“This is going to be the summer of 2008”, was the passing remark of a stranger yesterday morning. He was right. The sun shone all day. In the evening, it was warm. In the heat island of London, I roamed from place to place. My heart smiled and my face smiled back. Today, I awoke to the sound of thunder.
Yes, I spent the summer of 2008 in The Old Smoke. Seemingly, it welcomed my presence.
Start with Beetroot
A walk from London Victoria took me past Buckingham Palace, where people sat outside on the grass, bustled about in groups, took photographs and enjoyed the morning sun. In the bustling heart of Soho, a woman gave inviting looks. She was in the foyer of an erotic shop. Independent shops were all about. A man with a great beard stood behind the counter at a comic exchange. Sister Ray beckoned me to buy music.
The city was at peace. This was the first truly sunny day in an age. From a large cardboard box, I ate a vegan shepherd’s pie, with sautéed root vegetables, broccoli and three fabulous mini sausage rolls that perched on top. So much food at midday was enough to beat me. My stomach sang. I was at a cafe called Beetroot on Berwick Street.
As well as having no plates, the small cafe, which sits beside an age-old fruit market, also had no toilet. The pub next door announced ‘Toilets for Customers Only’. I decided to be German. A German once told me that in their nation such establishments have to allow the public access to toilets. “Are you okay?” a staff member asked, in the almost empty drinking establishment. “I’m fine” I answered. I was. I was feeling much better. I made for a swift exit and decided against the fake German accent. My lunch was on a table next door. I wasn't followed or shouted at. It was all good.
London Through a Lens
I can thoroughly recommend a visit to ‘London Through a Lens’. This is a free exhibition of Getty Images on Eastcastle Street, with photographs dating back as far as 1828. The exhibition includes some famous faces, but the photographs of ordinary folk, that define a moment, say much more to me. Here is a taster, but do see the photographs in person. They are on display until 27th September, 2008.
Coal Scrounging (May 1926). I love the children in this image. Their dirty cheerful faces bring me joy. This photograph was taken during the General Strike, when children scrounged in the coal yard for odd pieces of coal that had fallen from the vans at King's Cross. These were bad times, and yet, for the camera, the children held their sacks up high over their shoulders and armed themselves with cheeky grins.
Squatters In Britain (August 1971). No Fuzz, Free Pot Acid, People Before Profit, Love Your Fellow Man and Give Him a Home. The squat in Clerkenwell speaks of idealism and a better world. This image makes me want to be a part of it.
Crowded Market (December 1962). This photograph shows a crowd of shoppers at Petticoat Lane street market in London's East End. What I love about it the most, is the placard held high. It says ‘The End is at Hand’. Part of me imagined such placards to be mythical or perhaps part of American history. I love it.
Sweets Galore (February 1953). This images shows a crowd of children as they rush to get into the sweet shop. This was on the day that sweet rationing finally ended. Hooray.
Piccadilly New Year (January 1955). This image shows us that nothing really changes. The mass of people at Piccadilly reminds me of seeing the New Year in at Trafalgar Square, and on the north bank of the Thames for the Millennium. It also makes me wonder what happened to Bovril’s corporate status.
A Falling Fireman (July 1922). This photograph shows a fireman jumping from a window into a safety blanket at Southwark Bridge Road in London. The fireman holds his body perfectly straight and has his arms to his side. He appears to be thinking more about looking smart for the camera than about his fall.
Blackout (December 1939). This is an image of Oxford Street, London, during the blackout of World War II. One might think that the series of bright wiggly lines are vehicles, but they are pedestrians holding torches. Apparently, torches were permitted after people died when falling into ponds and walking into traffic, but they had to be held downwards. White lines were drawn on pavements to guide Londoners across town.
British Restaurant? (May 1940). This depicts an Italian restaurateur removing the sign Italian sign from his restaurant. When Mussolini sided with Hitler in World War II, Winston Churchill declared "Collar the lot!" and Italian men were interned until Italy's capitulation. In London there were anti-Italian riots.
Children’s Party (circa 1918). At the end of the first world war, some East End children celebrated with a street party. They sat at a long table in the middle of a street decorated with bunting and British flags. Apparently, taking over the streets for a party used to be more common. Bring it back, I say.
I C*nt Spel
At Trafalgar Square, with stalls and stages galore, Liberty called for Disability Rights. It was a free festival of music, arts and dance, at which many of the performers were disabled or deaf. Everyone was welcome to attend. I thoroughly enjoyed its inclusive nature. We stopped to watch comedian Liz Carr, who entertained us with her smutty humour. They had subtitles, sign language and wheelchairs on offer. Fantastic stuff.
The Southbank
Over the river, a relaxed summer vibe was in full flow. Children paddled on the sandy banks of the Thames, couples smiled and held hands, and the buskers made a mint. A raggle taggle band welcomed us with the music used for "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini", silver statues blinked and a full on con act was in progress. Under which cup is the penny? Hang on; doesn’t the person who just won £20 look just like your brother? Really.
Susan Pui San Lok
In the Southbank Gallery of the British Film Institute, the air was cooler and calmer. We sat at the edge of a room on a cushioned bench and watched five films run concurrently in harmony. 'Faster, Higher' is film art to delight. I have seen film art in galleries before, and yet this was far superior. Set to the backdrop of the Olympic Games, it highlights the similarities of our, oh so, different nations. We all cheer with patriotism for the physical endeavour of our fellow citizen. Interspersed with clips of an expedition on Mount Everest, and a group of young athletes performing repetitive martial art exercises (faster, higher), the mere 16 minutes of running time gives so much more. My thought processes may catch up one day soon. Rehearsal and construction, the event and post-analysis. We are all the same, despite the cultural differences that define our eras and nations.
Spray Can Alley
In a tunnel in Waterloo anarchy reigns. During May Bank Holiday, 2008, Banksy and hundreds of graffiti artists made Leake Street their own. Now, unmonitored, living art is changing the tunnel’s appearance every day. The original pieces have mutated and, in some cases, they no longer exist. Cars lie heavy with paint in the gloom. To visit this tunnel every day and watch its mutation would have been perfect, but we had just one day and one small moment. We were Art Fags. Someone kindly directed us into the tunnel with a sign that said as much. I hope that in the evenings, the tunnel fills with people, a sound system and a party. That would complete it for me. Do see the tunnel before The Department for Transport decides to end anarchy forever. There are many photographs of the tunnel scattered across the world wide web, but what you see online probably won’t be what’s in the tunnel right now. What I saw in the tunnel, just yesterday, may have gone too.
The Dark Knight
Everyone should watch great films on an IMAX screen. I’m not going to review the film, because at the time of writing it’s received 258,393 votes on the Internet Movie Database site, and is ranked as the third best movie of all time. For me the film was 20-metre-high by 26-metre-wide, no one’s head bobbed up and down in front of me, and the sound was superb. I like the new Batman films. Watching The Machinist led me to reappraise Christian Bale, who I hated in American Psycho and Shaft. It’s a shame that the Joker is dead, as this may have been Heath Ledger at his best. Who knows what he could have done next.
The Press Photographer’s Year
The day started with photographs from the past and ended with a much more current set, including images fresh from the Olympic Games. We caught the very last day of this outstanding exhibition. You can view a slide show of it, but seeing the photographs printed, and with a description, made for a very moving presentation. Highlights include Rui Vieira’s image of a British Muslim woman sticking up two fingers to the world, Darren Staples image of a man running through fire, Sean Smith’s image of an injured Iraqi soldier in the throes of pain, and Daniel Berehulak’s image of flooded Tewkesbury.
End with Pineapple
The summer of 2008 ended with a walk along the south bank of the Thames, and watching The Fifth Element on a laptop on the train. It was all very lovely. We ate fresh pineapple.
Fabpants Recommends: Fresh Legs. I need fresh legs, you need fresh legs, we all need fresh legs. Indie punk for all. Unsigned and unfettered. Check out their MySpace. How rude of me not to provide a link. Seek, seek, seek, and you shall find.
Sunday, 31 August 2008
Saturday, 30 August 2008
She Thinks She'll Soon Die and Never See Us Again
"Nuclear weapons deter a nuclear holocaust by threatening a nuclear holocaust, and if things go wrong then that is what you get: a nuclear holocaust...
At best the children seem strangely subdued or off-colour. Although they are aware of the keepers, they don’t want to look at them, they don’t want to catch their eye. They don’t want to think about them. For the keepers are a thousand feet tall, and covered in gelignite and razor blades, toting flamethrowers and machine guns, cleavers and skewers, and fizzling with rabies, anthrax, plague. Curiously enough, they are not looking at the children at all. With bleeding hellhound eyes, mouthing foul threats and shaking their fists, they are looking at each other. They want to take on someone their own size...
If they only knew it – no, if they only believed it – the children could simply ask the keepers to leave, but it doesn’t seem possible, does it? It seems – it seems unthinkable. A silence starts to fall across the lawn. The party has not been going for very long and must last until the end of time. Already the children are sick and feverish. They all feel sick and want to go home."
Martin Amis – Einstein’s Monsters
Fabpants Recommends: This post was typed whilst listening to Envelopes ‘Here Comes the Wind’.
This highly experimental album plays with elements of anti-folk, punk, electronica and pop, pop, pop. It says ‘I’m as indie as indie can be’. It’s part Swedish, part French.
If you read somewhere that Envelopes sound like The Pixies, press delete. Could it be that someone with a small CD collection once compared Envelopes to The Pixies and a plethora of lazy journalists followed suit? Where is my mind? Somewhere between ‘control c’ and ‘control v’. Envelopes are more like Helen Love than The Pixies, and that’s not really telling you anything. Listen and see.
Album Tasters:
Download MP3: Envelopes - Smoke In The Desert, Eating The Sand, Hide In The Grass (courtesy of nastypanda.com)
Download MP3: Envelopes – Party (courtesy of brooklynvegan.com)
Download MP3: Envelopes – Boat (courtesy of polaroidallaradio.it)
Did someone say Avril Lavigne? That was My Geek from the palace of bed. The amazing thing is that were they not on this album, I would hate some of the sounds that it offers. It’s so all over the place that every fucked up part of it works.
At best the children seem strangely subdued or off-colour. Although they are aware of the keepers, they don’t want to look at them, they don’t want to catch their eye. They don’t want to think about them. For the keepers are a thousand feet tall, and covered in gelignite and razor blades, toting flamethrowers and machine guns, cleavers and skewers, and fizzling with rabies, anthrax, plague. Curiously enough, they are not looking at the children at all. With bleeding hellhound eyes, mouthing foul threats and shaking their fists, they are looking at each other. They want to take on someone their own size...
If they only knew it – no, if they only believed it – the children could simply ask the keepers to leave, but it doesn’t seem possible, does it? It seems – it seems unthinkable. A silence starts to fall across the lawn. The party has not been going for very long and must last until the end of time. Already the children are sick and feverish. They all feel sick and want to go home."
Martin Amis – Einstein’s Monsters
Fabpants Recommends: This post was typed whilst listening to Envelopes ‘Here Comes the Wind’.
This highly experimental album plays with elements of anti-folk, punk, electronica and pop, pop, pop. It says ‘I’m as indie as indie can be’. It’s part Swedish, part French.
If you read somewhere that Envelopes sound like The Pixies, press delete. Could it be that someone with a small CD collection once compared Envelopes to The Pixies and a plethora of lazy journalists followed suit? Where is my mind? Somewhere between ‘control c’ and ‘control v’. Envelopes are more like Helen Love than The Pixies, and that’s not really telling you anything. Listen and see.
Album Tasters:
Download MP3: Envelopes - Smoke In The Desert, Eating The Sand, Hide In The Grass (courtesy of nastypanda.com)
Download MP3: Envelopes – Party (courtesy of brooklynvegan.com)
Download MP3: Envelopes – Boat (courtesy of polaroidallaradio.it)
Did someone say Avril Lavigne? That was My Geek from the palace of bed. The amazing thing is that were they not on this album, I would hate some of the sounds that it offers. It’s so all over the place that every fucked up part of it works.
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Walking Ghosts
As promised, below is the next in my series of nuclear war and atomic bomb quotes, as collected by this lonely soul some 16 years ago. I managed to re-source the same quote in a book published just last year. It's hard to believe that the words refer to an event from real life.
“The appearance of the people was... well, they all had skin blackened by burns... They held their arms bent (forward),... and their skin – not only on their hands, but on their faces and bodies too - hung down. If there had been only one or two such people... perhaps I would not have had such a strong impression. But wherever I walked I met these people... Many of them died along the road – I can still picture them in my mind – like walking ghosts.” Survivor of the Hiroshima Bombing, 1962.
Now quoted in: The Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, By Valerie Bodden
If you missed the previous entries in this series, they are here:
Nuclear War and the Terrifying Stupidity of Humankind
The Atom Bomb Survivors and The Day Today
Needless To Say...
Fabpants Recommends: BC Camplight - Blink of a Nihilist. I have just rediscovered this album. I got a strange form of enjoyment out of it last year and then forgot to prioritise it for later judgement. As they weave their way through candyfloss melodies, lyrics like "We've been living in your basement", "I'm not talking to you darling", “I’m in love with you and your little sister too”, and "I've Got a Bad Cold" are aptly self-mocking. This album is at its best when it sounds like it is taking the piss out of itself. Falsetto vocals and self-mockery should never live apart.
“The appearance of the people was... well, they all had skin blackened by burns... They held their arms bent (forward),... and their skin – not only on their hands, but on their faces and bodies too - hung down. If there had been only one or two such people... perhaps I would not have had such a strong impression. But wherever I walked I met these people... Many of them died along the road – I can still picture them in my mind – like walking ghosts.” Survivor of the Hiroshima Bombing, 1962.
Now quoted in: The Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, By Valerie Bodden
If you missed the previous entries in this series, they are here:
Nuclear War and the Terrifying Stupidity of Humankind
The Atom Bomb Survivors and The Day Today
Needless To Say...
Fabpants Recommends: BC Camplight - Blink of a Nihilist. I have just rediscovered this album. I got a strange form of enjoyment out of it last year and then forgot to prioritise it for later judgement. As they weave their way through candyfloss melodies, lyrics like "We've been living in your basement", "I'm not talking to you darling", “I’m in love with you and your little sister too”, and "I've Got a Bad Cold" are aptly self-mocking. This album is at its best when it sounds like it is taking the piss out of itself. Falsetto vocals and self-mockery should never live apart.
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Gig Review: West Hill Hall Music
Before they came on stage, someone asked me what The Hidden Cameras are like. To reuse an old and suitably battered phrase, describing music is like dancing about architecture. The Hidden Cameras exemplify this point perfectly. We can compare and contrast, but, at the end of the day, we must just listen.
I once read an interview with Joel Gibb, lead singer of The Hidden Cameras, in the NME. It was back in 2004. The interviewer challenged Joel’s explicit lyrics and his ‘one track mind’, particularly in relation to ‘Golden Streams’. My faded memory tells me that Joel gave these questions an articulate brush off. To me, nothing sums up the music better. Such questioning deserves polite rejection. The rejection says more about the music than the inquiry itself.
For the most part, the sexual orientation of this man, and his sometimes-explicit lyrics, are irrelevant. The Hidden Cameras create songs with a certain beauty that transcends these oh so important details. The details are only important because they exemplify the ethos of the band. This band does not bow down to convention. It creates stunning music soaked in love.
In 2003, the album ‘The Smell of our Own’ reached 22 in the NME album charts. ‘Golden Streams’ sits on this album in first place. NME were already fans of Joel Gibb before they challenged his sexually charged content. Let’s talk about sex baby. No, let’s not. Let’s talk about you and me. Let’s talk philosophy. No, hang on, let’s concentrate on the songs. The songs are greater than the sum of their parts and should only be discussed in their complete form.
The music press does not deny The Hidden Cameras adequate attention. Yet, The Hidden Cameras shy away from large venues and the music industry production line. On Friday, I saw them at West Hill Hall, a community centre that resembles a village hall. Like many smaller, lesser-known bands, they had a table to sell merchandise from and based themselves in a venue driven by DIY culture.
At West Hill Hall, visitors can bring their own alcohol. Prejudice and intolerance are off the menu. You can be exactly the person that you want to be. That is, unless you are bigoted, racist, homophobic, chauvinistic or discriminatory in any form. I love West Hill Hall.
“I heard that The Hidden Cameras have dancing girls and audience participation’, a friend told me. Could I confirm or deny? “I only know the songs”, was my answer, “Some of them are a little risqué, but they are generally pretty mellow. I have never seen the band live, so I really can’t imagine what their stage show might be.” I have since read a preamble to the gig in the local press, and my pre-show uncertainty seems well placed.
The newspaper clipping gives us this, “Joel won't be drawn on what audiences can expect from the band's Brighton date. "I don't like having a set programme," he says. "I like the possibilities of not planning things, but we might have some decorations and maybe we'll have dancers - we won't know until we do it.”’
I hope my friend wasn’t disappointed, but there were no dancing girls. There was some Awoo, some Golden Streams, and a wide sample of The Hidden Cameras bouncier back / future catalogue. There was screeching, jumping, facial expressions and other fun fuelled antics that said ‘we sure as hell like to party’. During the first few songs, I watched an expression of bemused intrigue repeated across the room. By the end, feet and not faces were talking. Encore. Encore.
I felt I had mis-sold the band to my friend. Where did my talk of ‘mellow’ come from? Please listen to ‘Mississauga Goddam’ and tell me that I’m wrong.
Before I leave you to continue with the rest of my life, I must mention the support act Lianne Hall. Just the name makes me tingle. John Peel called her “one of the great English voices”, and her performance took me back to the days when John wrapped up music in his sweet dulcet tones. John Peel loved Lianne. I felt old as her songs took me back to different times. Only today, did I learn that Lianne Hall and West Hill Hall have synergy. West Hill Hall is Lianne’s rehearsal space.
Fabpants Recommends: Saint Thomas (aka St. Thomas).
I want the sound-lady from The Hidden Cameras gig to be my personal DJ. She was brilliant. When she played Saint Thomas she confirmed my desire to be at one with her playlist.
I saw Saint Thomas play Brighton Freebutt in 2004. Saint Thomas was from Norway. He sadly died in 2007, at the age of 31. He suffered from chronic depression, was an alcoholic and self-medicated with illegal 'purchased online' drugs. The cause of death was determined to be an "unfortunate combination of prescribed drugs". I loved the way he wanted to be Will Oldham (aka Bonnie Prince Billy).
You can find out more about Saint Thomas on this fansite
Here is a little taster for you:
Download MP3: Saint Thomas – Take a Dance with Me (sorry, this link has died)
I once read an interview with Joel Gibb, lead singer of The Hidden Cameras, in the NME. It was back in 2004. The interviewer challenged Joel’s explicit lyrics and his ‘one track mind’, particularly in relation to ‘Golden Streams’. My faded memory tells me that Joel gave these questions an articulate brush off. To me, nothing sums up the music better. Such questioning deserves polite rejection. The rejection says more about the music than the inquiry itself.
For the most part, the sexual orientation of this man, and his sometimes-explicit lyrics, are irrelevant. The Hidden Cameras create songs with a certain beauty that transcends these oh so important details. The details are only important because they exemplify the ethos of the band. This band does not bow down to convention. It creates stunning music soaked in love.
In 2003, the album ‘The Smell of our Own’ reached 22 in the NME album charts. ‘Golden Streams’ sits on this album in first place. NME were already fans of Joel Gibb before they challenged his sexually charged content. Let’s talk about sex baby. No, let’s not. Let’s talk about you and me. Let’s talk philosophy. No, hang on, let’s concentrate on the songs. The songs are greater than the sum of their parts and should only be discussed in their complete form.
The music press does not deny The Hidden Cameras adequate attention. Yet, The Hidden Cameras shy away from large venues and the music industry production line. On Friday, I saw them at West Hill Hall, a community centre that resembles a village hall. Like many smaller, lesser-known bands, they had a table to sell merchandise from and based themselves in a venue driven by DIY culture.
At West Hill Hall, visitors can bring their own alcohol. Prejudice and intolerance are off the menu. You can be exactly the person that you want to be. That is, unless you are bigoted, racist, homophobic, chauvinistic or discriminatory in any form. I love West Hill Hall.
“I heard that The Hidden Cameras have dancing girls and audience participation’, a friend told me. Could I confirm or deny? “I only know the songs”, was my answer, “Some of them are a little risqué, but they are generally pretty mellow. I have never seen the band live, so I really can’t imagine what their stage show might be.” I have since read a preamble to the gig in the local press, and my pre-show uncertainty seems well placed.
The newspaper clipping gives us this, “Joel won't be drawn on what audiences can expect from the band's Brighton date. "I don't like having a set programme," he says. "I like the possibilities of not planning things, but we might have some decorations and maybe we'll have dancers - we won't know until we do it.”’
I hope my friend wasn’t disappointed, but there were no dancing girls. There was some Awoo, some Golden Streams, and a wide sample of The Hidden Cameras bouncier back / future catalogue. There was screeching, jumping, facial expressions and other fun fuelled antics that said ‘we sure as hell like to party’. During the first few songs, I watched an expression of bemused intrigue repeated across the room. By the end, feet and not faces were talking. Encore. Encore.
I felt I had mis-sold the band to my friend. Where did my talk of ‘mellow’ come from? Please listen to ‘Mississauga Goddam’ and tell me that I’m wrong.
Before I leave you to continue with the rest of my life, I must mention the support act Lianne Hall. Just the name makes me tingle. John Peel called her “one of the great English voices”, and her performance took me back to the days when John wrapped up music in his sweet dulcet tones. John Peel loved Lianne. I felt old as her songs took me back to different times. Only today, did I learn that Lianne Hall and West Hill Hall have synergy. West Hill Hall is Lianne’s rehearsal space.
Fabpants Recommends: Saint Thomas (aka St. Thomas).
I want the sound-lady from The Hidden Cameras gig to be my personal DJ. She was brilliant. When she played Saint Thomas she confirmed my desire to be at one with her playlist.
I saw Saint Thomas play Brighton Freebutt in 2004. Saint Thomas was from Norway. He sadly died in 2007, at the age of 31. He suffered from chronic depression, was an alcoholic and self-medicated with illegal 'purchased online' drugs. The cause of death was determined to be an "unfortunate combination of prescribed drugs". I loved the way he wanted to be Will Oldham (aka Bonnie Prince Billy).
You can find out more about Saint Thomas on this fansite
Here is a little taster for you:
Download MP3: Saint Thomas – Take a Dance with Me (sorry, this link has died)
Saturday, 23 August 2008
Gig Review: Intermission
There’s a festival happening on my doorstep this weekend. It’s called Beachdown. Some have expressed surprise that I’m not there. I have a bit of a reputation for going to festivals and it confuses people that I would miss one when it’s so close to home. Hey, what can I say? I’m hard to predict.
To be honest, I’d rather be at Reading. I’m not there either. I’m having a bank holiday at home instead. I slept in until noon. It was lovely. Poppy the cat nestled against my body and we snoozed the morning away.
Reading Festival is the oldest festival in the UK. I frequented it for years, at first religiously and then intermittently. I may well find myself there again; I certainly wouldn’t rule it out. Admittedly, during the last few years, when I have gone, it has been with a day ticket, and with a thirteen year/fourteen year old in tow.
Reading Festival still has much to offer to a music lover like me. Thirteen/fourteen year olds don’t bat an eyelid before heading down the front to party. I love live music fuelled by the right kind of audience, young or old. More music loving adolescents should let me hang out with them.
There is a certain snobbery, which comes with age, where Reading Festival is concerned. I have never agreed with this. Okay, there are Reading Festival bands that I’d certainly avoid like the plague - there always have been - but inside the tents, and mixed in with the Metallica’s and Slipknots, Reading Festival 2008 is offering up acts like Dan le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip, Vampire Weekend, MGMT, Frank Turner, The Cribs, Conor Oberst, CSS, Holy Fuck and The Death Set. That is much more than I can say for Beachdown.
Did you just notice me mention The Death Set without pause? Well that wasn’t going to last long, was it? For a brief moment, I’m going to close my eyes and release a happy sigh.
After missing them in February, on the Monday that we just added to recent history, I finally saw my favourite band of 2008. It was truly marvellous. I’ve invented my own festival line up by combining three gigs in Brighton this week. It’s been ace so far, with brilliant headliners and support acts alike. I get to see amazing bands and sleep at home. My batteries have been running on empty for too long, so fuck the tent.
The Fabpants Festival started upstairs in a pub where John Peel’s face adorns an outside wall. Cool, eh? The small capacity venue was bustling with open-minded, enthusiastic music fans and a fine selection of tunes drove away the rain. I’ve been in that room before. On a sold out night, one can suffocate in the oxygen-depleted heat. For The Death Set, there were enough people to create a small party, but not too many to steal the air. It was perfect. The bands abandoned the stage to play at the same height as the audience and a feeling of unity formed.
It was a truly pleasant surprise when Lonely Ghosts came on first. I missed them during the ‘At Home by the Sea’ Festival, and Tom Denney is in the band. For those of you who don’t know, Tom Denney used to be in Help She Can’t Swim. I was a Help She Can’t Swim fan and I am biased.
Despite Lonely Ghosts reluctant reliance on backing instrumentation from an IPod, I heard potential and it pleased me. It brought back happy memories. In my mind, Tom Denney’s voice battled against Leesey Frances in a glorious frenzy. Of course, in reality it did not. While I longed for the good old days, something new was trying to emerge and it earned my respect. As Tom Denney struggled with the unnatural sound of pre-recorded instruments, he offered a nervous and apologetic commentary. Whilst learning to swim, Tom was coy, charming and at times brilliant. I hope to see Lonely Ghosts in ‘full band form’ one day. They have been rehearsing.
Next came Lovvers, who have been gathering press inches like Britney. They gave it their all, and while they may not be my kind of band, I appreciated them for it. With an enthusiastic set like that, no one could complain. The lead singer doesn’t mind falling over for his art and that shows a certain commitment. He most certainly warmed the crowd up for what was to come.
Me? No, I didn’t need warming up. As the The Death Set took their places, I looked about me. In a state of fettered anticipation, I wondered if anyone else had been basking in a state of excited glee for this band for a past six months. I thought not. Still, the audience gathered around tightly, as Lovvers had requested a short while before. With all my might, I hoped that my fellow revellers might allow themselves to stop their internal processing and to live for the moment that was about to come. This was no time to analyse, posture and pose. This was no time for thought. If there is one moment in life when the prerequisite is to indulge in a mindless messy brilliance, then The Death Set provides.
Then came those songs, you know, the ones that make me mental with joy. Oh me, oh my. My legs began to bounce, and I wanted to leap around like a bear on speed. I looked over. Tom Denney, of Lonely Ghosts was bouncing too. Between us, an audience needed to let go. Then abandonment would be complete. I willed them to come with us and they half complied.
An audience can make or break a gig, even when the band is stupendously brilliant. I so wanted this to be one of those life defining moments. All the ingredients were there, an intimate venue, an amazing up and coming band and a good mix of dedicated music fans.
From one infectiously brilliant song to the next, hilarious, but aptly chosen, clips drove us onwards without pause. I let my body pogo, as it so longed to do, and I willed on unified abandonment from those about me. The man next to me may as well have been rock. We were at the very front, with a band we could reach out a touch. Johnny Siera looked like he was having the party of his life, and the semi-enthralled audience gathered tighter and tighter. Tom Denney and Johnny Siera became as one.
If Johnny Siera is not doing exactly what he wants with his life, then we’re all damned. If that’s not something to make people feel gloriously carefree, then I don’t know what is.
I am in no doubt that the music savvy crowd knew this was a potential moment and that they wanted it. Perhaps they just didn’t know that they have a role in making it happen. Where is the wide-eyed wonder in the self-conscious music fan? Does it only come out at the weekend with the right combination of drugs, alcohol and fireworks that explode up the arse? Is there always an element of internal assessment?
The Death Set even use a backing track with such charm, that I have no choice but to forgive them. With a tongue in cheek middle finger held up to the world, The Death Set are as cool as fuck. They know how to let go and one day I hope to be with fifty people that go with them.
If nothing else, I wish that the man stood to my immediate right had let his body bounce just slightly. If he had, he might have found himself in a fine frenzy before he knew it. The Death Set – to be enjoyed at a molecular level. Cerebral? Pah, leave that for later.
...More nuclear warfare quotes coming soon...
Fabpants Recommends: It has come to my attention that I neglected to mention that I caught some of Foals when they played at Latitude Festival on the Sunday. I caught the last few tracks and wished that I'd seen the full set. They were quite something. So, check out their album ‘Antidotes’ or, better still, go to a gig. Tour dates are shown on their MySpace.
Red Socks Pugie is an amazing track:
Download MP3: Foals - Red Socks Pugie (courtesy of cemusicblog.com)
If you want some great tracks not on the album, download these:
Download MP3: Foals – Mathletics (courtesy of digitalwell.washington.edu)
Download MP3: Foals - Hummer (courtesy of cemusicblog.com)
To be honest, I’d rather be at Reading. I’m not there either. I’m having a bank holiday at home instead. I slept in until noon. It was lovely. Poppy the cat nestled against my body and we snoozed the morning away.
Reading Festival is the oldest festival in the UK. I frequented it for years, at first religiously and then intermittently. I may well find myself there again; I certainly wouldn’t rule it out. Admittedly, during the last few years, when I have gone, it has been with a day ticket, and with a thirteen year/fourteen year old in tow.
Reading Festival still has much to offer to a music lover like me. Thirteen/fourteen year olds don’t bat an eyelid before heading down the front to party. I love live music fuelled by the right kind of audience, young or old. More music loving adolescents should let me hang out with them.
There is a certain snobbery, which comes with age, where Reading Festival is concerned. I have never agreed with this. Okay, there are Reading Festival bands that I’d certainly avoid like the plague - there always have been - but inside the tents, and mixed in with the Metallica’s and Slipknots, Reading Festival 2008 is offering up acts like Dan le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip, Vampire Weekend, MGMT, Frank Turner, The Cribs, Conor Oberst, CSS, Holy Fuck and The Death Set. That is much more than I can say for Beachdown.
Did you just notice me mention The Death Set without pause? Well that wasn’t going to last long, was it? For a brief moment, I’m going to close my eyes and release a happy sigh.
After missing them in February, on the Monday that we just added to recent history, I finally saw my favourite band of 2008. It was truly marvellous. I’ve invented my own festival line up by combining three gigs in Brighton this week. It’s been ace so far, with brilliant headliners and support acts alike. I get to see amazing bands and sleep at home. My batteries have been running on empty for too long, so fuck the tent.
The Fabpants Festival started upstairs in a pub where John Peel’s face adorns an outside wall. Cool, eh? The small capacity venue was bustling with open-minded, enthusiastic music fans and a fine selection of tunes drove away the rain. I’ve been in that room before. On a sold out night, one can suffocate in the oxygen-depleted heat. For The Death Set, there were enough people to create a small party, but not too many to steal the air. It was perfect. The bands abandoned the stage to play at the same height as the audience and a feeling of unity formed.
It was a truly pleasant surprise when Lonely Ghosts came on first. I missed them during the ‘At Home by the Sea’ Festival, and Tom Denney is in the band. For those of you who don’t know, Tom Denney used to be in Help She Can’t Swim. I was a Help She Can’t Swim fan and I am biased.
Despite Lonely Ghosts reluctant reliance on backing instrumentation from an IPod, I heard potential and it pleased me. It brought back happy memories. In my mind, Tom Denney’s voice battled against Leesey Frances in a glorious frenzy. Of course, in reality it did not. While I longed for the good old days, something new was trying to emerge and it earned my respect. As Tom Denney struggled with the unnatural sound of pre-recorded instruments, he offered a nervous and apologetic commentary. Whilst learning to swim, Tom was coy, charming and at times brilliant. I hope to see Lonely Ghosts in ‘full band form’ one day. They have been rehearsing.
Next came Lovvers, who have been gathering press inches like Britney. They gave it their all, and while they may not be my kind of band, I appreciated them for it. With an enthusiastic set like that, no one could complain. The lead singer doesn’t mind falling over for his art and that shows a certain commitment. He most certainly warmed the crowd up for what was to come.
Me? No, I didn’t need warming up. As the The Death Set took their places, I looked about me. In a state of fettered anticipation, I wondered if anyone else had been basking in a state of excited glee for this band for a past six months. I thought not. Still, the audience gathered around tightly, as Lovvers had requested a short while before. With all my might, I hoped that my fellow revellers might allow themselves to stop their internal processing and to live for the moment that was about to come. This was no time to analyse, posture and pose. This was no time for thought. If there is one moment in life when the prerequisite is to indulge in a mindless messy brilliance, then The Death Set provides.
Then came those songs, you know, the ones that make me mental with joy. Oh me, oh my. My legs began to bounce, and I wanted to leap around like a bear on speed. I looked over. Tom Denney, of Lonely Ghosts was bouncing too. Between us, an audience needed to let go. Then abandonment would be complete. I willed them to come with us and they half complied.
An audience can make or break a gig, even when the band is stupendously brilliant. I so wanted this to be one of those life defining moments. All the ingredients were there, an intimate venue, an amazing up and coming band and a good mix of dedicated music fans.
From one infectiously brilliant song to the next, hilarious, but aptly chosen, clips drove us onwards without pause. I let my body pogo, as it so longed to do, and I willed on unified abandonment from those about me. The man next to me may as well have been rock. We were at the very front, with a band we could reach out a touch. Johnny Siera looked like he was having the party of his life, and the semi-enthralled audience gathered tighter and tighter. Tom Denney and Johnny Siera became as one.
If Johnny Siera is not doing exactly what he wants with his life, then we’re all damned. If that’s not something to make people feel gloriously carefree, then I don’t know what is.
I am in no doubt that the music savvy crowd knew this was a potential moment and that they wanted it. Perhaps they just didn’t know that they have a role in making it happen. Where is the wide-eyed wonder in the self-conscious music fan? Does it only come out at the weekend with the right combination of drugs, alcohol and fireworks that explode up the arse? Is there always an element of internal assessment?
The Death Set even use a backing track with such charm, that I have no choice but to forgive them. With a tongue in cheek middle finger held up to the world, The Death Set are as cool as fuck. They know how to let go and one day I hope to be with fifty people that go with them.
If nothing else, I wish that the man stood to my immediate right had let his body bounce just slightly. If he had, he might have found himself in a fine frenzy before he knew it. The Death Set – to be enjoyed at a molecular level. Cerebral? Pah, leave that for later.
...More nuclear warfare quotes coming soon...
Fabpants Recommends: It has come to my attention that I neglected to mention that I caught some of Foals when they played at Latitude Festival on the Sunday. I caught the last few tracks and wished that I'd seen the full set. They were quite something. So, check out their album ‘Antidotes’ or, better still, go to a gig. Tour dates are shown on their MySpace.
Red Socks Pugie is an amazing track:
Download MP3: Foals - Red Socks Pugie (courtesy of cemusicblog.com)
If you want some great tracks not on the album, download these:
Download MP3: Foals – Mathletics (courtesy of digitalwell.washington.edu)
Download MP3: Foals - Hummer (courtesy of cemusicblog.com)
Saturday, 16 August 2008
Needless To Say...
...I am very excited about seeing The ‘Motherfucking’ Death Set on Monday. I spent this morning leaping around the flat to their ‘To’ EP. I’m sure that the neighbours enjoyed my frenzied rendition of ‘Worldwide’, ‘Intermission’ and ‘Paranoia’. There was a lot of shouting involved. I recommend starting every day with The Death Set and some animated delight. Negative Thinking will ruin your life.
“They will crawl out as darkness falls, to be sick, to defecate, to release cramped limbs, to find out whether the muffled roaring, stinking, crackly noise is their home or the whole earth burning. They will seek out, in compassion, the sobs and moans of those alive and trapped in wreckage, perhaps desperately hoping that they are their own or someone known whom they might help.
They will be exposed, become contaminated, irradiated. Compassion, the humane response will be their executioner. They will carry contamination back to their holes in the rubble. Soon the children will vomit, weaken and begin to die. Their gravediggers too, will be dying”
Crucible of Despair: Effects of Nuclear War, Anthony Tucker & John Gleisner (1982)
Fabpants Recommends: Listening to deep, dark, miserable, but stunningly beautiful music at the gym.
Perhaps it’s a reaction to the sugar coated pop that bellows out of the gym’s speakers, perhaps it’s in honour of the work that the gym releases me from, or perhaps it’s just a product of my personality, but I love listening to miserable music at the gym.
Yesterday, when This Mortal Coil’s ‘Song to the Siren’, The Radio Dept’s ‘Strange Things will Happen’ and Joy Division’s ‘Atmosphere’ randomly played in that very order, I couldn’t stop grinning. The dark side of life is so beautiful. I find myself falling in love with it, and the music that honours its depth.
For your next run:
Download MP3: This Mortal Coil – Song to the Siren (courtesy of animazeinc.com)
Download MP3: The Radio Dept – Strange Things Will Happen (courtesy of anyones-guess.com)
Download MP3: Joy Division – Atmosphere (courtesy of vaguespace.net)
Postscript:
I’m aware that I never told you all about my amazing canoeing trip in Norfolk. It encompassed Windmills, Lighthouses, Tall Church Towers, Birds, Butterflies, A City of Elephants, Short Sharp Showers and some Amazing Three Point Turns.
Also sidelined: ‘At Home by the Sea’ Festival and other short stories from ‘The Weekend that the German came to Stay’. Sorry, I’ve been a bit busy. Perhaps, one day, you will hear the amazing tale of Slow Club in the corner, and about the charm of Peggy Sue and the Pirates and their lobster fingered punchlines. Under The Arches, only a sheet of tarpaulin protected us from being battered to death by rain. I mustn’t forget to mention the perfection of seeing the CocknBullKid play at midnight. Oh, how we danced. The audience was the friendliness that I’ve ever encountered. We jigged to The Shout Out Louds, jumped to The Brakes, and together we were one. There were human pyramids too. Yes, human pyramids. You know who you are you charming lot.
“They will crawl out as darkness falls, to be sick, to defecate, to release cramped limbs, to find out whether the muffled roaring, stinking, crackly noise is their home or the whole earth burning. They will seek out, in compassion, the sobs and moans of those alive and trapped in wreckage, perhaps desperately hoping that they are their own or someone known whom they might help.
They will be exposed, become contaminated, irradiated. Compassion, the humane response will be their executioner. They will carry contamination back to their holes in the rubble. Soon the children will vomit, weaken and begin to die. Their gravediggers too, will be dying”
Crucible of Despair: Effects of Nuclear War, Anthony Tucker & John Gleisner (1982)
Fabpants Recommends: Listening to deep, dark, miserable, but stunningly beautiful music at the gym.
Perhaps it’s a reaction to the sugar coated pop that bellows out of the gym’s speakers, perhaps it’s in honour of the work that the gym releases me from, or perhaps it’s just a product of my personality, but I love listening to miserable music at the gym.
Yesterday, when This Mortal Coil’s ‘Song to the Siren’, The Radio Dept’s ‘Strange Things will Happen’ and Joy Division’s ‘Atmosphere’ randomly played in that very order, I couldn’t stop grinning. The dark side of life is so beautiful. I find myself falling in love with it, and the music that honours its depth.
For your next run:
Download MP3: This Mortal Coil – Song to the Siren (courtesy of animazeinc.com)
Download MP3: The Radio Dept – Strange Things Will Happen (courtesy of anyones-guess.com)
Download MP3: Joy Division – Atmosphere (courtesy of vaguespace.net)
Postscript:
I’m aware that I never told you all about my amazing canoeing trip in Norfolk. It encompassed Windmills, Lighthouses, Tall Church Towers, Birds, Butterflies, A City of Elephants, Short Sharp Showers and some Amazing Three Point Turns.
Also sidelined: ‘At Home by the Sea’ Festival and other short stories from ‘The Weekend that the German came to Stay’. Sorry, I’ve been a bit busy. Perhaps, one day, you will hear the amazing tale of Slow Club in the corner, and about the charm of Peggy Sue and the Pirates and their lobster fingered punchlines. Under The Arches, only a sheet of tarpaulin protected us from being battered to death by rain. I mustn’t forget to mention the perfection of seeing the CocknBullKid play at midnight. Oh, how we danced. The audience was the friendliness that I’ve ever encountered. We jigged to The Shout Out Louds, jumped to The Brakes, and together we were one. There were human pyramids too. Yes, human pyramids. You know who you are you charming lot.
Monday, 11 August 2008
The Atom Bomb Survivors and The Day Today
I went to work on illegal drugs today. I was on Cetirizine Dihydrochloride, as supplied by my Dad. Free scripts for all.
The world is full of happiness and sadness, silliness and seriousness, and today I prescribe all.
For now, it's time to return to the serious matter of nuclear warfare as promised, but later there will be fun in the form of a ‘Fabpants Recommends’.
For those of you new to planet earth and its atrocities, the Twentieth Century was plagued by warfare. Bombs fell from the sky like giant balls of hail. So many nations took to fighting, that two ‘World Wars’ managed to decimate people from earth's four corners and beyond. Everybody wanted a piece of death. Today’s quotes come from survivors of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings; from the people that managed to live.
The First World War was from 1914-1918. 20 million people died. Half of the deaths were civilian.
The Second World War was from 1939-1945. 70 million people died. Most of the deaths were civilian. Dying became increasingly popular. The First World War was a practice run. The Second World War was the real thing.
“You know how to stop a kid from smoking? Make them smoke a whole packet of cigarettes at once. You know how to stop wars? Kill thousands of people at once.”
Sign up here to die for the children that you’ll never be able to have. Oh, you don’t want to? Did you just point at those people over there? Did you just suggest dropping an atomic bomb right on their heads? Oh you.
On August 6, 1945, an atomic bomb fell from a small plane called the Enola Gay. It crash-landed on a city called Hiroshima in Japan. The populace and its property became fodder for a deadly poisonous mushroom cloud that rose 20000 feet into the air and destroyed an entire city. One small bomb killed tens of thousands of civilians. The bomb was born in the USA, and the USA became the biggest superpower of all. Might is right.
Is it right to create hell on earth in the hope that a nation of people might enjoy yet another apple pie? Was it justified? Did it prevent more deaths than it caused?
“The appearance of the people was... well, they all had skin blackened by burns... They held their arms bent (forward),... and their skin – not only on their hands, but on their faces and bodies too - hung down. If there had been only one or two such people... perhaps I would not have had such a string impression. But whenever I walked I met these people... Many of them died along the road – I can still picture them in my mind – like walking ghosts.”
A survivor quoted in Robert Jay Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima (1967).
"Everything I saw made a deep impression-a park nearby covered with dead bodies waiting to be cremated.... very badly injured people evacuated in my direction.... The most impressive thing that I saw was some girls, very young girls, not only with their clothes torn off but with their skin peeled off as well.... My immediate thought was that this was like the hell I had read about.... I had never seen anything which resembled it before, but I thought should that there be a hell, this was it."
A survivor quoted in Robert Jay Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima (1967).
Approximately, 80,000 died immediately from the Hiroshima explosion. Three days later, the United States struck again, this time, on Nagasaki. The world had to see what was possible twice. It was the only way.
“The pumpkin field in front of the house was blown clean. Nothing was left of the whole thick crop, except that in place of the pumpkins there was a woman's head. I looked at the face to see if I knew her. It was a woman of about forty. She must have been from another part of town -- I had never seen her around here. A gold tooth gleamed in the wide-open mouth. A handful of singed hair hung down from the left temple over her cheek, dangling in her mouth. Her eyelids were drawn up, showing black holes where the eyes had been burned out. . . . She had probably looked square into the flash and gotten her eyeballs burned.”
Fujie Urata Matsumoto as quoted in Takashi Nagai, We of Nagasaki: The Story of Survivors in an Atomic Wasteland (1964).
Casualty estimates for immediate deaths in Nagasaki range from 40,000 to 75,000.
The final body counts for two atomic bombings are unknown. Long gruelling deaths are harder to count.
Meanwhile, humankind continued and a species lived in terror. Was there a Third World War just around the corner? A war to wipe out humanity forever?
The last war was in 1945. The liberation of earth from the tyranny of humankind will not be a war. We don’t have wars anymore. We have political conflicts, actions, engagements or affairs. By the time we blow ourselves up, we might be having weddings, dances, fracas’ or scuffles. Whatever we decide to call the bloodbath, it won’t be war. The atomic bomb stopped war forever.
Further Reading:
Robert Jay Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima
Kyoko Iriye Selden, Kyoko Selden, Mark Selden, The Atomic Bomb: Voices from Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Fabpants Recommends: Man on Wire (2008) – Warning: This film contains beautiful dialogue, inspirational content and a spirit of adventure. If the Twin Towers still existed, I’d be on a tightrope dancing between them right now.
The world is full of happiness and sadness, silliness and seriousness, and today I prescribe all.
For now, it's time to return to the serious matter of nuclear warfare as promised, but later there will be fun in the form of a ‘Fabpants Recommends’.
For those of you new to planet earth and its atrocities, the Twentieth Century was plagued by warfare. Bombs fell from the sky like giant balls of hail. So many nations took to fighting, that two ‘World Wars’ managed to decimate people from earth's four corners and beyond. Everybody wanted a piece of death. Today’s quotes come from survivors of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings; from the people that managed to live.
The First World War was from 1914-1918. 20 million people died. Half of the deaths were civilian.
The Second World War was from 1939-1945. 70 million people died. Most of the deaths were civilian. Dying became increasingly popular. The First World War was a practice run. The Second World War was the real thing.
“You know how to stop a kid from smoking? Make them smoke a whole packet of cigarettes at once. You know how to stop wars? Kill thousands of people at once.”
Sign up here to die for the children that you’ll never be able to have. Oh, you don’t want to? Did you just point at those people over there? Did you just suggest dropping an atomic bomb right on their heads? Oh you.
On August 6, 1945, an atomic bomb fell from a small plane called the Enola Gay. It crash-landed on a city called Hiroshima in Japan. The populace and its property became fodder for a deadly poisonous mushroom cloud that rose 20000 feet into the air and destroyed an entire city. One small bomb killed tens of thousands of civilians. The bomb was born in the USA, and the USA became the biggest superpower of all. Might is right.
Is it right to create hell on earth in the hope that a nation of people might enjoy yet another apple pie? Was it justified? Did it prevent more deaths than it caused?
“The appearance of the people was... well, they all had skin blackened by burns... They held their arms bent (forward),... and their skin – not only on their hands, but on their faces and bodies too - hung down. If there had been only one or two such people... perhaps I would not have had such a string impression. But whenever I walked I met these people... Many of them died along the road – I can still picture them in my mind – like walking ghosts.”
A survivor quoted in Robert Jay Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima (1967).
"Everything I saw made a deep impression-a park nearby covered with dead bodies waiting to be cremated.... very badly injured people evacuated in my direction.... The most impressive thing that I saw was some girls, very young girls, not only with their clothes torn off but with their skin peeled off as well.... My immediate thought was that this was like the hell I had read about.... I had never seen anything which resembled it before, but I thought should that there be a hell, this was it."
A survivor quoted in Robert Jay Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima (1967).
Approximately, 80,000 died immediately from the Hiroshima explosion. Three days later, the United States struck again, this time, on Nagasaki. The world had to see what was possible twice. It was the only way.
“The pumpkin field in front of the house was blown clean. Nothing was left of the whole thick crop, except that in place of the pumpkins there was a woman's head. I looked at the face to see if I knew her. It was a woman of about forty. She must have been from another part of town -- I had never seen her around here. A gold tooth gleamed in the wide-open mouth. A handful of singed hair hung down from the left temple over her cheek, dangling in her mouth. Her eyelids were drawn up, showing black holes where the eyes had been burned out. . . . She had probably looked square into the flash and gotten her eyeballs burned.”
Fujie Urata Matsumoto as quoted in Takashi Nagai, We of Nagasaki: The Story of Survivors in an Atomic Wasteland (1964).
Casualty estimates for immediate deaths in Nagasaki range from 40,000 to 75,000.
The final body counts for two atomic bombings are unknown. Long gruelling deaths are harder to count.
Meanwhile, humankind continued and a species lived in terror. Was there a Third World War just around the corner? A war to wipe out humanity forever?
The last war was in 1945. The liberation of earth from the tyranny of humankind will not be a war. We don’t have wars anymore. We have political conflicts, actions, engagements or affairs. By the time we blow ourselves up, we might be having weddings, dances, fracas’ or scuffles. Whatever we decide to call the bloodbath, it won’t be war. The atomic bomb stopped war forever.
Further Reading:
Robert Jay Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima
Kyoko Iriye Selden, Kyoko Selden, Mark Selden, The Atomic Bomb: Voices from Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Fabpants Recommends: Man on Wire (2008) – Warning: This film contains beautiful dialogue, inspirational content and a spirit of adventure. If the Twin Towers still existed, I’d be on a tightrope dancing between them right now.
