Anyone on Facebook will probably be aware that there has been a recent internet campaign to make Rage Against The Machine’s song Killing In The Name Of Christmas number one. It was less about creating awareness for a band that had its heyday in the 1990’s and more about an amplified ‘Fuck You!’ to the X Factor. The whole point was to deny the winner of this year’s competition the Christmas number one spot. And it worked. It has become the first download only Christmas number one.
I didn’t participate for two reasons. One, I don’t really like RATM and two, I had an exact multiple of ten in my bank account and so downloading a song for £1.70 or however much it is would have meant that I couldn’t withdraw an extra tenner from the ATM.
It also struck me as being a little bit petty. I haven’t been concerned with the charts since I was about twelve and very much enjoyed Bob the Builder getting to number one. But I can appreciate the sentiment behind it. The X Factor is irritating and it does flood the charts with tedious, manufactured crap but, as I said, I don’t really give a fig about the charts. I used to give a fig about the mediocre music being released and people making money from it, but then I realised that there is still decent music out there. Either way when I started getting invited to join the Facebook group I decided I had better things to do and politely declined.
When I found out that it had actually worked I thought it was pretty funny, but that was it. As with many other things that I don’t really think are that big a deal it made front page news. Commentators were full of praise for the ‘young people who had the guts to stand up the popular culture that’s been spoon fed to them’. Few people seem to have noticed that both RATM and X Factor winner Joe McElderry are on the same record label to the profits from both are going to the same people. And joining a Facebook group while downloading a song from iTunes isn’t exactly a taxing way to make a stand.
I’ll make a confession here. When I heard that the campaign had been successful it made me a bit happy. I Tweeted (because I am a technologically minded personage of the times) that I was chuffed with the ‘people power’. I still am, a bit, but I don’t think we should fool ourselves into thinking that the yoof of today really care. There’s something depressing to see that they would rally around a campaign to unseat the X Factor but not to help Palestinian refugees or victims of AIDS or child abuse. And they won’t protest. They’ll just join a Facebook group and give Apple a few pence.
That, and a great deal of those who joined will have joined because their mates talked them into it or because it is, in certain circles, far cooler to like RATM than the X Factor. This isn’t really a victory for anyone. People will, by and large, still listen and buy the music they like and think ‘sod it’ to everyone else. I'm still of the opinion that young people are not as socially aware as they should be and they don’t care about things that, I think, they should care about.
This isn’t entirely the fault of the X Factor, although here are those who like to pretend that it is. The X Factor is just a TV programme that people will watch and if they like the music they will buy it. Apathy is not a problem that has easy answers nor can it be solved easily. But, really, is that what we should spend Christmas worrying about? Go and eat turkey and get drunk.
Peace and Love and Snow and Christmas Booze x
P.S. No ranting next week. I'm down south bonding with relatives.
22 December 2009
14 December 2009
Why We Should Call Off Christmas
I live in a little bubble. The only regular exposure I got to newspapers was when I was working and I used to flick through the ones someone else had brought in and left in the canteen on my lunch break. And the Metro, but I'm never on a bus long enough to have a proper look through, and they’re rarely in a readable condition when I get to them anyway. As a consequence of this I'm not sure if this rant applies this year as much as it had for the last few years. I assume it does. Grizzly little attention seeking whine buckets don’t, unfortunately, just disappear. And even if they have gone it irked me so much in Christmases past that I'm still going to have a good bitch about it.
Yep, it’s Christmas. I have officially resigned myself to this fact. We’re over half way through advent, there’s not a town centre in the land that can’t be seen from Jupiter and the Famous Grouse is waddling merrily across my TV screen. Happy December to us all.
However, amongst all this shiny eyed cheer there lurks a group of people determined to shout over the merry hum. They’re always there of course, it’s not just the festive season they choose to interrupt, but I feel bad for the kids when they start up about Christmas. It’s those old favourites the I-Exist-Purely-To-Be-Offended-And-Then-Write-Into-The-Daily-Mail-About-It Brigade.
According to these doom mongers our multicultural society is destroying Christmas. Judging by the smiling Santas beaming down at me from every rooftop and the endless runs of Christmas specials on TV I don’t actually think this is the case. Christmas still permeates everything from September onwards yet these cretins insist that local council do-gooders are removing Christmas in case it offends some invisible and silent minority.
They even make up their own evidence. Anyone remember the ‘Winterval’ scandal? Apparently a town centre (I think it was Birmingham, but it might have been Nottingham. Either way I'm thinking Midlands) began to advertise Winterval as a politically correct alternative to Christmas. Except they didn’t. Winterval wasn’t anything to do with replacing Christmas. It was to attract people to the city centre throughout the winter months, including December and therefore Christmas.
These people hide behind a pretence of ‘acting in the public good’ and ‘preserving the British culture’ but actually they just enjoy feeling offended. They like the thrill they get from complaining and will latch onto anything that they feel can justify their meaningless existence, even if it’s complaining that something which is clearly still there is disappearing and being replaced by something that has been removed so far from context it’s become a joke.
But supposing just for a minute they are right. Suppose Christmas really is being gradually eroded in place of something more multicultural. Suppose these idiotic grief mongers actually have something to whine about. Well, I think it would actually be a good thing.
Christmas has become a joke. It starts in August (seriously. I used to work in retail and the Christmas stock started coming in on the same wagons as the sun cream). It stresses people out and encourages them to get into debt which they can’t afford and which in the current economic climate will hang around their necks for decades. It exists purely to persuade children to guilt trip their parents into buying them expensive toys that prop up some faceless multinational corporation. Break ups, suicides, self harm, domestic violence, alcohol poisoning and people turning themselves in at the doctors with cases of stress related illness all increase over the Christmas period. People are so hung up about having ‘the perfect Christmas’ (which is an idea mostly sold to them by Coca Cola, along with Santa’s red and white suit, anyway) they can’t cope when the fantasy is revealed for what it is.
Maybe if Christmas is taken down a few thousand volts it’ll be better for everyone. Practicing Christian or not Christmas is more than the money you spend on it. If it stopped being the commercial bloodbath it’s turned into and started being more about spending a few days chilling out with your family then I really don’t see the harm in councils everywhere toning down celebrations and shops cutting back on the space they devote to presents and decorations.
This may be unbearably twee for some of you but, frankly, I don’t really care. I hate 99% of what Christmas has become and I wouldn’t really miss it if it all disappeared tomorrow. All I want is my Mum and Dad and a turkey dinner. The rest is unnecessary and I will happily sacrifice it on any altar, even that dreaded modern demon multiculturalism.
Peace on Earth and Mercy Mild x
Yep, it’s Christmas. I have officially resigned myself to this fact. We’re over half way through advent, there’s not a town centre in the land that can’t be seen from Jupiter and the Famous Grouse is waddling merrily across my TV screen. Happy December to us all.
However, amongst all this shiny eyed cheer there lurks a group of people determined to shout over the merry hum. They’re always there of course, it’s not just the festive season they choose to interrupt, but I feel bad for the kids when they start up about Christmas. It’s those old favourites the I-Exist-Purely-To-Be-Offended-And-Then-Write-Into-The-Daily-Mail-About-It Brigade.
According to these doom mongers our multicultural society is destroying Christmas. Judging by the smiling Santas beaming down at me from every rooftop and the endless runs of Christmas specials on TV I don’t actually think this is the case. Christmas still permeates everything from September onwards yet these cretins insist that local council do-gooders are removing Christmas in case it offends some invisible and silent minority.
They even make up their own evidence. Anyone remember the ‘Winterval’ scandal? Apparently a town centre (I think it was Birmingham, but it might have been Nottingham. Either way I'm thinking Midlands) began to advertise Winterval as a politically correct alternative to Christmas. Except they didn’t. Winterval wasn’t anything to do with replacing Christmas. It was to attract people to the city centre throughout the winter months, including December and therefore Christmas.
These people hide behind a pretence of ‘acting in the public good’ and ‘preserving the British culture’ but actually they just enjoy feeling offended. They like the thrill they get from complaining and will latch onto anything that they feel can justify their meaningless existence, even if it’s complaining that something which is clearly still there is disappearing and being replaced by something that has been removed so far from context it’s become a joke.
But supposing just for a minute they are right. Suppose Christmas really is being gradually eroded in place of something more multicultural. Suppose these idiotic grief mongers actually have something to whine about. Well, I think it would actually be a good thing.
Christmas has become a joke. It starts in August (seriously. I used to work in retail and the Christmas stock started coming in on the same wagons as the sun cream). It stresses people out and encourages them to get into debt which they can’t afford and which in the current economic climate will hang around their necks for decades. It exists purely to persuade children to guilt trip their parents into buying them expensive toys that prop up some faceless multinational corporation. Break ups, suicides, self harm, domestic violence, alcohol poisoning and people turning themselves in at the doctors with cases of stress related illness all increase over the Christmas period. People are so hung up about having ‘the perfect Christmas’ (which is an idea mostly sold to them by Coca Cola, along with Santa’s red and white suit, anyway) they can’t cope when the fantasy is revealed for what it is.
Maybe if Christmas is taken down a few thousand volts it’ll be better for everyone. Practicing Christian or not Christmas is more than the money you spend on it. If it stopped being the commercial bloodbath it’s turned into and started being more about spending a few days chilling out with your family then I really don’t see the harm in councils everywhere toning down celebrations and shops cutting back on the space they devote to presents and decorations.
This may be unbearably twee for some of you but, frankly, I don’t really care. I hate 99% of what Christmas has become and I wouldn’t really miss it if it all disappeared tomorrow. All I want is my Mum and Dad and a turkey dinner. The rest is unnecessary and I will happily sacrifice it on any altar, even that dreaded modern demon multiculturalism.
Peace on Earth and Mercy Mild x
10 December 2009
Frankmusik, Killa Kella and Gigantor at Manchester Club Academy. 8th December 2009
I felt older than I have ever felt in the queue for Tuesday night’s gig. Not only were people legally allowed to drink alcohol far outnumbered by those who could not (there was a fair percentage that didn’t look like they could legally consent to sex) but they were making themselves very obvious. A lot of them were drunk (illegally) and most of them were shrieking and running around. There does seem to be a trend emerging that modern 14-16 year olds need to act up to look cool. It’s fecking irritating. Once inside we were also limited to only buying one drink each as Manchester Uni Union obviously didn’t fancy getting fined for supplying alcohol to underagers.
Then it started to rain, and proceeded to start raining quite hard. Despite it being in my union I could only get in with one guest (I had three) and the other Man Uni student coming with us was running late so we stood there and shivered.
So we got inside and shook ourselves off wet dog style and huddled over our one-at-a-time drinks. The first support act was a DJ (Gigantor, so called because he appeared to be about seven feet tall and about three wide). He was alright, as far as DJs go, but from where I was sitting it appeared he was being paid to stand on the stage, twiddle knobs and drink. It’s a hard life for some. I hardly knew any of the songs he was playing and I didn’t feel like dancing anyway. I felt like I needed a Zimmer frame.
The second support act (Killa Kella) was an actual band with an actual variety of actual people doing actual musical things but were still crap. Well, I say crap, but that seems a bit harsh. They were very hip hop and I don’t know anything about hip hop. The lyrics were very repetitive though. The good hip hop I've heard is like poetry set to a beat. Perhaps I was right first time and they were crap. The fourteen year olds, still high on their one illicitly gained WKD, lapped it up though.
Finally Killa Kella left the stage and we sidled down the side of the teenagers to get closer to the stage. Frankmusik is pretty new on my musical radar and he only has one album out (and two remix albums, which smacks of old rope to me, but ho hum) so I was quite interested in seeing him live. That one album, however, is rather good and far more accomplished than most of the lyrically pointless synth pop 80’s revival nonsense that’s doing the rounds at the moment (hang your head in shame La Roux). He also turned out to be a fantastic vocalist, never faulting through the whole set and treating us to some beat boxing when technical difficulties gave us an impromptu break. As he only has one album out he had to pad the set a bit with covers (Amy Winehouse’s ‘Rehab’ was very well received) and an acoustic version of ‘Three Little Words’. That was one of the highlights of my night as I prefer the version on the remix album that is more chilled than the single version. I had hoped he would do my favourite song (‘In Step’) last, but he did ‘Better Off As Two’ instead which is also a rather good song. It was, however, quite a short set and although enjoyable, we were soon stumbling wide eyed out of the Union and back into the Manchester rain.
As I said, it was good, but I'm not sure I’ll see him again.
Peace and Love x
Then it started to rain, and proceeded to start raining quite hard. Despite it being in my union I could only get in with one guest (I had three) and the other Man Uni student coming with us was running late so we stood there and shivered.
So we got inside and shook ourselves off wet dog style and huddled over our one-at-a-time drinks. The first support act was a DJ (Gigantor, so called because he appeared to be about seven feet tall and about three wide). He was alright, as far as DJs go, but from where I was sitting it appeared he was being paid to stand on the stage, twiddle knobs and drink. It’s a hard life for some. I hardly knew any of the songs he was playing and I didn’t feel like dancing anyway. I felt like I needed a Zimmer frame.
The second support act (Killa Kella) was an actual band with an actual variety of actual people doing actual musical things but were still crap. Well, I say crap, but that seems a bit harsh. They were very hip hop and I don’t know anything about hip hop. The lyrics were very repetitive though. The good hip hop I've heard is like poetry set to a beat. Perhaps I was right first time and they were crap. The fourteen year olds, still high on their one illicitly gained WKD, lapped it up though.
Finally Killa Kella left the stage and we sidled down the side of the teenagers to get closer to the stage. Frankmusik is pretty new on my musical radar and he only has one album out (and two remix albums, which smacks of old rope to me, but ho hum) so I was quite interested in seeing him live. That one album, however, is rather good and far more accomplished than most of the lyrically pointless synth pop 80’s revival nonsense that’s doing the rounds at the moment (hang your head in shame La Roux). He also turned out to be a fantastic vocalist, never faulting through the whole set and treating us to some beat boxing when technical difficulties gave us an impromptu break. As he only has one album out he had to pad the set a bit with covers (Amy Winehouse’s ‘Rehab’ was very well received) and an acoustic version of ‘Three Little Words’. That was one of the highlights of my night as I prefer the version on the remix album that is more chilled than the single version. I had hoped he would do my favourite song (‘In Step’) last, but he did ‘Better Off As Two’ instead which is also a rather good song. It was, however, quite a short set and although enjoyable, we were soon stumbling wide eyed out of the Union and back into the Manchester rain.
As I said, it was good, but I'm not sure I’ll see him again.
Peace and Love x
7 December 2009
How To Look Ten Years Younger
How about a good rant? I haven’t had one for a while and my initial intention was to set the world to rights every Monday. Well, there’s ninety minutes of Monday left so I don’t see why I shouldn’t bother you all with my opinions.
The topic of this rant, as you’ll no doubt have guessed if you’ve read the title is How To Look Ten Years Younger. It’s a program on some two bit satellite channel, but this rant isn’t all about that. It’s the general obsession at the moment with not looking your age.
When you’re in your teens all you want to do is look older. Then you have maybe five years respite before you’re expected to want to look younger than you are. So, are we meant to believe that people are only valuable between the ages of twenty and twenty-five? According to the propaganda we’re fed day in day out you can only be successful between these ages, you can only lead a fun and fulfilling social life between these ages and you can certainly only be desirable between these ages.
Hmmm, given that most people live another sixty years after this time period that’s all a bit depressing if you ask me. There was a time when the older you were the more respected you were. Your years and your wrinkles were to be shown of with pride as it showed the life you’d led. Now when you get wrinkles you must iron your face immediately or, shock horror, someone might actually be able to tell your age. Old people are at best a figure of ridicule and at worst seen as a drain on society. The views and opinions of those in their eighties are dismissed with the same patronising simper as the demands of a five year old child.
But why? Well, clearly it’s our old friend the homogenisation of beauty rearing its head as a start. People get easier to control the narrower the criteria identified as acceptable gets. You can only be beautiful for five years. That seems pretty narrow to me.
Another theory is that we live in society that needs to hold up unattainable ideas and lifestyles in order to project a fake sense of unity and, again, to keep as many people under the thumb as they feel they can get away with.
Or maybe it’s just a fear of death.
I don’t know. I'm just speculating. All I know is that, whatever your age, you should be respected and you should walk with your head held up high. If you’re sixty show your wrinkles with pride. If you’re eighteen don’t worry because you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Enjoy it and don’t give crow’s feet a second’s thought. Don’t ever want to be ten years younger, just be thankful for all the good times you’ve had in those past ten years.
Peace and love x
6 December 2009
This Has Made My Day....
My word! Hypocrisy is rife these days, isn't it? Most of the time it's irritating, but sometimes it really tickles me. This is one such occasion...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/8393081.stm
Not that I think it's wonderful that people are slowly choking the planet. I'm a massive fan of penguins and polar bears (although from a distance. I'm under the impression that they can have a bit of an attitude problem. And what the hell was with the random polar bear picture on tonight's X Factor? What did that poor, defenceless creature do to end up behind one of those talentless cretins?). I just think it's funny that the people who are mostly likely to preach climate change dogma are also the ones most likely to be pointlessly wasting energy. Sorry about earlier in the paragraph. I seem to have gone off on a bit of a tangent.
Anyway, given that, in my humble opinion, a lot of the things we're told to do in the name of the planet are more about controlling people than the result of any sort of genuine concern this has rather made my night. I so love being right. It's almost worth being stuck in while Housemate's are out raving. Almost.
Peace and love to all the penguins and polar bears x
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/8393081.stm
Not that I think it's wonderful that people are slowly choking the planet. I'm a massive fan of penguins and polar bears (although from a distance. I'm under the impression that they can have a bit of an attitude problem. And what the hell was with the random polar bear picture on tonight's X Factor? What did that poor, defenceless creature do to end up behind one of those talentless cretins?). I just think it's funny that the people who are mostly likely to preach climate change dogma are also the ones most likely to be pointlessly wasting energy. Sorry about earlier in the paragraph. I seem to have gone off on a bit of a tangent.
Anyway, given that, in my humble opinion, a lot of the things we're told to do in the name of the planet are more about controlling people than the result of any sort of genuine concern this has rather made my night. I so love being right. It's almost worth being stuck in while Housemate's are out raving. Almost.
Peace and love to all the penguins and polar bears x
3 December 2009
The Cruxshadows, Zeitgeist Zero and Ayria at the Cockpit, Leeds. 29th November 2009
Yeah, so I'm a bit late but I've had a busy few days. Actually, that’s a bare faced lie. I've had several days of alternating between being incredibly lazy and panicking that I'm not doing any uni work so burying my head in a book for hours on end. Either way, I haven’t felt like blogging, but this gig was ace so everyone needs to know about it.
It was in Leeds, which automatically makes it ace. I like going to gigs in Leeds because it means I can descend on my parents for a day of a warm house and decent food. Of course, on this occasion my mother convinced me to sing in a carol service, but usually their house isn’t nearly so stressful. The other wonderful thing about Leeds is that it reminds me of my youth. Going back to the Cockpit (where this gig was at) always brings back fond memories. The first time I went there some fat guy stage dived and squashed me.
And the Cockpit itself is a lovely venue. It’s curved, and I think that does something to the acoustics and it’s quite small so gives off the best atmosphere. The bar also doesn’t want half your life savings for a Sailor Jerry and Coke, so that’s also quite nice.
Right, I better stop wittering on about irrelevant fluff and tell you about this music. All three acts were fantastic. The opening act was Ayria (and we all know how I feel about her). The smaller venue did wonders for her and she got to interact with the audience a lot more so as well as the banging choons she was also a complete sweetheart. I met her again after the gig and she remembered me. Oh yes, I am going up in the world.
The next act was Leeds locals Zeitgeist Zero. I have to admit that I didn’t know much about them. I'd only heard a few songs and I don’t think I was concentrating. More fool me. They were superb. Their sound is a spooky rockabilly kinda scene with some solid electro keyboards thrown in there. They reminded me a bit of the Horrorpops. I'm not a big fan of psychobilly/rockabilly but Zeitgeist Zero are an exception. The singer’s spooky demeanour (lots of smouldering looks and elbow length evening gloves) was a joy to watch and the projection they’d rigged up to play on the back of the stage really added something to the performance. I had a conversation with the (rather lovely) bassist after the show and apparently the films were out of sync with the songs, but you really couldn’t tell. I’ll definitely be making the effort to find out more about these guys.
It was the third time I'd seen the Cruxshadows and they’ve never been a disappointment. Once you get used to band members wandering around in the audience during the set you realise that it’s a great way to do a gig. There was a fantastic rapport all the way through. They had a new guitarist and a new dancer (a very new dancer, she started during the current tour) but the music was as well played as ever. I'm probably wrong about this (I don’t know my music nearly as well as I should do) but there’s no one out there doing exactly what they do. There’s a strong folk influence in there with the violins and the guitar and keyboards seem to compliment each other rather than compete with each other, however I will admit there were a few songs that I didn’t realise had such a strong guitar part until I actually saw someone up there playing the notes. Although the performance element isn’t as strong as their narrative lyrics allow them to be you still get the sense that they mean every word they sing. The finale of ‘Marilyn My Bitterness’ (involving half the audience, including me, being hauled up on stage to dance around the various guitars and violins) was everything you’d want from a closing number-fun, well played and the high note you need before you retire to the bar to parch the thirst you’ve drummed up from singing along with every single word for the last hour and a half.
I'm in favour of good gigs.
Peace and love x
It was in Leeds, which automatically makes it ace. I like going to gigs in Leeds because it means I can descend on my parents for a day of a warm house and decent food. Of course, on this occasion my mother convinced me to sing in a carol service, but usually their house isn’t nearly so stressful. The other wonderful thing about Leeds is that it reminds me of my youth. Going back to the Cockpit (where this gig was at) always brings back fond memories. The first time I went there some fat guy stage dived and squashed me.
And the Cockpit itself is a lovely venue. It’s curved, and I think that does something to the acoustics and it’s quite small so gives off the best atmosphere. The bar also doesn’t want half your life savings for a Sailor Jerry and Coke, so that’s also quite nice.
Right, I better stop wittering on about irrelevant fluff and tell you about this music. All three acts were fantastic. The opening act was Ayria (and we all know how I feel about her). The smaller venue did wonders for her and she got to interact with the audience a lot more so as well as the banging choons she was also a complete sweetheart. I met her again after the gig and she remembered me. Oh yes, I am going up in the world.
The next act was Leeds locals Zeitgeist Zero. I have to admit that I didn’t know much about them. I'd only heard a few songs and I don’t think I was concentrating. More fool me. They were superb. Their sound is a spooky rockabilly kinda scene with some solid electro keyboards thrown in there. They reminded me a bit of the Horrorpops. I'm not a big fan of psychobilly/rockabilly but Zeitgeist Zero are an exception. The singer’s spooky demeanour (lots of smouldering looks and elbow length evening gloves) was a joy to watch and the projection they’d rigged up to play on the back of the stage really added something to the performance. I had a conversation with the (rather lovely) bassist after the show and apparently the films were out of sync with the songs, but you really couldn’t tell. I’ll definitely be making the effort to find out more about these guys.
It was the third time I'd seen the Cruxshadows and they’ve never been a disappointment. Once you get used to band members wandering around in the audience during the set you realise that it’s a great way to do a gig. There was a fantastic rapport all the way through. They had a new guitarist and a new dancer (a very new dancer, she started during the current tour) but the music was as well played as ever. I'm probably wrong about this (I don’t know my music nearly as well as I should do) but there’s no one out there doing exactly what they do. There’s a strong folk influence in there with the violins and the guitar and keyboards seem to compliment each other rather than compete with each other, however I will admit there were a few songs that I didn’t realise had such a strong guitar part until I actually saw someone up there playing the notes. Although the performance element isn’t as strong as their narrative lyrics allow them to be you still get the sense that they mean every word they sing. The finale of ‘Marilyn My Bitterness’ (involving half the audience, including me, being hauled up on stage to dance around the various guitars and violins) was everything you’d want from a closing number-fun, well played and the high note you need before you retire to the bar to parch the thirst you’ve drummed up from singing along with every single word for the last hour and a half.
I'm in favour of good gigs.
Peace and love x
28 November 2009
A Lament to Borders
I got some pretty sad news yesterday. Borders, the book shop, has gone into administration. I know administration doesn’t mean it’s gone forever, but it means that outcome is looking pretty likely. They’ll probably keep the stores open over Christmas, glean whatever profit they can from them, and then close them. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that some shops, if not the whole chain, will be bought up and kept open as retail outlets. Hopefully they’ll remain bookshops. The Borders at the top of Briggate in Leeds (where I mis-spent my youth) will always hold a special place in my heart. I’ll be gutted if it becomes a Poundland.
I have a very strong affection for book shops. It’s not just the big Waterstones-Borders-Blackwells ones, it’s all of them. I especially like second hand book shops, although they’re getting very thin on the ground. There’s only a handful in Manchester. Sob sob. I also quite like rifling through the book shelves in charity shops and the book departments in WHS Smiths and general department stores. There’s something wonderful about holding a book in your hands, reading the blurb, flicking through it, even if you’re completely skint and couldn’t afford a charity shop Penguin paper back. If I ever need to waste some time I’ll be in a book shop shuffling through pages and covers. The addition of coffee shops to many has really made my life. As a closet yuppie and caffeine addict I like nothing better than to fondle my new papery purchases over a coffee.
Yeah, I know you can get books online, and they have a bigger range, and they tend to be cheaper, but I’ll always prefer actually looking at the stuff I buy. I like to examine it closely, and if I hand over real money I get a better idea that it’s actually just cost me currency. You also get it straight away. This doesn’t just go for books, it goes for everything.
So, although it’s not the end of the world, I will be sad to see Borders go, and I've got my fingers crossed that this isn’t the start of a trend. I hope that old school shops of all kinds don’t disappear. I don’t really like shopping. I never have enough money and people stress me out (that’s why I mostly communicate through the internet) but sometimes I do just like to rummage, even though I hardly ever buy anything.
Meh.
Peace and Love x
I have a very strong affection for book shops. It’s not just the big Waterstones-Borders-Blackwells ones, it’s all of them. I especially like second hand book shops, although they’re getting very thin on the ground. There’s only a handful in Manchester. Sob sob. I also quite like rifling through the book shelves in charity shops and the book departments in WHS Smiths and general department stores. There’s something wonderful about holding a book in your hands, reading the blurb, flicking through it, even if you’re completely skint and couldn’t afford a charity shop Penguin paper back. If I ever need to waste some time I’ll be in a book shop shuffling through pages and covers. The addition of coffee shops to many has really made my life. As a closet yuppie and caffeine addict I like nothing better than to fondle my new papery purchases over a coffee.
Yeah, I know you can get books online, and they have a bigger range, and they tend to be cheaper, but I’ll always prefer actually looking at the stuff I buy. I like to examine it closely, and if I hand over real money I get a better idea that it’s actually just cost me currency. You also get it straight away. This doesn’t just go for books, it goes for everything.
So, although it’s not the end of the world, I will be sad to see Borders go, and I've got my fingers crossed that this isn’t the start of a trend. I hope that old school shops of all kinds don’t disappear. I don’t really like shopping. I never have enough money and people stress me out (that’s why I mostly communicate through the internet) but sometimes I do just like to rummage, even though I hardly ever buy anything.
Meh.
Peace and Love x
27 November 2009
Dark Angel
Last night I attended a screening of the short animation Dark Angel that was commissoned by make up company Illamasqua. It was made in memory of Sophie Lancaster, who was savagely beaten to death in a park in Lancashire while trying to protect her boyfriend, Rob. The only reason Sophie and Rob were attacked was because they were dressed as 'goths'.
Since then Sophie's mother Sylvia has campaigned tirelessly, spreading a message of tolerance. Last night's screening, to mark what would have been Sophie's twenty third birthday, was part of a much broader mission to try and stop what happened to Sophie happening to anyone else.
I've posted the film below. It's a beautiful and very moving piece, but please be aware that it shows the attack on Sophie and Rob. I would, however, encourage everyone to watch it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sB0PHDkY7dI
www.myspace.com/inmemoryofsophie
www.illamasqua.com
Since then Sophie's mother Sylvia has campaigned tirelessly, spreading a message of tolerance. Last night's screening, to mark what would have been Sophie's twenty third birthday, was part of a much broader mission to try and stop what happened to Sophie happening to anyone else.
I've posted the film below. It's a beautiful and very moving piece, but please be aware that it shows the attack on Sophie and Rob. I would, however, encourage everyone to watch it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sB0PHDkY7dI
www.myspace.com/inmemoryofsophie
www.illamasqua.com
23 November 2009
Kick Ass Web Comics
The internet is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Where once I would have spend my hard earned government scroungings on actual, paper, environmentally unfriendly comic books I know get to indulge my short attention spanned desire for stories for free. Ain't that grand?
Ooooo! Look! Pictures! I have no idea how well this is going to work, and I think the sizes of the images are going to vary greatly, but at least I'm trying to make things a little bit interesting for you.
Anyway, Bunny. I actually discovered Bunny on Saturday (paid hard currency for the book too). The art style is simple and easy on the eye and although there seems to be an over arching story the strips on their own make a good giggle. It's centred around a group of (you guessed it) bunnies) who are trying to make sense of this crazy, crazy world and have fun doing it. Sounds like me really.
Awwwwww! So cute! Another easy to look at, easy to follow little comic. The humour isn't as 'random' as Bunny, but is just as family friendly. It follows the adventures of a group of gothically inclined 'beans' (have yet to establish what type of beans. I'm thinking Jelly judging by the variations on colour in the strip) who work in a shop. Sometimes the simplest ideas work the best.
Yeah, alright, so she's not strictly a web comic, but if you live, like I do, in a area heavily populated with students when you do have to brave the buses (usually due to torrential downpours) all the Metros are covered with hangover vomit, so getting your daily Nemi fix online is the best bet.
I have to admit that I've fallen out of touch with this one over the last month or so, but when I was reading it religiously it was, quite simply, awesome. It's not as reliable as some of the others, but that's mainly to do with the sheer length of the episodes (each installment is six pages long). The quality of the artwork is incredible and done in a very 'old school' comic style. Unsurprisingly, the hard copy version has sold very well (though not to me, yet).
Back to a less traditional art style now. Orneryboy (aside from Bunny) is my newest discovery. Like many of the others it's inoffensive and easy to follow. It follows the adventures of Ornery, his girlfriend, her band, his zombie friends and his cat. There's also haunted drum machines and cheap coffee shops thrown in there for good measure as well.
http://www.orneryboy.com/index.php
6. Foamy the Squirrel
As well as being grand for those of us who have to subsist on £120 a week (hmmmm, so minus rent that would be £50 then) it's also grand for very talented people in similar financial situations and want to get themselves known. Yes, the internet is a wonderful thing.
We'll overlook the fact that, despite my abject poverty, I was at the much underrated Thought Bubble Comic Book Convention in Leeds on Saturday and did trade hard currency for paper, environmentally unfriendly copies of said comics. They're wonderful and worth every penny by the way.
So, for your delectation, I present to you the best of the absolute best of web comics. Enjoy!
1. Bunny
Ooooo! Look! Pictures! I have no idea how well this is going to work, and I think the sizes of the images are going to vary greatly, but at least I'm trying to make things a little bit interesting for you.Anyway, Bunny. I actually discovered Bunny on Saturday (paid hard currency for the book too). The art style is simple and easy on the eye and although there seems to be an over arching story the strips on their own make a good giggle. It's centred around a group of (you guessed it) bunnies) who are trying to make sense of this crazy, crazy world and have fun doing it. Sounds like me really.
2. Gothy Beans
Awwwwww! So cute! Another easy to look at, easy to follow little comic. The humour isn't as 'random' as Bunny, but is just as family friendly. It follows the adventures of a group of gothically inclined 'beans' (have yet to establish what type of beans. I'm thinking Jelly judging by the variations on colour in the strip) who work in a shop. Sometimes the simplest ideas work the best.3. Nemi
Yeah, alright, so she's not strictly a web comic, but if you live, like I do, in a area heavily populated with students when you do have to brave the buses (usually due to torrential downpours) all the Metros are covered with hangover vomit, so getting your daily Nemi fix online is the best bet.She's actuallu pretty good for the resident of a newspaper that's owned by the same people as the Daily Mail. The comics are tiny snippets of Nemi and her friends amusingly ordinary life.
4. Freakangels
I have to admit that I've fallen out of touch with this one over the last month or so, but when I was reading it religiously it was, quite simply, awesome. It's not as reliable as some of the others, but that's mainly to do with the sheer length of the episodes (each installment is six pages long). The quality of the artwork is incredible and done in a very 'old school' comic style. Unsurprisingly, the hard copy version has sold very well (though not to me, yet).The story is very daring. Set in a not-too-far-away post apocalyptic London a group of friends with psychic abilities try to survive.
5. Orneryboy
Back to a less traditional art style now. Orneryboy (aside from Bunny) is my newest discovery. Like many of the others it's inoffensive and easy to follow. It follows the adventures of Ornery, his girlfriend, her band, his zombie friends and his cat. There's also haunted drum machines and cheap coffee shops thrown in there for good measure as well.
http://www.orneryboy.com/index.php
6. Foamy the Squirrel
Oh my word! How much do I love this squirrel? There is nothing than can accurately do justice to my feelingd for this animated little rodent. It's on the verge of bestiality (or maybe technophilia...?). Again, not technically a comic. Foamy is a cartoon posted on the web (and apparently a few late night indie TV programmes in America as well but, never having lived in America, I cannot verify this).
Why do I love Foamy so much? Simple, because he rants and he sings offensive songs and is abusive to everyone around him. What's not to love? As well as wonderful insights into his personality (he loves bagels with cream cheese, creamy creamy cheesy cream) and that of his owner, Germaine, he also rants about topical issues. Some apply more to America then here, but are still worth a watch.
If you ever get the chance, watch The Amityville Toaster. I was in stitches.
That leads us on nicely into our final comic...
7. 4y Records
As you can no doubt see (sorry for the crummy picture quality by the way) 4y is done by the same guy as Foamy, but instead of an irrate squirrel it focuses on an irrate record shop owner who vents his disillusionment against the state of modern music, popular culture and the world in general to unsuspecting (but really quite deserving) customers.
This was a lot of fun actually. I like using pictures, I'm going to use them more often. And get back into Freakangels. And maybe the next time I can't be bothered railing against the various injustices of humanity I'll do a 'Best of YouTube' blog.
Peace and love, and please, please, check one or two of these great works out. x
16 November 2009
The Most Irritating Advert to Ever Clog Up the Airwaves
Adverts, eh? Who actually likes them? Even the good ones have a false kind of enjoyment about them. Yeah, that meerkat is cute, but he is preventing you from watching Buffy. These things need to be taken into consideration.
Recently I have been confronted by, what I think, is easily the worst advert ever. It’s one that most people think is pretty inoffensive as well. It’s one that people sit back and think oh, isn’t that kind! It’s very informative and could be potentially averting the health crisis that we are told is imminent every waking hour of our lives. Yep, it’s that odious, smug, self satisfied rant to free choice that is EAT LESS, MOVE MORE, LIVE LONGER. Change4Life.
Before we move onto anything overtly political I need to point out the grammatical problems. I need to, OK? Just let it go. They couldn’t be bothered to keep the alliteration going through all three of the slogans. That’s just laziness. It’s not that hard to do either. They could have had Eat Economically, or Consume Consciously, or Scoff Stringently. And then there’s that dreaded ‘4’. Trying to be all cool and trendy are we? Knob off. You’re the government. You’re not supposed to be cool and trendy. You supposed to be steadfast and wise and not subject to pathetic (and irritating) little fads. If the government really wanted to be ‘down with the people’ we’d have had an election already. If you’re gonna run a country, at least know how to speak its language.
Clearly the government thinks that the people it’s talking to are too stupid to be given proper English. Or maybe they don’t want to use words that might be too ‘difficult’ for all those poor little mites out there who just *sniff sniff* don’t know how to look after themselves.
The people who made that advert must have a pretty low opinion of the population of Great Britain. We all need to be told that exercise is good for you, spending your entire life sat on the sofa eating chocolate is not so good and being unhealthy gives you a worse quality of life. And what’s worse is this opinion is spreading. Now the comfortably off middle classes, who even in this recession can afford organic vegetable and fat free tofu, are convinced that we’re over run with obese, ignorant snobs and jeer and pity those on council estates who can’t shop at Waitrose not because capitalism has given them a dud hand, but because they’re too stupid to know what to feed themselves. Being a university student I'm exposed to this point of view a lot and every time someone espouses it I want to punch them.
The new one is the worst. It actually sits there and tells people how to look after their kids. People jump up and down when an issue like increased tax breaks for single parents comes up. The Nanny State has gotten too big! Well, this really is the Nanny State. Looking after the next generation because, clearly, we cannot.
And the science is dodgy. That advert claims with pride that deposits of fat in the body can lead to cancer. The dreaded ‘C’ word. One of those words that silences debate dead in its tracks with its taboo connotations. Can’t argue with it. it causes cancer. Except it doesn’t. The links between obesity and cancer and tenuous to say the least. Most scientists agree that it’s a classic case of correlation not causation. People who are more likely to be overweight are also more likely to smoke, live in substandard housing and work in jobs that expose them to things like cleaning products and asbestos dust. You know, things that have a much sounder scientific link to cancer.
But ultimately this represents the loss of free choice. You’re not allowed to eat what you want. You’re not allowed to feed and bring up your kids how you want. You must live exactly the way we tell you too.
Not that I'm not supporting healthy lifestyles, I just think that there’s been a convenient lack of acknowledgment that there’s more than one way to be healthy coupled with an almost Orwellian desire to keep the general public in check. As far as I'm concerned there’s only two people who can tell you whether you live a healthy lifestyle or not, you and your doctor.
Change4Life, fuck off!
Peace and love to everyone else x
Recently I have been confronted by, what I think, is easily the worst advert ever. It’s one that most people think is pretty inoffensive as well. It’s one that people sit back and think oh, isn’t that kind! It’s very informative and could be potentially averting the health crisis that we are told is imminent every waking hour of our lives. Yep, it’s that odious, smug, self satisfied rant to free choice that is EAT LESS, MOVE MORE, LIVE LONGER. Change4Life.
Before we move onto anything overtly political I need to point out the grammatical problems. I need to, OK? Just let it go. They couldn’t be bothered to keep the alliteration going through all three of the slogans. That’s just laziness. It’s not that hard to do either. They could have had Eat Economically, or Consume Consciously, or Scoff Stringently. And then there’s that dreaded ‘4’. Trying to be all cool and trendy are we? Knob off. You’re the government. You’re not supposed to be cool and trendy. You supposed to be steadfast and wise and not subject to pathetic (and irritating) little fads. If the government really wanted to be ‘down with the people’ we’d have had an election already. If you’re gonna run a country, at least know how to speak its language.
Clearly the government thinks that the people it’s talking to are too stupid to be given proper English. Or maybe they don’t want to use words that might be too ‘difficult’ for all those poor little mites out there who just *sniff sniff* don’t know how to look after themselves.
The people who made that advert must have a pretty low opinion of the population of Great Britain. We all need to be told that exercise is good for you, spending your entire life sat on the sofa eating chocolate is not so good and being unhealthy gives you a worse quality of life. And what’s worse is this opinion is spreading. Now the comfortably off middle classes, who even in this recession can afford organic vegetable and fat free tofu, are convinced that we’re over run with obese, ignorant snobs and jeer and pity those on council estates who can’t shop at Waitrose not because capitalism has given them a dud hand, but because they’re too stupid to know what to feed themselves. Being a university student I'm exposed to this point of view a lot and every time someone espouses it I want to punch them.
The new one is the worst. It actually sits there and tells people how to look after their kids. People jump up and down when an issue like increased tax breaks for single parents comes up. The Nanny State has gotten too big! Well, this really is the Nanny State. Looking after the next generation because, clearly, we cannot.
And the science is dodgy. That advert claims with pride that deposits of fat in the body can lead to cancer. The dreaded ‘C’ word. One of those words that silences debate dead in its tracks with its taboo connotations. Can’t argue with it. it causes cancer. Except it doesn’t. The links between obesity and cancer and tenuous to say the least. Most scientists agree that it’s a classic case of correlation not causation. People who are more likely to be overweight are also more likely to smoke, live in substandard housing and work in jobs that expose them to things like cleaning products and asbestos dust. You know, things that have a much sounder scientific link to cancer.
But ultimately this represents the loss of free choice. You’re not allowed to eat what you want. You’re not allowed to feed and bring up your kids how you want. You must live exactly the way we tell you too.
Not that I'm not supporting healthy lifestyles, I just think that there’s been a convenient lack of acknowledgment that there’s more than one way to be healthy coupled with an almost Orwellian desire to keep the general public in check. As far as I'm concerned there’s only two people who can tell you whether you live a healthy lifestyle or not, you and your doctor.
Change4Life, fuck off!
Peace and love to everyone else x
4 November 2009
A Sickening Attack in Sheffield
I've just read a blog posted from the Sophie Lancaster Foundation's MySpace page. A woman was attacked on her wedding day simply because a few random twats didn't like the way she was dressed.
This is absolutely appauling. What on earth did those idiots feel gave them the right to first pass judgement on this poor woman and then proceed to physically assualt her? What kind of insecure moron enjoys ruining other people's wedding days?
Please click on the blog title for the full article or go to www.myspace.com/inmemoryofsophie
This is absolutely appauling. What on earth did those idiots feel gave them the right to first pass judgement on this poor woman and then proceed to physically assualt her? What kind of insecure moron enjoys ruining other people's wedding days?
Please click on the blog title for the full article or go to www.myspace.com/inmemoryofsophie
3 November 2009
The Most Random Weekend in the History of Humanity
I didn’t rant or tell you anything vaguely useful last week principally because I wasn’t here. I was chilling out in a little cottage up in Northumbria. Chilling being an appropriate word. It was very cold, and very windy, but it was nice to have a little relax. I also had a birthday while I was up there. Twenty one. Now I'm a fully functioning social adult in old money as well as new.
I don’t want to be accused of false advertising so I better get on with telling you about the Most Random Weekend in the History of Humanity. OK, maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggerated claim, but it was a lot of fun. There’s probably a fair few blogs floating out there in there in the mists of the internet describing various incomparably fun Whitby Gothic Weekends had by folks up and down the country, so I’ll spare you a blow by blow account of the entire four days of debauchery. That, and I didn’t really do much in the way of ‘official’ stuff (Sexy Sunday and saw two bands in the Res on Saturday. Well...kind of saw them) so I’ll leave the people who were actually there to tell you about the good stuff. I think the easiest way to do this will be a list of the incidents that made the weekend so much fun.
1. On the Thursday night I had a genuine ‘wardrobe malfunction’. My friend decided that my corset wasn’t laced up tightly enough to tightened it up for me, and snapped the cord. So before everything came flying out I legged it into a shop doorway for some damage limitation. Now being left with a much shorter cord I couldn’t lace up the top or bottom two eyelets so I was nowhere near as secure and spend the rest of the evening paranoid that the girls were going to make a bit for freedom.
2. My friend got attacked by a bat. How goth is that? She did not, however, cradle it gently, pat it on the head and whisper some Poe to it. Instead she shrieked and whacked it. I’ll be having some of those goth points back then. This is after she fell of a step and managed to take a photo mid flight (keep watching Facebook) and before my other friend fell down some different steps. I didn’t fall down steps, although I deserved it after laughing at the others. I did fall off a bed though.
3. The next day we ran into Random Hug Guy who was so famous he’d taken on an apprentice. The apprentice had the honour of wearing a sign around his neck proudly proclaiming the legend FREE HUGS. We gave them their hugs and then they decided to do an experiment. Would putting the sign on a girl increase the number of received hugs? So then I was wearing the sign and I did, actually, get more hugs. And some random guy who whipped me with seaweed. And someone else who yelled down the cliff top to his mate; ‘I've found a girl for you!’ I hid after that.
4. We went to the Res to see Uninvited Guest. They really were rather good, but it was too hot in there so we spent most of the night sat in the corridor by the ladies’ toilets. Then I lay down because I was tired and we had another five minutes of fame as people started taking pictures. Those were the ones who didn’t think I'd fainted.
5. Then it was the turn of the Creepy Guy. We had the honour of having the hotel room next to his. He introduces himself to people by asking if they like cake and then explaining that he makes friends by offering them cake. No one wants cake for breakfast. Few people want conversation at breakfast. He seemed to be providing an abundance of both. Then he started following the poor girls who worked in the hotel around. Then he came back so drunk that they had to call the police. I missed the last bit as I was actually doing something organised (Sexy Sunday) so my poor roommate was on her own.
6. Dancing the Macarena to the Sisters of Mercy. Hell yeah!
We also seemed to spend a disproportionate amount of time wandering around (in silly feet aching boots) looking for food, and it took a long time for the poor guy working at the Shambles on Friday night to get our drinks order right. We did, however, discover the joys of Archers and
Coke. Not a patch on Sourz and coke though.
A good weekend was had by all! Bring on New Year!
Peace and Love x
I don’t want to be accused of false advertising so I better get on with telling you about the Most Random Weekend in the History of Humanity. OK, maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggerated claim, but it was a lot of fun. There’s probably a fair few blogs floating out there in there in the mists of the internet describing various incomparably fun Whitby Gothic Weekends had by folks up and down the country, so I’ll spare you a blow by blow account of the entire four days of debauchery. That, and I didn’t really do much in the way of ‘official’ stuff (Sexy Sunday and saw two bands in the Res on Saturday. Well...kind of saw them) so I’ll leave the people who were actually there to tell you about the good stuff. I think the easiest way to do this will be a list of the incidents that made the weekend so much fun.
1. On the Thursday night I had a genuine ‘wardrobe malfunction’. My friend decided that my corset wasn’t laced up tightly enough to tightened it up for me, and snapped the cord. So before everything came flying out I legged it into a shop doorway for some damage limitation. Now being left with a much shorter cord I couldn’t lace up the top or bottom two eyelets so I was nowhere near as secure and spend the rest of the evening paranoid that the girls were going to make a bit for freedom.
2. My friend got attacked by a bat. How goth is that? She did not, however, cradle it gently, pat it on the head and whisper some Poe to it. Instead she shrieked and whacked it. I’ll be having some of those goth points back then. This is after she fell of a step and managed to take a photo mid flight (keep watching Facebook) and before my other friend fell down some different steps. I didn’t fall down steps, although I deserved it after laughing at the others. I did fall off a bed though.
3. The next day we ran into Random Hug Guy who was so famous he’d taken on an apprentice. The apprentice had the honour of wearing a sign around his neck proudly proclaiming the legend FREE HUGS. We gave them their hugs and then they decided to do an experiment. Would putting the sign on a girl increase the number of received hugs? So then I was wearing the sign and I did, actually, get more hugs. And some random guy who whipped me with seaweed. And someone else who yelled down the cliff top to his mate; ‘I've found a girl for you!’ I hid after that.
4. We went to the Res to see Uninvited Guest. They really were rather good, but it was too hot in there so we spent most of the night sat in the corridor by the ladies’ toilets. Then I lay down because I was tired and we had another five minutes of fame as people started taking pictures. Those were the ones who didn’t think I'd fainted.
5. Then it was the turn of the Creepy Guy. We had the honour of having the hotel room next to his. He introduces himself to people by asking if they like cake and then explaining that he makes friends by offering them cake. No one wants cake for breakfast. Few people want conversation at breakfast. He seemed to be providing an abundance of both. Then he started following the poor girls who worked in the hotel around. Then he came back so drunk that they had to call the police. I missed the last bit as I was actually doing something organised (Sexy Sunday) so my poor roommate was on her own.
6. Dancing the Macarena to the Sisters of Mercy. Hell yeah!
We also seemed to spend a disproportionate amount of time wandering around (in silly feet aching boots) looking for food, and it took a long time for the poor guy working at the Shambles on Friday night to get our drinks order right. We did, however, discover the joys of Archers and
Coke. Not a patch on Sourz and coke though.
A good weekend was had by all! Bring on New Year!
Peace and Love x
19 October 2009
VNV Nation, Ayria and the Shouty German Blokes at the Corporation, Sheffield
I got off the train in Sheffield yesterday to a grey autumn day. It was bitterly cold and quite quiet for a bustling city. My tram ride up to my hotel took me past streets of closed shops and people huddled up in various winter accoutrements. This sounds like the start of a horror story, but it really isn’t, it was just the less than hospitable climate that greeted me. Usually I'm a big fan of Sheffield, but it was pretty chilly yesterday.
When I got to my hotel the staff were nice and the place was warm. I ate some weird sandwich concoction on pinky red bread and went upstairs to make my hair go into cyber style Princess Leia bunches with fake dreads, ribbons and goggles. It took as long as it sounds.
Now onto the interesting bit; the gig itself. Aside from getting lost for about five minutes on the way down to the venue (I'd only been there once before, and it was coming from the other side of the city centre, alright?) I made it in good time to collect my ticket and stake out a place with both a good view and away from all routes to the bar. I failed at both. Oh well.
Ayria, the first support act, started early, so I was still trying to buy a copy of their excellent album Hearts for Bullets (shameless plug no. 1) when they came on stage. It’s difficult for a band with only two members to have a stage presence, even more so when supporting someone as big as VNV Nation, but I thought they rose to the challenge admirably. After a few PA issues made Ayria herself’s voice a bit hard to hear for the first two songs or so they picked up and delivered well with their interesting and unusual combination of slamming industrial dance beats and sugary sweet female vocals. Fans of Octolab and Angelspit take note (shameless plug no.2). I also had the pleasure of meeting Ayria afterwards. She was very nice and seemed genuinely touched by my compliments. I can’t wait to see her again when she supports the Cruxshadows next month (shameless plug no. 3. I really, really like these guys, although still not sure if the other bloke was there just for the live set and it’s an ‘official’ part of the band....)
Then the second support act came on. They weren’t terrible exactly, just a bit generic. There’s a lot of shouty EBM songs in German doing the rounds and although there’s a few stonkers out there, these guys didn’t have any of them. I don’t remember their name and I spent most of their set smoking outside, so I don’t really feel like commenting on them.
VNV Nation themselves were absolutely fantastic. They came armed with quite a long set (I was too busy watching the funky light shows to check my watch, but they played for at least ninety minutes) but never lost momentum. Ronan had a real connection with the audience and although I'd heard some complaints that he talks too much I found him really amusing. I think my favourite bit was when they took the glow sticks that had been chucked onto the stage and hung them in a pretty little pattern on the ‘drum module.’ The crowd didn’t seem to get tired either. If anything the longer the band played the more hyper and into it everyone got. They stomped through my favourite song (‘Chrome’) quite early in the set but I didn’t really mind. Even the songs I didn’t know very well I was singing along with by the end. At the encore the band seemed genuinely overwhelmed to hear the crowd chanting VNV! VNV! at them and the finale of ‘Perpetual’ (another firm favourite of mine) with officially the longest sing song end ever was incredible. It sounds cheesy to say but there seemed a real connection both between band and audience and the individual audience members. Although the Corporation is a relatively large venue the gig felt wonderfully intimate.
Afterwards it was a few drinks at the after party followed by an intrepid expedition to see what Sheffield has to offer on a Sunday night. Not much apparently. We convinced on bar to give us a drink despite it being two minutes before closing time and bumped into some incredibly drunk students, one of which wanted to lick my goggles. There was so much dancing going on in the Corp that there was sweat dripping from the ceiling, so the poor lad probably picked up a dose of something nasty, that is if he can feel it through the hangover. I surfaced in the morning rather easily. Probably something to do with the world famour Harley Hotel full English breakfasts.
All in all a wonderful night! I'd never seen any of the bands before but, aside from the Shouty German Blokes, everyone put on a fantastic show and I urge anyone who gets the chance to go see.
Peace and love x
P.S. No blog next week. I'm on my jollies. They're might be a double blog the week after though. I'll see what state I'm in after WGW.
When I got to my hotel the staff were nice and the place was warm. I ate some weird sandwich concoction on pinky red bread and went upstairs to make my hair go into cyber style Princess Leia bunches with fake dreads, ribbons and goggles. It took as long as it sounds.
Now onto the interesting bit; the gig itself. Aside from getting lost for about five minutes on the way down to the venue (I'd only been there once before, and it was coming from the other side of the city centre, alright?) I made it in good time to collect my ticket and stake out a place with both a good view and away from all routes to the bar. I failed at both. Oh well.
Ayria, the first support act, started early, so I was still trying to buy a copy of their excellent album Hearts for Bullets (shameless plug no. 1) when they came on stage. It’s difficult for a band with only two members to have a stage presence, even more so when supporting someone as big as VNV Nation, but I thought they rose to the challenge admirably. After a few PA issues made Ayria herself’s voice a bit hard to hear for the first two songs or so they picked up and delivered well with their interesting and unusual combination of slamming industrial dance beats and sugary sweet female vocals. Fans of Octolab and Angelspit take note (shameless plug no.2). I also had the pleasure of meeting Ayria afterwards. She was very nice and seemed genuinely touched by my compliments. I can’t wait to see her again when she supports the Cruxshadows next month (shameless plug no. 3. I really, really like these guys, although still not sure if the other bloke was there just for the live set and it’s an ‘official’ part of the band....)
Then the second support act came on. They weren’t terrible exactly, just a bit generic. There’s a lot of shouty EBM songs in German doing the rounds and although there’s a few stonkers out there, these guys didn’t have any of them. I don’t remember their name and I spent most of their set smoking outside, so I don’t really feel like commenting on them.
VNV Nation themselves were absolutely fantastic. They came armed with quite a long set (I was too busy watching the funky light shows to check my watch, but they played for at least ninety minutes) but never lost momentum. Ronan had a real connection with the audience and although I'd heard some complaints that he talks too much I found him really amusing. I think my favourite bit was when they took the glow sticks that had been chucked onto the stage and hung them in a pretty little pattern on the ‘drum module.’ The crowd didn’t seem to get tired either. If anything the longer the band played the more hyper and into it everyone got. They stomped through my favourite song (‘Chrome’) quite early in the set but I didn’t really mind. Even the songs I didn’t know very well I was singing along with by the end. At the encore the band seemed genuinely overwhelmed to hear the crowd chanting VNV! VNV! at them and the finale of ‘Perpetual’ (another firm favourite of mine) with officially the longest sing song end ever was incredible. It sounds cheesy to say but there seemed a real connection both between band and audience and the individual audience members. Although the Corporation is a relatively large venue the gig felt wonderfully intimate.
Afterwards it was a few drinks at the after party followed by an intrepid expedition to see what Sheffield has to offer on a Sunday night. Not much apparently. We convinced on bar to give us a drink despite it being two minutes before closing time and bumped into some incredibly drunk students, one of which wanted to lick my goggles. There was so much dancing going on in the Corp that there was sweat dripping from the ceiling, so the poor lad probably picked up a dose of something nasty, that is if he can feel it through the hangover. I surfaced in the morning rather easily. Probably something to do with the world famour Harley Hotel full English breakfasts.
All in all a wonderful night! I'd never seen any of the bands before but, aside from the Shouty German Blokes, everyone put on a fantastic show and I urge anyone who gets the chance to go see.
Peace and love x
P.S. No blog next week. I'm on my jollies. They're might be a double blog the week after though. I'll see what state I'm in after WGW.
12 October 2009
'Alternative' Models
So, Bizarre Magazine, a publication very keen on showing their alternative credentials at every opportunity, have ended their search for a cover star. They picked, out of the no doubt thousands of entrants, a slim, conventionally pretty girl who then celebrated her success by getting topless and lounging around a set in provocative positions for the winner’s photo shoot.
And well done to her. I'm not saying that being a model is easy. This is not a personal attack on her. She is a beautiful young lady and I wish her every success in the modelling career that she will no doubt now embark upon.
Nor is it an attack on Bizarre, although I will be drawing a lot of examples from them simply because I do actually read the magazine.
This is more of a wonder if alternative modelling in general is, well, all that alternative really.
Let’s start with what I see to be the main components of ‘mainstream’ modelling. The models are skinny to the point of being unwell. They are that kind of inoffensive, homogenised ‘pretty’ (they can’t be too striking if they’re trying to sell a product. It detracts from whatever it is they’re meant to be advertising). They are very, very sexualised.
All these are massive generalisations of course, but they are also the themes I notice the most in commercial modelling shots, and the ones that irk me the most.
Alternative modelling is meant to be a departure from this. Those who peddle these images often spout rhetoric against ‘blonde bimbos’ and ‘stick thin models’, but are the images actually all that different?
Most commercial alternative modelling (flyers, clothes modelling, the ones that end up in Bizarre) seem pretty similar to me. A vast, vast majority are slim, if not clinically chronically underweight. All the finalists for the Bizarre competition appeared to be no bigger than a size twelve. Very few of the girls I've seen on flyers would fill my bras. There are one or two examples, like the delightful April Flores who has graced Bizarre’s cover twice, who are bootylicious lassies, damn proud of it and look mighty lush while doing it. But they are still very much a minority. The ‘celebration’ around plus size model is testament to their rarity.
And then there’s the inoffensive looks. Inoffensive? I hear you question. But what about the ones with tattoos and piercings in leather corsets? Well, have you noticed that under their tattoos, piercings and pink hair they have very feminine, classically beautiful faces? If anything I'd say that there’s more pressure to appear feminine in alternative modelling than in mainstream shoots, perhaps as a combatant against the masculine body modification so many of them sport.
And now for the biggie; the very blatant sexualisation of these women. Really, does a woman have to be topless to be beautiful? Apparently so. There is so much scope out there, and many models use it to its full extent , to be artistic, but the commercial shots revert time and time again to an overly sexualised type. Putting a young woman in a leather corset and draping her over a tombstone does not make an image and less sexual that a playboy bunny in a bra and panties on a four poster bed.
Many would maintain that the various alternative scenes are a ‘safe space’ for women, but from where I'm standing it looks as if women are expected to be sexual objects for the camera just as much as anywhere else.
There’s some pretty heavy gender bias going on as well. Male alternative models are rare and those that are out there do not get anywhere even close the same exposure as their female counterparts. I'd be prepared to bet that proportionally there are less male alternative than male mainstream models. Is it because half naked men don’t shift the same number of copies as half naked women? Bizarre would seem to think so. I don’t remember there being a single male cover model in my entire four year readership of the magazine. Oh, and all of the shoots are sexualised to some extent even if it isn’t out and out nudity.
Sure this is putting the same pressures on girls in the alternative scenes as those involved more heavily in mainstream culture (God, I hate that word!)?
But, to end on a positive note, there are models out there who create wonderful artistic shots that don’t rely on distorted sexuality. Two very talented lassies are Lethal Gem and Violet Magenta. Go have a look see and get a flavour of what alternative modelling could be if it just dared to be a little more alternative.
http://www.myspace.com/violet_magenta_modelling
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/LethalGem
Peace and love xx
And well done to her. I'm not saying that being a model is easy. This is not a personal attack on her. She is a beautiful young lady and I wish her every success in the modelling career that she will no doubt now embark upon.
Nor is it an attack on Bizarre, although I will be drawing a lot of examples from them simply because I do actually read the magazine.
This is more of a wonder if alternative modelling in general is, well, all that alternative really.
Let’s start with what I see to be the main components of ‘mainstream’ modelling. The models are skinny to the point of being unwell. They are that kind of inoffensive, homogenised ‘pretty’ (they can’t be too striking if they’re trying to sell a product. It detracts from whatever it is they’re meant to be advertising). They are very, very sexualised.
All these are massive generalisations of course, but they are also the themes I notice the most in commercial modelling shots, and the ones that irk me the most.
Alternative modelling is meant to be a departure from this. Those who peddle these images often spout rhetoric against ‘blonde bimbos’ and ‘stick thin models’, but are the images actually all that different?
Most commercial alternative modelling (flyers, clothes modelling, the ones that end up in Bizarre) seem pretty similar to me. A vast, vast majority are slim, if not clinically chronically underweight. All the finalists for the Bizarre competition appeared to be no bigger than a size twelve. Very few of the girls I've seen on flyers would fill my bras. There are one or two examples, like the delightful April Flores who has graced Bizarre’s cover twice, who are bootylicious lassies, damn proud of it and look mighty lush while doing it. But they are still very much a minority. The ‘celebration’ around plus size model is testament to their rarity.
And then there’s the inoffensive looks. Inoffensive? I hear you question. But what about the ones with tattoos and piercings in leather corsets? Well, have you noticed that under their tattoos, piercings and pink hair they have very feminine, classically beautiful faces? If anything I'd say that there’s more pressure to appear feminine in alternative modelling than in mainstream shoots, perhaps as a combatant against the masculine body modification so many of them sport.
And now for the biggie; the very blatant sexualisation of these women. Really, does a woman have to be topless to be beautiful? Apparently so. There is so much scope out there, and many models use it to its full extent , to be artistic, but the commercial shots revert time and time again to an overly sexualised type. Putting a young woman in a leather corset and draping her over a tombstone does not make an image and less sexual that a playboy bunny in a bra and panties on a four poster bed.
Many would maintain that the various alternative scenes are a ‘safe space’ for women, but from where I'm standing it looks as if women are expected to be sexual objects for the camera just as much as anywhere else.
There’s some pretty heavy gender bias going on as well. Male alternative models are rare and those that are out there do not get anywhere even close the same exposure as their female counterparts. I'd be prepared to bet that proportionally there are less male alternative than male mainstream models. Is it because half naked men don’t shift the same number of copies as half naked women? Bizarre would seem to think so. I don’t remember there being a single male cover model in my entire four year readership of the magazine. Oh, and all of the shoots are sexualised to some extent even if it isn’t out and out nudity.
Sure this is putting the same pressures on girls in the alternative scenes as those involved more heavily in mainstream culture (God, I hate that word!)?
But, to end on a positive note, there are models out there who create wonderful artistic shots that don’t rely on distorted sexuality. Two very talented lassies are Lethal Gem and Violet Magenta. Go have a look see and get a flavour of what alternative modelling could be if it just dared to be a little more alternative.
http://www.myspace.com/violet_magenta_modelling
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/LethalGem
Peace and love xx
5 October 2009
The Anti-Football League
Anyone know who Steve Jones is? No, not that Steve Jones, the other Steve Jones. Steve Jones the geneticist and all round smart cookie. Well, anyway, he was on the radio at the beginning of the week (so I'm told, didn’t catch it myself) and one of the things he commented on was those drawings you get that are meant to illustrate man’s evolution from chimps. You know, the ones that start with a chimp, then go onto a more upright chimp, then a hunched over man, then an upright ‘modern’ man?
The way Jones described these was ‘starting with an Arsenal supporter and ending with a guy walking into the British library’ or something remarkably similar. Now, I'm pretty sure that Jones was joking and didn’t intend to directly insult every Arsenal fan walking (or knuckle dragging according to some) the planet. But it was quite interesting to see how football fans are seen by certain sections of society, and it got me thinking.
Football fans come in all shapes and sizes. I know people who stack shelves in Wilkinsons and people who spend their days preparing lectures for Russell Group universities who are avid fans of football. Yet so often they are all grouped together into one baying, swearing, scarf wielding bunch. Anyone who’s been to a football will have seen clearly that not everyone is yelling abuse at the opposition, trying to strangle the ref and/or invade the pitch.
Obviously this is a caricature, but perhaps a potentially dangerous one. By treating every football match as a riot waiting to happen you’re antagonising the fans who just want to go along to watch the match and giving those few likely to cause trouble something to rail against.
Jones’ worlds also highlight the image that people extend to football fans beyond the stadium. They’re uneducated. They’re less sophisticated. They’re not as evolved as, say, someone who’d rather spend their Saturday afternoons in the British library. This is quite clearly not the case, but say ‘football fan’ to most people and they see only a drunk, rude, working class bloke in last season’s shirt.
Note the description. There’s become a nasty class dimension to the demonization of football fans. Football is seen as a working class hobby, not something the educated upper echelons waste their precious time on. The inextricable connection between football and the working classes cast Jones’ comment in an even more uneasy light.
This in turn hints at the way in which working class people (or ‘The Underclass’ as they’re known in some sections of the gutter press) are shown in the media. I can’t quite work out if this is an attempt to keep those who see themselves at the top at the top, the public distaste some people feel it’s acceptable to display towards certain lifestyles or an attempt to ignore the problems faced by the poorer people in Britain. But that really is twisting the logic. Not much about football can really be read into that. They just might be symptoms of the same problem.
I'm not defending the often antisocial and aggressive behaviour of some football fans, but I am emphasising that it is ‘some’. I was unlucky enough to be trying to get home from work when Glasgow Rangers were playing in Manchester and reportedly ‘wrecked’ the city. The actual damage sustained is still squabbled about, but every football fan I met that day was friendly and excited about seeing their team in a European game. They are not all hooligans and, as said above, it’s only counterproductive to treat them as such.
I'm not demonising Steve Jones for a throw away comment either. We all make them, and sometimes they’re pretty funny, I just felt like exploring the social view behind it. Alright, I know he wasn’t targeting ‘all’ football fans, just those unfortunate enough to be following Arsenal, but he could have made the same comment about any premier league club in the country with the same effect.
That’s the end of my musings, but I would like to now state that I am not, nor have I ever been a football fan just in case anyone was wondering (hence still calling Arsenal’s division the ‘Premier League’. I don’t know its new name). When I was little my Dad used to take me to see Leeds United. That’s probably why I never got into the game.
Peace and Love x
The way Jones described these was ‘starting with an Arsenal supporter and ending with a guy walking into the British library’ or something remarkably similar. Now, I'm pretty sure that Jones was joking and didn’t intend to directly insult every Arsenal fan walking (or knuckle dragging according to some) the planet. But it was quite interesting to see how football fans are seen by certain sections of society, and it got me thinking.
Football fans come in all shapes and sizes. I know people who stack shelves in Wilkinsons and people who spend their days preparing lectures for Russell Group universities who are avid fans of football. Yet so often they are all grouped together into one baying, swearing, scarf wielding bunch. Anyone who’s been to a football will have seen clearly that not everyone is yelling abuse at the opposition, trying to strangle the ref and/or invade the pitch.
Obviously this is a caricature, but perhaps a potentially dangerous one. By treating every football match as a riot waiting to happen you’re antagonising the fans who just want to go along to watch the match and giving those few likely to cause trouble something to rail against.
Jones’ worlds also highlight the image that people extend to football fans beyond the stadium. They’re uneducated. They’re less sophisticated. They’re not as evolved as, say, someone who’d rather spend their Saturday afternoons in the British library. This is quite clearly not the case, but say ‘football fan’ to most people and they see only a drunk, rude, working class bloke in last season’s shirt.
Note the description. There’s become a nasty class dimension to the demonization of football fans. Football is seen as a working class hobby, not something the educated upper echelons waste their precious time on. The inextricable connection between football and the working classes cast Jones’ comment in an even more uneasy light.
This in turn hints at the way in which working class people (or ‘The Underclass’ as they’re known in some sections of the gutter press) are shown in the media. I can’t quite work out if this is an attempt to keep those who see themselves at the top at the top, the public distaste some people feel it’s acceptable to display towards certain lifestyles or an attempt to ignore the problems faced by the poorer people in Britain. But that really is twisting the logic. Not much about football can really be read into that. They just might be symptoms of the same problem.
I'm not defending the often antisocial and aggressive behaviour of some football fans, but I am emphasising that it is ‘some’. I was unlucky enough to be trying to get home from work when Glasgow Rangers were playing in Manchester and reportedly ‘wrecked’ the city. The actual damage sustained is still squabbled about, but every football fan I met that day was friendly and excited about seeing their team in a European game. They are not all hooligans and, as said above, it’s only counterproductive to treat them as such.
I'm not demonising Steve Jones for a throw away comment either. We all make them, and sometimes they’re pretty funny, I just felt like exploring the social view behind it. Alright, I know he wasn’t targeting ‘all’ football fans, just those unfortunate enough to be following Arsenal, but he could have made the same comment about any premier league club in the country with the same effect.
That’s the end of my musings, but I would like to now state that I am not, nor have I ever been a football fan just in case anyone was wondering (hence still calling Arsenal’s division the ‘Premier League’. I don’t know its new name). When I was little my Dad used to take me to see Leeds United. That’s probably why I never got into the game.
Peace and Love x
4 October 2009
How to use your Fluffy Little Ball of Hate
Hello World!
I've been doing the odd bit of blogging hither and thither from my MySpace page for about two years now, but I thought it would make more sense to move my musings on the world to a site more blog-centric. So I found one that is entirely devoted to the things. Can't get more blog-centric than that.
As it says in the description I chat crap about anything and everything. If ever something irritates me or offends me, it ends up getting ranted about online. If I go to a gig or find a fantastic book, film or yummy little tidbit on the web that I think the whole world should be aware of, it goes online too. If I end up going somewhere interesting I end up typing frantically about that.
But, with a proper blog comes proper responsiblity. I'm aiming to chat crap at least once a week (not often I know, but I like to keep some ghost of a life functioning offline) and if I see something that inspires me into a four page think then I'll let ya'll know what it was that sparked off my little thought train the process.
So, how to use the Fluffy Little Ball of Hate. Well, step one, read some of it. Then comment if it gets a reaction out of you. If it doesn't then leave and do something more worthwhile with your life. Similarly, if what you read makes you think of something, or you think I've blatently plagerised something or entirely missed the point and you know someone with aim so good they could hit a milk bottle and four miles with a fishing catapult then let me know. Comments are wonderful things.
Peace and Love x
I've been doing the odd bit of blogging hither and thither from my MySpace page for about two years now, but I thought it would make more sense to move my musings on the world to a site more blog-centric. So I found one that is entirely devoted to the things. Can't get more blog-centric than that.
As it says in the description I chat crap about anything and everything. If ever something irritates me or offends me, it ends up getting ranted about online. If I go to a gig or find a fantastic book, film or yummy little tidbit on the web that I think the whole world should be aware of, it goes online too. If I end up going somewhere interesting I end up typing frantically about that.
But, with a proper blog comes proper responsiblity. I'm aiming to chat crap at least once a week (not often I know, but I like to keep some ghost of a life functioning offline) and if I see something that inspires me into a four page think then I'll let ya'll know what it was that sparked off my little thought train the process.
So, how to use the Fluffy Little Ball of Hate. Well, step one, read some of it. Then comment if it gets a reaction out of you. If it doesn't then leave and do something more worthwhile with your life. Similarly, if what you read makes you think of something, or you think I've blatently plagerised something or entirely missed the point and you know someone with aim so good they could hit a milk bottle and four miles with a fishing catapult then let me know. Comments are wonderful things.
Peace and Love x
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