Author Archives: Tim Hall

Yet Another Sacking for Blogging

Joe Gordon, who until recently was an employee of Waterstone’s bookshop in Edinburgh, has been sacked for blogging. British SF Writer Charlie Stross knows Joe well, and has some comments on the subject:

For starters, Joe is an extremely knowledgable specialist bookseller. He’s an SF fan. Not just an SF fan, but a reasonably personable bookselling SF fan with an encyclopaedic grasp of the field and an enthusiasm for it that was infectious — it was difficult to walk into that shop and walk out again without having spent far too much money. His buying recommendations spread throughout the company (and outside it, as a regular reviewer writing for the online SF lit crit field), to an extent such that one editor of my acquaintance knew him by name as one of the key people to target if you wanted a new SF book launch in the UK to go down well. People trusted his opinions, people inside his company. The combination of specialist knowledge with enthusiasm isn’t something you can buy: if you’re running a business you just have to hope you can grab it when you see it. For a fellow occupying a relatively humble niche — no manager, he — Joe was disproportionately influential.

For seconds … over the past few years Waterstones has plotted a precarious path through the turbulent waters of corporate retail. Most recently, the company was taken over by HMV, another large retail media chain. About six to eight months ago a new manager arrived at Joe’s branch, and reading between the lines it appears that there was an immediate negative reaction: perhaps calling it a clash of corporate cultures wouldn’t be excessive. Joe was banished from the front desk to the stock room, a grubby windowless basement from which he had no exposure to customers. The previously thriving program of author readings and signings mysteriously vanished. Shelf space devoted to SF and fantasy — Joe’s speciality — receded into the shadowy depths of the store and shortened, shedding titles and variety (which, for a genre where sales are largely midlist driven and readers are browsers, is the kiss of death). And finally, Joe was accused of gross misconduct by his manager on the basis of a trawl through his online journal.

The story has now made it into the national media. If Joe was sacked from ‘bringing the company into disrepute’, then his pointy-haired idiot of a boss has brought the company into far more disrepute than one blog ever could.

This sort of behaviour makes me most unwilling to patronise this corporation; unfortunately almost all the larger book shops in my area are theirs. Unless Waterstones somehow sees sense, all my future book purchases are going to be online.

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Winter Stabcon, 2005

This is the first time I’ve managed to make it to the Winter Stabcon; usually the date clashes with the Maidenhead and Marlow Model Railway clubs annual show. While the summer event is still held in the traditional venue of Woolton Hall, the winter convention now takes place at the Britannia Hotel in Stockport.

Because it’s quite close to my current home, I decided it would be a cheaper option to travel in each day, since the taxi fare home late at night worked out rather less than cost of a hotel room. Unfortunately the hassle of getting there in the morning, especially when trains run late or the Sunday rail replacement buses turn out to be at inconvenient times made me wonder if I’d really made the right choice.

It’s always advertised as a ‘small friendly convention’, which probably explains why I did very little actual gaming on the Friday night, spending the time chatting and drinking beer. Unlike the summer event, we didn’t manage to drink the bar dry by the end of the con, although we did finish off all the bottled real ale by the end of Saturday! As is usual for events like this, I met up with a few old friends such as Sasha, L’Ange and Toni.

Stabcon is really a boardgame convention with a minority of roleplayers; of the 150 or so attendees, the majority spent the weekend playing complicated boardgames with thousands of pieces that lasted for 14 hours.

In the end I only played two RPGS. On the Saturday I played in Kev’s Call of Cthulhu game set on Mars during the early days of colonisation. On Sunday I played in the GURPS Discworld epic GMed by Phil Masters, in which the beer tasted of herring, and I played the axe-wielding barbarian Volf Volfssonssonsson, and no cliché was left unturned. I’ll avoid spoilers just in case anyone encounters either scenario at future cons, but I will mention Volf’s drunken Viking sea shanties, and his attempts at fishing for freshwater herring.

The third game I’d signed up for sadly failed to attract a sufficient number of players, so I ended up joining a game of Munchkin Bites instead, the latest of Steve Jackson Games Munchkin games. This one mercilessly parodies both White Wolf Games and Goth subculture in general. The game ended as a three-way tie with three players all at ninth level, because it was getting late and most of the players wanted to go to bed. I also played in a game of Credo, the game based on the Great Council of Nicea, in which the players represent different factions of the early church attempting to hammer out a Creed. Ours started with “We believe in many gods, including…”, although it went mostly orthodox after that. There were quite a few shorter games, most bizarre of which had to be the Mornington Cresent-like game played of Friday night with assorted dice, empty beer glasses, pencils, bits of paper and empty milk containers.

I’ve already signed up for the Summer Stabcon, on 8th to 10th of July at the traditional summer venue at Woolton Hall in Manchester.

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2004 music roundup

Scott has posted a list of the 17 shows he’s seen in 2004. I’ve only managed a mere five, although that’s five times the number I saw in 2003. All of them are prog-rock of sorts. Biggest regret was missing Rush. Their tour sold out months in advance, before I knew whether or not I’d still be living in Manchester; the perils of being a contractor. Still, these are the bands I did manage to see:

Best of them was probably the last, two days before Christmas.

(*) The Marillion show was the night before I went on holiday, and I never did get round to writing a review. I’ve linked to the very detailed review from The Ministry of Information instead.

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The Phoenyx Fantasy Lexicon Game

There’s a new Lexicon Game starting at The Phoenyx. The first one never really got off the ground after failing to attract a critical mass of players. Hopefully this one might prove more successful, especially since those players from the first time round have learned some lessons about how the game should be played.

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Mostly Autumn, Crewe Limelight

I first saw Mostly Autumn a few months back in Manchester, and immediately wanted to see them again; they were that good. Unfortunately I couldn’t make it to any dates on their November “V” tour due to other commitments, so the next opportunity I had was their Christmas gig at the Limelight Club in the old railway town of Crewe.

Before the show, I met up in the bar at Crewe station with an old friend, Crewe resident Sasha, who I haven’t seen for something like a year. An hour or so (and a couple of beers) later, I set off into the windswept and rainy streets of Crewe in search of the venue, the location of which I had the only the vaguest of ideas. Fortunately The Limelight Club turned out to be roughly in the area I though it was, and I managed to locate it without getting lost.

The Limelight is one of those warren-like clubs, with a maze of twisty passages all alike leading to the main concert hall; I suspect the internal layout must have been designed by someone who used to write Dungeons and Dragons adventures; all that was missing was the neo-otyugh by the bar. Unlike some clubs I’ve attended, they do serve decent beer; unfortunately Mostly Autumn don’t do drum solos.

There’s always something special at a packed gig in a small club with a great band, especially when much of the crowd is made up from hard core fans. Tonight was no exception. Mostly Autumn hit the stage at about half-past nine before an expectant crowd, and certainly did not disappoint.

Mostly Autumn sit at the opposite end of the progressive rock spectrum to bands such as Dream Theater or King Crimson; they’re not about complex time signatures and high energy technical virtuosity that blurs into white noise. Instead they’re about atmospheres and melodies, evoking the wide open spaces of the Yorkshire moors, still classed as ‘Progressive’ because their rich sound is nevertheless an order of magnitude more complex that the fashionable three-chord stuff that seems to pass as ‘rock’ nowadays. Pink Floyd’s Richard Wright is a big fan.

Just to get people worried, only five of the seven appeared onstage for the opening number, ‘Return of the King’ from the “Music Inspired by Lord of the Rings” album, with Bryan Josh singing. But missing members Heather Findlay and Angela Goldthorpe made a dramatic entrance at the end of the song, and they stormed straight into ‘Caught in a Fold’. After that they proceeded with song after song with little or no stage announcements. With a short interval, they played well over two hours of superb music, ranging from Floydian atmospherics and soaring epics through Tull-like hard rockers to folk-rock instrumentals showcasing Angela Goldthorpe’s flute playing.

Much like the last show I saw, the setlist drew heavily from the recent albums “Passengers” and “The Last Bright Light”. They still played the highlights from the first two albums, such as ‘Spirit of Autumn Past’, ‘Evergreen’, ‘The Last Climb’ and ‘Heroes Never Die’, with it’s echoplexed guitar reminding me a lot of the late lamented Twelfth Night. An instrumental section in the middle of the set included ‘Shindig’, with Angela’s flute playing what had originally been the violin part. They also played one new song, ‘Heart Life’, presumably from their forthcoming “Storms over Still Water”.

Being two days before Christmas, the band treated us to some special Christmas encores. First was a spine-tingling rendition of the traditional carol ‘Silent Night’, sung solo by Heather. Then came a version of Greg Lake’s ‘I Believe in Father Christmas’, and Slade’s ‘Merry Christmas Everybody, sung by guitarist Liam Davidson (accompanied by most of the crowd), wearing an elf’s hat with Noddy ears. You can hardly accuse them of taking themselves too seriously with that one. They followed that with ‘Fairytale in New York’. Finally, just in case anyone had forgotten they’re not a pub cover band, they closed with the soaring epic ‘Mother Nature’, which has become their signature song, summing up everything that’s great about the band fifteen minutes.

Setlist:
The Return of the King/ Caught in a Fold/ The Dark Before the Dawn/ Something in Between/ Evergreen/ Half the Mountain/ Close your Eyes/ Simple Ways/ Passengers

The Last Climb/ Distant Train/ Answer the Question/ Shrinking Violet/ Heroes Never Die/ The Spirit of Autumn Past/ Out of the Inn/ Shindig/ Never the Rainbow/ Heart Life

Encores
Silent Night/ I Believe in Father Christmas/ Merry Christmas Everybody/ Fairytale of New York/Mother Nature

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Evil Never Sleeps

While the rest of us were celebrating Chrismas, the bottom-feeding slime of the internet were busy in their trailer parks. I had to delete four hundred comment spams from the same idiot, posted while I was offline from three days. Not a nice thing to come back to. I hope the spammer got a bad case of haemorrhoids for Christmas…

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The British Disease

Chad Orzel is not impressed with The Streets.

I mean, why is this clown getting radio airplay, from “alternative” stations, no less? His “songs” marry plodding, uninteresting beats (“Fit But You Know It” would have the most crashingly dull hook of the year, were it not for the existence of Lenny Kravitz’s “Lady”) to obscure and unintersting British slang, and wraps the whole thing in a “Wot you fink about dat?” accent that’s just this side of Dick Van Dyke in “Mary Poppins”.

I have managed to avoid hearing anything by this possibly overrated act, but it does seem symptomatic of the malaise that seems to affect British music at the moment; everything is hopelessly inward- and backward-looking. ‘Indie’ has effectively become what passes for mainstream rock, and it’s become so conservative and unadventurous that almost all bands sound exactly the same. The cloth-eared music-press scribblers are obsessed with lyrics and don’t appear to have any interest in actual music, which is why we get a diet of three-chord slop or the ‘plodding, uninteresting beats’ of The Streets. And the lyrics are always so parochial that there’s no chance of anyone outside of Britain being able to identify with any of it. Radio just plays whatever rubbish the music press drools over. There is better music around, but it’s completely underground, and has trouble finding an audience. The best bands aren’t even on the media’s radar screen.

There will not be a decent music scene in Britain until the last commercial radio DJ is strangled by the last copy of the New Musical Express.

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A Train for the Weekend?

I am not at all sure what to make of this latest product from Märklin. It keeps reminding me of an infamous Dutch TV advertisement featuring an Inter-City 125 and Parson’s Tunnel in Devon. (Link from Martyn Read).

Posted in Railways | 3 Comments

Live Music Tonight!

While some of next year’s shows might be sold out already, I’m still going to see the wonderful Mostly Autumn at the Limelight in Crewe tonight. Fortunately I’ve already got a ticket; I believe this show is close to being sold out (only fifty tickets left on Monday).

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Bummer!

The trouble with being on a short-term contract is you can only plan things two to three months in advance; which means that you have problems with gigs that get sold out months in advance. So it looks as though I’m going to miss out on The Mars Volta in March and Nightwish in February.

I suppose I should look on the bright side. If a Finnish symphonic goth-metal band can sell out an entire tour in a in a country where the music scene was until recently totally dominated by boring navel-gazing indie miserablists or repetitive three-chord garage strummers, then maybe there’s a chance we’ll see more tours by the sorts of proper rock acts that previously only played the occasional one-off shows in London. We can but hope.

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