The Open Society and Its Enemies - Volume One - The Spell of Plato - Karl Popper

I have recently discovered my enthusiasm for reading about political philosophy and theory.  One book which I have just finished is the first volume of Karl Popper's "The Open Society and its Enemies", subtitled "The Spell of Plato".

This volume, written during the Second World War,  amounts to a lucid and well argued defence of democracy and individualism, and a critique of authoritarian and totalitarian approaches, with reference to the teachings of Plato and his ilk.  Popper looks at topics such as tribalism, historicism, social engineering and the notion of the "philosopher-king". There is also some analysis of the extent to which Plato's outpourings were determined by the social changes which occurred around his own time.

Although this book was originally published in the 1940s, much of its content is as relevant now as it ever was. It could serve as a handy refresher for jaded minds.

I will blog more thoughts when I have finished reading the second volume!

Rush (2013 movie) - DVD review

First of all, a confession. I did not see Ron Howard's  "Rush" when it was released in the cinemas. I fully intended to, but my September diary ended up being rather preoccupied with more pressing concerns. The movie's DVD release enabled me to catch up, and to commit these thoughts in blog form...

As a confirmed devotee of 1970s Formula 1, and something of an anorak on the subject, I resolved to put aside my reservations about the historical accuracy of the movie, and appraise it on its quality in artistic and technical terms. So within these parameters, what of "Rush"?

In short, the movie follows the fortunes of 1970s Grand Prix drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda, concentrating on their duel for the 1976 world title. What struck me about the film straight away was the almost semi-documentary flavour to it. The opening scene, set at the Nurburgring, serves as good exposition. This is accompanied by some rather hackneyed pseudo-philosophizing, of the type which has been obligatory in all racing movies since time immemorial.

As expected, the production values are high, although the computer-assisted trickery does not obscure the story-telling. Indeed, the racing scenes, although dramatic and at times striking, were almost incidental to me. I was much more interested in the exploration of the human dimensions of the tale, which after the shaky beginning are told in quite a refreshing and unpretentious way.

Clips and previews had conditioned my expectations regarding the performances of the main actors. Daniel Bruhl is indeed excellent as Lauda, and becomes more convincing as the story unfolds, really coming into his own after the Nurburgring 1976 accident.  Lauda's allegedly prickly and abrasive nature is played up for all it is worth, as is the playboy, non-conformist image of Hunt. Chris Hemsworth's performance as the latter came as a pleasant surprise, and he also manages to capture some of James' more laconic side.

The supposed eccentricities and foibles of every character, including team personnel, are magnified and accentuated, and it seems that the producers felt the need to pack in every known and recorded anecdote and incident involving the two men. Whilst watching, I almost felt the silent presence of a researcher ticking boxes on a "checklist" of items to include in the script. So yes, the "chapters" and content are composites of various things which did occur, many in different contexts and timescales, compressed for dramatic effect. What this all shows is that regardless of how things are presented, Hunt and Lauda, and indeed the era which they lived in, are simply splendid "raw material" for film-makers.

The Hunt-Lauda relationship depicted here is at variance with the generally accepted version, but as the narrative moves on, the dialogue becomes more incisive and cerebral, and feels less forced. The scenes sometimes feel short and staccato, but this is often the case with "biopics", where lots of information has to be included in different settings within a specified time.

The film manages to capture an appealing 1970s European/transatlantic aesthetic, invoking the music, fashions and social trends of the time, but not to excess. The more informal, less regimented atmosphere is well projected, even if the recreations of haircuts and clothes are not always totally on the mark....

I found the action sequences a mixed bag.  Exciting yes, but often looking a little contrived and clinical, even if a 1970s Grand Prix is always a fine sight to behold. The greatest impact is attained via the arty "in helmet" shots and those of suspension parts, tyres and steering wheels. They help to get across the sheer primal mechanical vigour of those cars.

"Rush" moves up a notch or two with the run-up to the 1976 season. The pace quickens, and things become more intense.  This really kicks in with the demise of the Hesketh team, and Hunt's anguish and uncertainty before the McLaren drive becomes available. The 1976 race scenes make good use of the camerawork and effects, helping to capture and encapsulate the pressures and the claustrophobia, as well as the gladiatorial nature of the sport.

The centerpiece of the movie, unsurprisingly, is the '76 German Grand Prix and its aftermath. An ominous and dark atmosphere of foreboding is skilfully created.  The Lauda crash is harrowingly but effectively done, evoking its true horror. The hospital sequences are moving without being mawkish, and are cleverly interspersed with clips of the F1 season continuing to progress in the Austrian's absence.  Daniel Bruhl truly shines in this phase, ably portraying the character's bravery and single-mindedness. One somewhat jarring note is struck by the scene at Monza involving Hunt and an intrusive journalist.

Needless to day, the season finale at Fuji is given the full treatment. Although drenched with CGI, the drama, emotion and confusion are recorded with some clarity.

Overall, I think that "Rush", while being glossy and "Hollywood" up to a point, also brings out the then still grimy world  of racing, that of the nuts and bolts and the oily rags. On its own terms, good quality entertainment, if hardly a cinematic masterpiece. In the end, much of the rumination and verbal sparring between James and Niki is solid and soundly judged. The final main scene, set in Bologna, is a good way to go out - dignified and reflective.

Stockholm 75

Of the documentary films which I have watched in recent times, one of the most interesting was "Stockholm 75", which was originally released in 2003, I believe. Directed by David Aronowitsch, it tells the story of Karl-Heinz Dellwo, a member of the Red Army Faction urban guerrilla group, who was imprisoned for his involvement in the 1975 siege of the West German embassy in Stockholm.

In the film, Dellwo explains his motivations for joining the armed struggle, and his thoughts and reflections from the perspective of the 21st century.  He also revisits the scene of the Stockholm siege and the prison where he was incarcerated, and discusses his experiences during a trip to see relatives. On the whole in the film Dellwo comes across as articulate, honest and realistic. Still clear in some of his long-held beliefs, but aware of where he and his colleagues may have gone wrong, and how his actions will continue to affect his life.

Dellwo gives his own account of how the Stockholm embassy siege proceeded, and offers his opinions as to the reasons for its outcome, and the negotiation stances adopted by the governments in both Bonn and Stockholm. He admits that it was a political and moral error to undertake the action.

There is widespread use of archive footage shot both during the siege, and in its aftermath. We are also shown clips from an interview which Dellwo and others gave while they were in prison.

The film's short duration (it lasts less than one hour) helps to give it real punch and impact. The interview segments are kept short and to the point.

A frank and well produced look at a difficult topic, which like any good documentary, will encourage the viewer to think more deeply about the issues tackled and research things further.

Computing Back Then

Over the past day or two, I have been watching a few documentaries pertaining to "old school" computing, and it got me thinking about the nature of my own computing experiences in far off days.

My computing days began, as for so many others of my age, with the home computer boom of the early 1980s. Up until 1982/83, I had no real idea that "ordinary people" had computers in their own homes. My eyes were opened after seeing a friend using his Sinclair ZX81 (called a Timex in the USA, I believe?). At Christmas 1983, after the usual "hard sell" to my mother, extolling the "educational benefits" to be derived, I received my first computer, the iconic ZX Spectrum.

The computers of that era were hugely limited and primitive by today's standards, but they had a magic and a fallibility that was strangely endearing, and a stark contrast to today's "templated" world.  The technical limitations were part of the magic. There was no social element to the 1980s boom, from my perspective. The only "networking" was a bit of desultory schoolyard chatter about the machines and games themselves.

As with other youth sub-cultures,  in the early to mid 1980s teenagers split into factions, owing their allegiance to a particular computer, and vehemently defending them against the contempt of others. As a Spectrum owner, the main "rival" groups were those people who favoured either the Commodore 64 or the BBC Micro.

C64 users tended to denigrate us because of the "superior" specification of their machine. It even had a proper keyboard! The BBC clique, on the other hand,  evinced a different kind of "superiority", based on the notion that the Micro was more suited to intellectual and erudite pursuits, unsullied by what they viewed as our juvenile inclinations. This "tribalism" seems foolish and petty now, although I guess it was innocuous enough when pursued by adolescents. I wish the same could be said about similar antagonisms practised in the 21st century by "grown ups"...

By about 1985/86, the appeal of computers was beginning to diminish, as other distractions intervened. My computer was consigned to a dusty corner, and fell into disuse, looking increasingly forlorn. I can't even precisely recall what became of it. It must have fall victim to some "spring cleaning" in the late 1980s or early 1990s. Apart from using PCs at work, my only contact with the IT world came with a brief flirtation with the idea of buying an Amiga...

It was only eight or nine years ago that I got another computer, and this was only because it was virtually given to me by a relative. Yes, the internet is wonderful, and I couldn't live without it, but I still look back with fondness and nostalgia at those far off days of miniscule memory, erratic power supply units and programs loaded by cassette....

Turbo times

Only weeks now remain before the new Grand Prix season commences in Melbourne, Australia, and the teams are going through the familiar rituals of unveiling their new cars, to be followed by testing. This year there is even more interest and conjecture than usual, as the engine regulations are undergoing a transformation. Normally aspirated V8s are out, to be replaced by 1.6 litre V6 turbo units.  All this talk of turbos reminds me of F1's previous experience with this form of forced induction motor, from 1977 to 1988.

I first became really interested in racing just as the turbos were beginning to make their presence felt. This was in 1981, when only Ferrari,Renault and Toleman were turbocharged, the French company having pioneered the "innovation" as far back as 1977. I remember that they were still regarded very much as a curiosity, and the Renaults in particular were plagued with poor reliability, although when they kept running long enough they demonstrated that they were the future.  The only question was precisely when that "future" would arrive, and when they would fully supplant the venerable Cosworth DFV.

The 1982 season was very much a transitional one in terms of the balance of power between engine philosophies. Ferrari in particular were slowly mastering reliability and driveability issues, and if Didier Pironi had not suffered grievous injuries at Hockenheim, it is probable that he would have become the first driver to win the title in a turbocharged car. In the event, the driver's championship was once again decided between men driving "atmo"-propelled vehicles.

By 1983, the pendulum had tilted decisively, and the spoils at most races were divided up between Ferrari, Renault and Brabham.  Even now, though, a Cosworth-powered car piloted by a particularly brave driver, on a circuit or in conditions which suited the unit's characteristics, could still prevail. Examples of this were Keke Rosberg at Monaco and John Watson at Long Beach. By this stage, however, even the Williams and McLaren teams had seen the writing on the wall, and had turbo projects in the pipeline.  I recall 1983 as the first real "turbo season", and it kind of passed me by, probably because the imminent demise of the DFV induced in me a form of disorientation. I was probably not the only one who was not yet totally prepared for this brave new world.

So was racing "better" when all or most of the field was turbo-equipped?  Well, it was certainly exciting at times, especially in qualifying around the mid-80s when some teams had in excess of 1000 bhp at their diisposal. Many still wax lyrical about Ayrton Senna's exploits in the Lotus Renaults, and of course there was Rosberg's 160mph lap at Silverstone in '85.  The early laps of some races, at least in 1982 and 1983, before fuel restrictions were introduced, were spectacular and frenetic, with the turbo runners seemingly intent on racing each other to destruction. Monza in 1982 was typical of this trend.

I know that several prominent journalists saw the turbo era of the 80s as one of the high points of the sport's history, because of the distilled, almost primeval drama which the technical developments encouraged, in qualifying most of all. Some offered the opinion that those cars were driven by "real men", and that they rewarded and magnified both bravery and finesse.However, there is also an argument for saying that the massive horsepower and performance differentials made it impossible to appraise driver capabilities, a perilous and unenviable task at the best of times.

As with much nostalgia, we tend to filter out the less agreeable aspects from our memories. In the 1984-86 period, the fuel rules turned some races into economy runs, and raised the spectre of cars running out of fuel in the closing stages of races. It was remarked at the time that qualifying, on stratospheric boost, bore little relation to the race, and was almost a separate event. It is significant that Alain Prost was the pre-eminent figure in mid-1980s F1, being able to juggle the vagaries of tyre wear, fuel consumption and strategy.

By 1986, Honda had begun to master the fuel consumption problems, and dominated the sport for the next two seasons, which contained much dreary and processional racing, as few could hope to match Honda's overall package for speed and reliability. By now, turbos had lost their way, the technology was becoming stale, and Grand Prix racing was looking a little tattered around the edges, with separate classes introduced for normally aspirated contenders, and some participants may have been looking further ahead, anticipating the forthcoming change in the engine regulations. Hence the utter McLaren domination of 1988, as the other manufacturers ceased developing their soon-to-be-redundant turbo engines.

Looking back, turbos, with their aura of extravagance and expense, seemed suited to the glitzy and thrusting 80s, and they broadly corresponded in direction and ethos with trends in other forms of motor sport at the time. The world has changed, though, and the rationale behind the reintroduction of turbos for 2014 is very different to that which triggered their heyday three decades ago.

It remains to be see what effect the 2014-generation turbos will have on the direction of the sport.  I somehow doubt that the raw, chilling and exhilarating spectacle of 1985/86 will return, but I remain cautiously optimistic that they will engender both some renewed technical interest and freshness, and a shake-up, however temporary, in the competitive order of things.

Pet Sounds - The Beach Boys - album review

Such an aura surrounds this album that on initial listenings the primary reaction can be one of disappointment or anti-climax. However, this is an album which demands repeated attention before the melodies and messages seep into the psyche. The process took a little while for me. I, like countless millions of others, was raised on the Beach Boys' naive but infectious hits of the earlier years. Undeveloped or immature musical antennae were ill-equipped to discern the musical signposts which pointed the way towards the glories of "Pet Sounds".

As time passes, the thing which occurs more and more to me about "Pet Sounds" is its overall cohesiveness, in musical and spiritual terms. This sets it apart from the Beach Boys' previous output, and that of many other people for that matter. The backing does not sound like it was created using conventional musical instruments, but by some otherworldly implements. This factor, and the conceptual unity of the subject matter, permit the songs to blend together seamlessly and naturally. The only blemish in this happy scenario is "Sloop John B", which comes perilously close to marring the whole effect....

Was this a Brian Wilson solo project in all but name? Well, he had been exerting greater artistic pre-eminence and control for a couple of years prior to these sessions, and it is fair to say that most of the other Beach Boys were almost reduced to cameo roles, Carl Wilson's glorious vocal on "God Only Knows" being one of these. Brian appears to have handled much of the singing on the album himself, and block harmonies are not as abundant as elsewhere in the Beach Boys canon. As had been the trend, top session musicians provided the bulk of the instrumental prowess.  In this respect, the approach was quite uncompromising, although the end result would seem to justify the thoroughness and care lavished on the production.

"Pet Sounds" shines like a beacon because of its distinctive character and sound when set against the other trend-setting and groundbreaking rock and pop releases of that period, including those by the Beatles and Bob Dylan. "Pet Sounds" almost existed in isolation, on the surface not influenced by its immediate contemporaries and "rivals". Conversely, it served as a shock or wake-up call to others, notably Paul McCartney.

It is possible to contend that "Pet Sounds" was an alternative way of viewing what was "going on" in the mid-Sixties, or maybe a slightly different way of interpreting or channeling the spirit of the era. Others had hinted at similar preoccupations, but this was presented as a fully-formed creation.

"Pet Sounds" has the same kind of immersiveness and all-encompassing engagement more normally associated with classical music. It appeals to the senses in a manner more subtle and surreptitious than most "rock" music. For all that, it is still replete with hooks and pop sensibility. In a sense, the voices and instruments are indivisible and indistinguishable from each other, all equally important in setting and expressing the emotions . One greater "mood piece", and a concept album before such a notion was fashionable.

The journey commences with something adhering to the concept, but which is also accessible - "Wouldn't It Be Nice".  The work is anchored and signposted with such gems as "God Only Knows" and "Caroline, No". For me though the tracks which most acutely exemplify the spirit of the album are the eerie instrumental "Let's Go Away for Awhile" and "Dont Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder).

Lest anyone form the idea that this is all sentimental candyfloss , there is also much angst and soul-searching in there ("I Just Wasn't Made For These Times", "I Know There's An Answer").  Brian Wilson famously dubbed "Pet Sounds" a "teenage symphony to God", and the record does depict and explore a range of emotions encountered by young people, but not exclusively by young people;the themes are universal.

Even allowing for its mystique and reputation, I imagine that "Pet Sounds" still confuses people when they first hear it, because it is so distinctive. If it wasn't as socially significant as other records of its time, then as an artistic achievement it still stands up today.  In a strange way, it both operates as a monument to its time, and exists outside the strait-jacket of being categorized as "sixties", because of its dreamy and ethereal flavour and its sonic composition. Even the sleeve photograph, which has come in for much ridicule, somehow adds to the effect. By 1966, artists were expected to come up with outlandish or esoteric cover art. On "Pet Sounds", the words and music say all that needs to be said....

Some Girls - The Rolling Stones - album review

Much misty-eyed mythology surrounds the recordings which the Rolling Stones made during the period 1968-72, and indeed those prior to that, and it is commonly asserted that much of the band's existence since then has been spent living off past glories, and that their albums have often been made on auto-pilot. However, the 1978 record "Some Girls" emphatically gives the lie to this view, and stands comparison in its own way with anything in the Stones' catalogue.

There were numerous reasons for this sudden re-invigoration.  Personal problems, creative inertia and a changing musical landscape appeared to be conspiring against the Stones as the Seventies moved towards their conclusion. People were asking whether the Stones were still relevant,and if they had run out of steam artistically.  This tight and zestful set was an resounding response to such misgivings.

Being perceived as having their backs to the wall, the defiance shines through on "Some Girls", as if they were simultaneously putting a metaphorical two fingers up to the world, and revelling in the refuge and escape offered by music. It has often been said that this was the point where Mick Jagger began to stake a claim to de facto leadership of the band, but the sentiments were collective.

The focus, energy and strength of purpose could not present a starker contrast with the relative lethargy and nebulousness of the previous three studio albums. Yes, the emergence of punk and disco did contribute to the album's mood and content, but not to the extent that the Stones simply wrote and recorded "punk and disco songs". They absorbed the ethos and vitality of those two genres, and the consequences revealed themselves naturally within a broadly familiar framework. This is still very much a "Rolling Stones album".

One of the most startling features of "Some Girls" is the dearth of instrumental padding and decoration. Many of the songs are performed at a hefty rate of knots, reflecting perhaps a mixture of anger, frustration and even liberation from the directionless and torpor of the years which went before. The modern Stones sound is taking shape, seen in the guitar interplay and the nature of the riffs.

The resolve possessed by the band is amply displayed on the album's opener, "Miss You". Much has been made of its "disco" leanings, but I would also argue that it is part of the broader trend of rock bands in the Seventies to embrace more rhythmic and funky patterns (Little Feat, Steely Dan). The sleazy electric piano and guitars, and punchy rhythm section, allied with a sneering Jagger vocal, give it its potency

The breathless immediacy which pervades most of "Some Girls" really kicks in on the second number, "When The Whip Comes Down". Freshness in abundance.

The pace is maintained with the cover "Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)". This is not a straight cover version, and the Stones' rendering shows a strong power pop/new wave sensibility.  It has a spontaneity to it, as if it was being performed at a sound check a few hours prior to a gig. This is not a criticism, and a lack of the over-reach and artifice often associated with cover versions is a joy to behold.

Moving on to the title track, and leaving aside the controversial lyrics, this son typifies the approach and mood on the album. Very bluesy and raw, accentuated by the harmonica and the ragged vocal harmonies. The Stones' "bad boy" image and notoriety was kept flickering by songs like this. The melody is simple and straightforward, but powerfully delivered.

"Lies" is stripped down, frenetic, almost minimalist.  "Meat and potatoes" one could say, but a statement of intent, and far from dull or pretentious. "Respectable" is similar in character, but is marginally more tuneful, and lyrically more decipherable, if not containing much in the way of emotional or psychological depth!

Of all the Stones' excursions into the domain of country music, "Far Away Eyes" is one of the most authentic and sincere, but equally one of the least entertaining or memorable. Some relief is introduced by "Before They Make Me Run", forming the usual Keith-on-lead-vocals slot, with what appear to be semi-autobiographical lyrics.

"Beast of Burden" is one of the most durable of Rolling Stones songs. High quality pop/rock which has stood the test of time. This one contains more intricate guitar work, and a more considered and complex melody. The album closes with "Shattered", another quick and sparse rocker, exhibiting a vaguely 50s flavour, and redolent of some of the New Wave sounds which would appear in the years ahead. A slightly odd choice to conclude the album?

So there we have it, "Some Girls" by the Rolling Stones. No-nonsense rock n roll, packing a considerable punch, and exuding the restless vigour of the those times. After this, the Stones enjoyed a new lease of life, and it was both a symptom and a cause of their continuing strength. Above all, it is an enjoyable and important collection of songs.