Reflecting on sunglasses and bad pop

click photo to enlarge

Every decade or so I try on a pair of sunglasses. Then I take them off and wonder why I tried them on in the first place. The fact is I don't like to see the world dimmed by dark lenses, but after ten years or so has elapsed I forget this. It seems to me that sunglasses are subtractive: the dimming of what the eye sees takes away something of the beauty of the world. I'm aware that not everyone sees it that way, but it's my view.

I've written about sunglasses before when I posted a blog image of the only other photograph that I've taken of sunglasses. On that occasion I wondered about the reason for people wearing them in a semi-permanent way regardless of whether or not the sun is shining, and speculated that it might be an exterior manifestation of an interior insecurity. But, time moves on and so do my thoughts, and when I looked at my most recent image of sunglasses I thought only of Bono. Perhaps the recent protests at the Glastonbury Festival seeking to shame him over his tax affairs have pushed him to the forefront of my mind. It must be that because it isn't his music.

Sometimes, when I've discussed popular music with friends the conversation has turned to the worst examples of the genre. A person of my age might well cite the likes of Pat Boone, Englebert Humperdink, the Brotherhood of Man, Whitney Houston or Bryan Adams. In fact there is a virtually endless list of bad pop songs and an almost equally long list of "very modest" performers. Yet, when this subject has arisen I always turn to the successful triumvirate (in terms of sales) that, to my mind, has had the most baleful influence on popular music and produced some of the most dire songs  - Abba, Queen and U2. Being favourably inclined to bombast is a useful attribute if you are to enjoy the music of U2 (and Queen for that matter) and that's something I'm not. And, if the music and lyrics didn't put me off then the politicing certainly would. If I managed to take all of that then it's surely those wretched perma-shades that would finally tip me over the edge!

Today's photograph was taken on a group visit to a couple of NGS "open gardens". It was one of those "wall-to-wall sun" days when the tabloid newspaper headlines are "Phew, what a scorcher!", or some such, and several pairs of sunglasses were in evidence. Those in the photograph were tucked down the neck of the polo shirt of one of our party, and I caught them as they reflected another member of our group.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO:160
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

He's Claes Oldenberg in reverse

click photo to enlarge
Many who came of age in the 1960s tend to look back on the popular music of that decade as something of a highpoint in the genre. I certainly do, though I'd cite the years between 1963 and 1971 as the best. The music of that time seemed to be constantly evolving, absorbing old ideas and giving them a new twist, as well as bringing original sounds, lyrics, melodies and instrumentation to the table. The Beatles, Bob Dylan, Fairport Convention, the Velvet Underground, the Kinks, and the Grateful Dead typify the creativity that was laid before us year after year. However, what we sometimes forget is that for every Roy Harper there was an Englebert Humperdink, for every Leonard Cohen, a Jack Jones. There were definitely troughs as well as peaks.

Then there were those artists and bands who had something to offer, but never quite enough. I 'd include the Searchers in that category. They were capable of great harmonies and 12 string guitar figures that influenced bands like The Byrds, but in their drive to be successful went too far towards commercial, anodyne pop of the "Sweets for My Sweet" sort. This tendency also afflicted The Hollies. Their harmonies were terrific - no wonder Stephen Stills and David Crosby wanted Graham Nash - but they featured in songs that were often second-rate. Successful the Hollies undoubtedly were, but they didn't, in my judgement, produce songs that have stood the test of time.

A few weeks ago I was in Springfield Festival Gardens, Spalding, looking at the pieces of sculpture set amongst the shrubs, trees and flowers, when I came upon the piece by Stephen Newby called "Cascading Water Pyramid". This features a stack of stainless steel "pillows", the largest at the bottom, gradually reducing in size to the smallest at the top. Water falls down the shiny surfaces of these metal shapes that look, for all the world, like they have been inflated. Nearby is a water-wheel with similar "inflated" pillows. As I looked at the incongruity of a steel pillow a thought about their creator crystallized in my mind that borrows from that dire Hollies' attempt at psychedelia, "King Midas in Reverse": he's Claes Oldenberg in reverse, because he makes solid that which is soft, whereas Oldenberg made soft that which was solid! And with that I took my photograph of a corner of the stack of "pillows", water dripping from them, and tried to make something of the line of corners going down the frame.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 27mm (54mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On