Rob Wickings's Blog, page 15
January 14, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 2
Look! A logo! I must be taking the rebrand seriously. I’ll be monetizing the joint next. HI GUYS LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE etc etc. Launching next week—Swipe Blue. A nominal extra charge gets you undefinable ‘benefits’ and the nagging feeling you’re the victim of a big fat con. Kidding. We will always be free at the point of use. I do this for the love of links.
On the subject of which… this week I offer booze, wrestling and cyberpunk’s ground zero. You’re welcome.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
A Waiter In Paris by Edward Chisholm. An interesting take on the Kitchen Confidential genre of food writing. The book flips the focus to front of house, only to show the wait-staff are just as swashbuckling and hard-living as the cooks on the line…
Rob is watching…
Our Flag Means Death. Still finding its feet after a couple of eps, and very dependent on the klutzy charm of Rhys Darby, but a very pleasant diversion nonetheless. Also poking my toe into the infinity pool of The White Lotus. I can see what the fuss is about. Just not sure I can warm to it. Not bailing quite yet, mostly because anything with Jennifer Coolidge is worthy of attention. I mean I stuck with several seasons of Two Broke Girls thanks to her.
Rob is listening…
to The Mountain Goats. John Darnielle is one prolific dude. Like other hardworking bands such as King Lizard And The Gizzard Wizard or Guided By Voices, by the time you think you’ve got a handle on the work, new records arrive. What we have here is a cornucopia of folky poppy goodness. Start with this 2019 performance for KEXP then find your own path through the woods.
Rob is eating…
Fish Finger Katsu from Jack Monroe’s new book, Thrifty Kitchen. One of those little moments of inspired culinary genius. I mean, why wouldn’t you?
The USA Gilead is becoming a more oppressive place to live by the day, clamping down on or wiping out people’s rights while claiming the new restrictions are all about freedom. Fortunately, not everyone is meekly bowing their heads. In Texas, for example, the push towards banning books featuring gay, non-binary or non-white characters in school libraries is stumbling under the face of firm, polite but immovable opposition.
Charles Addams would have been 100 this year. The hit Netflix series starring his greatest creations has re-sparked interest in the ooky, kooky cartoonist. About time too, I say!
Here’s a fascinating Twitter thread (well, let’s try and stay positive about the platform even in the face of the shutdown of third-party apps which made the devolving experience slightly less rage-inducing) on the first appearance of Stockholm Syndrome. You know, the mental state where kidnapper’s victims (usually female) fall in love with their captors (mostly male). Spoiler alert—it’s not a real syndrome.
Robin Sloan has written a story with a synthesiser attached. It’s an incredible example of how to use the internet in unusual but strangely affecting ways. I’ll be frank. The experience was deeply moving for me. Read the story. Play the tune. You’ll see what I mean.
Now, wrestling has never been an entertainment medium I’ve followed closely. I do appreciate the hard work and skill which goes into the performances, and the theatricality of the experience does hold a certain charm. The New York Times talks to a rising star on the scene, who is as far from the musclebound punk of tradition as you can get.
This important and useful list of the meanest cats in literature is a very handy guide for future reading. Is it possible I’m trying to squeeze in a cat link into every chapter of The Swipe? You’ll just have to watch and see…
The uniquely British move towards weird abbreviations has escalated massively over the last couple of years. And it really is a British-only thing. English is a uniquely malleable language, able to take on all measure of twists and distortions. Dazed Digital offers an investy gee.
William Gibson wrote Fragments Of A Hologram Rose in 1976. It would prove to be the seed for cyberpunk, a truly forward-looking SF sub-genre which owed nothing to the space-operas and red-menace allegories of old. Instead, it keyed into the uncertain dread of a computerized future. The story still feels fresh and relevant today. As Gibson himself has said, the future is already here. It’s just not evenly distributed yet.
‘…it is this boozeletter’s carefully considered editorial position that alcohol is meant to be drank and enjoyed, not hermetically sealed in the climate-controlled bowels of a suburban fortress owned by T-Mobile’s largest wholesaler.’
Dave Infanti’s Fingers is a fantastic newsletter for those of us interested in the wider discussions to be had around booze culture. He investy gees the new trend amongst the mega-rich for wine rooms and whisky cellars. The conclusion? The more money you have, the weirder you become…
“La hora de vermút [vermouth hour] was a melancholic moment at dusk before laborers hopped on the train to face their families.”
I’ve become more and more fascinated by amaros and vermouths—complex drinks with wild flavour profiles. There’s an incredible range of herbal concoctions to try, and a rich history to explore. Punch Drink takes a tour of Buenos Aires to see how life rolls in Aperitivo Town.
Last week, we talked about the defence of the spaces we use to create our art. Some are more mythical than others. They don’t have to be particularly glamourous. Take the writing shed in which Roald Dahl weaved his magic…
The Writing Space Of Our Dreams
The Outro has to go to Jeff Beck, who moved on this week. He was a bonafide genius, with a touch and control of his instrument unlike any other string-slinger. Check out his version of A Day In The Life and prepare to be amazed.
See you in seven, true believers.
January 7, 2023
The Swipe Volume 1 Chapter 1
New year, new start. If you’re expecting the usual Saturday hit of The Cut—well, things have changed a bit. The Excuses And Half Truths newsletter is now The Swipe, a more personal take on the week. It’s an incremental shift rather than a complete restart, but I hope you like the tweaks.
You still get your links. You still get your song. You also get an overview of what I’ve been enjoying this week. I’ll try to keep it positive. Recommendations rather than warnings. You don’t need me grumbling at you while you’re easing into the weekend.
Lots to see and do. Let’s get it started.
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
Double Or Nothing by Kim Sherwood. In a post-Bond world, the Double 0 section is struggling to cope with new threats to global security. A lot of fun but badly missing a strong central character (and the spectre of 007 looms strongly over this one).
Rob is watching…
Greg Davies. Taskmaster, obviously. The New Year’s Special was a scream, and I can’t wait to see how Frankie Boyle copes with the challenges in the 2023 series. Greg’s dark comedy The Cleaner seemed to sneak out on BBC1 last year, but then got enough positive press to garner a Christmas special, so what do I know? All power to the big fella–he’s found his niche and character and gone large with it.
Rob is listening…
to the BBC Sounds of 2023. A lot of the picks leave me a bit cold, but I’m very taken by Gabriel’s mix of blue jazzy soul and Nia Archive’s joyful revival of jungle. Baianá in particular. Deliriously good. JUNGLIST MASSIVE BRAP BRAP.
Rob is eating…
Sausages. Not pigs in blankets. Not stuffing balls with more Brie and cranberry in them than pork. Good old fashioned rough-chopped butcher’s sausages flavoured just with pepper and a touch of sage. Decent onion gravy and a little too much mustard. Blissss.
To begin, let’s defend our territory. The spaces we need to be creative, in whatever form it takes. Take the time, claim the space necessary. Even if it’s just a corner of the kitchen table for half an hour a day to get some word count down, or a Saturday afternoon in the shed to work on your sculpture. The creative act is yours. Own it.
Mounting An Aggressive Defense
The beginning of the year is an exciting time as intellectual properties come into the public domain, free to do with as we will. The big ones this year are Sherlock Holmes and Winnie The Pooh, but there are hundreds more lesser-known characters to play with. The Internet’s Librarian Jess Nevis has a list to tickle your tastebuds.
I don’t think we quite realize what a strange year 2022 was. Read Max’s overview feels like a wild bulletin from a science fictional parody, rather than a sober listing of things that actually happened to us in the last twelve months. Honestly, give this list to someone from the nineteen-fifties and they’d think it came from the pages of Amazing Stories…
‘…the most common transaction at an ATM is not a withdrawal so much as it is a sale. You are buying some paper with a mystical property associated with it, in return for money, and often paying a convenience fee.’
The more I think about money, the more I realize I honestly don’t understand it. It’s the system which runs the world but seems largely based on blind faith and magical thinking. Once you dig into the concept, it flies away from you like fog. Take the simple act of getting some beer tokens out of a cash point…
You Don’t Understand Cashpoints
Sarah Andersen is a cartoonist whose work I’ve admired for a long time. Deceptively simple, stylistically rich, thematically thoughtful and warm. It’s frustrating to see her cartoons appropriated by bad actors, worse still once the massive intellectual land-grab of AI art-crawling enters into the mix.
Dignity in labour is on everyone’s minds at the moment as the key workers we applauded during Covid are now vilified for daring to ask for decent work and conditions. It’s nothing new, unfortunately. Take the story of one Cecile Chaumpaigne, her famous boss, and accusations of assault which all hinged on a misinterpretation of a single legal term…
I loved this piece on how a near-abandoned photographic archive has been returned to life by enthusiasts and volunteers. Context is, as in the piece above, vitally important. Without it, a picture is just a picture. With the right information, it becomes a little bit of history.
I listed four good things at the top of this week’s chapter. I do recommend you check out Lev Parikian’s six. Thing three gave me a serious dose of the giggles.
I feel sorry for anyone trying to learn English as a second language. It’s a horrible hidebound mess, fraught with traps for the unwary. Why are through, trough and though pronounced so differently? I don’t know and I like to hope I speak English as a native. Then we come onto the tricky subject of word order…
I’m delighted to hand this week’s Last Word to my pal Kelly, who spotted a great bit of Ninth Art goodness while taking a break in Paris. If you’d like to know more about the huge amounts of work involved in the restoration of Notre Dame Cathedral following the catastrophic fire of 2019, check this out. Like we always say, comics do it best.
For the Outro, here’s a bracing dose of live loudness from 1980. Hugh Cornwall of The Stranglers was banged up in Pentonville on drugs charges. A bit inconvenient as the band had a huge showcase booked while he was behind bars. In a fine example of ‘the show must go on’ spirit, the Stranglers took the stage with a rotating cast of guests, making for an unforgettable night. Far Out Magazine has the running order, a roll-call of greats you’d never be able to get together again.
See you in seven, true believers.
December 31, 2022
The Final Cut
Let’s address the big question first. Yes, this is the last episode of The Cut. The offices will be closing at midnight, the Crew moving on with blessings and happy thoughts to new and exciting adventures.
It’s not the end of the Excuses And Half Truths newsletter, though. Think of this moment as a restart, a chance to address a couple of points which have irritated Editor Rob for a while.
That Editor Rob thing, for a start. It’s time to take ownership, stop hiding behind a (let’s be honest) fictitious office of grizzled journos and wide-eyed juniors. A singular authorial voice is the requirement. Hello. My name is Rob Wickings and from next week I will be your host and patron.
Of course, the annoying fact that New York Magazine already has a newsletter-style supplement called The Cut makes this venture look even more like a copycat. In our defense, the whole thing was set up as a lockdown venture with very little foresight. We have the ability to change things up and be more ourselves. A proper email newsletter will be available in the New Year as well, if you prefer. In fact, this is a chance for you to make your wishes known. Is there anything you’d like me to cover? Are there any tweaks to the service you’d like to see? Hit me up. I’m always listening.
A lot will not change. The winning structure—ten posts with a bit of context, finish with a song—stays. So does the delivery time. Saturday at 10am, just in time for me to relax with Matt and the gang for Saturday Kitchen.
Next week, then, I would be delighted for you to join me for Volume 1, Chapter 1 of The Swipe.
For now, though, one last run through the turnstiles. Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Final Cut.
When you go out, go out classy. A favorite musician of The Cut, Warren Zevon, took control of his passing with charm and dark humour. His final TV appearance was a takeover of David Letterman’s show in October 2002. He was the only guest. It was memorable TV, which this oral history from behind the scenes shows.
Understanding human perception brings up one essential truth—every one of us looks at the world slightly differently. Your colour blue is not ours. Keep that in mind as you read this fascinating bit from Everything Is Amazing on the difficulties involved in coming up with your own personal shade.
The film under discussion in Kevin Power’s notes will become obvious as you read through them. We urge you to read to the end, though. A cheap sequel to a franchise largely viewed at the time as laughable has gathered significant resonance over the years. It deals elegantly with themes of fatherhood, honour and aging, while quoting Melville and Shakespeare. Oh, and it was written in a fortnight flat.
As the new Avatar movie continues to make waves at the box office, one complaint is becoming louder, especially amongst those of us who have a limited amount of—shall we call it biological patience? In short, three hours and fifteen minutes is a long time to spend in a movie theatre without getting caught short. Is it time to bring back that finest of cinema traditions—the intermission?
There’s always time for cat photos. Masayuki Oki tours the many quiet islands of Japan, documenting the lives of the feline population, which frequently outnumber the humans. We for one welcome our adorable overlords.
Film-making is hard work. Even at the low-budget end of the scale, it can take years and a fortune and a barrow full of heartache to get your vision—or some version of it—up in front of people. Imagine doing that during lockdown with three young kids to look after. Actually, there’s no need to imagine it. Let Laura Rees tell you.
The past few months have opened up a lot of people to the notion that social media is really not good for them. Elno Muskrat’s takeover of The Bird Site has condensed and concentrated a general sense of disquiet into a full-on revolt and discussion on how things can improve. Are decentralised networks where no one voice is allowed to dominate the answer? Bit early to say, we reckon, although Mastodon is taking up more of our time (@wickings@mstdn.social if you’re interested). Katherine Cross made a very good point earlier in the year which could point to the fediverse as a sane path ahead. Traditional social networks are toxic by design…
Everything Taylor Swift does is subject to an insane amount of scrutiny. Even the way she holds her pen is subject to heavy detective work. To be fair, that is one curious grip…
Nudging back to the idea of federated instances for a moment. Cafe Atlas is no one place. Rather, it’s a kind of platonic ideal, a coffee joint where you can sit and think in peace. Think a more caffeinated version of Orwell’s Moon Under Water. Two important points—the quality of coffee is secondary to the vibe. Chains are not invited. Curator Ariel Rubinstein has listed 674 places so far. There are only 44 in the UK. This needs to change. Get your recommendations in, folks.
And finally. We know the New Year is spun as a time for fresh starts and positive action. We also know it can be difficult and bewildering to figure out how to start. By all means try the Dry or Vegan approaches, but why not also spend January taking some actions to happiness? Simple tasks done regularly can quickly build into something great. Whatever you do, however you choose to do it, just know we support you in your quest for betterness in 2023.
Here we are then. Another year over and a new one just begun. Well, about to. You get the idea. As we’re jabbing our thumb hard on the reset button for 2023, this John Lennon classic seems appropriate. Please join us next Saturday for more of the same that’s completely different.
See you in seven, true believers.
December 24, 2022
The Cut Season 3 Christmas Wrapup
So, this is (nearly) Christmas. Are you ready? It’s a complicated time of year. The general pressure is on family, peace, gift-giving and happiness. But that may not be how things are for you. Family relations can be difficult. Money’s tight. Peace? Well, Putin’s still on his bullshit. All told, you could be excused for turning your back on the whole charade.
But the day can be an excuse to make your own sort of merry. After all, we celebrate in late December as the winter slowly begins to retreat and the darkest day is over our shoulder. It can be a time to reflect, take a breath, and make plans for the year ahead. Above all, it can be a moment where you gather the people you love and show them you care, in whatever way you can.
If nothing else, take comfort in a tiny chink of regularity and sweet routine.
Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.
Of course, we’ll upend tradition immediately by starting, rather than finishing with a song. Not just one either—101 of the buggers. Stick this playlist on shuffle and let the good times roll!
We love this tale from webcomic guru Ursula on the day she won an Oscar. It also features Neil Gaiman and some nachos so hey, all points covered.
Gaiman and Hugo and nachos, oh my!
On the subject of The Dark Scribe, a reading Neil did of A Christmas Carol in full Dickensian mode recently re-emerged. It is, naturally, well worth your time. Gods, that beard!
A Christmas Carol, Gaiman Style
Ulric Collette does family photos like no-one else. They are beautiful and slightly creepy but show the way genetic traits thread through generations in a simple and elegant fashion. Lovely stuff.
This long oral history of the nascent LA punk scene is stuffed full of great characters and stories, against a wonderfully pungent backdrop. It’s fascinating to read about the early days of some very big names and how they had to struggle and hustle. Strap on, turn it up and hit that big chord.
Hollywood Freaks On The Hollywood Scene
This week’s ep is perhaps not the jolliest of holliest, but we came across some fine writing which should be shared whatever the season. Charlie Smith’s blog, in which she shares her struggles with bipolar disorder, is striking for its honesty and flashes of humour. The mind is still largely unexplored territory and we’re finding our way through it without a map. Wrong turns are only to be expected.
One of our major obsessions this year has been The Bear. We are not alone in loving this show about food, family and the stress involved in managing both. We have not yet got around to recreating the iconic family meal tomato sauce. Should you feel the urge, Natalie Guest has your back. It’s a fine antidote to that Xmas excess…
Do you remember that time kids in Japan ended up in hospital thanks to an episode of Pokémon? We do. Hindsight only adds another layer of weirdness to a tale which was already pretty darn peculiar.
Christmas songs. We know them, we sing them, they’re in our blood and our hearts. They take up space in our heads which could be used for something more useful. We never really think about what they’re saying or the clumsy ways they try to deliver the lyrical load. Jon Elledge has been thinking about them. A lot. We’re a bit worried about Jon.
And finally. The question of what we do with Christmas trees after the event, or at least the big public ones, has been elegantly solved. Compost? Boring. Mulch? Bitch, please! Take that piney fragrance and put it in a drink. Now that’s how you fizz up your festives!
A different kind of Christmas fizz
Ok, one last song. Bela Fleck and The Punch Brothers all cram on stage to read out some letters to Santa and crack out a fantastic Christmas medley. This is exceedingly jolly.
However you celebrate, whoever you choose to celebrate with, we wish you a fine and peaceful day tomorrow. We’ll be back on New Year’s Eve with some exciting news about exploits and adventures in 2023.
See you in seven, elves and baubles.
December 17, 2022
The Cut Season 3 Episode 46
How’s your festive countdown running, if you do such a thing? Tree up? Deccoes strung? Cards posted? If not, too late! Oh well, probably better for the environment not to send so much paper around just to have it go in the recycling. To us, it feels like we’ve almost forgotten what to do after two lockdown Christmases. Still, even if plans are askew, there are always mince pies. Whatever your belief system, you can always have faith in them.
And of course, in your regular Saturday visit from your pals at The Cut. This week: lies! Viking detectives! A recipe! And an anti-Christmas anthem.
Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.
The writing life, especially one concerned with word count and deadline, can be tough to negotiate. If you have to pull a thousand words out of nowhere to order, inspiration is a key factor. Sat at a desk staring at a screen and a blinking cursor is not conducive to easy word flow. Not surprising, then, that writers will use anything and everything as fuel for the creative fire, regardless of the cost to friends and family.
Christmas, as Bruce Borgos points out, is an event based on a lie. How do we balance the fiction against the possible psychological blowbacks of revealing the great untruth to our beloved children? It will happen at some point, corrupting their hitherto innocent lives. Should parents take control of that terrible moment, to soften the revelatory blow?
There is a fantastic novel waiting to be teased from the short taster Daniel Lavery provides for The Chatner on the working life of the Viking detective. We could speculate on how much of it is based on accurate research, but it has the ring of veracity. The Vikings lived in a harsher, more pragmatic time. Murder happened as a part of the unbreakable cycle of life and death in which these people were bound. How they dealt with it needed to be equally practical and free from emotion…
Laura Preston’s account of her year working as support to an expert system is the article we’d urge you to read above all others this week. It reconfigures many of the arguments and hot takes we’re having over AI right now and makes one thing very clear—artificial intelligence doesn’t exist in the way we currently imagine.
A question and answer session with Fozzy Bear and Kermit the Frog is exactly as pure and delightful as you’d expect. We don’t deserve The Muppets. It’s a better world for having them in it. Tip of the hat for long-time pal of The Cut Kelly for pointing us at it. Reader recommendations are always welcome.
Let us explore the cross point between Spooky Season and Yuletide Creeps with a nose around folk horror, hauntology and mysteries frozen in time. It’s fifty years since Nigel Kneale’s The Stone Tapes was released. The show retains an urgent power and the ability to chill the bones.
We thoroughly enjoyed the New York Times spin around fictitious dinner parties. It’s the season, after all. We’ve all been privy to the delicious drama waiting when a bunch of mismatched people are gathered around a table for a meal, whether they like it or not.
Sometimes, the baggage around Christmas can be a bit too much, but we still have that tribal urge to huddle together and celebrate—something. Even those of us without faith can join in. For the rest of us, there’s always Festivus. Prepare the aluminium pole and get your list of grievances ready…
And finally. We mentioned yesterday that Excuses And Half Truths has been running since 2009. This has been shown up as an untruth, as we recently came across this post from 2005. A recipe which may come in handy if you want something lighter and simpler for dinner over this period of excess. You will note, as it’s been written by an avowed ovophobe, the recipe contains no eggs. We also apologise in advance for the typos. It was a simpler age and we didn’t have spellcheck to give us that sheen of professionalism glinting off the edges of our current output.
That’s it for this week! The dreaded supercold has stripped out the staffing at Cut Central. Most of the hard work on this week’s ep has been done by Smedley the office junior with able assistance from the Cut cat Mogwai. Things Fall Apart, and yet we drag ourselves across the finish line. To celebrate, please enjoy Cristina’s elegantly acidic take on the woes of the season.
See you on Christmas Eve, jingleberries!
December 10, 2022
The Cut Season 3 Episode 45
Editor Rob notes:
I woke this morning to do the construction, polish and delivery of this here missive, which has become a very pleasing way to start the weekend. It clears the mind and focusses me on the day ahead while TLC snoozes upstairs. Quiet time. My time with ten links, a song and The Readership.
Today the garden is coated in a thick layer of frost. The heavenly sky-daddy has shaken out a tub of decorative icing sugar, and everything is twinkling. The light is soft, pearlescent. Everything is peaceful. It’s a clear signal we’re coming to the end of another tumultuous year. This time next week I will be 56. This time next month we will be living in the twenty-third year of the twenty-first century, a phrase which feels wildly science-fictional to me. Who knows what 2023 holds? It seems crazy to try and make any predictions. Perhaps next year this blog will be entirely written by a chat bot with art by Dall-E, and I will be surplus to requirements.
I like to hope not. For one thing I’d miss the Saturday mornings, and this quiet time with you, Readership.
Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.
Featured image by Peter Marshall via Flashbak – more here.
If you carry on doing the same thing for long enough, you revolve round from old hat to sexy new fedora before you realise it. As Twitter continues to crumble, people are looking to create social mediums with more of a sense of real connection, a space where they have control over what’s said. The federated community of Mastodon is a start but attention is now being paid to these things called ‘blogs’ which may have something to offer. Ooh, Directory is a brilliant new list of places to start if you want to explore this wild new frontier…
Perhaps you’d be tempted to give ‘blogging’ a go yourself. Here are some top tips to get you started. Speaking as an offshoot of a ‘blog’ which has been running since 2009 we can guarantee it’s an easy and rewarding exercise and you don’t have to deal with any tedious content moderation. It’s you and words and the contents of your head, which can contain multitudes.
The office stereo still regularly rotates to the mash-up masterpiece As Heard On Radio Soulwax Vol. 2, an album filled with mad-eyed invention and top tunage. It’s twenty years since the album rattled the speakers of the cognoscenti (and er, Editor Rob’s home setup). Finally, the record is getting a proper release. The Soulwax guys spoke to Dazed Digital about the history and creation of this massively influential collection.
Here’s a great interview with Mick Herron, creator of Jackson Lamb and his slow horses. The well-crafted adaptation of the series on Apple TV+ is extremely good, but the books are where the good, thick, bitter stuff can be found. Herron seems exactly the sort of bloke who gets his demons out in his writing. We’ve definitely found that the nicest people write the nastiest stuff.
Tom Whitwell gives us a list of 52 things he learned in 2022. We guarantee you will also find some learnings you did not have previously here.
As ever, 2000AD, or more specifically writer John Wagner, predicted the future with aplomb and humour decades ago. As the argument over AI art and writing rumbles on, let’s look back to his character Kenny Who? and how Mega-City One’s comic-industrial complex screwed him over big time.
Art Goes In And Content Comes Out
Get good enough at your creative endeavour and there will come a point where you can do no wrong. Everything flows. Everyone loves you. Success and fame bathe you in a warm flood of approval. It doesn’t last. It’s just a phase. But while you are in that zone, you are mighty. You are—imperial.
The story of Juliane Koepcke’s survival in the Peruvian rainforest in 1971 is one we don’t really want to spoil in a preamble. If you don’t know it, prepare to be amazed.
Every year since 2017, Billie Eilish has sat down with Vanity Fair and conducted the same interview on the same day—18th November. Year Six is just up on the tubes. It’s fascinating to see the changes in her, and pleasing that she seems to be at her most happy and content right now. We also note that this calm, poised, mature and massively successful woman is 20. Did you have an Oscar and complete a world tour before your 21st birthday? Ugh. We need to step up our game.
Aaannnd finally. The release of the brilliant Violent Night starring everyone’s favourite sexy bear David Harbour has sparked this excellent Den Of Geek list of scary Santas. Look, in our mind it’s still spooky season, ok? (Mind you, in our mind it’s always spooky season mooohooohoohahahaha).
Editor Rob shoves the Music Desk recommendation aside:
It’s been a bumpy few weeks, culminating in a family funeral on Monday. I helped to bear my nan’s coffin, and wrote and delivered her eulogy. That’s what I get for calling myself a writer, I guess. People will call you on it at the worst possible time. Anyway, I managed the reading without a wobble and the vicar winked at me, so I’ll take that as a win.
Funerals and wakes are part of the healing process, but don’t think it’s all over just because the ceremonial aspect, however important, is done. Case in point—during my drive into work on Thursday, Sufjan Steven’s Chicago came up on the car stereo. As the music dropped away and the choir sang ‘all things go, all things go’, I had to pull over and take a moment. I did feel better afterwards, and happy to share this song with you on a cold Saturday morning, while the low winter sun brightens the frost in the garden.
See you in seven, sweethearts.
December 3, 2022
The Cut Season 3 Episode 44
December! Holy macaroni, it’s December! We’ve been a bit turned around what with the Nanowrimo and the family bereavements and all the hey hey hey but even so! Who pulled down the big switch and turned winter on without us noticing? X minus 22 days, Readership. You better not pout…
This week: marmalade, food which may not be food and a momento mori just to stop things getting too jolly.
Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.
But first, as we’re into the festive countdown, there should be an advent calendar. Janelle Shane from AI Weirdness has us covered as she sets her pet monsters to the task. There are some delightful curiosities to be uncovered.
As Elno Murk continues to drive his latest purchase at speed down bad roads, a lot of people have rightly decided to pull the lever on their ejector seat. Many have plumped for the federated instances of Mastodon as their new choice of social. Which can be a bit strange for the good folks who were there first…
The Guardian Graphic Short Story Prize dropped a couple of weeks ago, with some excellent pages on display. Please enjoy Midnight Feast by Rebecca Jones, and we urge you to check out the runner-ups as well. Gentle, sharply observed stories all.
The culinary selfie may feel like an offshoot of the Instagram generation. But as ever the things we do now tie into much older traditions. The vanitas painting may look familiar, but these beautifully rendered pictures are loaded with significance and symbolism.
The Caversham Jam Lady shut up shop this year, but her legacy lives on. Her loathing of marmalade was well documented and doubly ironic in that when she did grind some jars out, her marms were incredibly delicious. Our pal Kim, posting as smugfacelazybones, offers her take on a classic. We can attest to the deliciousness.
Still with the Food Desk, as we approach the season of maximum consumption, let us consider the alternatives. Science fiction has often thought about how we can produce enough vittles for a growing population. There are some intriguing ideas in this listicle from James Davis Nichols. Surprisingly, no mention of Soylent Green…
In his professional capacity, Editor Rob has heard many stories on the explosive nature of nitrate film. Movie fans may recall Quentin Tarantino made it a plot point in Inglourius Basterds. This recent tale of cinematic conflagration is a good one to add to the legend.
We all seem a little late to the table, but it’s good to see the world finally waking to the talents of Octavia E. Butler. Kindred is getting a big-budget adaptation and her works in general have been glowingly reappraised. Octavia was a powerful figure and, as this portrait from Vulture showed, lived a remarkable life.
Back to AI for a sec, for a chat with musician Holly Herndon. She’s taken our concerns about deepfakes, in this case over digital cover versions of songs ostensibly by artists who never sung them in the first place, and flipped the whole argument on its head. Why just do the obvious boring thing when you can generate new music with a real sense of the unpredictable?
We recently passed the centenary of Charles M. Shultz’s birth. The creator of Peanuts, his strips contain a quiet universal appeal which continues to speak to us today. Most affectingly, he was not afraid to tell kids it was ok to feel sad or afraid or angry sometimes. He refused to talk down to his audience. They loved him and his characters all the more for it.
Little And Big At The Same Time
And finally. The cinematic matchup of the year. Nicholas Cage interviewed by John Carpenter. It gets no better than this.
The Music Desk insists new music by Neil Finn and Crowded House is an event worthy of celebration. A new tune, Oh Hi, is released in conjunction with an African educational charity, So They Can. It’s a lovely tune, of course, released to support a great cause. Give it a listen.
See you next Saturday, jingle baubles.
November 26, 2022
Mary And Scooter And The E Street Shuffle
Something a bit different this Saturday, as I’m still a bit sideways after last week’s bad news and a bumpy time at work. I’ve given The Cut Crew a week off and decided to offer up a bit of home-grown short fiction.
The following piece was written for a competition set up by my local writing group, the esteemed Reading Writers. I’m pleased to report it won first place. The field was especially strong so a win felt very special.
The prompt was to base the story around a song. I decided to go more widescreen and based it on the early albums of Bruce Springsteen, as well as the songs which influenced his formative tunes. His new album of covers, Only The Strong Survive, is a stone groove by the way.
I hope you enjoy Mary And Scooter And The E Street Shuffle.
Low sun, late summer. Twilight pours through the stands of corn rolling off to the horizon in waves of gold. The air is heated and fragrant, thick with the scent of straw and roses.
On the porch, Mary spins in place, arms wide, lost in the music from the radio. The simple things made epic, a teenage crush elevated to high drama with the kick of the drums, the howl of the horns, the thundercrack from an overdriven Telecaster. He’s so fine. Be my baby. Then he kissed me. Feelings as pure and honest as the first swallow of cold beer on a summer night. Mary’s mouth waters at the thought of it. If only she had a beer. Or an icebox to cool it. Or the money to pay for either.
A faint plume of dust rises from the gateway to the farm. An engine growls, the animal throatiness rising as a car swings off the town road and towards the house. A Chevy in candy apple red, driven too fast, hopping down the cratered drive like a salmon leaping a stream in high spate.
Mary stops dancing. ‘Hey la, my boyfriend’s back,’ she thinks. But there’s no smile on her face. The timing’s all wrong. It’s too early in the day for Scooter to be sniffing around.
The Chevy fishtails to a halt, spraying gravel over Mary’s carefully-planted patch of roses. The engine howls one last time before Scooter kills it. He swings out, slim and graceful as a flick-knife. His hair is up, a black wave glinting in the sunlight. White tee, pack of Red Apple cigarettes stuck in the sleeve. Blue jeans, scuffed work boots. The American dream, striding off the cinema screen and the advertising hoardings and into Mary’s life with a crooked smile and a promise of love everlasting.
Martha Reeves opens up on the radio. ‘It’s easy to fall in love with a boy like you,’ she sings. ‘Too damn easy,’ Mary thinks, and steps over to turn the set off.
‘No need to stop now,’ Scooter says. ‘I love that song.’
‘I prefer The Ronettes,’ Mary says. ‘Nice to see you in daylight, Scoot. What’s the occasion?’
Scooter lights up his sunniest smile, the movie-star charisma turned up full blast. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
‘Nothing less than the rest of our lives, baby. Pack a bag. We’re leaving this dump in our tail-lights.’
Mary stares at him. She doesn’t say a word. There’s no need. Scooter can’t leave a silence unfilled, which means he’s about to empty out whatever’s in that pretty head of his to fill the void.
‘I mean, there’s nothing left for me there, now.’ He jerks his chin away to the east, towards the heat haze cloaking the chimney-stacks and factories of Stonestown.
‘The job at the garage didn’t pan out, the guys on the corner are all jerks. It’s a town full of losers. Winners like us need more.’
Now there’s a light in his eyes, the cold grey sparking like lit coals on a grill. Mary sees it then, sharp and clear.
Fear.
‘What did you do, Scoot?’
‘Me? Nothing! Truth is, I was defending you, baby! Johnny said something he shouldn’t and well, I couldn’t let it stand, him calling you that name so I, so I admonished him.’
A classic Scooter trick, pulling out a big word he didn’t really understand as a distraction. Hoping you’d be so impressed at his big-brain vocabulary you’d skip over what he meant.
Mary thinks for a moment. Then it hits her. ‘You admonished Spanish Johnny.’
Scooter has the grace to look embarrassed. ‘It all got a little out of hand.’
Mary turns to hide the shock, puts her hand to her mouth. Oh god, no. She’d heard the stories about the boys on E Street, those preening vicious cockerels. Jimmy The Saint and Go-Kart Mozart, Angel, The Big Man and the worst of them all, Spanish Johnny. He could turn a mild disagreement over a horse’s chances at the last race at Monmouth Park into a full-bore gang war. If Scoots had been poking the cage of that particular monster…
Bloodlust on the sidewalks of E Street. Little Angel sharpening his blades. All the boys pulling up floorboards to get at their guns while their best girls wail and tear their hair. She spins back, making no effort to hide the tears.
‘You’d better have killed him. If you humiliated Spanish Johnny in front of his crew—‘
‘I just put him on the floor. One hit, it was almost too easy. Baby, he called you a wh—‘
‘We’re not leaving, are we? We’re running. You had just enough time to swing by here on your way out of town and pick up the rest of your stuff.’ She plucks at her dress. The material is so thin, the sunflower print worn to the colour of baby sick.
The phone starts ringing in the back of the house. Rare enough at the best of times but here, now, it feels too neat to be coincidence. Mary half-turns, in time for the bell to stop. It’s unusual for Pa to move that quickly. She wonders if he’s been listening, if he has a notion of the ugly thing moving up on them.
‘It’s not like that, baby. You know it. This is our chance. Get out clean, find our sunrise.’ There’s a pleading tone to his voice now, a faint but rising whine. It sickens her.
‘Hold on,’ she says, spins on her heel and practically runs back into the house.
Pa is split in two by the stripes of light and darkness from the blinds shading the window. The phone handset is almost lost in his thick paw, clenched hard enough to snap it.
‘I’ll say this one more time, slow enough even for you. My daughter went to the store, I don’t know when she’ll be back. The boy, well, he’ll get the same welcome as you and your rat-swarm if you come around. The loud end of my thirty-ought-six.’ He listens to the squawks of outrage coming from the speaker. ‘Come and try, puta,’ he says, and mashes the handset back onto the phone.
He looks at Mary, eyes dark and sad as gravestones. ‘Bought you an hour. It’ll take that long for them to muster up a set of balls and load up a car. You’d best pack fast. West is safest. Those boys could never stand the sight of a sunset.’
‘I’m not going,’ Mary says. ‘They want Scoot, they can have him. He can run. I won’t.’
Pa doesn’t blink. ‘To them, it doesn’t matter. They’ll hurt you just to get at him. Don’t matter what you say, however you curse him. You and the boy—‘ He puts his hands together, palm to palm, laces the fingers. ‘You’re the same song now. Same sad fucking song.’
‘We can fight.’
‘We’ll lose. Been a long time since I brightened the corners of E Street. I was like them, once. Before I met your ma and grew up. I know how they think. They’ll swarm in and take us to pieces.’
‘All because Scoot couldn’t keep his fist in his pocket.’
Pa smiles then. ‘Yeah. He reminds me a lot of me. I’d do the same for a girl who looked like you.’
There’s no time, and not enough words. Mary runs to her father, hugs him once with all the strength of her heart. It takes her ten minutes to fill a bag with everything she owns. She leaves the house, not daring to look back, afraid of what she might do if she took one last glance at her old life.
And there’s Scooter, trying on the old smile, the cool act. None of it works anymore. He’s a frightened little boy trying to outrun a storm. She thinks of the stories told about kids in their situation. Cathy and Heathcliff. Lancelot and Guinevere. Bonnie and Clyde. Romeo and Juliet.
She walks past Scooter, slinging her bag into the open trunk of the Cadillac, slamming it shut, sliding into the passenger seat.
‘Take the fire-roads,’ she says. ‘Stay off the interstate. Don’t talk to me.’ She turns on the car radio, to mask the silence.
‘Nowhere to run to, baby,’ Martha Reeves sings. ‘Nowhere to hide.’
Would you be surprised to learn I made a Spotify playlist as an inspirational soundtrack while I wrote the story above?
No, of course you wouldn’t. I think we know each other well enough by now. Play it loud, obviously.
See you next Saturday, lovers.
November 19, 2022
The Cut Season 3 Episode 43
This episode is dedicated to the memory of Gwendolyn Sampson (1921-2022), Editor Rob’s maternal grandmother. A force for good in this world and sadly missed. So long, Party Nan.
In the face of this sad event and ongoing Nanowrimo responsibilities, we will again be running a reduced service this week. Please adjust your expectations accordingly.
Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.
As we rumble into the third, most difficult week of Nanowrimo, the need for creative sustenance becomes more important than ever. We found this set of tips from the great Ursula LeGuin to be both useful and nurturing. We hope, if you are Nanoing, that the journey continues to surprise and delight you. It’s more likely to be a grind at this point. Trust us, that will always be a part of it too.
Robin Rouse is writing a book. His notes on that process are becoming a fascinating study on everything from publishing to the creative act. In this section from his ongoing blog, Robin links some of the design cues he uses onto online newsletters and—hmm, let’s just say we might just have us some of that. We’re reminded a little of what Dave Pell has done with the iOS version of his NextDraft. Every section has its own page and you swipe through very much as you would do a magazine. Neat stuff and worth checking out if you have the wherewithal.
It is the season for Brunswick. Stew. Hearty, rich, rib-sticking and highly customisable. The base flavour is what makes it Brunswick—once you have it in place the recipe becomes yours. A pot of this could last a week. Handy if you don’t want food prep to eat too hard into precious writing time…
Another banger from Chloe Maevel and The Gutter Review as she only goes and chats to sexy wizard Grant Morrison about a few of their core mid-90s strips! This period in British comics, as Crisis met Deadline with a Revolver— is a particular weakness for the Ninth Art Desk. A fertile and hedonistic time in which writers and artists felt they had the world on a stick. This article is so good. Chloe and Grant are clearly having such a laugh over the strips and memories.
We love short fiction. That love extends to the short film, arguably a more difficult form to get right. There is so much story and character to cram into a compressed timeframe. Get it right and you’ve carved out a gem for the ages. The Script Lab have come up with a list of their Top Ten. We have to say, every one’s a winner.
In a stellar year for culinary drama, the good stuff just keeps on coming. The latest, a delightfully over-cooked horror/comedy from some of the team behind Succession, features Ralph Fiennes as a monstrous multi-starred chef, a bonkers tasting menu and a set of diners who have no idea what’s coming next. Let’s have a look at The Menu…
There are some circumstances which need words or phrases not in the English language. Schadenfraude. L’esprit de l’escalier. We’ve found another one, a Japanese term which describes the lives of most of The Cut Crew perfectly. We hope The Readership know what we’re talking about.
There is a point in this article about a forgotten apolitical movement from Canada in the 30s which will pull you up short and instantly re-extrapolate certain fast-moving current events to a more creepy long-term historical context. You’ll know it when you hit it.
And finally, with some reference to the article above. The latest in our looks at alternative social networks visits The Midnight Pub, whose charming and avowedly old-school aesthetics may be just what we’re looking for.
This week’s Exit Music seems almost too appropriate given the events of the last week. Mid to late 90s, we guess, a tune from an ep of MTV Unplugged. We’d never heard the song before. We suspect it’ll be played a lot over the next month or so.
See you next Saturday, fams.
November 12, 2022
The Cut Season 3 Episode 42
A slightly truncated ep this week. Editor Rob is deep into the annual assault course/self-inflicted torture that is Nanowrimo, and is lost in wordcount. We dedicate our November output to the brave souls, dreamers and fools who take on the challenge every year. We salute you.
Now is the time. Here is the place. This is The Cut.
We have to start with some sad news. The comics scene is mourning the passing of the brilliant Spanish artist Carlos Pacheco. But a blow landed closer to home this week with the news we’d also lost Kevin O’Neill. One of the great stylists of British comics, his work is unmistakable. 2000AD, who published much of King Kev’s imperial phase, has a lovely tribute to an artist who was too wild for the American market. He was skilled at putting beautiful nightmares on the page. We shall not see his like again.
Sigh. OK, let’s move to a more cheerful aspect of the comics scene. This time of year is fruitful for UK graphic arts festivals, with The Lakes and Thought Bubble happening within weeks of each other. Artist and writer Andi Watson sat down for a chat at The Lakes a few weeks back, talking about how and why he does what he does. He’s a rather lovely chap, which makes for a rather lovely interview.
Films don’t have to be about big budgets, superstars and all the CGI you can cram onto screen. The really interesting projects come out of those situations where you have to think on your feet and work with what you have. Sometimes, polish and sparkle is the last thing you need…
The inhabitants of Useless Farm are not the prettiest or most elegant of specimens. But they have personality to spare. This one goes out to the misfits and oddballs. May you all find a home where you can be yourselves.
Big fans of Ruby Tandoh round here. Bake Off may have brought her into the public eye, but she has transcended that increasingly soggy-bottomed label to forge her own path. Her latest book is, like other cooks we love (Nigel, Jack, Otam) shifting the focus away from the strict recipe towards more of a vibe, based less on what’s on the page and more on what you have. It’s a reflection, we think, of the way a lot of home cooks operate in the kitchen anyway.
Props to our pal Graham Williams for bringing this one to our attention. A clever use of light, shape, and above all, shadow merge to create art which is both ephemeral and affecting.
This week marks the hundredth anniversary of Kurt Vonnegut’s birth. A writer of rare skill, his work is deceptively simple yet filled with a quiet power. Now is a good time to start on his books if you’ve never had the pleasure. Slaughterhouse-5 is the core text, but honestly most of his work from The Sirens Of Titan on will hit the spot. Come, join the karass.
A quote from Kurt which we’ve taken as serious advice here at The Cut goes as follows:
There’s only one rule that I know of, babies—God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.
It turns out, as this fine piece of work from Everything Is Amazing makes clear, that’s a good rule to live by. A little kindness is good for you, your neighbours and even those you think are against you ..
And finally. The Weird Al Yankovich biopic is out. By all accounts it slaps and you should check it out. We love Weird Al. We love food. Turns out he has written a lot of food-related songs. We cannot ignore this merging of our interests. Neither should you.
And that’s it. Nanowrimo is, as always, hugely rewarding but deeply knackering. We’ll let Madeline Khan tell it like it is.
See you in seven, earthlings.
