Dear followers
First of all, apologies to those of you who were expecting a frequent flow of finger on the pulse live travelogues from the Sage during my five weeks in India. Despite my best intentions, intermittent half hours of internet browsing seemed to evaporate into a flurry of Facebook updates and football score checking, leaving no time for more detailed (some would say bloated and verbose) musings.
Now I'm back on home soil and with plenty of time on my hands as I dip my toe unenthusiastically back into the employment market, I will do my best to update you on my travels through a series of unapologetically self-indulgent ramblings.
Rewind nearly six weeks, and I stepped off an overnight flight to Delhi and ambled straight into my first experience of the Indians' impressive persistence in trying to sell you things you couldn't possibly want. After introductory pleasantries (where are you from, what is your job, are you married, what are the names of all your family and their life stories etc) I was asked by my taxi driver if I wanted to go and buy a carpet as he could get a very good price. Now let me think about this. I've just got off a 9 hour flight, I've been up for nearly 24 hours and I probably smell. So, with the greatest of respect, I think I'd rather just go to my hotel and get some sleep, thanks all the same.
"How about a scarf. I have very nice scarves, very good price." Errr... still no I'm afraid. "Perhaps a shirt for you sir, very good price." That's very kind, but I have everything I need thanks, please can you take me to my hotel now. "Yes sir, no problem sir. But first, do you want to buy a carpet?"
I was begrudgingly dropped off at my destination and the first person I met as I stepped out of the cab was a beggar with no legs. "Welcome to India sir," he said in flawless English. Delhi is certainly no place for those in search of a sanitised, perfectly manicured city break. The roads are a chaotic maelstrom of honking tuk tuks, fume-spluttering cars and kamikaze cyclists, with no traffic system whatsoever to control it. I swiftly learnt that the only way to get anywhere was to simply stride out confidently into the sea of vehicles and hope they decided to drive around me rather than through me. Surprisingly, this system works rather well for both pedestrian and motorist, and I found that in India in general the kind of hair raising incidents that would provoke severe road rage in the UK are simply shrugged off as part and parcel of trying to get from A to B.
Delhi is also widely considered to be the most polluted place on earth, and after a few hours there, my throat felt like I'd gone back to my 20 Marlboro Reds a day habit of my student years. The city's pavements also need to be negotiated with care, not just because of the yawning potholes and cracks big enough for an elephant to fall down, but also the streams of urine sprayed onto the street by the local population, who seem willing to unzip with a cock-flapping abandon that rivals the most weak-bladdered Saturday night drunk. And then there's the grinding poverty, not just individual beggars, some with horrific deformities, but whole families living together in makeshift shacks of cloth, wood and scrap iron, mothers cooking and children playing as the rest of the world walks past seemingly oblivious to their desperate yet strangely orderly lives.
Despite all of these things, I loved Delhi. There's no better place to immerse yourself in the whole spectrum of Indian society, which lest we forget has more dollar billionaires than the UK and one of the fastest growing economies in the world as well as an estimated 250 million people living below the poverty line. New Delhi's grand government buildings and wide, leafy boulevards would not look out of place in Paris, while the old city's labyrinthine bazaar, ancient mosques and temples are typical of India's rich cultural heritage. Historical sites of interest are everywhere, from the serenely peaceful Gandhi Smrti (where the great man was assassinated) to the awe-inspiring Qutb Minar mosque complex, which boasts the world's tallest minaret.
I could quite happily have spent another few days exploring India's capital, but the tour I'd joined was now underway and my next stop was Jaipur, the famous Pink City of Rajasthan. This really is the quintessential India many of us will have seen in the history books - impossibly grand and colourful palaces and forts, occupied by fierce native princes perched imperiously on their war elephants. India's a republic these days, but many of the old royal families still reside in their ancestral homes, making sure the memories of their illustrious past are kept alive.
While there was much to see and enjoy in Jaipur - I made a characteristically uncoordinated attempt at Rajastanhi folk dancing, and even tried on a sari - the city will for me forever be associated with my first (and thankfully last) bout of Delhi Belly.
I was sticking to my pre-trip pledge to go veggie, and had sailed through my first few days in India without the slightest hint of a rogue bowel movement. But as I sat down to my aloo gobi after a most enjoyable evening at a Bollywood cinema (watching, somewhat bizarrely, a Hindi film about a British Asian cricketer in London) I knew that something was wrong as I felt a surging sickness moving up from my stomach. I barely left the bathroom for the next 9 hours, which developed into a ghastly combination of an industrial mudchute on overdrive and an audition for the part of the possessed girl in The Exorcist. The next morning I was so drained I could barely pack my suitcase, and it took all my remaining energy to drag my Immodium-riddled body onto the bus where I lay pitifully hoping that my pants would survive the forthcoming three hour journey.
I later concluded that the culprit was not some devilishly spiced Indian concoction, but rather a humble vegetarian pizza , consumed in a supposedly reputable Jaipur restaurant which also claimed several other victims in our group over the next 24 hours. The Sage spent the next 24 hours on a frugal diet of water and rehydration tablets, weary but determined to mount a full recovery as his visit to the Taj Mahal drew ever closer.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Friday, 11 February 2011
Film Review: Another Year
Every once in a while, a film comes along that reminds you that the British cinema industry is still capable of delivering more than saccharine period dramas and Cockney gangster capers. Mike Leigh's Another Year, released late in 2010 but currently enjoying a short run at Bermondsey's splendid Shortwave Cinema, is just such a work.
Since the late 1970s, Mancunian Leigh has directed a steady stream of plays, TV dramas and full length features skilfully analysing the quietly dysfunctional relationships that go on within communities all across Britain. Unlike say Ken Loach, Leigh generally avoids wallowing in cliches about the downtrodden but spirited working classes and instead presents a more even handed portrayal of people from all across society.
Another Year focuses on 12 months in the life of Tom and Geri (yes really) an affable, contented professional couple enjoying late middle age in London suburbia. As with many Leigh films, there is no plot as such. What we get instead is a quartet of extended set pieces, themed around the four seasons, providing a platform for some wonderfully observed interaction between a group of fantastic actors, often asked by Leigh to improvise dialogue (he starts all his projects without a script) for heightened authenticity.
The central couple (played with great warmth and humour by Jim Broadbent and Ruth Sheen) are essentially an advertisement for the benefits of long-term, stable companionship, acting as a social hub and rock of support for the more troubled lives of their friends and family, who by and large do not seem to have such a fulfilled existence.
Whether it's son Joe (30 something and single), Tom's brother Ronnie (recently bereaved) or most prominently Geri's work colleague Mary (bitterly divorced), the other people in Tom and Geri's world are all portrayed as victims of loneliness. While Joe appears to receive redemption later in the film by meeting a new partner, mutton dressed as lamb Mary (Lesley Manville, superb), approaching 50 and clearly desperate for love, sinks further into depression, drink and an unhealthy dependence on Tom and Geri, who are torn between their good natured compassion for a troubled soul and an increasing irritation at her behaviour.
During the year, we witness dinner parties, barbecues, after work drinks, rounds of golf - in other words, all the day to day events that many of us experience every week. Most affecting of all is Tom's return to his native Derby to oversee the funeral of brother Ronnie's wife, which perfectly captures the tense awkwardness of an estranged family forced to engage with one another again by a shared loss.
Whether it's Mary chattering inanely about the new car she picked up for £600, Tom and his old school friend Ken wistfully recalling the glory years of Derby County football club or Joe's new girlfriend Katie nervously giggling at every joke during a first meeting with his parents, Another Year is that rare thing - a film depicting ordinary, fundamentally decent people with good points and bad points going about their lives in a normal way, sometimes having to face up to challenges and deal with them as best they can. Those seeking fast paced action and show stopping drama may struggle with the more understated charms on offer here, but viewers prepared to show patience will be amply rewarded.
Leigh has directed some great films in his time - the nightmarish Naked and the poignant Vera Drake to name but two. But this life affirming combination of real, human characters in real, human situations may be his best work yet.
Since the late 1970s, Mancunian Leigh has directed a steady stream of plays, TV dramas and full length features skilfully analysing the quietly dysfunctional relationships that go on within communities all across Britain. Unlike say Ken Loach, Leigh generally avoids wallowing in cliches about the downtrodden but spirited working classes and instead presents a more even handed portrayal of people from all across society.
Another Year focuses on 12 months in the life of Tom and Geri (yes really) an affable, contented professional couple enjoying late middle age in London suburbia. As with many Leigh films, there is no plot as such. What we get instead is a quartet of extended set pieces, themed around the four seasons, providing a platform for some wonderfully observed interaction between a group of fantastic actors, often asked by Leigh to improvise dialogue (he starts all his projects without a script) for heightened authenticity.
The central couple (played with great warmth and humour by Jim Broadbent and Ruth Sheen) are essentially an advertisement for the benefits of long-term, stable companionship, acting as a social hub and rock of support for the more troubled lives of their friends and family, who by and large do not seem to have such a fulfilled existence.
Whether it's son Joe (30 something and single), Tom's brother Ronnie (recently bereaved) or most prominently Geri's work colleague Mary (bitterly divorced), the other people in Tom and Geri's world are all portrayed as victims of loneliness. While Joe appears to receive redemption later in the film by meeting a new partner, mutton dressed as lamb Mary (Lesley Manville, superb), approaching 50 and clearly desperate for love, sinks further into depression, drink and an unhealthy dependence on Tom and Geri, who are torn between their good natured compassion for a troubled soul and an increasing irritation at her behaviour.
During the year, we witness dinner parties, barbecues, after work drinks, rounds of golf - in other words, all the day to day events that many of us experience every week. Most affecting of all is Tom's return to his native Derby to oversee the funeral of brother Ronnie's wife, which perfectly captures the tense awkwardness of an estranged family forced to engage with one another again by a shared loss.
Whether it's Mary chattering inanely about the new car she picked up for £600, Tom and his old school friend Ken wistfully recalling the glory years of Derby County football club or Joe's new girlfriend Katie nervously giggling at every joke during a first meeting with his parents, Another Year is that rare thing - a film depicting ordinary, fundamentally decent people with good points and bad points going about their lives in a normal way, sometimes having to face up to challenges and deal with them as best they can. Those seeking fast paced action and show stopping drama may struggle with the more understated charms on offer here, but viewers prepared to show patience will be amply rewarded.
Leigh has directed some great films in his time - the nightmarish Naked and the poignant Vera Drake to name but two. But this life affirming combination of real, human characters in real, human situations may be his best work yet.
Friday, 14 January 2011
Thoughts on bonuses and banker bashing
It's over two years since the collapse of Lehman Brothers, the bail-out of some of the UK's biggest banks as part of the Gordon Brown(remember him?)inspired global financial stimulus and the disintegration of Iceland's spectacularly overstretched economy. While still undoubtedly sickly, with basement interest rates, high employment and draconian lending conditions, the UK seems to have moved off life support and has entered a period of cautious convalescence.
Yet what apparently hasn't changed at all is the attitude of 95% of the UK population towards 'the bankers', who have become a detested breed synonomous with all the ills of post-credit crunch society. What makes this even more galling for many other folk is the apparent lack of contrition from senior figures in the financial services sector about how close the arcane instruments of their trade came to plunging the UK into economic meltdown. Big bonuses are back, just in time to coincide with the increase in tuition fees and VAT and the coalition's decimation of public services spending.
The Sage worked in the City for many years, and like the vast majority of people in the Square Mile, was adequately but not lavishly renumerated, with a bonus that might stretch to a holiday in the sun rather than my own villa there. A century ago, the great manufacturing industries of Britain's golden age were still the main engines of the nation's employment, but those days are long gone with the emerging markets of Asia now offering a far cheaper workshop of the world. Like it or not, financial services is now the UK's leading industry - which was why the government had no option but to bail it out - and the legions of PAs, administrators, call centre agents and middle managers who commute into to the City every day to make a living do not deserve to be tarred with the same brush as the small number of bankers being paid astronomical sums. Yet in my experience others do not always see the distinction.
The other point I would raise is the element of culpability society as a whole has for the financial crisis. Since the 1980s, we have spiralled into a credit vortex, victims of the 'must have' material culture of entitlement in my view attributable to the every man for himself, 'greed is good' ethos espoused by Margaret Thatcher and her administration. The stigma of debt, whether it be through ever-increasing credit card limits or the availability 100% mortgages, gradually decreased, and our weakness in the face of temptation created the raw ingredients that allowed the bankers to concoct their ever more intricate and toxic potions. In short, it's not just the financial services sector's fault that we're in this mess. Lots of people in the UK and elsewhere in the developed world used credit to live beyond their means - a time bomb waiting to go off.
Having said all of that, banks certainly should feel a moral responsibility in the current climate to show more restraint in the payment of bonuses and at least acknowledge public opprobrium. But assuming that many of them don't, then the buck stops with the government as the representatives of the British people to do something about it. Higher taxation is a start, but that won't stop sky high bonuses. It also has to be accepted that Cameron and his colleagues are not in a position to dictate the behaviour of the many overseas banks operating in the UK, or even those British companies that didn't need to take taxpayers' money. But I find it hard to accept that the government can't flex its muscles more with those institutions where the taxpayer is the majority owner. Surely someone who has an 82% stake in any business should have the final say on how much its workforce are paid?? There's a persuasive argument that reducing renumeration at bailed out banks will lead to a talent exodus, which in turn will make the banks less competitive to the further detriment of the taxpayer. Yet in an industry the size of the City there's always hungry new talent coming through and that new talent can be given its head.
A cliche it may be, but it's also important to remember that the banking sector and its problems are truly global. So unless there is unanimous accord across the financial services sector worldwide to change their ways and scale down bonuses across the board, then there's only so much governments or anyone else can do. The Sage for one is not holding his breath on that one.
Yet what apparently hasn't changed at all is the attitude of 95% of the UK population towards 'the bankers', who have become a detested breed synonomous with all the ills of post-credit crunch society. What makes this even more galling for many other folk is the apparent lack of contrition from senior figures in the financial services sector about how close the arcane instruments of their trade came to plunging the UK into economic meltdown. Big bonuses are back, just in time to coincide with the increase in tuition fees and VAT and the coalition's decimation of public services spending.
The Sage worked in the City for many years, and like the vast majority of people in the Square Mile, was adequately but not lavishly renumerated, with a bonus that might stretch to a holiday in the sun rather than my own villa there. A century ago, the great manufacturing industries of Britain's golden age were still the main engines of the nation's employment, but those days are long gone with the emerging markets of Asia now offering a far cheaper workshop of the world. Like it or not, financial services is now the UK's leading industry - which was why the government had no option but to bail it out - and the legions of PAs, administrators, call centre agents and middle managers who commute into to the City every day to make a living do not deserve to be tarred with the same brush as the small number of bankers being paid astronomical sums. Yet in my experience others do not always see the distinction.
The other point I would raise is the element of culpability society as a whole has for the financial crisis. Since the 1980s, we have spiralled into a credit vortex, victims of the 'must have' material culture of entitlement in my view attributable to the every man for himself, 'greed is good' ethos espoused by Margaret Thatcher and her administration. The stigma of debt, whether it be through ever-increasing credit card limits or the availability 100% mortgages, gradually decreased, and our weakness in the face of temptation created the raw ingredients that allowed the bankers to concoct their ever more intricate and toxic potions. In short, it's not just the financial services sector's fault that we're in this mess. Lots of people in the UK and elsewhere in the developed world used credit to live beyond their means - a time bomb waiting to go off.
Having said all of that, banks certainly should feel a moral responsibility in the current climate to show more restraint in the payment of bonuses and at least acknowledge public opprobrium. But assuming that many of them don't, then the buck stops with the government as the representatives of the British people to do something about it. Higher taxation is a start, but that won't stop sky high bonuses. It also has to be accepted that Cameron and his colleagues are not in a position to dictate the behaviour of the many overseas banks operating in the UK, or even those British companies that didn't need to take taxpayers' money. But I find it hard to accept that the government can't flex its muscles more with those institutions where the taxpayer is the majority owner. Surely someone who has an 82% stake in any business should have the final say on how much its workforce are paid?? There's a persuasive argument that reducing renumeration at bailed out banks will lead to a talent exodus, which in turn will make the banks less competitive to the further detriment of the taxpayer. Yet in an industry the size of the City there's always hungry new talent coming through and that new talent can be given its head.
A cliche it may be, but it's also important to remember that the banking sector and its problems are truly global. So unless there is unanimous accord across the financial services sector worldwide to change their ways and scale down bonuses across the board, then there's only so much governments or anyone else can do. The Sage for one is not holding his breath on that one.
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
The Sage's Desert Island Discs
Dear followers
Happy New Year all. The Sage has returned from a spell wintering in Burton upon Trent, and decided to while away a couple of hours selecting my Desert Island Discs in anticipation of an imminent invitation from Kirsty Young. Whittling down a lifetime of music to just eight songs proved to be no mean feat, and I feel I've betrayed some great artists like Neil Young, Van Morrison and Black Lace by not including them.
But I've finally made my choices, so in no particular order, here are the songs the Sage has selected should I ever find myself abandoned on a remote South Pacific archipelago. You can view YouTube clips of each of my choices by clicking on the song titles. Enjoy!
Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon and Garfunkel
Covered and played to death, the greatness of this song still remains undimmed for me. The piano led melody is almost hymnal, the strings gradually build to an epic, swirling conclusion, and above it all is Art Garfunkel singing like an angel. A towering work of perfection.
God Only Knows - The Beach Boys
Another golden oldie, but has there ever been a more skilled arranger in popular music than Brian Wilson? The harmonies in this song are quite simply spine-tingling, backed by some sublime orchestration and another wonderful lead vocal from Brian's brother Carl.
Blue Monday - New Order
I'd need something to tap my toes to on that desert island, and this immensely influential record was arguably the first to successfully blend dance music with indie. Menacing, funky, catchy and cool all at the same time, so much of what's followed over the past 25 years owes its existence to Blue Monday.
This Charming Man - The Smiths
Staying with Manchester in the 80s, and The Smiths are in the view of the Sage up there with the Beatles as the best British band of all time. I nearly didn't choose this particular song after hearing that David Cameron included it in his Desert Island discs recently, but it's such a perfect distillation of everything that made The Smiths great that I swallowed my pride in the end.
The Swan from Carnival Of The Animals - Camille Saint Saens
The Sage quite likes a bit of classical music on the sly, and in the interests of a balanced octet I've included this heartbreakingly beautiful recording from The Carnival Of The Animals to soothe me in my seclusion. The cello playing is so expressive it almost weeps.
Just Like A Woman - Bob Dylan
I could have picked any one of a dozen Dylan songs from his formidable back catalogue, but this one has always been my favourite. It's Bob at his most accessible, with a lilting, yearning melody, floating organ, bar room piano, harmonica and a lovely Spanish-style guitar. Plus the lyrics make more sense than usual.
Saturday - The Clientele
My one left field choice - a marvellously melancholy song by the most criminally underrated band of modern times. Virtually noone's ever heard of London's The Clientele, but if you want an atmospheric soundtrack to a late night alone, you'll struggle to find better than this.
God - John Lennon
Like Dylan, I could have chosen any one of a large number of Beatles songs, but this track from Lennon's solo debut is to me more powerful than anything he recorded as part of the Fab Four. Unlike the rather sickly proselytising of the much more famous but vastly inferior Imagine, this shows John at his most angry but also his most poetic.
So there we have it - my Desert Island Discs! It will probably change next week, but in the meantime, feel free to share your views on my choices.
Kind regards
The Sage
Happy New Year all. The Sage has returned from a spell wintering in Burton upon Trent, and decided to while away a couple of hours selecting my Desert Island Discs in anticipation of an imminent invitation from Kirsty Young. Whittling down a lifetime of music to just eight songs proved to be no mean feat, and I feel I've betrayed some great artists like Neil Young, Van Morrison and Black Lace by not including them.
But I've finally made my choices, so in no particular order, here are the songs the Sage has selected should I ever find myself abandoned on a remote South Pacific archipelago. You can view YouTube clips of each of my choices by clicking on the song titles. Enjoy!
Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon and Garfunkel
Covered and played to death, the greatness of this song still remains undimmed for me. The piano led melody is almost hymnal, the strings gradually build to an epic, swirling conclusion, and above it all is Art Garfunkel singing like an angel. A towering work of perfection.
God Only Knows - The Beach Boys
Another golden oldie, but has there ever been a more skilled arranger in popular music than Brian Wilson? The harmonies in this song are quite simply spine-tingling, backed by some sublime orchestration and another wonderful lead vocal from Brian's brother Carl.
Blue Monday - New Order
I'd need something to tap my toes to on that desert island, and this immensely influential record was arguably the first to successfully blend dance music with indie. Menacing, funky, catchy and cool all at the same time, so much of what's followed over the past 25 years owes its existence to Blue Monday.
This Charming Man - The Smiths
Staying with Manchester in the 80s, and The Smiths are in the view of the Sage up there with the Beatles as the best British band of all time. I nearly didn't choose this particular song after hearing that David Cameron included it in his Desert Island discs recently, but it's such a perfect distillation of everything that made The Smiths great that I swallowed my pride in the end.
The Swan from Carnival Of The Animals - Camille Saint Saens
The Sage quite likes a bit of classical music on the sly, and in the interests of a balanced octet I've included this heartbreakingly beautiful recording from The Carnival Of The Animals to soothe me in my seclusion. The cello playing is so expressive it almost weeps.
Just Like A Woman - Bob Dylan
I could have picked any one of a dozen Dylan songs from his formidable back catalogue, but this one has always been my favourite. It's Bob at his most accessible, with a lilting, yearning melody, floating organ, bar room piano, harmonica and a lovely Spanish-style guitar. Plus the lyrics make more sense than usual.
Saturday - The Clientele
My one left field choice - a marvellously melancholy song by the most criminally underrated band of modern times. Virtually noone's ever heard of London's The Clientele, but if you want an atmospheric soundtrack to a late night alone, you'll struggle to find better than this.
God - John Lennon
Like Dylan, I could have chosen any one of a large number of Beatles songs, but this track from Lennon's solo debut is to me more powerful than anything he recorded as part of the Fab Four. Unlike the rather sickly proselytising of the much more famous but vastly inferior Imagine, this shows John at his most angry but also his most poetic.
So there we have it - my Desert Island Discs! It will probably change next week, but in the meantime, feel free to share your views on my choices.
Kind regards
The Sage
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Why is BBC Sports Personality Of The Year always so crap?
Every year it's the same. Two hours of television with approximately five minutes of actual sporting action shown. Mind numbingly dull interviews with the great and the good conducted by permatan Lineker, an increasingly mumsy Sue and that gangly bloke off the motor racing. A couple of pointless, monumentally unentertaining gimmicks almost totally unconnected to the subject of the show. And at the end, the winner is usually someone who doesn't actually have much of a personality at all.
It all could have been so different had Phil 'The Power' Taylor won. As well as being world champion a staggering 15 times, the darts colossus has the added appeal of being a genuine character, a throwback to an earlier era when sports stars were normal people unsullied by the machinations of PR and willing to remain themselves. Grinning, fist-pumping, cracking gags with friends in the audience - The Power was in his element, and his ample girth is comforting proof to everyone that you don't need the body of a Greek god to reach the top in every sport.
The contrast between Stoke-on-Trent's finest and the recipient of this evening's Lifetime Achievement Award couldn't be more stark. Presumably Mr Beckham was given this award at the tender age of 35 to ensure his high profile attendance - although unlike the rest of the audience he clearly insisted that all his immediate family were invited too before accepting.
I don't dispute that Becks is a fine ambassador for English football, and he was a very, very good, though not great player for many years. But this 'award' smacks of the BBC cynically pandering to the cult of personality rather than focusing on the people who have actually been the most significant sporting achievers of 2010. The ex-England international's Oscar-like acceptance speech played mawkishly to the gallery as usual and was at least 27 times longer than the airtime given to any of the 10 Personality Of The Year nominees.
Even so, the Sage would rather listen to Beckham's platitudinous ramblings continuously for a week than suffer another 30 seconds of James Corden. I came across this monstrously unfunny man stuffing his face in an Italian restaurant recently and nearly asked him how he has managed to build such a successful career when it seems the sum total of his talent is being a lairy fat bloke. A comedy routine based around the less than shocking revelation that darts players like a pint and trying to molest Sue Barker does not justify a slot on primetime television,and I was left hoping that Phil The Power would take exception to Corden's slur upon his profession and proceed to pepper him with perfectly aimed tungsten tipped projectiles until he cried for mercy.
Oh - and well done A.P. McCoy. Who are you again??
It all could have been so different had Phil 'The Power' Taylor won. As well as being world champion a staggering 15 times, the darts colossus has the added appeal of being a genuine character, a throwback to an earlier era when sports stars were normal people unsullied by the machinations of PR and willing to remain themselves. Grinning, fist-pumping, cracking gags with friends in the audience - The Power was in his element, and his ample girth is comforting proof to everyone that you don't need the body of a Greek god to reach the top in every sport.
The contrast between Stoke-on-Trent's finest and the recipient of this evening's Lifetime Achievement Award couldn't be more stark. Presumably Mr Beckham was given this award at the tender age of 35 to ensure his high profile attendance - although unlike the rest of the audience he clearly insisted that all his immediate family were invited too before accepting.
I don't dispute that Becks is a fine ambassador for English football, and he was a very, very good, though not great player for many years. But this 'award' smacks of the BBC cynically pandering to the cult of personality rather than focusing on the people who have actually been the most significant sporting achievers of 2010. The ex-England international's Oscar-like acceptance speech played mawkishly to the gallery as usual and was at least 27 times longer than the airtime given to any of the 10 Personality Of The Year nominees.
Even so, the Sage would rather listen to Beckham's platitudinous ramblings continuously for a week than suffer another 30 seconds of James Corden. I came across this monstrously unfunny man stuffing his face in an Italian restaurant recently and nearly asked him how he has managed to build such a successful career when it seems the sum total of his talent is being a lairy fat bloke. A comedy routine based around the less than shocking revelation that darts players like a pint and trying to molest Sue Barker does not justify a slot on primetime television,and I was left hoping that Phil The Power would take exception to Corden's slur upon his profession and proceed to pepper him with perfectly aimed tungsten tipped projectiles until he cried for mercy.
Oh - and well done A.P. McCoy. Who are you again??
Friday, 17 December 2010
The Sage's Top 10 Albums of 2010
Dear followers
2010 has not in the Sage's humble opinion been a vintage year for music, with no true modern classic emerging to really set the pulse racing. Nevertheless, there's still been a number of excellent records released over the past 12 months that I would urge you all to check out if you haven't done so already.
Please see below a list of my Top 10 albums of the year, together with links to performances by all the artists for those of you who'd like to find out more about them.
As always, your views are most welcome!
Regards
The Sage
1 Beach House - Teen Dream
Blissful and hypnotic, this record may well go down as 2010's Fleet Foxes and give Beach House the genuine mainstream success they richly deserve. Teen Dream boasts a dynamic that is both epic and ethereal at the same time, with Victoria LeGrand's bewitching vocals soaring gorgeously over layers of reverbing guitar and floating organ. I haven’t stopped listening to this since I bought it in January. My album of the year.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZxrIbTMJr4
2 John Grant - The Queen Of Denmark
Imagine if ELO had grown up gay in the American Midwest and you'll have some idea what John Grant sounds like. After years of obscurity as the front man of indie underachievers The Czars, the Denver troubadour teamed up with his more successful friends Midlake to produce an album that combines sublime orchestration with bittersweet lyrics as its creator recounts his experiences as a small town outsider. Fans of 70s FM rock should really give this a go.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzWQSabtWLs
3 I Am Kloot – The Sky At Night
This trio of gnarled, scruffy Mancunians have chugged along on the margins of the UK indie scene for a decade now, but a Guy Garvey-produced collection of stately, elegant compositions gave I Am Kloot a richly deserved Mercury prize nomination. Jonny Bramwell's eloquent tales of outsiders, underachievers, drinkers and dreamers on the margins of society make him one of the best and most original songwriters around.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oqB3d6Pklw&feature=fvsr
4 The National – High Violet
Like I Am Kloot, The National have been around a while, but these Baltimore natives have become the darling of the critics this year with this outstanding album. A more world-weary, emotionally engaging American answer to The Editors, Matt Berninger’s sonorous baritone certainly sounds like he’s been round the block a few times and is the perfect voice to front his band’s meticulously structured, cinematic rock.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfySK7CLEEg
5 Vampire Weekend - Contra
There's an awful lot of preppy American Ivy League graduates churning too clever by half, jerky indie pop records these days, but Brooklyn's Vampire Weekend remain worthy of the hype. Yes, almost everything they do owes a huge debt to Paul Simon's Graceland, and they pretentiously pontificate on subjects like drinking horchata. But with melodies this joyous and beats this infectious, you can forgive them their indulgences.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaTgDgCSh-w
6 Tame Impala – Innerspeaker
Credible Australian rock groups are something of a rare commodity so it’s a welcome surprise that these natives of Perth have delivered arguably the year’s best debut album. Steeped in the sounds of 60s San Francisco psychedelia and early Pink Floyd, this woozy, reverb heavy record is trippy but accessible and those who enjoyed Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion in 2009 will find Tame Impala to be very much cut from the same cloth.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jekYAm3fkA
7 Chief – Modern Rituals
Another outstanding 2010 debut came from California’s Chief, the latest in a steady stream of excellent groups to emerge from the West Coast in recent years. But with their chiming guitars and anthemic choruses, this four piece have as much in common with British bands like Coldplay and Doves as their country-rock contemporaries. Of all the albums on my list, Modern Rituals would probably appeal to the broadest range of listeners.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAODjl_pUbY
8 The Tallest Man On Earth – The Wild Hunt
Had Bob Dylan been cryogenically frozen in 1963, transported to rural Sweden and then revived in 2010, the next album he made would probably have closely resembled The Wild Hunt. Kristian Mattson’s song writing, voice and guitar playing are uncannily similar to the great man in his acoustic pomp, but this lack of originality scarcely matters when he can pen tunes as instantly catchy as The King Of Spain and Love Is All.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvWstzEUTfU
9 Sufjan Stevens – All Delighted People EP
Only Stevens would opt to release an EP that is actually considerably longer than most albums at nearly 60 minutes. Having long since abandoned his much-quoted plan to write a musical tribute to each of America’s 50 states, these sprawling, meditative songs are a heady brew of folksy banjo plucking, orchestral flourishes, electronic burbles and enigmatic lyrics peppered with biblical references that typify the Detroit maverick’s unique talent.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uvfg4hntSGA
10 Bellowhead – Hedonism
This 11 piece big band take traditional English folk songs and bring them bang up to date by adding elements of jazz, funk, rock and almost every other genre imaginable. Although Bellowhead are perhaps best appreciated at one of their riotously entertaining live performances, Hedonism is nevertheless a fine record, its dazzling musicianship combining with an infectious energy that’s a far cry from the genre’s woollen sweater and real ale stereotype.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQ9joSfUB5k
2010 has not in the Sage's humble opinion been a vintage year for music, with no true modern classic emerging to really set the pulse racing. Nevertheless, there's still been a number of excellent records released over the past 12 months that I would urge you all to check out if you haven't done so already.
Please see below a list of my Top 10 albums of the year, together with links to performances by all the artists for those of you who'd like to find out more about them.
As always, your views are most welcome!
Regards
The Sage
1 Beach House - Teen Dream
Blissful and hypnotic, this record may well go down as 2010's Fleet Foxes and give Beach House the genuine mainstream success they richly deserve. Teen Dream boasts a dynamic that is both epic and ethereal at the same time, with Victoria LeGrand's bewitching vocals soaring gorgeously over layers of reverbing guitar and floating organ. I haven’t stopped listening to this since I bought it in January. My album of the year.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZxrIbTMJr4
2 John Grant - The Queen Of Denmark
Imagine if ELO had grown up gay in the American Midwest and you'll have some idea what John Grant sounds like. After years of obscurity as the front man of indie underachievers The Czars, the Denver troubadour teamed up with his more successful friends Midlake to produce an album that combines sublime orchestration with bittersweet lyrics as its creator recounts his experiences as a small town outsider. Fans of 70s FM rock should really give this a go.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzWQSabtWLs
3 I Am Kloot – The Sky At Night
This trio of gnarled, scruffy Mancunians have chugged along on the margins of the UK indie scene for a decade now, but a Guy Garvey-produced collection of stately, elegant compositions gave I Am Kloot a richly deserved Mercury prize nomination. Jonny Bramwell's eloquent tales of outsiders, underachievers, drinkers and dreamers on the margins of society make him one of the best and most original songwriters around.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oqB3d6Pklw&feature=fvsr
4 The National – High Violet
Like I Am Kloot, The National have been around a while, but these Baltimore natives have become the darling of the critics this year with this outstanding album. A more world-weary, emotionally engaging American answer to The Editors, Matt Berninger’s sonorous baritone certainly sounds like he’s been round the block a few times and is the perfect voice to front his band’s meticulously structured, cinematic rock.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfySK7CLEEg
5 Vampire Weekend - Contra
There's an awful lot of preppy American Ivy League graduates churning too clever by half, jerky indie pop records these days, but Brooklyn's Vampire Weekend remain worthy of the hype. Yes, almost everything they do owes a huge debt to Paul Simon's Graceland, and they pretentiously pontificate on subjects like drinking horchata. But with melodies this joyous and beats this infectious, you can forgive them their indulgences.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaTgDgCSh-w
6 Tame Impala – Innerspeaker
Credible Australian rock groups are something of a rare commodity so it’s a welcome surprise that these natives of Perth have delivered arguably the year’s best debut album. Steeped in the sounds of 60s San Francisco psychedelia and early Pink Floyd, this woozy, reverb heavy record is trippy but accessible and those who enjoyed Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion in 2009 will find Tame Impala to be very much cut from the same cloth.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jekYAm3fkA
7 Chief – Modern Rituals
Another outstanding 2010 debut came from California’s Chief, the latest in a steady stream of excellent groups to emerge from the West Coast in recent years. But with their chiming guitars and anthemic choruses, this four piece have as much in common with British bands like Coldplay and Doves as their country-rock contemporaries. Of all the albums on my list, Modern Rituals would probably appeal to the broadest range of listeners.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAODjl_pUbY
8 The Tallest Man On Earth – The Wild Hunt
Had Bob Dylan been cryogenically frozen in 1963, transported to rural Sweden and then revived in 2010, the next album he made would probably have closely resembled The Wild Hunt. Kristian Mattson’s song writing, voice and guitar playing are uncannily similar to the great man in his acoustic pomp, but this lack of originality scarcely matters when he can pen tunes as instantly catchy as The King Of Spain and Love Is All.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvWstzEUTfU
9 Sufjan Stevens – All Delighted People EP
Only Stevens would opt to release an EP that is actually considerably longer than most albums at nearly 60 minutes. Having long since abandoned his much-quoted plan to write a musical tribute to each of America’s 50 states, these sprawling, meditative songs are a heady brew of folksy banjo plucking, orchestral flourishes, electronic burbles and enigmatic lyrics peppered with biblical references that typify the Detroit maverick’s unique talent.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uvfg4hntSGA
10 Bellowhead – Hedonism
This 11 piece big band take traditional English folk songs and bring them bang up to date by adding elements of jazz, funk, rock and almost every other genre imaginable. Although Bellowhead are perhaps best appreciated at one of their riotously entertaining live performances, Hedonism is nevertheless a fine record, its dazzling musicianship combining with an infectious energy that’s a far cry from the genre’s woollen sweater and real ale stereotype.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQ9joSfUB5k
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Recent BBC Reviews
Dear followers
Please see below my two most recent BBC reviews. Anna Calvi, out in January, is highly recommended for the more adventurous.
Regards
The Sage
Elliott Smith
http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/dwnv
Anna Calvi
http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/jjm5
Please see below my two most recent BBC reviews. Anna Calvi, out in January, is highly recommended for the more adventurous.
Regards
The Sage
Elliott Smith
http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/dwnv
Anna Calvi
http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/jjm5
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