Milky

Photos | 20/02/2005 at 12:27:39

Speak For England – James Hawes. Cape.

Words | 20/02/2005 at 12:22:47

In an increasingly globalised world, notions of nationhood and identity are ripe for reassessment and scrutiny. In his new novel James Hawes attempts to distil an essence of Englishness, like literary Bovril, from this saga - part satire, part Boy’s Own Adventure. Swimming around in the resulting gloop we find many examples of Englishmen. A Blairite PM and his scheming cohorts, coke-snorting, aga-owning media types, fat, florid Tory publishers, the comic book hero Dan Dare and, lastly, Brian Marley – the feeble, divorced, downtrodden, 40-something TEFL teacher and the tale’s main protagonist.

Desperate to make something of himself, Brian turns to reality television as a last resort and finds himself in the jungles of Papua New Guinea as the surviving contestant of Brit Pluck, Green Hell, Two Million – a sort of I’m A Celeb-to-the-death. His triumph is short-lived, however, and when Brian watches the rescue helicopter crash, he is left with no hope of survival. Brian expects certain death. What he does not expect is to stumble across an encampment of plucky Brits in the midst of a jolly afternoon cricket match. Brian has discovered the survivors of the Comet IV crash, who believe themselves to be the first casualties of WWIII and who have lived in the jungle for fifty years waiting for a sign that England made it through. He finds himself in a bizarre Blyton-esque version of England, run like a demented prep school by the Headmaster, a fearsome figure of authority and firm believer in the values of Queen and country. So when a rescue party finally arrives and Headmaster learns that dear old Blighty is no longer the green and pleasant land of the past, what does he do? Well, he gives the sound bite hunting, limelight hogging Prime Minister six of the best for starters.

The satire in Speak For England is often limp and unfunny. In fact, so many of Hawes’ targets in this novel have been so thoroughly lampooned in the past, that there’s almost nothing left to snigger at – media luvvies, Blairite spin, reality TV. It all feels rather tired. Brian Marley is a successfully realised character and some of the 50’s gang are suitably terrifying, but the way that fully formed characters rub up against two dimensional cardboard cut-outs is often jarring. Equally unbecoming is the lurid, almost fetishist attitude towards the Utility Britain of the 50s. Ultimately, Hawes does little to answer any of the questions he raises about what it is to be British, instead spinning a ripping yarn in which satire is almost toppled under the weight of nostalgia.

<b>Appeared in Time Out 2nd February - 9th February 2005</b>

Carpark/Pawtracks Showcase. Spitz. 15/01/05. [Blood Stereo, Alexander Tucker, Signer, Panda Bear].

Words | 20/02/2005 at 12:21:39

It was supposed to be an evening of squirly loveliness - slightly out of range transmissions from New Weird America courtesy of Ariel Pink and Panda Bear. I even put on my favourite t-shirt with bunny rabbits on; I was getting in the mood, I tell you. My blissful state was somewhat punctured by the news that most of Ariel Pink failed to make it through immigration at Heathrow. Then, in turn, by Blood Stereo - who make music to mutilate yourself to. It’s as bleak as noise gets – they could make a rusty buzzsaw death atop a multi-storey car park in Solihull seem cheery. No bunnies, no melodies, yes detuned radios, but not such that any humanity could be detected. Being loud, they at least managed to keep the crowd noise at bay, which can’t be said for Alexander Tucker, a nice young man playing blues licks through a delay pedal until they drone and whose set was hampered by the most disinterested East London crowd imaginable. At first, it seemed that Signer suffered the same fate. Initially inaudible, I gathered that they made a strummy sort of indie with impossibly quiet vocals. Then they added some tinny laptop beats, followed by a fuck off grunge track to finish – strangely unfocused, rather like watching your mates’ second ever band practice. Finally, everyone stopped talking and a bumfluffed dude with just a sampler and his voice took the place captive. Shaking off the monastic feel of his recent solo record, the set sparkled in a way that nothing before had – layers of textured acoustic guitar, lazy, almost dub beats and beautiful, interlacing vocals meshed into a cohesive whole. Order from chaos. For once, it was the Panda that saved the people.

<b>Appeared in the February-March 2005 issue of Plan B Magazine</b>

Interview: Bloc Party's Kele Okereke. 14/08/04. NYC.

Words | 05/02/2005 at 13:44:29

Waaay back in August I had the pleasure of interviewing Kele on his first trip to New York for a local magazine called 'Sup. The issue is finally coming out and all residents of the 5 boros should be able to pick it up from your local awesome record store. Everyone else can check out the current issue @ www.supmag.com. The artwork is real nice. Anyway, here's how the interview went down:

In March or April of this year, a friend of mine dragged me into her bedroom to play me this record that she was obsessed with, which couldn’t be removed from her turntable. She dropped the needle on “Banquet,” Bloc Party’s second UK single, and played it once through. Then, without speaking, she immediately put it on again. And we danced around the room like total idiots. We played it four times in a row. As soon as I got home that night I jumped online and began furiously searching record shops in order to secure that precious 7-inch. I needed it in my life. Right away. To say that Bloc Party are a punk-funk band is to sell them short. Of course there is, unquestionably, a groove element incorporated in their guitar-based sounds. But to try and slot them into any particular scene, especially one that’s so of the moment - and presumably transitory - is to ignore the real strength of their songwriting as well as their uniqueness. Bloc Party are Kele Okereke (vocals, guitar), Russell Lissack (lead guitar), Gordon Moakes (bass, backing vocals) and Matt Tong (drums). Kele and Russell met through a mutual friend at the Reading Festival when they were still in school. They formed a musical partnership and after playing with a succession of drummers and bassists, found Gordon and then Matt through an NME ad at the end of 2002. Hitting on the name Bloc Party, they produced a demo and had the foresight to send it to then-up-and-coming band Franz Ferdinand. The band were so impressed with what they heard, they asked Bloc Party to open for them at a Domino anniversary party they were putting together. Then Kele slipped a copy of the demo to influential BBC Radio 1 DJ Steve Lamacq, who played them on his reputable evening show. So far, so hype. It’s only gotten more interesting from there. Here in the States, Bloc Party are due to release a full album as soon as they get a label deal, and in the meantime, a self-titled EP is available on U.S. label Dim Mak Records. I sat down with singer Kele in a crappy deli just off Times Square in August and began to discuss some of the crazy things that have been happening to Bloc Party over the last six months. He’d just arrived in New York from Japan, where the band is already being treated like rock stars. Which, if exciting, is also somewhat overwhelming.

<b>ArenÂ’t you getting used to that sort of madness in the UK?</b>

I’ve started to notice it. A lot of it seems to be the way you look. People seem to recognize me quite a lot where I live now. And whenever I go to clubs – I’ve kind of stopped going to clubs and gigs a bit – it’s just weird. It’s the nicest thing that people are into what you’re doing. I just don’t really know how to stop speaking to people.

<b>Right. It must sort of take over.</b>

TheyÂ’re not speaking to me as a person, theyÂ’re speaking to the guy they see on MTV or in a magazine. ItÂ’s like it doesnÂ’t feel real. They wouldnÂ’t be speaking to me if they didnÂ’t know who I was. I mean, itÂ’s fine, but I canÂ’t really see past that unless people have something really interesting to say. When we were in Copenhagen, Michael Stipe came to see us play a gig and I was speaking to him afterwards in a private part of the club and in a half-hour conversation, four people came up to him and they said nothing. They just wanted to shake his hand and ask him, like, inane questions. But he was incredibly polite.

<b>I guess he must be so used to it.</b>

Yeah. He’s been doing it for, what, twenty years or something? I asked him how he learned to deal with that and he said, ‘Y’know, you’ve just got to say you have to go speak to your friends or something. I mean, these people buy your records and take home a part of you, but they won’t be offended if you say you have to get on with your life.’ But that’s going to take a while to get used to.

<b>How is it in the States? Is it your first time here with the band?</b>

Our albumÂ’s being mixed here, so IÂ’ve come out just to listen to the mixes and find out how theyÂ’re going. So itÂ’s just me and our manager out here and itÂ’s the first time IÂ’ve been to New York. ItÂ’s nice. I always thought IÂ’d never be able to live in America, but thereÂ’s a real speed to the way peopleÂ…thereÂ’s so many different types of people here.

<b>Is it intimating being in New York in terms of the hype and everything spreading from here?</b>

I remember quite vividly when we were an unsigned band, you know, playing to a crowd with like two people in it. And we were doing that about eight months ago. No one came and saw us play. But I always knew when we were playing that if people actually saw us I knew theyÂ’d be into what we were doing. It really moves me. I mean, not to say that it will move everyone, but when we play good gigs, thereÂ’s something in the air and you know youÂ’ve actually touched people. I hope that people will be impressed with what weÂ’re doing. I hope it isnÂ’t just hype.

<b>I think Franz Ferdinand have really opened the ears of a lot of fans over here in terms of British bands again. IÂ’m not sure, but I think a lot of British bands have struggled to be heard here the last couple of years.</b>

Yeah, I think theyÂ’ve definitely kicked a door open in terms of the way people perceive British bands. ItÂ’s good that people are going to be responsive to what weÂ’re doing. IÂ’m just so glad we met each other because it feels like we really understand each other musically. Also, IÂ’ve never played in a band thatÂ’s felt as good as the band IÂ’m playing with at the moment. It must be massively satisfying. The part I enjoy the most is the songwriting - more than playing gigs, more than recording, more than touring. When thereÂ’s nothing and suddenly thereÂ’s something, and suddenly thereÂ’s like a song that wasnÂ’t there half an hour ago. ThereÂ’s nothing in the world better than that feeling when youÂ’re all really excited about something.

<b>So is that your experience of recording your new album? Did the pieces just fall into place?</b>

Um, no. It was hard. Obviously you live with the songs for a year as you play them live and the thing about making a piece of music is, well, itÂ’s not just enough to record the live version. YouÂ’ve got to pull it apart and work out how itÂ’s going to work on the record. And, you know, thatÂ’s really, really daunting.

<b>Is it sort of dangerous?</b>

ItÂ’s just something that IÂ’m not sure I do very well. IÂ’m not very comfortable with it, really. But luckily there wasnÂ’t too much of that on this album. It was more like arrangement ideas - that was the main worry. It sounds really, really cool, in fact. ItÂ’s going to take a lot of people by surprise, I think.

<b>Really?</b>

Yeah. WeÂ’re seen as this sort of spiky punk-funk band or whatever, and that is an aspect of what we do, but itÂ’s only an aspect.

<b>Yeah, but you havenÂ’t written any slow jams, have you?</b>

(Laughs) Well, just wait and see. ThatÂ’s all IÂ’m going to say.

<b>So what kind of message are you sending to your audience with a song like “The Marshals Are Dead”? You start by telling the scenesters and hipsters to fuck off…</b>

That’s kind of a strange song – I was talking about this when we were in Japan. I kind of let the words write themselves, for the most part. So subconsciously there’s like a connection, but, yeah, you ask me what it’s about and I couldn’t tell you. It’s like, the imagery is of something changing; it’s about trying to find something that’s going to be real. But I know that that doesn’t happen. I know that every singer in a band thinks that their way is the right way. And, I mean, why should we be any different; why should we be any better, you know? I don’t want people to think that we have all the truths about life, because we don’t. Life’s about finding things for yourself and I can’t stress that enough. I never had any heroes when I was a kid. But, you know, they were just songs that were good songs and they moved me, and I could really lose myself in them. I mean, that’s the thing that really motivates me.

<b>I might be wrong, but I get the feeling that Bloc Party are kind of a political band – maybe it’s your name or the style of your website, or songs like “The Marshals Are Dead.”</b>

I think itÂ’s something that, amongst the four of us, weÂ’re still not reconciled about. There was interview I read where you specifically said that you thought mixing music and politics was dangerous. Yeah, and I do think that, but I think weÂ’ve given out a very mixed message with the website and the name. You know, that was all meant to be tongue-in-cheek, but I realized that people arenÂ’t taking it as that. I wanted to remove those banners from the website, because IÂ’m the one having to answer these questions, not the others. And itÂ’s something I feel very strongly about.

<b>But do you think mixing music and politics is a bad thing because itÂ’s pop, or because itÂ’s dangerous for your career, or because it pigeon-holes the band?</b>

Well, that’s exactly it. Obviously, it’s not a commercial concern, it’s just a concern that like, it’s music, and if there’s this nonstop preaching, like with the Manic Street Preachers – I never liked them – always going on about the way you should live your life. When they’re this major label band! (Laughs) Don’t get me wrong, one of the things that influences the way that I write lyrics is a reaction to sort of social stimulus; you know, it’s a reaction to things. We’re four guys who live in the world and see what’s happening in the world, so of course that’s going to feed into the way we write songs. I think the way to really touch someone about it is just, like, take it to a personal level, to try and convey, like—

<b>Like situations?</b>

ThatÂ’s it. You know, not sort of hitting people over the head with useless sloganeering. No one hears the words! No oneÂ’s gonna hear that at a gig.

<b>Yeah. I mean, I saw Sonic Youth play last night and Thurston was asking, ‘Are you gonna vote the right-wing fascist pigs out of office?’ and all this and then came out at the encore and kind of apologized about it.</b>

Well, that’s exactly it! I mean, we’re all people that live in the real world and we’re living in some really scary times. Especially in this country, it’s like, we’re looking at a new chapter of everything, and people have to be vigilant. But just preaching at kids isn’t going to do anything. You’ve got to let them discover it for themselves! Kids have to make their own mistakes if they’re going to learn anything at all. I mean, saying politics and music don’t mix…I’m not advocating that you do a Jack White and you don’t talk about it at all. I just think that you have to be really careful about how you do it. It’s so easy to sound trite when you start going on about issues. Because when you’re in a band, you’re in such a privileged position, you know? You’re not really living in the real world. I wouldn’t trust someone if they started going on about Marxist politics and—

<b>Â…meanwhile theyÂ’re like this big, rich rock star!</b>

Yeah, IÂ’d think, what the fuck is this? ItÂ’s just something that, I dunno, I just hope people are really motivated this time to not let that guy [George Bush] stay in office. Because I just think itÂ’s going to be horrible. I think itÂ’s going to be a horrible situation for all of our kids.

(photo - Jessica Adams)

Parka Blues

Cartoons | 22/01/2005 at 22:05:04

Has anyone else noticed how warm this winter has been in London? Every morning I put on my winter coat and cane it out the door, run down the stairs, run down the hill and by the time I get to the tube I'm about to die of heat exhastion. It's so incredibly warm, there's shoots on the trees in our street and I saw a bumble bee buzzing around last week. A bumble bee! In January! It's the end of the world, I tell you.