This magnificent, sad, brilliant album was the debut of British post-punk/synth-pop band The The. My father has been pushing this album on me for some time but I had hitherto ignored him. Feeling the pang of desire for new music, I decided to investigate The The. The result was quite extraordinary.
I’ve Been Waitin’ For Tomorrow (All Of My Life)
This Is The Day
The Sinking Feeling
Uncertain Smile
The Twilight Hour
Soul Mining
Giant
The opening of Soul Mining is an infectious and portentous drum beat with subdued humming followed by an astonishing panoply of synth wonderment. It strikes a truly cheerful note with the opening lyrics:
Covering my body in leaves
And trying not to breath
All my childhood dreams
Are bursting at the seams
And dangling around my knees
I’ve been deformed by emotional scars
And the cancer of love has eaten out my heart
I’ve been stripped bare and nobody cares
And all the people I looked up to are no longer there
The second track continues on the deep hues of synth, complex in their arrangements. The main repeated lyric is:
This is the day (This is the day)
Your life will surely change
I felt thusly when listening to this album for the first time. I could not believe the quality of synth, the arrangement, and the dreadfully sad lyrics. The total package of this track is arresting.
The lyrics contained the occasional hint of histrionic gaucheness – “the cancer of love has eaten out my heart” seems a pretty melodramatic way to say you got dumped – but more often they’re strikingly precocious: Uncertain Smile’s brilliant drawing of a confused relationship, The Twilight Hour’s painfully accurate depiction of self-obsession. Guardian
The third track The Sinking Feeling is just wonderful. It is energetic, fun, and characteristically sad.
Uncertain Smile is the shining crown jewel of the album. The languishing synth and foreboding bass predicts an exquisite minutes-long piano solo, which I did not register fully on first listening to this album. Much like the harpsichord solo in the first movement of the Fifth Brandenburg Concerto (which Nick reliably informs me is called a cadenza), this is a passage of epic proportion. It is played by Jools Holland, if you can believe it. The track is tied together by this wonderful section which sits atop the ranking of the album’s tunes.
A howling wind that blows the litter as the rain flows
As street lamps pour orange coloured shapes, through your windows
A broken soul stares from a pair of watering eyes
Uncertain emotions force an uncertain smile
I’ve got you under my skin where the rain can’t get in
But if the sweat pours out, just shout
I’ll try to swim and pull you out
The title track is quite striking. The lyrics are painful, and the bass is deep. The beautiful “wah wah” guitar notes, coupled with lighter guitar, bass and percussion, join together into a musical feast. The synth solo to close out this track and lead into Giant is superlative.
“Something always goes wrong when things are going right…
You’ve swallowed your pride –
– to quell the pain inside
Someone captured your heart – just like a thief in the night
& squeezed all juice out – until it ran dry”
The closer “Giant” is a perfect summary of the album’s manifesto. An incredibly serious piece of music and an existential musing upon the nature of the self – “How could anyone know me when I don’t even know myself?” – it’s a theme Matt Johnson would revisit on the majestic ‘Slow Emotion Replay” from 1993’s Dusk. Lineofbestfit
I am a stranger to myself
And nobody knows I’m here
When I looked into my face
It wasn’t myself I’d seen
But who I’ve tried to be
Giant is a ten minute feast. It speaks of identity, self-knowledge, pain and reckoning with one’s past. Here The The are at their most anxious, espousing a very human fear of God, Hell, the past, but ultimately, of ourselves. Grappling with identity, one’s place in the world and the two inter relate is a life’s challenge are themes of the track. This struggle for acceptance by others and by ourselves is played out at length in the closing track. I got a sense for the depth of Matt Johnson’s (lead singer) anxiety. The final track is arresting, immediate and expansive, a fitting end to a monumental album.
This is a vitally important record. Its themes provoke tension and anxiety at times. However, the variety of the styles, genres and talents are there for all to see. This is a work of gargantuan scope which has left quite a mark on this reviewer. If you have time, please explore the rest of The The’s work, especially their 1989 offering, Mind Bomb.
The Incredulity of Saint Thomas or the Rockox Triptych (or “Altarpiece”), is a triptych painting by Peter Paul Rubens(1577 – 1640), and was produced between 1613 and 1615. On either side of the triptych you can see sir Nicolaas II Rockox and his spouse Adriana Perez. This painting was originally commissioned for the Lady Chapel in the Recollects Convent in Antwerp but now sits in the Great Hall of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, where I saw it in October.
If you can bring yourself to ignore the ‘freaky Dutch bastards’ as Dr Evil would call them, the central panel is something of a masterpiece. I went to the museum with Celia and she must have thought me quite queer because I stopped and stared at this painting for at least ten minutes. I felt like Ongo Gablogian having an epiphany.
Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.”John 20:25
Here, three apostles, Thomas, Peter and John, are incredulous at Christ’s returning from the dead. This event is the bedrock of the Christian faith. They are looking at Christ with surprise, with Thomas wanting to verify this incredible event with empirical evidence, namely putting a finger in the wounds. The event speaks to the quality of faith, asking us whether we believe this core tenet of our faith without needing for it to be verified. I was so moved by this painting. Seeing Christ depicted with such light and looking at his doubting apostles with love in spite of their doubt electrified me. There are three reactions in this painting as I can see, shock by Thomas, interest by Peter (closest to us, presuming this is indeed Peter) and love from John in the back. I may have got the apostles in the wrong order, for which I can only apologise. Which of these three reactions would we have when confronted with this event in scripture?
I noticed at once that Jesus’ halo was missing in this painting but that a faint gold glow can see seen behind his head. The absence of a halo emphasises the corporeality of the risen Christ, that is to say that Christ is here in human form again. This was another striking aspect of the painting for me, with Rubens, who was always inspired to his work by faith, stating clearly his belief in the resurrection.
Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”John 20:29
Overall this is a work of genius which left a lasting impression on me. It tackles the founding event of the Christian faith and was profoundly moving to me. I am very much looking forward to my next trip to Amsterdam when I will be able to see it again.
“My passion comes from the heavens, not from earthly musings.” Rubens
Henry Vaughan was a Welsh metaphysical poet, born in Brecknockshire in 1621. He wrote The Retreat in 1650 when he was just 29 years old, a poem part of the Silex Scintillans, his most famous collection. Retreat here has a dual meaning. One is to hide, to get away from one’s life. The other is a pleasant place where one might go to stay, such as a religious retreat at Ampleforth. Both a return to the past, and a longing to escape to an easier time are desired by Vaughan, which you will find below:
Happy those early days! when I
Shined in my angel infancy.
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race,
Or taught my soul to fancy aught
But a white, celestial thought;
When yet I had not walked above
A mile or two from my first love,
And looking back, at that short space,
Could see a glimpse of His bright face;
When on some gilded cloud or flower
My gazing soul would dwell an hour,
And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity;
Before I taught my tongue to wound
My conscience with a sinful sound,
Or had the black art to dispense
A several sin to every sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness.
O, how I long to travel back,
And tread again that ancient track!
That I might once more reach that plain
Where first I left my glorious train,
From whence th’ enlightened spirit sees
That shady city of palm trees.
But, ah! my soul with too much stay
Is drunk, and staggers in the way.
Some men a forward motion love;
But I by backward steps would move,
And when this dust falls to the urn,
In that state I came, return.
Such power in 32 lines. What does this poem say to me?
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to consider my present ‘grown up’ problems with angel infancy and a blameless outlook. What would my younger self have made of my present self? Perhaps a futile exercise, but our present lives are quite riddled with difficulties. It can be easy to wish to shirk responsibilities and be in peace. Vaughan highlights in the first six lines the ease with which he reached a state of mental peace and laments, impliedly, that now he must make a great effort to reach white (pure) celestial thought.
Lines 7-14 speak of the forlorn memories of one’s first love; their childhood home. Looking back on these with adult eyes, as it were, helps the reader see how precious these moments were. It also helps us see the value Donne places on purity of mind and thought, unsullied by what we learn as we go through life. Indeed these were so precious that the reader sees God in them.
Again lines 15-20 continue on this theme, lamenting the loss of childhood innocence of thought, and not yet knowing how to over indulge the senses. In a way, Vaughan is saying that a state of purity is required for us to attain the everlasting. The following six lines develop this vague longing into an expressed desire – the writer tells us that he would rather live in the past than in the present, a shocking revelation to me.
The final six lines show us that the speaker realises that he is living in the past, and that this is unhealthy but he still chooses to do so. He writes expressly that some men prefer to move forward but he would rather go back, and this longing to go back transforms itself into a longing to skip the present and go furthest into the future – this is to say, to die and rise again and follow Christ into heaven.
This is undoubtedly a beautiful poem. I am a man who loves forward motion, so I cannot entirely relate to the longing for childhood in this poem. Nor can I relate to the longing to return to purity of thought and the awed wonder of initial discoveries. This belief that our current mode of thought is somehow inferior to that of our childhood selves is nonsensical to me. The idea that one should long for the past, or past purity of mind, to such an extent that they wish to die and return there, even in heaven, is horrifying. Surely one should acknowledge their childhood, note its passing, and focus on living in the present. They might also focus on planning for the future. Notwithstanding my philosophical objections with the subject matter, I recognise, especially given the unpleasant nature of the present what with its virus and storms, that some may find solace in this poem. Reading The Retreat, one may be comforted realising they are not alone in their wish to return to a simpler time.
I looked for Stratford Upon Avon’s best eateries and alighted on Honey Blue, supposedly the best place to eat in Stratford. It is tucked away in a side alley away from Sheep Street in the centre of town. Now, if one is to go by the Trip Advisor review, they might expect a lavish beautiful small scale indy paradise, but when we went, the menu was limited to a few toasties, which was fine as I did not want to have too heavy a lunch.
Charlotte ordered the three cheese panini, which was quite delicious. There was a slightly rough texture to the cheese which was most pleasant indeed and the bread was high quality, easy to chew through. I had the goats cheese and spinach toastie which was rather good also but tasted fairly similar to the one above. Now, these were at the end of the day, pieces of cheese between bread, so not much more can be said for them. I think the reason this establishment is so popular with the people of Stratford are the beverages:
The cafe’s Facebook page has some excellent photographs of their marshmallow toasted and hanging precariously atop a mountain of cream, as can be seen in the back of my less impressive photograph. I would recommend ordering these after your sandwich as the cream tends to melt rather quickly. The cinnamon cappuccino I ordered was excellent. The cream was light and the cinnamon sung through the whole drink. Charlotte’s hot chocolate with the aforementioned marshmallow was delicious also, rich and fulsome with similar comments about the cream.
Now, beware, the manager’s taste in music, at least on our visit, was limited extremely grating saxophone based techno pop, which was so loud that both Charlotte and I were on the edge of a nervous breakdown by the time we left. I suggest eating outside or asking the owner to turn down the racket. We had already asked for the door to be closed to keep the February cold out, so did not feel able to make a second demand but the music really was atrocious. Overall a good place for drinks, would not recommend the £7 cheese and bread.
Welcome to the February 2022 edition of Five Favourites. My thanks again to Nick for pressing me to do this originally many moons ago. See below five album covers which have been, in Stephen Fry’s words “intriguing me rather“.
Hugh Maskela – Trumpet Africaine (1962)
There’s something marvellous about 23 year old Hugh taking up the full cover with a symmetrical shot of him playing the trumpet. The framing is beautiful, the instrument is magnificent. The cover is telling the viewer what they can expect from the album, a talented young man, playing the trumpet. Superb, in my view.
Ted Nugent – Cat Scratch Fever (1977)
If you feel like googling this afterwards, I suggest using the artist’s name to avoid some disturbing images of havoc wrought by our feline friends. This cover is excellent. It shows one’s internal emotions after being attacked by a cat, which causes initial pain, but then being reminded of this betrayal by itching in the place we have been struck. I can relate to Mr Nugent on many levels, though my hair has never been that long or frizzy.
Kraftwerk – Computer World (1981)
This truly magnificent album is covered by a three coloured, minimalist feast. I love the contrasting colours, the four teletext Germans and the grey of the computer. This cover does not hint at the magnificence of the album which is to follow.
Face Value – Phil Collins (1981)
In 2016, the beloved artist, formerly of Genesis, re-released his albums in a suite called ‘take a look at me now’. I have included both as they are quite extraordinary, both. This was and remains a searingly honest cover which lives up to its title. The notable similarity in the 2016 cover is Collins’ eyes, and his piercing gaze. A great cover.
Shakara – Fela Kuti and the Afrika 70 (1972)
I have kept this hilarious cover for the last. Here, Fela has put together a group of topless women to create an aerial outline of Afrika and the number 70, with him, speedoed, gleefully at the centre of the 0. Woke feminist politics aside, this is quintessentially Fela and he must have had the greatest time planning and orchestrating this cover. If nothing else, it is a lot of fun, which we could all use more of.
