Today I have been listening to outlandish pop from the era when people believed culture could stir up the world and incite the change they wanted to see. They were wrong, perhaps catastrophically, but the belief did create better music than the many bands today who believe only that they have a right to be successful. It has also been a weirdly satisfying soundtrack to the work I have been doing over the last two days, trying to help expand co-operative housing in Londres.
The music of the 70s is a satisfying soundtrack to these acts of belief in the future precisely because it is so inappropriate. The rebellion sub-cultures of the second half of the 20th Century had no interest in economic structures. They rarely proposed alternative worlds, or only as hypothetical utopias. The hard work of believing in the future and building new worlds was not for them. That is one of the reasons we are facing the end of the world now. So it struck me as deliciously ironic to listen to this music while meeting with the money men, as I did today, and while plotting project management, as I did yesterday.
Londres is the toughest place in the country to do this kind of work, but Londres is where I want to be. I am not ready to give up on it. Today I ran down to the Tamesis and looked at its grey-brown and gloomy waters. There is rarely anything beautiful about the river, but it is our river. It runs over Roman bones and clay pipes and slave chains , haunting the city as our pasts haunt us. As individuals must face their pasts, so too must Londres if it is to live again.