Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 26, 2026

Meconium

Meconium (pronounced mi-koh-nee-uhm)

(1) In medicine, the first fecal excretion of a newborn child, composed chiefly of bile, mucus, and epithelial cells; it accumulates in the fetal intestines, manifesting as dark green mucoid material.

(2) In zoology, a dark green mass, the contents of the fetal intestines during the later stages of mammalian gestation, that forms the first feces of the newborn

(3) In entomology, the fecal mass released at pupation by the larvae of some insects.

(4) The milky sap of the unripe seed pods of the opium poppy; crude opium, sometimes called opium juice.

(5) Slang for opium (obsolete).

1595–1605: From the New Latin, from Classical Latin mēcōnium (opium; excrement of a newborn child), from the Ancient Greek μηκώνιον (mēknion) (poppy-juice; opium”), from μήκων (mkōn) (poppy).  The Ancient Greek mēkōnion & mēkōn may be related to the Old Church Slavonic maku & the German Mohn and many etymologists support this although it’s not impossible both are of pre-Greek origin, one noting the consensus among botanists that the opium poppy is of Mediterranean origin and the word may later have entered the primitive lndo-European at a later date.  The fecal discharge was so called by classical physicians for its resemblance to the pappy sap, the notion later adopted by entomologists and zoologists to describe the same phenomenon respectively in some insects and mammals.  In chemistry, meconin is an anhydride of meconinic acid (found in opium).  The adjective meconic was first documented in the sense of “pertaining to or derived from the poppy” in 1818 in reference to an acid obtained from opium, and the French meconine exists in the literature as an alternative to the English form meconin.  However, it’s noted meconic may long have been in oral use among physicians.  In Hellenic medicine, mēkōnion came to be used to describe an infant's first excrement because of similarity in colour to the sap of the opium poppy (mēkōn) that had long been so-named.  In human gestation (and of mammals generally & even some insects), a little of the substance called meconium collects lower in the intestines and is discharged at birth.  Meconium is a noun and meconic & meconial are adjectives and (perhaps thankfully), it seems there's no adverb; the noun plural is meconiums.

One charming linguistic coincidence is that the anagram of meconium (baby shit) is encomium, meaning, inter alia, “a formal speech delivering praise”, the connection between the two not unfamiliar to those who have heard many such insincere orations.  Economium was from the Latin encōmium (praise, eulogy), from the Ancient Greek γκώμιον (enkmion) (laudatory ode, praise), from γκώμιος (enkmios) (of or pertaining to the victor), from κμος (kômos), (festival, revel, ode).  One obstetrician nominated the Ferrari paint color Verde Medio Nijinsky (medium green Nijinsky (Italver)) as a fine way to illustrate to medical students the shade of green a healthy infant’s meconium should display.  A Ferrari so finished will be more pleasing than a photograph (and certainly a sample) of the real thing.

Lester Piggott in green, red & yellow silks, aboard Nijinsky, 1970.

The Ferrari factory named Verde Medio Nijinsky after Nijinsky (Nijinsky II, 1967–1992, by Northern Dancer out of Flaming Page), a Canadian-bred, Irish-trained thoroughbred.  In 1970, trained by Vincent O'Brien (1917-2009) and ridden by Lester Piggott (1935–2022), he was the twelfth winner of the English Triple Crown (run since 1853 and comprising (1) the 2,000 Guineas Stakes (run over 1 mile (1.6 km) at Newmarket, (2) the Derby (1 mile, 4 furlongs & 10 yards (2,423 m) at Epsom & the St Leger Stakes (1 mile, 6 furlongs & 132 yards (2,937 m) at Town Moor)).  No horse has since won the English Triple Crown and Aidan O'Brien (b 1969), who in 1996 took over Vincent O'Brien’s Ballydoyle stables, was not related to his predecessor.  The link between horse and factory paint chart was in the colors of the silks worn by the jockey; Piggott’s shade of green chosen for Verde Medio Nijinsky.  Ferrari during the 1960s offered almost thirty colors named after thoroughbreds, a few of the more lyrical being Bianco Tetratema (1.441.110), Grigio Ortello (2.443.813), Blu Caracalla (2.666.901), Blu Turchese Molvedo (2.443.632) & Verde Sea-Bird (2.665.902).

Major Count Francesco Baracca with his SPAD S-XIII (left), the prancing horse on the fuselage based of that on his family’s coat of arms (right).

The link between horses and the Cavallino Rampante ((little) prancing horse) escutcheon chosen by Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) for both the Scuderia Ferrari team and later the cars he would build lies in a meeting il Commendatore had with the mother of Major Count Francesco Baracca (1888–1918), Italy's top fighter ace of World War I (1914-1918).  The count had emblazoned on the side of his aircraft a horse rearing on its rear hooves, a stylized variation of that which appeared on his family’s coat of arms and in Italian heraldry the prancing horse was of some significance, dating from 1692 when it appeared on the standard of Victor Amadeus II (1666–1732; Duke of Savoy 1675-1730 & King of Piedmont-Sardinia 1720-1730) of Savoy’s Royal Piedmont cavalry regiment.  The horse on the fuselage originally was red, the black version appearing on one of the count’s surviving fighters following his death in aerial combat.  A myth later arose Rolls-Royce had followed the precedent, switching the lettering on their radiator emblem from red to black to mark the death in 1933 of Sir Henry Royce (1863-1933) but although usually red, Rolls-Royce often had used black and other colors; the change in 1933 was aesthetic rather than romantic, the feeling that a dark hue would better suit the colors owners tended to choose for the coach-work and Sir Henry had endorsed the decision well before his death.  It was mere coincidence he died the same year as the change.

Alfa Romeo 8C Monza, Spa Francorchamps, Belgium, 1932.

Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) and Giulio Ramponi (1902–1986) in June 1923 won the first Grand Prix at the Savio Circuit in Ravenna, driving an Alfa Romeo RL-Targa Florio.  As part of the ceremony following the race, Count Enrco Baracca (1855-1936), father of the aviator, "entrusted" Ferrari with the image of the prancing horse to carry on the memory of his late son, later introducing him to the pilot’s mother, Countess Paolina Baracca.  It was the countess who suggested adding the symbol to his cars, assuring him it would bring good luck.  Alfa-Romeo’s corporate policies prevented an immediate use of the prancing horse but, in 1929, Enzo Ferrari created Auto Avio Costruzioni (later to become Scuderia Ferrari) as a separate racing team although one still affiliated with Alfa Romeo and permission finally was received for the symbol to adorn the cars.  On that very day in 1932, fielding a pair of Alfa-Romeo 8C Monzas at Belgium’s Spa Francorchamps, the scuderia was again victorious, vindicating the faith the countess had shown and the prancing horse continued to be displayed until 1939 when Ferrari began his own car-making operation.  Squabbles and the war intervened but in 1947, Ferrari displayed the 125S (1.5 litre (91 cubic inch) Colombo V12, thus 125 cm3 per cylinder, the origin of the factory’s original convention for model names) with the equine logo, although subtly modified, the tail now upturned (al la the Baracca coat of arms) the beast more sinuous and the background the canary yellow of Modena where il Commendatore had based his operation.  The prancing horse has adorned every Ferrari since.

1972 Ferrari 365 GTC/4 (left) in Verde Medio Nijinsky over beige leather (left) and Ferrari 365 GTB/4 Coupé (right) in Rosso Corsa (Racing Red) over tan leather (right).

Although one of the minor classics of the era, the 365 GTC/4 lives still in the shadow of the illustrious 365 GTB/4 with which, mechanically, it shares much.  The GTB/4 picked up the nickname “Daytona”, an opportunistic association given 1-2-3 finish in the 1967 24 Hours of Daytona involved three entirely different Ferraris while the GTC/4 enjoyed only the less complementary recognition of being labeled by some il gobbone (the hunchback) or quello alla banana (the banana one).  It was an unfair slight and under the anyway elegant skin the GTC/4 shared much with & GTB/4, the engine of the former differing mainly in lacking the dry-sump lubrication and the use of six twin-choke side-draft Weber carburetors rather than the down-drafts, this permitting a lower hood (bonnet) line.  Revisions to the cylinder heads allowed the GTC/4's V12 to be tuned to deliver torque across a broader range rather than the focus on top-end power that made the GTB/4 so intoxicating.  One quirk in the specification of the Daytona was, unusually for a front-engined car, it used a rear-mounted transaxle to provide optimal weight distribution, reflecting the quest for as close to perfect a weight-distribution as was possible with the front-engine configuration. 

Runner-up & winner, 2015 Miss Universe Contest.  Ariadna María Gutiérrez Arévalo (b 1993), Miss Colombia 2014 & first runner-up (left) and Pia Alonzo Wurtzbach (b 1989), Miss Philippines 2015 & Miss Universe 2015 (right).  

Criticizing the GTC/4 because it doesn’t quite have the visceral appeal of the GTB/4 seems rather like casually dismissing the model who managed only to be runner-up to Miss Universe.  The two cars anyway, despite sharing a platform with the same wheelbase and track, were intended for different purposes, the GTB/4 a high performance road car able, with relatively few modifications, to be competitive in racing whereas the GTC/4 was a grand tourer, even offering occasional rear seating for two (short or uncomplaining) people.  One footnote in the history of the marque is the GTC/4 was the last Ferrari offered with the lovely Borrani triple-laced wire wheels; some GTB/4s had them fitted by the factory and a few more were added by dealers but the factory advised that with increasing weight, tyres with much superior grip and higher speeds, they were, which subject to extreme loadings, no longer strong enough and the cast aluminum units should be fitted for use in environments without speed restrictions such as race tracks or certain de-restricted public roads (then seen mostly in the Middle East, the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990), Montana & Nevada in the US and Australia's Northern Territory & outback NSW (New South Wales)).  A Ferrari in Verde Medio Nijinsky is a rarity but does illustrate how well colors other than the dominant red can suit the lines; a Ferrari in white or navy blue can be a revelation.

Verde Medio Nijinsky is a neglected color: 1972 Ferrari 365 GTC/4 (left), a matching Lindsay Lohan (centre), rendered with generative AI (artificial intelligence) as “The Incredible Hulk” by Stable Diffusion (centre) and 1974 Dino 246 GTS (right); Ferrari finished only three Dino 246s in Verde Medio Nijinsky and it's one of those colors greatly affected by the light in which it stands, something photographers must account for although modern digital post-production techniques have now made possible the emulate the outdoors inside and vice versa.

Whatever color she wore, Cinderella was a hard act to follow.  As a design, the still much-neglected GTC/4 really should be compared with the other big 2+2 coupés of the era (exotic and otherwise) rather than the Daytona; whatever the extent of the mechanical similarity, the GTB/4 was a thing of a certain time and place that both allowed and dictated something more uncompromising in what proved an "end-of-an-era" moment.  Still stunning the GTB/4 was the evolutionary apex of its species; it can't be improved upon but the GTC/4 was no ugly sister and when contemplating quello alla banana, one might reflect on the sexiness of the fruit.  The Daytona’s shark-like lines and extreme nature have such an allure it’s the front-engined V12 Ferrari of the era collectors have always sought; despite between 1968-1973 production running to 1406 (1284 coupés & 122 Spyders (roadsters), it typically now sells for several times the price of a 364 GTC/4 in equivalent condition, 505 of which left the line between 1971-1972.  The market is neither right nor wrong, the market is the market and the customer is always right.

Cover of Candy-O (1979) by The Cars (left) and the photograph on which the cover-art was based (right).

Years after production ended, the 365 GTC/4 did earn an unusual place in the history of pop culture when a line-art rendering of one appeared on the cover of Candy-O, the second album by US rock band The Cars (formed 1976).  The artwork was created by Peruvian-American painter of pin-ups Alberto Vargas (1896–1982) who, as well as being acknowledged as the definitive exponent of what came to be called “cheesecake girls”, was between 1956-1958, a judge for the Miss Universe beauty contest.  Mr Vargas came out of retirement for the commission, enticed apparently by a niece who was a fan of the music, something with which he was at the time wholly unacquainted.  The artist’s technique required a photograph on which an image could be based so a photo-shoot was arranged at a nearby Ferrari dealership which, perhaps surprisingly, agreed to have the statuesque, stiletto clad model sprawl over the hood of a 365 GTC/4 then on the lot.  There’s no record of damage to the Rosso Nearco paint so all's well that ends well.  Nearco (1935–1957) was a famous Italian thoroughbred and the factory paint code was 2.664.032; it was a subtly-metallic shade of red rather darker than the classic Rosso Corsa.

Candy Moore adorning Ferrari 365 GTC/4 in Rosso Nearco, Candy-O photo shoot session, Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, 1979.  This was the pre-digital era and photographers used physical film stock although the highly flammable celluloid had by then been replaced by acetate-based “safety film”.

The model in the photo shoot (a substitute after the original had second thoughts upon seeing the scantiness of the outfit) was Candy Moore (who later appeared in the movie Lunch Wagon (1981)) but the name was a coincidence, the album’s title (and sixth track on side one of the original release) locked in long before the shoot.  As is usually the case with photo-shoots, many images were taken and one of the determining factors in the choice was its compositional suitability for use on the 12.375 inch (314.3 mm) square format of album art, the one selected among the last on the roll.  Mr Vargas, being a cheesecake artist, of course used a little licence in his interpretation and (with all due respect to the lovely Ms Moore) few would claim his enhancements don’t add to the appeal.  The other coincidence attached to the model’s name is she’s often confused with the actress Candace Lee Klaasen (b 1947) who worked under the stage name Candy Moore, appearing in well-known television series including Leave It to Beaver, and The Lucy Show.  Surprisingly, even the usually accurate IMDb (Internet Movie Database) once got the two mixed up; the entry has since been corrected.

Monday, August 24, 2026

Variation

Variation (pronounced vair-ee-ey-shuhn)

(1) The act, process, or accident of varying in condition, character, or degree; The act of varying; a partial change in the form, position, state, or qualities of a thing.

(2) Amount, rate, extent, or degree of change.

(3) A different form of something; a variant; a related but distinct thing.

(4) In music, the transformation of a melody or theme with changes or elaborations in harmony, rhythm, and melody (the technique often using repetition of material with alterations to melody, harmony, rhythm, timbre, texture, counterpoint or orchestration (though often with some invariant characteristic).

(5) In ballet, a solo dance, especially one a section of a pas de deux.

(6) In astronomy, any deviation from the mean orbit of a heavenly body, especially of a planetary or satellite orbit.

(7) In admiralty use as applied to nautical navigation, the angular difference at the vessel between the direction of true north and magnetic north; also called magnetic declination.

(8) In biology, a difference or deviation in structure or character from others of the same species or group (specifically in genetics the modification of a hereditary trait.

(9) In linguistics, any form of morphophonemic change, such as one involved in inflection, conjugation, or vowel mutation.

(10) In linguistics, when two or more linguistic forms appear in the same environment without a change in meaning, the choice of form being determined by factors of dialect, sociolect, register or simply the speaker's preference.

(11) In board and other games, a a line of play that differs from the original.

(12) In mathematics (variational calculus), an infinitesimal perturbation applied to a function, typically denoted , used to probe how a functional changes.

1350-1400: From the Middle English variation (difference, divergence), from the Middle French variation, from the Old French variacion (variety, diversity) and directly from the Latin variationem & variātiōn (stem of variātiō) (a difference, variation, change), from the past participle stem of variare (to change) (the source of the modern English vary).  The use in the context of musical composition wasn't common until the early nineteenth century.  The available synonyms themselves show an impressive variation: deviation, abnormality, diversity, variety, fluctuation, innovation, divergence, alteration, discrepancy, disparity, mutation, shift, modification, change, swerve, digression, contradistinction, aberration, novelty, diversification, mutation, alteration, difference.  Apart from the English variation, European descendants include the French variation, the Italian variazione, the Portuguese variação, the Russian вариация (variacija), the Spanish variación and Swedish variation.  Variation & variationism are nouns, variationist is a noun & adjective and variational is an adjective; the noun plural is variations.

In jurisdictions of the common law tradition, the word “variation” must be used with caution because while in documents it can be innocuous, it possesses also a number of well-established legal meanings, these varying according to the field of law where applied.  In the broadest (and simplest) sense, a “variation” is a change to an existing legal instrument, obligation, agreement etc that in some way changes something while leaving the arrangement’s whole substantially in existence.  The most familiar use is in contract law, a variation to a contract an agreement between parties to the contract to alter one or more of the terms.  In practice, despite the evolved rules, with the agreement of all parties, a variation to a contract can be so fundamental that it really become a “new contact”.  Provided there is certainty in the wording of the “variation” and all parties are content, this can be uncontroversial but in disputes, a variation can be found to be so fundamental a court will declare it a “new contract”.  Contract variations are so common (and often oral transactions if minor) that most pass unnoticed though disputed variations are among some of the famous entries in contract law text books.  In the jargon, a variation is conceptually distinct from a rescission (terminating an existing contract) or a novation (substituting a new contract or party for an existing one).

The interesting technical aspect of course is the point at which a “variation” becomes a contract, the terminology of significance because just because those writing something call it a “variation”, that doesn’t mean a court will accept it is one; depending on this and that, it may be held what the parties call a “variation” has, in effect, rescinded and replaced the original contract.  Borrowing from the traditions of equity the maxim “equity looks at substance rather than form” and what contract law judges do is look at consequence rather than the label.  One who would have understood that what matters is substance rather than form was comrade Stalin.  He eventually would find the Yugoslavian communists just to troublesome but while they could still be controlled, he was inclined to despair, complaining they were more Marxist than Marx” and became annoyed with one delegation to which he'd just explained the importance of assuming control of the organs of state without it appearing a communist takeover.  All they wanted to talk about was the design of the red stars for the caps of the police and military personnel, prompting him angrily to exclaim: What do you want with red stars on your caps?  The form is not important but what is gained, and you—red stars!  By God, there’s no need for stars!     

Ginger, copper, auburn & chestnut are variations on the theme of red-headedness: Lindsay Lohan demonstrates the possibilities. 

Courts can also impose variations on their own orders (in which a term or terms might be altered but the order remains operative).  A judge of their own volition may issue a variation or it can be a response to a request from one of the parties (or both) to the proceedings.  Variations in orders are very common in family matters (quantum of maintenance payments, shared parenting arrangements etc) and criminal law (a sentence, bail or parole arrangements etc).  As a piece of judicial administration, variations are a vital aspect because, analogous with the use in contract law, they are a “modification”, meaning the force of the original remains afoot with no need for a re-hearing or the making of a new order.  Of course, a court may choose to set aside an order and make a new one; it’s on an order-by-order basis.  In specialized matters such will or trusts, variations can highly be regulated the laws of trusts especially specific and, as Rupert Murdoch (b 1931) found out, sometimes legally bulletproof.  Beneficiaries and trustees are of course subject to restrictions on variations but courts are also governed by the rules.  

Glenn Gould and the Goldberg Variations: 1955 & 1981

Published in 1741, J.S. Bach’s (1685-1750) Goldberg Variations consists of an aria and thirty variations.  Written for the harpsichord, it was named after German harpsichordist & organist Johann Gottlieb Goldberg (1727-1756), thought to have undertaken the first performance.  The work is now part of the canon of Baroque music but, before 1955, was an obscure piece of the Bach repertoire, a technically difficult composition for the hardly fashionable harpsichord and known mostly as a device for teachers to develop students’ keyboard skills.  Even for aficionados of the Baroque, it was rarely performed.

Glenn Gould (1932-1982) was a Canadian classical pianist, his debut album on the then novel twelve-inch vinyl LP an interpretation of The Goldberg Variations, played not on a harpsichord but a piano.  It was at once acknowledged to be an extraordinary performance and although critics don't always embrace radical approaches to older pieces, the praise was almost universal although there was one reviewer wo expressed "shock" ate Gould's fingers moving at a tempo the composer would never have envisioned, resulting in a piece of electrifying intensity; it really was something beyond mere interpretation. As well as introducing him to a wider audience, The Goldberg Variations proved also Gould's swansong, uniquely for him, re-recorded in 1981 and issued days before his death.  Eschewing the stunningly fast pace that had made the earlier recording famous and clearly the work of a mellower, more reflective artist, for those familiar with the original, it’s a masterpiece of controlled tension.  In 2002, Sony re-released both, the earlier essentially untouched, the later benefiting from a re-mastering correcting some of the technical deficiencies that tended to plague many early digital releases.  Although critics and professional musicians doubtlessly understood why Gould believed there were aspects of the 1955 performance that detracted from the whole and why he felt his second attempt the better piece of art, for those who listen to music for pleasure, it’s still the original that thrills.


Rarely can a single recording have so successfully revived a long-neglected work but that’s what Gould’s 1955 release did for Bach’s Goldberg Variations, his audacious interpretation unlocking fascinations that have since drawn audiences although not until the next century were many other pianists tempted into the studio.  The (alleged) early history also is intriguing: When first published, the piece was titled: “Aria with diverse variations for a harpsichord with two manuals.  Composed for Music Lovers to Refresh their Spirits.”  While we can be grateful for the adoption of the punchier “Goldberg Variations”, the origins of the wordy original may lie in the household of an insomniac Russian count then serving as ambassador to the electoral court of Saxony (part of the Holy Roman Empire).  To sooth him to sleep, the ambassador would have the court musician (Johann Gottlieb Goldberg) spend evenings in an antechamber, playing the harpsichord.  It was the count who requested Bach to compose works of a “gentle yet lively character” so that, even if not lulled to sleep, he might be cheered up.  That tale appeared in a very early biography of Bach and few historians think it likely (his pupil Goldberg was the aged 14) but it’s attractive enough not to be forgotten and while the inclusion of “lively” might seem a strange request from an insomniac, as a chronic condition it has been linked to depression.

Simone Dinnerstein, Goldberg Variations by J.S. Bach (Telarc CD-80692).

Additionally, the count may have had scripture in mind:  “And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.” (1 Samuel 16:23; King James Version of the Bible (KJV, 1611).  Not for nothing is Bach known as perhaps the greatest composer of “Church Music”, his works often including what was in his lifetime called gemüths-ergetzende (soul-enhancing).  Certainly, the work retains its capacity to stun, US pianist Simone Dinnerstein’s acclaimed recording in 2007 one of that year’s big hits on the classical charts: Released by Telarc, it was her self-financed project to mark a return to performance after pausing to give birth to her first child and definitely it was not a Gould 1.1 or 2.1.  Preformed on a 1903 Hamburg Steinway model D concert grand, the sound was sumptuous without the contrived lushness many studios once were compelled to concoct in the day before digital techniques were refined to the point where individual notes could be captured almost in the space’s “specific cubic millimetres”.  What’s often forgotten about the Goldberg Variations is that although reviewers have often focused on the “difficult passages”, some of it is simple indeed and it’s this “light & dark” that can be exploited; Gould in 1955 had his approach, Dinnerstein in 2007 had her own and the contrast in obvious from the opening aria, played at a tempo that will seem startling to those who have only heard Gould’s first take on the meditation.  What she seems to have decided is it could be a romantic piece (not the most fashionable view in 2007), not from beginning to end, but with the character of those passages gaining emphasis from the more rapid sections.  It was an accomplished work and while the virtuosity might have been expected, it’s the inventiveness that will intrigue although there will be some who expected more, some of the repeats not included, presumably a technical limitation of the single-CD release.  Hopefully, like Gould, she’ll re-record, now technology no longer imposes such constraints.

Friday, July 24, 2026

Breakdown

Breakdown (pronounced breyk-doun)

(1) Of machines, a breaking down, wearing out, or sudden loss of ability to function efficiently; something, typically a vehicle or other machine that has experienced mechanical failure.

(2) In political science (of societies), economic collapse, societal fracturing etc.

(3) In mental or physical health, a form of collapse (figurative & literal), associated typically (1) with a sudden worsening of physical health (although that may be the culmination of long-existing issues) or (more commonly) mental stability, resulting in an inability to carry on normal activities; an instance of these manifestations.

(4) In relationships (personal or institutional), a fracturing of previous feelings or arrangements between parties; a failure of or within a relationship; often as a prelude to a “break-up”; a failure or loss of organization in a system.

(5) An analysis or classification of something; division into parts, categories, processes etc; a separation of a thing into components; decomposition, fragmentation.

(6) The detailed categorization, itemization or listing of the components of a thing (usually in printed or digital form).

(7) In biology & chemistry, the natural process of decomposition; specifically in chemistry, the breaking of chemical bonds within a compound to produce simpler compounds or elements; an instance of this.

(8) In physics, the sudden (sometimes damaging) transition of an electrical insulator to a conductor when subjected to a sufficiently strong voltage, caused by the partial or complete ionization of the insulator; an instance of this; also, the minimum voltage at which this occurs.  The classic example is an electric discharge passing through faulty insulation or other material used to separate circuits or passing between electrodes in a vacuum or gas-filled tube.

(9) In bodybuilding, gym routines etc, the “drop set” (a weight training technique).

(10) In veterinary use (equine medicine), injury to a horse's leg causing lameness; an instance of this.

(11) In rugby union, the short period of open play immediately after a tackle and before and during the ensuing ruck (and, to some extent, the maul). 

(12) In film, television (and such) production, a detailed description of a forthcoming project or screenplay which identifies all the required elements, such as the cast, costumes, equipment, props, special effects etc (separate from financing aspects likely also to involve multiple breakdowns, often on spreadsheets).

(13) In forestry, an act of splitting logs of wood using a large saw in a sawmill; the saw used or (rarely) the building in which the process is carried out (use of the term uncommon outside New Zealand.

(14) In music, a part of a piece of a composition that differs from other parts in that it features improvisation or is stripped down (played using fewer instruments or performed by a soloist).

(15) In music, a synonym of “percussion break” (a percussion-focused segment of a song, interpolated through cutting, mixing, and other techniques in order to create “rhythmic music”).

(16) In music, (especially the ominous-sounding sub-genres metalcore, grindcore, & deathcore (the distinction best explained by experts)), a section of a song, characterized by a lower tempo, greater “heaviness” and intensity of sound.

(17) In music, a loud, lively dance from folk traditions, historically conducted usually in a rural setting, most prevalent in the US, south of the Mason-Dixon Line; the terms  “hoedown” & “shindig” are related; a piece of music played for such an event, historically especially the rapid bluegrass tunes featuring the five-string banjo.

1832: The construct was break + down.  Break was From the Middle English breken, from the Old English brecan (to divide solid matter violently into parts or fragments; to injure, violate (a promise, undertaking etc.), destroy, curtail; to break into, rush into; to burst forth, spring out; to subdue, tame (the past tense of bræc & past participle of brocen), from the Proto-West Germanic brekan, from the Proto-Germanic brekanan (source also of the Old Frisian breka, the Dutch breken, the Old High German brehhan, the German brechen and the Gothic brikan), from the primitive Indo-European root bhreg- (to break).  There evolved strong linguistic links with brick, brake & breach.  The thirteen century past tense brake” became archaic but the past participle “broken” endured, the shortened form “broke” in use by at least the mid 1300s and said by the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) to be “exceedingly common” during the eighteenth & nineteenth centuries.  The alternative form is the hyphenated break-down and in scientific use the two spellings can be applied for different purposes.  Breakdown is a noun; the noun plural is breakdowns.

The early nineteenth century use was in the sense of “a collapse, a falling apart”, and was of machinery or mechanical processes; the use in metal health (as “nervous breakdown”) documented in the medical literature since 1866 but clinical or oral use may have a longer history.  As a transitive verb, the phrase “break down was in use by at least the late fourteenth century (in the sense “take down by breaking” while as an intransitive verb (“come down by breaking”), use seems to have emerged in the late 1820s.  As early as 1856 the use is attested in the sense of “to fail through incapacity, excess emotion etc” and this presumably influence the adoption a decade later in the context of discussing mental health (it was in the mid nineteenth century something recognizable as “psychiatry” (in the modern understanding) began to evolve.  The noun (specifically of machinery) was in use by at least 1838 while the meaning “an analysis in detail” emerged in US management jargon in the mid 1930s, based on the notion of “breaking a process into its component parts to permit better analysis of both the pieces and the whole” (an extension of the verbal phrase in use earlier in the decade in the sense of “analyze, classify”.  The American folk dance tradition of “a noisy, lively dance sometimes accompanied by singing” was documented by 1864 but historians suggest the musical form dated back decades and was recorded in writing only when witnesses from the North were documenting conditions in the South towards the end of the US Civil War (1861-1865).  Breakdown became a common element in formation (breakdown crane, breakdown lane, breakdown lorry, breakdown truck, breakdown point, breakdown voltage, climate breakdown, electrical breakdown, mental breakdown, nervous breakdown, organizational breakdown, structural breakdown, supply-chain breakdown etc.

World Rugby's Laws of Rugby Union (2026 edition).  Although the word “breakdown” is not used, the rules (14, 15 & 16) regulating the well-known concept are detailed on pages 68-80.

Because just about any object could be broken, “break” widely was adapted, even serving (of paper & fabric) a la the later senses of “cut”, “tear” or “divide” although in Old English the sense of a broken bone was always “brecan”.  The intransitive sense of “be or become separated into fragments or parts under action of some force” dates from the late twelfth century, extending within decades to “make a first and partial disclosure” while the idea of “lessen, impair” was current by the late 1400s.  The sense of in some way to “destroy continuity or completeness” was from at least the 1740s while in 1882 the phrase “to break” is recorded in reference to physical currency (ie convert large denomination banknotes or coins into smaller units of the same total value).  Although in principle rugby union remains a simple game (once with a four-page rule book), under the auspices of the wise men of the IRB (International Rugby Board, 1886-2014) and later the equally diligent men & women of World Rugby (since 2014), the core rule book is now a hefty 100-odd pages so while it remains simple (relatively speaking; it’s a game of “shapes” rather than “angles”) to play, it’s quite a challenge for referees and as an example, during a breakdown, one referee might find a half-dozen transgressions to penalize while another would allow the game to flow, the latter approach preferred by most spectators.  In those hundred pages, the word “breakdown” doesn’t appear but that aspect of the game is covered by rules 14 (Tackle), 15 (Ruck) & 16 (Maul).

The figurative sense of “breaking someone’s heart” (although in modern medicine it’s now acknowledged people can “die from (figuratively) broken heart”) was in use by the late 1300s and other such adaptations included “break bread together (share food) (late 1300s); “break ground" (to dig or plough land for agricultural purposes) (1670s and by 1710 that literal use was extended figuratively to mean “begin to execute a plan”)."  To break the ice as to “overcome the feeling of restraint in a new acquaintanceship” and was from the late 1500s, the reference being to the “coldness" of encounters of strangers.  The familiar break wind (the sanitized form of “a fart”) was documented in the 1550s but, farts being more ancient, use could have predated that.  The also familiar “to break (something) out” could come from anywhere but was recorded in the 1890s as dock-worker’s slang describing freeing cargo prior to unloading.  The ironic theatrical good luck incantation “break a leg” was definitely in use early in the twentieth century and similar forms exist also in Italian & German.  According to some sources, in the seventeenth century it was used euphemistically (of a woman) to convey “to have a bastard child.”

Cup of char.  Under the Raj, the ritual of the "tea break" in the Indian Civil Service became codified (time span; size of cup according to the official's grade of employment).

The thirteenth century noun use (act of breaking, forcible disruption or separation) came from the verb but apparently not until the late 1500s was it customary to speak of “daybreak” or “break of day” but that notion was by the 1720s in use with the meaning “a sudden, marked transition from one course, place, or state to another”.  The first meal of the day (ie when one “breaks one’s overnight fasting)” was by the mid fifteenth century routinely called “breakfast”.  The sense of a “short interval between spells of work” began in schools in the 1860s and the concept came widely to be applied (sport, employment etc) and was sometimes codified in rigid forms (by the Indian Civil Service’s “tea break” in 1911 and the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) in broadcasting in 1940).  The meaning “stroke of luck” (widely used: “lucky break” or “give me a break”, “never give a sucker an even break” etc) is believed derived from billiards (a game in which the “opening break” (first shot) scatters the ordered balls and is attested from 1865).  The use in music began in the 1920s when jazz musicians began to refer to “improvised passages or solos” thus, the idea being something that was a “break” between structured sections.  The original dance form called “breakdown” (defined by the OED as “a riotous dance, in the style of the negroes”) was probably from some time in the nineteenth century but definitely was from south of the Mason-Dixon Line although element of the style probably can be identified in the folk traditions of many cultures.

Raygun Breaking.

Australian breakdancer (breaker) Dr Rachael “Raygun” Gunn (b 1987), during her much-discussed “highly original” performance at the 2024 Paris Summer Olympics.  Between 2020-2026, Dr Gunn was a lecturer in the Department of Media, Communications, Creative Arts, Language & Literature at Macquarie University Faculty of Arts, Sydney, Australia.  Her Ph.D thesis (2017) was titled Deterritorializing Gender in Sydney's Breakdancing Scene: A B-girl's Experience of B-boying in which she explored “The intersection of gender and Sydney's breaking culture”.  The Ph.D was in the (obviously wide) field “cultural studies” but after her appearance in Paris was publicized, on X (formerly known as Twitter) there was much comment about universities conferring doctorates in break dancing” being a sign of decline in academic standards.   

The more modern “breakdance” seems to have begun in New York City in the 1970s; it was when DJs (disc jockey) played exclusively the “rhythmic break sections from pop-dance songs” and crowds danced accordingly, originally presumably impromptu but the discipline later evolved into choreographed structures.  If, upon entering a room, one sees breakdancing in progress, one’s comment to one’s companion should be: “We are among barbarians.”  Break dancing was included as a “sport” in the 2024 Olympic Games in Paris although the participants are said to prefer it be called “breaking” and the appearance in Paris is thought to have been an attempt to seek the younger demographic not attracted by the charms of “Olympic traditions” such as Greco-Roman wrestling.  The reaction was mixed and, at this time, Breaking is not on the schedules of either the 2028 (Los Angeles) or 2032 (Brisbane) games.   

Although “down” can be used also as a noun, verb, adjective & preposition, as an element in the noun “breakdown”, it operates as an adverbial particle.  What it does is modify the meaning of the verb “break” (in this sense “indicating separation or failure” to create the new noun.  In this context (in a descending direction, from a higher to a lower place, degree, or condition), the pre 1000 down was from the Middle English doun & doune (down), from the Old English dūne (down), an aphetic (loss of a word's initial unstressed vowel) form of adūne (down, downward), from the earlier ofdūne (down (literally “off the hill”), the construct being of- (of, off) + -dūn(e) (hill, mount, dune, down).  Influencing the development from directional phrases to prepositions were the Old Frisian adverb dene (down (literally “(to the) floor”)), the Middle Low German dāle (down, downwards (literally “(in/to the) dale/valley”) from which the German Low German gained dal (down).  The form was cognate with the Scots doon (down) and can be compared with the Saterland Frisian deel (down (literally “to/into the dale”)) and the West Frisian del (down).  The familiar meaning “in a descending direction, from a higher to a lower place, degree, or condition” was inherited from a late development in the Old English that produced a shortened form of the earlier ofdune.  While in general Germanic, this sense development of “hill" uniquely was English.  As a preposition used to mean “in a descending direction upon or along”, use dates from at least the late fourteenth century.  As an idiomatic form, the uses in English of “down” (both literal and figurative) are legion.

Satirical engraving LADIES! LADIES! Mystery of Modern Modesty, Fun magazine, 12 March, 1870.  At the time there was a national debate about the operation of the Matrimonial Causes Act (1857) and the Women's Property Act (1870).

The 1857 Act created a Court of Divorce and Matrimonial Causes and it was in many ways an advance in women’s rights in that it made divorce more accessible but there was an inherent unfairness (something perhaps not surprising in a law emerging from an all-male parliament).  While, as before, men could divorce their wives on the basis of adultery alone, a woman was compelled to prove not only her husband’s adultery but also an additional cause (one or more of cruelty, desertion, incest, rape, sodomy or bestiality).  It was a sexual double standard, the origins of which can be traced to Biblical scripture and reinforced in law the notion a woman's infidelity was inherently worse than that of a man.  Despite that hurdle, the acts did make things slightly better for women in that for the first time there was statutory protection ensuring a divorced woman’s future earnings and property were shielded from claims by an ex-spouse.  Gradually, other reforms further improved things but what didn’t change until the “no fault” principle to some degree civilized divorce proceedings was that the act made “break-ups after break-downs” into a spectator sport and there were tabloid newspapers with sometimes pages of coverage of the antics of the famous or the more salacious conduct by others.

Breakdownism is legal slang referencing the “no-fault” principle existing in many jurisdictions as grounds for divorce.  First becoming popular during the 1970s, it essentially created “divorce on demand”, a reform that has had far-reaching effects (both good and ill) and is thus far thought the “final state” of Western divorce law; certainly it’s an advance “contested” divorces (often highly entertaining matters for others than the parties whose infidelities were being publicized, sometimes with appropriate photographic evidence.  The classic “contested divorce” was a creature of the old Matrimonial Causes Act (1857); prior to that a “complete divorce” permitting remarriage almost always required a private Act of Parliament, a procedure expensive and highly public.  It was also time-consuming, demanding (1) proceedings in an ecclesiastical court seeking an order of separation, (2) in the case of a husband seeking divorce, a successful action for “criminal conversation” (damages against the adulterer) in a common-law court, (3) a correctly drafted private divorce bill introduced into the House of Commons (“first reading”), (4) debate(s) on the bill (“second reading”) that might see the matter (5) “referred to committee for consideration”, (5) a vote in on the bill (“third reading”) that, if passed would see the bill (proposed law) sent to “the other place” (House of Lords) for (6) three readings, possible committee stages and a vote.  If the bill survived all that, it became an act and upon (7) royal assent being granted (by a monarch or their representative (governor, governor-general etc) it was valid law and the divorce had happened.  The subsequent (8) “gazetting” (publication in the Government Gazette) was merely procedural.

So one really had to want a divorce and have the means to obtain one; given all that, it’s not surprising wives and husbands were sometimes murdered as a “work-around”.  One handy solution was however available to certain colonial administrators resident in places where the Islamic Sharia courts operated, applicants often finding the judges much more sympathetic to men wishing quickly to rid themselves of now unsatisfactory wives.  The concept of “breakdownism” ended most of the legal entertainment and the notion of “irreconcilable differences” became the standard expression cited as grounds for divorce.  Regrettably, the tale of one eighteenth century bishop “bribing or persuading" a parliamentary draftsman to insert in an innocuous (and thus not diligently scrutinized) bill the line: “the Bishop of xxx is declared divorced” appears to be apocryphal and may have begun as an illustrative example of the supremacy of parliament over sovereign & church before becoming a “legal legend”.  It probably is a good thing members of the House of Lords no longer debate whether or not to grant someone a divorce because that would at times have meant Lord Peter “Mandy” Mandelson (b 1953) having a vote and the thought of him opining on matters of the conduct and personal morality of others is something to ponder.  The term “meltdownism” is non-standard and used of those for whom “having meltdowns” seems a calling or who obviously “stage” them as a tactic.

Barnes Auto advertising, circa 1939.

In business before World War I (1914-1918) Barnes Auto operates a towing business in Brisbane, Australia, their trucks still adorned in striking blue and orange stripes.  Around 1937, the decision was taken to build a “streamlined breakdown lorry” and while designers in Europe and the US had for some years been applying aerodynamic techniques to heavy trucks, most were produced to improve average speeds and lower fuel consumption on (relatively) high-speed, long-distance routes.  Influenced by advances in aviation, streamlining since the 1920s increasingly had appeared on vehicles on both sides of the Atlantic, the best remembered the grand prix and LSR (land-speed record) machines but stylists (with and without wind-tunnel data), applied the techniques both to mass-market and expensive vehicles so trucks were a logical subject for study given the importance to operators of time and running costs.  Whether Barnes Auto’s 78 HP (horsepower) breakdown lorry, geared as it was to suit its purpose, would often have attained speeds at which the presumed aerodynamic advantages would have rendered either better performance or economy is dubious and the shape may have been more an art deco inspired “rolling advertisement” rather than a piece of functionalism but, if that was the case, it worked because it appears to be the only Brisbane “tow truck” of the era to have survived as a feature in the photographic record.  Certainly, compared with other trucks at the time on the road, the blue & orange striped machine must have been eye-catching.

Barnes' Breakdown Lorry fully loaded, three behind, one in front.

Lorry is of uncertain origin but thought most likely from the dialectal English lurry (to lug or pull about, to drag).  The use emerged in the early to mid-nineteenth century and was applied initially small carts or wagons (both hand propelled and horse-drawn), use quickly extending to the open carriages used on railroads to haul goods or commodities.  In much of the English-speaking world, from the early twentieth century, use transferred to motorized vehicles used for the same purpose and that made sense because the earliest powered lorries literally were the same “carriages” with an engine and drive-train added.  “Lorry” in that sense endures in some places in the old British Empire (notably in India & Pakistan where the linguistic inheritance of the Raj remains strong) but in many places (certainly North America), “truck” (and other specialized forms) became preferred.  Even in some places where use of “lorry” lingers, it's now often a sometimes rare niche word describing freight-vehicles larger than “pick-ups” but smaller than “trucks”.  In Australia and New Zealand, it's possible “lorry” may go extinct as those who grew up with the word age and die.

“Tugboat Annie”, waiting for a breakdown needing a tow, Mankato, Minnesota, US, 1937.

The coach-built body was created by (the still operating) Watt Brothers of Wolloongabba on a 1938 Dodge two-ton truck chassis, shortened, reinforced and converted to full forward control.  Although new to Brisbane, similar lines had been seen in US, notably on “Tugboat Annie”, built in Mankato, Minnesota and based on a 1937 International cabover tow truck; presumably such things provided the template followed by the Watts.  The 78 HP, six cylinder engine (one of the variants of Chrysler’s long-serving “flathead six, 1924-1963), was connected through a series of reduction gears via a double-faced clutch to a double jib hoist capable of a ten-ton lift with the lifting and trailing gear arranged so four vehicles simultaneously could be towed: three at the rear, one in front, an apparatus now unlikely much to impress Australian regulatory.  There doesn’t appear to be footage of the breakdown lorry on the move with four broken–down cars attached (three to the rear, one in front) but it would have required a driver with skill and experience, especially to handle the behaviour of the one ahead, the whole ensemble presumably acting like something centrally “hinged”.  On aspect that would have assisted in that was the outstanding visibility the styling afforded a driver, the extremities of the load being a critical thing to monitor.  Because of the four-vehicle capacity, an impressive 600 feet (183 metres) of wire rope was carried, the location of the connection-points on the towed vehicles an important factor in maintaining directional control while in movement.  The Breakdown Lorry served throughout World War II (1939-1945) and wasn’t replaced (by a conventionally styled, English-built, crew cab Dodge) until the mid 1950s.  Regrettably, Barnes proved unsentimental about retired equipment and once deemed obsolete, Breakdown Lorry was sent to a local rubbish dump, meaning an improbable piece of art deco history was lost but, because of the evidence in photographic archives, the distinctive lines attracted the model-makers, Autocult releasing one in 1:43 scale.

The Breakdown Lorry with Douglas DC-3, Brisbane International Airport, circa 1942 (colorized image).

In Australia, the DC-3 was operated by the RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force), Ansett Airlines, TAA (Trans Australia Airlines, ANA (Australian National Airways) and a myriad of smaller operators.  Produced mostly between 1936-1945, over 600 were built; robust, economical to operate and with an admirable safety record, it was for years a mainstay of civil aviation and General Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; POTUS 1953-1961), who often travelled in one while Supreme Commander Allied Expeditionary Forces (1943-1945), reckoned the DC-3 was one of the tools (others including the bazooka and Jeep) that made Allied victory in World War II possible by 1945.  The DC-3 in the photograph is "Kyilla" (registered as VH-UZJ), the first one imported into Australia (the invoiced cost Aus£41,000).  Delivered in November 1937, it flew with AoA (Airlines of Australia, an operator that in 1931 originally traded as NEA (New England Airlines) before in 1942 being absorbed by ANA).  Between 1939-1940, Kyilla was leased (“temporarily impressed” the wartime terminology) to the RAAF to cover a “delivery gap” and in 1943 it commenced regular service in ANA.

Autocult's 1:43 scale model.

Trucks in the era were anyway low-geared (in some jurisdictions, above a certain gross weight, maximum speeds as low as 30-40 mph (50-70 km/h) sometimes were imposed but the gearbox in the Barnes Breakdown Lorry had an unusually low ratio first-gear (a so-called “stump puller” of the type often seen in agricultural vehicles), enabling it to ascend even the steepest grades, allowing vehicles to be recovered from hilly terrain.  The apparatus used for the double jib hoist must have been intriguing to see and the mechanism, developed in-house by Barns was fine piece of engineering, combining intricacy with robustness while eschewing needless complexity.  In that it followed the maxim on design and problem-solving coined by German architect Professor Heinrich Tessenow (1876-1950): “The simplest form is not always the best, but the best is always simple.  That was a refinement of novacula Occami (Occam's razor), a principle attributed to the English Franciscan friar, theologian & philosopher Guillelmus de Ockham (William of Ockham circa  1287–1347).  Occam’s razor (the idea one of “cutting away the unnecessary) recommends searching for explanations constructed with the smallest possible set of elements; on that basis it was styled also as lex parsimoniae (law of parsimony), often glossed as Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitate (Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity).  Even today the mechanism on a tow truck is a fine example of Professor Tessnow’s maxim being applied with brutish efficiency although modern regulations mean something as intriguing as Barnes’ “four strand” arrangement can no longer be used.

One of the many curiosities in English is despite “up” & “down” being diametric opposites, “break down” and “break up” can mean the same thing.  In human relationships, it’s not uncommon for a “break-up” of a couple to follow a “break-down” in their relationship but when applied to physical objects, some are said to be “broken down” while others are “broken up”, despite the processes being conceptually much the same.  The apparent anomaly is explained by the history of the industries involved and conventions of English.  As a general principle, of objects, “break down” means “to dismantle something into its constituent parts or to reduce it to a simpler state”, meaning the term is used to emphasize fragmentation, destroying the integrity of something as a single object.  Despite that, the convention in the business of “shipbreaking” (literally “cutting apart” vessels and using the metal as “scrap”) is of being “broken up”.  The origin of shipbreaking dates from the nineteenth century when the iron and later steel that had come to be used for the structures was valued as scrap metal after a vessel’s economic life had ended.  This involved sometimes dozens of workers stripping fittings from hulls before progressively cutting or demolishing what remained, section by section, until nothing recognizably nautical remained.  In the industry and in news reports, even then the process routinely was referred to as “breaking up”. 

Putting up a final struggle: HMS Vanguard aground on the way to the wrecker's yard to be broken up, Portsmouth Harbour, England, 4 August, 1960.

Launched in 1946, Vanguard was the RN's (Royal Navy) last dreadnought and no nation has since commissioned a battleship.  In the space of a half-century, the battleship shifted from the most powerful military weapon on earth to a white elephant and despite use of the word “battleship” during Donald Trump's (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) recent mention that the USS Defiant would be the first of the new “Trump Class” of surface warships, the USN (US Navy) will not be launching any true “battleships”, the service having in 1992 struck from the list the last of the four Iowa Class ships commissioned between 1943-1944.

Obviously, shipbreaking, while in a sense a well-planned and careful “disassembly”, was an act of “total and final destruction”, the many pieces of metal sent to be “melted down” before being transformed into something else (not necessarily another ship).  That use of the term was different from the process undertaken by mechanics or technicians when “breaking down” a piece of equipment. Something done typically to effect repairs or maintenance, the emphasis very much on a carefully ordered process, disassembly most systematic because all or some of the components removed would need to be restored to their original positions when the thing was “put back together”.  So that’s how the conventions emerged: (1) “breaking up” a destructive process and (2) “breaking down a step in processes of repair, maintenance or upgrades.  Deconstructing the elements at the etymological level, there’s no reason why the terms couldn’t have been applied the other way round but, by patterns of use, the idiomatic forms became fixed.

A Lindsay Lohan “meltdown scene”, The Canyons (2013).

In the furnaces fed by the shipbreakers, to “melt down” was literally to bring scrap metal to its melting point, meaning it flowed like a liquid and could be cooled to form into shapes able to be re-used (plates, bars, beams etc).  In the post-war years, “meltdown” (first in this context recorded in 1963) ominously became familiar as the graphical encapsulation of what would happen to at least a large part of the core of a nuclear-reactor were the fuel elements subject to inadequate cooling.  The idea was the highly radioactive core would become so hot it would “melt down”, through the floor to the earth below.  Depending on the thickness of the facility’s concrete floor a core could in theory do exactly that but extending the idea to the popular description “China syndrome” was fanciful.  That idiom was based on the notion that if one (in Europe) kept digging a hole, eventually they’d dig “all the way to China” (“China” a synecdoche for “other side of the world”).  In many places the geography would have been dubious but so too the geology; even by 2026 the deepest hole ever dug remains Hole SG-3 (Kola Superdeep Borehole) in Russia’s Murmansk region.  Begun as a Soviet scientific project in 1970, by 1989 it achieved a vertical depth of 12.7 kilometres (7.6 miles) into the Earth's continental crust at which point the project had to be abandoned because temperatures at the drill bit had reached 180°C (356°F), much hotter than the expected 100°C (356°F).  At that level, rock becomes too soft successfully to drill.  Technically, the 12.7 km depth was a remarkable piece of applied engineering but to put the “China Syndrome” into perspective that’s around 0.2% of the way to the planet’s centre (the Earth's radius is some 6,371 kilometres (3959 miles)).

The “Elephant's Foot”, Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, Ukraine.  It came more to resemble a boot but when first identified, it was though to be more pachydermish”.

So, in a nuclear meltdown, a core would have a long way to go and, in the most infamous example to date, the core didn’t get even to the Earth’s surface.  In April 1986, reactor 4 of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant (in Ukraine, then one of the constituent SSRs (Soviet Socialist Republic) of the Soviet Union (1922-1991)) exploded after a serious of procedural errors in what was, with the darkest irony, supposed to be a routine “safety test”.  When the heat of the core passed the “critical point of no return” the meltdown started, the core (a molten, toxic, lava-like mixture of uranium fuel, graphite, steel and concrete (“corium” in the jargon) melted through the bottom of the reactor vessel, flowing through pipes, corridors, and steam suppression pools inside the building.  The core did however stay completely within the facility’s basement levels (made from thick concrete) and it remains radioactive although it has now cooled to the point where it’s possible to stand relatively close without receiving a dangerous dose although, uranium being almost inert, if left undisturbed, when (10 billion years from now) our Sun expires (having “burned up” the fuel sustaining its nuclear fusion) some 25% of it will remain extant and the Elephant's Foot will be about as radioactive as its weight in bananas.  A banana contains Potassium-40 and is about as radioactive as a typical carrot or potato but other foods are more so, Brazil nuts by a factor of more than three.

Bruno Ganz’s “Hitler’s meltdown scene” in Downfall (2004).

In informal use, “meltdown” is used of sudden declines in stock prices or other undesirable “sharp market corrections” but the most popular use is of “dramatic performances (of grief, rage, despair etc) consequent upon a sudden loss of control over one’s feelings or behavior.  Mothers will be familiar with meltdowns by their toddlers, typically over life-changing issues such as not getting an ice cream or the television being switched-off.  On screen, one of the most famous depictions of a meltdown was the performance of Swiss actor Bruno Ganz (1941-2019) as Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) in Downfall (2004), a study of the characters in the Führerbunker during the “last days of the Third Reich”.  The performance inspired an entire genre of “Hitler Rant Parodies”, the quality of which is “patchy”.  Hitler’s meltdown came during a military briefing after learning Waffen-SS (Armed SS) Obergruppenführer (general) Felix Steiner (1896–1966) had failed to assemble the forces to launch a relieving attack Hitler had ordered against the Red Army formations besieging Berlin.  That was by then militarily impossible but the unwelcome news induced in Hitler a legendary rant of several minutes during which he ranged against those he thought responsible for his predicament, notably the army’s officer corps and even the previously trusted SS.

The SS (ᛋᛋ in Armanen runes; Schutzstaffel (literally “protection squadron” but translated variously as “protection squad”, “security section" etc) was formed (under different names) in 1923 as a Nazi party squad to provide security at public meetings (then often rowdy and violet affairs) and was later re-purposed as a personal bodyguard for Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945).  The SS name was adopted in 1925 and during the Third Reich the institution evolved into a vast economic, industrial and military apparatus more than two million strong to the point where some historians (and contemporaries) regarded it as a kind of “state within a state”.  The Waffen-SS (armed SS (ie equipped with military-grade weapons)) existed on a small scale as early as 1933 before Hitler’s agreement was secured to create a formation at divisional strength and growth was gradual even after the outbreak of hostilities in 1939 and it was the invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941 which triggered the Waffen-SS’s expansion into a multi-national armoured force with over 900,000 men under arms.  As well as the SS’s role in the administration of the many concentration and extermination camps, the Waffen-SS was widely implicated in war crimes and crimes against humanity.  Towards the end of the meltdown, Hitler, with tears in his eyes, admitted the war was “lost”, something that was by then (or should have been) obvious to all in the bunker.  Although only two of those who witnessed the meltdown survived the war to tell the tale (Generaloberst (Colonel General) Alfred Jodl (1890–1946, chief of the OKW operations staff 1939-1945 and Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Keitel (1882–1946; chief of OKW 1938-1945)), such was the volume it was heard by many in an adjoining room and historians agree Ganz’s performance captured the moment.