DzM wrote:philipchevron wrote:At this distance, it looks like it was made in the stone age, so rapid has been the growth in technology and communications, which is why it's all the more remarkable it happened at all. Also at this distance, it grows in significance. As Billy Connolly puts it, never again would people feel so helpless, so unempowered to affect matters of such enormous importance.
I dunno. I've often wrestled with the legacy of the
*Aid (
BandAid, SelfAid, FarmAid, etc) projects. They've always seemed really self-indulgent for the public. To me they seemed to allow wealthy populations to smugly feel like they were doing some
significant by throwing a big party for the weekend, and that that's all that was necessary to fix famine, or address massive unemployment, or shifting economic patterns. In a small way I feel like they contributed to the complacency of the population in times of distress and have led to a mentality that we CAN have it all - we don't have to make sacrifices.
Could just be early in the morning and my Guarana spiked morning beverage isn't working yet.
Yes. Aid-fatigue came rapidly, and there's a great deal of truth in what you say. Nevertheless, I exempt Geldof's original
Band Aid/Live Aid not just because it was the first, but because he was perhaps the only human being on the planet with the skill sets to get her done. Aid-cretinism set in early too, as early as the US section of
Live Aid in which even Bob Dylan muttered something about helping those American farmers closer to home who also were dying in their millions. But also, Billy Connolly's point stands, I think. Though it is at least arguable that humanity has never since acted with anything like the altruism and force it realised might be within its grasp after
Live Aid or that new forces have mobilised to set us back to our default complacency, the genie has left the bottle all the same.
At the risk of venturing dangerously into the thorny area of cultural differences, it has to be said, and the
Live Aid documentary does not entirely shirk it, that the US part of the operation came close to becoming farcical on several occasions, and was damn near sabotaged by the paranoia and vanity of promoter Bill Graham. Creatively too, it's hard to imagine that had Geldof been able to clone himself, the Philadelphia mishaps, like the Phil Collins/Led Zep collision (apparently so toe-curlingly terrible that the Zeps took strenuous steps to prevent its ever being seen again) would ever have occurred either. There's also the metrics which illustrate that Americans believe, with quite staggering erroneousness, that they are the world's most generous per capita charity givers. The scene in
When Harvey Met Bob, the fictionalized account of the day, in which Geldof, arriving at Wembley in his assistant Marsha Hunt's car, winds down a window to accept, from a nun, a plastic bag stuffed with banknotes - she knew Bob could be trusted to put them in the right hands - is based on one of many many such incidents which occurred without cynicism at the time.
There were many things I felt were wrong about the whole business at the time, and it is a great shame, in some ways, that those concerns have been allowed to disappear from the history. At the time, many of us felt that by ignoring the popular music of entire continents especially, in this instance, the African continent itself, the cultural validity of the entire project was questionable. And those, and other questions remain. And Geldof, in his favour, has never denied the questions existed, but he did what he felt he had to do, which was trample down all these secondary questions and concentrate singlemindedly on the only one that mattered that day, which was How To Save Lives? But, 25 years on, and with all the caveats still throbbing somewhat, I have to say I was basically wrong. Though myself and the other Pogues were engaged that day in support of the UK mineworkers in their fight against Thatcher, at a benefit concert in Brixton, my over-riding personal memory of that day remains the arrival of Elvis Costello at our soundcheck, fresh from his stint at Wembley, his wrists, hands and cuffs all covered with cribs of the impossible-to-memorise list-song lyrics of the song he had just performed in front of two billion people.
The song was, of course, "All You Need Is Love", and Costello's endearingly hammish solution to a tricky technical question somehow seemed to embody the spirit of the day. The Beloved Entertainer himself may have felt that way too, for I saw him make no attempt that evening to obliterate the evidence.