John Grindrod: 'Concretopia'

Whilst thinking a lot about concrete, as I am right now, I want to mention John Grindrod’sexcellent tome, ‘Concretopia: A Journey Around The Rebuilding Of Postwar Britain’ [1.].  In passing, I’ve illustrated the post with a number of my recent photographic attempts to document examples of crumbling 20th Century architectural ‘heritage’ from my own neck of the woods.

John Grindrod.  (Photo: 'Croydon Advertiser')

I finished reading Grindrod’s book some weeks ago, finding it an enjoyable and informative survey of Britain’s rebuilding, and attempted reinvention, in the decades following the Second World War.  Architecturally, this period is, of course, one in which not only were architectural styles and building methods demonstrating a dramatic break with the past, but wider assumptions about societal priorities, and the very ways that British life would be organised, were being questioned.

Crown House, Central Leicester, November 2014

If the impulse of planners and architects, (if not necessarily, developers), of the period, was often distinctly utopian, the results, and the Modernist styles they generally represent, very quickly came to represent bleakness and alienation in the minds of some people.   As Grindrod’s book demonstrates, the merits, or otherwise, of all this are still open to debate. It’s striking how quickly many of the buildings and developments he discusses, passed in the view of many, from tokens of an optimistic, high-minded attempt to shape the future, to despised evidence of a failed, misguided experiment, and then to items of a heritage to be re-examined, and even treasured anew, in the space of just a few decades.

Redeveloped Telephone Exchange Building With Newer, Cardinal Exchange Tower Beyond, 
Central Leicester, November 2014

Actually, this does make me wonder if there isn’t something in the British psyche that can only really appreciate things once they’ve receded in time sufficiently to be reinterpreted through the filter of nostalgia.  The whole idea of past visions of the future, or indeed, of misguided utopianism, has received a lot of currency in recent years, not least within the cultural genre labeled Hauntology or the aesthetic yearning that exudes from ‘The Modernist’ Magazine, thisbrutalhouse.com and the like.  To someone of my age, who remembers, at first hand, both the excitement and revulsion elicited by the erection of such buildings, it feels distinctly odd to see the angular monuments of Brutalist design treated with the same quaint affection as those British clichés, the stately pile and the country cottage.

Multi-Story Car Park, Lee Circle, Central Leicester, October 2014

I often question my own fascination with the remnant edifices of the period, and my love of multi-story car-parks, low grade tower blocks, elevated road systems, subways, and the like.  I‘m certainly drawn to such places for their intrinsic, bleak glamour.  However, it would be disingenuous to pretend that part of me doesn’t also seek some slight return to my own mid-century childhood, coincident as it was, with the fag end of Modernism as both a stylistic trope and a set of cultural assumptions.  Everyone must witness incredible change over the span of a life, but when such self conscious Futurism is involved, as with the mindset of the mid-twentieth century, the sense of looking back down a telescope is felt all the more keenly, perhaps.

Multi-Story Car Park, Lee Circle, Central Leicester, October 2014

At this point, it would be short sighted to ignore the fact that, for many cultural commentators on the Left, a hankering for Modernism is far more than mere nostalgia.  In many such cases, it appears more like an attempt to recalibrate history away from the perceived aberrations of Post Modernism, the horrors of Late Capitalism, and the associated Debordian Spectacle, in general.

Multi-Story Car Park, Lee Circle, Central Leicester, October 2014

Either way, Grindrod’s own motivations for writing ‘Concretopia’ are clearly rooted in autobiography.  It opens with a description of his childhood home in New Addlington – a suburban offshoot of Croydon, (which might itself, be regarded as the archetypal Modernist suburb).  In this respect it reminds me of Lynsey Hanley’s ‘Estates: An Intimate History’ [2.], - another highly recommended read, which covers much of the same historical span and discusses mass housing from the informed perspective of someone who hailed from a council estate herself.

Multi-Story Car Park, Lee Circle, Central Leicester.  View of Upper Decks From Central Well.
November 2014

Having set out his own stall, Grindrod follows a broadly chronological course, identifying the prevailing themes that typify his chosen period.  Along the way, he discusses the pre war Garden City movement, post war prefabricated architecture, the Festival of Britain, New Towns, whole-scale slum clearance and urban redevelopment schemes, the growth of the purpose built shopping centre and the tower block, The GPO Tower, The South Bank Centre and Barbican complexes, and much else besides.  He takes in the stylistic fashions and technological advances that made all this possible, but is just as informative about the social, political and philosophical influences behind it all.

Multi-Story Car Park, Lee Circle, Central Leicester.   Interior, November 2014

What really leavens the whole study is his recourse to the first-hand experiences and reminiscences of the people who lived amongst all this change, set against his accounts of the often eccentric, (and even criminal), egos and big personalities who often instigated it.  Ultimately, he’s generally balanced in his judgments, and, despite a clear affection for some of his subjects, is just as open about the failings, compromises and downright short sightedness that characterise many others.  This balanced viewpoint is typified by his willingness to give both pro and anti sentiment equal voice, (for instance when interviewing the inhabitants of Glasgow’s tower blocks), and to carefully examine both good and bad aspects of a particular development.

In keeping with its subject matter, ‘Concretopia’ is a moderately weighty tome and I could discuss its many and varied topics at length.  Instead, I recommend you read it for yourself, whilst I content myself by highlighting a couple of small details from the text both of which have some specific personal resonance for me.

Multi-Story Car Park, Lee Circle, Central Leicester, October 2014

The first is a reference to Leicester, the city where I dwell and whose buildings, subways and road systems I have spent so much time exploring and photographing in recent times.  Grindrod touches on the problems of post war planners in facilitating the movement of traffic around their re-imagined cities as car use exploded exponentially in the 1960s.  Some of the suggested solutions now sound startlingly audacious and I read with amusement of planning consultant, W. Konrad Smigielski’s proposals for Leicester, in which pedestrians would be moved around the city centre via a network of travelators, elevated walkways and a monorail.  Part of me secretly wishes that had come into being.  Another part wonders how quickly it would have become a massive white elephant, given the dilapidation of many of Leicester’s actual edifices of the period.  Amongst these is another attempt to deal with traffic congestion, - Lee Circle Multti-Story Car Park, (pictured here).  It was, reputedly, the first fully automated multi-story example in Britain, and also the site of the first Tesco supermarket outside of London.  The building has been the cause of some local controversy in recent months, between those who see it as a monstrous eyesore, ripe for demolition [3.], and those who would like its heritage status confirmed.

Lee Circle, Central Leicester With Multi-Story Car Park (Centre), Crown House (Bottom R),
And Telephone Exchange Building (Top L),  Present Day.  (Photo: 'Leicester Mercury')

Multi-Story Car Park, Incorporating Tesco Supermarket, Lee Circle, Central Leicester,
1963.  (Photo: 'Leicester Mercury')

Newspaper Advertisment For Opening Of Tesco Supermarket & Multi-Story Car Park,
1961.  ('Leicester Mercury')

The second is a reference amongst a catalogue of spectacular constructional failures of the period, to the inferno that consumed half of Lincoln’s Yarborough High School, in September 1975.  Grindrod’s reason for mentioning this is to highlight the failings of the CLASP system of pre-fabrication, used in the construction of many buildings of the period.  The voids incorporated into its walls and roofs acted as flues in the event of fires, as was spectacularly demonstrated at Yarborough.  I, however, recall the event particularly vividly, as I had just started my second year at the school when the fire occurred.

Yarborough High School, Lincoln, 1971:  My Alma Mater

Yarborough itself was a purpose-built Comprehensive, self consciously forward-looking and very much in the spirit of Shirley William’s egalitarian education reforms, having been opened just five years earlier.  In a surprisingly early flowering of Left-leaning idealism I had actually written to the local Education Authority asking to be placed there in preference to the old local Grammar, itself recently converted to a Comp. - but to which a certain air of snobbery still adhered.  I don’t remember regretting the decision as I surveyed the twisted mass of smoking steelwork the morning after the fire, but I do clearly recall mourning the lost Art rooms and the dramatic, elevated library that once projected from one side of our torched building.

In surprisingly short order, we were back at school and studying from distinctly smoked textbooks in temporary classrooms.  It’s testament to the dedication of the staff, and to the good spirit of the institution as a whole, that I’ve never felt my education was adversely affected by those events.  By 1980, when I left Yarborough, a newer, stylistically conservative brick built block had grown on the site of the old CLASP structure and Mrs. Thatcher’s first Tory Government was getting into its stride.  Britain, would never be the same and Modernism, along with the Post War Socialist Consensus it epitomised, was already passing from favour.  The rest, as they say, is history.

Multi-Story Car Park, Lee Circle, Central Leicester.  Interior, November 2014

[1.]:  John Grindrod, ‘Concretopia: A Journey Around The Rebuilding Of Postwar Britain’, Brecon, Old Street Publishing Ltd., 2013.

[2.]:  Lynsey Hanley, ‘Estates: An Intimate History’, London, Granta Books, 2012.

[3.];  Regular followers may be interested to know that Lee Circle is just a stone’s throw from the chosen territory of my, currently parked, ‘Belgrave Gate Project’.

Written City 15: Conflicting Emotions

I found this outpouring of anger and frustration on a bridge parapet...

...then, just a few feet further on - a philosophy to live by. 

Both Images: West Leicester, September 2014

It seems that every variety of thought and feeling you can imagine is out there on the streets. 

Entropy Releases Beauty

After heavy rain, time and gravity intervened and several poster layers fell away, revealing these...

All Images: West Leicester, November 2014

And, of course, I could spend hundreds of hours trying to deliberately create something even half as beautiful.

Playlist 11

I haven’t written one of these playlists for a while, preferring my sporadic music-based posts to take a slightly more in-depth form.  However, my recent listening has included a number of recordings that are too involving to pass without some comment.  Most of the items in this list are new to me, but there are a couple of old favourites as well.  For every new, experimental noise-scape, it seems there’s still the odd, evergreen rock anthem on heavy rotation too.  Sadly, I seem to have forgotten how to keep these entries concise, for which - apologies.  Perhaps you can just skip over the ones that interest you least.

Kemper Norton, ‘Loor’:

This is, (I think), the second full album to be put out in physical form by Kemper Norton, and a stylishly packaged artifact it is too.  It’s predecessor, ‘Carn’ is a nuanced and atmospheric electro-acoustic mélange, channeling the landscapes of Cornwall and Sussex, and eerie intimations of their previous inhabitants.  ‘Loor’ is billed as a nocturnal companion piece to that release, (translating as ‘Moon’ in old Cornish), and is a marvelous consolidation of everything that’s been interesting about his work to date.  Dark, folkloric or archaeological undercurrents run through much of this music, along with a definite sense of place, accentuated by the incorporation of field recordings into the overall sound. 

Norton’s signature sound involves ‘slurring’ acoustic and digital sounds, and layering sonic textures, hidden voices, and occasional, traditional instrumentation.  Beats sometimes intrude, but softer pulses or repeated phrasing more usually provide any rhythmic structure.  Key pieces are overlaid with passages of traditional song, intoned in an affectless and intimate voice.  On ‘Loor’ these include the familiar Welsh piece translated as, ‘All Through The Night’.

Like many current purveyors of haunted electronic music, Kemper Norton blurs the distinctions between the rural and the industrial, and actually deserves the clumsy ‘Folktronic’ label far more than many others.  Those of us happy to succumb to the marketing strategy of ‘Loor’ also get ‘Salvaged’, - a bonus disc of selected archival pieces, which display earlier facets of what is becoming an increasingly well-polished stone.

David Gilmour, ‘There’s No Way Out Of Here’:

Undoubtedly the most conservative choice here, - this is nonetheless something I often reach for when in a sentimental mood, after a couple of glasses of red.  By 1978 the tensions were really showing in the over-blown money machine that Pink Floyd became, so it’s no wonder that Gilmour chose to record his first, eponymous solo album at the same time.  I remember it, from a couple of years later, as a slightly patchy affair, but this song stays with me.

There’s no real mystery about how the emotional manipulation is achieved, involving, as it does, a solemn refrain with a dying fall, Gilmour’s beautiful voice and ever-reliable guitar work, those skipping extra beats, the break in the line, “the chance… you took”, soaring female backing vocals, etc.  My preferred version is this live promotional footage, found on YouTube.  I like Gilmour’s modest leadership of the band, and the fact that organist Ian McLagan is clearly having such a good time.

Concretism, ‘EP01 - Rabies Warning’ / ‘EP02 - Another Way Of Looking At It’ / ‘EP03 - Don’t Forget The Empties’ / ‘EP04 - Forewarned Is Forearmed’:

I’m highly attuned to anything using my current favourite building material as a referent right now, (although it’s no reason why a piece of music should be interesting per-se, of course).  Luckily, under the Concretism banner, Chris Sharp has produced music that suits me just fine on all four of these EP’s.  It clearly belongs in the Hauntology camp, amounting to, in his own words, a “grey world of sinister public information films, dusty archival sounds, Cold War Britain, and weeping analogue synths”.

Of course, the Hauntological checklist has become pretty standardised by this point, and certainly, there’s little here we haven’t already heard from Belbury Poly, The Advisory Circle, Pye Corner Audio, etc.  Nonetheless, Sharp’s music is a welcome addition to the canon.  I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff, and do enjoy a little conceptual harking back to the Britain of my youth.  His new album is high on my next shopping list.

Concrete / Field, ‘A Theory Of Psychic Geography’:

Which leads me to this CDR, burnt straight from the kitchen table/workshop bench of the Hacker Farm-related 19f3 ‘nano-label’.  Again, it’s no secret why I took a punt on this, given the name and title attached.  The splendid press release on the 19f3 website didn’t hurt either.

Working as Concrete / Field, Mark Chickenf1sh (really?) sculpts drones, sine waves and abstract frequencies into textural soundscapes the listener can actually inhabit.  His back catalogue shows an enthusiasm for the electrical buzz of coal-fired power stations or heavily processed, mechanical noises, but also an appreciation of landscape and the immersive environment generally.  Here, the relationship to place is given free conceptual rein through layers of nuanced sound that envelop the listener, rather than simply strafing the ears.  Again, there is that eliding of the rural, industrial and digital dimensions and a thoroughly contemporary sense of the hidden infrastructure woven through all aspects of contemporary life.

Ship Canal, ‘Please Let Me Back In Your House’:

Also from 19f3 comes this from Manchester’s own purveyor of DIY Dole-core Noise Art, Ship Canal, A.K.A. Daniel Baker.  Baker affects a beg-steal-or borrow approach to his equipment and a don’t-know-what-I’m-doing approach to technique, but if the latter’s true he’s a bit of a natural.  Like the Concrete / Field album, this lies at the point where Noise meets Ambient Sound Design, (do these labels really mean anything?), and is involving and environmental far more than it is confrontational or abrasive.

There does seem to be a certain political, (or at least sociological), intent behind Baker’s work, as revealed through certain speech samples woven through his otherwise abstract sounds, and it’s no surprise to see his work being championed through Hacker Farm channels.  Ultimately though, the Ship Canal project feels equally like an individual survival strategy, and a way for Baker to find both stimulation and expression amidst possibly frustrating personal circumstances.

Extnddntwrk, ‘Just Tracks’:

Andrew Fearn garnered loads of attention this year as half of everyone’s favourite East-Midlands ranting unit, Sleaford Mods.  However, a visit to Bandcamp reveals an extensive back catalogue of solo releases under the Extnddntwrk name, much of which is well worth a listen.  Several of the others download for free, so I was happy to shell out for this one on CD.

These electronic beat-sketches may generally lack the punkish aggression that attaches to Sleaford Mods, but they still demonstrate the stripped-down, economical approach of those more famous backing tracks.  Fearn is adept at leaving his sound uncluttered, (‘simple’ wouldn’t be insulting), whilst retaining our interest, and each piece has a distinct character or specific mood.  Nothing really goes anywhere in particular, but there’s always some sense of development if you pay attention, and the tracks rarely overstay their welcome.  The same may not be true of the extended, experimental piece that appends the album proper, and I’ve heard Fearn play with found sound and film and TV samples to greater effect elsewhere.

The CD release of ‘Just Tracks’ also includes a bonus disc of music from the Extnddntwrk archive.  It’s a great introduction to the oeuvre in general, taking in wobbly bass workouts, busier rhythms, sung vocals and even Punk and Metal guitar sounds, amongst much else.  It also points to the greater attack of the Sleaford Mods aesthetic, but gives the lie to the chancer-having-a-laff vibe of his persona in that unit, through sheer variety of work achieved.

Flying Lotus, ‘You’re Dead!’:

I have a lot of time for Flying Lotus, which is ironic, given that he’s the epitome of a butterfly mind, - endlessly alighting on each dazzling new idea or trope without allowing anything to really establish itself.  I enjoyed his previous full-length release, ‘Until The Quiet Comes’, but can appreciate that some find it just too amorphous or insubstantial.  This new one is a slightly more focused affair, whilst retaining FlyLo’s defining characteristics.  It even features tracks with a coherent groove throughout their, (admittedly short), entire extent.

‘You’re Dead!’ comes on like a Jazz album, although Stephen Ellison throws all his usual Hip-Hop, Soul, Electronica, and even Prog. elements into the pot too.  In reality, nothing this artificially assembled could really be termed true Jazz.  Nevertheless, he’s clearly channeling his Great Auntie Alice Coltrane very consciously.  Thundercat’s ubiquitous, School of Pastorius bass work adds to the overall Fusion flavour, and Ellison’s even got Herbie Hancock guesting on there, for crying out loud!

He also plays with Alice Coltrane’s open-ended approach to Eastern mysticism, - not least in the album’s different thematic interpretations of Death and what might come after.  As ever, Ellison is unafraid to engage with big ideas, whilst creating music that is far from portentous, and even seems cartoon-like on occasion.  It’s a bit like the aural equivalent of Fiona Rae’s painting and, similarly, - never less than entertaining.

Swans, ‘To Be Kind’:

Swans, (Michael Gira: Third From Left).

This title also seems ironic given Swans were once responsible for some of the most alienating quasi-industrial racket ever inflicted on audiences.  I’d contend it was never just about pissing people off though.  The band’s long history shows considerable musical evolution, and Michael Gira may just be the most emotionally honest artist working in music today.  He’s certainly one of the most intense, I suspect.

This reconstituted, late incarnation of Swans has been a revelation, - applying various aspects of earlier band phases to an expansive sound that is vast in its overall scope.  It combines raw power, and a persistence that seems almost pathological on occasions, with precision of execution and as skilful a deployment of subtleties and musical spaces as of the grand gestures.  It’s nominally Post Rock in genre terms, but mostly just sounds like itself.

The previous album, ‘The Seer’, was breathtaking, but this one may even top it.  There are wonderful things from beginning to end, but it’s hard to ignore the half-hour epic that is ‘Bring The Sun/Toussaint L’Ouverture’.  The first half amounts to a mantra that I find properly transcendent, whilst the second goes deeper into the heart of darkness than even the Doors’ ‘The End’ managed, (and without the leather trousers).  For once, bigger really is better.

Bob Dylan, ‘Shelter From A Hard Rain’:

Bob Dylan: "Someone's Got It In For Me…"

I can’t afford the recent multi-disc release of Dylan & The Band’s complete ‘The Basement Tapes’, but this is some recompense.  It’s an unofficially released document of the once televised, penultimate date of 1976’s ‘Rolling Thunder Review’, and augments the official ‘Hard Rain’ live album from the period.  I’ve enthused about the earlier record’s shambolic, almost apocalyptic qualities in an earlier playlist, but this one fleshes out the story further and lends Dylan’s performance a more three-dimensional aspect in the process.

The stresses under which the whole venture was undertaken are legendary, with torrential downpours delaying the Fort Collins arena event for two days whilst Dylan kept a TV crew on expensive retainer and descended into alcohol-fueled domestic warfare with his estranged wife, Sarah.  When his road-weary musical troupe finally took the stage, it’s a miracle they weren’t all electrocuted as their canopy leaked in the persisting deluge, and instruments detuned themselves in the humidity.  Somehow, he fed on it all to produce a performance that transmutes an undeniably sloppy presentation into something else altogether.

This record demonstrates there was more to the gig than just some one-man-against-the world psychodrama, however.  There are socially conscious songs here, sung in duet with Joan Baez, that show plenty of commitment.  These versions of ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’, ‘Railroad Boy’, Guthrie’s ‘Deportee’, and ‘I Pity The Poor Immigrant’, are well worth their inclusion, and the last three are real rarities, (unavailable elsewhere, I believe).

The duplication of tracks from ‘Hard Rain’ comes at the end, but I have no problem in paying twice for these versions of ‘Shelter From The Storm, Maggie’s Farm’, ‘One Too Many Mornings’ and ‘Idiot Wind’.  The latter, being Dylan’s notoriously bitter divorce song, heaps insult upon insult on Sarah before finally mustering some shreds of empathy and remorse from the wreckage to accept equal responsibility for the mess they (he?) created.  That she herself looked on as he dredged up this startling performance is rather astounding.

Aphex Twin, ‘Syro’:

I'm Generally Cynical About Marketing, But This Is An Amusing Example, I Suppose.

Hurrah!  At last, - a new, proper, Aphex Twin record, (although Richard D James hasn’t been exactly silent during his supposed withdrawal).  ‘Syro’ isn’t particularly breaking any new ground, or ahead of anyone’s game, (including James’ own), and he’s not trying to poke fun or deliberately irritate anyone either.  It is, however, full of splendid things and deeply satisfying as a whole.  It makes me remember how much we once relied on him for all this.  Deep joy.

Concrete 2: Take Me To The Bridge

Clifton Bridge, Nottingham, November 2014

Although various themes and ideas run through my current work, it’s hardly a secret that much of what I do is generally released by some sense of Place in one way or another.  Thus it is, that there are few experiences I relish more than discovering an exciting or resonant new site when least expected.

Clifton Bridge, Nottingham, November 2014

The one pictured here loomed out of the fog as I drove back into Nottingham from a social gathering, late one night, recently.  Keen to avoid the dreary inevitability of a hangover, I was the self-nominated driver and following an unfamiliar route back into town via someone else’s home drop-off.  Whilst it may have compromised my participation in the revelry slightly, the strategy proved successful as I was up early enough, and with sufficient energy, to return for a proper look the next morning, on my way back to Leicester.

Clifton Bridge, Nottingham, November 2014

The site itself lies at the point where Nottingham’s Western Ring Road crosses the River Trent at Clifton Bridge.  It’s only a short distance from the Queens Drive Interchange that I featured a few posts back, and constitutes a similarly dramatic visual statement in some respects.  However, as it lies a little off my normal beat, it was completely new to me.  It’s another reminder of the value of deliberately seeking alternative, exploratory routes when out and about, - something I’ve always known, but which can sometimes get forgotten in the urgency of routine journeys.

Clifton Bridge, Nottingham, November 2014

As it is, this site provides loads of fuel for my current concrete fixation, in the form of double and single spans, flying over the river in parallel.  These are supported on the inevitable, massive slab supports, and rely on gentle, but dynamic arch structures to get across to the opposite bank.  They also feature a wealth of complex shuttering textures and patterns, (as at Queen’s Drive), pleasing patinas of weathering and erosion, interesting steel-cage elements, and the inevitable dialogue between graffiti and the surface coatings designed to repel it.  Of the latter, the standard, threatening tribal idents were accompanied by a pleasingly inept frieze, which reminded me slightly of certain Neolithic rock art ‘message boards’.

Clifton Bridge, Nottingham, November 2014

If this weren’t enough, the short walk to the bridges also provided some pleasing primary yellow interventions into a chromatically drab scene, (always a draw), and also a section of hazard stripes, (likewise).  I’m always delighted by the arbitrary, self-fulfilling nature of such Max Headroom signage, and this example was pleasingly juxtaposed against a blue-painted industrial roofline beyond.

Close To Clifton Bridge, Nottingham, November 2014

I'll be heading back to this site with my video camera before long I'm sure, and am already wondering about the view back from the opposite bank.

Close To Clifton Bridge, Nottingham, November 2014