Saturday 2nd August 2025
Blog Page 566

The Unscheduled Life of a History Student

Sofia Henderson
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The Unscheduled Life of a History Student

I round the corner. The door is in sight. I make awkward eye contact with the person coming the other way down the path and it takes approximately three tries for me to get through the barrier with my Bod card. It’s another day in my life as a History student: I’m in the Rad Cam.

Taking yourself on a study date to the library every single day is a staple in the life of a historian at Oxford. In fact, it might be the only staple. I’m a second year and this term I have two contact hours. One lecture, one tute. And they’re on the same day. It may seem like a dream, but the lack of contact hours we get as History students can make our degrees more difficult.

I can lay in until 10:30 if I want to, but starting the day off with literally nothing to do except read for the same essay you’ll be doing every day for the entire week is both daunting and demoralising.

Oxford is always intense, and balanced with hours upon hours of time spent by yourself reading books at a limited revolving selection of study spaces, the term is over before you know it and all you can remember from it is all the time you spent staring at the same pages over and over, hoping the words would just enter your brain.

Having this little contact time takes a toll on your mental health. Many students are already anxiety-ridden; this makes being left entirely to your own devices for eight weeks particularly difficult. There’s a reason why History students are often found panic-writing their essay after having an entire week to do it, and it’s not because we’re lazy.

It becomes easier than ever to isolate yourself. Your non-historian friends are out for most of the day getting the most out of the £9,250 a year they spend on their degree. Your day isn’t neatly arranged; there’s nothing to fit your lunch or snack breaks around and there’s nobody to encourage you to keep reading a little longer.

I knew before I came to Oxford that I’d be doing an essay or maybe two a week, and that, as History is more of an independent degree, most of my time would be spent reading. Still, I thought I’d have things to go to. Nobody tells you that you’ll only get one hour of academic interaction a week.

Of course, the tutorial system is unparalleled. In Trinity, I was lucky enough to be given one and a half hour long tutes, one-to-one. It was amazing to be able to focus so much on my individual work and I got so much out of such a personalised and focused approach. History, though, is about discussion, and I missed out on interacting with my peers in an academic setting.

History at Oxford is great because of just how much choice there is available to you from the beginning. An individualised approach can be greatly beneficial, especially when studying for more in-depth ‘optional’ or ‘further’ subject papers. Still, there must be a way to balance this.

Perhaps the History Faculty is struggling, but there is no doubt that Oxford has enough money to be able to provide their students with more contact time. We do already help fund STEM. Only recently has studying world history become a course requirement, and undergraduates still have to study one British history paper in first year and another in second year.

In comparison to other top universities, the selection is dismal. Sometimes, even European history papers fail to venture further than France. I love History and becoming a historian is constantly rewarding and fulfilling. However, I can’t help thinking History as an undergraduate degree has become an afterthought.

It may be what Oxford historians have done for centuries, but I can’t help but feel I could be doing a lot more academically with my time than spending hours freezing in the Rad Cam.

Novelty Music is Real Music

Megan Whitlock
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Novelty Music is Real Music

To call the summer of 2018 memorable would probably be an understatement: there was the heatwave, the subsequent hours spent in beer gardens, and, perhaps most significantly, the World Cup. For a couple of weeks, to venture out and not hear some rendition of ‘Three Lions’ was a rarity. The whole country appeared to have briefly suspended all anxieties about Brexit and climate change to group together and sing “football’s coming home.” It didn’t matter about your background (or even if you cared about football that much…), if ‘Three Lions’ cropped up on a night out, chances were that you were singing along. So, what is it about unconventional ‘novelty’ music that creates such a community spirit?

For chart-targeted music to be successful, it must resonate with a mass audience. It must be both palatable and marketable to consumers without losing any of its illusions of ‘raw’ and ‘real’ authenticity. The pressure to create a catchy song that encompasses all these qualities is exacerbated further by the motivations of the music industry. It may be cynical, but there is an undeniable expectation that big artists signed by big labels must make big money. The result is that much chart music runs the risk of losing its originality in its quest to follow the money-making formula. A generic love song is more likely to appeal to a wider audience than a song, for example, about being a “working man from Lancashire” and wanting a chippy tea.

The latter is, of course, the focus of popular Lancashire band The Lancashire Hotpots’ leading hit, ‘Chippy Tea.’ Sing the lyrics to anyone in Oxford and be braced to receive a few blank stares, yet in the Northern county the song graces festivals and football matches alike. So, what do ‘Three Lions’ and ‘Chippy Tea’ have in common? My guess would be less people’s predisposition to write these songs off as ‘novelty’ music, and more to do with the way they make us feel when we sing them.

The initial reaction when people discuss ‘novelty’ music is often, as Dickie from the Hotpots explained when I got in touch about this topic, to think of the negative connotations – “mention novelty music and you can already see people curling their noses.” There is an assumption that it is inherently less serious than chart songs and valued less than music we more commonly associate with ‘art.’ Yet, by definition, ‘novelty’ is not restricted to comedic connotations. Specifically, it is defined as something ‘new, original and unusual,’ all qualities that are perceived as valuable by wider society. If the music is new, original and unusual, then it also must be affecting listeners in new, original and unusual ways. There are hundreds upon thousands of famous love songs in the world, but only one that proudly describes the definition of a Lancashire ‘barmcake’; the Hotpots’ creation is both unique and clearly targeted at a more specific audience. Consequently, the effect of such local novelty music replicates the summer 2018 feeling of singing along to ‘Three Lions’ with a bunch of strangers in a pub (albeit on a much smaller scale). It creates a respite from generic chart hits and an original sense of identity for those who resonate with the song, allowing these people who understand to unite together, have a laugh and sing along.

The Lancashire Hotpots can be described as more of a folk band than anything, “documenting the lives and stories of people in a specific locale”. Though their songs have a comedic undertone to them, they are cleverly pieced together in such a way that provides those in-the-know with a specific local identity. It is this local identity and that songs trying to reach a wider consumer market just cannot manage to give. However, in times where people are experiencing increasing anxiety about the state of the world and political divisions threaten to isolate us, simple things such as having a communal identity to relate to and the ability to have a laugh have become increasingly important. We are a nation of storytellers, and telling the stories of real people in real places in a way people can understand – similar, as Dickie pointed out, to grime artists telling stories about life in the inner cities – is infinitely valuable in developing our personal culture and uniting our communities.

Whilst nobody is ever going to argue that the likes of ‘Three Lions’ and ‘Chippy Tea’ are in the same class as the masterpieces of Mozart or ballads of Beyoncé, this certainly isn’t because they are less valuable. Instead, they are incomparable; their value comes from them serving an entirely different purpose and, if the summer of 2018 is anything to go by, serving that purpose well. As for Lancashire lads and lasses, local bands such as The Lancashire Hotpots represent a piece of home and lift your spirits no matter where you are listening from. It may be sentimental, but nothing can quite top that.

Review: Kanye West – ‘Jesus is King’

Guy Brabbins
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Review: Kanye West – ‘Jesus is King’

It’s that time of the year again when Kanye West, armed with another batch of outrageous quotes (“God is using me to show off”) and the usual hubristic boasts (“I am unquestionably, undoubtedly, the greatest human artist of all time”), makes his inevitable return to the public eye. His ninth studio album, ‘Jesus is King,’ may plough a more restrained ground than the ‘bleached assholes’ and ‘black balls’ of prior releases, but he nevertheless remains the proverbial bull in the china shop that is celebrity culture; the problem is, he’s already broken everything there is to break, and so now is just left awkwardly galloping around, trying to keep all eyes on him, but ultimately failing, as we customers gradually begin to leave, bored, uninterested and tired. Oh, and the bull now makes really boring music, too. The ‘Yeezy season’ formula of spouting the ridiculous and doing the ‘unexpected’ has grown abysmally tedious, and the inclusion of Jesus doesn’t change this.

Now in all honesty, I’d rather not talk too much about the artist, focusing instead on his offering, but with Kanye, the two are so intimately yoked together, by his own design, that this is a nigh-on impossible feat. With that said, let’s boil down Kanye’s recent endeavours to this; he’s rediscovered Christ and missed a bunch of album release dates. Now it is not at all my intention to question Kanye’s faith, but after a turbulent 2018, which involved manic support for Donald Trump, claims that ‘slavery was a choice,’ and a very strange Twitter-published entry into philosophy, a Christian redemption arc was certainly not a bad move towards saving his public persona. At this point though, I find myself rather indifferent to Kanye. Despite his formidable ability to become, seemingly at will, the most famous person on the planet at any given time, it is quite telling that the most relevant thing he’s done during these last couple of years was piggybacking Lil Pump’s hype on the track ‘I Love It,’ created for the inaugural Pornhub Awards. Sad as it may be, Kanye’s powers are waning, and this may help explain his 2019. He has always been obsessed with and attracted to powerful people, be it Bill Gates, Walt Disney or Donald Trump, and whether intentional or not, one can’t help but see this reignited passion for Jesus to be a further example of this egomaniac aligning himself with power.

Last year, he could be forgiven for his tired antics, since he produced and released some excellent music – Pusha T’s ‘Daytona’ and his collaboration with Kid Cudi, ‘Kids See Ghosts’ saw him back near the peak of his powers. The same cannot be said for ‘Jesus is King.’ Although my excitement had been significantly dampened over the preceding weeks by the numerous missed release dates, I was nevertheless eager, on the eve of the Friday 25th October as I settled down in a window seat on the 853 bus back home to the Cotswolds, cosy and warm in spite of the angry wind and keen rain, to slip on my headphones and relish in the joys of a new Kanye album. It was not to be. Within ten minutes, I was fast asleep, head bobbing against the window as Kanye’s words strolled unnoticed through my unconscious mind. Now I concede that it had been a long week and that I was exhausted, but you can be damn sure that had I played ‘My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy’ or ‘The College Dropout,’ (or pretty much any other Kanye album), I’d have been subtly grooving on that bus all the way back to Cheltenham. The bitter truth is simple; ‘Jesus is King’ is a highly forgettable project.

It begins with some very by-the-numbers gospel music, that, if not particularly interesting, does at least succeed as a reasonably captivating intro to the album. From second track, ‘Selah,’ it becomes evident that although ‘Jesus is King’ may appear to be, and in many ways is, an album in reverence of Christ, it is nevertheless also an album in reverence of Kanye. From implying that he is guaranteed a place in Heaven (“I ain’t gotta peak over [the gates]”) to comparing his recent criticism to the story of Noah (“Before the flood, people judge. They did the same thing to Noah”) and finally to the admittedly very funny mispronunciation of the KJV translation of John 8:33, “Ye should be made free” to sound like his own nickname, there should be no doubt that Christianity serves as a fitting veil for Kanye’s evergreen ego. This is a shame. Oddly, one of his most endearing character traits used to be this ferocious self-confidence, but when it’s being thus disguised, it no longer carries the same impact. Musically the track is laden with interesting ideas, including a momentous organ intro, primal drums reminiscent of ‘Yeezus,’ and a spirited outro of chopped up shouts and whoops, but nothing comes together in a cohesive way; it is simply one rather cool idea after another and this is no guarantee of a good song. The terrible mixing of Kanye’s vocals certainly doesn’t help.

The third track ‘Follow God’ is by far (really very far) the best song on the album. It sees Kanye return to his signature production style, chopping up old samples to create a steady, easy-going rhythm that is extremely pleasant on the ears. It has an obvious impact on Kanye too, who is clearly more comfortable rapping on this sort of beat. His flow, so often jilted and awkward on this album, is here natural and smooth. It is no secret that Kanye’s ability as an emcee has been on a gradual decline, so it is always pleasing to see him come through with a verse of legitimate talent. Beyond this, though, it is hard to find a single other verse – be it rapped or sung – that is worth a listen; though difficult to believe now, there was a time when it was just as hard to find a verse of his that wasn’t worth a listen. The lyrical content on the track, though hardly exceptional, is also the pick of the bunch here. It sees Kanye arguing with his dad about what it is to be ‘Christ-like.’ Now there’s nothing resembling conclusion, nor are any points of genuine interest made, but it does at least show that Kanye is considering Christianity beyond the utterly superficial. The rest of the album, though, where religion is concerned, resembles nothing more than a billboard on a Louisiana highway advertising the local Christian community.

The amount of times Kanye says anything pertaining to Christianity of real profundity can be counted on one hand. What we do get is standard doctrine (“Follow Jesus, listen and obey”), corny jokes (“When I thought the Book of Job was a job”), and empty confessions, (“The Devil had my soul, I can’t lie”), all of which I could get from going to church, but with myriad times more interpretation, humour and depth. I’ve heard countless sermons more exciting than what Kanye offers here, which is hugely disappointing, especially given his knack for genuinely affecting self-evaluation in past releases (see ‘All Falls Down’ or ‘Can’t Tell Me Nothing’). Totally absent is any inquiry into Kanye’s rediscovered faith, or anything that would genuinely work towards persuading others to convert (a goal for which he himself has said he is striving).

Unfortunately, the odd musical flourish cannot save ‘Jesus is King’ from becoming a disgustingly long 27 minutes. Even the aforementioned ‘Follow God’ is directionless, and this half-baked approach is even more present throughout the rest of the album. ‘Closed on Sunday’ quickly engages the listener with a very dramatic opening of creeping acoustic guitars and moody choral hums, but devolves just as rapidly into farce with the aggressively stupid refrain, “Closed on Sunday, you’re my Chick-fil-A.” How are we supposed to take Kanye seriously? ‘On God’ comes next, decked out in an annoying synth line and laboured singing. To think something so dull could end up on a Kanye West album would have been unfathomable just half a decade ago. And it is this dullness that wins the day in the end. ‘Everything We Need’ ambles along without leaving so much as a dent of intrigue. ‘Water’ rivals its namesake more in blandness than in purity, and even Kanye sounds a bit worn out with the whole Jesus thing in his central refrain. ‘God Is’ proves to be a decent little ballad, ruined completely by Kanye’s rather awful singing – and this is coming from someone who is usually a big fan of his sung verses.

Were it not for Kanye’s moans about how he’s not been readily accepted into the Christian community, ‘Hands On’ would be equally forgettable. Intent on being a victim, he begrudges “What have you been hearin’ from the Christians? They’ll be the first ones to judge me.” But did Kanye seriously expect to be welcomed into the community with open arms after previously proclaiming himself a god on the track “I am a god (feat. God)” and spending years spitting in the face of the vast majority of the Ten Commandments? Even if we forget about everything in the past (since Christianity is, after all, founded on forgiveness), he is still radically hypocritical in his practice. While being absurdly dogmatic, to the point of hilarity in some respects (banning everyone working on his album from having pre-marital sex and keeping a daily scorecard for whenever he curses), he is still the antithesis of humility in a religion that preaches being low and humble. Similarly, he has spent the last few weeks boasting about his $68 million tax refunds, rejoicing in his ignorance of Jesus’ statement in Matthew 19:24 that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. It is such contradictions that Kanye would typically revel in exploring through his music, and would make for fascinating content, but now they just serve to remove credibility from the man.

An excellent Clipse feature and Kenny G saxophone solo in ‘Use This Gospel’ prevent the record from crashing and burning, but one can’t help but feel the former has been sold short in their grand reunion, while the latter has just been tacked on the end of the song, because why not? Clipse especially deserve better than this; Pusha T has consistently been Kanye’s best featured artist ever since his show-stealing appearances on ‘My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy,’ while No Malice delivers the best verse of the album here, displaying his internal conflict of being a man of God, while also having brought such great damage to people’s lives through his past actions.

The final song ends abruptly, in one last awkward stab to finish off this long-suffering album. Kanye has managed to pull off the remarkable in making an unreservedly soulless gospel record. Considering the theme, it’s very cold and almost heartless, lacking any semblance of emotional pay-off. Lethargic and spineless, it eventually drags itself to completion. I do still have faith in Kanye West – if there’s one person you can never count out, it is he – but I can’t help but feel bitterly let down by this. His rampant egoism no longer holds much weight as Kanye here takes another kick at his own legacy. Jesus may be king, but Kanye is distinctly average. 1.5/5

Boyfriend vs. Genghis Khan

William McCathie
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Boyfriend vs. Genghis Khan

Back in February of this year, Ariana Grande seemed on top of the world, or at least the music industry. With the release of an album carrying two back-to-back Billboard number one singles that were followed by another that reached number two, it seemed as if no other star in the music industry could possibly shine brighter. A critical as well as commercial success, Thank U, Next managed to significantly evolve her musical style towards more hip-hop influenced production, all less than a year after the release of Sweetener. And yet Grande hasn’t been able to touch those heights since. The two singles after the album, both collaborations, went nowhere, the third, ‘boyfriend’, barely cracked the Billboard Hot 100, and the mess that was ‘Don’t Call Me Angel’ was rightly panned and shunned from the top 10. For an artist who seemed so utterly dominant, these have been very poor commercial responses.

So, what happened? The answer, I think, can best be seen in her most successful post-Thank U, Next song, ‘boyfriend’.  Listening to the song I was immediately reminded of another song, not of Grande’s but of the trio Miike Snow, more specifically their 2015 single ‘Genghis Khan’. Like ‘boyfriend’, the song deals with a speaker whose jealousy makes them want to stop a lover from seeing other people, despite their relationship still being non-committal. I will admit that perhaps my love of ‘Genghis Khan’ has led me to draw a link where others would see only wisps, but I still think we can learn a great deal about the underperformance of ‘boyfriend’ by comparison of which song does what better, if only as part of a transparent exercise to get you to add ‘Genghis Khan’ to your music library.

Certainly, on the visual style of things, ‘Genghis Khan’ has ‘boyfriend’ beat. That’s not to say ‘boyfriend’ has poor quality in its music video and cover art – in fact, the over-the-top ‘imagination’ sequences to show off the jealousy of both partners is quite entertaining and original, but it is all pulled off in the same old Hannah Lux Davis-style tongue-in-cheek shiny and somewhat silly production. It’s the same colour palette we were treated to with Thank U, Next’s videos, the same abundance of slow motion, the whole thing ends up appearing quickly prepared, and treats us to only a single location for the whole video that serves little purpose other than looking mildly interesting. Grande’ style evolved into Thank U, Next, but now appears to stagnate. Genghis Khan, on the other hand, gives us a brilliant homage to classic bond films, complete with massive laser, armies of henchmen and an extremely well-matched visual aesthetic. The video is so good, in fact, I would urge you to watch it purely on its own merits, even if you are not sold on the song.

The modern music industry may be dominated by visual style, but it certainly isn’t everything – and on the topic of the music itself ‘Genghis Khan’ has a few more things to offer as exemplary practices. In terms of vocal skill, Wyatt is nowhere near Grande, which becomes painfully obvious when watching any of Miike Snow’s live performances. Despite this, he manages to inject significant energy and feeling into ‘Genghis Khan’, which are two elements sadly lacking from ‘boyfriend’. Grande sounds a little too comfortable, a little too bored, and Social House add very little from their feature. Defenders of ‘boyfriend’ may have some recourse in the lyrical domain, however. Whilst the line “I get a little bit Genghis Khan” may be interesting and catching, the metaphor is tenuous at best and downright confusing at worst, and I must admit seems a little like shoehorning in order to give the song a more memorable hook line and title. Grande’s song may be repetitive, but uses its lyrics well to fit in with the mood and vibe of the song, and conjures up some fairly decent imagery at times. It may be a little vague to enable listeners to easily slot themselves into the narrative of the song, but such an accusation can easily be levelled at both songs as much as each other. On the production side of things, the drums roll ‘Genghis Khan’ forward with infectious energy, and though the tuned elements may be limited to a piano and bass, the whole production fits together rather excellently. ‘boyfriend’ seems to more subscribe to a modern trend of ‘chill’ music, but admittedly does this rather well. The production elements are altogether not a departure from Thank U, Next in any way, but are nicely refined and provide for a satisfying experience, especially in the chorus.

I think it inevitable that Grande will return to the top 10 of the Billboard charts. She may not have had her usual level of success from her post-Thank U, Next singles, but the album is not even a year old, and she remains an enormous presence in the industry, backed up by extremely competent producers and writers. So, whilst her most recent efforts may not have been par with her best work, at least you can enjoy the top-notch production of ‘Genghis Khan’, which may be four years old, but likely new to many. After all, it may have one to two exemplary elements to be learnt from.

Philip Glass Ensemble – satisfying constancy

Clare Tierney and Ben Beese
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Philip Glass Ensemble – satisfying constancy

Clare:

On the 30th October, Philip Glass and the Philip Glass Ensemble performed Music with Changing Parts. Due to illness, Glass himself was unable to perform. Instead Ensemble member, conductor and director Michael Riesman took the helm. Never having heard Philip Glass other than via Spotify, I am not able to comment on any negative impact his absence may have had. Reassuringly however, Music with Changing Parts – one of Glass’ earliest works which premiered in 1970 – had all the trademarks of his music. I consider myself incredibly privileged to have been there – and all the more so because I had tried to get tickets at the general release and not succeeded. (Oh, those sweet, sweet press seats.)

Music with Changing Parts underwent a rejuvenating makeover in 2018 with the addition of brass and voices. The voices on this occasion were those of the Tiffin Chorus whose buoyant youth kept up with 90 minutes of tireless keyboard (five keyboards to be precise). Their cyclical melodies, syncopated among themselves, were subject to minor changes throughout the course of each movement. I found myself swaddled, encircled, in the mesmeric repetition of harpsichord and organ-esque keyboard, multi-layered sound enriched further by the haunting flute, resounding bass of the trombone and the occasional staccato, almost kazoo-like, of the trumpet and saxophone.

The choir, so seamlessly a part of the whole, despite being such a recent addition to the 49-year-old work, embellished the contributions of all sections at different points during the performance. For several bars at a time, the harmonies would meld with the spritely flute, before switching to reinforce the Baroque-influenced keyboard parts.

Conductor Valérie Sainte-Agathe was dressed as if for a Halloween ball in ruffles of black, floor-length gauze and as my ears were enraptured, so were my eyes by her intricate gesticulations that successfully kept the polyphonic chaos in an oxymoronic state of calm. Sensorially immersive, with barely a moment for audience members and musicians alike to pause for breathe, the Barbican became a perfectly contained microcosm for the duration of the performance. I felt my brain adjust to the consistencies in the keyboard so well that I was able block them out in order to tune in to the eponymous ‘changes’ that led the work’s evolution over that hour and a half.

Structurally and rhythmically challenge, Glass’ music did not fail to enchant and surprise; the climax at the end of Music with Changing Parts just as deliciously refreshing as the opening bars.

This 2018 re-rendering is, in Glass’ eyes, “a richer version of the music and a more satisfying completion of the original idea”. The engulfing polyphony of voices, woodwind, keys and brass was, indeed, richly satisfying to experience live.

Ben:

On Wednesday, 30 October, Philip Glass’s Music with Changing Parts returned to the UK for the first time in 48 years. London’s Barbican Hall hosted the Philip Glass ensemble and the Tiffin School Choirs to perform this new rendition of Glass’s 1970 piece. The hall was packed for the transcendental 90 minute performance which even Glass once judged “a little too spacey for my tastes.” Due to sudden illness, Glass himself was not present, replaced by Michael Riesman, director of the Phillip Glass Ensemble.

Music with Changing Parts is largely seen as a transitional piece for Glass. It was first performed in New York in November 1970 on the heels of his 1969 pieces Music in Similar Motion, Music in Fifths, and Music in Contrary Motion. While rehearsing Music in Similar Motion, Glass discovered long overtones that seemed to stem naturally from the performance. He explored this more intentionally with Music in Changing Parts by creating extended drones in the wind, brass, and choral parts. Changing Parts prompted Glass to write even more extended pieces, including operas such as his famous 1975 opera Einstein on the Beach.

Music in Changing Parts was performed across the United States and Europe in the 70’s and 80’s, including a performance attended by David Bowie and Brian Eno which later led to a series of Bowie-Glass collaborations. In the proceeding decades, the Philip Glass Ensemble focused their performances on his other works until recently when Glass heard several younger ensembles revisit Music with Changing Parts. “I was so impressed,” he says, “that I went back to the work myself.”

The revised work, with enlarged brass and vocal ensembles, premiered in 2018 at Carnegie Hall in New York and David Hall in San Francisco. Last week’s Barbican performance was attended by a full house. The piece itself, as with much of Glass’s work, defies normal concert expectations. The uninterrupted hour and a half performance starts with a steady pulse echoed and elaborated across the several keyboards. Gradually the other parts fade in: a saxophone gently wails, a flute blends in. With Glass, texture, not melody, is the key. The ensemble performs more like a single, multi-faceted instrument rather than a coordinated body of musicians. Each part is nearly inseparable from the woven whole. Periodically, cued by the raised hands of conductor Valérie Saint-Agathe, the ensemble would suddenly drop away from the constant keyboarders’ rhythm and a new texture would develop again.

The titular changes were not always so clear. Contrary to the piece’s title, the overwhelming sense of Changing Parts was its constancy which veiled a slow, imperceptible development. It took nearly an hour to notice the gradually increasing pace of the underlying beat. Parts flowed into each other river-like so that the harmony was continuously, yet passively, engaging. The exception to this rule was the occasional shout of either the children’s choir or the brass. These outburst seemed to serve as mile markers against the stream of decadent consonance that was the rest of the piece. Changing Parts is unusually improvisational for Glass but the musicians are specifically discouraged from ‘soloing’ improvised melodies.

At its core, Changing Parts is natural. One could describe the piece in the words of French writer Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr: plus ça change, plus c’est le même chose. Changes, whether we see them happen or only notice in hindsight, are the one constant in life. Glass’s piece reflects this succinctly.

Review: Stranger, Baby

Verity Stuart
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Review: Stranger, Baby

‘I wanted to put my body into these words’ 

Emily Berry’s 2017 Stranger, Baby, is one of the most adored contemporary poetry collections to emerge in recent years. There is thus something quite remarkable in Maya Little’s restaging of the collection as a play, a devoted love letter to Emily Berry’s meditations on loss, mourning, and the sea. 

Stranger, Baby, opens with the line ‘I stood at the dangerous shore’, and it is from the very first word that Little’s adaptation complicates the original text. Three actors stand on stage, another yet to enter. Exactly who represents this poetic ‘I’, is dissected throughout the adaptation, questioning how we stage the poet’s voice alongside alternate influences. In Berry’s poetry, these influences include her mother, Sigmund Freud, as well as disparate versions of the self, but no actor clearly represents one singular voice. What was one voice becomes four, with the language of the collection brutally dislocated and lines being torn away from actors who rarely get to finish words without interruption. 

While the acting and use of lighting are impressive throughout the show, it is sometimes the use of objects on stage that cannily articulates Berry’s collection most movingly. The mirror, for example, is one of the craftiest props of the show. Even though the poetic voice has already been strained through the presence of four actors on stage, we see each character doubled through the mirror. Not only that but the audience can see their own reflections staring back at them as if they are included in this image of the self. After months of rehearsal, the mirror is blemished with fingerprints, highlighted by harsh stage lights, but it serves a metaphorical purpose, too: ‘Never look at yourself in the mirror when you’re crying / I did not follow her advice.’ We can see how many times the poetic voice has failed her mother’s instruction. What we see in the mirror is the reflection of how many impossible selves it takes to grieve. 

Another notable object onstage is the wooden boat. The text of Stranger, Baby is distinguished for its continual references to water, with Berry’s poems drenched with tears and brimmed with memories of mermaids, tidal-waves, and rivers. One of the most affecting moments of the performance is when Abigail Casson, potentially the stand-out member of an admirable ensemble, is doused with a cup of water, but while the characters repeatedly speak of the sea, we see such a small presence of water on stage. A boat without water figures as a coffin and a bed, but never really as a boat. Little finds new ways of reading absence and presence into Stranger, Baby, and such clever staging is striking.

For audience members who are unfamiliar with the poetry collection, the play potentially dangers on being too abstract, too conceptual, too niche. Yet for someone who has read Stranger, Baby, or someone who has been touched by the story of grief, this adaptation is a poignant revision of a modern classic. It might even encourage an audience unfamiliar with Berry to pick up her work. The text is no less rich and eerie when performed on stage, as the dramatic adaptation of Stranger, Baby is a veneration of the gorgeous polyphony of Berry’s poetics, and a most heartfelt invitation to pick up more poetry. 

Review: Spring Awakening

Chloe Jacobs
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Review: Spring Awakening

Having had the chance to see the dress rehearsal of Spring Awakening at the Oxford Playhouse ahead of the crowds I’m sure will be descending to see this ambitious, moving, and pitch-perfect production. 

I was immediately struck by the set design. Emily Stevenhagen’s garish neon stained-glass window was a constant in the flexible space, immediately and concisely introducing the conflicts between organised religion, civilised society, and rebellious youth about to unfold. The moving staircases and thin metal balcony also worked very well and all the complex set transitions were handled excellently by the ensemble. I only wish that the set’s least creative moments, when two white walls connected to simulate Wendla’s living room, had been given the same thought as their most innovative and affecting, when orderly lines of ensemble in school uniform march across the stage and drop bouquets of flowers to simulate a graveyard. 

As the cast entered in boxer shorts and silk slips, they stand in pairs and dress each other, a touching and subtle show of the intimacy that will be denied them throughout the musical. The initial dialogue was a little rushed and garbled, but the cast soon settled into the show and the stage, which made it clear it was likely just dress-rehearsal nerves. From the first song, I was sold. The acting was strong, but the musical talent of this cast is worth attending for on its own. 

Hannah Andrusier’s, delicate voice as Wendla was a delight to listen to, perfectly evoking the innocence of her character, though occasionally its subtleties were disappointingly no match for the volume of the orchestra behind her. Melchior, played by Henry Waddon, was full of roguish, rebellious energy and easy charm. The chemistry of these two actors was undeniably one of the most compelling parts of this production, and they slowly unfolded their love affair with all of the tenderness and electricity of repressed teenagers. It was only occasionally that this beautiful give-and-take slipped, with one seemingly forgetting to react to a passionate kiss because of the pressure of remembering a choreographed pull-away, but this was only disappointing because of the earnest tenderness of what had come before. I commend these actors and their director, Issy Paul, for building this genuine, growing intimacy into the centre of the musical. It made all the difference.

Special note must be taken of Gavin Fleming and Ella Tournes who played, with incredible fluidity, every adult figure in the musical. The sheer number of costume changes alone must have been a task, but almost every adult represented on stage was a distinctive presence with a clearly defined voice. I only wish some of their characters, like Wendla’s mother whose disapproval is so key to the plot, had been a little less frantic and more three-dimensional. They were particularly enjoyable as the schoolmaster and mistress, though, and the voices they adopted for these characters were utterly perfect. Joe Winter as Moritz also deserves recognition for capturing the awkward charm of Melchior’s struggling best friend, and Martha’s duet with Ilse, performed by Ruby Nicholson and Maddy Page, was beautifully sung and very moving. Some characters, however, like Ernst (Tom Foster) and Hanschen (Emilio Campa) were well acted but fleeting and limited in depth, leaving the audience with the distinct sense that they had missed something.

The music was frequently the star of the show, occasionally to the detriment of the singers who provided less volume or enunciation, and occasionally highlighting that the musicality was more fully realised than the drama. If I did not know the plot already, I may have struggled to keep up with some of the more exposition-heavy songs and plot beats overwhelmed by music. Having the orchestra constantly visible to the audience and even occasionally brought out onto the stage made the production dynamic and undeniably musical, though. The lively group numbers particularly punctuated the divide between the characters’ orderly public personas and their internal desires and frustrations expressed through song. 

This is not a perfect production, but it is a great one. Every aspect is ambitious, from the lighting, to the staging, to the musical arrangements and the emotional performances. The cast and crew have clearly pushed themselves to the creative limit and it has certainly paid off – this production is vibrant, exciting, a bit messy and unfinished (as adolescence tends to be), and very touching. I highly recommend you see it while you have the chance. 

Review: Things I Know to be True

Francesca Butt
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Review: Things I Know to be True

Andrew Bovell’s play concerning the vicissitudes of quitting a conventional home for the outside world leaves both its characters and audience with a shaky view of home-life. One thing’s for sure: watching Things I Know to be True at the Michael Pilch Studio is one and a half hours well-spent.  

A telephone upon a side-table and two plastic troughs filled with fake flowers provide the opening scene for a play feared to be another cosy, domestic set-up writ large on stage. However, despite the naturalistic, homeliness of arguments over new-fangled coffee machines conducted at a table laid with biscuits and hot beverages, this play, paradoxically, captures the impermanence of a stable conception of home. 

Bob and Fran’s family-of-six is introduced as a close-knit, if squabbling, community gathered for the early return of their youngest from Europe. However, the wooden chair, placed roughly centre-stage, becomes a place of monologic revelation for the four children: Rosie, Pip, Mark/Mia, and Ben; from my seat left-of-stage I watched as familiar moments of family-life, such as the coveting of the youngest, or the taunting of a young girl’s vanity, were rendered sinister in light of individual confessions. 

The consistency of Harry Berry’s characterisation of Bob was genius. His stuttering, gaping jaw, unexplained stage-exits, outbursts, and awkward embraces conveyed shock and dread, just as well as they gave the impression of a retired father struggling with modern existence in some of the most humorous moments of the play. I didn’t believe Bob could look any more devastated by the disintegration of his black-and-white picture of life, until his face was firmly pressed into the freshly-strewn soil of his upturned roses mid-stage.

Indeed, all characters adopted mannerisms and tics which impressed: William Ridd Foxton perfectly captured the jittery toe-tapping of telling one’s parents what you think they never want to hear in the character of Mark. Bailey Finchie’s striding across stage as Ben with freshly washed shirts in tow and the assertion that he ‘Must go, really can’t stay’, only to be tempted by the prospect of lasagne in tupperware, was a stand-out, comic moment. Elise Busset’s portrayal of falling in and out of love as Rosie, the whimsical teen, was faultless, if slightly marred by the use of physical theatre in a lift to represent her swooning. Finally, Imogen Honey Strachen as Pip sung delightfully and produced, what I felt to be, the most modern and uncontrived character of the piece. 

Maya Jasinska had a hard role to master as Fran, the formidable mother of the clan. Just as Ibsen struggled to invoke empathy for the wayward mother of Nora in A Doll’s House because of her lack of affection for her children, Fran’s overwhelming bitterness detracted somewhat from the true relatability of her story as a model mother who feels tired and trapped by expectation. Yet, her abrupt attacks in response to her children’s confidences seemed more a matter of scripting, rather than an acting choice. However, I would have liked to have seen more evidence of tenderness, in smiling moments spent with Rosie, filter into her relationship with other characters, to justify the fond response of her children at the end. Nevertheless, this was a moving performance by an actress capable of shedding true tears on stage, as was remarked by another audience member. 

Tears were also shed in the audience as the cast donned black for the funereal conclusion. This close-quarters experience of a treasured-home turned suffocating-chamber is well worth a watch this week!

Keble reverses ball accommodation decision following student pressure

Jeevan Ravindran
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Keble reverses ball accommodation decision following student pressure

 Keble College has reversed its decision to refuse students onsite accommodation during the commemoration ball on June 27, 2020. The move comes after students put substantial pressure on the organisational committee to secure rooms in college, citing access and welfare concerns which would particularly affect low-income students.

In an email to college members, ball executive Sam Edwards said 200 rooms would be initially made available on November 7, but that this was “the maximum number which can be confirmed at this stage,” as the college is yet to finalise academic requirements for students staying on for work in 9th week. 

Third-year student Hannah Al-Qaryooti, who was instrumental in proposing the motion and highlighting the accessibility concerns involved, said, “I am extremely happy that Keble have reversed their decision. It shows that they have listened to student concerns about accessibility.” 

Initial concerns revolved around the cost of rooms outside college, the cheapest of which was priced at £50 – thus making it difficult for low-income students to attend. As the majority of the accommodation was located at Oxford Brookes, students also expressed worry that drunk students might be forced to walk to the site alone in a vulnerable state. 

Rooms in college were originally priced at £43, but the ball committee has decided to subsidise the cost, reducing the price to £33. They will be allocated on a first-come-first-serve basis, although full bursary students will have their rooms automatically reserved.

The college has also committed to offering heavily subsidised tickets to Moritz-Heyman scholars, meaning that they will be able to attend the ball at a cost of £50, which Al-Qaryooti lauded as an “extraordinary commitment to accessibility from Keble and should be followed by other ball committees.”

Social Backgrounds Rep Adam Ferguson told Cherwell: “It is very encouraging to see that Keble is both aware of, and open to our suggestions as to how best support low-income students. Given a short amount of time and a tight schedule, the college acted remarkably quickly and have introduced an element of accessibility to the ball which will hopefully remain indefinitely into the future.”

Despite the success of student action, Al-Qaryooti expressed she was “disappointed that it took such pressure from the student body to actually make accessibility provisions and that such concerns from the student part of the committee were ignored when these decisions were initially made.” 

She added that future balls outside term time should include an access officer, due to fears that “with such a quick turnover of students, it can be quite difficult to create long-lasting change, as when students leave, the accountability does so with them and instead we go back to square one with the new cohort.”

The organisational committee is split into a student section and a college working party, the latter of which was initially responsible for the decision to refuse onsite accommodation to students “for various logistical and safety reasons,” according to Edwin Peel, the chair of the working party. 

24 hours of rowing at University College Boat Club in aid of Mind

Alice Evans
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24 hours of rowing at University College Boat Club in aid of Mind

Rowers from University College Boat Club will be rowing continuously for 24 hours to raise money for Oxfordshire Mind at the college on 16-17 November.

The rowers will power two rowing machines overnight to raise money for the charity, and part of the rowing marathon will take place on the college quad and will be open to the public.

Supporters will be able to cheer the club on in the quad from 11am- 5pm on the 16th and 9am-11am on November 17. The overnight section will be held in the college gym.

Kathryn Pickup from Oxfordshire Mind said: “We know that physical activity can make significant improvements to people’s mental health, so it’s great that the UCBC have chosen to raise awareness of this, as well as making mental wellbeing a priority for their own club. At Oxfordshire Mind, we firmly believe that everyone who experiences mental health difficulties should have somewhere to turn to for advice and support. By supporting us in this way, UCBC will ensure that we can continue to make that happen.”

The club chose to support Ox- fordshire Mind because it runs local workshops and provides support for those suffering with mental health conditions which are especially prevalent in young people. The event is also supporting the Rowing Together for Healthy Minds initiative, which was set up in specifically to raise awareness about mental health in the rowing community. Aiming to raise £2,000 forthe charity, the college has set up a JustGiving page.

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