Showing posts with label Life On Mars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life On Mars. Show all posts

Monday, 16 April 2007

Who is the blind beggar

Life On Mars came to an appropriately climactic close last week and the blogosphere was full of plaudits for John Simm's and Philip Glennister's portrayals of Sam Tyler and Gene Hunt. For me though, there was a plaudit missing: every week, Blind Beggar are credited with the role of musical advisers for the series. I cannot imagine the series without their carefully chosen, erudite, witty and pertinent musical selection; yet I can find out remarkably little about this team/business/individual. I have been waiting for a reply to an e-mail I sent to Kudos, the Life On Mars production company, their silence is ominous - if they reply I'll let you know; but my money is that they wont; because they are busy protecting what must be one of the best jobs in the world.

Picture the scene (screen fades to reveal what looks like a comfortable lounge with an Apple Mac in one corner, and a Bang and Olufsen music system filling one wall, with comfortable leather sofas strategically placed to gain the optimum musical experience from it; two
casually dressed guys in their mid forties lounge on the sofas with A4 pads and pens on their laps)

Man 1: So when is this series set?
Man 2: Script says about 1985
Man 1: And they want iconic music...they gotta be kidding...
Man 2: ...wait though, what about Kirsty McCall, New England?
Man 1: Yeah but it's all a bit sparse isn't it?
Man 2: Hmmm I think we need inspiration....
Man 1: You're right dude

(presses a remote control and a giant cupboard slides open to reveal a huge bar containing every conceivable bottled beer. The guys pop open bottles which they clink in the air as if 'high fiving')

Man 2: And now for the sounds man...

(presses another button and a Tom Bakeresque voice says: "your chosen year is 1985, enjoy..." the room erupts in sound and both men leap around as Prince's Let's Go Crazy pumps out of the precision speakers; the party hots up as Simple Minds, Don't You sets their minds racing on their new high earning project),

Man 1: Great move man! We're gonna pull off another Mars coup aren't we?
Man 2: Kerching!

Scene shifts to 90 minutes later, both men now sitting leaning drunkenly together on one sofa surrounded by empty bottles and cans; they both look dejected as the sounds of Elaine Paige and Barbara Dickson's I know him so well fade into the background.

Man 1: Three chuffing tracks...
Man 2: We're stuffed dude...
Man 1: Chuffing eighties crap...
Man 2: I'll get our coats...

Perhaps the job isn't that easy after all. Incidentally the BBC website for the series lists the songs used in each episode, but don't, like I did, click on the names expecting to hear the song, you just get more information on the artist - a page advertising Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, in the case of Alvin Stardust!

Wednesday, 21 March 2007

Look how far we've come


I watched the fabulous Life on Mars last night; it really has to be the best and most entertaining drama on TV at the moment. This week I nearly fell off my chair when I saw my favourite children's TV programme of all time lampooned in a drug-enhanced hallucinogenic experience featuring DCI Gene Hunt, as citizen of Camberwick Green, beating up a nonce. But that wasn't the only high point in the programme, the series has also been notable for the accuracy of it's depiction of the 1970s, right down to the products that were popular.

As you know from previous posts, I'm a fan of advertising, particularly the psychology; so I was delighted last night to see, on the office shelf of Gene Hunt, a bottle of the classic male fragrance Hai Karate. What tickled me was the memory of the advertisements, not just for Hai Karate, but for Denim - the other classic fragrance - both guaranteeing sexual conquest to the man wearing the fragrance. And there we have the great advertising truth: no matter how slick or technologically adept we have become at producing advertising material, the ad-men still appeal to those basest instincts, pushing the buttons deep inside us that we don't always know are there.

Sex, as it always has done, sells. Consequently the bedroom shelves of my testosterone driven sons and their mates contain Lynx. Equally I know that by adding the label 'sex' into this post I will receive far more hits than normal - sorry if you've come here under false pretences.