An Idiosyncratic History of the Music Video, Part 2

Sometimes, good songs have inexplicably bad videos made for them. Recently this point was hammered home to me on viewing the video for The Sisters of Mercy's 1988 single "Lucretia, My Reflection".



I think it's best if I keep a log of my reactions:

0.17: The line "I hear the roar of a big machine" is illustrated by filming Andrew Eldritch standing next to a big machine. This does not bode well.

0.41: Goths on a Train would have been the natural direction for the "Snakes on a Plane" franchise to go in.

0.49: Eldritch appears to have come dressed as the villain from every Hong Kong action film I have ever seen. I actually approve of this.

2.10: Homeless people in developing world filmed for use in goth-rock video. Classy.

2.34: If he keeps pratting about with the metal bar like that, I'm going to think we've found the direct ancestor of Star Wars Kid.

2.53: From what I gather from music videos, people in the mid-to-late 1980s spent an inordinate amount of time running down corridors in slow motion.

4.03: "Oh, sod this - let's just go to the beach."

Athens

I did spend a weekend at a conference in Athens last month, but was too busy with one thing and another to post much about it here. I thought I might share some choice photos, though.

Oh, what a surprise. Yes, the crane is ancient - IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?

The conference was at the main building of the University of Athens, seemingly unscathed by the anarchist riots a week before.

Not far from the university is Heinrich Schliemann's old house, now the National Numismatic Museum, which sported graffiti and broken windows. Whether the anarchists were more enraged by the presence of their oldest enemy - coins - or by the pre-Nazi swastikas decorating the railings, I couldn't really say.

The new Acropolis Museum, unfortunately closed on Mondays, which was the only time I was able to make it there. The glass box on top is a viewing gallery for the Acropolis itself. Opinion is divided over the architecture of the museum - I rather like it.

Graffiti not far from the Acropolis Museum. Arabic, I think.

I did get the chance to spend a short time in the reorganised National Archaeological Museum. Having to take photos without flash meant that not all of my pictures are as sharp as they should be, but I did get some decent shots of a few of my favourite objects.

A Mycenaean boar's-tusk helmet of the 14th century BC. A helmet of this type is lent to Odysseus by Meriones in Book X of the Iliad.

The "Warrior Vase" from Mycenae, c.1200 BC, as discussed in my thesis.

A marble figure of a harpist from the island of Keros, dating to the Early Bronze Age (c.2800-2300 BC).

Maximum Octopus: a Cretan "Marine Style" vase of the 15th century BC.

It Is Snowing Here Also

The North, where we do what we want - or would if we weren't worried about getting the car back into the drive.

The Thesis Is Resubmitted

"Let Me Tell You About My Mother..."

From an RPG.net thread:

"My brother was interviewed recently by a Christian group seeking to introduce its (teen) membership to a variety of faiths.

One of the questions he was asked, non-ironically, was 'Do atheists dream?'"

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

I've had the copy of the revised thesis I gave to my tutor back, and there are no major issues. Tomorrow I should get the copy from my internal examiner, but I saw him today and it doesn't seem like he's picked up much either. I should be on course to actually re-submit it quite soon. All that will remain is what the external thinks. I don't think he'll be able to say that I didn't address the topics he wanted addressed, but whether he'll like what I've said is another matter.

Love in the Time of Culture

Renshaw Street, Liverpool, summer 2008.

Fooling No-One

Just brought to my attention, the flag of the Χρυσή Αυγή ("Golden Dawn") party in Greece:



Hmmmmmmmmmmm. That's the most interesting use of the Greek meander pattern I've seen in a while.

Last Man Standing

My housemate has just moved out of the place where I live, so I currently have the place to myself. Actually, since when I move out at Christmas the landlord will move in here to do some renovations before selling it on, I'm the last tenant to ever occupy the house.

It's strange, because until quite recently I really hated the idea and the reality of living alone - dig back in this blog far enough and you'll find at least one post to that effect. These days, however, living on my own probably suits me best. A factor of age perhaps.

That said, I do now have plenty of space to put people up in if they're in Liverpool over the next few months.

An Idiosyncratic History of the Music Video, Part 1

with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

There is a common agreement - repeated so often that it has become cliche - that the 1960s ended with the death of Meredith Hunter during The Rolling Stones' set at Altamont in 1969. The point where other pop-culture decades ended is usually less clear. I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone put foward an event which ended the 1970s. This is perhaps because everyone was glad the 1970s were over, but that's beside the point.

My suggestion for when the 1970s ended involved Mick Jagger once again, making him some kind of agent of change. The event itself comes in 1985, with the release of the video for Jagger and David Bowie's ill-advised cover version of "Dancing in the Street". Suddenly the world was confronted with Earth's two coolest men somehow contriving to look like nothing so much as your dad and your uncle dancing at a wedding.

Perhaps due to the embarrasment of the participants, it seems that it isn't possible to embed any of the Youtube versions of the video, so if you want to see the evidence you'll have to follow a link.

An Elegant Weapon For A Less Civilised Age

I was recently in Dublin for a "War and Death" conference, and it reminded me that I still had videos of the bronze sword display from WAC-6 last year. I though people might be interested in seeing them, so here we go:

Dr. Alan Peatfield uses a bronze short sword on a melon.

Dr. Barry Molloy uses an Egyptian khephesh on rolled tatami mat, simulating a limb.

Drs. Peatfield and Molloy demonstrate the use of a khephesh against a shield. As far as I know, the man who breaks and runs on 0.19 is not doing so in fear of his life.

Sadly, I was not filming when a Very Eminent Scandinavian Prehistorian accidently almost opened up a woman's arm with a swing of a Bronze Age rapier - a near-miss that was not his fault, but still nearly took experimental archaeology onto a whole new level.

"Would You Like To Play A Game?"

It was the President Madagascar meme which first put me on to Pandemic 2 - a free online Flash game in which you play the part of a global pandemic, with the aim being to wipe out humanity as quickly as possible. The joke is that Madagascar has only a single seaport as a point of entry in the game, and the government there is extremely quick to shut off all communications before your virus arrives. For the record, I have yet to win the game, although I did manage to wipe out everyone apart from Japan, New Zealand, and (of course) Madagascar.

The topicality of the game put me in mind of a text-only game from the 1980s - which I cannot find mentioned anywhere on the internet - which allowed you to simulate a nuclear exchanged between the US and USSR. It did a very nice job of re-creating the mindset of MAD: launch everything you have at everything they have in the first wave, and hope that you still have something left at the end to technically make you the winner.

It also made me think that topicality in games was something that we didn't have for quite a while. In the glory days of the British computer game industry in the 1980s we had plenty, with Harrier Attack and Wanted: Monty Mole springing to mind. I suppose the small size of games then made it easy to produce them quickly, while events were still recent. As game have gotten more complex, the development time has increased markedly. Flash games seem to have provided a new way of producing things quickly, though.

Academic Comedy

Yesterday brought the revelation that my internal examiner is a big fan of BBC Three's not-as-good-as-Boosh-or-Conchords-but-still-good-fun comedy We Are Klang. This is funny both because he himself reminds me a lot of the guy in it who plays the teacher in The Inbetweeners, and because I suspect the programme represents his view of the department.

There's also the matter of this little gem on prehistoric art from my external examiner's 2007 book:

And the men are usually phallic. Why? Presumably not because they fought battles in that state; apart from the obvious discomfort and impracticality, one would think it would be physically impossible to sustain such a state during combat (it seems unlikely that experimental archaeology will come to our aid in this instance).

He wasn't that bleedin' funny in the viva, let me tell you.

Don't You...

I think I first saw The Breakfast Club when I was about 15, which is probably the perfect age at which to do so. A few years later, when I was at university, I forced some of my friends to watch it. They didn't get it, I still did. These things stay with you: I'm considering re-creating the Judd-Nelson-on-the-football-field pose here in Liverpool when I finally get the thesis re-submitted.

It's easy to get caught up in the 80s nostalgia element of the John Hughes films, but they're more than that. I reckon they're streets ahead of most films made for a teenage audience today, at any rate.

Hit And Hope

This week I submitted an application to an institution in New York which funds research into human aggression, domination and violence. It should probably be there now, in fact. I asked for a year's funding to expand the work of my thesis into a published monograph. I have pretty much no expectation that the application will be successful, but there you go.

There's A Popular Misconception/Says We Haven't Seen Anything Yet

So here we are at the 40th Anniversary of Apollo 11. For me the most surprising thing is discovering that Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins were all 39 when they did the mission. Clearly there's plenty of time left for me to do something important.

It seems to be pretty common these days for people to dismiss the whole Apollo project as a meaningless exercise which cost a huge amount of money which could've been better spent elsewhere. Perhaps, but it's worth noting that Apollo cost far less than the Vietnam war and killed a significantly smaller number of people.

Anyway, by way of celebration, some music. It was down to either this, or "Also Sprach Zarathustra". The tie-breaker was that Clint Boon was DJ-ing in a club once where I got so drunk that I couldn't see properly. Has Richard Strauss done that for me? Has he bollocks.

And, because it's one of the best things ever to appear on the internet, here we have Buzz Aldrin ("Second comes right after first!") offering a robust response to someone claiming that he never actually went to the moon:

Park Live

At the point in British pop-culture when it was imperative that one chose between Blur and Oasis, I chose Blur. In Manchester in 1995, this was an interesting and perhaps hazardous choice. However, looking at the post-Britpop careers of the two bands, I'm pretty sure I made the right choice. Thanks to my sister, we got tickets to the first of the Blur gigs in Hyde Park on Thursday last week. Because it was really hot in London that day, and because the support acts were so disappointing (The Foals? Friendly Fires? Where are all Damon's world music mates when you need them?) we decided to turn up pretty late in the day, about seven. This worked pretty well, with the heat starting to die off as we arrived, although we also managed to make our usual error in going to the wrong tube station and having to walk the long way round to the entrance.

I confess to not really having followed the ins and outs of the Blur breakup when it happened, so my sister filled me in on the fact that it was Coxon vs. everyone else. Also discussed was how Damon had gone from being reviled in the mid-90s to pretty popular today, while Alex James is now apparently hated for for owning a dairy and writing about it in The Observer. It just goes to show though: someone should have told Jackson that all he needed to do was spend a decade pretending to be an animated character and writing elaborate stage shows about monkeys, and all would have been forgiven.

Once inside we grabbed a beer and headed into the crowd to get a good spot in what turned out to be a very big crowd indeed. As ever, the crowd itself provided all the needed entertainment before the band comes on. On particularly good form were two guys stood just behind us:

[Roadies wheel a big trolly of equipment onto the stage]

MAN 1: Maybe Damon's going to come on early and do some of his solo stuff?

MAN 2: I think everyone would get tired of Dub Reggae pretty quickly.

Then, a bit later:

MAN 1: (Observing the big map of Britain to the right of the stage) What's that island between Britain and Ireland?

MAN 2: I dunno, but I reckon we should go and check it out.

I hope they do, but I can't help but feel that they'll only be disappointed.

We've been to festivals and gigs in Hyde Park for a few years now, and what surprised us this time was the amount of plastic bottle-throwing, which started prior to the band coming on and continued throughout the evening. It reached epidemic proportions just before Blur took to the stage, and was oddly impressive, like a low-budget fireworks display. Also it was fun to imagine Blur cowering backstage, thinking "Oh God, is our comeback going to vanish under a hail of empty Tuborg bottles?"

Fortunately this failed to happen, and a cheerful and slightly dazed-seeming Albarn and the rest entered from the right. Albarn's somewhat garbled take on things was a main feature of the evening - comparable to seeing The Who a few years ago, but Townsend and Daltry have the excuse that they're now nearly a thousand years old. My favourite piece of incomprehensible banter from Damon? "At one point during this song I'm going to start running towards you, and I want you all to literally run towards me...literally, but not physically." What?

My era of Blur was really "The Great Escape", because I preferred them pretending to be The Kinks rather than pretending to be Pavement. What turned out to be one of my highlights of the evening came pretty early on, with a thumping, up-tempo version of "Girls and Boys": parody of Ibiza dance doing a pretty good job of being the real thing.

Perhaps it was the heat, or the size of the crowd, but the twat-ratio seemed to be higher than previous Hyde Park gigs we'd been to - witness the bottle throwing, but also one guy stood near us who, before nearly every song, shouted "PLAY THE ELVIS ONE!" Bizarrely, it turned out that this meant "Tender is the Night". No, I don't know why, either.

Tender is the night was very popular with the crowd, who continued to sing "Oh my baby/Oh my baby/Oh why/Oh my" for a short time after the song had finished. This did not go down well on stage, and Albarn responded with "If you want to carry on singing, could you leave the park and go down the road a bit?" Gracious as ever, Damo!

All the big hits were played, with people going absolutely fucking mental for "Song 2", causing a guy just to my left, who had a bag full of Graham Coxon flyers he was giving out, to desperately dive around saving the bag from beneath people's feet. "Coffee and TV" was enjoyed in a more sedate way, and it was only when Coxon introduced it that I realised that I'd somehow made it all the way through the 90s without realising that he has a really silly speaking voice. Maybe that's what drove him to drink?

"Park Life" obviously, was the centrepiece of the set, for which Phil Daniels joined the band on stage for simian-style mockney-dancing. Damon also told us that Hyde Park was the inspiration for the song, because he'd lived just around the corner in the early 90s.

The encore closed with "The Universal", always one of my favourites, although unlike the video there were no Clockwork Orange references forthcoming from the stage. It was a great way to finish - after all, it is now the next century...

WE really enjoyed the whole thing, and given the amount of energy expended by Albarn and the band it might be a good thing that we were there on the first night, because they must have been knackered on the Friday. I'd certainly be interested in new Blur album, if one's in the offing.

Teaching Greek Pottery To The Inbetweeners

Well, this week saw me doing a little outreach work for the department, by giving the Greek pottery session that I do for the undergraduates to classes of Sixth-Form students, in the hope that it'll encourage them to come here and do archaeology. It's a tough balance to strike: you want to be upbeat and friendly, but it's very easy to slip into doing this to nightmarish levels - see Graham Norton's character of the Youth Group Priest in Father Ted for reference.

it seemed to go pretty well. Despite the title of the post, the groups were really good, and I'd have been happy to have had them as an Undergraduate class.

My other work at the moment sees me writing a chapter on Bronze Age warfare in Italy and the Balkans. This has involved mechanically translating five books out of German, then making notes on the translation. Still, I now know an awful lot about the bronze swords of Hungary and Romania. I look forward to listing that as a skill to someone at the Job Centre.

You Can't Help Being Hard Up/Can't Trust The Gods We Trusted

There is, of course, a question as to whether I can afford the time or the money to go and see them. There's also a question as to whether I can afford to *not* have the bass line to "At Home He's a Tourist" echo around my ribcage.

Waiting For The Tanks

Found here, a "new" photograph of a familiar and moving scene. Remarkable.