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- Unseen Swells: A simple plan to secure the youth vote
In the run-up to the 2008 US presidential election, Swells emailed his thoughts on the insipid Rock the Vote tour. Hopefully, his suggestions will be taken up in time for the 2012 campaign
Rock the Vote? I think they'd have a hard time rocking the bus, never mind the vote. Melinda Doolittle from American Idol? Were Necrocannibalistic Vomitorium unavailable?
It's certainly a contrast to the Rage Against the Machine-led mayhem at the Republican convention – rock recast as a civics lesson. But it's the fake neutrality that's most offensive – the pretence that it's all about getting young people to vote, for whatever party. It's so utterly dishonest. Let's face it: Obama's got everyone except Kid Rock. McCain's got Kid Rock.
So why not just rename it the Kill the Old tour? Have an actor playing McCain led out on stage and guillotined Alice Cooper-style? Have Blackie Lawless from W.A.S.P. sodomise a George W Bush mannequin? I see a Jack Black-directed opening sequence where AC/DC's Angus Young, dressed as a schoolboy, tells Sarah Palin: "No, mommy, I WON'T clean up my motherfucking room!" Then KARRRANG! Fireworks! Big finale with all the rockers on stage, led by Meat Loaf, Miley Cyrus and her gang of dancing LOLcats (gotta think YOUNG), singing the aria from Les Miserables and ending with their fists in the air as the rear curtain rises to reveal the cast of High School Musical in red-army choir uniforms.
Then they lead the crowd in a rousing rendition of The Internationale before Obama comes screeching on to the stage riding the devil hog from Meat's Bat Out of Hell video (with Miley Cyrus on the back) – leather-jacketed, smoking, eating a Mickey D and sporting an enormous greasy quiff that he runs a comb through before sneering: "Fuck the man! Vote me November 4! LOL!"
And then CUT! That's the way to get the youth vote.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Переслать - Why Keith Richards should take over Tate Modern | Jonathan Jones
Music legends of the 1960s might be welcome in today's pop music, but contemporary art shuns its old masters – why?
The Marxist cultural critic Walter Benjamin says somewhere, I believe, in his famous essay The Work of Art in an Age of Mechanical Reproduction, that people will accept a radicalism in popular art forms that they will never accept from the avant gardes of "high" art. Benjamin was writing in the era of Eisenstein. A lot of cut-ups have made it into the gallery since then. Audiences at Tate Modern seem pretty schooled to expect everything pre-deconstructed in the museum. The most interesting thing now about Benjamin's argument is that it also works the other way around. It is conversely true that the idea of the classics, the greats, the old masters, is universally accepted in pop music when it is nowadays widely spat on in the sphere of contemporary high art.
I've been listening to some 1960s favourites. The Beatles' Norwegian Wood, the Rolling Stones' Ruby Tuesday, a bit of The Incredible String Band. I hasten to add that I was only four when the 60s ended. I wasn't at Altamont or anything. But when I was a teenager, much later, it was obvious that rock music had reached a peak of imagination and brilliance in the 1960s – and it's still obvious. Does anyone dispute that? More crucially, does anyone think it trashes today's music to say so? There is a maturity, a common sense about critics and consumers of popular music that is totally absent from the high arts. No one thinks it demeans Lady Gaga to admire Madonna.
There is a sense of history in the appreciation of pop that completely eludes today's debates about art. It is clear to everyone that golden ages of rock'n'roll have existed in the past and produced enduring classics: it's a historical fact, and to deny the greatness of an old song such as Sweet Jane would be to deny the worth of the art form as such. So why can't fans of contemporary art accept similarly obvious historical facts, such as the enduring freshness and immediacy of the Renaissance and Baroque painters? And the fact that Matisse and Picasso are the Beatles and Stones of modern art?
See where I'm headed? There are classics and there is the new. The new is always worth hearing and worth seeing – you never know when and where the next genius will come from. But you don't help give birth to the new by ignorance of what went before. Rock has a sense of tradition that has been broken in our museums. Keith Richards has a great private library of the blues. He cares for it and catalogues it. He is proud to archive a heritage.
They should have made him the new director of Tate Modern.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - Unseen Swells: Why rock stars should become aristocrats
In this previously unseen blog from 2008, Swells imagines a future in which Earl Lemmy of Killmister and Viscount Morrissey go tearing through the opium dems of Soho
With speculation rife about which formerly foul-mouthed and rebellious rockers will be herded into the sheep pens of bourgeois conformity by being made knights of the realm, those of us who still cling to the ridiculous and antiquated notion that RAWK! should be the province of glue-sniffing scamps sporting arseless trousers, blasphemous T-shirts and hairstyles designed to frighten both the wives and horses of the propertied classes, are faced with a dilemma as to how to react.
Should we nod cynically at further proof that rock wears The Man's bollocks as chin chachkas? Or should we push on through, push on through, push on through to the other side?
Let me explain. You are John Lydon – top folk devil. You get a phonecall from Gordon Brown asking if you want to become Sir John Lydon – bastion of society. You are torn.
On the one hand you are Puck – the living heart and soul of the Viking-Dickensian theme-park hellhole that is Britain. And there is nothing more stupidly British than the honours system. Besides which, J Rotten Esq becoming Sir J Rotten would be the punkest joke ever, the culmination of sexpistolery. Even more so than that time you fought the giant ostriches wearing a hat containing ostrich food on I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.
On the other hand, you'd be a sell-out. You would literally be sucking the Queen's cock. What to do? Easy. Push on through to the other side.
Rock stars who are made de facto aristos by a vampiric British establishment eager to drain alternative culture of its life blood and herd its most famous exponents into the Dunrockin' retirement home of dusty respectability should take a leaf out of the judo book and use the establishment's weight against it. AJIMI!
In short, rockers forced to become aristocrats should call the establishment's bluff and become aristocrats with an obscene gusto. Not the spavined buffoons of the Wodehousian imagination, but the revenge-crazed thugs of the century following the Restoration. Proper aristocrats. Peasant-thrashing, port-blasted, opiate-addled, gout-stricken, devil-worshipping, priest-punching, oik-torturing, fox-slaughtering, whore-rodgering, milk maid-seducing, chimney-sweep fellating, nun-bumming, substance-hoovering, cravat-sporting, devil fuck pigs of the first order – the modern reincarnation of that ultimate gang of cads, swine and rotters: the infamous Hell Fire Club.
They should roam the streets of Chelsea and Soho, going from opium den to card game to brothel to music hall in huge dressed-like-Adam-Ant-circa-Prince-Charming mobs, shooting pistols, punching out cabbies, breaking street lamps, chasing off the peelers with ornate, jewelled sword sticks, worshipping the devil and damning the eyes of the middle classes for their blasted insolence.
Sir Bono, Sir Cliff, Sir Tom Jones, Sir Him Out of Coldplay, Sir Steve Jones, The Right Hon Phil Collins, Lord Jagger of Weston Super Mare, Count McCartney, the Marquis of Glastonbury, Lord Knebworth, Earl Lemmy of Killmister, Viscount Morrissey and so forth. The New Hell Fire club. A stain on society, shame of the nation and a major tourist attraction, rolling into hell in a spunk, shit and dried-virgin's-blood-smeared hand basket woven from gold filigree by the savagely flogged sex slaves on Lord James Blunt's extensive Berkshire estate.
The Who got it wrong. The Man isn't going to fade away. The only way for rock to defeat The Man is to become The Super Man. And thus become The Man's worst nightmare.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - We Are Scientists present … the rules of wine
Barely know your red wine from your yellow? No idea how to make a shiraz slushie? Then read on to find out all you need to know about brewski (er, that's wine)
Consider this a simple guide to achieving fluency in all things oenophilic. The world of wine is a complex and rewarding one. By taking account of a few simple precepts, you can become a "wino" – a charmed, bon mot-slinging sophisticate with entrée into society's most exclusive clubs and factions, for whom dullness is the only impossibility.
Know your varietals
There are two basic types, or "varietals", of wine: red and yellow. Not surprisingly, there are different words for red and yellow wine in different countries. The French call them "bordeaux" and "sancerre", respectively. The Australians say "shiraz" and "chardonnay"; Italians, "nero d'avolo" and "pinot grigio." Germans, refreshingly, call everything "riesling". It isn't necessary to memorise all of these terms, but wielding them is a neat trick, and one that's respected by wine enthusiasts.
Know the preparations
Popular misconception has it that expensive wine shouldn't be served on ice – actually, it's best that way. For a poolside treat or a festive evening cocktail, try a wine slushie: blend expensive red wine and ice, and salt the rim of the glass (extra points from your snootier guests if you use sea salt). Kids love ice lollies made from expensive yellow wine and pineapple juice. To kick it up several notches, pour several bottles of expensive yellow wine into a hot tub, and freak out in there.
Know your history
Grasping wine's history is essential to blending in with aggressive oenophiles. A crash course: Jesus invented wine several thousand years ago. As the story goes, he was at a shitty gathering, and suddenly he began peeing into cups – filling them right to the brim – and also spitting blood into cups. He filled cup after cup, some with pee and some with blood, till it was obvious to anyone keeping track that there was no way his body could still have pee or blood in it – and yet he continued to pee and spit blood. Eventually, Jesus stopped spitting long enough to announce that people should "Drink! Drink!". Reluctantly they did, and found, with relief, that Jesus's pee and blood tasted unlike any pee or blood they had ever tasted.
Know how to talk wine
Often frustrating for wine amateurs is the language that aficionados use to describe the taste, appearance, and general quality of a bottle. They usually feel liberated upon learning that there's no specific lexicon awaiting memorisation. Sounding legit is simply about being creative and having fun. "This wine tastes sweet, watery and a little like sulfur" is a boring and transparently amateurish way of describing wine. The aficionado says instead: "She's skittish and distant, but was brought up in a good household – that's clear – although lately has meddled with devil worship." Good all-purpose adjectives that can be applied to any wine include: theoretical, divisive, provisional, agnostic, eukaryotic, gallant, organised, omnipresent, believable, in attendance, vulval, and motivated. How do those in the know refer to wine generally? The most popular nicknames are brewski, "a sixer", Jesus juice, snow melt, Trésor, Texas tea, and la violencia.
Know your reference points
Today wine plays a more important role in society than ever before. Be on the lookout for wine's frequent appearances in popular culture and be ready to discuss them with prospective wine buddies. Some highlights from the last 12 months include:
Victoria Beckham (née Beckman) said the Spice Girls loved to drink wine sometimes.
Ex-PM Gordon Brown was never seen on TV with "red wine teeth", thus losing the election.
Stephen Fry, the popular television host, told a story involving red wine.
We Are Scientists' fourth album, Barbara, is out this week.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать
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