I I TOLD YOU Sue Zuki ain‘t the name oi a broad, it's a bike. New book ’em on a 402/59— Ditenslve Parking - on my toe! Black Rain: the latest iilm irom Ridley ‘Blade Runner' Scott has Michael Douglas asa street-wise New York cop tracking down a Japanese killer. See Film Index page 18.
I YD MD~F01 I'm tellin ya dis kid's got a raiicard and he ain'tatraid ta use it. Forget it sarge you only get a third oil these days anyway- look I‘ll just geta bus 0K? Casualties at War, Brian De Palma's brainchild, has Michael J Fox as a grunt with a conscience. See Film index pagetB.
Gerra load of this! Hot from the press: Ross Parsons examines the shelving of boozy Bukowski’s poems,
F anshawe at the Tron, organ transplants, and the latest contribution to Glasgow’s 1990 effort, complete with an On The Buses star. Fares please.
Wanted: organ donors. It has finally dawned on Edinburgh District Council that the Usher Hall organ is chronically sick. The key to the problem lies in their stop-gap solution . In a-chord
with the City’s reputation for artistic parsimony, the powers that be have been peddled an electronic substitute for a-minor sum of £12,000. Both the SNO and the SCO have rejected the transplant with predictably liverish complaints. The bypass operation fails to get to the heart ofthe matter, they drone. ‘Cheap and nasty,’ piped a choked spokesperson. The Council has been ‘caught by the short and curlies,’ said the International Festival’s Associate Director, Christopher Barron. Something aorta be done; that’s the lung and the short ofit.
Meanwhile Ivor Norwich of the Liverpool-based organ builders Russell and Draper, struggles to keep ‘the old girl alive‘ during performances, lurking in the bowels like the Phantom ofthe Opera. Armed with torch and hammer he can follow the score and reach those parts the organist cannot by thumping the capricious mechanics into submission. Recent estimates for the cost ofa replacement have been put at £250,000. Presumably the cash has gut to come from elsewhere ifthe Council can‘t foot the bill. Ivor Norwich would like to see the organ rebuilt to the original 1914 specification. While as a ‘concert’ organ it suffers from the current fashion for rebuilding reproduction ‘classical‘ instruments, its eloquent sound is well-suited to the Usher Hall. Grinds Norwich, ‘No advice has been taken.‘
Worse than being left on the shell, is being left on the wrong shell. As poet Charles Bukowski should know— he's been on a law, as well as having downed a law, in his time. Though even he would be surprised to lind his works
shelved under Music. But that’s where Waterstones in Edinburgh dumped his latest collection ol poems, Play The Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Til Your Fingers Bleed and Drop Dll. Doubtless they thought it a guidebook ior demented keyboard players. Watch out ior Satanic Verses on otter as an occult songbook and the invaluable campanologlsts’ guide: For Whom The Bell Tolls.
Meanwhile lurking in a wood near Guisborough is Salman ‘publish and be drowned’ Rushdie. We kid you not. There he is, large as life, bounding through the undergrowth as if there was no tomorrow. Well all right it's probably not the real McCoy but a paid stooge participating in a variation of Skirmish, an outdoor game for wuffians. This somewhat tasteless idea comes from the director of a games firm based in Cleveland who claims it’s only a bit of fun, to amuse Muslims and literary critics alike. At the moment they have no plans to feature other celebrities in similar games, though a Shoot the Poll Tax Collector scenario would probably go down a bomb. Suggestions for other celebrity names for the game, on the back of a postcard to reach us not later than 2 Feb.
Given The List’s reputation as the tent ol human wisdom perhaps we should not be surprised that two school kids wrote requesting ‘as much intormation as possible about music’. Now some iolk would have got crotchety at such an all-embracing request. Not so AliMabbo, our music editor, who didn’t quaver tor a moment and is even now endeavouring to distil the wisdom oi centuries onto the back at a Rizia paper. Kids these days eh? Ah dunno. All I ever wanted to know about music was how to mime to the Undertones and do a passable impersonation oi Jimmy Saviiie. Now then, guys and gals! (Do I get the job?)
Cor, look at the cultural values on that! In yet another artistic coup, Glasgow has secured the services of Bob Grant (off On The Buses infamy) in a production to eclipse even the La Scala operas: Hands Off My Crumpet opens at the Pavilion Theatre in April. ‘More sauce than HP' proclaims a handbill. presumably referring to the production rather than the City's Festivals' Unit. What next? Pavarotti serenading the Fat Slags from Viz?
And iinaliy Simon . . . and iinaliy Esther: ‘You used to be an alternative comedian didn‘tyou?’ Yes, he did, though these days he prelers the company oi the ‘team' lrom That's Lite. There, alongside long in the tooth Esther, he sits like a trendy youth worker trying to get on with the inmates ol an Eventide Retirement Home.
The ex-doyen oi Grauniad-reading- Fringe-goers is to appear at the Tron
' Theatre next month (2 & 3 Feb) where
he will no doubt regale the audience ith phallic-shaped veg and ditties from British Gas employees. on well, that‘s bloody lite for you.
The List 26 January — 8 February 19903