Sunday Mercury - Paul Flower

The bluffer's guide to artist management pt.1

2009-07-15T14:24:17Z

I once thought I'd be a great band manager. Lacking in any real musical ability but having a deep love of music it seemed the obvious choice, a potential career path to run alongside my existing music journalism (which, frankly, has never paid). Then I tried it.

It was the mid to late 80's; the specific point in time has become slightly blurred by the passing of even more time. I was friendly with a number of bands in the general Birmingham area by virtue of hanging around in the wrong places, writing for local media, broadcasting for the BBC (locally) and promoting the odd gig on a random basis.

I had knowledge of music, media, marketing and publicity. I still have some of these skills, partly amplified by time and experience. Consequently I was invited by my friends in a band we should call Red Shoes (because that's their name) to help manage them.

Music managers of the time fell into three possible categories -

Close friends of the band who didn't mind cold-calling to get gigs and helping them to hump the gear around.

People with too much spare cash (but often not enough) who wanted to be in the music business, or to at least say they were.

Ex-musicians or recording studio workers, or people with existing 'successful' bands looking to expand their 'stable'.

None of the above was a reliable formula for success, but there seemed to be a glut of talent around and most of it went un-noticed. Sadly Birmingham was not considered 'cool' in music industry terms, certainly not on a level with Manchester or even Glasgow, Leeds, Sheffield or Cardiff - all towns/cities that have been deemed to have a 'scene' at any point in the last thirty years.

Although the whole Stourbridge scene blew up in the period where I could've conceivably said 'I was there' and I knew a few bands that went on to great success there were a great many more that disappeared without trace. Were it not for recent developments you may have been able to say the same of Red Shoes.

That Red Shoes were accomplished musicians was a given, they wrote great songs and performed them well. The interplay between main vocalist Carolyn and guitarist/co-vocalist Mark was the core of the band and each was the perfect accompaniment to the other, personally and musically.

They slightly defied classification, something I should've played more on - albeit that this was a time when the best way to sell something was to compare it to something else. Right now we'd have termed it alt. folk/Americana but I don't think I'd even heard the term Americana at that time.

It was a period in time where r.e.m. were about to become mainstream but the vogue was for scuzzy indie guitars, shoegazing or electro-pop, Red Shoes weren't easily pigeon-holed and most labels didn't really know what they'd do with them. Perhaps my failings were in not being able to elucidate this for them - this is how it's going to work, and this is how you should sell it.

I probably lacked the self-confidence or self-belief to do this effectively. The one A&R man I did convince of their talents similarly lacked the budget and confidence to make it work, though he spent some time trying. He eventually quit the music business to become a missionary in Africa. I genuinely hope I wasn't in any way responsible for this.

This could easily have become another music business sob-story. Inexperienced manager wrecks hopes of genuinely talented band. For a long time it looked that it might go that way. I had made the mistake of combining friendship and business, things that rarely prove compatible, and when mixed neither usually survive. But........

Earlier this month Red Shoes released their debut album, Ring Around The Land. A masterful piece of work, completed with talented collaborators who understood and appreciated their art. You could say that it's at least 20 years too late, but there's no such thing as perfect timing - fortunately for them great music is timeless.

The full story, written by someone who can write and has a better understanding of music than me, is here. It is worth your time, this is a classic of the 'good will out', and true talent will overcome all adversity - but only as long as you stick at it.

Part two - the proper guide to band management will follow next wk.

Another qualified album review

The Red Shoes guide to Freeconomics is here, tells you a little of what you need to know about breaking through today, it was always about relationships:

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Hardly ever here and here too often

unhappy birthday

2009-07-08T13:50:12Z

It's my birthday. A fact I'm reminded of every few minutes as most of my 218 'friends' on Facebook wish me a happy one, usually with some associated abuse. I'm trying to forget about it; consequently I'm regretting ever joining bloody Facebook. I'm probably too old for social networking anyway, or is that just how everyone else makes me feel?

Naturally my 'colleagues' see fit to present me with a birthday card with references to bus passes, pensions and even 'granddad'. Were it not for the fact that I'm self-employed I'd consider complaining to HR.

When recently ridiculing a younger, more flamboyant, client, he quipped that 'it probably wasn't like this in my day'. In my day?! Which day did he think that was, some other century? Well, yes I guess it was. I could've pointed out that I hung out at the same clubs as Martin Degville, Boy George and the pioneers of new romantic, the first time around, the original electronica. Obviously that would've aged me as well.

I haven't been this depressed about a birthday for years. The thing is that it's not even a significant one, occurring mid-way between the last and the next 'big-one'. I thought I might rejoice that I'm now the same age as the speed of a 7" single, but actually realise that this statement ages me as much as any other.

I had been trying to pretend that I'm not now middle-aged, fact is that I'm beyond middle-aged as I doubt that I'll live to be 90. There is a language to this state of aging; it is the language of excuses. I may find myself saying stuff like 'age is a state of mind'; because it's the kind of thing you only really start to believe when you get to this kind of age.

It's a sad kind of truth that I don't feel my age, in my head I think of myself being around 27, the numbers don't add up. I never could add up. These are all the things that 'old' people say, the type of things that I now say.

In truth can we only now see ourselves as others see us? In that case I'm practically at the bath chair stage. That I know what a bath chair is also ages me.

On Saturday I found myself at the Godiva Festival in Coventry, a fabulous 'free' event. I was marvelling at the fact that the real ale tent was quieter than the other bars; yes, I know. Not far from the tent a pair of 'girls' were handing out vouchers for 50p off the banana bread beer, naturally I hunted them down - one of them called me 'dear'. Yes, as at many gigs of late, I felt old.

What's the next stage of the ageing process: playing 'operations top trumps' with random strangers who appear to be around 'my vintage'? "Oh yeah, I had the balloonectomy and colostomy last year. That Dr Singh is a marvellous surgeon". Of course I'll be meeting these strangers in hospital waiting rooms which are where I'll be spending all my spare time.

My battle-cry will become 'I'm not dead yet', whilst my failing brain tries to remember that every day above ground is a good day. As long as it is not your birthday that is.

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pop is dead?

2009-07-01T13:22:54Z

From the millions of words expelled into the stratosphere following Michael Jackson's death, one phrase rings truest: we may never see his like again. Take that in any way you chose, my point is that the king of pop may never be deposed - pop careers no longer have that longevity, new artists do not have the potential to sell the same quantity of music, artists are not allowed to develop that way. The king is dead, etc.

It's a problem that the music industry needs to address but seems unable to do so; we just do not appear to be creating mega-stars with cross-over potential and lasting appeal. There were many factors that contributed to Jackson's success but a combination of talent and timing was the primary one.

To this you can possibly add persistence. You may not have realised it but his major breakthrough album, Off The Wall in 1979, was his fifth solo release. It also followed a four year gap since his last album. The four initial solo albums were characterised by their lack of major singles - approx one per album - and 73's 'Music & Me' could justifiably have been called a flop.

Compare Robbie Williams' fortunes on his first solo release - he was in the similar situation of having been in a popular band, but the unfamiliar one of almost being dropped when his album looked like flopping. He was saved by the single, Angels, picking up heavy airplay but it was touch-and-go. Had he been dropped at that time he'd probably never have recorded another album and would've currently been back touring with Take That. It's open to opinion as to whether this would've been the best thing for everyone.

Current artists do not enjoy that level of backing from their labels, whatever the size of your deal it would normally be expected that one flop = dropped. Having taken a battering over many years labels cannot afford to fund risky prospects anymore, nor have they been keen to do so for some time.

This is not to attack record companies per se; accountants and bean counters have taken over most industries and we're all looking for the fastest-fix to financial constraints. There's no such thing as easy-money but can you really blame the labels for trying to guarantee success with short-term measures? It's all about protecting the investment.

The other problem is the market itself and the route to reach it. When Michael Jackson finally bloomed into pop mega-stardom in the 80's he was aided by the fact that there were fewer media outlets and they were powerful. The audience was concentrated on a smaller number of radio stations, magazines, newspapers and TV stations, meaning that a key record release could reach a maximum audience with substantially less effort than required now.

He also had the timely and simultaneous rise of MTV to exploit and the only way to really own the songs was to buy the albums. Will the planets ever align in the same way again? Who could potentially attain the same level of stardom, will any other pop star be known in every small town in every country of the world?

I know of no such artist, all the genres are so carefully segmented now that there are few edges to be blurred. Usher might be a very famous RnB act, Eminem might be a very famous Hip Hop act, Beyonce might be a hugely successful soul/RnB act, and they may all have crossover hits but none are ever likely to be a global phenomenon.

Another remnant of a bygone age? Talent and timing were everything, and the rest is 'history'.

Now, where was I......

2009-06-26T17:20:02Z

It's festival season. I note this as some weak explanation of my tardiness, even if I'm not entirely sure what tardiness means. The fact is that at my stage of advanced adulthood if I go away for three days to an event like the Isle of Wight Festival then it's very likely to take me at least double that time to recover, by which time it's time for the next event which, this year, is Hard Rock Calling currently taking place in Hyde Park (I'm in a portacabin sheltering from the rain).

My tiredness means that I'm barely able to string a sentence together. To be fair this doesn't usually stop me from trying but the consequence is that I'm the only one that can understand the aforementioned sentence. Not a great selling point if the aim is to have more people reading this blog, which it is. Tell your friends!

The other issue is that post-festivals I can generally fall asleep at the drop of a hat. In fact don't bother dropping any hats as I'll be snoozing before it hits the floor and completely unable to pick it up. Now you understand what I was saying about the sentences making sense.

My original idea for this week's blog was based around 'buying British' or at least 'buying local'. It was prompted by the news that a West Bromwich MP had spent £160 in a Solihull Tanning Salon and claimed it back on his expenses. I had decided that his constituents would be less outraged had he actually spent the money in West Brom rather than Solihull. Then - on doing some research - I discovered that he actually hadn't been in a tanning salon, that his handwriting had probably said 'Sandwell Training Centre' or similar.

It's annoying when research like that diverts you from what might have been a potentially humorous riff. The truth may be that it would've only been humorous to me, but that's beside the point. I had also, for many weeks, been trying to find some link to lampooning Hazel Blears. I'm particularly fond of shooting fish in barrels, metaphorically speaking, and my issue with her was that motorbike she was so fond of being photographed astride.

I realise the impossibility of always buying local but have generally felt that MP's have a duty to support British industry, particularly in a crisis/depression. Ms Blears may claim that as she rides an Italian-built Ducati she acts as a European, for me the fact remains that I think she should really be riding a Triumph and supporting workers in England.

Driving a Toyota myself I'm widely open to ridicule (that's just my lack of driving skills) and claims of hypocrisy, but my feeling throughout this whole crisis in Government is that people would have been more willing to 'let things go' if they felt that MPs were supporting them, buying local or buying British would have been a good start.

So, that's where I was going with this blog until it all fell apart. Then Michael Jackson died and it became a little difficult to get the tone of anything right. I initially wrote on my twitter that I hoped he'd be given the dignity in death that was lacking in the latter years of his life. I promptly went on to read about sixty or so jokes about MJ sent to me by people who probably didn't agree. I laughed at some of them so doubtless I'll be burning in hell at some point, that'll be the hell I hadn't believed in up until the time I found myself burning in it.

It's been hard to judge the mood since then. There's no doubt that MJ had some very devoted fans, all of whom will be mourning his loss for some considerable time. In a celeb-obsessed media this has translated into many pages of coverage - most of which is currently sombre, but you can believe that it'll become more salacious in the coming days and weeks. Watch this space - or don't. I'm off for a sleep.

The loyalty factor

2009-06-18T12:03:53Z

This week's blog could've been encompassed within the few words I wrote on my twitter feed yesterday - we get relegated, he gets promoted and I get stuck with a season ticket I no longer want. This was, of course, a response to the inevitable resolution of the long-drawn-out saga over whether Tony Mowbray would go to Celtic.

Like most football fans I am slightly one-eyed but even I recognise the overwhelming lure of power and money, no-one can really deny that Mowbray is moving to a bigger club, a club that can buy top players, a club that has the potential to win things. It is regrettable that he chose the immediate post-season to remind his players about the value of loyalty but we all know that loyalty has no place in modern football, he may as well have saved his breath.

So, I wish Mowbray well, there's no point in bleating about it. A similar point could be made to those Villa fans still sore about Gareth Barry's departure. I try to see both sides of any argument and how many of us would've turned down the opportunity to increase our salaries by that amount? He even wrote you a letter - how many players would bother to do that?

Whilst you may see me in a new light of magnanimity, see PF in his coat of charitable colours, you should be under no illusion that I'm similarly disposed towards existing players who demonstrate or vocalise their desire to be elsewhere whilst being gainfully employed and paid by my long-supported club. These players seem to have very short memories and a shockingly small conscience that their input may be at least partly responsible for placing us in this diminished position.

Witness Paul Robinson, the slapstick left-back, claiming that also he'd love to join Celtic, or stay in the premier division. He may flatter himself that such clubs are interested in him; footballers seem to share these peculiar delusions. I suspect he may have forgotten how his clownish plodding around the pitch leaving gaping holes in the defence contributed to goals conceded by West Brom last season. He must also have neglected to remember how his lunging mistimed challenges led us to playing matches with a reduced number of players on numerous occasions. To paraphrase a Frank Skinner line about Nathan Ellington - if I thought anyone was interested in him I'd drive him there myself.

The same comments, slightly doctored, apply to Filipe Texeira. Tex is a supremely talented player, one whom I loved to watch when he first joined the club. Then he got injured and spent a very long time on the treatment table. When he returned towards the end of last season he wasn't quite match fit, which is understandable, he also seemed to be carrying a bit of extra weight. Given that we paid him and 'nursed' him back to health you might expect a bit more loyalty than to hear that he wants to bail at the first opportunity.

I'm hoping that there's some language or cultural reasons why a player like Tex might suggest to a journalist that he wants to leave because 'he didn't get to play much last season'. Perhaps he forgot the half-season on the treatment table when he couldn't play, or the doughnuts he may have eaten during that process, possibly he also hasn't realised that the man who didn't pick him to play has just left the club.

Football is no longer like real life. Could you imagine making any of the above statements publicly if you wanted someone else to employ you? Any, and all, of the above would qualify you as some kind of disloyal lightweight with no sense of responsibility or your role within a team or organisation. If footballers ever wonder why we hate them perhaps they could place themselves in our shoes for a change, there's plenty of us who'd like to be in their boots.

As for the role of football in society, it has been gradually inching away from us as the money rolled in and the twats continued to get fatter. The current transfer bargaining free-for-all would indicate that some teams still have money to play with but, as in life, the gaps between rich and poor will be growing ever-wider.

This recession may see an end to the golden age for top football clubs, if broadcasters go under and are unable to pay their way there will be less competition and the money on offer may start to fall. The banks to whom certain clubs (Liverpool, Man Utd) are indebted may also call in their loans, it may be a reverse of the recession - possibly things will get worse for most of us before they get better in general. Or maybe I just won't have to worry about getting stung with a season ticket as there'll be no team to watch, rather than just a team that may not be worth watching.

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Britain's got psychological problems

2009-06-05T09:03:58Z

In the wake of the Susan Boyle controversy Britain's Got Talent judge Amanda Holden has said that it'd be 'impractical' for them to psychologically screen all entrants to the competition. She's right of course, but instead of impractical she could also have used the term 'counter-productive'. The entire joy of watching the initial audition process would be destroyed if they were to exclude people due to borderline personality disorders.

It probably says something about my personality but I have no interest in seeing people with moderate talent trying to prove their worth, I'm far more interested in the legions of the misguided and (possibly) psychologically-impaired who think that they have something special to offer, when in truth they've always just had special-needs.

The malignant spread of reality TV seems to prove that I'm not alone, clearly most couch-potatoes like a dose of delusion with their evening meals. We all like to laugh or gasp at the 'hilarious' efforts of those who believe themselves to be the next Madonna, or Elvis. It's the modern-day equivalent of bear-baiting, or maybe it's dog-fighting for non-chavs or bare-knuckles for non-pikeys. Seeing Cowell savage would-be contestants, tearing their hopes into tiny pieces, is a bizarrely-ritualistic form of entertainment taking us back into the arena with the gladiators and the emperor who can turn fate with a simple twist of thumb-up or thumb-down.

A psychologist friend of mine has written a blog on our generally spiteful nature with regard to these programmes, a prescient piece considering that it was written before Ofcom mentioned the 350 complaints they'd received about BGT. It seems that the vast majority were not complaining about Boyle (only 20 phoned in concern for her) instead they were raging at the treatment of ten-year-old Hollie Steel, who broke down in tears during one of the semi-finals. Before you think that this should warm your heart please note that 50 were questioning the morals of subjecting crying children to the nation, the other 280 were complaining that Cowell gave her a second chance to perform after the tears had been shed. The complainers said this was just unfair.

As the tabloids look to feast on the remains of the competition and carve their pound of flesh from its rotting corpse, the 'qualities' have been keen to establish whether ITV or the programme-makers could've done more to assist the psychological well-being of the contestants. To which the answer surely has to be, yes, but do they want to? It may be impractical to offer screening or testing to all contestants but they could've done more for those they knew to be at risk.

The massive worldwide reaction to SuBo was based entirely upon the shock reaction that someone who would initially appear to be 'slightly unusual' in demeanour could sing in an above-average way. Since all of modern-life is based on our shallow values of youth, beauty and vitality, perceptions massively reinforced by television and other media, the impact of seeing someone 'old & ugly' with a modicum of talent was ridiculously over-inflated.

Susan then became big news, bigger worldwide than Twitter at one point in the week after her first appearance. Twitter actually amplified her status via celebs like Demi Moore and others pointing at the youtube clips taking her even more widely across the globe. Given her back-story which we've all subsequently read - starved of oxygen at birth, learning difficulties as a result, spent all her life in a small Scottish community - ITV/Syco owed her a massive duty of care.

It's a perfect example of the 'global village' theory, Susan Boyle went from being one of probably many lonely old spinsters in dullsville-upon-twee, tartanland to being the western-World's most-talked-about individual with an invite to perform at the White House and her own celeb-style abbreviated name.

All of this happened within the space of seven days. It's extremely doubtful that anyone could have withstood this kind of attention, and whilst you may choose to belief the TV hyped shock-reactions of the judges you should be under no illusion that TV gold comes that easily, loads of people are involved in making it look that good.

The other relevant point is that they had more than long enough to ensure that this happened. Her first TV appearance was very early in the competition and the hysteria started immediately. At that point they knew she would be amongst the favourites to win and they should've been working with her. I don't know the timeline or whether they did take the necessary steps, the evidence would suggest otherwise.

Britain's got crap TV

2009-06-01T13:46:24Z

Cyprus is a beautiful temperate country, its occupants are warm and friendly, it is steeped in history both modern and ancient. I have spent memorable holidays there on a number of occasions, I love Cyprus. Unfortunately now when I think of Cyprus I think of only one thing - the outline of the island as tattooed on the bulbous wobbling belly of some bald fat dancing fool on a TV talent show.

It was hard to avoid Britain's Got Talent last week, I know because I tried. As it transpired I saw about 30 mins of one semi-final, and 45 mins of the final. There are some acts I managed to avoid altogether and I my life was enriched by their absence.

We're now into the silly summer season on television, a time when all your favourite shows come to an end and are replaced by nothing you'd really want to watch. Or maybe that's just me. In the past few weeks I've lost Heroes, Desperate Housewives and The Shield, more of which later, and it'll soon be the end of The Apprentice. It troubles me though that the shows generally recognised as being great are usually treated very badly by UK TV channels.

We have TV programmes that celebrate great TV, but then the networks bury the great shows being celebrated. I can think of many relevant examples, but here are two: at one point Seinfeld was the biggest show in America. This means that one of the biggest audiences in the entire western world was tuned to a sitcom, a format we've become notoriously bad at in recent times.

On that basis you'd imagine that UK networks would be clamouring to show it in prime-time. Sadly not, when it did finally appear on UK television it followed Newsnight on BBC 2 - usually screened every night of the week. I don't have the time or stamina to follow something like that, nor do I have that quantity of spare VHS tapes. So instead I have resorted to buying up the back-seasons on DVD, where they now sit unwatched on my shelves as I never find time to watch them.

The same treatment is currently being meted out to 'The Wire'. If you read intelligent newspapers and magazines (and if so, why are you reading this?) you'll know that 'The Wire' is very highly regarded, and often described as the best television series ever made. This will of course be why it was shown in the UK on a minority satellite channel (FX) and now - that it's all finished - is being shown every weekday night (or so) in the post-Newsnight slot again. All five seasons of the 'best television series ever' treated as filler for insomniacs.

It seems that the major networks think we're all so dumb that we can't have great TV shows, we can only have reality TV - so BGT finishes and Big Brother returns. On the rare occasions when we do get a decent quality drama or comedy on terrestrial TV it doesn't seem to last long. I have found myself following things that subsequently get shelved or sold to satellite instead. So, I think I saw the initial seasons of Lost, Nip/Tuck, Six Feet Under, Prison Break, et al, only to find the later series on satellite only seemingly never to be seen on terrestrial again - or, at least, not until the post-Newsnight slot becomes free again.

I don't have multi-channel cable or satellite TV, because I have a life. Or rather I would prefer to spend what life I do have on activities other than staring at a small screen. I do have freeview, which is just as well because I'd started watching 'The Shield' many years ago and found it compelling. It was on Five, which has very few decent programmes, so it's odd that the very-final season of this excellent and brutal drama was shown on one of Five's freeview channels, Five US.

To add further insult to injury they changed the scheduled time of the show from 10pm to 11pm half-way thru its run, just so they could show some programme that was already on the terrestrial channel in the better time-slot. To compound all of this, despite freeview channels being full of repeats or time-shifted channels (in the form of +1), this season of The Shield was being shown once only so that when I managed to chop the last five mins of one episode I couldn't catch it anywhere else - not even (legally) online. I did get excited when I spotted The Shield at 11.30 on Five, some days after the Five US showing, how stupid I was to imagine that it was the same season - Five were re-showing a previous season at the same time as Five US screened the last one.

So, TV scheduling lacks logic - no great surprise. The fact that they screw around with all the programmes that I enjoy is beginning to feel like a vendetta though. What did I do to upset them? Of course by the time I eventually succumb to Sky or some other form of 'on-demand' television, there'll be too much choice and I'll still probably watch less than I do now. They've missed their chance; they don't seem too bothered though.

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embarrassing television

2009-05-22T16:59:45Z

Television's a freak show isn't it? It's like watching a parade of the mentally and physically afflicted doing unicycle tricks for the 'entertainment' of the illiterate and chronically couch-bound. Actually that sounds pretty good.

Instead of providing a window to the world, television is more of a porthole slammed on the side of the asylum. In the main they've even given up the pretence of it being some kind of educational tool, now it's just sit and gawp fodder for those of us who can't be bothered to do anything else and can't afford multi-channel satellite feeds.

I've been reaching this conclusion over a prolonged period whilst vegetating in front of the screen - it's either one screen or another. Mostly though it appears to be the fault of embarrassing bodies on Channel 4.

It's the follow-up to a presumably successful series called embarrassing illnesses where people who were suffering some kind of condition so shameful that they couldn't go to their GP could get advice. Yes, they were too embarrassed to go to their private doctor's surgery but they were willing to parade themselves in front of millions on TV. It's a paradox I'm still struggling with, C4 aren't struggling though - which is how they've managed to get at least twelve hours worth of content out of it.

One I saw recently featured a young girl who had verruca problems; we've all been there - except not to this extent. Her verrucas had verrucas, her feet were completely encrusted to the degree that there was probably more wart tissue than skin. As is commonplace with such programmes her mother solemnly revealed that 'young warty' had problems walking and was too embarrassed to go to sleepovers with her friends.

Yes, too embarrassed to visit her friends but her parents weren't embarrassed enough not to put her on a television screen in millions of households. Long have I struggled with the concept of this show and how they manage to find their freaks, are they referred by GPs looking to bolster their NHS earnings? I'm sure her parents must've previously visited a GP and found no solution, so instead they go on TV. Personally I'd have been camped out in the doctor's surgery until they found a cure; the problem was genuinely that bad.

It seems that everyone thinks that TV is the answer, rather than TV being the problem or at least the cause. The same episode (or it may have been a different one, they tend to blur into one horrible mass) featured a guy with a sore arse. The diagnosis from the cheerfully perverse doctors, one of whom happens to be named Pixie, was that he had an ingrown infected hair in the anus which had to be cut out.

You may be flinching at this point, but watching it was much worse. Who, in their right mind, wants to be shown on TV whilst surgeons prod around - with scalpels - in their back passage? Is this the price of being on TV today? Who wants to risk queuing for hours to have Simon Cowell ridicule you when you can just spread your cheeks or whip out your tackle and get straight to the masses. In the future it's all super-HD and widescreen, I can't imagine that this is what we really want on those formats, is it? Really?!

Expendable?

2009-05-13T12:36:19Z

Maybe I'm just too laid back? I'm becoming slightly worried that I've become so cynical that many of the recent 'scandals' barely scrape the surface of my consciousness. This M.P.'s expenses furore for example, has it not descended into the level of farce?
It's hard to sort through the mess of which party's members claimed the most money, or for the most ridiculous items and now it's degenerated - as these things always do - into point-scoring, who can be the most apologetic or the first to be seen to be the most penitent. Could I care less? I doubt it.

My mother, on the other hand, is apoplectic or at least she would be if she knew what apoplectic meant. When I last saw her at the weekend she was incandescent with rage and I'm still struggling to know why. She's been alive long enough to be aware that M.P.s are not charity workers, she knows that they're generally feckless, untrustworthy types. So, why be upset at the latest evidence of their pocket-lining, rule-bending, self-serving natures?

It could be argued that we prefer our representatives to behave this way, who do we want fighting for our rights - people who take what they're given or those who are intelligent enough to know how to manipulate the system?

In my mother's case I can only assume it's because she's never been in a job where she was able to claim for expenses. Those of us who have will probably have to admit some of our own guilt, we've probably all tweaked some mileage claim here or there - or claimed mileage and took the train because the former could earn us more than the latter. Not me, obviously, I'm talking apocryphally, of stories that I might have heard from others who've done such things. Ahem.

As the years passed it became ever more difficult to get away with such behaviour, companies became stricter on such things and if the guilt didn't get to you then the taxman probably would. If anything, that's the irony of the current situation - successive Governments have employed increasingly punitive measures, enacted via the Inland Revenue, to ensure that (for those of us who aren't M.P.s) it's very difficult to commit expenses-fraud.

Once upon a time remuneration packages used to include such things as company cars, company mobiles, etc. The Taxman saw those things off, viewing them as 'perks' rather than part of your pay. Which of us would really have volunteered to carry around a device that ensured our employers could keep in constant touch with us? Did we really expect to then have to pay for that dubious privilege?

It might be possible to say that the average wage has been effectively reduced by such stringent over-regulatory measures. I remember one year when the Inland Revenue decided to try and tax 'tips'. My dad was a milkman and suddenly found himself faced with a bill based on some sum that the Govt had dreamed up. As is commonplace with HM Rev & Customs they massively over-estimated the sums being given by his customers (think of a number and multiply it by twenty) and taxed it on basic rate to try and claim their share.

Go in high and settle lower seems to be a standard Govt tactic, probably one employed by M.P.s putting through claims for clearing their moat, shining their silver or polishing the platinum nose-cones of their private jets. All of these things are obviously necessary to ensure that he or she could properly perform his or her parliamentary duties, if they weren't being done by some serf or other then the worry would probably interfere with the important decisions they have to make, like how to efficiently run the country.

I suspect you get to an age where you expect this stuff, obtain a level of general life-experience that ensures that nothing of this kind really outrages you. We know there's one rule for them and a different one for us, it was always so. I enjoy seeing them squirm but I know that they'll wriggle out of it and even if there is change it'll still stay the same. You may call it cynicism, I call it realistic.

To boldly go......

2009-05-08T12:55:38Z

Watching an SF epic, like the new Star Trek movie, in IMAX is a humbling experience. It also spoils you - as watching one on the small screen will never seem the same, because it isn't. In IMAX you feel like you're actually in space.

Having never even seen a Star Trek movie at the cinema previously, seeing this one is a real revelation. You have to say that JJ Abrams got it spot on, and whoever did the casting deserves a medal. Ignoring the fact that Zachary Quinto was clearly born to play Spock, I'm constantly bewildered at how they continually find children who look like the actors - without casting their own children of course.

Anyway, it's wholly recommended - particularly in IMAX. For once all the good stuff isn't just in the trailor.

This says it all - in a truly genius style:

Trekkies Bash New Star Trek Film As 'Fun, Watchable'

Divide & conker

2009-05-07T15:27:09Z

Paul Flower

A non-belief in celebrity endorsement

2009-04-30T13:52:26Z

Regular readers, if there are any, will know that I have an interest in advertising. Without it I wouldn't be here as the website and newspaper would probably be economically unviable. I also make part of my living from advertising, rather than writing blogs that no-one reads.

Good advertising is great, a joy to behold. Bad advertising is an irritant, an intrusion, an unnecessary interruption to your viewing or reading. This week's essay is essentially about a sector of advertising that I've always reckoned runs too great a risk of backfiring - the endorsement ads.

You'll know them as any ad featuring a celebrity pushing a product. It's obvious why they're used - as the advertiser intends to instantly piggy-back upon your pre-held opinions of the star. The advertiser is buying the association, the glory and hopefully the transference of your feelings for the celeb to the product.

It's dodgy ground - particularly the beauty ads where you know that the star's glamour may have more to do with very expensive cosmetic surgery, hair extensions or even great genes rather than a £3 shampoo bought at Aldi.

There are other risks, particularly to the 'star' for taking the corporate dollar. I have already written about Iggy's Swiftcover foray here, so whilst I'm delighted that he's able to earn good money because he's a hero of mine I was a little perplexed at why he was chosen.

One of the ad executions spectacularly backfired because Swiftcover didn't swiftly cover musicians, in their favour they swiftly addressed that issue and with it gave an explanation of why Iggy was in the ads. It's apparently because he'd be recognised as having a fast-living-lifestyle.

I retain my concern as the small number of those who'd recognise him would be more likely to be appalled at him doing the ads than want to buy insurance as a result of it. The vast majority wouldn't have a clue who he was and therefore the point would be lost.

My greater concern of late is that endorsement or celeb appearances can have an effect opposite to that intended. For example keeping Kerry Katona in their ads might've seemed a noble move by Iceland given her documented troubles, but it possibly didn't do much for those of us who can't stand the sight of her. Personally I'd rather shop naked in Tesco than frequent a shop where the taint of her association would hang from you like the smell of de-frosted prawns.

Football sponsorship has similar issues for those of us who can't stand certain teams and would go out of our way to avoid manufacturers who might've given money to those sides. I still have friends who'll never buy Goodyear tyres.

I recently experienced the ridiculous effect of being worried about a product because of the endorsement associated with it. I was interested to read RJ Ellroy's book 'A Quiet Belief In Angels'. The reviews were good but there was a nagging doubt in my mind, and it'd been put there by Richard & Judy. I don't dislike R&J but I had the feeling that the books they were likely to recommend would not be the ones I'd want to read.

I, wrongly as it transpires, assumed that they'd be recommending books to fit their mass audience of large-ly female viewers. Things like historical romances and chick-lit fantasies or even the quickly spewed-out airport novels from the production line of James Patterson, et al. Whilst I admire their ability to turn out a novel, something I yearn to do, it doesn't mean I want to read them.

So R&J's endorsement almost prevented me reading the best book I've read this year (there have been 12 others, so it's not a small field) and one of the best I've read in many years. Put simply 'A Quiet Belief In Angels' is mesmerising in its use of language, a work of great prose and a joy to read.

I'm shamed that an endorsement kept me away from it for so long, but perhaps it guides me to the obvious cliché - you can't judge a book by its......readers.

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Beautiful video

2009-04-29T13:12:18Z

This is worthy of a much wider audience, regardless of whether you like it musically. Go see and be amazed.

http://vimeo.com/4347460

Pitch Battle

2009-04-22T14:03:41Z

Brouhaha is a great word, one that unfortunately seems better when vocalised than it looks in print. I almost never say it because I have a tendency to miss out one of the ha's, and I suspect it would make me sound like some poncey media-luvvy, which is quite possibly the case.

Brouhaha is a great way of describing the attention given to the less-than-perfect pitch at Wembley for the FA Cup semi-finals at the weekend, particularly as the brouhaha over the pitch was used to divert attention from the other matters having a more direct influence upon the results.

There is a sporting phrase often used in business-speak which talks of a 'level playing field', in the case of Wembley at the weekend it could be argued that it was particularly relevant. As all the teams had to play on the same pitch it was therefore an equal hindrance to both. Certain managers, like Sir Alex Ferguson, moaning loudly about it could be seeking a smokescreen to divert attention from the fact that they picked an inadequate team, resting key players for matches obviously deemed of more import. The state of the pitch could not be blamed entirely for the fact that Man U and Arsenal fans were short-changed by team selection errors, nor could it be blamed for Berbatov's pitifully weak and none-too-clever penalty miss.

We are now reaching the end of what seems to have been a very long football season; I refrain from calling it the pinnacle for reasons which will become obvious. This time around I have managed to double my misery. Not only did I have a season ticket to watch West Brom (often viewed through the fingers of one hand attempting to obscure my view of the defending) but I was also co-managing my son's under-10's team in the John Bryan Coventry Minor League, division C. For once I was unable to complain that I could do a better job than the manager, I couldn't.

I'm not sure to what extent I can compare the under-10's to their professional counterparts. There are probably as many tantrums and an equal number of fall-outs between team-mates, but I'm not sure how many of the pro's miss training or matches because they're on holiday or one or other parent couldn't get them to the ground on time or - as happened at least once - couldn't actually find the away team's ground.

I also didn't see the likes of Petr Cech or Brad Friedl perform brilliantly for half-a-season between the sticks and then decide they wanted to play outfield, or leave to join a rugby team, as happened to us. I will have to reserve judgement over whether it might have been preferable for Scott Carson to have done that at the Hawthorns.

One thing I can be certain of is that Alex Ferguson didn't have to referee home matches and take abuse from the opposing team's parents. Also that Tony Mowbray and Martin O'Neill never spent the ten minutes before kick-off patrolling the pitch looking to put sand and earth into the holes created by moles and rabbits in the period since the last match. This was an essential function to prevent multiple injuries and an imbalance in playing quality; maybe it'll earn me a job as part of the Wembley Stadium ground staff.

Thus we come back to the common ground. Football is a simple game at grass roots or otherwise - it's all about playing to your best ability and scoring more goals than the opposition. Consistency over the length of the season can also be a crucial factor and one that'll see Westwood Utd (my co-managed team) finish fifth and West Brom (my supported team) finish bottom. Everyone can play well sometimes, keeping it going in all conditions is key.

Maybe there are too many games, too many competitions. One of the more amusing comments made about the state of the Wembley pitch came from the mouth of Frank Lampard, who moaned about the number of extra events taking place at the stadium. Perhaps he meant extra events like FA Cup semi-finals which used to be staged at neutral provincial grounds but only recently moved to the national stadium. I wonder if Frank knows what brouhaha means.

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The parent trap

2009-04-16T17:08:37Z

Are any of us ever qualified to take on the responsibility of parenthood? We all think we're experienced, generally having had parents ourselves, but it seems to be one of those life-roles that can only be fully understood by entering the arena, at which point it's too late to find out that you may not be any good at it.

I went into parenthood rationally, planned to coincide with an age when I thought I'd be up to the job. Now I'm not so sure. My 10 yr-old-son already rejects my advice on how he should play football - and I'm the team's manager. Given that he's scored 19 goals this season and I never scored in four seasons of competitive matches, maybe he has the right idea. I just wish I could remember the exact age at which they both stopped listening, when did I cease to have an influence?

My daughter is on the cusp of being a teen. She still has five months to reach that milestone but has been building up to the role for the past two years. I definitely don't feel qualified to cope with it. I fear that all I can do is dig my trench and stand-by for all- out warfare; it looks like being a war of attrition.

It may be ironic that they're now reaching a stage where I feel like I can offer some guidance, some real life-lessons from a period of life I can almost remember. Now I can do the job, I'm prevented from doing so. Hence I can only write about it.

What would you really want your kids to know about life, without resorting to cliché? What would you tell them if you thought they would listen? How can you put these things in a simplified form that doesn't take on the patronising or mawkish tone of a greetings card? At risk of compromising all of the above I started to compile a list:

Life isn't learned, or lived, in a day but there's some benefit in living each one as if it is special.

You'll never know everything but you can learn new things every day.

A little self-belief can go a long way, too much is simply annoying.

Self-love is better than self-harm.

Unless you can see blood, it's never as bad as it seems.

Not everything, or everyone, is what it or they seem.

The drugs don't work, for long.

With most things the cost outweighs the benefits by far.

Most actions have related consequences.

Keeping your counsel is better than losing your head.

You can't resolve every argument, and you certainly can't win them all.

The last word isn't always the most important one.

Your parents are always right, particularly when they say you'll eventually become them.

I have no doubt that I could've continued this list, perhaps you'll add some. In the interim read this essential guide for parents on how to survive the teenage years, written by a war veteran, or generally someone more qualified than me.

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