Memories of Killing Joke (1984 - 1987)

Killing Joke in their mid-80s splendour

(L-R: Geordie Walker / Paul Raven / Jaz Coleman / Paul Ferguson) 

 

A correspondent writes: 

I got the impression from a recent post [1] that you were something of a Killing Joke fan back in the mid-1980s and I was hoping you might expand on this - did you, for example, ever see them live in this period, when, in my view, they were at their very best? 

 

Well, as a matter of fact, I did see them live on at least three occasions; as attested to by the following entries in the Von Hell Diaries (1980-89) ...

   

 

Sunday 1 Jan 1984

Hammersmith Palais: felt a bit like a hippie event with people sitting on the floor. Having said that, there were some fantastic looking individuals amongst the assembled freaks and morons. The support band were the March Violets: who were shit. An inferior Sisters of Mercy (who are also shit, by the way). Is there something in the water in Leeds?

      There was also a young male stripper prior to Killing Joke making their entrance on to the stage. All the punks began to pogo as if on cue (to the latter, not the former). To be honest, the set got a bit dull half-way through; I suspect that all gigs are at their best in the first ten minutes with the initial release of energy. 

      Mostly, the group played old songs and I was a bit miffed that they didn't play any of my favourite tracks from Fire Dances (although they did do a rousing version of 'The Gathering' as an encore). Jaz Coleman [2] is a captivating performer. The rest of the band are essentially just solid musicians (albeit ones who look the part and know how to create a magnificent noise). 

 

 

Sunday 3 February 1985

 

Off with Andy [3] to see Killing Joke at the Hammersmith Palais once again ...

      Lots of punks out and about on the streets of West London - and lots of police to keep 'em in line. Felt like a mug having to queue up for tickets. Met Kirk [4] inside as arranged, though he fucked off to watch the show from the balcony with some video director friend of his. A couple of support bands: Heist and Pale Fountains; neither of whom were much cop. Killing Joke came on to all the usual fanfare - and Gary Glitter's 'Leader of the Gang'. 

      The set was made up of tracks from the new album - Night Time - and the first two albums (nothing from Revelations or Fire Dances). Became separated from Andy and made my way to the front. Got so hot that I seriously thought I was going to spontaneously combust (though probably sweating too much for that). Brilliant night: almost tempted to describe it as a (neo-pagan) religious experience - song, dance, and Dionysian frenzy. Even Andy enjoyed it (I think).   

 

 

Sunday 28 September 1986

 

Back to the Hammersmith Palais for what seems to be becoming an annual event in the company of Killing Joke. Not a bad show, but nowhere near as good as last year. It also felt like a much shorter set; one which opened with 'Twilight of the Mortal' and closed with 'Wardance'.  

      Most - if not all - of the songs were from the first, fifth and (yet to be released) sixth album. The new tracks sounded great - and Jazz looked amusingly grotesque as he blew kisses to his brothers and sisters - but the performance never really took off. And so, I went home feeling a little disappointed.      

 

 

Finally, it might also interest my correspondent (and other readers) to know that I once met Jaz Coleman, at Abbey Road Studios:

 

 

Friday 7 August 1987

 

Lee Ellen [5] rang this morning: she said if I got over to Virgin by 1 o'clock, then she'd take me with her to the studio where Killing Joke were recording and introduce me to Jaz Coleman (having reassured him that I wasn't some lunatic fan). 

      Jaz was much smaller in person than expected and had strangely feminine hands, with long, slim fingers. He also dressed in a disconcertingly conventional manner. Geordie, the good-looking guitarist, was there, but the rest of the band, apparently, had been fired.

      Jaz played tapes of the new material (just the music - no vocals); sounded good (quasi-symphonic). He said the new album would be called Outside the Gate - which is a great title [6] - and that it would bring the Killing Joke project to perfection. After completing it, he planned to emigrate to New Zealand. 

      Mr. Coleman also took great pride in showing me parts of a book he'd been working on for eight years and we talked, very briefly, about D. H. Lawrence's Apocalypse (which he liked) and Yeats's Vision (which he didn't like). 

      Before leaving, Jaz expressed his desire to converse at greater length one day and I very much look forward to that (should such a day ever in fact arrive) [7].   

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm guessing the post referred to was 'Musical Memories' (30 Aug 2023): click here - although I do mention Jaz Coleman and Killing Joke in several other posts on Torpedo the Ark. 

 

[2] Jaz Coleman; lead singer with post-punk British band Killing Joke.

 

[3] Andy Greenfield; friend and, at this time, a Ph.D student at St Mary's Hospital, Paddington.

 

[4] Kirk Field; friend and, at this time, lead singer and lyricist with the band Delicious Poison. 

 

[5] Lee Ellen Newman; friend and, at this time, Deputy Head of Press at Virgin.  

 

[6] In fact, I thought this was such a great title that I later borrowed it for my Ph.D - although the phrase outside the gate can be found in Nietzsche and D. H. Lawrence, and is also often used in occult circles.

 

[7] It hasn't so far. 

 

 

Although there were bootleg audio recordings made of all three gigs discussed above and these are now available on YouTube, they are of such poor quality that they don't give a fair representation of just how good a live band Killing Joke were (and to diehard fans still are). Readers are therefore invited to click here to watch a performance recorded live in Munich, at the Alalabamahalle, on 25 March 1985, for broadcast on German TV.     

 

Musical Memories

(E. G. Records, 1983)

 

 

It's amazing just how strongly certain songs from forty years ago still continue to resonate. For example, the Killing Joke single 'Let's All Go', released from the album Fire Dances in the summer of '83, still makes me want to take the future in my hands and find that feeling somewhere [1].

 

I'm not sure why that is, but I don't think it's simply related to the power of the music or the brilliance of the band. In fact, research indicates that most people tend to privilege songs from their adolescence and early adulthood and that this isn't merely nostalgia. 

 

Rather, the musical connections that become entangled with life experiences during this period will trigger vivid memories and strong emotions long into old age and - because these memories and emotions will for the most part be positive - this makes one happy in the present (not just yearn for the past). 

 

Interestingly, psychologists speak of a musical reminiscence bump - something that refers to the fact that people tend to disproportionately recall memories from between the ages 10 to 30 years old, which is precisely when many novel and self-defining experiences become deeply encoded in the brain and when people are most fascinated with pop culture and busy constructing the soundtrack of their lives [2].

 

This music-related reminiscence bump has been found to peak around age fourteen; songs popular at this age seem to evoke the most memories overall. For me, that would be the songs of the Sex Pistols in 1977. However, I would argue that the songs that I loved aged ten (in 1973) - such as those by Gary Glitter - and aged twenty (in 1983) - such as those by Killing Joke - mean just as much and are as closely linked to happy memories, happy days.

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The joyous track, 'Let's All Go (to the Fire Dances)', by English post-punk band Killing Joke, was released as the sole single from their 1983 studio album Fire Dances, on 7" and 12" vinyl by E.G. Records in June 1983. It reached number 51 in the UK Singles Chart and was the band's first single to be accompanied by a music video which can be viewed on YouTube by clicking here. 

      Fire Dances - the fourth and, in some ways, my favourite Killing Joke album, was released the following month (also on E. G. Records). It was first to feature new bass player Paul Raven, was critically well-received, and reached number 29 in the UK Albums Chart.   

 

[2] The reminiscence bump was identified through the study of autobiographical memory and the subsequent plotting of the age of encoding of memories to form the lifespan retrieval curve (i.e., the graph that represents the number of autobiographical memories encoded at various ages during an individual's life span). Not surprisingly, after the reminiscence bump flattens out, we tend to remember less and less vividly. 

 

 

Candy Flower

 

 

 

I suppose it's due to the red and white design, but the flower on the left makes me think of my mother - or, more precisely, of my mother's favourite sweet; the creamy strawberry and yogurt flavoured hard candy made by the German company Storck [1] and sold under the brand name Campino ...

 

Launched in 1966, Campino, like its equally delicious caramel-flavoured stablemate, Werther's Original (1969), has given pleasure - and, as a dentist might depressingly add, tooth decay - to untold millions of adults and children ever since.

 

Why these individually wrapped delights were mysteriously discontinued in the UK, thereby obliging British sweet lovers to buy them at an inflated price from the US or Canada, I don't know [2]. But it's a damn shame, as Vincent Vega would say.

 

Although, as much as I miss these sweets, I miss my mother more.  
 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] August Storck KG, trading as Storck, is a German confectionery manufacturer headquartered in Berlin. It is owned by Axel Oberwelland, the billionaire great-grandson of the eponymous founder (who later changed his surname from Storck to Oberwelland). The quintessentialy British chocolate brand Bendicks, has been a subsidary of August Storck since 1988. 

      For more info, please visit their website by clicking here.      

 

[2] I suspect it was probably something to do with concern over so-called E-numbers (i.e., substances used as food additives).   

 

 

Black Sun Flower

Black Sun Flower (SA/2023)

 

 

Is it just me, or is there not a suggestion in the flower on the left of the sun-wheel symbol [1] that Nazi occultists had such a fondness for? 

 

I think there is: and it makes one wonder whether it serves to illustrate Oscar Wilde's anti-mimetic contention that life imitates art [2]; or, alternatively, proves that even a flower can be fascist?  

 

Either way, I think we can all agree that at the core of every flower burns something obscene and evil, like a tiny black sun, and that this is something that many poets, philosophers, and gardeners remain deeply uncomfortable with. 

 

In fact, Bataille is one of the few writers who dares to stare into the heart of vegetal darkness, affirming the inexpressible reality of the flower and rejecting the sexless and sunless descriptions traditionally offered [3].

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The schwarze Sonne symbol originated in Nazi Germany and is now employed by neo-Nazis and other far-right individuals and groups. 

      The symbol consists of twelve radial sig runes and was used as a design element in Heinrich Himmler's SS castle at Wewelsburg. It is uncertain whether it held any particular significance for Himmler, but the black sun later became linked with neo-Nazi occultism and used as a substitute for (or variant of) the classic swastika design. 

      For a Lawrentian take on this concept of the black sun, see the post entitled 'Excessive Brightness Drove the Poet into Darkness' (3 Oct 2021): click here. 

 

[2] See Wilde's essay 'The Decay of Lying', Intentions (1891). An earlier version of the essay was published in the literary magazine The Nineteenth Century, in January 1889.

[3] I'm paraphrasing here form an earlier post entitled 'Fleurs du Mal' (25 April 2015): click here. 

 

 

Readers might like to see a related post to this one on how Jamie Reid's Cambridge Rapist motif haunts the natural world: click here.

The Malcolm McLaren Estate Vs The Vivienne Foundation

 

 

I. 

 

Once upon a time, as everybody knows, Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood were lovers, creative collaborators, and business partners. But then they fell out, went their separate ways, built solo careers, began to bore everyone, got old and died.   

 

 

II. 

 

The Malcolm McLaren Estate was established by his sole heir and executor - as well as his girlfriend and business partner for the last twelve years of his life - Young Kim. 

 

Its primary purpose seems to be to advance the idea that Malcolm was a visionary genius and pop cultural icon: "An artist in the most post-modern sense of the word, working in every conceivable artistic and intellectual medium ..."

 

 

III.

 

The Vivienne Foundation was launched as a not-for-profit organisation following her death in 2022 [1]. 

 

It exists not merely to honour, protect and continue the legacy of Westwood's creativity and activism, but in order to implement "Vivienne's plan to save the world" by halting climate change, stopping war, defending human rights, and protesting capitalism. 

 

IV.

 

Unfortunately, but perhaps inevitably, relations between the Malcolm McLaren Estate and The Vivienne Foundation are not exactly cordial. 

 

And this week, they have taken a significant turn for the worse following an article by Young Kim in which she reveals the truth about Vivienne's creative relationship with Malcolm and Westwood's unrelenting animosity towards the man who enabled her to become a celebrated fashion designer [2].

 

Kim's main complaint - and it's a serious charge, for which she has a good deal of evidence and justification - is that The Vivienne Foundation is continuing the process (started by Westwood) of revising cultural history and trying to erase McLaren's fashion legacy. 

 

Whether that justifies Kim's description of Westwood as uneducated and provincial, is debatable. 

 

And, to be fair, Westwood was a lot more than McLaren's assistant during their time together at 430, King's Road, although I absolutely believe it to be the case that the majority of ideas - certainly all the best ideas - were Malcolm's; not Vivienne's, not Bernie's, not Rotten's, but Malcolm's.   

 

Finally, Kim is also angry about the fact that many of the McLaren-Westwood designs sold as authenticated originals - with the Vivienne Foundation's blessing and support - are, she says, inferior copies, or fakes.

V.

 

Not surprisingly, Joe Corré - co-creator and director of The Vivienne Foundation - has defended his mother and responded to Young Kim's accusations. 

 

In a letter to Gill Linton [3], he claims, for example, that there "never was a 'McLaren Westwood' brand or label", which, if technically true, is more than a little disingenuous: the actual label designed (by McLaren) for the Seditionaries personal collection contains both their names (his first; then hers).

 

More astonishing, to me at least, is the fact that Corré would argue that his mother was in professional partnership with his father, McLaren, only for a "relatively short period" and that this (twelve-year) period is of minor significance compared to "the later parts of her creative career", when she produced items "of much greater interest and value".

 

Corré concludes his letter by saying that it is laughable that items sold from the McLaren-Westwood period - 1971-1983 - should first be authenticated by the Malcolm McLaren Estate: "Appraisal and authentication relies on the knowledge and credibility of experts. The McLaren Estate does not have anyone in this area and we certainly do not require their help." [4]

 

It is, as I say, all rather unfortunate ... And strangely depressing.   

 

It's also, essentially, a family feud; as evidenced by the fact that even Joe's daughter - the model and activist Cora Corré - is enlisted to defend the four pillars and help claim the moral high ground for her dear departed grandmother, whilst hardly stopping to give a tinker's toss for her equally dear, equally departed, but infinitely more interesting and amusing grandfather [5].

 

  

Notes

 

[1] I am reminded that The Vivienne Foundation was initially launched - by Westwood herself - as The Vivienne Westwood Foundation in 2018, but it's the Foundation's current existence, following Westwood's death in December 2022, that mostly interests me. Although a not-for-profit organisation, it should be noted that it is not a charity. 

 

[2] This article can be found in the Evening Standard (25 Aug 2023): click here to read online. Young Kim had originally written to Gill Linton (see note 2 below) claiming there were serious problems with the Westwood concession on Linton's Byronesque website.

 

[3] Gill Linton is the founder and Chief Executive of Byronesque, an online boutique selling contemporary vintage fashion, with whom The Vivienne Westwood Foundation work closely: click here. The letter Joe Corré sent to Linton in response to Young Kim's email to Linton - which the latter forwarded to Corré - can be read here on the Byronesque Instagram account. 

 

[4] In his letter to Linton, Joe Corré also takes an unnecessary (possibly libelous) pop at McLaren's esteemed biographer and the man who arguably knows more about the sound of fashion and the look of music than anyone else, Paul Gorman, much to the latter's understandable - slightly weary - outrage: click here.    

 

[5] In an interview on the Byronesque website entitled 'From Seditionaries to Saving the World', Cora Corré says of Westwood: "I feel incredibly privileged and lucky to have had her as a grandmother and a teacher. [...] In a way I feel her fight will always continue through me shedding light on issues and speaking up for people that don't have a voice." 

      Click here to read the interview in full (if you can stomach the virtue signalling, the self-righteous hypocrisy, and political naivety that the Westwood family and foundation seem to specialise in).  

A Brief History of Bingo

britbingo.com

 

According to the animated bulldog who fronts the launch ad on TV for Brit Bingo, the game is "as British as fish and chips, the orderly queue, afternoon tea, village cricket, and barbecues in the rain" and people in the UK have loved playing it "for over 200 years" [1].

 

That's not quite true, however ... 

 

For the game itself - not originally called bingo - is thought to have had its roots in the Italian lottery of the 16th-century. From Italy, this game of chance migrated to France and was popular amongst members of the aristocracy. It only spread to Great Britain later, during the early 18th-century, via the Royal Navy [2]. 

 

As for the first modern version of the game, this emerged on the American carnival circuit in the early 1920s, and is attributed to Hugh J. Ward, who secured a copyright in 1924 and wrote a book of rules in 1933. When, for marketing purposes, he decided to come up with a catchy new name, Bingo was born [3].    

   

Following the Betting and Gaming Act of 1960, which legalised certain forms of gambling, bingo became insanely popular across the UK - indeed, I remember playing bingo with my mum and dad at the seaside, when I was a young child in the early 1970s. 

 

Since 2005, however, bingo halls have seen a marked decline in revenues and many have been forced to close; high taxes, the smoking ban, the covid pandemic, and the rise of online gambling - including bingo sites such as Brit Bingo - proving to be a fatal combination of factors [4].   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Click here to watch on YouTube. The ad was made by Brit Bingo in collaboration with Double Dice Films, a London-based video and animation production company.

 

[2] Cultural commentators believe that the Maltese introduced the game to British sailors in the early 1800s (at this time, the Royal Navy housed their Mediterranean fleet in Malta). By the end of the 19th century, Tombola - or Housey-Housey as it also became known - was the game of choice throughout the military.

 

[3] The origin of the English slang term bingo is uncertain, though it is said that customs officials used to employ it as an exclamation of triumph after a successful search for smuggled goods. Some credit toy salesman Edwin S. Lowe - and not Ward - with adopting this name for the game (and it was Lowe who was awarded the 1942 patent for the modern bingo card design). 

 

[4] Having said that, it should be noted that there are still a few hundred bingo halls in the UK, more than twenty of which opened in 2021-22. So, going for a night out at the bingo with your mates is far from being a thing of the past. However, in the 1980s, there were over 1,600 bingo halls operating, so obviously there has been a significant fall in the number of people playing. Those who wish to know more about this decline of bingo halls since the 1980s, should click here.   

 

 

I on Sports: One Guy's Opinion of Football as a Televised Global Spectacle

 

According to Roland Barthes, professional sport in general - and perhaps football in particular - is a modern phenomenon cast in the ancestral form of spectacle:

 

"At certain periods, in certain societies, the theatre has had a major social function: it collected the entire city within a shared experience: the knowledge of its own passions. Today it is sport that in its way performs this function. Except that the city has enlarged: it is no longer a town, it is a country, often even, so to speak, the whole world ..." [1]

 

That's true, I suppose - and even more so now, 60-odd years after Barthes was writing, when football is played, watched, and talked about in almost every corner of the planet; from Timbuktu to Tipperary. 

 

Only the Olympics comes close to capturing the huge global audience that the World Cup attracts every four years; we're quite literally speaking about billions of (mostly poor) people enthralled by the sight of 22 millionaire-idiots kicking a ball about for 90 minutes in the attempt to score a goal. 

 

It's arguable, of course, that the fans in the stadium are more than mere spectators; that everything that the players on the pitch experience, they also experience; that unlike theatre or cinema goers, football supporters actively participate in the spectacle and may even help to determine the outcome of the game. 

 

But then, the vast majority of fans are not actually pitchside; they're watching the game on TV and I would suggest that's a whole different kettle of fish; this is football that is no longer sport in the old (noble) sense of the term, but sport as choreographed entertainment and commercial product; sport in an age of hyperreality and hypercapitalism.

 

The agony and the ecstasy of the football fan is not so much liberated any longer, as cynically exploited and I woud suggest that the game has now lost its beauty, its innocence, and its meaning. But then, as Sam Malone would say: This has been just one guy's opinion ... [2]

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Roland Barthes, What Is Sport? trans. Richard Howard, (Yale University Press, 2007), pp. 58-59.  

[2] See Cheers, season 6, episode 2, 'I on Sports' (Feb 1988), dir. James Burrows: click here to see all of Sam's sports editorials. 

 

For a related post to this one on football and the (lost) art of time-wasting, click here. 

Powertooling with Heide Hatry

 

Heide Hatry at the School of Visual Arts (New York)

 using her Fein Multimaster

 

 

There are many reasons to admire the German-born artist Heide Hatry. 

 

In no particular order, these might include:

(i) She's talented ...

 

(ii) She's intelligent ...

 

(iii) She's good-looking ...

 

(iv) She wears interesting footwear ... 

However, I think the thing I love the most is that she seems genuinely excited by her discovery of the Fein Multimaster; an oscillating power tool for cutting, sanding, and grinding [1].

 

In a recent post on Instagram, Heide gushes that the Fein Multimaster "opens up thousands of new possibilities" and thrills at the fact that it vibrates at a speed of up to 20,000 oscillations per minute! She even includes a short video of herself using the Fein Multimaster to create one of her smuggler bibles: click here.

 

Whether we might characterise Hatry's fascination with the Fein Multimaster as fetishistic is, of course, debatable; as far as I know she doesn't identify as a mechanophile and doesn't have a kinky attraction to machines, nor gain sexual satisfaction using hand tools. 

 

But she might do: although, even if she does, that would hardly be something unusual within a culture wherein everybody is enframed by technology and besotted with mechanical devices to a greater or lesser degree. 

 

Of course, it might be that I'm the one with the fetish; not so much for machines and power tools - I hate DIY, and my idea of Hell involves wandering for all eternity inside a giant B&Q - but for women operating machines and wielding power tools. 

 

Partly, it's a class thing; I've always been attracted to factory girls, particularly those of the 1940s, like Rosie the Riveter. 

 

But it's mainly due to the controversial music video for Benny Benassi's debut single 'Satisfaction' [2], featuring six sweaty young women in skimpy outfits in what is essentially a pervy ad for a range of power tools: click here.  

 

 

 [3]

 

 

Notes

 

[1] C. & E. Fein GmbH is a manufacturer of high-end power tools located near Stuttgart, Germany. Founded in 1867 by brothers Wilhelm Emil Fein and Carl Fein, the company invented the hand-held electric drill in 1895 and was responsible for many other innovations. Fein became best-known, however, for its Multimaster, the original oscillating multi-tool. 

      Readers who wish to do so can visit their website by clicking here. Or for more information specifically on the Multimaster, click here.  

 

[2] Italian DJ and record producer Benny Benassi is widely regarded as a pioneer of electro house, a genre brought into the mainstream with his 2002 summer club hit "Satisfaction", taken from the album Hypnotica (2003).  

      Initially, a music video was made featuring three men and a woman and consisted of one three-second take of the four people turning to face the camera and smile, played in slow-motion to match the length of the song. Various animations were overlaid, including close-up pictures of the lips of a man and a woman singing along to the song. It was rarely shown and is now barely remembered. Nevertheless, anyone interested in watching can click here.

       The second - and some would say infamous - video, directed by Dougal Wilson, and featuring the models Jerri Byrne, Lena Franks, Rachel Hallett, Natasha Mealey, Thekla Roth, and Suzanne Stokes, is, however, firmly lodged in the pop cultural (and pornographic) imagination.

 

[3] This collage features Rosie the Riveter, a model advertising the Fein Multimaster, and an actress from the music video for Benny Benassi's 'Satisfaction'. 

 

 

On Football and the (Lost) Art of Time-Wasting

 

Today, we live in an era of universal Fergie time; one impatient of stoppages 

and which threatens to extend a 90-minute game indefinitely.

 

 

I.

 

I don't like football. I used to, when I was a child, in the '70s. Back then, I used to love playing football on the green and watching big match highlights on TV. But not now. I suppose I've changed. But so too has football changed. As one commentator writes:

 

"The sport that we loved so much as children no longer exists. It has been replaced with a Narrative of Football; a new game deeply entrenched in analysis, code, writing, superfluous discourse, and orchestrated controversy." [1]

 

This is football in the age of hyperreality and hypercapitalism. And it's also football played at such a manic pace that it has lost all sense of sporting rhythm; hyperactivity has destroyed the ebb and flow of the game and that most vital (and complex) aspect known as time-wasting. 

 

II.

 

In an excellent piece for The Guardian, Barney Ronay describes how in the latest version of what was once the beautiful - often boring and profoundly frustrating - game, everything is now micro-engineered to produce maximum effective playing time. 

 

Referees, argues Ronay, are now no longer present "simply to keep the mechanics of the game working, to understand handball and fouls and offside, but to police how football should feel and look, to decide what exactly can be deemed entertainment" [2]. 

 

This is the referee as television floor manager - that is to say, as the one who ensures that a TV production goes smoothly and that everyone involved in the on-field action - players, managers, supporters - knows exactly what they have to do and when they have to do it. Keep the ball moving! Keep the noise levels high! Ensure there are plenty of talking points for the pundits to analyse! And above all, don't ever forget the cameras are rolling!

 

This season, referees have been empowered (and instructed) to take aggressive action against time-wasting. And Ronay is right to say this is "a profound and quietly sinister little tweak, a value judgment taken without any broader consultation on what the game should look and feel like, with some deeply undesirable implications" [3]. 

 

Of course, on the face of it, this is an entirely reasonable change to make; in fact, the laws of the game have always discouraged (and allowed referees to punish) time-wasting. But, what is going on here is really something quite radical, driven by purely commercial considerations: 

 

"As ever, follow the money. The drive to increase active 'game time' (itself a vapid, ill-defined concept) comes directly from Fifa. And Fifa is essentiality a TV rights distributions agency, its entire model based around increasing screen revenues. What we have here is the laws of the game being employed as a tool to doctor the perceived TV entertainment value of the product ..." [4] 

 

If it risks player fatigue or injury, never mind! If it risks pissing off the fans in the stadium, who understand how the art of time-wasting is an intrinsic part of the game, who cares? The people who count are the big name sponsors and the punters who pay to watch the match live on TV - and they won't tolerate dead air. 

Ronay concludes:  

"Football is not a gameshow. This is not choreographed entertainment. The reason this thing has survived and flourished is precisely because it is messy and feverish, made up of both piano and forte, moments of fury interspersed with interludes of vital, brain-mangling boredom. And yes, time-wasting is part of the game, an ugly, maddening part, but a source of beauty in its referred effects; not to mention an entirely legitimate tactic in a 90-minute game." [5]

Unfortunately, however, football is now choreographed entertainment; played by millionaires, owned by billionaires, and watched by a global TV audience who expect non-stop action and plenty of goals, i.e., exactly the same kind of idiots who think one-day cricket is superior - because faster and more sensational - to test match cricket and want to see six after six after six.  

Ronay's hope that in this burnout society we will once again allow sport to catch its breath, is, sadly, in vain ...  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Luke Alex Davis, 'Football Is Dead' (3 April 2022), on the website Playrface: click here. 

 

[2-5] Barney Ronay, 'Time-wasting in football is ugly, maddening - and absolutely vital', The Guardian (17 August 2023): click here. Those who are interested in this topic might also like to read: Cameron Carter, 'Football has elevated time-wasting into a sophisticated art form', The Guardian (19 Oct 2022): click here.  

 

 

For a related post to this one on football as a global televised spectacle, click here.

A Statue of One's Own: Notes on Laury Dizengremel's Sculpture of Virginia Woolf

Bronze sculpture of Virginia Woolf seated on a riverside bench 

in Richmond Upon Thames by Laury Dizengremel (2022) 

Photo by Maria Thanassa (2023)|

 

They made a statue of us / And they put it by the riverside / Now tourists come and sit with us  

Blow bubbles with their gum / Take photographs of fun, have fun [1]

 

 

I. 

 

When plans were first announced to place Laury Dizengremel's sculpture of Virgina Woolf on a bench overlooking the Thames, concerns were raised by members of the Richmond Society who, recalling details of her death [2], feared it was not only insensitive, but  also potentially triggering [3].

 

Richmond Council, however, were not persuaded and supported the siting of the statue, where it would be encountered by far more people than if it were tucked away on a residential street (although whether it encourages discussion of mental health issues, feminism, and sexuality, is debatable).

 

The £50,000 bronze sculpture was finally unveiled in November 2022. Speaking at the unveiling ceremony, Woolf's great-great niece, Sophie Partridge, said critics of the project were narrow minded and insisted that Woolf should be celebrated for her work, not defined by the way she died.   

 

 

II.

 

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to attend the above ceremony. However, I finally got to see the work up close and personal this week, when I took the Little Greek on a literary tour of Richmond to celebrate her name day.  

It's not bad: certainly better than the barefoot bronze of D. H. Lawrence by Diana Thomson, that stands in the grounds of Nottingham University; or Danny Osborne's reclining Oscar Wilde Memorial Sculpture, in Merrion Square, Dublin. 

 

At any rate, Dizengremel's life-size figure wasn't irritating and didn't immediately make me want to smash it. But neither did it make me want to sit down and take a selfie, which, apparently, is the aim. For Dizengremel believes art should be accessible and encouraging of interaction. And she is keen to make lofty literary figures like Woolf not only relatable, but touchable. 

 

'It is my hope', she says, 'that Virginia will be rubbed raw ...'

 

I have to say, I imagine that Woolf would have been horrified at the thought of being pawed (one might even say molested) in this manner by members of the public; of becoming public property. Personally, I think people should show more respect, not less, to great figures and learn to keep their hands to themselves. 

 

It would be preferable, in other words, if people remained a little afraid of Virginia Woolf - her intelligence, her demeanour, her sapphic superiority and disdain for the masses and modernity - rather than emboldened by a bronze figure to the point where they sit and put an arm around her shoulders in an act of gross overfamiliarity.

 

Finally, let me ask those who think this sculpture is a victory for feminism: How is turning a remarkable woman into an object and plaything in this manner challenging stereotypes?

 

 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] With apologies to Regina Spektor, whose lyrics to the song 'Us' I have slightly reworked here. 

      'Us' was a 2006 single release from the studio album Soviet Kitsch (Sire Records, 2004). To listen to the track and watch the official video, dir. Adria Petty, on YouTube, click here. 

[2] On 28 March 1941, Woolf, aged 59, drowned herself by filling her coat pockets with stones and then calmly walking into the River Ouse near her home in East Sussex. 

      Woolf had been troubled by mental illness throughout her life; she was institutionalised several times and attempted suicide on at least two other occasions. Some commentators trace this back to the sexual abuse she (allegedly) suffered a the hands of her two much older half-brothers, George and Gerald Duckworth, about which I have recently written: click here. 

[3] The group's chairman, Barry May, rather ludicrously suggested that the sculpture 'might distress anyone who knows her story and is in a vulnerable state of mind'. One suspects he had ulterior motives in opposing the siting of the work by the river; perhaps he suffers from automatonophobia, or perhaps he's just afraid of Virgina Woolf.