Half-baked ideas that get too much currency, number 27 in a series of far too many.

In my reading today I come across once more the idea that "we do not experience the world directly," the reasoning being that our perceptions are filtered through our senses and only a fraction of the available information gets through.

I find two inadmissible assumptions here. The first is that there is some meaningful way of defining a living human being which excludes the body, the senses, the personality and so on. We are presumed to be idealised entities of pure mind imprisoned in gross fleshly shells which cut us off from the full wonder of creation. This is a very beautiful poetic fancy, and like most very beautiful poetic fancies, a moment's rational thought exposes it as utter piffle. While I do in fact believe that our minds come from, or live in, a different realm from that which our bodies inhabit (though the nature of that realm is not something about which I have any settled beliefs), as human beings we are a single, indivisible package, each element shaping and conditioning all the others, and to single out one such element as more "real" or more "human" than the others is nonsensical.

The second inadmissible assumption is that these idealised beings of pure mind, were they not fettered by these squalid cages of meat which cramp their style so, would have some inherent means of perceiving the universe which would be more "direct," more "true" or more "accurate" than our senses. This of course is the old SF standard of extra-sensory perception, in which we are not supposed to believe because it is not supported by scientific evidence. Again, it's a nice idea, but it seems more likely to me that the pure mind beings would have to evolve or construct other sensory mechanisms which would be just as limited as the ones we have.

In other words, the idea that "we do not experience the world directly" depends on definitions of the words "we" and "directly" which have no basis in fact. It's a half-baked, insufficiently thought through notion more suited for late night student discussions than serious consideration. As whole human beings, we experience the world as directly as it is possible to experience it, and through various devices we have expanded that experience to a considerable degree. There is no conceivable way in which we could make it more "direct."

And in my opinion, the limits on our perception of reality have been of considerable benefit to us in a number of ways, and will be so in the future; they prevent our minds from being swamped with irrelevancies; they enable us to make aesthetic judgments on those parts of reality we do perceive, and to be inspired to create art in imitation of our perceptions and expand them in that way; and they give us a sense of more to be discovered, which leads us to discover more.

Or am I wrong?

Review - "Coming To A Theatre Near You"

Reviewed by Jerik Du'Ell.

The Truesingers have never shied away from confounding their audience's expectations. From their first appearances in the folk venues of their native world, Argenthome (yes, yes, we know, but that was where they started as serious artists), and their first album, cringeworthily titled Bring Ye Ballads Fair, they soon began writing and recording their own material, and just when people had got used to that, they lurched sideways into political activism and nearly killed their career stone dead. While the dust was still settling from that row, this acoustic trio of sweet folk singers teamed up with none other than Tollain Kintarsh, master of moody, complex, synthesised rock, and all over the sector lovers of folk donned black armbands as the Truesingers vanished into new monster band Gestalt.

Or so everyone thought. But now the Truesingers are back, with a brand new album, Coming To A Theatre Near You, and while it shows the influence of their new bandmates, and they do help out on about half of the tracks, this is still quite recognisably a Truesingers album, and a worthy successor to Out And About, which reached number 13 in the sector-wide album chart compiled by Interscan. We think this one should do as well if not better.

The album kicks off with High Drama, a relentless six-eighter, and right there you've got Tollain on drums and Orville Torres on bass, while the girls run through a litany of dramatic situations in their trademark close harmony. This is immediately followed by Sir Cantaloupe And The Wuzzle, a fanciful tale with a twist, put over with nothing but guitar, flute, tambourine and voices. You could see it going over brilliantly at any re-enactment camp. And so it goes; What We Never Said, a wistful ballad of what might have been, is followed by the raunchy, rocking Take No Prisoners, in which Kaichang Belgardis demonstrates the power of her baritone with piratical elan; the sweet, fluffy Could You Even Try? skips along like a dance, and gives way to the slow, pensive Matryoshka, in which Suncat muses on the inner life of a wooden doll. No two songs are remotely the same, and it's to the Truesingers' credit that they use the increased resources available to them intelligently and sparingly.

The high point of the album, for this reviewer, is the penultimate track, Make It Home, which I'm convinced will be the breakaway hit of the collection. Again, Kaichang takes the lead in this tale of shipwrecked mariners, and pulls out all the stops with a blistering axe solo after the second bridge. It would be hard to top that, but they give it a good try with the closing number, Pull Back, Roll Credits, sung by Verneen Halannim, whose voice, once barely audible, has gained remarkably in power and conviction since their last outing.

The question remains, though; is this the last hurrah of the Truesingers as a separate entity, or will they manage to retain their integrity as a threesome? Only time will tell. Either way, this album is a must for established fans, for anyone who enjoys good songs well sung, and indeed for folkies as well. (Watch it. Ed.)

First published in Cosmorama, volume 287 no 6. Reprinted here by permission.