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Sir Brian Clarke obituary
Sir Brian Clarke obituary

The Guardian

time09-07-2025

  • General
  • The Guardian

Sir Brian Clarke obituary

In later life, the artist Brian Clarke, who has died aged 71 of cancer, liked to recall an epiphany. As a child, on a school trip from his native Oldham to York Minster, and being shown its Great East Window, he had, he said, 'ceased to be aware of his friends, even of location, because something beyond location had replaced it'. He passed out cold. This experience, which he described on the online arts platform Heni in 2023, attached him to what he called the 'unbroken line to a glorious, complex and majestic past' represented by stained glass. When the Minster's east window had been finished in the first decade of the 15th century, most of the people who saw it would have been peasants living in poverty. Clarke's awe was their awe. The son of Edward, a coalminer, and Lilian (nee Whitehead), a cotton spinner at a local mill, Clarke had had a financially hard childhood. 'I am working class by birth and by inclination,' he would later say. 'My art is for the working class.' It was also largely made in stained glass. His family having an interest in spiritualism, Clarke was sent to a spiritualist school before, at 13, winning a scholarship to Oldham School of Art and moving on to the Burnley College of Art two years later. At 17, he enrolled in the architectural stained glass course at North Devon College of Art and Design, graduating, in 1970, with a diploma in design. At the Devon art school he had met a fellow student, Liz Finch, whom he married in 1972. Finch's father, a clergyman, encouraged his new son-in-law to make a career in ecclesiastical glass. Like many art students of his day, however, Clarke had been won over by the snappy imagery of Pop artists such as Peter Blake. When he sent off his portfolio to traditional ecclesiastical glass makers, it was returned with horror. It was only in 1975 that he found a patron willing to commission him. The resulting window, at All Saints Church in Habergham Eaves, Lancashire, retold the creation story in blocks of saturated colour. This was later described by one art historian as 'the great dissonant masterpiece of English ecclesiastical stained glass of the 20th century'. Even so, its maker's life was hardly one of Anglican decorum. A 1983 photograph of Clarke by John Swannell in the National Portrait Gallery shows a faintly Bowie-esque artist apparently mid-crucifixion. By now, he had been the subject of an hour-long BBC Omnibus programme called Brian Clarke: The Story So Far (1978-79). This, and a Vogue Homme cover shot by Robert Mapplethorpe, propelled him into the London limelight. He was taken up by the gallerist Robert Fraser, known as Groovy Bob, who introduced him to the capital's creative beau monde: Paul and Linda McCartney, Vivienne Westwood, Malcolm McLaren and, fatefully, Francis Bacon. Bacon's response to the question put to him by Clarke at their first meeting hinted at a problem in the younger artist's future career. When Clarke asked Bacon whether he had ever made work in stained glass, the painter sneered, 'No, and I've never done any macrame either, dear.' Although Clarke also made paintings and works on paper, his fame, then as now, rested on his work as a maker of stained glass; and stained glass making was a craft, not an art. This stigma would continue to haunt him. Nevertheless, developing a technique by which he could work directly on float glass – 'You couldn't do a leaded window on a skyscraper,' Clarke reasonably remarked – he became internationally successful, particularly in architectural glass. In 1980, he was commissioned to design a decorative programme for the mosque at King Khalid airport at Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, studying the aniconic traditions of Islamic art at Qur'an school in Fez for the purpose. This was followed by other high-profile commissions, notably for the New York headquarters of the drug giant Pfizer (1995), and the architect Will Alsop's Hôtel du Département des Bouches du Rhône (1994), known locally as Le Grand Bleu for Clarke's wrap-around blue glass skin. He added backlit panels and pillars to Norman Foster's design for Stansted Airport (1991), and worked with Zaha Hadid on an unrealised housing project in Austria. (Clarke dubbed the material he had made for this Zaha-Glass.) He turned Queen Victoria Street in Leeds into an arcade by covering it over with a glazed roof (1990). His non-architectural glass works were shown in the bluest of blue-chip commercial venues, including the Gagosian and Pace galleries in London, and, most recently, at Damien Hirst's Newport Street gallery, in an exhibition held to mark the artist's 70th birthday. And yet the art establishment largely looked away. Although the Tate owns a suite of Clarke's works on paper, it has none of them on glass. No major public gallery has ever given him a show; he was never made a Royal Academician. In part, this was because of a lingering snobbery about what was seen as craft, although there was also a sense that the mass appeal of Clarke's work made it just too easy to be serious. 'People haven't always liked my art,' he said in an interview at the time of his 2023 show. 'People have been downright fucking rude about it, in fact. But it's all I've ever done.' His habit of falling out with museum directors did not help. 'I used to say it doesn't matter because they'll retire or die, then there'll be a new generation of them,' Clarke said. 'But now I've had rows with all the new ones too. British museums have made a point of ignoring me my entire career.' His capacity for belligerence was not confined to his own work. On Bacon's death in 1992, his companion, John Edwards, made Clarke an executor of the artist's estate. In 1998, he became its sole executor, launching a lawsuit against Bacon's former gallery, the Marlborough, for breach of duty over the painter, which was eventually dismissed and a settlement reached out of court, on terms that remain unknown. History repeated itself when Clarke became chairman of the Zaha Hadid Foundation following the architect's untimely death in 2016. A series of disputes between the foundation and Hadid's architectural firm followed, described in the press as toxic. Clarke was knighted in 2024. He and Liz were divorced in 1996, before remarrying in 2013. She and their son, Dan, survive him. Brian Clarke, artist, born 2 July 1953; died 1 July 2025

‘Will AI take my job?' A trip to a Beijing fortune-telling bar to see what lies ahead
‘Will AI take my job?' A trip to a Beijing fortune-telling bar to see what lies ahead

The Guardian

time05-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

‘Will AI take my job?' A trip to a Beijing fortune-telling bar to see what lies ahead

In the age of self-help, self-improvement and self-obsession, there have never been more places to look to for guidance. Where the anxious and the uncertain might have once consulted a search engine for answers, now we can engage in a seemingly meaningful discussion about our problems with ChatGPT. Or, if you're in China, DeepSeek. To some, though, it feels as if our ancestors knew more about life than we do. Or at least, they knew how to look for them. And so it is that scores of young Chinese are turning to ancient forms of divination to find out what the future holds. In the past couple of years, fortune-telling bars have been popping up in China's cities, offering drinks and snacks alongside xuanxue, or spiritualism. The trend makes sense: China's economy is struggling, and although consumers are saving their pennies, going out for a drink is cheaper than other forms of retail therapy or an actual therapist. With a deep-rooted culture of mysticism that blends Daoist, Buddhist and folk practices, which have defied decades of the government trying to stamp out superstitious beliefs, for many Chinese people, turning to the unseen makes perfect sense. This week, I decided to join them. My xuanxue haunt of choice is Qie Le, a newly opened bar in Beijing's wealthy Chaoyang district. On a Thursday evening, the bar, adorned with yellow Taoist talismans and draped translucent curtains, is quiet. All the better for hogging the fortune-teller's attention with questions from my deep wells of narcissism. But Wan Mo, either because of her spiritual intuition or because I am not the first self-involved millennial to seek her services, sees me coming a mile off. It's strictly one question per drink bought. Wan Mo, a stylish 36-year-old dressed in a loose white Tang-style jacket fastened with traditional Chinese knots, specialises in qiuqian, or Chinese lottery sticks. The practice involves shaking a cylindrical wooden container full of wooden sticks, while focusing on a question in your mind. Eventually, one of the sticks, engraved with text and numerals, falls out, and a fortune-teller can interpret the answer. Qiuqian dates back to the Jin dynasty (AD266 to AD420) and has survived centuries of war, upheaval, a Cultural Revolution and the rise of artificial intelligence to remain a stalwart of Taoist temples, and now, Beijing cocktail bars. So I'm hoping that qiuqian will be well placed to answer my first question: Will AI take my job? 'Use both hands,' Wan Mo says firmly. She is a no-nonsense savant. 'Focus on your question.' She tells me that as a foreigner, my connection with the sticks might not be as profound as a Chinese person's. So I need to 'think carefully'. After a few seconds of focused yet vigorous shaking, not one but two sticks drop on to the table between us. Wan Mo studies the first one. 'This stick means that later on, AI will have an impact on your job … even though you're very talented, you can't compete with its scale. For example, if you write one article, it can write 10. It will definitely affect you.' This is not the spiritual salve I was hoping for. Wan Mo tells me that the second stick even provides a timeline for my professional redundancy. 'It says that within one to three years, there won't be a major impact. But after three years, AI will become a major force.' Wan Mo's predictions don't leave me full of hope for my next question. But in the spirit of xuanxue, I decide to try my luck again, and order another round. We take a brief break for Wan Mo to have a cigarette break and catch up with a friend who has wandered into the bar. His chipper demeanour makes me think that he is yet to discover that AI will take his job – or he's just made his peace with it. Eventually I muster up enough liquid courage to ask my second question. Wan Mo's stern demeanour sends a slight chill through my hands as I grasp the qiuqian box for the second time. Shake, shake, shake. Think, think, think. A single wooden stick falls out of the container. 'Will I get a pay rise?' I ask, tentatively. The answer comes unnervingly quickly. 'There's not much possibility at the moment. Although [the stick] is about transition … it shows there is no major change … There is some hope, but it's not immediate. You need to make some personal adjustments.' I ask what kind of personal adjustments I could make, hoping that she won't make me order another drink to find out. 'If you want a pay rise, xuanxue can only offer support,' she demurs. 'For example, the bracelet I'm wearing is for attracting wealth. It's made from natural materials … we'd recommend wearing something like this. It can help bring in some financial luck and may have a positive effect. But the most important thing is still communicating with the superiors.' I am not sure if she means my spiritual or editorial superiors. But with that my time is up. Wan Mo's friend says that everyone comes to Qie Le with the same kinds of questions: how to get rich, stay healthy, find love. I feel as if all I've discovered is how dim my chances are on the first question, and it's getting too late to ask the second and third. I slink off home to get some sleep before my early start the next day. I bet AI doesn't have to worry about feeling tired. Additional research by Lillian Yang

‘Will AI take my job?' A trip to a Beijng fortune-telling bar to see what lies ahead
‘Will AI take my job?' A trip to a Beijng fortune-telling bar to see what lies ahead

The Guardian

time05-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

‘Will AI take my job?' A trip to a Beijng fortune-telling bar to see what lies ahead

In the age of self-help, self-improvement and self-obsession, there have never been more places to look to for guidance. Where the anxious and the uncertain might have once consulted a search engine for answers, now we can engage in a seemingly meaningful discussion about our problems with ChatGPT. Or, if you're in China, DeepSeek. To some, though, it feels as if our ancestors knew more about life than we do. Or at least, they knew how to look for them. And so it is that scores of young Chinese are turning to ancient forms of divination to find out what the future holds. In the past couple of years, fortune-telling bars have been popping up in China's cities, offering drinks and snacks alongside xuanxue, or spiritualism. The trend makes sense: China's economy is struggling, and although consumers are saving their pennies, going out for a drink is cheaper than other forms of retail therapy or an actual therapist. With a deep-rooted culture of mysticism that blends Daoist, Buddhist and folk practices, which have defied decades of the government trying to stamp out superstitious beliefs, for many Chinese people, turning to the unseen makes perfect sense. This week, I decided to join them. My xuanxue haunt of choice is Qie Le, a newly opened bar in Beijing's wealthy Chaoyang district. On a Thursday evening, the bar, adorned with yellow Taoist talismans and draped translucent curtains, is quiet. All the better for hogging the fortune-teller's attention with questions from my deep wells of narcissism. But Wan Mo, either because of her spiritual intuition or because I am not the first self-involved millennial to seek her services, sees me coming a mile off. It's strictly one question per drink bought. Wan Mo, a stylish 36-year-old dressed in a loose white Tang-style jacket fastened with traditional Chinese knots, specialises in qiuqian, or Chinese lottery sticks. The practice involves shaking a cylindrical wooden container full of wooden sticks, while focusing on a question in your mind. Eventually, one of the sticks, engraved with text and numerals, falls out, and a fortune-teller can interpret the answer. Qiuqian dates back to the Jin dynasty (AD266 to AD420) and has survived centuries of war, upheaval, a Cultural Revolution and the rise of artificial intelligence to remain a stalwart of Taoist temples, and now, Beijing cocktail bars. So I'm hoping that qiuqian will be well placed to answer my first question: Will AI take my job? 'Use both hands,' Wan Mo says firmly. She is a no-nonsense savant. 'Focus on your question.' She tells me that as a foreigner, my connection with the sticks might not be as profound as a Chinese person's. So I need to 'think carefully'. After a few seconds of focused yet vigorous shaking, not one but two sticks drop on to the table between us. Wan Mo studies the first one. 'This stick means that later on, AI will have an impact on your job … even though you're very talented, you can't compete with its scale. For example, if you write one article, it can write 10. It will definitely affect you.' This is not the spiritual salve I was hoping for. Wan Mo tells me that the second stick even provides a timeline for my professional redundancy. 'It says that within one to three years, there won't be a major impact. But after three years, AI will become a major force.' Wan Mo's predictions don't leave me full of hope for my next question. But in the spirit of xuanxue, I decide to try my luck again, and order another round. We take a brief break for Wan Mo to have a cigarette break and catch up with a friend who has wandered into the bar. His chipper demeanour makes me think that he is yet to discover that AI will take his job – or he's just made his peace with it. Eventually I muster up enough liquid courage to ask my second question. Wan Mo's stern demeanour sends a slight chill through my hands as I grasp the qiuqian box for the second time. Shake, shake, shake. Think, think, think. A single wooden stick falls out of the container. 'Will I get a pay rise?' I ask, tentatively. The answer comes unnervingly quickly. 'There's not much possibility at the moment. Although [the stick] is about transition … it shows there is no major change … There is some hope, but it's not immediate. You need to make some personal adjustments.' I ask what kind of personal adjustments I could make, hoping that she won't make me order another drink to find out. 'If you want a pay rise, xuanxue can only offer support,' she demurs. 'For example, the bracelet I'm wearing is for attracting wealth. It's made from natural materials … we'd recommend wearing something like this. It can help bring in some financial luck and may have a positive effect. But the most important thing is still communicating with the superiors.' I am not sure if she means my spiritual or editorial superiors. But with that my time is up. Wan Mo's friend says that everyone comes to Qie Le with the same kinds of questions: how to get rich, stay healthy, find love. I feel as if all I've discovered is how dim my chances are on the first question, and it's getting too late to ask the second and third. I slink off home to get some sleep before my early start the next day. I bet AI doesn't have to worry about feeling tired. Additional research by Lillian Yang

Dan Aykroyd: ‘I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls'
Dan Aykroyd: ‘I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls'

Yahoo

time24-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Dan Aykroyd: ‘I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls'

As a self-described spiritualist who – is there anything you don't believe in? Well, I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls. Like psychic vampires. Right? If you go through life, you'll either meet a psychic vampire every day or every year. You should avoid beings like that, that's a good rule for life. That's what I don't believe in, associating with them. I'm sure you've met some beings that draw the energy out of you if you give them 10 minutes. But after 10 minutes, you gotta run. I give everybody 10 minutes. Have you ever lived in a haunted house? Yeah, I believe so. Certain little things happened. I never saw a spirit. My friend Gary saw a spirit in the Hollywood Hills, North Hollywood, on Mama Cass's old estate. You know the great Mamas and the Papas? A great band. This was Mama Cass's house. Jimi Hendrix stayed there, as did John Lennon and Ringo Starr; Harry Nilsson owned it for a while. Donna and I bought that house in the 80s and lived there for many years, raised three beautiful daughters there. And sure enough, people would see a big, dark shape along the top stairway. I remember the housekeeper saying she heard the Stairmaster going when no one was there. Her name would be called, she felt touches on the shoulder. I remember vividly one night when Donna had some jewellery sitting there and the bracelets started to do this little whirlwind. Now, maybe that's the energy between us, who knows? But it might have been Mama Cass. What has been your most memorable interaction with a fan? I guess having Bill Clinton join the Blues Brothers to play saxophone? It was at the opening of the Mohegan Sun casino in Connecticut. That was a pretty spectacular night. Bill was a fan of the Blues Brothers so he agreed to play sax with us. I think we did I Saw Her Standing There, the Beatles tune. That was a beautiful interaction with a true fan of the music – and a two-term Democratic president! He had the full secret service escort, of course. Remember that movie [Guarding Tess] with Nicolas Cage and Shirley MacLaine, where he's the secret service agent assigned to her? Shirley is great. She's a great believer, of course, in, shall we say, the unexplained, the inexplicable otherworldly matters, the presence of alien beings. And then, of course, Nicolas Cage. I will watch anything he's in. He just warms my heart when he comes on screen. I loved him in that film. Such a great pairing. Related: Curtis Stone: 'My most cringeworthy run-in with a celebrity? Juliette Lewis, on the toilet' So yeah, Bill Clinton would get that title for life, absolutely. Jimmy Belushi and I rode Harleys right up to the stage and got off and played, then Bill joined us. That was pretty exciting. You spend every 1 July, which is both Canada Day and your birthday, performing some kind of civic duty in Canada. What is the plan this year? Sadly this year I will be travelling, but I have had the honour of doing things like starting a parade, or the best one was when I was sworn in as federal immigration judge, and I welcomed half a dozen immigrant families to Canada as they were getting their citizenship. This was in 2001. It was so great to see the hope in these people coming to Canada and ostensibly living a better life. So it's Judge Aykroyd now. I'd prefer that going forward. I was only a judge for two hours but I am going to say it for the best piece of advice you have ever received? 'Just listen.' So many times I'm talking over people because I love the sound of my own voice. I'm a blowhard and a gasbag. People who are smarter than me will say 'just listen' – and I'm trying to learn that. You converted John Belushi to blues music . I once read that you put on a particular record in a bar that kicked off his love for blues. Do you remember what the record was? Well, John was from Chicago, so he had been to blues clubs that I had never even heard of – he'd been to the Checkerboard, Wise Fools, Kingston Mines, Legends. He knew blues – but he was just a heavy metal fan. He loved Grand Funk Railroad and Cream – and that's great, because it's all from blues! Anyway, we were playing this record, Straight Up, by this Canadian band called the Downchild Blues Band. Do a search, everybody, and get some party music for the summer! So we were listening and he said, 'Who's this?' I said, 'Oh, this is a beautiful local blues band that loves the stuff,' and he said, 'Oh this is good. This is good.' I said, 'Well it's the blues, John, you're from Chicago!' But from that record we started to work on the act. We perfected it with Tom 'Bones' Malone, our arranger and horn player, and Paul Shaffer. We put together a super band that's unparalleled. Check out Briefcase Full of Blues and Going Back to Miami by the Blues Brothers. If you're driving, put on Blues Brothers and you'll have a beautiful drive. Jamie Lee Curtis called you the best screen kisser she's ever done a scene with. Care to comment? Well. That's an intimacy coach issue. Whenever I did have that kind of scene – and there were not many [laughs] – I was always conscious of making the other person comfortable. So that's what she's talking about, feeling comfortable and real in the scene, to actually be in the moment. And it wasn't hard to pretend to like kissing Jamie. Do you have a nemesis? I would say ignorant, well-armed people. I could walk out the door tonight and who knows? What a world, huh. What book, album or film do you always return to, and why? Well – the Bible. I'm a lapsed Catholic, OK? But hopefully somewhere in there there's some shred of Judeo-Christian value left. I'm trying to live on those fumes as much as I can. But the Bible has great stories, great quotes and wonderful wisdom from Christ, and in the end, it's the only book left. So I do turn to it. To whom much is given, much will be required – that's what Christ says and I certainly am trying to live that as I go on. As for film, I always return to The Day The Earth Stood Still, that spectacular movie with Michael Rennie and Patricia Neal about the saucer landing in Washington DC in the 1950s. What a great film – and it could really happen, that there's some more powerful interstellar beings with stronger weapons than us out there. If we don't smarten up here with all this nuclear talk and nuclear play, they're going to come down here and straighten us out. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could believe that? If you had to fight a famous person, who would it be, how would you fight them and who would win? I'd rather fight an animal than a human being. Let me go off on a tangent, maybe we can come to an answer. The ultimate answer to that, human or animal, is: I would flee in the other direction. How about a bear? I did a scene once with two bears, a black bear and a grizzly [in The Great Outdoors with John Candy]. We got on well! They were both much better actors than I was. Bart was the grizzly and the other one was called Uncle Joe. They decided there should only be one bear scene in the movie, so my scene with Uncle Joe was cut. We shot it at night – I had to sit next to the bear with my arm around it and its arm around me, and drink beer. He had his paw up and I was feeding him and we were both drunk. I kind of liked Uncle Joe. But I would flee from a real fight with a bear. Bart the grizzly was intimidating. One swipe of the paw, you know? That's what I loved about my career as an actor – I can turn to you today and say, 'I worked with that bear. That bear and I did a film together so many years ago … ' And Bart's son and grandson are also in the business because they need grizzlies in Hollywood still. Thank God! The UnBelievable With Dan Aykroyd airs on SBS Viceland on Mondays and is available to stream on SBS On Demand.

Dan Aykroyd: ‘I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls'
Dan Aykroyd: ‘I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls'

The Guardian

time23-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

Dan Aykroyd: ‘I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls'

As a self-described spiritualist who comes from a long line of spiritualists – is there anything you don't believe in? Well, I don't believe in associating with beings that have no souls. Like psychic vampires. Right? If you go through life, you'll either meet a psychic vampire every day or every year. You should avoid beings like that, that's a good rule for life. That's what I don't believe in, associating with them. I'm sure you've met some beings that draw the energy out of you if you give them 10 minutes. But after 10 minutes, you gotta run. I give everybody 10 minutes. Have you ever lived in a haunted house? Yeah, I believe so. Certain little things happened. I never saw a spirit. My friend Gary saw a spirit in the Hollywood Hills, North Hollywood, on Mama Cass's old estate. You know the great Mamas and the Papas? A great band. This was Mama Cass's house. Jimi Hendrix stayed there, as did John Lennon and Ringo Starr; Harry Nilsson owned it for a while. Donna and I bought that house in the 80s and lived there for many years, raised three beautiful daughters there. And sure enough, people would see a big, dark shape along the top stairway. I remember the housekeeper saying she heard the Stairmaster going when no one was there. Her name would be called, she felt touches on the shoulder. I remember vividly one night when Donna had some jewellery sitting there and the bracelets started to do this little whirlwind. Now, maybe that's the energy between us, who knows? But it might have been Mama Cass. What has been your most memorable interaction with a fan? I guess having Bill Clinton join the Blues Brothers to play saxophone? It was at the opening of the Mohegan Sun casino in Connecticut. That was a pretty spectacular night. Bill was a fan of the Blues Brothers so he agreed to play sax with us. I think we did I Saw Her Standing There, the Beatles tune. That was a beautiful interaction with a true fan of the music – and a two-term Democratic president! He had the full secret service escort, of course. Remember that movie [Guarding Tess] with Nicolas Cage and Shirley MacLaine, where he's the secret service agent assigned to her? Shirley is great. She's a great believer, of course, in, shall we say, the unexplained, the inexplicable other-worldly matters, the presence of alien beings. And then, of course, Nicolas Cage. I will watch anything he's in. He just warms my heart when he comes on screen. I loved him in that film. Such a great pairing. So yeah, Bill Clinton would get that title for life, absolutely. Jimmy Belushi and I rode Harleys right up to the stage and go off and played, then Bill joined us. That was pretty exciting. You spend every 1 July, which is both Canada Day and your birthday, performing some kind of civic duty in Canada. What is the plan this year? Sadly this year I will be travelling, but I have had the honour of doing things like starting a parade, or the best one was when I was sworn in as federal immigration judge, and I welcomed half a dozen immigrant families to Canada as they were getting their citizenship. This was in 2001. It was so great to see the hope in these people coming to Canada and ostensibly living a better life. So it's Judge Ackroyd now. I'd prefer that going forward. I was only a judge for two hours but I am going to say it for life. What's the best piece of advice you have ever received? Just listen. So many times I'm talking over people because I love the sound of my own voice. I'm a blowhard and a gas bag. People who are smarter than me will say 'Just listen' – and I'm trying to learn that. You converted John Belushi to blues music before you made The Blues Brothers. I once read that you put on a particular record in a bar that kicked off his love for blues. Do you remember what the record was? Well, John was from Chicago, so he had been to blues clubs that I had never even heard of – he'd been to the Checkerboard, Wise Fools, Kingston Mines, Legends. He knew blues – but he was just a heavy metal fan. He loved Grand Funk Railroad and Cream – and that's great, because it's all from blues! Anyway, we were playing this record, Straight Up, by this Canadian band called the Downchild Blues Band. Do a search, everybody, and get some party music for the summer! So we were listening and he said 'Who's this?' I said 'Oh, this is a beautiful local blues band that loves the stuff' and he said 'Oh this is good. This is good.' I said 'Well it's the blues, John, you're from Chicago!' But from that record we started to work on the act. We perfected it with Tom 'Bones' Malone, our arranger and horn player, and Paul Shaffer. We put together a super band that's unparalleled. Check out Briefcase Full of Blues and Going Back to Miami by the Blues Brothers. If you're driving, put on Blues Brothers and you'll have a beautiful drive. Jamie Lee Curtis called you the best screen kisser she's ever done a scene with. Care to comment? Well. That's an intimacy coach issue. Whenever I did have that kind of scene – and there were not many [laugh] – I was always conscious of making the other person comfortable. So that's what she's talking about, feeling comfortable and real in the scene, to actually be in the moment. And it wasn't hard to pretend to like kissing Jamie. Do you have a nemesis? I would say ignorant, well-armed people. I could walk out the door tonight and who knows? What a world, huh. What book, album or film do you always return to, and why? Well – the Bible. I'm a lapsed Catholic, OK? But hopefully somewhere in there there's some shred of Judeo-Christian value left. I'm trying to live on those fumes as much as I can. But the Bible has great stories, great quotes and wonderful wisdom from Christ, and in the end, it's the only book left. So I do turn to it. To whom much is given, much will be required – that's what Christ says and I certainly am trying to live that as I go on. As for film, I always return to The Day The Earth Stood Still, that spectacular movie with Michael Rennie and Patricia Neal about the saucer landing in Washington DC in the 1950s. What a great film – and it could really happen, that there's some more powerful interstellar beings with stronger weapons than us out there. If we don't smarten up here with all this nuclear talk and nuclear play, they're going to come down here and straighten us out. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could believe that? If you had to fight a famous person, who would it be, how would you fight them and who would win? I'd rather fight an animal than a human being. Let me go off on a tangent, maybe we can come to an answer. The ultimate answer to that, human or animal, is: I would flee in the other direction. How about a bear? I did a scene once with two bears, a black bear and a grizzly [in The Great Outdoors with John Candy]. We got on well! They were both much better actors than I was. Bart was the grizzly and the other one was called Uncle Joe. They decided there should only be one bear scene in the movie, so my scene with Uncle Joe was cut. We shot it at night – I had to sit next to the bear with my arm around it and its arm around me, and drink beer. He had his paw up and I was feeding him and we were both drunk. I kind of liked Uncle Joe. But I would flee from a real fight with a bear. Bart the grizzly was intimidating. One swipe of the paw, you know? That's what I loved about my career as an actor – I can turn to you today and say 'I worked with that bear. That bear and I did a film together so many years ago …' And Bart's son and grandson are also in the business because they need grizzlies in Hollywood still. Thank God! The UnBelievable With Dan Aykroyd airs on SBS Viceland on Mondays and is available to stream on SBS On Demand.

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