The 2014 reading pile

The book pile - the first six months - done now, onto another soon

I set up the challenge to be disciplined about my reading pile and plough through a number of titles I've been putting off, a few that had been bought for me and a couple where I'd been to an author reading and had them signed.

I've finished now. I gave up on Shena Mackay's short stories. Maybe another time, but I wasn't gripped. There are reviews of Kev Sampson, Joe Pearce, Paul Morley, Malcolm Gladwell and Maria Hyland up already.

I reviewed Steve Armstrong's Wigan Pier book on the Discuss podcast number 3. I liked it, it was a fairly searing indictment of two track Britain. Tristram Hunt's Engels biography is beautifully written, that's also reviewed on Discuss podcast number 4.

Stuart Deabill's Personal Situations in London Clubland was a brighter read, I especially liked the Small Faces stories. One of the skills in putting together a book like this is having a good ear for a tale. Fair play to Stuart for crafting a compact and readable tome that stretches a long period.

There's a piece in the pipeline for STAND about the strength of lower division football in England. It was inspired by the Miracle of Castel di Sangro by Joe McGinniss, which tells the story of how a small club rose to Serie B. It seems in Italy they have a Premiership, then the equivalent of League One, then the Conference North and Conference South. 

This and the Kev Sampson one were gifts from my friends Mike Emmerich and Neil Tague. There's something special about enjoying a book that someone gets for you. You start to reflect on the things that bring you together and what you like about your friends.

Did I only read these books? No, I cheated. I sneaked in a few on holiday like the new Tony Parsons crime book, The Murder Bag, which was very good. He's found his muse again, it seems. I read a  Lee Child book I found on the campsite library when I'd run out. He has a talent for creating a page turning, but it isn't literature.

The Parsons book I read on a tablet, something I haven't taken to. There are three things I like about physical books that a tablet or Kindle can never displace. First, finding them in charity shops, church sales, of someone's discarded pile; second, getting bought one by a friend who thinks you'll like it; and thirdly, just the sheer joy of handling it and seeing how far you've got to go and holding it up when someone asks you what it is, especially if it's signed by the author as a few of these were. Call it showing off, maybe. But it's been a while since this book did some namedropping.

We've done another Podcast

In this episode of the Discuss podcast we again 'grasp the nettle', returning to the controversial topic of the recent DISCUSS debate: 'Is religion a force for good?' Joining me and Tom Cheesewright in the Pod this month: Angeliki Stogia, a Labour councillor for Whalley Range, Manchester City FC chaplain and Manchester's 'Minister for Business', the Reverend Pete Horlock. Also covered: Uber, 'the dismal science', whether Philip Blond has lost it, and the usual recommendations for your reading and viewing pleasure.

Oi Ref! Breaking my vow of silence at kids football.

I broke my vow of silence today. I shouted at a referee at a kids football match. It wasn't over an offside call, or a controversial decision, but because I was worried about someone getting hurt.

These are big, strong, proud 15 year old lads. They have now properly embraced the physical side of the game, I have no issue with that. But when emotions are running high and tackles are late, then a quiet word from a good referee can calm things down. This ref didn't spot what was happening, so I said: "You need to get a grip here ref, or someone's going to get hurt." He didn't like it, but it needed saying. 

Thankfully both the managers had words with the lads on both sides who were at risk of losing it. All was well in the end. I totally back the FA Respect campaign and abhor parents who swear and rant at referees. But respect also has to be earned and players have to be protected, sometimes from each other, even if it was a friendly. 

Portillo, Uber and Parklife

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Rik Mayall - my teen idol - how can he be dead when we still have his poems?

 

 

 

This house will become a shrine, and punks and skins and rastas will all gather round and hold their hands in sorrow for their fallen leader. And all the grown-ups will say, "But why are the kids crying?" And the kids will say, "Haven't you heard? Rick is dead! The People's Poet is dead!" And then one particularly sensitive and articulate teenager will say, "Other kids, do you understand nothing? How can Rick be dead when we still have his poems?" And then another kid will say...

If you're of a certain age you can recite whole chunks of the Young Ones off by heart. Certain conversational triggers owe a debt to that incredible cult TV series. Only this week a mate said on Twitter he was outraged enough to want to write to the lead singer of Echo and the Bunnymen.

I am genuinely shocked and upset to hear that Rik Mayall has died at the stupidly young age of 56.

They say you should never meet your heroes, but I've never had any truck with that. When Rik Mayall did a support gig for the Miners' Strike at Lancaster Sugarhouse in late 1984, I reckon, I got to hang out with him and Ben Elton afterwards. As well as being brilliantly funny, he was also hugely generous and painfully shy. He chucked a ton of money in the bucket for the Blyth NUM lads after the gig, he signed autographs and posed for photos - as you can see - but he was totally unlike his character.

Let the tributes begin. We have lost a national treasure here. 

As far back as I can remember ... where we are with the Discuss podcasts

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to present my own radio programme. I dabbled in Australia with my pal Adil Bux, now something of a tycoon in the cosmetics and health industry. Back then music was our life and the high watermark of our show on 6UVS FM was when we interviewed Kevin Sanderson from Inner City, I recall.

I've hung around BBC Radio Manchester and helped them out at the drop of a hat, but they never seem to take the hint that I feel this as a calling. I've enjoyed standing in for Frank McKenna on CityTalk and think I do a good job, but it's Frank's show in his city.

So, in the spirit of Manchester innovation me and Tom Cheesewright have done our own. It's called The Discuss Podcast, we've done three now. We invite guests with something to say, steer the talk around what's going on around us - culture, politics, civic life and we seem to be getting the hang of it.

Long After Tonight - The Last Days Of The Twisted Wheel

Take a peek at this film about the closure of the Twisted Wheel nightclub. Business journalist James Graham has done such a good job of capturing the emotion of the Northern Soul scene. I hope there is some way to curate and protect these elements of our culture in a permanent way.

There are some more memories of the Wheel in our book Northern Monkeys.

A tribute to my favourite football team

This has been a great football season. I have really enjoyed watching my favourite football team. I've enjoyed seeing the team get better and better. The way the players have gelled as the season has progressed and how their late burst at the end of the season resulted in a well earned title win and a promotion.

Yep, watching Marple Athletic Under 15s this season has been terrific. You didn't think I was talking about Blackburn Rovers did you? At any point?

I've fallen in and out of love with junior football, as I have with the professional game. When it's good, there's nothing better. When kids football at its worst is a very dark and ugly world. But that's not for today. Actually one of the things that has impressed me most about my son and his team mates is how they have dealt with the inbuilt adversity that comes from playing in the Stockport Metro League - poor pitches, gobby parents, swaggering opponents, bad referees, games getting cancelled. They didn't play at all through December, January and February. Unbelievable. But on the whole, they've just learnt to get on with it.

The preceding seasons to this one were hard. The team was a few lads on the wrong side of the teenage growth spurt and they lost more than they won as they come off worst as games got more physical.

More than anything though this season has seen all of that come together. It's about them growing up as a group of young men. I say this hesitantly but there aren't any dickheads in the team. They are all such good lads and they work really hard for each other. They're different, they go to at least four different schools, aren't necessarily friends beyond football, but it works. They seem to talk more to each other, apologise when they make a mistake and accept an apology when someone else does. Sure, they get frustrated when a decision goes against them, but they don't let it become the excuse. That isn't the case with a lot of lads of their age.

There are boys playing with my eldest son who have been together now since they were 6 years old. I've seen them change over the years, obviously, but universally they have all changed for the better. Lads have lost weight and got fitter because contributing on a Sunday means so much to them. I've seen a free-scoring forward dropping into midfield and play the best game I've ever seen him play in midfield. I've seen hard, clean, brave tackles that you'd stand and applaud if Vincent Kompany did it. I've seen long throw-ins, corners, free kicks, finger tip saves, last gasp clearances, holding the ball up, triangles, runs from deep, headers away. They can win in style, but they can win ugly too, and just three times, I saw them lose with grace. Pick up and move on.

I'm not ashamed to admit I have a lump in my throat thinking about it right now.

And the managers. Good Lord you meet some grade A pillocks in junior football. But we are blessed to have Jason and Padraig to run this team. Even with bad directions to away grounds, I couldn't wish for better. Here's the other thing about them now, they don't shout and rant and swear. They guide, they manage.

I had to send the managers my choices for players of the season and I was stumped. Genuinely. The only name I couldn't submit was my own son, which meant it was one less to perm from a squad of 14 or so. I so hope they carry on, because they have the potential to achieve more and more together.

I say all of this, of course, because us Dads have foolishly opted to play them in an end of season Dads v Lads match. Two years ago we battered them, but they were young boys. Now they are men. They are about to subject us to brutal retribution. Please be gentle.

Well done lads, what a brilliant season.

Local elections in Marple and Stockport

The local elections are upon us in Stockport, with the possibility of a change at the town hall. As usual the Liberal Democrats are pursuing their voter suppression technique. Tell the supporters of other parties that they are wasting their time and should stay at home, or vote negatively for someone they don't agree with. You'd expect them to hold both Marple wards, but these are strange times.

The three big issues to look out for in the local elections are these:

• The UKIP surge. I see Stockport as prime UKIP territory, loose, white, grumpy and lacking tribal connections to the main three parties. This is partly why the Liberals have done well here. As the election is on the same day as the Euros, they could upset the pattern in a few seats at the expense of every party.
• Dave Goddard. The former leader of the council is trying to make a comeback in Offerton after getting beaten by Labour two years ago.
• Labour support rebuilding and adding to the gains of 2012. The Labour Party have had an injection of energy and are working hard in target wards around Offerton, Bredbury, Woodley and Manor.

Football's Coming Home - happy to be back at Ewood two years on

Two years ago I almost wept at how toxic and depressing it had become at Ewood Park. A team of useless mercenaries led by a man of dubious credentials and no connection with the fans. We lost to Wigan and were relegated. I never wanted to come back until this horror had gone. I blamed the Venky's 100%.  

Today we ended the season on an optimistic note. We may have concluded a game against Wigan in the knowledge we'll be playing in the Championship next season, but the change is seismic.

The owners are the same, but this young team and a decent minded manager have a good chance of winning this league next season. I look around at who else will be in this division and I think that has to be a realistic ambition. A team with the spine of Tom Cairney, Rudi Gestede, Jordan Rhodes, Matt Kilgannon and Grant Hanley need fear no-one. What it lacks, I fear, is mental strength; something that comes from experience, strong leadership and shared purpose. They need, and seem to have, a belief in something greater than the sum of its parts, that they are at Blackburn Rovers to achieve rather than to just drift. There's a tangible connection between the fans and this team too. That helps enormously. 

Handing out the Allez scarves was a nice touch, but honesty and commitment will properly cement that relationship.

And we have to be grateful that all is quiet on the Indian front. They seem to have learned something in the last two years.

I'll be honest and admit that the fans seem to have learned a thing or two as well. Expectation, mainly. I'd be proud and happy to come back with my lads to Ewood next season. It feels like home again.

Neil Finn and Johnny Marr LIVE in Manchester - There Is A Light at The Lowry

I didn't take this video, but I was there. It's Neil Finn of Crowded House and Split Enz topping a majestic and expansive two hour set with one of his mates popping along for an encore. How cool was that?

It would have been a great night without this, but Johnny Marr crowned it. I've already seen Morrissey do "There is a Light..." a few years back, and now Marr. Makes up for never seeing the Smiths, almost.

What does it say about me that my favourite music venue is now a cosy arts theatre. Already booked for Roddy Frame in December.

Paul Morley's The North reviewed, finally

Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy is a complex, tangential and often confusing book. Not only did it subvert a new form of literature before it had even really taken off - the modern novel - it has served to provide a new set a particular challenges for modern interpreters of other literary forms; the modern novel as the basis for a filmic treatment, or for a stage play. Many said it couldn't be done, so that a version of it became Cock and Bull, the Life of Tristram Shandy, adapted by Frank Cottrell Boyce, who then disowned this film within a film, which in turn became the basis for Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon's The Trip, featured Tony Wilson playing himself, confronting Coogan as if he were Partridge. The only thing missing was Tristram Shandy, a gentleman, propelling into the immediate present, a narrative that speaks for the past and the future.

This has everything and nothing to do with Paul Morley's The North. Pause for a moment if you will and think about what I did there. I'd like to think I don't usually write in such confusing riddles. I would imagine if I were writing a book about the North I would do just that. I would talk to people all over the North, gather their recollections, piece together a narrative based on conflicting yet coherent streams. I may, in my limited way, project some of my experiences in a narrow sphere of my life. Maybe, say, my obsessions with male street fashions and teen cults. I could call it, at a push The North. I may even dwell with an unnecessary and unreliable memory on stories about bus routes around Lancaster. In order to make up for the fact I couldn't be arsed to get on a train to Newcastle, Harrogate, Carlisle, Barrow and Preston I'd pepper the text with cut and paste jobs from Wikipedia and a few facts you could otherwise pick up from hours scouring the internet. People may even like stories about Wittgenstein and Anthony Burgess in Manchester, or that karaoke was invented in Goyt Mill in Marple, or the time I met Dave Lee Travis on holiday in Italy. Or that my Dad moved around a lot when he was a lad. But I wouldn't do that. I'd get the name of Liverpool's manager right though. It wasn't Bob Shankly, you numpty. It was Bob Paisley.

I'm not a contemporary book reviewer, I got this for my birthday last July and it's been on my reading pile for ages. If you want to read a generous review, go and look up one by everyone's favourite cultural theorist Terry Eagleton.

In the end, even trying to review this mess of a book is making me irritable and tetchy. It has genuine, genuine gems. But it is not really about the North at all. It's a series of tangents, a product of a distracted mind, or someone able to frustrate and manipulate his publishers despite not delivering his much promised biopic on Anthony Wilson.

It also defiantly and arrogantly doffs a flat cap in the direction of Tristram Shandy with the rambling disconnections and the stubborn refusal to be what the author claimed he wanted the book to be in his original submission, which he even includes as a form of showing off. It takes brass balls to do that, or a brass neck. And we all know what's there where there's brass.

Eurosceptic takedown

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The Stone Roses in Marple

Made of Stone, the Shane Meadows film on the Stone Roses, was on telly last week. It brought back loads of memories about this important and totemic band. I never managed to see them live; I was living abroad the first time round and didn't fancy braving the flying bottles of piss at Heaton Park.

I don't actually think Ian Brown has a good enough voice to carry a big concert - he has the charisma and the Bez-like sense of timing that holds it together.

Anyway, towards the end of the film there's an interlude about the difficult days of recording Second Coming. Archive footage shows them arriving in a studio in Bury and hanging out at a house in Marple (above). Press cutting here and here pick up the story.

I froze the frame above and could recognise that view straight away - in fact, I narrowed it down to a small number of houses on Strines Road. Coincidentally, it's only a few hundred yards from where Tony Wilson grew up.

A little bit of digging has pinpointed the exact spot and that it was loaned to them by a guy called Derek Bull. There is no more to say, no more to pry. And there is no blue plaque. 

Ear Ere Records - the greatest record shop ever

Today is Record Store Day. It's brought back a flood of nostalgia for the greatest record store that ever existed.

Anyone who remembers 'Ear 'Ere In Lancaster knows what I mean. It was a cosier and friendlier version of the record shop in Nick Hornby's Hi-Fidelity. It was also where you could get tickets for gigs at all kinds of places around the North of England.

But from my early forays in there after school, to look meaningfully at prog album covers from the likes of Genesis and King Crimson, to the more serious record buyer I became it was the centre of my world.

I remember going in as a young teen one Saturday and looking through the racks. Some lad approached me and asked me what music I liked. He was probably just being friendly, but it seemed at the time to be the equivalent of the "got the time, mate?" question at a concert or football match. So I bolted and caught up with my Mum on Lancaster market. Back then there was a ferocious mob called the Marsh Mods who had lined up outside punk gigs and battered anyone in sight. Then there was the Morecambe Punks who would use belts and chains to mash anyone who crossed them. We developed myths and scare stories about the violence these gangs would inflict on you. Most of it wildly exaggerated, but it hung over you and was a caution not to stray too far from safety.

But in reality Ear Ere was safe neutral ground. As I became more confident (cocky?) I became a regular in there. You could listen on the headphones by the counter, get recommendations from the staff, especially one character who worked there called Malcolm. The manager was Roger, or to most of us "beardie". A nostalgic Facebook post earlier has elicited the comment from an old mate that these guys had as big a stamp on his musical DNA as John Peel.

You could put your name down to pre-order records and it was the first time I'd use a nickname rather than my surname with adults. I remember a few of us sneaking out at lunch break from school to buy Going Underground by The Jam in 1980. Swaggering back in with possession of the fastest selling single of that era.

I used to be in awe of people who would ask for rare records that they didn't have in stock, but would get the staff working hard looking through books and old stock lists and seeing if they could try and order it for you. They'd also sell fanzines,  a few t-shirts and badges, some they'd even give away, but mostly it was shifting units in the golden age of pop music.

And these plastic bags were such a status symbol around school. You'd cart your school books to lessons in an 'Ear 'Ere bag, the height of cool, but woefully impractical for such a purpose.

I don't buy much music these days, but I fervently stick to the principle that the local record store is a totem of a civilised culturally advanced society. So when I want a new album by a band I still follow slightly slavishly - Elbow, Manics, etc - then Piccadilly Records in Oldham Street, Manchester get my custom. I also love their devotion to new music and always sample something new from their top 100 of the year. It's hit and miss, but those moments of serendipity are what makes life interesting. It's what has always made life interesting - so on this day of all days, I raise a glass to the greatest record shop ever - Ear Ere in Lancaster. May perpetual light shine upon your memory.

Kevin Sampson's Extra Time

All football fans have their own culture, their own stock of stories and their own memories. These drip through Kevin Sampson's Extra Time - A Season in the Life of a Football Fan, which has been lurking in my reading pile and I've just finished. His club is Liverpool.

First up, it's entertaining, honest, funny and really well written. You'd expect that from Kevin Sampson and I'm on record of liking the cut of his jib.

We've been reminded this week how much Hillsborough is etched on the psyche of Liverpool's loyal core of fans.
But reading a book that details the experiences of a group of fans through 1997 and 1998, I was struck by how little Hillsborough seems to feature in their thoughts and pub discussions. It was written 9 years after the tragedy and merits only a few scant paragraphs during the trip to watch the Reds at Sheffield Wednesday, where home supporters are wearing novelty hats produced by The Sun newspaper. On that observation the anger bursts through. The sense of injustice grows, then Jack Straw says there are no further grounds for an enquiry. But then no more. It simmers, one imagines, rather than boils over. I guess grief does that.

That we're only gripping the importance of justice now, 16 years later, is staggering.

Manchester's next generation of leaders

We had a Downtown Leaders Lunch today. It’s part of a series of lunches where we ask leaders from the city to speak - that’s why there’s no apostrophe, my grammar pedant friends.
The speaker was billed as Sir Howard Bernstein, the chief executive of the city council, but he was unwell. He sent Sara Tomkins instead. Once I’d got over the disappointment and concern over Howard, I must admit I was really quite pleased. Not that Howard was ill - but that we can expose another civic leader to the very people who are drawn to the magnetism of Howard.
I wish I had a pound for every time I get told that Manchester would be lost without Sir Howard and Sir Richard Leese, the council leader. The theory goes that there is a talent vacuum beyond the two knights, and that their eventual retirement will expose a chasm. In a sense they are a remarkable double act, but I have hopefully seen enough to recognise that there’s something else going on.
It’s actually one of the mightiest forces of their leadership that they lead from the front. But also that they lead and inspire the small army of policy creators, delivery teams and political campaigners.
Sara is one of those. As the assistant chief executive for communications, customer and IT, her brief covers some crucial aspects of the council’s work. She spoke about the leadership of the local authority today - how a municipal culture of hard pragmatic politics (and Politics) encourages younger executives and officers to take risks and be innovative.
She also didn’t shy away from issuing a few challenges - property developers and planners need to think much, much more about the kind of digital infrastructure their buildings need. She also faced up to some tough questions over broadband vouchers, disruption caused by the Second City Crossing and traffic congestion.
I think everyone at the Grill on New York Street this lunchtime will have enjoyed what she had to say - they will have also left a little more confident that there are a generation of articulate younger leaders around with the right levels of intelligence and pragmatism to lead the city in the future.

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Blue tape is strangling small business

This is an Audioboo of a blog I did on "blue tape" the rules, restrictions and bureaucracy that businesses put on other businesses.

listen to ‘Blue tape is strangling small business’ on Audioboo

Northern Rail franchise extended – why this may be good news, but probably won’t be

Happy commuters, pic stolen from Northern Rail's website

I am no fan of the shoddy service offered to commuters in the North of England by Northern Rail. The joint venture between Serco and Abellio has brought nothing to the experience or helped economic development in the region. But change is going to come – the clock is now ticking down towards the next franchise period, just as this one has been extended for a couple more years. Hopefully the terms of the next deal will look very different indeed – a longer period and the benefits of the Northern Hub investment.

The Rail North plan envisages a larger franchise integrated with the local transport authorities of Greater Manchester and  beyond – that should have the benefits of integrated ticketing, electrification, better rolling stock and more services – in short, a service fit for purpose. 

It is surprising how little political traction this has. It remains a bold move - an important devolutionary step. Longer term it could also lead to franchises being run by a consortium of local transport authorities. 

I do find it laughable that the Rail Minister Stephen Hammond has set Northern Rail short term targets for improved customer satisfaction. The first thing the management should do is measure peak time punctuality separately from the empty rattlers ambling along on time during the afternoon. Then they should massively rethink the brutal approach to ticket checking at most stations by their G4S bouncers – it is humiliating, unfriendly and intimidating.  But they will argue it catches fare dodgers effectively. I believe it is counter-productive.

I also worry when I read the managing director of Northern Rail, Alex Hynes, saying efficiency and service are his priorities and those dreaded words – “more with less”.

The Department for Transport must also insist there is no further running down of trains to the South as First TranspennineExpress have had to give trains to Chiltern. I have noticed more and more trains are made up of just two carriages in the evenings. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but it has to stop.