Rob Wickings's Blog, page 14
March 25, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 11
This week: short things, fake bands and two things which end up buried. Must crack on, busy weekend, got a lady to spoil.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
As part of Reading Writers’ upcoming Not The Booker Prize night, in which we celebrate novels with terrible plots, awful characters and frankly unbelievable plots, I’ve launched into a childhood favourite—Jack Williamson’s 1947 SF potboiler The Legion Of Space. It’s a wild ride. When readers say they don’t like science fiction, this is the sort of thing they mean. I love it, but it’s utterly indefensible.
Rob is watching…
Bobby Fingers builds a diorama of the moment Michael Jackson caught on fire while shooting a Pepsi commercial. You have no idea where this is going. Just admire the sheer commitment to the bit.
Rob is listening…
To Lucero. Rock n roll for the end times. Seemed to suit my mood this week.
Rob is eating…
The extraordinary feat of food engineering that is frozen cauliflower cheese. It comes out of the bag in solid white lumps, resembling a building material rather than a foodstuff. A half-hour in the oven and lo! Proper, actual, al dente cauli in a smooth, piquant sauce with some bubbly brown bits. You could fancy it up with a bit of extra grated parm or even a dust of breadcrumbs. Stir in some cooked spirali for the ultimate food hug, Cauli Mac and Chee. Remind me why I’ve been dicking around with roux and bechamel for so long…
The discussions over AI-generated art continues to rumble and groan and spit hot takes like a dormant volcano waking up. Music creation has become part of the discussion. It’s simple enough to write a pop song—many of the classics use the same three chords in a simple blues turnaround which would take any expert system moments to analyse and duplicate. Is it real? Does it matter? I’m reminded of the old argument about the validity of fake bands, which still had the human touch however little the collar matched the cuffs. There are skilled writers and musicians behind most of these songs. It takes a lot of work to make something this throwaway.
A discussion was had on one of my WhatsApp groups this week over how painfully long films are getting. This week sees the release of John Wick 4, weighing in at a hefty near-three hours. I find it hard to muster up the enthusiasm for a trip to the flicks when it’s going to take up a whole afternoon or evening. I set out a position that the films and writing I prefer are short and snappy. 90 minutes is perfect for a film, and a novel is best when you can fit it in a back pocket of your jeans. Do you agree, Readership? I’d love to know what your best short films and books are.
Two in a row from the Guardian, yes, I know, hand me that tofu. But some very valid points are made in this bit from Jan Grue about fictional villains. It seems you can tell the bad guy or girl just by looking at them, and that’s starting to be a problem. I mean, it was always a problem. It’s just taken us a while to open up and start talking about it.
Jason Diamond in The Melt absolutely nails my feelings on the nature of film colour. So many shows and films nowadays have the same muted palette, or the dreaded ‘teal-and-orange’ aesthetic. We have the technology to create any look we want, so why is it so difficult to be distinctive? I was looking at some post-war Powell and Pressberger films at work this week, shot in three-strip Technicolor. They didn’t look realistic, but they really pinged off the screen.
Christopher Fowler passed. He was a fantastic writer, of course—I recommend his Bryant And May novels wholeheartedly as great examples of elegant, nippy crime stories (short and to the point, too). He was also a Soho figure of the old school. Larger than life and all too human. Joanne Harris remembers her friend.
Names have power. Give your character the right moniker and you’ve already set up some of what and who they are. Dickens understood this implicitly. Neal Stephenson even parodied the idea by naming the MC of his breakthrough novel Snow Crash Hiro Protagonist.
The greatest product review in the history of all product reviews. Tell me you don’t agree with every word in the next link.
There was a lot of gloom in the feeds this week as new studies on climate change gave dire final warnings on the state of the Anthropocene Era. Perhaps, though, we need to see these alerts not as a reason to batten down the hatches but to step up, stand tall and see the advantages. Change is inevitable. We should not be afraid of it.
In further commitment to the bit news, we have to raise a glass and our swords to Wayne Chambliss, a performance artist who took the idea of the metal detectorist to a natural end point. Read the whole thing. The end is a kicker.
A Dress Rehearsal For The Afterlife
It makes sense to offer The Last Word to Cory Doctorow. He has a new book out which as ever ties in to his ongoing fight against corporate land grabs on your thoughts and art. If you like audiobooks, this one is for you, because you’re probably locked into a system which ensures writers and creators get the worst possible deal in order to have a chance of reaching you.
As part of the lady-spoiling operation mentioned above, TLC are braving That London today for a trip to the theatre. We’ve snagged tickets to the Kit Kat Klub with a table close enough to the stage to reach out and touch Sally Bowles. I’ve resisted the temptation to put on my suit. It’s by Hugo Boss. Possibly a little too on the nose…
See you in seven, true believers.
March 18, 2023
The Gift Of Salt
Joe is always trying to give me stuff. He is a generous and sweet-natured soul, and I cherish our relationship—even though it feels like I’m taking advantage. Over the years, he’s given me a beautiful tech-useful messenger bag, a set of quite useful kitchen knives, several bottles of seriously good bourbon. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve them—or him, for that matter.
On our last visit up to the Midlands to see him and TLC’s mum, he wanted to give me some salt. Bog standard, bulk-buy free-flow salt. The sort that comes in 750g containers the shape of which, if cast in steel, you could load into a howitzer and fire at the enemy.
Of course, I turned him down. Partly out of embarrassment at always being the taker, but come on, seriously. Why should I, a man of culinary taste and refined manners, allow horrible basic salt within a country mile of the hallowed ground that is my kitchen?
I have plenty of good salt. I love my salt. I am by birth an Essex boy, so there’s usually a box of Maldon’s finest on the counter. A current favourite is Sal de Portugal, a flaky soft salt in a sweet ceramic pinch pot. That, along with most of my saline solutions, comes from the savvy cook’s best kept secret—TK Maxx. If you need Himalayan pink salt, there are groaning shelf-fulls of the stuff. Then there’s the fancy blends and mixes the collector in me can’t resist. Old Bay seasoning, Montreal Steak blend, the stuff I make from dried mushrooms blended with Maldon and just a touch of MSG (which is something for a whole other blog post).
Salt is vital. You need a gram of it a day to live. It’s the first word in the title of Samin Nosrat’s bible of kitchen essentials. One of the worst crimes you can commit in Masterchef or Great British Menu is to under-season your food. One of the reasons restaurant food tastes so good? Much more salt than you’d consider feasible. OK, far too much butter and cream too, but good food needs a heavy hand with the salt pig.
Once upon a long ago, salt was so important that ownership of a decent stash was a sign of wealth and status. At the lord’s table, your place in the pecking order was predicated by where you were sitting in relation to the salt bowl, which was normally in the middle. If you were below the salt, you were on the same level of importance as livestock. Which brings back a childhood memory of an old Steeleye Span album my parents used to play regularly.
The salt at the lord’s table had value which was reflected in the work required to get it in that bowl. Similarly, my Maldon and Sal de Portugal costs much more than Joe’s howitzer-shell of salinity. But much of that cost nowadays comes down to processing and, let’s be frank, marketing. We expect to pay more for fancy salt in fancy packaging. Fundamentally, though, they are chemically identical to the stuff I throw in the dish-washer and water-softener. It’s all sodium chloride.
I was, as I hope some of you have realised already, not just being a snob when I refused Joe’s offer. I was an idiot. Why on earth should I use fancy finishing salts for every seasoning job in the kitchen? It’s wasteful and expensive.
If I want to build a dough for salt-crust baking a celeriac, some lamb or a whole sea bass, the free-flow stuff is fine. I could use piles of it to prop up delicate, wobbly items like oysters for a blast under the grill. Or for salting pasta water, ffs. In a worst case scenario, it would come in handy to de-ice the slippery bit by the front door. Whatever happened, I would be better off with the salt than without it.
Therefore, two minutes after turning down Joe’s offer, I came to my senses, humbly apologised and asked if it was still on the table. Fortunately, Joe was more of a gentleman than I had been. I accepted his gift with thanks. Then I made a promise not be such a moron in future.
The lesson to take from all this? Firstly and most importantly, get over yourself. Don’t assume you’re better than the gift. Chances are, it’s offered with love. You should never turn your back on that.
All ingredients have a purpose. It’s down to you, as a cook, to find what that may be. Stress-test your assumptions and prejudices. Don’t sneer at the basics. Play. Explore. Enjoy. Your food and your cookery will be all the better for it.
March 11, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 10
There’s a vicious scrape on the back of my right hand. We bought a new aluminium growhouse for seeds and seedlings, which arrived last week. It’s very smart but of course, I have to put it together. Big boy Meccano. Fiddly but fun. Less so when you run the sharp edge of one of the struts across your paw while getting it out of its box. Not the best of starts.
Still, the gouge is healing nicely—recovery would be quicker if it wasn’t in a place where I can’t help but fiddle with it. And the growhouse is only half built. It’ll be worth it in the end. The best projects need a small injection of work, swearing and a smear of blood-sacrifice to the gods of construction.
Also, I look double-hard now.
In this chapter—ruminations on snacks and leftovers and more than the usual amount of whinging about getting old.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Neil Gaiman and Mark Buckingham’s The Silver Age, picked up and rebuilt from an abortive attempt to publish in the 90s. It’s beautifully crafted, but a bit meandering. I could do with less soap opera and more, yannow, story. Still very much a look, especially if you’re interested in the mythology of Miracleman.
Rob is watching…
Mechanical principles expressed in Lego. Very soothing.
Rob is listening…
to The Tedeschi Trucks Band. The music Derek Trucks coaxes from his SG is nothing short of other-worldly, tapping into Indian and African traditions. It’s all so damn soulful.
Rob is eating…
Glop. Well, OK, not just glop. But we should relish the idea that a burger is not a burger without the condiments.
Featured image by ArtBear: @ArtBear@mastodonapp.uk
I do not believe in the phrase ‘guilty pleasure’. If something gives you joy, why should you feel a pang of guilt about it? Embrace your bliss, I say. I will not judge your taste in the weird combos of protein and carb you desire when the need is greatest. I will not speak of the unspeakable abomination I fall upon with squeaks and grunts of pleasure at my most ragged moments. A boy needs his secrets.
Rat Snack, and you been caught
I have long been a fan of Michael Marshall Smith—his novels Only Forward and Spares are lean, sharp and pleasingly surreal jolts of cyberpunky goodness, but his bibliography is long and wide. I’ve read several of his thrillers without realising they were his until the author’s note at the end. On his Substack, he talks about how lashups and leftovers have brought us some of the most popular fast foods around. It’s telling how many of them involve late nights, a little too much booze and a harried chef forced to fall back on their imagination…
Handbrake turn into something a little more cultural. I love this bit on the ferocious Artemesia Gentileschi, which compares her version of Judith With The Head Of Holofernes to the more male-gazey takes on the subject from male contemporaries. Her picture just has so much more drama to it.
Steven Cook is doing great work over at Secret Oranges. I love his insights and memories of the 80s British comic scene. In this bit, he offers up some personal stories of an old family friend. I think we all would have enjoyed Arthur’s company.
I’ve become openly fascinated this year with the mechanics and operations of restaurant front-of-house. It’s easy to glamourise and mythologise a chef, but a waiter or maitre-d’? All they have to do is bring out the food. Right? Yeah, there’s a lot more to it. Essentially, hospitality is the fine art of herding cats. Hungry cats.
In 1961 America nearly lost a chunk of North Carolina to a nuclear accident. One man saved the day (and, let’s be frank, the country) with an act of selfless bravery which would cost him everything. We should all know more about Lt. Jack Revelle.
I am getting older, and with that comes the inevitable sense the world is no longer mine. I don’t like the music. I find the entertainment strange and confusing. More and more, I fall back on the tunes and culture I grew up with. I don’t want to be this way, but I suppose it’s inevitable. Like Mehret Biruk, I have discovered the vibe is off.
In further considerations of the unstoppable progress of time and change, ND Stevenson looks back over a tumultuous few years. Honestly, if I’d been through half of what Nate has, I’d be tired too.
I don’t want to end this week on a low. So let’s all enjoy some rotating sandwiches.
The Outro is thrown open to Sault, the mysterious and wildly prolific collective who released five albums in one day in November 2022. The music is neo-soul, hella funky, thoughtful and radical in expression and philosophy. Big music in every sense of the word. I share Untitled (God), one of the newest records, for your appreciation. It feels somehow timeless, which I guess given the thoughts on age and mortality we’ve shared this time around, kinda makes sense.
I’m off to finish the growhouse. See you in seven, true believers.
March 4, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 9
I am the worst haggler in the world. The traders in the Moroccan souks would have a field day with me. A lamb amongst lions. So when I was forced by the threat of a big rate hike to call my broadband supplier and negotiate a better deal, panic was my default setting. Hate phones. Hate haggling. What could go right?
People, with the upcoming bill-bump coming in April, now is the time to give your supplier a ring. If Virgin were anything to go by, they want you to call. Hell, while I was on hold they were already offering discounts. Twenty minutes of idle chat and no pressure cut my bills by 25% for the year. I’d feel proud if I didn’t honestly believe I had nothing to do with it but pick up the phone.
There’s probably a lesson here about embracing your fear and doing it anyway, but it would be crass and trite of me to do anything so obvious. I’ll take the smug points for making a positive contribution to the household budget, though.
This week: tots! Getting your tweak off! And let’s all enjoy the life and times of Big Larry.
Featured image via Dominic Wade.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Duerr. From the guy who brought us the incredible World War 2 drama The Light We Cannot See, this is—very different. A whirling time-travel epic ranging from Ancient Greece to the far future, it seems to be about the enduring power of the story. It’s a bit hard to tell where the tale is leading, but I do feel like I’m in safe hands and am thoroughly enjoying the ride.
Rob is watching…
Two of my favourites are back with third seasons on the streamers—Picard on Amazon Prime (thank gawd, I didn’t want to spend out on a subscription to Paramount Plus when I barely use the services I’ve got) and The Mandalorian on D+. Both are heavy on the fan service. Picard in particular goes hard on winks to The Next Generation in typography and music cues. The Mandalorian, meanwhile, is exploring characters and themes from the animated shows like Rebels and The Clone Wars. I never followed them but for a younger generation which includes my 20 year-old nephew Ali, those programmes are Star Wars. I won’t complain. The show is just so darn good, I’m happy to let the odd deep cut reference go over my head.
Rob is listening…
to M83’s new album, Fantasy Part One. This is big, swoopy widescreen music, made to soundtrack slow-motion drone footage of crashing waves under towering cliffs or a fast run over the ridge of a snow-capped mountain. Extremely cinematic (M83 wrote the music for the underrated Tom Cruise SF movie Oblivion), I got a sharp taste of eighties synth-pop (the guitar sound is very Flock Of Seagulls) with, towards the end, strong vibes of Beck’s Morning Phase period. Give it a go as driving music, it’s a rush.
Rob is eating…
The remains of a massuman curry stuffed into a pitta with some cheese and extra hot sauce and warmed through in a griddle until toasty and gooey. A lunch for cold weather and, if you crimp up the edges of the flatbread, eats in a way weirdly reminiscent of a spicy Cornish pasty.
Reading Writers ran a recent member-led session on education in creative writing, with a specific focus—can an informal group like ours offer different perspectives on the wordly life that a degree course can’t? We came to the conclusion that a community-based approach, without a fixed end point could be valuable. Obviously it helps to offer solid, non-judgemental feedback. More on that from Eugene Yan.
It frequently embuggerates me that tater tots are not more widely available in British supermarkets. To my knowledge, only Morrisons offer them, sneakily disguised as ‘potato crunchies’. We have to settle for hash browns which are, my friends, not the same. What’s a boy to do when he wants his tots? Well, I guess I could try the Bon Appetit kitchen approach and make my own…
Exercise is good for the soul. We all know it. But if you’re like me, finding the motivation to get up and move can be difficult, especially in a damp English winter. Thing is, when I do pull my boots on and have an amble, I immediately feel better. Clearer of head, calmer of soul. Brendan at Semi-Rad calls it ‘getting your tweak off’. It’s not just about physical health, ya know.
Of course the theme park dedicated to all things Miyazaki would be the antithesis of Disney or Universal. No rides. No major attractions. Tucked away in an existing public park. It’s utterly, utterly perfect and I wanna go.
When browsing in a bookshop, I use the ‘three paragraphs’ rule—that’s how long an author has to hook me. Don’t muck about, grab me by the scruff and drag me in. Adam Sternburgh offers his five strongest openings in fiction. Mine? I’d instantly throw in the openings to William Gibson’s Neuromancer, Hunter Thompson’s Fear And Loathing In Los Angeles, Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire, Iain Banks’ The Crow Road and Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn. I’m sure you have your favourites. Let me know what they are in the comments.
Another top five angling towards a very important question—your very favourite sandwich. It should be an impossible question to answer. Your favourite sandwich is the one you want at a given moment. The times when all I need is a peanut butter and lime curd are different to the times when I crave a Tuna Turner from Shed in Reading which are different to the times when all I want all I really really want is a simple, beautiful grilled cheese with strong cheddar and a smear of hot English mustard. Again, your turn. Go.
Of course, a burger is not a sandwich. But where do we put the glorious pleasure of a patty melt?
Let us consider To The Lighthouse, and more specifically how we have mapped our own feelings and meanings onto the text. You could say that about any beloved story, but Virginia Woolf’s magnum opus does have a way of sneaking into our heads, kicking off its boots and making itself at home.
Margaret Atwood has a Substack. Who knew? Not I, who let out a delighted squeal when the knowledge was brought to me. There are many treasures to find, none shining more brightly than this celebration of her pal Big Larry. I feel sad never to have met him.
Speaking of gigantic, terrifying personalities—Nina Simone.
If I’d Had My Way, I’d Have Been A Killer
Let’s throw The Last Word to Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, the producers who built, polished and delivered the sound of 90s R&B—slick, machine-driven, but still loaded with soul. Anil Dash explores the methods they used to bring the flavour.
Incidentally, I’m always fascinated by the way chefs and musicians will describe their art with reference to the other discipline. Jamie Oliver talks about adding a hum of garlic. Countless others will throw in a twang of lemon. And how do we describe musicians getting together for a little musical improvisation? A jam.
M’lud, the prosecution rests.
I’m sticking with Janet Jackson for The Outro, because I haven’t played Rhythm Nation in years and it rocks my house to the foundations every single time. Stand up, count time. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
See you in seven, true believers.
February 25, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 8
There’s something about this time of year which makes you want to just—get past it. If the only events to look forward to are Valentine’s Day and an excuse to have pancakes for tea, we could be excused for hibernating until National Peanut Butter Lover’s Day*. But there are quiet pleasures to be had. We planted a load of bulbs in our front border in the autumn, and now they’re poking their questing noses above ground sniffing for fresh air. Days are slowly lengthening, there are buds on the trees. I bought a few packets of seeds at the weekend for early planting. Cucumbers, radishes, might even see about some tomatoes. I can feel the motor of the world starting to run again.
In this chapter, which promises to be much less angry than last week—the crossroads, the dance, and the house which is a computer. Oh, and tea, because there’s always time for tea.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Featured image is part of the collection of concept art for Disney’s Robin Hood, by Ken Anderson. More here.
* 1st March.
Rob is reading…
I finally caught up with the final part of Wonder Woman: Historia, written by Kelly Sue Deconnick working with an all-star cast of incredible artists. Part mythological retelling, part origin story, the three volumes are intense, angry and clear-eyed about the role of women in fiction and reality. Phil Jimenez, Gene Ha and Nicola Scott take Kelly Sue’s scripts and take them to otherworldly realms of beauty and imagination. If you can, shell out for a physical copy. Just look at this…
From Issue 1, art by Phil Jimenez. Trust me, it gets wilder from here.Rob is watching…
Catherine Called Birdy, on Amazon Prime. Written and directed by Lena Dunham, it’s the story of 14-year-old Catherine, a medieval princess who faces a terrible fate as her impoverished father tries to marry her off to the highest bidder. As Catherine, also called Birdy, Bella Ramsay brings all the charm, sweetness and hidden fire we’ve seen in The Last Of Us, while Andrew Scott as her lordly dad beautifully portrays a blend of anger, panic and vulnerability—he’s trying to save the family home in the only way he can, while Birdy does everything in her power to scupper his plans. Funny, moving, grubby and surprisingly dark, this is a fun choice for your Saturday movie night that’s smarter than the average.
Rob is listening…
To Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Specifically the 1981 recording by Glenn Gould. Yeah, colour me as surprised as you that classical music has made it onto The Swipe. It popped up as a suggestion via Flow State and I thought, why not, I’m a grown now, give it a go.
You know what? It’s lovely. An exploration of what can be done with a single piece of music and possibly one of the earliest examples of a remix. It’s whimsical, playful, exploratory and utterly joyful. Gould’s interpretation is slower and more thoughtful than the 1958 concert which made his name, but all the richer for it. Listen out and you can hear him humming and crooning along, as lost in the music as I was.
Yes, I know, extremely late to the party, but at least I made it eventually.
Rob is eating…
The Guinness Fondue Burger from Honest, which is even filthier than you think. Do not enter into a relationship with this monster unless you want to feel gleeful shame about your life choices. Limited edition, so if you want to indulge get to Honest (the Reading restaurant is one of my favourite naughty hangouts) sharpish.
I’ve always been drawn to border territories and crossways. I was born in Walthamstow, the liminal zone between London and Essex. I live in Reading, a place where the Thames and Kennet cross. These are locations where I imagine possibilities come to the surface, where choices on direction can be made, a lesser-trodden path trodden. The crossroads are, of course, places of myth and magical occurrence, as Ted Gioia explores in this extract from his latest book.
Empathy in history. It’s a thing. Now, before you start tossing the W-word around like it’s an insult (I identify as a tofu-eatin’ Guardian-readin’ wokerati, so I’ll take your diss and chuck it right back at you covered in sparkles and glitter) consider what empathy actually means. Don’t think that we are more intelligent than our ancestors, just because of the swankier toys. There have always been smart folk around. They just had to do more with less.
Empathy, empathy, they’ve all got it empathy...
The Situation has, according to many in the restaurant business, poisoned the way customers and service staff interact. It’s as if two years off has reset our ability to act with common decency when we go out for dinner. I don’t understand the hostility, but then I have worked (briefly) in food service and I am always on the side of the wait staff and kitchen crew. It’s a tough job, and the least we as customers can do is be pleasant and polite to the good folk making sure we have a good night.
This next one goes out to everyone who has endured a painfully drawn-out game of Monopoly. We should remember it was designed as a game to show the evils of capitalism. The winner is the player who chooses to embrace their inner bastard landlord.
How To Win At Monopoly And Lose All Your Friends
Is the future of computing really AI, or is there a different, more collaborative, less creepy path we can take? When I look at a project like Dynamicland, which brings people and a computing environment together in fresh and startling ways, I feel a bit more hopeful about the way ahead.
Here’s a great piece of illustrative journalism, following a day in the life of New York Metro acrobat Sony Jayy. Molly Crabapple’s pen-and-ink pics really bring this story to life. I’m not a fan of tube buskers, but this feels like a step up.
I’m cutting back on coffee at work. It was becoming clear that the energy benefits in the morning were not worth the afternoon twitches. Tea is the drink of choice now, specifically a nice cup of rooibos. I feel generally more centred and focussed. And my sleep patterns have improved. I still like a flat white or two at the weekend, but for the foreseeable, I agree with the sentiments listed below.
There is a cure for hiccups. It works for almost everyone. Why has this not been shouted from the rooftops? Well, in my case, it’s because I don’t have a long enough ladder, so consider this a clarion call.
Rock history can be found in the humblest of places. In the example below, a Dodge Van used by grunge heroes The Melvins (still recording, rolling their 40th anniversary tour through the UK this June) is dozing in a garage in Olympia, Washington State. The van’s sometimes driver may be of interest, too.
The Last Word goes to Gordon Meakes at The Quietus, who has just got round to watching Blade Runner 2049. His observations on the film and sequel culture in movies as a whole is spot-on when we consider how cinema specifically and art in general is struggling to pull out of a nostalgia-fuelled death-spiral. Or, as Gordon puts it—
Blade Runner 2049, a film released in 2017 about a film set in 2019 made in 1982, is where we are at in cultural history. Not just in film, in music, in pop culture, but in time itself. We are now in the afterlife, where things are not about themselves anymore but about other things that have already happened or been made.
We Outro with OK Go, kings of the overly-complex music video. They go full Rube Goldberg (Heath Robinson if you’re nasty) on a show which is a feast for the eyes and ears. As becomes obvious at the end, this one is no one-take wonder.
See you in seven, true believers.
February 18, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 7
I had an invite this week to a potential college reunion, which has led to all sorts of conflicted ruminations. There are some friends from the course I’d like to see again, and others who I’ve unwittingly collaborated with professionally. The strangest thing is, folks are popping up on the inevitable WhatsApp group whose names and faces I honestly don’t recognise. That’s what 35 years will do for you, I guess. Images of Gross Pointe Blank are swimming around my head. Can you—should you—ever go back?
Food for thought while we consider the business of the day. In this chapter: Bond! Miyazaki! Buzz Aldrin! And an Outro which may (at the time of writing) not feature a major musical figure who’s died!
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
The Galaxy And The Ground Within by Becky Chambers. She has a way of normalising the alien, bringing a sense of comfort and empathy to worlds and races at the very brink of the imagination. You don’t really get villains in Becky’s books. Just characters with different sets of values and motivations which bring them to sadly inevitable conflict. She’s great on how natural disasters can, through tragedy, have unexpected societal results. Brilliant, smart, grown-up space opera which I can’t recommend highly enough.
Rob is watching…
Great British Menu, which is the closest I get to a reality-TV hate watch. The food is over-complex and hooked to under-thought out themes. It’s especially annoying because the overarching idea of this year’s banquet—celebrating British animation and illustration—is right up my backyard. But the chefs seem to have little interest in the field, which leads to a tranche of dishes inspired by just a few authors and film-makers. It’s all Wallace And Gromit and Ronald Dahl illustrated by Quentin Blake. Where’s The Beano? Where’s 2000AD? That and the worrying return of foams, smoke and goo to the menu sets my teeth to grind. But somehow I can’t stop watching.
Rob is listening…
To this brilliant Spotify playlist, which was my V-Day soundtrack. Full of proper pop bangers and screw-you anthems, it’s deliciously cruel and cold. I’d never listened to Beyoncé’s Irreplaceable properly before. Wow. Brutal.
Rob is eating…
Morrison’s do a pack of red onion bhajis in the fresh cabinet which are the size and shape of a decent quarter-pound burger. Griddled, with a quick sauce of yogurt mixed with grated garlic, ginger, mango chutney and sauce, and stuffed into a warm paratha, it’s a fine thing to eat with a pile of fries. I wouldn’t dare call it a Bombay Burger, cos Nadiya got there first.
The ever-contentious movie sex scene is, through the introduction of intimacy co-ordinators, becoming a safer space for performers. But how about the equally vulnerable moments when you’re expected to open up and cry for the camera? Not every actor can turn on the waterworks when the clapperboard drops. So how do they do it?
Obviously, you won’t be able to read the next bit and be able to create the astonishing and instantly recognisable work of Hazao Miyazaki. But a little insight into the tools and processes used from the man himself has to be of interest. Of course, he can’t help but make a beautiful artifact out of what is a very basic artist’s shopping list…
John Higgs’ latest, on the remarkable cultural cross point which birthed the sixties—the release on the same day of The Beatles ‘Love Me Do’ and the first Bond movie Dr. No—is a seriously eye-opening read. In this extract, Higgs looks at the year it took Ian Fleming to come up with one of the most influential fictional characters of all time.
Content warning for corporal punishment and sexual cruelty.
I have never read a word written by Colleen Hoover. I’m in the minority, by the looks of it. She is, to a jobbing wannabe like myself, an incredible inspiration, going from self-publication to world-wide domination in an eye-blink. I’m obviously writing for the wrong audience.
John Cleese’s announcement of a Fawlty Towers reboot was met with a giant wave of eye-rolling and indifference. Why go back and try to catch that lightning in a bottle again? Without co-creator Connie Booth, the whole thing seems as pointless as Blackadder without Rowan Atkinson. However, there is one interesting direction in which you could take Fawlty Towers, as John Bull imagines…
If you ever needed an example of someone not getting the note about dress code, well, take it away, Buzz.
It’s Buzz Aldrin’s World, We’re Just Living In It
In the face of the endless attacks on a tiny, vulnerable percentage of the world population by the usual horrible gobshites, honking out scare tactics and dog whistles, it’s somehow cheering to see a robust defence offered by, of all places, The New York Times. This is the article I urge you to read this week, wherever you stand on the issue which has become the hottest of political hot potatoes.
The discourse on AI, particularly with the sky-rocketing popularity of ChatGPT and its inclusion into search engines, has become, frankly, deranged. It’s either Skynet or the birth of a golden age of interaction and communication. Thankfully, author Ted Chiang is here to cut through the foolishness and pull back the curtain. As ever, it’s not the technology that’s the problem, but how we choose to use it…
A recommend from one of The Readership is very welcome. Our pal Kelly has flagged up a doozy from Patricia Lockwood, which is both hilarious and horrible. I’ll let you go in cold, because you’re not going to see which way this piece is going until it takes a sudden swerve down an unexpected off-ramp.
Paul Ford gets The Last Word with this incisive piece on the future of social networks, as Elno seems intent on ripping the lungs out of his latest toy. It includes the best description of the fediverse I’ve read so far. The whole article is strangely positive on the state of social. People move on. Kinda makes sense. Whither MySpace?
Until recently, the majority of links posted here and on The Cut would have been picked up via Twitter. That’s no longer the case, and I’m visiting less and less often. Newsletters, Mastodon and places like Reddit and Tumblr are richer, happier sources and much more fun to hang out. I don’t have the Elno-sized cojones to claim my undocking from the platform is the tipping point of its collapse, but if my experience and reaction are replicated by a big enough percentage of users… well, we’ll see. Twitter has lost 9% of its revenue since Elno took over. Let that sink in.
The Outro comes, in a delightful change from the last few weeks, from a living artist. Jonathon Bree’s chamber-pop instincts and flair for the surreal and theatrical make him number one in a field of one. He’s playing a single date in the UK this spring, which I plan to attend. His latest album features contributions from The Hit-Maker himself, Nile’s Rodger’s. I present Jonathon’s greatest hit, the opening to which was my ringtone for more time than I care to admit.
See you in seven, true believers.
February 11, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 6
Valentine’s Day is looming, which for the sensible romantic means one thing–finding the best supermarket meal deal (preferably complete with wine) so you and your beloved can settle in for a quiet evening, shunning the scrum of amateurs who feel they have to be performative about a date night. If you’re a Co-op member there are some cracking choices for sixteen quid, I hear.
But before I don the silk undies and grip a rose between my teeth, there is the matter of this week’s Swipe to offload. For you, because I love you, enjoy some unusual architecture, The Books That Belong On The Shelf With No Name and some thoughts on happiness.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
I don’t think you ever read the Tao Te Ching. It’s more a guideline for life, a map to our interior spaces. Short thought-bombs to consider and answer as honestly as you can–with the understanding the answer might not be correct or may even change the next time the question is asked. I have Ursula Le Guin’s translation/reframing on my bedside table, and try to read a random koan whenever I feel the need for a little soul food. Speaking of which…
The things of this world exist, they are;
From Chapter 2 of the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu, Ursula K. LeGuin translation, 1997.
you can’t refuse them.
To bear and not to own; to act and not lay claim;
to do the work and let it go:
for just letting it go
is what makes it stay.
Rob is watching…
Lockwood & Co. 70s dystopian British kid’s TV meets Ghostbusters. Ex-Adam And Joe Joe Cornish knows his genre, understand what works and how to twist the material to keep things interesting. Kudos for having mad scientist George (played with the right level of goofy charm by Ali Hadji-Heshmati) relax with a vintage copy of The Galaxy’s Greatest Comic, 2000AD. The show is impeccably acted, propulsive and hella creepy—in a good way.
Rob is listening…
To acid house. I won’t say going back to my roots, but it was a scene when I was at the age when I could have gone raving. It really wasn’t my thing. I was a rock kid at college. It’s only now I’ve grown up that I can start to admire the music. Deliberately simple, repetitive but evolving beats, textures and structures which lead the listener or devotee to a very specific headspace. I’m not one for sweaty crowded clubs, so I believe I’ll never hear the music in the way it was intended. It’s great driving tunage, though.
Rob is eating…
Zurek.
I’ve featured the writings of Failed International Rock Star Michael M in a previous edition of The Cut. He posts very sparsely, but when he does it’s worth the wait. Here are some stories of wild times he spent with his band We Are The Physics recording sessions for BBC local radio, and the particular challenges they can present…
The Cultural Tutor asked their Readership to show each other (and us, as interested bystanders) some favourite examples of local architecture. There are some gems in the resulting collection, which ranges from Rochester in Kent to Tegucigalpa, Honduras. Drink this lot in.
Swearing. We all do it. Yes, you do, don’t fib. Especially when you’re behind the wheel of a car. Shocking, I tells you. Shocking. As the joy of the curse word has been a part of our linguistic armoury since we had a language to speak of (no pun intended) surely we should embrace and celebrate this important element of communication. Fuck yes, of course we should.
While we’re on the subject, my pal Kim has possibly the best way to say it with swears. Get some for your crafty friends or elderly relatives. You know it makes sense.
The New York Times has an incredible portrait of Wynonna Judd, folowing her on tour following the death of her mother and co-star in country behemoth The Judds, Naomi. It’s a tale of survival, fortitude and grace under the most unbelievable pressure. If you don’t know much about The Judds and their music, you’re going to want to know more after reading this.
Content warning for self-harm and suicide.
Here is your biweekly reminder to snag a subscription to Vittles. No other food-based newsletter is doing it as well, as throughly or as sweetly as this. Who’s for a pint?
Nine Ways Of Looking At A Pint Of Guinness
One good thing about making The Swipe a personal statement is that I can be more vocal about the things which matter to me. For example, the appalling clusterfuck of Brexit, which has set this country back decades in everything from trade to international reputation to the state of our politics to the North/South/young/old divide to…
You get the idea.
Stefaan De Rynck, aide to the European team tasked with negotiating Brexit, takes us through the bumper-car ride which led to a conclusion which seems far from settled. This is a very different view from the one presented to us in the UK press.
If after reading that you feel the urge to bash the heck out of something, I can recommend a go on a good old fashioned manual typewriter. Five minutes on an Olivetti will crack the knots out of your knuckles. An upcoming book on all things keyboard really digs into the piece of hardware which has become the primary communication vector or the 21st century. We use ’em every day in many different forms.
I’m delighted to announce the Kickstarter for Shift Happens has gone live, smashing the funding target in a little over 24 Hours. It’s a bit of a treat package, but if you’re as obsessed with the interface between brain, hand and machine, you may just find you’re worth it.
I was chatting to a pal at Reading Writers the other day (hey, Kelli!) about genre. More specifically, how you decide or even know what genre your story slots into. The good news is, it doesn’t have to fit at all. There’s always room on The Shelf With No Name!
The Books That Belong On The Shelf With No Name
Let us move back to the sweary side of town and spend a little time with Sam Delaney, ex lad-mag editor. He’s been through the wringer, seen it all, done most of it. A man of appetite and uncontrollable urges which were not so gently destroying him. He got a grip and found a way through, in his own way. He’s great at decoding some of the faux-spiritual nonsense which passes for mental health advice. The ideas are fine. It’s the definition which could use some work…
The Last Word goes to author Helen Garner, who at the age of 80 has come to a few conclusions on the pursuit and maintenance of happiness. It’s a little shot of calm wisdom to close out this chapter. I took a lot from it. I hope you do too.
My plea last week for a week without the loss of a great musical figure was met with the disdain and belligerent cruelty I should perhaps have expected from The Powers That Be. One of the true greats moved over on Thursday, which admittedly gave me the excuse to put a long list of incredible songs on my never-ending playlist. Feels appropriate for Annual Restaurant, Card and Flower Shop Appreciation Day to run the credits over this one, from a woman who knew all about the beauty and brutality of love. So long, Burt. You did us proud.
See you in seven, true lovers.
February 4, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 5
And we blink, and it’s February. This time last week I was starting to twitch about the Reading Writers launch at Tutu’s in Palmer Park. Very happy to report it went off without a hitch. Stories were read. Wine was imbibed. Cakes and sandwiches just kept on coming. Fine times were had.
Now we have business to address. Saturday rolls around and there are links to be shared. This week—fonts! Bots made of spam! A big chunk of fiction! And several more! You know the deal by now.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
(featured image via @69Scars on Twitter).
Rob is reading…
ND Stevenson. Particularly his 2023 Hourly Comics, which are thoughtful on the creative process while also managing a light observational humour which seems effortless and I can guarantee is not.
Rob is watching…
This. Take ten minutes and you’ll never look at films in the same way again.
Rob is listening…
To George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass. It’s a huge, dense chewy piece of work, made all the more remarkable as this collection of incredible songs were rejected or sidelined by the Beatles. Lavish production and an extended run time (it’s a triple album after all) make this a record to take your time with.
Rob is eating…
Home-made comfort food. Spicy breaded chicken nuggets made with thigh pieces, breaded with the crumbs I blitz out of the ends of our sandwich loaves and stash in the freezer. Haddock in a tempura batter sizzling to perfection in our tiny deep-fat fryer, with double-cooked chips. It’s a messy job but seriously worth it.
Deanna Dikeman has taken a simple moment that all children see and turned it into a moving exercise in love, the passage of time and inevitable mortality. The last picture hit me like a train. I suspect it will wallop you too.
Some musings on design and how a particular font on a particular title or set of books can stick with you for ever. I still own the New English Library editions of the Dune trilogy alluded to in the article below. They are beloved treasures, with a very distinct feel. I do like the use of Davison Art Nouveau, though. It has the right blend of futuristic mysticism. Gods, I’m such a pseud.
Right, time for a shot of profundity. As a species, we have a choice to make. We can choose to be selfish and brutal, oppressing those weaker than ourselves and taking everything we can. Or we can take the brighter path, share, collaborate and unify. Garret Hardin’s The Tragedy Of The Commons takes a bleak view of humanity and its future. However, look at the data properly and a different, far more hopeful picture appears. One quote springs to mind…
Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies – “God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”
Kurt Vonnegut
Do not fear the robots made of meat. They are here to help you. There is no threat from the robots made of meat. If that ever changes, just remember—the robots can be retasked as sandwiches.
I don’t watch any rolling news channels, for good reason. The endless churning need for content creates a monster which will do and say anything for your attention. Heidi Cuda used to be part of the machine which built the monsters. She walked away. What she saw sparks questions about the very nature of rolling news and whether we should allow it any room in our houses or our heads.
A great, long stream on Mastodon from Blake Leyh, who was a music supervisor on The Wire. He tells stories about some of the needle-drops and montage tracks which helped to make the show so powerful and its legacy so enduring.
Big comics drop! Brian K. Vaughn, writer of Saga and Y: The Last Man has been working with artist Niko Henrichon on a book called Spectators, dropping pages weekly for free. The team have wrapped up year one, which is now available for download. Again, I stress, for free. I can strongly recommend this swervy tale of memory, history and sexuality. Fair warning—it’s graphic in every sense of the word. If cartoon depictions of the act of love are not for you, please do not proceed. The rest of you freaks are in for a treat.
Another long read. Look, it’s a grey old weekend. Settle back and read comics and SF like your old pal Rob. Hell, crack a beer. I’ll probably join you. Please to enjoy this cracking tale of superheroes and humanity from Hugo Award winner John Chu. Content warning for racist slurs and violence.
If You Find Yourself Talking To God
We’ve talked about fonts. We’ve talked about comics. What could be better than to squish the two subjects together? The art and science of the humble speech bubble transcends the delivery of text, providing a clever way to create different voices and sonic textures, all happening in a way your brain probably doesn’t even notice. I’m a fan of the way robot voices in 2000AD (usually lettered by the heroic Tom Frame) came in square, chamfer-edged bubbles.
And I can’t move on without posting this image from Thor #353. That’s John Workman’s lettering. Tell me you can’t hear that one word coming from two mighty throats echoing round your skull.
The Last Word concerns itself with those little things loving couples do to keep the relationship cheery and balanced. Those sweet catchphrases and in-jokes which give every day that special glow. This is so heart-warming.
Can we just have one week where artists I love don’t wander off the mortal plane, please? The Outro is turning into a never-ending eulogy fest. This week, Tom Verlaine moved on. If you’re wondering why certain elements of the music press lost their shit about it, let’s just point out Verlaine’s work effectively redefined what rock should sound like. Just as punk was pushing songwriting towards faster, shorter songs Verlaine and his band Television went the other way, keeping the spiky jagged textures and tying them to music with ambition, depth and length. You may not know the name, but I guarantee you know the sound. I suggest we all listen to Marquee Moon this weekend, and consider what we’ve lost and where we go from here.
If you want a proper eulogy, Patti Smith has you sorted.
See you in seven, true believers.
January 28, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 4
Very excited. Today I’ll be spending the afternoon at Tutu’s Ethiopian Table in Palmer Park, Reading with my writing group pals, celebrating the launch of our latest anthology. The Three Bs takes as a theme the three industries which made Reading famous—beer, bulbs and biscuits. (There’s a Fourth B which also gets a mention). We’re very proud of the book, hence the meetup. There will be readings, cake and good times abundant. Late notice, I know, but if you can make it down to the park between 2 and 4 you’d be very welcome.
You can check The Three Bs out as an ebook or paperback here:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09TZ6F3F5
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Kingsley Amis’ Everyday Drinking. A collection of alcohol-forward writings, it’s an approachable and friendly guide to building a better Lost Weekend. Some of the references are out of date, but Kingsley’s knowledge and enthusiasm for the subject shine through. Plenty of sage advice and great recipes, all delivered with wit and panache. I raise a glass to this one.
Rob is watching…
This. New art from my lovely pal Dominic Wade.
Rob is listening…
Right Place, Wrong Time by Dr John. So damn funky. It’s on constant playback in the car, I can’t get enough of it!
Rob is eating…
A simple chickpea and roasted root veg curry has saved my ass a few times this week. With rice, over a jacket spud, it’s friendly, easy and seem to taste better over time. I’m going to clap a puff pastry lid over the leftovers and call it a pie. Yay for weekend batch cooking!
Dinner theatre can be an odd experience—an indifferent meal interrupted by an indifferent production of a so-so play. The Illusionist’s Table sounds like a more interesting way to spend the night, as the two important elements are much more carefully intertwined…
It would be easy to put a link to a Vittles essay in every chapter of The Swipe—the writing is just that good. I couldn’t resist sharing a recent overview on food tattoos, and the reasons for getting them. Some great stories here.
The Smithsonian Museum has opened up its digital archives, giving us permission to freely use millions of images. It’s an incredible treasure trove. Go have a poke around and see what goodies you can find!
I love this collection of out-takes from the sessions behind iconic album cover images. You get the sense a lot of the time things were made up on the fly, or plans were changed in a moment of improvised genius. Fascinating stuff.
Jeff Pearlman is an American sports journalist whose wisdom and insight into his craft is genuinely inspiring. This long read, in which he looks at how memory can play a major factor in how an interview or article plays out is a game-changer, in my view. Trust in your subject may not be enough when you’re looking for the truth…
Ninth Art content incoming, brace for impact. First up, a panel of writers at the recent Emerald City Comic Con chat about their work and how they do that voodoo that they do so well. It’s great when creators open up like this about their process. There’s always some useful nugget you can take away and apply to your own art.
Comics, of course, are not just one thing. There are many ways to tell a story in The Ninth Art. Lee Lai explains more…
Right, one more then we’ll change subject. If you want to read more comics and have a tablet, then streaming or subscription services are an affordable way to binge. Popverse takes us through some of the options. It’s a bit US-centric but still worth a look. I’d point out if you have Amazon Prime, you can use Prime Reading as a sort of library service, and there’s a ton of great comics content in there you can read for free.
The Guardian article which landed this week about book ownership being smug and middle class rightfully got up the noses of smug, middle-class book owners like me. As Lev Parikian points out, you don’t have to spend a fortune to build a library and a book can be with you for a very long time. I like his suggestion of grabbing six books at random from your collection and sharing them. Here are mine…
It’s rare for Jeff Tweedy of Wilco to break the music he’s creating on his newsletter Starship Casual out from behind the paywall. It’s a treat to be able to check out his two takes of Elyse Weinberg’s Houses and hear the differences. Personally, I prefer take two. What do you think?
Just Like A Circle Round The Sun
We hand The Last Word over to Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, who offer up their favourite burger recipes.
I’m handing The Outro over to Róisín Murphy, who released a full show video last week. There are elements of the performance she laid out at festival shows last summer, but this has a bit more polish and control. Throw this on a big screen, crank it up and shake your moneymakers.
See you in seven, true believers.
January 21, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 3
Plenty of long-reads in this week’s edition. It’s cold out. Stay with me, warm and cosy, snuggled up with a dense chunk of fun stuff to amble through.
Today: Minecraft! Milli Vanilli! Balkan Cosmology! And a magnificent sandwich! What more could you ask for?
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Twisted, a 1962 horror anthology edited by the magnificently named Groff Conklin. A nice mix of classics from the likes of Ambrose Bierce and Guy de Maupassant to chillers from Theodore Sturgeon and Ray Bradbury. Come on, just look at that cover!
Rob is watching…
Wednesday on Netflix. I believe this excellent show has nailed the old-school inky, gloomy Addams Family look and feel. The casting is spot on and the whole show is a delight. Of course, getting Tim Burton on board for the first four episodes helped matters no end. If only it didn’t have to be a high school mystery. Did we learn nothing from Sabrina?
Rob is listening…
To Tito Puente. Bouncy Havaniana party music. Snag a mojito and a partner and shake ya tail feathers. ¡Muy caliente!
Rob is eating…
A toasted sourdough sandwich filled with thickly cut corned beef, a strong cheddar and Hawkshead Relish Company’s Chili-liili. I call it a Triple C. Just the sort of bright colourful flavour you want around this time of year. If you was feeling greedy, you could pair the toastie with a mug of tomato soup. Actually, I think I’m feeling greedy.
There is a story at the end of Minecraft. This was a surprise to me. I thought the game was one of those open-ended deals where you go in and dig around and build stuff. As my only experience with Minecraft has been watching my young nephew play while I pretended to understand what was going on, it’s probably not surprising I have no clue about the finer details. But there is a story, which is unskippable and sweetly recontextualises the whole experience of the game. And the story has a story of its own, about friendship and ownership and ultimately, giving the thing you loved away.
And The Universe Said You Are Loved
Controversies are rumbling over AI-generated stills for movies which never existed. I guess it all started with the interest in the greatest movie never made—Alejandro Jodorowsky’s abandoned 12-hour version of Dune. Funding collapsed, but the art and supplemental materials used to visualize the movie were gorgeous and fascinating. Now, with tools like Stable Diffusion, interested parties are using the technology to imagine what that film and others the Cuban visionary didn’t make might look like.
Are people fooled? Well, it’s an easy trap to fall into at a quick glance at the stills. And it’s not just Jodorowsky who’s getting the AI treatment. Following Steampunk Star Wars and others, David Cronenburg’s 1985 sci-fi epic Galaxy Of Flesh is getting fresh attention. Of course, that one is the product of fevered imagination and blokes (yes, of course it’s all blokes) with too much time on their hands. Hilariously, commenters are now calling fake on stillsets of films which do exist, like Roger Corman’s wild Alien rip-off Forbidden World.
My opinion? Well, AI art is already running into massive issues in terms of copyright and appropriation, and a lot of the images do have a certain prog-rock album cover air to them. That’s mostly down to the interests and prompts of the people prompting the machines. The genie is, however, out of the bottle. It’s down to us as to how we use the technology—hopefully as something inspirational, leading down new and unexpected roads rather than retreading the same old paths.
End rant. We live in a world where lipsynching has become a well-loved performance art. That wasn’t always the case. The controversy behind musical pariahs Milli Vanilli shows how much the musical landscape has changed, and why it’s not a good idea to make Grammy judges look like chumps…
Seems like you can get scented candles in any flavour you want—and many you don’t. I remember McDonald’s releasing a set which, burned together, offer up the aroma of a Quarter Pounder. Table top gamers don’t need to miss out. The folks behind bleak future war adventure Warhammer 40,000 have a collection to give your next game night the authentic atmosphere of bone-crunching combat. I’ve linked to my favourite. There are others.
Last week I shared cyberpunk pioneer William Gibson’s first story. This time, here’s the latest from one of his contemporaries and co-author of steam-punk ur-text The Difference Engine, Bruce Sterling. Balkan Cosmology is a wild, picaresque ride which includes the ghost of Nikolai Tesla and a weapon which could destroy the universe with a thought. It’s as dense and nutty as an ice-cold Snickers bar.
I loved Alison Smith’s recollection of the week she spent escorting Ursula K. LeGuin around her college campus as a guest. It shows clearly what a cool person the acclaimed author was, how generous she could be of her time to those who needed it. The whole piece is just so warm and lovely.
David Bentley Hart’s How To Write English Prose is, by default, a long and twisty read. Don’t skim this. Take the time, settle in with it. There’s a lot of great advice on offer and some stunning examples of the best this labyrinthine monster of a language has to offer. Seriously, it’s worth it.
Stevie Wonder. I mean, come on. A giant of music, innovator, inspirator, collaborator. Pioneer of musical synthesis, a mad genius who even today sparks flashes of joy and harmony wherever he goes. Did you know he was also the prime mover behind Martin Luther King day in the USA? It took decades and every ounce of goodwill he could muster, but Stevie’s determination won out. And we get a killer song out of the deal too!
We know John Carpenter as one of the great film stylists. But the man has serious musical chops too, as his iconic soundtracks attest. In semi-retirement he’s enjoying life as a rock star, touring and releasing new records regularly. This is the story of his first band, and the incredibly rare album they sort of released.
The Last Word goes to Chaz Hutton, who has some great advice for the Ninth Art-curious amongst The Readership. There is no excuse not to make comics, even if you can’t draw. Follow along and give it a go!
How To Make Comics When You Can’t Draw
It’s getting to the point where every week we lose another musical heavyweight. This week we say goodbye to David Crosby, whose angelic voice and soulful guitar was such a part of the Laurel Canyon sound. From the Byrds to Crosby Stills and Nash, across decades of solo works, David’s music was never less than glorious. I’m posting up a personal favourite, from CSN’s appearance at Woodstock—my Dad’s copy of the soundtrack album supplied my first exposure to that voice.
See you in seven, true believers.
