Posts Tagged ‘Pulp’
1. I cannot recommend a visit to Dennis Severs’ house enough. At 18 Folgate Street in Spitafileds stands a house frozen between 1724 and 1914. While I could bore you with my adoration and excitement of every room from basement to attic part of the wonder was going in blind and uneducated. Don’t read up too much, Dennis Sever intended for us to let the sights, sounds and smells fuel your imagination. I think if I went during each season I would have a different experience each time (so I plan to do so this year). You can book via their website.
2. There’s a ton of new music due out shortly that I’m geeking out over. Starting 2013 off with a new Pulp song produced by LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy is a start I wasn’t expecting.
3. Life of Pi is one of my favourite books and it’s hard for me to believe I first picked it up 11 years ago, intrigued by the cover. I always get itchy when films do their take on literature. This is visually beautiful, one of those rare films where 3D does add to the overall experience. My only concern is people are going along to look at the animals and missing the spiritual message that is key to Yann Martel’s book.
4. Voodoo Ray’s on Kingsland Road, Dalston, is officially my number one pizza spot in London (Franco Manca’s held on to its title for a year). Authentic New York pizza by the slice, Brooklyn lager, super friendly service that comes with genuine smiles and a very talented in-house artist who decorates the pizza boxes.
5. I wish I’d had thought to do a Twitter Q&A on The Hobbit when it was released, answers courtesy of my mum who knows everything there is to know about the book. I didn’t realise just how much of a super Tolkien nerd she was even though this would have been one of the fist books she read to all her children. I loved the Lord of the Rings trilogy from Peter Jackson (it’s funny to see how dated it now looks). The Hobbit didn’t disappoint, although no need to pay extra for 3D. Great to see so many English Actors in main roles.
NB: You can tell it’s Christmas blockbuster time at the cinema seeing as I’ve been twice in the space of two weeks. That’s nearly half the amount of times I went during the whole of 2012.
The Letter P Mixtape. Brought to you on a day I feel illogically positive.
Therefore I wanted to avoid maudlin and tragic songs where I could. Except that Perfume Genius sneaked in there because the album this is from is one of my recent favourites. Along with Polica it’s a contender for my album of the year. The video below is for the very special and beautiful friend that I sat with extremely drunk on cheap wine, holding hands, watching it on repeat. I want her to get married looking like the dancer in green next year.
There is no greater motivator in my life right now than Public Enemy’s Harder Than You Think, thanks to the Paralympics. This replaces Paul Weller’s Brand New Start which was a sadder song to make life changes too. You can’t double fist pump to Paul Weller, the mods would frown upon it.
- Pulp – Pink Glove
- Polica – Wandering Star
- Peaking Lights – Beautiful Son
- Perfume Genius – Dark Parts
- Prince – Strange Relationship
- Phoenix – Too Young
- The Psychedelic Furs – Into You Like A Train
- Patrick Wolf – The Magic Position
- Peaches – I’m The Kinda
- Public Enemy – Harder Thank You Think
This week I have learnt it is far easier to make a nine-hour playlist than it is to make a marzipan Morrissey. While making a cake topper has eluded me (so far) the music selection for my sisters & faux bro’s wedding has not. Those nine hours were eventually whittled down by half, still a lot more than is required of me. Here is a random selection of ten tracks that made the final cut. I reluctantly admitted that Azealia Banks 212 was not entirely appropriate. However I maintain I have a future career as a bad wedding DJ calling me.
My ridiculously handsome parents on their wedding day (I suspect I was the milkman and Avon ladies offspring).
- Otis Redding – Love Man
- Bugsy Malone – You Give A Little Love
- Haircut 100 – Fantastic Day
- Marvin Gaye – Got To Give It Up
- Space – Me & You Vs The World
- Alabama Shakes – I Found You
- The Clash – Train In Vain
- The Proclaimers – Lets Get Married
- Morrissey – You’re The One For Me Fatty
- Pulp – Do You Remember The First Time
Monday night we stood stomping our feet on the cobbles in an attempt to stay warm outside Rough Trade East waiting for Jarvis Cocker to present his book Mother, Brother, Lover published recently by Faber and Faber. It was decided straight from the start that the very worst thing we could do on meeting him would be to crack a joke, (it would be the faux pas music equivalent of daring to high-five the Queen).
The unlikely indie girls heart-throb took to stage with slides to accompany his reading of selected lyrics and words. (I say words because despite the cadence and flow similar to poetry I heard Jarvis correct someone ahead of me at the signing taking place afterwards when she said she enjoyed his poetry. “It’s not poetry. They’re words” he firmly stated). He read from his school days, Pulp, Relaxed Muscle, (I was the sole person that whooped at the mere mention of his not so secret project with Jason Buckle. Anyone else there remember Darren Spooner?). Slides were littered with grainy Sheffield car parks, Space, Newcastle Brown Ale and sunbeams streaming in through net curtains. All used to litter his “words” with nostalgia, irony and wit. This is the stuff geeks could only dream about on a full moon.
I always live under the happy illusion that I would exude a calm, ”do this every day” persona when it comes to meeting people I admire. Not for me the comical swooning and knee knocking. The mere fact that I am writing about this makes me painfully tragic, of this I am all too aware.
The sound of my patella’s meeting like a clacker toy was possibly audible.
He made me eat some grapes, I told him I felt like he was forcing me to eat my 5-a-day (I broke the joke rule but the trapdoor did not open below my feet thankfully). He then told me this meant I had to eat 5 grapes. I dutifully popped 5 in my mouth just to stop me saying anything else idiotic. My mere minutes in his presence, *chatting while he signed my book, has to be the most memorable Monday I’ve ever encountered. ♥
* For the record, we didn’t just talk about grapes.
This weeks playlist is dedicated to the fantastic team behind Ghosts Of Gone Birds.
When I was a wee nipper Sunday afternoons used to be all about walking round Berry Head with my Dad. The end destination being the cliffs where a colony of Guillemots used to flock. Our house was covered in ivy, home to what sounded like a million birds all tweeting. My mixtape choices this week are all bird related tunes for childhood memories, our feathered friends and for the ghosts of gone birds.
Please visit this vast exhibition at the Rochelle School in East London and set aside a good chunk of time, you have until November 23rd and it’s free (donations welcome). There is so much to see and the good souls manning the decks are brilliant to talk to. I spent an age outside with an artist who sandblasts, watching him create a flock of birds in flight. By the time I wandered inside I had given him the idea to stencil tiles as he was miffed that his art couldn’t be sold. He has promised me half a shandy if the idea takes off.
Most important is the message Ghosts Of Gone Birds are trying to paint the sky with. They are truly passionate about the plight of our winged friends. I loved going to an exhibition that welcomed photography, saying it was important their message is spread as much as possible. My photos can’t begin to capture the strength of the artists on display, where else would you see a knitted Great Auk by author Margaret Atwood? My very favourite was a whole room of Ralph Steadman cartoons, who is best known for his work with Hunter S. Thompson. Ah, sublime little room of birds, I wish I could have stayed longer.
- They Might Be Giants – Birdhouse In Your Soul
- The Bees – Chicken Payback
- Patrick Wolf – The Falcons
- The Byrds – Turn! Turn! Turn!
- The Dead Weather – 3 Birds
- The Civil Wars – Birds Of A Feather
- Wild Beasts – Albatross
- Pulp – Birds In Your Garden
- Goldfrapp – Little Bird
- Fleetwood Mac – Songbird
I recently made a plea for people to keep their ears open, how as a music lover I think it is essential to keep discovering new music. I want my life to be a constant soundtrack, ever-changing, ever-growing, sometimes heartbreaking sad, sometimes joyous and ecstatic, sometimes a precious secret, sometimes shouted from the rooftops. I hope it constantly evolves, taking me to places and down paths and through emotions like a trusted old friend.
John Peel will always be an inspiration to me. His faith in his music choices, his ear for picking out the next big thing at times years before they reached critical acclaim is a talent that I suspect cannot be taught but one I will always strive for. There are DJ’s working hard at keeping that legacy of supporting new music alive. Namely Steve Lamacq and John Peel’s son Tom Ravenscroft, who he must be immensely proud of.
I am sure many of you will be flicking through your well-worn copies of Margrave Of The Marshes this week, some of you may be catching John Peel’s Shed at Jackson Lane like lucky me. I guarantee all of you will be playing music he championed, maybe without even realising it. From PJ Harvey to Pulp via The Undertones and Nirvana.
As an oh-so painfully awkward teenager it was music I felt most connected to, spoke to me when I felt misunderstood, alone, gangly, spotty. John Peel brought me a lot of the music that saw me outgrow my acne, get a much fatter bum and find my confidence, my footing in the world.
So to him. Thank you. ♥
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Image from Future Radio
This weeks mixtape is being brought to you by a girl with a very sore head who is sincerely quite shocked that they exist without booze being the prelude. So I must forewarn you to start reading with low expectations. My weekend of skipping around Open House London was annoyingly cut short when on Saturday afternoon I had to finally admit to myself that I did actually have flu and wasn’t just trying to outdo the boy Lolita’s hangover.
Of course it could just be my body’s way of telling me to chill the flippin’ heck out. Last week wasn’t the best. Remember that job I blogged all excited about? Well three days in I discover the company are going down the swanny and will be closing at Christmas. Having just been through the panic of finding a job it’s unsettling to know you need to put yourself out there again. In this current climate job hunting takes time, energy – it’s a full-time job in itself. It’s rotten luck but what can I do but start all over again (while trying to dampen the simmering resentment currently bubbling away in the pit of my stomach). My flatmate has cleverly pitched this turn of events to me as a chance to sort out exactly what I want to do so I can “nail destiny up the arsehole”.
That low came after the excellent high of The Thames Festival and I also got to review Brian Wilson at The Royal Festival Hall for Flush The Fashion. All this on top off the aforementioned Open House. So in spite of bad news London still delivered culture, creativity and entertainment. Ever reliable beautiful London.
This weeks mixtape is as random as last week was for me. Just so you’re aware, the lyrics in Sleeper “Tore up all your photos, didn’t feel too clever, spent the whole of Monday, sticking you together”… I chuffin’ well love that line. ♥
Click on mixtape to play via Spotify.
- Jose Germain – Tout Le Monde Veut Devenir Un Cat
- The Beach Boys – Don’t Worry Baby
- Pulp - Underwear
- Sleeper – What Do I Do Now?
- The Cribs – You Were Always The One
- Echo & The Bunnymen – Bring On The Dancing Horses
- Talking Heads – Slippery People
- Arctic Monkeys – Love Is A Laserquest
- Brett Anderson – Brittle Heart
- Television – Marquee Moon
On Thursday 1st September I trotted off to see Pulp for the third time this year, lucky old me. I was also sort of celebrating, albeit in a muted fashion. For those that
stalk follow me on Twitter you’ll know I was made redundant a few weeks ago and a melodramatic panic set in. Let me tell you, in this recession riddled climate trying to find a job is harder than what the actual job entails in London right now. I started buying lottery tickets, wondering how long I could stretch out a homemade batch of Daal, considered how much of a pay cut I could budget for. I was never a student, I have always worked, so I am unskilled and unprepared for this kind of life. I’m the kind of idiot that spanks £20 on magazines just to look at the pictures while sat with a monster sized frozen yoghurt while painting my nails with a colour purchased on a whim.
Then I got the job I wanted. Out of all the soulless corporations I’d traipsed through this was the one. Normal sorts who I had an actual laugh with in the interview. What a perfect way to celebrate. Give me a stubbly man with non-existent hips any day of the week to make me feel like I’m in Mecca (lucky for me that description also fits the boy Lolita). I celebrated with my long suffering flat-mate and Jarvis Cocker. Looking back at the setlist it was every song I wanted, if Pink Glove had been included my life would have been too perfect. I’d of passed out like the girl in front of me (who found the grinding during This Is Hardcore too sexual. Not mine. Jarvis Cocker’s). Pulp purists got to hear tracks from Live Bed Show all the way back to Countdown.
Except I felt like I couldn’t cast off the shackles of unemployment quite yet. They were being thorough in their reference checks (in my mind I was just too good to be true, in reality they are a small firm and just being understandably cautious) and until that cleared I’ve continued to temp at a very religious embassy who own giant pritt sticks & eat a lot of KFC. Old colleagues told enough necessary lies about me to give me the green light. I found out yesterday that I start tomorrow.
I never got a chance to sit around in my dressing gown watching Jeremy Kyle THANK FUCK! ♥
Happy Sunday Evening Music Lovers!
I am a WRECK today. It was Lolita’s birthday bash yesterday, tons of us all crammed on to his Mum’s wonderful, magical house boat in fancy dress. I honestly can’t remember seeing anyone without a drink in their hand, especially my flat mate and Lolita’s mum who seemed to egg one another on to some huge gin-fest! The boy looked very happy, which is the main thing.
I took a chalk board and, in secret, asked everyone there to write one word that sprang to mind when they think of him. Then took their portrait with my new kick-ass wide-angle lens. Super fun project and well received when he finally saw the album I put together today. Feel free to plagiarise for your loved ones when the occasion arises.
Perhaps my favourite moment was rowing out on the Grand Union Canal at midnight in a little boat with the flatmate & partner. Why anyone in their sane mind thought that was a great idea I don’t know, but after passing a ‘rave boat’ playing 90′s techno we dedicated our row to singing 90′s songs. All the stars were out, bats were skimming over the water ahead of us as we sang Seal – Kiss From A Rose (is the song I remember most vividly). I love that level of drunk where any rhyme or reason leaves you open to special and random moments.
I don’t love the level of drunk where you hit the decks LITERALLY. I am typing this one-handed so it’s taking me a while. It’s always me that is the casualty, drunk or sober. Six years ago I broke my wrist quite spectacularly & horrendously at a roller disco (again in fancy dress) and have had to be very careful with it since. Last night I slipped on the decking and as a result gave it a bashing again like the idiot I am (that could be my DJ name. Idiot.I.Am). As the night progressed it got worse… and worse…and worse. I was shaking all over like I had a fever, Lolita had passed out way past his bedtime. In my head trying to get back from the middle of nowhere to my flat just for strong painkillers & a wrist support seemed my best option. Except I couldn’t quite dress myself so ended up stumbling out in a mickey-mouse t-shirt he’d put on me for bed, my tights & a blanket wrapped around me. I remember thinking that my Mum would be very disappointed at how dirty my shoes were, nevermind the lack of bottoms. It all felt very Crimewatch reconstruction at 4am this morning.
But I battled on, made it home to bring you a mixtape that will be a bunch of random choices again, the last three tracks are for the birthday boy. Click on Spotify to play it. From my sickbed. Enjoy! ♥
- SBTRKT – Wildfire
- Cut Copy – Where I’m Going
- Yuck – Get Away
- All Saints – Pure Shores
- Pulp – Pink Glove
- Grinderman – Palaces Of Montezuma
- Oh Land – Wof & I
- Foals – Spanish Sahara
- Nick Drake – At The Chime Of A City Clock
- Cat Stevens – If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out
Observing human behavior is a little obsession of mine. Living in London you especially get a glimpse into the true nature of man from your commute to work alone. The past couple of weeks I’ve gladly been to more gigs than I have tube journeys and I’ve been picking up on crowd behavior from spending so much time in fields with strangers. I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s a definite crowd etiquette to be adhered too. Let me know what I’ve missed. ♥
- People born tall were not genetically modified for the sole purpose of obstructing your view, no matter how convinced you are they were created for this very moment by Frankenstein to ruin your night at [insert venue name & band here]. Give the lanky people a break and don’t be mean to them. If it’s bothering you that much then you’re much better off moving than getting the pitch forks at the ready.
- If you’re going to wee in a bottle make sure you put the lid on after you’re done.
- Similarity if you’re going to wee in a cup and then throw it (anyone else witness the urine shower fest at Oasis, Milton Keynes in 2005) beware of karma. If you’re the unfortunate that ends up with wee over them, have faith that aforementioned karma will wreak revenge and get as drunk as possible so you don’t care.
- Do not be a snob about the appearance of those around you. At Arcade Fire, Hyde Park, we had the most amazing time with a bunch of ‘chavs’ (for want of a better term) from Croydon. A similar crowd at Pulp, again Hyde Park, were equally beautiful to spend time with and were so concerned they may be obstructing our view they kept apologising (seemingly forgetting about the thousands surrounding us). Your behavior is infectious so spread your excitement and happiness.
- If you are concerned about being trod on/personal space/being crowded/hurt/not breathing properly/having too many people in close proximity/people sneezing near you perhaps going to a gig was not the wisest choice. We had a lady behind us recently who constantly complained of all the above on rotation throughout the whole set.
- Be the bigger person and don’t react to anyone trying to start to a fight. I know it can take a lot to walk away from someone who gets all up in your grill but don’t let someone’s negative attitude ruin the memories you are making. Inevitably when you mix drink, confined spaces and crowds tension can bubble over but you can choose not to be a part of that.
- People move. A lot. If you don’t like shifting an inch to let someone past to get to the bar, or you don’t agree with people having a dance then stand at the sidelines or sit at home and listen to the CD. Recently had someone appalled that we were dancing (along with 500 other people)
- Don’t throw drink at people when they’re on someone’s shoulders. Firstly it’s a waste of liquid. Secondly, both the top and bottom of the human totem will only last a song or two maximum so eventually your view will be restored.
- Save your chit chat for the bar. I’m not saying don’t mutter a word for the duration but someone just reminded me that talking grates on them. I remembered a gig at Brixton Academy where two girls chatted the entire time from ex boyfriends facebook updates to outfits. It was painful and ruined the gig for me entirely.
- This is festival advice only, but if you are strongly opposed to an act do yourself and everyone else a favour by choosing to do something different with your time. I was surrounded by the disillusioned and downright grumpy during Beyoncé at Glastonbury that were not budging in their hate. The excitement around them was not catching light. If you have options use them to your advantage. That has to be better than sulking.
- If you see people struggling to take a group photo, especially lovely couples trying to capture their latest Facebook profile picture do what karma would smile at you for and offer to take their photo. People want their memories to last & it will come back around when you need it doing.
- Perhaps what I found most interesting recently was an apparent divide during Pulp. I witnessed this fall into two categories. Once when a group of women in their thirties were berating some younger girls because they couldn’t possibly be “original” Pulp fans, one of the girls said “I’m not apologising for being 18″, and quite rightly so. Also, there was a geographical split as I heard a large group of people from Sheffield pointing out people in their immediate area and sneeringly accusing folk of being from London based on how much they were dancing/shouting/singing. Music is universal and no one, and I really do mean NO ONE, has a bigger claim over music based on geography, sex, age, shoe size, commitment to the cause (Jarvis himself acknowledged that although Sheffield is his home town the songs would not exist had he not moved to London). Enjoy it for what it means to you, and not what you think it doesn’t mean to others.