Posted on:Words

17 again

No, not some godawful tween movie. That feeling. When I was a kid, 17 held complete magic to me. In hindsight it’s probably because it was such a cusp age. Absolutely anything is possible when reality hasn’t had a chance to bite.

Anyway, I met Egyptian Hip Hop on Friday. They are all very 17. Part hip kids, part hyper intelligent musicians. They know exactly what they’re doing in a ‘what-the-hell-are-we-doing’ kind of way. They were a lot of fun to interview. I say ‘interview’. What I really mean is loosely guided chaos. I’m not going to go on about them now (except to say they’re bloody amazing) because the piece will be up on Dummy Mag soon but meeting them made me think about the internet…

…and how it is changing our experience of music. The music we used to listen to when we were kids was that which we had access to. So, the music of our parent’s, our friends’, the radio, TV.  Today’s kids can listen to anything because they have access to everything. They can leapfrog through the top friends of friends of friends of friends to find music in other cites, other countries, other centuries.

That’s exciting and also strange. I like this erosion of time and space but I also find it bewildering. We can reach across decades and seas in nano-seconds. We can bring people back from the dead. We can be profoundly affected by music that would never have even reached our ears had the internet not been born.

Anyways, that was just what I was thinking this morning.

Posted on:Words

To Duckie, with love

Last night I had my hysteria diagnosed (worst case the doctor had seen apparently), helped stitch an abortion tapestry, created a perfume that smelled like my mum (dried roses, lavender, and freshly baked bread, if you’re wondering), observed a nipple casting (in chocolate), and visited a lipstick museum featuring the various lip stains of Lady Di, Eva Braun, and Mother Teresa. Oh Gay Shame, we’ve only just met but I’m going to miss you forever.

Gay Shame was originally created by Duckie – incidentally one of my favourite places to dance – as an Arts Council-funded alternative to the corporate overkill of Gay Pride. Now Pride is “a nice little community celebration run by volunteers,” said producer Simon Casson in last week’s Boyz magazine, “we don’t really have any big problem with it, and therefore there’s nothing really to kick against. I think the theme has run its course.”

Going out with a busty bang, this last hurrah was a glorious celebration of femininity. Brixton Academy was transformed into an Alice in Wonderland funfare of sideshows, music, magic and mischief. The inimitable Readers Wifes provided the soundtrack, local dance group Stylinquents impressed on stage and headliners Saint Etienne took us all on a nostalgia trip. Only love can break your heart indeed.

The real stars of the show, however, were the artists and performers running the lovingly created sideshows. Each one was a work of art in itself, an intricately detailed bubble of exploration and adventure. The lines between performer and observer blurred at every turn, each stall inviting participation in spontaneous and unscripted bursts of group theatre. Not that it felt anything as definable as that. What did it feel like? Freeing, actually. Pure play instead of the tired daily roles and routines we ascribe ourselves. Duckie, I salute you.

Posted on:Words

Radio mum and dad

Some artists occupy an irreplaceable space in your heart without you realising it. Music your folks used to dance round the living room to while you screwed up your face in embarrassment on the sofa. Songs that take you right back to the days of just-ten-more-minutes before bed.

There are so many amazing ways to discover and connect to music these days but the records of your childhood have the ability to reconnect you. They possess a time-travelling power that reunites you with moments, feelings and places your mind had previously lost down the back of the sofa sometime in 1989.

Listening to last.fm radio sent me on this musical memory trip. Strong female singers like Alison Moyet, Joni Mitchell, Chrissie Hynde, and Tracy Chapman were a big presence in our living room. That’s my mum and dad bopping in the corner…

The Pretenders ‘Don’t Get Me Wrong’
Joni Mitchell ‘Come In From The Cold’
The Communards ‘Don’t Leave Me This Way’
Thompson Twins ‘Hold Me Now’
Suzanne Vega ‘Marlene On The Wall’
Erasure ‘A Little Respect’
Alison Moyet ‘Weak In The Presence Of Beauty’
Joni Mitchell ‘My Secret Place’
Tanita Tikaram ‘Good Tradition’