Little Things We Like: The Capitol Steps

When it comes to nibbling away at politcal institutions, this 30-strong musical troupe is right at the coalface. The self-proclaimed “only group in America that attempts to be funnier than Congress”, the Capitol Steps are formed entirely from current and former members of its staff, five of whom are pianists.

Since 1984 they have been in the business of lampooning everyone in a position of power in the US and beyond, and now you can get their 24th album, aptly named Papa’s Got a Brand New Baghdad. It forms part of a parody-studded legacy that has included songs such as On the Sunny Side of Tikrit, Son of a Bush, Osama Come Out Tomorrow and, harking back to the heady days of the Clinton administration, Our Love is Here to Stain.

As if world affairs don’t provide enough comedic value alone, several songs also make extensive use of the common spoonerism to pull humour out of the most unlikely places. For, as their website solemnly acknowledges, “something comes over a person when they learn to whip their flurds, or spew up their screech.” Sometimes, of course, senior officials don’t need any assistance to wrap themselves in verbal silly-string. capsteps.com

This article was published in The Guardian (G2 section), Friday 6th August 2004

Why I Love: Eye contact

As a non-Londoner, I find that the Underground works quite a bit better than its provincial counterparts. In many cities, a complaint that your train is a minute later than hoped would be met with a blank stare. In the rural depths, the fact that your weekly bus has come at all is cause for celebration. Unfortunately, the capital also tends to vindicate Eliot’s portrayal of a faceless crowd flowing over London Bridge.

On the tube we’re greeted with an impassable wall of books and newspapers. On the surface the city may be buzzing, but on some of the subterranean levels it wouldn’t seem much amiss to spot Gollum sitting quietly reading the Metro. Which is why I love those fleeting moments when two tortured souls connect – eyes meet, betray a glimmer of acknowledgment, then slide back to the stories of the day. A rare smile between strangers can make the fact that the air-conditioning has packed in and you’re stuck between stations, head wedged in an armpit, seem a little less like Armageddon.

It doesn’t have to be a case of boring your gaze through a fellow commuter’s eye-sockets until they’re forced to react with violence. Take the inevitable shared interest in a must-see headline. Granted, it can be annoying when the rest of the carriage snake their heads round your paper to study exactly who slept with whom, where and how much they were paid to say so. But it can also be reassuring to share a mutual tut and shake of the head at the shenanigans before us, or a grin at a particularly quirky morsel of news.

Sometimes, turning up the corners of your mouth and focussing on a stranger’s eyes, rather than a spot two inches behind them, may make you seem more terrifying than the most depraved psychopath. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a try: one can always take refuge in a stop-by-stop analysis of the Central Line if it all goes wrong.

This article was published in The Guardian (G2 section), Tuesday 3rd August 2004

Urban Oases: Chapel of Christ the Servant, Coventry

Beneath an iron crown of thorns suspended from the ceiling, a ring of seats skirts the edge of this unassuming chapel, from which narrow strip windows afford a view on to the outside world from within your own bubble of calm. Tucked off down a short passageway behind the altar, this is perhaps the most private space in the hugely dramatic, beautifully modern New Cathedral.

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005

Urban Oases: Ruins of St Michael’s Cathedral, Coventry

The oldest parts of St Michael’s date from the early 14th century. Until given cathedral status in 1918, it was the largest parish church in the country with a towering 295ft spire; now only this and the basic framework remain, the roof having met its end with the first of many incendiary bombs that hit the building on November 14 1940. With Basil Spence’s proudly modern New Cathedral now looming over its crippled counterpart, the humbling experience of standing among these fragile remains becomes a positive one, of progress in the face of adversity.

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005  

Urban Oases: St Paul’s Church, Jewellery Quarter

In the serene heart of Birmingham’s only surviving Georgian square stand St Paul’s, a church so peaceful that you feel wrapped in a blanket of silence inside. In the late weekday afternoon you may well find yourself alone with your thoughts. Make your way up to one of the balconies and perch on a window-seat overlooking the pews below.

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005

Urban Oases: Ikon Gallery, Oozells Square, Birmingham

If Brindleyplace is the crowning glory of the canalside redevelopment, the Ikon is the icing. Plain, smooth, white icing it may be, but then that’s what this gallery does best. Small but perfectly formed within its imposing neo-gothic shell, here you can soak up the minimalist modernism in a lunch hour, soothed by a sea of white.

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005 

Urban Oases: Vivid, Heath Mill Lane, Digbeth

“I suppose we could have just rented some office space, but where’s the fun in that?” says the director of local arts organisation, Vivid. What they did was swap shammy leather and engine oil for sound sculptures and video screens, converting a dilapidated 1950s garage into a challenging new exhibition space. Vivid have left the place rough around the edges with its MOT bay and original brickwork intact in stark contrast to the progressive installations within.

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005  

Urban Oases: Perrott’s Folly, Edgbaston

Rearing up amid an otherwise unremarkable suburb are the dark turrets of one of the city’s oldest and oddest architectural features. Its orginal purpose in 1758 is unknown: one theory is that John Perrott wanted to spot animals to hunt; another is that he wished to see his wife’s grave 10 miles away. For nearly a century the tower found a use as a weather recording station, but it and the equally striking Victorian waterworks tower down the road are most famous for inspiring Tolkien’s Two Towers.

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005

Urban Oases: Peace Gardens, Holloway Head, Birmingham

Battered in an air raid in 1940, a clock tower and domed cupola are all that remains of St Thomas’ Church, left to loom over these simple gardens as a monument to Birmingham’s losses. During 1998’s G8 summit in the city, each world leader planted a tree here to represent their country. A ‘peace pole’ rises from the centre bearing the inscription “May peace prevail on earth” in four languages. Forsaking the benches and sitting cross-legged beside the pole under the shadow of the church can be a powerful experience. 

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005

Urban Oases: Warstone Lane Cemetery, Jewellery Quarter

Opened in 1848 to ease overcrowding elsewhere, this seven-acre burial ground features triple-decker catacombs spiralling down the sides of an old sand quarry. The remains of the printer John Baskerville lie here against his will as an atheist, after a canal was cut through his chosen unconsecrated resting place. Sitting on the middle level of the spiral, resting your back against a now bricked-up catacomb and overlooking the trees below, is a beautifully tranquil experience. Only the faintest of traffic noises can be heard as you share a moment with some of Birmingham’s great pioneers.

This snippet was published as part of The Guardian’s Urban Oases supplement, July 2005