Something I learned today

I was watching ‘The Prophecy’ (supernatural movie starring Christopher Walken) on DVD last night and it suddenly twigged where I’d heard the opening sample from ‘Milliontown’ by Frost* before:

…little things…

(Anyway, a good excuse to listen back to a fabulous slice of neo-prog 🙂

Fresh from the vault (4)

The House Of Love’s first two albums are landmarks of British Alternative pop, channelling the spirit of ‘60s psychedelia without resorting to crude pastiche. Following their second – the still remarkable –  “Butterfly”, featuring THoL’s closest brush with mainstream success, “Shine On”, their lead guitarist, Terry Bickers was unceremoniously offloaded in the wake of a drug-fuelled depression. His next project, Levitation surfaced a year or so later, producing an EP (After Ever) and a compilation (Coterie) whilst touring extensively. They were, in Bickers’ own words, ‘…progressive… but totally in the now’ Their debut LP (and masterwork) wouldn’t appear until 1992, however:

“Need For Not” is very much an album of two halves, with opening track, “Against Nature” setting the agenda for the first half: rocking far harder than anything in the HOL’s catalogue, it’s driven by Dave Francolini’s hyperactive drum fills and the intwined riffage of Bickers and (Cardiacs’ protégé) Christian ‘Bic’ Hayes. The next two tracks follow in the same vein, before “Resist” drops the tempo somewhat: a dreamy Bickers’ vocal floating on the swell of guitar noise, imparting to the track something of a Shoegaze feel. “Arcs Of Light And Dew” begins in similar mode, but this is where the album really opens up, with Robert White’s keyboard work becoming more prominent in the mix and distorted riffs supplemented by more intricate guitar flourishes. Over – a vinyl-centric – forty-four minutes, loud/quiet, fast/slow, noise/melody contrasts are explored to dramatic and unsettling effect, and even the more rocking material is infused with the trippy ‘otherness’ that characterised THoL’s best work. It’s a short listen by today’s standards, but every track, and the album as a whole swells with grandiose intent, climaxing with the shifting textures of “Coterie”, which twinkles menacingly before a controlled explosion and long fade brings band and listener back down to Earth, exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure.

Bickers suffered another breakdown whilst touring Need For Not and dramatically quit the band onstage, nixing any chance of a follow-up (although a part-completed album with replacement singer Steve Ludwin was released in Australia prior to the band’s dissolution). Hayes, Francolini and, bassist Laurence o’ Keefe have resurfaced in various projects since – most notably Dark Star, Mikrokosmos and Dragons – but never quite re-captured the intensity and focus of this astounding album .

World Around:

Smile:

Fresh from the vault (3)

Rock fans have a thing about ‘technology’. Not all technology, mind – where would we be without electric guitars and amps – but keyboards and particularly sampling technology. Until well into the ’90s they just weren’t considered ‘rock’n’roll’ enough; somehow inauthentic by contrast to ‘manly’ and ‘organic’ Les Paul’s and Flying V’s. Certain artists were way ahead of the game of course – mostly progressive and new age acts like Floyd, Tangerine Dream and Oldfield- but hard rock and metal fans were slower to catch on. To this day, top names like Iron Maiden and Oasis keep the keyboard guy tucked away in the wings out of sight: fans of the former reacted with outrage to more overt use of synths on ‘Somewhere In Time’ (1986) and ‘Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son’ (1988).

It was inevitable, though, that at some point certain forward-looking artists would find new ways to rock that took advantage of the newly-affordable sampling and sequencing technology that brought a new ambience to popular music through the ’80s and ’90s. So-called ‘Industrial’ metal acts like Ministry and Nine Inch Nails were amoung the first to win over the rock crowd, blending hard rock riffs with synthesised bleeps and beats inspired by the likes of Gary Numan, Depeche Mode and Belgium’s Front 242. Interestingly, fans of the Mode were equally perturbed by the introduction of ‘live’ instrumentation on their ‘Violator’ (1990) and ‘Songs Of Faith and Devotion’ (1993) albums.

But I digress. One of the major players in ’90s metal took the whole man vs technology conceit and made it their calling card. neatly encapsulated by the sleeve illustration of a ribcage/barcode in cool blue tones, Fear Factory’s ‘Demanufacture’ album (1995) is one of the landmarks of forward-looking rock in that decade.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/2d/Fear_Factory_-_Demanufacture.jpg

The music is emphatically ROCK, and clearly owes its inspiration to thrash metal and hardcore punk but the use of cold synth washes, samples and triggered drums give it an almost mechanical feel, whilst adding melody and harmony to rub up against the headbanging aggression. New Breed (below) incorporates some decidedly trancy sounds into what is basically a thrash/punk song, whilst ‘A Therapy For Pain’ is a dreamy, extended mood pice. The dichotomy extends to the vocal department, with singer Burton C. Bell affecting the contrasting clean/gruff vocal styles that would prove so influential in metal from then on. The conceptual nature of his lyrics took in weighty matters including cloning (‘Replica’), Religion (‘Zero Signal’ and ‘Pisschrist’) and the end of the world in a war between man and machine, inspired ‘The Terminator’ movie.

Rhys Fulber from Canadian industrial dance group Front Line Assembly had produced a number of remixes from FF’s debut LP, ‘Soul Of A New Machine’ and returned to mix this album too. The result is an album full of contrast and complexity. The production values mark it out as a ’90s album but the quality of the songwriting has stood the test of time admirably. They’ve not produced anything as front-to-back jaw-droppingly rocking since.

New Breed:

Piss Christ:

 

 

 

Fresh from the vault (2)

I was a latecomer to Bob Mould. Husker Du were done and dusted and he’d released two semi-successful solo albums before Sugar zoomed onto my musical radar screen via a cassette covermount with, I believe, Sounds (though it could have been Melody Maker). Those papers have gone the same way as cassettes, and Sugar are a distant memory now, though Mould continues to include much of its repertoire in his solo sets, perhaps as a reminder to himself of the standard he need to aim for. Both the Du and his solo albums have yielded up rich, if sporadic pickings but Sugar (and debut long-player, Copper Blue in particular) represented something of a creative high water-mark.

The track that piqued my interest was album opener ‘The Act We Act’ (below), an astonishing statement of intent. I wasn’t familiar with the Du or his solo stuff then, but if I had been I’d have noticed how he’d really learned to write a hook since then. From the screamy punk of the early Du to the often funeareal dirge-like qualities of his first two solo efforts, Mould had dipped his toe into pop waters but the economy of his writing here is astounding. Husker Du have often been name-checked as influential by a host of Emo and Indie bands but on Copper Blue he out-writes any of them. If you’re familiar with anything from that album it’s probably second single, the catchy Indie-ballad ‘If I Can’t Change Your Mind’, and as good as that is most of the rest of the album is even better. If I’m asked to name perfect albums where every track is a standout then this is always in my top 10, along with Elizium (see ‘Fresh from the vault 1). I’ll even let Mould off for blatantly ripping off Pixies ‘Debaser’ and calling it ‘A Good Idea’. I imagine Black Francis was flattered.

Mould has always been more or less autobiographical in his lyric writing and so it always sounds as though he’s appealing directly to the listener, which can a discomfiting experience since most of the words appear to be directed at the other half of a rocky relationship. The aforementioned ‘…Change Your Mind’ is a bon-adieu to a departing beau, which manages to combine wistfulness with a stiff upper lip: in spite of the subject matter it’s upbeat and uplifting. ‘Changes’ and ‘Helpless’ are both rockier and more desperate sounding affairs; missives sent from the eye of stormy territory.  ‘The Act We Act’ comes from much the same place lyrically, albeit paired with a slower, growlier delivery. On the hard-rocking yet stupidly-catchy ‘Fortune Teller he berates a lover for his lack of commitment and just for levity, ‘Slick’ narrates a drunken car crash (after an argument with a lover, of course).

But the real centrepieces of this album are the epic-sounding tracks five and six. It’s tempting to read the opening lines standing on the edge of the Hoover Dam, from ‘Hoover Dam’ as referencing suicide but I have an inkling the words are meant figuratively, about being at a crossroads in life . With its backward-tracked drum intro, lush keyboards and two guitar and piano breaks it’s probably the most arty, ‘musical’ thing Mould has committed to record. Mid pace and subject matter aside, it has a soaring, redemptive feel and as its closing guitar solo fades into some more backwards-tracked percussion and vocals it does nothing whatsoever to prepare the listener for the next track, ‘The Slim’. This is another epic number with lyrics mourning the death of a partner from A.I.D.S. and whilst it’s the tear-jerker that that might suggest it eschews wallowing in grief and manages to remain a catchy and compelling piece of songcraft. The dirge-y style is probably the closest thing to Mould’s previous (and far less listenable) effort, ‘Black Sheets Of Rain’ which is every bit as cheerful as the title suggests.

It’s noteworthy that this album came out mere months after Nirvana – who credited Husker Du as a large influence – released Nevermind and tempting to speculate that had the release dates been reversed we’d now be celebrating 20 years of Copper Blue. It’s at least as good a slab of hook-laden, kick-ass indie rock and like the latter has stood the test of time remarkably well. Check these out:

Fresh from the vault (1)

I have lots of music at home. My days of collecting vinyl are long gone, which is just as well since my CD collection encroaches upon this diminutive one-room studio flat more than I would like. I took 100+ discs across the road to the charity shop a couple weeks back (plus a similar number of paperbacks) and I swear you can hardly tell.

The sane side of my brain suggests I save all the music I like onto the pc and ditch the discs for good, but sanity be damned I’m just too attatched. I’m one of the dying(?) breed who just loves the physical product. I haven’t, unsurprisingly, considered buying a Kindle either.

Healthy to have a clearout once in a while, though. Not only to weed out the chaff, but to renew one’s appreciation for the golden, sun-ripened wheat. In the run up to The Mission gig I attended last weekend I dug out a few albums to refresh my memory that I might better be able to holler tunelessly along. I didn’t get very far. The Mission’s albums tend to be patchy at best. Better by far is the back catalogue of their special guest act Fields Of The Nephilim, and special mention deserves to be made of their 1990 swansong, Elizium.

Aficianados (the term does scant justice to the insanely devoted mob that dance to the tune of singer Carl McCoy’s pipe) will perhaps already be bristling. Much post-Elizium material has been released, some of it officially but this album is the last time that the ‘classic’ line-up of the band pulled together and rocked transcendent under the Fields… moniker. McCoy was always the heart and soul of The Nephs but the chemistry between Tony Pettitt (bass), Paul Wright (guitar), Alexander “Nod” Wright (drums) and Peter Yates (guitar) produced some extraordinary results over the course of three albums. If their debut long-player ‘Dawnrazor’ (1987) was representative of the Darkwave sound (think New Wave and, er, dark) Elizium was heading off into prog territory.

It’s song structure resembles something from the early ’70s classic Yes period – the eight listed tracks are basically four weighty, extended workouts subdivided into manageable chunks. Book-ended by two – ludicrously-titled – fifteen-minute suites, it further extended the epic, atmospheric explorations begun on The Nephilim and the Psychonaut singles. ‘(Dead But Dreaming)/For Her Light/At The Gates Of Silent Memory/(Paradise Regained)’ is an atmospheric masterpiece, moving from the spooky chords of the intro, through the surprisingly hooky (first single) ‘For Her Light’, into a positively Floydian expanse of Crowley samples, soaring guitar and crashing percussion (‘…Silent Memory’) before ‘Paradise…’ picks up the pace again and draws the suite to a close in a maelstrom of riffs. My only minor quibble is the fade-out ending – a pet hate of mine – and the live rendition featured on Earth Inferno (see below) is altogether more satisfactory.
‘Submission’ is something of a departure for The Neph – originally heard in stripped-down, instrumental form as a b-side on album trailer ’For Her Light’ it’s an expansive mood-piece, distinguished by squalling solos from Wright and Yates. As ever with Neph records, Nod Wright’s percussive skills underpin proceedings: he’s on a par with The Floyd’s Nick Mason or Marillion’s Ian Mosley in this repect – rock solid and unfussy percussion – though he’s arguably more precise than either. McCoy’s vocal is spoken, in contrast to his more usual delivery, though the growl remains as distinctive as ever.
‘Sumerland’ follows on in the hypnotic, industrial vibe of the ‘Psychonaut’ single – building to a breathy climax. In many ways it’s the closest thing to previous Neph outings, though no less effective for all that.
‘Wail Of Sumer/And There Will Your Heart Be Also…’ is a positively transcendental experience, showing mastery of mood over the album’s final thirteen minutes. Lush samples usher the listener into a deceptively chilled-out soundscape, overlaid with a restrained, crooning vocal from McCoy.

It’s an overblown yet sublime album, recorded by a band at the peak of their musical powers wth musical ideas above the station of Gothic Rock, and a fitting epitaph for the definitive Nephilim line-up. After five solid years of recording and touring the band had become skilled players and arrangers, and the peculiar theatrics – dust, dry ice and cowboy costumes – and equally Byzantine lyrical preoccupations – the Cthulhu Mythos, the Sumerian religion, Chaos magic and the works of Aleister Crowley – no longer came across as mere novelty. The band was tight and McCoy had drawn his obsessions together into a vision that was, if not coherent then certainly compelling. Furthermore, they’d recruited Pink Floys associate Andy Jackson to record and co-produce the album, resulting in a lush, textured sonic pallette not dissimilar to that band’s late ’80s – mid ’90s recordings.

British rock in the ’90s was to become a cool, detatched animal in contrast to the glam and theatrics revived in the ’80s. This is an album that plays the hand of excess not only impresses with its histrionic audacity but remains a rich, moving listening experience. A one-off album from a one-off band.

Metal illness?

According to University of Melbourne researcher Dr Katrina McFerran, young people who gravitate toward heavy metal music repetitively are more likely to end up depressed.

The powers that be have long had a prurient interest in music favoured by the young: especially heavy rock, rap and (during the late ’80s and early ’90s when raves did much to rekindle the rebellious flames of the early rock’n’roll days) dance. It’s frequently considerd to be a ‘bad influence’ in a nebulous way that studies of this kind do precious little to elucidate, once you get behind the headlines.

I don’t blame researchers per-se, though I’velong suspected that studies that rely on the experiences of such a small sample (50 in this case) to extrapolate general patterns of behaviour are flawed from the off. Large scale, anonymous, open-ended questionnaire-based surveys preferred by sociologist Shere Hite for her famed series of Hite Reports provide a more nuanced response. Having not read the original report I’m prepared to hold fire on the good doctor, but the way the study has been reported in the press is perfectly reprehensible: ‘Heavy Metal has negative impacts on youth’; ‘Heavy Metal fans more exposed to mental illness’ and variations thereof proliferate.

Psychcentral was closer to the mark with its headline:

Depressed Teens Listen to Heavy Metal Music in Unhealthy Way

This turns most of the headlines on their head, more truthfully stating that many already depressed (or at least unhappy) younger listeners are choosing to use music to ‘escape from reality’ as McFerran puts it. Well hasn’t that always been a part of the allure of rock’n’roll? Teenage years are a tumultuous time: exam stress; school bullying; navigating the minefield of emerging sexuality and relationships, starting employment (or not) are all issues that kids may well feel a need to escape from and music is only one means of doing so. The use and abuse of drugs – alcohol and ‘skunk’ weed particularly – ‘reality’ TV, easily-accessible, immersive, violent online gaming and pornography ought also to be considered.

To attempt to distil the souce of behavioural and psychological problems down to one’s choice of music is barely credible. The study is doubtless more nuanced than headlines suggest but today’s consumer of knowledge and advice has little time for the finer points: it’s all about the headlines. This kind of simplistic thinking has reared its ugly head before: remember the implication of Child’s Play 3 around the James Bulger killing? All the above and other environmental factors bear consideration and not in isolation but as part of a complex, interconnected system. Doctors today can on occasion be overbearing; too quick to apply a medical diagnosis and provide concomitant treatment. Sometimes it just is ‘a phase they’re going thru’.

And music can play a positive role in this too. Intelligent rock and pop music can provide a source of inspiration and a sense of belonging to kids fumbling their way thru their formative years.

Porcupine Tree – ‘Fear Of A Blank Planet’

Doves – ‘Black And White Town’

Sure, we should be caring what our kids are feeling (though any half-way responsible parent will be doing so anyway) but knee-jerk reactions to what is most of the time nothing but a harmless diversion really aren’t the way to go. They’re certainly not good science.

On a Mission

I saw The Mission live for the second time tonight at London’s Brixton Academy. In 1991 they were blown away by their opening act, Irish indie rockers, Power Of Dreams. By all accounts I caught them in a bad patch, with inter-band tensions having already resulted in the departure of guitarist Simon Hinkler and soon to spell a temporary hiatus.

Tonight I attended with no particular expectations. To be honest the main draw was special guests Fields Of The Nephilim and I hadn’t kept up with recent Mish releases. So, WOW! What a revelation. But first…

The Neph were as good as I knew they would be. No matter that singer Carl McCoy is the only remaining original member, the songs stand up for themselves. Shroud and Straight To The Light from last studio outing, Mourning Sun aren’t really up there with the ‘classic’ period but they set a suitably sombre tone for the rest of the set which represents the band’s oeuvre well. Inevitably, favourites like Preacher Man and Psychonaut elicit the most powerful response but it’s good to hear highlights from the underrated Zoon album like Penetration (an atypical thrasher) and the title track [part 3]. It was a greatest hits set but most of their back catalogue fits that description. Genre notwithstanding, The Neph are in a league of their own – just a very good rock band.

I wanted to leave then – for surely nothing could top that?  I nearly did but I’m glad I stayed for at least some of the rest.

Leaving aside the dreaded ‘G’ word, The Mish (and indeed, The Neph) belong to a certain strain of ‘cult’ act. Earnest yet humorous with it, never breaking really big but refusing to lay down and die, they attract the kind of adulation reserved for Premiership footballers and X-Factor hopefuls – even if frontman Wayne Hussey looks more like a geography teacher these days. There’s an almost ritualistic level of devotion that’s easy to ridicule but harder to rationalise. There was a real vibe in the house tonight; real love. That was what made it. I kinda felt like a traitor for leaving.

Beyond The Pale was a storming opener. In the live arena it’s all about the rock and Hussey’s ear for a well-worn cliche barely grates as it can on album. Hands Across The Ocean and Serpent’s Kiss were nearly as good. Garden Of Delights and Severina worked far better live than on their tinny-sounding early recordings and special mention must go to the touring drummer who tore into his parts with obvious gusto. He’s the only non-original member, with Hinkler back on lead guitar and an Alarm-revitalised Craig Adams on bass. I departed to the fading strains of the sublime Butterfly On A Wheel, a very happy man indeed. I would loved to have stayed longer were it not for the fact of work in er, seven and a half hours, but it was time enough for the Mission to restore – in my eyes – their rock’n’roll reputation.

Lulu vs lucre

When you live through something it’s not always apparent how revolutionary it is: you get caught up in the excitement.

i grew up listening to Thrash Metal and had some fine times in clubs, stadiums and fields but never thought of it as anything other than rock’n’roll, a great time. In retrospect I can see a band like Metallica developing from being a cult act into a rock phenomenon. There was a point in the ’90s when they were part of an indisputable holy trinity – along with REM and U2 – of stadium rock acts. The ‘Black Album’ was a massive breakthrough in rock as important in its own way as ‘Automatic For The People’ and ‘Achtung Baby’. Three bands harnessed their potential and balanced the demands of art and commerce with hereforeto unrivalled finesse. It was a fine time to be a rock fan. All three have seen checkered times since then, with Metallica having perhaps suffered the most; in part due tothe Napster business. They came across as self-important, as sincere as their motives may have been. Load/Reload should have been one streamlined record, not two patchy ones: metal fans can’t abide indulgence.

They take their music seriously in large part because it’s often been marginalised. They enjoy their bands’ success but are touchy about any whiff of ‘selling out’. Being on the edge of the pop world is a point of pride.

We’ve grown up since then. Looking back I can appreciate how these and other bands try to be creative and saleable at the same time. To quote ex-Yes drummer, Bill Bruford

‘To be too far ahead, to offer a music that is incomparable to another would be unwise. In practice we settle for a rearrangement of ideas that previously have been accepted… new music would be meaningless, in that society would have no time to form the taste groups… that would attatch meaning to it.’

It’s good to see metal getting some mainstream recognition again. Mastodon make music that is ball-bustingly-heavy, complex and ferociously catchy:

Metallica pioneered this (for my generation at least) so it’s gratifying to see them returning to confront fans’ expectations and ignoring the critics. That’s – ironically – what broke them in the first place. ‘Death Magnetic’ garnered the most amount of critical acclaim since ‘Metallica’ but it’ll go down in their history as an attempt to appease fans pissed off by ‘Load/Reload’ and ‘St. Anger’, just like U2 with ‘All That You Can’t Leave Behind’.

This:

http://www.loureedmetallica.com/listen-to-lulu.php

Is back to the ‘couldn’t-give-a-fuck-gonna-do-our-own-thing’ Metallica of ‘Ride The Lightning’ through to ‘…And Justice For All…’ days. Those albums revolutionised metal.

Maybe they’re doing it again?

Bad form

So I was shopping for cookware online the other day and Sainsbury’s had exactly what I wanted (ceramic roasting dishes if you’re interested).  I’d never bought online from  there before and like most stores today I had to sign up for an account, even though I probably won’t be shopping from there again anytime soon. No problem, the price was right and they deliver so I start filling in the form and notice something remarkable: in the box marked ‘title’ the default is ‘Mrs’.

The other potential titles available are Mr, Miss, Ms, Capt, Countess, Dame, Dr, Earl, Lady, Lord, Revd, Sir and Sis, so one can scarcely fault Sainsbury’s of not trying to be inclusive but in my experience most forms have no default. Why would they?

It rankles to think that in the second decade of the 21st century, a company can safely assume that it’s women who do all the grocery shopping. Sadly however, they’re probably right; and a notable proportion of the Mrss reverting to Miss or Ms this year will be doing so because hubby hasn’t been pulling his weight on the domestic front.

…From the mouth of Gervais

God bless Ricky Gervais. No, really.

Derogatory language targeting  disability and the disabled is the last bastion of true invective.

It’s part of an entrenched stigma attatched to low ‘ability’, both physical and mental. Witness that ‘thinking’ jobs are ever held in higher esteem and better paid than ‘doing’ ones. Those requiring support from society, whether ‘slower-developing’ children, single mothers claiming childcare allowance or an elderly person needing medical care are oft- regarded as a burden by many who are able to ‘stand on their own two feet’; and those supplying said support – teachers, medical staff, benefits agencies – are equally derided, and poorly paid to boot. The stigma of being dependent or ‘unintelligent’ and the sting of the words attached to such conditions will only lessen when we are able to confront and overcome our dysfunctional attitudes and where we start is in the words we use and how we use them.

Detractors of Hip-Hop, R’n’B and sub genres thereof  will no doubt miss the point that n****r (or more properly, n***a) has become an infinitely richer and more nuanced word since being freed from the shackles of separatist oppression. Listen to much black music with an open mind and ears and you’ll hear it used affectionately, aggressively and various shades in between. Love it or hate it – and the jury’s out on that one both within black circles and without – it’s become, or at least is on its way to becoming, a full and legitimate word.

Likewise, it’s remarkable that terms like ‘poof’ and ‘fag-hag’ can now be routinely heard without hint of malice. Racism and homophobia haven’t gone away, of course but they’re no longer our supposedly civilised society’s dirty little secret and language is evolving along with attitutes. Some people’s attitudes, anyway. That’s down to hard work and commitment on the part of Gay Rights lobbyists like Peter Tatchell, shouting terms like ‘gay’ and ‘poof’ with pride;  not whispering them with ill-disguised contempt.

There are those still bemoaning the fact that ‘you can’t say “gay” anymore’ (even though you clearly can). It would anyway require a once extraordinary degree of idiocy to infer homosexuality in most contexts where one was referring to happiness. Come to think of it, ‘Idiot’ used to be recognised medical terminology (for a mental retardation or low intelligence) as recently as the early twentieth century. Likewise Gervais wasn’t being derogatory by referring to his fans as ‘Mongs’ any more than Dr Dre was by referring to DJ Muggs as ‘my n***a’ (and if you can remember that song and the album it was on then you maybe remember the bad old days when racism was barely talked about in public at all). It must be equally clear to most that Mel Gibson is, incontrovertibly bigoted. Hopefully, we’ll reach a point where n***a will become common currency among all, regardless of ethnicity (or not, simply based on it’s value and popularity as a word) because either way, we’ll know that race has ceased to be the big divide it used to, and too often still is.

The point is that words and their meanings are not set in stone; they only become that way when we clasp them to our breast in fear. We need to share them; fight over them; play with them; pull them apart and stick them back together in new and imaginative ways.  What is wonderful about our age is that the debate about what means what and to who is happening live before our very eyes (and ears).

We’re clearly not comfortable with disability. Let’s talk about that.

That’s why people like Gervais are important: they confront our expectations; they make us squirm with discomfort, and then what can you do? You just have to laugh.