Why 6 Music should be saved (And not just because I like it)

I have to admit I love 6 Music. I listen to it all the time, and if they do get rid of it, there won’t be much point me even owning a radio any more, let alone a digital one. But that’s not the only reason it should be saved.


I would take issue with BBC Director General Mark Thompson’s crude characterisation of the station as a “pop music” station. In an interview with the BBC News Channel (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/8545538.stm), Mr Thompson said: “We have, in Radio 1 and Radio 2, two popular music, UK-wide radio stations and we should concentrate on doing everything we need to do, in terms of bringing popular music to audiences in this county with those two stations.” Now, anyone with even a cursory familiarity with those three radio stations will know that the content of each of them is completely different to the others. And even if you don’t, there is still the fact that, as Private Eye points out (issue 1258, pg 10), Radio 1 is aimed at 15-29-year-olds, while Radio 2’s audience has an average age of 50, and the BBC Trust has recommended that it do more to target the over-65s. That leaves a lot of people falling into the large gulf between the two stations, even without taking into account those such as myself who feel we have outgrown Radio 1 before we have outgrown its target age bracket.

6 Music features a remarkably rich and eclectic range of music, and presenters like Steve Lamacq and Lauren Laverne really know their stuff. And, yes, it’s pretty geeky. If I was being cynical I could say its ideal listener was the main character from Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity. But it you don’t really have to be that well-informed to appreciate being introduced to great music that would never get played on any other station. And it also provides opportunities for new bands to get heard and perhaps break through into the mainstream (as was the case with the now-ubiquitous Florence and the Machine).

I suppose, when it comes down to it, its not just about 6 Music – I take issue with the Strategy Review’s whole message about ‘doing fewer things better.’ What this means is basically neglecting the niche in favour of the mainstream, and this seems to me to go against one of the main things that the BBC stands for. Surely the whole point of the BBC as a public body is that it can do things that a commercial organisation never could – like serving smaller demographics and taking risks with programming? The ‘fewer things’ it chooses to concentrate on will necessarily have to be crowd-pleasing, populist things, similar to what commercial channels and stations provide. If the BBC has no place for eccentrics, then who else will?
Make your feelings known: https://consultations.external.bbc.co.uk/departments/bbc/bbc-strategy-review/consultation/consult_view

Or email: srconsultation@bbc.co.uk

Theatre review: Money, Shunt Collective, Bermondsey St, London, 12th March 2010

For this show, the Shunt Collective has created a vast and highly original set in a warehouse near its Bermondsey Street headquarters. From the outside, it looks vaguely industrial, some huge metal machine with ladders and walkways around the outside. Then, the audience are led through a door and into the interior. They move through a series of rooms and different levels, where the action of the play takes place above, below and all around. The surprises of each different section of the structure and how it is revealed give the piece part of its impact, so I won’t give too many details, but suffice to say that it is about as far as you can get from a traditional proscenium arch theatre.


The reviews that I had read led me to believe that there was no plot whatsoever, but this isn’t strictly true. It is certainly sparse in detail, the dialogue is often absurd and elliptical and there isn’t a conventional narrative. But the play is based on Emile Zola’s novel L’Argent, which was about a real life banking crash in nineteenth century France, and with this in mind it is easy to see the machine as representative of a financial institution. Early on, a man tries to gain entry into a Kafkaesque bureaucratic organisation. Later, the same character, now a big success, reels off meaningless but ever increasing numbers to show how his unspecified enterprise is growing. Another character tells a story about a man who was desperate to buy shares in “this”, she says, with a wave of the arm that takes in the whole set without explaining what it is that is so valuable.

The machine is an apt metaphor for a bloated financial institution – a vast, incomprehensible structure, whose function is unclear, but whose vital importance is never questioned by those who rush around it, endlessly tending to its hissing, groaning pipes and gears. As the numbers on the screens shoot up, it seems ever more unlikely that the structure can take the strain.

In the end, this show is all about the spectacle. Being at the centre of the action is a successful technique because it is so immersive. Every little detail of the set produces satisfying ‘ooo’s of wonder as it is revealed. The sights and sounds and surprises produce a genuine reaction from the audience. It doesn’t play on the emotions in the way that a character-driven drama might, but it provides an intense sensory experience that never allows you to stay a step removed.

I have an article on Comment is Free...

Check out my Comment is Free article: How saying Kathryn Bigelow has made a 'man's film' does female directors no favours.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/mar/11/kathryn-bigelow-women-male-establishment

Film Review: Up in the Air

George Clooney, despite being one of the most A-listed men on the planet, seems to spend very little of his time making blockbusters. He manages to maintain hugely mainstream status, while choosing roles in offbeat or unusual films, and supporting projects that he believes in (see: Oh Brother Where Art Thou?, Good Night and Good Luck, etc) With this in mind, I had high hopes for this quirky comedy about a businessman who spends most of his life flying from one part of America to another.


In reality, the film did not turn out to be anything special, although it was well-acted and amusing. Clooney is charming and charismatic as Ryan Bingham, who loves his life on the road and eschews emotional ties, and his skills as a comic actor are also on display. Although the film is never hilarious, there are plenty of laughs to be had. Telling little details of Ryan’s life are revealed as he shows off his frequent flyer cards to fellow business traveller and occasional lover Alex (Vera Farmiga), or demonstrates his methods for a quick and painless transit through an airport to the new recruit he reluctantly trains (Anna Kendrick). Kendrick also gives a good performance as Natalie, the overly ambitious young employee with big ideas that threaten Ryan’s way of life.
The film is directed with a light touch and neatly ducks a number of narrative clichés, but it lacks the emotional punch to really make a lasting impression. The characters go through mostly plausible emotional journeys but somehow it is hard to care deeply about them. There is a confusing scene in which Natalie confesses her insecurities to the other two main characters, explaining how she feels under pressure to ‘have it all’ – to be successful in her career but also to be married with children by a certain age. It isn’t clear whether the scene is being played for laughs, or whether these deeply stereotypical concerns are a serious attempt at character development. However, elsewhere I felt the humour was well-pitched.

This is a gentle and entertaining film that is smart enough to resist easy answers or a neat ending, but in emotional terms I felt it didn’t quite get off the ground.

Book Review: The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman

Much as I love Neil Gaiman, I have always preferred him as a writer of graphic novels and children’s picture books. In American Gods, I felt that his wonderful imagination, plot and characters slightly outstripped his talent with prose – he is a good writer, but maybe not a great one, in full-length adult fiction.


With The Graveyard Book, on the other hand, I didn’t have this problem, perhaps because it is in a different category again – a full-length prose book for older children (recommended for 9-12-year-olds). Or at least, that is the intended audience, but I would say it stands up very well to being read by adults. And I can’t be the only one who thinks so, as it is available in an alternative cover, as the Harry Potter books were, for adults who are embarrassed to be seen with something ‘childish’. However, I don’t think there’s any shame whatsoever in enjoying this sweetly macabre tale.

For an adult, it is a short and easy read, but nevertheless an enchanting one. As for children, I think I would have loved it when I was young. Gaiman credits his young readers with the ability to cope with a little darkness, and the book is all the better for it. Nobody Owens, or Bod for short, is an orphan, whose whole family were murdered when he was a baby. He escaped and was adopted by some friendly ghosts. He grows up in a graveyard, and all the resident ghosts become his friends and educators, but as he gets older he begins to yearn to explore the world of the living. However, his family’s murder is still out there, and he has unfinished business with Bod.

The book is structured as a series of interconnected short stories, snapshots of Bod at different ages, growing up and experiencing more dangers, first in the graveyard, and then the world outside. The graveyard folklore and magic that is a part of Bod’s day to day existence is typical of Gaiman – a wonderfully imaginative mixture of charming and spooky. Bod’s adoptive parents and many of the other ghosts are quirky and heart-warming, while other characters are much darker. There is plenty of adventure, but this is also a book about a boy growing up and becoming independent, told in a way that will resonate with readers. On both levels, this book can be enjoyed by both children and adults.

Natural World: The Chimpcam Project (27th January 2010, BBC2)

Chimps are alarmingly clever. Every time we humans think up some defining factor that is supposed to separate us from the animals, we discover they’ve actually been doing it all along. Using tools? Yep. Communication? Yep. Recognising themselves in the mirror and, by extension, having a concept of self versus ‘other’? Yep. Making their own films? Well, ok, maybe not quite, just yet. Despite how the programme was billed, the chimps never seem to actually understand what they are doing when they are carrying a recording video camera (in a highly durable case) around their enclosure.


But, in spite of this, scientist Betsy Herrelko’s attempts to get them to interact with the camera and screen throw up many interesting examples of their intelligence. Despite being adults who have never taken part in research before, they quickly learn how to use a touch screen, to click on and select icons in the form of large red circles. They appear deeply interested when shown footage of other chimps, and when they are given the video camera, they touch its inbuilt screen as though making the connection with the touch screens they have already experienced.

It’s all very humbling. The chimps’ deeply expressive faces clearly show their intelligence and curiosity, making it clear that we humans are not quite so special as we like to think. For me, the most telling part was when the scientists opened up the doors to the ‘research pods’, small rooms off the chimps’ impressive enclosure at Edinburgh Zoo, where they could observe them interacting with the screens and other tests. They were uncertain at first whether the chimps would actually leave their outdoor climbing frames to come into these small rooms. But as soon as they were opened, the chimps had to explore, and they seemed genuinely interested in all the games and diversions inside. It was clear that the scientists could never have got any research done at all, if it weren’t for an equally strong desire in their chimp subjects to ‘research’ every new experience they came across, including the humans themselves.

DVD review: Doubt

This is a hugely impressive film with some of the most masterful acting I have seen in a long time. It was adapted by director John Patrick Shanley from his own stage play and there are certainly signs of its theatrical roots – a limited number of characters and locations, an emphasis on dialogue and character, heavy on words rather than action. Two important verbal clashes between Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman’s characters lasted 10 or 15 minutes each, both taking place within the confines of a single office, and the majority of the scenes are similarly wordy, slow-paced, and in-depth. However, none of this is to the detriment of the film. Instead, it draws the audience into the claustrophobic confines of its world – a Catholic school in New York, 1964 – and makes its central dilemma hit home all the harder.


At the film’s heart is a titanic battle of wills between fearsomely straight-laced nun Sister Aloysius (Streep) and popular priest Father Flynn (Hoffman). Sister Aloysius suspects Father Flynn of molesting a young altar boy, the school’s first black pupil. With no conclusive proof, and expecting no help from the male-dominated church hierarchy, she sets out on a personal crusade to get him to confess. But is she merely motivated by her intense dislike of him and his modernising ways?

Shanley refuses to give any easy answers. He has reportedly never told anyone whether Father Flynn was guilty other than Hoffman and the actor who took the part in the stage version. The audience sympathises most fully with the character of Sister James (Amy Adams), and innocent young nun who finds herself torn between Sister Aloysius’ certainty and her own unwillingness to judge anyone without proof. Father Flynn is in many ways the more appealing character – he is in favour of a more open and approachable church and encourages Sister James in her kind-heartedness and love of teaching, while Sister Aloysius terrifies the children and bans sweets, ballpoint pens and ‘pagan’ songs such as Frosty the Snowman. Yet there is something admirable about her fierce dedication to her beliefs, her determination to be the lone voice standing up against what she believes to be a terrible crime. Much of the film’s power comes from Shanley’s refusal to give closure on this awful dilemma.

Special mention should also be given to Viola Davis, who gives a terrific performance in her single scene as the mother of the boy at the centre of the scandal. Her reaction to Sister Aloysius’ suspicions is one of the most heart-breaking parts of the film