Sportsthoughts (9) – a big weekend

Posted on January 23, 2012 by John S

It was a big weekend for the football and the rugby, this weekend.  In the rugger it was the last round of group games in the Heineken Cup – who would qualify for the quarter finals? In the footie, Sky had lined up two big Manchester v North London games, four of the top five.

Things started with Quins away to Connacht in the west of Ireland.  Galway, a wonderful part of the world. But Quins needed to win, if only to qualify for the quarter finals as a best placed runner up.  Toulouse were in pole position in the group. Away to Gloucester in the last game. We assumed Quins and Toulouse would win and it would then be down to how the other second placed teams would do. Wrong! Toulouse lost and there were still five minutes of the Quins game to go, in which they were losing 8-9.  To Connacht, the weakest team in the group. I didn’t see see the game.  I had to work late, had it recorded to enjoy the victory.  Wrong! Not sure what went wrong.  Wet and windy wouldn’t have helped the running game, but the Quins should still have been strong enough. Didn’t happen, and that was that.  Just one of those days. I didn’t bother watching it.

So we came second and drop into the Amlin Cup.  That at least keeps some interest going. And we are the holders, so we can say we now need to defend the cup.  That’s something.  Quarter final away to Toulon in the south of France.  April. Very tempting….

I watched one game live over the weekend.  Northampton vs Munster. What a game! The intensity was something else.  The collisions frightening.  The running play exhilarating.  The kicking by both fly halves – Ronan O’Gara (Munster) and Ryan Lamb (Northants)  outstanding. For the first two thirds of the game it was evenly matched.  Northampton’s forwards were dominant at the scrum and won two penalty tries. But everywhere else Munster were calling the shots. It worked and in the end they pulled away, scored some great tries and won 51-36. Just one of the best games.

The Irish – Leinster, Munster, Ulster – look supreme at the moment. The best players in Ireland are concentrated in a few teams and are leavened by a few southern hemisphere stars.  The club game in England doesn’t allow the same concentration, and in the Heineken, we are beginning to suffer. Saracens are the only team through to the quarters, though Quins should have made it two.  That wasn’t structural, it was just a cock-up.

Today was a “Super Sunday” in the football.  First up, Man City vs Tottenham, then Arsenal vs Man Utd.

I got a few chores out of the way and settled down for the second half of the City game. 0-0, so I hadn’t missed too much. Perfect timing, because it all went crazy in the second half. City went 2-0 up, then Spurs got it back to 2-2. Silva was brilliant, as ever, for City, slicing the ball through the Spurs defence to set Nasri up for the first City goal.  One to stick in the Tottenham craw, with Nasri being ex-Arsenal. But even better than Silva was Gareth Bale, for Tottenham. Not only did he score a with a superb, instinctive strike from  just outside the box, but he terrorised Micah Richards down the left flank, and put over a series of crosses which were just asking to be tapped in. Right at the end Defoe, just failed to get on the end of one of them.  A sitter, really. Can’t feel too sorry for Defoe – to me the traitor Defoe, the man who once put in a transfer request the day West Ham got relegated. Bitter, bitter!

And as happens in football, Tottenham having failed to get the winner, City went up the other end and got a penalty.  Balotelli, brought down by Ledley King. Fair enough, definitely a pen. But Balotelli shouldn’t have been on the pitch, having stamped on Scott Parker’s head, after a collision. He was lucky it wasn’t some fancy dan who would have done a roll across the pitch, holding his head in agony. Scotty P would never do that – hard man, team player, the man who single-handedly almost kept West Ham up last season. And won the journalists’ player of the year award. Lucky Balotelli. He took the penalty, casual, precise, scored.  3-2 City.  Injustice.

And then Arsenal, nervous, fraught Arsenal.  Fifth and looking like they might miss the Champions League next year. Doing well in the CL this year, though.  Maybe best to concentrate on the here and now? Not possible in today’s media/ social networking world. Everything is hyped, and so Arsenal are in crisis mode. Can they continue with the existing model, bringing through youth, only to find now that other clubs will snap up the very best players – Fabregas, Nasri, and whoever is next?

Today they had their moments, but Utd exposed their frailties and sneaked it 2-1.  As ever, it was the defence, and the midfield guard in front of them, that was most defective.   But nothing really worked well.  The short passing was there, but it was too slow, never really putting Utd under pressure. Oh Cesc, where are you?!

The best player on the Arsenal team was Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, 18 years old, built like a brick wall, and skilful and fast with it. He was involved in all of Arsenal’s best moves. Wenger took him off with 15 minutes to go and put on Arshevin.  The boos from the crowd were extraordinary. The TV pictures showed Robin van Persie shouting “No!”. Has there ever been such an insurrection in Wenger’s time? Whatever happened to Arsene knows? And Utd’s second goal came from Valencia striding past Arshavin, just to make matters worse.

So I think there is now an existential crisis at Arsenal.  (In football terms – it’s not life and death). The whole footballing and business model is under stress.  The fans are turning against Wenger. It’s like a Shakespearean tragedy – Othello, King Lear, Hamlet. You know it’s going to go belly up.  The protagonist is resisting fate, but you know it is futile.  There is dark comedy in the meantime – Arsenal’s defence, anyone? – and you just wait for the denouement.

It is going to happen.  Arsene will leave. One of the greatest managers. Creator of the best football ever seen in this country. Entirely a force for good.  Hounded out by the impatient and the ignorant – and the nostalgic. I’d have him as England manager any day. Working with top class players. Playing the game as it should be played. We could win something.

And as a postscript, we are Top League! West Ham scratched another victory, 2-1 against struggling Nottingham Forest, and went top of the Championship as Southampton aren’t playing until Monday. They are playing Leicester – a tough game.  If they draw or lose, we stay top. Looking at all the tweets on Twitter, the hard core fans aren’t happy with the style.  But we are top. Same as Quins.  Stay there boys!

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Histories of…..

Posted on January 21, 2012 by John S

I’ve just started reading an epic book, “The History Of Christianity”, by Diarmaid (Dermott?) MacCulloch. It’s going to take me a long time. It’s 1016 pages long and the print is very small! Now that I am both short sighted AND long sighted (I used to think this wasn’t possible, that somehow they’d cancel each other out) this means that I can read it best without my glasses, but as my main reading opportunity is on the tube home from work, I’m not keen to be oblivious to my surroundings – especially when the iPod makes me half-oblivious already.  But I digress… I’m already engrossed and I’m only on page 97.  We’ve done Greek philosophy, Alexander the Great, the Egyptians, Babylon, the trials and tribulations of the Jewish people, the Romans, and Jesus has just been crucified and resurrected. Wow! And only page 97. Paul of Tarsus is next.

I love these big histories.  You only get a superficial insight into any particular moment, but, especially if you know a bit about some of the subjects already (which I do, sometimes) you can just luxuriate in the narrative, see how events, looking back, flow into each other, hang together. The big picture. And there are always so many things you just didn’t know before. New knowledge, new connections – this is the sort of thing that gets my brain tingling. Learning. Inspiration.

Diarmaid MacCulloch writes beautifully and wittily. Already, only on page 97, I would say to anyone, buy this book! And read it. (Buying is the easy bit, I know from past experience).   Anyone who is curious about how the stories, the history, of the Old Testament as well as the New, were written, and how this small Jewish sect came to dominate Western culture and philosophy from such unpromising beginnings, will love it.

Well, on the basis of the first 97 pages I say that. I hope the next 919 bear me out!

I’ve read a few other histories like this in the past.  One, by the historian J.M.Thomas, had the grandest title possible: “The History Of The World”. It covered some of the same ground as MacCulloch’s book of course, as the West has dominated history over the last few centuries (though for how much longer?).  It was an amazing story. The sense of a journey jumps out, excites, depresses at times (there is so much brutality, so much evil as well as good). It provides clues, no, more than that, it explains how we got to where we are today. We are the products of our past and if we ignore that, we blunder into the future without vision or strategy, making all the same horrible mistakes again.

Another that led me into pastures new was “The History Of Western Philosphy” by the great scholar, writer, polemicist, and lots of other things, Bertrand Russell. Now, I studied philosophy at university for a year, along with politics and economics.  It was so limited. This was at Oxford in the late seventies.  We worked on two papers for first year exams.  One had to be logic.  I hated it.  It was like maths.  I didn’t want to do maths! It had right and wrong answers.  I preferred ambiguity, the acceptance that there is more than one answer to most problems. We then had a choice between Utilitarianism (Bentham, Mill) and David Hume. Only one of the two.  I chose the former, but at a time when I had no idea about either. I scraped through the exam at the end of the year and dropped the subject as we were allowed to focus on only two subjects from the P, P and E  for the last two years. What a shame, I now think, because as I explored what the study of philosophy had to offer, after I learned about a wider range of philosphers, I knew that I would never have given it up.

Russell’s book gave me that superficial knowledge of so many of history’s great thinkers. Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Kant, Spinoza, Hegel, Schopenhauer. And all the others.  And like all the other histories I’d read, it gave me the opportunity to make connections, understand the flows from one to another, link the thoughts to wider history and politics… and science.  Soon after, I read a wonderful autobiography by the philospher Bryan Magee.  It was a combination of his life and an explanation of philosophical thought.  The two, in his life, were inextricably linked. But the insight was at the start, when he described how as a child he’d look up at the stars and wonder how they all got there.  How, when he shut his eyes, and all was black, how could he be sure that anything was still there. And many more such questions. The questions that all children ask are the questions that philosophers seek to illuminate.  I say illuminate, because I’m not sure anyone has actually answered them. They’ve tried, but for every theory, there is a counter-argument.  Religion seeks to nail down the debate, but only by delegating the really difficult stuff to God.  The human mind, or enough human minds, find that unsatisfactory.  So we continue to challenge, explore, and slowly but surely advance our understanding of the world we live in.

Phew! That’s what happens to me when I read these books.  From time to time it sends me scurrying for more information, deeper knowledge.  But there is so little time, when you play your part as a father, husband, friend, colleague, signed up member of the human race. And they are the things that matter most, that provide meaning to life.  But the big questions are worth a ponder from time to time, and histories give me a vehicle.

Wish me luck on the next 919 pages. I’ll be solving the meaning of life as I go along. Especially if there is a glass of Chardonnay by my side!

Just one more waffeur Monsieur!….

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Have You Heard? – (8) “This City Never Sleeps” by the Eurythmics

Posted on January 20, 2012 by John S

“You can hear the sound of the underground train, though it feels like distant thunder…”

I made a playlist and put it on CD for a couple of people close to me at Christmas which I called “Night”. It was a selection that was mellow but not bland. Music that could move you in the early hours, relax you but also intrigue you. Music that lives with you.

First track on the playlist was “This City Never Sleeps” by the Eurythmics. I’d kind of forgotten the Eurythmics until recently, when I was writing about electronic music in the early eighties. So I dug out my vinyl, and they were all there, loads, six or seven Eurythmics albums. Must have liked them.  Somehow, with the passage of time, they faded from my memory. But as soon as I put on the records, it came flooding back.  The first album, “Sweet Dreams (Are made Of This)” was an electronic masterpiece and the title track was a big hit. I recalled that with each album – except “1984”- they became even more popular as they mastered the mainstream, teamed up with greats like Aretha Franklin, became part of the rock establishment. Of course as this ascent continued I became less interested. The early stuff was the best for me.

And “This City Never Sleeps” was the track I was drawn to.  One to file in atmospheric. It conjures up so many images of London at night. The dark rainy streets, the lonely underground platform as you wait for the last train, the rumble of the tube beneath your house, which I remember from days living in Pimlico, the silent streets as you walk home after a late night, with no transport to get you back.

London life.

Even today, as a family man, there are times, rare times, when I have a choice about how I get home and if it’s not too far away, I like nothing better than donning the iPod, putting on some favourite tunes and walking the streets of this wonderful city. It’s fair to say that when I decide to do such a thing, I have usually had a bit to drink. It inspires! I love to listen to Pink Floyd at such a time: “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”, “Wish You Were Here”. And “This City Never Sleeps” by the Eurythmics,  because it is a perfect accompaniment on such a journey. It is London.

There is especially something about the bass line that entrances me.  It is simple but deep, and I find myself imagining how this song, driven by that bass line, could have a brilliant dub reggae remix.  I think to myself, one day, one day…

This was a fairly obscure track on that first album, although I’ve just realised, looking for a version on Youtube, that it featured in the classic eighties film, “9 1/2 Weeks”. I was a bit disappointed to be reminded of that, because it disturbed my own pristine memories. But only briefly. It is London’s song. Not some yuppie US soft porn thing. But then again, it shows how a song with so much atmosphere can work for so many different purposes.

Of course I must include a Youtube link so you can hear what I am  writing about. But it is a song that is all in the head.  The sound of late night London, whatever that means to you, if you live in London. And if you don’t, then whatever those bass lines and swooping guitars and Annie Lennox’s voice mean to you. This video sums that up perfectly – it’s not the band, but it’s what it conjures up for the person who made the effort to post this.

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Have You Heard? – (7) She’s Lost Control” by Joy Division

Posted on January 18, 2012 by John S

Writing about Joy Division tonight for my book on music, I found this video during what passes for research! Two great tracks, “Transmission” first, but at 3.13 is the one I wanted to write about: “She’s Lost Control”. An extraordinary, rather disturbing performance. The bass lines that lead the melody are brilliant, the studied guitar riff as chorus I love. The snappy drum beat. But above all, Ian Curtis the singer is gripping in his glazed intensity. Anyone who has seen the film “Control” will know the context – tragic.

And if you haven’t seen the film, I recommend it highly.  Incredibly moving – and inspiring. You don’t have to be a Joy Division fan to get it.

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St James’s Park, a sunny autumn day

Posted on January 15, 2012 by John S

On 21 November last year, 2011, I was walking back from a meeting along Birdcage Walk, which edges St James’s Park in the centre of London.  At one end of the park lies Buckingham Palace, at the other the corridors of power: 10 Downing Street, the Cabinet Office, the Treasury and the Foreign Office. It is said to be the park where spies meet, and we know that recently it was where a minister dumped his unwanted correspondence. It is most definitely a place where tourists love to stroll and office workers come to eat their lunchtime sandwiches and ready meals, away from the confines of their open plan offices, the tyranny of their computers. In the summer they will also come to sunbathe, as they also do in nearby Green Park. Me, I avoid that at lunch time as you get back to the office too relaxed, a bit hot, lethargic.   Need to stay sharp.

But the park is also very beautiful, an absolute jewel in London’s crown.  I never tire of the place – so serene amid the bustle, the lake and its bridge the centre piece, with wonderful views of the buildings in the distance, including the London Eye, which peeks out above the government buildings to one end. The grey geese which live there give the place a certain dignity as well. When I watch them I can’t help but think of the dinosaurs from whom they may have been descended. The pelicans attract the tourists, but I think it is the geese that give the park its avian identity.

Anyway, I was walking back on 21 November, with the sun blazing, a beautiful autumn day.  I looked around and was entranced by the colours, the colours of autumn. Here, right in the middle of our great city. So I took out the iPhone and took a few shots.  Not all of the best resolution, but I hope it gives the impression of the beauty of that day, the autumnal London basking in unseasonal sunshine.

(Double click on any photo and you get full size).

Starting with Birdcage Walk itself, some autumn flowers, a statue and the obligatory squirrel shot.

Take it to the bridge!

Into the sun.

The colours, the colours!

The two ends. Mirror images.

Whomping willow? (I’m not even sure if this is a willow, but it should be).

The Palace.

More extraordinary hues.

And those descendants of the dinosaurs…

I’ve been working in or around Westminster for the past twenty years (frightening!). I’ve been in love with St James’s Park from the very first day. It is an affair which will never end…

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Have You Heard? – (6) The Worldwide sound of Gilles Peterson

Posted on January 13, 2012 by John S

I like a lot of different kinds of music. It can confuse people – how can you possibly like Metallica and, I dunno, Joni Mitchell?  How can you reconcile  Bruce Springsteen with Underworld? The Clash with Alicia Keys? Kate Bush with The Pixies? Burning Spear with Budgie? Ed Sheeran with Far East Movement (two of my 2011 favourites – see my list). Oasis with Blur (90s battle reference!). Random choices for illustration.  The answer is, very easily, I just love music, all kinds of music.

And one of the types of music I love most is hard to categorise. It’s a whole potpourri of sounds: jazz-dance-soul-world-funk-reggae-rap-electronica, all mixed up, feeding off each other, but all distinguished by having the groove.

The DJ Gilles Peterson, for me, captures this music on the radio better than anyone else.  He has been doing so for many, many years. I admire his passion, his knowledge, his joy in sharing what he knows with all of us. At the moment he has a show on BBC Radio 1 in midweek at 2am. Not exactly mainstream.  But with the i-player you can listen to it when you want. Every time I listen I hear so many songs which cry out, download me! And often I do.

I think all these sounds really began to come together in the eighties and nineties.  That was the era when barriers truly began to break down, when technology allowed artists to borrow from wherever they wanted, when listeners were exposed to more sounds than ever before.  The nineties in particular saw new fusions.  Jazz and rap made perfect partners – the likes of Guru, from Gang Starr, Stetasonic and Dream Warriors to the fore.  The accelerated beats of rave and jungle collided with reggae and jazz.  The compilation series “Rebirth of Cool”, which continued for eight volumes, I think, encapsulated this fusion better than anything for me.  I’d buy each new volume eagerly anticipating the discoveries I would make. They would always lead me on to new sounds, new fusions.  There were many other examples, and you could guarantee that Gilles Peterson was in there somewhere. As well as his radio shows, he has brought out so many brilliant CD compilations over the years: the “Worldwide” series, ventures into Brazil, journeys back to sixties jazz in London, the “Brownswood Bubblers” in recent times. An amazing mix of sounds, full of soul, sometimes spaced out, always on the beat.

So I’ve come to think of the genre – if it isn’t too varied to be a genre – as the Worldwide sound, the Gilles Peterson sound. Here are just a few of the tracks I’ve loved in recent times, which I’ve discovered in one way or another through the good offices of Gilles Peterson.

(A warning: a friend at work a few years ago who was mostly into country rock described this kind of music as “jazz w – – k”. The average metallist might think so too.  But I love it all, and the worldwide groove has probably been on my stereo, and now the iMac and iPod, more than anything).

The first here is a jazzy rap tune called “PJ’s” featuring Raekwon.  I love that mid tempo rap groove, and that Morricone sound effect that breaks out from time to time.

This next one is  a Brazilian groove called “Meninho” by Patricia Marx, which is just made for dancing. I’ve got it on a “Gilles Peterson in Brazil” compilation.

I first came across Joy Orbison on an NME Radar on-line selection, but this track, called “Wet Look”, is very much a Gilles Peterson thing too. Avant-electro.

Roots Manuva is maybe the greatest British rapper.  Here, on “Again and Again”, he mixes up the sound with a serious reggae beat.  This one actually has a proper video.  Is it cricket?

This one is space music, pure ambience. “Space Hammock” by Carlos y Gaby. That is all I know. But it infiltrates and engulfs you.

And just to show the roots of this worldwide groove, here’s a jazz-funky thing from Roy Ayers, seventies style.  “We Live In Brooklyn Baby”.  How cool is that title? Worldwide music is also, in many ways, New York music.

Just the tip of the coolest iceberg.  Check out Gilles on the i-player for more every week.

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Sportsthoughts (8) – festive football madness

Posted on January 9, 2012 by John S

Back to work, finally, tomorrow. Dumped the Christmas tree today.  The festive season is truly over. As ever, the footie went a bit bonkers over the festive season. Is it the sprouts or a heavy-lying Christmas pud that turns some of our top Premier League stars into plonkers and conversely inspires the journeymen to greater deeds?

My festive viewing started just before Christmas with Tottenham v Chelsea.  A great game, end to end stuff, Tottenham the more incisive first half, but Chelsea very solid second half and could have won it. Bale’s pace and cross for Spurs’ goal was superb. On Chelsea’s left Ashley Cole played a blinder – up and down the wing – and deservedly got man of the match.  Chelsea were almost playing a 3-4-3 as Cole bombed forward. I feel sympathetic to Chelsea as I like AVB and think he could eventually turn them into an excellent attacking team, if he gets the chance.  Mind you, the wobbles then hit them over Christmas.  1-1 v Fulham and losing at home 3-1 to Villa. There’s a fragility there at the moment which it’s hard to see the fans, or Abramovich, tolerating for too long.  Non-qualification for the Champions League? Maybe they’ll just have to win it this season.

Both the Manchesters had their dodgy moments too.  City suddenly looked vulnerable, having lost to 2-1 Chelsea on 12 December. 0-0 v West Brom and a 1-0 defeat against Sunderland.  The latter revived and inspired by Martin O’Neill, but even so, not what you’d expect of the petro-elite. I watched the home game against Liverpool, which City won 3-0.  Another enjoyable game with plenty of goalmouth incident. Liverpool must be kicking themselves because they were the better team in the first half, but without Suarez, lacked that final touch in front of goal.  And both City goals slipped by the usually reliable Pepe Reina. In the second half they ran out of steam and couldn’t even capitalise on the Gareth Barry red card. City regrouped and Yaya Toure continued to maraude, winning the penalty for 3-0. He is an immense player, the beating heart of City, and it will be very interesting to see how they cope without him during the African Nations Cup.

Utd don’t look great, but the stats say this is one of their best ever starts. Have standards fallen?  Or even risen, so it is harder to dominate? What Man U have done for much of this season is slaughter the lesser teams – Wigan, Fulham, Wolves and QPR have all been tonked in the last month, the first two by five. But even they hit the skids over Christmas.  First, losing at home to Blackburn – Blackburn! –  3-2.  Then given a 3-0 going over by Newcastle at what must now be called the SportsDirect Arena. The highpoint for ABMU fans was the Phil Jones own goal to make it 3-0.  Hope it doesn’t set him back because he is a very fine prospect for Utd and England.

I had mixed feelings about seeing Demba Ba in such fine form. Good to see him thriving in the Premier League, but wishing West Ham could have kept him. We could do with him now.  I’m pleased to see Alan Pardew doing well.  I thought he was a good manager at West Ham – came undone through some domestic issues and an inability to integrate Tevez and Mascherano in those wild days when we briefly thought the Icelandic biscuit magnates were going to take us to the top. I still can’t believe that Hayden Mullins was keeping Mascherano out of the team! No disrespect to Hayden – he was a solid player – but Mascherano was/is one of the world’s best defensive midfielders.

So we’ve had all the Man Utd crisis stories – a grand tradition around this time of year, after which they usually put the foot on the accelerator and more likely than not win the league.  Why should this season be any different?  The emergence of City as contenders?  Maybe, but I have a feeling that City will crack under the pressure. Just a feeling.  They are City, after all.

And then my own Premier favourites, the Ars-en-al. Their usual dotty selves. A couple of routine 1-0 wins and then blowing it: 1-1 at home to Wolves, 1-2 at Fulham. As ever, dominating games, failing to take chances. Four points thrown away. Refs blamed, luck bemoaned.  Just something missing.  It’s fingers crossed for a top four place, expectations lowered. The return of Thierry Henry for a couple of months is a nice story, but can he make a difference?  How much pace has he got left?  We shall see.

Tottenham move serenely on, a couple of draws, but generally in good shape.  Hard to imagine them winning the league, but it’s not out of the question if the key players – Bale, Parker, Modric, van der Vaart – stay fit. Would be great to see ‘Arry take the title before moving on to the England job – as long as his tax affairs don’t wind him up with a criminal record.

And Liverpool?  Solid, but not ready yet.  The Suarez affair will hurt them, and they haven’t helped themselves.  Misguided loyalty or a principled stand?  I’m sticking to the football.  The most striking image in the game versus City was Andy Carroll lumbering around, disconnected from the rest of the team, who were playing short, sharp football. He should have stayed at Newcastle and learned his trade. It’s hard to see him adapting to the fluid style that Liverpool now favour. He’ll get his chance while Suarez is out, but has he got what it takes?  I must admit that a year ago I really thought he was the future for England’s forward line, Rooney feeding off his knock downs; but he seems to have gone backwards.  Maybe there’s a fitness issue we don’t know about. But we read that he’s always going back to Newcastle, to see family and friends. Bears out the suspicion that it was a move too soon.  Fingers crossed for the lad – he can’t half head the ball when on song.

And talking of big men up front, pleased to see Peter Crouch thriving at Stoke.  He scored two quite outstanding goals in the 2-1 victory away to Blackburn – subtle technique, powerful finishing. Ball skills that Carroll hasn’t acquired yet. Still worth a place in the England squad?

Down in the Championship, everyone played badly at times, West Ham as poor as anyone.  But we scraped a couple of 1-0 victories and find ourselves second to Southampton with the same points. Huge Twitter speculation about all the players we are going to buy – Jordan Rhodes of Huddersfield the people’s choice having knocked in five the other day –  but where will the money come from?  And a few underachievers, especially in the strike force (only in name, not in deed) must be sold. The worry is that good young players may be tempted away.  It worried me that James Tomkins, our centre back, stayed on the bench today, in the lamentable 1-0 FA Cup defeat to Sheffield Wednesday, who are currently in League One. Was this to prevent him being cup-tied?

And talking of the “magical” FA Cup, what a game today between Man City and Utd.  The latter running out 3-2 winners after Vincent Kompany was sent of for what initially looked like a two footed lunge, but was actually a perfectly good one-footed challenge which got the ball.  Easy to say after seeing the replays.  Does make you wonder why the ref can’t refer quickly to a video ref if he’s not sure, as in rugby.  Radio Five Live’s 606 programme tonight was almost exclusively about the refereeing decision. Mostly lambasting Chris Foy the ref.  Some discussion of whether contact is necessary for there to be a foul. Great things, rules.  No-one really has a clue, even when they are there in black and white. For the conspiracy theorists, I thought it was interesting that Fergie gave Foy a little pat on the back at the end of the game.  Thanks for that mate.  Won us the game and maybe the league too, if Kompany is suspended for four games (after a second straight red this season). Especially while Yaya is away. But then again, wouldn’t anyone do the same?

Funniest moment of the festive period, if not Phil Jones’s clanger, must be Everton keeper, Tim Howard’s  goal for Everton against Bolton.  One bounce before the ball, heavily wind-assisted, sailed over Adam Bogdan, the Bolton keeper’s head. Howard didn’t want to celebrate: doing that to a fellow goalie hurts. Bolton had the last laugh anyway, winning 2-1.

So the wacky goings-on over the frantic festive season keep things nice and open for the next five months. Who needs a winter break?

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Gerhard Richter at the Tate Modern

Posted on January 6, 2012 by John S

On 23 December, the Friday, I had a half day, and amazingly I had for once done all my Christmas shopping. So I headed to the Tate Modern to have another look at the Gerhard Richter exhibition.  I’d been there before, raced around, been amused by the war planes and the “grey period” (which was very grey – in fact nothing but grey) and loved the bright anarchy of some of the abstracts. I’d thought, very German.  Serious and absurd at the same time.  A bit like listening to Kraftwerk. But I felt that I should give it more, immerse myself and try to understand.

What follows are my reflections on the journey through the exhibition second time around.  Headphones on to help me understand where he was coming from, but most importantly, plenty of time to absorb and interpret – and feel.  I took notes on my iPad as I went through through the gallery – how modern is that? – and this is what I found.

There’s a theme, especially at the start, of the clash between the figurative and the abstract. Richter paints real objects, often from photographs, and then distorts them.  The most blatant is his table, which is obscured by a whirl of grey – the application of solvent I believe. It seems like wanton destruction of the painting, but enough remains to match the faithful and the vandalistic.

We move on to some eerie representations of the second world war. From photos, Richter paints the bombers that destroyed his home city of Dresden. The British and the Americans both get a look in. Then he portrays relatives who had a Nazi past.  His Uncle Rudi in military coat, his Aunt Marianne holding him as a baby. They are all blurred somewhat – murky, imprecise.  Representing the vagueness with which the memories were still held. These pictures were painted in the sixties and confronted a past that people didn’t want to confront. That is the bravery of art.  The picture before you doesn’t tell the whole story.

Richter was very taken with the French cubist painter Duchamp, who declared the end of art, or something like that. Of course it never ends – you see it everywhere.  Go into any secondary school and look at the fantastic work that the pupils are producing and then say art is finished.  Never! But anyway, Richter’s response was some hazy works that paid tribute to Duchamp.  His wife, Ema, descending a staircase, nude.  Two couples,  smiling, disintegrating. It made me think of the Velvet Underground, musically. Heroin, European Son. Vague, disorientating.

Then there were some panes of glass… which were panes of glass.  Which you could rearrange (well, if you were the curator). So they would look different each time. OK, I liked the audacity, but they were still just panes of glass. I like the explanations though.  It’s art, maan…

The first of the blocks of colour was next. Just 192 this time. Fascinating. A simple concept- the juxtaposition of the colours available in the paintshop. Your eyes wonder over the whole, checking, blurring, wandering.  For Richter it was about everyday life, but he took it further – see later.

In stark contrast with the colours were a series of paintings of townscapes, again from photographs.  They were again in greys and blacks and whites and looked like the towns and cities had been flattened. As far as I understand that wasn’t the original intention, but Richter himself agreed later that that was what they looked like.  Subliminal?  The war again?

And now into the grey period!  Lots of canvasses which were very grey.  The end of art? The era of depression? The victory of the factory, the motorway? Der Autobahn? When you have such a blank, spare canvass, it’s up to your imagination.  There are textures, crenellations, but essentially they are just grey. My children would say: I could do that. They are just grey. But just being grey says all sorts of things.  Depression, hopelessness, inertness, impersonality.  These, I imagine, were the emotions, or non-emotions, that Richter was trying to convey. The end of art. But in fact not the end, because so much is left to the imagination.

Then we had the ultimate in colour configuration. 4096 squares. Three primary colours and grey. Built, multiplied ,mixed, re-ordered, replicated. A really fascinating canvass that plays tricks with the eye, invites you to see patterns and outbursts, endlessly intriguing. One of the highlights. And so basic. The story of colour.

It was then time for the abstracts.  The blurb tells us that this was a time of happiness in Richter’s life.  A new relationship.  Colours, excitement, the banishment of grey. Hurrah to that! It began with some distorted photo works – strange flowers and artefacts.  Pinks and greens.  But then my favourite room. A set of paintings which were just really bright – greens, yellows, slashes of red, wedges of blue. They appealed to my primal sense. Lovely, exciting colours.  I didn’t care what they were about. On close inspection, I could see the intricacies of the painting, the early use of the squeegie, layers upon layers of paint. Some then scratched away, supplanted.  A riot. Fantastic. At times I thought I was seeing an underwater scenario, with weird fishes – cue Radiohead. Or a wild summer scene. There was so much left to the imagination in the swirl of colours and shapes. And on the end wall a vast mirror. Just there. Reflecting back on you. Altering your perspective, adding a touch of self-consciousness. Brilliant.

In later rooms the abstracts became denser, darker. More use of the squeegee.  A sense of dark forest and the shafts of orange and white light disturbing the sullen hue. A sense of reflections on the surface of a morbid lake.  Foreboding, claustrophobic.  OK, I was letting my imagination run riot here, but that is the glory of the abstract.  It sets you up for some real speculation if you are ready to to play the game.

There were a series of eight small abstracts in a row, the last a different shape to the rest, which intrigued. They invited you to see a flow from one to the next.  Again, giving you, the viewer, the power to invent a story, concoct a dream.  In the middle paintings there were shards of colour, scraped from the surface to reveal the underlying paint that looked like flying drones in an Iain M Banks sci-fi novel, carving their way through the atmosphere of a gas giant. That was where I was going as I re-examined the paintings.

Elsewhere there were more specific items.  A series of grey, blurred paintings depicted the Baader-Meinhof gang in prison. They were 1970s terrorists in Germany, or freedom fighters, depending on your take. There was an ambiguity, verging on sympathy, for the gang, many of whom died in custody, in the hazy grey paintings.

Richter also took the works of classical artists and delivered a modern depiction. In this exhibition there was a blurred take on a Titian painting about the annunciation.  And a copy of a Vermeer in which a young woman read a book under a bright light.  And there was a stark, beautifully-lit portrayal of his daughter with her back turned, in a red dress.

Towards the end there were paintings of 9/11, hugely blurred, inexplicit, no flames or thunder, but just a scraping of colour which might have been a plane. Mysterious, confusing. The dust cloud rather than the explosion. As ever, obscuring, but also leaving everything to the viewer’s imagination. Chilling.

Aside from the main exhibition there was a “Cage Room”. A whole series of  wild abstracts on huge canvasses. Apparently painted while listening to the abstract music of John Cage. That seemed right. Richter’s painting, with its blurred images, abstraction, gloom and ambivalence, conjured up for me the sounds of the Velvet Underground, Bowie in Berlin, early Roxy Music, Kraftwerk.  Lost and found.  Hopeless and yet with space for the imagination and colour and even celebration.  Glorying in the decadence and the rock’n’roll.

Gerhard Richter would probably be shocked at the the thought, but his art rocked!

In a very abstract way…

The paintings in this blog are taken from a Gerhard Richter art site. There are loads more paintings, but not everything that was in the exhibition.

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England’s green and pleasant land – Yarpole, Herefordshire

Posted on January 5, 2012 by John S

Spent the new year with family and friends in Yarpole, Herefordshire. A lovely part of the world, a few miles south of Ludlow, Shropshire, and north of Leominster (pronounced Lem-ster). Herefordshire and Shropshire don’t attract the attention of the West Country or the Peak District, say, but they are equally beautiful.  That classic English country scenery: the rolling hills, in various blends of green, maybe some purple-brown heather, to offset the verdant hues.  In winter I love the skeletons of the leafless trees, unceasingly intricate. Set against the sun they form awesome silhouettes in photographs. Nature as art.

This part of the world is somewhat forgotten territory, but in the Middle Ages it was of strategic importance as battles ebbed and flowed.  The Norman invasion, the conquering of Wales, later the English civil war. I picked up snippets of history as we went on walks and visited towns and villages. The area is known as Mortimer country – and a National Trust trail with the same name weaves its way through the hills and woodland. The Mortimers were Norman warriors originally.  Like so much of our countryside, there are roots going back to at least the 11th century. In the civil war of the 17th century the local gentry, the Crofts, owners of nearby Croft Castle,  sided with King Charles.  Lost!

We walked through the woods around Croft castle up to the Mortimer trail one day. The trail weaves in and out of the woods and at one point goes along a ridge overlooking the lower ground.   I loved the views – as the title of this piece says, this is England’s green and pleasant land, even if they were carving each other up in the battle of Mortimer’s Cross in 1641! One of the shots here shows a quarry, still working.  A blight on the landscape or just another feature of the living countryside? I prefer the latter.

Yarpole village is, like most settlements, a mixture of the pretty and the mundane. I’ve  two shots below of those lovely beamed exteriors that feature heavily in this area; but there were just as many modern and rather nondescript bungalows.  People have to to live.

The church features a separate bell tower that dates back to the 12th century. The church is very much the centre of the local community.  It houses a shop, selling a bit of everything, including some local produce. There is a post office too.  It is run by volunteers. So you don’t have to run off to Tesco in Ludlow all the time. A little piece of the so-called Big Society.

One day we went for a walk around Wigmore, a few miles from Yarpole.  The blurb in the map of a circular walk told us that the town used to be a major centre in the Middle Ages. There was a strategically important castle, guarding the Welsh border. It was part of the Mortimer family’s centre of power. In the 14th century they relocated to Ludlow castle and Wigmore entered a slow decline.  The blurb, rather poignantly, marks the loss of the magistrates court in 1970, as the final nail in the coffin for any regional influence. It made me think about the symbolic importance of courts even when they hardly do anything. Inevitably, over the past few years, many have closed, and many more will, all in the name of efficiency and tax payers’ money. But each time there is a closure, something departs from the spirit of a community, never to be restored.

After an enjoyable pub lunch, we launched into the surrounding hills. The peacefulness was punctuated by the sound of gunshot.  It echoed through the valleys – it almost sounded like missiles being fired. Pheasants were the quarry. Eventually we had to give up the circular walk and double back, as our route would have taken us into the firing line.  We glimpsed a bit of the action.  A man with a large orange flag disturbed the birds and the shooting began.  We saw one pheasant escape, gliding like an arrow into a cabbage field near us. Some of of our kids were spooked by this and wanted to turn back as quickly as possible. This sort of thing doesn’t happen in Ealing! Mind you, we did have a riot last summer.

Brutal, but part of country life, I guess.  And I enjoyed some very nice pheasant from a butchers in Ludlow, perhaps the best I have ever tasted.  So I will not complain!

I like the shot of synchronised yomping below. All at the same angle.

I just like the magnificence of this tree, Lord of the manor.

Can’t resist the shots into the sun for some dramatic skies and silhouettes.

The trees almost seem to dance. In the background of the photo on the right are a whole load of coops. We wondered whether they were chickens or maybe pheasants, bred for shooting.  No idea whether that happens. But it felt possible that day.

The detail of this gnarled tree is exquisite – I think.

A moody sky and the trees in mid ground seem brushed somehow – maybe by the wind.

A half moon lurked in the daylight, about half past three. A counterpoint to the tree’s naked branches.

Nature as art, again and again.

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Sportsthoughts (7) – well done Cav!

Posted on December 24, 2011 by John S

I was pleased to see Mark Cavendish win BBC Sports Personality of the year yesterday. I even voted for him. He has been an outstanding athlete for many years, in one of the toughest of sports. Cycling is something that Britain is actually very good at – witness all the golds at the last Olympics.  Getting tickets for the events at the 2012 Olympics was well nigh impossible. Chris Hoy got a knighthood. But still the recognition in previous years of Sports Personality was lower than it should have been, especially for the road racing, as opposed to the indoor events.

The Tour de France must be the ultimate sporting test. A month of cycling around 150-200km a day. Sometimes reasonably flat routes, but other times up the most tortuous mountains imaginable.  Going up a hill in Ealing is hard enough.  Doing it over miles and miles, and then descending at high speed, where any miscalculation leads to a hideous crash, has to be one of the most demanding sporting challenges.

I love the Tour de France.  I love it for the challenge, the atmosphere, for the team work and for the beauty and variety of the French landscapes. It is a fantastic annual advert for the wonders of France.  And yet, in the UK, it is shown only on digital channels: ITV 4 and Eurosport. What a waste!

Mark Cavendish has been the supreme sprinter for a while, but it was only this year that he won the green jersey for the overall points winner, which should reward the person who wins the most stages of the competition.  Except, in previous years it didn’t, as there were all sorts of intermediate sprints during stages that racked up the points when no-one except the experts even noticed. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why the Tour is still exiled on ITV4 and Eurosport. Same applies to King of the Mountains, owner of the spotted jersey.  How can that be anyone other than the overall winner, as you cannot win the Tour without being the best in the mountains? It is always won or lost there. But it is always someone else who gets to wear the polka dots.

Anyway, the rules were tweaked this year, and Cav, with five stage wins, won the green jersey.  It is a wonder to watch him and his team, HTC Highroad, dominate the stages for the sprinters.  They work as a team, cycling in line, near the front, moving steadily forward, Cavendish cruising near the rear of the team formation, keeping the pace, readying himself.  Gradually they move to the head of the race, marshalled by Bernhard Eisel. Different riders hit the front and then near to the finish, the fast man, Mark Renshaw,  makes a burst, stretching the field.  Cav goes with him and then, like a slingshot releasing its ammunition, he shoots forward, devastating.  Others attempt to go with him, but usually it is futile. He wins again.  He takes the glory, but really, as he always acknowledges, it is a fantastic team effort.

The Highroad website has some good photos of the experience.

The Tour is endlessly fascinating.  Most days there will be a break by two or three riders.  They shoot off and build up quite a lead.  The peleton, the mass of riders, stay calm, riding at the required pace, protecting the stars. And then, as the race draws to a close, they creep up, inexorably, and the breakaway riders fall back and are consumed, before the real battle for supremacy begins.  The only exception to this is in the Alpine and Pyrenean stages, when the top riders may break away and establish the leads that win the top places in the grand Tour – the overall classification.

And those mountain stages are what make Mark Cavendish a true sports personality of the year. He’s a sprinter, a roadrunner.  But for five or six stages of the Tour, he has to go up and down the most incredibly difficult mountain stages.  He just has to survive, to live to fight another day.  It’s like asking Usain Bolt to slip in a couple of 10,000 km races in between his 100m heats and the final. How would he perform then?

Yes, the Tour has been besmirched by drugs over the years, though to be honest, it is hardly surprising, given the endurance required of the riders. Winning the Tour de France, the yellow jersey, I think, may be the ultimate sporting achievement.  Hopefully Bradley Wiggins may do it one day – sadly, this year, he came down in one of the many crashes and had to retire with a dislocated shoulder. Winning the green jersey is the next best thing and seeing Mark Cavendish do it this year was undoubtedly my highlight of the sporting year – notwithstanding my joy at seeing Harlequins win the Amlin Cup in Cardiff.

Cav has now joined Team Sky. Who knows, maybe he and Bradley could make it a clean sweep at the Tour before going on to Olympic glory. Fingers crossed!

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