Archive for the 'politics' Category

‘Eddie, they’ll arrest you’

16 September 2017


There is a fabulous snippet of cycling history in the latest edition of Rouleur, which has a Spanish theme. It profiles the former Basque rider Txomin Perurena, a Tour de France King of the Mountains winner in 1974 and twice Spanish road race champion. Perurena rode for the Basque team sponsored by drinks company Kas, and was a contemporary of the great Eddie Merckx.

The story is about a stage of the 1974 Tour that crossed the border into Spain. Perurena:

We’d taught him [Mercx] Euskera, which is even more difficult than Flemish. Well, not all of the Basque language, only one phrase: “Gora Euskadi Askatuta” (‘Long live the freedom of the Basque country’.) It was Santi Lazcano who had taught him, and all Mercx could think of doing was to start shouting it in the middle of the pack when the Tour got to Spain, a stage that ended in La Seu d’Urgell. 

“You’re crazy, Eddie”, we would tell him, “if the Guardia Civil hear you, they’ll arrest you.” … It was 1974 and Franco was still alive. Spain was still a dictatorship.

Perurena’s brother was a member of the Basque separatist group ETA and was shot on the street in 1984, a decade after Franco’s death by the Spanish mercenary paramilitaries GAL. They had been hired by Spanish police with the secret approval of the government to fight a so-called ‘dirty war’ against ETA.     

The Basques are passionate and committed cycling fans, and you see their flag on Pyreneean stages of the Tour, along with another black and white flag that supports a prisoners’ repatriation campaign. It wants those ETA members still in jail returned to the region from far-flung parts of Spain and France to serve the rest of their sentence in one of the region’s jails, so that friends and family can visit them. 

The former Basque cycling team Euskatel, with its striking orange tops, was part funded by local subscription in the region, and had a policy of hiring only riders who were born or brought up in the region. Elsewhere, in his wonderful book of stories about the Basque area, Obabakoak, Bernardo Atxaga has a story about a cyclist that stands in some ways for the loss of childhood.  

In the interview, by Carlos Arribas, Perurena tells the story of the day he lost the lead in the Tour of Spain in 1975. At the start of the decisive time trial, he was ahead by more than a minute. The time trial ended in the velodrome in San Sebastian/Donostia, in front of Basque fans. 

“On entering the velodrome and hearing the silence that greeted me from the fans, I knew I hadn’t succeeded. In the end I lost by 14 seconds, half a lap… I’ll never get that silence out of my head… That’s how I lost the Vuelta in front of the home fans.” 

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The Septembers 11th

11 September 2017

Lentes_Salvador_Allende
It’s been many times observed that the destruction of the World Trade Center in 2001 fell on the anniversary of the overthrow in 1973 of the Allende government in Chile, in which the CIA was deeply complicit.

The two events echo around each other. I found an old notebook in which I’d written about reading on the same day both Ariel Dorfman’s book, Exorcising Terror, on the detention of Pinochet in Britain, and articles in Le Monde Diplomatique on the American export of terror.

The engagement by the CIA in the Chilean coup, according to some of the accounts of the torture which followed it, sounds like a set of early rehearsals for the treatment of the detainees in Abu Ghraib prison. And probably in quite a lot of other places in between. The Agency, it would seem, does as much as it thinks its political masters will be willing to turn a blind eye to.

In the same notebook, I also found a quote which offered a different, if related, perspective from the Pakistani-born/British-resident writer Nadeem Aslam, in a short review of Ian McEwan’s novel Saturday:

A novelist votes every time he writes a sentence. Ian McEwan’s Saturday is a lovely and profoundly serious act of engagement with our age. The collapsing of the Twin Towers on 9/11 gave many people – including, I feel, Saturday’s protagonist Perowne – their first glimpse of another kind of world that had been existing alongside ours for some time. It is almost as though the Towers had been blocking a view.

The image at the top of the post is of Salvador Allende’s glasses, recovered from outside the Moneda Palace after his death. It was taken by Roger Espinosa and is published here under the GNU Free Documentation Licence.

The dangers of snap elections

2 June 2017

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Stewart Wood worked with Gordon Brown in late 2007, when as a new Labour party leaders, and therefore a new but unelected Prime Minister, he dithered about calling a General Election, and then decided against. The financial crisis evaporated his poll lead, and he never recovered politically from that.

Wood posted a series of tweets reflecting on that moment through the lens of the difficulties Theresa May is having with her equivalent election, which are worth sharing so they don’t get lost in the Twitter firehose.

Five years on from Brown’s decision not to call with an election, Brown’s spin doctor Damian McBride wrote up the day-by-day inside story (in the Telegraph) of how an apparently inevitable decision to go to the polls became a decision not to.

On the other hand, we all should be grateful that Brown was Prime Minister in 2008; he held his nerve, and used his knowledge of economics and history, to make sure that the British banking system didn’t collapse, and helped stiffen the resolve of the  world’s leaders at the height of the crisis. People forget that we were hours away from a collapse of the banking system.

As Aditya Chakrabortty wrote:

What sticks out about that period is how Brown and Alistair Darling were not only acting without a roadmap, they were driving with Cameron and Osborne right on their bumper telling them to do a U-turn. The diagnosis that British banks were dangerously low on capital was correct – but it was the opposite of what most bankers were saying.

Had Brown called an election, and not won, the thought of Cameron trying to make those decisions is frankly terrifying.

The image at the top of the post shows Brown arriving at No. 10 as new Prime Minister in 2007.

The Liberation Music Orchestra in London

26 November 2016

Obviously the Charlie Haden Liberation Music Orchestra isn’t quite the same without Charlie Haden, who died two years ago. But equally, as Alan Shipton of Radio 3 noted before the start of their concert at Cadogan Hall last weekend, right now we need it more than ever.

The Orchestra was created in 1969, at the height of the protests against the Vietnam War, as a vehicle for Haden’s politics and music, and has toured and recorded off and on ever since, notably in the 2000s as a protest against the invasion of Iraq. The current band, under the leadership of Haden’s long-term collaborator Carla Bley, has just released a record on ecological themes, Time | Life, which was a work in progress when Haden died. The concert included material from this and from their 2004 recording Not In Our Name.

I love big bands, and the Liberation Music Orchestra is a big band: bass, drums, guitar, tuba, French horn, trombone, two trumpets, alto sax and two tenor saxes. Most of the musicians have been playing with the Orchestra for years. And then there’s the elfin figure of Bley, now 80, perched at the piano, standing from time to time to bring a song to a tidy close, or transition into a new one.

They are Carla Bley’s arrangements—Haden’s wife, Ruth Cameron, who introduced the band, said that Charlie could never imagine anyone else arranging the Liberation Music Orchestra’s work—and she has an unmatched ear for the timbres and textures of the jazz orchestra, in the same league as Gil Evans.

Some of the material on Time | Life goes back to the ’60s—Haden’s Song for the Whales and the Bley composition, Silent Spring, a response to Rachel Carson’s path-breaking polemic, both of which were part of the set at Cadogan Hall. There’s also a fine version of Miles’ Blue in Green, which the band opened with.

It wasn’t just me who found the material from Not In Our Name the most compelling on the night, with the scars of the recent Presidential election still fresh (Richard Williams’ review is here). The title track shares with Mingus’ Fables of Faubus the notion that protest should have a spring in its step and a smile on its face. Bley’s arrangement of Amazing Grace restores the simple power of the original. And the high point of the evening, without doubt, was the long medley of America The Beautiful/Life Every Heart And Sing/Skies of America, with drummer Matt Wilson shifting into a military mode in a long solo before the band returned to cacophonous discord. If it was designed to convey the idea that America has lost its way, it worked.

The band: Carla Bley, piano, conductor; Tony Malaby, tenor saxophone; Chris Cheek, tenor saxophone; Loren Stillman, alto saxophone, Michael Rodriguez, trumpet; Seneca Black, trumpet; Vincent Chancey, French horn; Marshall Gilkes, trombone; Earl McIntyre, tuba; Steve Cardenas, guitar; Darek Oles, bass; Matt Wilson, drums.

The concert was recorded for transmission on Radio 3 during December. 

Now’s the time

18 January 2016

basquiat-nows-the-time-1985

I collected a small print of Basquiat’s picture Now’s the time from the framers at the weekend. I’d bought it at the Guggenhein in Bilbao in the summer, when I visited the  exhibition of his works there. It was displayed there with a loop of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech, made at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. He uses the phrase as a recurring motif in one of the most important passages in the speech (my emphasis):

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.

Both Basquiat and King, of course, were drawing explicitly or implicitly on a famous track by Charlie Parker, recorded in 1945. Yes, the image is of Miles Davis, who also played on the session.

In his Parker biography Bird Lives! Ross Russell describes the track.

“Now’s The Time” is catchy and unforgettable, yet difficult to repeat. It has the extra-dimensional quality that distinguishes master works, however small. It is timeless. Its three minutes seem much longer. Ot is perfectly balanced, perfectly logical, haunting, eerie, the finest achievement of the boppers to that point. [p196]

There are other versions, but what for me connects this first recording to the MLK speech is the insistent piano at the the beginning, which demands the listener’s attention in the same way that King demands your attention as he repeats the phrase in that passage.

And one of the things I like about it is that part of that demand comes from the way that King breaks the so-called “rule of three,” and uses the phrase four times. Just when you think he’s going to move on, he insists that you hear it again. One more technical note: the use of a triad implies a completeness in the idea, but King’s rhetorical point is that the Civil Rights movement has not completed its work. He spells this out in the next paragraph of the speech (again, my emphasis):

This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights.

“Now’s The Time” was recorded by Parker on 26th November 1945, and as far as the record label Savoy was concerned, this was the session at which the bebop sound clicked. (“The definitive session”, says Ross Russell.) This was despite the chaotic start to it. By Russell’s account, Thelonious Monk was supposed to play piano, but didn’t show, and Argonne Thornton, who happened to be in a nearby cafe, was drafted in. Gillespie was under contract to someone else, so he played uncredited. Miles Davis was nineteen, still at Juillard. Parker was late, and when he did arrive his reeds developed a squeak and a messenger was sent to midtown to get hold of spares.

And it attracted awful reviews. The jazz magazine Downbeat reviewed “Now’s The Time” together with “Billie’s Bounce”:

These two sides are excellent examples of the other side of the Gillespie craze – the bad taste and ill-advised fanaticism of Dizzy’s uninhibited style. Only Charlie Parker, who is a better musician and who deserves more credit than Dizzy for the style anyway, saves these from a bad fate. At that he’s far off form … This is the sort of stuff that has thrown innumerable impressionable young musicians out of stride, that has harmed many of them irreparably. [Ross Russell, p197]

Downbeat’s practice was to rate records on a scale of four down to one: the reviewer refused to rate “Now’s The Time”. But for his part, almost twenty years on, King knew his jazz. A year after the Lincoln Memorial speech he was at the Berlin Jazz Festival as the guest of Willy Brandt, then the mayor of West Berlin, and wrote an essay for the programme:

When life itself offers no order and meaning, the musician creates an order and meaning from the sounds of the earth which flow through his instrument. It is no wonder that so much of the search for identity among American Negroes was championed by jazz musicians.

Basquiat came back to Parker as a subject repeatedly during his short career, as explained in a fine post on the blog The Genealogy of Style. Here’s another picture, made two years before Now’s The Time, which celebrates that 1945 Savoy session.

basquiat-discography-two-1983

The Basquiat exhibition had mixed reviews: Griselda Murray Brown in the Financial Times found it “a fine retrospective,” while Jason Farago, reviewing it for The Guardian in Toronto, thought it sometimes patronising and over-interested in celebrity. Brown liked the used of the King recording; Farago hated it. For my part, I realised that I’d skimmed too many glossy magazine articles about Basquiat and his work, and assumed (wrongly, I now realised) that he was a street artist who had lucked into some ’80s New York radical chic. Instead I found work that was both edgy and relevant, unlike the Jeff Koons retrospective running elsewhere in the Guggenheim, which was about as interesting in 2015 as the work of Edwin Landseer.

One final note. King, of course, was assassinated at 39, five years after the speech at the Lincoln Memorial. Basquiat died of an overdose at the age of 27, three years after he made the “Now’s the time” image. Parker, who sold all the rights to the song for $50, cash in hand at the session, died at 34, nine years after the session. For all of them: now was the time.

Dying together

20 December 2015
Occupy_Design_z2

Poster for COP-21 in Paris, by Occupy Design.

For all the small spliters of optimism from the Paris COP-21 talks (and symbols and rhetoric do matter), the whole process reminded me of Bertolt Brecht’s poem “Swansong,  published earlier this year in The Guradian. Brecht wrote it about the long shadow of nuclear war, but physics has multiple ways of dealing with hubris.

 Swansong, by Bertolt Brecht

      Let the last inscription then run
      (That broken slab without readers):

The planet is going to burst,
Those it bred will destroy it.

As a way of living together we merely thought up capitalism.

Thinking of physics, we thought up rather more:
A way of dying together.

(Translation by John Willett)

The image at the top of the post is from the Brandalism project, and is used with thanks. It hacked Paris poster sites at the start of the Paris conference and replaced the posters with new images. 

The Village Against The World

22 August 2015

  
Dan Hancox’ The Village Against The World (Verso, 2014) is an account of Marinaleda, the anarcho-syndicalist village (my label) in Andalusia that has remade itself through 40 years of intense political battles with the Andalusian authorities. It turns out to be refleftive rather than uncritical, listening to the less sympathetic witnesses as well as the admirers. 

But there is a lot to admire. Some 20 years of smart and relentless political activism won the village enough land to farm, and, later, investment in processing plants. There is cheap co-operatively owned housing and good social facilities. The unemployment rate is a fraction of the rest of Andalusia. Sancho Gordillo, the mayor for 40 years, is the central figure in this process, is clearly an astute and principled politician, and an interesting theorist, who could have played on a bigger stage, though would likely have achieved less. 

Along the way there is some rich insight into the state of post-Franco Spain.

Will the village and its ideals survive Gordillo, who’s now in his 60s? That’s an open question, with which the book ends. Recommended.

Making claims

6 June 2015
One of four surviving copies of the 1215 Magna Carta. This copy is one of two held at the British Library. It came from the collection of Sir Robert Cotton, who died in 1631. In 1731, a fire at Ashburnam House in Westminster, where his library was then housed, destroyed or damaged many of the rare manuscripts, which is why this copy is burnt.

One of four surviving copies of the 1215 Magna Carta, held at the British Library.

The long history of the Magna Carta turns out to have been a lucky accident, or at least that’s my reading of it from the 800th anniversary exhibition at the British Library. King John signed it to placate a powerful group of barons who had taken up arms against the king in response to his heavy taxation and arbitrary behaviour, and had captured London. Having signed, John immediately cried foul, telling his protector, Pope Innocent III, that he had signed under duress (shades of Charles I, who has his own part in this story.) Innocent promptly issued a Papal Bull annulling the Charter.

Popes being Popes in the Middle Ages, that should have finished it off, except that John died a year later, leaving the 9-year old Henry III on the throne and his advisers needing to appease the barons, with Britain still in a state of civil war. The advisers reissued the Charter in both 1216 and 1217, the second time as part of the peace treaty that ended the civil war.

But the real breakthrough came in 1225, when Henry, no longer a minor, issued the fourth version of the Magna Carta in exchange for the grant of taxes, which also created a connection between representation and taxation.Importantly, he also stated that he did this with his “spontaneous and free will”, and affixed the Royal Seal.

Read the rest of this entry »

London to the faraway towns

8 March 2015

Satellite
The story about the radio producer Charles Parker, who made the radio ballads in the 1950s and 1960s, is that he wanted to hear the voices of ordinary people on the radio, and the invention of the portable Uher tape recorder gave him the chance. His politics collided with new technology to create a new way of working – a way of working that included the songs of Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger. For each of the radio ballads he would vanish from Broadcasting House for weeks on end, recording scores of hours of tape, to the chagrin of his employers at the BBC. They eventually fired him, despite his winning hatfuls of prizes for his innovative and radical work.

As Parker later recalled, in the days before the tape recorder arrived, the producer would drive into the country in a “bloody great Humber,” record people talking onto disc, transcribe their words, and hand the resulting scripts to actors. Well, lawdy luv-a-ducks, what a lark!

I came across Parker’s work, which was then out of print, while working as a current affairs producer for Radio Four. I’d read about it in one of the many critiques of media that were current in the 1980s, and promptly borrowed the recordings from the BBC Library. (They’ve since been re-released by Topic Records.)

After I left the BBC I wrote my own critique of the dominant discourse of Radio 4 News and Current Affairs, which if I recall correctly was headlined “London calling.” And the notion that “this is London” runs deep through Britain’s news and current affairs culture. It’s telling that sport and music can move to the BBC’s new centre in Salford, but news and current affairs is located more centrally than ever, TV and radio reunited in a back-to-the-future kind of a way at Broadcasting House, W1A, 1AA.

And this whole stream of personal history, long-repressed personal and media history was triggered by listening to James Robertson perform his monologue, “The News Where You Are.” No, it’s not a coincidence that he’s a Scot. The world just looks different from the far away towns.

The image of Parker interviewing at the top of the post is from the Library of Birmingham, and is used with thanks. The Charles Parker Archive Trust can be found online here.

 

The songs of Alex Glasgow

2 February 2015

The singer Alex Glasgow seems to have vanished from the shared memory since his death a bit more than a decade ago, which is a shame because he was a sharp observer and a fine songwriter. Even those songs which seem now to be of their time, in the ’60s and ’70s, are keen bits of social observation and social history.

Alex Glasgow was born in Gateshead in 1935, in the north-east of England, and worked much of his life in the area, at least until he emigrated unexpectedly to Australia in 1981. Certainly his most memorable work, such as the music for Alan Plater’s Close The Coalhouse Door, is deeply rooted in the culture and the history of the region. He wrote ‘Dance To Thi Daddy’ (at the top of the post) as the title song for the ’70s television series When The Boat Comes In, set in the region. He was also one of life’s radicals, with a caustic view of politics and politicians.

Plater wrote a fine obituary of Alex Glasgow in The Guardian in which he observed that the singer – described in Wikipedia*, completely wrongly, as a folk singer – was in fact a chansonnier – more like European singers such as Jacques Brel. In an English context, he’s closer to a theatre and music hall tradition; certainly a lot of his songs tell stories and many have punchlines – such as ‘Geordie Broon‘ or ‘Mummy Says‘ or ‘Festival Time.’

And although I first came across his work in Close The Coalhouse Door – for example ‘When It’s Ours,’ about the nationalisation of the British coal mines, which is a family favourite in my house – he also wrote a fine musical play about the 19th century north-eastern music hall star Joe Wilson. Since the words of 19th century music hall have often survived, but usually not the music, I think that Alex Glasgow must have put new settings to songs such as ‘Sally Wheatley.’

One of the the reasons I think Alex Glasgow’s work has disappeared from view was that it has been almost impossible to find. Last year, when I wanted to share his wonderful song ‘Socialist ABC’ with some younger colleagues, they said, ‘It must be on Youtube,’ only to find that it wasn’t.

Well, it is now – which is the reason for this post. Someone – it’s not clear who – uploaded a selection of his records to Youtube last November, including some that I thought had been deleted. I’d start with Songs Of Alex Glasgow Volume 3/Now And Then, and then move on to *Songs Volume 1 and 2, which starts with the Coalhouse Door songs. Northern Drift/Joe Lives! opens with a live recording of his live show with his long-time collaborator Henry Livings, which has good things in it, but is maybe more of an acquired taste. It closes with songs from his show about Joe Wilson.

* Yes, I know I should rewrite it. But it’s quite a big edit.

Update (3rd February 2015): because the uploads were labelled “Alex Glasgow – Topic”, I assumed in the original post that these had come from Topic Records. It turns out I was wrong about that. I have amended the post accordingly.