Yoko Ono's 'Walking On Thin Ice' tops dance chart

"I think you just cut your first number one, Yoko," John Lennon remarked at the end of a recording of Yoko Ono's 'Walking On Thin Ice.'

Thirty-three years later a remix of the song has just topped the US Billboard hot dance song chart - giving Ono her 11th number one in that particular hit parade in recent years. A different remix of the song, also by New York-based DJ Danny Tenaglia, topped the dance chart in 2003.

The original recording was the last Lennon ever worked on. The night he was shot in December 1980 he and Ono had been in the studio putting the finishing touches to the track. Lennon added lead guitar to the track that evening.

While the current remix by Tenaglia has brought fresh prominence to the song - and introduced it to a new dance/club audience - a look back at the original shows what a striking track it was, and how Lennon and Ono were switching up creative gears.

A haunting quality permeates the song. The lyrics deal with life, death, and fate - and the edginess of the backing track accentuates the deep mood. As well as Lennon, some of the finest studio musicians of the time played on the track, including Hugh McCracken, Tony Levin, Earl Slick and Bermuda's Andy Newmark.

Ono directed a simple video (see above) for the song when it was released in early 1981. It includes home video of herself and Lennon relaxing by the waterside at their Long Island holiday home in early 1980. It was there, in Cold Harbor, that Lennon learned to sail shortly before venturing out on a 650-mile ocean crossing to Bermuda where he worked on, and refined, what became his final songs during a two-month vacation that summer.

The contemplative video also shows Ono wandering alone in New York and sitting on a bench in Central Park, which she and Lennon regularly visited. Ghostly, rapid-cut repeat image of mountains and an inland lake linger in the mind's eye long after the video ends.

Ono's track has stood the test of time. More than three decades after it was made, the original sounds fresh and contemporaneous. As a dance track, Tenaglia's club mix is good and has brought the track to the attention of a new audience. But the true beauty of 'Walking On Thin Ice' is found in the stark moodiness and majesty of the original.

Living in a world less busy

(Photo by Klaus/Wikimedia Commons)

There can’t be many writers who publish their first book aged 80. That is what Mary J MacLeod has done with ‘The Island Nurse’, a book I have been reading for the past few weeks. Her memories of living life as a nurse on a remote Scottish island more than 40 years ago made for a fascinating read.

In 1969 Mrs MacLeod and her husband George lived in the south of England. But they had become disillusioned with their way life and all its pressures. They wanted to live a life less cluttered and frantic.

They followed their dream and relocated with their young family to one of the remotest parts of the British Isles — the Hebridean islands off of Scotland’s northwest coast. It was a world apart from the life they knew. On the island Papavray (the island’s true identity is concealed to protect the privacy of those mentioned in the book) indoor toilets were still a luxury, while television was viewed with suspicion and even terror by some of the older residents.

Nurse Mrs MacLeod soon became entwined in the lives of the island people, getting to know their stories, their troubles, their joys — and a few secrets — as she and her family found themselves increasingly touched by the warmth of the remote community.

By the end of the book, the author refers to the many characters she met half-a-lifetime ago as ‘the dear, unique people who still live on that remote, rocky island’.

In ‘The Island Nurse’ (published in the US as ‘Call the Nurse’) Mrs MacLeod takes us on a journey that captures the nuances of island life. It is a touching memoir that traces many stories across the seasons of a year, from births and marriages, to tragedies and deaths. Keeping chapters short and fast-moving, Mrs MacLeod crams a remarkable number of vignettes and incidents into 300-odd pages.

In one chapter a window has to be removed to allow a bed-bound patient to be transported to a hospital, while there is a sinister reason behind a mysterious night-time rendezvous at a remote section of shore.

There are intricate portraits of her neighbours, and description of the hardships of island life. The author herself experiences some of those trials, including having the steering column of her car break on a remote mountain pass. She returns to her abandoned vehicle hours later to find a concerned islander has fashioned a temporary repair using sticky plasters that holds together until she gets her car home.

She joins the crofters one day sheep shearing high on the hillsides, where chatter, stories and jokes are shared, and sandwiches and Thermos drinks are consumed. As the bright afternoon turns to early evening Mrs MacLeod dallies, ensuring she is the last to leave the high vantage point. It gives her the opportunity to observe the village and the crofts far below. She writes: “Gradually, as the peace of the evening settled over the glen, I began to see little plumes of blue smoke rise from the chimneys as folk lit their fires. I listened — even distant voices had stilled, the hill was quiet once more, and I was left in the silent clamour of remembered noise.”

The author writes in a style that makes you feel you are right there, listening to the conversations as they happen and seeing the events unfold. When Mrs MacLeod turns her thoughts to her surroundings, she shows a talent for descriptive and evocative turns of phrase. The sea is “silver in owl-haunted moonlight”, while later in the year, as the evenings draw in, she drives along the island’s narrow, uneven roads “between small lochans with the brown peaty water winking at us in the failing light”.

A dozen or so islanders meet at a tiny croft for a ceilidh of drinking, unsophisticated entertainment, poems, songs, stories, jokes and reminiscing about “times gone by and people long dead’. Mrs MacLeod notes that once the small croft is full of people, and with a big peat fire generating heat in the fireplace, it soon becomes unbearably hot. “It seemed to me that ceilidhs were not ceilidhs unless everyone was perspiring freely by the end of the evening,” she writes.

Filled with stories that reflect the day-to-day lives of people far removed from the bustle of mainland towns and cities, Mrs MacLeod has impressively reflected the humour, warmth and culture that holds together these distant communities.

  The Island Nurse is published by Mainstream Publishing in the UK and Random House in the USA. 

Stormy morning in the middle of summer

A large storm system rolled across the Island yesterday, and for many hours it became stationary above this speck in the North Atlantic.

Having risen for breakfast I was aware of the gathering gloom outside - an unusual thing in summertime in Bermuda. Then the distant thunder began to boom, getting closer as it did.

Flashes of lightning soon danced behind the closed venetian blinds (I keep them closed in most rooms in the summer to deflect the sun's hot rays). As rain pitter-pattered against the windows I finished breakfast and looked outside. From horizon to horizon grey clouds filled the sky.

My daily run would have to wait. I returned to the bedroom to read a chapter or two of my current favourite read, Mary J MacLeod's 'The Island Nurse'. However, the dark clouds so successfully shut out the brightness of day that, even at 9am, I needed to switch on the room light to read my book.

For an hour or so I lay on the bed reading the book and listening to the storm battering away outside. But for the heat it could easily have been a winter's night in mid-summer.

The storm lasted all morning and stretched beyond midday before the rain finally switched itself off. I was then able to venture outside in the fresh, though mightily humid air - thankful for a pleasant piece of metrological variety to break up these long days of summer. And who doesn't like the experience of being comfortable at home, reading a book with a thunderstorm soundtrack beyond the walls and windows?

'Elysium' adds a new sci-fi peak to 2013

This year is turning out to be a particularly good one for sci-fi films that are more than just shoot-'em-up soap operas in space.

After the surprise of 'Oblivion' earlier in the year, the latest release 'Elysium' is another intelligent addition to the genre. It is well filmed, has some stunning special effects and carries an underlying social message.

Throw into the mix a well delivered menacing performance by Jodie Foster, and the equally menacing Sharlto Copley, and you have a movie treasure.

On a hot, sunny Sunday afternoon in Bermuda I ventured to the Southside Cinema to catch the just-released picture. I wasn't alone. The matinee showing was well attended, which is a good sign because I've often seen very sparse audiences at the 'way out east' cinema.

'Elysium' was directed by Neill Blomkamp, whose previous endeavour 'District 9' (2009) was also a much hailed sci-fi.

In 'Elysium' he creates a dystopian future where the inhabitants of Earth live in terrible poverty, in a polluted and overcrowded world, while the rich have fled to an orbiting space station filled with mansions, manicured lawns, swimming pools, and a healthcare system that eradicates illnesses and injuries.

The pace of the swirling story never drops, and cleverly builds to a climactic finale with plot twists to keep the viewer on edge.

There are some things that could have been done better. The hand-to-hand fighting scenes are confusingly filmed, and there are a few unlikely scenarios - such as the prevalence of USB technology in the year 2154. Also, lead actor Matt Damon could have done more to add a deeper dimension to his character Max. He gives a solid performance, but there was a real opportunity to humanise Max in the manner Carlton Heston achieved in 'Omega Man' (1971). Those who are familiar with 'Omega Man' will see shades of the Heston character arc shadowed in 'Elysium'

As I left the cinema I noticed many in the audience, like myself, appeared somewhat shell-shocked by the energetic two-hour movie ride that 'Elysium' had taken them on.

Both 'Elysium' and 'Oblivion' are strong contenders for best sci-fi film of the year.

Escaping from the digital haze

There was a time when we were not tied to computers for our daily newsfeeds, entertainment etc. When we did not carry cell phones or smartphones around in order to constantly check our emails and texts.

There was a time when switching off the television and walking out the front door meant, in most instances, disconnecting from the 'buzz' of modern life. Away from the landline telephone you became uncontactable. As weird as that sounds today, that was once the norm.

Nostalgia and rose-tinted glasses can play tricks, but I'm sure that is not the case when I state that the relatively unwired world of the recent past - and we are talking only 20 to 25 years ago at most - was a pleasant place to be.

At the time there was a freedom I took for granted. That freedom was being able to enjoy downtime from work, from social networks (a term that has come into its own in these internet days). 'Your time' could be appreciated and spent doing any number of activities, or even no activity.

Long walks or runs. Sitting and reading a newspaper from cover to cover, or a chapter of a book. Watching a sunrise or sunset.

Of course, all of the above can still be done. But if you are carrying a cell phone, as most of us do these days, you are forever aware of that portal to the electronic world being close at hand and demanding attention and checking.

Only on vacations do I manage to successfully break away from the digital world's umbilical cord. Although I have a cell phone, I switch it off and ignore it unless an emergency calls. I avoid computer terminals and the temptation to check emails.

It feels invigorating. It feels like reconnecting with a life - hearing birds chirping again, taking in my surroundings and appreciating just 'being'.

Day-to-day, away from vacation time, it is harder. Work life impinges on downtime much more, even if only through the habit of checking emails or missed calls.

But I still make time when I can to leave my cell phone at home and go wander for an hour or so, or sit in the great outdoors and feel the sun, or the breeze, against my skin and enjoy the freedom of escaping from the 21st century's digital haze. Those moments are a small window back to a less frantic existence, a small window that I aspire to expand.

Yoko Ono tops the US dance chart

Yoko Ono at 80 scored a number one hit on the US Dance Chart with 'Hold Me' - a new song written in collaboration with producer Dave Aude.

Yoko's energy is impressive and life-affirming. This song also shows that she continues to treasure her love for John Lennon.

When I first heard this track I was stunned by its vibrancy, but also by the words and the touching message they convey, all the more poignant for anyone who knows the John and Yoko backstory. In the video there is the image of the word 'yes', although it is not part of the lyric. The 'yes' is surely a nod in the direction of the first meeting between Yoko and Lennon at a London art gallery when Lennon climbed a stepladder to look through a magnifying glass at a word written on the ceiling which said 'yes'. The piece of installation art was Yoko's, and the fact that it was a 'positive' message pleased Lennon and led to the couple connecting and living their lives together.

Lennon believed that Yoko's musical output was ahead of its time. In 1980, when he heard The B52's 'Rock Lobster' playing inside a Bermuda nightclub he was struck by the similarities it had to Yoko's earlier recordings. He called her in New York to tell her the world had caught up and was ready for her music.

Well, it may have taken a further 30 years, but there is no doubt that Yoko's music is gaining the popular acclaim that Lennon foresaw. In the past five years a total of 10 Yoko tracks have hit the top of the US Dance Chart. They were reworked/mixed versions of older songs recorded by Yoko, until this year's 'Hold Me' which was specifically written as a dance track.

The thumping dance beat treatment blends well with Yoko's stark vocal delivery. At 80, Yoko recently said in an interview that she feels she is starting a new life. If she continues producing songs like this (and check out her involvement in son Sean's recent 'Don't Frack Me' environmental protest track), then long may this new musical lease of life continue.

Fond adieus Neal Butterworth

Neal Butterworth was a remarkable man. He was the editor of the Daily Echo in Bournemouth for 13 years, the first seven years of which I had the privilege of working with him.

A man of tremendous grace, wit, charisma and intelligence, Neal embodied all the finest qualities of journalism. Knowing that Neal was there, in charge, made it an actual pleasure to go to work each day. He had a way of making people feel wanted and appreciated and his good nature was infectious.

He was a leader and mentor of the highest calibre who valued his staff and created a sense of family within the entire newspaper team.

In all my years in the profession I have not known another individual with such genuine charisma, presence, insightful journalistic judgement and passion.

He gave me my break into daily newspapers, only a few months after he took over as editor of the Echo. In the years that followed I marveled at the way he led his team, showing he believed in them and their abilities and in doing so strengthening the bounds of friendship and loyalty.

With Neal there was a time for work and a time for play. At least once a year, and often twice a year, he would treat the staff to some 'downtime' outside the office where all departments were able to mingle, chat and let off steam in a congenial, friendly setting. That small gesture alone made Neal a special type of boss.

In all my time working with Neal, and in the few e-mail exchanges we had in the years after I had moved on from the Echo, I felt a true bond with a remarkable gentlemen. In positive ways I grew as a journalist, and more importantly as a person, from sharing so many years as a work colleague and friend of Neal. I learned much from simply observing him and the way he carried himself through life.

As he told me in the last communication we shared: "I've always been at pains to tell people that you only live once but if you do it right, once is enough."

When Neal died at 55 last month it was far too soon for someone who made the world a better place for so many. For me the great mentor is no longer there to speak to personally, however the magic of his life lives on in the memories and thoughts I hold for one of the finest boss-leader-mentor and friend I will likely come across.

Fond adieus Neal. You lived life right.