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2009-09-02T04:19:00.000-07:00

JAY REATARD - WATCH ME FALL

read the article on Gigwise here...

Jay Lindsey of deep-south American town Memphis, TN is a proper punk rock hero. He writes from the heart, no pretence, straight from the heart. He doesn’t believe in himself, but he believes in punk rock. Not punk rock music as such – Watch Me Fall is more pop punk or even power pop than it is punk rock – but more punk rock: the mentality. Do loads, work with cool people, be in unsuccessful bands, get referenced by really famous people… make the NME Cool List. Yep.

For a man who has been involved in over 23 album releases and loads of singles and things on top of that. A man who released records for Sonic Youth and Deerhunter, and who averages 150 live shows a year to often bewildered crowds. For a man used to being ignored by the mainstream, releasing his first record on a ‘major’ must be a difficult step. Will people hate me for it? Have I sold out? Is this the beginning of the end? Watch Me Fall.

But Jay doesn’t fall. Watch Me Fall is his debut album proper, on Matador – a respectable berth for anyone – and has twelve good songs on it. The album opens with 'It Ain’t Gonna Save Me' – a barefaced ode to what once was, and a fearful glance at what is to come: “All is lost, there is no hope, all is lost, you can’t go home, all is lost there is no hope for me.”

He continues in this fashion, chugging guitars and solid tinny drum noises hint at some underlying triumphalism. The second track Before I Was Caught is optimistic, but the title gives away its regretfullness – This is old optimism from before he was caught, now he’s not so sure. Reatard believes an album should work together; that iTunes is ruining the album, and so it’s no surprise that Watch Me Fall develops thematically and smoothly.

From 'Can’t Do It Anymore' and 'Faking It' his anger at himself spread out to the rest of us – the final three songs on the record: 'My Reality', 'Hang Them All' and 'There Is No Sun' have stopped blaming himself, and started to bemoan the world. This is not a depressing record, this is a depressed man fighting to be hold on and be heard.

There is much to be learned from this man.

2009-05-30T07:53:00.000-07:00

Saturday 30/05/09 Primavera Sound Festival, Day Three @ Parc Del Forum, Barcelona

Read the full review on Gigwise here...

Saturday saw us traipsing around Barcelona searching for a pub to watch the FA Cup Final in before settling on the Black Horse just near Parc Ciutadella – a pub which had earlier in the week shown the Championship play off final; that’s dedication. Good match. Solid football played by both, but Chelsea had the quality to hold off Everton’s opportunism. Rock Music.

As we get in we are treated to the countrified croonings of Minnesota’s The Jayhawks. They play quite standard country rock of about 20 years ago, for what feels like ages. It’s inoffensive stuff, and perhaps the perhaps the perfect lead up to the big guy, Neil Young, on the same stage.

But before Neil can put everything on hold, there’s time for Herman Dune to do his thing over on the Rockdelux. David-Ivar certainly delivered a happy set of French joy. Stand out track I Wish That I could See You Soon had everybody dancing and smiling like only a simple love song can. Also it was hard to ignore how much the drummer looked like Leonardo DiCaprio in The Aviator.

Then it was time for Mr. Neil Young and everything stopped. Between nine o’clock and ten thirty there was nothing else. Everyone in the whole festival was watching Neil do his thing on the Estrella Damm stage. It was quite a feeling. There he is – the silver haired king of rock music. This is what the people want. Just glance around and where before people could wander relatively freely around the site, now they were a mass of people.

Neil said nothing to the crowd, no attempt at Spanish: no attempt at interaction even. Perhaps he’s decided it just isn’t worth it any more, or perhaps he just doesn’t have anything left to say. His voice is still spot on, with that delicate edge making it so soulful when he sing about the trials of life. When he wrote Heart of Gold he wasn’t old… now he literally is getting old, and he’s not going down quietly. Well done Neil.

Far be it for Liars to be upstaged, Angus thanks Neil Young for opening for them and then smashes into a pulsing set. He is like Todd Trainer – all snake hips and clothes that weren’t meant to be on his body (he finishes the set topless with one trouser leg rolled up. The thunderous ‘tribal’ drums are like a paracetamol advert. The vocals are wailed joy. The crowd erupts when they announce “you’re lucky. We haven’t done this for a long time: we’re gonna play one from our very first record.” They don’t give us mr you’re on fire mr, but Grown Men Don’t Fall In The River Just Like That is amazing nonetheless!

So that’s it for Primavera Sound then… and amazing festival it has to be said. Forty thousand people is just right. Six stages is just right. The mix of music is just right. The Spanish weather is absolutely spot on.

Hang on… Sonic Youth are playing? Jesus this is good. Kim Gordon howls while Thurston shakes. Hey Joni and Crème Brulee hit the spot just right, while the big tunes are a little less readily available. From where we are this might as well be the 80s as they look like a bunch of students introducing the world to proper punk rock music. The crowd is awash with smug grins, happy to have been treated to some enormous bands to cap of this fine festival.

2009-05-29T07:47:00.000-07:00

Friday 29/05/09 Primavera Sound Festival, Day Two @ Parc Del Forum, Barcelona

Read the full review on Gigwise here...

Day Two was the top day - non-stop hits from evening ‘til morning. The sun was shining high in the sky and even the industrial wastelands around the site look pretty in Spanish dusk. The day kicked off musically with the Vivian Girls whose washed out, fuck you we don’t care punk played perfectly in the Spanish sun peeping through the weird structure surrounding the Pitchfork stage. Playful chatting about hitch-hikers they’d grabbed in Leeds made us jealous. These girls are great, we want to hang out with them.

Art Brut are a reasonable joke that’s gone horribly wrong. Eddie Argos came onto the Estrella Damm stage with a fresh new album in his pocket and the world of confidence. Art Brut have one album’s worth of good songs – that’s all they ever really threatened to have, but then they got big, and now they’ve got three albums and they’re playing the ‘main’ stage at Primavera. They are the low point of the weekend: their songs don’t matter any more, they’ve lost themselves.

Sunn 0))) are so unfathomably far away from Art Brut in everything they are doing that it is painful. They are two massive men. They are one huge wall of speakers. They are wave after wave… after… wave… of grind. They played The Grimmrobe Demos from start to finish in the weekend’s only Don’t Look Back series show for ATP. They played wearing their trademark capes and shrouded in smoke. They’re notes were difficult to pick out amid gut-wrenching feedback and white noise. What began as a jam-packed auditorium thinned quickly. You get the impression that that is what they wanted: they view that as a win! Their music makes you think, it forces you to think hard – it’s claustrophobic and inquisitive. Watching them is a challenge rather than a pleasure – and it’s the succeeding that brings the happiness.

We gathered our thoughts, and what was left of our souls to run over for Jarvis. He followed Art Brut on the ‘main’ stage and came on like the hero he is. He’s full of hot moves still, and good tunes (maybe not that good, but good nonetheless) and now he’s got Steve Albini’s trademark crunch in there too. He paraded round the stage grandly, his voice sounded spot on and his chat was the best yet – “what does that banner say? Can I wear it?”

The Dan Deacon Ensemble were something else over on the Pitchfork stage with drums pulsing like The Boredoms and synths flying high, while Deacon himself – a sort of hyperactive musical savant – careered around trying to organize awkward fun, and getting frustrated when the Spanish didn’t understand his 100mph stream of English instructions. After the second unsuccessful attempt to organize a dance battle Deacon’s commitment swung from quaint to annoying and Albini called from the ATP stage.

Shellac were immense, crashing through a monster set, full of hits (yet sorely lacking Prayer To God and Watch Song). They almost eschewed their usual question session in favour of more hits allowing one question – “why haven’t you played Watch Song?”… well? Todd Trainer was incredible as always – like a sexual lizard. And Albini and Weston’s vocals filled with the same bile they’ve always had, and will always have.

2009-05-28T07:35:00.000-07:00

Thursday 28/05/09 Primavera Sound Festival, Day One @ Parc Del Forum, Barcelona

Read the full article on Gigwise here...

Some kids over the road were happily setting off cherry bombs as we dragged ourselves out of bed to prepare for the first day of the festival proper. You see, on Wednesday 27th – the day before Primavera Sound – Barcelona erupted into a war zone. All it took was a cheeky Sam Eto’o toe-poke and a clinical Lionel Messi header to clinch the first treble Spain has ever seen for the club who has perhaps deserved it longer than any other.

But I’m talking football, and we’re here for rock music, right? Primavera Sounds is like a Spanish ATP with the Grange Hill nostalgia of Butlins chalets replaced by the eery stillness of the Parc Del Forum, and the blissful ridiculousness of the old Camber Sands beach replaced by the brazen flesh party of Barcelona’s man-made beach.

The music is pretty much the same – there’s even an ATP stage at Primavera, where Lightning Bolt are playing when we make our first sweep of the site. And yes, they are playing on a stage. The inevitable has happened: they caved. They grew up (a bit) and now they play safe sets on stages. Their sets are still crazed bang-ups but the magic has dissipated some.

Then perhaps fittingly it’s over to Marnie Stern to kick things off tapping and yelping her way through a dynamite set of hits, while her enigmatic bassist smolders before thanking the crowd and saying “I never thought we’d be doing this, you have no idea!”

Over on the Rockdelux stage we catch a glimpse of the reformed Vaselines, just in time to hear Molly’s Lips before returning to the ATP stage for a strangely compelling set of balls out of the bath rock music from legends The Jesus Lizard. They are tight as hell and despite the weakness of David Yow’s voice these days, they still rock hard and fast and he finds the time to throw himself into the crowd head first.

Our first visit to the Pitchfork stage is another welcome surprise as The Bug produce the best dance action of the fest so far. Flow Dan spits some incomprehensible jams while the beats bounce like my non-international bankcard. It was a shame when they were cut short during Poison Dart, but that said, it didn’t have the same punch without Warrior Queen’s vox on it. Then it’s over to the ‘Main’ stage (Primavera doesn’t really do ‘Main’ but this is the one Neil Young is playing on Friday and so I suppose this is it) for an impressive, if stunted slice of another of the festival’s reformers; MBV, before heading back to Pitchfork for the days big winner: Ponytail.

Molly and co. put in a storming set of genuine party tunes reducing us en masse into a writhing mess. 7 Souls, Beg Waves and Late For School all set smiles alight, and when I throw my arm around Molly and tell her “that was an AWESOME set, you guys rock!” later on in the night, I fucking mean it dammit!

Post-Ponytail we freaked out to some smashing visuals from Aphex Twin including murmuring references to Windowlicker before witnessing part of the now fabled Wavves breakdown and then spiralling off into the night chatting Champions League could have beens with Spanish folks on the metro. Good start for sure!

2009-03-31T02:05:00.000-07:00

CONDO FUCKS - FUCKBOOK

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Six albums down the line Condo Fucks are still blazing out rock ‘n’ roll grimery with heterosexual abandon. Whether new album Fuckbook is actually a nod to a new fad that’s sweeping The USA of America called Facebook remains to be seen. But if it’s anything like as visceral and all-conquering as the Fucks themselves then the UK has something to look forward to.

If you haven’t heard of the CFs before then worry not because you may still recognise some tracks here. They’ve ripped through an album of covers for their Fuckbook, grabbing songs from across the ages and giving them the Condo treatment. They’ve taken everything from the Beach Boys to Richard Hell and pulled no punches.

They feature all three current members of the band Yo La Tengo.

Hang on… that means they ARE Yo La Tengo.

But Yo La Tengo do nice songs, and dreamy songs. Yeh, they are punk rock, they sure ain’t Condo Fucks. But they are.

Condo Fucks is the side project/alter-ego/schizophrenic realisation of Yo La Tengo’s James McNew, Georgia Hubley (known here as Georgia Condo) and Ira Kaplan (here as Kid Condo) where they indulge their love of the cover, and combine it with a clear desire for the dirty.

Fuckbook rocks. It’s gritty and skronky in the extreme. It sounds like they’ve come up with the tracklist at breakfast, recorded it over lunch (using breaks between singing duty to guzzle some petrol and hammers), thought about mastering it at teatime, but instead just released it, and it’s great for it.

Some tracks are brilliantly recognisable – Ira’s and James’ take on the Beach Boys’ Shut Down takes the sheen of the original in cracking style, then Georgia takes lead on a rendition of The Troggs’ With A Girl Like You that makes you want to get up and ‘ba ba ba’ along like it hasn’t gone out of fashion.

In the immortal (who knows whether they actually wrote them, but who cares!) words of The Hartford Advocate, The Condo Fucks are “one of the best bands Connecticut has to offer.” Fact.

2009-03-18T12:41:00.000-07:00

MARY CHOCOLATIER - EASTER COLLECTION

read the article on The Culinary Guide here...

Mary Chocolatier have been making chocolate for 90 years, hail from Brussels in Belgium – some might call the home of fine chocolate – and have been producing chocolate by Royal Warrant since1942. With a pedigree like this you’d be forgiven for expecting something rather special: Milk Tray this is not, but do they measure up? And is their Easter Collection worth your hard-earned dollar?

Top end chocolates have a habit of making the same mistake that many top end eateries are guilty of – too much time on the fancy stuff, and not enough time on the basics. Show me a Trattoria that serves a simple, lightly browned, crisp yet moist, tangy yet sweet, ‘with cheese’ yet not cheesy, sensationally tasty margarita pizza and I’ll trust that the rest of their pizzas are exceptional too (in fact I’ll probably insist on trying them for that very same reason). Equally, show me a chocolatier who, with a single piece of smooth, rich, creamy-yet-caustic dark chocolate, can weaken my knees and the rest will almost always slot sweetly in to place.

Mary is that chocolatier. Her chocolate is weak-at-the-knees good – the sort of chocolate that could swing a marriage proposal; or in a more sedate setting could at least guarantee a second date.

The Easter collection features most of what you’d expect: big Easter bells, Bambi-esque bunnies, a big chicken and, of course, eggs; both big and small. They’re all cast in Mary’s dark chocolate and the chicken and egg (or should that be egg and chicken? Which came… forget it) can both be filled with a selection of chocolates from the Mary Chocolatier range, which is where it gets really decadent.

Choose from ganache, crème fraiche, liqueur, truffle, marzipan and many more. There’s subtle layers of flavour in the Badouin ganache where a light milk chocolate shell gives way to an even lighter, caramel-like milk chocolate ganache. There’s big slap-in-the-face flavours like the Truffe Fruits De Bois where the same milk chocolate hides what feels like a whole black forest gateaux. This is good stuff.

There’s an admirable amount of attention gone into the presentation here as well. The cunningly named Escargot is in the shape of a snail (Escargot is French for snail). Some of the ganache and praline range have images printed onto them, while elsewhere, in the crème fraiche and Marzipan ranges, others proudly sport a coffee bean or a walnut.

It can all get a bit much at times – big flavours and awkward combinations can sometimes leave you cold, but Mary encourages you to treat her wares like a fine cheese or wine: to take the time out to really savour the flavours, aromas and textures of each. But if that isn’t your style, just guzzling them all down should suffice to make for one of best Easter’s since the original.

Mary has just opened a new outlet at the Westbury Centre where you can try before you buy, and soak up the chocolate atmosphere, but if you fear you might not be able to control yourself you can also find out more, and order anything you choose online at www.marychocolate.co.uk or call (+44) 0208 749 2088 to order from anywhere in the known world. Be sure to order by April 12 for Easter.

2009-03-16T12:26:00.000-07:00

ART BRUT - ART BRUT vs. SATAN

read the article on Gigwise here...

Eddie Argos and co. are back in our ears after last year’s ‘amicable’ split from EMI, soon after the major label released the song Pump Up The Volume as a download without their say so. Art Brut vs. Satan is released on Cooking Vinyl, the home of The Prodigy, Heaven 17, Camper Van Beethoven, and now Art Brut. It’s a proud record label championing pioneers and poets like the Pixies and Billy Bragg, but whether Art Brut fit in there remains to be seen.

Eddie Argos is a poet though, isn’t he? - a modern day troubadour, telling us of his woes, his loves and his losses, with simple, pure, pop-punk verses? Like a Greater London Weezer Art Brut have won the hearts of a dedicated few while completely passing by the contented masses. Perhaps that’s why the split with EMI was so amicable – the imprint wanted world-beaters, Art Brut just wanted to write love songs.

So, have they still got it? Well, Art Brut vs. Satan opener Alcoholics Unanimous would say yes. It’s a balls out of the bath rant about a hangover. “Bring me tea, bring me coffee” bellows Argos with his typical snarl-less endearment.

The album is produced by Frank Black, of The Pixies and Frank Black fame, and is better for it. On The Passenger - a funny nod to Iggy and the Stooges that is literally about public transport - loose guitar noise gives way to Kim Deal-esque backing vox before in comes Argos to claim it back. Then on What A Rush more of Frank’s geetar whining squeals through the speakers. But this is a good thing, mos def.

Sadly, the album peters out. Argos continues to moan like a fifteen year old losing Emily Kane, but it starts to grate. DC Comics and Chocolate Milkshakes is great – probably the best track on the album (and I prefer Marvel and Strawberry) but by the time you get to Summer Job, via Am I Normal and (Chaka Demus & Pliers tribute) Twist & Shout to the painful Mysterious Bruises, it’s too much.

It’s out of date. On Demon’s Out he’s shouting about pop music, the record buying public and reality TV. Come on Eddie, we’ve done that, the public don’t buy records any more.

Slap Dash For No Cash is a raucous respite where he champions real, raw music; music where you can here their parents saying “turn it down, turn it down, TURN IT DOWN!” but it’s not enough to save the album. Despite some inspired moments, the record middling too often.

2009-03-02T04:34:00.000-08:00

RED LIGHT COMPANY - FINE FASCINATION

They formed in 2007, come from lots of places, have released four singles, and are now releasing their debut album; Fine Fascination on indie imprint Lavolta. They sound a bit like The Editors, a touch like White Lies and a lot like U2. They sound a tad like The Arcade Fire, a smidge like Figurines and a portion like The Flaming Lips. They’re anthemic and pop sensible while being gloomy and gothic – but they’re not Morrissey or The Cure. They’re a lot of things.

There’re five of them and they came together through internet shenanigans (not like that!). Bassist Shawn Day answered an ad placed by singer Richard Frenneaux on the Tuesday, and the band had their first gig on the Friday. This wouldn’t be so special but for the fact that Day answered the ad from Wyoming, and hopped on the plane the next day. A few immigration issues and a bunch of ‘best of British’ bandmates (James from Bridgend, Chris from Maidenhead and Paul from Motherwell) and Red Light Company was born.

A few months later and their first album is here. Their sound is grandiose posturing, the sort of epic tenacity made tawdry by the likes of terminal do-gooders U2 and Coldplay, but then reclaimed by genuine believers like the Arcade Fire and Annuals. At times on Fine Fascination you could be forgiven for wondering why Win Butler is putting on an English drawl.

Fine fascination flits from upwardly promising to genuinely catchy, but then drops all too easily into dullness and filler. Early promise comes in the form of ‘hit single’ Scheme Eugene with it’s reprise about playing Broken Social Scene with the Eugene of the title. You can imagine yourself pumping a fist in the air: a similar thrill to that which came with the first listen of The Kissaway Trail’s last album.

But, like the Kissaway Trail, Red Light Company ultimately leave you wanting. There are too many insincere ‘U2’ moments (incidentally the album is proudly produced by Adrian Bushby, who’s worked with the U2). The brooding First We Land floats around in the background like Where The Streets have No Name era, and never quite hits its stride, and When Everyone Is Everybody Else has Bono written all over it.

Perhaps the album’s finest moment is when Frenneaux’s voice sounds most like Christian Hjelm of Danish indie-rock band Figurines on With Lights Out and album closer The Alamo. These are the pop moments that you can believe in. Sadly there is just too much insincerity to fall for these guys.

2009-02-16T06:49:00.000-08:00

NASA - THE SPIRIT OF APOLLO

Read the article on Gigwise here...

N.A.S.A is two sparkly LA scenesters called Squeak E. Clean and DJ Zegon (of course they’re not actually CALLED these names, they’re pseudonyms like – they’re CALLED Sam Spiegel and Zé Gonzales respectively). Squeak, or Spiegel, is Spike Jonze’s brother and Zegon, or Zé is a pro skater. Yessir, these guys are some talented guys AND they’ve got some friends too…

The Spirit of Apollo boasts “over 40 guest artists”. You might expect this to be all kinds of too-kool-for-skool unheard of LA DJs and MCs – and there are some of those – but for the most part these are some really BIG names. There’s everyone from the getting-big (Lykke Li, Santogold and the Cool Kids) via the pretty-darn-big (Karen O, David Byrne and John Frusciante) to the shitting-huge (Sizzla, Chuck D and Tom Waits!). Nigh on every song has at least two guest stars on it bleating away to differing degrees of success.

Ok, so there’s Eff-loads of stars there, but does it work? Well, sometimes. The album veers so massively from one song to the next, as you’d expect if you get forty egos flying around, that it’s difficult to feel it as a coherent album.

They do successfully bring the party and you can bust some moves. Karen O’s seductive mantra over Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s and Fatlip’s gruntings on 'Strange Enough' cannot fail to get your arms bouncing. Equally, the combo of MIA and Santogold’s booty shakin’ riddims, Nick Zinner’s (Karen O’s bandmate in Yeah Yeah Yeahs) geetar and Spank Rock’s crazy scat shouting, makes the song’s name 'Whatchadoin’?' the right question to ask anyone who isn’t bouncing.

So what’s wrong with it? Well, it’s N.A.S.A. They pipe on about unity and equality, and these grand ambitions about new world order on the 'Intro', but then proceed to fall on their own sword. With a roster this Phat you just have to do more. The stars strut their thing, but there’s no sense of anyone taking control. There’s no Bob Geldof to organise this rap version of Live Aid. And, in this case, we need a Bob Geldof.

2009-02-02T08:41:00.000-08:00

MICACHU - JEWELLERY

Read the article on Gigwise here...

Mica Levi had a good 2008: two secretly successful seven inches, a couple of grimy mixtapes, a piece commissioned for the London Philharmonic Orchestra and some choice column inches devoted. She is only 21, studies at Guildhall, has been signed to Matthew Herbert’s Accidental Records and is now about to release her debut album Jewellery.

It’s a peach. With the help of her two trusty Shapes – Raisa Khan on electronics and Marc Pell on percussion – she’s put together a record that’s all over the place, but works: it’s a pop record.

Jewellery is 15 pop songs that shift from bumpy hip hop to jangly, geetar crunk, via some Herbert-influenced (he’s worked with Roisin Murphy) swing moments, and is all over in under 35 minutes. There’s hundreds of other styles in there too… but at it’s heart Jewellery is unabashed pop. Mica herself said it’s indecision rather than experimental.

Micachu’s vocals have the straight up chat quality of fellow Lahndaner Billy Bragg. She chats about things like shit blokes on Worst Bastard: “When you pinched her arse she slapped you hard cos you’re a perv,” and taking precautions on the album’s catchiest moment Just In Case: “I Don’t have sex because of STDs.”

While for some artists indecision holds them back, Mica just ploughs on leaving potential mistakes cloaked in ambiguity. The album is full of found sounds and electronic flourishes that compliment the acoustic rattle and solid drums. On final track Turn Me Well she brings in a Vacuum, blending dissonant, ambient noises with crisp bass-heavy beats to create another album highlight.

Other stand out tracks include previous single Golden Phone, replete with dubsteppy backing vocal, Sweetheart for her Snoop-from-The-Wire-esque gurgles and Guts for the pots and pans percussion. Micachu is the shit yo!

2009-02-02T03:46:00.000-08:00

THE PAINS OF BEING PURE AT HEART - S/T

Read the article on Gigwise here...

There’s a new set of horses vying for your dollar out of the New York stable. They come with knitted sweaters on, eyes wide as starships and records full to bursting with C86 jangle. They are Vivian Girls, they are Crystal Stilts, and they are The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. Washed out, shoegaze indie is due its turn to try winning back the aching hearts of another generation of struggling, side-lined youthful lovers. The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart are four cute-as-koalas twenty-somethings from New York, led by the impossible combo of Kip and Peggy. Feeling a bit sick yet? Get this – they formed for Peggy’s birthday at a Brooklyn warehouse AND they refer to their upcoming tourmates The Wedding Present – a combination so made in heaven it hurts – as “The Weddoes”.

Swill the sickly sweet taste (or should that be the sweetly sick taste) from your mouth, you can engage your ears. Their self-titled debut album takes a wide-eyed walk through the late eighties shoegaze scene, taking in big slices of early Cure, Belle and Sebastian and The Cure. There’s even a big hint of The Stone Roses on 'The Tenure Itch': one of the album’s highlights. With their choice of influence comes a great burden of responsibility. These are bands that inspire obsession – fans would throw themselves in front of bullets to preserve this music.

The reason TPOBPAH can survive with this on their shoulders? They ARE those fans, they have pored through every note these bands have ever written. It pours out of the record, not as theft, but as homage – obsession. They know these bands better than they know themselves. 'Come Saturday 'is like their answer to Robert Smith’s 'Friday I’m In Love'. Friday’s done and now we’re free to spend Saturday whirling around our bedroom, arms by our sides, head lifted to the sky, eyes closed, like Audrey in Twin Peaks.

It’s all over in under 35 minutes and you’re free to remember where you are again. You’re left with the taste of Jesus & Mary Chain’s 'Just Like Honey' in your mouth from album closer 'Gentle Sons'. But it’s definitely over. But just maybe you’re a better lover for it.

2009-01-19T05:05:00.000-08:00

ANTONY & THE JOHNSONS - THE CRYING LIGHT

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Antony aches for everything, so much so it’s difficult to keep up with; his voices just drips with it as if he’s permanently on the edge of tears. He’s captured that fleeting moment when a child falls over and its face turns from confusion to horror: just before the pain takes hold, and turned it into a voice.

He quivered his way through a brutally honest and yet beautifully poignant battle with gender stereotyping and how he could show his true self on 2005’s I Am A Bird Now – and as if as recognition of his personal victory, we gave him a Mercury. With that safely stowed on his mantle he’s turned his righteous crusade out onto the world around him – first on last year’s simmering Another World EP and now on this, his third album, The Crying Light.

He chose to tackle himself on his own, but for the world he has brought in Philip Glass protégé and sometime Bjork collaborator Nico Muhly on arrangement duty. Muhly helps give Antony’s previously stark vox and piano a new, depth swooping from the rich, grandiosity of Kiss My Name to the brittle, bleakness of Dust And Water. The effect of Muhly’s influence is similar to that of Van Dyke Parks on Joanna Newsom’s most recent record Ys – as Joanna proved she isn’t just a kooky girl with a harp, so Antony now proves he isn’t just a confused ‘man’ with a piano.

The Crying Light is racked with the common guilt for us ruining the world around us. Opener Her Eyes Are Underneath The Ground serves as a confession to mother nature for stealing a flower from her garden when he was a kid. And later he cries for a new day on Daylight And The Sun, as if we will never see another dawn if we continue as we are. Perhaps we should listen to him, we’re bad people after all. Ahem.

This mournful misery is not alone though: there is hope and even a touch of optimism. Stand out track Aeon holds the album’s most powerful and heart-rending moment when Antony’s usual falsetto gives way to an almost-manly bellow: “Without him I wouldn’t exist, hold the man that I love so much.” Then on One Dove there is a hint of forgiveness in the smooth saxophone as the starlight brings mercy.

The Crying Light is a truly beautiful record. It’s initial impact is not like that of his previous two albums, but this allows his genuine talent to begin to blossom. There is more to come from Antony.

2009-01-01T05:12:00.000-08:00

SPIDERMAN: WEB OF SHADOWS

Read the article on The Detour here...

For this, the latest take on the massive multi-million dollar Spiderman film franchise, Activision have gone off the script. Spiderman: Web Of Shadows sets itself free of the scripted film stories and offers you the chance to choose the outcome with some web-slinging and city-street fighting thrown in for good measure.

New York City has become overrun by a ‘deadly’ symbiote army lead by the eponymous Venom character and it is your job to curb their enthusiasm. As usual you have a wide array of swinging moves, fighting combos, web-related defences and offences at your disposal. But this time you can choose to don the black suit, and play as ‘emo’ spiderman who’s all power and brooding, and tentacles.

This is the big new thing – how much you choose to go to the dark side dictates your characters development in terms of new moves, how civilians react to you, which characters join your side and, ultimately, which path the game takes. Choose the red suit and you could be fighting alongside Wolverine, choose the black suit and you could be smooching The Black Cat… and causing Wolverine a whole heap of problems.

The gameplay is slick and swinging round the city raining chaos on endless bad guys is still a hell of a lot of fun – plus you can now fight wall-climbing symbiotes on the sides of buildings which can be a bit exciting. But the fighting is still limited and the dialogue is the worst thing since Spiderman 3.

You’ll find yourself using the same sequence of a few moves over and over again, only to be faced with another group of slightly more bad guys to work through in the same way. If that’s your bag then great but if you’re looking for something with a bit more edge then you’d best look elsewhere. While it seems like replayability would be high – finding out what would have happened if you’d chosen the red path – it just doesn’t seem worth it when it comes down to it. The intro sequence is the best thing about this one.

2008-10-20T05:17:00.000-07:00

PIT ER PAT - HIGH TIME

Read this article on Gigwise here...

You get the feeling that Pit Er Pat are being wilfully awkward with this, their new album 'High Time', but then again they are dubbed a ‘nu jazz’ outfit, and nu jazz is all about being awkward isn’t it? It’s a shame because the Pat’s previous records have been at times glorious and beautiful.

The band formed in Illinois in 2004 and have been putting out records on the Thrill Jockey imprint since 2005. They have avoided any real critical acclaim, preferring to hang on in the background, touring sporadically and gathering a hardcore following of a few.

'High Time' is more experimental than their previous album 'Pyramids', and the interim 'Covers EP'. The wilful awkwardness begins with the track names – with their opener called… well… something, the typing of which fails me. The song itself meanders along at a medium pace letting ideas drip in and out before becoming 'Evacuation Days' (the more familiarly titled second track) which threatens to become a song in its own right with a prominent injection of Fay Davis-Jeffers beautifully cute voice.

The album then thins out through some more experimental songs and some more lightweight jingles. The moments of promise are tender and evoke other attractive free-jazzers like Karate with drum lines stumbling over horns and keyboards - but when they float too freely they risk losing their grip and the listener with it.

Fay’s voice shows up far too scarcely, replaced in 'Copper Pennies' by a ridiculous laughter and then the less appealing tones of bassist Rob Doran. 'The Cairo Shuffle' is a return to the mathematical niceties of Pyramids with Butchy Fuego doing his stuff on a cowbell but all too soon we’re back to the throwaway nothingness of 'Creation Stepper'.

At it’s best 'High Time' touches on what Pit Er Pat are capable of but it’s feeling of laziness leaves you put out to say the least. Must try harder.

2008-10-13T05:23:00.000-07:00

FUCKED UP - THE CHEMISTRY OF COMMON LIFE

Read the article on Gigwise here...

Toronto’s Fucked Up are a force of nature. They are leading the charge for a resurgence of ‘balls out of the bath’ punk-hardcore and The Chemistry Of Common Life is their mission statement. Since forming back in 2001 they have courted they’re fair share of controversy and released a list of records as long as your arm, but it is only now that they’re enjoying (or not depending on what you read) ‘mainstream’ success on this side of the pond.

The members play under welcoming pseudonyms like Mustard Gas and Concentration Camp and they are Lead by the relentless Pink Eye whose rotund mug you may have seen gurning out of TV sets and magazine covers all over the shop in the run up to this release.

The Chemistry Of Common Life is not the onslaught you might have thought it would be though. The build up to opener 'Son The Father' is quaintly beautiful, and when it threatens to explode into hardcore ruthlessness, what comes is more punk rock anthem. It is these sensibilities that allow them to be so accessible, and that should ensure that 'The Chemistry...' endures where their more unhinged peers may have remained hidden.

The album is beautifully constructed and awash with musical flourishes that should satisfy the extremists (not the Nazis, an accusation the band refuted in 2004 after a split 7” with Haymaker had a picture of Hitler on the sleeve) who favour their more ‘out there’ moments like last year’s 18-minute single ‘year of the pig’. 'Magic Word' finishes with a growling Pink Eye crowing “Alright” in his best southern hick drawl, only to run into the sweet instrumental of 'Golden Seal'.

Further album highlights include the epic majesty of 'Royal Swan' which brings the bands female member (the aforementioned Mustard Gas) in to duet with Pink Eye in more eery sweetness. It takes the enormity of Isis’s Celestial and repackages it for a more human ear, without losing any of its credibility. Like Les Savy Fav bringing the sound of a thousand 'underground' post-hardcore bands to the ears of the masses with 'Let’s Stay Friends', 'The Chemistry Of Common Life' does the same for hardcore-punk. A triumph by all accounts.

2008-08-21T16:21:00.000-07:00

IN RESPONSE TO "TOM'S MAGIC BAG"

I too have a rucksack - quite a snazzy one now you mention it (see picture). It's got a moulded, mesh backing between you and the bag. In theory it increases breathability and prevents you from getting a sweaty back: it doesn't. It's also got a little pouch near the top for you to pop your mp3 into with a hole to thread the headphones through. The pocket is labelled with a musical note, which to my mind sets it up as a target for robbery - again, frustrating.

The relevance to the titularly-mentioned post is that my bag's main pouch has also broken. In my case the break is slightly different: the seam that runs alongside the main zip has broken free for about a foot in the middle and so it is permanently flapping open for all to see.

It's been like this for a while now - a month or so - and I have it in mind to buy a new one soon. It was only the other day that a particularly sour-faced kid (the sort I'd normally avoid eye-contact with as a matter of principle) called after me bullishly, "hey, mister!"

At first I ignored for all I was worth then, feeling his eyes boring into me, I turned and looked.

"Your bag's undone."

"Nah, it's fucked, thanks man," said with all the grace of a secondary school Mathematics teacher, was the best I could manage, as I slung it back into it's adopted position: strap on one shoulder and tucked under the arm belonging to that shoulder.

All that said, he has been the only person to let me know that my bag is open and yet I too have yet to lose anything from it. I sometimes wonder if its being open makes it less of a target as a) if I don't even close my bag, there can't be anything valuable in it - and b) the thrill of theft is in the challenge (or at least I guess it is): so take the challenge away and the thrill goes with it.

So, while my bag isn't magic - far from it - the experience of having it has been a similar one.

2008-06-25T06:38:00.000-07:00

SIGUR ROS, WESTMINSTER CENTRAL HALL

Read the article on gigwise here...

Read it on music world here...

Icelandic musical alchemists Sigur Ros hit the capital on the back of their long awaited new album ‘Meo Suo í Eyrum Vio Spilum Endalaust’ for one night only at the Central Hall in Westminster, just metres from the seat of government.

These fey thirty-somethings carry an air of excitement and expectation with them wherever they go and tonight's crowd are not disappointed.

There were five vast glowing orbs at the back of the Central Hall and a stage full of instruments in the middle. While the venue filled up, singer-songwriter (and trombonist in Sigur Ros) Helgi Jonsson took to the stage and strummed a few mediocre numbers with a fey frame and shy eyes, the best song being the penultimate one Dry Run taken from his Aska EP.

The lights dropped and the four lithe Skandinavian figures of Sigur Ros strode onto the stage – drummer Orri sporting a novelty crown and frontman Jonsi, a black tuxedo jacket with red-piping and tassles.

They opened with 'Svefn-G-Englar' - the first (real) song from their second album Agaetis Byrjun – and the crowd was rapt, Jonsi’s vocals soaring through the space effortlessly.

For the second song they were joined on stage by a strong quartet of Icelandic maidens, and then, as the music inevitable climbed, out walked a marching brass band, all dressed in pure white band uniforms.

Before Gigwise had rubbed our eyes they were gone again. The brass band returned a couple of songs later, just in time for ‘that one from the advert’ (Hoppipolla) during which they let loose tubes of ticker tape into the audience to up the epic ante.

Jonsi, Georg, Orri and Kjartan switched instruments effortlessly throughout the gig Jonsi seeming happiest when he was bowing his guitar, and creating the volcanic climaxes they are so famous for.

Before long they had played 14 indecipherabley named songs and decided to get the crowd involved, “We want you to clap” said Jonsi, and clap we did as the whole ensemble took to the stage beating drums, singing ‘las’ and tonking xylophones. Two giant electric fans launched streams of ticker tape into the vast Central Hall, not stopping until the air was full of music AND paper.

After the finale the crowd whooped and hollered so that they couldn’t not come back. They did, and played two more glorious songs before leaving again. The crowd, though tired and emotionally drained after two hours of beauty, continued to whoop and holler.

They came back on again to play one last beautiful, soaring song, before throwing their arms round each other, bowing a low bow and leaving once more.

2008-06-22T04:39:00.000-07:00

LACKTHEREOF - YOUR ANCHOR

Lackthereof is Danny Seim, drummer in Portland, Oregon’s indie starlets Menomena. It’s a different listening experience when you pick up a solo album by a supporting member of a band you know and like - different to a straight up album that is. And if you’ve only ‘heard of’ that band; there’s still a certain stigma attached. Even if you’ve never heard or ‘heard of’ that band, knowing they exist can send you wondering what they might be like. Of course you might not care to find out. But that’s your call.

But Lackthereof predate Menomena, and so it is in fact Menomena that is the side-project. Hell, Seim has released 8 previous Lackthereof albums dating back as far as 1998 (the first six of which were home recordings, but still, 8!).

Seim plays everything you hear on Your Anchor, which is no mean feat: there’s a lot going on here. He sings too, in a sort of Aidan Moffat of Scotch-indie miserablist marvels Arab Strap drawl, but with a more nasal American twang. He harmonises himself as well which lends the album a very 3 Eps era Beta Band flavour – vocal mantras build and fall without ‘kicking off’ or ‘rocking out’.

Your Anchor could easily be a full band’s album, and to play it live Seim would have to employ the services of some other musicians - if only he had two friends who thought in a similar way and could play instruments as well as he can… wait!? This could very well be Menomena. Sure it’s less playful, the voice is less varied – it is all the same one you know – and some of the avenues explored veer from the Menomena course. Ask Permission has a sweetly understated beatbox set over slide guitar and basslines that would have Stuart Braithwaite of Mogwai nodding his approval.

But too much has been made of the Menomena connection. Your Anchor is a controlled and beautiful record, shot through with knowing confidence. It is carefully organised to guide you emotionally through the album like when the echoed chanting of Choir Practice builds to the albums most up beat moment and is then followed by the aforementioned lull of Ask Permission. Seim even chooses to end with a stark cover of The National’s Fake Empire.

It’s the project’s most high profile release to date gaining US release on Barsuk whose other artists include… err… Menomena. At this rate it won’t be long before he is calling those two friends to help him get on stage… or maybe just Geddy Lee!

2008-06-03T06:25:00.000-07:00

SANTOGOLD - ALBUM REVIEW

Read the article on gigwise here...

Santi White AKA Santogold is all over it. She is in all the right magazines, on all the right websites, on the lips of all the right people, doing tunes with all right cats and getting all the right cats to do over her tunes – she is all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s just dropped one of the most pole-position pop records of the new millennium Gigwise just might have something to say on that, but she has, so we’ll back up.

Ms. White’s much documented history reads like a music A-Z. She came up in Philly before heading off to study Music at college in Connecticut. She then stumbled comfortably into an A & R role at Epic Records, the home of rock behemoth REO Speedwagon (who will have no further relevance to this article).

Bored with that she decided to write and produce, picking up the debut album of little known R&B artist Shareese Renee Ballard AKA Res. Still not content to sit still Santi then turned her tongue to punk-rock, fronting Philly-band Stiffed who released a couple of albums before she was picked up to… ‘go solo’.

A few singles, a typhoon of good press and some tidy timing brings us to now, and to this album: self-titled and all. Santi is keen to shout down anyone looking to drop an R&B tag next to her name, fair enough, this isn’t R&B.

Santogold (the album) is a hell of a lot of different things – from the grimy reggae bounce of Unstoppable to the bouncy reggae grime of Shove It: “We think you’re a joke, shove your hope where it don’t shine” – but they all shine together. You may know the singles – Strokes-esque album-opener LES Artistes and the squeal laden mash-up Creator have graced our ears from the small screen on beer and hair adverts for a while now.

Perhaps this is Santi’s commercial knowse coming through, or maybe she just wants to get the tunes out there. Despite getting them out there, and with much more gay abandon than her stablemates, she is still bathed in credibility by the alt news sheets.

This brings us back to those damn fine tunes again. Those pimped out singles make way on the album for a good breadth of coverage. I’m A Lady sounds like The Pixies fronted by a girl, but doesn’t sound like the Breeders – and it lives up to that canon brilliantly. Say A-Ha on the other hand, sounds like it could be Girls Aloud if Nicola had a gruff sister.

There is not a song under four minutes here, and not a filler in sight, just like pop should be. Well done Santi, well done.

2008-05-20T06:29:00.000-07:00

A. HUMAN - THIRD HAND PROPHECY

Read the original article on gigwise here...

Five humans make up goth-disco champions A.Human all with the handy surname Human to underline this fact (although we suspect this is less Jackson 5 and more The Ramones). There’s Mellay, C More, K, BE, J and Dave which translates to four lads and a gal. They hail from as far afield as Denmark but they came together over a common-disillusion-with-modernity pint in a Clerkenwell drinking den.

They release 'Third Hand Prophecy' in the wake of a couple of tidy singles – 'Horse With No Name' (a cover of a country song by America, given a beat and blip overhaul) and 'Black Moon' – and some canny touring with the likes of label mates Art Brut and dancefloor megalith Shy Child. This is the first album, and a fine collection of sounds it is too.

Dave Human’s voice has a religious quality; deep and booming yet clean and clear. It hits you like Ian Curtis when he first opened his mouth on Granada Reports, or like the chap from 80s Matchbox B-Line Disaster (remember them? Goth-punk-noiseniks with a liking for tasty motors) when he wasn’t yelling. He’s got a way with words too that Dave Human – weaving tales of drear and disrepute in songs like 'Bedsit On Fire' and 'Golden Mile', or the tale of a man called Tony’s untimely death at the hands of a reality TV star’s estranged wife in 'Black Moon'.

The other four Human’s set about creating layers of synth-heavy, bassy krautrock for Dave to sing over and the result is pretty confusingly positive. Far from flooring you with misery, A.Human get the feet moving and the crowd jumping. This stinging wash of dance-friendly beat and shoegazy guitars is thanks in part to producer Tim Holmes: the man responsible for some of Spiritualised and Primal Scream’s best work – and helps keep 'Third Hand Prophecy' radio-friendly.

Amid all the misery, there is a rallying message and a knowing, black-comic smile. There’s light at the end of the tunnel: The Post Post Modern Anxiety Blues' are not something to wallow in, they’re a catalyst for change; the epic,11 minute album finisher reminds that the 'Sun Will Rise'; and in the title track Dave Human proudly announces that 'Third Hand Prophecy' will “light up the room.” It just might you know!

2008-03-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

MIT - CODA

read the article on gigwise here...

JA! MIT are German. They play electronic music. They sound like Neu! And Kraftwerk. Of course they do: they’re German and they play electronic music. Their name must have something more symbolic to it than being simply the German for WITH but I don’t want to know it. Their lyrics must have some English translation but they sounds so shitting good in German that who could possibly give a horse’s cock what they mean either.

This isn’t music for understanding. This is marching music. This is dark marching music. Dark dancing music. Dancing in the dark music. We want to learn German if only to sing along, chant along and fall into line. “Sie heisen mir Herr Bombastisch, sehr fantastisch, herr liebhaber, liebhaber!”

MIT’s tunes unashamedly reference their German predecessors, wallowing in the filth left behind by their older stablemates. But they grab from elsewhere too, to keep things fresh, and to be there own man (-machine). Opener ‘Beispeil’ comes on with some of the tribal fury Liars have chosen to inject into their recent efforts, and Holy Fuck have claimed for their own.

Elsewhere the mash of glitch and vocal manipulations has more in common with Boards of Canada like on ‘Gibt Es Denn Keine Anderen Grund’ where whispering cries and snips of incongruous sound mix with endless repetition. Perhaps the most pertinent reference point is Suicide – electronic punk rock, words as weapons. ‘Merz’ has the beat to get you moving, and move you must, but MIT don’t make it easy – rejecting catchy hooks in favour of mantra-like repetition, doom-laden builds and damning cries.

The finest moment here comes after a good 35 minutes when ‘Rauch’ pipes up with a textbook example of how to get the body going. The Drums bounce off each other, the synths swirl, the bass pulses and the keynotes skip across the top with effortless taste.

While not for the faint-hearted Coda is an intense and rewarding trip. Wunderbar!

2008-03-19T07:47:00.000-07:00

MALCOLM MIDDLETON - SLEIGHT OF HEART

read the article on gigwise here...

“This is shit, and that is shit, and being shit is great.” Good to see that Malc is his usual cheery, fun-packed self. After years playing with Aidan Moffat in Scotch indie miserablist-heroes Arab Strap Middleton has now released four albums, that is if you include this one? The nine-songs here were conceived during the recording of MalMid’s last album 'A Brighter Beat', and while that smacks of a cash-in, it’s only when you take into account the unlikelihood of MaMi selling enough records to break even that you realise that this record is more than likely pure of aim.

Following on from the (slightly) lifted mood of his last record MM’s tunes here are sung with a valium smile; real hope is for idiots after all. He is showing no sign of ditching the melancholy altogether, it’s too much a part of what he’s about, but the self-consciousness of previous efforts has been replaced by measured contentment or at least acceptance that things are getting better.

“It’s easy hating yourself, it’s hard making it rhyme,” he reasons in deceptively chirpy opener ‘The Week’. He’s got a point. It’s easy to me miserable, but it’s fooking hard to do it well. It’s the audacity of releasing an album of songs taken from the sessions of another record, complete with three Malcolmised covers that cements this new-found confidence. He knows that he can do miserable well and he’s showing off by being less miserable.

Sleight Of Heart has drinking anger: ‘Blue Plastic Bags’, love anger: ‘Love Comes In Waves’, and even Madonna anger: ‘Stay’. He claims King Creosote’s ‘Marguerita Red’ and Jackson C. Frank’s ‘Just Like Anything’ for his own and there is still enough time to slip in a few numbers aching with Jenny Reeve’s crying violin.

You get the feeling he could knock these songs out in his sleep, but therein lies the charm of this record. It has none of the care of his previous records but somehow sounds more genuine for it.

2008-02-20T06:11:00.000-08:00

BLACK KIDS INTERVIEW

See the original article, as published on gigwise, here...

Unless you have been living under a rock for the past few months, you can’t help but have heard of Black Kids. Unlike some other tips for 2008 who are just vacuous hype and hot air (no mention, Adele), Black Kids have the tunes and the talent to match the plaudits. In fact, we’re willing to hedge a bet that they could develop into something very special indeed. Gigwise duly caught up with Kevin and Reggie from the band at London’s ULU at the tail end of their recent UK promotional stint to discuss all.

“In the beginning it was awkward, especially for those of us who weren’t black,” says drummer Kevin Snow with a cautious smile creeping across his lips. “There were times when real black kids would ask us what our band name was and Owen and I would just avoid the question and say ‘oh, you won’t have heard of us’.”

Incredibly, ‘In the beginning’ was only six months ago, when soaring, doo-wop-pop rockers Black Kids were content playing local indie discos in their hometown Jacksonville. Back then few people would have heard of them but now it’s all changed - they’re managed by Scott Rodger (He of Arcade Fire fame), signed to Almost Gold Records (an indie spin-off of major label Mercury), touring with the likes of Sons & Daughters and Kate Nash. And all this before going in to the studio next month to record they’re debut album with Bernard Butler. A lot can happen in six months.

Explaining their roots, charismatic frontman Reggie reveals the band started out at Sunday School; “I think the first time I noticed those guys was when we all had to bow our heads for prayer and I was there just head up, looking around, and I saw one kid over there, head up, looking around, and we just thought, let’s start a band.”

Reflecting upon their fellow Florida bands, including Limp Bizkit, Reggie affirms “It’s a very diverse scene. There’s this really dirty rap duo called Heavy Flow. They’re just the filthiest girls I’ve ever met; they have a song called ‘a blowjob is still a job, and I’m gonna work my ass off’!” (you heard it here first Gigwise readers).

“Also there’s a group called Buffalo Star and they’re really great: it’s kind of a small scene of four people and we’re all in these bands really,” he continues, cutting a sideways glance at Kevin that suggests they could be making it all up.

After too long playing the backing tracks on an iPod, Reggie got his little sister Ali to join, and with her came best friend Dawn. “It’s cool in a way, because I don’t think we would hang around otherwise,” says Reggie, glancing over at his sister. “I was aware that my sister was more talented than I was and I thought, how can I use that to my advantage? So we brought her into the fold, discovered her friend was a pianist and basically manipulated that situation to our advantage.”

Indeed, they’ve done well with manipulating things. When good friend and local gig promoter Brendan needed a band to play the local Athens Pop Fest (not to be confused with AthFest) he knew who to turn to. “We went to it and played about two o’clock in the afternoon, and it was a tiny venue: really low-key,” says Kevin, carefully squeezing any glamour out of the affair.

It turns out that in among the hundred or so people who turned out were a couple of prominent Uni bloggers. “They raved about our live performance and they said the recording was shit, and so everyone was like ‘oh, these guys must be badass live!’” says Reggie with a nostalgic smile, “and then we played at CMJ and everyone was like, ‘the recording was good but live they’re shit!”

The hype has spiralled from there. “I think we’re just too provincial to recognise that we should feel pressure,” smiles Reggie, shrinking a little at the suggestion that they are even under pressure. “It’s daydreams all of it, we’re just like ‘fucking eh! We’re doing it’. I just can’t see us failing… oh man, it’s gonna be such a hard blow when it happens.”

He sounds a bit like a Big Brother winner peeping through the doors back in to the real world; all full of belief that the nation has voted for them, but still aware that the bottom could drop out at any moment. “Obviously we want to be around for a while, we’ve got a load of great songs,” says Reggie. Perhaps this is why they’ve signed to Almost Gold records rather than any of the others vying for their names on the dotted line. “They just seemed to get us from the get go: we want to be around for a while and they see that, cos you know, we don’t want to be a flash in the pan.”

They speak with a similar trepidation about their band name. Black Kids is both an innocent nod to a lyric in Reggie’s favourite Hefner song (The Baggage Reclaim Song), and a statement about white folks who avoid the truth. It’s a strong contrast, but then being called Black Kids in a town in deep-south Bible-belt America somehow has deeper connotations than if they were from Totnes.

Kevin explains that when bassist Owen worked for the local Alt Weekly he found an e-mail sent in to the Mayor of Jacksonville’s office. “She was complaining about these kids that were playing basketball and were being kind of loud. She just referred to them as ‘kids who play basketball’ but it was really clear she meant ‘young black males’.” Rather than call themselves ‘kids who play basketball’, “it’s just obviously not a good name,” asserts Reggie, “we thought let’s just call it like it is: ‘Black Kids’.”

Florida is responsible for sports metal pioneers Limp Bizkit, but if the Wizard Of Aaahs EP (their only release to date!) is anything to go by they have chosen not to tread in their peers’ footsteps. The EP drips with lovelorn wonderment and childlike hankering after girls.

When asked what they’re trying to say Kevin jumps in first, “It’s like ‘how Reggie tried to impress the girls and failed part one… part two… part three’,” and then sits back laughing. Reggie takes the bait to defend his libido, “No! hey I don’t want to give the wrong impression, I do [get girls] okay. There are a lot of angry husbands looking for me.”

They’re heading into the studio with ex-Pulper, and thorough Brit, Bernard Butler, “We did our first two singles with him and he’s a real pleasure to work with,” says Pulp fan Kevin. “The album will be good if ten singles makes a good album,” harps Reggie with nervous defiance, “There’s this supposed hype that we have to survive and then we’re gonna be around for a long time.”

2008-01-15T06:52:00.000-08:00

SUPER TENNIS/GIANT PAW, LONDON BUFFALO BAR

Read the article on channel 4 music here...

We've often reflected that there isn't enough sport in music, so when we heard about a band called Super Tennis, we thought we had better dispatch our roving reporter Harold Shiel to the field of play to find out the score.

In the sporting corner of London that is Highbury, the first set (WARNING: excessive tennis puns to follow - Ed) of the night comes from Giant Paw: a mind-bending collective of conspiracy theorists who probably spend their spare time searching for the beast of Bodmin Moor.
After littering the stage with terrifying monster masks they proceed to plough a musical furrow somewhere between late eighties no-wave and early nineties rave (Neu Order anyone?). The results are literally astounding, although at times it sounds like three records playing at once, never a good thing.

Bob, Tom and Kev from Super Tennis hardly rule the stage, but their finely-crafted songs float between intricacy and agit-pop fun, replete with claps and cries for the kids to latch onto. The girls are soon swooning and despite over-indulgence on the knob twiddling, the simple pop melodies are 'ace'. (You've been warned - Ed)

Drummer Bob dedicates the gig to The Bill's troubled PC Reg Hollis before serving up opener 'Deuce Love'. After a playful start the song opens up into an epic flourish, rumbling in the stomach and swirling around the room.

A few songs later a Magic Number bustles about the venue smiling at everyone. Perhaps bewildered by the beaming smile, the band realise they don't know how long they're on for, and with no one stepping up to tell them otherwise, they threaten to play ten more songs.

Tonight's standout is 'Super Tennis Theme', which has a marching beat and claps to get the crowd moving and singing like Sir Cliff Richard on Centre Court. "S-U-P-E-R T-E-N-N-I-S T-O-N-I-G-H-T" they cry in unison before thanking each other rather than the crowd, and we file out into a volley of rain full of love. (You're fired - Ed)

2007-12-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

NME AWARDS 2007 LAUNCH NIGHT, LONDON INDIGO2

Read the article on channel 4 music here...

With Take That rocking out next door in the mindzone (or whatever it's now called) of the Millennium Dome (or whatever it's now called) there are some jealous glances over the hall as we are forced to head into the little IndigO2 (this IS what it's called) for the launch of the NME Awards. The IndigO2 is not your average venue: housed in one corner of the Dome's enormity, it feels like the room set aside for roller-discos at your local sports centre, writes Harold Shiel.

Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong stumble through a quick set that suffers from the lack of character in Joe Lean's voice, but they look pretty cool.

Whispers that something is missing filter through to our ears just at the same time as presenter George Lamb announces that the surprise headliners "might be Babyshambles!" (woop woop, cheer cheer). It turns out the whispers are facts; ol' Dead Eyes Doherty has pulled not a guitar, but a snotty tissue, from his pork-pie hat and cried off sick.

The Wombats take the stage, and the crowd by the scruff of the neck and turn up the pace with wonderful jangle pop. A kind of Busted for the cool kids. Singer Murph leads them through triumphant favourites 'Moving To New York' and 'Kill The Director', and a whirlwind set is extended to include 'Let's Dance To Joy Division'.

The biggest cheer of the night is saved for Jamie. Not heard of him? Jamie is the Babyshambles fan that their long-suffering bassist Drew McConnell dragged out of the crowd to play and sing and great rendition of 'Carry On Up The Morning', in a remarkably accurate Pete voice.

Drew and drummer Adam Ficek bravely played a set that included covers of 'Janie Jones' by The Clash and (Nirvana favourite) 'Molly's Lips' by The Vaselines, joined by Josh Hubbard from the Paddingtons.

We guess this means there'll be no more cancelled 'Shambles gigs now the band have a sub on the bench.

2007-11-28T07:06:00.000-08:00

DIGITALISM, LONDON KCLSU

read the article on channel 4 music here...

This 'dance' music resurgence is great, isn't it? Not washed-out, 'love rhymes with dove' dance music - but d-a-n-c-e music - music you can really dance to! Like it or not, nu rave has paved the way for techno and house to brush the dust off their glowsticks and head back to the clubs where they belong. Digitalism are one of the spearheads and these two Germans with an ear for a good riff know how to party.

Tonight's sellout crowd is testament to this; the trendies queue up right down the street in the driving rain, blissfully unaware of the England football team's best efforts to ruin the night for everyone, everywhere (except in Croatia).

The crowd lurch back and forth, index-fingers held aloft and floppy fringes swinging away, as Digitalism deliver a set of modern classics. From behind their hurriedly knocked together 'DJ stand' (it looks like something out of a cooking demo at a village fete) Digitalism hit the ground running playing single 'Pogo' two songs in, closely followed by album title track 'Idealistic'.

Frustratingly, there is very little room to shake your thing. As soon as we secure some space to put our 'moves' into practice the next wave of people hankering for a better view cramp our style.

Something is amiss on stage too. Digitalism give it some, but not all. Jens Moelle, a sort of Gareth-from-The-Office-with-a-smile type announces, in classic broken English, "I have a bit of cold and so you will have to help me to make the party!" but his vocals suffer. His partner Ismail Tuefecki does his best to make up the deficit, batting his drum like a dwarf in a Gunter Grass novel, but it's not quite enough.

After threatening to peak too early they play out with strong album highlights 'Zdarlight' and the euphoric 'Jupiter Room' confirming they have got the tunes. But they are tired and struggle to entertain with their knob twiddling performance. Tonight would have been a fantastic club night, but as a gig it fell some way short.

2007-11-13T06:46:00.000-08:00

A. HUMAN, METROCLUB

Read the article on channel 4 music here...

Formed through disillusioned work chat in a Clerkenwell boozer A.Human look every part the 20-something Londoners: four crisp-fringed boys and one cute girl, all dressed in funereal black like some sort of trendy wake.

A broody opener gives way to the instantly catchy, Inspiral Carpets-esque single 'Horse With No Name' and suddenly the band come alive. The blips and beeps that combine with the riffs are given extra spice by frontman Dave Human's Ian Curtis meets Brandon Flowers voice. Dave is a sexy geek. Fact.

His act is pure American preacher: all righteous indignation and fiery eyes. Strangely-named guitarist Mellay Human has a touch of a young Elvis about him and while he sings answers to Dave's sermon an eager crowd begins to move.

"Follow me! Follow me!" yells the sexy geek and judging by the eager eyes watching him you begin to think people would literally follow him up the road if he started walking.

And why not? The goth glitchy disco outfit are playing an assured set and Dave displays a winning sense of humour announcing: "I'm gonna be bigger than Jean Claude Van Damme!"

He then adds: "Soon it'll be Friday, but today is only Monday, and they say that you'll be OK, but they don't realise you've given up anyway." Cue the best song about the frustrations of working 9 to 5 since Dolly Parton plus Dave dancing with the nearest worshipping girl.

All too soon we are played out with a soulful number bemoaning the post-postmodern blues and the night is over. No need for encores, just sit back and let it sink in.

A.Human have got some wind in their black sails at the moment and with an album out in January we think 2008 could be their year.

2007-07-06T08:18:00.000-07:00

CARIBOU - ANDORRA

read the article on amelia's here...

Brian Wilson danced gaily on the brink of insanity creating the dream-pop genre before slipping into the abyss and being rightfully branded a genius while there. Dan 'Caribou' Snaith's third record eschews the same sort of floating majesty that Wilson rolled out, chopped up and popped into his pipe.

Snaith completed a Maths PhD when on the road with the Super Furry Animals plugging his second album The Milk of Human Kindness. He traveled the world from the UK to North America and from Eastern Europe to China, soaking up eastern mysticism, Balkan bombast, American surf-pop and British sensibility as he went to produce this carefully constructed gaggle of tunes.

Andorra, the country that serves as the album's namesake, is a tiny state in the Pyrenees firmly lodged between France and Spain. The characters in the album were all dreamed up during Snaith's time there. Desiree, Niobe, Sandy, Eli, Irene, they are all running around Snaith's mind, crystal clear in his imagining, and poured fourth surrounded by carefully textured ambient songscapes.

Snaith is on a quest to cut the bullshit. He just loves lump in your throat pop songs, songs that draw the emotions to the fore, songs you can get lost. But we all love those songs, don't we? Any song that draws a bit of nostalgia up, conjures a wistful sigh - an image of a lover past, just sits nicely in the ear. For me it's Sundialing, but there's a sense that there could be a song here for everyone, a rare feat.

The music swims like Beaches & Canyons era Black Dice, with the mathematic precision of genre stalwarts Boards of Canada. Nothing is surplus to demand, but you just can't imagine how he decided it would work, it just does. The vocal is like the aforementioned Brian Wilson if he met The Beta Band and formed a barbershop quartet. Quite beautiful stuff.

2007-05-30T15:59:00.000-07:00

I'VE GOT ADEZ

On the day the Big Brother eight house went monosexual the Unilever marketing department have amazed and astounded in equal measure by bringing out a fruit juice called AdeZ.

Imagine the scene: like one of those surprisingly bearable Barclays adverts where the keen, young sales scamp comes up with an idea which is universally scoffed at by his contemporaries due to it being 'far too outlandish'. Then, lo and behold' the exec turns on a sixpence surprising everyone except the thirty million people watching, and loves it!

I like to think the Unilever advert played out something like this:

Seven sharp suited young bucks are sat round an enormous, shiny, black, granite-effect table in the middle of just one floor of the Unilever tower in central London. They are variously chewing gum and making smug eyes at one another across the table as the camera pans around them and on to the gent holding the meeting. As he turns around he looks flustered, there are some scribblings on a flipchart with crossed our words like "megajuice" or "soyajoy." He throws his hands down on the table and the camera draws to an abrupt halt zooming in on his face. A quick glance around the now attent faces.

Manager: "so, is that all we've got? I'm gonna go round the room one more time, now, IMPRESS ME!"

Employee 1: "superjuice"

Employee 2: "liquidluxury"

Employee 3: "sexysauce?"

Manager (about to erupt): "sexysauce! what the hell is that, we're not making porn here! is that all you guys have got?"

Then in saunters our hero looking bedraggled and stuttering apologies across the room as he rushes to take his seat. There is deep sadness in his eyes and he sits with a slump.

Manager: "well Dave, I'm glad you could join us, so... what have got?"

Dave (still will distance in his eyes and in a tone suggesting coming to terms with something): "I've got Aids..."

The room falls silent, everyone looks sheepishly around at each other lost for words. The manager however, swings round to look at the flipchart. The two either side of Dave lean in to commiserate him when the manager whirls back around with a smile on his face.

Manager: "YES dave, yes! I love it, that's brilliant, we'll call the juice AdeZ! it's so ironic, so pure, so 'je ne sais quoi.' The germans will love it, everyone will love it, you're a genius, have yourself a raise!"

Dave (mumbled to himself as if 'the punchline'): "there's not much point"

A single tear rolls down his cheek and as the camera pulls away he begins to cry, the two either side hug him in turn and the manager scrawls in big letters ADEZ on a fresh page of the flipchart, jumping about and cheering.

This is amazing, unilever grabbed the baton of idiocy from Anusol's outstretched hand to run the next leg of the bad marketing relay. idiots.

2007-03-03T17:14:00.000-08:00

AND THE BEAT GOES ON...

this is yet another video pouring forth from my lens... check it.

2007-02-28T08:52:00.000-08:00

THE SMELL OF SUCCESS

I can safely say that my house smells bad, that my room smells worse, and that this vexes me. This has got me to thinking about smells and that oft-asked question, "what's your favourite smell," with the classic answer: "freshly-cut grass."

I have taken to Chinese culture/life/everything with an unexpected fervour of late (when I say 'of late,' I really mean over the last few years, but either way the point still stands). this has extended from history via language to the culture and more specifically...THE FOOD! I bloody love Chinese food.

It would be foolish to say that all Chinese food smells good: this is not the case. Having walked around the streets of many a Chinese town last Summer I can say with some authority that some Chinese food smells worse than shit. There is however one smll that has improved my life forever.

I did a brief cookery course in Yangshuo and it was here that my eyes (and nostrils) were opened. Sesame oil comes with a smell sent from heaven. On opening the bottle you are teased with a hint at the smell but it is not until you splash the wok and turn on the heat that the true heavenly aroma is revealed!

From now on I know, without a doubt what my answer to that question will be, and if you've read this far, then so do you.

2007-02-27T09:31:00.000-08:00

It's all happening now! here is video number two, the magic just keeps coming!

hope this works too...

2007-02-12T07:08:00.000-08:00

Back Once Again for the Renegade Master

Look who's back, back again, Harold's back, tell a friend. No, don't bother telling a friend because I can almost guarantee that they could not care less. That is not my concern however. This video is my first tentative steps into the world of broadcast journalism.

We headed down to Porthcawl on a mission for Wild magazine and it was quite a lot of fun, well, see for yourself below.

I hope you enjoy and I now intend to reclaim the art of Bloggery.

2006-12-07T06:57:00.000-08:00

WITH REFERENCE TO WILLIAM DEAN.
I have been called to display my top ten albums. A bit of a scary prospect, I find it a bloody nightmare to do at the best of times. Now the pressure of publicly displaying a list that I will probably want to change completely tomorrow and the next day and so on, is palpable.

but anyway, enough whinging... here is my list, (I can't promise it will be in order of preference: that's just too much to ask....stop Whinging!!!!):

1) 90 Day Men - To Everybody
2) Mogwai - CODY
3) At the Drive-In - In/Casino/Out
4)Owls - Owls
5) Cerberus Shoal - Homb
6) Isis - Celestial
7) Low - Things We lost In The Fire
8) Neutral Milk Hotel - In The Aeroplane, Over The Sea
9) Wolf Parade - Apologies To Queen Mary
10) Black Dice - Beaches and Canyons

2006-11-28T03:27:00.000-08:00

WITH REFERENCE TO CHRISTOPHER MATTHEW WHITE.
I would like to display the ten things that I would never do...

So, I would never...

1) ...have a period. More due to natural selection than choice, but even given the choice I'd opt out, doesn't sound like a lot of fun.
2) ...Set fire to myself or anyone else who didn't deserve it, I mean imagine the process, you'd just have to step back and look at yourself. "What am I doing, this is just really going to hurt."
3) ...Watch another episode of Torchwood. I put this in tentatively on the basis that I probably will, but I really don't want to. It's devillishly compelling but essentially tripe.
4) ...indulge in coitus with an animal or a child... it's just not worth the bother.
5) ...take off all my skin to reveal the truth behind my human facade.
6) ...play Hockey again.
7) ...use ear-buds to clean my ears again, despite the cravings and the temporary bliss. This is the second time I have goven myself an ear infection... idiot.
8) ...survive a nuclear war.
9) ...knowingly put money into the Bono coffers, either by buying a U2 record (god forbid) or staying near a place that has ever played a U2 song or thought about doing. that might not be very workable, but the sentiment is sound.
10) ...eat worms.

2006-11-25T18:14:00.000-08:00

HEATHCLIFF, IT'S ME I'M CATHY. COME HOME! IT'S SO CO-O-O-OLD, LET ME INTO YOUR WINDOW.

That title bears no relevance to the content of this post yet it was just screaming to be involved, for what serious, God-fearing blog is complete without a Kate Bush reference? I have now to render fruitless the first statement of the previous sentence by bringing relevance to the title.

On the way back from the NUS/Press Association media awards today we of the Quench/Gair Rhydd runners-up team (except that Geordie one and his "I'm so bloody diverse" award) worked our way through an amazing array of songs including Wuthering Kate Bush's Heights. It was a wonderful experience replete with some spectacular word-forgetting and tune betrayal.

The event itself had it's ups and downs but was largely a good craic. Rajesh Mirchandani set proceedings off with a touch of class yet that class was rapidly revealed to be phony when the three women from the Sheila's Wheels adverts rolled out to sing some covers. I'd rather listen to a tape recording of my own death.

Why this was arranged I will never know but the DJ made up for it by crippling to our team's Widetop inspired clamourings for My Chemical Romance. Raise a glass to the Warwick Boar: hats off.

2006-11-23T07:01:00.001-08:00

*SADLY MIST
Due to prior commitments I was forced to miss the performance by our very own Daniel Meadows. Bad news as I quite fancied the prospect of Daniel's Meadow hitting Birt's Acre for a slew of pastural Online Media debate.

Here is what I can garner from my peers' musings:

Journo's Journey: Capture Wales is Daniel's brainchild which seeks to give a voice to anyone with vocal chords on the basis that "every story is of interest to someone somewhere."
Emma Barnett: "The basic notion is that if people have the tools to create their own content, they will do that, and that this will result in an emerging global conversation." A quote from Dan Gilmour's book: We The Media which sums up the impetus behind Mr. Meadow's project.
Through a Glass, Sharply: Meadows and Burton should really sit down and hammer one out.
Hard Blogging: A raised glass to the championing of the little man. There is no need for these stories to offer anything new or ground-breaking, they are fine as mere curios, they need be no more, and that is not to belittle them by any means.
"death of the author"...?: The Capture Wales team were astonished by the honesty of the people involved and how much they were willing to give. I like this idea that people have a genuine desire to tell their stories and this is a viable platform for that to happen.
Will Dean: didn't see it either, he was busy smooching Lauren Laverne.
The Sparkly World of Alexis: Trainee Journalist: "everyone has a story to tell but not everyone can master the QWERTY keyboard." Meadows argues that this is a reason to give them the means to tell that story. Alexis also raises the debate over Meadows' lecture style (reading from a script) causing a rift in the MagLab.
James Franey's Blog: Deaf ears for Meadows' preaching. His assertion that everyone has a voice should rely on that voice being presented well and succinctly. Capture Wales is not that.
The Dirty World Of Student Journalism: Another fellow absconder. On looking at the site it is less journalism than an extension of blogs and online networking providing a nice ccounterpoint to traditional News websites.
Gecko Writer: Meadows claimed that Capture Wales was the only truly interactive form of media on TV, and only in Wales. This may be the case now but the future's bright, the future's riddled with something called UGC(?)
R & R: If viewed through marketing goggles the Digital Storytelling concept Meadows is peddling falls flat on its lens. If nothing of immediate value is being contributed by Digital Storytelling, does it have a legitimate and sustainable place in the media world?
Melmoth's Wanderings: Reading a thesis on 'interactivity' word-for-word with your eyes down, does present an illuminating irony. The wheat must be separated from the chaff in order to push Digital Storytelling forward.
I am Serious, and Don't Call me Shirley: With reference to the BBC's VideoNation equivalent project of some years ago the content on Capture Wales appears to have regressed in quality.
The Beard: The best of the Capture Wales crop makes it onto the BBC2W graveyard slot: an opportunity for the media moguls to make money without having to produce the content themselves. Sadly the content only ranges from enlightening to utterly mundane.
The Lord Blog: Ignoring the advances of the new media realm is ignoring the world around you and most importantly your audience. Some 'moving' images from Daniel Meadows.
The Boy With a Pipe: Capture Wales is destined for the periphery, in light of more accessible community based websites like Youtube and Myspace. What is the role of the editor in these UGC creations... when does your free voice become distorted?
Kate Mallord: The potential problem of digital exclusion stretches beyond physical means as even if the world was given a videophone, the Murdochs and Googles could still exploit their output.
The Melting Pot: How far is UGC actually threatening Journalists, it's not as if someone who phones in a mass of police surging down their road is asked to produce a report asap (and pronounce that as it sounds not as separate letters... it's so much more powerful that way). One fifth of British people can't still can't use a computer, so getting onto the streets is still viable.
Emily Newsom: Online Reflection: Most 'interactive' services are, in actual fact, only 'reactive' according to Meadows. Pressing you red button, text votes and the like are just cynical tokenism. Capture Wales is truly interactive.
Seventy Percent Nostalgia: how will we sort thorugh the detritus on offer in order to find the genuinely worthwhile stuff? The media 'newser' has no real impact what with the domination by the Murdochs of the media playground.
Thinking Cap On: The journalist has a right to protect his or her trade rather than hand over the pen to any illiterate or disadvantaged person out there, just like a surgeon wouldn't hand the knife to a pedestrian and take a back seat.
Diary of a Madman: Why is this project a threat? people are only going to look and listen if they want to, if it grabs them, if it's interesting! As meadows pointed out the established media fraternity knows what its people want and can give it to them. If the media wants Daniel's stuff then so be it... but don't hold your breath.
Media Musings: Journalists must be as apt at telling stories for themselves as for other people. "News is people," said Harold Evans (good first name... pity about the surname) and therefore surely interactive "peoples" media must work alongside traditional reactive media.
On The Cut: None of this is new; the concept of real people creating video; the concept of 'newsers' deciding what is newsworthy and what isn't; the hype attached to new media formats. attention spans are waning and hype is increasing, it's getting more and more difficult to find good reading.
Rutherford's Tiny Tiny Mind: by Meadows' own admission these digital stories are a turn off but his enthusiasm for the cause was a turn on. The line needs to be drawn on relevance, and what one wants to gain from the journalistic experience, whether one wants to tell other peoples' stories or their own.
Severs' Blog: These stories could provide a resource for news gatherers to pick up ideas but will never have the general appeal needed to succeed on a larger platform. They are too small-fry and introspective.
Chris Whit e: Yet another fellow absconder but with fairly passed comment. The recognised media needn't lower its standards to cater for this form of "news" as the people haven't exhibited a desire for it. They are happy with Youtube and the like for these purposes.
Journalism Blog 2006-2007 or: How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Blog: A fine and professional talk from a well-versed online impressario. These videos are snapshots of life and this can only be a good thing.

Well, that succinctly sums up the views of my esteemed peers, and I hope I have done them all justice. Anyone who feels hard done by can happily take it up with my online lawyer.

So what do I think about the dawn of Digital Storytelling (if it can be called the dawn)? It is covenient that Dan Worth is so alphabetically chaallenged as it is with him that I am most in agreement. While I can see that the inclusion of these everyman video stories into the journalistic sphere and expecting people to take an active interest may be a bridge too far. The concept of bringing these methods of entry to the unwashed masses is definitely a good thing.

People are demanding more and more input and they are now getting it, with evermore options for feedback, and not just this but a chance to develop from a story on their own terms. It seems a bit naive to expect quality across the board but the option should be available and naybe the fact that the good ones are hard to find among the bad ones could itself be solved by the users...

ratings systems.
hit logs.
comments.

these and more allow the better ones to stand out of their own volition without needing an editor to sift, while the weaker efforts fall by the wayside. In Dan's words (Worth, not Meadows):

"If this new age of user-generated content is opening up avenues of artistic creation to those who would never have even thought about it before then how can it be anything but a positive thing?"

2006-11-23T06:19:00.001-08:00

FEATURE IDEA

Zac Crain for Mayor of Dallas! I intend to investigate the Blog as a legitimate political platform as compared to the traditional media. How far is it possible to run a campaign for very little money via the internet using New Media avenues for your advertising and link to the voters?

Zac Crain is essentially trying to do just this. He has had interviews with local Dallas Bloggers and within which he has discussed the legitimacy of the blog, I hope to contact him to conduct an interview of my own. I will also look at the impact of Webcameron, and 18 Doughty Street as viable political media.

With online politicising there is a whole new audience of young web savvy politically turned off readers. Is this a perfect resource for the aspiring candidate if they can motivate that force to their aid.

Can the Blog ever be viewed as equal to the newspaper as a political platform?

2006-11-22T18:20:00.000-08:00

TURK A LOOK AT THIS
The people at Wolong Panda Reserve near Chengdu in China are inundated with pandas and so I feel i must make it my mission to help them out by adopting as many as possible, so here is Dirk's brother Turk, fresh out of the cramped container off the rubbish plane...

adopt your own virtual pet!

Good luck to him!

2006-11-19T02:55:00.000-08:00

COOEE BONO!
Bono Vox is a blackhole sucking all that is pure, reasonable and... well... just plain acceptable about humanity, into a charmless, smug void. Then casting purile filthy music, unfiltered worrying self-idolatry and natty sunglasses back into our faces such that we can't get away from him.

The masses kiss his cloven hooves and sing blankly along to the soundtrack to the end of all that we, as sensible human beings should hold dear: U2. Bono, the poison dwarf prince, prances along, dribbling a tune from his Pied Pipe while the supposedly civilised world skips, doe-eyed and soporific, along behind him, enraptured by his sickening drawl, like rats to the river of Hamlin.

There is hope however; on a website dedicated to his demise, in a dark corner of the message board I found this comment from a believer, defending their evil king:

"lol you people are sad, why would you waste your time trying to degrade an artist that is considered a legend amongst rock, and inducted into the hall of fame which means he's along the same sentence as elvis presley and michael jackson and led zeppelin. you people are blind, ignorant and jealous. surely you are just trying to gain power by belittling a great man...it's impossible. you can't expect everyone to hate bono.

what's funny is, people criticize him, but he still continues to do charity - which speaks for itself. he doesn't really give a sht about his image, wether people hate him or not, he is doing it for poverty's sake.

in a world like this, it's better to have one man sing about poverty...than have another heavy metal group worshipping demons. and what do you gain out of complaining? nothing. i give bono credit for having the guts to actually work with george bush, rather than pan him behind the back.

go to hell."

I fear however, that it is this poor simpleton who shall be going to hell, rather than we "blind ignorant and jealous" folks, singing and dancing along behind his idiot-king. So, Bono can be mentioned along the same sentence as EP, MJ and Led Zep he says, but what is that sentence... hmmmm... too easy?... nope... Elvis Presley, Michael Jackson and Led Zeppelin are worthy members of the hall of fame (a futile venture anyway but that is by the by) whereas Bono is just a cunt. Is that the sentence?...is it?

A great man once said: "Forgive them father, they know not what they do," and despite his protestations to the contrary, it wasn't Bono.

2006-11-18T16:50:00.000-08:00

*HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL
Peter Clifton, head of BBC online, arrived in boisterous manner (he didn't hit anyone on the way in: he just warned us of his own propensity to swear a lot). His message was fraught with danger yet laced with hope.

It is often disheartening to be repeatedly informed of the growth of UGC. Apparently now everyone Tom, Dick or Harry can be a journalist, and not only this but the BBC are providing free online lessons for these people to better their skills. After the 7/7 bombings the BBC was inundated with unsolicited photos, videos and information from people of all kinds, not asking for money but just hoping that they can aid the spread of information about this event (and see their name in lights).

In many ways this is an excellent vindication of the journalists' role: people want news. People have an innate thirst for knowledge, and also have a desire to be a part of it, which is wonderful.

In other ways this is depressing, I am paying massive monies to learn a dying art, or am I? Mr. Clifton was keen to point out that he valued base journalism skills as a prerequisite for anyone wishing to secure a job in his team, even throwing a swear or two into the mix to make it extra clear.

Online will definitely have the lion's share of the future and with it will come a certain democratisation of content but Journalistic skills will always have their place. Thankyou Mr. Clifton.

2006-11-07T04:21:00.000-08:00

RICHARD BURTON, estranged brother of Tim (my mind is a turgid melange of original and fresh thoughts. Via my bulging wad I will pour them forth into the cinematic cauldron, gaining legitimacy from Donny Jepp and Belena Conham Harter) Burton, made his merry way to our friend Birt's Acre.

The (embittered?) ex-editor of the Telegraph's pioneering online service gave an interesting insight into the workings of this new-media meat market. Most interesting to me as an avid fan of the feline companion was his comparison of the new media reader to the Cat and the print (newspaper primarily) reader to the Dog.

His point was that Newspaper readers become loyal to a trusted brand like a Dog is (apparently) loyal to its master/mistress, or whatever PC luddites require me to say. A newspaper is a man/womans' best friend and he/she will stick by it to the bitter end. The new media reader, on the other hand, lazily flits from page to page 'imprinting' whichever news site provides them with the most arresting content, appearance and service, like a cat purring for whoever feeds it.

I naturally felt drawn to the new media reader (I think I have sufficiently rinsed that piece of literary niceness and so will attempt not to use it again) due to my adoration for all things four-legged, furry and feline (no disrespect to disabled cats with fewer legs, but I simply like them less) . Burton's point is apt. We must as journalists of the electronic age be conscious of the fickle readership and endeavour to grab them and hold them for as long as possible with concise yet interesting writing, well structured and easily navigable layouts and as much peripheral 'novelty' and access points as possible. More and more people want to be spoon fed, and then be able to freely critique the feeding, like if you left a pad and paper next to a cat's saucer for it to leave feedback after it's meal.

Not that it would have the capacity to do so, as:

it would be too lazy, and:
I'm almost certain it wouldn't possess the necessary physical attributes. Although, that said point 1 might just be so apparent, that cats have yet to show us their full potential simply because they can't be bothered. Hmmm, that's a thinker.

I'd like to think we can change our online audience with good writing, and command their attention and loyalty but reality seems to be saying otherwise. Maybe in the future as Newspapers die and the internet becomes more and more powerful, brand will come into the equation and beautiful, flippant, strong-willed cats will become slobbering, mindless, blindly loyal dogs.

2006-10-22T14:33:00.000-07:00

JEWISH STATIONERY

Chapter Arts Centre in Cardiff is a special place for me, there is a lot that it has that other places in Cardiff do not have. I have seen a lot of films there with varying levels of enjoyment but never a let down.

Tonight I went to Chapter to see 'Paperclips,' a film which documents the efforts of a tiny school deep in the South of America called Whitwell Middle School. In response to a desire for a 'project' to undertake one of the teachers takes inspiration from a local convention to dedicate their efforts to a study of the Holocaust in order to learn to "respect their fellow men."

The school becomes immersed in the study and one child, on discovering that six million Jews died reveals how he/she doesn't know what six million even is. The story rolls on about how they found out that the paperclip was invented in Norway and that the Norwegian Jews would wear paperclips in order to symbolise their departed brethren. They then embark on a mission to collect one paperclip for every Jew killed. In short the mission escalates and they end up with 29,000,000 paperclips, an old Nazi railcar and a sequence of celebrity benefactors.

The story is quaint, the people are sweet and the sentiment is wonderful but I just again couldn't cope with the Jewish attitude. They were visited by Holocaust survivors who spoke to them of their experiences. There were interviews with Jewish people who had been toucheed by their endeavours and felt the need to get involved.

I studied the Jewish diaspora community in Shanghai in 1938-1947 for my dissertation and then as now I was struck with the same forceful blow by how strong and how honest and how forgiving the Jewish people are/were.

2006-10-22T04:22:00.000-07:00

IAIN DALE: ANARCHIC SUPERHERO OR SELF IMPORTANT DREAMER?

18 Doughty Street is Iain Dale's lovechild and he is proud of it, in his mind it is the most subversive and hard-hitting of media-vehicles careering down the internet superhighway and smashing out through your screen and inta yer face! It's not all that, he thinks it's all that...but it ain't all that.

The concept, on the other hand, is excellent, it opens ones eyes to a world of options for aspiring film-makers and in this respect Iain Dale is right to be smug.

While Dale's smugness is a bit dementing, I have to admire his conviction. He knows that for an outspoken Tory to endear a crowd of Guardian-cradling, aspiring media types it's going to take something short of a miracle. Having Tory leanings myself I am maybe a less representative judge but the response from the masses was largely positive with guarded praise. I liked the way he said what he had to say without regard for whether he endeared himself or not. He had a point to make and he wasn't going to doctor his rhetoric to play to his crowd.

It's a pity then that 18 Doughty Street doesn't live up to his hype. Hopefully it will spawn a new generation of internet television and political programming (which he rightly pointed out has become saturated and boring) will reclaim its potency. His legacy could be great but he might have to get over himself first.

2006-10-13T03:10:00.000-07:00

AVERT YOUR EYES

New Media, it would appear, is the future of media as we know it, but how far will it replace 'old media'? Will newspapers go the way of vinyl and become kitsch and collectable? Will television take it's final bow? and more to the point, will magazines take a bullet or will they struggle on regardless, taking the internet and its New Media allies - mobile phones and ipods and the like - under their wing and soaring forth into the future?

Amanda Powell joined us last week to give her take on NewMedia in her capacity as Editor of the Welsh division of BBC online based in our fair Cardiff. She was informative and talked well from a position of clear knowledge but one thing struck me as odd...

As you will see by following the above link the BBC have on their News front page, about halfway down, a set of three bars; one entitled 'video and audio news'; the second 'TV and Radio programmes'; and the third 'most popular video and audio'. This seems fine and dandy and makes sense as an option for news hungry surfers but Amanda informed us that due to their having received complaints from 'purists' (how you can be a purist of such a new medium I don't know) they have provided the option of hiding these bars. I don't understand how that could have worked.

Dear BBC,
I am a regular surfer of your wonderful internet site spending at least three and a half minutes there every day and I FULLY enjoy the content. Imagine my shock and dismay when I saw that you have seen fit to poison my eyes with the three bars in the centre of your page offering such dispicable fayre as 'audio' and 'video'. It sickens me to see it written here by my own fair hand. I hope you will understand my grievance and see fit to remedy your so heinous of crimes.
Yours sincerely,
Richard Head

Dear Mr Head,
Our collective head (no pun intended) here at the Beeb is hung in shame. Shame that we could have let down such an avid reader in such a horrible way. Your three and a half minutes mean a lot to us. You will see that we have acted to save your sight by giving you the option of hiding the offending articles via the click of your mouse. No more will you have to spend precious seconds seeing these things that vex you so.
Good luck and God bless,
Auntie

2006-09-11T15:15:00.000-07:00

THERE ARE 84 BICYCLES IN TOTNES

I am to start my Post-Graduate Diploma in Magazine Journalism at Cardiff University in 5 days, I returned from China two weeks ago and I am looking forward, wide-eyed to a bright future. I got a house last week, will learn shorthand this weekend, organised my room and my belongings this week and hopefully will solve world poverty in the next couple of weeks (provided I have time).

I had the outline of an idea for a feature while I was in China so I thought I would put it on here and see if there is any reaction from the millions of subscribers I have pouring over my words every minute! more likely one person will see it and they will happen to be a budding journalist, realise its genius and proceed to steal it from me and gather themself a top job in the business. I won't mind though, they will have to live with themselves forever and I will have something to blame every failure which ever befalls me on.

The idea: While in Shanghai, rushing back and forth between 'the office', my flat, restaurants, bars and cake shops I was constantly having my life threatened. Not by Chinese gang-land thugs or desperate down-on-their-lucks looking to take money from a foreigner; but by drivers. The drivers of two-wheeled vehicles no less. I developed a special relationship with these folk as, not having mastered the art of two-wheel transport myself, the bitterness extends further from me than from most. I would contest that if, when on arriving at the edge of any road you are bombarded by a sea of dual-wheeled wonders; motorised; electric; and pedal-powered, anyone would have at least a semblance of terror descend upon them.

The initial terror however, gave way to intrigue and furthermore awe. Awe at the versatility afforded by two wheels and a tiny rear-rack. The Shanghainese, far more than anyone else I have encountered manage to make use of the space available to them, with skyscrapers climbing up in gaps between buildings that I would struggle to squeeze through, and I know I'm no skinnyman but I'm getting there! This mentality of making use of every available inch of space to create something or store something or paint something or crash something has been taken on by these bi-wheeled wonders. I was astounded by what they managed to carry on their bikes: I saw men and women, young and old carrying up to four gas canisters, six office-size water bottles, twelve if they were empty, two drums full of cooking fat (where the bike seemed to be being consumed by the filth seeping out and around the drums). They carried wardrobes, desks, massive decorative banners, dogs, fish in bags, up to three extra people, massive crates of rubbish, sacks of plastic bottles, piles of newspapers and pizza delivery. David Cameron could do with taking a look at the Chinese mentality to bike-riding before his next stunt, he might then carry the car on the back of his bike rather than have it follow him, now that would really make a point.

I might even learn to ride myself, then I can see what I can manage on the back of my bicycle; a small bag maybe, or two conveniently positioned extra wheels which while looking suspiciously like stabilisers really aren't ok...OK!

2006-08-04T07:25:00.000-07:00

PISTOLS AT DAWN

read the article on smartshanghai here...

Shanghai doesn't really have a rippling underbelly of gun-toting gangstas and pistol-whipping mofos popping caps in each others asses but for those of you missing 'tha block' here are a few digs you can check; so pack it up, pack it in and let me start.

Over on Huaihai Lu if you snake between the various Starbucks and top-end fashion outlets then go down a seedy alley and past a uniformed guard you will be ushered into a lift and taken to the Modern Military Sports Club. This is exactly the sort of place you need if you just want to shoot the hell out of something and let off steam; it's tacky, feels unsafe and has a plethora of big killing machines for you to wave around wildly while chewing a fat cigar and laughing maniacally. The price can build up if you get carried away but then you can just have a game of table tennis to relax... of course you can, I mean why wouldn't you be able to?

If real guns are a bit too... well, real, then up at Hongkou Stadium is the place for you. Planet Laser Tag is actually inside the stadium itself which can be dementing for those of us who expect addresses to tell you such information and end up walking up and down the adjacent street confusedly whinging that "the only building with a fourth floor is that one that we've walked past 8 times already and can be damn sure it doesn't have any guns in it, real or otherwise!" Before finally realizing that the other building with four floors in it is that vast stadium just over the way that's been hiding behind it's own enormity, and then having to swallow my pride (and almost my tongue in hidden anger). Equally impressive yet comfortingly less deadly is the array of weapons here. For a small supplement to the reasonable 58rmb price per person per game, you can be kitted out with a shotgun or a machine gun, a space gun, a sniper rifle or even a grenade launcher (the logistics baffle me). The "killzone" is pretty big and you are treated to some well-picked tunes to bring out the lone soldier in all of us. You can choose between team games like 'Indiana Jones' and the, to my mind more favourable, free-for-all killfest.

For the more cultured killer you might like to try your hand at indoor archery at one of the Daoshun Archery centres across Shanghai. Extremely helpful staff will put various levels of protection onto you and then place the bow in your hand, string the first arrow and pretty much loose the shaft for you themselves. Despite the slightly over the top handling of the customer, the facilities are good and the staff friendly oh and of course you can play table tennis as well. With prices starting at 8rmb for 12 arrows and sky-rocketing to 12rmb for the same in the evenings you are hardly being ripped off, and with a membership card these prices drop even further. So let the red mist descend and the carnage begin!

2006-07-28T07:20:00.000-07:00

THE JEW-CIEST TOUR OF SHANGHAI

read the article on smartshanghai here...

I was met in the Peace hotel foyer by Dvir Bar-Gal: the man responsible for this tour of the rich Jewish history of Shanghai. When the group had all gathered he lead us up to the 8th floor of the hotel and sat us down on the plush red leather sofas. I was unsure how deep into Shanghai's Jewish history Dvir planned to go but almost immediately any fears of it being underdeveloped were assuaged. He lucidly took us through an outline of the Jewish influence in Shanghai before launching into a tirade of information about the Peace hotel itself. From the art deco features of the dining room to the historys of the three main Jewish families in Shanghai, Dvir's knowledge seemed to know no bounds. However, even infinite knowledge can be useless if inferred in a boring way. Dvir's delivery was both exciting and easy to follow with jokes and rhetorical questions keeping all members of the party engrossed throughout. We were taken around the upper reaches of the Peace hotel before being shown to the rooftop; you got the feeling that the staff were more than used to his presence. From the roof Dvir proceeded to point out all buildings of Jewish significance that we could see (and some we could not, yet with a bit of imagination and Dvir's delivery the past came flooding back).

The Shanghai-Jewish story is so awash with intrigue and endeavour: a true survival story, that it is wonderful to see someone like Dvir keeping it alive with such passion. His involvement in the Jewish story doesn't stop with the tour, he is engrossed in a project concerned with the preservation of Shanghai-Jewish tombstones all of which were removed and forgotten during the Cultural Revolution. He has been searching the locale and has so far recovered 85 scattered about. He is driven.

From the Peace hotel we traveled by minibus to the Hongkou region of Shanghai, over the Garden Bridge and down the former Broadway. Once there, Dvir proceeded to bring to life all the old Shanghai-Jewish landmarks walking us from one side to the other via a park with the only Jewish monument in Shanghai in it. We were taken down the Hongkou lanes almost into the former Jewish residences and allowed a real feel of Jewish life in WWII Shanghai. Next we were taken to Ohel Moishe synagogue and shown two videos. There was an art exhibition in the synagogue and a small tour given by the amazing Mr. Wang. On finishing at Ohel Moishe, we were taken to the HSBC building back on the Bund where after a nice explanation of the elaborate foyer we and Dvir parted ways.

If you have any link with the Shanghai Jewish community and can provide Dvir with an address or even just a name he is happy to try to show you where they lived. What with Shanghai changing so quickly the history is being demolished and the expo in 2010 could see all change for the former 'Little Vienna' of Hongkou, so strike while the iron is hot. The amount of information imparted was eye-opening and despite the four hour duration and 400rmb price-tag this tour comes very highly recommended and is worth the effort.

2006-07-04T06:20:00.000-07:00

TAZ'S MANIA

"Take a leap of faith," she said. "let me stay on your couch, just for one night, I'm Schizophrenic and I've been chucked out of my house and my mother won't help me," she said. She looked wretched, like she'd spent the last week desperately trying to avoid anything and everything which might have cleaned her or helped her and now she'd hit the bottom. What do you do? I mean what can you do? We let her sit on our stoop, drink our tea (complain about how it was Earl Grey and she didn't like Earl Grey... how's that for gratitude) and thrash about claiming to be unable to control her body. You couldn't help but feel sorry for her yet at the same time you couldn't possibly invite her in and give her a bed for the night, but isn't that what the good samaritan did and therefore what we're supposed to do. He got lucky.

She came around at about 11pm and while Mother and I placated her and tried to find out just how many drugs were coursing through her veins Father called the ambulance, then sat on the stairs semi-naked and complained loudly about how long it was all taking. "For Christ's sake," he moaned, which upset Taz (for we had discerned her name by this point) no end. The ambulance man arrived but could do very little as she was not actually injured, his arrival was heralded by the cat shitting on the driveway and producing the most god-awful smell. The ambulance man went to speak to Taz, "have you taken any drugs? because you look like you have."
"not for a while," mumbled Taz.
"not for a while? have you taken any today Taz?" pushed the ambulance man, looking more bored than worried.
"not for a while I haven't," mumbled Taz again, twirling her hair and looking sheepish.
"when was the last time you took drugs?" he said, sensing a breakthrough.
"this morning."

Unbelievable, she's off her tits on amphetamines, clamouring to get into the house for the night before doing god knows what to us all in our sleep and then running off with half our stuff in her crack dealer's van. Whats more, the policemen, when they finally arrive, inform us that if we had let her in they would have been able to do nothing at all to help us. As it stood she was a public nuisance and so they helped her to the pavement so as to get her away from us and hopefully gave her a lift to her mother's house (whose fault this all was according to Taz). But why do i still feel guilty that we didn't do more to help? I still feel that we let her down, that we grassed her up, that we are the bad-guys in all this and she was just a desperate, innocent drug-addict who wanted help.

2006-06-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

MICROLAB.TWO

read the article on smartshanghai here...

The second version of the microlab - microlab.two is on this Sunday (July 23rd) at The Lab with Ableton, the company behind the revolutionary music software Live. Ableton brings with them their newest and brightest version yet - Live6. What's more, they're giving all you budding DJs the chance to have a go at using their kit for yourselves.

The Live6 software covers the whole music making process from creation via production to performance and beyond. The only thing it doesn't do is actually write the music for you, although I'm sure before long it'll develop the ability to think for itself, render humanity futile and bring about the inevitable cyber-age we've all been dreading (or in some cases secretly looking forward to). But in the meantime: the new software has all kinds of upgrades like extended sample libraries and a Quicktime video support network to help you decorate your beats with some cool visuals. They at Ableton have an impressive list of 'users' ranging from recent Shanghai visitor Akufen to industrial metallers Nine Inch Nails and from legendary DJ/production duo Coldcut to sonic landscape-gardeners Mogwai. The workshop starts at 2:30pm with space for everyone and aims to give a beginners' insight into the inner workings of Live6. Shanghai's own IDM aficionado B6 takes the DJs through the Live6 DJing experience before jacksonblack tells all on the production side of things: using all the features Live6 has to offer to quickly sketch out some musical ideas and ultimately sequence a track. You'll get to create midi synth and drum tracks, use samples and loops, and apply effects to set you on the way to becoming Shanghai's next big name.

Then after the workshop has given you a chance to see what you can do, microlab will give you a chance to see how the pros do it with vj-dj duo tootekool, ben huang, micrometropolis and B6 all doing sets for your listening pleasure. Also this is your chance to bid a fond farewell to one of the Shanghai scene's mainstays, jacksonblack as he takes to the stage for the last time. jacksonblack, we salute you.