Monday, 21 October 2024

P for Paladin

   

















Paladin - second only to Picador as a publisher's name to set the arty-intellectual bibliophile's heart a flutter...   

Radical, countercultural, polemical, esoteric, transgressive, avant-garde, youth culture ... a feast for the hungry young mind, portions selling at a reasonable paperback price. Eye-catching design.

I have six of the above Paladins - and in the the same covers as shown.

These are they































































Dig the inclusion of negative quotes about Playpower on the back cover - "the book they're all talking about!"

Not all of the above were bought at the time, though. 

Back in the day, Picador and Paladin titles were usually displayed in spinners.  

You know what I mean, those rotating wire-metal things with basket compartments that hold about 4 to 6 paperbacks.

One of those commonplace things that were totally part of the bookworm's life, but no one seems to have seen fit to take a picture of one.  At least one crammed with Paladins and / or Picadors. 

They still use spinners in Oxfam but they tend to be crammed with vintage Penguin + Pelican non-fiction. 

Well, after searching online for a goodly while, I did find an example and it seems to be contemporary too: from a Chorlton charity shop - a Paladin spinner, a Picador spinner and a Virago spinner, all in a row. Not the wire basket type though. 


The Paladin and Picador designs aren't nearly as characterful and grabby as back in the day though.  Nor do the books themselves seem be as cool or esoteric. 

(On second thoughts - maybe they just repurposed the spinners and have crammed them with books by sundry nonaligned publishers?)

Now this was the sort of typical Picador paperback that greeted the eye back in the day



This below is probably the more "iconic" Gravity's Rainbow cover though




Owned that edition for years and years ... never read it! Eventually the pages got so dingy yellow-brown I had to chuck it out.

Did finish this slimmer effort though  (following the same principle of reading Notes from Underground but getting only so far into Brothers Karamazov)





I owned and read a Koestler but not this one.... 


Was it this one? I don't remember the cover. 





Or perhaps a primer selection of his works? 
(I remember his theory about laughter - which was convincing. He had a good point about how it's impossible to tickle yourself. And also that being tickled only works with someone you know - if a stranger came up and tried to tickle you, it would not be funny, you'd be alarmed. Tickling works as an oscillation between fear and trust). 


Picador must have done about half-a-dozen of Koestler's... a completely forgotten figure now (although "ghost in the machine" lives on as a sourceless cliche)... Unsavory chap, in his personal life (Wiki-Fear alert)


Had all the Ian McEwan's up to and including Comfort of Strangers 





Read the story collections and Cement several times each....   jejune and creepy in their shock-tactics, maybe, but much more compelling than the mature McEwan (with the exception of On Chesil Beach, which is almost a throwback to the early taboo-tweaking mode in its subject matter but has a more pained adult take on it.... ) . I read them all quite recently again, the short stories and the novella, for the first time in decades, and they still stand up.


Now Brautigan never appealed, nor even really intrigued....  the whimsied titles warned me off. As did his mustache.







Had this Burroughs primer and also Cities of the Red Night... now he's an author that doesn't do much for me



Now I'm wondering if Picador did any non-fiction in those days.... everything I can recall having on the imprint (some DeLillo, a Vollmann.... what else?) was a novel or short story collection. 


Ooh, the amount of hours in my life I spent rotating those Picador and Paladin spinners.... ogling the  offerings, the opportunities for mind expansion. 

Now what is it with UK publishers and the letter P? 


Panther

Pan

Picador

Paladin


Penguin

Puffin

Pelican

Peregrine



Pluto

Palgrave

Polity


Persephone

Pimlico



Saturday, 27 April 2024

Daily Doodle

A sketchbook page.

Discline





























































An advert in Sounds, April 1983

"Outside London, 24 hours a day, except during the season's major cricket matches, when it's available at the end of play"

Even without the summertime disruption caused by cricket, this doesn't seem the most compelling of offers to the pop-loving public: "all your favorite singles" but that translates to "four different songs" during the week, going up to five at the weekend. 

How much did they charge per minute? 

Easy to picture parents up and down the land with steam coming out of their ears when they opened the  phone bill.  

I could find very little information about Discline online.

But in the 1960s a service called Dial-A-Disc was offered by what was then known as the GPO - General Post Office . 









Same issue with the cricket competing for limited phoneline bandwidth!

Excerpts from a Retroscoop post about Dial-A-Disc:

"Dial-a-Disc was trialed first in Leeds, springing to life at 6 pm on the 7th July 1966. It ran for just under a month, before being hailed as an outstanding success! The service was started again on the 8th December 1966, again only in the Leeds area, but it was rolled out to the rest of the country gradually over a four year period.  On-demand music streaming had arrived. But Hi-Fidelity it wasn’t.

"Transmitted in Mono, with the bandwidth heavily squeezed, the music was accompanied by the obligatory background crackle and static hiss generated by sending the audio down miles of copper cable. But despite its shortcomings in musical quality, it was a truly magical experience – and one that had an indefinable charm about it....

"The service ran during the ‘cheap rate’ hours from 6 pm in the evening to 6 am the following morning every weekday, and all day on Sundays.  Initially only the top 7 records in the charts were played on the service, with a new record being played every day. This was soon increased to the top 8, with two records being played on Sundays. Eventually, the service expanded in its latter years to include the whole of the top 20.... 

"People who used Dial-a-Disc have fond memories of the quirkiness of the service.  Some individuals recall that on some occasions they could sometimes hear other people talking on the line during the gaps between the end and start of the records. This appears to have been more of a problem when listening to Dial-a-Disc via public phone boxes. In some inner-city booths, youths would dial into the service specifically to chat to other local users during the quiet spots. One woman from Birmingham claimed to have met her future husband in this way!"

Like fiddling the lecky or your gas meter, crafty kids found a bunch of different ways of getting to hear the pop tunes for free. 

However this one doesn't sound very satisfying: 

"Listening to the record in installments.  The GPO allowed users to listen to the first 10 seconds of the recording for free before you had to insert money into the coin box. Users would ring the service multiple times until they had managed to listen to the whole disc. Tedious, but achievable."

But wouldn't it just replay the first 10 seconds of any given song again and again? 

Another juicy, yet also somewhat puzzling and unconvincing snippet:

"There was another problem caused by the service that particularly affected small towns and villages that only had one public phone box. Clusters of youths began to hold what the press began to term ‘telephone-a-gogos’, where dozens of teens pooled their pocket money and hogged call boxes for hours on end listening and dancing to the same record over and over."

Hmmm... look,  I know people in the sticks were culturally deprived - I can remember what it was like living in a smallish town in the semi-country in the 1970s  - but really, would kids cluster around a public telephone to hear pop music? What is the broadcast strength and range of a phone receiver not held to the ear but aloft for a group of people to hear?  Fairly feeble, I'd say - and then the level of fidelity would be barely existent. And talking about capacity - "dozens of teens" were squeezing themselves into a phone box, were they? 

For a moment there I started to wonder if this blogpost was made-up.

The second half of this also strained credulity:

"My ‘love affair’ with Dial-a-Disc occurred during the summer of 1979, where I would often dial in to hear the latest sounds. However, the first quarterly bill brought my happy ‘affair’ to an abrupt end.  I did attempt to call from a Phone box on one occasion, but a bunch of local yobs ran round the box with a roll of masking tape and sealed me in. Luckily, a passer-by spotted me and managed to get me out."

Yeah, pull the other one, pal.

Ditto for your story about the mate who, heading home drunk from a party, got in a phone booth and dialed up "I Will Survive", then fell asleep. Only to wake in the morning and find a long, irritated queue of people in the morning waiting to use the phone,  but too typically English and polite to disturb the occupant. 

Ah, so -  as the reference "the summer of 1979" indicates -  Discline would appear to have just been a rebranding of Dial-A-Disc, which had carried on through the 1970s  and under its new name would make it the other end of  the '80s,  finally winding up in around 1991.