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Love H xx

We Are Scientists

Its rare to find yourself at a gig and spend a solid 50% adoring the music and the other 50% laughing (perhaps a bit too) heartily at the on stage banter. Impressively, We Are Scientists manage to balance this wit with a sturdy canon of songs that have stood the test of fickle indie times.

Coming straight from their set at Glastonbury the night before, it felt almost a treat to watch the band in such an intimate surrounding and they seemed to flourish all the better for it. Their line up may have changed in recent years but the chemistry between lead singer Keith, and bassist Chris still remains and it is within this partnership where the band's longevity arises. However it is not personality alone that has got them this far, as they display an impressive array of new songs coupled with debut album favourites which were performed with more gusto than anticipated by this eager crowd.

With a bassist that demanded Jager shots be brought the the stage whilst consuming a bottle of wine and still managing to seamlessly perform a track, it becomes hard to be anything other than impressed. It's cliché to say the atmosphere was electric but its a struggle to describe the excitement in any other way. With all this in their favour, its all the more strange that WAS aren't huge. They have always been on the brink of mainstream popularity but there is perhaps an intelligence behind their music which lacks universal appeal. The show tonight proves their ability, whilst also confirming their level of intelligence; and it shouldn't be any other way.

H x

Kate Tempest

I can't say I am a massive fan of slam poetry but I think Kate Tempest transcends this genre. I was talking recently to a friend and we discussed poetic movement and whether they still exsist and this rendition of "Cannibal Kids" suggests there is. Exciting, chilling and relevant.

hx

Liz Lochhead

We were first equal Mary and I
with the same coloured ribbons in mouse-coloured
hair,
and with equal shyness
we curtseyed to the lady councillor
for copies of Collins’s Children Classics.
First equal, equally proud.

Best friends too Mary and I
a common bond in being cleverest(equal)
in our small school’s small class.
I remember
the competition for top desk
or to read aloud the lesson
at school service.
And my terrible fear
of her superiority at sums.

I remember the housing scheme
Where we both stayed.
The same house, different homes,
where the choices were made.

I don’t know exactly why they moved,
but anyway they went.
Something about a three-apartment
and a cheaper rent.
But from the top deck of the high school bus
I’d glimpse
among the others on the corner
Mary’s father, mufflered, contrasting strangely
with the elegant greyhounds by his side.
He didn’t believe in high school education,
especially for girls,
or in forking out for uniforms.

Ten years later on a Saturday-
I am coming home from the library-
sitting near me on the bus,
Mary
with a husband who is tall,
curly haired, has eyes for no one else but Mary.
Her arms are round the full-shaped vase
that is her body.
Oh, you can see where the attraction lies
in Mary’s life-
not that I envy her, really.

And I am coming from the library
with my arms full of books.
I think of the prizes
that were ours for the taking
and wonder when the choices got made
we don’t remember making.

- Liz Lochhead: The Choosing

Wimbledon

Its that time of year. Strawberries, cream and ridiculous amounts of Pimm's will be cosumed and thank god. I see there no more reason to have a look at all the tennish fashinistas of the past and bask in the short shorts glory.

Martin Parr

In my trip to Krakow, I visited the nation gallery and there was an amazing exhibition of British photography fron the 80's. The photographers are most definately really famous but I have only experienced them and the work of Martin Parr was definately my favourite. An unflinching and nostalgic look at how we celbrate summer seems only fitting when the sun is making a cameo appearance at the moment!

p.s. I couldn't help but be struck by how little we have moved on fashion wise from the 80's. Is it a bit werid that each decade can so much be recognised my their fashion (the hideous patterns of the 70's, the shoulder pads of the 80's ect) yet I couldn't give one thing that would identify the noughties? How sad.

H xxx

Ginsberg

"All the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoe, breasts—begotten sons—your Communism—'Paranoia' into hospitals."

-- Allen Ginsberg: Kaddish

Pixels

Exactitudes

Think you are individual? Think again, as the brains behind 'Exactitudes' teach us that sub cultures are not as underground as they would like to think they are. A fascinating and time consuming exploration of indentity and what role fashion play within that.

H xx

Strawberries

There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you

let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills

let the storm wash the plates


- Edwin Morgan