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Irish Examiner
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Examiner
Tom Dunne: Billie Eilish was fab in Dublin but the generation gap still exists
Billie Eilish has blown my 'Generation Gap no longer exists' theory out the window. I was at her gig in 3Arena, Dublin, last weekend. I loved it. But I didn't love it the way my daughter did. She, who is 17 this week, cried tears of joy. Christmas has competition for best day of the year. This theory has been a long time on the back burner. I think music streaming and how music has evolved have changed things. There was a time when new artists seemed like an affront to anyone over 30. But not any more. Causing offence was part of the job. They needed to cleanse the palate and move the previous generation aside by being louder, more brash and more dangerous. They needed to ignite the tabloids, make someone say, 'It's just bloody noise.' But if you were part of the generation that grew up on Ozzy eating bats you could be quite hard to offend. If you loved Nick Cave and Johnny Cash it would take a lot of darkness/insight/wisdom to impress you. You tended to hone in on the song. No one really gets past the shock troops stage if they don't also have a few tunes. These might appear very different to your day, each new generation faces new challenges, but the themes remain the same. Trying to find out who you are, where you fit and who with is as old as time. And people expressing that struggle in song to each new generation of teens is nothing new. Doing these using guitars, synths, beats, samples, raps and variations on these has become the norm. Hence someone like me can like The Cure, Nirvana, Blur, Radiohead and NWA, but also Wet Leg, Taylor, Phoebe Bridgers, SZA, Fontaines DC, CMAT and Kneecap. And my daughter can like the exact same bands but in reverse order. In the UK this has lent itself to the BBC 6Music Dad phenomenon. These are dads that you'll see at the back of concerts by the Last Dinner Party and Yard Act. They dress similarly – vintage T-shirt, jeans, Harrington jacket, man bag – and even have 6Music hats. But they know things. My 'Generation Gap is Over' theory was on the ropes within minutes of arriving. I found myself sharing a pre gig drink with PJ Kirby and Kevin Twomey of the I'm Grand Mam podcast. It was an Old Media (print and radio) v New Media (podcast, socials, influencing) stand-off. It got off to a great start when PJ reassuringly put his hand on my shoulder and said, 'Oh thank God, I thought I might be the oldest person here.' Oh, how we laughed. He and Kevin were fantastic fun but sadly the time to take our seats arrived before PJ could explain to me how I might inhabit the 'influencer' space. Now no one will ever know which stunning, radiant, light-filled cold beer I was lovingly nursing before I went in. The brewer's loss, not mine. Further indications of the generation gap were evident inside. Once you pass a certain age it is incumbent on you to mention how amazing everything is these days. The seats, the venue, the lights, the sound, the staff, the access, the beer. It wasn't like this… you know the drill. And then Billie hit the stage. It will be hard to write after this without using the word 'wow' a lot. The star quality, the voice, the songs, the connection with the audience, the excitement, the emotion, the energy and the use of mobile phones and fan groups to turn 3Arena into the Irish flag of green white and gold. Wow, and double wow. Billie's Birds of a Feather is one of those songs that I could listen to on an endless loop with Radiohead's No Surprises and Massive Attack's Teardrop. It, like them, mesmerises me, soothes me, carries me away. It is pure, unadulterated heaven. My daughter was back the next night with her mates. I knew I'd inhibited her enjoyment. 'How was it this time?' I asked, 'Better?' 'Yes,' she said 'I had a right old sob. It was magic.' And that is the Generation Gap right there. I love Billie's music, but for my daughter loves it differently. For her and her generation, Billie talks to their souls, inhabiting with them and lighting that private world in a way we can only guess at. You can't touch this, as the man said.
Spectator
2 days ago
- Spectator
Make teenage summer jobs compulsory
I'm of an age where a summer's evening often means a few gin and tonics on my balcony along with cheese, olives and an Etta James soundtrack. But it wasn't that long ago that the slow descent of the amber orb meant trekking into Chester city centre to catch a minibus that would take me to a shampoo factory on the outskirts of Flint. There, from 9 p.m. until 7 a.m., my job was to screw the tops on to bottles of shampoo and conditioner to a soundtrack of scatological invective from my workmates, broken only by a 2 a.m. canteen break for cigarettes and a semi-melted KitKat. I endured this for three nights a week between finishing my A-levels and going to university, knowing while I stood at the frequently malfunctioning conveyor belt that some of my mates would at that very moment be boozing in beer gardens and attempting to snog girls to the strains of Pulp and Blur in Raphael's indie disco back in Chester. I was 18, but I'd been working since I was 12 and a half – the age I got my first paper round delivering exactly 144 (that number will never leave my memory) copies of the Chester Standard after school to houses, far too many of which were guarded by dogs seemingly professionally trained to attack children representing the bottom rung of the local press. The canine attacks were frightening and the shampoo bottles were sticky, but the money I earned ensured that I was never short of football stickers and, latterly, pints of Boddingtons. More importantly, doing these horrible jobs as a teenager instilled two important lessons in me. Firstly, you do actually take a pride in getting a wage packet, no matter how vile the work. Secondly, these forms of employment acted as a stern cautionary tale: if I didn't crack on with my studies, then I could be doing this kind of toil for the rest of my life. This was all three decades ago. But as a disabled, state-schooled northerner in the world of London media, I've long stopped feeling incredulous at the reactions of my more privileged brethren when I tell them about those odious teen jobs. I'm painfully aware of the potential to sound like Josiah Bounderby in Hard Times so I've never laid it on too thick with my tales of northern manual labour; after all, doing a paper round and a factory job isn't the same as a career spent down a deep cast mine. But, to many of those I have shared my quotidian, minimum-wage tales with, it seems that I have emerged straight from a chapter of The Road To Wigan Pier, only minus the flat cap and rickets. Am I jealous of their ability to eschew ever having had a summer job – chiefly thanks to the Bank of Mummy and Daddy? Yes, of course. But I also know my soul is purer from having had little choice but to work from a young age. As a result, I'm far less likely to miss a work deadline because it's 'all been a bit frantic here lately' or, most nauseating of all, 'because I've been a bit under the weather'. I've been staggered to discover, from my fiancée's 16-year-old son, just how few of his classmates are working, or even being pressured by parents into getting some kind of summer job – whether it be doing an internship or simply earning a crust at a McDonald's drive-through or at an Amazon warehouse. To sail into university and then into your chosen career without ever having known what it's like to tolerate a summer job is a dangerous way to enter your twenties. You will be more entitled. You will have less resilience. You are far more likely to develop confused, patronising or downright pejorative views about people who have less well-paid work than yourself. And you really won't have the same grasp of the value of a ten pound note. You don't have to travel far these days to find much bloviating around the 'snowflake' attitude of today's teens. And while any legislated insistence on 16- to 18-year-olds procuring a summer job of some kind is hardly the equivalent to demanding the reinstatement of national service, there probably should be consequences for the in-betweeners who decide to spend their summer gaming and guzzling rather than doing at least a moderate amount of grafting. So, without wishing to sound too much like one of the Four Yorkshiremen from Monty Python, I humbly suggest that, if you have done no work at all between the end of your GCSEs and the start of university (and work could include anything from volunteering to a lengthy internship or just sweating it out behind the till at Lidl), then this should count against you when it comes to getting into your chosen university. This could quite easily be accomplished. A few pay stubs or a letter from an employer stating that you have held down a job of some kind should be included with a university application. (Oh, and getting a family member to say that young Toby or Cordelia worked as an intern at Dad's company absolutely won't cut it.) If choosing to party in Ibiza on mum and dad's money can make the difference between getting into either Balliol or the University of Bolton, then teens might find that earning a crust for at least part of their summer is worth the strain. Are there jobs available for 16- to 18-year-olds? Yes, of course – and any claim otherwise should be robustly dismissed by parents if hollered at them by a truculent teen. There is a recruitment crisis in the realms of catering, hospitality and manual work in this country. Many of the jobs are zero hours, many of them come via an agency and almost none of them are well paid. But any teen can get one. As I found myself, nothing works better for scaring you straight than the notion that a lack of academic effort could result in the foreman at a North Wales shampoo factory offering you a job, and I quote, 'full time, if things don't work out, Rob'. So far (and I'm 47 now), they have worked out. But the memory of screwing on those bottle tops at 3 a.m. in 1996 is palpable. Every young man or woman, if they ever feel complacent in their first post-graduation career job, should be able to summon up the smell of chip fat, the weight of a beer barrel or the mephitic odour of cheap shampoo in their leaner moments. A tough summer job isn't for life. But the memory and experience of one is capable, over the succeeding decades, of making you graft harder, make excuses less easily and, just maybe, make you a little more grateful for what you now have.
RTÉ News
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- RTÉ News
'I thought they were just another band'
Ahead of their reunion shows in Croke Park in August, Dave Fanning presents a new three-part RTÉ Radio 1 series looking back on his interviews with Oasis Dave Fanning is recalling the first time he ever heard a hotly tipped new band from Manchester called Oasis. It was April 1994 and the five-piece led by two saturnine looking brothers called Noel and Liam had just released their debut single, an extremely impressive opening gambit entitled Supersonic. It was the start of something very, very big - but one Irish tasty maker didn't see it coming and he's the first to admit it. "I thought they were just another band," says Fanning, who has seen plenty of 'just another bands' come and go over his fifty years as a DJ and music fanatic. "I didn't jump at it and say their first album is the greatest album ever made. I had no idea." Funny how things turn out because starting at 6pm this Saturday on RTÉ Radio 1, the DJ and wireless veteran presents The Fanning Files: Oasis, a new three-part series looking back on his many meetings with the Mancunian super stars. Over the course of three episodes to be aired ahead of the band's reunion shows at Croke Park, Fanning will revisit the interviews he did with the band and the solo Gallagher brothers over the years - starting in 1994 and going all the way to 2024. "The first interview we did in the studio in 2fm in September 1994 just before the first album was released," Fanning recalls. "Bonehead and Noel did two live numbers - a very good version of Slide Away and the other was Live Forever, which Mojo magazine later put at No 1 in the top fifty Oasis songs ever." Fanning was to meet Oasis many times over the next thirty years and Noel remains one the funniest and sharpest men he's ever met. "He is fantastic!" says Fanning. "He's quick, he's smart, he knows how to tell a good story and he knows how to slag the brother in a way that is really quite warm and nice. "Liam is street smart and he's a bit mad but he's pretty cool but Noel is very together, very quick. He's well able to talk and he knows that he likes and he'll say it straight out." Anyone who remembers what was going on in rock 'n' roll back in the early nineties will know the wild success of Oasis wasn't just down to Noel's talent for penning football terrace anthems with Slade-sized choruses. "It was pretty obvious that it was going to happen," says Fanning. "It was perfect because Oasis were yobs! People were crying out for an in your face rock 'n' roll band. Oasis gave us that and maybe they were the last rock 'n' roll band. "It's all about lads throwing their arms around each other. Does that mean I love it? Give me Nick Cave or even Blur any day . . . " So, was he, to ask the question of the day back then, Oasis or Blur. "I would have been Blur." And way back in 1994, was Dave Fanning, who turns 70 next year, mad fer it? "Ehhhh, no. I was probably too old to be mad for it," he laughs. "I didn't buy the right hat or walk the right way but I did enjoy all that. I always enjoy a movement - like Madchester and Grunge and Liverpool, a hundred years ago." Of course, some might say that after two very good albums with Definitely Maybe and What's The Story (Morning Glory)?, Oasis very quickly calcified into dad rock bloat. "One of the interviews we have on the series is from 1997 for their third album, Be Here Now, and Oasis are on top of the world, the biggest selling rock act in the world," recalls Fanning. "And you can feel it - Be Here Now wasn't all that great, the songs are way too long, all the orchestra stuff is nonsensical, every song is six minutes long and they should be three minutes. You can see the overindulgence." The Fanning Files: Oasis will include contributions from Liam and Noel Gallagher, Bonehead, Andy Bell, Alan McGee and the band's original drummer Tony McCarroll. There will be stories, banter and anecdotes, including Noel's own story of why he walked away from it all at that Rock en Seine Paris gig back in '09. And, of course, Fanning will be in Croke Park to witness Oasis' first Irish shows in 16 years on 16 and 17 of August. ""Yes, I'll be there but I'm not looking so forward to it like everybody else is with their arms around each other, drinking pints," he says. "The thing is, Oasis don't put on a show. Look at Chris Martin, he really knows how to bring in the whole audience. Oasis do nothing! Your man stands there with his hands behind his back. "I went to see that covers band No-asis and your man stands there with his hands behind his back but when Noel is doing his solo songs, he ambles over and headbutts him! And the place goes wild." He adds, "Last Friday I went to the Purty Loft in Dun Laoghaire to see a David Bowie tribute act. Saturday and Sunday, I was at Billie Eilish. I also went to Coldplay in Croker last year - and they are for girls!"
Forbes
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Forbes
Supersonic Siblings: Oasis Brothers Feature In Wembley Park Photo Exhibition
Noel and Liam Gallagher of British rock band Oasis on Portland St, Manchester, 2 August 1994. Kevin Cummins / Iconic Images Wembley Park is hosting a free outdoor photography exhibition of images taken by celebrated NME photographer Kevin Cummins of Liam and Noel Gallagher in 1994. The exhibition coincides with the Oasis Live '25 reunion tour. As Oasis fans pack stadiums for the much anticipated music reunion of the decade, Wembley Park has unveiled a free outdoor photography exhibition, featuring photographs by Kevin Cummins that capture the brotherly bond and raw talent that defined the early days of Liam and Noel Gallagher. Titled Brothers: Liam and Noel Through the Lens of Kevin Cummins , the open-air exhibition features over twenty large-scale portraits taken in 1994 by Cummins. Installed throughout Wembley Park–including along Olympic Way and outside Wembley Stadium–the exhibition provides a rare glimpse into the early relationship between the famously combative siblings who powered Oasis to global stardom. This isn't just another collection of rock 'n' roll photographs. It's a visual love letter to a band, a moment, and a brotherhood that helped shape British pop culture. Brothers is timed to coincide with Oasis's reunion tour–an event that's already turned Wembley into a pilgrimage site for a new generation of Britpop enthusiasts and nostalgic original fans alike. Brothers, Wembley, Oasis Photography Exhibition. Images by Kevin Cummins. Kevin Cummins/ Iconic Images Oasis's seminal album Morning Glory was released in 1995–a year after Cummins' photoshoots with the Gallagher brothers, before their sound went Supersonic. Morning Glory became a soundtrack for Nineties Britain–with Oasis famously locking horns with chart rivals Blur during the height of Britpop–and signalling a new golden age for British music, with Oasis fandom reaching similar giddy heights to Beatle-mania. Three decades since the Cool Britannia phenomenon and Oasis-mania has returned with their sellout tour, making it a perfect moment to revisit Cummins' raw images of Liam and Noel on the cusp of global stardom. I asked Kevin Cummins if he feels his 1994 images of Liam and Noel challenge or reinforce the public perception of their turbulent relationship: 'It wasn't turbulent when I took those photos. The point of them was to reinforce the sibling relationship. The fact that these photos have consistently been used over the past 31 years, proves that worked.' A Tender Take on a Turbulent Bond Most media portrayals of Liam and Noel Gallagher focus on their legendary fallouts and tabloid-worthy feuds. But 'Brothers' shows something very different: a deep emotional connection forged in the chaos of rising fame. Cummins' photos–many on display for the first time–were taken during a pivotal year in Oasis's history: 1994. That was the run-up to the release of their debut album, Definitely Maybe , which would go on to become one of the fastest-selling debut albums in UK chart history. But these images predate the mega stardom. They show the Gallaghers in hotel rooms, tour buses, and backstreets—relaxed, playful, and close. Back in 1994 Liam and Noel were musicians starting to make waves on the Manchester music scene, but their star was still in the ascendant–whereas Cummins was a celebrated NME photographer, known for his images of many high-profile musicians of the era. I asked Cummins how he engaged with the Brothers to capture such natural images of the young siblings pre-global stardom: He explained: 'There are many photo shoots from 1994. It wasn't just one day you know. I was better known than they were at that time and they were aware of the work I'd done with some of their favourite musicians: Joy Division, The Smiths, Sex Pistols especially, so they were good to work with. They did everything I asked of them. We got on well because we liked similar music, supported Man City and we had similar backgrounds.' The photos are spontaneous and unstyled, and there's a palpable sense that Cummins' Mancunian swagger and youthful confidence behind the lens was mirrored by Liam and Noel in front of it. Liam slouches in an Adidas tracksuit; Noel contemplates a guitar in a quiet Amsterdam hotel room. There are shots from backstage, in alleyways, and on public transport, including a memorable snap of the brothers hopping on a No.73 bus in central London. One standout image captures the Gallaghers in matching Manchester City shirts with the word 'Brother' emblazoned across the front—a now-iconic moment in British pop photography. Brothers, Wembley, Oasis Photography Exhibition. Images by Kevin Cummins. Kevin Cummins / Iconic Images An Archive That Helped Shape a Band's Identity Kevin Cummins is no stranger to capturing defining cultural moments. As the former chief photographer for NME , his images chronicled the rise of era-defining bands including Joy Division, The Smiths and New Order. In 1994, Creation Records brought Cummins in not only to document Oasis but to help shape how the band presented themselves to the world. Cummins' work with the Gallaghers culminated in the bestselling photo book Oasis: The Masterplan– published last year–which offered fans a sweeping visual history of the band's breakthrough year. The Brothers exhibition narrows the focus of images from the book, spotlighting the emotional core of the Brothers' story: the complex, tender, and often volatile relationship between Liam and Noel. Brothers showcases images from across the UK and Europe—London, Manchester, Portsmouth, Newport, and Amsterdam. One of the images shows Noel alone in Amsterdam, stranded after a fight on a ferry led to the deportation of the rest of the band. Other highlights include Oasis's first studio session at Sly Street Studios in February 1994, and an unforgettable full-band portrait in a rubbish-strewn alley off Manchester's Back George Street. The exhibition's Curator Claudio Giambrone has a pedigree of curating photographic exhibitions with a music focus–last summer he curated an exhibition of Taylor Swift photos with Getty Images– and he told me that he wanted to curate an Oasis tribute when the Oasis gigs were announced. Giambrone gave me some insight into how the project happened and gives some insight into the collaboration with Cummins: 'I knew Kevin's name through some of his portraits of Nick Cave, who I'm a fan of, but I hadn't really explored his Oasis work until I started working on this exhibition. I reached out to Iconic Images Gallery, who represent a number of photographers with material on the band. My original idea was to curate something about the whole, using images from different photographers. But they suggested I focus on just one, and recommended Kevin. That's when I found out he'd recently published a book of his Oasis work. They got in touch with him, and he kindly agreed to give me access to his archive of over 150 photographs. Once I saw the images, it was clear he was the right choice. There's a level of trust in his work that goes beyond the usual press shots. His photographs feel honest and personal, probably because he's also a personal friend of the brothers and worked with them on and off for 30 years. As I went through them, I moved away from the initial idea for this to be a traditional band retrospective. What really stood out to me from Kevin's material was the dynamic between the brothers. There's affection, tenderness and a strong brotherly bond. I wanted the exhibition to focus on that. Something that would resonate not only with fans of the band, but with anyone who's got a sibling.' Brothers: Liam and Noel Through the Lens of Kevin Cummins © Amanda Rose More Than Nostalgia–A Celebration of Cultural Impact Cummins is clear about the significance of this moment—not just for Oasis fans, but for British culture as a whole. 'When (What's the Story) Morning Glory? came out in 1995, it was the national soundtrack. You heard it in every pub, corner shop, car, and open window. That sort of cultural dominance just doesn't happen anymore,' he reflects. 'Now, we're back in 'Oasis world' again—and it's thrilling. I love that people who lived it the first time are now sharing it with their kids.' It's this sense of generational connection that gives the exhibition its emotional weight. Younger fans–many of whom weren't even born when Definitely Maybe was released–are now descending on Wembley to experience the band's legacy firsthand. Brothers offers a visual bridge between past and present, allowing fans to connect not just with the music, but with the human story behind it. So how does Cummins feel about the enduring significance of his images, and how they helped to shape a narrative of Oasis? 'They're significant because they helped shape the way they were perceived by the public and the media. Many were taken to work out what best suited their image and helped form that too.' Brothers, Wembley, Oasis Photography Exhibition. Images by Kevin Cummins. Kevin Cummins/ Iconic Images Wembley Park's Expanding Cultural Footprint Cummins and Giambrone wanted the exhibition to be free and accessible to all, and given that thousands of fans couldn't get tickets, Brothers is an opportunity to experience some Oasis nostalgia through images of Liam and Noel. Claudio Giambrone explains: 'Oasis first played Wembley Stadium in July 2000, so this year marks exactly 25 years since that show. That felt like the right moment to do something that celebrates what they've meant to music and to their fans. They've also played both Wembley Arena and the Stadium a few more times over the years, so there's a real connection with this place. The fact that the exhibition sits right between the two venues makes it even more meaningful. What I really wanted to do was extend the experience beyond the gig itself. For the fans who were here 25 years ago, but also for younger ones who might not have been around in the 90s as well as the casual visitors, this gives a bit more context. It's a way to understand the relationship between the brothers–not just the arguments or the public spats, but the bond, the humour, the moments of real affection that often get missed. Kevin Cummins' photos really capture that, and his captions, along with a few quotes from Noel, add another layer to it all.' The Brothers exhibition is part of the Wembley Park Art Trail, a growing initiative that's gradually transforming the area into one of London's most dynamic cultural zones. Alongside Cummins' photographs, visitors can explore the now-viral Swiftie Steps (a Taylor Swift tribute), a mural to Lana Del Rey, and the Square of Fame, which includes the handprints of Madonna, George Michael, The Who, and other music legends. Oasis has a strong connection to Wembley Park, and the Brothers exhibition celebrates this connection and the contribution of Oasis to British Music history. The open-air format means the exhibition is fully accessible 24/7. You don't need a ticket. You don't even need to be going to the reunion gigs. You just need to walk down Olympic Way and look up. Brothers: Liam and Noel Through the Lens of Kevin Cummins © Amanda Rose More Than Just Rock 'n' Roll At a time when much of the music industry feels increasingly digital and distant with entire teams of managers, stylists and PR's surrounding bands and manipulating their image, Brothers looks back at a simpler, more analogue and unfiltered era. Two brothers, a camera, and a moment in time. Unfiltered, unguarded, unforgettable. Cummins played a role in shaping the early visual identity of Oasis, in particular the Brother shots where he came up with the masterstroke of photographing Liam and Noel wearing Manchester City football shirts with the logo of Japanese electronics company Brother, a double entendre which confused some people outside the UK. Cummins explains: 'The Brother shots helped take them to another level–especially in other territories–where some people were maybe unaware that Brother was a Japanese electronics company. In the USA I was asked more than once if it because they were a brotherhood. One journalist asked why I'd had Brother printed on the shirts, rather than Liam and Noel. They were also unaware of British sport at the time, so the Manchester City branding passed them by too.' Brothers. Wembley. Oasis photo exhibition. Images by Kevin Cummins. Kevin Cummins / Iconic Images The exhibition stands as both a nostalgic tribute and a contemporary celebration of one of Britain's most influential bands. Whether you're reliving memories or discovering Oasis for the first time, Kevin Cummins' photographs offer something timeless. It's not just about Oasis. It's about family, fame, identity—and how a few photographs can capture the storm before the supernova. Brothers: Liam and Noel Through the Lens of Kevin Cummins is at Wembley Park, London until 30th September, 2025 and is presented in partnership with Iconic Images and the Wembley Park Art Trail.
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Fathers by John Niven review – class satire with grit
They're an unlikely duo. Jada is a petty criminal who lives hand to mouth in a cramped 60s tower block and can't remember how many children he has. Dan is a TV producer with a Tesla outside his mansion and who – after five years of trying and six rounds of IVF – is about to meet his first child. The pair encounter each other outside the sliding doors of Glasgow's Queen Elizabeth University hospital, where Dan takes sips of cold air while he comes to terms with the wonder and terror of first-time parenthood and Jada sneaks a quick fag. Dan examines Jada's vigilant eyes and seasonally inappropriate sportswear; Jada clocks Dan's Rolex and works out how quickly he could take him in a fight. They bump into each other again in the lift a few days later, laying the seeds for a relationship that will reveal what divides them and what they share, building to a climax of kinship and betrayal. Since leaving his job as an A&R manager in 2002, John Niven has written novels and screenplays that mix industry satire (pop, publishing, film) with sometimes eye-popping hedonism; presumably both will feature in his next project, a 2026 play about Blur and Oasis called The Battle. Yet while there's a fair bit of hard living in The Fathers, Niven's latest also shows his softer side, as the two fortysomething Glaswegian protagonists manage domesticity. Dan obsessively childproofs his house, buying expensive baby accessories and doing his best to be the perfect dad to Tom, while Jada tries to be more present with his girlfriend Nicola and new son Jayden than he has been for his other children – for which read 'not very'. For all Dan's efforts, the mums take on the greatest share of child rearing, giving the dads space to transform their careers. Dan, bored with his wildly popular TV series McCallister (think Taggart meets Hamish MacBeth), aims to kill off the main character and write a novel. Jada, meanwhile, has a contact at Prestwick airport who can siphon off military surplus meant for Ukraine – a gig he thinks could set him up for life. Classic Scottish literary themes of duality, sentiment and booze are rarely far from the surface, most of them viewed through the prism of class. In the hospital, Dan's wife, Grace, has a private room and a smoothie that 'cost more than wine and tasted like cut grass'. On Nicola's bedside are a pack of cigarettes, a giant Toblerone and a bottle of Irn-Bru. In the months that come, Jayden's sippy cup is filled with the fizzy nectar, while Nicola and Jada enjoy the occasional blow-out with beer from 'PriceBeaster', plus ecstasy and heroin. Down the road, the West End's gentrified stretches do a steady trade in 'macchiatos, pastel de natas and designer knitwear'. There's plenty of inequality, hypocrisy and self-destruction on show, but Niven is also here for the laughs in a book that is sometimes very funny, but also happy to lean into cliche. You yearn to hear from someone who's neither an upper-middle-class twit nor a feckless chancer, or to hear a man articulate his feelings without the spurs of alcohol or desperation. Yet Niven never forgets his characters' humanity, and there's some fine detail on the way, whether comic (brushing a baby's teeth is like trying to 'draw a moustache on a live eel with a felt-tip pen') or poetic (in a brighter moment, Nicola marvels at the city, 'aw golden and peach and the river was dead flat and calm and there wiznae a soul around'). As The Fathers gets going, Niven tightens his narrative like a noose. By a third of the way in, the book is veering between unputdownable and put-it-down-quick-before-something-bad-happens. Jada's airport connection unearths a crate of pistols, which he aims to sell to a Northern Irish terrorist group, while Dan suffers a shocking disaster that flings him out of his herringbone-floored home into Jada's world of dodgy deals, sporadic violence and daytime pints. The result is a comic melodrama that's never dull, and a satire that hits most of its targets. After the darkness Niven lets in, the ending feels a touch glib, but the slow comradeship that grows between the two leads is charming nonetheless. The Fathers is a fine choice for anyone who likes a little grit in their holiday read. Sign up to Bookmarks Discover new books and learn more about your favourite authors with our expert reviews, interviews and news stories. Literary delights delivered direct to you after newsletter promotion The Fathers by John Niven is published by Canongate (£18.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.
