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Math rock for everyone

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What’s in a name? Matt Sweeney of Chavez once claimed the term “math rock” was coined by a friend as a derogatory summary of one of Sweeney’s past projects, Wilder. After listening stony-faced to a Wilder track, Sweeney’s friend would punch numbers into a calculator to try to figure out how good the song was. This bizarre quip can be explained by one of math rock’s characteristic features: a dizzying number of irregular time signatures employed in a single track, with seven, eleven, and 13-beat metres slotted in for single bars or longer sections.

Interestingly, the arithmetic challenge that math rock presents (and that sparked its name) seems to be just one aspect common to bands under the genre’s umbrella. Math rock arose from the post-hardcore scene, and so the crazy rhythms of math rock drummers are frequently host to dissonant, abrasive instrumentation and harsh production. Slint’s 1991 album Spiderland is a good example: a terrific record and a pillar of the math rock genre, but at best uncomfortable in its discordance and at worst near-unlistenably alienating in its isolating lyrics and extreme dynamics.

However, one band from Oxford has throughout a decade-long career successfully annulled math rock’s marriage to stridency. TTNG—who officially adopted the acronym of former moniker This Town Needs Guns after concerns that the previously “ironic statement” was no longer appropriate once they set foot on the global stage—pioneer a decidedly melodic math rock sound. Guitar virtuoso Tim Collis pairs rich instrumentation with the impossible metric of brother Chris Collis’ impressive drumming, and singer Henry Tremain’s honeyed voice conjures lyrics somewhat more relatable than those of Spiderland.

It’s a bright sound, and full for just three musicians; no part of the kit goes un-drummed, down to the rims of the toms, and the guitar parts are complex sonic whirls. In contrast, the vocals are simple and untampered, and are a necessary platform that grounds and guides the listener in the delightful madness of TTNG’s tracks.

TTNG’s discography begins with 2008’s Animals (literally a collection of animals—‘Chinchilla’ through ‘Zebra’). This auditory zoo’s finest specimens include ‘Baboon’, in which an absurdly rapid stream of notes gushes from Tim Collis’ guitar, and ‘Panda’, where all the delicate rhythms collapse into a three-beat metre injected with one-two stabs of seventh- and ninth-laced chords.

Meanwhile, the explosive opener for 2013’s 13.0.0.0.0,Cat Fantastic’, sees Tremain musing over material indulgence (“You’ll be happy when you’re willing to share”) and the mood shifts in the wonderfully-named ‘Nice Riff, Clichard’, where Chris Collis programmes an Ochre-esque, aquatic IDM beat to accompany a melancholy guitar loop.

The band released Disappointment Island in July 2016. Opener ‘Coconut Crab’ buzzes with excitement: the drums mostly steer clear of cymbals and rhythm is found with accented snares and toms, while guitar tracks coalesce into exotic chords. ‘Consoling Ghosts’ finds a moment for subdued, nostalgic swells amongst the speeding grooves, while ‘Whatever, Whenever’ opens with a deceptively simple, straight beat that quickly expands into a mass of hi-hat finesse and whooping guitars.

Though TTNG’s sound has undergone minimal evolution since their debut, they’ve carved for themselves a niche so small and refreshing that for them to simply fill the melodic math rock musical vacuum with three albums of their unique style is actually very welcome. For a group of musicians to keep to quite so many time signatures is formidable; for the music they create to actually be a great listen is an accomplishment. In this sense, TTNG have made math rock accessible to the masses. Additionally, as an Oxford-based group, they’ve been known to grace the hallowed halls and sticky walls of Cellar as recently as 2013, so keep your eyes (and ears) peeled.

Not Wong: A case for genuine equality

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Both of your neighbours’ houses are on fire. Neither of them is at home. The neighbour’s house to your left contains far more combustible furniture, and is thus more likely to burn to ground both more quickly than the neighbour to your right. Seven fire hoses are required to douse the flammable house, whilst only three are needed to put out the fire in the less flammable house.

The fire sergeant arrives, and allocates five hoses to each house. You pull them to a side and whisper, “Hold on—this house only needs seven hoses; the other needs three!” The fire sergeant blankly stares at you and says, “Yes, but these two houses are equal, so we ought to treat them equally. To favour either of the house would be unfair towards the other house.Two hours later, the less flammable house survives, but the flammable one collapses amidst flames.

The fundamental misconception behind the sergeant’s words—and, more generally, certain literal egalitarians—is the view that equal treatment satisfies the normative objective of equality. It is worth noting that genuine equality—i.e. a long-run, comprehensive doctrine of equality that accounts for pluralistic aspects of individuals’ wellbeing—calls for more than mere equality in treatment, but a form of equality that provides individuals with equal access to advantage unless the inequalities are morally justifiable (cf. Cohen). Cutting the jargon short—basically: within an ideal moral world, people should be equally able to hold advantage over each other unless they have been implicated in processes (e.g. committing a crime, foregoing an opportunity) that render it justifiable to strip them of their advantage. This account mandates that the fire sergeant allocates seven hoses to the flammable house, and only three to the non-flammable house. In this way, both houses are saved. Genuine Equality refers to equality in this sense, whilst Flat Equality refers to the Sergeant’s conception.

The primary reason why Genuine Equality should be favoured over Flat Equality has to do with its ability to capture the fact that fundamental, long-run equality may necessitate superficially unequal treatment in the short run. Firstly, an unequal distribution of resources means that equal addition in resources does not rectify inequality. Giving 100 pounds to respectively a white, middle-class man and a white, working-class man may be a form of equal treatment, but does not create Genuine Equality, on the basis that the working-class man lacks far more resources in the Status Quo than the middle-class man anyhow.

Now consider the second claim. A typical critique of Black Lives Matter is that it allegedly neglects that “all lives matter”. This sentence makes as much sense as the fire sergeant telling you that they ought to allocate five hoses to both houses because “all houses matter”. Note that inequality in the Status Quo can persist on a second order—in terms of issue salience and our willingness to care. Black Lives Matter exists in response to the fact that the media have systemically erased or framed away the gravity of police brutality in America; that whitewashed newspapers and programmes have often framed black victims as faulty criminals or—at best—‘unfortunate incidents’—who largely deserved their fates.

The structured means through which these media present incidents of abuse are denied, trivialised, or dismissed as ‘single incidents’ or ‘overblown sensationalisations’ stand in stark contrast against more general outpouring over cases of violence against those who are not persons of colour. Noting this inequality does not entail that one attacks or aggresses upon people who partake in this process of erasure: it merely means that we ought to compensate the existent differential by allocating more resources to the particular cause of ensuring that the deaths of African-Americans are granted equal airtime as the deaths of non-persons of colour. Branding an African-American death at the hands of the police force as “just another civilian death” (i.e. “equalising” our treatment of their deaths) does nothing to improve public recognition and acknowledgment of the active suffering.

Thirdly, treatments may also be unequal in response to different degrees of suffering. A disabled child being verbally abused for their disabilities should be treated as comparatively worse (NB: treatment does not equate actuality: I am definitely not saying that the former is qualitatively worse than the latter) than an abled child being verbally abused, because the added dimension of exclusion on the basis of disability maps onto structured forms of exclusions that disabled people face in their daily lives—from hiring, to employment, to the ability to civically engage, to relationships, and beyond. Different extents of harms and disadvantages in the Status Quo require different levels of responses—whilst the treatments may be Flat Unequal, they culminate at Genuine Equality (cf. I.M. Young, and S. Okin).

 A secondary reason—and one that is often glossed over—is the fact that we may sometimes have to treat people differently on the basis of our different degrees of reciprocal obligations (cf. Nozick’s principle of rectification) towards them. Suppose a thief steals 500 quid from you. Upon their arrest, they offer to give you 100 quid back, and the other 400 quid to four individuals (each person gets 100 each). Their justification is: you are no more entitled than the other four to the wealth acquired by them, because the fact of the matter is that the past should have no moral implications for the present.

This argument may sound absurd —but it applies to a familiar argument against the obligation of paying reparations to citizens in former colonial states (NB: I believe that reparations in practice are an awful idea and lead to poor consequences—e.g. abuse by despots, nationalistic rhetoric being used to co-opt opposition and slaughter minorities etc.—but these harms have nothing to do with whether the obligation exists prima facie). Former colonial states have often benefited actively (and to this very date, still do) from the wrongful exploitation of their colonies through processes of exploitative trade, violent resource acquisition, slavery, wealth-inducing warfare, genocides, and more.  Having the capacity to call out and walk away from benefiting from the remnants of colonialism—and yet actively choosing to not do so—constitutes a prima facie harm. The principle of Flat Equality may posit that countries must treat each other as equal, and that no obligations to pay reparations hence exist. Yet this principle neglects the historical patterns that define our current property claims (cf. Nozick, Cohen, and van Parijs), and should therefore be rejected in favour of Genuine Equality, which accounts for historical grievances as debts to be settled and redressed.

The first objection may be this: large-scale redistributive programmes—e.g. taxation, welfare payments, Affirmative Action etc.—often harm the minorities rather than benefit them. Firstly, it is worth noting that empirical results are often mixed and cannot be homogenised. Secondly, that these programmes may not work out in reality does not imply that the principle that motivates and underpins it cannot stand. Note further, thirdly, that accepting a prima facie duty to achieve Genuine Equality does not mean abandoning all other relevant prima facie principles—e.g. social stability, respect for property rights etc.

The second objection is that this view seems to reduce individuals into an ‘Oppression Bingo’ game that essentialises their identities. Firstly, it’s worth pointing out that the essentialisation of individuals already exists independently of movements that push forward Genuine Equality—cf. racists, sexists, homophobes who define their victims of discrimination by the nature of their identities. Therefore, prioritising Genuine Equality does not further essentialise anyone—because they already are essentialised. Secondly, essentialisation is not a conclusive harm—its harmfulness depends upon its consequences; to the extent that essentialisation aids us in pinpointing moral imperatives and areas for compensation, it is very well justified. Thirdly, deconstructing oppression is a complex and multi-faceted process. An individual may be oppressed on one dimension and an oppressor on another—yet this absolves them neither of their claim to justice on one, nor of their obligation to compensate on another.

Finally, the most potent objection, perhaps—and the primary motivation for this piece—is that modern egalitarians appear to be “reluctant” to speak out against abuses that do not conform to their “egalitarian sphere”. The recent spark involves four black teenagers beating up a white, disabled individual and posting a video of their hate crimes on social media.

Let’s be very clear here. To posit that egalitarians would comfortably accept and dismiss such a hate crime is a bizarre conjecture. For any egalitarian to brush aside this form of ableist assault and abuse would be for them to reveal the fact that they are none but the antithesis to egalitarianism: partial and bigoted. Yet the more bizarre claim, perhaps, is that an egalitarian paradigm cannot reconcile with condemning ableist abuse directed towards a disabled individual—this is apparently false.

Genuine Equality requires an understanding of equality throughout time, with references to the past, understanding of present moral claims and inequalities, and a positive outlook for the future. To insist that equality means treating people equally is no less absurd than abandoning the flammable house to crumbling into the flames of cynicism and idiocy.

‘Keep the Damned Women Out’ – CherwellTV & Nancy Malkiel

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Cherwell Broadcasting speak to Nancy Malkiel, discussing her book Keep the Damned Women Out—discussing the history of women’s education in Ivy League and Oxbridge universities and how they were ‘welcomed’ (or not) by male students and faculty. Reasons for co-education are not what you might have imagined—less feminism, more feminine attraction.

It’s available on Amazon now—do check it out. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Keep-Damned-…

The Oxford interview: a helper’s view

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The Oxford interview. It’s an inevitable part of the admissions process, but one that supposedly strikes fear into the heart of applicants and is not always fondly remembered by current students.

Having only just made it through my first Michaelmas term, the thought of being an interview helper this year led to legitimate anxieties about getting candidates lost. I consequently went on a lightning-quick tour around other colleges to give the applicants the illusion that, after two months, I knew Oxford like the back of my hand (on which directions were regularly scribbled when taking them to interviews).

Everyone has their own interview anecdote and mine involves a chair held together with a ridiculously large elastic band outside the interview room which promptly collapsed when I sat on it. At the time, I was convinced that the ability to sit on the chair without making it fall down was a part of the admissions process and that I had already failed at the first hurdle.

Too preoccupied by the chair incident, I didn’t consider how the interview process, which has all the makings of a logistical nightmare, manages to run smoothly. This year, I’ve discovered the answer lies in a remarkably efficient system of spreadsheets, phone calls, and post-it notes between colleges and faculties. Yet under this calm surface, the applicants do not see the legs of the interview coordinators, most often current students, frantically paddling (usually metaphorically, sometimes literally) like the proverbial swan.

The start of interviews was marked by the strange absence of the term-time buzz, which left college eerily quiet, except for the excited and nervous chatter of applicants bonding over Monopoly Deal. Nevertheless, the evening activities of films and quizzes, along with the friendliness of helpers, coordinators and, staff, gave the interviewees a feel for college life.

Sometimes, being an interview helper, dare I say it, did not feel like work at all. Getting to know both my college peers and the candidates provided many memorable moments: the Name Game caused such confusion that I somehow mistook Rudolph for Donald Trump and the decision to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to an interviewee in hall awkwardly backfiring as we found out, mid-song, that it was another applicant’s birthday too.

On a personal level, the high hopes I had for the work I could do between shifts turned out to be just that: high hopes. Attempting to revise for collections and packing the miscellaneous junk that I had accumulated over the term proved a challenge to my self-motivation skills after an exhausting eight weeks. Napping certainly figured more than any of my intended activities, but at least I had the posts on the Student Problems page to comfort me.

Overall, it was a pleasure to welcome students from Hertfordshire to Hong Kong into Oxford and, as cheesy as it sounds, wearing my interview helper t-shirt gave me a sense of belonging to the college community and pride in representing the university.  Despite the ever-increasing home-sickness, it was incredibly rewarding as a fresher to contribute to the process that I came through not so long ago. Just a reminder to interviewees: always check your chair before you sit down.

Cherwell TV: Recruitment HT17

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We’re looking for budding presenters, editors and camera operators for an exciting new Hilary term with Cherwell Broadcasting—do drop us a message on Facebook to find out more or to get involved, or email [email protected]. There is always scope to try out anything you like and we strongly encourage new ideas!

Santa Fun Run 2016

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On 11 December, hundreds of jolly Santas took part in a fun run around Oxford for Helen & Douglas House. Replete with mince pies and Christmas songs, it was a great way to raise money and welcome in the festive period.

For more information about Helen & Douglas House, do go to their website: http://www.helenanddouglas.org.uk/

5 top things to do in Oxford over Christmas

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The days are getting shorter, the nights are drawing in, and it’s almost time for a fat man dressed in red to come tumbling down your chimney. Cherwell Broadcasting walks you through the most fun festivities in Oxford, perfect for the Christmas period!

Oxford Vice-Chancellor is third highest paid in UK

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The Vice-Chancellor (VC) of Oxford University was the third highest paid Russell Group VC in 2015-16, new figures reveal.

The total remuneration paid to the former VC Andrew Hamilton, and his successor Louise Richardson, who took over the post in January 2016, was £442,000.

This sees an increase of one per cent on the previous year’s salary, but an overall decrease in the total earnings from £462,000—including pensions and benefits—which had made Hamilton the highest paid UK Vice-Chancellor in 2014-15, according to an earlier University and College Union (UCU) report.

The Oxford UCU criticised the news, noting that staff at Oxford University have some of the highest levels of additional employment and work casualisation in the country.

The figures were revealed in analysis by Times Higher Education (THE), which found that on average, leaders of the UK’s Russell Group universities take home almost six per cent more than they did two years ago.

During the same period, university staff took a one per cent increase in pay, staging a two-day walkout in May.

Oxford University was eager to point out that the increase in Richardson’s and Hamilton’s joint earnings for the 2015–2016 financial year, which amounted to £384,000, was in line with a pay rise for all University staff.

A University spokesperson told Cherwell: “The Vice-Chancellor’s salary for the seven months to 31 July, 2016 was £204,000. She received no benefits. Pro-rata, the present VC’s salary represents a one per cent increase on her predecessor’s salary for 2014-15. This is in line with the one per cent pay rise received by all University staff.”

Louise Richardson, who had previously served as the Vice-Chancellor at St Andrews University, became the Oxford VC on 1 January 2016, with a promise to “tackle elitism”.

News of the nation-wide pay increase for Vice Chancellors has been criticised by the University and College Union (UCU).

The President of the Oxford UCU branch, Dr Garrick Taylor, told Cherwell: “It has unfortunately come as no surprise that VC pay has again increased so much while university staff have seen consistent real terms pay cuts, as universities have being doing this year on year.

“All over the country professional and academic staff in universities are struggling as rent and house prices go up but pay is depressed. The situation is even worse in Oxford, which has among the highest rent and house prices in the country, and we are increasingly seeing staff taking on additional employment on top of their already demanding roles. On top of this Oxford has amongst the highest level of university staff casualisation in the country, meaning a lack of job security on top of real terms pay cuts.

“We hope that this year the universities will attempt to redress the balance and give staff an above inflation pay rise in the same manner that they have been giving their VCs.”

However, the Russell Group Director General, Dr Wendy Piatt, defended the pay increases, telling THE that “many vice chancellors have accepted only very modest increases” and that pay levels were set by independent committees that include “expert representatives from outside the sector”.

The Vice-Chancellor’s office has been contacted for comment.

Review: The V&A’s ‘Records and Rebels, 1966-70’

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I’m a big Beatles fan, so when I heard about this exhibition—which is accompanied by 1960s music playing through a pair of headphones—I thought, why not. I get to walk around listening to the Beatles while reading about hippies.

The first room is a somewhat vague introduction to the political and cultural tensions and artistic achievements of the first half of the 60s—a couple of things I hadn’t seen or read about before, but nothing particularly surprising or fascinating.

In the next room, I’m surrounded by mannequins sporting various 60s outfits, some from psychedelic London boutiques like Granny Takes a Trip. So far, so average. There are, however, some more intriguing sections on counter-cultural publications, radio stations, clubs and ‘happenings’. I’ve heard some of these names before (Radio Caroline, The International Times, Fifth Estate), but it’s inspiring to read how these initiatives were set up unofficially and democratically: entertainment and news reporting by the people and for the people, all before the internet really revolutionised and democratised the media.

This is followed by the section on music. Now this was the real artistic revolution. They have the handwritten lyrics to ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’, possibly the most important piece of psychedelic music ever to be recorded. However, I want them to do more than just tell me about the inspiration for the lyrics. Give us information on the music itself, the revolution in the recording studio which produced it, show us some old studio equipment… or am I just too much of a Beatles nerd?

The next room marks a change in the exhibition’s topics. I’m suddenly in a much angrier space, surrounded by politics, protest, rebellion and war. Again, there’s so much to look at, but the cluttered and colourful collection has become oppressive. The increasing psychedelic bombardment has now been inverted and has become something frightening.

The key to the success of this part of the exhibition lies in its inclusion of revolutions and rebellions from outside the English-speaking world. This includes a powerful exhibit: a shopping list scribbled down by rebels during the May 1968 protests in France. For all the mass propaganda and revolutionary art, this list of basic foodstuffs and stationery reminds me that the people involved were really just that: people. While I’m reading about ‘Mai 68’, my headset plays French protest songs which I’ve never heard before, such as Léo Ferré’s haunting ‘Paris, je ne t’aime plus’. At last they are using the headphones effectively, playing something interesting, lesser-known and politically charged, rather than simply regurgitating the same old hits which we all knew already.

The last song I hear in this section is the angry, punk-rock ‘Macht Kaputt, Was Euch Kaputt Macht’ (i.e. ‘Destroy What Destroys You’) by the Berlin anarchist poets Ton, Steine, Scherben (Clay, Stone, Shards), an appropriate attack on capitalist consumerism before I move into the next room, which is about precisely that. Placing the section on consumer products after the ‘revolution room’ is a masterstroke, for it makes the twee advertisements on show seem ludicrously shallow and saccharine.

I then walk through into the biggest room yet: the Woodstock room complete with stage, AstroTurf, and bean bags for lounging and listening. There are some great items on the stage like Roger Daltrey’s shawl, Mama Cass’s kaftan, one of Keith Moon’s drum kits, and Hendrix’s jacket and guitars. But I can’t understand why these items weren’t displayed in the ‘music’ section—it feels like the exhibition is repeating itself.

‘Records and Rebels’ ends with a room on ‘Communes and the West Coast’, containing details on environmentalists and their projects. This is of course a topic which remains very relevant, but the space does feel a little underwhelming after the ‘revolution room’. I walk out to Lennon’s ‘Imagine’, the title of which has been used as one of the exhibition’s structuring catch-phrases, with signs reading, for example, “Imagine… students feeling so angry they want to overthrow the government”. This is feeble at best, patronising at worst. Yet, though I groan at Lennon’s song being played un-ironically as I leave, it evinces the keystone in the legacy of that era: optimism, and the belief that change really could be brought about. It’s a feeling that is hard to recapture at the start of 2017.

A fresher’s first forays into Oxford theatre

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When I arrived at Oxford in October, I was certain that I wanted to be involved in the University’s drama scene. As an English and French student and someone who had taken part in numerous school productions, I was eager to submerge myself in the University’s theatrical culture. I wasn’t sure what to expect, with nothing to go on but vague whisperings of something called ‘Cuppers’, and a mysterious place known only as the ‘O’Reilly’.

My first encounter with the Oxford theatre scene was the production of Anything Goes that showed at the Playhouse in October. The show was stunningly professional, beyond what I imagined possible for a student-led musical—from the superb comedy acting and orchestra, to the clean, impactful production design. Shortly after, I saw Guys and Dolls at the O’Reilly (to which I’d now been introduced). Although the grimy aesthetic and terrifying gambling sequence in the second act set it apart from Anything Goes, both musicals were united by a feeling of quality, care, and professionalism.  

It wasn’t long before I too was drawn into the whirlpool of drama: at the beginning of November, I was roped in to help with The Nether at the Playhouse, a provocative drama about paedophilia and the possibilities presented by virtual reality. As the sound op, my part in the production was relatively small, yet the experience impressed upon me how different Oxford’s theatrical culture is. At school, the teachers led the artistic direction of the plays.

Here, however, students dominate proceedings, taking control at every level of the creative process. I suddenly found myself yearning to try out roles I hadn’t even known existed before arriving here. Moreover, these shows are not just good ‘for student productions’: they need no such qualification. They are just good productions, which survive on their artistic merit regardless of whether the cast and crew happen to be students.    

It seemed inevitable, with my rapid assimilation into Oxford’s theatrical subculture, that I would take part in Cuppers. There’s something inherently gratifying about putting on your show in a real performance space: performing a play that we put together from the ground up to a real audience was one of the most rewarding theatrical experiences I’ve ever had. Cuppers was a crystallisation of everything that I have come to love about Oxford’s theatrical scene, a microcosm of its best qualities: the students are in charge and they have free reign to make shows which reflect what they care about.

This first term at Oxford has been a baptism of fire. Everything seems to run a hundred times faster than normal—I’ve often struggled to catch my breath amidst the maelstrom of work, socialising, and extracurricular activities. At first, drama here seemed just as intimidating. There was such a barrage of shows and an overwhelming number of opportunities that I felt certain I’d never be able to find my feet. But now that I’ve got a taste of what Oxford has to offer, I’m going to try my best to be a part of it. As breathless and intimidating as it can appear, I want nothing more than to see what Oxford’s thriving theatrical community has to throw at us this year.