Someone change the classical record please!

The government's approach to teaching culture in schools doesn't work.

The government's latest drive to find a solution for teaching culture in schools has missed a big opportunity. It's nothing against Classic FM boss Darren Henley. He had a remit. It's just that ultimately we all know the record and unfortunately adding another layer into the English Baccalaureate doesn't seem like an ideal result for kids or teachers.

The problem is that while we all know teaching cultural subjects for longer in schools should in theory produce more balanced, cultural and artistic young adults, the reality is somewhat different. Teachers we know struggle with making strict curriculum subjects relevant and it feels as though Henley's report will do nothing more than trigger self-professed maths lover Michael Gove into some sort of halfway house, knee-jerk reaction.

I'm not against teaching drama and dance in schools. I do fear, though, that any formal, Department of Education-driven changes may focus too much on the "higher arts" and alienate kids from culture still further. I am also not suggesting that we teach them just street dance, pop songs and Banksy. The balance will no doubt be set but it is the same old methods, formulaic approach and academic expectancy that concern me.

Teaching culture in schools is not about throwing in extra lessons and giving out certificates. Take music. The trouble with teaching music in schools is that it is difficult to define its benefits beyond the obvious value of learning to play an instrument. Yet music at all levels can boost confidence in kids (and adults) and this in turn can open new doors and breed new opportunities. You only have to watch Gareth Malone in The Choir to see it in action.

There should be more music in schools across other subjects and not necessarily as a stand-alone class. Music, dance, drama and art have the ability to feed into many subjects. They are engaging mediums that can bring alive other topics and while I know some teachers try and do this, many are under pressure, working within the constraints of league tables and the three Rs. It is the culture that is the problem and the unwavering insistence on a strict curriculum that no longer has much relevance with the real world we live in.

Is this a bit of government box-ticking perhaps? Is the government jumping on bandwagons and paying lip service to culture in an attempt to keep the critics happy? Either way I cannot see how this will change anything. Gove says he doesn't want it to end up being elitist but it is difficult to see it will be anything but. The good kids with most parental support will get better and the rest will be disenfranchised, again. What it calls for is radicalism, a re-writing of the system and recognition of relevant subjects and reference points while maintaining educational values. Times have changed. Kids are playing downloads but it feels like the government is still stuck on vinyl.

Martyn Ware, former Heaven 17 and Human League musician and founder of the Illustrious Company, will be speaking at X Media Lab Bath on 16 March.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times