Shakespeare I believe is made a little difficult for most to access because of all the complex academic discourse built up around his work. I remember in school that more focus was place on the way Shakespeare switched from prose to poetry, use of certain words, similes, metaphors, etc, with some focus on the themes of his plays. This completely bored the the pants off me and my fellow teenage classmates, who were usually more interested in the actual story. We were enthralled by the goriness of Macbeth, and the comeuppance that awaited the eponymous villain, whilst in S5, the girls were caught up in the romance of Romeo and Juliet, which might have been helped by our teacher putting on the Leonardo Di Caprio and Claire Danes version for us to watch! That and she also pointed out and explained some of the filthy jokes, to some of my schoolmates glee.
I didn't think much of The Merchant of Venice, which we covered in S3, but then, every genius has a turkey now and then!
Hamlet is the first Shakespearean play I've picked up purely to enjoy without having to study it for something and just be able to enjoy as a story. I somehow get the impression that's what Shakespeare was after himself - the story as pure entertainment for the masses, with the added benefit of being able to drop in a filthy joke or twenty, and the opportunity to poke fun at the establishment and the inanity of humanity. The other half I think has mentioned at some point that Shakespeare wrote as a populist. This was probably driven home more for the non-literati like myself in The Shakespeare Code in series 3 of new Doctor Who. I think that this has made me interested in having another look at Shakespeare. Of course, the fact that the now ex - Doctor David Tennant took on the role of Hamlet in 2008, (after ascertaining that there would definitely be no full series of Doctor Who in 2009) also gave me a push. I can't help but wonder if this has happened to others who might otherwise have not looked at Shakespeare at all. Hamlet was the obvious choice to begin with.
Apart from being thrown at times by the language used, which I put down to the 400 year gap between Hamlet being written and me reading it, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I overcame language difficulties with the commentary at the back of my copy and annoying the English Lit graduate I'm betrothed to. I also wanted to read it before watching the Tennant in action in the Boxing Day broadcast of his Hamlet so I would be able to follow it. Of course, I am yet to watch the video as the other half has put it somewhere and not told me (subtle hint).
I was struck by how much the plot resembled the storyline of a contemporary soap, though not many soaps these days focus on the Danish Royal Family, so we can take that as a minor aberration!
Pretty much what we have is this: a ghost is scaring the Palace guards, and is recognised as the recently departed king of Denmark. His son, the prince Hamlet is alerted to this and ends up having a wee chat with the ghost. He finds out that his father was murdered by his uncle, Claudius, who has since gone on to take the crown and married Hamlet's mother Gertrude to boot. Hamlet is already a little peeved at his mother remarrying his uncle, and only a few months after his father's death, so becomes incensed at the murder and swears revenge.
However, it takes Hamlet a long time to actually get around to this. In the meantime, things go a tad pear-shaped. Hamlet pretends he's mad, loses the girl he loves, Gertrude, and then gives his loving uncle a hint that he knows what's happened by getting a troupe of travelling players to essentially re-enact the murder. The end result is that Claudius arranges for Hamlet to be taken to England to be 'dealt' with. Hamlet lets his mother know what has been going on, upbraids her for marrying the murderer of her late husband, then accidentally kills Polonius, Ophelia's father, who conveniently hid behind the tapestry in the Queen's room to eavesdrop.
Things speed up after this. Ophelia goes decidedly barking mad after Hamlet is sent off to England (under the auspices of banishment, etc for Polonius' death). Laertes, Ophelia's brother, and son of Polonius, comes home from France screaming for blood at his father's demise, only to be made more desperate for revenge when he sees Ophelia's insanity and her subsequent death (quite a few cark it in this). Hamlet, in the meantime has thwarted his own demise as plotted by Claudius, and been captured by pirates on his way back from England. The pirates realise they have much to gain by treating Hamlet well as he is a prince, so he gets home. Claudius finds out after getting a letter from Hamlet, and plots for Laertes to kill Hamlet in a duel with the use of a poisoned sword. Claudius also helpfully provides some poisoned wine as a back up. And you can guess where this is going....
So the duel takes place. And it goes wrong. The queen drinks the poisoned wine meant for Hamlet, and both Laertes and Hamlet end up stabbing each other with the poisoned sword in a scuffle. The queen dies. Laertes realised he's been used, that Claudius is a git and forgives Hamlet. Then he dies. Hamlet stabs Claudius with the poisoned sword, and makes him drink the poisoned wine for good measure. Then Claudius dies. Hamlet is very much on his own last legs at this point, and has just been handed the crown of Denmark. He names the prince of Norway as his successor. Then the hero of the piece kicks the bucket.
Not a touch like Corrie or Eastenders at all really!
Not been able to blog lately due to unforeseen circumstances, namely my brother being attacked and left severely injured whilst out one night in November. He has made some recovery, so blogging can begin!
A was placed on my week a few days ago when one of our clients from Unity slashed himself in the Home Office in protest (and no doubt frustration) at the length of time his case is taking. It's crazy that people feel they have to do stuff like this to get their point across. I'm beginning to get the impression from things I've read in the news and seen at Unity that the government is more interested in fulfilling their precious stats than the actual human cases, something I also believe is fuelled by the crap put out by the likes of The Daily Mail that portrays asylum seekers as 'spongers wanting to take advantage of British generosity' or whatever their latest bile is.
It drives me mad. The impact of this stuff is devastating for the people involved, case in point up above with the guy who slashed himself. Add to that the ridiculous amount of red tape and bureaucracy people have to jump through in pursuing their asylum cases and cowboy lawyers too lazy to a job properly and out to make a quick buck. Add to the inefficiency of the system - wrong information from one case being added to another wrongly, which can seriously scupper things. For instance, one guy I'm trying to help currently in detention who can't be removed to his country of origin as they refuse to recognise him as a citizen and who won't take him back. He has applied for bail umpteen times, but has been refused on the grounds that he absconded, which he didn't. His case worker also got the sack, and though he's since been given a new one, it appears he's just been left to rot in detention. It's not helped that he also has PTSD due to torture and this is getting worse because he's in detention. The stupidity of it all is beyond belief.
At the same time I do recognise there are opportunistic cases, such as the recent case of two British fascists wanted by the long arm of the law in England, applying to the US for asylum. They did get rejected. I think these situations are in the minority. There are genuine cases on the go where all someone wants is to be safe and get away from the nightmare they face back home. We see them in the centre, with folk frustrated beyond words and bursting into tears. It seems to me that the UKBA persecutes people for the 'cheek' of wanting to live somewhere safe instead of putting up with torture, civil war, the risk of death, violence and sexual abuse on the grounds of ethnicity, gender, politics and/or sexual orientation. It's that simple. People just want to be able to live safely. Yet it's easier said than done.
So, the UK postal system has come to a standstill because the little darlings that work for Royal Mail aren't happy about something, throwing their dummies out the pram and gone on strike. I do find it laughable. Striking for conditions etc? It should be the public striking thanks to the shoddy service provided. I don't trust the Post Office as far as I could fling it. Stuff always seems to be getting lost. And the amount of times I've fallen over a pile of mail left outside the close (some letters being ripped open by opportunistic passers-by as a result) because the postie couldn't get in and didn't bother bringing it back the next day. Not to mention the few times we've seen a postie helping themselves to our mail! Of course, not all are like that, but there are those who give the rest a bad name.
So my job hunting is slightly up the swanney as I can't post anything out as it wouldn't arrive on time. Aside from that, I've had interview invitations not arrive till very late, or in the case of The Boy, not arrive at all and potential jobs lost as a consequence. At the end of last week, he got an email from a potential employer who seemed to be from a parallell universe sending him an email late on Thursday night asking him to return the attached equal opportunities form by post first thing the next day. I don't think he was amused.
The part of me that really would like to get a job is thinking the time could be ripe for applying for one of the many temp jobs with the PO to cover the industrial unrest and xmas (though I get the impression they are now filled); the leftie mild Marxist part of me is not wanting to be a 'scab' and my inner big feartie doesn't fancy racing for safety through the streets of Glasgow, pursued by burly striking postal staff yelling 'scab' and wanting to kick seven shades out of me. I think the inner big feartie wins!
They say the older generation are not appreciated these days by the young, and cast by the wayside. This isn't the case for Michael and myself. Both of us are of the opinion that we have rather nifty grandparents who seem to get up to all sorts of mischief. Michael holds his own in rather high regard, and is often sharing anecdotes about his late grandfathers. Let's just say Barrhead has to be a duller place without the indomitable George Collins! And perhaps this might encourage him to post his own blog with such tales. But what about my own grandparents? They all have a similar strength of spirit and quirk of character, that is worth preserving for posterity. So in no particular order and all that:
'Jean the Haricot Bean'
My mum's mum, known to all of my generation of the family as Gran, went by the rather impressive moniker Jane Anne Paterson Hunter Henderson. Everyone called her Jean, Haricot being a nickname I suspect my Grampsie gave her. Sadly, she passed away in 2004, but left behind memories that I'm sure will be passed on for some time yet.
Like all my grandparents, Gran was only in her forties when I was born. It is perhaps this that her youthful vigour can be put down to. Quite simply, she was slightly mad, but in a good way. She was probably the only grandmother amongst my associates who could go on a night out with you and dance you off the floor. Additionally, Gran was well known for her singing voice, and every party had at my grandparents house, it was compulsory for everyone to get up and do a song, in traditional Glasgow fashion. However, it was Gran who was the piece de resistance and the headliner. She was a small woman, at only '5 feet, one and a half inches' (her words), but she certainly had a set of lungs on her and could 'gie it laldy'. Her song was The Wonder of You, which would be sang with great gusto, her daughters on backing vocals and my Grampsie plinking away on his keyboard. I don't think a Henderson party was a Henderson party til she got up and did her piece.
Another thing I remember Gran for were her bizarre turns of phrase, the most memorable being "You'll get yer heid in yer hons tae play with" for anyone who was getting up to mischief. The first time she said this to me, I did a double take. When someone was ill, they were often told by Gran "It's far fae yer arse, ye'll no sit oan it." And to anyone was tired - "Ye've goat eyes like pissholes in the snow." It has to be said, Gran wasn't someone to be crossed and didn't suffer fools. She might have been wee, but she was scary when she got going - I can easily picture my six foot plus tall brother cowering as he got a ticking off from our Gran who came up to his shoulder.
I think one of my most enduring memories of her is once when we went shopping with my aunt. I must have been about eleven at the time. There we were in the old Pollock Centre (now Silverburn), walking along, when all of a sudden over the piped music came a 1950s rock n roll classic. The 1950s were the teenage heyday for Gran. Suddenly, surrounded by lots of other shoppers, Gran started jiving...
'The One Man Band`
My grandfather, husband of Gran, is 72 going on 17. These days he resides out in Eaglesham with his mad Westie Toby, enjoys bowling and going along to 'the club'. He is known to us lot as Grampsie. He enjoys the horse racing, and the football, getting royally pissed off if I call him during a game. In the family, his cooking is legendary, as are his musical abilities. He was in a skiffle band back in the day, and can play piano by ear. He has his own music room in his house where he plays his keyboards, or bashes about on an old guitar I gave him, Toby often sitting next to him howling along. Grampsies favourite band is Queen, though he is also partial to a bit of Paul Anka.
Wherever Grampsie goes, he normally starts tapping his hand on any available surface, stamping his feet and sings whatever happens to pop into his head. It can be a fairly entertaining experience. Once when I was living with my aunt, I was tidying up the kitchen and playing the Grease soundtrack. Grampsie came in for his daily cup of tea (and Toby his daily bark - the dog thinks it's human), and immediately started dancing, tapping and singing along to Greased Lightening . I had to make him a copy of the CD.
Grampsie is also quite hard of hearing, and things need to be loud for him to listen. So picture the scene at my brothers 21st birthday party. A rather dodgy DJ had been hired. This was someone who played what he wanted to listen to, treating it as if he was having a record session in his own home. Thus we were treated to very loud, very trashy dance music. Imagine Michael's glee, when Grampsie, after uttering some choice swear words, got up and told the DJ to turn it down so he could hear himself think. And down it stayed til Grampsie wandered through to the bar and the DJ thought himself safe.
'Ronnie Corbetts No.1 Fan'
My Grandma might be thought of as a quiet wee soul, which in some ways is correct. She is a beacon of sanity in many aspects, but at times has her moments. My dad's mum, Grandma resides in Paisley, and can be described as rightly proud of her Irish roots, of which she has taught me all about. Grandma was the youngest of nine kids, her mother, Sarah coming from Ballyshannon in Donegal and father, Thomas, coming from Ayrshire. She has lived in Paisley all her life and seems to be a proud 'Buddy'.Additionally she also financed my travel to and from uni in the last two years of my degree, so has a rightful claim on my degree scroll!
Grandma has come out with a few lines in the last few years, stopping me in my tracks on many an occassion. For your edification:
During a telephone conversation in which the tennis was mentioned, Grandma informed me she enjoyed watching Wimbledon because she thought Andy Murray had nice legs.
Apparently had a thing for Ronnie Corbert that used to freak her kids out. Karen-Anne, my aunt, and Grandmas only daughter, reckons it might be a thing of the past. I'm not so sure...
Also thought Jeremy Clarkson was quite nice too until he happened to be disparaging of Gordon Brown as a 'one eyed Scottish fool'. As a Scot, Grandma was rightly offended.
And let's not forget Engelbert Humperdink.
Grandma also has little time for computers and the internet and gets a tad fed up when I show Karen Anne how to do something on her laptop, resulting in us both getting rather involved. I recently suggested Grandma take a beginners computer course at the local library, enabling her to be a 'silver surfer' and also keep in touch with far flung family members via email. She actually seemed taken by it.
And so, the motto is, value your elders for the wisdom they provide and respect the fact they can likely outlast you at a party and deck you with a mean left hook if you are a scallywag!
As a teenager, I was quite a big fan of Boyzone, although I flitted on to other things when I got older. I can't really say 'grew out of' because it's patronising and my mum has since become a fan. Ronan was my favourite out of them, but I did have a big soft spot for Stephen. So I was very floored last night when at 3 AM the following conversation was had:
Michael: "Hey Mandy, you're a Boyzone fan aren't you?"
Me: "I was when I was younger."
Michael: "Stephen Gately's dead."
Me: "You what??????"
I suppose I could be of the not bothered camp, as this was someone I followed as a kid and might come under the giggly 'what were we like at that age' moniker. But I'm quite sad to hear he's gone. Also marginally freaked out by the fact he was healthy (you had to be to do those dance routines!) and only 33, yet he just went in his sleep. Only six years older than yours truly. I guess it's one of those things that when you're young you think you're never going to die (well, I tend to think of it as an event so long off it seems a bit mad), and when something like this happens, it is a massive shock and reminder that you never know when your number's up.
Stephen is regarded as significant also as one of the first major pop stars to come out as gay back in 1999. Doesn't seem like a big deal now really, but when you think back to what it was like then, only a few years after George Michael's arrest for cottaging, it is was quite significant. According to my mate Paul, Gately ended up coming out after a 'quality Sunday' rag was about to publish it's own 'exclusive' on his sexuality. Just goes to show how homophobic the press were a decade ago, and sad to see that sensationalist attitude still exists today in the media; for example David Tennant kissing John Barrowman at Comic Con in San Diego - The Sun had a field day. Like so what - Barrowman will snog anything that moves and Tennant, well what's the big deal about a straight guy kissing a gay guy? But I digress.
So, I guess I'm really taken aback that one of the guys from my teenybop era has just suddenly gone. Let's just hope the sensationalist media give Stephen's family, friends, partner and bandmates a break, not like they 'considerately' did for Matt Lucas after his ex, Kevin McGee, committed suicide. One rag had an article about it on their website, complete with pictures taken of David Walliams and Jack Dee going into Matts house to look after their mate. No wonder paps end up getting decked by celebrities!
I'd argue that since we started dating, Michael has been trying very hard to get me into Metallica, but didn't succeed til fairly recently. I put it down to him playing Welcome Home (Sanitarium) on one of his random playlists one evening and me going "OMG! THAT'S BRILLIANT! WHO IS IT?!" To which I got the usual mild sardonic Michael Stare, and the reply of "Metallica" in tones of, 'you really ought to know who that is, and by the way, didn't I tell you they were great?' I am really losing the battle here of telling Michael he has a dodgy taste in music. Well, there are in fact other artists he likes that are lousy, so maybe it balances out...
The whole getting into Metallica thing for me is kind of interesting. The last musician I got into in such a huge way was Rufus Wainwright a few years ago. Since then, I've been very hard to please when it came to music, though there have been a few bands I've gotten very partial to in the meantime such as Crowded House and INXS. I'll grant that Michael's absolute favourites,Big Country aren't bad either. I guess I've just been hanging out for the X-Factor, and I mean the proper X-Factor, not that tawdry excuse of a 'talent contest' on the box. But, then, I just happened to encounter the 'Tallica, and let's just say it's been a very happy musical love affair ever since. I mean ,Kirk Hammett has managed to usurp George Harrison as my all time favourite guitarist and they've just about toppled The Beatles as my Favourite Band, full stop. I apologise now for the gushing prose, but heck, I was a music journalist in my late teens, and to do that effectively, you need to be a bullshit merchant. I guess once a bullshit merchant, always a bullshit merchant!
I thought it would be an interesting exercise to go through some of the songs I've seriously gotten into in comparison to some and write my thoughts on them, as one is wont to do when they have a blog and have the chance to bat their gums on whatever they feel like. I have a feeling this might be an ongoing, if irregular, exercise. And hopefully won't lead to a heated debate til 4AM between me and The Boy over why I think some songs are great, while he reckons they're crap, henceforth known as 'The One Controversy', which can be explained as thus: One is a Metallica track highly regarded by the vast majority of fans, though one I don't feel acquainted enough with to comment on, but my general impression so far is that it's great. Michael thinks it's over-rated rubbish.
Without much further ado:
Nothing Else Matters
Could be counted under The One Controversy. I have to say, it's my favourite. It's one of those songs you hear for the first time and it completely blows your socks off. Actually, I got a bit emotional first time I heard it. Yes. I can be a complete Girl at times (how many sexism accusations could this raise I wonder). What really cemented it for me was watching Metallica perform it at the 1999 S&M show, a clip I saw courtesy of YouTube, which I recommend to just about everyone:
I can't think what there's not to like about it. In fact Michael only dislikes it owing to teenage love gone wrong. It's not the kind of thing you reckon Metallica would do, but there you go. If anything, it shows how powerful a lyricist Hetfield is, and to me is a song about staying true to yourself, your beliefs and general chosen path in life. For example:
“So close no matter how far Couldn't be much more from the heart Forever trusting who we are And nothing else matters
Never opened myself this way Life is ours, we live it our way All these words I don't just say And nothing else matters
Trust I seek and I find in you Every day for us something new Open mind for a different view And nothing else matters”
Stories associated with it I've come across online is that Hetfield wrote it about a girlfriend (who he can't remember) whilst on tour and had no intention of recording it. Until Lars convinced him otherwise. These days, Metallica dedicate it to their fans, and it has been covered a few times. Most curiously enough by a group of Gregorian monks doing their chant thing!
All Nightmare Long
From the latest album "Death Magnetic", which isn't a) distorted and too loud (how the heck can Metallica be too loud!) or b) another miserable failure. The intro to this is the ringtone on my mobile - the effect of Robert Trujiillo's nifty bass riff on me. All Nightmare Long is one of Hetfield's little ventures into HP Lovecraft land (minus arguments between Cthulhu and the Flying Spaghetti Monster), along the lines of The Thing That Sleeps and The Call Of Ktulhu - though the latter is really an instrumental by Cliff Burton (RIP). Being a Lovecraft fan myself, this of course it something that appeals. The particular story this is based on is The Hounds of Tindalos by Frank Belnap Long, described by James Hetfield as a 'head****' (censored for the courtesy of family members who might happen to be reading!).
I read the story myself the other night. It's certainly a mind twister, but in a good way. Not quite on the weirdness level of Lovecraft though, but then, he is a special case. I watched the video to All Nightmare Long a few weeks ago - now that does fit Hetfield's description of The Hounds of Tindalos and quite possibly one of the maddest things I've ever seen. Link to the video here. Seriously, don't watch if you're scared easily. If you find mild horror hard to stomach, then I'd avoid, because it's quite extreme.
The Outlaw Torn
Doesn't fall under The One Controversy - Michael reckons it's one of the last classic Metallica songs.I'd figure it to be a little problematic to some of the more anal 'Tallica fans, purely by virtue of the fact that it's off the not very liked "Load" album. But then, people are fickle. This was also part of the S&M show. Hetfields vocals kick ass (I was going to say soar, but really!) and Kirk Hammett really churns out the guitar solo. I note that some fans on YouTube - I get much of my Metallica fix there when checking out live stuff - think this is the craziest guitar solo Hammett has ever played. He pretty much lets rip.
Welcome Home (Sanitarium)
Pretty much has to get mentioned as it's the song that hooked me. From “Master of Puppets”, this is off the last album that Cliff Burton ever worked on. I will explain who Cliff is eventually, I promise, for those getting a little puzzled. Nifty intro, and probably some of the bleakest lyrics I've ever heard. For instance:
"Welcome to where time stands still no one leaves and no one will Moon is full, never seems to change just labeled mentally deranged Dream the same thing every night I see our freedom in my sight No locked doors, No windows barred No things to make my brain seem scarred"
If Sylvia Plath lived an extra couple of decades and got her mitts on a Gretsch Flying V...
...probably completely killed that song for Michael now! He's not too fond of the first Mrs Ted Hughes to say the least.
The Call of Ktulu
First off, it's spelt Cthulhu and comes from, 'Ride The Lightning', and the bands first instrumental. According to Cliff Burton is responsible for introducing the rest of the group to the joys of Mr Lovecraft, the idea of the song allegedly coming from The Shadow Over Innsmouth (personally, I'm a little dubious, but open to being corrected) . The opening of this frankly awesome track is played by Cliff Burton, who to me played the bass like it was just another six string guitar. I've always thought of bass guitar as being a simple tack on affair to bolster the rhythm. Then I heard Cliff Burton. I was still a bit dubious about bass being able to sound that great, then I came across a live video of Cliff playing the opening riff to For Whom The Bell Tolls and I'm still eating my words.
So, Cliff Burton? For the uninitiated, Cliff was Metallicas second bassist, who replaced Ron McGovney. The story is that Lars Ulrich and James Hetfield were out to replace McGovney as they thought he was, frankly, shite. They saw Cliff play live one night, were rather blown away by him, in the words of James Hetfield:
"We heard this wild solo going on and thought, 'I don't see any guitar player up there.' It turned out it was the bass player, with a wah-wah pedal and this mop of hair. He didn't care whether there were people there. He was looking down at his bass, playing." James, Rolling Stone, 1993
After the gig, they went up to Cliff and said, “PleaseJoinOurBand! PleaseJoinOurBand!”, to which Cliff said no, but finally said yes at the end of 1982, on the basis the band relocated to San Francisco from Los Angeles. Needless to say, Lars etal made the flit. Cliff played on the first three Metallica albums. The group were starting to get huge, but sadly in August 1986 while on tour in Sweden, their tourbus crashed and Cliff was killed. He was 24 and is still missed like crazy to this day. The remaining band members weren't sure whether or not to go on, but got the blessing of Cliffs family and recruited Jason Newsted as bass player. He left the band rather acrimonously in 2001, and was replaced in 2003 by Robert Trujillo.
The Unforgiven I/II/III
I think this can best be described as a three parter. The first one appears on “The Black Album”, and is fair enough. I actually prefer no II from “Reload” (another disliked album). Again, it's a lyrics thing, not to mention the fact I think the entire song is greatly improved by having the electric guitar riff. Lyrics wise:
“Lay beside me Under wicked sky The black of day Dark of night We share this paralyze The door cracks open But there's no sun shining through Black heart scarring darker still But there's no sun shining through No, there's no sun shining through No, there's no sun shining
What I've felt What I've known Turn the pages Turn the stone Behind the door Should I open it for you? “
I like the turn of phrase. Blame it on a mixture of being raised on Bob Dylan and listening to John Lennons wackiness as heard in “Revolver” and I am the Walrus. Plus I just like a good lyric. The sentiment also appeals, probably because I've been through a few periods in my life where those lines would just fit. I think James Hetfield views the Unforgiven trilogy as a marker of his psychological state thanks to the crap he's been through, from the slightly mad childhood that left him a bit wonky, to his recovery from alcoholism. In the behind the scenes footage of “Death Magnetic” where the band are deciding the final songs to go on the album, he's emphatic that The Unforgiven III should be included as he says it shows a personal journey for him. Number III takes a completely different tune from the first two and isn't quite so heavy, in a light at the end of the tunnel. Or to put it another way, he's happier in his dotage, though at 46, he's not quite in his dotage! Either way, III is a pleasant, slightly melancholy, but lighter affair. I wonder if we'll see IV?
St Anger/Sweet Amber
No doubt the “St Anger” detractors will insist I get my head checked for this as that's seen as the worst album. Metallica were pretty messed up at the time, Newsted having just quit, the band infamously enlisting a therapist to help them work out their issues and Hetfield vanishing for several months to go into rehab for alcoholism. For the record, he's been sober since, and good on him. I just like the energy behind it, and the demented drumming. I have a history of panic attacks, and strange as it may seem, St Anger sums up pretty well the racket that goes on in my head when my anxiety is playing up. I guess Sweet Amber can be said to be the come down of it. Hetfields vocals, which are quite raw, also strike a nerve for me. A bit of Aristoteliancatharsis there for you.
Enter Sandman
Okay, having gone on for longer than I thought and on fewer songs than I envisaged, I'll make this the last one for now (it really is going to end up the blogger version of The Unforgiven I, II and III!) This again comes under The One Controversy between myself and my dearly beloved. He thinks it's overrated and overplayed. Probably doesn't help that I mess about playing the riff of it whenever I remember to practice guitar! For the record, this is ironically the song that got Michael into Metallica as it was used in ECW as The Sandmans theme (the former being a crazy, extreme pro-wrestling promotion that has been revived in recent years by the WWE, the latter an even crazier, drunken pro-wrestler who comes down to the ring guzzling beer before thwacking opponents with a Kendo stick). Anyone who knows Michael will know he is a huge wrestling fan and a walking, talking encyclopedia on the subject.
There's something darkly Roald Dahlish about it. I'd say Gaimanish too, but that might be a bit obvious given Neil Gaiman was the originator of the most successful comic strip of the 90s, The Sandman. It's like a black lullaby, the kind of thing you'd play to your kid if you had a cruel streak in you. In fact, knowing me, my own offspring are probably going to be the sort who'd love this being sung to them at the age of four! Again, the lyrics illustrate it best:
“Hush little baby, don't say a word And never mind that noise you heard Its just the beast under your bed, In your closet, in your head
Exit light Enter night Grain of sand
Exit light Enter night Take my hand We're off to never never land”
*The writer of this post was greatly traumatised in bringing it to you as it was originally written in Open Office and pasted onto Blogger, which then took it upon itself to reformat just about everything and required meticulous editing in the Edit HTML window to get rid of reformatting, taking away an hour of said writers life that will never be gotten back. The writer can found sittingrockinginacornerbabblingpleasemakeitstop/canihaveacupoftea/will larsulrichlikeit/wibblewibble/wantmyteddy.*
Shakespeare I believe is made a little difficult for most to access because of all the complex academic discourse built up around his work. I remember in school that more focus was place on the way Shakespeare switched from prose to poetry, use of certain words, similes, metaphors, etc, with some focus on the themes of his plays. This completely bored the the pants off me and my fellow teenage classmates, who were usually more interested in the actual story. We were enthralled by the goriness of Macbeth, and the comeuppance that awaited the eponymous villain, whilst in S5, the girls were caught up in the romance of Romeo and Juliet, which might have been helped by our teacher putting on the Leonardo Di Caprio and Claire Danes version for us to watch! That and she also pointed out and explained some of the filthy jokes, to some of my schoolmates glee.
