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I’ve only just got to Channel 4’s wonderful series The Piano. After each episode, I learn a little more about the incredible versatility and range of the instrument and am amazed by the diverse players, each one of whom is like a shy tulip, which fully blooms in a few weeks.
The only piano music I heard back in Uganda was in school, when enthusiastic drama teachers played tunes inexpertly and got us to belt out songs from famous musical films.
Here in London I’ve been to concerts and operas with my husband (he’s a buff), but never felt the surging emotions induced by The Piano.
After every episode, I’ve gone on to listen to recordings by Lang Lang and other celebrated classical and jazz pianists. Experts and devotees may be scornful of my amateurish new enthusiasm. Like I care.
But when participants are disrespected, I do care – very much. Many have endured misfortunes or have chronic problems. The luckiest got the chance to show us and develop their talent. Their flair and spirit stirred audiences.
Cynics and joy killers couldn’t bear that. A show without celebs? What’s the point? Little people rising to meet incredible challenges? Too emotional, too real.
Cruelty is out
OK, not everyone was moved. I get that. And paid critics are only doing their job. Even so, I found some of the contempt thrown at The Piano’s participants ugly and elitist, cheap and snide, emotionally illiterate and out of date.
The zeitgeist has moved on; we have been through a long period of anger, brute behaviours and humiliation on our media and online. People, I believe, are tired of all that. They want to see kindness, empathy, programmes and articles that connect them to other humans.
Why, even Simon Cowell is a gentle guide on Britain’s Got Talent these days. He gets the national mood.
Others don’t, yet. This week Quentin Letts, for example, penned a harsh column in the Daily Mail on Lib Dem leader Ed Davey‘s campaign, which has at points highlighted his caring roles. Letts’ column provoked public outrage. Times have changed.
John Humphrys and Jeremy Paxman belong to a previous era when macho posturing prevailed. Now it is the quietly confident Mishal Husain and ITV’s Paul Brand who are trusted and respected by the public.
Funny business
Let’s move onto comedy. Once the cruellest and most anti-PC jokers got to the top and some are still there – Ricky Gervais, for example, whose “edginess” was a cover for bad form.
Many of today’s best stand-ups are less bellicose and, actually, funnier. Some have subtly changed from the way they were.
Take Frank Skinner, bad boy turned 67-year-old. A reviewer of his Edinburgh show last August astutely observed that “Skinner seems more mellow, laidback and reflective than his younger self, but this gives the show a depth that is not often found in contemporary stand-up… this is stand-up at its very best”.
I would say that many other old hands have made that transition too. They know times have changed. And new arrivals are smashing it by being inclusive and nice. They make the world a better place.
Bethany Black – who is trans, a lesbian, autistic, and recovering from addiction – is one of the best of them. In a Guardian interview, she disdained comedians who complain they can’t joke about anything these days, when the sad truth is “people have stopped laughing at boring, tired old f**king stereotypes”. Her own credo is: “Make sure the jokes you’re doing aren’t adding to the horrible shittiness of the world.”
So, three cheers for The Piano, and all those who don’t add to the shitiness of the world and try to illuminate it instead, who enlighten people, make them smile or think, instead of pushing them towards empty anger and callousness.
Moving forward
D-Day, marked with great seriousness and respect, was a reminder of the West’s courageous fight against Hitler’s expansionism and the Nazi Jewish extermination project. For me, Rishi Sunak’s idiotic early dash from Normandy was a side dish. There were more serious matters to worry about.
Why, I wondered, are the millions of Russians who died on the eastern front still, shamefully disregarded? More troubling still was the rupture between that honourable past and the current political drift in Europe, the UK and the USA. Emmanuel Macron cautioned Western allies about their “dual standards” over Gaza and Ukraine: dix points. But they all still keep on arming one aggressor and fighting against the other.
The UN warns that more children have been killed or maimed in Gaza, the occupied territories and Israel than in any other conflict zone this year. Most victims are Palestinians. They are being killed before they can grow. Our leaders remain aloof and seemingly unconcerned.
Then came the EU election results. Populist far-right parties are gaining votes. And centre-right and social democratic parties are sucking up to the neo-Nazis. The skies are darkening. Never say never again.
A good conversation
I’d had a racking cough and painful throat for days. I didn’t want to bother my GP practice. By Sunday morning I could barely speak. My husband wanted to take me to an A&E department. Bad idea. I feared I would infect others and waiting for hours in a stuffed out room would be insufferable.
So, I found a walk-in pay clinic online, paid £100 and got an appointment for later that day. Yes, I know many Britons would never be able to afford the spend. And I totally believe in the NHS. But this time, I felt I had to get help fast.
Two efficient, young, sprightly British-Somali female receptionists took my details. The doctor was also a Somali woman who had trained in Rome and was clearly a rigorous practitioner, empathetic and charming too.
We talked about being immigrants, being multilingual and how education and work liberated the female spirit. Ten years ago, almost all Somali women stayed at home and lived in relative poverty. The progress they have made would have been unimaginable back then.
By Tuesday, the medication she prescribed had reduced the coughing fits. Today as I write this, I am almost back to normal. Nigel Farage should meet these ladies. They would teach him a thing or two.
Yasmin’s pick
While recuperating I listened to a pile of CDs – yes I am that old – which have lain there unheard and unloved for too long. So out came Sade, Elkie Brookes, Cat Stevens/Yusuf, Harry Belafonte, Alison Moyet, Billie Holliday, the Eagles, reggae stars, old Bollywood singers. I remembered how young and optimistic I was when I first heard “Morning has broken” and how Alison Moyet became my invisible friend during a painful divorce. A musical autobiography: everyone should have one.
This is In Conversation with Yasmin Alibhai-Brown, a subscriber-only newsletter from i. If you’d like to get this direct to your inbox, every single week, you can sign up here.