Sebastian Coe - Coming Back - David Miller

Recently I have been going through a concerted phase of reading about the Olympic Games, and middle-distance running in particular.  This led me to delve deep into my "archives" to re-read the book "Sebastian Coe - Coming Back", by David Miller, published in 1984.

This is not a biography as such, but it documents that phase in Coe's career from the end of the 1981 season through to the aftermath of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. It examines the runner's recovery from two years of illness and injury to retain his Olympic 1500 metres title.

What makes this work doubly interesting is that it covers a period when the sport of track and field athletics itself was going through a time of transition, when commercialism was being allowed to rise to the surface, and when inevitable growing pains were being encountered. Indeed, there are several instances here where those commercial pressures seemed somewhat at odds with the long-term interests of certain British athletes.

Coe was dogged by misfortune and setbacks in 1982 and 1983, and his often turbulent relations with the British press are examined here, as he is written off, and parts of Fleet Street revert to their traditional practice of knocking sports stars when they are down. A hardening of Coe's attitude reached its culmination in his famous gestures to the press box after crossing the finishing line in the 1500 metres final in Los Angeles.

This focus on his dealings with the media is just a part of a wider look at the Coe psyche and temperament. He displayed a resilience and a resourcefulness which many were unaware he possessed, in overcoming adversity to regain past glories. By the time of the '84 Olympics, one becomes aware of a serenity, almost, mixed with a confident resolve to succeed.

Another interesting aspect of this book is its close look at the training methods employed by Coe and his father/coach Peter, and how these were modified to suit the special circumstances of 1984. It becomes apparent how consummately he had peaked for his second Olympics, although I am left wondering how much the problems of 1983 might have actually played a role, by dictating the time when the athlete could begin serious running again.

Reading a book published in 1984 allows one to be "wise after the event.".  The author, for example, assumes in his calculations about the post-1984 athletics landscape that the Soviet Union and East Germany would still exist by the centenary Olympics of 1996. Also, Coe's proposed move up to the 5000 metres event, much discussed within these pages, never really materialized.  Also, he did eventually capture that cherished major title over 800 metres (at the 1986 European Championships in Stuttgart).

An enjoyable and interesting read, this one.

The Works - Queen

In 1984, Queen released their album The Works, a record which warrants a little scrutiny.

At the time, this was regarded by many as a "comeback" record, after the band had gone on a mild hiatus, by the standards of the time. On the face of it, the album felt like a confident return to form and a more "classic" Queen sound, but it later transpired that this was a period of uncertainty, internal tensions and even a lack of self-belief.  The record is notable for containing more overt social and political commentary than Queen fans had become accustomed to.

The reviews which cited a restoration of the traditional Queen style were not totally accurate. There are modernistic touches, and not a wholesale return to the multi-tracked ethos which had last been evident on 1978's Jazz. The sound is often "big", in a more 1980s sense, and this anticipates what would happen on Queen's remaining studio albums.

In mentioning the big production, I would assert that the production, and the temptation to dabble with the shiny new technology then coming on stream, sometimes masks the quality and impact of a few of the songs, such as "Radio Ga Ga" and "I Want To Break Free".  The songs from The Works often sounded better in the concert environment. By the same token, I can appreciate how the band was looking to experiment, and not just rely on the old techniques, the old sounds and the old gimmicks.

Whilst the sound on this record was more contemporary, I don't think that Queen can be accused of trying to be "trendy".  Yes, they were embracing new technology, but they were harnessing it to do their own thing, rather than attempting to appear "relevant" or hip.

The themes explored in the songs include nostalgia for a simpler, more innocent time ("Radio Ga Ga"), the dehumanizing effects of technology and machinery ("Machines") nuclear war ("Hammer To Fall") and Third World famine ("Is This The World We Created").  This subject matter was hardly original for the 1980s rock scene, but I don't think that it was a consciously orchestrated thing. It is not surprising that "baby boomers" would wish to express anxieties concerning such matters.

Although some of the songs address areas of concern, others have words which are more anodyne, not really saying anything of note.  "It's A Hard Life", "Tear It Up", and "Man On The Prowl" lack any real incisiveness. They do not possess the fire which would return to the band's work in the late 1980s.

The Works has a sound which is bright, clear and vibrant, and not quite descending to the characteristically irritating level which mars so much 80s pop/rock. Much of the recording was done in 1983, and the malaise of 80s music had at that stage not yet fully taken hold. On this record Freddie Mercury is in pretty good voice, and the deterioration in his vocals which surfaced on A Kind Of Magic is scarcely discernible.

This record exudes a self-confidence which may have been illusory, belying the atmosphere and mindset which prevailed in the Queen camp. On the surface, ideas seem to be flowing in relative abundance. Little in the way of introspection or self-doubt can be detected in the lyrics.  They are looking outwards, not inwards. Those looking for "clues" will find few. The fact that all four band members, with disparate personalities and temperaments, wrote songs on their own meant that it was rarely easy to detect a general mood (until the final two albums) - a contrast to the career paths of singer-songwriters, or bands with one dominant composer.

"Keep Passing The Open Windows" is an interesting song, musically sharp and ebullient and with a strong message. It has recently occurred to me that there is a Elton John-like feel to the piece.  Some Queen hallmarks are in there, but the tune is energetic and animated.

The album version of "I Want To Break Free" is much better than that released as a single, as the keyboards are less prominent and guitar more to the fore.

"Man On The Prowl" is for me one of the weaker Queen album tracks, and probably owes its inclusion in the running order to the fact that it is anonymously catchy as a genre exercise,  and that it is different to the more futuristic and profound material which surrounds it. Other, superior, songs may have been in circulation at the time, but were probably too similar to others which made the cut.

One song which did not make the original album, appearing as a B-side, was "I Go Crazy", a spontaneous and infectious number which sees Queen in "garage band" mode, singing some amusing lyrics. It is a mystery why room was not found for it.  Perhaps it lacked a certain polish.....

The Works is enigmatic, taking Queen in new directions whilst holding on to trademark elements. It still holds up pretty well, certainly in the the context of the group's offerings from their "later period".

This Is Spinal Tap

When I am asked to compile a list of my favourite films of all time, This Is Spinal Tap always threatens to penetrate the higher reaches. It is not necessarily the "best" or the most profound, but it is right up there in terms of entertainment value and enjoyability.

Basically, This Is Spinal Tap, released in 1984, is presented as a documentary, or "rockumentary", following the fortunes of British heavy rock outfit Spinal Tap as they tour North America to promote their latest album. Numerous disasters and setbacks ensue, and these episodes form the basis for much of the comedy, and no little pathos.

I cannot really make up my mind why the picture is made in the style which it is.  Some of the "sloppiness" may be intentional, while some may even be a product of budget constraints.  Either way, many segments have a very gritty, "fly on the wall" character, either consciously or unconsciously drawing inspiration from some of the music documentaries of the past (D.A. Pennebaker's work springs to mind).  I also like the way that dialogue is delivered by the actors in an "untidy", ad-libbed manner. This adds realism, as does the editing.

The "amateurish" style is one of the factors which helps this picture to endure, whereas other similar efforts fall short by being excessively glossy or calculating. In addition to a certain innocence, a lot of elements in "Spinal Tap" conspired to engender a peculiar magic, the kind which defies straightforward explanation. Much has been made about the the cliches which the movie celebrates, but people forget that many of these cliches were popularized by the film itself.

A facet of This Is Spinal Tap which receives insufficient attention is the nature of the settings. Almost every scene is situated in a hotel room, concert venue, dressing room, airport or vehicle. This serves to illustrate the confined, claustrophobic and unreal world inhabited by rock musicians.

The acting by the main players has a naturalness which is a delight. The deadpan delivery is a key, especially at the funniest junctures. The more minor roles add much sparkle. Fran Drescher as Bobbi Flekman, and Paul Shaffer as Artie Fufkin really stand out. These characters are not stereotypes as such, but may be exaggerated conceptions of people who might have been around at the time.

Whilst according the cinematography and the acting due credit, it is the writing and the humour which really transports the film onto another level. Many lines and phrases have entered into the lexicon of popular culture, which is a tribute in itself. Moreover, many of the jokes and sketches are still fresh. I have viewed the film untold times, but still find myself laughing out loud.

The narrative manages to elicit sympathy, too, as Spinal Tap stumble from one misfortune to another. It is a little while before grim reality registers, and the downward spiral in the band's fortunes arrives almost imperceptibly. Gallows humour is mixed with humiliation, and desperate efforts to remedy the predicament (such as the "Stonehenge" sequence).

When I first saw this movie, many years ago, I recall being startled by the quality of the music. The songs, however, do not really stand up to the stresses of repeated listening and scrutiny, even if the lyrics remain hilarious, shedding none of their lustre.

Yes, the film satirizes the Neanderthal attitudes and pretentiousness of some rock musicians, but it also becomes a celebration of the absurdity and the energy of the genre. The running jokes about "drummers" and "the album cover" help to imbue the piece with some structure and continuity.

Viewers can probably discern references to certain real-life groups and artists, but a notable thing is that Spinal Tap can not be directly pigeon-holed and directly compared to such-and-such a band. There is a vaguely "Lennon and McCartney" dynamic in the relationship between David St. Hubbins and Nigel Tufnel, but only vaguely. Half the fun is looking out for allusions, but the writing is sufficiently subtle to leave one guessing.

An endearing feature of the movie is the amount which is left unsaid or unexplained. There is plenty going on in various scenes, involving extras and so forth, and enigmatic lines are left hanging in the air.

Of the characters, Nigel Tufnel's persona is perhaps the most forcefully projected, his uncomplicated and naive dimness shining throughout. The others are maybe less easy to pin down. Tony Hendra, as the group's manager, gets some of the most interesting and substantial lines, although the character himself feels more like a 60s/70s managerial type.

It feels like the funny lines are packed in to the picture, even "under" the closing titles, which is a testimony to the amount of strong material which the writers had. This Is Spinal Tap remains fine entertainment, and retains its unique charm after all these years. Modern audiences might be nonplussed by the absence of slickness, but the accent is on creativity and content, and not the "packaging".

A wonderful film.