With the Euro 2012 tournament in full swing - well, they have started, if only with a whimper, not a bang - it's that time again for the Scots.
No, not to get the kilt and the Scotland top on, and the passport and two bottles of beer stuffed into the sporran. It's a long time since we got the chance to travel with our team to a major tournament.
And trust me, it feels much, much longer.
It's decision time for all Scots. And as a Scotsman, I have to make a decision. Who do I support?
The decision is made. I will be supporting England. You shouldn't be surprised at this. They are, after all, the nearest thing we have to a local team, and I was brought up to support the local team whoever they are.
In any case, you shouldn't believe that scurrilous rumour put about that Scottish fans support two teams... Scotland, and whoever is playing against England. It's simply not true.
We will always support England - unless, of course, they are playing against a country with which we have a lot in common.
Ireland, for example. Another Celtic nation, a land of romance, language and literature, just like Scotland. So when Ireland play England, we tend to favour the Irish.
And Wales. We've got to support Wales - they're Celts too. So that's Scotland, Ireland, and Wales.
And in England's first group match, it was France. Because of the "Auld Alliance". France and Scotland were friends long before we became friends with England. Assuming, that is, that we're friends now.
So that's it - Scotland, Ireland, Wales and France. And Canada - we've all got aunties and uncles in Canada. And Australia. And New Zealand. But luckily, they don't play in the Euros.
Nor do USA. But if they did - cowboys, hamburgers and Bugs Bunny? What's not to like?
Scotland, Ireland, Wales, France, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, the USA.
As long as they don't play any of those countries, we're with England all the way.
But Germany - we've got to support Germany. Come on guys, it was a long time ago. Get over it. And the same goes for Argentina, were this the World Cup. A long time ago, and they were a long way away.
So that's it. We'll support England forever, unless they play Scotland, Ireland, Wales, France, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, USA, Germany or Argentina.
Hang on - Italy. Italy? Pizza, Pasta and Pavarotti. You can't go against the Italians.
Or the Spanish - remember the girl in Marbella that summer?
So to recap, unless they're playing Scotland, Ireland, Wales, France, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, USA, Germany, Argentina, Italy or Spain, we're singing for England.
Come on England!
(Wait a minute. Holland. Everyone likes Holland, don't they?).
Tuesday 12 June 2012
Wednesday 6 June 2012
Ziggy Stardust Changed My Life
It was summer, 1972. East Kilbride, a "New Town" near Glasgow. I was 13 years old, and just getting into pop music.
I had favourite new song, which in the classic, cliched manner I heard first on Radio Luxembourg, under the bedclothes, with a tranny clutched to my ear.
I should explain, in those days a tranny was a transistor radio.
I didn't know if the song was by a man, or a woman, a band or a solo artist - and with the fading and interference that characterised the signal from Radio Luxembourg, I certainly couldn't make out all the lyrics.
But it sounded completely different from anything I'd ever heard in my life before. Everyone has a song like that, I imagine. Something that just sounds completely different, completely new, and completely exciting.
Thursday nights, of course, were for Top Of The Pops.
Unmissable, because in among The New Seekers doing the song from a Coke advert, the Pipes and Drums playing "Amazing Grace" and Benny Hill gurning his way through "Ernie, the fastest milkman in the West" (all of which had been number one that year), there was every chance T Rex might appear.
But that Thursday night I wasn't in front of the TV. I was upstairs, packing a rucksack for the next day's Scout camp, when I heard my dad calling me down to "come and look at this weirdo". Actually, he may not have used the word weirdo.
As I knew TOTP was on at that time, I galloped downstairs, and threw myself on the white, leather sofa in the sitting room.
Actually, it wasn't leather, it was leatherette. And it wasn't the sitting room. In our house it was the living room.
And on the screen, David Bowie. Singing the song, My song. "Starman".
And I could make out the words. More importantly, I could make out the meaning.
He sang "I had to phone someone so I picked on you, hoo, hoo", looked straight down the camera, and pointed his finger out of the screen, into the ether, and right into my eyes.
He was singing this strange, spacey, powerful lyric and he was singing and pointing directly at me!
And in that moment, everything changed.
Someone leant over my shoulder and turned a switch from "mono" to "colour".
I don't mean on the TV. I mean in East Kilbride. In Life. In The World.
From then on, I wasn't a kid, I was a teenager. I liked things my teachers didn't. I cared more about what I was wearing when I went out. I even started to wash.
And I understood cool. Just a little bit - I was never that cool. But the "Ziggy Stardust" album under your arm (big, on old style vinyl) made me feel just a little bit more cool. More knowing. More aware. And the same was true later with Aladdin Sane, Diamond Dogs, Heroes, Scary Monsters. But obviously not "Let's Dance".
Of course, I realised from later interviews with pop stars that he was also singing and pointing directly at Morrissey, Adam Ant, George Michael, Gary Kemp from Spandau Ballet, Boy George, and everyone who ever formed a punk band or became a New Romantic.
But that's what makes "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars" so important. Not just the album itself, but everything that flowed from it.
Glam rock, but with a knowing perspective. White Soul Boys who got into the sound of Philadelphia. Punk Rock, and thence Brit Pop and Indie.
Ziggy was released forty years ago, on this very day in 1972.
Virtually nothing of note from those days remains relevant. Except, perhaps, The Queen, who must currently be nursing the mother and father of all hangovers.
Ziggy changed everything for me. It lifted my eyes beyond my immediate surroundings. It showed me possibility.
Everything I know about showmanship and showing off, creativity and creative people, gender and gender politics, the understanding that if you want to change things and do things for yourself, you can, I learned from that great album and those two genius performers, David Bowie and Ziggy Stardust.
Years later, we played a track from Ziggy Stardust at my Dad's funeral, because after taking my young brother and me to see one of the last Ziggy live gigs, he fell for David Bowie too.
I hope they play one at mine.
I had favourite new song, which in the classic, cliched manner I heard first on Radio Luxembourg, under the bedclothes, with a tranny clutched to my ear.
I should explain, in those days a tranny was a transistor radio.
I didn't know if the song was by a man, or a woman, a band or a solo artist - and with the fading and interference that characterised the signal from Radio Luxembourg, I certainly couldn't make out all the lyrics.
But it sounded completely different from anything I'd ever heard in my life before. Everyone has a song like that, I imagine. Something that just sounds completely different, completely new, and completely exciting.
Thursday nights, of course, were for Top Of The Pops.
Unmissable, because in among The New Seekers doing the song from a Coke advert, the Pipes and Drums playing "Amazing Grace" and Benny Hill gurning his way through "Ernie, the fastest milkman in the West" (all of which had been number one that year), there was every chance T Rex might appear.
But that Thursday night I wasn't in front of the TV. I was upstairs, packing a rucksack for the next day's Scout camp, when I heard my dad calling me down to "come and look at this weirdo". Actually, he may not have used the word weirdo.
As I knew TOTP was on at that time, I galloped downstairs, and threw myself on the white, leather sofa in the sitting room.
Actually, it wasn't leather, it was leatherette. And it wasn't the sitting room. In our house it was the living room.
And on the screen, David Bowie. Singing the song, My song. "Starman".
And I could make out the words. More importantly, I could make out the meaning.
He sang "I had to phone someone so I picked on you, hoo, hoo", looked straight down the camera, and pointed his finger out of the screen, into the ether, and right into my eyes.
He was singing this strange, spacey, powerful lyric and he was singing and pointing directly at me!
And in that moment, everything changed.
Someone leant over my shoulder and turned a switch from "mono" to "colour".
I don't mean on the TV. I mean in East Kilbride. In Life. In The World.
From then on, I wasn't a kid, I was a teenager. I liked things my teachers didn't. I cared more about what I was wearing when I went out. I even started to wash.
And I understood cool. Just a little bit - I was never that cool. But the "Ziggy Stardust" album under your arm (big, on old style vinyl) made me feel just a little bit more cool. More knowing. More aware. And the same was true later with Aladdin Sane, Diamond Dogs, Heroes, Scary Monsters. But obviously not "Let's Dance".
Of course, I realised from later interviews with pop stars that he was also singing and pointing directly at Morrissey, Adam Ant, George Michael, Gary Kemp from Spandau Ballet, Boy George, and everyone who ever formed a punk band or became a New Romantic.
But that's what makes "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars" so important. Not just the album itself, but everything that flowed from it.
Glam rock, but with a knowing perspective. White Soul Boys who got into the sound of Philadelphia. Punk Rock, and thence Brit Pop and Indie.
Ziggy was released forty years ago, on this very day in 1972.
Virtually nothing of note from those days remains relevant. Except, perhaps, The Queen, who must currently be nursing the mother and father of all hangovers.
Ziggy changed everything for me. It lifted my eyes beyond my immediate surroundings. It showed me possibility.
Everything I know about showmanship and showing off, creativity and creative people, gender and gender politics, the understanding that if you want to change things and do things for yourself, you can, I learned from that great album and those two genius performers, David Bowie and Ziggy Stardust.
Years later, we played a track from Ziggy Stardust at my Dad's funeral, because after taking my young brother and me to see one of the last Ziggy live gigs, he fell for David Bowie too.
I hope they play one at mine.
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