Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

No, this is not about the 1967 Sidney Poitier film, nor the 2005 remake. A week or so ago, I was struck by a very random, whimsical urge to poke around this old forum I was a part of in my youth. In fact, around the 2005 mark would have been one of the heights of my participation in this online community dedicated to the fandom of 24. If you’re looking for some strange duality between the title, its relation to a movie made in the year 2005, blah, blah. Looking at some of the things I wrote/said back then...well, I was a bit of a monumental prat in those days. I’m more a statuesque prat now, smaller than a monument but still pretty dull.

Anyway, I stumbled upon a thread started by a user known as Yil. He was quite the erudite, intelligent young chap. Quite on the ball as I remember it, astute observations...the kind of fellow you invite over for tea and cake, end up debating the merits of Nietzsche and Voltaire. Then retire for whiskey and cigars in the smoking room, with your high-backed, winged chairs and smoking jackets in front of a crackling fire.

In this particular thread, Yil asked who people would invite to their ideal dinner party. Six guests, living or dead. Back in 2004, when the question was posed, I had no answer. It was something that I didn’t even think about. Dinner party? What the frak was a dinner party?

Eleven years later, I have found myself contemplating which six guests would constitute my ideal dinner party:

1. Richard Feynman

Nobel Laureate in Physics, noted for his work on quantum electrodynamics, the Feynman Lectures and the Feynman Diagrams. A scientific genius, oft overshadowed in popular culture by Albert Einstein but every bit his equal, if not on some occasions his better. But more than anything, Feynman is a genuinely brilliant and fun human being. A series of YouTube videos posted by Reid Gower can attest to this. I’ve provided a link to one called “The Key to Science”. When Feynman explains what the key to science is...just brilliant. An amazing dinner guest.

2. Douglas Adams

One of the funniest writers in all existence. Let’s face it, all my guests after Feynman have been influenced by his placement on the guest list. Who work with Feynman? Well, having read The Salmon of Doubt and seeing just how deeply funny a man Douglas Adams was, I can only imagine the hilarity and good conversation that would ensue at the dinner table to have such a talented humorist as Adams and an irreverent scientist as Feynman...it would be beautiful.

3. Sir Terry Pratchett

The other funniest writer in all existence. Such a gifted and talented man whose worked has touched a generation and the effect of which will ripple onwards through time, a legacy to match the previous guest. The combination of wit and wisdoms from Feynman, Adams and Pratchett...I would have to keep a team of trauma surgeons on standby to repair the guts busted from laughter.

4. William Gibson

One of my all time favourite writers. As evidenced by a video I saw the other day, itself from 1994, quite the funny chap too. Although his writing is not outwardly intended to be funny, they are laced with fun little moments (my favourite in Zero History, where an American in London calls a Belgian with the name Bigend “Mr Bellend”. I maintain it was a nod to the British readers who know exactly when to use the term “Bellend”). Also, when conversational matters turned to more serious matters of science, Feynman and Gibson would be two very formidable visionary minds I think.

5. Sonya Belousova

Not all my guests would be writers and scientists. As much entertainment as they would bring through conversation, a good dinner party needs something else. Some music. And Sonya Belousova is an incredibly talented pianist. She does spectacularly awesome piano arrangements of theme tunes from TV, movies, video games. They’re amazing. I am also just a tiny bit love with her and would also use the dinner party as an opportunity to woo her. Undoubtedly. Check out her YouTube channel and tell me you wouldn’t too.

6. Bear McCreary

While my guests are gathered around the arbitrarily placed grand piano to hear some music and I want to impress Sonya rather than have her make me melt with her musical talents, I have a back-up plan. My other favourite composer and quite awesome pianist, Bear McCreary. For evidence of his piano talents, this video of my favourite song from Battlestar Galactica, “Something Dark is Coming”. Also I would have to pick his brains about Battlestar and all of the things. And make him play all of my favourite songs. Then have Sonya do the same, whilst settling down for whiskey and cigars with Feynman, Adams, Pratchett and Gibson.

There are, of course, many, many more awesome people I would love have at a dinner party. These guys are just the first round. Perhaps I should have monthly dinner parties, with different guests each time...hmmmm...well, anyway, those are my six ideal dinner party guests. What about you, dear readers? Who would your six be?

So Say We All

I’m breaking with the title traditions of SC 2.0 to go back to 1.0’s quotation titles for today. For today, I reflect upon my favourite television show, Battlestar Galactica, in light of the sad passing of the show’s original creator, Glen A. Larson.

A retrospective on what Galactica means to me has been something I’ve been contemplating doing for a long time. Dribs and drabs of information have been coming through for a while now – a couple of weeks ago I talked about the show’s score and Bear McCreary’s unrelenting musical genius. At the start of this year, my retrospective on 2013 featured photographic evidence of my Galactica-related tattoo and the vague origins of why it came to be. But I haven’t gone into a lot of depth of my history with the show.

It all starts with the BBC and the original 1979 Battlestar Galactica. BBC2, to be as precise as my dim recollection of those childhood days will allow. I was in my extremely early teens and every now and again, I would catch this random show on BBC2. It had evil robots, gallant fighter pilots, wise commanders but most importantly, it had big frakkin’ spaceships! I’d say I was hooked, but back then the only show I was religiously hooked on was The Simpsons. It would be a couple of years before I would start getting into things properly (such as Farscape, again BBC2 coming to the rescue there) and by then Galactica only appeared occasionally.

Now my family never owned Sky and the friends that did lived too far away, so in 2003 when the re-imagined Galactica mini-series hit the screens, I was only vaguely aware of what was going on. In 2004, when the full series came around, I was more aware from catching sight of it in the TV guide and thinking “Hey, that show” but thought little more of it. It would 2010 before Galactica truly came back into my life.

Through geekiness I shared with one of my university lecturers (who, through her wisdom in introducing me to Galactica has received the call sign “Athena”), I was lent the 2003 mini-series. A hostage-exchange of sorts, given that I had loaned Athena one of the seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Almost immediately I fell in love with the show. In the time that it was in my possession, I watched it over and over. When it came time to arrange the handover of prisoners, I received season one and proceeded to blitz through it. Then season two. Unable to contain myself, I bought seasons three and the final season (erroneously believing that it was both halves of season four. Upon realising my error, I ordered season four) and powering through them. On 25th August 2010, the day I went to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World for the first time, I also watched the final episodes of Battlestar Galactica. I won’t lie, I got a little choked up. I didn’t want it to end. And there’s something the Tigh and Adama discuss in an episode just before the grand finale that REALLY got me choked up.

The show’s legacy in my life is something that I know baffles and sometimes irritates people (especially my colleagues at work because they have to listen to it all the frakkin’ time). I have incorporated the term “frak” into my everyday vocabulary. There’s the tattoo and my tradition of assigning my friends ranks and call signs. It may utterly baffle, confound and irritate people with how deeply Galactica has been integrated into my life, but it is simply my favourite TV show ever. Once a crown claimed by Firefly, I had to pass it on. While I love Firefly, it’s not the best to me. Sure, it has spaceships, but it doesn’t have space battles. Or Bear McCreary’s score. Or the cast of Galactica, who are downright amazing. I want to give special kudos hear to one of the United Kingdom’s own, James Callis. His portrayal of Doctor Gaius “The Spineless” Baltar (“The Spineless” is a moniker I apply personally) is outstanding. Baltar’s character has a depth and complexity that make him incredibly compelling to watch. And this is just one of the many characters I love (or love to hate, in the case of Gaius frakkin’ Baltar).

I could go on and on, but I don’t think the point needs too much hammering home. Maybe just one final reflection. Given that this post was inspired by tragic passing of Galactica’s creator, it should be noted that without Glen A. Larson, none of this would have happened. Ronald D. Moore and David Eick wouldn’t have had  a series to re-imagine, I wouldn’t have fallen madly in love with it. I wouldn’t have had one of my earliest sci-fi influences. So here’s to you, Glen A. Larson. Thank you for having the idea and realising it. You will be missed.

Music Saves My Soul

There have been a curious set of developments in the last couple of days which are leading to something of a revamp of Sufficiently Cyberpunk. I say revamp. More...mild stylistic changes. We’re not talking News Night 2.0 from The Newsroom, though that analogy has crossed my mind. In a sense, this is Sufficiently Cyberpunk 2.0, but not to the same extent as News Night 2.0.

For some time-honoured context, the shift to SC 2.0 was triggered by a recent meeting in Bristol. I have mentioned once or twice that I work for Boston Tea Party. Currently, my illustrious employers have in the works a company blog. Being a writer and given that I have been banging my head against a wall for the last two or three years telling my bosses, “Hey, I’m a writer, I can write stuff for you. Please. Let me write stuff,” it is finally coming to a satisfying conclusion.

So last Thursday I was at our head office in Park Street, where along with some of the big-wigs (our heads of Food, Drinks, Marketing and People – the preferred term to Human Resources – to name a few) we sat down and talked about how to write an effect blog, true to Boston’s client base. I will admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect of this but it was a very productive and informative session. As a result, I am going to try and apply the things discussed there to this blog. One of them being post length. As much as I am liable to still ramble, my rambles will hopefully became less essay-like. More...concise, of a sort. No more than fifteen hundred words. At least that’s the aim.

Secondly, the titles. Away with the random quotations. A shame, I admit, but I most also confess that finding quotes for the last couple of posts has been tricky. They’ve been tacked on the end, instead of forming part of the conception of the post. Thus, away with quotation titles. Mostly. I might sneak the odd one in, when appropriate. I also won’t discount the idea of sneaking quotations into the posts themselves.

Speaking of titles, I should probably elaborate upon precisely why this first post of SC 2.0 has the title “Music Saves My Soul” and how it relates to the Boston blog. Simple. The freelance writer leading the session talked about a Channel 4 documentary called Don’t Stop the Music, which deals with the importance of music education and the related campaign by pianist James Rhodes.

First off, I am not a musician. I lack all musical talent. Any latent abilities in my family went to my sisters, as did a flair for artistic expression. I got the words, the knack for bending them to my will and using or misusing them according to whim. But nonetheless, music is something that I would regard as incredibly important to me. I cannot work without it. A soundtrack to a movie or TV show can tug at those heartstrings...well placed music, throughout life, can be a well of emotions, the source from which the stream of inspiration flows.

Back in 2009, there was a girl I had a major crush on. My friends conspired to help me do something about this – they arranged for an evening of television viewing where it would be them, me and this girl. The idea being I could finally make my move. I was nervous. Bordering on terrified. I was approaching a moment, a fork in the road where my actions could radically alter the dynamic this girl and I shared. Before going over to my friend’s house, I had to calm myself down. I listened to “Aqueous Transmission” by Incubus, to this day one of the most Zen and chilled songs I have ever encountered. One that never fails to calm me down. Lying on my floor for seven minutes and forty-six seconds gave me sufficient resolve to make a move (of sorts). While this girl and I never went being good friends, we are to this day still friends.

I also talk a lot about Battlestar Galactica being my favourite TV show. It’s got spaceships, explosions, head-frakkin’ storylines and complex characters. But it also has the absolute genius of Bear McCreary’s score. It really shines through in the second season, when McCreary steps out from the shadow of Richard Gibbs, composer for the mini-series who helped McCreary with the season one score. The music is just perfect, gorgeous instrumentals that are a feast for the ears. “Something Dark is Coming” from the episode “Lay Down Your Burdens, Part One” is a masterpiece. In the third season, a particularly delightful treat is “Battlestar Sonatica”.

When it comes to evoking emotions, there’s one track in particular I will cite. Fair warning, my explanation is likely to contain spoilers, so look away now if you want to avoid them.

“Resurrection Hub”. From the season four episode “The Hub”. In the episode, Colonial Fleet pilots, in conjunction with rebel Cylons, attack the Resurrection Hub, the central nexus for the Cylon ability to download their consciousness into new bodies – essentially cheating death. At the climax of the battle, the track strikes up as the Colonial pilots in their Vipers inflict massive damage on the Resurrection Hub, before firing salvos of nuclear missiles into it. As the music plays, as the nukes fly and strike, something...haunting hits you. Whenever I remember the song, as much as I love it, as much as it is a beautiful piece, there is something so poignant and funereal about it. Even though these are the Cylons, the bad guys, McCreary’s music makes me mourn the destruction of the Resurrection Hub.

This post has been a long time coming. I’ve wanted to wax lyrical about the genius of Bear McCreary’s compositions and it was discovering the Don’t Stop the Music campaign, hearing someone else talk about the importance of music to them, that I realised how to say it. Because it’s not just about Bear McCreary being a genius. It’s not just about the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy being a masterpiece of 70s and 80s popular music. It’s the impact music has on us, the emotions it evokes from us, the joy we derive in listening, composing, playing. So, in addition to waving a flag of geeky appreciation for Bear McCreary, here’s a flag for the importance of music. Learning to play it and just listen and appreciate it. Don’t Stop the Music. It’s easy to support. If you have any musical instruments looking like Halloween decorations from all the cobwebs and dust gathering upon them, take them along to a local Oxfam and donate it. To find out how to do more, visit http://www.dontstopthemusic.co.uk

I can’t play an instrument, but when I’m writing, music saves my soul.