Account of Banks.

I mentioned in a previous post that every new Iain Banks' novel is heralded as a return to form (see Transmitting Transition ). Such claims can lead to disappointment but this time, with his latest work Transition, the hype is justified. In a sense Banks is cheating by claiming this as a mainstream novel as if it is not strictly science fiction, then it is at least fantasy. But he makes the rules so he's entitled to break them. Banks has previously blurred the lines between his mainstream and science fiction writing in Walking on Glass and The Bridge, and it would be churlish to criticise him for that.

Transition is almost like a greatest hits novel, dealing with favourite themes of sex, death, politics, morality and personal responsibility. Banks is one of the most nakedly moralistic writers at work today, but where some readers may view this as problematic I think it is his indignant, barely concealed, anger that makes his writing exciting. However his writing is most successful when the anger is woven into the story rather than simply placed in the mouths of characters. Banks works best when he shows instead of tells. By his own admission he is prone to railing at the world through his novels, and The Steep Approach to Garbadale and Dead Air are two recent examples where the desire to express his world view overshadows plot, character and story.

I suppose that that if you are a fan of Iain Banks you'll read Transition, and if you're not then I don't think this is the novel to win you over. But if you haven't read anything for a while, perhaps since his critical heyday of The Bridge, or commercial peak of The Crow Road, then this would be a good place to renew an old acquaintance. You could call it a return to form.

In praise of: Billy Connolly

Billy Connolly has begun a sold out tour of Scotland, one which will include many nights at the Clyde Auditorium. In terms of bums on seats Connolly is proving to be as popular as ever. However, many people seem to be increasingly sniffy about Billy, accusing him of ... well, I'm not sure exactly. Selling out? To whom? Selling tickets is not synonymous with selling out. It seems too simplistic to say that he is a victim of the 'Ah kent his faither' attitude that often is pointed toward successful Scots, but Connolly appeared to be a hero for Scots through the 80's and most of the 90's. Then something changed. Is it because he bought a big pad in the country, or that he seems to know other famous folk? Surely none of this is surprising. What exactly do people expect? I've seen a lot of live comedy over the years, but nothing compares to seeing Connolly on stage for near 3 hours at Greenock Town Hall in 1992. It's the closest I've come to wetting myself with less than 12 drinks consumed. A funny man, and the only man who could swear and my granny found it absolutely acceptable. I was never granted such lenience.

And that gets to the heart of Connolly for me. He is a charming man, able to talk to young, old and in between. He is basically a storyteller following a great tradition. The reason that he is successful across the English speaking world is that he finds the common in the individual and includes everyone when he performs. Look at the crowd on 'The Audience with...' clip below. There are actors, sportsmen, presenters and comedians from all backgrounds, all of whom are roaring with laughter and that is down to recognition and inclusion. His enthusiasm for life and the people he meets is infectious. Some chide him for finding everything 'brilliant' and 'amazing', but sometimes things are just that and this should be acknowledged. Connolly looks at the everyday as few do, and is able to make others do likewise.

Below are two of my favourite Connolly moments, and yes they are from the 1980's, but in my defence I would claim that's mainly to do with how we relate to our favourite artists who have longevity. The time we fall for them is always defining for us, and although we may enjoy the relationship through highs and lows over the years, you never quite capture that heady rush of first love.

More tea vicar.

BBC4's Scotland on Screen was a curates egg of a programme. It was always interesting, and the premise of returning to the locations of some of Scotland's best loved films was a strong one, but surely the BBC should have made a 4 or even 6 part series. This would have enabled more films to be discussed, but even more importantly they could have used the fantastic guests and talking heads that they did have to much better use. David Hayman, Peter Mullan and Andrew McDonald were all under employed, but the real sin was to take The Wicker Man director Robin Hardy and Gregory's Girl writer/director Bill Forsyth back to the scene of their movies and then only giving them a couple of minutes on-screen time. This brings me to the second problem with the programme. Alan Cumming is, I think, a charming comic actor (although I may be biased as I have happy memories of Victor and Barry's pantos at the Tron theatre as a child, which were built around Cumming's and Forbes Masson's comical Kelvinside parodies) but he doesn't strike me as a film buff. His insights and questions to those involved in the film were naive bordering on painful. His appearance only made sense when he was interviewing a group of ladies, and one hugely uncomfortable minister, from Morningside about the influence of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Here the natural performer appeared and charmed and disarmed the group.

Surely it would have made more sense to have had the film fronted by a director, producer or critic, or at least some one who has a reputation for their love of film. To have film critic and presenter Andrew Collins as one of the talking heads, and then Cumming presenting, appears to me a waste of both their talents, and a simple swapping of roles would have rectified this. Perhaps I'm being a touch harsh, but when Cumming's role as presenter and guide is compared to that of Peter Capaldi doing the same job brilliantly in A Portrait of Scotland (see Malcolm Tucker, Art Historian) he can only suffer. In fact how perfect would Capaldi have been fronting Scotland on Screen? Not only is he a writer and director but his first film role was in Forsyth's Local Hero. I would have loved to have seen Peter Capaldi and Bill Forsyth reunited and reminiscing on screen.

If you get the chance to see the programme I would recommend it, but with the knowledge it could have been so much better. To see a real film lover talking to Bill Forsyth about his work, in this case Local Hero, have a look at Mark Kermode's film for The Culture Show from earlier this year. It not only captures the charm and magic of the original film, but he allows Forsyth time to inform the viewer about how Local Hero came into existence.

Malcolm Tucker, Art Historian

There has been plenty of discussion in the last year on whether or not we need the BBC. These are usually prompted by broadcasting and media companies who are not the BBC, such as News International, whose James Murdoch's McTaggart address to the Edinburgh TV Festival contained plenty of attacks on 'Auntie'. His accusation that the BBC has monopolised the media in this country is so rich as to cause nausea, coming from someone whose father's company has such significant global concerns. Of course their major gripe is that the BBC is, no matter what the Murdoch's may try and tell us, incredible value for money, and they can't stand this. I can only imagine the financial shafting that we would receive if they had their way and the BBC was disbanded. Charging for online material would just be the start. The BBC may not be perfect, but thank Lord Reith that it exists.

BBC4's current This is Scotland season provides the perfect riposte to anyone who says that the BBC has lost its way/is a waste of money/is unfair. The programmes that they have broadcast have included a documentary on Balmoral, Denis Lawson looking at the influence of Knox and Calvinism, Jonathon Meades' guide round Scotland, and one of the best programmes I have seen in years; Peter Capaldi fronting A Portrait of Scotland. Capaldi, who is an alumni of Glasgow School of Art, took the viewer through a history of portrait painting in Scotland from Alan Ramsay to his old classmate Peter Howson. I can think of few things better than spending an hour and a half in Capaldi's company, which may seem odd to people who only know him from The Thick of It, but he is much more Local Hero's 'Oldsen' than 'Malcolm Tucker'.

Coming up this Thursday evening at 9pm (17/09) Alan Cumming looks at Scotland on Screen, including looking round Cumbernauld with Gregory's Girl director Bill Forsyth, which promises to be one of the highlights of my year. I urge you to check out some or all of these programmes. It's surely what BBC's I-player is for. It's an obvious thing to say, but these programmes would not be made by anyone else but the Beeb.

For more information: www.bbc.co.uk/tv/features/thisisscotland

John Byrne: Music was his first love.

After eulogising on Tutti Frutti (A slight bruising of the crotch ) I've been trying to track down footage from Your Cheatin' Heart, John Byrne's BBC follow up which followed a rather doomed romance between John Gordon Sinclair's down at heel food critic 'Frank McClusky' and Tilda Swinton's waitress/singer 'Cissie Crouch'. Hopefully Tutti Frutti's success will hurry the release for this drama which does for country music what the former did for 50's rock n' roll. If anyone knows where any footage exists I would be grateful for the information.
While looking in vain for clips I did discover examples of the popularity of Byrne's artwork in 1960's pop culture. His particular style can be found on these album covers for Gerry Rafferty, Stealers Wheel, Donovan and that little known beat combo The Beatles. Music's influence on Byrne's art can be seen in these evocative covers, and provide early evidence of what was to follow.

Transmitting Transition

As Iain Banks' latest novel Transition hits the shelves it also hits that interweb. In an interesting promotional twist the novel, as read by Peter Kenny, can be downloaded in bi-weekly podcasts from iTunes. Banks himself admits that he has no idea if this is a fantastic or foolish idea and it'll be interesting to see if others follow suit.

The novel itself is being hailed as a return to form, but, as with David Bowie, this is said about every new release. While I realise that such claims are all part of the process I think they sell Banks short, as they suggest he has had nothing to say in recent years. He always has something to say which is what separates him from many of his contemporaries. Some people seem to think that Banks hasn't written anything of worth (at least as Iain without the M) since The Bridge, but that is, with respect, nonsense. Complicity, Whit and Song of Stone are personal favourites, but I find that there is always something to take from his work, even when you feel that he's perhaps coasting in terms of plot and narrative.

Transition is on order, and I'll doubtless write about it once read. But the podcast novel could be the way of the future, and perhaps it is fitting that Iain Menzies Banks is the writer to test the water.

Beatles for sale

It may be the fact that I'm recovering from a slight illness, or that I've not been in town and amongst folk for a while, but making my way through Glasgow today made me realise that life is better when soundtracked by The Beatles. Everywhere I went their songs followed and made me relax and float downstream. I especially like the thought that the visiting Dutch footie followers would think this was a normal state of affairs in the city, and would return home to repeat the trick with Van der Graf Generator, or even Golden Earring.

I know that this Beatles ubiquity is mainly to keep Ringo and Paul in hair dye, but it did make me feel that piping their music throughout the city would be a positive move. How could you continue a square go in St Enochs' while 'Here Comes the Sun' is playing?

p.s. Could you argue that the Dutch are The Beatles of world football? If you love music you surely must appreciate The Beatles and likewise the Dutch if you love your football. Both remind you that it's not just the winning, but how the game is played.

No longer gemme?

Last night saw the first episode of Happy Hollidays, the new sit-com from Effingee Productions for BBC Scotland. I am loathe to judge any series after only one viewing but it is going to take a comeback of Lazarus proportions for this to be any good. The writing team of Simon Carlyle and Gregor Sharp wrote the one-off No Holds Bard which was part of this year's Burns' night viewing, and were also involved in the 2001 comedy Terry McIntyre Classy Bitch, which had writer Carlyle taking the title role. While neither of these comedies could be called memorable, compared to Happy Hollidays they're Father Ted.

Poor writing left a normally reliable cast with nowhere to go except exaggerate and enthuse as if they were in panto. Only Gavin Mitchell's camp inspector (no, not in that sense) was exempt, (although he did seem to be doing an impression of Agent Smith from The Matrix films), which made it appear as if he had walked in from a different show. But I think the major problem can be found with the leading man, Ford Kiernan. It may be coincidence, but since he and former partner Greg Hemphill split it appears that Kiernan is content to do the same character over. The parkie in Dear Green Place is remarkably similar to his character of Cronie Cameron in No Holds Bard, and makes a reappearance in this caravan park based caper as Colin Holliday. Perhaps Kiernan is being stereotyped by the parts on offer, but the likability that could be found in characters such as Ronald Villiers or Jack in Still Game has been misplaced. A comedy grotesque only works if the audience is sometimes empathetic, for example Basil Fawlty or David Brent.

As a memory of how good he has been here's a clip from the live performance of Still Game filmed at Cottiers Theatre in 1999:

(Just in case any body's intrigued by the thought of a show called Terry McIntyre Classy Bitch there's a YouTube channel dedicated to it. It's www.youtube.com/user/fanofthetanzy , but don't come crying to me.)

Orange Juice jonesing

Never mind literary spats, this is what we want. Below is a rare piece of film of the rather lovely Orange Juice, or at least Edwyn Collins, performing Simply Thrilled Honey in a factory which, brilliantly, makes orange juice. That is a literalness which borders on genius:

There are some people whose whole career can be recommended, those who even when they misfire are interesting enough to make them indispensable. Elvis Costello, Tom Waits and KateBush are three who immediately come to mind, and I would add Edwyn Collins to such a list. Orange Juice were a formative band for me, helping to lure a pre-teen away from a possible future which included the far tighter trousers of Heavy Metal. For that alone I am indebted, but he has always reappeared over the years with knowing lyrics, melodies and a rare warmth.

The recently published book by his wife Grace Maxwell, The Restoration of Edwyn Collins, deals with Edwyn's recovery from a cerebral hemorrhage. This is one book that not only do I want to read, but, perhaps oddly, feel that I should. I know I'll write more about the importance of Postcard records in the future, but the above clip gives me the excuse to indulge in a little nostalgia, and send my love to Edwyn.

For more info please check http://www.edwyncollins.com/