I'll admit a degree of satisfaction last night at seeing Rage Against The Machine triumph in the much coveted Christmas No.1 stakes. This strange, national institution has for many years been a guaranteed schmaltz-fest - originally with the specially crafted Christmas single by the band of the day (see Slade, Wizzard, even Gary Glitter!) or latterly by the progeny of Simon Cowell's talent grooming shows. The festive No.1 slot was of course as disposable as it was cheesy until Bob Geldof's Band Aid (and it's later, slight returns) made it an important barometer of what the country thought and felt - or at least that bit of the UK which still purchased the dying 'single' format. It's exactly this reliance on the sales of the most inexpensive format of all which has led to the Singles Chart being the bastion of poor quality, pre-teen pop for decades - aside from the incursion made by the enthusiast (not least the late 1980's heavy metal boom or the invasion of grunge for a few brief months in 1991/92).
So is this year's news significant? Well - yes. It demonstrates the power of the internet and in particular social networking in harnessing and giving voice to grass-roots campaigning. Whilst the objective of putting a 'proper song by a proper band' at the top of the charts at such a significant time is modest, it shows that a well orchestrated and carefully managed campaign could do pretty much anything. Ariane Sherine's Atheist Bus Campaign did something similarly unthinkable (and far, far more worthwhile I might add) but of course interested only the more serious news sources, aside from the occasional foray into 'PC gone mad!' territory in the red-tops. But hearing a brief blast of 'Killing In The Name' on Radio 4's Today programme this morning cemented the view that this was a rather miraculous thing - a festive message from the post-recession music market: we're not buying what you sell us.
The song itself? A several minute long blast of rather unfocused, bilious anger generated by the band's understandable angst at the Rodney King beatings in Los Angeles. Whilst that sounds worthwhile and earnest, the bewildered lyric slips half-heartedly from protest to threat while the band experiment with slap-bass and proper 'rock' guitar solos. It's actually very poor. I said it in 1992 and I'll say it now - the sole redeeming feature of this record is it's opportunity for a dancefloor full of students to yell 'Fuck you!' at the top of their voices. Back in 1992, in the heyday of my ill-fated and equally poorly judged Traumatone cassette label, we stood back and watched this song carefully - the most it raised back then was an eyebrow. Today at least it has raised significant cash for Shelter via a related campaign. Our observations though, culminated in a cover version - a low-budget and low-tech lounge pop version by the duo Poo & Wee. With a fairly serious stab at the music, they crooned oddly through the lyrics - unable to hide their confusion at Zac De La Rocha's jumble of angry words. Finally they found their way to the song's conclusion, each 'Fuck You' sounding like a mild expression of pique rather than a howl of protest. If you can find this version (and I'll tell you now, you can't) you'll laugh a lot - and then maybe understand how silly the song really is!
Of course here fans will talk about authenticity. There is no doubt that Rage Against The Machine have their origins in early 90's Los Angeles, with its guns, gangs and drug culture shaping their sound. As recently as the ill-fated Radio 5 session appearance last week, frontman De La Rocha was reminding us that his song meant more than Cowell's concoction because he wrote it in straightened circumstances - in a genuinely unpleasant part of LA. Because the song came up from the gutter, it has more honest, mass appeal perhaps? This is dangerously close to declaring some sort of musical class war which is surely deeply un-American! And I'm not sure how this reflects on Cowell's 'everyday people' - plucked from badly wallpapered semi-detached homes which we only get to see when the artist returns home to say "Well folks, I've won and I'll be buggering off to London now!". This struggle of rock versus pop isn't about class, colour or culture - those things are carefully stripped from corporately available music long before they reach the pressing plant. No, this is about people realising that it would be hugely funny to have a slightly rude, deeply angry and undeniably noisy slice of rock music gracing the post-blowout Christmas tea time. Rage Against The Machine rubbing shoulders with Her Majesty, a Last of the Summer Wine special and turkey sandwiches. Someone will of course die in Eastenders. Probably, if the on-the-fly editors can work it in, to the tune of 'Killing In The Name' - just to give the soap an edge of authenticity!
Interestingly, every lash comes with it's backlash and there are already conspiracy theories circulating: that Cowell cooked up the whole thing to sell more records and line his pockets, or that because Sony BMG is the rights-holder in both cases this evil corporate giant is the only winner. I don't think I believe either to be honest. Yes, I bought a copy - because the idea of Rage Against The Machine being Christmas No.1 with a grumpy, grungy blast of noise appeals to me. The alternative - another slice of Cowell-planned career pop - is too much to bear, one sickly sweet Christmas 'treat' too many. Like the mint which tips Mr Creosote over the vomit-spraying edge perhaps? The fact that 'Killing In The Name' is, in it's own way, equally silly makes it all the funnier.
Merry Christmas, pop fans. You can have your chart back next week.
Once again, having spent a week tackling cancellations and dealing with work related turbulence, I was looking forward to an escape. The bitterly cold weather was threatening snow in the coming days, and I was pleased to wake to what seemed to be a clear morning. However, I hadn't reckoned with the hardiness of the local villains who had been at work all night stealing copper signalling cable in Bridgwater! Real-time running information has it's limitations, and one of these is that until anything of passenger relevance is actually running, everything looks fairly benign on the timing front. Somewhere, between heading from my home in the rather smug certainty I'd soon be onboard a rather warmer unit and arriving at the glisteningly icy platform, things had gone very wrong. Very wrong indeed!
I won't dwell on describing the long, dark and cold wait for the 05:48 - suffice to say that for much of the time there was no information at all, and had it not been that I was travelling on a bunch of pre-booked fares which wouldn't get a refund out of this situation, I'd possibly have called it a day before it began. Spirits were (actually falsely) buoyed by the sight of 66177 slipping through on a slow move china clay working, kicking up a dust of frost as it passed. Eventually the train showed up on the web with a mere 15 minutes wait until it arrived. Toughed out this last freezing few minutes and was grateful to stumble onto the same unit I'd got home last night from the work's Christmas party! My confidence was soon restored by the guard's reassuring belief that I'd comfortably get the 07:30 to Birmingham, and that they already had a list of likely suspects for the theft which had occurred - some of which would be familiar to the locals. My confidence however, was misplaced and we ground to a halt at Uphill Junction with a signal and points failure up ahead. Here we stayed for what seemed like a very long time indeed, before gingerly creeping into Weston in near daylight. The 07:30 was behind us, but even the 08:00 which went straight to Wolverhampton (my first port of call - and a veteran of freezing December disappointments!) was looking unlikely too. Eventually we arrived at Temple Meads at 08:00 exactly, around 90 minutes late. Noted the 08:00 was announced delayed at the platform by "around 10 minutes" and made my way to the platform. Thought about queueing for coffee and food, but noticed that puffing up the stairs behind me was a harassed looking gent in CrossCountry Trains uniform who had been on the delayed 07:30. Quickly dashed aboard the waiting train and found a seat as he hopped on board and closed the doors for departure. I was, after a fashion, back on track.
I spent the journey northwards recovering the feeling in my chilled bones, and dozing after a fairly short night's sleep and too much to drink last evening. A slightly painful head had become a nagging ache due to the tribulations of the morning, and I managed to doze this away as we headed through the Midlands. The original plan had been to head for the Wolverhampton to Holyhead train direct to Chester, but this was now out of the question. Instead, planned to get the following Class 350 as far as Crewe and see what cropped up from there. With everything apparently a few minutes late due to snowy conditions on the southern WCML, had time to get coffee at Wolverhampton, but noted no breakfast available. Contented myself with a warm seat and a surprising change in the weather with bright winter sun descending once we were north of Stafford. Arrived at Crewe with time to grab the camera and get some swift shots of 86614 and 66588 manoeuvring in the bays at the south end of the station. I never fail to find something interesting here, somehow.
With the next Chester bound unit due in around twenty minutes, decided instead to head for platform 12, where a heavily delayed Pendolino was due to have 57311 attached for it's journey to Holyhead. As this would run only a few minutes behind the unit, I'd still make Chester in time for my next leg of the journey - albeit with no time at all in the city. Decided that this was a winning plan, and enjoyed the sight of luggage-burdened customers trying to board the "one carriage" 57311 while it waited for the arrival of the Pendolino. With the problems down south, 390027 was very busy on arrival, and I opted for a space in the vestibule of the front carriage where I could hear the 57 clearly as it was backed onto the train. A swift run followed, with a quick flypast of Crewe Electric before dashing out into the Cheshire scenery. Soon into Chester and a chance for a quick picture prior to departure. Also, finally found my breakfast in the excellent little cafe here. Stood beside the bay platform waiting for my next train to arrive, enjoying a good coffee and an excellent breakfast roll - my earlier troubles all but forgotten!
The next service was perhaps the main reason for the jaunt. Since Virgin began running two-hourly through trains from Chester to Euston I'd been intrigued to try the service. Having managed to get a fairly priced First Class single, I found my seat and settled in for the ride. As we headed back to Crewe, noticed threatening purple-black snow clouds gathering towards Manchester. Happy to turn south again, and head into the sunshine. Despite being a rather throw-away plan to occupy an otherwise quiet Saturday, this leg of the trip proved to be one of the more memorable jaunts of the year. As we headed into deep snow in Northamptonshire, the sun lit up the white landscape. Even the Train Manager came to sit and enjoy the views and chat as we sped south, any earlier problems seemingly now resolved. Almost sorry to find myself in the suburbs at Wembley, nearly at journey's end. With a few hours to kill in London, and not wishing to cover too much ground I might want to visit in January, I decided to take advantage of the fine weather and hop on a bus. Selected a Hackney-bound 253, travelling in a huge arc around North London, before dropping down through Clapton into Hackney. Here, headed for the North London Line narrowly missing a very crowded train and waiting in the cold for another which was equally wedged with shoppers. Watched the sun sinking in a red haze over London as the train began to empty a little after Highbury and Islington. Disembarked at Willesden Junction, having spotted 378005 waiting outside the station to form the next Clapham Junction train. Soon on board the very quiet unit and heading for my customary route back to Paddington via West Brompton. However, rather suddenly I realised that the next stop was Shepherds Bush and that the huge crowd outside was travelling home from the Westfield Shopping centre. Any attempt to remain near the doors failed and the huge crowd meant staying on at West Brompton and travelling back with the same unit from Clapham Junction! Amazed at the sheer number of passengers who managed to jam themselves into the train, and rather relieved to get off an also very busy working back to Willesden at the right stop.
A swift but equally cosy District Line train brought me back to Paddington and a chance to get a welcome coffee and stock up for the journey back. Noted with some surprise that the problems from earlier were still causing delays on the routes from Bristol, but that the 19:00 was seemingly due to head directly back to Highbridge as planned. I've come to enjoy quiet runs back on this rather sleepy train, which despite it's late arrival always seems to complete the journey. Today, that was particularly welcome!
Having done some absurdly early starts lately, it was a comparative luxury to rise late and make my way the short distance to Birmingham New Street for this trip. Pathfinder's annual Christmas 'spin and win' has become a bit of a tradition for me too - and in the past has seen me struggle through freezing Swindon streets or paddle across drenched Reading city centre. The tours are generally organised around the plan of a southern start, picking up at a fair number of stops before heading somewhere unusual and further north, with the obligatory changes of traction along the way. Having toyed with an early morning slog down to Cheltenham Spa to get more mileage behind 59204, our first loco of the day, I decided on the later start as we'd have the 59 with us until Kettering in any case. Thus, a little after the due time we made a start from New Street, staying close the the wall as we negotiated the tunnel and then crossing onto the Derby lines at the last moment. Only a few minutes of movement before we came to a halt in the Up & Down Lawley Street Through Siding, where 56312 waited to join the rear of the train before we pressed on via Water Orton towards Nuneaton. Much of the early part of the trip was spent mopping the condensation from the stock windows - another age-old tradition when the temperature outdoors drops! Amazingly, as we travelled east and then turned south onto the Midland Main Line, the sun managed to creep out from behind a blanket of grey cloud which seemed to be covering the West Midlands, and aside from a shower during our brief stop at Kettering, managed to stay with us for much of the day.
At Kettering, the train changed direction which meant 56312 leading us north while 59204 was left at the station to rejoin the train later back at Birmingham. However, with a fair few carriages at the front being off the platform, achieving a photograph wasn't going to be easy. Once the entire contents of the front two coaches had tramped by, used the opportunity to visit the grill car and enjoy a slightly later than planned breakfast. Soon off once again, heading through the new station at Corby and crossing the Harringworth Viaduct on route to Manton Junction. Here, we continued north towards East Midlands Parkway and the complex of junctions at Trent. Our booked route was via the High Level Goods lines, passing over the Nottingham line and descending into Toton Yard where one of the fast-dwindling fleet of Class 60s was due to be added. Pleased to see celebrity 'Army' liveried 60040 running and ready to be hooked onto the train. Some concern though, as this manoeuvre took place on the goods lines and we'd been booked to head onto the Mapperley Goods Branch. After a history of 'paperwork issues' with these rare sections of line, many of us onboard for the track began to fear the worst. However, things turned out exceptionally well for the connoisseur of unusual track. Firstly, once the 60 was safely attached we began to head along the Mapperley Goods Branch as planned, making slow progress alongside the main running lines, pretty soon, the train began to curve away to the west, the rarely used track creaking and protesting. On we travelled, under the motorway, with a couple of brief stops for the traincrew to clear debris from the line ahead. Eventually, we came to a halt at an open crossing not far from Stanton Gate Pipe Works. No-one had expected to get quite this far along the branch, and there was much congratulation for the driver who had pushed the loco right to the traversible limits of the line. After a further change of ends, the 60 began hauling us slowly back to the mainline. We had to slip into Toton Depot now to reverse, and the Loco Arrival Line was the booked point. Again, we didn't expect to get far into the depot - and again we had a surprise. The train slowly crossed into the complex, passing lines of stored Class 60s along with a few other interesting locos in varying states of decay. Still we pressed onwards, the line curving to allow further sightings in the compound and behind the depot buildings, before coming to rest right at the buffers. Another success, some slightly disparaging remarks from the non-track oriented among us, and a bit of a delay as we once again set off northwards!
After saluting a Peak waiting with it's train on the Midland Railway Centre's line at Ironville Junction, we curved east again at Pye Bridge, taking the line leading to Kirby-in-Ashfield and the Robin Hood line. I hadn't done this for link years, and possibly not in daylight if I recall correctly, so rectified that with a pleasant trundle through Nottinghamshire countryside. At Shirebrook we noted the part-demolished former Depot, before taking the line to Welbeck familiar from the Branch Line Society tour in July. The original plan had been of course to progress all the way to High Marnham and the new Rail Vehicle Development Centre. As it happens, the reversal would now take place at Tuxford, a little shy of the end of the line - but still further than I'd managed before. As the afternoon sun sank below the horizon we made incredibly slow progress towards Tuxford, with a large delay mounting. No-one seemed to mind too much, except for those who had onward travel issues. Noted that a couple of gents near us hailed from Bridgwater and had driven up to Bristol Parkway. Not sure now if I was more envious of them getting home albeit somewhat late, or pleased that I had a warm, comfortable hotel waiting in Birmingham!
After a reversal, and with the Class 56 once again in charge, we returned to Shirebrook, turning north and now very much in the dark as we headed for Sheffield and a brief unplanned set-down for some passengers who would otherwise struggle with the delay of over an hour we were now carrying. We pressed onward, onto the Erewash Valley line and once again towards Toton. At this point, a railtour regular piped up from the end of the carriage "y'know what? This tour hasn't really BEEN anywhere!". Understood what he meant as a spin via Trowell Junction, Radford Junction and the Lenton Curve once again found us facing north and stopped outside Toton Depot while a further loco joined our train. This time it was impeccable rail blue 47270 which topped 56312 and led us via Trent Junction to the freight-only line via Castle Bromwich back onto the main line at Burton-on-Trent for a final run into Birmingham New Street.
Again, the long train stretched beyond the platform and way into the dark at New Street, so photography was limited as it always is on such trips late in the year. Watched as the 47 and 57 roared off into the night, and wandered back along the platform as those travelling back south remained onboard awaiting 59204's return. Despite 'not going anywhere' we'd managed some interesting track, a rare view into Toton, and had a decent day out in good weather and fine company. As I await the 2010 programmes from the major railtour operators, and contemplate the cancellations which seem to be cropping up everywhere, I can only hope there are more of these journeys. For now though, I was happy to get back to my warm, dry room after a successful day's travel.
There are some unusual people in London termini first thing in the morning. I'd made my way to Victoria via an early train from Southampton Airport and a quick change at the ever busy Clapham Junction. With time to spare I stopped and purchased coffee, planning to watch the station wake up while I drank it. I've trudged around bits of London which are probably not terribly safe or secure, and I've blundered my way through enough contested territory in my time to know when I'm out of my depth. This place, however, surprised me. Oddly, it wasn't the shivering, twitching man with damp legs and an inability to insert coins into the ticket machines which finally made me slink out of the station - it was the well-turned out middle class woman who sat a few benches away reading a furniture store flyer from the newspaper. After a while spent intently studying the document, she very carefully and precisely tore it into pieces and flung them to the floor before dashing out of the station in a state of apparent distress. I decided to move on....
Today was always going to be a little odd - a replacement for another cancelled trip. This year has seen its fair share of this, and many of them have fallen seemingly at the last hurdle - victims of the economic downturn or perhaps just too many choices for too few potential travellers? Today's trip however was cancelled because the stock provider had overstretched themselves - so no Lincoln Christmas Market for me - but then again I was going for the route and the track, and not the overpriced shacks selling things people would never buy at any other time of year. Instead, made my way around a deserted underground, via the Circle to Liverpool Street. I'd allowed plenty of time for this, and strolled with a degree of leisure onto the concourse to find - in railway terms at least - all hell breaking loose! Cable thieves had been at work overnight near Chelmsford, and the entire mainline service on the Great Eastern was in disarray. Mostly, things were cancelled. The occasional train was struggling out to Shenfield, jammed with people hoping for a vaguely promised connection to points east. More coffee, and a retreat to a safe distance to watch events and asses the situation. Mildly diverted by the absent minded woman who didn't spot that the sloped fascia of an ATM wasn't a sensible place to rest a full cup of coffee! As cancellations stretched the length of the iconic Liverpool Street departure board, I began to doubt my plans...
But my generous allowance of time here eventually paid off. The 09:30 service on which I was book appeared - initially late based on an incoming working, but then on time as there were several sets already in the station from cancelled earlier services. Finally boarded after a bit of an internal debate - after all, delays were still predicted and whilst my advance ticket out would be honoured I couldn't really guess what would happen on the way back. The first train of the day to make it through to Norwich was predictably busy, but it was easy to ignore as we sped east into amazing winter sunshine which lit the Olympic Stadium in a way which almost made the folly seem impressive. Despite a couple of additional station calls, we made good progress until a little outside Chelmsford we ground to a halt. We didn't really move for around 45 minutes in fact, as a slow procession of trains slunk slowly by on the opposite line. Eventually we too began to move, carefully from signal to signal. My short stay in Norwich was getting shorter!
Eventually we made it through the affected area, and began to speed into the east once again. Amazed by the sheer variety and number of DRS locos stabled at Stowmarket as their duties on this autumn's Rail Head Treatment Trains had now finished. Eventually over the bridge at Trowse and into Norwich station with more DRS locos evident tucked away in the sidings. Any hope of getting a picture though, were dashed by another bit of stupidity - the new ticket gates at Norwich. As the entire contents of an exceptionally packed London train decanted into the area between the platforms and the gates, a single member of National Express staff manned a wide-aisle gate and a couple of bored looking British Transport Police officers looked on. The crowd became a crush, and then with other trains departing, a contest between incoming and outgoing flows. Still the gates remained closed, with just two of them dedicated to those heading out of the station. I wanted to complain, to point out how this had made a once rather grand and proud station into a glorified cattle-pen. I wanted to tell the BTP officers how irresponsible and dangerous forcing the crowds back onto working platforms was. But of course, I had absolutely no time to waste! As I burst out of the barrier, my first instinct was to dash for the gents conveniences - only to find that inexplicably they were on the railward side of the gates!
So my visit to Thorpe Station, once full of pleasant memories of exotic excursions on All-line Rovers, was brief. It lasted long enough to get a coffee and a snack, before forcing my way through the gates once again - unbelievably with some people still struggling off the incoming service over 20 minutes later! Found myself boarding the same carriage of the same train which was being hastily prepared for a return to London with a predicted delay of an ominously wide-ranging "30 to 90" minutes due to the continuing signalling problems. However, we were away on time - and as we gathered speed into the sinking sun all seemed fairly positive. It was of course a good few hours since the cable theft had been discovered, but it must have been serious as we slowed once again around Chelmsford with a sea of orange jackets working furiously beside the line. My contempt for the thieves deepened and darkened and I struggled with the competing desires either to bitterly complain about Norwich station's foolish gating, or to show solidarity with my beloved railway in this unfair situation. I wanted to correct people who were tutting about how "ridiculous" the service was...did they not understand that this wasn't some poor excuse - grasping, careless thieves had taken something provided essentially for these very passengers safety! I seethed back into London, pausing to enjoy the sunset over Bishopsgate before we plunged into Liverpool Street again.
Progress on the return had been better, and I found myself around 35 minutes down. Had I not blundered about looking for a bus stop which I knew couldn't be in the direction I walked, I could probably have avoided lots more trouble. However, I finally stumbled out into a damp, dark London to find a bus over the river to London Bridge. After a swift journey, found myself arriving on the concourse just as the train to Brighton was departing - I could have made it if I'd been sharper at Liverpool Street. Noted a following service a few minutes later, and consoled myself with more food and coffee - time lost and pounds gained perhaps, once again? Luck it seemed, had deserted me this morning at Victoria as once again my train began to show a delay. With the Thameslink service split by engineering, drivers were being taxied from St Pancras to London Bridge - and ours got stuck in traffic. Soon off, but some out of path running through the busy junctions here made for around 15 minutes delay once we were on the mainline. The train was busy, noisy and the darkness outside made the trip rather dull. I also noted that this meant reorganising my next couple of trains too - with my iPhone battery edging into the red, made hasty plans to get a Portsmouth train and find my way back to Eastleigh via a change at Cosham. Memories of the Class 31 trips of nearly six years ago flooded back at this change of plans. Back to the worn and gum-flecked seat of my railway travelling pants once again! As it happened, the Portsmouth train was late too - and once again I found myself reorganising things swiftly and hoping I could squeeze enough life out of my gradually expiring 'phone. Having toyed with various options, I decided that the best (though perhaps not strictly Routing Guide compliant) option would be to stay on the stopping service as far as Fratton, then to get a Cardiff bound service - which would be diverted to Eastleigh due to the works on Southampton Tunnel. Stepped off the train in Fratton in a deluge of cold, heavy rain. Trudged over the leaking footbridge and waited for the familiar unit. Rather pleased to see it arrive pretty much on time, and settled in for a short dark ride back to Eastleigh, with now only a very short wait on the same platform for the train back to Southampton Airport Parkway. A bit of rare track to end the day too, crossing over south of Eastleigh and runnning wrong line to the Airport.
Not sorry to see my hotel room again after an entertaining but frustrating and long day. Can't help but think the railtour would still have been a far more sociable and fruitful alternative in terms of track - but it's good to know I can still take off on these epic cross-country jaunts when I feel the need.
Lost::MikeGTN
I've had a home on the web for more years than I care to remember, and a few kind souls persuade me it's worth persisting with keeping it updated. This current incarnation of the site is centred around the blog posts which began back in 1999 as 'the daylog' and continued through my travels and tribulations during the following years.
I don't get out and about nearly as much these days, but I do try to record significant events and trips for posterity. You may also have arrived here by following the trail to my former music blog Songs Heard On Fast Trains. That content is preserved here too.
