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Sunday, October 12, 2014

Jose Feliciano and the tale of two countries

October 12th – How do you feel about your national anthem? If you’re a UK citizen does it fill your breast with pride and a longing to hug a picture of the Queen, or does it serve as a constant reminder of our arrogant colonial beliefs and brutal history?
One of my abiding memories of national anthem tomfoolery was when that chinless twerp, John Redwood, was made Secretary of State for Wales, probably in the John Major government…jeezzee, what an arse. It’s a never-ending saga of entertainment when heads of government promote a person into a position of authority for which they are entirely unsuited (think Michael Gove, Boris Johnson, Kenneth Clarke and Teresa May) ‘cos we then get the spectacle of watching these people flounder around on the rocks of stupidity like a seal in stilettos, and the endless laughs this promotes. The singlemost appalling tragedy of course is that, whilst they are highly entertaining they are actually in charge of the department they are single-handedly reducing to a shambles…and being paid mega-bucks for the privilege too.
John Redwood was like that. A man I consider was entirely unsuitable even for control of a laser pointing stick he was put out to grass in the wilderness that was Wales…can the person who just said;
Still is
go and stand in the corner for the rest of the lesson, please…thank you…right, where was I? Oh, right, well, was put out to grass in the wilderness that was Wales where it was figured he would do little harm and yet show the caring face on Conservatism; yeah, right. Come his first big conference, in Cardiff I think it was, and the strains of the opening to the Welsh national anthem, complete with orchestra and Welsh Male Voice Choir, filled the hearts and hall of the staunchly proud conference attendees…
Ever seen the Welsh rugby team sing these lines of national pride and suffering at the opening of an international? I had the good fortune to see them play South Africa at their national stadium in…2004/5, I think, and I can say, hand on heart (as they did when they sang) that apart from the noise the players let out when they either tackle each other and are tackled (which is as frightening as it is awe-inspiring) that vocal rendition of Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau was the loudest thing emanating from that collection of muscle. With that in your mind you may well be thinking, well, what’s the prob? Mr. Redwood’s reedy tenor (coming out of that slight frame so reminiscent of the character of Ichabod Crane in the original cartoon of Sleepy Hollow starring, if memory serves, Bing Crosby as chief vox…far superior to whatshisname’s remake… Mr. Burton, that’s him, with Johnny Depp; brave try, but…) so, Mr. Redwood’s reedy tenor would have been safely drowned amongst the lusty singing of the fully-committed and highly nationalistic Welsh… welll, yeeesss…except…
What it was, you see, what happened see was there was  a mischievous cameraman/woman (he/she must have known beforehand; must’ve) who thought it would be a good thing to dwell on Mr. Redwood’s face throughout the anthem singing, you know, as in throughout? It gets worse. Mr. Redwood knew the camera was on him. It gets worse. He didn’t know the anthem as in at all; not a line, not a word, not a syllable: nothing. It gets worse. Like a roller-coaster on Barri Island, once that anthem had started there was no way it was going to stop until it reached the end; once you were on you were on… And so it was we are treated to the sight of a government minister – a member of a group of people who posit themselves as all-seeing, all-knowing founts of expertise and knowledge who always know best and have an answer for everything – the sight of a government minister mouthing shapes that bore not a scintilla of a connection with the words being sung by the people he was supposedly the champion for. All that history, all that bravery, all those national aspirations wrapped into the words of a song so dear to the hearts of those countrymen and women bound together by a single bond of fellowship… minus one. WaTP.
My guess is that, in other countries, he may well have been hung by his scrotum from the nearest lamppost for having the temerity to wear the cloak of representation for a country that had such a claim on its own identity and history, that were hopeful of having someone represent them and their claims in Westminster when, all along, they had a clot. There was no great hue-and-cry after that footage but you’ll be pleased to hear, from that moment on, his card was marked in the land of sheep and song and he faded from grace and favour quickly as his opinions on how best to reorganise Wales were studiously ignored. He’s been trying to rebuild his political credentials ever since and, thank goodness, failing miserably but then, once a poorly miming idiot, always a poorly miming idiot. Now, if he’d done that in the States…?
There’s a nation that takes its national anthem very, very seriously…as in very. It would seem that it’s sung at the start of almost every function, meeting, gathering, grouping of two or more people, school, sports stadium, bridge game…OK, that last was a bit OTT but only just. The words are ambiguous and lack the ability to stand up to scrutiny but it’s what they are, and those of that nation take the learning and repeating of them very much to heart, and woe betide anyone who fools around with that venerable institution…step forward Jose Feliciano.
Blind from birth, Mr. Feliciano carved out a name for himself as a prodigious musical talent producing 68 albums and 60+ singles, top twenty charting with over half of them and doing what is classed as the definitive cover version of The Doors hit, Light My Fire, in fact I consider it to be superior to The Doors version, but that’s not saying much as I always thought The Doors were crap. His philanthropic work has improved the lives of thousands over the years and his success, in spite of his handicap, has moved the visually impaired debate in America forward by leaps and bounds.
On this day in 2003, Mr. Feliciano reprised his original performance of Star Spangled Banner (SSB) at the opening of a Marlins and Cubs playoff game. I say reprised advisedly because, back in 1968, when the Vietnam War was raging and body-shaped luggage was arriving back in the States in double figures every day, Jose Feliciano had been invited to sing SSB at a Tigers and Cardinals World Series Game. He did a slow, Latin/jazz rendition, mournful and echoing of lost hopes and dreams by a nation steeped in a war for all the wrong reasons…criticism and controversy followed immediately. Radio stations refused to play any of his work and his career stalled for many years as the vindictive, God-loving, citizens of the good ’ole US took their revenge on someone they considered an immigrant (what the border employers in Texas, who used the cheap labour coming over from Mexico to the US illegally, referred to as wet-backs) an immigrant messing with their ode to a democratic country made up of fair-minded people.
I’d like to think, in the year following this first anthem rendition (1969) and with the controversy still raging in the U.S. that Britain’s refusal to allow Mr. Feliciano’s guide dog into the country because of our quarantine laws when he came to do his first tour here really was the reason, not some extension of vindictiveness we extended to our friends across the pond.
Thing is, I can’t help thinking, if that person had been, say, Mr. Blunkett instead of a Puerto Rican folk singer who had seen fit to put a different slant on a national symbol would the same disservice have been done to him?
p.s. Jose Feliciano later wrote a song about this first visit to London titled, No Dogs Allowed which charted in the Netherlands, so, bit of payback there…

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