(Written 11/06/2010)
My good friend Zeina is a Palestinian who lives in Jerusalem. She has a fairly hard time of it, even living in Israel, but her family have a harder time, as they live in Gaza. At least, so she tells me, but I have no reason to think that she's lying. I plan to visit her sometime - soon, I hope - and I'm looking forward to a guided tour of Jerusalem when I do.
I won't be meeting her parents, though, because while it's easy for me to travel across the border after a few minutes chat with the border guards, it's much more difficult for her to do so. The interview at the border lasts for a minimum of three hours, sometimes longer, both on the way out and on the way in. The guards can refuse passage one day, allow it another, seemingly on a whim. So a day in Gaza isn't really an option. Yet she's employed by the British Government, and has a letter from the British Ambassador, countersigned by the head of the Department for Iinternational Development in Jerusalem, that not only confirms this, but also confirms that she has been security cleared to a reasonably high level by HMG. In fact, her travel is so restricted that when we went to Indonesia, those nice chaps in the Jordanian Government were persuaded to issue her with a Jordanian passport in a slightly different name, just so that she could fly to other countries easily, yet not face detention on her return to Israel. (They do the odd favour for HMG.)
Every interaction she has with the Israeli local and national government takes at least five times longer than an Israeli national, while stringent checks are made on her background, who her friends are, what hobbies she has, when she last crossed the border, and so on. She's picked up by the police while out on a regular basis, and expected to prove her identity time after time. She gets the stop and search treatment at least once a week, just because she looks Arabic.
And yet, she's much better off than if she were living in Gaza, where unemployment is running at 44% and there's a lack of most things, but especially water. The river Jordan used to run through Palestine, but now it trickles. All the fresh water that it used to bring is now harvested off by Israel, to irrigate their crops. That would be understandable if Israel was short of food, but the crops being watered are mainly destined for export. Something to consider next time you fancy a Jaffa orange.
It's true that rockets are fired from Gaza into Israel, and that's regrettable, especially when they kill and injure people. Property damage, at least, can be repaired or rebuilt. When counter strikes are launched from Israel, though, no such simple solution is available to the people who live in Gaza, as Israel forbids them importing steel, bricks, roof tiles or cement, on the basis that such materials could be made into bombs and stealth fighters.
Without trawling through the very extensive list of other items that cannot be imported, I'll focus on one aspect of human development and try to illustrate how difficult life is in Gaza. The decision to have a child is not one that is taken lightly, and in Gaza, that's doubly, triply so. To start with, there's a shortage of medical staff, so most births are home births, unattended by a midwife. (I have nothing against home births, indeed, I'm in favour of them in the case of a healthy mother and healthy child, but it's a good idea to have someone else there who can tell if something is going wrong.)
There's a shortage of drugs, if labour proves difficult, and if a pain-killer is required, there is absolutely no nitrous oxide and no bottled oxygen. Rockets can be fuelled with that, apparently.
Assuming the child is born safely, there are no Pampers (banned) or pre-formed terry nappies (not banned, but few ever get through, as they can be used as wicks for Molotov cocktails.) So you have to make your own. Oh, and once the child is weaned, there is no baby food. It's banned.
Now, I'm a fairly enthusiastic Christian, and Zeina is a keen Muslim. Up above us, the Archbishop of Canterbury does his best to keep the Anglican communion together while keeping some sort of relationship going with the Pope, and various Mufti and Qadi argue about whether the Sunni or Shia interpretation of the faith is the correct one - but Zeina and I are just two people who go to a church and a mosque, thank our god for what we have, and try to do what our god asks of us, which is mostly to love one another, to try to be good, and to believe that god exists. If, when I depart this place, I find myself standing in front of Allah, I have no doubt that he will say "Hey, Mark - you did your best..." and I daresay the same will happen if Zeina finds herself in front of the Christian God.
She worships Jesus as a prophet, you see. While I think there's much sense in what Mohammed said.
So I asked Zeina why the democratically elected government of Gaza, Hamas, would allow rockets to be fired into Isreal? After all, doesn't it perpetuate the struggle, and doesn't the random civilian killing that an unguided rocket delivers also perpetuate the Muslim/terrorist witch hunt that the West too often subscribes to? Her answer was given in rather heated tones, but it boiled down to a fairly simple argument. When people's homes are demolished by Israeli bulldozers and they can't rebuild them, when there are shortages of everything from baby food to water, when nearly half the population can't get work, there's not much of a welfare state, and the only way that supplies can be brought in is through an Isreali border where Israeli sanctions are rigourously applied - well, that's when the hawks in Government are supported far more than the doves are.
Starve any group of humans, lock them up in inadequate facilities, and kick them every day. Then have someone smuggle a gun into their facilities. Now, there might be some of those humans who will say "Offer him the nice gun in exchange for talks about peace, it's shiny and he might go for it", but they'll be drowned out by the shouts of "Shoot him dead!"
So I'm declaring an interest, and I'm on the side of the Palestinians, especially those who live in Gaza. If the sanctions were lifted, and the Palestinians tried to oppress the Israelis in the same way, I reserve the right to change sides.
See, Zeina and I both worship religions that have, at their very heart, peace, tolerance, understanding and love for one another. It is, perhaps, a pity that those above us, who struggle with interpretations, sanctions and treaties, don't hear that call.
Friday 13 December 2013
Wednesday 11 December 2013
Sting - Symphonicities
(Written 4/7/2010.)
Occasionally, someone remembers that I used to write CD reviews and lobs something my way. Yesterday brought an advance copy of Sting's latest, so I thought I'd share the review. I don't think it'll get me an invite to any of his future concerts...
------------------------------
There's any number of questions that a reviewer has when listening to a new album, and "Is it any good?" would seem to be chief among them. There is, in fact, a far deeper and more basic question to be considered.
Why make the album in the first place?
In the case of "Symphonicites", Sting's latest, the answer eludes me. There are no new songs on the album, just a selection from his solo albums and a couple from his Police days. I say "a selection" deliberately, as this is no "Best Of" - unless he thinks "I Hung My Head" was one of his best, of course.
"Symphonicities" is a bunch of songs with orchestral backing, a conceit that is sometimes indulged by songwriters who think they know more about music than they actually do. The concept is not automatically a disaster, as Ian Anderson and others have shown, but, let's be honest, it usually is. As Sting happily demonstrates.
The original "Roxanne" had a sparse charm, a desolation in the production that matched the bleak love expressed by the lyrics. However, thirty-two years later, it seems that what Sting really wanted was a lush orchestration to ornament his observations on loving a Parisian prostitute. Who knew? Similarly, all the urgency of "Everything She Does Is Magic" is ripped out by having a galumphing orchestra bouncing through it.
Why add an orchestra, then? Surely, it ought to be because there is some nuance that can only be brought out by the woodwind section, or the horns, or... something. Maybe some radical scoring can transform a well-known song into a different and intriguing piece? Well, you won't be getting any nuances here, or anything radical. "An Englishman In New York" was originally recorded with an orchestra, and the only tiny difference between it and the version on "Symphonicities" is a slight increase in the pizzicato strings.
If you want to do orchestration properly, you use it when it's appropriate. "You Will Be My Ain True Love" cries out for some long whistles, and possibly some pentatonic fiddle work, not a grand horn intro underscored with harp, strings and snare drum. "When We Dance" isn't improved by a violin section playing the exact accompaniment it had on "Fields Of Gold", it's just... different. No better, no worse, no added value, nothing new to say. Apart from "I can do orchestras now, Mum! Look, Mum!"
My brother, a librarian, spends some of his leisure time at a local college where he's learned the art of blacksmithing. These days, he can do twisty metal with the best of them. And yet, he can't bang out a spare engine for my car with his hammer, because, he claims, "That's a different skill" - and he's right. Similarly, there's a skill in writing five minute pop songs, and a skill in orchestrating, and they're not the same. Why not accept the songwriting skill with gratitude, and carry on using it to shift millions of albums, rather than trying to demonstrate questionable skill in other areas, and... not?
Have a listen to a few tracks over at Amazon, and if you like what you hear, buy "Symphonicities". If you have the original songs already, though, you'll be wasting your money.
In the "Homerpalooza" episode of The Simpsons, a tech guy enters the backstage area and shouts "Who is playing with the London Symphony Orchestra? Come on people, somebody ordered the London Symphony Orchestra. Possibly while high." Sting, I'm looking in your general direction.
"Symphonicities" is released on 19th July.
Occasionally, someone remembers that I used to write CD reviews and lobs something my way. Yesterday brought an advance copy of Sting's latest, so I thought I'd share the review. I don't think it'll get me an invite to any of his future concerts...
------------------------------
There's any number of questions that a reviewer has when listening to a new album, and "Is it any good?" would seem to be chief among them. There is, in fact, a far deeper and more basic question to be considered.
Why make the album in the first place?
In the case of "Symphonicites", Sting's latest, the answer eludes me. There are no new songs on the album, just a selection from his solo albums and a couple from his Police days. I say "a selection" deliberately, as this is no "Best Of" - unless he thinks "I Hung My Head" was one of his best, of course.
"Symphonicities" is a bunch of songs with orchestral backing, a conceit that is sometimes indulged by songwriters who think they know more about music than they actually do. The concept is not automatically a disaster, as Ian Anderson and others have shown, but, let's be honest, it usually is. As Sting happily demonstrates.
The original "Roxanne" had a sparse charm, a desolation in the production that matched the bleak love expressed by the lyrics. However, thirty-two years later, it seems that what Sting really wanted was a lush orchestration to ornament his observations on loving a Parisian prostitute. Who knew? Similarly, all the urgency of "Everything She Does Is Magic" is ripped out by having a galumphing orchestra bouncing through it.
Why add an orchestra, then? Surely, it ought to be because there is some nuance that can only be brought out by the woodwind section, or the horns, or... something. Maybe some radical scoring can transform a well-known song into a different and intriguing piece? Well, you won't be getting any nuances here, or anything radical. "An Englishman In New York" was originally recorded with an orchestra, and the only tiny difference between it and the version on "Symphonicities" is a slight increase in the pizzicato strings.
If you want to do orchestration properly, you use it when it's appropriate. "You Will Be My Ain True Love" cries out for some long whistles, and possibly some pentatonic fiddle work, not a grand horn intro underscored with harp, strings and snare drum. "When We Dance" isn't improved by a violin section playing the exact accompaniment it had on "Fields Of Gold", it's just... different. No better, no worse, no added value, nothing new to say. Apart from "I can do orchestras now, Mum! Look, Mum!"
My brother, a librarian, spends some of his leisure time at a local college where he's learned the art of blacksmithing. These days, he can do twisty metal with the best of them. And yet, he can't bang out a spare engine for my car with his hammer, because, he claims, "That's a different skill" - and he's right. Similarly, there's a skill in writing five minute pop songs, and a skill in orchestrating, and they're not the same. Why not accept the songwriting skill with gratitude, and carry on using it to shift millions of albums, rather than trying to demonstrate questionable skill in other areas, and... not?
Have a listen to a few tracks over at Amazon, and if you like what you hear, buy "Symphonicities". If you have the original songs already, though, you'll be wasting your money.
In the "Homerpalooza" episode of The Simpsons, a tech guy enters the backstage area and shouts "Who is playing with the London Symphony Orchestra? Come on people, somebody ordered the London Symphony Orchestra. Possibly while high." Sting, I'm looking in your general direction.
"Symphonicities" is released on 19th July.
Friday 6 December 2013
Science idiots
(Written 26/09/2013. See http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01d56dn)
I have been enjoying Prof Brian Cox's history of science in Britain, complete with some very satisfactory explosions, and his simple explanations of why the lot of the scientist has ever been distrust and ridicule. This very evening, he explained what a scientific "theory" is. It's not a wild stab in the dark, it's a peer-reviewed truth that may be supplanted by a later, better truth. What's important, though, is that the original theory will still be true. (I knew this already, having lectured scientists at Imperial College, and no, I'm not going to stop milking that particular cow - ever.)
Coincidentally, the programme aired on the day when scientists from across the globe reported on climate change and put forward the peer-reviewed theory that man-made activity is responsible for such change. In other words, there is no other explanation that will fit the gradual warming of our planet, the rise in sea levels and the extremes of weather that are happening around the world.
Now, for most people, this doesn't matter much. Barring those whose roof has blown off in a hurricane, of course. Most of us live a fair way above sea levels. It's going to worry the people in the Maldives a heck of a lot, though, given that their islands rise about two inches above the Indian Ocean. It'll worry people in Southern Pakistan, too - a region that actually submerges during parts of the rainy season.
What angers me is exactly what Prof Cox is trying to combat - the wilful ignorance of "most people". People who smugly say, "Well, scientists don't know everything" (recommended answer, after you've bounced their head off the bar counter - "Well, they know a fuxsake more than you do. In particular, they'll be able to tell you whether that's an epidural or a subdural haematoma.") The people who say "If there's such a thing as evolution, why don't we see more apes turning into humans?", or "The earth has always warmed and cooled, I mean there was an Ice Age. I read this book by some American academic who had a degree in truthology where he showed that global warming is bunk, and that last year's summer was colder than the year before."
There are people who refuse medical treatment for illness, and they call themselves Christian Scientists. They'll produce all kinds of arguments that a special form of prayer will cure any disease, but what they won't produce is evidence that can be tested a hundred times over and give the same, exact, result every time. There are parents who refuse the MMR vaccine because they've "heard" that it can cause autism, yet when they're told that this erroneous idea came from a paper by an ambitious doctor who later admitted that he made up the results of his study just to get published, and that all proper academic studies show that the MMR vaccine lowers infant death rates dramatically - still refuse the vaccine, "just in case". There are schools that teach "Intelligent Design" rather than evolution, and their students who want to be doctors or biologists get a nasty shock when they are not admitted to further education - where real scientists lecture.
I suspect that Prof Cox is fighting a losing battle, the "s'common sense, innit?" crowd will drown us in their lowest-denominator, simplistic, uneducated, anti-education arguments, sponsored by KFC.
And as if to prove it, when I turned to another channel, there was an advert for a steam cleaner with a voice-over from a smug woman, boasting that "In our house, there are no chemicals..." Really? Because I counted an oxygen atom bonded to two hydrogen atoms in that steam. I'll take an each-way bet on two carbon atoms co-valently bonded to an oxygen atom as well, just as long as you're breathing, dear. Mind, in the mood I'm in, I can remove that pollution by strangling you, as I dearly wish to.
Oh, and assuming your house is on planet Earth, there's going to be a shitload of nitrogen as well. And don't let's start on the polyesters, acrylics, silicones and polyurethanes in that cheap overdeveloped kettle you're holding.
Mao Zedong herded people into compulsory re-education camps during the Cultural Revolution, and has been criticised for doing so. Tonight, though, I have some sympathy with the old feller. Stupid people should be helped. Those who deliberately seek stupidity should be hit with sticks and sent to work in the rice-fields, because they are of no value to society beyond incoherently shouting on the stage of the Jeremy Kyle show, for the entertainment of other sofa-bound snaggle-toothed blimps.
Me, I'm with the scientists. And I have chemicals in my house.
Wednesday 4 December 2013
The fags and me
(Written 21/09/2012. And I went from 25 Marlboro a day to just two, one first thing in the morning and one before bed. This has not changed, fifteen months later.)
I am an unrepentant smoker, and I fully expect to be so until I shuffle off this mortal coil, almost certainly prematurely and shuddering with a hacking cough as I go. In this habitual pleasure, I have had many companions, including my pal singer/songwriter and noted rythmo-sardonicist David Hughes, a 40-a-day Golden Virginia man. Then, last year, he suddenly converted to an electronic cigarette and has not applied flame to tobacco since. I found this somewhat astonishing, and said as much when we met on Cromer Pier several months back. Rather than trying to explain, he simply handed me the electric gasper and said "Try it."
You know what? It wasn't a substitute for smoking, it wasn't trying hard to be a cigarette - it was exactly like smoking. Proper warm/hot smoke that caught attractively at the back of the throat, all the taste, smoke that could be blown out in a thin stream or a long exhalation that sent tendrils drifting upwards. Unfortunately for this full-strength Marlboro smoker, the taste was of Golden Virginia. That's the trouble with Marlboro - there's nothing like them. Except that there is, because the same company that supply David offer an "American Tobacco" option, he told me.
After considerable thought, I gave them a call on Tuesday. I was pretty blunt, saying that I smoked Marlboro Reds and that only an exact replica would do. No problem, was the reply... "We're not allowed to call them Marlboro, but that's the taste our 'American Tobacco' mimics." So I ordered one, and it was delivered yesterday.
I truly have no idea how they've done this, but it's a Marlboro. Not just like a Marlboro, it IS a Marlboro. It was delivered just before noon. 36 hours have passed and I have not fired up a tobacco-based fag this last day and a half. Nor have I felt the need to do so, as I have a wonderful Marlboro that's pre-loaded with two packs of 20 cigarettes. I've been smoking that instead.
Having written that, I ought to explain that "smoke" of any kind is not involved, and here I must refer to the maker's information, because I simply don't believe it. It's water vapour, heated to the temperature that burnt tobacco smoke would enter the mouth, with added nicotine and "flavourings". Water vapour in such a fine mist that it rises when breathed out, vapour that can even be blown out in rings. No, sorry, I said I don't believe it and neither do I. It's smoke, dammit, if it looks like smoke, behaves like smoke, grabs the back of my throat and tastes like smoke, it's smoke. Thing is, though - it's safe smoke. There's no carbon dioxide in it, no cyanide, ammonia, formaldehyde or other trace poisons, and most importantly, no tar. From coating my lungs with black stickiness, I seem now to be steam cleaning them.
Please note that I am not giving up smoking, and this new device has not been bought so that I can give up. It has been bought so that I can enjoy the considerable advantages that electronic fags bring. Number one, of course, is safe smoke. I may be a determined smoker, but I'm not a stupid one. It's Lady Nicotine that I'm addicted to, not carbon monoxide or tar. It makes sense to smoke tar-free cigarettes. However, another advantage is that I can smoke almost anywhere, because what I am smoking is odourless vapour. Following along with that, my clothes and I will no longer smell of smoke, nor will there be a fine, sticky layer of tar on all the surfaces in my house that traps dust and discolours the ceiling. Oh, and if I'm drunk, sticking the wrong end of an electronic cigarette in my mouth is painless, as opposed to... well, you get the idea.
I also plan to have a little more money. A pack of 20 Marlboro costs about £7. The nice lady at Electro-Snout sold me a starter kit of battery, charger and 2 screw-in faglets, in other words eighty cigarettes. She also mentioned that they had a special offer on the Marlboro faglets, two packs of five for the price of one - i.e. the equivalent of 400 cigarettes. In addition, I ordered a spare battery, because they take two hours to recharge. And that little lot came to £35, or five packs of Marlboro. So, 480 fags in total for the price of 100. Not bad... As for the continuing price, the standard cost of the equivalent of 200 Marlboro is £9, delivered within 24 hours.
Folks, if you know someone who smokes, especially if they have no intention of giving up, feel free to show them this. I can't say that I'll never smoke another tobacco-based gasper, I may very well do, but I'm mean enough to avoid buying them because I have a cheaper exact replica, and not daft enough to continue inhaling dirty smoke when clean smoke is available.
There are some very dodgy and far cheaper electronic cigarettes available, so I should add that mine, like David Hughes', was bought from http://www.
Please, though, don't congratulate me on giving up smoking. I have not. Also, do not call me an ex-smoker. As I wrote at the start, I have every intention of staying a smoker for the rest of my life. Just not a stupid smoker.
I am an unrepentant smoker, and I fully expect to be so until I shuffle off this mortal coil, almost certainly prematurely and shuddering with a hacking cough as I go. In this habitual pleasure, I have had many companions, including my pal singer/songwriter and noted rythmo-sardonicist David Hughes, a 40-a-day Golden Virginia man. Then, last year, he suddenly converted to an electronic cigarette and has not applied flame to tobacco since. I found this somewhat astonishing, and said as much when we met on Cromer Pier several months back. Rather than trying to explain, he simply handed me the electric gasper and said "Try it."
You know what? It wasn't a substitute for smoking, it wasn't trying hard to be a cigarette - it was exactly like smoking. Proper warm/hot smoke that caught attractively at the back of the throat, all the taste, smoke that could be blown out in a thin stream or a long exhalation that sent tendrils drifting upwards. Unfortunately for this full-strength Marlboro smoker, the taste was of Golden Virginia. That's the trouble with Marlboro - there's nothing like them. Except that there is, because the same company that supply David offer an "American Tobacco" option, he told me.
After considerable thought, I gave them a call on Tuesday. I was pretty blunt, saying that I smoked Marlboro Reds and that only an exact replica would do. No problem, was the reply... "We're not allowed to call them Marlboro, but that's the taste our 'American Tobacco' mimics." So I ordered one, and it was delivered yesterday.
I truly have no idea how they've done this, but it's a Marlboro. Not just like a Marlboro, it IS a Marlboro. It was delivered just before noon. 36 hours have passed and I have not fired up a tobacco-based fag this last day and a half. Nor have I felt the need to do so, as I have a wonderful Marlboro that's pre-loaded with two packs of 20 cigarettes. I've been smoking that instead.
Having written that, I ought to explain that "smoke" of any kind is not involved, and here I must refer to the maker's information, because I simply don't believe it. It's water vapour, heated to the temperature that burnt tobacco smoke would enter the mouth, with added nicotine and "flavourings". Water vapour in such a fine mist that it rises when breathed out, vapour that can even be blown out in rings. No, sorry, I said I don't believe it and neither do I. It's smoke, dammit, if it looks like smoke, behaves like smoke, grabs the back of my throat and tastes like smoke, it's smoke. Thing is, though - it's safe smoke. There's no carbon dioxide in it, no cyanide, ammonia, formaldehyde or other trace poisons, and most importantly, no tar. From coating my lungs with black stickiness, I seem now to be steam cleaning them.
Please note that I am not giving up smoking, and this new device has not been bought so that I can give up. It has been bought so that I can enjoy the considerable advantages that electronic fags bring. Number one, of course, is safe smoke. I may be a determined smoker, but I'm not a stupid one. It's Lady Nicotine that I'm addicted to, not carbon monoxide or tar. It makes sense to smoke tar-free cigarettes. However, another advantage is that I can smoke almost anywhere, because what I am smoking is odourless vapour. Following along with that, my clothes and I will no longer smell of smoke, nor will there be a fine, sticky layer of tar on all the surfaces in my house that traps dust and discolours the ceiling. Oh, and if I'm drunk, sticking the wrong end of an electronic cigarette in my mouth is painless, as opposed to... well, you get the idea.
I also plan to have a little more money. A pack of 20 Marlboro costs about £7. The nice lady at Electro-Snout sold me a starter kit of battery, charger and 2 screw-in faglets, in other words eighty cigarettes. She also mentioned that they had a special offer on the Marlboro faglets, two packs of five for the price of one - i.e. the equivalent of 400 cigarettes. In addition, I ordered a spare battery, because they take two hours to recharge. And that little lot came to £35, or five packs of Marlboro. So, 480 fags in total for the price of 100. Not bad... As for the continuing price, the standard cost of the equivalent of 200 Marlboro is £9, delivered within 24 hours.
Folks, if you know someone who smokes, especially if they have no intention of giving up, feel free to show them this. I can't say that I'll never smoke another tobacco-based gasper, I may very well do, but I'm mean enough to avoid buying them because I have a cheaper exact replica, and not daft enough to continue inhaling dirty smoke when clean smoke is available.
There are some very dodgy and far cheaper electronic cigarettes available, so I should add that mine, like David Hughes', was bought from http://www.
Please, though, don't congratulate me on giving up smoking. I have not. Also, do not call me an ex-smoker. As I wrote at the start, I have every intention of staying a smoker for the rest of my life. Just not a stupid smoker.
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