Here’s a blog after my own heart: Tooting Top Ten, a list of, guess what, the top ten things about Tooting.
I like this guy’s writing. If you do, his new blog is at SavidgeTales over at Wordpress.
Here’s a blog after my own heart: Tooting Top Ten, a list of, guess what, the top ten things about Tooting.
I like this guy’s writing. If you do, his new blog is at SavidgeTales over at Wordpress.
Andre Rieu’s album of Strauss Waltzes and other bon-bons, Forever Vienna, is number 1 in the classical album charts this year, and beat Susan Boyle’s album in the top ten of the pop album charts. This isn’t particularly fresh news, even though the BBC only reported it today: the Telegraph had the same story on 18th January.
It’s interesting how this story has been kept out of the mainstream media, but not altogether surprising: it’s just not damn cool enough. Philip Tagg, musicologist and specialist in popular music studies delivered a wonderful speech in 2000 called ‘High and low, Cool and uncool, music and knowledge: Conceptual falsifications and the study of popular music’ in which he showed how popular music studies is prone to a ‘cool’ agenda where music which is genuinely popular doesn’t get studied because it’s not ‘cool’. On a straw poll he conducted at the conference, he found that there was only a 27% likelihood of the Blue Danube being studied on the popular music curriculum (compared to 92% for the Sex Pistols God Save The Queen). Rieu’s first album in 1995 apparently beat Michael Jackson’s in the European charts, but that’s not going to be a popular story. How uncool does that make us. All those ‘Cool Britannia’ years, with MPs singing pop songs and inviting rock stars to No. 10 were a misrepresentation on every level: they should really have had Susan Boyle and Andre Rieu in Downing Street.
What I like to believe about this story is that it shows just how important the body in music is. “Waltzes were not meant to be conducted,” [Rieu] says firmly. “I lead with my bow, my head, my whole body, just as Johann Strauss did.” (source). Will ’serious’ music ever get this kind of audience, without some kind of movement involved? Did ballet evolve as a means of making up for the boredom of sitting in the dark watching an orchestra?
Perhaps the most challenging thing here is the racist stereotype of the starched white urban European compared to the globally southern native, in touch with their body, a Descartian split across racial lines with the European as the brain, and the African as the body. Heinrich Laube, describing Johann Strauss I in 1833 wrote:
The man is black as a Moor; his hair is curly; his mouth is melodious, energetic, his lip curls, his nose is snub… Typically African too is the way he conducts his dances; his own limbs no longer belong to him when the desert-storm of his waltz is let loose; his fiddle-bow dances with his arms; the tempo animates his feet; the melody waves champagne glasses in his face; the ostrich takes a swift run preliminary to beginning his flight . . . The devil is abroad.
From Jacob, H. E. (1940) Johann Strauss father and son: A century of light music. (Wolff, M., Trans.) New York: Greystone Press. Available from Internet Archive.
As Dahlhaus wrote in The Idea of Absolute Music, our concept of what music was in the 19th century is skewed by the fact that we got aesthetically fixated in the 20th century on ‘absolute music’, whereas in the nineteenth century this was just an ‘enclave’ as Dahlhaus puts it, in a mass of what we’d call popular classics – opera, romances, virtuoso pieces and salon music and so on.
So perhaps we shouldn’t be so surprised if Strauss makes it to the pop charts. In the wider scheme of things, Strauss played by a violinist who moves is probably going to be more popular than rock music played by someone who stands still, because we like movement. The popular/classical divide is a misleading category, and it’s the omission of the body that misleads, as this story illustrates beautifully.
We’ve all done it – you send an email saying “I’m attaching my essay/file/picture” or whatever, and then if you’re lucky, 30 seconds later, you realise that you’ve sent it without attaching it. If you’re unlucky, you wait 10 days for a response, then get all incensed at the person you wrote to, and say ‘Didn’t you see my file?’ then realise they never got it because you never attached it.
Everyone does it, no matter how intelligent or IT savvy they are. I do it regularly. It’s always struck me that since computers ask you if you’re sure about every other darned thing, why the hell couldn’t they ask you, before you send an email ‘Is there anything you want to attach to this email before you send it?‘. Spellcheck, signatures, virus checks, yes, but the most common error in emailing, no.
Until Thunderbird: in Thunderbird if you write the word ‘attach’ or ‘attaching’ or ‘attachment’ or ‘attached’ (and maybe a few more versions of ‘attach-’) up comes a little yellow window at the bottom which says ‘Found an attachment keyword’ and then an option to add the attachment or remind you later.
That’s one big step for mankind. Well done Thunderbird.
Thunderbird website: download it and free yourself from Micros**t

Dunwich in Suffolk last summer
At the pool yesterday, I was fascinated to watch a group of 5-year olds having their swimming lesson. One instructor was in the pool ready to catch the poor things when the other instructor, on the side of the pool, ‘encouraged’ them to jump into the water.
A few were quite easy and nonchalant about it, and just dropped themselves in and swam to the steps. But others had emotions ranging from mild distress to pure terror. One just cried and cried and shook his head and his hands and stepped backwards from the edge in a combination of gestures that couldn’t have said ‘no’ more loudly if they tried.
I smiled, not because I’m cruel, but because I had a feeling that the same child would pretty soon probably enjoy jumping into the water, and might even like the slight frisson of terror as he does so. How is it possible to be so upset and terrified and apprehensive, and yet be so wrong?
I smiled also because all that little-boy stepping back from the edge, tears, apprehension and hand- and head-shaking is remarkably similar to how I feel when I know that I have an essay to write or some other big, complex task. Talking to friends, I discover that I’m not the only one with an ingenious array of techniques for avoiding starting stuff – the best one being ‘I’d better do the washing up first’. Curi0usly, on most days, I’d happily leave the washing up until tomorrow.
Watching those kids trying to jump in the pool made me think that the thing with procrastination is that it’s not a fear of the thing you’ve got to do, it’s apprehension about jumping into it. Surely, you think to yourself, the best way to start is to prepare, to ease yourself in gently, to wait until it feels right, to let yourself acclimatize to your working conditions, to make everything around you comfortable and convenient.
In life as in swimming, this is nonsense. If you’ve ever swum in the sea in England, you’ll know that there’ll never be a good time to get yourself in the water. Whether it’s an essay or the English channel, it’s there, it’s cold, you have to get on with it and jump in.
It often strikes me that a good way to collect money for charity would be to stand outside Starbucks or Caffè Nero and invite people to donate the £2 or so that they were going to spend on a latte on people and causes that needed that £2 much more than you really need a coffee and a sit-down. However, I like my Caffè Nero, and I can’t get holier-than-thou over it.
So I’ve come up with a better idea: buy your courgettes loose from Sainsburys, and give the money you save to anyone you like, except Mr & Mrs Sainsbury. Confused? Look at the picture above which was taken on Thursday morning at Sainsburys in Tooting. On the left, a 500g pack of courgettes costs £1.78. On the right, a kilo of courgettes (loose) costs £1.84. So 500g of courgettes from the loose box would cost you 92p – which is 96p less than buying them in a packet. That’s nearly a whole pound you’re giving to Sainsburys which you could put towards coffee, or charity – you decide.
I had to stare at those signs for two minutes before I could work out what was going on, and then had to photograph them to be sure I hadn’t made a mistake. Two signs, four figures, two font sizes, and four means of comparison: on the left, the big number is price per pack, with the price per kilo printed in a size and position that is appropriate for cats with 20/20 vision. On the right, the big price is price per kilo, with the cat-friendly font dedicated to price per pound. So in fact, you’ve got four things to compare, and the two vital comparators (price per kilo) are not displayed at the same hierarchic level. If you don’t or can’t read the small print, you might think that the ones on the left are cheaper – after all, it’s £1.78 compared to £1.84. The price for not doing the maths is to pay £3.56 per kilo for a courgette as opposed to £1.84, or nearly double.
Latte anyone?
Skimming through an article on masculinities, sports and popular music, I had to read one sentence four times before I could believe my eyes. Yes, there really is an album called Golfs Greatest Hits (punctuation evidently wasn’t one of them), and a label (Teed Off) dedicated to, er, Golf Music.
Please don’t buy this for me, even as a joke. The idea of golf is bad enough, but the idea of a compilation of music for people who think golf is a good idea takes several biscuits.
This isn’t as weird as it gets though, not just yet. For that you have to look at The Worst Album Covers Ever Created. There are so many wonderful abominations here, I don’t know where to start recommending. Other sites may have more, but this guy knows how to pick the best of the worst.
And if you fancy making your own cod vinyl record label (78rpm, 45rpm or LP), there’s a site where you can do it online and get the results straight back as jpg. Hours of endless procrastinatory fun and more at the Vinyl Record Generator.