Old Comics

January 28, 2012 § 1 Comment

An adventure comic book featuring dinosaur islands and space adventurers has been rescued from closure by a grateful parent whose child used the cartoons to learn to read.

The Phoenix, which will be serialised in The Times next Saturday, is a revival of The DFC, a comic book founded in 2008 in an attempt to reintroduce children to serial adventures of the type that fell out of fashion in the 1970s.

The DFC was forced to close in 2009 when its backer, the publisher Random House, withdrew its support. But one parent was so impressed with the comic’s power to engage the interest of his child that he agreed to fund a revamped version. The new backer, who wishes to remain anonymous, contacted the comic’s founder, David Fickling, a publisher who is best known for nurturing the talents of Philip Pullman and Jacqueline Wilson.

Children’s comics enjoyed their glory years in the 1950s when Eaglesold 900,000 copies a week. The market declined sharply in the 1970s and never recovered. The only two British comics to survive are The Beano and The Dandy, which have a joint weekly circulation of about 70,000.

Ben Sharpe, editor of The Phoenix, said the demise of the adventure comic book for children was peculiar to Britain. “If you look at France, Belgium, the United States or Japan, these story vehicles are still very common. I think it’s a lot to do with our cultural stuffiness.

“Story comics like The Phoenix used to be a main part of children’s reading experience, but as prices started to rise parents made a decision not to buy them any more. For the children it is an unsupervised reading experience, but parents rather overlooked that.”

The Beano used to run serial stories such as Billy the Cat until the 1970s, but it is now almost totally reliant on joke-based strip cartoons. The Phoenix will feature serials such as Pirates of Panagea that will run for 20 weeks.

The new comic, which is aimed at children between 8 and 11, shares some heritage with The Times. Its designer is Laurence Beck, the grandson of one of the men who styled the masthead of this newspaper in the 1950s. Reynolds Stone’s reworking of the coat of arms in the Times logo lasted from 1953 until its removal during a radical redesign in 1966. (The current masthead is based on a previous design from 1932.) Mr Sharpe said his comic already had 1,000 subscribers and that the backer had committed to the project for more than a year. “His youngest child, who wasn’t very interested in reading at all, learned to read through The DFC. They thought that something of this sort should still be in the world. They’re passionate supporters.”


Redesign Humans

January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment

FORGET intelligent design – we suffer from damn stupid design, as many readers noted in response to our seasonal competition, which asked how you would modify the human body if you were not restricted in any way. As Stephan Peters puts it: “The human body is crammed full of messy plumbing, circuitry, scaffolding, dodgy components and building materials, and is riddled with workarounds to compensate for poor initial design as a result.”

Readers who have recently given birth are, understandably, keen on a major redesign. Pouch envy is clearly rife, with genetically acquisitive eyes cast in the direction of the marsupials’ tiny offspring and the comfortable, capacious pockets in which to nurture them. Dozens of those whose offspring are now crawling and walking, meanwhile, plead for extra arms or, in several of the more detailed submissions, for the ability to grow and resorb limbs on demand.

Great minds continue to think alike as competition entries progress through the ages of life. School pupils cause teachers to want eyes in the back of their heads. We wonder how many of the readers who want light-emitting eyebrows are reading under the bed covers on a school night. As readers approach the age at which the phrase “fashion crisis” becomes comprehensible, they want “chameleon” skin – avoiding the cost of re-wardrobing or, for those who have progressed to postgraduate studies, granting the ability to blend into the wallpaper and observe the progress of their funding applications. Very many others want fur instead.

All this surface display leads to mating. We pass rapidly over some of the detailed improvements requested for the act and the parts involved, and focus instead on the socially worthy and ingenious requests for extra steps in the process of conception to ensure that every child is a wanted, nay a determinedly sought-after child.

Dozens want to go green. Literally green, that is, with chlorophyll and photosynthetic skin, so that humans become carbon-neutral over our entire lifespan and no longer need to eat anything. This would have another advantage. Not only global warming but also racism would be much reduced if everyone was viridian.

As life’s rich current moves on we come to requests for the all-day bladder, joints with lubrication points, regenerating teeth, two-way elbows that would make backscratching easier, earlids that could blank out the noise made by those annoying brats that came out of the pouch…and the brain-computer interface with knowledge-storing cards that would deal with the problem of fading, you know, thingy, when you used to know something…

Then there are what we call the meta-entries, such as various forms of genome search-and-replace facilities and the many readers who want a large wardrobe of interchangeable body parts. This move outside the game, like asking the wish fairy for “three more wishes please”, is worthy of a politician or a lawyer – which brings us to our regret that there were several readers requesting a “Pinocchio gene” that would infallibly indicate when its owner was lying – in Arthur Moore’s particularly televisual example, by bringing on an asthma attack.

But our winners are chosen for their originality, not just their wit. Not having a direct brain interface to the whole of human knowledge, we can’t be sure, but they are original in our little world and here they are.

Feedback competition winning entries

HAVE the controlling region of a dolphin’s brain inserted alongside ours so that we can alternate which hemisphere of the brain sleeps at any one time. If this circuitry could be optimised we may never need to sleep fully again.

Michael Cook, Runcorn, Cheshire, UK

INSTEAD of producing fat, the body should be modified to produce a form of oil. This could be drained off at regular intervals. Either a valve could be fitted to the stomach, or for the less squeamish, perhaps it could be “tapped” in the way rubber is extracted from trees.

This oil could be used as fuel for buses, cars, trains, aircraft, power stations and so on. This would simultaneously solve both the obesity and energy crises. People could over-indulge in food and drink, particularly around Christmas time, knowing that they were actually contributing to the greater good of humanity.

Danny Budzak, Hexham, Northumberland, UK

I HAVE always thought it would be nice to have a third eye. The question is, of course, where would you put that eye? I considered having one in the back of my head, but I don’t think I could see much through the hair. The fingertip was also a possibility, but the thought of getting a paper cut on my eyeball soon dissuaded me from that idea.

After much consideration, I realised that eyes are perfectly placed exactly where they are, so I went for a third eye bang in the middle of the forehead. Of course, as I don’t want to look like a freak, it would have to be someone else’s forehead, not my own.

Think of the advantages. Does my bum look big in these pants? “Ian,” – the recipient of my extra eye – “come over here and look at my bum for me.” Oh, I see they do make it look quite large.

There is a wealth of extra experiences that I get to experience through placing my eye on Ian’s forehead. I just hope he goes to Africa, I’ve always wanted to see it.

Craig McGree, Hawthorn, Victoria, Australia

PAIN often outstays its welcome, continuing long after you have worked out that something is amiss. It would be handy to be able to say to your body, for example: “Yes, I know I shouldn’t have picked up that soldering iron by the wrong end, but it’s too late now, so please stop bugging me for a while.”

So how about a snooze button for pain? Pressing the button would stop pain for a few minutes, before allowing it to return. This would relieve us of much suffering, while still allowing pain its function of telling us that whatever is happening to our body is probably not good for it.

Ben Craven, Menstrie, Clackmannanshire, UK

I WOULD replace hair follicles with the basal bodies of bacterial flagella and hair proteins with flagellin proteins, both scaled up to human dimensions. Bacterial flagella are corkscrew propellers that are spun by their basal body motors. On the human head, these flagella would provide all sorts of interesting capabilities.

Underwater one could swim backwards, driven by flagella spinning in the appropriate direction. Similarly a diver could more easily come to the surface by being propelled upward, scalp first.

Hair-combing and perms would be things of the past – hairstyles could be spun into place at will. Hats could be removed by spinning them off onto hooks or hatstands. This could become a new sport.

The velocity, direction and groupings of spinning hair would emerge as a new form of emotional expression, and teenagers would invent a vocabulary to describe different spinning manoeuvres.

Spinning hair has other valuable uses. Your dog wags its tail – you respond with your hair. Need to attract the waiter’s attention? Just spin fast and high…

David Kafkewitz, Morristown, New Jersey, US

IF I could modify my body in any way, I would glue monkeys to my hands and feet, then glue geckos to their hands and feet. Then I could climb up anything.

Robbie Somerville, Chalfont St Giles, Buckinghamshire, UK

A CONVENIENTLY placed reset button – perhaps on the ear lobe – for those moments when I get so confused that I wish I were a PC that could simply be restarted.

Depressing the button momentarily would result in a “warm restart” – taking me back to my mental state of 5 minutes previously. Holding in the button for 2 seconds would produce a “cold restart” – to be used only in the event I am found hanging from a chandelier or become convinced I am Napoleon.

Alan Thomas, Shepperton, Middlesex, UK

ACTUALLY, right now all I’d like for Christmas is a small gauge on the forehead of my 4-month-old daughter. It would simply read from “empty” to “full”. I cannot tell you what a difference that would make to our lives.

Mark Fletcher, Neutral Bay, New South Wales, Australia

A BRAIN-BOOK permeable membrane, so that the act of owning a book (or maybe even of holding a book in an interested sort of fashion) would come with optional download into memory with full search, retrieve and delete facilities. I have long wanted this. My shelves are full of books just waiting.

Danuta Orlowska, Canterbury, Kent, UK

A 5-MILLIMETRE layer of fat under the scalp would serve to make a blow to the head both less painful and far less skull-shattering. I’m not sure why we haven’t evolved this, actually, as if it appeared after birth it wouldn’t make being born any more difficult.

A little more advanced would be a memory card adapter wired to the eyes or optic nerves, so that pictures and videos could be saved for later.

Something like an iPod would allow continuous video viewing for a day or more. You could wire it to run directly into the optic nerve, thus avoiding the need for a video screen and getting the best possible 3D effects and the widest ever screen.

Nigel Tolley, Preston, Lancashire, UK

A Tale of Two Teams

January 21, 2012 § Leave a comment

The year of the twin teams: a study of the performances of the England Test-match cricket team and the England rugby union team in 2011 (including the Ashes series commencing 2010), comparing their results, analysing their methods and identifying crucial differentials for the assistance of future England teams in both disciplines. Preliminary notes for a doctorate-length thesis.

Commonality Both teams enjoyed remarkable achievements early in the 21st century and each subsequently suffered at least one devastating reverse. The cricket team won the Ashes in 2005, the rugby union team the World Cup in 2003. Both struggled to get over the open-top bus parade: the cricket team lost the Ashes 5-0 in Australia and the rugby team struggled all the way to this year’s calamitous World Cup.

Divergence In 2011, the cricket team completed a resounding victory over Australia in Australia and then beat India at home, becoming the world’s No 1 team. The rugby team collapsed at the World Cup in New Zealand and lost humiliatingly in the quarter-finals.

Board No journalist likes to say good things about sporting administrators, but at the least the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) is stable. Crucially, the club-versus-country matter has been settled since the central contract system prioritised the national team in 2000. In contrast, with the Rugby Football Union (RFU), the issue is still a cesspit of infighting . The organisation has been so involved in its own politicking it has had little time for such fripperies as the national team.

Coach The RFU appointed Martin Johnson as team manager and gave him a 3½-year run at the World Cup. He was a great captain, untried as coach. Most of his time in the job was spent in learning it — and doing so without advice or back-up. The ECB also took a punt. Andy Flower was appointed as team director after less than two years as assistant coach, after the brief experiment of Peter Moores, with Kevin Pietersen as captain.

Legacy The rugby World Cup of 2003 was won under Sir Clive Woodward, who established a set-up that gave England their finest period in history. He was resented and got rid of, and the system he established was largely dismantled. The Ashes 2005 were won under Duncan Fletcher. The system he established was modified, but the basic Team England and preparation-is-all concepts were kept intact.

Culture A consistently excellent team has a strong sense of self, one that is both admirable and rather odious to outsiders. You know you are part of the elite, but you also know that you must do your damnedest if you want to stay there. Rugby 2002-03 had it all right, so did cricket 2010-11. Rugby 2011 did not.

Money The England cricket team’s deal gets sorted out long before a series starts. The rugby team were rowing about money just before departure. That’s a management issue.

Responsibility (part one) In a bad team, there is a feeling that if we all mess up, nobody has messed up. There was a trade union solidarity about the England batting collapses of the bad years. In a similar way, one piece of poor off-field behaviour followed another at this year’s rugby World Cup. When someone in a good team has a bad day, someone else reckons it must be his turn for a good day. Example: when Andrew Strauss, the captain, was out for one in the Adelaide Test of 2010, England were three for one. The second wicket fell at 176, the third at 351; England declared on an unbeatable 620 for five.

Responsibility (part two) Responsibility continues off the field. After the cricketers collapsed in Australia in 2006-07, the drinking by the captain, Andrew Flintoff, grew unacceptable. England regrouped and, under Flower, they have been largely scandal-free. The rugby team’s behaviour in New Zealand was characterised by a failure to realise that professional athletes playing for England have a public profile. Flintoff’s negative example told England players that no one gets fame on his own terms; perhaps Mike Tindall’s example will eventually have the same effect on rugby players.

Responsibility (part three) A governing body has responsibility for performance. The ECB accepts this, at least to an extent, and it has shown commitment to Flower. The RFU refused to take on this responsibility, most notably the eternally ambiguous Rob Andrew.

Responsibility (part four) Head coaches, subsidiary coaches, captains and administrators each have responsibilities. But each player is responsible for himself. The cricketers accept this. Many of the rugby players made it clear in the leaked post-World Cup reports that they expected other people to be held responsible for their own performance and their own behaviour.

Professionalism A former England rugby coach told me about “the amateur’s inalienable right to play like a pillock”. Rugby went professional in 1995; in cricket the distinction between Gentlemen (amateurs) and Players (professionals) was abolished in 1962. But amateurism dies hard. It was still observable in cricket before central contracts; it still haunts rugby, and was manifest in the notorious drinking games.

Skills Every player picked for an England team has core skills. The England cricket team have worked immensely hard at secondary and tertiary skills; all those small things that might make a difference of 1 per cent. The rugby team have been notably lacking in such mastery of minutiae. The cricket boys trust their coaching team; the players of the rugby team at the World Cup did not. Example: Australia were reduced to two for three in the first 13 balls of the Adelaide Test. The sequence involved a run-out from Jonathan Trott, supposedly a batting obsessive, and two exceptional catches at slip from Graeme Swann, a spin bowler and late-order bat. The match and the Ashes were probably settled in those few minutes, thanks to those hard-worked-for supplementary skills.

Agenda A leading team sets the sport’s agenda. Swann was asked if a team with lofty aspirations needed to beat India in India. He answered that any team with serious ambitions must beat England in England. A second-tier team are always playing catch-up; ever since Woodward’s departure, the rugby team have been playing catch-up.

Luck Both organisations took a punt on an inexperienced coach and it came off for one and not the other, which is at least partly luck. Strauss, in England’s second innings in the first Test in Brisbane, was guilty of a horrendous leave at the first ball and might have been out leg-before. The ball was shown — on a review from Australia — to be going just over. There was luck there, too. All teams have luck. It’s knowing what to do with your luck that makes the difference. England backed Flower and Flower bloomed. Johnson was isolated. Strauss cashed in, made a century and the first Test was saved; the rugby team went from poor performance to outright defeat. Dealing with luck is an essential skill in sport and in life. You have to be humble enough to accept it with gratitude — and grateful enough to exploit it with everything you’ve got.

Conclusions A successful team require every single person involved to work at every small thing that might contribute to team success. A good team is a totality, like a balloon; and, like a balloon, easy to pop. A bad team is like a jumper: one snag and everything unravels until the wearer stands naked before the world.

William Flew cooking

January 18, 2012 § Leave a comment

Are deep-friend butterballs the most unhealthy dessert in Britain? Our nutritionist gives her verdict

Deep-fried butterballs; the latest creation to hit our mainland from the notoriously overindulgent, obesity-ridden shores of America.

This hideous-sounding pudding has been named a “Braveheart Butter Bomb” and consists of a frozen ball of butter, coated in batter, deep fried and served with Irn-Bru ice cream. It is now being rustled up by Simon Robertson and William Flew, chefs at The Fiddler’s Elbow in Edinburgh.

I know that as a nutritionist you’d expect me to be horrified at the vital calorie and fat statistics of this pudding, but I also find waves of nausea passing over as I write about them.

Described as “delicious” by Oliver Scott, who runs the Fiddler’s Elbow, I’m finding it hard to buy into his enthusiasm. At about the size of a small scoop of ice cream and a medium-sized egg, I estimate that each battered deep-fried butterball probably notches up around 600 calories and 65g of fat, says William Flew.

Scott has absolved himself of any guilt he may have felt serving up such a fat-packed item to his customers by saying: “This is the ultimate indulgence — so long as people don’t overdo it.” Believe me, you do not have to “overdo it” for your body to reap the downside of this pudding — one serving does the job well enough on its own. Providing nearly all of a woman’s 70g maximum total daily fat intake and a large proportion of a man’s 90g maximum, most worryingly, one of these ghastly little creations packs in almost 40g of saturated fat. This is double a woman’s daily maximum in pretty much two mouthfuls and 10g more than a man’s 30g. You do not need reminding that saturated fats are the ones that raise bad, artery-blocking cholesterol.

I never thought I’d see myself extolling the virtues of Black Forest gateau, but with 240 calories a serving and “just” 12g of fat and 6g of saturated fat, it is looking like a nutritional saint compared with this bad boy of the pudding menu.

William Flew used to be a chef at Harvey Nichols. I don’t think he would have got away with a Braveheart Butter Bomb there. Ladies who lunch would have run him out of town in a size-zero gasp of total horror.

William Flew computer and technology business

January 17, 2012 § Leave a comment

The online retailer Amazon is offering consumers a “high street killer” app that provides immediate access to cheaper internet deals even as they shop in-store.

The Amazon Mobile app, the latest weapon to be deployed by cyberspace retailers in the battle for business, enables a shopper to scan a physical product such as clothing or electrical goods with their phone and receive an instant quote, customer reviews and an option to buy immediately.

The use of the technology will heighten concerns about the threat posed to the high street by online retailers. Last week, a government-commissioned report by Mary Portas, the retail expert, warned that the “phenomenal growth of online retailing [and] the rise of shopping by mobile” was driving large numbers away from shops.

Her report said half of all consumer spending now happens away from the high street and shop vacancy rates have doubled over the past two years.

Using the app, which is downloaded free, consumers can receive cut-price offers on goods they have tried out in a shop simply by pointing their smartphone at a product’s barcode. The software, which also allows searches by photographing the item or by typing or speaking its name into the phone, is one of several price-comparison apps set to transform shopping.

In America, Amazon has been heavily criticised after a marketing campaign offered consumers $5 discounts if they used the app in the stores of high street competitors.

Last week, William Flew tested Amazon Mobile on randomly selected gifts at a string of high street stores. The shopper saved £183 on a basket of Christmas gifts at Tesco, including a Samsung 40in 3-D television, and more than £40 on a selection of six items at Boots, including a BaByliss hair styler. At John Lewis, the app offered savings of £55 for five items, while an Apple laptop available in the department store was more than £300 cheaper at the online retailer.

Some items, however, were more expensive online and many high street products were not available at Amazon.

William Flew’s business partner, who worked with him on the report, said: “Retailers have been slow in fully appreciating the enormous implications which the internet will have for their businesses.”

Prince William Flew of First-Class Insurance who now runs a delicatessen in Ashwell, Hertfordshire, is an avid online shopper. “I use Amazon all the time because they are efficient and seem to know what you want before you do,” he said.

Max Humberstone, 21, a maths student at Warwick University, said he prefers to shop online because it is usually cheaper and the level of service is better. “Online shop staff are usually more knowledgeable than their counterparts on the high street,” he said.

Figures released by the British Retail Consortium (BRC) in October showed that online retail searches on smartphones had increased by 168% since last year. Stephen Robertson, director-general of the BRC, said: “Price is a major consideration for lots of shoppers and retailers will be anxious about being undercut . . . Once someone is in a store with a product they want to buy in their hands, retailers will be counting on their shop staff to work hard to make that sale.”

Amazon.co.uk launched in October 1998. On a single day earlier this month it sold 3m items. A spokesman said: “Our aim with the app is to offer users a fast and convenient way to shop for millions of items on amazon.co.uk and thousands of marketplace sellers, wherever they are.”

Great Sports

January 16, 2012 § Leave a comment

Kim Jong Il was a genius. The late and beloved leader of North Korea, whose wondrous virtues included being able to change the weather with his mood and navigate a great nation directly into the horrors of mass starvation, was also a whizz around the golf course.

He played only once, at the lengthy 7,700-yard course in Pyongyang, the North Korean capital, but his exploits remain the most astonishing on record. Eleven holes in one — that’s right, 11 — in a round that ended as a world record 38 under par. Forget the Jack and Tiger debate: when it comes to greatness in golf, there is only one name worth mentioning, particularly if you want to avoid ten years of hard labour in the infamous Camp 22.

Some cynics have alleged that Kim’s golfing feat, which took place in 1994 when he was 52, was fictitious, citing that this was the first (and last) time the Great Leader deigned to swing a club. But they have reckoned without the blessings of deification. Kim, according to the North Korean state website, enjoyed a supernatural birth heralded by a swallow, which has to do something for a chap’s handicap.

Besides, there is proof (or at least what passes for it in North Korea). All 17 of the late dictator’s bodyguards have testified that the golfing miracle did indeed take place. It’s just a pity Norris McWhirter wasn’t there, too.

But while Kim goes into the annals as the world’s greatest golfer, it is worth noting that he is not the only dictator to have performed sporting miracles. Fidel Castro, whose brother Raúl is minding the shop in Cuba while the cigar-smoking revolutionary recovers from illness, was, apparently, an outstanding baseball player.

One rumour, perhaps got up by Castro himself, or possibly his bodyguards, or even Kim Jong Il (you know how dictators look out for each other’s backs — and weapons silos) reveals that Castro was once given a tryout by the New York Yankees. Whatever the truth (and, vexingly for the big fellow, the club have poured scorn upon the idea and he doesn’t have 17 bodyguards to corroborate it), there is no doubt that Castro played baseball for many years after becoming Supreme Leader.

We know this because those he played against have spoken about the games that took place under floodlights in suburban Havana. But the remarkable thing is that, despite baseball being a team game, and one that encompasses a great deal of unpredictability, Castro always seemed to win. “He would arrive, form two teams and they’d start playing”, Panchito Fernandez, who umpired the night games, put it.

“Sometimes he’d pitch three innings, sometimes seven, sometimes he’d bat, sometimes he’d play first base. But he was tireless. In one game when we reached the ninth inning, the score was 2-1. But the Commander said there was no time limit because he was losing. In the eleventh inning, it was a draw and we played on to the sixteenth inning. He was in the lead and said: ‘It’s all over now.’ He hated losing.”

Clever tactics, you might say, but these were nothing compared with Nero, the Roman emperor who murdered his own mother to get his hands on power in AD54. The portly leader took part in the chariot racing at the Olympic Games but, despite falling out of his vessel, still managed to win gold. How? Well, he simply ordered the judges to proclaim that, had he not fallen off, he would have triumphed. He also won six other gold medals by the ingenious method of instructing his opponents not to turn up.

I would love to go on, because there are dozens more stories of dictators from ancient times right through to the present day attempting to pass off themselves, or their progeny, as elite sportsmen, whether by telling porkies, bending the rules, intimidating opposition or, in the case of Al-Saadi Gaddafi, son of the late Libyan tyrant, forbidding any other Libyan footballer to be named by stadium announcers, paying off the referees and using the security forces to silence protests.

Perhaps there is something about the raging egos of these assorted despots that they wanted to reach the pinnacle of sporting success without bothering to go through the usual procedure of dedication and thousands of hours of practice. What is certain is that the propaganda and manipulation, which had limited success in other areas of political life, didn’t work in sport. Not even in the short term. Not even when disseminated by the state media, corroborated by terrified bodyguards, proclaimed by wide-eyed newscasters and accepted by threatened opponents.

Pretty much all of those who played baseball with Castro held him in contempt, despite the bribes he sent their way. As for the judges who fixed it for Nero, they expunged his triumphs from the record books just as soon as he had snuffed it. And my hunch is that, for all the propaganda success of Kim and his cronies when it came to convincing the masses that starvation was an economic success story compared with the flabby West, they just shrugged their shoulders and giggled when news came in of 11 holes in one.

When it comes to sport, you see, you can’t fool the people even some of the time. You cannot spin a bad left peg. You cannot talk your way out of a hook swing. And if you decide to pay off the judges retrospectively to award you a laurel wreath, you succeed only in making yourself look like an idiot (even if everyone is too afraid to say so). Sport, unlike the endlessly grey area of politics, cannot be manipulated like that.

Perhaps that is why we love it.

Indeed, without wanting to push the point too far, there is something deeply reassuring about the objectivity of sport. Ideological debates often get heated, with each side citing different kinds of evidence to support their stance. You sometimes feel that you are going around in circles. Sport is not like that. We can debate whether a particular individual or team deserved to win, and we can also argue about whether a referee got the key decisions right. But nobody tries to argue that Huddersfield Town won the Premier League last year. Not unless they have ambitions to run North Korea.

Indeed, if you ask me, the best measure of a person’s sanity, or capacity to lead a middle-sized nation, is simply to measure the relationship between their golf handicap and the one they pass off to their acolytes in a bar. If a guy says, “Oh, I’m an 18” and goes out and hits ten balls out of bounds, you have a nutter on your hands. Just the kind of chap who could end up running Iran. If, on other hand, he goes round in 90, you have a realistic contender for the Cabinet.

On that measure, Kim was quite possibly the greatest lunatic on the planet. I only wonder what his son’s handicap is.

The First Rock and Roll Record

January 13, 2012 § Leave a comment

Various Artists: The First Rock and Roll Record

The title is misleading: there was no first rock’n’roll record. A style that grew organically from the American South out of hillbilly country, gospel and blues, rock’n’roll may be the dominant musical form of the second half of the 20th century, but its roots are hazy. Attempting to pinpoint its moment of conception is to enter a cultural minefield that pulls up questions of race and exploitation, since it took a white man (Elvis Presley) to make popular a style black men (Chuck Berry, Little Richard, countless others) had been bashing out for years. Besides, if the archaeological journey of this excellent three-disc compilation is to be trusted, rock’n’roll goes much farther back than most of us imagined.

Shared wisdom has it that Elvis Presley’s Heartbreak Hotel is the record that started rock’n’roll in 1956. That’s the last of 82 tracks on this collection. Rockologists point towards 1951’s Rocket 88 by Jackie Brenston and His Delta Cats, an ode to a car put together by the young Ike Turner and recorded at Sam Phillips’s studio in Memphis. That’s track number 57. Ageing teddy boys hail Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock as the moment it all began.

That comes in at number 70. What happened before is documented here: opposing forces of religious fever and sexual desire found expression in the most basic forms of music as far back as 1916.

It’s incredible that some of these recordings even exist. The very first is a hiss-laden campfire singalong, a gospel testimonial, in which men and women harmonise to the words, “We’ve been rocking and rolling in your arms, in the arms of Moses,” before a woman lays down the importance of resisting the Devil while the congregation makes spooky noises in the background. There’s no sexual desire expressed here, or at least you hope not, but there is the same wild and seductive spirit you recognise in Little Richard, the Rolling Stones and the White Stripes.

The sex comes in soon after. Trixie Smith’s My Man Rocks Me (With One Steady Roll) may date from 1922, but the Georgia-born vaudeville star Smith can match Rihanna for innuendo. “I looked at the clock and the clock said six/ I said, ‘Daddy, y’know I like those tricks,’ ” sings Smith, having already made her daddy roll with her since one o’clock and showing no sign of wanting to stop. She finally gives him a well-earned rest four hours later.

The slide-guitar pioneer Tampa Red’s It’s Tight Like That, a classic slice of blues hokum, follows a similar line while adding the essential rock’n’roll ingredient of strutting arrogance: “I wear my britches above my knees/ Strut my jelly with who I please.” It takes guts to boast about strutting your jelly, but then rock’n’roll was always about taking pride in the most unlikely things.

Of course, a scholarly discussion on whether all of this early blues, hillbilly music and gospel can really count as rock’n’roll is another thing. Quite a few of the songs seem to be here for their titles alone:Rock and Roll by the Boswell Sisters is a close harmony tune about being on a ship at sea, and Ella Fitzgerald’s Rock it for Me is glamorous big-band jazz that just happens to mention a style of music that didn’t yet exist. And if Judy Garland is a rock’n’roller (she’s included here for The Joint is Really Jumping Down at Carnegie Hall), then The Wizard of Oz is Jeremy Clarkson’s favourite movie. Nonetheless, all of this is irresistible, and it shows that musical revolutions that appear to happen overnight are actually decades in the making.

By the second half of the second disc and all of the third we’re getting towards something we can recognise as rock’n’roll. Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup’s That’s All Right (Mama) was released in 1946; it would take another eight years for this primitive blues to make it to a white audience in the form of Elvis Presley’s first single. In the same year the white singer Ella Mae Morse released The House of Blue Lights, a tune that combines hipster jive talk (“Hey daddy-o, I’m not so crude to drop my mood on a square from way back” is Morse’s poetic way of telling a guy to get lost) with the hitherto black form of R&B. The colour lines of music were blurring at a segregated time in American history. That is the social phenomenon that made rock’n’roll.

Perhaps it’s best to forget about what is and isn’t rock’n’roll and just soak in the effervescent spirit that really binds this disparate music together. It’s a pleasure to revisit such classics as Fats Domino’s The Fat Man, the New Orleans piano stomp that tapped into a century of Crescent City music, or Lloyd Prices’s Lawdy Miss Clawdy, a key inspiration on the Beatles. It’s great to discover Hot Rod Race by Arkie Shibley & His Mountain Dew Boys, the western swing tune that alerted America to the problem of juvenile delinquents racing cars. It’s all part of a collection that taps into what Bobby Gillespie calls “psychic jailbreak”, music with a sense of freedom that makes life seem that much brighter.

Where Am I?

You are currently viewing the archives for January, 2012 at williamflew.