U2’s considerable triumph

I hate U2 and I like Bono even less.

I’m one of those sorts of people who will start foaming at the mouth when I see the man in a picture. You may also like to know that I also run a very high risk of bursting a handful of blood vessels if I see him open his mouth and hear him talk. I didn’t get (and still don’t) understand anyone who get’s excited by their music. Even a casual listen to their music leaves me wondering what the fuss is about. But more tiresome than any of that : One of the band members is called “The Edge”, for God’s sake. The words ‘pretentious’ and ‘idiots’ spring to mind?

And yet, something weird has happened this weekend. Given my limited knowledge and even less desire to research the topic fully for something approximating a reasonably interesting blog post, I appear to have made a discovery. 

U2 are everywhere with their new album New Line On The Horizon. That might be one of the reasons I responded to a Radio 2 web producer on Facebook when I read his status message noting Adam and Joe’s mild slagging-off of U2 in their 6 Music show with the very real feeling : “Jon wonders whether U2 stayed on the roof of Broadcasting House last night and, if they didn’t, perhaps they ought to have done.”

Of course, if you’ve been on some kind of alcohol-fuelled bender for all of Friday you will be blissfully unaware that U2 descended on the BBC’s Broadcasting House yesterday, playing in the Radio Theatre at around lunchtime, doing an interview with Chris Evans later in the day before hopping around like the middle-aged rockers they really are (I’ve not watched the resulting video but I bet Bono’s wearing those damn sunglasses despite it being dark) on the roof overlooking 750 fans cramming Regent Street below. (I bet their view was a little restricted. Shame. My heart bleeds.)

Pictures abound of the event and a spot of mobile video from Flickr user and BBC-Audio-and-Music-technology-blokey-who-I-need-pay- back-for-a-coffee-he-bought me FatController.

Not only that, U2 have been on most music related outlets I know of (predictably most of these are BBC things) including The Culture Show (there were moments when I found Bono to be at his most irritating) and Radio 4’s Front Row – don’t be surprised like I was to discover that the interviews contain pretty much the same responses in both programmes.

U2 even have their own BBC website featuring all the exclusive content the Corporation’s Audio and Music department has produced. With my pseudo-geek multiplatform webbie type hat on, I can confirm it’s a tasty design and a well executed web offering. It feels right for the event. It ticks all the right boxes any web producer has to face on a daily basis at the BBC. It is, in short, the kind of project I wished I’d worked on despite the fact that I loathe U2. Most pertinent of all is that the website shows the way in which BBC websites should (and I think I’m right in saying will go) in pulling together relevant content from right across different networks into one easy to absorb “topic” based site. You might want to speak to someone more senior for a more official statement on this. 

With all that in mind, I have to report that my initial feelings about U2 may well be changing given the band’s now obvious masterstroke.

I first saw their new album advertised on the Tube journey to work. I found it difficult to resist taking a picture. “Oh, it’s them” I thought. “Marvellous. I bet we’ll be hearing a lot of them in the next few weeks. Might be interesting to follow that little process.” Even if you’re reading that cold it might be worth me stressing I was rolling my eyes and generally sneering about the whole thing. (For further evidence please see the opening gambit of this post .. many thanks.)

Now I’ve finished what amounts to my usual regular Saturday afternoon doze and log on to Spotify (for the first time since I got my login set up) I discover the entire album is being promoted on the new music service. Seeing as everyone else is talking about them (at least it seems that way), I’d better listen to the album. In the interests of research, lets see if I hate the music on the new album as much as my gut reaction to Bono and his stupid glasses and even more irritating viewpoints on various global issues (with particular emphasis on climate change).

The answer is .. I quite like the album. In fact, I really like the album. If this is U2 (and really – I know it’s a sad thing to confess – but really, I’ve never made a point of listening to their stuff before – it’s always been white noise) then maybe they’re not quite so bad after all. I might even download the album or .. who knows .. buy it on CD. Actually, I might go as far as to say .. well done them. 

And what did it take? A massive PR effort involving a global broadcaster, various print media outlets, advertising sold all over the internet and a deal with new belle-of-the-internet-ball Spotify. It must have cost them a fortune.  Still, at least they can count me as a new convert. I bet they’ll be delighted with that.

Radio Highlights: Sat 28 Feb – Friday 6 March 2009

Away from home and working late this week, I need to plan my listening to provide some welcome relief and take my mind off any bouts of homesickness I might suffer from. Thus I commit to the following perceived radio gems in the coming week.

The Talented Mr Ripley / Saturday 28 February 2009, Radio 4, 2.30-3.30pm
Happy to confess that I haven’t actually seen the film or read the book. But going on the way I totally got into listening to hour long segments of the radio dramatisation of To Serve Them All My Days this time last year, I’m relishing the opportunity to listen to Patricia Highsmith’s novels over 5 weeks.

The Bottom Line / Saturday 28 February 2009, Radio 4, 5.30pm
Evan Davies hosts a discussion about the future of computing and Microsoft vs. Google amongst other things. I’m looking forward to hearing about the thorny issue of cloud computing in the hope I might hit upon some rouse to sabotage the growing popularity for cloud computing.

Stand-Up With the Stars / Sunday 1 March 2009, Radio 4, 1.30pm
Comic Relief has landed on Radio 4. It was inevitable. In this little number, Evan Davis, Libby Purves, Peter White and Laurie Taylor try a spot of stand-up for the charity. I will be listening for all the wrong reasons.

Woman’s Hour / Monday 2 March 2009, Radio 4, 10.00am
I’ve recently basked on a Twitter and Facebook holiday. It’s been bliss. Life has returned to normal. So in a bid to see whether I’m missing anything (it certainly doesn’t feel that way) I’ll be listening to Woman’s Hour doing social networking in Monday’s programme.

Front Row / Monday 2 March 2009, Radio 4, 7.15pm
Leslie Garrett joins Katherine Jenkins and James Taylor to talk about singing live in large arenas. I’ll listen and pass on any tips I think UK Eurovision representative Jade Ewen might need.

Performance on 3 / Monday 2 March 2009, Radio 3, 7.00pm
Clearly there’s going to be a bit of a scheduling clash with Front Row (above) but it’s ages since I’ve heard a regional orchestra that isn’t either a BBC or part-funded BBC band. The Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra always seemed rather good in the past. Are they now? A fairly safe programme of accessible repertoire from the Lighthouse in Poole, Dorset.

Night Waves / Monday 2 March 2009, Radio 3, 9.15pm
Everyone’s favourite irritatingly intelligent, well-informed and unsmug radio presenter Matthew Sweet isn’t presenting this edition of Night Waves. Instead it’s Bidisha talking dance with studio guests Sylvie Guillern, Robert Lepage, Russell Malipant and Alexander McQueen about a new Sadler’s Wells collaboration called Eonnagata. I’m sharpening my pencil and retrieving my notebook in preparation …

Readings from Bath / Tuesday 3 March 2009, Radio 3, 3.30pm
Series of three short stories from the Bath Literature Festival kicking off with a short from Pippa Haywood. There aren’t enough short stories around it seems to me, at least not on radio.

Schoenberg’s Gurreleider / Tuesday 3 March 2009, Radio 3, 7.00pm
As challenges go this is one of the more demanding ones as far as I’m concerned. The Philharmonia Orchestra play Schoenberg’s seminal work. It’s a tough one. But I’m ready for something tough and challenging to listen to.

Performance on 3 / Wednesday 4 March 2009, Radio 3, 7.00pm
The BBC Symphony Orchestra runs over some Strauss, the Chopin Piano Concerto (a personal favourite of mine) and Ravel’s La Valse in a concert recorded at the Barbican last week. Nice.

I will also be watching Newsnight Review to see what the panellists thought about Doctor Atomic opening night .

Wendy Richard’s newspaper memorial

Commuters are the newspaper editors’ captive audience. Trapped in a train carriage or a tube train, an editor must surely know that their target audience isn’t just those who purchase their publication but also those travelling to work who clock the front cover of other publications in the hands of other commuters, or read a story over someone else’s shoulder.

There’s no more potent a reminder of this than this morning.

News of Wendy Richard’s death has provided tabloid newspaper editors with useful material. Gory details aren’t necessary here, instead an opportunity to juxtapose the word “institution” with full page images of the recently deceased in his or her heyday.

All the elements are there. A person instantly recognisable to a mainstream audience has died from an incurable disease. Richard is pictured a shadow of her former self. The implicit editorial guaranteed to tug at the heart strings.

It’s not just that it will sell papers. Stories like present a different angle on a disease which everyone hears about all the time but no-one thinks they will suffer from. More cynical observers might also suggest that such stories reinforce newspaper brands with its existing audience whilst striking a chord with a new one.

Such a deeply cynical view may initially appear as deeply insensitive. That’s not the intention, however.

Instead, the Richard story is a perfect example of how the tangible effect of newspapers steals a march over TV and radio. If reading news online provides a chunk of almost immediately disposable content, then newspapers have the power in some instances of offering something more lasting by judicious use of full-page images and highly-crafted copy.

Perhaps it goes some way to quieten the voices who pronounce the newspaper’s life is at an end.

Doctor Atomic \ ENO \ Adams \ Woolcock

Doctor Atomic @ ENO, originally uploaded by Thoroughly Good.

English National Opera scheduled a history lesson this evening with a performance of John Adam’s Doctor Atomic, one which struggled to rise to the dramatic challenges posed by a plot of which the audience knew the denouement long before the houselights dimmed.

The UK premiere of the opera set in the run up to the testing of the first atomic bomb promised all the weight of Adam’s operatic success Nixon in China. An audience waited to be stunned.

But whilst the first scene delivered a grotesquely unnerving realism combining Adams’ skilfully gargantuan soundscape and the documentary evidence peppered throughout the libretto, the plot quickly gave way to seemingly vast expanses of weak character development on which the success of the work ultimately depended.

Director Penny Woolcock had already conceded in an discussion on Radio 4’s Start The Week this week that protagonist Oppenheimer’s wife had been subject to a certain amount of dramatic licence in the libretto compared to other characters in the work. What grated more however was Oppenheimer’s seemingly rapid move from total absorption in his work to near ecstatic intoxication by the smell of his wife’s hair (we were told it smelt of tobacco, opium and sugar) in the space of ten minutes.

When General Groves demanded a confirmed weather forecast on pain of death in the next scene followed by a detailed account of his daily calorific intake and its impact on his waistline, the reality of a balcony seat began to kick in for some of us. Was it really meant to be making light of the whole affair when the first scene had set some of us on a different path?

Surprisingly, casual disinterest at the beginning of the second half didn’t make the prospect of a further hour and ten minutes totally unbearable, possibly because most looked forward to the visual representation of what the detonation. The sight of the bomb and those busying themselves around it earlier on in the performance may have contributed to a feeling that the entire Manhattan Project had risked being a slightly Heath Robinson affair, but come the blast simplicity saved the day.

The audience rightly applauded faultless soloists and chorus and an orchestra at ease with Adams’ orchestration before running home to read over their programme and look for the next first night to attend.

ISIHAC or is it “Clue”?

There’s a comment on Mark Damazer’s latest Radio 4 blog from a reader who quite rightly points out that the Radio 4 show “I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue” is referred to by the cognascenti as “ISIHAC” and not “Clue”. Yes, I know it’s pedantic but that commenter is right.

Poor old Mark Damazer. He might be controller of Radio 4 and someone listed on the page marked “Very Important People To Keep Sweet” in my special never-to-be-seen notebook, but he’s taking a huge risk here announcing that Stephen Fry, Jack Dee and Rob Brydon will be guest-hosting the much-loved, almost cult show which made the late Humphrey Lyttleton a hero for his filthy misdirection and general affableness.

I’ve never met Mr Damzer or spoken to him, but I do feel a little nervous on his behalf. Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure why I’m feeling defensive or protective. Controller Damazer has stuck his head above the parapet by making the announcement about the forthcoming recordings of ISIHAC: “I am confident the shows will work. So, fingers crossed,” he writes on his blog. Really and truly, Mr Damazer doesn’t need the likes of me leaping to his defence. And yet I still feel a tiny bit protective.

On the basis that you may be someone who hasn’t listened to it, ISIHAC is an institution. Those who listen and have enjoyed it know there’s a special place in their heart especially reserved for this very programme. It doesn’t matter how many times those listeners have played the tapes they’ve acquired over the years, each listen is just as fresh as the last.

The show is about Humph. Humph and his vehicle has provoked warmth and love. Listeners of this programme don’t like change. We hate it even though we know we have to embrace it. Listen carefully and I’m sure I can hear hordes of spear-yielding listeners marching down Regent Street towards Broadcasting House with plans to puncture the tyres on Mr Damazer’s cars, thus delaying his journey home. I would join in the throng, but I need to go to bed.

Who’d be a controller? It’s got to be a tough, decidedly unpleasant job. All that ‘having to make decisions’ and hoping they’re the right decisions.

Stephen Fry, Jack Dee and Rob Brydon will do a great job. Personally, if I was forced to choose between them then I imagine I’d warm to Dee in the big seat on account of Fry seemingly being everywhere at the moment and Brydon always being my number three choice with everything anyway.

But that’s my view. It’s based on nothing but imagination. The fact is that whilst I’m reluctant to enthuse about the show I’ve adored listening to for years continue, I can think of no better people to take up the mantle.

One thing’s for certain. You can be assured that people will listen intently to the final product. Those of us who listen (the same who contacted each other when we heard that Lyttleton had died) will be chattering away when the new shows are broadcast.

There will be a buzz about this (I think).

Radio highlights: Sat 21 – Fri 27 Feb 2009

From my big bucket of radio titbits (well, let’s be honest, I usually only listen to Radio 3 or 4) I offer the following

The Saturday Play: The Lady In The Van
Saturday 21 February 2009, 2.30pm
Those frightfully important people at Radio 4 know only too well that Saturday afternoons are the best time to get stuck into a juicy play. Alan Bennett’s autobiographical play features this afternoon starring Maggie Smith. We love Maggie Smith, we do. >> Review [The Stage]

Desert Island Discs: David Walliams
Sunday 22 February 2009, 11.15am
There’s a cartoon picture of Little Britain star David Walliams in the Radio Times this week sporting a swimming cap. It reminds me of his Comic Relief effort to swim the channel for charity. That reminds me of a possible reason why Mr Walliams is on DiD. Comic Relief will soon be upon us … 

Archive on 4: Agony 
Saturday 21 February 2009, 8pm
You’d think I’d have a life and not be in on a Saturday night. Well, I don’t. So given that I’ll be in I’ll be listening to Jenny Murray explore the world of agony aunts and uncles, quite possibly because I did at one point in my teenage years engage in an exchange of letters with an agony aunt. (Be sure to listen to the full version on iPlayer if you miss it at transmission).

Drama on 3: The Time Machine
Sunday 22 February 2009, 8pm
Memories of reading HG Wells’ classic tale during english classes at school come flooding back whenever I think of The Time Machine. Now there’s a radio play even longer than the Saturday Play for me to indulge in. Nice. >> Review [The Stage]

It’s My Story: the Boxing Civil Servant
Monday 23 February 2009, 8pm
What posessed a 50-year old Department of Transport civil servant to launch herself into boxing promotion exactly? Journalist Jackie Ashley finds out. I hope the billing in the Radio Times doesn’t let me down.  

Cabin Pressure
Tuesday 24 February 2009, 6.30pm
Radio 4 Controller recently defended the number of repeats on the network on his shiny new blog. He seemed rather robust. Personally, I don’t mind repeats on Radio 4 so long as that which is repeated is good. Gentle and corny stuff in this series being rerun from July 2008. 

Seven Days
Thursday 26 February 2009, 8pm
Interesting piece of swiftly-turned around 30 minute radio journalism following people who have suffered as a result of the economic crisis in Stoke on Trent.

Afternoon Play: This Repulsive Woman
Friday 27 February 2009, 2.15pm
A fictional story inspired by recent events recorded the week before transmission. Impressive. 

The Verb
Friday 27 February 2009, 9.15pm
Yet more drama for me this week with an edition of Radio 3’s The Verb featuring new short radio dramas sourced from the BBC Writersroom initiative.  

Vita Nuova \ LPO \ Jurowski \ Martynov

It was an opera, originally uploaded by Thoroughly Good.

In theory, world premieres of anything must surely come with a selection of must-haves including an incomprehensible sound listened to by a confused audience engaging in an internal dialogue about the cost of their ticket, their proximity to the exit and the time of the next train home.

Tonight’s world premiere of Vladimir Martynov’s Vita Nuova (New Life) at London’s Royal Festival Hall might have contained all of these things. One member of the audience was seen walking swiftly out of the auditorium part way through the first half.

The majority of the audience remained throughout the entire performance however, despite what might have seemed on paper at least as an evening of challenging and impenetrable music. After all, if you know you’re going to listen to some new music by a relatively unheard of Russian composer who has in his past explored the avant-garde and serial technique, you’re going to make certain assumptions before you get to the concert hall.

In fairness, there had been a reasonable amount of explanation of Martynov’s musical influences and his intentions for the composition of his opera before the event. It certainly felt like that. But maybe I was just homing in on all the information I could find about the work before I attended it. I do like to go prepared if I’m about to hear something for the first time.

On Thursday 13 February, two days before the assembled company of the London Philharmonic Orchestra, soloists and Europachoraakademie began rehearsing for tonight’s performance, conductor Vladimir Jurowski hedged his bets on what the audience reaction might be in an interview with Tom Service for the Guardian

“ … to be honest, it could end up being a total misunderstanding – or the beginning of a very interesting discussion … Some people will find it confusing, even disgusting. Others, I am sure, will find this piece a revelation.”

It’s difficult to know how anyone would have been disgusted by the work or the performance. Confusion too was unlikely to be on the cards following Jurowski’s pre-performance talk during which a great deal of time given over to defending Martynov’s plundering of musical styles. The work was described by the host of the event as “user-friendly” with “plenty of melodies”. But it was the broad selection of musical influences imitated in nearly all (except for two chords) which Jurwoski explained was a deliberate on the part of the composer.

For Martynov, the second world war marked the end of an era of composing. Traditionally composed music of that which the European tradition had become accustomed to was now at an end. There was nothing more to write. Composers now turned to different compositional techniques as a way of trying to come to terms with what to do next.

Put like that, Martynov’s Vita Nuova was a work which documented the true period of composing, drawing on the works and styles of the past and combining them in a work which set out to make “music about music” combining plainchant, operatic recitative and traditional operatic styles.

Thus Martynov’s setting of Dante’s work La Vita Nuova shaped up to be more of a pragmatic (or possibly shameless) attempt at pulling in audience rather than the potentially powerful statement or call to action Jurowski claimed it might be in his Guardian interview.

One question remained. Was it really an opera ? Jurowski went to great lengths to point out that Martynov’s use of the word (it appeared on the front page of the score titled as an opera) was more a reference to the original meaning of the word – “the work” – than a literal reference conjuring up the kind of opera performances most audiences are accustomed to. .

The finer points of the conductor’s definition were somewhat lost come the performance, however. The use of Dante’s work, with a strong narrative set to music, executed by soloists, chorus and orchestra had all the hallmarks of opera. This combined with subtle stage lighting and a sedately choreographed chorus made the definition undeniably traditional. To all intents and purposes this was opera. Certainly no misunderstanding there.

Even if the resulting mish-mash of musical styles made it sometimes feel like a wander through a musical museum, Martynov may still have achieved something really quite impressive. The Festival Hall saw an impressive box office for tonight’s world premiere. The music was accessible, the story easy to follow and the stage visually engaging despite the cut-down drama of a concert performance.

Even without surtitles or a programme, it wouldn’t have taken much to follow what was going on. There may have been times when a spot of editing might have been in order (especially from the second half of Act 3 onwards) but the vocal work in the soloists, in particular Mark Padmore ensured attention remained squarely on the stage.

Its rich mix of musical styles combined with its simple yet effective staging opportunities make this an opera which has the potential of making anyone setting foot in the concert hall for the first time feel welcome and at ease. And for those of us who haven’t read Dante before, the prospect doesn’t seem anywhere near as daunting as it did before the performance.

Other members of the audience had a slightly different experience. Times Online reviewer Richard Morrison was scathing, Intermezzo seemed less than impressed in the work being “not so new after all” whilst Tweeter @helenium experienced “absolute weirdness, helped along by paedophilia, death and disease”.

TV: Rick Stein on Who Do You Think You Are?

Last night saw something of a present-day curiosity in terms of TV, a loosely termed family consisting of a married couple and their newborn baby, me and my significant other all sat around the kitchen table. Once we’d finished our meal, one of us piped up:  “Rick Stein is on that Who Do You Think You Are? this evening, isn’t he? Anyone fancy watching it?”

On paper, bipolar sufferer Rick Stein’s appearance on the genealogy show wasn’t guaranteeing anything other than doom and gloom. Precious little light relief was on offer. And yet, Stein shows physical signs of emotional damage which makes him and his story alluring.

That may sound deeply insensitive on my part, but it is honest. Mental health is an interesting subject and one which I’m immediately drawn to. It’s feeding a part of my brain I’m not necessarily very proud of.

The programme did spend a good twenty minutes exploring Rick’s condition, his relationship with his father and the possible causes of his and his father’s bipolar condition.

But although there were some surprises revealed about the success rate of electro-convulsive therapy in the 1960s, the implied answer to Stein’s nature versus nuture question about bi-polar was disappointingly predictable even if it did reinforce a by-now demystified view of what the condition really is.

Stein’s mother’s story provided some interesting observations especially about women at universities in the first half of the twentieth century. Learning that women studying for degrees in the 1930s still faced an uphill struggle seeking employment was interesting. So too her origins in Canton as a daughter of a Methodist missionary on the conversion trail in China.

I wanted him to delve further into the past and to be in pursuit of an answer to a question he hadn’t asked himself. That said, I wonder whether this maybe a symptom of someone who by virtue of his condition will probably have asked and possibly answered a great many unanswered questions already.

If anything the episode demonstrates how accustomed a TV viewer is to a TV format like this, so much so that when certain things are different the likes of us notice instantly. It seems I’m not the only one who thought that.

In comparison to the other celebrities in this series, this has been the only episode I’ve watched and on that basis the episode is still worth a watch. And of course .. if you’ve got HD, those shots of Cornwall are, frankly, to die for …

Watch Rick Stein on BBC iPlayer here.

Recap on previous episodes of Who Do You Think You Are here.

Eurovision 2009: UK’s Jade starts early

Mail on Sunday, Sunday 15 February 2009, originally uploaded by Thoroughly Good.

UK Eurovision representative Jade (and potential passport to a lifetime of Eurovision-related bliss should a UK win at Eurovision actually turn out to be a reality) appears in The Mail on Sunday today.

In case you think this is an unneccessarily dull Eurovision-related blog posting let me just point out the blindingly obvious: Eurovision NEVER gets a mention in the press until the run up to the main event. And that’s if we’re REALLY lucky.

In years gone by those Eurovision related pieces in the press follow a predictable angle: Terry Wogan mixed with kitsch mixed with scorn poured over Europe = the UK view of Eurovision.

This year, for the first time ever, we get a profile on Jade and her family with a few titbits about the run up to the final on May 16.

According to the Mail on Sunday, Andrew Lloyd Webber will play the piano accompanying Jade as she sings (I’m not passing comment on this but I’m flagging it up as a possibility nonetheless). The MoS also reports that that the lovely Jade will make an appearance “in Sweden” in the coming weeks and that Lloyd-Webber and Diane Warren’s song My Time will be available to buy on May 4.

In the grand scheme of things this may not seems like a desperately important thing but believe me .. it is. The last time I obtained a copy of the UK Eurovision song it was in the week of rehearsals in 2003 and they were giving them away for free. The fact this year’s is available a few weeks before those final rehearsals and I’ll have to pay for a copy is making this year quite different in terms Eurovision history.

What with this news and Jade’s recent appearance on the Maltese Eurosong selection programme (yes, if you’re a Euro-fan I know the Maltese final was some time ago now) was actually rather good, I’m feeling a good deal more confident that May won’t be a car crash.

Mind you, I haven’t seen any of the competition yet.

TV & Radio for the next 7 days

This posting is one borne out of necessity. What follows are my viewing and listening intentions for the next seven days. Now all I have to do is programme the damn Sky+ box to record it all. I’m not sure I can be arsed now I’ve committed all this to delicious. Maybe I’ll just stay in to watch and listen instead.

Sunday 15 February, Radio 4: Classic Serial – Scoop
Satire on journalism in a dramatisation of Eveleyn Waugh’s work. Starring Tim McInnery (the bloke from Blackadder amongst other things) and Rory Kinnear.

Sunday 15 February, Radio 3: Drama on 3 – Harold Pinter
Tasty rerun of Pinter’s 1993 play Moonlight with a broadcast of his 2005 radio piece Voices. Always very interested in hearing stuff specifically written for radio.

Sunday 15 February, BBC One: Damages “I Lied Too”
Sunday night crime stuff in the return of Damages starring Glenn Close. Didn’t watch the first series but will drop in to see whether I can pick this up.

Sunday 15 February, BBC One: The Victorians – “Painting the Town”
Victorian history delivered by Mr Paxman via his love of painting.

Monday 16 February, Radio 3: Lunchtime Concert
Live broadcast of an all Bach programme of violin music played by Alina Ibragimova from the Wigmore Hall.

Monday 16 February, BBC One: Who Do You Think You Are? – Rick Stein
I wouldn’t normally watch it, but Who Do You Think You Are? has featured a handful of interesting people over the past few years. Stephen Fry was one and now this one with bipolar sufferer Rick Stein. Expect very few laughs.

Monday 16 February, Channel 4: The Gangster & the Pervert Peer
What is it that’s so intriguing about the Krays? Violent thugs terrorising individuals in order to wield power who had relationships with all sorts of unusually important and high profile people. This programme examines a relationship with a Tory peer.

Tuesday 17 February, Radio 4: Talking about Lionel
I’ve never been absolutely convinced about how good Oliver! the musical really is, especially given it’s presently box office sales. There is however something compelling about Lionel Bart – the composer’s – sad life, documented here by Eddie Mair and various contributors.

Tuesday 17 February, Radio 4: Musical Analysis – Ravel
Continuing Robert Winston’s excellent series exploring how illness effected a composer’s output (Gustav Mahler was especially good, it has to be said), this week the professor examines dementia sufferer Maurice Ravel.

Tuesday 17 February, More 4: Here’s Johnny
Multiple scelrosis sufferer Johnny Hinkleton uses his illustration skills to help escape the effects of his dibilitating disorder. Gritty, difficult stuff to watch. A valuable insight, I’m sure.

Wednesday 18 February, ITV1 – The BRIT Awards 2009
I may watch this … merely for research purposes you understand.

Wednesday 18 February, BBC Two: Trouble in Amish Paradise
Amish communities are fascinating and I don’t know enough about them.

Thursday 19 February, Radio 4: The Life & Death of Sarah Kane
Twenty eight year old playwright Sarah Kane died after committing suicide four days after writing her play 4.48 Psychosis. Before that she’d written Blasted, a play about the Balkan Conflict for which she was originally criticised. It’s now regarded as a classic. This documentary sees contributors who knew Kane give an insight into her life.

Thursday 19 February, BBC Four: Britain’s Best Drives
A programme devoted to driving routes up and down the country as featured in motorway guides from 50 years ago. Doesn’t leap off the page does it? Maybe not. But then it doesn’t need to. It’s on BBC Four and sometimes us humble viewers like the simple ideas.

Thursday 19 February, BBC Four: Penelope Keith & The Fast Lady
Penelope Keith isn’t on television enough. Here she tells the story of motoring lady Dorothy Levitt and her journey in 1905 from London to Liverpool. Cue lots of shots of rural countryside (surely?) And .. ooh look. It’s in HD too.

Radio: Musical Analysis

I’d originally intended to make this blog post ramble on for ages and ages but energy (or a lack of it) has got the better of me.

It’s been an arse of a day. There’s been far too much noise going on in and around the office today. Far too many people suddenly appearing wanting to talk to me about one or two little concerns they have about things leaving nothing but a sour taste in the mouth and an even worse odour in the air. What with a friendly warning from some Twitter people about my seemingly prolific output (for “prolific” read “you’re overloading us with twitter messages, please stop”) and a late-afternoon meeting in which I really didn’t stand a chance I was completely exhausted at the end of the day.

An hour and a half on the tube didn’t help either. I spent the entire journey home obssessing. Bitter about blogging, even more bitter about twittering and practically foaming at the mouth at the idea of seemingly hoards of people who found it difficult not to keep away from Twestival. (No, don’t worry if you don’t know what Twestival is. I don’t and I also can’t be arsed to research it for you either, so do it yourself.)

The bitter about blogging bit is the most important, however. Trying times sometimes flick switches making the whole writing process difficult to kick-start.

That’s what this blog is, you see. It’s daily writing practice. It presents the opportunity to sit down at the laptop and force myself to write something – anything – every day. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes the day’s events makes blogging seem like a waste of time.

The same situation may have arisen with composer Gustav Mahler it seems. During the second episode in Robert Winston’s Radio 4 musicology programme (What? You don’t know what musicology means?) focussing on the influence of illness on a composer’s output, it seems possible that Mahler may well have lost his creative mojo after his session with Sigmund Freud. And to think .. Mahler only went to go and see him because he was suffering from impotence.

Well worth a listen.

Does Blue Peter need a change?

Top of the tree, originally uploaded by Thoroughly Good.

The spotlight shining on the BBC children’s magazine show Blue Peter as a result of the BBC Trust’s report into how young audiences are served reminds me of an interesting conversation I had recently with a radio producer.

In a predictably confessional-type conversation, I revealed that I had a serious problem communicating with children. I admitted I was scared of them. I explained that I found it almost impossible connecting with children fearing their acute-awareness for ineptitude and lack of style.

“Why is that exactly, do you think Jon?” he said, his notepad and pen in his hand.

“I suspect it’s because they don’t get sarcasm. If they did, then I’d be fine.”

It was then we both looked at each other, him looking thoughtfully at me. Me looking like I’d hit upon a brilliant idea.

Now I come to look over the printed version of Nicholas Lezard’s piece in G2 I notice that my brilliant idea may well have some mileage.

Nestled alongside the copy in the newspaper was a picture of the Simpsons family. Elsewhere in the piece Lezard explains that his youngest child watches the likes of The Simpsons and Futurama.

Why is the Simpsons such a popular programme amongst audiences? Because it appeals to a variety of different age groups because there’s stuff for the adults which the kids don’t get and stuff for the kids which the adults don’t get.

So, if it works for The Simpsons and Nicholas Lezard’s kids like the Simpons, why on earth couldn’t it work for Blue Peter?

It might. And if it could work then I’d suggest that a mixture of scripted enthusiasm for the kids and a spot of healthy sarcasm for the adults may well turn Blue Peter’s fortunes around (assuming it needs it).

And if that’s the case, I’d suggest what Blue Peter might need is a presenter who is reasonably easy on the eye, reasonably excitable, up for anything, good humoured and passionate. A presenter whose middle name might as well be “sarcastic” based on most of the things he utters and writes on a daily basis.

Should you be in agreement with this proposal, please send a postcard to: The Editor, Blue Peter, BBC Television Centre, Wood Lane, London, W12 8TQ stating that Blue Peter should take on a new presenter, adding my name Jon Jacob.

Simple really, isn’t it?

TV: It’s time to go Nationwide

Esther Rantzen (marvel at her as she was in the 1960s above) was one of a handful of TV yesteryear celebrities who shared their recollections of working on tabloid-style magazine TV programme Nationwide in the shamelessly self-indulgent documentary “It’s time to go .. Nationwide” recently. 

I remember Nationwide although didn’t realise how long it had gone on before I started consuming it. Being a relatively spring chicken, I hadn’t appreciated it actually started out in black and white or that it was produced at the Lime Grove studios in London once owned by the BBC. 

There’s plenty of footage of life at Lime Grove in the programme. Cramped surroundings, ridiculous look corridors designed to confuse visitors and occupants alike, an appalling canteen (according to former Nationwide presenter John Stapleton at any rate) and … horror of horrors, people smoking in the production office. 

It’s a completely different world, one laden with glamour guaranteed to seduce broadcasting history junkie who finds names like Lime Grove, Alexander Palace and Bush House evocative. It’s exterior was hideous and even I can see that working conditions were pretty awful – no surprise it was knocked down – and yet it’s exactly this kind of BBC history which gets me ridiculously excited. 

Watch it via the BBC iPlayer whilst it’s still available or check in at BBC Programmes to see when it’s next on.

There’s always the  blurry footage of Lime Grove below before it was demolished to salivate over in case those other two options fail to register a modicum of interest. </p>

 

Postcard: Greenwich Park

Weekends should be extended by a day. They go far too quickly.

This particular Sunday was spent an afternoon in nearby Greenwich Park. It was fun, if a little nippy around the extremities.

Runners, cyclists, rollerbladers and teenagers playing football. Far too many individuals regarding Sunday as a fitness day. How very tiresome.

When to apologise

I know about apologies. I was a serial apologiser in my youth and long into my adulthood too. Some might even argue that I always assume everything that’s wrong or anything that goes wrong is down to me show through from time to time. It’s something I’ve spent many years trying to iron out.

When I was at school my grasp of basic mathematics was pretty poor, so much so that when I entered the middle school I was judged to be so bad at it that my membership of the C-Group Maths was justified.

Fortunately, however, us dregs of teenage humanity were blessed with a brilliant and unfeasibly old mathematics teacher. He might have felt denied the opportunity to teach advanced mathematics to the intolerable swots sitting in the classroom up the corridor, but us bunch were transfixed.

Our teacher made us laugh and kept us in control. He made sure we paid attention. He drilled into us the importance of SOHCAHTOA. This man inspired us.

Being old as he was, his retirement from teaching was closer than we’d expected. In the final year of our GCSE studies he was replaced by a younger, slightly odder looking man with a receding hairline, wearing shoes which we suspected he’d purchased from a safety clothing catalogue. He had no discernible sense of humour either.

Judging by our new mathematics teacher he also had plans for the future which went further than teaching us the subject. There was more than a sniff of a desire for world domination, it seemed to me.

“Things are going to change around here,” he snapped when the class failed to pay him due reverence during the first lesson. “None of you are very good at maths and that’s displayed in your marks last year. So get used to it. You’ve got between now and half term to buck your ideas up. I’ll be writing a half-term assessment and sending them to your parents. Don’t think I won’t.”

The class veered between taking him deadly seriously and sniggering uncontrollably.

Then came the final death blow.

“I don’t know what your previous teacher was doing but he doesn’t seem to have done much good.”

Jaws dropped to the floor. What did he say? Had he met our previous teacher?

Collective shock slowly passed as the stark reality of the situation hove into view. Within the space of only ten minutes or so, he’d not only failed to assert control but also spectacularly failed to ingratiate himself by insulting his much-loved predecessor.

Two members of the class looked at one another across the sea of desks, one privately deciding to take action.

“Sir,” I said standing in front of his desk as the rest of the class filed out, “I really don’t think you can say the things you did in class just now. There isn’t an assessment before half-term. No other teacher does it. The reports go out at the end of term. You can’t say things like that which aren’t true.”

I stood resolute in front of his desk, staring him in the eyes certain that he would understand the error he had made and rescind on his threat.

He wasn’t quite as open to me questioning his new regime as I hoped he might be.

The man went ballistic. I saw a white, slightly gnarled looking face turn bright red in a matter of seconds. He slammed the board rubber down on the desk and shouted.

“You don’t speak to me like that, my lad,” he bellowed in my face, “kids like you obviously don’t have any respect for authority. It’s about time you learnt some? Who do you think you are speaking to me like that?”

“All I’m saying is …”

“Get out!” he screamed back at me, pointing to the door.

I was petrified by his response. I had been scolded severely with the power of words and the sight of someone’s unusual physical manifestation of anger. I’d never seen that before, not to that extent. Although completely unexpected at the time, I now realise that perhaps me challenging the accepted convention of the teacher-pupil relationship may have had something to do with it.

I was embarrassed too. My contemporaries had witnessed from the relative safety of the corridor. I was an individual as opposed to being part of the crowd. This little escapade wasn’t going to help with my popularity.

I shuffled up to the dining room for lunch alone, still shocked from the incident and wondering if there was anyone who would signal their support for me.

Queuing up for lunch, I glanced at the head of the mathematics department. Normally a jolly individual who usually smiled and said hello to me, at this moment in time his face looked like thunder. He came straight up to me and made his feelings quite clear.

“There’s nothing to say to you Jacob apart from this. Your behaviour was totally inappropriate. Now go and apologise.”

I did. I did it straight after lunch standing in front of my weird looking maths teacher, my tail between my legs. I can’t remember what I said or what he said in return but I know I did it.

Now I come to look on that incident I wonder whether I had anything to apologise for. What had I said that was so incredibly wrong? I might have been cheeky but I hadn’t been rude. I hadn’t sworn or insulted him or waved my genitalia in his face. Did I feel guilty at having made my new maths teacher lose his temper? Hardly. I didn’t know him and based on the first lesson I’d had with him I didn’t particularly like him either.

So why was I apologising? I felt ashamed for something which someone else (the head of the department who didn’t witness the incident) felt embarrassed about. I ended up apologising because the head of the department was the last person I wanted to upset. I was expecting him to provide support not to find that I had seriously annoyed him too.

Thinking back on that incident I realise one absolute truth. The person who should have been apologising was my new maths teacher, not me. His reaction was totally disproportionate to what I had said. I ended up feeling scared as a result of that disproportionate reaction as though I was the entirely to blame for the situation arising.

He may well have had a serious problem with anger – it would be unreasonable to judge entirely on the basis of one incident, although it’s interesting to note that as I recall he didn’t stick around on the staff for long -and in that moment totally lost it with a kid who had been a bit cheeky (albeit extremely protective of the memory of his previous teacher).

I wouldn’t have done it any differently but still it underlines something a lot of people forget: apologies are difficult things to handle and they should be asked for lightly. The effects can go on for a lifetime.

La Boheme / ENO / Sky / Jonathan Miller

La Boheme / ENO / Sky / Jonathan Miller, originally uploaded by Thoroughly Good.

Opera is on the offensive thanks to a blossoming and mutual beneficial relationship between Sky Arts and English National Opera as demonstrated in a live TV event brimming with firsts.

Delayed 48 hours because of London’s heavy snow earlier in the week, opera loving Sky subscribers were able to indulge in a live relay of the opening night of Jonathan Miller’s production of Puccini’s La Boheme, direct from the Coliseum stage in Central London.

Those of us who splashed out on an HD subscription and TV had the added bonus of seeing everything pin sharp too. Opera novices had the option of seeing a separate behind the scenes relay on Sky Arts 1. Shots from the wings, chorus members wandering around backstage and one or two glimpses of the director Jonathan Miller talking to members of the cast. There was something here for everyone.

It was an unexpected indulgence, made even more special because it was mid-week. Such high-brow entertainment surely sits more comfortably on a Saturday night, doesn’t it? For it to be broadcast on a Saturday night would have meant the performance would have been filmed. Those live TV junkies amongst us would have snorted with derision if that had happened. We like our performances live. If we’d wanted a recorded one, we’d have bought a DVD and we certainly wouldn’t be blogging about it if we had.

I’m not an opera fan. I don’t understand it. I recognise the composer’s names and hear the titles of popular operatic works and think I ought to know them. Opera seems like a huge mountain to climb. Something I ought to pay attention to, but am put off by the seemingly considerable commitment.

What makes the difference is a 50” screen, a large glass of red wine, a faultless orchestral performance and some obvious joined-up thinking in terms of broadcasting.

Petroc Trelawney (yes him, the bloke who used to do stuff on Classic FM and now presents BBC Radio 3’s In Tune from time to time) did the front of house stuff from the auditorium interviewing librettist Amanda Holden and director Jonathan Miller. Trelawney was engaging and in no way obtrusive. For the record, Jonathan Miller could have delayed the start of the second half. The man doesn’t get anywhere near enough air-time (assuming he wants it). The man could talk for hours and I wouldn’t bore of hearing him.

Over on Sky Arts 1 Trelawney’s cohort GMTV presenter Penny Smith ferreted around backstage talking to a petrified looking and rather subdued Alfie Boe, coercing interesting titbits about the trials and tribulations of life on an opera production.

I felt comfortable in the company of both her and Mr Trelawney and, surprisingly, didn’t feel as though seeing backstage was shattering the fantasy being created on stage.

To talk about the performance would overlook the importance of this evening. The broadcast was about demonstrating the possibilities of transmitting perceived high-brow entertainment to the masses. For someone who possesses a pompously critical eye for such things, this evening’s performance and broadcast was executed effortlessly. Would it persuade me to book a ticket to the opera? Yes, if it was the chance to see Miller’s production of La Boheme at the Coliseum.

Some might argue that the performers could sing anything, in any key with only scant attention to rhythm and intonation and it still would have been a special occasion.

As a relative newcomer to large scale opera I found myself marvelling at a stylish set and costume design and transfixed by soloists who looked good, sounded brilliant and acted utterly convincing. They held up well on HDTV.

Sweet.

Someone else who hates Twitter

I always hesitate before posting a YouTube video (which isn’t my own – yes, really). I usually look at the statistics and figure that most people who may occasionally read this may well have already seen the clip.

If you haven’t, this is the kind of 45 second clip which leaves me breathless. It does exactly what was intended. Short, punchy, funny and takes me on a journey to discover more of the content which sits on the channel. It makes gadgetry even more accessible. It might even give Suzy Perry a run for her money at The Gadget Show.

Clearly, I have a lot to learn.

This has its own front door …

Must have property?, originally uploaded by Thoroughly Good.

… and frankly, it could be absolutely anywhere.

This Woolwich property advertised in local estate agent La Casa is going for a mere £1195 per calendar and features its very own entrance door.

A bargain. Apparently.

One big snowy day

Sadly, WordPress’ handy “here’s how to embed high quality YouTube video” doesn’t actually work. So be sure to click on the “HQ” button on the bottom right hand corner of the video player once you’ve kicked off watching the film.

Individuality or popularity?

Individuality or popularity?, originally uploaded by Thoroughly Good.

I regularly read the horoscopes in the London Paper. I know. Aren’t I a fool ? They’re just bollocks aren’t they? Why do you want to go and read them ?

Like the crossword (or if I’m really pushed, the sudoku) the horoscopes are a bit of a ritual for me. During the summer they adequately summed up my days with scary levels of accuracy. There was a strange moment of reassurance to be experienced moments before the train pulled out of White City tube. You wouldn’t think there’d be pleasure derived from reading a summary of a bad day, but there was. I’m still not entirely certain why that would be the case.   

Friday’s publication was a bit of a corker. It seemed to provide a serious heads up of how things might turn out this weekend what with that Eurovision stuff going on.

Naturally, I was thinking it was going to be someone else winning the crown and not Jade, hence why I thought the horoscope would be a useful piece of advice to hang on to.

What I hadn’t expected was to end up ranking individuality over popularity when I realised that not many other people could necessarily give as big a shit about it as I do.

Do I care? No. Not in any way. Statistics mean nothing. What’s important is that deep-seated sense of smug self-satisfaction guaranteed when immersing yourself in a subject (or subjects) you know only too well only appeals to one member of the audience. Oneself.

I choose individuality every time. It guarantees happiness.

Diary: Your Country Needs You #12

The morning after Jade won Eurovision: Your Country Needs You and took up the considerable mantle of representing the UK at this year’s Eurovision, I run over a few checks to make sure everything is in place.