*Track 19
Pieces - 10th February 2019
It was hard, at first, to decide which was the more surprising statistic.
Stuart had been shocked enough to learn there were 130 billion insects on Earth (although counting them surely had be a challenge), outweighing humankind seventeen-fold. But, on reflection, it was even more alarming to find out that this number had fallen by an extraordinary three billion in the last year alone.
According to The Guardian’s arthropodic exposé, insects were now disappearing (a more palatable euphemism for dying?) at a rate of two and a half percent per annum. If this rate were to carry on, the report suggested, it could end up being ‘game over’ for our bugs in less than a century.
However much, or little, people were concerned about this, and The Guardian seemed to suggest most were indifferent, such a dramatic decline mattered. Like revengeful characters from some gangster movie (maybe Bugsy Malone?), if arthropods were going down, their importance to our ecosystem meant they would take us with them.
Mankind must learn to love and cherish our insects, the article had concluded, before it becomes too late for us all.
Stuart doubted this report would be taken as seriously as it demanded. More likely, in today’s Trumpian, fake news world, it would simply end up being written off as another case of environmental scaremongering. There would certainly be those, in the right-leaning media, who would label it another namby-pamby liberal sob story of the kind The Guardian (and its readers) were always accused of perpetuating.
It might be interesting to try cross referencing this story against the Daily Mail, Stuart thought, who, in the unlikely event they had covered it, would probably have just blamed the problem on Brussels; or even with The Sun, whose headline writers might have run with “May Flies Towards Exit”.
Given that today was another ‘Challenge’ day, with more weighty, personal matters of imminent elimination to consider, Stuart would probably have left this report there (albeit childishly proud of his Sun pun!), had it not gone on to highlight the humble dung beetle as one of the species most at risk from, “Earth’s sixth mass extinction”.
As well as realising he must be ‘behind the eight ball’ in counting extinction events (he only knew of the one that had done for the dinosaurs), Stuart couldn’t help this bit of the story bringing to mind the soft spot, somewhat appropriately, he had long held for the Scarabaeinae family (who definitely sounded like they had mafia connections!). This wasn’t a fondness, he would have to concede, many were likely to own up to.
Real life dung beetles undoubtedly play a vital environmental role; who else would be prepared to shoulder the task of burying cattle poo (at two hundred times their body weight per day), aerating the soil while adding essential organic nutrients. Yet it was a fictional, musical ‘Dung Beetle’ Stuart had been reminded of, particularly the part it had played in building an exoskeleton around his and Anne’s romantic ecosystem.
Stuart had always, to this day, been mindful of needing to strike a careful balance in sharing his musical preoccupations with Anne; to keep her perception of his interest on the sane side of its obsessional tipping point. Tactically, with a few notable exceptions (Nick Cave to the fore), this meant sharing his tastes in a delicately nuanced manner, whether artist by artist (more Pulp pop, less Fire Engine noise), or song by song (with The Cure being more ‘Just Like Heaven’ than ‘The Funeral Party’).
Mindful of this, but transported back to the early weeks of their fledgling relationship, Stuart had found himself replaying the first long car trip they had taken together, and the vital question it posed, to him anyway, of how to select the right CDs for their journey. Carefully curated choices had been needed, to create his intended impression of individuality (for which Oasis would have been too bland) without straying too far into non-conformity (a line Polly Jean would likely have overstepped).
There must have been a longer list of 1997 candidates, but like all good selective memories Stuart’s chose to only remember its successes; ‘Spiders’ by Space, with its females being (tautologically), “more deadlier than the males,” and ‘It Doesn’t Matter Anymore’ by The Supernaturals, where the band’s insistence that, “you’d better smile,” always sounded more poppy, and less cynical, than it really was. Crucially though, and possibly for Stuart the point romance passed infatuation, and headed directly to love, it had taken Anne just a single listen to move past the singles from these two albums, and to show a more than passing interest in some of their lesser, overlooked tracks.
“What’s this one then?” he could still recall her asking, a few tracks into the Space CD.
“It’s ‘Me and You Vs the World’,” Stuart had replied, and, to a large extent, it had been so ever since.
“I love the tune on this,” Anne had then remarked, part way through ‘Dung Beetle’s five-minute run time. If he had not been driving Stuart might well have kissed her, there and then, for highlighting the hypnotic, repeating refrain of his favourite Supernaturals’ song. By the time the chorus was suggesting the need to, “find another flame to light your fire,” he had known it was too late, he was already ablaze!
This was a fond (if unarguably soppy) memory, but it still came with one slight regret attached. If he hadn’t later compromised, if he had stuck to his guns, surely ‘Dung Beetle’ could have made a fine first dance for their wedding?
“Why’re you listening to that old song?” Anne enquired, dragging Stuart back to the present.
“There’s no harm in a bit of nostalgia,” he replied, carefully avoiding any full disclosure of his dewy-eyed reminiscing, “anyway, I thought I’d better listen to it one last time, before it becomes extinct.” Which, in turn, then required a full debrief on his recently acquired expertise regarding insect annihilation.
While listening to ‘Dung Beetle’, Stuart had also been trying to remember how he first discovered The Supernaturals, a band he had always mentally compartmentalised as a ‘bastard offspring’ of Britpop. A never-ending search for the next ‘big thing’, or Stuart’s maverick take on the concept, formed a central, weight bearing pillar of his musical edifice.
In a pre-streaming world, the options available to uncover new bands, to find new infatuations, had been more limited, requiring a dedication beyond today’s simple press of a button. These probably fell into three distinct categories; you either, ‘heard them on Peel’, ‘read about them in the NME’ or, less frequently, ‘saw them as support’.
There was a good practical reason though why, for Stuart, that final method had long proven a weak wellspring for new talent. At pretty much every gig they had ever attended, Charlie would arrive at their pub rendezvous with myriad details on the support act. “I’ve heard they’re really good,” he would argue, “we should get in to catch their last few songs.”
But having theoretically agreed, Stuart and Ed would only stick to this commitment to the point where a decision had to be made. “We could go in now,” one of them would half-heartedly propose, “or we could squeeze in another pint.” With democracy taking its natural course, Charlie would be outvoted again, and they could all mark off yet another missed support act.
Notwithstanding this perennial pub problem, Stuart still had the distinct recollection he had first encountered The Supernaturals live. A Wikipedia consultation suggested that the band spent most of 1996 touring in support of Dodgy, Sleeper, Ash, and Menswe@r, all bands whose London dates they were likely to have attended (with fact checking available via Charlie’s oracle list). This meant there was a good chance his supposition may be correct, always supposing the local boozer had run dry that night!
Irrespective of acquisition method though, Stuart had never lost (and hoped he never would) his childlike pleasure in unearthing and championing new music. In celebration of this commitment, he quickly collated, for his latest ‘Challenge’ appetiser, one version (with many variations available) of a top five ‘discoveries’ list:
5) Sundara Karma, Y Not Festival 2017 – ‘Y Not’s proximity (virtually on Stuart’s doorstep) might be its primary draw, but it also featured a strong new band line up. This had been a great set, from a previously unheard act, with ‘Vivienne’ its highlight.
4) Arcade Fire, NME 2004 – a pre-streaming, unheard punt taken on an intriguing album review. ‘Funeral’ proved a major triumph, particularly ‘Wake Up’ and ‘Neighborhood #1’. (Blanche’s debut, found in an identical way, ran this close).
3) Phoebe Bridgers, Conor Oberst gig 2017 – the venue’s remote Dublin Docklands location meant (unusually) that they made it in time for the support, and Phoebe’s fresh, engaging set, especially ‘Motion Sickness’, fully justified it.
2) Christine and the Queens, ‘Later’ 2016 – the stunning onscreen debut, visually and aurally, of ‘Tilted’ (with a bit of ‘I Feel for You’ thrown in for good measure) puts this French band at the front of a strong list of Jools mined diamonds.
1) Villagers, Latitude Festival 2009 – Stuart had stumbled across Conor O’Brien’s band on a small stage (in a small wood), but their captivating performance, peaking with the set closer ‘Pieces’, made a disproportionately lasting impression.
Placing Villagers at the top of this list reminded Stuart of an article he had read recently by David Quantick (late of the NME parish), now a renowned novelist and scriptwriter (with an Emmy for ‘Veep’). “Sometimes,” Quantick had argued, striking a chord with Stuart, “you have a band that feel like they’re entirely yours.”
As a concept this holds an inevitable hint of cultural elitism, a figurative badge wearing declaring that you, along with a mere handful of others, are ‘in the know’ over a level of genius the less discerning have foolishly overlooked.
Quantick had staked his own proprietorial claim over The Distractions, enticingly describing them as, “a unique blend of the spikey modernist pop of Buzzcocks and the more retro groove of Costello.” Stuart’s ‘ownership’ equivalent would be Villagers.
Leaving David’s recommendation to one side (making a mental note on his ‘to-do playlist’ to broaden his Distractions knowledge beyond ‘Time Goes by so Slow’), Stuart chose to soundtrack today’s final ‘Challenge’ flightpath, scheduled for another 9am landing, by playing some Villagers, a selection smoothed by the band’s Anne-compatibility.
Driven by his typical, chronological compulsion, Stuart felt compelled to start with the band’s debut album ‘Becoming a Jackal’, which also happened to feature most of the songs he had fallen for in that Suffolk wood almost a decade ago.
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Having agreed a time and place to meet Anne and Joe back at the main stage later, to watch The Editors, followed by The Bad Seeds (2009’s headliners), Stuart headed off to Latitude’s Sunrise Arena. A rather grand name for a small tent in the woods. He was looking forward, though with little Dickensian sense of great expectations, to the minor stage’s cornily promoted promise of, “tomorrow’s stars today!”
After a couple of OK bands, a group of Villagers (absent a definite article) shuffled nervously onto the small stage. They looked surprised to be there, even a little overawed by the size of their audience, a multitudinous throng of about eighty. Their frontman could probably more accurately be described as a front-boy, surely no more than sixteen, and, as he nervously introduced their first song, in a broad Dublin brogue, Stuart’s already muted hopes dropped another notch. This was hardly shaping up to be an arrogant, Clash like, storming of the stage.
Inexplicably though, these Villager bumpkins managed to prove themselves the living definition of a book that shouldn’t be judged by its cover. They only played a short set (of about five songs), a limitation that endearingly seemed driven less by tight festival scheduling, more by a suspicion these were the only five songs they knew. The band impressed with their virtuosity, equally at home playing quiet ballads and raucous cacophony (often within the same song!), while the breadth and quality of songwriting was exceptional. The angelic singer meanwhile, proved to have a voice to match his look.
Stuart was already sold by the end of Villagers’ fourth song, but it was their closing salvo ‘Pieces’ (with no time for encores, even if they had known any!) that sealed the deal. A quiet, emotion packed opening, with plaintive verses showing off Conor’s voice to stunning effect, unexpectedly descended into a ‘barrage of noise’ finale. The transformed singer began howling wildly, and the lead guitarist managed a crowd surf (while still playing) that seemed a numerical impossibility. Despite his many years of concertgoing, this was the single most surprising song Stuart had ever witnessed.
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For that assessment alone (which still survived to this day), Conor O’Brien had immediately qualified for a lifetime ‘maverick club’ membership, albeit seated somewhere on the society’s more modest, unassuming benches (beside Tim Wheeler).
As Anne walked back into the office, Stuart quickly suppressed his broad Latitude induced grin (for fear of looking demented). “Do you want a cup of tea,” she asked, pragmatically re-anchoring Stuart in the here and now.
Identifying the music, Anne acknowledged ‘That Day’ by adding, “I love this song,” and by the time she returned, with the promised brew, the album had fortuitously moved on three tracks to ‘Twenty-Seven Strangers’, her favourite Villagers tune, allowing Stuart to second guess her delayed rejoinder, “and this one!”
Stuart was careful to eject the CD, as he always did, before its final track. The album version of ‘Pieces’ (with its off-key howling) was frankly disappointing, unworthy of his earlier memory, and he substituted the vastly superior ‘Hollow Kind’ EP rendition. With insufficient time left after this (before Joe was scheduled to dial them in) to listen to Villagers second album ‘Awayland’ in full, Stuart had to satisfy himself with a highlights package; ‘Passing a Message’ followed by the glorious ‘Nothing Arrived’.
He hoped the latter’s lyrical reference to, “a loser’s table,” wouldn’t later prove prophetic, though he would happily take its follow-up line, “but we’ve already won!”
Stuart’s need to cut the Villagers short had been exacerbated by Joe’s insistence that they should all (thankfully back to a full complement of five) join today’s ‘Challenge’ call at 8.45am (UK time) for a tactical pre-brief.
Joe had (from Hawaii) also upgraded the consortium’s communications regimen to a video call, more, Stuart suspected, to show-off that he knew how, than from any real belief that visuals would help. Unless of course Charlie was planning, this month, to illustrate his long-winded solution exposition with a full PowerPoint presentation!
Joe’s suggested pre-planning slot achieved little in practice, apart from adding further to an already palpable sense of ‘big match’ nerves, and everybody seemed relieved when the new ‘Challenge’ had finally been revealed and distributed:
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(To be continued, at 9am tomorrow. Can you solve ‘Challenge 65’ in the meantime? If you think you have an answer, then please reply direct to this email post to help keep the ‘challenge’ open for other readers.)