Thoughts in Progress

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post in which I encouraged people to choose life, love and, amongst other things, empathy. I have always seen empathy as one of the more difficult human traits to show, and to feel as well. It requires a sort of trade-off and giving up. But when it works, empathy enhances the human experience.

When it works…

A few days after I wrote that post I read an interview in the magazine New Humanist. The interview was conducted by writer and broadcaster Kenan Malik. The interviewee was Paul Bloom, a psychologist at Yale University. The subject? Paul’s latest book, Against Empathy. Oh, dear.

The capacity to imagine ourselves in another person’s place and understand their feelings is a powerful tool for social and political change. What could be wrong with that?

A lot, if the intentions are not clear. Paul Bloom dispels some of the myths surrounding empathy and in the process produces a cogent argument as to why this very human trait is somewhat overrated. The empathy in Paul’s sights is not the general type, like identifying oneself with another person’s plight. His beef is rather with those who believe they are feeling what other people are feeling.

The extensive checklist Paul presents as evidence to back up his thinking starts with the Syrian child washed up ashore in 2015 and whose photo caused much anger and revulsion around the world. However, despite this outpouring of grief, the situation for refugees arriving in Europe has not improved. In fact, it has actually got worse. The reason, according to Mr Bloom, is that while we can empathise with an innocent child caught up in a deadly conflict like the Syrian one, we show less compassion towards an adult who, in our view, can fend for her or himself.

This leads us to Paul’s second conclusion: empathy is biased. Once I got over my initial shock, I was able to see his point and I found myself nodding in agreement. Because it is almost nigh on impossible to empathise with every single person in the world, We discriminate against those who deserve our empathy and those who do not. Into that selection go our prejudices and judgments.

I must stress at this point that although the tone of Paul Bloom’s theory might come across as negative, the examples he gives are not. Like many human traits, empathy is triggered off unconsciously and spontaneously. It is also influenced by external factors such as, culture, upbringing and education.

When Bob “give us yer f*****g money” Geldoff organised the first Live Aid concert to raise funds for the African famine in Ethiopia he did not invite any African musicians. He managed to rope in the likes of Queen and Status Quo but there was no Miriam Makeba or Hugh Masekela. Personally I have no problem with him empathising with the plight of that African nation; it is the lack of rational thinking that made me cross. You sit at a table to plan out the concert and you decide to leave African musicians out of a concert on behalf of an African nation? This approach to what I would call “selective empathy” is what makes us feel more compassionate towards victims of terrorism in a European nation than towards those killed by a suicide bomber in a packed market in Bagdad or Kabul.

One of the reasons why this happens is that many western countries still operate with a colonial mindset. I have had the misfortune of being at the receiving end of this most annoying behaviour. Whether you sit on the left or the right of the political spectrum the odds are that your empathy-led charitable act will be rooted in attitudes that have long preceded you and which you might not even recognise as yours at all.

Solidarity campaigns, fund-raising initiatives. These are all well-intentioned, practical ways to support those in distress. However, it is not ungrateful to ask for some long-term vision. Who will benefit more from that project, the person you are trying to help or you? Many times programmes aimed at alleviating the suffering of a particular community in a war-torn country backfire because the focus is on areas where resources are not really needed. Yet, because empathy is the main driver in the project we tend to stop using our brain and start using our heart instead. Just to clarify, there is nothing wrong with using our heart when it comes to supporting those most in need. But our brain also is a fundamental part in the process. So, I will rephrase what I wrote two weeks ago: choose empathy, but also choose using your brain.



© 2017

Next Post: “Urban Diary”, to be published on Wednesday 14^th June at 6pm (GMT)

Killer Opening Songs (By the Way - Red Hot Chilli Peppers)

As a band, how do you follow one of your more commercially successful records? With a Killer Opening Song in your next album. In the case of Red Hot Chilli Peppers, how do you follow the highly commercially successful Californication? With By the Way, the title track of the Chillie’s eighth studio album.

Taking its cue from the blog author’s latest post about his road trip to Brighton with his son, K.O.S. dusted off one of the most emblematic tunes of RHCP’s repertoire. In the case of By the Way a huge responsibility was placed on its shoulders. As the title track AND the Killer Opening Song it was the bait to lure both Chillies and non-Chillies fans into the record. Luckily the melody pulled it off. From John Frusciante’s furious, opening guitar notes to lead singer Anthony Kiedis’ energetic vocals, By the Way combines RHCP’s high octane mix of funk and alternative rock.

It is also the key that unlocks a musical treasure-trove. Universally Speaking is pure emotion. The official clip for The Zephyr Song is visually striking. Can’t Stop credits its inspiration to the enigmatic and thought-provoking Austrian artist Erwin Wurm.

Centre to all this musical prowess is the Killer Opening Song. And a key part to it was guitarist John Frusciante who had returned to the Chillies in time for the recording of their hugely successful album Californication (another gem of a K.O.S. there, too with Around the World, but instead of a guitar riff at the start there’s bassist Flea doing what he does best: bringing the house down). Frusciante’s well-known drug problems kept him away from RHCP for a few years but after successfully completing a rehab programme he was welcomed back by his three compadres. The result was an album that, you could say, book-ended the Chillies’ most prosperous period, Californication in 1999 together with 1991’s Blood Sugar Sex Magic which K.O.S. used to play so often that the tape finally gave up one day (remember tapes?).

The link to Californication (the song) goes deeper as the lyrics in By the Way suggest a continuum to the “teenage bride with a baby inside/getting high on information” mentioned in the former track. In By the Way she becomes “Dani, the girl”, who “is singing songs to me/beneath the marquee”. In 2006’s Stadium Arcadium Dani California is a “lover baby and a fighter”.

Cryptic lyrics, powerful and melodic guitar riffs, excellent vocals. In this context one could see By the Way as the musical harbinger of what the noughties would herald for Red Hot Chilli Peppers. All thanks, once more, to the Killer Opening Song.

© 2014

Next Post: “Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music”, to be published on Sunday 4^th May at 10am (GMT)

Greatest Hits - Track 9

This week I've decided to resurrect a post that first came out in March 2008. And as Cerys counsels in the last clip below (top to bottom), to me holidays, amongst other activities, are about getting some peace of mind. Enjoy. Yup, still away.


Thursday 6th March. 8.30am. A street in London. I am driving the children to school. My wife's gone to Italy with Creative Partnerships and it's up to me to do the school run whilst she is away. I roll down the car window to let in some air, just a couple of inches, mind, and then it hits me. Spring's here. Well, almost.

It's a bright morning and the British birds' Commonwealth anthem is at full blast. Their singing accompanies the fluttering of wings. They look so busy, building or re-building their nests up in eaves.

The morning wind caresses my face. It is not a warm breeze yet, oh, no, but it is not a freezing one either. It is a chilly air, pleasant enough for me to withstand its strokes with a smile on my face. Outside, kids rush to school, cars zoom past, buses cut in in front of me. But inside, I am radiating the type of energy which, if discovered, could see me persecuted by countless thugs trying to patent it and sell it.

Streets curve seductively out of sight, houses stand tall and proud with binding ivy weaving its way around the building and people go to work carrying their sandwiches and newspapers, some of them with ciggies in hand.

On days like these, I remain silent and let the music in the car do the talking.

What if Dylan was booed during this performance at the Newport Festival? Try listening to this song with the wind sneaking into the car early in the morning and giving you that pleasant, mirthful feeling that everything is going to turn out all right, because you know what? I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more. Everytime this track comes on, my fingers work out a drumbeat on the steering wheel and the whole car merrily swings side to side. Poetic.



I have referred previously on this blog to my need sometimes to have a song telling a story playing in the car. And this track, composed by the Argentinian pop singer Juan Carlos Baglietto about God and the Devil working together in a workshop, fits me like a glove. A real jewel. Magnífico.



Many times I catch myself humming a song with political or social undertones in the car. Not surprisingly, more often than not it is a track by Maestro Stevie. This belongs to an era when musicians were allowed to roam free unencumbered by commercial pressures or record sales. Nostalgic.



In this song, as soon as the guitar kicks in, the car window goes down and my hands relax their grip on the steering wheel. No need for introduction here. Majestic.



Do not be fooled by the title of this track. There's no ire in this song, it's just about how we should all take it easy in life and days like these inspire me to follow Cerys' edict. Husky.



© 2008

Next Post: Greatest Hits - Track 10 , to be posted on Sunday 22nd August at 10am (GMT)

Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music, Ad Infinitum...

What I love about this dish is the comfort it brings to my soul. The combination of chorizo and cayenne pepper is one spicy duet that I can never say no to. And now that autumn is about to forsake us until next year (cue tears) and winter is finally making its presence known, I need this type of cozy dish to keep me warm during these long cold nights.

Pinto bean, black bean and chorizo soup courtesy of Allegra McEvedy in The Guardian

75g dried pinto beans
75g dried black turtle beans
250g good-quality raw chorizo sausages
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp cayenne pepper
1 red pepper, medium diced
3 cloves of garlic, sliced
1 medium red onion, thinly sliced
1 x 400g tin of tomatoes
1-1.5l chicken stock
1/5 savoy cabbage, chopped
A big handful of coriander, chopped
Salt and pepper

Soak the pinto and black turtle beans in cold water overnight. Next day, drain them, cover them with fresh water and cook them in their own pots. Cook them all the way through but not to total collapse. Dice the chorizo into medium cubes and get your oil warming in a deep, thick saucepan. Sizzle the chorizo until it has browned and that red oil starts to seep out but beware: the golden brown sausage and lustrous red oil can quickly turn to brown-black in an instant if the heat is too high.

Stir in your spices, red pepper, garlic and onion; turn the heat up a bit and cook until translucent and all well mingled together. Season with sea salt.

Add the tomatoes, let it all burble together for around 10 minutes, then add a litre of stock and reduce on a well-maintained simmer for 20 minutes.

Drain the beans, keeping about half a litre of the cooking liquor, and then stir the beans, liquor and the cabbage in well. Cook for another 20 minutes, letting the soup simmer down to a pleasing thickness, and turn off the heat for a bit of a rest. Give it five minutes with a lid on to let the flavours settle.

Check the seasoning and consistency, letting it down with the remaining stock if you fancy, and stir in the chopped coriander before serving.

• Extracted from Leon: Ingredients and Recipes, by Allegra McEvedy, published by Conran Octopus.

Image taken from Roshani's website.

Playlist to go with this dish:

Breaking the Girl-Red Hot Chili Peppers

Police and Thieves- Juno Marvin

Lisa Loeb - Stay (I Missed You)

Maxwell - This Woman's Work

Corinne Bailey Rae- Put Your Records On

Jose Feliciano - Ain't No Sunshine

Road Songs (Presto)

Sun is shining, the weather is sweet

Make you want to move your dancing feet

To the rescue, here I am

Want you to know ya, where I stand

(Monday morning) here I am

Want you to know just if you can

(Tuesday evening) where I stand

(Wednesday morning) tell myself a new day is rising

(Thursday evening) get on the rise a new day is dawning

(Friday morning) here I am

(Saturday evening) want you to know just

Want you to know just where I stand

When the morning gathers the rainbow

Want you to know I'm a rainbow too

So, to the rescue here I am

Want you to know just if you can

Where I stand, know, know, know, know, know

We'll lift our heads and give JAH praises

We'll lift our heads and give JAH praises, yeah

Sun is shining, the weather is sweet now

Make you want to move your dancing feet

To the rescue, here I am

Want you to know just if you can

Where I stand, know, know, know, where I stand

Monday morning, scoo-be-doop-scoop-scoop

Tuesday evening, scoo-be-doop-scoop-scoop

Wednesday morning, scoo-be-doop-scoop-scoop

Thursday evening, scoo-be-doop-scoop-scoop

Friday morning, scoo-be-doop-scoop-scoop

Saturday evening, scoo-be-doop-scoop-scoop

So to the rescue, to the rescue, to the rescue

Awake from your sleep and slumber

Today could be your lucky number

Sun is shining and the weather is sweet

Sun is Shining

Bob Marley

You know what? Sometimes I just fancy driving around this beautiful city with the car windows rolled down whilst listening to some top-class music. Simple as that.

Copyright 2008

Road Songs (Sonata)

Thursday 6th March. 8.30am. A street in London. I am driving the children to school. My wife's gone to Italy with Creative Partnerships and it's up to me to do the school run whilst she is away. I roll down the car window to let in some air, just a couple of inches, mind, and then it hits me. Spring's here. Well, almost.

It's a bright morning and the British birds' Commonwealth anthem is at full blast. Their singing accompanies the fluttering of wings. They look so busy, building or re-building their nests up in eaves.

The morning wind caresses my face. It is not a warm breeze yet, oh, no, but it is not a freezing one either. It is a chilly air, pleasant enough for me to withstand its strokes with a smile on my face. Outside, kids rush to school, cars zoom past, buses cut in in front of me. But inside, I am radiating the type of energy which, if discovered, could see me persecuted by countless thugs trying to patent it and sell it.

Streets curve seductively out of sight, houses stand tall and proud with binding ivy weaving its way around the building and people go to work carrying their sandwiches and newspapers, some of them with ciggies in hand.

On days like these, I remain silent and let the music in the car do the talking.

What if Dylan was booed during this performance at the Newport Festival? Try listening to this song with the wind sneaking into the car early in the morning and giving you that pleasant, mirthful feeling that everything is going to turn out all right, because you know what? I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more. Everytime this track comes on, my fingers work out a drumbeat on the steering wheel and the whole car merrily swings side to side. Poetic.



I have referred previously on this blog to my need sometimes to have a song telling a story playing in the car. And this track, composed by the Argentinian pop singer Juan Carlos Baglietto about God and the Devil working together in a workshop, fits me like a glove. A real jewel. Magnífico.



Many times I catch myself humming a song with political or social undertones in the car. Not surprisingly, more often than not it is a track by Maestro Stevie. This belongs to an era when musicians were allowed to roam free unencumbered by commercial pressures or record sales. Nostalgic.



In this song, as soon as the guitar kicks in, the car window goes down and my hands relax their grip on the steering wheel. No need for introduction here. Majestic.



Do not be fooled by the title of this track. There's no ire in this song, it's just about how we should all take it easy in life and days like these inspire me to follow Cerys' edict. Husky.



© 2008

Autumn Songs (Andante)

Autumn Sun has a peculiarity that it's not hard to discern. It's a cheat. You look through the window thinking that you can still wear that sleeveless T-shirt, left over from a summer that never was, only to find that Autumn Sun has other ideas in mind. It shines, yes, but coldy. Sometimes I feel its gaze on my bare legs whilst I'm on my bike and can actually hear it sniggering behind my back.

Autumn Sun reminds me of desert Sun. Not that I've ever been to a desert in my life before. But I recently read a book whose action took place in the desert. The book was rubbish, but the description of the Sahara was both poetic and inviting. If only the author had left the cliches out. And this idea led to another one, that of the blues. According to some experts the blues, that quintessential American product of early 20th century came via the griots, West African troubadours, mainly in the regions of Senegal and Mali, who entertained people whilst at the same time telling tales. some of them of a contemporary nature. In that sense, Ali Farka Toure (RIP), is the ultimate singer, narrator and in this following clip he also extemporises his views on Black Americans. Some food for thought here.

My second clip this week is yet another contradiction, but please, bear with me on this one. The beginning of the video shows the Chillies by a beach in the warm, early-morning Californian sun. And yet, to me it sums up what is great about the transition between summer and autumn. Maybe because of my Cuban blood but the atmosphere in the clip reminds me of late night/early mornings sitting on the Malecón, Havana, with a group of friends, with a guitar and a bottle of rum. October and November in Cuba have that special melancholy feeling of lethargy, idly sitting around a guy who can't sing and can barely play the guitar, but who knows the whole repertoire of Silvio Rodríguez and Pablo Milanés. And that's enough, you don't care. Like here, you don't care. The surfers, you don't care. The boat mooring on the beach. You don't care. And that's what autumn is to me. Care-free Sunday mornings soaking up the misty Autumn Sun through the bedroom window. Breathe it in, folks! And enjoy the video.

My third choice this week comes courtesy of Mssrs Miles Davies and John Coltrane. The sound of jazz is the sound of autumn, or viceversa. Its crisp, clear notes sound like the crunchy leaves we tread on as we walk. And having these two maestros together is a relic from the distant past that we must dig out and listen to just like that old sleeveless woolie vest you insist on wearing over your shirt or blouse as soon as the first October winds announce autumn's arrival.





And that's all we have time for today. Expect some flamenco to come your way next week, plus a little bit of fado, a rhythm whose middle name is 'Autumn' and as the nights grow longer and the days shorter, my dear readers/posters/fellow bloggers, I think that Marisa's soothing voice will become our companion for the next six months, or so.


Copyright 2007