Following in his father’s footsteps?

Libération headline, 13th October

Ha. Sarko’s (23-year-old, inexperienced, foppish) prodigal son dropped his bid to head l’EPAD – the planning board for Paris’ business quarter – today, following a huge backlash from the French public.

The Magnetic North

The Magnetic North – Notes from the Arctic Circle By Sara Wheeler (Jonathan Cape £20)

The author of Terra Incognita, which was about the untouched Antarctic, reluctantly travels to the “complicated, life-infested” north; its polar opposite in more ways than one.

The hostile territory, “as close to Mars as we can get”, according to Martian aficionados, isn’t what she’s afraid of. But Wheeler is ambivalent about the Arctic’s history, politics, and inhabitants – complications absent in Antarctica.

Once “the front line of the Cold War”, the Arctic circle is now the front line of climate change, which Wheeler explains lucidly. Nonetheless, there is something rather sinister about embarking on what is essentially a holiday, with all the emissions that go with it, to lament something already well-proven and accepted by science.

Wheeler is more adept at writing engaging descriptions of people and sceneries than tackling global warming. Her language is poetic and atmospheric, and she draws on the works of previous visitors – Dickens, Checkov, Turi and Munthe – to illustrate her own experiences.

It’s not just a fly in my sandwich, it’s a Marks & Spencer fly in my sandwich

'Count on us'. Oh yeah.

Summer so far

– Blur et.al in Hyde Park. Pure awesomeness; wonderful. Apart from the realisation I am too old/anxious/neurotic to mosh anymore. Even though we did arrive at 2pm to secure a place three metres from front barrier.

– Leonard Cohen. Possibly best gig ever, or at least in the top five (despite weirdly inappropriate venue and unrelenting rain).

– Avignon. Went for my aunt’s anniversary and 70th birthday. Stayed in a lovely YMCA youth hostel avec piscine. Party weekend coincided with Avignon theatre festival so went to lots of shows (might write more on that later) as well as hanging out with relatives. Hot.

– Lido. Been to Brockwell lido a dozen times this summer, and Tooting three times. Tooting is objectively the nicer swimming pool, and, at 91 metres, the biggest open-air one in Europe, apparently. But Brockwell is a convenient 20 minutes walk from home.

– University Challenge. Went up to Manchester twice to see Jack competing for UCL. Lots of fun.

– Reviews. Wrote my last ever book review for Big Issue, after 7 years of service, because they are cutting their commissioning budget, which, strangely, does affect me even though I never got paid. But I will now be writing two short non-fiction reviews for the Financial Times each week instead 🙂

Still to come: Proms, more swimming, Field Day, dancing, gardening

Capital markets

That’s where all the mischief was
Rocket scientist types
At the top
Confluence in factors that operated
Two bad assumptions / Housing prices unlikely to go down
Assets less correlated across the country
Based on history / In
1983, doug diamond
Predicted they would be infrequent
Private equity funds faring badly
Some other stuff predictable / Not teaching anything differently

Overheard at work

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to do anything. I had a lunch and then I was on TV.”

Welcome to Europe – where an ice cream costs £3

Walking from my work to the Royal Festival Hall to see Squarepusher, Jack and I bumped into two friends, AW and AC.

AW told us how he had haggled over a 99′ flake earlier. Presented with his ice cream, AW was asked for £3.

£3. For a 99’flake. Oh, how times have changed.

“I’m not paying that!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, alright, you can have it for £2,” said the man in the ice cream van. “You’ve got yourself a real bargain there,” he added.

“No I haven’t,” grumbled AW.

AW was on his way to see friends, and AC to see Let the right one in, the Swedish vampire-horror-art flick (it’s a niche genre) I saw at the Ritzy a couple of weeks ago, on one of the best days ever.

When we told them we were on the way to see Squarepusher, AW said he had seen him at All Tommorow’s Parties (ATP is a sore point), “with his bass guitar and his light show”. I didn’t really know what he was talking about, so I just smiled and nodded politely and wished him a good evening and farewell.

Now I know what he was talking about. Gig was awesome, as expected. But Squarepusher kind of actually rocked out, which was less expected.

Space in the Royal Festival Hall – “Clore ballroom”, apparently – was used brilliantly. The whole of the RFH was reserved for the gig, so it had a real festival feel to it, with people sitting on stairs and on the floor and dancing and all that. DJs pre and post Squarepusher were ok, if a bit safe, in the traditional sense of the word.

Listen and review at the same time

Beware by Bonnie Prince Billy (Domino, 2009)

Am finally listening to Bonnie Prince Billy’s latest album, having had it lying around for ages. It’s weird, there was a time when I would have put it straight on as soon as I received the review copy through the post. But the time hasn’t felt right; or I’ve been busy; or listening to Radio 4, because that requires less emotional investment than almost anything.

I haven’t even reached the end yet and I’ll listen to it lots before making my mind up, but so far I’m not feeling it. Too produced? Too sad? Too upbeat?

Is this a break-up album, like Malcolm Middleton’s

5:14 fluoxytine seagull alcohol john nicotine

that I love love love?

The song titles certainly point me to that conclusion:

You can’t hurt me now; You don’t love me; I don’t belong to anyone; Without work, you have nothing.

But so far I’m not hearing Middleton’s rawness. In true Bonnie Prince Billy style, it’s more woeful, more country, more blue. More slow.

In fact, scrap the Middleton comparisons. If I must compare (and I must), then this is more Smog. Y’know, Cold blooded old times, Moving to the country and all that.

The few numbers I’ve heard since I started writing are swaying me – I like it. I could love it.

Cat ladder

Our home-made cat ladder has made it onto the seminal catladder blogspot.

Fame at last.

Burn down the disco/Hang the blessed DJ

Superstar DJs Here we go! – The Incredible Rise of Clubland’s Finest
By Dom Phillips (Ebury, £12.99)

Supposedly an account of “the biggest British pop cultural phenomenon since the birth of rock’n’roll”, Superstar DJs might seem to have potential. Phillips, a former editor of dance magazine Mixmag, is knowledgeable and enthusiastic about music in the nineties, the period he writes about. The subject – the rise of the celebrity DJ, drug-fuelled excess, and packed dance floors – is definitely interesting.

But little planning seems to have gone into this project. Indeed, its execution is at best directionless, at worst incoherent. Amusing anecdotes are lost in a poorly written, jumbled narrative.

Also, the DJs Phillips writes about often have little in common apart from playing records and being successful. The amazing James Lavelle, whose Mo’Wax label fuses hip-hop and electro, is mentioned in the same breath as Fatboy Slim, who began his career in a Christian-Marxist rock band, and acid house DJ Sasha. Phillips says little about the music, preferring to show off and write about the high life of those making it – a shame.

Read Last Night a DJ Saved my Life by Frank Broughton and Bill Brewster instead. It’s way better.