The latest topical insights from Aberdeen musical sketch comedy team, The Flying Pigs.
J Fergus Lamont, arts critic and author of Stoor of Echoes: A history of McKay’s of Queen Street
Oh joyous day! Too long have our streets been devoid of cultural life, so it was a tremendous filip to find oneself amidst a large crowd for last week’s Spectra Festival, in which situationist art collective “Aberdeen City Council” presented a panoply of intriguing installations.
Huge and enthusiastic crowds were no doubt as thrilled as I that there was something to do in the city centre after 6.30pm that didn’t involve beer, a pie or a fight.
I watched agog as a mysterious animated display was projected onto the side of Marischal College, while a soundtrack in heavily-accented local dialect was rendered increasingly Delphic by the booming sound system.
Nearby, an arrangement of gigantic trumpet-shaped flowers loomed while excited children jumped up and down, causing the lights to change colour and emit unearthly sounds – simultaneously referencing Wyndham’s Day of The Triffids, Stockhausen’s Kontra-Punkte and Aberdeen’s former glory as Britain in Bloom winner 1979.
Making my way down Schoolhill, I was delighted by another free-standing exhibit, consisting of a harassed-looking man in a hi-vis jacket standing next to a mirrored cube filled with lights, exhorting the crowds to both “move close to the glass” and “don’t touch the glass”. The intriguing dichotomy, a potent commentary on the ubiquity of “glass boxes” in our urban architecture, by which we are simultaneously attracted and repulsed.
At the Art Gallery, I witnessed a particularly stunning happening, which took the form of a massive, disgruntled queue of people stretching all the way from the Harriet Street Boots to the venue’s main doors, through which a 3D globe could be partially glimpsed.
Proceeding towards the Music Hall in search of a model of the moon I had been told was a “must-see”, I beheld the spartan delights of Union Street – how inspired to highlight a lunar replica with surroundings entirely lacking in atmosphere!
There I came upon an illuminated sign displaying the words “Crown Street”, strung between a bank and a bookmakers. Notably, its second word is designed to flicker on and off – a powerful metaphor for the guttering health of our beleaguered high streets.
Keen to end on a positive, I joined the last remnants of the Art Gallery queue which snaked around in front of the building, and was delighted to be within a few feet of the door when it was closed and locked, as it was “after 9.45”. Truly, a searing critique of the inaccessibility of art to the masses.
I wept.
Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit whose glass is totally empty and in sore need of a refill
I know he tried to put a brave face on it after the game, but even Stevie G his self would have to admit that after the Reds got dumped out of the cup by Motherwell on Saturday, the fat lady was writing on the wall. I always have mixed emulsions whenever a Dons manager gets the dunt, but I think it was high time for Glass to get his jotters.
He’s had a truculent time in the Pittodrie hot tub. Numero uno: he had to fill the boots of Degsy McInnes – and Deek’s boots was always going to be tough to fill as his feets was Aberdeen’s most successful in a generation.
I think Super Dave Cormack will keep his chest close to his cards before he pins his sleeve to the mast
Numero punto: Glass had to rebuild the squad after some big names had moved on to postures new. And, numero clio: as Old Kenny can emphasise with, the refs had it in for him big style. In fact, he’s had as many yellow cards this season as Scott Brown.
Despite all them things, I still thunk things would work out better for the lad. But it just never really got going for him, which is a real surprise when you consider he had next to no prior managerial experience and no involvement in Scottish football for the last 10 years.
Aberdeen needs someone with a bit of steel about them. Someone that’s not afraid to roll up their socks, pull up their sleeves and get right into them. Someone who, when you cut them, bleeds red.
So – if you’re reading, Mr Cormack, this is Kenny Cordiner officially throwing his ring into the hat!
One thing is for sure, the chairman will keep his chest close to his cards before he pins his sleeve to the mast. There’s no way we’ll see a quick announcement.
If my sources are as reliable as always, the one person who definitely won’t be taking up the Pittodrie mantlepiece is St Mirren gaffer, Jim Goodwin – or I’ll eat my cat!
