WriteClub

Sparklehorse – It’s A Wonderful Life (2001)

The death of Mark Linkous on Saturday is a saddening reminder that for some musicians, it’s for real. He was one of a very few artists who are capable of creating beauty out of overwhelming despair – as he said himself, he only started to find his voice when he gave up on becoming a rock star. I encountered this album via hearing the title track, buried in the middle of a particularly turgid compilation of alt. country artists. It’s an album that I love to this day. Quite simply, we will miss him.

A Single Man (2009)

A Single Man is based on a Christopher Isherwood story that addresses the universal themes of death, alienation and fear. It is the story of a single day in the life of a middle aged college professor played by Colin Firth who has struggled since his lover was killed in a car accident. The family’s callous refusal to allow him to attend the funeral denies him the opportunity to pay his last respects.

Colin Firth’s character, George plans to kill himself and as his day progresses his dealings with other human beings turn into a series of small goodbyes culminating in an encounter with a male student who has identified him as a kindred spirit. They go swimming and return to George’s house. George wakes up in the night to find the student asleep on the couch, having discovered and confiscated the gun with which George planned to dispatch himself. In this moment George realises there is hope and having gained peace with his grief, suffers a heart attack and dies.

This is a significant film, not least because in spite of it’s big themes and art house direction it is playing to packed houses across the UK. It would seem that contrary to prevailing trends in both cinema and television, audiences are choosing to watch this intelligent and touching film rather than the latest stupefying episode of ‘Celebrity Come Dancing’ or whatever other dreary format the commissioning editors choose to insult our intelligence with.

It would be nice to imagine that the recognition granted to this and other recent films such as Kathryn Bigelow’s ‘The Hurt Locker’ will inspire a new wave of intelligent film making. Is it also too much to hope for that the audiences flocking to see these films might inspire television’s commissioning editors to take a few risks? Whisper it quietly, but could it be that Mark Thompson, the director general of the BBC, has finally got it right in his avowed intention to sacrifice quantity for quality?

Kylie Minogue and the Gorilla Experiment

To a large extent, we see and hear what we expect to see and hear. As newborns we're hit with a tidal wave of experiential data, a screaming torrent of raw sensory information that we have to learn how to deal with, and our brains' main coping strategy is to scrunch itself up until it's found ways of shutting out most of the din.

As infants, we initially lose neurons at an alarming rate until the remaining pathways can mimic (and to some extent sychronise with and predict) external datapatterns. We construct progressively more complex predictive mental models for how the outside world works, and increasingly live within our own models. We experience what we expect to experience, unless there's such a glaring mismatch that it can't be ignored.

It's a matter of data-reduction and enhanced reaction-times. We coast along, our experience being steered by sensory data but not dictated by it. If you're sitting on a chair, you don't suddenly jolt every few seconds and exclaim, "Chair!" – once the chair's been accepted you assume that it's still there until you're told otherwise. This internal secondary reality also compensates for the significant processing delays that happen in our brains – so that we think that we experience the world in real-time – by starting to react unconsciously to our internal models' predictions, before we're consciously aware of what we've seen. We live our lives from moment to moment in a state of continual anticipation.

Sometimes random data tickles our expectation-engine – when a black bin-bag blowing in the wind in the corner of an alley momentarily triggers an expectation of seeing a black cat, we don't just interpret the movement as possibly belonging to a cat, we actually see and remember the cat (until we look a second time and realise that it's just a refuse bag, and the rogue memory gets shredded).

These models act as perception filters and error-correction filters for what our brains allow us to register as reality. Information that's not compatible with the model (or not relevant) simply doesn't register on our consciousnesses, it gets stripped out as anomalous data and jettisoned before we have a chance to become fully aware of it.

The usual example for this is the basketball experiment, conducted by Daniel Simons and Christopher Chabris in the 1990s, but unfortunately, if I explain what the experiment is, it'll spoil it for you. If you don't already know about it, don't read anything else about it until you've watched this video and tried to count just the number of basketball passes made my the people in the white shirts. Then read the analysis.

The Gorilla Effect is now considered a classic, but what most psychologists might not realise is that in 1991, someone had already done a large-scale version of the experiment, using the UK's music broadcasting networks.

In '91, Kylie Minogue was still widely seen as a squeaky-clean pop songstress, freshly out of Neighbours, warbling heavily-processed Stock Aitken and Waterman lyrics over generic (and slightly cheesy) SAW chunka-chunka backing tracks.And that's when someone at the Minogue team decided to slip the f-word into one of the singles, three times, to see who noticed. Nobody did.

The single was called "Shocked" and charted at number 6.

" Shocked by the power, ooh-ohh, shocked by the power of love.
You got me fucked to my very foundations, shocked by the power, shocked by the power ..."

Whattt???

Uncharacteristcally for SAW lyrics, “fucked to my very foundations” was actually a pretty great line for a pop song. Alliterative an' everything. I'd have been proud of it. And maybe that's why someone decided to leave it in.

Whether it was an ad-lib, like Atomic Kitten's alternative “You can lick my hole again” soundcheck version of their single, I don't know. But that's the version of "Shocked" that actually got broadcast, over and over again, on TV and on the radio. In a country that was obsessed with the F-word being used on music programmes, in which the Sex Pistols had made their careers by effing on Bill Grundy's show, and Jools Holland was suspended for accidentally let it slip on a live trailer for "The Tube" in 1987, and every Madonna single was eagerly being pored over by the UK press for possible naughty words or double-entendres that people could declare themselves outraged by, la Minogue got away with repeatedly standing up on Top of the Pops [a bit after ~7pm], and apparently singing her little heart out about how she was "fucked to my very foundations", three or four times per appearance, without anyone hearing it.

If you get hold of the more recent "Ultimate Kylie" compilation, the audio's different. They've either changed the recording or used a different version in which The Kylie is definitely singing "rrucked", with a pronounced "rr" rather than "fucked", with an "ff". But go back to contemporary broadcast recordings of the single ( thanks, YouTube! ), and yep – it's different.

The "Kylie" version of the gorilla experiment might be one of the biggest mass-media psychological experiments ever to take place, but unless you can get hold of contemporary recordings of radio and TV broadcasts, you might be forgiven for thinking that it never happened.

Dog’s best friend

Dogs. What are they for? What do they want from us? Why the smell? Last night I got up close and personal with a bull terrier called Moo, and I have to say, I quite enjoyed it. Ever since our Blackie licked Nivea Cream off my knee then licked his bits (I think it was that way around), I’ve had a soft spot for dogs. And when I say ‘dogs’, I mean proper dogs - the ones with deep voices, a musty whiff, and the flexibility of Olga Korbut, enabling them to chew their genitals with ease. Oh those heady summer nights of 1976 when the family visited Dorset in a Sprite caravan and Blackie had an irritated ball sack. How our caravan rocked to the rhythm of his chomping as the poor mutt struggled to relieve himself of his terrible affliction. Thinking about it, I reckon he might have had dog VD; well he did put it about a bit. Dogs eh!

Peak Oil – for businesspeople.

Below is a piece I wrote as a guest of Birds on the Blog. I found it an interesting challenge to write about a subject potentially so emotive in a way that, I hope, allows people who might be less aware of ecological concerns both to accept it and to find something of value in it. I guess I’ll discover how successful I’ve been when I receive some feedback!

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What will we do when the oil runs out?

I’m feeling particularly honoured today. Not only am I accorded the status of ‘guest blogger’, I’m also ‘guest male’. Plus, I get to write about a subject I’ve been bending peoples’ ears about for many years already. My own personal soapbox.

As you’re probably aware, the oil in question is crude oil, rather than, say, vegetable oil. M. King Hubbert first outlined the phenomenon of peak oil in 1956, and predicted the peak in oil production in the lower 48 U.S. states with remarkable accuracy. While it’s impossible to know for sure, most people who study these things reckon that we can expect a global peak sometime within the next five to fifteen years. Richard Branson, who has more reason than most to be concerned with fuel prices, has recently been instrumental in attempting to get the message across to UK political leaders.

When you think about it, this is a pretty scary prospect. In the 100 years or so that we’ve been served by an abundant flow of cheap crude, we’ve become dependent upon it in every aspect of our lives. The possibility of having to do without it can leave us feeling a bit like junkies facing the reality of our last fix. Imagining a world beyond that oil peak can be near-impossible, as we contemplate the extent to which every aspect of our lives may need to change. The exploitation of Canadian tar sands seems like an example of a forlorn attempt to prolong the oil age for a few more years rather than accept the inevitable decline.

On the other hand, a peak in oil supplies offers some tremendous opportunities. How many of us feel stressed and harrassed by the isolating influences of modern life? I know I do, at times. While we live in an age of material abundance unequalled at any time in history, the quality of our lives could sometimes be improved by a little less pressure, a little more time to relax, more creativity in our lives, and more opportunity to socialise with friends and family.

OK; maybe not family.

As to what we can actually do in the face of an oil peak, that’s an exceptionally difficult question to answer. If I claimed to have a definitive response, I’d be lying. I doubt anyone can provide one. Some people are investing in renewable technologies, in the hope that when an oil shock hits they’ll be able to take up at least some of the slack. Others are focussing more on becoming self-sufficient in basic needs such as food, rediscovering the joys of working in allotments or community gardens. The Transition Towns movement offers one example of a broad-based community approach to the situation. Even simple steps such as insulating the loft can have a big impact on the amount of energy we use to heat our houses.

On the other hand, there are powerful forces that prevent us from getting too far off the oil treadmill, unless we’re prepared to make some pretty radical shifts in our expectations. In a global market where national and international travel is commonplace, trying to avoid driving or flying can feel like more trouble than it’s worth. Where high consumption of fossil fuels is the norm, being the one who says ‘not for me, thanks’ can make the person who utters it feel about as popular as a clown at a funeral. To an extent, this is simply part of the age we live in. On some level, we all recognise that oil reserves are declining. On the other hand, conversations about how we will respond to the declines when they have a noticeable impact on our lives are still fairly marginal.

Overall, my attitude to peak oil is to be aware of it, accept that it will unfold over the next few years, and do what I can to mitigate my fossil fuel use. I’m pretty good when it comes to eating local food, for example, and I rarely drive. On the other hand, I live in rented accommodation so I’m quite limited in terms of insulating the house or switching to electricity generated renewably. What the world will actually look like post-peak is anyone’s guess. It’s easy to get nostalgic for an imagined pastoral age that was supplanted by industrialism, even though that kind of existence was almost certainly a great deal harsher and more limited than the lives we’re used to. Without oil to free us from the land, it may be that more of our time will once again need to be devoted to meeting our basic needs. On the other hand, the technological and communication advances made possible through oil have changed our lives in many ways. It seems very unlikely that we will simply regress back into a state similar to the one we emerged from.

A best case scenario, at least in my eyes, involves making use of the technology and knowledge that has emerged from the past century or so, while recognising the limits that an oil peak imposes upon our material consumption. If we can do that, maybe we can use peak oil to catalyse a transition to a new way of life, rather than perceiving it as a threat to be scared of.

Laurie Anderson – Mister Heartbreak (1984)

If melody and the avant garde are strangers, then the dreaded Fairlight synthesiser and good music are claws out, blood letting foes, never to be reconciled. There is an exception that proves this rule. Produced by the incomparable Bill Laswell, ‘Mister Heartbreak’ contains jaw droppingly beautiful melodies and a palette of sounds varied enough to make Brian Eno weep. This was Laurie Anderson’s second album, produced in the days when record companies were brave enough to hand seven album deals out to ‘difficult’ artists. They made their money back with ‘O Superman’, but this music retains the same impact today as it had back then. A core band consisting of Talking Head and sometime King Crimson stalwart Adrian Belew, The Golden Palamino’s Anton Fier and Material’s Bill Laswell, augmented by guest appearances from the likes of William Burroughs, Nile Rodgers and Peter Gabriel was always going to produce music of the highest quality, but this is inspired. Also check ‘Bright Red’, produced by Brian Eno.

RIP Michael Foot (1913-2010)

Photograph: Jane Brown (via Guardian.co.uk)

Unilateral nuclear disarmament. Republicanism. State ownership of major industries. In these times characterised by airbrushed politicians stuffing their own pockets with taxpayer cash and the main political parties having little but an ideological cigarette paper between them, it's almost hard to believe that there was a time when such major issues were even present in mainstream political discourse in Britain. Yet in recent memory (mine at least), these and other related ideals were fought over with great passion and seriousness, until the country seemed to largely accept that 'Thatcher won'.

The man that epitomised these principled yet widely contested principles died today. Michael Foot, former leader of the Labour Party, passed away having tucked a mightily impressive 96 years under his belt. A figure of another age, one where principles trumped presentation, he had the misfortune to stand in the way of the then-snowballing Thatcher revolution, facing her at the ballot box shortly after her nostalgically imperialist face-off with Argentina over the Falkland Islands/Las Malvinas conflict.

I am not an obituarist, thus will not write one for him. The Guardian covers his life well enough and Wikipedia provides further background on him. I will, however, mark his passing with a couple of personal memories that should serve to demonstrate a little of the humanity of the man, along with his commitment to peace.

As a ten-year old boy growing up in the early 80s with a fear of global nuclear war, I joined my parents on a march through London in favour of nuclear disarmament. Organised by CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament), of whom Foot was founding member, this rally had a deep impact on me. Growing up later on as a teenager, I found myself unable to rebel against my parents in the way characteristic of many British teenagers, but rejected the ordering of the world I saw around me as unjust. The march showed me that it was right to express opposition to what one believed to be wrong. It introduced me to the word 'Hiroshima', a place I would come to visit more than twenty years later once my activist heart had reawakened after a lengthy period of dormancy. It stirred the excitement of protest, a feeling that never left me even when I became disengaged from political processes.

When the bulk of the marchers reached Hyde Park at around midday, a klaxon sounded, in simulation of a nuclear strike. I may not have fully understood the implications of this at ten years old, but nevertheless felt its power. When that air-rending siren blared through the open expanses of the windy London park, all present laid face-down on the ground as if the bombers were overhead and ready to drop their lethal cargoes. If the shifting sands of my memory is correct, somewhere near where I was lying down was the then Leader of the Opposition, Michael Foot. His passionate belief in the principles of peace over violence had stayed with him throughout his political life and here he was, lying down with the people that he was striving to represent on the national and international stage.

When asked during the ill-fated 1983 election campaign if he would ever use a nuclear bomb should he become prime minster he replied:

I cannot conceive of any such circumstances in which it would be anything other than criminal insanity...To say you are going to use a weapon which is going to involve mass suicide for this country and mass genocide as well...is itself incredible.

I cannot conceive of any mainstream contemporary British politician taking such a stance today. Indeed, it is given as conventional wisdom that such principles are what made the Labour Party 'unelectable' during the early 80s. Nowadays, we who clamour for a turning of the post-millennial tide of Western militarism and the revival of neo-imperial resource grabs have to clutch at the straws of the rare spectacle of an American President apparently committed to massively reducing his nation's nuclear stockpile.

Foot's opposition to war was longstanding and extended well beyond the nuclear issue. He spoke out against the 1968 Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, visited dissidents and victims of torture in Franco's Spain, and opposed the Vietnam War. Although he backed Thatcher in her South Atlantic adventures due to his stance on the Argentine military junta, this hatred of despotic regimes didn't prevent his from speaking out against Blair's biggest folly, saying of the 2003 invasion of Iraq that 'the idea of a pre-emptive strike is a terrible, terrible idea' adding that 'the dangers of this idea spreading are just appalling'.

My other 'moment with Michael' came during my more politically fallow years. One of the hippy hordes making his way back from another early 90s Glastonbury Festival, I was waiting at Bristol Temple Meads station for a train to take me back to Wales, where I was living. A frail old man was waiting for the same train on the platform next to me and as he seemed to have trouble walking, I offered to help him onto the train. He accepted my offer and it dawned on me that the man was none other than Michael Foot. We sat together in the carriage for an hour, chatting about the state of the country under the Major administration and issues that were plaguing education at the time. He got off at his station, Ebbw Vale, leaving me somewhat in wonder at the encounter I had just had. This country once produced politicians with greater callings than Westminster being little more than a passport to the elite.

A man of peace with a deep commitment to human freedom has gone. His words and ideas remain. Let them not be easily forgotten.

Archive clip: Shelf Life – ‘Stepping Razor’

I've been trying to upload a new video to my YouTube channel every two weeks this year, as a way of building audience, increasing the amount of personal output and keeping a hand in while my attention is held by the diploma I'm squeezing around the day job. So far, it's proved fairly manageable and has meant that I don't drop off the social radar of my own web networks for too long!

The latest video to go this weekend was another clip from the Shelf Life archive. This video was shot in 2005 and has the band performing a cover of Peter Tosh's signature tune 'Stepping Razor' as our show closer. As with most of these archive clips, the quality isn't great but it's enough to get a feeling.

I'd wanted to cover the song for many years, having first heard it in Brighton back in the mid-90s. Never quite had a band that would be willing or likely to take it on until Shelf Life. Keisuke, our guest guitarist for that show, does a pretty mean job on delivering some of the guitar anger of the original.

A fun song to sing too.

New York City in miniature (WN0028)

The Sandpit from Sam O'Hare on Vimeo.

I stumbled across this little gem this morning, via a mailing list I'm on. The film depicts a day in the life of New York City, as seen in miniature, as was made by Sam O'Hare. I've come across the miniaturisation technique used in the film for photos before (known, I believe, as tilt shifting), but this is the first time I've seen it used for video. Nice work, Sam!

Ah, NYC, some day we shall make our acquaintance.

I was going to post a review of the previous decade on this blog, but the piece of writing has ended up being so long that I think it's better suited for the Collected Writings one. In editing stage at the moment, so hold tight - almost there.

Check out this site and this one to tilt shift (miniaturise) your own pictures. Go here for an interview with the filmmaker, who explains that this incredible technique was all done in post-production, and using time-lapsed stills.

Groove Armada – Black Light (2010)

It’s as if the last twenty years were a hideous nightmare – yes folks the eighties are back! This sixth album from Groove Armada picks up, with a little bit of help from Nick Littlemore, where Empire of the Sun left off; an exuberant plundering of the best bits of the ’sound that dare not speak its name’. Absolutely storming stuff from the London boys (and girl) and the ace in the hole – a guest appearance from the sultan of suave, Mr Bryan Ferry.