Sophia wants me to tell you that she doesn’t like brown bread.
Who’s Sophia?
She sits next to me at lunch and she says she really, really doesn’t like brown bread.
But you’re not giving your sandwiches to Sophia, are you?
No, but she really, really can’t stand the sight of them. So can you stop using brown bread please?
No.
The club has had a long summer hiatus. It’s been too hot, and time has been difficult to find. August was my lowest mileage month in a long time, and my legs have been getting more stiff and sore as the weeks went on. We spent the last two weeks of the holidays in France, where the running routes are either spooky woods or busy roads, except for the closed-off road that goes past Pete’s mum’s house. This is uphill for half a mile, back down to the road, and repeat. The elevation chart on RunKeeper looks like boobs. I managed that twice and then compensated by swimming many, many lengths of their ten metre pool instead.
School’s back, and my two-year runniversary was on Sunday. I didn’t go for a run. On Monday morning I dragged my feet for a mile before my legs gave in entirely and I walked home feeling very sorry for myself. For a few weeks now I’ve found that if I run in my A shoes (240 miles), I get pulling pains in my left leg for hours afterwards. Not so much with my older B shoes (unknown mileage, but a lot, including a lot of walking), so I’ve been using them but feeling uncomfortable. Meet the new A shoes:
How has your summer been?
I was asked recently if I’ve abandoned this project. No, of course not! Though I can see why you might think that, given that it’s taken me a good few months to get round to this review. Shall we?
The album opens with It’s No Game (Part One), the most immediately striking thing about this song being the oddly random wittering Japanese lady. I do very much like the song that’s underneath though, it has a very solid, persistent rhythm, and harmonically and melodically it all holds together very well. Not entirely sure about the vocals, it’s one of those instances where Bowie chooses to scream rather than sing, which never sits 100% right on me. The song is reprised at the end of the album, so we shall return.
Next up is Up The Hill Backwards, for which the lead vocals have been entirely dispensed with, leaving the result that the song seems to be being sung by a distant chorus. I was greatly surprised by this the first time I heard it, I don’t think I’ve heard this technique being used before! As far as the song itself is concerned, I’m not overly enamoured. I wonder if the gimmickiness of the vocals makes it hard for me to hear anything else.
And then we come to the title track, which is a real grower, and magnificently quintessentially 80s. Gated drums, weird industrial noises throughout, and a peculiar and slightly unsettling treatment to the vocals. It’s got another one of those avant-garde guitar solos that Bowie goes in for, the ones that sound like there’s a kitten playing on the fretboard. Suits the context, I suppose.
And then one of Bowie’s greatest songs of all time, Ashes To Ashes which I am sure you are familiar with. I love the mature, delicate instrumentation in this song, the vocals delivered with just the right balance of passion and technicality, and the layers upon layers of lyrical quality.
You’re probably also familiar with Fashion, with its prominent drums and bass line, the crunchy guitars, the “beep beep”, and the general feeling of roboticity. Do I like the song? I’m fairly ambivalent, I must admit. It’s not without its appeal.
I do, however, really like Teenage Wildlife. Given that Bowie had supposedly long since left his glam rock period behind, this song is a fine example of the genre, with delicious croonious vocallage. My one complaint is that it rises to the most perfect, spectacular climax at about 3 minutes and this would have been a great place to finish the song, yet it goes on for another 4 minutes. It actually goes around in circles, hitting a second climax at 5:30 which is pretty much a replica of the first. Great lead guitar on this song though, it soars beautifully and suits the song well.
Scream Like A Baby is probably the song on this album that I am most likely to skip. It doesn’t get off to an awful start, but as soon as the first chorus hits, it doesn’t take long for it to start grating on me. For some reason, this particular lyric combined with Bowie’s vibrato just rubs me up the wrong way. I can’t wait for it to be over. There’s also an utterly unnecessary bridge where the vocal is doubled, and one of them speeds up while the other slows down, and it just seems pretentious and self-regarding. And once you’ve recovered from that, a really inappropriate keychange that doesn’t help in the slightest.
Speaking of vibrato, Bowie really overdoes it on Kingdom Come, yet for some reason I don’t find myself hating it as much as I should. Still, I do find myself wondering, while listening to this album, whether maybe Bowie should have spent a bit less time trying to sound like someone else. The song itself is fairly dull, but it’s actually a cover of a song by Tom Verlaine, of whom I’ve never been a big fan.
Now, Because You’re Young has an utterly amazing intro that sounds like something by Magazine or some other post-punk great. There’s a guitar riff and a shimmery wibbly synth that just bounce between themselves majestically, and a brilliant funky bassline. The rest of the song also has plenty of great moments, but it’s just generally not quite as stellar as that introduction. The transition into the chorus is very peculiar, it sounds like the drummer doesn’t know what he’s doing, and just panics briefly and plays nothing. Interestingly, Pete Townshend plays guitar on this song. For what it’s worth.
And finally, It’s No Game (Part Two). Basically the same song as opened the album, but without crazy Japanese lady, and the whole song is delivered in a much more restrained fashion, both vocally and instrumentally. One comparison that I can’t help noticing is how Bowie’s vocals, combined with the beautiful backing vocals in the chorus, really reminds me of Rufus Wainwright when he was at his peak. I can’t help feeling that the vocal delivery in (Part One) suits the lyrics better, but this more controlled version just seems to sit on me much smoothlier.
Hits from this album: Ashes To Ashes and Fashion are both very well-known songs.
My favourite song from this album: While I love Ashes To Ashes, I feel it behooves me to give attention to the great album tracks, so Teenage Wildlife steals it.
Next up: Let’s Dance.
There’s a mellow stillness in Jardin Uborka this evening, broken only by the lazy chatter of our guests who are mainly rocking in hammocks or reclining on steamer chairs. Ubotka has had caterpillar treads fitted to hus wheels to enable smooth delivery of drinks and snacks across the neat lawn.
In the hammock district, Pix and Pocks are both snoring softly, as wasps investigate their unfinished drinks.
Mr and Ms Gammidgy are gazing into each other’s eyes over a tanker of cider, for we have provided a creche with a soundproofed bouncy castle, and appointed poor Asta to watch over it as well as mixing up her complicated cocktails and showing the photographs from a thousand summer weddings to anyone she happens to catch.
Our Pete has been indulging in much Radio Warwick nostalgia lately, so it’s nice that Stuart has turned up for a pint. Nice for me, that is.
And Graybo, dear naked Graybo, has had a rotten week. But that doesn’t excuse his utter lack of manners, so I am withholding his g&t until he puts a tie on. Not on that. Oh really.
But what is that? A grey cloud scudding purposefully across the china blue sky? Meh, it’s just a shower, we’re British, it will pass in a few minutes. Someone had better get asta an umbrella, though.
Have a warm weekend.
Welcome back! It’s the start of term, but I think we do too many parenthood themes; and nudity never goes down well either. I’ve got a post-run migraine at the moment (the aura has gone, just the headache stage now), but headache themed cocktails seems a bit grim. The sun has come out, let’s just celebrate an Indian Summer in the garden. I’ll be back with part two later, if we get some orders…
Our kitchen is at the front of the house. The window is partly screened by ivy, and it’s a cul de sac so there aren’t many passing pedestrians. Really the only time this presents any sort of a problem is when I come in for a run, dash upstairs to the bathroom, strip all my kit off, and then really need a drink. So I hobble back downstairs all naked and running with sweat to get a pint of water at the kitchen sink, which is by the front window. I worry that the postman will choose that moment to put in an appearance; I find him annoying enough as it is. I should be allowed to stand naked in my own kitchen, though, really.
My feelings about this whole referendum thing are purely that: feelings. Since I have no actual dog in this fight, my brain has not retained much in the way of economic arguments for or against Scottish Independence. I started off feeling vaguely that that would be a shame, and then over time I realised that if I had the option of seceding from the UK government, I’d be off like a shot. The strangest part of the whole business, as far as I can tell, is how desperately pathetic the three party leaders appear, especially on today’s dash to Scotland to plead for the union. It looks suspiciously as though they are deliberately trying to lose it.
There’s a prize for the person who identifies the source of today’s post title.
I didn’t read as much this year as last, perhaps because the MIL’s house in France now features a very pleasant swimming pool. What I did read was largely mystical, magical or historical in nature:
The Book of Life – Deborah Harkness
I have been waiting for this third book in the All Souls Trilogy and was very happy to see it come out a few weeks ago, just in time for my holiday. This is certainly light reading, some might call it trashy. It falls somewhere on the spectrum between True Blood and Twilight, although it consciously disassociates itself from the Stephenie Meyer comparison when the undead hero informs a class of PhD students that “I do not, nor have I ever, sparkled.”
This is your usual cliched vampire-as-troubled-soul, but his consort the witch is far more feisty and feminist than the drippy Bella Swan, and could quite probably kick Sookie Stackhouse’s fairy arse.
The historical context is interesting, particularly in book two of the series, even though we all know that time travellers to medieval England would almost certainly succumb to plague or something within days of arrival. I enjoyed this trilogy, the characters are fun and the plot moves quickly; I don’t need no stinkin’ literature.
The Night Circus – Erin Morgenstern
The premise of this novel is a magical competition, which reminded me very much of the 2006 film The Prestige. It took a few chapters for it to get off the ground, but gradually became more entertaining and intriguing. I am sure there is some device in the construction of the book that echoes the rings of the circus, but I was reading this alongside a regular supply of local wine and may not have caught all the nuances. I particularly enjoyed the charmingly vintage concept of a group of fans keeping in touch all over the world, 100 years before the internet existed; but I was disappointed by the ending, which did not seem as neat as the rest of the novel.
The Amber Fury – Natalie Haynes
I heard Natalie Haynes talking about her book on the Little Atoms podcast, and it sounded like a great idea: teenagers, grief and the Classics all bundled into one novel set in a rainy Edinburgh. Disappointingly, I found that it was not all that well-written; the grief was never quite convincing, and the teenage diary was all too authentic, with a gratingly childlike tone. While the book does successfully showcase the Greek tragedies, the setting is contrived and artificial and the plot is completely predictable. I waited and waited for a twist that never came, and began to feel annoyed by the way the highbrow themes were painstakingly spelt out lest we miss a reference: “You do something bad and then you have to pay. Like Orestes and Elektra in your plays,” writes an angsty teen. Even the bookgroup questions at the back were fairly patronising, but we all know that bookgroups are about the booze, not the books.
The Drowning Guard – Linda Lafferty
I have no recollection of where I heard of this book or why I bought it, but it was one of the best novels of my summer. Ivan Postivich is a slave in the sultan’s army, who drowns the lovers of the sultan’s sister after she has taken her pleasure. He listens to her stories and their relationship develops as the fragile peace of Constantinople crumbles. I do enjoy fictionalised history, but wish this had ended with the escape and not tried to tidy things up afterwards.
This was mentioned by Lisa Turquoise, though she adamantly did not recommend that I read it. I ignored her, of course. In this book, the heroine Jo regresses under hypnosis to a previous incarnation, and it turns out that all her friends were in love with her 800 years earlier. Her previous persona (a real historical figure) was a feminist of her time who offended Good King John enough to have him condemn her to a horrific death. In the modern parts of the novel, the evil older brother of her boyfriend goes around planting post-hypnotic suggestions that never quite come off. Some people live and some people die. It ends and then in a little reincarnation of its own, there is an epilogue set 25 years later. Interesting read.