Tuesday, 16 June 2009

The moon in June

Fame, fame, fatal fame, sang that other great rock star of British-Irish pedigree. (He of the 'Irish blood, English heart'.) It has been said, quite correctly, that the starmaking process demands a burst of collective hysteria; the nocturnal tigers- the sharks and snakes of the music industry- perform their part by sourcing, and sprucing, the candidates. But the motive part of the rite, the mysterious energy which powers it, is the work of the crowd, the mob: the lover to the beloved. The birth of the star is a triumph of collective will; a coronation quite impossible in the absence of mutual consent.

It is also a shared delusion: a suspension of disbelief, an act of faith. A priestly compact, with solemn obligations binding both players in the game. The star must be ready to behave like one: ritual acts- like a Gallagher V-sign- that tap a faintly masochistic desire, the need to be ruled. But the order of things is not eternal, resting as it does on a magical concord: a matrix of ideas, not immune from the threat of radical configuration. And when that occurs- as we are seeing, for example, in Iran- the narrative can turn surreal very quickly. The hanging tree, wicker man, Madame Guillotine: from history and myth are drawn these profound symbols of the destiny of the unrighteous king (like Ahab, left unburied for dogs to devour.) But there are certain duties incumbent upon the subject, also: the fan- the greatest of which is to Love.

There are those who take this injunction very seriously indeed (as every Morrissey fan knows. To join that august brotherhood requires a restraining order at least.) It is not unconditional; that Love may be witheld, or transmuted into an act of exquisite regicide should the star fail in his duties of office. (An act which is itself one of love, love for the spirit now seen to have departed from its vessel.) Like the birth of a child, a marriage, the coronation of a ruler or the election of a president, the star is legitimized, is cast adrift in a storm- a sea- of love and goodwill (as terminology recognises: the 'baby shower', the political 'honeymoon'.) The pedigree of the latter, indeed, is ancient and heady: derived from the traditional name for the full moon before the summer solstice, the Honey Moon, 'the moon in June'. (Which fell this year on the seventh.)

So here we are again in those Geminian days, and the mob and its prey are once more entwined in an act of ecstatic communion: the acclamation of its latest (unlikely) queen. And in Susan Boyle we have one in whom the work is so easy to complete... A woman who seems to have been gripped temporarily by the Queen of Love herself.

The nova- when it happens- is an extraordinary thing. For Bob Dylan, for example, the experience seems to have been one of almost uninterrupted terror: drawing far closer to Golgotha than the reluctant prophet was willing to travel. Boyle's rise is unlikely to be so dramatic; but whatever force it is that directs these operations (what Stephen King called 'IT') has done so with typical attention to detail. The timing is impeccable: the Honey Moon (when the handfasters drank mead, an aphrodisiac made from fermented honey) is a season of beauty, fairies... and for 'dreaming dreams'. (The Oberon and Titania of Shakespearean imagination.)

It is also, writes Laurence Gardner, when the god and goddess 'display their treasures'- the spear and cauldron which are the symbols of their rulership, 'equivalent to the blade and chalice of the Grail tradition'. And this is very fitting; for Boyle's other great anthem (a song with which she seems oddly uncomfortable) is Memory, a complex lyric based on lines by one of the greatest of modern experts in Grail lore and legend: T.S Eliot. (The mid-century flower of a stream which erupts periodically: in the Arthurian revival of the nineteenth century- the work of Tennyson, Rossetti, and the artists Beardsley and Burne-Jones; and in the Romantic movement of fifty years previously, to cite just two fairly recent examples.) Indeed, it was in recent performances of this song, this Grail anthem- and not her now ubiquitious signature tune- that the apotheosis of the 'moon-faced' Susan Boyle was at its most apparent... As we shall shortly discover.

The Empire never Ended... More to follow...


Semele said...

These are notable times astrologically in general: the triple Jupiter/Neptune/Chiron conjunction in Aquarius; Venus and Mars together in sensual Taurus; and the upcoming solstice and new moon in Cancer - feminine, lunar powers are about to be activated...

Interestingly (?), SuBo's Mars, the masculine planet of lust and war, is exactly conjunct the USA's Sun at 13 degrees in Cancer - why that country has helped 'sex her up'? Alas, her natal Venus is retrograde and she has Chiron in her 10th house, suggesting that she would find publicity difficult to deal with.

But my problem is that Dylan, Morrissey, even the Neanderthalish Gallaghers, had time to develop their talents and hone their fame-coping skills; this privilege is not granted to talent show participants. And how many of them last? Only Will Young on this side of the pond has had any degree of significant, enduring success.

Most of all, it needs to be remembered that SuBo suffers from well-documented learning difficulties, and clearly has more than her fair share of emotional ones, too.

She may have wanted fame for a long time (or at least thought she did), but it's not necessarily good for her.

Newspaceman said...

Hiya Ben, have you read


I think Gardner copied him ?

Oasis were here on Thursday, Roseburn Primary was closed.

Boyle too performed in Edinburgh, Tuesday I think. Her home town got turned over for Class A's big style the week after she "made it" big. Operation Focus.

Have you loked up the two UFO incidents, Bob Taylor and the A70 yet. Close to Blackburn.


Ben Fairhall said...

Not yet, Brian, no... Would you mind chucking a few links to those events up on here?

Great to hear from you, as always.

Newspaceman said...

Hiya Ben A70:


I only mention it because I know the area well and years ago, I heard one of the gentlemen on the radio talking about it (the other wont) and he sounded well sincere.

The Bob Taylor, Dechmont, one is right beside me (1 mile) and sounds most convincing too, especially so becuase of him, that his dog appeared petrified, and with the police involvment etc.


Both areas are close to Bonnybridge (ufo hotspot)


and, maybe more importantly, Cairnpapple.


Blackburn(Susan Boyle)is not far away but I doubt aliens would visit, unless looking for poor quality drugs and/or a fight