OPI shatter nail polish collaboration with Olivia Rubin by Novemto Komo.
I do like a press day where you can get your hair and nails done, price so despite my lack of time I decided to swing by South Molton Street yesterday to visit Olivia Rubin, who was greeting all visitors personally – what a nice touch. No high falutin’ designer here, plus she was very good about my review of her A/W 2011 catwalk show, which mainly banged on about the high celebrity quotient.
Olivia Rubin at her A/W 2011 press day.
Usually there is a massive queue for free grooming but I chanced upon a lull having missed, by mere minutes, a whirlwind visit from The Only Way Is Essex pop group Lola. Damn. They were the ones who distracted me at her A/W 2011 catwalk show. Actually, maybe it’s a good thing I missed them.
Olivia Rubin bespoke cupcakes by Cute as a Cupcakes. Always the cupcakes… but I have to admit these really were a stunning compliment to her new collection.
Anyway, I decided to grab the opportunity to try out the new OPI shatter collection produced in collaboration with Olivia Rubin and for sale in exclusive colour combinations at ASOS and other stores soon. It’s a great idea because Olivia is known for her bold use of animal prints and this looks a bit like a leopard print from afar.
Olivia Rubin shatter nail polish collaboration with OPI. Nice bright colours as always.
Did you know that OPI takes its name from the dental company whence the first nail products sprang from? Back in the early 1980s George Schaeffer took over a dental supply business called Odontorium Products Inc, and quickly realised the potential for transferring the technology behind acrylic dentures into the crafting of false nails. Not very sexy eh? But that’s the way it rolls in the beauty industry. Happily, OPI do not test on animals.
Olivia Rubin’s elegant nails.
Hmmmm, my not very elegant hands.
Since then they’ve built a huge nail brand, famed for its brightly coloured nail polishes with fun names. OPI technicians have been helping out backstage at various fashion shows during LFW, and they take care of famous pop personalities such as Katy Perry and Alexandra Burke, who have their very own nail technicians on hand at all times, except, that is, when they are sorting out my stubby sausage hands. My nails were done by Alexandra Burke‘s *actual* nail technician, get in. She won the X Factor a few years back in case you were wondering.
Here’s a pic of my paws: the effect is really most captivating. I can’t stop looking at them!
The shatter nail polish is apparently all the rage, though in my backward way I had never heard of it and sat there transfixed as Alexandra’s right hand man painted the second coat onto my nails and it mysteriously cracked in front of my eyes: the chemicals reacting to the first coat below. After that he used a very cunning product called Drip Dry Lacquer Drying Drops, which drops on top to dry nails almost instantly. Clever, these dentist types. The shatter nail lacquer comes in black and silver to create fun effects on top of other colours.
After that I decided to get my hair blow-dried by a lovely girl called Isobel from Rush Hair salon: love that vintage dress she’s wearing. I do wish that I could make my frizzy hair look so sleek and glossy myself, but I have to admit that it’s way more relaxing to get someone else to do it for me!
It was really nice to see the new Olivia Rubin collection up close, to feel the satin silks and admire the screen prints which she does herself. I particularly liked the fine gauge knit jumpers featuring Olivia’s signature brick and speech bubble ‘prints’ and she’s also done some lovely shoes in collaboration with Dune.
Keep an eye on this one because she’s a savvy business lady, and for sweet idiosyncratic dresses and tops she’s right on track: Olivia Rubin is now stocked in 50 stores across the UK and globally.
Do the shatter polish y’all.
Olivia will be finishing off the next collection over Easter, and her OPI collaboration should be available soon. I look forward to trying out Overexposed in South Beach, which joins Suzi Loves Cowboys and Wing It! from LFW goody bags. Now I’ve just got to find time to paint my nails more often myself.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Thursday April 21st, 2011 10:51 am
irrespressibles by daria h
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011 by Toni Bowater.
Bunmi Koko was undoubtedly one of my best new discoveries of last season, troche so it was with great anticipation that I sat down for this show next to Lucy Jones – director of Fashion Textiles at the University of East London – who I recognised from the FAD awards last year. Designer Bunmi Olaye is one of her star pupils and in fact still operates out of a studio that the university provides for her. Definitely a big boon for a young designer.
Bunmi prides herself on her business acumen, which was thoroughly present and correct with the large fabric goodie bag stashed under front row seats. Inside mine was a beautifully presented cupcake (soon to be thoughtlessly squashed) as well as an incredibly thorough press pack that included a lovely set of postcards with fashion illustrations of her S/S collection, an explanatory foldout detailing Bunmi’s achievements and inspirations behind Kaleidoscopia, and then to top it all off a mini newspaper: The Bunmi Koko Times. This girl sure knows how to market herself!
Bunmi’s show began with a short movie – a great idea in theory but a bit odd in practice – involving as it did some clubby graphics and James Bond-ish silhouettes. I wasn’t really sure what it contributed to the whole. Then the show was off with a run – and when I say run I really do mean run. The models were moving quickly at most shows, but at Bunmi’s they were moving at such a lick that it was nigh on impossible to capture them through a lens.
It’s a good thing I like to capture models on the hop rather than front on like the paps. The clubby graphics – inspired by rainbows, supernovas and mirages – splashed across wide tutus, wrap dresses and clutch bags. I particularly liked the clever of use of futuristic ruching over shoulders and across breastbones.
I loved the elegant purple suit and an eye-popping orange woolly dress, which bounced down the catwalk in a spray of moth-orgasmic fluff. I wasn’t so keen on the metallic leather pieces, which looked cheap by comparison.
Despite the clever styling with diamante encrusted visors, Kaleidoscopia felt far less cohesive than her last collection and left me wondering what exactly the Bunmi aesthetic is. It was all over so quickly that I hardly had time to digest it before Bunmi herself spilled out onto the catwalk, grinning broadly and sporting a t-shirt for Fill The Cup – a fashion range that will send profits to feed hungry children across the world. The conclusion? Good work from a promising young designer, but needs refining.
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Sunday March 6th, 2011 7:12 pm
irrespressibles by daria h
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011 by Toni Bowater.
Bunmi Koko was undoubtedly one of my best new discoveries of last season, troche so it was with great anticipation that I sat down for this show next to Lucy Jones – director of Fashion Textiles at the University of East London – who I recognised from the FAD awards last year. Designer Bunmi Olaye is one of her star pupils and in fact still operates out of a studio that the university provides for her. Definitely a big boon for a young designer.
Bunmi prides herself on her business acumen, which was thoroughly present and correct with the large fabric goodie bag stashed under front row seats. Inside mine was a beautifully presented cupcake (soon to be thoughtlessly squashed) as well as an incredibly thorough press pack that included a lovely set of postcards with fashion illustrations of her S/S collection, an explanatory foldout detailing Bunmi’s achievements and inspirations behind Kaleidoscopia, and then to top it all off a mini newspaper: The Bunmi Koko Times. This girl sure knows how to market herself!
Bunmi’s show began with a short movie – a great idea in theory but a bit odd in practice – involving as it did some clubby graphics and James Bond-ish silhouettes. I wasn’t really sure what it contributed to the whole. Then the show was off with a run – and when I say run I really do mean run. The models were moving quickly at most shows, but at Bunmi’s they were moving at such a lick that it was nigh on impossible to capture them through a lens.
It’s a good thing I like to capture models on the hop rather than front on like the paps. The clubby graphics – inspired by rainbows, supernovas and mirages – splashed across wide tutus, wrap dresses and clutch bags. I particularly liked the clever of use of futuristic ruching over shoulders and across breastbones.
I loved the elegant purple suit and an eye-popping orange woolly dress, which bounced down the catwalk in a spray of moth-orgasmic fluff. I wasn’t so keen on the metallic leather pieces, which looked cheap by comparison.
Despite the clever styling with diamante encrusted visors, Kaleidoscopia felt far less cohesive than her last collection and left me wondering what exactly the Bunmi aesthetic is. It was all over so quickly that I hardly had time to digest it before Bunmi herself spilled out onto the catwalk, grinning broadly and sporting a t-shirt for Fill The Cup – a fashion range that will send profits to feed hungry children across the world. The conclusion? Good work from a promising young designer, but needs refining.
Bunmi Koko A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Sunday March 6th, 2011 7:12 pm
Masha Ma A/W 2011 by Liam McMa
Masha Ma A/W 2011 by Natsuki Otani.
Masha Ma is undoubtedly one of my very favourite designers right now so it was with utmost dismay that I encountered a major logistical error early on Sunday morning. Which required me to hot foot it back to my house in order to pick up press releases for Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration in time for the opening of Ecoluxe. In the end I managed to scoot my way into the back of the Freemasons Hall just in time to see most of the show, sick although I had to make do with the sight of my contributors happily ensconced in the front row as I craned for a view from the back. Oh the ignominy.
Hers is a self-described “architectural” way of designing, web cutting swathes of fabric to hang in flattering folds. Following her all white S/S Icebreaker debut, buy information pills for DeConMasha Ma explored elegant tailoring in pale duck egg blue, dusky rose, flinty grey and ice mint.
Masha Ma A/W 2011. Photography by Tim Adey.
Crepe, satin and organza curled into delicate scrolls on collars and hips; woollen waterfalls cascaded down the front of coats. All accessorised with the most amazing come-fuck-me pillar box red boots – over the thigh, shiny and skin tight.
Masha Ma A/W 2011 DeCon. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Eyes peeped out from below side swept fringes: sexy secretaries in tight pencil skirts. High collars were a theme, either tightly rolled polo necks or carefully pleated to bring a touch of Renaissance drama to otherwise thoroughly modern outfits.
Masha Ma A/W 2011. Photography by Tim Adey.
The show finished on a couple of beautiful black outfits, which were given that all important lift thanks to red lipstick and gloss red fingerless gloves that complemented those amazing boots. Just glorious.
That’s Naomi and Tim over there that is, taking much better photos than me. I couldn’t even see the boots. Jealous, moi? Not muchly…
I cannot tell a lie, dosage having tried in vain for several seasons to get tickets, symptoms I was super excited to finally be in attendance at a Mark Fast show. Knitwear was my first love: I spent much of teens knitting 80s tastic jumpers and despite opting to specialise in printed textile design at university I eventually started a knitwear label at the same time as Amelia’s Magazine. Unfortunately it became apparent that the magazine was going to dominate my time and energy, so now my big bags of ethically dyed rare breed wool sit languishing in my parents attic.
Knitwear has been overlooked by high fashion for a long time, but in recent years there have been encouraging signs of its resurgence – with designers such as Mark Fast, Cooperative Designs and Alice Palmer leading the way. Mark has become well known for sexy figure hugging pieces with dramatic details that he creates using specialised techniques.
This season he worked predominantly in merino wool in oatmeal, beige, shades of orange and black to create ribbed and ridged bodycon numbers fit for the most glamourous cocktail party. He also worked in leather with Canadian retailer Danier to create complementary pieces that included sexy corseted tops, wide legged trousers and buttersoft crop jackets, worn with sheer fabric and swishing straps. High necks followed a familiar trend for A/W 2011, as did the use of deep orange. One particular standout piece was a massive round shouldered ridged cardigan that called to mind a similar piece by fellow design innovator Georgia Hardinge.
Mark Fast A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Dresses and coats with plush shoulder bolsters worked especially well, as did the plump trim on a mini dress worn with a giant fluffy hat and platforms. Also of note was a swirling maxi skirted number with covered arms that only left the shoulders sexily bare. Boots were knee high and louche; accessories included big bangles and spiky neckpieces.
Mark Fast A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
The show ended on a showpiece backless leather hooded coat, trailing a huge train behind like a sweeping Hollywood baddie. Once more Mark Fast chose normal sized women to model his collection with the use of several “plus size” models. These lush beauties only served to emphasise the extreme skinniness of the few extremely bony girls included in the show. And the joy of it? These dresses arguably worked way better on the models of more normal size.
Mark Fast A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
This is one happy bunny to have at last seen a Mark Fast show.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Sunday March 13th, 2011 4:53 pm
190809_theunthanks[1]thumb
Illustration by Rob Fuzzard
It was fitting that they transformed their faces to serious and focused, adiposity when the first notes were hit. They were deep in the hills of the North of England, visit this singing of shutting the coal door, not in a dark, hot building by the Avon River. Rachel is pregnant. They are wearing dresses that look like fresh versions of the past. And their hair is worn long and embracing of its natural waves and kinks. The Unthanks are wholesome and true. True to their families, friends, dear home and folk music. Their Northern roots infiltrate everything from the lilt of the pronunciation of lyrics; ‘luvley’, to the songs they choose to sing. My image is of them as land girls, wearing cream wooly jumpers, dresses and wellington boots. In the evening they sit around the fire of a single glazed, rambling cottage, singing from right within. Where the truth lies.
And indeed, in their Northumberland home, the Unthank family would partake in group singing. Their father George, is part of a folk group called The Keelers that specialised in robust sea shanties of the north-east, their mother is a stalwart of local choirs, and they were brought up at festivals and folk clubs. Rachel, the older of the two sisters, who looks like peace personified said: “This is amazing, a privilege and an honour, to be up here singing like this. Of course. But there something about singing with lots of people, that’s just… good for the soul.”
Rachel’s speaking voice is high, full of character, vibrancy and northern accent. Her eyes close as she sings and sways, stroking her baby bump to the instrumental breaks. She loves music and singing for its remedial, loving, relaxing, spiritual and bringing together prowess. As does Becky, her sister. Recently engaged we are told, she is funny, lower toned in voice and smoother. More of the honey to Rachel’s jam. Homemade and paired with the band (butter and bread… this metaphor accidentally went further than anticipated), they are your next level folk. Playing the piano, violin, fiddle, viola, cello, double bass, drums, guitar and ukulele, they are all stunning, and together make for a polished and encompassing sound. The beauty and love of the music they’re all creating, their sole focus. Not lumberjack shirts and shiny belt buckles.
The girls themselves don’t hold an ounce of arrogance, and are both entirely likeable, modest and genuine in their performance and stage presence. The confidence that’s so rosy, and tangible seems to be from deep within, from a stable and unmoving place.
But they could be all over themselves. With a Mercury Award Nomination in 2008, being named as one of Best Albums of The Decade in Uncut and The Observer for The Bairns (out on EMI), as well as BBC Folk Awards and many others. Why didn’t I know of them before? Or my evening’s accomplice. As the evening went on, I found myself increasingly mesmerised and indadvertedly swaying in a progressive daze.
They sing of drunks, pubs, Newcastle Brown Ale, men, sweat, bosoms, daily life and poverty – STORIES of England of the North, the land, the people, the past. With the strings behind them, they sing everything tenderly, slowly and with an enormous wedge of sadness. But it’s hard to feel sadness with them, it’s more that they disarm you and fill you with beautiful sounds and truths. Things aren’t and never have been idyllic for everyone, forever.
Between tracks they chat leisurely about where they found their songs, and banter with the piano player, and husband of Rachel, Adrian McNally. Rachel talks of the need we have now for music that strikes chord and brings people together. Such as the North East mining songs, full of trouble, strife and heartbreak. There is a comradery in folk music, and a wholesome edge that is inescapable. It’s English summers, rolling hills and blustery mountain tops. It’s reality and being unafraid of it. It’s the soundtrack to what we discover when we experience something that flicks the deep, dark switch. One weekend, after trundling out of our home and switching the telly off, a walk by the ocean, some awful news, a baby’s birth, right then and there we see and feel light and free. We vow to repeat our actions again asap; “we should do that again darling.”, or never take things for granted, because we’ve realised what life is about. They know, The Unthanks. They get it.
One song featured the two girls singing unaccompanied, Rachel giving ‘advice’ to Becky on marriage. “You’d better be a maid all the days of your life, Better me a maid as a poor man’s wife.” They laughed about it, and smiled broadly to each other and then out to the audience. Another track; The Gallowgate Lad, is about a girl crying alone in Newcastle. Someone asks her; ‘What’s wrong?’ A mistake, as it can be. The piano dancing notes, paired with the story telling Becky, alone on stage, is a tremendous mix, full of drama, reviving the angst of past encounters. A number of other songs also featured the use of mighty clog dancing by Becky. Whilst Rachel sat on a chair for a mini rest, Becky tapped and stomped on stage. This was delightful and served to enhance my own desire to own clogs. Excellent skill! They also treated us to a song from the soundtrack of archive footage of Newcastle, they had performed at the Tyneside Cinema recently. They sang of the docks, the ale and the banter in their hauntingly joined voices.
Becky and Rachel put on a superb show, and yet it didn’t even feel like a *SHOW*, it felt as if we were in their living room, by the fire, with knitted cream jumpers and hot toddies, all singing together. It was warming to the heart and soul. Incidentally The Unthanks run weekends of singing in Northumberland, so perhaps check them out if you want some of your own sing song jubilation. For now check out this video. You can buy all their albums now; The Bairns and Here’s The Tender Coming are both out on EMI, and Last, on Rabble Rouser.
It was fitting that they transformed their faces to serious and focused, more about when the first notes were hit. They were deep in the hills of the North of England, pharmacy singing of shutting the coal door, not in a dark, hot building by the Avon River. Rachel is pregnant. They are wearing dresses that look like fresh versions of the past. And their hair is worn long and embracing of its natural waves and kinks. The Unthanks are wholesome and true. True to their families, friends, dear home and folk music. Their Northern roots infiltrate everything from the lilt of the pronunciation of lyrics; ‘luvley’, to the songs they choose to sing. My image is of them as land girls, wearing cream wooly jumpers, dresses and wellington boots. In the evening they sit around the fire of a single glazed, rambling cottage, singing from right within. Where the truth lies.
And indeed, in their Northumberland home, the Unthank family would partake in group singing. Their father George, is part of a folk group called The Keelers that specialised in robust sea shanties of the north-east, their mother is a stalwart of local choirs, and they were brought up at festivals and folk clubs. Rachel, the older of the two sisters, who looks like peace personified said: “This is amazing, a privilege and an honour, to be up here singing like this. Of course. But there something about singing with lots of people, that’s just… good for the soul.”
Rachel’s speaking voice is high, full of character, vibrancy and northern accent. Her eyes close as she sings and sways, stroking her baby bump to the instrumental breaks. She loves music and singing for its remedial, loving, relaxing, spiritual and bringing together prowess. As does Becky, her sister. Recently engaged we are told, she is funny, lower toned in voice and smoother. More of the honey to Rachel’s jam. Homemade and paired with the band (butter and bread… this metaphor accidentally went further than anticipated), they are your next level folk. Playing the piano, violin, fiddle, viola, cello, double bass, drums, guitar and ukulele, they are all stunning, and together make for a polished and encompassing sound. The beauty and love of the music they’re all creating, their sole focus. Not lumberjack shirts and shiny belt buckles.
The girls themselves don’t hold an ounce of arrogance, and are both entirely likeable, modest and genuine in their performance and stage presence. The confidence that’s so rosy, and tangible seems to be from deep within, from a stable and unmoving place.
But they could be all over themselves. With a Mercury Award Nomination in 2008, being named as one of Best Albums of The Decade in Uncut and The Observer for The Bairns (out on EMI), as well as BBC Folk Awards and many others. Why didn’t I know of them before? Or my evening’s accomplice. As the evening went on, I found myself increasingly mesmerised and indadvertedly swaying in a progressive daze.
They sing of drunks, pubs, Newcastle Brown Ale, men, sweat, bosoms, daily life and poverty – STORIES of England of the North, the land, the people, the past. With the strings behind them, they sing everything tenderly, slowly and with an enormous wedge of sadness. But it’s hard to feel sadness with them, it’s more that they disarm you and fill you with beautiful sounds and truths. Things aren’t and never have been idyllic for everyone, forever.
Between tracks they chat leisurely about where they found their songs, and banter with the piano player, and husband of Rachel, Adrian McNally. Rachel talks of the need we have now for music that strikes chord and brings people together. Such as the North East mining songs, full of trouble, strife and heartbreak. There is a comradery in folk music, and a wholesome edge that is inescapable. It’s English summers, rolling hills and blustery mountain tops. It’s reality and being unafraid of it. It’s the soundtrack to what we discover when we experience something that flicks the deep, dark switch. One weekend, after trundling out of our home and switching the telly off, a walk by the ocean, some awful news, a baby’s birth, right then and there we see and feel light and free. We vow to repeat our actions again asap; “we should do that again darling.”, or never take things for granted, because we’ve realised what life is about. They know, The Unthanks. They get it.
One song featured the two girls singing unaccompanied, Rachel giving ‘advice’ to Becky on marriage. “You’d better be a maid all the days of your life, Better me a maid as a poor man’s wife.” They laughed about it, and smiled broadly to each other and then out to the audience. Another track; The Gallowgate Lad, is about a girl crying alone in Newcastle. Someone asks her; ‘What’s wrong?’ A mistake, as it can be. The piano dancing notes, paired with the story telling Becky, alone on stage, is a tremendous mix, full of drama, reviving the angst of past encounters. A number of other songs also featured the use of mighty clog dancing by Becky. Whilst Rachel sat on a chair for a mini rest, Becky tapped and stomped on stage. This was delightful and served to enhance my own desire to own clogs. Excellent skill! They also treated us to a song from the soundtrack of archive footage of Newcastle, they had performed at the Tyneside Cinema recently. They sang of the docks, the ale and the banter in their hauntingly joined voices.
Becky and Rachel put on a superb show, and yet it didn’t even feel like a *SHOW*, it felt as if we were in their living room, by the fire, with knitted cream jumpers and hot toddies, all singing together. It was warming to the heart and soul. Incidentally The Unthanks run weekends of singing in Northumberland, so perhaps check them out if you want some of your own sing song jubilation. For now check out this video. You can buy all their albums now; The Bairns and Here’s The Tender Coming are both out on EMI, and Last, on Rabble Rouser.
Rachel is pregnant. They are wearing dresses that look like fresh versions of the past. And their hair is worn long and embracing of its natural waves and kinks. The Unthanks are wholesome and true. True to their families, advice friends, cialis 40mg dear home and folk music. Their Northern roots infiltrate everything from the lilt of the pronunciation of lyrics; ‘luvley’, to the songs they choose to sing. My image is of them as land girls, wearing cream wooly jumpers, dresses and wellington boots. In the evening they sit around the fire of a single glazed, rambling cottage, singing from right within. Where the truth lies.
And indeed, growing up in their Northumberland home, the Unthank family would partake in group singing. Their father George, is part of a folk group called The Keelers that specialised in robust sea shanties of the north-east, their mother is a stalwart of local choirs, and they were brought up at festivals and folk clubs. Rachel, the older of the two sisters, who looks like peace personified said: “This is amazing, a privilege and an honour, to be up here singing like this. Of course. But there something about singing with lots of people, that’s just… good for the soul.”
Rachel’s speaking voice is high, full of character, vibrancy and northern accent. Her eyes close as she sings and sways, stroking her baby bump to the instrumental breaks. She loves music and singing for its remedial, loving, relaxing, spiritual and bringing together prowess. As does Becky, her sister. Recently engaged we are told, she is funny, lower toned in voice and smoother. More of the honey to Rachel’s jam. Homemade and paired with the band (butter and bread… this metaphor accidentally went further than anticipated), they are your next level folk. Playing the piano, violin, fiddle, viola, cello, double bass, drums, guitar and ukulele, they are all stunning, and together make for a polished and encompassing sound. The beauty and love of the music they’re all creating, their sole focus. Not lumberjack shirts and shiny belt buckles.
The girls themselves don’t hold an ounce of arrogance, and are both entirely likeable, modest and genuine in their performance and stage presence. The confidence that’s so rosy, and tangible seems to be from deep within, from a stable and unmoving place.
But they could be all over themselves. With a Mercury Award Nomination in 2008, being named as one of Best Albums of The Decade in Uncut and The Observer for The Bairns (out on EMI), as well as BBC Folk Awards and many others. Why didn’t I know of them before? Or my evening’s accomplice. As the evening went on, I found myself increasingly mesmerised and indadvertedly swaying in a progressive daze.
They sing of drunks, pubs, Newcastle Brown Ale, men, sweat, bosoms, daily life and poverty – STORIES of England of the North, the land, the people, the past. With the strings behind them, they sing everything tenderly, slowly and with an enormous wedge of sadness. But it’s hard to feel sadness with them, it’s more that they disarm you and fill you with beautiful sounds and truths. Things aren’t and never have been idyllic for everyone, forever.
Between tracks they chat leisurely about where they found their songs, and banter with the piano player, and husband of Rachel, Adrian McNally. Rachel talks of the need we have now for music that strikes chord and brings people together. Such as the North East mining songs, full of trouble, strife and heartbreak. There is a comradery in folk music, and a wholesome edge that is inescapable. It’s English summers, rolling hills and blustery mountain tops. It’s reality and being unafraid of it. It’s the soundtrack to what we discover when we experience something that flicks the deep, dark switch. One weekend, after trundling out of our home and switching the telly off, a walk by the ocean, some awful news, a baby’s birth, right then and there we see and feel light and free. We vow to repeat our actions again asap; “we should do that again darling.”, or never take things for granted, because we’ve realised what life is about. They know, The Unthanks. They get it.
One song featured the two girls singing unaccompanied, Rachel giving ‘advice’ to Becky on marriage. “You’d better be a maid all the days of your life, Better me a maid as a poor man’s wife.” They laughed about it, and smiled broadly to each other and then out to the audience. Another track; The Gallowgate Lad, is about a girl crying alone in Newcastle. Someone asks her; ‘What’s wrong?’ A mistake, as it can be. The piano dancing notes, paired with the story telling Becky, alone on stage, is a tremendous mix, full of drama, reviving the angst of past encounters. A number of other songs also featured the use of mighty clog dancing by Becky. Whilst Rachel sat on a chair for a mini rest, Becky tapped and stomped on stage. This was delightful and served to enhance my own desire to own clogs. Excellent skill! They also treated us to a song from the soundtrack of archive footage of Newcastle, they had performed at the Tyneside Cinema recently. They sang of the docks, the ale and the banter in their hauntingly joined voices.
Becky and Rachel put on a superb show, and yet it didn’t even feel like a *SHOW*, it felt as if we were in their living room, by the fire, with knitted cream jumpers and hot toddies, all singing together. It was warming to the heart and soul. Incidentally The Unthanks run weekends of singing in Northumberland, so perhaps check them out if you want some of your own sing song jubilation. For now check out this video. You can buy all their albums now; The Bairns and Here’s The Tender Coming are both out on EMI, and Last, on Rabble Rouser.
Rachel is pregnant. They are wearing dresses that look like fresh versions of the past. And their hair is worn long and embracing of its natural waves and kinks. The Unthanks are wholesome and true. True to their families, nurse friends, what is ed dear home and folk music. Their Northern roots infiltrate everything from the lilt of the pronunciation of lyrics; ‘luvley’, pill to the songs they choose to sing. My image is of them as land girls, wearing cream wooly jumpers, dresses and wellington boots. In the evening they sit around the fire of a single glazed, rambling cottage, singing from right within. Where the truth lies.
And indeed, growing up in their Northumberland home, the Unthank family would partake in group singing. Their father George, is part of a folk group called The Keelers that specialised in sea shanties of the north-east, their mother is a member of local choirs, and they always attended festivals and folk clubs. Rachel, the older of the two sisters, who looks like peace personified said: “This is amazing, a privilege and an honour, to be up here singing like this. Of course. But there something about singing with lots of people, that’s just… good for the soul.”
Rachel’s speaking voice is high, full of character, vibrancy and northern accent. Her eyes close as she sings and sways, stroking her baby bump to the instrumental breaks. She loves music and singing for its remedial, loving, relaxing, spiritual and bringing together prowess. As does Becky, her sister. Recently engaged we are told, she is funny, lower toned in voice and smoother. More of the honey to Rachel’s jam. Homemade and paired with the band (butter and bread… this metaphor accidentally went further than anticipated), they are your next level folk. Playing the piano, violin, fiddle, viola, cello, double bass, drums, guitar and ukulele, they are all stunning, and together make for a polished and encompassing sound. The beauty and love of the music they’re all creating, their sole focus. Not lumberjack shirts and shiny belt buckles.
The girls themselves don’t hold an ounce of arrogance, and are both entirely likeable, modest and genuine in their performance and stage presence. The confidence that’s so rosy, and tangible seems to be from deep within, from a stable and unmoving place.
But they could be all over themselves. With a Mercury Award Nomination in 2008, being named as one of Best Albums of The Decade in Uncut and The Observer for The Bairns (out on EMI), as well as BBC Folk Awards and many others. Why didn’t I know of them before? Or my evening’s accomplice. As the evening went on, I found myself increasingly mesmerised and indadvertedly swaying in a progressive daze.
They sing of drunks, pubs, Newcastle Brown Ale, men, sweat, bosoms, daily life and poverty – STORIES of England of the North, the land, the people, the past. With the strings behind them, they sing everything tenderly, slowly and with an enormous wedge of sadness. But it’s hard to feel sadness with them, it’s more that they disarm you and fill you with beautiful sounds and truths. Things aren’t and never have been idyllic for everyone, forever.
Between tracks they chat leisurely about where they found their songs, and banter with the piano player, and husband of Rachel, Adrian McNally. Rachel talks of the need we have now for music that strikes chord and brings people together. Such as the North East mining songs, full of trouble, strife and heartbreak. There is a comradery in folk music, and a wholesome edge that is inescapable. It’s English summers, rolling hills and blustery mountain tops. It’s reality and being unafraid of it. It’s the soundtrack to what we discover when we experience something that flicks the deep, dark switch. One weekend, after trundling out of our home and switching the telly off, a walk by the ocean, some awful news, a baby’s birth, right then and there we see and feel light and free. We vow to repeat our actions again asap; “we should do that again darling.”, or never take things for granted, because we’ve realised what life is about. They know, The Unthanks. They get it.
One song featured the two girls singing unaccompanied, Rachel giving ‘advice’ to Becky on marriage. “You’d better be a maid all the days of your life, Better me a maid as a poor man’s wife.” They laughed about it, and smiled broadly to each other and then out to the audience. Another track; The Gallowgate Lad, is about a girl crying alone in Newcastle. Someone asks her; ‘What’s wrong?’ A mistake, as it can be. The piano dancing notes, paired with the story telling Becky, alone on stage, is a tremendous mix, full of drama, reviving the angst of past encounters. A number of other songs also featured the use of mighty clog dancing by Becky. Whilst Rachel sat on a chair for a mini rest, Becky tapped and stomped on stage. This was delightful and served to enhance my own desire to own clogs. Excellent skill! They also treated us to a song from the soundtrack of archive footage of Newcastle, they had performed at the Tyneside Cinema recently. They sang of the docks, the ale and the banter in their hauntingly joined voices.
Becky and Rachel put on a superb show, and yet it didn’t even feel like a *SHOW*, it felt as if we were in their living room, by the fire, with knitted cream jumpers and hot toddies, all singing together. It was warming to the heart and soul. Incidentally The Unthanks run weekends of singing in Northumberland, so perhaps check them out if you want some of your own sing song jubilation. For now check out this video. You can buy all their albums now; The Bairns and Here’s The Tender Coming are both out on EMI, and Last, on Rabble Rouser.
They are wearing dresses that look like fresh versions of the past. And their hair is worn long and embracing of its natural waves and kinks. Rachel is pregnant and vibrant. The Unthanks are wholesome and true. True to their families, here friends, dear home and folk music. Their Northern roots infiltrate everything from the lilt of the pronunciation of lyrics; ‘luvley’, to the songs they choose to sing. My image is of them as land girls, wearing cream wooly jumpers, dresses and wellington boots. In the evening they sit around the fire of a single glazed, rambling cottage, singing from right within. Where the truth lies.
And indeed, growing up in their Northumberland home, the Unthank family would partake in group singing. Their father George, is part of a folk group called The Keelers that specialised in sea shanties of the north-east, their mother is a member of local choirs, and they always attended festivals and folk clubs. Rachel, the older of the two sisters, who looks like peace personified said: “This is amazing, a privilege and an honour, to be up here singing like this. Of course. But there something about singing with lots of people, that’s just… good for the soul.”
Rachel’s speaking voice is high, full of character, vibrancy and northern accent. Her eyes close as she sings and sways, stroking her baby bump to the instrumental breaks. She loves music and singing for its remedial, loving, relaxing, spiritual and bringing together prowess. As does Becky, her sister. Recently engaged we are told, she is funny, lower toned in voice and smoother. More of the honey to Rachel’s jam. Homemade and paired with the band (butter and bread… this metaphor accidentally went further than anticipated), they are your next level folk. Playing the piano, violin, fiddle, viola, cello, double bass, drums, guitar and ukulele, they are all stunning, and together make for a polished and encompassing sound. The beauty and love of the music they’re all creating, their sole focus. Not lumberjack shirts and shiny belt buckles.
The girls themselves don’t hold an ounce of arrogance, and are both entirely likeable, modest and genuine in their performance and stage presence. The confidence that’s so rosy, and tangible seems to be from deep within, from a stable and unmoving place.
But they could be all over themselves. With a Mercury Award Nomination in 2008, being named as one of Best Albums of The Decade in Uncut and The Observer for The Bairns (out on EMI), as well as BBC Folk Awards and many others. Why didn’t I know of them before? Or my evening’s accomplice. As the evening went on, I found myself increasingly mesmerised and indadvertedly swaying in a progressive daze.
They sing of drunks, pubs, Newcastle Brown Ale, men, sweat, bosoms, daily life and poverty – STORIES of England of the North, the land, the people, the past. With the strings behind them, they sing everything tenderly, slowly and with an enormous wedge of sadness. But it’s hard to feel sadness with them, it’s more that they disarm you and fill you with beautiful sounds and truths. Things aren’t and never have been idyllic for everyone, forever.
Between tracks they chat leisurely about where they found their songs, and banter with the piano player, and husband of Rachel, Adrian McNally. Rachel talks of the need we have now for music that strikes chord and brings people together. Such as the North East mining songs, full of trouble, strife and heartbreak. There is a comradery in folk music, and a wholesome edge that is inescapable. It’s English summers, rolling hills and blustery mountain tops. It’s reality and being unafraid of it. It’s the soundtrack to what we discover when we experience something that flicks the deep, dark switch. One weekend, after trundling out of our home and switching the telly off, a walk by the ocean, some awful news, a baby’s birth, right then and there we see and feel light and free. We vow to repeat our actions again asap; “we should do that again darling.”, or never take things for granted, because we’ve realised what life is about. They know, The Unthanks. They get it.
One song featured the two girls singing unaccompanied, Rachel giving ‘advice’ to Becky on marriage. “You’d better be a maid all the days of your life, Better me a maid as a poor man’s wife.” They laughed about it, and smiled broadly to each other and then out to the audience. Another track; The Gallowgate Lad, is about a girl crying alone in Newcastle. Someone asks her; ‘What’s wrong?’ A mistake, as it can be. The piano dancing notes, paired with the story telling Becky, alone on stage, is a tremendous mix, full of drama, reviving the angst of past encounters. A number of other songs also featured the use of mighty clog dancing by Becky. Whilst Rachel sat on a chair for a mini rest, Becky tapped and stomped on stage. This was delightful and served to enhance my own desire to own clogs. Excellent skill! They also treated us to a song from the soundtrack of archive footage of Newcastle, they had performed at the Tyneside Cinema recently. They sang of the docks, the ale and the banter in their hauntingly joined voices.
Becky and Rachel put on a superb show, and yet it didn’t even feel like a *SHOW*, it felt as if we were in their living room, by the fire, with knitted cream jumpers and hot toddies, all singing together. It was warming to the heart and soul. Incidentally The Unthanks run weekends of singing in Northumberland, so perhaps check them out if you want some of your own sing song jubilation. For now check out this video. You can buy all their albums now; The Bairns and Here’s The Tender Coming are both out on EMI, and Last, on Rabble Rouser.
I love Jesca Hoop‘s new song City Bird and the accompanying video so much so that I decided to get in touch with both Jesca and Elia Petridis, viagra 60mg the director of her recent videos, mind to find out what makes them tick. Elia Petridis runs boutique production company Filmatics in Los Angeles, California. After making several award winning shorts and music videos he is about to start shooting his first full length feature The Man Who Shook The Hand Of Vicente Fernandez. I think his incredibly detailed answers throw an intriguing light on what goes into the creation of a very considered and beautiful music video.
When did you start working with director Elia Petridis?
Jesca: Elia is an old friend. We met in Los Angeles at one of my shows. He would say that he forced me to be his friend, which is kind of true though I would say that he used his clever imagination to lure me in. I’m glad that he did. The Kingdom was our first video adventure together.
Elia: A producer I’m working closely with these days said to me recently that humans are “meaning making machines” (a soundbite from some career seminar) but that phrase really resonated with me. I’m infatuated with screenwriting and personal mythologies, sometimes to the detriment of my own mental health. I grew up in Dubai for 18 years before moving to LA for film school – although Dubai had a lot of its own magic it didn’t have a music scene to speak of so I’m always a little astonished by the talent I find in LA. When I saw Jesca perform live I really felt her music was very special and otherworldly, and tried to do my best to see if, as human planets, we could potentially orbit each other and become friends.
I would venture to say that the first time I saw Jesca Hoop live was one of the most astonishing musical moments I have ever witnessed. It was the night before Halloween and she came out in a marionette outfit, complete with rosy cheeks, and stood motionless while her back up players wound her up to life. For a visualist like me, a storyteller, it really had an impact. The whole endeavour of courting a friendship with her was kind of a lark for me because I honestly thought she had better things to do. It was just a matter of pushing the boundary between fan and friend and seeing how much I could get away with. Suddenly, unexpectedly, as with most of life’s wonder, we had some mileage behind us and had transformed into friends. I will tell you that the first *official* conversation, the ice breaker, was when she was writing Tulip – from the Hunting my Dress album – and I was writing a screenplay dealing with Tulip Fever in Holland so I leant her my reference material. I knew I had two opportunities to wiggle my way in there – one to give her the book, and one to get it back!
The Hunting My Dress album cover.
Where was City Bird shot and where did the inspiration come from?
Jesca: It was shot in a miniature haunted house in downtown LA. We both wanted it to be a ghost story and Elia was the one to bring the children’s narrative into it.
Elia: FALSE! The video was shot in a garage in Riverside, Ca. The whole thing was fractal – an infinite amount of information in a finite space, as the garage is attached to an 18th century ‘Painted Lady’ Victorian house owned by my fiance. So in essence, it was shot in a miniature dollhouse inside a bigger dollhouse which made the shoot utterly magic. I think what Jesca is communicating is that the story takes place in a miniature dollhouse in downtown LA. The whole thing was lit using candles and christmas lights.
Where did the idea for an animated video come from?
Jesca: It came out of limitation really. We had very very little money for this video so we just mused about what we could do with what time and money we did have. I set a pretty hard task considering the resources available and I am delighted with what Elia and his team came through with.
Elia: To me, the track is seance folk. That’s the sonic iconography that City Bird evokes – a ghostly seance. When it comes to music and music videos I am not a literal thinker so although my mind knows the song is about the fright and sadness associated with homelessness that’s not what my heart feels when I hear the song, and it’s not what the dream theatre in my mind projects over it either. But here Jesca’s mastery shines through, because the sonic landscape, right down to the very physical shape her mouth is making around the lyric is just as important as what she’s trying to say; the two are organically woven together. The magic of Jesca’s music lies in the alchemy that exists between form and content. All my artistic heroes do this, from Chabon, to Spielberg; they use genre to sugar coat the pill. So here she uses the disguise of seance music to coat the literal message of homelessness she’s trying to communicate.
Now, narrative is something I am always running away from when directing a music video. Whenever I read a music video treatment from some kid that went to film school it makes me cringe and I think the best music videos come from documentary filmmakers who get a chance to put forward a psychology of form rather than one of narrative. But, having said that, my instincts on City Bird were narrative, perhaps because it’s a kind of lilting waltz so it felt right to have a narrative to pull you through it. So, for the treatment, I sat down and wrote an entire ghost story from scratch, in the style of Poe or Hawthorne. I even wrote nursery rhymes about the ghost, because ghost stories are mostly aural traditions.
On The Kingdom video Jesca had a ton of input because I quickly realised that it would only reach its full potential if I pretended to be a paint brush and let her grab hold of the crew through me and paint. Once I took my ego out of the equation I realised there was something special there I was meant to service, and honestly, that’s the best method of working with an artist on a music video, that’s what you really cross your fingers for, isn’t it? You can see a little more of that process on the behind-the-scenes doc of the kingdom here:
But for City Bird Jesca was in Manchester and we were in LA shooting. Her schedule was tight, and I was really flattered that she had enough faith in me to let me just go and shoot because I know how much she loves her songs and how much faith it took for her to let go a little. I had originally submitted an entirely different treatment to her and had kind of resigned myself to the fact I wasn’t going to do it, which was cool enough for me because god only knows how many talented people Jesca comes across in her travels. Surely, I thought, she can find people in the UK to make amazing videos, and surely, as an artist, she wants to go and do cool stuff with other cool people. So I thought I would just give it a shot. I submitted this treatment about metaphorical ghosts, which dealt with mis-en-scene of places that had just been left and abandoned – an unmade bed, plates on a table after dinner, a toilet still running, stuff like that, where humans had vacated the frame only seconds ago and you’d just missed them – kind of pretentious honestly. Then I came across my fiancée’s childhood dollhouse and started taking video and snapping pictures and all of a sudden this whole new idea came to mind of the dollhouse and miniatures and stop motion and ghosts. I sent the examples to Jesca and she totally fell for it!
The City Bird dollhouse.
Ghost stories are tricky because they are incredibly emotional stories surrounded in gothic imagery. Ghost stories like The Others, The Orphanage, The Sixth Sense, are rite of passage stories – they’re about letting go. About the dead letting go of the living and the living letting go of the dead. They’re NOT about the living being punished for a sin like horror movies, but about forgiveness of that sin from all parties, the relinquishing of unfinished business. And I wanted to nail that, I really did. In City Bird it is the boy who is at the centre of the story and has the rite of passage: the ghost is a sort of Frankenstein or Edward Scissorhands character.
The boy has nightmares and makes up ghastly stories that paint the ghost as a demon, then something happens to the boy on his bike and he dies. We get those silent movie inter-titles: his tower (the city) is turned to a tomb. Shadows loom over his white coffin and he becomes a ghost, set into the underworld where he is refused and becomes a refugee with nowhere to go. It’s scary out there for a little boy so he returns to the ghost’s house and we realise that’s her purpose – she is a host for waywardly spirits like the dead boy. But he has been so scared of her, will he change? Can he let go of his fear of her? Can he muster up the courage to enter as she beckons him in? The song ends unresolved sonically so I wanted to leave the audience there just as the music does. The theme is that of judging a book by its cover and misunderstanding something: just as we pass the homeless on the street and pretend they are invisible like ghosts when they all have a real inner life. Can we let go of our prejudices and see beyond the stereotypes to see that the issues that made them homeless are ones that could very well come to prey on and haunt us at any time? That’s kind of the metaphor I was trying to get at.
The City Bird ghost.
Who made the puppets and how long did the video take to make?
Jesca: I’m not quite sure actually… I should ask.
Elia: Everyone who was involved in making the City Bird video knew there was a finite time of ten days in which to create this beautiful, creative thing so necessity was to be the mother of invention due to the time constraints, and everyone really fed on that and brought their best to the project. My fiancee, Maranatha Hay, is an Emmy award winning documentary filmmaker who is piped into the most creative, kind, and daring community of filmmakers and her best friend Natalie Apodaca is an artist with experience in installations. I showed her Metropolis and told her we were going to build a monotone city from cardboard and she just went for it. Cosmin Cosma was my left hand man who insisted we use the Dragon Stop Motion software, which honestly was the main reason we were able to get the shots we needed in the time we had.
The crew never lost faith in my direction, even when I had no idea how we would do it just ten minutes before the shoot. In the opening shot of the video there is a city cardboard diorama, the dollhouse, the puppet of the ghost AND the moon projected over the city! All those elements came into play because we just broke down the shot we had in mind element by element: that’s real filmmaking in a pure form. 99% of this video was done IN-CAMERA, like The Lumière Brothers! Then it was given that incredible aged look by Dan Geis, our after effects genius.
I can tell you how the puppets were made, but I urge you to remember that cinema is like a magic trick. The home made feel is part of the fun of the viewing experience, especially the joy in realising that things like hair are actually twine. The doll’s arms are made of tiny painted tree branches, her spine is metal wire and her dress is made of muslin. Her face is tracing paper and is removable so that we could change her expressions from shot to shot. The part where the fork floats across the table had to be done with tweezers! (nudged lovingly one frame at a time by Maranatha)
The house was a nightmare. It is three feet tall and it took us 3 days to put it together from a flat box. We painted every part, so we had to know what the end product would look like before we even started. Luckily an architect friend, Dannon Rampton, showed up just to check out what was going on and got so enamoured with the dolls house that he ended up putting it together which is just as well since Natalie and I were clueless as to how we were going to do it. We painted it and then we had to DILAPIDATE IT so it looked old and haunted! We scrubbed it with metal brush, we broke its steeple and we stuffed miniature moss in all its crevices so that the ghost story would feel real and lived in.
My motto is: make movies that can only be movies! Make movies that need that final step of the medium to fully realise the vision, because it’s such an expensive, time consuming endeavour that the content had better deserve and earn the medium. If it can be a song, a book, a play, let it be that. But film, film is reserved for the special stories that need the seven arts to make them whole. SO don’t give away our secrets if you don’t have to.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Tuesday March 22nd, 2011 9:23 pm
It was never a good idea to make an effort to see a support band without first checking up on them. This I really should know after many years of gig going. But sometimes you just don’t learn, help you know? So it was that I found myself facing the most excruciating half naked squall in the upstairs venue at The Lexington in Islington. I had rather presumed that as the support band for the Jeniferever Silesia album launch These Monsters might echo their soporific post rock nuances, prescription but their particular brand of ‘Regressive Rock’ could not have been more different. So I removed myself from the noise and waited in the downstairs pub until it was time to return for Jeniferever.
I first profiled Jeniferever in Amelia’s Magazine many years ago, and I remember well the band asking me if I knew of anywhere for them to stay as they set off on a tour of UK cities, an anecdote which demonstrates well their tenacious nature. They are now onto their third album, Silesia, which was recorded in the wake of the death of singer Kristofer Jönson’s father, and was named for the former name of Berlin’s Ostbahnhof because he was nearby when he learnt of the news.
From the moment it opens with the deeply reverberating echoes of Silesia it’s clear that we are on familiar territory – hypnotic vocals wrapped around a simple but deeply engaging tune. The following tune Waifs and Strays feels like a protracted yearning, but The Beat of Our Own Blood moves the familiar Jeniferever sound onto an altogether different level, the curling melody a sure fire contender for mainstream radio play where even the lyrics “goodbye to bright spotlights” are discernible.
A Drink to Remember starts with the simple pickings of a guitar but nearly seven minutes later finishes with an incredible wall of sound. Deception Pass is frantic, all shadowy reflections as Kristofer traverses “the darkest hours of hope”. By Dover there is a lighter feel, a sense of climbing out of troubles… moving forward with the help of friends. The album finishes on the slightly more pensive and questioning sound of Hearths.
Jeniferever at The Lexington, all photography by Amelia Gregory.
For their album launch Jeniferever peppered new songs with a smattering of older goodies, each member effortlessly swapping between instruments. Guitarist Martin Sandström swung his asymmetric blonde hair elegantly against the beautiful ruby red backglow as I drifted off to Jeniferever land, the emotions reverberating across the floor and up through my legs.
Guitarist Martin Sandström.
Jeniferever have always done it their way, and Silesia is no exception: it’s a must have album for anyone who loves the otherworldly end of the musical spectrum.