Song for Sunday

R.E.M. Glasgow Barrowlands May 24, 1989. Think I still have the ticket somewhere. They played this song, almost exactly as it's done here. Still gives me goosebumps ...

reach out for me/and hold me tight/hold that memory ...

I was studying at Edinburgh University and the concert was days before our end of second year exams. Did we think twice? No chance. They were also playing in Edinburgh, but I am pretty sure it was at the Usher Hall, so there was never really any doubt that we would be going through to Glasgow ...

5am wake-up a few months before to get near the front of the queue at Ripping (Rip-off) Records on South Bridge. Sold-out that day ...

Support was the Blue Aeroplanes, who played like they knew this was there one big shot at stardom. Then R.E.M. came on. And it is still the best gig I have ever seen (I will post the full top ten sometime soon). Michael Stipe had the black eye make-up same as here, but he also had the word CAT written on his forehead. We found out later that he had been sick as a dog last time they played in Glasgow ...

This song was one of my favourites from the album and it was absolutely amazing live. I remember reading an interview with Michael Stipe around this time and, if I remember correctly, he noted that it was the pivotal song on Green, a way into the album and a key to unlock the all the other songs. Sounds like something we would have discussed endlessly on the trip over in our late-teenage earnestness ...

Last encore was a beautiful rendition of Perfect Circle, which Mr Stipe claimed was only the 36th time they had played that song live. Bet that didn't happen in Edinburgh ...

Where do typesetters go on holiday?

Gill Sands!

The always interesting Strange Maps reprises the story of one of my all time favourite hoaxes accompanied by a scan of the original map.

Song for Sunday

Still the best band ever to come out of East Kilbride ...

Everyman's Rules for Scientific Living

I wasn't sure about this novel when I started reading, but it had been on my to-read pile for over a year and I needed something that would contrast the bleakness of Riddley Walker. Not that this was the gentle rural tale I was half-expecting.

The sense of place and atmosphere is beautifully conjured, the story is compelling and the period detail is superbly woven in ... But for me it still seemed too slight, the characters not fully rounded and their actions too opaque for me to believe in them. There are moments when it all jelled perfectly (like the passages about Jean's dad), but for the most part there just seemed to be too much of the story missing, just out of reach; as if some crucial parts had been scattered by the torrid winds blasting across the Mallee.

Riddley Walker

'Intensely ponderable.' So says one of the review quotes on the back cover. That's for sure.

Narrated by Riddley in an imagined dialect, set in a post-nuclear holocaust distant future, it demands full concentration and rewards it with a stunning evocation of a world returned to the dark ages. The language is amazing and I constantly found myself re-reading paragraphs, puzzling out the meanings and turning over the implications. It isn't like Trainspotting where your brain suddenly clicks into the dialect and you suddenly know exactly what Renton is talking about, but Riddley's voice still works its way into your head and you begin to piece together the meanings and build up a picture of the myths and history.

I have always been fascinated by books set in post-apocalyptic futures (something to do with growing up at the height of the Cold War) and this is one the best. Other favourites would include The Road, The Drowned World and In the Country of Last Things.

Song for Sunday

Alasdair Gray

In Australia the National Trust administers a list of 100 Australian Living Treasures. It is a slightly strange honour (and a number of the current living treasures are deceased) and an interesting mixture of personalities, but does recognise many important figures that the nation should, well, treasure.

If Scotland ever decides to adopt a similar scheme, then Alasdair Gray will surely be on the list.

As Alasdair himself notes he is 'a hard-working, happily married, sometimes short of money, occasionally drunk* old writer'. His biographer, Rodge Glass, fleshes out this description and memorably sums up his writing with the observation that 'the quality of Alasdair's output is limited by his need to pre-empt criticism, and bring socialism and Scottish nationalism into everything' he writes.

Rodge's biography sounds wonderful (review in Saturday's Grauniad), but with a subject like Alasdair it would be difficult for it not to be ...

*I can vouch for the authenticity of this observation, having worked at a certain UK chain bookseller when Michael Jackson's (not that Michael Jackson!) book about whisky was launched with a tasting session in the Assembly Rooms. Alasdair was enthusiastic about the tasting and at the end of a jovial evening had to be helped (i.e. carried) to a waiting taxi.

Slicing the Silence

Slicing the Silence is one of the best books I have read about Antarctica.

The main chapters are interleaved with diary entries from a voyage Tom Griffiths took to Antarctica in the summer of 2002-03 on the Polar Bird, a supply ship for the Australian Antarctic Division.

Presented as a history of human encounters with Antarctica, he covers a lot of ground between Cook's expeditions to the Southern Ocean in the latter half of the eighteenth century all the way to the current scientific programs and burgeoning tourist industry. As an Australian historian traveling to an Australian base many of his stories have a different perspective to those I have encountered before.

The early expeditions of what he calls the 'heroic era' will be familiar to most readers, but it is an excellent introduction to anyone who doesn't know the stories of the likes of Scott, Amundsen, Shackleton and Mawson. However Griffiths has also uncovered a lot of less well-known, but no-less fascinating characters like Robert Cushman Murphy – a young curator from the Brooklyn Museum of Natural History – who was so desperate to see penguins that he voyaged south on a whaling boat.

Griffiths is also particularly good on the absurdities of the flag planting and territorial claims that followed this initial exploration. But where the book became totally absorbing for me was when we entered the post-War era and Cold War geopolitics started to impinge on Antarctic exploration and science. This is a story that I haven't heard before and fills in the gap between the early explorers and the late twentieth century which are both covered extensively in many other places. (Edwin Mickleburgh's excellent Beyond the Frozen Sea does touch on this, but doesn't fill in the detail as well as Griffith does.)

Also fascinating is his history of the Australian researchers, base personnel and the bases themselves and how – in the 1980s – science and research suffered as the lions share of the ANARE budget was spent on building and maintaining the bases.

Finishing with the story of Captain Scott's biscuit he returns to the heroic age and seems to be suggesting that the most important lessons from man's experience of Antarctica still come from this time.

Song for Sunday

Nearer than Heaven ...



Also lots of good things here. Including songs from the new album which I didn't even know had been released ...

Mellow Johnny rides again?

Intriguing announcement this week from Lance Armstrong about his planned comeback to professional cycling next season. The video on his website is short on detail, but the one definite piece of information is that his return to racing is linked to the launch of an international cancer strategy.

I will be interested to see how he might make this work in practice – I feel that he could accomplish much the same thing with his current influence and through his existing foundation. How racing the 2009 Tour de France could add much to this is not clear to me.

If he wants to raise awareness of why cancer rates have increased so drastically in western, developed countries and to try and tackle the multi-national food and chemical industries then great. I am totally behind him. If it is going to be a international marketing opportunity for some large pharmaceutical company that's different.

If you were being cynical you could say he misses being the centre of attention or the camaraderie of the pro-cycling team or feels unfulfilled with his current role as bike-shop owner and cancer activist.

So is the motivation personal or does he genuinely have more altruistic goals? His contributions to cycling and the fight against cancer are undeniable and immense, and I have always loved watching him race, so at the moment I will give him the benefit of the doubt. We'll see come September 24 ...

And of course the big question is: could he win an eighth Tour at the age of 37? Logically I feel that the three years he has been retired will make it almost impossible to get back to the level required in ten months. But I also know that Lance does his homework and he won't be lining-up next July unless there is a good probability of winning.

Song for Sunday

Thanks to Kate for the movie recommendation. With bonus Spanish subtitles ...

Addition

I have fallen a bit behind on the book reviews lately – there is a large teetering pile of books near the computer, but high up out of range of small hands ...

So, in an effort to catch-up I will try to write brief comments about some of the more notable recent titles. First up Addition by Toni Jordan. Very enjoyable, even if not totally believable depiction of mental illness (Grace is a compulsive counter, hence the title), which reads like it was written as a film script (not necessarily a bad thing in this case).

It is compulsively readable, a bit like a Melburnian Kate Atkinson, but has plenty of wit and intelligence and is hilariously funny in places. It is a first novel and it will be interesting to see what direction she takes in future novels.

Song for Sunday

RiP Delgados. Long live Emma.

(Paper and Glue is also excellent ...)

Song for Sunday

Whew. Original video is even better, but sadly can't be embedded ...

The Sun Smells too Loud

Hurray! Mogwai have a new album coming out in September! And if the advance free MP3 from their American record label is anything to go by it is going to be great. As pootly1 says it sounds like they have fallen in love. All of them. About two days before they went into the recording studio ...

And once you have downloaded that have a listen to Everything that Happens will Happen Today David Byrne and Brian Eno ...

Song for Sunday

make a cup of tea, put a record on ...



More mid-90s Britpop next week, but if you can't wait that long try this.

Song(s) for Sunday

Apologies for the less than perfect sound. If it bothers you try the second clip below ...

Seven sucks

Anyone reading from Australia will already know what the title refers to, but for everyone else Seven is one of the three commercial television stations. And they suck ...

Sorry to sound like a petulant teenager. They don't suck particularly more than either of the two other commercial channels – they do show Grey's Anatomy (which Pootly1 likes) and Better Homes and Gardens (which is obviously the essential companion to the first glass of red wine on a Friday evening).

As the official Australian Olympic broadcaster you would think that they would actually be interested in showing the games. Not that there was much on, only the first day of the athletics and the track cycling. Not to mention a few swimming races ...

But no, far more important than the greatest sporting event in the world is Collingood versus Port Adelaide. AFL. Can you believe it? I know people in Melbourne think that the footy is a matter of life and death. (Or more likely share the great Bill Shankly's sentiments when he said 'Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.' Different football code, and Bill did have a point, but anyway.) Thinking about it financially, this obviously means that the ratings (and hence advertising revenue) for AFL must be better than the Olympics. At least in Victoria. What a depressing thought.

And, just to make matters even worse, the 'complementary Olympic Broadcaster' SBS couldn't show any of the good Olympic stuff, because Seven was showing it in those parts of the country that don't think the world revolves around marks, behinds and bounces.*

Oh well, at least it spared us the agony of watching Australia miss out on a medal in the men's team sprint by 0.008 of a second ...

*technical AFL terms.

Song for Sunday

An oldie, but a goodie. Reminds of a holiday in Lanzarote ...

Song for Sunday

On a Tuesday ...



Low life of the party. Enjoy.

Song for Sunday

In defence of Cadel

Boring ... wheel-sucker ... never attacks ... most unworthy winner ever (if he wins). There are a lot of people who don't rate Cadel.

I still think he is the best rider in the race and will be pulling on the the yellow jersey later tonight.

The way he rides to his strengths reminds me a lot of Miquel Indurain. I doubt Cadel will manage five wins, but if you think back to the flack that Big Mig used to get for blowing everyone away in the time trial and then sitting on wheels in the mountains it is quite uncanny.

In my opinion a lot of the negative publicity is purely down to the number of journalists covering the race and looking for any small piece of controversy. Sure, Serge the bodyguard is a bit over the top and his tantrum after the crash didn't show him in the best light. There is also the annoying whiny voice ...

But, you have to admit that has shown himself to be a pretty interesting and complex character. On the bike he looks confident and in control even when losing time. Off the bike he seems less sure of himself and more nervous. And, even though it often seems to be about so much more, the beauty of The Tour is that the best bike-rider is always the man in yellow on the Champs Élysées.

The Alp

Last night I made the tactical decision to go to bed once the race leaders crested the Cime de la Bonnette-Restefond, gaining an extra 20 minutes sleep and assuming that nothing much would happen on the run-in to Jausiers:

• Menchov loses 35 seconds on the descent (he must be glad that today is an uphill finish)
• John-Lee Augustyn goes from likely stage winner to lucky to be finishing in one mis-judged corner
• And Cadel Evans headbutts a cameraman

Hmmm. I feel almost as silly as Felix Lowe must be feeling today ...

I won't be making the same mistake tonight. By the time the stage finishes atop Alpe d'Huez it should be much clearer who will be in yellow on Sunday night. If Cadel can stick with Frank and Bernhard then he will likely be the first Australian to win, if he loses less than a minute or two he will probably still be OK, more than that and it will be one of the others in the top 5.

One of my favourite items of clothing when I was younger was a t-shirt from Bourg d'Oisans at the foot of Alpe d'Huez. I can't remember what the image was, but it was a white t-shirt with bright green text and drawing.

New books

For some reason getting books in the mail is far more exciting than going into a shop and buying them. Maybe the delay heightens the anticipation and whets the appetite. Maybe the extra expense means that only truly interesting titles get the privilege. Or perhaps in this case it is the knowledge that I couldn't just go into a shop and purchase them off the shelf.

Both of these look great. I haven't read anything by either author before, but hope that they might become new favourites. I have read a review and some poetry by Kathleen Jamie in The London Review of Books and am embarrassed that I hadn't found her books before know. From the same school of Scottish writing as Andrew Greig (who she seems to have had a bit of thing going on with ...) and treading a similar path to Robert MacFarlane's The Wild Places how could it not be brilliant?

Sputnik Caledonia is about a young boy who wants to become Scotland's first cosmonaut. For someone who was born the year that Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, just missed the excitement of the space-race, but grew up with visions of rockets and space travel this is an irresistible premise for a novel.

Song for Sunday

One of my all time favourites. From one of my favourite bands.

Rain falls likes Elvis' tears ...