A Wholly Unbiased Recommendation

January 31, 2011

Perhaps, like me, you enjoy bicycles and reading things, although you refrain from attempting them simultaneously. And maybe you take particular joy striding through the electronically-activated doors of Condor, London’s top bicycle emporium, to peruse the vast collection of cycling-related reading materials on display. Or maybe you’re a bit pushed for time and you’d frankly much rather know where the hell all this is going, for goodness’ sake. Well wonder no more, impatient reader, because issue five of The Ride, the magazine everyone in our home refers to as “kind of like a cycling version of McSweeney’s“, has metaphorically hit the shelves, packed with articles by famous bicycle stars Graeme Obree, David Millar and Michael Barry, as well as great stuff by less well-known people. (I’m firmly in the latter category. Page 102, if you’re interested. It’s sort of about Richmond Park, but kind of isn’t. It’s accompanied by the above illustration, created by The Tree House Press, which you may want to click to experience its full loveliness.) If you’re really too overwhelmed with excitement to wait for your next visit to Gray’s Inn Road, you can purchase a copy here.

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Dynamightgiveitamiss No.3: The Incredible Resuscitating Horse Of Jared Leto, Actor

January 23, 2011

As cycling accidents go, this one is beyond shocking. A person of unquestionable horridness (i.e. he’s in a suit and owns a car) drives at speed through an abandoned city at night, yet manages to hit only one of the smug, attention-seeking hipsters who have taken over the roads – and it’s not even the chap on the 20ft bike, whose sheer elevation and lack of agility would probably make him statistically more likely to experience the full brunt of Evil Man’s Lexus.

Thankfully, though, The Incredible Resuscitating Horse Of Jared Leto, Actor, gallops to the rescue – which is just as well, because the felled rider’s pals are too busy feigning alienation to call an ambulance or provide basic first aid.

It’s hipster correctness gone mad. It really is.

Wiser minds than mine have no doubt cogitated over the symbolism that Jared Leto, Actor, has deployed in this pop video for his band 30 Seconds To Mars. For me, however, the hipsters’ scavenger aesthetic is reminiscent of Mad Max Beyond The Thunderdome, and the two-wheeled tattooed denizens are clearly the last remaining people left in a post-apocalyptic downtown LA. Or are they? Look at all those pretty lights in the landscape shots; the power has got to come from somewhere. And where are all the proper cyclists? If the streets were suddenly deserted, most of my friends would probably stage a crit or, in the case of my odder chums, a time trial. But not in the world of Jared Leto, Actor, it seems. Because the truth is that Jared Leto, Actor, wants to enslave competitive cyclists, lock them in a basement, Belleville Rendezvous-style, and have them churning out watts to provide the electricity required for the illumination of his midnight parade of twattishness.

The sad thing is, to judge by the smile on Nicole Cooke’s face as she powers the national grid (seen here on Alex Murray’s Chasing Wheels blog), most of them would probably enjoy it.

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The Dynamighty No.3: Darren Hayman

January 17, 2011

I loved the rush and clatter of Hefner and their confessional lo-fi sweetness, and more than 12 years later I’m still listening to what their former lead singer is doing. The sound has become more focused and folkier as the ideas have become more conceptual (Essex Arms, his latest album, is the second of a trilogy about the eponymous county, and he is currently writing a song a day for the wonderful January Songs project). But for me, the constant factor of his varied songbook, or at least the aspect I still find so affecting, is the breadth of remoteness: the rueful, loveless cowboy in his “ramshackle stable” (Hymn For The Alcohol), the fourth man on the Moon overwhelmed by the earth’s beauty (Alan Bean), the teenage bandmates “singing songs about boys that they hate/ Into some dented SM58s” (Amy And Rachel). Or maybe it’s not the remoteness exactly but the way it’s obviated, taking characters who are unknowable or unbelievable at the outset and making them as real as you or I by the end of each song. The anger, joy, or confusion you may have experienced at some point will also have been felt by another person, in another place. This is what great music can convey with immediacy, and this is the peculiar brilliance of Darren Hayman.

Here he is, doing what he does best: creating his own world from scratch…

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Dynamightgiveitamiss No.2: TV dramas. All of them.

January 12, 2011

It’s got bonnets. And class tensions. Or a detective and booze. Or a hospital or something. Or superheroes. Yeah, superheroes. Except they’re not called superheroes, because superheroes belong to an inferior cultural form. And this is high-quality, high-definition popular culture – shiny, glistening, remorselessly tasteful, the mass entertainment equivalent of a Moben kitchen. So they’re ordinary people with superhuman powers (i.e. superheroes). Or they’re zombies. Or vampires. Except they’re not really. They’re actually, y’know, when you get down to it, human beings. You just need a bit of light killing to provide relief between the heavy interpersonal relationship stuff. Because they’re ordinary people, yeah? I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve never known anyone quite like any of them, but they’re ordinary. Even the posh British ones with the costumes, or the one set in a 1960s New York ad agency. Because it’s fiction, but the kind that has parallels with our lives. The kind of parallels that can be pointed out on a late-night panel review, often with a serious face. You’ve just got to look past the bonnets. Do you see?

If you don’t, then come back next week. And the week after that. Just keep coming back. And if the dialogue seems opaque or coded, don’t worry: you’ll crack it soon, because it needs you to. A TV drama is the neediest form of fictional narrative. What a film can do in two-and-a-half hours, the televisual equivalent can demand up to 24. They’re inaction movies at best, or at worst, soap operas split into seasons. And look at it this way: if, as Nabokov once said, “great novels are above all great fairy tales” – that is to say, they take the world apart and reassemble it so we can experience its beauty, terror and unusualness anew – then the grandest TV dramas of recent years are like bad novels. Yes, they dismantle the world, and on the most ambitious scale possible, but when they put it back together, the logic falls apart. The plane crashed, and everyone survived, but they didn’t really, or maybe they did. The mass premonition was caused by something or other, but what does it matter? The show was cancelled anyway. Not that I watched it. But I can well imagine the frustration and disappointment of never reaching a proper conclusion and simply ending in mid

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The Dynamighty No.2: “Danny Baker, Monday to Friday for instance Thursday.”

January 10, 2011

In the realm of grand oddities, there is a small hamlet nestling in the green nowhereland inhabited by Lewis Carroll, Douglas Adams, the Bonzo Dog Do-Dah Band and Vic ‘n’ Bob, and it doesn’t take the form of a book, a play, a film or a TV series, but a radio phone-in show. It is a humble work of unalloyed joy which has been broadcasting from three ’til 5pm every weekday on BBC Radio London. It has its rules – because every tea party, no matter how giddy, must have rules. Proceedings always begin to the tune of The Candyman, and the host, avoiding the “self-regarding nonsense” of standard radio practice, never tells listeners they’re tuned in to Danny Baker (the pre-recorded faux-serious voice of Chris Morris, as quoted above, sometimes pops up in the middle of records to do the job for him). There are also central tenets of the Baker canon: the Jerry Herman show tune Mame contains the most awkwardly rushed line in recording history (“The whole plantation’s hummin’ since youbroughtDixiebacktoDixieland”), the instrument plinking out the theme to I Dream Of Genie shall forever remain a mystery, and the only hit song where everything starts all at once is, of course, Pulling Mussels (From The Shell) by Squeeze. You might get to hear Chicago’s 25 Or 6 To 4 or even Party In The USA by Miley Cyrus, or more typically Fountains Of Wayne, Erin Bode, Todd Rundgren, Dylan, The Beatles, or some obscure prog rock oddity. But the true genius of the show is the contributions Danny elicits from listeners, such as the exasperated doctor who commanded a Spanish patient to remove his trousers with the immortal words “Adios, pantaloons!”, the fella who turned on his desktop printer to prove its whirrs and beeps sound exactly like the intro to Are “Friends” Electric?, and the terrified young man who heard Fire and thought The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown was speaking to him directly with the line: “YOU’RE GONNA BURN!” (His name? Conor Byrne.)

Yeah, it’s just a radio show, but Danny Baker makes radio shows a bit like Woody Allen used to make films, pitching just above the audience’s heads, so the enjoyment comes from reaching towards his encyclopaedic level of pop cultural knowledge or witnessing others matching his inventive sense of whimsy. I love the way he can make me laugh out loud with a simple yet unusual turn of phrase, and I love the obvious warmth he has for his co-presenters Amy and Baylen. But he hasn’t been around for a few months, and it looks like he’ll be gone a while longer, so I hope he makes a full recovery. Broadcasting is a poorer place for his absence.

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Dynamightgiveitamiss No.1: A new ‘c’ word

January 4, 2011

“So where do you want to meet?”
“Well, you could come round to the Coffice.”
“The what?”
“The Coffice. It’s a coffee shop.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Well, it’s actually a branch of a coffee shop chain, but I take my laptop to do some work there, so I call it the Coffice.”
“Er, right. So Starbucks at 12, yes?”
“Sounds good. Twelve pm. In my Coffice.”
“In Starbucks, you mean.”
“I prefer to call it the Coffice. Because it’s like an office, but in a coffee shop. You mix the words together and make a new one. It’s creative. You see?”
“Well, yes, I understand the general concept of how portmanteau words come into being, and the English language is endlessly malleable, but there’s really no point in inventing a new term if the end result makes your meaning less precise. If you mean Starbucks, just say ‘Starbucks’. Or if you want to meet in Costa, just say ‘Costa’. ‘Coffice’ could mean anywhere. And it sounds ugly and joyless. Like ‘coffin’.”
“Hmph. That’s just the typical narrow-minded thinking of your average office drone. I’m a Coffice worker, pal. I can work anywhere – well, I say anywhere, but obviously it has to be somewhere with decent wifi access – and I make my own rules. There are millions of us. Just you wait until Chris Ward publishes his book about Coffice working. The guy’s made millions, and he’s mates with Fiona Phillips and Jamie Theakston, and he helped get Tony Blair elected or something.”
“Ah, I see. So you don’t think this guy is overstating the extent of this supposedly huge change in working practices chiefly as a means to sell books? And how would ordinary customers feel if – or when – the place they go to for a quiet coffee becomes a squat for pushy entrepreneurs?”
“Every revolution has its casualties, my friend.”
“About that meeting. On second thought, come round to mine for coffee. I’ve just bought a Nespresso, so we can probably get some work done in the kiffice.”

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The Dynamighty No.1: The Fiat 500

January 2, 2011

It’s not because “500” is engraved on the handle of the boot, or the way the speedometer’s needle on the outer circle scampers after the rev counter on the inner. It’s not because the white dashboard and steering wheel lifts my mood as soon as I get in. And it’s not because “RV”, the first two letters of his number plate, gave us a reason to christen him Harvey. It should be obvious why the Car of The Year (2008) deserves a place in my top five of the greatest things ever, because extensive scientific tests have already proved that when a Nissan Micra goes to sleep, it dreams of being a Fiat 500, and when a Fiat 500 dreams, it sometimes has nightmares of waking up as a Toyota iQ. But perhaps if you believe cars don’t have to be mean, or imposing, or cutely miniaturised, then in an idle moment, you too might dream of the cheery Cinquecento.

I have never particularly liked cars, but I love Fiat 500s. That’s because, by any conventional aesthetic terms, they aren’t cars at all. If cool can still mean alienated, then cars are unenviably cool: low and reptilian, or bulkily lumbering through increasingly encroached environments, they appear as if the outside world, with all its wonder and endless possibilities, has not had the slightest influence on their design. Then there’s the 500 and its wide-eyed, placid and quietly fearless face: it is the look of an expectant traveller awaiting the next journey and all its attendant experiences and sensations. In its spirit, it is the closest a car will ever come to a bicycle, which is why I love my 500.

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Begin. Again.

December 31, 2010

Firstly, thanks for popping by. Secondly, welcome to my weblog. And thirdly, to any members of a certain cycling club who are thinking, “Get on with it – you’ve already done this,” well, yes, you’re quite right, of course. But that welcome was tailor-made for my London Dynamo chums, whereas this is an off-the-peg, one-size-fits-all “how’s it going” to anyone else who may have stumbled across this bruised peach lodged at the bottom of the world wide wicker basket. So for them, or for you, if you fit the curious-but-slightly-irritated-by-all-this-expositional-guff strata of my readership, I proffer the following explanation.

I set up this blog primarily as an archive of DYNAMITE!, an email newsletter about London Dynamo which I wrote a few years ago. To stall the raising of eyebrows and stifle guffaws, I must point out that the name is unashamedly ironic: there is clearly nothing in the least bit explosive that can be said about predominantly thirtysomething men going round in circles every weekend. It was probably an awareness of bike racing’s concomitant absurdities that contributed to the popularity of DYNAMITE!, and for the few hundred people who enjoyed getting the newsletter every Friday throughout the season, my humble archive is for them. But if, perhaps, you are looking to join a cycling club based in west London, then there are 209 reasons why you should become part of Dynamo, and you can pick as many as you like from the “DYNAMITE! filed” category to your left. No one has more fun than us, and every issue comes with that as a money-back guarantee. (I realise you haven’t given me any cash, but rather than hand some over, it’s probably more expedient and cost-effective for you to just take my word for it.)

Hopefully, the next stage of this blog will be just as much fun. I have lots of opinions and thoughts, many of them not necessarily about cycling, which I increasingly find are not articulated elsewhere, so stick around if you want to be engaged, amused, or distracted, or if you simply want to see a twit fall flat on his bottom beneath an infinitesimal weight of expectation. Just don’t expect lots of guff about power outputs, aerobic thresholds or heart rates and we should get along just fine. My first 10 entries will alternate between five cultural phenomena of unimpeachable greatness (The Dynamighty) and five targets for rotten fruit (The Dynamightgiveitamiss), all viewed through the wholly subjective prism of my inexpert judgment. Then, and only then, will you and I truly know if we can form a lasting, prosperous relationship.

But if that’s ever going to happen, I suppose I should first give some indication of my identity. My name is Chris, I’m in my late thirties, and when I’m not spending time with my female romantical partner at our west London home, I can usually be found doing an enjoyable yet (I’m told) strangely unenviable job in the national media. I won’t say where I work, and you should take this omission purely as a belt-and-braces approach to the usual disclaimer that my views are my own, not my employer’s. I also have an association with a cycling publication, and although those guys don’t keep a roof over my head, I won’t be revealing who they are as my views do not belong to them either. Or maybe I might name them. Let’s just see how long I can keep this up, OK?

Well, that sort of clears everything up for now. Pop back in a couple of days and we’ll get started. Cheerio for now!

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A giant leap for Dynamankind

November 28, 2010

A Dynamassive welcome, Dynamates – and hello to nosy non-mos!

Here, awaiting the attention of your curious nature, irrepressible sense of fun and unquestionable good taste is the entire ruddy run of DYNAMITE!, unearthed from the famous soundproof bunker of Dynamo Towers and transmogrified into blog entries for each of its 209 reasonably distracting issues.

I tagged a few of them until I realised you can pretty much find everything you want by using the search box in the handy column on the left. Simply type in the name of a race or sportive, and Bob’s your proverbial. For names, use surnames only or just the Dynamoniker if you can actually remember it. The publication dates are two digits for day, month and year, separated by a point – so to search for, say, June 2008, type ‘.06.08’. The full stop before the month will make the search more accurate. (Important point: I have no idea what I’m talking about, but let’s just run with it and see what happens.)

Brickbats and tip-o-the-hats welcome. And finally, big thanks to the Dynamazing Alex Bastin, Jason Green and Martin Garrett for supplying the missing issues. Couldn’t have done it without you, fellas!

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London Dynamo Newsletter #1, 02.04.04

November 21, 2010

London Dynamo Newsletter #1, 02.04.04

WE’RE OFF!
The man in the official BCF jacket has graciously ushered us off the start line, and so we begin the inaugural edition of the London Dynamo Newsletter. Like a nervous cat 4 rider in his first race, the handling of this weekly organ is remarkably poor and tactically naïve – but with a gentle tailwind of goodwill from you, the kind reader, we’ll pass the chequered flag without the help of St John’s Ambulance. Here comes the first bend…

…AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT IF IT WASN’T FOR THAT PESKY KID!
Damn and blast! MARTIN WILLIAMSON missed his moment of glory when he let three riders escape at Barcombe on Sunday – which, at 90km of twisty road, was this week’s toughest race for London Dynamo. He correctly predicted that two of the trio would fall back – but he didn’t realise that the third rider was a certain Heathrow-based wonderkid who didn’t need any help to eventually win by a country mile. Martin, who later featured in a brief two-man break with Sigma’s Niall Digby before finishing third, notes ruefully: “If I knew it was Lewis Atkins, I would have chased.” But he refused to be down in the dumps over his thwarted chance to draft into second place or even clinch the top spot. “I had a great race,” he beams, “grinning all the way.” You’re not supposed to enjoy yourself, man – this is cycling! Hopefully TOM DAVIES, who finished 20th, provided a counterbalance to Martin’s unaccountable happiness by grumbling throughout the day.

THE THRUX OF THE MATTER
London Dynamo’s quiet man TOM HEMMANT came third at Thruxton’s cat 3 race on Saturday, giving him this week’s second biggest result for the club. Well done, sir! But despite contesting a bunch sprint to bag eight points, the humble rider was keen to shine the limelight on two other Dyna-mates, RICHARD DOLBY and CHRIS CHAPMAN, who came 6th and 9th respectively in the cat 4 event. Tom reveals: “Chris and Richard are both new members who have joined within the last two weeks and this was their first experience of road racing.” Step forward at the next Parkride, boys, and receive a hearty handshake from club secretary PAUL ‘CANNONBALL’ CALLINAN, which I’m sure you’ll agree is an ample reward for such a great effort.

QUAD A BUNCH OF IDIOTS
Meanwhile, the cat 4 race at Eastway was livened up by the unannounced arrival of two men riding a quad bike. The pair shot along the strait, dangerously close to the riders, before disappearing into the foliage – but not before CHRIS CAMPBELL exchanged ungentlemanly words with them at full volume. Hopefully, the women riders present covered their ears. Chris ended up a respectable 12th while his race mate ALEX BALFOUR came a none-too-shabby 14th. The 2/3/4 race saw RORY PARK put in a few training laps before graciously retiring while pocket rocket RUSSELL SHORT decided to spare his opponents an early season drubbing by declining to engage in the sprint. That’s right – leave ’em wanting more, Rusty!

WHAT DO POINTS MAKE?
Headaches, apparently. With so many great results flooding into Dynamo Towers, our club secretary Paul is finding it difficult to keep track of how many points each of you is accumulating. Nevertheless, he has kindly agreed to run a season-long points competition in association with London Dynamo Newsletter – which, obviously, will appear in future editions of this very publication. Extra marks will be awarded for crashes delivered with style and flair. Exactly how often the tally will appear in the Newsletter is undecided – but every week looks unlikely as its just too much work. But hey – if it turns out to be once a month, then it’s something that everyone will really look forward to, isn’t it?

IT’S ALL OVER!
We’re now back in the clubhouse tucking into the fruitcakes and fig newtons – and despite a cat 1 rider sneering at our lukewarm bottle of Lucozade Sport between swigs of his PSP22 bidon, it has to be said that this has been an enjoyable and valuable experience for everyone involved. As new Dynamo member GUY POWDRILL might say, it’s been a tough Newsletter, but a fair one. Don’t forget you can meet all, some or perhaps two of the stars mentioned in this missive at the second Dynamo social evening this Monday at A Bar 2 Far in The Griffin Centre, Market Place, Kingston, from 7.30pm onwards. Bike parking is available, apparently. And now, with the sun gingerly peeking out, coyly inviting eager cyclists all over London to come out and play, it only remains for us to remind you about…

THIS WEEK’S RIDES
SATURDAY
The Parkride, Roehampton Gate, 9am. Three to four laps of Richmond Park split into fast/intermediate/steady.

SUNDAY
Hampton Court bridge, 9am for Surrey Hills ride. 50ish miles at a steady pace. Bring a pump, inner tubes, drink and a watch set to British Summer Time. (Rusty and Paul!)

WEDNESDAY
Richmond Gate, Richmond Park, 7:30pm. Steady two hour ride to Surrey and back.

AND REMEMBER…
London Dynamo Newsletter would be nothing without you, the noble reader. So remember to keep those results and reports coming in. Deadline is Wednesday morning for Friday’s mailout. news@londondynamo.co.uk.

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