Tim Robson's Blog

Overview of SPQR

SPQR ( Senatus Populus Que Romanus meaning, for the Senate and People of Rome, the indelible banner stamped below the eagle standards of the Roman legions) is a chunky book that traces Rome from its beginnings as a bandit village in the 750’s BC through to the grant of universal citizenship across the empire by Caracalla in 212 AD. A period of nearly a thousand years. Or, as Mary Beard writes, Rome’s first millennium. As we all know, the Western Roman Empire continued for another 250 years whereas the Eastern Roman Empire - popularly now known as the Byzantium Empire - lasted for a further 1200 years until its eventual fall in 1453.

The problem with any book spanning a thousand years of history is that - no matter how large - it can only give a surface presentation of the narrative as it moves along. There’s no in depth analysis of each event. If you want that, then specialist books are what you need and that’s what I usually prefer. I get frustrated that the author is, necessarily, constrained and so has to arbitrarily choose what to include and what to leave out. That applies here (Marius and the Cimbrian War hardly get a mention for instance). However, I was gifted this book and so once I started, I needed to finish!

The first part of SPQR, covering the foundation and growth of the Republic through to its subsequent transformation under Augustus in the latter part of the 1st century BC, is episodic but essentially follows a linear narrative. The following 200 odd years, detailing the period of the ‘Principate’ emperors, feels much more rushed and frustratingly thematic. As though Mary ran out of steam. The problem with this latter half of the book is the tendency to indulge in what I call ‘magpie’ historicism - selecting random examples from a wide variety of ages to justify an argument. Part of this is due to the periodic lack of sources handed down to us across the ages. Was Rome’s most thrilling period - the fall of the Republic - so famous because it marked a major turning point or because the surviving source material is so rich?

Why did the Roman’s Succeed?

The central question of any book covering a thousand years is why Rome went from being a tribe of brigands in central Italy to a world power. The usual suspects are present in this book - the Romans’ love of adaption - in army tactics, in building, even in gods. Mary Beard advances that Rome was unique in its ability to absorb its defeated enemies, from Veii, to the Sabines, the Samnites etc, in a loose embrace so all might prosper. The Romans weren’t fussy about local gods or systems of government, they co-opted them. What however was sine qua non was the supply of manpower for wars.

As to the question whether the Romans better in battle or just able to muster more men, Mary Beard believes that - with technology the same, the largest army was predisposed to win. It’s an argument and a plausible if obvious one. There is some truth to this. For example, the Second Punic War where Hannibal, clearly the better general, could win the battles but never the war. Rome kept recruiting armies, harassing the Carthaginians and recapturing towns, in order to continue fighting even when all seemed lost. That was, until they found their own master tactician in Scipio Africanus. Another example may be the most famous if only due to the popular adage that it spawned following the Battle of Asculum. Fighting King Pyrrhus in the 270’s BC, the Romans kept losing battles but extracted unsustainable casualties on Pyrrhus, thus giving rise to the popular phrase “Pyrrhic victory”.

What are my thoughts on SPQR?

I think my major objection to this type of book is that it clearly comes from an academic. Nothing wrong with that, of course. However, there is hair-splitting and ‘on the one hand, but on the other’ isms that can annoy after a while. Much of the book seems to be negative; finding a popular story or commonly held piece of knowledge and then finding issues with it. It’s a tendency I like least in academics, the pursuit of the obscure in preference to the universal. At best this can advance knowledge and provide balance to a flabby prevailing narrative, at worst, it can be obscurantist and distorting. You can lose the big picture by being needlessly pedantic and argumentative. In broad based books - like this - the approach can lose the narrative thrust in a welter of qualifications.

Maybe it wasn’t the book for me but then I never expected it to be. I’ve long moved beyond large overviews of the Roman world - however scholarly - and into more niche areas like Julian or Aurelian. Or source material like Caesar, Appian or Josephus. It’s a choice you make after reading generalist books like these which doesn’t diminish their worth and shouldn’t stop you reading if you’re relatively new to the subject.

A couple of factoids

The word rostrum, for a speaker’s platform, comes from the Latin word for a ship’s ram (rostra). After the naval battle of Antium in 338bc, the victorious commander of the Roman fleet, Gaius Maenius, took the rams from six captured enemy ships and placed them on the platform in the Forum. Hence rostrum.

“They make a wasteland and call it peace,” said Calgacus, ancient British leader, as quoted by Roman historian Tacitus. An interesting quote (wasteland can be interrupted as ‘desert’ or ‘desolation’) which shows as much about Roman freedom of thought to write this down as it does a critique of Roman pacification efforts. Rome usually was magnanimous in victory, the exceptions (like Caesar’s massacre of the Tencteri and Usipetes) providing the exceptions to the rule. They wanted money, taxes, slaves, markets and manpower for the army.

(Revised and updated April 2026 with corrections, links and new thoughts)

Want to Read more on Rome?

For further Roman reviews, try Josephus and The Jewish Wars or what about my Barbarians TV series review? Or go for my history of Rome series?

Or something different? Go to my Features page - More Rome, Urban Noir City Reviews, Walks or Music Reviews?

Mick Taylor - Out in front

The Greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll Band

It's not a secret that I think the Stones were at their best - live - between 1969 and 1973. Collectively these years are known - by those who know these things - as The Mick Taylor Years. During this period, the Stones sported serious lead guitar muscle to match the chops and riffs of Keith Richard. This really was their live golden era (nothing though can match their recordings 1963-1969. Of course).

I won't get into any nonsense about Mick Taylor being the Stones. Clearly, Mick and Keef are obviously the beating heart of the Stones. They are the songwriters, the visual focal point, the direction, but with Mick Taylor, they now participated in the best live incarnation of “The Greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll Band in The World!”

It's one of the reasons - there are a few - why I don't go to see the Stones now. I'm their Number One fan but, pathetically, I want to see them in 1971 with Mick Taylor and not in 2026. I know, I know - I'm complex, capricious and not a little nuts. Deal with it, ladies.

So, onto Mick Taylor and the magic runs and solos he used to such incendiary effect back in the day when flares and drag queen make up marked a rock band. I'll trace Mick Taylor's development and influence in the band through one song over the years 1969, 1971, 1972, 1973.*

Street Fighting Guitarist

Street Fighting Man. Yes, it used to be the Stones’ powerhouse closer. It’s a riff laden ditty that combined fighting lyrics with punchy guitar. One word of caution though!! As I listen to live versions of this song 69-73, what is most noticeable - apart from the gradual rise in prominence of Mick Taylor's lead guitar - is the concomitant deterioration in quality of Jagger's singing. You can't discount the fact that a sloppy, word shortening, dicking about Jagger screws up the overall ambience of any performance. That is a shame because as Taylor gets better, Jagger gets worse.

So, back in 1969, Singer Mick cares and sings and articulates his words. By 1973, he's fucking about and missing out words and shouting. Frustratingly, whatever Guitar Mick did on guitar - if the lead singer is acting like a tit - the band is gonna sound worse. As it happens, I actually think by ’73 such was Taylor's shy dominance, he was getting too far to the front of the Stones. Yes, some of his stuff started to sound like guitar wank. Yes, you CAN have too much MT. Too many notes as they said of Mozart.

1969 - Get Your Ya Ya's Out

Jagger to the fore – “Get Down, boy!” (though there's more than a suspicion of studio touching up). Taylor sticking to the proscribed and approved lead lines. He often just riffs along with Keith which is no bad thing but that’s not why you have a shit hot soloist in the band now is it? As in all versions, Wyman's bass is awesome - propelling the group, shaking the earth and rooting the group in a solid foundation. The Stones as a group in front of 20,000 at Madison Square Garden.

1971 - Get Your Leeds Lungs Out.

Cards on table, I happen to think this is the Stones' greatest ever gig. They are on fire in this small-scale club setting. Taylor's more experimental on his lead lines than ’69 - his trademark fluidity is now evident. The melody lines he fingers, the vibrato he gets from his axe, all mark this version; it’s still a great group effort but this time propelled forward by MT.  Keef’s unusually ‘dirty’ guitar provides a perfect foil to the MT’s lyricism. But as Taylor ascends, Jagger begins to descend, cutting out words, beginning to shout more than sing. But not too much, yet. This is the summit.

1972 - Ladies and Gentlemen...

My it's a close one! The tempo is too quick and Jagger is seriously not singing anymore. But Mick Taylor is kicking guitar ass! Keith gives good backing but it's now the Mick Taylor show. The close is built around MT soloing like a bastard Velvet Underground style. Watch the video below as his fingers - always in control - fly over the fretboard. This is a guitarist knowing he’s the Dog’s Bollocks and beginning to assert himself.

1973 – A Brussels Affair

It’s played too quick and Jagger is now not really giving a fuck about singing – just yelping and swallowing words. I’m sure he looked good but any artistry has gone. However, as Jagger morphs into a Mick Jagger caricature, the music of the Stones has become Mick Taylor and supporting band. I love his sustained note at the end of the final chorus where the live band mimic the clarion ending of the recording. And then we’re into a Sister Ray freak-out fade-out as the group get faster and faster and MT has a completely free hand to solo wherever and however he wants. Distressingly - freed from the discipline and control of the Stones’ format -  he seems to distressingly to run out of ideas. The end of this track – to my ears – is welcome. It probably felt better on the night.

Verdict of Mick Taylor Live

And there we have it – the Mick Taylor years with the Rolling Stones told through versions of just one song over the years. What can we conclude from this pub conversation with myself?

He’s clearly talented, dextrous and knows how to add lyrical lead lines to the riffs of the premier rock group of the era. Mick Taylor operates best when there’s a format he has to fit in with. Here, constrained, he can shine, do the unexpected and sound fresh and exciting. By the end of this period though – 1973 – when Jagger had become a parody and Keith retreated into drugs and strictly rhythm, MT ever so slightly starts to become annoying. It’s really not the Stones.

And the Winner Is?

So – in what order do I rank the years? I’m sure of the best and the worst. Last, 1973 might be a bit controversial but deal with it, ladies. Second and third place are a bit arbitrary and, in another mood, in another place, I’d rank them differently, but here, now and tonight, the 69 tour version beats Ladies and Gentlemen…

1. 1971

2. 1969

3. 1972

4. 1973

More? You all want More!

Mick Taylor kicking Keef’s Ass on Sympathy for the Devil

Mick Taylor’s Greatest Studio Tracks

I know you love it, Taylor Swift live review

Or the mysterious girl who revealed too much to the Writer in a bar in Bruges?

The Blog RSS Silent footage with an unreleased live version of Street Fighting Man added as a soundtrack. both were recorded suring the stones 1972 STP American Tour

 

* Not yet unearthed a decent 1970 performance.

Mick and Keef. The other Mick

The First Time I Heard the live Sympathy For The Devil

They say the Devil has all the good tunes (except when he goes down to Georgia, of course!). But perhaps just sympathising with Old Nick also conjures up a decent tune too.

I remember the first Stones album I bought myself. I was 15. Coming off the back of a couple of Greatest Hits compilations, I went and bought the live album Get Yer Ya Ya's Out. Live albums can often be a mistake as they tend to offer thin, over-emoting, out-of-tune and unnecessarily long versions of well-loved – and crafted - studio songs.

But not so Get Yer Ya Ya's Out...

The Stones 1969 Live Tour

It's a tour album commemorating the infamous 1969 US Tour - yes the one that ended with the screw up that was Altamont. I come back to this album frequently. I can safely say; I learnt to play guitar strumming along with this album. Recorded at Madison Square Garden, it captures the Stones as they transitioned away from Brian Jones and into the demi-god led outfit that included Mick Taylor. Finally, the Stones had some serious lead guitar muscle to complement the Human Riff, Keef. They would get better in the next couple of years, but this is the only official live album of the Stones Mark 2 line up.

My fav track was Track 1 / Side 2: Sympathy for the Devil. (“Paint It Black you devils! Do Paint It Black!”) E-D-A verses dropping to B for the chorus. Brilliant to play along with and attempt the extended guitar solo at the end of the track. Yes, I learnt my pitiful lead axeman skills from this track. Well at least for the first minutes of the solo anyway! Because suddenly the solo gets hard - real hard. What is a rhythm guitarist's best ever solo morphs into a shit-hot guitar hero work-out. You can hear the change about 4:30 into the track. It’s almost as though Keef took a snort half way through and felt emboldened to shout "Oi! Hendrix, Clapton - come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough!"

The Two Different Solos - Mick Taylor to the Fore

But YouTube and the internet have revealed the mystery behind the split personality on Sympathy for the Devil’s guitar solo. For of course – Keef plays the first half and then hands over to Mick Taylor. In less than two minutes, Mick Taylor pisses on Richards and - in the cock-measuring contest that was the Stones – for the next five years, never again would Keith attempt to challenge Taylor. There has only ever been one lead guitarist in the Stones and his name was Mick Taylor.

I’ve written more about this golden era of the Stones. When they really deserved the moniker ‘The Greatest Rock n Roll Band in the World’. But for now, listen to this audio and you’ll see what I mean. Keef starts soloing at 3:18. Mick Taylor takes over the baton at 4:30 and from 5:20 streaks down the back straight to take the tape, the Gold Medal, the whole bloody stadium.

As I said, the Stones would get better after 1969. Taylor would get more confident – aware that his fluid, melodic soloing would propel songs like Midnight Rambler, Gimme Shelter, Street Fighting Man to ever higher levels. But Get Your Ya Ya’s Out is where it began and, on Sympathy for the Devil, you can hear him shyly but definitely, take over the band’s sound.

Enjoy.

More Mick Taylor? Or something for weekend, sir?

Mick Taylor’s greatest Stone song?

Mick Taylor’s Greatest Studio tracks?

Or what about when I was announced as Eric Clapton at Chicago’s Kingston Mines?

The Blog RSS 'GET YER YA YA'S OUT!' Solitary Man / Solitary Note

Revised April 2026 with a cleaner URL, some H2/H3 headings and a finger picking, fist pumping, click baiting attitude. Read my Urban Noir Stories. Like this, you’ll love them!

Iconic Doisneau photograph

Is art preference an indication of character? What do the paintings or photos that we place on our walls say about how we perceive ourselves? About how we wish to be perceived by others?

For almost as long as I can remember, I have placed pictures on my walls. Blue tac, pins; nothing seemed to be framed back in the day. What I liked, I stuck up, starting with posters of football teams, Elvis, The Beatles, leading - from 16 onwards - to real 6*4 pictures from my own life - mug shots freeze framed into vanishing history. Hilariously - it now seems - I also pinned up letters from cabinet ministers and MPs (I collected MP’s signatures like others might popstars or film icons).

Doisneau and the University Bedroom

What posters did I have on my university dorm room walls? Debbie Harry. Raquel Welsh. The Beatles. But I was most proud of a large (and expensive) black and white print of Robert Doisneau’s “Le Baiser de l’hotel de Ville”. Although the photo was taken in March 1950 for Life magazine, it lay forgotten for decades. At the prompting of his publishers though, Doisneau had - in the mid 80’s - sanctioned the image to be rereleased in poster form. Not long after, I saw it in a Brighton shop (Virgin Megastore? HMV? Athena?) and immediately liked it. So I bought it and up it went up onto my Sussex University dorm room wall.

How cool was I?

I probably thought I was just as cool as the guy kissing the girl in the photo. But in reality I was definitely more like the the guy in the beret unwittingly walking past the lovers just as the photo was being taken! Actually, entre nous, I read some story that this stereotypical French mec was an Irishman called Bert on a motorcycling tour of Europe who randomly happened to be in Paris that day. Who knows? Even the identity of the couple kissing was firstly, shrouded in mystery and then secondly, disputed in the courts. Turns out they were both actors / models and were paid for this semi staged tableau.

But why does this photo call to me even now?

Voyeurism?

Well, it’s not the voyeurism, the thrilling sense that we are encroaching on the lovers’ private moment. The angle of the shot from the cafe table looking outwards suggests a photo illicitly taken, grabbed furtively. Perhaps the photographer had his camera on the table and clicked the button at the perfect moment or maybe he was pretending to reset his lens and snuck a shot. Some may like this aspect of stolen moments but I always thought the mise en scene a little too perfect to be a lucky shot; it is - and was - artfully staged.

Time and Place?

Is it the sense of time and place? A fleeting glimpse of world now gone reflecting back at us through the camera? That’s closer. Like children running after a balloon floating above Montmartre , or policemen in caps and capes directing jaunty deux chevaux around the Arc de Triomphe, the picture documents a Paris remembered but lost. This type of reportage of daily life is what Doisneau is best known for. I have a marvellous and chunky photo book of his Paris shots - during and just after the war - which detail life on the streets and in the bars. Smiling faces gaze back at me, so sure, so real but so impermanent.

Carefree Young Love?

Or is it the picture of young love, so carefree, so intense, before life intrudes and ennui gradually chokes off the heady dopamine? This feeling never lasts and is as fleeting as a freeze frame from a video; a frozen moment captured out of time and pulled roughly to the fore. This picture captures the apex of young love, in Paris no less, and as such it represents an ideal of something for which we all search. I know people who are ever tumbling into the vortex of new love, always looking for that elusive high, ever disappointed when it never lasts. I also know people who continually think past the sale and so, to avoid the fall, avoid the climb and never experience the heights.

It’s all our pasts and all our dreams, a once and future representation of humanity. And I think it represents optimism and that, following all the words, is why this picture is on my wall.

April 2026 - TR House

Post Script

I don’t know what happened to the original poster. I don’t believe it survived the 1980’s. Why it was discarded, is lost in time, just like the Paris of 1950. However, I have re-bought the print and it is once again featured prominently chez-Robson amongst the numerous Hoppers and James Hardaker originals. That feels right somehow.

Read More

For more Paris related stories what about my travels to Palais Garnier? Or the traction beam of walking to Bastille?

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The Kingsmen, Louie Louie

The Five Records That Created Rock Music

Sometimes I amuse myself.

Chortle.

Sometimes I amuse myself by imaging the origins of hard rock. How did music get from, say, Neil Sedaka and The Everly Brothers in 1960 all the way to Led Zeppelin in 1968? Nothing wrong with Sedaka or The Everlys of course. Their switch of record labels in 1960 to Warners kick started - in my opinion - their best records, epitomised by the wonder that is ‘Cathy’s Clown”. But something happened between ‘60 and ‘69. Music began to go all the way to 11.

So this is a blogpost that traces that development of hard rock, heavy rock and punk in just five 60's records.

Caveat: Those that came before…

Caveat (for there must be one). By selecting five early 60's records, one doesn't deny the journey up to that point. Muddy Waters riffing like a bastard. Little Richard amping up the vocals. Chuck Berry giving every subsequent guitarist a rock blueprint. And Elvis. Of course Elvis. But, where to start? As I've written before, you can trace rock back to Beethoven's thunderous riffs, Vivaldi's repeated motifs in, say, his Mandolin Concerto in C. But I'll restrict my journey to the first half of the 60's or else I will disappear up my own arse (again).

What am I looking for? Anger. Loud overdriven guitars. A sense of musical anarchy barely held in check. Riffs. Screaming singers. All the way to eleven. On a Marshall amp. So here is my list of the five stepping stones from pop to heavy rock.

1. The Beatles - Twist and Shout (Feb 1963)

Yeah, everyone knows this song and The Beatles version. One of the Beatles best ever covers (up with Long Tall Sally, Dizzy Miss Lizzie, Bad Boy, Money). But what propels this song forward is John Lennon’s vocals. If he did nothing else, he’d be remembered for this performance. After a full day recording the Please Please Me album, Lennon audibly shreds his larynx as he provides one of rock's greatest vocals. The instrumentation is so-so, a standard early sixties beat combo sound. It's the singing, the call and response, the AH-AH-AH-AH-WOOO bit that makes this song special. Compare the muscular and aggressive Beatles' version against The Isley Brothers' original. No contest. Lennon pisses on them and kick starts heavy rock.

2. The Kingsmen - Louie Louie (April 1963)

When researching this (seriously Tim?) I found that Louie Louie was recorded after The Beatles' Twist & Shout by two months. Who knew? Who cares? Massive hit in the 60's. Revived in the 70's for the film Animal House. What can one say about this? An absolute shocker of a recording, slapdash, careless, badly recorded. A total fuck up. But in that carefree, shouty, riff heavy style, we have the embryo hard rock and punk. It was recorded in just one take for $50 with singer Jack Ely yelling as loud as he could at a mic lodged above his head just so he could be heard above the instruments. A million pub rock bands heard this and learnt the way forward. Inspiring.

3. The Rolling Stones - I Wanna Be Your Man (Nov 1963)

It's not often The Beatles and The Stones went head to head. But - song hustling - John and Paul gave the young Stones this song to help get the London boys into the charts (number 12). The Beatles went on to record I Wanna Be Your Man themselves for the With The Beatles Album. Now, whilst The Beatles version is polished and lively, The Stones go straight for the balls. Or more to say, Brian Jones does. The ferocity and aggression he gives to his slide guitar lead is a wonder to behold. He did it one take. Bizarrely,  this track is not heard much these days. First time I heard it, way after other Stones stuff - as it's not on an album nor on most Greatest Hits compilations - I was blown away with Jones' wall of noise. 1963? Are you kidding me? But it is step three onto heavy rock. 

4. The Kinks - You Really Got Me (1964)

Riff heaven. Taking up the baton from the Kingsmen and amping up the power London style. Guitarist Dave Davis creates the song's dynamic. He cut his amp with a razor blade to create the fuzzy, 'heavy' sound. Rock is born! He then throws out a volley of notes in the solo; mad, nonsensical but the inspiration for many a guitarist's solo (I include myself here!). Long rumoured to be played by session man and pre Led Zep Jimmy Page, it was in fact Dave Davis. The first song you can really head bang to. And air guitar.

5. The Who - My Generation (1965)

The song where it all comes together! Riffs, heavy guitar sound, fucking mental rhythm section, powerful singer. Feedback. Anarchy. Power. Driven by The Ox and Moonie; their powerful backing gives Townsend the space to riff away and Daltrey to stutter like a pilled up prick chucked in front of a mic at closing time shouting out his story. The final minute where Moon goes mad, Daltrey screams and Townsend and Entwhistle lock together is one of rock's finest moments. It is this that points to the future - not least during The Who's own guitar smashing versions of this very song. The path is is now open for the Who to charge towards rock's finest moment - 'Won't Get Fooled Again’.

Watch The Who in their best ‘Fuk Da Hippies’ mood at Monterey 1967 below.

Read on / Rock On?

Read about the time I was introduced as Eric Clapton onto Kingston Mines Chicago’s stage wearing a long overcoat as drunk and with no chops!

Or maybe the best underground 60’s songs?

All music pieces can be found in my music archive. Wormhole alert!

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Reposted and rewritten from August 2016 

“Ye shall know them by their fruits”

— Matthew 7:16 (KJV)

We all know that in the Mick Taylor Years (1969 / 74) the Rolling Stones were at their live peak. He added a real lead guitar muscle to complement their riff heavy catalogue. They went from being great to being the best. Watching the Stones in this period ranks - with me anyway - alongside watching Elvis 1969-72.  Yeah, two great acts at their peak at the same time. Saw neither. Thank goodness for YouTube.

Apparently Keith Richards once told Mick Taylor he was great live but shit in the studio. There's a ring of truth to this - even if it was overstated. Taylor certainly was less dominant in the Stones albums he played on. Maybe he knew he was being shafted for song writing credits. Maybe Mick and Keef overshadowed MT when it came to controlling who did what and when. They certainly bossed the mixing desk. Playing live they didn't have the same control.

But dig (not too deep) and you have some classic Mick Taylor performances committed to vinyl. 

I've tried to filter out songs where he was just 'one of the band' and purposefully pick songs where it's absolutely all about Mick Taylor. Agree? Disagree? Tell me in the comments.

Mick Taylor appeared on Stones albums between 1969 and 1973*. They are Let It Bleed (just a little) and then Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main Street, Goat's Head Soup and It's Only Rock n Roll plus the live album Get Yer Ya Ya's Out. 

To me, I'd probably rank them Sticky Fingers, Goat's Head Soup, Exile on Main Street, It's Only Rock n Roll. Which is strange as my favourite MT tracks appear on It's Only Rock n Roll. 

Sway - Sticky Fingers (1971)

Keith was absent and so the two Micks fooled around in the studio together, coming up with this gem. A real guitar-heavy rocker, taken at a stately pace, it's one of those Stone tracks that should be better known but it's cult like obscurity makes me feel good I'm in the know. As does my possession of an original Andy Warhol designed jeans zip cover (framed and on my wall next to 8/9 others of similar vintage). This was, for a while, my fav Stones track. Jagger sings exceptionally on this - as demonstrated by his later, pitiful, attempt on the 2013 tour. MT's guitars are hard, the solos fluid - slide and then full on rock solo as the track ends. One to look up if you don't know it.

Winter - Goats Head Soup (1973)

Winter is one of those epic ballads the Stones seemed to just knock off in their sleep in the mid 70's (Angie, Memory Motel, Fool to Cry, Coming Down Again). Just like Sway, it features no Keith Richards. What separates this from the others is the Mick Taylor guitar solo which is both powerful and incendiary. Taylor had a way of complementing Jagger's vocal lines, adding fillers and runs throughout the song. Like he would do when the Stones played live. Many people rate this his best solo. I enjoy it but, no, it would be bettered the following year.

Can't you Hear Me Knocking - Sticky Fingers (1971)

It starts with a Keef riff and then, according to MT, when everyone was putting their instruments down at the end of the song, the groove just continued - first Bobby Keyes on sax and then, the Master Mick, the God of guitar (virtuosity be his name) started soloing. One take. Not rehearsed. As live as you can get and this is the result. The Stones should have employed this method on their recordings 69-73; just turn Mick Taylor loose. What you get is a classic and a classic because he turns the songs around and pushes it into new directions. That's one of Taylor's strength - his ability to effortlessly improvise.

All Down the Line - Exile on Main Street (1972)

Rock and rolling Stones kicking it back in the South of France, noses in bags of narcotics, dodging tax and playing some of their best music ever! Exile on Main Street was a groove, a feel, the sound of  - to steal a phrase from Sir Paul - a Band on The Run. Mick Taylor adds some sharp, rocking slide guitar, taking the solo. To see how hard MT worked on this track - watch the video below.

Til the Next Goodbye - It's Only Rock n Roll (1974)

Another acoustic ballad, another slide solo. Beautiful song and for some reason completely overlooked. Why?

Honky Tonk Women - Let it Bleed (1969) / Brown Sugar - Sticky Fingers (1971)

Two songs from 1969 (Though Brown Sugar lay in the vaults over a year). Mick Taylor's introduction to the band. Honky Tonk Women - apparently MT made a small but telling contribution. He rocked up the song from the country ballad (Country Honk) to the rock classic we know now. Brown Sugar, is another group ensemble song where MT adds to mix but doesn't stand out. Recording on the sly in 1969 in Muscles Shoals, it was Mick Taylor's suggestion that they play this unreleased song at Altamont when all was falling on the Stones' heads/ Didn't make the film Gimme Shelter but the audio of this first ever version is the Stones against the wall, punching back.

Time Waits for No Man - It's Only Rock n Roll (1974)

The boss. The winner. The best track Mick Taylor and the Stones studio track. So beautiful. So wistful. And that solo at the end! A fucking artist at the top of his game in a band at throwing in a good performance. In the late 80's I wrote a shot song called 'It's Raining Again' and the only good thing about it was that I grafted a sausage fingered version of this MT's solo in the middle. The song is perfect in every way -Jagger's lyrics, Keef's spine tingling riff, Wyman, Watts, Nicky Hopkins and Ray Cooper all adding to the mix. And then Mick Taylor solos like a bastard for two / three full minutes of magic. he employs Latin influenced runs up and down the fretboard. Wow! This is what the Stones could have been. This is the Stones, timeless, standing out of time, looking at us and beckoning mere mortals forward. 

I'm done.

Read on / Rock on

A good article to read is my analysis of Mick Taylor’s solo on Sympathy for the Devil from Get Yer Ya Yas Out.

Or maybe delve into my full music section. You get Gene Clark, Taylor Swift live review, the 5 top roots of rock tunes and many, many more. Embrace that wormhole!

The Blog RSS The Rolling Stones performing "All Down The Line", live in Texas, June 1972. "All Down The Line" was featured on the 1972 double album, Exile On Main St, which reached number 1 in both the US and the UK album charts.

 

* Yeah - Waiting on A Friend was reused in the 80's.

 

The July Column, Bastille, April 2026

Don’t be a prisoner of the Metro!

I’ve told you previously about walking from Gare du Nord to Palais Garnier. All that Haussmann architecture with structured wide avenues oozing elegance of proportional symmetries, iron balconies and 45 degree sloping roofs.

Well let’s go another way (said every roué ever). Just flip the other walk 45 degrees and let’s plough on down the old Parisian alleyway we call Boulevard de Magenta into the comforting loins of Place de la Bastille.

Yes, I’m basically using a poor sex metaphor to describe a walk. Again. Those that do, do. Those that don’t just make terrible puns and pen walking guides around Paris. So, here we go again, fresh off the Eurostar, avoiding the Metro and walking down to Place de la Bastille.

Route Logistics

Start Point: Gare du Nord

End Point: Place de la Bastille via Place de la République

DIstance: 3.6km (2.2m) / about 50 min at a slow pace

Difficulty: Easy

Cafe/Bars: As many as your companion will let you.

How Awful Is the Area Around Gare du Nord?

Pretty awful. But as a tourist following this guide and heading south, it’s a damn sight better than the poor buggers who bought a cheap hotel room in the area above Gare du Nord (La Chapelle). Not the Paris of your dreams. Yes dear readers, I regret that bit of hotels.com cheap skating.

But, follow my instructions and let me guide you away from the disunited nations of the frenzied and the avaricious crowding your entry point and lead you into the boulevards you imagined when you first booked that weekend break away to Paris to recapture what was once there, or what you hope could be there.

Blvd de Denain to Boulevard Magenta

Set off, like we did last time, head straight out of Gare du Nord, cross the road in front of you, and go down the first avenue you see - Blvd de Denain. As you do so, observe the gardens - newly planted - in the middle of this pedestrianised street but then hurry, hurry away from the too observant locals; hide your wallet, pocket your phone, wrap your Mountain Warehouse jacket tighter around your bum bag . But only for ten seconds. The latter part of Denain is as peaceful as a Normandy seascape under impressionistic skies. Yeah.

Same café, same refuge. This time 50cl of 1664 blanc. Why not? La même chose, monsieur. So after your pitstop at La Chaufferie, follow these precise instructions:

Turn left. Walk straight on.

And that my friends, is basically your instructions to get to Bastille. A masterclass in understatement, no? Pure clickbait that turns just five words of direction into a thousand word solipsistic essay of poor jokes, average alliteration and parti pris prose.

Boulevard de Magenta

As you join this stretch of Magenta, marvel at the fresh urban character. Rejoice at the impromptu street-art spray painted onto historic buildings. But don’t stop too long to avoid being a phoneless Gallic Banksy yourself. Purposely canter through this first section past men watching from the darkened shadows of doorways, eying each tourist for value, for weakness.

“Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world”

And then, like a beautiful Parisienne Spring - and is there anywhere better than Paris in Spring? - Magenta opens out, chills out and becomes that which we seek, Le Paris Profond. Cafes and boutiques spread in front of you like a unabashed lover; flower shops, cafes, patisseries. Vous êtes ici, vous êtes à Paris!

Magenta bleeds into Place de la République which is a major square flanked by those famous Paris brasseries Les Five Guys and Le Bloody Burger King. They stand a greasy guard to Marianne’s haughty Monument de la République in the centre of the square. Let us not forget that the French had a revolution and, before they started getting all gilet jaune on each other’s ass, it was a turning point in history of which they should be justly proud. A century after England, of course, but, yeah, whatever.

Serious Haussmann

Diagonalise the square and head down Boulevard du Temple. We’re now getting into serious Haussmann territory as the traction beam of Bastille draws us ever onwards. Do look at the houses and shops as you pass. The sad fate of the unfamiliar urban tourist is to keep eyes ground level watching out for the pavement crazy dancing oddly, eyes dimly confounded by internal riddles, dancing his dance and doing that jogging trousers falling off the arse boogie.

Huh Tim?

What I mean is, look up and around. There are many fine buildings that stand unobserved unless they are observed. Features and oddities, historical quirks, hide in plain sight. And it’s here, on Temple, that we’re in serious Aristocat territory. Balzac, Condorcet, Zola. All of ‘em. All of ‘em. The spirit of Old Goriot lingers here. De Gaulle, Mitterand, Johnny fucking Hallyday. French as a ripe Camembert or a sexist car ad.

And then, surrounded by mad traffic and repeated zebra crossings (how long must I wait for the green man?) - but avoiding the high speed scooters and electric bikes - we have the Colonne de Juillet at the centre of Bastille. You know, the place where the French started off their revolution by freeing all the prisoners. Back in the day, here in England, we use to cart ours off to Australia. Now we just let them out as we’ve no money to keep them in. The revolution of the penny pinchers.

Little bit of politics. Moving on.

The Beauty of Le Paris Profond

Paris is in the detail, not the broad strokes. It’s the adverts for intriguing looking films you will never see rotated on the hexagon signposts. It’s the ornate signs and orb’d candelabras of the Metro stations. The iron work of the balconies, the regularity of the buildings, the ever changing, ever present sight-line of trees.

But it’s mainly in the cafes spilling out onto the streets as you observe a world - more sensed than perhaps real - of smart sophisticated people in scarfs drinking little coffees, smoking cigarettes, engaging in those ornate flatteries that choreograph the opening moves - cinq à sept - towards an affair. An affirmation of a life lived right. La vie réelle.

Walk to Bastille bitches!

Obligatory Crap Map

Badly drawn map of a walk from Gare du Nord to Bastille

Other Walks / Cities

What about Gare du Nord to Palais Garnier?

Or read more city reviews written from the comfort of bar stool (Antwerp, Bruges, Delft)

Some notes

1) Obviously the 1664 I had wasn’t the first, it wasn’t the last. I find càfe culture - and a constant refreshment of the glass -guides my pen. Like a higher power accessing truth. Here in Paris, there in Krakow, otherwise in Bruges or Antwerp.

2) Why am I in Paris? On business, mate, business. Doing deals you know.

3) The Cafe Flâneur Happy Hour photo. Too hard to resist. Am I a flâneur? Am I a world weary sophisicate leading you on? To where? To whom? Jean-Paul Sartre grasps at my shoulder but is shrugged off. Existential bitch. I travel but lightly.

4) And what the hell is Le Paris Profond? What’s that pretentiousness? Well, I made it up. It takes a foreigner to capture the essence of a place and it takes a jackdaw jobbing writer to steal, adapt and polish a phrase. Yes, Le Paris Profond will do. It fits. I am…I said.

Gare du Nord March 2026

Avoid the Metro & Take a Walk in Paris

So many of us arrive in Paris by Eurostar. Pitched into France, into the maelstrom of Gare du Nord. What to do? Where to go? Want to avoid the bustle of the Metro Station? The queues for the new Navigo card? Well, here’s a short walk that takes you safely and easily from the station right into the heart of Paris and the swanky Opera area. And, it’s pretty much one road - Rue La Fayette.

Route Logistics

Start Point: Gare du Nord

End Point: The Palais Garnier

DIstance: 2.5km (1.5m) / about 35 min at a slow pace

Difficulty: Easy

Cafe/Bars: Many

Gare du Nord - Orientation

Let’s face it. It’s a busy station in a capital city. Outside, a constant street theatre of hustlers, fake taxis and scammers await the unprepared tourist. I’ll guide you away from these and into Le Paris Profond; the Paris you see showcased in films that show the distinctive Baron Haussmann boulevards, buildings and smart cafes.

To start the walk; step off The Euro Star and you’re immediately facing in the right direction! Exit the front of the station and cross Pl. Napoléon III (the street directly in front of you). And then walk down Bd. de Denain. Over the last couple of years or so both Gare du Nord and this street have been undergoing major works to make them both more beautiful. Denain, long the habitué of English tourists looking for a café whilst they await their train home, is looking better these days. Amongst the cafés and bars that line this street, my favourite, right at the bottom left is Cafe Le Chaufferie. If you want a drink a light bite - with wifi - I always find this a good stop.

Rue La Fayette

Hero of two revolutions and the name of a one of the good Baron’s most iconic city thoroughfares. From the bottom of Denain, Rue La Fayette is more or less opposite you on the other side of Bd De Magenta. Once you are on Rue La Fayette, your navigation for this walk is basically over. Told you it was easy walk!

This road, with it’s straight line down to Palais Garnier is a riot of Haussmann cream coloured buildings complete with wrought iron clad balconies and iconic 45 degree sloping roofs. It’s also a place of many cafés which may tempt and beguile the weary tourist to stop off for a while. Why not? Paris is to walked and eaten and drunk. I always find the soul of a city in it’s non tourist spots, in the interplay of locals and cultures (see my bar reviews from Bruges, Antwerp, Krakow, for example).

Whether you choose to dally or just stroll, make sure you take time to take in the bustle and street life of a major French street. Avoid the electric bikes and scooters! If you want make sure you’re on the right track, you’ll pass the Metro Station Poissonnière. Here I want you to pause and feel slightly smug. To get even here by underground would have been to navigate a change at Gare d’Est. You don’t want to do that. Put in the steps and buy a pastry.

Haussmann’s wide boulevards always frame an iconic building and now, in the distance, the Palais Garnier should be in view. Your destination. Keep walking down La Fayette with the Palais as your guide and, in twenty of so minutes, you’ll be in the swanky Opéra district.

Bars in Opéra -de haut en bas

You got there! Much better to have walked, no? Seen Paris Profond. You’re now in striking distance of the Seine and The Louvre.

But, perhaps you’re thirsty and a little hungry and I’ve led you to the probably the most expensive part of Paris. Fear not! Tim has recommendations.

Expensive but Glamorous - Le Public House

We have history, Le Public House and I. My company hired this last year for a drinks reception for French clients. I made a speech in French. (Well, I meant make a speech in French but didn’t get much further than ‘Bonne soirée’ before lapsing into Franglais). Despite it’s name, it’s a very high end French brassiere. But you can get a pint of Guinness there. It’s very ornate but friendly. Great food and drink if you have the budget. A safe choice.

Tim’s Choice - The Frog Hop House

Basically an English pub style hostelry. The Frog Hop House is around the corner from Le Public House at 10 Rue des Capucines. When I was there I opted for their English style Winter Ale which, if you can see me drinking in the picture above!). It’s a friendly place with great bar staff and very much a ‘go up to the bar and order’ style. A great find and quite some bit cheaper - but less French - than Le Public House.

Obligatory Crap Map

An easy walk from Gare du Nord to Opéra

Further Reading / Comments

Done the walk - comment below

For a nostalgic view of Paris through the iconic Doisneau photo “Le Baiser de l'Hôtel de Ville” - click here.

For more city adventures click here.

Notes

1) What was my purpose in Paris on a bright Spring Day 2026? Don’t ask, don’t tell. My ways are mysterious and my life unknowable.

2) My images of Paris come from three sources: 1) The Aristocats 2) Memories of Paris in the 70’s and 80’s which I intermingle with my thoughts on 3) Doisneau’s Le Baiser de Hôtel de Ville.

3) I used to like the books of tickets you got to use on the Paris Metro. The new Navigo card is a step towards 2000’s London Underground’s Oyster card. Much easier is the current London system of accepting credit cards to pay. Much simpler.

TAYLOR SWIFT – HYDE PARK 27th June 2015

(Reposted from 2015) And it came to pass; Taytay hit the London BST festival in Hyde Park. I was there, the sun was there, my two pre-teen daughters were there and, er, 64,997 others.

Yes that white dot is Taylor. She couldn't see me very well, either.

Taylor Swift has re-invented herself in the last few years from curly haired country singer doing spots in the Hannah Montana movie, to a global, all conquering pop princess.

Now I have a confession; this isn’t the first time I’ve seen Ms. Swift perform. I went along to the O2 last Feb to see the tail end of her Red Tour. My house and car – if my daughters have anything to do with it, and they do - reverb to the sounds of Taylor 24/7. I’ve become a Swiftie by osmosis. Perhaps there’s an element of Stockholm syndrome…

We got to Hyde Park early, just as the gates opened. I’d bought premium view tickets, an exclusive enclosure in front of the sweating hordes pressed against the barriers. Got some laminates with a map and timings to hang around our necks. Pint of cider and two J2Os secured, we settled down to watch the support acts.

Support Acts

Newbie Rae Morris started things off, she was good though she did sometimes waver out of tune. I’m glad she played her hit Under The Shadows (though inexplicably not Cold) and so escaping the curse of the under card. Riptide bloke played Riptide. We were out in the park getting Rendang at the time and so missed all of it apart from the last chorus. I feel okay about that. John Newman, doing some nifty dance moves, was somewhat miffed the crowd wasn’t noisier for him. Well mate, write some better songs and have a few more hits and you’ll get the accolade you feel you deserve. Case in point; his one decent hit – Love me again – was well received. Rightly. Ellie Goulding, on the other hand, was simply great throughout. I thought she’d be all fey and fairy voiced but she belted out the hits and jumped around like an excited kid. A major artist in her own right, she knew her subsidiary place in this park of Swifties and so worked the crowd. We enjoyed her….

Taylor Appears!

By now it was nudging eight o’ clock, it was as busy as hell and, even in the Premium area, viewing the stage was difficult. No sitting down and casually watching anymore. And then there she was – in one scream of adolescent hi-octane rush, Taylor came out fifteen minutes early and went all Welcome to New York on our asses.

Now, if you want a review about the costume changes, the stage backdrops, the dancers, you’re in the wrong place, as I don’t especially give a toss. Sorry. I liked the catwalk, I liked it even better when it took off into the air and Taylor floated above us (camera ready kids!). Her ‘celeb’ friends – couldn’t name them, no idea who they are – came on during Style. Whatever. The scene that celebrates itself.

Taylor.

But to the music… Well, I was worried because at Radio 1’s Big Weekend in Norwich a month ago, Taylor seemed a little underpowered and her voice, never especially strong, was weaker than ever. Well, not last night and not in Hyde Park. She carried the show with her musical chops (some guitar, some piano, lots of dancing, plenty of face voguing to the camera). She was on fine form.

Taylor Talks..

No review of a Taylor Swift gig would be complete without mentioning Taylor’s ramblings. Yes, she likes to talk to her audience. A lot. She speaks with the certainty and earnestness of youth about friendship, boyfriends, female empowerment, Instagram, cats; that sort of thing. I thought she pushed this soliloquising about as far as it could go last night. If it weren’t so crowded that would have been my cue for a toilet break or beer run. Her legion of young fans seem to like it though. She speaks to them.

The set list was principally from her latest album 1989 with a few – a very few – vintage hits for us older folk who remember all the way back to 2012. I Knew You Were Trouble was slowed down for the first half before speeding up. It didn’t work for me; you don’t mess with class lightly. A much better reinvention was We Are Never Getting Back Together, which saw a leather clad Taylor grunge up her breakthrough hit. She powered out chunky chords like Pete Townsend in a bad mood. She didn’t windmill the guitar but she snarled through this teeny tale as though she was the Who roaring through My Generation. One for the dads. Love Story was the reworked version which me and the kids – being Swifties – have seen endless times on YouTube. But it was good to have her floating above us as she sang.

Taylor on the elevated walkway.

Of the newer stuff, Blank Space, Bad Blood, Out of the Woods, all rocked. Two hours in and an extended Shake It Off, officially now a classic, had 65,000 people, word perfect, chanting along to THIS…SICK… BEAT. Are you paying attention John Newman? You earn your applause. Taylor’s got the songs, the attitude and, despite being ridiculously young, has religiously worked herself up to this high plateau. As Taylor said, amongst many other things, she will remember this night for the rest of her life.

Thing is, will it be to remember the moment when she was on top of the mountain or, has she hills yet to climb?

I’m so profound sometimes it literally hurts. It really does.

RANDOM SNAPSHOTS

1)   Food. Street food, of course; lots of pulled this and wood fired that. I had a vegan rendang. The rendang stall woman being surprised my kids not only wanted, but loved, rendang. Used to it. Fav dish. I cook! I score!

2)   Great weather. A sun-cream day for the balding pate.

3)   The two for one provision of female:male toilets being buggered up by a whole block of female loos being out of action most of the day. Epic fail, organisers!

4)   The drunken girl honking up on the floor as 65,000 people passed her on the way out. Pull yourself together woman – this is a Taylor Swift gig FFS.

5)   The flashing wristbands we all wore. Given out free at the gate. We all glowed in synchronised unity during Taylor's set. 

6)   My knowledge of Belgravia helping the kids and me get to and from Hyde Park in record time. I am my own hero.

7)   The look on my youngest child’s face when she realised she was actually seeing Taylor Swift in the flesh. Yes, Taylor Swift! She really exists.

8)   My kids liked it when Taylor’s mum ran past us a couple of times. Ah, our so close brush with celebrity! (Did I tell you I once bumped into Madonna in Cipriani’s?)

9)   Two songs into Taylor’s set, re-affirming the old truth, retreat and see more! The back of our exclusive enclosure was sparsely populated. Much better views. Certainly much better than the crowds penned in behind us.

10) My kids posting their pictures on Instagram. The concert now ‘officially’ exists.

The Franco's Fiesta fans are held back by security and a well placed barrier.

Read More Music Reviews

Am I a communist?

Short answer, no. It was just a provocative title to gain clicks. (From one to two, from two to four. Pretty soon I’ll be an influencer and be forced to get an incomprehensible tattoo and end each sentence I speak with a raised inflection whilst taking cash bribes from ED sponsors).

So why pose the question at all? Am I communist? Well, since you didn’t ask, I will answer anyway.

For my job, I attend conferences on recycling, metal production, the circular economy; waste disposal. I listen to expert panels, government ministers and industry experts discuss decarbonisation, energy policy, green steel production, increasing government mandates on waste. Worthy stuff, I think you’ll agree.

My starting position - on these issues and, frankly all - is that government actions should be very narrowly drawn. Unintended consequences, misallocation of capital and interference with incentive structures, are usually the inevitable result of government action. That’s without addressing the potential - and real - erosion of liberty for the citizenry resulting in and a large tax bill. Government should necessarily be limited.

The Plastic Bag Tax

Older readers will remember that I was somewhat excised some years back about the plastic bag tax the government introduced (see unfinished and unpublished article below from 2019). The very noble thought behind this action was to reduce the number of plastic bags floating around car parks, recreation areas and into the sea. Doing nothing meant that consumers would continue with their planet-destroying behaviour as they faced no disincentive against demanding plastic bags each time they shopped. This, of course had been leading to the double trouble of consequence both in terms of ‘unnecessary’ production and the clean up afterwards when the bags got discarded, often not in a bin.

I have to say, before the bag tax, I always brought along my own sturdy bags when out shopping and got rewarded for it by my supermarket of choice who gave me loyalty points for each reused bag. It was an incentive structure that closely aligned with my own views. A happy coincidence. Unfortunately, not everyone was built to appreciate this voluntary incentive structure. And so the government mandated shops to charge for plastic bags (via various EU Directives allied with concomitant primary and secondary legislation).

The results - on the face of it - are pretty impressive; a drop of 98% usage of single use bags. (1)

Another example of Gov overreach I quibbled with at the time but am now tending towards equivication, was the banning smoking inside pubs and restuarants. Again, the results are - on surface - good. The atmosphere in pubs, restaurants (trains and planes anyone?) aren’t smokey anymore. Non smokers aren’t forced to sit in clouds of second hand smoke. But have you noticed the outside of pubs these days? The action - even in winter - is outside. (See my thoughts on B.O.H.O Bar in Krakow for the reverse).

And so to the present day - Scrapyards

I’ve been looking into the strategic imperative for the UK to move to lower polluting steel and aluminium production methods. The old blast furnaces were incredibly polluting as well as needing a constant supply of fresh materials dug from the earth (iron ore and coking coal). The adoption of electric arc furnace (EAF) techniques for steel production, for example, is 75-80% less polluting by using, the as the main component, recycled steel.

And this is where I wander in as bit player in this production. I deal with scrapyards through my work every day so I have some interest in the industry. The happy path goes something like this:

You take your old banger car to the scrapyard. They pay you for it. The yard scraps the car using advanced techniques which separates the various components leaving, amongst other metals, a fairly pure steel. This reclaimed steel goes to a domestic electric arc furnace steel manufacturer who then melts it down, maybe adds some pure iron ore (DRI) to improve the quality and - viola - you have ‘green steel’.

The Three R’s of Environmentalism

Recycled: The old car gets broken down into components and then the steels is cleaned and ready for recasting in an EAF.

Reuse: The steel can be reused an infinite amount of times given the right clean up process.

Reduce: The need for iron ore is much diminished. Coking coal, totally unnecessary.

Is Tim A Communist?

My own question is redundant. Of course not; where the free market works, where human behaviour in millions of decisions leads to a voluntary ascension to the good, then this is always and forever, the correct path. But. Human nature. Production without consequence. The failure to adopt new ‘cleaner’ technologies means sometimes, narrowly, sparingly, the state needs to step in.

How it hurts to write those words.

But. Fads. Fashion. Grift. The ‘new’ thing can pervert a tangibly good thing - a clean environment, a sustainable future - into the complete over-reach of net zero. In each view spoiled by wind farms, the dead birds sacrificed on their concrete altar beneath, for every beached whale, I despair and am very much a fighter against lazy opinions.

Confliction is the new certainty.

NOTES

1) Obviously, there are cross currents. Consumers shifting to plastic bags-for-life made from heavier plastic pollute more unless actually used several time. Even cotton bags need to be used 130 times in order to pollute less than thin single use bags.

Unpublished article from Aug 2019: Life is Like A Plastic Bag (Regulation):

As a libertarian environmentalist I frequently wrestle with a dilemma; how can a population do the right thing without the State forcing them to do so? Walking around the Lake District or a National Trust property, I’m excessively pissed off when I encounter litter. I mean, WTF? How the hell could people be so thoughtless in such a beautiful place? Probably littering is against National Park laws but should the state really have to police thoughtless behaviour in such remote spots? How would this even be enforced? Surely, the balance of responsibility should tilt towards the individual in this type of case?

But what if people choose not to be civic minded? What if they don’t know, don’t care, don’t give a shit? Aren’t they exercising their own sense of individuality? This gets right to the heart of liberty - compulsion for the greater good.

It’s why I keep returning to the issue of usage of plastic bags - its a comparatively small issue though instructive. It’s also an issue where a solution is literally in the hands of you and me; use less disposable bags! Less bags equals less production of useless things, less environmental destruction, less litter.

The answer, bring your own bags to the shop, is easy to understand and small scale - we can all take part in this solution ourselves.

The issue though is one of compulsion - should the state interfere? If the motivation of the state doing so is benigh and the consequentces of doing so ‘a good thing’?

Ah, here is where we run into that old curmudgeon - liberty.

March 26 Postscript

The young Tim was a worthy, questioning soul, was he not? I almost admire him. Are plastic bags a metaphor for something else? Something wider, something smaller? Meta analysis man, we are what we say, what we write - even subconsciously.

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