Play It Again

My Top 10 Tunes of 2013...

It came to my attention that I haven't done a post about music on this thing yet, so I thought what better way to end the year than sharing a few of my favourite songs from the last 12 months? I'm not necessarily saying these are the finest pieces of the year; any musical list is of course completely subjective, and if you asked me again tomorrow I'd probably give you a different ten. I haven't, for instance, featured anything from the soundtrack of Dave Grohl's rather wonderful Sound City documentary, which as a collection is great fun, and while not having a great deal of originality has the fresh sound of musicians just having a great time, which ultimately should be the reason any of us play. Go out and buy it as soon as you can.

So these are simply the first ten that came to mind from 2013 releases that have done some time on repeat play on my music facilities. In no particular order...

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club – Sell It

As I say to anyone who will listen (or just can't get out of my way quick enough), they are they only band since the millennium that I have felt truly passionate about. After a rather indifferent album last time out, they returned this year with Specter At The Feast: their best record for quite some time, which also gave me my blogging name. Any number of the tracks could have made this list, but I'm going for Sell It for its return to the question we used to ask of BRMC: how can three people make such a huge sound?! 

Wave Machines – I Hold Loneliness

One of the many bands I've discovered in the last year or two through BBC 6 Music, this lot from Liverpool released their second album back last January. Given their release schedule so far we may have to wait several years for the next, which is a shame. This track was actually released as a single in late 2012, but as the album didn't come out until this year I reckon I can include it. There's a great acoustic version of this one out there too which is well worth looking up.

 Pixies – Another Toe In The Ocean

Now here's a band on the list of those of fairly legendary status who somehow have never really come onto my radar. However, this song really grabbed my attention and might be the one that finally gives me the boot up the backside to check them out properly.

Gaz Coombes – Buffalo

Nice solo outing from the youngest old vetran of indie. Hopefully more to come soon.

Laura Mvula – Green Garden

Irritatingly catchy; there's always a place for some ooh aahs in pop music. Clearly I'm not the only one who thinks this as she's picked up a few gongs on the awards circuit this year.

Transfer – Still Bad Blood

One of my favourite discoveries of the year, these San Diegans were over in Europe as tour support for BRMC. It's pretty simple, no-nonsense stuff, but sometimes there's no substitute for decent, honest songs. This was the lead track off the EP they made to sell on the tour, and they have a new album just out in the States, but no distribution over here yet. Hopefully won't be long...

Arctic Monkeys – Do I Wanna Know?

Another band like Pixies who I've never got into before, my general opinion of them having progressed over the last eight years from "irritating" to "meh", but now finally "oh wow, they can actually play!" I guess with age comes a little more class, and this one is a belter, all moody chops and sarky vocals. R U Mine? might be slightly superior, but this was the one that first turned my head this year. Still not going to buy the old stuff, mind. 
    

Primal Scream – Nothing Is Real / Nothing Is Unreal

Again, they're old, but they're still making some great music. Like BRMC, their 2013 offering More Light was a distinct improvement on other stuff they've released in recent years, something of a return to form. I love the dreaminess of this. Arms in the air, everyone...

Disclosure (featuring London Grammar) – Help Me Lose My Mind

Having listened through to most of it, in the end I didn't buy their much-talked-about album Settle; there just wasn't quite enough that did it for me, some of it in fact being quite irritating. But this is a great single, and will indeed help you lose your mind by getting in there and never leaving.   

Daft Punk (featuring Pharrell Williams) – Get Lucky

Last but not least, the mother of all singles. Whatever you think of the album (it wasn't great, let's be honest: far more filler than killer) and of the unashamed cheesiness of this single, Get Lucky is pretty much the perfect pop song, and you simply cannot suppress at least something of a smile when you hear it. Don't be grumpy, just dance, I dare you...

The only slightly disappointing thing about this list is the lack of new artists. But I'm discovering some good new things out there, and the old guys are still doing the business, so all is well in the world. Class of 2014: let's see what you've got.

Stand up

On the role of sport in political arguments...

In little more than six weeks, the Winter Olympic Games will begin in Sochi, Russia. The build-up has been dominated by concerns the event could be used as a platform by campaigners against the country’s ban on “propaganda of non-traditional sexual relations”, which many claim effectively bans the promotion of civil rights for any non-heterosexual people. This local law along with the International Olympic Committee’s (IOC) tough stance on political proclamations make it unlikely that any athlete will risk taking a stand on this or any other issue during the Games. Doing so would put them at risk of sporting sanction at best, hard time in Russian clink at worst. 

However, there is a campaign, Principle 6, which aims to highlight concern without violating these laws. Based on the Olympic Charter’s anti-discrimination code, a range of branded clothing has been produced intended to raise both funds and awareness (though you imagine any athletes daring to wear the gear in Russia will fall foul of some rule regarding non-regulation clothing). Will it provoke the Russian government into changing their laws? Unlikely. But it will make a valuable point and shine an uncomfortable spotlight on an IOC unwilling to rock any lucre-laden boats in a tournament year.

Should sport take a stand in situations like this, or is banning all political comment and carrying on regardless the correct way? As an obsessive sports fan, I hate the politicisation of sport in any way. What happens on the field should be all that counts. But as a person who the Russian government would probably describe as being of “non-traditional” sexual orientation it saddens me to see any endorsement, tacit or otherwise, of discriminatory regimes. 

Thus far, other than a few concerns being half-raised, the only government seeming to be making a point against Russia is Barack Obama’s American administration, which appears to have deliberately selected several LGBT people to form its delegation to the opening ceremony. The President himself will remain at home. To me this is the right way forward: if sport won’t or cannot take a moral or political stance, politicians should show the way with decisions like this. It’s probably their job, after all. 

Next summer, the football World Cup will take place in Brazil, another country with a dubious record on protecting its LGBT community (highlighted distressingly by Stephen Fry in his recent outstanding BBC documentary), followed in four years by Russia, then Qatar where homosexual activity between males is currently illegal. There hasn’t been much talk of protest or boycott of these events, possibly because of the lack of openly non-heterosexual footballers. We only have the USA winger Robbie Rogers, who famously retired, came out and came back earlier this year. Robbie in fact was the catalyst for this piece, as he’s been doing the rounds of UK media this week (including a Newsnight appearance in which that absurd caricature Jeremy Paxman once again distinguished himself with a skin-crawlingly cringey question about being naked in the locker room) promoting the launch of the anti-discrimination initiative Beyond “It” in this country. 

We keep hearing that there are a number of gay players in the English Premier League, but to me the encouragement for them to come out seems more the desire of the media to obtain a juicy scoop than to actually promote diversity and inclusiveness. Football is an unforgivingly “straight” and masculine world ­– a recent news story told of a Scottish referee allegedly kicked out of his association for complaining about lack of support after receiving homophobic abuse – and I can say from personal experience that the amount of time I spent around that environment was a definite factor in keeping my own status hidden for a long time. If football is unable to keep homophobia out of its own house, it seems unlikely the game will do anything to challenge the discriminatory laws of nations, even though it could. Imagine the uproar in Russia if they lost the 2018 World Cup.

Rugby too has its gay stars: the former Welsh international Gareth Thomas, and one of the world’s top referees, Nigel Owens. It’s a sport that supposedly draws a more educated crowd, but I remember squirming in my Murrayfield seat, feeling quite upset at the quantity of puerile and fairly offensive comments being uttered by my fellow Edinburgh fans when Thomas and his Cardiff Blues side came to play a few weeks after his big revelation. Rugby is now an Olympic sport. Should Owens refuse to officiate in Rio or Russia if asked? 

Cricket is another major sport with just one high-profile gay athlete, the Surrey and England wicketkeeper Steve Davies. One of cricket’s biggest markets is India, where the Supreme Court has just recriminalised homosexuality. Their Indian Premier League (IPL) tournament may be fairly ridiculous to most traditional cricket fans, but there’s no denying that its bells and whistles are heard around the world and are worth serious rupees. Will any player turn down a mega-bucks contract in protest at this ruling? 

Some might argue that boycotts and taking tournaments away on political grounds is not the right way to go, and that participation can be used to highlight such issues. This relies on the participants actually being able to make their voices heard, and I don’t believe athletes should risk their career to make political statements. For me, a boycott is preferable to any action which disrupts an honest sporting contest. But if the contest is thus devalued by the absence of star athletes, then we have to question whether the event should have been sanctioned in the first place. 

As with many issues in sport, the problems are traceable back to the governing bodies. The likes of the IOC and FIFA seem to award hosting rights paying more heed to commercial concerns than moral ones. Until they are made to change their mentality, athletes and all others involved in sport will continue to be caught in political crossfire, left with difficult choices to make. In the meantime, those of us lucky to live in relatively liberal and tolerant countries can at least try to help by lobbying and supporting initiatives such as Beyond “It” and Athlete Ally. I think I may have found my New Year’s Resolution.

Loose Lips

On war reporting and social media...

Earlier this week, I got into what we can politely describe as a discussion on Twitter with Channel 4 News’ Chief Correspondent, Alex Thomson. I must start by saying that I have enormous respect for Thomson; he is one of the finest TV journalists around, being dogged in his pursuit of stories, careful and compassionate where needed, but also putting himself into places and situations where many others wouldn’t. Right now is one of those times: he is currently on the ground reporting on the sectarian violence and subsequent French military intervention in the Central African Republic. Our discussion was concluded amicably, but my wider concerns on the topic remain.

Live blogging and Twitter in particular have in recent times become significant elements in reporting on current affairs, and their application in situations of war and civil unrest is especially interesting, not to say worrying. The discussion I had with Alex Thomson arose from him posting tweets about French military activity before it had happened. My contention is that this practice could be dangerous, not to say irresponsible, potentially giving a “tip off” to factions involved in conflicts and lead to further unnecessary death and injury. In this particular instance, Thomson confirmed that he was only reporting information published by the French military themselves so no issues of wrongfully revealing intelligence, but I feel that remains a risk in the immediate, unedited world of social media.

A conspiracy theorist might speculate that the French military may have deliberately released information to cause unrest. There is certainly precedent for this. In 2012 the Israel Defense Forces live blogged military action in Gaza, posting pictures of “eliminated” Hamas leaders in video game style, and giving followers awards for sharing the stories. This appears to be a particularly hideous use of social media, turning real life death and destruction into a voyeuristic gaming-style experience, decried succinctly at the time by Daniel Flitton in the Sydney Morning Herald. Action like this surely serves nobody, merely inflaming the situation, inciting retaliation and escalation. Perhaps that was partly their aim.

Earlier this year in the Philippines, the battle between the military and a group of Muslim separatists was fought as much on Twitter as it was in the street. Back in 2011, the NATO commander in Libya apparently announced the end of the military intervention via Facebook. It could be argued that the social network is a good a place as any to make such an announcement, but among embarrassing drunken photos and Candy Crush Saga it seems a little out-of-place to say the least.

The media have had to adapt to this new world in order to keep pace and indeed relevance with the bloggers. Reporters use microblogging both to research and communicate news, and Daniel Bennett has written an excellent paper on this, A Twitter Revolution in Breaking News. It’s Bennett’s contention that most serious journalists will still rely on traditional methods, but no doubt see Twitter as a highly useful tool. But the live blogging of war is still something that makes me extremely uncomfortable. Clearly it’s important to report news as close to breaking point as possible; “current affairs” – the clue’s in the name.

But the scope for abuse of these facilities is enormous. Counter intelligence and false information can be spread, in the worst cases this could lead to serious consequences (we all saw the role social media played in the uprisings across north Africa, dubbed by many as a “Twitter Revolution”). The media you would say have some role in keeping a lid on these things, making sure that only the relevant verified facts are promoted and reported. Sometimes though it feels as though the sheer level of coverage and immediacy of reporting is getting saturating, verging on the unmanageable. How long before one of the more overzealous news agencies takes that final step into The Day Today territory and see life truly imitating art?

Cricket Appeal

On the charm of cricket...

I am writing this in the aftermath of another monstrous England defeat down under, inept batting being blown away by some old school hostile Australian bowling. I am, like all other England supporters feeling disappointed, disillusioned and angry at the current performance. The warning signs were there in the summer, but few would have predicted just how horrendously this series would have started. But despite it all, I am genuinely looking forward to the the next game. Why? Because as the famous 10CC song goes, I don’t like cricket, I love it. 

Those who know me know all too well my trainspotter-like knowledge and passion for sport. Most would probably in the first instance identify me as the football guy. More recent acquaintances (and some older) will also be aware of my comparatively recent infatuation with rugby union. But while my level of obsession and engagement with those sports requiring larger balls (so to speak) has fluctuated over the years, one love has remained constant – cricket. I can’t pinpoint when the affair started, though I do have a vague memory of England v West Indies tests on TV (most likely the 1988 tour) where most of the game seemed to be spent waiting for the Windies bowlers to get to the end of their unfeasibly long run-ups. And England being crap, obviously. 

However, it was the summer of 1992 when the relationship was consummated as I attended my first game. A family friend and unusual candidate for a cricket fan, the American illustrator Linda Combi had given me for a birthday a membership for Yorkshire’s young supporters’ club, the Junior Tykes. My first match was a Sunday League game at Scarborough against Warwickshire, which we won thanks in the main to a century from wicketkeeper Richard Blakey (who as a result immediately became my favourite player) and according to the scorecard some tight bowling from a young Darren Gough. I’d forgotten the latter detail but distinctly remember that the main draw, a certain Sachin Tendulkar, only made 15 (just four less than his age at the time). I was absolutely rapt, loved every minute of it. The same probably cannot be said of my sister and friends who had been brought along for company, who all clearly would rather have spent the day on the nearby beach. In fact my ever-intuitive mother did take the others down there at one point, leaving me to enjoy the game in peace for a while. 

I immediately recognised that I had found something quite special; even at the age of 12 I loved the experience of watching cricket live as something captivating that you could completely immerse and lose yourself in. The rhythm of the day, the steady progression of the match, it all felt somehow timeless. I also realised at such a young age that as such it was something that could be very much enjoyed as a solitary experience. 

Of course it’s fun going to the cricket with friends too, but back then in particular I rather struggled. I simply wanted to absorb the game, while the other kids with shorter (or rather more normal) attention spans and less fascination with the game itself simply wanted to play with a bat and ball round the back of the stands and collect autographs from the boundary fielders. I also remember the adolescent resentment at being dragged away by my adult chaperones before the end of the day’s play to catch earlier trains, not wanting to miss a single ball even if the result was already almost certain. Thankfully things changed within just a short few years. Quite early on I endured the cricketing rite of passage of going to a game that thanks to the weather was abandoned without a ball being bowled. I grew to appreciate that hanging around station platforms for hours extra for the sake of a couple inconsequential overs didn’t have a lot of sense, and my kind and sympathetic mother trusted me enough to allow me to go to games unaccompanied at an age when many mothers wouldn’t have. I don’t think I ever abused that trust, although I do recall at around 16 having an illicitly procured pint of Tetley’s in my hand when I spotted my school headmaster and having to take evasive action behind a portakabin.

I think I can probably also put my enduring passion for the game down to the fact that my formative years as a cricket appreciator were the 1990s, a particularly depressing time for both Yorkshire and England. My first day of international cricket saw the England batting line-up go right round following on en route to a crushing innings defeat to Allan Border’s merciless Australians at Headingley in 1993, and things didn’t improve much over the following years. Generally Yorkshire were equally inept, the decade appropriately closing with a feeble defeat in the 1999 B&H Cup final against Gloucestershire at Lords: one long and depressing day flying solo when for once I really pined for some company to share in the misery. If you can come through all that and still be in love with something, it's likely it'll be with you for life.

This all changed in the new millennium though. England started winning – I gave my university housemates a rare old fright with my screams and shouts as I literally ran round the house when they became the first team ever to beat Pakistan in a test in Karachi. Then in 2001 I was there on the pitch at Scarborough celebrating equally wildly with friends as Yorkshire won their first County Championship since the 60s. Finally my ample enjoyment of the game in general was being complemented by serious success for my teams. On the international stage this came to a stunning head when England finally defeated Australia to take the Ashes for the first time since I began following the sport. Not only that, they continued to defeat them. I think these series wins make the current impending defeat a lot easier to take, because there was a point in the past when I never thought I would get to see success in my lifetime! For various reasons I didn’t actually witness firsthand any of the 2005 or 2009 series, so that made it even more special for me to be present on that rainy day at Old Trafford this August when England retained the Ashes. Twenty years of personal pain were erased in a few chilly but glorious hours, topped off by ruining every press photographer’s shot and appearing in every newspaper in the land in the process of obtaining this most satisfying of selfies:

 

So, cricket. It has brought me so many unforgettable moments: watching Merv Hughes bowling to a young kid during the tea break of a tour match at Durham (which turned out to be the final first class game of Ian Botham’s career); Yorkshire skittling the old enemy from the dark side of the hills for just 76 in one of the first day-night games at Headingley; a whole ground falling totally and utterly silent with a collective intake of breath as Darren Gough ran in to bowl the final ball of a limited overs game with Glamorgan needing just 2 runs to win, and that silence being broken by sound of the stumps exploding with the impact of his devastating Yorker; seeing Curtley Ambrose take his 400^th Test wicket; Otis Gibson scoring a 69-ball century for West Indies in a tour match at Taunton, including despatching at least four balls into the river behind the stands at one end.

For every one of these great memories there are of course an equal quantity of frustrations and disappointments, but I will keep going back. Watching cricket can fulfil almost any purpose: it can be something to while away a lazy day; it can be something to keep you hanging off the edge of your seat with nerve-shredding tension; it can joyfully bamboozle with its beguiling arcane terminology and blizzard of statistics. The drama can unfold slowly like an epic work of theatre, or you can witness wild plot twists; a game lasting five days which turns on just a few minutes of action. Then there are the characters – the legendary players of course, the oddly even more legendary radio commentators, and if you go watching county cricket in particular the curious folk who spend their summers at the boundary edge. I will never really enjoy the alcohol-soaked anarchy that seems to be the way that many choose to watch a day of Test cricket, though I admit I have had a couple of good ones in the past. But there are so many other live cricket experiences to be had, from a quiet county match to a manic Twenty20 slog fest; I really believe there is an experience for everybody. It is the most wonderful and engaging of sports, and I would defy anyone to not find at least something to enjoy on the lush green ovals and the curious little worlds that surround them.