Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Creativity, Mum & Dad, Parents
Coming to the end of the year is always a time for reflection.
This has been an interesting year for me … with more highs than lows, but the lows have been very low.
Getting older is often about that.
For all the ‘retirement’ cliches of ‘living your best life’, the reality is it is about transitioning to a new life.
One where your value and experience is no longer deemed important by the very industry who helped you define your value and experience.
It doesn’t just reinforce the narrowing of opportunity; it reinforces the sense of being discarded. Thrown aside. Left to be taken by the earth.
It’s a pretty good metaphor for the other thing you are exposed more to …
Death.
Of people you know, friends you had, colleagues you worked with.
Some the same age as you.
Let me tell you, nothing fucks you up like seeing people you grew up with start to die.
Hell, when I was younger, I thought it was crazy I knew people who were turning 40 … but death is a whole other level of age acceptance.
So let’s be real here … growing older sucks, but as my Mum taught me, age feeds on attitude and so who you are is ultimately determined by how you live.
Look, I know I’m not going to be going out all night and rolling in at 6am before going straight into the office. But that doesn’t mean my mind has to go to bed with a cup of hot cocoa and a hot water bottle at 8pm either.
You’re as old as the limits of your curiosity.
Not liking something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t bother knowing about something. Just like not knowing about something doesn’t mean you should close your mind off to wanting to explore and investigate what’s going on.
As my Mum also taught me, ‘being interested in what others are interested in’ is one of the greatest gifts you can have.
And I am … and I have to say, I bloody love it
Doesn’t mean I always understand what’s going on.
Doesn’t mean I always agree with what’s going on.
Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the privilege I have in being able to do it.
But it does mean I know that I am always better for the simple act of being exposed to it.
Talking of exposure …
It seems the desire to be exposed to things is dying.
Instead of exploration into the unknown, people prefer curating.
Living life through a metaphorical ‘greatest hits’ playlist rather than losing themselves in the deep cuts and histories.
Hey, that’s their choice and I respect that … but not only does it mean they miss out on the nuance, they never understand how people got to where they’re at.
Or where they may be heading.
It’s why I find it funny when I hear so many people talk about ‘culture’ without ever realizing what it means.
Thinking it’s all about knowing what’s going on rather than understanding where it’s taking us.
Looking down rather than up.
Looking narrow rather than broad.
Only focusing on the present rather than future.
Or having an appreciation of the past.
I swear this attitude is a deliberate act.
A choice to save themselves from having to face their increasing irrelevance.
A decision designed to protect their ego, knowledge and importance.
Of course, this is ironic as fuck given the absolute fastest way to being left behind is to choose to put on your blinkers.
But I get it … fuck, I’ve had to deal with this reality for years and in no way am I saying I’ve got all my shit together, the thing I know is while we’re all part of culture, sailing through it isn’t the same as swimming in it.
So while I get the energy to swim lessens the older you get, the reality is age has nothing to do with relevance. What it’s really about is whether you’re comfortable being uncomfortable or you want the cosy-zone.
And while it’s OK to choose the latter, doing this not only limits who you are, it limits who you can become.
Whether you’re 24 or 54.
Which is why the older I get, the more I understand something my Dad used to tell me:
“Get the most out of life or life will take the most out of you”.
Filed under: Childhood, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
So I should start by pointing out that the title of this post is misleading.
Because while having a child does interrupt your ability to watch a movie at the cinema … both because they often disrupt it with their questions or actions throughout the movie and because you end up watching films you literally would never choose to go and see – let alone pay for – in a million, billion, trillion years … that’s not what this is about.
No … what this is about is the joy of seeing your kid watch a movie they love in the cinema.
Recently I went to see Despicable Me 4 with Otis.
As kids movies go, it was good. Not SpongeBob good … but good all the same.
[That said, since I wrote this post we went to see Transformers One, and that was brilliant. In fact I’d go as far as to say it was the best ‘prequel’ movie I’d ever seen. Which may say more about my movie tastes than my appreciation of the craft of storytelling]
But as fun as it was, it was not as wonderful as watching Otis be utterly engaged with everything happening in front of him.
It helped he was sitting in seats that moved with the action on the screen so it was an even more immersive experience … but the joy he radiated was more infectious than crack.
So infectious, that I realised I was spending more time watching him watching the movie, than I was watching the movie.
And I loved it.
Every single second.
Not just because I love him, but because it was beautiful to witness someone so captivated with the magic of a movie.
Leaning forward.
Gripping the seat.
Occasionally turning to look at me – or his Mum – to show us his laughter.
Or repeat a line he felt was especially funny that he wanted to ensure we had heard.
Or to have our reassurance when there was a slightly scary moment.
It was a joy and a privilege.
I say a privilege because I know it won’t last. There will be a time where he won’t want to go to the cinema with his parents … and while that will symbolise his growing independence – which is a good thing – it will also remind us of our growing irrelevance.
Well, not irrelevance, but maybe significance.
And while I totally appreciate not everyone wants a child – or can’t – I can tell you that as challenging and painful as witnessing their ‘evolution’ may selfishly be, the joy of seeing them grow while still embracing the wonder of life, is worth it.
Every mindnumbingsecondofwatchingeverymindnumbingfilm of it.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, My Childhood, Queen
I appreciate this is the 2nd Queen post in recent weeks, but it’s my blog so you’ll just have to deal with it. Besides, it would have been Freddie’s 78th birthday yesterday, so it’s kind of respectful. However, to make things have less of a bitter taste in your mouth, maybe you’ll like the fact this is more about how they’ve just [kinda] broken my heart rather than me waxing lyrical about their musical genius. Or something.
Now while I appreciate anything Queen produced post-1984 was generally pants – even I can admit that – everything leading up to that point was, at least for me, was a musical adventure.
It is no exaggeration to say that Queen have impacted my life in many ways.
From giving me some of my greatest childhood memories following their tours around the world through to inspiring me to want to play the guitar.
So while all of that has cost me a fucking fortune in terms of money and time, I don’t regret it at all. Hell, I’ve even enjoyed seeing the ‘tribute’ version of the band – featuring the admittedly incredible Adam Lambert – in Shanghai, LA and London. So it’s fair to say, I’m still a fan.
That said, Queen stopped being Queen even before Freddie died.
As I point out above, after 1984 – bar their Live Aid appearance – they changed from musicians and rockstars to entertainers – chasing popularity rather than attracting it. And while it could be argued they have been very successful in doing that – given they’ve made more money in the years since Freddie died (1991) than they did with all their earnings between 1973-1984 put together – the reality is that’s more to do with amazing ‘brand management’ than musical integrity.
But to have a band still have an active role and position in culture – 30 years after their singer died – is extraordinary, which is a big reason why SONY have just paid them over ONE BILLION POUNDS for the rights to their music.
And while I am happy for the band – especially as it reinforces the sustainable commercial value of creativity at a time where everyone seems to want to knock it down – I saw something that made me really sad. And it was this.
The bit that got me most was the line: ‘Legally Queen has split up’.
Of course, in terms of the band, that happened a long time ago, seeing the legal entity end has affected me far more than I ever imagined it would.
The finality.
The certainty.
The definitiveness.
While Freddie had gone, there was something comforting that John was still involved in the business of the band, even though he had retired from the band. But now there’s no reason for them to stay connected. And while I am sure John will be happy with that given he loves his reclusiveness, for the fans it is undeniable proof it’s over.
Done.
Finito.
And yes, we still will have the music. And the memories. And maybe … occasionally … the odd concert featuring a ‘version’ of the band. But while I criticise Queen’s output post-1984/85, I still hate it’s officially done. Because with that single piece of paper, I am forced to realise so is a part of my connection to my youth and history.
They say we shouldn’t be sad it’s over, but be glad it happened.
I get that.
I also get I’m a 54 year old man and it has been over for 30 years … so I should stop being so fucking melodramatic.
But I still feel glum … even though it does reminds me of some valuable lessons for marketing.
1. Artist management knows how to build brands better than 99% of marketing practices.
2. Companies may control brands, but they don’t own them. Fans do.
3. The law is more powerful than media budgets, channels and legacy.
So thank you Roger, Brian, John and Freddie.
It’s been epic.
Filed under: Birthday, Childhood, Friendship, Love, Loyalty, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Paul
So today is the last post of the week.
A weird week – at least in terms of this blog – in so much that there’s been posts about love, gratitude, distain and judgement.
And while I could end the week with a post celebrating Jill’s birthday – which is tomorrow – fact is she hates being the focus of attention, especially on this blog, plus I basically wrote something for her on Monday. Haha.
Which means there is only one subject matter that I can write about today and that’s for Paul – who also turns 54 this Sunday.
As people who know me or have followed this blog for a while, you’ll know Paul is my oldest dearest friend.
He was born 4 days after me and we have been in each-others lives ever since.
Hell, given Mum and Dad have both passed away, he has known me longer than any other person on this planet.
Put simply, I love him … and yet, this past year has been the hardest for our relationship.
I’m not going to go into the details why except to say that sometimes life throws curveballs that are hard to comprehend, accept or deal with … but I don’t mind saying it has been incredibly challenging for both of us, even though the reasons behind it may be slightly different.
What I can say is no one wants or wanted to hurt each other.
Both people – I believe/hope – still care deeply for each other.
But shit happens and the result is we probably have both ended up hurting each other even though that would never be either of our intentions.
If truth be told, I might be the one who has made it worse because I have to admit I have found the situation particularly difficult to move past. There’s a whole host of reasons for that – but what has made it worse is the fact I now live on the other side of the planet, so it’s been much more difficult to find the time to spend the time together.
But what’s added to it is that we’ve never been in this situation before and I didn’t know how to handle it.
Sure we’ve had our highs and lows, ups and downs over the 5 decades we’ve been in each others lives … we even once had a falling out for a month or so around the time we were 15 … but this has been much more challenging.
Maybe it is down to our ages.
Maybe it is down to our geographies.
Maybe it is down to the implications of what happened.
Maybe it’s all of these things and more, but the result is I have been deeply affected by it and it has had a truly adverse effect on my health and wellbeing.
What is positive is we have spoken very openly and plainly about the situation. In many ways, it has been one of the most in-depth conversations we’ve ever had in our lives. However I can sense that if we don’t put in the effort to move past it and properly reconnect … it could manifest into a parting of the ways. Not in terms of us no longer being friends, but in terms of us no longer being an active part of eachothers lives.
In the movie Bend It Like Beckham, there’s a scene where the father – who had been against his daughter playing football – finally tells her he is OK with her passion. Happy even. Not just because she has convinced him of her true love of the game, but because he has realized being angry at her would be like cutting his nose to spite his face.
I should point out I was not angry at Paul. Disappointed maybe, but not angry.
But I have also realized there’s absolutely no benefit to me continuing to feel this way.
It solves nothing.
I know he didn’t want to hurt anyone.
I know he knows he wishes he had handled things better.
And I know I have 54 years of history with this person that doesn’t just encompasses my whole life, but is my life.
Why would I do that? Why would I walk away from someone I love … someone who so much of my life has been shared with … someone who – on top of everything else – is the very last connection I have to where I am from and the history of who I once was?
Why the fuck would I want to do that?
How stupid would I be to choose to do that?
The reality is Paul and I have gone through so much together … love, loss, good days and bad. We’ve weathered every storm because at the end of the day, we had each others backs and we knew we loved each other. Hell, even living away from England for quarter of a century didn’t affect us. It’s a bond that is in many ways, deeper than blood.
I miss my friend.
I miss who he is, what we are and what we have.
My life is lesser for him not being so in it and I want to change it.
And it starts with this post.
Now I appreciate Paul may never read it – he never reads this blog – but on this occasion I hope he does. Because I want to tell him I love him and miss him. That I’m happy he’s in a good place. That I want to be there for him and I want him to be there for me. That my life needs him in it. I want to talk stupid shit with him and tell him to stop seeing Forest because they always lose when he goes. I want to hear how the Frothy Coffee Man is going. I want to tell him he’s a beautiful idiot, but he’s my beautiful idiot. I want to tell him that I don’t want to grow older without him being there by my side. Literally or metaphorically. Or both. Spouting nonsense or being sentimental about the stupid shit we did and will no doubt do in the future.
I know things are different and will be different … but that doesn’t mean we have to be different and so while it’s not the sort of gift he can hang on a wall or put on a shelf, I hope he sees this as my gift to him. A gift of love and hope … that we can get back to being who we have been for the past 54 years.
So to you Paul, I want to say this.
I love you.
I’m sorry I didn’t support you as I am sure you hoped I would.
I’m sorry I found it hard to get past certain aspects of the situation.
I’m sorry if I pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do.
I’m sorry I’ve been communicating via text rather than calls.
I know you didn’t intend to hurt me or anyone else for that matter.
I know you’re a good person.
I’m happy that you’re happy.
I hope this makes a difference.
I hope you have the happiest of birthdays.
I miss you with all I’ve got and hope we talk and see each other very soon.
And very often.
Even if it means you pelt me with more snowballs.
Big love and hugs my dearest friend.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Airports, Art, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, Authenticity, Childhood, Comment, Content, Context, Creative Brief, Creative Development, Creativity, Culture, Empathy, Fake Attitude, Humanity, Imagination, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Mediocrity, Point Of View, Provocative, Qantas, Relevance, Reputation, Resonance, Respect
Many years ago – 2009 to be precise – I wrote a take down of Qantas, the Australian Airline.
It wasn’t about their experience or service which – back then – were pretty good, certainly much better than they are today. No, it was about the lyrics to their ‘iconic’ song, ‘Still Call Australia Home‘.
Now I appreciate I’m a Brit.
I appreciate that, at the time, I had an agency called Cynic, so was full of piss and vinegar.
I even appreciate – as my Aussie wife reinforced to me in no uncertain terms – that the song and Qantas’ advertising was pretty special for Aussies so maybe I should shut the fuck up.
And that is good advice. Except 15 years later, I’ve decided to come back with a comeback.
You see recently I saw an ad for another Australian icon …
The difference being this one is worthy of that label annnnnnd – even more significantly – they’ve made a piece of advertising that ignites all the emotion, pride and Australian spirit that Qantas would possibly sacrifice their ‘never had a crash’ reputation, to achieve.
[Please note, this is simply to emphasise the point. I get it’s not a great turn of phrase. And I obviously don’t mean it. So if you prefer, simply replace it with: “… that Qantas would allow themselves to be embroiled in even more financial scandal, to achieve”. Better? Oh god … there’s no pleasing some people is there!]
Anyway, if you’re wondering what I’m talking about, it’s this from the Sydney Opera House for their 50th anniversary.
[Though while it’s being shared a lot at the moment, it actually came out about 8 months ago]
I love it.
I love it so much it made a cynical Brit emotional.
Sure, I have an Aussie wife … a ½ Aussie son … Australian residency and was even a member of the audience in a couple of the historic scenes they show in the film … but I’ve never, ever felt that way about a Qantas ad.
Not once.
Hell, I don’t even like Tim Minchin – the guy who leads every thing in the ad – and yet I still felt connected to the spot.
Part of it could be because The Opera House was to me, a symbol of Australia, decades before I moved there.
I still remember how overawed and overwhelmed I was when I first saw it for real. This incredible place whose image had been burned into my mind from years of seeing it on TV shows, in magazine articles or just everyday imagery.
But it’s more than that, it’s what the place signifies.
The story that underpins the whole film.
A true story.
One where the quest to do something different triumphs over the demands to control and conform. An ode to the majesty of imagination and art rather than the adherence of tradition and regulation.
It all feels – ignoring the fact the Opera House was designed by the Dane, Jørn Utzon – much closer to the ‘Aussie spirit’ than anything Qantas has ever done.
A salute to those who wish to push and challenge rather than seek the comfort of being back ‘where they’re comfortable’.
Now I appreciate that maybe that spirit is more confined to the past than the present.
One look at how the vote for ‘The Voice’ turned out reveals comfort, convenience and control are the words of the day.
But that aside, it’s a very special film.
Helped by the fact the Opera House is a very special place.
Not just for Australia, but for anyone who hopes for something a bit more.
A bit more personal.
A bit more emotional.
A bit more wonderful.
And if you need any more reason why you should love the Opera House far, far more than Qantas … let me tell you, even the Opera House’s cheapest seats offer more leg room than pretty much anything you’ll get on that airline.