Sep. 18th, 2009

sensiblecat: (resistance)
In these dying days of New Labour, it seems likely that their most lasting legacy will be the triumph of form over content, spin over substance and the First Law of Blairism, Thou Shalt Be Seen To Be Doing Something.

For example, child protection. There's been no real progress on the meaningful prevention of further "Baby P" type tragedies among the underclass. There are many kids being horribly abused in infancy and growing up into the little terrors who make life a daily misery for their decent and law-abiding neighbours, and the usual response from the social services is to shunt the problem around from agency to agency until a horrible tragedy occurs and the papers are filled with hand-wringing and calls for resignations. However, what we do have is the most ludicrous, draconian and intrusive legislation imaginable about to be enacted in the name of "child protection."

Brought in on the wave of public reaction to the admittedly horrible deaths of Holly and Jessica, two young girls who were murdered by a school caretaker who never should have been in post if the agencies responsible for keeping an eye on him had done their job properly, we are about to see a law brought into force that will mean anyone who so much as offers a lift to a football match or a girl guides meeting to a child not their own, more than once a month, will be expected to register at their own expense (of around £65) to be vetted by child protection agencies. Yes, nice middle-class mums and dads who help out with ferrying around their primary school football team or take it in turns to drive their daughter's friends to camping trips, that means you. Pay to prove you aren't a child molester, or you're breaking the law.

Of course the effect this will have on the safety of our most vulnerable children is minimal. If anything, it could isolate them even more by driving away sincere volunteers from working with young people. How many students or small Brownie Packs can afford to spend £65.00 on vetting somebody who may only be around for a term?

But this culture of appearances goes deeper than that. For example, for complex reasons that may be expensive to solve, a school goes into special measures, as my daughter's did a couple of years ago. A new team is brought in and almost invariably they tighten up on uniform rules. As a child of the liberal Sixties, where even to order a little girl to wear a skirt was considered to be an assault on her creativity and freedom, I'm continually amazed by the complexity and strictness of school uniform rules for even the smallest children these days (and remember, in England they can be starting compulsory education well before the age of four). Because school uniform is an easy target, a very obvious way to create the illusion of control.

Yesterday my daughter's most intelligent, independent and capable friend - someone we hold up to her as a role model, spent the entire day sitting alone in silence outside the Headmaster's office, missing an entire day's lessons at the start of her GCSE year. She comes from a professional home, her mother works in a far more demanding, deprived school than my daughter's, and because she refused to walk away from the class she was teaching in order to collect her child and voluntarily exclude her, this cruel and unusual punishment was inflicted - to the extent that the girl wasn't even allowed to see her friends at lunchtime.

Her crime? She turned up in grey and white striped socks, instead of the regulation black.

Thus is Blairism pacified. Thou shalt be seen to be Doing Something, and in the interests of same, it is perfectly all right to pick an easy target and let the real trouble-makers go their merry way.

My son is offering to organise a mass rebellion, and have everyone turn up in grey socks and V masks on the appointed day. I am so very proud of him.

Muse-ic

Sep. 18th, 2009 09:03 am
sensiblecat: (resistance)
I've been reflecting on the way I acquire and experience music has changed over the years. My adolescence was back in the days of vinyl, when singles cost six bob and a highlight of Saturday morning was going into town and buying the latest one. Stereo was a novelty, as was recording your tinny voice on a primitive cassette recorder.

Now I can barely remember the last time I actually bought a CD. Probably to listen to in the car, and that too will change with our next vehicle, which will have an MP3 dock built in. If I buy new music at all I download (being quaint and old-fashioned, I tend to do these things legally). I recently acquired an iPhone and it's changed my life. Shallow I my be, but I do love the feeling of hearing a song on the radio and having it there in my phone ten minutes later. Saves a fortune in bus fares.

Increasingly, I don't even pay directly for the music I listen to - I just stream it in on Spotify and find that there aren't all that many songs I listen to regularly months or years after their release. It makes you far more adventurous when you don't have to pay for things you might not even like.

At the gym, I use a separate iPod - I don't feel comfortable working out with a phone hanging around my neck and anyway I don't have the required lanyard - I'm not even sure they exist for iPhones (correct me if I'm wrong). I have a selection of playlists put together by my teenage son, selected on the basis of BPM, and very motivational it is too.

My latest download is the new Muse album. I quite like it, though I think the meaning of the word "reference" varies between the music industry and academia. In the latter, referencing means very precise laws of attribution and quotation. Muse, however, seem to borrow liberally and shamefully from everybody from Chopin (they use an entire Prelude of his) to Freddy Mercury. I think some of the shifts work better than others - for example, United States of Eurasia starts off as Bohemian Rhapsody lite, throws in a bit of Middle Eastern stuff and ends up with said Prelude. It all sounds a bit like genre surfing on your iPod.

The opening track, Uprising, is probably the strongest but I defy anyone on my flist to listen to it without imagining a blue box shooting through the Vortex. It's ironic that fanfiction writers slave over elaborate disclaimers, while Muse seem free to lift the Doctor Who theme wholesale, make money out of it and call it a tribute.

Finally, this made me laugh. An excellent contrast to the operatic pomp of Muse's Exogenesis.

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