Rob Wickings's Blog, page 13
June 3, 2023
The Voice Of The Chef
The idea of ‘voice’ in writing seems a bit odd if you stop to think about it. Consider: you’re reading this sentence. No-one is actually saying anything. What voice are you hearing in your head? It’s very unlikely it will be my Essex-via-East-Anglia twang. It’s more likely to be some version of the way you talk—unless I’ve been artful enough to use slang, idiom or odd turns of phrase to somehow get you hearing me. There’s a real trick to that, and I ain’t sure I’ve mastered it yet.
The idea of voice in a cookbook seems even more peculiar. I mean, how do you get a recipe to sound like your favourite celebrity chef—especially when so many of them are co-written with a group of testers and editors? Accuracy, many would argue, is more important than a winning turn of phrase. Clarity above chatty.
This means that, for the most part, cookery books are really dull to read. Full of great pics and delicious food, sure, but if you’re a fan of, say, Gordon Ramsay (I am assured such people exist) you will find little evidence of his sweary, fast-talking style in any of his many volumes. Everything is very careful, very precise and deeply, horribly boring.
Many TV chefs with big, distinctive personalities onscreen have the same problem, muted and bland on the page. Rick Stein, John Torode, Tom Kerridge, even the lovely Nadiya Hussein bring little of themselves to their cookbooks.
There are very few cookery books which I read for pleasure, enjoying the voice of the chef as it unspools in my head. And I speak as someone who owns a shoulder-high stack of the things. Quite literally. They’re nice to browse through when I’m looking for something yummy for dinner but otherwise—meh.
Would I lie to you?It’s not all bad news. I have to mention The Pukka Prince, Jamie Oliver, whose books hum with his Essex vibe, even after dozens of volumes. We can’t forget the two original queens of TV cookery, Delia Smith and Madhur Jaffrey, whose books you cannot help but read in their gentle, nurturing tones.
Their spiritual successor, Nigella (I reckon she’s at the level where we can dispense with surnames) has the balance about right. Her books bulge with sensuous prose, ripe with colour and scent and flavour. She does not shirk from describing the burnished gold of properly caramelised onion, or the way fat dances on frying pancetta. Nigella goes all in on the sensory experience. At her most lush, she can make your head spin.
For me, it’s some of the lesser-known cooks who bring us their best between the covers (of a book, you pervs). As a massive fan of thrifty goddess Jack Monroe, I find half the pleasure in her recipes is the personality she imbues in them, right down to the way she carefully explains cookery terms like ‘make a well’ for those readers who may be a little unsure of the meaning. She’ll even slip jokes into the recipes, which is an outlier—humour is surprisingly hard to find in cookbooks. Another Essex denizen. I could be accused of bias.
Similarly, Hasan Semay T/A Big Has brings his big, loud personality to the big bold flavours of his cooking. It’s Norf Lundon Turkish style all the way. Has writes like he talks—the recipes in his book read as if he’s just yelled them down the phone at ya, bruv. Big Has Home is worth checking out as we roll into barbecue season—it’s rock your grill righteousness.
I sometimes wonder how MLK Fisher, whose post-war books like How To Cook A Wolf are acknowledged peaks in the food writing scene, would have come across on TV. I like to hope her dry wit, razor-sharp observation, honesty and warmth would have translated nicely. I believe she would have been a bit of a star.
We also have to mention Anthony Bourdain, who came at foody godhood in the opposite direction—writer first, telly second. Kitchen Confidential set the tone. We already knew he could write. The personality was part of the package. He’d successfully written himself onto our internal monitors. His swashbuckling Noo Yawk swagger was set up well before he strutted onto the screen.
This brings me onto the cook (he’d never call himself a chef) who got me into cooking in the first place. Nigel Slater holds the title of the writer with most volumes in my Big Stack O’ Cookbooks. He has gently moved away from the rigid constriction of recipes, preferring to set up a set of guidelines towards something good to eat. I think he was the first to understand and communicate how every kitchen is different, no hob or oven heating at predictable rates. He taught me to relax, enjoy the time I spent in the kitchen and focus on flavour rather than technique.
Although he’s been a feature on food telly for years, I don’t think it’s the medium in which he shines. He always seems a bit diffident, a little shy. His recent sojourns around the Middle East showed a different side to Nigel, an explorer and advocate of the home cook and the humble kitchen. In a house full of Lebanese or Egyptian woman all chattering away while assembling a feast he seems to come to life—more enthusiastic, more open, more relaxed. This is the Nigel I see in his books, trying out different ideas, playing with new ingredients, always ready with a cheeky smile and a smutty joke (trust me, there are moments in Real Cooking which are snort-through-your-nose filthy).
I guess we have to accept a lot of celebrity chefs are not writers. Their strengths are the reasons we buy their books, but we get little of the person in exchange. It’s so good to find writers who can also cook and are able to bring more of their personality to their recipes and food. That’s a real treat for all the senses.
May 27, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 19
I’m trying to spread The Swipe into different distribution vectors (hello to any new readers coming in from Tumblr, Mastodon and LinkedIn) so introductions are in order if this is your first visit to Excuses And Half Truths and The Swipe.
Hello there. I’m Rob Wickings, a writer and dweeb based in England’s largest town, Reading. The blog in which this newsletter is based has been running in some form for 15 years, but the current weekly ‘diary, links and a song to finish’ format comes out of lockdown. What can I say, it keeps me busy.
Expect the content to skew towards thoughts on creativity, communication and language, with a spot focus on art, culture and food. Oh, and I’ll wibble on about my garden a lot. If you want to know more about my novels and anthologies, check out the link in the sidebar. Hope to see you every Saturday.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Stealing For The Sky by Adam Roberts. A techno-crime caper from one of our best SF writers, this is a breezy romp around Europe with a great McGuffin and an intriguing, mysterious main character. It asks a lot of questions which never get properly resolved, which makes me wonder if this isn’t part of a larger work. More research needed.
Rob is watching…
Trash Theory’s overview on the life and times of the KLF. Doesn’t really do anything new, but it’s a solid and thorough stomp down the road which would lead Bill, Jimmy and Gimpo to a bothy in Jura and eternal notoriety…
Rob is listening…
To Supergrass. Forever under-rated, never underperformed. Late In The Day is the highlight of their imperial phase album In It For The Money. Moody, epic and neatly subverted in the video. Sure, let’s go black and white. Yes, let’s put on the roll necks. Oh, one last detail…
Rob is eating…
Rice pudding brûlée. Don’t knock till ya try it.
To start, something very clever. You really need to read this aloud. Don’t be worried by the big chunk of text. This will flow more easily than you think.
When done well, I believe science fiction can deal with the big subjects and ask the big questions with more elegance and grace than any other genre. Why? Well, perhaps because the writer can creep up on you with the promise of a fun story about aliens or spaceships or time travel and then WHAM slip in a treatise on the nature of grief or the malleability of human nature. We skiffy types can be sneaky that way.
Why Science Fiction Is Important
Here’s an amazing interview with hostage negotiator Scott Walker, who spent years persuading both kidnappers and the suffering families of the victims towards a satisfactory (and more importantly, bloodless) conclusion. I’m not entirely convinced that Scott’s life lessons are applicable to all aspects of life, but taking a broader view of an unpleasant situation and understanding both sides of the argument seem pretty a reasonable way to approach conflict.
You are a Michelin-starred chef. You work for fifteen hours a day creating extraordinary flavour combinations for an adoring audience of food aficionados. What do you eat when you’re off duty? It sure isn’t going to be a snack you need tweezers for…
You are a member of the crew on a Federation starship. You work long hours in dangerous conditions bringing peace and stability to the galaxy. What is your go-to drink when you’re off duty to help you relax and bring on a buzz? It’s very unlikely to contain alcohol, but it will hit the spot…
I loved this interview with cook and writer Kate Lebo, who explores the tropes, mannerisms and common mistakes which are part of that most misunderstood of literary forms—the recipe. It’s surprisingly difficult to get right and needs as much fact-checking as any newspaper article.
Language, as we continue to discover, is slippery and volatile. The Oxford English Dictionary officially introduces ten new words to the lexicon every year, with many more sliding frictionlessly into common usage. As the internet is still, at heart, a huge experiment into how we navigate using the written word, it shouldn’t be surprising when we find a new stretch for an old formal term…
Ask Not For Whomst The Bell Tolls
You have to love an exercise which is simultaneously a labour of love and a clear product of obsession. The Condiment Packet Archive sits neatly in this pocket. It’s strangely addictive, blending the familiar and strange in one huge, clickable archive. Be warned. You may get a bit lost in this. I certainly did.
To finish, as we’re thinking ketchup and mustard, let’s join comedian Jamie Loftus as she watches competitive eater Joey Chestnut break his own hot-dog snarfing record. It’s a tale full of sights, sounds and smells which may put you off the idea of a sausage in a bun on the barbie this weekend.
Blur have announced new music. Naturally, then, as a life-long contrarian, I present a clip of their last comeback in 2012, playing Hyde Park after the London Olympics. I love The Universal, and this is a great version. You can tell how overwhelmed the band are by the love coming off the audience to them. Damon, in particular, is obviously just about holding it together. It’s a beautiful moment. Yes, here’s your lucky day.
See you in seven, true believers.
May 20, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 18
You’ve probably noticed I bang on a lot about the garden in the weekly preamble. It’s not just because I have had an epiphany at the feet of Saint Montague of Don and have become an acolyte in the ways of compost and seed rotation. There are clear benefits to the life of a writer in spending time in the garden. Exercise is good for the soul, and the mental peace it engenders can settle the questions I have about a plot point or character quirk. I’m certainly not the only writer to see the similarity in what happens through the seasons and the creation of an artwork. Austin Kleon, for example, is on the money when he compares writing to the old gardening truism of Sleep, Creep, Leap. If nothing else, it’s a creative act TLC and I enjoy together out in the fresh air and greenery, which has to be a good thing, right?
This week: a couple of drinks, some positive thinking on AI and considerations on the concept of penguin.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Rob is watching…
Richard Deacon’s A History Of British Secret Service. This is full of fascinating historical nuggets on how this country gained its reputation as spymasters. The birth of cryptography (which of course has impacts well beyond joe country) and the behind-the-scenes shenanigans which arguably had more impact on the current geopolitical landscape than more obvious and noisy conflicts make this a completely compelling read. Written in 1969, so the impact of the computer and internet age don’t get a mention. Nonetheless, an essential read to understand some of the secret history which has brought us to where we stand today.
Citadel on Amazon Prime, which is utterly ridiculous but a riot. A very different spy narrative to the one above. I wouldn’t take any insights on the recent state of global play from it, but the notion of two huge multinational organisations duking it out over who rules the world with no real national affiliation seems like a fun pole to wind a conspiracy theory around. Worth it just to see Stanley Tucci and Lesley Manville chewing up the scenery.
Rob is listening…
To TribalNeed, who redefines what you can do as a busker. I love the build he makes from a very simple six-note idea. At one point, he seems to be playing exclusively for the four kids cross-legged on the sand in front of him who are laser-focussed on everything he’s doing. The mob of dancers are just peripheral. Content warning for didgeridoo.
Rob is eating…
Asparagus. The window has opened and the good British stuff is in the shops. Cook it gently in a shallow pan with a little butter and water until bright green then enjoy simply with some bread or as a side for fishy protein. Like hot cross buns at Easter or Christmas mince pies, I overindulge while the season lasts. It’s one of the flavours which acts as a harbinger to summer. Go on, dig in!
Like many fiction magazines, Clarkesworld has had issues with the flood of barely-‘written’ submissions from ChatGPT instances to the slush pile. At one point, they had to close the gates on unsolicited entries. To their credit, they are making a stand against the onrush, doing so with humour and grace. This story in the current issue from Naomi Kritzer takes a markedly positive spin on the role a rogue AI could play on our lives.
Better Living Through Algorithms
This next one, fair warning, is a bit creepy and sad. As an insight into how weird Britain can be at times, though, it’s a great read. Who knows what inspires the actions of The Somerset Gimp?
Brrr. I need a drink after that. Let’s go on a quest for the perfect New York Happy Meal. No, we’re not heading off to Mickey D’s. This is a far more civilised proposition. Although it has the potential to slide gently into chaos…
While we’re at the bar, I am conflicted by The Carousel. It contains a lot of the booze which I enjoy, but in combination? I’m really not sure. There’s only one thing for it. I’ll have to go in. As an aside, congrats to Richard Godwin for using this booze-bomb to celebrate the 100th edition of his newsletter The Spirits. His ten rules of cocktail making are essential reading.
We’ve spoken before about how the Batman model is not a good method for fighting urban crime (or more specifically, the root causes therein). But as actual billionaires like our pal Elno are starting to bleat about how we need a caped crusader to clean up the streets, it’s worth restating the bleeding obvious. Hilarious as it would be to find the CEO of Twitter hiding in back alleys dressed in black leather ready to jump out on muggers (sorry if you just got a flashback to The Somerset Gimp) it’s another example of extremely rich dudes refusing to take any sense of responsibility for their power and instead indulging in childish fantasy. And I say that as a fan of The Man In Black.
Back to the garden. Please spend a little time with Elizabeth Blackwell and her Curious Herbal, a truly innovative (and ahead-of-its-time) botanical classification which has the advantage of being informative and truly beautiful. I would cheerfully print some of these out and hang them up on a sunlit wall.
Let’s face it, a great part of our interaction with the rest of the world now takes place using a keyboard. That’s how I’m talking to you right now. The act of typing should be second nature to us. So why are we so bad at it? Is it really the fault of auto-correct or are we, however unwittingly, moving towards a post-literate method of communication?
(Sidebar—journalist Mic Wright has started prefacing his work on Conquest Of The Useless, written increasingly on assignment on a phone, with the statement ‘typos are a political act’. Casey Lewis ends each edition of After School by saying ‘all typos are intentional to make sure you’re paying attention’. Something is going on.
Steven Wright has written a book. I think you already know what it’s going to sound like.
This is a big one. Our communication (or lack of it) with other members of our tribe have a lot to do with common ground, on basic things on which we can all agree—or at least understand the basic context. If, as researchers at the University Of California in Berkeley have discovered, we are having trouble with that, then what hope do we have in finding consensus with the important stuff, like climate change?
Lastly, Michael Marshall Smith tells us a great story about his neighbours—or does he? Unlike a lot of writers, he is embracing AI in ways which give me hope. It helps, of course, that he’s always been a forward-looking and thinking kind of guy. AI is here, and it can be a force for good or bad. It’s down to us to figure out which way the story goes.
Let’s Outro. We’ve played The Decemberist’s Don’t Carry It All before. This version, busked on the streets of Manhattan by lead singer Colin Meloy, seems to cut to the heart of the message. It’s one of my favourites. May it serve as a reminder to all of my lovely Readership to take care of each other, ask for help if you need and take a break if things get too much. I’m here if you need me. This I swear to all.
See you in seven, true believers.
May 13, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 17
A week away has done wonders for the mental batteries. I feel calm, collected and focussed. Just as well, as there’s lots to do on both the writing front and in terms of this year’s garden project. I’ll bore you more on that in a couple of weeks. Still, at least it’s No-Mow May, so I don’t have that chore to worry about. Wildlife of All Hallows Road—you’re welcome.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Frankly, after a visit to Barter Books in Alnwick, I’m not sure where to start. Any suggestions?
Rob is watching…
Eurovision, obviously.
Rob is listening…
To Eurovision playlists, obviously.
Rob is eating…
Fish and chips from Lewis’ in Seahouses. Or the whole bream at The Fish Shack in Amble. Or the dressed crab from The Old Boathouse at the other end of the harbour. Or a prime example of steak and ale pie served up with a pint of Landlord at The Mason’s Arms in Warkworth. One thing about a trip to Northumburland—you do eat very well.
How is it that Charlie Brown always fools for Lucy’s promise not to yank the ball away from him at the last minute? Is it a metaphor for the failure of hope, or Shultlz’s nod to the trial of Sisyphus? I didn’t realise there is an end to the story—kind of.
This is a story about AI which nods to some SF tales I’ve read before, but with a much more inevitably tragic ending. Fiction has nothing on the cruelty of real life. You may feel some of the people involved are a bit pathetic. I’m concerned that if this is the only way they can find companionship, then something has gone very wrong.
A comprehensive list of which whisky goes best with which fizzy soda. This may come in very handy once the warm weather finally arrives.
This is a story which gives everything away in the headline and tells you nothing about the delights within. Epic trolling from Timothy Faust, and I guarantee you’ll have the tune in your head all day after this.
I present this next bit in my capacity as the proud member of a union, and hope it helps you understand why worker’s collectives are more important now than ever. The job market is more fragile and rigged than ever. We need to stand together to make sure we get treated fairly.
More from Everything Is Amazing. You really should subscribe to it. This post talks about a lot of the common touch points in this newsletter, particularly the value of curiosity. There’s always more to find out, and that’s the fun of it.
Jacob Ready (yes, that is his name) is on a mission to visit every bookstore in New York. An admirable if increasingly tough mission, as it seems more of them are opening in the Five Boroughs than ever. Applause, though, and let’s offer up a prayer for his poor groaning bookshelves.
Anne Kadet has a bit of context and chats to Jacob, who seems like a thoroughly lovely bloke. His reading tastes are pretty similar to mine.
The Frog Story is simple, yet contains multitudes. I still don’t know what to make of the mother.
Finally, a story of triumph coming from the most unlikely of sources. It just goes to show, you have no idea who your fans are going to be when you release your art out into the wild. But you should always be gracefully grateful.
Did I mention it’s Eurovision tonight? The greatest night of the year has come around at last. The lineup for 2023 is as diverse and surprising as ever, with semi-finalists who seemed like a solid lock not making it through the viewers vote, and songs I thought had no chance roaring into glory. It really is as much about the performance as the song now. Anyway, I’ll be hanging out on Twitter as usual (possibly for the last time with the way things are going) and offering my increasingly boozy and probably incorrect opinions and predictions.
Let’s close up with the song I want to win the contest. Best of British to Mae Muller, but it’s all about the Aussie prog-rockers for me. UNLEASH THE KEYTAR.
See you in seven, true believers.
May 6, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 16
We are In The North, well and truly over the border into Danelaw. Warkworth, a pretty village with an imposing castle up on the hill. From here, the fishing port of Amble is an—amble along the coast walk. Northumberland is a happy place for us, a point of peace and joy where we can rediscover ourselves, reenergise and reset for the coming summer. Much fish will be eaten. Much ale will be drunk. Time to get salty air in our lungs and the soft light of the north-east in our souls.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
The Accomplice by Steve Cavanaugh. His Eddie Flynn books take the courtroom thriller basics and add propulsive, twisty plot and great characters. Sure, it’s all a bit pulpy. But that’s the good bit. Decent holiday reading.
Rob is watching…
The waves from the beach at Warkworth.
Rob is listening…
to the waves from the beach at Warkworth.
I mean, come on.Rob is eating…
Homemade bread (more on that in a separate post next week) slathered with home made butter. Jacques Pépin style. Check out the old-school Robot-Coupe.
I believe I made my feelings about the gigantic exercise in corporate PR taking place today clear in last week’s chapter. Just in case further clarification is needed, I’ll let Scottish writer and sage Charlie Stross take the reins. Pun intended.
I was also taken by John Higgs’ take on the shenanigans. Ritual and magical thinking play a huge part in our relationship to the royal family. You can’t take them on logically. That is not the sphere in which they operate.
I guess, and it’s slightly cheering to note, most people will be consuming the coronation as a kind of entertainment for the masses—a one-in-a-lifetime orgy of pageantry and pomp of the kind we do best, a show which, as a tourist attraction, is the argument you’ll hear as the primary one for hanging onto the royals at all. Awe-inspiring in the way Mickey Mouse is if you run into him on the streets of Disneyland. Which explains, I suppose, why everyone’s favourite cuddly goth accepted an invitation to the Abbey…
https://www.theredhandfiles.com/why-are-you-going-to-kings-coronation/
Enough of this foolishness. As you know, this newsletter is focussed on creativity and imagination, with a focus on the tools available to us in order to help realise our dreams, without sliding into well-worn patterns of tired cliche.
Haaaang on a minute.
I love a big fat cruise article. The strange, heightened atmosphere. The isolation. The sort of people who think it’s fun to go on a cruise. Tie all that in with a cross promotion featuring a famous main character who is pretty mech removed from any sense of reality, and you have a long read well worth curling up with. Lauren Oyler even neatly addresses the journalistic elephant on the pool deck.
Brown plate will always make me happy. Place a heaped platter of fried things down in front of me, double carb, and watch me go. The fishier the better, so fritto misto is an unalloyed joy. Although I will never say no to a Jenga-stack of fish fingers. A flurry of parsley or gremolata if you must, although the committed brown-plater will hit the plate with hot sauce or mayo. No salad, please. This is a purist experience.
As you can tell, my culinary tastes were developed in childhood. What, like you’re any different? Sure, our palates change over time, but the framework of our likes and dislikes is bolted together in our first ten years. Jasmine Attia takes us on a trip round her back pages to the contents of her table.
The octopus is an extraordinary, constantly surprising creature. I believe the species to be sentient, which is why you’ll never find it on my version of brown plate. I can’t eat something which may be smarter than me. For Aeon Magazine, David Borkenhagen considers how our tentacled pal may help our understanding of time itself…
Technology changes and creates new challenges. The solution engenders new problems. The street finds its own use for things.
“Something middle-aged men and teen-age girls have in common is the act of finding yourself, and being kind of self-conscious. Maybe some beliefs that you’ve held on to for a long time are finally being shed. The teen-age girl in me is obsessed with the National, and feels very spoken to and seen by them, maybe for the exact same reasons that they speak to middle-aged men.”
Phoebe Bridgers
Of course I love The National.
I love this list of challenges from Everything Is Amazing. We accidentally completed challenge one yesterday on a visit to Warkworth Castle, four minutes from The Byrne. Definitely worth a look if you’re in the area. British Heritage have done a great job with the context and information. There’s lots to discover and loads of crumbly walls to climb.
Challenge five? Hard nope.
Lastly, as a way to ignore all the nonsense around the Great Encrownation, I have decided to give up and slip gently under the surface of the nearest bog. Peace at last.
Please Accept My Application To Beome A Bog Body
The Outro? Well, tempting as it was to just go old school with Johnny Rotten and the gang, there was only ever one choice. ALLTAGEVVAH NAH!
See you in seven, true believers.
April 29, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 15
A brief schedule update before we start. TLC and I will be away next week, so there’s a possibility Chapter 16 may be delayed, running short, or both. The fact we will be in the wilds and away from people during the week of Royalist Foolishness is entirely coincidental. Enjoy your bunting and coronation chicken samosas if you choose to celebrate. We’ll be up a hill somewhere, plotting the inevitable demise of the parasitic monarchy.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Stone Heart Deep by Paul Bassett Davies. A nice twist on the ‘strange things happening in an isolated island community’ genre. Paul nails the creeping sense of dread and paranoia, with a smart science fictional twist.
Rob is watching…
This Korean breakfast master at work. Apart from the skill, dedication and precision on display, doesn’t this kick the idea of an Egg McMuffin into the long grass?
Rob is listening…
To new Foos, obviously.
Rob is eating…
Bimpy’s Pizza. Another goodie from Dan Pelosi. If the weather’s good over the bank holiday I might try this in the Kamado Joe we bought each other as an anniversary present last year. Pizza in 90 seconds? Oh yeah!
If you’re on Twitter at all, you will have come across dril. His output is angry, surreal yet strangely insightful. There is a dril quote which can be of use for every occasion. It may seem dril is the deranged output of an overclocked AI, but there is a person behind the madness. Elno Muskrat is a fan. Make of that what you will.
This amazing graphic shows just how high you have to go to reach the boundary between Earth’s atmosphere and space. It’s brilliantly done, and although the physical contact is the same, it’s the opposite of doom scrolling. You will feel that bit smarter for checking it out, trust me.
Climate fiction has been a trope of the SF scene for longer than you think, in the same way environmental protest did not just crop up in the last five years. Speculative near-future tales are now sneaking into the mainstream. Jeff Vandermeer, who has form in the subject, argues there is little of real meaning in these stories. It’s just another setting. Post-apocalypt-fic.
Language is a virus. As such, it mutates and reconfigures to better reinfect the host. Anyone who claims slang and argot are debasing our culture is clearly missing the point. Change is what keeps the conversation fresh. I mean, even Shakespeare made up words when he needed to get an idea across…
Ted Gioia is doing some remarkable work at the mo. He’s publishing his brilliant new book on music in chapters through his Substack—for free! Like all the best music criticism, it ain’t all about the tunes or the tunesmiths. Take this bit on saxophonist Jimmy Guiffre, who’s radical ideas on group formation fly in the face of traditional structures while still having a rigid logic. Lots to learn about theories of teamwork in here.
The Group Is What The Group Is
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Ted considers the torments of Christopher Burney, left in solitary confinement by the Nazis for eighteen months. As a serious introvert, I like to think solitude is a friend. Even I would balk at what Burney had to go through. But Ted’s point is valid—silence can be golden if you can handle it.
Tsundoku is the Japanese term for buying books and not reading them. If you’re like me, you have a TBR with plenty of volumes which have remained untouched since they came out of the book bag. Look, it’s difficult to walk past a bookshop at the best of times for me, and once you’re in it’s rude to browse and leave without buying something, particularly if you’re serious about supporting independent businesses. Umberto Eco has the right idea, and who are we to argue with a master?
Tsundoku and The Anti-Library Of Umberto Eco
My fictional output is clearly based in certain genres. Gleefully, unapologetically so. You don’t spit out books called Satan’s Schoolgirls and Pirates Of The Moon without understanding the ground in which you’re playing. But why do we read like that? What entices the reader towards certain kinds of stories? The answer, as Adam Sternberg relates, is simple and complex all at once. Great. Of course it is.
You can do anything with Lego. I mean. Literally anything.
Last up, let’s look at how archive film footage has become a commodity which, due to exorbitant cost, has made it more difficult to make certain kinds of film. Adam Curtis, who has the whole of the BBC Perivale centre to play in without cost, has it lucky. If you have to get licences from some of the other archives, you’d better have deep pockets.
Outro Time. Goat are back! Why was I not informed my favourite Swedish tribal hippy psych-freak groove-cult had new music? Worse, it seems I’ve just missed a short UK tour. I clearly need to reboot my etheric antennae, as I’m not receiving the transmissions from the oversphere. Oh, well, looks like I’ll have to perform the ritual down the garden on me tod. What’s that smell? Just incense, baby. Incense and good vibes.
See you in seven, true believers.
April 22, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 14
The blossoms are finally on the apple and cherry trees at the bottom end of the garden, and the acers are unfurling their fractal leaves in shades of cream and crimson. We are making plans for the copse end of the grounds, which goes through periods of focus and neglect. It’ll never be done, but then that’s the joy and pain of a garden. Change is the only constant.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Beyond The Burn Line by Paul McAuley. Up to his usual standard, a story of the far future after an unspecified ecological catastrophe which has pitched civilisation back to a simpler existence. Lots to unpack as the tale gently unfurls, heading in unexpected directions and into strange territories.
Rob is watching…
Brigand Jurko, an amazing animated film from Slovakia, blasted out loose and dirty and joyous in the mid 70s by one guy, the visionary Victor Kubal. Here’s the background.
Rob is listening…
To Fred Again. His Tiny Desk performance for NPR is an understated triumph.
Rob is eating…
Rigatoni alla vodka, recipe courtesy of Dan Pelosi. One to enjoy while we’re still on the cusp of cool days and nights, cos it’s a creamy tangy ribsticker of a dish.
A poem and a comic in one from Beckett Jones. This is really lovely stuff, beautifully written and illustrated. Non-narrative and all the better for it.
Why is the cuisine of certain countries in Europe lauded above others? What is it about French food which gives it a reputational advantage over British—particularly when, say, seafood dishes served in the coastal towns of Brittany will frequently be simple preparations of ingredients from the English Channel? Jordan King has a theory…
Food giant Jeremiah Tower has begun to reminisce about his imperial period, with some incredible stories on offer. This one, about the launch of legendary restaurant Chez Panisse, is about as debauched as it gets. The seventies were a different place…
The mechanics of writing fascinate me. The way a piece is constructed, honed and finished is an exercise in craft, requiring a clear knowledge of certain rules, tools and procedures. This is especially true of journalism, where stories have to hit certain beats at certain points. An example—the Nut Graf. Once you know it’s there, it’ll start jumping out at you.
I missed last week’s birthday of R.E.M.’s first album Murmur, but there’s no reason not to raise a belated celebratory glass to one of my favourite records. It changed my musical tastes overnight, and is still a go-to when I need a little lift. Oh, and Perfect Circle was one of the first dances at our wedding. That’s how much it means.
Some of the great works of literature were originally published as serials in the pages of weekly or monthly magazines, notably the early novels of Charles Dickens. Serial Reader is a clever initiative which takes that notion and runs with it, breaking down classic tales into easy-to-digest daily nuggets. It seems like a great way to get some literary fibre into your diet to me.
I’m not sure you could call this a comprehensive overview, but as an exploration of a certain sort of decorative maximalism there’s a lot to enjoy in the next link. Let’s get flouncy!
Robert Altman’s version of The Long Goodbye hits its 50th birthday with a swathe of celebrations. It’s a great bit of crime fiction, taking the original hard-boiled text and applying a very seventies spin. Elliot Gould makes for an elegantly rumpled Philip Marlowe, and the twists and turns make for a satisfying dose of downbeat noir.
Look, I will admit to being borderline obsessed with the look and feel of Ridley Scott’s Alien. That clunky, junky way with a spaceship interior is a visual balm, and I can just sit and drink in the details for days. It would seem I ain’t the only one…
Lastly, this lovely piece from Emma Straub on love, loss and fine tailoring is a heavy recommend. I’ll say no more, but be prepared to feel a little misty by the end.
The Outro comes courtesy of my pal Dom, who recommended a great bit of archive from the BBC on a genuinely British musical phenomenon—The Radiophonic Workshop. Massively influential even today, they popularised techniques and compositional methods which had been the purview of the avant-garde, bringing the music of the future into the living room. You know the tunes.
See you in seven, true believers.
April 15, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 13
We spent Easter in and out of garden centres, planting up our purchases, digging and tidying and clearing. Under clean blue skies dotted with swooping red kites, serenaded by the occasional sparrow, it felt good to be out in the sunshine. Of course, exercise has a cost, and we paid for it on Easter Monday, muscles groaning and bones twanging, our bodies singing a song with the refrain ‘you overdid it, you silly old sods.’
And the busy time in the garden is only just starting. Oh well. It’s more fun than going to the gym.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Avengers 1959 by Howard Chaykin. A very different take on the superhero team-up, with the hard-boiled punch and swing of James Ellroy matched to the gloss and glamour of a Rat Pack movie. Nick Fury leads a team including Sabretooth and Kraven The Hunter against Nazis. This is not the MCU. Cold-hearted, hot blooded stuff.
Rob is watching…
This. As if my cool quotient wasn’t deep enough in the dumpster as it was. Don’t care. I love a musical. It’s how I was raised.
Rob is listening…
I’m sure I’ve posted this before, but it bears repeating. Stevie Wonder on Sesame Street rolling out an extended, super-funky version of Superstition. Vibes, as Big Bird would say.
Rob is eating…
Street food, baby. Get yourself to The Ding for the best scran in town.
(
— BLUE COLLARTHREAD) COMING TO BLUE COLLAR CORNER.. The BIGGEST street food competition in the WORLD is rolling into town
After over 3,000 street food trader applications, we’ve got 12 of the greatest, most innovative & inventive street food traders in the Country THIS WEEKEND
pic.twitter.com/6cBCs5quhu
(@bluecollarfood) April 12, 2023
This chapter of The Swipe is dedicated to Dolcie Wickings, who swam into the world on Thursday morning. Mum and Dad are both doing well. I am now a great uncle. Who-da thunk it?
Let’s start off with a great bit of short fiction from Darcie Little Badger on The Sunday Morning Transport. Part ghost story, part time travel tale, part environmental elegy, all good. I’m conscious that I need to get back on board with posting short stories on The Swipe, especially when they’re this impressive.
Keeping it SFnal for a sec, Charlie Jane Anders has skewered a common annoying trope about trans narratives for Teen Vogue. There’s no need for unhappy endings. It’s good to talk about the reasons why people need to change and grow, and celebrate the hard work they put into becoming their true selves.
When I was a young Cub, I would come home from weekly meetings via the local chippy. My pocket money would just stretch to a cone of chips, which I would heavily douse in salt and vinegar. The best bits were always the soggy scraps at the bottom, sharp and saline and squishy. There is a trend for triple-cooked chips and super-crisp frites which bypass the fact that sometimes all a boy wants is a bag full of potatoey, oily sog. I think this country does the best chips in the world, and they are better when they’re bendy and lukewarm.
Nemesis is a crazy, propulsive SF adventure film from 1992. It’s sort of like The Terminator, with the same gleeful absurdity, visual inventiveness and low budget. It’s well worth seeking out. Max Read celebrates a particular quirk of the film. I mean, if it’s cyberpunk everyone should be wearing Mirrorshades…
The Nemesis Sunglasses Lookbook
The audiobook and podcast revolution has largely passed me by. I’m a reader, not a listener. If I’m doing things around the house, I’d rather have music playing. I prefer to write in silence, all the better to focus in the voices in my head. However, Paul Bassett Davies makes a convincing point about the power of audio fiction. He’s right about Hitchhikers’ Guide as well. The radio version was definitely the best.
A long rant from Ed Zitron following Elno Muskrat’s BBC interview this week. I am a long-time user of Twitter, and am saddened by the service’s collapse under the stewardship of this gurning buffoon. All of a sudden, Substack is starting to look like a much more viable option. I’m certainly reading a lot of newsletters nowadays…
As one of the few people in the country to handle moving picture film on a daily basis as part of my working life and an East London boy, I was both charmed and delighted to read about Ümit Mesut and his one-man mission to keep the old magic alive in Clapton. There is something about projected film which makes it look nothing like digital. The dance of the grain, the flicker of the lamp. Real cinema.
Away from all the talk about AI and Web3, there are people out there crafting and coding websites the way the Victorians would have—knitted and hand-stitched. It’s fascinating to see what good-old fashioned HTML is capable of, as the list below makes clear. Go have a poke around and enjoy the ride.
Finally, sadly, we wish happy trails to Al Jaffee who passed on this week. He was an incredibly influential and prolific cartoonist whose work for Mad Magazine gave him a reach and audience inside the mainstream. His invention of The Fold-in would inevitably bring the value of second-hand copies of Mad down from mint to foxed. Somehow, there was always a couple of creases in the back cover…
I was reading a piece on how The Situation has changed us as a species. We seem quicker to anger, less able to cope with problems which normally we could just shrug off. Above it all, there’s an overarching feeling that we haven’t really recovered. A sense of existential unease can infect everything we do and say. But I feel there is a path to healing, as long as we can be a little more gentle and understanding with each other. The Situation is a shared experience which we can deal with together. We can be better. The Outro is brought to you this week by The Finn Brothers who know There’s Nothing Wrong With You.
See you in seven, true believers.
April 8, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 12
Easter? EASTER? What is this foolishness? At what point did I doze off on the sofa for five minutes to wake and find the year is a quarter over and we’re into Eggmas?
Obviously, the very nature of a weekly newsletter is to track the seasons—it’s a good way to mine the information catacombs for content. Keep it a bit topical, make it look less like you’ve just instructed GPT-4 to scrape up some links and toss in a bit of context ‘in the style of.’
Incidentally, tried that. Did not work. You’re stuck with the real-life second-rate version of Rob while the engineers try to spin up a less prone-to-surrealist-outbursts host.
This week—nothing about eggs, rabbits, Palestinian freedom fighters from two thousand some years ago or murderous woodworking. We’ll save all that for Whitsun.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Tea From An Empty Cup by Pat Cadigan. A seminal cyberpunk novel, it gets some things about the future wrong while being disturbingly prescient in other regards. You can definitely see some of Zuckerberg’s Metaverse in her setting.
Rob is watching…
Adam Savage making a spaceship from scratch. His enthusiasm for everything from the process to the materials is all up on screen and—I’ll be honest, a lot of this stuff is solidly in my wheelhouse. Perhaps I have a new hobby…
Rob is listening…
To the Yellow Magic Orchestra, in the wake of the news that Ryuchi Sakamoto passed. I didn’t realise that Eric Clapton, of all people, had covered one of their songs. YMO did it better.
Rob is eating…
Home -cured and smoked salmon. A weekend project, but mostly hands off, with a lot of time taken with the fish handing out in a blanket of sugar and salt. The result was worth the wait.
In which a bunch of Guardian writers try the foods they swore they’d keep away from their soft palate for the first time. The results are pretty much as you’d expect, but there’s entertainment to be had in the foods on offer.
While we’re in a foody mood, the New York Times has some excellent tips on how to navigate a menu with confidence. As someone who has followed their guts rather than their brains in fancy restaurants way too many times, this guide is going to come in handy. And hopefully steer me away from the inevitable burger…
How To Order Like A Food Critic
You could, if you were feeling especially omnivorous, view the next post as a food recommendation. Me, I just think exotic molluscs are cool.
This tale of the wild excesses of old Hollywood and the crazy lengths one man will go to in the pursuit of a woman would make an incredible film. No-one would believe a word of it to be true, of course, which makes the story all the more wonderful. No Brandos were harmed in the production of this unmade movie.
As a signed-up and proud member of Suella Braverman’s least-liked group, I make sure there is always tofu in the fridge. However, my understanding of what the stuff is and more importantly what a cook can do with it has been shaken to the core by George Stiffman. I am but a beginner in the Tao of bean curd—along with, I suspect, most of the Western world.
It turns out we were all wrong about Amélie. Talk about a delayed plot twist!
We lost Paul O’Grady. It was interesting to see how many of the tributes and obits ignored his fierce (in all senses of the word) political stance. Amanda Holden claimed O’Grady ‘didn’t have a woke bone in his body’—which makes you wonder how well she knew him. Broken Bottle Boy Mic Wright redresses the balance.
I love Marc Singer’s 1993 pen portrait of magician and possible minor deity Ricky Jay. He could do things with cards which seemed to flout reality. He was also a passionate and obsessive student of his chosen art, who suffered greatly because of it. Another larger-than-life figure gone too soon.
The Boss is back on the road. I won’t be going out to see him—the prospect of paying hundreds of pounds to stand in a field and watch a tiny figure run around a stage from a half mile away does not appeal. Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib went to see him on The River Tour in 2016 and had some interesting observations to make about the man and his audience.
Craig Mod wanders for a living. His reports on what he finds make for very good and persuasive reading. Let’s put it like this—the New York Time recently published a big list of Places To Visit In 2023. London was top. Craig’s recommendation, the small Japanese city of Morioka, was second.
Lastly, an appeal. The brilliant comic artist Jenni Gyllblad needs an urgent medical procedure for which she has to crowdfund. I see this all the time in the comics field, especially in the States where the cruel state of healthcare means even celebrated and revered creators have to depend on the kindness of strangers to help them out of a hole. Jen is small-press but I’m a fan, and want to help. I hope you can too.
As ever, I am well behind the curve when it comes to modern music. This track by Biig Piig is new to me, but came out two years ago. Oh well, I may be old and slow, but I get there eventually.
See you in seven, true believers.
April 1, 2023
In Here Life Is Beautiful
‘Come and have a dance.’
Your response to that demand (and it is a demand, not a question or request) depends entirely on who says it. From your beloved? No option but to comply. It’s likely one of Your Songs has hit the decks. You need to throw shapes with them, right now.
If a drunken relative puts out a hand, you have more swerve room. It’s within your rights to fake the flare-up of an old sports injury or the development of a new twinge—say from the strenuous shape-pulling you’ve just thrown with your beloved—as an excuse to cry off. It’s also a good cue to make for the bar and grab a glass of something to ease the imaginary pain.
Exceptions to the rule? If your mum or gran make the demand, get over yourself and get back on deck. It’s the least you can do after what you put them through as a child.
If a large sweaty bloke in pancake makeup and a corset who you’ve never met before invites you up, well, what do you do? More specifically, what did I do when it happened to me last week?
Backflash to The Before Times. TLC, our mate WDW and I had snagged tickets to a sure fire West End hit—a new production of Stephen Sondheim’s Sunday In The Park With George. This had gone gangbusters on Broadway and was set to come over to London along with its star, a certain scion of the Gyllenhaal family. Long-time members of The Readership will understand why we made sure good tickets were swiftly snagged for an opening night of the run.
Guess what happened next? Yep, that goldarned Situation put us on gardening leave and snuffed all the lights on Shaftesbury Avenue for two years. No Jake for us. The money for tickets went into escrow, as vouchers with an expiry date sometime in 2023. We sort of forgot they were there. Well, I did.
TLC, organised as ever, had been keeping an eye open for likely productions to enjoy once Theatreland drew back the curtain once more. With the cutoff on tickets coming close to her birthday, we had a good excuse to plot a big bash.
The new staging of Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret was top of the list. The interior of the Playhouse Theatre had been rejigged into the Kit Kat Club, setting for a dark tale of debauchery in the face of an approaching storm in 1930s Berlin. The opening pre-lockdown run, featuring Eddie Redmayne and Jessie Buckley, had won every award under the sun. A new cast had taken the baton and shot off with it.
There were tickets, on TLC’s birthday, and an affordable upgrade put us on club tables three rows from the in-the-round stage. Nibbles and a couple of glasses of champagne? Rude not to.
The game was afoot. We were off to That London to get a good hard dose of theatre.
You enter The Kit Kat Club through a side door. Through a metal-beaded curtain and then you thread a trail through the guts of the Playhouse. A cove in a cubby hole hands you a glass of schnapps. You hear music, wild violin and woodwind. You pass a dancer, elegantly stretching. Then you pass through one final door, and the Club opens up in front of you.
I can’t offer you pictures. The last step before you are allowed into the Club takes you past a firm but polite steward who slaps a sticker over your phone camera. This makes a lot of sense. The Kit Kat Club is an immersive experience, designed to be theatrically overwhelming. Why would you want to trap yourself behind a screen?
Musicians and dancers weave through the crowds, feral, feline and dangerous. As you enter the auditorium they slink about, sometimes brushing right past you. There are no safe spaces. You are in their territory, at their tender mercy. We take our seats, lit by the warm glow of a table light, clink champagne glasses and watch as the outside world slides away.
This is theatre where everyone is contributing to the experience. That first beaded curtain is the one which opens the show, breaking the barrier between the real and imaginary. We are no longer in London in 2023. It’s Berlin. It’s 1931. And we are denizens of the infamous Kit Kat Club.
I won’t offer spoilers to the show itself. You know more songs from it than you think you do. The 1972 film with Liza Minnelli is there if you want a flavour. Hell, there’s even Helen Skelton’s brilliant fuck-you routine to Mein Herr in lat year’s Strictly to get you in the mood. Let’s just say the pre-show performances put you in the right head space for a show filled with incredible moments and coups de theatre. Aimee Lou Wood is a raw, vulnerable Sally Bowles, unable or unwilling to see the darkness unfolding around her. John McCrea is positively reptilian as the MC—host, Greek chorus, avatar of the gathering storm. Everything ends unhappily. It’s the perfect Saturday afternoon out.
Back to the interval. At the end of the first act Ernst has just revealed his true colours, turning everything we thought we knew on its head. We’ve gone to the bar, our heads swimming with the beauty and tragedy of it all. Back in my seat, I sip a Maple Manhattan and watch as dancers and musicians stalk the aisles, gradually upping the tempo as the second act edges in. An air of excitement takes hold. There are three boys on the stage, flexible as cats.
Suddenly they break off and run into the stalls, grabbing punters and pulling them up onto the performance area. One of the victims, of course, is me. ‘Come and have a dance,’ the guy in the corset said. I don’t even think about it. I’m on his ground. I do as I’m told.
It’s more of a conga than a chorus line. My hapless companions and I are arranged in a ring with the boys in between, guiding our movements. We flap around and shake our tail feathers, ungainly birds in thrall to the feline dancers.
It’s over in moments. My new friend puts a red paper party hat on me. ‘It matches your waistcoat,’ he smiles. I knew dressing up was a bad idea. Then I’m back off the stage to my table where my cocktail awaits and TLC is in fits of giggles. Moment later the lights change, and the second act begins.
My West End debut, and apparently I didn’t embarrass myself. I may not be a performer, but I know how to dance—and most importantly, when to say yes.
When we finally emerge back into London and the real world, blinking, head-spun, a little drunk, I think about what I expected from the experience and what it delivered. The show is brilliant and bleak and heart-breaking, but filled with shining moments. From the moment you step off the pavement of Northumberland Avenue, you are in another place. That’s what great art does, whether in books or cinema, comics or theatre. Go through the curtain and you never know what you may find. A chance to experience something extraordinary. Maybe, just maybe, a reason to dance.
Cabaret at The Kit Kit Club is booking to December, with the current cast in place until the end of May. For more info and to snag tickets, hit the website.
