This meths was clearly an anagram. And yes, I know The Smiths only appeared here a few weeks ago, but they had two excellent songs to share. First, the really obvious one...
Summer's over and the time is right to bring back some of the ongoing series I abandoned just prior to my holiday from teaching (aka the Exhaustion Weeks). It's a cliché that I go back to work for a rest, but...
As usual, I'm stealing another query from Richard Herring's book EMERGENCY QUESTIONS and trying to answer it with added songs. Here's today's question...
What age would you like to be when you get to heaven, presuming there is a heaven and you get to choose what age you'll be when you're up there?
Putting aside whether or not we believe in any kind of afterlife, this is a thought-provoking question. If we're lucky enough to live to an old age, we wouldn't want to be stuck at that age, for eternity, with all the frailties, disabilities and marble loss that might come with it. We'd want to be young and strong and ready to take best advantage of our nirvana...
No thank you very much. I wouldn't mind going back and reliving a good day of my adolescence, safe in the knowledge that I could return to where I am right now before the bad days kick in. Because I did have a good many bad days as a teenager, days of self-doubt, embarrassment, humiliation days and crushing loneliness.
In answer to Rich's question then, I'd probably choose to be mid-30s. Some time just before I fell down the stairs and broke my arm, also causing a slipped disc in my back which still bothers me today. Some time before the aches and pains set in...
This blog resolutely rejects all the tenets of National Socialism, and so, I'm sure, do all the bands below...
THE NEW ORDER #1
All those guys named above were New York's The New Order in 1966. They released a handful of songs and wore some very snazzy shirts...
...and then they were gone.
THE NEW ORDER #2
When the Stooges fell apart in 1974 due to Iggy's generally mental heroin-induced behaviour, guitarist Ron Asheton formed a new band called The New Order. Their first singer was thrown in jail for drink, drugs and refusing to do community service. They produced a bunch of demos which were eventually released on album compilations, but it all fell apart long before the New Order had chance to become the Old Order.
NEW ORDER #3
Out of the ashes of Joy Division (a name which originally referred to women in concentration camps who were forced into prostitution by the Nazis) came another band who stole their name from Hitler and his cronies.
Some time ago, I wrote about why I hated this particular New Order for many, many years... and it had nothing to do with the band themselves, or their music. I'm over that now, so please feel free to vote for them today if they tickle your fancy.
THE NEW ORDER #4
Sadly, I failed to find any audio for the 1981 field recording of Bradford Red Light District released by The New Order, a group who chose the name in protest about New Order #3 "stealing" their name from New Order #2. I did find the cover below though, which makes some erroneous claims about who was involved in the production. Genesis P-Orridge was apparently so mad to have his name included that he went round all the record shops that were stocking the vinyl to destroy the sleeves. One man happy to take responsibility was "noise and industrial musician" William Bennett, who was also in the following "groups"... The 150 Murderous Passions, Or Those Belonging To The Fourth Class, Composing The 28 Days Of February Spent In Hearing The Narrations Of Madame Desgranges, Interspersed Amongst Which Are The Scandalous Doings At The Château During That Month. Actually, that's just one group.
Which New Order would you place today... and which are only following orders?
In my past two Self Help For Cynics posts, I've
looked at how the brain uses stories to build neural pathways. This can be a
positive thing in that it helps us learn knowledge, skills and how to survive…
but it can also be negative if the stories we use to learn end up reinforcing
bad habits, unpleasant ideas or defeatist emotions. Last time, I explained how a nasty
teenage experience had created neural pathways in my head that made me hate New
Order. However, just the act of writing about that experience has honestly
lessened the animosity I feel towards a band that’s never done me any harm.
There are two explanations for this. Firstly, understanding why we think the
way we do is the first step towards changing the way we think. (That’s the main
reason I’m writing this series.) Secondly, you can overwrite bad neural
pathways with good ones by replacing negative experiences (stories) with
positive ones. Here’s another example from my terrible teens…
Chumbawamba - Homophobia Was I a homophobic teenager? I grew up in the 1970s and 80s. Positive representations of gay people
in the media were limited to Larry Grayson and Mr. Humphries from Are You Being
Served? Camp, limp-wristed caricatures. In the pop world, we had the Village
People and then Boy George. Many less stereotypically gay stars like
Elton John and George Michael kept their secrets for a long time. Even
Freddie Mercury – one of my teenage pop heroes – refused to confirm his
sexuality, right up to the point he told us he was dying of AIDS. Tom Robinson
might have proclaimed himself glad to be gay in 1978, but I certainly didn’t
hear about it.
Far worse than the clichéd media portrayal of homosexuality was the strong
undercurrent of homophobia fostered by straight male society. “Backs against
the wall, lads”, “shirtlifters”, “poofters”… these were phrases I heard on a
weekly basis from my peers, my elders… even on TV. Add to this that the only
openly gay person in my school was a bitchy viper of a boy (probably a defence
mechanism, and I can hardly blame him for that)… well, you can see how my
storytelling brain was busy building negative neural pathways throughout my early
adolescence.
Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy
You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down
Things did start to change in the mid 80s, with more openly gay
celebrities, and alternative music and comedy which celebrated LGBT culture. It
was at this point when I finally started to question the prejudice I’d been a
part of in my early years of high school. But it wasn’t till I started working
in radio, at 16, that the stories in my brain were completely rewritten. At the
radio station I worked at, there were a lot of openly gay men. And as I got
to know them, I liked them. Often more than I liked some of my more hetero,
alpha male type colleagues. Some became lifelong friends and so my storytelling
brain was forced to write new, stronger neural pathways that cancelled out my
old prejudicial ones.
Spearmint - Your New Gay Friend All this just reinforces the value of positive representation in the
media, in my mind at least. The anti-woke brigade rail against the fact that
every TV show these days has to feature a variety of sexualities, skin colours,
genders and differently-abled individuals. But only through frequent exposure
to people who are not the same as ourselves will our brains stop fearing these
unknown beings who are actually just like us, for good and bad. This all seems
a bit obvious to me, to the point where I’m not sure I needed to write it…
certainly not for the open-minded folk who read this blog. I’m preaching to the
converted.
Those that are harder to convert – the ones who turn off their TVs
whenever they see a gay kiss, for example – maybe they’re beyond help. And
there are certainly plenty of storytelling options available to them
(particularly online) which feed and reinforce their own negative neural
pathways. We’re a long way from a utopia.
As to the Audi drivers… I keep hoping one day I’ll have a positive
experience that allows me to rewrite the neural pathway prejudice I feel
towards them. They can’t all be bad…?
US Power Pop star Dwight Twilley left us last week, at the age of just 72. I reckon I first came across Dwight's music through our old pal Brian. Yes, here he is to tell us more. And here's a classic slice of Dwight...
And here's a modern band who were clearly influenced by Dwight's sound...
Hey Sammy
Do you wanna go for a ride
Get Shitty
Can you feel it on a Saturday night
Dwight Twilley
Blowin' up your mama's hi-fi
No really
I'm so glad we're in it tonight
Actor Burt Young also passed last week. No mentions in the jukebox, but I couldn't let Rocky's brother-in-law go without at least a mention...
For fans of the inexplicably popular ball kicking activity, this week's biggest celebrity death will be that of Sir Bobby Charlton, of whom the most I can honestly say is that I've heard of him. And so has the jukebox...
There was a short-lived band from Bradford in the early 90s called The Bobby Charltons. Sadly, their music appears to have never founds its was onto the interweb. Herman's Hermits have though... and here they are with an ode to the team for whom Sir Bobby played most of his football...
Here's a rather patriotic (I'm hoping sarcastically so, but no quite sure) anthem from Staffordshire rock band Demon. Worth including because it's the first time I've seen Morecambe & Wise mentioned in song...
Even more worrying is Elton John's version of Give Peace A Chance. I'm all for a bit of Elton, but the whole Spike Milligan / Frankie Howerd routine gets a bit much...
Everybody in the Soviet Union, unite
Go down to the shops and talk about John and Yoko
Timothy Leary, Barbara Windsor, Yoko Ono, Madonna
Bobby Dylan, Bobby Charlton, Eddie Charlton
Tommy Cooper and the Amazing Horseradish Dancers
Derek Baker, Norman Mailer, Alan Ginsberg and the Hare Krishna Three
Since the New Order detente detailed on Monday, I feel a little more charitable towards the following track... though New Order + Football is still a tough ask in this house.
Miki Pannell is from Italy. According to his bandcamp page, he's been in the following bands... Demented Are Go. Aaron Memphis, Spectacular Band, The Hugs, Soulteros, 33 Revolucciones, Showdown, Stressless Rockin' Band, Zak Washington and the Boogiemen, Rose Tinted Spectacles, Something Shocking, The Court Jesters, Rhythm Bound and The Royal Scumbag Orchestra. He remembers Bobby for that famous comb-over...
Remember bald is beautiful, Yul Brinner could be you
So if you start to lose it, here's what you've got to do
Don't do a Bobby Charlton, accept it with some grace!
Go and shave your head... And put a smile upon your face
The tune that made the most impact on me today though was this one from Jenner Fox, who is American (so please excuse his use of the word "soccer"), but still tells an emotive tale about a young British football fan who grows up to coach an American soccer team. Bobby gets a mention, alongside a number of other footballing greats, but the reason this song resonated with me is that the young lad's dad was clearly not a football fan, and that's something he remembers from his youth.
Love is an emotion we primarily link to our hearts,
perhaps because our heart beats faster when we see the person we love. Except
it’s only doing that because that’s what our brain told it to do.
Part of the whole attraction process is strongly linked
to physiological arousal as a whole. Typically, that's going to start with
things like increased heart rate, sweatiness and so on.
Simply thinking about the object of your affections is
enough to trigger dopamine release, making you feel excited and eager to do
whatever it takes to see them.
Then, when you actually do see them, your brain “rewards”
you with more dopamine, which you experience as intense pleasure.
I could go on, but putting aside adolescent hormones and teenage
notions such “being in love with love”, or as Donny put it…
…I think it’s fair to say I was getting a fair few
dopamine hits whenever I saw this girl, spent time with her, or thought about her.
Doesn’t sound quite so romantic, that, does it?
2. Was she actually called Maddie? Well, her name was
Madeline, and that was how she referred to herself. I never heard anyone else
call her Maddie, but I did on occasion. Did I do this as a sign of affection?
Clearly. Was it actually what she wanted? I’m not sure.
The reason I called her Maddie (and possibly one of the
reasons I was so “in love” with her) is because I was obsessed with the TV show
Moonlighting at the time, and its main characters were David (Bruce
Willis) Addison and Maddie (Cybill Shepherd) Hayes. I didn’t particularly fancy
Cybill Shepherd, and “my” Maddie looked nothing like her, but David and Maddie
had a whole “will they / won’t they” thing going on, and in my head I was
confusing fantasy with reality, as teenagers are wont to do. The other thing
that happened in Moonlighting was that David Addison occasionally broke the
fourth wall, and seemed at times to be aware that he was a character in a TV
show. This notion appealed to me greatly, and together with my mate Richard, we
regularly talked about our own lives as though they
were episodes of a TV show. Actually, this was an idea I’d been working on
throughout my childhood – in my head, I had my own TV station (one that
switched over to being just a radio station when I went to bed… it was
complicated). This might seem like irrelevant information, but you’ll need to
know it later. There will be a quiz.
3. Clearly Maddie did know I existed since we had regular
conversations, mostly on the long bus journeyhome where we would often sit together – well,
not together on the same seat, but usually on adjacent seats. And when we got
off the bus, those conversations would often continue while I walked her home –
well, we were going in the same direction, and I carried on up the hill after
she’d crossed the road to go into her own house. Were both of these situations led
by me? I mean, did she ever choose to sit by me or was she always on the bus
when I got on with empty seats in her vicinity? Was I merely preferable to some
of the other losers and malcontents on that bus? Did she secretly want to walk
up that hill on her own but she was just being polite when I tagged along?
Looking back, I might think that. I certainly
manufactured situations in which we could bump into each other or be in the
same place together, but that’s what you do at that age, isn’t it? The whole
thing’s a minefield, and I’m glad I don’t have to deal with it any more. In my
defence, I will offer the rainy lunchtimes we spent together in the music
block, practicing our instruments. (Not a euphemism.) She played piano better
than me, and some other kind of wind instrument (clarinet?) while I had my
tenor horn and we would, on occasion, hang out in one of the practice rooms, mucking
about with music, but mostly just chatting and having a laugh.
(I should perhaps at this point reveal that, about a year
or so later, my friend Simon got so sick of me going
on about Maddie that he went to ask her if she’d like to go out with me.
Because clearly I was never going to do such a thing myself. I was great at dropping
hints, but no way was I going to approach her directly. So anyway, Simon
asked her out for me… and what ensued? Only one of those awful, embarrassing
(for everyone) sitcom scenarios in which Maddie actually thought that Simon was
asking her out for himself (rather than me), excitedly accepting, only to then…
well, you can guess the rest.)
In my previous Self-Help For Cynics Post, I wrote about
the Storytelling Brain. How the brain uses stories to create neural pathways
which teach us how to deal with things that happen to us in our lives. This appears
to be a wonderful thing… until it goes wrong. And when it does go wrong, those
same neural pathways end up reinforcing negative opinions, beliefs or ideas
based on responses to negative experiences. Dr. Faith explains, in her own
inimitable style…
But clearly the storytelling brain has the capacity to be
a serious fucking problem too. We start telling ourselves (and believing)
certain stories about ourselves and the world around us. Our brains are wired
to crave certainty. We WANT to see patterns in what happens to us so we can
make better decisions about the world and how we are supposed to keep ourselves
safe in it.
The emotional brain makes a decision for us and the
thinking brain has to scramble to come up with a reason why.
Which brings me back to the will-they / won’t-they romance
in my 16 year old brain.
It was the end of term. Or, in the TV station of my head,
it was the last episode of the series. Everything was building up to a climax,
because that’s what happens at the end of a series. On our final journey home
together before the holidays, I got up the courage to clumsily drop the biggest
hint so far to Maddie that I was interested in being a little more than
friends. The ironic thing is, I have very little memory of what I actually
said, I only recall that it went as well as it could have done (no outright
rejection, anyway… then again, clearly she didn’t swoon into my arms either)
and that I was left with a distinct feeling that when I saw her again… maybe…
we’d be ready to move up to the next level. Like, I dunno, actually sitting
together on the same seat or something.
As a result, I walked home that night in a state of
euphoria. Which is all in the brain, again! Healthline
explains…
That giddy, euphoric
excitement you feel when spending time with the person you love (or seeing them
across the room, or hearing their name)? You can trace this entirely normal
effect of falling in love back to the neurotransmitter dopamine.
Ah, that pesky dopamine again. I’m surprised it took me so long to get to
that little critter. Harvard
Health goes into more detail…
Dopamine is most notably
involved in helping us feel pleasure as part of the brain’s reward system. Sex,
shopping, smelling cookies baking in the oven — all these things can trigger
dopamine release, or a "dopamine rush."
This feel-good
neurotransmitter is also involved in reinforcement. That’s why, once we try one
of those cookies, we might come back for another one (or two, or three).
Hopped up on dopamine following my seemingly successful
hint drop, I was keen to share this with my friend Richard, who understood the
language of 4th wall breaking imaginary TV shows better than any of
my other contemporaries.
A little bit about Richard, before I go on. We’d been
mates for about three or four years by this point, and along with my other mate
Simon, who I’d known since junior school, we’d formed a pretty tight little
group. Best friends? I’m not sure I’ve ever had a best friend, but the three of
us were as close as we could be without ever using that terminology. Although
Simon and I had the longer friendship, and many shared interests, Rich and I
had bonded over a love of music. That began with Queen (particularly A Kind Of
Magic, which was out around then) and classic Motown. Although lately, his
tastes had been changing. He’d become obsessed with the Smiths (who, at the
time, I hated) and the Pet Shop Boys, a band I liked (bought quite a few of
their singles) but clearly didn’t connect with on the same level that he did. I
liked Neil Tennant’s arch lyrics, while Rich liked the beats. It was the
mid-late 80s, and although I didn’t realise it at the time, I was losing him to
dance music.
I don't like country-and-western I don't like rock music I don't like, I don't like rockabilly or rock 'n' roll particularly Don't like much really, do I? But what I do like I love passionately
On that fateful evening then, I gave him a call to update
him on the end-of-season cliff-hanger involving Maddie… but when he answered
the phone, something was off. There was music playing in the background, and
Rich seemed distracted. As I poured my euphoric heart out, it quickly became
apparent that Rich was only half listening to me, that someone else was there,
and that they were taking up more of his attention. And after a few minutes I
realised that whoever it was, was laughing at me. Laughing at the private
conversation I was having with my friend, at my pathetic attempts at romance,
and that Rich was laughing too.
You call me on the phone, you left me all alone All I get from you is shellshock Another day goes by and all I do is cry All I get from you is shellshock
I stopped and asked Rich what was going on. Who was there
with him? And that’s when he told me.
It was Swanny.
All you need to know about Swanny is that he lived a few
doors down from Rich and that he was a complete and utter arsehole. A couple of
years prior, he’d indulged (along with a few other kids) in some minor league
bullying, of which I was one of his semi-regular marks. And as far as I was
concerned, the scars were still fresh.
“What are you doing?” I asked Rich, meaning, “Why are you
laughing at me? Why aren’t you being the friend and confidant I’ve come to
expect and rely on? Why are you pissing all over my euphoria… with fucking
Swanny!?!”
“Nothing,” said Rich. “We’re just listening to the new
New Order record.”
I hung up the phone and didn’t speak to Rich again for
the next nine months. Eventually Simon managed to get us talking again, and we
made up… in a way. But it was never the same.
When I was a very small boy Very small boys talked to me Now that we've grown up together They're afraid of what they see
Thirty-five years later, I still can’t listen to New
Order. This is something which sets me at odds with large sections of the music
blogging community who worship the ground Bernard and Peter (and whatever the
rest of them are called) make beats on. And it’s all down to my story-telling
brain, which has inextricably linked the anger, embarrassment and shame I felt
that evening in 1988 to New Order’s Technique. Neural pathways have been
created which mean that whenever I hear New Order on the radio, or see another
post pop up about them on one of my favourite blogs, I’m taken back to that
night and all those unpleasant feelings.
"Unpleasant feelings" though... as adolescent trauma goes, I will admit that this is pretty mild. However, the same principle applies to much deeper wounds, in theory.
Since I was born I started to decay Now nothing ever, ever goes my way
Dr. Faith would no doubt tell me that this can be fixed.
That if I started listening to more New Order, thereby allowing my brain to
create new neural pathways which could over-ride the old ones, that would
eventually lead to positive associations and responses, and my opinion of the
band might change. It is possible to re-wire your brain in this way… after all,
as I mentioned earlier, I used to hate The Smiths, and then in my 20s, various
things happened which allowed me to hear them in a new light. If I put enough
energy and effort into it then, perhaps I could make myself like New Order.
Are there any bands you hate because your brain has
linked their music to painful memories?
I would like a place I could call my own Have a conversation on the telephone Wake up every day that would be a start I would not complain of my wounded heart
Post script...
A weird thing happened while compiling this post. I actually sat and listened to the New Order songs above, and I didn't hate them as much as I thought I did.
Now you can call this wishful thinking or a self-fulfilling prophecy, or me just trying to make a point. Wanting to believe in something, then making it so. Theodor Herzl: "If you will it, it is no dream." Surely it can't be as easy as that...?
The Beta 58s welcome us to the latest number on our countdown... proof that punk isn't dead, but it hasn't grown any more braincells.
Straight on to your suggestions for this week...
C started the ball rolling, bringing back a band from last week...
You had Blondie for 59 - you can have them again for 58 with I'm On E:
I gave my car to a guy named Vinnie I feel like gassin' my feet They've totalled your bill and you skipped a beat I used to have a car of my own Twenty eight or fifty eight
That was the b-side of Denis, in case anybody was wondering. Wonder if it'll return in 30 weeks time?
Rigid Digit was on fire this week with 4 top suggestions...
And yes, you would be right. It's not acceptable. For all the reasons. Your second offering wasn't much better, although you did note that it was "a bit heavy on the guitar solo noodling side".
I'd still rather listen to that than New Order though. I will horrify many of you by saying I'd rather listen to If You Leave Me Now than New Order too. I'm sorry. Old scars run deep.
And while I'm in the business of horrifying you all... and comparing Mancunian icons with cheesy American rockers, here's two suggestions my music library threw up this week...
Out of the frying pan And into the fire 58th variety Out of the frying pan And into the fire Mother had her son for tea
Yeah, there was a bit of sarcasm there, the idea that Siouxsie could restore sanity to anything.
The Swede was late this week, claiming "C got there before me" (not sure if that was Blondie or Siouxsie) "so all I can offer is Ronsard '58 by Serge Gainsbourg." That is actually in my record collection, though I'm worried I'll have to have it deported after Brexit.
All of which brings us to this week's winner, which was firsted by Rigid Digit and seconded by South West Correspondent. I have to admit, I haven't listened to The Bends in ages, so I'd forgotten how good this track was... it has a great opening line too! ("I get home from work and you're still standing in your dressing gown".)
The troubled words of a troubled mind
I try to understand what is eating you,
I try to stay awake but its 58 hours since I last slept with you
Next week is an easy win for me. I know exactly who the winning artist will be. Less easy to decide which song though...
Your suggestions, as always, will be gratefully received...
Album cover above by The 63 Crayons, a band I know nothing about, but they have a cool name. Google them if you have time, I've got just 15 minutes to write this post before my next class...
Cut & paste with your suggestions this week because of the above-mentioned time constraints. Thanks for all your contributions.
The Swede kicks us off (as is often the case) "Tanglewood 63 by Michael Gibbs springs immediately to mind, a tune quickly covered in a Jazz-Rock vein by Colosseum and several more times since."
Nice.
A lyrical offering from Charity Chic next... which could very well have been this week's winner, because it's an awesome tune...
In Winter 1963 It felt like like the world would freeze With John F Kennedy and the Beatles
Lynchie & Swiss Adam both went for New Order - 1963. Now, time prevents me from telling the full story, but suffice it to say there a deep scars from my teenage years involving New Order - I basically feel out and didn't speak to one of my best friends for 6 months, and New Order were indirectly responsible for that. They remain one of the two big 80s bands that I have never been able to find a moment's time for (the other being U2). I know the high esteem that many of my blogging peers hold them in... but they're highly unlikely to ever feature here until I can afford therapy.
Martin, extremely helpfully, even provided links with his suggestions this week... let's see how well they survive the Copy & Paste...
"Here is the street and here is the door Same as it was before And up the stairs and on the wall Is, Kiss and Terry Hall And Siouxsie Sioux and Edwin too And Bobby Dee in '63."
But it's Walter who takes this week's prize - as seconded by CC. Alyson even adds that "I seem to remember it was the soundtrack to my first kiss down the local youth club!" Which makes it a double-winner, surely? We can't beat this...
Anyway, got to go now, there's a queue of students outside the room, waiting to be educated...
