Wednesday 29 August 2012

The 80’s Eternal Flame shines once again

Think of the 1980’s and if you’re anything like me, you’ll think of yuppies in box suits speaking into bricks, cocaine-fuelled laser dance floors, shoulder pads, massive hoop earrings, perms and the popular emergence of synth music. Think of the Noughties and the Teens/Tens/Tweens, and you’ll think of technological advancement, cynicism, skinny jeans, difficulty in finding suitable names for the current decade and easy access to a proliferated music market.

As a twenty-seven year-old, my direct experience of 80’s music mainly involved the Thundercats theme song, and hence my reflection upon the decade relies mainly on caricatured images garnered through music and films. In my mind, people spent the entire decade driving around in seemingly mis-matched partnerships, only to discover that they really weren’t so different after all thanks to a story arc involving snappy banter and exploding vehicles, all to the sound of synth pop and power ballads. Admittedly, in reality this may only partially account for the decade, particularly given that one thing shared by the 80’s and the Noughties was a global recession, but cherry picking from the past wearing rose-tinted glasses is the prerogative of the partially informed current-day writer, so I’m going ahead regardless.

Like any decade, the 80’s saw a transition in popular music as new sounds like electro, techno, house, synth pop, New Wave, New Romantics, glam metal, soft rock and hip-hop allowed artists to remain shoe-horned into arbitrarily distinct musical categories forevermore. It was the technological advance in synthesisers, though, that really changed the game. Quirky visionaries like Kraftwerk and Brian Eno had already shown the potential of electronic music, but it was only when MIDI came online in 1983 that it all became easier, with less need to engage in time-consuming practices like mechanically innovating sound effects and learning the piano properly.
               
Ambience: Never has a single note done so much

One thing synth music boasted like never before was an ability to create ambience, with all the possibilities afforded by multi-layered tracks and easily manipulating sounds. Whether used for pure ‘soundscape’ (the pretentious name for five minutes of swishing sounds) or as accompaniment in pop tracks (e.g. Prince’s Little Red Corvette, below), ‘ambience’ finally became a term used for emotionally evocative music rather than just the type of mood lighting at a cocktail party.

The 90’s took something of a break from ambience, as anything remotely resembling the previous decade was hidden in the closet above all the totally-not-ridiculous baggy 90’s clothing. Gradually, though, as is always the case, aspects of the decade’s style re-emerged in popular culture. This started to take effect most prominently in the past few years in mainstream pop, as singers and acts like La Roux, Ellie Goulding, Bat For Lashes and The Naked and the Famous (below) infused their tracks with 80’s-style synth, leading the boom in shoulder padded jacket sales in charity shops. The trend had already been established in electro music, with a host of French and German producers like Digitalism and Moderat in particular filling dance floors with atmospheric 80’s-inspired dance tracks.
              
 One area where creating a mood through synth music is particularly appropriate is in films, and it’s noticeable that 80’s-style soundtracks are making something of a come-back. A good example is the Ryan Gosling blood-fest Drive, where he silently but strongly pouted his way through an hour and a half of newly crafted very-definitely-80’s electro music (below). It reminded me of 1982’s Blade Runner, where an equally strong but silent, pouty Harrison Ford patrolled the streets to the sound of Vangelis’ genius soundtrack (below). 


Girls (and boys) just want to have fun: Shoulder-pumping beats

I can only imagine what it must have been like to be driving my Corvette, white jacket sleeves rolled up to my elbows, hearing the pulsating beat of New Order’s Blue Monday (see below) kick in for the first time. Presumably my aviators would have fallen off; such would have been the jerkiness of my involuntary shoulder movement.

Along with power ballads, the synth pop genre perhaps most simply defines the sound of the 80’s for those of us who became acquainted with the era primarily reverb-laden 80’s snare sound, and even ‘alternative’ bands like
The Cure used the effect to good, ahem, effect (although Robert Smith would probably kill me- or at least sulk under a tree about it- if he were to hear me calling his music ‘pop’).
               
Accordingly, the past decade has seen the re-introduction of the shoulder pumping beat in its own contemporary style, though the meat of the sound remains decidedly 80’s. Vitalic, the French electro producer, is a good example of the modern adaptation of the 80’s electronic drum sound (below), and the same can be said of acts like LCD Soundsystem and Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs. Even the more dirgy current genres of electronic music like Dub Step have extracted aspects of the 80’s production quality to add feeling, as in Skream’s remix of La Roux’s In For the Kill (below). Luckily, living in the era we do, listening to current stuff opens the door wide open to its 80’s musical heritage, leaving people like me to excitedly explore the rabbit-hole of online musical discovery.

     

Total Eclipse of the Power Ballad

So, as I celebrate the re-appearance of certain elements of 80’s music, it’s with a heavy Chicago-style heart that I also mourn the death of the power ballad. With the discovery of irony in the early 2000’s, the innocence that allowed the inception of the fist-clenching gut wrenchers produced by the likes of Bon Jovi and Bonny Tyler has been killed, perhaps forever. Even the cock-rockers of the day who spent most of the decade singing about sexually assaulting women produced some absolute power ballad classics, like Aerosmith’s Cryin’ and Kiss’ I Still Love You.
               
Nowadays the closest thing we have is douche-bag soft rock espoused by sensitive souls like John Mayer, James Blunt and James Morrison, who unfortunately as teenagers never had their guitars ripped away from them as they hogged attention at house parties. The indications are, at least, that these guys will soon join Bryan Adams and Celine Dion in the halls of commercial naffness.
                
In the spirit of reminiscence of the 80’s (without having been there), I’ll leave you with the ultimate 80’s sign-off, reminding us not to forget about the power of the music from a decade where, devoid of self-consciousness, epic melodies and moody synthesisers were valued above all else.

 





Thursday 23 August 2012

The Four Year Plan: 'Become an Olympian'. What do you mean it's harder than it looks?


A conversation with a friend the other evening left me with a lingering thought, not of the romantic kind but rather the kind that offers an intriguing challenge. The motion was this: within four years, someone like he or I could become an Olympian if we really set ourselves to the challenge. Now, I'm quite a sporty guy, but having never played any sport to anything resembling an elite level, I was highly dubious. It is possible, he thought, and perhaps he was right? As well as being sporty though, I'm also kind of lazy. If there was an Olympic sport for laziness etc etc... 

We discussed the kind of Olympic sports that might better suit someone looking for an easy ride as possible to becoming an international standard athlete, from a standing start at the age of twenty-seven...

Running: I fancy myself as a half-decent runner. I've recently been doing some pretty intensive training for a 10K run... on the days when I've felt like it, cos, you know, I'm not a machine. Oh, and obviously sometimes it rains, and I'm not a huge fan of getting wet. Also, I've noticed I get very thirsty when running, and don't like carrying a bottle of water with me because it's too heavy, obviously. Aside from these imposed constraints, which I presume beset all aspiring Olympic distance runners, I think it's doable. Mo Farah barely looked out of breath as he won the 5,000m so it really can't be that difficult. 
OK, so perhaps you've noticed I'm playing the part of the deluded fantasist, and in truth my barely-serious three weeks of training- which has extended to buying a pedometer and eating slightly fewer biscuits late at night- has reminded me in no uncertain terms that running 5k in basically half the time achieved by the average club runner would involve a constant gruelling pain that would require genuine masochism to endure/enjoy. While I do like the feel of a slight scratch, I'm not quite at the clamp and battery level necessary. I'll leave it then, and move on to another idea.

Shooting or Archery: My friend and I reasoned that perhaps a more sedentary sport would provide a more realistic opportunity to become proficient enough to take on the world's best. Also, the world record hold in Archery is held by a legally blind South Korean (not to suggest that he would otherwise be illegally blind), who's technique involves aiming at the centre of a blurry yellow blob. However, having never fired live ammunition or shot an arrow that I hadn't fashioned from loose twigs as a child, developing the muscle memory and concentration seems like very hard work. Plus, if the book and film We need to talk about Kevin taught me anything, it's not to hang around with archers. 


Boxing: Super-massive-heavyweight London 2012 winner Joshua Anthony is living proof that four years is all it takes. The story goes that four years ago he joined his local boxing gym in Finchley to make new friends after moving to the area, and ended up killing them all with a single punch... or something similar. I actually started boxing last year, and really enjoyed it. The technique involved suits my physical attributes quite well and it's certainly satisfying releasing all your rage on a defenceless purpose-built inanimate object (but enough about my friend Rich- zinger!) So boxing really seemed for me. That was, until some bastard punched me in the head while sparring, which really hurt. Obviously I tried to press charges but for some reason the police were totally uninterested. Let's move on...


Coxing: As I sought the next sport to consider, repeating 'boxing' over in my head soon revealed a surprise package: I could sit still, shouting at people substantially larger than me and win a medal if my directions proved accurate. And that's the beauty of it; the directions are really easy. As far as I can tell, it's pretty much 'Keep going straight', 'Yep, keep going', 'That's it, keep going forward, you're doing well' all the way to the finish line. There may be some small print extra details that involve in-depth knowledge of rowing technique or whatever, but I'm sure I'd pick it up... Unfortunately though, I've just remembered I'm 6'1" so my legs would be sticking out the sides dragging along the water like a basketball player on a BMX. Oh well...

An Anaesthetist preps the athlete
Skeleton: I then remembered that there's a whole other season of Olympics, and that Amy Williams, a Brit from my home town of Bath no less, had won gold hurtling herself head-first down a bob sleigh track, or 'icey death tunnel'. While it seems slightly terrifying, presumably they tranquillise you before throwing you on your way. It would just be like sliding down a water park flume, except that the water has all frozen and there's every chance you'll die if you fall off your skeleton, or 'face-first suicide tray'. Next. 

Volleyball: Ultimately, I decided that my greatest chance of going to Rio in 2016 as an Olympic athlete would be as a volleyball player. Beach volleyball would be my preference, but it appears there is little opportunity for social loafing (i.e. not having to do much) as there's only two of you per team. From what I remember from Top Gun, training for beach volleyball also includes intensive fighter jet training involving a compelling yet highly homo-erotic competition with Val Kilmer. Val Kilmer. I wouldn't last a week. 
Having watched an indoor volleyball game at Earls Court, while I in no way doubt the high level of skill possessed by the players, some of them seem basically just to hop up and down at the net, alternating between smashing the ball at the opposition's face and blocking said smashes. I'm a goalkeeper by trade (not literally- I lose money playing football) so getting in the way of the ball is my forte, as is punching the ball at the apex of its flight. Sign me up!.. What do you mean it's not that easy?








Friday 17 August 2012

Premier League football, I love you, I hate you, I love you

With the Premier League returning to action tomorrow, I can't figure out whether my lack of usual excitement is borne from the embers of a heady summer affair with the Olympics, a growing disaffection towards the game's bad attitude, or paranoid belief that the league I have loved for so long is sleeping with John Terry.

I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling more ambivalent about the new season than usual, but once it's up and running it will no doubt occupy the hollow space in my brain reserved for inane football information as always.

With this is mind, here are some predicted headlines for us all to look forward to:


QPR send Joey Barton to Marseille on loan to be mentored by a more experienced group of self-entitled, pretentious footballers. He reads a paragraph about the French Revolution and writes a book in nonsensical French about the nature of revolution using Google Translate. 



 Mike Ashley finally renames his team Sports Direct FC, brands all squad members' faces, mansions and children with the logo and uses his 10 per cent share of Rangers to convert Ibrox into a distribution centre. Star striker Papiss Cisse is accidentally sold to Grimsby Town after a poorly trained shop assistant mistakenly marks the player '70% off'. The team also receive a free oversized mug (or 'Mike Ashley') but as it doesn't fit through the letter box they have to pick the striker up from the nearest collection office. 


Wilshere pre-leg-re-snap


Arsene Wenger announces that Jack Wilshere will return for Arsenal in October, followed by December, followed by February, followed by 'this academic year', before admitting that the injury is maybe a little worse than originally anticipated two years ago. 




Owen Hargreaves posts a Youtube video in an attempt to prove he's in better shape than new City recruit Jack Rodwell. Highlights include Hargreaves introducing a short-lived wobbly handstand with 'I bet Jack Rodwell can't do this!'

Alan Shearer literally runs out of things to say on Match of the Day, but escapes embarrassment as Lee Dixon struggles to finish a sentence he started an hour previously.

Tenuous link: a cat named Thor 


After growing jealous at the attention gained by the new Brazilian star striker Hulk, the other Chelsea forwards change their names, resulting in a strike force of Hulk, Thor, Captain America and Daredevil. Thor formerly known as Torres takes it too far by wearing a cape in training.




Gary Neville causes outrage after vocally climaxing in his trousers during a United goal resulting from sublime combination play from Rooney and Van Persie.

AVB and Daniel Levy dedicate all their energy to successfully retaining Luka Modric despite his outspoken wish to leave for Real Madrid. AVB then rests Modric for every meaningful game to assert his authority, while also revealing a new 'Blue Steel'-esque pose for the season.

Bale lies wounded as Adams remonstrates
 against his booking out of shot

Charlie Adams stabs Gareth Bale, only receiving a booking.

Inactivity from top flight management causes Harry Redknapp's face to finally fall off.