From the days when I studied Greek at school, I seem to remember that at the beginning of The History of the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides states that the true cause of the war was the growing power of Athens and the fear this instilled in Sparta. However, he also notes that there were two pretexts that sparked the conflict.
Similarly, the last few weeks have brought major changes with the way I use my computer (and other tech toys), and I can see that two pieces of software have sparked the change, but that the underlying cause has been an article published in The Guardian at the end of February on how to Leave big tech behind! This recommends European alternatives to US companies such as Amazon, Google, and Meta. So now, Proton has replaced Gmail, Vivaldi is my new browser, Ecosia my search engine, and Le Chat has become my AI platform of choice; besides gaining in data protection, or so I’m told, I actually like the alternatives more: they tend to by cleaner and simpler, and Le Chat does for free what I could do on the alternative platforms only for a fee.
More than a steep learning curve, all this has brought on creative chaos. As always, when work or life is disrupted in such situations, I take comfort in the work of Ilya Prigione. In simple terms, Prigogine’s theory of dissipative structures says that when a system is pushed far from its comfort zone, it doesn’t just fall apart – it can reorganise itself into a new, more complex order. In other words, a bit of chaos and “wasted” energy can be exactly what a system needs to reinvent itself.
And after such a highfalutin post, next time I’ll come back down to earth and reveal the two pieces of software that are making all the difference.

Twice in my teens I had the experience of hearing music – vinyl in those days – which opened doors into new sonic worlds. Now, half a century later, it has just happened for the third time.
The first time this happened I must have been about 14, and I had been invited with a bunch of much older boys up to the lab assistant’s flat, where we packed into a room of joss-sticks, psychedelic posters and dim orange light bulbs to listen to Tales of a Topographic Ocean. And while I don’t think Yes has ever been one of my favourite bands, that experience opened up a whole new and utterly magical musical experience.
Then a few years later, when I was in the sixth form, we were invited to a tutorial with our history teacher, Brian Jenkins, and as we walked into his living room Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique was playing on the stereo. I was enraptured by the sound the pict-aural march to the scaffold, the clanging insistence of Dies Irae theme, and more mesmerised still when he told us the story of this piece of music: how this unknown, and thoroughly unprepossessing (hideously ugly might be a less kind but more accurate description) wannabe composer from the French provinces found himself at the theatre in Paris and fell in love with the Irish actress Harriet Smithson—and wrote the Symphonie Fantastique to impress her. It worked, but not immediately. Smithson ignored Berlioz’s advances for years, only realizing the symphony was about her in 1832, after attending a performance of its sequel, Lélio. They were married on October 3, 1833, at the British Embassy in Paris, with Franz Liszt as a witness. Their union was stormy and unhappy from the start, and they formally separated in 1844; but after she died Hector Berlioz wrote his other great masterwork in her honour, his Te Deum Mass.
Ones teens are the time to be blown away by works of art, and the music we come to love in those years tends to remain the soundtrack of our lives. But now, it has just happened again: not just discovering new music, but hearing something that opens up a whole new terrain of musical possibility. Straight off, I have to admit that the title of this new discovery will not inspire many of you to reach for your streaming button on your devices: ‘The Ordinary of the Mass’. I also need to confess that over the decades I have acquired a taste for both early English music and sacred music, and the composer John Dunstable ticks both boxes. But what I found myself listening to was not at all what I was expecting, because what I hadn’t noticed was the subtitle: Noël Akchoté (guitar). And it is Noël Akchoté who is the new musical epiphany.
A little bit of online research and I’ve come across the following description of his work:

“Noël Akchoté (b. 1968, Paris) is one of the most restlessly inquisitive guitarists to emerge from the European experimental and improvised music scenes. Starting out young on the Paris jazz circuit, he moved quickly from conventional guitar roles into a personal, often radical exploration of sound, harmony and form. His work sits at a crossroads where free improvisation, early music, pop, noise and studio craft constantly collide.
At the heart of Akchoté’s practice is the guitar itself: close‑miked, fallible, physical. On solo recordings such as ‘Adult Guitar’, he treats the instrument less as a vehicle for virtuoso display and more as a site of investigation. Notes splinter into noises, chords are left hanging, silences feel charged. What emerges is not minimalism in the strict sense, but a kind of stripped‑back intensity where every gesture counts.
A distinctive thread in his catalogue is his long‑running engagement with other people’s music. Akchoté has devoted entire albums to composers such as Carlo Gesualdo, John Dowland, Jean‑Philippe Rameau and Luciano Berio, as well as to Jewish liturgical songs and even the pop of Kylie Minogue. Rather than offering respectful “covers,” he reimagines this material, compressing complex polyphony or glossy chart hits into fragile, sometimes fractured guitar monologues. The result is both homage and critique: an exploration of how music survives translation across centuries, genres and technologies.”

However, none of this is a substitute for listening to his music, which I am only just beginning to discover for myself. Besides the John Dunstable album, can I recommend:
"Adult Guitar"
"So Lucky" (Kylie Minogue songs)
"Gesualdo"
"Sonny II"

I’ve made no new posts now for over a week. The reason is that I have had flu. However, like many minor setbacks of this kind, even a week of temperatures, coughs, and splutters has brought its gifts. In particular, on Sunday morning, I came across a mention of a book written in the early 1960s by the Anglican Bishop John V. Taylor, best known for his work on the Holy Spirit, The Go-Between God. The mention was of another book, The Primal Vision, which which came out of his time as a missionary in Africa. It is a groundbreaking exploration of the world view common to the peoples of sub-Saharan Africa. And I found it both an enticing and fascinating read.
For anyone intersted, here is a 500-word summary of John V. Taylor’s The Primal Vision:

The Primal Vision: Christian Presence Amid African Religion by John V. Taylor is widely regarded as one of the most important books ever published on the subject of African Christianity. Written in a sympathetic and warmly empathetic style, Taylor shares his encounters with diverse African communities and reflects theologically on the conversations he had with men, women, and children in a wide variety of circumstances.
At its core, The Primal Vision challenges traditional missionary approaches. Taylor argues that missionaries should not impose their own cultural and theological frameworks on African societies. Instead, he advocates for a posture of listening and learning from indigenous cultures, emphasizing the importance of appreciating the missionary’s status as a guest. This perspective points toward a revisionist understanding of Christian mission, one that values mutual respect and cultural exchange over domination or assimilation.
Taylor’s work is rooted in his extensive experience as General Secretary of the Church Missionary Society (1963–74) and later as Bishop of Winchester (1975–85). His deep engagement with African religious thought and practice allows him to highlight the richness of African spirituality, which often perceives the world as deeply interconnected and alive, even in what Western thought might consider inanimate. This “primal vision” sees reality as infused with spiritual significance, a perspective that Taylor believes can enrich and challenge Western Christian traditions.
The book is not merely an anthropological study; it is a theological reflection. Taylor explores how African religious concepts—such as the sacredness of community, the presence of ancestors, and the interconnectedness of all things—can inform and transform Christian mission. He suggests that African Christianity is not a lesser or syncretistic form of the faith but a vibrant expression that can offer fresh insights to the global church.
Taylor’s approach is revolutionary for its time. He rejects the colonial mindset that often accompanied missionary work, advocating instead for a humility that recognizes the validity and value of African religious experience. His vision is one of dialogue and mutual transformation, where both missionary and community are changed through their encounter.
In summary, The Primal Vision is a call to reimagine Christian mission as a two-way street: a process of giving and receiving, learning and teaching. Taylor’s work remains influential, inspiring generations of theologians, missionaries, and scholars to approach cross-cultural ministry with openness, respect, and a willingness to be transformed by the “primal vision” of those they seek to serve.

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Indeed, it was especially interesting to me, as around 80% of the congregation of Holy Ghost Church in Genoa are African.
I followed up my initial reading by asking AI for an update on Bishop Taylor’s book in the form of suggestions for more contemporary titles on a similar theme and for advice on ministering to such a congregation. The upshot was that I now have a study programme for the next six months. This centres around the following four titles:
Emmanuel Lartey – Pastoral Theology in an Intercultural World
Ogbu U. Kalu – African Pentecostalism: An Introduction
Kwame Bediako – Christianity in Africa: The Renewal of a Non‑Western Religion
Israel Olofinjana (ed.) – African Voices: Towards African British Theologies
Hats off to AI!