fashion beach

So, goodbye Lou Reed.  According to Brian Eno, not many people bought the Velvet Underground & Nico album first time around, but everyone who did went out and started a band.  Sorry Brian, I guess I'm the exception that proves the rule.  But I've been a Lou fan ever since, and apart from seeing him live in the 1970s, I was lucky enough to catch the Velvets reunion tour in 1993.  Though my original copy of the first album is long gone, I also own more Velvets box sets (vinyl and CD) than I have space for.

Lou was notoriously tough on journalists, who commonly asked him stupid questions and got things wrong (not that he was above feeding them contradictory stories for the hell of it), so he would not have been too surprised to see the BBC report that he was survived by his second wife  - in fact Laurie Anderson was his third, not counting the mysterious Rachel.


There are millions of musicians, but only a handful change the direction of music: Lou was one.  And even Susan Boyle recorded one of his songs...

Since just about every Hong Kong blogger today will probably be pontificating on the Chief Executive's Policy Address yesterday, I thought I'd write about something entirely different: the imminent collapse of HMV, which is now in administration, a prelude to either sale and restructuring or bankruptcy and closure.  In the UK, consumers are furious that their HMV gift vouchers, some of them only sold a few days  ago when the company already knew it was in deep financial doodoo, have been declared invalid.  There is also concern that HMV owes money to a charity in Ireland for sales of a charity recording which the charity may now not receive.  And of course people are unhappy that yet another major retailer joins a long list of familiar names - Woolworth's, Comet, Jessops, and just yesterday Blockbuster - going down the tubes and leaving huge gaps in Britain's high streets and shopping centres, as well as throwing thousands out of work.

Here in Hong Kong, where HMV is, as in the UK, the largest music and DVD store chain in the market, it's too early to know what will happen to the shops, but if they do close down, the best we can hope for is a giant clearance sale which will at least give me the opportunity to fill some gaps in my CD collection at bargain prices.

There is much that could be said about the trends behind this: the impact of Internet sales (in which HMV is also a sizeable player), the switch from CDs to MP3 downloads, and all that, but what I want to do here is celebrate HMV's history as a great British institution.  Though its roots go back even earlier, HMV's retail arm effectively started with the opening of its first store in London's Oxford Street in 1921, presided over by Sir Edward Elgar.  What makes HMV remarkable is that, long before the word logo entered everyday language, HMV's was one of the earliest and most successful examples of what is now called visual branding.

Tha famous picture (left) of the dog Nipper looking into the gramophone from which "His Master's Voice" emanates, which goes back to 1900, has become one of the most familiar and best-loved icons in the world, used by several record companies over the years, and even today a stylised version of it (right) remains in use despite the full name giving way to today's three-letter abbreviation.  So famous did Nipper become that he even has streets named after him in Kingston-upon-Thames, where he is buried, and Baltimore, where RCA had the American rights to his image.

 In its early days HMV produced records as well as selling them, and the image appeared on many old 78s.
But perhaps the best evidence of public affection for the image can be found in the many parodies it has inspired over the years.

This is a Halloween version:
and a modern update:
And with the news of the current crisis, cartoonists could not resist variations on the idea at the top of this post. If the stores go, will the icon retain its popular appeal, or fade gradually into the mists of history, I wonder?

Overheard in Delft, the Netherlands, recently - an American visitor looking at an old church tower with a pronounced tilt to one side: "It's, like, totally leaning!".

Apparently "totally" is American for about 2 metres from the vertical.  Or like it, anyway.

Incidentally the artist Vermeer is buried in the church, which is totally still standing.

Ulaca has already commented on the speech by 1967-rioter-turned-Home Affairs Secretary Tsang Tak Sing announcing Hong Kong's exciting plans to bid for the 2023 Asian Games. However, it simply cries out for another of our Orwellian deconstructions of politicians' utterances. Let us quote it first:

"It will put Hong Kong on the map and reinforce Hong Kong’s position as Asia’s World City, which will bring in long-term, though perhaps intangible, benefits."

What does this mean in plain English?

It will remind people [unnecessarily] that Hong Kong exists and has pretensions to being a world city. We can't think of any other real benefits at the moment, but we want to go ahead anyway.

Whenever a politician talks about intangible benefits, you can be sure that the tangible benefits are rather thin on the ground.

This case raises a number of interesting points about Hong Kong's peculiar system of governance. For a start, it will no doubt give the government an excuse to construct another quasi-national stadium, when we already have a very good one which is criminally underused. This is largely because the government caved in to pressure from a handful of nearby residents and refuses to allow it to be used for concerts, thereby both wasting a valuable community resource and denying Hong Kong people the opportunity to enjoy performances by major stars for whom no other venue in the city is capacious enough. The fact that there was already a stadium on the site long before most of the residences around it were built, and that the inhabitants should therefore have expected occasional noise when they moved in, seems to carry no weight.

This plan also illustrates the tendency for such schemes in Hong Kong to be cooked up behind closed doors. Witness the presence of Timothy Fok, the man the media like to describe as Hong Kong's Olympic supremo, at the announcement. Despite having the worst attendance record of any Legislative Council member, Fok seems to be able to persuade the government to go along with anything he wants to do.

Fok also exemplifies one of the failings of the Functional Constituency system - despite supposedly representing the Sport, the Arts and Culture constituency Fok, ubiquitous at any major sporting event, doesn't seem to know his arts from his elbow. When was the last time he was seen at a Hong Kong Philharmonic concert or a performance by the Hong Kong Ballet? Effectively, this means the Arts are unrepresented in LegCo, with no one to fight for funding for them

Another point illustrated by this case is Hong Kong's warped financial priorities. The government is happy to spend money it admits will be unrecoverable on a sporting event, while insisting there is no cash in the kitty to invest in the city's future by taking advantage of falling birth rates to reduce class sizes in secondary schools. The schools already exist, the teachers are already trained - at public expense, and it is almost universally agreed by educationists that smaller classes obtain better results, but the government claims that using these already existing resources would be too costly. What can you do with people who think like this?

Among the handful of TV programmes I watched without fail in my youth - Doctor Who, The Avengers, Top of the Pops, Match of the Day (this was in the days before Monty Python) - one stood out for its originality and inventiveness. The Prisoner was, and remains, one of the most intriguing television series ever produced. Now comes news that its star and creator, Patrick McGoohan, has passed away at the age of 80.

McGoohan gave good performances in later years, but nothing he did subsequently could ever match the impact of The Prisoner. A new generation of fans have discovered via DVD the story - more relevant than ever in these days of universal surveillance - of the captive who refuses to submit to his mysterious captors, defiantly proclaiming "I am not a number - I am a free man!"

Sadly, along with the news of McGoohan's death comes the news that a remake of The Prisoner is in the works. What is this awful compulsion that film makers have to redo the classics? The Mona Lisa has been painted; the Venus de Milo has been carved; Beethoven's Ninth has been composed. No one tries to remake them, so why are films different?

I'm not saying all remakes are bad - some try to reinvent the original in interesting ways - but far too many creative people spend their time reinventing the wheel, and only succeed in diluting the iconic power of the original. There is only one King Kong; only one Solaris; and only one Prisoner. Leave them alone and find something new to create.

I live in fear that one day Hollywood will be stupid enough to remake Casablanca...

P.S. It's bad enough that some idiot colourized it. As Calvin and Hobbes fans will know, the world was not yet coloured back then.

I passed a van this morning with an ad on the side for an amateur swimming club with the domain name daliswim.com.hk - now that conjures up some intriguing visions! My wife (ever practical) said it's probably just an abbreviation for "daily swim", but I prefer my version. Now, where did I put my floppy watch...

And while we're on the subject of Hong Kong websites, how come the South China Morning Post website was down for a couple of hours earlier this morning?

Both the Daily Mail newspaper and Sky News carry stories about the showing of a recently rediscovered portrait of a young Sean Connery, before his role as James Bond made him famous. Both refer to him as wearing "skimpy trunks" in the picture.
Given Connery's renowned Scottish nationalism, I'm surprised that both organs resisted the temptation to joke about him wearing a jockstrap. Whatever happened to the famous British sense of humour?