Showing posts with label St Skeletor's Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St Skeletor's Day. Show all posts

Monday, 15 February 2010

How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love Six Music



Raindrops on roses? Whiskers on kittens? No, sorry, neither of these feature on a list of my favourite things - not that I'd want to see any unwhiskered kittens- but BBC 6Music is on there however, and I've been worried about it.

What's to like about 6Music? Obviously Adam and Joe, though they're currently on hiatus, getting on with their careers, damn them- but the holiday cover is Collins and Herring, so that's okay. Then there's Lauren Laverne's weekday show; which is just cracking, and dry wit on a Sunday courtesy of Jarvis Cocker. Jarvis Cocker! Soon Cerys Matthews will be back too, and of course there's the ever reliable stints from both Steve Lamaqc at drive time, and Stuart Marconi's 'Freak Zone'.

All in all (in case you hadn't worked it out) there's plenty of good music, both new and old, without too much filler or any irritation - at least not now George Lamb's been relegated. 6Music is tackling remit no other mainstream station wants to fulfill: y'know, being interesting, diverse and...  consistently listenable. I just wish it still had Phil Jupitus on breakfasts.

So what's up? Well the BBC as a whole is facing mounting pressure- resources are tight, the Daily Mail is still stalking about in a rabid fashion ready to froth and scream about any mishap, and of course there's general concerns that the Tories will do something atrocious to the licence fee when they get in- probably bathe in it like sour faced, pasty Scrooge McDucks.

6Music's faced a bit of criticism in its own right too: whilst some has been justified (bloody George Lamb) other moans and groans have been petty and unfair. Radio Centre (independent radio's mouthpiece) had a pop back last August, complaining about the station's cost, how dare the fee paying alternative music lovers want/need their own service!

These past few months I've been afraid that 6Music - ray of sunshine though that it might be to me - would be pilloried by the upcoming service review. Or  worse, that maybe the BBC Trust wouldn't feel it was worth the hassle to its tiny listenership (though the listening figures have risen by 11.% this quarter). Worst of all I've been dreading the day that I'd be tearfully saying goodbye to all the live sessions, the interesting presenters and 6Music's distinctiveness.

Joy of joys, all seems to be healthy: the recent trust report says 6Music is doing just fine- apart from managing to successfully  retain its anonymity. Yes it does cost a lot, and some of those costs can be trimmed, and maybe there are improvements to be made in some areas (like documentaries), but the Trust also recognises that  it offers higher quality services  than most other independent competitors -i.e. the live shows, and that it needs to continue to ensure that its DJs are be credible guides to alternative tunes.
So, today, on St Skeletor's Day, I'm raising a glass to 6Music: a wonky little digital station, that really is doing quite a fantastic job.

Go on, give it a listen.

Thursday, 12 February 2009

St Skeletor's Day

Back in 1998 when nervous breakdowns, hair dye, jazz, bloody men and chip stinking seaside towns were still to come in my life, Richard Herring came up with labling February 15th St Skeletor's Day: the anti-Valentine's, headed by a figure who epitomises evilness and the destruction of love (it's about 3 minutes into the youtube video).
Good.
It's not that I'm bitter, it's not that I dislike couples, especially happy ones, or happiness in general, or in fact any and all aspects of life that isn't fermented in barrels (well, maybe it is), but I do hate Valentine's Day. Waste of time, money and just an excuse to have stupid stuffed toys, heart shaped (if you're lucky) balloons, unattractive black and red underwear, not to mention fluffy handcuffs, all bandied from every shop window. Even charity shops, which apparently have no shame these days.... despite being run by little old ladies in floral dresses and knee socks. Very dark.
All across the world people live in misery and poverty; there's starvation, war, misery (more misery), prejudice, hatred and greed, and what do we do? Couples give themselves a nice pat on the back and feel fuzzy smug self congratulation. Most of the time this Carpenter song-like bliss is less about a deep and mutual attraction and more a thankful realisation that there is someone else who can share the responsibility of taking out the bins, chopping onions or unblocking the shower. Valentine's is after all the only day that you have to say thanks for being put up with. It's so caring, thoughtful and charming.
That doesn't cut it for St Skeletor; he doesn't have hair so his shower doesn't get blocked, he has many slaves (who he beats) so he doesn't need to make someone love him for the bins to go away. Being part skeleton he probably doesn't eat much, and all his calcium needs are met by a pestilential milkman. He even smashed the stereo with that ram headed staff of his when "It Had to Be You" came on, and regularly burns DVDs of 'When Harry Met Sally' as a recreational pastime. As Rich reminds us; Skeletor is so evil the only love interest in his life was a woman as diabolical as himself, hence her name; 'Evil Lynn' - and to be fair he didn't seem very keen on her.

So don't make St Skeletor Cards, if you do put some effort into making them equisit and then burn them in front of the potential recipient. Put on your ratty grey underwear safe in the knowledge that no-one is going to see it anyway. If you must buy chocolate hearts do so only to watch them melt into a lake of calorie riddled gloop that'll only make you feel guilty after you eat it. Oh, and wear capes with hoods so you can glare menacingly at happy couples as they stroll hand in hand clogging up pavements. It needs to be a cape though, or else your powerful social statement will be lost amongst the typical hoodie delinquency.

As for me, well, I'm going to the cinema to watch Casablanca on Valentine's Day; but I won't enjoy it, and at the end I'll be muttering loudly that Rick was better off without that heartless bitch.