THIS is the first, agenda-setting edition of a column that hopes to be as wide-ranging as possible. It’ll deal with the very best in new books, art, film, music, theatre, games, comedy, architecture — and anything else that I can get past the editor.

If we were to climb a large mountain, metaphorically speaking, and gaze out upon the cultural landscape, what we would see may tempt us never to come down.

If we peer towards film, we’ll see a mainstream dominated by sequels, remakes or else simply re-adaptations of previous comic book adaptations.

Hollywood reached a spectacular nadir with the Transformers franchise, those giant robots from 1980s toy adverts now repurposed with CGI and often found in touchingly homoerotic scenes with members of the US military.

If we look at music, we see that we’re back to the 1950s, with manufactured pop stars singing songs of vague hope and empty aspiration.

The likes of Ed Sheeran or Adele are happier to talk in units sold and international demographics reached than any commentary on the planet they exist on.

Elsewhere it’s permanent nostalgia, with bands of 20 or 30 years ago headlining festivals or touring their “classic” albums to an audience who are still wishing it was 1998/7/6/5.

Beneath this corporate mainstream, the incessant erosion of public space and social time has made it increasingly difficult for people to come together and create vital art.

Venues, pubs, clubs, community centres, working people’s clubs and other spaces of crucial creative worth are shutting down at a worrying rate.

Thanks to a ruinous economy based on property speculation, many of these spaces have been be sold off, knocked down and replaced with housing of a dubious nature.

The internet has also had unexpected implications for the arts, as it has for most things.

While artists and musicians are able to reach and interact with their audience like never before and collaborate across vast distances, the likelihood of them being paid for doing so has never seemed less likely.

The ease of self-publishing and self-production has democratised expression but social media has encouraged us to use it simply to interact with brands and show people carefully edited stage versions of our happy lives.

Consider too the impact of almost everything from the past 80 years being accessible.

How does the shock of the new win out? How do we avoid the temptation to simply wallow luxuriantly in, say, 1930s jazz when all those rich past streams are instantly and comprehensibly on offer?

What happens to tribalism when everyone likes everything?

We’re living in what may optimistically be described as a period of late capitalism, in which artistic expression has increasingly been co-opted — both consciously and unconsciously — to support a narrative of perpetual maintenance of the economic status quo.

Now for the cheery bit.

I’m not prepared to sit on my metaphorical mountain moaning about it all any longer.

There’s still plenty of wonderful stuff going on and I intend to tell you about it.

Anything that challenges the state we’re in, either directly or indirectly, will certainly find a home here.

And I’d like your help in covering it all. Any events, gigs, or other happenings of a cultural nature that you think deserve my attention? Email, send a carrier pigeon or semaphore your tips my way, either via jamesofwalsh@gmail.com or, if you’re that way inclined, find me on Twitter @jamesofwalsh