Destiny's Child (Cyril Hahne Remix)

The Next Stop is.. Shepherd's Pie!?

The daily commute can often make every weekday Groundhog Day. The same train, same carriage, same seat, same page of the Metro, same route into work. So how much do we actually notice on our travels?


The idea of slowing down and taking more time to notice the little things has cropped up a lot in London recently. First came the rogue stickers on the London Underground, using the same designs and fonts as the everyday warnings and notices used by TFL. But instead of the usual 'Mind the closing doors' warning, commuters were instructed 'Don't acknowledge fellow passengers or sustain eye contact beyond 2 seconds. Please respect urban solitude', 'Shepherd's Bush' was changed to 'Shepherd's Pie' and one sticker directed Londoners to 'Platform 9 3/4'.

Then came a campaign called 'Look for Longer' from marketing company CBS Outdoor, using posters on the tube and a '#lookforlonger' trend on Twitter to encourage Londoners to look more closely at a poster to find the 75 Tube and DLR stations illustrated. (If you want to play the online game, go to their website. I wasted three hours of my evening on this yesterday instead of job-hunting or going to the pub, so if you're planning on doing anything productive or sociable, consider this your warning.)

And then yesterday, A sneaky blogger called Patrick has been dumping 'shit' all over town. His blog, Shit London, documents hilarious edits to London's many adverts and slogans, and yesterday he spread the joy by leaving packages across the city for his followers to scoop up and admire. (To clarify, 'Shit' in this context means 'stuff' or 'things' as in, 'that was some good shit', rather than 'shit blog', which it definitely isn't.) The site provides a platform to share often overlooked comic details to everyday London life.

So on Monday morning, when you're about to settle into your journey with the Metro or your latest ebook on your Kindle, take a moment to look at your surroundings because they may not be what they seem at first glance, and what you could find may give you your first smile of the day! :)

You can follow Shit London and Look for Longer on Twitter! @shitlondon @lookforlonger

Make Some Change and Give It Away

All across the world, thousands of people are taking part in a movement that acts as an innovative way of sharing wealth amongst society.

Today is 'Free Money Day', a day in which strangers give away two coins or notes with the understanding that the receiver pass on half of what they've been given, encouraging us to look at our relationship with money in a different way. As someone who works in a pub for minimum wage, I've found my finances are quickly becoming a regular headache of mine (particularly after a night out with tequila, wine and rum). This day has come at a good time for me. 

So do we actually need money to be happy? On September 15th, the Lehman Brothers, one of the largest investment banks in the world, filed for bankruptcy in 2008, which fuelled the fire for this idea. Of course, it goes without saying that a certain amount would make life easier - enough to cover bills, rent, food and the regular trips to the pub - but beyond a certain point, does excess money make our lives that much happier? Do we obsess over money when we don't have it, or does having a lot of it make us obsess over it even more?

I have always said that if I ever won the lottery I'd give away 90% of my winnings - not because I'm 'noble' or can 'live simply' or any other bullshit egotistical reason that comes to mind - but simply because I wouldn't know what to do with it all. How are you supposed to spend £92million in one lifetime without becoming weird and unrealistic? I'd probably want to make a good impact on things that are important to me (like sloths, I love sloths, and I'd like to buy a pub one day), pay off my friends and family's debt, buy a house, do all the sensible things one's supposed to do. Then I'd do the silly stuff, like throwing lavish parties on a big boat with Greg Wilson and Earth, Wind and Fire as the headline acts and have lashings of champagne and smoked salmon. 

Anyway, Free Money Day is an opportunity for us to spread some joy and be positive in an environment where we are told 'life is tough, making money is hard, working for free is acceptable'. There is no amount too small or big - the gesture is supposed to act as a catalyst for conversation, rather than providing a life-changing sum of money. 

So if you are approached by a stranger offering you money today, don't be a typical cynical Londoner (as seen during 'Wearelucky's attempt to spread some joy), accept the generous gesture, pass on the wealth yourself, and spread some financial joy.

Follow @freemoneyday on Twitter! Or check out their website for more information.

Rainbow Brown - Till You Surrender

Nicholas Jaar

An outrageously cool song. 

My Weekend of Curious Incidences

My bank holiday weekend has been one of both amazing and curious incidences.

Not only did biblical amounts of rain and hailstones rear its ugly head the moment I committed to flyering my neighbourhood for my pub, but a man on a bike taking his grey parrot for a wander along the river provided a strange sight to behold on my leisurely Sunday afternoon.

Casual Sunday afternoon taking the family parrot out for a stroll

Notting Hill Carnival also had its fair share of funny people and colourful sights. Now in its 48th year, Europe's biggest street party failed to disappoint yet again. Norman Jay and David Rodigan were just two of the many DJs to provide entertainment for the masses of red stripe drinking, jerk chicken eating party people. I bumped into many familiar faces this year, and ended up at the 'Gladdy Wax' Soundsystem on Portobello Road, where a man with wild curly hair and a strange t-shirt with eyes printed all over it was violently sketching a scene. (Upon closer inspection, what he had actually achieved was a large black smudge across the page..) The music was loud, the costumes were impressive as always, and the rain managed to hold off despite a few pathetic attempts to ruin the fun.

But the most curious incident of all was the decision to embrace some London culture and take my visiting Aussie pal to see the play adaptation of Mark Haddon's 'Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Nighttime'. Performed at the National Theatre on the South Bank, the book has always been a favourite of mine and one that has stuck in my mind ever since the first read. The story is told through the eyes of a fifteen year old boy with Aspergers syndrome, who discovers his neighbour's dog has been murdered. He decides to start his own investigation into the crime, which leads him to discover more than he first anticipated.

I was interested to see how this could be translated onto the stage, and was left with quite a heart-warming sensation. Framed by a white border, the clever use of space was the best I have seen for a long time, where the lead character uses the floor to demonstrate how he feels, what he's learnt and how to navigate through life. The play sticks rigidly to the original novel, and gives the audience an intimate insight into the way his mind works and the affect autism can have on family and friends.

Although completely sold out, you still have a chance to see this fantastic piece of theatre. We queued up at 5.30pm on the day, and got standing tickets for a fiver in time to get a drink and a bite to eat before the performance. Well worth the hassle, I recommend it highly. If you've read the book, GO. If you haven't read the book, definitely go.

Only in London can you find yourself watching a pet parrot making friends with some bikers, going to a great play for a fiver, and marinating yourself with lots of red stripe and reggae, all in the space of one weekend. I love you London. You're my fave.

Paul Simon and Todd Terje

I haven't posted any songs in a while because I'm trying to be a grown up, but I couldn't resist posting this one. A great song for the sunny weather!

How Not to Grow Up

My life is in disarray.

The Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury '11

After a weekend of reggae, sunshine and fresh air in a place where music was loud as were the clothes and hairstyles, real life has made my festival blues the worst I've had for a long time.

No longer can I wander round a field aimlessly looking for an enticing doorway or the particular artist/band that I want to see. No longer will my biggest problem be how to tackle the toilets in the most effective way without having to inhale the toxic fumes from below. NO LONGER will I be able to return to the hard life of student living, where rules and mature behaviour are discouraged and one can allow themselves to be useless for a few days before the reality of one's bank balance becomes a very immediate problem.

I went into this festival with the attitude that this may well be the final time I spend a weekend getting muddy and messy in a field with other like-minded people - I will have to make the most of it before I grow up, get a real job, pay off my debts and become a worthy citizen of the world. Instead, I've become more determined than ever to avoid the office rut and preserve my naivety and youth.

Before going to Boomtown, I spent 2 weeks working for a magazine in Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. I went out there with the attitude of staying for a significant amount of time to get some great experience and be able to edit a magazine and get my name in print. Instead, I found myself faced with the biggest culture shock of my life.

The largest chandelier in the world -
53 tonnes,  15,000 lamps, and 18 stories high.

I hated the city, I hated the people, I hated the mentality of the town. The city itself had a strange falseness to it - all the old soviet blocks had a façade on the front to make it look Roman or European and sophisticated, but the back of the building was still the same old tower block it was before - a perfect metaphor for the place. The Azeris have adopted a vulgar spending culture - one which isn't about buying the best product, but spending the most amount of money and brandishing expensive goods to better themselves against others. Every business meeting and office discussion was laced with hours of back story that made every-day British politics look like a doddle. Most of the people there had an agenda - to make a quick buck and not worry about the consequences (also beautifully illustrated by the disused oil rigs littering the Caspian Sea - the destruction of a coastline where money-making opportunities are to be had no matter what the natural cost). A lot of the ex-pats I met had a 'Baku wife' to wile away their lonely hours when they weren't spending their time making money in a place where corruption is rife - if one is to be successful in Baku, one must know how to play the game.

It was certainly no place for an idealist. I quickly came to the conclusion that Baku was not for me. I needed to get out of there sharpish - I was (and am) too young to sacrifice my morals just yet. I'm only just beginning my adult life (stubbornly, but it is slowly taking shape). As naive as this seems, the world needs idealists, and I intend to be one of them.

Now, in the aftermath of what was quite possibly the worst two weeks of my life followed by the best weekend of my life, I am faced with the insurmountable task of paying my student debts off, finding a place to live, getting a proper job AND chasing the writing dream.

I'm not sure how I intend to achieve all these things, but one thing is for sure - I'm not ready to leave the muddy fields and smelly toilets behind just yet. Maybe next year...

Beatles in the Leafy Suburbs

So I've started working in my local across the road (hence the lack of posts. Yet again, very sorry) and it's made me aware of a lot of local history and interest.

Seeing as it was Paul McCartney's 70th birthday yesterday, I thought I'd take this opportunity to discuss my ties to the fab four, even if they are pretty thin.

I live around the corner from Twickenham Studios, where two of the Beatles films were made - Help! and A Hard Day's Night - and every once in a while there'll be loads of Chinese tourists with guide books and big cameras outside my house taking photos of my road. Not once did I stop and think 'there's a group of tourists outside my house.. that's a little strange' until one day Mr Rider came in after witnessing the same phenomenon and brought it to my attention.

After some light googling, we came across this photo.

This is John and Ringo, stood on my street, outside my house when they came to sleepy St Margarets in 1964 whilst filming Help!. Both the postbox and green hedge have gone, and the road is now full of cars, but it still manages to attract hardcore fans from far and wide.

So far and wide in fact, that a tour group of fifteen Americans came to the pub to take photos, watch A Hard Day's Night and eat some food. They knew where their heroes had been stood, and even took photos of my manager serving a pint in the exact same spot where Ringo was served nearly fifty years ago. Each of them had paid two and a half grand for a week of Beatles memorabilia and mania, touring the country and visiting all the major places in Beatles history.

Ringo Starr at the bar in The Turks Head

There is certainly money to be made from exploiting the loyalty of such die-hard fans. Last week it was announced by various music moguls that they are to organise international tours of the holograms of Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix. The stars of the show can be packed up and put into the back of the trucj alongside the lighting rigs and sound equipment, with organisers even stating that their main attraction will be better behaved than their original real-life counter-parts. Attendees will be able to watch their idols on-stge, a revival of the good old days for some, and an opportunity to witness a piece of musical history to fans too young to have seen them in real life.

I like the idea that the Beatles have walked down my road and been into the pub I work in, it's a great feeling to know a band I love so much have some (very weak) connections to my life. But I'm not sure I'd pay a substantial amount of money to follow in their footsteps to an obscure corner of London to take a few photos of barmaids and trees. And why would you want to pay an extortionate amount of money to watch what is essentially a 3D video of a legend? (We're going into old territory here now, I've mentioned this before, I'm saying no more about the subject.)

Anyway, if you fancy checking out the Beatles films made in Twickenham, the full movie 'Help!' is currently on Youtube, and for more information on the Jim and Jimi holograms, here's an article from the Rolling Stone.

RIP Donna Summer

Prince Fatty

John Peel in Space

On 1st May, The Space went live to its public.

Made up of video clips, live events and interactive collections, the website offers its visitors the opportunity to explore different aspects of the arts from the comfort of your own home (an iPlayer for culture, a sort of 'on demand' service without the incessant repeats of Top Gear).

One particularly impressive part of the project is John Peel's interactive record collection. Anyone who stumbles across this gem is able to go through the DJ's thousands of LPs, singles and CDs, a virtual space that rivals the detail of visiting a similar archive in person. 

The Peel section also displays photographs, old radio shows, sessions and video clips of the man himself. With so much at your fingertips, extensively and informatively put together, this step into virtual museums and galleries allows a similar experience to that of visiting such places in person.

The Space makes the arts available to anyone and everyone, at any time of day, tapping into the online generation and the demand for instant knowledge and gratification. The website is live from May till October, and is definitely worth a look. 

http://thespace.org/

Wearelucky.

When a stranger approaches you on a London street to hand you a thousand pounds in cash for picking up someone else's litter, what would you do?

Last week, a wealthy man did exactly that. His project, called Wearelucky., involves the mystery millionaire himself travelling across the globe, handing out a grand in cash to complete strangers - those he sees doing good deeds, or just because they look interesting. The only catch is to do 'good' with the money.

But when he brought this idea to London, giving away the money seemed more difficult than he first anticipated, where many people were rejecting his money in a distrusting fashion.

Maybe it's due to the fact that London is one of the most densely populated cities in the world (A statistic on an underground poster today stated that there is nearly five thousand people per square kilometre) that Londoners are so sceptical. The many people on the daily commute asking for their hard earned cash, teamed with horror stories of various pickpocketing and street scams, would make even the most gullible think twice about accepting a wad of cash from a complete stranger.

Living in a populated city like London certainly makes you more streetwise and aware of your surroundings, but despite the masses of people we may walk past or sit opposite on the tube every day, if you decide to strike up a conversation with a fellow commuter, you're greeted with a combination of suspicion and mild terror.

Last week, after a lengthy discussion with a friend about such experiences (and the idea of a man approaching strangers with a grand in hand just for good karma), I decided to strike up a conversation with another woman on the train home. A conversation that lasted all of two minutes,  I felt I'd done something nice and personal in what can often be an impersonal town. I never expected this temporary friendship to go any further than the exit of the station, but I was expecting some good karma.

But then things became a little weird. We went our separate ways, only for the woman to chase me down the road to ask for my name so she could add me on Facebook. Her reasoning? She liked my tights. I gave her my name to not appear rude in true English style, went home and immediately changed my privacy settings. Then it hit me - I was just as cynical as those who would not accept the cash from our mystery millionaire, and was swiftly reminded why  people do not make friends on public transport, and how despite the millions of people who live in and around London, it can still be the loneliest place on the planet to some.

'Money Can't Buy Life'

Tomorrow, a film documenting the life of musical legend Bob Marley is released in UK cinemas.

Produced by his son Ziggy Marley, the film uses archival footage and interviews of the man himself and those who were close to him to put together a respectful and fitting homage to the biggest reggae star of all time.

Atleast, that's what many of the rave reviews have said, and is also what I hope. Bob was certainly no angel (it's acknowledged that he has love children dotted around the globe and is rumoured to have countless more, despite his marriage to backing singer Rita Marley), but his laid back attitude and songs about the struggle of black oppression made him an influential musician, creating timeless songs and thought-provoking statements.

With this in mind, there is certainly one thing I will be expecting - an incredible soundtrack. His music speaks for the time he was living in, with hits like Trenchtown Rock, So Much Trouble In The World and, arguably his most famous, Three Little Birds, many of them have become anthems to all ages, speaking of the need for revolution and a faith in the natural order of the world.

The poster boy for Rastafarianism, his religion played a massive part in his life, and also his death. Marley was diagnosed with cancer in 1977 underneath his toe nail, dismissing advice from doctors to have it amputated because of his religious beliefs. He spent the remainder of his life touring the world, playing his music, until his death in May 1981. He was 36.

Here's the trailer for the film, which is on limited release in cinemas tomorrow.

Jah Bless.

Charles Bradley

Jessie Ware

Coach-hella crazy!

Yes yes, here's the usual opening line of how I haven't written on here for so long (you all know the score. too busy doing 'stuff' blah blah) and for that I must apologise. I'm sorry. Forgive me.

Anyway, this evening, I have decided to jump on the Coachella bandwagon. For those of you not in the know, check out this completely accurate and not at all staged article here.

Most are posting and watching the video of a Tupac hologram. Now, call me old fashioned, but surely the point of going to a festival is to see live music or dj sets? With real people? I know a lot of you will be reading this and thinking 'whaaaaat, dat shit is sick yo!' and yeah, it's great, he's dead but he's still performing on stage to a crowd? madness. But I'm not sure that this isn't just transparent money-making (in more ways than one), allowing music moguls to feed off his name through some clever graphics and pre-recorded songs.

It's a weird tainting of the music business. Technology seeps into the way in which music is edited and shared with the masses. It's brought us auto-tuning, Justin 'baby-faced girl from Youtube' Bieber (who's followers call themselves Beliebers?! Locate your puke points now) and, when auto-tuning and Youtube are combined, something beautiful..like this  I'm sure many will remember this delightful gem.

Obviously, it has it's benefits. With people able to share their music in just a couple of clicks, it's never been easier to access whatever music you want, whilst Twitter enables us all to follow our musical idols and find the latest tracks and songs by our favourite artists. But it also means that the deluded masses are able to share their talents too. I'm not really sure if I'm ever going to get to Friday again without 'Friday! Friday! Gotta get down on Friday!' popping into my head like an annoying pre-weekend chant.

So, as someone who does not get along with technology (I haven't had a properly working phone since my mobile phone career began way back in the early years of secondary school, and laptop history has hardly been simple either), I'm not looking for holograms to entertain me at festivals. If I wanted an image rather than the real thing, I'd watch a video on Youtube.

Born Ruffians

Give The People What They Want

Etta James

LaFarging it Up in London

What a beautiful sunny week so far eh? Perfect weather for an afternoon of drinking in the sun by the river, followed by some American roots fun in the beautiful settings of Bush Hall. 

On Monday night, myself and a few friends went to see Pokey Lafarge and the South City Three, made up of Joe Glynn on bass, Adam Hoskins on guitar, and Ryan Koenig on the harmonica and other household appliances. 

The whiskey was in full flow and the hall was packed with an eclectic crowd, ranging from middle-aged men and women who'd seen them on Jools Holland's Hootenanny last year, deep-south Americans and us, the twenty-somethings. When the band began their set, the crowd were frustratingly stagnant - but when they started playing their better known songs, like Drinkin' Whiskey Tonight (as seen on the Jools Holland clip) and La La Blues, they came to life. A fight broke out (at a country/blues/swing gig? very confusing) and the perpetrator was escorted out of the building. Rock and roll. 

Pokey calmed everyone down with a cheeky solo of Josephine (a video from the night in question) and after some heavy cheering from the crowd, the guys came back for an encore. 

As for the South City Three, what a bunch of dudes. The guitarist, Adam, knocked out some great solos,  and the bassist, Joe, rocks some rather impressive sideburns and this 'strong, silent type' demeanour. But it was Ryan, the guy on the Harmonica, who stole the show. Not only did he make me want to buy a harmonica the next day and move to the deep south, but it was his skills with a washboard that blew me away. He too was rocking some great sideburns, and a cowboy hat and waistcoat. (He reminded me of someone, and it wasn't until I watched Anchorman tonight on BBC3 that I remembered who it was..Champ Kind. I think it was the hat.)

After the gig, instead of chilling out backstage, the band wandered into the front foyer to greet their fans, sign some posters and have a few photos taken. They were happy to chat to anyone, and when we bumped into them in a bar up the road, Pokey said hello again, remembering our names and seeming genuinely pleased to be chatting to us. It was refreshing to see a band so pleased to interact with their fans without a publicist forcing them into it.

Pokey, Myself, my pal Charlie, and Adam.

All in all, what a fun and charming Monday night. They're playing there again on Thursday, so if you happen to be in West London, I would highly recommend wandering down to try and bag yourself a night of Whiskey-induced swing. 

Marvin Gaye

Vote Tempa T!

Tempz for London Mayor!

New Look

Still Bill

This week, there's been a documentary on BBC Iplayer about a singer-songwriter that was always played in my house as I was growing up. Bill Withers wrote simple, soulful songs with incredible lyrics and emotion that isn't easy to find in music today.

Below are just some of my personal favourites.

I'm Her Daddy

Grandma's Hands

I Wish You Well

You Just Can't Smile it Away

Lean On Me

Submotion Orchestra

Bestimix

So many great old songs in this mix, I think everybody should listen to it!

Bestimix 54: Greg's Greats (The Shellac Collective) by Bestimix on Mixcloud

Casino Times Remix

Hungry Frog..

The Return of The Apprentice

Lord Sugartits is back. On 21st March, The Apprentice is hitting our television screens once again. If you share the same sentiment as my Dad and think this entire show is just a clever way for good old trusty Alan to raise his profile and make more money...you would be right.

Despite this, I for one have been a fan of it since the very beginning, when the applicants all actually wanted to work for Sir Alan and had a genuine passion for business. Remember the original apprentice winner, Tim? The nice guy who smashed all the really intense questioning and scrutiny in the final interviews and beat that horrendously annoying Saira? (She went on to present a kids' programme called 'The Boss' which was shit and not helped by the fact she was a terrible Kids TV personality.)  He was the first and last winner I thought was deserving of the job. From then on, each series had your token wanker, tough-childhood-self-made success, public school boy, wannabe television personality and then the arrogant, delusional one. (Step forward Stuart Baggs - The Brand. 'I'm not a one trick pony, I'm not a ten trick pony, I've got a WHOLE FIELD OF PONIES.' Idiot.)

Throughout the years, there's been many candidates of note, like Katie Hopkins, the boardroom bitch of the third series, most notably remembered for her eclipse-inducing nose, who then went on to star in a scandalous spread in the tabloids after being photographed having sex in a country field. Sounds like the perfect candidate for sweet Sugar's company.

And before that, there was my personal favourite, Ruth Badger, or 'The Badger' to her fans. An excellent saleswoman who held her own in the boardroom, she was beaten by the good old 'I've had a shit life and look where I am now' routine from Michelle Dewberry (who, subsequently, left her job at Amstrad after only a few months.. Poor choice there Alan).

But the best bit about the Apprentice nowadays is not the brutal actions of those in a high-stress and highly-critical environment, but the half hour show on BBC2, hosted now by the amazing Dara O'Briain, which tears apart these egotistical assholes in front of a studio audience and a panel of 'experts'. Incredible. There's nothing like a bit of poetic justice. Now, not only is their cruel and cringe-worthy behaviour inflicted on the viewing public, but it is forced upon the perpetrator, who then is put in the awkward position of justifying why you 'never say never in the biscuit world'... Now that takes the... ahem, moving on.

Next Wednesday is the night where it starts all over again. I cannot bloody wait.

Pure Talent..

Since I First Met You

Alabama Shakes #2

Phony Kony?

Wow. I don't know about you, but this morning I woke up with a savage Kony hangover. My head is spinning, and I'm wondering what the hell happened yesterday.

What started out as a well-made and cleverly put together short film about hunting down a Ugandan dictator spiralled into chaos and controversy as the charity behind it, Invisible Children, had its motives called into question almost immediately.

Doubters were posting links all over Facebook, one blog in particular featuring EVERYWHERE. Even if you weren't interested in Konygate, it was forced upon you like some lecherous old man. The person behind this blog has appeared to pretty much do a U-Turn as well after IC posted this response to the critiques. (I would just like to point out that it seems a little futile to respond to a video with statistics from a website. Both have their motives, and those stats can just as easily be manipulated as the information in the original video.)

It was like one kid trying to convince the playground to buy their painted rocks for charity and the other accusing him of spending the money on sweets while the rest just want to get on with their game of stuck in the mud and marco polo. I do think the idea behind the video is special though. The fact they are using social networking to promote their cause is very clever. People said that a charity who uses Facebook to gain momentum should never be trusted, but look at what they've managed to achieve in the space of 24 hours. Their video states they want to raise awareness and get people talking about Kony and that is exactly what has happened. I think it's quite refreshing to see the online community so alive with something that is more worthwhile than discussing the next time we're all gonna get CRUNK YO.

So, as much as I think there is much to criticise about Invisible Children, I'm actually still edging towards the support side of the argument, but I'm not sure if it's myself willing and wishing them to be admirable charity workers, or whether the motive of wading into Uganda and catching the bad guy is appealing to my idealistic side. Either way, I'm all Kony'ed out. I'm never Konying again. Now, where's the paracetamol...

Young Hearts Run Free

KONY 2012

What a noble use of the power of the internet today. Please watch this video and pledge your support.

KONY 2012 from INVISIBLE CHILDREN on Vimeo.

Stevie

Latitude with Attitude

So folks, the Latitude line-up has been released, alongside tickets going on sale, and I must say it looks damn tasty. Not only am I excited by the headliners - Bon Iver and Paul 'the Modfather' Weller - but there's loads of other acts that are making me salivate.

Plenty of bands, like Alabama Shakes (previously featured on Subtle Tea), Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros and Buena Vista Social Club are making appearances, along with SBTRKT, Simple Minds, Michael Kiwanuka and Daryl Hall of that dynamic duo Hall and Oates. Even sexy Coxy's out of this world band, The Infinite Monkey Cage, will be treating festival-goers to some 'hard rock' interrupted by mini lectures about how much energy the sun emits using ridiculous apparatus. Who said Physics wasn't cool.

There are also some bloody excellent comedians doing their bit to contribute to the good old English festival experience. Tim Minchin, Reggie D Hunter, Jack Dee and Rich Hall are just a few fighting their corner in The Comedy Arena, and there's even a slot for that tall teacher from the Inbetweeners, Greg Davies (recently seen sporting an ill-fitted shirt on the BBC's Live At The Apollo). Rich Hall is also having a 'hoedown' in the Cabaret Arena, guaranteed to be a larf and a harf.

And yet, there's more. For those literary souls, There's Poetry and Literary Arenas, featuring guests such as Iain Banks (The Wasp Factory, The Crow Road), Benjamin Zephaniah (Refugee Boy), Mark Haddon (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time) and even an appearance from superstar teacher/rapper/spoken poet Mark Grist, who you may remember tearing apart a 17 year old student in this rather fetching video.

You can check out the full line up here.

In other news, a huge fox was shot by a farmer in Aberdeenshire last night. Take a look at this. WHAT THE FOX.

Truth

Shimmy Shimmy Ya

RIP Davy Jones

Tingalingaling

Bust A Move!

Paws for Thought..

Today is International Polar Bear Day. Was anyone aware of this? Anyone at all? I love it when days like this happen, when you have International Tea Appreciation Day or International Hug a Ukrainian Day or International Speak Like A Pirate Day. I hug my only Ukrainian friend every time I see her (thanks to this marvellous day) and I regularly count my blessings that I have such a tasty hot beverage to enjoy on a daily basis. So thank you, whoever you aaarrrrr out there who makes these strange holidays. You really enrich my life.

Anyway, I am taking this bloody excellent opportunity to talk about this animal, not only because it seems fitting to talk about it today (because its International Polar Bear Day, did I mention that?) but also because David Attenborough's Frozen Planet series made me a little obsessive. Imagine Dave reading these following facts to you and I've basically got nothing to do to keep your interest.. so do it. (Some of these will also be great to bring up at the pub and make you look really cool and educated. I'd look at it as an investment into your pub chat.)

1. They look white, but those badass mudda's are BLACK. They're skin is black so they can absorb any heat that radiates from the sun, and their outer fur is transparent and reflect light just like snow and ice does, making them all look white.
2. They can sniff out seals and other meaty meals from over a mile away, and spend the majority of their lives living on the edge of the sea ice so they have much more opportunity to seal the deal on dinner.. 
3. Apparently, their success at hunting for food shows that they are just as intelligent as apes, and have been witnessed stacking plastic piping in a heap as part of a game.
4. The posture of a polar bear and it's resemblance to a human when skinned is said to have contributed to the Inuit folklore that bears are really just humans that dress as polar bears when they leave they're homes.. I'll let you make your own decision on this one.
5. The most famous polar bear (in my view) is that one called Noah from 'Noah's Island', the kid's TV programme about a bunch of animals on a floating island. (Sacha was always my favourite though.. used to love this programme. The opening title gives me goosebumps. Top telly!) There was also Knut, that baby polar bear in Berlin Zoo that died last year.. What a Knutter.

For a charming set of photographs from the Guardian, click here, and for further information and cute pictures these fantastic brutes, go to the Polar Bears International website.

Alabama Shakes

My Baby's Got Sauce

Ohh Glastonbury..

Coldplay - Fix You

New Damian Marley

My Best Sunday at Sunday Best

This evening, I am considering breaking my own vow to write a banal post about my life. I'm not sure whether it's because the weekend just gone was one that tickled my fancy, or that I don't find myself particularly inspired by the death of a crack-addicted warbler and the gushing tributes/drug-hating hype that follows. To be brutally honest, I've been waiting for an opportunity to brag about my new career as a superstar DJ. Ahh fuck it. But first, let me take you back to Thursday and a night at Alexandra Palace.

For those who are unaware (I doubt there will be many of you) The Black Keys are a rock duo from Ohio, and spent their Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings playing to sold out crowds at the Ally Pally. I'm a relatively recent fan, only discovering them after their 'Brothers' album in 2010 and their latest 'El Camino' album, which was released last year. (Clearly I still have far to go, considering Wikipedia had to tell me they have SEVEN ALBUMS. Oops.) After a cheeky pint in The Famous Cock in Islington (wipe that smirk off your face) we made our way through a snowy North London to the venue. Song after song, banger after banger, they did not disappoint, and the oversized disco ball during their encore was a much appreciated addition.

And then the snow hit with a vengeance. Outside was covered and the heavens were still going. No trains running, and buses being abandoned, it took us THREE HOURS to get home. Definitely worth it though.

Friday was uneventful, Saturday was spent in the pub with pals watching the rugby, and then it was Sunday. I'd received an email on Thursday night from an organisation called Stick It On - I had won a fifteen minute DJ slot at an event run by Rob da Bank's label 'Sunday Best'. The idea behind the 'Stick It On' service is to allow people with no DJ experience to have a shot at it for fifteen minutes of fame. I'd forgotten that I had applied and this email sent me into a hyper frenzy. Not only was it in bloody cool Camden, but it was in the bloody cool Lock Tavern, a bloody cool pub. Then I found out people like Rob da Bank and Dan Le Sac were playing. All too bloody cool for me.

Needless to say, I was panicking. After a quick chat with a couple of friends, there was no turning back. I had to do it. I wanted to do it! So I did it. And it was great fun. The pub was packed and I was the final 'Stick It On' DJ before Dan Le Sac took to the decks (I can say things like that now I'm a bloody cool superstar DJ).

We stuck around for a bit after, and caught a few songs by these loveable lads.

Then it was home by 9, bed by 11, and the library the next day. I'm so rock and roll it hurts.

Shy Fx

Happy Birthday Bob

Black Magic Woman (Live)

Neva Soft

On top of the World?

It turns out, it's a little chilly in Chile. Scientists have sacrificed the warmth and oxygen of life at normal altitude for stargazing at 2,500 metres above sea level. Chapped lips, breathlessness and nausea have become a part of their fortnightly trips up Mount Paranal in northern Chile to work at the European Southern Observatory. Jonathan Smoker (professional stargazer, stupidly cool name) has personally experienced the extremes of a dry environment:

'You really feel it when you've been here a long time... Sometimes my hands start to bleed because it's so dry here.'

It turns out, work can actually make you sick. All in the name of human discovery eh? The lightweight atmosphere provides astronomers with the perfect setting for looking into space. And now they're taking us even closer to the action, building the Atacama Large Millimetre/Submillimetre Array (Alma) telescope 5,000 metres above sea level, near the Bolivian border in the Andes mountain range. This incredible technology will allow these space invaders to see into half of the universe that was previously hidden by space dust (the solar variety, not the popping candy). Scary. 

Seeing as I'm a lowly enthusiast, I'll leave it to a professional, John Richer, University of Cambridge lecturer and a project scientist for Alma, to explain:

"When a star forms, it forms in cold, dusty gas clouds. The moment it's formed it's shrouded in this dusty material, out of which only half of the light from a typical star escapes. Many other stars are formed in very dense clouds and their light is completely absorbed by the dust in these clouds."

The Alma telescope will be able to detect the radiation emitted by this dust when it is heated by nearby stars, therefore revealing previously unseen galaxies. When fully functional (completion is set for 2013), it is expected to unveil a new galaxy every three minutes, yet another show of the eternal human quest for knowledge and very impressive technological development. 

For a much more intelligent write up on the Guardian website of this mind-blowing adventure, click here. 

In the mean time, watch the space.. literally.

I wish to be a subject, not an object; to be moved by reasons, by conscious purposes, which are my own, not by causes which affect me, as it were, from outside.


Isaiah Berlin, Two Concepts of Liberty

Lonely Boy

"The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them." 


Mark Twain

New Jack Peñate

No One Lied

madretsmA

There are two things I have deduced from my weekend in Amsterdam:

1. Look out for bikes.
2. Weed is the best discovery ever known to man.

For a way of life that is completely backwards to the rest of the world, Amsterdam seems to have it right. Walking along pretty canals in a content haze, looking at the beautifully tall buildings made Amsterdam a much more tranquil place than I was anticipating. I expected my weekend to be interrupted by beer-bellied Brits with their 'LADS ON TOUR' t-shirts and loud cries for naked women. (In all fairness, a quick detour into the red light district did not let me down.) But as we walked around the nicer canals and streets, I started to notice how content and happy people are. They are constantly singing and humming to themselves, nobody is in any rush, and it seems the hustle and bustle of a normal European city is also lost in a fogginess that is not just weather related.

And what a fog that is. Liberty Haze, Pink Kush, Tangerine Dream, White Widow.. The choices were endless. You know you are in a backwards place when adding tobacco to a joint is against the law and 'frowned upon'. Each of these coffee shops cater for all walks of life, providing a snapshot of so many different people and their habits. At first, I entered these places with a sense of naughtiness and rebellion, not knowing where to look or what to say. But then it soon dawned on me that this is a completely normal past time, out in the open, accessible to all and loved by many.

After a quick inhale of the vaporisers and ice bongs, we were off on a wander. We walked and walked and walked. I love a city you can wander around and it not matter where you're going. Everyone and everything is so tall and effortlessly cool. The only traffic on the roads (or what look like pavements but turn out to be roads) are bikes, the only interruptions I had were the words 'Are you lost?' uttered from pleasant locals happy to help, and the odd near collision with a cyclist.

All in all, a very, very successful weekend.. I think.

Amsterdam for the weekend

Hopefully I'll come back as cool as this guy.

Cindy Lue

Blackout!

I always love a good protest, particularly one I can take part in from the comfort of my own home.

Today, thousands of sites have taken part in a 'blackout' move of defiance against the SOPA (and PIPA) bills. Ironically enough, I've used one of these sites to provide definitions of both. (Even more ironically, my good friends in Brixton ended their day yesterday with an actual black out.. spooky.) Initially, I turned to Wikipedia for clarification of the death of a notorious Italian director (after reading this rather heart-warming Telegraph article), and found myself faced with a black screen and small, formal looking text. I thought to myself 'Finally! They've had enough of everyone ignoring their pleas for money at the tops of their pages.' Then I took note of the message they were imposing on me. At the same time, my good friend showed me this rather thought provoking press release from The Pirate Bay. Here is my favourite bit.

''The reason they are always complaining about "pirates" today is simple. We've done what they did. We circumvented the rules they created and created our own. We crushed their monopoly by giving people something more efficient. We allow people to have direct communication between each other, circumventing the profitable middle man, that in some cases take over 107% of the profits (yes, you pay to work for them). It's all based on the fact that we're competition. We've proven that their existence in their current form is no longer needed. We're just better than they are.

And the funny part is that our rules are very similar to the founding ideas of the USA. We fight for freedom of speech. We see all people as equal. We believe that the public, not the elite, should rule the nation. We believe that laws should be created to serve the public, not the rich corporations.''

Deep. They go on to explain that Hollywood justifies their complaints by saying that they provide us consumer folk with 'culture'. This leads to one quite obvious question: If all Hollywood want to provide is culture, then why stop the majority of the public from accessing these beneficial works of art? If movies as intelligent and mindblowing as Cowboys and Aliens or those deemed necessary in the name of 'art' (such as those mentioned in the Telegraph) are classed as 'culture', then please, please, I beg you, let them pass this bloody law. The less I see of Keira 'Ikea' Knightley (geddit? flat and wooden?) and Richard 'silver-haired fox here to save hopeless woman' Gere the better.

Somebody That I Used To Know

Karmic Chameleon

I find myself struggling to post things nowadays, and this evening is no different. Every word I type is laced with whimsy and general apathy and yet, ironically enough, it still consists of a post.  Not only do I risk becoming one of those many bloggers who spend their days pouring their hearts out to their adoring subscribers, but I am also considering deleting this entire paragraph in a vain attempt to write about something poignant or thought-provoking.

And then I thought to myself - actually, I am tired of provoking thought. Why not indulge in some mindless chit-chat? Particularly when just that is few and far between. It's all about liberty(or lack of) and death (which there's plenty of) nowadays.

The particular news articles that got me today was of an 18-month-old boy genuinely being swallowed by the ground, a particularly miserable news story. I know most of us have wished to be swallowed up by the earth beneath us after an embarrassing episode, but I would hope an 18-month-old child did not reach such levels of desperation till at least puberty showed its marvellous face. A casual trip to Iran to see your Grandparents can leave you facing the death penalty. I am exasperated. Nobody is safe from Karmic injustice.

But there's no need to panic, because The Sun is a 'real force of good' to us all. Phew. Here was I thinking that morbid curiosity in the superficial and material things in life is the thing that has led us down the dark road of self-destruction, but of course I must be mistaken. If the self-deceiving editor genuinely believes he has contributed positively to modern-day society then hurrah! We are all saved. I must go out and buy this wonderful contribution to literature and maybe once and for all I will understand all those complicated articles about what Abby from Newcastle wants to do after finishing her Media degree and her breasts become too saggy to photograph.

Oh look! This post has substance. Excellent.

Pokey LaFarge and the South City Three

A very wet New Year's Day

Happy New Year folks. I spent my last hours of 2011 and first hours of 2012 at an awesome night at The Book Club in London, with lots of great soul, funk and disco to start, and a phenomenal reggae set from the Specials legend Jerry Dammers to finish. What an awesome way to start the year, long may it continue.

I thought this song was appropriate for today, in a very rainy London, and Gwen McCrae is one of the many soul divas DJ Format played last night. Happy days.