31. 1. 2010

January - one long trail of deadlines, ending with a personal live spoon bending demonstration by the one and only Uri Geller himself. More about that later.

Earlier in January, just when Britain had morphed into a more densely populated version of Alaska, the kind people of Folio NZZ sent me to Todmorden in the Pennines. This was to report on the progress of a local campaign to make this town self-sufficient in terms of vegetables, fruit, meat and dairy by the year 2018. Incredible Edible Todmorden (pronounced Thod-me-den, with the emphasis on the o) is a truly interesting concept, turned into practice by a remarkably focused and devoted group of people. Many corners of municipal land previously loved only by dogs and prickly bushes have been turned into artichoke, carrot or beetroot beds, by the train station is a potato patch, there are herb gardens everywhere, in front of the police as well as the fire station and the car park of the supermarket they have planted cherry trees. The local schools are fully integrated in the plans, the kids are taking part with great enthusiasm in communal gardening parties. Everyone I met - including Mary Clear and Pam Warhurst who started the ball rolling, Nick Green, who took me on a garden tour of Tod, Tony Mulgrew, the passionate manager of the school cantine, and Madness-fan Estelle Brown who looks after their website (http://www.incredible-edible-todmorden.co.uk/) - was a joy to talk to. No encounter was more pleasurable, however, than that with Mark Dempsey, Calderdale Council's "Support Services Manager" whose job it is to look after the parks (plus, he is responsible for keeping the roads rubbish-free). I came away from our talk with the impression that here was a man who loved his work and enjoyed nothing more than seeing wild plants and trees thrive. He was clearly thrilled by the fact that more and more people were now coming round to his ways of seeing and treating nature.

The month also included a couple of films. First was Nowhere Boy, Sam Taylor-Wood's portrayal of the pre-Beatles John Lennon's deeply ambivalent relationships with both his largely absent mother and aunt Mimi, who brought him up. A tidy film which was a bit too slick and neat for my taste. Next was "Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll", the rude, often inexcusable and wildly funny life of Ian Dury packed into an entertaining 90 minutes or so. I suspect the film got at least one star out of every 4-out-of-5-star reviews it received in Britain just for the incredible performance of Andy Serkis in the lead role, an assessment with which I thoroughly agree. All actors, though, were very good.

Another excellent commission, this time from the Swiss magazine books, offered me the opportunity to read a pile of novels and stories by T.C. Boyle in preparation for an interview - only by telephone, alas - with the great raconteur. Question: "What do you tell your students when they moan about writers' block?" Answer: "I tell them if their work isn't in by Tuesday it's a fail."

Here's a conversation that happened in my other Stammkneipe apart from Father Ted's, The Blue Post in Berwick Street. I brought in a passing visitor from Germany, and found an old friend sitting, sozzled, on his regular stool by the bar. I introduced the two.

Friend: "So, where do you live?"
Visitor: "Germany."
Friend: "Do you have any relatives there?"
Visitor: "Quite a few, yeah."
Friend: "Mother, father?"
Visitor: (points to the heavens) "Dead."
Friend: "Do you visit them often?"

The only musical encounter of the month was a most enjoyable one: Pat Metheny, who explained with an enthusiasm that went way beyond the duty of PR his latest project, a set-up akin to the old mechanical pianos. This device allows him to be a kind of one-man-band, surrounding himself with a plethora of machines which produce organic sounds and rhythms (as opposed to computer-generated noises), and playing over the top with his guitar. "Orchestrion" is a lovely album, I have to say, even though in the past I preferred the noisier Metheny-records, like "Song X", with Ornette Coleman.

There was, furthermore, the launch event that dare not speak its name. You won't read about it here because I'm allowed only to say that I definitely wasn't there. If anybody asks, I know about it only thanks to my dear Musik Express colleague Josef Winkler who stayed with me when he came to London last week to attend this exclusivest of soirées. Strange, then, in the light of this 007-type secrecy, that two UK publications have already carried big and colourful stories about said masterpiece, the third album of an unusually innovative, funny and yet movingly musical cartoon band. By all accounts - but not mine! no,no,no! - another masterpiece.

Back, at last, to Uri Geller. Last Saturday, I was interviewed for a program to be shown in March on RTL television in Germany about Michael Jackson. After me, I found out, they were going to talk to Geller about his friendship with Jackson. Naturally, I stayed on to hear what he had to say. He was eloquent, believable, interesting - and efficient. He didn't bother with make-up, just threw himself in the chair and said: "let's go." When time was up, he grabbed his puffer jacket and suddenly said: "Hey, would you like me to bend a spoon for you?" The six of us crowded around him as he picked a tea spoon from the hotel trolley. As he kept chatting away, he rubbed the spoon gently under the crook between handle and bowl. We all watched intently whilst Geller casually chatted on. As the spoon slowly began to bend he handed it over to one of the crew, saying: "It'll keep bending for a minute or two." And so it did. At the hand-over, the angle was perhaps 45 degrees. A minute later it was 90 degrees. Leaving us all just all little mind-boggled.