Eurovision 2019: Madumma

Eurovision.
It's like doing community service: we're sentenced to 4 hours annually, guilty of the misdemeanor of the watching the previous year. Those in the know tell me that it's a bit like child birth: it takes 3 months to forget the excruciating pain and 9 months to prepare for the next one. Why are we compelled, every 12 months, to press our noses to the screen? Perhaps in the hope that there'll be another ABBA moment. And the best thing on last night's was indeed an ABBA moment: a 'Mentalist' who somehow managed to encourage 3 fellow inmates to write 1974, 45, and Abba on 3 separate cards. This highpoint (yup) was a sad reminder that it is indeed 45 years since that benchmark Abba performance. Last night was the usual parade of pathetiques: a gallery of gurning, disco dirge, hysteria and faux emotion. Oh, and a bit of Icelandic 'death metal' to add some street cred' and remind us that it's cold up north and they don't give a stuff... This was a freak show presented by freaks. It was 'spectacular' but it was also dazzlingly dumb.
'Could you do any better?' I hear you say.
Not bloody likely: not in this particular field.
Why would you want to?
In this particular field there's always something unpleasant that you might stand in.
Why do they do it?
It must take half a career to recover.

Sorry to be unkind but the unrelenting pop eyed desperation of the burlesque was so squirmingly unsettling. I stuck around for Madonna. Her much anticipated turn was to feature after Bloated Bjork and before Rigged Result. There would surely be a MADGE moment? A new direction that allowed for her dodgy hip, conjunctivitis and failing vibrato. Might she even drop the F BOMB' to further unravel the unravelling presenters? Nope. Madge covered all Euro cultural bases by dressing up like a pirate auditioning for 'Game of Thrones'. With straight laced sincerity she told our bizarre gathering that they were 'all winners' because they'd bothered to turn up. I assumed that made me a 'winner' too so I stuck with it... Strewth! To give her performance integrity and sonorous meaning Madge was surrounded by monks chanting her name. At least they pronounced it properly and chanted in tune. There are always chanting monks with Madge. Why the fixation? Perhaps they are meant to suggest a quasi-religious erotic experience? They merely contributed to the slight whiff of dry crutched celibacy. Madonna's car crash performance will surely haunt her until... the next one. This 'special' staging and performance had been kept 'under wraps' but was more like an embalming. Whose idea was it to force The Queen of Pop to shuffle down, then stumble back up an infinite flight of stairs? Surely the budget could have stretched to a Stannah Stairlift? Poor gal. Someone should've rung Age Concern. Our Madge then suffered the ultimate ignominy of having her flatness fed though an Auto Tune turned up to 11, reducing her to a poor man/woman's Sparky/Cher as she duetted with a similarly encumbered bloke who looked like he'd shuffled in from a different audition: one that also involved pirates but Avengers, Captain America and vintage motorbikes too. Ms Ciccone then 'symbolically' slapped around a couple of vestal virgin's wearing fox's heads. Isn't that banned in Europe? This was horrible: a macabre blood sport of sorts. Horrible. Perhaps Brexit could be accompanied by a lifetime UK Eurovision ban? 30 years would do for me. Horrible. Horrible. Horrible. Graham Norton gave up taking the p*ss. Even Wogan would've been struck dumb.
And yet we watched on.
I found myself rooting for the shrill Gob on a Stick that was Australia.
The voting would at least offer the inevitable coup de grace to the over ambitious wannabe. There'd surely be the fetid, frowsty odour of crumbling coalition and conspiracy. Greece would vote for Cyprus, Sweden would shamelessly vote for Norway and no-one would vote for the shameful UK. It pretty much panned out. Sweden's John Lundvik looked like a stick on winner but stumbled at the last fence: stitched up by the public vote. There was excruciating schadenfreude as, in cruel close up, Lundvik's expectant victory 'high 5' became a limp wrist. I don't know the name of The Netherland's winning wailer. Let's call him 'Bloke'. It had taken 4 hours of spinning midgets and flashing light warnings to deem the least dressed up singer the winner: Bloke was a triple denim 'delight'. At least he had the decency to be dull: the most moving thing about Bloke's performance was the piano... So, after months of auditions, rejections, rehearsals, the filtering and thinning of talent, the grooming of delights: this was the best that Europe had to offer us: a Coldplayesque whinge dedicated to a giant bulb. 
Maybe Bloke was in on some secret joke? 
Maybe Bloke was looking for a lightbulb moment. 
Or his own reflection. 
Judging from his knotted eyebrows I think he found neither.

Carver's Law: 5: Drinking Alone

Here is the latest in a series of films made by the Slovenian artist Matej Kolmanko in support of Carver's Law. For me, the fascinating thing about this collaboration is that I have no control over the outcome: unusual for someone who likes to have his hands set firmly on the wheel. 

The content of this particular film is undeniably provocative and unsettling: not something that you'd usually connect with my music. It is interesting that Matej homed in on the notion of transience: something that colors many of the songs on Carver's Law. Matej offers us a children's birthday party and his own Granny's 80th celebration. And a decaying pig. Two parties and a pig then... The central image might unsettle a few folk but I think that it acts as a stark reminder that, however willful and spirited we are, flesh is weak, decline is inevitable. I wrote 'Drinking Alone' with Australian writer David Bridie. It's the first track on the album: a song that sets up the journey and it is echoed by the final song, another Bridie co-write, 'Woebegone'. 

I find Matej's film oddly moving: grossly engrossing. The eye is unsettled; flits from image to image. Youth, decay, old age. We celebrate the passing of time and yet we often deny and reject the effects of the yearly transition. Every journey leads to a 'home' of sorts: that ultimate destination. As such, the recognition of death is a celebration of life. There are reoccurring themes in the songs on Carver's Law: transience, hope, remembrance, the filtering of memories, the settling of scores, forgiveness, aging and (yup) decay, so the decomposing pig, although unpalatable, is apt; a stark reminder of the inevitabilities: and we all kick against those: ever hopeful that a quick jog and a smoothie will conquer all. We try to hold back the years with lotions and potions but it's hopeless: that 'hoping of hope'. And, as we know, it's the hope that'll kill you. We are not stardust. We are not starlight. We are not golden. We are olden. But is this delusion the secret to a happy life? I reckon not. It's a cover up. We age. We cover it up. We die. We cover it up. We bury the body deep. It would be glib to simply say that we should celebrate decline. Any nurse or carer will remind us of that. We all watch our loved ones slip off the planet. Why look away? I reckon that it's vital to recognize the passing. Facing it square on is a celebration of sorts: however hopeless the prognosis. And hope? Our best hope is for some kind of legacy; that signs of our own life endure: markings on a wall to remind folk that 'I was here'. St Augustine wrote that “it is only in the face of death that man’s self is born.” And Montaigne posited that “although the physicality of death destroys us, the idea of death saves us.” Woody Allen added to the party: "My relationship with death remains the same. I am very strongly against it." 

I'm with Woody... 

Song: 'Drinking Alone'

Writers: Trevor Jones/David Bridie

Album: Carver's Law (2019)

Film Director and Editor: Matej Kolmanko
Time lapse footage taken from "Decomposition of Baby Pigs" by Jerry Payne (1965).

Carver's Law: 4: The Press Release

Starting to move towards the release of 'Carver's Law' on July 12th. We have the much respected promotor Jim Soars on board to help present the album to the various dailies/weeklies/monthlies. I think that he'll be working the radio stations too. Work starts 3 months in advance as the monthly magazines such as 'Uncut', 'R2' and 'Mojo' require that much time for 'the turnaround'. It's interesting how things have moved on since 2016's 'Happy Blue'. Many journalists don't require CDs anymore; just a download link. I struggle with this for a couple of reasons: firstly the CD will be of much better audio quality than the compressed MP3 that it'll be judged on: secondly, for me the artwork has always been a vital part of the presentation: the tactile element of any release seems to have disappeared into the ether. Frustrating, considering the amount of thought and, yup, artistry that we put into 'hard copy'. This surely undermines the carefully considered work of our cover designer/artist Barry Cross. The artwork for 'Carver's Law' is just lovely: it's a shame that those who require but a link won't get to thumb the shiny pages and perhaps consider the text and lyrics. Same shame too for those who download rather than acquire the CD. It would look great on vinyl: maybe later...
Interesting that the knock on is that we are also no longer required to send a physical press release. This now goes out as an email attachment rather than a glossy sheet of card.
Here it is for you to ponder: lovely words of encouragement by writer Paul Woodgate: lovingly designed by Barry Cross. Here: reach out and touch the screen...