David Bowie's Berlin Trilogy

 I have in the past couple of years, belatedly and rewardingly, become a wholehearted and fully-fledged adherent to the notion that David Bowie was perhaps the most important and influential solo artist ever to emerge from Britain. Even now, I think that many people under-estimate just how good he was.

Bowie's period of greatest creativity and consistency arguably spanned the years between, let us say, 1969 and 1984. He maintained a remarkably high standard allied to what, looking back, seems a prodigious work-rate. It seems barely credible that he managed to cram so much into the time available. Writing and recording, not to mention touring and engaging in various side-projects as producer and collaborator. That's before we even get on to his acting career! This productivity and prolific output remain one some of the most notable aspects of the Bowie story.

For what it's worth, my personal view is that his work in the period 1970-73 remains his most vital and his most enduring. The other clearly identifiable series of works which attracts most praise, comment and scrutiny is the so-called 'Berlin Trilogy', released between 1977 and 1979, in the form of the albums 'Low', 'Heroes' and 'Lodger'. 

I approached this blog article with a vague sense that the trilogy had received slightly excessive praise, that the critics had grasped hold of these records out of relief, following Bowie's musical excursions and meanderings of the mid-1970s. Anyway, in order to confirm or refute my tentative analysis, I resolved to review the three LPs and commit my conclusions and observations to blog form.

Of course it is debatable whether the sounds unveiled on 'Low' were genuinely new or revelatory to the music-listening public at large. Groups such as Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream and, to a lesser extent, Can and NEU!, had acquired some attention on both sides of the Atlantic, so this brand of experimental work came as less as a shock than some might might have us believe. This, however, was an established, mainstream rock "superstar".

It is worth mentioning how much of the material on 'Low' is instrumental - 'Speed Of Life' and 'Sound and Vision' (sort of !) for example. Bowie was clearly sufficiently enamoured with this type of music to take this step. It was also a sign of his confidence and comfort with the new technology which he was utilizing.

'Low' has its hard edges too, and an uncompromising side to it . Songs such as 'Breaking Glass' display no little aggression. It may be that some of the rhythmic vigour was a legacy of the 'Station to Station' album. The directness could also have been prompted by the shadow of punk, which was making a genuine impact in Britain in 1976/77.

By and large the synthesizers and the experimental features do not come across as gimmicky. Bowie and his colleagues managed to make it sound as though this was a perfectly logical new direction, but also a matter of wrapping some familiar Bowie hallmarks in dynamic new clothes.

Like its two successors, 'Low' is not quite as 'experimental', not quite as much of a departure as might be deduced from some of the comments one hears and reads. Traditional song structures and musical basics still just about predominate, although songs such as 'Always Crashing In The Same Car' and 'Be My Wife' would have been regarded as unusual by more vanilla circles in 1977.

There is a uniformity of sorts to the musical palette of 'Low'. Meaty, big drums and sinuous bass lines, overlaid by keyboards and guitars. A few years ago this recipe might have assailed my ears as 'synthetic' or 'soulless', but I know better now.

The second half of the record is where much of the interest resides. 'A New Career in A New Town' is quite radical-sounding, with the influence of Can detectable in its quieter moments. As with most of other other numbers, there is plenty going on to hold the attention.

'Warszawa' is on on another level, both emotionally and sonically, to what surrounds it. A brooding 'semi-instrumental', bearing the stamp of Brian Eno. Making clever use of 'wordless vocals', it is perhaps the centrepiece of the album. Like other parts of the album, it is distinctly 'central European' in its influences.

'Art Decade' is almost a continuation of 'Warszawa'. As for 'Weeping Wall', there once again is that irresistible, intangible pull, atmospheric in a way that even the other quasi-instrumentals cannot quite manage.

The closer, 'Subterraneans', which was apparently inspired by East Berlin, is appropriately unsettling and stark, and features a great and evocative saxophone solo. 

To be fully appreciated and understood, 'Low' has to be listened to in its entirety and 'in sequence'. Only this way can one grasp and comprehend where Bowie was in 1977, and where his thoughts were leading him. The result is a measure of his imagination, his curiosity and his restless energy. My esteem for this work has been elevated a notch.

'Heroes' commences with 'Beauty and The Beast', which in part appears to take up where Side One of 'Low' left off.  Robert Fripp's guitar contributions add something to the mix, literally.

The title track of 'Heroes' is, of course, justly celebrated and revered, and it does embody those traits which made David Bowie so important and rewarding. The song is even sometimes cited as a "hinge" uniting two eras of rock music, or at least signifying a change.

I would say that this record feels considerably less "Berlin" in character and substance than 'Low', There could be more than one reason for this perception. The overall mood is more cheerful and less foreboding, perhaps reflecting what was going on in Bowie's mind and life. Also, what instrumental fare there is on 'Heroes' is different to that which formed the backdrop to 'Low' - although 'Sense Of Doubt' tries its best!

Other instrumental passages on 'Heroes' are more purely ambient in nature; 'Moss Garden' is the main example of this. 'Neukoln' on the other hand is more avant-garde than menacing; great saxophone part, too.

Whether all this makes it a more pleasant and congenial LP to listen to is still I guess a matter of personal taste or inclination. To me, it lacks a little of the gravitas and measured mastery which were so palpable with 'Low'.

So, it is a more buoyant and 'ebullient' record than the one which came before it, but this does not equate to 'better' or 'superior'. It lacks the philosophical depth and emotional power of 'Low', notwithstanding the presence of the 'Heroes' song itself.

It would not be surprising if the initial energy which was summoned up on 'Low' could not be sustained, leading to a slightly different type of record. Who knows, Bowie may have wanted it that way....

To be frank, I have never really associated 'Lodger' with the other two, and it often seemed that the reason for its existence was that it was an album which followed those other two, and journalists and others could therefore speak in terms of a 'trilogy'. If anything, my mind links 'Station to Station' with the series more than 'Lodger',

Also in my recollections, 'Lodger' has been linked to the musical trends of 1979 and beyond, rather than connection with some thematic or stylistic continuity from before. This may be because 1979 was the year when I first became truly interested in music on anything more than a superficial level. I was too young to remember the hype and chatter about 'Heroes' or 'Low', and the profound outpourings of critics and observers would have gone completely over my head, anyway. It was interesting to see how 'Lodger', more freed from the aforementioned preconceptions, would stand up.

The 'world music' content and orientation have been cited (Middle Eastern, African), but they hardly jump out at me. If Bowie was indeed exploring such genres, it would be typical of his ceaseless search for inspiration and knowledge. It would also be characteristic if those styles were absorbed into his musical framework in a subtle manner. 'Yassassin' does have quite an impact, the first truly impressive track on the album.

After a sluggish beginning the pace and the intensity pick up; 'Red Sails' maintains some momentum, with echoes of the German group NEU!. 

'D.J' reminds me of Talking Heads, and it presages some of the material which would be found on the 'Scary Monsters....' record. The song has some conviction to it, and this goes a long way.

Some of the songs ('Look Back In Anger') are illustrative of the artist's uncanny knack of anticipating trends (or alternatively of harnessing forces already present underground). Quite a lot of 1980s music can be heard in 'Lodger', as with the two previous albums, but presented here in more digestible and compact form.

Sound-wise 'Boys Keep Swinging' starts almost like 'son-of Heroes'.  I remember this song being played heavily on British radio in that year of 1979. It bears some Bowie trademarks, the relatively simple 'rock n roll' melodic and rhythmic foundation, the enigmatic lyrics and the backing vocal arrangements and 'horns'. It was the obvious choice as a single. Traces of 'Diamond Dogs' and 'Blue Jean' can also be heard within it, methinks.

The album does rather tail off after 'Boys Keep Swinging'. The track sequencing perhaps left a little to be desired?

So, how do I sum up the Berlin Trilogy? The three works each possess their own identity. 'Low' remains the most substantial and impactful, the most radical and the one which adheres most recognisably to the Berlin 'concept' (if indeed there was a concept), in artistic terms at least. 

'Heroes' is also excellent, but appraisal may have been skewed ever so slightly by the hold which the signature tune has on our collective consciousness.

'Lodger' is good in parts, but it lacks the edge and the breadth of ideas which propel the other two records towards some kind of greatness.

Above all, these three albums show Bowie's fearlessness, his openness to new ideas, the vigour of his quest and his refusal to settle for easy options or to tread water artistically. Overrated, underrated, it is almost irrelevant. These are important collections, and they should be experienced by every serious student of rock music. Their legacy continues to be heard and felt in our music and culture in 2022. 

Visions Of The Future, from 1960s Television

 I recently watched some episodes of the television series created by Gerry Anderson and his colleagues. These programmes were Thunderbirds, Captain Scarlet and The Mysterons, and Joe 90.

Back in the day Anderson and his team were lauded for their vision of a future which seemed optimistic and quite progressive, envisaging a prosperous, technologically advanced and comparatively harmonious world. Just how accurate and perceptive were these "predictions" and imaginings, and how desirable would those outcomes really be?

The above mentioned programmes were all set in "the future", in the case of Joe 90 roughly our own epoch (the 2010s), and the other two were apparently meant to have taken place in the 2050s or 2060s.

It is clear to me that the shows in question were produced against the backdrop of 1960s optimism and idealism and, some might say, naivete. It could be that the visions contained in the episodes represented a mixture of what the makers anticipated would transpire, and what they hoped for.

In broad terms, the programmes seem to envisage some form of "federal" global structure, with world government agencies and functions, and much emphasis on international co-operation. The main threats are perceived to emanate from rogue (smaller?) nations, potent criminal elements and corrupt business interests. It is curious to think in those terms, as I type this in the Summer of 2022....

The expectation appears to be that large corporations will still exist, and that they will wield considerable power and influence. My interpretation, for what it is worth, is that Anderson and Co. were predicting that, on balance, corporations would be a benevolent force, fulfilling a "progressive" role in society. The current evidence would suggest that the reality will be more mixed and ambiguous, to say the least. 

To me it is noteworthy that environmental and ecological issues are touched on relatively infrequently by these 1960s creations. Nuclear power and fossil fuels are shown as still being quite pervasive, although there is some mention of innovations in the fields of renewable and alternative energy sources. 

As we now know, the importance of green considerations will likely precipitate changes in social and economic conditions far beyond what these creative people from the Sixties expected. This might be explained in part by the fact that the ecology movement was comparatively under-developed and basic in the 1960s, and did not really gather momentum until the decade which followed. In one Thunderbirds episode, scientists are seen trying to discover new ways of boosting livestock and the world's supply of meat!  Clearly knowledge of such topics, and their impact on the planet, was quite unsophisticated, even limited, back then.

When the series in question are discussed, it is often stated that they imagined a "utopian" future. However, looking critically at the economic and social structures which were portrayed, genuinely profound change is not evident. Rather than being "utopian", I see their outlook as progressive-liberal, and certainly not radical in terms of the way that life was expected to develop or evolve.

The attitudes exuded by the characters and people in the stories do not signal any major shift in attitudes, values or beliefs, no big "Enlightenment 2.0". Selfishness, greed and ignorance are still shown as existing, but the Anderson view of human nature seems to be optimistic. The link between socio-economic changes and shifting attitudes may be instructive, in that the extent of the former could be dependent on the magnitude of the latter. Little suggestion, of course, that man-made laws might corrupt people or instil harmful habits or ideas.

I must say that I rather like the future architectural and design trends postulated in these productions. They are in accord with my own "modernist" tastes and inclinations. Maybe these patterns were conceived in the light of things which were around in the 1960s, but which were seen then as futuristic and cutting-edge?

The issue of social stratification, and the class system, is one area of these Anderson programmes which seemed to conflict mildly with other anticipated societal developments. The programmes appear to depict, certainly in Britain and even elsewhere, a society where class distinctions are still very much entrenched and palpable.

One area of the thought-world of those productions, especially Thunderbirds, which intrigues me is the "military" involvement and influence in "civilian" affairs and sectors. People of a military bearing, and sporting military-type uniforms, are seen fulfilling functions which these days we would hope and expect to be carried out by more technically-orientated people. 

It seems that the producers saw the future as being an arena of technological progress, but not necessarily as a prodigious driver of social transformation or deep-rooted human emancipation; just making life "easier", but just as hectic and bewildering. In other words, alienation and social exclusion would remain as ills, insidious trends inhibiting change in some areas.

The balance of economic relations and power, and the centralization of power, would likely remain unchanged. Progress? That depends upon how you define and quantify "progress". There has to be at least a gesture towards something more meaningful and far-reaching.

Gerry Anderson's world of the future may indeed be the one which comes to pass, given the current balance of forces, prevailing "wisdom" and policies. We should bear in mind, though, that we as citizens of the world have it within our power to change this state of affairs, at least in theory. Personally, I hope that at least pointers to something more radical are evident by the forthcoming decades in question. 

One area where the 1960s creators underestimated the likely scale of development was in the areas of "information technology" and communications. There is little suggestion (to my eyes and ears) of anything resembling what became the internet, although they did admittedly foresee some other leaps and advances.

Despite nurturing a hopeful verdict on human nature, some of the "villains" and antagonists in Anderson programmes appear to presage that egomania and megalomania would continue to pose problems and present obstacles for genuine progress and tranquility, and lead to some grief and suffering for "mere mortals". This is in addition to pride, intransigence, arrogance and narrow-mindedness. Sadly, they were probably right in expecting this to be the case. Changes in attitudes would be needed to militate against this, and such changes could be accelerated by reforms to socio-economic systems.

Above all, I think that the only partial accuracy of the predictions amply demonstrates just how quickly and profoundly our world can change in short stretches of time, thus confounding the experts and the futurologists. No doubt if I am around to write a similar article to this in 2050, I will have to revise several of my judgments on the forecasts of the makers of those television shows.

 

Formula 1 Fanatic - Koen Vergeer

Maintaining the momentum of my recent reading adventures, that is seeking some perspective and meaning from my library of motor sport-related books, I turned to a title which had hitherto escaped my serious attention; Formula 1 Fanatic, by Koen Vergeer.

Originally published in Dutch, and first seeing the light of day around 2003/2004, this is essentially one person's account and appraisal of his interest in, or obsession with, the sport of Formula 1 racing, going back as far as the early 1970s.

Some of the early chapters genuinely struck a chord with me, bringing strongly to mind my own burgeoning immersion in the same world, although my journey commenced approximately a decade after Vergeer's.  There is a temptation for me to feel embarrassed or defensive about the nature of my early "fandom", and the naivete which was at the heart of it, but this is tempered when we appreciate that we all go through such phases at that stage of our lives. Let's face it, such diversions are probably more healthy and harmless than much of what we will engage in later in life.

I found the author's opinions and interpretations on some matters refreshingly different and well argued, especially his thoughts on some of the historical personalities and events of the F1 world. His opinions on people such as Nelson Piquet are very interesting. It is nice to get a fresh view, detached from the stereotypical portrayals which become so prevalent and self-perpetuating.

The version which I have read is the English one, and it may be that the translation from the Dutch accounts for some quirks in the language and words used, but this does not detract from the central mission; nor do the occasional factual inaccuracies.

Working my way through Formula 1 Fanatic, it was difficult to ascertain a particular ethos or mode of thinking as regards racing. Beyond the usual mild idealism, for me a certain ambiguity emerges, and it could be convincingly argued that this is a good trait to have for a Formula 1 devotee.

The anecdotes concerning the writer's experiences in following racing are strong and quite evocative, and they come over as sincere. Importantly, they do not become excessively sentimental, and they are instrumental in building the picture. These passages help to lift the book above the mundane, and to make it a genuinely stimulating and valuable "memoir".

In my estimation, the book really comes into its own with the series of chapters which examines the careers, strengths, weaknesses and vagaries of the leading drivers of Vergeer's era. The author demonstrates a keen sense of nuance in looking beyond mass-media platitudes, whether it be analysing Ayrton Senna's beliefs or the psyche of Damon Hill. Vergeer comes close to laying bare the very essence of Formula 1. These are frank and in-depth appraisals, and they are a pleasure to read.

In amongst all this material, I was made keenly aware that Formula 1 has somehow, since the early 2000s, become too "ordinary", too anodyne. It has lost sight of its mission, and its raison d'etre has become distorted and diluted. When certain things happened, for example some of the Prost/Senna confrontations, I was repelled, but after having relived the salient points in this book, I was reminded at what a stratospheric level - sporting, psychological and human - that drama was played out. Despite what today's hyperbole and PR spin might attempt to convince us, there will never be anything to compare with Prost versus Senna. It was not really manufactured or contrived, more a case of inevitability.

There is a sharpness and an acuity in the author's outlook and observations, and his weighing of factors, which truly impressed me. The "philosophical" sections are relatively brief, but thought-provoking, and perhaps even more relevant in 2022, almost two decades after the original publication of Formula 1 Fanatic. Questions about the sport's relevance and "soul" are more pressing and pertinent than ever before.

I was gratified to see that the Schumacher-Hakkinen epoch of the late 90s and early 2000s is given due prominence and attention. As the author hints at, this was the sport distilled down to its core - pure unalloyed F1, in which all of the elements which make (made?) the sport unique were tested. Perhaps the last era of its type which we will ever see, save for flickerings such as Suzuka 2005. Vergeer covers the 1998-2001 years in some detail, and with some style and shrewdness.

Increasingly I sensed that the author and myself were on something approximating to the same wavelength. I could identify with many of his sentiments about accidents, about having to defend and explain this passion with outsiders and "non-believers", as it were. There is also the ambivalence which regularly rises to the surface, almost a form of shame, and that "addictive" quality. Many readers will I am sure find themselves in accord with the writer's feelings and emotions.

Rightly or wrongly, I detected another characteristic; a tacit acceptance that some unpalatable things cannot interfere with "the show" and that, despite occasional protestations and periods of disaffection, the compulsion to watch or follow still remained. 

As mentioned above, the manner in which the author relates pivotal Formula 1 moments to his own personal experiences and memories gives his writing an additional dimension. His life has grown and changed with the sport, along with some striving to retain some of the innocence and simplicity of those earlier days.

This is an astute and well thought-out book, quite absorbing . Putting aside (very) minor reservations, this is a rewarding read. Much more authoritative and credible than supposedly more "cerebral" motorsport "literature". 

Taking a broader view, this book furnished me with an enhanced feeling of how confident, vibrant and assured the world seemed in the late 1990s and early 2000s. If only they, and we, had known that stormy waters (and storm clouds) loomed ahead, in the form of economic crises and other traumas, and what appeared to be a general loss of nerve. At the same time, when I reflect on my own navigation of those "good" times, it may have been too good to be true. Short-termism, a blindness to certain fundamentals, and a failure to address pressing issues. The last decade or so may well have served as a form of reckoning.

Inside The Mind of The Grand Prix Driver - Christopher Hilton

Following my reading of the book Deadly Obsessions, I threw myself into another motor-racing-related work, Inside The Mind of The Grand Prix Driver, written by the late Christopher Hilton (the edition I read dates from 2003). The latter book covered similar ground to Deadly Obsessions, but felt more substantial and absorbing in some respects.

I am not really sure to what extent the book truly gets "inside the mind" of the driver, but I found this to be quite an engaging and illuminating look at the world inhabited by racing pilots, tending to belie some of the assessments which I have seen elsewhere. The interviews with drivers are very revealing, and often entertaining.

There are some valuable nuggets of information about the career paths of certain drivers, and we see how precarious and stressful the driver's existence is, with constant anxiety about job security and one's status within team and sport.  It is true to say that the pressures and the intensity rise with each passing year, but it sounds as though the situation was pretty fraught and demanding even in the early 1980s!

The recollections of various Grand Prix competitors really do bring home the notion of the "survival of the fittest" being one of the main guiding principles of the F1 firmament. To many this might seem like an indictment of the sport, a recognition that one must be ruthless and grasping in order to not just succeed, but merely survive. On the other hand, I was quite inspired by being immersed in this rarefied atmosphere, where the mental and psychological faculties and capabilities are stretched to the limits.

Some of the drivers do come across as deluded in their assessments of their abilities, achievements and relative worth, but these traits have to be placed in the context of the necessity to survive, the nature of the beast. Outsiders, real outsiders, would have difficulty comprehending and appreciating all these things. Anything that helps them cope....

In one or two cases I was left wondering whether the drivers' pronouncements constituted posturing and bravado, a front which enabled them to navigate choppy and hostile waters. I suspect that many "lesser lights" have to put on an act, whereas the true greats can more or less take certain attributes for granted, without having to constantly broadcast their prevalence or importance.

It is pointed out in the book that after they retire from racing some drivers mellow, realise that they no longer require "extreme" attitudes or motivations. Others may have been "contaminated" more profoundly by their experiences and remain in "F1 mode" long after they hang up their helmets.

One of the tests of a book for me is the degree to which it instilled in me an enhanced knowledge and understanding of a subject at hand. This work, on balance, does pass that test. The contributions of Jonathan Palmer, Julian Bailey, Perry McCarthy, Martin Donnelly and Allan McNish I found especially instructive, for differing reasons.

To return to the theme which I sought to develop in my article about Deadly Obsessions, did I learn anything from the Hilton book about how the world has changed in the past two decades? Not really, as this is a drier and less emotive exploration of the F1 community.

Deadly Obsessions - Life and Death in Formula One - Phil Shirley

Upon reviewing my bookshelves in the Spring of 2022, it has come to my attention that many of the books which reside on said shelves are of a similar vintage. Most of them were purchased or received over ten years ago, and I am left wondering how "dated" some of them have become, and to what degree their philosophical orientation, apparently to my approval back then, remains so today.

I decided to treat one book as a "test bed" for my theories. Picked almost at random, my gaze alighted on Deadly Obsessions - Life and Death in Formula One, by Phil Shirley. This work, which was originally published around the year 2000, is essentially an exploration of racing drivers' attitudes towards their chosen profession. Whilst the book was not exactly a masterwork, it did serve my purposes. I think the world started to change when I was not looking, or at least when I was not paying sufficient attention.

The odd factual error, and the occasional inconsistency, did ever so slightly mar my enjoyment of Deadly Obsessions. That said, there is some valuable and intriguing material in the book, although I gained the impression that the author embellished certain episodes in order to replenish his supplies of case studies. 

How convenient also that some of these drivers apparently encountered "premonitions", and contemplated withdrawing from the events in which they would perish or be injured. The talk of premonitions and such-like should be treated with a drum of salt.

The thought occurred to me that this type of analysis of motor racing and its participants is out of kilter with todays sanitized, digital, video-game-like incarnation of the sport. In 1999, some semblance of the visceral and gladiatorial pursuit of yore remained, or at least was detectable in recent memory.

To return to my original premise, what piqued my antennae when shuffling through the pages of Deadly Obsessions was just how noticeably the world has altered in some respects, by way of tone, outlook and "narrative", in the space of two-and-a-bit decades. The roots of some of these shifts were admittedly already present in 1999/2000, if one was smart or perceptive enough to know where to look.

Talk of "masculinity" and "male identity" would clearly, ahem, raise eyebrows if employed nowadays. I do think, however, that examining and discussing such topics is still valid, if one embraces a more inclusive mindset overall.

In more general, "moral" terms, I sense that the mentalities and attitudes, or at least some of them, on display in the book, would be eschewed even by todays Formula 1 competitors, against the backdrop of a more sentimental, hyper-sensitive age. The views on "life and death", safety and risk have changed, if perhaps not as radically as some might imagine, The opinions of Jacques Villeneuve, for example, on such matters would be even more vigorously debated and scrutinized now than they were around the turn of the millennium.

One thing which I liked about the book was its use of short, snappy and digestible chapters. The book was also instructive, in that it illustrated a certain demarcation in philosophies and approaches between drivers. These separations might well have been mirrored in "real life". There were (and are) the rationalists, the romantics, the pragmatists and so forth.

This was not too bad a read, although I think my appraisal of its literary merits have to be viewed in the the context of how my horizons in this area have broadened since 2010. Reading classical and modernist literature, and studying the work of the great philosophers, can render other types of reading matter rather mediocre and shallow by comparison.

I may well continue this new "project" of mine; reading books which were published before the social media era. It will, I think, sharpen my appreciation, and understanding of, recent social and cultural history. One observation which did make its claims on me was how confident and assured the world seemed in 1999/2000. Today's uncertainties and regressions only throw this assessment into sharper focus.

Berkmann's Pop Miscellany - Marcus Berkmann

As part of some festival which occurred in late December 2021, I received a gift in the form of this book, Berkmann's Pop Miscellany, by Marcus Berkmann.  It struck me at the time as the type of book which was a quintessential gift given at the time of the aforementioned festival. Consequently, I did not get around to reading it until recently.

The bulk of this tome is made up of "pen portraits", of varying lengths, of assorted luminaries from the world of music. These are broken up with other content, most of which relates to songs and albums which the author considers to be noteworthy in some way.

I found the author's quirky and impish humour to be endearing at first. In his views on music and musicians he does not seek to conform with trends and what is perceived to be cool. He makes it clear what kinds of music he is drawn to, and whilst I consider myself to have possibly the most eclectic musical tastes in the known universe, his arguments are bright and persuasive.

Although I did not agree with all of Berkmann's opinions, and did not concur with all of his reasoning, the anecdotes and stories were invariably entertaining and often very funny.  He is not trying to appear as a contrarian, but rather comes across as honest, unpretentious and sincere in his inclinations. This is actually quite refreshing when I think of much of the music-related literature which I have been exposed to down the years. 

The paragraphs contain lots of amusing tales of music-industry chaos, and in places these elaborated or expanded usefully on already well-known stories. All of this is delivered in a breezy and digestible style. 

If I was to venture one criticism it would be that, as the book progresses, it becomes a touch "formulaic", and relies too much on the same styles of jokes and humour. It even threatens to become slightly smug. Then again, I don't think this was intended to be a major work of scholarship, or to be taken too seriously.

In spite of the minor criticism outlined above, I found this to be quite an enjoyable book.

The Second World War - A Complete History - Martin Gilbert

 I recently finished reading Martin Gilbert's The Second World War - A Complete History. One volume chronicles of such a monumental subject cannot realistically hope to be comprehensive, or cover all the bases, but this particular work offers an absorbing and deeply impressive perspective on the conflict.

The 'format' I found surprisingly effective and workable. The war is documented in a chronological pattern, sometimes meaning that chapters alternately cover developments across the different theatres (Europe, Pacific etc.).  This could have rendered the story confusing and messy, but it turns out to be affecting and relatively efficient. Coverage of grand strategy and the pronouncements of leaders is mixed with quotations and anecdotes from 'on the ground' and from those whose were directly involved and personally impacted; eyewitnesses to horror and heroism.

There is a particular focus on the terror inflicted on Europe's Jews, as well as the activities of partisans and spies, and the effects of strategic bombing.  These emphases serve to convey the cruelty and futility of war, and the way in which it devastates the weak and the defenceless.

I found the text to be quite matter-of-fact, rather letting the facts and the quotations speak for themselves. The author does not dwell unduly on major military episodes or technological developments. I was also glad of the relatively short duration of the chapters, making the enterprise digestible and easy to follow.

Another feature which I found sensible was the tendency to continuously cite quotations from the same people and sources. This ensures consistency, enabling the reader to gauge and assess the changing moods and perspectives of those participants.

I was profoundly intrigued by the passages which dealt with the evolving relationship between the Western Allies and the Soviet Union. It seemed that in the earlier days there was a mixture of solidarity and mutual suspicion, with the Western powers sensitive to how their delays in opening a meaningful 'second front' would be received in Moscow. Of course towards the book's conclusion the thorny subject of the prospective post-war landscape looms larger and larger, especially the question of Poland.

As I moved deeper into this book, I gained the impression that it was not really an attempt to deliver an exhaustive, all-encompassing account of the war, but more a striving to give people a strong flavour of the true nature of that cataclysmic period in global history. In this sense Gilbert succeeded admirably. It does not just highlight the injustice and senselessness of war, but in addition it illustrates the political and social factors which promote armed conflict and what measures may be taken to reduce the likelihood of such catastrophes occurring.

Some people might complain that the book offers an 'establishment' Anglo-centric viewpoint, and even in places underestimates the role of the USSR in the war, but ultimately it is a powerful and gripping read, which will give any reasonable person ample food for thought and reflection.