On my way to the club...

Thursday 7 April 2011

Been to some pretty cool clubs lately.

A brief visit to Berlin in freezing conditions in late November 2010 saw me brave the world famous Berghain club with my good friend and recent travelling companion Alan. After skating across what appeared to be a frozen lake to join the back of a snaking queue, already sizeable at opening time, and in front a towering eastern bloc-style disused powerstation loomed which was the home what what I can only describe as a temple for techno.

This from the guidebook...."Touted by many as the best club in Berlin, Berghain is definitely not for asthmatic, weedy types who were always trying to skip gym. In this industrial-style warehouse club you'll find the hardest of Berlin's hardcore pushing squares 'til way past breakfast time. The beats are relentless, the atmosphere hedonistic... And the crowd? Well you're never quite sure if the menacing, bare-chested toyboys are scowling at you, or eyeing you up. Upstairs in the Panorama bar, things are very slightly more civilized - but not much. A friendly crowd processes packets of chemicals into buckets of sweat way into the following day!"

We left at 6am after 6 straight hours of fun and their were people still waiting to get in. I'd replace "toyboys" with "bears" I guess - so be afraid! Or be very happy, depending on your sexual preferance!

The minimal techno was certainly hardcore, but if this is anything to go by, this is the shit in east Berlin. Not a hint of melody. In fact, you were lucky to get any harmonic movement at all. Its hypnotic, raw, electronic, entirely appropriate to the surroundings. None of this horrible hard house nonsense that some of these hardcore ravers are into. This was good stuff, highly listenable, very musical, in a kind of non-music sort of way. Can I use the word "primal" without sounding pretentious? Well, I just did.

And no techno club would be complete without a Funktion One soundsystem that sounds just amazing. Another Funktion One system is present in the second club that I wanted to mention. The other week I was down in London and myself and my good friend Sebastian paid a visit to Plastic People down in Shoreditch/Hackney or similar (I forget).

I thought this gentleman summed things up nicely:

"Plastic People is like a jack russel dog; it's small, feisty and, if you're not careful, it will bite your face off or pee in your shoes.  It's also like marmite in that you will certainly either love it or hate it.  If your club nights involve getting preened, putting on your finest and sipping tasty cocktails then I sincerely advise you to stay away.  If, however, you like to get down and dirty to some of the freshest and most innovative East-End DJs pumping out anything from Drum 'n' Bass to Dubstep, whilst sweating your tits off in a grimy overcrowded basement, then Plastic People is your kind of night."

It took us three hours to get in, three whole hours! If it had been raining, I think we would have given up. But there was a cheap off licence selling cans for a pound and some nice people to talk to in the queue - lesbians and a spanish contingent and a lad from Leeds - so we drank a few tinnies and had a jolly nice time until they let us in. 

Inside, the club is tiny and almost completely black. Not a good place to try and pull. The music was pretty loud, the bass so deep and black it made your insides fall out. In a nice way, of course. We were listening to the sounds of Fourtet, an electronic artist, playing all manner of London sounds. We bounced about until 5am, it wasn't that busy towards the end. Lots of space to jig around. On the way home we had to stop for two breakfasts. We had danced ourselves sober and hungry. But London at 5am is beautiful and it was going to be a sunny day.
 

"Jukebox Collective" live on 6music

Saturday 5 February 2011

As you may know, I've been working with London based band "Jukebox Collective" producing their debut album, and last night they appeared live on Tom Robinson'd show on BBC radio 6music -  here's a link to the "listen again" in case you missed it!

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00xyfb3/Tom_Robinson_Jukebox_Collective_In_Session/

 

Ten songs, ten days... nice and precise!

Monday 31 January 2011

I've been quiet in blog sphere at lately because, shock horror, I have actually been busy making music, both my own and that of others.

Most recently, I have been usefully employed as producer for a rock band from the east london party scene called "Jukebox Collective", with whom I've been recording a debut album. They sound a little like The Rapture or LCD Soundsystem, but are lucky enough to have one of the best lyricists I've ever come across in their front man, Kev.

Way back in August 2010 - which now seems like an age ago - on the other side of the world, I met their current manager and we had such a jolly time in Japan that when this job came up he asked me if I'd like to meet the band and get involved.

Having been through the whole process of writing and recording my own record, and putting out various remixes, as well as producing various records for friends and unsigned bands, this seemed a good time to spread my wings. From listening to the band's demos, I really felt like I could bring something to the table on this project. Fortunately the band agreed and after several jam sessions/rehearsals down in Hoxton, we were ready to rock with two weeks of intensive recording at Manchester's Blueprint studios.

I love Blueprint. They have an illustrious history of cool artists recording in the studio - Rhianna (pot head), Snoop Dog (pot head), Damon Albarn (piss head), Justin Timberlake and Timberland (stress head), and Elbow (sensible), who are currently in residence. They are based in a massive room upstairs called The Big Room for obvious reasons. We had a sneaky look when they weren't there when we were on the hunt for a cowbell and its fair to say that the set up is fucking amazing.

Still, Jukebox and I had ten songs to record in ten days, a near impossible task. In fact, we had no hope of mixing the record on site, that will be done in my own studio. We aimed to get the drums and bass down in the first week and guitar and vocals down in the second week.

The great thing about an organised studio session is that spontaneous creative things can happen and of course, it was not long before we started enjoying a few creative bursts ourselves. Engineer Gaz was an expert with the desk and knew all about drum kits and tuning floor toms. The band and I concentrated on making sure the songs were as tight and effective as possible, a task aided by european lager and fine wine. And not so fine but somewhat cheaper wine. And crisps. And Rocky biscuits.

There were a few struggles. No good records are birthed without heartache. But for the most part, it went smoothly and I think we were chuffed with the results. I was happy to hear some of the "lesser" songs (for want of a better description) really started to come to life with a bit of direction and I was most impressed with Josh on drums who managed to play very tightly to a speedy click track.

On the final Friday, I popped outside to a quick breather after a celebratory glass or two and started chatting away to some fella having a quick ciggy by the door. Turns out that this was non other than Mike Joyce, the drummer from The Smiths, and Engineer Gaz recognised him and asked him to pop in and listen to the tracks. He really seemed to dig them, which was great, and expressed a desire to remix one of them and play them on the radio in New York. I don't know if anything will come of that, but great that he enjoyed the record as much as we enjoyed making it. The band certainly got excited by this, and it prompted much singing and merriment, and consumption of chinese food.

All in all, very splendid.

And the phrase of the week..."nice and precise" - I guess you had to be there for that one.

The first single, which may or may not be a track called "Billy the Kid", should be finished in the next week or so. Its a rather excellent metronomic post-punk singalong.

In the meantime, here's a quick video of the Jukebox boys on Oldham Street in Manchester.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnmYT1fjreo

Greg (far left) - guitar, keyboards; Josh - (far right) Drums; Kev (speaking) - Singer; Nik (front) - bass

Into Japan... その５

Saturday 15 January 2011

その５. AM５時。目がさめました。４時間睡眠。昨日はロックアップで少し食べただけだったので、ちゃんとした食事をする必要があります。そこで僕は、ホテルのお高い朝食をとることを決意しました。今朝の気分に最高にハマるStereolabの「Metoronomic Underground」がi-Tunesから流れてきます。そして「欲しい欲しい病」が僕を襲いました。漫画のキャラのTシャツが欲しい、あとアイスクリームとJ-popのCDも何枚かほしい。それは僕の新たなミッション。よし、やるぞ。 地下鉄で秋葉原へ。秋葉原は電気街そしてオタク（特に漫画とアニメ）カルチャーで有名です。比較的静かな電車に座って楽しく過ごしているものの、僕は目立つ赤毛で、とても顔色が悪く、あざやかなグリーンのTシャツに帽子という自分の姿がなんともいえない異彩を放っていることに気づきました。マズいチョイスでした。 秋葉原で、アニメグッズが置いてある高層ビルを見つけたので、ちょっと見てみることに。しかし３０分後。僕はまだそのビルにいて、行き場を失いヨレヨレになりながら6階まで上がるものの、未だ扉をみつけることができずにいました。大きな目をして、思春期前の姿をした―いわば、漫画らしい、妙な日本のキャラクターたちが、そこかしこにいます。睡眠不足と、幻覚を見そうなこの環境が、めまいをともなうパニックを誘発します。ここは日本のティーンエイジャーであふれかえっていて、とても狭く窮屈なのです。でもラッキーなことに、歩いていたら、今までは気づかなかった階段を見つけることができ、僕はようやく通りに出られました。まあ、そこは店員用の出口だったかもしれないんですが。こんなオソロシイ体験をした後にあるものはただ一つ。Pizza！ その後、夜、僕はEMIのショーケースを観るため「Shelter」というライブハウスに行きました。ロックバンドが、まさに「ロック」なロックを演奏していました。つまり、彼らは会場をガンガンに盛り上げていました。彼らが日本でブレイクすることは違いないでしょう。でも、外国でウケるかどうかは何ともいえないです。僕の知っているロックファンは、この特殊なオーディエンスたちを２０分もの間熱狂させた「ロックしたいか！」的なやりとりの繰り返しの他に、もう少しリリカルな内容を求めるんじゃないかな。ああ、でも、きっと、僕は間違ってる。口うるさく口出しして、A＋R manになってどうする！ あ、ちなみに。僕は今日、オクラが嫌いだってことを発見しました。 その６: 今日は金曜日。僕らのうち、少なくとも半分は、今日、日本を発ちます。そして（僕を含む）残りのグループは、明日のサマーソニックに備えます。サマーソニックのラインナップは、かなりスゴイ。 Orbital、Jay-Z、Stevie Wonder、A-ha、その他いっぱい。まさに、海外の音楽とJ-popのミッスク―これは、摂氏３３度でもクールになること間違いないですね。 サマーソニックの前に、僕は日本人の新しい友人HitoshiとAさん（僕を浅草リトルツアーに連れ出してくれた人）とともに楽しい時間を過ごしました。僕らが訪ねた寺は、あいにく閉まっていたんですが、それは決して無駄足じゃなかった。だって僕らはそこでノリのいい二人の韓国のコたちと会って、一緒に写真を撮れたもの。僕らはビールを飲んで日本食を食べることにしました。日本が話せる人が一緒にいてくれてすごく助かった。だって店のメニューは僕にとってはミステリー。 Sashumi（刺し身）にtempura（天ぷら）、クラゲに牛の胃袋（これはチキングレイビーの中に入っているチキンスクエアの味がした）、それからゼリー状のタコのwasabie(わさび。マスタードのように辛いもの)添え。これは本当に美味しかった。 その後、僕らはめちゃくちゃクールでアートな感じの地下クラブへくりだしました。そしてこの夜は、連絡先の交換、今度はオンラインで話そうという約束で締めくくられたのでした。 僕は今日、全く迷子になりませんでした。そして、新しく学んだ事もあります。 “psy-cho”（「サイコ」イッちゃったヤツ）は日本語では“the best”（「最高！」）って意味になるんです。これは覚えるのが簡単だし、いつでも使えるし、使うとカッコいい。これは、今や僕のJ-ボキャブラリーのひとつ。僕は日本人になりつつあるようです。 そして、サマーソニックは不思議だ。本当に。僕はグラストンベリーでの経験があるので、他のフェスティバルではなかなか満足出来ません。ここ、サマーソニックには、バーミンガムにあるNECエキシビジョンセンターのような、しかしそれよりも更に大きい超巨大ステージがいくつも設置されています。大きなスポーツアリーナがメインステージで、その他に、かなりアウトドアな感じのステージがある変わったビーチまで。そしてそのステージは最高だ。だって、コンクリートに囲まれてない。僕たちが観たのは、Biffy Clyro,にA-ha,にthe Eels。あと、他のアーティストたちのも、ちょっとのぞいたりしました。正直言って、一度ビーチステージを見つけてしまったら、もう他には行けないですね。ほんとに素敵なんです。夜のとばりがおりると、対岸の東京の灯りが見えます。the Eelsが最後の曲をとりかかった時、花火が打ち上げられ、夜の空に花ひらきました。東京の中心にもどる３時間前、僕の指の間には砂がはさまっていました。 素晴らしい事に、あったかいけれど暑くはなく、潮風は僕らを涼ませてくれました。フェスティバルから同時に帰る何千という人々を、電車は容易なくさばいていきます。東京の電車ホームでさえも、僕の熱狂を台無しにすることはありませんでした。 その７: 僕がここにいられるのも、悲しいことに、あとわずかです。今は、ホテルのチェックアウトから空港に向かうまでの隙間時間。このヒマな数時間、僕は東京のゲイの園―新宿二丁目をのぞいてみることにしました。東京の景色がユニークなのを知っている貴方には、これはそんなに驚くべきことじゃないかもしれないんですが、新宿二丁目は一平方メートルにあるバーやクラブの数が世界中のどこよりも多いんです。とはいえ、それらの店はとても小さく、一件４、５名といったところ。 どのバーもシーンは限定されていて、それは決してブレません。とにかく…自分が入るべきじゃない店には入っちゃいけない。店の名前さえはっきりしなくて、日本語が読めない為にこれから何が起こるのか知るすべすらなくても。もし外国人が「入るべきじゃない店」に間違って入ってしまった場合、礼儀正しく受け入れてもらえるか、もしくは店を出てくれと頼まれるか、です。幸運なことに、問題のない店もいくつかあり、僕はAdvocateという、１２人以上入れる大きめの店を通り沿いに見つけることができました。 賢いアイルランドの男が、かつて言っていました。「君がもし十分に面白い人間で、十分な時間、そこにとどまることが出来たなら、そこの人々は君と話をしてくれるだろう」日本人の友達を連れた、パース出身の男、ビジネスを学んでいるベトナムの坊や、セクシーなアメリカなまりの英語を話す日本人の男（カンザスをしばしば訪れているらしい）、そして、若い日本人の愉快な仲間たち―彼らは少しの英語とポルトガル語を話すことができ、そのうち数人は僕をダンスする場所に連れて行ってくれました。それから彼らは、カラオケにも僕を引っぱって行きました。カラオケボックスでの２時間をなくして、日本の旅は終わらない。彼らの歌は、マンチェスターの雨の金曜日にCanal(運河)ストリートで放たれているねっとりとしたブツのごとく…でした。ここは第二の故郷かも。この最後のわずかな時間、僕の面倒をみてくれた彼らに、とても感謝しています。 そして、見送りのファンファーレとともに、僕はそこを去ったのでした。

Into Japan... その３:

Monday 22 November 2010

その３: その３: 東京での三日目は、こんな感じとなりました。 ベルコモンズという無数のフロアをもつデパートの、非常に広いカンファレンスホールで、僕たちは２０いくつかの日本のデリゲイトに自分たちのプロジェクトを紹介しました。 僕がそこへ持参していったのは、ラップトップ、ビデオいっぱいとトラックいっぱい、そしていくつかのCD、あと僕の帽子、それから組み立て式のイス。 で、僕たち全員、ここではWi-Fiが使えないことに驚きました。 ここにあるすべてが、ユニオンジャック（UK）ブランド。 大使館やBPIやUKTIのスタッフも出席していました。 聞くところによれば、デービッド・キャメロン首相は日本を最重要輸出国だと強調しているらしいですね。 そして僕には、今、僕がここに座っていることが、妙にスゴイことに思えてきたのです。 UKの代表として、自分のベッドルームで作ったレコードと共に、僕はここ、東京にいる。 一体、なにが起きているんだろう。 僕の頭の中で小さな声が言いました――「やばい、オレ、今、東京にいる！」そしてその声は少しずつ、どんどん大きくなっていったんです。 僕は、多くの人と話しました。 みんな、素敵な人たちだった。 彼らと一緒に仕事ができたら、と思います。 そのあと、僕は、あるギグへ向かいました。 これから観るバンドが「Tripple Nipple」という名前の、キャベツの葉っぱと黒ガムテープとわずかばかりのものをまとった日本の女の子二人組で、ドラムにElliot Hasiuk、シンセにニュージーランド出身の男二人組がいると知って、僕はちょっとばかり興奮しちゃいました。 そしてうれしいことに、そのショーのあと、僕たちはそのバンドメンバーと一緒にディナーに招かれたんです。その女の子たちは、その衣装のままでした。 ギグ、タクシー、それから食事、それでもって皆が僕を「ミスターマンチェスター」とか「マンチェスターボーイ」とか、そんな感じで呼んでくれた。 でもね… 彼女たち、聞いてほしいんだけど… 実のところ僕が住んでいる場所は、マンチェスターよりもストックポートという、素晴らしい帽子を製造することで有名な街に近いんだよね。 そこにはまた、Zeno、オリエンタルマシーンというJ-rockバンドもいました。 彼らがまた、とっても良いんです。 「J」を言葉の頭につけるだけで、いきなり何もかもがcoolになることを発見しました。 日本には、洋楽（レディガガ、Jay-Z、マドンナ、ビートルズなど）も入っていますが、やっぱりメインはJ−popです。数多くのJ-popがあって、その産業はUKよりもずっと大きい。 明日の朝はHMVに行って、J-popをチェックしてみることにします。

Into Japan... その１：

Wednesday 3 November 2010

飛行機での旅が好きです。特に、アジアへのフライトはいい。 東京までは、イランやパキスタンなど湾岸諸国のキケンな上空を突っ切ることになります。パキスタンのペシャワルを通り、その北、そびえたつヒマラヤへ。 僕は、疑惑の渦中にある国をいくつ通り過ぎたか、記録してみました。サウジアラビア、イラク、イラン。僕たちの飛行機は情勢の不安定な北朝鮮の上空を少し迂回し、かわりに開かれた韓国の空を通過しました。ドバイでのストップオーバーではWi-Fiが使えたので、ツイッターで暇つぶし。つぶやくの、大好きなんですよ（@ThisMorningCall）。 成田空港からホテルまでは、オレンジ色のリムジンバスで９０分。都市へ至る全てのルートの中で、最短のものを選んでみました。渋滞なんて全くなく、それは、この街がどれだけ大きいかを教えてくれました。 僕はといえば、うつろな顔に、立派なくま、いかにも疲れた旅行者風。二日間飛行機にのったことによる肉体的代償ってやつですね。しかし、こんな顔の男に、よく日本への入国を許可してくれたなあ。 ちなみに、東京の第一印象は、「東京って、スゴイ」高架道路が縦横無尽にかけられ、そしてレインボーブリッジ、見事です。ロンドンアイサイズの観覧車が高層ビル群の間にあるし、いたるところに、ビル、広告板、灯り、人、人、人。 その２: 今、ここは、この季節にしては暑く、湿度も高いと聞いています。 Tシャツ１枚で十分な暑さ…というか、１時間後にはTシャツを着替えないといけない暑さです。 でも、ほとんどの場所にはエアコンがあるんです。電車の中にも。 日本の地下鉄はきわめて入り組んでいて、広大で、そして混雑しています。 正直、何がどうなっているのか、さっぱり分からない感じでした。 自分がどの駅にいるのかさえ、さっぱり分からないんです。 しかも、もし地下鉄を間違った出口から出てしまったら、目的地まで何マイルも歩くはめになると聞きました。 僕は地下鉄で１人の日本人男性を見ました。酔っていたのでしょうか、よろめきながら日本語で何かをわめいていました。 彼は身投げをしようとしているように見えました。 彼に何がおきていたのか、僕は人並みに流されて知る事ができなかったのですが…彼が無事でいるといいです。 日本人が全体的に礼儀正しいのか、それとも僕の見てくれを気に入ってくれたためなのか、それは分からないけれど、どこにいても助力と笑顔、挨拶、そして厚意を受けることができました。 ロンドンのあの行儀の悪さは、全体的になんとかしなくちゃいけない。 さらに、日本の地下鉄には汚れも臭いも、なんにもないのです。 わずかなゴミが道にあるだけ。誰も出入り口で用を足したりしません。 僕は朝の５時に起きました。 目の奥に、とれない疲れを感じていました。 時差ぼけっていうのは妙なものです。 きっと帰国するころには、この時差ぼけもすっきり治っているでしょう。 それにしても、この上下逆さまになるような、この混乱。これは、この地の人が「おやすみ」という時間と、僕の体が寝ようと言う時間のズレが引き起こしているのです。 ここは、ただいま午前７時。でもUKは真夜中。 もう、めちゃくちゃです。 更にこの場所の大きさ、また道のあきれるほどの喧噪が、僕の混乱に拍車をかけて、僕はただ今、ビル・マーレーとチャネリングしちゃってる感じです。 この旅の準備を助けてくれたBPI（英国レコード産業協会）もUKTI（英国貿易投資総省）も、本当に素晴らしい仕事をしてくれたと思います いい加減なことは何もなく、時間を効率的に使うことが出来ました。 最初のセッションは、午前９時から午後５時半までの正式で真面目なもので、ライブプロモーターから、レコードレーベルの非常に偉い重役さんまで、多種多様な方々のプレゼンテーションもありました。 人脈作りのチャンスにあふれていて、僕は名刺を配りまくることに。 ブリティッシュミュージックを代表する約３０程度のUKデリゲイトがあり、その誰もが良い感じでした。 初日の終わり、親睦会として、それは素敵なレストランに連れていってもらいました その店では、数年前にクエンティン・タランティーノの「キルビル」が撮影されたとか。それが真実であるかは定かじゃないんですが、でも、確かに、そんな感じでしたね。 で、食事について。 食事の形式はスペインのタパスにちょっと似ていて、たくさんの皿が時間差で出て来ます。そして大変喜ばしい事に、飲み放題なのです。 僕はメカジキとエビ団子の入った春雨を皆様におすすめしたい。ひかえめで、繊細で、かぐわしくて、ちょっと唐辛子がきいていて、みな、バランスが絶妙。ナイスです。

Cliffhangers...

Monday 13 September 2010

My last big blog update ended on a bit of a cliff-hanger. There I am, sat in Dubai, feeling somewhat glum that my joyous trip to Japan was finally over, surrounded by shouty yanks and scouse accents. Well, I did make it back to the UK in one piece, and a good job too because the rest of August was equally as up-tempo and manic. So busy in fact that I appear to have suffered a minor case of blog writers block. Hence the lack of updates

Well, to get over it, I’ve given myself a slight challenge tonight to get the gist of it down before the battery runs out on this little laptop. So I’m typing fast, and you’ll have to forgive the inevitable typos and lack of usual revisions. This one is coming at you under exam conditions.

But, loyal readers, don't despair, I have so much to tell you.

First things first, "Clockworks", the current single which is now available to download from iTunes or from www.thismorningcall.com was recently listed on the evening playlist at XFM, which, considering I'm an independent artist with the backing of a tiny indie record label with no budget, is nothing short of amazing really. It’s one of these indie rock radio stations, but I understand they broadcast nationally. I haven’t actually heard them play it, but hey, my ear is not permanently glued to the radio, look you! I’m sure it will have gone out at some stage. Needless to say, I was very pleased.

I was also very pleased to spend a few days enjoying the delights of the Edinburgh fringe festival towards the end of August, with my good friend Lukas (of Maximo Park fame). The Edinburgh Fringe is the Glastonbury of the theatre/comedy world and this has been my first visit since 1997, when I appeared in Diverse Attractions' production of "Measure for Measure" as Claudio. My return to the festival scene this year was helped enormously by the kind generosity of some Edinburgh residents who gave us the freedom of their flat for 4 days for free. Accommodation can be a major headache and strain on the wallet so I was delighted to get this sorted. Many thanks indeed, you know who you are!

Lukas and I enjoyed about four or five shows a day that ranged from the silly through to the harrowing. Some were harrowing for all the wrong reasons. There was only one show that I really thought was so bad I wanted to kill myself. Fortunately, the majority were really good. "Smoke and Mirrors", a cabaret in the Rocky Horror vein, was a particular highlight. What a remarkably talented bunch of acrobats, singers and musicians.

I also enjoyed "Bare", a great play about bare knuckle fighting, with some lively fisticuffs onstage and a decent plot to boot. Could have done without the gratuitous rape scene but hey ho. In fact, seems like most of the plays and shows we went to see involved nudity. But I'm not complaining. In fact, for the most part I was entirely titillated, especially when Bryony Kimmings made a selatape moustache out of pubic hair she had just harvested from the audience in her one woman show "Sex Idiot" Oh how I laughed.

I've felt the end of summer breathing down my neck recently. That cool, icy wind that speaks to me of snow, ice, Christmas. Summer's last hurrah at Manchester Pride this year was a more sober affair than it has been in previous years. I was just so desperate to avoid a hangover before bank holiday Monday when we were due to play a set on the Sackville Park stage (Main Stage next year, I promise). I was happy to meet a bunch of new people, including DJ Phil Marriott who has been supporting some of my records on Gaydar Radio, and who I will hopefully catch up with again in London before not too much longer. I did BBC Introducing half way through the big Saturday night double bill of Kelis and whatever club I ended up in after midnight, arriving slightly tipsy with tribal makeup all over my face thanks to Miss Keyes and her eyebrow pencil. So rock and roll.

But the icy winds also whisper change. Something is in the air. I've had such an invigorating summer, confidence is high, and the world has become a smaller place. I feel manifestly different. It was exactly what I needed, to energise myself, to inhabit a slightly stranger world than what I'm used to. It's so easy to comfortable with things, and sometimes that is not what is needed. It's time to write some new songs, it's time to change my life around, new places, and new horizons. It's been on my mind in some way for some time, but now, a degree of clarity. This is the start of something new.

And if that's not a cliff-hanger, I don't know what is.

The Japan Mission 2010 - Part Three

Saturday 14 August 2010

Sixth slice:

 

Its Friday. At least half of the group are leaving today. The others, including myself, are preparing ourselves for the Summer Sonic festival tomorrow. The line-up is rather fabulous. Orbital, Jay-Z, Stevie Wonder, A-ha, and many more, a real mixture of international acts and J-Pop - It should be cool even in 33 degree heat.

 

Before summersonic, I'm enjoying the company of new Japanese friends Hitoshi and Akiyo, who take me on a little tour round Asakusa. We visit a temple but its closed, but the journey is not wasted as we meet two excitable Korean girls and have our photo taken with them. We resolve to drink beer and eat Japanese food. So helpful that I’m with japanese speakers because these menus are a mystery to me. We eat sashumi and tempura, jellyfish and cow stomach (tasted like chicken squares in chicken gravy), and jellyfied octopus with wasabie (hot like mustard). It was all really good.

 

Later, we are drunk on the underground and go to a party in a very cool, arty underground club. The evening concludes with the exchange of details and a promise to talk again online. I realise that I haven't been lost at any point today. I've also learnt a new word pronounced "psy-cho" meaning "the best". Its an easy one to remember and can be dropped into the conversation at any time in order to sound impressive. That's five words in my J-vocab now. I think I'm turning Japanese.

 

Summersonic was a strange affair really. I'm so Glastonbury obsessed that any festival will struggle to meet my exacting standards. Here, there were a number of stages housed in a giant exhibition centre like the NEC in Birmingham but much bigger, then a giant sports arena as the main stage, and then, bizarrely, a beach with a further outdoor stage which was by far the best part of the festival as it didn't involve concrete. We watched Biffy Clyro, A-ha, the Eels and caught bits and pieces from other artists.

 

Once I'd found the beach stage, I didn't want to leave. It was truly lovely. As darkness decended, you could see the lights of Tokyo on the other side of the bay. As the Eels launched into their final track, fireworks came from nowhere and lit up the night sky. I had sand between my fingers when three hours previous I had been in the heart of Tokyo.

 

Gloriously warm but not hot, the sea breeze cooled us and even the Tokyo subway home failed to dampen my enthusiasm for the day, with trains easily able to handle thousands of people who had rocked up for the festival all leaving at the same time.

 

Seventh Slice:

 

My time here is sadly drawing to a close, and I’m in that hinterland between hotel checkout and airport. I have a few hours to kill. I resolve to become a barfly in Ni-chome (pronouced nee - chom - may), in Shinjuku, gayland in Tokyo.

 

It will come as no surpise to you to learn that the scene in Tokyo is unique. Nichome has more bars and clubs per square foot than anywhere in the world. However, they are so small you can only fit four or five people in each one. Each bar is very scene specific, and the scenes do not mix. End up in a bear or leather bar at your peril, given that there is no way of knowing what to expect unless you read Japanese, and even then the name may not clarify. Foreigners are politely tolerated or asked to leave if you go in the wrong place. Fortunately, there are a few where this is not an issue and I found one place called Advocate which spills out onto the street and can hold more than a dozen people at any one time.

 

A wise Irishman once told me that if you are sufficiently interesting and you hang around for long enough, people will talk to you. Its true. A guy from Perth with his Japanese friends, a little fellow from Vietnam studying business, a really lovely Japanese guy with a sexy american accent who had spent some time in Kansas, and some younger Japanese characters, some of whom took me to a nearby dancing establishment, and who had a smattering of english and portugese between them. Then they took me to karaoke. No trip to Japan is complete without two hours in a karaoke booth. They sing the same cheesy crap that gets played down Canal Street on a wet Friday in Manchester. Home from home. I'm very grateful to them for looking after me in those final few hours.

 

And with a final flourish, I was gone.

 

Afterword.

 

I'm in Dubai again. People are trying to sleep on a marble floor. It looks like a row of dead people. I can hear loud amercians slagging off the coffee. I really dislike them. Bored kids are getting on my nerves, running around, overtired. The sun is coming up. I can see an impossible city in the desert. In one hour, I'll be on a flight back to Manchester, back to the rain and the rudeness and the scallies and crime and the horrible buses. I don't want to go.

The Japan Mission 2010 - Part Two

Thursday 12 August 2010

Forth slice:

 

HMV opens at 10am. I'm waiting outside for the shutters to come up, having been awake since 5am. The shop is buzzing. It is also full of music I've never heard of. I listen to some cool stuff. Some artists sing in a mixture of Japanese and English. Refreshingly, unlike music shops in Manchester, there are no posters of The Smiths or Noel Gallagher or Morrissey or Kylie. I ponder the idea of setting up a small J-pop import business in the UK. Maybe I could DJ it for starters and see how it goes down.

 

Like North Korean politics, the heat today is oppressive. I wonder the streets for as long as I can. Then I find I have to wonder then a bit more because I am hopelessly lost. Contemplate phoning home to ask for directions. I did that once when I was drunk and lost in Cardiff and trying to find a club with a welsh name. It didn't help. My mind drifts onto the physics of the situation. Hey, I'm half a day ahead of you back in blighty - I'm in your future. That silly realisation cheers me up and with renewed vigour I turn a corner and miraculously find myself in the hotel lobby. Magic! That sort of thing seems to happen here a lot.

 

More seminars today. Afterwards, we have a "wash-up". That's a technical term. Lots of thoughts and comments are shared, some of which are useful, some of which are nit-picky. We congratulate the organisers for doing a great job. Some people are thinking about going home. I'm not, I'm here until Monday. I'm just finding my feet. I wonder what would happen if I just didn't go home. I'd be skint very quickly that's for sure. Everything here costs a bomb.

 

I receive a call from new Japanese friend Hitoshi on my rented Japanese phone. We arrange to meet at 4pm on Friday although I'm a bit vague about exactly where. I'll have to phone him again but I'm distracted by a prostitute who politely tries to drag me into a brothel. I politely decline her services. Everybody is SO polite. At least, I think she was a prostitute. Either that or she wanted to sell me a mobile phone tariff. I am so confused.

 

Diner tonight was mental. The delegates and I descended into a basement restaurant called The Lockup. This place is dark and shadowy. Low ceilings and a warren of low tables in cells. Beer arrives in 2pint measuring cylinders. Spirits are fashioned into chemistry sets and come with a pipette, or feature a floating jelly eyeball. There is a man sat in an electric chair that activates everytime someone walks past it. (Not a real man). So it's like The London Dungeon. The staff are wearing prison fatigues and you are led to your table handcuffed to one of them, usually a petite Japanese girl, causing great excitement. Every so often, the lights go out, Ghostbusters comes on the PA, and everybody starts screaming and... Well, I won't ruin the surprise. Just don't sit by the door.

 

The evening ends rather abruptly as I manage to lose everybody and end up wondering the streets. I'm tipsy and its 1am. I'm surrounded by good-looking Japanese people who I'm scared to talk too with my four-word grasp of Japanese. I want to find another bar. One with Karaoke and jugs of beer and wine and polite, English speaking, good-looking, instant J-friends. You'd think that would be easy. I try a few doorways, but nothing is what it seems. Things look closed but I know they're not. Things are on the fifth floor but how do I get in and is it really a bar? Do I risk going down a flight of stairs into a basement that could be anything. I want to lose myself somewhere busy. I'm struggling and walking in circles. So back in the hotel, I want to play the guitar but I left it at home. Thus follows a half hour of homesickness before lights out.

 

Fifth slice.

 

5am. I'm awake. 4 hours sleep. Resolve to have an expensive breakfast in the hotel because of the small portions at The Lockup and I need a proper feed. The shuffle gods present Stereolab this morning so I shower to the sounds of Metronomic Underground which feels terribly appropriate. I get an attack of "the wants". I want a T-shirt with manga characters on it and an ice cream and some J-pop on CD. That can be my new mission. No point emailing the new Japanese contacts just yet. Let things settle.

 

I travel to Akihabara on the underground. Akihabara is famous for electrical stores and geek culture, which basically is manga and anime. I enjoy sitting on the relatively quiet train although I feel strangely conspicuous. In Akihabara, I find a tower block full of anime stuff so I resolve to a take a look. 30 minutes later I'm still in the aforementioned tower block, in a crush and trapped six levels up and unable to find the door. Everywhere there are weird Japanese characters with the big eyes, superpowers and the pre-pubescent features that you'll recognise from the manga style. Lack of sleep and hallucinatory surroundings cause a slight panic to descend. The place is full of Japanese teens and is very tight and narrow. Fortunately, a further bimble about reveals a hitherto unknown stairway and finally I’m out on the street. It may have been the tradesman's exit. There's only one thing for it after that terrifying experience. Pizza.

 

Later that evening, I'm at an EMI showcase event in a club called Shelter. A rock band are playing, and they do indeed rock. In fact, they rip the place apart. I'm sure they will be a massive success in Japan. Though I'm not sure how well their simple songs will translate internationally, most rock fans I know like a little more lyrical content above and beyond the "Do You Wanna Rock!" call and response chant that propelled this particular audience into a J-frenzy for twenty minutes. I'm probably wrong. Who'd be an A+R man!

 

Oh, and I've discovered I don't like Okra.

 

To be continued.....

The Japan Mission 2010 - Part One

Tuesday 10 August 2010

First slice:

 

I love flying. On the way to Tokyo we flew over the gulf and flirted with Iran and Pakistan. We flew up past Peshawar and northwards round the high Himalaya. I kept a note as to how many questionable states we'd flown over. Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Iran. We took a minor diversion avoiding repressive North Korea and instead passed by an enlightened Seoul. At the stopover in Dubai, they had Wi-Fi so I went on Twitter to pass the time. I love a good tweet. (@ThisMorningCall)

 

The orange bus in Tokyo took 90 minutes from the airport to the hotel, urban all the way, taking the most direct route. There were no hold ups. That gives you some idea just how big this place is. I had an air of the tired traveller about me, big baggy eyes and a hollow face. The physical price of two days in the air. I'm surprised they let me in the country.

 

First impressions. Tokyo is spectacular. Flyovers swing and drop across water and the rainbow suspension bridge is amazing. There was a giant ferries wheel amoungst the skyscrapers that must have been the size of the London eye. And everywhere, buildings, billboards, lights, people.

 

I'm staying in Shibuya. (Pictured) Very excited.

 

Second slice:

 

At 33 degrees, I'm told it's unseasonably hot and humid here right now. You can put a t-shirt on and have to change an hour later. But most places have aircon, including the city trains. The underground is hugely confusing, vast, and busy. I have no clue what is going on. I have no clue which station I'm in. Im told if you leave the station by the wrong exit, you could end up miles from where you want to be. I saw one guy, he must have been drunk or something, stumbling about and yelling in Japanese. He looked like a possible jumper. I didnt see what became of him before I was whisked away by the crowds. I hope he's OK.

 

Not sure if the politeness of the Japanese people is generally symptomatic or if they just like the look of me, but everywhere there is helpfulness and smiles, bowing, and courtesy. I thought of London and the general level of rudeness you have to put up with. And the dirt, and the smells. None of that here. Very little rubbish in the street. Nobody is pissing in a doorway.

 

I woke up at 5am. Jet lag is a weird thing. I can feel a nagging tiredness behind my eyes. I'll probably adjust in time to go home. But that sense of dislocation, of being upside down, it's a combination of not understanding a single thing anybody says to you and your body telling you to sleep. Its 7am here, but UK time is midnight. I'm back to front. And the scale of place, and the bewildering confusion at street level, it all adds to it. I'm channelling Bill Murray right now.

 

Both the BPI and the UKTI who have helped organise this "mission" have done a fantastic job. I'm here to present "This Morning Call" to the Japanese record industry. There is no mucking about. The first session was a proper serious 9 to half 5 with presentations from all sorts of people ranging from live promoters to very senior record label executives. Plenty of networking and giving out of business cards. There are about 30 or so UK delegates here, representing British music, and everybody seems nice. Instant friends.

 

We were taken out to a brilliant restaurant for a bit of a social after the first day. They apparently filmed Kill Bill here, the Quentin Tarantino movie from a few years back. I'm not sure if that is actually true, but it certainly looked the part. So I'm going to run with it. The format of the meal was a bit like Spanish Tapas with various dishes arriving at different moments and, joy of joys, a free bar. I'd recommend the swordfish and the prawn balls with glass noodles. Subtle and delicate flavours, hints of chilli, everything well balanced. Nice.

 

Day three in Tokyo went something like this.

 

We presented our projects to a hundred or so Japanese delegates in a place called "Bell Commons" which turned out to be this massive conference hall on the millionandoneth floor of a department store. I took the laptop along with the various videos and tracks, and some CDs, and my hat, and set up my stall. We are all amazed that there is no Wi-Fi here. Everything is Union Jack branded. The embassy staff, BPI and UKTI staff are in attendance. I'm told David Cameron has highlighted Japan as a priority for UK export. I feel strangely important. I'm sitting here in Tokyo with a record I made in my bedroom representing UK export. How did that happen? That little voice in the back of my head "Fuck me I'm in Tokyo" - It just got a little louder. I speak to lots of people. Everyone is lovely. I hope we can work together.

 

Later, I'm off to a gig. I get a little overexcited when I realise the band I'm going to see is called "Trippple Nippple" and consists of two Japanese girls wearing cabbage leaves and black gaffer tape and very little else, with Elliott Hasiuk on drums, and a couple of lads who might have been from New Zealand on synths. Delightfully, we get invited out with the band for diner after the show. The girls undertake the whole exercise in costume - gig, taxi, and meal - and call me Mr. Manchester or Manchester Boy or similar. Well, actually girls, for the record, I'm nearer Stockport than Manchester, famous for the manufacture of fine hattery.

 

There was also a J-rock band called Zeno and the Oriental Machine. They were very good also. I've discovered that you can just stick "J-" in front of anything and it immediately becomes cool. Some music here is international (Gaga, Jay-Z, Madonna, The Beatles and so on), but most of it is J-pop, and with an industry much bigger than in the UK, that's a lot of J-pop. I resolve to go to HMV in the morning and check it out.

 

To be continued...

Into Japan...

Thursday 29 July 2010

御社の代表者の方が今年度のＢＰＩとＵＫＴＩの東京使節団のイベント（８月２日から６日）に出席させると訊きご連絡させて頂いています。 僕の名前はベン・ヘイワース(Ben Heyworth)、バンド／プロジェクト名　ディス・モーリング・コール (This Morning Call)という名前でオリジナルの音楽を作詞、作曲、録音しています。今年度の東京使節団のイベントに出席する予定で、僕の音楽を日本の音楽業界に紹介したいと思っています。 下のリンクは今回のイベントでも上映される予定の日本語訳付きのプロモーションビデオ（約２分）です。 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sh3Ug0KGV1g 東京訪問の際に機会があればぜひ直接お会いしたいのでもし興味がありましたらぜひご連絡下さい。 敬具ベン・ヘイワース

Manchester Scene Wipe

Sunday 18 July 2010

There is a lovely website here in Manchester that takes a great deal of joy in filming musicians playing acosutic versions of songs in odd or interesting locations. They are called Manchester Scene Wipe. I was lucky enough to be filmed by Toby and friends on a sunny day recently - and those of you who live here will know how rare it is to get a sunny day in the north of England - in fact, it was a proper scorcher!!

The video  came out really well. I'm playing "Clockworks" and sitting in Sackville Park in Manchester at the Beacon of Hope memorial. I'm wearing the Glastonbury hat - although attentive readers will know that I didn't go to Glasto this year because I am saving myself for JAPAN which is in two weeks!!!! HURRAH!

Anyway, here's the link - check it out and if you fancy leaving a lovely comment, don't hold back, I do like to read them: http://www.manchesterscenewipe.co.uk/2010/07/15/this-morning-call-2/

Forthcoming shows - July / August 2010

Thursday 24 June 2010

Plenty of This Morning Call related stuff coming up over the summer months to tempt you:

July 2nd - TMC DJ set at the Green Room, Whitworth Street, Manchester. With special guests.

July 4th - TMC full live band supporting The Herbaliser @ Moho, Manchester. Nr. Afflecks Palace. Cheap guest list available - email via contact page for details.

July 8th - Catch the full band live on the radio as we play a session for BBC Radio Lancashire, Introducing show with Sean McGinty.

July 9th - TMC DJ set at the Green Room, Whitworth Street, Manchester, With special guests.

August 2nd - 9th TMC in Japan. Bloggin, busking and titting about. Stay tuned for online updates on this very blog!

Hope to see you all soon!

Ben

Album Review in Attitude Magazine...

Sunday 20 June 2010

...and its a good 'un...

Great piece of national press from a friendly gayer...

They like me in Blackpool....

Sunday 6 June 2010

...although they are two months late with the review, bless them! Its the Blackpool Evening Gazette...

"Romance" - Live @ St.Clements Church

Tuesday 1 June 2010

Bit more You Tube footage here - filmed on the fly at our recent gig for the Chorlton Arts Festival - "Romance" featuring some very niffty sax work from that man Mark. filmed by Leebold Marks of the Brave.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ujYYPJmec0

feat.

Lucy Keyes, Bassoon

Mark Ward, Keys

David Lilley, Bass

Joe Weaver, Drums

Ben Heyworth, Vocals and guitar

Lisa Risbec/Danny Jones, Visuals

Filmed by Lee Marks

Track taken from the debut album "All Quiet At 4AM"

Goodnight, Goodnight! - Live @ St Clements Church

Tuesday 25 May 2010

Bit of You Tube footage here - filmed on the fly at our recent gig for the Chorlton Arts Festival - "Goodnight, Goodnight!", a very silly song, lets face it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZcjGO9iDpVM

feat.

Lucy Keyes, Bassoon

Mark Ward, Keys

David Lilley, Bass

Joe Weaver, Drums

Ben Heyworth, Vocals and guitar

Lisa Risbec/Danny Jones, Visuals

Filmed by Lee Marks

Track taken from the debut album "All Quiet At 4AM"

International feedback - Tides (Tech Mixes) release....

Thursday 20 May 2010

Dean Facer (OurHouse magazine / IDM magazine / United Colors Of House +
various, worldwide)
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 5/5
Feedback: Stunning, simply stunning..... I love all the mixes, very strong
track indeed.....

Alex Kenji (303Lovers/Hotfingers)
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 3/5
Feedback: good beat but not suitable on my djset. cheers

Claes Rosén
Favourite track: Tides (Theodor C Remix)
Rating: 4/5
Feedback: More laidback and nice. Thnx

Claes Rosén
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 4/5
Feedback: Kinda funny and sounds crisp

DJ Ray Velasquez (Billboard DJ/Reporter)
Favourite track: Tides (Alan Prosser Remix)
Rating: 3/5
Feedback: Nice. Thanks.

Trevor Nygaard (Stonk/DI.FM)
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 5/5
Feedback: Beatlab Remix is wicked, great work on the Vox!

Justin Testa (AOL Radio www.music.aol.com/r)
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 4/5
Feedback: I like it, i'll add it.

Tim Rial (none)
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 3/5
Feedback: Downloading for Audiojack who will feedback

Presslaboys (Presslab REcords)
Favourite track: Tides (Theodor C Remix)
Rating: 4/5
Feedback: very good production

nick warren (way out west/hope recordings)
Favourite track: Tides (Alan Prosser Remix)
Rating: 4/5
Feedback: very good mix

amo + navas (fresco records)
Favourite track: Tides (Alan Prosser Remix)
Rating: 3/5
Feedback: downloaded

Lorenzo al Dino (Royal Plastic / Jockey Club Ib)
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 4/5
Feedback: well made for a start up session at midnight !

Igor Tchkotoua (pig and dan) (sonic society)
Favourite track: Tides (Jenn Remix)
Rating: 3/5
Feedback: Im not really into the vocals if im honest but i like the beats
on the jenn remix

sarp yilmaz (ojojoj)
Favourite track: Tides (Alan Prosser Remix)
Rating: 5/5
Feedback: Every Remix in this Package is rockin it. will support all.

Trevor Nygaard (Stonk/DI.FM)
Favourite track: Tides (Alan Prosser Remix)
Rating: 5/5
Feedback: The Alan Prosser remix has all the makings of a nice driving
roller sure to get the floor moving!

samuel l session (soma, music man, be as one)
Favourite track: Tides (Theodor C Remix)
Rating: 3/5
Feedback: not really my thing this, sorry. too slick n minimal

Igor Tchkotoua (pig and dan) (sonic society)
Favourite track: Tides (Beatlab Remix)
Rating: 4/5
Feedback: Deep, groovy and refined for my early part of my set or early
morning, also enjoyed the jenn remix will play both

Burton Mail review...

Monday 10 May 2010

This was a really good one - so i thought I'd revisit it - plenty more press on the press page, as it happens! "This Morning Call" for the Mercury Music Prize! Yes, I say!

Excellent feedback from top DJ's...

Monday 26 April 2010

The Riley and Durrant collaboration with This Morning Call - "All I Leave behind" - seems to be going down very well in the DJ community....

 

Early feedback:

Laidback Luke – Wow, I really like this!
Tiesto – 5/5
Kim Fai – Really like this guys, thanks
Paul oakenfold – Digging this groovy techy sound from Riley & Durrant
Robbie Rivera – I like this
Kid massive – Love the quirky feel of the council estate mix
Sonny Wharton – Big release guys, Love it
Sharooz – Love the original, great vox and production
Oliver Lang – Full support from me
Miss Nine – 4/5
Carl Hanaghan – Really well produced

More feedback as it comes in...

 

DOWNLOAD THE SINGLE HERE:

 

BEATPORT

Ben reads the news...

Saturday 13 March 2010

My world seems to revolve around radio at the moment. I guess anybody putting out a record has to wrestle with it in the end. Musically speaking, the state of radio in the UK is already pretty dire and you'll probably be familiar now with the hullabaloo surrounding the proposed closure of 6Music and the Asian Network, so I wont go on about the ramifications. I'll just mention that the role 6Music plays in introducing new bands is pretty unique in radioland and many artists find success on the back of initial airplay on this station. Without it, their music might never be able to find a wider audience. You should all join the online campaign to save these stations here:

http://www.facebook.com/#/group.php?gid=278123313911&ref=ts []

I was lucky enough to find myself at the BBC Television Centre last week, and in particular, I was fortunate indeed to have a gander at the news services and studios that cater for Radio 5 and the various news channels. This was on the same day that they announced the proposed closure of the aforementioned channels, so there was a great deal of discussion around this while I was there.

Well, it's a hive of activity in there, I can tell you. It's a strange mixture of open plan office space, heavily technical areas with mixing desks and TV screens, and small studios with green screen or similar where the presenters sit. These are set slightly apart from the office areas, but not too far away, within easy spitting distance. Signs hanging above heads identify each different team - world service, Asian network and so on. It's a 24-hour building, and it could be anytime of day or night in the real world as the business of collecting news continues. Clocks on the wall remind us that it may be the middle of the night here, but it's breakfast time in Sydney, and beer-time in Manchester.

I thought it would be quite a cool, young sort of place, with everybody wearing trendy T-shirts and trainers and what have you. But in actual fact, the whole thing felt rather old fashioned. To me, who has spent more than enough time in horrible corporate offices, it all felt rather familiar. Everybody was pretty smartly turned out, ties, shirts and there was a surprising number of middle aged people - not that I have a problem with that, far from it - its just for some reason I thought it would be full of young, media types. It's not. I guess they only exist in Camden, not in the real world. Or maybe they work for Channel 4. I guess news gathering does require a degree of seriousness and sobriety.

Anyway, as you can see from the photo, I was quick to find the hot seat and have my photo taken. At one stage I was mistaken for a guest and nearly found myself being ushered onto one of the studios ready to discuss some critical issue. Fortunately, the mistake was quickly corrected when the real guest was found. I guess if I had actually found myself live on air discussing something terribly important that would have been rather fantastic and I'm sure I would have found something to say, oh yes... Maybe I could have taken the opportunity to vent my feelings around 6Music, or even plugged the album!

And on that note, I should mention that you can now pre-order "All Quiet At 4AM" via www.thismorningcall.com[] - the limited edition CD version is live and kicking and going for a tenner right now. I hope you'll all pay a visit to the online shop and reserve a copy. They are already selling fast.

Interview with Ben on BBC website...

Thursday 4 March 2010

Check it out here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/manchester/hi/people_and_places/music/newsid_8537000/8537011.stm

The best arms in the business...

Friday 26 February 2010

I'm in West London at the moment enjoying a couple of hours peace after a fairly frantic day yesterday. Time to catch up with the blog.

Just watching the Brits and....

Tuesday 16 February 2010

...sadly no "Jarvis" moments so far.

However, this is what I think about Lady Gaga, in verse no less -

 

Somewhere under that veil
There is a woman.
Frocked and robed,
As disciples gather round her piano
She preaches the joy of sex (and dancing).
To the converted.
"Holy cow", they say,
"Sacred, this ooh la la".
An electro beat descends, a silicon bitch
Arises blinking, a resurrection in Prada.

Well - probably not my best but there you go - not bad for a quick literary tinker. She's not wearing a veil though - don't know where I got that from.

Ooh, is that Prince Harry just come on after Florence? Didn't mute the sound for him did they!!

Kasabian - best band? JOKE!

:)

New Photo - "The Secular Man"

Sunday 14 February 2010

Change is in the air - as it frequently is around here - and regular visitors will have noticed a new photo up today on the home page. It's titled "The Secular Man" and its by Lisa Risbec and Matthew Dines, collectively known as Black Cherry Photography. They are a pair of happy snappers and would be delighted to hear from anybody who would like a photo shoot of their own! Contact them via the contact page. You do not have to be totally naked in ALL their pictures!

With a wiggle and a wobble...

Tuesday 9 February 2010

No question that being a "newbie" on the acoustic scene was something of a challenge. I'm known as a downtempo electronic pop producer, as most of you who have got your mits on a pre-release copy of the album will testify. But I'm not one to sit back and rest on my laurels. I mentioned on the radio on Sunday that I wanted to explore the songs from "All Quiet At 4AM" as fully as I could, and I stand by that. So it was time to pick up the guitar and start strumming.

This is how my first 72 hours (-ish) as an acoustic artist went:

Friday. 12.midday.
Get on the train to Hebden. Enjoy looking at the hills in the sunshine. Enjoy an empty train and some country smells. Enjoy plonking around with an acoustic guitar (safely tucked away at this stage in a soft case) feeling like an old troubadour from the 60's.
Arrive at Nigel's. Nigel plays cello on the album and was joining me for the one of the shows. Have a three-hour rehearsal and drink tea from the most enormous cup I've ever come across. Get all excited because it sounds good.

Friday 12.midnight.
Out for Lizzie's birthday. Lots of people out. I have some sparkling wine. Overdo it. Fall out of "Legends" at silly o'clock. Don't go straight home. Mistake.

Saturday 12.midday
Emergency hangover cures undertaken. Soup. Big Pie. Water. Paracetamol. Afternoon kip. Fingers crossed.

Saturday 6pm
Arrive at the Green Room in Manchester, Whitworth Street. Feel just about OK but need to warm up. Loads of bands and musicians floating about. General air of frivolity. Some sort of comedy band on before us, with costumes and flamboyancy. They are like a top draw wedding band. Fingers still a little shaky. Nigel arrives with family in tow. We disappear into a back room and have the second of two rehearsals. All goes well. I'm nervous as usual.

Saturday 7pm
Mid flow through the set. We can't hear anything onstage. Lots of noise from the bar downstairs, probably too much really. No monitors! Really need monitors, come on now, its not much to ask. Nigel struggles to hear the guitar. I make one massive fluff during "In Country" but overall we play well. It's the dawn of a great new acoustic age!

Sunday 2pm
Getting ready now for a trip up to North Manchester and an interview on Manchester Radio Online. Still feeling rough from Friday. Vocal chords seem to have frozen up. I try a few warm ups which seem to help. That's the thing about singing; you are at the mercy of biology. You have good days, and less good days. It's all part of it. Also, you tend to improve later in the day. Evening recording for vocals is a must.

Sunday 3pm
Decided foolishly to walk from town to Manchester Radio Online, which is in some pub called The Mission. Can't say it's a regular drinking hole for me. Its cold and my hands are now freezing. Need to warm them up before playing but I'm running late, so it's straight on air and before I know it I'm singing and playing and chatting on air. Open my mouth to sing "Salt" and it sounds shambolic. Presenters also keep getting the name of the album mixed up with the name of the band, apparently having overdosed on jelly babies. Jelly babies? Not ideal.

Sunday 4pm
We come to the end of the show. The rendition of "Salt" was crap but I think the others came off, "Deserted" and "Clockworks". The vocals were not up to my usual standard and there was much covering up fluffs with improvisation. Hope it sounded OK. Berate myself for not being good enough. Punishment - walk back into town in the cold. Accidentally go to Via. More drinking.

Sunday 10pm
Arrive back home full of curry. Have a cuppa and take stock. Saturday night, played well, struggled with technical issues and a loud bar. Sunday, did my best but could do better. But nothing was awful. CDs were sold. That's always a sign that people enjoyed it. So I live and learn. And I plough on. More acoustic gigs please!

Next week - I'm learning to DJ - I shit you not! A treat coming soon for those of you in London town...

Photo by Caite Mcbride

Here is the evidence...

Tuesday 26 January 2010

Yes, we really did go to Brighton. Here I am, wearing stage gear and the Glastonbury hat!

...And onto Brighton

Monday 25 January 2010

After the stress and the strain of London, and my momentary existential panic brought on by last night's show, we made haste to leave the capital, hoping that beyond the confines of the urban jungle there might lie a more peaceful alternative. It was not long before we found ourselves freed from the shackles of the smog and the dirt, once again on the open road, and heading for the south coast. Sea breezes, fish and chips, and blue skies awaited.

It's only a short hop from London to Brighton, and there was barely time to relax into the journey before we arrived. I'd never been to Brighton before, and was delighted that the skies had indeed cleared and the milky winter sun was desperately trying to warm us against a biting wind blowing in off the Atlantic. Having parked our monster truck safely, we took the opportunity to have a dally down the promenade.

Saxaphone maestro Mr. Mark Ward had spotted some fairground attractions at the end of the pier, and being a thrill seeker, he made all speed to check them out. Alas, the larger rides demanded too great a fare for the young saxophanist, and he had to settle for a ride on the bucking bronco, which was only a quid a pop.

"Stay on for 30 seconds and you'll win a cuddly toy!", exclaimed the owner. It looked so simple, and 30 seconds isn't long. The young man who attempted to master the beast prior to Mark seemed to have a good stab at it too. So it was with confidence that our fearless cowboy mounted the bullock and took hold of the strap. We expected fireworks, we expected blazing saddles, we expected glory! What we got was a squeel and a jolt, and in an instant Mark was flat on his back, lamenting the slippery hide and the rocking motion, to which he failed to maintain sufficient grip a mere 2 seconds into his ride.

Fortunately, he had two more attempts. He picked himself up and dusted himself down. "I will not be beaten", he said, "I simply will not be beaten!".

Sadly, he was, and the cuddly toys remained firmly out of reach. As I suspect they have been for quite some time. Possibly some years. They were certainly very dusty. Perhaps the sea salt had already started to rot their insides.

We contented ourselves with another amusement - lesbian spotting. It's like "where's wally", but with dykes. And as Mark remarked, "there's many a lesbian in Brighton."

Amidst all this frivolity, we were reminded that we had a gig to play, and we turned our attention to The Latest Music Bar. In fact, it was a jolly good job that we did, because due to my own incompetence, I managed to cause what can only be described as a major technical hitch. By failing to insert the MIDI interface into the correct USB port, I confused the installed driver and prevented the laptop from operating correctly.

Thankfully, after an hour of tearing my hair out (what's left of it anyway), Danny Jones, our AV tech and IT guru, came to the rescue and managed to download and re-install a driver on the laptop which miraculously sorted everything out. Thank God for wi-fi internet and downloadable drivers. That was a close shave. Had this miracle of IT troubleshooting not come off, we would have struggled to get a set together and looked rather silly, with a long drive home.

Well, the doors opened late, but not too late, and once I'd pulled myself together, I was able to enjoy two excellent support acts. Jenny Stanley, who produced music, comedy and unexpected cakes, and Matt Alexander, a gent from the local music college, the Brighton Institute of Modern Music. Both did us proud and I was very happy for the support they were able to offer. Great to make some new friends in a new town.

The Latest Music Bar is a small, intimate venue and one in which I think we probably produced the best performance of the weekend. Unlike London, when we were confronted with potential ravers, party people and Camden wannabies, Brighton was a tables and chairs job, with little candles and a calm atmosphere. I think that suited our mood that day and was a perfect Sunday night chill out session. I certainly enjoy those sorts of gigs A good family atmosphere, you might say. We got paid the grand total of £15. Well, you've got to start somewhere.

The drive home was conducted in record time, and I'm not joking but everybody in the back of the van fell asleep and was completely silent for the duration. It was like we'd taken the kids out, they'd got over-tired and had to sleep all the way home. It was the least rock and roll moment of the weekend. Even the normally hyperactive Mr. David Lilley was still and silent. Well, you can't blame them, many of them had to be up for work on Monday, and we didn't leave Brighton until about midnight. It was a trek but it could have been a lot worse. Although the jelly babies had run out, we had Jenny Stanley's cake to keep us going. The motorways were quiet, the van warm and toasty. I nodded, but didn't sleep properly. 

So that was the tour. OK, OK, I know I'm stretching things to describe two dates as a tour, but you've got to live the dream while you can, so I don't care. I think (I hope!) everybody had a good time, I know I certainly did. The Collectable Few got their missing bag back. Musicians got to work on time on Monday. We had free beer and sticky cake. Superdriver John finally got some sleep. CD's were sold, we made some new fans, and gigs were played, and overall, fantastic!

And I gave away 250 "This Morning Call" pinbadges. Lovely!

Reflections on Recent Gigs - London Sat 16th Jan 2010

Friday 22 January 2010

As I'm sure many of you are aware, TMC recently took to the road for the first time to perform live in three contrasting venues here in the UK. It was an experience I'll never forget and, of course, as our first outing, it demands a few words from me here in blogspace! 

This Morning Call live is a strange animal. For a start, we are many. We had five musicians and three crew in total. That's ten legs, forty fingers, eight instruments, two laptops, a projector, four boobies and a combined age of 261. We had a whole drum kit, a synth rig and full backline to cart about. Plus we were planning to drive the full length and breadth of the country over 48 hours. We came armed with sleeping pills, red bull, sandwiches in a Tupperware box, hip flasks, jelly babies and ipods. We were a determined bunch indeed!

Our transport for the weekend was a large green van, complete with DVD player, comfy seats, a table and a fridge. Luxury indeed, you might think. We were delighted. Also, it was a speedy little thing, as we were to discover on the long trip home from Brighton on the Sunday night, completed in record time, fortunately for those who had to go to work on Monday morning.

Your designated driver, John, did a sterling job over the weekend, and safely took us down to Camden on the Saturday in good time for the soundcheck at 5pm. We rolled up at the Proud Galleries, a fussy little place situated in the centre of the famous Camden horse hospital market. By day, Proud is a private art gallery that tends to exhibit photographs of famous people such as Jarvis Cocker and Debbie Harry, as well as some excellent Withnail prints that excited our drummer, who is an uncontrollable fan. By night, it turned into a club and party venue for Camden wannabies, or Camdenites as I started to refer to them, and by 10pm they were queuing out the door and half way down the street.

We managed to get the sound perfect in the soundcheck, which is amazing really, as we don't have our own engineer and frequently have to wing it. Feeling jolly pleased with ourselves, we decamped to grab a sandwich and chill out. We weren't due to be onstage until 11pm. Plenty of time, everybody was happy, nothing had gone wrong yet - surely there's some mistake??

The London show was notable in that we were due to have a Swedish visitation! Yes folks, the men from the record label were coming. Hakan and friends, with whom I have developed a trusting and useful relationship via the means of hotmail over the past year or so, had flown over from Gothenburg to say hello face to face. Brilliant. Turns out he's a lovely chap, and shorter than I was expecting. Everybody else I've ever met from Scandinavia has been really tall! Great to finally put a face to the name.

I wasn't expecting the night to be quite as "electro" as it was, and the DJ clearly had instructions to work everybody up into a frenzy prior to our show, not realising that we, of course, are actually quite a mellow affair. As a result, I think it took everybody, including the band, three songs to realise what on earth was going on when we took to the stage. Our gentle, lilting songs at the start of the set were perhaps a little light for the night, but that's live performance for you, and we were rocking by the time we reached the end of the set with the likes of "The Actor" and "Goodnight" sounding really good. The onstage sound wasn't great, but at least I could hear the singing loud and clear - I've lost count of the number of gigs I've done over the years with various other bands, where the singing just disappears into the air and you can't hear a thing.

After the show, the free beer! Hurray! You can't argue with that. And of course, we had free beer at the Manchester show too, and so did the audience, so that was a real treat, and one which I'm all for. Although, it had to be said that by this stage, I was flagging. It was time to get the gear back to the van and get the hell out of there. We accidently packed one of the other band's bags, containing car keys and mobile phone - not good! Many apologies to The Collectable Few for that little misdemeanor. I do hope we'll be forgiven. Once we'd managed to negotiate the rude bouncers and the pissed public, we were on our way to the Youth Hostel in Holland Park for some much needed kip. We entered the dorm, the first time I'd slept in a dormitory since school I might add, to discover some empty beds that required some mountaineering to access, and some really loud snoring that kept me awake for a while. But I soon drifted into the deep sleep of the undead and that was that, as they say.

What a day. When you are both the tour manager, merchandise seller and lead singer it can really take it out of you. Everybody wanted to talk to me but I just didn't have enough time to converse properly. I must admit, I did feel that night that perhaps we'd bitten off more than we could chew. It was the stress of London, the crowds, the heavy lifting, and the performance that had knocked me for six. I envy bands who have the tour bus and the roadies, the backroom staff and the manager who does all the worrying for you. Still, overall and despite everything, it can only been deemed a success. The audience enjoyed it, they danced, we danced, we played well, drank free beer and nothing catastrophic happened.

TMC's Cultural Highlights of the Decade - Part Two

Wednesday 6 January 2010

Let me get this book review in quickly before we all trudge down to the cinema to see the film adaptation of this classic novel later next month. I'm sure it will be good, and the trailers look great, but let's not chance it. I'm not normally picky about such things, but in this instance, read the book first. The book in question is "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. (The picture is the author in question.)

This novel should be read on a cool, crisp day overlooking the hills, with winter nipping at your toes. I read it on holiday in Italy in 2008, with blue skies, warm sun and with my feet dangling into an over-chlorinated swimming pool. I guess I wasn't expecting to be swept away so dramatically into McCarthy's vision of the apocalypse, for this novel is bleak, uncompromising and horrific both in incident and implication.

What struck me the most from this slim volume is the conservation of language; for the most part composed of short, sharp paragraphs, with brief conversational exchanges. Descriptions are eloquent and evocative, but there is no time to linger. Perhaps our protagonist is too world weary to offer a more lengthy prose. After all, he is a broken man. An unspecified disaster has reduced the world to a frozen cinder. The sun never comes up because it is obscured by clouds of ash and debris. A permanent winter chill has settled over the land. The remains of civilisation, bodies frozen in hardened tar, and the survivors, cannibals, the insane, nod to "Lord of the Flies ", as they form packs of marauding gunslingers. His worsening health is suggestive of cancer, his dreams are full of nightmare images and flashes from a past that has long since disappeared.

This apocalyptic drama pressed all the right buttons. Moments of horror litter the narrative, from barbecued babies to a locked larder of half eaten people. There are dramatic narrow escapes, and moments of joy with the discovery of a warm bed for the night, or some unspoilt food source. Never have unopened tins of pears been made to sound so appetising.

The father, for he remains unnamed, is accompanied by his young son. He is desperate to protect him. They are journeying down the road in search of a warmer climate without which they will surely die. On a very simple level, the youngster represents the future of the human race. Of course he must be protected, or that's it, the end of the species. But in the face of such horror, the need to instil a moral code becomes paramount. How can a child be taught what is right and good in the world, when the world has been turned upside down, and death stalks the freeway? This is central question.

This novel is also about love, both in the paternal relationship between the two characters, but also a love owed to the human race, to the protection of the future, to survival, to the human spirit. This is why such a novel is not depressing, rather uplifting. The greatest of mankind survives in the hope and the love of one man, who, against all the odds, remains "the good guy". It's easy to forget, in these dangerous times, that mankind is capable of such generosity and depth of feeling, even in the worst of circumstances.

"The Road" is the finest book of the decade. We should pause for breath here.

Those of you who know me personally will know that I'm allowed to pick Maximo Park as a noughties musical favourite for purely personal reasons, but I wont dwell on that here, I'll instead mention the three very fine albums that this band have produced over the decade, and suggest that the second, "Our Earthly Pleasures", is one of my favourite records of the decade.

Ok, maybe it wasn't received as well as the first album, "A Certain Trigger", which, lest we forget, was nominated for the Mercury, but I would argue that the follow up is a stronger, more complete record, with excellent production throughout and some original and very satisfying tunes. The trio of tracks that open the album - "Girls Who Play Guitars", "Our Velocity" and "Books From Boxes" - are as good an opening to a rock album as you can get, full of energy, vigour and verve. Live, the band make the most of these classics, and having attended several shows over the past few years, audiences have responded with gusto to each. In a decade which invented the term "landfill indie" to describing flash-in-the-pan, middle-class white boys with guitars (such as The Pigeon Detectives and The Maccabees), it is good to know that the genre can still accommodate the maverick whims of real artists willing to stick a boot in to create a riot.

The band has often been noted for its lyrical prowess, and singer Paul Smith certainly commands a large vocabulary. This approach has, for the most part, worked well. It is his gift for describing the broken hearted in terms that appeal to the cod-intellectualism of recently graduated art students that have created popularity. Similarly, the marriage of high energy, up tempo drama coupled with genuine melody made this a winning formula; the pounding drums that kick off "The Unshockable", for example, and even to the last track, where "Parisian Skies" teases with balladry with its low key introduction before bolting off once again for a final flourish.

Like most indie rock bands, Maximo are destined to live large and die young. Their third album, Quicken the Heart, was a fine record in my eyes, but too many was something of a disappointment. We must remember that a younger audience is fickle. It will not stand by and celebrate a single artist for long before moving onto the next. Very few bands of this ilk command longevity. I expect, should a fourth album be conceived, that a change of direction may be on the cards. Nevertheless, over the last few years, this has been something of a treat, a global success, and an example of British rock at its best, and if anybody can pull this off, they can. Long may it continue.

You will know that a major highlight of my year is the annual pilgrimage down to Pilton for the Glastonbury Festival. The noughties were a decade in which festival going slipped completely into the mainstream. There were multitudes of differing events, catering for all tastes and all comers. The granddaddy of them all, of course, was Glastonbury.

It is almost inconceivable to imagine that just a few short years ago, there was a question mark over the both the relevance and the future of this British institution. For a few years, bad weather plagued the festival site, turning green fields into muddy swamps, and some elitist yet blinkered musicians began to publicly question the programming. "What right has hip-hop to gatecrash the headline slot?" they argued, referring to the fact that an American rapper, Jay-Z, had been announced as the festival headliner in 2008, "It's not what the public want. Bring back Oasis". The mood was reflected in slower than usual ticket sales and for the first time organiser Michael Eavis admitted concern that the festival may not be able to deliver on its regular charitable donations.

The way the festival has answered its critics and continued to deliver content, artistry and atmosphere in spades, for a fan like me, is wonderful. The aforementioned rapper delivered a triumphant set that showed up Noel Gallagher and friends, and perhaps caused them to regret their words. Festival attendees delighted in being able to choose from a huge variety of different acts and artists spread across many different stages. There was truly something for everyone, as well as the opportunity to stumble across something new that blows you away.

Perhaps Glastonbury is best enjoyed as several different festivals rolled into one. There is the televised, trumpeted and hyped performers than populate the Pyramid stage, and the indie wannabes that tend to play on the Other Stage. You've got the "Dance Village" for dance and electronic music fans. You've got the circus and comedy big tops. You've got paganism and alternative spiritual fields, which includes the stone circle, which you must visit. You've got the green futures and Greenpeace areas. Finally, you've got the truly alternative and mysterious world of Shangri-La, which used to be called Lost Vagueness, which come to life at night, and inevitably involves being hopelessly lost and cider-drunk until the early hours and exhaustion overcomes you.

That certain kinds of contemporary art are by now indivisible from entertainment may seem a truth too obvious to mention. Some of the most spectacular art events of the last decade were equally bent on drawing us together - not just for the fun of it, but to reveal our common humanity. I think it's also fair to say that, in the noughties, big was most certainly better. Above all Miroslav Balka's How It Is in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern, an immense steel container which drew us into its seething black depths, felt the most vital and influential of the venue's installations.

The lure was curiosity, once inside, completely black and empty, aside from other visitors, who bumped and wobbled their way around, trying to avoid shunting a total stranger. Turning to leave, you met your successors hesitating on the threshold like fearful shadows and suddenly the meaning of the work emerged - spiritual, tragic, and universal - here, common human experience revolving around the discovery of what lies in the dark. Oh the irony of stripping away our sense of sight, leaving an artwork that revolves around what we can't see and exists only in our minds.

I've loved the large installations that have inhabited the Turbine Hall in the Tate Modern. The gallery has long been one of my haunts on various trips to London, a sanctuary against the weather, against boredom, or crowds. Almost every trip I've enjoyed to the capital has resulted in a visit. The excitement stems from just how big, and just how dramatic these installations can be when done well.

I guess that covers everything I wanted to talk about. I hope you found that as interesting to read as I did to write. Honorary mentions should go to Russell T Davis' reimagined Doctor Who, which I have loved, David Mitchell for various novels including Cloud Atlas, and great albums from Bjork, Animal Collective, Wild Beasts, Friendly Fires, Elbow and many others. Short of turning this whole thing into a disseration of PhD proportions, I think I'll leave it at that for now.

As usual, I welcome your comments and suggestions for your own cultural highlights from the last ten years.

TMC’s Cultural Highlights of the Decade - Part One

Wednesday 6 January 2010

At this time of year, the popular press delight in presenting their top tens, reviews of the year and other such countdowns that serve to illustrate just how right they were all along in predicting cultural trends and populist movements across the arts. This year will have the added bonus of being the end of a decade, so we can expect even more of this self-congratulatory editorial and the shelves will be groaning with reviews and journalistic analysis.

You may detect a hint of cynicism here, and you'd be right. Before we plunge into the land of someone else's opinion, we must remember that we are no longer shackled by the whims of the cultural elite. With the advent of online newspapers, when invited to "comment" the average guardian reader delights in disagreeing so vehemently that what was once a definitive list is subsumed into petty squabble by comment number 25.

However, because I still maintain pretensions with regards to doing this professionally one day, I thought I'd selfishly have a go at compiling my own list of personal big hitters from the last ten years. Well, you know what they say, "if you can't beat them, join them".

For this list, I've decided to dip my toes into the worlds of music, film, art, design, technology and literature.

In the noughties, devoid of any radical cultural shifts, for the first time more was written about how we consume music than the music itself. The media turned its attention to the death of the traditional music industry and the rise of the digital consumer. Central to this was the technology that has made it all possible; the internet, and the reach of portable devices that literally allow you to have a record collection in your pocket. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce, the Ipod.

You'll all be familiar with this unassuming little creature. Smooth lines, pocket-sized, touch screen or dial operated. This is an iconic piece, and a triumph of design, where functionality is not compromised despite the minimalist aesthetic. It fits neatly into your pocket in a smooth way that a walkman never did, and newer models come resplendent with wireless internet and space for literally thousands of tracks, video clips and other bits of content. The Ipod is simply something which, once upon a time, existed in science fiction. Now, it seems so logical and essential that it's hard to imagine a world without one; similarly the mobile phone, which ten years previous, revolutionised the 90's, and has proved to be equally indispensable.

But it's the design aesthetic that I want to highlight here. It really is very pretty. It harks back to classic modernism but looks forward to a technological utopian future made of glass and run by intelligent machines. The little box reflects current architectural trends with lots of gherkin curves and wipe-clean glass, and even has its own noughties "retro" feature - the Apple logo - allowing it to put one foot in the future and one foot in the past. Recent devices are able to sense if you are holding them in portrait or landscape, and adjust accordingly. When on shuffle, my Ipod has a tendency to pick songs that seem to go together, perhaps registering a commonality in the title or the artist, or perhaps the tempo. "Let's say a prayer to the shuffle gods", we say. Well, let me tell you this, I'm convinced the shuffle gods are real...!

Well, perhaps that's taking my devotion a little too far, but it's not difficult to overemphasis how much I enjoy all this music at the touch of a button, even if we are still some way from "AI-pods".

It's hard to believe that the Ipod was invented in 2001 and already has become part and parcel of daily life. A little piece of design that feels classic, yet remains resolutely contemporary and will undoubtably become iconic.

Next up, from the world of film, it's "Pan's Labyrinth" dir. by Guillermo Del Torro. Well, it was a toss up between this and "A Serious Man" from the Coen Brothers, but I only saw that the other week, so I probably need to give it time to settle. It is very good though. And I did think about "The Lord of the Rings" movies, which I loved, but as this is an original story, I think it has the edge.

"Pan's Labyrinth" is a film about the Spanish Civil War re-imagined as a child's supernatural dream. The film expertly blurs the distinction between the violent, adult world of the uncompromising fascist, and the imaginary world of Pan, a character born of escapist imagination. Pan appears as a vision from the underworld in a dilapidated, labyrinthine garden and informs our protagonist, Ofelia, a young girl, that she is in fact a lost princess and must undertake a series of tasks to prove her real identity.

This film is one of many superb fantasy pictures that have graced our cinemas in the last ten years. Advances in technology have enabled photorealism in computer graphics, and this has inspired directors to create ever more elaborate and immersive fantasy worlds. "Pan's Labyrinth" is particularly effective because it doesn't overplay its hand in the depiction of its fantastical elements. Sequences including the retrieval of a key from the stomach of a giant frog and the escape from the dining room of a child eating demon, the "Pale Man", are interspersed episodically throughout the film. For the most part, the narrative takes place in the real world, a world of fascism, rebellion and war. Indeed, there is nothing fantastical about the naked displays of casual violence, torture and other war time atrocities on display here. The commander is unsympathetic, brutal and unforgiving to his staff, and at times sadistic, murderous and bloody. At the outset, graphic violence is illustrated at length, but as the film continues, incidents of extreme violence become more causal, almost routine, the victims dehumanised and forgotten.

Of course, in cinema, we are often led to believe in the power of imagination, and the "dream made real" motif is a classic narrative device beloved of Disney and many others. Faced with the reality of the Spanish Civil War, it is no wonder that our protagonist wants to escape into a fantasy world apparently of her own devising. But this film is deliciously dark and full of metaphor; the "dream world" consciously parallels the real, and is equally as dangerous. There is no escape from monsters, human or otherwise, for our protagonist, in either reality.

There are architectural juxtapositions. Notice how the structural lines in the underworld are curved, grandiose and impossible. In contrast, the real world is full of straight lines, square brick and rural charm. The "real" dining room is rationed and empty while the Pale Man's dining room is full of food, providing an irresistible temptation for Ofelia. The colour palette of the movie codes the real world with gunpowder black and grey, earthy greens and blue, while the underworld is full of outrageous gold, red and yellow, opulent, warm and inviting. As the real world trudges on, Pan grows younger, as though he is moving in reverse, his relationship with time constantly in flux. The effect leads the viewer to question which is the true reality, or perhaps which is the most desirable reality. Despite the flesh eating frogs and demons, surely the fantasy world, with its promise of royalty, adventure and opulence, can be her only choice.

If there is a sense that the magical can somehow interfere with the everyday, then the resolution takes this idea to a logical extreme, cleverly linking both the real and imaginary worlds. The barriers between life and death itself are blurred. It is an emotional and disturbing end to a fabulous film. I urge you to watch it at once.

Part Two of this blog up shortly!!

Me and the bike...

Tuesday 1 December 2009

Today, I'm going to give the music a break and revisit an old blogging topic, cycling. So sit down, pour a glass of the good stuff, and listen up!

Avid readers may remember that some months ago I was telling you about my rediscovered love of cycling and how, by rejecting four wheels in favour of two, I took great delight in reconnecting with my nine-year old self. If memory serves, "Boys and Bikes" was the headline.

I'm still puffing and panting my way to the day job every morning, astride a two-wheeled old faithful, the distance having grown from three kilometres to six, one way, due to a change of employer. On a good day, most days in fact, that's twelve kilometres in saddle, and for me, a substantial forty-five minute endurance challenge despite being conducted entirely across the flat plains of South Manchester.

Of course, if there is even a hint of rain in the air, then the temptation to slob it on the bus overwhelms me. Cycling in the rain is awful. Perhaps not so bad on the way home, as an embarrassingly long shower can revitalise tired limbs and dry clothes are within easy reach, but on the way to work, arriving bedraggled and red-faced, to be met by obese administrators for whom the blustery, five minute walk from the car park compounds their daily misery into cloying disapproval - "well, you'd think he would at least wear a tie to work!" they mutter, cake in hand.

How easy it is to snuggle on the bus, ipod in hand, duffle coated and hooded to the cold, inching forward one revolution at a time in busy traffic, a book in hand should I resolve to find another inch of intellectual aptitude before I get home and a glass of red wine as deep as the ocean finally robs me of my capacity for rational thought, flat out on the sofa, watching Paxman.

No. I'm on the bike, dodging traffic, dodging pedestrians, dodging potholes as seemingly deep as the Grand Canyon itself. A splash of muddy water soaks into my trainers, white socks turn brown with the sediment, my legs the colour of chocolate below the knee while above, pink and shivering with the cold. I have to wear cricket gloves in the winter because otherwise I loose all feeling in my hands after the first five minutes of blistering wind and can't operate the gears. Water vapour from my breath condenses on my chin giving me a beard of freezing, icy droplets, while my nose doesn't stop running, and I am trailed by a long streak of snot like saliva round a rabid dog's snout.

I ask myself why I'm putting myself through this daily routine. The glamour of the bicycle has finally evaporated. I don't recall my nine-year old self ever having to deal with this. Have I finally become the victim of an overly romanticised childhood?

I'm not alone in persisting with pedal power despite the inclement weather and the frosty mornings. I'm not alone in cycling exactly the same route, day after day. There are others who are willing to take up the challenge. There is a bizarre cyclist politics that governs the streets of south Manchester. Those who go too slow or sit bolt upright will be overtaken, but only by cyclists with drop-down handle-bars and a curved spine. Cyclists without helmets shall be shunned forever more, as are those who ride those ridiculous fold-up bikes. Those inappropriately dressed shall be forced off the road, destined to dodge the very young and the very old until they can afford a bright yellow waterproof. The very serious or the very camp shall only wear Lycra cycling shorts.

Spinning out from under the railway bridge I can track the variable colour scheme of Cringle Park through the seasons, the flocks of seagulls massing on the watery football pitch looking for breakfast, and the early morning smells of the biscuit factory cutting across the unleaded stench of queuing vehicles. I bob and weave through Didsbury, with the expansive mock-Tudor housing on Fog Lane, and on to Northenden, where kebab shops and take-aways dominate the high street, and finally onto another park, Wythenshawe Park. By now the dog walkers are out in force and one must endure occasional tedious heckling from groups of feral youths from the estate. (I exaggerate slightly here, for comic effect)

A wind is almost always blowing across Wythenshawe Park, and not a gentle breeze either, but a cruel howling gale, that threatens to launch you from the saddle onto the concrete below or into the path of some passing trailer. Yet battling atmospheric forces is one way of owning the park, like running the streets to the patter of "there's no place like home", I feel a cool sense of belonging amongst the trees and my invisible tormentor. It wont be long now, I always think, before heating and sofa and TV, so damn you wind, I will go faster...

This Morning Call on iLike - Add iLike to your MySpace

Might need a cup of tea for this one...

The video blog - pt 2 - In The City, at the bar...

Thursday 26 November 2009

Right folks, Here's part 2 of the increasingly silly video blog put together by Danny the Cameraman and featuring some extremely insightful comments from me about In The City.... "What is In The City?" (thinks....) "What IS In The City?" (thinks some more.....) "Well, its in the city, not in the country...." And relax.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsHTc47ZVJY

Thanks.

First look at CD artwork...

Sunday 22 November 2009

My colleague and friend Alex has been busy working on a concept for the album cover.... Time for a sneaky preview, especially as the finished CD's turned up this week. They look amazing, and hopefully you'll think they look and sound amazing too, when its finally released next year.

"All Quiet At 4AM" by This Morning Call. Can you see what we did there?
PS. A little recommendation - You should all check out the Wild Beasts album "Two Dancers" - its great.

Ben

Orange Glow hits 10,000 plays! Yay!

Monday 9 November 2009

It may have escaped your notice, but the world's shortest ambient song "Orange Glow" has finally hit 10,000 plays on MySpace. Lets celebrate by revisiting Mark Homewood's Idle Hands Remix of the aforementioned tune... here it is, helpfully uploaded to You Tube for easy access....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7mAMb6cu34

Enjoy. x

An Interview with "This Morning Call" - from listentomanchester.co.uk

Tuesday 27 October 2009

Author: Rick and Tom from ListentoManchester.co.uk
Published on: Monday, 26 Oct 2009

ThisMorning Call, the brain child of Ben Heyworth has been described as "Portishead on anti-depressants" and "LCD Soundsystem with a hangover".

He has also been described as "one of the most wonderful acts we have heard this year" by Channel 4 and is set to release his debut album "All Quiet at 4AM" in January 2010.

We caught up with Ben to have a chat about his future and music in Manchester.

Hello Ben, how are you? Introduce yourself to us.
Hi. I’m Ben Heyworth, better known as singer/songwriter/producer “This Morning Call”

(Obvious question number 1) How did the band get together?
Well, its just me actually, when I set about working on the album it became pretty clear that it was going to be more of a solo work with collaborators rather than working with a full band. When I play live, it’s a full band, but the line-up can change. So I am “This morning Call”

(Obvious question number 2) Where did the band name come from? Why This Morning Call?
Well, there was this newspaper in America called The Morning Call who printed a controversial photograph from 9/11 of a chap falling to his death. It was an incredible photo, very beautiful in terms of composition and colour, but also very shocking because it was literally a man caught in the process of jumping or falling. A lot of people felt it should never have been printed, it upset them, and caused major controversy. I thought that was a brilliant juxtaposition and wouldn’t it be great to make music that was both beautiful and structured, but also packed a similar emotional punch if you peel back the layers and investigated the story behind it, just like that photo.

(Obvious question number 3) Your sound is pretty eclectic, who are your influences?
There’s a variety of stuff really – quality European pop and dance music, electronic music of all descriptions, classic songwriters – that sort of thing mostly. I guess there are particular tracks or albums that have been very influential – I’d cite “homogenic” by Bjork, or “hunting high and low” by A-ha as examples. Also, I’m never far from the influence of Britpop in my music because that’s when I first got into music – my favourite album is “modern life is rubbish” by Blur!

The band has been receiving some encouraging reviews with Channel 4 calling you "one of the most wonderful acts we have heard this year". Has that opened any doors for you?
A great review is always welcome. I was “band of the week” on Channel 4 online and I’m still getting milage out of that review. They do a lot to help new acts.

Your debut album is called "All Quiet at 4AM" . How did you record it and who did you work with?
The album is out on 11th Jan 2010. I recorded it at home by myself on a laptop. You can do that sort of thing these days, the technology is there. Various others contributed bass, guitar, cello, drums and even bassoon – these are the people who also come and play live with me. It was a great way to work and cost nothing. Rob Cross (Orphan Boy) is on one of the tracks playing guitar, Dave Lilley (Diesler, Double Yellow) plays bass on most of the album.

Tides will be first single released off the Album. Was it an obvious choice for you?
Its out on 23rd Nov so I’ve no idea what the response will be yet! Hopefully good. You’ll download it, I hope!? The label (Substream) wanted it to be the first single and I thought “why not”! People seem to like it.

How did you attract the attention of your labels Substream (SE) and Pearl Diver (DE)?
Well, through MySpace really. Pearl Diver are a German dance music label and they wanted to do a 12” remix EP – and they have sometimes worked with Substream so there was a connection there. Substream are based in Sweden and work across pop and dance music styles and were up for doing the album with me.

How are they helping you?
Substream are well placed to market the release in Europe and they specialise in working with international DJ’s so that’s what they will be concentrating on.

You stated in your blog that you think that the process of buying music on the high street is dead. Whats the future?
I just can’t see any reason why you would want to shop in HMV anymore! I prefer to buy online these days. One click and you’ve got the track straight away. Brilliant. There’s no question that is how most people will buy their music in the future.

Do bands need the music industry? Has the internet opened opportunities for DIY bands, or is it as hard to break through as it always has been?
Well, undoubtably you can be a DIY band with a quality tune and the internet will help you get it out there and more people will hear it. On the other hand, we are now so saturated with stuff that it is just as hard to “break through” as it has ever been! Although you don’t necessarily need a major label anymore, you still need perseverance and some good marketing ideas to make it work.

What local bands have you played great gigs with? Apart from This Morning Call, who should we be looking out for?
There’s loads of great acts in Manchester really – too many for me to name here! My advice would be to get out there and go to some gigs! A good place to start would be the BBC Introducing nights – they always have good people on. Another favourite are the Green Bohemia events at the Green Room run by Stuart Avery.

What’s the best Manchester venue you’ve ever played?
I really enjoyed playing on one of the stages at Manchester PRIDE, but that was a temporary erection, if you’ll excuse the pun, so if I was to pick a regular venue I’d say I enjoyed our recent show at the Green Room the most and therefore that’s my favourite venue right now.

Most bands experience the shit gig? Usually in Macclesfield, or a pub just outside Bolton. Where was yours, and why was it bad?
The worst gig I ever did was at the Head of Steam pub in Newcastle. The sound was awful, we’d had a big argument the night before so no one was in a good mood, and I played badly. Fortunately that was a few years ago and it was a different band! But it does stick in the mind somewhat!

What one thing should happen to make gigging in Manchester better?
Bands should stop playing shit gigs and think more carefully about how and when to present themselves.

Rockrobotrock described you as "one of the most remarkable singers to emerge from the indie deadzone of Manchester in recent history".
Manchester has recently being getting a hard time with the NME claiming we’ve lost direction and spirit. Why do you think Manchester is getting so much flack at the moment?
I don’t agree that we have lost direction and spirit – there has never been such a fantastic and diverse collection of artists in this city. NME talks shite most of the time these days anyway. Although I do think people need to stop going on about Manchester’s musical legacy all the time. It was great back in the day but can we move on?? The Stone Roses, The Smiths, The Hacienda, New Order, Oasis – enough already!

Daddy or chips?
I have no idea what you are on about so I’ll say chips because I do like a nice chippy tea.

hurrah!
visit listentomanchester.co.uk - its great!
best wishes,
Ben

A Trip to London

Saturday 24 October 2009

Well, I'm a bit behind on some of these blog entries due to In The City and various other bits and pieces that have been going on, so I've got alot to tell you!

First up, my recent trip to London! I was supposed to be going down for meetings and whatnot, but due to a combination of sickness, last moment changes and getting the dates mixed up, all my appointments were cancelled! And I'd got the 5.13am train! Oh no...

What's a boy to do when he's down south with a blank agenda? Why, soak up as much culture as possible of course!

I struggled out of Euston station with the morning communters and plonked myself on a tube train down to Embankment.

A morning walk down by the Thames - a mucky, drab affair, full of litter and knackered boats, rain, and bored looking people (l liked it!) - followed by a coffee and a full English, and a plan had been formulated!

I'd been wanting to pay a visit to the British museum for some time, especially having enjoyed my morning in the Louvre in June. So I got myself down there and low and behold they had a rather fantastic exhibition on about the Aztecs which focused on their final 20 years prior to the arrival of the Spanish. Here's a fact - we shouldn't call them Aztecs, we should call them the Mexica (pronounced Me - shee - ca). And their final ruler, Moctezuma II, who has enjoyed a rather mixed reputation as the man who capitulated to the Spanish, was the focus of the exhibition and at one stage apparently had 150 Mexica women pregnant! Great scott, I thought!!

Blood thirsty lot, these Mexica, and no exhibition surrounding them is complete without mentioning human sacrifice, which played an important role in their culture. Cutting out a few thousand human hearts seemed to be the answer to everything in those days. Ah religion - both the cause and the solution to all humanities problems...

Anyway, I managed about two hours in the British museum and it was splendid, and I'll be making a return visit I'm sure. Its just full of countless, priceless treasure, it really is. I urge you to go.

Midday, and due to the early start it already felt like evening, and I made my way over to Camden. What a load of old crap, really it is. Its like a theme park, all gloss and no quality. The market is worth a look round, but would you actually buy anything from there? There's lots of shops, but again, not much worth actually buying. I guess its good for venues. The Proud Gallery is a great space, I hope we get to play there. The tourists seem to like it, though.

I got myself out of there pretty quickly, in case I got sucked in never to be free again, and made my way down to the Tate Modern. I love the Tate Modern, especially the Turbine Hall stuff - for those of you that don't know, that's the big empty space in the middle of the building, where they generally have some sort of installation. On this occassion, its Miroslaw Balka's "How It Is".

Its a giant grey steel structure holding a vast dark chamber, which in its construction reflects the surrounding architecture of Tate Modern - almost as if the interior space of the Turbine Hall has been turned inside out. Hovering somewhere between sculpture and architecture, it sits on two-metre stilts and stands thirteen metres high and thirty metres long. Visitors can walk underneath it, listening to the echoing sound of footsteps on steel above, or enter via a ramp into its pitch-black interior.

So I did!

And it was dark. Very dark.

Apart from all the tourists taking pictures of...what exactly..? The dark?? The wall? Who knows! But there were a lot of flashes. That was annoying.

I must admit it was rather marvellous actually, and worth a visit. You need to see it. Its hard to describe the power of the piece in words. I guess its the excitement of being in a very big, very dark place with lots of strangers, bit like the inside of a gay club. The fear of walking into somebody. The fear of the dark. The fear of the unknown.

We are not supposed to be in places where there is no light - human beings like light. I mean, the Mexica liked light so much that they made the sun a God and cut out human hearts to make sure it stayed in the sky!

And after all that, I still had the evening. Well, when it gets past 4pm and you've been up since 4am, I can't handle anymore culture so its time to drink booze - and where better than Soho! I found a rather marvellous bar called Ku Bar and parked myself on a stool for two hours and enjoyed watching the world go by. Well, what a honey pot of talent! Its amazing how engrossing bar work can be when its carried out by rather amazing, good looking people. I felt like I needed a cold shower when it was time to go. I certainly needed to sober up! The trip back to Euston was a stagger rather than a walk.

Fortunately, I'd brought a travel pillow and slept all the way home.

What a nice day... and that's it really. Stories and rumours that might have been circulated by a certain irish dog groomer have been wildly exaggerated.

... next up, the full report from this year's IN THE CITY...

Ben

Mucky Turpitude

Wednesday 7 October 2009

I like this quote from page 156 of Alex James' autobiography - and although I don't want to make a habit of using other peoples material on this blog, on this occassion, sod it - and BLUR are great anyway so there you go! And I like their artwork.

"I thought as a rock star I owed it to people to enjoy myself to the absolute limit. It was a missed opportunity for everybody if I didn't. Turpitude, extreme immorality, is the privilege of the rock star. No one else would get away with it. Even film stars and footballers have to conduct themselves with some degree of common decency. They're all answerable to somebody. Making music is a self-indulgent business and success is just more wood for the bonfire. Absolutely every proper rock star in history has gone through a phase of self-indulgence of proportions inconceivable to the rest of the population. That's kind of what a rock star is. It would be dull to just turn up and play some songs and leave. It's not what everybody wants. There's nothing profoundly evil about what goes on backstage. It's just mucky."

I liked that. I thought it summed it all up nicely.

See you at In The City, folks - for some mucky turpitude.

Poetry Corner

Saturday 3 October 2009

Came up with this yesterday - possibly lyrics to a new song, although somehow I'd have to reconcile the ABBA structure (no I'm not talking about the popular Swedish pop combo here, philistines!)

In the meantime, I think it stands up as quite a good poem, inspired by those dark nights in the winters of the late 90's when I first moved to Manchester and lived in Victoria Park, amid the bangs and crashes of what was either Eid celebrations or violent gun crime... you could never quite tell!

"Hearts and Minds"

Storm crow black signals the end of the day.

As the clouds roll in, I sit and gaze.

Is that the sound of distant guns I can hear, or just fireworks?

Some celebration, maybe, where shock and awe win over hearts and minds,

With treats and false sentiment.

 

I can't tell the difference anymore.

Is the country at war?

Bangs and crashes set the dogs off, to the delight of the enemy.

Now they know where you live!

 

Barking mad, leaping to gain a foothold against fencing.

Sound echos across the park, desperate to be heard.

So I sink lower into my seat, gasping for silence.

Turn my head away, "out of sight, out of mind", they say.

 

Concentration slips and I'm back on the front line,

accepting love and joy and peace and fear

from people with a different agenda.

So with alarming regularity I sit and listen in the gathering darkness.

I can identify them without seeing.

New website

Monday 21 September 2009

www.thismorningcall.com