Return of the So(u)n(d) of Monster Magnet

Those readers who are parents - and I expect you would have noticed, one way or the other - will understand the next sentence; those who are not parents will have to take my word for it. There is nothing quite like the thrill of seeing your offspring perform, particularly if they're any good. The thrill is rather reduced, I'll admit, if they're awful and you have to pretend that they're any good. But, if you don't have to pretend, there's nothing quite like the swelling chest and "that's my boy!" sense which grips the proud parent, even if it's your daughter.

The Referee enjoyed such a moment last week at the school band winter concert, featuring the senior offspring in the percussion department.

Now, before you beat me to it, so to speak, I know as well as you do that the answer to the old joke "What do you call someone who hangs around with musicians?" is "A drummer", and perhaps there's something in that. But, it seems to me, the percussion department of a band or orchestra is quite a different matter. Percussionists have to play all types of drums, and other things that need to be hit, with sticks or otherwise, as well as things which actually have notes, like vibes - sometimes all in the same tune.

So, I watched with considerable pride as the senior boy furrowed his brow and hopped dextorously between instruments, pausing to glance at the conductor, or at fellow band members, before beating the cymbal into submission at precisely the right moment.

As I watched, and listened to the selection of classical pops and pop classics, it occured to me that I had heard something very similar before. I wracked my brain for a while and then, right in the middle of "We will rock you", it came to me. I turned to my wife and said "Peaches en regalia". She gave me that smile that wives give when they're hoping that you're about to go straight back into your own little world without bothering them any further.

But you, cultured reader, will no doubt have realised what my wife didn't immediately realise (until I expained it to her at length) - that I was referring to the legendary opening track of Frank Zappa's debut solo album after the demise of the Mothers of Invention: the seminal Hot Rats.

That's right. I had realised something of devastating musical importance that I had not realised before. Not that Zappa sounds like Queen - or even vice versa - he doesn't. What I realised was this: a large gathering of 5th graders who are just in the early stages of mastering their instruments but who nevertheless follow the conductor's instruction to belt out the classics with carefree gusto at the maximum possible volume sound almost exactly like a small band of virtuoso musicians playing incredibly complex arythmnical 1970s jazz/rock.

Now, you might take the view that this revelation doesn't really matter one way or the other. If that is the case, I'm afraid I can be of no further help to you.

On the other hand, you might realise the potential consequences of this near-scientific discovery, but simply have difficulty in believing it to be true. I have some sympathy with that latter response and, in the interests of science, I offer the following assistance. Come with me, if you will, into the land of interactive blog experimentation...

Which is not quite as scary as it sounds. All you have to do is follow these 3 steps:

1. First, look at the lovely photo above of the band in action.

2. Play, as loud as possible, and preferably out of some speakers near your computer, the tune "Peaches en regalia". Unfortunately, if for some unfathomable reason this wonderful track doesn't already feature in your collection, you won't find it in i-Tunes, which features shamefully little by way of the huge FZ back catalogue. This means, for the benefit of those under 21, that you would have to go into a shop and hand over some cash in exchange for one of those thin plastic music boxes.

3. To complete the effect, hold your computer a few inches above the desk and shake it vigorously in time - if you can! - with the crazy rythmn.

I rest my case.

May you never become a Dancin' Fool, nor be struck unexpectedly by Cosmik Debris.

How Green Was My January?

Yesterday in New York it was 68F (or 20C for those of you reading this in Europe). On the 6th of January. Or January 6th, as the preposition-shy Americans prefer it.

In case you didn't catch that - perhaps you were distracted by a thing, as they like to say in The West Wing - let me run it past you again. In New York, on 6 January, it was 68F.

What is going on? Normally at this time of year, New Yorkers remark on the weather only if it rises above freezing, and tend to spend most of January wearing furry ear warmers and (at least in the suburbs) looking for good places to go sledging.

This year, on the other hand, something strange is happening. A high of 68F makes yesterday the warmest 6 January in recorded New York history. Or it was the warmest January day ever recorded. Or both. Or neither. No, hang on - not neither.

What's more, we have had no snow at all so far this winter. This is very unusual. In fact, it's the latest New York has gone without snow since 1878. Which, the New York Times pointed out yesterday, was before the arrival of the Statue of Liberty, and before NYC existed in the sense of comprising the five boroughs as it does today (see my message of 18 September 2006).

(Which reminds me that the Statue of Liberty is only a short-hand informal way of referring to the famous landmark. What is it's official title? Answers via the comment button, please. When I say "button", I don't mean "button" in the sense of... Oh, never mind.)

In response to the question "What is going on?", some people answer: "Nothing". These people must be avoided. They are dangerous lunatics. These people appear to believe that we should not admit that the climate is changing because, if we do, we'll have to try to do something about it and, as soon as we make any efforts in that direction, everyone in the world will instantly lose their job and/or go out of business. I exaggerate somewhat for emphasis, but you get the general idea.

The problem with this argument is that most of us, if we are honest, and over about 20 years old, can tell from our own experience that things have changed since we were younger, even without drawing up historical charts, or waving a sock in the air, or whatever else it is that meteorologists do.

And, once we have agreed that things are changing, the next logical question is "Why?". Is there a serious chance that the answer has nothing to do with human behaviour? About the same chance, I estimate, that the whole thing is an evil plot for world domination hatched by Little Jimmy Krankie. (Americans will need to ask a passing Brit about this reference. On second thoughts, don't bother.)

Which brings me to one of the cinematic highlights of 2006, Weird Al Yankovic's fascinating dental/meteorological documentary, An Incontrovertible Tooth. If you haven't seen it, see it.

Is everything presented in the film necessarily accurate and/or directly relevant to the weird things which appear to be happening to our climate? I don't know. What I do know is that a documentary about a middle-aged politician giving a lecture about the weather had no right to be that gripping or entertaining.

Regardless of your view on the thorny issue of climate change, anyone who has seen his film will have to admit that Mr Yankovic is (i) intelligent, (ii) articulate, and (iii) a man with something to say.

As they like to say over here, "Go figure". Whatever that means.

Happy New Year('s).