The Rise and Fall of Musical Styles

I love these presentations by Data is Beautiful, they really show the staggering significance of things we feel we already know. Country and then Jazz soared in the teens and twenties; fast forward to 1955 and the arrival of rock 'n' roll swept all else aside in a matter of months. And how quickly styles are dropped like hot bricks, no gradual decline for the likes of ragtime, which fell like a stone in the mid-forties.

It's worth mentioning that whatever is currently in vogue is considered pop, hence no catch-all category for that. I am somewhat surprised by the tenacity of Techno but this is an American study, hence the mumbling/swearing/angry chart topper of the past decade.

People like what they like and, as in all life, a favoured minority style cannot be artificially boosted.

Outdoor Activities

Weekend movies and cycling

‘Blinded by the Light’, based on real events, is at heart a coming of age story. Javed, a Pakistani teenager, lives with his controlling father and obedient mother in Luton, North London. We meet him in 1987 as a high-schooler attempting to stay afloat on the high seas of family expectations, the lure of western music, vicious racism and girls.

His passion for writing poetry and a chance introduction to the music and lyrics of The Boss lead to an awakening of the soul and inevitable conflict with his father’s rigid ideology. Jared has formed a close relationship with an English girl and is torn between his cultural roots and the freedom and excitement of the west. Boiling point is reached when Jared wins a writing competition and insists on travelling to New Jersey (Springsteen’s birth place) to pick up his award and his father tells him not to come back.

Happy endings abound when the two reconcile after Jared gives a heartfelt speech at a school event revealing that he has ample space for both his new lifestyle and his South Asian roots. The film shows the beauty of music and love against a backdrop of ugly racism, demonstrating how an immigrant boy can learn to embrace a new culture yet remain loyal to his origins.

‘The Legend of Tarzan’; not our typical film fare but, intrigued by the trailer, we gave this a go and soon found ourselves immersed deep in the African Congo admiring the lush jungle and its wholly credible CGI beasts. The old Edgar Rice Burrows creation is retold with a nice mix of reverent fidelity and exciting action scenes. To help those unfamiliar with the tale, Tarzan’s upbringing by apes and subsequent return to a life of British gentry is shown in neat flashbacks.

In short, the thrust of the plot is Tarzan freeing Congolese men from the grip of slavery under Belgian King Leopold; an apt theme for the times we live in. Naturally our man gets separated from his feisty wife Jane but manages not only to unchain the slaves but to rescue his mate from the jaws of death.

A British emissary sent to the Congo as Tarzan’s sidekick provides some fun with self-effacing humour and Jane is played superbly by Margot Robbie. If there’s a weak point it’s perhaps the great man himself. While he looks the part, all chiselled abs and flowing locks, his demeanour is low key. Nonetheless he impresses with much effortless swinging through tall trees and wonderful relationships with the jungle animals.

           

Cycling has become our latest weekend activity. We ride on quiet, Sunday morning roads to reach the Confederation Trail where we can start loops around and through Charlottetown, steadily increasing our range. This time we reached the centre of town where the Trail ends. Nearby is the former Railway Station building, now home to the Workers’ Compensation Board of Prince Edward Island, while at Peakes Quay the former engine sheds now house a series of diners and cafes.

We spun through a deserted downtown and out to Victoria Park where a bike lane takes you past the harbour and on to sleepy residential roads. Soon we were back on main roads for a fast downhill coast on North River Road to Ellen’s Creek then a sharp uphill effort and we were home, 26kms under our belts.

Visitors to my balcony and beyond

Signs of the times

A pictorial record of 2020 activities

Toiletries and Shenanigans

Susan’s bathroom routine is complex and lengthy. It involves a range of ablutions for face and body followed by a generous application of ointments and sundry unguents and balms before feeling ready to embrace the new day with confidence and a face cutely glistening with youth and vitality. My investigations have revealed where she stores her supplies and, bearing in mind she is a creature of habit and can be relied upon not to notice anything out of the ordinary - even right before her eyes – I began to hatch a rascal-ish plan...

Her final primping stage is to daub liberal globs of Nivea cream on her cheeks (the upper ones, mostly) to leave them as soft and smooth as a baby’s for everyone to admire. Susan recognises the Nivea by approximate size and shape and will reach for the tube without close inspection.

I spent a few productive minutes designing and printing a small circular label the same size and colour as the Nivea brand and composed an alternative descriptive phrase for it. After a few scissor snips and a dab of glue-stick I slid the new label into place, positioned the tube back on its shelf and stood back to admire my ingenuity! Would Susan notice? Of course not!

I perked up and listened with interest when she next visited the bathroom for a cleansing session but, as anticipated, not a chortle, not a gasp, no reaction at all! She simply came trotting back into the bedroom, cheeks aglow, and stood at the window squinting into her eyebrow mirror. When she returned to the bathroom I followed behind and tentatively enquired if she had plenty of moisturiser left.

“This is it, right?” I asked, holding up the Nivea.

“Yep, I love that stuff,” Susan smiled.

“Really, you use this on your face?” I said, faking an expression of consternation.

She leaned in and looked closer. “What the f*** is that? Have I been rubbing that on my face all this time?” Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape. “Hiney Vaginey Balm? She shouted incredulously.

I was already dashing for safety when I heard her little feet slapping fast on the floor, chasing me, bent on retribution, cheeks gleaming with Jojoba butter!