Me and my friend were having an argument today. It’s an argument we have every day, in fact. It’s a matter of class, it’s a matter of pride, it’s a matter of grammar. I’ve already actually made the mistake that always ignites the ill feeling. ‘Me and my friend’ is a grammatically incorrect phrase, as you all know (I’m basing that on the probable demographic of this blog…), it should be ‘my friend and I’. But, why do people get stressed about grammar? Why do I get stressed with people who get stressed with grammar? Why do I rely on rhetorical questions to form my introductions? That’s a question for another day. For now, let’s discuss grammar and class warfare.
I consider my knowledge of grammar to be pretty comprehensive, especially in this day-and-age of un-censored, un-edited, (un-educated) internet bloggers. However, there are lines to be drawn. I consider that the most important function of language is to make someone else understand what you feel, think etc. and it follows that grammar serves to elucidate the point; the logic-concrete to glue together the noun-bricks, or something… This puts grammar as subservient to meaning in any particular sentence. Most people would understand what ‘me, friend, argument’ implies, so what does it matter if, when we introduce grammar, I use the correct pronoun, and twist the phrase around?
I’ll tell you why it matters. Using pedantically accurate grammar is a hallmark of the upper classes, and therefore a hallmark of the middle classes who are trying to seem like the higher ones. This is why people use over-the-top fancy grammar; it’s an image thing. And I would certainly argue that ‘my friend and I’ is using fancy grammar. Turning the sentence round is a continental thing; eg. ‘est-ce que tu est son ami?’ or ‘bist du nicht seine jünger eine?’, and it’s usually used for a question. We would no longer say ‘are you not one of his disciples?’ and we certainly wouldn’t say ‘is it that you are his friend?’, unless perhaps you speak Estuary English.
The problem is that good grammar then becomes a weapon in class warfare. Elitist upper-class wannabes will, even before you’ve finished saying ‘me and my friends’, someone’s jumped down your throat and corrected smugly; ‘my friend and I’. They then look down on you, perhaps even ‘rise above it’, for ‘they know not what they do’. How ‘drôle’. No. It’s despicable.
I’m not advocating the dissolution of grammar… I don’t think I’m even advocating the destruction of ‘my friends and I’, in certain circumstances like formal essays, official signs etc. But certainly in speech it’s not impairing the meaning. Rant over. Ooh, not quite, I love it when people correct you when actually you got it right, ie. ‘he gave it to me and my friend.’ ‘No, that should be “he gave it to my friend and I”’ ‘No it shouldn’t, you pretentious twat.’ Now I am happy. And so is my friend.
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Friday, 16 January 2009
I. Musicals
Well here’s my first post! I’m hoping to cover a wide range of subjects close to my heart; music, predominantly, but I hope that’ll lead on to more diverse musings. As for the subject of my first one… Musicals? I do love a good musical. What makes a good musical? That’s a difficult thing to define.
One important aspect, according to some purveyors of low-end commercial musicals (obviously this isn’t an opinion to which I personally subscribe…), is the catchy-ness of the songs. Whether you’re humming ‘Defying Gravity’ or ‘Any Dream Will Do’, you’re caught in the net; it’ll make you download the Broadway Cast Recording, buy the DVD, or, worse yet, actually purchase extortionate tickets for the London theatre! Even my personal favourite musical, Les Misérables, uses catchy tunes to sell its wares, cf. ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’ and others.
Many people use musicals as an escape; a place where the normal rules of keeping things to yourself just don’t apply. Every five minutes there’s a self-indulgent soliloquy. You know the score, the strings rush up, you look off into the distance, fling your arms out on the last chorus… But I’m getting carried away with myself. See? It’s addictive! Shallow though, I would argue, there’s not much ‘substance’, whatever that may mean.
Perhaps as a reaction to this, people add a dash of politics to their shows. ‘Rent’ with its liberal agenda, ‘Chicago’ against press influence in the courts (at a push…), and my personal favourite, ‘Cabaret’ with its look in to all sorts of things; Nazism, abortion, homosexuality, I could go on. ‘The Future Belongs to Me’ is a great example of a clever, simple-yet-effective song, and in fact, all the songs have this beguiling mix of simplicity and incisive wit.
Well, having said all that, there is one defining factor, one that trumps all that has come above: it HAS to be LOUD. Seriously. Les Mis (btw I’d like to point out that I refuse to use a ‘z’!) probably wouldn’t be the pillar-of-the-genre that it is if it wasn’t frequently louder than you can probably stand. Obviously it has really quiet bits, which are important too, but ‘One Day More’… Wow, it gets me every time.
It’s about singing as loud as you can; screaming (aesthetically….) about how you feel. It’s cathartic not just for the singer(s), but also for the audience. Perhaps this is the real social importance of musical theatre, a collective release of emotions: it’s good for the soul! You don’t really need poignant social commentary, à la ‘Cabaret’, although that helps, you don’t really need a happy ending, à la every cheesy musical by Rogers and Hammerstein, et al. but you do need an intense outpouring of emotion, à la, perhaps, ‘Epiphany’ in Sweeney Todd. Obviously I’m being a musical-theatre fascist, you’re welcome to your own opinion. There’s a lot to be said for over-the-rainbow escapism, but I’d rather stay in Kansas, thank you very much, screaming at the clouds.
One important aspect, according to some purveyors of low-end commercial musicals (obviously this isn’t an opinion to which I personally subscribe…), is the catchy-ness of the songs. Whether you’re humming ‘Defying Gravity’ or ‘Any Dream Will Do’, you’re caught in the net; it’ll make you download the Broadway Cast Recording, buy the DVD, or, worse yet, actually purchase extortionate tickets for the London theatre! Even my personal favourite musical, Les Misérables, uses catchy tunes to sell its wares, cf. ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’ and others.
Many people use musicals as an escape; a place where the normal rules of keeping things to yourself just don’t apply. Every five minutes there’s a self-indulgent soliloquy. You know the score, the strings rush up, you look off into the distance, fling your arms out on the last chorus… But I’m getting carried away with myself. See? It’s addictive! Shallow though, I would argue, there’s not much ‘substance’, whatever that may mean.
Perhaps as a reaction to this, people add a dash of politics to their shows. ‘Rent’ with its liberal agenda, ‘Chicago’ against press influence in the courts (at a push…), and my personal favourite, ‘Cabaret’ with its look in to all sorts of things; Nazism, abortion, homosexuality, I could go on. ‘The Future Belongs to Me’ is a great example of a clever, simple-yet-effective song, and in fact, all the songs have this beguiling mix of simplicity and incisive wit.
Well, having said all that, there is one defining factor, one that trumps all that has come above: it HAS to be LOUD. Seriously. Les Mis (btw I’d like to point out that I refuse to use a ‘z’!) probably wouldn’t be the pillar-of-the-genre that it is if it wasn’t frequently louder than you can probably stand. Obviously it has really quiet bits, which are important too, but ‘One Day More’… Wow, it gets me every time.
It’s about singing as loud as you can; screaming (aesthetically….) about how you feel. It’s cathartic not just for the singer(s), but also for the audience. Perhaps this is the real social importance of musical theatre, a collective release of emotions: it’s good for the soul! You don’t really need poignant social commentary, à la ‘Cabaret’, although that helps, you don’t really need a happy ending, à la every cheesy musical by Rogers and Hammerstein, et al. but you do need an intense outpouring of emotion, à la, perhaps, ‘Epiphany’ in Sweeney Todd. Obviously I’m being a musical-theatre fascist, you’re welcome to your own opinion. There’s a lot to be said for over-the-rainbow escapism, but I’d rather stay in Kansas, thank you very much, screaming at the clouds.
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