LOSS

Loss - feeling lost to the Machiavellian machinations of my own head.

The ice cold abyss of depression which freezes to the core until I feel... nothing -~

Minutes lost in the hours, hours in the days, desperate to feel... something. 

The crazed ecstasy of mania which burns so bright until I feel... too too much -~

Deluded choices with ramifications I’ll only know later when they arrive as such. 

The ricochet of voices with no corporeal form that haunt me hour upon hour -~

Making the day and the night desperately lonely and so vitriolically sour. 

When I forget to remember; that social engagement, the appointment, how to make tea -~

My executive functioning so buggered it angers others despite my clemency plea.

Loss are the weeks in hospital, the zombie months of high medication not right for me -~

Loss are the times I fall victim to the full throes of my illness, yearning to be free.

But through loss I have fought, myself I have taught -~

A deeper understanding, and with it compassion -~

In order to be free, or at least in a fashion. 

To aid myself in, not in taming the beast -~

But keeping it on some kind of leash, at least.

In loss I have also gained, I can see more of you I can see more of me. 

So that whilst we are cursed we can see that we’re blessed too, you see. 

I am not ‘bipolar’. I am not ‘disordered’, just reordered, nor am I ‘schizo’.

Yes I have bipolar schizoaffective disorder, but is that all of me? No.

For the losses I’ve known or will endure ~~

                                                                      I will find triumphs, of that I am sure. 

Well Hello World!

It’s been some six years since I last wrote on this blog. Today I do so as a mental health advocate, as I’m a media volunteer and champion with Time To Change, the charity that works to break down the walls of prejudice and stigma. Which is exactly why I believe it's important to talk about mental health - to help educate and enlighten. 

So, me. I’m the card-carrying flag-waving cannon-blasting bipolar schizoaffective disorder boy as some of you know, and I have to say I’m doing pretty damned well. No delusions that I can fly or run faster than a train (been there), no voices frequently tormenting me to the point of yearning my own extinction (they do arise), no sinking into an icy abyss of depression where all one feels is nothing. Yes, ok, I do still have periods of extremity to battle, endure, but thankfully nothing lasting, colouring my life with mortal danger or monumental despair, so if I falter I bounce back pretty sharpish. True, my executive functioning leaves a lot to be desired (please google ‘executive functioning’ if you’re not familiar with the term, as we all operate with it) and this can be the cause of countless headaches. Illogical emotional reactions or indeed eruptions still come to me on a fairly frequent basis, but to the best of my best ability I remain, to quote a favoured poem, master of my fate and captain of my soul.

Now I wouldn’t say I have the bipolar beast tamed; it’s too ferocious for that. But I think I’ve at least got it on a reasonably firm leash. I educate myself continuously through reading, writing and self study (to know thyself is undoubtedly the best ethos of all) which in turn empowers me. I also have amazing family and friends. It was around five years ago now, after a particularly dark episode, that I decided to be completely transparent in regards to my own journey, and doing so has been nothing but positive. It has given me strength and brought new friendships. When you stand up tall, even when full of doubt, you actually, if I may be so bold, shine a light onto others, showing them that they too can do the same. Energy breeds energy. 

With that in mind, if I could offer some advice to anyone in the grips of mental illness or poor mental health it would be this. 

1. Never feel shame or guilt. Though it is not always plain sailing and you will hit tumultuous waters, remember it was the storm that came to, you are not to blame. You didn’t choose this, and though it plagues you it is not the whole sum of who you are. You are unique and unrepeatable, a mass of intricate complexity that cannot be quantified simply by a label, don’t do that to yourself and don’t let others do it to you either. 

1. Talk. Talk to those who love you and want to help. Talk to the professionals who have the same aim. Be open, be honest, let your voice be heard. Expressing ourselves is so important - it can bring forward a better understanding and more compassion, and ensure you’re receiving the best possible treatment. It may also, as it has done me through my writing, serve to bring you greater clarity and awareness. 

1. Take your medications, they’re there to aid you in aiding yourself. That said, don’t be shy in speaking out if you don’t think they’re right, having them tweaked or maybe trying something new - it took me a fair few years to find something close to an ideal regime. At one point in my life, I was virtually the walking dead for the few hours I was awake; I’d wish that on no-one. So know what you’re taking and why you are taking it, take a little time for study. 

1. Educate yourself. For example, I have bipolar schizoaffective disorder, and my reading has not ended regarding the books and the websites I’ve digested to guide me to a better way of seeing and, hopefully, being. I also write which I know is not for everyone but if you can, do; it has proved to be an incredibly insightful ally to me. 

1. Be kind to yourself. 

1. Be kind to yourself. 

1. Be kind to yourself. 

ONE OF THE MOST INFLUENTIAL VOICES OF OUR TIME

"I make writing as much a part of my life as I do eating or listening to music." 

Maya Angelou, 1999. 

I could not agree more. 

Pimp. 
Prostitute. 
                  ...upon those two words, judge not, but read her works. 

Cook. 
Mother. 
Night-club Dancer. 
Singer. 
Actress. 
Polyglot. 
Civil Rights Activist. 
Anti-apartheid Activist. 
Author. 
Poet.
Philosopher. 
Teacher. 

“A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” 

In 1993, Angelou recited her poem 'On the Pulse of Morning' at the inauguration of President Bill Clinton, becoming the first poet to make an inaugural recitation since John F. Kennedy's inauguration in 1961. The recording of the poem was awarded a Grammy Award.

She has also received nominations for the Pulitzer Prize and the Tony Award. 

She served on two presidential committees. Awarded the National Medal of Arts in 2000, the Lincoln Medal in 2008, and in 2011 President Barack Obama presented her with the Presidential Medal of Freedom. 

She has also received over thirty honorary degrees from colleges and universities from all over the World. 

Her son, Guy Johnson, says he is often asked what it's like to be raised by the woman hailed as one of the most influential voices of our time. Did Johnson, a writer and author himself, ever feel he was growing up in her shadow? 

"No, I didn't. I grew up in her light." he says. 

"Sometimes I wasn't worthy of it, but it has always been an experience that expanded me. She thinks that the divine hand is in all things. She has faith that's like a rock -- you can stand on it. She speaks to our humanity and she reminds us that we are both brother and sister to the rest of the human race." 

What a powerful, moving, inspiring and true statement. 

You can see the short clip here:

With one and a half minutes that, I trust, will stay with you always, I leave the final words to The Lady herself:

TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE

First, a little history.

It was, given a decade or so, about three thousand years ago that the first Olympic Games took place; dedicated to the Olympian gods and staged on the ancient plains of Olympia.

By all accounts, Olympia was a place of unique natural and mystical beauty, a meeting place for worship and other religious and political practices. So rather akin to Sochi by all accounts, though perhaps with cleaner water and bedding. The many elaborate buildings and sporting facilities were dominated by the majestic temple of Zeus, with the temple of Hera parallel to it.  

Although the Olympic Games were closely linked to Zeus, they were not an integral part of any religious observance. The Games were a direct outgrowth of the values and beliefs of Greek society, who idealized physical fitness and mental discipline, believing that excellence in those areas honoured Zeus, the greatest of all their gods. So The Games held a secular character, solely aimed at showing the physical qualities and evolution of the performances accomplished by young people, as well as encouraging good relations between cities.

They continued for some 12 centuries, until the Roman Emperor Theodosius, a Christian, decreed in 393 A.D. that all such "pagan cults" be banned.

The first Olympic Games since that time were held, once again, in Greece in 1859, though it was the Athens games of 1896 that were truly international and more as we know today.

Looking back once again to the origins, another notable aspect of the Greek culture, and indeed through much of the Ancient World, was that love between males was not only tolerated but actually encouraged, and expressed as the high ideal of same-sex camaraderie.

Such terms as 'homosexual' and 'heterosexual' had no equivalent in these times, simply because it was assumed that a person would have both 'hetero'- and 'homo'- sexual responses at different times. Sexuality was fluid, and was certainly not a marker of one's worth or standing in society. Over subsequent centuries much has been written to negate this; with a knowledge it cannot be completely denied, many historians and the like have done their best (inevitably fed by their own beliefs) to pigeon-hole it into matters of status and the like.

It wasn't.

Furthermore, let it not be forgotten that for several hundreds of years during this time there were two deities vying for worship. Yes, two.

One was the son of a carpenter from Nazareth who died upon The Cross to save his people, and the other was the handsome young lover of the Emperor Hadrian who drowned in the Nile to save Egypt: The Christians eventually took power over The Pagans, so Jesus won and Antinous (who most people will not have heard of) lost. Incidentally, Antinous was the last Roman to be deified, a practice normally reserved for Emperors, and there were more statues of him made than of any figure throughout the whole of Roman History. He was worshipped throughout the vast Empire for several hundreds of years.

'The Olympian Ideal'

One of the most famous statues is the colossal 'Antinous as Dionysos-Osiris' in marble, which stands in the Museo Pio-Clementino, Sala Rotunda of the Vatican Museums.

This does not open a debate here about religion and faith, but it does clearly illustrate that which character who is most worshipped, be they myth alone or legend born from reality, has deep root as to who is in power as much as anything else.

So the Pagans were, generally speaking. much freer in their approach to sexuality. It goes without saying that same-sex relationships of the kind portrayed by this 'Greek love' ideal were increasingly disallowed within the Judaeo-Christian traditions of Western society, and eventually became highly taboo.

Two of the greatest names in history, both from the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, are good examples of not following such constraint. But there are many more besides.

So, to today.

None of us can be ignorant to what is happening over in Russia, the call for change, for retraction of laws, for boycotts. Russian law bans the promotion of 'non-traditional' sexuality, and yet it could be very strongly argued that the very sexuality they are against is the most 'traditional' of all, particularly in the long history of the Olympics.

What is disturbing to say the least is that even if Putin ordered a complete reversal of his government's stance on homosexuality tomorrow, the seeds have already been sown. People invariably seem to be inspired more by hatred than love, and the mentality of prejudice has now been so firmly set in stone that it will no doubt last for generations.

The Russian government only yesterday called on all warring parties around the world to observe the Olympic truce during the upcoming Winter Olympic Games in a statement that mentions the "...building (of) a peaceful and better world through sport and the Olympic ideal". A peaceful and better world... quoted... from a country whose government condones the abuse and torture of individuals simply because of their sexuality.

Perhaps rather odd to quote myself here, but I wrote this in another piece about the modern slave trade, and it is fitting to place here: "It is the right of every person to be born in freedom and live in liberty. It is the duty of every person to fight injustice and oppression."

In mind of that, let me set out 'The Olympian Ideal'.

It is a life philosophy, promoting three core values:

Excellence, Friendship and Respect.

All Olympic Ideals flow from these three core values.

The aspects of these Olympic Ideals are:

The balanced development of body, will and mind.

The joy found in effort.

The educational value of being a good role model.

The respect for universal ethics, including:

• Tolerance

• Generosity

• Unity

• Friendship

• Non-discrimination

• Respect for others

Developing a better and more peaceful world by the educating of young people through sport, free of discrimination and in the Olympic spirit.

A SHORT THOUGHT REGARDING SMELL

Having recently endured several sojourns into the depths of our beloved Capital's rush hour, after months of welcome respite from such horror, I have come to the conclusion that 'the stench of humanity' (which, in a brief sentence, can be best summed up as a disgustingly heady waft of excrement boiled in salted water) can only be remedied by a nosegay. Nosegays, a popular accessory that was a bouquet of flowers and fruits since the 15th C, have since fallen out of fashion somewhat; it is undoubtedly time for their return. So expect them to be sold outside your local tube station by young models of Jacob Hall and Nell Gwynn (the Chris Hemsworth and Angelina Jolie of the 17th C) soon. I believe they will bring ease to thousands, and quite possibly make me a pretty penny or more in the process. 

What is 'RICH'?

http://teremity.wordpress.com/2013/10/02/21-ways-rich-people-think-differently/

There are several things that get me thinking in regards to this article as linked above.

First, and perhaps foremost, what is 'rich'? Clearly, this article means rich as in monetary value, and whilst I, like most, would no doubt enjoy being free of any constraint or difficulty regarding the lack of mineral gold in one's back account, I find it a small focus to accept that solely as a valuation of where we stand in life. In family and friends (who are of course adopted family) I believe I am blessed to be rich beyond hope or imagination; and I'd happily challenge Ms.Gina Rinehart to see who is winning on that score.

Indeed, my present circumstances see me at the most financially low in years, yet the balance is tipped by feeling the happiest I have done in over a decade also, so again, being rich is a matter of opinion and feeling as much as, or even more so, than about what buck is in the pocket or the bank.

Again, would I relish in never having to worry about money, in travelling where I wish whenever I wish, in buying whatever I wanted and seeing that all those I loved were, to the best of my ability, in a similar stance? Yes. I'd be a liar to say otherwise.

But then, I don't, for one moment, see myself as 'average' either. Whatever an 'average' person is. I am unique and unrepeatable in being 'me'. As are we all. Supposing for one moment I am average however, the quote that "average people think money is the root of all evil" is wrong anyway - it is that the love of money is the root of all evil.

Nor is it that poor people think selfishness is a vice and rich people think selfishness is a virtue. Mother Teresa famously considered herself the most selfish of all because she gained so much from giving all that she could.

Nor do I subscribe to Steve Siebold's (author of “How Rich People Think”) belief that the road to riches is paved with formal education; I do entirely believe that it comes as - he so states that only rich people do - in acquiring specific knowledge. Should I ever become rich in monetary terms, it will be precisely because of my unique and unrepeatable accumulation of such specific knowledge.

And I do not believe my best days are behind me either. Life, for me, means I have only just begun, and it is because I am following my passion I believe this.

To take a basic overview of the World Population, and to thus divide it between two basic categories of either 'rich or 'average', governed entirely by a set mentality, is as simplistic and as naive an assumption of the human race as anyone could possibly make.

EVEN THE CROWN IS OPEN TO A CLEVER CON

Much to the chagrin of many of my friends, I will admit to being something of a Royalist. Not completely I must add, though I'll get to that momentarily.

Yes, it is archaic, and when one really thinks about it, having an inherited Head of State is as completely ludicrous as it has always been since the times of Ancient Rome, given that their personality, morals et al are as unpredictable through birth as any such occurrence is.

However, I'm rather fond of our Queen. I can't deny that some of that credit would have to go to Helen Mirren, much like Meryl Streep gave a touch of genteel humanity to  Thatcher in the on-set of dementia, so one could argue that my warmth is inspired purely by fiction as much as fact.

But I also like her for being such a constant. In this ever-changing, seemingly ever-faster World, she is etched and stitched into the fabric of all our years alive. As a child, to me and my family The Queen was as much the 25th of December as Father Christmas himself was. My Grandmother 'knew' her, thus so my Mother , and so in some small way I do too. There is, I believe, something soothing in that continuity. For over half a century she has stood as a through-line connecting every Prime Minister from Churchill to this day, a rarity of which the relevance should not be dismissed.

It cannot be denied, whatever one's thoughts on the matter, that she has undertaken her duty as Monarch with diligent dignity, grace and an unwavering commitment that few could match or let alone surpass in a lesser role. And though she has undoubtedly lived a life of immense privilege, one far removed from that of the Common People, there are a countless many who have been personally touched by but a moment of her personal focus and attention.

So for me, I'm quite patriotic in my thought of 'God Save The Queen'.

On the flip-side, in the majority the rest of them I could happily do without. I'm somewhat charmed by William and Harry I suppose, much as I was beguiled by Diana, but then we live, more than ever, in an age that is beholden to 'The Cult of Celebrity'. And there is Anne, who is truly a toff but a hard-working one at best. But yes, the likes of Beatrice and Eugenie irk considerably, and when we come to one such as the Princess Michael of Kent I swing closer to being a gun-toting Revolutionary.

That particular rather loathsome jade is not, however, to be confused with the more elegant and most 'ordinary' Katharine, Duchess of Kent, who has in many ways forgone her 'Royal' status, including most secretly taking up the decade-long role of a Primary School music teacher in Kingston upon Hull known as plain Ms.Kent, along with her tireless charitable work with the likes of UNICEF and The Samaritans; I like Katherine Kent very much.

Is it ridiculous that our taxes pay for The Queen? I won't try to dispute that. But then the Queen herself favours a gradual shrinking of the Civil List as she tries to trim the cost of the Royal family to satisfy public opinion; and Charles too has long believed that the Royal Family has to be leaner and more cost effective, although his own spending of around £15million a year makes you wonder what he actually means by lean (the Queen is famously - and relatively - thrifty in comparison).

Besides, our taxes also pay for every M.P. to have two homes when most of us cannot afford one, our taxes have paid millions towards the comfort of a hate preacher, our taxes are misused far more frequently and fundamentally poorly than on dear old Elizabeth II, and that remains a discussion for another day entirely. Furthermore, whilst it isn't happening fast enough (such things rarely do) the current centuries old system of grants and Civil List funding is being replaced by an all-in-one payment called the Sovereign Support Grant, paid for entirely by the Crown Estate.

Yes. I'm vehemently against the aforementioned likes of toilet-lid-wearing Beatrice and Eugenie being kept on the Civil List and similar funding, or even having taxpayer-funded royalty protection officers, which apparently for the most part (upon revelation it was costing us £500,000 a year) has now ceased. So yes, things are gradually changing, with their no-doubt disgruntled playboy dad Andrew now having to pay their rent of £30,000 a year. But for a four-bedroom 'flat' in the area of St.James' Palace, I'd say that comes at a snip.

Their cousins William and Harry may be required to have protection, but then they also fulfil their military duties, whilst Peter and Zara Phillips, though unquestionably gifted by the silver spoon, have both built up impressive independent CVs and, significantly, neither of them have police protection, or carry a title.

But here, today, this is where I'm cross as I catch this evening's headline:

Duke and Duchess of Cambridge’s refurbishments cost taxpayer £1m

This is the cost of converting the late party girl Princess Margaret's 'Apartment 1A' at Kensington Palace ready for them and their new born sometime in the Autumn, after the renovation and redecoration is complete. Oh, so after £1m it still isn't finished yet? And the name 'Apartment 1A' is also a little misleading, seeing as it consists of 57 rooms. Admittedly, it has been stated that all the interior decorating costs are being paid for out of the Royal family’s private income. So what has the £1m gone on then? Roof tiles, re-wiring and asbestos clearance apparently.

Which makes me wonder, is the Royal Household that out of touch, because they're being taken for one hell of a scam with that bill. It smells like a dodgy contractor to me. Someone really needs to call Esther Rantzen, Gloria Hunniford or Angela Rippon on their behalf, because clearly, even The Crown is open to a clever con.

ELEVATIO PRO DUOBUS

I was asked to pen a review of Afternoon Tea for Paramount in London - here it is.

Tea…is a religion of the art of life.

- Okakura

In his long essay ‘The Book of Tea’ in 1906, Okakura Kakuzō wrote in detail about how the tea ceremony can be practised to foster and promote harmony, discipline the mind, quiet the heart, and attain the purity of enlightenment. Teasim he called it. Well, we are not in Japan, and Paramount’s latest offering may not achieve all of the above, but it most certainly makes joyous steps in that direction.

Before I begin, a little history. In spite of its origins in the Orient, there can be few things more pleasing, or considered more quintessentially English, than the pastime of drinking tea. It was first made fashionable in this country during the 17th Century by Catharine of Braganza, Queen and Consort to Charles II, who was actually Portuguese. By the 18th Century tea gardens had became popular throughout society, whereupon ladies and gentlemen would take their tea together outdoors (weather permitting) surrounded by entertainers and arranging all manner of assignations.

But ‘Afternoon Tea’ as we know it today is generally considered to have come into being in the mid 1840’s by the hand (or stomach perhaps) of one Anna Maria Stanhope, the 7th Duchess of Bedford; clearly a Dame of the Empire with an appetite.

With an early light lunch then nothing until dinner at 8.00pm (to this day still the most popular time requested by those dining out) the Duchess complained of a “sinking feeling” by late afternoon. And so she began the indulged small feast of tarts, cakes, scones, and of course, pots of tea. Understandably this seemed a simply splendid idea, the Duchess acclaimed for her forward-thinking, and so the custom swiftly caught on. Now in the 21st Century, whilst perhaps not a daily affair, it has nonetheless become the perfect genteel luxury to indulge in with delight, all cares and woes thrown to the wind.

At last then it has arrived here, at the very pinnacle of the capital, to be supped and savoured at leisure against the backdrop of that unparalleled panorama. To be enjoyed with or without a glass of champagne (for me such an occasion rightly deserves the salute of bubbles), Paramount presents this wonder in all its glory. We chinked our glasses and saluted the day.

Your chosen brew is conjured before you into clear pots (which only added to the delight of my companion’s selection as we watched the Flowering Osmanthus unfurl its sweet blossoms). Myself, I’ve always felt the comfort in the smokiness of Lapsang, as if I’m retiring in my study, and this was poured for us into the crystal cups (with no handle, in a twist on the traditional Chinese style, a modern vacuum design making it cool to the touch), with the advised note of not allowing it to steep for too long else the taste become overbearing with liquorice intensity.

Then to the bites, a feast most certainly! Beautifully laid out for our eyes to dance upon were all manner of treats, graciously laid so temptingly vibrant in contrast to the tiered tray of ebony slate. Open savouries such as generous Smoked Salmon & Fromage Blanc on Rye Pumpernickel, and Egg elevated with Mustard Mayonnaise upon Toasted Brioche, to name but two, no needing of playful fight over in their plenty, and punctuated with a quiche that practically melted upon command. I would have been quite sated here, but… okay, we were most satisfied certainly, but the sweeter half of what was ours would be the proof of those appetites truly sated.

A ballet of sweet and bitter chocolate, Crème de Violet Macarons, as fine no doubt as those made for Catherine de’Medici by her Italian pastry chefs in the 1530′s, tangs of fruit softened with silken soufflé… they seemed unending, yet just, JUST, allowed room for warm bite-size scones with the perfect jam and obligatory decadent cream.

We sat back, marvelling at what we had eaten and with the ever-changing skyscape that cannot be beaten our constant companion, wondering for a moment if perhaps the cranes over the Crossrail site would have to be called into action to send us on our way.

Paramount had done themselves, and the 7th Duchess of Bedford, most proud; to the point we both skipped dinner at 8.

So to paraphrase one T’ien Yiheng when he spoke of tea, climb to the peak, sup for a few hours and just “forget the din of the world.”

LET THE MUSIC SPEAK

For me, there can be little more inspiring than being asked to write something for someone, whatever that might be. A letter, a biog, review... anything (to me the conjuring of words is like a painter daubing canvas). It often serves as a self-educator too as one delves into the subject. I recently received the honour of doing so for that maestro of music Tom Glide, towards his latest (blindingly brilliant) release 'SWEET HEAVEN' featuring the great Timmy Thomas. It was a joy and a privilege to undertake (always good when the request is well-received), and here it is.

TOM GLIDE - 'SWEET HEAVEN'.

An accomplished producer, composer, musician and singer in his own right (he’d taught himself to play guitar, drums, bass and keyboards by the age of 10), Tom Glide has become a name synonymous with the masterful musicianship of uplifting groove, and his new release, featuring vocals from the legendary Timmy Thomas, is set to further seal his stance as a maestro at the top of his game.

This latest release follows on from the highly acclaimed ‘In the Name of Luv: Tom Glide and the Luv All Stars’, his sublime 11-track smash collection of funk and soul infused tunes that, with soaring horns and accomplished vocals et al so beautifully bridges the old school with the new. Featuring some of the best artists in their field, whose collective credits, aside from their own, range from Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye and George Duke to Earth, Wind & Fire and the Rolling Stones, to name but a few, this album, the culmination of a long-held dream, holds up the vision of, in Tom’s own words “music that erases the distance between the past and the present, and looks ahead to the future; a universal celebration of togetherness, brotherhood and love”.

The ‘All Stars’ saw collaboration with luminaries including keyboardist Larry Dunn, bassist Alex Al, drummer James Gadson and the acclaimed trumpeter Rahmlee Michael Davis (Jackie Wilson, Michael Jackson, B.B. King, Donny Hathaway, Minnie Riperton… the list of that particular pedigree goes on). The latter, Tom says, was “…one of the most beautiful musical experiences of my musician's life. I learned a lot about music, human relationships and humility. His unique art to construct voicing as foundations inside my songs or how to distribute notes like characters in the cinema, or measuring ingredients as in fine cooking, and gastronomy - to have the perfect taste or colour.  Learning this art has been like a revelation for me.” 

It is a revelation that abounds in telling, shown not only in how Tom brings so many top talents of all ages together, but on with the tunes they create, ones that stand solid as new classics. So with this latest release Tom is set to continue in furthering his vision of bringing real musicianship into the lounge, the bedroom and upon a truly uplifting dance-floor to the fore.

With some four decades in the music business Timmy Thomas has given us golden gems like ‘Why Can't We Live Together’ (1972), with its memorable stripped-down production of Hammond organ and percussion to his soulful vocal, along with classics under the T.K.Disco label such as ‘Stone To The Bone’ and much more besides, seeing him consistently topping the R&B charts. Here now then, under the umbrella of Tom’s ‘All Stars’, another hit is assured. With remixes from the likes of the equally prolific talents of UK producers Matt Early and 12 Shades, along with some stunning keyboards by JD 73, this March release of ‘Sweet Heaven’, is another vibrant step in the on-going march of Tom Glide and company, here with Markus Kater and Stephen Tucker in Miami (the two guys who made the connection with Timmy Thomas happen) and supervised in studio by the acclaimed American bassist, songwriter and producer George “Chocolate” Perry.

The train shows no sign of stopping either, as this will lead on to yet another release in May, before the planned launch of a second album towards the end of the year.

And after his hugely successful 2012 UK tour ‘Soul On The Road’ together with Cool Million, Gary Poole and Westcoast Soulstars, along with vocalists like Laura Jackson and Tim Owens, as well as being on the road in Germany, France, Japan and the US West Coast, Tom is also getting focused on a second tour in the UK: “I’m hoping to bring a full horns section on stage, to make the full circus happen.”

As Berthold Auerbach once put it: “Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”  Tom and his unrivalled collective don’t just wash the dust away, they buff the soul to the highest gleam. In his own words: “We pray we’ve created music to uplift people; to bring people closer together.”  One listen and that becomes undeniably true.

Giles Addison – March 2013

A HOUSE IN ORDER

They’re currently electing a new Pope.

So I looked at some facts.

According to Avro Manhattan, in his book: ‘The Vatican Billions’, The Vatican has “…large investments with the Rothschilds, with the Hambros Bank and Credit Suisse. In the United States it has large investments with the Morgan Bank, the Chase-Manhattan Bank, and the First National Bank of New York to name but a few. Billions of shares are held in the most powerful international corporations such as Gulf Oil, Shell, and General Motors; in fact the wealth of the Vatican in the U.S. alone is greater than that of the five wealthiest giant corporations put together…

…The Vatican's treasure of solid gold has been estimated by the United Nations World Magazine to amount to several billion dollars. A large bulk of this is stored in gold ingots with the U.S. Federal Reserve Bank, while banks in England and Switzerland hold the rest. That doesn’t include all the art, real estate, property, stocks and shares it holds.”  

Let us not forget that the Catholicism became the official religion of the Roman Empire in 313 A.D., since when its power has been in near-constant growth. For more than a thousand years, tithes and tributes flowed in from all over Europe. Non-Christians and even fellow Christians were killed and their property confiscated.

The Roman Catholic Church is now a greater possessor of material riches than any other single institution, corporation, bank, giant trust, government or state of the whole globe. The Pope therefore, as the visible ruler of this immense wealth, is consequently the richest individual of the twenty-first century. I know, much like our Queen, he doesn't exactly own it, but nonetheless, he could alter its distribution.

In the last few years more than $2 Billion dollars has been paid out as settlements by the church for sex-abuse allegations in the United States alone. Less than a tenth of its current wealth is ever used on humanitarian projects such as disaster relief, medical aid, and help to the poor in developing nations, children and refugees.

Funnily enough, the Catholic Church considers the “excessive accumulation of wealth by a few” to be a mortal sin. And yet half the world's population starve.

Long live The Pope!

Oh.. Fashion. I'll be in fashion, when I'm done.

My latest piece for To Be Continued.

As a man who knows little of haute couture… A term originating from the French, meaning: "high sewing". That is the funny thing about language – to the English language 'haute couture' sounds expensive, glamorous, other-wordly; whereas the term 'high sewing' to me conjures up an image of a woman called Pam knitting argyle mittens on a ladder, or else a chap called Keith frantically botching a home-made oven glove for his Aunt Eileen whilst having a spliff…

I digress… Again, as a man who knows little of haute couture, I have to admit I find it admirable I can so digest an exhibition such as this (or my earlier issue on the V&A Ballgowns) when actually I know nothing betwixt a flounce and a godet.

"Review, don't critique" I long remember. After all, what is a critic but one voice believing themselves to be an arbiter of taste, and who can truly claim to be an authority on that? Yes, my taste is impeccable surely (my taste in friends proves that), but it is not a benchmark by which others should adhere, or feel they must follow. In life, as in everything, “make it your own”.

For example, I love coffee, one lump or poo, but even if I was the biggest euromillions winner ever I’d not pay £30 a cup for one made using beans digested and then picked from the dung of elephants. (True: called ‘Black Ivory’ and produced at £685 per kilo).

Anyway… here is my Valentino piece. :-)

http://www.tbcmagazine.com/?p=3129

THE UNKNOWN COLOURFUL WORLD OF M&M's®

Above is a picture of Europe's first M&M's World® store which is in London’s Leicester Square.

The official blurb says it is ‘Dedicated to the colourful fun of M&M's®…’

The company behind it, Mars, states that it is committed in ensuring that their “…actions should never be at the expense, economic or otherwise, of others who we work with. We strongly believe that only success that is shared can be sustained and it is our goal to achieve this in all we do.”

As the makers of some of the world's most-loved confectionery products, they are a major user of cocoa, and “for over 30 years Mars has supported cocoa sustainability.”

Really? At what cost? By that, I do not mean to them, but from a humanitarian point of view. Yes, we can read their claim that they were “…the first global chocolate company to commit to sourcing only certified cocoa, and we will do so by 2020.”  They go on to proudly claim that as of June this year, “all MALTESERS® in the UK and Ireland will carry the Fair Trade logo.” My, that does sound good.

Well first this is 2012, not 2020. And secondly, Mars is a company that is behind a great deal more products than just MALTESERS®.

So let us look at some of the facts.

Côte d’Ivoire (The Ivory Coast of West Africa) produces 43% of the world’s chocolate. Due to increased poverty, changing traditions, and corrupt governments, Africa is rampant with child slavery in many areas, and there are currently around 300,000 children who are enslaved in the cocoa, coffee, and cotton industries.

You read that right. 300,000 child slaves (not forgetting the adult ones). And this is the year 2012.

These children are subject to the most horrible conditions, abuse, and punishment for any resistance, in little or no way similar to the abhorrent treatment that went on in the plantations during the Transatlantic Salve Trade. It is not unknown for a child (some as young as 7 years old) to have their feet chopped off in order to prevent them running away.

All of the major chocolate manufacturers are fully aware of the atrocities occurring daily on the many cocoa plantations in West Africa; Mars/M&M's being one of them, along with Hershey’s and Nestlé.

On September the 19^th 2001 the Harkin-Engel Protocol was signed (including by Paul Michaels, the President of Mars/M&M’s) to ensure the end of child labour in all chocolate farms. The deadline for this to be completed was 2005. It was then put back to 2008, and then to 2010 (incidentaly, in that same year the revenue of Mars was $30 billion, a One-Year Growth of 7.1%).  This agreement still remains unfulfilled, and in fact, the 300,000 child slaves entrapped in the trade today is an increase on the figure as it stood in 2001, so the problem is getting worse, not better.

Fair Trade on a bag of MALTESERS® brought in the UK may sound a jolly decent thing. However, when one thinks of how much confectionary is sold around the World by the Mars Empire, does this statement of intent not seem a little empty of gesture, let alone to be one truly embodying considerable change?

Besides, the simple fact is that we the consumers have no sure way of knowing if the chocolate we are buying has been tainted with the blood of child slaves, and it was only in 2010 that the founders of the Fair Trade Certification process had to suspend several of their West African suppliers due to evidence that they were using child labour. This is something that these huge corporations seem more than happy to continue ignoring, which they will continue to do because we continue to be happy buying.

Drissa, a recently freed cocoa slave who, like most of those who farm the cocoa for our consumption, had never even tasted chocolate, was asked what he would tell the people who eat chocolate made from slave labour, he replied: “When people eat chocolate they are eating my flesh.”

That is the truth behind Europe's first M&M's World® store in London’s Leicester Square, so dedicated to the colourful fun of M&M's®…’ It is coloured with the blood, sweat and suffering of children.

Suddenly, that treat doesn’t taste so sweet.

A MAESTRO PLAYS

(This is the unabridged version of an article that appears in Issue 3 of TBC Magazine: http://www.tbcmagazine.com/?p=1387)

MISTA PIERRE

With just basic equipment, recording snippets of songs from the radio on a tape deck and then splicing them together, this was something many of us of a certain generation did in our youth, how we compiled our birthing music collection. There was of course no internet back then, and even if one could afford to buy a single from Woolworths each week, it would hardly go towards to amassing a large collection of tunes. This was how it was done back in the day, by being creative. Some, like Mista Pierre, took that creativity to a whole other level.

                                  

Like any true and great connoisseur of music Pierre wasn’t limited in his tastes to one genre, he embraced everything from classic to pop, the musical understanding of each giving him a solid and lasting foundation. However, as a young kid growing up in Peckham, it was the cultural explosion of hip hop that took predominant hold, and so set him on a direct path through and out of South London and to a wider world.

Once a wealthy village and hunting ground of Kings, with the arrival of the Industrial Revolution and the rapid expansion of the capital, trains saw Peckham became accessible to those working in the City and the docks, and the area grew rapidly. Heavily redeveloped in the 1960s, with high-rise flats built to house people from still existing slums in other areas, this initial high quality and modern standing of living, had, by the late 70s/early 80s fully entered a decline that turned it into one of the hardest residential areas, an archetypal London sink estate. It was here Pierre spent his youth, an area that seemed to hold little prospects: “There were triads and yardies” he says, “it was all gangs and drugs and within that you had no choice but to take your role.” There seemed very few, if any, ways out.

Music was therefore, undeniably Pierre’s escape, and without over-glamourising, his salvation. From a young age he dreamt of being a conductor. But how on earth could a young lad growing up in South London enter that far away world of classical music? Instead, he looked at what was around him, the hip hop culture and its four elements of rapping, DJing, dance and graffiti. He picked up an old turntable, repaired it, and with the few records he had in his possession, taking inspiration from Grandmaster Flash, he began to teach himself how to scratch. Someone heard him, was impressed, and the next thing he knew he was, at the age of just 14, placed alongside and pitted against those far more established in the Reggae Dance Hall in Peckham. It was competition, it was bravado, and despite the darker aspects it was still about team and community spirit. His talent swiftly assured him his place, and so gave him his accepted ‘role’, meaning that he didn’t have to take another within the gangs or drug-dealing. With just two small crates of records he had to learn how to make them work in a new way; every track had been heard before, so he had to ensure they had never been heard in quite the same way. It is well-established that, at its best, hip hop has given a voice to the voiceless, particularly in inner cities and neighbourhoods suffering from urban blight, and showcased their artistic ingenuity and talent on a global scale. Here is no exception, and so in the young Pierre a DJ was indeed born.

As time went on, wishing to see him removed from the still-troubled area, he was sent to stay with relatives in New York. Here was a young man with the knowledge already his now becoming immersed in all that was new and bold across the Atlantic. He played in the clubs of Brooklyn, and picked up extensively used samples blending the sounds of classic disco, the Chicago sound, and elements of hip-hop from the likes of the legendary Todd Terry and Def Jam. This lead to him achieving the highly-impressive stance of supporting ‘A Tribe Called Quest’ as DJ on their US Tour, an accolade few could match. For the next four or five years he travelled back and forth from New York to London, bridging the two and giving him a freshness to everything he played, wherever he played.

So it has been ever since, playing across the globe. With his early start, also being an accomplished exponent in break dance and pop lock, he soon learned how music can make people dance differently, and how as a DJ you can move them to a new mood. “Hip hop gave me the courage to experiment, to know how to take people on a journey with music.” says Pierre. “Real DJs know it is not about them, it is about the journey they take the crowd on, embracing their physicality and how music influences that”. Talking with him brings a realisation as to the true and real craft of a DJ. “You have to gauge the crowd. You have to study them, closely observe, so you know where to take them.”

Once a hip hop purist (never particularly piqued by the Acid electronica) and then onto house (as well as delving back further to all its origins) his music tastes are understandably all-encompassing. Hip hop being a genre that follows in the footsteps of earlier ones such as blues, jazz, and rock and roll with additional inspiration from soul, funk, and rhythm and blues would undoubtedly ensure this, leading one to look further back and dig deeper. And as Pierre himself acknowledges his ability to scratch way back then was born, in part, from the change in tempo found in his early passion for classical music.

Asked what the first ever record he owned was the answer that comes is perhaps unexpected. Adam and The Ants – ‘Ant Music’. “It begins with 8 bars of [drum] rim shots at the start, and I just used to play those on constant repeat”. Assuredly then, Pierre’s music repertoire is of not just the origins of his youth or subsequent years but that of a man with decades of music at his fingertips. Accessibility to all kinds of music has become readily available for us all, and so, even more so now “a DJ has to think and work. They no longer have the exclusivity of tunes as they did in the days of vinyl, now they have to be even more creative with their choices – a melange”. Many accomplished DJs have subsequently fallen by the wayside in this shift, just as many more (albeit less gifted ones) have arisen; it takes far more than just putting one track after another with a bit of beat matching to make a true DJ. As Mista Pierre proves.

With that then he now brings us the podcast you can enjoy with this issue. “I wanted something funky, soulful, and distinctly edgy London, bridging gay, straight, black, white.” Because isn’t that what music does, cross boundaries and break down barriers? It can alter who we are, change where we are. It travels, and it transports us. 

“I’m a maverick. I didn’t get out of one ghetto to be put in another.” Mista Pierre says. What really compels him? Ultimately, his reward is to make people feel good, to see happiness coming back to him as he plays. That is surely the true mark of a DJ.

Enjoy.

Giles Addison

THE MOUNT ON HIGH

It will not last. Nothing does. That is the very nature of life. But today, Monday the 13th of August 2012, let me mark one of several quotes. That of Boris Johnson, Mayor of London: “London this morning to me really does feel like the capital of the world. Over 17 days we have shown the world that if we put our mind to it there is nothing this city and this country cannot do.”

In a constant deluge of double-dip recession, corruption and all other negative aspects of life both home and abroad, the crimes of humanity seemingly ever growing rather than diminishing as they should in a more enlightened age, hasn’t it been good to focus elsewhere for a while and have a city, a United Kingdom and indeed much of the globe look somewhere else entirely.

An oft used quote, and with good reason, is that of the chap who gave us the first dictionary (Dr.Samuel Johnson): “When (one) is tired of London, (one) is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.”

So true then as is now. Living here, being a Londoner, be it born and breed, long or shortly adopted, can take its toll. We know this. As with every relationship in life, there is good and bad in all that which we hold dear. But hold it dear we nonetheless do, and for a myriad of reasons.

One of them, where London is concerned, whether we consciously recognise it or not, is that we live in what is, undeniably, the richest city on the planet, in the sense of history, culture and unparalleled cosmopolitan wealth. (This isn’t entirely London-centric either – I believe the essence of what I express here permeates throughout our four nations upon two isles.)

I don’t know how many friends you have from different nations, but I doubt it surpasses the 300 + different languages that speak in this metropolis each day (even linguistically this is the most diverse city in the world). I don’t know what unexpected wonder, discovery and delight you have been educated and enlightened with, entirely free, but it must be (or else, you should strive more for it to become) considerable.

For all its faults, its weaknesses, errors and expense – London holds and offers much. I could wax lyrical on that alone, but it is, now, mid-2012 I write of here.

So they came, the Olympics 2012. I will freely admit, I gave it little care or joy. In truth, I was more concerned with the huge expense and the inexhaustible and shameful greed of corporate sponsorship (two things that must not be forgotten entirely – not out of pessimism but awareness that we can/must fight for rightful change). I’d also been led to think there was a going to be a crippling disruption of our capital, and well, to be honest, I really had little interest in these sports. Yes, I’d enjoyed sporadic moments with each Olympics over the years, but not with more than a passing enthusiasm. These Olympics would come, they’d be noted, but with little care or impact to me if I could help it.

I was, of course, wrong. Very wrong. All too soon I was returning from work and catching up on the day – the action and the commentary my only interests. (Note: BBC surpassed themselves). I openly wept, I cheered loudly, bounced on my sofa, crushed cushions fiercely and punched the air in acclaimed joy - As I wrote on my facebook upon the closing night:

“The joy of effort is more important than the thrill of victory.”

-Pierre de Coubertin, founder of the modern Olympic movement (1894)

But what victory we have witnessed these past two weeks! Not just the great Team GB, but from the showmen of Jamaica and all over the world. I really didn't think I'd get much Olympic fever - how wrong I was. Thrilling, moving, inspiring - bravo Great Britain, bravo the World - it is a good thing to celebrate the goodness of human spirit and endeavour.

It truly was.

There is enough darkness present in humanity as a whole, and yes, we must continually strive to rectify that, even if it takes a millennia.

But amongst that darkness, there is such brilliance to, and how it was shown to us through the Olympics 2012. Here were individuals who sacrificed much, pushed their bodies beyond the norm, to achieve a marvellous majesty that most of us could only dream of doing. Many of them also showed a huge humility in doing so, and even those showmen who more embraced their understandable  elevation akin to demi-god still did so with grace too, loved not only because they still fulfilled and surpassed promise, but because how we adore those with a deserved swagger – rock stars would not be so without it.

Team GB – there was/are many names that will now be etched on our memories for ever. Ennis, Hoy, Trott, Rutherford to name but a few. We loved their stories too, such as how Anthony Joshua (winning the Men’s Super Heavyweight with Team GB's 29th gold) at just 22 had only taken up the sport four years previously after his cousin took him to Finchley Amateur Boxing Club – one of many tales illustrating the tenacity within us all, the ability to achieve the unexpected. I can’t for a moment say most of us we will ever hit such heights, or how many future Olympians have now seen a spark within them flame, but nonetheless inspiration to many has been given.

As a nation we have been gripped by magnificence. Let us not forget that in Atlanta 1996, Team GB won a solitary gold – and that now in 2012 there were 29, with 65 in total, only pipped on the leader board by the super-states USA and China.

Of course, one strength we have (and let us embrace this rather than brush it aside) is that our country, when best, has always been everyman (and woman). Mo Farah (double Olympic Champion with gold on both the 5,000m and 10,000m) may hail from Somalia, but yes, he is British as British is. This is his home, where he found direction, love… greatness.

We are a people of many creed. One of the most powerful aspects of the Olympian tradition is the birth of the idea that it transcends the bounds of nationality, but in that we must also embrace that this land has always, and continues to be, a land made up of all. In the best sense, One Nation made of many, all (when best) under one groove.

‎As my friend Trojan put: “It is truly amazing to see so many people from different countries, religions and colours are together, in peace and having fun. Pity it can't be like everyday.” True. How good to see it though, even if for a while.

Yes, we revelled in the flag and spirit of heralding our own. But we also embraced the greatness of others. The strength and charisma of Usain Bolt for example will be legendary across generations, to name just one true star of these games.

I must also say, that as with this surprise of how much the Games themselves held such impact, I also did not see Sebastian Coe as a Statesman. In the closing moments (I pass singers miming et al – and acclaim a tragedy-struck Gary Barlow for not - though as a whole the show wasn’t bad) he proved he was:

“On the first day of these Games I said we were determined to do it right. I said that these Games would see the best of us… On this last day I can conclude with these words: When our time came - Britain we did it right. Thank you!... We lit the flame and lit up the world.”

With a global unity unparalleled thus aiding us, yes, indeed we did. We were that fire. The somewhat criticized NBC proclaimed the London Olympics the most-watched television event in the whole of U.S. history, whilst our own (and much acclaimed) BBC coverage was watched by 90% of UK population, not to mention the billions more worldwide.

This was monumental, this was history made, undeniably one of the greatest times of our modern age. Yes, there will be fault found, critique cast – that is how things are in this world. But right now, here, I mark simply what was good.

For, in amongst the agony and ecstasy of such pinnacles in sportsmanship, through all that engaged and made us feel such passion, it was no small joy to hear that by far the loudest and longest magnificent accolades of applause during the speech of Lord Coe came when he spoke of those 40,000 volunteers who had tirelessly played their part, individually tiny but collectively huge. It said not only appreciation of what they had done, but showed acknowledgement that the best in humanity comes from strength in comradeship, done selflessly, without personal gain, towards a common good.

Imagine that more often.

As Felix Sanchez (of the Dominican Republic) said: “It was heaven.” Something about it certainly was. For it showed greatness in human achievement. And so I hope all of us who got something from these past few weeks, be it large or small, can continue to hold some of that spirit within us.