Music

DJ Delingpole

My Spectator comrade James Delingpole has many talents. Among them is his skill as a podcast-presenter for an American conservative website called ‘Ricochet’.  Yesterday he asked me to join him for his latest, deeply irregular, instalment of ‘Radio Free Delingpole’. It was without question the most anarchic 40 minutes I have ever spent on air and  I should never have done it were it not for my love of James and the vast fee he unwisely promised. We covered a fair amount of ground, including the US elections and House of Lords reform, but mention of the Rolling Stones brought the programme to a climax with a row — instigated

Paul Simon and the shrill left

The opinion on Paul Simon’s famous Graceland album seems finally to have swung 180 degrees from where it once was. Simon recorded the music — which has just bee re-released — with black African performers (mostly) in South Africa in 1986 and was of course castigated by the authoritarian left for ‘breaking’ the cultural boycott against the apartheid state. I mean, really castigated; placed in the same rrrraaaaaccccissssst category as those cricketers who played games against South Africa’s white-only cricket team. Now, however, it seems to be accepted that it was a wise and even liberating decision from the singer, and has done much to bring African music to a

The alternative Olympic song book

The song list drawn up for the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games is a disgrace. Surely everybody knows that by now, but then what can you expect when the selection is made by a pair of disc jockeys? There is nothing that reflects our nation’s love affair with the sea, no acknowledgement of our bawdy humour, no hymn or carol, no G and S, and the brass band appears somewhat bathetically only in the theme tune to Coronation Street. You could pop into any snug bar in the kingdom, and find a pair of sozzled old topers who could run up a better list. The obsession with pop music

The Jubilee concert: 8/10 for cheering the nation up

‘Ten years ago, if you’d been asked what Gary Barlow would be running now, you’d have said a Little Chef off the A32.’ This, from Lee Mack, was one of the best gags of the night, which isn’t saying much. The music outstripped the comedy but Mack raises an important question: did Barlow get it right? This was his show and the mission was to pitch the concert at a mass audience of all ages and make it a global entertainment spectacular. From my seat (I was lucky enough to get one, a few rows down from Ed Miliband) I’d give Barlow an eight. And here, for what it’s worth,

Sadly, protest music is alive and well

There is plenty of nostalgia around in this Jubilee Weekend. Any look back on 60 years brings temptation to think that the past was better than the present. This is what Woody Allen calls ‘golden age’ fallacy, which is defined (in his Midnight in Paris) as an age-old and ‘erroneous notion that a previous time period is better than the one one’s living in.’ This disorder was on show during BBC 2’s Review Show last night, where guests were bemoaning the death of protest music.   The panel (dominated by Kirsty Wark and music critic Paul Morley) were discussing BBC 4’s 3 part documentary, Punk Britannia. The first part of

Let’s show Eurovision some respect

There are calls for Britain to pull out of the Eurovision Song Contest, after Engelbert Humperdinck finished second-last on Saturday, with Norway bottom. The Mayor of Leicester has today denounced Eurovision, saying: ‘The politics of Europe — which countries are friendly with which others — has a lot more to do with it than the quality of the songs.’ I agree: politics are involved and it is outrageous. Had George Osborne not given Ireland that £3.2 billion loan we would not have had its four points and Britain would be where it deserved: at the very bottom. We were dismal, and in the eyes of half a billion people. But

Boogie aahhhnnnn

There was a sort of interesting documentary on BBC4 last night about a genre of popular music called ‘Southern Rock’ — ie what we, back in the 1970s, called Southern Boogie — Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Allman Bros, Charlie Daniels, and so on. It was interesting for mainly two reasons. First it reminded me of how truly, staggeringly, awful most of the music was — perhaps as much as 98 per cent of it. I am a catholic sorta guy when it comes to music, open to any genre, by and large. But this stuff, with its endless, interminable, identical guitar solos over the same three chugging chords and vacuous lyrics

From the archives: Brown, the opera

Perfect for Friday evening is this: the Gordon Brown-themed version of Ko-Ko’s ‘little list’ from The Mikado that Jeff Randall wrote for us back in 2007. The chorus should be sung, according to Jeff, by three people who have been quite prominent this week: Ed Miliband, Ed Balls and Yvette Cooper… The clunking fist, Jeff Randall, The Spectator, 3 March 2007 Britain doesn’t do Lord High Executioners, but if it did, Gordon Brown would probably be the best in the world. The prospect of the Chancellor in this role occurred to me while listening again to Gilbert & Sullivan’s masterful satire, The Mikado. Ko-Ko makes his entrance with ‘a little

European integration that we can get behind

Part of the magic of the New Year’s Day concert from the Vienna Philharmonic is knowing that millions are watching the same event live, right throughout Europe. It’s perhaps the only cultural event that unites the continent in this way (other than Eurovision). Politically and economically, not very much binds us together, as the tensions within the European Union demonstrate. The continent is a model of diversity, which is why homogenisation attempts fail. But when it comes to culture, it’s a different story altogether — with classical music being, perhaps, one of the strongest unifying factors. Turn up to a concert hall in Edinburgh, Leeds or Athens to listen to

In New York, the whole world remembers

New York There’s an eerie mood in New York right now, as the city prepares to commemorate the tenth anniversary of the September 11 attacks. Al-Qaeda, or what’s left of it, likes anniversaries. The police have been on overdrive ever since a “credible” tip-off about an attempted truck bomb. Officers are everywhere. Armed guards patrol landmarks and cars from bridges and tunnels are being pulled over and checked. All this reinforces the sense of something alien to New Yorkers (and almost all Americans) until ten years ago: the threat of attack. A common threat has solicited a rather wonderful common response. Shop windows have displays of commemoration; companies take adverts

Alex Massie

Chris de Burgh is an Angry, Misunderstood, Man. Apparently.

From the Department of Criticism: the Irish Times handed my old Dublin University Players contemporary Peter Crawley the unenviable task of reviewing Chris de Burgh in concert. It’s fair to say that his notice was less than generous… Certain toes will never uncurl after this experience, but it is almost admirable how unaltered de Burgh has remained by the flow of time. You may have grown out of seeking epic significance in the portentous verses of Spanish Train, you may greet Patricia the Stripper with the same mortification as a faded photo of yourself. This is because you’ve changed. Chris de Burgh has not. Not one to take this sort

The riots, one month on

A month has passed since the riots, and it still feels as if nobody has grasped what really happened. The media debate has been limited, to say the least: lots of self-appointed community leaders and youth experts talking about giving kids a “voice” or “stake” in society, or calling the likes of David Starkey racist. The BBC “riots debate” last night, featuring Dame Claire Tickell, Liam Nolan, Shaun Bailey and former gang member Sheldon Thomas was particularly frustrating. Every time somebody came close to making a good point – Bailey, for instance, issued strong remarks about the commercialisation and sexualisation of children – someone else would drown it in bien-pensant

Bring on the warmth

Cold weather demands warm music. To which end I am delighted that Mojo, the monthly rock magazine for the more gnarled music fan, has chosen as its album of the year Queen of Denmark by John Grant. As we all know to our cost, albums adored by music magazines tend to be more rigorous and admirable than enjoyable, but this one is as warm and welcoming as a hot bath, a cup of mulled wine and an enormous cheque all rolled into one. Mr Grant, who is 41, gay, from Denver and very gloomy, is the former lead singer of a band called The Czars. You can tell how serious

Lib Dem activists less than gleeful about the coalition

Last night, Liberal Democrats gathered for their traditional conference glee club. It is a light-hearted occasion with lots of communal singing and jokes. But some of the gags did seem to vocalise a certain unease about the coalition.   There was a very lusty rendition of a song that went like this, to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas: On the first day of coalition The Tories gave to me A referendum on AV On the second day of merger The Tories gave to me Absolutely zilch And a referendum on AV On the third day of coalition The Tories gave to me Sweet FA Absolutely zilch And

Alex Massie

Hyperbole Corner: Beatles Edition

The New York Times actually paid someone to write this about a new video game: Luckily Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, along with the widows of George Harrison and John Lennon, seem to understand that the Beatles are not a museum piece, that the band and its message ought never be encased in amber. The Beatles: Rock Band is nothing less than a cultural watershed, one that may prove only slightly less influential than the band’s famous appearance on “The Ed Sullivan  Show” in 1964. By reinterpreting an essential symbol of one generation in the medium and technology of another, The Beatles: Rock Band provides a transformative entertainment experience. In

Words fail me…

…when it comes to the Lib Dem’s offical election song, performed by the Liberal Democrat Community Choir: You can, er, buy it on iTunes if you like. Hat-tip: Guido

Gainsbourg: Vie Heroique

Oh, this is splendid. Lord knows when it will be released in Britain, but a trip to Paris in the New Year to see this biopic of the great Serge Gainsbourg might be just the ticket. Here’s the trailer: And, for your additional delectation, here’s Serge performing La Chanson de Prévert:

Miliband, Sting, Marr and breakfast

I’m midway through the Andrew Marr show – did the papers and am going back on in a bit to nod appreciatively at Sting – and the main topic is Miliband as EU Foreign Secretary. That Banana boy is being spoken of is not a compliment. The person they want in that job will be a cipher who will obey the orders of the ministers and visit cities that only Robin Cook* would have heard of. But it wil keep him out of the running to challenge Ed Balls for the Labour party leadership. Sting is banging on about how “we need the winter” and it is somehow under threat

Blur in the park

Been meaning to post all day a hat-tip to our very own Alex James who – before he was a Spectator columnist and celebrated cheese-maker – used to play the bass in a rather successful little group called Blur. Last night, reunited and re-energised, they played their final UK gig in Hyde Park. And, whether or not you were around first time to enjoy these great songs, it really was rather special. From the opening chords of “She’s So High”, it was clear that the band which defined “Cool Britannia” do not intend to fade into obsolescence with that New Labour-infected moment, nor to go through the motions like a

Dolly Parton: Still Fab After All This Time

A lovely piece on the Queen of the Smokey Mountains, Dolly Parton, by Jesse Green in this week’s edition of New York magazine. Here is the Backwoods Barbie in typically forthright, charming form:  “I’m an energy vampire,” she says. “I just suck off everybody’s energy, but I give it back.” She almost dares me to ask her something tawdry: “What else ya got?” But like the fan in the hilarious documentary For the Love of Dolly who finds Judy’s car in a mall parking lot and can think of nothing better to do once inside than lick the seat belt on the passenger side, I find myself deranged by her