Guitar prodigy JUSSJEF, interviewed by James Cox

Guitar prodigy JUSSJEF, interviewed by James Cox

YouTube celebrities are a modern phenomenon, allowing potential artists to reach an audience on their own terms, with just hard work and a camcorder.
Of course, this ease of self publication has left social networking sites saturated with wannabe superstars, each with the necessary self belief, but often lacking the all important “talent” factor.
Some, however, break through the mist of mediocrity with pure, glimmering star quality. They can be identified by their astronomic hit rate and five star endorsements.
A little while ago I stumbled across JussJef, a.k.a. the singing guitar.
Jef is a 23 year old guitarist from L.A. with a precocious talent and a rapidly growing fan base pushing him toward inevitable stardom.
He creates instrumental renditions of RnB, soul, and hip hop classics from artists as varied and prestigious as Etta James, Beyoncé and Kanye West.
His technical ability is shrouded in undeniable soul and feeling, and every video that emerges on his self styled site jussjeff.com is laden with the unpolished potential of a future star.
From his medley tributes to Michael Jackson, his immaculate rendition of Next’s “Too Close” and his musical tour through the works of Kanye West, his ability to showcase his capacity as a guitarist without dampening the heart of the music is both thrilling and impressive.
After months of admiring his work, I managed to catch up, for an exclusive interview, with the man who is making the guitar sing, to ask about his plans and dreams in light of his blossoming popularity.


How would you describe your "sound"? Who are your major influences?

It's hard to say what my sound is like. A lot of music (not just limited to guitarists) have had an influence on my playing. I did follow certain guitarists like Clapton, Hendrix, Santana, George Benson, Prince, Wes Montgomery, Slash, and Brian Setzer. Lately, I've been influenced by gospel/session guitarist like Charlie Bereal, Paul Jackson Jr, Jubu Smith, Tim Stewart, Jairus Mozee, and Eric Walls.
My guitar playing had a lot of influence by Motown, Michael Jackson, Hall and Oates, Chicago, Earth Wind and Fire and a lot of pop music. One thing I try to do with my guitar playing is be "musical" in the sense that I am playing music that pleases the ear and not necessarily is a display of technical ability. That's why I play in a finger style when I cover songs on guitar because I want to recreate that feeling people get when they hear the original song. So I play the vocals along with the backing rhythm and bass so when I play, you know exactly what I am playing without me having to sing out the words. I sing the song through my guitar.


How long have you been playing the guitar? When did it become more than a hobby for you?

Roughly on and off for about 12 years. I played in a jazz band a bit in middle school and early in high school, but I never learned how to read notes. When I got to college, I decided to play some talent shows, and I placed a few times then I just started winning all of them. I then decided to post a video in the summer of '08 just to see how many views I would get. It shot up quickly so I started doing more and more videos and that's how it all started.


So you could say you’ve found your calling?

Absolutely. Whether it be doing solo work or working and composing for other artists, as long as I am able to play guitar and make a good living doing it, I am on board.

What can you tell me about your instruments? (Are you subject to brand loyalty? What made you choose the instruments you have now?

Initially, I really didn't have a preference. As long as it had 6 strings and it stayed in tune, I was good to go. I didn't even know about Martin acoustic guitars until I was surprised on my 22nd birthday by family and friends who used a group gifting site called eDivvy.com to pitch in and get me a new acoustic. So far, Martin is probably my favourite acoustic and it does help that one of my idols (Clapton) uses it too. As far as Electric guitars go, I favour Fender Stratocasters. They are comfortable, versatile in sound, and they look sleek -- Hendrix, Clapton, SRV used them for a reason. However, my preference would probably change though if another guitar company decided to sponsor me.

Are you a fan of effects units, or more natural sounds? Do you work on the particular "sound" of a song as well as the physical melody? I.e., try different effects, instruments?

I wasn't too crazy with effects growing up. I used like two effects (Morley Wah peddle and a generic distortion peddle). Once I started getting serious about playing, I started researching different effects like flangers, chorus, and delay peddles. I found this one boss pedal that had both a delay and a loop function. Now I use it more for looping than anything. Aside from that, I try not to get too distracted with effects or sounds and concentrate on the actual playing. When I cover a song, I do try recreate almost the exact melody and beat throughout the song. To me, that's more important than using effects.


Where have you performed? What are your favourite and least favourite venues? Do you have any upcoming shows?

I did a few local talent shows near my college (California State University, Los Angeles -- CSULA) and I played at a few Gospel gigs. Aside from the Diddy "Making his Band" TV show, the biggest thing I have probably done was the Pan-African Graduation at my college in '08. I had to play "Lift Every Voice" on acoustic guitar in front of 2,000 people at the Pasadena Civic Center. I play a lot at local restaurants and bars in Southern California, like Cozy's in Sherman Oaks or Up n Smoke BBQ in Fontana.


How do you start formulating new tracks? Do you hear something you like then sit obsessively for a week until its right?

It depends. I could initially figure out the basic melody and chords of a song within minutes depending on how many changes there are in the song. The more time I give to listening and playing a song, the more I pick up and improve on it. For example, when I posted my cover of Lil Wayne's "Lollipop" back in '08, I had just learned that song two days prior to recording it. It sounded good despite some flaws but if I was to cover it today, I would kill that version.



Do you ever play any original music, or do any writing?

Yeah. I've composed some original stuff and did some original work in studio for some people. I don't know how to read notes and I never took music theory but I've covered so many songs and listened to so many different types of music that I got an idea on how to put certain chords together to construct a song.


What's your ultimate direction for your act? Are you seeking fame and fortune?

I would like to continue doing acoustic renditions and originals but I also am interested in playing with bands and session work. If fame and fortune comes? Cool. If not, that's ok too. As long as I am making a great living doing something I enjoy doing and I happen to be good at, that is success in my book.


What advice do you have for budding musicians?

Stay grounded and stay hungry. Always have the desire to learn and improve. You can't get any better at your craft if you already think you mastered it.


What are your interests outside of music?

I love boxing. That is a sport that evokes almost as much emotion as music. Anything can happen in boxing. If a basketball game has one team ahead of another team by 30 points with 5 seconds remaining, it's a wrap. In boxing, one fighter could have gotten his ass whooped from pillar to post the whole fight and be down on the scorecards and score the KO punch at the very last second of the final round to flip a likely defeat into a dramatic victory. No other sport gets me pumped up like boxing.


How can fans-to-be gain access to your music? Do you have a website with sample songs or a demo CD?

Aside from my website which has the mp3 of the Kanye West Medley, I haven't made any in studio recordings. I am in the process of making an album with covers and some originals. I am just working on the legal issues involved with covering and selling other artists songs.


Any plans to come to the UK or do any travelling?

Hopefully my guitar playing will allow me to travel the world. I would love to visit the UK.


Is there anyone you'd like to acknowledge for offering financial or emotional support?

My cousin, Camille Alcasid, and especially my 3 older sisters, Erika, Reena, and Jill. They all played a role in the development of who I am as a person.

Any last words?

I just want to thank everyone who has been supportive of the work I've done with my guitar.



Become a fan at Jussjef.com
Exclusive interview By James Cox

Where The Wild Things Are. A review by James Cox

Where The wild Things Are. A review by James Cox.



It has taken five years for Being John Malkovich director, Spike Jonze, to pitch, film and package a feature adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s classic children’s book Where the Wild Things Are.
The book itself evokes murmurs of excitement from a non-specific generation of fans, enthused by the instantly iconic illustrations of mystical beasts encountered by precocious child run away, Max, on a fantastical island.
Film land has been awash with rumours of troubled sets and back room disharmony. Release dates have been chalked and erased, leaving a grubby trail of expectancy in their wake.
Now finally, it’s here, rendered in a beautiful marriage of art direction, CGI and quaint puppetry, painstakingly angled towards fleshing out Sendak’s diminuitive, yet poignant read.
The film starts in chaotic fashion, with young Max tearing down the stairs, in his iconic wolf costume.
Instantly the world of Sendak’s Wild Things, jagged illustration and pastel shades, clashes with an unmistakeable dose of Jonze guerilla realism.
Here is Max, a boy searching for his place in a life riddled with petty disappointments and pragmatic compromises. He is creative and lively, seeking the attention craved by a minor, and as his hard earned igloo fort is destroyed in a boisterous snowball fight with older kids, his big sister refusing to comfort him, and his mother selfish enough to couple her maternal affections with a need for an adult social life, we realise which world this films inhabits. It is one seen through the fractured rationale of a lonely child trying to understand grown-ups.
Shouldering the newly acquired knowledge that the sun is dying out – an unsubtle aside from a science teacher – Max lashes out at his mother, dons the wolf costume and disappears into the night.
Alone, and unrestrained, his imagination offers him a boat, which Max uses to navigate through turbulent waters to the rocky shores of a mystery island.
Max approaches the shaggy inhabitants as he does adults, back in the real world – at first with caution and fear, and then with wreckless abandon, running toward them in a breathless sprawl, legs buckling beneath him.
From here on in the island becomes a plotless mess, which is precisely the point. It skates on the dream logic and fleeting sense of an over excited child. Max and the Wild Things hatch grand plans without agenda, games are made up on the spot, but swelling in the background like an orchestral drone is the old adage: What starts off as fun and laughter, often ends in tears.
The Wild Things seem to embody Max’s disparate emotions: a breathless need for fun and chaos, a confused temper and a scared goat, lost in a world of clumsy giants.
It is within this motley dynamic that the James Gandolfini voiced, Carol, emerges as a dominant, and dangerous companion for Max’s quest for identity. Carol searches for harmony among his friends; vying for unity among the Wild Things, as Max vies for unity within himself.
On the island we see through Max’s eyes, and as a result understand as little about this world as Max does the real one.
The dialogue is surreal and disconnected, and brings to mind Samuel Beckett’s Theatre of The Absurd, as evoked in his classic stage play “Waiting For Godot”. Like Godot, characters are fluid and rather more unimportant than the message they carry. The relationships between the Wild Things are nothing more than decoration to a Jungian parable about the turbulent inner mind of a kid.
As the messy narrative unfolds, it is driven by tone, rather than plot, and the sinister air of the final third will both confuse and unsettle younger viewers as the action switches between Max’s wonderment and horror towards tempestuous nature of the Wild Things
Like a David Lynch directors cut of Sesame Street, Where the Wild Things Are never bows to expectation. To put it crudely, the wildest beast on that island is the storm in Max’s head.
And what a beautiful storm it is too.
Jonze and cinematographer Lance Acord create a naturalistic and patchwork children’s adventure, dispelling the thick key-lined, primary coloured Disneyfication of childhood nostalgia. It is naturally lit, with hazy sunsets and jagged shadows. The beasts themselves, forged by the Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, and layered with CGI expressions, are a spectacle themselves, as they run and jump and laugh and roar.
Max’s muddied wolf costume is evidence enough of the painstaking appreciation for the source material, right down to the wizened whiskers protruding from the hood.
Of the few human performances, Max Records (playing Max) is outstanding both in his precociousness and his naivety and Catherine Keener marries her dual role as doting matriarch and authoritarian with aplomb. This is aided by the economical handling of the ‘real world’ sequences in both the intro and the coda. So much is conveyed in such little time and never failing to be visually impressive.
James Gandolfini gives a subtle, but hearty vocal performance, layering Carol with a childish ethos and turning on the Soprano rage in terrifying flashes of the darker side of the Wild Things.
The visuals will be enough to impress any viewer, although younger audiences will sense the bleakness long before the end credits.
It is a successful exercise in fleshing out the confused psyche and creative mind of a child, and manages to convey the intrinsic fear and irrational train of consciousness driving their seemingly chaotic actions. With all this considered, I was also surprised to find a few genuine laughs and a comedic savvy about the film.
Also successful are the quiet and tender moments, as Max dictates a story to a dewy eyed Keener, as he lays under her desk admiring his mothers feet with the observant wonder only a child can muster.
Whether this piece of cinematic art will be a crowd pleaser, is a big question. It plays out to no particular audience, abandoning any intention of being child friendly and, often, asking too much of a sceptical adult audience who must be willing to leave any desire for coherent narrative, driven dialogue or any discernible plot, outside the movie theatre.
This is a visceral experience, but one laden with ideas and pathos.
If you want to work for it, there’s an unpolished gem of a film in store for you, every bit as beautiful as the early trailers hinted at, with enough ideas to write a three page review (see above).
But it is, perhaps, wise not to expect the frivolous , giddy, banana-boat ride you may have hoped for, but instead embrace a visually stunning think-piece, celebrating the dying embers of innocence in the creative mind of a child.

Art House cinemas - embracing the REAL film fanatic. AN interview with the manageress of Southampton's revered Harbour Lights cinema. By James Cox

Harbour Lights is a quaint, art house cinema. A little known neighbour to the hugely successful and hugely mainstream cinema giants that are Odeon and UGC. Yet somehow it survives, attracting a regular as clockwork, cult clientèle and was awarded the ultimate accolade of Best Loved Independent Cinema by Empire readers in 2000.
Its appeal is instantly understandable on entry to the discreetly placed, but elaborately designed glass structure that house Harbour Lights’ two state-of-the-art screens (each with Dolby SR sound) which show best independent, foreign and low budget movies that are ignored by their profit hungry mainstream rivals.
There is a relaxed atmosphere inside. A bar, more at home in a back street jazz club, where audiences can procrastinate over the freshly witnessed slice of Indie cinema with a bourbon in one hand and a cigarette in the other. This is a movie lovers cinema.
I booked a date with Harbour lights manager Louise Scutts to discuss independent films, how they cope with the mainstream pressure and her disdain for Odeon.

The first thing that is blatantly obvious on meeting Louise, is how different her demeanour is to that of your average Odeon employee.
Instead of the robotic, scripted greeting and attempts at up-sizing your popcorn to the Mega Bucket option, we meet someone who’s bubbly, chaotic and as film crazy as the cinema expects its audience to be. She philosophises over the state of the British film industry and the corporate degradation of the movie market in between chain smoking menthol cigarettes and sipping un-sugared coffee. It is the end of her shift, but it would appear she is as happy staying late to talk to us about her true passion than she would be anywhere else.



What are you trying to achieve in relation to the big cinemas such as UGC and Odeon?
The general vibe of the building, to provide a completely different service from the one they supply . To attract a different clientèle through the different films we show.

What attributes do the movies have to have to be chosen?
We never have anything hugely mainstream - like, say, Spiderman or Hulk. We do touch on the upper end of mainstream. “Bridget Jones” for example has a huge book following and we showed “Lord of the Rings” for the same reason. Plus, we need those occasional big movies to provide a bit of income. The majority of our films are independent, foreign or cult.

Is there a specific audience associated with Harbour Lights?
Its actually more diverse than mainstream cinemas. We’re always accused of being elitist but they’re probably more elitist than we are, aiming their whole publicity campaign at eighteen to twenty-five year olds, where as our members stretch from extremely young up to extremely old. Yes, the majority tend to be over forty but we also have a huge student following…
(Indeed, Harbour Lights is greatly aided by the fact it resides in the vicinity of a college and two universities and even works in conjunction with Southampton Institute to screen young filmmakers work)…
It depends a lot on the film. Things like Ladies in Lavender are a hit with the old dear because its: (sporadic ’old dear’ impression) “such a lovely film, we love Judy Dench.” We also have a big foreign clientèle because of our output of Spanish and French movies.

You occasionally do nostalgic theme nights, what’s the idea behind these?
At the moment we’ve got an American Mavericks theme so we’ve got “Memento” for example. it’s a theme decided by a lecturer from a film course we work in close proximity to. But we also get a lot of the public attending because they’d like to see that film on a bug screen again, or maybe never got a chance the first time around.

Biggest successes?
Well, we had “Raiders of the Lost Ark” four years ago and we were completely sold out. Dads dragged their kids along saying “you’ve got to see this movie at the cinema” and its that kind of movie that people have fond memories of seeing and want to share that with their family or whatever.
You get really daft themes, three Halloweens ago there was a huge mainstream horror movie out that we couldn’t compete with so we thought “lets go really stupid” and we actually played “Carry On Screaming” and two-hundred people turned up to watch it! Mainstream cinemas rarely return to old prints. We’re planning a musical theme now - “Sound of Music” that kind of thing.

Have you ever done any film festivals?
We did one a few years ago called the Popcorn Apocalypse where we showed films like The Terminator and The Predator. Last January we did all three “Lord of the Rings” movies. Twelve hours of Peter Jackson mastery! We’re looking to do that again on the back of the “Return of the King” S.E. Possibly going to do another one next Spring.

What are your views on the state of British cinema?
It could be an awful lot better. There’s a lot of talented people not being given chances and it was maimed badly by FilmFour going down. It’s been a huge, huge blow. It’s a shame because Britain is still renowned for having the best technicians. How many U.S. films are made at Pinewood? The government grants are pitiful! The subject matter are tired, tried and tested. Judy Dench and Maggie Smith, how can they go wrong? Their either very gentile period dramas or gangster movies with nothing outside those two genres.

Do you think that British people support British film?
Only if the film is good, and not necessarily because it is British. Its not really a patriotism thing. We certainly don’t go out of our way to play British films just because they’re home grown. If it is a good film then of course we get them in. We didn’t show “Sex Lives of the Potato Men” mainly because it’s crap!

How does Harbour Lights support local filmmakers?
We’re very tied in with the Institute and students from the film studies course show their final, big piece here on the big screen so they can bring their parents and their grannies and say “look, that’s me on screen at a proper cinema”. We also work closely with Screen South: young filmmakers and were picked as a awards ceremony venue recently where they showed the winning films. We also run regular Saturday morning Young Filmmakers slots where if you have a film in a format we can show - which is pretty much anything - you can watch it here!

That’s a great confidence boost for a young director, how much does it cost?
It’s free! We screen the film for them but encourage them to bring loads of mates and buy loads of beer. It works really well and we’ve got some very professional work - highlighting the fact that there’s a lot of very talented guys and girls who could work well with better equipment and bigger budgets.

Do you think that Indie and mainstream movies are moving closer and the lines becoming blurred and harder to define what is what?
“Donnie Darko” was made three and a half years ago and only got aired at film festivals. The audience response was massive but they did not know how to market it. It was only from pure pressure it got picked up, now look at it!
The best films are the ones that split an audience down the middle. What totally springs to mind is “Lost in Translation” which was cleverly marketed as a quirky, Bill Murray film, but it’s not that formulaic.
A tiny British film, they never expected to do any business, was “Touching the Void”. We had eighty, ninety, one hundred people in seats for that every night! Then it beat “Love Actually” in the BAFTAs and we were slaughtered that weekend! Sold out every night. Then the multiplexes came in smelling profits. Too many people follow critics opinions. Film like every art form is very subjective. I tell my staff to not lie when they’re asked their opinion, even if they didn’t like it. Sky have a ridiculous policy where they won’t review a subtitled film. The stupidity of it was highlighted when “Crouching Tiger” came out and stole the box office and they didn’t breathe a goddamn word about it!

Do you think your cinema will survive against the competition?
Yes! We will because they thought video and DVD would be the death of cinema, but that was absolute pants! Cinema is going from strength to strength. When multiplexes opened they said it was the death of Independent cinema because you can get all the films in one building. Rhubarb! They don’t do that at all, they just put the same film on billions of screens. Case in point. One cinema has thirteen screens and when “Attack of the Clones” came out they played in eleven of the thirteen! That’s not choice, that’s money making! They don’t fulfilled the promise they mooted to. There will always be room for cinemas with the ball to do things differently. We have eighteen sites across England now. We’re more intimate and we give the customer a sense of ownership and belonging. We don not have that ‘shovel them in, shovel them out mentality unlike multiplexes. They only ever have turnaround in mind. We are a corporation that tries really hard not to be. There is a flash of individuality in each of our cinemas.

Do you ever feel like the last man at the Alamo, refusing to dumb down?
Yes! Ha-ha! We are the last Bastions of tasteful film! We will save you!


The passion has taken her over and I eventually have to force Ms Scutts to stop, ensuring her we have more than enough information.
The bottom line is, this is a cinema that loves cinema, and the staff, from barmen and ticket rippers to the manageress sat in front of me, are all fine examples of that.
It’s exactly this mentality and reluctance to conform that means cinemas such as Harbour Lights will be around for a long time, providing film lovers with a refreshing break from the neon world of the mainstream. And not a Mega-Bucket-Meal deal in sight.


Harbour Lights is situated at Ocean Village, Southampton.
For bookings and more information please phone 023 8033 5533

Dr David Kelly WAS murdered, according to countries leading doctors

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1233330/Dr-David-Kelly-Six-doctors-demand-inquest-death-weapons-expert-prove-murdered.html?ITO=1490&referrer=yahoo

Ricky Gervais "Science" - A review

Ricky Gervais' latest stand up owes little to it's title "Science", very little.
By his own admission, any link to the moniker is tenuous, and only the Frankenstein insignia and gloriously elaborate set design makes any more than a nod to it.
If you were to guess at a title, you would probably pip for "religion" or "controversy" as Gervais navigates through subject matter such as Noah's Ark, censorship and Britain's Got Talent, his observations barbed and gasp inspiring.
He sets the tone, emerging on a Segway, a pre-cursor to another main talking point, his comically inflated ego.
"There's a recession on. Apparently. Someone told me".
And, how his ego would have swelled as the packed audience at Sheffield's Irwin Mitchell Oval Hall lapped up his show with rapturous laughter and adoration.
Ever the showman, Gervais shoe horns in a Ken Dodd impression, a joke of such controversial tone I couldn't possibly repeat, and anecdotes that will delight his fans, and undoubtedly cause unrest among the more sensitive observer.
Well into the tour run, the material seems fresh and as funny to him as the moment he conceived it.
Now a fully fledged icon, it is difficult to judge the humour on it's own merits. As he appeared above me in my meticulous, Row A seats, I am instantly impressed by his presence and the show is over and wrapped before you can truly absorb the spectacle.
Side achingly funny are his sections regarding quotations: "I have nothing to declare but my genius" will resonate with anyone who has seen it, as will his trawl through a a Sunday School text book.
Most impressive, however, are the moments when Ricky threatens us with seriousness. His impassioned lecture on censorship and the unapologetic nature of comedy are inspired, and bang on the money. His usual atheist rants are becoming tightly scripted and impressively convincing. Of course, all of these heady sections are punctured by humour, and you're never far away from a belly laugh.
Of the shows few let downs, the structure is perhaps the most glaring. So charismatic and archetypal is Gervais, that an evening bathing in his anecdotes and trademark cackle are a joy, but I wonder how this sense of "event" will transfer to the small screen, with the inevitable DVD release.
Ricky, himself, reminded us that the show evolves throughout the tour:
"Some of this material will be exclusive to you. But as I'd have cut them out before the next show, they will be the shit bits".
I only hope he finds a neater direction than the enjoyably chaotic presentation he enthralled the Sheffield crowd with.
A quick mention must go to support act, Stewart Francis, who was a massive hit in his role as warm up act. His stream of one liners had us laughing and groaning in equal measure. I am particularly fond of his zinger: "I quit my job at the helium factory. Nobody speaks to me in that tone!"
Gervais' latest is a success, albeit one that will divide, possibly alienate the non-diehards, and will almost definitely draw complaints from some quarters.

Guitar tab

All you guitarists out there, I spent hours working out "Do Angels Cry" by Lynden David Hall from scratch. It wasn't, and still isn't, to my knowledge, anywhere else on the internet...sacrilege.

Here's the link : go try and learn it, message me for any questions.
Also, do me a favour and even if you decide against learning it, go there and rate it. A meaningless, yet fitting reward for my finger picking skills.

http://www.ultimate-guitar.com/tabs/l/lynden_david_hall/do_angels_cry_tab.htm

Book Club: The Quiet American

James Cox reviews “The Quiet American” By Graham Greene

Greene's work is a master-class in how to write morality and his 1955 novel “The Quiet American” is a perfect example of this.
His characters display a sense of ethical realism and ambivalent character traits that help to destroy the readers’ sense of good and evil and display both an intimate observation of human interaction and a macro-cosmic epic on a geopolitical scale.
The story takes place in Saigon in the early 1950’s towards the end of the first Indo-China dispute that would escalate into the Vietnam War until 1973.
Protagonist Thomas Fowler is a veteran, English journalist who reports events devoid of opinion or political persuasion. He is Green’s vision of Englishness: logical, calculated, and cynically realistic. Fowler inhabits the kind of purgatory in which Greene thrives. He is at the end of life, and just as he refuses to side with either faction in the war, he too has found a level of comfort in his job and his personal life.
His Vietnamese lover, Phuong, is a purveyor of balance and harmony. She is portrayed sympathetically by Greene as a free spirit who exists unencumbered by any symbolic weight outside of Fowler’s journalistic, narrative ego. She prepares his opium pipes and is an object of desire, but rather than be demoted to a two-dimensional plot device devoid of any personal, or intelligible thought, she emerges as a mystery, a foreign body immersed in a culture neither Fowler, nor Greene, wishes to divulge.

“Sometimes she seemed invisible like peace.”

The equilibrium is destroyed when Fowler becomes acquainted with the eponymous “Quiet American” Alden Pyle who is in the country on an Economic Aid mission, and whose boyish naivety and democratic righteousness represent Greene's own observations of Americans during his time serving in Saigon. Pyle is a fervent advocator of imperialist writer York Harding and his steadfast loyalty to Harding’s writing paints him as a fundamentalist whose idea of establishing Americas democratic structure in Vietnam appear higher on his agenda than establishing peace.
Pyle’s allegiance to Harding’s literature arouses suspicion in Fowler that he may be involved in a mysterious “Third Force” operation through which the U.S. are promoting rebel leader Minh Thé as a potential ruler of Vietnam by initiating devastating bombings which are then used as anti Communist propaganda.
It is this subplot of political deviancy that has earned Greene's novel the label: “prophetic”. By the time “The Quiet American” was published in 1955 Americas “Third Force” had actually installed a puppet dictator in Saigon in the form of brutal leader Ngo Dinh Diem. Indeed, Green had met an enthusiastic member of the Economic Aid mission whilst serving in Saigon who had sermonized the benefits of a Third Force democracy – a character template for Alden Pyle.
In a fantastic example of Greene’s ability to digress between the ‘big picture’ and a much more intimate study of the human condition, Pyle’s political dissidence soon becomes personal when he announces to Fowler that he is in love with Phuong.
This can be seen as Greene’s way of drawing parallels between Pyle’s conduct and America’s overall policies in Vietnam, but I also believe the honest and touching depiction of love, and its different interpretations, are a main narrative focus for Greene, who handles the subject matter sensitively and artistically.
On one hand we have Pyle who has a projected image of Phuong as the ‘Eastern beauty’, his love encapsulated in a romanticised memory of her dancing in a white gown. He sees her through the naïve eyes of a man who has spent very little time in her home nation. He has the money to marry her and satisfy her desire to see America, and this meets to great approval with her over controlling sister.
Fowler, however, loves Phuong as a man at the end of life. Despite living in a time of seemingly endless war, they have found each other and he is reluctant to let her go. His fear of loneliness and Pyle’s colonial intentions highlight “The Quiet American’s” Jungian subtext – that of personal desires and motivations that drive the plot.
Fowler displays a desire to protect Phuong from Pyle’s “idea” of her, realising that with him she will no longer be able to function as a free spirit, but as an American’s trophy.

“The hurt is in the act of possession: we are too small in mind and body to possess another person without pride, or to be possessed without humiliation.”

Fowler is unable to marry Phuong as he is still married, and in one heart stopping section, receives a letter in answer to his request for divorce, proving again, that Greene can create suspense on a very personal level, as well as the political and theological issues for which he is usually credited.
Greene converted to Catholicism in 1926 in order to marry, earning him the self-rejected title of “the Catholic novelist”.
By the time of “The Quiet American” the thick ethical boundaries imposed by his Catholic discipline had faded to a grey area of personal motivation, and his struggle with his faith spills onto the page. In Greene we have an adulterer, a man who played Russian roulette as a youth, yet who has earned a legacy as a Catholic thinker. Just as Fowler gravely miscasts Alden Pyle as a Quiet American, the irony of Greene himself screams out here in theological debate:

“If I believed in any God at all, I should still hate the idea of confession. Kneeling in one of your boxes. Exposing myself to another man. You must excuse me, Father, but to me it seems morbid – unmanly even.”

“The Quiet American” is a success on all levels, portraying a touching and astute observation of interpersonal turmoil and love (and the loss of) as well as being chillingly poignant prophecy of America’s imperialistic intentions in Vietnam which will leave potent images of the recent, chaotic events in Afghanistan and Iraq firmly in the readers’ awareness.

Best Man

Being a best man is a bit like being called up for the army.
A great honour, but scary as hell.
I was chuffed to bits by being asked to join my good friend Samir, and his wife-to-be, Frances, at the alter, but almost instantly the fear of the dreaded speech set in. I had well in advance of a year to write the thing, but suddenly, it seemed like the most oppressive deadline I had ever encountered.

I must admit, I fell short in arranging his stag. Mercifully, Samir picked up the pieces himself, and I vowed to make the speech memorable, romantic, funny and poignant. 10 seconds after this claim, I realised I had set myself up for a catastrophe.

The night came and I was shaking like the proverbial leaf.
Then the most amazing thing happened. I delivered the speech. People laughed. Some even cried. I got rapturous applause and my usually unforgiving mates gave me plaudits enough to make a porn star blush.
I'm sure wedding audiences are kind, and sure also that my memory is providing a Hollywood sheen to a semi successful piece of public oration, but it is a moment I am extremely proud of, and one that seemed to genuinely add to the couples day.
Even if, a year later, I did forget their 1st anniversary...whoops!

Below is my speech in full (minus a few ad lib embellishments). Feel free to plagiarise:



Thank you that was overwhelming…
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, my name is James and I’m deeply honoured to stand here as the best man this afternoon.
Let me first say how beautiful the bridesmaids look today, only rightly outshone by our bride, Frances. And, I'm sure you'll agree with me fellas, today is a sad day for single men everywhere as another beauty leaves the available list. And ladies, I’m sure you’ll agree…that today's passing by without much of a ripple.
I’m very flattered to be best man but I’m finding this speech very difficult. It involves public speaking and saying nice things about Samir and I’m really not used to doing either, so please do bear with me.
And also because like all good friendships, the majority of our stories aren’t really suitable for public functions.


Up until now, there hasn’t been much I’ve envied Samir for. After all a beer belly and a camp run are not high on my wish list. But standing here today on this beautiful occasion, surrounded by family and friends and the way these two look at each other, it is hard not to be a little bit jealous. Also, I wanted to hold the cane! But no…
When Samir started talking about this girl called Frances who he had this amazing affinity with I thought “How will he muck it up this time?”
Thankfully he didn’t and has convinced Frances to marry him in what can only be described as a ‘shock victory’.
Previously our friendship was forged through our love of music, our passion for terrible action movies, but most importantly…our failure with women. Of course, our conversations on this subject have suffered since Samir met his lovely wife and I‘ve had to feign an interest in motorbikes to dispell the awkward silences. Frances has genuinely changed his life for the better, and managed to convert a hopeless bachelor into a hopeless husband. She has not only managed to cure his distrust of women but also instil an interest in curtains. There’s nothing more tragic than a grown man in Habitat!

I’ve been best friends with Samir since we met on a job induction weekend for Reebok. I sat in front of him on the coach for a three hour slog to Bolton whilst he played air guitar to the Stereophonics the entire trip. I thought “this guys an idiot.”
Over time he proved me right, many times. But we also realised we were as useless as each other when it came to the ladies and after many years he has become my wingman. The Apollo Creed to my Rocky, the Turk to my J.D. He’s always the first one there to celebrate our good times and to offer advice and pull me through the low times and if I’m totally honest, he is the real ‘best man’ here today.
That said, he IS all too willing to dress in women’s clothing. There was his stag where he looked liked a middle Eastern Norman Bates. But there was also a party we attended a few years back where, after a few drinks, he swapped clothes with a gay American drag queen called Michael. I’m not sure what gave Michael the wrong impression, but as Samir slipped out of his pleated mini skirt and handed him back his sequinned boob tube, Michael, convinced he was on to a winner turned to him and said “Do you like to play with boys?” Samir insists nothing happened but I still say it doesn’t take half an hour to put some jeans on.
With his patchwork heritage consisting of Arabic roots, his Scottish birthplace, and his Catholic upbringing, Samir has should have the culture, the education, the civility of three men. Instead he has the appetite of three men.
He is the only person I’ve ever met who views eat all you can buffets as a competitive sport. And if Frances wants to make it through this fraught, financial winter she might consider investing in locks for cupboards.
About 70% of Samir’s personality has been formed by Sylvester Stallone movies and
we once met the man himself. Baring in mind this is his all time hero, Samir did not handle himself with grace and poise. He opted instead to dress as Rocky and refer to Sylvester AS Rocky. I will never forget Sylvester staring back in a mixture of confusion and sheer disappointment.
But despite the macho exterior, he does have a softer side. Most of which we were exposed to over the stag weekend.
But he is, also the proud father of two…two house rabbits, of course named Rocky and Rambo.
27 and bunny whipped! What a shame.
It can’t be easy for Frances constantly clearing up after hairy beasts who soil their bedding and munch through everything….you can insert your own joke there.
I have noticed that the rabbits are fast taking on attributes of their master.
They get crabby around meal times, they smell bad and they’re rubbish on the guitar.
Samir has so far written a handful of songs, mostly about bodily fluids.
We can only pray he hasn't chosen "PMT" for his first dance.

They say that the best mans speech is the worst 5 minutes of the grooms day, but fortunately for you Samir it's almost over. Unfortunately, Frances, your worst five minutes will probably come later on.
On a more serious note I am so privileged to be up here along side my best friend as he marries someone who I love just as much. I think Samir and Frances are the type of friends who will always be there when you need them. And together they’re worth more than anything I could put in words.
I’d like to thank the brides family and Mr and Mrs Katcherian for making today possible.
Samir, I’d like to thank you for affording me this privilege, for trusting me with a speech and not sacking me when I lost us the go-karting.
It’s going to be difficult to share your affections with Frances but we’ll pull through.
Frances, good luck! Look after him for me, and maybe loan me him back so we can play squash every now and then. He’s a better man for you being around him and I’m happy you have both found the kind of real love that makes an event like this as beautiful and important as it should be.

So please, can everyone be upstanding and raise your glass to the newly-weds.
Samir and Frances.

BAND review: Smoke Fairies – Chichester duo ‘wing’ it in style.

Smoke Fairies – Chichester duo ‘wing’ it in style.
James Cox

Half way into their signature tune “Catching leaves” you start to get a hint of deep-South bluegrass about the Smoke Fairies.
This is bizarre considering the smoky vocals, atmospheric harmonies and steam train guitar rhythms, that would lend them selves to anything written by Mark Twain, contrast uncomfortably with their creators, two porcelain faced nymphets from humble Chichester, West Sussex.

It could be the time out the Fairies took whilst at University, where they performed around New Orleans, eventually hopping the greyhound to New York, but the Fairies’ sound defies their origins and their age (both Katherine and Jessica are 22 years old).

Their style lingers somewhere, mysteriously between Nickel Creek and Beth Orton, from the skiffle enduced “I’m so lonely” to the melancholic “I’ll move on”, the sounds are so refreshing and new (yet so old). Close your eyes and listen to “Smoke filled room”, you could be riding a tug down the Mississippi.

But these girls are not a cliché. Mixing mysticism with brooding sentimentality for another place, you’ll be so captivated the pure ambition of the vocal arrangements and the hypnotic melodies that when you stumble from your bar stool onto a damp London high street you’ll question whether you’ve just stepped through the looking glass.

Highly original and hauntingly delicate, Smoke Fairies web site is at: www.smokefairies.com and future gigs include:

British Muslims battle for identity, with little help from the Media. A feature...

Young British Muslims face an identity crisis. Somewhere between the Amir Kahn’s and the Abu Hamza’s lies the slim definition of moderate Islam. We investigate what it means to be a 20-something Muslim in modern Britain, and why many of them are stuck between Iraq and a hard place! By James Cox.

It’s difficult not to feel overwhelmed by the temperate hot-potato that is modern Islam, a faith attracting the kind of publicity that can define a generation.
Even our language has adapted to the climate: Terror, Guantanamo, Shari-ah, Jihad.
A tabloid goldmine of slogans keeping the middle-Brits awake at night, and with one eye on their neighbour.
From the controversial war in Iraq to the terrorist attacks and hate peddling preachers on our own doorstep, we all take a different look at Islam, and we have a new pin-up for ‘evil’.

But, from the ashes of the media hoopla, emerges a generation of people for whom the rules aren’t so clear. For British Muslims in their teens and early twenties, it’s difficult to know how to please everyone.
Here in the West: home of the disassociated youth, birthplace of the teenager, the dynamic of youth is very different from the moralistic ideals involved in a religious upbringing. For a teenager in Britain, the liberal expression of sexuality and the lure of alcohol seem to be as ingrained in our culture as the importance of abstinence in Islam.
Strangely, British boxing champ Amir Kahn, a twenty-something Muslim in the throes of a glittering career has had no problems winning over the public. Khan said he won his world title for Britain, the Pakistani community, and all Muslims. His public persona and his allegiance to his culture are inseparable, tethered together by his public allusions to it. Khan then was Britain's sole representative in boxing at the 2004 Athens Olympics, winning a silver medal at the age of 17 in the lightweight boxing category. He lost in the final to Mario Kindelan, the Cuban who, in 2005, he avenged the two losses by beating the 34 year old Kindelan in his last amateur fight.
Away from boxing he was involved in a TV programme for Channel 4, Amir Khan's Angry Young Men. The programme centred around troubled angry men and aimed to use the disciplines of boxing, coupled with faith and family values, to help re-focus their lives and steer them away from trouble in the future. He is a rare beacon of positivity in the muddied view of modern Islamic Britons, and even a spell of high profile driving offences, and defeat in the ring, have failed to dampen his popularity.
But even with his clean cut regime and success as a role model, Khan has received criticism from extreme Islamic quarters.
In 2008 Radical cleric Omar Bakri Mohammad was quoted in the Daily Mail saying: 'Amir Khan is not a good example for Muslims. He wears shorts with the Union Jack. That is a sin...He should not be wearing the flag because sovereignty is for God. His only allegiance should be to the Prophet Mohammed.'
But even this theological criticism was denounced by Inayat Bunglawala, the assistant secretary general to the Muslim Council of Britain, who pronounced Khan a proud role model.
Whilst Amir Kahn’s own self restraint may be aided (or even initiated) by the necessity for him to be in peak physical condition, does the average person in his demographic make choices on the back of their beliefs or upbringing?
Dee, a 24 year-old student born in Kuwait but raised in London is living proof of the identity crisis.
She is, all at once, a Muslim, a Briton, an Arab and a twenty-something – a colourful heritage made all the more troubling by the current climate.
“I feel incredibly pressured by these two opposing ideals,” says Dee, visibly troubled by her core dilemma. She is dressed in high street fashions, far from the robed extremists and scripture spouting images our media is saturated with.
“I have been raised in a Muslim family, but it is rooted in modern Britain. My parents have never threatened my education, or shielded me from other cultures. I was even educated at a Catholic school. Choices in life come from an individual. You learn things as you grow and interpret teachings in different ways. The choices should come from the individual not a misinterpreted scripture, or societies version of you. It’s a shame the way the media misrepresents modern Muslims. It makes my position even more difficult.”
Indeed, the cultural void imposed upon young Muslims seems married to the way in which we perceive them, and this seems to be the crux of the matter.
The majority of British Muslims come from Indian families, lending a specific weight to how we define what a “Muslim” is. This definition seems flawed when you consider the spectrum of cultures and degrees of belief within the faith.
There is considerable diversity, for example, between Sudanese and Kuwaiti practices.
The faith itself has become co-joined with a culture that exists only as a stereotype.
A faceless foreigner, an alien invader whose ways and customs do not appear to as unilaterally European as we would like.
Dee seems exasperated by this idea that we can define her as a Muslim.
As in any religion around the world some beliefs and practices are shared by all Muslims. Beyond these core elements however, the variations become immense.
“Some Muslims drink, some see pray, some don’t, some enter relationships with non-Muslims, some accept parts of the Qur’an and discard others. Just as some Christians accept homosexuality and the more extreme don’t. How can it not be viewed the same for Islam?
“It is essentially the same as saying you can’t be a Christian if you have had sex before marriage to suggest you can’t be a Muslim and drink.”
In fact it was Arab chemists who discovered alcohol in the middle ages (‘alcohol’ itself is an Arabic word). Islam DOES prohibit consumption, but the Qur’an does this gradually, even attributing, in some verses its beneficial effects. The majority of Muslim countries DO NOT outlaw the sale of alcohol and never have. Only in the more extreme countries such as Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan and Sudan do these restrictions apply.
“It’s a personal choice, that can only be made by someone who is well educated, and confident in their faith” Says Dee.
“It is not for us to judge anyone who decides to drink, or to abstain from drinking.
It’s more complicated than that. And the social pressures to enjoy yourself when you’re out seem linked to alcohol consumption. It’s confusing for anyone who’s been educated to not drink. You’re left feeling, Am I British? Am I Islamic, Am I Arabic...what am I? Perhaps I’m all of these things.”


Islam originated in 7th Century Arabia and after the prophet Muhammad’s death in 632AD, it split into two factions: Shi’ite – who believe the leadership should have passed to Ali Ibn Talib (Muhammad’s closest male relative) and the Sunni – who make up 90% of today’s Muslims and revere the caliphs chosen to succeed the him.
It is a common misconception that either group is more extreme than the other. After all, the fundamentalist leaders in Iran and Shi’ite but the Taliban in Afghanistan are Sunni.
By the 17th Century Islam had been and gone from Spain and Portugal, and was practised as far as India and Indonesia and as wide as Central Europe.
Today the rainbow of traditions and interpretations reflect the colourful past of the religion, a far cry from the image we have branded in our cultural consciousness.

I suggest you get your finger out !

The beginning is as good a place to start at, than any.
It may not be the most original or ornate structure to kick off this blog, but it's traditional. It satisfies the ancient lineage of written narrative and bows to convention with all the courteous nature of a Victorian gent.
"Good day Sirs! Madam! Welcome...may I help you into your carriage? How frightfully delightful it is for you to join me in my humble abode"
I had envisaged a more elaborate, multi-layered, escher-esque introduction; maybe on my death bed, or in the womb, like Tristam Shandy. A relative poioumenon of dream logic and sideways glances at the mundane.
Maybe it'll elevate this blog above all others, I thought. Maybe it'll herald in a new genre bridging the murky waters of art and journalism?

I wanted to deliver 'fact' in the frivolous conventions usually reserved for fiction, like a town cryer who graduated from RADA. I wanted to be a poetry spouting Jeremy Vine, pirouetting through the days events with the grace of Wayne Sleep and the integrity of Martha Stewart.
Only, in practice, I have to be interesting, informative, relate to as wide an a audience as possible. And I can't imagine anyone wanting to decipher a pretentious stream of rhyming couplets in an attempt to retrieve the lottery results.
And so, I leave the fractured rationale, so akin to the world of art and surrealistic vision, to Kauffman, Tarantino and the French.
This I have decided will be a blog, straight as an arrow; as direct as a Roman road.

My mission statement, if I have one, is this: I intend to research, methodically and journalistically, events from my local area, and subsequent areas of interest.
There will be discussions, essays, reviews, news items, features - and all safely below a seven out of ten in the "fun" charts.

It won't be mirthless, but I WILL omit any deliberate belly laughs.

So, I will start here. At the beginning.

Hello,

My name is James.
I am a qualified NCTJ journalist with experience writing for print, on-line facilities and as a reprographic proof reader.

I have set my sights on a career in the local print industry, at a time when jobs are as unstable as spinning plates. Vacancies seem as baron and sparse as frog spawn in the dead sea, and speculative letters are met with oppressive silence and casual disregard.

Finally today I got a response. From a local newspaper, for whom I have worked previously, during a brief tenure as a work experience kid. I enjoyed this period, and impressed enough to get an interview. However, my lack of driving licence was a stumbling block and I was back to the drawing board.

Now, as I sat in that familiar editors office, the walls strewn with front page exclusives and high profile scoops, the only things different were the licence in my wallet and the editor.
A professional, stern looking fellow who looked my CV up and down and then immediately dispensed with the niceties.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush" he said "you need to Pull Your Finger Out!" TM.

So here I am. Pulling my finger out.
And so here are you. At the beginning.

My finger may be muddied... but it is out. And I'm determined for it to stay out.