unpopular

Wow, totally spooky… so there I am, just slipped a couple of fanzines in an envelope for Gail, stamped the envelope, stacked it on the pile of mail, and what comes on the stereo from my randomly playing iTunes? Yes, ‘Chickfactor’!! REALLY!! This is too spooky for words. I mean there are fifteen thousand songs currently in my library, and it picks that one, at this precise moment. Talk about synchronicity.

Sounds great, incidentally…

Alternatively, I could just spend four days sleeping and reading Ed McBain novels. Which is exactly what I have done…

There is something rather pleasant about being curled up on the sofa, huddled under a duvet, feeling faintly sorry for yourself. It’s been a year since I was last ill, and that’s pretty good going for me. For most of my life I’ve been blighted by colds and flu and what all have you, and could count on at least two or three bouts a year. Since I stopped drinking, however, it’s been a lot less. Ditto the giving up dairy produce… and even today, though I feel kind of lousy, it’s all nowhere near as bad as colds of yore. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this day on the sofa will zap the bugs and that I can get back to school tomorrow. Or maybe Wednesday… it doesn’t pay to rush these things after all, does it? Plus this gives me a chance to browse around for some surrealism and photomontage websites and pull together a scheme of work for the photography course. And since we’re getting inspected at the end of April, it’s probably a good idea to have something concrete in place. I don’t imagine any OFSTED inspector being particularly impressed upon hearing that all of the planning for the course is safely stored in my head… no siree.

Went to St Ives yesterday. Some Art, some sunshine, some walking on beaches, some taking photos and chilling. The Tate hangings were okay, although the Karl Weschke left me mostly cold. Too much brown… and I really don’t like brown. The Grayson Perry pots were quite pretty but overall underwhelming and a bit obvious, which is maybe why he won the Turner Prize, obviousness being so in vogue. Actually, maybe it always has been. I don’t know. I do know I looked at his pots and thought, uh, okay, Robert Rauschenberg on pots. And… a dress. I think the kids will love them when we all go down for our weekend away in a couple of weeks, or at least they’ll love the one with Kurt on it. And the sweary words. They’ll like the sweary words and they’ll want to know if they can use sweary words on their own work, and the answer will be, sigh, if you can convince me the work will be less successful without it, then of course. I will not add that convincing me of this will be a monumental task.

It was nice to see Ged Quinn’s paintings. I’d only seen a very small one in Nick’s house previously, and been intrigued by the juxtaposition of classic, referential painterly style and contemporary commentary. I think the one we saw in Nick’s house had a prison or a concentration camp within the idyllic 18th Century landscape painting, and there are similar references in the ones currently hanging in the Tate. As C pointed out, it too is all a bit obvious maybe, but it’s an intriguing obviousness, not least because there is a heavy leaning on the craft of painting. I liked them, and not just because I know they are by someone who was once in the Teardrop Explodes and the Wild Swans, two of the greatest groups of all time.

We had a wander around the town after the gallery, and took photos. There were lots of people on the harbour beach, mainly kids building sand castles and playing barefoot cricket. It felt difficult wielding a camera in such a situation, and we both we aware of taking great pains to NOT get any children in shot. So we ended up with lots of empty photos that tell, essentially, a lie due to what is NOT photographed. I thought maybe I should do a series of photos with this idea: places where there are people, perhaps specifically children, but without the children there. So that the photos become about the fact that we are now conditioned to avoid capturing children on camera… C said it was like that photo of the Enniskillin bombing where they blanked out all the people, and added that there will probably be generations of children growing up without photos of themselves. Or much fewer at least. Or at least fewer photos of themselves in public places. This would be a good angle on my film of empty classrooms, and maybe I will expand the idea to include empty playgrounds etc. Or at least I will if I ever get the time.

Had a good, if brief (my fault!) chat with Michael on line last night. He was in the process of writing a piece on Stereolab, and we agreed that it is difficult to write about a group like Stereolab because they play very much on the idea of formula, where the changes from album to album, year to year are slight nuances rather than big shifts of position. And that once you’ve written about them, it’s hard to get a new angle, to say new things without being dull and over-intellectual. And without repeating what you said the last time… I think this is maybe why I’m finding it so hard to review the new Stereolab album: I love it because it sounds like Stereolab. What more do you really need to know?

This of course assumes that ones readership is constant, that they have grown with you and are not newcomers who may not have the faintest idea what Stereolab sound like, or even who the hell they are. Which in turn raises the question of who or what you write for, and since my answer to that one is as its almost always been, then it doesn’t matter at all that I describe once again what Stereolab sound like. Or who they are. Or expand on the fact that I love the new Stereolab album because it sounds like Stereolab.

The answer, incidentally, is: For myself as a means of recording my life and making some sense of it. But then you know that already, didn’t you?

School Of Rock

We watched School of Rock on Monday night. It was… bearable. I even laughed occasionally. Or smirked, at least. But it got me thinking (again) about how the Americanisation of the history of popular culture is erasing provincial truths. Specifically I’m thinking about how the American reading (and subsequently writing) of Punk was/is rooted so deeply in the hegemony of Rock, and how this doesn’t translate to the UK reading. Or at least the UK reading of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, and at least from my experience and recollection. For me, there was no way that someone who liked, say, The Ramones or The Clash at that time would even consider for a moment listening to, let alone confessing a liking for, Led Zeppelin or AC/DC. They were diametrically opposed. Polar extremes. They were the kind of important issues that would lead to fights in the playground. These days, however, it all gets lumped into this despicable melting pot whose title is ‘Classic Rock’. The aroma from this brew is naturally a noxious stench that burns the nostrils and rots the brain.

As Michael says, it’s a levelling of the playing field, and whilst it can be argued that this levelling is good in that it makes all connections possible, it’s bad in that it makes connections of superficial musical style appear more important that those of cultural and historical context; erases the boundaries erected by those contextual influences that are necessary for the nuances of cultural discord that, for me at least, are invaluable parts of the musical jigsaw puzzle.

But I’m also more than willing to concede that for most people it doesn’t matter in the slightest, and that as a result to most people I just look like a pretentious arsehole who considers himself cooler than them because he thinks The Modern Lovers are better than Queen. Even though I don’t, and even though they are… or were. Or always will be.

Calvin Johnson last night was awesome. Review will be posted sometime soon... meanwhile here are some of my photos from the show.

spam or poetry?

choreograph serviceman sutton timetable koala
sake cancel necrotic requited deprivation
clank

Bought a new sketchbook and some pens this morning, and whilst paying for them I spotted a little note on the counter saying ‘please take a card and mail it to someone’. There was a small pile of stamped postcards with art on one side… very cool. So I picked up three and will post them off soon. I thought it was similar to my memories and secrets cards, and wonder how many people will actually pick them up and mail them. People have a certain mistrust of anything that is free, after all, don’t they? I mean, in that context, certainly. I’m keeping my eyes peeled for more of them, anyway. I’m sure there must be other strategically placed piles of cards around the city. No-one in the store seemed to know anything about it, or at least they weren’t letting on if they did. They seemed a bit bemused by it all..

So I took my sketchbook and did some drawing in the Boston Tea Party. I also wrote out another memory and left it on the table by some teenagers from Sidmouth. The memory was all about Kingston Bridge in Glasgow, and in fact that’s another of the items on my ‘do this you lazy fucker’ list for the half term. Other items are ‘get a life’ and ‘start a record label’. I shall endeavour to achieve at least one of those.

Actually we got a bit of a life last night as we met L in town and went to see the Young Devon Animators screening at the Phoenix, and then dinner at Herbies after. There were six films from my school showing; all the year 10 films ‘inspired’ by William Kentridge. They looked kind of cool on the big screen, and I wish the kids had been able/arsed to go see them because I think they would have been proud of what they achieved. But what do I know? We had a good time anyway. There’s a comics convention thang at the Phoenix on Sunday so I think we’re all going to hook up at that again, which will be nice.

Plus, on the subject of getting a life, I think we’re going to see Azure Ray tonight. I get to try out my new lens! I wanted a fast 28mm but could only get a fast 50mm so I got that anyway, I hope it works okay… we shall see. My first entry into ‘live’ music photography. Ha ha. Don’t expect the results to be any good, or anywhere near the web.

Plus, PLUS, Calvin Johnson Sunday night! Calvin Johnson in Exeter! At the Cavern!

Another strange couple of days in school. More kids than Wednesday, but at best classes were a third full, at worst a few kids in total. Or should that have read the other way around? Not sure. Such small classes are strange. Whilst it’s nice being able to talk to every student and give them attention, it’s difficult to establish a group dynamic. So I don’t know if I’d like it being that way all the time, although it has been a relief at the end of such a busy half term. Just a shame it had to be under such unfortunate circumstances.

Got the Loves album in the mail today. Just slotted it into my Mac here in the Boston. Thankfully I had my headphones on my iPod, so I can give it a blast whilst waiting for C and L. It sounds great; a collision between dirty r’n’r and twee aesthetics. Odd, but oddly appealing, and just the thing I need after having fucking Queen permeating through from the class next door all lunchtime… and as if that wasn’t enough, my tutor group decided to continue the torture in the afternoon by treating me to their renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody and Bicycle Races. Not good. I despair of them, I really do. Why doesn’t even ONE of them know who The Loves are? Sigh.

Oh now The Loves sound like The Pastels. And now they’re Talulah Gosh. This cant be a bad thing, surely?

Somewhat surreal day in school. Almost all the kids stayed away, just a few bright souls around. It was sad circumstances I guess, but it was a really lovely day. I had four year 9 boys in one lesson and they all said it was the best school day they’d ever had. It was nice being able to sit down and chat with kids without all the other crap getting in the way. If only it was always thus.

Just been talking to my mom on the phone and she had some news about my brother. She got through to his work place this morning and managed to talk to his secretary. Or former secretary… seems he left in August last year. She seemed to think he was heading back to Scotland, but no-one has heard anything since apart from an email in January to someone else in the company. It’s all a bit troubling, and he’s too young for a mid-life crisis surely? He’s not even 40 yet. Sorry, trying to make light of it all. Failing miserably.