The Big Day had finally arrived. The best things in life are free (although I draw the line at Sheena Easton) and I limped along to George Square to beat the crowd; it turned out. however, that 10,000 revellers had had the same idea. . .
Suddenly the crowd began to sway and cheer. Lo! A vision appeared, wasit . . .could it really be . . . the Messiah? No, it was Billy Sloan.
Then at last, it happened, the end ofthe waiting. Slide got into the groove. The band were so jumping, ifthe venue had been anywhere near the Kingston Bridge, they would have brought the cladding down. After the Hothouse experience came the magnifico Kevin McDermott Orchestra — a taste of real culture; I don’t think I can last out until their next album.
Later, after much consultation with a friendly policeman, and being hounded by a smoking dragon. I found The Haugh. After Kith and Kin, a slight technical delay ensued while Goodbye Mr Mackenzie took an attack ofstage fright, which according to compere Gerard Kelly amounted to nothing more than bottom sickness (ie The Big D).
(Much later) Fireworks lit up the night sky. it was almost midnight. the display was much better than at New Year, when you could only hear the fireworks. not see them. Then the crowd began slowly to find their way out. then a micrOphoned voice piped up over the 125 ,(XXl-strong version of ‘Flower of Scotland’. Why. if it wasn’t little old Edie Reader singing ‘Mother Glasgow’. Wait a minute. wasn‘t it supposed to be Michael Marra? Isn’t it wonderful what plastic surgery can do for one‘s career?
Patricia McGovern St Vincent Terrace Glasgow.
So you enjoyed yourself. did you." You win the prize for the best letter this issue — Kevin McDermott. er (1 Jose Cuervo tequila T-shirt.
Re ‘And Gillespie Must Scorel’. Ross Parsons‘ preview of this year‘s World Cup soccer tournament (see last issue). It is more than well known that football matches are prone to bring out the base nature of individuals. but surely a magazine of your calibre (presumably. in part. aimed at non-Scots who visit Glasgow and Edinburgh as tourists) ought to be less eager to promote racist commentary. 1 quote Parsons— ‘lt is in our genes, this vision of Scots as the “Chosen People". who will one day inherit our birthright.
Pseudonymous scribbles, libellous logorrhoea, . disgraceful diatribes — we’re not proud, we’ll publish them. And we’ll publish your letters too. The best one next issue will win a Jose Cuervo tequila T-shirt. Letters, which may be edited for publication, should be sent to The List, Old Athenaeum Theatre, 179 Buchanan Street, Glasgow G1 2JZ, or 14 High Street, Edinburgh, EH1 1TE not later than Friday 22 June.
hopefully by gubbing the bastard English in the final.’
This is tantamount to incitement to racial violence and ifsuch pathetic jingoist platitudes are shrugged off as ‘in our genes’. and therefore excusable as a fact of life. then God help us all. A similar doctrine was abroad half a century ago and everyone knows where that led. It is bad news. even in jest. to give a platform to pronouncements which encourage ill feeling toward any sector of society. It is worse still when these statements are published on the eve of a global sporting event which already looks set to be marred. if not ruined. by sectarian. racist violence.
There is a place for sixth-form humour. as there is a place for Sun-type journalism: these are. respectively. the sixth-form classroom and The Sun newspaper. not. surely. The List. There is no place in this world for racism. and all its appalling implications.
Paul W. Hullah
Being on holiday in Italy atpresent. attending some cultural festi val or other, Mr Parsons is unable to reply directly. As he is. however. a journalist not a geneticist. it seems fair
to take his remark about 'our genes on a metaphorical. not a literal, level. His mock grandiose tone was meant to he humorous. not H itlerian. Similar/y. his phrase ‘gubbing the bastard English ', although perhaps too impolite for some tastes, is only a reference to a football match. not (It'll/l all de erence to George Orwell) an act ofinternatitmal warfare.
Class enemy While your Stone Roses article (see last issue) was typically informative. one aspect of it did annoy me - Tony Wilson‘s quote that the new Manchester scene is ‘the only movement created by the working class‘. Not being terribly interested in Ian Brown‘s relation to the means of production. I couldn't say whether Wilson is or is not correct to make that claim. What does annoy me is that he should regard the Manchester bands as in some way more virtuous or worthy of respect just because they are working class. Yes. I know. it was only one quotation. But other areas ofthe magazine do consistently betray the same attitude — particularly your theatre section. in which ‘middle class‘ is at times used as a synonym for ‘meaningless misery of a human
being’. Before you ask. no. I’m not a Tory. and no.1’m not one of those people who would like to pretend that class divisions don’t exist. It‘s just that. when deciding whether I want to go and see a band, play or film. the class origin of the musicians, writer or director doesn’t influence me one way or the other, as it is almost always an irrelevant consideration. Using ‘middle-class’ and ‘working-class’ as. respectively, a catch-all term of abuse and one of unthinking praise is neither sound sociology nor helpful journalism. Rob Nicholson
If the reviewer in question had actually been to see Roger and Me, she/he would know that Flint, Michigan has had enough trouble without being located halfway across the continent to Montana. Perhaps we’ve all seen Paris, Texas too many times and our geography skills have suffered. You wouldn‘t believe all the reviews I’ve read that describe Gregory ’3 Girl as ‘a charming film set in Glasgow, South Dakota.’
A psychopath writes
i Dear Readers, Thanks for the
flowers and baskets of fruit. I feel much better after my course of ECT in Room 10]. I‘d like to apologise to the good burghers of Glasgow for my cheap jibes at their cultural expense - the Big G is not a Belfast without the bombs or a Warsaw without the queues. At a few moments in history — Athens in the 5th century BC. Rome during the reign ofTiberius, Renaissance Florence. 18th century Paris — one city can epitomise the quintessence ofcivilisation. become the pinnacle ofhuman achievement. In the 2(lth century. Glasgow is that city.
I fear Euripides McKechnie's sceptical speculations (see last issue '5 letters page) re the authenticity of Grimshaw Wattle’s moniker. although extremely funny. will prove to be groundless. I wouldn‘t be surprised ifon this page there is a letter from the said Wattle. outraged at the suggestion that he is a fictional character. If there is. he deserves a T-shirt at least. ifnot ‘The Grimshaw Wattle Column‘.
Re Alistair Sheard's letter. . .Just watch it. son. I'll let you offthis time. because from the tone ofyour epistle I’d guess you‘re just a wee first-yearer at Glasgow Yooni.
I‘m dropping the middle initial ‘M’ from my name for legal reasons. and because it’s just a wee bit pretentious.
David Bennie BA (Hons) Haddington Place Edinburgh.
84The List 15 — 28June199ll
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