An outrageously cool song.
Tuesday, 4 September 2012
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
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.
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.
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 |
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.
Sunday, 19 August 2012
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!
Thursday, 16 August 2012
How Not to Grow Up
My life is in disarray.
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.
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...
 |
| The Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury '11 |
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. |
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...
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
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.
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.
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.
Friday, 18 May 2012
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