Let’s Kill Culture
Simon Cowell won’t find everything for you, you know?
It’s a sad day but one which I’ve thought was in the post for a while. The radio show that I contribute to with my Film Club is being axed. In fact, it has been already, we’re not even getting an opportunity for a swansong. It is the latest in a systematic diluting of everything that was good about the radio station I was involved with, Original 106FM. Over the last few months, the best DJs have left, the playlist has become more mainstream and bit by bit the little touches that made the station different have gone. As one of the DJs said to me a few months back, “This place should be done under the Trades Description Act. It is not Original. It is the same as all the other guff out there”.
But standing as a beacon of originality despite the station’s otherwise slide into mediocrity, was Andrew Learmonth’s Sunday Showcase. Playing new music, classic music and having live sessions and interviews from bands, singers, authors, actors, comedians, critics and a whole host of people with something to say about a broad spectrum of cultural happenings, it stood out from the mid-Atlantic sounding blandness that is local radio in my area. for four hours every week, the station was what it claimed to be; original.
It became a regular stop for touring bands, like Glasvegas to Oasis, both of whom gave interviews recently, as well as local bands who would have found it hard to get a look in any of the mainstream media.
People like the popular. Course they do. But how do things become popular? U2 were once a group of wee guys looking for a break playing pubs in Dublin they couldn’t afford (or weren’t the legal age) to drink in. Stephen King was once a struggling author writing in his spare time and trying to get a short story published in between day jobs. Duffy, as all the blurb said after her winning the Brits, was singing to elderly audiences in Old Folks’ homes this time last year trying to keep her dream alive. Kate Winslet was a wee lassie working in a delicatessen waiting for the phone to ring and tell her she’d got a part. Somebody took a chance on all these people and gave them exposure.
These days…especially these days, no one wants to take a gamble. Better to invest in the next book by Patricia Cornwell over the maverick new writer who has no credentials but a great first book. Far better to have radio stations playing exclusively artists that everyone can name and recognise instantly over the fresh new sound from a band that might just be the next big thing, with a little luck on their part, and a little faith and risk taking on someone else’s.
Popular culture needs the Sunday Showcases, the Friday Projects, the John Peels, the Rough Trades, and all the other ventures that celebrated the new, the exciting, the risky, the not yet popular. Without them popular culture dies.
So here’s to the raw, the undiscovered, the maverick, the exciting, the risky, the next big thing. You won’t find it here, though. Not in my neck of the woods.
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Every Time A Bell Rings, An Angel Gets Its Wings
Now, I don’t know how many readers I’ve actually got, because, well you can never really know. Yet, I think I can safely say there’s more than a couple of you out there, so this might work. I am doing a radio show on Sunday December 21st hosted by fellow blogger, DJ, comedian and all round good egg, Andrew Learmonth on our station Original 106FM. As you may know, I am the film critic on the station and we are proposing to do a Christmas Movie Special. This is where you come in. I want to know what you think are the best Christmas films of all time. What are your favourites and why. This, I need to know. I will use this info to come up with my top ten, or to decide which films to include in our hour long film chat. Now, we’ve got the topic established, I am now going to be completely dictatorial and demand that everyone who reads this post comments with their suggestion in the comments box. Even if someone has already mentioned your favourite, still tell me. Popularity is as important as originality. When I say “everyone”, I mean these people: 1. My usual commenters (“God Bless you! Everyone!”) 14. The abusive commenter who called me “a prick” two months ago.
So go on: fave Christmas movie. To the comments box with you. It’s easy; click on the word comments under this post,and if you don’t have an Blogger account, it doesn’t matter- just go anonymous if you’re shy, or type in your name into the Name/URL option, and comment away with all your might. Tell me your opinion and then I’ll post a link to the podcast that your choice may feature in, so you can hear the results. Or excitement of excitements, you can listen live!!!!
2. People who’ve been too shy to comment up to now, but are desperate to.
3. My friends who read this blog, but never comment because they usually comment to my face.
4. My relatives who read the blog regularly but never comment.
5. My relatives who read the blog just to check they are not being slagged off.
6. New readers.
7. Returning readers.
8. The legions of editors, publishers and literary agents who are stalking me with a view to offering me lucrative deals.
9. Actual stalkers.
10. Folk who’ve turned up thinking I’m the porn mistress Missy M, and are buckling back up.
11. Folk just here to pinch that naked drunk guy photo from the last post.
12. Folk who used to comment or read, but think I’ve lost it, so don’t bother much anymore.
13. Spammers on a break.
Little Green Bag: A Certainty
In a bizarre turn of events the Flying Martinis are somewhat taking over the airwaves on Sunday 27th of January.
If one were to perhaps tune into the Sunday Showcase on Original106FM at around 5pm-9pm this Sunday, one may just discover the loveliness of the singing voice that belongs my noble consort, Meeester, and his fabulous band of talented monkeys, The Lorelei.
The band are playing live on the Showcase hosted by Andrew Learmonth, whose Sunday Session has been a weekly treat in the new radio station line-up so far.
Testament to Andrew’s taste goes even further, when he, in addition to picking the Lorelei to play live, then has me, Misssy of the Misssives, on to kick start the new year’s Cult Movie Soundtrack event (can you tell we still haven’t thought of a name?…Suggestions appreciated) which is to be happening on a month to month basis, monthly, every month.
Each month we’ll be showcasing a movie or collection of movies that have been notable mainly for their fabulous soundtracks.This week/month, Andrew and I will be discussing the movies of Quentin Tarantino and the role that music plays within them. Lots of chat and lots of handpicked gems from the Tarantino flicks’ back catalogue will abound.
It goes without saying that I will be dressed as Uma Thurman in a yellow ass kicking tracksuit and Andrew has promised to slick his hair back and don some Raybans in a Vincent Vega stylee.
I’m also still on every week on The Evelyn Brown Saturday show at 9am til 10am for Martin at the Movies. And will be until they find me out.
Hello Nation!
Barry Norman: Blessed be the Onion Picklers
This Saturday I am to be heard on the radio. I am ridiculously excited.
My good friend Evelyn is an actual bona fide professional radio DJ and she seems to think that I should be her regular film reviewer on her Saturday morning show. And who am I to argue? Biggest loves: films and talking about films. I am flattered and delighted.
I thought about maybe not mentioning it on the Misssives until I’ve done the first show in case I develop Tourettes midway through and make a pig’s ear of the whole thing (I won’t, Ev, I promise I won’t!). But I’m too excited and have to tell everyone.
I don’t want to big myself up too much, pride coming before a fall and all that jazz, but I reckon I’m far more sincere than Jonathan Ross and I know I have better film taste than him. And after his disgraceful cheek in the presence of the wonderful Terry Wogan on his TV show a couple of weeks ago, I’ve pretty much turned against him. No one suggests that Sir Terry is an onanist; least of all Ross! Outrageous insolence! I shouted at the telly quite fiercely. Give “Film 2007″ to Kermode and be done with it, please BBC.
I was also taken aback last week when I saw that the former mainstay of British TV film reviewing, Barry Norman, has brought out a range of condiments. I kid you not; he has his own brand of pickled onions. “And why not?” as the great man was so fond of saying. They are in Tesco; go and have a look if you don’t Adam and believe it.
I’m taking the whole pickle discovery as a good omen. Don’t ask me why, I just am. It’s as if Barry sent me a good luck message via the supermarket. Cheers Captain. Nice to know you haven’t pegged it since you retired from the box.
Evelyn’s show is broadcast on Original 106FM. I think I’m on around 9am GMT on Saturdays. I suppose I should find out exactly when, really…
This week I am reviewing “Elizabeth: The Golden Age” with the wonderful Cate Blanchett, and I will be choosing a rental DVD of the week. Ev’s given me a generous 10 minute slot and hopefully she won’t have to cosh me after twenty to get me to stop.
