The Fair

 It is curious how certain things  have the capacity to transport us on to another plane of thought entirely. Just recently, I was happily listening to some folk music, more particularly traditional British folk music. Many songs and song lyrics in that field contain references to fairs, as in a travelling fair or carnival.  These references rekindled memories and fond recollections of a near-forgotten slice of my childhood.

When I was growing up a patch of land near to our home played host, several times a year, to a travelling fair, or a "feast" as the locals tended to describe it. From an early age, as soon as I became properly conscious of this curious phenomenon on my doorstep, I was fascinated by the spectacle and many of the ideas behind it. Only now can I begin to truly rationalize the appeal of the fair, and the interest and excitement which it offered to me in those times.

In my early years, it is now apparent, I was somewhat dreamy and somehow detached from my peers, never completely feeling to be an integral part of the world, or indeed the community. Solitude was my almost default, mode, not necessarily by choice, but because so much made me uncomfortable. For someone who felt like an outsider, even if I was not able to articulate those sentiments, a "sub-culture" such as the fun fair held a certain allure, attraction and mystique. 

I would spend hours watching and observing the goings-on at the fair from our window, occasionally making my way on foot to the site, seeing at close quarters the work of the "feast-men", as I generally referred to them, as they assembled the rides and went about their regular, accustomed tasks. 

So what specifically made me so interested? Apart from a vague sense of the "differentness" of that way of life, there were other factors, although at that stage I was incapable of making sense of them or voicing my "reasoning".

There was a tendency among some of the local people to look down on the travelling people, the sort of thing which is frequently seen when "outsiders" visit a slightly insular place. The locality concerned was much less cosmopolitan and diverse, less enlightened, than it would later become.

Looking back, I can say that maybe without realizing it at the time, I admired their independence, their resourcefulness and their resilience. They exuded a certain dignity; one could use the word "proud", in its positive, non-pejorative meaning. Their bearing can be seen against the increasing regimentation and regulation which was prevalent in society.

Occasionally I harboured a tentative desire to "run away" and join the fair, in the same way that some individuals wanted to run away and join a circus. 

From a distance of several decades, I can lament that I failed to take practical inspiration from the "feast people", by cultivating some of those laudable traits. Equally I can accept and understand that my view of them was romanticized and simplistic. They had probably envied people like me, and they almost certainly had to wrestle with the same difficulties and concerns as everyone else, the same dilemmas and anxieties which are part of the human condition. 

I think, in addition, that the fair, and its characteristics, offered me something that was "my own", an interest which I could call my own, and take refuge and solace in, even feeling that I had a modicum of control over it, None of my relatives or friends even remotely shared my enthusiasm for my near-obsession. I therefore did not feel the burden of having to "compete" with other people in this little ahadowy corner. 

Once put together, the "feast" itself was in fact a feast for the senses. I can still vividly recall the sounds, the sights and the aromas. The music, the toffee apples and the candy-floss. When combined, they constituted something invigorating but comforting, and the picture was that of people coming together for a common purpose; to enjoy themselves and to forget, if only for a short while, the daily grind of grim commercial struggle and toil. This was working-class culture of the kind which encouraged social cohesion and inclusion, hopefully warding off alienation and desperation.

There was something of hope, optimism and reassurance represented by the fair, as something that would apparently always be there as a source of welcome and stability.

As these things invariably turn out, my interest and inquisitiveness regarding the fair were sustained until round about the onset of my teenaged years, before other preoccupations assumed precedence.

I rather lost track of what was happening, and before I knew it the fondly-remembered fair was no more, and the land where the festivities had been situated was eventually given over to the construction of new houses.

When the change occurred it seemed somehow emblematic of shifts both within my own life and in the shape and spirit of the wider world. My own life was becoming more and more about responsibilities, less carefree , more concerned with hard-nosed decisions and "pragmatism". 

I look back now on the demise of the fair, rightly or wrongly, as symbolic of the devouring of "common" resources for private gain. So in place of the frivolity and shared contentment of "the feast" we have a dreary residential estate, where people can isolate themselves, watch property values rise, and become gradually divorced from community and reason. No doubt they also become safely "insulated" from worries about social exclusion and inequality.

I am under few illusions about the imperatives which drove the end of the fair and the arrival of the two and three bedroomed boxes, but I wish that there was still more room for things like that which brighten the imagination and people's horizons. Maybe I just don't understand the true meaning of the expression "human needs". Somewhere the balance appears to have been lost, it sometimes seems to me.

The end of the fair's existence was a case of "innocence lost", both in the course of a human life and in terms of a general departure in the ways of the world. Do youngsters have a "Fair", or its equivalent , nowadays? I really do hope so.

Eddie The Eagle (2015 film)

 A film which I had intended to see upon its release, but which somehow slipped away from my attention, was 'Eddie The Eagle', a biopic which tells the story of the British ski-jumper Eddie 'The Eagle' Edwards.

To summarize, Edwards achieved international prominence and attention in 1988 through his appearance at the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary. His struggle to achieve his dream, and his determination to compete captured the public imagination for a short while.

I remember the 'Eddie The Eagle' phenomenon very well, as I was a very avid follower of all sports at the time, that is 1988. I'm not sure whether this was a particularly instructive example of the amateur ideal, because even in the 1980s there were 'elite', successful athletes in the Olympics who were still, to a lesser or greater degree, 'amateur'. No, I think that the draw of the 'Eddie the Eagle' story was that he was an 'everyman' figure, someone who the blue-collar audience could relate to and identify with, having his moment of fame, and making the most of it, not always acting in the way which was expected.

Anyway, I recently got around to watching the 'Eddie The Eagle' movie at last. One of the first things which was noticeable to me was that the production values were of a quite high order. Visually it is a pleasing work, and the CGI and other effects tend to complement the story rather than acting as a distraction. 

Importantly, the makers did not try too hard to make everything look 'very' 1970s or 1980s, and so evaded a failing which weighs down quite a few biopics of this type. The scene is set, and some context introduced, early on with some 'flashback' sequences illustrating the younger Eddie's Olympic aspirations and his efforts to overcome adversity. 

Taron Egerton gives an endearing and plausible performance as Eddie, capturing some of the loveable naivete and the persistence of the character, as well as instilling some nice comedic touches throughout. The scenes set in the Edwards family home familiarize us with idea that they are honest, down-to-earth people, without romanticizing this unnecessarily.

One of the keys to the narrative for me was that Eddie was resolutely serious about his ski-jumping endeavours, whilst all around him people were laughing and expressing disdain. By the standards of many biopics the script was crisp, and even if the dialogue was (very) occasionally corny, some of it was sharp and impactful.

There is the obligatory 'training montage', although this one is quite amusing, and in another parallel with the 'Rocky' films, a central mentor-pupil theme. In this case the mentor/coach is played by Hugh Jackman. The Bronson Peary character is fictional, incidentally, but hey this is a frequent occurrence in biopics....

One false note for me was struck by the characterisations of the British Olympic officials and some of the British competitors at the '88 Winter games. For me this was a slightly clumsy attempt to present the story as one of Eddie against The World, or at least Eddie versus The Establishment. An over-simplification, in all probability, but such over-simplifications are often deemed necessary by film-makers or their overlords in order to create 'tension' and 'conflict'.

Of the supporting cast, I thought that Keith Allen was very likeable as Eddie's father, expressing concern that the young man is neglecting his "normal" career, but ultimately being proud of Eddie's achievements. Jim Broadbent pops up as a TV commentator.

The heart of the film for me was the period which Eddie spent training and learning his craft in Germany. Here we see how Eddie's unaffectedness and uncomplicated tenacity endear him to some people, but also how he is ridiculed and patronised by some of the top-drawer competitors in his chosen sport.  The Petra character quickly takes up Eddie's cause, although his 'coach' Peary takes some work before fully becoming a convert. Petra and Bronson are, you might say, stock characters, but they are vital in facilitating the forward propulsion and development of the story.

I would say that the decision to base so much of the screen time at the German location was an astute one, as it lent some continuity and stability to the narrative, and there is the bonus of some very pleasant scenery.

The scenes set at the Winter Olympics at Calgary are a touch flimsy, but this is common with movies falling under this category. There is some cursory exploration of the notion that other athletes thought that Eddie was receiving too much adulation and attention, but very little about the fears that he was falling prey to people interested in 'using' him for commercial purposes; I distinctly remember the latter being a centrepiece of the media coverage about Eddie in 1988.

I think that the film, intentionally or otherwise, evoked the slightly surreal nature of the Eddie Edwards episode which I recollect from 1988, a story which arguably cannot be repeated today. 

Overall, I enjoyed it, and it had more substance and heart-warming appeal than I had expected. It got across the idea that 'ordinary' people might not be able to achieve success measured in terms of gold medals or their equivalent but simply striving to be involved and included can invigorate and ennoble them, and act as an example to others, but the idea was communicated here without being preachy or heavy-handed.

The Top 100 Cricketers of All Time - Christopher Martin-Jenkins

 Another tome which had been on my bookshelves for years, receiving regrettably little of my attention, was 'The Top 100 Cricketers of All Time', written by the late Christopher Martin-Jenkins.

I was long an admirer of "CMJ", from enjoying his commentaries on radio and television, to reading his writings in book and newspaper form. His writing has a richness and a jauntiness, and his love for the game shines through in the book "The Top 100 Cricketers of All Time."

It should be stressed that this selection is purely of male players - a similar volume today would certainly incorporate female cricketers. In putting together this list of cricket's greatest, and as a genuine "concerner" for the game's welfare and integrity, I think that CMJ gave precedence to some players based on their overall influence on the game and its development, as well as the entertainment factor and the adherence to the spirit of the sport. Their statistical legacy in the record books was only a part of the considerations, it seems.

As we grow older, I think that sports fans tend to bother less about statistics and records, and concentrate more about the human aspects. This is the case with myself;so what if such and such a player's batting average was mediocre - that often tells only a fraction of the whole story. Artistry and memories also count for a lot. In my youth I often got into curious complexes, feeling bemused and even puzzled by the praise heaped on players whose career stats were decidedly modest. I am over that stage now!

There is a nice choice of photographs, usually conveying the individualism or personality of the subject(s). Old cricket photographs often have a genuine intimacy and charm.

Even though this work was composed in the twenty-first century, its general style and tenor, to an extent, bear some of the hallmarks of the time before cricket moved on to another plateau, commercially speaking. 

Martin-Jenkins regularly draws attention to the technical nuances of the game, highlighting each cricketer's strengths (and weaknesses). He also illustrates their more "subjective" capacities such as stamina and levels of concentration.

Above all, what came across for me when reading this book is the game's richness, diversity and complexity during its greatest periods. These things are perhaps not as immediately noticeable nowadays, in addition to that general air of "mystery".

The author goes to some trouble to obtain information and anecdotes which help to explain how players turned out the way they did. This includes details of their origins, coaching and experiences. 

It was good to see the inclusion of several relatively "obscure" people in this list. The importance and weight of players from India and Pakistan is also evidence of the writer's breadth of understanding, as is the due recognition to the contribution made to the game by Sri Lankans in recent decades. The vibrancy bestowed on the gam by all of its practitioners around the globe is given is duly noted.

CMJ's keen and discerning eye is apparent throughout in his facility for observing and capturing foibles and traits, those often intangible things which separated them from their peers or their predecessors, and which partly determined their spot in any "pecking order". An example of this is the article on Shaun Pollock, and his relative lack of explosiveness as an all-rounder. Of course, it is a matter of taste as to whether we should count this as a weakness, but admirable that the author could identify it as a factor, and analyse it in such acute terms. This sharpness of analysis, combined with a love of, and fluency in, the use of language, makes for a joyful recipe.

It might seem invidious to compare nineteenth century legends with modern limited-overs specialists, but Martin-Jenkins transcends this problem in part by linking together disparate generations in appreciation of the human and universal elements which explain and nurture success and greatness

There is also an engaging "looseness" about the format of the mini-biographies. They are not put together in chronological order, but done in such a manner which betrays a pleasing absence of rigidity.

In amongst the passages celebrating the brilliance of these people the author does not gloss over the less agreeable aspects of top-level cricket, such as intimidatory bowling, slow over-rates and so forth. 

All in all, a fine and admirable book.

The True Adventures of The Rolling Stones - Stanley Booth

 I recently finished reading Stanley Booth's book "The True Adventures Of The Rolling Stones". I had been aware of this tome for some time, and had the opportunity to experience it after being given a copy by a relative.

The book was first published in the mid-1980s, although the settings and the actual subject matter rarely go beyond the early Seventies. The chapters alternate between the author's recollections of the Stones' 1969 American tour and more general "biographical" material and interviews. We also gain some insight into Booth's own travails and struggles in getting his project off the ground.

There is a fly-on-the-wall flavour to the chronicle of the 1969 tour, and this helps to create a warts-and-all idea of the chaos which apparently prevailed within the Stones' organisation around that time. The numerous colourful tales and anecdotes are given a higher sharpness because of the author's poetic and idiosyncratic writing style.

The "counter-cultural" outpourings of all concerned seem hopelessly dated to 21st century sensibilities, but this does ensure that the work serves as a rich time-capsule. This was what 1969 was like for the in-crowd, if not necessarily for ordinary people. I would like to think that the participants in the drama of the tour have grown up and learned something from how the sojourn ended.

Not surprisingly, Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman come across as the most grounded and likeable of the Stones, with the then new boy Mick Taylor barely visible for the most part. 

The biographical-historical sections of "The True Adventures....." contain some interesting points and revelations, especially concerning the role and attitudes of Brian Jones. These observations are given added weight because they arise from quotes by members of the Stones circle (Wyman, Keith, Ian Stewart etc.). My interpretation is that Brian became estranged and "difficult", in a meaningful way, at quite an early stage. 

For me it is difficult to escape the suspicion that Jagger and Richards, even in the late 1960s, were playing up to a role and an identity which was expected of them, although Mick in those days appears to have been rather difficult to pin down or appraise. Wyman and Watts often had more interesting and insightful (and honest) things to say about their lives and the band's status and progress. Bill and Charlie appear to have had a detached relationship to the rest of the group, and to have enjoyed a measure of autonomy.

Booth's accounts of life in Los Angeles just prior to the '69 tour are entertaining and quite evocative. The comings-and-goings of the various participants, hangers-on, journalists, roadies and so forth are depicted in a highly absorbing manner. It is striking just how haphazard, even amateurish, concert tours still were at that point in history. The ultra-professional, buttoned-down methods which we know today were still quite a distant prospect.

Mick Taylor, as ever, emerges as an enigmatic figure, and as alluded to previously, gets comparatively little attention, even as the highly talented new addition to the line-up. Looking back, it should not really surprise us that he rarely looked as though he "belonged". I think he came out of it with honour and dignity. I don't blame him if he felt uncomfortable, and even embarrassed, by some of the things going on around him. His legacy remains in the elegant and tasteful contributions which helped to elevate the Stones' recordings, especially in the early 1970s.

Despite some early misgivings, I increasingly warmed to this book and its atmosphere and tone, coming to realize that the author was not as opinionated or as naive as I had first assumed. Booth seems as disorientated and confused as anyone else close to the Stones at that time. Ultimately I feel that his perspective is one of realism, resignation even.

Towards the close of the work there is a vivid and quite chilling account of the disastrous free concert at Altamont. The writer wisely refrained from indulging in any prolonged agonizing or philosophizing about the debacle; the description spoke for itself.

The over-riding achievement of this book is in capturing what the Rolling Stones were all about at the time when they were at their most visceral, "dangerous" and relevant. It is a very worthwhile read.

When The Levee Breaks - The Making of Led Zeppelin IV - Andy Fyfe

 I received this book as a Christmas present, and I made short work of reading it.  Ostensibly it is a volume which examines Led Zeppelin's famous fourth album from the year 1971, but it also serves quite capably as a mini-biography of the group. It was first published in 2003.

I must confess that I was not totally convinced by the author's assertions about the album's place in the grand scheme of things (personally I prefer "Physical Graffiti" and the debut album), but he does make some effort to get to the heart of the record's mystique, and he argues quite persuasively and forcefully that its focus and its cohesive qualities set it apart from the Zeppelin works which came before and after it.

As I worked my way through "When The Levee Breaks,,," some of my misgivings disappeared and I began to warm to the writer's style and his approach. His musical knowledge is impressive and quite extensive, and he approaches this subject from a different angle to most other Zeppelin-orientated observers, which gives his analysis a refreshing tone.

There is some illuminating material concerning the album's famous artwork, and although this might appear as "tangential", it helps to shape a well-rounded portrayal of the band, its mentality and its character.

We are given some insight into the group's methods and working habits, how they went about the creative process. In addition, I liked the entertaining and well-rendered biographical passages about the individual members and the early days of Led Zeppelin. Very occasionally the prose lapses into the reductive and the simplistic, but by and large the author's reasoning and arguments are nuanced and sharp.

A track-by-track "commentary" also strengthens the authoritativeness of the tome. Again Fyfe illustrates and embellishes his points with imaginative allusions and sub-texts about the merits and the intricacies of the songs.

The idea which he eventually succeeded in getting across to me was that "IV" is more focused and fully-realized, and was the stage at which their sound and their grasp of their musical influences crystallized and was in harmony. He contrasts this with the more disparate nature of some of their earlier offerings. It is true that "Physical Graffiti" contains some "old" material, making it feel slightly less unified.

For me, the discussion of the stories behind the songs, the inspiration for the compositions and the arrangements, and the themes explored, helped to flesh out and deepen my understanding of what made Zeppelin tick.

This book also chronicles and appraises the shifting relationships and balances of power within the band unit, as Jones, Plant and Bonham, in their different ways, exerted greater control and contributions in the song-writing, the arrangements and the overall sound and direction.

Ironically, given the book's titular remit, the sections of the book which I enjoyed the most were those which address the periods which followed the release of the fourth album, and the years subsequent to their disbandment in 1980.  A word of praise too for how Fyfe links the group's influence and legacy to more "modern" artists and musical sub-cultures. This was a nice, fresh perspective as far as I was concerned, although the comparisons with those later groups only serve to underline Zeppelin's own greatness and quality.

Relatively small criticisms would be that the author sometimes repeats himself in labouring points or theories, and I didn't always concur with his attempts at social commentary, but overall I consider this to be a laudable and enjoyable book, which is recommended reading both for Zeppelin devotees and general rock fans.