The Hunter and The Hunted

It's time the world knows. I have a secret hobby. Discussing it feels very uncomfortable as the 20 year-old self-destructive me would certainly not approve. Honestly, I don't know how it came to this, but for at least the last four years I have run almost every weekend. There - that feels better. My name is Trevor Ludlow and I'm a runner.

If I look back it would seem to stem from my wife's interest in personal fitness and the guilt I felt watching her head out to the gym whilst I sat hung-over on the couch playing computer games. At the time there was a gym around the corner from our house, so I only had to make the most minimal of efforts to join, which I did as part of my never-ending and often futile-seeming quest to impress my wife.

I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. The mental benefits were almost instantaneous as a workout at the gym made me feel less compelled to hunt down and kill strangers who would cut me off in traffic. I was also less likely to slam cold-calling salesmen's legs in my front door. The physical benefits took a bit more work, but over time I went from looking like a wasted heroin addict (which I never was - don't do drugs, kids!) to a regular human being.

People who knew that I was going to the gym often wondered how I could stand being in such a meat market - and I agree, there probably were a lot of people checking each-other out, but this never made me feel self-conscious. The sad truth is I don't think I've attracted any female attention (warranted or not) this century, so it was nothing for me to be concerned about. I'm bad at gauging this sort of thing anyway, but I've noticed my status with the ladies declining over time from a point where a waitress might give me an extra scoop of ice-cream and a sly wink when I ordered desert; to now, where audible sighs emanate from dead eyed waitresses when I ask for some sugar for my coffee - before they go on to give me the wrong change. I can understand, however, that women might not like unwarranted attention from sweaty, testosterone-fuelled, preening alpha males at the gym, which is certainly why gyms like Fernwood are so popular.

I suppose the thing that stopped me going eventually was the whole humourlessness of the affair (and the incessant blaring techno). I remember watching one guy place every available weight on one machine and then trying to bench the whole lot while making sounds like he was giving birth at a volume that made the whole gym stop and stare at him. I couldn't help myself and started laughing - I got a lot of angry stares from other gym members.

Other life-changing things happened around this time. We moved from Brisbane to Melbourne and also had a baby. This meant that the gym was no longer around the corner, and besides, now I had absolutely no money to pay for gym fees. Instead I took up running at Royal Park which was near our house in Kensington. At first I could barely run a lap (about one kilometre), but over time I could manage about 10 or 15 laps. It was great to be out in the open air, but running around a circular track often felt futile. There is a monument to the Burke and Wills expedition at Royal Park which I would often stare at and this may have contributed to the feeling of futility.

When we moved from Kensington to Coburg, however, we moved near Merri Creek which has a track that follows the creek for about 15 kilometres and is much more conducive to the feeling that you're doing something worthwhile. It's a really nice run and as long as you're not running along in the blazing sun or being chased by the unregistered trail bike riders, then it's quite relaxing.

I must admit that probably the best thing about going for a run is me-time. The outdoors is like my own mobile lounge-room. I'd never consider going out without my trusty iPod and I can catch up with podcasts such as WTF with Marc Maron and the Ricky Gervais Show (I now consider these people to be friends). I also get to listen to things which are unsuitable for my daughter's ears and music my wife doesn't like. Occasionally a rabbit will hop across the path. It feels like some kind of Disney movie with a filthy soundtrack.

As with any endeavour, running has its cliches and whenever I mention to someone that I run on weekends, the first thing they mention is the movie 'Forrest Gump'. For those unfamiliar with the film, there is a moment where Forrest Gump gets up one morning and suddenly runs across America for no reason in particular. I always smile and nod when people mention this, but there is a grain of truth to it. Sometimes when I'm running along there is a feeling that I'm running away from something or that something is running after me. It could be some form of primal conditioning left over from cave-man times, or else something could really be after me. Either way, I'm not going to stop running to find out.

I Love Karl Pilkington

Karl Pilkington is probably best know these days as the star of An Idiot Abroad and The Ricky Gervais Show animated series. I first heard about him several years ago as one third of The Ricky Gervais Show podcast, which, for the uninitiated is basically a series of amusing but rambling conversations between friends.

I heard the podcast on a long drive from Melbourne to Sydney. The episode that got me hooked was in season five and featured Ricky Gervais devising a scenario for Karl where his family would be killed if he didn't marry either a monkey or a gay man named Graeme.

Karl was smart enough to know that he didn't want to appear homophobic in front any gay listeners but also didn't want to get any ribbing from his mates down the pub. He cleverly avoided the answer by saying that Graeme wasn't really his type and would instead ask Graeme if he'd seen any monkeys around.

After that road trip I quickly downloaded the previous series and all the subsequent 'Guide to' podcasts as well as 'XFM: From the Vault' compilations (the initial podcasts were a spinoff of Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant's radio show in which Karl was the downtrodden producer). I would listen to these podcasts while jogging on the weekends. Some of Karl's remarks often made me burst out laughing especially when Gervais would extrapolate some of Karl's mystical beliefs to their illogical conclusions. It must have been a strange sight to see someone running and then suddenly fitfully laughing. Running is normally such a sombre pursuit.

The thing that continually makes the podcasts interesting is wondering how the dynamic of the show works and how much Karl is 'in on the joke'. Ricky Gervais assumes the role of 'the bully' (a role he seems to be increasingly prone to accept) and Karl is 'the victim'. Stephen Merchant takes on the role of mediator but both he and Gervais will more likely gang up against Pilkington with science and facts rather than let Karl get away with his poorly researched internet stories and hearsay.

From my many hours of listening I have devised this much about the show:

- Gervais and Merchant seem to be the ones who come up with material to ask Karl about every week. Karl works on his segments which are either Monkey News, Rockbusters or his diary. Early on they were not allowed to meet during the week to discuss the show but I suspect they have a brief production meeting. They do not rehearse the show as such.

- Karl never backs down from an argument no matter how ridiculous and he never laughs. This appears to be a rule because Karl sounded disappointed one time when he was caught out laughing. I don't think Karl is a defined 'character' and most of his thoughts seem to be genuine and spontaneous.

- Ricky Gervais will dismiss something Karl says as 'bollocks' rather than admit there may be a grain of truth in something Karl says.

An example of Gervais dismissing a story can be found in Karl's 'Monkey News' segment. Karl mentioned that he had read on the internet that a monkey brain had been kept alive on 'a stick'. Gervais mocked him for this and said it was impossible. Recently while watching Doctor Michael Molesley's 'Make Me Live Forever' documentary there was a clip of an experiment from the early 1970s in which Doctor Robert White managed to transplant a monkey head onto the torso of another monkey's body. It occurred to me that this is what Karl had probably seen. Gervais, being a former biology student would most likely have been aware of this experiment but refused to give Karl any credit. (BTW if you don't believe me the clip is on Youtube, but I warn you that once you see it you'll never be able to 'unsee' it.)

I'm a fan of the podcasts more than the animated series probably because I've envisioned Karl's stories in my own mind and often prefer my take on things - but occasionally the animation really adds something to Karl's ramblings. One example in the last series is the show in which Pilkington recounted an actual meeting with some film producers in which he pitched a ridiculous premise for a film which he envisioned would star Clive Warren (Karl meant to say Clive Owen) and involved some weird lesbian brain scenario. The animated embodiment of 'Clive Warren' and the subsequent movie segments were both hysterical.

I'm also a big fan of An Idiot Abroad because it makes me realise how much Karl and I have in common. Unlike most travel shows Karl is prone to pointing out what is wrong with a certain destination rather than what is great about it. Examples of this include his visit to the pyramids where he became fixated on all the garbage blowing about in the breeze rather than the pyramids themselves. Also his swim in the Dead Sea was marred when he encountered someone else's snot in the water. Watching this reminded me of postcards I sent back to relatives when I travelled through Europe noting that 'Big Ben isn't that big' and a visit to Disneyland where I remarked that The Magic Castle looks like it's made out of plywood. Perhaps television has conditioned us to expect more out of travelling than reality can possibly deliver.

One problem with An Idiot Abroad is that you realise Karl is more 'in on the joke' than the podcasts would have you believe. There is no way that Karl could be abducted in a training scenario without having some foreknowledge about what is going to happen. The same with his prostate exam in the second series. He would have to give his consent for something so private to be broadcast on national television. Also, the fact that he consented to a second series (and possibly a third) would indicate that he's not as unwilling a participant as you might expect. Karl is nothing but practical, however, and points out that he needs some form of employment.

Ultimately, the thing that is great about Karl is that he has had very little formal education but is always questioning - even if it is a stupid question like 'Jellyfish - Do we need them?'. He's interested in things even if he doesn't quite understand them. He's like that kid in school who puts up his hand and is derided by his classmates for asking a stupid question but secretly everyone in the class was just too afraid to ask. I admire people who aren't afraid to look stupid.

I love Karl but if it was up to me to decide whether to marry a chimp or Karl Pilkington then I would probably choose the chimp - but only just. Looking at some of his photos maybe there wouldn't be too much difference between the two of them but at least the chimp doesn't have a 'head like a fucking orange'.

500 Episodes of The Simpsons

What can be said about The Simpsons that hasn't already been said, eh? That's my challenge writing this blog but also a challenge for the show's writers having to come up with a new series every year.

I've been watching the show from the beginning and I remember not being an instant fan. I'd seen a few of the shorts from The Tracey Ullman Show and thought it was okay, but when the show became a half-hour fully-fledged series it wasn't really given the promotion it deserved.

The advertisers seemed to think that because the show was a cartoon the audience would most likely comprise children, so they focussed on the antics of Bart Simpson and released the woeful late 80s synth-pop number 'Do The Bartman' as a tie-in to the series premier. A lot of merchandise was released also featuring Bart and his incongruous catch phrases such as 'Eat My Shorts' and 'Don't Have a Cow, Man'. These were quickly phased out in the show and Bart's early penchant for catch phrases was openly derided in the  'I Didn't Do It' episode some years later.

I really fell in love with the show when living in a sharehouse with about five other people. We'd watch the new episode every week and had an extensive VHS library of past episodes to tide us over until new episodes were aired. There was nothing better than sitting down with a couple of slices of pepperoni pizza from Ribbets at Auchenflower and a four litre cask of lambrusco.

After watching the show with others it was obvious who the star of the show was - Homer. His unbridled rampaging Id combined with his laziness and his lack of concern for others represented the worst aspects of 'the ugly American' but there was something about him that was sweet and childlike too. In spite of early criticism the show received from detractors, The Simpsons, although dysfunctional, proved to be a pretty solid family unit that loved each other and were more easy to relate to than families on shows like Growing Pains and Family Ties which were so formulaic and saccharine. President George Bush Senior famously said that Americans should be 'more like The Waltons and less like the Simpsons'. He would go on to be lampooned in the show as a Mr Wilson-type character that moves in over the road from Bart's 'Dennis the Menace.'

Simpson-speak became an instant part of our vernacular. This, combined with quotes from 70s Australian television shows, sporting commentators and archaic dad-speak made conversations between me and my friends almost indecipherable to the outsider for the best part of a decade (I think I've recovered to some degree now). But that was the thing - if you could drop a Simpsons quote into a conversation and get a response then you knew the person you were talking to was in a group that was as important and exclusive as The Stonecutters. On one occasion this didn't work in a friends' favour. I remember the look of disappointment on the face of his girlfriend who was not familiar with the show when she realised all the witty remarks that my friend was spouting were all lifted from The Simpsons. The show travelled so much comedic terrain that there was no subject the show didn't touch. Even South Park acknowledged this in the episode 'The Simpsons Already Did It'.

To my mind there are three Simpsons eras. Early episodes focussed on the dynamic of the family when the show looked and sounded more like a deranged Peanuts cartoon. When writers ran out of these family scenarios the show shifted into being about social satire and popular culture. Now the Simpsons' universe is so large that they seem to be able to sustain storylines from their own rich past. This makes it strange when watching new episodes because any guest stars seem to be shoehorned in. The show no longer seems to be a part of this world.

Another way to divide the series up would be to consider episodes to be Phil Hartman episodes or post Phil Hartman. I remember being genuinely shocked and saddened when Hartman was murdered by his wife in 1998 as he seemed such a well adjusted guy and was effortlessly funny. He most notably played attorney Lionel Hutz and washed up actor Troy McLure in The Simpsons and left a gaping hole in the series when he passed away. To their credit, The Simpsons' writers did not replace Hartman with another voice actor but his loss is still felt. Hartman's performance in the musical version of 'Planet of the Apes' is still one of the series highlights and a reminder of when songs in The Simpsons were worthwhile. The 'Songs in the Key of Springfield' album is pretty great but the tunes went downhill after that for some reason. If you're a Hartman fan I also recommend his performance in the role of Captain Carl in Pee Wee Herman live.

Like any Simpsons fan I have my favourite Simpsons moments. I like it when the show gets a little bit surreal and characters act against-type and unexpectedly. Although not particularly funny, one of my favourite clips is when Marge is on the front lawn of the house with sisters Patty and Selma. They have been fighting with Homer. Marge tries to placate her sisters by explaining that Homer is 'a complicated man'. Seconds later Homer sticks his head out of an upstairs window, smashes a plate over his head and exclaims 'No I'm not!'

If I had to pick a low point of the series it would have to be the episode 'That 90s Show' which came out in 2008. The show reimagines the Simpsons' timeline so that Homer and Marge are college-age in the 1990s. Besides some pretty lame references to Nirvana and shows like Melrose Place the biggest deal breaker is the fact that they could have been a bit more imaginative and true to The Simpsons timeline by at least making it a dream sequence. Does this mean that Marge never picked Homer up after a humiliating high school prom or that they never unknowingly met at summer camp when they were children? Even the episode where Principal Skinner was found to be an imposter named Armin Tamzarian was reset at the end when they made Springfielders swear they would never mention Skinner's real identity again 'under pain of torture'.

I suppose this episode made me tune out of the show for a while but I started watching it again. Luckily the writers seem to have learned from the mistake of messing with the timeline. There are still talented people working on the show and over the years Conan O'Brien has featured among the writing staff and Brad Bird has been one of the notable directors that has gone on to do feature films such as The Incredibles and Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. It's undoubtedly a great pool of talent and amazing to think it has lasted this long. When I watch it now it is kind of like watching a modern Rolling Stones concert. Sure, it's not their heyday anymore but I'm still interested in what they're up to and something that has had such a profound impact on popular culture deserves a lifetime pass in my book.

So if a nuclear bomb suddenly lands on me one day and I have a split second left to live, I won't be like Comic Book Guy and declare that I've 'wasted my life' - on the contrary - I've spent a large portion of it watching The Simpsons!

Omega Man

Besides the obvious downside of never being able to see your friends and loved ones again, there is something strangely appealing to me about being the only survivor in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Popular culture would have us believe there are three possible scenarios in which this could happen: nuclear war, an airborne pathogen or the current most popular which is the zombie holocaust.

Nuclear war is the least appealing to me because you'd most likely spend the rest of your life in an underground bunker cowering from outside radiation levels. This would be fine if you managed to store a lifetime's worth of books and DVDs and remembered to pack more than one pair of reading glasses. In the Twilight Zone episode 'Time Enough at Last' there was a scientist who finally had time to read when trapped inside a nuclear bunker but then broke his only pair of reading glasses. Oh, the irony!... Lesson learned.

Zombie holocausts and airborne pathogens would both be fine with me as long as I had somewhere to fortify against zombie attacks and an antidote to the pathogen. It would be important for me to be in a major metropolitan city which had been recently evacuated; I don't want any recently-deceased corpses with agonised expressions showing up as grisly reminders and ruining my fun.

This leaves me free to roam about at will. I would sleep in a different luxurious house every night, drive the most expensive vehicles during the day and almost certainly read your diary. I don't think I'd get up to anything too strange - my repressed Irish-Catholic guilt-ridden background would forbid it. I might just walk around naked and see if my legs look any good in a mini skirt.

Ultimately, I would need to find somewhere safe from rampaging zombie hordes, so a trip across the ocean on a vessel such as the QEII should tide me over until their numbers dwindle. I would search for other survivors while collecting rare antiquities from around the world before returning triumphantly to my homeland of Australia. In Melbourne I might construct a yacht atop the Eureka Tower and in Brisbane I might set up a Salvador Dali Museum in the corner store near where I grew up. I would then have something to watch while playing Space Invaders. The possibilities are endless!

There's something comforting about knowing you'll most likely die by being eaten by a zombie. In the real world you could walk out the front door and get hit by a bus or die in a myriad of other ways. In the post-apocalyptic world the options are fewer. Also, if you were to encounter any other survivors it would be great to know you have a common enemy in the zombies. There is nothing more gratifying than having a common agenda. It would also be a great conversation starter.

I like the idea of living in a world that's frozen in time. It often seems to me that by the time you get a handle on how the world works these days it goes ahead and changes. In the post-apocalyptic wasteland you'd have forever to understand the world's secrets. Still, I probably wouldn't bother finding out about Area 51, The Kennedy Assassination or Harold Holt's disappearance because I'm not a conspiracy nut (I'm obviously a nut of a different kind - see above)

The one drawback for me is that I tend to get lonely and miss people after one afternoon alone and I don't think many apocalypses last a single afternoon. Perhaps it's only a great fantasy if you're a bachelor or an orphan and have no friends. Unfortunately that's not me. I have a daughter and wouldn't want to see her growing up in a world devoid of humanity. She'd need her mother and her immediate family. She'd need friends... and an education... and medical attention too in case anything goes wrong. All these other people would also need their families. This certainly opens the floodgates.

To be a well rounded person she'd also need to hear differing opinions on subjects and points of view that I don't necessarily agree with (it's possible I may not be the genius I take myself for) so those people, I concede, should also be allowed to live. How far do you go in constructing the perfect world? Even though I don't believe in god, does that make it right for me to extinguish all those murderous religious zealots from the world? Wouldn't that make me as bad as them? Maybe they'll learn to chill out.

Don't worry world, if it's up to me to decide who lives or dies rather than some indiscriminate threat, then it's lucky I'm feeling in a generous mood today... Everybody lives!... Except journalist Andrew Bolt... That guy shits me.

This is Hardcore Preservation Society (Part Two)

Last week I tackled The Kinks' 1968 album 'The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society'. This week I'd like to delve into an album that I believe is thematically similar; the 1998 Pulp album 'This is Hardcore'.

Like 'Village Green', 'This is Hardcore' sets the agenda with the first song 'The Fear' in which edge-of-your-teeth guitar feedback accompanies lyrics that tell of the indescribable fear that any 90's Ecstasy user would associate with the inevitable comedown from an artificial high. The high is artificial but the fear is also (or is it?) Lead singer Jarvis Cocker probably realised this album would test most casual fans that came aboard with hit album 'A Different Class' and includes the ominous line 'you're going to like it - but not a lot'.

Pulp started as a band in the early 1980s and slogged it out for years before having a hit in 1994 with the album 'His & Hers' and then being swept up in the whole Britpop phenomenon. Overnight they went from being on the dole to being front page newspaper fodder when Jarvis Cocker famously wiggled his ass in disgust at Michael Jackson at a music awards show. Pulp then went on to court controversy with their hit song 'Sorted for E's and Wizz', which to my mind was a damning satire of the pervading drug culture with lines such as 'Mother, I can never come home again, cos I seem to have left an important part of my brain somewhere, somewhere in a field in Hampshire.'  Nevertheless the tabloids hounded them and as Jarvis Cocker describes in the documentary 'Live Forever' they were even courted by Tony Blair to lend their support for the New Labour party. It's no wonder they followed up Different Class with an album looking at the dark side of fame and giving a two-finger salute to the shallowness of the showbiz industry.

Because they were a bit older and wiser than the average pop band they probably knew they had hit the glass ceiling with the success of 'A Different Class' and pulled out all the stops with the follow-up 'This is Hardcore', knowing they might never be offered this sort of budget to record again. The videos that accompany the album are especially gorgeous (Cocker himself studied film in his youth) with the most notable example being the noir-ish 'This is Hardcore' video which features some Busby Berkeley-esque choreography.

The album itself doesn't really have any singles that are as instantly accessible as 'Common People' and it says something about the sway they had at the time that they were allowed to release a frankly hilarious song about growing old 'Help the Aged' when all the other pop stars at the time were desperately trying to hang on to their youth. Jarvis Cocker was also very witty and I remember an interview where he was asked what colour his hair was before dryly replying with the brand of his hair dye.

It's hard now to imagine a song such as 'A Little Soul' being released as a single by any band - but Pulp did! - and in a perfect world it would be a classic. It's a gorgeous song about a pervading subject on the album - regret. In it Cocker's sleazy alter ego laments that he has 'no wisdom that he wants to pass on' to his child. The video is so simple, but so effective:

Another pivotal song is the single 'Party Hard'. It's probably the most easily accessible song on the album with it's Berlin-era Bowie vocal and its danceable beat but the lyrics tell a different story about people that have nothing to offer beneath the veneer and 'used to have it, but now they've just had it.' This is an album about the comedown from the party and its lingering aftermath, whether it be contemplating your mortality whilst doing domestic chores in the song 'Dishes' or lamenting the fate of Sylvia whose youth and beauty were stolen by a man who 'just wanted to show his friends' and then realising 'I guess I'm just the same as him - but I didn't know it then.' 

It sounds bleak but Cocker's sharp eye for social satire and his own self mockery make it entertaining and even comical. He even lampoons his own unlikely sex-symbol status in the Barry White-esque 'Seductive Barry' which clocks in at almost nine minutes and is perhaps a little testing for the listener.

I suppose another criticism of the album could be that it starts off strongly but then seems to trail off. Cocker himself referenced this in the 'Live Forever' documentary and suggested a stronger ending to the album would have been to replace the song 'Glory Days' with the version they originally recorded which had more biting lyrics and was called 'Cocaine Socialism'. I think he's right that this would have been a bolder statement at the end of the album but it probably wouldn't have sat as well with the other songs. You decide:

Comparing the points of view between Ray Davies' yearning to return to a simpler time and Jarvis Cocker's dystopian yet comical view of a future full of regret, I suppose I'm personally more prone to take Ray Davies side and to romanticise the past like on 'Village Green Preservation Society' - but the past is not really a place I desire to return to. Conversely I don't feel that the future is as bleak as Jarvis Cocker makes out on 'This is Hardcore'. However, on the rare occasion that I find myself doing the dishes (I cook - she cleans up), I do find myself singing the words to Pulp's unofficial anthem for the househusband and the under-utillised - 'Dishes'.

"I'd like to make this water wine, but it's impossible

 - I've got to get these dishes dry"

I even find these words from the song quite comforting:

"I'm not worried that I'll never touch the stars

 'cos stars belong in heaven and the earth is where we are"

Perhaps I'm a glass-half-full sort of guy - it's just that the glass contains dirty dish-water. 

This is Hardcore Preservation Society (Part One)

Two of my all-time favourite albums are from vastly different eras but in my opinion are thematically very similar. The older album is by The Kinks, was released in 1968 and has the lumbering title The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society. The newer album was released in 1998 by another British band called Pulp and is called This is Hardcore. Both albums (whether knowingly or not) dealt with transitional periods in music and culture and were delivered by bands that were disillusioned with success and burnt out from touring.

Jarvis Cocker from Pulp turned his gaze towards a dystopian (albeit hilarious) future while Ray Davies from The Kinks turned his attention towards the past with a batch of songs that have more of a pastoral theme than The Kinks usual R&B sound. I could go on and do a very long post encompassing both albums, but instead I'll spread this over two weeks and focus on The Kinks this week.

The Kinks are The Village Green Preservation Society sets the agenda in the eponymous first song. It is basically a call to save an England that is dying (or perhaps never even existed): a world of little shops, china cups and virginity on the one hand and fictional villains like Fu Manchu, Moriarty and Dracula on the other. There's even a call to preserve Donald Duck but I'm not sure how he fits in (I always thought he was American)

The album yearns for a romanticised youth on the village green, the girl Davies left behind when he went to seek fame and speculates about what happened to his old mate Walter (cynically, Davies predicts that Walter is 'fat and married and always home in bed by half past eight'). The end of the sixties and the hippie dream is also foreshadowed in songs such as Phenomenal Cat (The song is about a cat who sits in a tree and eats his way through eternity) and the rocker Big Sky which sums up Davies' existential angst about railing against a universe that doesn't seem to care one way or another. In short it is a soothing album to listen to when you finally come to the realisation that you're 'growing up'.

Photography is also a theme in two songs: People Take Pictures of Each Other and Picture Book. In Davies excellent fictional autobiography X-Ray (Davies recounts his past but also imagines his future self) he posits the theory that photographs always lie and that you can never catch the feeling of a moment through a photograph. Thinking back to all the family holiday snaps and school photos where you're forced to smile when really you'd rather be anywhere else, makes me think he might have been on to something. It's kind of ironic that Picture Book was used in a Hewlett Packard ad when Davies doesn't have much respect for the art-form of photography.

Davies does romanticise the past but he also references his (at the time) fragile mental state in the song All of my Friends Were There in which he recounts a night where he was unable to sing at a concert and noticed that all his friends (and their best friends too) were in attendance. He then goes on to describe laying low for a few weeks due to embarrassment before being thankfully able to take the stage once again and not missing any notes. A spooky song about a witch called Wicked Annabella might even be an insight into his opinion of women at the time.

The album isn't quite thematically linked enough to be considered a 'concept album' but it is a pre-cursor to this form of album. The last really great Kinks album was probably the early 1970s album Muswell Hillbillies which tackles themes of urban renewal; after this The Kinks seemed to fully embrace the concept album and arena-touring spectacular stage of their career which was not as exciting for me.

Village Green Preservation Society probably got a re-release in the late 90s because The Beach Boys' 'Pet Sounds' was being discovered by a new generation of fans. Many people believe Village Green is Ray Davies' 'Pet Sounds' because it is similar in that it was considered a flop at the time, featured more intricate and personal arrangements and was released at a tumultuous time in the bands' career. I don't think The Kinks were ever allowed a budget to record anything as intricate as Pet Sounds, but I think that works in their favour because they work quickly, don't over-think things and the urgency comes through in the performances. To this day I'm more inclined to put on Village Green over Pet Sounds.

Maybe music fans were also aware that the alterna-rock craze that was dominant in the 1990s was also coming to a close and that the melancholy vibe of Village Green was a good soundtrack to the changing of the guard as mainstream rock gained dominance again. Personally, after a few years slogging away in unheralded and mostly forgotten indie bands in Brisbane, it was the perfect soundtrack as I considered returning to the workforce and explaining to employers what I had been doing for the last few years.

God save The Village Green.

Next Week: Pulp - This Is Hardcore.

The End

Okay, I've been doing this blog for a  month now and it's time to address some criticism: 

SCREW YOU!

No, seriously, the thing most mentioned (in fact the only thing) is that I said the ending to Blazing Saddles was a 'major flaw' in the film. This is not contrary to my opinion that Blazing Saddles is my favourite comedy. Have you tried living in the real world? There's not much around this place that's perfect. Blazing Saddles is like a beautiful Persian rug - there is a deliberate flaw built in so as not to upset Allah (or something). Okay, the ending in Blazing Saddles wasn't deliberately bad (nobody sets out to make a bad movie) but it was unsatisfying and similar to a lot of other endings that were around in the late 60s - early 70s.


I suspect a lot of directors and scriptwriters were so out of their heads on hallucinogenic drugs back then that none of them could get it together to finish a film. Examples off the top of my head include Peter Sellers' The Party where everybody ends up in the swimming pool and the previously mentioned Monty Pythons' Search for the Holy Grail where the police unexpectedly turn up before an epic battle. In a way the Monkees' film 'Head' is just a series of weird endings strung together (RIP Davy Jones). I don't want to even get into the ending of my favourite sci-fi film 2001: A Space Odyssey (What is it with me and loving films that don't end properly?)


I suppose these endings at the time seemed to represent the carefree anything-goes spirit of the 1960s but in hindsight a lot of these films just look like the directors just ran out of ideas. Things that can seem revolutionary at the time can end up as a punch line later on: Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's dad, The chick from The Crying Game is really a man, The main character was dead all along.

When I was at University my scriptwriting teacher always said he hated Agatha Christie novels because you could always guess who the murderer was - it was always the person you least expected. In a way trying to always deliver a twist ending is a trap in itself. Just look at M. Night Shyalaman's filmography and all the weary jokes that come out whenever he announces a new film.


For a story to be truly resonant it has to be remembered for something more than an ending - there have to be themes that stick with you after you consider a movie or book. This is why most of my favourite stories I usually feel luke-warm about upon completion, but enjoy immensely when the rusty penny drops.


One of my favourite authors is Raymond Carver. He wrote short stories which were mostly ambiguous slice-of-life tales about ordinary people. The stories dropped in at a certain points in characters' lives and then left again with no obvious resolution. There were some films made of his books, the most famous being Robert Altman's Short Cuts, but other notables include the Will Ferrel film Everything Must Go and the Australian film Jindabyne which is based on the Carver story So Much Water So Close to Home.


The story  focuses on some buddies going on a fishing holiday who discover the body of a murdered woman. If this was a Hollywood story this would be a jumping-off point for some sort of 'let's catch the bad guy' thriller, but instead the guys just tie the body to a tree and continue their fishing trip for a few days, only reporting the death when they return to civilization. The story really concerns the main protagonist's  wife and how she reacts to her husband having so little regard for human life and the discovery of being in a relationship with a man whose behaviour borders on sociopathic. In the film Jindabyne the action is transferred to Australia and the body discovered is also of Aboriginal descent which further comments on how Australians treat their Indigenous countrymen.


There is no real resolution in this story, just degrees of guilt and complicity in a crime that is never solved, but there is a lot to consider which makes it a satisfying tale in my book. I'm less likely to complain about a stock ending in the myriad of superhero films that pop up every summer and it always surprises me when people complain about weak plots in films based on two-dimensional worlds where people are clearly defined as good-or-evil. In most genre films the hero has to win the day to keep the fans happy.


So in the interests of not over-intellectualising this blog I would just like to finish with some satisfying endings for you:

He rescued the girl and saved the entire planet.

And that is what I did on my Summer holidays.

And they all lived happily ever after.

And then he woke up!

The End

Fin