The Big Mood: close but no cig­ar (via Joss Stone)

One week, one mood: Moya Lothian-Mclean’s deep-dive into the feel of the week.

A par­tic­u­lar­ly frus­trat­ing ele­ment about the Eng­lish nation­al char­ac­ter: we sim­ply can’t seem to fin­ish. No mat­ter how admirable the effort (see two suc­ces­sive nation­al teams make it to the semi-finals of the World Cup before being undu­ly defeat­ed) or how close the prize (Michael, Love Island, £50k dis­si­pat­ing like Spi­der­man at the end of Avengers: Infin­i­ty War), the ulti­mate goal seems to always elude us. 

Joss Stone became the unlike­ly light­ning rod for 1000 years of Eng­lish anti-cli­max this week when she was indeco­rous­ly depart­ed from Iran, which was sup­posed to be the final stop on a total world tour’ that’s tak­en her five years and 200 coun­tries to (almost) complete.

Not all of you will have been rav­en­ous­ly fol­low­ing the career of Jools Hol­lands’ favourite lounge singer so a quick update: while the rest of us have been mis­er­ably squat­ting over the dump­ster fire of UK pol­i­tics, Stone has been trot­ting the globe in an attempt to bring love­li­ness through the form of music.” Unfor­tu­nate­ly, the longest gap year in his­to­ry has been cut short by the author­i­ties in Iran who didn’t believe Stone’s claim that she wouldn’t be play­ing a pub­lic show (solo con­certs by women are banned in the country). 

Against all the odds she is, arguably, the most annoy­ing British export oth­er than James Cor­den – I feel for Joss Stone. Sure, jaunt­ing around the world to trill Nat King Cole cov­ers won’t lead to world peace but she wasn’t harm­ing any­one, per se (apart from the cli­mate because like, car­bon foot­print). Still, her depor­ta­tion was beyond her con­trol; the prob­lem didn’t lie in a lack of doc­u­ments but rather the curi­ous­ly Eng­lish curse of per­pet­u­al­ly falling at the final hurdle.

At this point we need to accept our fate — much like that prop­er­ty man­ag­er I briefly dat­ed last sum­mer, Eng­land is just unable to fin­ish. From now on it’s the attempt that counts, the tak­ing part that mat­ters. For­get tak­ing home any sil­ver­ware or fin­ish­ing your half-decade world tour with a tri­umphant final non-gig in Iran. The mias­ma of run­ner-up sur­rounds us.

Fare thee well Joss Stone. Jools Hol­land is waiting.


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