30/8 - Enough is Enough, Manchester

It's weird how different things can seem in the daylight. It's as if, from the day's dawning through to its demise, challenges faced near and far can appear non-existent. It can even feel, sometimes, like the sun's warming rays (a stretch, by British standards) bear the profound ability to render a country currently circling the drain into a period of darkness, brighter. Better. This thought failed to occur to me, as I peered through a Northern Rail window; absorbing instead the stellar view of the High Peak's distant hills, the iconic building formerly recognised as the Co-Operative pyramid - all atop Stockport's own Viaduct. But, from such a vantage point, succumbing to daylight's deceptive nature would be an effortless and easy task. One that skips over the ground-level, the reality. One that highlights only blue skies.

Well, within the towering walls of Manchester Cathedral tonight, many a Mancunian witnessed new horizons: visible to all with the eyes to seek them, fast-approaching a country in dire need of change and encapsulated in three words - 'Enough is Enough'.

The clock must've read 5PM, when we caught the train into Manchester; my mum and I having schlepped it to Stockport station after a train cancellation closer to home. Frustrating though the sudden change to our plans was, the world-class irony of this ordeal did not pass us by: one of the summer's most prominent problems decides to rear its head, disrupting our journey to a political rally? A laughable situation nonetheless, but then again, the Tory government haven't half deluged us with laughable situations recently, have they?

However much such gobsmacking affairs as soon-to-be PM Liz Truss dodging a BBC interview and soon-to-be-gone Prime Minister Boris Johnson launching a 'victory lap' tour across the country (sure to pass achievements as shimmering as the South East's shite-polluted seas, traversing the bridge across the North-South divide up to the former's fouler deprivation levels) make you want to guffaw and/or cry into your cuppa, they are, sadly, indicative of the current state of UK politics: mired in corruption and sleaze, so far to the right that it's made Farage obsolete and, most pivotally, beneficial only to those at the highest rungs of society. What's more, we've on our hands an opposition that seems to have forgotten how not to pull its punches, even as the Tories willingly hand their own backsides to them. 

What a predicament we find ourselves in. If only, in the face of a cost of living crisis, there were an organised, 500,000-pledge-strong movement on the side of the people which fiercely challenged the government to actually take action...is a thought that would soon be quelled upon seeing the thousands upon thousands, of all demographics, congregated in and around Manchester Cathedral this evening. As typical as this observation may sound, as we queued to get into the building, there genuinely pervaded in the air a feeling of imminent change, of collective struggle, of agitation; the sheer number of attendees at the event causing the generation of electricity, or so it seemed. Yet, upon entering the Cathedral - and subsequently beholding its vast, ornate beauty - we ended up wondering whether it had too many chairs. Our qualms were quashed within minutes; the overspill, created by the building's full capacity, forming a sea of intent listeners outside. 

If there lingered merely a sense of anticipation as we stood in the queue, the palpable tension had become almost overwhelming amidst the green and red lights dotted around the lectern, organ pipes looming large above and the chorus of conversations a hundred fold inside the church - all of which quietened quickly at the event's commencement. This excitement only continued to build as the first speakers took to the stage: in what was a hugely significant declaration, Mancunian faith leaders representing Sikhism, Hinduism, Christianity, Judaism and Islam made clear their alignment to Enough is Enough, with the Dean Rogers Govender decrying such instances as people spending entire days inside the Cathedral, to avoid the freezing temperatures of their homes - that which will become all too common, come the autumn and winter months. 

Thus, the speeches began.

Andy Burnham takes to the lectern...

Though perceived to be a daunting task, opening the night did not seem so much of an anxiety to Andy Burnham, Mayor of Greater Manchester, than a breeze; receiving a flurry of applause and whistles as he arose to the lectern. Talking initially about the catastrophic crises racing towards the country, his anger at the government was evident in his reference to what he described as a "surreal summer": while the "99%" grew ever wearier of the prospect of a hellish cost of living crisis, the Tories catered only to the needs and wants of the "1%" and indulged once again in "Tory infighting" as the two PM leadership candidates battled it out for No. 10. He closed his statement with an acknowledgement of the faith leaders' allegiance, highlighting the importance of the rally's chosen venue and praising Manchester as "home of the Suffragettes" as well as the battle of Peterloo and the 1787 lobbying of Thomas Clarkson to abolish slavery - all historically leftist events.

Maxine Looby speaks

Speaking on behalf of the University and Colleges Union (UCU) were Maxine Looby, its Vice President, and Dr Jo Grady, the General Secretary. Looby, an "honorary Manc" - having studied at the University of Manchester - described how teachers in further education had been "ground into the ground" over the course of 12 years under Conservative leadership; growing visibly frustrated on the matter of recent years' "hand over fist" loss in wages, while "vice chancellors take home 300-500k". Grady spoke as powerfully as her colleague, labelling the government's treatment of workers as "institutional cruelty" and stating plainly that its actions were out of "fear of an organised and educated working class".

Ian Byrne on stage

Some particularly gifted speakers also on the bill, Andrea Egan, president of UNISON, lamented the government's "slap in the face" delivered to workers' rights and Britain's current "profiteering crisis"; chairman of ACORN Manchester, Jake Johnson, beautifully summed up the issue with "they're the organised money, we're the organised people"; Ian Byrne MP of the Labour party shed light on the shocking findings suggesting that 57% of his constituents will be cutting down on meals this winter, as well as demanding for "universal free school meals" across the UK; even Bolton actress Sophie Willes, of Alma's Not Normal fame, spoke refreshingly of a key truth: "we've been in a clusterfuck for 12 fucking years!" (Cue the compere's remark of "sorry, big man"...)

Rounding off the event were two mainstays of the Enough is Enough campaign. The penultimate speaker of the night, Eddie Dempsey, Senior Assistant General Secretary of the National Union of Rail, Maritime and Transport Workers (RMT) roused up a storm, and without notes: criticising the government's insistence of 'modernisation' - as opposed to "paying the workers a decent wage" - and grasping the energy of the room in stating that "there's a change coming". What struck me most strongly was Dempsey's main reason given for supporting EIE, as he said that "I'm here for the people I love" - reasoning that I think all of us in attendance could empathise with. 

Eddie Dempsey, the "working class philosopher" as described by Dave Ward

Taking on the top dogs...Dave Ward

Finally, meeting with the lectern was Dave Ward, the General Secretary of the Communication Workers Union (CWU), who immediately ripped apart the government's favoured jargon - "'Taking back control'...'Levelling up'...what the hell does it all mean?" - to much agreement. He touched on the idea of what he terms "building collectivism," through which "trade unions come together" as opposed to being insular; reiterates with gravity that "change is not a a spectator sport"; and asks conclusively, with an uproarious response, "will you stand with us?" 

And so, as the last speaker departed the stage, and the crowds began to disperse, there remained a buzz so prominent, you'd think all who had been there to witness the event would transform into bees...a fitting fate for a Mancunian, one might say.

Overall, it was an experience unlike any other - though I can't say I've ever attended a political rally prior to Enough is Enough, Tuesday 30th August, at Manchester Cathedral. Even then, one of the pandemic's downsides was surely the decline in organised protest against the powers that be; such gatherings facing bans for a period, then otherwise deemed a risk to public health, until the virus's large decline in 2022.

Amidst this context, the imperative of rallies was certainly felt across the swathes of people gathered tonight, especially in light of the EIE slogan referred to by Jo Grady in her talk, "educate, agitate, organise" - essential tenets to the successful campaign that which EIE is striving to become. Judging by how spectacularly the house Cathedral was brought down, it's safe to presume that this vehicle for change is steadily on track towards exactly that.

As you can expect, the train journey home was considerably different to the same one of hours earlier. Perspective-wise, anyway; no longer could I get lost in the boundless, faraway hills, long since concealed by a pitch-black sky, or in the beautiful pointlessness of a big, blue pyramid. What caught my eye, this time around, were the many bright squares acting as visions into the many lives of Manchester. Each passing window told a unique story - some displaying a young couple; others, a family gathered by the TV; while thousands had their curtains closed. Despite the variety of circumstances made apparent to me as I attempted to resist the effects of motion parallax, clear in my mind was the fact that one factor bound all of these little windows, these people, together: energy.

Light. Warmth. Soon, these essentials will begin to slip out of reach for so many of the lives that my eyes flitted briefly past, aboard the train; the dim glow from their windows, gradually dwindling until left in its absence an inhospitable darkness; tragically, for the most desperate, it may soon be, simply, 'curtains'. These problems have for weeks on end become a reality for those undeserving of such horrific conditions - bleak would be an ignorant way of putting it. But there is hope.

Tonight, from start to finish, was the embodiment of hope. The idea that, no matter how insincere, and callous, and lacking of any understanding of what is facing MILLIONS in the coming months the establishment may be, there still stand legions of those on the side of decency, dignity and the rights of the people, rang undeniable in the ears of all who came to listen this evening. And - as long as there continues to be education, agitation and organisation to combat those who seek only to divide and diminish - things can get better. It'll take an effort, but if, as fruits of the labour required to bring forth change, a family can end up with enough money to get them through the week, or a child can access the meals they duly deserve, then it'll all be worth it. 

Maybe 'it's like talking to a wall with you' isn't such a bad thing, after all?

And the results are in!

Greetings! This is coming from a person newly liberated from the confines of that old, beloved institution: high school. It certainly feels odd, this sensation of having no real responsibilities; a sensation which will soon pass, come college's beckoning in a few weeks or so. That said, there comes with such a feeling a silver lining, and that is the payoff, the real McCoy...the exam results.

Whether you like them, hate them, or are generally unbothered by them, exams have always been the main port of call for quantifying a person's successes (at least, in schools). And, in my view, that's for the best: they allow for an equal playing field for those who are especially studious, as well as for the students that perhaps aren't, but still have the chance to try their best and 'pull it out of the bag,' if you will, in the real thing. In short, exams bring a certain finality to the high school experience. A whole other beast, then, would be attempting to tackle the question of whether exams should be wholly reliant on the process of memory, with the retention of which being the focal point, as opposed to understanding and applying the information you have learned over the course of your time studying it...but I suppose that's an essay destined to remain on the backburner, for now.

Rather than waste my precious brain cells on that particular subject matter, I shall instead speak of a separate, though overarchingly significant, topic. This topic is one associated with abnormality, albeit subconsciously: a concept often met with derision, in reaction to its 'weirdness,' as if it were specifically designed to arouse from all those around it an unshakeable feeling of discomfort, by the Gods - their own special way of laughing at us. With such an introduction, I bet you're fit to burst with excitement at the direction of this piece (though, really, I could've done with using the analogy of a boxing ring; a bit of "AAAAND, IN THE BLUE CORNER..." would've cranked the whole thing up to 11), but I'm afraid the English language can be deceiving. Or, I can, anyway, for I'm just talking about sentimentality. 

Exhibit A: a useless, if unique, gift...

I was once a believer in this idea of reflection being an outrageously pointless endeavour; upon reflection (cue laugh track) I may have been in denial about my true disposition. The issue in question isn't so black or white, however. Take the act of keeping objects - of the likes of souvenirs and mementos, perhaps presents from relatives or friends - for example: in premise, it's a gesture of appreciation for a place you've been to, a time in your life, and (in the case of a gift) a gift-sender. Despite the comfort and happiness it may bring, though, this behaviour has one, single outcome, and you and I both know it's lying inside a drawer, tucked away in the darkness, collecting dust for years until it emerges once more...only to be returned to its previous position. Sure, cherishing the odd bits doesn't do anyone harm, but in possession of excess there looms always the question: 'do I need all of this?'

Back to the point of being 'in denial about my true disposition.' There have been life events of relative significance passing me by as of late (see, 'turning 16' and 'leaving high school') that seem to have reawakened what once could've been a 'sentimental soul' somewhere within myself. Today merely confirmed my inclinations: it was as I awoke and started to prepare for the 'big day' that I began to experience this rising sense of finality. Rising, as I left my house, schoolbag and coffee flask in tow; ascending at pace, as I took the same bus route I'd taken for the past 5 years to school; reaching a crescendo as I approached the self-same buildings I for a time had scarcely noticed. By the time I returned to the bedroom I'd woken up in hours before - and feeling quite emotional in contrast to the morning's indifference - the presence of a desire to reflect had become too powerful to ignore any longer.

It's at this point in the show article that I, ruthlessly and unrelentingly, try to argue in favour of my view by taking those of others down! (Should I be giving off children's TV show host energy in my pieces...probably not!) In regards to sentimentality, which as I previously outlined has encountered its fair share of naysayers, I find that some, if not most people, will tend to write off simply reflecting on events as being too 'deep'; that is, an overly time consuming activity requiring thoughtfulness to a degree that renders it useless in the long run. What hogwash! Surely, if ever we're going to progress in our respective lives, it's with a healthy - rather than excessive - dose of reflection; be that in the form of comparing exam results with previous test scores, or taking in how you as a person have developed over time, or however you see fit. If we went through our lives like a flame through sheets of paper, leaving in our wake a tunnel of faded and forsaken memories, their inevitable progression from cradle to grave would appear an awfully lot quicker than it would've, had we just taken life as it came; stepping forward and looking back in equal measure all the while.

So, with a decent set of grades and tertiary education waiting in the wings, I can safely say that - and forgive me for this fleeting use of cliché - a door in my life has today been firmly and permanently closed. Though I could, in the throes of boredom, embark on that same bus journey as I had many an 8 o'clock in the morning in years passed, or take a stroll past the school building for old time's sake, it will forever be from an outsider's point of view. That, I shall come to accept in months to come as being one of life's many rites of passage; you leave school, you leave home, you conquer (though I might reserve that last one for history's warmongers). As for the long term, well, I suppose that me and my newfound sense of sentimentality will continue to reflect for reflection's sake - to take a life on the cusp of incessant hastiness and try to live it slowly. 

To test this new superpower: I wonder why it is that I spend over 3 hours writing pieces that I know not a soul will read...

(I could benefit a whole lot from this 'reflection' business, as it turns out!)

5 years spent in that place and only a lousy shoebox to show for it!

But what of the iPod?

Obsolescence is inevitable, in the twenty-first century - as is life, as is death. Technology might as well be slotted into such categories, anyway: what for how centric around texting, gaming, watching, our lives now are and will be, until the fiery grasp of global warming proves too much for Mother Nature to bear, or God's announcement of Judgement Day come early. With technology's constant presence in human existence as we know it, however, comes its constant development.

So it was that, as I took my dad's 'antique' piece of classic, music-oriented technology out of a box long since encrusted with a sheen of dust a few days ago, a saccharine thought revealed itself to me: 'ASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUST.' To which, of course, the rest of my brain responded 'how dramatic' and moved swiftly on. Yet. The meaning - regardless of false poignancy - is true, in that, and there's no nice way of putting this...the iPod is dead.

YES, did mourners gather in their masses, once-followers of the forlorn device's once-revolutionary musical possibilities, all faces marked with the stains of cascaded tears. The Apple HQ was surrounded, and justifiably so: as the bygone era that this pocket-sized catalyst for such technological developments as music streaming represented reached its conclusion, so could it not pass without due acknowledgment of its considerable importance.

And yes, I'm having you on. Taking the mickey, pulling your leg, however you'd like to phrase it, but for good reason. OF COURSE nobody batted an eyelid at the news of the iPod's demise after 20 years of production - it's highly likely that the majority of us turned to each other and asked, "they've been making them all this time?" Because who could have predicted the sheer pace at which it came and went, like a young child's birthday present: adored for weeks, months at a push, before meeting its maker at the bottom of a landfill. Better yet, who noticed its disappearance in the first place? Don't think you're the only one who didn't - none of us did. And who could blame us? Our eyes were no longer fixated on that thin screen with its insufferable dial (most likely a main factor in the device's slow death, I imagine), but on a larger, multi-talented and more 'intelligent' force: the 'smartphone'.

What a smart old thing it is. Now ubiquitous in most modern households - all fingers, not excluding your baby's grubby mitts and your grandpa's talons, have once approached a 'HOME' button - the smartphone upon first release was as revolutionary as revolutionary gets: presenting to the consumer an opportunity to play games; send messages; access social media; and perform many such activities, all at once.

Of course, the smartphone also boasted one, pivotal capability: it could play music.

This simple element provided to users by the smartphone is, ultimately, what set the death of the iPod firmly in stone; the idea of being able to stick on a favourite playlist while simultaneously scanning social media or playing Candy Crush instantly superseding that of only listening to music. To this perhaps unavoidable progression, one might conclude that we as a society are 'all the better' in our newfound ability to multitask in such an efficient way, and that the obsolescence of the iPod is just - no, a trophy, symbolic of the ever-changing nature of technology, its ceaseless pursuit of amelioration on display for all to see - but I am not 'one'. Let me tell you why.

Family matters

As I recounted not too long ago, the grey iPod of my dad's - coloured partially by design, and by dust - was lying bereft of attention in a box containing the tech of yesteryear; the JVC, a palm-sized camera, even a Stylophone; gadgets all having once played an important, if not long-term, role in our family life over the years. The fact that the device in question too resided in the container of forgotten family treasures underpins one of my reasons - albeit a biased one - for missing it. This iPod represented a deep-rooted, personal relationship between my family and music; between myself and music. Scrolling through the many tunes housed inside that little device, and making the most of its, I'll reiterate, excruciating dial all the while, I unknowingly embarked upon a journey of rediscovery. From 90s dance classics - Ray of Light, the crowning glory of the bunch - to the Mod Rockers of the 60s, traversing across the sea of the old and the new in the process, there rippled in my wake thousands of tracks; attached to every one a vision of another time; a past road trip, holiday, party. You may well deem my linking of childhood reminiscence with the greatness of a device rendered ephemeral uninspired, but I truly view the iPod as having been an instrumental force in the formation of my overall music taste, as a result of its temporary presence in my life. As will countless others.

The view into the fabled box of obsolescence!

This piece of technology was the first opportunity for music consumers to store their favourite songs on a scale grander than ever before: no longer were the days of saving a smattering of songs, as dictated by the restrictions of predecessors the CD and the cassette, for the iPod now permitted the downloading of entire discographies through iTunes. Cashing in on the new possibilities on offer in the late noughties were my parents who, just like the rest of the nation at the time, proceeded to download every banger they'd ever heard. Never before had such a blending of genres, musicians and styles been possible, and on a device so slight. It is this that, among other aspects, spurs me on to highlight the enormous impact on our present-day music consumption in which the iPod had - and to depressingly little fanfare, I feel. Anyway, onto the next tirade, dear friends!

The perils of progression

I think that, regardless of your opinions on the topic of this article, most of us can agree on the idea that watching TV is enjoyable. There's always something for everyone - for the young'un, the hungover student, the old aged pensioner - and, at key points in the year (Christmas), it's the binding agent with 100% success in quelling, if temporarily, the atmosphere of utter boredom that which only one event can create (Christmas).

I mean, hark back to the days of old, for a second: the meagre offering of 3 channels was enough to captivate a nation and gather the family around for the day's showing of Bullseye or Family Fortunes. In comparison with today's televisual experience - scooting past the obvious technological differences - the TV of the 70s and 80s was undoubtedly more successful in that endeavour; to contrast a life of 3 channels and little else to do, with an abundance of channels broadcast across the globe and bucketloads of new gadgets and gizmos at one's disposal, is to understand why.

Those were the days...

Clearly, I have too may words with which to prolong this post, forevermore! That's why I'm simply rounding off my point by outlining it in that previous sentence: we have too much choice. Embodying (and perpetuating) this idea is the smartphone, with its many channels for communication and amusement, its sole purpose being to captivate us for as long as possible. We could be idealistic about the impact of such choice, shovelled into our eyes, ears and minds on the daily, on our music consumption: that, although using the smartphone is like riding a merry-go-round of sound and fluorescence, while on drugs, one can still focus intently on what they're listening to. 

That's idealism, though. Fact is, one can be 'focused' on a song for 5 minutes, or for 5 seconds, before pressing 'SKIP' and opening Instagram. Don't tell me that you don't, like me, wind up scrolling endlessly on the music apps themselves, scavenging for new, algorithmically-suggested bangers for you to sink your gnashers into. Getting down to the nitty-gritty, we can't NOT multitask on smartphones. The iPod, however...(and you can BOO ME ALL YOU WANT, I'm making the point), this here thin slither of joy provided the bare minimum of distractions. Bog-standard games. A half-decent camera. Fun clicky noises. Lacklustre though its other functions were, it was for a refreshingly sensical reason: the iPod had one priority, one overriding purpose, and that was to facilitate the seamless consumption of music.

It's this clear, no-nonsense form of tech that I feel has gone unappreciated in its simplicity, BECAUSE of its simplicity. In a way, I yearn for the years in which we were not so enthralled by the amalgamation of choice fed to us by increasingly complex technologies...but any more of this drab speak, and I'll be plunging my phone into the toaster!

Conclusion 

This article couldn't change the course of technology - which appears to be embarking on an upwards trajectory of squeezing the consumer dry of money and time - nor could anything at all. The future might as well be ran by AI, for it'll no doubt be curating its outcomes this very second. Still, I sought (and continue to seek) to bring to the iPod's legacy a touch of reverence through all of the little it brought to music consumption; a purely good thing, in the context of today's overcomplication of simply STICKING A TUNE ON!

Folks, you can all come to your own conclusions, but I should hope, having seen all of the evidence that has been presented to you, that you too are now reaching for your 'antique' piece of classic, music-oriented technology, taking in those sweet, sweet songs, and - the killer - without distraction!