Dear followers
First of all, fear not, the Sage has not forsaken you! Due to a combination of gainful employment, academic endeavours and assorted other leisure pursuits, I have been entirely absent from the blogosphere for four long months, for which I apologise unreservedly. However, I have roused myself for a brief comeback to offer you my humble views on the year that was 2011.
It's certainly been an eventful year for The Sage personally, starting off with an extended trip around what must be the most fascinating, colourful country on earth in India, spending the middle months pottering around South London reviewing ever more obscure music and ending 2011 settled back in the world of internal communications at EDF Energy.
For Britain as a whole, it's been a year of contrasts too. The opulence and feel good factor of April's royal wedding saw the country smugly basking in the pageantry of its past, but for much of 2011 the challenges of the present were all too real, with continuing economic stagnation, high unemployment and rioting in our cities on a scale not witnessed in modern times. It's all too easy to point the finger at David Cameron and his increasingly shambolic cabal of out of touch aristocrats, jingoistic Europhobes and disaffacted, emasculated Liberals for the nations's current ills, or indeed at the broadly successful but latterly naive Labour administration that preceded it.
The stark reality is that the current global economic situation and its associated effects are beyond the power of one party or indeed one country to address, and it can only be hoped that 2012 brings a final resolution to the Euro crisis, however bloody, and that the shockwaves this will inevitably cause can be controlled. Only once all the boils on the sick body are firmly lanced will the sick patient truly be able to recover.
So on to more important matters - the X Factor! The Sage longstanding and baffling addiction to a show he should rightfully despise continued in 2011, despite the absence of Mr Cowell and a talent roster thinner than ever before. The new judging panel was rather mixed - Barlow surly but watchable, Tulisa spikey but over-earnest, Louis the usual catalogue of cliches, Kelly Rowland largely unintelligible. The Sage hoped that feisty little Janet's Cranberries tribute act would win, but in the end Little Mix's competent cabaret won the day against the underwhelming comepetition of a pink-haired hollerer who had already been shown the door once and a camp Scouser with a Mexican pimp's moustache.
In the world of proper music, it wasn't a vintage year either, with no truly great album to match 2010's masterpieces from Beach House, John Grant and I Am Kloot. However, the Sage did enjoy New York's The Antlers, both on record and live. Their bleak, anthemic miserabilism is strangely uplifting, and their second album Burst Apart was one of the year's best. Elsewhere, Fionn Regan's wonderfully lush and pretty if occasionally overwrought folk balladry on 100 Acres Of Sycamore will melt all but the hardest hearts, Fleet Foxes made a strong return with their eponymous second album and The Low Anthem's Smart Flesh was a fine example of mellow Americana. Finally, a mention for Oh Minnows, who didn't allow the year's worst name to prevent them from delivering the year's best pop album with the sumptuous 80s synth feast of For Shadows(the review of which, just incidentally of course, also got The Sage a quote in The Guardian). The fact that the wretched Rihanna sells thousands of times the number of records of Chris Steele-Nicolson's one man band tells you all you need to know about the parlous state of western civilisation today.
At risk of sounding irredeemably negative about everything, 2011's cinema was also something of a disappointment for The Sage. There were some entertaining moments in the surprisingly successful Inbetweeners movie - the group dancing scene was worth the price of entry alone - while both The Coen Brothers' confident, charismatic version of True Grit and the visually compelling if pyschologically somewhat disturbing Black Swan were both highly accomplished. But the film of the year for me was Terence Malick's The Tree Of Life. Derided by some as over-long, too slow, incomprehensible, pretentious and hamstrung by its own over-reaching ambition, to some extent it is guilty of all these things. Yet it's nevertheless a joy to behold a director who's not afraid to take on as daunting a concept as the meaning of existence itself, and the stunning beauty of the cinematography elevates Malick's work into the realms of high art.
Finally sport, and a mixed 2011 for The Sage. While Derby County continue to define mediocrity in their seemingly eternal position in the lower half of the Championship, my other great love - the Welsh rugby union team - surpassed the expectations of almost everyone and reached the World Cup semi-finals. Every now and then, something clicks with Cymru and they play rugby to rival the best, and but for one ludicrous sending off against France, decided by an Irishman with the quintessentially Celtic name of Alain Rolland, Sam Warburton's men would surely have reached a richly deserved first final. A word too about Shane Williams, who retired earlier this month after a decade in the red jersey that saw him conjure up some of the most scintillatingly brilliant tries in the history of the sport. In these days of 16 stone wingers built like the second row forwards of 30 years ago, it's been a joy to see little Shane prove that brain can still defeat brawn when it's blessed with genius. Will we ever see his like again?
Well followers, that's my review of 2011 over. The Sage could type on forever, but instead I've decided to add a few links to some of my musings over the course of the year, with one or two added extras for good measure. All that remains is for me to wish you all a happy and prosperous 2012, and hopefully the Sage will return again before too long!
Regards
TSOS
The Sage in India
The Sage on the Royal Wedding
The Sage on the London riots
The Sage reviews Oh Minnows, one of his albums of the year, with a second link to one of the band's videos
And finally, the incomparable Shane Williams in action:
Friday 30 December 2011
Thursday 11 August 2011
Panic on the streets of London: The Sage asks could we have predicted this riot?
It's Thursday evening, and while England's major cities seem quiet again for now, the shockwaves of this week's unprecedented social disorder are still reverberating around the country. The streets of Stockwell, although largely unaffected by more serious trouble, are located ominously close to Clapham Junction, one of the very worst flashpoints in London on Monday evening, and 24 hours later the tension in the air remained palpable as the Sage walked to the nearby tube station. Passing through Birmingham earlier on Tuesday morning, I sensed a similar feeling as people stopped to stare at the boarded up shops surrounded in crime scene tape.
Over the past few days, politicians and social commentators have tried to outdo one another to deliver the most insightful soundbites about what has caused these incidents, how they could have been dealt with better and how we prevent them reoccuring in future. As a Londoner who was thankfully outside the capital when huge swathes of it were looted, smashed and set ablaze, it's now time for the Sage to put my own two pennies worth in and give my thoughts on these issues, and a few others too:
Rioting and looting are nothing new. We have a naive belief that the veneer of modern civilisation, which has granted virtually all the British population a standard of living beyond the wildest dreams of earlier generations, somehow means that basic human nature has changed. Unfortunately, there will always be members of any society, however advanced, that seek to rail against accepted boundaries of behaviour in order to obtain what they want, as history will tell us. The mob mentality deflects the sense of individual responsibility and drags weak-minded followers in its wake, whether it's the French Revolution of 1789 or the British riots of 2011.
The culture of entitlement and instant gratification is all-powerful. Moving on from my previous point, the definition of poverty in Britain has changed beyond all recognition in recent years. A hundred years ago, for many people it meant not having shoes on your feet or food on the table. Today, almost everyone has these things, so the yardstick has moved. Those who don't have an iPhone, or the latest HD TV, or a steady stream of computer games, believe they are being denied what is normal in their society. This materialistic culture is in their faces every day and some will inevitably do whatever is necessary to obtain what they feel is their right - including looting.
The lack of respect issue. This week's events were simply a violent explosion of a cultural time bomb that has been ticking for a decade or more. We've all seen it - in schools, on the streets, in shopping centres and elsewhere. In a sense, the demonisation of 'chavs' has only served to polarise these people even more, actively encouraging them to subvert society's perceived code of conduct because they feel they have no hope of acceptance whatever they do. Gangs are a by-product of this attitude, as they give members a sense of belonging and standing. Yet that does not explain how the phenomenon began in the first place. A lack of discipline - both in the home and in society at large - is undeniably one of the root causes, but not the whole picture.
A lack of positive role models. We continue to live in a class-ridden country where the privately educated and historically wealthy wield a disproportionate influence, with social mobility less and less possible. Young people from underpriveleged areas can't imagine becoming a doctor, or a lawyer, because no-one they know has those kind of jobs. It can seem to youngsters that the only people who achieve wealth and success from some communities either have a special talent - for sport perhaps, or music - or turn to crime. If they can't be a Dizzee Rascal or a Wayne Rooney, a depressingly high number rather take their chances on the mean streets than face up to a life of fast food restaurant and shop assistant jobs. Money and status is everything.
We are a capitalist society with a socialist welfare state. The Sage believes every civilised society should have a welfare state, but unlike other northern European countries, it's not always a two way process in Britain which creates many problems. While most citizens in Sweden or Norway feel they have a responsibility to follow the laws of the state in exchange for good public services, some in the UK simply see it as a luxury to be indulged and abused for their own enrichment. Can we develop a social contract mentality or is it already too late?
Improving social mobility is the key to change. Don't cut vital resources like libraries, the Education Maintenance Allowance and Sure Start. Bring back the grammar schools and introduce quotas for university places for private schools that reflect the relatively small number of children who are educated there. Make tuition fees a percentage of family income. We have to create a more level playing field if society is to change and for young people from all backgrounds to feel they have a chance of achieving in the mainstream. Furthermore, we need to create a society where work conducted at all levels is respected, not just high income professions.
Cutting offender benefits won't work. Few would dispute that Britain's benefits system is subject to systematic abuse, but cutting people's money as a punishment will only drive them further into disenchantment and crime. We need change attitudes and encourage offenders to feel part of society - and that will happen by improving education, training and job prospects. The Sage supports the idea that the longer-term unemployed should undertake part-time community service as part the process of installing the 'social contract' mentality I referred to earlier.
We need more robust policing as an option. Noone wants an Arab-style police state, but when large numbers of British citizens have their property, business or personal safety threatened they have a right to be protected more forcefully. Yes to water cannons and baton rounds, but plastic bullets should be an absolute last resort.
The public are overwhelmingly behind the police. The boys in blue haven't had the best reputation over the past few years, and many people rightly criticised some of the more heavy-handed tactics during the G20 protests and other events. But there's a fundamental difference between a few idiots hijacking a politically motivated demonstration and widespread, wilful looting and destruction. Even those of us of a more left wing persuasion have to concede that fact and more robust policing will receive almost unanimous support should similar incidents occur again.
Over the past few days, politicians and social commentators have tried to outdo one another to deliver the most insightful soundbites about what has caused these incidents, how they could have been dealt with better and how we prevent them reoccuring in future. As a Londoner who was thankfully outside the capital when huge swathes of it were looted, smashed and set ablaze, it's now time for the Sage to put my own two pennies worth in and give my thoughts on these issues, and a few others too:
Rioting and looting are nothing new. We have a naive belief that the veneer of modern civilisation, which has granted virtually all the British population a standard of living beyond the wildest dreams of earlier generations, somehow means that basic human nature has changed. Unfortunately, there will always be members of any society, however advanced, that seek to rail against accepted boundaries of behaviour in order to obtain what they want, as history will tell us. The mob mentality deflects the sense of individual responsibility and drags weak-minded followers in its wake, whether it's the French Revolution of 1789 or the British riots of 2011.
The culture of entitlement and instant gratification is all-powerful. Moving on from my previous point, the definition of poverty in Britain has changed beyond all recognition in recent years. A hundred years ago, for many people it meant not having shoes on your feet or food on the table. Today, almost everyone has these things, so the yardstick has moved. Those who don't have an iPhone, or the latest HD TV, or a steady stream of computer games, believe they are being denied what is normal in their society. This materialistic culture is in their faces every day and some will inevitably do whatever is necessary to obtain what they feel is their right - including looting.
The lack of respect issue. This week's events were simply a violent explosion of a cultural time bomb that has been ticking for a decade or more. We've all seen it - in schools, on the streets, in shopping centres and elsewhere. In a sense, the demonisation of 'chavs' has only served to polarise these people even more, actively encouraging them to subvert society's perceived code of conduct because they feel they have no hope of acceptance whatever they do. Gangs are a by-product of this attitude, as they give members a sense of belonging and standing. Yet that does not explain how the phenomenon began in the first place. A lack of discipline - both in the home and in society at large - is undeniably one of the root causes, but not the whole picture.
A lack of positive role models. We continue to live in a class-ridden country where the privately educated and historically wealthy wield a disproportionate influence, with social mobility less and less possible. Young people from underpriveleged areas can't imagine becoming a doctor, or a lawyer, because no-one they know has those kind of jobs. It can seem to youngsters that the only people who achieve wealth and success from some communities either have a special talent - for sport perhaps, or music - or turn to crime. If they can't be a Dizzee Rascal or a Wayne Rooney, a depressingly high number rather take their chances on the mean streets than face up to a life of fast food restaurant and shop assistant jobs. Money and status is everything.
We are a capitalist society with a socialist welfare state. The Sage believes every civilised society should have a welfare state, but unlike other northern European countries, it's not always a two way process in Britain which creates many problems. While most citizens in Sweden or Norway feel they have a responsibility to follow the laws of the state in exchange for good public services, some in the UK simply see it as a luxury to be indulged and abused for their own enrichment. Can we develop a social contract mentality or is it already too late?
Improving social mobility is the key to change. Don't cut vital resources like libraries, the Education Maintenance Allowance and Sure Start. Bring back the grammar schools and introduce quotas for university places for private schools that reflect the relatively small number of children who are educated there. Make tuition fees a percentage of family income. We have to create a more level playing field if society is to change and for young people from all backgrounds to feel they have a chance of achieving in the mainstream. Furthermore, we need to create a society where work conducted at all levels is respected, not just high income professions.
Cutting offender benefits won't work. Few would dispute that Britain's benefits system is subject to systematic abuse, but cutting people's money as a punishment will only drive them further into disenchantment and crime. We need change attitudes and encourage offenders to feel part of society - and that will happen by improving education, training and job prospects. The Sage supports the idea that the longer-term unemployed should undertake part-time community service as part the process of installing the 'social contract' mentality I referred to earlier.
We need more robust policing as an option. Noone wants an Arab-style police state, but when large numbers of British citizens have their property, business or personal safety threatened they have a right to be protected more forcefully. Yes to water cannons and baton rounds, but plastic bullets should be an absolute last resort.
The public are overwhelmingly behind the police. The boys in blue haven't had the best reputation over the past few years, and many people rightly criticised some of the more heavy-handed tactics during the G20 protests and other events. But there's a fundamental difference between a few idiots hijacking a politically motivated demonstration and widespread, wilful looting and destruction. Even those of us of a more left wing persuasion have to concede that fact and more robust policing will receive almost unanimous support should similar incidents occur again.
Tuesday 26 July 2011
Appraising Amy
Dear followers
After Amy Winehouse's funeral earlier today, The London Evening Standard quoted George Michael's view that "she should be remembered as one of the greatest singer-songwriters of all time." Of all time? Really?
Only those without an ounce of compassion could fail to be moved by the tragically early death of a highly talented young woman who should have had many more decades of music in her - although the cold blooded slaughter of dozens of innocent young Norwegians the day before should put Winehouse's sad but ultimately self-inflicted descent into a wretched abyss of addiction in perspective. But in the aftermath of any artist's death, especially a premature one, too many observers instinctively fall over themselves in search of gushing superlatives rather than offering a more objective, rational appraisal of the individual's true legacy. This is in some ways understandable, as noone wants to seem churlish or mean spirited in such circumstances, but nevertheless, The Sage intends to debunk the fast-emerging myth that Winehouse warrants a place in the pantheon of musical geniuses.
First, the evidence in favour of her greatness. She was certainly incredibly popular in the UK - Back To Black was the country's best selling album of 2007, and also got to number 2 in the notoriously hard to conquer American chart. At the precocious age of 19, her debut record Frank was nominated for the Mercury Music Prize. Her voice was an expressive, smoky delight, rich in the kind of world-weary emotion that one would expect from a veteran of the Deep South soul scene rather than a young Jewish girl from Finchley; her songwriting confident and effortlessly 'classic' from the start. Furthermore, she was the first of a new generation of distinctive, adventurous young British female singer-songwriters that has gradually broken through over the past decade, paving the way for the likes of Florence and the Machine and Adele, as they themselves acknowledge.
But when we talk about the greatest singer-songwriters there have ever been, the Sage thinks of names like Bob Dylan - or, if you prefer something a bit more upbeat, Michael Jackson. Winehouse released two albums - these artists have been consistently great for decades. Songs like Knockin' On Heaven's Door, Blowin' In The Wind, Thriller and Billie Jean are part of pop music's indelible history, known across the world and across generations. Will many people be able to name a Winehouse song in 30 years time?
Even the next tier down from the absolute greats, there's a strong argument that someone like Kate Bush, with her unique voice, enduring if fitful recording career and highly innovative stage presence, is a far more significant and influential British artist than Winehouse, who for all her flair and appeal wasn't ever actually doing anything that hasn't been done before.
Much has been written over the past few days about the '27 club', the unusually large number of iconic popular musicians who died at that age, often as the result of substance abuse or psychological torment. Once again, Winehouse's inclusion in that hallowed list strikes the Sage as glib convenience rather than a true reflection of her talent. Jimi Hendrix revolutionised the way rock music's most emblematic instrument was played, inspiring countless other guitarists that have followed in his wake. Kurt Cobain dragged alternative rock music kicking and screaming into the mainstream. Like Dylan and Jackson, they and other members of the '27 club' such as Jim Morrison created an impact and a body of work that continues to resonate today.
The key thing about Hendrix, Morrison and Cobain is that their early demise, while undeniably an important factor in their popularity, does not define them as artists. Unfortunately, one suspects that Amy Winehouse will probably be remembered more for going spectacularly off the rails than for what she achieved when she was on track, which to be brutally honest fell some way short of the accolades bestowed upon her since her untimely demise.
After Amy Winehouse's funeral earlier today, The London Evening Standard quoted George Michael's view that "she should be remembered as one of the greatest singer-songwriters of all time." Of all time? Really?
Only those without an ounce of compassion could fail to be moved by the tragically early death of a highly talented young woman who should have had many more decades of music in her - although the cold blooded slaughter of dozens of innocent young Norwegians the day before should put Winehouse's sad but ultimately self-inflicted descent into a wretched abyss of addiction in perspective. But in the aftermath of any artist's death, especially a premature one, too many observers instinctively fall over themselves in search of gushing superlatives rather than offering a more objective, rational appraisal of the individual's true legacy. This is in some ways understandable, as noone wants to seem churlish or mean spirited in such circumstances, but nevertheless, The Sage intends to debunk the fast-emerging myth that Winehouse warrants a place in the pantheon of musical geniuses.
First, the evidence in favour of her greatness. She was certainly incredibly popular in the UK - Back To Black was the country's best selling album of 2007, and also got to number 2 in the notoriously hard to conquer American chart. At the precocious age of 19, her debut record Frank was nominated for the Mercury Music Prize. Her voice was an expressive, smoky delight, rich in the kind of world-weary emotion that one would expect from a veteran of the Deep South soul scene rather than a young Jewish girl from Finchley; her songwriting confident and effortlessly 'classic' from the start. Furthermore, she was the first of a new generation of distinctive, adventurous young British female singer-songwriters that has gradually broken through over the past decade, paving the way for the likes of Florence and the Machine and Adele, as they themselves acknowledge.
But when we talk about the greatest singer-songwriters there have ever been, the Sage thinks of names like Bob Dylan - or, if you prefer something a bit more upbeat, Michael Jackson. Winehouse released two albums - these artists have been consistently great for decades. Songs like Knockin' On Heaven's Door, Blowin' In The Wind, Thriller and Billie Jean are part of pop music's indelible history, known across the world and across generations. Will many people be able to name a Winehouse song in 30 years time?
Even the next tier down from the absolute greats, there's a strong argument that someone like Kate Bush, with her unique voice, enduring if fitful recording career and highly innovative stage presence, is a far more significant and influential British artist than Winehouse, who for all her flair and appeal wasn't ever actually doing anything that hasn't been done before.
Much has been written over the past few days about the '27 club', the unusually large number of iconic popular musicians who died at that age, often as the result of substance abuse or psychological torment. Once again, Winehouse's inclusion in that hallowed list strikes the Sage as glib convenience rather than a true reflection of her talent. Jimi Hendrix revolutionised the way rock music's most emblematic instrument was played, inspiring countless other guitarists that have followed in his wake. Kurt Cobain dragged alternative rock music kicking and screaming into the mainstream. Like Dylan and Jackson, they and other members of the '27 club' such as Jim Morrison created an impact and a body of work that continues to resonate today.
The key thing about Hendrix, Morrison and Cobain is that their early demise, while undeniably an important factor in their popularity, does not define them as artists. Unfortunately, one suspects that Amy Winehouse will probably be remembered more for going spectacularly off the rails than for what she achieved when she was on track, which to be brutally honest fell some way short of the accolades bestowed upon her since her untimely demise.
Wednesday 13 July 2011
Who will win The Apprentice - The Sage's thoughts & prediction
Dear followers
Before this series, The Sage always remained resolutely aloof from the addictive appeal of The Apprentice, bar a fleeting week or two of interest when the blonde Brummie girl made the final a couple of years back. But a Wednesday night at home on the Stockwell sofa back in May coincided with the launch of Lord Sugar's 2011 search for his new business partner, and lo and behold, I haven't missed an episode since.
The Sage is unsure what makes the programme so gripping. Perhaps it's Lord Sugar himself, who ascends imperiously to the boardroom in his glass lift like a Cockney Ming the Merciless before ritually humiliating the contestants with his withering assessments of their performance. You also have the would-be entrepreneurs themselves, who habitually display a daunting level of self belief only matched by their sometimes staggering lack of intelligence. The tasks they undertake are well-thought out, varied and easy even for those of us with zero business knowledge to understand, which is useful as several of this year's participants seemed to fall under that category. But above all, this is a competition, and while we all enjoy the first 50 minutes, it's the final 10 when the three potential victims turn on each other like wild beasts before one is fired that we all look forward to.
Now we're at the final stage, and to be honest, with the possible exception of Melody (who was immensely pretentious but generally pretty sharp, she even spoke French!) it's difficult to argue with the make up of the last four. Natasha, who got commendably far considering she is essentially a brunette Vicky Pollard in a trouser suit, simply had to go. However, there was also a strong case to fire Tom for comprehensively destroying the myth that he is some kind of bumbling genius by claiming that Christopher Columbus was British, which The Sage would expect the average 10 year old to correct. Mind you, Natasha probably thinks he's a recently deceased American detective in a brown overcoat.
Despite his unforgivable display of historical ignorance, I will be supporting Tom on Sunday night. His detractors will rightly point out that he's lost a lot more tasks than he's won over the series as a whole, and he can come across as too mild-mannered and indecisive. But when it comes to delivering a well-structured, innovative business plan and coming across as both clever and likeable in an interview, you have to fancy his chances.
Of the other three contenders, The Sage believes Jim can almost certainly be discounted, despite his now legendary mind games and apparent boardroom invulnerability. Yes, he's more slippery than an eel-shaped bar of soap and could talk the hind legs, tail and testicles off the proverbial donkey, but when it comes down to it, he's a salesman rather than a businessman and I expect him to finally get found out at the death.
With her flawless make-up, genial diplomacy and perfect pitches, Helen sailed serenely through the first nine weeks looking like the winner in waiting, but was badly ruffled on the 'smell what sells task' and the Sage has a hunch that she may also wilt when put under pressure. There is something strangely robotic about her, and the suspicion is that she's a great organiser and facilitator of other people's ideas rather than an innovator in her own right. Plus she stated in her audition that she has 'no social life and no personal life, I live for my work' which is terribly unfair on the menfolk of her native Northumberland, who deserve more than just sheep for company at the weekend.
The real dark horse is Susan. Despite being almost as stupid as Natasha and possibly even more annoying, the fact that she started her first business at the age of three and yaps like a demented puppy at anyone who crosses her seems to have endeared her to Lord Sugar. To be fair, she's probably had to work harder than anyone to get to where she is in life, and is seeking to conquer the world of commerce at an age when most people are either preparing for their university finals, going out getting hideously drunk several times a week, or both. But does this mean she deserves to win? In The Sage's view, no it doesn't.
So it's prediction time, and The Sage will go for Tom to win, with Susan in second. The words 'bullshit' and 'Jim' will appear in a sentence together on more than one occasion, Nick Hewer will raise his eyebrows in despair at least seven times, and Lord Sugar will announce his final verdict surrounded by a phalanx of Daleks before obliterating the losers with a particle dispersing laser. Well perhaps The Sage is getting a bit carried away with the last bit, but it should all be jolly good fun to watch nevertheless.
Bring on Sunday!
Regards
The Sage
Before this series, The Sage always remained resolutely aloof from the addictive appeal of The Apprentice, bar a fleeting week or two of interest when the blonde Brummie girl made the final a couple of years back. But a Wednesday night at home on the Stockwell sofa back in May coincided with the launch of Lord Sugar's 2011 search for his new business partner, and lo and behold, I haven't missed an episode since.
The Sage is unsure what makes the programme so gripping. Perhaps it's Lord Sugar himself, who ascends imperiously to the boardroom in his glass lift like a Cockney Ming the Merciless before ritually humiliating the contestants with his withering assessments of their performance. You also have the would-be entrepreneurs themselves, who habitually display a daunting level of self belief only matched by their sometimes staggering lack of intelligence. The tasks they undertake are well-thought out, varied and easy even for those of us with zero business knowledge to understand, which is useful as several of this year's participants seemed to fall under that category. But above all, this is a competition, and while we all enjoy the first 50 minutes, it's the final 10 when the three potential victims turn on each other like wild beasts before one is fired that we all look forward to.
Now we're at the final stage, and to be honest, with the possible exception of Melody (who was immensely pretentious but generally pretty sharp, she even spoke French!) it's difficult to argue with the make up of the last four. Natasha, who got commendably far considering she is essentially a brunette Vicky Pollard in a trouser suit, simply had to go. However, there was also a strong case to fire Tom for comprehensively destroying the myth that he is some kind of bumbling genius by claiming that Christopher Columbus was British, which The Sage would expect the average 10 year old to correct. Mind you, Natasha probably thinks he's a recently deceased American detective in a brown overcoat.
Despite his unforgivable display of historical ignorance, I will be supporting Tom on Sunday night. His detractors will rightly point out that he's lost a lot more tasks than he's won over the series as a whole, and he can come across as too mild-mannered and indecisive. But when it comes to delivering a well-structured, innovative business plan and coming across as both clever and likeable in an interview, you have to fancy his chances.
Of the other three contenders, The Sage believes Jim can almost certainly be discounted, despite his now legendary mind games and apparent boardroom invulnerability. Yes, he's more slippery than an eel-shaped bar of soap and could talk the hind legs, tail and testicles off the proverbial donkey, but when it comes down to it, he's a salesman rather than a businessman and I expect him to finally get found out at the death.
With her flawless make-up, genial diplomacy and perfect pitches, Helen sailed serenely through the first nine weeks looking like the winner in waiting, but was badly ruffled on the 'smell what sells task' and the Sage has a hunch that she may also wilt when put under pressure. There is something strangely robotic about her, and the suspicion is that she's a great organiser and facilitator of other people's ideas rather than an innovator in her own right. Plus she stated in her audition that she has 'no social life and no personal life, I live for my work' which is terribly unfair on the menfolk of her native Northumberland, who deserve more than just sheep for company at the weekend.
The real dark horse is Susan. Despite being almost as stupid as Natasha and possibly even more annoying, the fact that she started her first business at the age of three and yaps like a demented puppy at anyone who crosses her seems to have endeared her to Lord Sugar. To be fair, she's probably had to work harder than anyone to get to where she is in life, and is seeking to conquer the world of commerce at an age when most people are either preparing for their university finals, going out getting hideously drunk several times a week, or both. But does this mean she deserves to win? In The Sage's view, no it doesn't.
So it's prediction time, and The Sage will go for Tom to win, with Susan in second. The words 'bullshit' and 'Jim' will appear in a sentence together on more than one occasion, Nick Hewer will raise his eyebrows in despair at least seven times, and Lord Sugar will announce his final verdict surrounded by a phalanx of Daleks before obliterating the losers with a particle dispersing laser. Well perhaps The Sage is getting a bit carried away with the last bit, but it should all be jolly good fun to watch nevertheless.
Bring on Sunday!
Regards
The Sage
Friday 8 July 2011
What does the demise of The News Of The World mean to us?
This Sunday, millions of British people will face an unexpected and potentially challenging decision. After 168 years of relying on The News Of The World to keep them updated on all the crucial issues going on in the world, they may have to do the unthinkable and - gasp - buy a proper newspaper instead!
Of course, they'll probably just take the easy option and switch seamlessly to The Mail, which is a bit like discovering Katie Price has moved out of your flat and shacking up with Kerry Katona as a classier alternative. But the demise of TNOTW is nevertheless highly significant, and not only because even Observer-reading lefties like The Sage have to concede that it's Britain's - indeed, the English language's - best selling newspaper.
Many commentators are suggesting that pulling the plug on an irretrievably tainted brand is merely a cunning ruse by News International to sidestep the real issues of wider organisational culpability, cutting off a gangrenous limb in order to save the rest of the body. Most expect 'The Sun On Sunday' or something equally predictable to be launched in its stead sooner rather than later once the dust has settled a little, allowing Murdoch and his 'evil empire' to continue business as usual.
This may well all be true, but The Sage is cautiously optimistic that this appalling episode also represents a defining sea change in the way newspapers operate in this country. For the past few decades, our press has steadily become more and more sleazy and ammoral, willing to take any steps necessary to obtain stories that will sell. The rampant celebrity culture is part of this problem, but the man on the street's reaction to a private investigator hacking the phone of a footballer or actor who can't keep their trousers on generally ranges from mild disapproval on whether it's 'in the public interest' to bored indifference. Allegedly hacking the phones of ordinary people - including a teenage murder victim and the relatives of servicemen and women killed in action - takes things to a whole new level of callous, unethical insensitivity. Even the most rabidly bigoted, sensation-loving red top reader must surely abhor the depths to which the NOTW is accused of plunging.
Who knows how many newspapers have employed similarly base practices in the past, but one things for sure, they won't be doing it any more, as the risk of exposure and subsequent excoriation by the whole of British society is simply too great. Even if a sizeable chunk of their readers stick with them, this week has proved that the all-important corporate advertisers almost certainly won't, and David Cameron's promised judicial enquiry will inevitably result in closer regulatory scrutiny of press behaviour. Furthermore, in the wake of this scandal all party leaders will also presumably go out of their way to avoid being too closely linked with Murdoch and his ilk, which will hopefully reduce the media's all too pervasive influence on political matters.
Freedom of the press is an integral part of this country's guiding principles, and should never be compromised by governments or anyone else. But newspapers themselves also have a duty to maintain certain standards of decency and moral conduct as part of this process. By dragging their profession to the very bottom of the gutter, The Sage can only hope that TNOTW has shamed its peers into making sure that nothing like this ever happens again.
Of course, they'll probably just take the easy option and switch seamlessly to The Mail, which is a bit like discovering Katie Price has moved out of your flat and shacking up with Kerry Katona as a classier alternative. But the demise of TNOTW is nevertheless highly significant, and not only because even Observer-reading lefties like The Sage have to concede that it's Britain's - indeed, the English language's - best selling newspaper.
Many commentators are suggesting that pulling the plug on an irretrievably tainted brand is merely a cunning ruse by News International to sidestep the real issues of wider organisational culpability, cutting off a gangrenous limb in order to save the rest of the body. Most expect 'The Sun On Sunday' or something equally predictable to be launched in its stead sooner rather than later once the dust has settled a little, allowing Murdoch and his 'evil empire' to continue business as usual.
This may well all be true, but The Sage is cautiously optimistic that this appalling episode also represents a defining sea change in the way newspapers operate in this country. For the past few decades, our press has steadily become more and more sleazy and ammoral, willing to take any steps necessary to obtain stories that will sell. The rampant celebrity culture is part of this problem, but the man on the street's reaction to a private investigator hacking the phone of a footballer or actor who can't keep their trousers on generally ranges from mild disapproval on whether it's 'in the public interest' to bored indifference. Allegedly hacking the phones of ordinary people - including a teenage murder victim and the relatives of servicemen and women killed in action - takes things to a whole new level of callous, unethical insensitivity. Even the most rabidly bigoted, sensation-loving red top reader must surely abhor the depths to which the NOTW is accused of plunging.
Who knows how many newspapers have employed similarly base practices in the past, but one things for sure, they won't be doing it any more, as the risk of exposure and subsequent excoriation by the whole of British society is simply too great. Even if a sizeable chunk of their readers stick with them, this week has proved that the all-important corporate advertisers almost certainly won't, and David Cameron's promised judicial enquiry will inevitably result in closer regulatory scrutiny of press behaviour. Furthermore, in the wake of this scandal all party leaders will also presumably go out of their way to avoid being too closely linked with Murdoch and his ilk, which will hopefully reduce the media's all too pervasive influence on political matters.
Freedom of the press is an integral part of this country's guiding principles, and should never be compromised by governments or anyone else. But newspapers themselves also have a duty to maintain certain standards of decency and moral conduct as part of this process. By dragging their profession to the very bottom of the gutter, The Sage can only hope that TNOTW has shamed its peers into making sure that nothing like this ever happens again.
Tuesday 5 July 2011
The Sage Of Stockwell - recent musical meanderings
Dear followers
The Sage has been busy of late writing album and gig reviews for the BBC and in particular the excellent Music OMH site. Please see below some recent recommendations, with links to some clips of the artists' work:
For dance music/electronica fans:
Junior Boys review
Clip of Junior Boys - Banana Ripple
Blanck Mass review
Clip of Blanck Mass - Chernobyl
Basement Jaxx Vs. Metropole Orkest review
Clip of Basement Jaxx Vs. Metropole Orkest - Where's Your Head At
Planningtorock review
Clip of Planningtorock - Doorway
For rock/indie fans:
The Pierces review
Clip of The Pierces - You'll Be Mine
Timber Timbre review
Clip of Timber Timbre - Keep On Creepin' On
Pajaro Sunrise review
Clip of Pajaro Sunrise - Song For Evangeline
The Blue Aeroplanes review
Clip of The Blue Aeroplanes - 25 Kinds Of Love
For world/folk music fans:
Vieux Farka Toure review
Clip of Vieux Farka Toure featuring Dave Matthews - All The Same
and one to avoid...
Gyratory System review
Clip of Gyratory System - New Harmony
Enjoy!
The Sage
The Sage has been busy of late writing album and gig reviews for the BBC and in particular the excellent Music OMH site. Please see below some recent recommendations, with links to some clips of the artists' work:
For dance music/electronica fans:
Junior Boys review
Clip of Junior Boys - Banana Ripple
Blanck Mass review
Clip of Blanck Mass - Chernobyl
Basement Jaxx Vs. Metropole Orkest review
Clip of Basement Jaxx Vs. Metropole Orkest - Where's Your Head At
Planningtorock review
Clip of Planningtorock - Doorway
For rock/indie fans:
The Pierces review
Clip of The Pierces - You'll Be Mine
Timber Timbre review
Clip of Timber Timbre - Keep On Creepin' On
Pajaro Sunrise review
Clip of Pajaro Sunrise - Song For Evangeline
The Blue Aeroplanes review
Clip of The Blue Aeroplanes - 25 Kinds Of Love
For world/folk music fans:
Vieux Farka Toure review
Clip of Vieux Farka Toure featuring Dave Matthews - All The Same
and one to avoid...
Gyratory System review
Clip of Gyratory System - New Harmony
Enjoy!
The Sage
Sunday 15 May 2011
The Sage's Eurovision
Dear followers
Most of you probably don't require the wisdom of the Sage to point out the inherent absurdity of the Eurovision Song Contest. Unlike the rest of the continent, the British and Irish view this event for what it is, a ridiculous high camp pageant populated by over-excitable foreigners belting out dreadful slices of hi-energy pop pap or cringingly over the top power ballads, normally while wearing a silly costume and surrounded by dancers who look like they've been recruited in an Amsterdam S&M club. And of course, it's not really a competition at all, as everyone just votes for their neighbours regardless of whether their song is any good or not.
So it was with a heavy heart that the Sage settled down on his Stockwell sofa last night armed with a family pack of Hula Hoops to watch this year's event unfold in all its customary awfulness. Things got off to a bad start when it became apparent that Eurovision 2011 was being hosted by the Germans, which meant a presenting team consisting of two towering, impassive ice maidens and a bearded man who looked like he'd be much more comfortable sat in a Bavarian bierkeller in a lederhosen, yet is apparently 'Germany's answer to Simon Cowell'. At least us Brits had cheeky chappie Graham Norton's bitchy observations to entertain us, although it was disappointing that Norton occasionally seemed to be enjoying himself, while his predecessor Terry Wogan never failed to make clear he knew it was all utter tosh.
Anyway, before long we were into the acts themselves, kicking off with a very earnest blonde Finnish youth singing a drippy little song about saving the planet. Then it was on to the usual line up of caterwauling Lithuanians, Hungarian drag queens and Georgian death metal, with Blue and Jedward thrown in for good measure. The pre-event favourite was apparently France, which was somewhat bizarre as their singer had clearly entered the competition by mistake after taking the wrong exit off the autobahn on the way to the Berlin State Opera. Unsurprisingly he fared very badly, prompting his countrymen to stick two fingers up to the organisers by being the only nation to announce their votes in their own language rather than English, which should have resulted in instant disqualification.
In the end, Azerbaijan's dreadfully bland, inoffensive ditty saw off the challenge of the Italian jazz band and the Swedish rent boy to win the crown, following the usual voting farce which the decision to decide 50% of each country's verdict by an expert jury made absolutely no difference to whatsoever. So the Portuguese still voted for the Spanish, the Austrians voted for the Germans and the host of new post-communist nations voted randomly for each other. How tiresomely predictable.
In the Sage's view, Moldova should clearly have won. A hilarious combination of tuneless shouting, frantic trumpeting and preposterously large dunce hats, their song was comfortably the worst of the night and should have been rewarded accordingly. The British and Irish, as stated previously the only two nations who grasp the true purpose of Eurovision, recognised this fact and both placed the Moldovans in their top three.
A word or two about Blue, who avoided the humiliation of many recent British entries but still only finished in mid-table. Clearly the thinking was that an ageing but still game boy band who have a decent fanbase around Europe would stand a good chance of doing very well. Wrong. That Blue are bad enough to mount a strong bid for the Eurovision title is not in question. They are and always have been terrible. The problem is, they don't know it, and insist on maintaining they are serious artists instead of recognising they're shit, relaxing and camping it up for all they're worth. You don't win Eurovision by trying to be good, you win it by jumping around manically and gurning at the camera while wearing the sort of outfits that would have been rejected by the Village People as too extreme.
Britain has another overwhelming disadvantage when it comes to the Eurovision Song Contest. Unlike the rest of Europe, we actually produce good music. It's important to understand this point and also to remember that the artists we routinely dismiss as laughably bad on Eurovision are genuinely regarded as the cream of their nation's talent by our continental cousins and are what most of them actually enjoy listening to all the time. The need to cater for this market gives them a huge range of suitable representatives from which to choose, all of whom know instinctively how to appeal to the cross-border masses of Europeans with no taste.
In short, the nation that gave the world The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie and Led Zeppelin quite simply doesn't stand a chance.
Regards
The Sage
Most of you probably don't require the wisdom of the Sage to point out the inherent absurdity of the Eurovision Song Contest. Unlike the rest of the continent, the British and Irish view this event for what it is, a ridiculous high camp pageant populated by over-excitable foreigners belting out dreadful slices of hi-energy pop pap or cringingly over the top power ballads, normally while wearing a silly costume and surrounded by dancers who look like they've been recruited in an Amsterdam S&M club. And of course, it's not really a competition at all, as everyone just votes for their neighbours regardless of whether their song is any good or not.
So it was with a heavy heart that the Sage settled down on his Stockwell sofa last night armed with a family pack of Hula Hoops to watch this year's event unfold in all its customary awfulness. Things got off to a bad start when it became apparent that Eurovision 2011 was being hosted by the Germans, which meant a presenting team consisting of two towering, impassive ice maidens and a bearded man who looked like he'd be much more comfortable sat in a Bavarian bierkeller in a lederhosen, yet is apparently 'Germany's answer to Simon Cowell'. At least us Brits had cheeky chappie Graham Norton's bitchy observations to entertain us, although it was disappointing that Norton occasionally seemed to be enjoying himself, while his predecessor Terry Wogan never failed to make clear he knew it was all utter tosh.
Anyway, before long we were into the acts themselves, kicking off with a very earnest blonde Finnish youth singing a drippy little song about saving the planet. Then it was on to the usual line up of caterwauling Lithuanians, Hungarian drag queens and Georgian death metal, with Blue and Jedward thrown in for good measure. The pre-event favourite was apparently France, which was somewhat bizarre as their singer had clearly entered the competition by mistake after taking the wrong exit off the autobahn on the way to the Berlin State Opera. Unsurprisingly he fared very badly, prompting his countrymen to stick two fingers up to the organisers by being the only nation to announce their votes in their own language rather than English, which should have resulted in instant disqualification.
In the end, Azerbaijan's dreadfully bland, inoffensive ditty saw off the challenge of the Italian jazz band and the Swedish rent boy to win the crown, following the usual voting farce which the decision to decide 50% of each country's verdict by an expert jury made absolutely no difference to whatsoever. So the Portuguese still voted for the Spanish, the Austrians voted for the Germans and the host of new post-communist nations voted randomly for each other. How tiresomely predictable.
In the Sage's view, Moldova should clearly have won. A hilarious combination of tuneless shouting, frantic trumpeting and preposterously large dunce hats, their song was comfortably the worst of the night and should have been rewarded accordingly. The British and Irish, as stated previously the only two nations who grasp the true purpose of Eurovision, recognised this fact and both placed the Moldovans in their top three.
A word or two about Blue, who avoided the humiliation of many recent British entries but still only finished in mid-table. Clearly the thinking was that an ageing but still game boy band who have a decent fanbase around Europe would stand a good chance of doing very well. Wrong. That Blue are bad enough to mount a strong bid for the Eurovision title is not in question. They are and always have been terrible. The problem is, they don't know it, and insist on maintaining they are serious artists instead of recognising they're shit, relaxing and camping it up for all they're worth. You don't win Eurovision by trying to be good, you win it by jumping around manically and gurning at the camera while wearing the sort of outfits that would have been rejected by the Village People as too extreme.
Britain has another overwhelming disadvantage when it comes to the Eurovision Song Contest. Unlike the rest of Europe, we actually produce good music. It's important to understand this point and also to remember that the artists we routinely dismiss as laughably bad on Eurovision are genuinely regarded as the cream of their nation's talent by our continental cousins and are what most of them actually enjoy listening to all the time. The need to cater for this market gives them a huge range of suitable representatives from which to choose, all of whom know instinctively how to appeal to the cross-border masses of Europeans with no taste.
In short, the nation that gave the world The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie and Led Zeppelin quite simply doesn't stand a chance.
Regards
The Sage
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