No More Smoke And Mirrors

          Extinction Rebellion’s attention-grabbing tactics are having their intended effect: on me, at least. I find myself thinking twice about the carbon implications of almost everything that I do – even going to a gig, though the last one I went to (jazz band, Ruby Rushton) surely had a minimal environmental impact. The venue is a low-rent cellar just a few minutes’ walk away and, although it has been fitted out to basic health and safety standards, no resources have been squandered on prettification: it remains as scuzzy as it was on the day it was abandoned after a hundred years and more of industrial usage.

          Apart from H & S certification and the presence of the Council-mandated bouncers, the place reminded me of my student days. The ticket-collector, perched on a stool at the top of the stairs, had an amateur, girlfriend-of-the-guitarist approach to the job, almost apologising for the entry fee and, incidentally, telling me how much she liked my shirt. ‘Quite stylish for an old bloke’ was what she meant, I thought – until I saw what the musicians were wearing. The multi-instrumentalist leader sported a fleece gilet, hiking trousers and bare feet in Birkenstocks; the trumpeter, looking as though he had just come from the bedroom to get his breakfast, wore a cheap T shirt, baggy gym shorts and socks without shoes; the keyboard man’s outfit was less casual, but he did eat a banana in between numbers; and the drummer, a cool-looking black guy in a sharp, matching sports outfit, looked as if he might be a stand-in for the scruffy regular.

          Perhaps the casual disregard for stage-presence was an intentional part of the band’s public identity. If so, it certainly fitted with the lack of stage-presentation: no master of ceremonies to announce them; a stage unadorned but for a litter of trailing cables and electronic boxes; no smoke machines; no light-show – not even rudimentary mood-enhancing coloured spots. All of which would have cost money, escalated the ticket price and – crucial to my current concern – enlarged the carbon footprint. I doubt, however, that environmental concern was the driving force behind all this austerity. More likely, I think, is the conviction that jazz should not need smoke and mirrors to get its message across. In this case, it certainly did not and, as I walked home feeling virtuous for having enjoyed the performance at low cost to the environment and to my wallet, the extinction of species seemed a remote possibility. How easily distracted we are.

          It is understandable that we might be blasé about Armageddon, given the number of times it has been foretold by religious prophets. It’s an old trick: get people to believe that they are doomed unless they follow a prescribed path and – hey presto! – you have them under your control. Theistic religions play to the irrational side of human behaviour. Their tenets are based on their interpretations of ancient texts and, as such, compete with other interpretations. They can’t all be ‘true’. Furthermore, said texts are so ancient that their authorship is as questionable as their claims to ultimate authority – God – an entity that cannot be proven to exist, let alone dictate texts. It is not surprising, therefore, that priests employ theatrical effects, traditions, rites and rituals to distract their audiences from the absence of facts.

          The prophesy of Extinction Rebellion, however, is based on facts, not smoke and mirrors. Science has demonstrated that the end of the world is nigh. We are all doomed to extinction – (apart from those who believe in an afterlife). Just imagine, there will be no more jazz! Not even in the afterlife. (Well, if they can assert something without proof, then so can I.)