Heroes of the Week

1. Jim Reid
The second Friday in a row, I spent the evening watching The Jesus and Mary Chain. Once again they were brilliant, better by miles than most of today's young rock n roll upstarts. And the part played by their frontman can not be overplayed. He is the definition of cool, from the way he hangs on his mike stand to his insouciant 'hey hey heys' and 'ah ha has' .




2. Ian Rankin
His Rebus books are my stock travel readings, because they are pretty easy-going without the brain-numbness of Chick Lit. But the reason for his inclusion here is the answer he gave to an interview question in Metro this week. He was asked what he was bought with the money from the Rebus books, to which he replied 'I'm basically still living like a student. I've just bought loads of CDs, books and films, but I've just bought a USB turntable to convert my vinyl'. Truly a man after my own heart. (I find him quite attractive too - is this wrong?)




3. Elliot Grove
He is the founder of Raindance, the independent film festival and training company. He introduced the film on Wednesday night. I've met him before, but I'd forgotten how cool he is. Even when he's doing the hard sell on his festival or talking technical film speak. He's like a Canadian Christopher Lee (circa The Wicker Man) - that's a good thing.



4. Frankie Boyle
The cynical Scottish comedian who is the funniest person on 'Mock the Week' week after week. He's convinced the world is about to end, he's harsh, shows no mercy for anything or anyone, sometimes takes things too far. But he consistently makes me laugh, which is much needed when everywhere else is all death and destruction.


5. Chuck Klosterman
I came across his writing recently after following links on the Melanethos blog, and based on this I decided to give one of his books ago. I started with 'Killing Yourself To Live' which Chuck travels around the USA visiting the sites of rock n roll deaths. Boy, can this man write. I read it in about a day. I bought 'Chuck Klosterman IV' a collection of his essays for my trip to Scotland and again read that in record time. Highly recommended to anyone with an interest in music and pop culture (even he does look a bit like Corey Feldman!). I'm waiting for 'Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Pops' to arrive next, and I'm hoping he'll get a move on and write some more books as I'm running out.

6. The Abode Hotel in Glasgow
We recuperated here after the festival. I wish we could have stayed longer. It was the best hotel I've ever stayed in. Housed in an old Education Department Building, it had an old-fashioned elevator with a cage. Our room had a triple height ceiling, stained glass window, the world's most comfortable bed, and a shiny bathroom (I have a thing for hotel bathrooms - I think it might be the tiling!), as well as a flatscreen tv, cd/dvd player, robes etc. I think we may have been given a free upgrade, as I can't believe this was their standard level room - we had a sofa and armchair too and a vast amount of space. I could easily have lived there, but as that isn't possible, I'll definitely be having a break in another of their hotels.

7. Keira Knightly's Green Dress in Atonement
I've no intention of seeing the film as I can't stand Keira Knightly usually, but I've seen several pictures of this green dress this week, and it is stunning. I'm quite partial to a green dress myself anyway and this is devine.








I realise now that four of these Heroes are Scottish (I'm uncertain of the nationality of the dress!) - perhaps this week I wish I was Scottish.

Action Packed

As is my habit, this week I’ve been watching “popular films that everybody else saw years ago”, namely the first two Bourne films. I think we decided to watch them because of the excitement the third film seemed to be greeted with by everybody, and we wanted something easy-on-the-brain to watch following the festival exhaustions. I actually quite enjoyed the first one, the European locations looked good and it allowed me to contemplate the significance of memory loss and the strange workings of the human brain. The second one I enjoyed less – there didn’t really seem much to it, except a few big chases, very little to provoke thoughts. So I won’t be rushing to the nearest multiplex (shudders) to catch the third instalment.

In sharp contrast, I ended up at the Raindance Film Club on Wednesday evening. As the publicity for the Film Club says, there are 3 rules of Raindance Film Club:
Fab Film, 2. Free Admission, 3. Free Beers.
It really is surprising I’ve not managed to get myself along to one of these before.

The film this month was ‘Cavite’ a low-budget thriller about a Muslim American man who returns to his roots in Philippines to visit his mother and sister, only to receive a phonecall on arrival to say they are being held hostage. He is then guided around the area of Cavite by the voice on the phone, through an alien world of slums and violence, where he must obey the terrorist to secure his family’s safety. The plot was a simple premise and I’m sure Hollywood will at some point have done something similar but without the same intelligence.

There was also an interesting story behind the making of the film. The writers/directors were all set to go to Manila when their main backer pulled out, leaving them with no money to pay for actors or crew. But they made the decision to make the film regardless – one of them took on the lead role, the other became the cameraman. It was a bold move, but the film is still great. The titles are hilarious though as everything was pretty much done by these two.

As the subject matter suggests, this ain’t a barrel of laughs, but it is available on Region 1 DVD from Amazon.

Why I won't be going to another festival

There are lots of bad things about festivals, but really I think I can put up with most of them:

Mud - Buy a pair of wellingtons, then it really isn't much of a problem. And it gives your thighs a good workout walking through it for three days.

Weather - It might rain, but again this isn't a problem if you are properly attired, and I've finally cracked the way to dress at a festival. Flimsy dress (it will dry quickly), tights and wellingtons, add cardigan & waterproof jacket as required. Looks good but practical. I was told by a random woman that I looked perfect! This was on the second day - she may not have said that same by the end of the third day, but still it was a nice thing to have said.

Toilets - They are going to be horrid but its only a couple of minutes out of your life. It also stops you drinking too much as you don't want to have to go more than is strictly necessary.

Sleeping in a Tent - the way forward is definitely Tangerine Fields - a perfectly pitched tent waiting for you, with no hassle. Ours didn't leak despite the rain and I was warm enough.

Queuing - you queue to get in, you queue for beer, you queue for food and worst of all you queue for the loo. Its boring, but I'm English, its practically a national sport.

Lack of Cleanliness - everyone is the same situation, so it really isn't that big a deal. Its amazing what you can do with an assortment of wipes and dry shampoo. It is probably better if the weather isn't too good though as lots of sweaty bodies is actually worse than mud.

So what is it that has made me decide I don't want to go to another festival? Let me explain.

Whilst undoubtedly there is more to most festivals than the headline acts (especially at Glastonbury), to me it is still about music, one way or another. The camping and all that other stuff is just a means to an end, a way to get to see a lot of good bands and DJs at once. But it would seem that to many other festival goers, this isn't the means to an end, but the end itself. There were people in our field who weren't bothering to go into the festival site much, they were content to sit around outside their tents, smoking and talking. And I can't see the point in paying £130 to do that, but it seems I'm in the minority.

The reason I'm in the minority of course is that I don't smoke cannabis/dope/weed (I don't even know what people call it these days). I have absolutely nothing against this for a health/legality/moral standpoint, but really it is incredibly dull. Stoned people are incredibly dull. And I don't need a drug to make me dull - I'm boring enough naturally.

So I'm trying to get some sleep and I'm actually pretty good at sleeping when there is noise. If I'm tired enough I'll crash out. But having to listen to the inane, repetitive conversations of stoned people was too much for me.

There was one group of twenty-somethings who were all enthralled to the ramblings of an older bloke (probably late 40s, but it was hard to tell) - we'll call him the Tin Pot Philosopher (TPP). I've honestly never heard some much nonsense come from one human being. He sang sang the entire theme tune from the kids' programme 'Poddington Peas' much to everyone else's delight, as if they were witnessing the second coming of John Lennon. TPP then incesantly made comparisons between a dog's penis and a lipstick (I swear he must have said this 50 times between the hours of 4am and 6am). Then apropos of nothing (at around 7.30), he just shouted 'Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly' - I'm well aware that this is the name of a band, but why he chose to shout it then wasn't clear.

But the final straw was when one of his followers asked him what the meaning of life was. His response:

'I'd rather be an Emporer Penguin than give you a simple answer to that question'

So that is why I'm not going to festivals anymore.

Get Yourself Connected

We went to the festival for the music, so here it is.

Friday

Andy Votel (DJ Set) - he turned up very late, which gave the DJ before an excuse to play 'Slave to the Rhythm' by Grace Jones, which is unacceptable. Votel played a lot of good stuff that nobody else has ever heard of, which is kind of the point, but makes writing about it difficult.

The Aliens - A band comprising a couple of ex-members of the Beta Band and Lone Pigeon. They were ok, but really haven't developed a distinctive sound of their own yet. Apart from the song Robot Man, everything they did sounded like something from the 60s, which normally I don't mind, but really I could pretty much sing 'Jean Genie' in its entirety over one song, and another was just 'Comfortably Numb'.

The Jesus & Mary Chain - the main reason for going and they didn't disappoint. Despite recent reports, I was pleased to see that Jim Reid did not look like Pete Postlethwaite. Yes, they're older (but aren't we all? Most people at the festival were over 30) but they didn't sound old which was the main thing. The OH expressed some disappointment that the whole crowd didn't sing along with 'Snakedriver' as he was looking forward to hearing thousands of people singing "I've got syphilitic hetro friends in every part of town".

The Go! Team - we just saw the last two songs of their set. I hate them with a passion. Their music is ok, some of its quite good, but they are just too upbeat for me, and the woman's inane chatter drives me mad. "Tonight, we are going to do the live version of this song". Stating the bleeding obvious woman, what else were you going to do playing live?

Beastie Boys - I must say I was rather disappointed with them. I don't know what more I was expecting (I've seen them twice before so kind of know what they do) but following the majesty of the JAMC, they sounded a bit like a novelty act. The best bit was Mike D threatening to storm the castle and take on the Duke, and claiming that their DJ had made the streets safe to walk by killing the Loch Ness monster.


Saturday

1990s/Fire Engines/The Only Ones - We fully intended to see these groups, and I really wish we had, however we got caught up in a conversation with a fisherman/farmer called Graham in the pub. He hadn't heard of any of the bands on the bill except Bjork (who he mispronounced) and who quizzed us about the festival and life in London as if we were aliens. Big wave to Graham if he's reading, which of course, he won't be, because he doesn't own a compter.

Bats for Lashes/Vashti Bunyan - we saw the end of the former, waiting for the start of the latter, but left after two songs of Vashti as frankly she was poor. She had a huge choir on stage with her, and didn't seem to be singing much herself. Both acts were a bit wet really.

Teenage Fanclub - There's nothing to not like about the Fannies (as a few people still call them). They call melodic power power, they play very well and I seemed to know all of the words to most of their songs, despite not having bought an album by them for about 12 years.

Modest Mouse - the OH stayed at the main stage to watch Mogwai and I braved walking across the site on my own to see Modest Mouse, and I'm really glad I did. They now have Johnny Marr playing guitar for them, after he replied to an ad looking for a Johnny Marr-like guitarist. Johnny Marr is the most beautiful person on the planet. This is a fact. He's also pretty good on the guitar and I think most people were there to see him, which most be difficult for any band he joins. I wasn't just there to see him (I've gone beyond walking through mud because I fancy a guitarist) -I do actually like Modest Mouse. They played a great set and played my favourite song 'Bukowski' which I really didn't think they would.

Echo & The Bunnymen - another band we didn't actually see. Ordinarily we would have, but they were up against Primal Scream. A lad from Bath said he was going to watch them because he'd 'probably never get the chance to see them play to so few people again' - this argument didn't persuade us - I can understand the rational if it is seeing them in a small venue, but not just because they aren't as popular as another band. I feared McCulloch would take it personally.

Primal Scream - I cannot remember how many times I've seen Primal Scream live, but I do know that this is the most sober I've ever been, even though I was sipping a mojito throughout their set! It started ominously when someone in the crowd soaked Mani with a pint of lagar and Mani called a halt to everything and invited the coward who'd thrown it to come up stage and have a proper fight. Unsurprisingly nobody stepped forward. Besides this minor setback, they were on good form. Bobby was upbeat and danced like a fool. The songs from the last record sounded pretty good, but it was the old stuff that was the best. They ended with 'Damaged' 'Loaded' and 'Movin' On Up' - all brilliant. Bizarrely, they didn't play 'Kowalski' which we'd heard being soundchecked all day.


Sunday

Idlewild - We saw them do a soundcheck on our walk into the town. I'm not a fan really but it sounded pretty good.

Paul Hartnoll's Ideal Condition - They were excellent and they did a version of Orbital's The Box with instruments. But (and this is hardly their fault), I don't really want to hear Orbital stuff anymore - it makes me too nostalgic for a time that has passed.

Polyphonic Spree - one of the highlights of the festival. They set up behind a big red ribbon which Tim de Laughter cut through in a heart shape. They know how to put on a show. They started off in their new black military uniforms but they were still singing songs about the sun. Then they went off and changed into their robes, and did a cover version of Nirvana's Lithium (see below & fast forward 3 minutes). Near enough Gospel music. I had to put my sunglasses on as I was very near to crying (and I wasn't alone).


The Bays - Really really good dance music. We couldn't stay for all their set as we had to watch Big Star.

Big Star - I was so worried this was going to be bad, but it wasn't. We were stood right at the front - thank you to the OH for standing through this, even though he doesn't really know them. They were pretty good and played Ballad of El Goodo' which was great. I was slightly disappointed that they didn't play some of my favourites (She's a Mover, Get What You Deserve) but I'm still really pleased I saw them. They made a few good jokes about Teenage Fanclub too.

LCD Soundsystem - Very disappointing. They didn't do 'Losing My Edge' or 'Jump into the Fire'. We should have gone to see Hot Chip instead.

Outdoor Gear

I'm sat in Glasgow Bus Station looking at the rucksack at my feet, and the label on it that says 'Outdoor Gear'. I can't believe that I own something called 'Outdoor Gear', much less have cause to use it.

My youth was (mis) spent in clubs, gigs, cinemas, galleries - I am decidely indoorsy. But here I am about to get on a bus to the middle of nowhere, where I will spend three nights in a tent.

How did this happen? What mistakes did I make in life that led me at 32 years of age to be going to be camping at a music festival?

The next few posts are the story of my recent trip to the Connect Music Festival. Its a tale that involves Music, Mud and Mojitos, but mainly Mud.

Once upon a time you dressed so fine

I've never really read Mojo magazine. Back in the days when music was my big thing, I used to read NME, Melody Maker, Select and Vox, but never Mojo. Mojo was for the oldies, it was what the Ex's dad read. But the Stax film the other week was sponsored by Mojo, so we each got a free copy of it, and I've been reading it on my journeys over the past week. And its surprisingly good. I nearly missed my stop the other night, I was so engrossed in an article about Fleetwood Mac! This issue of Mojo was a Rolling Stones special.

I've never been a huge Stones fan. I mean I like them, used to have a 'Best Of' tape and have a few of their songs on my ipod, but I've never really been that into them. I think it might be partly due to them continuing too long, Jaggar becoming almost a parody of his former self and the rather distasteful way he now runs the band as a business (charging the support acts to stay for their concerts!). And Jaggar's outfit in the 'Its Only Rock n Roll But I like It' video, a favourite of the aforementioned Ex's father. It may also have something to do with me actually being scared of Bill Wyman - I used to have nightmares about him when I was a teenager, although obviously I'm long out of this preferred age range for girlfriends now, so I'm probably safe on that score.

But I enjoyed the articles and have been listening to more of their stuff this weekend, discovering some of the 50 Greatest Stones tracks that I didn't know before. The thing that struck me most about the Mojo articles were the photographs and how good they looked. I don't think they were particularly good looking in a traditional handsome way, but together they just looked so right. And their girlfriends too - I've developed a slight crush on Anita Pallenberg in the past few days - I don't want to know if she's become haggard and had an awful life - back then she was stunning.

Last night, we went to see the film 'The Hoax' - it was quite good (the OH loves Howard Hughes - he is his favourite billionaire!) but it ended with 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' which has always been my favourite of their songs, and it sounds particularly good last night.

The question 'Beatles or the Stones?' is often asked and I would always have unwaiveringly said the Beatles, but at the moment I'm not so sure.

Off Line

I've not posted anything for a while. A combination of things - I've been feeling a bit low, had nothing much of interest to say, and it appears that my work is going through a phase of monitoring what everyone looks at on the internet. So I've been off-line for a few days.

Today, I had a huge tidy up at work - not very interesting but I feel so much better for having done it. The gloom clouds that had gathered in my head about work haven't entirely gone, but now I can actually see my desk and have usable drawers and shelf space, I'm not dreading going into work quite so much tomorrow.

Good Consumerism

My recent gallery visit also, inevitably involved a just as long visit to the gallery shop. The Photographers Gallery shop (unlike say the V&A which stocks anything tenuously related to any of its displays), does stick to things related to the gallery – photography books, postcards, design magazines and photography equipment. But it is still one of my favourite gallery shops because I love photography books. I covet them. I could spend all day browsing them.

And I was thinking as I sadly put down the £23 exhibition book that if I won the lottery/robbed a bank*, I would buy loads of books. Glossy photography books, to fill bookcases and rest on my coffee table, to be dipped into, flicked through, admired and inspired by.

Forget designer clothes, flashy cars and big houses, all of these things I can manage without, but I hate not being able to buy all the books I want. Because books are good things, providers of knowledge and they should be free to everyone. (I realise there are libraries, which are fine for some things but not the sort of book I’m currently coveting, which I want to be surrounded by, not have to remember to return after four weeks).
To me, buying books is good consumerism, likewise films and music (of a certain quality obviously) – as opposed to clothes and shoes buying which always makes me feel guilty = bad consumerism.

The other thing about this is that these books are usually available to buy online cheaper (Amazon has the exhibition book for £16) but somehow it isn’t the same. There is something about buying the books in the gallery shop, it feels more special that way, then just clicking to put a pixilated purchased into a cyber shopping trolley.

* Would a Judge show leniency if I was caught robbing a bank to buy books?

Soul (Wo)Man

Last night we went to a special screening of a new documentary about Stax Records, ‘Respect Yourself’. You may think you don’t know Stax as it perhaps isn’t quite as much of household name as its big rival Motown, but it was home to some of the biggest names in soul music in the sixties – Otis Redding, Isaac Hayes, Booker T and the MGs, Sam & Dave and The Staple Singers.

It was the first UK screening of the documentary and I was shocked at the poor turnout – probably less than 100 people and most of those were probably connected to the film in some way. It only cost £15 which isn’t much more than the usual price of a cinema ticket in the West End. But as well as the film, there was a Q&A session with Sam Moore (of Sam & Dave fame). I’m not sure he actually answered the questions that were asked, not directly anyway, but he was full of anecdotes and spark, and very charming. The film was ok, perhaps a little negative as it seemed to dwell on the bad times a bit too much - the music, obviously was fantastic – but really it was the session with Sam that made the night special. They showed some footage of them performing in Norway in the sixties which was bizarre – they were amazing performers, with such energy and great dance routines, but the audience were sat on the floor and when they were encouraged to get up by the singers, army officers moved in to sit them back down.

Sam’s wife was also present and she introduced some special footage of the soul musician Billy Preston (who played with the Beatles) who died last year. She was overcome with emotion and had a bit of cry. At that point, the record label boss stood up to announce the prize draw! He did apologise and said how typically British it was to follow a legend with a raffle. Sam and his wife (still fighting back tears) drew the winning numbers – at this point we decide we would rather not win as it was rather embarrassing. Following on from last week’s surreal pub quiz win, I’ve found this week’s surreal moment – the soul legend and the raffle!

Anyway, here is a clip of Sam & Dave back in the day.

I Am Not An Art Critic

Having remembered last week how calming I find galleries, and being much in need of soothing, this lunchtime I popped into The Photographers Gallery. I wasn’t really bothered what was showing, I just hoped the white walls would give me solace and space to relax. But it turned out to be pretty good.

The exhibition was of work by Keith Arnatt entitled ‘I am a Real Photographer’. Arnatt used to be an artist but back in the seventies decided to concentrate on photography. The title of the exhibition comes from an earlier work of his, where he was photographed holding a plaque proclaiming ‘I am a Real Artist’.

I know very little about art (as it is probably painfully apparent) but it seems to me that art is frequently described as humorous or playful, and usually I just can’t see it. But in this case I could see it plainly, particularly in his series of photographs of notes left for him by his wife. I wondered though whether they were real and if so, how did his wife feel about them being exhibited for all and sundry to question their relationship?

Another set was of owners and their dogs, with a description about how both may look equally attentive, but the dogs were only responding to his presence or calls of their name, rather than being aware of him as a photographer. All very interesting, but really I liked this set just because I like dogs!

There were other photographs of rubbish, discarded items, old cans, but photographed to bring out a hidden beauty – which would assert for me that he is indeed an artist as none of my photographs of random debris looks so good.

RIP, Anthony H Wilson

I was on my home from the office party last night and texted the OH. He replied to tell me Tony Wilson had died.

I'm not normally one for public outpourings of grief for people you don't actually know, but on this occasion I'm going to make an exception. I didn't know Anthony H Wilson, but (as you may have noticed), music is incredibly important to me and he was the man who brought three of my favourites bands (Joy Division, New Order, Happy Mondays) to the world. His effect on the cultural landscape of this country has been enormous - not only was Factory home to some brilliant bands, but there was the Hacienda and he employed Peter Saville as a designer too. I even loved that ridiculous quiz he hosted, Remote Control (despite the presence of Frank Sidebottom who terrified me)

The tributes to him have already started, for the man once described as "a twat, but he was great twat". Stephen Morris said of him this morning "You couldn't fall out with him. We tried enough times over the years". Paul Morley described him as the "Metaphysical Mayor of Manchester".

He was just 57 which is very young, but I was even sadder by what I read about his illness. The local health authority (of city that he did so much for) wouldn't pay for the cancer drug he needed so there had been a fund set up by the bands he supported to pay for it. If I'd known about this, I would have contributes (I should point out, his music business did not make him rich).

So I'm sitting here listening to the Mondays, and tonight we are going to watch "24 Hour Party People" in remembrance of him.

Play Your Cards Right

We went to a pub quiz last night – one we’d not been to before. The days of a pub quiz consisting of a basic picture round followed by straightforward questions seems to be long gone as every quiz I’ve been to in recent years has had some gimmick or a few complicated rounds. Last night’s, however, had the strangest variations I’ve come across.

There was the quiz with a few bonus questions, picture and music rounds as you’d expect. But then when the questions were marked, the top three teams entered into a head-to-head. One member of each team had to enter an answer to one of those questions where the nearest answer without going over wins. Then the team winning that round (this is the big twist!) had a play a round of ‘Play Your Cards Right’ to win the prize money!

So we did the quiz and thanks to a splendid performance on the music round (where we left with full points, but a lot less credibility) we came third. Which owing to the bizarre rules meant we were in with a chance of winning the cash prize. The OH stepped up to do the next round, and made a decisive guess on the population of Belgrade. It is not, as one other team wrote 25,000 (did your pen run out, quipped the Quiz Master) but a bit over £1.5 million which had been the OH’s guess. I was so proud until chronic embarrassment set in when I realise we all had to get up to play the card game.

Bill, who I’ve described as ‘the cynics’ cynic’ said that surely everybody else in the pub had lost interest now they hadn’t won, but he was wrong. Someone in the ‘audience’ asked us to stand back so they could see the turn off the cards. The theme music was playing. Tension was running high. The audience was shouting ‘Higher’, ‘Lower’ and getting right into it. I had a fit of hysterics when the surreal nature of the scene hit me. I can’t remember the run of the cards now, except that we were dealt a couple of middle cards (not good) and changed two of them (which dwindled the prize money from £70 to £50). But we won! I think the OH may have punched his fist in the air.

We came third in the quiz but we won!

Art Fight

This morning (through the freelance work), I went to the press preview of the Warhol vs Banksy exhibition. Two giants of the art world brought together for a head-to-head fight! In the red corner, pop art supremo Andy Warhol. In the blue corner, newcomer, guerrilla graffiti artist, Banksy. The ring – a private members club off Covent Garden.

So who won? I would have to say Banksy. But it would be on a points decision, not a knock-down.

Warhol, unfortunately I think, suffers from over-exposure, and now that every other printshop will pop-art your photographs, some of the impact of his work is lost. What was revolutionary in the sixties is commonplace now and its hard to recapture that excitement. I saw all of his Campbell’s soup cans grouped together at MoMa in New York a couple of years back which was impressive and his non-portrait paintings (Electric Chair and the ‘Death and Disaster’ series) can still set the pulse racing. But there wasn’t any of these at this show.

There were a few charcoal sketches of the soup cans, hung next to Banksy’s “Tesco Value Soup” parody, but they weren’t as interesting as the finished versions en masse that I’d already seen. Similarly, Warhol’s portraits of the Queen seemed too reverential in comparison with Banksy’s Queen picture with the Queen as a chimp in front of a garish Union Jack.

www.flickr.com

But then without Warhol, would there be a Banksy? A lot of the pieces here (the soup cans, the Kate Moss as Marilyn) are deliberating referencing Warhol, but that aside, Warhol (and other Pop Artists) brought about huge changes in the art world, without which I doubt Banksy’s work would be hung in a gallery today.

Before today, I’d never seen a Banksy other than in photographs so it was good to see them in real life, especially the huge Churchill with a Mohican painting. But then I wonder really whether his work is meant to be in a gallery? I love art galleries – the actual spaces with their cool white walls – I find them calming regardless of what the art on show is, and that to me seem to run contrary to Banksy’s cachet as a guerrilla artist. One piece in particular, a metal door, with the words ‘Designated Picnic Area’ daubed on it, lost some meaning relocated to a gallery wall.

All in all though I enjoyed – definitely worth seeing and good to kick-start the day with some cultural thinking.

Media Manipulation

I've previously written about my qualms with the way the Madelaine McCann story has been given huge amounts of media coverage, but I held back on the cyncism about the parents, mainly because other people had written about it elsewhere. Then last the London Lite newspaper led with the story about blood being found in the apartment in which the McCanns were staying. The article on the frontpaper said that the police were now concentrating their enquiry on the family and their group of friends and it was looking less likely that she was abducted. The picture editor had earned their money as the photograph of the McCanns was not of them looking distraught as previously, but incredibly shifty, almost as if their eyes had been narrowed in PhotoShop to make them look suspicious. So the story on the front page was, as near as it could without risking a libel case, accusing the parents.

"An interesting turn of events", I thought, turning to page 11 where the story continued. But on page 11, the picture was muddied further with mention of the possible abduction again, another possible suspect and British police criticising the Portugese investigation. It was so contradictory to what was on the front page. All that really could be concluded from it is that still nobody knows anything.

Now I'm not going to defend the McCanns at all (regardless of what happened to Madelaine, I have problems with them hiring a Campaign Manager and taking money from the public), but really I'm disgusted (again) with the Lite's coverage of the story. If I hadn't read the rest of the article inside the paper (and so many people do just read the first few paragraphs), then that was them pretty much condemned as guilty.

Mermaid

As a child, my main ambition was to become a mermaid.

That ambition has sadly (but perhaps unsurprisingly) been unfulfilled, and typically for me, I feel terrible disappointment with myself for this. Its not enough for me that I’m a decent swimmer – I’ve failed to become a mermaid. The same with my job –I work in an interesting enough area and I worked really hard to get here, but because I’m not running the Tate or the NT, I feel like a failure.

Anyway, whilst I haven’t swapped my legs for a scaly tail, I did go swimming this morning before work. I’ve been loving London in the last few days, when the sun has been out, it all looks beautiful and I'm really pleased I live here. But the best thing is seeing the sunlight hit the water in the swimming pool. Ok, so its a public leisure centre, not a private pool or a blue sea, but its still one of my favourite things in the world. This morning, they had removed the divider between the two pools, to make one enormous pool and I loved how it looked, and how much room I had when I was swimming up and down, unbothered by the other swimmers.

I felt relaxed, happy and very near to being a mermaid.

Bearing Fruit

A couple of weeks ago, the first tomatoes appeared on my tomato plants. Yesterday, I noticed that one of them had turned red, so now it looks like an actual tomato. Which of course, is what it is.

Last night I dreamt we harvested the tomatoes and they were full of insects on the inside. I was trying to put a brave face on it and still eat it, much to the horror of everyone else present in the dream. I'm hoping this wasn't a prophecy, but equally I'm not sure I want it to be an allegory either.

Fuming

I've just spent the last hour on the phone to BT and I'm red with rage.

This morning I received re-directed mail from BT containing a final demand for £84.39 but for the phone in our old flat. Which is strange considering we moved out in April and had received a final statement for the account and a refund of £16 for overpayment.

So I rang BT and spoke to a nice Mancunian woman who said they had obviously made a mistake and not turned the line off, but she needed to transfer me to someone else as it wasn't her department.

I was transferred to Fazila who said that not only had I not requested the line to be turned off but it was only installed on 10 April. Why would I have a line installed in a flat I was moving out off and that had a line in for the 3 years we'd been living there?

She said 'Well you did, it says so on my system'.

I explained again that I had requested it to be turned off and that I used to pay the bill by Direct Debit so obviously that had stopped otherwise there wouldn't have been a bill.

She countered with 'But there are calls on there. You are still using the phone'.

I, less than patiently, explained again that I haven't been living there since April, now have a new phone line with BT at my new address and that obviously the calls were being made by the new tenants. I asked to speak to her manager.

Five minutes later, Fezila is back and said 'We've decided to give the benefit of the doubt and won't be charging you the £10'.

I said 'What do you mean give me the benefit of the doubt? Its your mistake. Your colleague admitted it was your mistake. And its £84.39 , not £10' I asked once more to speak to her manager - she said I couldn't because she had already spoken to them on my behalf.

I said I was unhappy with this and could I take her name. 'Fezila' she said. Can I have your full name please I said. 'We only have first names' she said!

I then put through to the complaints department where I complained about having wasted so much time, Fezila making me feel like I was trying to defraud BT. Apparently all charges will now be dropped, they've apologised for the mistake and my feedback about Fezila's manner has been noted.

I now have a headache.

A Song for Every Occasion

This morning I could hear our neighbour playing Underworld’s ‘Born Slippy’ and shouting “Lager, Lager, Lager”. It was 8.30am. Too early for Underworld in my opinion although it was a vast improvement on their usual choice of music – soulless R&B or what sounded like the euro-pop nightmare that is ‘Dr Jones’ by Aqua.

From the occasional times I’ve been able to hear their music, the neighbours, like many young people, seem to suffer from the modern musical malady of only listening to the sort of music played in clubs, regardless of the time of day or occasion. This niggles me – perhaps I have an unusually wide-taste in music, but really I do think there is a time and place for certain types of music, and there is really no need to be listening to the same tunes you were bumping n grinding to in Harrow’s finest meat market the morning after the night before.

Back in my youth when my suitors were the type to spend evenings at raves (how strange this sounds now!), they at least used to listen to something else when they got home. The nosebleed techno was reserved for the night out, replaced at home by the Orb, Pink Floyd, Stone Roses etc. So it can be done – there is a song for every occasion.

The Morning After the Night Before – you really need to bring it down a notch, but it doesn’t have to be one of those awful chill-out compilations or something featuring panpipes.
Recommendations: Most of ‘Screamadelica’ (skip Loaded and Movin’ on Up though at this point), Chemical Brothers songs featuring Beth Orton especially Alive Alone. ‘Some Velvet Morning’ by Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra, ‘Sugar Man’ either the original Sixto Rodriguez version or the Free Association cover.


Weddings – Whilst you don’t want to just let the DJ play any old rubbish, you should consider your guests and the mix of generations there is likely to be – so don’t just play the latest indie rock noise. I know from experience that Weekender by Flowered Up is not a suitable song for a wedding, even if the grandparents don’t realise what it is about, there are swearwords in there.
Recommendations: Anything on the Motown or Stax labels is good. Mothers-of-the brides love a bit of Marvin Gaye. Any 1960s stuff really – the Monkees especially. You’re on pretty safe ground with The Beatles, although I’d avoid Tomorrow Never Knows (too experimental) & Helter Skelter (the song that inspired the Manson Murders is probably not the mood you want)




Hairdressing Salons – my former hairdressers always had MTV on or worse MTV Bass. Awful. I don’t want to listen to this sort of music while I’m having my haircut. Having your haircut is just about as far away from clubbing as you can get, so why the banging music?Recommendations: Actually I’ve come a bit unstuck with this one as I can't really think what is the best music for having a trim to, without resorting to weak puns like songs by the Cutting Crew or Haircut 100. Perhaps silence is the best thing or maybe something classical? Any suggestions?

Why?

To my mind flesh-coloured tights are sometimes a necessary evil - not something I would choose to wear, but sometimes essential. If you work in a corporate environment, bare legs or opaques probably aren't acceptable and in some situations of propriety tights are probably needed. But really they are quite vile and definitely not for August.

Yesterday, on the bus (not the most fashion-conscious of locations, I know), I noticed that the woman to the side of me was wearing flesh-coloured tights. Its August, its now fairly warm, but perhaps she some dresscode to observe? No, this is what made it really really wrong. She was wearing short khaki shorts, a vest top and Birkenstock-style sandals! With tights!


Why?

We can obviously rule out dresscode based on her outfits and that she was on her way back from a low cost supermarket judging by the bags.

So why else would she be wearing tights?

For Warmth? But surely not in August and not with shorts. If you are cold, don't wear shorts, a vest and sandals. Its simple.

Vanity? Opaques certainly hide the lumps and bumps and I suppose even these tights make your legs look smoother. But if you are wearing open-toe shoes it is obvious you are wearing tights so fools nobody. If your legs aren't up to being exposed to the masses without tights, then don't wear shorts.

Shorts and short skirts are not the only option for summer attire. Floaty dresses and skirts are just as cool and readily available in the shops. I just don't understand why you'd wear shorts. tights and sandals.

So if you were the woman on the E3 last night around 7pm in the above outfit, get in touch to let me know why.

Lazy Post

I don't have much to say at the moment. On the way into work today, the ipod played Bellbottom by Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Its still great.





Yay!, as Jon would say.