This one is mainly for the members of my missional community (read: church house group) who are mostly based in Dennistoun, eighth coolest neighbourhood in the world, according to Time Out. We sometimes call it “the Den” for short. I have a habit of changing the lyrics of songs, as my nieces can testify, so here is my alternative version of Freddy Mercury’s Living on my Own. If you’re not familiar with the song, there’s a lyrics video at the end.
There was rather a funny moment at church this week when the man giving the sermon was talking about how his Bolton accent makes it hard to articulate the place-names Ur and Ayr, at least so that anyone can understand him. Ur was easy enough from the context (Abraham’s home) but he did have to specify that Ayr was on the west coast before we got it, because frankly both names just sounded like vocalisations of uncertainty – “er?”
This post was composed in collaboration with my old friend, fellow A-ha fan and English teacher extraordinaire, Susan Main. We recently took a wee trip to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival (or Edinburgh Festival Fringe, as it used to be) and encountered many of these phenomena.
Sticking with my blog’s theme of failing to stick to a theme, I’m sharing a poem I wrote a few years back about the unpredictable, and usually disappointing, British summer.
The race for Christmas number one is being fiercely fought between Ed Sheeran & Elton John, and Ed Sheeran & Elton John (with Ladbaby). The tension is entirely bearable. However, although I’m not a fan of Ed or Elton, I am a bit pleased that Christmas number one will be something Christmassy this year. It rarely is.
One of the things my church has done to help people feel connected during the last year and a half of craziness is get a variety of members to do readings. They don’t give the reader’s name, but you often recognise the voices, which is nice, or you spend the entire reading going “whose voice is that?”, which is a little distracting. Anyway, as part of this I recently recorded a looong Bible reading for my church (Jeremiah 7, if you’re interested – it’s available on YouTube).
There was much hilarity at the Glasgow Esperanto Club this month. We were using Gather (an odd little meetup platform with very ’90s graphics) to play the ‘Secret Rule’ game, and the secret rule was that everyone had to laugh whenever Peter’s hand(s) were in shot. Although the laughter started off artificial, it soon became real when poor Peter was sitting with his hands clearly visible on top of his despairing head saying that he just couldn’t work it out. There is something very funny about a group of people who are not allowed to stop laughing, while someone else has no idea why.
Although I am demographically more of a Radio 2 listener, for the last few months I have been listening to Radio 1 every morning. This has exposed me to a great deal of modern popular music, and I have noticed some patterns. In fact, I have identified a few (a very few) categories that probably 90% of the songs fit into.
Rap/Grime/Drill/Hip-Hop (as if I know the difference)
There seems to be only one kind of song in this musical genre(s), at least among the stuff I’ve heard, and it goes like this:
I used to be very poor.
Now I am very rich.
My wealth and fame give me entry to exclusive locations, the ability to purchase expensive items, and access to many women.
I also swear a lot.
Pop
There’s more variety among the pop offering, and it’s largely divided according to relationship status.
I am in a relationship
You are very attractive.
I think about you all the time.
I enjoy having sex with you.
I am looking for a relationship
You are very attractive.
I think about you all the time.
I very much hope that we will soon be having sex.
Those songs are generally sung by men. The ladies’ response can be split into two other categories:
I don’t know what you’re waiting for.
I think I’ve made it clear I’m interested.
or
Not a chance, pal.
Now get out of my dancing space.
I am no longer in a relationship
There are two categories in this relationship status, too, and there is a pronounced gender divide.
Generally men:
I used to be in a relationship with you.
Now I am not.
The breakup was my fault / I don’t understand where I went wrong.
I am very sad and regretful.
Generally women:
I used to be in a relationship with you.
Now I am not.
The breakup was your fault and you were very foolish.
I am happy and have no regrets.
So there you have it: 90% of the songs on Radio 1 in a single blog post. This doesn’t cover weirdy indy songs where you don’t even know what they’re singing about (although often they are the men’s “no longer in a relationship” category, I think). It also doesn’t cover Christmas songs, which are starting to creep onto the Radio 1 playlist, and had already conquered Radio 2 by December 1st.
Speaking of Christmas songs, there is an utterly adorable new song about the weirdness and sadness of Christmas in 2020, our reassessment of what matters and our hope for better times. And it has a catchy chorus and a gorgeous video of Glasgow. It’s by a couple of Glasgow teachers called (collectively) Lapwing, and you can listen to here:
It probably says a lot about the neighbourhood of Anniesland, in Glasgow, that after spending a month here I am writing a post about Hyndland. Anniesland is a bit betwixt and between, both in a literal sense (its main landmark is Anniesland Cross, a major junction between roads that run west out of Glasgow and south to the Black Hole and the Death Star (as I like to call Govan and the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital) and also in terms of character. It’s kind of west end but not posh, a bit down at heel but not cheap, not that far the city centre, but not actually close. Continue reading →
K C Murdarasi 