Irrational

Every morning for the last several, I’ve woken up wondering whether the morning news bulletin will announce that war has broken out.

It’s not a normal thought, is it?

It’s extremely irrational, I know.

My daily feeble attempts at actually being awake again are often soundtracked by a radio broadcast, containing regular short news updates. Often these are just the headlines of the day: some politician said something, some business failed to do something, some figures have fallen or risen and reasons for why this might be good or bad. And to a greater or lesser extent, these headlines largely remain the same anyway. They also help me to keep track of how late I’m making myself in half-hour increments.

The ever-looming possibility of all-out nuclear destruction being imminent manages to keep playing on my mind though. Call me crazy, but the rising level of threats being exchanged between some irrational lunatic who, somehow, managed to inherit rule of a country and some irrational lunatic who, somehow, was chosen to rule a country don’t instil a great deal of confidence in me. If anything, I’m going back to existential ponderings about why we’re even here and whether anyone even cares.

I’m not falling into the slump of depression again – at least I don’t think I am. But I remember the experience well, and a lot of it hinged on, essentially, irrational thought. It’s not healthy or in any way sane to have thoughts about things that probably don’t matter. And yet us intelligent, idiotic excuses for human beings have irrationality set up as a key part of our default operating package.

I suppose it keeps us alert. Even the hunter/gatherers needed some warning system in place for the possibility of getting mauled by a pack of rabid wolves. But as our society has evolved, we’ve managed to put divert the attention of our pre-emotive fear towards spiders, misbehaving technology, feelings of perpetual isolation and people with differing degrees of skin tone.

In the grand scheme of things, none of that should really bother us. And it does. Because we’re idiots, wired that way and often doubtful of ourselves and the world around us to remotely trust anything. So tomorrow morning, as with every morning as of late, I expect to awaken filled with dread at the news bulletin jingle, only to find myself relieved that the following announcement doesn’t contain the words: “end of days”.

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The thing with Kate Tempest is that, despite possessing a voice that could rival Eastenders’ latest murderer with a mouth full of gobstoppers, she uses that voice in one of the cleverest ways imaginable. Social and political commentary isn’t exactly new and groundbreaking, but there’s a difference between crafting an articulate, lyrical polemic and shouting about how angry you are the buses are running late again.

Shifting the focus away from the music and more towards the performance poetry, this is one of the most striking, most engaging and frankly most relevant things I’ve heard lately that sums up the current state of play. The maudlin, downbeat droning of the underlying music really just helps to amplify what’s being said. Sorry if you wanted some uber-quirky techno beats – you’re stuck with something a bit more intellectual this time.

Kate Tempest – Tunnel Vision