Rock Music - For All the People I Wish I Could Be

Rock music is great. Really great. Like many of the person (sic) who might read this, I have my own ideas about what I think makes it great, and believe myself to be right. And, of course, everyone has an equal claim on holding the correct opinion; that is to say, no one has the correct opinion, because there's no such thing as an absolute truth in art.

And that's a fact that I enjoy immensely. There's a brilliant, chaotic, anarchic freedom to knowing that nobody can ever, definitively, argue that Guns N' Roses are any better than Boyzone, Steps, or 5ive (should I be ashamed for having spelt correctly?). For the record, I'd almost always choose those bands over Guns N' Roses, without particularly liking any of them. But that's because, in my opinion, 1980s cock rock is absolutely rubbish.

Just realised I've been a bit British in my examples, so if you happen to be one of my many international readers(!), then instead of Boyzone, Steps and 5ive, read 3T or Aaron Carter (or, if you're French, 2 Be 3 or Worlds Apart). Before my knowledge of the World's boybands becomes too creepy, I'll move on (perhaps too late, I fear).

Let's move away from boybands and back to rock. More precisely, to my favourite rock band and the man pictured at the top, Gerard Way. He's the lead singer of My Chemical Romance. They've been my favourite band for five or six years now, and throughout that time I've wondered why. Their normal fanbase is thought to be sixteen year-olds (more female than male), although I suspect that's a bit of an inaccurate generalisation. Either way, though, there are plenty of similar bands around that I don't remotely like, so quite why I love them as much as I do has been a mystery to me.

Having bought, and loved, each of their first three albums a little more than the last, it was only when they brought out their fourth "Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys" that it dawned on me. It's not exactly a profound realisation, but what this band is for me (and, I suspect, a few other fans) is pure escapism. They - along with the personas they adopt in this album - are everything I sometimes wish I could be, but know I never could.

Before I properly qualify that statement, a quick word on the music. In "Danger Days", MCR have produced what I think is the best rock album of the year, and probably for a lot longer than that. It's incredibly varied, which I like, and hints at many influences, without seemeing particularly derivative of any. It's a bit less hard than fans might have come to expect from previous albums, or indeed than the unitiated might imagine. And yet it still has their characteristic edge, largely thanks to Gerard's voice, and its fantastic, outskirts-of-sanity feel. I genuinely believe he has one of the most fertile minds in popular culture today.

I've embedded (at the bottom) the album's lead single, Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na), to give you a feel of what it's like. The video also introduces the concept that drives the album - a gang of outlaws on the run in a post-apocalyptic America, where "The Aftermath is Secondary".

And this brings me back to my realisation, that what makes me love this band, and this album, so much is that they live out an attitude and way of living that I'd love to hold, but never could.

Trust me, I would love to go through life thinking that the aftermath is secondary. Of course, literally it is - but not in terms of its importance (come on, you know what I mean!). I'm just too guilty to think like that. To quote Mark Corrigan in Peep Show:

"I feel guilty about everything, from the pollution caused by Chinese industrialisation, to not wearing some pairs of boxers as much as others."

So that's why I find MCR, and the characters they create, so alluring. Much of my mind longs to go through life with an attitude of "f**k it all" defiance, in true rock and roll fashion. But, deep down, I know that if I ever want to do my bit to make the world better, especially with its survival, as we know it, in doubt in the coming century, that attitude has to stay confined to my fantasies.

So, MCR, thanks for the escape!

Starting Something I Can Never Finish

Today I'm going to talk about something I've meant to talk about for a long time. The problem is that, as a topic, it's rather too big to cover in any one post. So consider this the start of a mini series - a blog with in a blog. Broadly, this mini-series will cover religion (more precisely, Christianity).

Before I go too far, I should declare an interest: I'm a practising Christian, from the Anglican (Church of England) denomination. I worship at a fairly traditional parish church.

I'm going to start this series by talking about a story from the news this week that angered me intensely. To summarise, the Church of England - my church - looks set to allow gay clergy to become bishops, provided they remain celibate.

Now let me declare a second interest. I think that this proposal is complete, utter, absolute arse gravy (thanks to Stephen Fry for that phrase).

Before you think badly of me, let me be clear: The reason I hate this announcement, the reason it fills me with rage, is not because it goes too far, but because it doesn't go far enough. What the hell is that celibacy bit doing there? Who is that for?

I'm pretty sure that most people who read this will find the idea of forcing celibacy on gay clergy abhorrent (straight vicars in the Anglican Church are perfectly free to marry, and have all manner of sexy fun). Actually, why confine my assertion to the small demographic that are my reader? I'm pretty sure most right-thinking members of society would find the idea abhorrent. It goes aginst decency, common sense - for God's sake, it goes against the laws of this country. And yet, for some reason, it would seem that those at the top in the Church of England think this is the right thing to do.

At the moment I'm disconsolate. It honestly feels like the Archbishop of Canterbury (who I previously respected), along with others in power, is trying to kill the church.

I always liked the Church of England because, compared to other denominations, it was progressive. It also seemed able to unite people with a wide range of ideas and opinions. I still think it should try and do that, but I draw the line at trying to encompass ideas that are simply not christian.

What you learn from day one in christian teaching is that Jesus (the ultimate poster boy for our religion) did not discriminate. Think of the Good Samaritan. Think about of the woman prostitute he considered a close friend. He didn't treat them any differently. He saw them as people, no better and no worse than any other person. I'm astoundingly sure that, if he were around today, he'd not discriminate in the way that the C. of E. decision-makers are threatening to. Furthermore, I think he'd go and kick some metophrical ass.

Apart from the obvious discrimination, the worst thing about all this is the message it sends about what Anglican Christianity is all about. Contrary to this evidence, most Anglican Christians are forward-thinking, compassionate people who are embarrassed by such discrimination. Yes - of course there are discriminatory idiots who call themselves christian, but I strongly believe the proportion of them is no greater than the proportion of similar people in wider society. It just happens that some of them are in positions of significance.

I briefly wondered whether to boycott the church - to stop going in protest. But I've realised how counterproductive that would be. I'm going to make my feelings known, certainly. But I'm not going to leave my church to the biggots. It's my job, and the job of other moderate Christians, to make sure the view of the Church (as seen by the wider world) is a balanced one - not dominated by one extreme, idiotic viewpoint.

And so it begins.

Billy No Talent

If you were at school in the nineties, and are a fan of noughties punk, then you'll enjoy the title pun. I really should try and cater for a wider audience.

I went to concert this morning, given by an organist friend of mine. Though it isn't the main thrust of what I'm writing, I should add that, for the record, it was excellent - a programme of pieces that demonstrated both his talent, and the versatility of the the instrument he was playing, quite brilliantly.

But like I said, that's not why I'm writing today. Rather, being at the concert reminded me of an incident I'd forgotten about until now.

In this incident, I was in the audience for a play. (This blog post is making me sound like quite the cultural aesthete, n'est pas?!) Though it's unimportant, I may as well add, for completeness's sake, that the play was called Clock Heart Boy. In the play, a constant on-stage presence was a pianist, who accompanied the action with what seemed to be improvised tinklings (he wasn't reading any music) on a general theme. It was certainly an impressive display of musicianship.

So impressive, indeed, that it prompted a girl behind me to remark, to her friend (who agreed), that:

"There's nothing hotter than talent."

At that moment my heart sank. There's nothing wrong with their opinion on the face of it. After all, it makes a nice change for intellect to be forefront in a discussion of desirability. But I knew instinctively that they weren't telling the whole truth.

I suspect that what they really meant was:

"There's nothing hotter than some, very specific types of talent, of which proficient piano playing is one."

I know what you're probably thinking - that I'm getting dangerously un-scientific about all of this, and that, along with my last post's hunches I'm slipping down a slope, away from evidence-based reasoning, and into a big pile of rant.

But I'm almost certain that the talents they referred to included music (and not even all music - playing the tuba, for example, would not count), art (i.e. writing poetry, acting etc)... and that's about it. Basically, the list of permissible skills comprises any you might associate with a forlorn, sensitive and misunderstood sort of a guy. If you were to create and name such a person, he would surely be called Mr Darcy ScissorDepp - every heterosexual thinking girl's dream.

So where does that leave the rest of us? I, for example, feel I have certain talents, but I'm not sure that being able to make my eyes really wide, precisely date books just from their font and front cover, make a mean spreadsheet or normalise a three-dimensional complex wave function make me very desirable. I'm lucky though: I've found someone who's attracted to me - although I suspect it's in spite of, rather than because of, the talents listed sbove.

But what can be done for the less fortunate? After much thought, I believe this is a problem with which science can help. Well, not so much science as a good survey. A comprehensive list needs to be drawn up of good talents and bad talents. I'll start, and over the years - as soon as someone other than me reads this blog - it can be added to, until everyone, before taking up a hobby (trying to develop a talent) can refer to the list and see if it's worthwhile.

To get the ball rolling:

Singing, guitar playing (rock) and diary-keeping are all good. Playing cor anglais, speaking Klingon and blogging to no-one are all bad (of course, the distinction between diary-keeping and blogging to no-one is key, and cruel).

Of course, we'd best hope this project isn't too successful. After all without the spreadsheet enthusiasts and their like, where would we be as a society? In a disorganised mess is the probable answer, where the world's pianos fall into ruin, and the talents of the Mr Darcy ScissorDepps of this world go with them.

The Pitfalls of Hindsight

First, an alert: If you don't like self-involved navel gazing, click away now. I assure you I dislike it too, but as you'll see if you read on, it's sort of the point of today's post. Or, at least, it's an unavoidable result of it (and over every other post).

My last post was my first in a while. As such, I'd forgotten what I'd written about in the past, so I took the opportunity to read back over my previous posts.

Doing so was a big mistake.

I should have known it would be. You see, for as long as I can remember, time has had a debilitating effect on how I view my actions. That is to say that, almost without fail, anything I ever do, say, or write, I will come to hate.

It doesn't matter how much I've enjoyed something at the time - how funny I think I've been, or how well I think I've done it. Almost as soon as the action concerned is complete, I regret it. And it's bloody annoying.

There are, as you'd imagine, plenty of examples of this effect. The contents of this blog (and, soon eneough I suspect, this very post) for a start. But one of my most regrettable regrets is my brief time as a singer in a band. I absolutely loved it (and was proud of it) at the time. Now, though, I can't look back on it without painful prangs of embarrassment. One of my favourite sets of memories sullied. There are plenty of other things. Dancing like an idiot on nights out. Not dancing like an idiot on others (as you can see, the effect is indiscriminate). Pretty much any expression of strong feeling or emotion. The list goes on.

I suspect that I'm far from alone in this feeling. It seems such a nautral reaction that I can only assume it's normal. And that brings me to the point of this post. I've got a sciencey sort of brain, so I like to think there must be a logical reason for this tendency to self-hate - that it must benefit us in some sort of way.

My conclusion, having done no studies of existing research, or any futher reading (come to think of it, "hunch" would be a more appropriate word than "conclusion") is that this response must be an evolutionary thing. That over millions of years, our brains have been wired for self-betterment. We're more likely to survive to breeding and child-rearing age if we learn from our mistakes, and nothing makes us want to learn from our mistakes like fear of coming across as an idiot.

Nevertheless, I wish things were different. I wish I could be more like my cat. He climbed a ladder for the first time today, and I'm pretty sure he won't look back and wish he'd climbed it a different way, or think himself a complete bum balloon for even trying. He'll just enjoy the moment, and keep climbing it until he finds a new world to conquer.

So, after this exhaustive(sic) analysis, at least I know there's a reason for this most annoying of traits. But I'm not sure it's made me feel any better about it.

In fact, I'm almost certain that it'll be just another thing to regret.

Make Sport Not War

I've not blogged for a while, as you can plainly see. I'm not sure, then, what the driving factor is behind this new post. It could be guilt at having let things slip, or that I've happened upon an evening with nothing to do.

While these are, no doubt, both contributory factors, I had intended to write about an issue that's excercised me for some time

Before I start though, I should make something clear: I know that what I'm about to say makes me sound like a bit of an a***hole. I'm pretty sure that as soon as I've posted, I'll regret not keeping these feelings to myself. But I'm banking on the my zero readership to allow me to use this simply as an opportunity to form my opinions on the issue.

Without further ado, then, this is the article that sparked this (up to now) ramble:

Olympic Tickets offered to UK Armed Forces Members

I've added the link for reference, but in fact the title tells you most of what you need to know.

Basically, 10,000 free tickets for the Olympics have been reserved for people from the Armed Forces. Now, there's no doubt that that's a very nice gesture, but it led me to wonder why they've been singled out for this treat.

This isn't, in any way, an anti-army, or anti-soldier argument. There's no doubting the sacrifices some soldiers have made, or the bravery they all possess in knowing that, at any time, they could be sent to some of the most dangerous places in the world.

It would seem, then, that this donation has been made as an acknowledgement of the public service they've performed. A thank you for their work in the field. And while that may be deserved, I can't help thinking that nurses, doctors, policemen, paramedics, and even teachers might be equally as deserving and, in some cases, worse paid, that the soldiers in receipt of this gesture. And I think it would be hard to argue that their contributions for the good of society are any less significant.

I doubt that these professions will be honoured in the same way, and in this lies my problem. The reason I think the Armed Forces have been singled out is that a false link has been made between sport and war, and it's a link that does justice to neither. War is not sport. War is true horror. It hurts, slaughters, destroys, and scars. It's a stinking, unglamourous mess.

Sport is unscripted theatre. A test of the human body's limits, yes. But the reason it exists and thrives is because it entertains us. Like the best art, it allows us to experience the apparent extremes of emotion in an arena that simply doesn't matter. In that way, it couldn't be more different to war.

And yet a link is increasingly made between the two. It's most prominent in football, not only with Armed Forces day (where troops are invited for free to Premier League grounds) but in the vocabulary of war that's often used to describe incidents in football matches. Just because both are practised, in the majority, by men in their 20s and 30s, doesn't mean they bear comparison.

Of course courage, bravery, and other worthy qualities should be honoured. But I'm not sure soldiers, as a whole, should be singled out when so many people, in so many professions, make huge sacrifices to make life better.

And if they are to be singled out for praise, I only wish it were in some other way - one that doesn't trivialise their work, or leave a popular form of entertainment compared to humanity's most shameful past-time.