Why I’ve a problem with “No problem!”

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OK, here comes this year’s silly season, apropos nothing, totally off-the-wall post.

Fly in the soup

At a restaurant not long ago, my friend and I were served by a waitress who was both able and pleasant.  The only fly in the soup was that in response to everything – and I do mean everything – we said or even in response to nothing at all, she would say “No problem!”

“Do you have a table please?“ – “No problem!”
“That’s great, thanks” (upon being shown to our table) – “No problem!”
“Thank you” (for setting the table) – “No problem!”
“Ah, we haven’t quite decided yet…” – “No problem!”

And so it went on.  Each course arrived “No problem!” as did the wine and tap water and I think she might even have said “No problem!” as we exited through the doors.

Pat little phrase

Anything repeated ad nauseum becomes annoying but hearing this pat little phrase perhaps two dozen times (well it felt like it) over two hours brought home how it’s become the de rigeur, catch all response of our times.

Every era has one.  Which swinging 60s film has the young female lead repeating a bemused, bedazzled “Super!”?  Then there’s the hippy era’s “Groovy!” even if perhaps mostly in mythology.

Ours is not ‘Perfect!’ as proposed by a New Statesman columnist recently but this problematic little proposition.

Problem solving

So why do I have a problem with no problem?  Because why would there be a problem?  We were in a restaurant doing what people do, following the etiquette, enjoying our food, paying the bill, leaving a tip and the waitress was doing her job.  Why would we need multiple, ongoing confirmations that there isn’t a problem?

I suppose it’s trying to say “Nothing is too much trouble” except I don’t hear it like that.  “No problem!” is like the lesser relative of EastEnders’ bully boy Phil Mitchell’s “You got a problem?”  The phrase comes tainted with latent aggression.  It implies that the graciousness of declaring all is well is entirely the prerogative of the no-problemer.  It takes back power, is designed to induce unease.  It’s saying: I don’t have a problem with you right now, but If that changes you’ll soon know about it.

So please may we dispense with this robotic, passively aggressive patois?

How about adopting the charming and embracing “Prego!” (“You’re welcome!”) of Italian restaurants?  I’d have no problem with that.

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The Songs of Scott Walker review

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The Songs of Scott Walker (1967-70), [Prom 15, Royal Albert Hall London, Tuesday 25th July 10.15pm, tx. Friday 28th July, 10.00-11.25pm, BBC Four] celebrated Scott Walker’s four plus one solo albums from the late 60s through interpretations by Jarvis Cocker, John Grant, Richard Hawley and Susanne Sundfør.  This review is of Friday night’s broadcast.

In an interview shortly before the concert, Walker urged the performers to ‘make it as new as you can’.  In the event, a largely respectful tone was taken.  Perhaps the clue was in the so called Heritage Orchestra.

Not quite copyists

A copyist approach could be justified as it allowed us to hear for the first time live, material which had hitherto been restricted to vinyl as Scott never promoted Scott 1-4 through concerts and tours in the late 60s.

Karaoke was avoided by allowing the individual tones and textures of the artists to inform and occasionally uplift the songs.  So we had Jarvis Cocker’s husky hesitancy, Richard Hawley’s benevolent burr, John Grant’s faultless efficiency and something altogether idiosyncratic and more interesting from Susanne Sundfør.  On The Amorous Humphrey Plugg, she led the orchestra on the evening’s best performance, stronger than her stripped down On Your Own Again which got all the attention.

Unassailable beauty

Scott 1-4 is virtually unassailable in its beauty which presents a problem for any artist attempting a cover.  How can you better Scott’s Boy Child or It’s Raining Today?  You can’t, but you can show the depths of your appreciation by paying tribute.  I didn’t hear anything on Friday night to challenge the supremacy of the originals.  The interpretations tended towards friendly fare or hushed after-dinner devotions (this was a late night prom).

Nobody could doubt Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley’s sincerity but Scott’s classical precision and nuanced delivery were missing – and missed.  It’s these formal qualities of economy and attention to every detail along with the scrupulous thoughtfulness of the orchestration which, on vinyl, lifts already extraordinary material to the greatest heights.

Subtle discipline

When you mention Scott 1-4, everyone gushes about lush romanticism but isn’t it the discipline and subtlety of the albums which marks them out?  I’d like to hear a Scott 1-4 selection performed by top, contemporary, classically trained vocalists perhaps accompanied by a chamber ensemble.

This is an approach which might have worked – actively acknowledging the classicism of the source material, its erudition, its refinement.

Compromised poise

On occasions, the Heritage Orchestra under Jules Buckley compromised poise, as if wanting to rush through the songs, not quite allowing them room to fully breathe.  Subtle phrasing, pregnant pauses, an almost imperceptible ebb and flow were flattened slightly.

These interpretations sailed too close to the originals and thereby highlighted their own shortcomings.  ‘Make it as new as you can’ might have meant the cracking whips and pounding meat of Scott’s later works like The Drift and Bish Bosch an approach which, although harder on the ears, would have obliterated comparisons.


The covers:
Jarvis Cocker: Boy Child, Plastic Palace People, The War is Over (Sleepers), Little Things (That Keep Us Together).

Susanne Sundfor: On Your Own Again, Angels of Ashes, The Amorous Humphrey Plugg, Hero of the War.

John Grant: Rosemary, The World’s Strongest Man, Copenhagen, The Seventh Seal.

Richard Hawley: It’s Raining Today, Two Ragged Soldiers, Montague Terrace (in Blue), The Old Man’s Back Again (Dedicated to the Neo-Stalinest Regime).