Saturday 26th July 2025
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Review: British Sea Power

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Recorded on the edge of the Sussex downs, amongst the ‘interstellar clouds’ sung of on ‘Luna’ but far from the apocalyptic, hedonistic Valhalla Dancehall of the title, this is British Sea Power’s fifth album, marking almost a decade together. In the past ten years, BSP have built up a steady reputation as one of Britain’s most oddball, but also most-loved indie bands. The former has been established by their penchant for performing in unexpected corners of the British Isles and for their oft-eccentric lyrical subject matter. The latter is proved by consistent critical acclaim, including a Mercury Prize nomination for their 2008 release, Do You Like Rock Music?

Valhalla Dancehall opens with rather a surprise: ‘Who’s in Control?’ is a rallying battle cry, complete with shout-along chorus and a clearly terrestrial focus, marking a change from the band’s usual lyrical star-gazing. The song’s wish – that ‘protesting was sexy on a Saturday night’ – is politically on-topic, but in the context of the more graceful, more traditional BSP of the tracks that follow, the album’s opener feels rather out of place, as if it has been momentarily hi-jacked by an NME tipped lad-band.

The leading single, ‘Living is so Easy’, is another surprise, but a definite gem of one, wrapped in a lush, twinkling instrumental arrangement, reminiscent of Krautrock heroes Neu! Instead, they stick to their social commentary, bemoaning the excess of a party lifestyle, and sharply criticizing relentless consumerism as they continue to observe the girls ‘accessorised up to the hilt’ and incidents of ‘VPL in the SUV’.

In the end, Valhalla Dancehall is no real departure from the British Sea Power of old. With so many bands losing their charm in the desperate search for a drastic ‘new direction’, it is refreshing to see a band confident enough in their established sound to continue (largely) on their natural course of progression. This is an album of epic, graceful beauty, and for anyone for whom this is not enough, the final words of eleven-minute opus ‘Once More Now’ should enlighten as to how far this concerns these quiet indie treasures: ‘fuck ’em’ has never sounded so beautiful.

No Such Thing As Cool?

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We all know the routine by now. When December rolls in, so do the endless hoards of ‘albums of year’ lists, quickly followed by an explosion of enraged forum posts along the lines of: ‘crikey, [some music publication]’s list doesn’t precisely correlate with my opinions’. And 2010 was no different. But whilst this annual charade deserves to be mostly ignored, last year’s lists did share one interesting feature. It was not uncommon to see the maximalist hip hop of Kanye West next to Arcade Fire’s orchestral indie, or the polite dream-pop of Beach House alongside Cosmogramma, Flying Lotus’ everything-to-eleven post-J Dilla ‘space-opera’. The placing of so many seemingly incompatible musical styles together in a single list, as we frequently saw last year, is symptomatic of the breakdown of genre divides that is occurring in today’s music scenes.

But this is by no means a new phenomenon; Brian Eno’s article of just over a year ago entitled ‘The Death of Uncool’ was a discussion on this very same subject. In fact, the process of musical desegregation has been in action ever since the internet came into wide use. The variety of free music journalism online meant that the musical exposure experienced by a typical listener was no longer governed by their chosen monthly publication and, in effect, a small team of editors. More importantly, though, the tastes of an individual became less influenced by the opinions of their immediate groups of friends. Via blogs and forums, music fans found new ways to communicate with each other, significantly reducing the impact of ‘coolness’ and local trends on the development of musical tastes.

These factors led to a huge coming together of music fans across the globe. And with the advent of Napster at the turn of the century, listeners suddenly had access to the libraries of countless others worldwide. The supply of free music made available by P2P technology afforded listeners the chance to take risks, sampling a wide variety of styles and genres at the click of a button. Rather than setting an allegiance to a specific genre, people began to identify as ‘music fans’, exploring all kinds of sounds that they would previously have ignored.

And now, as a result of this ‘death of uncool’, the wealth of disparate musical influences that has been embraced by music scenes around the world is giving rise to a vast tapestry of highly specialised sub-genres, or ‘micro-genres’. Take the loose genre of ‘indie’, for example; influences as eclectic as 80s new wave, African traditional, 90s shoegaze and 60s pop can be heard within the labyrinth of sub-genres that has sprung forth from this common starting point. Whilst most, myself included, will be of the opinion that it is largely academic to obsess over specific categorisations of music, the rapid division and subdivision of genres (whether you choose to label them or not) has nonetheless become a permanent feature of today’s music scenes.

Obviously, this environment in which nothing is out of bounds, in which uniqueness is actively encouraged, is an extremely fertile one for musicians. But this utopian musical society has not come without its costs to the average listener. The way in which music has begun splitting off into niches has introduced new divides between listeners, and music is becoming increasingly difficult to enjoy socially.
Who, outside the few close followers of ‘hypnagogic pop’ (or ‘post-noise’ or whichever term is being used these days), will have ever heard of Oneohtrix Point Never? Yet his album of last year, Returnal, was a considerable landmark in that fledgling genre’s development.

With this ever fragmenting expanse of sub-genres, the audience for each style of music is constantly narrowing. And one could argue that Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is the first record since Kid A that has really brought music communities together in the same way that Radiohead’s album did ten years ago.
So whilst the ‘death of uncool’ began as a brilliant coming together of previously disconnected music scenes, we are now seeing increasingly narrow sub-genres spinning off on different tangents. And the resulting musical landscape is, in many ways, even more difficult to navigate than before.

Romantic Moderns

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Alexandra Harris has just had the busiest four months of her life. Last September she launched her book Romantic Moderns, a reinterpretation of English culture in the 1930s and ’40s, featuring, amongst others, Virginia Woolf, John Piper, Cecil Beaton and John Betjeman. The book centres on their turn from a totalising modernism to embrace a sense of Englishness that had roots in romanticism: hence, ‘romantic moderns’.

Far from the brutal strangeness we associate with modern art, Harris suggests that a warmer, less confrontational mode was the main current of British culture in the last century, celebrating the familiar and the traditional. Through this sense of a quintessential Englishness – the parish church, the seaside pier – artists and writers offered the public a way into their work. The same is true for Harris’ own book: her inclusive and broad-ranging approach allows Romantic Moderns to reach well beyond an academic audience. In December, it won the Guardian First Book Award.

‘Most academics want to make everything difficult,’ she tells me, ‘but people like T.S. Eliot were writing for a general audience. They wanted to be popular.’ When Harris started her thesis on Woolf, she thought maybe ten people would read it. But the project began to absorb more and more. Books she read for pleasure, a mosaic she saw at the British Museum, all made their way into what became Romantic Moderns. ‘I had the extraordinary realisation that I was writing a thesis I really wanted to be writing!’

One reason for its popularity, she speculates, is that ‘people like being given permission to enjoy art that’s a little more quiet and traditional.’ What Romantic Moderns offers is a way to link up some familiar treasures of an older English culture that has been neglected and disdained by most contemporary artists and critics, whom Harris worries are too detached from popular taste. For her, art criticism should give people ‘the confidence and inspiration to link up things in their own lives.’

That approach requires embracing individuality and subjectivity, something Harris is keen to do. There is an ‘awkwardness about being personal’ in academia but really, she says, ‘all our writing is autobiographical.’ Romantic Moderns is unashamedly personal,’ it is a world created out of links between things, from literature and painting to cookery and gardening. As an interpretation, it is a work of imagination just as much as any novel.

Romantic Moderns seems like a once-in-a-lifetime work, the product of a set of personal affinities and time to think about how they connect. But she assures me, ‘I have plenty of interests left!’ And her next book (barring an introduction to Virginia Woolf that she’s just finished) sounds as idiosyncratic as her last. With a scope stretching from medieval to modern, it’s a welcome opportunity, she tells me, to go back and do her undergraduate English degree again, ‘and read The Faerie Queene properly this time!’ The subject: the weather. What could be more English than that?

Interview: Helen Statham

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The young director of the O3 Gallery sits serenely opposite me, proffering jelly beans as she explains how her goals have changed since art school. ‘I was sure that I would do installations and work on commissions, and that I would absolutely be able to earn enough money doing that – and there was no other option. But of course, it’s not really like that.’ So with the help of work experience in several galleries – including an Oxford one whle doing an MA at Brookes – Statham started work in the Ashmolean’s picture room. In July last year she moved to her current domain, tucked away in behind Malmaison hotel in the Oxford Castle complex.

She is very honest about the difficulties smaller galleries like the O3 face when it comes to competing with Oxford’s art establishment – ‘you have to fight a bit harder for the poster space’. I ask if she thinks most students only visit the Ashmolean or Modern Art Oxford when they want to see art during term. ‘You have to dig a little bit deeper to find places like the O3, and people don’t always do that,’ she admits.

Yet Statham seems happy with the presence of larger venues in Oxford. ‘I think we are very much friends with them, and it’s easy for us to be that way because we’re different in what we provide. The Ashmolean is more of a museum in that the most recent stuff they’ve got is modern [early 20th century] art, and although MAO shows contemporary stuff it’s a still a museum in the way it functions.’ The difference with the O3 and galleries like it is that ‘we are showcasing early- to mid-career artists who are still making affordable work. It’s more alive, it’s art that you can make part of your life in a way that with the Ashmolean and MAO you can’t.’

‘I hope that we’re quite an approachable gallery in that sense,’ she continues. ‘I mean, we have a lot of interpretive information available for people, so if they want to come in and read up on the work and understand more of what it’s drawing upon, they can, but if people just want to come and look at something that’s really visually exquisite, then that is also there for them.’ At Metamorphosis, the last O3 show I went to, there were free handouts detailing some of the Ovidian stories to which the art referred.

So I am surprised when she describes the O3’s attitude towards its viewers as one of ‘aesthetic responsibility’. ‘While we are very much interested in ideas, it’s really important how the work impacts visually onto people. So it might have really interesting ideas behind it, but the work is also a cracking piece of art in its own right on an aesthetic level.’ It’s refreshing to hear her foreground the power of art’s visual aspect, when so many exhibition guides and reviews will insist on pointing out the perceived conceptual marvels underpinning painting X or sculpture Y. Again, the exhibitions bear out this commitment to the visual: the black and white prints of trees in Metamorphosis were beautiful in their tonal variations and the delicacy of their mark making, regardless of whether we knew that each tree was once a nymph called Daphne.

As well as managing one of Oxford’s up and coming art venues, Statham has for several years been a presenter on BBC Radio Oxford’s arts show The Hub. She got the job after meeting figures from the BBC while she worked at the Botanic Gardens during her MA. ‘I said to my boss there, ‘I’m doing an art degree, really into arts, I want to get as much experience as possible – let me know if there’s anything coming up that I can help with. And it happened that that particular year they were having a big light and sound art installation festival, which was totally up my street because my MA was in interdisciplinary arts. So that was really exciting, and they needed someone who worked in the gallery to do a short documentary… So I had to make six three-minute films all about the preparations for this festival. And actually it’s funny because in doing that, I got to know the creative directors of the project, and they said, ‘Oh gosh, so your work’s just like what’s happening here!’ and I said, ‘Yeah it is, I’m really excited about it,’ and they said ‘Oh, why don’t you put some art work into the festival?’ So I actually ended up doing an installation which ended up being the sort of centrepiece of the garden – which is just luck. It’s just total luck.’

Her career so far shows, though, that it’s very possible to make your own luck. ‘Yeah, totally, big tip: go for any opportunity that you’re given, and just try and make the most of it. Something good’ll come out.’ It’s clear that many more good things are set to come from the O3. Staham has already managed five shows as its director, as well as introducing student ambassadors and linking the gallery with a studio in Cornwall at which Oxford artists can apply for residencies. It’s easy to forget that she’s only been working there for six months – as I do, when I finish by asking what she plans to do next. ‘Oh, well I’ve still got years in me here, I think. I’d love in the future to go back to doing some big installation projects… but that’s a few years off yet and I can’t really think about that just now.’

The O3 is open Mon-Fri 12-5pm, and 11am-4pm on weekends. Admission free.

Last chance to see – Ben Johnson at the National Gallery

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With an attenuated brush in his right hand, the back of Ben Johnson’s torso greets the crowd as he methodically applies miniscule amounts of acrylic paint to the canvas. We’re cordoned off from the unfinished painting, unable to approach or entirely see what lies beneath. Though “panorama” derives from the Greek “all sight”, Johnson quietly removes us from his landscape, as if beckoning us towards a window view while blocking out part of the glass himself. The ideal prospect is compromised, reminding us of the artifice inherent in landscape painting – as meticulously accurate as the artwork is, it serves to distance us from the actual scene, displacing our impressions of a place with those mediated through the artist.

Commissioned by the National Gallery to accompany their excellent Canaletto exhibition, Johnson’s Looking Back to Richmond House looks across London from the roof the gallery itself. Vast, intricately detailed and painstakingly true to life, the painting on display is the result of a lengthy, many-staged studio process. By completing it in front of his public, Johnson claims to emphasize the work behind the artwork, to affirm the ties between the artist and the draughtsman. Just as stonemasons and bricklayers produced London’s architecture, visual art emerges through labour and craft. To create the masterpieces displayed elsewhere in the gallery, the Old Masters had to get their hands dirty.

With this supposed commitment to craft, then, it’s a wonder that Johnson’s almost-finished product resembles something that’s been shrink-wrapped. In Canaletto’s The Stonemason’s Yard, whose geometry supposedly fits Johnson’s work almost perfectly, we see lowly huts and unwashed walls; even the church tower in the distance is a worn brown against the graying sky. In the foreground, masons chip at the rocks, enacting the process that will turn the rubble of the yard into a piece of art. Johnson’s London, by contrast, has been well glossed and manicured. All the blemishes – including people – have gone, creating a lifeless sterility. There’s a definite technical skill on display – the level of detail is staggering, and Johnson is a talented painter of light – but the overall effect is photorealism without the realism, a city that never wakes.

Two of Johnson’s previous cityscapes, of Zurich (2003) and Liverpool (2008), round off the exhibition. Compared to the London vista’s tight weave of neo-classical forms, these works feel almost cartographical, guides to a diverse, often labyrinthine domain. The Liverpool Cityscape was completed under the same public scrutiny as the present plan, and its success there seems routed in its function as a civil monument. The same smoothness that makes Johnson’s London sterile allows Liverpool to transcend time, to become a harmonious unity rather than an ever-evolving sprawl. And that, perhaps, is the key to Johnson’s work – rather than glorifying the process behind creation, his work denies it, airbrushing cities into gleaming tombs.

Ben Johnson: Modern Perspectives is at Room 1 of the National Gallery, admission free, until January 23rd. Don’t miss it!

Through the medium of belief

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Bright lights frame the stage where Derek Acorah is about to start his séance. Roving microphones are being checked. Cameras are being positioned to capture every word, every facial movement, every potential tear, nod, shake of the head. Claims that his ‘gift’ is simply showmanship and dramatic seem apt in light of the performance that’s being set up for his appearance at the Oxford Union. An hour and a half later, to say the séance was disappointing was an understatement.

Acorah, however, seems satisfied. ‘There was honesty out there. There were intelligent minds there, and considering there were a lot less people than the numbers I’m doing it to in theatres, even in the small nucleus I know there were people who if I’d been lucky enough to connect with they would have been so forthcoming. I was expecting sceptics. A sceptical mind and a cynical mind are healthy in my opinion, believe it or not, because it shows we’re using that brain matter that the old boss has given us. And I do love healthy debate; I question spirits, I tested spirits for years and years before I symbolically put my hands up and said I trust and believe. I actually expected a little bit more sitting on the fence but leaning sceptically.’

Derek Acorah turned to mediumship after an injury ended his career with Liverpool FC. A rather disconcerting career move, he concedes, but he knew it was right. ‘My gran, who was a working medium, used to write these diaries and in one she was so specific about the injury that would take me out of football that I knew it must be true. And she did a little drawing of a TV and wrote the letters GRANAD, and the first TV station I worked on was Granada.’

And with that first appearance Acorah began a television career that’s spanned over 20 years. His programmes Most Haunted, Derek Acorah’s Ghost Town and Derek Acorah have helped fuel the nation’s hunger for the supernatural. However, his claim to be one of the most respected television psychics was tainted in 2005 when there were accusations of fraud after claims he had pretended to be possessed by the fictional characters Kreed Kafer (an anagram of Derek Faker) and Rik Eedles (Derek Lies), who he had been fed misinformation about. Acorah’s voice rises slightly, but he flashes a charming smile, ‘I’ve had to defend myself against the media since I finished with that programme. It was sabotage, complete sabotage. A year before I’d asked for a meeting with the executives at LIVING TV and I asked to leave Most Haunted, although they couldn’t understand. You know, it’s an award-winning programme, it’s getting so many viewers, it’s an embarrassment to the bigger channels because of viewing figures, why would you want to leave? But I wanted to do other things, however, I agreed to one more series to give them time to develop another show for me. Unfortunately I let certain people know about this and they felt quite threatened that my new show would be competition to them. Then LIVING TV, Yvette Fielding and Karl Beattie put this parapsychologist, Ciarán O’Keeffe, up to making a statement, and then they threatened me with court action. So I said, ‘sue me, I’ll prove I’m telling the truth’. It wasn’t Derek who backed off, their solicitors did. I’d won, but the truth never came out’.

Acorah’s work, communicating with spirits, is led by his spirit guide, Sam. Acorah believes that over 2000 years ago in a past life he was an Ethiopian child whose family were murdered when his village was invaded. He escaped and was found by Masumi, a seer who used to visit their village, and the two travelled until the little boy was killed while trying to steal bread to eat. ‘I used to hate going to bed because I would go into this dream and suddenly I’m re-enacting this situation where there are families in this area of the same colour and I had a sense of belonging in this family and I got to know Sam (in those days, Masumi). After this long period of flash backs of my previous life, it was only then that I realised this must have been me. But then you have to keep on enquiring and pushing until you know the knowledge you have is neither illusion nor, in some people’s thoughts, schizophrenia. You have to learn to put aside those fears, which do come to you when you’re hearing a voice outside those which you normally know.’

Thankfully, it’s Acorah that brings up the issue of mental illness that dogs the majority of people who claim they hear voices. ‘But I know it’s true. This information is coming from people that I trust; I knew them both in two different lifetimes and just because they’re across the verge it doesn’t mean to stop trusting them. I asked them for ideas and impressions of the other side, and I’ve based my beliefs off that. I don’t believe in God in the traditional Christian sense. I believe we have a creating force; it’s all powerful, all seeing, technically humanitarian, which has the ability to understand what our needs are, and what our needs are when we leave here. That’s all I know. There’s a lot I don’t know, an awful lot. I’ll only gain that knowledge when I leave the universe the next time. I live my life in the knowledge that this is real. I see the cruelties and the bad things that happen in the world as much as anyone else, but because I have this belief, well it’s not even a faith, it’s gone beyond that, it’s got to a truth, that if I continue to walk the truth then I know I’m not disrespective. I only want to help.’

Yet this ‘help’ is often seen as manipulating the vulnerable or playing on the emotions of the grieving to goad them into reactions solely to make good television, and indeed he’s turned his gift into a very lucrative career. Does he find it justifiable to use his abilities for entertainment? ‘I don’t believe its manipulating the ‘vulnerable and the needy’ and all those words. I don’t believe in the vulnerability that the media portrays. Over the years, I’ve done readings for the highest level of intellect: doctors, specialists, dentists, government figures, one big member of the clergy who swore me to secrecy. He wanted answers and he used the information he’d got from his father in the spirit world and it’s helped over 200, 000 people. I’m utilising my gift to help people who before had been blind and lost. Yes, you can go on my website and mediums are available, but they’re not saying, ‘Phone me! Do this, pay that!”

On his website, at the bottom of an extensive list of tour dates, stands a short disclaimer, ‘Due to recent EU legislation it is now necessary to state the following: Theatre demonstrations are to be deemed for entertainment purposes only’. This disclaimer also stands (discreetly) at the bottom of all the banners put up in the theatres Acorah performs at. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t like his gift dismissed as ‘entertainment’. ‘It’s so silly. We’ve got to put up these notices, but, you know, it’s not Derek Acorah’s sentiment, we’re made to by Ofcom, by the EU. By law it has to be displayed. A few years ago, Ofcom said it’s ok for mediumship to be demonstrated on niche programmes and non-terrestrial channels. They said that people who watched niche programming rather than the 5 main stations were more intelligent. Imagine if I said, ‘did you know all you people who watch terrestrial TV, you’re thick!’ I mean I have free will; if I don’t want to watch a programme, I’ve the intelligence to change over.’ It’s a shame then that he didn’t foresee the opposition that his live Michael Jackson séance would provoke. Winning the accolade the ‘single worst hour of television produced in 2009’, it was branded distasteful, sick and exploitative by members of the public and press alike. ‘Can you honestly imagine anything – anything – more anus-invertingly unpalatable than this?’ Derren Brown succinctly summed up. Nevertheless Acorah maintains that it ‘did help people from across the world. I mean, I only had 26 minutes. You normally need 2 or 3 hours to connect with a spirit.’

Amidst the hubbub of thanks and apologies as Derek is rushed off to speak to a waiting tabloid reporter he flashes another charming smile at the rabble of students clamouring to hear a somewhat evasive answer to their question. I’m about to ask why someone decides on a career where they must constantly and publicly defend their beliefs, but Derek seems lost in the attention.

Time to face the Philomusica

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Henry Wood Hall is a deconsecrated church standing stately in the centre of Trinity Church Square, in Southwark. Its namesake, Henry J. Wood, was enormously influential in the early days of British orchestral performance, conducting the Proms for nearly half a century before his death in 1944. The Hall itself was converted to a rehearsal and recording venue in 1975, and is used regularly by all the Major London Orchestras, including the London Philharmonic, London Symphony, Royal Philharmonic, Academy of St Martin in the Fields, and so on.

It is also the principal rehearsal space for the Oxford Philomusica, itself comprised of musicians who have or currently play with the MLOs, or elsewhere in London and the Thames Valley. The OP is the University’s Orchestra in Residence, and its Music Director, Marios Papadopoulos, is a renowned conductor and world-class concert pianist.

None of which is lost on Cherwell editor Alistair Smout, who is acting as official photographer on this cold December evening. As your correspondent makes some final preparations to guest-conduct part of the OP’s rehearsal – of Brahms’ Symphony No. 2 in D, Opus 73 – Smout delivers himself of the following (it must be admitted) less-than-pro-grade pep talk: ‘You realize the company you’re about to join, don’t you?’

The OP is rehearsing this evening in preparation for a performance the following night in Antwerp, Belgium, the logistics of which say a great deal about the experience of pro calibre music. The rehearsal is from 18.00-21.00, and immediately following this, the OP’s four double basses, one tuba, and assorted implements of percussion are loaded into a van that drives straight to Dover for the overnight ferry. The musicians are due at St Pancras Station by 7.40 the next morning, where they will take the Eurostar to Belgium, arriving (weather permitting) just in time to rehearse the final piece on that evening’s programme, with a certain guest pianist who is unavailable this evening for reasons I never discover. Two days later, the whole team is back in Oxford for its annual Christmas Concert at the Sheldonian.

(Most of the previous paragraph comes from Max, the OP’s stage manager, himself an alumnus of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (stage management dept). Max is compact and wears all-black athletic-style clothing, and when not chatting amiably with your correspondent hops around the orchestra (whilst it rehearses), packing-up instruments and getting as ready as he can for the big departure at 21.00.)

Various activities observed during the rehearsal (i.e., whilst the rest of the orchestra is playing): Pausing to mark music with pencils (everyone does this, a lot); looking over at neighbour’s stand to copy neighbour’s pencil markings; pointing at neighbour’s stand with bow of violin to correct neighbour’s pencil markings; discussing pencil markings with stand-mate while one or both are also playing; checking or sending text messages; leaving rehearsal because your section (e.g., all the trumpets and the trombones) has no more parts.

Johannes Brahms wrote his Second Symphony in just five months – essentially whilst on holiday in Southern Vienna – and gave the first public performance in December 1877. The work is in four movements, of which I am to conduct some smaller portion in the final fifteen minutes of the OP’s rehearsal. When I asked Marios to make some suggestions, his response was ‘Choose whatever ten minutes you like. It’s all difficult.’

Fortuitously, the portion of the Brahms’ that I’ve selected – roughly the first half of the third movement – is the last thing the orchestra rehearses before it’s my turn. Even though some of the brass and the timpanist have departed, the orchestra remains over fifty players strong and is eyeing me warily, in a friendly but ‘are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ kind of way. Marios has left his baton on the conductor’s stand, but I’m not sure about any baton-sharing-etiquette and decide not to risk it.

It takes a few minutes of the run-through to appreciate that the conductor’s podium is set rather far into the orchestra. I’m surrounded on three sides by violins, violas and cellos, which means that no matter where I turn, at least a third of the orchestra is getting my back. Marios likes to say that conducting an orchestra is like riding a thoroughbred race horse (N.B. It’s more like driving a stage coach pulled by fifty thoroughbred race horses), so try to imagine galloping along and checking your blind spots by physically turning around in the saddle.

The race horse analogy is also a good way to contextualize what a lot of people think about pro calibre orchestras, viz., that they run on auto-pilot. (Evidence of Marios’ infinite patience: Your correspondent actually said this at our initial meeting, in response to a query about past conducting experience. As in, Why would I need any conducting experience?)

It is certainly true that pro calibre musicians can get through a piece without any real direction, and do so with impressive results. Let’s call this the ‘sum of the parts’ performance, meaning that what Marios does with the OP is produce something greater than the sum of its parts. His confidence and vision mould fifty or so individual efforts into something strong and coherent and distinctive.

In contrast to this, things start to shake when your correspondent takes the reigns. They (the OP) can tell that I’m nervous, and it’s making them sound nervous. Marios keeps telling me to ‘just let it flow’, to ‘stop over-conducting’. (He doesn’t realize that counting every beat is the only way I can follow the score.) At one point he actually grabs my arm and tries to calm things down, but his movements seem to be following an entirely different piece of music. (Something like ‘the non-nervous version’ of Brahms’ Second Symphony.)

But we survive, two run-throughs, with no disasters. Everyone seems pleased and even mildly, pleasantly surprised. As people start to leave, your correspondent wishes them well in tomorrow’s concert. The only real feedback comes from one of the lower-register strings:

‘Don’t forget the cut-off in bar ten for the double bass.’

I take-out my pencil and mark the score.

Review: Blue Valentine

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If you saw Revolutionary Road two years ago, you may have been struck, as I was, by the powerful story in this well-acted dramatisation of Yates’s novel where a married couple are depicted as their optimism and ecstatic love begin to evaporate over time. You may have also felt, however, that Frank and April Wheeler were both a little odd, and far from representative of the average married couple. Considering this, it is probably fair to say Blue Valentine takes some of the themes which originated in Yates’s novel and makes them more normal and universal but also departs from them in a very significant way: alongside the portrayal of the tragic breakup, it concurrently gives us flashes of the good times initiating the relationship in the first place. As such it hits even harder, feeling brutally realistic and unapologetically tragic, largely thanks to the powerhouse duo of Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams leading its cast. Both of them should be destined for further Oscar nominations at the very least.

Blue Valentine really does flip achingly well between the joy of flourishing early love and the tragic withering of it in later life. Gosling plays an incredible man – someone who works for a removal company, but is more interesting than most intellectuals and is a real romanticist of the first order. When he meets Cindy he knows instantaneously that he wants her, and he goes through hell to ensure she’s his.

At the same time, however, we see him in later life as a father and husband who is naturally less energetic than in the past, slightly drained by age despite his persistent love of his daughter and quietly adorable sense of humour. You can sense immediately that something is not quite right in Cindy’s attitude; any attempt he makes to relight their previously shared flame is immediately blown out by her without any willingness to cooperate nor the attempt to provide an explanation.

Most of this is shot in painfully intense close-ups, and it is once again testament to both Gosling and Williams’ talent that they never crack under the scrutiny, always looking like the tied-up but disintegrating couple they’re supposed to be.

It’s hard to resist this one. For all its pain as well as moments of romance, it really strikes a chord throughout its duration. This will easily be one of the best pieces of drama to reach the cinemas this winter.

"White, middle-class and southern"?

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Oxford still lags behind other leading universities in terms of specific ethnic minority representation at undergraduate level, despite £4million spent on outreach programs each year.

The statistics published by the University show that percentage of BME (black and minority ethnic) domestic students admitted to the University was just over one in ten in 2009.

A report published by Race for Opportunity last year showed similar findings at Cambridge, while across the country the average is closer to one in six.

With the cap on fees having now been lifted, some students have warned that Oxford’s elitist image could worsen.

Although many ethnic minorities are well-represented in Oxford, others are not. Black Carribean students acount for only 0.04% of the undergraduate population, compared to 1% of the population as a whole.

David Lammy, a Labour politician who criticized Oxford when the study was released, said it “reveal[ed] a system in which getting a place remains a matter of being white, middle class and southern.”

The University, along with many students, has disagreed with this comment, but there are some who feel that Oxford remains an institution which could do more to appeal to minorities.

A spokesperson for Oxford said, “The university is concerned to ensure it attracts and recruits the best students, whatever their background.”

However statistics show that ethnic minorities tend to enjoy a lower success rate than white students when applying to Oxford.

Only 2.9% of African Caribbean students who applied were accepted compared with 27.6% of white students.

Subject choice may partially account for this, as BME students tend to apply disproportionately for the most oversubscribed courses. 44% of all black applicants to Oxford, for example, apply for the three most popular courses: Economics & Management, Medicine and Mathematics.

29% of all black applicants applied for Medicine alone, while only 7% of white applicants did.

Sean Stevens, a second year Geography student, said, “Race is absolutely not an issue. But there is a great misconception of Oxford being traditional, with low numbers of ethnic groups.”

Asked why there were larger numbers of ethnic minority students at universities such as LSE and UCL, Sean added, “Ethnic minorities tend to place less focus on arts, whereas Oxford is seen as quite arts-based. That doesn’t appeal.”

Ron Hann, writing for the website virtualeconomics.com, called upon politicians to focus on the root of the problem, which he believes to be the poor quality of some secondary education.

He said, “If politicians are concerned about the level of admissions amongst applicants who have gone to state schools, or from outside the south-east, or even from specific ethnic backgrounds, the solution is […] to provide all of the children of this country with an education that would fit them for higher education.”

Arnold Ayoo, a second year Law student, agreed that the educational background of students was of greater significance.
He said, “Oxford is a friendly place in that I feel no differently here than I do at home. I find that differences between me and others are only more notable because of my northern and state (albeit grammar) school background rather than the colour of my skin.”

He added, “The proportion of ethnic students in Oxford is merely a reflection of the proportion of ethnic minority students in the places Oxford recruits from – leading grammar schools and top public schools. It cannot be criticised for ‘failing’ to admit a higher proportion if there simply aren’t the numbers in the better schools.

“It is a reflection on the general social structure of the UK where many black students are in the more deprived areas and predominantly comprehensive schools. The situation will stay the same as long as the distribution of black students amongst these kinds of schools stays the same.”

Previous coverage of representation in Oxford has been criticised for focusing on under-representation of specific ethnic groups.

A spokeswoman for the University Admissions Office said, “The coverage has largely focussed on one small subset of the Oxford population – those that are black (or even black Caribbean), British and undergraduate. This gives a somewhat narrow picture of things.”

They added that the poor representation of some ethnic groups at the University is a problem only likely to get worse if the negative image of Oxford in the press continues.

“We are obviously concerned that one side effect of all the coverage will be to discourage BME students who might otherwise make a competitive application to Oxford but might now think that there is no point because Oxford ‘doesn’t want’ someone like them, or actively tries to exclude students from certain backgrounds. This would be a terrible outcome for those students, and for Oxford.”

The spokesperson added that Oxford does not specifically target ethnic minorities with their outreach programmes.

They said, “Oxford’s admissions work is targeted at schools rather than specific groups of students (demographic, ethnic or otherwise), and this is because our admissions team believes that working with schools and teachers is the most effective way to ensure that many cohorts of student have access to the right information and are encouraged in their applications.”

University students from ethnic minority backgrounds commented that Oxford is still perceived by some to be an elitist institution.

Hasan Ali, a second year student at Christ Church, said, “I think it is undoubtedly the case that if you are an ethnic minority student in secondary education thinking about which universities to apply to, there is plenty of material out there to dissuade you from applying to Oxford.

“It is worth bearing in mind that students from minority groups tend to apply to do very specific courses in quite a narrow spread of applications. I think with time this will change as second generation immigrants become third generation immigrants and so on and so forth.

“I mean, it was difficult to convince my parents to let me read English at university but my children, if I ever have any, will have no such problems.”

When students of all nationalities, and across all years, are taken into account, the percentage who are BME is 22%.

It is unclear yet how Oxford University access schemes will be affected by higher education funding cuts in 2012.

Some commentators have already suggested that Oxford must do more in the way of social responsibility to justify its likely fee rise to £9000.

A star-tling change

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Standard conditional A-Level offers from Oxford for 2012 entry onwards will now require one or two A* grades in certain subjects.

The university had previously stated that it would employ a trial period in which to monitor the effects of the new grade. However, following a review of 2010’s A-level results, some departments’ offers will include A*s.

The move will affect courses in Mathematical, Physical & Life Sciences (MPLS). Students applying for Mathematics will now be expected to achieve A*A*A. Biology, Chemistry, Engineering and Physics courses will require A*AA for entry.

A* offers are already routinely made at other top universities.

Other departments will continue to use the standard offer of AAA, but the situation remains under review.

The university emphasised that “A-level grades are far from the only selection criteria for Oxford” and that the initial decision to postpone the introduction of A* offers was not due to the university’s already low state school intake.

Alex Bulfin, OUSU Vice President for Access and Academic Affairs, warned that A* offers “may act as a deterrent to applicants from low socio-economic backgrounds”.

Julia Paolitto, a spokesperson for Oxford admissions, told Cherwell, “Oxford’s policy on the A* grade was to wait two years as teachers indicated that they were uncertain about predictions.

“It is now clear that many students in the sciences get the A* grade, and that it would be reasonable to ask for an A*. By 2012 Oxford believes teachers will have two years of running the syllabus and therefore be able to predict those getting the A* with more confidence.”

OUSU have raised concerns about the impact the new offers may have on access. They emphasised OUSU “will not support the introduction of A* offers where the projected impact on the student body will be negative and where such use of the A* will harm Oxford’s work on access and widening participation.”

However, in a joint statement with OUSU President David Barclay, Bulfin said there was “less scope for negative impact of an A* in MPLS admissions and potential for some positive consequences”, citing Oxford’s competition from other universities.

“There is a risk that as more and more institutions start asking for the A*, the perception to prospective students is that Oxford’s courses are not as good.

“In some MPLS courses last year 100% of those who were offered places and came here to study already had an A* in their A-level results.”

Some students have responded positively to the changes. Carl Bootland, a first year Mathematics student at Exeter, achieved four A* grades in his A-levels.

“I would not be put off from applying to institutions wanting an A*, but it would certainly have changed my second choice university via UCAS.”

Charles Hardwick, President of the OU Engineering Society, said, “making A*AA a standard offer for MPLS is simply falling into line with the competition… As for access, in comparison with the upcoming fee increases, the effect of requiring an A* as a prerequisite will be minimal.”