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So…

SoI do not believe that I have ever been – or could ever be – a party to a serious relationship with anyone who was not an admirer of the most excellent Mr Peter Gabriel. Those with whom I have shared such accord will undoubtedly testify to my continuing enthusiasm for the man and his works over an extended period.

The Kickass Canada Girl and I – naturally – established early on that we were mutual admirers, the chief difference between us being that whereas I have genuinely lost count of the number of times that I have seen Mr G perform live in the flesh, she had not – to the point at which we met – had that opportunity at all. In common with many other UK artists the Canadian leg of Mr G’s previous world tours had rarely extended further west than Montreal or Toronto. My worry was that – given that none of us is exactly young any more (Mr G being some four years older than I) – opportunities so to do might prove somewhat scarce.

So it was – back in the summer of 2007 – that the Girl and I found ourselves huddled close together under the pouring rain in the grounds of a stately home in Norfolk. We had trekked all the way up there to catch one of a small number of dates that Gabriel was playing as a warm-up to that year’s WOMAD festival, which itself was unfortunately coincidental with our being out of the country on holiday. Mr. G played a fine set of (mostly) older numbers which we enjoyed hugely – if somewhat damply – but I found myself regretting slightly that the Girl was not getting to see the full ‘show’.

We had the chance to see Mr G again in early 2010. This time he was touring in the wake of the release of his album of covers of other performers’ songs – ‘Scratch my Back’ – with a full orchestra instead of his usual band. Once again a splendid evening was had by all – but it still wasn’t quite the live PG performance by which I had been so captivated on previous occasions.

Finally – this year – came the news that, at the age of 63, Gabriel was touring once more – this time in celebration of the twenty fifth anniversary of the release of his biggest selling album – ‘So’. Gabriel was to be joined on the road by the members of the band that toured the album back in 1986/87 – David Rhodes, David Sancious, the excellent Manu Katché and of course the ever-present Mr Bass, Tony Levin! The show was to climax with ‘So’ performed in its entirety.

The tour reached London this week – sojourning for two nights at the in-feasibly remote ‘O2’ – and the Girl finally got to see what I had observed many times previously. She was suitably blown away!

Who knows how many more tours Mr G has in him? Given his incredible contribution to the arts (as well as to many humanitarian causes) through more than five decades I for one would not blame him for wanting to take life easy from now on. His voice – it must be said – sounds almost better than I have ever heard it, so it may be that he has no thoughts of retiring just yet. We can but hope!

Needless to say – should you ever get the chance to catch him live I most strongly urge you so to do.

 

Black tie

20131019_162714To the Ashmolean in Oxford yester-eve to attend a black tie function in support of the charity by which the Kickass Canada Girl is gainfully employed.

I feel sure that you can imagine the form that such events take. The great and the good are seduced by the notion of being lavishly entertained and wined and dined in some splendour whilst contemporaneously doing good service in a worthy cause. This latter comprises not only shelling out their hard-earned for tickets to said function, but also submitting to an evening of much persuasion – through raffles, auctions both silent and (surprisingly) noisy and blandishments plain and simple in an entirely justified attempt to pull in as much of the folding stuff as possible whilst keeping everyone in a good humour.

The particular focus of this event was the charitable service of which the Girl is the manager – which explains why we were both fully togged up and on our best behaviour. A short film extolling the good works of the service had been shot for the event – which presentation extensively featured the Girl herself. Impossible not to feel lump-in-the-throat proud of her. Not only does she look gorgeous on-screen (as in real-life of course!) but she comes over as a complete natural on film – speaking from the heart in a manner that carried the floor with ease.

‘Black tie’ means for me – of course – an opportunity to dig out the tartan. The kilt is a fantastically versatile garment and may be worn on every conceivably occasion. It can feature in many combinations from rugger shirt and boots all the way up to the full monty, which in this case comprised – in addition to the full 8 yard kilt itself – the Prince Charlie jacket and ‘weskit’, dress shirt and bow tie (always the real thing – never a ‘clip-on’… one could never show one’s face in a public school again…!), sealskin sporran, cream hose and garters, sgian-dubh and ghillie-brogues.

These days one is rarely asked – in good company – what one is wearing beneath one’s kilt. Should the question ever be directed at me I simply repeat the apocryphal anecdote of the Scots Guards officer in full dress who is approached at a function by a lady. She enquires – somewhat cheekily and ‘always having been curious to know’ – what is worn beneath the kilt? Comes the enigmatic reply:

“Nothing, ma’am. It’s all in perfect working order!”

The world turned upside down – 2

earth-upside-downYou must know that for those destined to dominate others the ordinary rules of life are turned upside down and duty acquires an entirely new meaning. Good and evil are carried off to a higher, different plane.

Pope Alexander VI to Lucrezia Borgia

I will be brief!

Chancellor Osbourne’s speech to the Tory party conference in the UK last week included one announcement that had not – contrary to what has somewhat sadly become widely accepted practice – been trailed to the media in advance. The gist of this statement was that – should the Tories be allowed another term in office – once the recovery had stabilised and the structural deficit been reduced the Tories would then focus on running a surplus on the nation’s budget.

This would appear at first glance to be a good thing. One should live within one’s means and it is – of course – good practice to put something aside during the ‘fat’ years to see us through the ‘lean’. What went unsaid was that this would of necessity be achieved by extending – apparently indefinitely – the current policy of austerity, with all that that implies as a brake on growth leading to the further erosion of living standards.

This bitter medicine – though difficult to swallow – might just be accepted as an essential part of the cure for our ills were it not for one glaring omission – one extremely large and utterly disregarded (by the Tories!) elephant in the room. This perpetual belt-tightening will clearly not apply to the Tories’ favoured sons – the one percent!

The bankers – the speculators – the masters of the universe… will all be free to carry on awarding themselves inflationary pay rises, exorbitant bonuses (apparently regardless of performance) and eye-watering severance packages. The stateless corporates will continue to play off nation against nation for their favours, effectively deciding for themselves what – if any – tax they will pay and to whom. Whilst the ‘ordinary’ man (and woman) must take in another notch in their belts and watch as their standard of living slowly dissolves – castles of sand washed away by the incoming tide – the rich aboard their hyper-yachts will simply sail off into the sunset, the income gap between us and them growing ever wider and wider as it has been doing since the 1970s.

I have never understood why it is that – whilst at one end of the spectrum workers are expected to ‘price’ themselves into a job – at the opposite extreme these ‘supermen’ – these Übermensch – are apparently incapable of carrying out the jobs (of which they have had their pick!) for which they are already extremely well paid unless they are further bribed so to do – for what are bonus and incentive schemes but bribery – plain and simple. I have nothing at all against those who enrich themselves through their honest toil and creativity – those who build something which is ultimately of the benefit to all. For far too many of the one percent – however – this is simply not the case.

These men must be truly exceptional to be rewarded as they are. They must indeed be exceptional to be feted so by those who represent us. They are also apparently exceptions to the rule by which the rest of us must live. I feel sure – however – that they will not give a fig that we take exception to them!

Which we do!

Flame off…

The world turned upside down – 1

World_upside_downThe modern conservative is engaged in one of man’s oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness.

John Kenneth Galbraith

Many of us in the UK breath a hearty sigh of relief at this point of the year – for the party conference season has finally shuddered to a close. Those of like vintage can probably just about recall when party conferences actually meant something – when policies were proposed, debated and then voted upon according to whichever greater or lesser degree of democratic process the party in question espoused. It wasn’t perfect. It was very rarely pretty – but at least there was a feeling that the entire farrago had some sort of purpose.

Nowadays these annual gatherings in corners of the kingdom seldom otherwise visited by many of those in or on the fringes of power, are merely tightly choreographed PR exercises, the prime function of which is to garner headlines in the media and to ‘get the message across’. It is a particular bugbear of mine (one of many, you may have noticed!) that ‘getting the message across’ is now considered to be of such import that it is apparently perfectly acceptable to patronise horribly those of us who make up the great unwashed – presumably on the basis that we possess between us no intelligence whatsoever!

We are unfortunate in the UK currently to suffer what is fundamentally a Tory administration. From the Kickass Canada Girl’s pithy epithets on perusing the news from home I deduce that Canada finds itself in a similar position. Now – for the Tories the ‘message’ that must be ‘got across’ is that the entire global financial meltdown – as well as the subsequent and ongoing international credit crisis – was caused solely by the profligacy of the last Labour administration. (Strangely the inverse now applies – any current woes being the fault of those beyond these shores).

Whereas I can just about understand the Tories holding this view – and indeed trying to make political capital therefrom – it is abundantly clear that every single member of the administration that has been given permission to communicate through the media has been briefed to ram this point home at every conceivable opportunity. As a result there is no question to which the answer is free from this mantra – the recitation of the same hackneyed dogma – an endless repetition of the same trite phrases, presumably in the belief that if a thing is said frequently and loudly enough the rest of us will eventually accept it as the truth.

COME ON!! – for pity’s sake… This is the way that a child ‘communicates’ when it wants something that it can’t have. Show us at least some respect!

Lest anyone – at this point – accuse me of getting ‘party political’ I should make it clear that I consider all parties and pretty well all politicians to be equally guilty in this regard. It comes as little surprise to me that the electorate is increasingly and justifiably disenchanted with those who purport to represent us. The Tories – being currently in power – must inevitably, however, be the prime recipients of our disapprobation.

Oh dear! What was intended to be a brief but pithy commentary on the Chancellor – George Osbourne’s – conference speech, has morphed instead into two less than temperate virtual diatribes. I really shouldn’t let these things get to me, but I do find these preening popinjays so very irritating…

The Harwood Arms

Harwood ArmsYesterday afternoon found me in the heart of the City of London at St Paul’s Cathedral. The occasion was the School’s annual Founder’s Day service. Long term readers might recall that I posted on the subject at around this time last year. Newcomers may care to catch up here.

As ever I took a moment to stand under the very centre of the dome and offered up a silent prayer of thanks. The significance – for those that must know – is elucidated here.

On which subject – the Kickass Canada Girl was herself in town yesterday – ‘hot-desking’ in the London office. Once my mission to the Cathedral had been accomplished I collected her from Pimlico and lead her away to the mysterious wilds of Fulham – whereat we were to dine in celebration the previous day’s anniversary. She did not know where we were dining (I can’t resist surprises!) and was thus somewhat taken aback when we plunged into the maze of residential streets that lie behind Fulham Broadway.

Our destination was the utterly splendid Harwood Arms. Once a regular street corner ‘pub’ and now belonging more properly to the increasingly ubiquitous ‘gastro-‘ variety (in many cases to be treated with deepest suspicion) the Harwood Arms is a genuine delight. The excellent atmosphere in the dinning room is considerably enhanced by the knowledgeable and personable staff – but the true star of the show is, quite rightly, the food itself. Head Chef Barry Fitzgerald knows how to cook meat – game in particular – and when one gleans that the Harwood is the only pub in London to have been awarded a Michelin star one gets an idea of what to expect.

I haven’t mentioned the wine list. I should! Even if you do not feel able to stretch to the Romanée-Conti Grands Échezeaux (and frankly, who can?) there is a wealth of other wines from around the globe from which to choose. We particularly enjoyed the ‘Ten Minutes by Tractor 10X’ Pinot Noir (from that other Victoria down under) which went especially well with my grouse. If – incidentally – you should find yourself fascinated the wine’s designation you can ascertain its origin here.

On the subject of grouse I was delighted to discover – subsequent to our visit – that those behind the Harwood have also established The Harwood Game Company from which one can order wild game online. I challenge the gentle reader to visit their site and not to come away with mouth watering!

Our server from last night told us that he has a sister (married to a Canadian… sound familiar?) who now resides in Vancouver. He and the Girl spent some time comparing notes about life there and the highlight of my evening (some ask given that the epicurean delights on offer had already set the bar pretty high) was listening to her describing how her father used to take her grouse shooting on the roads of British Columbia.

But enough of this… Look up the Harwood Arms here, book yourself a table and head to Fulham for a serious treat.

I guarantee that you won’t be disappointed!

What a diff’rence…

Photo by Joey Gannon from Pittsburgh, PA…a year makes!

(With apologies for Stanley Adams for taking a liberty with his English lyrics to María Grever‘s Spanish original).

On this very day a year ago I was doing my best – by means remote – to help celebrate the Kickass Canada Girl’s birthday. She was – the gentle reader may recall – still living and working in Victoria at the time and our celebrations were thus limited to those which might be effected by the good offices of the InterWebNet – and in particular those services rendered by Skype, eCards, Amazon (CA) and the most helpful website of my favourite haven of relaxation – the Brentwood Bay Resort and Spa.

Matters have been greatly facilitated this time round by us both actually living on the same continent! Our merrymaking will – as a consequence – be unrestrained.

I do send commiserations to our dear friends in BC who sadly don’t get to share the Girl’s birthday this year. I trust that our presence at the celebrations in Canada for Christmas and the New Year will go some way to make up for that loss.

I feel sure that all those who are regular readers – as well as those who are only occasionally so – would want to join me in in wishing the Girl a very happy birthday!

Hip, hip hurrah!!

 

‘Epic fail’

Photo courtesy photos-public-domain.comI do not much care for the recent InterWebNet ‘meme’ that goes by the soubriquet ‘Fail’, or even (apparently in extremis) – ‘Epic fail’. This – frankly bizarre – fad would seem to comprise the sourcing of images or video clips of others’ misfortunes or mistakes, the attaching of a caption – in bold capitals – proclaiming this to represent some brand of failure and then the posting of the result onto the InterWebNet.

Being of advancing years I don’t imagine that I would be expected to ‘get the point’, but I do have to say that I find the whole notion baffling. The nearest analogue that I can think of would be the suggestion that the pratfalls and banana-skin-slips so beloved of enthusiasts of physical comedy might somehow be rendered more funny by the gratuitous presence of a small child pointing a finger and pronouncing – “Ha, ha!”…

It would seem that – in this case – less in no longer more.

I can only imagine that the subtext of this strange behaviour is the implication that the poster is – by some inverse association – superior to the object of the ridicule; an attempt – it would seem – at establishing elevated status in circumstances in which there would otherwise be no connection.

I was moved to this reverie (…and I know that the gentle reader will have been wondering to what exactly this particular rant might be attributed) by the recent disclosure of an incident that would truly have been a failure on an epic scale – and which was apparently avoided by the smallest possible margin and by sheer good fortune.

I refer – of course – to the incident which took place on 23rd January 1961 in which a USAF B-52 Stratofortress carrying two Mark 39 nuclear bombs broke up in mid-air over Goldsboro, North Carolina – dropping its nuclear payload in the process. The arming sequence of one of the two devices was initiated as the bomb fell from the disintegrating aircraft and three out of four safety mechanisms were found subsequently to have failed. On impact the firing signal was sent to the nuclear core of the device and the sole reason that a detonation did not occur was that the single remaining safety system – a simple, dynamo-technology, low voltage switch – remained uncompromised.

Some sceptics claim that a nuclear explosion was never actually a possibility; others that the safety mechanisms as a whole clearly operated as they should have done. All I know is that the incident was just too close for comfort and that the disaster that was so narrowly averted would have changed the course of world history – not to mention the contours of the North Carolina coast.

Some rudimentary reading on the InterWebNet suggests (though it must be borne in mind that when it comes to national security none of the sources are entirely to be trusted!) that in early sixties there was indeed a brief window during which several incidents took place by which the world came within a whisker of calamity – the Goldsboro event simply being the closest call. For much of the first decade of the nuclear age bomber-carried nuclear devices were kept safe by the simple expedient of carrying some of the components separately until the last possible moment – final assembly of the devices being effected at the point of arming. By the early sixties this practice had changed – in response to the increasing complexities of the systems concerned and the time constraints imposed by the escalation of the Cold War – and the devices were fully sealed and armed electronically.

At the height of the Cold War the Strategic Air Command (SAC) kept a number of B-52s in the air at all times to counter the possibility of a Russian first strike catching the fleet on the ground. The dangers inherent in maintaining such an airborne presence with nuclear-armed craft became all too clear as a result of the chain of incidents to which I have already alluded. The Goldsboro mishap took place less than a month after the inauguration of John F Kennedy as president of the US and inquiries subsequently initiated by that administration lead ultimately to the extensive enhancement of nuclear safety procedures – including the implementation of launch codes to verify arming and firing sequences.

The advent of the Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile should thus – somewhat paradoxically – have made the world a safer place, though the later admission that the coded locks demanded for all Minutemen missiles by the then US Secretary of Defence – Robert McNamara – were subsequently set by the SAC to all zeros (00000000) so as not to hold up any prospective launch hardly inspires confidence. Those too young to have lived through this perilous era are encouraged – if they have not already done so – to grab a copy of Stanley Kubrick’s ‘Dr Strangelove‘ – which biting satire still surely goes a long way towards ensuring that the defensive strategy of Mutually Assured Destruction will ultimately be regarded as the lunatic gamble that it undoubtedly was.

With the ending of the Cold War the immediate threat has – of course – somewhat diminished, though this should not blind us to the fact that there yet exist in the world in excess of 17,000 nuclear warheads of various types.

Given mankind’s propensity for hubris perhaps this fact alone might legitimately be accorded the tag – ‘Epic fail’!

Two ton

Photo by Leo Reynolds on FlickrTime – perhaps – for a slightly muted celebration. ‘Two cheers’, one might say… this being – as it happens – the two hundredth post on this blog.

The one hundredth such was posted a mere day or so less than a year ago which means that I am averaging – even by my rudimentary mathematical calculations – very nearly two posts a week. I am quietly rather proud of this record and certainly would not have expected to have been able to maintain it when I started out some twenty months ago.

It is my hope that some of what I have written will come in useful for those contemplating the move from the UK to Canada – though of course progress on my own project in this regard has (through circumstances beyond our control) been pitiful of late.  Hopefully some of my postings on Long Distance Relationships have provided some encouragement to those of you obliged to live in like manner.

Much of what I write originates simply from the things that move me, the things that interest me and even from the things that irritate me. Sometimes my prolixity has been excessive – and for that I beg your indulgence. Mayhap my meanderings on occasion might have appeared aimless – mere frivolities. Well – life seems to me to be made in roughly equal measure of the meaningful and of the meaningless – and it is my whim to celebrate them both the same.

To that end I raise an (ever-present) glass (in need of a top-up, since you ask!) and tak’ a wee dram to make a toast:

Here’s to all those that I love
Here’s to all those that love me.
And here’s to all those that love those that I love,
And all those that love those that love me.

Techno ceilidh and acid croft!

Photo by Dave Connor on FlickrShould the rubric to this post make you start asudden – anxious lest you might all unknowingly have ingested some strange hallucinogenic compound which has set your pulse a-racing, your nerves a-jangling and which leaves you wondering if kaleidoscopically hued chameleons might start suddenly to emanate from the light fittings…

…rest easy – gentle reader – relax!

Maybe even – as the au courant slang would have it – ‘chillax’! (Though I find that particular neologism strangely vexing!).

No matter. Bear with me and I will elucidate…

In the course of my occasional series of posts on the subject of seeking out new musics – both here and in Canada – I have previously waxed lyrical on the subject of Celtic fusion. The background to this particular fascination may be revisited here. That particular post extols the talented Paul Mounsey, whose music fuses the influences of his Scottish roots with those of his Brazilian wife.

A couple of weeks ago the Kickass Canada Girl and I were to be found basking somewhat unexpectedly in the sunshine at Twickenham – where we were attending the double-headed fixture that these days launches the Premiership rugby season in the UK. The first of the two games saw London Irish pitched against the Saracens, and the pre-match atmosphere was stoked to a frenzy in part by the splendidly thunderous ‘Irish’ music that was cranked out over the stadium’s PA. At these levels, and with sufficient clarity, such music really can stir the blood and set the pulse racing – not to mention tugging teasingly at the heart-strings of any true Celt.

I wanted, naturally, to know what tune – and by what band – had been responsible for this thrilling elevation of the spirits. As ever the InterWebNet provided the answer – though not without some considerable efforts on my part. The piece concerned turned out to be an instrumental version of I’m Shipping up to Boston by the splendidly named Dropkick Murphys. Their original version sets to music lyrics by Woody Guthrie and features on the soundtrack to Scorsese’s (frankly disappointing) The Departed. The instrumental is apparently widely used as ‘run-out’ music in sporting circles – which comes as little surprise.

Now – the Dropkick Murphys turn out to be American (from Quincy, Massachusetts) rather than Irish – and that itself turns out to be something of a theme once one starts to look for modern Celtic music. The scene in Canada and North America seems to be every bit as vibrant as does that in the home nations.

Further listening suggests that the Murphys – in reality a Celtic Punk band – are a little rough around the edges for my taste, but I am grateful nonetheless that this aural experience has re-invigorated my quest to boldly seek out new musical life forms (well – new to me, anyway!).

Enter the Haggis! No – really… that’s the name adopted by the next ensemble that I encountered in the course of my musical meanderings. Sure enough, they hail from Canada! Their Celtic tinged rock incorporates a wide range of influences and styles and I particularly like some of the tracks on their last two CDs – Whitelake and The Modest Revolution. Here is a taster:

Year of the Rat: Year of the Rat – Sample

It was not, however, until I followed the trail back to Scotland – to Edinburgh, to be precise – that I found what I was really looking for. Please allow me to introduce to you – the inventors of Techno Ceilidh and of Acid Croft (which latter has been described as ‘a fiery and infectious blend of Celtic traditional music and dance grooves that band members like to call “hypno-folkadelic ambient trad!”) – the one and only – Shooglenifty!

What I like about this particular fusion – apart from the infectious rhythms and evocative melodies – is the sheer breadth of influence that the band draws upon to create their unique and adventurous music.

Look – that’s quite enough chat from me… Do your ears (and feet!) a favour and have a listen to these samples. Crank it up!

McConnell’s Rant: McConnell’s Rant – Sample
The Eccentric: The Eccentric – Sample
Walter Douglas MBE: Walter Douglas MBE – Sample