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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

Ryan McGinley

Ryan McGinley is doing something really special. These vivid, spontaneous, beautiful and engaging photos emphasise what it means to be young. The vivacious impulses are impossible to avoid as he combines innocence and nudity with a look of comfortable confidence in all of those he photographs. Stunning.

H xxx

Poland

Standing on the corner of a busy road surrounded by three massive men in puffa jackets who had just snatched out passports whilst shouting at us is perhaps not the most ideal way to end a holiday. However, in an odd way its in this bizarre encounter that my trip to Poland is summed up. Don't get me wrong, Krakow was a stunning and ultimately lovely place to be yet I couldn't shrug off the idea that I was very, very far from home. With a language that you can't even attempt to pronounce and inhabitants which never stopped staring and my friend and I (heaven forbid because we were the only ones not wearing hoodies and trainers) it became very easy to feel unsettled.

Sitting in a tex mex themed restreaunt (because we really exbraced the polish cuisine) I though I would be safe for at least an hour from the country's oddness yet when a man reached over to our table and asked “can I please take a photo of you eating” I reckoned it was time to get out of there. I was very confused at how I felt about the people and the country when I left Poland. I have always considered myself an openminded person and when this is combined with a city full of the most eclectic and stunning architecture I have seen, you think I'd be on to a winner. But I was distanced. It felt so alien and I don't know why.

As I write this I am becoming more and more aware of how idiotic I sound. Just because a country thinks apple and mint would make a good drink combination doesn't mean you should write it off. I learnt an important thing in Poland and that is the importance of travel. It sounds cliched and at the time we may think that “oh its just a holiday” but the experiences we have there, become invaluable to the growth of our tollerance. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and when I thought about it, I was being stupid, sterotypical and judgemental about a nation which has a such a rich tradition and culture which I was ingornat to and made to no attempt to rectify. And hey, who can hate a country and that idolises Pope John Paul II as much as God himself!

It's easy to be rude, it's easy to genralise and it's particularly easy to abandon a country becuase its differnt. Yet its precisely because of this that I have eventually come to admire Krakow . It might be a bit rough round the edges and a bit old fashioned in its ways but there is always something to gain from wherever you find yourself.

H xx

P.s. I am beginning to sound self-rightous and for this I apologise!

8th June 2010

MUST WRITE MORE BLOGS.

Kick Ass

Its safe to say there has been some controversy with Kick Ass due to "Hit Girl", a potty mouthed 12 year old gangster girl (heaven knows where the controversy comes from!). But if you are anyone other than a Daily Mail journalist, the shock of seeing this will dissolve in about 7 seconds because what follows is a truly outstanding film. The tale of a superhero with no powers, the morality of a teenager who just wants to do the right thing is one which strikes a cord but to think of this as a kid friendly comic character would be completely incorrect. Kick Ass is helped along the way by a Father and Daughter combo, who take crime fighting to the next level with a brutality that is perfectly balances with a score that really punctuates the film.

Strangely, one of the highlights is the performance from that of Nicholas Cage, in a role which helps him reclaim his quirky edge. This short chilling laughs and the nonchalant use of bazookas and machine guns is of course shocking but equally tarantino-esqu in its surreal wit. Yet it is Aaron Johnson who has to take responsibility for this film and luckily he displays his dexterity in an utterly convincing portrayal of a geeky American teen (despite pretending to be a lot weirder looking than he actually is) which erases any memory of him being a scouse icon the month before.

I hate comics and I will fully admit this prejudice because it goes to illustrate just how omnipotent Kick Ass is. Through using what you think would alienate viewers, we are instead united in a satisfaction. There is certainly a confidence and attitude which allows you to believe from the start that what you are watching is as good as you think it is.

H xx

A Single Man

Its hard to think of what has not already been said about this stunning film. "A return to form for Colin First" seems a ridiculous statement. Just because we may have become dissolutioned by his mainstream focus, Firth has maintained a steady balance of acting excellence which has simply been ignored therefore it is refreshing for such a film to gain the recognition and respect it has.

Perhaps distracting is Tom Fords direction at times. Although it is undeniably beautiful as a film, it can't help but be felt that we are watching a Gucci campaign at times. The lingering shots a Firth and Goode on the beach feel as if one of the is going to douse themselves in cologne at any moment. However despite this minor flaw, Ford has accomplished an intelligent and sophisticated film for what is essentially an intense two hours watching Firth's face.

It is a poignant exploration of mortality and our place in the world when the monotony of it all gets too much and at the heart of it is sexuality at a time in which it was a taboo to accept it. Julienne Moore as always provides a gleaming presence as a long suffering friend to Firth, in love with him whilst accepting internally that gay relationship don't actually count to anything. It is a film with a message that doesn't bang you over the head with it, it is not trying to be political, it is not trying to be controversial, it is simply trying to be a good film and it succeeds in copious amounts.

H xx

Precious (based on the novel by Push)

So recently Precious has been shrouded by praise and publicity and recognised for its outstanding performances (and interesting cameos). Therefore, its fair to say that I went in watching the film with a certain level of expectation that sadly was not met. It seems that the film prides itself on grittyness, and the story is clearly an emotionally tortured one. However, sheer grittyness alone cannot justify the shoddy and disjointed direction combined with the feeling that the film never settled, as up until the end I was still waiting for it to properly begin. This is most notibly highlighted in Precious' dream sequences when she escapes the turmoil of her abuse. As much as the relief is needed in the film, such additions felt uneasy and uncomfortable in a production that didn't know where it wanted to end up. It never found its stride and was saved only by the stand out performance of Precious' mother (Mo'Nique) which was portrayed to a hauntingly real degree, with an intent and hidousness that crossed all boundaries. Silmialry, as much as I would like to criticise the concept of celbrity casting, the cameos delivered by Mariah Carey and Lenny Kravitz were a surpisingly refreshing addition. Luckily the film itself has a strong enough cast to support its juvenile downfalls and it seems a shame that a film with such a powerful message became overshadowed by a dissapointing execution.


H xx

Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll

The curtain opens, the spotlight is in position and just like that the pale faced, charismatic, DIY aficionado himself appears. Ian Dury quickly became an 80's icon for his haphazard performances and inspired use of language. Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll tells the story of this new wave beacon (played by Andy Serkis) through an exploration of his disability which he gained through early polio and the tremulous relationship he had with his two children. Serkis delivers a spine-chilling performance which is due to the fact that he never settles on whether Dury is obnoxious or lovable, difficult or desirable and its through this ever ending flux that his passion and intent effervesces on screen. A sense of restlessness and chaos is never far away with the film reflecting that of Dury's own persona. With snapshots and flashbacks of his distraught upbringing in a hospital for disabled children we are rarely allowed to forget why Dury is the way he is and this jilted style of direction maintains the pace required. Complimentary to this is the somewhat inspired decision to include the animations of Peter Blake, whose bright and vivid depictions of 70's London act as a stark contrast to the the dark and sullied realities Dury's true life.

Ultimately at the heart is a calamitous portrayal of a father and son's relationship in pieces. Dury's own guilt towards how he has brought up Baxter (Played by Ben Milner) is coupled with his inability to overcome this hurdle due to the grievance he has with his own father's abandonment. Perhaps the films only downfall is in the confusingly incoherent portrayal of Baxter. Milner showed great potential in earlier films such as Son of Ranbow where his innocence and charm were highlighted in equal doses yet there was something grating and unbalanced in this, his most recent work. What should have been a portrayal about a son in turmoil over his fathers volatility became an annoyingly whiny performance that jaded a potentially heart breaking plot.

Despite this, the indulgences were plentiful with the biggest and most surprising coming in the form of Serkis's own impressive vocals. The exhaustive passion that is given when we see him perform on stage is electrifying and utterly atmospheric and the fact that they are original vocals performed with The Blockheads themselves only elevates the films authenticity and power. This is matched with the pantomime-esque theatricality as we see Dury himself narrate his own story throughout the film with magic tricks and all. At times he is a pithy, charming and highly intelligent presence when in the next second we are led to despise his frivolous and ultimately selfish lifestyle showing a versatility that striking

At times the film becomes confused as to where it wants to go and how it wants to be defined. It's this dip in consistency which prevents it from becoming a masterpiece. That said, Serkis gives the hauntingly raw performance of his career and can no longer avoid the radar as he defines himself as a true British talent, managing to balance both the fragility and aggression of a man in crisis. It could have been easy to produce a film that looked at Dury through rose tinted glasses, illuminating his iconic status and avoiding all the 'nasty bits' but instead is an unapologetic embrace to a humans faults and flaws.

H xx

Nowhere Boy

We hear the first note of 'A Hard Day's Night" and that is all, but its powerful enough to transport us in to 50's Liverpool and with this we enter the early life of John Lennon (Played by Aaron Johnson). It seems to be the season of the biopic with films like Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll creating great buzz (as Andy Serkis delivers a chilling;y excellent performance). But this is perhaps where the similarities end. Although tragic, I dont think the early life of Lennon can be justified as watchable. The film at times lacks the pithy wit that Lennon became so loved for and in the absence of this we are reminded that nostalgia rules what we want to see. The portrayal of Paul McCratney alone seemed bizarre. He was not explored further enough to be a considerable character and therefore we were left wondering if there was a point to such a performance with Thomas Sangster trying his best to make a part out of a shoddily written idea.

Kristin Scott Thomas however, delivers a commendably measured performance as the strained Aunt Mimi with such harshness resulting in a captivating watch. Similarly this is complimented well by the somewhat rebellious cheeky chappy Aaron Johnson. He shows a sophistication to his performance which resonates most poignantly during the funeral of his mother. The raw and complex emotions are visibly seen and in that moment all can be forgiven for his part to play in Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging.

This seems to be an organic film and very much a labour of love for those involved but ultimately the it indulges too much in the relationship with his mother to the point where all other plot lines are either abandoned not seen objectively. This hy[hyperbolic focus on emotion became overwhelming at times and restraint was needed with 'less is more' being an apt motto for Sam Taylor Wood's future work.

H xx