Aquamare, Paphos

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being a man of wealth and taste, did stay at the Aquamare Hotel, in Paphos, Cyprus, in July 2014. This is a modern hotel rather than a resort (having no entertainment), the (standard) rooms are a little small but very clean and provided with TV with international channels, safe, hairdryer, kettle and from time to time tea and coffee. Our room looked at the sea, though was quite low and not much could be seen of the sea from the balcony. The next site along the beach is a building site, though no building seemed to have taken place for a long time and it was completely silent. The rooms on the landward side would have been rather noisy with the windows open due to the main road along the back. The hotel is on the beach, which is rocky with some sand, and the loungers in the sitting areas were markedly less closely packed together than in the nearby, more resort-oriented hotels. There were a dozen pleasant restaurants in strip malls within about a kilometer along the main road, mostly costing about €50 for two.  Breakfast was sufficient and could be had on the patio near the pool, but without any variety. Guests were mainly strangely polite Russians, and English. It is about a 2 mile walk to Paphos or there is a bus very 15 mins or so. The gym was well-equipped, and there was working free wifi in the lobby. Beer and burgers in the pool bar were a little expensive, but cheapest beer was €2 a pint at the Crocodile and Pegasus pubs down the road, though without a sea view. Paphos itself seemed to have seen livelier days, with many units and lots being vacant. Well, this was a very pleasant place for a week in the sun by the sea, though perhaps slightly dull for nightlife, or a sense of place.

The Song of Achilles

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read "The Song of Achilles" by Madeline Miller (2011), mainly on the Northern Line, in 2014. It is the story of Achilles as told by his friend Patroclus. It begins a little unpromisingly, and I was reminded of innumerable Victorian school stories about the boys admiring the Captain of the First XI, but with talking horses and sea gods thrown in. The writing is simple, melodic and pleasing, though suffering from a naturally limited range of allusions and expressions. Thus I was aware of a certain lack of depth. However, as the story develops it became more convincing, and I was keen to see what would happen at the end, though finally I suppose it was no great secret.

Petals of Blood

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read Ngugi wa Thiongo's's book "Petals of Blood" (1977), by the beach in Cyprus in July 2014. It is the story of how an inland village in Kenya becomes part of the international market economy by way of colonialism, through the experiences of the more educated locals. Although both the oppressed and the oppressors are Africans,  parts are strangely reminiscent of the "Grapes of Wrath", and infused with a dreamy, Latin American sensibility. This makes it overlong and repetitive, though much of the writing is quite fine. I did not find the evangelical conversions at the end credible, though to be fair Melachi notes that effective responses to the capitalist system are so far difficult to find.

Download 2014

Smashing

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Download festival, at Donington Park, June 2014. Lacking obvious headliners and with an endlessly uninspiring line-up of unpromising hard-rock acts, the car parks were not too full though the weather not too bad. Skid Row I thought seemed tired, Twisted Sister not at all tired, charismatic but lacking enough tunes, Pretty Reckless were indeed pretty but not musically terribly reckless. Steel Panther had a big billing but didn't add much to their previous appearance, and will doubtless do the same until sharia. Strangely even some women were wearing their T-shirts, though generally the uglier ones. Status Quo showed biting but pointless groove, and Aerosmith were doubtless jolly good but I only caught a ballad after which I left for home, due to the shortness of life.

Not the hunted

More armour

Huntress was I think the only true soprano and Sharon of Within Temptation could gain some of that aggression and lose a few pounds. Trivium's stage formula was routine and they did not seem quite sure where they were. Anathema looked confused, perhaps with sound problems, but got a few tracks together. On the plus side, there was some smashing full-contact medieval fighting, and I was impressed by Collibus, and will have to look into them some more. A surprise stand-out was Sabaton, the only representative of German bierkeller metal, who had great fun with unprepossessing tunes. Best band I had not heard before was Suicide Silence, with an extraordinarily powerful attack in the main tent providing a focus difficult for the daylight shows on the bigger stages to match, and bringing on at least one serious injury, though, so far as I could tell, no actual suicides. 

Pensive Swedish Master

Opeth began the recovery from the despond of their previous tour, though struggling with the sound coming from the main stage. Oh, what sad times are these when One Direction can drown out even the Swedish Masters. Yet, there is nothing quite like their palpability, having ascended to a breakdown in the flesh, which is never matched on their recordings, though here the lead guitar could have been clearer. 

I shot the devil

The only band with what I would describe as a show and my favourite of the weekend were Behemoth, sounding like Opeth without the quieter bits, transitions, and funny tempo changes. These Polish Blackened Death Metal Titans were so achingly cool I was frightened to take a photo of them. So, I took one of someone else taking a photo of them, and it shall not be Melachi who is damned!