London Fields # 43
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 5 September 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
There have been many changes to the live scene in London over the years, but one of the largest occurred in the past month. The Mean Fiddler Group sold virtually all its remaining venues, and even its name, to Mama, the company behind the Barfly group of venues. They had already sold The Forum (formerly The Town & Country Club) to them, and the latest package added The Borderline, Camden’s Jazz Café, the original Mean Fiddler in Harlesden and The Garage at Highbury. This seems good news, especially as both Harlesden and The Garage have been closed for some time, but staff I spoke to were uncertain of their futures. Reports say that Mama is also in talks to grab the Academy venues, which if successful would mean a virtual monopoly on larger venues in the capital.
Personally, I prefer the smaller places, especially the award winning The Luminaire in Kilburn. A full house is 275, and that includes bands, staff and guest list. All around the venue are signs telling you to shut up during performances, or leave. Wonderfully nearly everyone respects it. Seeing Mark Eitzel previewing the work-in-progress material for the next American Music Club LP with only an acoustic guitar was special indeed – even bar orders were whispered, and tills closed quietly.
Things were a little different as I ventured deep in the deepest heart of the East End to catch Evi Vine. The venue turned out to be a squatted community centre. It was like the days of illegal raves - folks were smoking inside; the bar was a bloke with a household fridge, and the toilets had been cleaned sometime last year. Yet it was alive and vibrant and filled with a desire to take music back to the people (except for the high door charge and beer prices). I left about 1am, but the bands played on for several hours afterwards.
I also spent a splendid afternoon at one of the summer Sunday barbecues held at The Windmill in Brixton. While not the best place to see bands, the afternoon was great value for money and tremendous fun. Witter were having fun (as were we), as they did a set entirely of BritPop covers - from Popscene to Common People, from Menswe@r to Suede. Later in the day came The Victorian English Gentlemens Club, the karaoke pop of Tim Ten Yen, and the day ended with Hot Puppies, whose vocalist is a modern Martha Davis, and whose joie de vivre was infectious.
Which was a marked contrast to the inaugural Field Day in Victoria Park in Hackney. Two understaffed bars could not cope with the needs of 10 000 punters, and after queuing over an hour for a beer, you then had a 30 minute wait for a loo. The large number of bands playing meant that each was restricted to a mere thirty minutes. Worst of all were the sound restrictions, which saw Archie Bronson Outfit shut down before even finishing their allotted time. The only acts to survive this environment were the Archies, an incendiary finish from Liars and Kid Harpoon, who has added a band to create Pogues-style mayhem. The day was a great idea, but a mess in reality.
The ramifications of the smoking ban are still being felt. At The Barfly in Camden, outside smokers became rowdy and aggressive as a fire escape door remained closed, meaning they had to walk 20 metres to get back in. Club nights at Koko (the former Camden Palace) have taken things to further extremes. In order to pop outside for a ciggie, smokers are first electronically fingerprinted. They then have 7 minutes to be back inside, supposedly to stop them grabbing a drink elsewhere while they’re out. With the drink prices at Koko, I’m not surprised that this time limit incentive is needed.
But if you think that’s an invasion of civil liberties, it’s lucky you weren’t at one of the V Festival in Staffordshire last month. Like something out of John Carpenter’s They Live, police employed a spy saucer which even at a height of 100 metres is invisible to the human eye. Originally designed for military use, this drone was equipped with high-resolution cameras and infrared capability, but for now not actually used over the main arena, for fears of injury should it crash into the crowd. And you thought zipline cameras were a nuisance…
Last month I wrote about the return of the ‘70’s with Palladium. Better by far are Pirate Casino – imagine Paul Weller covering Bob Seger‘s Nightmoves and you’ll get an idea. Here guitar solos are shameless – and the band is seamlessly professional. While not my scene, I can see them going far – look what pastiche did for Jet and The Darkness! But most interesting is that these ‘70’s-inflenced acts are bringing something truly wonderful to London’s Indie scene – some racial diversity. Usually the exclusive preserve of white middle class kids, both Palladium and Pirate Casino are attracting a black audience to the white enclave. And that can only be a good thing.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Here Comes The Flood
London Fields # 42
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 8 August 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
While no one thinks of England as a warm, bright, sunny country, this non-summer is getting beyond a joke. Already the days are getting shorter, and each week presents another cloud-filled long-range weather forecast. On the few days the sun has shone, the pollen count has been sky-high, which has been great news for manufacturers of antihistamines, and other allergy relief, but awful for the rest of us.
I’m sure the flooded areas of this country will fail to see any humour in a poorly timed release of a film where Steve Carrell has to build a second ark. People have died; families lost their homes. The Truck Festival was washed out, and will now take place in September. Lodestar was cancelled, and the site of the Reading Festival is under inches of water.
But is this lack of a summer making folks gruff and moody? I don’t know if it’s sun depravation, pollen allergies, irritation at the smoking ban, or just something in the water, but I keep witnessing scenes of unprovoked sheer bloody-minded behaviour. Like the mindlessly aggressive bloke at the recent Grinderman gig – although he could have just been drunk.
Grinderman have grown and progressed from their live debut at All Tomorrows Parties back in April, and you shouldn’t miss the chance to see them when they tour Australian in October. What they do is dark and primal, but it’s the palpable menace that makes it so good. Live they are the house band from the Titty Twister of From Dusk Till Dawn – a band for which cage dancers would seem right and just! While Get It On and No Pussy Blues are obvious standouts, the opening Grinderman instantly sets the mood, the maracas sounding like a rattlesnake preparing to strike.
For Go Tell The Women, Nick Cave struts along the front of the stage, holding his guitar like an assault rifle, picking out the three note riff as though he was an axe god. This is visceral, energetic and vital. This is about living dreams – during the encore Cave momentarily becomes the vocalist of Suicide. While Marty Casey’s bass is the glue that binds it all together, this is the sound of a unified purpose, but not one lacking in humour. Yep, they were so good that even an aggressive idiot who made me disappear to another part of the venue couldn’t detract from the evening.
Meanwhile, at a recent show at the Barfly, I came across the worst audiences I’ve experienced gig-going this year. Like the woman who pinched inside armpits as he drilled her way though, followed by an ‘excuse me’ over her shoulder. Or the coiffeured idiots talking really loudly during the quiet support act. Oh, hang on – those insensitive chatterers are the headliners – Palladium. There’s always a risk in seeing a band blind. Now Palladium have already had coverage in national papers, even before their first single is released. Even though the band is on a major label, this first single is a limited run of 500 on 7” vinyl only. This technique in generating hype was spearheaded by The Bravery, and makes your first release rare even before it’s released, and hence worthy of attention.
But that precedent should have been warning enough. A mate who regularly attends gigs with me bailed by their third song. Hoping for a glimmer of light, I resolutely stayed until the end. It’s a great idea to mine the path of the big rock of the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s – think Supertramp, think the theme from Cagney & Lacey. But while this could be so good, the band has forgotten to write any tunes. What you’re left with is rock - Alan Partridge style! Yet they already have a devoted following and maybe a great producer will even manage to find a seam of gold amongst the quartz (though they’re going to have to be bloody lucky).
However this month both the biggest disappointment and the greatest joy came while seeing The Blue Nile close the Manchester International Festival. At times this was heartbreaking, like watching a prize racehorse run lame. Maybe after some perfect shows previously, my expectations were too high? But the live mix was bass heavy, with the vocals and guitars mixed down, and the drums way too high in the mix. Which only served to emphasise some unnecessary business by the man behind the kit, which distracted and detracted from the whole. There’s an old joke that runs “the difference between a drummer and a drum machine is that you only have to punch the beats into a drum machine once!” Maybe they needed to punch a bit harder? Still, it was a joy to hear Stay, and the rendition of Family Life, with Paul Buchanan’s outstanding voice complimented by a simple piano accompaniment, was an emotional and musical highpoint, and easily my gig highlight of the year so far.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 8 August 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
While no one thinks of England as a warm, bright, sunny country, this non-summer is getting beyond a joke. Already the days are getting shorter, and each week presents another cloud-filled long-range weather forecast. On the few days the sun has shone, the pollen count has been sky-high, which has been great news for manufacturers of antihistamines, and other allergy relief, but awful for the rest of us.
I’m sure the flooded areas of this country will fail to see any humour in a poorly timed release of a film where Steve Carrell has to build a second ark. People have died; families lost their homes. The Truck Festival was washed out, and will now take place in September. Lodestar was cancelled, and the site of the Reading Festival is under inches of water.
But is this lack of a summer making folks gruff and moody? I don’t know if it’s sun depravation, pollen allergies, irritation at the smoking ban, or just something in the water, but I keep witnessing scenes of unprovoked sheer bloody-minded behaviour. Like the mindlessly aggressive bloke at the recent Grinderman gig – although he could have just been drunk.
Grinderman have grown and progressed from their live debut at All Tomorrows Parties back in April, and you shouldn’t miss the chance to see them when they tour Australian in October. What they do is dark and primal, but it’s the palpable menace that makes it so good. Live they are the house band from the Titty Twister of From Dusk Till Dawn – a band for which cage dancers would seem right and just! While Get It On and No Pussy Blues are obvious standouts, the opening Grinderman instantly sets the mood, the maracas sounding like a rattlesnake preparing to strike.
For Go Tell The Women, Nick Cave struts along the front of the stage, holding his guitar like an assault rifle, picking out the three note riff as though he was an axe god. This is visceral, energetic and vital. This is about living dreams – during the encore Cave momentarily becomes the vocalist of Suicide. While Marty Casey’s bass is the glue that binds it all together, this is the sound of a unified purpose, but not one lacking in humour. Yep, they were so good that even an aggressive idiot who made me disappear to another part of the venue couldn’t detract from the evening.
Meanwhile, at a recent show at the Barfly, I came across the worst audiences I’ve experienced gig-going this year. Like the woman who pinched inside armpits as he drilled her way though, followed by an ‘excuse me’ over her shoulder. Or the coiffeured idiots talking really loudly during the quiet support act. Oh, hang on – those insensitive chatterers are the headliners – Palladium. There’s always a risk in seeing a band blind. Now Palladium have already had coverage in national papers, even before their first single is released. Even though the band is on a major label, this first single is a limited run of 500 on 7” vinyl only. This technique in generating hype was spearheaded by The Bravery, and makes your first release rare even before it’s released, and hence worthy of attention.
But that precedent should have been warning enough. A mate who regularly attends gigs with me bailed by their third song. Hoping for a glimmer of light, I resolutely stayed until the end. It’s a great idea to mine the path of the big rock of the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s – think Supertramp, think the theme from Cagney & Lacey. But while this could be so good, the band has forgotten to write any tunes. What you’re left with is rock - Alan Partridge style! Yet they already have a devoted following and maybe a great producer will even manage to find a seam of gold amongst the quartz (though they’re going to have to be bloody lucky).
However this month both the biggest disappointment and the greatest joy came while seeing The Blue Nile close the Manchester International Festival. At times this was heartbreaking, like watching a prize racehorse run lame. Maybe after some perfect shows previously, my expectations were too high? But the live mix was bass heavy, with the vocals and guitars mixed down, and the drums way too high in the mix. Which only served to emphasise some unnecessary business by the man behind the kit, which distracted and detracted from the whole. There’s an old joke that runs “the difference between a drummer and a drum machine is that you only have to punch the beats into a drum machine once!” Maybe they needed to punch a bit harder? Still, it was a joy to hear Stay, and the rendition of Family Life, with Paul Buchanan’s outstanding voice complimented by a simple piano accompaniment, was an emotional and musical highpoint, and easily my gig highlight of the year so far.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
A Craic In The Clouds
London Fields # 41
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 11 July 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Ostensibly my reason for travelling to Dublin was to catch one of the "rehearsals" that R.E.M. held over five nights at the Olympia Theatre there. "This Is Not A Show" stated the projection behind them, and in many ways it wasn’t – the idea was to road test new songs for their partly recorded next LP. But it did provide an opportunity to catch one of the biggest bands in the world in a comparatively intimate venue, and the trip overall provided me with an unexpected reflection of life in London as well.
The last time I was in Dublin was in October 2001, in the aftermath of September 11. This trip coincided with the attacks on London’s West End and Glasgow Airport, which insured lots of shenanigans getting through security procedures, as it had nearly six years earlier. But the city has changed so much over the period. Like London, the influx of workers from Eastern Europe has had a visible aspect, both in the rise of specialist shops, and in those employed as waiting and cleaning staff. It seems as if the divide between rich and poor has widened too; there are far more beggars on the streets. Near Parnell Square I see a bottle shop where the worker is behind bulletproof glass with a small bank teller like window to distribute the booze. Making the purchases are a couple of scangers, the Irish version of the chav.
I catch up with an old friend, someone I met on my first trip here in 1990. He’s a musician who has toured the world in an award-winning band. He tells me that although rental prices in the city have increased astronomically, the average income has not followed suit. Rising rents means that many of the beautiful old bookshops near Trinity College have had to close, or move to cheaper premises elsewhere.
The one thing Dublin has retained, and possibly its greatest tourist attraction, are its many bars. It’s such a contrast to London, where those remaining pubs that haven’t been closed and converted into flats are often nearly identical, as part of large chains. There a very few places in central London where you’d be tempted to have more than a swift one on your way somewhere else. In Dublin, it never more than a stone’s throw to the next pub, but they’re actually places you’d want to stop and spent time in. The Stag’s Head is probably my favourite, even seamlessly absorbing the after show crowds from the nearby Olympia Theatre.
The biggest change to Dublin’s pubs has been the rise of the "beer garden" following the introduction of the smoking ban a few years back. Often these are little more than a small covered area for smokers to huddle into, and while the pubs seem quieter, but they still have retained the atmosphere without the smokehaze. But land values have risen so much that there is talk that even the famous Guinness Brewery at St James’s Gate may be up for development as luxury flats, such is the value of the land in the current climate.
My old friend also worries about the lack of variety in the Dublin music scene. While their rock industry bible HotPress celebrates its 30th Anniversary, and the Oxegen Festival is national news, he tells me that while the scene is buzzing, there a few acts not aping what they see as the current "NME taste". In fact, the only newish act he could recommend had just called it a day. Which is all the sadder as HotPress has retained some of the more in-depth journalistic pieces that the present-NME abandoned in favour of a Smash Hits-style presentation.
It was on my last night that I saw R.E.M. and they played an uberfan’s set – asides from the new material, it was all early IRS-period material with Harbourcoat and the entire Chronic Town EP. Some things are the same everywhere, like the couple who elbowed their way beside me just before the band began, and then spent the first two (new) songs nattering about how exciting it was to be there, her pausing only to yell "We love you Michael" repeatedly. But two things told me I wasn’t in London at the gig. Firstly the amazingly well-run bar, and secondly no one would choose London audiences as a testing ground for new material. While London is seen as old and set in its ways, Dublin is still perceived as somewhere willing to embrace the new.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 11 July 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Ostensibly my reason for travelling to Dublin was to catch one of the "rehearsals" that R.E.M. held over five nights at the Olympia Theatre there. "This Is Not A Show" stated the projection behind them, and in many ways it wasn’t – the idea was to road test new songs for their partly recorded next LP. But it did provide an opportunity to catch one of the biggest bands in the world in a comparatively intimate venue, and the trip overall provided me with an unexpected reflection of life in London as well.
The last time I was in Dublin was in October 2001, in the aftermath of September 11. This trip coincided with the attacks on London’s West End and Glasgow Airport, which insured lots of shenanigans getting through security procedures, as it had nearly six years earlier. But the city has changed so much over the period. Like London, the influx of workers from Eastern Europe has had a visible aspect, both in the rise of specialist shops, and in those employed as waiting and cleaning staff. It seems as if the divide between rich and poor has widened too; there are far more beggars on the streets. Near Parnell Square I see a bottle shop where the worker is behind bulletproof glass with a small bank teller like window to distribute the booze. Making the purchases are a couple of scangers, the Irish version of the chav.
I catch up with an old friend, someone I met on my first trip here in 1990. He’s a musician who has toured the world in an award-winning band. He tells me that although rental prices in the city have increased astronomically, the average income has not followed suit. Rising rents means that many of the beautiful old bookshops near Trinity College have had to close, or move to cheaper premises elsewhere.
The one thing Dublin has retained, and possibly its greatest tourist attraction, are its many bars. It’s such a contrast to London, where those remaining pubs that haven’t been closed and converted into flats are often nearly identical, as part of large chains. There a very few places in central London where you’d be tempted to have more than a swift one on your way somewhere else. In Dublin, it never more than a stone’s throw to the next pub, but they’re actually places you’d want to stop and spent time in. The Stag’s Head is probably my favourite, even seamlessly absorbing the after show crowds from the nearby Olympia Theatre.
The biggest change to Dublin’s pubs has been the rise of the "beer garden" following the introduction of the smoking ban a few years back. Often these are little more than a small covered area for smokers to huddle into, and while the pubs seem quieter, but they still have retained the atmosphere without the smokehaze. But land values have risen so much that there is talk that even the famous Guinness Brewery at St James’s Gate may be up for development as luxury flats, such is the value of the land in the current climate.
My old friend also worries about the lack of variety in the Dublin music scene. While their rock industry bible HotPress celebrates its 30th Anniversary, and the Oxegen Festival is national news, he tells me that while the scene is buzzing, there a few acts not aping what they see as the current "NME taste". In fact, the only newish act he could recommend had just called it a day. Which is all the sadder as HotPress has retained some of the more in-depth journalistic pieces that the present-NME abandoned in favour of a Smash Hits-style presentation.
It was on my last night that I saw R.E.M. and they played an uberfan’s set – asides from the new material, it was all early IRS-period material with Harbourcoat and the entire Chronic Town EP. Some things are the same everywhere, like the couple who elbowed their way beside me just before the band began, and then spent the first two (new) songs nattering about how exciting it was to be there, her pausing only to yell "We love you Michael" repeatedly. But two things told me I wasn’t in London at the gig. Firstly the amazingly well-run bar, and secondly no one would choose London audiences as a testing ground for new material. While London is seen as old and set in its ways, Dublin is still perceived as somewhere willing to embrace the new.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 13 June 2007
Sorted
London Fields # 40
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 13 June 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
I remember my first Glastonbury Festival. It wasn’t planned - I only bought a ticket a few days before. We heard the world premiere of the new Stone Roses single One Love on Radio 1 while driving down from London, and then hit the four hour bumper-to-bumper crawl to get onto site. As night fell I was separated from my friends, and then the rain began to fall. I spent that evening sheltering inside my sleeping bag, cocooned within two black bin liners. When I caught up with my mates the next day, it turned out the ‘tent’ that they had for me had no floor and a ‘Cowboys and Indians’ motif on the side. Luckily it didn’t rain again. Those were amongst the most enjoyable days of my life.
Of course, Glasto now sells out in a matter of hours, and it’s a lot bigger than Pulp’s twenty thousand people standing in a field - this year 175 000 people are expected for that weekend at end of this month. Watching the TV coverage of the 2005 event, it seems our former camping pitch has become part of the crowd area - video screens allow a much bigger audience to feel they’re part of the event. You’ve got to admire the Eavis family for keeping it all together, but the real joy of Glasto was the community spirit. And when things get so large, it’s hard to keep that intact.But there are still smaller gems to be found.
The end of April found me at the Dirty Three curated All Tomorrow’s Parties event at Butlins holiday camp in Minehead. It was a surreal experience, holiday ‘chalets’ from a Carry On film, a real mix of people, a proliferation of beards, and best of all, no aggro. The audience ATP attracts is there for the music, not to be a prick.
Then earlier this month I was in Barcelona for Primavera Sound, which was easily the most trouble-free and organised event of this kind I’ve ever attended. Sure there were minor quibbles – the queues to buy vouchers to exchange for drinks, the late nights [bands coming on at 5 in the morning catches up with you by the third day], and the sound spill onto the Rockdelux stage [at one point so loud that it stopped Warren Ellis midsentence]. But although there were no outstanding highlights, it never felt overcrowded (except during The Smashing Pumpkins), and (like ATP) it was great few days with nice people and good music.
This month marks 18 years since I left Melbourne, and three years of writing this column. And following some recent discussions with readers, artists and promoters, I think it’s important that I make this point: I’m a punter! Nearly everything you read about here has been paid for; I’m a long way from the ligger’s list {which is a shame, as all the press bods at Primavera enjoyed free local brew in their own enclosure for all three days}. So I write about what interests me, and what I spend my money on – so it is from a limited perspective.
But perhaps you too get annoyed at exorbitant booking fees for gig tickets, or idiots who talk all the way through gigs, or folks who block your view by taking crappy pics on their phone every 20 seconds. That’s why big gigs are out - no V Festival or Reading, and although I enjoyed it last year, I’ll even be giving the smaller Get Loaded In The Park a miss. However, in July I’ll be heading to a farm in Oxfordshire for the relatively small Truck Festival (which has sold out before the line-up has been announced). And I’ll be descending with 5000 others on Hackney’s Victoria Park one Saturday in August for the inaugural Field Day, which aims to create a village fete atmosphere in the heart of the East End (and it has a great roster of bands over four stages).
Maybe if things keep getting too big, people will revolt and make their own way. Whispers are making even the mainstream press of free parties in the English countryside. Forget nu-rave – could 2007 turn out to be the third summer of love?
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 13 June 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
I remember my first Glastonbury Festival. It wasn’t planned - I only bought a ticket a few days before. We heard the world premiere of the new Stone Roses single One Love on Radio 1 while driving down from London, and then hit the four hour bumper-to-bumper crawl to get onto site. As night fell I was separated from my friends, and then the rain began to fall. I spent that evening sheltering inside my sleeping bag, cocooned within two black bin liners. When I caught up with my mates the next day, it turned out the ‘tent’ that they had for me had no floor and a ‘Cowboys and Indians’ motif on the side. Luckily it didn’t rain again. Those were amongst the most enjoyable days of my life.
Of course, Glasto now sells out in a matter of hours, and it’s a lot bigger than Pulp’s twenty thousand people standing in a field - this year 175 000 people are expected for that weekend at end of this month. Watching the TV coverage of the 2005 event, it seems our former camping pitch has become part of the crowd area - video screens allow a much bigger audience to feel they’re part of the event. You’ve got to admire the Eavis family for keeping it all together, but the real joy of Glasto was the community spirit. And when things get so large, it’s hard to keep that intact.But there are still smaller gems to be found.
The end of April found me at the Dirty Three curated All Tomorrow’s Parties event at Butlins holiday camp in Minehead. It was a surreal experience, holiday ‘chalets’ from a Carry On film, a real mix of people, a proliferation of beards, and best of all, no aggro. The audience ATP attracts is there for the music, not to be a prick.
Then earlier this month I was in Barcelona for Primavera Sound, which was easily the most trouble-free and organised event of this kind I’ve ever attended. Sure there were minor quibbles – the queues to buy vouchers to exchange for drinks, the late nights [bands coming on at 5 in the morning catches up with you by the third day], and the sound spill onto the Rockdelux stage [at one point so loud that it stopped Warren Ellis midsentence]. But although there were no outstanding highlights, it never felt overcrowded (except during The Smashing Pumpkins), and (like ATP) it was great few days with nice people and good music.
This month marks 18 years since I left Melbourne, and three years of writing this column. And following some recent discussions with readers, artists and promoters, I think it’s important that I make this point: I’m a punter! Nearly everything you read about here has been paid for; I’m a long way from the ligger’s list {which is a shame, as all the press bods at Primavera enjoyed free local brew in their own enclosure for all three days}. So I write about what interests me, and what I spend my money on – so it is from a limited perspective.
But perhaps you too get annoyed at exorbitant booking fees for gig tickets, or idiots who talk all the way through gigs, or folks who block your view by taking crappy pics on their phone every 20 seconds. That’s why big gigs are out - no V Festival or Reading, and although I enjoyed it last year, I’ll even be giving the smaller Get Loaded In The Park a miss. However, in July I’ll be heading to a farm in Oxfordshire for the relatively small Truck Festival (which has sold out before the line-up has been announced). And I’ll be descending with 5000 others on Hackney’s Victoria Park one Saturday in August for the inaugural Field Day, which aims to create a village fete atmosphere in the heart of the East End (and it has a great roster of bands over four stages).
Maybe if things keep getting too big, people will revolt and make their own way. Whispers are making even the mainstream press of free parties in the English countryside. Forget nu-rave – could 2007 turn out to be the third summer of love?
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 16 May 2007
Touting For Trade
London Fields # 39
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 16 May 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
It seems to me that there are four big issues facing the live scene in the UK: its popularity, the threat of closure to some mainstays of the scene, ticket touting (scalping) and the imminent introduction of the smoking ban.
It remains to be seen how the complete smoking ban, which is being introduced in England on 1 July 2007, will impact on the live music scene. Virtually all larger venues have a ‘No Passouts’ policy, which means that smokers are likely to leave it until the last minute before entering the venue. This is bad news for support acts, and will also hit the takings of the venue's bars. While gigging will be more healthy and pleasant for most of us, further repercussions may remain unknown for some time yet.
While you’d think the current resurgence of the live scene would ensure the future of music venues, last month the Hammersmith Palais closed to live music, and it will shortly be demolished. The Spitz is in peril, and a proposed redevelopment of the Tottenham Court Road area threatens the Astoria/Mean Fiddler complex.
For years, the image of the ticket tout has been the same. A parka-wearing pack animal that hangs around in all weather outside tube stations or the venue itself, reciting the age-old mantra "Got any spares? I’ll buy or sell. You need a ticket? You got one to sell?" A mate likes to toy with them, but they’re hard nuts, and more than once I’ve been threatened when selling a spare ticket at cost to another punter, as it’s affecting ‘business’.
But eBay has made it easy for anyone to tout, and is attracting people with little or no love of music, with the lure of money for nothing. So while more folks are going to gigs than at any time I can recall, part of the reason it’s become harder than ever before to get tickets through normal outlets is that up to a third of gig tickets are resold. So concerts will sell out in minutes instead of hours, but almost instantaneously dozens of pairs of tickets will appear on eBay.
Now some measures have been taken, such as the pre-registration required for Glastonbury or the recent Arctic Monkeys tour, and Arcade Fire kept some tickets for door sales only on each night of their last tour. Up until now, the government has only taken action when internet auction sites allow reselling of free tickets, such as Live 8, or the upcoming BBC’s Radio One’s Big Weekend.
It’s the disparity between the rock industry and the rest of the entertainment world that causes the real problems. Scalping is banned at football matches, and touts face fines up to £5000 if caught selling outside a football stadium. Theatres make provision for ticket resale, by offering a returns service [and make additional money for themselves in the process]. Some theatres check eBay on a daily basis and try to locate and cancel tickets if they’re being sold on to third parties.
But when it comes to the gig punter, all such considerations vanish. Recently I bought tickets for a sold out event in Birmingham, and when it became apparent that I’d be unable to go, there were four options of getting rid of them. Two of these I could rule out immediately - I didn’t know anyone who wanted to go, and I wasn’t willing to scalp the tickets on eBay. So, I posted on the band’s forum, and also on Scarlet Mist, a website set up to allow fans to sell tickets on for face value, without incurring any fees. While I disposed of one of the pair via Scarlet Mist, I ended up nearly £40 out of pocket by doing things the ‘right’ way.
Earlier this month, the government convened The Culture, Media and Sport Select Committee, whose eleven-members will look into the whole issue of event ticketing. It’ll be interesting to see if this makes any recommendations that may change the current situation. I have a sneaky suspicion it will. After all, someone’s bound to realise that these rip-off merchants aren’t paying tax on their earnings.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 16 May 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
It seems to me that there are four big issues facing the live scene in the UK: its popularity, the threat of closure to some mainstays of the scene, ticket touting (scalping) and the imminent introduction of the smoking ban.
It remains to be seen how the complete smoking ban, which is being introduced in England on 1 July 2007, will impact on the live music scene. Virtually all larger venues have a ‘No Passouts’ policy, which means that smokers are likely to leave it until the last minute before entering the venue. This is bad news for support acts, and will also hit the takings of the venue's bars. While gigging will be more healthy and pleasant for most of us, further repercussions may remain unknown for some time yet.
While you’d think the current resurgence of the live scene would ensure the future of music venues, last month the Hammersmith Palais closed to live music, and it will shortly be demolished. The Spitz is in peril, and a proposed redevelopment of the Tottenham Court Road area threatens the Astoria/Mean Fiddler complex.
For years, the image of the ticket tout has been the same. A parka-wearing pack animal that hangs around in all weather outside tube stations or the venue itself, reciting the age-old mantra "Got any spares? I’ll buy or sell. You need a ticket? You got one to sell?" A mate likes to toy with them, but they’re hard nuts, and more than once I’ve been threatened when selling a spare ticket at cost to another punter, as it’s affecting ‘business’.
But eBay has made it easy for anyone to tout, and is attracting people with little or no love of music, with the lure of money for nothing. So while more folks are going to gigs than at any time I can recall, part of the reason it’s become harder than ever before to get tickets through normal outlets is that up to a third of gig tickets are resold. So concerts will sell out in minutes instead of hours, but almost instantaneously dozens of pairs of tickets will appear on eBay.
Now some measures have been taken, such as the pre-registration required for Glastonbury or the recent Arctic Monkeys tour, and Arcade Fire kept some tickets for door sales only on each night of their last tour. Up until now, the government has only taken action when internet auction sites allow reselling of free tickets, such as Live 8, or the upcoming BBC’s Radio One’s Big Weekend.
It’s the disparity between the rock industry and the rest of the entertainment world that causes the real problems. Scalping is banned at football matches, and touts face fines up to £5000 if caught selling outside a football stadium. Theatres make provision for ticket resale, by offering a returns service [and make additional money for themselves in the process]. Some theatres check eBay on a daily basis and try to locate and cancel tickets if they’re being sold on to third parties.
But when it comes to the gig punter, all such considerations vanish. Recently I bought tickets for a sold out event in Birmingham, and when it became apparent that I’d be unable to go, there were four options of getting rid of them. Two of these I could rule out immediately - I didn’t know anyone who wanted to go, and I wasn’t willing to scalp the tickets on eBay. So, I posted on the band’s forum, and also on Scarlet Mist, a website set up to allow fans to sell tickets on for face value, without incurring any fees. While I disposed of one of the pair via Scarlet Mist, I ended up nearly £40 out of pocket by doing things the ‘right’ way.
Earlier this month, the government convened The Culture, Media and Sport Select Committee, whose eleven-members will look into the whole issue of event ticketing. It’ll be interesting to see if this makes any recommendations that may change the current situation. I have a sneaky suspicion it will. After all, someone’s bound to realise that these rip-off merchants aren’t paying tax on their earnings.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
Movin' On Up
London Fields # 38
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 18 April 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The papers here are full of stories about London’s housing crisis. Having just been through the wringer of finding a new abode, I have first-hand experience of some of the difficulties, and how much you pay for so little. Another survey showed that Londoners had the smallest number of close friends of anyone in the UK , with an average of 5.3 each. Luckily, I managed to get through the past month with the support of some of mine. So why live here at all? Well, on nights when I really should have been packing, I snuck out and caught a few more nights of live music.
A few years back, I lent one of those friends my copy of The Lost Riots, the debut album from Hope Of The States. He loved the opening instrumental, The Black Amnesias, but lost interest when frontman Sam Herlihy began singing. He may well like Troubles then, as it’s the core of HotS, but without drums or vocals. The live performance is a forty-minute tone poem, as songs melt and merge into one another, tumbling more like movements of a greater vision, rather than individual pieces in their own right. There are eight on stage; Sam alternates between piano and guitar, whilst other members play guitars, strings and brass. The trouble with Troubles is that it’s all too much – they’re yet to find the openness or space in the sounds they’re creating. There’s too much kitchen sinking; it would be more effective if all of them didn’t play all the time. Still, this is definitely an evolving work in progress, and one to come back to.
They were supporting the very wonderful iLiKETRAiNS, who are also in the process of change. Gone are the trademark British Rail uniforms, replaced by white shirts, black ties at half mast, and mourning bands. They are halfway through recording their debut LP for Beggars Banquet, but there is no looking back – the album will be all new material. They play a few of these new compositions tonight, including current single Spencer Percival, a nine-minute epic about the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated in office. The band are a little sedate tonight, but the distance allows me to appreciate new aspects of them; the power of the drumming and how the band manage to keep reined back live, when the temptation must be to race and up the tempo.
On the other hand Arcade Fire managed to be distinctly underwhelming - how did my favourite live act of 2005 fall from their pedestal? Put simply, they now seem more like an incorporated company than a collective of like-minded individuals. The excitement of the random motion, like tea leaves swirling in hot water, has been replaced by something that feels far more choreographed. There’s less fun on stage, and the joy they used to communicate to their audience was lost in the cavernous spaces of the Brixton Academy . Still you couldn’t complain about the setlist, and how Power Out segues beautifully into Rebellion (Lies) to finish on Intervention. Yet tonight it all feels as false and hollow as the organ pipes on stage not actually connected to an organ, but merely for show.
But the live highlight of past month has probably been seeing the reformed James, playing their second ‘secret rehearsal’ gig in the tiny confines of Holloway’s Nambucca, mere weeks before their sold-out arena tour. Along with The Blue Aeroplanes, James were the best British band of the ‘90’s who never toured Australia . But now they’re back after a six-year hiatus, and it’s the classic six-piece who recorded the career-best Laid album. Tim Booth was carrying a shoulder injury, but he still swayed along, even if the electrocuted Ian Curtis dancing was put on hold for the evening. It was great to see them avoiding the ‘big’ numbers for this gig, playing songs so new that the ink on the handheld lyrics was barely dry, then delving deep into then back catalogue for songs like Chain Mail. I’d forgotten what a difference Larry Gott’s searing guitar made to their sound, but it’s the reaction between musicians who know and trust each other that makes this night so special, giving space and life to something like Heavens, which I’d only remembered from a somewhat homogenous form on Seven. I can’t wait to see them at Brixton now! Like the Gang of Four, James are another post-punk original returning to show pretenders how it’s really done!
On television, we sadly bid farewell to John Simm as Sam Tyler in the BBC’s Wizard Of Oz, time-travelling ‘70’s cop show Life On Mars. Yet it won’t be long before he’s back as the enigmatic Season Three meme Mr Saxon in Doctor Who. It may well get interesting if it’s more than coincidence that his Life On Mars character was an anagram of Masterly.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 18 April 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
The papers here are full of stories about London’s housing crisis. Having just been through the wringer of finding a new abode, I have first-hand experience of some of the difficulties, and how much you pay for so little. Another survey showed that Londoners had the smallest number of close friends of anyone in the UK , with an average of 5.3 each. Luckily, I managed to get through the past month with the support of some of mine. So why live here at all? Well, on nights when I really should have been packing, I snuck out and caught a few more nights of live music.
A few years back, I lent one of those friends my copy of The Lost Riots, the debut album from Hope Of The States. He loved the opening instrumental, The Black Amnesias, but lost interest when frontman Sam Herlihy began singing. He may well like Troubles then, as it’s the core of HotS, but without drums or vocals. The live performance is a forty-minute tone poem, as songs melt and merge into one another, tumbling more like movements of a greater vision, rather than individual pieces in their own right. There are eight on stage; Sam alternates between piano and guitar, whilst other members play guitars, strings and brass. The trouble with Troubles is that it’s all too much – they’re yet to find the openness or space in the sounds they’re creating. There’s too much kitchen sinking; it would be more effective if all of them didn’t play all the time. Still, this is definitely an evolving work in progress, and one to come back to.
They were supporting the very wonderful iLiKETRAiNS, who are also in the process of change. Gone are the trademark British Rail uniforms, replaced by white shirts, black ties at half mast, and mourning bands. They are halfway through recording their debut LP for Beggars Banquet, but there is no looking back – the album will be all new material. They play a few of these new compositions tonight, including current single Spencer Percival, a nine-minute epic about the only British Prime Minister to have been assassinated in office. The band are a little sedate tonight, but the distance allows me to appreciate new aspects of them; the power of the drumming and how the band manage to keep reined back live, when the temptation must be to race and up the tempo.
On the other hand Arcade Fire managed to be distinctly underwhelming - how did my favourite live act of 2005 fall from their pedestal? Put simply, they now seem more like an incorporated company than a collective of like-minded individuals. The excitement of the random motion, like tea leaves swirling in hot water, has been replaced by something that feels far more choreographed. There’s less fun on stage, and the joy they used to communicate to their audience was lost in the cavernous spaces of the Brixton Academy . Still you couldn’t complain about the setlist, and how Power Out segues beautifully into Rebellion (Lies) to finish on Intervention. Yet tonight it all feels as false and hollow as the organ pipes on stage not actually connected to an organ, but merely for show.
But the live highlight of past month has probably been seeing the reformed James, playing their second ‘secret rehearsal’ gig in the tiny confines of Holloway’s Nambucca, mere weeks before their sold-out arena tour. Along with The Blue Aeroplanes, James were the best British band of the ‘90’s who never toured Australia . But now they’re back after a six-year hiatus, and it’s the classic six-piece who recorded the career-best Laid album. Tim Booth was carrying a shoulder injury, but he still swayed along, even if the electrocuted Ian Curtis dancing was put on hold for the evening. It was great to see them avoiding the ‘big’ numbers for this gig, playing songs so new that the ink on the handheld lyrics was barely dry, then delving deep into then back catalogue for songs like Chain Mail. I’d forgotten what a difference Larry Gott’s searing guitar made to their sound, but it’s the reaction between musicians who know and trust each other that makes this night so special, giving space and life to something like Heavens, which I’d only remembered from a somewhat homogenous form on Seven. I can’t wait to see them at Brixton now! Like the Gang of Four, James are another post-punk original returning to show pretenders how it’s really done!
On television, we sadly bid farewell to John Simm as Sam Tyler in the BBC’s Wizard Of Oz, time-travelling ‘70’s cop show Life On Mars. Yet it won’t be long before he’s back as the enigmatic Season Three meme Mr Saxon in Doctor Who. It may well get interesting if it’s more than coincidence that his Life On Mars character was an anagram of Masterly.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 21 March 2007
I wander thro' each charter'd street
London Fields # 37
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 21 March 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Most of my free time recently has been taken up with flat hunting, as unexpectedly my (rented) home for the past four years has been placed on the market. While the vagaries of the London property market or an examination of the worlds revealed by snooping into other people’s homes, could both make worthy column topics, I really just don’t want to think. So rather bemoan my lot, maybe it’s better to write about some acts I’ve recently seen while not flat hunting?
American bureaucracy forced My Latest Novel down to London to apply in person for their visas for SxSW. Luckily for us, they thought to offset their expenses by playing a one-off show at The Spitz. They are serious but not sombre, and occasionally whimsical. What they play is neither fey, nor twee; Ryan’s drumming and the power of the vocals pack too much of a punch for that. They are masters of the dog-leg song; ones that start off in one direction, then, just when you think you have them sussed, veer off at right angles. Like when Wrongfully I Rested goes to a xylophone, then the violin swoops down and carries the song away. It’s a short-ish set tonight, but the highlights for me are two new songs, I Declare A Ceasefire and If The Accident Will. They clearly show that Wolves was no firework fluke, and that the second album promises to be wonderful rather than difficult.
I caught The Long Blondes twice this month. I thought their debut album was one of the biggest disappointments of 2006; such was the opportunity squandered. Then at their headline NME show, I realised the sad truth – that it was an accurate representation of the homogeneous band they’ve become. Yet as a support to Kaiser Chiefs a mere fortnight later they shine again, it’s roughly the same show without the lowlights. I still think their move towards being Kate Jackson and The Long Blondes is a grave mistake, but hey, it worked for Blondie. Speaking of new wave maestros, am I the only one who thinks that Kaiser Chiefs are today’s equivalent of The Police? Think about it - simplistic songs with singalong choruses that can be learnt on one listen. They put on a mighty fine show too, but sadly over familiarity via saturation airplay may well breed contempt a second time.
Each time I see Apartment, they give me new reasons to continue to rate them as highly as I do. At The Borderline, it was the daring to cover Willie Nelson’s Crazy (as immortalised by Patsy Cline), and to not only get away with it, but to make it entirely their own. There are now many strong tracks that it feels like a greatest hits set, and David’s complete demolition of a guitar during set closer Beyond My Control is the first time I’ve seen it done and not felt it was childish or unnecessary posturing. And they’ve signed Tim Ten Yen to their label Fleet Street Records, and will be releasing his debut single, Run Around (Get Around).
Tim Ten Yen is possibly the most arch creator of pure pop tunes since the heyday of The Reels! Tall, and wearing a suit, there’s a tiny bit of Nick Cave, a huge dollop of Neil Hammond, and even a sprinkling of Pee Wee Herman. It’s camp and vaguely silly, but as it’s done with such panache and humour he gets away with it. The songs are written to be remembered on first listen; his dance moves may take longer to pick up. For what you effectively have is someone who looks like a city worker running round like Bob Downe doing Ian Curtis, singing songs about bears and foxes up in the mountains. But TTY isn’t just limited to pop; his set touches reggae and country & western, even leaving room for a paean to MOR. So, what on one level is a giant karaoke show, with a besuited man running on the spot, adding occasional live Casio accompaniment, becomes one of the most endearingly funny and original things I’ve seen in ages.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are a strange beast. They play to a formula but are in no way formulaic. They have pretensions, yet still seem to be honest and genuine. Theirs is a simple colour palette: white, red and black, with a misting of dry ice. Tonight they get all the big numbers out of the way early, which allows them to get on and just play. And when they get going they’re like some relentless juggernaut. Playing a one-off gig in a beautiful Art Deco ballroom to preview songs from the forthcoming Baby 81, BRMC demonstrate that they have moved on from Howl, but the acoustic guitars that were the backbone of that album are still in place, but now playing rock. It’s hard to really let go at their shows as they don’t – they may be an extremely good live act, but while enthusiastic they never seem impassioned. So when the audience go nuts for Punk Song, they don’t. Nevertheless, I’m still looking forward to seeing them again in a month.
By which time I hope normal service have been resumed, from a new home (if I can find it)…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 21 March 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Most of my free time recently has been taken up with flat hunting, as unexpectedly my (rented) home for the past four years has been placed on the market. While the vagaries of the London property market or an examination of the worlds revealed by snooping into other people’s homes, could both make worthy column topics, I really just don’t want to think. So rather bemoan my lot, maybe it’s better to write about some acts I’ve recently seen while not flat hunting?
American bureaucracy forced My Latest Novel down to London to apply in person for their visas for SxSW. Luckily for us, they thought to offset their expenses by playing a one-off show at The Spitz. They are serious but not sombre, and occasionally whimsical. What they play is neither fey, nor twee; Ryan’s drumming and the power of the vocals pack too much of a punch for that. They are masters of the dog-leg song; ones that start off in one direction, then, just when you think you have them sussed, veer off at right angles. Like when Wrongfully I Rested goes to a xylophone, then the violin swoops down and carries the song away. It’s a short-ish set tonight, but the highlights for me are two new songs, I Declare A Ceasefire and If The Accident Will. They clearly show that Wolves was no firework fluke, and that the second album promises to be wonderful rather than difficult.
I caught The Long Blondes twice this month. I thought their debut album was one of the biggest disappointments of 2006; such was the opportunity squandered. Then at their headline NME show, I realised the sad truth – that it was an accurate representation of the homogeneous band they’ve become. Yet as a support to Kaiser Chiefs a mere fortnight later they shine again, it’s roughly the same show without the lowlights. I still think their move towards being Kate Jackson and The Long Blondes is a grave mistake, but hey, it worked for Blondie. Speaking of new wave maestros, am I the only one who thinks that Kaiser Chiefs are today’s equivalent of The Police? Think about it - simplistic songs with singalong choruses that can be learnt on one listen. They put on a mighty fine show too, but sadly over familiarity via saturation airplay may well breed contempt a second time.
Each time I see Apartment, they give me new reasons to continue to rate them as highly as I do. At The Borderline, it was the daring to cover Willie Nelson’s Crazy (as immortalised by Patsy Cline), and to not only get away with it, but to make it entirely their own. There are now many strong tracks that it feels like a greatest hits set, and David’s complete demolition of a guitar during set closer Beyond My Control is the first time I’ve seen it done and not felt it was childish or unnecessary posturing. And they’ve signed Tim Ten Yen to their label Fleet Street Records, and will be releasing his debut single, Run Around (Get Around).
Tim Ten Yen is possibly the most arch creator of pure pop tunes since the heyday of The Reels! Tall, and wearing a suit, there’s a tiny bit of Nick Cave, a huge dollop of Neil Hammond, and even a sprinkling of Pee Wee Herman. It’s camp and vaguely silly, but as it’s done with such panache and humour he gets away with it. The songs are written to be remembered on first listen; his dance moves may take longer to pick up. For what you effectively have is someone who looks like a city worker running round like Bob Downe doing Ian Curtis, singing songs about bears and foxes up in the mountains. But TTY isn’t just limited to pop; his set touches reggae and country & western, even leaving room for a paean to MOR. So, what on one level is a giant karaoke show, with a besuited man running on the spot, adding occasional live Casio accompaniment, becomes one of the most endearingly funny and original things I’ve seen in ages.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are a strange beast. They play to a formula but are in no way formulaic. They have pretensions, yet still seem to be honest and genuine. Theirs is a simple colour palette: white, red and black, with a misting of dry ice. Tonight they get all the big numbers out of the way early, which allows them to get on and just play. And when they get going they’re like some relentless juggernaut. Playing a one-off gig in a beautiful Art Deco ballroom to preview songs from the forthcoming Baby 81, BRMC demonstrate that they have moved on from Howl, but the acoustic guitars that were the backbone of that album are still in place, but now playing rock. It’s hard to really let go at their shows as they don’t – they may be an extremely good live act, but while enthusiastic they never seem impassioned. So when the audience go nuts for Punk Song, they don’t. Nevertheless, I’m still looking forward to seeing them again in a month.
By which time I hope normal service have been resumed, from a new home (if I can find it)…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 21 February 2007
We're Just Talking To The Kids
London Fields # 36
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 21 February 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
You can’t open a newspaper or turn on the TV in the UK at the moment without some new revelation about the state of youth in Britain today. So is there really something worrying about the environment that society has created for those growing up in urban areas?
Well, there are two big stories over the past fortnight that have given this discussion renewed vigour; firstly a series of inner city shootings, and secondly a report from UNICEF which placed the well-being of children in the UK at the bottom of a list of 21 industrialised nations.
The outward signs are that the UK is a gun-free nation. Bobbies still patrol the streets unarmed [if you don’t include nightsticks, pepper spray or bullet-proof vests] and unlike Australia, you’d never see a store security guard with a gun. In fact it’s a bit of a shock when you do see armed coppers, even if the sight has become more common in the post-9/11 society. Sadly though, this is becoming a dangerous anachronism. In South London, three teenagers have died from gunshot injuries over the past few weeks. The official response was a call to lower the minimum age for mandatory sentencing of five years if found guilty of being in possession of a firearm, but nothing much is said about the reasons for the behaviour.
None of this will change while guns are seen as a fashion statement. One summer’s afternoon while walking in Hackney, a kid of about fifteen caught my eye and then winked as he lifted his t-shirt to reveal a gun stuffed into the waistband of his jeans. And this was just a few days after an execution shooting in roughly the same spot. If they’re trying to frighten, they’ve succeeded.
The UNICEF report, Child Poverty in Perspective: An Overview of Child Well-being in Rich Countries, used forty indicators from 2000-2003 to determine "…whether children feel loved, cherished, special and supported, within the family and community, and whether the family and community are being supported in this task by public policy and resources". Sadly, its findings were used as a political mallet, rather than as a tool for much-needed change.
There was also a bit of an outcry about the content of new E4 television series Skins, which follows a group of fifteen and sixteen year old friends from Bristol, who quite possibly attend the school from Teachers. The furore was that teenagers were shown to drink, take drugs, have sex and generally try to enjoy being alive. The wowsers couldn’t see past this to find a fairly accurate picture of mainly likeable characters facing issues about discovering who they are and how they fit.
It’s an extremely well considered and intelligent piece of television, at a time when the dearth of new ideas in British dramas (see Robin Hood, Hotel Babylon, New Street Law, Party Animals, etc.) is more evident than any exciting developments. The audacious part of the series is that each episode is seen from the viewpoint of a different character. But instead of the hackneyed device of telling the same story over again from a different perspective, Skins has an ongoing narrative that is like a relay race, where each week one of them takes the story and runs with it for a few days. Clever too is the viral element behind the show. There is a MySpace page for each of the characters, and these are all ‘in character’. And you do get to care about them too; the unfolding story of Cassie is heartbreaking.
Maybe a lot of fuss can be written off as stereotyping or political football. But the other side is that you’re not reading stories about shenanigans on the streets of Somerset towns; no it’s Manchester and London. Because it’s true that there’s not much to do in the inner city; areas are heavily built up; it’s grey and brick with few parklands or leisure facilities. I suppose you can watch telly, or play computer games or even kick a ball round on the street if you can avoid the traffic. Even going to see a film will put you back about $25 so you may as well hang around with your mates and kill the time looking for something to do.
There are pressures to grown-up quickly too. The National Curriculum Assessments (SATs) has children and schools being graded and compared nationally at the ages of seven, eleven and fourteen. Maybe part of the problem is that there is no time left to be kids?
Day-after-day I hear of people leaving London as "it’s no place to raise a family"; but isn’t a society a reflection of its members? Things aren’t as bad as they are painted, but saying ‘things are OK but could be better’ is not going to win anyone’s vote. I don’t have the answers to any of the questions I’ve raised. But simply abandoning the ship will leave it to sink with many still onboard…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 21 February 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
You can’t open a newspaper or turn on the TV in the UK at the moment without some new revelation about the state of youth in Britain today. So is there really something worrying about the environment that society has created for those growing up in urban areas?
Well, there are two big stories over the past fortnight that have given this discussion renewed vigour; firstly a series of inner city shootings, and secondly a report from UNICEF which placed the well-being of children in the UK at the bottom of a list of 21 industrialised nations.
The outward signs are that the UK is a gun-free nation. Bobbies still patrol the streets unarmed [if you don’t include nightsticks, pepper spray or bullet-proof vests] and unlike Australia, you’d never see a store security guard with a gun. In fact it’s a bit of a shock when you do see armed coppers, even if the sight has become more common in the post-9/11 society. Sadly though, this is becoming a dangerous anachronism. In South London, three teenagers have died from gunshot injuries over the past few weeks. The official response was a call to lower the minimum age for mandatory sentencing of five years if found guilty of being in possession of a firearm, but nothing much is said about the reasons for the behaviour.
None of this will change while guns are seen as a fashion statement. One summer’s afternoon while walking in Hackney, a kid of about fifteen caught my eye and then winked as he lifted his t-shirt to reveal a gun stuffed into the waistband of his jeans. And this was just a few days after an execution shooting in roughly the same spot. If they’re trying to frighten, they’ve succeeded.
The UNICEF report, Child Poverty in Perspective: An Overview of Child Well-being in Rich Countries, used forty indicators from 2000-2003 to determine "…whether children feel loved, cherished, special and supported, within the family and community, and whether the family and community are being supported in this task by public policy and resources". Sadly, its findings were used as a political mallet, rather than as a tool for much-needed change.
There was also a bit of an outcry about the content of new E4 television series Skins, which follows a group of fifteen and sixteen year old friends from Bristol, who quite possibly attend the school from Teachers. The furore was that teenagers were shown to drink, take drugs, have sex and generally try to enjoy being alive. The wowsers couldn’t see past this to find a fairly accurate picture of mainly likeable characters facing issues about discovering who they are and how they fit.
It’s an extremely well considered and intelligent piece of television, at a time when the dearth of new ideas in British dramas (see Robin Hood, Hotel Babylon, New Street Law, Party Animals, etc.) is more evident than any exciting developments. The audacious part of the series is that each episode is seen from the viewpoint of a different character. But instead of the hackneyed device of telling the same story over again from a different perspective, Skins has an ongoing narrative that is like a relay race, where each week one of them takes the story and runs with it for a few days. Clever too is the viral element behind the show. There is a MySpace page for each of the characters, and these are all ‘in character’. And you do get to care about them too; the unfolding story of Cassie is heartbreaking.
Maybe a lot of fuss can be written off as stereotyping or political football. But the other side is that you’re not reading stories about shenanigans on the streets of Somerset towns; no it’s Manchester and London. Because it’s true that there’s not much to do in the inner city; areas are heavily built up; it’s grey and brick with few parklands or leisure facilities. I suppose you can watch telly, or play computer games or even kick a ball round on the street if you can avoid the traffic. Even going to see a film will put you back about $25 so you may as well hang around with your mates and kill the time looking for something to do.
There are pressures to grown-up quickly too. The National Curriculum Assessments (SATs) has children and schools being graded and compared nationally at the ages of seven, eleven and fourteen. Maybe part of the problem is that there is no time left to be kids?
Day-after-day I hear of people leaving London as "it’s no place to raise a family"; but isn’t a society a reflection of its members? Things aren’t as bad as they are painted, but saying ‘things are OK but could be better’ is not going to win anyone’s vote. I don’t have the answers to any of the questions I’ve raised. But simply abandoning the ship will leave it to sink with many still onboard…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 24 January 2007
Man In The Mirror
London Fields # 35
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 24 January 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
There’s nothing the British love more than a good old natter. And recent events on the fifth series of Celebrity Big Brother have provided fodder for countless conversations and debates, as well as thousands of column inches, both here in the UK and around the world. It has also thrown up a large mirror on some aspects of British society, and the picture isn’t pretty.
CBB5 has been all about humiliation as entertainment, and I’m not just referring to the behaviour of the housemates. On the third day Jade Goody, her boyfriend, and her harridan of a mother arrived in the house, and the "celebrities" were told to act as servants to them. Now Jade was ‘made’ by appearing in the third series of the UK version Big Brother back in 2002. Although she didn’t win, she was probably the most memorable housemate, becoming famous for her sheer ignorance and stupidity.
Which was why it was easy to understand why Towers Of London’s frontman Donny Tourette jumped the fence rather than kow-tow to the three newcomers. Next film director Ken Russell walked after a row with Jade (though perhaps it was also because no one in the house knew who he was anyway) and it was starting to look a bit desperate. Finally Leo Sayer went loco and smashed his way out of the house (because thought he didn’t have any clean underwear) and the future of the show was looking bleak.
Now Jade had been put there for her distinct lack of tact, and on her first day she asked Jermaine Jackson if his brother Michael’s pale skin was because he was mixed race like her. While her lack of propriety and complete misunderstanding of other cultures was guaranteed to cause conflicts, I don’t think anyone saw how far it would go. Jade was certainly the ringleader of the bullying, but in her case I think it was more to do with class than race. Class as in place in society, and in the way one purports oneself.
Was it racist though? There’s little you can say to defend Danielle Lloyd comment of Shilpa "She should fuck off home!". In an attempt at damage limitation, Lloyd’s family issued a statement which contains the following: 'F* off home' is a term frequently used sometimes as an insult and sometimes in a jovial fashion between young people today...’. Yeah, so that’s why Lloyd’s agent included this in her list of DON’Ts for her time in the house: "Don't be racist - show you're bigger than that. If you have a strong opinion about something give your reasons for it."
But the production company has to accept blame as well. Jade’s mum Jackiey was like a real-life Margery Dawes – the character in Little Britain who claims not be able to understand a world said by the Indian woman in her Fat Fighters group. Jackiey claimed that Bollywood star Shilpa Shetty’s name was too difficult, and just referred to her as "The Indian". But when she wasn’t challenged over this behaviour in her post-eviction interview.
The producers could also be accused of demeaning acts and bullying. Such as pumping out Michael Jackson’s Man In The Mirror as a wake-up song, coincidentally while Jermaine was styling his barnet. Or asking Jermaine to form a Jackson 5 tribute band, replete with afro wigs, and H to form a rival tribute act from his former life in Steps. It was like an experiment to see how much they could get their celebs to piss on their life’s achievements. This near envy was mirrored by Jade when she met someone who made her feel inadequate merely by her easy manner and grace.
So with Jade gone, did the bullying cease? No it just changed targets. The following day saw Kenny Everett sidekick Cleo Rocos relentlessly flirt with Dirk Benedict in a nasty way, for pay him back for a ribald conversation he had earlier in the day about pornography. And she wouldn’t stop, even when he told her on very clear terms that it wasn’t fun. No, her mission was to see if she could get him to ‘crack’.
Yes, there was some racism in the house, and maybe it indicates that under the guise of a more enlightened politically correct society, deeper divides are still in place. But it was more a battle of class, and Shilpa being one of the few to emerge with any. Yet this show is a sad reflection of modern Britain in another way - no one stood up and said, "Stop!". Not the housemates, not "Big Brother", not the producers. Not, that is, until complaints watchdog Ofcom received a record number of complaints. This is the Bystander Britain; you observe but don’t intervene for fear of being dragged in yourself. I suppose the only positive to come out of it all is that it has got people talking, and hopefully thinking about issues of race and bullying.
All except the TV stations it seems. How else could you explain the new series of Shipwrecked which commenced on Sunday, also on Channel 4? One of the castaways is a posh outspoken brat who believes in the British Empire and is all for the return of slavery… Your fifteen minutes awaits!
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 24 January 2007
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
There’s nothing the British love more than a good old natter. And recent events on the fifth series of Celebrity Big Brother have provided fodder for countless conversations and debates, as well as thousands of column inches, both here in the UK and around the world. It has also thrown up a large mirror on some aspects of British society, and the picture isn’t pretty.
CBB5 has been all about humiliation as entertainment, and I’m not just referring to the behaviour of the housemates. On the third day Jade Goody, her boyfriend, and her harridan of a mother arrived in the house, and the "celebrities" were told to act as servants to them. Now Jade was ‘made’ by appearing in the third series of the UK version Big Brother back in 2002. Although she didn’t win, she was probably the most memorable housemate, becoming famous for her sheer ignorance and stupidity.
Which was why it was easy to understand why Towers Of London’s frontman Donny Tourette jumped the fence rather than kow-tow to the three newcomers. Next film director Ken Russell walked after a row with Jade (though perhaps it was also because no one in the house knew who he was anyway) and it was starting to look a bit desperate. Finally Leo Sayer went loco and smashed his way out of the house (because thought he didn’t have any clean underwear) and the future of the show was looking bleak.
Now Jade had been put there for her distinct lack of tact, and on her first day she asked Jermaine Jackson if his brother Michael’s pale skin was because he was mixed race like her. While her lack of propriety and complete misunderstanding of other cultures was guaranteed to cause conflicts, I don’t think anyone saw how far it would go. Jade was certainly the ringleader of the bullying, but in her case I think it was more to do with class than race. Class as in place in society, and in the way one purports oneself.
Was it racist though? There’s little you can say to defend Danielle Lloyd comment of Shilpa "She should fuck off home!". In an attempt at damage limitation, Lloyd’s family issued a statement which contains the following: 'F* off home' is a term frequently used sometimes as an insult and sometimes in a jovial fashion between young people today...’. Yeah, so that’s why Lloyd’s agent included this in her list of DON’Ts for her time in the house: "Don't be racist - show you're bigger than that. If you have a strong opinion about something give your reasons for it."
But the production company has to accept blame as well. Jade’s mum Jackiey was like a real-life Margery Dawes – the character in Little Britain who claims not be able to understand a world said by the Indian woman in her Fat Fighters group. Jackiey claimed that Bollywood star Shilpa Shetty’s name was too difficult, and just referred to her as "The Indian". But when she wasn’t challenged over this behaviour in her post-eviction interview.
The producers could also be accused of demeaning acts and bullying. Such as pumping out Michael Jackson’s Man In The Mirror as a wake-up song, coincidentally while Jermaine was styling his barnet. Or asking Jermaine to form a Jackson 5 tribute band, replete with afro wigs, and H to form a rival tribute act from his former life in Steps. It was like an experiment to see how much they could get their celebs to piss on their life’s achievements. This near envy was mirrored by Jade when she met someone who made her feel inadequate merely by her easy manner and grace.
So with Jade gone, did the bullying cease? No it just changed targets. The following day saw Kenny Everett sidekick Cleo Rocos relentlessly flirt with Dirk Benedict in a nasty way, for pay him back for a ribald conversation he had earlier in the day about pornography. And she wouldn’t stop, even when he told her on very clear terms that it wasn’t fun. No, her mission was to see if she could get him to ‘crack’.
Yes, there was some racism in the house, and maybe it indicates that under the guise of a more enlightened politically correct society, deeper divides are still in place. But it was more a battle of class, and Shilpa being one of the few to emerge with any. Yet this show is a sad reflection of modern Britain in another way - no one stood up and said, "Stop!". Not the housemates, not "Big Brother", not the producers. Not, that is, until complaints watchdog Ofcom received a record number of complaints. This is the Bystander Britain; you observe but don’t intervene for fear of being dragged in yourself. I suppose the only positive to come out of it all is that it has got people talking, and hopefully thinking about issues of race and bullying.
All except the TV stations it seems. How else could you explain the new series of Shipwrecked which commenced on Sunday, also on Channel 4? One of the castaways is a posh outspoken brat who believes in the British Empire and is all for the return of slavery… Your fifteen minutes awaits!
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 27 December 2006
Remembering 2006
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
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, 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
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