Sunday 18th September

I was ready for bed, 10 here in France but I was watching UK TV and it was 9 there.  Just about to switch off the telly when they announced that on BBC4 the Mercury Prize was being announced.  I decided to sleepily watch it.

Now in the last 25 years the Mercury prize has never failed to amaze; many great albums ignored and many winners never heard of again.  Like the Turner prize in Art the panel seem to go out of their way to defy logic and common sense and choose Artists (in both mediums) that almost defy the description itself.

Anyway – to the show, and the real reason I had decided to watch.  I knew that Bowie’s Blackstar was on the shortlist of 12 albums and stupidly hoped he might win posthumously.  The shortlist of 12 was soon whittled down to 6.  Bowie was still there. Each of the Artists presented live at Hammersmith Apollo (where I have seen Dylan, Bowie, McCartney and many many others in years gone by).  First up was Laura Mvula, a beautiful black woman and a great performance – she would have made a worthy winner.  Another black singer Michael Kiwamuka was also brilliant – a modern soul sound with a blistering guitar solo – he too would have made a worthy winner.  Radiohead presented a film of Johnny Greenwood and Thom Yorke with a lovely acoustic song from their latest album, and even though I am not a Radiohead fan they would have been worthy winners.  A ‘peoples choice’ The 1975, although not my cup of tea, put on a good performance and would have been acceptable winners.  Bowie was represented by a singer I hadn’t heard of, Micheal Hall I think, singing Lazarus.  As soon as I heard those gorgeous chords and poignant words I was transported.  Of course Bowie had to win.  But I had forgotten because he was so awful the Artist known as Skepta.  It was what is known as Grime, but to my uneducated ears it was the usual rapping shouty posturing angry hip-hop which I have never understood and though I have tried can find nothing to like in it whatsoever.  He leapt around the stage shouting ‘Shutdown’ and the other ‘lyrics’ were almost indecipherable – the studio audience though loved it.  You guessed; he won.

Oh well, there is always next year.