Love Note – The joys of rediscovering an old iPod

I have always had a soft spot for the humble iPod.[1] Whilst the iPod Touch is still available to buy, the Mini, Nano, Classic and Shuffle iPods, with their click wheels and metallic casings, have achieved almost vintage status, surpassed as they have been by iPhones and Internet streaming services. With its terrible battery life and matchbox data capacity, my well-loved and well-used purple iPod Nano, the best of companions on so many bus journeys, car sing-a-longs and bedroom dance parties, has been lying dormant in the bottom of my bedside table for months, if not years. I dug it out for a Christmas cooking session with my Dad and what a treat it was.

The delightful thing about this little iPod Nano, that I now rarely use, is that it has become something of a time capsule for my teens and early twenties. My tastes have never been the most refined, but the funny eclectic mixture that came up on my shuffle transported me back to all sorts of places in the past. Althea and Donna’s ‘Uptown Top Ranking’ took me to the dark and comforting noisy chaos of a bar called Big Hands, where a friend’s Shazam brought the answer to my demand ‘WHAT IS THIS SONG?!?!?’ (this happens a lot when I’m out and about and hear a song I like); when ‘Don’t Get Lost in Heaven’ from Gorillaz’s Demon Days came on, I found myself back on my childhood bedroom floor, crying and shaking in a panic before my A Level English Literature exam; ‘Remember the Time’ by Michael Jackson took me to both sunny family holidays in Mallorca and the packed 143 bus down Oxford Road in Manchester, where I created ‘MJ Mondays’ to perk myself up; ‘Am I High?’ by N.E.R.D came on, one of my favourite songs from one of the most underrated groups ever; I was taken back to 2007 and the best gig of my life with one of the greatest dance tracks of all time, ‘Insomnia’ by Faithless; ‘Out of Frequency’ by The Asteroids Galaxy Tour and ‘Lonely Boy’ by The Black Keys got me through my first breakup; Beach Season became part of the soundtrack to what has become the greatest relationship of my life; and, of course, the men and women who carried me through all the rest of it: Christina Aguilera, Bjork, Gwen Stefani, Lykke Li, Madonna’s Ray of Light and Confessions on a Dancefloor eras, Rihanna’s Good Girl Gone Bad and Anti eras, Destiny’s Child, Duffy, Lana Del Rey, Agnes Obel, Mis-Teeq, Kate Nash, Florence and the Machine, Azealia Banks, Jimi Hendrix, Justin Timberlake, Kendrick Lamar, Frank Ocean, Jeff Buckley, Kasabian, James Vincent McMorrow, Jake Bugg, Nirvana, Father John Misty and, of course, Geri Halliwell’s solo oeuvre.

It is well-known that music has an extraordinary ability to take us back in time to some of the most profound moments of our lives: the continued success of long-running shows like Desert Island Discs are a testament to that. In many ways, listening to my old iPod felt sublimely nostalgic, but touching down into those emotions of contentment, loss, fear and love still felt undeniably raw. Not only did I get to prance about to some absolute classics over the course of an evening (with my poor Dad dodging my every move), I’ve been able to see where I have come from and just how far I have come over the past few years. Being in your twenties is undeniably chaotic, but music is a fantastic way of grounding your experience and cementing those emotions in time that might else be lost or forgotten. As such, my busted up iPod, with its little treasure trove of musical gems, is just as valuable as the new stack of music I have waiting for me, ready to be explored (Idles, Michael Kiwanuka and Jade Bird anyone?).

 

[1] Before I elaborate on my excellent Christmas musical experiences, I need to provide a small caveat. I’m not a fan of big technological multinationals in general, but Apple is a particularly large bogeyman for a number of reasons. Some of these include their cynical policy of planned obsolescence (purposefully making their products and systems redundant thereby forcing users to upgrade or buy more products) that keeps people in a permanent bind of consumption and creates huge amounts of technological waste; their historic routing of profits through countries like Ireland and the British Virgin Islands means that despite the billions made from selling products, Apple pay some of the lowest rates of corporation tax (3% in the UK); Apple continue to award manufacturing contracts to factories in China where workers are forced to labour in horrendous conditions; and, I severely dislike Apple’s digital download policy that when you buy a song from iTunes, you have bought a license to play the song but you don’t actually own it.[1] I am aware that Apple aren’t alone in following such practices, but I think it is important to acknowledge these things when necessary. I have always been sceptical of any company that openly gestures towards innovation and creativity but uses shortcuts and questionable methods to achieve these ‘enlightened’ goals.

 

Love Note – Ave Maria

Amongst the usual merry-go-round of Christmas songs, one song has captured my undivided attention this year: Frank Sinatra’s rendition of Ave Maria. It’s not necessarily a Christmas song; it’s not necessarily a song that I have cared much about in the past; and I only really started caring about Frank Sinatra two years ago when ‘One For My Baby (And One More For The Road)’ literally stopped me in my tracks.[1] This year, however, Sinatra’s rendition of Schubert’s much-loved piece has been the gentle yet sublime musical offering that I have needed during this busy time.

The combination of Sinatra’s deep voice with the soaring choral accompaniment is both uplifting and deeply comforting. He sings a popular Latin interpretation of the song that describes Mary mother of God being with ‘us’ in the hour of our death. This, understandably, could be read as extremely morbid, but for me, feels more like a lullaby. On a basic level, the speaker both entreats and asks for everything to be alright, but through the reassuring ebb and flow of the choir, the plucked violins, and Sinatra’s grounding dulcet tones, we get the sense that everything is already more than alright. How can anything be but OK when we use the present moment to tap into hope, appreciation and gratitude?

I would describe myself as spiritual, rather than religious, and whilst Ave Maria has some serious Catholic affiliations, thanks to the previously mentioned Latin prayer that was later attached to Schubert’s composition, there is ample room for further interpretation. Schubert originally composed Ave Maria as a musical setting for Walter Scott’s epic poem The Lady of the Lake: more specifically, Ave Maria is a musical dramatization of Ellen’s song ‘Hymn to the Virgin’, whispered by the heroine Ellen whilst sheltering in a Goblin cave with her exiled father. There are some problematic references to Mary being ‘undefiled’ and ‘stainless’, which reinforce the virginal standard of ‘perfection’ that has been used to hit women round the head with for hundreds and hundreds of years. Some of the lines, however, in their appeal for some kind of divine maternal protection are beautiful:

‘The murky cavern’s heavy air

Shall breathe of balm if thou has smiled;

Then, Maiden! Hear a maiden’s prayer,

Mother, list a suppliant child!

Ave Maria!’

The poem entreats a greater, spiritual power for comfort, safety and support; to dispense the dank weight of the air in the cavern with the gentle smile of benevolence and clarity. Whoever has felt like a captive in the churning and chattering or their own mind knows the yearning for relief and for lightness; the cavern that Scott describes here, trapping Ellen, could easily reflect the headspace of anxiety, depression and worry.[2] A calm, serene smile in the face of adversity, uncertainty and pain is a wonderful image of transcendence and acceptance. Whilst we may remain critical of the traditional, patriarchal imagining of femininity here, this is undeniably a prayer from woman to woman: Ellen appeals to Mary’s young womanhood here, so uncannily like her own, yet not her own. Ellen is at once a woman like Mary, but so in need of nurture and support, like a small child; Mary’s small child. She appeals to a maternal figure so much greater and more powerful than herself, currently trapped in a desperate predicament. In this reaching, in this supplication to something beyond herself for direction and guidance, she finds peace and joy in the declaration: Ave Maria! It is that same feeling I alluded to earlier of asking that everything be made OK, whilst knowing in the very asking, that everything in this present moment is OK, is as it should be.

Ave Maria then, whilst used in many religious circumstances for this most important time of year for Christians, is also welcoming beyond those confines. Life is so uncertain and awe-inspiring, and it is pieces of music like Ave Maria, and what it has come to mean for me, that soothe our fears. It takes us out of the worries and patterns that keep us stuck and afraid, and opens us to the possibility that if we look beyond ourselves into the mysterious, strange and beautiful world and Universe around us, that we can find inner stability and peace.

 

 

 

[1] My first experience with Ave Maria (as with most of my favourite pieces of classical music) was watching Disney’s Fantasia. The film finishes with the calm parade of pilgrims after the chaos and profanity of Modest Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain.

[2] This also reminds me of the opening lines of Dante’s Inferno, which could easily be a metaphor for the existential crisis or Dark Night of the Soul that many, if not all of us, will encounter at some point in life: ‘Midway upon the journey of our life / I found myself within a forest dark / For the straightforward pathway had been lost’.

#ArmisticeDay100 one week on

A week ago saw the international commemorations of Armistice Day: on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, the First World War came to an end. There was the annual event at the Cenotaph in the UK followed by a service at Westminster Abbey, gatherings of world leaders in Paris, and services taking place at cemeteries and memorials in India, New Zealand and the USA amongst many other countries. I had a draft version of this essay ready last Sunday, but decided to wait until a week had gone by before I posted it. I was curious to see how the spirit of remembrance would pan out a mere week after the solemnities of the remembrance services, the public grief and mourning over lives lost and the thankful vows to ‘never forget’. After the week we have just seen, where the level of British political debate has been puerile, headlines have featured militaristic language of ‘plots’, ‘battles’, ‘fighting’, ‘rebels’, ‘calling in the cavalry’ etc. and the harassment of a prominent female investigative journalist became institutional, I am convinced that remembrance in this country is little more than an annual self-indulgent performance.[1] Additionally, and sadly, this did not surprise me in the slightest.

Of course, there is always a performance element to any kind of national event; however, above all others, Armistice Sunday really has become the biggest yardstick of nationalism with which to bash people around the head for a couple of days of the year, until business as usual resumes. Remembrance, we are told (and I firmly believe should), involve respect of difference, empathy, compassion and a renewed sense of hope in the potential of human beings to acknowledge the injustices of the past and to unite to do good, try harder and be better in future. Nowhere have I seen any of these played out in British politics this past week: the lack of respect, the spite, the selfishness that we have seen manifesting at Westminster has been galling. As such, I think it’s absolutely crucial that we deconstruct and re-think remembrance, so that we carry its spirit with us all year long and begin to conduct life as human beings with integrity and long-sightedness. As a species, we can live consciously and kindly, we can serve one another by embracing and protecting difference, and we can prioritise love, compassion and justice over greed, intolerance and hate.

As with many things in these polarised political times, there is much division over the poppy as a symbol of national remembrance. On one hand, it is a nod to John McCrae’s famous poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ and is an emotive and powerful symbol representing sacrifice and loss for a cause greater than oneself. On the other hand, it can be interpreted as an uncritical expression of nationalistic pride; brought out once a year to remember the devastating effect of war on human life whilst governmental policy continues to pursue and fuel unnecessary conflict.[3] For literary critic Walter Benjamin, this thinking in binary opposition, that has incidentally become so inflammatory and toxic over the past few years, is inevitable if we are to understand our history, our present and our future through the use of symbols. The poppy will never go far enough to help us understand and remember history. Instead, we need to culturally embrace and elevate allegory.  As Benjamin writes in The Origin of German Tragic Drama:

[…] in allegory, the observer is confronted with the facies hippocratica of history as a petrified, primordial landscape. Everything about history that, from the very beginning, has been untimely, sorrowful, unsuccessful, is expressed in a face- or rather a death’s head […] it significantly gives rise not only to the question of human existence, but also the biographical historicity of the individual.

Reading this on and around Armistice Day, there seems to be no more a fitting image of a ‘petrified, primordial landscape’ than the hellish ‘No Man’s Land’: stretches of Belgium and France that were muddy, pockmarked with shells (some still unexploded), land scoured with barbed wire and dead bodies churned up in it all. If this is the face of history, then we need to understand history in a much more multifarious and multifaceted way than a symbol can allow. Indeed, when we try to remember and observe the impact of such complex and destructive human inventions such as war, nationhood and self, this becomes crucial. I would argue that it is important to mark the centenary of the end of the First World War; it is important to remember the destruction and devastation that war entails; it is important that we share a collective grief and mourning over the past so that we can build a more progressive, peaceful future. I am very serious about peace and if the world is to take the principles of Armistice Day more seriously i.e. observe it beyond one day of the year, then we must look above and beyond the symbol of the poppy alone. A symbol cannot go far enough to explore the depth of experience that Armistice Day entails. To reflect on all the fallout of war, we need to go beyond the surface level of symbols and engage with allegory. In my opinion, one of the best ways to access the historical nuances and perspectives of allegory is through art: poetry, music, film and visual art. Art and creative expression take us away from the confining realms of the symbolic, widening and deepening our conception of historical event and history itself. It is essential that remembrance incorporates art.  In light of this, I want to begin by discussing a particular piece of music that can help us to explore remembrance in a way that provides a more comprehensive, broader and yet deeper understanding of the past that Armistice Day requires.

I first heard Vaughn Williams’ The Lark Ascending, written in 1914, during the rather lengthily titled ‘A Solemn Commemoration of the Centenary of the Outbreak of the First World War’, which took place on 4th August 2014 at Westminster Abbey. Amongst the usual hallmarks of British national remembrance on display, from poppy wreaths, the soaring strains of Elgar and Bible readings to the royal family clad in a combination of black and military regalia, the service made room for poetry and music. The work of T.S Eliot, Wilfrid Gibson, Sebastian Faulks and Bach all made appearances and I was happy to see German prayers and poems featured too. Yet, it was Jennifer Pike and Daniel Cook’s haunting performance, on the violin and organ respectively that, in my opinion, brought an exceptional emotional weight to the service.[5]

The Lark Ascending (I’m thinking of the almost mythical Wessex as a backdrop to Hardy’s concerns with contemporary misogyny, hypocrisy and class limitation).

There is an elegiac quality to The Lark Ascending, making it suitably fitting for remembrance. Its mournful folk strains convey a sense of painful, intangible loss where we know that we are losing or have lost something, but we’re not entirely sure what.In light of this, how else can we think about remembrance, and what can remembrance also include?

War is an attack on critical thinking. In 1914, Europe was heavily armed, and the powerful ruling elites, who had spent years acquiring arms and stealing land and resources across the world, needed little excuse to start blowing each other up. What they relied upon, however, were young, fit men who would do the fighting on their behalf. The propaganda campaigns across all the nations and alliances involved in the First World War were sustained and convincing. In Britain, for example, 2.4 million men volunteered to fight before conscription was introduced in 1916. Men from Britain’s colonial territories were also convinced/forced to join the war; for example, 10% of New Zealand’s 1.1 million population volunteered to join the fight in Europe, with 18,000 eventually losing their lives.[7] The war was presented in a very simplistic way: ‘we’ are good, ‘they’ are bad, and, as such, young men were encouraged to enlist to assert and defend a strong sense of nationalistic pride. The posters and adverts appealed to unambiguous xenophobia, a misguided sense of glory and heroism and the war was likened to a big, grand adventure.

We can gain a clear sense that war was marketed to the young, and it was undoubtedly the young who suffered in their millions. At no point were they actively encouraged to look beyond ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and explore the history and complexity of the war: young people were just encouraged to get involved, for quite literally fear of missing out and for fear of being accused of cowardice. For all that many young people today are called ‘snowflakes’ for challenging the orthodoxies and traditions into which they have been born, at least they have been encouraged to explore contexts and perspectives beyond their own. In a world of ‘dodgy dossiers’ (the Iraq War was nothing if not a shining example of critical thinking being swept aside for the sake of power and posturing) and fake news, we need to be more careful than ever with the information we consume. We must learn to question the information and stories being delivered to us, especially when they are being presented to us with a motion towards objectivity, and not allow facts and opinions to become so hopelessly muddled. Remembrance and critical thinking must walk hand-in-hand so that we do not slip and slide down the murky paths of bigotry, vested interest and power into catastrophic violence.

War is an attack on all of humanity: the total number of deaths resulting from World War One is estimated at 20 million, which was divided into 9.7 million military personnel and 10 million civilians.

During services of remembrance, we are told that we must remember all wars; however, what we think of as ‘war’ is, in itself, very limited. ‘War’ conjures up images of strategic military campaigns and operations, trench warfare, spitfires, tanks and the ideological aim of attacking some form of an aggressor. I think, however, that the conception of ‘war’ needs to be broadened much wider. In particular, I think we need to acknowledge the role of brute force and military violence in the form of colonial atrocities. There must be a space for acknowledgment of colonial barbarism in our collective Remembrance. The pillaging and theft of human beings, their land and their cultural identities from across Africa, Asia, the South Pacific and Americas at the hands of European soldiers must also be acknowledged as the acts of war that they are. The tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Westminster Abbey is a national focus on Armistice Day, but what about the unknown millions who were killed and raped at the hands of soldiers when their countries were colonised and destroyed? If invading another country with weapons and arms, claiming it as your own, butchering and oppressing the people there isn’t an act of war, I don’t know what is. To add insult to grave injury, Remembrance is savagely whitewashed. What is rarely acknowledged is how many indigenous peoples fought in a European war, hundreds of miles away from their homes: 1 million Indian soldiers served in the British army; 166,000 West Africans, 46,000 Madagascans, 50,000 Indochinese, 140,000 Algerians, 47,000 Tunisians and 24,300 Moroccans were brought to Europe by the French; and 2200 Maori soldiers were in the New Zealand army, plus many more ethnicities. This was all whilst military campaigns and bombardments were conducted across Africa by the colonial powers to divert attention, money and resources away from the Western Front.[10] The contributions to the ‘war effort’ of Commonwealth and other former colonial countries cannot be acknowledged without also acknowledging that those very soldiers were victims of colonial and cultural war. Britain, in particular, is very reluctant to have a frank and honest discussion about atrocities committed in pursuit of ‘Empire’. If we are to remember all wars properly, we must cast our perspectives wider, beyond the trenches, over the seas to lands that Britain had absolutely no right to steal from others; to peoples who bore the scars of foreign soldiers.

Finally, there is always hope.  Even after witnessing British politics revealing itself  to be the sorry shit show that it is one week one from the 100th anniversary of the end of the First World War, we can be better. Through proper mourning and grief work, through a concerted, meaningful practice of remembrance, we can touch upon the prospect of better future. Elevating symbols like the poppy without acknowledging the deeper ambivalence surrounding the fallout of war, simply will not help us to learn from the past to produce a better future: here, a greater appreciation and understanding of art will always help. All wars have to end with diplomacy and conversations where we actively seek resolution: remembrance, therefore, should bring awareness to those very things, before arms are hastily taken up to begin with. Instead of blindly following the traditions of remembrance, remembrance itself must be an action. More specifically, it must be an explicit action of thinking critically and compassionately: weighing up arguments and perspectives, developing historical fluency and taking responsibility for all military atrocities.

 

[1] ‘The Papers’, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/blogs/the_papers [accessed 19th November 2018].

[2] Additionally, a mere three days before Armistice Day, a report was published highlighting that 41% of children have seen adults bullying one another in the past six months. How can adults preach to child to not bully one another when the way in which adults relate to and speak to one another is wholeheartedly aggressive, disinterested and narrow-minded? ‘Bullying: Children point finger at adults’, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-46140135 [accessed: 18:35, Sunday 18th November 2018].

[3] Here I refer to the controversial invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan and the British government’s arms trade with Saudi Arabia.

[4] The full order of service can be found here: https://www.westminster-abbey.org/media/5205/ww1-vigil-service.pdf

[5] The original 1914 composition of The Lark Ascending was written violin and piano. Williams later reconstructed the piece for an orchestra that premiered in 1920 and has become one of the most popular pieces of music of all time.

[6] I think there may be room here for discussion of the pastoral with Sigmund Freud’s conception of ‘melancholia’: ‘One feels justified in maintaining the belief that a loss of this kind has occurred, but one cannot see clearly what it is that has been lost, and it is all the more reasonable to suppose that the patient cannot consciously perceive what he has lost either […] This would suggest that melancholia is in some way related to an object-loss which is withdrawn from consciousness’ from ‘Mourning and Melancholia’, The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,  Volume XIV (1914-1916) p.245.

[7] https://ww100.govt.nz/history-guide [accessed 21:28, 18th November 2018].

[8] ‘Reperes’, http://www.centre-robert-schuman.org/userfiles/files/REPERES%20%E2%80%93%20module%201-1-1%20-%20explanatory%20notes%20%E2%80%93%20World%20War%20I%20casualties%20%E2%80%93%20EN.pdf [accessed 21:15, 18th November 2018].

[9] ‘Europe on the move: refugees and World War One’, Peter Gatrell, https://www.bl.uk/world-war-one/articles/refugees-europe-on-the-move# [accessed 19th November 2018].

[10] ‘In 1914, the whole of Africa, except Ethiopia and Liberia, was under European rule and Great Britain and France controlled the two largest colonial empires’, Experiences of Colonial Troops, Santanu Das https://www.bl.uk/world-war-one/articles/colonial-troops [accessed 16:29, 19th November 2018].

Love Note – The Spice Girls

Last Saturday, I managed to get tickets to see the Spice Girls and I am very excited. I first saw the Spice Girls in 1998 at Sheffield’s Don Valley stadium, sadly minus Geri who had left at that point, then again in 2008 for their reunion show in London. Now I am sticking to my rough 10-year schedule and seeing them for a third time; this time minus Victoria who is, understandably, keeping herself and her sophisticated and successful fashion line at a healthy distance from the gaudy, nostalgic pop-fest that encompasses all things Spice. I will miss her because although I related more to Sporty, Baby and Scary when I was younger, I always appreciated the presence of the scowling chic one in the little Gucci dress. I will also always reject the idea that she didn’t contribute much by way of vocal prowess. With perhaps the exception of Mel C, none of the Spice Girls meet truly exceptional heights of singing capability, and that’s OK because that was never the point.

So here I am, twenty years on from my first encounter with the Spice Girls, which is both horrifying and wonderful. The first time I encountered the Spice Girls was watching the iconic video for ‘Wannabe’ on Top of the Pops. After that, my life was Spice mad: I had the CDs, Spice Girls birthday cakes, Spice Girls dolls, Spice Girls posters and my long-suffering dad took me to see Spice World: The Movie. I was utterly convinced that they could see me at the end (fans of the film will know what I’m talking about) and I had absolutely no time for my dad’s protestations that they were ‘looking down a camera’. They were partially responsible for mine and my school friends’ ambitions of being world-famous popstars and I was a keen adherent to the crop top craze á la Sporty Spice: my favourite because she could sing the best, also supported Liverpool Football Club and looked the most like me. I think this was largely their (commercial) magic: there was a Spice Girl we could all relate to or identify with in some way or other.

What I was not so aware of when I was younger was just how commercial and marketised The Spice Girls were. I remember them being everywhere, to my delight at the time: they were all over Pepsi, Walkers Crisps, Polaroid cameras, Asda and Cadbury products and even fronted a range of temporary tattoos amongst their many other marketing campaigns. In addition, I can completely see now why people found this manufactured, product placement band next-level irritating. Similar consumerist endorsements from today’s popstars and musicians annoy me no-end: yet with their chemistry, their bubbly advocacy of ‘Girl Power’, the way they used to invade space and trample over their interviewers, their undeniably catchy songs and my young and unfiltered eyes, the Spice Girls were absolutely loveable. Indeed, they are still loveable in a nostalgic, escapist, harmless pop way. Despite my slight ambivalence, I have no qualms about re-visiting some of my favourite childhood pop songs for a few hours in Wembley next June, some of which include:

Who Do You Think You Are – Pumped up party tune posing a deeply existential question as a statement. Favourite lyric: ‘The race is on to get out of the bottom / The top is high so your roots are forgotten’.

Denying – 90s faux-RnB tune demanding acceptance from friend/lover/family member. Favourite lyric: ‘You think you’re so cool / Hey big man you’re old school’

Naked – Seductive ballad-esque situation that has matured better than some of their other output: emphasis on the female gaze is particularly progressive. Favourite lyric: ‘Undress you with her eyes, uncover the truth from the lies / Strip you down, no need to care, lights are low exposed and bare’.

Step To Me – Sassy song demanding relationship compliance that came as a Pepsi CD supplement. Favourite lyric: ‘Come on a step to me / Shame the devil, tell the truth / I can tell you don’t know what to do’.

Too Much – More 90s faux-RnB ballad gold dust, tapping into my early-twenties interest in the concept of ‘nothing’ and ‘nothingness’. Favourite lyric: ‘Too much of something is bad enough / But something’s coming over me to make me wonder / Too much of nothing is just as tough / I need to know the way to feel to keep me satisfied’.

New Zealand: music we listened to

Spending six weeks driving around New Zealand with my partner opened up a lot of time to listen to music new and old. We got round to the albums that we really should have heard by now and wallowed in songs that have been ringing around our heads for years. I thought I’d share my thoughts on a few here. Out of all the albums we downloaded (thanks Spotify), two really stood out the most, demonstrating some of the very best song writing around at the moment.

SZA – Ctrl

SZA-CTRL-album-cover

The first time I came across SZA was when she featured on ‘Consideration’, the opening song of Rihanna’s 2016 album Anti. Her voice has the gravelly soul of the great Lauryn Hill, coupled with a gorgeous raspy softness, and I was definitely interested to listen to this 2017 solo effort. The opening track, ‘Supermodel’, is breath taking, and I’m finding it hard to think of another first song that is as arresting, intertwining musical simplicity with lyrics that epically twist and turn with the complexity of the person singing. Beginning with the unflinching bravado of ‘I been secretly banging your homeboy’, SZA swings between a gutsy, devil-may-care façade and a piercingly sensitive portrait of an insecure young woman newly and unwillingly single. Here’s an extract just to taste:

‘Ooh just get a load of them

They got chemistry

All they could say

We like brother and sister

Look so good together

Bet they fuckin’ for real

 

And they was right

That’s why I stayed with ya

The—the dick was too good

It made me feel good

For temporary love

You was a temporary lover

 

Leave me lonely for prettier women

You know I need too much attention

For shit like that

You know you wrong

For shit like that

 

I could be your supermodel

If you believe

If you see it in me

See it in me

See it in me

 

I don’t see myself

Why I can’t stay alone just by myself?

Wish I was comfortable just with myself

But I need you

I need you

I need you’ – ‘Supermodel’, Ctrl

Vulnerability palpitates here: she clings to the glorious image of her and her ex, looking at their relationship through the eyes of others and consolidating how well matched they were. What is so subtle but revealing in the next verse is the caesura of ‘That’s why I stayed with ya / The – the dick was too good’. Even when SZA’s words are telling one story or conveying one apparent response, the caesura indicates that there is something more powerful underneath, disrupting the lyrics and their delivery. The break between ‘the’ and ‘the’ comes across as a stumble or a stutter, as though she catches herself before she lets her emotions flow through again, shifting awkwardly back into the almost traditionally masculine bravado of physicality. It’s not convincing at all that she just stayed with her boyfriend for sex; the hesitating break suggests that by referring to his dick she is attempting, perhaps unconsciously, to obscure her emotional distress over the break up, or distract from the pain of it. In her attempt to show a lack of care, she demonstrates that she cares very, very much and herein lies the song’s heart-wrenching vulnerability.

This becomes even clearer because her bravado does not last long: the caesura is followed by the chorus, which comes with a series of repetitions, for example ‘see it in me’ and ‘I need you’, and a question, ‘Why I can’t stay alone just by myself?’ She is aware that she has a desire to be secure within herself, a desire to not feel lonely even if she finds herself alone, but she is nowhere near there with her self-esteem or her emotional independence. She implores with her ex that she could be his ‘supermodel’, perhaps suggesting that physical beauty is an important thing to him, something he values in a relationship. It also, however, suggests that this is something that she values too, because she wants him to see outstanding physical beauty in her. She is hurt by the fact that he has left her for ‘prettier women’, suggesting that there is something lacking in her beauty that meant she couldn’t make him stay. It is incredibly moving listening to a woman grappling with why her boyfriend doesn’t want to be with her. At times, she tries to be the archetypal strong, independent woman who needs a dick and not a man; but at the same time she is crippled by self-criticism and constantly looks beyond herself for happiness and acceptance in superficiality.

And so the album begins. It is truly an outstanding way to set the scene for the rest to follow, with my particular favourites coming in the form of ‘Drew Barrymore’ and the trippy ‘Doves in the Wind’ featuring Kendrick Lamar, which reminded me of Lamar’s ‘YAH’ from his Pulitzer-prize winning album DAMN. It has something of the Frank Oceanic about it too. The most famous song from the album, perhaps, is ‘Weekend’ which was given a Majestic Casual-esque makeover (sic ‘Funk Wav Remix’) by Calvin Harris. Whilst I am here for as much soul and funk as possible, the remix does lose some of the carefully crafted vulnerability of the original; the delicate mingling of devil-may-care and crippling self-doubt, where a young woman tries to embrace the freedom of temporary, flexible romance but definitely wants more.  Overall, SZA is one of the artists I am most excited about at the moment. I am rarely convinced by portrayals or depictions of love and relationships in pop culture, but SZA’s raw songs are fresh and original in their sensitivity.

St Vincent – MASSEDUCTION

masseduction_st vincent

This was the album we listened to by far the most on our trip. I had been aware of St Vincent for a long time: the first song I can remember of Annie Clark’s was a collaboration with Grizzly Bear called ‘Slow Life’ from the Twilight: New Moon soundtrack (I don’t care what anyone says, the Twilight films were shite but the soundtracks most certainly were not. The soundtrack from this film, in particular, introduced me to Bon Iver, Band of Skulls and Thom Yorke); however, I had never taken the time to actually listen to any more of her music.

Initially, I got the wrong end of the stick with the title, reading ‘mass education’ and not ‘mass seduction’. This made the eponymous song, with its list of fetishes that get St Vincent hot under the collar, mildly confusing when I’d been expecting a manifesto on the importance of accessible, state-funded schooling. When I learned to read again (how ironic) it quickly became clear that this album is as passionate in its engagement with our hyperactive, hyper-sexualised pill-popping culture as I thought it would be about teaching. The tongue-in-cheek characterisation of sex, vanity and indulgence in songs like ‘Los Ageless’, ‘Sugarboy’ and ‘Savior’ are met with Jack Anatoff’s signature pulse-racing, electro-heavy production, creating a wacky Willy Wonka ride through the obsessions and repressions of modern romance.

These, however, are immediately offset and intermingled with songs that convey a real sense of desperation, the comedown after all the hype. Where individual grappling with anxiety, loneliness and regret, explored in songs like ‘Hang On Me’, ‘Happy Birthday, Johnny’, ‘Young Lover’ and ‘Slow Disco’, is projected onto a collective future that is severely bleak. In ‘Fear the Future’, St Vincent demands an anonymous ‘Sir’ to confront the seemingly inevitable prospects of war and swelling oceans which, I think, is a blatant address to President Trump.[1] The awareness of personal and political turmoil rubbing together and creating intense heat is centre stage on this album. They fuel one another and create a fast-paced, energetic trip that makes contemplation and reflection both necessary and unavoidable.

MASSEDUCTION excels because whilst heavy with complex synths, dark discussions of mental health and demonstrating palm-sweating horror at the damage we do to ourselves and others, it is never far from a wry wink or a cheeky elbow in the ribs. Much like the pills St Vincent describes raining down on us and propping up our lives, I listened to this album compulsively.

Other albums we listened to:

father john mistyIsolationKendrickBLL

‘Pure Comedy’, Father John Misty – emotional encyclopaedia that is also warmly scathing in its criticism of humanity’s current condition: Trump, misogyny, religion, social media, cultural revolutions all take beatings.

‘Isolation’, Kali Uchis – the love child of Amy Winehouse and Rihanna. The happiest sounding sad songs I’ve come across in a while.

‘DAMN’, Kendrick Lamar – I miss the challenging, experimental narratives of ‘Good Kid, M. A. A. D City’ and ‘To Pimp a Butterfly’, but Lamar’s lyrics have never been so performative nor complex than with this punchy, powerful album.

‘Melodrama’, Lorde – we couldn’t not listen to Lorde whilst in New Zealand (she’s from Devonport, Auckland). This album has become a certified modern classic and I would have loved for it to have been around when I was 20 and a mess. The sound engineering is great (see Jack Anatoff again) but the lyrics are gratingly immature at times; she’s perpetually self-deprecating but everything is always someone else’s fault too.

‘Konnichiwa’, Skepta – ‘Your ex plays in the Prem but you never see him taking a pen / ‘Cause if you can’t hit the G-spot when it comes to the spot kicks / Manna gotta wait on the bench’ is one of my favourite lyrics ever. More rappers need to pay attention to female sexual pleasure, please.

‘Ultraviolence’, Lana Del Rey – my go-to, come rain, shine, hell or high water. Del Rey and Dan Auerbach magic from beginning to end.

‘Big Little Lies’ Soundtrack – we listened to this so many times. A comprehensive textbook of blues and dream pop, featuring Charles Bradley, Michael Kiwanuka, Jefferson Airplane, Elvis Presley, Big Brother and the Holding Company, Agnes Obel, Alabama Shakes etc.

Personal playlists: featuring the likes of Tom Misch, Barney the Artist, Earth, Wind and Fire, Marvin Gaye, Jamie Woon, Sade, The Beatles, The Doors, Leonard Cohen, Kate Bush, Enya (yes, really), Ann Peebles, Eminem, Whitney Houston etc.

[1] Released in 2017, MASSEDUCTION is one of a string of releases by American artists in that year who are seething and incredulous at the political fallout of the 2016 presidential election (see also Kendrick Lamar and Lana Del Rey).

‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake him off’: thoughts on the 2015 General Election result

This essay was originally published on a blog called Cloudbanks and Shimbleshanks on 8th May 2015, the day after the Conservatives won an outright majority in the General Election. Re-reading it a couple of days ago, I felt that it warranted re-publishing on Harping On. In spite of some of my more youthful writing, it’s shocking how pertinent it still reads, in particular with the idea that we need to use creativity and public space to combat inaction and apathy. As the world has been on a slippery political slope of increased austerity and hate ever since 2015, it is even more urgent that we are engaged and active now.

The 2015 General Election result undoubtedly set a precedent for everything that has followed since: most obviously with Brexit, but also for the much needed rise of Jeremy Corbyn and a regenerated socialist discourse. I know I did not do nearly enough during the EU Referendum campaign to get the result that I wanted and that didn’t come to pass. I hope, however, that in the publication of my novel ‘Tender is the Gelignite’, past me will be satisfied with my attempt at using creativity politically; the mad beastie of a book I have produced that explicitly critiques, mocks and performs the chaos that the 2015 election result laid the foundations for.  

When the broadcasting Exit Poll was published last night showing a Conservative outright majority, for a lot of people alarm bells started ringing. So many, myself included, were convinced that a hung parliament was on the cards only to see a seemingly endless sea of sickly, putrid blue envelope the country. For anyone who regards this country more as a society and a community than an economy perpetuated by self-interest and individualism, the result has been disastrous.

We all know what’s coming: the sinisterly named welfare ‘reforms’, a word that suggests progression and change but now signifies cuts and rolling back; tax cuts to the wealthiest and most affluent proportions of society; the NHS being carved up and sold off on the sly; security and protection services cut and contracts given to private companies; more people using food banks; cuts to sexual and mental health services; cuts to domestic violence services; council houses not being built, and those that are built being sold off; large corporations benefitting from state funding and not paying their taxes; banks still not paying back the £1 trillion that public money paid to save them because of reckless lending; and schools following an increasingly archaic and redundant curriculum. Just the tip of the iceberg for a party that had almost half of its members vote against gay marriage, who have ballsed up various inquiries into the sexual abuse of children because they have too many links to the perpetrating Establishment, and who want to abolish the European Human Rights Act. With David Cameron declaring in an uncanny and not at all un-ironic way that he wants to lead a ‘one-nation’ government, harking back to Benjamin Disraeli’s paternalistic One Nation Toryism, it looks like we’re set to be dragged back, even further than we already have been, into the recesses of the 19th century.

Again, we have seen that this country is held to ransom by Rupert Murdoch. It was easy to start believing that the power of social media could become a meaty force to be reckoned with, what with #milifandom, the fuelling of the #greensurge on Facebook and Twitter and the ease with which we can now engage with other people and with politicians themselves. It seems, however, that the old-school newspapers and tabloids, those slabs of tangible news (sic. bollocks) have seeped into public consciousness more successfully. Facebook has been recently heavily criticised for an algorithm that essentially filters what we see and read depending on our clicks and likes, thus ensuring that our newsfeeds become clogged up with articles and posts that we want to see: it is the blatant construction of false hope. Nothing I or anyone else of a left persuasion could have posted would ever have been able to compare with the reams of nasty vitriol spewing forth daily from the front pages of The Sun, The Daily Mail, The Telegraph and The Times in supermarkets, on buses and everywhere in between. Once again, as with the case of former Labour leader Neil Kinnock, the Murdoch-run rags have undoubtedly helped their Tory pals to seal the defeat of the opposition. It proves that once again, he should never be underestimated; the media is society’s main ideological machine, the conveyor of hegemony, and boy did Murdoch’s cronies take themselves to a whole new level of spiteful this election with the industrial smearing of Ed Miliband. They even managed to track down @twcuddleston, the girl who founded #milifandom, turning up on her doorstep having mysteriously found her unpublished address.

After the initial shock and panic of the election results, everything has become very clear. We need to shout louder, make our points clearer and harness this anger and sadness that so many of us are feeling right now and do something to counter the predominant narrative. I would argue that people have voted Conservative because of the endless diatribe of fear and austerity that we have been pummelled with. In these times of crisis, it looks like many people have decided to vote in a way that they will think will better them and their families specifically, and there’s nothing wrong with that. The problem is that it facilitates a climate whereby people don’t vote for the sort of society they want to see as a whole, but for what will benefit them and their own for the longest time possible. This is an idea that has appealed to people of all social circumstances and is, perhaps, one of Thatcher’s most lasting legacies. It is time for hope: an end to the fear of difference in any of its racial, sexual or gendered forms and a return to the compassion and empathy that years of crisis in the early twentieth century created within the people of this country.

One of the books Michael Gove famously removed from the GCSE syllabus was To Kill a Mockingbird. The novel is full of important questions regarding race, gender and the interpretation of the law; but perhaps the most prominent ideological feature that can be read within the language and plot is the idea of trying to relate to another person’s ideas or actions, with Atticus most famously telling Scout, ‘you never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view-until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it’. It’s such a simple concept, walking around as though you are another person, seeing with their eyes, feeling their emotions, but it can be, understandably, incredibly difficult and disconcerting. But that doesn’t make it any less important or worthwhile to do. We need to stop being so self-involved and think about a society that is fair and kind, not run on a heady quest to make ever more profit for oneself, no matter the cost to human lives and human experience.

In his book on the Establishment, Owen Jones talks about the need for grassroots political activism, think tanks and assemblies, and I completely agree. I seriously recommend the aforementioned book (the chapter on corporations scrounging off the largesse of the state in particular makes for simultaneously fascinating and sobering reading), but I think this is also the time for arts and creativity to, once again, to walk hand-in-hand with the political ideas. We need to produce more literature, more music, more film, more comedy that challenges the ideas that the Tories stand for. Whether we lean with Labour, the Greens, the SNP, Plaid Cymru, TUSC or that empty shell of a party the Liberal Democrats, we need to be united and organised in our challenge to Tory and neo-liberal dogma. Undoubtedly, the SNP are going to give the Westminster cartel a complete headache with their grit, determination and passion, and we can do the same. The writers, the musicians, the film-makers, the academics, the twenty-somethings lost in the 21st century maelstrom of debt, unaffordable housing and a struggling NHS that we have inherited, need to use our creativity to reverse the consensus. Political activists need to join forces with bands, artists need to represent the struggle of unions and workers, we need to use our talents to hammer home that even though the Tories have this majority, they are not good enough for us. The pages of magazines and newspapers should be full of hope, images of like-minded people from different races, cultures, genders and sexual orientations in solidarity with one another.

Director extraordinaire Michel Gondry once said that ‘Every great idea is on the verge of being stupid’, which is both comforting and empowering. Here’s a potential one that could work: I always used to think that university elections were one and lost in toilets: stalls used to be plastered with mass produced stickers and flyers, and what better time to get to know someone’s policy than when you have a bit of time to kill in the loo? Similarly, in light of Protein World’s Beach Body advert, billboards were defaced and edited in small acts of powerful protestation. Maybe if we start reclaiming public spaces like loos or even better advertising boards (that invade almost every inch of our lives to make us aspire and feel insecure) on a big scale, on an un-ignorable scale, maybe we can start helping people to see beyond their front gardens, encouraging critical thinking, undercutting the power of the media and thereby the ideological dogma of our new government. This is the time for ideas and creativity as well as activism, and hopefully in 5 years time, we can shake of this exhausting, dead Tory weight that’s been holding us down for years.

Thanks again to the monument that is Florence Welch for the lyrics that inspired and serve as title to this essay.

Lana Del Rey: music, fans and commercial mayhem

Anyone who knows me knows that Lana Del Rey is one of my all-time favourite women. Her music found its way into my life in 2012 at a very interesting time and over the years, I have enjoyed her intricate and very moving play with enigma and persona, and her excellent storytelling. Her second LP Ultraviolence has particular significance for me: her collaboration with Dan Auerbach, of one of my favourite bands of all time The Black Keys, was what my dark, gritty dreams were made off. Moody and intertextual, casually referencing A Clockwork Orange, Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, The Crystals, Virginia Woolf, Nina Simone and Lou Reed, the album, for all that it was pared back compared to its Lolita-infused predecessor Born to Die, was still sumptuous and cinematic. It told the post-Lolita story, revealing the stony and unsettling aftermath of a narrative that was previously fizzing and overflowing with youth, hubris, desire and mournful chaos. Ultraviolence shows us that Born to Die as a concept was only ever going to be fleeting, that it’s flipside was dark, serious and dangerous. It was initially jarring for many fans and critics, with the Guardian famously indirectly berating her during the initial promotion for her extra-marital involvements and for dwelling on death.[1]

I felt, however, that Ultraviolence was the perfect continuation, the only continuation of the story; and she famously culminated the whole trilogy with Honeymoon, a similarly intertextual record that oozed with malaise, deliberation and a bittersweet sense of an ending. Indeed, in the videos for Freak and Music To Watch Boys To, Del Rey was flocked by a gaggle of young Born To Die-esque beauties and there was an uncanny sense that whilst Del Rey sipped her Kool-Aid, she was passing the waifish, young, naughty, nymphet baton to the next generation. This trilogy of Born to Die (including its Paradise EP), Ultraviolence and Honeymoon are modern classics and we have been so lucky to have a woman tell such a captivating story of self-awareness, femininity, sexuality, danger and maturity so publically and with so much success. She is a master storyteller and her mountains of lyrics and intricately produced tracks are a testament to this.

On Ultraviolence, Del Rey wrote a satirical song called ‘Money Power Glory’ that documented a young down-and-out, bitter about being poor and yearning for dope, diamonds and an affluent, aspirational land far away. The song works well as a critique of the neoliberal culture we live in that revolves around these three eponymous entities, yet sardonically laughs at the fact that in spite of knowing that these things don’t make us happy, we still ardently and avidly crave them.  Over the past few days, however, Del Rey threw her fans into a capitalist chaos that I don’t think reflects the satire of her previous viewpoint and that has slightly jolted the way we should approach her new era.

On Wednesday 18th June, posts went up on Del Rey’s Facebook, Twitter and Instagram accounts announcing that she was doing a surprise show at London’s O2 Academy in Brixton for the following Monday 24th July. Considering Del Rey has only performed once in the UK in the past 4 years, at Radio 1’s Big Weekend in Hull in May 2017, there was a huge appetite for this gig and it immediately attracted a lot of attention. I was unable to go because I am out of the country next week, but wanted to help my younger sister, an equally avid Lana Del Rey fan but at the time delayed at an airport in France, to get to Brixton. In the end, it proved impossible for me to buy her tickets for her because O2 Brixton do not accept tickets without the ID of the initial lead buyer. As I would be out of the country, neither of us could go. I must admit I was temporarily embittered but, you know, I’m going to Greece next week. It’s cool. I was still, however, witness to everything that unfolded and it left a sour taste in my mouth.

Fans who wanted access to the pre-sale had until 5 o’clock on Wednesday 18th July to register. This involved pre-ordering a copy of the new album Lust for Life, due for release on Friday 21st June, for around £9.99 in exchange for a pre-sale code.  At 9:00 the next morning, Wednesday 19th July, pre-sale tickets went live and sold out in a matter of seconds. General sale tickets went live at 12:00 and, again, sold out in a matter of seconds. Social media was completely abuzz with hundreds of fans disappointed and frustrated that within moments of the clock hitting 12:00, ticket vendors were refreshing and declaring that there were no tickets left. Barely minutes afterwards, tickets were appearing on Viagogo selling for £600 a go. This puts fans in another bind because, as previously mentioned, O2 Brixton do not accept tickets without the ID of the initial lead buyer. Touts are, inevitably, selling on tickets at extraordinary prices to fans who won’t be able to enter the building with them anyway. This is something that Ed Sheeran has actively addressed in relation to his up-coming string of gigs by cancelling around 10,000 tickets.[2] It has not been announced whether Del Rey and her management are addressing this.

From the beginning, Del Rey and her management were capitalising, literally, on the enthusiasm of fans desperate to see such a rare show. By asking people, mostly young and whom she appeals to with a clear direct ‘you’ in new songs like ‘Love’, to put up money at little notice in exchange for privileged access to tickets seems mean and underhand.[3] These are people who have spent and probably will continue to spend money on Lana Del Rey and her merchandise in the future and it wasn’t exactly a generous gesture. It became increasingly unfair as the number of people registering for pre-sale swelled massively making it increasingly unlikely that many of these fans were even going to get tickets. After pre-sale and general sale, it appeared on social media that fans were being charged £52 a ticket which, again, on 24 hour notice for a gig next week in one of the most expensive cities in the world, seems ridiculously unfair. It suggests that the fans who could pay the most, by pre-ordering Lust for Life and then stumping up £52 for a ticket, were the ones who got to attend. This is isn’t exactly au fait with the pseudo-hippie aesthetic of freedom, love and lusty carefree youth that Del Rey’s new era is embracing. Instead, she created a virtual stampede, reminiscent of the kind of materialistic commercial madness seen on Black Friday, that was desperate and undignified for those involved.

I understand that many people frequently feel disappointed about missing out on gig tickets and that Twitter will fill up with moaning, weeping and various other melodramatic emotional responses as a result. But when young fans are played with and cast aside for commercial gain, where the artist and management are profiting so heavily from (a) creating multiple financial barriers to gigs and (b) subsequently pitting fans against one another, I find it hard to completely justify and get on board with it, no matter how much I admire the artist. It’s not the sort of marketing tactic I would expect from someone who claims so often that she deeply cares about her fans. Sure, this is all part of Del Rey’s mysterious and unpredictable persona that I’ve so enjoyed up until now, and I’m sure the online furore that has been triggered is happily feeding the myth, but it ultimately shows disdain and an emerging disrespect for fans. Del Rey knows she will be flocked wherever she goes, and her management have taken decisions to rinse as much money out of fans as possible using the mystique and desirability of the artist as fuel. If they were really serious about making as much money as possible, as shown in the strategy to release tickets, then Del Rey should just do a pre-planned tour, giving more people the opportunity to see Del Rey and with ample notice to get tickets. Instead, fans were served with a last minute rare appearance, charged over the odds and ultimately leaving many completely in the cold.

This comes within a week that a song called ‘Groupie Love’ has been released, focusing on the obsessive nature of music fans who see themselves as special and at one with their icon but are just part of a crowd of other likeminded groupies. Del Rey presents herself as being a groupie in the song but after the closure of her Born To Die, Ultraviolence and Honeymoon trilogy, this seems outdated. She has claimed that Lust for Life is for and about her fans: she has previously hinted that she’s ‘cooking something up for the kids’ and in an interview with Billboard said, ‘I felt like it was more wanting to, like, talk to the younger side of the audience I have’.[4] We can, therefore, argue that ‘Groupie Love’ is a nod to and an acknowledgment of the behaviours and naiveté of her fans which she can happily temporarily adopt and play along with. It seems slightly cynical, however, that one moment Del Rey is lauding and romanticising her fans for their groupie mentality but then plays on that very love and obsessiveness to ramp up pre-order sales and to sow financial divisions amongst them. I was then also reminded of an Instagram video Del Rey uploaded on the 22nd September 2016 where one bearded friend jokes that ‘Lolita14 is following [me]’ and another bearded friend  claims, ‘I need one of those’, before joking that he should ask fans who direct message him asking to meet Del Rey to send nudes as payment. In the video, Del Rey laughingly calls them ‘gross’. I think talking about fans in this way is distasteful verging on predatory, but also flippant and exploitative of a fan base who have been whipped into obsessiveness generated by the Lana Del Rey myth-machine in the first place; the level of attention she gets shouldn’t be surprising and something to scoff at. Del Rey has said that she no longer sings the lyrics ‘he hit me and it felt like a kiss’, because she no longer sees it as appropriate or acceptable, but then will happily upload a video encouraging fans to send nudes, even if only in jest.[5] It is undeniably hypocritical.

On the other hand, I can appreciate that some of Del Rey’s fans can be bratty nightmares. By saying this, I refer to the leaking of songs and material that have continuously plagued her career, including the leak of Lust for Life just two days before its official release. Del Rey famously called the fans sharing the link ‘U little fuckers’ and it is understandable that she was angry at such a violation of her privacy and of her agency to share her art when and where she wanted to. I can appreciate that when fans border on the obsessive to such an extent, it must be infuriating. Ironically, however, it served as the perfect counter-balance to the commercial, money-driven hysteria of the O2 gig tickets sales simultaneously unfolding, and many fans took the opportunity to download the album from a spectral link on Twitter. It is important to say that many also did not, choosing to respect the release date and openly condemning the leak out of loyalty to Del Rey.

I am so excited to listen to Lust for Life on its release today and I want to see where the story is going next. I embrace Del Rey’s collaboration with uber cool cats A$AP Rocky, Stevie Nicks and Sean Ono Lennon, and currently love her meditative outputs ‘Coachella – Woodstock In My Mind’ and ‘Summer Bummer’. But there is something that isn’t sitting quite right with the way the campaign for Lust For Life has been run. There has been an arrogance to the treatment of fans that has focused on profit and controversy instead of kindness, understanding and respect. It’s creating a toxic relationship whereby fans are whipped up into a frenzy by last minute rare appearances, clambering over one another figuratively and financially to get tickets; whilst at the same time, Del Rey’s music is leaked without her permission and much to her visible indignation. I’m not getting off the Lana Del Rey train just yet and I don’t suppose I ever will. But for an artist who quotes and reveres Nina Simone’s mantra of reflecting the times, I hope that Del Rey forsakes the capitalistic, commercial trappings of the pop industry and instead, holds a mirror to these very things. She can continue to be elusive and enigmatic whilst still being generous to the people who keep her in the position she is in.

[1] ‘I wish I was dead already’, Tim Jonze, The Guardian, 12th June 2014 [accessed 07:02, 20th July 2017] https://www.theguardian.com/music/2014/jun/12/lana-del-rey-ultraviolence-album

[2] ‘Ed Sheeran cancels 10, 000 tour tickets being sold on re-sale sites’, Huffington Post, 17th July 2017 [accessed 21:16, 19th July 2017] http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/ed-sheeran-tour-tickets-touts-resale-sites_uk_596ca344e4b03389bb18b6b9

[3] ‘Look you kids with your vintage music […] Look you kids, you know you’re the coolest […] it don’t matter because it’s enough to be young and in love’, ‘Love’, Lana De Rey 2017.

[4] ‘Everything we know about Lust For Life (so far)’, Billboard, 29th March 2017 [accessed 22:40, 19th July 2017) http://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/pop/7743538/lana-del-rey-lust-for-life-album-everything-we-know

[5] ‘Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness: a conversation with Lana Del Rey’, Pitchfork, 20th July 2017 [accessed 07:10, 21st July 2017] http://pitchfork.com/features/interview/life-liberty-and-the-pursuit-of-happiness-a-conversation-with-lana-del-rey/