Look a Book: Bristol, Banksy and Monkey Rats

Banksy's Bristol: Home Sweet Home
The Unofficial Guide
By Steve Wright

I read this book during one sunny weekend in April. That weekend I wondered where I went wrong. Why had I never lived in Bristol? Brighton's so clichéd and London’s so expansive.

Bristol, now there's a city, and it's a real a city. It's not just a collection of people living on top of each other, paying through the nose for a tiny piece of real estate, fighting over land and hoping to catch a piece of cool.

Bristol's naturally alternative. It's not some London spin off.

Okay, the Massive Attack referencing was lost on me, but the portrayal of the scene in general had me salivating.

The 90s. Mixed in with the graffiti artists were the hip-hop crews, the ravers and the political idealists. Read the interviews, feel the enthusiasm and note the lack of ego. It's inspiring.

It's unfortunate that, as Matthew Smith states:
"The whole London thing is crucial. It’s sad, but he would never have become the success he has if he hadn’t left Bristol and got his work on the walls of the city that houses all the creative heads of state, most of whom are far too complacent to leave the capital for any length of time. Spraying around Soho, Hoxton and the East End is a great way to become instantly trendy, as long as you have the product..."

This weekend reminded me that I chose to live where I live for damn good reasons. Grass is always greener from a distance.

For the last weekend of the Brighton Festival, I finally embraced it. No longer sidetracked by excursions or visitors, I went to it and it came to me. My journey was organic, unforced, and really quite magical.

On Friday, feeling sorry for myself (a wee sore throat my dears), I spent my lunch break watching a rehearsal in St Nicholas Rest Garden's. This is a peaceful churchyard removed from its church by a nasty road. Without any paying visitors, the show was, for the most part, mine. Musical, comedic and masked, I watched as Shakespeare's Globe Theatre performed one act of the 'The Comedy of Errors' several times. I also got the directorial commentary for gratis. They had a kazoo and were all quite mad. That has to be up there on the best lunch breaks ever list.

Saturday, on a roll, I walked to a spectacular view of the South Downs, visited once before on one of the bus walks that we’re endeavouring to walk in numerical order, some Sunday’s. We’ve managed six so far, and as of Saturday, we’ve done ‘Walk 3’ twice.

Against the backdrop of the city and the sea, there sat the view, cleansed and re-captured in Anish Kapoor's C-Curve. On the backside, the world was turned upside-down and inside out. The C-Curve will be gone by Tuesday. I’m so very glad that I saw it on a perfect sunny morning. "Is it far?" an elderly lady asked. We reassured her that it was well worth the walk. I anticipated that her feisty spirit would make it so. That'll be me in years to come, posh accent an' all. I practice in my sleep.

Then in the heart of town, Fringe Streets beckoned. Children sat eyes agog. An assemblage of grinning masses, myself included, witnessed stunts galore. The freaks on the streets have really upped their game, and this was the best yet. Flamethrowers attached to stunt cars jumped members of the public, violinists stood on each other’s shoulders, clowns performed to stories and, for the most part, pure idiocy reigned. The Fringe Streets are free to attend and they occur every Saturday of the festival. Next year, be there.

Yesterday, the weather was piping; the Bank holiday dream.

Several years ago, with the help of many, I organised a festival in our back garden. It was called Gardenbury. There was a free cocktail bar, a free barbeque, lots of bands and DJs and a polite visit from the noise police. It was a major success, still talked of to this day.

One Renée McAlister had been booked to play, but - alas and alack - could not make it on the day. Renée is a performance poet, finalist in the UK poetry slam and a brilliant person for many other reasons. Yesterday, I finally saw her perform and it was amazing. In the 'Smack Your Beach Hut' Open House, Renée was so good, that I, yes me, got a personal thanks for my facial expressions from another attendee.

Then, as happens, friends led me astray. I had intended to bike to the Marina to see more street performers, but instead I saw four more Open Houses close by. I'd never even been to an Open House before.

The idea of going into a stranger's house and refusing their cakes and Pimm's frightens me a little, but, when with friends, anything goes. Our second port of call was The Regency Town House in Brunswick Square. The building’s currently undergoing a long restoration process, but getting arty in the meantime. We walked into a darkened room, collected a pair of 3-D specs and lay on mats in a damp scented room. A naked lady hung from the ceiling. She slowly turned, showed us her breasts, slim stomach and pubic triangle. Then she showed us her bottom once more. It was oddly brilliant. The Revery Alone is a film installation by Billy Cowie. Eleonore Ansari, the naked one, has a body to envy.

To finish my sidetrack, we visited Embassy Court, which I last visited prior to restoration, when the ceiling threatened to fall on my head. The best part of yesterday's visit, was being able to freely roam the 50s seafront building with stunning views of Hove Lawns, the West Pier, the French Market, and lots of gently roasting and very happy people. The man with his tin can art in the basement was rather cool too.

It's been a proper bank holiday. Under the watchful eye of evil gnomes, the back garden got lots of attention too.

Fabpants Recommends I’m seeing Deerhunter tonight. So let’s warm up now... With some completely different music and, to be quite honest, far better.

Download MP3: Future of the Left - Arming Eritrea (courtesy of gimmetinnitus.com)




Download MP3: Future of the Left - You Need Satan More Than He Needs You (courtesy of merryswankster.com)




The new Future of the Left album, 'Travels with Myself and Another', is out.

Oh, and before I forget, the Alternative Great Escape was brilliant. Much better than queuing for great bands that you never get to see at the real thing. Once A Thief, The Muscle Club, Sam Issac and Kyte put on a great show. Pulled Apart By Horses were on at midnight and it was a school night. I went home instead of waiting 45minutes for them, which is a bit crap of me. As well as free entry, I got given a free drink at the bar!