Showing posts with label Desert Island discs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Desert Island discs. Show all posts

Monday, 20 July 2009

Enjoy the show, peeps

Morning all. How are you this sunny Monday morning (if it is sunny and Monday)? I had a lovely weekend. Amongst other things, Imaginary Friend and I saw the new Harry Potter film (it was quite effective) and I bought some books. Returning to Wolverhampton I was greeted by leaden skies and the most complete, shining rainbow I've ever seen - like one of those appalling posters with a Biblical quotation that Christian teenagers have in their rooms instead of Slayer/Backstreet Boys/whoever. I took a photo on my camera but seem to have lost that device. Perhaps it's at home.

I hope you all enjoyed David Mitchell on Desert Island Discs. I was torn between hating his choices in music (apart from Elgar's Cello Concerto) for being utterly lightweight, and respecting his honesty. I suspect it's true that the music we find meaningful for the context in which we heard it, and the memories associated with it, is often banal: Mitchell chose music he may not listen to for its own qualities, but because it was associated with particular people, places and times. Amongst them were Katrina and the Waves' 'Walking on Sunshine', Radiohead's 'Creep', some Acker Bilk and Herb Alpert, the Elgar and Kermit the Frog's 'Rainbow Connection', which was a piece of genius with which I wasn't familiar.

Mitchell was, of course, charming, thoughtful and self-deprecating, and prepared to address the contradiction between wanting to go through life unnoticed and choosing a career as a performer. I did wonder about his presence on DID. They have widened their choice of guests recently, sometimes to the detriment of the show, which at its best can be a meditation on a life lived badly, sadly, wisely or well. Mitchell was the perfect guest in many ways: witty, thoughtful, distinctive: but he's only 35. His songs reminded him of his parents, his time in Cambridge. Let's have him back when he's 60, when he's faced love, loss, death, triumph and failure, and has more experience about which to be self-deprecating.

Anyway - well worth listening too, particularly for his views on fashion (essentially: showing off) and his self-portrait 'tweed on the inside'. As I suspected, we have a lot in common: nerds, still living in squalid student accommodation, alone, so very alone. Except that he's funny, gifted etc. etc.

It's on Radio 4 again on Friday morning. Or possible Thursday, I can't remember. It's not on Listen Again though for music copyright purposes.

Monday, 9 March 2009

Grumble

God, what a gruelling weekend. Kept up all night by the teenage party next door, only to be out by 6 for a day-long meeting in London, then coming back sans voice and feeling rough.

My meeting was at British Fencing's headquarters. I've been around fencing for a long time now, spending plenty of weekends laying pistes, patrolling hotel corridors, refereeing and occasionally losing fights. However, I'd never been down to the sanctum. I expected it to look like this, especially as it's Baron's Gate, Rothschild Road:

Actually, it's a small office suite in a residential road somewhere in North London. No suits of armour, no slash-damage to the walls, no gentlemen's club ambience. Ho hum.

Sunday, I spent in bed, marking, and bemoaning the loss of my beautiful light tenor voice. Thankfully, Richard Madeley didn't pick anything worth humming along to on Desert Island Discs anyway. A lightweight man with execrably middle-of-the-road tastes. Why somebody thought he was worth inviting, I don't know. DID used to invite interesting people, not just celebrities - perhaps the distinction is too subtle even for Radio 4 now.