London on Five Pints a Day

On April 22, I ventured back across the Pond to visit Steven, Amy, Godwin, and Bella in London. The trip out was uneventful and, dare I say, fairly pleasant (cue Andrew Bird’s “Fiery Crash”). I do rather like British Airways; being able to check in online and print my own boarding pass saves a ton of time at the airport.

Stupidly, a month or so ago while waiting at the Albany airport for my mother’s delayed flight from Newark, I signed up for a Clear card which prescreens people so they can whiz through special lanes at airport security. Their raison d’être is to “add predictability” to your flight. Something in the back of my mind suspected it was a bad idea, but I tend not to listen to my own brain sometimes. I specifically asked if they had a Clear lane at Newark’s Terminal B (the international terminal) and they said “Yes,” and their literature even mentioned it. Imagine my surprise when I got to Newark airport’s Terminal B and found no Clear lane. So much for predictability. Oh, well. Another lesson learned: never believe anyone who is selling me something.

Anyway, we arrived at Heathrow (happily not Terminal 5, which brings to mind the Monty Python song “I’m So Worried,” which includes the lyrics, “I’m so worried about the baggage retrieval system they’ve got at Heathrow”) on time, although it took some time for the airport to send out a stairway (memories of Arrested Development). I heard on the car radio that it was St. George’s Day, which could explain all the English flags I saw fluttering from windows (not the Union Jack, but rather a red cross on a field of white), although dorky me initially wondered what the deal was with all the Swiss flags. Ahem.

I spent Wednesday hanging about the house and recovering from jet lag (as was Amy, who had just returned from China an hour before I got in). Played with the kids, and Godwin and I bonded in a special way when he threw up on me.

Thursday I had an appointment with the head of the St. Bride Printing Library for some preliminary research I am doing for a potential book on the history of English printing. They had a very fast WiFi network, which let me keep up on e-mail, as I was unable to access any other WiFi network in London (except at the Apple Store on Regent Street). And despite what the woman in the AT&T store in Wilton Mall said, I was not able to use my iPhone in London to make calls. Another lesson learned: never believe anyone who has already sold me something. Still I have to admit that it was extremely peaceful to be completely disconnected. We do become slaves to these damn devices, don’t we?

Anyway, Version 1.0, fresh off the boat from his world cruise, happened to be in town at the same time, so we wandered about London, Covent Garden Market, and got vaguely lost in Mayfair, although I did hear tales from the high seas.

On Friday, S, A, G, B, and I took the bus into the City and had dim sum at a very good restaurant in Chinatown, then wandered down toward Parliament Square. I was hoping to get to tour Westminster Abbey, which I had missed last time, but we arrived too late. We were all rather tired, so we grabbed a cab and headed back to Hackney. (Gotta love London cabs...they don’t reek, they’re clean, and the driver knows where he is going, unlike almost every cab I have ever taken in an American city.) And another mystery solved: there is a sign in the back of the cabs that reads “Red light indicates doors are secured,” which explains the title of an Arctic Monkeys song.

On Saturday, Amy had to work and Steven had to look after the kiddies, so I set out to explore by myself. I had an idea of checking out a presentation at the Royal Observatory’s planetarium on black holes, but I didn’t get there in time, which was just as well, because the weather was perfect, so I was not inclined to sit inside. I had lunch at the Trafalgar Tavern in Greenwich, overlooking the Thames, and had a respectable cheeseburger and a pint of bitter. Pubs.com tells us that The Trafalgar Tavern was built in 1837, the year Queen Victoria came to the throne. In the 19th-century, it was a hangout for senior members of Parliament. The pub was refurbished and re-opened in 1965.

I then decided to walk along the Thames Walk, which veers away from the river and then disappears into a park. It was at that point that I got lost in Lewisham, which seemed like the kind of place one really shouldn’t be lost in. (Then again, this wasn’t the States, so the chances of being randomly stabbed and shot were slim to none; drive-by sarcasm was likely to be the worst I could expect.) Fortunately, I had bought a pocket map of London in Greenwich so it was easy to figure out where I needed to go.

In my wanderings, I came across this road sign. I have no idea what it means, but I think we could all use it at some point:
I ended up at the Surrey Quays, which is a big shopping center just south of the river. Wandering quayside, I came across an inviting pub called the Moby Dick and had a pint of Fuller’s London Pride ale.

My energy cells recharged, I checked my map and found a nearby Tube station on the Jubilee Line. My goal was to take it to Waterloo Station (“Millions of people swarming like flies ’round Waterloo Underground” –The Kinks). However, the Jubilee Line was not running, so I had to take a bus instead. There was a stop at the Tower Bridge Road, so I got off and walked over the Tower Bridge.

The Tower Bridge—often confused with London Bridge (which is thoroughly unremarkable)—was opened in 1894. It is called the Tower Bridge as it is located adjacent to the Tower of London. It spans 800 feet across the Thames, and is a hydraulic drawbridge, and was open as I was crossing it.

Once across, I walked past the Tower of London, then turned west and stopped at a wonderful little pub called the Hung, Drawn, and Quartered and had another pint of Pride.
I continued on, seeing another odd street sign:
“Weak subway”? For a minute, I thought I was in Los Angeles. But I digress...

I continued toward the Monument, which was designed by Christopher Wren to commemorate the Great Fire of 1666. It is 60.6 meters high, said to be the exact distance from its base to where the fire started in Pudding Lane. The monument plays a role in Charles Dickens’ Martin Chuzzlewit and you are allowed to climb to the top. However, it is in the midst of a refurbishment when I got there, and was thus closed, although boasted creative use of large-format graphics.

It was then on toward Blackfriars (where David Copperfield worked for Murdstone and Grinby) but also one of my favorite London pubs, The Blackfriar, which has one of the greatest interiors of any building, let alone a pub.

Blackfriars refers to a region of central London, and the name was first used in 1317, deriving from the black outfit worn by Dominican Friars who moved their priory from Holborn in 1276. The priory was eventually closed in 1538 during Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the monasteries. Later, one of the buildings became the Blackfriars Theatre (which was almost directly opposite Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre across the river). The building was destroyed in the Great Fire of London. The area is now the location of Blackfriars Underground station and the bridge-head for Blackfriars Bridge. And, of course, the Blackfriar pub.
Pubs.com tells us:

This narrow wedge-shaped pub is jammed against the railway line at Blackfriars. It was built in 1875 near the site of a thirteenth century Dominican Priory, which gives the area its name and was the inspiration for the pubs design.

The exterior of the building has jutting wrought iron signs for each bar and the pub's name is proudly displayed in mosaic tiles. A more recent addition is a statue of a large laughing friar above the main door.

Though unusual and pleasing, the exterior does not prepare you for the extraordinary interior. The immediate impression is that of an extravagantly ornate church, or scaled down cathedral, every inch decorated in marble, mosaic or bas-relief sculpture.

The walls, clad in green, red and cream marble, are covered with illustrations of merry monks. Above the fireplace, a large bas-relief bronze depicts frolicking friars singing carols and playing instruments. Another called 'Saturday Afternoon' shows them gathering grapes and harvesting apples.

Three low arches lead into a smaller bar which is like a chapel, this was added after the First World War. Below a beautiful arched mosaic ceiling, are mottos of wisdom, such as, 'finery is foolery' and 'don't advertise, tell a gossip'. The detail here is amazing, even the light fittings are carved wooden monks carrying yokes on their shoulders, from which the lights hang.

The Black Friar’s interior is literally a work of art. It was begun in 1904, with sculptors Nathaniel Hitch, Frederick T. Callcott and Henry Poole contributing to its splendour. This pub is a lasting testament to their skill and craftsmanship. In the 1960's Sir John Betjeman, who later became the Poet Laureate, led a campaign to save the Black Friar from demolition. Thanks to him and his supporters we can still enjoy this delightful pub.

I had a pint of Fox’s Knob, a lovely Highgate brew, and continued down the Victoria Embankment. Across the river, I spied the London Aquarium—bearing the sign “Robot World.”
Oh, no! They’re coming for the fish now!

My next mission was to find—at Vince N.’s instigation—the London home of Number 6 from The Prisoner: Number 1 Buckingham Place (and that’s a hint for all you would-be Prisoner fans).

On the way through St. James Park, I came across someone who was feeding the wildlife and had made quite a lot of little woodland friends. This is a Gary Larson cartoon in the making...

Thanks to my handy pocket map, I found Buckingham Place, which is a very short street near Buckingham Palace. I tried to recall the opening titles of The Prisoner and frame my pictures as best I could. They painted the door...
One block over, directly behind Number 1 Buckingham Place is a small comfortable pub called The Cask and the Glass. Well, I was there...

It was getting on to dinner time and I thought I would a) get to the Apple Store in Regent Street to check e-mail and see if there was anything urgent going on that I should know about and b) try to call Steven and Amy and let them know that I was not going to be home for dinner. No wonder everyone is on mobile phones; I could not find a phone box that a) wasn’t disgusting and b) worked. Either they accepted my coins and then did nothing (meaning I was out 40p), or it accepted my coins and did nothing but complain about not being able to dial the number I had entered, even before I had entered anything, or it just spit my coins right back out at me. Well!

By this time, I needed to visit a crypt (a euphemism for the gents’), so I found another pub called the Glassblower and availed myself of their facilities. And, well, while I was there...

I ended up on Carnaby Street, home of The Kinks’ “Dedicated Follower of Fashion,” and had dinner in a pub called Shakespeare’s Head. I was near Regent Street so I popped into the Apple Store and checked e-mail (as I suspected, nothing urgent). By then it was getting late and starting to rain, so I headed toward the Tube and back to Hackney...

To be continued....

Ay Pee

Greetings from the Washington DC Convention Center, where I am covering the NEXPO conference for WhatTheyThink. While four days of the newspaper industry may be more than flesh can bear, I did have the opportunity to attend the various Associated Press events at which the three Presidential candidates appeared.

Monday morning, I attended the AP annual meeting where Senator John McCain spoke (a basic stump speech) and then fielded some softball questions from AP reporters. While I am certainly not a McCain fan, and at times it seems as if the "Straight Talk Express" was run by Amtrak, he did make some points that I agreed with. For example, he was asked if a McCain Administration would be "more green" than the current administration. (Well, unless he has plans to personally burn down the Amazon rain forest, take up panda hunting, or club manatees, that would not be hard...) and while he is short on specifics (like any other issue, it seems), he did say that a focus on environmental protection, "Even if we're wrong and there is no climate change, the worst that will happen is we leave a cleaner planet to our kids." he also said what I have been saying for years which is why not use environmental issues to encourage
entrepreneurs and investors and drive economic growth through green products and services.

Still, McCain did seem a bit disingenuous when he started his speech by expressing mild annoyance at how the press picks up a line taken out of context and makes a false controversy out of it, then at the end of his speech he chided Obama for the gaffe du jour about the "bitter" remark. Um...what's the difference?

McCain--unlike Obama (see below)--was also conversant about the journalist "shield law" legislation which is currently wending its way through Congress, and this, as you would expect, is a big issue at journalism conventions. When he said he would sign it, he got a big round of applause, although he did say that he was only marginally supporting it as he was opposed to journalists giving away national security secrets to the enemy (what--like al Quaeda had no idea that we were tapping their phones? I think it would be more newsworthy if it turned out that we weren't!)

Anyway, while I can't say that I would ever vote for McCain, he seemed like an affable enough guy.

Shortly thereafter, I got to attend the AP luncheon at which Barack Obama spoke and, I have to say, I was somewhat less than impressed with Obama. His stump speech was less tailored for the event than McCain's, and at times seemed a bit more shrill and "on the attack" than the event really warranted. When asked about the shield law, he answered in very general terms, as if he had no idea that there was pending legislation. His answers to questions, even very simple ones, went on forever. I was reminded often of the Monty Python "travel agent" sketch where Eric Idle starts talking and doesn't stop until he is dragged away ("...and fat German business men forming pyramids, and frightening the children, and if you're not at your table spot at seven you miss your bowl of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, the first item, on the menu of international cuisine....and bloody Watney's Red Barrel....")

It was like: Q: "Senator Obama, wiould you like a glass of water" A: "I have traveled all iover this country and visited many small towns and in some of these small towns hardworking Americans drink water, but in others, they don't drink water, but they still have the utmost respect for water. I think a glass of water is one of the most fundamental things that binds us together as Americans..." Please stop talking!

Anyway, I guess that's a handy way of limiting the number of questions there is time for.

Still, I do like Obama, and I like his basic approach (but from what I have read of what he specifically plans to do...well, not so much).

What struck me about both these events (and Hillary is speaking in about 2 hours--gotta go queue up for that shortly) is that in a room full of reporters, they asked the lamest-ass questions. ("Senator Obama, how do you feel about the excitement that your campaign has generated?" WTF?) Although 0ne classic gaffe was when the chairman of the Associated Press, who was asking the questions, made a Freudian slip reference to "Obama bin Laden." OK, not a huge issue, but come on... In a conference that has done nothing but extol the virtues of journalists, they certainly didn't put on a very good show.

Off to see Hillary....

Clueless

Wow--a new award winner for cellphone-induced moronity. A couple hors ago, I was in Washington, DC, standing at a corner outside the convention center, waiting to cross the street. The light turned to "walk," but there was a police car barelling up the street with its lights and siren going, so everyone waiting to cross stopped and waited...except for one woman on a cellphone who started across the street, blithely engrossed in her conversation, and not glancing to look at the oncoming police car at all, to the extent that the police car had to stop and wait for the clueless yakker to cross the street. Wow. If I had been he cop, I would have stopped and cited her for "walking while being a clueless f&%$^%$ng moron." With my luck, at some point in the future, I will end up in an ambulance for whatever reason, and will croak because some cellphone idiot was too oblivious to the universe to allow the ambulance to go by. Yep, civilization is doomed. Pity.

The Write Stuff

greetings from the New York Roundtable Writers conference. Blogging is light because the hotel I am staying at charges extortionate rates for crappy access, so I am posting this from my iPhone. Watch this space--and http://mediatrends.typepad.com for notes and commentary.

Album of the Day--April 10, 2008

Mark Knopfler
Sailing to Philadelphia
2000
Warner Bros.
Produced by Chuck Ainlay and Mark Knopfler

I am heading down to NYC this morning and whenever I drive to the Albany-Rensselaer train station, I always play Sailing to Philadelphia. (What--I can't blog and drive at the same time? If all the other dorkwads on the road can text or yak and drive, I can blog and drive.) Anyway, Mark Knopfler was the guitarist, songwriter, and singer for Dire Straits, and he is one of my absolute favorite guitar players ever. This is the best of the five post-Dire Straits Knopfler albums and it is the most "Dire" in sound. I first heard it in 2002 in David G.'s car when I last visited California, and loved it, so immediately went out and picked it up, ripped it to my iPod, and it was played constantly while driving around the Southwest in the fall of 2002. Perhaps for that reason it is always the record I play when heading to the train station. It also lets me know if I am running late; if I hit the Northway and haven't yet heard the title track (a duet featuring James Taylor as Charles Mason to Knopfler's Jeremiah Dixon and about, of all things, the creation of the Mason-Dixon line), or reach Route 7 and haven't yet heard "Do America" (a parody of rock tours), or hit 787 and haven't yet heard "El Macho," then I know I'm running late. Appropriately, I always pull into the train station parking lot as "Wanderlust" comes on. Go figure.

Uh oh--I just realized--I'm not leaving from Albany; I'm leaving from the Saratoga Springs train station. Screech!!

Robot Holocaust: Geriatric Park

Japan seems upsettingly eager to cede the world to robot overlords--this time, they will use them to "take care of" the elderly. Uh huh. Says Engadget:

...the Machine Industry Memorial Foundation may not be too far off with its latest assessment. It's suggesting that the jobs of 3.5 million people in Japan could be filled not with younger folks, but with mechanical creatures by 2025. Currently, Japan's population is declining, and the proportion of those 65-years and up is continually swelling; analysts are asserting that the nation could save around ¥2.1 trillion ($21 billion) in elderly insurance payments by 2025 if it relies on robots (instead of humans) to monitor the health of the geriatric set.

And on a related subject (via the Engadget link), this is just freakish and disturbing:

Japan crowns top robots in lavish Tokyo ceremony

The Robot Awards were set up earlier this year by the Japanese government to "promote research and development in the robotics industry," and just ten creations took home prizes out of the 152 entries. The cream of the crop started with the currently-available My Spoon feeding contraption, which helps the elderly and disabled to eat with a "joystick-controlled swiveling arm." Not far behind was the Paro seal, who rocks a furry, huggable outfit with sensors beneath its whiskers that allows it to "open and close its eyes and move its flippers" when petted and held by folks in hospitals. In another instance of "robots replacing human jobs," a "mammoth, automated vacuum cleaner that uses elevators to travel between floors" was highly praised for its sucky actions.

Goodbye, Kitty

There seems to be a strange fascination with incorporating Hello Kitty characters into morbid settings. My favorite were Hello Kitty Tarot cards; now, we have a Hello Kitty tombstone. Wha?

Links Galore!

So many blogs, so little time!

Over at the Romano's Media Trends blog, Amazon attempts to screw small publishers.

Over at Expert Business Source, April Fool's Day dos and don'ts. (I enjoyed contributing to WhatTheyThink's annual April Fool's Day issue.)

A beta of the official Romano's Media Trends site is up...one of the perils of DIY cross-media development is that I am not as well-versed in, say, Dreamweaver as in any print design program. I miss print... Comments? Suggestions? Flames?

Album of the Day--April 9, 2008

Fountains of Wayne
Utopia Parkway
1999
Atlantic Records
Produced by Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood

It's spring, the sun is out, the temperature is in the high 60s, and that means roll down the car windows and turn Fountains of Wayne up on the iPod. Over the course of 12 years and four albums (OK, so they're not very prolific) the duo of Adam Schlesinger and Chris Collingwood ahve proven that they are the Difford and Tilbrook of their generation--indeed, Fountains of Wayne reminds me a bit of classic Squeeze (but with more humor and less drinking). This is tuneful power pop; these guys have a hard time writing a bad song. They get slagged by critics who think their songs should be more earnest, but I think they're fun and funny--and often quite witty. Utopia Parkway is their second album and I think it remains their best (they are best known for the rent-a-Cars-sounding "Stacey's Mom" from 2003). Their characters are often hapless blokes, like the poor guy who's "fit to be dyed" and tries to impress a girl by getting a tattoo in "Red Dragon Tattoo" ("Will you stop pretending I've never been born/Now I look a little more like that guy from Korn"); the unhappy wife in suburban "Amity Gardens" ("If you knew now what you knew then/You wouldn't want to go to Amity Gardens"); the kids from Long Island going to the "Laser Show" at the Hayden Planetarium ("We're gonna make out way across the galaxy/Then we'll head back home on the L.I.E."). And of course, what town doesn't have a "Valley of Malls" ("And god forgive the passengers if we should fail/To find a penny fountain or a half-off sale/I need a merchant/I just started searching for a holy grail"). What can I say--great record.

Album of the Day--April 8, 2008

Alan Parsons Project
Turn of a Friendly Card
1980
Arista Records
Produced by Alan Parsons

The Alan Parsons Project has often been called "the poor man's Pink Floyd," which I hardly find fair, as there are really no similarities--intended or unintended--between them to speak of. The only tenuous connection is that Parsons was the award-winning engineer of Dark Side of the Moon. The Project was hatched in the mid-1970s as a collaborative venture between Parsons and Eric Woolfson, and it was intended solely as a one-off...well, project (the name "Alan Parsons Project" was simply the term used on record company paperwork and it somehow stuck), namely, a musical tribute to Edgar Allan Poe. The resulting album, Tales of Mystery and Imagination, is one of the classics of progressive rock, and was actually a hit in 1975, to boot. Parsons and Woolfson subsequently decided to keep working, and put together a more or less stable band (which never played live, by the way) and a revolving cast of vocalists. Over the course of 12 years, The Alan Parsons Project would release 10 albums, each of which encompassed a particular theme or cocnept (OK, kind of like Pink Floyd), which included robots (I, Robot), pyramid power (Pyramid), alienation (Ammonia Avenue), mistreatment of women (Eve), etc. 1980's Turn of a Friendly Card tackled gambling, and the album is almost a straightforward narrative. The hit single "Games People Play" (the one with the wobbly keyboard intro) sets up the story of a midlife crisis in the brewing, "Where do we go from here/Now that all of the children have grown up?/And how do we spend our time/When there's no one to lend us a hand?" The character bemoans the passage of "Time" (the other hit single) and decides to go to Vegas and gamble (side 2's "Turn of a Friendly Card" suite). It's a great record, with strong songs and sterling production.

Album of the Day--April 7, 2008

The Kinks
Low Budget
1979
Arista Records
Produced by Raymond Douglas Davies

In tribute to the friends who have lost their jobs or been "made redundant" in recent weeks thanks to large-scale corporate freak-out, I offer up Ray Davies' wry, humorous soundtrack to troubled times, released at the height of stagflation in 1979. When the remastered CD version was released in 1999, it sounded horribly quaint--however, it became relevant again two years later--and is now relevant again, especially "A Gallon of Gas": "I've been waiting for years to buy a brand new Cadillac/But now that I've got one I want to send it right back/I can't afford the gas to fill my luxury limousine..." And let's all sing the title track in unison:

Cheap is small and not too steep
But best of all cheap is cheap
Circumstance has forced my hand
To be a cut-price person in a low budget land
Times are hard but well all survive
I just got to learn to economize

I'm on a low budget
I'm on a low budget
I'm not cheap, you understand
I'm just a cut-price person in a low budget land

Excuse my shoes; they don't quite fit
They're a special offer and they hurt me a bit
Even my trousers are giving me pain
They were reduced in a sale so I shouldn't complain
They squeeze me so tight so I can't take no more
They're size 28 but I take 34

I'm on a low budget (What did you say?)
I'm on a low budget (I thought you said that)
I'm on a low budget
I'm a cut-price person in a low budget land

I'm shopping at Woolworth and low discount stores
I'm dropping my standards so that I can buy more

Low budget sure keeps me on my toes
I count every penny and I watch where it goes
Were all on our uppers were all going skint
I used to smoke cigars but now I suck Polo mints

Art takes time, time is money
Moneys scarce and that ain't funny
Millionaires are things of the past
We're in a low budget film where nothing can last
Money's rare theres none to be found
So don't think I'm tight if I don't buy a round

Night Text

Hmm. Maybe the texts are from Rod Serling:

Dead wife contacts Lancs man via SMS
Texts from the Other Side

A Lancashire man whose house has a chilling reputation for poltergeist activity claims he is being haunted by text messages from his dead wife, the Blackpool Gazette reports.
...
Peace then reigned in Windsor Avenue until five years ago, when Jones suffered a double tragedy - the death of his son Steven, 32, from a brain tumour and wife Sadie, 69, three months later from a heart attack.
...
Jones says his family has since received strange SMS messages which they believe to be from Sadie. He concluded: "She always had a mobile with her. We buried her with her phone. There have been messages with words Sadie would say but there's no number."

I've often wondered how the Twilight Zone episode "Night Call" would translate today, with Caller ID and all that. I mean, if Gladys Cooper heard her phone ring and saw "Dead Fiancé" on the LCD, it really would lack that certain je ne sais quoi.

Going Green...

Soylent Green, that is. Given that the lede says that Ted Turner is a restaurateur, I think I'll avoid his place:

Ted Turner: Global warming could lead to cannibalism

Billionaire environmentalist says world has too many people

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Failure to address global warming will have us all dead or eating each other by mid-century.

So says Ted Turner, the restaurateur, environmentalist and former media mogul whose controversial comments have earned him the nickname "Mouth of the South."

If steps aren't taken to stem global warming, "We'll be eight degrees hotter in 30 or 40 years and basically none of the crops will grow," Turner said during a wide-ranging, hour-long interview with PBS's Charlie Rose that aired Tuesday.

"Most of the people will have died and the rest of us will be cannibals," said Turner, 69.

On the plus side, a warmer planet will at least cook us faster. Questions I have, though: What wine goes with human flesh? Would humans be considered kosher? Would we be considered "the other red meat? Do we taste like chicken? Or do we taste like Colonel Sanders? I gotta know...

Album of the Day--April 4, 2008

IQ
The Wake
1985
Sahara Records
Produced by Mike Holmes and Tim Esau

For reasons I shan’t go into, I was in an IQ mood this morning. Along with Marillion, IQ were part of the mid-1980s “fish out of water” neo-progressive rock movement that was not especially popular at the time, but inspired legions of followers in the 1990s and 2000s. Like Marillion and their forebears, IQ tended toward epic songs with varying movements and recurring themes, changes in time signature, outstanding musicianship, and a cult following. Singer Peter Nicholls sounds a little bit like Peter Gabriel, but that’s about where the Genesis comparisons end. Nicholls was also the lyric writer, and the words are dark and cryptic—one never knows quite what he is on about, but he sings it well. The Wake was their second album, released in 1985, and was a landmark in the annals of progressive rock. It incorporates a variety of 80s sounds (electronic percussion in places, newer keyboards, etc.), but never sounds especially dated. The title track and "The Thousand Days" are more or less straightforward songs that could have been singles, or at least received radio play, but, alas never did. IQ would get better over the years; they are still around, despite a few personnel changes, and their 2004 album Dark Matter was, IMO, their best.

Fare Warning

Air Canada wasn't the first airline that came to mind when I read about this idea:

Air Canada to charge for customer service

Airline adds fee to aid customers when flights delayed or disrupted due to weather, traffic

It was bound to happen eventually: Air Canada now wants you to pay extra for better customer service.

In an era of continued cost-cutting, the country's largest airline yesterday rolled out a new service called "On My Way" that, for a fee, promises to help passengers cope with delays and cancellations beyond the airline's control, including bad weather or airport traffic.

"This is something that many airlines used to do in-house," said Rick Erickson, a Calgary-based airline consultant. "But since the advent of the low-cost carrier, everybody wants cheap fares."

Air Canada said passengers who opt to pay an additional $25 one-way on short-haul flights and an extra $35 one-way on long-haul routes within North America will receive "speedy" access to "specially-trained" customer service agents who will help rebook flights on Air Canada or other airlines, as well as pay for hotel stays and meals, if necessary.

At the risk of using a cliched phrase that I'm not a fan of, it's funny how business is now becoming a race to the bottom. Or it's a brilliant money-making proposition; given how many flights are delayed and screwed up in some way, it's a sure-fire way for airlines to get essentially free money. Of course, for $25 to $35, that customer service better be damn good. I guess it's kind of like a first-class upgrade, or it's based on the same principle: make every other class incredibly cramped and uncomfortable and then charge for comfort. Wait until they figure out that they could probably charge extra for clean air (assuming they don't already).

I have no doubt that this will soon turn up in more and more industries. Better check the fine print on your cellphone bill; I'm pretty sure that's where this idea will end up next.

Album of the Day--April 3, 2008

The Clash
London Calling
1979
Epic Records
Produced by Gus Stevens

Steven H. from London called me yesterday, which naturally got me humming the title song—plus I had to go grocery shopping which inevitably sends “Lost in the Supermarket” coursing through my head. Funny thing about The Clash—their albums have always been literally hit or miss: their first album, The Clash, was really good, but their second one, Give ’Em Enough Rope, was not all that great. Their third album, London Calling, was great, and their fourth, Sandinista!, was so not great (although there is probably a decent single LP’s worth of material on what was, in the age of vinyl, 3 LPs). Their fifth and last album, Combat Rock, was really good. So with the Clash—the odd-numbered records are the ones to listen to. Anyway, London Calling is the best of the lot and even as a double album has no filler on it; every song was really good. It was also the album that showed that The Clash were a lot more than a one-dimensional punk band; London Calling features horns, keyboards, and an unabashed love of all types of music, including classic rock’n’roll and, gasp!, pop. It also shows a respect for the past that was the antithesis of the whole original punk raison d’être. The famous story of the album is that the song that would become the “hit”—“Train in Vain”—was added to the end of the album at the last minute and after the record sleeve had been printed, so on the original album, the song title does not appear. Why Epic saw fit to replicate this mistake on the initial CD issue I have no idea.

Album of the Day--April 2, 2008

Bauhaus
Go Away White
2008
RedEye
Produced by Bauhaus

Although known for being the godfathers (or gothfathers) of so-called “Goth Rock,” in the early 1980s, Britain’s Bauhaus were initially trying to be glam in the tradition of David Bowie and Marc Bolan. Of course, how they got from glam to dressing in black, rising from coffins on stage, and lurching through tracks like “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” and “Stigmata Martyr” remains a mystery. Still, as long as one forgoes the drinking of human blood, musically, the band were quite inventive, although they were never more than a cult band. After four albums, they disbanded in 1983, singer Peter Murphy going on to a respectable solo career (“Cuts You Up” was a minor hit in 1989) and the other three members reformed as Love and Rockets, whom I liked better than Bauhaus. There were a couple of Bauhaus reunion tours in the 1990s, but I was not expecting a new album in 2008, a propos of nothing. Shockingly, it’s actually really good, easily on a par with (or perhaps even better than) their original albums. All the trademarks are there: Daniel Ash’s spiky guitar fills and feedback wails, David J’s nimble bass, Kevin Haskin’s inventive drumming, and of course Peter Murphy’s menacing baritone singing about god-knows-what. This one has been on the iPod since it came out last month. “Endless Summer of the Damned” indeed!

April Come She Will

Over at WhatTheyThink, Dr. Joe, Noel Ward, and myself present this year's April Fool's edition. And (no fooling!), the Romano's Media Trends blog is up and running here. And thanks to mi hermano for the cool logo.

Album of the Day--April 1, 2008

The Kinks
A Soap Opera
1975
RCA Records
Produced by Ray Davies

I also heard The Kinks’ “Everybody’s a Star” in a commercial, sending me back to the original album. A Soap Opera—the full title being The Kinks Present A Soap Opera—came in the midst of their mid-70s “rock opera” phase, a year after the mammoth Preservation albums (Preservation Act 2 was two full LPs of fairly tuneless tracks that comprise an incomprehensible plot involving evil real estate developers). The story of A Soap Opera involves The Starmaker (a celebrity artist who can “turn the most ordinary person in the world into a star) taking on the guise of “Norman,” an ordinary bloke, living his life including boring 9-to-5 job, post-work trips to the boozer, even a holiday dalliance. At the end, it turns out that Norman was himself all along, fantasizing that he was a big star pretending to be him...yeah. As Dave Davies (Ray’s brother and Kinks guitarist) says in the liner notes to the 1999 Velvel reissue, “I thought it was an exercise in Ray disappearing up his own ass.” He’s got a point. It may not work as musical theater, and it would work as a collection of songs if it weren’t for the dialogue interrupting some fairly decent tunes. Still, “Everybody’s a Star” is a good song (and was Ray Davies’ poking fun at his own reputation for his skill at chronicling the lives of everyday folks) and other highlights tend to be scattered throughout, like the “When Work is Over”/”Have Another Drink” section, and the closer “Can’t Stop the Music.” Often, the record just gets too damn silly. Fortunately, the band did an intervention after this one and curtailed Ray's operatic aspirations.

Album of the Day--March 31, 2008

Bob Mould
Workbook
1989
Virgin Records
Produced by Bob Mould

While watching the NCAA tournament and getting my first exposure to TV commercials in a few months (I really try to avoid TV that isn't on DVD), I discovered that someone has been using Bob Mould's "See a Little Light" in a commercial. I guess Bob needs the money. I hate it when songs I like end up in commercials; so to protest I turned down the sound on the TV and dug out and blared my old copy of Workbook. After the breakup of the classic hardcore speed punk trio Hüsker Dü a year earlier, 1989's Workbook was Mould’s first solo album and demonstrated a breadth of styles that the latter few Hüsker albums only hinted at. Cellos! Keyboards! And Mould even owns an acoustic guitar! From the mellow acoustic instrumental opener “Sunspots,” to “Wishing Well” (my favorite track, which I recall getting some alternative radio airplay at the time), to the Hüskers kiss off “Poison Years,” to the hit single “See a Little Light”—well, it’s all good. Only at the end (“Whichever Way the Wind Blows”) do the amps get turned up. Although Mould has had a pretty decent solo career, despite his unfortunate discovery and love of techno (his latest album—District Line—is not album of the day...yet), Workbook remains the high-water mark. Well, it and the three Sugar albums...