There was a lad, probably in his late teens, seeing off his girlfriend on the platform at Birmingham New Street. I’d hazard a guess that they hadn’t been seeing each other for very long otherwise he’d have just gone when she got onboard. As it was, he must have been trying to make sure that she left with a good impression of him because he was determined to stay until the train pulled away.
Only it didn’t. The train was very busy. It emptied and refilled with passengers and it took a while for everyone to find their seats, take magazines or iPods out of their bags and stow their luggage away. I could only see him, I couldn’t see his girlfriend; she was obscured by rows of seating and the backs of heads. She must have been near the window though, as he could see her from where he stood. He gestured to her through the window – about how busy the station was, to call him when she’d arrived, how cold it was – the usual sorts of things. It was all fine while there were plenty of people milling around and there were a few topics that could be easily mimed.
But the train didn’t move.
The people in the carriage settled down and the platform emptied. There were no views to distract the passengers and it was too early in the journey to start reading or listening to music, so everyone watched him absentmindedly. It must have been like being on stage – but he was all alone and he didn’t have a script.
The train still didn’t move.
I could tell the lad was starting to feel a little embarrassed. There was a pressure to entertain. He coped well though, making a big show of checking his watch, smiling a lot, pulling a few faces. He even took something out of his bag to fool around with – I couldn’t see what. I presume the girl was responding to all this but it was a lot easier for her. She wasn’t so completely exposed; not as many people could see her, squashed up against the window.
The train still didn’t move.
He was struggling. There’s only so much you can say to someone through a reinforced perspex window. He gamely pointed at a few things and laughed at something she did but that laugh looked more forced now, the smile painted on. His cheeks were redder. He was losing his cool, starting to feel silly. He couldn’t leave the platform now, not after waiting so long.
The train still didn’t move.
It was horrible. I didn’t want to see him lose face like that in front of his girlfriend and I turned red and squirmed on his behalf. I was desperate for that train to leave and I think the whole carriage breathed a sigh of relief when we eventually pulled away. We all recognised that feeling – it’s the same feeling you get when the camera stays too long on someone after a television interview and they’re left looking foolish because they don’t know how to react. Everything that needs to be said has been said and a proper ending has been delivered at a natural point. When things go on longer than they should, they become unbearably awkward.
I bet however much that lad cared for the girl on the train, in his head he was screaming, ‘Go now, just go. Please, please fuck off.’
24 February 2009
15 February 2009
Buckley, Vonnegut & Despair
When you’re depressed and you happen to mention to someone that you’re listening to a lot of Jeff Buckley, their first reaction is usually to come round and hide all your knives.
However, I see Buckley’s music as being something that is capable of bringing me out of my despair rather than making it worse. It’s his voice. It triggers something in your head and makes you realise that however bad you’re feeling, you could be feeling a hell of a lot worse. There’s some depth of emotion, some unimagined pain that you’re lucky enough not to know anything about.
I’m not just talking about Hallelujah which is the song that everyone knows, it’s Grace as a whole. Then there’s the other stuff that’s sadly unfinished and less polished – Opened Once; All Flowers In Time Bend Towards The Sun, a duet with Liz Frazer; and his version of Dido’s Lament which is impossible to listen to without turning into emotional mush. He hits the mark and pulls something out of you too often for it to be an accident. The only thing I’ve ever encountered that’s comparable is seeing Sigur Ros live. There’s something there that affects you in an almost subconscious way, emotions that are raw and primeval that make you realise that, in the big scheme of things, how you’re feeling is insignificant.
I take great comfort in that, it gives life some sort of perspective. It’s good to think that I’m largely irrelevant, that the world isn’t affected in the slightest by whatever decisions I make or however miserable I am. On bad days, it’s only by listening to Buckley and reading Kurt Vonnegut that I’m able to get out of bed at all. Vonnegut adds humour, he knows that life can be cruel and miserable and unjust, but manages to say ‘fuck it’ and laughs at it all. Catch 22 has the same sort of effect and if I’m having a particularly bleak day I reach for Camus. The Outsider is pretty much a miracle cure for everything.
As I start to come round, I’ll switch from Buckley to Elbow. I can identify with Elbow’s lyrics, they’re comforting because they make you realise that what you’re going through is relatively normal – others have experienced the same things and have survived it alright. I suppose many people view The Smiths in the same way, that’s why they’re so enduring – the lyrics speak to the listener in some fundamental way.
From Elbow – Radiohead. They’re another band that are accused of being depressing but I find them anything but. I think it’s only the people that don’t take the time to listen to them properly that dismiss them as easily as that. It’s a cop out, a lazy response to music they don’t understand. I like Radiohead the most when they’re being cynical and threatening. Additionally, the band members themselves; how they approach things and their attitude gives me a tremendous confidence boost. OK Computer and The Bends are usually enough to soak up any residual depression. After that, I can listen to Cathy Davey, Pulp, and The Kings of Leon with a clear head and a renewed pleasure in being alive.
Then i’m at my best again; I’m able to look at my life with as much flippancy and detachment as if I was a character in a novel. Nothing really matters so I might as well do whatever I want.
I’m lucky to have found the things that make me feel better. Some people use religion in the same way, others write or paint or lean on their friends. It’s just a matter of finding out what works for you personally and fits in with your own beliefs. Everyone needs a crutch from time to time, the real problems occur when you haven’t got one.
However, I see Buckley’s music as being something that is capable of bringing me out of my despair rather than making it worse. It’s his voice. It triggers something in your head and makes you realise that however bad you’re feeling, you could be feeling a hell of a lot worse. There’s some depth of emotion, some unimagined pain that you’re lucky enough not to know anything about.
I’m not just talking about Hallelujah which is the song that everyone knows, it’s Grace as a whole. Then there’s the other stuff that’s sadly unfinished and less polished – Opened Once; All Flowers In Time Bend Towards The Sun, a duet with Liz Frazer; and his version of Dido’s Lament which is impossible to listen to without turning into emotional mush. He hits the mark and pulls something out of you too often for it to be an accident. The only thing I’ve ever encountered that’s comparable is seeing Sigur Ros live. There’s something there that affects you in an almost subconscious way, emotions that are raw and primeval that make you realise that, in the big scheme of things, how you’re feeling is insignificant.
I take great comfort in that, it gives life some sort of perspective. It’s good to think that I’m largely irrelevant, that the world isn’t affected in the slightest by whatever decisions I make or however miserable I am. On bad days, it’s only by listening to Buckley and reading Kurt Vonnegut that I’m able to get out of bed at all. Vonnegut adds humour, he knows that life can be cruel and miserable and unjust, but manages to say ‘fuck it’ and laughs at it all. Catch 22 has the same sort of effect and if I’m having a particularly bleak day I reach for Camus. The Outsider is pretty much a miracle cure for everything.
As I start to come round, I’ll switch from Buckley to Elbow. I can identify with Elbow’s lyrics, they’re comforting because they make you realise that what you’re going through is relatively normal – others have experienced the same things and have survived it alright. I suppose many people view The Smiths in the same way, that’s why they’re so enduring – the lyrics speak to the listener in some fundamental way.
From Elbow – Radiohead. They’re another band that are accused of being depressing but I find them anything but. I think it’s only the people that don’t take the time to listen to them properly that dismiss them as easily as that. It’s a cop out, a lazy response to music they don’t understand. I like Radiohead the most when they’re being cynical and threatening. Additionally, the band members themselves; how they approach things and their attitude gives me a tremendous confidence boost. OK Computer and The Bends are usually enough to soak up any residual depression. After that, I can listen to Cathy Davey, Pulp, and The Kings of Leon with a clear head and a renewed pleasure in being alive.
Then i’m at my best again; I’m able to look at my life with as much flippancy and detachment as if I was a character in a novel. Nothing really matters so I might as well do whatever I want.
I’m lucky to have found the things that make me feel better. Some people use religion in the same way, others write or paint or lean on their friends. It’s just a matter of finding out what works for you personally and fits in with your own beliefs. Everyone needs a crutch from time to time, the real problems occur when you haven’t got one.
13 February 2009
Musical Jervis Cake
First, prepare the base:
- Mix together 2 cups of A Forest by The Cure, and 2 cups of Let Down by Radiohead.
- Now stir in a big dollop of Every Day Is Like Sunday by Morrissey.
- Add a few sprinklings of Creep by Radiohead to the mix – not too much though as it has a strong taste and may overpower the rest of the flavours. Creep sprinklings are heavier than the rest of the mixture so will sink to the bottom providing a solid base for the cake to sit on.
- Stir thoroughly.
- Place in the oven on a low heat for several days. You could even try stewing it for variety.
- When the base is properly browned off, spread a thin layer of Ride of The Valkyries to the top before preparing the upper and more substantial layer of the cake.
The upper layer:
- Take a full 3 cups of Float On by Modest Mouse and stir in some Cold Man’s Nightmare by Cathy Davey.
- 2 tablespoons of Leave Them All Behind by Ride.
- 1 tablespoon of In Pursuit of Happiness by Divine Comedy.
- Pour in lashings of Running The World by Jarvis Cocker, and squeeze in some Four Minute Rebellion by Matthew Jay to take the edge off the harsh taste.
- Finally add 1 and a half teaspoons of Can’t Be Sure by The Sundays.
- Don’t stir the mixture too thoroughly, leave some of the ingredients a bit lumpy and solid. It’ll be an interesting effect when you bite the cake and get a chunk of some random, unexpected flavour.
- Put in the oven at a very high heat, at least gas mark 28.
Now, place the upper layer on top of the base. You should be very firm with this, squash the base down so that the top layer is almost twice the depth of the lower.
Apply a liberal coating of I Am A Rock by Simon and Garfunkel to the whole thing and garnish with Blister In The Sun by The Violent Femmes and a pinch of Eternal Life by Jeff Buckley.
Serving Suggestion:
The cake may have a rather bitter and overpowering taste so it’s advisable to eat with a nice glass of Lilac Wine as an accompaniment.
- Mix together 2 cups of A Forest by The Cure, and 2 cups of Let Down by Radiohead.
- Now stir in a big dollop of Every Day Is Like Sunday by Morrissey.
- Add a few sprinklings of Creep by Radiohead to the mix – not too much though as it has a strong taste and may overpower the rest of the flavours. Creep sprinklings are heavier than the rest of the mixture so will sink to the bottom providing a solid base for the cake to sit on.
- Stir thoroughly.
- Place in the oven on a low heat for several days. You could even try stewing it for variety.
- When the base is properly browned off, spread a thin layer of Ride of The Valkyries to the top before preparing the upper and more substantial layer of the cake.
The upper layer:
- Take a full 3 cups of Float On by Modest Mouse and stir in some Cold Man’s Nightmare by Cathy Davey.
- 2 tablespoons of Leave Them All Behind by Ride.
- 1 tablespoon of In Pursuit of Happiness by Divine Comedy.
- Pour in lashings of Running The World by Jarvis Cocker, and squeeze in some Four Minute Rebellion by Matthew Jay to take the edge off the harsh taste.
- Finally add 1 and a half teaspoons of Can’t Be Sure by The Sundays.
- Don’t stir the mixture too thoroughly, leave some of the ingredients a bit lumpy and solid. It’ll be an interesting effect when you bite the cake and get a chunk of some random, unexpected flavour.
- Put in the oven at a very high heat, at least gas mark 28.
Now, place the upper layer on top of the base. You should be very firm with this, squash the base down so that the top layer is almost twice the depth of the lower.
Apply a liberal coating of I Am A Rock by Simon and Garfunkel to the whole thing and garnish with Blister In The Sun by The Violent Femmes and a pinch of Eternal Life by Jeff Buckley.
Serving Suggestion:
The cake may have a rather bitter and overpowering taste so it’s advisable to eat with a nice glass of Lilac Wine as an accompaniment.
09 February 2009
Hello there
I'm not a huge fan of the Blog thing.
There seem to be too many people who think that their point of view is so fascinating and relevant that they've just got to share it with the world.
I know why - it’s the media and the internet’s fault. You get all this information, all this news that inevitably makes you concerned or angry. But the impact is all one way. You work yourself up into a state over something that’s happened on the other side of the world and you’re so disconnected from the actual event that there’s nothing you can do about it. Unless you detach yourself from things you just end up feeling impotent and useless.
So, for the people who haven’t yet come to terms with the fact that they’re nobodies, Blogs are a way of getting their point of view across – a way of pretending that they matter. I suppose it’s a good way to get everything out of your system from time to time. It’s better than letting all that frustration fester and swell until you can’t control it anymore and embark on some kind of killing spree.
However, there are a lot of people blogging who think they’re a lot more interesting than they actually are. Too many people using pompous language and needlessly long words that are usually spelt wrong – as if they were journalists writing for publication. Well, this isn't a publication; it's a blog - and nobody's reading it.
Having said that, I thought I'd stick my oar in as well.
I did the 100 words thing last month and, more than the discipline of coming up with something every day, I found that I was thinking about topics and the whole process of writing a lot more too. That’s got to be a good thing hasn’t it? Usually 100 words were enough to get across whatever I wanted to say, but occasionally I could have done with a few more. A blog isn’t so rigid in its restrictions, I can expand a bit on here. Also, it’ll be appreciated by my friends who are no doubt tired of reading lengthy, rambling, and largely irrelevant emails from me when an ‘OK, see you at 8’ would probably do. Might as well stick all that extra nonsense on here instead.
Won’t that be fun?
There seem to be too many people who think that their point of view is so fascinating and relevant that they've just got to share it with the world.
I know why - it’s the media and the internet’s fault. You get all this information, all this news that inevitably makes you concerned or angry. But the impact is all one way. You work yourself up into a state over something that’s happened on the other side of the world and you’re so disconnected from the actual event that there’s nothing you can do about it. Unless you detach yourself from things you just end up feeling impotent and useless.
So, for the people who haven’t yet come to terms with the fact that they’re nobodies, Blogs are a way of getting their point of view across – a way of pretending that they matter. I suppose it’s a good way to get everything out of your system from time to time. It’s better than letting all that frustration fester and swell until you can’t control it anymore and embark on some kind of killing spree.
However, there are a lot of people blogging who think they’re a lot more interesting than they actually are. Too many people using pompous language and needlessly long words that are usually spelt wrong – as if they were journalists writing for publication. Well, this isn't a publication; it's a blog - and nobody's reading it.
Having said that, I thought I'd stick my oar in as well.
I did the 100 words thing last month and, more than the discipline of coming up with something every day, I found that I was thinking about topics and the whole process of writing a lot more too. That’s got to be a good thing hasn’t it? Usually 100 words were enough to get across whatever I wanted to say, but occasionally I could have done with a few more. A blog isn’t so rigid in its restrictions, I can expand a bit on here. Also, it’ll be appreciated by my friends who are no doubt tired of reading lengthy, rambling, and largely irrelevant emails from me when an ‘OK, see you at 8’ would probably do. Might as well stick all that extra nonsense on here instead.
Won’t that be fun?
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