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

As long time readers of this blog will know, I love Simple Minds , because of, or rather irregardless of, their arch-pomp and poetic mannerisms. The Scottish alt-rockers have had a rocky career, but a fascinating one, of six stages.  From 1979-1982, they were a young new wave synth band, producing albums as beautiful, strange, and artful as any by Joy Division , New Order , OMD , or Depeche Mode - their natural equals. At this stage, they were heavily influenced by German music. Without Kraftwerk , no Simple Minds. This period culminated in arguably the most romantic, visionary and poetic album of the last 35 years - New Gold Dream , which famously promised us a miracle. The second stage of their career followed right on the heels of the massive American success of 'Don't You Forget (About Me)' - a John Hughes film song that has become synonymous with feel-good 80s pop. This led to several LPs - the best of which like Sparkle In The Rain - yielded number one hits that ...

Eyewear Publishing and B7 Media cordially invite you to a post-Broadcast and Paperback launch party for THE BOY FROM ALEPPO WHO PAINTED THE WAR   Written by Sumia Sukkar Dramatised for Radio by Richard Kurti & Bev Doyle   A B7 Production for BBC Radio 4   Saturday, 6-8pm, 8 November 2014 OXFAM SHOP, 91 MARLEYBONE HIGH STREET, LONDON, W1U 4RB   The event will include a reading by the Author, Sumia Sukkar, Book Signing and Q&A   Guest panellists:   Laura Guthrie, LAURA GUTHRIE, PHD RESEACRHER INTO AUTISM AND LITERATURE Bev Doyle and Richard Kurti, RADIO Dramatists Imran Ahmad, COMPOSER Andrew Mark Sewell, EXECUTIVE PRODUCER Patrick Chapman, Producer Fiona McAlpine, Director   As well as the following Cast members, who will be in attendance.   Adam > Farshid Rokey Yasmine > Jalleh Alizadeh Tariq > Amir E...

 " We all behold with envious eyes Our equal rais'd above our size. Who would not at a crowded show Stand high himself, keep others low? I love my friend as well as you But would not have him stop my view. Then let him have the higher post: I ask but for an inch at most. " - DEAN SWIFT Eyewear Publishing Ltd is today announcing a new prize for the best POETRY BOOK COLLECTION PUBLISHED IN IRELAND OR THE UK IN ANY GIVEN YEAR. This prize is to be judged by one sole INCORRUPTIBLE PERSON EACH YEAR - and, THAT BEING LIKELY HARD TO FIND - the NEXT BEST THING, DR TODD SWIFT, a relation of DEAN SWIFT COLLATERALLY. DR SWIFT AND DEAN SWIFT share SEVERAL THINGS IN COMMON - they both are mad; they both possess genius; they both understand disappointment; they both have round faces; they both love Ireland more than the UK; they both write polemics; and both share the same last name. HOW TO ENTER: POST ONE COPY OF ANY BOOK YOU WISH TO BE CONSIDERED to Dr...

The Poetry Book Society, founded more than 60 years ago by T.S. Eliot , at that time the world's most famous living poet-publisher-critic, has been issuing quarterly bulletins for decades, that promote certain poets and presses; and for a number of years now, they also host a major national prize, for ostensibly the best poetry book of the year - from the ten-strong shortlist is plucked a worthy winner. To question this society is a bit like questioning the Monarchy - positions are hardened pretty much in line with how one feels about, and relates to, the "establishment" - in this case, the Poetry Establishment of the UK. Of course, no dark-paneled X-Files room exists where such people meet - they meet in public, and we see them at gatherings, clustered in tiny groups of four or six - the top editors from Faber, Picador, laughing and nodding, as they speak to their world famous poets, from Ireland, the US and the UK. In Seamus Heaney's infamous phrase, this is the...

Canada's heroic soldier, killed by a fanatic yesterday, was typically Canadian beneath his military garb - a family man, a reservist, a lover of nature, friend to animals, a bouncer, personal trainer - no baby-killer here, folks - just a good loyal Canadian 24-year-old guarding a monument honouring the war dead of WWI. His death is all the more tragic for being symbolic - he was killed for being a symbol, and was not seen for the human he was beneath his uniform. But as a symbol he must therefore also be ... honoured, because he died defending Canada. Cpl. Nathan Cirillo should have all the honours a nation can offer given to him, and his family - out of respect and to defy his killer, who sought to crush him, as man, and symbol. Put this great Canadian son on a stamp, please. Name streets in every town after him. Name libraries after him. The Ottawa airport. Defy the killing with a symbolic spree of honour.

In the last few days radicalised men have been attacking, and killing, Canadian soldiers and citizens on Canadian soil - first in Quebec then in Ontario today - connected to our highest ideals of good government and decency.  Canada, often thought of as dull, is anything but - but it has rarely seen such action on its own ground - though of course the land was wrested from various peoples in complex historical struggles over five or more centuries, including fending off Fenian raiders and Americans. Nor is this the most deadly attack with weapons - there was the massacre of the engineering students, there was the assasination of D'arcy Magee, the killing by RCMP of Metis, brutality during strikes, and various serial killers; there have been dramatic standoffs with native Canadians; there have been tanks rumbling in the streets of Montreal; FLQ letter bombs - but yet, despite this, and Canada's involvement in WWI and WWII, and the Korean War - nothing has quite prepared us f...

Susan Sontag told us all we need to know about camp, and then we got to hear about it again, this time called the post-modern, and since then, with the digital mash-up world of timeless everything under the sun, it's become the "so bad it's good" meme. Well, regardless of Adorno , I love the new Billy Idol album, just out. The thrill of nostalgia and horrified joy I feel at discovering the songs here are expertly tooled trash, no worse than his mastersong 'Flesh for Fantasy' - equally OTT, performative, queerly wild, uber-flamboyant rock-punk nonsense - can only be tempered by recognition that this is immaturity talking, this is a 48-year-old pudgy uni lecturer talking, a privileged white boy-man wanting to escape from the Ebola-ISIS-UKIP shitstorm raging in reality. And, that his voice is broken on so many late nights in rememberhimville, he might be 80, not from the 80s.  So what? He admits he was a druggie and preposterous. There are so many pop-rock ...