the way you make me feel

A million bloggers are frantically typing up hasty tributes right now, so I'll add my two cents before hitting the sack tonight. The world's greatest pop icon has died.

Everyone of my generation and upwards has a story about a Michael Jackson song. Mine is a carbon copy of a guy the BBC just interviewed at Glastonbury: at age five or six, my first pop music cassette tape was Bad, swiped from my mum and stuck on repeat beside my bed.

One of my surviving memories of my grandfather, who passed when I was ten, goes thusly: "Why, who's your favourite musician?" "Michael Jackson." "Och, why are you listening to that rubbish?"

Unlike most, Thriller never did it for me. My Jacko was, to my loss perhaps, the later one, the eccentric white guy, the guy who sang huge modern anthems like Smooth Criminal and Black or White, whose every performance was bigger and better than the last one, to the point where he seemed unstoppable. But I don't think I lose out for this; he still defined that type of pop music for the 90s, as he had done for much of the 80s with the funkier, bigger stuff. And regardless of the horrific personal side of his existence, the lasting effect of Jackson the icon, Jackson the musician, Jackson the cultural phenomenon, is given no more fitting tribute than the way that the world is at this moment standing still to acknowledge him.

But when it comes down to it, it's really all about a little boy listening to a cassette tape, chanting every word along to Man In The Mirror, pulling silly faces, and then doing it all over again. The man - and his problems - are gone; but the music will really live on.

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ball games

Wimbledon is back, and with it an excuse to slope off to the TV every hour for a quick top-up of volleying and grunting. A great story from yesterday caught my eye though - the second round match between Michael Llodra and Tommy Haas had to be abandoned shortly after Llodra was unable to stop himself hurtling into a ball girl, clipping her and smacking himself into the umpire's chair. She was fine and Llodra tried to return to playing, but had to retire.

With proceedings brought to an unexpected halt, Tommy Haas saved the day by continuing to play with each of the ball boys and girls in turn around the court. I don't think it was an attempt to look good, though he did - just a nice guy giving some young adults an amazing opportunity. This clip from the BBC coverage is fantastic -I particularly love how the commentary team and the producers, clearly recognising that this was both great TV, and a bit of unique kindness, are so complimentary to the kids and the circumstances. The first boy is my favourite - he looks like he's just won the lottery -and been told he can blow the lot on toys and gadgets.

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long may you reign

One man production machine Will from Bandwidth Films seems to churn out material at a rate of knots these days - far from those lazy spring days of uni when we all seemed to only be in it for the raw inspiration. [This clause neither makes sense, nor has the redeeming feature of being anywhere close to true.]

Following a theme that I came across in the great Lisa Hannigan video for I Don't Know [posted here, June 11th], they're currently doing a series of videos called 'In Stores Now', where fine Northern Irish talent set up shop in... well, shops... and indulge in a bit of guerilla music video production. My favourite one so far is this week's - John Shelly & The Creatures in a chip shop. The eagle-eared out there might recognise the song from the recent Discover Northern Ireland advert (you know, the painful one with the muppet taking his girlfriend to the North Coast to propose...)

IN STORES NOW#3: JOHN SHELLY & THE CREATURES from bandwidth films on Vimeo.

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postbox artwork

Writer and cartoonist Andy Riley has done an awful lot of work, but for me he gets the elevation to some level of genius for two or three projects: the third season of Black Books, and his two sets of books as a cartoonist, the Bunny Suicides, and Great Lies To Tell Small Kids.

So I was pretty thrilled when something popped through my letterbox this morning...






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moyles on church

Someone had mentioned this to me previously, but I just came across the video via Super Simbo's shiny new blog. Check it out: The Chris Moyles Show team discuss a Pentecost Sunday service Chris had seen the day before on BBC1. I watched a good bit of said service, and it was indeed pretty representative of many bigger modern pentecostal or Christian Life churches. It's really interesting to hear Chris's honest perspective, particularly as his (dire) autobiography made reference to a very traditional Catholic upbringing, against which he reacted.

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reasons to go to church

Great video...



...but I'm not impressed by the message, graphics or intentions alone. I'm impressed because they're from Vegas!

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EDIT: Ooh-err... this other one sadly hints a bit of Prosperity Gospel... but maybe that's just my mistake.

If you're not sure what I mean by that phrase, the Prosperity Gospel is the idea that, "now I believe in God, Jesus is going to make all things well."

This is such a falsehood I won't even begin to try to expand it - but it's particularly popular in many American churches (see the phenomenally tool-like (I mean that as an elaborate insult) ministry of Joel Osteen, or much of the GOD channel's output. These guys are my brothers and sisters in Christ, but I say that through gritted teeth.) In fact, I'd go as far to say - though this is me saying it - that once you get God, things can be harder than you could ever imagine. I know they have been for me and many I encounter... but if you want to discuss that, we need a couple of sofas and a whole lot of hot chocolate up in here.

I realise the edit is now longer than the original post, so I'll stop. For an interesting, if not completely understandable if you have no faith background, great wee explanation of this notion, check out this video which uses a John Piper soundbite.

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i don't know

Saw this and had one thought: Andy Good would like it! Perhaps the guys can utilise the ethos on their upcoming trip to Nashville, Tennessee.



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it might get loud

It Might Get Loud is an upcoming doc starring Jimmy Page, Dave "The Edge" Evans and Jack White; the three come together to talk about guitars.

That's it.

Sounds frickin' awesome, and looks frickin' awesome too.

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get stuck in a (picture) book

A couple of thoughts, charged by the annoucement today of Anthony Browne as the new Children's Laureate. A good choice; Browne's Gorilla book in particular is one I remember myself from my early years, and judging by the number of awards his works appear to have won, familiar to many of you good people as well.

Browne comments, in the BBC clip I've linked to above, about the idea that illustrated childrens literature is disappearing from the lives of many little 'uns, as parents move them on to reading denser texts at a younger age. It's a horrific thought; can you imagine growing up with The Very Hungry Caterpillar? Maybe you can - maybe you did! I certainly didn't. We had a good stack of picture books when I was wee, bolstered by myself and my younger sister being close enough in age to be tossing them around at the same time. It is a love that stayed with me - see my excitement regarding the upcoming Jonze-fest that is the filmic Where The Wild Things Are (published April 13th, 2009). I continue to often give grown-up people quality picture books as gifts - as my better half can attest to, as she has quite the stack (including a couple of hand-drawn efforts) at this point.

Picture books are magical. The immense talent it takes to fuse understandable but exciting narrative with great artwork is more or less beyond me. But more fundamentally, they introduce young and old to a world they will not access, creative thinking they will not be used to, if they stick with purely written word. Observing, processing, and visually testing material are conscious and unconscious processes that educators and workers strive to instill in the young - but picture books can do this. If you ever spend any time with little people, or have enough good fortune to have grown some of your own, just think of how many times kids return to their favourite picture books. It's not just familiarity and comfort that kept me agog at everything from Peter Rabbit to TEN YEARS worth of subscribed-to Beanos. (Still have them all! How sad of me.) It is the fact that every time, and at every stage in my early development, I was challenged to find something new in the pages of these awesome works.

Of course there are some that are terrible - usually ones tied in with TV (unless it's Pocoyo! Best. Show. EVER. Or certainly the best narrated by Stephen Fry, anyway.) But some are amazing. Significantly, there have been some great new ones over the past few years.

Fan favourite for me and her (as a qualified filmmaker/teacher and doctor respectively!) is the glorious canon one of Northern Ireland's finest, Oliver Jeffers. If you haven't read one of his titles, do so. Soon. Or maybe you caught the animated version of his most famous work, Lost and Found on the TV at Christmas - don't worry, it's the new Snowman and will no doubt be repeated every year for the next decade anyway. Jeffers, a professional artist and photographer (and graduate of University of Ulster! You didn't see that coming, I'll wager...) has already won a truckload of awards and captured the hearts and minds of kids and parents alike. Absorbing pictures and the simplest, most random of storylines combine for a highly provocative experience. Go on - have a gander next time you're in Waterstones.

But, as Anthony Browne has shared with us, none of this may matter much as less and less children are coming into context with these little glories. And as a result, they're drawing less, they're struggling more with creativity, and they're becoming generations of mind-washing, boring (and ironically) Media students - I know, i studied with many of them and have taught a few more. It's part of a larger endemic problem, that as a society we're all too aware of, but still do little to react to.

And with that in mind, I fancy a round or two of this 'shape game'...

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gta: lego city

Genius... I'd never come across this before, though it is a few years old. I'd buy it!


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the (in)glory of it all: update

Semi-redemption?




Ha.

[Original story published earlier today - read it here.]

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going dutch

Only got to see this today: the Netherlands sticking it to a shellshocked England in the first match of the T20 tournament. "Cricket is no longer boring!" reads one Dutch article.

It's been hailed as the greatest day in the history of Dutch cricket. I'm currently reading Netherland by Joseph O'Neill, which is all about a Dutchman playing cricket (sort of. It's not really, but it's the Maguffin and that's enough for me to say that.) I feel this gives me enough of an affinity for the Dutch side to be able to rejoice. That, and they whacked the English.

The Irish have a tricky one against Bangladesh on Monday and a colossal game against the team I predict to win the championship, India, on Wednesday. If they could get past the former and make it to the Super 8 stage it would be a great achievement in itself. But if they fail, I'll be backing the Dutch for their stay in the tournament.

Go on, you Oranje!


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the (in)glory of it all

So, last night I did something so henious, so unforgivable, so sadly-in-character that I fear I must let it out, for fear of containing it and the implosion that would occur shortly after.

Went up to Fuel 09 in Ballymena: good idea, though I was only interested in one thing on the bill: the David Crowder* Band. DCB hold the much-coveted second place (second only to DMB, equally awesome) in my last.fm stats, and for several very good reasons. There's a lot of Christian music out there. The vast majority has great meaning and is genuine, but musically can lack a little (in my humble yet mighty opinion.) DCB transcend just about every genre to bring music that is compelling, brimming with enthusiasm, painfully perfected and... and this is the important bit... kicks ass. It really is that good. But, having never managed to make the trek over to Frenzy in Scotland, I had never got the chance to see them live.

They were fantastic, as expected and more. Completely engaged in equal measures of praise and joy, encouragement and entertainment (and that's a debate for another blog, Seranus!) Fuel is relatively intimate, so no detail was missed and Crowder's energy and interaction is a lesson to any worship leader on How To Do It. I don't say that to idolise them, but rather in that if I had to point to a guy and say This Is The Attitude I Would Like To Have, then that would be it.

But, then the kicker: after Third Day had wrapped up the night, a surprise - DCB were doing a signing. Would I queue? Yes I would, and screw my dignity. Having engaged with a lot of Crowder and the DCB's work, most recently Crowder and Mike Hogan's excellent Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven... ("And So I Watch You From Afar", April 16th 2009), I had so much to draw on that I could ask the guys. And then there's B-Wack and Hogan and the obsession with musical experimentation. Or the band's return to recording a conceptual album with the upcoming Church Music. This was too good an opportunity to miss.

But then something horrible happened.

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I was talking to my Dad on Tuesday night about job interviews. There's an occasional moment we all encounter, when it all goes horribly wrong. We see ourselves saying or doing something, almost as if Out-Of-Body, and we are powerless to stop. And it keeps happening. And we don't stop.

Please, please, my consciousness screams. Stop. Please. Now.

But we don't.

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As you can tell from above, I know quite a bit about the David Crowder* Band. A lot of this has built up from regular/occasional web encounters mostly, be that their Twitter, YouTube or own outputs. They're a band that engage and play a lot with new media, and if you're bored you can find out a lot... so I did, when I was bored.

And now, all of a sudden, instead of saying something useful, or offering something of interest, I turned into public enemy number one: Barely Restrained Fanboy.

And so this is what happened...

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Pete and Sensible Friend are queuing. B-Wack (drummer) sticks head around the corner of the tent.

B-Wack: Hey, guys, how's it going?

Pleasantries are exchanged and Stuff To Sign offered.

B-Wack: ....yeah, we were at the Giant's Causeway today... it's weird... did you do that?
Pete: Personally? No. I did kick it once, but, you know...

There is some banter around this and then a pause. That joke went down ok. This was probably a Bad Thing.

Pete: So where else did you guys get to see?
B-Wack: Oh man, I can't remember what any of the places were called.
Mark (guitar): Yeah...
Pete: Oh ok. I saw a TwitPic earlier of Jack sitting behind some big random table...

No! Stop talking! Please! Don't reveal anymore. You sound like a stalker already!

B-Wack: Hmmm... oh yeah, that must have been at the hotel.
Pete: Anywhere good?
B-Wack: Can't remember.
Mark: The Gul.. Galgorm? Is that right?

Sensible Friend says something sensible, and hands her stuff on to Mike D (bass) to sign. Hogan's (DJ, Violin and more) not paying attention, so Mike hands it to him first.

Hogan: Oh ok, sorry...
Mike D: You're not paying attention.
Pete: It's ok, got it sorted now, you're back on the wagon...
Hogan: Yeah, I guess..

On to Crowder... this is it brain, don't let me down. Say it! Tell him you liked the book! Tell him it really helped!

Crowder: *Takes stuff" Hey, here we go: going to get some top quality ink down here.
Pete: *speechless*

Crowder hands it on to Jack. Jack signs and returns. Thanks and turn to go, but then...

Pete: Hey Jack...
Jack: Yeah?
Pete: Saw the rockumentary, and I just have to say: no matter what the others say, you shred if you want to.
Jack: Oh yeah?
Pete: Yeah, you do it man.
Jack: Oh good; that's like I've got permission now.
Pete: Yeah.
Jack: Great, thanks.

Exeunt.

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I'm really, really sorry guys. I just glad I was probably instantly forgettable, because five minutes later I felt that creeping sense...

...but that's how it goes with hero worship. I need to lie down, put my earphones in and let Pastor Mark chastise me for a bit I think.

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nixon night: 8th june

I'm afraid this one speaks for itself: as part of the continuing wave of frenetic passion that is the Smyth 2010 campaign is having a little bit of a night of celebration, before our man with the plan heads off for a month touring the USA's eastern seaboard.

Mr Smyth has many unfortunate heroes, and none are more controversial than Tricky Dick himself, the 37th President of those same United States. If you've ever been in at 'Campaign HQ' for more than five minutes and heard myself and the candidate going at it, you'll know that the bizarre humour often revolves around former incumbents of the White House, and R. Milhous Nixon is certainly one of the most popular. To that end, we have resolved to put on the not-exactly-impartial epic that is Oliver Stone's 'Nixon' starring everyone's favourite repatriated Welshman, Anthony Hopkins as the man himself.

I'm not going to say it's open invitation because our living room isn't that big, and our audio system in particular could do with an overhaul; but nonetheless, if you also would enjoy three hours of non-stop Nixon action, drop us a line and we'll see about getting you in past the Secret Service...

smyth/huey 1; purnell 0

You may recall - or then again, may not - my 'calling out' of the ignominous goon, rickety oaf and plainly, twaddling wally that was Work & Pensions Secretary James Purnell ('An open (informal) letter to James Purnell', 10 December 2008). Well, clearly someone was listening: namely James himself, who has just announced his resignation to demonstrate his opposition to the failing leadership of our unelected PM, Gordon Brown.

(I realise I already sound like a toryboy here. I'm really not; I just really dislike James Purnell!)

Of course, that's the official reason the man is giving. But, here at Smyth 2010 campaign headquarters, we all know the truth: his obvious terror at the momentum-gathering wave of change, sweeping this nation like a bleached mop of justice, was just too much for this Blairite featherweight. No doubt confronted by the jackboot of reform, he clearly decided it just wasn't worth it.

Victory is ours!



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