Random Play by Graham Reid

Well, that seems to have found an audience!

Within hours of my last blog announcing the Music From Elsewhere section I am posting every week on my website here, there was a huge groundswell of interest.

I almost felt the need to alert Civil Defence, but then . . .

And there were some very complimentary messages, some along the lines of "about time". Thank you. I shall take that personally.

I also sent out a press release which started “welcome to my first press release” but could equally well have read “welcome to my last press release”. I used to receive these things by the dozen (still get a few) and I know how annoying and ignorable most of them are.

My thanks to all of you who read the blog and/or release and turned your attention Elsewhere.

So this is just another naked and unashamed plug for Music From Elsewhere -- weekly pointers to interesting or very cool albums you are unlikely to read about in the mainstream media or hear on radio.

I post a sample track from the album too so you can get an even better idea of the music -- and there is a link to Marbecks Records so if you like what you hear and want to buy it you can do so on-line. No messing about.

(Most stores, unless they are Marbecks, are unlikely to have these albums anyway. This isn‘t music found in mall stores.)

By the way, soon there will be another diversion for you at my site. Something pretty stupid, actually.

So stay tuned, bookmark Elsewhere, poke around and read the travel stories or look at the pictures when the boss isn't looking, dream of holidays in Elsewhere, and tune in to the music.

I figure if I’m enjoying doing this (and I certainly am, although it is difficult finding only Really Good Albums to put up -- there's a lot of rubbish out there, right? ) then that will come through and you’ll enjoy it too.

Cheers. From Elsewhere.

Here is what I hope you will consider good news. There’s the short version for those who only read headlines, a fuller explanation follows if you are on the company computer and pretending to be working.

THE SHORT VERSION:
There is good news if you want to know about interesting or slightly different music which isn’t being reviewed in the mainstream media or played on radio.

If you are a bit past some of the heavily marketed pop and rock and r’n’b, or that whole "indie scene" that clutters up magazines and airwaves, then I am here to help.

On my Elsewhere website here
I have instituted a weekly section Music From Elsewhere in which, every Monday, I will spotlight four or five albums that it’s unlikely you will read about anywhere else. And even less likely that you’ll hear on radio.

And! I will be posting a SAMPLE TRACK for each album. So you can read what I have to say, see the cover, and listen to the what the artist themselves do.

And another "And"! If you like what I say and what you hear then there is a link direct to that album at Marbecks Records where you can buy the thing on-line. Simple.

These aren’t "reviews as such because we’re all busy these days, so why would I waste your time writing about a lousy or even mediocre album? What I’m doing is filtering out those things and shining a spotlight on really interesting, very cool or damn terrific albums that might otherwise go past you, just as they are going past reviewers and radio programmers.

They may be pulled from the alt.rock or world music catalogues, they might be neo-folk or groovy trip-hop, they might be sung in a strange tongue or they might be just plain lovely. But they will all be, in my opinion -- seasoned by decades of listening to and writing about diverse music -- worthy of your serious attention.

To be honest, I have an idea of who I am aiming at: it’s is YOU if you love or are curious about new music, don’t mind mainstream pop or rock but are looking for something different, and probably don’t have the time or even know where to start looking for something to suit your changing tastes.

It’s YOU if the sheer number of albums being released every week meant you gave up trying but would like to get back in the game. I can help. You might have lost interest in music because of family commitments or the hours you spend at work, but that doesn’t mean you want to give up on listening entirely. I can help.

I am going to be the filter so you won’t have to wade through stacks of new release CDs in record shops by people with names you’ve never heard making music you might not like anyway.

I can help if you listen to as much music in the car as you do at home, if you listen to music by yourself but also want to have something new and interesting for when friends come around. I’m guessing you want albums with a bit of longevity about them, and something that really engages you on an emotional or amusement level.

You don’t mind jazz but not the boring shit, you don’t mind world music but have never thought that it is necessarily morally uplifting or a political statement to listen to it.

You may be a musician yourself, or work for an ad agency and are looking for the next interesting new sound for your big campaign. You may even be a radio programmer. But I’m guessing you are probably just kinda ordinary doing the day job.

If so, then I have the site for you.

Each week I will be looking specifically at new releases, but there will also be surprises like something from the vaults which still warrants your attention and will give enjoyment, there might be classic reissues, one-off wonders and weird little gems just to put a smile on your face.

Check it out right now here

A splendid time is guaranteed for all. And that Juanes track is very cool.

HERE’S THE LONG VERSION IF YOU WANT MORE BACKGROUND AND WHY THIS HAS HAPPENED.

A couple of months ago a friend of mine -- around to borrow some CDs, of course -- asked me what the first album I ever reviewed was. Other than writing a primary school essay about Johnny Horton’s terrific Sink the Bismarck single (which my parents bought for me at Beggs Wiseman) it was George Harrison’s massive three album set All Things Must Pass from about 1970.

I wrote an extensive, and I’d like to think insightful piece, for a student magazine I had started at North Shore Teachers College while being bored witless between lectures and stranded on the Shore.

I told this to my friend and laughingly noted, “God, that was over 25 years ago”.

He said, “It’s just as well you work with words because you’re hopeless with maths -- that was more than 35 years ago.”

And so it was. And what a lot of music I have heard and written about in that time. And musicians I have spoken with, travelled with, interviewed or just tried to ignore. I can reflect on having spent a day in Auckland with wee Billie Piper (when she was just 15-year old pop-poppet Billie), have toured with septuagenarian bluesmen, interviewed forgettable and forgotten stars like Chesney Hawks and Go West, been bored senseless by Duran Duran at a press conference in London, had my intelligence insulted by Tommy Lee, been enthralled at meeting jazz geniuses like Ornette Coleman and Joe Henderson in New York, and have been shouted at by hip-hoppers.

Hundreds and hundreds of interviews, which probably means I have heard many times that more vinyl singles, records, double albums, CDs and whatever other format has come along.

Japanese prog-rock, Cantonese pop, Dunedin drone, Korean rap, French hip-hop, Scandinavian jazz, Tunisian folk . . . Yep, heard ‘em all. And then some.

And written about them, sometimes had my own radio shows where I played them, and spoken about them to friends and strangers alike.

For about 20 years I had a column in the New Zealand Herald -- usually entitled “Elsewhere” because the music I wrote about wasn’t rock or classical but just, I figured, elsewhere.

Times have changed as they should, and I no longer do that with the frequency I once did. I miss it however and -- if I can believe what people tell me at gigs, in bars and in record shops when I am trawling for the new Pearl Jam or Sonic Youth album because I still love that kind of stuff too -- some people also seem to miss me doing it.

(I choose to ignore the accountant who said recently I should be reviewing more Dire Straits albums, and I had the unfortunate task of telling him they had broken up years ago so thankfully there would be no more bloody boring Dire Straits albums)

So, encouraged by flattering comments from those who have followed and trusted my taste down the years -- decades in some cases I am told -- I am doing it again, in a new and different way -- and one which I hope is better.

If music is to be heard rather than just written about then the internet is the way to go.

As of right now if you check my
link (Elsewhere, of course!) you will see the customary travel stories, photos, collected Snapshots columns from the Herald, and also a collection of the essays on jazz I wrote for Real Groovy some years ago (which still stand actually). Lots of “elsewhere” stuff.

But there is now something new and improved: Music From Elsewhere.

Every Monday I will be posting four or five reviews of albums (with cover photos) that it’s unlikely you will read about anywhere else. And even less likely that you’ll hear on radio.

Actually, these aren’t “reviews” as such because we are all busy these days, so why would I waste your time writing about a lousy album? What I’m doing is more like shining a spotlight on really interesting, very cool or damn terrific albums that might otherwise go past you, just as they are going past other reviewers.

They may be pulled from the alt.rock or world music catalogues, they might be neo-folk or groovy trip-hop, they might be sung in a strange tongue or they might be just plain lovely. But they will all be, in my opinion -- seasoned by more than 35 years of writing about music, ho ho -- worthy of your serious attention.

And! I will be posting a sample track for each album (yes, paid my APRA fee to do this) so you can read what I have to say, and listen to the music itself.

And! If you like what’s there, then there is a link direct to that album in Marbecks Records where you can buy the thing on-line (no messing about with parking problems or unreliable public transport ever again!)

So why Marbecks?

As a matter of course, Marbecks has always had the kinds of Elsewhere albums I have listened to and reviewed -- and they will have all these in Music From Elsewhere.

Marbecks has a proven track record for reliability and customer service (and I have been just another customer), and they have a small but knowledgeable staff of music lovers.

But best of all, and I think this is the clincher, when you call the shop and get the inevitable answerphone options one of the choices is, “if you want to speak to Roger”.

I know of no other big company -- and Marbecks does a lot of business so it’s big in that sense -- where you can talk directly, on a first name basis, to the guy who runs the place. I like that. A lot. It’s the way I like to work too.

A couple of disclaimers now: Yes, I am “clipping the ticket” as they say if an album sells through this system -- but Marbecks is NOT supplying me with albums and is NOT asking that I write about anything in particular because they want to shift product. And nor are record companies.

Of course I hope record companies and distributors will send me things I ask for (or just send things unsolicited), but what I write about and choose will only ever be what I want to write about, because I like it and believe that others might too.

So I now have the best of both worlds, part magazine/part radio. I get to write about music again every week, and I get to choose some tracks for you to listen to (for free). Cool.

Might I also add a special thanks to those like Roger Marbeck, Russell Brown and people in various record companies who have been not only supportive but genuinely enthusiastic and can see the potential in this idea.

But a particular BIG THANKS goes to Daniel at Interactive Pulse who is a web designer like no other: he speaks my language, has made this incredibly easy, and there is a link to him at elsewhere.

If you are looking for a web designer I unreservedly recommend Daniel. (First name terms, I like it!)

So have a look and listen to my site -- for a week the albums will be up there with sample tracks then they will go into an archive (without the sample tracks).

If you’ve got any questions flick me an e-mail. Unless I have a triple CD to listen to urgently or have some paying work with a deadline, I’ll get back to you asap. I’m good like that.

Meantime, enjoy.

The first albums are up there right now. And that Juanes track is well cool.

Well, according the radio news reports it was “chaos” in Auckland today. And I’m sure it might have been in some places.

But I’m sorry to disappoint the out-of-town drama-seekers, but I went about my business and was impressed -- as I have increasingly been these past few years -- with the way Aucklanders (in general) behaved on the roads.

Power at our place in Morningside went out around 8.30ish but we drove into the city through half a dozen busy intersections -- no lights, of course -- and were absolutely amazed: traffic behaved as if the lights were still working and cars went through maybe 20 or so at a time, then someone stopped and traffic going in another direction went through, and so on.

It seemed alarmingly orderly, people waved each other through into mainstream traffic from side roads and at roundabouts, and life sort of went on as normal.

I stopped off at an office for a 9.30 appointment (and walked two whole flights of stairs!) and up there people were all saying the same thing: Wasn’t it amazing how everyone on the roads behaved? Wasn’t it actually pretty easy on the roads today?

Okay, there were a couple of morons -- ain’t there always? -- but in my morning out in the city and surrounds I didn’t witness anything remotely approaching what radio news people were breathlessly calling “chaos”.

Ah well, the weather and power cuts are always good for cheap drama and easy footage -- and in an hour I will watch the 6pm news to see “actual images” of the “chaos”.

However, I wish they'd focus on these dickheads on bikes who run lights, weave in and out of traffic like God gave them the right, and then blame drivers who accidentally bowl them over when they are coming from the wrong damn direction with no lights or even a florescent flag top warn us of their presence.

But that’s another story.

Today -- dickheads on bikes and a couple of others excepted -- I saw no evidence of “chaos”. Just ordinary people going about their business on an extraordinary day which demanded patience and tolerance.

Huh, I really must get out of the house more and find the drama in being an Aucklander on the quagmire of roads.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll go to this Sylvia Park that I keep hearing about on the news.

It has been some time since I had hate mail, and while I can’t say I miss it I always used to read the letters with interest and thought about what the people had to say. Then I chucked them away.

Hate mail wasn’t that common when I was at the Herald, but every now and again someone would fire something off, usually intemperate and you felt you could smell the wine on their hot breath as you opened the fat envelope. Typically hate mail runs to pages of uninterrupted bile.

I felt it best just to forget about them afterwards, the writer had got whatever it was off their pounding chest.

But the other day I got a piece of nasty mail, from someone I’d been trying to help. Events unravelled like this.

I still get bits of mail sent to me at the Herald and so every fortnight or so go in and pick up form letters, the odd CD and invitations to things which have usually been and gone.

About three weeks ago I picked up some stuff and among them was a large envelope. It contained a covering letter and about 12 pages of song lyrics.

The writer from the South Island asked if I would take her lyrics to various record companies as she was looking to get signed.

There were a few glaring problems with this approach of course: that it is not my job to take someone’s lyrics to record companies, least of all someone I don‘t know; that lyrics need to have a tune attached to be of interest to anyone, especially a record company; and that the author of the letter suffered from dyslexia and admitted as much. It was readily apparent.

So I read the letter and looked at the lyrics, all of which were appallingly spelled and sometimes had in a scribbled hand something along the lines of “like Neil Finn” at the bottom, which I take to mean the song was a sort of Crowded House thing.

Generally I admire people of ambition and I stand on my record of being helpful to aspiring writers, journalists, musicians and so on who come for advice, references for arts council grants and contact phone numbers. But this letter was just wishful thinking if not downright misguided.

So I sent off a reply (I could have ignored it, of course) which went along the following lines, that “with all due respect, I am a journalist and it is not my job to find a record company for you”. I then said that the copy of her lyrics as they stood would not impress anyone (“okay you are dyslexic, but why not get someone who isn’t to correct your spelling? That seems kinda obvious to me.”)

Then I went on to point out that record companies need to HEAR the songs so she should get a tape of them together. I suggested she ring their head offices in Auckland to find out specifically who to send the tapes to, and that she should add a covering letter (“correctly spelled”) with contact details and a stamped self-addressed envelope in case she wanted her tape returned.

I then pointed out that even if all this happened the likelihood of finding someone interested was very small, that in this country it is singer-songwriters who have success, not just people who write songs. I suggested getting a good professional singer to record the songs.

I then added that I was “sorry to be so blunt but you really need to put in a lot of time and do your homework rather than just throw out some song lyrics in the hope that someone somewhere sees your potential”.

I added that the music business is a BUSINESS.

I signed off “all the best” and noted after my signature “formerly of the New Zealand Herald” just to inform this person that I no longer worked at the place she had sent her letter to.

I thought then, and still think, all that was fair enough and I had taken to the time to respond to an unsolicited letter from someone wanting me to do something for free for them to help advance their career.

I didn’t expect thanks -- but I also didn’t expect hate mail.

The other day I picked up some stuff from the Herald again and there among the letters was a rejoinder from the songwriter in the South. She was nasty.

In what I took to be a satirical twist she quoted back my “with all due respect” then said that regarding the bad spelling it appeared that I was unable to get over myself (whatever that means).

She went on to say “while I don’t have a personal secretary to proof read all my emails and letters this does not stop me going forward and engaging with the world”.

She then asked that if someone told me they were deaf would I insist on a translator or ask them to speak louder, because that would obviously be a solution for me.

(Note: I am using corrected spelling here, lest it look like I am holding hers up for ridicule.)

She trumped me with, “while I may be dyslexic I can be glad that unlike you I am not stupid”.

She told me that regarding the music advice I offered she had already done all those things and had had airplay and interviews. (Pity she hadn’t mentioned that in the previous letter.)

Then she delivered the kicker, “clearly no one has ever asked your advice like this before hence the ridiculous response unlike many other professionals in the industry.”

(In a slightly amusing coincidence here I should note I picked up this letter after I had been at Mainz on the invitation of Harry Lyon -- for the second time in as many months -- to speak to his music students, this time about how to effectively market yourself to the media.)

She went on, “Perhaps this also explains why you are formerly of the New Zealand Herald to which I wonder why you sign your name in your past life”.

She signed her name and added “formerly gave a shxx (perhaps you can spell that)”

I read this with alarm at the amount of vitriol that had been poured into such a short letter and, as I have already observed because I do take such things seriously, I thought about it for a bit -- and then threw it away.

But then I rescued it from the rubbish (and from beneath day-old cat food which was very unpleasant) and considered it again.

Let us leave behind how abusive, personal and ill-informed it is -- on reflection my advice still seemed reasonable and such an angry response unwarranted -- and consider what I think is actually being said here.

It is not about whether my advice had been useful or honest or helpful or otherwise, it was about her claiming her “special-ness”, and that was what she couldn’t see past. I hadn’t criticised or condemned her for being dyslexic, I had merely offered that it seems obvious if you are going to communicate in a businesslike way with people then it’s a good idea to do it with clarity. I hadn’t suggested she have a proof reader, just that she might like to run it past someone to correct mistakes which she knew she had made.

Or does acknowledging in advance that you make mistakes render them somehow acceptable?

As the art critic Robert Hughes wrote in Culture of Complain, we live in a time when people are quick to claim their victim status. This is what the songwriter was doing: the subtext seemed to be, “I am dyslexic and so any criticism you make of me and my approach must be premised on the fact you have a problem with that“.

Well, sorry to tell you this songwriter. I don’t. I don’t actually care. I was offering what I thought to be useful advice and some wise counsel borne of years working in journalism, often at the cusp of the music business. I think the words I am looking for here are, she couldn’t get over herself. Whatever that means.

I have no idea whether this woman’s music is any good -- how could I know from pages of lyrics? -- but what I do know is that she can’t take advice (never a good sign if you hope to enter the public arena). I don’t envy the critic who doesn’t like her work and is prepared to say as much in print. That person will receive a very long letter I suspect.

Without wishing to go the whole Prince Charles and say some people shouldn’t rise above their station, it seems to me that many people -- using their shortcomings, disadvantages or personal problems as an excuse -- shift responsibility onto others. If this songwriter doesn’t make it for whatever reason can I guess it will be because people like me were not “supportive”?

But the music industry isn’t a support group, it isn’t a place where your go for therapy and healing. It is a business and if your songs are good you’ve got a chance.

I hate to tell anyone this, but it does seem to be borne out by experience: short, fat and ugly girls won’t be catwalk models; people who can’t hold a tune won’t win New Zealand Idol; people who can’t run fast won’t break sprint records.

I won’t ever be an All Black, an award-inning novelist or a movie star. I live with that.

Finally this though: what I also learned a long time ago was that personal matters should never intrude on professional responsibilities. I have no time for people who hold grudges, or harbour envy or resentment and allow that to impinge on their professional decisions. Personal feelings and professional responsibilities are very separate things.

So I threw that letter away sure in the knowledge that if she had occasion to approach me again -- because I have done this before with people who have been offensive, rude or spiteful -- that I would hold no animosity towards her despite her churlishness and intemperate rudeness.

If she is successful because her songs are good I will genuinely applaud that, not because she is dyslexic.

But I won’t be applauding louder because she did it despite a shit like me who obviously can’t get over myself. Whatever that means.

I suspect I am in a fairly small minority in this country: I have been to two Venice Biennales and -- here’s the punch line -- I paid my own way both times. More fool me, I like art.

When we went to Europe for two months at the end of last year I had three specific things I wanted to see: the moving painting of Pilgrims Going To Mecca by Leon Belly in the Musee d’Orsay in Paris (it was in storage!); Sir Norman Foster’s bridge at Millau in the south of France (it confirmed my belief that it is the first great piece of 21st century architecture); and a Venice Biennale again.

My first Biennale was in 99 and it was, to use the sophisticated language of the Art World, mind-blowing.

I won’t bore you with details of the genius, humour and provocative nature of the works on display. It’s enough to say that I vowed I’d get back to another, and Venice ain’t cheap.

And so last year I did, the added attraction being that New Zealand had an artistic presence there with et al. And we all know how that particular controversy played out here in the months leading up to the opening.

Without re-litigating the whole argument again let’s just say that the great art critics of our generation -- I refer to Paul Holmes and a few journalists whose round doesn‘t include the arts -- got hold of the wrong end of the stick and, as the metaphor-mixers say, started beating about the bush with it.

The whole “braying dunny” thing became a catch-phrase and it is regrettable to note that in today’s Herald reporter Derek Cheng once again falls into that particular hole. He says the work in Venice was “described by some as a portaloo that brayed like a donkey”.

Well, that would be strange if they did because that wasn’t the work in Venice, that was the previously controversial one which had been exhibited here.

Let us be clear -- again, for hopefully the very last time -- the installation that et al took to Venice had nothing to do with the so-called braying dunny. It was an entirely new work entitled Fundamental Practice.

I’m not a huge fan of et al’s stuff and couldn’t give a damn if the artist prefers to adopt some nom-de-collective and do no publicity. Being wilfully obscure is a career choice I suppose, and frankly I prefer that to those who gad about hoping to get their photos in a Sunday gossip page.

But that public anonymity as much as the “braying dunny” seemed to get many people, who had otherwise shown bugger all interest in the arts, very sweaty under the armpits.

Going to Venice I was curious to see how this new work would shape up in the context of the Biennale which is a fair bit of media hoopla and, I suspect, lots of visitors there on tax-payer funded grants, awards, research assignments and the like.

For those who haven’t been to a Biennale let me put it into some geographical context.

The main exhibition area is in the Giardini Pubblici, a good 20 minute walk from San Marco. Regular ferries can take you there in about five minutes. In the gardens are permanent exhibition spaces -- halls, converted palaces and so on -- and this is where the Big Name Countries hunker down. It takes a couple of days to get around and see everything, giving them all a decent bit of time.

But also scattered around Venice are dozens and dozens of other sites and spaces, and some are damn near impossible to find in the maze of blind alleys, canals and narrow streets. Then there are other art exhibitions which run to take advantage of the crowds for the Biennale. Last year Lucien Freud had a Really Big Show.

So once you add in the glitterati who come for the parties in opening week -- last year Ron Wood flew in with Tracey Emin, Jarvis Cocker was a DJ at a flash magazine’s party -- Venice can become a bit of see’n’be seen scene. Art slips down the agenda.

But that nonsense is all over pretty quickly and by the time I got there -- both in 99 and last year -- Venice had cooled down, both media-wise and literally. You could just wander around and look at the art. If you could find it.

On my return I wrote a piece for the Herald about the et al showing because I figured I might have been one of the few journalists from here who attended who had no discernable agenda: I hadn’t been there on a grant, and I was genuinely curious to see both what et al had shown and -- just as importantly -- where it was.

It was in good place, a rundown palazzo halfway between San Marco and the gardens, and well signposted. Terrific location, a real keeper I would think.

And of the exhibition itself?

Well, I liked it. The damn thing was difficult and demanding with lots of soundbites in the audio and disjointed, sometimes overtly political, snippets of information on a flickering screen, and sections that would suddenly creak to life to make it all even more disconcerting.

Fundamental Practice was never going to be a winner in the way that, say, Gilbert and George from the UK pulled out all the air-kissing and fluttering of hands. But it was something to see alright. Provocative and uneasy. I don’t mind that.

And so I said as much in what I wrote for the Herald. But I did also point out that -- despite what the enthusiastic woman at the desk might have wanted me to believe -- there weren’t too many people there. I also noted a few who arrived at what looked like a construction site saw the sign on entry which read: "All visitors must report to site office on arrival". They turned around and left.

I guess when you are thinking of the Big Picture you don’t notice the obvious: if it looks like a building site and the sign suggests it’s a building site then people will think it’s a building site.

Just something to consider when mounting an installation, I think.

Anyway the et al/Venice thing has come up again because now Creative NZ is considering how successful Fundamental Practice was, and whether we should have a presence at future Biennales in Venice.

For that Herald article last year I asked those questions and I thought the answers I got from commissioner Greg Burke and CNZ chairman Peter Biggs were fair and honest responses: at the time they said they were considering it carefully (it cost around $500,000 for a presence there, and I’d be interested to know how much of that was spent on junkets for arty people and selected media going over) and that it had been a success in terms of international exposure.

Of course there will always be a selective reading of what constitutes “success” -- as we have seen with sending rock bands to South by South West in Texas.

But I think Fundamental Practice -- even without the braying dunny -- was a demanding, problematic but ultimately powerful and affecting work. And by that measure, a success.

Now it seems that CNZ has listened to those who damned et al for her unwillingness to front up to the media and next time out they will be looking for someone more media tolerant. Okay, fair enough. A lesson learned by all perhaps.

According to today’s paper National’s Katherine Rich approves of that, but also says that when she criticised the selection of et al it was because she wanted an artist who would promote New Zealand and whose artwork reflected a Kiwi flavour.

Here is where I part company: that’s politico-speak and the Venice Biennale is not a forum for tourism initiatives. The artists have no obligation to “promote” their country of origin. Art doesn’t do that, people in the travel industry do.

I saw very little art -- actually none that I can recall -- at the Biennale which promoted the artist’s country of origin. Art’s not like that, Katherine.

If you want to get visitor numbers up here or showcase our pretty little country to the world then you already have forums in which to do that. The Venice Biennale is about art, and by definition it is individualistic, possibly even dissenting from prevailing ethics. Our artists at Venice aren’t there to sell some nice concept of New Zealand.

That argument suggests to me that we are still so uncertain of ourselves that we want people to like us. Look at our pretty pictures, aren’t we nice -- and by the way we’re nuclear-free.

Utter nonsense.

We should of course have a presence at the Venice Biennale and I’m a little disappointed there will be no New Zealand artist there in 2007 -- we are having a cup of tea and a lie down to assess the situation and do a value-for-money analysis apparently -- but I hope by then clearer heads with no political or tourism agenda will have prevailed.

And that I'll have saved up enough and be able to go again.