, and returned with a strong second series, but Vexed showed writer Howard Overman could also get things badly wrong. Crime drama was everywhere, with The Silence continuing the trend of strip programming across consecutive weeknights. Luther allowed Idris Elba a British starring vehicle after The Wire, while Thorne showed Sky could produce drama and Sherlock was over too soon. The BBC also continued their run of excellent biopics, but their strongest contributions seemed to be documentaries - from Matt Frei’s excellent Berlin, through BBC Four‘s Maps season, to Michael Cockerell’s fascinating The Great Offices of State. But best of all was Wonders of the Solar System, where former D:Ream keyboard player Professor Brian Cox won huge audiences, by bring physics and astronomy together in a fascinating, involving, understandable yet uncondescending way.
While some of the old favourites, like The IT Crowd and Peep Show, showed definite signs of wear, it was a great year for new comedy on TV. Getting On returned for its first full series, while Rev. and Whites both became definite weekly highlights. Stand-up played a big role, but The Steven K Amos Show felt like a ‘70s timewarp and was barely watchable, while with Lee Nelson’s Well Good Show Simon Brodkin showed how well a live studio audience can be used. Harry Hill’s TV Burp and Charlie Brooker’s Wipe shows also were essential viewing, and I had a soft-spot for Mongrels whose puppets allowed them to get away with jokes living performers never could.
2010 saw the final death throes of New Labour, a government no one voted for seizing power, and the phrase ‘The Troubles in Ireland’ take on new meaning. It was the year that the World Cup bid wasn’t won, but where English fans expressed their love of the game by booing their own players. A year when so called legal highs were outlawed, a London bike hire scheme begin, and George & Lynne stopped appearing in The Sun. It was the year that The Bill ended its run, a year that wanted to be over so quickly that 2011 coins were already in circulation by December. As I write, the Arctic freeze gripping the country looks set to continue until at least the middle of January. The future seems to hold huge redundancies, further unrest, an unstable economy and a royal wedding. This last may give those still in employment an extra day‘s holiday. Happy New Year!
© James McGalliard 2010
Inpress: Published on page 53
Drum: Published on page 51
First published Inpress (Issue # 1055), Melbourne on 29 December 2010, and in a shortened version in Drum Media (Issue # 1041), Sydney on 28 December 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
2010 was a year was marked by enforced inactivity, from environmental factors stopping travel to musicians actively not playing to raise money for charity. There was an election without a winner, and the country seemed to be the loser. A year that began with slacktivism ended with riots on the streets and the threat of water cannons to control them. A temporary immigration cap was ruled as unlawful, and the spectre of swine flu appeared, was forgotten about and then returned with the Yuletide snows. The island nature of Britain was emphasised again and again, as it was isolated by weather conditions and volcanic eruptions. In the weeks of silent skies brought on by the Icelandic volcano, it seemed British sea power was the only way to get off this island, or get back to it. The flotilla of boats crossing the channel were portrayed as embodying the Dunkirk spirit, but the panic as crammed ferries departed leaving some stranded in France seemed more like the last days of Saigon.
Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg seemed to offer a third way, and won many student votes with promises not to introduce tuition fees for tertiary students. When these (and other) election promises evaporated at the first important vote, there was justifiable anger leading to a series of demonstrations and near riots in cities across the country. Austerity was the catchphrase, and the pre-election word hope was quickly replaced by despair. The recession continued, and Royal Mail was offered up for privatisation. The only bright spot seemed to be BBC 6Music being spared the axe.
The National reached a greater audience with High Violet, but are still waiting for that R.E.M. style breakthrough. Although their London shows were blighted with poor sound, Archie Bronson Outfit’s Coconut was a remarkable curveball, in many ways achieving what Grinderman’s latest failed to do. Exit Calm’s self-titled debut captured the power of their live shows, while Stephen Jones revived BabyBird and on Ex Maniac created some of the pithiest pop in years. Peter Gabriel’s covers album may have been uninspiring, but his live orchestral show in the cavernous O2 was a one of the live performances of the year for me, along with shows from Julian Cope at Brighton’s Komedia, and Get Well Soon at the Borderline. Although larger venues thrived, some great smaller venues (such as The Luminaire) were lost.
On television, Misfits won the BAFTA for best drama, and returned with a strong second series, but Vexed showed writer Howard Overman could also get things badly wrong. Crime drama was everywhere, with The Silence continuing the trend of strip programming across consecutive weeknights. Luther allowed Idris Elba a British starring vehicle after The Wire, while Thorne showed Sky could produce drama and Sherlock was over too soon. The BBC also continued their run of excellent biopics, but their strongest contributions seemed to be documentaries - from Matt Frei’s excellent Berlin, through BBC Four‘s Maps season, to Michael Cockerell’s fascinating The Great Offices of State. But best of all was Wonders of the Solar System, where former D:Ream keyboard player Professor Brian Cox won huge audiences, by bring physics and astronomy together in a fascinating, involving, understandable yet uncondescending way.
While some of the old favourites, like The IT Crowd and Peep Show, showed definite signs of wear, it was a great year for new comedy on TV. Getting On returned for its first full series, while Rev. and Whites both became definite weekly highlights. Stand-up played a big role, but The Steven K Amos Show felt like a ‘70s timewarp and was barely watchable, while with Lee Nelson’s Well Good Show Simon Brodkin showed how well a live studio audience can be used. Harry Hill’s TV Burp and Charlie Brooker’s Wipe shows also were essential viewing, and I had a soft-spot for Mongrels whose puppets allowed them to get away with jokes living performers never could.
2010 saw the final death throes of New Labour, a government no one voted for seizing power, and the phrase ‘The Troubles in Ireland’ take on new meaning. It was the year that the World Cup bid wasn’t won, but where English fans expressed their love of the game by booing their own players. A year when so called legal highs were outlawed, a London bike hire scheme begin, and George & Lynne stopped appearing in The Sun. It was the year that The Bill ended its run, a year that wanted to be over so quickly that 2011 coins were already in circulation by December. As I write, the Arctic freeze gripping the country looks set to continue until at least the middle of January. The future seems to hold huge redundancies, further unrest, an unstable economy and a royal wedding. This last may give those still in employment an extra day‘s holiday. Happy New Year!
© James McGalliard 2010
Inpress: Published on page 53
Drum: Published on page 51
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Synchronicity
London Fields # 85
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 December 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In these days of the so-called ‘firework career‘, it’s rewarding when good acts manage to survive, even when fame remains elusive and circumstances are difficult. During November I saw album launches from two of the three acts I marked for greatness in my end of year writers poll for 2006 (regrettably Model Morning never got that far). Back then I had a bet with Evi Vine that when her album came, it should be short listed for the Mercury Music Prize that year. But her band fragmented, years passed and when she joined supergroup The Eden House I feared that chances of this ever happening were remote. Meanwhile I Like Trains signed to Beggars Banquet and released a debut album, but then found themselves label-less in the merger of Beggars and 4AD. Four years later in some kind of synchronicity both Evi Vine and I Like Trains have self-funded the recording and release of albums without the use of traditional record companies.
It seems somewhat ironic that the London launch of He Who Saw The Deep, the second album from I Like Trains, is taking place during a strike by Tube drivers. The recording was financed via fan pledges, and this sort of dedication ensures that the gig is well attended in spite of the travel woes. When they take to the narrow stage of The 100 Club it’s immediately clear that something isn’t quite right - their drummer is missing! It transpires that Simon, who I’d seen earlier on the merch stand, has a broken leg, so Scott Hislop from Kyte is filling in. I Like Trains have always been much more than the sum of their parts - a clear example of the chemistry between the players creating something special. Even though Scott does a fine job, the show was noticeably affected by the change of those elements. So while the guitars chime clearly (augmented by Ian Jarrold of the late Redjetson), the bottom end never sounds quite right. If tonight isn’t quite their night, Hope Is Not Enough and lost b-side Victress and still shine, and it seems you may well be able to see this consistently great act for yourself soon as Japanese and Australian dates are pencilled in for 2011.
Rising rents mean that The 100 Club is yet another live venue threatened with closure. Only this week the owners of The Luminaire, without doubt the best live venue in London, announced it is closing in a month due to financial pressures. I last ran into Evi Vine at when I Like Trains played The Luminaire last year (and actually first met her in a queue to see them back in 2006). Eighteen months later her long-promised album is finished, but The Social seems a strange choice for her album launch as it’s more a club space than a live venue. Daunting would be the best description of having to begin a show just after This Mortal Coil’s cover of Song To The Siren has been played, yet Evi turns it into an opportunity by singing along with Liz Fraser’s landmark vocal as a microphone check. When the song ends and the band begin, the background chatter virtually disappears, and I’m quickly reminded of why this voice and these songs floored me four years ago.
Her debut album ...and so the morning comes is a very different beast to the one she might have recorded back in 2007, but some of the songs remain, albeit radically reworked. The original drummer Steven Hill is now on guitars and effects, and it’s wonderful to see all but one of that earlier line-up here in the audience to support her tonight. The live renditions are better than the album, the seeming simplicity and restraint of the stripped-back arrangements make the voice and song all, and sometimes I forget other musicians are on the stage until they chime in. She maps the human heart, sometimes living in the dark places while hoping for the light, at others seeming to finally find a happy place, if only for a fleeting moment. Evi herself is a mixture of fragility and strength; I’m reminded of a Prince Rupert's Drop - glass which can take a hammer blow, but can also shatter explosively. The hauntingly beautiful love song The Colours Of The Night becomes a persistent earworm for days afterwards, the harp here replaced by a picked guitar which actually feels purer. They finish with Time Flies, and the pent-up energy pours out in a dazzling climax - something very special indeed.
Perhaps it was in some way fitting that the release version of Evi’s album wasn’t actually ready on the night. Like the long-promised remasters of My Bloody Valentine, it seems to slip just a little further into the future, tantalisingly out of reach, untouchably desirable. When it does come, I just might keep a closer eye on the Mercury that year.
© James McGalliard 2010
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 December 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In these days of the so-called ‘firework career‘, it’s rewarding when good acts manage to survive, even when fame remains elusive and circumstances are difficult. During November I saw album launches from two of the three acts I marked for greatness in my end of year writers poll for 2006 (regrettably Model Morning never got that far). Back then I had a bet with Evi Vine that when her album came, it should be short listed for the Mercury Music Prize that year. But her band fragmented, years passed and when she joined supergroup The Eden House I feared that chances of this ever happening were remote. Meanwhile I Like Trains signed to Beggars Banquet and released a debut album, but then found themselves label-less in the merger of Beggars and 4AD. Four years later in some kind of synchronicity both Evi Vine and I Like Trains have self-funded the recording and release of albums without the use of traditional record companies.
It seems somewhat ironic that the London launch of He Who Saw The Deep, the second album from I Like Trains, is taking place during a strike by Tube drivers. The recording was financed via fan pledges, and this sort of dedication ensures that the gig is well attended in spite of the travel woes. When they take to the narrow stage of The 100 Club it’s immediately clear that something isn’t quite right - their drummer is missing! It transpires that Simon, who I’d seen earlier on the merch stand, has a broken leg, so Scott Hislop from Kyte is filling in. I Like Trains have always been much more than the sum of their parts - a clear example of the chemistry between the players creating something special. Even though Scott does a fine job, the show was noticeably affected by the change of those elements. So while the guitars chime clearly (augmented by Ian Jarrold of the late Redjetson), the bottom end never sounds quite right. If tonight isn’t quite their night, Hope Is Not Enough and lost b-side Victress and still shine, and it seems you may well be able to see this consistently great act for yourself soon as Japanese and Australian dates are pencilled in for 2011.
Rising rents mean that The 100 Club is yet another live venue threatened with closure. Only this week the owners of The Luminaire, without doubt the best live venue in London, announced it is closing in a month due to financial pressures. I last ran into Evi Vine at when I Like Trains played The Luminaire last year (and actually first met her in a queue to see them back in 2006). Eighteen months later her long-promised album is finished, but The Social seems a strange choice for her album launch as it’s more a club space than a live venue. Daunting would be the best description of having to begin a show just after This Mortal Coil’s cover of Song To The Siren has been played, yet Evi turns it into an opportunity by singing along with Liz Fraser’s landmark vocal as a microphone check. When the song ends and the band begin, the background chatter virtually disappears, and I’m quickly reminded of why this voice and these songs floored me four years ago.
Her debut album ...and so the morning comes is a very different beast to the one she might have recorded back in 2007, but some of the songs remain, albeit radically reworked. The original drummer Steven Hill is now on guitars and effects, and it’s wonderful to see all but one of that earlier line-up here in the audience to support her tonight. The live renditions are better than the album, the seeming simplicity and restraint of the stripped-back arrangements make the voice and song all, and sometimes I forget other musicians are on the stage until they chime in. She maps the human heart, sometimes living in the dark places while hoping for the light, at others seeming to finally find a happy place, if only for a fleeting moment. Evi herself is a mixture of fragility and strength; I’m reminded of a Prince Rupert's Drop - glass which can take a hammer blow, but can also shatter explosively. The hauntingly beautiful love song The Colours Of The Night becomes a persistent earworm for days afterwards, the harp here replaced by a picked guitar which actually feels purer. They finish with Time Flies, and the pent-up energy pours out in a dazzling climax - something very special indeed.
Perhaps it was in some way fitting that the release version of Evi’s album wasn’t actually ready on the night. Like the long-promised remasters of My Bloody Valentine, it seems to slip just a little further into the future, tantalisingly out of reach, untouchably desirable. When it does come, I just might keep a closer eye on the Mercury that year.
© James McGalliard 2010
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Radio Silence
London Fields # 84
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 3 November 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
It could be argued that in most music, there is no silence (excepting pop songs with false endings). But like the holes of a Henry Moore sculpture, the absence of something can be as important as its presence, and it is the sale of that absence that has made news in the latest bizarre story relating to the British pop charts. UK Christmas number one singles often fall into simple categories – it used to be the novelty song or the seasonal song, but in the last few years a new category of the reality TV show winner has been added. This modern paradigm was subverted last year when, through the actions of a Facebook group, Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine became an unusual Yuletide chart topper, keeping The X-Factor winner from the top slot, and annoying Simon Cowell in the process. In an attempt to make such acts of defiance against The Man a new tradition, this year there are moves to keep talent show hopefuls at bay by promoting the idea of getting John Cage’s 1952 composition 4’33” to number one slot in 2010, once again through an orchestrated Facebook campaign.
Although sometimes derided as pretentious, Cage’s composition (which had an early working title of Silent Prayer) isn’t really 4’33” of silence, but rather 277 seconds of deliberately not making noise. It was a deliberate response to the rise of Muzak at the time of its composition, and was written in three movements (purportedly of 30″, 2′23″ and 1′40″ duration). In live performance, the inclusion of ambient sounds, be they shuffling audience members, or your own breathing or the sound of blood circulating around the body, are key to the experience. Cage Against The Machine (as it’s come to be known) currently has 45,000 followers on Facebook, and things were looking very promising - until a rival silent record was announced. The Royal British Legion hopes to raise funds for veterans of conflicts by releasing Two Minute Silence via iTunes next Sunday.
In the UK, the Armistice silence is still marked at eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, but the major ceremonies take place on the Cenotaph on Whitehall on Remembrance Sunday which is commemorated on the second Sunday each November. Here the beginning of the silent observance is marked by a cannon fired in Horse Guards and its end by the playing of the Last Post, followed by the laying of wreathes by The Queen and leaders of the main UK political parties. The video to accompany Two Minute Silence mirrors this, showing a parade of known faces, from David Tennant to David Cameron, via Thom Yorke staring solemnly (or perhaps balefully) into the camera. They hope it will help them to meet the £36m target they’ve set for this year’s appeal, and reach #1 on Remembrance Sunday.
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 3 November 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
It could be argued that in most music, there is no silence (excepting pop songs with false endings). But like the holes of a Henry Moore sculpture, the absence of something can be as important as its presence, and it is the sale of that absence that has made news in the latest bizarre story relating to the British pop charts. UK Christmas number one singles often fall into simple categories – it used to be the novelty song or the seasonal song, but in the last few years a new category of the reality TV show winner has been added. This modern paradigm was subverted last year when, through the actions of a Facebook group, Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine became an unusual Yuletide chart topper, keeping The X-Factor winner from the top slot, and annoying Simon Cowell in the process. In an attempt to make such acts of defiance against The Man a new tradition, this year there are moves to keep talent show hopefuls at bay by promoting the idea of getting John Cage’s 1952 composition 4’33” to number one slot in 2010, once again through an orchestrated Facebook campaign.
Although sometimes derided as pretentious, Cage’s composition (which had an early working title of Silent Prayer) isn’t really 4’33” of silence, but rather 277 seconds of deliberately not making noise. It was a deliberate response to the rise of Muzak at the time of its composition, and was written in three movements (purportedly of 30″, 2′23″ and 1′40″ duration). In live performance, the inclusion of ambient sounds, be they shuffling audience members, or your own breathing or the sound of blood circulating around the body, are key to the experience. Cage Against The Machine (as it’s come to be known) currently has 45,000 followers on Facebook, and things were looking very promising - until a rival silent record was announced. The Royal British Legion hopes to raise funds for veterans of conflicts by releasing Two Minute Silence via iTunes next Sunday.
In the UK, the Armistice silence is still marked at eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, but the major ceremonies take place on the Cenotaph on Whitehall on Remembrance Sunday which is commemorated on the second Sunday each November. Here the beginning of the silent observance is marked by a cannon fired in Horse Guards and its end by the playing of the Last Post, followed by the laying of wreathes by The Queen and leaders of the main UK political parties. The video to accompany Two Minute Silence mirrors this, showing a parade of known faces, from David Tennant to David Cameron, via Thom Yorke staring solemnly (or perhaps balefully) into the camera. They hope it will help them to meet the £36m target they’ve set for this year’s appeal, and reach #1 on Remembrance Sunday.
The Royal British Legion is undoubtedly a good cause, but will the mp3 buying public play this game twice in two months, even if it is for charity? In a strange homage to The X Factor, the ‘winning’ charity for proceeds from Cage Against The Machine will be selected by a public vote. As far as videos go, I preferred The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre’s tribute to the 4’33” campaign (which you can find on YouTube). If CATM does succeed, will it get any airplay? Radio stations have an automatic emergency cut-in if more than a prescribed amount of ‘dead air’ occurs. A live broadcast of a performance of the composition by the BBC Symphony Orchestra on BBC Radio 3 a few years back required special measures to be taken to prevent the stand-by system cutting in.
But as far as Christmas goes, it now seems there a new contender in the ring. Another Facebook group set up to challenge The X-Factor’s chart dominance is snowballing. This one is attempting to get Surfin’ Bird, a 1963 single by The Trashmen (as featured in an episode of Family Guy) to the coveted Christmas #1. The group has already amassed around 11,000 members at the time of writing and the support of BBC Radio 1 afternoon DJ Scott Mills. But, as with all such movements, the question as to whether any group members will actually buy the song is question it is another matter altogether. I can think of some records that would be better if silent – anything by the Kings Of Leon would be a good start. But personally, I hope both silent records manage to top the charts. Silence to remember the dead is profound - as Hamlet’s last words chillingly declare “The rest is silence”. But as far a Christmas goes, what could be more appropriate than a piece of music that is truly Silent Night?
© James McGalliard 2010
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
Last Orders
London Fields # 83
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 6 October 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 6 October 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
One of the most famous pubs in London, if not the whole of the UK, was gutted by fire the other week. Thankfully no-one was killed, but as this East End local is a household name, the story attracted substantial media coverage. Actually The Queen Vic is not a real pub at all, but the social hub of long-running BBC soap EastEnders. For writers, pubs are an easy reason to get very diverse groups of people together, and when alcohol is imbibed, tongues are loosened and emotions can run high. The Queen Vic fire was a convenient storyline to allow the BBC to replace the old sets with ones suitable for high definition filming (as well as a way to write out some characters).
Yet EastEnders is far removed from life; the fictional properties these impoverished souls inhabit would be worth near enough to a million quid in the real world, so most likely they’d have sold up and moved to a larger digs in Chingford or Essex, pocketing a nice bit of change in the process. While in EastEnders the pub will rise like a phoenix from the ashes, and re-open in refurbished HD glory (whilst allowing new characters to run it), in the real world it would most likely be converted into a set of expensive flats, as has happened to many pubs near the real-life inspiration of the show’s Albert Square. A Clapton local which was run by two brothers (whom I’m sure were the inspiration for the show’s Mitchell Brothers) has been standing empty for some years. For while we’re being assailed by horror stories of Booze Britain and the terrible cost to health alcohol causes, the truth is that this vital part of British culture seems to be dying a slow death itself.
Yet EastEnders is far removed from life; the fictional properties these impoverished souls inhabit would be worth near enough to a million quid in the real world, so most likely they’d have sold up and moved to a larger digs in Chingford or Essex, pocketing a nice bit of change in the process. While in EastEnders the pub will rise like a phoenix from the ashes, and re-open in refurbished HD glory (whilst allowing new characters to run it), in the real world it would most likely be converted into a set of expensive flats, as has happened to many pubs near the real-life inspiration of the show’s Albert Square. A Clapton local which was run by two brothers (whom I’m sure were the inspiration for the show’s Mitchell Brothers) has been standing empty for some years. For while we’re being assailed by horror stories of Booze Britain and the terrible cost to health alcohol causes, the truth is that this vital part of British culture seems to be dying a slow death itself.
Once I would give directions to people based on the pubs they’d pass on the way (left at the Dog & Duck and down the lane beside The Crooked Billet), but so many have vanished that this is becoming increasingly impossible. Many London bus routes have stops named after the pubs found there, but these are disappearing as well. The 76 still terminates at the same place, but the bus destination no longer reads Tottenham Swan as this infamous late-night institution is currently being converted into units. The 55 may end its journey at Bakers Arms (Leyton), but the pub itself recently became a betting shop. And while (The) Nag’s Head (Holloway) is still there, it has been painted black inside and renamed The Gaff - and become the London home of the stoner rock movement.
These thoughts were precipitated when a friend contacted me to say a November visit was on the cards and that I must take her to a good old English pub. This could be a problem; most pubs in the centre are atrocious, and one of my favourites (and the only real ‘pub’ left in Shoreditch) Owl & Pussycat has recently been gutted. The Stag’s Head (another favourite nearby) has been forced to close as their rent became too high to be viable. After some thought, the best one I could think of was in Reading, a commuter belt town in Berkshire some 40 miles west of London, and not really handy for a shifty half. It’s not just my local favourites that are calling final time - The British Beer and Pub Association (BBPA) has reported that up to five pubs close permanently each day, which is up to a third more than last year’s already disturbingly high figures. Outside London, it may be even worse; the definition of a village is pub, post office and church, and in the BBPA reported 893 village pubs have closed in the past year. Meanwhile, the remaining pubs have seen the sharpest year-on-year decline in alcohol consumption since 1948, a significant 13% less than in 2004.
Obviously there are numerous factors that have led to the current state of things. The smoking ban had an impact (although for many it made pubs accessible again), while the recession has made cheap supermarket booze an appealing alternative an expensive night out, and changes to London’s cultural make-up mean there are now more communities in which alcohol plays no part at all. Small independent pubs must find it hard to compete with larger chains in a market where low prices are ever more important. Now there’s talk of the new government making changes to the 2003 Licensing Act. Although it failed in its aims of a bringing European café society to the UK, it did bring sensible drinking laws to the UK, meaning you could finally get a beer after 11pm without being a member of a secret society. With further austerity measures still to come, the future of this great institution is not looking good. So the next time someone asks "What ya havin’?" I’ll be hoping it’s a pub to drink it in.
These thoughts were precipitated when a friend contacted me to say a November visit was on the cards and that I must take her to a good old English pub. This could be a problem; most pubs in the centre are atrocious, and one of my favourites (and the only real ‘pub’ left in Shoreditch) Owl & Pussycat has recently been gutted. The Stag’s Head (another favourite nearby) has been forced to close as their rent became too high to be viable. After some thought, the best one I could think of was in Reading, a commuter belt town in Berkshire some 40 miles west of London, and not really handy for a shifty half. It’s not just my local favourites that are calling final time - The British Beer and Pub Association (BBPA) has reported that up to five pubs close permanently each day, which is up to a third more than last year’s already disturbingly high figures. Outside London, it may be even worse; the definition of a village is pub, post office and church, and in the BBPA reported 893 village pubs have closed in the past year. Meanwhile, the remaining pubs have seen the sharpest year-on-year decline in alcohol consumption since 1948, a significant 13% less than in 2004.
Obviously there are numerous factors that have led to the current state of things. The smoking ban had an impact (although for many it made pubs accessible again), while the recession has made cheap supermarket booze an appealing alternative an expensive night out, and changes to London’s cultural make-up mean there are now more communities in which alcohol plays no part at all. Small independent pubs must find it hard to compete with larger chains in a market where low prices are ever more important. Now there’s talk of the new government making changes to the 2003 Licensing Act. Although it failed in its aims of a bringing European café society to the UK, it did bring sensible drinking laws to the UK, meaning you could finally get a beer after 11pm without being a member of a secret society. With further austerity measures still to come, the future of this great institution is not looking good. So the next time someone asks "What ya havin’?" I’ll be hoping it’s a pub to drink it in.
© James McGalliard 2010
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
A Plug-In Called Nostalgia
London Fields # 82
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 8 September 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
One of the recurring conversation topics that seems to come up whenever we discuss music down the pub regards which bands we’d wished we had seen, but never did, and who we‘d like to reform. While there are various particular shows I regret missing, for me there’s really only one act in this category now - and that’s Joy Division. Lacking a time machine, this had led me down all sorts of strange paths. When they were filming the Ian Curtis biopic Control in Nottingham, I applied to be an extra for the gig scenes. The Gillian-free line-up of New Order reintroduced Joy Division as a regular part of their sets, and twice I saw them perform sets as Joy Division; firstly for John Peel, and then in Manchester for Andy Rourke’s inaugural Verses Cancer charity bash. Yet the closest I’ve felt to recapturing something gone forever came when Section 25, who had an early record produced by the Joy Division singer, included a blinding rendition of No Love Lost in their set.
Now Joy Division’s bass player Peter Hook has combined the current fad for playing albums in their entirety with nostalgia for what has passed. To commemorate the thirty years since singer Ian Curtis’s death, he’s formed a touring band to play Joy Division’s brilliant debut album Unknown Pleasures live in its entirety - and they arrive in Australia later this month. One of the things I admired when I saw his new band Freebass was the lack of reliance on any material from their former famous bands. While Barney and Stephen Morris still feature Joy Division songs in the encores of Bad Lieutenant shows, but this is a new thing altogether. Peter Hook & The Light do get some things right; a real drum kit gives a much more authentic sound than an electronic one, and the guitarist retains the simplicity of the original playing. Hooky is the only member of the band to have played on the original recording, and the live show could be called Twobass as Hooky’s son plays many of the basslines, leaving the original bassist to concentrate on singing. This isn’t a slavish recreation of the original though. As a front man Hook does overplay the raised fist, but perhaps the most controversial decision is the inclusion of former Happy Mondays vocalist Rowetta to sing some of the songs. While I didn’t mind her take on Insight, some of the lyrics on that album are born of a very male despair, something at odds with the image of her busting out of a denim mini-dress and boots.
Yet should one expect something that was created in a studio to be played at home to work as a live performance? This is the flaw of the concept, no matter which band attempts it. The versions they play fall between the sheen of Martin Hannett’s production, and the rougher versions they played as a live act. Yet Joy Division only played Candidate live on three occasions, so by the time Hooky reaches Australia he’ll have sung this song live more times than Ian Curtis ever did. Yet if the original act rarely included it (or I Remember Nothing) in live sets, should that be telling us something? While it was magical for me to hear these songs live just once, regardless of context or history, it seemed a great many people around me only really want to hear the singles. Thus the finale of Love Will Tear Us Apart sees the place erupt as the Vikings lead the way in a singalong which turns that melody into a football terrace anthem.
We seem surrounded by recreations of the recent past or shallow imitations of them. Hurts seem to have stolen their image wholesale from the artwork of No Sense Of Sin by The Lotus Eaters. While the newcomers are drenched in press coverage, there was virtually none when the two core members of The Lotus Eaters took their emotionally open songs on the road in stripped bare acoustic arrangements - just two guitars and vocals. While it lacked the power of the full band show the previous year, some songs held on remarkable well, and it was very sad to see such a poor turn out. This need to go and revisit the past seems to be becoming more and more prevalent. It’s like trying to create a perfect memory, or to find something lost, or even to pretend to be part of something that you never were. Maybe it’s time to say - enough! The Joy Division song that always meant the most to me was the desperate cry of New Dawn Fades. Yet, as sung by Rowetta, these words written by Ian Curtis seem to take on a whole new meaning: “Me, seeing me this time, hoping for something else”.
© James McGalliard 2010
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 8 September 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
One of the recurring conversation topics that seems to come up whenever we discuss music down the pub regards which bands we’d wished we had seen, but never did, and who we‘d like to reform. While there are various particular shows I regret missing, for me there’s really only one act in this category now - and that’s Joy Division. Lacking a time machine, this had led me down all sorts of strange paths. When they were filming the Ian Curtis biopic Control in Nottingham, I applied to be an extra for the gig scenes. The Gillian-free line-up of New Order reintroduced Joy Division as a regular part of their sets, and twice I saw them perform sets as Joy Division; firstly for John Peel, and then in Manchester for Andy Rourke’s inaugural Verses Cancer charity bash. Yet the closest I’ve felt to recapturing something gone forever came when Section 25, who had an early record produced by the Joy Division singer, included a blinding rendition of No Love Lost in their set.
Now Joy Division’s bass player Peter Hook has combined the current fad for playing albums in their entirety with nostalgia for what has passed. To commemorate the thirty years since singer Ian Curtis’s death, he’s formed a touring band to play Joy Division’s brilliant debut album Unknown Pleasures live in its entirety - and they arrive in Australia later this month. One of the things I admired when I saw his new band Freebass was the lack of reliance on any material from their former famous bands. While Barney and Stephen Morris still feature Joy Division songs in the encores of Bad Lieutenant shows, but this is a new thing altogether. Peter Hook & The Light do get some things right; a real drum kit gives a much more authentic sound than an electronic one, and the guitarist retains the simplicity of the original playing. Hooky is the only member of the band to have played on the original recording, and the live show could be called Twobass as Hooky’s son plays many of the basslines, leaving the original bassist to concentrate on singing. This isn’t a slavish recreation of the original though. As a front man Hook does overplay the raised fist, but perhaps the most controversial decision is the inclusion of former Happy Mondays vocalist Rowetta to sing some of the songs. While I didn’t mind her take on Insight, some of the lyrics on that album are born of a very male despair, something at odds with the image of her busting out of a denim mini-dress and boots.
Yet should one expect something that was created in a studio to be played at home to work as a live performance? This is the flaw of the concept, no matter which band attempts it. The versions they play fall between the sheen of Martin Hannett’s production, and the rougher versions they played as a live act. Yet Joy Division only played Candidate live on three occasions, so by the time Hooky reaches Australia he’ll have sung this song live more times than Ian Curtis ever did. Yet if the original act rarely included it (or I Remember Nothing) in live sets, should that be telling us something? While it was magical for me to hear these songs live just once, regardless of context or history, it seemed a great many people around me only really want to hear the singles. Thus the finale of Love Will Tear Us Apart sees the place erupt as the Vikings lead the way in a singalong which turns that melody into a football terrace anthem.
We seem surrounded by recreations of the recent past or shallow imitations of them. Hurts seem to have stolen their image wholesale from the artwork of No Sense Of Sin by The Lotus Eaters. While the newcomers are drenched in press coverage, there was virtually none when the two core members of The Lotus Eaters took their emotionally open songs on the road in stripped bare acoustic arrangements - just two guitars and vocals. While it lacked the power of the full band show the previous year, some songs held on remarkable well, and it was very sad to see such a poor turn out. This need to go and revisit the past seems to be becoming more and more prevalent. It’s like trying to create a perfect memory, or to find something lost, or even to pretend to be part of something that you never were. Maybe it’s time to say - enough! The Joy Division song that always meant the most to me was the desperate cry of New Dawn Fades. Yet, as sung by Rowetta, these words written by Ian Curtis seem to take on a whole new meaning: “Me, seeing me this time, hoping for something else”.
© James McGalliard 2010
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
Life In A Day
London Fields # 81
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 11 August 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The English midsummer marks the height of the festival season - each weekend events jostle for attention and audience. Yet over the past few years there’s been a new type of event gaining popularity - that of the day festival. Usually at this time of year you’d find me at the Truck Festival at Hill Farm, Steventon in Oxfordshire. 2010 marked its 13th year, and it’s hard to think of a better combination of music, atmosphere and good vibes as this event continues to offer. But circumstances made it impossible for me to get there this year, so as compensation I decided to check out some of these newer day events. While these give you a festival experience without stepping out too far from home or having to camp, the trouble with holding them in urban parks is the enforced sound restrictions If it’s loud enough for the punters inside the fences, it’s probably a nightmare of shuddering windows for nearby residents. Yet when you use more high-tech directional PAs, it does really restrict the area in which paying audience can experience good quality sound.
The first thing that greets me as I arrive at the dusty expanses of a very dry Shoreditch Park in Hackney is an enormous queue. This it turns out if for VIPs and those on the free list . As I’ve bought my ticket for the third Shoreditch 1234 Festival it turns out I can walk straight in - well almost. The security searches are vigorous, and apparently they’re under strict instructions not to allow any food or water entering the arena. In front of me a woman gets into an argument with them as they take exception to a small box of nuts in her handbag. Her friend diffuses a rapidly escalating situation by taking them herself and tipping them into the bin. Nearby someone says they have special food with them due to a gluten intolerance - they’re told they have to eat it now or toss it. God help a diabetic carrying an emergency Mars bar. Inside are three tent stages, and one main outdoor one. Some of the acts I catch during the day include S.C.U.M, Dum Dum Girls, Vivian Girls, Rolo Tomassi, and Bobby Gillespie’s new covers supergroup The Silver Machine. Later I wait fruitlessly for These New Puritans to fix a catastrophic equipment failure which sees everything seize after a single song; it is in vain. But the real reason I’m here is to catch the only London performance of Peter Hook’s take on Unknown Pleasures. On the whole it’s better than you’d think it might be, although Hooky’s air punching gets a bit tiresome, and it is weird that his son who plays the iconic bassline to She’s Lost Control.
You’d be hard pushed to find a more corporately branded event than Ben & Jerry’s Sundae On The Common, yet the way it is done doesn‘t make it feel too much of an imposition. Like the end of an episode of Sesame Street, it‘s continually drummed in that today was bought to you by Fair Trade and a multinational company which loves the planet. This is the sixth year of Sundae and my third visit and while ticket prices may have nearly doubled in the last two years, at around £17 they’re still very reasonably priced. You couldn’t get an atmosphere less like the 1234 Festival After yesterday’s experience I have nothing with me; of course today anything is allowed other than drugs, glass and alcohol. It’s is genuinely a family-friendly event, and early in the day the bands tend to be seen as a mild distraction - the real attraction is the free ice cream.
Although officially opening the day, Barnsley’s Exit Calm are my main draw card and they play a headline-worthy set. Rob Marshall’s anthemic guitar lines are loud and clear whilst singer Nicky Smith paces up and down like a caged tiger, seemingly ready to explode into violence at any moment. Simon Lindley’s fluid bass and Scott Pemberton’s tight stick work complete the sound and it’s really damn impressive. When an act can hold a stage with such well-informed self-belief, it won’t be long before they’re topping the bill at events larger than this. Later in the day Frightened Rabbit explain that even though this is a family event if they only chose numbers with G-rated lyrics they’d be down to a two song set. So it’s business as usual - thankfully. Billy Bragg doesn’t have his hands down the front of his trousers but his undies on the outside of his jeans - for Pants For Poverty. His set includes a sublime rendition of Must I Paint You A Picture? as its subject used to live on the other side of the Common. doves close the day, and this is their penultimate set before going on a long hiatus. It all feels a little tired, and only on Kingdom Of Rust do I see again the band I used to love so much.
© James McGalliard 2010
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 11 August 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The English midsummer marks the height of the festival season - each weekend events jostle for attention and audience. Yet over the past few years there’s been a new type of event gaining popularity - that of the day festival. Usually at this time of year you’d find me at the Truck Festival at Hill Farm, Steventon in Oxfordshire. 2010 marked its 13th year, and it’s hard to think of a better combination of music, atmosphere and good vibes as this event continues to offer. But circumstances made it impossible for me to get there this year, so as compensation I decided to check out some of these newer day events. While these give you a festival experience without stepping out too far from home or having to camp, the trouble with holding them in urban parks is the enforced sound restrictions If it’s loud enough for the punters inside the fences, it’s probably a nightmare of shuddering windows for nearby residents. Yet when you use more high-tech directional PAs, it does really restrict the area in which paying audience can experience good quality sound.
The first thing that greets me as I arrive at the dusty expanses of a very dry Shoreditch Park in Hackney is an enormous queue. This it turns out if for VIPs and those on the free list . As I’ve bought my ticket for the third Shoreditch 1234 Festival it turns out I can walk straight in - well almost. The security searches are vigorous, and apparently they’re under strict instructions not to allow any food or water entering the arena. In front of me a woman gets into an argument with them as they take exception to a small box of nuts in her handbag. Her friend diffuses a rapidly escalating situation by taking them herself and tipping them into the bin. Nearby someone says they have special food with them due to a gluten intolerance - they’re told they have to eat it now or toss it. God help a diabetic carrying an emergency Mars bar. Inside are three tent stages, and one main outdoor one. Some of the acts I catch during the day include S.C.U.M, Dum Dum Girls, Vivian Girls, Rolo Tomassi, and Bobby Gillespie’s new covers supergroup The Silver Machine. Later I wait fruitlessly for These New Puritans to fix a catastrophic equipment failure which sees everything seize after a single song; it is in vain. But the real reason I’m here is to catch the only London performance of Peter Hook’s take on Unknown Pleasures. On the whole it’s better than you’d think it might be, although Hooky’s air punching gets a bit tiresome, and it is weird that his son who plays the iconic bassline to She’s Lost Control.
You’d be hard pushed to find a more corporately branded event than Ben & Jerry’s Sundae On The Common, yet the way it is done doesn‘t make it feel too much of an imposition. Like the end of an episode of Sesame Street, it‘s continually drummed in that today was bought to you by Fair Trade and a multinational company which loves the planet. This is the sixth year of Sundae and my third visit and while ticket prices may have nearly doubled in the last two years, at around £17 they’re still very reasonably priced. You couldn’t get an atmosphere less like the 1234 Festival After yesterday’s experience I have nothing with me; of course today anything is allowed other than drugs, glass and alcohol. It’s is genuinely a family-friendly event, and early in the day the bands tend to be seen as a mild distraction - the real attraction is the free ice cream.
Although officially opening the day, Barnsley’s Exit Calm are my main draw card and they play a headline-worthy set. Rob Marshall’s anthemic guitar lines are loud and clear whilst singer Nicky Smith paces up and down like a caged tiger, seemingly ready to explode into violence at any moment. Simon Lindley’s fluid bass and Scott Pemberton’s tight stick work complete the sound and it’s really damn impressive. When an act can hold a stage with such well-informed self-belief, it won’t be long before they’re topping the bill at events larger than this. Later in the day Frightened Rabbit explain that even though this is a family event if they only chose numbers with G-rated lyrics they’d be down to a two song set. So it’s business as usual - thankfully. Billy Bragg doesn’t have his hands down the front of his trousers but his undies on the outside of his jeans - for Pants For Poverty. His set includes a sublime rendition of Must I Paint You A Picture? as its subject used to live on the other side of the Common. doves close the day, and this is their penultimate set before going on a long hiatus. It all feels a little tired, and only on Kingdom Of Rust do I see again the band I used to love so much.
© James McGalliard 2010
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
In This Moment
London Fields # 80
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 July 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
As much as migrating birds have their annual cycles, so do comedians - mainly based around the annual pilgrimage to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival each August. As that month now looms into view, comics up and down the land are immersing themselves in the ritual dance of writing, panicking and trying out new material that will (hopefully) sustain them for the three weeks of festival and most of the nine months following, before the whole cycle begins again in earnest. On seemingly every night now there’s many an act doing open rehearsals or warm-up performances. These can vary from late starters whose sets are primarily last year’s show with perhaps an additional ten minutes of new material awkwardly inserted, to those that have entirely new shows although these may fall quite short (in either length or quality) at the moment.
Daniel Kitson fell into the latter of these categories (length not quality) when I caught a very early run through of his 2010 theatre show It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later last week. Run was really an appropriate word here, as it is a work in progress, and the cohesive part of what he’s written to date takes him about 17 minutes to read, although he did tackle sections of it with breathless speed. Like last year’s wonderful The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church, it’s a story piece and is also going to premiere at the Traverse Theatre. Via a series of interrelated vignettes it illustrates the unrelated lives of William Rivington and Caroline Carpenter; their stories will eventually intersect, but only the once. Even at this early stage, it has moments of great depth and emotion, and it’s hard not be in in awe of some of Kitson’s turns of phrase. While these make me wish he’d go and write a novel, that perhaps would deprive us of the chance to hear the way he weaves these diverse threads into a greater whole. Whereas Gregory Church (which he later tells me he will be touring in Australia next year) showed that events that seem minor at the time may go on to have greater significance, the new piece is a step forward wherein Kitson is purely a narrator, and the breadth is to depict two entire lives. At the moment it’s really just an outline, yet like its predecessor it’s clear that capturing even the simplest of moments can be the sometimes be an important part of a genuinely lived life.
The following day I head down to Brighton to see The National, as it’s my only chance to see them in a reasonably-sized venue this year. Checking the stage times for the evening, I run in ¾ of The Veils outside the venue, who have also ventured seawards for the gig. Soph gives me a huge hug, and Finn tells me that he’s been busy writing and that they’re heading into the studios this week to record an EP of new material. Eschewing the support act, I take advantage of the beautiful evening and savour a quiet moment, sitting in a beachside bar slowly sipping an ice cold pint as I watch the sea while the world passes by. For years I’ve loved The National on record but for me they have always seemed to somehow fall short as live performers. The musicianship is there, as are the songs, but it always has felt as though something was missing. Yet tonight, with an extended line-up of two horn players, and the ever-present (and irreplaceable) Padma Newsome on keyboards and strings, they come close to bridging that gap. It’s wonderful to see the recognition they now have; what were once mere lyrics becoming crowd anthems, while frontman Matt Berninger seems to have peeled away his restraint, actually hurling himself into the crowd at one point. Tonight’s highlights are the slower numbers, the best being a sublime version of England, the accompanying horns just perfectly undercutting the song’s triumphant swell.
Afterwards, when the journey homewards takes more than three hours, the train delayed by a suicide on the line, I again think of Kitson’s idea of the importance of moments. These could be as simple as the touch of another person or the wonder that is that repeated lyric from Slow Show. After all, it is in fleeting moments that all life resides.
© James McGalliard 2010
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 July 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
As much as migrating birds have their annual cycles, so do comedians - mainly based around the annual pilgrimage to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival each August. As that month now looms into view, comics up and down the land are immersing themselves in the ritual dance of writing, panicking and trying out new material that will (hopefully) sustain them for the three weeks of festival and most of the nine months following, before the whole cycle begins again in earnest. On seemingly every night now there’s many an act doing open rehearsals or warm-up performances. These can vary from late starters whose sets are primarily last year’s show with perhaps an additional ten minutes of new material awkwardly inserted, to those that have entirely new shows although these may fall quite short (in either length or quality) at the moment.
Daniel Kitson fell into the latter of these categories (length not quality) when I caught a very early run through of his 2010 theatre show It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later last week. Run was really an appropriate word here, as it is a work in progress, and the cohesive part of what he’s written to date takes him about 17 minutes to read, although he did tackle sections of it with breathless speed. Like last year’s wonderful The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church, it’s a story piece and is also going to premiere at the Traverse Theatre. Via a series of interrelated vignettes it illustrates the unrelated lives of William Rivington and Caroline Carpenter; their stories will eventually intersect, but only the once. Even at this early stage, it has moments of great depth and emotion, and it’s hard not be in in awe of some of Kitson’s turns of phrase. While these make me wish he’d go and write a novel, that perhaps would deprive us of the chance to hear the way he weaves these diverse threads into a greater whole. Whereas Gregory Church (which he later tells me he will be touring in Australia next year) showed that events that seem minor at the time may go on to have greater significance, the new piece is a step forward wherein Kitson is purely a narrator, and the breadth is to depict two entire lives. At the moment it’s really just an outline, yet like its predecessor it’s clear that capturing even the simplest of moments can be the sometimes be an important part of a genuinely lived life.
The following day I head down to Brighton to see The National, as it’s my only chance to see them in a reasonably-sized venue this year. Checking the stage times for the evening, I run in ¾ of The Veils outside the venue, who have also ventured seawards for the gig. Soph gives me a huge hug, and Finn tells me that he’s been busy writing and that they’re heading into the studios this week to record an EP of new material. Eschewing the support act, I take advantage of the beautiful evening and savour a quiet moment, sitting in a beachside bar slowly sipping an ice cold pint as I watch the sea while the world passes by. For years I’ve loved The National on record but for me they have always seemed to somehow fall short as live performers. The musicianship is there, as are the songs, but it always has felt as though something was missing. Yet tonight, with an extended line-up of two horn players, and the ever-present (and irreplaceable) Padma Newsome on keyboards and strings, they come close to bridging that gap. It’s wonderful to see the recognition they now have; what were once mere lyrics becoming crowd anthems, while frontman Matt Berninger seems to have peeled away his restraint, actually hurling himself into the crowd at one point. Tonight’s highlights are the slower numbers, the best being a sublime version of England, the accompanying horns just perfectly undercutting the song’s triumphant swell.
Afterwards, when the journey homewards takes more than three hours, the train delayed by a suicide on the line, I again think of Kitson’s idea of the importance of moments. These could be as simple as the touch of another person or the wonder that is that repeated lyric from Slow Show. After all, it is in fleeting moments that all life resides.
© James McGalliard 2010
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