"Sir Isaac Newton himself who could measure the courses of the planets, and weigh the earth as in a pair of scales, even he had not algebra enough to reduce that amiable part of our species to a just equation: and they are the only heavenly bodies, whose orbits are as yet uncertain." - David Hume, Letter to Mrs. Dysart of Eccles, April 1751

'It would be ludicrous to believe that a defenseless people has nothing but friends, and it would be a deranged calculation to suppose that the enemy could perhaps be touched by the absence of a resistance. No one thinks it possible that the world could, for example, be transformed into a condition of pure morality by the renunciation of every aesthetic or economic productivity. Even less can a people hope to bring about a purely moral or purely economic condition of humanity by evading every political decision. If a people no longer possess the energy or the will to maintain itself in the sphere of politics, the latter will not thereby vanish from the world. Only a weak people will disappear.' Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political

Silkie / Mosca / Ikonika

In that order, I think, over at FWD>>. The sound, compared to Fabric, was pristine, clear, sharp, beautiful. Silkie was recognizably soulful and spacey. Mosca went for thunder and rudeboi chatter, but it was Ikonika's rugged videogame workouts that did the most damage. Never rated her all that much after that Contact album, but now I'm pretty much in love. Dropped her own bleepy version of Ciara / Tricky Stewart / The-Dream's 'Ride' in the middle of her set, a song (and video) I've been obsessing over these past couple of days. Moment of the night.

'To the wild billows it has been said, ‘thus far shalt thou go, and no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.’ Vainly then do they beat and foam, restrained by the power that confines the struggling planets in their orbits, matter yields to the great governing Spirit. But an immortal soul, not restrained by mechanical laws and struggling to free itself from the shackles of matter, contributes to, instead of disturbing, the order of creation, when, co-operating with the Father of spirits, it tries to govern itself by the invariable rule that, in a degree before which our imagination faints, regulates the universe.' - Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

Joe The Barbarian

A riff on Conan? Fantasy novels in general, according to wikipedia. And it's Grant Morrison, and he's playing inside our collective unconscious again -- funneling timeless allegories of life vs. death, science vs. faith, cowardice vs. courage, thru a tale of a bullied teenager with an overdeveloped imagination dealing with bereavement. Heaving with ideas (warrior rats, dwarf pirates, flying machines) and phenomenal set-pieces (there's an awesome retelling of Gandalf's duel with the Balrog in the middle of the mini). As important is the palpable sense of threat Morrison and artist Sean Murphy create. The hero is diabetic, and a lack of glucose fires off a spectacular, and very distracting, hallucination. The tension between wanting to explore this marvelous imaginary world, and wanting its author to survive, is very well managed. Thrilling.

Ramadanman / Joy Orbison / Ben UFO / Mala / Pinch

@ Fabric, my first exposure to dubstep in rave form. Pretty good line-up, right? Some of the leading lights gathered together to celebrate the release of Ramadanman's FabricLive CD. So 'twas of interest that Rama's set, which kicked off the party, moved me the least. Very housey, I thought. You couldn't escape the 4/4. Where did the swing go, dude? The haywire precussion bits were the most energizing, but quite a lot of it plodded. I was pretty grateful when the awkward transition to James Blake's "I Never Learnt To Share" heralded the end of the set.

Joy Orbison b2b with Ben UFO were next. Joy O may prove to be a bit of a one-hit-wonder, I fear. Was that jazzy noodling I heard on one of the tracks? Ben UFO in action, however, was mesmerizing. My spirits had picked up by the transition to a more garage-y rhythm, anyways, but the way he pulled the beat back and dropped it... the man's a pro.

Mala b2b with Pinch was the highlight of the night, obv. One bringing the half-step, the other the wobble. A better fit for the soundsystem as well, I thought. The youngsters with their chopped vox and synths had the the buzz and bubble of their tracks filtered out by speakers that leaned overwhelmingly on bass. That said, I listen to Hessle's audio on computer speakers, so my perspective is probs very skewed. Anyways, once things got down to the gutter rumbles and whipcracks, skanking became an unadulterated pleasure.

As for the venue, bit of a maze. Looks great, in a superclub pretending to be grimey kind of way. The male/female ratio was really bad, however. The ladies disappeared almost entirely when the old-gen dubstep kicked in. Hessle's take on funky house is perhaps still too muscular for the female contingent to fully get on board. Racial mix was predominantly white, perhaps because of the (very house and techno inflected) music, or perhaps because it's Fabric and it costs a fortune. Very middle class clientele as well. Man, everyone looked just like me! Highlights weren't many. The fat guys with the sunglasses are always the most fun. I swear the guy standing next to (but not in) the dj booth looked exactly like Kieran Hebden. Also spotted a kid with a Tellison t-shirt, for which I was grateful. Not an insular scene, at least. But not a particularly inspiring one, either.

Somersault

Oppression on two levels. Heidi needs her bambi eyes, and men, to survive. Her widowed landlady is the contrast here, their scrapbooks the link between them. When Heidi tries to ensnare Joe, asking him if he loves her yet, Joe bristles. So Heidi makes herself vulnerable, dependent.

But look at Joe's farmhouse, his reference to peasant food, Heidi not knowing what to order at the restaurant. The relationship bridges a pretty stark class division as well, one brought out emphatically by Joe's jealous friend Stuart.

Great how gentle the touches of dialogue are. Bianca telling Heidi she's "alright"... to ride her brother's pony. Heidi and Joe's relationship is BUILT on indirect communication. Karl's empathy problem rather bluntly states the case: Joe can't communicate, and the only intimacy Heidi is aware of is the physical kind. Actually, Joe's just as bad, and a hypocrite for it -- rejection leads him to look for rebounds in surprising places.

Hence the blue. VERY blue, this film. Snow snow snow, snowing in the emotion. Joe uses boiled water to melt the ice off his windshield -- his first night with Heidi. And the climactic scene where the confrontations spill out -- flame red.

Several (male, which is interesting) reviewers were a bit frustrated with the beginning and ending of the film, but I think the answer lies in the director's professed fairy-tale sensibility. The film kicks off with Heidi kissing her mother's boyfriend, and then being discovered. Her mother is horrified, and Heidi runs away. No motive is readily supplied, so it does end up feeling slightly contrived. But I think the fairy-tale mood comes to the rescue. It's a thematically relevant way to launch our heroine into her somersault. When things turn upside down, then we'll get to the bottom of her character. And the ending? Well, I just like to think that the director has read Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber. Feels contrived, until you start thinking about it.

Batman R.I.P.

Morrison is so consistently excellent, you end up focusing on the small number of storytelling beats he fumbles. Here, the conversation with Jezebel in the Batcave, and some of Doctor Hurt's speeches, are less sublime, more ridiculous. The pulp needs to touch base with reality SOMEWHERE, Grant. In general, the two villains weren't all that interesting, perhaps because I haven't read the series as a whole. (Le Bossu, on the other hand, was magnificent.)

But this is me quibbling at the margins. Yet another sumptuous performance, hitting that nerve of unrelenting tenacity in Batman's character much better than Gaiman did. The confidence in the storytelling, particularly in the later issues, is a marvel. Morrison is almost better at the lightning fast, hypercompressed scenes, distilling the essentials before zooming on to the next page. He trusts his audience to keep up. And our trust is rewarded.

Siege

Please tell me this is the end of it now. We know the line off by heart. Avengers Disassembled, House of M, Civil War, Secret Invasion -- one giant pre-planned story involving the entire Marvel universe. Is it now done? Has Bendis had enough? Isn't it time to let this thing go?

Only four issues, this one, so there's no space for anything but the punching. And said punching is just the siege of Gondor in Return of the King, but with superheroes. In itself, nothing to complain about -- there's plenty of widescreen battle-scene glee here. But what happened to the characters, guys? Osborn? Loki? Their motives, anyone? And the Sentry? Allegory for what, pray tell? What is this book saying? Why was it written?

Bendis has had a grand old time playing in the Marvel universe, and his impact at the company will (deservedly) go down in history. But he needs to leave the playpen for a bit. He's talked loads about how he believes constant output improves quality, but I think he's mistaken. His jokes aren't funny anymore, and he's running out of things to say. Tap out, man. Give some other writers a chance. Let's see what Fraction or Brubaker or Hickman can do.