Latest news with #Smiths'
Business Times
6 days ago
- Business
- Business Times
Pension drawdown: it's all spend, spend, spend (advisedly)
'I'M GOING to spend, spend, spend!' was Viv Nicholson's response to her husband's big 1961 win on the football pools, a popular flutter at the time. She wound up penniless, becoming a symbol of vulnerable profligacy thanks to a play, a musical and her image on the cover of the Smiths' hit single Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now. Most of us are afraid of living beyond our means. The anxiety is acute in relation to retirement. Suppose I raid my defined contribution fund too heavily via drawdown? What if my investments disappoint? Questions like these come into sharper focus as you approach retirement. I am at that stage myself. The natural follow-on question is: 'How should I think about – and plan – retirement spending?' The first step is to assess how justifiable our anxieties are. Only half of UK retirees on moderate incomes in the 65-75 year age bracket are confident that their private pension will last them for life, according to a recent survey by Aviva and Age UK. Clearly, many older people get by on very little. But about 60 per cent of retirees surveyed separately by NMG Consulting for Invesco said they lived comfortably within their means, often with plenty to spare. The going tends to get easier the older we become. Back in the day, financial advisers referred to the graph plot of pensioner spending as a 'retirement smile'. Expenditure was high for younger pensioners, dipped in mid-retirement and rose again for older seniors. BT in your inbox Start and end each day with the latest news stories and analyses delivered straight to your inbox. Sign Up Sign Up Among homeowners, the pattern has changed. Their spending generally diminishes with age. This is nicely illustrated by research from the University of Bath. The real expenditure of owner-occupiers was around a third lower when they were 85 or older, compared with spring chickens in their mid to late-60s. Encouragingly, retired homeowners of any age defined their largest single spending stream as 'luxuries'. Life is regrettably tougher for social tenants. But for many of us, 'the little money comin' worked out well', as Chuck Berry put it. Diminishing spending contrasts with incomes that are generally flat after lump sum tax-free cash withdrawals. That is the dispensation for most defined benefit pensioners. Defined contribution savers can, if they want, use drawdown to align income with likely spending: higher to begin with and lower later on. If you have a mix of retirement plans, you could opt to run down defined contribution pots in your early-to-mid anecdotage and rely on defined benefits thereafter. You might then avoid becoming a hefty net saver in later life, as some retirees do. This seems rather pointless, particularly since the government decided to include pension pots in the calculation of inheritance tax. 'Financial advisers often try to encourage clients to spend more,' says Miba Stierman of NMG Consulting. Resistance is high, however. Retirees routinely cite potential 'care costs' as a reason for thrift. However, just 2.5 per cent of the retired population live in care homes, an expensive form of assistance with daily life. In my view, ruinous care bills are a relatively low risk for better-off retirees though as Stierman remarks: 'These costs are frequently a placeholder in our minds for everything that might go wrong – a legitimate way of phrasing broader fears.' Financial planning can dispel some uncertainties, including the optimal size for a rainy-day reserve. I would advocate taking professional advice, even if you are a financial native. You can do some homework of your own too. Steve Webb of consultancy LCP suggests a simple exercise to quantify likely post-retirement spending: 'Look at your credit card bill and think what you would still be paying, what expenses would drop off and what might replace them.' In my household, we define spending according to the template set by company accounting: 'operating expenditure' (utility and grocery bills, for instance); 'non-recurring costs' (extravagances, some of which inevitably recur) and 'capex' (repairs to my 1970s Scottish teeth, for example). Online calculators will give you a sense of how much money you can take out of drawdown products until the cupboard is bare. According to one of these, a fund of £500,000 (S$865,000) returning 5 per cent would supply you with a pension of £3,000 per month for 20 years. But such calculations are pretty generic. A good adviser should be able to model your prospective income – and the spending it will finance – to reflect more accurately your assets and risk appetite. Review your progress regularly and seek further advice when needed. I am sticking all my numbers on a spreadsheet for this purpose. Fellow dataholics will, I know, chuckle at this and purr: 'A spreadsheet you say? Mmm! I like the sound of that!' LCP's Webb warns against overindulgence in financial modelling: 'Most people reach retirement as part of a couple. But one of you will be going first. You could be bequeathing a complex strategy and set of financial products to someone who does not wish to engage with them.' Even so, I like to imagine an alternative reality in which Viv Nicholson, a picture of concentration beneath her beehive hair-do, bashed away on a mechanical calculator to project orderly decumulation of that pools win. The Smiths' subsequent single Financial Planning Makes You A Happier Person would have flopped, returning singer Morrissey to obscurity and limiting the audience for his misguided opinions. Both outcomes would, I believe, have left the world a better place. FINANCIAL TIMES
Hindustan Times
24-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Did Morrissey make an excuse to cancel Sweden concert? Fumed netizens ask ‘Is this guy for real?'
Morrissey called off a concert in Stockholm, Sweden, over the weekend, citing fatigue after touring six countries in seven days. Following the cancellation, he been accused of 'making excuses'. Morrissey has terminated or suspended over 100 gigs since 2010.(AP) In a social media message, the artist attributed the situation on a 'lack of financial support from imaginary record labels.' 'We are travel-weary beyond belief. We can barely see. We pray to God that someone, somewhere can help us reach Sweden, Norway, Finland, Iceland, Denmark … where we have thousands upon thousands of friends, yet absolutely zero music industry support. No label will release our music, no radio will play our music … and yet our ticket sales are sensational. What does this tell us about the state of Art in 2025?' Morrissey added. The vocalist began his career as the Smiths' frontman in the 1980s and later established a prosperous solo career. Morrissey has, however, also faced criticism over the years for his divisive opinions, particularly his remarks against immigration in the UK. Also Read: McDonald's to remain shut down in US amid nationwide boycott? Know who is behind it and how long it will last Morrissey has cancelled over 100 gigs since 2010 Morrissey hasn't put out a new album since I Am Not a Dog on a Chain in 2020, and he has frequently bemoaned his difficulties in finding a label to launch Bonfire of Teenagers, the album's follow-up. Morrissey had a reputation of an erratic live performer even before his troubles with record labels. He has terminated or suspended over 100 gigs since 2010. He is now scheduled to return to the stage on June 27 in Berlin. In September, a North American tour will begin, which will include several make-up dates for performances that were postponed earlier this year. Morrissey's decision to cancel Stockholm show fumes fans While Morrissey is presently touring the UK and Europe, his decision to cancel his gig in Stockholm has angered many. 'SCANDINAVIA! The pain at not reaching Stockholm this week is horrific for the band and crew. I know it's impossible for people to understand, but we dream of Stockholm, Reykjavik, Trondheim, Helsinki, Aarhus … but there is no financial support from imaginary record labels to get us to such places,' he wrote on Instagram with a picture of himself on stage. Also Read: Tyler Wall died due to Mitragynine toxicity? MrBeast's post goes viral, sparking speculations about his cause of death Reacting to his post, one fan wrote: 'MORRISSEY CANCELLED….?!?!?!?! I did NOT see that coming!' 'It's called touring. Love the music, but seriously? 😂' a second user said. 'Why schedule so many dates without proper funding?? Just say you don't have the money rather than making excuses,' another chimed in. 'Is this guy for real?' one more reacted. Meanwhile, ticketholders were informed: 'Due to exhaustion among the band and crew, the Morrissey headline engagement at Hovet has been cancelled. Refunds will be available at the point of purchase.'
Economic Times
22-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Economic Times
Ask the Smiths
Shyness, social awkwardness and the need to connect lie at the heart of the Smiths' 1986 nugget, Ask. Frontman Morrissey tells (doesn't ask) us, in half-confession, half-rebuke, 'Shyness is nice,/ and shyness can stop you/ from doing all the things in life you'd like to.'Beneath Johnny Marr's jangly, breezy guitar riff lies Morrissey's signature cocktail of neurosis, wit and wistful longing. The ironic beauty of Ask stems from this friction: its lyrics plead for boldness, yet they unfold in the voice of someone hopelessly bear-trapped in his own hesitations. Phrases like 'If there's something you'd like to try/ Ask me, I won't say no/ How could I?' flutter between invitation and retreat, echoing the awkward charm of a heart that wants connection, but fears disruption. Marr provides the perfect camouflage in a buoyant tempo and a touch of pop whimsy, rendering emotional vulnerability oddly danceable. And who can resist its ultimate, frantic decree: 'Ask me, ask me, ask me/ Because if it's not love/ Then it's the bomb, the bomb, the bomb/ The bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb/ Will bring us together.' When affection fails, it's something drastic that unites both persons and people. Elevate your knowledge and leadership skills at a cost cheaper than your daily tea. Looking for quick buck in unlisted shares? Better think twice! Small finance banks struggle with perception. Will numbers turn the tide? Aadit Palicha on Zepto dark store raid, dark patterns, and IPO China rare earths blockade: Will electric vehicles assembly lines fall silent? Flames below deck: The silent threat lurking in cargo holds Is India ready to hit the aspirational 8% growth mark? For medium- to long-term investors with moderate risk appetite: 6 large-cap stocks with an upside potential of up to 40% Sin goods, but not sin stocks from a long-term perspective: 6 stocks from liquor industry with an upside potential of up to 34%
The Guardian
16-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Salty Brine review – daring diva mashup with hella pizzazz
On his last London visit, Salty Brine mashed up the Smiths' album The Queen Is Dead, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and episodes from his own life into a pretty extraordinary show. But not a unique one – Brine has made 21 such confections as part of his Living Record Collection project, which now brings These Are the Contents of My Head (The Annie Lennox Show) to Soho. If I found this one less remarkable an achievement, the feeling was offset by admiration that Brine's Smiths show was clearly no fluke; that he's created a striking and confident collage-cabaret genre all of his own. Maybe that last one worked so well because Frankenstein described the form as well as the content. The fit is less neat here, as our drag-queen host splices Annie Lennox's album Diva, a recording of Judy Garland at Carnegie Hall, Kate Chopin's feminist novel The Awakening and (I'm almost done …) tales from his own mother's failed marriage. In this telling, both the novel's heroine and Brine's mum are women struggling to free themselves from marriage and societal convention. Tripping in and out of song, family anecdote and scenes from Chopin's southern gothic, with additional characters played by scene-stealing pianist Ben Langhorst, Brine's gumbo doesn't stint on rich ingredients. The results can feel overcooked, the individual flavours hard to distinguish. In a show that trucks exclusively in big emotion, Brine's mother's experience (and his own, navigating his parents' divorce and coming out) is rendered every bit as melodramatic as Edna Pontellier's. The songs of Lennox and Garland sometimes illuminate those stories, and sometimes don't. But they're always delivered with limpid loveliness by our host, or with hella pizzazz should the moment require. That roof-raising voice of his, not to mention the sexual frankness, as Brine drapes himself over this audience member or that, may not be the perfect match for Chopin's tale of clipped and frustrated womanhood. But why quibble, when it's easier to be swept along by the bravura of the enterprise, a lush hymn to dreams of freedom and a feat of idiosyncratic connection-making to put Adam Curtis in the shade. Salty Brine: These Are The Contents of My Head (The Annie Lennox Show) is at Soho theatre, London, until 26 April
The Guardian
29-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Maybe I'm Amazed by John Harris review – a father and his autistic son bond through music
One of my favourite books growing up was my dad's copy of The Beatles Illustrated Lyrics. I spent hours flicking through images of an eyeless, trombone-mouthed golden man swallowing naked bodies, and a full-page, black-and-white comic strip by legendary psychedelic artist Rick Griffin. It didn't matter that I hadn't yet listened to most of the songs – the surreal visual riffs felt like dispatches from an undiscovered country. Later, the Beatles became my favourite band. I chain-listened to the albums, read endless books, watched the movies and recited Beatles' lore to anyone within earshot. 'Oh dear,' said my mum one morning, as I reeled off an account of how a 40-piece orchestra improvised the rising crescendo in A Day in the Life, 'you've become a Beatles bore.' Maybe I'm Amazed opens with John Harris's 15-year-old son, James, ecstatically absorbed in a live performance by Paul McCartney, 'so held in the moment that he is almost in an altered state'. Harris then loops back to before James's birth, and tells the story of his son's arrival, his preschool diagnosis of autism, and how his differences manifest as he grows up. James loves music – the Beatles chief among a rich buffet of bands and tracks he listens to, over and over – and so Harris divides the book into 10 chapters named after songs, each with a particular resonance. Harris writes about music with wit, clarity and a welcome lack of pretension. One chapter takes its cue from Funkadelic's 'weird … incongruous' track Fish, Chips and Sweat – about a carnal encounter that takes as its backdrop 'the least sexy meal imaginable'. Another from Nick Drake's Northern Sky, a song whose lyrics evoke 'a sudden euphoria that leaves you silent, and still'. Harris even bravely attempts a rehabilitation of Baker Street, 'a masterclass in the arts of arrangement and production', so hackneyed from familiarity we might miss the complicated stories implied by its 'sparse, carefully chosen words'. Threaded throughout this are he and his wife Ginny's struggles and anxieties around parenthood, and James's emerging strengths and challenges. He demonstrates absolute pitch – the ability to instantly identify individual notes – and can name the keys of random songs played to him on Spotify. 'Imagine having as instinctive and vivid a connection with music as this,' muses Harris. 'From time to time, James speaks to me using songs,' he writes, recounting a moment when, after refusing to go to school, James commands Alexa to play the Smiths' The Headmaster Ritual, with its lyrics 'Give up education as a bad mistake'. As a parent, I recognise the all‑consuming worry described here. Harris and his wife quickly find that support for children with special educational needs is callously absent – they spend their savings paying for early, intensive therapy for James, and preparing the legal case for the support he'll need in school (local authorities routinely force parents to pursue them through the courts for the care they are legally obliged to offer, calculating that most will lack the resources to do so). But, as an autistic person, I sometimes found it hard reading about behaviours and tendencies I've exhibited all my life viewed through the lens of neurotypicality. Harris is left 'flummoxed and sad' when, on a trip to Chester zoo, James ignores the penguins and plays with the wood chips covering the path, picking them up and dropping them. 'I get the sense if he was left to his own devices, he might repeat the cycle indefinitely.' James is absorbed by the wrong thing – wood chips' splendid tactile diversity, and the miracle of gravity. I don't wish to punish Harris's honesty. Like all parents, his journey involves plenty of learning on the job. He writes powerfully about 'almost Victorian levels of cruelty' inflicted on autistic people in care, and how, through his and James's shared love of music, his initial doomy grief gives way to a constellation of admiration, fear, humour, awe and, of course, love. I wept several times, and the book wouldn't have that power without the author's willingness to be real and vulnerable. As he observes, autistic traits appear throughout humankind. You might say we're like everyone else – only more so. Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Maybe I'm Amazed: A Story of Love and Connection in Ten Songs by John Harris is published by John Murray (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.
