We’re all going on a summer holiday

Most of you will be struggling to get the zip around your suitcase about now, scurrying excitedly around the house throwing in last-minute items and with the prospect of sandy beaches, exotic cuisine, bronzed bodies and two weeks away from the boss bouncing around your head. And, as you lug your 20kgs into the boot of your Mondeo, then I deplore you to spare a though for poor old Gordon Brown.

After trundling along with little incident for more than a decade, the wheels have finally flown off the New Labour movement quiet spectacularly. It all started about this time last year with a series of plagues of Biblical proportions. Firstly, unprecedented rainfall led to Gloucestershire, Oxfordshire and parts of Yorkshire disappearing under water and shortly after foot and mouth disease ripped across the south of England causing a wave of panic in the farming industry and redoubling the French’s intention never to buy British meat.

Cutting short his family holiday in Dorset, Brown charged back to London to chair a series of reactive meetings, popping up hourly on national news bulletins and resembling Corporal Jones from Dad’s Army, by imploring people ‘Don’t panic!’ However, those of us who suspected that a procession of black cats must have passed in front of Brown as he passed under a ladder were given more evidence of his misfortune in the autumn.

He failed to dismiss the possibility of calling a general election in October, before wobbling approval ratings in national opinion polls seemingly got the better of him. He decided, wrongly, to leave the matter to rest for a little while. ‘Bottler Brown,’ bellowed the press, miserable at being denied the jump in sales that is usually excited by an election. The reaction of David Cameron, Conservative leader and Oxford University port-drinking specialist, if anything was worse, as he taunted the Prime Minister over the despatch box:

‘I tell you what, if you’ve got some questions about our policy, find a bit of courage, discover a bit of bottle, get in your car, go down to Buckingham Palace and call that election,’ he demanded at Prime Minister’s Questions, whilst Gordon Brown glared at him, seemingly caught in a fit of combustible anger and chewing on some recently invented gum.

It didn’t get any better. The following month, 25 million people’s personal information was lost in the post when a minor employee thought it wise to copy the data of child benefits claimants to a CD and pop it in the internal post. Meanwhile the global economy began to resemble something like a Welsh mudslide.

Add to this the April tax revolt by Labour back-bench MPs, who were dismayed at Labour inverting the Robin Hood principles and taxing the poor to give to the rich and the fact that a 42 day detention bill scraped through the House of Commons last month, and you can surmise that the past year has been an increasingly difficult one for Brown.

In the meantime, they have lost the seats of Crewe and Nantwich to the Conservatives (with Edward Timpson the new MP increasing his share of the vote by 16.9%) and Glasgow East which had been a Labour-controlled constituency since Noah’s Arch ran aground.

Now Mr Brown is taking his wife on a British ‘Bucket and Spade,’ holiday. Due to the emergence of last year’s floods, it will be the first substantial holiday that Mr Brown has enjoyed since he became Prime Minister. So, as he heads off to Southwold in Suffolk and later on to the Scottish coast, remember that however tiresome your tasks at work may be, Mr Brown can trump you in one.

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Tags: Digital TV, Politics by Peter Moore
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The seven essential ingredients

As musical styles fuse and merge and hybrid genres emerge, it can become ever more difficult to draw out the common elements of a perfect song. But, like brewing the perfect pint, manufacturing an irresistible sports car or brewing the perfect pot of tea, writing a flawless rock song requires the presence of a number of essential ingredients. If I am going to be precise, then you require the presence of seven vital components.

Firstly and indisputably, you need to have at least one electric guitar, one electric bass guitar, a set of drums and a vocalist. You can argue at length on the specific equipment required (Gibson vs. Fender guitars, Marshall amps?), but it is clear that you will at least need to be plugged in to a power source, the sound has to be amplified and the vocalist needs to be behind a microphone. Some left-field thinking would suggest that keyboards are also an essential element, I’d disagree. Although the keyboard can augment the sound and add to the melody, it is hardly ‘essential’ and is better considered as ‘optional.’ A little like adding sugar to tea perhaps.

Secondly you need a riff. If this appears as technical jargon to some, then it is better explained as a repetitive sequence of single notes played on a guitar (and/or the bass). Just think of Heartbreaker by Led Zeppelin, Day Tripper by The Beatles or Walk this Way by Aerosmith. The wandering bass riff from the White Stripes Seven Nation Army is one that has become popular in the last few years and has been oddly adopted by Italian football fans, another is the echoing sea-saw riff featured at the start of The Raconteur’s Level.

Thirdly is the need for a big chorus, a towering crescendo to follow the whimsical verses. Perhaps you could nominate Meatloaf’s Like a Bat Out of Hell as an example of an imperious chorus, or Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA. Oddly, here the meaning of the lyrics takes second place in importance to the general sound and impact. Some of the biggest choruses in history have been filled with trite lyrics (think of Coldplay’s Speed of Sound), but work due to power of their delivery. If you get the chorus wrong though, the whole song may as well be assigned to the rubbish heap.

Fourthly, a good simple melody is essential for the chorus and verses, usually alternating between the two. This is usually when the hidden success of a song lies. If you have a gift for brain-sapping melodies like Kurt Cobain or John Lennon, then the rest usually falls neatly into place. Just watch a copy of Klaxons Golden Skans if you are looking for an example of an irresistible melody.

Fifthly is a guitar solo. This can come in various guises, from the Slash-from-Guns-and-Roses approach which sees a flurry of pentatonic notes, to something more minimal as found with John Frusciante’s efforts on The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Give it Away which is little more than a fuzzy collection of single notes. This is the part of the song where the musicians and their music are at their narcissistic best, throwing their heads, bodies and instruments around in defiance of Isaac Newton.

Sixthly is the mastery of the loud/quiet aesthetic: a quiet musing verse is followed by a ravenous grandmother-gobbling chorus full of fizz and fuzz. Nirvana were the band that brought this technique into prominence during the early 1990s with their song Smells Like Teen Spirit, and it has been repeated to rippling success by bands ever since. Just think of The Raconteurs and Steady as She Goes or Blur’s Song 2. Of course Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix and company managed without it in the sixties and seventies, but in the early twenty first century, it has become an fundamental part of the mix.

Finally, dream up some repetitive lyrics. This is rock music: it is supposed to be brash, bold and capable of bashing you on the head with a bottle of lager, it is not whimsical or musing. That is much better left to the Elliott Smith’s, Bob Dylan’s and Nick Drake’s of our times. The listener needs something that is going to grab them by the earlobes and drag them over to the speaker. It doesn’t matter if the lyrics are as emotionally deep as a puddle, or if they go ‘WooHoo’ (ask Blur), the most important thing is that they bore their way into the skull and stay there for good.

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Digital television offers an array of music channels, including additional coverage from festivals across the UK, extended BBC sessions and a host of different genres. Find out more about digital television and the realities of the digital switchover today.

Tags: Digital TV, Music by Peter Moore
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Shall God not search this out?

Camped upon a sun-soaked beach and hidden under a parasol, most people will find for the first time this year that they are free to indulge in a book. So where should you start? Well, the publishing industry is churning away trying to serve up a replacement for Harry Potter, whose fate was finally decided last summer and, looking around, there is certainly plenty to choose from.

Last week The Suspicions of Mr Whicher: or the Murder at Road Hill House was awarded the Samuel Johnson Prize; and if you are looking for beautifully conceived and written piece of non-fiction, then this book could be perfect for your holidays.

Kate Summerscale’s book revisits the story of a brutal murder, committed in a quiet English village during the height of the summer of 1860. It was a graphic, cold blooded deed that sent waves of shock across an appalled Victorian society. Those that fell under suspicion were the family and the servants of the victim – for they, as Detective Inspector Jonathan Whicher of Scotland Yard supposed, were the only ones with the means to commit the foul deed.

Summerscale’s book is a wonderful evocation of a rich period of British history. The rise of a national police force and a growing interest of criminal motivations and psyche accompanied the case which in turn sparked a wave of detective fever. Those influenced by the case included the novelist Charles Dickens and it proved a catalyst for the development of detective fiction, or which Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes is the most famous.

Your summer holidays could provide you with the perfect opportunity to play detective yourself. Are the suspicions of Mr Whicher correct? Who was capable of committing such a gruesome murder as the one that was found at Road Hill House? Summerscale unravels the plot with rare talent and a beautiful eye for dialogue, drawing the reader into the story with cloaked clues and revealing anecdotes. Harry Potter may have gone, but with The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, you can comfort yourself in another improbable but darkly seductive tale.

Tags: Digital TV by Peter Moore
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Bad back or bad bourbon?

Most people will remember the laughing policeman, his wobbling belly laugh booming out from a 12”, drawing a grin from even the most miserable members of society. Now, thanks to the eastern European country Belarus, we now have an equally memorable character: the drunken referee.

If you think along similar lines to me, then you will probably assume that a little exercise and some stretches are the perfect preparation for refereeing a football match – add perhaps a little slow burning fuel like a banana and in modern parlance, ‘you’re ready to rock.’

Footage that has reached Britain on the Internet suggests, however, that a Belorussian referee had a little more stimulation than a pre-match banana. Staggering about the centre circle, his back arched backwards and his eyes to the Heavens, Sergei Shmolik cut a figure more reminiscent of Basil Fawlty than Pierluigi Collina.

It was after the half time interval during a league match between FC Vitebsk and FC Naftan Novopolotsk, on 5^th July when Mr Shmolik emerged onto the pitch with a wobble. Speculation is rife in the media that the official may have indulged in a spot of alcohol during the half time interval and his ignominious exit from the pitch, flanked by an official, seems to support this theory. Despite his difficulties, Mr Shmolik, in good humour, managed a royal wave to the crowd before he disappeared into the tunnel. One hopes that it will not be for the final time.

However, as an Englishman after 1966, I find it difficult to criticise Russian (or Belorussian) referees. The vicious chants of 20,000 supporters are quite enough to drive anyone to the bottle. For his part, Mr Shmolik cited the pain of a bad back as the reason for his mazy retreat. In any case, I hope he will be officiating once again soon

Tags: Digital TV, Sport by Peter Moore
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A glorious summer of ‘fiestas’ awaits

Just one week ago, the streets of Central London bubbled with the sight of thousands of Spanish football fans celebrating on the streets. Fast forward seven days and Rafael Nadal has fuelled the festivities once more, emerging victorious after a titanic tussle with Roger Federer as the new Wimbledon Gentleman’s Champion. What better time has there been to be Spanish?

The atmosphere around the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club fizzed with anticipation early yesterday afternoon before the final began. Nadal had powered his way through subsequent rounds, dismissing opponents with a shrug of his shoulders and with the clout of Optimus Prime. Waiting in the final, however, was the imperious Roger Federer. The artist of the tennis court. Quite capable of winning a tennis match whilst washing his hair.

Nadal started auspiciously. Taking the few opportunities to arise he soon led Roger Federer by two clear sets. Then, in a potent cocktail of British weather, Swiss determination and excellent tennis, the nature of the match changed. Federer was able to take full advantage of the intermittent rain delays and clawed back two sets, both on tie-breaks.

The fifth and deciding set took the players almost two hours to complete. Federer giving hope to his supporters, that included Gavin Rossdale and Gwen Stefani, that he might complete one of Wimbledon’s most memorable comebacks. In a set which could be portentous for the immediate future of men’s tennis, Nadal emerged victorious. The end finally coming at almost ten minutes past nine when Federer slapped a forehand into the net and Nadal crumpled on the ground in celebration.

The world’s press quickly adopted a uniform opinion as the players accepted their awards from the Duke of Kent. ‘The biggest match!’, claimed the Spanish newspaper Marca. Erstwhile champions John McEnroe and Boris Becker agreed, claiming that it was the ‘best match’ they have ever seen.

An exhausted Nadal told press: ‘It’s impossible to describe. I’m just very happy. It’s unbelievable for me to have the title here at Wimbledon. It’s a dream. Always as a kid I dreamed of playing here.’

Federer was magnanimous in defeat, perhaps buoyed slightly by the fact that he remains the world’s top seeded player. ‘It’s my hardest loss by far,’ he confessed. ‘I’m happy that we lived up to expectations, but right now it’s not much of a good feeling.’

Boris Becker, summing up with day’s action, was warm in his appreciation of both of the players. ‘We were watching two of the greatest players to have played this beautiful game of tennis… the rankings may still have Federer as number one but it’s only a matter of time before Nadal takes over.’

The scene is set perfectly for a scrap between these two young tennis players that may last for the next few years. It promises to be a gripping fight.

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Tags: BBC, Digital TV, Sky, Sport by Peter Moore
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Many viewers left ‘in the dark’

The many the ‘Digital Switchover’ is a puzzling concept, its significance diluted amongst a thousand Blairite sound-bites. And can you really blame people? ‘Education, Education, Education’; ‘Hearts and Minds’;’ Special Relationship’; ‘Prudence’ and now ‘Competence’ – is it at all surprising that people are failing to draw the meaning out of words anymore?

I say this, because a recent parliamentary report has claimed that ‘many viewers do not understand the implications of the digital switchover’, despite the efforts of a £200m campaign. The statistics are unequivocal. Of all of the television sets sold in the first half of 2007, over half of them were analogue. In total it is estimated that there are 26 million analogue televisions in existence that will need replacing.

Whitehaven became the first place to fall under the glimmer of digital television on 14 November last year. In that town, on the north western Cumbrian coast, it is now only possible to watch television on broadband, Freeview, Sky, satellite or cable. Like a pack of cards, the rest of Britain is poised to follow suit over the next four years. The problem is that many remain in blissful ignorance.

Once the analogue signal is switched off permanently, viewers will only be able to receive a digital signal unless they pay for expensive extra equipment. The upshot of this is – that people across the country need to begin to consider what digital service they would like to opt for in the future.

Sky and Freeview are the two most prominent options available. Sky with its array of programming and effortless programming quality and Freeview boasts a quick-fix connection to the digital signal and comes with a cart load of free-to-air channels. Other companies have joined the mix – and currently Virgin Media, BT, Tiscali and Setanta are amongst a cluster of companies offering attractive digital packages.

Meanwhile the report suggests that the government have to do more to make the population aware of the impending change. Specifically, it suggested that the digital tick that signified whether or not a product was suitable for the digital changeover remained a ‘mystery’ to many sales staff and customers.

Therefore it is clear that the facts surrounding the digital switchover will have to be better promoted – otherwise viewers quite simply could be caught in the fuzz and forced into a last minute upgrade.

Tags: Digital TV, Sky, Switchover, Virgin by Peter Moore
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