On free trade and on being persuasive (and unpersuasive)

Madsen Pirie at the Adam Smith Institute blog, also quoted at greater length by Alex at the Globalisation Institute blog:

The reason for optimism is this. One senses the end of an era, as protectionism collapses into a mass of contradictions and absurdities. From the current shambles people are learning that free trade tends to get the goods produced by those who do it best, and we all become richer as a result. It is also easier than trying to micro-manage. Perhaps those who learn will include Mr Mandelson, who is also a very good learner.

Let’s hope so.

I get the feeling here that Madsen Pirie actually knows Peter Mandelson, that Peter Mandelson actually knows Madsen Pirie, that Peter Mandelson might actually read that, and that it might actually help to change his mind.

Far too much “propaganda” is just bombastic name-calling of the sort that hasn’t a prayer of changing the mind of the man being criticised. The text is: You fool! But the sub-text is: He’ll never actually listen to me, (a) because no one important listens to me, and/because (b) I am too much of a fool. For a thousand examples you need look no further than the political, “Bliar” (how I despise that word) type comments on Samizdata.

The Madsen Pirie quote above is the opposite of all that drivel.

(By the way I am not trying to persuade such commenters to mend their ways with what I am saying here. I am trying to persuade you not to imitate them. You are persuadable and worth persuading. They are not and not. Although, come to think of it, if you denounce a class of people as idiots, rather than picking on one of them by name, maybe you will persuade some of the idiots to leave the herd and mend their ways and become ex-idiots. So maybe I am trying to persuade these idiots to mend their ways. Yes.)

The technological comments on Samizdata are quite different and frequently superb. See, e.g., some of the comments attached to this posting about nanotechnology that I did there last week.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

Douglas Jardine and Spike Milligan

I see that BBC4 TV is showing a programme about the late Spike Milligan tonight. In fact I have just started watching it. So far it has been a parade of dreary Milligan relatives who I do not want to know about.

It so happens that I was having Spike Milligan thoughts myself today, without any such TV provocation.

My Milliganic thoughts were prompted by a little piece they did during the lunch interval of the C4 TV coverage of the Ashes Test Match (England 229-4 after a rain interrupted first day) about the notorious Bodyline Tour of 1932, the one where England bowled short and nasty balls at Don Bradman.

In particular, they showed some clips of the notorious England captain on that tour, Douglas Jardine, pictured on the right. Jardine had a long, thin face, and a mouth which, like Milligan’s, did not go all that far sideways. Jardine also had a way of talking that combined pomposity, slowness (as if talking to a foreigner), and fear of the camera, which you could see in his darting and nervous eyes. I swear Milligan must have watched this, because many of his upper class twit routines were just like this. Voice, manner, nuances, everything. Maybe all posh people talked like that on camera in those days, but it wouldn’t surprise me a bit to learn that Mlligan paid particular attention to Jardine.

See also the two further – extremely Milliganic – pictures of Jardine at the other end the above link.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

Lady photographer doing it in the road

Blatant quota posting, in the form of an intriguing little photography scene right near where I live, in Vincent Square, this afternoon, as I was walking home. Many is the time I have taken photos through those railings, often of things like the sun on the Wheel, or of Big Ben which can be seen above and beyond the cricket pavilion (which you can just see on the top left here) on the far side of the square.

I like how the Vincent Square sign is included. This is the exact picture I took, no cropping, even though I don’t remember giving any thought to that sign. I think it was just luck.

Click to get it bigger.

I like the shoes that the ladies are each wearing.

More opportunist photography from me here. I took that picture only minutes before taking this one.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

Moths with cameras

How cool/scary is this?

It’s a spy plane:

The Wasp air vehicle has a 13-inch wingspan and weighs 6 ounces.

As the long haired Young One would say: heavy man.

I got to this via Lynn S and whoever this guy is.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

Home movies are getting better

Interesting Times piece about how editing software helped a wedding film nerd turn his wedding video footage into something that the people in it actually enjoyed watching.

The amateurs are creeping up on the professionals. Cheap editing software is already good enough to threaten the professionals. Soon the cheap cameras will be too.

As David Carr said (in 1998): DIY Hollywood.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

Benjamin Nabarro and the Belmont Ensemble

Last night I and some friends attended a concert given by the Belmont Ensemble of London, in St Martin-in-the-Fields, which is the splendid and beautifully decorated early eighteenth century church at the top right corner of Trafalgar Square.

It was one of those concerts of baroque and not long after string orchestra favourites, of the sort that only the public has much fondness for. Bach Brandenburg 3, Mozart Divertimento K137, Pachelbel Canon, Mozart Adagio and Fugue, Bach Double Violin Concerto, and in the second half Handel Arrival of Queen of Sheba, and finally Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

The first half was excellent. Sometimes the accoustics at classical concerts make it sound as if someone has turned up the treble knob, which is the opposite of what I do at home. But in St Martin’s, the accoustic is very echo-y and forgiving, and provided you play in tune, which these young string players all did with only very rare deviations, you will sound pretty good. Also, the conductor, Peter Gilbert-Dyson, clearly knows what he is about. He chose good tempi, and kept things bowling along well. His orchestra is not called the Belmont Ensemble for nothing.

In part one, it was the Adagio of the Mozart Adagio and Fugue which had the most impact for me, partly because it is an amazing piece of music, and partly because of all the pieces played in the concert, it was one I knew least well. What weird harmonies. I will now dig out whatever CDs I have of this extraordinary piece and will definitely be listening to this piece again very soon.

Nevertheless, part one had a strange feel to it. It had me thinking that posh music-making has finally come full circle and we are back to the age when classical musicians are domestic servants. The Great Recordings of all this music have all been made. The Great Conductors who presided over these recordings have come and gone. The Belmont Ensemble either cuts its own CDs and sells them for a fiver in the foyer to friends, to relatives, and to CD-maniacs like me, or they don’t. Those are their recording choices. Otherwise serving up classical hits, for tourists who clap after first movements, and for the aging Classic FM listening middle classes, is about all there is. Being the best of their generation is no longer enough, because there have now been too many generations.

Actually they were charging a tenner for their CDs, which is twice as much as the LSO charges for theirs and a quid more than what the LSO charges for its SACDs. Which might explain why they have only made three CDs so far and why the last one they made was recorded in the mid-nineties. A tenner is too much. No doubt there are all manner of complicated reasons, involving the phrase “business model”, why they can’t charge only a fiver, but I repeat: a tenner is twice too much.

So in other words, part one of this concert, although expertly played, got me thinking about the History of Music. My mind wandered somewhat. These people were the hired help. They were good at being the hired help, and performed their duties with an expertise that was beyond criticism, certainly from the likes of me. But, it was all ever so slightly routine.

This air of expert routineness was only reinforced by the Bach Double Violin Concerto, the last piece played in part one. One of my friends grumbled about some poor tuning from the lady leader of the orchestra, Anna Bradley, who stepped up to play the second violin part in this, but she sounded fine to me. Having fallen in love in my teens with the Oistrakh DGG recording of this I was ready to be severely unimpressed, but I enjoyed this performance a lot. It is extraordinary music and Ms. Bradley, joined by first violinist Benjamin Nabarro, played it very well. Good speeds. Well conducted. No bum notes that I could spot. None of that authentic crap, where you overdo the first note in each bar, swallow the rest, and play everything too fast. Lovely.

The first violinist, Benjamin Nabarro, wearing a dark shirt with no tie and with the top button undone, played excellently, but I kept thinking how he might have looked dressed as an eighteenth century servant, scraping away for a humble living in the service of the Elector of Somewhereburg. He is a short fattish bloke with a beard, who looked more like one of these people who come to mend your computer or your sink than any sort of virtuoso violinist. A Hobbit. Twenty years ago, such a chap would have made a decent living in an orchestra, maybe even a decent career as a soloist. Fifty years ago, he might have been a household name. As it is, history has passed him by. Life is unfair, and playing the fiddle this cleverly counts for extremely little nowadays. In ten years Benjamin Nabarro will be exactly what he is now, Benjamin Who? That’s how it seemed to me.

Until, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons got under way. With that, everything changed.

The Four Seasons is one of those pieces that is often underrated by the experts, because it is so popular. I agree with the public that it is by far Vivaldi’s best set of pieces. Something about the challenge of depicting the unpredictabilities of the weather, instead of just writing a bunch of concertos, seemed to stir Vivaldi’s creative juices. Unlike that Bach concerto, the Four Seasons features many abrupt changes of tempo and mood, and numerous oppportunities for both the soloist and the orchestra to create different moods and atmospheres. It’s like film music, and it greatly benefits from having show-off musicians playing it, who exphasise its numerous special effects.

This was one of the best performances of this group of concertos that I have ever heard. Or maybe it was just the contrast with all that had gone before, and it merely sounded like it at the time. Whatever. I really, really enjoyed it, and forgot about the History of Music for the duration. The slow movements were especially well done, with beautiful, still, almost vibrato-less playing the like of which I have seldom heard. It was the kind of performance where I stopped saying to myself, oh he did that bit wrong and not the way I prefer it, and said to myself instead, ah that’s how he did that bit, how wonderful.

Benjamin Nabarro, this time out at the front on his own as the soloist, was a man transformed, from a dutiful servant into the master both of his instrument and of all he surveyed, with his conductor matching his every move. Despite being dressed in the same nondescript clothing, he even looked different, not like a Hobbit at all. He looked like a star violinist. And whereas earlier I had felt sorry for him for missing out on the Great Recording Project, I now believe that he might yet be a part of whatever remains of this project, and become a household name even now. By the time I got home and googled him, I was not a bit surprised to learn how distinguished he seems to be, and with what a variety of ensembles and orchestras he has played, and what a variety of concertos he has performed.

Looking back on it, my guess is that the Vivaldi was the thing they all really practised. The other pieces, they practised enough to be sure they would not make fools of themselves, but the Four Seasons they practised enough for it (them) to really sparkle. Which it did.

Thinking about the History of Music some more, I still think that these deserving and worthy young people are destined for oblivion, having been born at one of the worst possible times for “classical” music-making ever, after the Great Recording Project (more about that by me and many commenters in this Samizdata posting), but before the Great Recovery from the Great Recording Project (concerning which more anon) gets seriously under way. But for as long as they were playing the Four Seasons, I forgot about that.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

From now on I’m going to try to put something up here every day

Yes. Something. Very possibly something short, or trivial, or banal, or just plain stupid. But something.

I do not believe that it is an unbreakable law of blogging that all bloggers must update their blogs every day. Some of the blogs to your left remain unaltered for days and even weeks on end. But I already know from experience that this something-each-day rule works well for me. I can do something every day, usually with no inconvenience. On the other hand, if I let the days go by, the obligation to resume with a splash instead of just a plop causes a feedback loop of delay, which I do not enjoy. So I am being entirely selfish here.

Also, my best writing is probably done in phrases and sentences, rather than in long, carefully thought out paragraphs and essays. These good fine phrases and good sentences are just as likely to be provoked by obligatory postings – “quota” postings, as I sometimes call them – as by things I feel an inner compulsion to say. Anyway, inner compulsion is overrated.

If there are interruptions, I will try to flag them up beforehand.

Please note the word “try” in the above, twice, and again in the title. As always, I promise nothing. You get what you pay for.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

An east London photo on the right

More housekeeping, this time to sort out how to have a picture on the right, and text next to it on the left.

First I will just have a picture which isn’t clickable, but if I can, I’ll make it so you can click and get the original and wider version.

For those not familiar with London, and I have to face the fact that I do share a planet with millions of such people, the towers in the distance are the towers of Docklands, and the chair in the foreground is a chair in the foreground.

That part of London is one of my favourite places in the world. The magic of it for me is in the constant contrasts you get between the mundane foreground – industrial estates, chain link fencing, weeds, parked cars, security guard signs, joggers, families on bicycles, pubs, giant rusting machinery like in the last scene of Get Carter (by the sea), and new apartment blocks beyond counting – and the vastness of the distant towers or the distant Dome, which is a wonderful structure even if they have yet to think of anything meaningful to put in it. Because both the towers and the Dome were put there by politicians, rather than being straight commercial bets, there is this constant mismatch between the relatively low key foreground, and the high tech background. These are not objects that thrust up from the seething surface of a city – a city with nowhere else to go except up. They are more like parked spacecraft.

Is that going to be enough chitchat, I wonder? I don’t like it when the picture goes further down than the text.

Well, that is enough text but the problem remains of the gap between the text and the photo. I hoped it would be 10 pixels minimum, but that doesn’t seem to be registering. Until that is sorted, forget about clicking for a bigger picture. A call has gone to my technical staff to get them to put their heads together and sort this out.

Plus, re my liking for that bit of London, I realise I ought to prefer the atmosphere of libertarian type edifices to that of mixed economy edifices like these ones. What next? Preferring Brazilia to Rio de Janeiro? But there you go, that’s how I feel it. At least these towers are a capitalist muddle rather than an identical national socialist matching set, like in Brazilia.

More on the margin thing. In case anyone suggests this as an alternative, I don’t want to stick a margin all around the picture, first because I just don’t, but second, because I also want to be able to put a photo on the left and have text next to it on the right, with the left hand edge of the photo aligning vertically with the main text. I knew you’d be excited.

DONE! It turned out that the answer was to replace “10” with “10px”. As simple as that. As I always say, everything involving computers is easy when you know, and f***ing impossible and f***ing infuriating when you don’t.

By the way, my team of web developers and software engineers have said that they would like to be thanked in person, as well as being paid all the fees I am paying them. They are: Patrick Crozier.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog

Some art to be linked to from elsewhere

More picture sizing, and a picture of railway station graffiti which I have just been writing about for elsewhere. If a trackback materialises, that will be it.

Is there a special word for a link in a piece by X to another piece elsewhere also by X? There should be. An “ego-link” perhaps?

UPDATE CLARIFICATION: What is the difference between an “ego-link” (if that’s what it is called) and a Natalie, a usage which I first kite-flew here. The answer is that although a Natalie is definitely an ego-link, an ego-link need not be a Natalie. A Natalie is that particular sort of link which goes from a piece by X saying “I have a piece up here about dinosaur hunting when on holiday”, on X’s small personal blog to another piece by X on a big impersonal blog, or for that matter at a steam-driven website or mainstream media outlet.

Originally posted at Brian Micklethwait’s Old Blog