Woody Allen’s once quipped  ”I’m not afraid of dying; I just don’t want to be there when it happens”. This is a similar rationale that you also find in a corny joke I remember hearing, on the Dave Allen Show I think, when one man says to another – “I’d like to know where I’m going to die” – “What for?” asks the other. The man replies “Because I won’t go there!”

Behind this black humour lies the very real fear of the when, where and how we will die. These are not happy thoughts, of course, and for the sake of sanity they are questions most people (myself included) prefer to put to the back of their minds.

I admire the philosophy of my mother who at the ripe old age of 81 has just bought a new car and continues to plan holidays and excursions as if she had another 30 years to live (given her stubbornness and hardy constitution, who’s to say she’s wrong!).

There will come a time, however, when the inevitable must be faced and so I was moved by bravery of a couple from Berkshire, who this week chose to end their lives despite the fact that they were still in relatively good heath.

Dennis and Flora Milner, who were aged 83 and 81 respectively,  wrote to the BBC explaining their decision : “we can no longer attain the desired and acceptable level to support an enjoyable and worthwhile life”.

Daughter Chrissy, who knew what they planned to do (but not when) gave a short and dignified interview in which she said that it was her parents’ intention to have a “good death” at the end of their happy and devoted  life together. A BBC booklet ‘planning a good death’ is available but obviously the advice doesn’t include suicide.

UK legislation currently classifies any assisted suicide as a criminal offence.  For this reason, many choose to go to Swiss clinics where it is legal.  This option is only available to those who have the financial means and can come to terms to dying a long way from their homes.

The moral questions and dilemmas highlighted by the Milners story are huge, but , as Chrissy Milner says,  there needs to be an urgent debate with a view to adding clear and rational legislation to the statute books. The work of the organisation  Dignity in Dying is vitally important in putting pressure on the government and highlighting the plight of ordinary people who don’t want to end their lives in degrading and painful circumstances.

Image = Plate 37 from William Blake’s ‘Jerusalem’

God is watching!

I applaud The European court of Human Rights in Strasbourg for ruling against the use of crucifixes in Italian schools. In their judgement they stated that: “The compulsory display of a symbol of a given confession in premises used by the public authorities… restricted the right of parents to educate their children in conformity with their convictions.”

The decision is due to the bravery of Soile Lautsi , a native of Finland, although now an Italian citizen,  who objected to crucifixes where her two children were being schooled.

Pope Benedict XVI has frequently insisted that crucifixes be displayed on public buildings. After a Jewish judge in the city of L’Aquila was barred from public office for removing crucifixes from his courtroom, he delivered a homily saying that “only if God is present do we have an orientation, a common direction; otherwise, disputes become impossible.

The ultras in Italy’s government have also argued that the crucifix is “a national symbol of culture, history and identity, tolerance and secularism”.

How many people do you know who regard the cross as a secular image?!!

Catholics know full well that the crucifixes represent a powerful symbol of Vatican’s dominance of Italian public and secular life. They should also know, but choose to ignore, that this runs counter to the fact that Catholicism is not Italy’s state religion.  The separation of Church and State is set down by the post-war Constitution and mandated by a 1984 Concordat.

A hopeful sign that change is in the air is that, at the time of writing,  65% of online readers of La Repubblica newspaper were in agreement with the European court’s decision.

I have to confess to nodding off during the mid section of Spike Jonze’s movie version of ‘Where The Wild Things Are’.  If nothing else, this shows that the ‘monsters’ are in no way scary – with their runny noses and sad eyes they look every bit as vulnerable as the 9 year old kid.  Sure, when they tell Max he looks good enough to eat they initially seem to mean this literally, but, let’s face it, nutritionally this would be like feeding a dinosaur sausage on a stick.Max doesn’t look too threatened – with a tale of do-daring among Vikings he talks himself into being elected king.

This is a charming and intelligent movie, but the problem, and the reason for my impromptu nap, is that the slim plot caused a irresistible strain in my attention span.  It’s too tall an order, even for a huge talent like Dave Eggers, to transform Maurice Sendak’s brief story into a full blown movie length screenplay.

What Eggers does succeed in doing, however, is presenting a convincing portrait of all the confusions of the world from the child’s perspective.  In this respect,  the movie should be essential viewing for child psychologists or anxious parents with concerns about dealing with tantrums. issues of anger management and building a child’s self esteem.

Max is a bright kid with a very active  imagination – the stresser (as they would say on Criminal Minds) is his single Mom’s smooching with a male friend.  It prompts him to don his wolf suit and make like a wild thing. Instead of being sent to bed supper-less he runs away and sails off to the land where other wild things is waiting.

There’s plenty to admire in the movie but I reckon it could be just as effective if it were 20 minutes shorter (although movie goers might feel short changed) . The soundtrack by Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs is excellent and the special effects are astonishing. I also liked Jonze’s unconventional  special effects shooting style – most of it looks like it was shot at dusk giving it a muted visual quality.

I’ll watch it again when it comes out on DVD – being in English (not dubbed in Italian) and in the comfort of my own home should at least mean I can stay awake!

I wonder if Devendra Banhart is just too damn happy to make another record to match the brilliance of  2004’s ‘Rejoicing In The Hands …..’ , an album which IMHO still stands  as his masterpiece.

Banhart has always been the personification of a red rag for bullish hippy bashers.  Consequently, the backlash against his freaky brand of folk has been substantial. Added to this are the insidious snipes over his high-profile dalliance with Natalie Portman and ,now, comes his switch from the hallowed Indie ranks of XL Recordings to the major label Reprise Records of  Warners Music Group (boo! hiss!).

Verily, not the actions of a back to basics treehugger.

But, if you look at the names of those who big up the man, dubbing him as the villainous intruder of the New Weird America community becomes less convincing. How can you truly rank someone as a sell out and fraud who can cite among his admirers Beck, Ben Chasny, Antony (Hegarty), Sir Richard Bishop,  Jack Rose , Vashti Bunyan, Arthur Magazine etc etc.?

Sure, his dippy interviews and cross dressing and adverts for cheese put a strain on his credibility, but in spite of this I’ve always regarded him as a serious artist with a passion for making music that matters.

I confess, however, that I dearly wish he would make a record that is darker and more introspective. I truly believe he is capable of making a downbeat classic along the lines of  Nick Drake’s ‘Pink Moon’, Beck’s  ’Sea Change’ or Bonny Billy’s ‘I See A Darkness’ . Admittedly, this might seem a real long shot, but I’d lay odds that DB has some dark songs hidden away in the closet along with his old kaftans.  I had hopes that his breakup with Portman might have given the impetus for some emotive soul-searching but judging by the serene vibes of  his new album – What Will We Be – it seems that his mates have rallied to see him through any potential personal crisis. So, he’s still chirpy enough to continue with the Naturalismo grooves and reggae meets samba rhythms.

In fairness, the record does feel like a more personal, sorted out work than the disjointed and largely disappointing ‘Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon’. The co-production with Paul Butler of Isle of Wight’s ‘The Bees’ seems have been a grounding influence although it still has a few ‘what is this dude on’ moments, notably ‘Chin Chin & Muck Muck’ where he takes on the persona of an old woman on Angelika where the track abruptly morphs from a gentle ballad to a tacky slab of Spanish bubblegum.

But there are more than enough moments to allay fears that he has sold his soul to the big bad major. The two ‘Songs for B’ (‘First’+ ‘Last’) are very beautiful and neither the tribute to glam-rock icons Roxy Music nor the riffy psych-out of ‘Rats’ are as bad as they threaten to be on paper. The laid back style of the second half of the record is a bit too much on the chilled side for my liking but at the same time these are tunes that warm the heart and calm the nerves.

Pitchfork’s dismissal aside, most of the reviews I’ve read so far rate the album as his most accessible and sorted out record to date. I wouldn’t argue with this assessment although these are not compliments in my book.  Fucked up and impenetrable would please me more but, then again, I realise my tastes rarely coincide with those of the lumpen masses.

Probably the biggest insult you could level at the record is that , despite himself, Devendra has gone and produced an album the Warner executives will be pleased with. It may even be his long-awaited (and deserved) breakthrough album. And if that doesn’t cause him to crack up, nothing will!

Avril Lavigne’s vagina and Kylie Minogue’s ass are just two of the abiding obsessions of the monstrous protagonist in Nick Cave’s new novel – The Death of Bunny Munro. In 2006, as part of Grinderman, Cave performed the memorable ‘No Pussy Blues’, but his Bunny can make no such complaints. He’s a character who regards himself as a “world-class cocksman” , a God’s gift to woman and his maniacal one track mind means that every female, young or old, fat or thin, pretty or ugly is regarded in purely sexual terms.

This view of male sexuality is depressingly recognisable although Cave over eggs the pudding – in exaggerating for effect we’re  left with someone with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. So the sex is relentlessly seedy and joyless – he even masturbates at his wife’s funeral. Cave has commented that Bunny’s desires are simplistic and infantile. he certainly lacks any imagination or softness; aside from getting his rocks off , no other thoughts seem to enter his head. As he tries to chat up one woman on the phone, she asks him ” Where are you?” to which he replies “Where am I? – I’m all over the fucking place”. He eyes up a spotty cashier in McDonald’s and “thinks she is similar to Kate Moss, only shorter, fatter and more ugly”.

Written in a six-week period during an American tour with the Bad Seeds, Cave  tells the tale of a middle-aged man-child set adrift by his wife’s sudden death. With his 9-year-old son (Bunny Junior) in tow Bunny works through a client list selling beauty products as a door to door salesman. In a battered Fiat Punto, this bizarre road trip in the Brighton area of the UK is conceived as a means to seek out desperate housewives who are as  needy  of sex as he is. We learn that Bunny is graced with a “considerable member” which may explain his impressive score rate but the novel charts his demise as he gets increasingly slobby and desperate.

If he feels anything for his son there are few signs of it – mostly the boy is left sitting in the car while he conduct his sordid business. Despite this, Bunny Junior worships the ground his father walks on; implying that blood ties bind us together whatever the circumstances.

The depiction of this bright young boy is the best thing about the novel – the antics of Bunny senior are so appalling and grotesque that you can’t even think of him as a comical anti-hero. There’s a sub plot of a horned (horny?) killer who travels from the north to south of Britain seeking victims en route, a demonic fiend who , like Bunny, seems to be literally possessed by the devil.

A quote from Auden – “We’ve got to love each other or die” – is a stark contrast to Bunny’s  debauchery. Cave presumably wants to show the depths men sink to in order to satisfy their insatiable lust for sexual gratification.

“I am damned” , is the first line; a self-awareness that only come when Bunny  knows he going to die – his last words are “I found this world a hard place to be good in” . On the evidence we’re presented with, he didn’t try too hard.

It’s left to Nick Cave himself, in his acknowledgements to offer “love, respect and apologies” to Kylie and Avril.