Archive for the ‘Music’ category

Big Brotha

June 23, 2007

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 ‘Afternoon, honkies.

Hope you’re all well today. I wonder whether you might help me to resolve a confusion that has arisen in my mind of late. It’s been festering for quite a while. Not quite keeping me up at night or anything, but festering nonetheless.

I’m sure you’re not watching Big Brother at the moment. I’m not either. I used to be quite into it, back in its fifth iteration, but the novelty (such as it still retained on the 5th time around the track) has now vanished entirely. There’s something about watching roomfuls of people shouting at the same time that just doesn’t do it for me anymore. Which is sad, in a way.

Anyway, just because I’m not tuning in anymore doesn’t mean that I won’t give my tuppence worth when events in the BB house leak over into the news. Which they did, you will recall. Said events happened some time ago now, but are as yet unaddressed ‘Logueswise.

Before we begin in earnest, an experiment. I’d like you to think of the most offensive word you can. Got it? Don’t tell me what it is. Probably best not to say it out loud at all, actually.

As you grew up, you’ll have noticed that swear-words are arranged in an unspoken hierarchy. To the chagrin of the devout, religious swear-words tend to be quite near the bottom. Scatalogical ones come next, followed by the sexual ones at the top of the heap. The structure of this hierarchy has always intrigued me. Give a group of people some swear-words, and they’ll usually rank them in a similar order of offensiveness (seriously, try it) but how did this ever come to pass? Who decides what’s offensive and what isn’t? Let’s think (as I’m sure we all do) about a certain enjoyable interpersonal activity. Why should one word for it be OK, whilst the use of another would lead to a swift ejection from any polite gathering?

The most offensive word I can think of is an anatomical reference. This anatomical portion, in itself, is not offensive (to me). Nor are the four letters that make up the word. I use them all the time. However, there is just something about seeing them altogether in the correct order that seems puts the wind up folks. Maybe that’s why people in Scunthorpe have a chip on their shoulder. When I was growing up, my friend told me that this word could never be broadcast on television, in any circumstances. I’m not sure where he was getting his information from, but it was clearly false.

Anyway, let’s get to the point. You’ll recall that a certain word passed the lips of art student and Big Brother contestant Emily Parr. The word was considered so offensive that not only did the addressees need to reflect upon the exchange into the wee hours, but poor old (racist?) Emily was booted out.

I think we all know the word I’m talking about here. That’s right. En eye gee gee ee argh.

Personally, I was surprised by the reaction that this utterance provoked. The sheer level of offence was staggering. I know that Big Brother has been known to turn a blind eye to the odd bit of racism in the past, and is obviously wanting to be seen as taking a firm stance now. But was all the furore justified? This is where I’m confused, and would welcome your thoughts. 

This word is everywhere. Watch Pulp Fiction. It is used by both black and white characters, to refer to both black and white characters. It is used to address people, and in conversation about people. I just choose this film as an example, as I’m sure there are loads of others. What about Amazing Grace? Can a word like this be used if it is being used in a historical context? I don’t see people campaigning for either film to be pulled from the shelves.

The same goes for music: isn’t this term common currency in certain genres such as rap? I was having a little look at The African American Registry, in which I found an interesting article about the history of this word. It talks about the increasing popularity of the word amongst young, urban black people, who use it as a pally way to greet each other (apparently). I seem to recall it popping up in a Michael Jackson song at some point in his extensive, accomplished canon. Is it OK for Michael to say it because he’s black? Of course, he’d be the first one to claim that it don’t matter if you’re black or white. Not if you’re thinking about being his baby, that is.

Let’s be clear: I don’t have very strong views about this. I have no particular urge to be allowed to use the word, in the same way that I don’t really wish to make regular use of words like quadragintesimal or galactophagist. They are of no use to me. But I do wonder:

If this word is so offensive, how can it be allowed to appear in films, music and books, but not on Big Brother? And does it stop being offensive when it is used by a black person to greet a black friend, or a white person to greet a white friend? If so, would it be OK for a white person to use it to greet a black friend? I wouldn’t mind if a black friend used it to address me, although I do not presume to speak for all those of paler complexion.

Sorry for the ramble. Best just not say it at all until we get all this sorted out.

All Night Long

April 5, 2007

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Greetings. Just reporting back on an excellent evening spent in the company of Mrs H and one L Richie.

Now, stop your tittering. It was excellent. The man has such an infectious enthusiasm for his music, that it is really difficult not to get involved. He exudes charisma and charm, and has quite a natty red silk shirt, I thought.

The concert was in SECC in Glasgow, just next to that Armadillo wotsit. Mrs H and I bumbled up several hours early (just in case) and had the chance to explore the vicinity. Despite the impressive venue, the surroundings offer very little. The whole place had the feel of a post-apocalyptic wasteland, albeit one containing an enormous stainless-steel placental.

There were rumours of a Harry Ramsden’s nearby, but it turned out that it was actually inside the auditorium, and could not be accessed until the show began. Bizarre. In the end, we settled for the gallery bistro across the way. The young lady who welcomed us looked a bit harrassed that we hadn’t booked, but after a quick glance around the deserted seating area, said she might just about squeeze us in.

The show itself was tremendous. Mrs H and I found ourselves happily ensconsed amongst the rotund middle-aged, and had a whale of a time. This really is music to make you happy. Some will decry its quality, sure, but from where I was standing you’d be hard pressed to top it. Sure beats all those morose guitar bands, anyway. And the inter-song banter was great as well – somewhere between The Two Ronnies and Mr Bean.

On a completely separate note, it’s been nice to see the resurrection of a certain one-time blogger. It’s good to have you back. Having seen the effect of a little persuasion, I thought that I would throw a couple of subliminal elements into this post in order to coax another blogger back out of the woodwork. I promise I’ve not forgotten about you.

Jazz Revisited

March 26, 2007

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I was having a trawl through the archives the other day, and spotted an early post in which I conveyed a relative indifference to Jazz music. In retrospect, I think I threw a few babies out with the bathwater. For this reason, and because the Music category is a bit thin on the ground, I thought I’d write a post about this choicest of genres.

There are probably two posts in here, the first of which will be devoted to a tour of my top five Jazz albums. Of the seven that I own. In reverse order:

5. Maynard Ferguson: This is Jazz

It’s not really an album, so it probably shouldn’t register at all. However, as a compilation it cuts a good path through some of the better tunes. The proper albums tend to have the odd stinker here and there, but this is more-or-less sound. He’s a trumpet player, and a real squealer at that, but can be diverting enough if you value athletics over aesthetics. This album is one of only two products about which I’ve felt moved to write a review on Amazon UK. It still stands to this day, and its gushing illiteracy remains a source of acute, toe-curling embarrassment.

4. Colin Steele: Twilight Dreams

In our pre-marital days, Mrs H and I went to listen to Mr Steele over a warm beer at the Byre Theatre, St Andrews. Highly recommended for his accessible, Scots-infused style. Apparently, he lives on Leith Walk. I’ve never seen him out and about down that way. Unlike Shirley Henderson (Trainspotting, Harry Potter, Bridget Jones) who always seems to be there.

3. Lee Morgan: The Sidewinder

I once played in a band at university. When I joined, the tenor saxophone player took me to one side and said ‘play like this’, thrusting a copy of The Sidewinder into my hand. I’ve only just procured my own copy, but it seems excellent.

2. John Coltrane: Blue Train

First lent to me by a neighbour, I sat through this unimpressed as a youngster. I now know that the necessary jazz frameworks were not yet in place in my underdeveloped brain. Now that the groundwork’s been done, this one sits very nicely indeed. If you can overlook all the ludicrous railroad metaphors in the liner notes. “Trane rides swiftly down a lonesome track with Lee and Curtis shoveling extra coal into the boiler near the end of his solo”. Come off it, chaps.

1. Herbie Hancock: Cantaloupe Island

During one lazy jaunt to Dundee during student days, I found myself leaving the Wellgate Virgin clutching Withnail and I, Apocalyspse Now, and Cantaloupe Island. The latter has been a slow burner for me: immediately unremarkable, but a grower. Probably responsible for the development of the jazz frameworks (above). Notable for the title tune, as well as the well-known Watermelon Man. Understated, laid back, and highly recommended.

Gosh, I’ve gone on a bit. Sorry about that.

On Inserting a Picture

December 19, 2006

OK, so that post seems to have worked. I’m trying to add in a picture now. If it works, you should see a charming likeness of Pelumi, who was staying at the weekend. We enjoyed a little musical messabout too, and he was most tolerant of my clumsy pop chords muddying up his subtle, elegant riffs.

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