E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

Imploding The Mirage , as critics and reviewers will quickly inform you, is a title that refers to the famous Las Vegas casino's demolition, which made way for something arguably even snazzier, or more empty. Born in Vegas, that most artificial and symbolic of American places (famous for gambling, glitz, misadventure, criminal origins, and mass murders), The Killers - named after a Hemingway-based film noir, but following in the footsteps of numerous rock acts that have signalled their outlaw claims with similar names ( Jerry Lee Lewis was called The Killer) - are a very American rock band. That their lead singer, Brandon Flowers , is famously a Mormon and allegedly a straight arrow, albeit flamboyant on stage, only adds to the resonant enigma - they are part of the myth of the American Dream, while in classic post-modern mode, nod to the artifice, albeit a non-nihilistic one with a God. Their inoffensive, hummable songs, mainly about broken hearts, yearning, broken lives, and ho...

MAJOR TORY POET Few if any Tories in the current government (now dissolved until after the hung parliament) would want to admit it, but one of their own is a published poet, the right honourable Norman Cuthbert , MP from Twillick-upon-Roundabout South, a Surrey constituency that is most famous for having hosted more episodes of BBC Radio 4's Gardeners Question Time than any other in the UK.  Cuthbert (pictured) happily agreed to let Eyewear feature one of his poems today, on the understanding that we briefly discuss his position on Europe, immigration, and poetics. Mr Cuthbert, the son of an Anglican vicar and a music hall dancer who was famous for juggling large balls, grew up with a stern, patriotic fervour and a bit of a gift for panto. Having attended Eton, where he was particularly fond of rifle practice, the burgeoning poet-politician soon found himself at Oxbridge, where he managed to get three Firsts, a Second, and a Half, in Ancient and Modern Languages; he al...

Sir Andrew Motion , on BBC radio 4 this morning, explained his support for the campaign to place a stone for Ted Hughes in Poet's Corner, which culminates tonight in a ceremony, overseen by Seamus Heaney : powerful advocates indeed.  Motion claims that "Hughes is one of the two or three greatest poets of the twentieth century" - which is a staggering claim, not easily substantiated.   Yeats, Eliot, Stevens, Hardy, Thomas, Larkin, Auden , and indeed Plath , would be jostling for a place in that league table, I am sure (among others).  But that is to carp, perhaps.  Despite the fact that Hughes apparently led a destructive personal life it appears the final reward for "major" male poets in England is to be eternally lauded.  Hughes is a large presence, and a strong influence on many younger poets, still - particularly due to the violence of his diction and syntax, and his unusual perspective on nature and animal life.  In England, at least, it is now safe to...

I saw Jerusalem last night at the Apollo Theatre in London, just as it returns to London after its triumphant Broadway reincarnation, where lead Mark Rylance won the Tony for Best Actor, and where it was nominated for Best Play ( War Horse won by a nose).  The sense of excitement in the audience was palpable - Keira Knightly was in the row ahead of me, cuddling up to a handsome young man - it was that sort of vibe.  I came to the play without any sense of how good it was meant to be.  I was in fact a bit put off by the subject - a drunken Romany squatter - and thought it might be an angry State of England Play.  Instead, the last ten minutes are the most purely dramatic and moving I have ever experienced in the theatre, and I have seen hundreds of plays since I was a kid, in New York, Toronto, London, and Stratford-upon-Avon. Butting up against an extremely raw, ugly and authentic sense of a broken Britain of promiscuous, foul-mouthed, drug-addled youth, and an...

England is enjoying the hottest October 1st on record today - it is set to be 29 Celsius in some parts.  With the sun comes a sense of simple satisfaction: heaven to be alive at this time, in this place.

The Mercury Prize, 19 years old, has had a mixed past.  It's chosen duds, and brilliant albums.  What it has done is select the 12 "best" albums of popular music each year, made in Ireland or Britain, from an eclectic genre-list, of avant-jazz to hip hop to nu-folk, and all stops in between.  Famously, PJ Harvey , who won again last night, making her the Don Paterson of the music world, first won exactly a decade ago, on September 11th.  That time, the album was Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea , her finest work, until Let England Shake appeared earlier this year.  It is, as I have written earlier at Eyewear , an album for the ages, one crafted with the sort of literary intelligence we normally associate with poets.  Speaking of Englishness in the context of war and empire, it could not have come at a more apt moment, and to win on the eve of the first decade of 9/11 is an unusually satisfying cultural moment of deserved recognition. ...

15 Years of the SPICE GIRLS by James Christopher Sheppard It’s exactly 15 years since the Spice Girls burst onto the British music scene with ‘Wannabe’ and stormed to number one. In July 1996 an unknown all-girl pop group were suddenly all over television and radio promoting a song more pop than pop itself, about really really wanting a zig-a-zig-ah and friendship never ending. The sentiment was fresh and girl power was born. The group were hard to miss, with each girl having their own individual style, which at the time was practically unheard of in the pop world. Prior to Ginger, Baby, Sporty, Scary and Posh , the commercial music industry, particularly in the UK, was dominated by indie pop bands like Oasis , Blur and Radiohead, the super divas Celine Dion and Mariah Carey , and boybands that dressed the same like Take That and Boyzone . Despite their beginnings as a manufactured group, Geri, Melanie C, Emma, Melanie B and Victoria broke away, wrote their own songs, got ...

I have received, recently, one of the most thoroughly enjoyable books of poetry I have read of late - Reading Poetry: An Anthology .  From Two Rivers Press, and edited by  Peter Robinson , it puns on the fact that this is actually a very local anthology, of poets writing from and about the much-maligned town of Reading (home to Ricky Gervais ).  Robinson observes that Rimbaud had an address here; Jane Austen was schooled here; Wilde was gaoled here. What makes the anthology so refreshing is that it isn't grandiose in its claims - this isn't the best of anything.  Indeed, Robinson's introduction is a model of true modesty.  These are simply poems by Reading-based poets, each prefaced with a poet's commentary on how this place has or hasn't impacted on them.  As it turns out, Reading, for all its small-town Englishness, has a thriving poetry community. The poems - mostly in the Larkin line - are well-written, observational, clever, and amusing.  I...

As everyone in the world knows, today there will be a Royal Wedding, and Kate and William will be the lucky couple.  It would be churlish to not wish them well.   Eyewear is hopelessly romantic about marriage, and believes that it is an institution well worth preserving.  Love, too, needs no encomiums from me - its worth is much appreciated both here in England and abroad.  What then, the problem?  I suppose none, for the time being.  It is better that the couple be married in public, in daylight, rather than elope at midnight.  Their wedding is enchanting, and appealing, and, yes, romantic.  However, the romance which arises naturally from the occasion is an off-shoot of the Fairytale.  All weddings are predicated on magic and ritual - either the magic rituals of the priest who binds them, or the imaginative fancy of the secular participants.  Even if Elvis is the ringmaster and the binder, there is magic.  It is the magic of...

PJ Harvey has often made great indie pop, and great experimental albums - but rarely both at once; a few times neither.   Let England Shake is her masterwork, and an early candidate for Album of 2011.  It is, firstly, strange - uncanny - even - and indeed, her unheimlich take on being at home is the purpose of this song cycle, which seeks to locate the roses and fogs of England amidst the carnage the nation's imperial aims have caused; England, for Harvey is a self-harmer.  Harvey's vocals here are falsetto, tremolo - weird - a bit Mercury Rev , a bit J Newsom .  The off-kilter retro stylings of the songs (including male backing singers that sound positively Lawrence Welk ) lend a timeless, thrilling, unsettling quality - as if the inspiring soundtrack was The Singing Detective . Writing of the bloodbath of World Wars - and using 'Strange Fruit' as a model (according to interviews) - Harvey seeks to work through the paradox of an England that is "drunken beatin...

Sad news.   William (Bill) Lloyd has died.  Bill was the Porter, for the past 18 years, of the Leith Mansion Blocks in Maida Vale - a job he took on in retirement.  He was in his 80s, but hard-working and fit.  As a younger man he'd been a gymnast and fitness trainer with the British Army (SAS), then a professional footballer with Luton, so he retained that sense of physical confidence.  Bill was friendly and liked a drink in his beloved sports club down the road.  He had met his partner (20 years his junior) in his late 50s, at a pub, and they instantly connected, as both loved sports.  He enjoyed spending time in Greece, when not on the job. Bill was an exceptionally dedicated and professional porter, from the old school where politeness and excellence mattered.  He was known to everyone on the street, and in the many flats he looked over.  He made sure that everything was ship-shape, and he didn't tolerate mess, clutter, or too much noi...

Let us not compare riots - Haiti is currently facing tragedy as it collapses into cholera-induced anarchy - and the international cyber-rioting against major online retailers continues - so that some paint and such thrown at the future King of England and his wife might seem small beer.  Except, let us catch our breath, and reflect: when was the last time that Royalty in England was in such immediate peril?  We now have a face for this upsurge of rage against these pitiless penny-pinching prunings.  Students of the world unite!  Meanwhile, China has shown itself to be Philistine Numero Uno for its bald and bold retorts to the Nobel prize.  What a week.  Just wait until Burma gets nukes...

I was on a National Express train yesterday at 10.30 am - delayed for more than half an hour because of weather - travelling First Class (tickets bought well in advance can be quite reasonable) for a change.  Never again.  When asked by the service manager if I wanted to order anything from the new generous-looking breakfast menu, I asked for tea and toast.  He became defensive, and told me I could only have these if I ordered a set menu meal, such as an omelet, for around £8. Pointing out that tea and toast were priced at £1 on the menu as extras, he refused to sell them to me separately.  So much for "first class service" - indeed, service of any kind.  It might have been nice to have something hot on such a cold day.  He did say I could go to the buffet car, of course (for second class travellers) rendering the whole idea of first class at-seat service absurd.  When I want to the buffet, the chef was truculent, and verging on menacing , leaning ov...

A number of British luminaries has set out to welcome "Pope Ratzinger" to Britain with a letter in The Guardian , which, among other things, suggests the Church has "resisted signing many major human rights treaties and has formed its own treaties ("concordats") with many states which negatively affect the human rights of citizens of those states."  It also calls the Holy See, as a state, a "fiction".  The letter is below. If the signatories of this dishonest and petty letter had made such conspiratorial claims about the Jewish faith (that it was simply an attempt to "amplify international influence") or the Islamic faith, they would be considered intolerant bigots.  But, this is England, this is anti-Catholicism, and no such boundaries of polite discourse exist.  I find it shocking, and frightening. A few brief comments.  In England, the rights of Catholics until recently were severely curtailed, and at the time of John Donne , a ...

Raoul Moat - as everyone in England knows - is on the run.  He is a big man - a body builder - and he has allegedly shot and killed his ex-girlfriend's new lover, thinking him a police office, and also seriously wounded her, and another man, a police officer.  He is currently on the run in a remote part of North-Eastern England, in territory he "knows like the back of his hand" since camping there as a child, armed with shotguns.  Today his camp was found, with a letter to his wounded ex-partner.  His previous letter had taunted the police, and claimed he would kill more of them.  That this situation is not going to end well seems unfortunately certain - Moat apparently seeks suicide by cop - but then again, forensic pyschologists now claim he is measured - and, to a degree, appears intelligent enough to elude a small army of helicopters and searchers.  If guilty as charged, then Moat is a villain - but his behaviour has uncomortable echoes of murder balla...

The BBC commentary said it all - abject.  Hammered.  Individuals not a team .  What went wrong?  Top English players went out to the worst English result in a World Cup.  Ever.  Yes, the second England goal was stolen.  That was an outrage.  But there was no defence.  Precious little offence.  Germany outclassed England when it mattered in South Africa.  In four years time, hopefully, lessons will have been learned.  This great nation deserves players worthy of the world-class heart of its fans.  Germany, meanwhile, could go all the way.

Why is that when the Olympics roll around, Team GB competes for these isles, but at the equivalent World Cup, England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland (the UK "nations") have their own potential teams. This seems odd, if not wrong. Surely, a British football team would make more sense, - in terms of sure-footedness. There is no English parliament, and no England seat at the UN. France, Brazil, Spain, South Africa, the US of A - all teams. There is no Texas team. England maybe should be its own nation state, just as Scotland and Wales could be (should be?) - but in the meantime, let's consider this - if all four of the great nations of the UK played together in the beautiful game's greatest contest, they'd quadruple their chances of raising the trophy high.

The BBC 4 morning radio programme today featured a brief discussion of the cultural language differences between the US and UK which have tended to exacerbate the current Gulf of Mexico Spill Disaster's impact.  It seems perhaps a sign of BBC-media-navel-gazing to think that language is the main spur of the rage around the crisis, when perhaps massive environmental, social and economic degradation has more to do with it.  Yet, as we now know, Tony Hayward , BP's hardhat-wearing bumpkin, has infuriated an entire nation, and is now almost as hated as Osama bin Laden .  According to this BBC discussion, the idea was mooted that Hayward's accent and way of speaking itself was a red rag to the Yankee bull.  I would not be surprised.  Sometimes, it is is possible to misread (from a NA perspective) English sarcasm / wit as mere rudeness, especially when expressed in the sort of accent one associated with Nazi villains from the movies.  However, most of us are sop...

Today is the feast-day of Our Lady of Walsingham . As Robert Lowell wrote, in his great, grandiose, Four Quartets riposte, "The Quaker Graveyward In Nantuckett": VI OUR LADY OF WALSINGHAM There once the penitents took off their shoes And then walked barefoot the remaining mile; And the small trees, a stream and hedgerows file Slowly along the munching English lane, Like cows to the old shrine, until you lose Track of your dragging pain. The stream flows down under the druid tree, Shiloah's whirlpools gurgle and make glad The castle of God. Sailor, you were glad And whistled Sion by that stream. But see: Our Lady, too small for her canopy, Sits near the altar. There's no comeliness At all or charm in that expressionless Face with its heavy eyelids. As before, This face, for centuries a memory, Non est species, neque decor, Expressionless, expresses God: it goes Past castled Sion. She knows what God knows, Not Calvary's Cross nor crib at Bethlehem Now, and the wor...