London Fields # 86
First published Inpress (Issue # 1055), Melbourne on 29 December 2010, and in a shortened version in Drum Media (Issue # 1041), Sydney on 28 December 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
2010 was a year was marked by enforced inactivity, from environmental factors stopping travel to musicians actively not playing to raise money for charity. There was an election without a winner, and the country seemed to be the loser. A year that began with slacktivism ended with riots on the streets and the threat of water cannons to control them. A temporary immigration cap was ruled as unlawful, and the spectre of swine flu appeared, was forgotten about and then returned with the Yuletide snows. The island nature of Britain was emphasised again and again, as it was isolated by weather conditions and volcanic eruptions. In the weeks of silent skies brought on by the Icelandic volcano, it seemed British sea power was the only way to get off this island, or get back to it. The flotilla of boats crossing the channel were portrayed as embodying the Dunkirk spirit, but the panic as crammed ferries departed leaving some stranded in France seemed more like the last days of Saigon.
Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg seemed to offer a third way, and won many student votes with promises not to introduce tuition fees for tertiary students. When these (and other) election promises evaporated at the first important vote, there was justifiable anger leading to a series of demonstrations and near riots in cities across the country. Austerity was the catchphrase, and the pre-election word hope was quickly replaced by despair. The recession continued, and Royal Mail was offered up for privatisation. The only bright spot seemed to be BBC 6Music being spared the axe.
The National reached a greater audience with High Violet, but are still waiting for that R.E.M. style breakthrough. Although their London shows were blighted with poor sound, Archie Bronson Outfit’s Coconut was a remarkable curveball, in many ways achieving what Grinderman’s latest failed to do. Exit Calm’s self-titled debut captured the power of their live shows, while Stephen Jones revived BabyBird and on Ex Maniac created some of the pithiest pop in years. Peter Gabriel’s covers album may have been uninspiring, but his live orchestral show in the cavernous O2 was a one of the live performances of the year for me, along with shows from Julian Cope at Brighton’s Komedia, and Get Well Soon at the Borderline. Although larger venues thrived, some great smaller venues (such as The Luminaire) were lost.
On television, Misfits won the BAFTA for best drama, and returned with a strong second series, but Vexed showed writer Howard Overman could also get things badly wrong. Crime drama was everywhere, with The Silence continuing the trend of strip programming across consecutive weeknights. Luther allowed Idris Elba a British starring vehicle after The Wire, while Thorne showed Sky could produce drama and Sherlock was over too soon. The BBC also continued their run of excellent biopics, but their strongest contributions seemed to be documentaries - from Matt Frei’s excellent Berlin, through BBC Four‘s Maps season, to Michael Cockerell’s fascinating The Great Offices of State. But best of all was Wonders of the Solar System, where former D:Ream keyboard player Professor Brian Cox won huge audiences, by bring physics and astronomy together in a fascinating, involving, understandable yet uncondescending way.
While some of the old favourites, like The IT Crowd and Peep Show, showed definite signs of wear, it was a great year for new comedy on TV. Getting On returned for its first full series, while Rev. and Whites both became definite weekly highlights. Stand-up played a big role, but The Steven K Amos Show felt like a ‘70s timewarp and was barely watchable, while with Lee Nelson’s Well Good Show Simon Brodkin showed how well a live studio audience can be used. Harry Hill’s TV Burp and Charlie Brooker’s Wipe shows also were essential viewing, and I had a soft-spot for Mongrels whose puppets allowed them to get away with jokes living performers never could.
2010 saw the final death throes of New Labour, a government no one voted for seizing power, and the phrase ‘The Troubles in Ireland’ take on new meaning. It was the year that the World Cup bid wasn’t won, but where English fans expressed their love of the game by booing their own players. A year when so called legal highs were outlawed, a London bike hire scheme begin, and George & Lynne stopped appearing in The Sun. It was the year that The Bill ended its run, a year that wanted to be over so quickly that 2011 coins were already in circulation by December. As I write, the Arctic freeze gripping the country looks set to continue until at least the middle of January. The future seems to hold huge redundancies, further unrest, an unstable economy and a royal wedding. This last may give those still in employment an extra day‘s holiday. Happy New Year!
© James McGalliard 2010
Inpress: Published on page 53
Drum: Published on page 51
Showing posts with label Julian Cope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Julian Cope. Show all posts
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Tales Of A City
London Fields # 79
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 16 June 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
As much as it’s easy to sometimes loathe where you live, dreaming of other far away or remembered places, sometimes events conspire to deflate fantasies of an imagined life elsewhere by providing experiences that couldn’t be found elsewhere. At times like this you find yourself tearing up those mental lists of reasons to be or not to be here and just revel in your time. Recently I’ve looked enviously at Melbourne shows by The Chills (compensated by seeing The Clean here), the closure and rebirth of The Tote and commemorations of The Seaview Ballroom.
But when you’re standing in a 350 capacity club, and Peter Hook is playing his six string Shergold less than ten feet in front of you, and Mani is a few feet further away playing the lower baselines, you just know that this is something you’d be unlikely to experience in the confines of the Northcote Social Club. For this is Manchester supergroup Freebass playing only their second proper gig. Andy Rourke is sadly absent, and Hooky is the centre of a fine night‘s entertainment, one which may recall the past, but is also entirely of the present, the band not relying on any of its member’s huge back catalogues to get by. It’s a performance free of frills, and watching it I’m reminded of the difference to seeing another new buzz Manchester band this year - Hurts, who had everything right as far as looks and staging, but had forgotten the need for songs.
Two nights later comedian Stewart Lee is playing a free show in a woefully ill-equipped pub on the edges of Shoreditch. The circumstances see him abandon his plans to test new material, and instead he improvises around some themes from his 2009 Edinburgh show. That night, his thoughts on leaving London for the country or places further afield struck a certain resonance with me. Escaping the confines of the Hobby Horse for a calmer locale, a wander down Orsman Road ends at The Stag’s Head. But I’m soon drawn into the band area where I witness an extraordinary bass groove that loops hypnotically for the next fifteen minutes. This it turns out is the single launch of Chips For The Poor and I leave happily clutching their new 7” clear vinyl and a free bonus CD of the full version.
Between these two nights I’m in Brighton to witness Julian Cope turn in a virtuoso solo performance. After sitting on that strange cobbled beach (nothing stranger than the sound of waves rolling over pebbles), I head off to the Komedia. While he can tend to be a little erratic, somehow on this barmy Brighton evening it all came together brilliantly, nearly leading to me missing the last train back to London. He’s a fabulous raconteur, and extremely funny, interspersing songs with thoughts arising from research into his next book (Lives Of The Prophets), weird Japanese lyrical translations, and tales of his 50th birthday acid trip. He chooses a wonderful selection of songs and his voice and playing are pristine while simultaneous displaying a lived-in wear of love. His acerbic wit remains and his comments that The Teardrop Explodes were consistent at being not very good makes his non-appearance a few days later to collect an award from Mojo in their honour not unsurprising.
With shows this month by Gang Of Four, James, Brendan Perry, The Lotus Eaters and Marc Almond, you do sometimes wonder what decade this is. But other than a visit in May 1982 with a disintegrating The Teardrop Explodes, when has Julian Cope visited Australia? Where else but London would you see John Foxx reunited with guitarist Robin Simon to perform songs from the landmark Systems Of Romance album? Or experience the preternatural stillness of the streets during an England World Cup game? And while Daniel Kitson may seem to spend more time in Australia than he does here, never would his former landlord and enemy turn up at the end of an Australian performance of 66a Church Road as happened here last Sunday.
As I reflect on all this heading home on one of the last remaining bendy buses , I think that despite all the fears for a bleak future forecast by the new Liberal Con coalition, it’s worth enduring life here for the things that couldn’t happen anywhere else. But as Daniel Kitson’s landlord said, there are two sides to every story.
© James McGalliard 2010
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 16 June 2010
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
As much as it’s easy to sometimes loathe where you live, dreaming of other far away or remembered places, sometimes events conspire to deflate fantasies of an imagined life elsewhere by providing experiences that couldn’t be found elsewhere. At times like this you find yourself tearing up those mental lists of reasons to be or not to be here and just revel in your time. Recently I’ve looked enviously at Melbourne shows by The Chills (compensated by seeing The Clean here), the closure and rebirth of The Tote and commemorations of The Seaview Ballroom.
But when you’re standing in a 350 capacity club, and Peter Hook is playing his six string Shergold less than ten feet in front of you, and Mani is a few feet further away playing the lower baselines, you just know that this is something you’d be unlikely to experience in the confines of the Northcote Social Club. For this is Manchester supergroup Freebass playing only their second proper gig. Andy Rourke is sadly absent, and Hooky is the centre of a fine night‘s entertainment, one which may recall the past, but is also entirely of the present, the band not relying on any of its member’s huge back catalogues to get by. It’s a performance free of frills, and watching it I’m reminded of the difference to seeing another new buzz Manchester band this year - Hurts, who had everything right as far as looks and staging, but had forgotten the need for songs.
Two nights later comedian Stewart Lee is playing a free show in a woefully ill-equipped pub on the edges of Shoreditch. The circumstances see him abandon his plans to test new material, and instead he improvises around some themes from his 2009 Edinburgh show. That night, his thoughts on leaving London for the country or places further afield struck a certain resonance with me. Escaping the confines of the Hobby Horse for a calmer locale, a wander down Orsman Road ends at The Stag’s Head. But I’m soon drawn into the band area where I witness an extraordinary bass groove that loops hypnotically for the next fifteen minutes. This it turns out is the single launch of Chips For The Poor and I leave happily clutching their new 7” clear vinyl and a free bonus CD of the full version.
Between these two nights I’m in Brighton to witness Julian Cope turn in a virtuoso solo performance. After sitting on that strange cobbled beach (nothing stranger than the sound of waves rolling over pebbles), I head off to the Komedia. While he can tend to be a little erratic, somehow on this barmy Brighton evening it all came together brilliantly, nearly leading to me missing the last train back to London. He’s a fabulous raconteur, and extremely funny, interspersing songs with thoughts arising from research into his next book (Lives Of The Prophets), weird Japanese lyrical translations, and tales of his 50th birthday acid trip. He chooses a wonderful selection of songs and his voice and playing are pristine while simultaneous displaying a lived-in wear of love. His acerbic wit remains and his comments that The Teardrop Explodes were consistent at being not very good makes his non-appearance a few days later to collect an award from Mojo in their honour not unsurprising.
With shows this month by Gang Of Four, James, Brendan Perry, The Lotus Eaters and Marc Almond, you do sometimes wonder what decade this is. But other than a visit in May 1982 with a disintegrating The Teardrop Explodes, when has Julian Cope visited Australia? Where else but London would you see John Foxx reunited with guitarist Robin Simon to perform songs from the landmark Systems Of Romance album? Or experience the preternatural stillness of the streets during an England World Cup game? And while Daniel Kitson may seem to spend more time in Australia than he does here, never would his former landlord and enemy turn up at the end of an Australian performance of 66a Church Road as happened here last Sunday.
As I reflect on all this heading home on one of the last remaining bendy buses , I think that despite all the fears for a bleak future forecast by the new Liberal Con coalition, it’s worth enduring life here for the things that couldn’t happen anywhere else. But as Daniel Kitson’s landlord said, there are two sides to every story.
© James McGalliard 2010
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