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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:
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.
There was no time to pause yesterday. I was regurgitated straight out of my day time chores and had to run to get to the theatre on time. It was pissy wet and, fearing exclusion, I had to present myself on time or I wouldn't be allowed in!
Nevertheless, slightly damp and very tired from getting up so early, I made it. I literally didn't know anything about the show I was about to watch, but I've managed to find a brief description this morning that sums it up:
"Known for having the best arms in the business, the sultry and sinuous Maria Pages returns to London with an intimate show 'Autorretrato' ('Self-Portrait'). After previous shows that celebrated her home town Seville, surrealism and the art of Goya, Pages turns her creative energies in on herself."
So, to recap, I'm watching Maria Pages dancing Flamenco as part of the London Flamenco Festival in a brand new show. I'd just about got this worked out as the lights went down and the show started.
Flamenco is full of drama and huge dynamic contrast - it can move from the quietest moment of intimacy, to the loudest spike in volume and movement in a heartbeat. Lots of straight backs and dramatic facial expressions. The men wear sharp suits and the women long dresses which they swish around with precision. Maria Pages managed to avoid any sense of hightened melodrama through a technical proficiency that resulted in a near-standing ovation at its conclusion. A sell out success then, and artistically worthy too.
The evening ended on a rather hilarious note as I have never seen so many alternative curtain calls - they must have acknowledged the audience about ten times before they finally left the stage. I mean it was good, but come on now. Maria even managed to squeeze one more swish and twizzle with the scarf (pictured) before her taxi arrived.
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.
