London Fields # 30
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 6 September 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
London isn’t so much a city, as a series of villages and settlements that grew larger and larger until they encroached upon one another until they became an integrated whole. Thus there are still tensions and rivalries both within and between the divergent communities.
I was still at home with flu on 10 August, and had no idea why the air was full with the sound of choppers. Seven houses were raided in my borough, one of them opposite my corner shop. Airports ground to a virtual halt. There were talking heads saying that it was virtually impossible to screen hand luggage in a workable time, and so hand luggage became a no-no.
In the Evening Standard that evening, their article on the raid began: "One of the suspects believed to have been arrested in today’s raids is described as a young man in his twenties with a long beard and who wears traditional Islamic dress…" Meanwhile there’s been talk of racial profiling, and justifiable opposition to it.
But some people have decided to take such matters into their own hands. Passengers on the Monarch Airlines flight from Malaga to Manchester refused to fly because of the ‘suspicious’ actions of two passengers. They weren’t speaking in English, nor were they dressed in Hawaiian shirts, shorts and thongs. Definitely suss - because every good terrorist wants to be as conspicuous as possible, right? Anyway, the flight was kept on the ground until the two Muslim characters were removed. These two students caught a later flight a few hours later without incident.
Just an isolated case perhaps? Well, how about the story of Syed Husain, who’s lived in London for the last thirty years? He made a mistake though when he decided to take his relatives from Dubai on the London Eye - he spoke to them in Arabic. This led to a bag search, where his two small bottles of water and a carton of juice were deemed too great a threat to go on this giant upmarket ferris wheel opposite the Houses of Parliament. So while his rellies were held in a secure area, he made the 25 minute round trip to put the offending bag in a locker at Waterloo Station. Yet this still wasn’t enough for the security guard, who then insisted on a manual search in case this 65 year old man was carrying weapons. And how did British Airways, who own the wheel, react when this story broke? They offered him two free tickets. Yes come to Britain, as long as you dress right and speak English. Sad days indeed!
With all this going on, it seemed like a good idea to get out of the smoke for a while. Seeking fresh air, I headed to the nearest sea, joking with mates that the reason I was heading to Brighton was to stalk Nick Cave. Which was funny as no sooner than I walked off the station concourse than in front of me I spied the unmistakable figure of the tall, sartorially elegant Mr Cave himself.
He still has that ridiculous moustache, and was dressed in an ice cream suit and loafers. By the time I reached him he was sitting in the back of a tourist Tuk-Tuk, which run on fixed routes to Brighton landmarks. I asked him what he’d been up to, and he told me he had a new band called Grinderman, and that the LP would be out next April.
Back home again, I checked out the annual Walthamstow Festival. Last year they had Natasha Atlas and The Beat; this year there was a home-made dalek! Of course, weekend engineering works on the trains coincided with the event, so there were no tubes connecting us to the West End on the Sunday. Anyway, as a part of this, the art project A Thousand Faces of Waltham Forest was transferred to the hoardings of the demolished shopping centre. But in the light of raised suspicions following nearly thirty arrests, these headshots seemed more like a rogues’ gallery than a celebration of diversity. Which probably isn’t the idea behind the borough’s post-raids PR campaign - Waltham Forest: 225,000 people – 1 community.
But I finished the month by taking part in the monthly film quiz at my local. As Waltham Forest is the only London borough without a cinema, the quiz is run by the McGuffins (Alfred Hitchcock was a local lad) to help promote their campaign to reopen the local cinema which shut three years earlier. But what was great was the cross section of locals there, including the local MP. Now maybe not all the community would use a pub, but after all that has happened it was a nice way to spend an evening.
Of course, there are ongoing operations, and between the time I submit this and you read it, who knows what will have transpired. But the message is life in the capital goes on, even if some people have a new interpretation of what is meant by Neighbourhood Watch…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 6 September 2006
Wednesday, 9 August 2006
On Film
London Fields # 29
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 9 August 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Living in a city this big can be an isolating experience. It’s hard to get to know people, and friends may live literally hours away. I’ve been stuck at home with flu contemplating this, and other conundrums of capital living.
This has also given me a lot of time to vegetate in front of the television. But even with hundreds of subscription TV channels, it can still be hard to find something to watch. For some reason I’ve found myself watching a film called Perfect Strangers on more than one occasion. Made a couple of years back, it tells the story of two advertising executives, who swap cities (New York and London), lives and jobs. So while Brit Anna Friel is swept up in the big apple, Rob Lowe takes over her cottage and job in London.
Naturally the London portrayed in the film bears no resemblance to the real thing. There’s no traffic, you can park your car anywhere, your home is simple and beautiful [but would cost a bomb in reality], and clubs are spacious and smoke-free. OK, so this is a romantic comedy, a romance where the pair discovers each other without actually meeting, but in their world they have to come up with a campaign to get American tourists back to London. Their brainstorm is to sweep away the whole notion of history and beefeaters to portray it as a vibrant city of lovers, all set to a jazz score. Of course, it’s a great success.
For no explicable reason, BBC Four had a mini Australian season last week. Featured was a documentary about the relationship between Australia and the UK called Oz And Them. Many of those talking heads were so expatriate, that it felt strange them giving an ‘Australian’ viewpoint – step forward Germaine Greer, Clive James, and very punny (and unfunny) Kathy Lette. Also screened was The Adventures of Barry McKenzie; although a satire, there was probably once some truth in the grimy [and now virtually non-existent] London it portrayed.
Yet the city is constantly changing. It used to be almost be a joke that London needed Aussies as someone had to work behind the bars. But these days, following the EU expansion of May 2004, that role is more likely to be taken by someone from Eastern Europe. In fact, there’s been a 145% increase in National Insurance registrations from these new countries [up by 160 000], so now there are more Polish than Irish workers in the UK.
So what is a true picture of London is 2006?
Is it the booze culture that has seen alcohol-related deaths double in the past thirteen years?
Is it the air quality [or lack of it] that has given the English capital the dubious distinction of having the highest death rate in Europe for respiratory disease?
Is it the thought that the live video capture on screens on the buses, showing the images being captured on CCTV, may be a deterrent just in case you were thinking of trying something?
A city that couldn’t cope with the power drain during the heatwave, resulting in blackouts in central London?
A world marketplace as evidenced by the families in the supermarket car parks selling bootleg DVDs?
Well, all of them in a way. We can be happy that the numbers of burglaries have dropped, even if this may bear direst correlation to the rise in muggings, which provide easier pickings, now that we have our mobiles and mp3 players…
Yes, the city will still continue to draw folks from everywhere, whether as detritus going down a drain, moths to a candle, or just the attraction to the speed of it all. It is addictive, even if it can be a very lonely place to be. And it’s this constant change that makes the experience rewarding.
Then again, why would you expect a realistic view of a city on film? And what is a better reflection? The joyous working class singing and dancing Who Will Buy? in Carol Reed’s Oliver!? The underbelly shown in Stephen Poliakoff’s Hidden City? The stylised view presented by Patrick Keiller’s London? Or the disappearing world of Hackney Wick as seen in Finisterre? Personally, the only time I’ve seen a London I recognised on film was in Michael Winterbottom’s Wonderland.
Anyway, that’s enough time spent inside in front of a screen. Time to go out and see some more.
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 9 August 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Living in a city this big can be an isolating experience. It’s hard to get to know people, and friends may live literally hours away. I’ve been stuck at home with flu contemplating this, and other conundrums of capital living.
This has also given me a lot of time to vegetate in front of the television. But even with hundreds of subscription TV channels, it can still be hard to find something to watch. For some reason I’ve found myself watching a film called Perfect Strangers on more than one occasion. Made a couple of years back, it tells the story of two advertising executives, who swap cities (New York and London), lives and jobs. So while Brit Anna Friel is swept up in the big apple, Rob Lowe takes over her cottage and job in London.
Naturally the London portrayed in the film bears no resemblance to the real thing. There’s no traffic, you can park your car anywhere, your home is simple and beautiful [but would cost a bomb in reality], and clubs are spacious and smoke-free. OK, so this is a romantic comedy, a romance where the pair discovers each other without actually meeting, but in their world they have to come up with a campaign to get American tourists back to London. Their brainstorm is to sweep away the whole notion of history and beefeaters to portray it as a vibrant city of lovers, all set to a jazz score. Of course, it’s a great success.
For no explicable reason, BBC Four had a mini Australian season last week. Featured was a documentary about the relationship between Australia and the UK called Oz And Them. Many of those talking heads were so expatriate, that it felt strange them giving an ‘Australian’ viewpoint – step forward Germaine Greer, Clive James, and very punny (and unfunny) Kathy Lette. Also screened was The Adventures of Barry McKenzie; although a satire, there was probably once some truth in the grimy [and now virtually non-existent] London it portrayed.
Yet the city is constantly changing. It used to be almost be a joke that London needed Aussies as someone had to work behind the bars. But these days, following the EU expansion of May 2004, that role is more likely to be taken by someone from Eastern Europe. In fact, there’s been a 145% increase in National Insurance registrations from these new countries [up by 160 000], so now there are more Polish than Irish workers in the UK.
So what is a true picture of London is 2006?
Is it the booze culture that has seen alcohol-related deaths double in the past thirteen years?
Is it the air quality [or lack of it] that has given the English capital the dubious distinction of having the highest death rate in Europe for respiratory disease?
Is it the thought that the live video capture on screens on the buses, showing the images being captured on CCTV, may be a deterrent just in case you were thinking of trying something?
A city that couldn’t cope with the power drain during the heatwave, resulting in blackouts in central London?
A world marketplace as evidenced by the families in the supermarket car parks selling bootleg DVDs?
Well, all of them in a way. We can be happy that the numbers of burglaries have dropped, even if this may bear direst correlation to the rise in muggings, which provide easier pickings, now that we have our mobiles and mp3 players…
Yes, the city will still continue to draw folks from everywhere, whether as detritus going down a drain, moths to a candle, or just the attraction to the speed of it all. It is addictive, even if it can be a very lonely place to be. And it’s this constant change that makes the experience rewarding.
Then again, why would you expect a realistic view of a city on film? And what is a better reflection? The joyous working class singing and dancing Who Will Buy? in Carol Reed’s Oliver!? The underbelly shown in Stephen Poliakoff’s Hidden City? The stylised view presented by Patrick Keiller’s London? Or the disappearing world of Hackney Wick as seen in Finisterre? Personally, the only time I’ve seen a London I recognised on film was in Michael Winterbottom’s Wonderland.
Anyway, that’s enough time spent inside in front of a screen. Time to go out and see some more.
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 12 July 2006
A Matter Of Perspective
London Fields # 28
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 12 July 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Three Saturdays ago, I was sitting at home at a loose end. Doctor Who had finished, it was warm and still daylight and rather than sit at home, I walked up to a local pub, as Ed Tudor-Pole was due to play. I had no idea what to expect.
What I found was a weird mixture of cabaret and spleen. He’s angry, and loathes the current government. His hand-painted shirt is scrawled with slogans, including Socialism Is Shit and Destroy PC. He plays with a manic energy, wielding the most beaten-up guitar you’ll ever see. One of his steel toe-capped boots seems intent on going off on its own, taking his leg with it. He pays all the hits, from Who Killed Bambi to the Tenpole Tudor classics Wunderbar and Swords of A Thousand Men.
What I didn’t expect was to be invited to join his table and spend the next few hours chatting with him, hearing unprintable stories of the times of punk from someone who was at one time a Sex Pistol. His new material is political, but he’s not happy with me when I suggest that his Conservative stance makes him the anti-Billy Bragg. Oh, and if any promoter is reading this - he would love to come and tour Australia…
It’s moments like these that make the sometimes-alienating experience of living in a foreign land all worthwhile. It’s a seesaw battle; sometimes; events, circumstances and mood can all conspire to make the experience a good or bad one. But sometimes it’s all a question of attitude, but when things happen that you couldn’t imagine happening back home, and you gotta smile and say to yourself – “Yeah!”
It can get you down when you fork out hundreds just to have the water connected to your house, and then have a hosepipe ban imposed when a “drought” is declared. Not that it’s a countrywide water shortage – just the Thames Water region. Yup! That’s the company that has just posted a 31% pre-tax rise in profits to £346.5 million this year; the very same company that loses 894 million litres every day through leaky pipes. But if you use a hose, you’ll cop a walloping fine!
Many of the best live bands I’ve seen in my time here have never made it to Australia, and probably never will. It was so great to see Paul Buchanan of The Blue Nile touring for the first time in ten years (and to chat to him at the Barbican). The shows were something quite extraordinary, as the intimate music of a thousand bedrooms became an intimate concert for a thousand people. Sometimes, it felt almost too personal, like eavesdropping on a confessional – this truly was art without artifice. The highlight was A Walk Across The Rooftops with its blend of strings, drum machine bass and vulnerable yet powerful vocals. Their sound may be ‘80’s, but it doesn’t sound dated at all.
Ken Livingston, the Mayor of London is encouraging us to take up cycling as a major form of transport. But in London it simply isn’t safe - only last weekend, a local man was killed in a head on collision. That wouldn’t be so unusual, except that he was one of around seven hundred cyclists taking part in the fourteenth annual running of The Dunwich Dynamo, from inner London suburb Hackney to Dunwich beach on the Suffolk coast. I used to cycle too, until one day an idiot leaned out a passenger window and pushed me under a (thankfully stationary) bus. But it really ended for me when I lost two friends, killed on their bikes in separate daytime incidents, within the space of six weeks. That’s why my bike is slowly rusting in the back garden.
It doesn’t take much now for an act to get huge in the UK. Hard-Fi managed to sell out a five-night run at London’s largest pub venue, the 4 500 capacity Brixton Academy, with a single album. Editors managed to sell out a three-night stand, and they were playing 800 venues only eight months earlier. But being as popular as this doesn’t necessarily make for an entertaining evening. In fact, after my experiences at Death Cab For Cutie the other week, I think I’m really over seeing BIG shows.
Now I’m quite fond of them on record, but as a live experience, DCFC weren’t much fun. The audience was one of the most annoying I’ve ever experienced; it was like being transported back to a 3XY Under 18’s Concert. The music and playing was so safe and bland - it was the epitome of what used to be known as college radio, or an emo version of Coldplay. The nadir came when a second drum kit was set up for Ben Gibbard – rather than generating excitement, I was reminded of one of those clockwork drumming monkeys. The only saving grace was Chris Walla – whether he was on guitar, keyboards or bass, he really was the star of this act.
So I’m sticking to smaller gigs from now on. It’s great to see bands longs before they hit the radar, and even bigger bands are more enjoyable in a smaller space. It was wonderful seeing The Church playing a tiny basement club (The Borderline) a month ago. Even if sometimes they work too hard to show what rounded and talented musicians they all are, theirs is an easy grace that comes from their years of playing together. Steve Kilbey was having a few voice troubles, but nothing that distracted from gambit of emotions the set went through. From the fun about how they have no market in Manchester leading to a riffing on Joy Division’s She’s Lost Control, to a Providence dedicated to Grant McLennan, and a final moving segue of Invisible into Bye Bye Pride that stayed with me for days. And I’d never seen Steve sing without the comfort of a guitar before either!
As Lily Allen states in LDN, it’s all about perspective: “You might laugh, you might frown, Walkin' round London town…” Indeed! Sometimes it’s all a question of attitude…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 12 July 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Three Saturdays ago, I was sitting at home at a loose end. Doctor Who had finished, it was warm and still daylight and rather than sit at home, I walked up to a local pub, as Ed Tudor-Pole was due to play. I had no idea what to expect.
What I found was a weird mixture of cabaret and spleen. He’s angry, and loathes the current government. His hand-painted shirt is scrawled with slogans, including Socialism Is Shit and Destroy PC. He plays with a manic energy, wielding the most beaten-up guitar you’ll ever see. One of his steel toe-capped boots seems intent on going off on its own, taking his leg with it. He pays all the hits, from Who Killed Bambi to the Tenpole Tudor classics Wunderbar and Swords of A Thousand Men.
What I didn’t expect was to be invited to join his table and spend the next few hours chatting with him, hearing unprintable stories of the times of punk from someone who was at one time a Sex Pistol. His new material is political, but he’s not happy with me when I suggest that his Conservative stance makes him the anti-Billy Bragg. Oh, and if any promoter is reading this - he would love to come and tour Australia…
It’s moments like these that make the sometimes-alienating experience of living in a foreign land all worthwhile. It’s a seesaw battle; sometimes; events, circumstances and mood can all conspire to make the experience a good or bad one. But sometimes it’s all a question of attitude, but when things happen that you couldn’t imagine happening back home, and you gotta smile and say to yourself – “Yeah!”
It can get you down when you fork out hundreds just to have the water connected to your house, and then have a hosepipe ban imposed when a “drought” is declared. Not that it’s a countrywide water shortage – just the Thames Water region. Yup! That’s the company that has just posted a 31% pre-tax rise in profits to £346.5 million this year; the very same company that loses 894 million litres every day through leaky pipes. But if you use a hose, you’ll cop a walloping fine!
Many of the best live bands I’ve seen in my time here have never made it to Australia, and probably never will. It was so great to see Paul Buchanan of The Blue Nile touring for the first time in ten years (and to chat to him at the Barbican). The shows were something quite extraordinary, as the intimate music of a thousand bedrooms became an intimate concert for a thousand people. Sometimes, it felt almost too personal, like eavesdropping on a confessional – this truly was art without artifice. The highlight was A Walk Across The Rooftops with its blend of strings, drum machine bass and vulnerable yet powerful vocals. Their sound may be ‘80’s, but it doesn’t sound dated at all.
Ken Livingston, the Mayor of London is encouraging us to take up cycling as a major form of transport. But in London it simply isn’t safe - only last weekend, a local man was killed in a head on collision. That wouldn’t be so unusual, except that he was one of around seven hundred cyclists taking part in the fourteenth annual running of The Dunwich Dynamo, from inner London suburb Hackney to Dunwich beach on the Suffolk coast. I used to cycle too, until one day an idiot leaned out a passenger window and pushed me under a (thankfully stationary) bus. But it really ended for me when I lost two friends, killed on their bikes in separate daytime incidents, within the space of six weeks. That’s why my bike is slowly rusting in the back garden.
It doesn’t take much now for an act to get huge in the UK. Hard-Fi managed to sell out a five-night run at London’s largest pub venue, the 4 500 capacity Brixton Academy, with a single album. Editors managed to sell out a three-night stand, and they were playing 800 venues only eight months earlier. But being as popular as this doesn’t necessarily make for an entertaining evening. In fact, after my experiences at Death Cab For Cutie the other week, I think I’m really over seeing BIG shows.
Now I’m quite fond of them on record, but as a live experience, DCFC weren’t much fun. The audience was one of the most annoying I’ve ever experienced; it was like being transported back to a 3XY Under 18’s Concert. The music and playing was so safe and bland - it was the epitome of what used to be known as college radio, or an emo version of Coldplay. The nadir came when a second drum kit was set up for Ben Gibbard – rather than generating excitement, I was reminded of one of those clockwork drumming monkeys. The only saving grace was Chris Walla – whether he was on guitar, keyboards or bass, he really was the star of this act.
So I’m sticking to smaller gigs from now on. It’s great to see bands longs before they hit the radar, and even bigger bands are more enjoyable in a smaller space. It was wonderful seeing The Church playing a tiny basement club (The Borderline) a month ago. Even if sometimes they work too hard to show what rounded and talented musicians they all are, theirs is an easy grace that comes from their years of playing together. Steve Kilbey was having a few voice troubles, but nothing that distracted from gambit of emotions the set went through. From the fun about how they have no market in Manchester leading to a riffing on Joy Division’s She’s Lost Control, to a Providence dedicated to Grant McLennan, and a final moving segue of Invisible into Bye Bye Pride that stayed with me for days. And I’d never seen Steve sing without the comfort of a guitar before either!
As Lily Allen states in LDN, it’s all about perspective: “You might laugh, you might frown, Walkin' round London town…” Indeed! Sometimes it’s all a question of attitude…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 14 June 2006
A Tale Of Two Crosses
London Fields # 27
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 June 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In this part of the world, seasons don’t gradually merge into one another; rather they sudden bang on your door and announce their presence. Summer arrived without warning last week, putting an end to the litany of how it seemed it was never going to arrive. Of course, the moment the mercury crept past twenty-five, this was replaced by moaning about the heat…
To be fair, this is not entirely unjustified. This country is not built for warm weather, and it’s yet to adjust to climate change bringing ever-warmer days. London itself has only a handful of outdoor pools, and a shortage of green spaces combined with unbroken rows of terraced housing and heavy pollution leaves little fresh air to breathe. Many workplaces lack air conditioning, so toiling in temperatures of 30+ is not uncommon. In fact, while standards for the lowest permitted working temperatures have long been established, there is no such equivalent for hot conditions.
And even though winter went on forever this year, it didn’t rain much, so we’re in the middle of a drought. Now maybe that’s not a drought of Australian proportions, but there is a total hosepipe ban in the South East; meaning that you have to keep running back to the kitchen with a watering can to keep your plants alive.
Londoners are not often seen smiling; you don’t say hello to strangers cutting their hedges – all-in-all you keep to yourself. Yet the whole character of the place changes when the sun comes out. Last weekend I was watching a documentary on the 1989 Summer Of Love, which discussed how the introduction of “E” killed off the football firms’ rivalries as the fans danced with each other, their aggression forgotten.
Coincidentally, every second summer means something else as well – a major international football tournament. It’s a chance to forget about the bigger issues, like bird flu, or changes to retirement age, or nuclear power, even if only for a while. Following the Ashes series, the English have learnt that it is possible to win. The feeling is that, after forty years, this could be their time, but only if we all have faith. Even the humble Mars bar has been repackaged as Believe for the cause.
Seeing St George’s flags flying everywhere really is a thing to behold. This emblem has been used in some disturbing ways by far right groups in the immigration debates; seeing it this way acts as a unifier and reclaims it for all English, not just a scary minority. But you gotta laugh through when you see opposition leader David Cameron showing how green he is by cycling to work (sans helmet), proudly flying his St George's Cross from the back rack. Well, it is more than a little undercut by the fact that he’s followed by his ministerial vehicle, which transports his red boxes to and from the House of Commons…
With the twin British loves of music and football, it’s no surprise that the charts are overridden with football songs, but even with thirty-odd in the fray, no-one could have anticipated that eight out of this week’s Top 40 would be World Cup related. And this Monday came another contender – a rework of Sham 69’s 1978 anthem Hurry Up Harry, imaginatively reworked as Hurry Up England, featuring Jimmy Pursey, produced by Steven Street and featuring Graham Coxon on guitar.
Now this is all well and good until you learn about a group of old punks who got together in Romford Essex under the moniker Motty’s Sheepskin to record a new version of the same Sham 69 classic to tie in with the World Cup and to raise money for a local cancer charity. According to HurryUpEngland.co.uk, the project started way back in March, and when it was finished, they approached Jimmy Pursey for his blessing to release it, and got it. Which is why they were so surprised when a short time later, Virgin Radio announced the forthcoming Pursey re-recording. Saddest of all is that Motty’s version is closer to the style and spirit of the original (and it has better lyrics)!
But back to David Cameron - as the first vaguely electable party head the Tories have had in so long, he is a worry. But showed his true colours last week when he claimed that the music of Tim Westwood’s Saturday night BBC Radio 1’s hip-hop and rap show encouraged the carrying of guns and knives. You’ve got to feel a bit sorry for Tim Westwood – the victim of a drive-by shooting, the real-life inspiration of Ali G, the host of Pimp My Ride UK {“Let’s see what we can do with this Morris Minor”} and now the target of David Cameron.
The same David Cameron who says he’s fan of The “smash every tooth in your head” Smiths, Radiohead and Pulp. Umm, didn’t the cover of You Are The Quarry feature Morrissey dressed as a gangster with a submachine gun? What on earth does he make of Goldie Lookin’ Chain’s Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do? I can’t help but recall one of last year’s comedy treasures, The Thick Of It, where the minister was being pushed to watch his weekly Zeitgeist Tapes so that he could seem to have a clue of what was happening in the lives of Joe Bloggs. Cameron? Yeah - he’s down with it - Fo’ shizzle!
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 June 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
In this part of the world, seasons don’t gradually merge into one another; rather they sudden bang on your door and announce their presence. Summer arrived without warning last week, putting an end to the litany of how it seemed it was never going to arrive. Of course, the moment the mercury crept past twenty-five, this was replaced by moaning about the heat…
To be fair, this is not entirely unjustified. This country is not built for warm weather, and it’s yet to adjust to climate change bringing ever-warmer days. London itself has only a handful of outdoor pools, and a shortage of green spaces combined with unbroken rows of terraced housing and heavy pollution leaves little fresh air to breathe. Many workplaces lack air conditioning, so toiling in temperatures of 30+ is not uncommon. In fact, while standards for the lowest permitted working temperatures have long been established, there is no such equivalent for hot conditions.
And even though winter went on forever this year, it didn’t rain much, so we’re in the middle of a drought. Now maybe that’s not a drought of Australian proportions, but there is a total hosepipe ban in the South East; meaning that you have to keep running back to the kitchen with a watering can to keep your plants alive.
Londoners are not often seen smiling; you don’t say hello to strangers cutting their hedges – all-in-all you keep to yourself. Yet the whole character of the place changes when the sun comes out. Last weekend I was watching a documentary on the 1989 Summer Of Love, which discussed how the introduction of “E” killed off the football firms’ rivalries as the fans danced with each other, their aggression forgotten.
Coincidentally, every second summer means something else as well – a major international football tournament. It’s a chance to forget about the bigger issues, like bird flu, or changes to retirement age, or nuclear power, even if only for a while. Following the Ashes series, the English have learnt that it is possible to win. The feeling is that, after forty years, this could be their time, but only if we all have faith. Even the humble Mars bar has been repackaged as Believe for the cause.
Seeing St George’s flags flying everywhere really is a thing to behold. This emblem has been used in some disturbing ways by far right groups in the immigration debates; seeing it this way acts as a unifier and reclaims it for all English, not just a scary minority. But you gotta laugh through when you see opposition leader David Cameron showing how green he is by cycling to work (sans helmet), proudly flying his St George's Cross from the back rack. Well, it is more than a little undercut by the fact that he’s followed by his ministerial vehicle, which transports his red boxes to and from the House of Commons…
With the twin British loves of music and football, it’s no surprise that the charts are overridden with football songs, but even with thirty-odd in the fray, no-one could have anticipated that eight out of this week’s Top 40 would be World Cup related. And this Monday came another contender – a rework of Sham 69’s 1978 anthem Hurry Up Harry, imaginatively reworked as Hurry Up England, featuring Jimmy Pursey, produced by Steven Street and featuring Graham Coxon on guitar.
Now this is all well and good until you learn about a group of old punks who got together in Romford Essex under the moniker Motty’s Sheepskin to record a new version of the same Sham 69 classic to tie in with the World Cup and to raise money for a local cancer charity. According to HurryUpEngland.co.uk, the project started way back in March, and when it was finished, they approached Jimmy Pursey for his blessing to release it, and got it. Which is why they were so surprised when a short time later, Virgin Radio announced the forthcoming Pursey re-recording. Saddest of all is that Motty’s version is closer to the style and spirit of the original (and it has better lyrics)!
But back to David Cameron - as the first vaguely electable party head the Tories have had in so long, he is a worry. But showed his true colours last week when he claimed that the music of Tim Westwood’s Saturday night BBC Radio 1’s hip-hop and rap show encouraged the carrying of guns and knives. You’ve got to feel a bit sorry for Tim Westwood – the victim of a drive-by shooting, the real-life inspiration of Ali G, the host of Pimp My Ride UK {“Let’s see what we can do with this Morris Minor”} and now the target of David Cameron.
The same David Cameron who says he’s fan of The “smash every tooth in your head” Smiths, Radiohead and Pulp. Umm, didn’t the cover of You Are The Quarry feature Morrissey dressed as a gangster with a submachine gun? What on earth does he make of Goldie Lookin’ Chain’s Guns Don’t Kill People, Rappers Do? I can’t help but recall one of last year’s comedy treasures, The Thick Of It, where the minister was being pushed to watch his weekly Zeitgeist Tapes so that he could seem to have a clue of what was happening in the lives of Joe Bloggs. Cameron? Yeah - he’s down with it - Fo’ shizzle!
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 17 May 2006
Happy Slapping Hoodies
London Fields # 26
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 17 May 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Picture the scene: a quiet suburban street. Three ne’er-do-wells are up to something. Their backs are turned to you, but you know they have evil intents or will be planning acts of mischief. How? Why of course, they’re all wearing hoodies!
Another image – the same street. Don’t you feel better, now that there’s two police officers (and a Community Support Officer) walking towards you? Ridiculous? Yes, but it was with these two contrasting images that Labour campaigned in the elections the other week. It wasn’t the big election - that was held just under a year previously. This was the local elections for around half the councils in the UK.
But this was a disturbing trend. Up till now, you would have thought that the great threat in local politics was the growing prominence of the racist ‘little England’ views of the British National Party (BNP). I didn’t expect this kind of fearmongering being employed by the Labour Party, especially as it bordered on racism - this mode of dress is particularly favoured by black and Asian youth. I saw my local member leafleting the following day and called him to task on it. He said that he wasn’t pleased about it, but it was the decision of the London branch, and that he had no say in the matter. That filled me with confidence!
Two days later I went to see old lefty stalwart Billy Bragg play small homecoming gig in his old patch of Barking, Essex on the Hope Not Hate Tour. This was specifically designed to hit the areas where the BNP were gaining a following, and try to arrest their progress. It was a great show; Billy was in fine form. He was accompanied by Small Faces legend Ian McLagan on keyboards and they played for two hours. There were some old numbers, great stories (including his politicisation at the Anti Nazi League concert by The Clash), and of course a just a little bit of politics. Bragg felt that the swing towards the BNP was one of disillusionment. Even after nine years, this Labour government has failed to deliver what the people would expect from it, namely good health care, education, decent housing and fair pensions. The end of March saw the biggest strike in the UK since the General Strike of 1926 as 1.5 million council workers went on strike over proposed changes to their pension. Sadly the people of Barking and Dagenham (or at least the 38.3% who bothered to vote) voted 11 BNP candidates to that safe Labour seat. The good news is that they only won 27 seats all together across 176 councils, making 32 seats in all.
I suppose fear is a tool often used in electioneering, but I hadn’t realised that the fears of runaway youth ran so deep. Leaflets through my door promised that, if elected, ‘X’ would issue even more Anti-Social Behaviour Orders [ASBOs] locally. A year ago, the UK’s largest shopping centre Bluewater banned shoppers wearing the near ubiquitous hoodies, or baseball caps! Last month, 35 pubs in Warrington (near Manchester) banned the wearing of hoodies, baseball caps or tracksuits after 8pm on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. If you wear them, you won’t get in, let alone served. In Newport in Wales, ASBOs have been issued which prohibit two brothers from wearing hoodies at all! No wonder grime superstar Lady Sovereign released Save The Hoodie – it even got its own website.
Not to be outdone, John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York, wore one to get down with the kids at Bradford Grammar School last week. It’s as much a part of modern culture as the Chav. In a recent episode of Doctor Who set in a contemporary school, the Doctor, acting as a substitute teacher, showed how ‘with it’ he was by ranting, “Happy slapping hoodies - with ASBOs”.
These are indeed worrying times. New-fangled Tory leader David Cameron has claimed that The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead is his favourite album. As Billy Bragg noted in Barking – this is such a contentious choice, it must be genuine. One wonders if he once danced round the bedroom singing “When will you die?” from the anti-Thatcher tirade Margaret On The Guillotine with his eye on her job? After all, that was their working title for that album. With all this, is it any surprise that comic creation Alan B’Stard is back? Sadly only on stage, but Rik Mayall’s satiric Tory is returning – only now he’s a new Labour man, as it fits his ideas nicely. Stranger than fiction is talk of introducing lessons in “core British values” in the light of the 7/7 bombings, to try drum a patriotic message home across cultures through the school syllabus.
Is there a greater discontent brewing? I was shocked to see an airport-style metal scanner set up at the local train station the other week. A new anti-terrorism campaign perhaps? Nope – it was an anti-knife initiative. I tell ya, it’s gonna get real ugly, real soon…
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 17 May 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
Picture the scene: a quiet suburban street. Three ne’er-do-wells are up to something. Their backs are turned to you, but you know they have evil intents or will be planning acts of mischief. How? Why of course, they’re all wearing hoodies!
Another image – the same street. Don’t you feel better, now that there’s two police officers (and a Community Support Officer) walking towards you? Ridiculous? Yes, but it was with these two contrasting images that Labour campaigned in the elections the other week. It wasn’t the big election - that was held just under a year previously. This was the local elections for around half the councils in the UK.
But this was a disturbing trend. Up till now, you would have thought that the great threat in local politics was the growing prominence of the racist ‘little England’ views of the British National Party (BNP). I didn’t expect this kind of fearmongering being employed by the Labour Party, especially as it bordered on racism - this mode of dress is particularly favoured by black and Asian youth. I saw my local member leafleting the following day and called him to task on it. He said that he wasn’t pleased about it, but it was the decision of the London branch, and that he had no say in the matter. That filled me with confidence!
Two days later I went to see old lefty stalwart Billy Bragg play small homecoming gig in his old patch of Barking, Essex on the Hope Not Hate Tour. This was specifically designed to hit the areas where the BNP were gaining a following, and try to arrest their progress. It was a great show; Billy was in fine form. He was accompanied by Small Faces legend Ian McLagan on keyboards and they played for two hours. There were some old numbers, great stories (including his politicisation at the Anti Nazi League concert by The Clash), and of course a just a little bit of politics. Bragg felt that the swing towards the BNP was one of disillusionment. Even after nine years, this Labour government has failed to deliver what the people would expect from it, namely good health care, education, decent housing and fair pensions. The end of March saw the biggest strike in the UK since the General Strike of 1926 as 1.5 million council workers went on strike over proposed changes to their pension. Sadly the people of Barking and Dagenham (or at least the 38.3% who bothered to vote) voted 11 BNP candidates to that safe Labour seat. The good news is that they only won 27 seats all together across 176 councils, making 32 seats in all.
I suppose fear is a tool often used in electioneering, but I hadn’t realised that the fears of runaway youth ran so deep. Leaflets through my door promised that, if elected, ‘X’ would issue even more Anti-Social Behaviour Orders [ASBOs] locally. A year ago, the UK’s largest shopping centre Bluewater banned shoppers wearing the near ubiquitous hoodies, or baseball caps! Last month, 35 pubs in Warrington (near Manchester) banned the wearing of hoodies, baseball caps or tracksuits after 8pm on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. If you wear them, you won’t get in, let alone served. In Newport in Wales, ASBOs have been issued which prohibit two brothers from wearing hoodies at all! No wonder grime superstar Lady Sovereign released Save The Hoodie – it even got its own website.
Not to be outdone, John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York, wore one to get down with the kids at Bradford Grammar School last week. It’s as much a part of modern culture as the Chav. In a recent episode of Doctor Who set in a contemporary school, the Doctor, acting as a substitute teacher, showed how ‘with it’ he was by ranting, “Happy slapping hoodies - with ASBOs”.
These are indeed worrying times. New-fangled Tory leader David Cameron has claimed that The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead is his favourite album. As Billy Bragg noted in Barking – this is such a contentious choice, it must be genuine. One wonders if he once danced round the bedroom singing “When will you die?” from the anti-Thatcher tirade Margaret On The Guillotine with his eye on her job? After all, that was their working title for that album. With all this, is it any surprise that comic creation Alan B’Stard is back? Sadly only on stage, but Rik Mayall’s satiric Tory is returning – only now he’s a new Labour man, as it fits his ideas nicely. Stranger than fiction is talk of introducing lessons in “core British values” in the light of the 7/7 bombings, to try drum a patriotic message home across cultures through the school syllabus.
Is there a greater discontent brewing? I was shocked to see an airport-style metal scanner set up at the local train station the other week. A new anti-terrorism campaign perhaps? Nope – it was an anti-knife initiative. I tell ya, it’s gonna get real ugly, real soon…
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 19 April 2006
Setting The Scene
London Fields # 25
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 19 April 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 19 April 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
How do you get to hear new music? Is it by listening to the radio, or reading online articles, forums and blogs? Perhaps through a friend’s recommendation, or else by following up an article elsewhere in this paper? Or maybe you just stumble across them by accident?
If I see one more time that a new British act is only successful because of NME hype, I think I’ll scream. Now I’ve made my feelings on the current incarnation of NME clear in the past, so I’ll try not to repeat myself too much here, but such labelling is disingenuous to say the least, as well as short-sighted, inaccurate and usually wrong.
One of the mainstays of British television [or cheap ways to fill a schedule] is the ‘list’ programme. Masquerading as a talking-head style documentary, these shows reminisce in a misty-eyed fashion over a past aspect of popular culture. This may be a period (e.g. I Love 1973), or an artificial construct (e.g. The 50 Greatest One Hit Wonders – this one actually is in production now – you can vote at Channel4.com). Anyway, one of these featured some music journos from the early 90’s boasting how they would create "scenes". The particular example cited was the Camden Lurch, a few bands thrown together and sold as a scene, even though none existed. So, they used to write about these in Melody Maker or NME, and make bets over whether they could get away with it. Funnily enough, one of the leading lights of this non-existent scene, Th’ Faith Healers, have recently got back together, and are playing London later this week, having warmed up with a mini US tour and SxSW appearance.
But NME is no longer cutting edge, or a style-maker; gone are they days where entire movements could be willed into being in their offices, and then sold worldwide. In the UK today, there is a raft of more powerful sources shaping the future music scene than the inkies of old. But the real reason for all this conjecture is this – what do you do if you come across a new band who are genuinely impressive? How can you heap praise upon them without being accused of creating hype? Or be guilty of building a bandwagon for others to jump upon?
The other week I went along to see what Mark Gardener (ex-singer of Ride) was up to nowadays. It looked like a good bill - the support act for the evening was Televise, a group formed by ex-Slowdive member Simon Scott. What I didn’t expect was for the first band of the evening to capture me so completely. Now there’s something a little special about the crowd that goes to Club AC30 events. They’re not snobbish, elitist or overly judgmental; they just wanna hear good music. Yet even so, the way they warmed to the opening act Model Morning was astounding.
Put simply, Model Morning is one of the most accomplished and exciting new acts I’ve seen in a long while. While watching them, I recalled the famous story of U2’s first London gig – playing to a mere 17 people at Islington’s Anchor and Hope. Now I’m not going to compare the two, but Model Morning play big, emotional music, and I think that they won’t be playing small gigs like this for too long.
So, how to describe them? Well, there’s a lot of ‘80’s sound in there, mixed in with early ‘90’s shoegaze. There are the echo-y guitar effects of A Flock Of Seagulls, the strong backbone of bass lines in the style of Simon Gallup of The Cure, and a little of the vocal style of Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis in the stylings of singer Peter Morley. Yet they are like none of these. I suppose they sound a little like how The Departure may have if that band had got it right.
Yet the band’s presence and assurance calls to mind The Strokes. Their arrangements seem surprisingly simple, but complexity and thought lie beneath the surface. The five members work so well together musically, complimenting each other and opening spaces for the songs to soar, or explode. The only thing holding them back at the moment is some awkward stagecraft. Afterwards I found out that this was only their second gig - it seems that they locked themselves away for a year rehearsing and honing the songs before playing live, so this will surely change.
So maybe it was just me who felt this way about them? Well, when the band came on stage, the dancefloor in front of the stage was virtually empty. People on it were standing as far back as they could, creating a great gulf between band and audience. As the set continued, people moved in closer, the applause after each song was more and more generous. By the end there were whoops and cheers, and undivided attention. Truly extraordinary.
If you search online, you won’t find much more about them than their MySpace site. But later this week they’ll be headlining Alan McGee’s Death Disco night, and Club AC30 will be releasing a six-track mini-album in the summer. They won’t be unknown for long. Remember you read about them here first.
© James McGalliard 2006
If I see one more time that a new British act is only successful because of NME hype, I think I’ll scream. Now I’ve made my feelings on the current incarnation of NME clear in the past, so I’ll try not to repeat myself too much here, but such labelling is disingenuous to say the least, as well as short-sighted, inaccurate and usually wrong.
One of the mainstays of British television [or cheap ways to fill a schedule] is the ‘list’ programme. Masquerading as a talking-head style documentary, these shows reminisce in a misty-eyed fashion over a past aspect of popular culture. This may be a period (e.g. I Love 1973), or an artificial construct (e.g. The 50 Greatest One Hit Wonders – this one actually is in production now – you can vote at Channel4.com). Anyway, one of these featured some music journos from the early 90’s boasting how they would create "scenes". The particular example cited was the Camden Lurch, a few bands thrown together and sold as a scene, even though none existed. So, they used to write about these in Melody Maker or NME, and make bets over whether they could get away with it. Funnily enough, one of the leading lights of this non-existent scene, Th’ Faith Healers, have recently got back together, and are playing London later this week, having warmed up with a mini US tour and SxSW appearance.
But NME is no longer cutting edge, or a style-maker; gone are they days where entire movements could be willed into being in their offices, and then sold worldwide. In the UK today, there is a raft of more powerful sources shaping the future music scene than the inkies of old. But the real reason for all this conjecture is this – what do you do if you come across a new band who are genuinely impressive? How can you heap praise upon them without being accused of creating hype? Or be guilty of building a bandwagon for others to jump upon?
The other week I went along to see what Mark Gardener (ex-singer of Ride) was up to nowadays. It looked like a good bill - the support act for the evening was Televise, a group formed by ex-Slowdive member Simon Scott. What I didn’t expect was for the first band of the evening to capture me so completely. Now there’s something a little special about the crowd that goes to Club AC30 events. They’re not snobbish, elitist or overly judgmental; they just wanna hear good music. Yet even so, the way they warmed to the opening act Model Morning was astounding.
Put simply, Model Morning is one of the most accomplished and exciting new acts I’ve seen in a long while. While watching them, I recalled the famous story of U2’s first London gig – playing to a mere 17 people at Islington’s Anchor and Hope. Now I’m not going to compare the two, but Model Morning play big, emotional music, and I think that they won’t be playing small gigs like this for too long.
So, how to describe them? Well, there’s a lot of ‘80’s sound in there, mixed in with early ‘90’s shoegaze. There are the echo-y guitar effects of A Flock Of Seagulls, the strong backbone of bass lines in the style of Simon Gallup of The Cure, and a little of the vocal style of Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis in the stylings of singer Peter Morley. Yet they are like none of these. I suppose they sound a little like how The Departure may have if that band had got it right.
Yet the band’s presence and assurance calls to mind The Strokes. Their arrangements seem surprisingly simple, but complexity and thought lie beneath the surface. The five members work so well together musically, complimenting each other and opening spaces for the songs to soar, or explode. The only thing holding them back at the moment is some awkward stagecraft. Afterwards I found out that this was only their second gig - it seems that they locked themselves away for a year rehearsing and honing the songs before playing live, so this will surely change.
So maybe it was just me who felt this way about them? Well, when the band came on stage, the dancefloor in front of the stage was virtually empty. People on it were standing as far back as they could, creating a great gulf between band and audience. As the set continued, people moved in closer, the applause after each song was more and more generous. By the end there were whoops and cheers, and undivided attention. Truly extraordinary.
If you search online, you won’t find much more about them than their MySpace site. But later this week they’ll be headlining Alan McGee’s Death Disco night, and Club AC30 will be releasing a six-track mini-album in the summer. They won’t be unknown for long. Remember you read about them here first.
© James McGalliard 2006
Wednesday, 22 March 2006
Mind Your Language
London Fields # 24
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 March 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
When you spend some time away from a place, you see it with different eyes on your return. There are so many similarities between Melbourne and London that it can be easy to get a little confused. Particularly when it’s a mere twenty-three hour blur between the two. Hitting the equinox, it may now be light at 5pm here, but that’s when the temperature plummets. With snow expected for Easter, it seems as though spring is still some way off.
No, you know you’re in London because it’s squirrels in the garden and not possums, the sky is low-hanging and slate grey, and housing comes in unbroken rows of terraces. If a stranger speaks to you it’s probably because they want something; it can all seem unfriendly and threatening. But there are compensations – British newspapers, digital broadcasting and a great live music scene.
It may seem strange, but asides from climate, the biggest barrier between the two cities is probably language, which can cause all manner of strife. It’s easy to get into a mess, as the promoters of Australian tourism recently discovered. For all the fuss in the Australian media about the "Where the bloody hell are you?" campaign, so far it hasn’t really made its presence known much at all. A friend saw a press ad [without the bloody], but that’s about it. I suppose anything’s an improvement over "I can see a rainbow" though.
But it’s all a matter of what you may consider to be offensive. London’s Evening Standard has devoted a fair bit of coverage to its ongoing feud with London Mayor Ken Livingstone. When a persistent reporter door-stepped Ken after a private function, Livingstone lost his composure and compared the reporter to a concentration camp guard. A year of legal wrangling, and non-apologies, led to a four-week suspension from his post [currently frozen pending judicial review]. So, it’s all about use of language that may be deemed offensive, right? Yet in the issue of the Standard that carried pages of coverage relating to the initial suspension, was a column by AN Wilson on Australia and the Republican movement, in which the author saw fit to use the term "Abo" as an appropriate description of indigenous Australians. Despite letters to the paper, complaining about the use of the term, and some coverage in TNT Magazine, no apology was forthcoming from the paper or author.
It is strange watching Melbourne through a British lens. If you only saw the news, you’d think that it was only the countries in the UK who’d won medals at the Games. Thank god for digital broadcasting. The UK has latched onto this faster than any other country in the world. Over ten million Freeview boxes have been sold, which allow reception of free-to-air digital broadcasting. Add this to those with satellite and cable services, and over two-thirds of UK homes have now gone digital. Just as well as analogue transmission is planned to end in 2012 [just in time for the London Olympic Games]. With ten million homes on broadband internet, and 2.7 million DAB radios sold, and you have the dawn of a new digital age. With the Games, it means that you have a choice of watching five different events through the one channel via interactive broadcasting. Sadly that’s five events in which the Brits are favoured, but you can’t have it all.
Although I love the BBC, and only begrudge a little the £126.50 annual TV licence fee, which pays for all the BBC’s TV, radio and web services, they don’t always get it right. Of course, via interactive TV, I could have watched the Opening Ceremony of the Games without commentary, but then I would have missed their embarrassing gaffs. My favourite was when the commentator had no idea who Ron Barassi was, so mistakenly proceeded to spend a few minutes discussing Herb Elliott, as Barassi walked on water. It was only when the baton was passed to Elliott that they realised their error and apologised. And the whole duck thing may have made a little sense if they’d bothered to explain the Leunig connection. When it came to the highlights repeated that evening, the whole section from the tram landing to the Queen’s arrival bit the dust, as did the performance by The Church. Weirdly The Cat Empire stayed in…
Speaking of language barriers, how did they match countries with their relevant giant fish on the Yarra? Whilst pike(r) is a quitter in Oz, pike(y) is an extremely offensive term for a particular class and type of thief. Did the organisers of the games think about this? – I wonder if there was some big joke in giving Northern Ireland a pike, and England a roach?
But amidst all the ‘Bloody’ fuss, you may have missed this gem. Lastminute.com had their wrist slapped by the Advertising Standing Authority for an e-mail campaign for children’s theatre tickets entitled Doing It For The Kids. What did they do that was so wrong? This was in the text of the ad: "Like Gary Glitter in a sweet shop, you too can have your pick of kiddy treats in London’s theatre world". Eh Gadd! [Paul Gadd, eh?] Now that’s the way to get your bloody message across!
© James McGalliard 2006
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 March 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
When you spend some time away from a place, you see it with different eyes on your return. There are so many similarities between Melbourne and London that it can be easy to get a little confused. Particularly when it’s a mere twenty-three hour blur between the two. Hitting the equinox, it may now be light at 5pm here, but that’s when the temperature plummets. With snow expected for Easter, it seems as though spring is still some way off.
No, you know you’re in London because it’s squirrels in the garden and not possums, the sky is low-hanging and slate grey, and housing comes in unbroken rows of terraces. If a stranger speaks to you it’s probably because they want something; it can all seem unfriendly and threatening. But there are compensations – British newspapers, digital broadcasting and a great live music scene.
It may seem strange, but asides from climate, the biggest barrier between the two cities is probably language, which can cause all manner of strife. It’s easy to get into a mess, as the promoters of Australian tourism recently discovered. For all the fuss in the Australian media about the "Where the bloody hell are you?" campaign, so far it hasn’t really made its presence known much at all. A friend saw a press ad [without the bloody], but that’s about it. I suppose anything’s an improvement over "I can see a rainbow" though.
But it’s all a matter of what you may consider to be offensive. London’s Evening Standard has devoted a fair bit of coverage to its ongoing feud with London Mayor Ken Livingstone. When a persistent reporter door-stepped Ken after a private function, Livingstone lost his composure and compared the reporter to a concentration camp guard. A year of legal wrangling, and non-apologies, led to a four-week suspension from his post [currently frozen pending judicial review]. So, it’s all about use of language that may be deemed offensive, right? Yet in the issue of the Standard that carried pages of coverage relating to the initial suspension, was a column by AN Wilson on Australia and the Republican movement, in which the author saw fit to use the term "Abo" as an appropriate description of indigenous Australians. Despite letters to the paper, complaining about the use of the term, and some coverage in TNT Magazine, no apology was forthcoming from the paper or author.
It is strange watching Melbourne through a British lens. If you only saw the news, you’d think that it was only the countries in the UK who’d won medals at the Games. Thank god for digital broadcasting. The UK has latched onto this faster than any other country in the world. Over ten million Freeview boxes have been sold, which allow reception of free-to-air digital broadcasting. Add this to those with satellite and cable services, and over two-thirds of UK homes have now gone digital. Just as well as analogue transmission is planned to end in 2012 [just in time for the London Olympic Games]. With ten million homes on broadband internet, and 2.7 million DAB radios sold, and you have the dawn of a new digital age. With the Games, it means that you have a choice of watching five different events through the one channel via interactive broadcasting. Sadly that’s five events in which the Brits are favoured, but you can’t have it all.
Although I love the BBC, and only begrudge a little the £126.50 annual TV licence fee, which pays for all the BBC’s TV, radio and web services, they don’t always get it right. Of course, via interactive TV, I could have watched the Opening Ceremony of the Games without commentary, but then I would have missed their embarrassing gaffs. My favourite was when the commentator had no idea who Ron Barassi was, so mistakenly proceeded to spend a few minutes discussing Herb Elliott, as Barassi walked on water. It was only when the baton was passed to Elliott that they realised their error and apologised. And the whole duck thing may have made a little sense if they’d bothered to explain the Leunig connection. When it came to the highlights repeated that evening, the whole section from the tram landing to the Queen’s arrival bit the dust, as did the performance by The Church. Weirdly The Cat Empire stayed in…
Speaking of language barriers, how did they match countries with their relevant giant fish on the Yarra? Whilst pike(r) is a quitter in Oz, pike(y) is an extremely offensive term for a particular class and type of thief. Did the organisers of the games think about this? – I wonder if there was some big joke in giving Northern Ireland a pike, and England a roach?
But amidst all the ‘Bloody’ fuss, you may have missed this gem. Lastminute.com had their wrist slapped by the Advertising Standing Authority for an e-mail campaign for children’s theatre tickets entitled Doing It For The Kids. What did they do that was so wrong? This was in the text of the ad: "Like Gary Glitter in a sweet shop, you too can have your pick of kiddy treats in London’s theatre world". Eh Gadd! [Paul Gadd, eh?] Now that’s the way to get your bloody message across!
© James McGalliard 2006
Wednesday, 22 February 2006
Who Will Buy?
London Fields # 23
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 February 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
February in the UK is a time of short days, grey skies and bitter cold. When there’s little incentive to go outside, what better time to reflect on what’s been worthwhile on television recently.
Whilst I’m enjoying US imports Bones, Monk and Battlestar Galactica, by far the best thing on at the moment is the BBC’s Life On Mars. Taking its title from the David Bowie song, it’s the tale of Manchester DI Sam Tyler (John Simm), who is knocked down by a car in 2006, and wakes up in 1973. With echoes of Vanilla Sky, it plays on a dilemma - did Sam travel back in time, or is everything happening some coma-induced fantasy? Made by Kudos [Spooks], the series looks great, has a killer soundtrack, and features witty, erudite scripts, and well-judged performances from a strong ensemble cast. Basically, it’s a hell of a lot of fun! The concept plays with the whole Euston Films [The Sweeney] genre, but with a sense of post-modern humour and irony, pitting Sam’s modern police methods against the hard-drinking back-to-basics approach of 70’s DCI Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister). A second season has just been announced; let’s hope they don’t blow it. Maybe it’s no surprise that one of the three writer/creators has penned a story for the new season of Doctor Who. On the basis of Life On Mars, it’s looking good for the new Tennant in the Tardis.
Amongst all the reality bile, there have been not one but two separate documentaries recently chronicling the death of the British sitcom. One featured writer Carla Lane [The Liver Birds, Bread, Butterflies] bemoaning the end of her era, citing "unfunny" things such as The Young Ones as the cause of her demise. I certainly laughed more when media satirist Chris Morris had this same writer making a desperate appeal for the elephant who had its trunk stuck up its arse in the groundbreaking brassEye, than I ever did at her affected slices of life.
Last year, Morris returned to television with Nathan Barley, a collaboration with columnist Charlie Brooker (TVGoHome), which attempted to capture the scenster culture of the Hoxton Twat, but maybe a few years too late. Starring Julian [Boosh] Barratt as Dan Ashcroft, the features writer of Shoreditch zeitgeist mag Sugarape, it also featured Nicholas Burns as the trendsetter/follower of the title, Richard Ayoade [Garth Marenghi] and Nina Sosanya [Teachers]. While Morris co-wrote and directed the series, he never appeared in front of the camera.
But he does in The IT Crowd, the new sitcom from Graham Linehan [Father Ted, Black Books] in which he appears as the head of a large corporation, seemingly part homage to C J from The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin. The humour here is quite broad, depicting the basement dwelling IT HelpDesk, and it is truly a traditional sitcom, shot on video, on brightly-lit sets and taped in front of a studio audience.
Kevin Cecil and Andy Riley, who wrote the third series of Black Books, have come up with a sci-fi comedy Hyperdrive, which depicts the crew of the HMS Camden Lock, as they try to sell Britain to the Universe in 2151. Once again a great ensemble cast - Nick Frost (Spaced), Miranda Hart, stand-up Dan Antopolski and Paterson Joseph, while Kevin Eldon (Nighty Night, Big Train) shines as the unhinged security officer - creates a good feel even if the show itself doesn’t reach great comic heights.
Taking interior dialogue to its ultimate expression, Peep Show follows the lives of flatmates Mark and Jeremy, played by Robert Webb and David Mitchell. Not only do we hear everything they think, the show is also shot from their point of view. In 2004, this original, inventive and cripplingly funny show won the prestigious Golden Rose of Montreux for best sitcom. Usually shows begin to falter after a while, but writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain have kept up the high standards throughout three series; sadly poor ratings may spell the end of production. There’s some comfort as David Mitchell and Robert Webb have just shot a TV pilot for a new sketch show for BBC Two, adapted from their Radio 4 series That Mitchell and Webb Sound.
Jesse Armstrong also co-created The Thick Of It with Armando Iannucci [brassEye, Alan Partridge], and the show beat both Extras and Help to win Best New TV Comedy of 2005 at the British Comedy Awards. Whereas Yes, Minister painted a cosy world of the same bureaucrats running the country, regardless of which party was in power, the spin of new Labour has begotten a comedy with teeth which paints a much bleaker vision. Often seeming more like a documentary, it shows policies made ‘on the hoof’ and spin doctors who create news and sack ministers as they feel appropriate. Chris Langham may have beaten Ricky Gervais and the Little Britain team to win BCA’s Best Television Comedy Actor for his performance as minister Hugh Abbot, but the shining jewel is a bravura performance by Peter Capaldi as Scottish enforcer Malcolm Tucker. Maggie Thatcher claimed Yes, Minister was her favourite programme; I bet The Thick Of It scares the pants of her!
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 February 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
February in the UK is a time of short days, grey skies and bitter cold. When there’s little incentive to go outside, what better time to reflect on what’s been worthwhile on television recently.
Whilst I’m enjoying US imports Bones, Monk and Battlestar Galactica, by far the best thing on at the moment is the BBC’s Life On Mars. Taking its title from the David Bowie song, it’s the tale of Manchester DI Sam Tyler (John Simm), who is knocked down by a car in 2006, and wakes up in 1973. With echoes of Vanilla Sky, it plays on a dilemma - did Sam travel back in time, or is everything happening some coma-induced fantasy? Made by Kudos [Spooks], the series looks great, has a killer soundtrack, and features witty, erudite scripts, and well-judged performances from a strong ensemble cast. Basically, it’s a hell of a lot of fun! The concept plays with the whole Euston Films [The Sweeney] genre, but with a sense of post-modern humour and irony, pitting Sam’s modern police methods against the hard-drinking back-to-basics approach of 70’s DCI Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister). A second season has just been announced; let’s hope they don’t blow it. Maybe it’s no surprise that one of the three writer/creators has penned a story for the new season of Doctor Who. On the basis of Life On Mars, it’s looking good for the new Tennant in the Tardis.
Amongst all the reality bile, there have been not one but two separate documentaries recently chronicling the death of the British sitcom. One featured writer Carla Lane [The Liver Birds, Bread, Butterflies] bemoaning the end of her era, citing "unfunny" things such as The Young Ones as the cause of her demise. I certainly laughed more when media satirist Chris Morris had this same writer making a desperate appeal for the elephant who had its trunk stuck up its arse in the groundbreaking brassEye, than I ever did at her affected slices of life.
Last year, Morris returned to television with Nathan Barley, a collaboration with columnist Charlie Brooker (TVGoHome), which attempted to capture the scenster culture of the Hoxton Twat, but maybe a few years too late. Starring Julian [Boosh] Barratt as Dan Ashcroft, the features writer of Shoreditch zeitgeist mag Sugarape, it also featured Nicholas Burns as the trendsetter/follower of the title, Richard Ayoade [Garth Marenghi] and Nina Sosanya [Teachers]. While Morris co-wrote and directed the series, he never appeared in front of the camera.
But he does in The IT Crowd, the new sitcom from Graham Linehan [Father Ted, Black Books] in which he appears as the head of a large corporation, seemingly part homage to C J from The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin. The humour here is quite broad, depicting the basement dwelling IT HelpDesk, and it is truly a traditional sitcom, shot on video, on brightly-lit sets and taped in front of a studio audience.
Kevin Cecil and Andy Riley, who wrote the third series of Black Books, have come up with a sci-fi comedy Hyperdrive, which depicts the crew of the HMS Camden Lock, as they try to sell Britain to the Universe in 2151. Once again a great ensemble cast - Nick Frost (Spaced), Miranda Hart, stand-up Dan Antopolski and Paterson Joseph, while Kevin Eldon (Nighty Night, Big Train) shines as the unhinged security officer - creates a good feel even if the show itself doesn’t reach great comic heights.
Taking interior dialogue to its ultimate expression, Peep Show follows the lives of flatmates Mark and Jeremy, played by Robert Webb and David Mitchell. Not only do we hear everything they think, the show is also shot from their point of view. In 2004, this original, inventive and cripplingly funny show won the prestigious Golden Rose of Montreux for best sitcom. Usually shows begin to falter after a while, but writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain have kept up the high standards throughout three series; sadly poor ratings may spell the end of production. There’s some comfort as David Mitchell and Robert Webb have just shot a TV pilot for a new sketch show for BBC Two, adapted from their Radio 4 series That Mitchell and Webb Sound.
Jesse Armstrong also co-created The Thick Of It with Armando Iannucci [brassEye, Alan Partridge], and the show beat both Extras and Help to win Best New TV Comedy of 2005 at the British Comedy Awards. Whereas Yes, Minister painted a cosy world of the same bureaucrats running the country, regardless of which party was in power, the spin of new Labour has begotten a comedy with teeth which paints a much bleaker vision. Often seeming more like a documentary, it shows policies made ‘on the hoof’ and spin doctors who create news and sack ministers as they feel appropriate. Chris Langham may have beaten Ricky Gervais and the Little Britain team to win BCA’s Best Television Comedy Actor for his performance as minister Hugh Abbot, but the shining jewel is a bravura performance by Peter Capaldi as Scottish enforcer Malcolm Tucker. Maggie Thatcher claimed Yes, Minister was her favourite programme; I bet The Thick Of It scares the pants of her!
© James McGalliard 2006
Sunday, 22 January 2006
Could Give a Monkeys
London Fields # 22
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 January 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
"If 2005 was the year of the wolf, what will 2006 be?" asked the Inpress Annual Writers’ Poll last month. From where I sit, it will definitely be the Year of the Monkey! Or, to be more precise, Arctic Monkeys…
When The Sun Goes Down has rocketed straight to the top of the UK singles chart, and their debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not is on its way to becoming the fastest ever selling indie album in UK recording history (the current holder is Oasis with Definitely Maybe). What makes this so important is that it runs contrary to everything that the music industry has been telling us for years. The repeated mantra of "Home Taping Is Killing Music" may have been rewritten to include downloading, but the basic message remains. Yet Arctic Monkeys took the opposite route. They achieved this fantastic position by making their demo material readily and freely available; it allowed them to build up a worldwide following before they had even been signed. And now they’re going to break sales records when the album itself was leaked weeks ago!
Various A&R people are reported to be frantically searching for the next Arctic Monkeys, and Sheffield in particular is under siege. Good luck to ‘em! But you have to feel a little sorry for bands like Bromhead’s Jacket (described by Sheffield’s Sandman as "a cross between The Jam and the bastard northern brother of Blur") and The Harrisons, both whom are going to overcome the stigma of being described as the next AM.
A recurrent theme of the past 18 months has been record companies continuing to re-release singles that failed to make it huge the first time around. Their persistence has finally paid off big time. After successes with this policy with The Killers and Kaiser Chiefs, this week’s UK album chart is topped by Hard-Fi (on the back of the third release of Cash Machine), and Editors (with the re-release of Munich) - The Back Room has finally made the Top 5 a full six months after was first released. Editors easily outshone Franz Ferdinand on their arena tour at the end of 2005. While Franz were still a good live proposition, they were missing the chemistry, that frission, the spark that made their 2004 shows so memorable.
Remarkable in the last year have been acts who may be great live, but failed to capture this in the studio. This is why I’m really excited about some second albums due to be released in 2006. Both The Duke Spirit with Cuts Across The Land and Archie Bronson Outfit with Fur fell into this hole; although superb live performers, their debut releases were somewhat flat and disappointing. I spent twenty minutes the other night bending the ear of Toby from TDS about how they MUST tour Australia, so that people can see how just how good they are. Time will tell if I made any impression.
Sometimes of course, the opposite is true. Which is why the man of the moment for 2005 was Paul Epworth, who dazzled with a Midas touch, both as producer and remixer (often under the moniker ‘Phones’). His special talent was by taking bands who could be less than impressive live (Bloc Party, Rakes) and producing great recordings and singles from them. If he was attached, you knew that they’d be something of merit about the project. He recently worked with Sheffield’s The Long Blondes. Although they are currently unsigned, but expect big things for them once they’ve recorded their debut. Bethnal Green’s Apartment find themselves in a similar position.
Other acts with second albums to look forward to in 2006 are Hope Of The States and The Veils. HotS have been in the studio for ages – the three songs I’ve heard so far are cause for excitement. With The Veils, singer/songwriter Finn Andrews is the only familiar face from The Runaway Found; expect a slower-paced, more melodic outing from a new five-piece line-up.
I wrote previously that 2005 was the year of The Oldie, with star turns from Gang of Four and The Psychedelic Furs, and a rise in the public fortunes of The Fall. 2006 sees the 20th anniversary of NME’s groundbreaking cassette compilation C86. It featured Age of Chance, The Bodines, Close Lobsters, Half Man Half Biscuit, McCarthy, The Pastels, Primal Scream, The Soup Dragons and Fuzzbox to name a few… This was really the birth of indie, and led to life after The Smiths, twee pop, shambling, and shoegaze. It’s rumoured that a series of concerts along the lines of ATP’s Don’t Look Back season is in the process of being arranged, so watch out for blasts from the past. The Wedding Present and Half Man Half Biscuit both had strong new releases in 2005, so expect them to lead the field. It could even help newer bands like Lions and Tigers get a leg up. Watch this space…
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 22 January 2006
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
"If 2005 was the year of the wolf, what will 2006 be?" asked the Inpress Annual Writers’ Poll last month. From where I sit, it will definitely be the Year of the Monkey! Or, to be more precise, Arctic Monkeys…
When The Sun Goes Down has rocketed straight to the top of the UK singles chart, and their debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not is on its way to becoming the fastest ever selling indie album in UK recording history (the current holder is Oasis with Definitely Maybe). What makes this so important is that it runs contrary to everything that the music industry has been telling us for years. The repeated mantra of "Home Taping Is Killing Music" may have been rewritten to include downloading, but the basic message remains. Yet Arctic Monkeys took the opposite route. They achieved this fantastic position by making their demo material readily and freely available; it allowed them to build up a worldwide following before they had even been signed. And now they’re going to break sales records when the album itself was leaked weeks ago!
Various A&R people are reported to be frantically searching for the next Arctic Monkeys, and Sheffield in particular is under siege. Good luck to ‘em! But you have to feel a little sorry for bands like Bromhead’s Jacket (described by Sheffield’s Sandman as "a cross between The Jam and the bastard northern brother of Blur") and The Harrisons, both whom are going to overcome the stigma of being described as the next AM.
A recurrent theme of the past 18 months has been record companies continuing to re-release singles that failed to make it huge the first time around. Their persistence has finally paid off big time. After successes with this policy with The Killers and Kaiser Chiefs, this week’s UK album chart is topped by Hard-Fi (on the back of the third release of Cash Machine), and Editors (with the re-release of Munich) - The Back Room has finally made the Top 5 a full six months after was first released. Editors easily outshone Franz Ferdinand on their arena tour at the end of 2005. While Franz were still a good live proposition, they were missing the chemistry, that frission, the spark that made their 2004 shows so memorable.
Remarkable in the last year have been acts who may be great live, but failed to capture this in the studio. This is why I’m really excited about some second albums due to be released in 2006. Both The Duke Spirit with Cuts Across The Land and Archie Bronson Outfit with Fur fell into this hole; although superb live performers, their debut releases were somewhat flat and disappointing. I spent twenty minutes the other night bending the ear of Toby from TDS about how they MUST tour Australia, so that people can see how just how good they are. Time will tell if I made any impression.
Sometimes of course, the opposite is true. Which is why the man of the moment for 2005 was Paul Epworth, who dazzled with a Midas touch, both as producer and remixer (often under the moniker ‘Phones’). His special talent was by taking bands who could be less than impressive live (Bloc Party, Rakes) and producing great recordings and singles from them. If he was attached, you knew that they’d be something of merit about the project. He recently worked with Sheffield’s The Long Blondes. Although they are currently unsigned, but expect big things for them once they’ve recorded their debut. Bethnal Green’s Apartment find themselves in a similar position.
Other acts with second albums to look forward to in 2006 are Hope Of The States and The Veils. HotS have been in the studio for ages – the three songs I’ve heard so far are cause for excitement. With The Veils, singer/songwriter Finn Andrews is the only familiar face from The Runaway Found; expect a slower-paced, more melodic outing from a new five-piece line-up.
I wrote previously that 2005 was the year of The Oldie, with star turns from Gang of Four and The Psychedelic Furs, and a rise in the public fortunes of The Fall. 2006 sees the 20th anniversary of NME’s groundbreaking cassette compilation C86. It featured Age of Chance, The Bodines, Close Lobsters, Half Man Half Biscuit, McCarthy, The Pastels, Primal Scream, The Soup Dragons and Fuzzbox to name a few… This was really the birth of indie, and led to life after The Smiths, twee pop, shambling, and shoegaze. It’s rumoured that a series of concerts along the lines of ATP’s Don’t Look Back season is in the process of being arranged, so watch out for blasts from the past. The Wedding Present and Half Man Half Biscuit both had strong new releases in 2005, so expect them to lead the field. It could even help newer bands like Lions and Tigers get a leg up. Watch this space…
© James McGalliard 2006
Wednesday, 14 December 2005
A Rough Guide
London Fields # 21
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 December 2005
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
"Does Camden Town really exist?" she asked me. It’s just after Faker have finished their final gig of their UK Tour [bottom of a bill of three acts on a quiet Wednesday night], and I’m talking to a 19 year old who’s only been in London a few weeks. "Well, I think I was there the other night", she continues, "but I can’t be sure if it was real or if I dreamed it…"
Camden used to be fabulous, a weird hybrid of Fitzroy and St Kilda. But no more - now you can’t get five paces without the ubiquitous offers of "skunkweed". It’s a journey to a destination, not a place to hang out in. Hoxton’s a much better bet, if you can cope with the coolsie factor.
Then she asked, "Are the Carling Venues the places to go?" The Melbourne equivalent would be "Can I catch upcoming acts cheap at The Metro and The Palace?" Some Aussies come to London and choose to live in SANZA share houses, get their news from TNT (a magazine for Antipodean travellers), and the Metro (a freebie morning tabloid, produced by Express Newspapers), go to Aussie pubs, and listen to JJJ on the internet. (By the way, SANZA is a horrible TNT-created acronym – lumping together all English conversant Southern Hemisphere travellers into the one basket – South Africa, New Zealand and Australia. Eek!). And of course, this lot go and see Aussie bands. In fact, now that you get pints in Melbourne pubs, some of them may as well have never left Australia at all.
But in deference to those seeking more, and as a Yuletide special, here are some handy hints which you may not find in your Lonely Planet or Let’s Go, especially for those who are making travel plans for a UK trip in 2006.
Gig Tickets. Beware of the sting of booking fees and postage costs – even though normal ticketing agents, a £12 ticket can easily jump to a £20 outlay. The trick is to buy in person, where possible. You can get tickets at face value for all Mean Fiddler venues from the Camden Ticket Office or Astoria box office, and the same applies at the Academy box offices for their venues. Of the agents, Stargreen are the best by far – reasonable fees, and friendly people. For some venues [Barfly, Scala] there is no place to buy without fees, so it’s a case of shopping around for the best deal. But don’t take too long as gigs are selling out in minutes, snatched by those hoping to turn a quick profit on eBay. To stand a hope, sign up for ticket alerts [Get Live, Ticketmaster, and Ticketweb] as these often offer gig presales.
Mailing lists are a great way to save money and find out what’s happening. Sign up to those from The Barfly, Plum Promotions [for The Marquee, Water Rats and Betsey Trotwood] and The Social. Check the websites for Bugbear Bookings [for Dublin Castle and The Hope and Anchor] and Up All Night Music for bands further down the pecking order. To save money, check the HMV and Virgin Megastore websites for free instore appearances. Join Artrocker – if you want Aussie bands, you could have seen Wolf & Cub, Love of Diagrams, Sinking Citizenship, Die! Die! Die! and The Grates, all for free in the last year alone. To find out what’s new, listen to BBC 6Music, or try XFM in the evenings. Also keep an eye on the websites Drowned In Sound, Sounds XP and Club AC30.
For a comprehensive 'What’s On', there’s nothing to beat Time Out. NME is no longer worth buying, but is worth flicking through for the live ads. Get The Guardian on a Saturday for The Guide. Try reading The Independent to get an overview of where you are, and what’s happening in the world. Eat at a caff and read their copy of The Sun – with three million copies sold a day it’s a window onto aspects of British life. As for music shopping, HMV is huge, and tempting, but Fopp is cheaper. There are some great second-hand shops, but you can find them for yourself…
Finally, don’t spend all your time in the capital; London is not the British Isles, or even England. Try living in Bristol, Manchester, Glasgow or even Dublin. They all have enough to offer that’s unique and interesting, and are large enough to get many of the acts that people stay in London to see.
I know a few people who have gone back to Melbourne because this place just really got to them after a while. It’s like surfing with really big waves – when things are going well, the rush is incredible, but when you get dumped it’s ten times worse than anything you’ve experienced before. The overriding thing is not to let London drain you of your creativity and spark. When you feel it’s time to move on, just do it.
Good luck and happy travels!
© James McGalliard 2007
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 14 December 2005
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
"Does Camden Town really exist?" she asked me. It’s just after Faker have finished their final gig of their UK Tour [bottom of a bill of three acts on a quiet Wednesday night], and I’m talking to a 19 year old who’s only been in London a few weeks. "Well, I think I was there the other night", she continues, "but I can’t be sure if it was real or if I dreamed it…"
Camden used to be fabulous, a weird hybrid of Fitzroy and St Kilda. But no more - now you can’t get five paces without the ubiquitous offers of "skunkweed". It’s a journey to a destination, not a place to hang out in. Hoxton’s a much better bet, if you can cope with the coolsie factor.
Then she asked, "Are the Carling Venues the places to go?" The Melbourne equivalent would be "Can I catch upcoming acts cheap at The Metro and The Palace?" Some Aussies come to London and choose to live in SANZA share houses, get their news from TNT (a magazine for Antipodean travellers), and the Metro (a freebie morning tabloid, produced by Express Newspapers), go to Aussie pubs, and listen to JJJ on the internet. (By the way, SANZA is a horrible TNT-created acronym – lumping together all English conversant Southern Hemisphere travellers into the one basket – South Africa, New Zealand and Australia. Eek!). And of course, this lot go and see Aussie bands. In fact, now that you get pints in Melbourne pubs, some of them may as well have never left Australia at all.
But in deference to those seeking more, and as a Yuletide special, here are some handy hints which you may not find in your Lonely Planet or Let’s Go, especially for those who are making travel plans for a UK trip in 2006.
Gig Tickets. Beware of the sting of booking fees and postage costs – even though normal ticketing agents, a £12 ticket can easily jump to a £20 outlay. The trick is to buy in person, where possible. You can get tickets at face value for all Mean Fiddler venues from the Camden Ticket Office or Astoria box office, and the same applies at the Academy box offices for their venues. Of the agents, Stargreen are the best by far – reasonable fees, and friendly people. For some venues [Barfly, Scala] there is no place to buy without fees, so it’s a case of shopping around for the best deal. But don’t take too long as gigs are selling out in minutes, snatched by those hoping to turn a quick profit on eBay. To stand a hope, sign up for ticket alerts [Get Live, Ticketmaster, and Ticketweb] as these often offer gig presales.
Mailing lists are a great way to save money and find out what’s happening. Sign up to those from The Barfly, Plum Promotions [for The Marquee, Water Rats and Betsey Trotwood] and The Social. Check the websites for Bugbear Bookings [for Dublin Castle and The Hope and Anchor] and Up All Night Music for bands further down the pecking order. To save money, check the HMV and Virgin Megastore websites for free instore appearances. Join Artrocker – if you want Aussie bands, you could have seen Wolf & Cub, Love of Diagrams, Sinking Citizenship, Die! Die! Die! and The Grates, all for free in the last year alone. To find out what’s new, listen to BBC 6Music, or try XFM in the evenings. Also keep an eye on the websites Drowned In Sound, Sounds XP and Club AC30.
For a comprehensive 'What’s On', there’s nothing to beat Time Out. NME is no longer worth buying, but is worth flicking through for the live ads. Get The Guardian on a Saturday for The Guide. Try reading The Independent to get an overview of where you are, and what’s happening in the world. Eat at a caff and read their copy of The Sun – with three million copies sold a day it’s a window onto aspects of British life. As for music shopping, HMV is huge, and tempting, but Fopp is cheaper. There are some great second-hand shops, but you can find them for yourself…
Finally, don’t spend all your time in the capital; London is not the British Isles, or even England. Try living in Bristol, Manchester, Glasgow or even Dublin. They all have enough to offer that’s unique and interesting, and are large enough to get many of the acts that people stay in London to see.
I know a few people who have gone back to Melbourne because this place just really got to them after a while. It’s like surfing with really big waves – when things are going well, the rush is incredible, but when you get dumped it’s ten times worse than anything you’ve experienced before. The overriding thing is not to let London drain you of your creativity and spark. When you feel it’s time to move on, just do it.
Good luck and happy travels!
© James McGalliard 2007
Wednesday, 19 October 2005
An Oldie But A Goodie
London Fields # 19
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 19 October 2005
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here
As an inveterate gig-goer, I was recently asked, "Is there any band that you wanted to see, but never did?" With reformations, and changes in taste, I was stumped for a moment. Well, there was the Velvet Underground reunion in 1993, but the venue [the soul-destroying black hole of Wembley] put me off the idea, both then and now. Which really only left the impossible dream of Joy Division.
I think I’ve raved enough in the past about the joy of seeing the reformed The Psychedelic Furs back in June. But the worrying trend of 2005 is that the old guard seems so much better live than the young guns.
A few weeks back I caught the original line-up of Gang Of Four playing at the Barbican. Even in such sterile environs, these older men summoned up more bite and bile than virtually any band coming up through the ranks now. Hugo Burnham may have filled out, but he still provides a powerhouse backbeat. From a distance Andy Gill and Dave Allen seem little changed - fairly bristling with energy as they stalk, duck and dive. As a near-Marxist collective, they attempt to undercut the role of frontman, but there’s one member who positively demands your attention. Regardless of which microphone he’s using, Jon King remains the central focus. Whether he’s slowly demolishing a microwave with a baseball bat like a human metronome, or crawling on all fours like a giant spider crab, or even running wildly backwards and forwards across the apron of the stage, arms waving up and down like the last space invader overrunning the base, it’s a magnetic performance. And their sound now is what the old recordings only hinted at – within thirty seconds you know that no one can touch these originals.
You could form a new line-up of a band with sixteen original members, but without one cantankerous grizzly old bastard, it wouldn’t be The Fall. Now in line-up number two thousand, the only thing that unites them is the irascible Mark E Smith. He still looks like a geography teacher and he’s still up to his old tricks. Possibly as an antidote to boredom, he sets about trying to distract the other members of the band. At a recent appearance he turned off a guitar amp, drowned out backing vocals by putting his vocal mike up to the amps, fiddled with drum mikes, and played odd notes on the keyboard. Yet this is all part of the charm, and they still create a great racket - utterly unique, yet completely recognisable.
If anyone else had done what John Cale did for his recent Black Acetate shows, the audience would have walked out. After opening with Venus In Furs, he played a two-hour set imbruing old and new material alike with a Sturm und Drang approach of repeated grinding guitar riffs. This was the Cale of the hockey mask, having fun. Ever since the 5 Tracks EP, every one of his tours has been stylistically different and intriguing. But as he carried it all out with such aplomb, he gets away with it.
This year Simple Minds are the trimmest they’ve been for over twenty years, both musically and physically. They’ve lost all their stadium rock flab, and have heavily trimmed the pomp. Their renewed energy and vigour allows the new material to shine [as does the pre-Live Aid material], and Eddie Duffy’s basswork recreates the steel structures that made us love them in 1981. Charlie still mouths the lyrics, Jim still dances, and they can still send shivers up your spine with the opening of Waterfront…
There may be some interesting developments in music here at the moment, but none of them are in London. Sheffield is at the forefront of an explosion of new acts [surf for Thee SPC or Sandman Magazine for more], and a new wave of pop is threatening to erupt [The Chalets, The Pipettes, El Pres!dente]. But instead of these bright hopes, we’re being told about Battle, who are about as shite as a live experience can be. So instead we’ll continue to look back to the originators, and sometimes find that the imitators become completely redundant.
At a concert to commemorate the life of John Peel last week, New Order did a set drawn entirely from the JD days. While four of these tracks have been a staple of their live sets for a few years now, playing a set with no New Order material, and including Shadowplay and Warsaw, was something special. This was the closest I will ever get to seeing Joy Division [barring a time machine], and dammit, didn’t it make me miss Peelie all over again. In honour of the occasion, you could forgive Barney’s excruciating dancing [now with added pirouettes], and technical hitches. The only thing that let them down was the vocals – the one thing they could never really replace.
But if Mark Burnett is looking for a follow-up to RockStar: INXS, I may have an idea for him…
© James McGalliard 2005
Wednesday, 21 September 2005
The Battle Of Britain
London Fields # 18
First published Inpress, Melbourne on 21 September 2005
NB: Each column has a name, but these do not appear in print; printed versions may differ slightly to those displayed here“Covering up the agony with mindless entertainment…”
ABC - United Kingdom
Over the past seven years, so-called reality shows have completely changed the landscape of modern television. Along with makeover projects, these are reasonably cheap to make, and have all but replaced the documentary. If their prevalence has made us all slightly more media savvy, just what has it done to those who participate?
In 1998, The Truman Show depicted the ultimate development is reality television. In the same year came the documentary 42 Up, looking at how a cross-section of British children, first interviewed at the age of 7 in 1964, were coping aged 42. This week ITV, as part of their 50th anniversary series of programmes, are halfway through showing the latest of the seven-year updates, 49 Up. The lives of the dozen or so participants have now probably outgrown pure documentary to evolve into the first reality TV stars. Yet in the time elapsed since the last instalment, the world of Big Brother and similar shows has not been without affect. A snowball that means that the director finds himself questioned about his motives in continuing to chase his subjects every seven years. Initially I thought filmmaker Michael Apted had lost his way when putting this together. It felt disconnected, as though he’d merely tacked an appendix onto his earlier work. But as time’s passed, I’ve realised there’s another reason for this change. The nation that he started to document some forty years ago no longer exists.
If starting a similar project now, would virtually all the children be white, and mostly male? There are different schisms now than class, which was seen as the major cultural divide back then. What’s worth noting is [in the first half at least] everyone has moved out of London. The reasons vary, but the most telling comes from Tony, the cabbie. He no longer feels that there are communities as there were when he was growing up, due to the influx of other cultures into Britain. His answer is to head to Spain, and set up his own Little Britain there. To go to another country and create an English enclave there – in other words to do exactly what he doesn’t like about the UK in the twenty-first century himself.
Reality television and documentary can meet and create something other than low brow fodder, as The Monastery showed. The concept for this was remarkably simple – take five men and put them in a Benedictine monastery for forty days and nights, living as the monks do, spending much time in silent thought, and to observe what happens. The resulting three one-hour episodes followed the challenges and revelations the men made as they come face-to-face with their inner selves. Made by the BBC religious unit, it was a compelling, and genuinely moving experience, and easily ranks as one of the television highlights of the year so far.
Last week there was a moment of national pride here, as the English enjoyed the feel-good factor, brought about by their victory in the Ashes series. This was a little odd. Cricket is not a grassroots game at all here – you don’t see kids playing it in the streets or the parks. The strongest following comes from the public schools, and the Asian communities [in the UK that means India, Pakistan and Bangladesh]. Football is the only real national sport here, but English successes there are even rarer than in the cricket. Sadly it seems unlikely that this fervour will have oxygen to fan the flames, as the draw at The Oval which gave the series victory to England was the last test match that you’ll be able to see on British TV without paying a subscription.
Having lost all three of its principal leads during the last series, the producers of Spooks had to find a pretty big bang to keep it all rolling. They came up with a two-parter about a series of bombs aimed at civilians in the capital. Yes, of course it was plotted, written and probably filmed before the events of July. Yet watching the scenes of dialogue-free devastation, you felt that someone had capitulated and rushed back to re-edit the original footage. The next episode concerned the election campaign of an ‘England for the English’ politician. A series that started as an enjoyable romp has descended into a dangerous mirror-reality, almost begging for copycat actions, so they can show how astute their observations are. If only leading light Rupert Penry-Jones had been given a second series of the sadly cancelled North Square instead.
Coincidentally, last weekend Trevor Phillips, the head of The Commission for Racial Equality, spoke of fears that Britain was in danger of becoming a ghetto nation. Yet all of this could be seen as the efforts of a new, changing nation struggling to find its own identity. If Apted decides to continue with his project, it’ll be interesting to see just what the Britain of 56 Up will be. And Gillian Armstrong – isn’t it about time that you showed us how the Australian women of Bingo, Bridesmaids & Braces are coping with their forties?
© James McGalliard 2005
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