London Fields # 34
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 27 December 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
It’s slightly strange for me to say that 2006 was a good time to be in the UK as I spent nearly two months of it over in Australia. Although the vibrant live scene is a valid reason for missing the place, it’s becoming harder to justify remaining in London. The problem isn’t the weather, nor the high cost of living, but the undercurrent of fear which permeates the entire society. Australia is lucky to be without this feeling of dread and the sense of bubbling aggression; tempers are often short and you need to put on a hard emotional shell just to go to the shops.
Sometimes it is worth the effort to get out though. After a ten-year gap, Paul Buchanan toured twice, playing the songs of The Blue Nile. The opening show at the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester was simply wonderful; silence followed each track as the audience were afraid to break the spell; this was followed by mad and extensive applause and cheering! Mogwai also floored me, but the highlight of the year was watching over twenty members of Swedish mega-group I’m From Barcelona cram onto a small stage in Hoxton, and then invite members of the audience as temporary performers, breaking down the role between artist and audience, and providing one of the most joyous and exciting musical experiences in years.
New discoveries included iLiKETRAiNS (a brilliantly original act, creating magic in an age of science), Model Morning (determinedly stunning), and the truly extraordinary Evi Vine - an enormous talent with a breathtaking voice and presence, working with a group of musicians who bring her dark swirling worlds vibrantly to bitter and beautiful life.
But some older names played too, with varying success. Ian McCulloch loving the sound of his croon, and giving us reason to do so as well, made the current incarnation of Echo and the Bunnymen a vital force, despite a mediocre drummer. Heaven 17 returned to live performance, and Glenn Gregory’s voice is better than ever. John Foxx has finally successfully fused then and now, with the assistance of long-time collaborator Louis Gordon. But the eighties revival was also responsible for the most indulgent twaddle of the year, a solo performance by Thomas Dolby, his first gig in the UK since the early ‘90’s. There was barely room on stage for his ego, and he talked and talked, which meant even some of his great early material was marred by his persona. For the encore, he brought his kids on stage, and then played a track with his teenage daughter, who was dressed as Dolby was in his heyday. Yeech!
Other disappointments? Hope Of The States split after releasing a lacklustre second LP. Editors’ relentless tour of The Back Room found them playing enormous venues, but saw a previously great live act become one without edge or direction. Watching The Drones only London show, I thought of The Emperor’s New Clothes. They failed to sell out, despite the small venue, and I can’t see them finding more than a niche market here - Britain just won’t gel with what they do at all.
It wasn’t a great year for albums either. The Long Blondes should have waltzed away with LP of the year, but their rough edges were sanded down in the production process, leaving Someone To Drive You Home sounding a little lifeless. Better was The Veils work with Nick Launay on Nux Vomica - they produced a notable second debut (well, it is an entirely new band) and the live shows matched the album’s intensity. My Latest Novel showed how powerful and punchy the basic ingredients of twee pop could be made, while Archie Bronson Outfit, consistently one of the best live acts on the circuit, captured an inkling of their power on Derdang Derdang.
Television saw David Tennant take over in Doctor Who, but the second season was less reinvention and more a continuation of the original series, and suffered because of it. “Adult” spin-off Torchwood was no more than mildly diverting, despite some nice ideas and acting; Life On Mars was more successful and blending sci-fi and drama for evening viewing. The second series of Extras was still funny, but all the characterisation that marked the first series was gone. Little Miss Jocelyn was probably the best new original comedy. In radio, DAB (digital audio broadcasting) continued to grow, and BBC 6Music’s output made a DAB radio a near essential purchase.
In 2007, we can look forward to a new Prime Minister, terrorist fears, the introduction of National Identity Cards and lots of mirroring of New Labour from David Cameron. Musically look out for debut albums from Apartment, iLiKETRAiNS and Fields, and second albums from Editors, Bloc Party and The Duke Spirit. As long as nastiness doesn’t erupt, it could be a great year…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 27 December 2006
Wednesday, 29 November 2006
Everyone Says I'm Paranoid
London Fields # 33
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 29 November 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Is Britain heading towards the dystopia predicted in George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four? Spin doctors are straight from the Ministry Of Truth, and while reality TV has softened the concept, the question remains “Is Big Brother watching you?” There are currently 4.2 million CCTV cameras in Britain, and around half a million of those are in London. Recently published figures suggest that you’ll be filmed about 300 times on a day out in the capital. This camera footage is also linked to numberplate recognition software to see if the £8 daily congestion charge for driving in central London has been paid.
But you can avoid the charge if you use public transport, and the cheapest way of doing this is by Oystercard, a smart card which will eventually eliminate paper tickets and cash fares. There’s great pressure for punters to switch - some buses don’t sell tickets on board, and cash fares now cost about double those made by Oystercard. Yet every single journey you make is monitored, and CCTV footage can link you to your card, even if it’s an unregistered, pay-as-you-go one. As a punter, the only time this journey-tracking really comes into its own is when you’ve been partying hard and can’t remember just how you got home. All you have to do is place your card on the reader in the station and hey presto – your forgotten past is there on the screen as your journeys of the previous evening are displayed. But what else could this information be used for?
Recycling of domestic waste is still in its infancy in the UK; many folks will dump their newspapers into the wheelie bin rather than the recycling box next to it. To meet tough new government targets, compulsory recycling is being introduced, involving random checks, and warnings or fines for non-compliance. More stringent measures include the use of hidden cameras, and in one council simply refused to collect a household’s domestic waste because it contained recyclable materials.
New biometric UK passports have just been introduced to meet the stricter requirements of a post-9/11 US. Already you need to submit to having your fingerprints taken if you wish to enter the USA. But a new UK scheme is asking drinkers for them to be fingerprinted before they’ll be served in the pub! The idea is to cut alcohol-related crime, and it’s already been tried as a pilot scheme in the village of Yeovil in Somerset. Publicans who didn’t want to join in the scheme were told they faced having their licences revoked if they refused. The scheme is set to expand, as figures showed a 48% drop in violent alcohol-related crime over six months in the pilot area. So if you’re barred, you’ll stay barred! I wonder what Liam Gallagher and Pete Doherty will make of this? Recent newspaper reports claim that they’re scouring Kentish Town, looking for the right local to take over and run.
The British judicial system is the model on which many others are based. In April last year, the double jeopardy law, which prevented someone being tried for the same crime twice, was removed after being a part of law for 800-odd years. It could be successfully argued that the law had to be changed following the unsuccessful prosecutions of those involved in the murder of black teenager Stephen Lawrence. So sometimes age-old laws need to change or evolve, but consider the case of anti-war protestor Brian Haw, who has held a one-man protest in Parliament Square, outside the Houses of Parliament, since June 2001. Existing laws were unable to remove him. In answer came the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005 (SPOCA), which prohibits protests within a one kilometre radius of, yup, Parliament Square! Following a High Court battle, sections of the legislation have been applied retrospectively, and he is now facing criminal charges.
It could be argued that all this is necessary in the dangerous world of 2006. Dame Eliza Manningham-Buller, the head of MI5, has said that there are at least 200 al-Qaeda cells operating in the UK, and that the agency is currently tracking over 1600 people, and investigating 30 major plots, and 200 others. This, she says, is an 80% increase in casework since January, and went on to say “I wish life were like Spooks, where everything is knowable and soluble by six people”. Yet the recent fifth series of Spooks continually repeated the mantra that the stakes were raised, and previously accepted freedoms just weren’t possible in this new world. So now policeman have cameras fitted to their hats, and are carrying devices allowing people to be electronically fingerprinted in the street, when previously an arrest was needed to do this.
So, in summary they’re watching us, and monitoring what we buy and where we go, and even what we throw out. Some may argue that only the guilty need fear this level of intrusion, as the innocent have nothing to hide. The worry is what this information may be used for. Just remember - no matter how many pictures you take on your London trip, more will be taken of you!
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 29 November 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Is Britain heading towards the dystopia predicted in George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four? Spin doctors are straight from the Ministry Of Truth, and while reality TV has softened the concept, the question remains “Is Big Brother watching you?” There are currently 4.2 million CCTV cameras in Britain, and around half a million of those are in London. Recently published figures suggest that you’ll be filmed about 300 times on a day out in the capital. This camera footage is also linked to numberplate recognition software to see if the £8 daily congestion charge for driving in central London has been paid.
But you can avoid the charge if you use public transport, and the cheapest way of doing this is by Oystercard, a smart card which will eventually eliminate paper tickets and cash fares. There’s great pressure for punters to switch - some buses don’t sell tickets on board, and cash fares now cost about double those made by Oystercard. Yet every single journey you make is monitored, and CCTV footage can link you to your card, even if it’s an unregistered, pay-as-you-go one. As a punter, the only time this journey-tracking really comes into its own is when you’ve been partying hard and can’t remember just how you got home. All you have to do is place your card on the reader in the station and hey presto – your forgotten past is there on the screen as your journeys of the previous evening are displayed. But what else could this information be used for?
Recycling of domestic waste is still in its infancy in the UK; many folks will dump their newspapers into the wheelie bin rather than the recycling box next to it. To meet tough new government targets, compulsory recycling is being introduced, involving random checks, and warnings or fines for non-compliance. More stringent measures include the use of hidden cameras, and in one council simply refused to collect a household’s domestic waste because it contained recyclable materials.
New biometric UK passports have just been introduced to meet the stricter requirements of a post-9/11 US. Already you need to submit to having your fingerprints taken if you wish to enter the USA. But a new UK scheme is asking drinkers for them to be fingerprinted before they’ll be served in the pub! The idea is to cut alcohol-related crime, and it’s already been tried as a pilot scheme in the village of Yeovil in Somerset. Publicans who didn’t want to join in the scheme were told they faced having their licences revoked if they refused. The scheme is set to expand, as figures showed a 48% drop in violent alcohol-related crime over six months in the pilot area. So if you’re barred, you’ll stay barred! I wonder what Liam Gallagher and Pete Doherty will make of this? Recent newspaper reports claim that they’re scouring Kentish Town, looking for the right local to take over and run.
The British judicial system is the model on which many others are based. In April last year, the double jeopardy law, which prevented someone being tried for the same crime twice, was removed after being a part of law for 800-odd years. It could be successfully argued that the law had to be changed following the unsuccessful prosecutions of those involved in the murder of black teenager Stephen Lawrence. So sometimes age-old laws need to change or evolve, but consider the case of anti-war protestor Brian Haw, who has held a one-man protest in Parliament Square, outside the Houses of Parliament, since June 2001. Existing laws were unable to remove him. In answer came the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005 (SPOCA), which prohibits protests within a one kilometre radius of, yup, Parliament Square! Following a High Court battle, sections of the legislation have been applied retrospectively, and he is now facing criminal charges.
It could be argued that all this is necessary in the dangerous world of 2006. Dame Eliza Manningham-Buller, the head of MI5, has said that there are at least 200 al-Qaeda cells operating in the UK, and that the agency is currently tracking over 1600 people, and investigating 30 major plots, and 200 others. This, she says, is an 80% increase in casework since January, and went on to say “I wish life were like Spooks, where everything is knowable and soluble by six people”. Yet the recent fifth series of Spooks continually repeated the mantra that the stakes were raised, and previously accepted freedoms just weren’t possible in this new world. So now policeman have cameras fitted to their hats, and are carrying devices allowing people to be electronically fingerprinted in the street, when previously an arrest was needed to do this.
So, in summary they’re watching us, and monitoring what we buy and where we go, and even what we throw out. Some may argue that only the guilty need fear this level of intrusion, as the innocent have nothing to hide. The worry is what this information may be used for. Just remember - no matter how many pictures you take on your London trip, more will be taken of you!
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 1 November 2006
Next Wave
London Fields # 32
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 November 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The live scene in London is probably the healthiest it’s been for any time in the last thirty years. But the sheer popularity has led to its own problems - big, rowdy crowds in large anonymous rooms leading to less-than-enjoyable nights. So now a night at the Brixton Jamm is better than one at the Brixton Academy, and the 250 capacity Luminaire in Kilburn certainly deserved winning the Time Out award as best venue over many of its better known competitors.Not that going smaller means missing out though.
There’s a great chemistry between the four members of Bethnal Green based Apartment. Around 18 months ago they were in a similar position to Editors. But Apartment took a slower route, choosing to release a few independent singles and then setting up their own label, Fleet Street Records. The time involved has led to a richer and more integrated live sound, helped by the addition of occasional keyboards by frontman David Caggiari. He has a great voice, and he knows it, but sings without pretension. The evolution is evident on their forthcoming debut album The Dreamer Evasive, which will be released early in 2007, and is even better than their live performances or singles indicated. Their days in small venues are numbered.
With Hope Of The States splitting earlier this year, I wondered who was might fill that gap by creating big emotional music? Look no further than Leeds-based iLiKETRAiNS, who sing of doubt and times lost - things that have slipped away or been forgotten. Recently signed to Beggars Banquet, their songs are explorations of real people and events, such as chess legend Bobby Fischer, or Dr Beeching, whose ideas led to the slow demise of the UK Railways. But the standout is Terra Nova, which relates the thoughts of a doomed Captain Scott as his expedition lies dying in Antarctica in 1912 – it’s probably the finest song of the year. On stage, they dress in British Rail uniforms – these clothes represent another lost era, as this nationalised rail company was smashed up and sold off by Thatcher. Complemented by projected images, they create huge rolls of sound that wash over you, full of feeling and anguish, the trumpet and shoegazey guitar duelling with one another, sending shivers up the spine. How rare it is that the singer in not the focus - the individual becomes unimportant, - it’s all about the sounds created when the five of them collide. It’s just so incredibly powerful – there really is no one else like them.
But the first time I saw them they were was at a Sonic Cathedral night curated by Fields, who also have a huge live sound and the potential to leave you standing in awe. Their music is hard to describe – a bit folky but with a darker undercurrent, the best songs working on the interplay between the acoustic guitars, the powerful drumming, and the big builds to huge the vocal choruses. I didn’t think they’d be able to produce that studio sound live, but they open with Song For The Fields, all doubts vanish and I’m instantly hooked. Officially they’re only released one 7” single and a four-track EP, but there are currently 20 tracks downloadable via their website. Nick from the band said he liked fans to see the evolution of the material, and so was happy to share it. It certainly didn’t do Arctic Monkeys any harm either. They’ve just finished recording their first album with noted rock producer Michael Beinhorn for Atlantic Records. They’re supporting Wolfmother on the NME Tour this month, and will be playing with Bloc Party both in the US and the UK early next year; so it won’t be long before they get the recognition they warrant.
Fields do also remind me a little of the acoustic side of Seafood as well. Remember them? Yes, they’re still around. Since their last trip to Australia, they signed to Cooking Vinyl, released two albums, lost their bass player, and singer David Line has suffered a collapsed lung (twice). With all this adversity, and a lack of airplay for new album Paper Crown King, I travelled down to Brighton to catch the final gig of the current tour, fearing that all this adversity would be too much to bear. Before the show guitarist Kevin Penney assured me that if they were going to quit, they would have done it long ago. While it was by no means the best show I’ve seen them play, they are still a great act, which deserves to be much more popular than they are. Perhaps the difficulty is in the variety of music they produce – how does the hard rock fan handle a song from The Wicker Man? It’s a difficult line for them to walk, and in trying to address the balance, the new LP lacks some of the charm of As The Cry Flows. The good news in the current album may yet get Australian release in 2007, and they’d love to tour there again.
Don’t miss My Latest Novel or Archie Bronson Outfit when they tour either. But all this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s also Vatican DC, who have one of the most arresting frontmen since Julian Cope, and Spotlight Kid who had my heart leaping with joy, and…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 1 November 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The live scene in London is probably the healthiest it’s been for any time in the last thirty years. But the sheer popularity has led to its own problems - big, rowdy crowds in large anonymous rooms leading to less-than-enjoyable nights. So now a night at the Brixton Jamm is better than one at the Brixton Academy, and the 250 capacity Luminaire in Kilburn certainly deserved winning the Time Out award as best venue over many of its better known competitors.Not that going smaller means missing out though.
There’s a great chemistry between the four members of Bethnal Green based Apartment. Around 18 months ago they were in a similar position to Editors. But Apartment took a slower route, choosing to release a few independent singles and then setting up their own label, Fleet Street Records. The time involved has led to a richer and more integrated live sound, helped by the addition of occasional keyboards by frontman David Caggiari. He has a great voice, and he knows it, but sings without pretension. The evolution is evident on their forthcoming debut album The Dreamer Evasive, which will be released early in 2007, and is even better than their live performances or singles indicated. Their days in small venues are numbered.
With Hope Of The States splitting earlier this year, I wondered who was might fill that gap by creating big emotional music? Look no further than Leeds-based iLiKETRAiNS, who sing of doubt and times lost - things that have slipped away or been forgotten. Recently signed to Beggars Banquet, their songs are explorations of real people and events, such as chess legend Bobby Fischer, or Dr Beeching, whose ideas led to the slow demise of the UK Railways. But the standout is Terra Nova, which relates the thoughts of a doomed Captain Scott as his expedition lies dying in Antarctica in 1912 – it’s probably the finest song of the year. On stage, they dress in British Rail uniforms – these clothes represent another lost era, as this nationalised rail company was smashed up and sold off by Thatcher. Complemented by projected images, they create huge rolls of sound that wash over you, full of feeling and anguish, the trumpet and shoegazey guitar duelling with one another, sending shivers up the spine. How rare it is that the singer in not the focus - the individual becomes unimportant, - it’s all about the sounds created when the five of them collide. It’s just so incredibly powerful – there really is no one else like them.
But the first time I saw them they were was at a Sonic Cathedral night curated by Fields, who also have a huge live sound and the potential to leave you standing in awe. Their music is hard to describe – a bit folky but with a darker undercurrent, the best songs working on the interplay between the acoustic guitars, the powerful drumming, and the big builds to huge the vocal choruses. I didn’t think they’d be able to produce that studio sound live, but they open with Song For The Fields, all doubts vanish and I’m instantly hooked. Officially they’re only released one 7” single and a four-track EP, but there are currently 20 tracks downloadable via their website. Nick from the band said he liked fans to see the evolution of the material, and so was happy to share it. It certainly didn’t do Arctic Monkeys any harm either. They’ve just finished recording their first album with noted rock producer Michael Beinhorn for Atlantic Records. They’re supporting Wolfmother on the NME Tour this month, and will be playing with Bloc Party both in the US and the UK early next year; so it won’t be long before they get the recognition they warrant.
Fields do also remind me a little of the acoustic side of Seafood as well. Remember them? Yes, they’re still around. Since their last trip to Australia, they signed to Cooking Vinyl, released two albums, lost their bass player, and singer David Line has suffered a collapsed lung (twice). With all this adversity, and a lack of airplay for new album Paper Crown King, I travelled down to Brighton to catch the final gig of the current tour, fearing that all this adversity would be too much to bear. Before the show guitarist Kevin Penney assured me that if they were going to quit, they would have done it long ago. While it was by no means the best show I’ve seen them play, they are still a great act, which deserves to be much more popular than they are. Perhaps the difficulty is in the variety of music they produce – how does the hard rock fan handle a song from The Wicker Man? It’s a difficult line for them to walk, and in trying to address the balance, the new LP lacks some of the charm of As The Cry Flows. The good news in the current album may yet get Australian release in 2007, and they’d love to tour there again.
Don’t miss My Latest Novel or Archie Bronson Outfit when they tour either. But all this is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s also Vatican DC, who have one of the most arresting frontmen since Julian Cope, and Spotlight Kid who had my heart leaping with joy, and…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 4 October 2006
Health Of A Nation
London Fields # 31
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 4 October 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Maybe it’s a delayed reaction to the rationing which continued for years after the Second World War, but it seems as if Britain has become a gluttonous nation. This self obsession isn’t only about food – it’s apparently an overall need to consume. In a report published last week, it was revealed that the average amount of debt each Briton had accrued was approximately £3175. This is more than double the European average, and the figure doesn’t include mortgages.
But if only all the gorging greed was financial. As the nation slips into obesity, the messages are getting stronger than the photos on fag packets. The Food4Thought campaign features the slogan What goes into crisps goes into you, accompanied by a picture of a young girl guzzling a five litre bottle of cooking oil. It certainly works, as the image popped into my mind the next time I was standing in the corner shop feeling peckish. It was produced by The British Heart Foundation, whose research shows that nearly a fifth of all children eat two packets of crisps per day. When you link this to a recent report from the Department Of Health predicted that by 2010 there will be more than 12 million obese adults and one million children unless major action is taken, it’s not a pretty picture.
The other week we had the follow-up special to Jamie’s School Dinners. This ended well for Oliver, the fat-tongued Essex bloke who has The Polyphonic Spree as the soundtrack to his supermarket ads, as retiring PM Tony Blair offered him everything he asked for, obviously realising that this can catch more voters than a campaign bus around Britain. Politicians retiring whilst mid-term are a weird concept. Thatcher couldn’t survive the backlash of her Poll Tax, and her loss of leadership followed the familiar pattern of the party game of king of the castle. For me it was a case of “Thank fuck for that, and about time too!” It’ll be interesting to see how it pans out for Blair over the next twelve months; will he be able to leave when he chooses, and will his long-term legacy remain marred by his foreign policy decisions? Yes, I’ve lived through some pivotal political moments here - the riots of 1990, the defeat of Thatcher, the election of Blair, the death of Diana - some of these are most notable for the reactions they inspired.
Yet Steve Irwin’s death, tragic as it was, could not possibly have affected the nation in the same way as Diana’s did here. But like that death, this was perceived as the loss of one of us, and of course it was time for rent-a-quote. You couldn’t have missed the backlash over the comments made by professional shit-stirrer and Aussie expat Germaine Greer in The Guardian. Now I have to confess I hold a soft spot for Germaine – her head-to-heads with Paul Morley on late night arts discussion programme Newsnight Review offer a bit of much needed life to Friday night telly. But I was more disturbed by those opinions proffered in the “official” tribute programme on ITV1. The view of how Australia was struck by the tragedy was given by Jono Coleman and Kathy Lette. Yes, by two Aussies who together have probably lived in the UK longer that Irwin was alive. Yet somehow they feel that they can speak on behalf of the Australian people, so in tune are they with the country and its people today. Lette is really just embarrassing – everything has to be expressed in appalling word plays. And she told the sunscreen joke – stating Steve Irwin would have laughed at it. Maybe, but you’re just not funny Kathy.
Richard Hammond also nearly had his death captured on film. It’s great that SBS have purchased Top Gear - this was a programme which was axed, then underwent a startling reinvention, and picked up a whole new audience in the process. It’s no surprise that it won an International Emmy at the end of last year, and also no surprise that wowsers have linked Hammond’s accident with Irwin’s death to argue that TV is going too far in search of ratings. The truth of the matter is that in this country Hammond is seen as a funny guy, whilst Irwin was a bit of a joke. As traditional racist targets become unacceptable for all but northern club comedians, Aussies are now seen as fair game to assume the role.
But with galahs like Coleman and Lette acting as our cultural representatives, it’s little wonder that even the news crew on BBC radio station Five Live couldn’t help laughing on air at John Howard’s parliamentary tribute to Irwin. The media has also made a lot of mileage out of the ICC’s new anti-racism rules; Pom has been deemed acceptable language in the face of the upcoming Ashes Tour. I suppose it’s just continuing a tradition of friendly rivalry. The recent Cracker had Fitz summarise Australia as “home of skin cancer and Skippy”. But the best response came from Oz comic Adam Hills. When he was asked recently about British life, he couldn’t see what wasn’t to like: “Nothing works and everyone’s miserable”
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 4 October 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Maybe it’s a delayed reaction to the rationing which continued for years after the Second World War, but it seems as if Britain has become a gluttonous nation. This self obsession isn’t only about food – it’s apparently an overall need to consume. In a report published last week, it was revealed that the average amount of debt each Briton had accrued was approximately £3175. This is more than double the European average, and the figure doesn’t include mortgages.
But if only all the gorging greed was financial. As the nation slips into obesity, the messages are getting stronger than the photos on fag packets. The Food4Thought campaign features the slogan What goes into crisps goes into you, accompanied by a picture of a young girl guzzling a five litre bottle of cooking oil. It certainly works, as the image popped into my mind the next time I was standing in the corner shop feeling peckish. It was produced by The British Heart Foundation, whose research shows that nearly a fifth of all children eat two packets of crisps per day. When you link this to a recent report from the Department Of Health predicted that by 2010 there will be more than 12 million obese adults and one million children unless major action is taken, it’s not a pretty picture.
The other week we had the follow-up special to Jamie’s School Dinners. This ended well for Oliver, the fat-tongued Essex bloke who has The Polyphonic Spree as the soundtrack to his supermarket ads, as retiring PM Tony Blair offered him everything he asked for, obviously realising that this can catch more voters than a campaign bus around Britain. Politicians retiring whilst mid-term are a weird concept. Thatcher couldn’t survive the backlash of her Poll Tax, and her loss of leadership followed the familiar pattern of the party game of king of the castle. For me it was a case of “Thank fuck for that, and about time too!” It’ll be interesting to see how it pans out for Blair over the next twelve months; will he be able to leave when he chooses, and will his long-term legacy remain marred by his foreign policy decisions? Yes, I’ve lived through some pivotal political moments here - the riots of 1990, the defeat of Thatcher, the election of Blair, the death of Diana - some of these are most notable for the reactions they inspired.
Yet Steve Irwin’s death, tragic as it was, could not possibly have affected the nation in the same way as Diana’s did here. But like that death, this was perceived as the loss of one of us, and of course it was time for rent-a-quote. You couldn’t have missed the backlash over the comments made by professional shit-stirrer and Aussie expat Germaine Greer in The Guardian. Now I have to confess I hold a soft spot for Germaine – her head-to-heads with Paul Morley on late night arts discussion programme Newsnight Review offer a bit of much needed life to Friday night telly. But I was more disturbed by those opinions proffered in the “official” tribute programme on ITV1. The view of how Australia was struck by the tragedy was given by Jono Coleman and Kathy Lette. Yes, by two Aussies who together have probably lived in the UK longer that Irwin was alive. Yet somehow they feel that they can speak on behalf of the Australian people, so in tune are they with the country and its people today. Lette is really just embarrassing – everything has to be expressed in appalling word plays. And she told the sunscreen joke – stating Steve Irwin would have laughed at it. Maybe, but you’re just not funny Kathy.
Richard Hammond also nearly had his death captured on film. It’s great that SBS have purchased Top Gear - this was a programme which was axed, then underwent a startling reinvention, and picked up a whole new audience in the process. It’s no surprise that it won an International Emmy at the end of last year, and also no surprise that wowsers have linked Hammond’s accident with Irwin’s death to argue that TV is going too far in search of ratings. The truth of the matter is that in this country Hammond is seen as a funny guy, whilst Irwin was a bit of a joke. As traditional racist targets become unacceptable for all but northern club comedians, Aussies are now seen as fair game to assume the role.
But with galahs like Coleman and Lette acting as our cultural representatives, it’s little wonder that even the news crew on BBC radio station Five Live couldn’t help laughing on air at John Howard’s parliamentary tribute to Irwin. The media has also made a lot of mileage out of the ICC’s new anti-racism rules; Pom has been deemed acceptable language in the face of the upcoming Ashes Tour. I suppose it’s just continuing a tradition of friendly rivalry. The recent Cracker had Fitz summarise Australia as “home of skin cancer and Skippy”. But the best response came from Oz comic Adam Hills. When he was asked recently about British life, he couldn’t see what wasn’t to like: “Nothing works and everyone’s miserable”
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 6 September 2006
Suburban Terrorists
London Fields # 30
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 6 September 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
London isn’t so much a city, as a series of villages and settlements that grew larger and larger until they encroached upon one another until they became an integrated whole. Thus there are still tensions and rivalries both within and between the divergent communities.
I was still at home with flu on 10 August, and had no idea why the air was full with the sound of choppers. Seven houses were raided in my borough, one of them opposite my corner shop. Airports ground to a virtual halt. There were talking heads saying that it was virtually impossible to screen hand luggage in a workable time, and so hand luggage became a no-no.
In the Evening Standard that evening, their article on the raid began: "One of the suspects believed to have been arrested in today’s raids is described as a young man in his twenties with a long beard and who wears traditional Islamic dress…" Meanwhile there’s been talk of racial profiling, and justifiable opposition to it.
But some people have decided to take such matters into their own hands. Passengers on the Monarch Airlines flight from Malaga to Manchester refused to fly because of the ‘suspicious’ actions of two passengers. They weren’t speaking in English, nor were they dressed in Hawaiian shirts, shorts and thongs. Definitely suss - because every good terrorist wants to be as conspicuous as possible, right? Anyway, the flight was kept on the ground until the two Muslim characters were removed. These two students caught a later flight a few hours later without incident.
Just an isolated case perhaps? Well, how about the story of Syed Husain, who’s lived in London for the last thirty years? He made a mistake though when he decided to take his relatives from Dubai on the London Eye - he spoke to them in Arabic. This led to a bag search, where his two small bottles of water and a carton of juice were deemed too great a threat to go on this giant upmarket ferris wheel opposite the Houses of Parliament. So while his rellies were held in a secure area, he made the 25 minute round trip to put the offending bag in a locker at Waterloo Station. Yet this still wasn’t enough for the security guard, who then insisted on a manual search in case this 65 year old man was carrying weapons. And how did British Airways, who own the wheel, react when this story broke? They offered him two free tickets. Yes come to Britain, as long as you dress right and speak English. Sad days indeed!
With all this going on, it seemed like a good idea to get out of the smoke for a while. Seeking fresh air, I headed to the nearest sea, joking with mates that the reason I was heading to Brighton was to stalk Nick Cave. Which was funny as no sooner than I walked off the station concourse than in front of me I spied the unmistakable figure of the tall, sartorially elegant Mr Cave himself.
He still has that ridiculous moustache, and was dressed in an ice cream suit and loafers. By the time I reached him he was sitting in the back of a tourist Tuk-Tuk, which run on fixed routes to Brighton landmarks. I asked him what he’d been up to, and he told me he had a new band called Grinderman, and that the LP would be out next April.
Back home again, I checked out the annual Walthamstow Festival. Last year they had Natasha Atlas and The Beat; this year there was a home-made dalek! Of course, weekend engineering works on the trains coincided with the event, so there were no tubes connecting us to the West End on the Sunday. Anyway, as a part of this, the art project A Thousand Faces of Waltham Forest was transferred to the hoardings of the demolished shopping centre. But in the light of raised suspicions following nearly thirty arrests, these headshots seemed more like a rogues’ gallery than a celebration of diversity. Which probably isn’t the idea behind the borough’s post-raids PR campaign - Waltham Forest: 225,000 people – 1 community.
But I finished the month by taking part in the monthly film quiz at my local. As Waltham Forest is the only London borough without a cinema, the quiz is run by the McGuffins (Alfred Hitchcock was a local lad) to help promote their campaign to reopen the local cinema which shut three years earlier. But what was great was the cross section of locals there, including the local MP. Now maybe not all the community would use a pub, but after all that has happened it was a nice way to spend an evening.
Of course, there are ongoing operations, and between the time I submit this and you read it, who knows what will have transpired. But the message is life in the capital goes on, even if some people have a new interpretation of what is meant by Neighbourhood Watch…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 6 September 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
London isn’t so much a city, as a series of villages and settlements that grew larger and larger until they encroached upon one another until they became an integrated whole. Thus there are still tensions and rivalries both within and between the divergent communities.
I was still at home with flu on 10 August, and had no idea why the air was full with the sound of choppers. Seven houses were raided in my borough, one of them opposite my corner shop. Airports ground to a virtual halt. There were talking heads saying that it was virtually impossible to screen hand luggage in a workable time, and so hand luggage became a no-no.
In the Evening Standard that evening, their article on the raid began: "One of the suspects believed to have been arrested in today’s raids is described as a young man in his twenties with a long beard and who wears traditional Islamic dress…" Meanwhile there’s been talk of racial profiling, and justifiable opposition to it.
But some people have decided to take such matters into their own hands. Passengers on the Monarch Airlines flight from Malaga to Manchester refused to fly because of the ‘suspicious’ actions of two passengers. They weren’t speaking in English, nor were they dressed in Hawaiian shirts, shorts and thongs. Definitely suss - because every good terrorist wants to be as conspicuous as possible, right? Anyway, the flight was kept on the ground until the two Muslim characters were removed. These two students caught a later flight a few hours later without incident.
Just an isolated case perhaps? Well, how about the story of Syed Husain, who’s lived in London for the last thirty years? He made a mistake though when he decided to take his relatives from Dubai on the London Eye - he spoke to them in Arabic. This led to a bag search, where his two small bottles of water and a carton of juice were deemed too great a threat to go on this giant upmarket ferris wheel opposite the Houses of Parliament. So while his rellies were held in a secure area, he made the 25 minute round trip to put the offending bag in a locker at Waterloo Station. Yet this still wasn’t enough for the security guard, who then insisted on a manual search in case this 65 year old man was carrying weapons. And how did British Airways, who own the wheel, react when this story broke? They offered him two free tickets. Yes come to Britain, as long as you dress right and speak English. Sad days indeed!
With all this going on, it seemed like a good idea to get out of the smoke for a while. Seeking fresh air, I headed to the nearest sea, joking with mates that the reason I was heading to Brighton was to stalk Nick Cave. Which was funny as no sooner than I walked off the station concourse than in front of me I spied the unmistakable figure of the tall, sartorially elegant Mr Cave himself.
He still has that ridiculous moustache, and was dressed in an ice cream suit and loafers. By the time I reached him he was sitting in the back of a tourist Tuk-Tuk, which run on fixed routes to Brighton landmarks. I asked him what he’d been up to, and he told me he had a new band called Grinderman, and that the LP would be out next April.
Back home again, I checked out the annual Walthamstow Festival. Last year they had Natasha Atlas and The Beat; this year there was a home-made dalek! Of course, weekend engineering works on the trains coincided with the event, so there were no tubes connecting us to the West End on the Sunday. Anyway, as a part of this, the art project A Thousand Faces of Waltham Forest was transferred to the hoardings of the demolished shopping centre. But in the light of raised suspicions following nearly thirty arrests, these headshots seemed more like a rogues’ gallery than a celebration of diversity. Which probably isn’t the idea behind the borough’s post-raids PR campaign - Waltham Forest: 225,000 people – 1 community.
But I finished the month by taking part in the monthly film quiz at my local. As Waltham Forest is the only London borough without a cinema, the quiz is run by the McGuffins (Alfred Hitchcock was a local lad) to help promote their campaign to reopen the local cinema which shut three years earlier. But what was great was the cross section of locals there, including the local MP. Now maybe not all the community would use a pub, but after all that has happened it was a nice way to spend an evening.
Of course, there are ongoing operations, and between the time I submit this and you read it, who knows what will have transpired. But the message is life in the capital goes on, even if some people have a new interpretation of what is meant by Neighbourhood Watch…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 9 August 2006
On Film
London Fields # 29
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 9 August 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Living in a city this big can be an isolating experience. It’s hard to get to know people, and friends may live literally hours away. I’ve been stuck at home with flu contemplating this, and other conundrums of capital living.
This has also given me a lot of time to vegetate in front of the television. But even with hundreds of subscription TV channels, it can still be hard to find something to watch. For some reason I’ve found myself watching a film called Perfect Strangers on more than one occasion. Made a couple of years back, it tells the story of two advertising executives, who swap cities (New York and London), lives and jobs. So while Brit Anna Friel is swept up in the big apple, Rob Lowe takes over her cottage and job in London.
Naturally the London portrayed in the film bears no resemblance to the real thing. There’s no traffic, you can park your car anywhere, your home is simple and beautiful [but would cost a bomb in reality], and clubs are spacious and smoke-free. OK, so this is a romantic comedy, a romance where the pair discovers each other without actually meeting, but in their world they have to come up with a campaign to get American tourists back to London. Their brainstorm is to sweep away the whole notion of history and beefeaters to portray it as a vibrant city of lovers, all set to a jazz score. Of course, it’s a great success.
For no explicable reason, BBC Four had a mini Australian season last week. Featured was a documentary about the relationship between Australia and the UK called Oz And Them. Many of those talking heads were so expatriate, that it felt strange them giving an ‘Australian’ viewpoint – step forward Germaine Greer, Clive James, and very punny (and unfunny) Kathy Lette. Also screened was The Adventures of Barry McKenzie; although a satire, there was probably once some truth in the grimy [and now virtually non-existent] London it portrayed.
Yet the city is constantly changing. It used to be almost be a joke that London needed Aussies as someone had to work behind the bars. But these days, following the EU expansion of May 2004, that role is more likely to be taken by someone from Eastern Europe. In fact, there’s been a 145% increase in National Insurance registrations from these new countries [up by 160 000], so now there are more Polish than Irish workers in the UK.
So what is a true picture of London is 2006?
Is it the booze culture that has seen alcohol-related deaths double in the past thirteen years?
Is it the air quality [or lack of it] that has given the English capital the dubious distinction of having the highest death rate in Europe for respiratory disease?
Is it the thought that the live video capture on screens on the buses, showing the images being captured on CCTV, may be a deterrent just in case you were thinking of trying something?
A city that couldn’t cope with the power drain during the heatwave, resulting in blackouts in central London?
A world marketplace as evidenced by the families in the supermarket car parks selling bootleg DVDs?
Well, all of them in a way. We can be happy that the numbers of burglaries have dropped, even if this may bear direst correlation to the rise in muggings, which provide easier pickings, now that we have our mobiles and mp3 players…
Yes, the city will still continue to draw folks from everywhere, whether as detritus going down a drain, moths to a candle, or just the attraction to the speed of it all. It is addictive, even if it can be a very lonely place to be. And it’s this constant change that makes the experience rewarding.
Then again, why would you expect a realistic view of a city on film? And what is a better reflection? The joyous working class singing and dancing Who Will Buy? in Carol Reed’s Oliver!? The underbelly shown in Stephen Poliakoff’s Hidden City? The stylised view presented by Patrick Keiller’s London? Or the disappearing world of Hackney Wick as seen in Finisterre? Personally, the only time I’ve seen a London I recognised on film was in Michael Winterbottom’s Wonderland.
Anyway, that’s enough time spent inside in front of a screen. Time to go out and see some more.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 9 August 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Living in a city this big can be an isolating experience. It’s hard to get to know people, and friends may live literally hours away. I’ve been stuck at home with flu contemplating this, and other conundrums of capital living.
This has also given me a lot of time to vegetate in front of the television. But even with hundreds of subscription TV channels, it can still be hard to find something to watch. For some reason I’ve found myself watching a film called Perfect Strangers on more than one occasion. Made a couple of years back, it tells the story of two advertising executives, who swap cities (New York and London), lives and jobs. So while Brit Anna Friel is swept up in the big apple, Rob Lowe takes over her cottage and job in London.
Naturally the London portrayed in the film bears no resemblance to the real thing. There’s no traffic, you can park your car anywhere, your home is simple and beautiful [but would cost a bomb in reality], and clubs are spacious and smoke-free. OK, so this is a romantic comedy, a romance where the pair discovers each other without actually meeting, but in their world they have to come up with a campaign to get American tourists back to London. Their brainstorm is to sweep away the whole notion of history and beefeaters to portray it as a vibrant city of lovers, all set to a jazz score. Of course, it’s a great success.
For no explicable reason, BBC Four had a mini Australian season last week. Featured was a documentary about the relationship between Australia and the UK called Oz And Them. Many of those talking heads were so expatriate, that it felt strange them giving an ‘Australian’ viewpoint – step forward Germaine Greer, Clive James, and very punny (and unfunny) Kathy Lette. Also screened was The Adventures of Barry McKenzie; although a satire, there was probably once some truth in the grimy [and now virtually non-existent] London it portrayed.
Yet the city is constantly changing. It used to be almost be a joke that London needed Aussies as someone had to work behind the bars. But these days, following the EU expansion of May 2004, that role is more likely to be taken by someone from Eastern Europe. In fact, there’s been a 145% increase in National Insurance registrations from these new countries [up by 160 000], so now there are more Polish than Irish workers in the UK.
So what is a true picture of London is 2006?
Is it the booze culture that has seen alcohol-related deaths double in the past thirteen years?
Is it the air quality [or lack of it] that has given the English capital the dubious distinction of having the highest death rate in Europe for respiratory disease?
Is it the thought that the live video capture on screens on the buses, showing the images being captured on CCTV, may be a deterrent just in case you were thinking of trying something?
A city that couldn’t cope with the power drain during the heatwave, resulting in blackouts in central London?
A world marketplace as evidenced by the families in the supermarket car parks selling bootleg DVDs?
Well, all of them in a way. We can be happy that the numbers of burglaries have dropped, even if this may bear direst correlation to the rise in muggings, which provide easier pickings, now that we have our mobiles and mp3 players…
Yes, the city will still continue to draw folks from everywhere, whether as detritus going down a drain, moths to a candle, or just the attraction to the speed of it all. It is addictive, even if it can be a very lonely place to be. And it’s this constant change that makes the experience rewarding.
Then again, why would you expect a realistic view of a city on film? And what is a better reflection? The joyous working class singing and dancing Who Will Buy? in Carol Reed’s Oliver!? The underbelly shown in Stephen Poliakoff’s Hidden City? The stylised view presented by Patrick Keiller’s London? Or the disappearing world of Hackney Wick as seen in Finisterre? Personally, the only time I’ve seen a London I recognised on film was in Michael Winterbottom’s Wonderland.
Anyway, that’s enough time spent inside in front of a screen. Time to go out and see some more.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 12 July 2006
A Matter Of Perspective
London Fields # 28
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 12 July 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Three Saturdays ago, I was sitting at home at a loose end. Doctor Who had finished, it was warm and still daylight and rather than sit at home, I walked up to a local pub, as Ed Tudor-Pole was due to play. I had no idea what to expect.
What I found was a weird mixture of cabaret and spleen. He’s angry, and loathes the current government. His hand-painted shirt is scrawled with slogans, including Socialism Is Shit and Destroy PC. He plays with a manic energy, wielding the most beaten-up guitar you’ll ever see. One of his steel toe-capped boots seems intent on going off on its own, taking his leg with it. He pays all the hits, from Who Killed Bambi to the Tenpole Tudor classics Wunderbar and Swords of A Thousand Men.
What I didn’t expect was to be invited to join his table and spend the next few hours chatting with him, hearing unprintable stories of the times of punk from someone who was at one time a Sex Pistol. His new material is political, but he’s not happy with me when I suggest that his Conservative stance makes him the anti-Billy Bragg. Oh, and if any promoter is reading this - he would love to come and tour Australia…
It’s moments like these that make the sometimes-alienating experience of living in a foreign land all worthwhile. It’s a seesaw battle; sometimes; events, circumstances and mood can all conspire to make the experience a good or bad one. But sometimes it’s all a question of attitude, but when things happen that you couldn’t imagine happening back home, and you gotta smile and say to yourself – “Yeah!”
It can get you down when you fork out hundreds just to have the water connected to your house, and then have a hosepipe ban imposed when a “drought” is declared. Not that it’s a countrywide water shortage – just the Thames Water region. Yup! That’s the company that has just posted a 31% pre-tax rise in profits to £346.5 million this year; the very same company that loses 894 million litres every day through leaky pipes. But if you use a hose, you’ll cop a walloping fine!
Many of the best live bands I’ve seen in my time here have never made it to Australia, and probably never will. It was so great to see Paul Buchanan of The Blue Nile touring for the first time in ten years (and to chat to him at the Barbican). The shows were something quite extraordinary, as the intimate music of a thousand bedrooms became an intimate concert for a thousand people. Sometimes, it felt almost too personal, like eavesdropping on a confessional – this truly was art without artifice. The highlight was A Walk Across The Rooftops with its blend of strings, drum machine bass and vulnerable yet powerful vocals. Their sound may be ‘80’s, but it doesn’t sound dated at all.
Ken Livingston, the Mayor of London is encouraging us to take up cycling as a major form of transport. But in London it simply isn’t safe - only last weekend, a local man was killed in a head on collision. That wouldn’t be so unusual, except that he was one of around seven hundred cyclists taking part in the fourteenth annual running of The Dunwich Dynamo, from inner London suburb Hackney to Dunwich beach on the Suffolk coast. I used to cycle too, until one day an idiot leaned out a passenger window and pushed me under a (thankfully stationary) bus. But it really ended for me when I lost two friends, killed on their bikes in separate daytime incidents, within the space of six weeks. That’s why my bike is slowly rusting in the back garden.
It doesn’t take much now for an act to get huge in the UK. Hard-Fi managed to sell out a five-night run at London’s largest pub venue, the 4 500 capacity Brixton Academy, with a single album. Editors managed to sell out a three-night stand, and they were playing 800 venues only eight months earlier. But being as popular as this doesn’t necessarily make for an entertaining evening. In fact, after my experiences at Death Cab For Cutie the other week, I think I’m really over seeing BIG shows.
Now I’m quite fond of them on record, but as a live experience, DCFC weren’t much fun. The audience was one of the most annoying I’ve ever experienced; it was like being transported back to a 3XY Under 18’s Concert. The music and playing was so safe and bland - it was the epitome of what used to be known as college radio, or an emo version of Coldplay. The nadir came when a second drum kit was set up for Ben Gibbard – rather than generating excitement, I was reminded of one of those clockwork drumming monkeys. The only saving grace was Chris Walla – whether he was on guitar, keyboards or bass, he really was the star of this act.
So I’m sticking to smaller gigs from now on. It’s great to see bands longs before they hit the radar, and even bigger bands are more enjoyable in a smaller space. It was wonderful seeing The Church playing a tiny basement club (The Borderline) a month ago. Even if sometimes they work too hard to show what rounded and talented musicians they all are, theirs is an easy grace that comes from their years of playing together. Steve Kilbey was having a few voice troubles, but nothing that distracted from gambit of emotions the set went through. From the fun about how they have no market in Manchester leading to a riffing on Joy Division’s She’s Lost Control, to a Providence dedicated to Grant McLennan, and a final moving segue of Invisible into Bye Bye Pride that stayed with me for days. And I’d never seen Steve sing without the comfort of a guitar before either!
As Lily Allen states in LDN, it’s all about perspective: “You might laugh, you might frown, Walkin' round London town…” Indeed! Sometimes it’s all a question of attitude…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 12 July 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Three Saturdays ago, I was sitting at home at a loose end. Doctor Who had finished, it was warm and still daylight and rather than sit at home, I walked up to a local pub, as Ed Tudor-Pole was due to play. I had no idea what to expect.
What I found was a weird mixture of cabaret and spleen. He’s angry, and loathes the current government. His hand-painted shirt is scrawled with slogans, including Socialism Is Shit and Destroy PC. He plays with a manic energy, wielding the most beaten-up guitar you’ll ever see. One of his steel toe-capped boots seems intent on going off on its own, taking his leg with it. He pays all the hits, from Who Killed Bambi to the Tenpole Tudor classics Wunderbar and Swords of A Thousand Men.
What I didn’t expect was to be invited to join his table and spend the next few hours chatting with him, hearing unprintable stories of the times of punk from someone who was at one time a Sex Pistol. His new material is political, but he’s not happy with me when I suggest that his Conservative stance makes him the anti-Billy Bragg. Oh, and if any promoter is reading this - he would love to come and tour Australia…
It’s moments like these that make the sometimes-alienating experience of living in a foreign land all worthwhile. It’s a seesaw battle; sometimes; events, circumstances and mood can all conspire to make the experience a good or bad one. But sometimes it’s all a question of attitude, but when things happen that you couldn’t imagine happening back home, and you gotta smile and say to yourself – “Yeah!”
It can get you down when you fork out hundreds just to have the water connected to your house, and then have a hosepipe ban imposed when a “drought” is declared. Not that it’s a countrywide water shortage – just the Thames Water region. Yup! That’s the company that has just posted a 31% pre-tax rise in profits to £346.5 million this year; the very same company that loses 894 million litres every day through leaky pipes. But if you use a hose, you’ll cop a walloping fine!
Many of the best live bands I’ve seen in my time here have never made it to Australia, and probably never will. It was so great to see Paul Buchanan of The Blue Nile touring for the first time in ten years (and to chat to him at the Barbican). The shows were something quite extraordinary, as the intimate music of a thousand bedrooms became an intimate concert for a thousand people. Sometimes, it felt almost too personal, like eavesdropping on a confessional – this truly was art without artifice. The highlight was A Walk Across The Rooftops with its blend of strings, drum machine bass and vulnerable yet powerful vocals. Their sound may be ‘80’s, but it doesn’t sound dated at all.
Ken Livingston, the Mayor of London is encouraging us to take up cycling as a major form of transport. But in London it simply isn’t safe - only last weekend, a local man was killed in a head on collision. That wouldn’t be so unusual, except that he was one of around seven hundred cyclists taking part in the fourteenth annual running of The Dunwich Dynamo, from inner London suburb Hackney to Dunwich beach on the Suffolk coast. I used to cycle too, until one day an idiot leaned out a passenger window and pushed me under a (thankfully stationary) bus. But it really ended for me when I lost two friends, killed on their bikes in separate daytime incidents, within the space of six weeks. That’s why my bike is slowly rusting in the back garden.
It doesn’t take much now for an act to get huge in the UK. Hard-Fi managed to sell out a five-night run at London’s largest pub venue, the 4 500 capacity Brixton Academy, with a single album. Editors managed to sell out a three-night stand, and they were playing 800 venues only eight months earlier. But being as popular as this doesn’t necessarily make for an entertaining evening. In fact, after my experiences at Death Cab For Cutie the other week, I think I’m really over seeing BIG shows.
Now I’m quite fond of them on record, but as a live experience, DCFC weren’t much fun. The audience was one of the most annoying I’ve ever experienced; it was like being transported back to a 3XY Under 18’s Concert. The music and playing was so safe and bland - it was the epitome of what used to be known as college radio, or an emo version of Coldplay. The nadir came when a second drum kit was set up for Ben Gibbard – rather than generating excitement, I was reminded of one of those clockwork drumming monkeys. The only saving grace was Chris Walla – whether he was on guitar, keyboards or bass, he really was the star of this act.
So I’m sticking to smaller gigs from now on. It’s great to see bands longs before they hit the radar, and even bigger bands are more enjoyable in a smaller space. It was wonderful seeing The Church playing a tiny basement club (The Borderline) a month ago. Even if sometimes they work too hard to show what rounded and talented musicians they all are, theirs is an easy grace that comes from their years of playing together. Steve Kilbey was having a few voice troubles, but nothing that distracted from gambit of emotions the set went through. From the fun about how they have no market in Manchester leading to a riffing on Joy Division’s She’s Lost Control, to a Providence dedicated to Grant McLennan, and a final moving segue of Invisible into Bye Bye Pride that stayed with me for days. And I’d never seen Steve sing without the comfort of a guitar before either!
As Lily Allen states in LDN, it’s all about perspective: “You might laugh, you might frown, Walkin' round London town…” Indeed! Sometimes it’s all a question of attitude…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 14 June 2006
A Tale Of Two Crosses
London Fields # 27
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 June 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In this part of the world, seasons don’t gradually merge into one another; rather they sudden bang on your door and announce their presence. Summer arrived without warning last week, putting an end to the litany of how it seemed it was never going to arrive. Of course, the moment the mercury crept past twenty-five, this was replaced by moaning about the heat…
To be fair, this is not entirely unjustified. This country is not built for warm weather, and it’s yet to adjust to climate change bringing ever-warmer days. London itself has only a handful of outdoor pools, and a shortage of green spaces combined with unbroken rows of terraced housing and heavy pollution leaves little fresh air to breathe. Many workplaces lack air conditioning, so toiling in temperatures of 30+ is not uncommon. In fact, while standards for the lowest permitted working temperatures have long been established, there is no such equivalent for hot conditions.
And even though winter went on forever this year, it didn’t rain much, so we’re in the middle of a drought. Now maybe that’s not a drought of Australian proportions, but there is a total hosepipe ban in the South East; meaning that you have to keep running back to the kitchen with a watering can to keep your plants alive.
Londoners are not often seen smiling; you don’t say hello to strangers cutting their hedges – all-in-all you keep to yourself. Yet the whole character of the place changes when the sun comes out. Last weekend I was watching a documentary on the 1989 Summer Of Love, which discussed how the introduction of “E” killed off the football firms’ rivalries as the fans danced with each other, their aggression forgotten.
Coincidentally, every second summer means something else as well – a major international football tournament. It’s a chance to forget about the bigger issues, like bird flu, or changes to retirement age, or nuclear power, even if only for a while. Following the Ashes series, the English have learnt that it is possible to win. The feeling is that, after forty years, this could be their time, but only if we all have faith. Even the humble Mars bar has been repackaged as Believe for the cause.
Seeing St George’s flags flying everywhere really is a thing to behold. This emblem has been used in some disturbing ways by far right groups in the immigration debates; seeing it this way acts as a unifier and reclaims it for all English, not just a scary minority. But you gotta laugh through when you see opposition leader David Cameron showing how green he is by cycling to work (sans helmet), proudly flying his St George's Cross from the back rack. Well, it is more than a little undercut by the fact that he’s followed by his ministerial vehicle, which transports his red boxes to and from the House of Commons…
With the twin British loves of music and football, it’s no surprise that the charts are overridden with football songs, but even with thirty-odd in the fray, no-one could have anticipated that eight out of this week’s Top 40 would be World Cup related. And this Monday came another contender – a rework of Sham 69’s 1978 anthem Hurry Up Harry, imaginatively reworked as Hurry Up England, featuring Jimmy Pursey, produced by Steven Street and featuring Graham Coxon on guitar.
Now this is all well and good until you learn about a group of old punks who got together in Romford Essex under the moniker Motty’s Sheepskin to record a new version of the same Sham 69 classic to tie in with the World Cup and to raise money for a local cancer charity. According to HurryUpEngland.co.uk, the project started way back in March, and when it was finished, they approached Jimmy Pursey for his blessing to release it, and got it. Which is why they were so surprised when a short time later, Virgin Radio announced the forthcoming Pursey re-recording. Saddest of all is that Motty’s version is closer to the style and spirit of the original (and it has better lyrics)!
But back to David Cameron - as the first vaguely electable party head the Tories have had in so long, he is a worry. But showed his true colours last week when he claimed that the music of Tim Westwood’s Saturday night BBC Radio 1’s hip-hop and rap show encouraged the carrying of guns and knives. You’ve got to feel a bit sorry for Tim Westwood – the victim of a drive-by shooting, the real-life inspiration of Ali G, the host of Pimp My Ride UK {“Let’s see what we can do with this Morris Minor”} and now the target of David Cameron.
The same David Cameron who says he’s fan of The “smash every tooth in your head” Smiths, Radiohead and Pulp. Umm, didn’t the cover of You Are The Quarry feature Morrissey dressed as a gangster with a submachine gun? What on earth does he make of Goldie Lookin’ Chain’s Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do? I can’t help but recall one of last year’s comedy treasures, The Thick Of It, where the minister was being pushed to watch his weekly Zeitgeist Tapes so that he could seem to have a clue of what was happening in the lives of Joe Bloggs. Cameron? Yeah - he’s down with it - Fo’ shizzle!
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 June 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In this part of the world, seasons don’t gradually merge into one another; rather they sudden bang on your door and announce their presence. Summer arrived without warning last week, putting an end to the litany of how it seemed it was never going to arrive. Of course, the moment the mercury crept past twenty-five, this was replaced by moaning about the heat…
To be fair, this is not entirely unjustified. This country is not built for warm weather, and it’s yet to adjust to climate change bringing ever-warmer days. London itself has only a handful of outdoor pools, and a shortage of green spaces combined with unbroken rows of terraced housing and heavy pollution leaves little fresh air to breathe. Many workplaces lack air conditioning, so toiling in temperatures of 30+ is not uncommon. In fact, while standards for the lowest permitted working temperatures have long been established, there is no such equivalent for hot conditions.
And even though winter went on forever this year, it didn’t rain much, so we’re in the middle of a drought. Now maybe that’s not a drought of Australian proportions, but there is a total hosepipe ban in the South East; meaning that you have to keep running back to the kitchen with a watering can to keep your plants alive.
Londoners are not often seen smiling; you don’t say hello to strangers cutting their hedges – all-in-all you keep to yourself. Yet the whole character of the place changes when the sun comes out. Last weekend I was watching a documentary on the 1989 Summer Of Love, which discussed how the introduction of “E” killed off the football firms’ rivalries as the fans danced with each other, their aggression forgotten.
Coincidentally, every second summer means something else as well – a major international football tournament. It’s a chance to forget about the bigger issues, like bird flu, or changes to retirement age, or nuclear power, even if only for a while. Following the Ashes series, the English have learnt that it is possible to win. The feeling is that, after forty years, this could be their time, but only if we all have faith. Even the humble Mars bar has been repackaged as Believe for the cause.
Seeing St George’s flags flying everywhere really is a thing to behold. This emblem has been used in some disturbing ways by far right groups in the immigration debates; seeing it this way acts as a unifier and reclaims it for all English, not just a scary minority. But you gotta laugh through when you see opposition leader David Cameron showing how green he is by cycling to work (sans helmet), proudly flying his St George's Cross from the back rack. Well, it is more than a little undercut by the fact that he’s followed by his ministerial vehicle, which transports his red boxes to and from the House of Commons…
With the twin British loves of music and football, it’s no surprise that the charts are overridden with football songs, but even with thirty-odd in the fray, no-one could have anticipated that eight out of this week’s Top 40 would be World Cup related. And this Monday came another contender – a rework of Sham 69’s 1978 anthem Hurry Up Harry, imaginatively reworked as Hurry Up England, featuring Jimmy Pursey, produced by Steven Street and featuring Graham Coxon on guitar.
Now this is all well and good until you learn about a group of old punks who got together in Romford Essex under the moniker Motty’s Sheepskin to record a new version of the same Sham 69 classic to tie in with the World Cup and to raise money for a local cancer charity. According to HurryUpEngland.co.uk, the project started way back in March, and when it was finished, they approached Jimmy Pursey for his blessing to release it, and got it. Which is why they were so surprised when a short time later, Virgin Radio announced the forthcoming Pursey re-recording. Saddest of all is that Motty’s version is closer to the style and spirit of the original (and it has better lyrics)!
But back to David Cameron - as the first vaguely electable party head the Tories have had in so long, he is a worry. But showed his true colours last week when he claimed that the music of Tim Westwood’s Saturday night BBC Radio 1’s hip-hop and rap show encouraged the carrying of guns and knives. You’ve got to feel a bit sorry for Tim Westwood – the victim of a drive-by shooting, the real-life inspiration of Ali G, the host of Pimp My Ride UK {“Let’s see what we can do with this Morris Minor”} and now the target of David Cameron.
The same David Cameron who says he’s fan of The “smash every tooth in your head” Smiths, Radiohead and Pulp. Umm, didn’t the cover of You Are The Quarry feature Morrissey dressed as a gangster with a submachine gun? What on earth does he make of Goldie Lookin’ Chain’s Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do? I can’t help but recall one of last year’s comedy treasures, The Thick Of It, where the minister was being pushed to watch his weekly Zeitgeist Tapes so that he could seem to have a clue of what was happening in the lives of Joe Bloggs. Cameron? Yeah - he’s down with it - Fo’ shizzle!
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 17 May 2006
Happy Slapping Hoodies
London Fields # 26
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 17 May 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Picture the scene: a quiet suburban street. Three ne’er-do-wells are up to something. Their backs are turned to you, but you know they have evil intents or will be planning acts of mischief. How? Why of course, they’re all wearing hoodies!
Another image – the same street. Don’t you feel better, now that there’s two police officers (and a Community Support Officer) walking towards you? Ridiculous? Yes, but it was with these two contrasting images that Labour campaigned in the elections the other week. It wasn’t the big election - that was held just under a year previously. This was the local elections for around half the councils in the UK.
But this was a disturbing trend. Up till now, you would have thought that the great threat in local politics was the growing prominence of the racist ‘little England’ views of the British National Party (BNP). I didn’t expect this kind of fearmongering being employed by the Labour Party, especially as it bordered on racism - this mode of dress is particularly favoured by black and Asian youth. I saw my local member leafleting the following day and called him to task on it. He said that he wasn’t pleased about it, but it was the decision of the London branch, and that he had no say in the matter. That filled me with confidence!
Two days later I went to see old lefty stalwart Billy Bragg play small homecoming gig in his old patch of Barking, Essex on the Hope Not Hate Tour. This was specifically designed to hit the areas where the BNP were gaining a following, and try to arrest their progress. It was a great show; Billy was in fine form. He was accompanied by Small Faces legend Ian McLagan on keyboards and they played for two hours. There were some old numbers, great stories (including his politicisation at the Anti Nazi League concert by The Clash), and of course a just a little bit of politics. Bragg felt that the swing towards the BNP was one of disillusionment. Even after nine years, this Labour government has failed to deliver what the people would expect from it, namely good health care, education, decent housing and fair pensions. The end of March saw the biggest strike in the UK since the General Strike of 1926 as 1.5 million council workers went on strike over proposed changes to their pension. Sadly the people of Barking and Dagenham (or at least the 38.3% who bothered to vote) voted 11 BNP candidates to that safe Labour seat. The good news is that they only won 27 seats all together across 176 councils, making 32 seats in all.
I suppose fear is a tool often used in electioneering, but I hadn’t realised that the fears of runaway youth ran so deep. Leaflets through my door promised that, if elected, ‘X’ would issue even more Anti-Social Behaviour Orders [ASBOs] locally. A year ago, the UK’s largest shopping centre Bluewater banned shoppers wearing the near ubiquitous hoodies, or baseball caps! Last month, 35 pubs in Warrington (near Manchester) banned the wearing of hoodies, baseball caps or tracksuits after 8pm on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. If you wear them, you won’t get in, let alone served. In Newport in Wales, ASBOs have been issued which prohibit two brothers from wearing hoodies at all! No wonder grime superstar Lady Sovereign released Save The Hoodie – it even got its own website.
Not to be outdone, John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York, wore one to get down with the kids at Bradford Grammar School last week. It’s as much a part of modern culture as the Chav. In a recent episode of Doctor Who set in a contemporary school, the Doctor, acting as a substitute teacher, showed how ‘with it’ he was by ranting, “Happy slapping hoodies - with ASBOs”.
These are indeed worrying times. New-fangled Tory leader David Cameron has claimed that The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead is his favourite album. As Billy Bragg noted in Barking – this is such a contentious choice, it must be genuine. One wonders if he once danced round the bedroom singing “When will you die?” from the anti-Thatcher tirade Margaret On The Guillotine with his eye on her job? After all, that was their working title for that album. With all this, is it any surprise that comic creation Alan B’Stard is back? Sadly only on stage, but Rik Mayall’s satiric Tory is returning – only now he’s a new Labour man, as it fits his ideas nicely. Stranger than fiction is talk of introducing lessons in “core British values” in the light of the 7/7 bombings, to try drum a patriotic message home across cultures through the school syllabus.
Is there a greater discontent brewing? I was shocked to see an airport-style metal scanner set up at the local train station the other week. A new anti-terrorism campaign perhaps? Nope – it was an anti-knife initiative. I tell ya, it’s gonna get real ugly, real soon…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 17 May 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Picture the scene: a quiet suburban street. Three ne’er-do-wells are up to something. Their backs are turned to you, but you know they have evil intents or will be planning acts of mischief. How? Why of course, they’re all wearing hoodies!
Another image – the same street. Don’t you feel better, now that there’s two police officers (and a Community Support Officer) walking towards you? Ridiculous? Yes, but it was with these two contrasting images that Labour campaigned in the elections the other week. It wasn’t the big election - that was held just under a year previously. This was the local elections for around half the councils in the UK.
But this was a disturbing trend. Up till now, you would have thought that the great threat in local politics was the growing prominence of the racist ‘little England’ views of the British National Party (BNP). I didn’t expect this kind of fearmongering being employed by the Labour Party, especially as it bordered on racism - this mode of dress is particularly favoured by black and Asian youth. I saw my local member leafleting the following day and called him to task on it. He said that he wasn’t pleased about it, but it was the decision of the London branch, and that he had no say in the matter. That filled me with confidence!
Two days later I went to see old lefty stalwart Billy Bragg play small homecoming gig in his old patch of Barking, Essex on the Hope Not Hate Tour. This was specifically designed to hit the areas where the BNP were gaining a following, and try to arrest their progress. It was a great show; Billy was in fine form. He was accompanied by Small Faces legend Ian McLagan on keyboards and they played for two hours. There were some old numbers, great stories (including his politicisation at the Anti Nazi League concert by The Clash), and of course a just a little bit of politics. Bragg felt that the swing towards the BNP was one of disillusionment. Even after nine years, this Labour government has failed to deliver what the people would expect from it, namely good health care, education, decent housing and fair pensions. The end of March saw the biggest strike in the UK since the General Strike of 1926 as 1.5 million council workers went on strike over proposed changes to their pension. Sadly the people of Barking and Dagenham (or at least the 38.3% who bothered to vote) voted 11 BNP candidates to that safe Labour seat. The good news is that they only won 27 seats all together across 176 councils, making 32 seats in all.
I suppose fear is a tool often used in electioneering, but I hadn’t realised that the fears of runaway youth ran so deep. Leaflets through my door promised that, if elected, ‘X’ would issue even more Anti-Social Behaviour Orders [ASBOs] locally. A year ago, the UK’s largest shopping centre Bluewater banned shoppers wearing the near ubiquitous hoodies, or baseball caps! Last month, 35 pubs in Warrington (near Manchester) banned the wearing of hoodies, baseball caps or tracksuits after 8pm on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. If you wear them, you won’t get in, let alone served. In Newport in Wales, ASBOs have been issued which prohibit two brothers from wearing hoodies at all! No wonder grime superstar Lady Sovereign released Save The Hoodie – it even got its own website.
Not to be outdone, John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York, wore one to get down with the kids at Bradford Grammar School last week. It’s as much a part of modern culture as the Chav. In a recent episode of Doctor Who set in a contemporary school, the Doctor, acting as a substitute teacher, showed how ‘with it’ he was by ranting, “Happy slapping hoodies - with ASBOs”.
These are indeed worrying times. New-fangled Tory leader David Cameron has claimed that The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead is his favourite album. As Billy Bragg noted in Barking – this is such a contentious choice, it must be genuine. One wonders if he once danced round the bedroom singing “When will you die?” from the anti-Thatcher tirade Margaret On The Guillotine with his eye on her job? After all, that was their working title for that album. With all this, is it any surprise that comic creation Alan B’Stard is back? Sadly only on stage, but Rik Mayall’s satiric Tory is returning – only now he’s a new Labour man, as it fits his ideas nicely. Stranger than fiction is talk of introducing lessons in “core British values” in the light of the 7/7 bombings, to try drum a patriotic message home across cultures through the school syllabus.
Is there a greater discontent brewing? I was shocked to see an airport-style metal scanner set up at the local train station the other week. A new anti-terrorism campaign perhaps? Nope – it was an anti-knife initiative. I tell ya, it’s gonna get real ugly, real soon…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 19 April 2006
Setting The Scene
London Fields # 25
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 19 April 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 19 April 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
How do you get to hear new music? Is it by listening to the radio, or reading online articles, forums and blogs? Perhaps through a friend’s recommendation, or else by following up an article elsewhere in this paper? Or maybe you just stumble across them by accident?
If I see one more time that a new British act is only successful because of NME hype, I think I’ll scream. Now I’ve made my feelings on the current incarnation of NME clear in the past, so I’ll try not to repeat myself too much here, but such labelling is disingenuous to say the least, as well as short-sighted, inaccurate and usually wrong.
One of the mainstays of British television [or cheap ways to fill a schedule] is the ‘list’ programme. Masquerading as a talking-head style documentary, these shows reminisce in a misty-eyed fashion over a past aspect of popular culture. This may be a period (e.g. I Love 1973), or an artificial construct (e.g. The 50 Greatest One Hit Wonders – this one actually is in production now – you can vote at Channel4.com). Anyway, one of these featured some music journos from the early 90’s boasting how they would create "scenes". The particular example cited was the Camden Lurch, a few bands thrown together and sold as a scene, even though none existed. So, they used to write about these in Melody Maker or NME, and make bets over whether they could get away with it. Funnily enough, one of the leading lights of this non-existent scene, Th’ Faith Healers, have recently got back together, and are playing London later this week, having warmed up with a mini US tour and SxSW appearance.
But NME is no longer cutting edge, or a style-maker; gone are they days where entire movements could be willed into being in their offices, and then sold worldwide. In the UK today, there is a raft of more powerful sources shaping the future music scene than the inkies of old. But the real reason for all this conjecture is this – what do you do if you come across a new band who are genuinely impressive? How can you heap praise upon them without being accused of creating hype? Or be guilty of building a bandwagon for others to jump upon?
The other week I went along to see what Mark Gardener (ex-singer of Ride) was up to nowadays. It looked like a good bill - the support act for the evening was Televise, a group formed by ex-Slowdive member Simon Scott. What I didn’t expect was for the first band of the evening to capture me so completely. Now there’s something a little special about the crowd that goes to Club AC30 events. They’re not snobbish, elitist or overly judgmental; they just wanna hear good music. Yet even so, the way they warmed to the opening act Model Morning was astounding.
Put simply, Model Morning is one of the most accomplished and exciting new acts I’ve seen in a long while. While watching them, I recalled the famous story of U2’s first London gig – playing to a mere 17 people at Islington’s Anchor and Hope. Now I’m not going to compare the two, but Model Morning play big, emotional music, and I think that they won’t be playing small gigs like this for too long.
So, how to describe them? Well, there’s a lot of ‘80’s sound in there, mixed in with early ‘90’s shoegaze. There are the echo-y guitar effects of A Flock Of Seagulls, the strong backbone of bass lines in the style of Simon Gallup of The Cure, and a little of the vocal style of Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis in the stylings of singer Peter Morley. Yet they are like none of these. I suppose they sound a little like how The Departure may have if that band had got it right.
Yet the band’s presence and assurance calls to mind The Strokes. Their arrangements seem surprisingly simple, but complexity and thought lie beneath the surface. The five members work so well together musically, complimenting each other and opening spaces for the songs to soar, or explode. The only thing holding them back at the moment is some awkward stagecraft. Afterwards I found out that this was only their second gig - it seems that they locked themselves away for a year rehearsing and honing the songs before playing live, so this will surely change.
So maybe it was just me who felt this way about them? Well, when the band came on stage, the dancefloor in front of the stage was virtually empty. People on it were standing as far back as they could, creating a great gulf between band and audience. As the set continued, people moved in closer, the applause after each song was more and more generous. By the end there were whoops and cheers, and undivided attention. Truly extraordinary.
If you search online, you won’t find much more about them than their MySpace site. But later this week they’ll be headlining Alan McGee’s Death Disco night, and Club AC30 will be releasing a six-track mini-album in the summer. They won’t be unknown for long. Remember you read about them here first.
© James McGalliard 2006
If I see one more time that a new British act is only successful because of NME hype, I think I’ll scream. Now I’ve made my feelings on the current incarnation of NME clear in the past, so I’ll try not to repeat myself too much here, but such labelling is disingenuous to say the least, as well as short-sighted, inaccurate and usually wrong.
One of the mainstays of British television [or cheap ways to fill a schedule] is the ‘list’ programme. Masquerading as a talking-head style documentary, these shows reminisce in a misty-eyed fashion over a past aspect of popular culture. This may be a period (e.g. I Love 1973), or an artificial construct (e.g. The 50 Greatest One Hit Wonders – this one actually is in production now – you can vote at Channel4.com). Anyway, one of these featured some music journos from the early 90’s boasting how they would create "scenes". The particular example cited was the Camden Lurch, a few bands thrown together and sold as a scene, even though none existed. So, they used to write about these in Melody Maker or NME, and make bets over whether they could get away with it. Funnily enough, one of the leading lights of this non-existent scene, Th’ Faith Healers, have recently got back together, and are playing London later this week, having warmed up with a mini US tour and SxSW appearance.
But NME is no longer cutting edge, or a style-maker; gone are they days where entire movements could be willed into being in their offices, and then sold worldwide. In the UK today, there is a raft of more powerful sources shaping the future music scene than the inkies of old. But the real reason for all this conjecture is this – what do you do if you come across a new band who are genuinely impressive? How can you heap praise upon them without being accused of creating hype? Or be guilty of building a bandwagon for others to jump upon?
The other week I went along to see what Mark Gardener (ex-singer of Ride) was up to nowadays. It looked like a good bill - the support act for the evening was Televise, a group formed by ex-Slowdive member Simon Scott. What I didn’t expect was for the first band of the evening to capture me so completely. Now there’s something a little special about the crowd that goes to Club AC30 events. They’re not snobbish, elitist or overly judgmental; they just wanna hear good music. Yet even so, the way they warmed to the opening act Model Morning was astounding.
Put simply, Model Morning is one of the most accomplished and exciting new acts I’ve seen in a long while. While watching them, I recalled the famous story of U2’s first London gig – playing to a mere 17 people at Islington’s Anchor and Hope. Now I’m not going to compare the two, but Model Morning play big, emotional music, and I think that they won’t be playing small gigs like this for too long.
So, how to describe them? Well, there’s a lot of ‘80’s sound in there, mixed in with early ‘90’s shoegaze. There are the echo-y guitar effects of A Flock Of Seagulls, the strong backbone of bass lines in the style of Simon Gallup of The Cure, and a little of the vocal style of Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis in the stylings of singer Peter Morley. Yet they are like none of these. I suppose they sound a little like how The Departure may have if that band had got it right.
Yet the band’s presence and assurance calls to mind The Strokes. Their arrangements seem surprisingly simple, but complexity and thought lie beneath the surface. The five members work so well together musically, complimenting each other and opening spaces for the songs to soar, or explode. The only thing holding them back at the moment is some awkward stagecraft. Afterwards I found out that this was only their second gig - it seems that they locked themselves away for a year rehearsing and honing the songs before playing live, so this will surely change.
So maybe it was just me who felt this way about them? Well, when the band came on stage, the dancefloor in front of the stage was virtually empty. People on it were standing as far back as they could, creating a great gulf between band and audience. As the set continued, people moved in closer, the applause after each song was more and more generous. By the end there were whoops and cheers, and undivided attention. Truly extraordinary.
If you search online, you won’t find much more about them than their MySpace site. But later this week they’ll be headlining Alan McGee’s Death Disco night, and Club AC30 will be releasing a six-track mini-album in the summer. They won’t be unknown for long. Remember you read about them here first.
© James McGalliard 2006
Wednesday, 22 March 2006
Mind Your Language
London Fields # 24
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 March 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
When you spend some time away from a place, you see it with different eyes on your return. There are so many similarities between Melbourne and London that it can be easy to get a little confused. Particularly when it’s a mere twenty-three hour blur between the two. Hitting the equinox, it may now be light at 5pm here, but that’s when the temperature plummets. With snow expected for Easter, it seems as though spring is still some way off.
No, you know you’re in London because it’s squirrels in the garden and not possums, the sky is low-hanging and slate grey, and housing comes in unbroken rows of terraces. If a stranger speaks to you it’s probably because they want something; it can all seem unfriendly and threatening. But there are compensations – British newspapers, digital broadcasting and a great live music scene.
It may seem strange, but asides from climate, the biggest barrier between the two cities is probably language, which can cause all manner of strife. It’s easy to get into a mess, as the promoters of Australian tourism recently discovered. For all the fuss in the Australian media about the "Where the bloody hell are you?" campaign, so far it hasn’t really made its presence known much at all. A friend saw a press ad [without the bloody], but that’s about it. I suppose anything’s an improvement over "I can see a rainbow" though.
But it’s all a matter of what you may consider to be offensive. London’s Evening Standard has devoted a fair bit of coverage to its ongoing feud with London Mayor Ken Livingstone. When a persistent reporter door-stepped Ken after a private function, Livingstone lost his composure and compared the reporter to a concentration camp guard. A year of legal wrangling, and non-apologies, led to a four-week suspension from his post [currently frozen pending judicial review]. So, it’s all about use of language that may be deemed offensive, right? Yet in the issue of the Standard that carried pages of coverage relating to the initial suspension, was a column by AN Wilson on Australia and the Republican movement, in which the author saw fit to use the term "Abo" as an appropriate description of indigenous Australians. Despite letters to the paper, complaining about the use of the term, and some coverage in TNT Magazine, no apology was forthcoming from the paper or author.
It is strange watching Melbourne through a British lens. If you only saw the news, you’d think that it was only the countries in the UK who’d won medals at the Games. Thank god for digital broadcasting. The UK has latched onto this faster than any other country in the world. Over ten million Freeview boxes have been sold, which allow reception of free-to-air digital broadcasting. Add this to those with satellite and cable services, and over two-thirds of UK homes have now gone digital. Just as well as analogue transmission is planned to end in 2012 [just in time for the London Olympic Games]. With ten million homes on broadband internet, and 2.7 million DAB radios sold, and you have the dawn of a new digital age. With the Games, it means that you have a choice of watching five different events through the one channel via interactive broadcasting. Sadly that’s five events in which the Brits are favoured, but you can’t have it all.
Although I love the BBC, and only begrudge a little the £126.50 annual TV licence fee, which pays for all the BBC’s TV, radio and web services, they don’t always get it right. Of course, via interactive TV, I could have watched the Opening Ceremony of the Games without commentary, but then I would have missed their embarrassing gaffs. My favourite was when the commentator had no idea who Ron Barassi was, so mistakenly proceeded to spend a few minutes discussing Herb Elliott, as Barassi walked on water. It was only when the baton was passed to Elliott that they realised their error and apologised. And the whole duck thing may have made a little sense if they’d bothered to explain the Leunig connection. When it came to the highlights repeated that evening, the whole section from the tram landing to the Queen’s arrival bit the dust, as did the performance by The Church. Weirdly The Cat Empire stayed in…
Speaking of language barriers, how did they match countries with their relevant giant fish on the Yarra? Whilst pike(r) is a quitter in Oz, pike(y) is an extremely offensive term for a particular class and type of thief. Did the organisers of the games think about this? – I wonder if there was some big joke in giving Northern Ireland a pike, and England a roach?
But amidst all the ‘Bloody’ fuss, you may have missed this gem. Lastminute.com had their wrist slapped by the Advertising Standing Authority for an e-mail campaign for children’s theatre tickets entitled Doing It For The Kids. What did they do that was so wrong? This was in the text of the ad: "Like Gary Glitter in a sweet shop, you too can have your pick of kiddy treats in London’s theatre world". Eh Gadd! [Paul Gadd, eh?] Now that’s the way to get your bloody message across!
© James McGalliard 2006
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 March 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
When you spend some time away from a place, you see it with different eyes on your return. There are so many similarities between Melbourne and London that it can be easy to get a little confused. Particularly when it’s a mere twenty-three hour blur between the two. Hitting the equinox, it may now be light at 5pm here, but that’s when the temperature plummets. With snow expected for Easter, it seems as though spring is still some way off.
No, you know you’re in London because it’s squirrels in the garden and not possums, the sky is low-hanging and slate grey, and housing comes in unbroken rows of terraces. If a stranger speaks to you it’s probably because they want something; it can all seem unfriendly and threatening. But there are compensations – British newspapers, digital broadcasting and a great live music scene.
It may seem strange, but asides from climate, the biggest barrier between the two cities is probably language, which can cause all manner of strife. It’s easy to get into a mess, as the promoters of Australian tourism recently discovered. For all the fuss in the Australian media about the "Where the bloody hell are you?" campaign, so far it hasn’t really made its presence known much at all. A friend saw a press ad [without the bloody], but that’s about it. I suppose anything’s an improvement over "I can see a rainbow" though.
But it’s all a matter of what you may consider to be offensive. London’s Evening Standard has devoted a fair bit of coverage to its ongoing feud with London Mayor Ken Livingstone. When a persistent reporter door-stepped Ken after a private function, Livingstone lost his composure and compared the reporter to a concentration camp guard. A year of legal wrangling, and non-apologies, led to a four-week suspension from his post [currently frozen pending judicial review]. So, it’s all about use of language that may be deemed offensive, right? Yet in the issue of the Standard that carried pages of coverage relating to the initial suspension, was a column by AN Wilson on Australia and the Republican movement, in which the author saw fit to use the term "Abo" as an appropriate description of indigenous Australians. Despite letters to the paper, complaining about the use of the term, and some coverage in TNT Magazine, no apology was forthcoming from the paper or author.
It is strange watching Melbourne through a British lens. If you only saw the news, you’d think that it was only the countries in the UK who’d won medals at the Games. Thank god for digital broadcasting. The UK has latched onto this faster than any other country in the world. Over ten million Freeview boxes have been sold, which allow reception of free-to-air digital broadcasting. Add this to those with satellite and cable services, and over two-thirds of UK homes have now gone digital. Just as well as analogue transmission is planned to end in 2012 [just in time for the London Olympic Games]. With ten million homes on broadband internet, and 2.7 million DAB radios sold, and you have the dawn of a new digital age. With the Games, it means that you have a choice of watching five different events through the one channel via interactive broadcasting. Sadly that’s five events in which the Brits are favoured, but you can’t have it all.
Although I love the BBC, and only begrudge a little the £126.50 annual TV licence fee, which pays for all the BBC’s TV, radio and web services, they don’t always get it right. Of course, via interactive TV, I could have watched the Opening Ceremony of the Games without commentary, but then I would have missed their embarrassing gaffs. My favourite was when the commentator had no idea who Ron Barassi was, so mistakenly proceeded to spend a few minutes discussing Herb Elliott, as Barassi walked on water. It was only when the baton was passed to Elliott that they realised their error and apologised. And the whole duck thing may have made a little sense if they’d bothered to explain the Leunig connection. When it came to the highlights repeated that evening, the whole section from the tram landing to the Queen’s arrival bit the dust, as did the performance by The Church. Weirdly The Cat Empire stayed in…
Speaking of language barriers, how did they match countries with their relevant giant fish on the Yarra? Whilst pike(r) is a quitter in Oz, pike(y) is an extremely offensive term for a particular class and type of thief. Did the organisers of the games think about this? – I wonder if there was some big joke in giving Northern Ireland a pike, and England a roach?
But amidst all the ‘Bloody’ fuss, you may have missed this gem. Lastminute.com had their wrist slapped by the Advertising Standing Authority for an e-mail campaign for children’s theatre tickets entitled Doing It For The Kids. What did they do that was so wrong? This was in the text of the ad: "Like Gary Glitter in a sweet shop, you too can have your pick of kiddy treats in London’s theatre world". Eh Gadd! [Paul Gadd, eh?] Now that’s the way to get your bloody message across!
© James McGalliard 2006
Wednesday, 22 February 2006
Who Will Buy?
London Fields # 23
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 February 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
February in the UK is a time of short days, grey skies and bitter cold. When there’s little incentive to go outside, what better time to reflect on what’s been worthwhile on television recently.
Whilst I’m enjoying US imports Bones, Monk and Battlestar Galactica, by far the best thing on at the moment is the BBC’s Life On Mars. Taking its title from the David Bowie song, it’s the tale of Manchester DI Sam Tyler (John Simm), who is knocked down by a car in 2006, and wakes up in 1973. With echoes of Vanilla Sky, it plays on a dilemma - did Sam travel back in time, or is everything happening some coma-induced fantasy? Made by Kudos [Spooks], the series looks great, has a killer soundtrack, and features witty, erudite scripts, and well-judged performances from a strong ensemble cast. Basically, it’s a hell of a lot of fun! The concept plays with the whole Euston Films [The Sweeney] genre, but with a sense of post-modern humour and irony, pitting Sam’s modern police methods against the hard-drinking back-to-basics approach of 70’s DCI Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister). A second season has just been announced; let’s hope they don’t blow it. Maybe it’s no surprise that one of the three writer/creators has penned a story for the new season of Doctor Who. On the basis of Life On Mars, it’s looking good for the new Tennant in the Tardis.
Amongst all the reality bile, there have been not one but two separate documentaries recently chronicling the death of the British sitcom. One featured writer Carla Lane [The Liver Birds, Bread, Butterflies] bemoaning the end of her era, citing "unfunny" things such as The Young Ones as the cause of her demise. I certainly laughed more when media satirist Chris Morris had this same writer making a desperate appeal for the elephant who had its trunk stuck up its arse in the groundbreaking brassEye, than I ever did at her affected slices of life.
Last year, Morris returned to television with Nathan Barley, a collaboration with columnist Charlie Brooker (TVGoHome), which attempted to capture the scenster culture of the Hoxton Twat, but maybe a few years too late. Starring Julian [Boosh] Barratt as Dan Ashcroft, the features writer of Shoreditch zeitgeist mag Sugarape, it also featured Nicholas Burns as the trendsetter/follower of the title, Richard Ayoade [Garth Marenghi] and Nina Sosanya [Teachers]. While Morris co-wrote and directed the series, he never appeared in front of the camera.
But he does in The IT Crowd, the new sitcom from Graham Linehan [Father Ted, Black Books] in which he appears as the head of a large corporation, seemingly part homage to C J from The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin. The humour here is quite broad, depicting the basement dwelling IT HelpDesk, and it is truly a traditional sitcom, shot on video, on brightly-lit sets and taped in front of a studio audience.
Kevin Cecil and Andy Riley, who wrote the third series of Black Books, have come up with a sci-fi comedy Hyperdrive, which depicts the crew of the HMS Camden Lock, as they try to sell Britain to the Universe in 2151. Once again a great ensemble cast - Nick Frost (Spaced), Miranda Hart, stand-up Dan Antopolski and Paterson Joseph, while Kevin Eldon (Nighty Night, Big Train) shines as the unhinged security officer - creates a good feel even if the show itself doesn’t reach great comic heights.
Taking interior dialogue to its ultimate expression, Peep Show follows the lives of flatmates Mark and Jeremy, played by Robert Webb and David Mitchell. Not only do we hear everything they think, the show is also shot from their point of view. In 2004, this original, inventive and cripplingly funny show won the prestigious Golden Rose of Montreux for best sitcom. Usually shows begin to falter after a while, but writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain have kept up the high standards throughout three series; sadly poor ratings may spell the end of production. There’s some comfort as David Mitchell and Robert Webb have just shot a TV pilot for a new sketch show for BBC Two, adapted from their Radio 4 series That Mitchell and Webb Sound.
Jesse Armstrong also co-created The Thick Of It with Armando Iannucci [brassEye, Alan Partridge], and the show beat both Extras and Help to win Best New TV Comedy of 2005 at the British Comedy Awards. Whereas Yes, Minister painted a cosy world of the same bureaucrats running the country, regardless of which party was in power, the spin of new Labour has begotten a comedy with teeth which paints a much bleaker vision. Often seeming more like a documentary, it shows policies made ‘on the hoof’ and spin doctors who create news and sack ministers as they feel appropriate. Chris Langham may have beaten Ricky Gervais and the Little Britain team to win BCA’s Best Television Comedy Actor for his performance as minister Hugh Abbot, but the shining jewel is a bravura performance by Peter Capaldi as Scottish enforcer Malcolm Tucker. Maggie Thatcher claimed Yes, Minister was her favourite programme; I bet The Thick Of It scares the pants of her!
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 February 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
February in the UK is a time of short days, grey skies and bitter cold. When there’s little incentive to go outside, what better time to reflect on what’s been worthwhile on television recently.
Whilst I’m enjoying US imports Bones, Monk and Battlestar Galactica, by far the best thing on at the moment is the BBC’s Life On Mars. Taking its title from the David Bowie song, it’s the tale of Manchester DI Sam Tyler (John Simm), who is knocked down by a car in 2006, and wakes up in 1973. With echoes of Vanilla Sky, it plays on a dilemma - did Sam travel back in time, or is everything happening some coma-induced fantasy? Made by Kudos [Spooks], the series looks great, has a killer soundtrack, and features witty, erudite scripts, and well-judged performances from a strong ensemble cast. Basically, it’s a hell of a lot of fun! The concept plays with the whole Euston Films [The Sweeney] genre, but with a sense of post-modern humour and irony, pitting Sam’s modern police methods against the hard-drinking back-to-basics approach of 70’s DCI Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister). A second season has just been announced; let’s hope they don’t blow it. Maybe it’s no surprise that one of the three writer/creators has penned a story for the new season of Doctor Who. On the basis of Life On Mars, it’s looking good for the new Tennant in the Tardis.
Amongst all the reality bile, there have been not one but two separate documentaries recently chronicling the death of the British sitcom. One featured writer Carla Lane [The Liver Birds, Bread, Butterflies] bemoaning the end of her era, citing "unfunny" things such as The Young Ones as the cause of her demise. I certainly laughed more when media satirist Chris Morris had this same writer making a desperate appeal for the elephant who had its trunk stuck up its arse in the groundbreaking brassEye, than I ever did at her affected slices of life.
Last year, Morris returned to television with Nathan Barley, a collaboration with columnist Charlie Brooker (TVGoHome), which attempted to capture the scenster culture of the Hoxton Twat, but maybe a few years too late. Starring Julian [Boosh] Barratt as Dan Ashcroft, the features writer of Shoreditch zeitgeist mag Sugarape, it also featured Nicholas Burns as the trendsetter/follower of the title, Richard Ayoade [Garth Marenghi] and Nina Sosanya [Teachers]. While Morris co-wrote and directed the series, he never appeared in front of the camera.
But he does in The IT Crowd, the new sitcom from Graham Linehan [Father Ted, Black Books] in which he appears as the head of a large corporation, seemingly part homage to C J from The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin. The humour here is quite broad, depicting the basement dwelling IT HelpDesk, and it is truly a traditional sitcom, shot on video, on brightly-lit sets and taped in front of a studio audience.
Kevin Cecil and Andy Riley, who wrote the third series of Black Books, have come up with a sci-fi comedy Hyperdrive, which depicts the crew of the HMS Camden Lock, as they try to sell Britain to the Universe in 2151. Once again a great ensemble cast - Nick Frost (Spaced), Miranda Hart, stand-up Dan Antopolski and Paterson Joseph, while Kevin Eldon (Nighty Night, Big Train) shines as the unhinged security officer - creates a good feel even if the show itself doesn’t reach great comic heights.
Taking interior dialogue to its ultimate expression, Peep Show follows the lives of flatmates Mark and Jeremy, played by Robert Webb and David Mitchell. Not only do we hear everything they think, the show is also shot from their point of view. In 2004, this original, inventive and cripplingly funny show won the prestigious Golden Rose of Montreux for best sitcom. Usually shows begin to falter after a while, but writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain have kept up the high standards throughout three series; sadly poor ratings may spell the end of production. There’s some comfort as David Mitchell and Robert Webb have just shot a TV pilot for a new sketch show for BBC Two, adapted from their Radio 4 series That Mitchell and Webb Sound.
Jesse Armstrong also co-created The Thick Of It with Armando Iannucci [brassEye, Alan Partridge], and the show beat both Extras and Help to win Best New TV Comedy of 2005 at the British Comedy Awards. Whereas Yes, Minister painted a cosy world of the same bureaucrats running the country, regardless of which party was in power, the spin of new Labour has begotten a comedy with teeth which paints a much bleaker vision. Often seeming more like a documentary, it shows policies made ‘on the hoof’ and spin doctors who create news and sack ministers as they feel appropriate. Chris Langham may have beaten Ricky Gervais and the Little Britain team to win BCA’s Best Television Comedy Actor for his performance as minister Hugh Abbot, but the shining jewel is a bravura performance by Peter Capaldi as Scottish enforcer Malcolm Tucker. Maggie Thatcher claimed Yes, Minister was her favourite programme; I bet The Thick Of It scares the pants of her!
© James McGalliard 2006
Sunday, 22 January 2006
Could Give a Monkeys
London Fields # 22
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 January 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
"If 2005 was the year of the wolf, what will 2006 be?" asked the Inpress Annual Writers’ Poll last month. From where I sit, it will definitely be the Year of the Monkey! Or, to be more precise, Arctic Monkeys…
When The Sun Goes Down has rocketed straight to the top of the UK singles chart, and their debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not is on its way to becoming the fastest ever selling indie album in UK recording history (the current holder is Oasis with Definitely Maybe). What makes this so important is that it runs contrary to everything that the music industry has been telling us for years. The repeated mantra of "Home Taping Is Killing Music" may have been rewritten to include downloading, but the basic message remains. Yet Arctic Monkeys took the opposite route. They achieved this fantastic position by making their demo material readily and freely available; it allowed them to build up a worldwide following before they had even been signed. And now they’re going to break sales records when the album itself was leaked weeks ago!
Various A&R people are reported to be frantically searching for the next Arctic Monkeys, and Sheffield in particular is under siege. Good luck to ‘em! But you have to feel a little sorry for bands like Bromhead’s Jacket (described by Sheffield’s Sandman as "a cross between The Jam and the bastard northern brother of Blur") and The Harrisons, both whom are going to overcome the stigma of being described as the next AM.
A recurrent theme of the past 18 months has been record companies continuing to re-release singles that failed to make it huge the first time around. Their persistence has finally paid off big time. After successes with this policy with The Killers and Kaiser Chiefs, this week’s UK album chart is topped by Hard-Fi (on the back of the third release of Cash Machine), and Editors (with the re-release of Munich) - The Back Room has finally made the Top 5 a full six months after was first released. Editors easily outshone Franz Ferdinand on their arena tour at the end of 2005. While Franz were still a good live proposition, they were missing the chemistry, that frission, the spark that made their 2004 shows so memorable.
Remarkable in the last year have been acts who may be great live, but failed to capture this in the studio. This is why I’m really excited about some second albums due to be released in 2006. Both The Duke Spirit with Cuts Across The Land and Archie Bronson Outfit with Fur fell into this hole; although superb live performers, their debut releases were somewhat flat and disappointing. I spent twenty minutes the other night bending the ear of Toby from TDS about how they MUST tour Australia, so that people can see how just how good they are. Time will tell if I made any impression.
Sometimes of course, the opposite is true. Which is why the man of the moment for 2005 was Paul Epworth, who dazzled with a Midas touch, both as producer and remixer (often under the moniker ‘Phones’). His special talent was by taking bands who could be less than impressive live (Bloc Party, Rakes) and producing great recordings and singles from them. If he was attached, you knew that they’d be something of merit about the project. He recently worked with Sheffield’s The Long Blondes. Although they are currently unsigned, but expect big things for them once they’ve recorded their debut. Bethnal Green’s Apartment find themselves in a similar position.
Other acts with second albums to look forward to in 2006 are Hope Of The States and The Veils. HotS have been in the studio for ages – the three songs I’ve heard so far are cause for excitement. With The Veils, singer/songwriter Finn Andrews is the only familiar face from The Runaway Found; expect a slower-paced, more melodic outing from a new five-piece line-up.
I wrote previously that 2005 was the year of The Oldie, with star turns from Gang of Four and The Psychedelic Furs, and a rise in the public fortunes of The Fall. 2006 sees the 20th anniversary of NME’s groundbreaking cassette compilation C86. It featured Age of Chance, The Bodines, Close Lobsters, Half Man Half Biscuit, McCarthy, The Pastels, Primal Scream, The Soup Dragons and Fuzzbox to name a few… This was really the birth of indie, and led to life after The Smiths, twee pop, shambling, and shoegaze. It’s rumoured that a series of concerts along the lines of ATP’s Don’t Look Back season is in the process of being arranged, so watch out for blasts from the past. The Wedding Present and Half Man Half Biscuit both had strong new releases in 2005, so expect them to lead the field. It could even help newer bands like Lions and Tigers get a leg up. Watch this space…
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 January 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
"If 2005 was the year of the wolf, what will 2006 be?" asked the Inpress Annual Writers’ Poll last month. From where I sit, it will definitely be the Year of the Monkey! Or, to be more precise, Arctic Monkeys…
When The Sun Goes Down has rocketed straight to the top of the UK singles chart, and their debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not is on its way to becoming the fastest ever selling indie album in UK recording history (the current holder is Oasis with Definitely Maybe). What makes this so important is that it runs contrary to everything that the music industry has been telling us for years. The repeated mantra of "Home Taping Is Killing Music" may have been rewritten to include downloading, but the basic message remains. Yet Arctic Monkeys took the opposite route. They achieved this fantastic position by making their demo material readily and freely available; it allowed them to build up a worldwide following before they had even been signed. And now they’re going to break sales records when the album itself was leaked weeks ago!
Various A&R people are reported to be frantically searching for the next Arctic Monkeys, and Sheffield in particular is under siege. Good luck to ‘em! But you have to feel a little sorry for bands like Bromhead’s Jacket (described by Sheffield’s Sandman as "a cross between The Jam and the bastard northern brother of Blur") and The Harrisons, both whom are going to overcome the stigma of being described as the next AM.
A recurrent theme of the past 18 months has been record companies continuing to re-release singles that failed to make it huge the first time around. Their persistence has finally paid off big time. After successes with this policy with The Killers and Kaiser Chiefs, this week’s UK album chart is topped by Hard-Fi (on the back of the third release of Cash Machine), and Editors (with the re-release of Munich) - The Back Room has finally made the Top 5 a full six months after was first released. Editors easily outshone Franz Ferdinand on their arena tour at the end of 2005. While Franz were still a good live proposition, they were missing the chemistry, that frission, the spark that made their 2004 shows so memorable.
Remarkable in the last year have been acts who may be great live, but failed to capture this in the studio. This is why I’m really excited about some second albums due to be released in 2006. Both The Duke Spirit with Cuts Across The Land and Archie Bronson Outfit with Fur fell into this hole; although superb live performers, their debut releases were somewhat flat and disappointing. I spent twenty minutes the other night bending the ear of Toby from TDS about how they MUST tour Australia, so that people can see how just how good they are. Time will tell if I made any impression.
Sometimes of course, the opposite is true. Which is why the man of the moment for 2005 was Paul Epworth, who dazzled with a Midas touch, both as producer and remixer (often under the moniker ‘Phones’). His special talent was by taking bands who could be less than impressive live (Bloc Party, Rakes) and producing great recordings and singles from them. If he was attached, you knew that they’d be something of merit about the project. He recently worked with Sheffield’s The Long Blondes. Although they are currently unsigned, but expect big things for them once they’ve recorded their debut. Bethnal Green’s Apartment find themselves in a similar position.
Other acts with second albums to look forward to in 2006 are Hope Of The States and The Veils. HotS have been in the studio for ages – the three songs I’ve heard so far are cause for excitement. With The Veils, singer/songwriter Finn Andrews is the only familiar face from The Runaway Found; expect a slower-paced, more melodic outing from a new five-piece line-up.
I wrote previously that 2005 was the year of The Oldie, with star turns from Gang of Four and The Psychedelic Furs, and a rise in the public fortunes of The Fall. 2006 sees the 20th anniversary of NME’s groundbreaking cassette compilation C86. It featured Age of Chance, The Bodines, Close Lobsters, Half Man Half Biscuit, McCarthy, The Pastels, Primal Scream, The Soup Dragons and Fuzzbox to name a few… This was really the birth of indie, and led to life after The Smiths, twee pop, shambling, and shoegaze. It’s rumoured that a series of concerts along the lines of ATP’s Don’t Look Back season is in the process of being arranged, so watch out for blasts from the past. The Wedding Present and Half Man Half Biscuit both had strong new releases in 2005, so expect them to lead the field. It could even help newer bands like Lions and Tigers get a leg up. Watch this space…
© James McGalliard 2006
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