Ben was at the Digital Inclusion Conference in London yesterday. It's a big thing in an age where online communities are becoming more and more central in people's lives, and the debates go on as to whether these online relationships - via Facebook, Twitter etc - are any real replacement for physical relationships. Here's a video of him talking to a protester, in a conversation that scratches the surface of the whole issue:
Fascinating stuff, especially to me with my sociology studies. I think this is the sort of thing that the team behind the course I've been doing should consider including when they update it (it came out in 2002, so parts of it are looking very dated now).
Chris
Wednesday 29 April 2009
Monday 27 April 2009
The Other Side of the Weekend
Birmingham this weekend was good - met Ben's boyfriend Mike and they a lovely couple. Also Mike's six guinea pigs (three boys and three girls, carefully segregated to avoid a population explosion). We didn't see Home of the Wriggler in the end as it was sold out, so instead we went bowling. Unbelievably I've managed to get through thirty-one years of existence without once throwing a bowling ball (except on the Wii). Needless to say I was a bit rubbish, although it was amusing seeing my two opponents get ultra-competitive. And thanks to the experience, I now can't get this tune out of my head:
Helpful subtitles so you can sing along, you'll notice;-)
Also went to see this fascinating exhibition of photographs of the Obama administration at one of the main city art galleries:
http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/magazine/2009-inauguration-gallery/index.html
There are some really intriguing photographs - not least that the ones who are in their thirties already look very middle-aged, yet those in their forties or fifties look hardly any older, almost as if one stops ageing after a while in that environment and achieves a state of grace.
And now back to reality, rain and swine flu...
Chris
Helpful subtitles so you can sing along, you'll notice;-)
Also went to see this fascinating exhibition of photographs of the Obama administration at one of the main city art galleries:
http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/magazine/2009-inauguration-gallery/index.html
There are some really intriguing photographs - not least that the ones who are in their thirties already look very middle-aged, yet those in their forties or fifties look hardly any older, almost as if one stops ageing after a while in that environment and achieves a state of grace.
And now back to reality, rain and swine flu...
Chris
Friday 24 April 2009
Friday afternoon
Things are winding up for another week here at work. I'm off to Birmingham tonight to spend the weekend with my mate Ben and his squeeze. We're going to see this tomorrow night:
http://www.stanscafe.co.uk/homeofthewriggler/index.html
I don't see enough theatre. I think it's because it requires a different sort of commitment from watching a film (that and the fact that it's more expensive). Last piece of theatre I went to see was Spectacular by Forced Entertainment. Here's some stuff about it:
http://www.forcedentertainment.com/?lid=1081
They've been going for 25 years. Ben's a big fan and another friend of mine, Sarah Cockburn, is their Marketing Manager, and set up their official Facebook group. Their plays are challenging, provocative and all sorts of other adjectives that hacks like to bandy about regarding anything vaguely more left-field than Andrew Lloyd-Webber - but in this case, those adjectives are well-earned.
We're also going to have a barbecue... if the weather holds. Sod's law dictates that the arrival of the weekend and the merest mention of "barbecue" will be enough to open the heavens after a period of fine weather that one has been unable to enjoy due to being stuck at work. My mum also finds that washing the net curtains and/or cleaning the windows is an excellent domestic alternative to summoning the Rain God/dess. Fortunately there's a Plan B if it does tip it down.
Enjoy your weekends - I won't be able to blog as Ben's boyfriend has a malfunctioning connection to t'internet, but I'll be back on Sunday night.
Chris
PS - I was just about to hit "Publish Post" when we had a campus-wide power cut. And Sod's law also dictated that, at the very moment we were told we could go home, the power came back on;-)
http://www.stanscafe.co.uk/homeofthewriggler/index.html
I don't see enough theatre. I think it's because it requires a different sort of commitment from watching a film (that and the fact that it's more expensive). Last piece of theatre I went to see was Spectacular by Forced Entertainment. Here's some stuff about it:
http://www.forcedentertainment.com/?lid=1081
They've been going for 25 years. Ben's a big fan and another friend of mine, Sarah Cockburn, is their Marketing Manager, and set up their official Facebook group. Their plays are challenging, provocative and all sorts of other adjectives that hacks like to bandy about regarding anything vaguely more left-field than Andrew Lloyd-Webber - but in this case, those adjectives are well-earned.
We're also going to have a barbecue... if the weather holds. Sod's law dictates that the arrival of the weekend and the merest mention of "barbecue" will be enough to open the heavens after a period of fine weather that one has been unable to enjoy due to being stuck at work. My mum also finds that washing the net curtains and/or cleaning the windows is an excellent domestic alternative to summoning the Rain God/dess. Fortunately there's a Plan B if it does tip it down.
Enjoy your weekends - I won't be able to blog as Ben's boyfriend has a malfunctioning connection to t'internet, but I'll be back on Sunday night.
Chris
PS - I was just about to hit "Publish Post" when we had a campus-wide power cut. And Sod's law also dictated that, at the very moment we were told we could go home, the power came back on;-)
Thursday 23 April 2009
That's the badger
I tend to exist in a bit of a time-lag where slang's concerned, hence I've only just cottoned on to this. It essentially means "that's right" or "that's the one". Puts me in mind of Ruth Badger off the Apprentice. Or indeed, of this, which always makes me giggle:
http://www.badgerbadgerbadger.com/
I did think I'd coined a new word the other night, "manimosity", meaning highly acrimonious, horn-locking rivalry between two men, but sadly it already seems to be in existence with a different meaning, so I'll just have to think of something else...
Chris
http://www.badgerbadgerbadger.com/
I did think I'd coined a new word the other night, "manimosity", meaning highly acrimonious, horn-locking rivalry between two men, but sadly it already seems to be in existence with a different meaning, so I'll just have to think of something else...
Chris
Wednesday 22 April 2009
Britain's Got 10 Years Younger
Here's that artist's impression of a made-over Susan Boyle, just so you don't have to dirty yourselves by going on the Daily Star website:
Does anyone else think it makes her look like a man impersonating a cross between Jackie Collins and Sarah Palin?
More pertinently, does anyone else think that, if she'd appeared on our screens and given the exact same performance, only looking like Katherine Jenkins, we'd still have been going on about it two weeks later? It's the gulf between assumption (oh lordy, here comes another tuneless car-crash) and reality (oh okay, she's got a decent singing voice) that's led to over 5 million YouTube hits, gushing tweets from Demi Moore and disturbing tabloid headlines involving the vile porn dwarf and Piers Morgan. As well as this blog post, of course...
Chris
PS - I've just double-checked I remembered that last "and" before I hit "Publish Post".
Does anyone else think it makes her look like a man impersonating a cross between Jackie Collins and Sarah Palin?
More pertinently, does anyone else think that, if she'd appeared on our screens and given the exact same performance, only looking like Katherine Jenkins, we'd still have been going on about it two weeks later? It's the gulf between assumption (oh lordy, here comes another tuneless car-crash) and reality (oh okay, she's got a decent singing voice) that's led to over 5 million YouTube hits, gushing tweets from Demi Moore and disturbing tabloid headlines involving the vile porn dwarf and Piers Morgan. As well as this blog post, of course...
Chris
PS - I've just double-checked I remembered that last "and" before I hit "Publish Post".
Tuesday 21 April 2009
More homophobia
Yeah, I know. I'm starting to feel like Peter Tatchell here, spotting it everywhere, as though it's not just the economy that's going into recession, but people's attitudes. Anyway, this happened a bit earlier today whilst I was sat outside on my lunch break.
Group of students sat along the bench from me on campus, one of them talked about going out in gay clubs, referring to one that was full of “b***y boys”. Her friends tried to shush her. Then later, as she got up, I said: “Excuse me, but next time you consider using “b***y boy” to refer to a gay man, why don’t you try Googling “Jamaica” and “homophobia” first.” To which she responded “Well I’m gay, so what?” I remarked that the fact she was gay made it worse. She shrugged her shoulders (having talked loudly and incessantly for most of the preceding hour, I’d gathered she wasn’t the sort of person to consider the finer feelings of others) and stomped off. As a parting shot, I remarked to her friends that they should explain to her that, regardless of her sexual orientation, she shouldn’t be perpetuating hateful language.
Gah. Honestly. I mean, I know that “queer” has been reclaimed, but that was part of the ongoing struggle to assert identities and rights. Using the gay-bashing language of the Jamaican dancehalls smacks of ignorance or, if used knowingly, a crass attempt at irony.
What do you think? Was I over the top or totally justified?
In the meantime, the misguided young lesbian in question could perhaps do with a visit to Paul Harfleet's website:
http://www.thepansyproject.blogspot.com/
In this ongoing project, Harfleet plants beautiful flowers at the sites of homophobic assaults, be they physical and/or verbal (and, in some cases, fatal). Sometimes the most angry acts of defiance are also the most beautiful, a lesson I think many of us have forgotten.
Chris
Group of students sat along the bench from me on campus, one of them talked about going out in gay clubs, referring to one that was full of “b***y boys”. Her friends tried to shush her. Then later, as she got up, I said: “Excuse me, but next time you consider using “b***y boy” to refer to a gay man, why don’t you try Googling “Jamaica” and “homophobia” first.” To which she responded “Well I’m gay, so what?” I remarked that the fact she was gay made it worse. She shrugged her shoulders (having talked loudly and incessantly for most of the preceding hour, I’d gathered she wasn’t the sort of person to consider the finer feelings of others) and stomped off. As a parting shot, I remarked to her friends that they should explain to her that, regardless of her sexual orientation, she shouldn’t be perpetuating hateful language.
Gah. Honestly. I mean, I know that “queer” has been reclaimed, but that was part of the ongoing struggle to assert identities and rights. Using the gay-bashing language of the Jamaican dancehalls smacks of ignorance or, if used knowingly, a crass attempt at irony.
What do you think? Was I over the top or totally justified?
In the meantime, the misguided young lesbian in question could perhaps do with a visit to Paul Harfleet's website:
http://www.thepansyproject.blogspot.com/
In this ongoing project, Harfleet plants beautiful flowers at the sites of homophobic assaults, be they physical and/or verbal (and, in some cases, fatal). Sometimes the most angry acts of defiance are also the most beautiful, a lesson I think many of us have forgotten.
Chris
Homophobia on the box
A couple of articles to consider:
http://tinyurl.com/c9ge64
http://tinyurl.com/d6s6v9
Of course, one has to say that, in the case of the latter, this may be an attempt to use controversy to generate ratings, rather like the racism incident on the show a couple of weeks ago. If it isn't, then there need to be seen to be consequences for the person who makes the offensive remarks, as there have been in the former, otherwise it's using unpleasant and outdated views as cheap viewer bait, which is unforgivable.
The other question it begs is: is H from Steps now making the jump from pop star to heavyweight journalist..?
Chris
http://tinyurl.com/c9ge64
http://tinyurl.com/d6s6v9
Of course, one has to say that, in the case of the latter, this may be an attempt to use controversy to generate ratings, rather like the racism incident on the show a couple of weeks ago. If it isn't, then there need to be seen to be consequences for the person who makes the offensive remarks, as there have been in the former, otherwise it's using unpleasant and outdated views as cheap viewer bait, which is unforgivable.
The other question it begs is: is H from Steps now making the jump from pop star to heavyweight journalist..?
Chris
Monday 20 April 2009
Unconvention
My mate Ben's going to be involved in this at the beginning of June. He's the Cake Goblin:
http://unconvention.wordpress.com/cakes/
Go attend (because it'll be interesting) and go eat his cakes (because they'll be delicious).
Chris
http://unconvention.wordpress.com/cakes/
Go attend (because it'll be interesting) and go eat his cakes (because they'll be delicious).
Chris
Sunday 19 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #42: United Kingdom
British hopes rest on
Jade's big Moment and Baron
Greenback's ivories
Saturday 18 April 2009
The One That Got Away
Well, we're nearly at the end of the haiku for this year's Eurovision Song Contest. In fact, there are just two more to go, including one for the United Kingdom entry. Those will come tomorrow, but first I've decided that, for the sake of completeness, I should also do a haiku for the Eurovision entry that won't be heard in either of the semi-finals on 12 and 14 May, or in the final on 16 May. Namely the one that upset hosts Russia so much that they demanded the country in question field another entry - which that country flatly refused to do. They didn't want to put in, so they decided to pull out instead. Here it is:
Eurovision Haiku #0: Georgia
Harmless disco spoof
With comedy hair - clearly
Not political
Eurovision Haiku #0: Georgia
Harmless disco spoof
With comedy hair - clearly
Not political
Eurovision Haiku #40: Germany
Ricky Martin meets
John Barrowman - with big lips
He sings "Let it swing"
Eurovision Haiku #39: France
La chanteuse seule et
Le rouge a levres - pourquoi?
Parce qu'elle le vaut
Friday 17 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #38: Russia
No Dancing on Ice
This time, just wailing, flailing
And pounding the floor
Thursday 16 April 2009
Wednesday 15 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #34: Albania
Girl in the snow and -
Knock me down with a feather -
More purple clothing
Tuesday 14 April 2009
A Touch of Love
Well, what do you know: having blogged a few weeks ago about wondering if anyone could donate a copy of Jonathan Coe's A Touch of Love to an Oxfam bookshop in order that I could complete my collection, this morning it arrived in the post.
Thank you to the person who granted my wish:)
Chris
Thank you to the person who granted my wish:)
Chris
Eurovision Haiku #30: Azerbaijan
Leee John lookalike
Shoots fire from his hands with girl
Living in a box
Monday 13 April 2009
Sunday 12 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #27: Denmark
Cute boy in nice scarf
Turns on the smoke machine for
AM-friendly rock song
Planet of the Dead
A review from last night, or Ten Good Reasons for RTD leaving:
1 - A plotless, aimless story, with no real sense of menace or emotional involvement. Nothing wrong with that per se, but given that this was the first new episode since Christmas, and the only new Who we're getting for the next few months, what could have been overlooked as a mid-season blip in a full series looked, like the 200 bus, woefully exposed stood out on its own.
2 - It was hard to detect Gareth Roberts' influence as co-writer - there was certainly none of the camp zest of his historical literary pastiches or the paciness of his Sarah Jane scripts.
3 - Aside from the ethical implications, doing the desert shoot in Dubai didn't really add anything. Instead there was the inescapable feeling of "let's-do-a-foreign-location-and-give-everyone-a-free-holiday", with no real script justification (see also Arc of Infinity and The Two Doctors). With today's technology, even your bog-standard Devon quarry could have been pimped up to the required standard.
4 - The stingray monsters looked quite impressive, but there was nothing to them other than a rapacious swarm. They were merely fulfilling their natural function, so couldn't even be called "evil". And, given how impressively built they supposedly were, they seemed to be rather too easily destroyed by UNIT firepower.
5 - The Tritovores weren't allowed any sort of personality, so it was hard to feel anything when they both got devoured by the stingrays. More worryingly, it was hard to care about the plight of any of the human characters.
6 - Lady Christina, if she ever returns as a proper companion, has the potential to be a very interesting character, with her amorality and snobbish streak that the Doctor can both utilise and challenge. However, Michelle Ryan needs to be considerably less wooden first.
7 - But at least she was only wooden. Lee Evans as Malcolm and Adam James as MacMillan felt like they'd wandered in from an excruciatingly bad sitcom. Evans in particular was painful to watch with his comedy Welshman shtick. Better would have been, say, Rob Brydon who a) wouldn't have to "do" a Welsh accent and b) could have made the character less of a caricature (I'm thinking Uncle Bryn if he'd ever got to work as a scientist).
8 - The passengers on the bus seemed to be drawn from RTD's pool of stock characters: the moody cute boy; the dolt who comes good; the unhappy middle-aged woman; and the sympathetic old couple, one of whom delivers the Cryptic Prophesy of Doom that'll probably be realised round about Christmas. If there are only seven types of story, then you start to wonder after four years if there are even fewer types of people in the ones written by Russell T Davies.
9 - The Doctor's umpteenth pep talk consisting of him banging on about how people's boring, inconsequential lives of chips, cups of tea and domestic squabbles are the most wonderful thing in the whole Universe. We get the message that the Doctor prizes these trivialities because he can never have that sort of life himself - but you're left hoping that Steven Moffat invests the Eleventh Doctor with a healthy disdain for the narrow scope of most people's lives, and which would thus make Lady Christina an eminently suitable companion.
10 - Finally, and really it ain't looking good when the main cultural point of reference at the top of the episode is dreary Sean Connery/Catherine Zeta-Jones heistbore Entrapment.
And One Good Reason why he's not gone just yet:
The Waters of Mars - Lindsay Duncan, group jeopardy on a space colony and gruesome deaths. It looks fantastic, and it'd be just like this most wildly inconsistent of writers to come up with an absolute classic after this comparative dud.
Chris
1 - A plotless, aimless story, with no real sense of menace or emotional involvement. Nothing wrong with that per se, but given that this was the first new episode since Christmas, and the only new Who we're getting for the next few months, what could have been overlooked as a mid-season blip in a full series looked, like the 200 bus, woefully exposed stood out on its own.
2 - It was hard to detect Gareth Roberts' influence as co-writer - there was certainly none of the camp zest of his historical literary pastiches or the paciness of his Sarah Jane scripts.
3 - Aside from the ethical implications, doing the desert shoot in Dubai didn't really add anything. Instead there was the inescapable feeling of "let's-do-a-foreign-location-and-give-everyone-a-free-holiday", with no real script justification (see also Arc of Infinity and The Two Doctors). With today's technology, even your bog-standard Devon quarry could have been pimped up to the required standard.
4 - The stingray monsters looked quite impressive, but there was nothing to them other than a rapacious swarm. They were merely fulfilling their natural function, so couldn't even be called "evil". And, given how impressively built they supposedly were, they seemed to be rather too easily destroyed by UNIT firepower.
5 - The Tritovores weren't allowed any sort of personality, so it was hard to feel anything when they both got devoured by the stingrays. More worryingly, it was hard to care about the plight of any of the human characters.
6 - Lady Christina, if she ever returns as a proper companion, has the potential to be a very interesting character, with her amorality and snobbish streak that the Doctor can both utilise and challenge. However, Michelle Ryan needs to be considerably less wooden first.
7 - But at least she was only wooden. Lee Evans as Malcolm and Adam James as MacMillan felt like they'd wandered in from an excruciatingly bad sitcom. Evans in particular was painful to watch with his comedy Welshman shtick. Better would have been, say, Rob Brydon who a) wouldn't have to "do" a Welsh accent and b) could have made the character less of a caricature (I'm thinking Uncle Bryn if he'd ever got to work as a scientist).
8 - The passengers on the bus seemed to be drawn from RTD's pool of stock characters: the moody cute boy; the dolt who comes good; the unhappy middle-aged woman; and the sympathetic old couple, one of whom delivers the Cryptic Prophesy of Doom that'll probably be realised round about Christmas. If there are only seven types of story, then you start to wonder after four years if there are even fewer types of people in the ones written by Russell T Davies.
9 - The Doctor's umpteenth pep talk consisting of him banging on about how people's boring, inconsequential lives of chips, cups of tea and domestic squabbles are the most wonderful thing in the whole Universe. We get the message that the Doctor prizes these trivialities because he can never have that sort of life himself - but you're left hoping that Steven Moffat invests the Eleventh Doctor with a healthy disdain for the narrow scope of most people's lives, and which would thus make Lady Christina an eminently suitable companion.
10 - Finally, and really it ain't looking good when the main cultural point of reference at the top of the episode is dreary Sean Connery/Catherine Zeta-Jones heistbore Entrapment.
And One Good Reason why he's not gone just yet:
The Waters of Mars - Lindsay Duncan, group jeopardy on a space colony and gruesome deaths. It looks fantastic, and it'd be just like this most wildly inconsistent of writers to come up with an absolute classic after this comparative dud.
Chris
Saturday 11 April 2009
Friday 10 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #24: Norway
No Jan Teigen this
Hot young boy with his fiddle
And his High School folk
Queens of British Pop
I watched the second part of this BBC documentary on catch-up last night, having foolishly missed the first part (although I've managed to catch some of that on YouTube). The first part had ended with Siouxsie Sioux and Kate Bush, showing how a new independent spirit and refusal to comply with prescribed roles had informed women in music, after years of being the passive vehicles of ruthless, controlling Svengalis. Part Two continued that thread with Annie Lennox and Alison Moyet.
The section on Lennox was particularly interesting as it reminded viewers of her experimentations with gender roles, from the shaved redhead of the early Eurythmics videos, through to her Elvis at the 1992 Grammys. Nevertheless, you felt the documentary missed a trick: after all, Lennox was continuing the tradition of androgyny that Bowie had begun a decade earlier; and furthermore there was no comparison with Grace Jones's contemporaneous efforts. Indeed, the Annie-kissing-Annie scene in the video for Who's That Girl is, as an idea, a direct steal from Jones's My Jamaican Guy, in which Grace likewise plays herself as a man kissing herself as a woman. There were however bonus points for ignoring most of the Eurythmics' bland, uninspired post-1984 output - save that is for the delightfully weird, and very rarely heard, 1987 single Beethoven (I Love To Listen To). Meanwhile, the section on Alison Moyet was a reminder of probably one of the most underrated artists in this country. With Yazoo, she like Lennox, used her powerful, soulful voice as a humanising counterpoint to the icy synths - subsequently, she fought to keep her individuality, a struggle compounded by the depressing media focus on her body.
Having concentrated on empowered, individual women, the documentary then suggested a reversion of the trend by moving on to Kylie. Yes, Kylie, an Australian - but as if to silence any dissent, Pete Waterman shouted (Pete Waterman hardly ever just talks) that she was
"more British than Australian". Kylie's attempts to break free from the sexless shackles of the Hit Factory and present herself as a sexual, sensual being were derided by Waterman (ever the champion of feminism) for making her look "like a prostitute". Meanwhile, her indie phase of the mid-nineties (represented here by Confide in Me and Where the Wild Roses Grow) was treated as some sort of blip, a lapse in judgement rectified with her (literally) half-arsed Spinning Around video. Granted, it's true that that single and the monumental sequel, Can't Get You Out of My Head, rescued Kylie from several years of poor sales and elevated her to national treasure status. Yet it also felt as though a documentary that had, ten minutes ago, been celebrating independent spirit, had now done a complete U-turn and was criticising her for daring to do what she wanted, rather than just being a disco diva all along.
Quite what Geri Halliwell was doing there, I'm not sure. We were supposed to swallow the notion that it was Halliwell, not Simon Fuller, who was the "brains" behind the whole Girl Power phenomenon spearheaded by the Spice Girls, although archive clips merely served to expose once more the idiocy of the concept. Pushing your face in the camera, throwing yourself all over men and shouting a lot isn't liberating. It's just demeaning, for everyone involved. Trying to suggest that the Spice Girls were "punk", as though putting them on a par with Siouxsie, was just insulting. Siouxsie just needed a look of sneering disdain to get the upper hand on the drunken, lecherous Bill Grundy. And, like Kylie, Geri was criticised for turning her back on the image that made her big in the first place, although given her subsequent train-wreck of a career, there was perhaps some justification in this instance.
The section on Amy Winehouse was poignant, inasmuch as it featured clips from a few years ago of a younger, clean, lucid and articulate Winehouse, back then a highly promising new talent rather than the messed-up tabloid staple she's subsequently become. Winehouse's subsequent relationship with Blake Fielder-Civil has done nothing for her health; but on the other hand, if it hadn't happened then we wouldn't have got one of the best albums of the decade. The notion of a woman suffering for her art made it feel like things were moving back, back to Marianne, back to Dusty - and then the final piece really did bring the documentary full circle. By ending with Leona Lewis, Queens of British Pop demonstrated that, despite the push for equality instigated by punk, the situation now is really no different from nearly half-a-century ago: Britain's biggest female pop star is the passive vehicle of a ruthless, controlling Svengali. But whilst Sandie, Dusty and Marianne (and Kylie) all eventually broke free and went on to feted indie collaborations, it's hard to see either Leona or her Mini-Me Alexandra Burke being allowed to do the same. Better instead would have been some mention of today's British alt-queens and inheritors of the Kate/Siouxsie mantle: Alison Goldfrapp, Natasha Khan (aka Bat For Lashes) or MIA. They might not shift as many units as those carried along on the Cowell juggernaut, but I suspect they'll still be around when the wheels finally come off.
Another negative point to make about the documentary was the quality of the talking heads. At the start of this episode, we had the likes of Marc Almond and Dawn French discussing gender politics and the music industry; by the end, things had regressed to Simon Cowell and Nicky Chapman regurgitating their corrosive lies about the democratising power of programmes like The X-Factor (which, like all free-market enterprises, ultimately serves to further the monopoly of one particular entity). Overall though, as a whistle-stop tour of women in pop over the last 50 years it was interesting. But now we've had the primer, it would be nice to have a proper series with, say, a whole hour devoted to one artist at a time. Our attention spans can still withstand those demands, you know.
Chris
The section on Lennox was particularly interesting as it reminded viewers of her experimentations with gender roles, from the shaved redhead of the early Eurythmics videos, through to her Elvis at the 1992 Grammys. Nevertheless, you felt the documentary missed a trick: after all, Lennox was continuing the tradition of androgyny that Bowie had begun a decade earlier; and furthermore there was no comparison with Grace Jones's contemporaneous efforts. Indeed, the Annie-kissing-Annie scene in the video for Who's That Girl is, as an idea, a direct steal from Jones's My Jamaican Guy, in which Grace likewise plays herself as a man kissing herself as a woman. There were however bonus points for ignoring most of the Eurythmics' bland, uninspired post-1984 output - save that is for the delightfully weird, and very rarely heard, 1987 single Beethoven (I Love To Listen To). Meanwhile, the section on Alison Moyet was a reminder of probably one of the most underrated artists in this country. With Yazoo, she like Lennox, used her powerful, soulful voice as a humanising counterpoint to the icy synths - subsequently, she fought to keep her individuality, a struggle compounded by the depressing media focus on her body.
Having concentrated on empowered, individual women, the documentary then suggested a reversion of the trend by moving on to Kylie. Yes, Kylie, an Australian - but as if to silence any dissent, Pete Waterman shouted (Pete Waterman hardly ever just talks) that she was
"more British than Australian". Kylie's attempts to break free from the sexless shackles of the Hit Factory and present herself as a sexual, sensual being were derided by Waterman (ever the champion of feminism) for making her look "like a prostitute". Meanwhile, her indie phase of the mid-nineties (represented here by Confide in Me and Where the Wild Roses Grow) was treated as some sort of blip, a lapse in judgement rectified with her (literally) half-arsed Spinning Around video. Granted, it's true that that single and the monumental sequel, Can't Get You Out of My Head, rescued Kylie from several years of poor sales and elevated her to national treasure status. Yet it also felt as though a documentary that had, ten minutes ago, been celebrating independent spirit, had now done a complete U-turn and was criticising her for daring to do what she wanted, rather than just being a disco diva all along.
Quite what Geri Halliwell was doing there, I'm not sure. We were supposed to swallow the notion that it was Halliwell, not Simon Fuller, who was the "brains" behind the whole Girl Power phenomenon spearheaded by the Spice Girls, although archive clips merely served to expose once more the idiocy of the concept. Pushing your face in the camera, throwing yourself all over men and shouting a lot isn't liberating. It's just demeaning, for everyone involved. Trying to suggest that the Spice Girls were "punk", as though putting them on a par with Siouxsie, was just insulting. Siouxsie just needed a look of sneering disdain to get the upper hand on the drunken, lecherous Bill Grundy. And, like Kylie, Geri was criticised for turning her back on the image that made her big in the first place, although given her subsequent train-wreck of a career, there was perhaps some justification in this instance.
The section on Amy Winehouse was poignant, inasmuch as it featured clips from a few years ago of a younger, clean, lucid and articulate Winehouse, back then a highly promising new talent rather than the messed-up tabloid staple she's subsequently become. Winehouse's subsequent relationship with Blake Fielder-Civil has done nothing for her health; but on the other hand, if it hadn't happened then we wouldn't have got one of the best albums of the decade. The notion of a woman suffering for her art made it feel like things were moving back, back to Marianne, back to Dusty - and then the final piece really did bring the documentary full circle. By ending with Leona Lewis, Queens of British Pop demonstrated that, despite the push for equality instigated by punk, the situation now is really no different from nearly half-a-century ago: Britain's biggest female pop star is the passive vehicle of a ruthless, controlling Svengali. But whilst Sandie, Dusty and Marianne (and Kylie) all eventually broke free and went on to feted indie collaborations, it's hard to see either Leona or her Mini-Me Alexandra Burke being allowed to do the same. Better instead would have been some mention of today's British alt-queens and inheritors of the Kate/Siouxsie mantle: Alison Goldfrapp, Natasha Khan (aka Bat For Lashes) or MIA. They might not shift as many units as those carried along on the Cowell juggernaut, but I suspect they'll still be around when the wheels finally come off.
Another negative point to make about the documentary was the quality of the talking heads. At the start of this episode, we had the likes of Marc Almond and Dawn French discussing gender politics and the music industry; by the end, things had regressed to Simon Cowell and Nicky Chapman regurgitating their corrosive lies about the democratising power of programmes like The X-Factor (which, like all free-market enterprises, ultimately serves to further the monopoly of one particular entity). Overall though, as a whistle-stop tour of women in pop over the last 50 years it was interesting. But now we've had the primer, it would be nice to have a proper series with, say, a whole hour devoted to one artist at a time. Our attention spans can still withstand those demands, you know.
Chris
Thursday 9 April 2009
Wednesday 8 April 2009
Film club
Last night, whilst out on birthday dinner with my friend Rob and housemate Debbie, we decided between us to start up our own film club. The first rule of film club obviously being that we don't talk about film club. We're going to start it next Monday with a viewing of Gladiator (it's one of Debbie's favourite films, although I've never seen it, not being one for sword-and-sandal epics; I think I associate them with all those big, overblown Biblical epics from the 1950s that were always reliably shown over Easter). We'll then try and theme it by actors or directors. Should be fun.
Might get a few more people involved as time goes on. I think my friend Ben is going to try and get involved remotely. He suggested we could make it a bit gladiatorial, thusly:
http://markversus.co.uk/#about
That could add another fun element to the proceedings. Any more suggestions welcome.
Chris
Might get a few more people involved as time goes on. I think my friend Ben is going to try and get involved remotely. He suggested we could make it a bit gladiatorial, thusly:
http://markversus.co.uk/#about
That could add another fun element to the proceedings. Any more suggestions welcome.
Chris
Monday 6 April 2009
Now we're about halfway...
... with the Eurovision haiku, it's time for a quick interval. I'd like to take this opportunity to apologise for the video accompanying the Croatian entry, which really should not be viewed by anyone of a sensitive aural disposition.
I have to say that, from what I've seen so far, there's no standout favourite - last year I was a bit rubbish predicting what would get through the semis and what wouldn't and dismissed the eventual winner as boring (although I still stand by that assertion;-).
Anyway, there'll be a couple more haiku tomorrow. That's after I've gone out for dinner for my friend Rob's birthday - I've got him a very nice present, one which should hopefully appeal to someone with a great love of film...
Chris
I have to say that, from what I've seen so far, there's no standout favourite - last year I was a bit rubbish predicting what would get through the semis and what wouldn't and dismissed the eventual winner as boring (although I still stand by that assertion;-).
Anyway, there'll be a couple more haiku tomorrow. That's after I've gone out for dinner for my friend Rob's birthday - I've got him a very nice present, one which should hopefully appeal to someone with a great love of film...
Chris
Sunday 5 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #18: Bosnia-Herzegovina
Some cute indie boys
Keep the red flag flying whilst
Dressed like Kasabian
Saturday 4 April 2009
Sparkling
Used the classic vinegar solution and newspaper method to clean the windows this afternoon. The Guardian Sport section brought them out a treat. The only drawback, after doing them inside, was that it smelt like a chippie for a while. Plus the Grauniad has redeemed itself today after the unnecessary sight of Chris Moyles on the front of the Weekend.
Also blitzed the kitchen - I think I must have the spring cleaning bug today. A couple more haiku, and then I'm going to make some pizza for tea...
Chris
Also blitzed the kitchen - I think I must have the spring cleaning bug today. A couple more haiku, and then I'm going to make some pizza for tea...
Chris
Friday 3 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #13: FYR Macedonia
Eighties hair metal
Performed by a twelve-year-old
With dodgy highlights
Thursday 2 April 2009
I'd hire Howard
Proving that I tend to be rather behind the curve with TV gossip, I finally picked up today on the fact that Apprentice candidate Howard Ebison happens to bat on the same team as myself. A somewhat inaccurate report in one of the Sunday red tops claimed Howard was the first-ever openly gay man on the Apprentice - which he isn't. Previous candidates Lohit Kalburgi (Series 3) and Nicholas de Lacy Brown (Series 4) were both out and proud moxes, although as Nicholas was fired in the first week of his series after selling lobsters for five quid (not to mention wibbling on at the former chair of Tottenham Hotspur that he found it hard to relate to people who like football), it might be best to draw a veil over him and his ill-advised facial hair. And before any of the boys of course, there was The Badger, back in Series 2.
Back to Howard though, and after leading his team to victory in last week's car cleaning task (despite being consistently undermined by passive-aggressive whinger Philip), he found himself hauled back in the boardroom last night by losing project manager Rocky after the boys suffered a catastrophic defeat thanks to a corporate catering event in which the team wore sports gear (and later togas, exposing some very spotty backs) and served bizarre canapes with a vague "Olympic" theme. Despite being criticised for not using his experience as a pub manager to put the brakes on the food costs, Howard scraped through after Sralan decided that Rocky had made too many errors as team leader (including bringing back him and James, who proceeded to spew forth a mighty torrent of word vomit and subsequently disclosed releasing a small torrent of something else).
Howard himself is emerging as one of the more likeable candidates this series - admittedly not difficult in the Apprentice, where demonstrating the mere vestige of a soul tends to put you at a spiritual advantage to everyone else. Plus he's in a happy, long-term relationship - doubtless a source of enormous frustration to the more prurient sections of the media, who were only too pleased to drool their righteous saliva all over the details of Ruth Badger's personal life. I hope he progresses a lot further in the competition, without resorting to any dirty tactics, whilst creating a positive role model for young LGBT people who want to succeed in a business world that still seems to be dominated by machismo and aggression.
Chris
Back to Howard though, and after leading his team to victory in last week's car cleaning task (despite being consistently undermined by passive-aggressive whinger Philip), he found himself hauled back in the boardroom last night by losing project manager Rocky after the boys suffered a catastrophic defeat thanks to a corporate catering event in which the team wore sports gear (and later togas, exposing some very spotty backs) and served bizarre canapes with a vague "Olympic" theme. Despite being criticised for not using his experience as a pub manager to put the brakes on the food costs, Howard scraped through after Sralan decided that Rocky had made too many errors as team leader (including bringing back him and James, who proceeded to spew forth a mighty torrent of word vomit and subsequently disclosed releasing a small torrent of something else).
Howard himself is emerging as one of the more likeable candidates this series - admittedly not difficult in the Apprentice, where demonstrating the mere vestige of a soul tends to put you at a spiritual advantage to everyone else. Plus he's in a happy, long-term relationship - doubtless a source of enormous frustration to the more prurient sections of the media, who were only too pleased to drool their righteous saliva all over the details of Ruth Badger's personal life. I hope he progresses a lot further in the competition, without resorting to any dirty tactics, whilst creating a positive role model for young LGBT people who want to succeed in a business world that still seems to be dominated by machismo and aggression.
Chris
Wednesday 1 April 2009
Eurovision Haiku #9: Turkey
More Eastern promise
Now sounding hackneyed - Turkish
Delight has gone stale
April Fail
Disappointing lack of April Fool's stories on BBC Breakfast this morning, who instead seemed more interested in focusing on nothing happening at all outside the gates of Regent's Park (the Presidential vehicle was running late). This is the kind of non-news pointed out by Charlie Brooker in Newswipe last week. Indeed, both this morning's non-arrival of Obama and last night's landing at Stansted Airport were laughably branded as "breaking news". To me, "breaking news" is the sudden occurrence of something unexpected, not a scheduled event. More, in these rolling days, is less.
Anyway, I did catch the tail-end of something suspicious-sounding on the local bulletin, about a large animal in the sewers under Leeds, which is probably a fool unless Chris Moyles has reverted to his natural habitat. Later there was a bizarre couple of minutes of a still shot of an empty seat in the Look North studio, accompanied by some bossa nova music.
At least the Guardian have made an effort:
http://tinyurl.com/cv6z7k
Meanwhile, an important discovery has been made off the coast of Mexico:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/lastchancetosee/
Chris
Anyway, I did catch the tail-end of something suspicious-sounding on the local bulletin, about a large animal in the sewers under Leeds, which is probably a fool unless Chris Moyles has reverted to his natural habitat. Later there was a bizarre couple of minutes of a still shot of an empty seat in the Look North studio, accompanied by some bossa nova music.
At least the Guardian have made an effort:
http://tinyurl.com/cv6z7k
Meanwhile, an important discovery has been made off the coast of Mexico:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/lastchancetosee/
Chris
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