The North (And Almost Everything In it) by Paul Morley review

Manchester so much to answer for. Paul Morley's affectionate work of cultural history suffers from an overly rhapsodic tone

One of the many fascinating chunks of information to be found in Paul Morley's study of northern England is that the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, who once worked as an aeronautical engineer at Manchester University, used to attend concerts at the city's Free Trade Hall and whistle his way through entire symphonies. Twenty or so years later, the 12-year-old Mancunian Anthony Burgess, who would eventually become a composer as well as a renowned novelist, was taken to the same venue by his father to hear the Hallé orchestra perform Wagner.

Morley's book, however, fails to record that this great musical tradition suffered a steep decline. Three decades later, I myself stood on the stage of the Free Trade Hall clad in red blazer and grey shorts, singing shamelessly chauvinistic songs as a member of the school choir on Speech Day. The chauvinism, I now recognise, was an attempt by my Irish immigrant community to ingratiate itself with mainstream English culture. Within a few square miles of my home, a band of Salford men and women en route to stardom revealed their Irish origins in their surnames: Albert Finney, Shelagh Delaney, Steven Morrissey, John Cooper Clarke. Burgess can be an Irish name, and so can Morley.