The last time I saw Final Fantasy was in the tiny Spitz venue. Tonight he is playing to full capacity at the Scala; word has clearly spread and expectations are high. I am here on my own with only a monster coldsore for company. Prior to the gig I sit down at a table opposite a morose and unenthusiastic man in his mid-30s (that point where the unfulfilled of the gender start to become manically desperate) who is nevertheless keen to talk to me – his profession changes from writer on the blag to “actually I work at an internet company and I am a frustrated musician” at the drop of my job description. Not so worth trying to impress me, purchasebuy eh?! I persuade him that Canadian impresario Owen, decease the man who is Final Fantasy, will be well worth watching. Post-set I am vindicated, but Mr. Morose is nowhere to be seen.
Owen takes to the stage with his inimitable banter in full flow, and proceeds to play his entire set on his lonesome, with just his trusted viola, a keyboard, and some looping mechanism (that I can’t hope to understand) for company. Oh, and a lovely young lady, who stands with her back to the crowd in front of an old fashioned projector that she proceeds to masterfully manipulate. Final Fantasy‘s music has been set to acetate drama, and the result is mesmerizing, even if I have to struggle to see the events unfold through the lighting rig that obscures my view on the top balcony.
Final Fantasy is on a one-man misson to coax as many sounds as he can possibly can from a viola, and in his looping hands this one instrument becomes a full orchestra, and the crowd loves it. There is even a lady at the front of the audience whose frantically waving hands can’t decide whether they are vogueing or conducting throughout the entire set. “Has anyone got any questions?” he asks at one point. “Any constructive criticism?” “No, I don’t normally do poppers!” he replies to the one query he gets. “Lesson learned, never talk to the audience!” Even when things go slightly pear-shaped with the looping business, which they inevitably do, he carries on in such a postive manner that no one minds. As the climax is reached and the star-crossed silhouette of lovers finally meet on the projection screen, Owen lifts his miniature partner into the air and they both stumble off stage. There will be a wave of enquiries into viola lessons across the capital shortly.
Written by Amelia Gregory on Tuesday October 24th, 2006 12:47 pm
Half Japanese ‘Fire in her Eyes’ by Maria Papadimitriou aka Slowly The Eggs.
One Tuesday evening at the end of last month I found myself going along to the Scala at King’s Cross to listen to punk rock band Half Japanese supported by The Lovely Eggs and Let’s Wrestle mainly because the name I have given to my illustrating activity is Slowly The Eggs – as good a reason to go to a gig as any other, right?
I have not managed to discover why the band The Lovely Eggs – a husband and wife indie rock band from Lancaster – think that eggs are lovely or think of themselves as eggs who also happen to be lovely, but I can tell you the reasons why I chose Slowly The Eggs as my aka title.
Half Japanese ‘Red Dress’ by Maria Papadimitriou aka Slowly The Eggs.
Slowly The Eggs is what my native Greeks would say when faced with a slightly sticky situation perhaps in an effort to put things in perspective – it loosely means ‘relax’ – undeniably a useful, philosophical catchphrase to keep in your pocket and use as widely as possible. Admittedly I also chose the phrase due to a little obsession with eggs – my Fine Art degree show featured a section within an installation filled with dyed red eggs which I stepped onto and broke during a performance; it felt good, but do not ask me what it meant – and the fact eggs seem to have a cosmic significance and an infinite potential, they are a beginning. And then of course there is the fascinating debate concerning the chicken and the egg.
I was pleasantly surprised to find, however, that The Lovely Eggs did not only share with me a soft spot for eggs but also one for the general use of food in their art – they sang about it, they chatted and joked about it in between songs, and I love to use food in my collages. In fact, it turned out that The Lovely Eggs were my favourite of the three bands that played, with Let’s Wrestle unfortunately leaving no significant trace in my memory other than a numb feeling of dislike and Half Japanese humorously adding with some of their lyrics to the food related imagery conveyed through the evening – one of their songs I enjoyed most was titled Cherry Pie. Here are a few illustrations inspired by the evening and some of the words in the songs.
Half Japanese ‘Cherry P-eye’ by Maria Papadimitriou aka Slowly The Eggs.
Artists Eugene Perera, viagra dosage Eiko Hondaand Christopher Thomasset up the A.R.T Organization or “Art Casino” in an attempt at initiating reflection on the nature of value of art, pill comodification and risk taking in the art market. Jessica Stokes talks to artist Eugene Perera about “after hours” poker sessions.
Photograph courtesy of A.R.T
Jessica Stokes: Where did you get the idea for this casino?
Eugene Perera: The idea forAlternative Risk Transfercame out of my interest in art and poker. Poker is a game of skill, risk and chance where an experienced player, whilst having no control over the cards they are dealt, is nevertheless able to gain an all important edge through the skilful manipulation of risk in the form of bets. It struck me that this was in some way relevant to my own art practice where I was constantly assessing the risks within a particular course of action and working out what to invest in that action. By investment here I do not necessarily mean economic but time, thought, ideas, effort and skill and so on. As an artist, I wanted to highlight this and ask whether such a way of working which potentially derisks is appropriate to the creative process and whether instead we should be working in such a way that failure is an ever-present possibility. As I began to think about the relevance of poker and how it might illuminate art practice and how artists negotiate the art market, I wondered whether it might be possible to create a work involving art and poker within the context of a wider exhibition. That is the impetus behind this show; it’s a form of ongoing research really.
Image courtesy of A.R.T
JS: What is your background?
EP: I have been creating art for around five years now following a Masters in Art History. Before this, I used to work in media where I set up a number of music and arts radio stations. Working in the media business environment exposed me to constant considerations of risk and as I progressed I noticed how I was better able to assess and manage risk, much like in poker and in art practice. The question now though is not so much how do I minimize risk but how do I explore risk. The exhibition Alternative Risk Transferis an unknown to me and that in itself is inherently risky and my experience cannot fully prepare me for what might happen! That’s interesting to me!
Photograph courtesy of Mark McGowan
JS: Who are the artists that will be taking part?
EP: We have a highly diverse range of artists taking part in the show ranging from the extremely new to the established such as Mark McGowanand Anthony Gross. There is also a strong international strand to the show with Japanese, Taiwanese and US artists alongside a strong London presence. The show encompasses video, sculpture, photography, painting and performance and there are a quite a few interactive gaming works such as the nightly poker games and a 24-hour chess performance created by Patrick Goddard. Many of the participating artists are creating work outside of their normal comfort zones that is commendable in this risk adverse environment. Furthermore, they are willing to stake their work in the nightly poker games in order to better understand how they respond to situations of risk.
JS: Is it important to be aware of the connotations of gambling and the encouragement thereof in today’s climate?
EP: I think it is important to be aware of what one is doing when you’re risking something in a gaming or betting situation. Unaware gambling is potentially harmful and we all know the consequences. With the Alternative Risk Transfer show at The Rag Factory, we are attempting to provoke discussion around what it means when we risk something so I think that has to be a useful contribution.
How about chance, skill and risk-taking in an unusual twist on the debate over the value of art? Give free rein to risky behavior at The Rag Factory16-18 Heneage street, London E1 5LJ. The exhibition is on from the 10th to 13th of December from 12 to 10 pm. Why not come to the preview on the 9th of December from 6 to 9 pm?
From out of the late 80s/early 90s shadows, healingLoverman launch their ‘Human Nature’ EP amongst the Shoreditch elite at Hoxton Bar and Kitchen with all the swagger befitting an underground goth-rock outfit of the noughties.
More often than not, visit web I prefer listening to music in the confines of my kitchen, case or soothing my earholes whilst I’m grimacing on public transport, than in a live setting. A bizarre opinion in a music journalist, but it’s the opportunity to form a personal relationship with the music without the many variables that diminish one’s appreciation. No drunks spilling their plastic pints of lager over you, no frustratingly poor sound system, no nightmare journey across town and back (although at least during which I can get intimately acquainted with an as yet untapped album).
With Loverman’s music however, the live experience propagates my enjoyment of it. It’s not necessarily that I like the musicality of it any more, but seeing something amongst its own fans alerts me to its merits. Like the way you get swept up in singing the chants and blaspheming the ref at a football match even though you have no previous interest in the sport yourself. The messianic allure of front man Gabriel Bruce, as he captures his front row disciples in his visceral sermon, is enough to elevate the music to more than just a death-metal Horrors rip-off. Amongst his followers is model-come-DJ Alice Dellal who takes a moment out of her intoxicated stupor to manically toss her famous locks in time to the band’s knell. As the debonair front man flicks his bleach dyed hair, the girls around him almost physically edge forward in the hope of catching a droplet of perspiration.
It is not just the band’s name and singer’s voice that nod to dark father Nick Cave. Before this band, the London four-piece have experienced their fair share of the scene respectively and have now found their peace with a deathlier sound. It does strike me though that even though the audience may be on trend in their 90s throw-back Goth-grunge attire, they look about as satanic as my nan and far more likely to stroke a kitten than bite its head off like a true Goth should… no?
Tonight, the tracks from their EP swill around the room, lapping up the ominous noise and repugnant imagery, like Beetlejuice sipping a straw through Kurt Cobain’s name. Getting the death theme enough? Expect the cult of Loverman to gain a momentum of deathly proportions throughout 2010.
Check out a clip of Bruce crooning the audience like it were Prom Night:
Written by Katie Weatherall on Wednesday October 7th, 2009 5:24 pm
The last time I saw Final Fantasy was in the tiny Spitz venue. Tonight he is playing to full capacity at the Scala; word has clearly spread and expectations are high. I am here on my own with only a monster coldsore for company. Prior to the gig I sit down at a table opposite a morose and unenthusiastic man in his mid-30s (that point where the unfulfilled of the gender start to become manically desperate) who is nevertheless keen to talk to me – his profession changes from writer on the blag to “actually I work at an internet company and I am a frustrated musician” at the drop of my job description. Not so worth trying to impress me, purchasebuy eh?! I persuade him that Canadian impresario Owen, decease the man who is Final Fantasy, will be well worth watching. Post-set I am vindicated, but Mr. Morose is nowhere to be seen.
Owen takes to the stage with his inimitable banter in full flow, and proceeds to play his entire set on his lonesome, with just his trusted viola, a keyboard, and some looping mechanism (that I can’t hope to understand) for company. Oh, and a lovely young lady, who stands with her back to the crowd in front of an old fashioned projector that she proceeds to masterfully manipulate. Final Fantasy‘s music has been set to acetate drama, and the result is mesmerizing, even if I have to struggle to see the events unfold through the lighting rig that obscures my view on the top balcony.
Final Fantasy is on a one-man misson to coax as many sounds as he can possibly can from a viola, and in his looping hands this one instrument becomes a full orchestra, and the crowd loves it. There is even a lady at the front of the audience whose frantically waving hands can’t decide whether they are vogueing or conducting throughout the entire set. “Has anyone got any questions?” he asks at one point. “Any constructive criticism?” “No, I don’t normally do poppers!” he replies to the one query he gets. “Lesson learned, never talk to the audience!” Even when things go slightly pear-shaped with the looping business, which they inevitably do, he carries on in such a postive manner that no one minds. As the climax is reached and the star-crossed silhouette of lovers finally meet on the projection screen, Owen lifts his miniature partner into the air and they both stumble off stage. There will be a wave of enquiries into viola lessons across the capital shortly.
Did you know that the man who designed Battersea Power Station (Sir Giles Gilbert Scott) also designed the classic red phone box? Clearly a talented guy. I went to see the Chinese exhibition at the Power Station (as it has now been rebranded) for the same reason as everybody else was there – mainly to see the station before it is at last transformed. The art I could give or take – it was haphazard and I was unsure of its meaning, remedy although I particularly enjoyed the fermenting apple wall (mmmm, store yummy appley smell) – the other stuff was merely an adjunct to the amazingly damp interior of the building, (you will find out a lot more about Chinese contemporary arts by reading my new issue). I really hope that the ludicrously long-in-the-planning development will do this amazing building justice – the ominous and ugly “luxury resort hotel” going up next to it must surely be one of the ways in which they have at last found funding. I hadn’t realised how much I treasure the iconic shape of the station, what with me being a sarf-Londoner and all.
Pin-balling my way through The Troubadour, viagra dosagedosage further pissing off the already pissed off waitress whose path I continually obstructed, information pills I started to lose sight of what the hell I had actually trekked across London for. This notion intensified further by the bitter sting of embarrassment that came after I had marched to front of the queue for the gig, viagra proclaimed my name was on the list, preceded to walk in, only to be told I still had to pay. Having just spent the last of my cash on an overpriced drink, I managed to barter my way in with shrapnel and some pocket flint; and just when I thought my night couldn’t get any worse, Owen Duff took to the stage. Nay, I jest.
The moment the few bars of his first song were played, my seething melodrama quelled. This multi-instrumentalist first played the piano at just four years old, progressing onto cello, guitar and bass. When watching him chirp through the energetic Act of War, taken from his first EP A Tunnel Closing in, it’s hard not wish that he was sat at a grand piano rather than a Casio Keyboard, allowing him to fully demonstrate his obvious mastery. Having been compared to a bizarre hybrid of Sufjan Stevens and Dusty Springfield, Duff’s sound is one of complex melody and artful composition.
His range of song is practically bipolar, effortlessly jumping from jolly ditties such as Any Captain Worth his Due to the far more sombre Sepulchre. Probably best for those with suicidal tendencies to avoid this track at all costs. Undeniably, the highlight of the gig was ‘Morning Finsbury Park’, which enlisted the celestial tones of Ellie Gray. It was during this collaboration that you realised you might be witnessing the embryonic stages of a very successful musician. With a definite theatrical twist, this song floats with the softness that epitomises Duff’s signature velveteen sound.
As ever, you can find out more about both Owen Duff and Ellie Gray on the communicative/informative phenomenon that is MySpace. Just go to www.myspace.com/owenduff or www.myspace.com/elliegraymusic.
Anyway, buy more about we missed the support because the thing that came through with the tickets said they were called the Macabees which sounds like one of those ‘The’ bands that make music to a streak of piss being washed away in the bristol drizzle. Through the floor of the bar above the Anson Rooms they didn’t sound like that at all, story but then it turns out they were another band entirely who may have been alright.
In today’s over-saturated electro market it would be easy to dismiss Simian Mobile Disco as just another bleep and whistle DJ duo. However, stomachtroche if the reaction of the Hoxton Bar crowd was anything to go by it would seem that what we have on our hands is a bona fide rave outfit.
I’m not talking lamé leggings and novelty over-sized jewellery here (although the room wasn’t short of any of that), but in a scene that’s more about the fashion than the music SMD stand out as one of the few acts who understand what the phrase ‘Rave’ actually means.
A sweaty, hands-in-the-air music industry crowd is a rare sight, and while many tried the obligatory arms folded, ‘contemplating the relevance of the sound look’, it wasn’t long before the irresistible combination of the spectacular light show and pounding, dance heavy hooks and beats had everyone moving like it was 1992.
With all the retina burning, multi-coloured strobe action and the fact that I was stuck behind a couple of six-footers, it was difficult to catch a glimpse of Misters James Ford and Jas Shaw, although it was clear from the head-bopping shadows on stage that these two were enjoying their music just as much as their sweaty disciples. As things reached their climax with the brilliant It’s the beat, there was barely a still foot to be seen and with the whole night taking on a distinctly retro air it was long before the ‘ironic’ old skool hand movements made an appearance, probably in a bid to disguise the fact that GASP, they were actually enjoying dance music. Like it or not, SMD had brought out the Bez in all of us.
This year the RCA’s Summer show combined various fields in an all-encompassing exhibition space that was both innovative and exciting to explore.
Those of you who’ve seen Fame (you know the one, “Remember my name (FAME!)/I’m gonna live forever” and all that jazz) may remember the relatively small but significant character called Bruno. He hated playing in the strings section of the orchestra because he could electronically create an orchestra of sound and fury on his own, resulting in much dancing in the streets and on taxis…
…The comaprison: Napoleon IIIrd Napoleon IIIrd. Why he hasn’t had more Fame action himself is quite beyond me. Though that said, I had heard on the grapevine that the man was touring with a full band and was hoping to see and hear such a spectacle in the flesh. But alas, whilst hoping that the brass section was hiding out in the toilets working up the saliva to play, the man himself emerged to take his place behind two microphones, that met above a keyboard, nestled between all manner of electronic and musical paraphernalia…and no band.
Never mind though, performing solo, he didn’t disappoint. Unexpectedly formidable, Napoleon is energetic and jerky as his music often is. One thing is that from the start, Napoleon is so believable. Without guile or pretensions, yet vaguely angsty and almost aggressive, not quite desperate but definitely hopeful, he is one man doing his own orchestral manoeuvres in the dark.
Like a proud band leader, pumping his metaphoric baton triumphantly, Napoleon IIIrd conducted his way through the set with a well practiced panache; twiddling with levels, blue-tacking keys, pressing buttons and bristling on his guitar. Completely comfortable but not complacent, Napoleon IIIrd played with abandon. With heavy industrial beats, crunchy glitches, big refrains, random samples and a pre-recorded choir of Napoleons to back him up, Napoleon IIIrd’s music is quite epic live. It’s all the more strange to match the sound to the scene when the guy is all alone on stage amongst his band of merry, electronically recorded selves.
So remember his name, because Napoleon IIIrd is dynamite.
What else is there to say about this young lady who has single-handedly made gospel cool? She headlines a sell out tour hitting most towns this month and with her effortless style and performance prowess it will no doubt be worth a look.
Friday 2nd October: Stricken City, Pure Groove, London
We’re extra excited about this instore as we’ll be chatting to the band beforehand. Stricken City’s catchy post-punk pop has made them a fixture on our shuffle.
Nine-piece (including two drummers) brass band Hackney Colliery Band, traditional African beats of Kasai Masai and reggae dub outfit, One Drop provide the musical element of this night supporting asylum seekers and migrants threatened with deportation.
Joan Wasser’s beautiful songcraft has previously caught the romantic attentions of Jeff Buckley and professional eye of The Wainwright’s. You can catch her alt bluesy ways in this godly setting.
Written by Katie Weatherall on Monday September 28th, 2009 4:15 pm
I could say that Laura J Martin is as ethereal and otherworldly as Bat For Lashes, seek and I could tell you that her haunting musical tales reminds me of listening to a young Kate Bush, and if I really wanted to, approved I could say that her ability to take a pastoral folk sound and twist an electro beat around it puts me in mind of the great Alison Goldfrapp. Like I said, I could say all of that, but that would be thinking inside the box, and I’m going to take my cue from Laura, who has probably never thought inside the box a day in her life. Instead I am going to say that she reminds me of a hummingbird. Watching her on stage, wielding her flute with the swiftness and precision of a warrior using a samurai sword, you can’t quite believe that something so light and delicate can beat its wings so fast. But she does, and we can only stand in awe.
Described by the people behind The Big Chill (who obviously know what they’re talking about) as “the world’s finest flute wielding, piano playing, mandolin toting singer-songwriter”, Laura goes one step further and offers up this description of her sound and style; “think folkie weirdie beardie (without the beardie) funki (with an ‘i’) mixed in a cauldron with some jazzy slurp + niceness squared = me.” Well put. Now, when I first saw her play, I knew nothing about Laura and I will take this opportunity to shamefully confess that I quickly summed up this adorable pixie in front of me with her flute and her mandolin and thought, “Oh OK, it’s going to be a bit folky.” (Not, I hasten to add, that there is anything wrong with folk.) My point is simply this; if you go see Laura J Martin live, expect the unexpected. Armed with her trusty loopstation, which sits at her feet, she takes the already beautiful sounds that come from her instruments and creates a multi-layered composition of melodies that perfectly compliments her sweet but haunting voice. Catching up with her during a phone chat recently, the Liverpool born, Leeds based singer mused upon the nature of musical genres, and how defining her sound into one style will never give you the full illuminated picture. “My style derives mainly from the instruments that I play, and my main instrument is the flute. So my sound definitely has elements of folk, but I wouldn’t like to be boxed as just that. In the past when I’ve taken part in jam sessions, I’ve played a lot of funk flute. I don’t want people to get the impression that it’s all serious folk” she adds, “I do like to have a beat in my music, in fact, the tracks that I like to perform live the most are the ones with a beat.”
Live at The Bowery, Sheffield. Photography by Peter Martin
Over the course of our conversation I discover that validity of this statement. Laura is a jam session veteran; lending her voice and musical ability to performances by hip hop, experimentalism and jazz artists (a much beloved musical style of Laura’s, who rates Herbie Mann as a key influence). Recent collaborations have been with diverse and left-field artists such as the hip hop/turntablist/rock and blues singer Buck 65 (“He’s one of my hero’s”) and kidkanevil. “He’s a hip hop producer and beat maker”, she tells me, “His style is very eclectic. I was involved in his live show for a few years.”
So how did this petite virtuoso come to possess her musical wizardry? I suggested to Laura that her childhood must have involved imps and faeries and nights spent running across deserted moors. “Not quite!” she laughs, “I did go up in suburban Liverpool after all!”. Still, she reflects, “I was a geek. I used to like climbing trees and exploring. I would find excitement in very small things.” Clearly, this free spirited childhood helped shape the creative and imaginative grown up Laura. Case in point; when she “gets up to mischief” in the name of finding a beat; “I’ve gone into the kitchen and banged pots and pans…. it’s all about getting a stick and banging things and seeing what comes out!” And when I ask about the inspiration for her track Dokidoki, she cites the weather for pointing her towards the melody that she would use. “It was a very sunny day,” she explains, “And I was in a really good mood. I went into the shower and the melody came out!”
A major creative highlight of Laura’s was a year spent in Japan, where she immersed herself in the music scene, taking part in numerous jam sessions, namely with the group Soil & “Pimp”. Already being fascinated with Asian culture (and a devotee of Kung Fu films, “the melodies are ace!” she laughs) she used her time productively. “I didn’t watch much T.V, it was all about listening to music, practicing music and reading and not being spoon-fed anything.” Her time in Japan was certainly eventful; one night she awoke to discover that her balcony was in flames, in what was later discovered to be an arson attack. Fortunately, no one was hurt, and Laura – as ever – was open to inspiration in the most unexpected of scenarios and took the opportunity to research the history of Japans arson attacks, a journey which led her to the mother of all arsonists (and legends) Yaoya Oshichi. Oshichi, she explains, then went on to become the subject matter of her track ‘Fire Horse‘. See? Like I told you, her influences and inspirations are as diverse and eclectic as she is.
Now back on her home turf, Laura plans to keep going full steam ahead with her career. As well as releasing her new track ‘The Hangman Tree’ in early 2010 (check her MySpace for details) she is finishing up her new album and planning her gigs for the months ahead. Lucky Londoners can see her performing this Saturday as part of the You Choose Jamboree night. The venue is undisclosed, but sign up to You Choose Jamborees guest list, and the location will be emailed to you. I can’t wait to see what the New Year has in store for Laura J Martin, and I can’t wait to see what she has in store for us.
Written by Cari Steel on Friday December 11th, 2009 3:38 pm
