I first saw Interpol two years at Latitude festival and was blown away. There was a band with little commercial success, leading a crowd of thousands, in renditions of underappreciated seminal rock.
Inside Brixton Academy there is no pushing, no jostling for position, we sit on the floor with overpriced lager and talk without straining. Interpol bring with them a certain crowd, subdued till it matters. Two sell out nights here have preceded ours, which happens to be the last night of the European leg of their tour. I’ve been a fan for about five years now, but what always surprises me is the number of Interpol fans there are. The Band has had two UK top 20 singles in the last 8 years. On paper they barely warrant a supporting slot for an upcoming British indie Group. But they make Albums, not singles.
Surfer Blood support with one of the weirdest looking line-ups. These five guys look from the age of 14 to 28, A preppy sweater vest singer to; ‘hey, check out that weird drug guy over there’ percussionist. Strong catchy songs but working within a genre that’s getting a little tired. I get it, you know how time signatures work, that’s not an excuse to break out as many as possible, also if you’re going to scream, scream, but your lyrics should be strong enough not to warrant it.
Interpol have just released their forth (self titled) album, and open with their first track ‘Success’. The lights silhouette Paul Banks at centre stage while Daniel Kessler’s hypnotic guitar tone and dancing from the hips raise the crowd straight into an academy vocal lead performance of Say Hello To The Angels. A unique quality Interpol posses over other indie bands is their inherent coolness. It seeps from every stitch on Kesslers suit and every thud of Sam Fogarino’s Bass drum. They move within a limited personal space, Banks sometimes withdraws from the comfort zone only to stroll back in and release pitch perfect vocals.
What strikes me most about the new material though, is the size of it, I don’t mean the quantity, I mean the audible ‘epicness’. They have broken from the guitar riff lead ways of Antics and have settled into a kind of intelligent stadium anthem vibe. Backed up by their classic lighting show, and the acoustics of The Academy, it sets off a show worthy of The O2.
Finishing the Show with Obstacle one, probably their most widely known track, possibly due to its popularity among the skate crowd, of which I am, and on the night was not the only one in the room. They encore with NYC, a song, which in hindsight shows that the band had promise for anthems a long time before this Album.
Maybe one day Interpol will break the UK properly, but even if they don’t, the fan base and the music is still good enough to warrant their return to our shores for what will be another blinding show.
There can be only one
Picture the scene if you will, Saturday night, a drunken Mother, a best friend and the lodger. The wine is gone and there seems to be nothing else to do but play stupid games from "off of the tele". MR and MRS. The idea, team up and answer questions about your partner/team mate. Simple and fun and when all that's left to drink is the dregs of Christmas Crème de menthe, a good way to sober up.
Anyway, one of the questions that arose was what some might think quite easy, like picking your favourite colour? or remembering the name of your first pet. But not for me. this is the mother load of all questions, What is your favourite film ever?
Suddenly my mind turned into a film nerd proton accelerator, bits of film jargon smashing around inside my head, trying to comprehend the monumentalness off this question. Essentially, what one film would/could I watch for the rest of my life and never tire of it?
Straight away your manic frenzy tells you to draw up your list of classics, which ,if you are any type of real film nerd, should span the genres back and forth. From Horror to musical, Indie B movies to animation, no screen visionary rock should be left unturned until ones list is complete.
The next part is the hardest, who makes the final few. Trying to cut some films from your list is like dropping your own child from a father son three legged race. Its like "Hey, you were good, I just don't love you as much as my new son". But it’s for the greater good, those classic titles where weighing you down, you only kept them in cause it seemed like the right thing to do, shed no tears for loves lost.
And then you realise something, this question is impossible, it's on the level with "Who would you save from a fire, your mum or your dad?" it is literally that difficult, don’t judge me. The fact is there is not one film out there that has captured every human emotion and laid it bare on screen, many have been praised by millions, and many are seen to be that one or series of films, but the truth is I’m glad there isn‘t one. If there was that one film everyone adored and no one hated then what would be the point in film making anymore, we would have reached this art forms peak. The good thing I suppose is that this will never happen, there will always be films being made, if not for glory and praise but for self satisfaction.
I picked Withnail and I as my favourite, hence the picture at the top. It’s the closest you can get to a perfect film.
Anyway, one of the questions that arose was what some might think quite easy, like picking your favourite colour? or remembering the name of your first pet. But not for me. this is the mother load of all questions, What is your favourite film ever?
Suddenly my mind turned into a film nerd proton accelerator, bits of film jargon smashing around inside my head, trying to comprehend the monumentalness off this question. Essentially, what one film would/could I watch for the rest of my life and never tire of it?
Straight away your manic frenzy tells you to draw up your list of classics, which ,if you are any type of real film nerd, should span the genres back and forth. From Horror to musical, Indie B movies to animation, no screen visionary rock should be left unturned until ones list is complete.
The next part is the hardest, who makes the final few. Trying to cut some films from your list is like dropping your own child from a father son three legged race. Its like "Hey, you were good, I just don't love you as much as my new son". But it’s for the greater good, those classic titles where weighing you down, you only kept them in cause it seemed like the right thing to do, shed no tears for loves lost.
And then you realise something, this question is impossible, it's on the level with "Who would you save from a fire, your mum or your dad?" it is literally that difficult, don’t judge me. The fact is there is not one film out there that has captured every human emotion and laid it bare on screen, many have been praised by millions, and many are seen to be that one or series of films, but the truth is I’m glad there isn‘t one. If there was that one film everyone adored and no one hated then what would be the point in film making anymore, we would have reached this art forms peak. The good thing I suppose is that this will never happen, there will always be films being made, if not for glory and praise but for self satisfaction.
I picked Withnail and I as my favourite, hence the picture at the top. It’s the closest you can get to a perfect film.
New Charmless man
Blur once sang about the Charmless man. He was a being of no substance and no value "Educated the expensive way, He knows his claret from a Beaujolais" these being the trademarks of a social tosser. "He moves in circles of friends who just pretend that they like him, He does the same to them and when you put it all together there's the model of a charmless man".
The new wave of charmless man has all the hall marks of the old option but now presents himself a slight differently. Educated the expensive way is not so important as long as one gives the demeanour of education. The "geeks" have now become the class act, importing themselves into the arts with subtlety and now teaming up to empower the younger nerd. The problem arising is that with popularity comes hipsters (the new wave Charmless man), a person who latches lovingly on to the idea being a cool guy outcast, because a few years ago he was such.
He was not a nerd nor a geek, he was a run of the mill young man. Not popular but not as unpopular as said Geeks, but when the cool clock shifted towards geek chic o'clock the masses of basic teens jumped up a few pegs in hip.
What we have now is an explosion of average minded people trying to pull off intelligent dialectic processes. Groups of twenty somethings on their fixed gear bikes talking loosely about Wes Anderson being a demigod to existentialistic thought in cinema. Open bongo open mic nights. Chest cut T-shirts and big glasses. I enjoy talking, debating, shooting the shit on any level with any body about anything. Just don't let me over hear two people talking about epistemology with no understanding of the word.
Scenario: The basic street passing of two rival charmless gangs.
When approached by another group of familiar similar types, the first alpha hipster steps forward like a lion in the wild. He presents his mane of designer labels and with a flick of his fringe continues to blankly stare at his opponent. The second Alpha has no choice but to respond with a drastically unenthusiastic “sup” or variation of a slack greeting. If vocalised well enough and with enough Charmlessness the first Alpha can either walk away defeated or try one more move. The hardest move to play. Alpha one slips him the wet fish handshake and moves on without a hint of eye contact, victorious in being the biggest wang hole to grace Lewisham.
Why can't people just be nice
The new wave of charmless man has all the hall marks of the old option but now presents himself a slight differently. Educated the expensive way is not so important as long as one gives the demeanour of education. The "geeks" have now become the class act, importing themselves into the arts with subtlety and now teaming up to empower the younger nerd. The problem arising is that with popularity comes hipsters (the new wave Charmless man), a person who latches lovingly on to the idea being a cool guy outcast, because a few years ago he was such.
He was not a nerd nor a geek, he was a run of the mill young man. Not popular but not as unpopular as said Geeks, but when the cool clock shifted towards geek chic o'clock the masses of basic teens jumped up a few pegs in hip.
What we have now is an explosion of average minded people trying to pull off intelligent dialectic processes. Groups of twenty somethings on their fixed gear bikes talking loosely about Wes Anderson being a demigod to existentialistic thought in cinema. Open bongo open mic nights. Chest cut T-shirts and big glasses. I enjoy talking, debating, shooting the shit on any level with any body about anything. Just don't let me over hear two people talking about epistemology with no understanding of the word.
Scenario: The basic street passing of two rival charmless gangs.
When approached by another group of familiar similar types, the first alpha hipster steps forward like a lion in the wild. He presents his mane of designer labels and with a flick of his fringe continues to blankly stare at his opponent. The second Alpha has no choice but to respond with a drastically unenthusiastic “sup” or variation of a slack greeting. If vocalised well enough and with enough Charmlessness the first Alpha can either walk away defeated or try one more move. The hardest move to play. Alpha one slips him the wet fish handshake and moves on without a hint of eye contact, victorious in being the biggest wang hole to grace Lewisham.
Why can't people just be nice
The Social Plight.
The Social Network
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I hate you; from the bottom of my heart I hate you. You have got rich of exploiting peoples inability to enjoy they’re own company, and the F5 button. You have managed to change the world, for our generation at least, the generation of Internet addicts. (The loneliest addiction in the world, at least the 90’s had Heroin, that’s a real addiction) ¼ of people now socialise more online than in person. As I write I’m being distracted by the pop of hope. My self-confidence has been worn down by the ability to live my life through a web page. My likes dislikes and witty snipes are for all to see. The outside world scares me more than it did a year ago. But no worries, I have a farm at my hands so I don’t even need to go outside. And the fact that I’m shitting myself at the thought of human to human interaction only adds to the sensation that I’m right on the farm, amongst the slurry.
Dear Mr Zuckerberg, I hate you; from the bottom of my heart I hate you. You have got rich of exploiting peoples inability to enjoy they’re own company, and the F5 button. You have managed to change the world, for our generation at least, the generation of Internet addicts. (The loneliest addiction in the world, at least the 90’s had Heroin, that’s a real addiction) ¼ of people now socialise more online than in person. As I write I’m being distracted by the pop of hope. My self-confidence has been worn down by the ability to live my life through a web page. My likes dislikes and witty snipes are for all to see. The outside world scares me more than it did a year ago. But no worries, I have a farm at my hands so I don’t even need to go outside. And the fact that I’m shitting myself at the thought of human to human interaction only adds to the sensation that I’m right on the farm, amongst the slurry.
And if you thought Zukerberg wasn’t an arsehole, then you should watch Aaron Sorkins latest machine gun attack of dialogue, The Social Network. A film which spends it’s whole running time building up the Character of Zuckerberg as an arsehole, to finish with (and this isn’t a spoiler) someone telling him to stop trying to be such an arsehole. Maybe if they’d had hired an actor with a less cynical aura than Jesse Eienberg it could have raised his popularity? Maybe? But whats the old saying, you can’t polish a turd.
The figures do not lie. 500 million users worldwide is phenomenal growth for such a young company. But the quick release of this film could be seen as a film studios rebellion against Facebook, Or their lack of confidence in its longevity as a social medium. It is new, Facebook is only six years old, waiting for the demise in its popularity could have seen the studio loosing an idea, or the idea getting snapped up by a different producer.
But like Facebook the film left me feeling slightly empty. Did I enjoy myself yes, it was brilliantly scripted and beautifully shot. Was it pointless? Yes. For such a young company to have a biographical tale featuring a law suit which hasn’t even ended yet just seems a bit rushed, Like Justin Beibers Autobiography. You’re twelve Beiber, I don’t care.
Whether Facebook will carry on with its globalisation bid in unforeseeable, no one predicted the popularity of mobile phones, and no one thought house prices would crash. All I know is that I want my soul back. And while Facebook whores itself to me, I will not have it. Bugger it, Stick the Ethernet in my arm, I need another fix. “pop”
Maybe i'm a pleb?
University courses should all carry some form of credibility. I study Film and when people ask about it the usual response i hear is, "Is that a real Degree", then i drop the classic, "At least my course can be acted in a game of charades". Boom, win for hand movements. But I get it, Its no oxbridge English Degree. It is a course that is looked at with a certain disdain. When the well to do boys down the road are studying the in's and outs of Lady Chatterley's Lover, you all think we're sitting in the cinema, watching Transformers with our hands down our trousers. Not true. I fucking hate Transformers.
The black and blue of it is that film and cinema are an amazing topic to study. People seem to forget how much cinema can and has influenced the world, on a social level, a political ideological level, even to the point of changing big business protocol.
Will H. Hays famously wrote in his Hays Code of the 1930's. "If motion pictures present stories that will affect lives for the better, they can become the most powerful force for the improvement of mankind". This mantra has not been forgotten. Even with all the crap films that infiltrate the silver screen, some gems still poke through. An example i sometimes over use is that of Morgan Spurlocks 'Super Size Me'. A relatively low budget handy cam documentary highlighting the damaging effects the fast food industry has on the way we eat and the way advertising infiltrates our minds without our knowledge. That film, with all its self righteousness still managed to present a strong enough message that the corporate giants took note. The super size option was abolished from McDonald's, a health campaign amongst other fast food outlets sprung up, and a whole lot of senior management types got put in their place. Cinema is powerful.
People seem to forget how much film has had a role in their lives. From growing up with Disney Classics to being terrified by Freddy Kruger. This is just a reminder that my course will always be relevant whether you agree or not. Win for popcorn.
The black and blue of it is that film and cinema are an amazing topic to study. People seem to forget how much cinema can and has influenced the world, on a social level, a political ideological level, even to the point of changing big business protocol.
Will H. Hays famously wrote in his Hays Code of the 1930's. "If motion pictures present stories that will affect lives for the better, they can become the most powerful force for the improvement of mankind". This mantra has not been forgotten. Even with all the crap films that infiltrate the silver screen, some gems still poke through. An example i sometimes over use is that of Morgan Spurlocks 'Super Size Me'. A relatively low budget handy cam documentary highlighting the damaging effects the fast food industry has on the way we eat and the way advertising infiltrates our minds without our knowledge. That film, with all its self righteousness still managed to present a strong enough message that the corporate giants took note. The super size option was abolished from McDonald's, a health campaign amongst other fast food outlets sprung up, and a whole lot of senior management types got put in their place. Cinema is powerful.
People seem to forget how much film has had a role in their lives. From growing up with Disney Classics to being terrified by Freddy Kruger. This is just a reminder that my course will always be relevant whether you agree or not. Win for popcorn.
A weekend in Brighton
"Katy B looks like an Asda version of Lady Sov" and "Imagine when we had wives and kids. its gonna be shit".
Only a trip to Brighton and the "UNI MATE" amounts of Alcohol drowned could produce such fantastic one-liners like that.
Why Brighton? why not; simple, to see my mate Si settling into the fresher lifestyle in the country's famously gay hot spot. And now that being a second year has given me that smug satisfaction of telling freshers that they're pussies and showing them how to do it properly, getting to leave Greenwich and go and 'rave' it up amongst the spray on trouser elite in Brighton was never not going to happen. The arrogant, 'seen it all before' twaty second year came out in me and purchased to bangingly cheap tickets to see Katy B, Scratch Perverts and Emalkay at Concorde 2. woop woop.
Stepping off the train in Brighton, in all honesty, was not what i thought it would be like, where were the gay parades and bi-racial bisexual couples guffawing and falmboying down the street, this is nothing of the stereotypical landscape I had to come to expect from TV and hear say. The first thing that struck me is that my mate Si lives in the south Central of Brighton, The Avenue. But comparing those is not really like for like. Its a fight between Tyson and the strongest man in the village, "He lifted two cement bags down to old jess's farm t'other day, ohh he's a strapping chap"
After managing to Peeeeeel Si off the couch we went in toe down Brighton in the search for adventure. Two Guys, one girl and a pocket full of dreams, except these dreams had about a £30 quid limit on them so the first bar we hit was a drink and dash. I don't care how swanky you think your establishment is, £3:50 for a pint of Fosters makes me want to punch you. I'll give it its dues though, we did get to see a fight, or at least herds of squadies chase a guy out of the bar and down the road. West street style.
Onto the sea front, this must be the place where they hide the rainbow flags and house music. Noooo. Another avenue of piss, weird haircuts and the lingering stench of m-kat. Yummo. Bump into a few members of the ever growing Ipswich/Brighton invasion, Issac and Charlie. Into Coalition. Night goes blurry. Memory pin points a few fragile moments, Allie (female friend) and her attempts to become a club photographer, Allie, stealing a dudes hat, Allie, feeding me shots.
Saturday in Brighton; hangovers peaking about a 7, queasy, tired and headache but we’re powering through for ‘UNI’S’ sake. Onto the beach with pin prick eyes and an empty pocket of dreams. Pub? The lanes and ricki tickis. The lanes are buzzing with beautiful clean people, as myself, Allie and Si stink it up with our presence. So far Brighton has resembled not so much as an artistic sea side rescue, but as Barnsley/Hoxton on Sea. That is not to say that Barnsley is a shit hole and that Hoxton is Pretentious. But to be fair Barnsley is a shit hole and I’m sick of the Hipsters in Shoreditch.
An hour of Pub politics to build up your spirit and the slow travel back to the Avenue, where a spread of takeaway pizza and “Portuguese wine” is ready set out. Watching people get high and try to cast judgment on The X-Factor is slowly becoming one of my favorite past times.
“Nah mate there all auto tuned”
“So if they’re all auto tuned, why are the bad ones still bad and the good ones still good”
“…………pass me that”
I’m used to cueing before going into clubs, but my hat goes off to whichever spot ridden first time promoter set this gig up. No tickets, just reference codes, no clarity to whether there were tickets for sale, and a tumor like crowd of people hopping the fence at the front. Get in an hour a half later, Katy B in the main room in ten minutes. Grab a beer, bang a tequila, skank the night away. Perfect Stranger to Katy on a Mission. It’s 2am, but the 5ft firehouse that is little B keeps jumping. Scratch Perverts and Emalkay follow with two blinding sets. Exit the club about half four to the familiar sound of possible after party’s.
“M-kat numbers, M-kat numbers. Need K? need K?”. No, cause i know how these “party’s” go. And they’re shit.
Some might find it weird waking up in a house you don’t recognise, to walk down stairs and see your mates thrown on the sofas watching Takeshi’s Castle. I like it a lot. But I’m not hanging around. My final walk back through Brighton and the sun is beaming down. The weekend has been weird. Not a bad weird, just weird. Weird to see my mate Si in a uni atmosphere, weird to bump into some home town heroes, weird to think I had expected Brighton to be any different. Gay parades, there were none, but you can never escape “UNI MATE”
The Wire
Few channels produce the high calibre of shows that HBO does. It's private pay per view subscription means that the its programs are not held to the same rules and guidelines as other channels are. They have no Ad breaks and can afford to spend real money on producing brilliantly sculpted television, such as The Sopranos, and in this case, The Wire. The Wire focuses on the city of Baltimore's struggle with it's war on drugs through both the lives of the police officers and the criminals, but thanks to HBO's need for quality, it does more than that.
When you think of cop drama, the image of things like the Bill or Cagney and Lacey come to mind, programs where the cases are solved in one episode and the faux law is skimmed over in order for the recommended daily output of car chases. in 2002 The Wire in a very daring way broke that mold. It didn't assume that it's audience where idiots and wanted nothing but running and happy endings; it relies on the slow build of character development and the emotional attachment we grow to have with each one. We care abut the case and the bureaucracy with which each sides characters have to struggle against. Co Written by an Ex police officer, it's main gift and intrigue is it's attention to detail and realism, and what may have been seen as boring and patronising to studio execs in the 90's has been produced to such a high quality by HBO that it just grabs the audience.
When you think of cop drama, the image of things like the Bill or Cagney and Lacey come to mind, programs where the cases are solved in one episode and the faux law is skimmed over in order for the recommended daily output of car chases. in 2002 The Wire in a very daring way broke that mold. It didn't assume that it's audience where idiots and wanted nothing but running and happy endings; it relies on the slow build of character development and the emotional attachment we grow to have with each one. We care abut the case and the bureaucracy with which each sides characters have to struggle against. Co Written by an Ex police officer, it's main gift and intrigue is it's attention to detail and realism, and what may have been seen as boring and patronising to studio execs in the 90's has been produced to such a high quality by HBO that it just grabs the audience.
Poor Poor Gamu
Once again we hit the early nights of October, the month where solitary men find excuses for lack of movement more easy to come by. I myself being one of these men, at points have found that television at this time of year offers nothing more than a stereotypical smothering of crap. X-Factor being the show pooch of the lot. Unfortunately the X-Factor has been a sort of house hold tradition since way back when it was Popstars. So like a smack head to the needle, i keep crawling back.
So this year being like any other year, the intellectually looked over come crawling from the woodwork to belt out grating renditions of Angels and Ain't No Sunshine to a rabble of other hopefuls, led into bounds of applause or soul destroying laughter by the four guardians of hell. Simon Cowel, Louis Walsh, Danni Minougue and Princess Diana part 2. Say what you will about Cheryl, but the woman knows how to spin. From being a toilet attendant beating wag, to the nations princess can't be an easy feat.
But from the opening show we had controversy. The retro fit of voice autotune for the contestants made the public feel cheated and was quickly scrapped for the second episode. But within that first show was a young flower headed girl called Gamu Nhengu. Tipped as an early front runner with her adapted rendition of "Walking on Sunshine", Cheryl made what has seemingly become her popularity downfall decision, and dropped her in the judges house stage to put through the blubbering, can't finish a song but loo at my stupid vintage umbrella Katie, and the attitude monster that is Cher.
Poor poor Gamu. As the nation rallied behind her with calls for her reinstatement, they watched as Cheryl then picked TreyC as her wild card entry. Now the foreign office has told Gamu she must leave the country as her visa has expired. so not a great month for the 17 year old.
But in the end none of this will be of any importance by Christmas, Gamu will be another fallen soldier in the line of emotional fickleness. and we will once again be subjected to a beige version of a pop classic. Thank god for Rage Against The Machine. And Fuck you Simon Cowell
Insufferable little Turd
(I'm going to be the most condescending arsehole in the world, everything I say is opinion. But still good opinion)
Justin Bieber is the gay love child of Zac Efron and Aaron Carter. I'm really looking forward to this little shit's downfall. I'm praying for the INXS asphyxiation wank. I literally heard of this guy last week, that's how out of the loop I’ve been with pop music recently. And I don't care.
In his little video for "One Time", Justin has been left the task of house sitting for Usher. As most would do, Beiber decides to have an alcohol free fun house party were all the girls probably wear purity rings, so the boys are forced into doing anal. Poor them. As Justin Stalks his underage prey, it cuts to him dancing in front of the camera pointing and making heart shapes, adorable. After he's worn her out they share a moment by the pool before she leaves, presumably to get picked up by her mum. Sad and alone with "fuckyoubeiber-puppy dog eyes" Usher returns to his crib to find a rabble of chldren, all of whome could not give two shit's about who Usher is or that it's his house.
I wanted Usher to come back to his "Crib" to find Beiber and his boy Alex with a Barrymore on their hands. A half naked 14 year old, face down in the pool surrounded by silly string and panda pops, with an arse hole as wide as a didgeridoo.
The only good thing to come from this little cyst is the drinking game my friend Sam invented to Beibers music video. Every time he holds up his fingers "one time" you drink. Two times, double up.
So to you Bieber I award you the long over due second title of "Insufferable little Turd". Go forth and spread your twatism liberally, i know you will.
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