Jesus’ Hands

Every August the city I have come to call home witnesses a transformation.  The Festival brings throngs of tourists who congest the pavements and slow the locals down as they try to get from A to B whilst muttering sounds of discontent at the inconvenience.  What do Edinburgh’s residents make of those who pack out the various events on offer?  What do they make of us, our great city and our culture?  What are they looking for as they roam our streets?  Do they find it?

The Festival brings a great buzz with it.  Back in 2003 we took a week off work to simply be tourists on our own streets.  It was great – to slow down, to savour the sights, sounds, smells and tastes…

The Festival is floods our city with streams of creativity because it brings so many people who are seeking to express something or make a connection whether through stand up comedy, theatre, music, performance or literature.  To create something and to share that with an audience is to embark upon an inherently risky venture.  It reveals vulnerability, but, just maybe it will resonate and create a moment of definition.

Today I strolled along to The National Portrait Gallery on Queen Street to see a free exhibition of Scottish artists called Rough Cut Nation.  Amidst the street art, graffiti, scribbles and paintings, a face looked out at me from a wall – huge, unassuming in it’s hooded top and, yet, strangely familiar.  A bunch of adjectives framed the upper border and a selection of ordinary and extraordinary faces and images peered through the streaks of running paint that bled down the walls. 

 

The figure had huge hands stretched out which were punctured, enabling me to peer right through to the life and movement and bustle and flow of people in the adjoining installations. 

The photo’s snapped on my Blackberry don’t do it justice, so I’d recommend that if you’re in Edinburgh that you take the chance to get along between now and the 30th of August. 

The image reminded me of lyrics penned by one of my favourite singer songwriters.  The last time I saw the original line up of American Music Club play in a sweaty King Tuts in Glasgow, they finished the set with this song.  Mark Eitzel was lost in the music and delivery, rolling his head around, eyes shut, letting the distance he was creating between his vocal chords and the mic add to the intensity and earnestness of this hopeless song…

“Looking for love in all the wrong places -
The sidewalks and the sky.
Looking for something that no one can give me
And no one can help me buy.

Oh brother, oh sister.
Don’t you see a crack form in the dam?
For a loser, no one can touch him,
He’s out slipping through Jesus’ hands”.

From “Jesus’ Hands” by American Music Club.
 

The Bells

“Dad, I broke my promise to you,
if you’re wondering where I’ve been.
I thought I knew what I was doing,
But I was wrong again.
I understand, Son.
I understand, Son.
I understand”.

From “The Bells” by Pedro The Lion.

My good friend, Andrew, from calamateur tweeted about this refreshingly insightful and honest interview with the wonderful David Bazan that appeared recently in Paste magazine. 

It’s rare for an artist to wrestle so publicly with his inconsistencies, doubts and hopes.  It’s rarer still for a journalist to keep pressing the nub of an issue which has inspired their art when the issue at heart is so personal and not one that shifts magazine sales by and large…go read this link.

Fireworks

“Welcome into my sweet confusion
And tell me stories of strength in your life.
I am weak,
Yet you claim I am searching.
Quite what for I have yet to work out.”

From “Fireworks” by Aereogramme.

I spent a pleasant, car free, day ambling in the city I have come to call home.  On my strolling I clocked the above sticker on a  lamp-post.  It caught my attention.  Simple - a pearl of wisdom and a webpage address where more life lessons can be found.

Sometimes we just need to hear truth or to receive direction or insrtruction in a new way – in a language we can understand.

Unknown Caller.

“Restart and reboot yourself .
You’re free to go.
Ho, ho.
Shout for joy if you get the chance.
Password, you, enter here, right now.

Ho, ho.
You know your name, so punch it in.
Hear me, cease to speak that I may speak.
Shush now.
Ho, ho.
Then don’t move or say a thing”.

From “Unknown Caller” by U2.

There can’t be much of a bigger contrast between the last two gigs I have seen and, yet, both were brilliant.  Prior to last night, the most recent gig I had been to was Neil Halstead at Captain’s rest in Glasgow.  It was one of those particularly intimate gigs as Neil strummed an acoustic guitar and played his brilliant, stripped back, ballads to a basement full of about 20 people all attentive to his every mumble.

I’ve been to literally hundreds of gigs over the years – a majority of them with my long serving gig-going bro’.  Much as we love live music, I don’t often get all that excited before hand. In fact, the Neil Halstead gig mentioned earlier was one of those few recent gigs where I have genuinely been excited.

In stark contrast we were in a crowd of 59,000 who packed out Hampden last night to witness the latest U2 extravaganza.  Whilst any indie loving tike such as I ought to be referencing bands like The XX or some other noteworthy young upstarts, the truth is U2’s catalogue has been a constant presence in most of my coming of age and growing up. 

Whilst many music critics have been quick to liken this phase of U2’s career to the time of the “Pop” album – a period where their latest release has failed to generate the level of record sales usually associated with the biggest band in the world, last night’s set included recitals from the “War”, “Unforgettable Fire”, “Joshua Tree”, “Achtung Baby”, “All You Can’t Leave Behind”, “How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb” and “No Line On The Horizon” eras.  Songs transport me to places, remind me of faces and incidents.

The stage structure was phenomenal.  We were about 4 or 5 metres from the walkway surrounding the stage with a perfect view of Edge and the rest of the group. The 360 degree screens gave a brilliant view of the evening’s proceedings.  It was a far cry from having been at the SECC in 1987 at the Joshua Tree tour, before contact lenses, when I barely saw a thing as we were so far from the stage stuck behind a huge abyss of vacant floor space which surrounded the sound desk. 

Last night may have been less spiritual than being feet from the band at the 2001 Elevation Tour in Manchester when the music came back to life after a decade of relying on huge information overload through the likes of Zoo TV and the lemon.  It was a far better experience than Hampden in 2005.

The set opened with “Breathe” and the tracks from the new album actually stood up well live, although finishing with “Moment Of Surrender” seemed a bit of a strange choice.  The stand out track for me from the new material was “Unknown Caller.”  The crowd really seemed to come alive for “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”, “Vertigo”, “One” and “With Or Without You”.  “Sunday Bloody Sunday” was still used to relevant political effect to highlight the plight in Tehran.  Sadly, the sound system seemed to die during “Walk On” which was being used to raise awareness of the life and present situation affecting Aung San Suu Kyi – rumours that the Burmese had something to do with sabotaging the sound-desk last night are yet to be confirmed.  Desmond Tutu’s address was riveting.  After all these years, the band are still trying to use their position to expose situations and to try to galvanise change.  Many call it naive, but would I have ever joined the likes of Amnesty or Greenpeace had I not devoured the liner notes of the Joshua Tree 22 years ago?

It may not be cool to like U2, but I can’t ever imagine not turning out for one of their tours and I can’t imagine not being affected by it.

Prisoner

“I am not a prisoner.
I’m not a prisoner, but I’m in prison.”
From “Prisoner” by Low.

The plight of Burmese Pro-Democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi is well documented.  Please take a couple of minutes to check this link.

Peace.

Harry Patch (In Memory Of)

Records spin in revolutions and have soundtracked them.  Music has the power to affect our emotions.  Words have the power to connect with us and change our world-view.  Songs can mark occasions or point in time.

It gladens my heart that there are artists out there wrestling with the reality of their own experience of the human condition – trying to find their way through this maze of life.  People who write honest music that is often raw, emotional and stripped of the gloss of much over-produced, glossy and empty pop music. People who don’t take their position lightly.

I received the following email this week.

“Harry Patch (In Memory Of)

‘i am the only one that got through
the others died where ever they fell
it was an ambush
they came up from all sides
give your leaders each a gun and then let them fight it out themselves
i’ve seen devils coming up from the ground
i’ve seen hell upon this earth
the next will be chemical but they will never learn’http://download.waste.uk.com to download the song

Recently the last remaining UK veteran of the 1st world war Harry Patch died at the age of 111.
I had heard a very emotional interview with him a few years ago on the Today program on Radio4.
The way he talked about war had a profound effect on me.
It became the inspiration for a song that we happened to record a few weeks before his death.
It was done live in an abbey. The strings were arranged by Jonny.
I very much hope the song does justice to his memory as the last survivor.

It would be very easy for our generation to forget the true horror of war, without the likes of Harry to remind us.
I hope we do not forget.

As Harry himself said
“Irrespective of the uniforms we wore, we were all victims”.

Recently the Today program played the song for the first time and now it is available to download from our website.

Please go to

The proceeds of this song will go to the British Legion.

To peace and understanding.

Thom.”

Japanese To English

Is it just me or do certain phrases in conversation lead us to make connections with songs?

Someone was describing a difficult situation to me this week.  During our conversation they said the relationship they were describing was like two people conversing where one is English and one is Japanese.  I think the gist of what they were trying to convey to me was that the individuals in the relationship could talk in the same language, but one of them was not speaking in their native tongue.  The phrase made me think of a song instantly.  I turned to the lyrics after our conversation and it made a lot of sense…

“I went as far as losing sleep.
I went as far as messing up my life.
Unloving still strikes me different.
A million miles away from home
And fifteen from a payphone.

Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.

You’re ten years older.
We translate Japanese to English
And English to Japanese.

It’s not that simple.
This dictionary
Never has a word
For the way I’m feeling.
And it’s not that plain for me
Of a different God and moral.
What if I
Laid my head down on your stomach?
Or put my mouth to your hand?
I cannot translate
Japanese to English
Or English to Japanese.

What I had to say is unsaid.
What I had to do is undone.
And if it was done,
I’m sure it would have killed our hour
In the sun.

Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Above the water, the awful grey.
Our current from Japan
Didn’t sweep away.”

From “Japanese To English” by Red House Painters.

Metamorphis

“Hello friend, it’s been some time,
Since I’ve sat at your table and drank your wine.
Worldly lies, empty skies,
But only you can satisfy

Can I be somebody? Not what they want me to be?
Just a pale reflection of what you want me to be”.

From “Metamorphis” by Delirious?

Who would attend your ideal dinner party?  Who would provide interesting conversation as the aroma of strong coffee scented the room, as wine was drained to top up people’s glasses, as individuals dabbed their dampened fingers on their plates savouring every last crumb of food and as the wee small hours beckoned?  Whose stories would you want to gather in close around the table to hear unfold?  Whose pearls of wisdom would you relish to hear?  Whose jokes or stories would leave you laughing so hard that your sides ached as you gasped for breath and were left defenceless against as tears gathered in your moist eyes?

Eight of us gathered around our table one evening this week.  Feasting on a simple selection of nice breads, red wine and grape juice, great cheeses, light salad and meat.  There was something more than symbolic in the food we shared – the breaking of bread, the pouring of wine.  There was a recognition of provision, of daily bread.  Here was plenty with no need to be gluttonous.  There was a thankfulness not just for food, but for friendships which have developed, for community, for journeying together.  There was discussion of how the future might look and how we could encourage, affirm and support one another in that.  There was little that was superficial.  There was much that was real.

I got to thinking about all the other folks who come through our door, sit around our table or chat on the phone or via email or texts.  So many people whom I know life would be all the less rich for not knowing.  All the individuals who may look like their lives are attractive, who have loads to be thankful for, but whom all have their own battles to face:  hospitalised parents; broken family communication; a loss of confidence in the very institution they have committed their life’s study and work to; financial issues; miscarriages; prisons both metaphorically and physically; relationship issues; fear of facing an uncertain future alone; a realisation that life hasn’t played out the way they might have dreamed of when they were younger; struggles with sexuality; mental illness; sleep deprivation; pressure of employer expectation, to name but a few.

Life is complicated.  We’re not meant to face it alone.  I think we were made for relationship.  That doesn’t just mean boyfriends or girlfriends or life partners, but real and lasting friendships.  Accountability, encouragement, affirmation and mutual support.  I think it means community.  I think that for me church is not a place I go on Sundays (grateful as I am for that place and the leadership there) but the wider group I belong to – scattered throughout the country, facing different situations and periodically sat in one another’s company regaling tales, sharing food, listening intently and knowing we will walk back into our ordinary lives carrying those others with us in our hearts, minds and very spirits.

Coffee & TV

“So give me coffee and TV.”

From “Coffee & TV” by Blur.

It’s been such a balmy week.  I think we all feel tired, dehydrated and lethargic.  It was perfect then to bookend the week by having a night in: our daughter sleeping soundly; atmospheric lighting on – the two of us just sat supping wine and coffee, munching on the recently re-released sweets of my childhood (Treets) and enjoying one of my favourite films, “Chocolat”, which I haven’t watched in years. 

There was much to be thankful for.  Our little family unit, a happy marriage, friends absent.

Sleep beckoned after staying up far too late soaking up the wonderfully retold tales of a group of friends surf trip to northern Scotland – to Caithness and the Orkneys.  The fickle nature of the wind and sea, the descriptions of the scenery and the elements,  the antics and pranks, the desire to actually sense the cold whilst clambering in and out of wetsuits, the warmth of welcome from the locals, the stories from the pub, the history of the characters within these remote communities, the adrenaline of the rush, the one-ness of being in the vastness of the ocean.  I am loving this book “Riding The Magic Carpet:  A Surfer’s Odyssey To Find The Perfect Wave” by Tom Anderson right now.

P.S. Did you hear about the man who ate a peanut?  It came out a Treet.

Flies And Blue Skies P.S You Rock My World.

Today started strangely.  I took the car to work as I was chairing a meeting first thing.  As I was about to turn into the street our office is on I discovered a policeman stood in the middle of the road directing the traffic not to turn from the main arterial route.  After a dodgy U-turn and an alternative route, I got parked and walked the short distance to the office only to discover half of our street cordoned off.  There was police incident tape, a heavy police presence and various people in plain clothes conversing intently as a forensic officer in white boiler suit, face mask, gloves and shoe covers sealed off the area in front of a building diagonally opposite our office.  It provoked a strange sense of knowing something was seriously wrong combined with intrigue in wanting to know what had happened.

As the day drew on, various people in our office would make periodic trips to the windows to see if they could decipher what was unfolding below us.  Emotions ranged from people adopting dodgy Scottish accents and impersonating Taggart by saying, “there’s been a  murrrrrder” to a general nosiness or a desire to gossip about what the latest word on the street quite literally was.

As I type these words before going to bed, all I know is that the press have disclosed that a man’s body was discovered face down outside the basement level of the building diagonally opposite our office.  Not  a man – but just “a man’s body”.  Death changes everything.

My mind has been caught up in it all at various points throughout the day, but I came to think that I don’t need to know the details.  Ultimately my only connection is proximity to the place where the body was found.  He could have been in an accident, he could have been attacked, he could have simply collapsed, he could have been sleeping rough…all of the detail will emerge in the coming hours I suspect.  More than any of that I got to thinking that whoever he was, he must have been somebody’s someone – a son, a friend.  There was probably a time he played in the park, laughed at a joke, shared a drink with somebody special.  It removed a degree of that blanket of invincibility we tend to wear.

As I get ready to sleep, there are a couple of songs playing in the jukebox of my mind.  Lines which are simple, yet, profound…

“There is life.

There is death.

And the difference between either one

is one single breath”.

From “Flies And Blue Skies” by King’s X.

And…

“Laying in bed tonight I was thinking
and listening to all the dogs
and the sirens and the shots
and how the careful man tries to dodge the bullets
while a happy man takes a walk
and maybe it is time to live”

From “P.S. You Rock My World” by Eels.