The classic and influential Aqualung album by Jethro Tull is 50 years old today (19 March 2021). I bought it on vinyl soon after its release in 1971 and have listened to it countless times since. It impressed me then, and continues to inspire me today. It’s a very thought provoking and challenging album using language in ways that may offend, but to powerful effect.
With its iconic cover and distinctive opening, it’s a concept album focusing on the differences between organised religion and God. It’s been described as musical musings on faith and religion.
The album also links in the themes of homelessness and poverty, with the title track perfectly describing the life of a homeless man, ‘you snatch your rattling last breaths, with deep-sea-diver sounds’. The Salvation Army even gets a mention, ‘Feeling alone, the Army’s up the road, Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea’.
The album covers many genres, with some great guitar work, and the distinctive flute sound of Ian Anderson (an instrument not common on rock albums, but central to the sound of Jethro Tull). This is an album unlike any other, and the best way to appreciate it is to simply give it a listen.
Here are some lyric tasters:
People, what have you done? Locked him in his golden cage, golden cage, Made him bend to your religion, Him resurrected from the grave, from the grave.
He is the God of nothing, If that’s all that you can see. You are the God of everything, He’s inside you and me.
And the bloody church of England, In chains of history, Requests your earthly presence, At the vicarage for tea.
Well, the lush separation enfolds you, And the products of wealth, Push you along on the bow wave, Of their spiritless undying selves. And you press on God’s waiter your last dime, As he hands you the bill, And you spin in the slipstream, Timeless, unreasoning, Paddle right out of the mess, And you paddle right out of the mess.
And I asked this God a question, And by way of firm reply, He said: “I’m not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays”.
Well, you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school, And have all the bishops harmonise these lines.
On this day (7 February) in 1601, the day before the Earl of Essex‘s planned rebellion against Elizabeth I, his agents bribed the Chamberlain’s Men to stage a performance of Richard II. He believed that the deposition scene, where the unpopular king willingly abdicates his reign, would steel the rebels in their resolve. Essex was executed on 25 February 1601.
‘This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle’: so begins probably the most famous speech from Richard II, William Shakespeare’s 1590s history play about the fall of the Plantagenet king. These words are spoken by the dying John of Gaunt, and the phrases he uses – from ‘this royal throne of kings’ and ‘this sceptre isle’ to ‘this other Eden’ and many others – have become known in the popular consciousness.Source
I have a very fond memory of a performance of Richard II by the RSC in the Roundhouse, London, it was memorable for a dramatic deposition scene where sand poured onto the lone king from a great height for a prolonged period.
Today (Sunday 18 October 2020) there’s a focus on anti-human trafficking and modern slavery in the Salvation Army, but I’m leaving that theme for others to cover, focusing instead on the Feast of St Luke.
If you’d like to know more about the work of the Salvation Army in supporting victims of modern slavery you can find out more here.
So, turning back to Luke (the patron saint of medicine and healing), Church of England cathedrals will today be praying for the healing of the nation, as well as for all those working in health and social care services.
Having said all that, I’m sure we can carry both emphases in our minds and find links between them, healing for victims of modern slavery and healing for our nation in a time of national crisis.
Luke is especially known as the gospel writer who focussed on the poor and the outcast, relating parables and incidents in the life of Jesus to illustrate this. He shared a faith that held truth to power, one that brought the values of God’s kingdom to people, the way of vulnerability and unconditional love.
In 2 Timothy 4:5-17 he’s referred to as one of the disciples who travelled beyond the Holy Land to share the story of Jesus. It’s thought that he was a companion of Paul, and in Colossians he’s called the beloved physician.
He’s the author of Luke’s Gospel along with its continuation, the book we know as the Acts of the Apostles. This latter book picks up the events after Jesus’ death and resurrection and tells how his story and message spread in the early days of the church. Luke is someone who has given us precious insights into the life and person of Jesus, and shaped our understanding of the spread of Christianity
Luke highlights parables which show Christ’s love for the poor and marginalised, women, children, the outcast, and the disabled. He also warns us about the dangers of wealth and encourages generosity. In Luke, the traditional order of things is upended, like the overturning of the tables in the temple. The tax collector is closer to God than the man of religion, and the wayward son is blessed by his father in what appears to be favouritism to his elder brother. In this upside-down world of Jesus, it’s the poor, lost and vulnerable who are welcomed and blessed.
Here’s the heart of the revolutionary message of Jesus; one which crosses boundaries, upsets established traditions, and disturbs the comfortable and complacent status quo.
Isaiah, in the Old Testament, offers us a glimpse into the heart of Jesus described in his gospel. Isaiah 35:3-6 gives us a vision of radical transformation, something that’s central to the Kingdom of God. 2 Timothy 4:5-17 (already mentioned) speaks of the courage and willingness needed to embrace these new values of Jesus.
Luke 10:1-9 describes Jesus sending out disciples to share his radical message, a message that may challenges our attitudes and values, suggesting they may need to be overturned.
The kingdom of God has come near to you.
Are we ready to be open-hearted? Are we ready to have our deepest assumptions challenged? Are we ready to embrace the values of Jesus?
Luke brings us, in his gospel, the timeless and up-to-date message of Jesus. One that demands courage, humility, and a willingness to change. One that calls for inclusion, an acceptance of all those unlike us. Jesus lifts everyone up and places them on the highest level where everyone is loved and valued.
A supreme vision of humanity that he was prepared to die for.
Dear God, we pray for victims of human trafficking, for those who have been dehumanized and held captive by the greed and violence of a broken world. For girls and boys, women, and men, who are bought and sold and abused by those who have forgotten the eternal value of a human soul. May they rediscover their worth in you. And may we affirm their worth as individuals who are made in your image.
Lord, reveal the way our choices may play a part in keeping others captives by creating demand for more slaves, and give us courage to make different choices. Give us eyes to see injustice and exploitation, and give us the courage to speak out against evil. Use us to bring light into the darkened corners of this world, that they may not remain dark forever.
May Your light expose the evil deeds of the captors, and may your love create a change of heart within those who are perpetrators of human trafficking. Use us to loosen the chains of injustice and let the oppressed go free.
We pray for an end to the evil that is human trafficking, and we pray that the victims of trafficking may find restoration and healing in you. Amen.
Note: the source of the above prayer can be found here.
During the five years I lived in Wallsend I was looking for this, but could never find it. I finally found it after moving to Norton in July this year following my retirement. What is it, you ask?
Brian Eno is one of my heroes. He’s a creative, a musician, a thinker, an innovator, an artist, a music producer – someone with a finger in many pies, who always produces something new and meaningful.
What I was looking for was 77 Million Paintings (released in 2006) – a book, a digital art computer program and a DVD. It was an evolutionary work in Brian Eno’s exploration into light as an artist’s medium and the aesthetic possibilities of generative software. This piece utilises the computer’s unique capacity as a generating processor to produce original visual compounds out of a large quantity of hand-painted elements, along with similarly produced music. I’m pleased I finally found it.
The release consists of two discs, one containing the software that creates the randomised music and images that emulate a single screen of one of Eno’s video installation pieces. The other is a DVD containing interviews with the artist. The title is derived from the possible number of combinations of video and music which can be generated by the software, effectively ensuring that the same image/soundscape is never played twice. Wikipedia.
You can find me on Goodreads (click the link), and see all my 2020 books here.
This morning I took Freddy with me to do some jobs in Stockton-on-Tees town centre, but we also had some fun and did some sightseeing. Freddy got soaking wet in the fountains and had to walk back to the car in wet shorts and bare feet, fortunately there were some spare clothes in the car. You can see the photos here.
We also had a walk along the riverside, passing a striking piece of constantly moving public art entitled Aeolian Motion (Phil Johnson). It was erected in March 2001 as part of a regeneration plan for the area and was inspired by the endless flow of the river and its rich history (see plaque below).
Forty years ago (18 May 1980) Joy Division lyricist and singer Ian Curtis took his own life, a tortured star whose influence both at the time and since has been immense. Actor Sam Riley brilliantly portrays Curtis in Control, Anton Corbijn‘s 2007 film of the Joy Division singer’s life and suicide.
Although there have been those who have sought to glamorise his death as a rock and roll suicide, in reality it was a consequence of his lack of control over many aspects of his personal life. The debilitating effects of epilepsy, the deception of having an affair, the almost inevitable breakdown of his marriage, and the prospect of separation from his year-old baby daughter. As he sang, “All the failures of the modern man”.
The classic and influential album Unknown Pleasures (released in 1979) revealed a profoundly dark poet and a starkly grim realist, a very different voice in music at the time, one who added deep insight and intelligence to the post-punk movement. It’s one of my influential albums.
The clues were there though. In the track Shadowplay, Ian Curtis sings, “In the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more…” and in New Dawn Fades, there’s one in the very title as well as the words, “The strain is too much, can’t take much more”.
Once the truly shocking news broke that Ian Curtis had taken his own life, there came the full realisation that his writhing and twisted dancing on stage wasn’t simply performance art, he was genuinely wrestling with his emotional and physical demons, as well as reflecting how hopeless, meaningless and inhuman he felt our world had become.
Tragic as any death is, we’re often drawn to those in public life who take their own lives, and there are many examples. Listening to the album Closer (released soon after his death) was uncanny and slightly unnerving, a feeling that persists even now.
So this is permanence, love’s shattered pride What once was innocence turned on it’s side A cloud hangs over me, marks every move Deep in the memory of what once was love
Oh, how I realized I wanted time Put into perspective, tried so hard to find Just for one moment I thought I’d got my way Destiny unfolded, watched it slip away
Excessive flash points beyond all reach Solitary demands for all I’d like to keep Let’s take a ride out, see what we can find Valueless collection of hopes and past desires
I never realized the lengths I’d have to go All the darkest corners of a sense I didn’t know Just for one moment, hearing someone call Looked beyond the day in hand, there’s nothing there at all
Now that I’ve realized how it’s all gone wrong Got to find some therapy, treatment takes too long Deep in the heart of where sympathy held sway Got to find my destiny before it gets too late
I remember a survey from a few years back revealing that more people take their own lives in May than in any other month. Apparently, “the juxtaposition between a literally blooming world and the barren inner life of the clinically depressed is often too much for them to bear”.
We remember Ian Curtis because of his musical influence and legacy, but there’s also many thousands of young men who take their own lives each year, and I particularly remember one whose funeral I conducted a few years ago. A reminder to do all we can to reduce the stigma of mental illness in society, and to support those who are suffering. On this tragic anniversary, a fitting way to remember Ian Curtis.
Painting Description: On the third day after the Crucifixion, two of Jesus’s disciples were walking to Emmaus when they met the resurrected Christ. They failed to recognise him, but that evening at supper he ‘… took bread, and blessed it, and brake and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew him; and he vanished out of their sight’. Luke 24:30-31
Painted at the height of Caravaggio’s fame, this is among his most impressive domestic religious pictures. He brilliantly captures the dramatic climax of the story, the moment when the disciples suddenly see what has been in front of them all along. Their actions convey their astonishment: one is about to leap out of his chair while the other throws out his arms in a gesture of disbelief. The stark lighting underlines the dramatic intensity of the scene.
Typically for Caravaggio, he has shown the disciples as ordinary working men, with bearded, lined faces and ragged clothes, in contrast to the youthful beardless Christ, who seems to have come from a different world.
My online friend Helen Austin (who has previously contributed a guest post) wrote this three years ago. I share it here (with permission). Artwork by another online friend Adam Howie, a piece he chose especially for Helen’s words.
Don’t give up on people. People are complicated. Complex. Don’t give up on them.
We are complicated and complex. Don’t give up on us.
We are all broken. Broken people. But there is hope. Life doesn’t have to stay broken. It can heal. Move forwards. Be different.
It will never be the same again. As it was before we broke. But it can be beautiful again. It really can. Beautiful in its brokenness.
Don’t give up. On people. On us. On you. Don’t give up on yourself. You belong here. You are loved. You are being thought of right now.
It’s not often I travel to London these days, and I can’t actually remember the last time I visited. One of my favourite places in London is the National Gallery, where many of the paintings on display feel like old friends. The Fighting Temeraire by Joseph Mallord William Turner is one of those old friends, a familiar point of reference amongst the myriad of paintings.
Turner’s painting shows the final journey of the Temeraire, as the ship is towed from Sheerness in Kent along the river Thames to Rotherhithe in south-east London, where it was to be scrapped. The veteran warship had played a distinguished role in the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, but by 1838 was over 40 years old and had been sold off by the Admiralty.
Not only am I currently separated from London by distance and circumstances, the gallery is also closed because of the coronavirus pandemic. Fortunately, it’s still possible to view the collection online, read detailed descriptions of the paintings, watch informative videos and have a virtual tour.