Credits are currency in this town...

'Big time, Bill! Big time, big time...!', as that old rock 'n' roll cove Ronnie Hawkins cried cheerfully (to Bill Graham, one assumes) near the start of The Last Waltz. Yes, I finally have my very own entry on the Internet Movie Database - the first, that is, under my current stage name, as 'Richard T. Kelly (Writer, "Coming Up: Eclipse (#8.6)" (2010))'. However, owing to past problems with consistency and consolidation, and the difficulty in finding the time to pursue these matters, it remains the case that I am also the IMDB's 'Richard Kelly (III) (Self, The Name of This Film Is Dogme95 (2000))' and also its 'Richard Kelly (VI) (Miscellaneous Crew, Lee Marvin: A Personal Portrait by John Boorman (1998)'. That's the problem with having a familiar name. Still, if the day should dawn that someone feels like typing up a Wikipedia entry on me (everybody else has got one), then they'll want to know this stuff...

A great hope fell, the ruin within, etc

I’m often left feeling sick around 4.50 on a Saturday afternoon, but that’s because I’m a Newcastle fan. Some might say I’m inured to losing, that losing, indeed, is my ‘comfort zone’, and accordingly that my being a David Miliband supporter fits firmly into that trend – since rumour has it the Labour leadership result is ‘certified’, and the polling/betting tendencies of recent days would strongly suggest that younger, shorter brother of his is home. Jesus wept. At least I can watch the football scores come in at ease... but then the Toon aren't playing Stoke until Sunday anyhow.
But somebody please do wake me up whenever this curious Ed Miliband character has demonstrated an iota of worth. I will have to avoid the airwaves tomorrow, as I strongly anticipate a number of interviews with a euphoric Neil Kinnock… Still, as before, at least I’ll have to find something else ‘political’ to blog about now. Wonder what’s happened to that Purnell fella…? Has Alan Milburn started attending cabinet meetings…? Maybe I need to make a fresh assessment of what’s-his-face Clegg…

The Friends of David M

A shout out/back to Mark Nottingham, Labour councillor and blogger, who seems to have enjoyed the sport of my previous post on teenage pop-rock nostalgia, and has just kindly commended this blog of mine to his own readers on the additional grounds of my being agreeably mad for both the Toon and for David Miliband - two noble causes, I'd say, the epousal of which, sadly, seems to bring more sorrow than joy... Still, I do give thanks that this Labour leadership contest is nearly done, for without doubt I need to find something else to obsess/blog about...

15 albums when I was 15...

Currently doing the rounds on Facebook again is one of those pop-cultural chain-letters wherein a friend offers a list of 15 albums that have meant something to them, this list copied to 15 friends and appended with the request that each friend make their own selection of 15 LPs and copy this on to 15 more... Impossible for me to play this game by the stated rules - what, only 15? - but I thought I could put some useful parameters round the exercise and give myself a little Proustian rush by picking 15 albums that had influenced me considerably by the time of my 15th birthday in late 1985... List as follows, roughly in order of when I first heard/bought/taped off a friend the long-player in question.

Blondie, 'Parallel Lines'



The Beatles, 'Revolver'



Talking Heads, 'Remain in Light'



Elvis Costello, 'Imperial Bedroom'



Kraftwerk, 'The Man-Machine'



Dexy’s Midnight Runners, 'Searching for the Young Soul Rebels'



Peter Gabriel, 'Peter Gabriel (IV)'



Echo and the Bunnymen, 'Porcupine'



Bob Dylan, 'Infidels'



Bruce Springsteen, 'Darkness on the Edge of Town'



Frankie Goes to Hollywood, 'Welcome to the Pleasuredome'



Run DMC, 'King of Rock'



New Order, 'Low-Life'



Propaganda, 'A Secret Wish'



Kate Bush, 'Hounds of Love'

Good old common sense in the FT

Because I agree with him, I must say that Phillip Stephens talks customary good sense in the FT on the already wracked state of the ConDemNation, and the resultant opportunity for Labour:
ConDemNation: "Britain’s coalition government set out its plans to eliminate the fiscal deficit in the bright sunlight of certain conviction. A couple of months later, it confronts the chilling realities of shrinking the state...Nick Clegg protested the other day that the spending cuts drawn up in Whitehall were “not dramatically different” to plans laid by the previous government. This softening in the language of austerity says it all. The Liberal Democrat leader once thought “savage” reductions were vital to repair the nation’s finances. Now he must weigh the political costs..."
Labour: "David [Miliband] is the choice of those at the top of the party, who are keen to return to power. Alone, he has talked about rebuilding the coalition that won the party three election victories from 1997. His handicap is that this tags him as the Blairite choice... Ed, the younger Miliband, who could yet win as everybody’s second choice, has offered mostly mush – policies and promises calculated to make the party feel good about itself and about his candidacy... By choosing David Miliband, Labour would be saying it wanted to win back England’s aspirant classes – that it was still serious about power. But the party’s heart could yet rule its head. Mr Clegg – and Mr Cameron – are cheering on the younger of the two brothers."

Bookhugger column #6: Novelists talking on telly

My Bookhugger column last month (last week, frankly) was inspired by the wonderful BBC4 archive series In Their Own Words, culled from the Corporation's back-catalogue of interviews with major British 20th-century novelists. Television does indeed compel us to look at books, so long as the programme-making and writing in question have sufficient spark. It took a while for TV to 'do' book-chat without too many excruciating pauses, but P.G.Wodehouse, here c. mid-1950s, biting amiably but hard on the end of every query, shows himself to be ahead of his time, whatever the culture once thought.

What We Did on Our (Bank) Holiday

This picture just in courtesy of my brother, who was one of our party of nine (inc. 4 kiddies) sharing a big old family-cottage-rental up in Suffolk last weekend. Behind us here is the 16th-century Melford Hall, as impressive up close as it likely seems even in miniature, the lawns of which were as lush and springy as any I've ever laid foot on.

Dublin's the Place...

Tony Blair and I both were in Dublin on business at the tail of last week, but I should say that our paths never crossed; nor did I have to face eggs and shoes thrown at me in public, unlike the ex-PM and memoirist. While over there I did overhear some Irish Robespierre-type interviewed on the radio news, bullishly making known his intention to protest Blair's presence on local soil, based on this pilgrim's own belief that war criminals, liars and scoundrels have no place, no prayer and no mission in Ireland.

With all due respect to (and personal fond regard for) Eire, the Irish, and the proper instinct to fight against evil, I’m not sure I’d have wanted to make so rash a claim as this chap, not in the full and harsh light of Irish history. To take only one instance: in Dublin’s Fairview Park, close to where I was lodging, I happened to pass this civic statue (pictured) of Sean Russell, the former IRA quartermaster who opened up the organisation’s contacts with Nazi Germany in the late 1930s, out of what looks to be ‘physical force’ ideological idiocy (exploiting ‘England’s difficulty’ and all that) rather than any active enthusiasm for the jackboot. Still, the fight against imperialism seems often to entail that one must make a lesser-evil choice between empires. I know that self-styled Trots plus some of the broader church of Not-in-my-Namers think themselves the true-blood scourges of all known and existing nastiness, i.e. for all the Good against all the Bad, be it Right or be it Left – but it’s only their fundamental estrangement from reality and its pains that enables the taking of such high/mighty positions.
My actual business in Dublin concerned current plans for a second and revised edition of my Sean Penn: His Life and Times, first/last published in 2004-05. Since Mr Penn has been around the Liffey shooting a section of his work on Paolo Sorrentino’s new film This Must Be The Place, I was very fortunately able to grab a little time with him on- and off-set to talk over his recent endeavours and roll some tape toward the updating of the book. As for This Must Be The Place, it’s a very exciting prospect – would have been so just on paper for the teaming of Penn with the maestro writer-director of Il Divo. But the bits and pieces of filming I witnessed encouraged me to believe this will be cinema that is highly original, unclassifiable and very, very special.