Egg, Quail

I’m off to Waitrose
To purchase some quails eggs and
Larks tongues in aspic

Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle by Bill Callahan

A 2009 album from an artist that I hadn’t previously heard of, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s described as alt-country, which doesn’t feel quite right. His voice sounds a little like Leonard Cohen, but he’s accompanied by some nice strings that put me in mind of 70s style Glenn Campbell. Other tracks add some interesting bass lines and vaguely middle eastern sounding orchestration - perfectly pleasant listening, but nothing to frighten the metaphorical horses. 

Lyrically, he’s in similar territory to Leonard Cohen but I’m not sure if the latter ever sang a song about death from the perspective of a horse though. I’m feeling charitable, so I’ll give this three stars but I think I might have preferred it if this was just him and a guitar in a more minimal arrangement.

https://album.link/gb/i/311310235

High, Peach

Only one peach grew
From the very topmost branch
Of my dad's old tree

Modern Life Is Rubbish by Blur

The early 90s were a bit of an odd time for music. The 80s were now in the rear view mirror, rave was for the hardcore pillheads and grunge was still just a bunch of cob nobblers in Seattle. Where did that leave the indie kids?

The answer was firmly looking back to the 60s. At least they were being upfront in the album title and the nostalgic picture of a steam train puffing away. On this album, Blur are harking back to the sounds of the Kinks and early Bowie, who ironically enough were themselves harking back to even earlier traditions of music hall and singers like Anthony Newley.

I mean, I like the 60s, but this album feels almost apologetic for being unsure of itself and the sound they want to make. It’s fine as a whole, but their distinctive Britpop sound was yet to emerge.

https://album.link/gb/i/726407617

Her

A rewatch for this 2013 film, about a man falling in love with his artificially intelligent operating system. The protagonist is a man called Theodore Twombly, making a living by writing heartfelt personalised letters on behalf of other people (beautifullyhandwrittenletters.com) and living on his own whilst going through a painful divorce. He installs a new operating system on his computer (that quaintly comes on a disc with an instruction leaflet) that promises to revolutionise his life by adapting and learning from him. After answering some personal questions and selecting the female voice, he finds himself in conversation with his new companion as she sorts through his old emails and organises his contacts.

He starts to form an attachment to Samantha (as the AI decides to call herself), which quickly grows into romance and even sexual feelings. I remember a great deal of scepticism at the time (and also expressed by some of the other characters) that someone would possibly have a meaningful relationship with an AI, but evidently many people are now doing exactly that. 

Perhaps the most science fictional element is that his conversation is picked up perfectly by his wireless earbuds (did we have those in 2013?) without the usual palaver of "Alexa, switch the light on" "I'm sorry, I couldn't find a device or group called light". Director Spike Jonze also completely missed the obvious conclusion that the only reason a software company would release an AI operating system is so that they could hoover up as much personal data as possible to send targeted ads and political propaganda to the user as they can.

Heart of Empire by Bryan Talbot

This story picks up twenty or so years after the previous volume. The main protagonist is Victoria, the Princess Royal, daughter of Queen Anne and Luther Arkwright. Her mother is now Empress of most of the world and is depicted as a grasping octopus in scurrilous pamphlets being distributed by revolutionary suffragists calling for (gasp!) a system of democracy. Victoria makes a habit of walking amongst the common folk and evidently is keen to understand what their grievances are, unlike her mother appearing at court in grand Elizabethan style regalia to issue her decrees whilst hiding a ghastly secret.

As well as the revolutionary forces, other factions are at play - an assassin sent by a dying pope, a cabal of Neo-puritan fascists led by the head of Anne's secret police, an American journalist and his younger companion who seems to be remarkably adept at fighting, and various other characters drawn from the real world including Princess Diana and Kenny Baker. Of Luther Arkwright himself, there is no sign other than a memorial statue and a young revolutionary who bears a startling resemblance to him (and to Victoria). 

The action plays out over an ominous countdown of five days to an unspecified cataclysm. Preparations are under way for a grand victory day celebration at a newly constructed Crystal Palace, mysterious sigils keep appearing, psychic forces are building and the mystery deepens page by page.

The art style in this story is closer to a traditional comic book, and it's gorgeously coloured rather than the previous monochrome. It's still phenomenally detailed though, with some stunning sequences of hallucinations and dreams, switching between multiple silent panels and splash pages. The story is more linear than before, but Talbot is happy to take his time in the narrative unlike the traditional comic style that demands that everything be wrapped up in a 23 page issue including an obligatory fight scene. 

In retrospect, it was the right move to take a different approach with this volume both in style and tone, although there are many callbacks and references to it, and the theme contrasts the tyranny of monarchy with its mirror self of the puritan fascism. It would be nice to think (as Talbot concludes) that non-violent resistance will lead to democratic socialism, but, well, that idea is left as an exercise for the reader.

In conclusion, an excellent piece of work, not quite on the same level as the first story, but it really would have been difficult to top that. It's certainly made me want to revisit Alice in Sunderland as well as buying some of Talbot's other books.

Note, Morning Glory

Memo note to self
Don’t google Morning Glory
With safe search switched off