Amelia’s Magazine | Fred Butler: London Fashion Week A/W 2012 Presentation Review

Fred Butler AW 2012 by Mitika Chohan

Fred Butler AW 2012 by Mitika Chohan

I love Fred Butler. She has been one of my favourite accessories and props designers for a few years now and apart from what she makes I also adore the fascinating and playful way in which she dresses as well as the way she expresses herself in interviews, which reveals a really quite special person indeed. I had seen her props pop up here and there in magazines, like in Amelia’s Magazine Issue 7 for which she made a Noah’s Ark shaped paper hat – in fact Amelia Gregory was one of the first to commission props from Fred. But I think a story I saw in i-D’s The Agyness Deyn Issue from May 2008, titled ‘Attitude’, featuring an inflatable rockets bra by Fred among other striking props, was what made me an official fan.

Fred Butler AW 2012 Charli XCX photo by Maria Papadimitriou

While queueing to see Fred’s live presentation of her A/W 2012 collection at The Portico Rooms in Somerset House on the 20th of February I was extra happy because – apart from the obvious reason – my young friend and budding stylist Isabella Sumner of Secret Danger Sister was texting me from backstage. Isabella became Kim Howells’ assistant for this London Fashion Week season after I forwarded to her a post by Kim I saw on Facebook asking for help! Kim has styled numerous Fred Butler presentations, films and lookbooks. Fred’s presentation took the form of a mini catwalk show which repeated itself over and over to a different audience each time. And there was quite a crowd to get through. During the four times in and out from the Portico Rooms – I saw the show twice – there were queues extending all the way to and down the stairs leading to the ground level of Somerset House. In those queues I spotted an array of some of the coolest, cutting edge creatives around, like Piers Atkinson, Bishi, Alùn Davies and Diane Pernet and filmmaker Konstantinos Menelaou from ASVOF, to name a few, all of whom of course love Fred’s original work.

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou 9

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Refreshingly the show opened with pop singer Charli XCX singing her catchy song ‘I’ll Never Know’ live with a band. Fred Butler, who’s twitter feed is full of #thismorningimlisteningto and other music related tweets, has a special relationship with music. She often DJs, she has made props for musicians such as Patrick Wolf, Nicki Minaj, Beth Ditto, La Roux AND Lady Gaga and, according to her, looking at the way musicians were dressed on album covers when she was little has been very inspiring. So it seems entirely natural that this season Fred, enabled by Red Bull Catwalk Studio, collaborated with Charlie XCX on a bespoke soundtrack for the collection. In general I think that the way Fred uses different art forms to enhance and show her work works incredibly well – for example she has made beautiful fashion films of her previous collections with talented young directors such as Zaiba Jabbar and Elisha Smith-Leverock.

Fred Butler AW 2012 by Nicola Ellen

Fred Butler AW 2012 by Nicola Ellen

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Fred Butler 2012 by Catherine Meadows

Fred Butler 2012 by Catherine Meadows

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Another notable and interesting thing about Fred Butler’s collections is the way she titles them using combined, long and sometimes made up words and phrases that seem to describe an other worldly thing or process in exactly the same intricate and imaginative way her pieces are made. The title of this collection was Tank Top-Ranking, Tong-Tied and Twisted. Her S/S 2012 collection was called Sonic Sinuate Supertemporal Sequestador and a 2011 collection went under the name of Incandescent Meta-morph-incessant.

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Fred Butler AW 2012 LFW  by Deborah Moon

Fred Butler AW 2012 LFW by Deborah Moon

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Following her S/S 2012 collection which featured more round shapes, frills and quite a bit of fabric, I was personally happy that in this collection Fred returned to origami folding techniques and body props with more clear cut, geometric shapes. This time I thought that the four colour goddesses that stepped out looked impeccable from head to toe. Each model had a monochrome base formed by beautiful knitted undergarments – a collaboration with EDE who specialise in English produced hand knits – and a matching colour wig. Placed on top of that base were a quilted, high collar gilet, origami obi belts, a marshmallow hued harness with twisted tubes, more belts and headbands out of twisted strings and more origami inspired, sculptural body pieces. The outfits were completed by colour matching shoes designed in collaboration with Rosy Nicholas. According to the press release there was a sushi related theme under all of this, especially in relation to the colour palette used. Usually I am very intrigued by the designers’ influences and references – and I have fun making up quite a few of my own when looking at collections – but Fred Butler’s work is for me so striking and fulfilling visually that my mind feels too drunk with pure aesthetic pleasure to care for any explanation in other terms.

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

Fred Butler AW 2012 photo by Maria Papadimitriou

All photography by Maria Papadimitriou

Categories ,A Shaded View on Fashion, ,accessories, ,accessories designer, ,Agyness Deyn, ,Alun Davies, ,Amelia’s Magazine, ,ASVOF, ,Beth Ditto, ,Bishi, ,Catherine Meadows, ,Charli XCX, ,Collaborations, ,Deborah Moon, ,Diane Pernet, ,EDE, ,Elisha Smith-Leverock, ,Ella Dror PR, ,Fashion Film, ,Fred Butler, ,i-D, ,Isabella Sumner, ,japanese, ,Kim Howells, ,Kimonos, ,Knits, ,Knotted, ,Konstantinos Menelaou, ,La Roux, ,Lady Gaga, ,London Fashion Week, ,Maria Papadimitriou, ,Mitika Chohan, ,monochrome, ,music, ,Nail Art, ,Nicki Minaj, ,Nicola Haigh, ,Noah’s Ark, ,Obi Belts, ,origami, ,pastels, ,Patrick Wolf, ,piers atkinson, ,Portico Rooms, ,Props, ,Quilting, ,rainbow, ,Red Bull Catwalk Studio, ,Red Bull Music Academy, ,Secret Danger Sister, ,Somerset House, ,Sushi, ,Twisted, ,Zaiba Jabbar

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | Red Bull Music Academy and Daily Note newspaper come to London in 2010

laura marling i speak because i can photo live album review new second

Sometimes I can imagine a Laura Marling height chart on my wall. I’ve seen her as just a girl, viagra order the fresh-faced ponytailed pinnacle of the human pyramid she posed in for her first feature in Amelia’s Magazine way back in Issue 5 (always the first to spot them, this right?). And I can still see her later, when she cut it to the blonde elfin crop that accompanied the release of debut album ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ and her relentless touring of festivals across the country. Now my height chart is nearing completion as Marling stands proud, and newly brunette, one foot firmly in womanhood with the release of ‘I Speak Because I Can’.

She’s come far in a short time but in a seemingly alternative parallel to a Disney teen queen (though with much less terrifying results), matured with a spotlight fixed on her. God forbid anyone should see the diary of my seventeen year-old self, let alone find it encapsulated on record forever. Was Marling’s choice to leave a song as popular as “New Romantic” off her debut, with its naturally youthful realism but occasionally awkward heartbreak over the guy that was ‘really fit’, her own attempt to leave the past behind? Despite audience calls for a live rendition, Marling has seldom appeased them. A stoic and determined diminutive figure would instead pick up her guitar and let silence fall as she let the charms of ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ wash over eager spectators. Standout efforts such as “Ghosts” and “Cross Your Fingers” showcased Marling’s capacity for creating songs that proved that a soft combination of pop and folk were a winning formula. Their galloping rhythms and sweet melodies were the perfect accompaniment for Marling’s now more abstract musings on matters of the heart, whilst her earthy, mesmerising voice drew comparisons to a younger Joni Mitchell and her ability to knit together the rhyme of her lyrics with such ease had you drawn in in a matter of minutes.

The accompanying success for such achievements could have easily short circuited the minds of most eighteen-year-olds. But Marling seems to be cut from a different cloth. The interim between releases saw Marling retreat from the so-called nu-folk scene dominated by artists such as Emmy the Great, Johnny Flynn and Noah & the Whale (her former band fronted by former boyfriend Charlie Fink) and begin work on a record that would mark her out among her contemporaries. ‘I Speak Because I Can’ does not necessarily have the same bouncy singalong charm of its predecessor but is a darker offering that shows Marling’s growth into an assured and headstrong artist.

Seemingly rising from the ground in a chatter of instruments tuning themselves to a perfect pitch, and faraway, fleeting glimpses of swelling calls, shouts and whispers are the heady introduction to “Devil’s Spoke”, the album opener. The stamping, hearty rhythm thunders with the power of Marling’s guitar, banjo and a booming devilish voice that proves Marling is truly the new powerhouse of her folk scene. “Devil’s Spoke” is a thundering overture that whips you into its whirlwind and is a perfect preamble to Marling’s adventures in her riveting world rich with images of lush English countryside and folklore tales. She hasn’t lost her touch for soaring vocals even amongst the rattle and hum grittiness, but as she advocates the curious joy of, “ripping off each other’s clothes in a most peculiar way,” we come to realise that the Marling on ‘I Speak Because I Can’ has learnt a few new things at the University of Life.

Marling doesn’t necessarily ever make it easy to work out what she’s saying; her imagery floats among a menagerie of characters, times and places all inextricably bound by the eternal dilemma of the feminine. With a transcendental quality akin to the writings of Virginia Woolf, Marling leads us from the damaged but resilient daughters (“Hope in the Air”) to the recovering lovelorn (“Rambling Man”). Her stories seem timeless in the context of her wholesome, charming melodies and bewitching lyricism. The strength of her strumming guitar beats out her message that, “I was who I am,” throughout “Rambling Man”, a song which seems to be the next evolution of Marling, the same strapping echoes of riffs, tumbling banjos and female vocals but with a more robust outlook that doesn’t seem to wallow in the helpless naivety that ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ tended towards. Plucked strings and tiptoe basslines give way to a ritualistic waltzing on “Alpha Shallows” and a woman who lets her words fly out in the pronouncement that she, “wants to be held by those arms”. Meanwhile, “Hope in the Air” presents Marling as our very own Sister Grimm, her song rising from a murky water of booming piano and plump ominous notes spilling from her guitar: “There is a man that I know/Seventeen years he never spoke/Guess he had nothing to say.” Marling’s voice rises in a battle cry for the losing battle of female emancipation, “There’s hope in the air/There’s hope in the water/But no hope for me, your last serving daughter”, that presents a dramatic urgency to her troubles. It can all seem a tad too much but if you let yourself become susceptible to the hypnotic and transportive quality of Laura Marling then you are, for a few minutes, taken somewhere else.

“Made by Maid” is a fine canvas for Marling to spread her art upon; a simple guitar that twists and turns on itself and her own silky but deceptively deep voice are the only tools she needs to showcase a talent that has come so far in the little time we have known her. A track that will undoubtedly become a cornerstone of Marling’s gorgeous live performances, “Made by Maid” is a touching postcard from the heart, floating through woods, river and from birth in a sweeping ride through the pastoral imagination. “Goodbye England (Covered in Snow)” takes us on the same trajectory in proud display of strong violins, gentle and delicately placed piano and bass that seems to melt the chill of the picture Marling paints. More hopeful and a nod to the fast-paced lyricism of the girl of the past, she lets her voice dip and soar over chipping riffs like a springtime bird. Similarly, “Blackberry Stone” is a chance for Marling to take centre stage to scorn those who, “never let her be.” A fluttering guitar and long warble of the violin back her add a delicacy and gentle hum to a story of sadness but smouldering, eternal strength.

Don’t worry though, Marling hasn’t entirely turned her back on the shimmering and catchy melodies that earned her a significant fan base; penultimate track “Darkness Descends” is a bouncy summer bike ride that you can ‘ohh’ and ‘ahh’ to in all the right places. Perhaps not entirely letting her hair down, Marling keeps a rein on things as, “the sun comes up…too bright for me,” but lets the pace slip back and forth at a rate that can only invite your toes to start tapping.

The title itself, ‘I Speak Because I Can’ is a statement of Marling’s headstrong autonomy and independence. Solitary reflection is the impetus of her new music rather than any kind of inflated sense of self associated with the kind of appraise Marling has received in recent years. Mercury Prize-nominated and a darling of the music press, Marling had every opportunity to produce an album that capitalised on the expectant audience clutching at the straws of ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’. Marling is brave for releasing a darker, reflective and at some points polemic album such as ‘I Speak Because I Can’, but this move can only help cement her reputation as a stalwart of English folk. Her delicate birdlike nature has bolstered itself to a heady mix of feminine charm and attack; she still has the gentle appeal but there’s suddenly a lot more substance. In her final incarnation and title track of the album Marling becomes the author of the retelling of the Greek tale of Odysseus and his wife, her imagination and ability to traverse time and space allows her to maintain a perceptive and warm comment on the most eternal of situations: heartbreak. Whilst ‘I Speak Because I Can’ showcases the same beguiling markings of her previous effort, Marling presents a record to be proud of because of its differences, its refusal to play to formula and its explosive creative expression. Perhaps part of me will miss the breathless rhymes and skippy beats but Marling was always going to grow up. Never giving too much away and trying on a variety of different personas, ‘I Speak Because I Can’ is proof that despite the long, sometimes painful and sadly always public journey, Marling has found a place in her powerfully evocative imagination to let us sit comfortably for a while and listen to what she has found.

Sometimes I can imagine a Laura Marling height chart on my wall. I’ve seen her as just a girl, approved the fresh-faced ponytailed pinnacle of the human pyramid she posed in for her first feature in Amelia’s Magazine way back in Issue 5 (always the first to spot them, help right?). And I can still see her later, ed when she cut it to the blonde elfin crop that accompanied the release of debut album ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ and her relentless touring of festivals across the country. Now my height chart is nearing completion as Marling stands proud, and newly brunette, one foot firmly in womanhood with the release of ‘I Speak Because I Can’.

She’s come far in a short time but in a seemingly alternative parallel to a Disney teen queen (though with much less terrifying results), matured with a spotlight fixed on her. God forbid anyone should see the diary of my seventeen year-old self, let alone find it encapsulated on record forever. Was Marling’s choice to leave a song as popular as “New Romantic” off her debut, with its naturally youthful realism but occasionally awkward heartbreak over the guy that was ‘really fit’, her own attempt to leave the past behind? Despite audience calls for a live rendition, Marling has seldom appeased them. A stoic and determined diminutive figure would instead pick up her guitar and let silence fall as she let the charms of ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ wash over eager spectators. Standout efforts such as “Ghosts” and “Cross Your Fingers” showcased Marling’s capacity for creating songs that proved that a soft combination of pop and folk were a winning formula. Their galloping rhythms and sweet melodies were the perfect accompaniment for Marling’s now more abstract musings on matters of the heart, whilst her earthy, mesmerising voice drew comparisons to a younger Joni Mitchell and her ability to knit together the rhyme of her lyrics with such ease had you drawn in in a matter of minutes.

The accompanying success for such achievements could have easily short circuited the minds of most eighteen-year-olds. But Marling seems to be cut from a different cloth. The interim between releases saw Marling retreat from the so-called nu-folk scene dominated by artists such as Emmy the Great, Johnny Flynn and Noah & the Whale (her former band fronted by former boyfriend Charlie Fink) and begin work on a record that would mark her out among her contemporaries. ‘I Speak Because I Can’ does not necessarily have the same bouncy singalong charm of its predecessor but is a darker offering that shows Marling’s growth into an assured and headstrong artist.

Seemingly rising from the ground in a chatter of instruments tuning themselves to a perfect pitch, and faraway, fleeting glimpses of swelling calls, shouts and whispers are the heady introduction to “Devil’s Spoke”, the album opener. The stamping, hearty rhythm thunders with the power of Marling’s guitar, banjo and a booming devilish voice that proves Marling is truly the new powerhouse of her folk scene. “Devil’s Spoke” is a thundering overture that whips you into its whirlwind and is a perfect preamble to Marling’s adventures in her riveting world rich with images of lush English countryside and folklore tales. She hasn’t lost her touch for soaring vocals even amongst the rattle and hum grittiness, but as she advocates the curious joy of, “ripping off each other’s clothes in a most peculiar way,” we come to realise that the Marling on ‘I Speak Because I Can’ has learnt a few new things at the University of Life.

Marling doesn’t necessarily ever make it easy to work out what she’s saying; her imagery floats among a menagerie of characters, times and places all inextricably bound by the eternal dilemma of the feminine. With a transcendental quality akin to the writings of Virginia Woolf, Marling leads us from the damaged but resilient daughters (“Hope in the Air”) to the recovering lovelorn (“Rambling Man”). Her stories seem timeless in the context of her wholesome, charming melodies and bewitching lyricism. The strength of her strumming guitar beats out her message that, “I was who I am,” throughout “Rambling Man”, a song which seems to be the next evolution of Marling, the same strapping echoes of riffs, tumbling banjos and female vocals but with a more robust outlook that doesn’t seem to wallow in the helpless naivety that ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ tended towards. Plucked strings and tiptoe basslines give way to a ritualistic waltzing on “Alpha Shallows” and a woman who lets her words fly out in the pronouncement that she, “wants to be held by those arms”. Meanwhile, “Hope in the Air” presents Marling as our very own Sister Grimm, her song rising from a murky water of booming piano and plump ominous notes spilling from her guitar: “There is a man that I know/Seventeen years he never spoke/Guess he had nothing to say.” Marling’s voice rises in a battle cry for the losing battle of female emancipation, “There’s hope in the air/There’s hope in the water/But no hope for me, your last serving daughter”, that presents a dramatic urgency to her troubles. It can all seem a tad too much but if you let yourself become susceptible to the hypnotic and transportive quality of Laura Marling then you are, for a few minutes, taken somewhere else.

“Made by Maid” is a fine canvas for Marling to spread her art upon; a simple guitar that twists and turns on itself and her own silky but deceptively deep voice are the only tools she needs to showcase a talent that has come so far in the little time we have known her. A track that will undoubtedly become a cornerstone of Marling’s gorgeous live performances, “Made by Maid” is a touching postcard from the heart, floating through woods, river and from birth in a sweeping ride through the pastoral imagination. “Goodbye England (Covered in Snow)” takes us on the same trajectory in proud display of strong violins, gentle and delicately placed piano and bass that seems to melt the chill of the picture Marling paints. More hopeful and a nod to the fast-paced lyricism of the girl of the past, she lets her voice dip and soar over chipping riffs like a springtime bird. Similarly, “Blackberry Stone” is a chance for Marling to take centre stage to scorn those who, “never let her be.” A fluttering guitar and long warble of the violin back her add a delicacy and gentle hum to a story of sadness but smouldering, eternal strength.

Don’t worry though, Marling hasn’t entirely turned her back on the shimmering and catchy melodies that earned her a significant fan base; penultimate track “Darkness Descends” is a bouncy summer bike ride that you can ‘ohh’ and ‘ahh’ to in all the right places. Perhaps not entirely letting her hair down, Marling keeps a rein on things as, “the sun comes up…too bright for me,” but lets the pace slip back and forth at a rate that can only invite your toes to start tapping.

The title itself, ‘I Speak Because I Can’ is a statement of Marling’s headstrong autonomy and independence. Solitary reflection is the impetus of her new music rather than any kind of inflated sense of self associated with the kind of appraise Marling has received in recent years. Mercury Prize-nominated and a darling of the music press, Marling had every opportunity to produce an album that capitalised on the expectant audience clutching at the straws of ‘Alas I Cannot Swim’. Marling is brave for releasing a darker, reflective and at some points polemic album such as ‘I Speak Because I Can’, but this move can only help cement her reputation as a stalwart of English folk. Her delicate birdlike nature has bolstered itself to a heady mix of feminine charm and attack; she still has the gentle appeal but there’s suddenly a lot more substance. In her final incarnation and title track of the album Marling becomes the author of the retelling of the Greek tale of Odysseus and his wife, her imagination and ability to traverse time and space allows her to maintain a perceptive and warm comment on the most eternal of situations: heartbreak. Whilst ‘I Speak Because I Can’ showcases the same beguiling markings of her previous effort, Marling presents a record to be proud of because of its differences, its refusal to play to formula and its explosive creative expression. Perhaps part of me will miss the breathless rhymes and skippy beats but Marling was always going to grow up. Never giving too much away and trying on a variety of different personas, ‘I Speak Because I Can’ is proof that despite the long, sometimes painful and sadly always public journey, Marling has found a place in her powerfully evocative imagination to let us sit comfortably for a while and listen to what she has found.
Basso & Brooke a/w 2010 by Katie Harnett
Basso & Brooke by Katie Harnett.

I was running late for this show due to the evil evil cocktails at the Laden Showrooms website launch party in the concrete house at the end of my street. (It’s on sale for £2.2 million. Nuts. I’ve been in there and it ain’t all that: it’s like the interior of a multi-storey carpark.)


The rooftop view from the house on Bacon Street, rx complete with poncey rainbow fibre optic light display.

As I hurtled into the courtyard of Somerset House I passed a girl I haven’t seen since I left the University of Brighton back in the mid 90s, so I sort of waved, aghast, at her. Inside I sat down next to a sniffy man who I once knew vaguely long ago, and who literally turned his nose up at me, and then turned his back. I don’t think I did smell but I probably was a little dishevelled. Cycling has a tendency to do that. I only spotted one other cyclist at the shows over the entire week. Funny that. But I tell you, it’s by far the quickest way to get between venues. Addison Lee eat your heart out.

I turned to the man on the other side of me, recognising in him a fellow twittering fiend as we tapped at our iphones (everyone in fashion has a blackberry), although god knows it was very hard to twitter from the official BFC tents because there was apparently very little 3G coverage. C’mon folks, sort it out! We formed an instant bond and swapped twitter addresses and I found out he runs the website Not Just a Label, bigging up young designers. Now that’s what I like, a spirit of camaraderie! And then I looked over and saw that beardy glam man was sat opposite me and that alone would have made my day. I’d love to know who he was – does anyone know? He even smiled at me during the show when he caught me looking at him rather than the clothes, and it made me tingle it did! He had the most elegant poise which I do so love. A couple of paps came strolling past me muttering about how they couldn’t be arsed to snap photos of the only sleb in the front row, the girl from the Noisettes, who is clearly not famous enough to earn a decent paycheck.

Basso & Brooke by Katie Harnett.
Basso & Brooke by Katie Harnett.

Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke. All photography by Amelia Gregory.

On our seats were long elegant cardboard bottle carriers decorated in an exclusive Basso & Brooke print for the Turning Leaf wine company. These will no doubt make collector’s items in years to come so it’s a pity I have so much crap in my house already – where the hell would I display a wine bottle? Perhaps I could stick a candle in it and come over all studenty/70s? Or maybe not. But it did slip down easy, even if I had to lug it around for the rest of the day.

Basso & Brooke by Katie Harnett.
Basso & Brooke by Katie Harnett.

Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.

The Basso & Brooke show was as fabulous as it always is – but there you go, give me a riot of clashing prints and colour and I’ll swoon at your feet. Slinky body-hugging dresses, over equally slim clashing or matching leggings were covered in their signature digital prints – once unique but now used by many a designer – made the models lizard-like yet glamourous. A tough call that one but it worked. What didn’t work so well was the way they all moved, arms splayed and hands held awkwardly out. I can only conclude that they were all chosen for their singularly inelegant walks, or that they were all told to stride this way. Why?!

Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.
Basso & Brooke by Amelia Gregory.

On leaving the show I bumped into my old college mate again, who was totally bemused by my presence at the shows. She was there purely in her capacity as senior designer at Monsoon “though I spend most of my time looking after my two kids these days.” She expressed surprise that I actually run Amelia’s Magazine, until she found out that I a childless. “Oh well that would explain it then. We used to keep those in the office for inspiration, I didn’t realise it was you.” What, not even with the prominent picture of me next to the introduction in every issue?

Basso & Brooke by Katie Harnett.
Basso & Brooke by Katie Harnett.

Isn’t it funny how people perceive you? (or don’t, as the case may be)
Interior of Red Bull Music Academy by-gemma-milly
The designer interior of the Red Bull Music Academy by Gemma Milly.

Since the Red Bull Music Academy rolled into town just over a month ago I have been pursued by their PR to blog about the whole shebang. Unfortunately timings could not have been worse and whilst I have been concentrating on London Fashion Week the great and good of the electronic music world have been gathering in force to take part in this most singular of events. It therefore seems strangely fitting that I should finally publish my edit of the Steve Reich lecture that I attended on Tuesday 16th February on the very same day that it finally finishes.

If you live in London you cannot have escaped the presence of the Red Bull Music Academy, salve mainly in the form of their lovingly produced daily newspaper, page the Daily Note, which has been handed out at tube and train stations across London with the same zeal as the Evening Standard every single day since it started. I absolutely cannot begin to imagine how much it must have cost to assemble the staff to put together such a fast turnaround daily paper, let alone pay the folk that stand around in the street to hand it out.

Red Bull Music Academy interior
Inside a recording studio in the Red Bull Music Academy. I’ve got that G-Plan coffee table in my living room. Cost a tenner at a car boot sale.
All interior photos courtesy of Red Bull.

The amount spent on producing the Daily Note must pale into insignificance when compared with how much money has been poured into the actual Red Bull Music Academy itself – which is a mammoth venture that rolls into a different country every year. This isn’t just a fancy name for a bunch of club nights that the general public can attend (though it is that too), but does exactly what it says on the tin and is an actual academy where actual students can learn from the maestros of electronic music. Sixty carefully selected students from across the world have been whisked into central London, where they’ve been given free accommodation and food for the duration of their stay. At the academy, which is located in the Red Bull headquarters a stone’s throw from the London Dungeon in Bermondsey, they are treated to an amazing roster of talks and tutorials laid on by eminent musicians, producers, DJs and composers, all apparently giving their time for free to further the education of this talented bunch. The emphasis is on electronic and urban music, and on genres which are not usually championed by the establishment, so most of the names featured in the bulging programme will not be familiar to anyone but the geekiest music bod within that particular musical subcategory.

Red Bull Music Academy interior
Red Bull Music Academy interior

The amount of effort, let alone the money, that has been put into this venture is literally staggering. In the designer-decorated headquarters the skeletal office staff have been shunted into the top floors and the bottom few have been converted into something that would not look out of place on a reality show – featuring trendy young things lounging on plush sofas next to speccy music impresarios, a sparkling free cafe, pristine recording suites and buzzing glass walled rooms full of earnest Red Bull Music Academy staff. It is hard to fathom why such a big brand would so entirely align themselves with such a niche sub genre of music, but then this has got to be the most epic “anti-marketing” campaign I’ve ever known. Because no matter how lovingly those Daily Notes are put together I can’t believe many are actually more than skim read by some knackered commuter, and the vast majority will no doubt have been tossed straight into the bin by the mass public who just doesn’t care about this event or the music it champions. Will the Red Bull Music Academy, the busy events schedule or the Daily Note increase sales of Red Bull? Who knows, but for those lucky enough to be taking part as academy students it is surely a life changing opportunity.

Bruna-Sonar-PT-1
bRUNA creating live music with a laptop.

It has to be said that the vast catalogue of acts involved aren’t really my cup of tea – I veer somewhat more on the indie side of life – but I decided to go along to the Sonar Pt 1 taster at the Roundhouse on Friday 5th March, where I then struggled to find something suited to my decidedly more indie/dance tastes. Upstairs what I heard as boos for the headline act were actually calls for hip hop legend Doom. DOOM! Downstairs I discovered something much more to my liking in the form of Red Bull Academy graduate bRUNA, a former lawyer from Spain. Unfortunately he wasn’t exactly what the earnest hip-hop heads had came for and the small room soon emptied. When I stayed on with my male partner bRUNA’s concerned girlfriend came over to check whether we really were there because we liked bRUNA’s cute Euro electro (we did). Or I should say: she came over and checked in with Tim. How funny that sexism should rear it’s ugly head in such a setting. Such was my ire that I did say to her pointedly – actually it’s me you want to be talking to.

I have only recently been inducted into the wonders of Steve Reich, but the event that looked most up my street was a lecture by this influential composer. And so it was that I found myself in the lecture theatre of the Red Bull Music Academy on a very rainy Tuesday afternoon. Read on to find out what Steve Reich revealed to his students…

Categories ,Bermondsey, ,bRUNA, ,Daily Note, ,Doom, ,Electronic music, ,electronica, ,G-Plan, ,Hip-hop, ,Lecture, ,Red Bull Music Academy, ,Roundhouse, ,Sonar, ,spain, ,Steve Reich

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | Red Bull Music Academy: Steve Reich lecture Q&A from students

Illustration by Gemma Milly
Illustration by Gemma Milly.

Steve Reich gave a very inspiring lecture to the students of the 2010 Red Bull Music Academy (which you can read here). Afterwards he took a series of questions from the floor and I’ve tried to transcribe the answers as best I can on this blog, viagra 100mg because they were an intriguing bunch:

How do you balance the listenability of your music with what you want to create?
When I write I’m alone in the music, and my theory is if I love it I hope you do too, but I think it’s valid to question listenability if you’re writing a jingle. It’s not the same with a fine art composition. People are intuitively smart about music so you can’t fool them – they will smell a rat [if your music doesn’t come from the heart].

How easy is it to get into composition if you’re not classically trained?
Sometimes you can see shapes in music and follow them. My son got Pro Tools and everything changed because he suddenly saw what he was doing and the eye got involved in addition to the ear. It changes your perspective when you can see the music you are composing. I work with Sibelius; it’s easy to learn the basics but you should ask yourself – will it be useful? Will it help you?

Are you interested in audio illusions?
Well I haven’t used phasing since the 70s but [having said that] my entire arsenal of equipment is Macbook Pro, Sibelius and Reason. My new piece will feature speech samples from 9/11and they are triggered from a notation programme. I also wanted to create the equivalent in sound of stop action in a film, and something called granular synthesis can stop a sound anywhere, even on a consonant – “I saw a fishhhhhhhh…..” – it does a fantastic job of it.

Of course the audience want to know more about his new project…
During 9/11 I was living on Broadway, four blocks from Ground Zero. My son and grandkids were in the apartment when it happened, and I won’t go into details but it was terrifying but basically our neighbours saved my family. I didn’t do anything about it but a year ago I realised I had unfinished business and so I’m in the middle of a new piece based on the Jewish tradition whereby you don’t leave a body before it’s buried. These women didn’t know what parts were in the tents [at Ground Zero] but they came down and said psalms 24 hours a day.

I worry that I’m saying something flippant now, but how did you describe your music in the early days?
Hey, lighten up, they got London once so let’s hope they’re not back in a hurry!
It’s not important what you call your music: journalists want a label, but they’ll invent something anyway so it doesn’t matter. Philip Glass called it repetitive music. I don’t like ‘minimal’ but it’s better than trance or some other things. If a journalist ever pushes you on this say ‘wash out your mouth, it’s your job to write the next piece’. Don’t put yourself in a box – it’s someone else’s job to do that. Be polite though, and don’t make enemies if you don’t have to.

What is the process when you start writing? And how much has it changed?
Oh boy! I briefly did pieces for orchestra, and they were by far not my best works; they were too phat. I learnt that in the late 80s, so since the beginning, minus a little break, I have written for ensemble, e.g. six pianos. I want identical pairs of instruments. Before Music for 18 Musicians I used rhythmic melodic pattern, like drumming on a phone but then I thought what happens if if I worked things out harmonically and it really worked, so I continued. I start with a harmonic super structure, which before computers was done on a multi track tape. I’ve always worked in real sound, not in my head. I’m a crippled man, I have to hear it! In the mid 80s I got a grant and bought a Tascam 8 track, which weighed a tonne, but I used it for the next ten years until midi appeared. Different Trains was composed on a Mac which was easy. No, that’s a complete lie, it crashed every 15 seconds! I invent harmonic movements that don’t come intuitively, which is a bit like hanging onto a horse for dear life [to keep control]. All the details are done on computer but there is a lot of garbage. My trash can runneth over!

How do you advise moving from the creation of songs to symphonies or longer works?
It’s usually a mess when pop musicians try to do that – for example I would never advise Radiohead to write a symphony – they’re geniuses anyway so why bother. Anyone who doesn’t recognise that is mad. But if you are really serious about it it may mean going to music school to get the practical knowledge, which could be a laborious series of years.

Do you think it’s better to concentrate on emotion or concept?
Bach was the greatest improviser of his day but I’m not much of one so the bedrock of anything I’ve ever done has rested on musical intuition. How does it sound on Monday, Tuesday, next month? Does it keep sounding good?

And with that there is a standing ovation for this most revered of modern composers. I think there’s a room full of people here who will go away and reappraise the oeuvre of Steve Reich if they haven’t already done so.

Categories ,Bach, ,Broadway, ,classical, ,Gemma Milly, ,Ground Zero, ,improvisation, ,Macbook, ,Minimalist music, ,Orchestra, ,Philip Glass, ,pop, ,radiohead, ,Reason, ,Red Bull Music Academy, ,Sibelius, ,Steve Reich

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | Red Bull Music Academy: Steve Reich Lecture on Tuesday 16th February 2010

Steve Reich by Gemma Milly
Steve Reich by Gemma Milly
Steve Reich by Gemma Milly.

Steve Reich is a seriously cult figure for contemporary beats based music. Famed for his minimalist compositions from the 60s onwards he continues to be active today and even though I’ve heard he can be a difficult old bugger to interview, erectile at 74 years of age he was charming and lucid when he gave his lecture to the students of the 2010 Red Bull Music Academy.

Red Bull Music Academy lecture theatre.
Red Bull Music Academy lecture theatre.

I skirted into the back of the packed lecture theatre just as he was starting – and I use the term ‘lecture theatre’ lightly because we are talking the most comfortable lecture theatre you ever saw. Designer arm chairs stuffed with colour co-ordinated cushions were orientated around a sofa interview area above which hung the distinctive Red Bull coat of arms, if you will. Emma “rabbit” Warren, who I’ve known since I was an intern at The Face over a decade ago, was tasked with asking the questions – over the years she has carved a niche for herself in this particular music scene and acts as a “team member” for the academy.

emma-warren-gemma-milly
Emma Warren by Gemma Milly.

What follows is by no means a direct transcription of the interview, but an edited version that I hope will make sense to not only those who attended the lecture but anyone who is interested in finding out more about what makes Steve Reich tick. It was certainly an education for me.

Steve Reich‘s musical career started with piano lessons and then the study of drums at the age of 14. This conversation began with his move to San Francisco in 1962 where he decided to become a cabbie so that he wouldn’t have to teach. Emma asked whether it was hard to make music around his day job. “Night job,” he corrected her. “Necessity is the mother of invention – I coulda taught harmony and theory in Nebraska but I’d had it up to here with the academic world.” He saw how his friends became beaten down. “In my time almost all the composers in the US were in universities because that was the easiest job to get but I’m sure that now even being a DJ will be turned into academic trash. But you need to put a lot of energy into teaching and I think if you can’t then that’s immoral, and if you do then you’re gonna be too wiped out to make music.” Surely a sage piece of advice to anyone considering juggling teaching with a successful artistic career. “I had a good time driving the cab and I wasn’t invested in it – it really fit me and was making more money than most musical professors too!”

Unfortunately he wasn’t a cab driver for long: “I inched forward and bumped into someone and ended up working in a post office.” Emma asked if this was an influential period – down amongst the sounds of the ‘street’. “I don’t know how true that would be. All music comes from a time and place. I come from New York, the West Coast, during the 1960s and 70s.” New York was a noisy place to be. “I used to wander around with earplugs in.” He attributes his early experimentations with loops and phasing on a tape machine to such ideas being “in the air” during that period. “You are who you are and your music will bear evidence to the honesty of the situation.”

In the early 60s the Cuban Missile Crisis got everyone “kinda concerned… we felt the clock was ticking. The crisis passed but it made its mark.” In 1964 he recorded Brother Walter in Union Square preaching about the flood and created seminal work “It’s Gonna Rain” where he made use of the sounds without focusing on their meaning. “Do you hear the ‘wap wap’ in the background? That’s the wings of a pigeon, a pigeon drummer.” He described at length how he played around with the sounds, feeding them through mono into stereo and then back again, to offset the source material and create the pioneering phasing technique that has influenced many contemporary composers since. Because he cut the tape loops by hand there was always going to be a bit of drift, creating a “sense of direction”. He gleefully describes how the sound “slides across your testicles, it’s really creepy! You can feel the vibration, and then it gets to one ear sooner than the other.” He found it intriguing that he could splice things together to make sounds that resembled the beats found in African music. “I thought – what have I got here? Mechanised Africans!” The piece becomes progressively more spooky and paranoid in feel. “We’re in the ark, locking the door, it’s the end of the world… a betrayal in sound.” Lest we doubt this sudden moribund turn he confirms, “Yes, I was in a bad state of mind at the time and given what was going on in the world.”

steve-reich & Emma Warren by gemma-milly
Steve Reich & Emma Warren in conversation by Gemma Milly.

A trip to Ghana in 1971 to study music was a key turning point. “All music there was a religiously, politically or historically orientated part of everyday life.” Whilst there he managed to contract malaria by picking up 100s of bites on his sandalled feet, despite a dose of anti-malarials. He realised that music was a form of communication that families were morally obliged to upkeep, but laughed that he met a Ghanaian man many years later who was no longer interested in “grandpa’s music”. Tastes change all over the world.

But Steve was keen not to fall into the trap of trying to adopt African music wholesale. “Many people from my generation drowned in India – it’s like an ocean containing thousands of years of music and as an individual it’s hard to make any sense out of it.” He bought some gang gangs in Ghana – iron bells that are used to accompany songs with a beautiful rattle. “They’re not that big, and I bought six of them. I thought I would use them in my music, but I don’t have perfect pitch and I was like ‘what do I do? They don’t sound right, should I get out the metal file?’ But then I felt like they would be saying ‘hi, I’m a gang gang, pleased to meet you,’ if I used them in my music. I am not an African and they carry the weight of a culture that’s not mine – so I had to think about what I had learnt that could travel, and that was the structure.”

He returned keen to play around with rhythmical complexity of the kind that is used in jazz such as the big band classic Africa/Brass by Coltrane. “It sounds like elephants coming through the jungle for half an hour, there’s no harmonic movement and yet it’s definitely not boring!” He concluded that there was tension and intensity precisely because there was no change. “In Shotgun by Junior Walker you’re waiting for another section, but there is no other section. There was something in the air [during that period] and it was harmonic stasis – even Bob Dylan was experimenting with one chord. It was coming in from other sources outside the west; the structural idea of a canon as an empty vessel that can travel anywhere.”

1971 was also the last year that Steve used the looped tape phasing technique, although he was keen not to be rude about laptop music in a room full of predominantly electronic musicians. “My live ideas came from a machine because all divisions are permeable.” Yet he felt trapped by gadgetry. “I felt like ‘I can’t leave this thing and I can’t do it live!’ I didn’t want to be a little tape maker.” The fact remains that he sees synthesisers and their ilk primarily as a means to an end. “I like the analogue sound so I was excited when the sampler was invented.” He felt liberated and exhilarated once he was able to say “look ma, no tape!” and started teaching ensembles to play his compositions live without the aid of traditional musical notation. Since then his music has got progressively more complex and he has always toured with a close clique of live musicians that he’s worked with for many years. “We’re the gold standard but other generations have picked it up. For instance the musicians in Riga in Latvia burnt Music for 18 Musicians right down into the ground.” Nowadays he uses midi mockups of live compositions to send out for performers to learn across the world.

Emma asked if there was some benefit in musicians learning his compositions without the benefit of written musical scores. “When music began we can speculate that there was no notation. Even early notation is in question. Notation as we know it started during the 10th and 11th centuries in the West – to save music for posterity. There were little pockets where people wrote things down, such as some isolated forms in Indonesia, but it was a marginal thing.” He concluded that notated music has only ever formed a very small part of all the music created worldwide and wonders if it even has a future. “Nowadays the normal position for walking down the street is like this,” he says, standing, head down, arm up, as if his mobile is in his hand. “It won’t be without it’s consequences…”

Steve believes that folk music can be used to describe whatever we interact with that’s around us, and can spontaneously arise in any culture. “Pop music is the folk music of our culture so in some sense electronics are the folk instrument of our time.” We’d come to the end of the guided lecture time, and sat in awed silence as Steve Reich played arguably his most famous piece, Music for 18 Musicians, through the huge lecture PA system… that is until an abrupt technical glitch snapped us all out of our reverie. “Anyone know how this thing works?!” asked Steve, frustratedly betraying his technophobery.

Find out how Steve answered a series of very well thought out questions from the floor in the next blog

Categories ,60s, ,70s, ,Coltrane, ,dj, ,Electronic music, ,Elephants, ,Emma Warren, ,Gemma Milly, ,ghana, ,jazz, ,Junior Walker, ,Minimalist music, ,Orchestras, ,Philip Glass, ,Red Bull Music Academy, ,sampling, ,San Francisco, ,Steve Reich, ,The Face

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | Andreya Triana: Something Like a Phenomenon

Climate Camp 2010-serving dinner
Climate Camp 2010-nature doesnt
All photography by Amelia Gregory unless otherwise stated.

Over the past few years I have become increasingly embedded in the process of Climate Camp, web so I am well aware that the run up to this year’s Climate Camp has been more fraught with difficulties than ever – but as a spectacularly open grassroots non-heirarchical direct action organisation we would be the first to acknowledge this fact. We argued long and hard about whether RBS was an appropriate target for this year’s activities, case and we picked our spot without really checking in with Scottish activists who were not present at the meeting, website like this thereby alienating some of our allies… so it’s a testament to the movement we’ve created that I left the Edinburgh camp feeling that Climate Camp, whatever nebulous thing that might be, is stronger than ever. We may not have grown in numbers but there has been a definite increase in the quality of active participation and we are slowly becoming more diverse too – there was a notable improvement in our age, class and racial make up this year, though we still have a long way to go.

Climate Camp 2010-camp life
Climate Camp 2010-scene

And we were successful – we didn’t for one moment imagine that we would make the same kind of splash in the national media as we have in other more southern based years (journalists are notoriously bad at travelling for any kind of story: witness the lack of press surrounding our extremely successful Ratcliffe on Soar action in October 2009) but we certainly made big news in the Scottish press, we did loads of outreach and best of all WE GOT IN THE WAY. We shut shit down and generally made a nuisance of ourselves that served to highlight climate and community wrecking investments in tar sands, open cast coal and biofuels. We’ve cost RBS and the companies it funds a certain amount of money and reputation, and we’ve got people talking.

Climate Camp 2010-welcome
Climate Camp 2010-setting up site
Setting up site.

So, back to the beginning. I was part of the initial Land Grab on Wednesday evening…. which meant taking two days to get up to Scotland and not at any point giving away our whereabouts. On arrival at our destination we scrambled through fields in search of the huge seven tonne truck that transports our big marquee poles, already parked in the middle of the manicured lands that belong to the RBS HQ. From there I walked into the adjoining field and marvelled at our audacity, for we’ve never been this close to our target before. There it was, the HQ lit up like a giant christmas tree well into the night, rumoured to be so large that it supports its very own supermarket. It seemed almost impossible that with only a hundred people we might take this second field too, but take it we did because soon people were trundling around with wheelbarrows full of tat (an all encompassing word to describe all the stuff we need to run a camp). From the top of the man made mound we could see right into the glass walled HQ, where bored workers were no doubt entertained by us for a few days before RBS decreed they should work from home.

YouTube Preview Image

By the time I got up the next morning the site was already humming with activity and new campers who had joined us over the course of the night when they heard about our location via text and twitter. This year’s site, as well as being the cheekiest we have ever taken was also the most beautiful, and abundant with wildlife: mice, frogs and lots and lots of slugs. It’s long layout did however put paid to the permaculture plans we have adhered to in previous years, and necessitated a long walk from one end to the other.

Climate Camp 2010-set up

My role at Climate Camp has settled into a bit of a routine – taking photos, video and twittering. It leaves precious little time for physical work around site and I’m usually to be found in the media tent or rushing around on an action. We had incredibly bad reception on this site, and I soon became friendly with the Comms tent which was sited on the top of the hill and had a better 3G signal. For those of you who don’t know what I’m wittering on about, Comms refers to our defence and communications system which works by collating information from people on all the gates around site. It’s a 24 hour a day job and this year it was skill shared in a most impressive way for the first time.

Climate Camp 2010-media team
Some of the media team.

I think we’d all been fearful that this camp would be much less well attended than previous ones, but by Friday I estimate that there were almost 1000 people on site, and it felt as though they were all there for a purpose. At Blackheath last year we really focused on outreach and both that and our location ensured rather a lot of sightseeing which unfortunately meant that direct action took a major back seat to workshops. This time the workshops timetable was slimmer, and from early on there was a notable amount of small affinity groups planning direct action in the tall grass. This I think is a good development. And take direct action we did – every day. Here are some of the best actions I took part in:

Climate Camp 2010-refugee camp

1. Taking the land, obviously.
The biggest direct action of them all – it’s hard not to be nervous with an action like this on which the rest of Climate Camp depends. We stopped in at some charity shops for entertaining cut price CDs on our way northwards, and as we drove towards our swooping point we played the Star Wars theme tune at top volume. Despite our huge truck and noisy scrambling it took the police at least half an hour to arrive, by which time we were able to hold the space and had started erecting tents by torchlight. It did, however, mean that the advertised swoop the next day was a bit of a damp squib, and some of the participants must have felt a bit left out of all the excitement.

Climate Camp 2010-site take
Erecting the first marquees on site by torchlight.

2. Raising a Ruckus
On Friday we held a merry little dance parade around the RBS offices, culminating in an incursion into a conveniently open entrance where we jumped up and down in the doorway whilst security looked bemused and staff gazed down from the floors above. At the same time, unbeknownst to us, a lone activist had infiltrated the offices as a banker and stuck herself to a reception desk, where she berated RBS for agreeing to fund Vedanta’s mining activities on the sacred lands of the Dongria Kondh tribe in India. We later learnt that she had changed her name to Dongria Kondh by deed poll the week before, declaring that she would only change it back if RBS retracted funding. Fortunately it was announced this week that India has blocked the mining operation. Though I quite like Dongria Kondh as a name….

Climate Camp rouser
Climate Camp rouser door
YouTube Preview Image

3. A Lady Gaga tribute: the Dirty Oil dance action
Conscious of Climate Camp’s decision to descend on Scotland without much forethought about how we could support local struggles I volunteered to attend the solidarity demo against a new coal mine at Cousland, but then I was reminded that I had also promised to document my Green Kite Midnight friends’ musical action. Lady Gaga won out in the end. Standing inside a small candy striped marquee we learnt new lyrics to Poker Face, featuring the immortal lines:

It’s getting hot, the planet’s nearly shot
We’ll make them stop, we’re putting up a block

Tar sands is dirty oil
Can’t use my, can’t use my taxes no
To invest in dirty oil

Climate Camp 2010-gaga rehearsal
Climate Camp 2010-Dirty Oil
Rehearsing dance moves and getting ready to leave.

By midday we were ready to take our act to the streets of Edinburgh. With black bin bag bows in hair and fluorescent waistcoats we marched with resolve towards the biggest branch of RBS on St Andrews Square…. to find it already closed. Closed by the threat of song and dance. Score! We then set off on a tour through the town centre, jumping an RBS fringe stage for a special ten minute non-sponsored rendition. You can watch this here. We taught some onlookers the dance moves, bumped into the Greenwash Guerillas en route and handed out loads of leaflets.

Climate Camp 2010-Dirty Oil Gaga
Climate Camp 2010-Dirty Oil Gaga-on steps
Climate Camp 2010-Dirty Oil Gaga-fringe stage
Crowds watch us at the Fringe
Climate Camp 2010-fringe audience
and the Greenwash Guerillas…
Climate Camp 2010-Greenwash Guerillas

4. Sunday site incursion
I knew there were plans afoot but I wasn’t quite prepared for the huge mass of people dancing towards me in white paper boiler suits. And then they carried on dancing their way over the bridge to RBS, pushing the police back with ease and racing around the corner towards an unguarded part of the RBS HQ. When I got there it became apparent that they had completely taken the police by surprise and several windows had been smashed as the morass propelled forward. For a short moment chaos reigned as the police tried and failed to contain the seething crowd (who needs Black Bloc when you’ve got White Bloc, as one twitterer noted) and they were successfully able to de-arrest several people.

RBS site incursion march
RBS site incursion
RBS site invasion tussle
RBS Sunday invasion

Unfortunately this short point of panic enabled the police to gain the upper hand, and if the intention had been to get in and hold the building we had lost the head start. After two arrests there was a brief stand off with police at the bridge and the action petered out, the white garbed frontline on the bridge replaced by a large white fluffy bunny. I kid thee not.

Climate Camp 2010-white bunny

At our evening plenary a dampener was put on the situation almost immediately. Unfortunately the action had been badly timed to coincide with a speech from our visiting tar sands activists, who had felt seriously disrespected by the disruption to their workshop. They were also uncomfortable with the apparent violence of smashing windows, as were a few others. Through skilful facilitation we were able to talk through these issues, with many good points being made that Climate Camp comprises a diverse range of people who use different tactics, and whilst we would never ever condone physical violence against people, corporate property is another matter altogether. All successful direct action campaigns have attacked physical infrastructure, from the Suffragettes to the 1990s road protest movement. Causing infrastructure damage hits a company where it hurts: their pockets.

Climate Camp 2010-meeting
An early site-wide meeting.

We’ve always been very careful with our language, although the media often insists on referring to us as “peaceful” or NVDA (Non Violent Direct Action). In another twist seasoned activists have levelled many criticisms at us over the past few years with regards to us being too media friendly. For many this action proved that we really are capable of doing more than the media stunts and banner drops of recent times. It was also acknowledged that whilst we could sympathise with the feelings of First Nations activists it could not dictate the way that Climate Camp works, and indeed whilst we should work hard at international bonds we should not deify indigenous peoples above our local communities. We finished the meeting with a euphoric group hug that seemed to express: Yes! We are powerful together! We can break through police lines and inflict serious physical damage to a building! With a bit more intent we could have got into the HQ and dug in for the duration: of that I have no doubt.

5. The RBS Trojan Pig leaking molasses outside Cairn Energy offices
At just past 9am I dropped my half drunk tea and ran full tilt out of the cafe where I had been sitting on Lothian Road. Ahead of me a group of people in black ceremoniously carried a large pink pig – eyes painted with the RBS logo – up the impressive granite steps of the offices for Cairn Energy, who received £117 million in loans from RBS last year, some of which helped them to start drilling for oil off the coast of Greenland. Two activists sprayed molasses against the side of the building in decorative swirls as more molasses seeped out of the pig and down the steps. A security guard briefly looked on, but never moved the large pink carcass which was reported later that day as forlornly pushed aside on the steps. Ironically it is only because of climate change and melting ice that Cairn Energy are able to drill in the polar regions as new oil reserves are revealed. By coincidence a Greenpeace ship reached the drill rig on our day of action, where it was met by a Danish warship. It is hoped that lots of activists will join Crude Awakening, a day of mass action against oil supported by Climate Camp on Saturday October 16th in London.

Cairn Trojan Pig parade
Cairn Trojan Pig molasses
YouTube Preview Image

6. Shutting down Nicolson Street branch of RBS
The weather was not kind to us on our main day of action, and getting lost en route to my next destination didn’t help. By just after 10am I was soaked through to the skin. Across the entrance to Nicolson Street RBS three of my friends glued themselves together with green posters pinned to their fronts that said “Ask me why I won’t bank with RBS“. As customers arrived they engaged them in conversation and then let them duck under their arms. With musicians and a small gaggle of Lady Gaga impersonators I went inside to be greeted by an old man grumbling bad-temperedly at the counter. He then proceeded to watch several reprises of the Dirty Oil song and dance routine, by now familiar to all. Next up was a reinvigorated version of the Gloria Gaynor classic I Will Survive, and as we moved outside the police finally arrived. I went to upload some tweets and when I returned journalists and photographers were out in force and the branch had been closed. Later that day another bunch of activists dressed in bin bags and dripping in molasses closed down the same branch.

Climate Camp 2010-Nicholson-RBS
Climate Camp 2010-Nicholson-RBS 2

7. We’ve built a Rhino Siege Tower!
Yes really. At the top of the hill above RBS what looked like a watch tower had risen during the course of the camp, gaining painted corrugated metal sides and a roof. And perhaps best of all a huge paper mache Rhino head attached to it’s derriere. I got back from the mornings actions to find a huge gaggle of people surrounding the tower, all dressed in wonderful outfits, inspired by medieval battle, clowns, animals and pagan dress. And then we waited…. and waited… and joked about slow action being the new slow food movement. Finally, we were ready to roll. The siege tower was on wheels. And with people guiding it via a series of ropes and pulleys it began to inch it’s way around the wind break and down the hill as we all held our breath and prayed that it didn’t topple into the bank of photographers waiting below. This process took about four hours, by which time I’d long since stopped worrying that I would miss anything crucial every time I went to recharge my damn iphone again. Over at the bridge a series of mollassapaults were fired onto the HQ by black clad activists. And then as we finally crawled towards the gate the rain really set in. Dancing animals met lines of riot police and squirted silly string over their heads as the Siege Tower finally cleared a low hanging branch and the rhino headbutted a police van.

Climate Camp Rhino Seige Tower
Climate Camp 2010-scary clown
Climate Camp 2010-Seige Rhino-hits van

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a line of riot cops so bemused. What the hell were we doing? On the side of the tower There Is No Planet B had been painted over at some point during the long journey to say There Is No Plan. My camera decided to complain about the incessant rain. It packed up. I decided to call it a day, and soon so did many soggy others. The Guardian’s live blog had long since stopped reporting on our actions of the day since most of them were done in the morning – including a very brilliant banner drop off the roof of Forth Energy in Leith in protest of a new and huge biomass scheme that would require the mass importation of vast quantities of wood chip.

Climate Camp 2010-Seige Rhino-frontline
Climate Camp 2010-Seige Rhino-sillystring
mollassapault tim morozzo
The mollassapault. Photography by Tim Morozzo.

And so, we didn’t give the mainstream media the huge action they might have liked. Instead we gave them lots of small and effective affinity group actions across Edinburgh and beyond, as planned. Topped off with the most surreal action of them all – a Rhino Siege Tower that effectively closed down the RBS HQ merely through creative farce and the power of suggestion. Sometimes my heart is so full of love for the thing that is Climate Camp that it feels fit to burst.

Climate Camp 2010-Seige Rhino

Other highlights of this years’ camp included a storming ceilidh (apologies to the Scottish for making this word our own) with my band Green Kite Midnight, spoken word from Harry Giles, visits from Fringe comedians Albie Philbin Bowman and Josie Long, and dancing long into the night after our day of action. Despite all the trials and tribulations of being so involved with Climate Camp I can’t wait to see what we come up with next. Even if we didn’t Break the Banks you’ve got to admit it was a damn good slogan, and we’ve successfully managed to highlight the investment of our money in fossil fuels to a far wider public. Now we just need to change the system that encourages wanton consumption of fossil fuels to the wide scale detriment of the only planet we have to live on. Who’s up for helping out?

You can watch lots more of the videos that I took on my Qik channel here.

Climate Camp 2010-Albie Philbin Bowman
Albie Philbin Bowman performs for us.

Many other inspiring actions happened across the course of the camp, but these did not include the supposed oil spill on the A8 on Monday morning, as press released by the police. Our targets have always been corporations and the government not innocent people, but isn’t it somehow predictable that the press picked up on the “oil spill” so relentlessly – happy to reel it off as fact without adequate research or proof. More on how the press have related to this year’s Climate Camp in my next blog post.

Climate Camp 2010-compost loos
A beautiful painted compost loo.
Climate Camp 2010-anarchist baby
Climate Camp 2010-RBS bridge
Climate Camp 2010-bunny

Back in 2007, approved experimental hip hop pioneer Flying Lotus released the Reset EP, remedy which was met with critical acclaim largely due to the outstanding track Tea Leaf Dancers. The stunning fusion of glitchy hip hop and progressive soul remains the LA producer’s most popular song to date, thanks in no small part to a stunning vocal accompaniment that gave the track a melancholy, love-ridden feel. Those sultry, elegiac vocals were provided by London born singer-songwriter Andreya Triana and this year marks the release of her exceptional debut album Lost Where I Belong.
Triana began her musical journey at the age of fourteen when her family moved from south east London to the West Midlands, a move that that left her feeling cut off from society. “I grew up in Brixton,” begins the singer. “It was so culturally diverse, and then I moved to a predominantly white, middle class area so I felt quite isolated. I just started spending a lot of time in my room, writing poetry and making songs.”
After years of honing her song writing abilities, good fortune shone down on Triana when she was selected from thousands of applicants to attend the prestigious Red Bull Music Academy. “I became obsessed with getting in,” says Triana, with wide eyed excitement that suggests she is still in mild disbelief that she was chosen. “When I found out I got in I screamed the house down!”

It was here that Triana met up with Flying Lotus and the duo created what would become Tea Leaf Dancers, even though she had no idea who she was actually working with at the time. “I didn’t really know anything about his music,” admits Triana. “It’s crazy thinking about it all of these years later. There were about thirty of us collaborating and that was only one of hundreds of collaborations.”
Despite the success of Tea Leaf Dancers, Triana would not get the opportunity to prove her worth as a solo artist until several years later when a chance meeting with downtempo trip hop artist Bonobo changed her life forever. “Bonobo and I had a lot of mutual friends,” says the singer, now residing in Brighton. “I heard that he needed a singer for one of his tracks, I came on board and it just developed from there. I wasn’t really that familiar with his music.”
The result was The Keeper, a beautifully laid back soul classic that is reminiscent of Jill Scott at her most poignant. This collaboration would develop into a beautiful working relationship where the pair would bounce ideas off one another until each lovingly-crafted track on Triana’s debut album was complete. “I wrote the songs with a guitar and I would come up with the harmonies,” she advises. “With Bonobo, it’s like I brought the bare bones and he brought them to life. It was really fun.”
Even though Triana has been fortunate enough to work with two of the world’s leading electronic music producers, she is adamant that both happened as a result of good luck. “None of it was pre-determined,” states Triana. “I didn’t work with Bonobo because he is a massive producer. It was because he was a good friend and I feel really comfortable with him.”

In person, Triana is every bit as captivating and endearing as the music she creates. Taking a break from signing promotional copies of Lost Where I Belong in the Ninja Tune headquarters, the singer advises: “The whole time I was doing the album, I was just praying that it would touch people. It’s nice when people come up to me and tell me that they really felt a certain song.”
Triana’s breathtaking brand of neo soul seems destined to captivate audiences in dimly lit, basement jazz bars throughout the world and her abstract lyricism means that her music has the ability to take on many different meanings. With over nine thousand followers on Myspace, Triana has over double the amount of fans as label mate and 2009 Mercury Prize winner Speech Debelle, and this is before her album has even been released. This beautiful lady seems to be on the verge of a cult phenomenon.
Lost Where I Belong is out now via Ninja Tune.

Categories ,Andreya Triana, ,Bonobo, ,brighton, ,Brixton, ,Erykah Badu, ,Jill Scott, ,london, ,Neo Soul, ,Ninja Tune, ,Red Bull Music Academy, ,soul, ,Speech Debelle

Similar Posts: