Amelia’s Magazine | Los Campesinos! at Koko, Feb 25th – Live Review

Illustration courtesy of Zoë Barker

From outside, look the Koko in Camden looks a bit like one of those Swiss clocks – the ones where a girl in lederhosen comes out on a rail every hour to strike the chime. The bare white front façade is broken only by the large ‘KOKO’ illumination and the two doors at either edge of the building which allow the audience access to the smoking balcony, generic and there’s a fair few of them pacing backwards and forwards. Imagining them as clockwork Bavarians is the kind of thing I find amusing. It passes the time, try waiting in the coffee place across the road for the rain to ease and the doors to open.

Los Campesinos! are a band that I’ve had to convince myself that I actually loved, because for a while I was in denial. As far as my last.fm statistics go they’ve been my favourite band of the last 18 months, and I even found myself buying a ticket for their latest tour as soon as physically able and not really being sure why. It always felt like some kind of weirdly innocuous indulgence that support groups put out literature for – y’know, you swear it’s not a big deal, you could walk away at any second, it doesn’t control your life, etc. etc., only to wake up one morning and realise that you’re deeply addicted and in trouble. It’s frightening to realise you’ve had a new favourite band for so long and not even realised.

Illustration courtesy of Zoë Barker

Once inside the venue, I buy a drink and text my erstwhile companion, struck down with food poisoning. “I’m probably the oldest person here – where are the adults?“ I ask (and I’m only 22) – there’s a distinct whiff of Lynx in the air (at a guess: Africa). LC! are a bit of a joke to some people thanks to lead singer Gareth’s scribbled-journal lyrics, and frankly they’re right – they can be acutely embarrassing. I try to justify my love (my addiction, you could say) to my friends by being clever – they’re tongue-in-cheek, I say! The literal meaning is totally ironic, but the intent is still sincere! It never works. My first instinct, looking around the venue, is that these skinny, shy kids find Gareth endearing and sincere without any ironic pretension, which would be sweet and naïve if so. Or it could be seen as pathetic – sample lyric: “As if I walked into the room/to see my ex-girlfriend/who by the way I’m still in love with/sucking the face of some pretty boy/with my favourite band’s most popular song in the background/is it wrong that I can’t decide which bothers me most?” – but then ‘pathetic’ sounds so much like ‘pathos’ and I’m sure that their must be some kind of link or derivation at play there, because then there’s my excuse. The band excels at drawing out an emotional response in its audience.

As I’m trying to figure this out (I’m on my own, remember, so those kinds of thoughts are all I have to amuse myself – another excuse) the first bunch of musicians stroll on stage – it’s barely past eight, which leaves me thinking that I’ll probably be home and in slippers before eleven. But as for the band: the lead singer reminds me of Sinbad, and he starts wooping.

“Woop! … Woop! … Woop!” etc. – he’s jumped over the crowd barriers at this point, and is walking through the still-thin crowd, clearly sizing people up. Every now and again somebody will recoil, which I assume is because they assume that he’ll either a) want them to join in (poor, timid children), or b) eat their ears, because he’s mental. I think it’s hilarious. The rhythmic wooping is augmented by the rest of the band joining in with their instruments, using Sinbad as a metronome. They’re a four-piece – Sinbad, fringe girl, moustache guy, and Sweater (his sensible sky-blue knitwear is his most defining feature, I suppose) – and they blew me away. Rotating between instruments, chanting and howling, they managed to bridge the divide between the danceable electro-wash that I so admire in Holy Fuck or Gang Gang Dance and the careful racket of no-wave. One tune sounded like Arcade Fire’s ‘Wake Up’ shoved backwards through a plane turbine, i.e. sort of inverted by chopping it up into small pieces and reassembled with the bass brought forward and the optimistic chants turned into these awful, angry shouts… I was a total convert. Only by cornering Sinbad in the lobby afterwards did I manage to get their name – Islet. The internet tells me they’re from Cardiff, and they don’t like the internet, they have no recordings available for streaming or purchase (except this BBC live session), they have no website, they are entirely offline. The only way to experience Islet is as a live band, so go. See them live. They kick ass.

The break between the supports is short, and next on are somewhat-hyped London duo Swanton Bombs. To be fair to them, everything I’ve heard about their album has been positive (including a review on this very site), so I’m going to chalk their disappointing live presence up as unexpected. Every song reminded me of that nasty period in the early 00s when blues-rock groups were two-a-penny, where every song could be plotted on a chart with one axis labelled “Killing Floor“, and “Hey Joe” on the other. In short – it was dull, every song sounded the same, and Blood Red Shoes do this kind of thing with much more aplomb. I drifted out towards the back of the room and then upstairs, where I could fully appreciate how atrocious the Koko’s sound quality is for anyone not on the ground near the front – it’s an embarrassment for London, really, considering how much slack the place has had to take up now that the scuffed and glorious Astoria’s gone.

The audience of kids, mostly bored by what’s happened so far (Islet’s tribal antics went down like a civil servant in Downing Street), persists in ignoring whatever’s happening on stage. They’re very clearly only here for LC!, and it’s something of a relief that they come to life when the main act eventually makes an appearance – making me reassess my earlier assumption, that they were here out of a pathetic sincerity, as completely wrong. Namely: I was being pretentious and snobbish, and these kids just like how enjoyable a band LC! are – the lyrics are just plain funny, the music just plain fun, and whilst people like me with too much time on their hands (I blame my friend standing me up and leaving me to my own interior monologue) might debate the extent to which the band take this influence, or that level of twee irony, or said indebtedness to blah blah, this is bullshit. So I forgot about all that, and started jumping about with the rest of the mosh pit.

Illustration courtesy of Zoë Barker

Gareth’s certainly a livelier presence than I expected (seeing as he can come across as a bit wet sometimes). Tonight he bounds around like an over-stimulated puppy, and keeps thanking everybody – his friends, their manager, the audience (I count seven separate breaks between songs where he thanks the fans), the venue, the tour promoter. It’s sweet. The set opens with the steamrolling “I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know,” which is a bastard of a song, frankly. Their latest album is filled with these, how to say, crunchy numbers, loud and a bit ridiculous, and each one sounds like an anthem tonight – the crowd on ground alongside me is just a heaving sweaty coagulation of fists and smiles, right through the more recent tracks (“There Are Listed Building”, “A Heat Rash in the Shape of The Show Me State; Or, Letters from Me to Charlotte” (it is assumed that if you cannot abide this kind of ludicrous titling of songs then LC! are not a band for you)) to the classics of a couple of years ago (“My Year in Lists,” “This Is How You Spell ‘HAHAHA, We Destroyed the Hopes and Dreams of a Generation of Faux-Romantics’”).

One of the best things about seeing these guys live, though, was that their first album suddenly made a lot more sense. Their sound in the flesh isn’t hugely similar to their last two releases (‘We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed’ and this year’s ‘Romance Is Boring’), which were relatively crisp and clean to the ear – live, they sound like the horrible mistake that was the David Newfeld-produced debut ‘Hold On Now, Youngster’, where the levels were all over the place and the whole thing was a sorry soppy mess of a release that would stick to a wall if it was thrown at one and would congeal into just a bloody mass of nothing at the bottom. It was poorly produced, is what I’m saying. But hearing them tonight I suddenly realise that Newfeld had captured them as they actually sound, essentially that exact kind of mop bucket softness, without edges, without any definition to grab onto. They aren’t half as exciting on there as they are here because, well, that’s the nature of live music, but I have greater respect for the Broken Social Scene producer now I can understand his Sisyphean intentions.

The highlight for most people comes towards the end, when the band crack out the song that they will presumably still be ending their sets with in middle-age – “You! Me! Dancing!” – which I detest. It’s a horrible song. I don’t know why it grates when I enjoy everything else that they do so much, but there it is. However, in the interest of balance I’ll say that this once it was awesome because, well, it was. I’d never danced to it alongside a few hundred other people before and the sensation was not, shall we say, unpleasant. When the band left the stage it was the end of their largest headline show to date – despite their quirks, their oddities, their introspection and their glee, I fully expect them to be playing even larger venues within a very short time indeed. They are the biggest and best niche group around. To hell with thought – it’s my gut that wants to see them again as soon as possible.

Categories ,camden, ,cardiff, ,headline tour, ,hold on now, ,islet, ,koko, ,london, ,Los Campesinos, ,romance is boring, ,septet, ,seven, ,swanton bombs, ,we are beautiful, ,we are doomed, ,you me dancing, ,youngster

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Amelia’s Magazine | Los Campesinos! at Koko, Feb 25th – Live Review

Illustration courtesy of Zoë Barker

From outside, look the Koko in Camden looks a bit like one of those Swiss clocks – the ones where a girl in lederhosen comes out on a rail every hour to strike the chime. The bare white front façade is broken only by the large ‘KOKO’ illumination and the two doors at either edge of the building which allow the audience access to the smoking balcony, generic and there’s a fair few of them pacing backwards and forwards. Imagining them as clockwork Bavarians is the kind of thing I find amusing. It passes the time, try waiting in the coffee place across the road for the rain to ease and the doors to open.

Los Campesinos! are a band that I’ve had to convince myself that I actually loved, because for a while I was in denial. As far as my last.fm statistics go they’ve been my favourite band of the last 18 months, and I even found myself buying a ticket for their latest tour as soon as physically able and not really being sure why. It always felt like some kind of weirdly innocuous indulgence that support groups put out literature for – y’know, you swear it’s not a big deal, you could walk away at any second, it doesn’t control your life, etc. etc., only to wake up one morning and realise that you’re deeply addicted and in trouble. It’s frightening to realise you’ve had a new favourite band for so long and not even realised.

Illustration courtesy of Zoë Barker

Once inside the venue, I buy a drink and text my erstwhile companion, struck down with food poisoning. “I’m probably the oldest person here – where are the adults?“ I ask (and I’m only 22) – there’s a distinct whiff of Lynx in the air (at a guess: Africa). LC! are a bit of a joke to some people thanks to lead singer Gareth’s scribbled-journal lyrics, and frankly they’re right – they can be acutely embarrassing. I try to justify my love (my addiction, you could say) to my friends by being clever – they’re tongue-in-cheek, I say! The literal meaning is totally ironic, but the intent is still sincere! It never works. My first instinct, looking around the venue, is that these skinny, shy kids find Gareth endearing and sincere without any ironic pretension, which would be sweet and naïve if so. Or it could be seen as pathetic – sample lyric: “As if I walked into the room/to see my ex-girlfriend/who by the way I’m still in love with/sucking the face of some pretty boy/with my favourite band’s most popular song in the background/is it wrong that I can’t decide which bothers me most?” – but then ‘pathetic’ sounds so much like ‘pathos’ and I’m sure that their must be some kind of link or derivation at play there, because then there’s my excuse. The band excels at drawing out an emotional response in its audience.

As I’m trying to figure this out (I’m on my own, remember, so those kinds of thoughts are all I have to amuse myself – another excuse) the first bunch of musicians stroll on stage – it’s barely past eight, which leaves me thinking that I’ll probably be home and in slippers before eleven. But as for the band: the lead singer reminds me of Sinbad, and he starts wooping.

“Woop! … Woop! … Woop!” etc. – he’s jumped over the crowd barriers at this point, and is walking through the still-thin crowd, clearly sizing people up. Every now and again somebody will recoil, which I assume is because they assume that he’ll either a) want them to join in (poor, timid children), or b) eat their ears, because he’s mental. I think it’s hilarious. The rhythmic wooping is augmented by the rest of the band joining in with their instruments, using Sinbad as a metronome. They’re a four-piece – Sinbad, fringe girl, moustache guy, and Sweater (his sensible sky-blue knitwear is his most defining feature, I suppose) – and they blew me away. Rotating between instruments, chanting and howling, they managed to bridge the divide between the danceable electro-wash that I so admire in Holy Fuck or Gang Gang Dance and the careful racket of no-wave. One tune sounded like Arcade Fire’s ‘Wake Up’ shoved backwards through a plane turbine, i.e. sort of inverted by chopping it up into small pieces and reassembled with the bass brought forward and the optimistic chants turned into these awful, angry shouts… I was a total convert. Only by cornering Sinbad in the lobby afterwards did I manage to get their name – Islet. The internet tells me they’re from Cardiff, and they don’t like the internet, they have no recordings available for streaming or purchase (except this BBC live session), they have no website, they are entirely offline. The only way to experience Islet is as a live band, so go. See them live. They kick ass.

The break between the supports is short, and next on are somewhat-hyped London duo Swanton Bombs. To be fair to them, everything I’ve heard about their album has been positive (including a review on this very site), so I’m going to chalk their disappointing live presence up as unexpected. Every song reminded me of that nasty period in the early 00s when blues-rock groups were two-a-penny, where every song could be plotted on a chart with one axis labelled “Killing Floor“, and “Hey Joe” on the other. In short – it was dull, every song sounded the same, and Blood Red Shoes do this kind of thing with much more aplomb. I drifted out towards the back of the room and then upstairs, where I could fully appreciate how atrocious the Koko’s sound quality is for anyone not on the ground near the front – it’s an embarrassment for London, really, considering how much slack the place has had to take up now that the scuffed and glorious Astoria’s gone.

The audience of kids, mostly bored by what’s happened so far (Islet’s tribal antics went down like a civil servant in Downing Street), persists in ignoring whatever’s happening on stage. They’re very clearly only here for LC!, and it’s something of a relief that they come to life when the main act eventually makes an appearance – making me reassess my earlier assumption, that they were here out of a pathetic sincerity, as completely wrong. Namely: I was being pretentious and snobbish, and these kids just like how enjoyable a band LC! are – the lyrics are just plain funny, the music just plain fun, and whilst people like me with too much time on their hands (I blame my friend standing me up and leaving me to my own interior monologue) might debate the extent to which the band take this influence, or that level of twee irony, or said indebtedness to blah blah, this is bullshit. So I forgot about all that, and started jumping about with the rest of the mosh pit.

Illustration courtesy of Zoë Barker

Gareth’s certainly a livelier presence than I expected (seeing as he can come across as a bit wet sometimes). Tonight he bounds around like an over-stimulated puppy, and keeps thanking everybody – his friends, their manager, the audience (I count seven separate breaks between songs where he thanks the fans), the venue, the tour promoter. It’s sweet. The set opens with the steamrolling “I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know,” which is a bastard of a song, frankly. Their latest album is filled with these, how to say, crunchy numbers, loud and a bit ridiculous, and each one sounds like an anthem tonight – the crowd on ground alongside me is just a heaving sweaty coagulation of fists and smiles, right through the more recent tracks (“There Are Listed Building”, “A Heat Rash in the Shape of The Show Me State; Or, Letters from Me to Charlotte” (it is assumed that if you cannot abide this kind of ludicrous titling of songs then LC! are not a band for you)) to the classics of a couple of years ago (“My Year in Lists,” “This Is How You Spell ‘HAHAHA, We Destroyed the Hopes and Dreams of a Generation of Faux-Romantics’”).

One of the best things about seeing these guys live, though, was that their first album suddenly made a lot more sense. Their sound in the flesh isn’t hugely similar to their last two releases (‘We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed’ and this year’s ‘Romance Is Boring’), which were relatively crisp and clean to the ear – live, they sound like the horrible mistake that was the David Newfeld-produced debut ‘Hold On Now, Youngster’, where the levels were all over the place and the whole thing was a sorry soppy mess of a release that would stick to a wall if it was thrown at one and would congeal into just a bloody mass of nothing at the bottom. It was poorly produced, is what I’m saying. But hearing them tonight I suddenly realise that Newfeld had captured them as they actually sound, essentially that exact kind of mop bucket softness, without edges, without any definition to grab onto. They aren’t half as exciting on there as they are here because, well, that’s the nature of live music, but I have greater respect for the Broken Social Scene producer now I can understand his Sisyphean intentions.

The highlight for most people comes towards the end, when the band crack out the song that they will presumably still be ending their sets with in middle-age – “You! Me! Dancing!” – which I detest. It’s a horrible song. I don’t know why it grates when I enjoy everything else that they do so much, but there it is. However, in the interest of balance I’ll say that this once it was awesome because, well, it was. I’d never danced to it alongside a few hundred other people before and the sensation was not, shall we say, unpleasant. When the band left the stage it was the end of their largest headline show to date – despite their quirks, their oddities, their introspection and their glee, I fully expect them to be playing even larger venues within a very short time indeed. They are the biggest and best niche group around. To hell with thought – it’s my gut that wants to see them again as soon as possible.

Categories ,camden, ,cardiff, ,headline tour, ,hold on now, ,islet, ,koko, ,london, ,Los Campesinos, ,romance is boring, ,septet, ,seven, ,swanton bombs, ,we are beautiful, ,we are doomed, ,you me dancing, ,youngster

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Amelia’s Magazine | Review: Dot-to-Dot Festival 2010, Nottingham


Illustration by Yelena Bryksenkova

Animal Bandido are a fashion label with a difference. They’re totally anti-establishment and detest the omniprescent multi-national fashion empires that exploit workers and fabrics, price case and are on a mission to create a renaissance for struggling manufacturers who cannot compete with the big boys.

Their collections range from the vibrant to the downright whacky; weird and wonderful creations which illustrate fruits and other objects make up there range, pharm which includes knitwear, fabulous graphic prints and casual basics with a twist. Viewing their collections draws comparisons to Jean Charles de Castelbajac, nutty nu-raver Carri Mundane and knitwear brand Sibling. I caught up with Zosen and Claudia, aka Animal Bandido, to find out what’s behind this fresh new label…

What made you guys team up and create the street-wear label Animal Bandido?
Claudia: We started to talk about this project in September 2007. I finished studying fashion design a year before that. I was designing my own collections, doing super-limited editions that I sewed on my own.
At the beginning I was sceptical because I had collaborated on projects before, and most of the time it’s very difficult to agree with the ideas of other people. I thought I’d give this one a go because our backgrounds are different, each of us bringing different ideas and ways of working.
Zosen: I printed my designs on t-shirts for years and I collaborated with fashion designers, but I wanted to go forward producing other garments and control the process. Animal Bandido was born to make something in collaboration and use different techniques; Claudia brings her experience with the patterns and fashion design and I with the graphics and design in general.
But, day-to-day, we both take part in every process.


Spring/Summer 2009

What does the label represent for you?
The label represents other way to create pieces and to show our stuff to as many people possible.

Zosen, you are a well known urban artist in Barcelona. What made you move into fashion?
After the zero tolerance law against street art in Barcelona, I decided to use another techniques to spread the word. Using my graphics and colours on clothes, it’s another way to have a presence on the street and give the message to the street’s citizens.
Also, it’s interesting for me to experiment with other media and other people – it’s a great way to learn.


Autumn/Winter 2010

Claudia, tell us more about your background, in fashion?
I studied a degree in Fashion Design in Barcelona and then studied millinery at Central Saint Martins in London, followed by jewellery workshops at Casa Espiral, Barcelona.
I interned with Alberto Tous for his fashion show for Barcelona Fashion Week, and then began designing my own collections and selling them in little shops in Barcelona and Berlin.

What makes you different to big fashion corporations?
Well, there’s only two of us! There are no hierarchies; we work together and are both involved in everything, all the time. We produce everything locally, we pay worthy salaries, and we keep our manufacturing quantities reasonable to avoid waste.


Illustration by Natsuki Otani

Do you think your label is art or fashion led?
Our clothes are fashion, but treated as small pieces of art. We don’t follow the trends or encourage throwaway fashion, as the corporate giants do. We create and manufacture to order (for shops and customers) again to reduce waste.

Do you usually agree on everything? How easy is it to compromise when working as a creative partnership?
Claudia: It depends on the project, normally we just discuss everything thoroughly, allowing both of us to express our point of view. Sometimes Zosen is forced agree with me when we are talking about patterns and shapes or different ways of finishing a garment, but he controls more in graphic and web design!
We always try to be equally satisfied with everything related to the brand.


Autumn/Winter 2010

Do you experiment with anything else apart from clothes?
Zosen: Oh yes! We do many things, the most recent thing being a sculpture to present the new collection, that we installed in our studio to photograph the collection against.
It’s huge and gives so much new life to our studio that we are hoping to relocate it to some public space.
Claudia: Zosen always has a million and one projects on the go: a giant mural for the people on walls in London, an exhibition of customised records in Rome…
Now I’m coming up with a few surprises for September for Animal Bandido.


Illustration by Yuann Shen

What does Animal Bandido support?
We support the national textile industry in Spain, as opposed to the over-production and the exploitation of the third world. We pay people fairly. We’re behind a renaissance of the companies that became obsolete as a result of insurmountable production levels in third world countries; we want to give the possibility of growth to small companies so it’s not just the yucky multinationals that dominate the local market.

What makes Animal Bandido unique?
Our fabrics have our own original and unique designs printed on them. We make no more than 100 items per piece, so they are truly limited edition. When you consider that we now sell in Basel, New York, Barcelona, Madrid, Seville, Zaragoza, Sweden and Nottingham and our pieces are divided between those places, there aren’t many per country.


Autumn/Winter 2010

What’s up next for Animal Bandido?
For the summer we’re launching printed bikinis and swimwear; lightweight hoodies using prints from the collection and a new, retro-inspired one. We’re also looking at launching accessories.

Another year, seek another bank holiday at the start of the summer, sale and another edition of the Dot-to-Dot Festival, sickness a sprawling mess of bands and audience occupying venues and bars in cities up and down the land. This year sees it spread from birthplace Nottingham and second city Bristol to Manchester, taking in three regional centres that, it could be argued, have long lacked massive centrally-located indie festivals to call their own and to ground their musical calendars.

Thanks to a snail-paced jam on the M1 we missed the first band of the day (Frontiers, in Rock City’s main hall) – instead, the day began for us in Rescue Rooms with the lads of The Cheek, who sadly failed to sparkle in the mood of the glorious sun twinkling down outside. Their name may bring to mind something skinny and sharp from the late 70s but the lead singer’s suit certainly didn’t. It looked like he’d borrowed it from his dad. Their poppy punk sound came across like a sort of watered-down Suede, which held my interest for all of ten minutes before I headed out for a wander.

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Trent SU, the second-largest of the venues at the festival, had what seemed to be the most appealing consistency in acts, even if it meant foregoing Blood Red Shoes and Wild Beasts (both bands having appeared at previous editions of the festival, however, and both bands were, inevitably, awesome – also, it illustrates just how frequently Dot-to-Dot manages to pick out the next big bands mere months before they break).

Small Black were gracing the stage as we arrived – hailing from Long Island, they’re something of a blog darling in corners of the web and I can completely see why. Their music is a very carefully crafted pop that bears a resemblance to geographical cousins like Beach Fossils and Memory Tapes, bands that specialise in a kind of laid-back, fuzzy sort of sound. It’s instantly unlike anything specific that you’ll have heard before, but equally, instantly recognisable. The four lads manage to balance melancholy, longing, joy and ecstasy in a way last seen regularly in the films of John Hughes.

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Upstairs in the bar, Islet were going through their usual routine of tearing up the stage. I’ve been an ardent fan of theirs since their lead singer screamed in my face back in March when they supported Los Campesinos! at the Koko in Camden – their bizarre mélange music, all drum circles and hollering and ambient noise and funk grooves and… oh, why bother with a description when I can offer a demonstration:

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Back downstairs, and Washed Out (or, rather, New York resident Ernest Green) has taken to the stage with his tripped-out ambient house and his friends (and geographic neighbours) in Small Black join him, adding extra layers to his sound. The clash with Blood Red Shoes appeared to have left the audience numbers a touch low, but nobody there regretted their decision – there’s something of the madchester in Washed Out’s sound, like a chilled-out evening at the Haçienda (or at least how that would seem in my mind). A case could also be made for saying it sounds like Chicago house played on a tape player with low battery. The results, regardless, are wonderful.

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The second of my 50-50 choices then arrived, as Liars won out over Wild Beasts – but can you blame me? The American art-punk band has doggedly refused to stick to any kind of consistent style, with their latest release, Sisterworld, yet another masterful addition to their discography. Lead singer Angus Andrews cuts a demented figure on stage, strutting and preening like a preaching Mick Jagger – his voice, the drawl of a doorstep drunk at 4am, smitten with violence, joyfully spitting the lyrics to ‘Scissor’ like some kind of mental declaration of war. Proper, proper good.

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It is then, unfortunately, something of a timetabling error to follow this violent display with Beach House, a delicate washed-out band that would have sat much more comfortably next to, well, Washed Out. The audience, still somewhat full of bloodlust, is quickly bored and begins to dissipate, which is a terrible shame considering just how brilliant Victoria Legrand and Alex Scully’s sultry Kate-Bush-meets-a-shoegaze dreamscapes are.

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I’ve written at length about how much I love Los Campesinos!, so for some of you it will be no surprise that I’m going to say that their set headlining at Trent SU was something of a triumph. I’m not being biased here, though, in all honesty – this really was a magnificent performance. The crowd, who all day had looked a little bit sun-frazzled and unable to conjure up much more than the occasional whoop (even during Liars there were visible signs of struggle during the rounds of applause), suddenly sparked into life. Jumping! Singing along! Gareth couldn’t have looked happier, and his usually awful singing was merely average. A definite peak for the day.

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Had to take a quick break here, because at this point it had been something like 8 hours of standing up with neither break nor sustenance – I grabbed some a sandwich in the still-open Lee Rosy’s Tea Room, a wonderful establishment that’s at the heart of Nottingham’s alternative music and arts scene. Somewhat a shame, then, that this year it isn’t hosting the acoustic acts – Primavera Sound, held on the same weekend, appears to have snapped up many of the bands and artists who usually make it here, leaving us with a smaller-than-usual Dot-to-Dot. It is inescapable, too, to note that the festival is far from sold out. Usually leaving a venue for another is something of a risk – in previous years it has been impossible to see the headliners on any stage without waiting through several hours’ worth of bands beforehand. The breathing space is a welcome change, but the lack of people inevitably means that the festival feels less like a party.

Yuck took to the stage of the Bodega after midnight, looking every bit like they’d been enjoying the £3 pints of 7% cider in the bar downstairs for the past few hours. Already something of a convert to their cause, having seen them several times around London over the past few months, I’d been waxing lyrical to friends all day about their brand of borrowed-from-the-90s slacker rock. Their stage banter was a little dry, and their response to a call from an audience member for their closest thing to a hit, ‘Georgia’, was met with a deliberate omission of the song from the setlist, meaning that this was not exactly their most friendly appearance, but nevertheless it proved a decent gig.

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Dot-to-Dot ends with Stealth putting on the last of the shows as the night turns slowly into early morning, and after fighting my way inside for the end of Casiokids’ brittle dance set I realised that my day (and my feet) were done. Another excellent bank holiday weekend festival – despite the smaller crowds and slightly smaller lineup, it’s still proving itself one of the most important festivals in the regions that host it, and it also provides an excellent way of kick-starting the festival season.

Categories ,Alternative, ,Annual, ,beach fossils, ,Beach House, ,Blood Red Shoes, ,bristol, ,casiokids, ,Chillwave, ,Dot to Dot, ,festival, ,Frontiers, ,Indie, ,islet, ,liars, ,Los Campesinos, ,manchester, ,Memory Tapes, ,nottingham, ,punk, ,small black, ,The Cheek, ,Washed Out, ,Wild Beasts, ,yuck

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Amelia’s Magazine | Southsea Fest 2010 review

LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

On Sunday evening I decided to head down to London Bridge for my last stop of the day, pill case an installation by Japanese designer Satoshi Date. It was held in a musty arch near the railway station, rx atmospherically lit with beautifully crafted lanterns and echoing to the sounds of Satoshi’s very own voice in music. For Satoshi is an artist maker who fuses fine art, stuff clothes making, musicianship and sculpture – all with the help of a large team of devoted fans. When asked what attracts them I was told that it’s not only Satoshi’s obvious talents that draws them in, but the fact that he’s really funny. Always helps!

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
All photography by Amelia Gregory.

There was a hushed silence when I entered and ten minutes later his partner and PR maestro Sarah Ashwell had plucked up the courage to ask where I had come from – they clearly hadn’t taken me for a fashionista, a not un-rare occurrence it has to be said. By this time I had had a good chance to take in the beautiful intricacy of the clothes hanging like refined art pieces from tangled skeins of yarn. Sarah is a craftsperson too and she has made much of the clothing that completes the new Satoshi Date collection, helping Satoshi to translate his ideas into reality.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

Ethics are important to Satoshi, who states in his press brief that “In our capitalist society consumers rarely consider the consequences of their bargain shoes, or whether it is actually possible to fairly produce a jacket with a £15 price tag.” It’s a rare person indeed who works in the fashion industry and dares to utter the C word. I mean, I bandy it around all the time, but the cogs that keep the wheels of fashion turning are so well and truly oiled by our current capitalist global economy that it can seem hard to see how we break free. “The Satoshi Date philosophy does not end with the sale of the garment, rather it continues on its mission of inspiring people to think more, care more, be more creative and be more accountable, thus trying to diminish the negative impact that fashion so often has on the environment.” These are admirable aims, and Satoshi dreams of a future where his garments are mass produced by “fairly treated and fully appreciated skilled workers in decent conditions.” For now most are one offs, and he is extremely careful how he sources the materials.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory

All fabric are organic and naturally dyed by hand, and Satoshi tries to keep waste to a minimum by creating smaller pieces from offcuts. He creates necklaces out of felted wool, tangles old computer cables and reshapes old guitar strings into colourful architectural necklaces.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

More experimental pieces are interspersed with clearly saleable items, and unsurprisingly Satoshi already has a series of stockists in his homeland. Back here in the UK we really really need to nurture more designers like Satoshi Date: expect to find him profiled in my upcoming Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration (which will have an ethical slant, of course).

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Here’s Satoshi Date…

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
and just some of his team…

This soft, understated kind of clothing isn’t really my personal style, but although I would wear very little of it myself I can appreciate the beautiful craftsmanship – I particularly liked the way that fabrics have been rewoven and re-imagined, and the jewellery was right up my street: I even treated myself to a pair of swinging felted ball earrings. Let’s hope my moths don’t find them.
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

On Sunday evening I decided to head down to London Bridge for my last stop of the day, drug an installation by Japanese designer Satoshi Date. It was held in a musty arch near the railway station, what is ed atmospherically lit with beautifully crafted lanterns and echoing to the sounds of Satoshi’s very own voice in music. For Satoshi is an artist maker who fuses fine art, more about clothes making, musicianship and sculpture – all with the help of a large team of devoted fans. When asked what attracts them I was told that it’s not only Satoshi’s obvious talents that draws them in, but the fact that he’s really funny. Always helps!

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
All photography by Amelia Gregory.

There was a hushed silence when I entered and ten minutes later his partner and PR maestro Sarah Ashwell had plucked up the courage to ask where I had come from – they clearly hadn’t taken me for a fashionista, a not un-rare occurrence it has to be said. By this time I had had a good chance to take in the beautiful intricacy of the clothes hanging like refined art pieces from tangled skeins of yarn. Sarah is a craftsperson too and she has made much of the clothing that completes the new Satoshi Date collection, helping Satoshi to translate his ideas into reality.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

Ethics are important to Satoshi, who states in his press brief that “In our capitalist society consumers rarely consider the consequences of their bargain shoes, or whether it is actually possible to fairly produce a jacket with a £15 price tag.” It’s a rare person indeed who works in the fashion industry and dares to utter the C word. I mean, I bandy it around all the time, but the cogs that keep the wheels of fashion turning are so well and truly oiled by our current capitalist global economy that it can seem hard to see how we break free. “The Satoshi Date philosophy does not end with the sale of the garment, rather it continues on its mission of inspiring people to think more, care more, be more creative and be more accountable, thus trying to diminish the negative impact that fashion so often has on the environment.” These are admirable aims, and Satoshi dreams of a future where his garments are mass produced by “fairly treated and fully appreciated skilled workers in decent conditions.” For now most are one offs, and he is extremely careful how he sources the materials.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory

All fabric are organic and naturally dyed by hand, and Satoshi tries to keep waste to a minimum by creating smaller pieces from offcuts. He creates necklaces out of felted wool, tangles old computer cables and reshapes old guitar strings into colourful architectural necklaces.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

More experimental pieces are interspersed with clearly saleable items, and unsurprisingly Satoshi already has a series of stockists in his homeland. Back here in the UK we really really need to nurture more designers like Satoshi Date: expect to find him profiled in my upcoming Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration (which will have an ethical slant, of course).

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Here’s Satoshi Date…

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
and just some of his team…

This soft, understated kind of clothing isn’t really my personal style, but although I would wear very little of it myself I can appreciate the beautiful craftsmanship – I particularly liked the way that fabrics have been rewoven and re-imagined, and the jewellery was right up my street: I even treated myself to a pair of swinging felted ball earrings. Let’s hope my moths don’t find them.
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

On Sunday evening I decided to head down to London Bridge for my last stop of the day, decease an installation by Japanese designer Satoshi Date. It was held in a musty arch near the railway station, purchase atmospherically lit with beautifully crafted lanterns and echoing to the sounds of Satoshi’s very own voice in music. For Satoshi is an artist maker who fuses fine art, clothes making, musicianship and sculpture – all with the help of a large team of devoted fans. When asked what attracts them I was told that it’s not only Satoshi’s obvious talents that draws them in, but the fact that he’s really funny. Always helps!

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
All photography by Amelia Gregory.

There was a hushed silence when I entered and ten minutes later his partner and PR maestro Sarah Ashwell had plucked up the courage to ask where I had come from – they clearly hadn’t taken me for a fashionista, a not un-rare occurrence it has to be said. By this time I had had a good chance to take in the beautiful intricacy of the clothes hanging like refined art pieces from tangled skeins of yarn. Sarah is a craftsperson too and she has made much of the clothing that completes the new Satoshi Date collection, helping Satoshi to translate his ideas into reality.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

Ethics are important to Satoshi, who states in his press brief that “In our capitalist society consumers rarely consider the consequences of their bargain shoes, or whether it is actually possible to fairly produce a jacket with a £15 price tag.” It’s a rare person indeed who works in the fashion industry and dares to utter the C word. I mean, I bandy it around all the time, but the cogs that keep the wheels of fashion turning are so well and truly oiled by our current capitalist global economy that it can seem hard to see how we break free. “The Satoshi Date philosophy does not end with the sale of the garment, rather it continues on its mission of inspiring people to think more, care more, be more creative and be more accountable, thus trying to diminish the negative impact that fashion so often has on the environment.” These are admirable aims, and Satoshi dreams of a future where his garments are mass produced by “fairly treated and fully appreciated skilled workers in decent conditions.” For now most are one offs, and he is extremely careful how he sources the materials.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory

All fabric are organic and naturally dyed by hand, and Satoshi tries to keep waste to a minimum by creating smaller pieces from offcuts. He creates necklaces out of felted wool, tangles old computer cables and reshapes old guitar strings into colourful architectural necklaces.

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
LFW satoshi date by genie spinosa
Satoshi Date by Genie Spinosa.

More experimental pieces are interspersed with clearly saleable items, and unsurprisingly Satoshi already has a series of stockists in his homeland. Back here in the UK we really really need to nurture more designers like Satoshi Date: expect to find him profiled in my upcoming Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration (which will have an ethical slant, of course).

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
Here’s Satoshi Date…

Satoshi Date SS2011 photo by Amelia Gregory
and just some of his team…

This soft, understated kind of clothing isn’t really my personal style, but although I would wear very little of it myself I can appreciate the beautiful craftsmanship – I particularly liked the way that fabrics have been rewoven and re-imagined, and the jewellery was right up my street: I even treated myself to a pair of swinging felted ball earrings. Let’s hope my moths don’t find them.

Illustrations by Jamie O’Callaghan

I’m a fan of small, sales independent festivals and I’d pick one over Glastonbury any day. I’m not sure I can include Southsea Fest in that grouping just yet, because, as one organiser said, “we’re not the Great Escape love”. I don’t think they’ll ever be able to rival the festival that’s just 50 miles along the coast, and that lack of ambition is just one of two things that holds the one-day festival back.

The other is the organisation. Mix ups over guestlists, disputes over whether or not I had a plus one and general waiting around meant that I missed the first band I wanted to catch, which was Revere. They played in the stunning Kings Theatre, and would probably have been my highlight of the day, if I’d been able to catch them.

Instead, I headed over to the Fat Fox to check out Real Fur but they were running late – over an hour late – although I was determined to not miss them. At this rate, I’d been at the festival for a couple of hours without hearing a single note of live music. When we finally watched Real Fur, it was definitely worth the wait. They’re a rock band that are so much more exciting live. ‘Pride’ was the standout track for me, but generally the feel of Real Fur is that they’re a jangly, dancy rock band with the odd harmony and, as much as I hate the phrase, a groovy vibe.

I caught Montage Populaire after and I really enjoyed their set. I had no idea they were one of the local bands booked, and spent hours trying to remember where I’ve seen them before. I failed, but I’ll definitely be checking them out in the future. They’re an art-rock band, and it’s easy to see why they’ve drawn comparisons with Los Campesinos and early Blur.

I watched a couple of local bands after that, before stumbling across the Ruskins doing a street gig to promote their set, which I went to. So did the majority of festival-goers judging by the size of the crowd. The lovely London lads managed a couple of songs in the street before some security guards made them stop, but inside Little Johnny Russells they managed half an hour of their ska-infused rock. It was refreshing to hear something that wasn’t indie or acoustic, as the lineup was pretty swamped with it.

The next venue was pretty hideous, but home to two of the most exciting bands on the bill. I got there in time for Let’s Buy Happiness; it’s always exciting to watch bands you know are destined for big things play such a tiny venue. The vocals are completely disarming, the music has this beautiful swaying rhythm and Let’s Buy Happiness produce the most charming pop songs that I’ve ever seen played in Portsmouth. They just got featured by the Guardian, so it won’t be long until the rest of the press begins to gush about them. They are truly spectacular.

Bright Light Bright Light played a set of electro-dance-pop that wasn’t too interesting, so I’ll skip over that bit. After came Islet, who I was crazy excited about catching. They don’t bother with the concept of a stage, preferring to swap instruments and drag them into the crowd. In fact, when one guy in the crowd reached out to touch a guitar, he was handed it. When he wasn’t sure what to do, the guitar was gently led back to the stage. Islet are pretty weird, but they’re unlike any other band I’ve seen.

When I listen I have this internal fight between feeling they’re some kind of Emporer’s New Clothes, art-school weirdness that people sway along to because they’re fashionable, and genuine love for their uniqueness. It’s tiring watching them jump around the stage, share instruments and howl, made all the stranger by the setting. They’re a band everyone should see, even if just for the spectacle of it.

The closing set came from King Charles, back at the Fat Fox. I’ve been listening to his music for a while, so to be able to watch him with a couple of hundred other people was the perfect way to end the day. The harmonies are even more heart-stoppingly beautiful, the guitar riffs that little bit more exciting and the drums that bit more frantic when played live and on a tiny stage. Easily the most captivating performer, King Charles literally didn’t put a foot wrong, performing every track note-perfect. He drew queues outside, the size of which I didn’t notice anywhere else, and showed every other band how it’s done.

If Southsea Fest had a little more ambition, if it could decide whether it’s a festival in Southsea or a festival with bands from Southsea, and if it could book the same quality of bands as this year, it could be popping up on many more radars at the end of next summer. All the elements of a successful festival are there, and hopefully the success of this event will encourage the organisers to step it up for next year.

Categories ,islet, ,Jaymie O’Callaghan, ,King Charles, ,Let’s Buy Happiness, ,Montage Populaire, ,Real Fur, ,Revere, ,The Ruskins

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Amelia’s Magazine | Sparky Deathcap – Interview

Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix
There’s a big buzz around Erdem, link especially amongst the highly groomed and black attired fash-pack. As I entered Senate House I couldn’t but help noting that I looked somewhat out of place, order clashing floral print leggings and gold hi tops peeking out below my sensible black coat, information pills my hair somewhat wilder than the average attendee. Author Talitha Stevenson has just written a new book, Disappear, which describes the lives of hedge fund managers and their wives, many of whom work in “fashion” and I think this may have been where they hang out.

my legs, erdem
This is a view of my legs at Erdem.

One great thing about fashion week is the opportunity to visit fabulous venues that I would never otherwise get to know. Senate House is an art deco masterpiece, and the Grand Hall offered a dramatic setting for the Erdem show, enhanced by the huge globe lights that shed a bright diffused luminescence.

Senate House, Erdem
Senate House.

As I was seated on the upper balcony I was given a brief nod of acknowledgement by Sara from Relative MO PR, a girl who I’ve known as long as I’ve worked in fashion – from way back when we were both humble interns gossiping about our bosses and getting drunk on free cocktails at bad model parties. She’s much younger than me, but she’s since risen up the ranks and I am no longer considered worthy of a proper chat.

balcony at erdem
a view from the balcony at Erdem
A view from the balcony at Erdem.

As she crouched next to some doyenne of fashion I overheard their conversation: she’s getting married, with a ceilidh in the countryside. I felt like saying: “Ah, but will your ceilidh band be as good as mine?!” But I didn’t – because it is the job of a fashion PR to chat to the most important people and I most definitely am not considered important. A fact of which I am very proud – I like to exist on the fringes of fashion, getting excited by only those things I think are worth being excited about and staying away from all the behind-the-scenes machinations. But I won’t pretend it’s not highly irritating when someone I’ve known for a very long time no longer sees fit to talk to me. Such is the world of fashion my friends.

Sometimes the models at a show are just so ultra skinny you are left wondering how they have the energy to stride down the catwalk, let alone do so in a vivacious manner. Erdem was one such show where I was struck by their absolute thinness, no doubt compounded by the pallid make-up and severe pulled back hairdos. But stride they did, criss-crossing the balcony before making a circuit of the downstairs hall. And I thought, why are all these ladies in black getting so excited about Erdem? It’s a strange fact of fashion that those with the most power, the top buyers and PRs, all look exactly the same – the exact opposite in fact of what fashion implores us to do. Erdem showed delicate geometric prints in muted autumnal tones of mustard yellow, teal and rust. There were high rounded shoulders, shaggy ruffles, lace and high waisted miniskirts to compliment the swinging maxi dresses that swept so wonderfully down the balcony. I swear there was not one tone of black in the whole darn collection.

Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem Photography by Amelia gregory
Erdem Photography by Amelia gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. All photography by Amelia Gregory.

As I left I noticed that all the goodie bags had been left behind – a sure sign that this particular audience was too good for free hair products, even if they looked as though they might actually use such things. On my way out I made my first and only sighting of Diana Pernet, who writes A Shaded View on Fashion blog but is best noted for her ever-present foot high hair-do. I passed Erdem himself doing a meet ‘n’ greet as I turned to go down the staircase, a large queue of sycophants waiting to fawn over the designer. But I wonder, just how many of those in attendance would ever actually wear his clothes, beautiful as they were?

Diane Pernet
Diane Pernet.

Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix
Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix.

There’s a big buzz around Erdem, order especially amongst the highly groomed and black attired fash-pack. As I entered Senate House I couldn’t help noting that I looked somewhat out of place, visit this clashing floral print leggings and gold hi tops peeking out below my sensible black coat, my hair somewhat wilder than the average attendee. Author Talitha Stevenson has just written a new book, Disappear, which describes the lives of hedge fund managers and their wives, many of whom work in “fashion” and I think this may have been where they hang out.

my legs, erdem
This is a view of my legs at Erdem. Lovely angle eh?

One great thing about fashion week is the opportunity to visit fabulous venues that I would never otherwise get to know. Senate House is an art deco masterpiece, and the Grand Hall offered a dramatic setting for the Erdem show, enhanced by the huge globe lights that shed a bright diffused luminescence.

Senate House, Erdem
Senate House.

As I was seated on the upper balcony I was given a brief nod of acknowledgement by Sara from Relative MO PR, a girl who I’ve known as long as I’ve worked in fashion – from way back when we were both humble interns gossiping about our bosses and getting drunk on free cocktails at bad model parties. She’s much younger than me, but she’s since risen up the ranks and I am no longer considered worthy of a proper chat.

balcony at erdem
a view from the balcony at Erdem
A view from the balcony at Erdem.

As she crouched next to some doyenne of fashion I overheard their conversation: she’s getting married, with a ceilidh in the countryside. I felt like saying: “Ah, but will your ceilidh band be as good as mine?!” But I didn’t – because it is the job of a fashion PR to chat to the most important people and I most definitely am not considered important. A fact of which I am very proud – I like to exist on the fringes of fashion, getting excited by only those things I think are worth being excited about and staying away from all the behind-the-scenes machinations. But I won’t pretend it’s not highly irritating when someone I’ve known for a very long time no longer sees fit to talk to me. Such is the world of fashion my friends.

Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix
Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix
Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix.

Sometimes the models at a show are just so ultra skinny you are left wondering how they have the energy to stride down the catwalk, let alone do so in a vivacious manner. Erdem was one such show where I was struck by their absolute thinness, no doubt compounded by the pallid make-up and severe pulled back hairdos. But stride they did, criss-crossing the balcony before making a circuit of the downstairs hall. And I thought, why are all these ladies in black getting so excited about Erdem? It’s a strange fact of fashion that those with the most power, the top buyers and PRs, all look exactly the same – the exact opposite in fact of what fashion implores us to do. Erdem showed delicate geometric prints in muted autumnal tones of mustard yellow, teal and rust. There were high rounded shoulders, shaggy ruffles, lace and high waisted miniskirts to compliment the swinging maxi dresses that swept so wonderfully down the balcony. I swear there was not one tone of black in the whole darn collection.

Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem Photography by Amelia gregory
Erdem Photography by Amelia gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. All photography by Amelia Gregory.

As I left I noticed that all the goodie bags had been left behind – a sure sign that this particular audience was too good for free hair products, even if they looked as though they might actually use such things. On my way out I made my first and only sighting of Diana Pernet, who writes A Shaded View on Fashion blog but is best noted for her ever-present foot high hair-do. I then passed Erdem himself doing a meet ‘n’ greet as I turned to go down the staircase, a large queue of sycophants waiting to fawn over the designer. But I wonder, just how many of those in attendance would ever actually wear his clothes, beautiful as they were?

Diane Pernet
Diane Pernet.

Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix
Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix.

There’s a big buzz around Erdem, web especially amongst the highly groomed and black attired fash-pack. As I entered Senate House I couldn’t help noting that I looked somewhat out of place, physician clashing floral print leggings and gold hi tops peeking out below my sensible black coat, seek my hair somewhat wilder than the average attendee. Author Talitha Stevenson has just written a new book, Disappear, which describes the lives of hedge fund managers and their wives, many of whom work in “fashion” and I think this may have been where they hang out.

my legs, erdem
This is a view of my legs at Erdem. Lovely angle eh?

One great thing about fashion week is the opportunity to visit fabulous venues that I would never otherwise get to know. Senate House is an art deco masterpiece, and the Grand Hall offered a dramatic setting for the Erdem show, enhanced by the huge globe lights that shed a bright diffused luminescence.

Senate House, Erdem
Senate House.

As I was seated on the upper balcony I was given a brief nod of acknowledgement by Sara from Relative MO PR, a girl who I’ve known as long as I’ve worked in fashion – from way back when we were both humble interns gossiping about our bosses and getting drunk on free cocktails at bad model parties. She’s much younger than me, but she’s since risen up the ranks and I am no longer considered worthy of a proper chat.

balcony at erdem
a view from the balcony at Erdem
A view from the balcony at Erdem.

As she crouched next to some doyenne of fashion I overheard their conversation: she’s getting married, with a ceilidh in the countryside. I felt like saying: “Ah, but will your ceilidh band be as good as mine?!” But I didn’t – because it is the job of a fashion PR to chat to the most important people and I most definitely am not considered important. A fact of which I am very proud – I like to exist on the fringes of fashion, getting excited by only those things I think are worth being excited about and staying away from all the behind-the-scenes machinations. But I won’t pretend it’s not highly irritating when someone I’ve known for a very long time no longer sees fit to talk to me. Such is the world of fashion my friends.

Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix
Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix
Erdem by Rachel de Ste. Croix.

Sometimes the models at a show are just so ultra skinny you are left wondering how they have the energy to stride down the catwalk, let alone do so in a vivacious manner. Erdem was one such show where I was struck by their absolute thinness, no doubt compounded by the pallid make-up and severe pulled back hairdos. But stride they did, criss-crossing the balcony before making a circuit of the downstairs hall. And I thought, why are all these ladies in black getting so excited about Erdem? It’s a strange fact of fashion that those with the most power, the top buyers and PRs, all look exactly the same – the exact opposite in fact of what fashion implores us to do. Erdem showed delicate geometric prints in muted autumnal tones of mustard yellow, teal and rust. There were high rounded shoulders, shaggy ruffles, lace and high waisted miniskirts to compliment the swinging maxi dresses that swept so wonderfully down the balcony. I swear there was not one tone of black in the whole darn collection.

Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem Photography by Amelia gregory
Erdem Photography by Amelia gregory
Erdem. Photography by Amelia Gregory
Erdem. All photography by Amelia Gregory.

As I left I noticed that all the goodie bags had been left behind – a sure sign that this particular audience was too good for free hair products, even if they looked as though they might actually use such things. On my way out I made my first and only sighting of Diana Pernet, who writes A Shaded View on Fashion blog but is best noted for her ever-present foot high hair-do. I then passed Erdem himself doing a meet ‘n’ greet as I turned to go down the staircase, a large queue of sycophants waiting to fawn over the designer. But I wonder, just how many of those in attendance would ever actually wear his clothes, beautiful as they were?

Diane Pernet
Diane Pernet.

Sparky Deathcap is a twenty-something musician and artist from Cheshire, sale whose wry tales of love and loss are in turns hilarious and heartwrenching. You may have caught him recently supporting the likes of Los Campesinos! and Hot Club de Paris.

On songs like “Berlin Syndrome”, ampoule guitars and handclaps loop and whirl around lyrics like, page “Since then you just make cameos when I’m asleep/you’re the William Shatner of this elite genre of women that I have loved and lost,” creating a lo-fi landscape one that is simultaneously bleak and full of warmth. At times the songs are reminiscent of early Smog, when Bill Callahan wrote songs like he had a sense of humour and sometimes felt a bit awkward. As well as the recent Tear Jerky EP (available here) he maintains a brilliant cartoon blog at his website.

It’s a busy year for Sparky, off on a European tour as we speak, but I managed to send a few emails back and forth about comic books, rock operas and the Wonder Years.

So, you’re on tour with Los Campesinos! right now, how’s that going?

It has been really fun, it’s an absolute privilege to tour with my friends Los Campesinos! and the supports, Islet and Swanton Bombs, are two outrageously good bands. It was my birthday the other day coinciding with our Aberdeen date and the crowd sang happy birthday to me which was a really touching moment.

Sparky Deathcap presumably isn’t your real name – is it a sort of onstage personal that allows you to unleash your inner diva, like Beyonce Knowles’ Sasha Fierce?

I originally chose it something like 5 years ago when I started doing the one man and a guitar thing live because I felt like it would be easier to play if I could invent a persona. Now, however, there isn’t really a great separation between Sparky Deathcap and me, except for when I remember some of the crap, depressing gigs I used to do and I think about younger Sparky as this sort of beleaguered little brother or something and how excited he’d be by the exciting things I’m getting to do at the moment. Crikey, my mind is like Fellini directing The Wonder Years. Edited by Lassie.

When you play live you have drawings projected behind you, do you think you might ever make a whole comic book, is that something you’d be interested in?

Oh I have grand, grand plans for comic books. I’m working on a little comics booklet for my album and an illustrated valentines rock opera for next year. I’m also trying to resurrect my weekly comic strip for my new blog. The trouble is that comics are incredibly labour intensive. Chris Ware pointed out once that unlike writing a novel, comics don’t allow any sort of natural flow to occur as every page has to be planned out as a whole and so the panels within in it are predestined. I’d love to create a big Clowesian comic book one day, but for now I have to concentrate upon producing small, gimmicky things to “build my profile”… urggggghhhh, the modern world… adulthood…

You mentioned your rock opera there, what does that involve?

That was something I wrote for a ukulele festival in Manchester last year on Valentine’s Day. I was wrongly under the impression that we had to perform the whole thing on ukulele and didn’t really have any ukulele songs so I set about writing a sort of musical/rock opera about an organ transplant van driver finding love whilst snowbound in a rural town. I drew some illustrations for my old overhead projector as well. I hope to turn it into a special edition record and book for next year’s Valentine’s Day.

Musically, who would you call your biggest influences? You get compared to Jeffrey Lewis a lot, right? But that seems like a pretty easy comparison for anyone who sings and draws…

I have an awful lot of respect, naturally, for Jeffrey Lewis, and he has obviously influenced some aspects of my live show, even if it is in trying to steer away from his territory as much as I possibly can. I suppose the bands I have revered the most over the years are The Beach Boys, Pavement, Smog, Silver Jews, Magnetic Fields and Why?, but increasingly I’m becoming very interested in Steve Reich and Bill Evans. In terms of my artwork I’m very heavily influenced by Archer Prewitt, Daniel Clowes, Chris Ware, Adrian Tomine and Marcel Dzama. Archer Prewitt is another artist/musician; he plays in the The Sea And Cake and under his own name whilst also drawing the incomparable Sof’ Boy comics.

So, after this tour, what’s next for Sparky Deathcap?

Next up: more touring with Los Camp. I’m trying to perfect my world-weary, “oh, touring is such a drag,” but in truth it’s the most fun I’ve ever had. We have European and US tours to come which will be really amazing. In between I’m working hard on writing and recording my album, which is really very exciting.

Categories ,cartoon, ,cartoons, ,comics, ,interview, ,islet, ,Jeffrey Lewis, ,Los Campesinos, ,Singer Songwriter, ,sparky deathcap, ,swanton bombs, ,tearjerky

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