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Watching Bob Dylan on stage made me yearn for the gigs of my youth

Somewhere along the line, I’d lost the punky irreverence that made me delight in iconoclasm for its own sake.

A couple of weeks ago I failed in my journalistic duty. I went to see Bob Dylan at the Palladium, intending to review it, but I found to my dismay that I simply couldn’t.

I had assumed I would enjoy it, you see; that even if I didn’t love every musical moment, at the very least it would be something to be in the same room as a legend.

What I didn’t bargain for was that I’d hate every musical moment, not even make it to the end of the evening, and would then get home and sit glumly in front of the blank screen of my laptop, until the wordless hours forced upon me the realisation that, somewhere along the line, I’d lost the punky irreverence that used to make me delight in iconoclasm for its own sake, and I’d become respectful.

It wasn’t just that I knew, and wearily accepted, that a negative review would provoke angry responses, along the lines of, “Who do you think you are, puny songstress Tracey Thorn, slagging off our trailblazing genius Bob Dylan?”

It was that, at some level, a part of me would have agreed with them. I’m under no illusions about our respective status in the story of popular music: Dylan has a starring role, is a game-changer – a Nobel Prizewinner, for heaven’s sake. I had come to praise him, and I wasn’t sure the world needed me to bury him.

All I can tell you, briefly, is this. He doesn’t play guitar, spending the show either at the piano or standing at the mike. The hits are few and far between, and when he does a song we all know and love, “Tangled Up In Blue”, the crowd almost bursts into tears of relief – yet he sings it like a man who knows neither the words nor the tune, the sound mix reducing his vocal performance to a kind of endless two-note drone: na-NA-na-NA-na-NA-na-NA.

This from a man beloved and revered for his lyrics. If you’re nodding in understanding now, let’s leave it at that, and if you’re outraged and of the opposite opinion, again, let’s leave it at that.

After the show, someone tells me he has terrible arthritis and that’s why he can’t play guitar any longer. And I think of that wide-legged stance he adopts, both at the piano and standing to sing, and I wonder if he needs a hip replacement, and I feel nothing but sympathy. So perhaps I’m not cut out to be a critic, if I only like writing about things I like.

It set me thinking, though: what do I want from a gig? What are the nights that are seared on to my memory, and why?

There was Prince in his pomp on the Lovesexy tour, when even a long show at Wembley couldn’t contain all that he was, forcing him to carry on into the night at an after-party, unstoppable, untouchable.

Or the Smiths, young and triumphant at the Hacienda in 1983, where we wore secretive little badges printed with the word “Handsome”, and Morrissey hurled gladioli out to the audience, where they were caught and brandished, then dropped and trampled into a pulpy mess on the floor. Or the Kate Bush comeback gigs at the Apollo, which left me dizzy and weeping, more dishevelled than if I’d been on stage.

But nothing can match those vivid gigs of my teenage years, where the night out mattered more than who was on stage, where what I wore mattered more than what they sang. At Ian Dury and the Blockheads in 1978 at Hemel Hempstead Pavilion, the atmosphere was more party than concert: balloons and streamers filled the air, and I was in a blazer covered in badges, dancing in front of the stage with a menthol cigarette in one hand and a plastic glass in the other, and I got off with a plasterer called Mick.

It was sex and drugs and rock’n’roll, indeed. Or snogging and smoking and dancing. No wonder I count it as one of the best gigs of my life – but was that down to the band, or the being in a room full of hormones and possibility, on the brink of discovering who I was, buzzing with nicotine and electricity? Past a certain age, can any gig hope to conjure up that type of feeling? Even Dylan? 

Tracey Thorn is a musician and writer, best known as one half of Everything but the Girl. She writes the fortnightly “Off the Record” column for the New Statesman. Her latest book is Naked at the Albert Hall.

This article first appeared in the 22 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The zombie PM

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Harmful gender stereotypes in ads have real impact – so we're challenging them

The ASA must make sure future generations don't recoil at our commercials.

July’s been quite the month for gender in the news. From Jodie Whittaker’s casting in Doctor Who, to trains “so simple even women can drive them”, to how much the Beeb pays its female talent, gender issues have dominated. 

You might think it was an appropriate time for the Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) to launch our own contribution to the debate, Depictions, Perceptions and Harm: a report on gender stereotypes in advertising, the result of more than a year’s careful scrutiny of the evidence base.

Our report makes the case that, while most ads (and the businesses behind them) are getting it right when it comes to avoiding damaging gender stereotypes, the evidence suggests that some could do with reigning it in a little. Specifically, it argues that some ads can contribute to real world harms in the way they portray gender roles and characteristics.

We’re not talking here about ads that show a woman doing the cleaning or a man the DIY. It would be most odd if advertisers couldn’t depict a woman doing the family shop or a man mowing the lawn. Ads cannot be divorced from reality.

What we’re talking about is ads that go significantly further by, for example, suggesting through their content and context that it’s a mum’s sole duty to tidy up after her family, who’ve just trashed the house. Or that an activity or career is inappropriate for a girl because it’s the preserve of men. Or that boys are not “proper” boys if they’re not strong and stoical. Or that men are hopeless at simple parental or household tasks because they’re, well...men.

Advertising is only a small contributor to gender stereotyping, but a contributor it is. And there’s ever greater recognition of the harms that can result from gender stereotyping. Put simply, gender stereotypes can lead us to have a narrower sense of ourselves – how we can behave, who we can be, the opportunities we can take, the decisions we can make. And they can lead other people to have a narrower sense of us too. 

That can affect individuals, whatever their gender. It can affect the economy: we have a shortage of engineers in this country, in part, says the UK’s National Academy of Engineering, because many women don’t see it as a career for them. And it can affect our society as a whole.

Many businesses get this already. A few weeks ago, UN Women and Unilever announced the global launch of Unstereotype Alliance, with some of the world’s biggest companies, including Proctor & Gamble, Mars, Diageo, Facebook and Google signing up. Advertising agencies like JWT and UM have very recently published their own research, further shining the spotlight on gender stereotyping in advertising. 

At the ASA, we see our UK work as a complement to an increasingly global response to the issue. And we’re doing it with broad support from the UK advertising industry: the Committees of Advertising Practice (CAP) – the industry bodies which author the UK Advertising Codes that we administer – have been very closely involved in our work and will now flesh out the standards we need to help advertisers stay on the right side of the line.

Needless to say, our report has attracted a fair amount of comment. And commentators have made some interesting and important arguments. Take my “ads cannot be divorced from reality” point above. Clearly we – the UK advertising regulator - must take into account the way things are, but what should we do if, for example, an ad is reflecting a part of society as it is now, but that part is not fair and equal? 

The ad might simply be mirroring the way things are, but at a time when many people in our society, including through public policy and equality laws, are trying to mould it into something different. If we reign in the more extreme examples, are we being social engineers? Or are we simply taking a small step in redressing the imbalance in a society where the drip, drip, drip of gender stereotyping over many years has, itself, been social engineering. And social engineering which, ironically, has left us with too few engineers.

Read more: Why new rules on gender stereotyping in ads benefit men, too

The report gave news outlets a chance to run plenty of well-known ads from yesteryear. Fairy Liquid, Shake 'n' Vac and some real “even a woman can open it”-type horrors from decades ago. For some, that was an opportunity to make the point that ads really were sexist back then, but everything’s fine on the gender stereotyping front today. That argument shows a real lack of imagination. 

History has not stopped. If we’re looking back at ads of 50 years ago and marvelling at how we thought they were OK back then, despite knowing they were products of their time, won’t our children and grandchildren be doing exactly the same thing in 50 years’ time? What “norms” now will seem antiquated and unpleasant in the future? We think the evidence points to some portrayals of gender roles and characteristics being precisely such norms, excused by some today on the basis that that’s just the way it is.

Our report signals that change is coming. CAP will now work on the standards so we can pin down the rules and official guidance. We don’t want to catch advertisers out, so we and CAP will work hard to provide as much advice and training as we can, so they can get their ads right in the first place. And from next year, we at the ASA will make sure those standards are followed, taking care that our regulation is balanced and wholly respectful of the public’s desire to continue to see creative ads that are relevant, entertaining and informative. 

You won’t see a sea-change in the ads that appear, but we hope to smooth some of the rougher edges. This is a small but important step in making sure modern society is better represented in ads.

Guy Parker is CEO of the ASA