Progressive Thoughts - Day 21

My favourite artist over the past couple of years is Steven Wilson, the man behind Porcupine Tree. Today’s song is called Insurgentes, the title track of his first solo album:

Steven Wilson has a great ear for melody and his more mellow songs are simply beautiful, as you can see from today’s choice.

A lot of his music has an underlying theme of melancholy and some of the subjects he sings about are quite dark. For example, the theme of his most recent album is based on the true story of a young woman who moved to the city and disappeared without anybody noticing, despite the fact that she had friends and family. She had died in her bedsit in London and her body lay undiscovered for two years.

When I hear stories like this I am deeply saddened and I wonder how the poor woman could possibly have been missed for so long. If this had been a work of fiction I would have been sceptical about such a thing happening.

But it wasn’t fiction at all and that exposes a massive flaw in the way society functions.

One of the points about the story is that if you live in a small community then everybody seems to know you whether they are your friends or not. I have seen this myself in small villages and towns I have visited.

Small places seem friendlier in many ways. For example, you can stroll into a pub in a country village and immediately local people take notice of you because they don’t know who you are. The same happens in shops and many people will strike up a conversation to find out about you, perhaps wondering if you are going to become a local yourself.

Small places have more of a sense of community and people bond with each other more than they do in a city.

If you live in a metropolis such as London or Manchester, the chances are that you will join millions of others shopping in a huge city centre, eating in one of numerous restaurants throughout the urban sprawl and drinking beer in a variety of pubs in different neighbourhoods. If, like me, you wander around the city you rarely bump into people you know while you are out and about especially the further you go away from your own home.

The point is that in a city like London you can be anonymous whereas in a small community this is more difficult.

At my current time of life, I am still captivated by cities and exploring the place is better if you are anonymous. I know a lot of people in Manchester as you would imagine but there are two and a half million people living within the metropolitan area and it is impossible to build such a sense of community. Manchester United football club regularly cram 75,000 people into the stadium for football matches – that is more people than the population of some small towns and if you ever visit the place it can be daunting when you are sitting in the top tiers of the stadium looking down at the thousands of people all united and focussed on the football.

To be honest, I try not to think about the anonymity in a big city and I imagine that as I get older the temptation to move to a smaller cosier place by the sea will become far more appealing.

Thankfully I am still young and mobile enough to have fun in the sprawl that is Manchester and I hope it continues for many years to come.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 20

Today’s song is Eve of the War, the first song on Jeff Wayne’s musical tribute to War of the Worlds.

I have loved this album since its release way back in the 1970’s and it is one of those rare things that Mrs PM and I share in terms of musical taste. A couple of years ago, Jeff Wayne toured the country with a full orchestra and lots of special effects to bring his concept album to the stage and Mrs PM came with me to see it.

The concert is to date the only one that we have both been to see and to be honest I can’t ever see this happening again.

For me, though the real triumph is the story. The book by H.G.Wells is one of my favourite novels. I first read the book at school at the tender age of thirteen. My English teacher introduced a lesson by suggesting that we all read a classic novel and write an essay about it.

Initially I was depressed because until that moment the term “classic novel” referred to an out of date boring tome by the likes of Thomas Hardy or, worse, a play by William Shakespeare. The school kept a library of suitable books and I immediately selected the book based on the title alone.

I devoured it!

I took it home and read it as voluntary homework and the essay I wrote sang its praises. I imagined I was present as the tripods marched across the English countryside systematically destroying all traces of humankind with the deadly heat ray.

The book also kick started my love of science fiction and horror novels generally. I have since read hundreds of books but few have had the impact of War of The Worlds.

I’ve also read other works by H.G.Wells, including The Invisible Man and the Time Machine. The latter book is also a classical favourite of mine and I was delighted about ten years ago when I discovered that an authorised sequel had been written by another science fiction author I enjoyed called Stephen Baxter.

The sequel was called The Time Ships and took the original premise of Well’s masterpiece and expanded it into a mind-blowing epic. If you like the original novel, you will love the sequel, although Baxter sometimes let’s his imagination run amok in a way that can be bewildering.

I also recently read an authorised  sequel to The Day of The Triffids called The Night of The Triffids  by a little known author called Simon Clark and it was certainly worth a read.

However, I have discovered that an authorised sequel to The War of the Worlds is about to be published, with the intriguing title The Massacre of Mankind. And even better, the author is the same guy who wrote The Time Ships, Mr Stephen Baxter.

Given the nature and style of the other books he has written, I imagine it will be phenomenal and I am really looking forward to reading it.

In fact, I would dearly love to have a go at writing a sequel myself and even though it would be totally dreadful, I would love it, mainly because it would tell the story as I think it should progress. In fact, it lends itself to more than one sequel in my view.

Maybe I’ll add that to my unending list of writing projects I am unlikely to ever start.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 19

Today’s song is called Slow Marching Band by the legendary Jethro Tull.

I’m pretty sure that Jethro Tull’s main man, Ian Anderson, wouldn’t like his band to be called a progressive rock band but sadly for him the powers that be have already etched their name in stone to the list of progressive artists.

As with the yesterday’s post, the song is about the end of a relationship so I’m not going to talk about that topic again.

Slow marching bands are also associated with funerals and the first thing that leaps to mind is the opening scene of one of my favourite James Bond films, Live and Let Die:

The scene always makes me smile because the whole elaborate event is staged just to kill a spy. Of course, in reality, the poor spy would just have been taken out without having staged a fake funeral just to cover the crime.

James Bond films are famous for being over the top and I love that. Sadly, they also make me wince because the villains always have the opportunity to kill 007 at least twice during the movie and, somehow, he escapes with his life.

The Austin Powers movies take this to the extreme and only Dr Evil’s son points out the stupidity of not killing the hero immediately:

In Moonraker, the evil Hugo Drax says:

“Mr Bond, you turn up with the tedious inevitability of an unloved season." 

“Mr Bond, you defy all of my attempts to plan an amusing death for you.”

Why the hell didn’t he just kill Bond with a gun when he first clapped eyes on him? Some villains have come close but never managed it.

Even Goldfinger bottled it with the laser beam.

If I were a villain in a Bond movie (and I could be because I’m English have mad hair) I would shoot him myself as soon as my henchmen had him tied up.

My final words would be simple: “Goodbye Mr Bond!” and I would ignore everything he said.

To be honest, it would make a terrible Bond movie and, of course, it would be the last one.

Nevertheless, it would enable me to turn the tables and start a franchise where the bad guy, i.e. me, has to thwart attempts by other agents who are Licensed to Kill from actually trying to stop my plans for world domination.

James Bond would be the first to fail and I would come against a new double O agent in each movie.

And I would have a fantastic bad guy name, something like Axel Rampage.

“Good evening, 001. Rampage by name, Rampage by nature. See you in the next life!”

BANG!

I might start writing the first screenplay called:

Licensed to Rampage.

It’s a well-known fact that bad guys have more fun and since I have been constantly overlooked in the Bond franchise, you can consider this my challenge!

Do you think my idea has legs, dear reader?

Progressive Thoughts - Day 18

Today’s song is called Space-Dye Vest by the brilliant progressive metal band Dream Theater. Again, this is a mellow slow burning song that may make you ask:

“What do you mean “Metal?”.

The song is quite sad and dark and reflects the pain of a relationship being over from the perspective of the person who was dumped while he struggles to get over the fact that everything is over.

There are so many songs about the pleasure and pain of love, so many in fact that often they are quite shallow.

Some, however, are quite profound and this is one of the better ones, both musically and lyrically.

I’ve only ever been dumped once and, to be honest, I could see it coming. I was 18 years old and the girl in question was the daughter of one of my parents’ best friends, so the family connection was quite strong, which is one of the reasons that other people took the break up more seriously than either of us.

As usual, I shall protect the identity of the girl in question by calling her Gwen.

Gwen was my second serious girlfriend. My previous relationship had ended a few months earlier and had lasted for over a year and my parents, particularly my mum, had reacted badly to that one.

“You’ve dumped that poor girl?” she had said angrily and demanded to know why.

I think she saw wedding bells even though I had only been 17 years old. So when Gwen and I got together, I think my mum was totally delighted; not only did I have a new girlfriend, the bonus was that she was best friends with Gwen’s parents.

It was a win-win for her.

The truth is that Gwen and I kind of drifted into the relationship because of our parents. We saw a lot of each other because of them and were already good friends. I was hopeless with the opposite sex at the time and blindly tried to chat up women who were out of my league, making a complete arse of myself every time. I was also very stupid because didn’t really see it when a girl liked me.

This was the case with Gwen and she made all of the moves.

Sadly, for her, I had just discovered the joys of alcohol and was in my final year at school with A-Levels on the horizon and at the same time looking for a place at university. I was also an arsehole generally.

The problem was that I was changing, both my appearance, my outlook on life as well as trying to calm down and stop being an arsehole. Gwen and I got together at totally the wrong time.

I spent Saturday nights in Walsall town centre drinking with my mates and then knuckling down with work the rest of the time. Gwen wanted me to spend time with her and, to be fair to her, I neglected her. When we got together the first thing she used to do was moan about how selfish I was. She was working and not at school so she didn’t understand what I wanted and what was driving me.

Nor did she understand that I needed to spend time with my best friends on Saturdays.

It was doomed and the inevitable happened after about three months.

I called at her house and she opened the door.

“Hiya,” I said.

“I’ve had enough,” she growled. “Why don’t you fuck off back to your boyfriend, Stan!!!”

Stan was my best mate at the time (that wasn’t his real name by the way – I just want to protect the guilty).

“Are you dumping me?” I asked, incredulously.

“I thought you were clever,” she said. “YES I AM DUMPING YOU!”

And then she slammed the door in my face, leaving me standing there shocked. I remained there for about a minute then burst out laughing. I realised at that point that I didn’t really care that I'd been thrown onto the scrap heap and instead, went to Stan’s house (as she had said) where we went to the pub to discuss it over a pint.

Strangely, the next time I saw Gwen, she was her usual self and we actually chatted like the old friends we were.

Gwen will always stand out in my memory, however. A few months after we split up, my dad died. My mum wanted to tell Gwen’s parents but she was a complete mess, so I took that responsibility. I walked the short distance to Gwen’s parents’ house and knocked on the door.

Gwen saw me coming and assumed that I was visiting her.

She opened the door with a smile and said “Hiya! What are you doing here?”

I looked at her and blurted out “My dad’s died!” and then burst into tears.

Gwen grabbed me and gave me a huge hug as I rested my head on her shoulder and wept like a baby, soaking her jumper. She dragged me into her house as I sobbed and gave the bad news to her parents who also fell apart in grief. Gwen made me a cup of tea and sat next to me holding me as if I were going to run away forever.

At that moment, I felt closer to Gwen than I had ever felt to her when we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

Sadly, I lost touch with her after I left Walsall but that one memory of Gwen comforting me is far stronger than just being an ex-girlfriend who dumped me for being an arsehole (which I deserved to be fair).

I will never forget what she did to comfort me.

Thanks again, Gwen.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 17

Today’s song is called Trains by the brilliant Porcupine Tree. This is a beautiful and thought-provoking song written, of course, by the amazing Steven Wilson.

You may initially think the song is about trains but there is much more to it than that. I think it’s a song about summer love and childhood with trains providing the hook for the memory of long summers past.

As I sit here typing this post in the deepest darkest depths of winter I long for sun and summer.

January and February are the worst months of the year for me and when they vanish I usually celebrate.

December is actually cold and dark too but at least we have Christmas to raise our spirits and make life enjoyable. Remove that and you just have cold, dark miserable January. It’s dark in the morning when I go to work and dark in the evening when I get back. The only daylight I see is through an office window so my daily two mile walk at lunchtime is just that little bit better – that is unless January weather has kicked in and decided to drop snow or what seems like the entire Atlantic Ocean on my poor head as I navigate the cold streets.

These two awful months are the low point and I actually start to feel slightly depressed. I don’t suffer from depression but somehow the dark grey skies and freezing weather haul my usually happy demeanour down towards despair.

However, I’m nothing if not optimistic.

I usually try to arrange a couple of things to make January a busy month so that I can take my mind off the negative aspects that January and February force to the surface. For example, I have a couple of gigs lined up and I am enjoying pouring my thoughts out to the world in a daily blog, as rubbish as they may be. I also have a trip to London arranged and a weekend in Chester enjoying an engagement party for some friends.

I will get through this with flying colours and as soon as the weather warms up and the buds appear signalling the arrival of spring, I shall smile a lot more.

And then summer will come with its wonderful long days.

Mind you, some British people may scoff at that last sentence because although the days are long, the weather doesn’t always play along. I don’t care because summer also brings with it the holiday season where Mrs PM and I will leave Britain’s shores to enjoy a break in places we know will be sunny and beautiful.

This year, we have a couple of holidays booked already and others planned.

For example we are visiting our friends in Abu Dhabi in April, taking time out to go to Dubai for a couple of days. In June we have booked a week in Corfu in Greece with my two lads. Later in the year we off for a weekend break in Madrid with friends before finally heading to Italy somewhere in September hopefully.

When I wake up tomorrow on a cold miserable January morning I shall subconsciously counting down to when the days warm up and grow longer and imagine myself walking around the English countryside on a sunny day or visiting a foreign city in a warm climate or perhaps even strolling along a beautiful beach with the sea lapping up to the shore.

I’ll get through this – I always do.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 16

Today’s song is by my current favourite artist, Devin Townsend. The song is called Bend it Like Bender! and is a very catchy song featuring the amazing Anneke van Giersbergen as a co-vocalist.

Devin Townsend’s music is more towards the Progressive Metal genre but a lot of his music is unique and experimental. In many ways when you hear a new album you aren’t always sure what you are going to get.

This song has elements of dance music in it, particularly the chorus and I can imagine it being played at a rock party to get people up onto the dance floor.

I would certainly join in.

I pointed this out to Mrs PM on New Year’s Eve when we were getting ready to go out. We were accompanied by my eldest lad and his girlfriend and decided to have a few snacks and a glass of prosecco before departing.

Mrs PM wanted to take control of the music. I stepped in.

“You are not taking control of the music,” I insisted.

“Why not?”  she said standing in front of me defiantly.

“Three reasons!” I said.

The first reason I gave was obvious. I simply do not like her music. I cannot stand listening to dreadful dance music with one dimensional lyrics that cover one of two things. These lyrics are either about chatting up members of the opposite sex whilst dancing and using the most innuendo driven hints known to man. Or alternatively, they discuss in sometimes graphic terms, the end result of successfully procuring a member of the opposite sex and the antics the two of them get up to in a bedroom afterwards – usually all night long. Don’t get me wrong; heavy metal and rock songs occasionally do the same but at least they cover other subjects too. Rush, for example, have only one song with word “love” in the title and that is from well over one hundred they have written and recorded.

My second reason was more in keeping with the company we were with. My son likes a wide range of music but he particularly loves rock music and heavy metal (heavier than the music I like in some cases). His girlfriend also likes some rock music including, bizarrely, “screamers”, which is heavy rock where the singers scream rather than singing. Again, in this case, her taste is closer to mine (although she does like some dreadful nonsense too).  Basically, Mrs PM was outvoted because the three of us hate Britney Spears and Rihanna.

My final reason was purely selfish. We were going to a large pub that would clear a huge area as a dance floor and allow people to strut their funky stuff for hours. The problem was that this music would be the kind of drivel you get all the time with terrible dance music, the odd old dance song and, if we were lucky, a vaguely interesting rock song. In short I would have to endure hours of music that I despise – as I usually do.

Mrs PM stared at me then looked around at my lad and his girlfriend for support.

“He’s got a point,” said my lad.

Mrs PM caved in and allowed me to control the music for an hour.

“Okay,” she said.

The good news for her was that I played music from across a few genres, including the song above as well as pop songs, rock, a smidgeon of metal, a pinch of dance music (for Mrs PM) and a soupçon of indie, punk and funk.

Later, I was chatting about how radio plays terrible contrived one-dimensional and repetitive music. I vowed to give up ranting so this was my final rant of 2016.

“I would love to be a DJ,” I said. “I would play all sorts of stuff. I want to be the John Peel of Manchester”.

John Peel was a bit of a hero of mine because he basically played music he loved rather than the playlists that the radio stations wanted him to play.

“Why don’t you create a podcast?” said my lad's girlfriend.

And do you know, I think I might consider doing that in future. I know a guy who does exactly that. He is a super cool person but his musical taste and mine are polar opposites. In fact, he sometimes reads this blog if you have any suggestions, let me know (you know who you are).

So maybe I will do this as a challenge for 2017.

After all, I have almost 7500 songs in my collection and there are vast oceans of music out there in cyberspace to fish from.

Watch this space.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 15

Today’s song is a classic from Pink Floyd’s amazing concept album The Wall, called Comfortably Numb.

There is a common misconception that this song is about drugs, particularly if you watch the video from the movie, which shows attempts to revive the main protagonist, played by Bob Geldof, who appears to be in a drug induced stupor.

Instead, claims Roger Waters, the guy who wrote the song, it is about a state of delirium brought on by illness – and the lyrics do confirm this could be the case.

Regular readers will know that I am a bit of a hypochondriac and have almost made myself ill on one or two occasions simply by reading symptoms of diseases, illnesses and ailments and convincing myself that I actually suffer from them.

I am largely over this now because I have trained myself to avoid reading about such things and as a result I live in blissful ignorance of all of the nasty little bugs that can render me useless.

Part of the problem is that I am rarely ill.

As a kid I caught everything going, but thinking about it, so did everybody else. I had mumps and measles but somehow managed to avoid chickenpox, despite my friends, sisters and even in later life, my kids succumbing to the disease.

I’ve had flu once.

I knew it was flu because I could barely move for a week. I spent several days in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, barely able to find the strength to eat or go to the toilet, opting to crawl to the bathroom when it became necessary. It was a totally unpleasant experience and, I guess, the closest I have ever been to being comfortably numb – although the truth is that I was uncomfortably numb.

I have never taken drugs, if you discount alcohol that is, so I’ve never been in a situation where I’m delirious, hallucinating or high on a weird powder. Also, I’ve never smoked although I have to confess that I did try it one time. I was at university and drunk. A friend offered me a cigarette and I stupidly took it and had a quick puff.

“That’s not what you do,” he said laughing. “Take the smoke right down into your lungs.”

Like an idiot, I followed his instructions and something terrible happened. My entire chest felt as if it were on fire and my mind was enveloped in a wave of dizziness which, when added to the effects of alcohol, triggered a rather nasty physical reaction.

I was in a night club at the time and I somehow managed to get to the toilet just in time to puke my guts up. Everything I had drunk and eaten for the past couple of hours was hurled into the toilet bowl and accompanied by a weird blue fog as the remains of the smoke I had inhaled also decided to leave my body.

That cigarette left me in a bad place and I promptly left the night club and returned home, vowing never, ever to allow a cigarette to approach my lips again.

Thankfully, now we have a smoking ban in the UK, I rarely have to even smell the stuff. In days gone by, a trip to a pub usually meant that the following day my clothes would stink of stale cigarettes. Pubs are now smoke free and I can tell the difference just walking into the places.

I often wonder what years of passive smoking did to my lungs. I can only hope that all of those years where we had to endure other people’s smoke didn’t have a bad effect.

I would look it up on the internet  but, being a hypochondriac, I think I’ll resist.