Of all the legs i’ve walked so far, this was by far the most boring. I coughed up near £15 to get to Elstree due to the rail network so I was in a foul mood to begin with. No trains from Kentish Town like last week, instead I had to go St. Pancras, hop on a train to St. Albans and then get to Elstree. Whilst aboard I realised whilst we left West Hampstead that I could probably get a train there to Elstree for a bit less money. Gutting.
Looking at the map in my guide and reading the first paragraph, I could tell this wasn’t going to be a good leg. For many parts I would be walking along roads, and I had the joy of walking down one side of the A1, crossing it via subway and then walking back up it to continue the route. Such a stop/start walk in that respect. Furthermore, there wasn’t much wildlife apart from the odd grey squirrel jumping from branch to branch to see, or indeed anything else of real note until I got to Hadley Green which is a very plush area just north of Barnet with fine houses, including one that David Livingstone lived in for a year.
Fortunately the next couple of legs are a bit shorter than the 10.5 miles I walked today, and probably have a lot more features to take pictures of.
Managed to get up early enough this morning to see an early showing at the cinema. Always good, as they’re less busy. Coriolanus opened yesterday and is Ralph Fiennes directorial debut. I have neither read nor seen the play, but I found it to be a terrific contemporary adaptation. Filmed I believe in Serbia, one clearly sees the links to the Balkan Conflict, but also the more recent uprisings in Egypt and Libya.
It is superbly shot by handheld camera which adds to the authenticity and the use of rolling news coverage (including Jon Snow) is a clever device. Superb cast, with great performances from Fiennes as Coriolanus (frightening), Brian Cox (cunning), and most impressively Vanessa Redgrave (domineering). I think she has been largely ignored at awards ceremonies which is a crying shame.
Heh, just noticed now that I chose a picture I took of Gruff Rhys at Field Day last year as my new header. Clearly, this has nothing do with the journal name but I only just spotted the (almost) symmetry.
With my sudden vest to post on here once again, I thought I would share an appreciation of a fine singer-songwriter that I fell in love with about in late 2010.
I’m not a regular BBC 6 Music listener. I should probably listen to it a lot more than I do. On occasion I will listen to Marc Riley during weekday nights and on a rare occasion will listen to Craig Charles’ excellent Funk and Soul show on Saturday nights. It was whilst listening to the man formerly known as ‘The Boy Lard’ that I heard Nashville based Caitlin Rose for the first time. The song was ‘For the Rabbits’. It may have been this session version here, depending when this was recorded. and her voice stirred me enough to make note of her name and investigate further.
Can’t recall precisely what I did after hearing her for the first time. I don’t remember looking on the web for performances or other songs so much. The first time I saw here live was at XOYO in Shoreditch with support by The Felice Brothers I believe. By this time, I think I had bought her debut album from Rough Trade, but I wasn’t aware that she had recorded a mini album prior to that (Dead Flowers), an album that featured covers of the Stones and Patsy Cline as well as a few originals. I think XOYO was her second London appearance after playing the Windmill in Brixton. Anyway, since then I think i’ve seen her at every London date, including an early and late performance on the same night at the Windmill prior to my 30th birthday. As an aside, I was quite drunk. I took my camera as I do for many gigs, but I thought i’d record a video and maybe post it on youtube. However, when I replayed the video to myself I could hear this annoying voice singing over the top of the footage, before realising to my horror that it was my own voice.
Her album, Own Side Now was released in the UK in 2010 and she did an awful lot of touring in Europe to promote it. It was only released in the US I think in Spring last year, and was named in the Top Ten albums of the Year by Time Magazine which ain’t too shabby. Own Side Now is an incredibly mature sounding record, particularly after listening to Dead Flowers. Caitlin’s voice has grown stronger (listen to ‘Sinful Wishing Well in particular), the songs are moody and generally better written, largely on the subject of heartbreak and loss. Despite the often sombre themes, she knows how to belt out a real country stomper in ‘Shanghai Cigarettes’.
The album was without question my favourite of 2010, and i’ve since purchased it on vinyl when that was made available. It is live however, that Caitlin Rose really excels. Backed with a band that features Jeremy Fetzer on strat and Spencer Callum Jr (from Basildon I believe, penchant for excellent shirts) on pedal steel, they’re a tight unit. On stage, she appears terribly shy at times, as if waiting for acceptance by the audience. I saw her at the Borderline on a Monday night and you could sense that the crowd wasn’t really responding, or ‘up for it’ and she knew this. Maybe us Brits are just a bit stiff, and loosen up at the week goes on. Certainly by Friday of the same week, when she played those 2 shows at the Windmill, the crowd were in good spirits (some, more than others, hic). She appears charming and funny on stage and comes across as someone you’d like to go out and have a beer with.
Another great aspect of her live shows are the covers that she often performs. When I saw her at XOYO, she sang ‘Faithless Love‘ by J.D Souther, which almost brought me to tears. I’m terrible at remembering who else she has covered live. Randy Newman certainly I seem to recall…hmm, i’m at a loss now. Anyway, a further plus is that due to listening to Caitlin Rose, I started listening to a lot of fantastic artists like Linda Ronstadt for example. I ‘m not entirely sure when Caitlin Rose will be back on these shores, I may have to wait until next year, but I hope that new material is forthcoming at least, and i’ll be down at the front at the next London date. Thank you Caitlin.
For the past 18 months or so i’ve started taking long walks in and around London. Last year I completed the Capital Ring, a 75 mile jaunt around the capital. Last summer I started the longer (160 miles) suburban walking route, The London Loop, starting at Erith and finishing on the opposite side of the Thames at Purfleet. Each leg is between 9-12 miles long, with stopping points at various stages if you get fed up, or if it starts pissing down with rain.
In the last few years i’ve suddenly found a love for walking. I wasn’t always that keen as my parents would testify. We would often take a day out to walk 4 or 5 miles somewhere. A day trip to Derbyshire, or a camping weekend in Yorkshire. The AA’s ‘No Through Road’ guide was extensive. A thick tome of walks through the British Isles incorporating helpful guides to wildlife and vegetation.
As winter came I realised that I desperately needed new footwear if I wanted to continue walking. Fortunately in the sales last weekend I found a pair of North Face boots available for £60, reduced from £114. I did do some research and my preference were a pair of Hi Tec walking shoes but after several visits to various outdoor clothing companies I couldn’t see any available and only a couple of stores seemed to be having January sales. Walking shoes, good ones are extremely expensive for the likes of me on a poor public sector wage.
Armed or footed with my new shoes, I departed for Moor Park on the Metropolitan Line on Sunday. Weather was very good, bright yet cold. Fortunately I had bought extra walking socks too. The walk to Elstree was 11.5 miles and unfortunately it wasn’t one of the best on the Loop. It started on a golf course, meaning one has to be wary of a sliced tee-shot to the cranium and there was a further course to cross halfway through.
Some of my route was blocked by fallen tress, probably as a result of the strong winds we had earlier in the month but nothing. In one wood I thought I spotted a jay. In fact i’m pretty sure I did, but the bugger was so swift that I couldn’t whip my camera out and get a good shot. I recognise the plumage however and i’m sticking by my story. Fortunately, I found some other things that were much easier to photograph, like this motorbike.
There were scarce moments of interest. I had some nice views of London, particularly of Harrow on the Hill and Wembley Stadium. One could also get a nice view of the London skyline, with the Shard dominant. I met some friendly horses on my way across open fields and in my typical fashion managed to get lost on more than one occasion. The problem I find is that the signposts for the Loop route aren’t always clear, or put in stupid places. One has to keep an eye out for them, whilst also reading from David Sharp’s guidebook. I frequently find myself going down the wrong route as what happened when I came to the pretty house that once belonged to W. S Gilbert. It is now a hotel. Gilbert died in one of the pools surrounding his home, apparently from a heart attack.
The more one spends walking by roads on these walks, the less enjoyable they are, and this route went under the M1 before turning off to circle round part of Aldenham Reservoir, which looked pretty as the sun began to disappear
Unfortunately by this hour, I had pretty much all I could stand of this leg, what with there being very little to appreciate. I ventured off course, avoiding another walk by a golf course, to take the road for the last stretch all the way to Elstree and Borehamwood Station. Compared to the walks alongside the Union Canal or those South of the capital, the routes at the top of the Loop fare badly. I sense the next leg, from Elstree to Cockfosters contains a lot of walking by roads too.
I watched Shame on Saturday evening, first film seen of this year. I really liked Hunger, in fact I really ought to see it again. I liked Steve McQueen’s style too, although I admit one does sit there and wander why some long, drawn out scenes aren’t edited, but this is his way. I enjoyed the performances of Fassbender, and indeed enjoyed the majority of the film. It seemed to be in places a companion piece to American Psycho but with no Huey Lewis (now that’s a shame).
It’s not a long film, but I felt the last 20-30 minutes could have been cut further. Lot of anguished shots of Fassbender’s character, an absolutely needless long montage of him engaging in a threesome, but that is clearly how McQueen likes to shoot. The scene of Fassbender’s character, Brandon running along Midtown streets whilst his sister is ‘occupied’ with his boss is glorious and much has been said of Carey Mulligan’s rendition of ‘New York, New York’. It didn’t bring a tear to my eye, but that’s because i’m a cold hearted bastard.
If I had to rate it, it would be 3/5 star film. I enjoyed the bleak humour and the acting is first rate. It doesn’t stick in the mind as much as Hunger which is superior.
I’ve been away so long and neglected this ‘thing’ . I refuse to call it a blog. For one, I don’t like the word and secondly I relate blogs to having some sort of agenda. I don’t have any agenda, this is just a record of some stuff i’ve done. I suppose it is a journal of sorts, but as with my attempts to write in my diary last year, i’ve just been too lazy. I prefer using Twitter to let people know what i’m doing.
Anyway, with 2012 well under way, I thought i’d give this another crack of the whip. Letting you know what I think of things i’ve seen whether they be exhibitions, films, watching Lincoln City slump to another defeat, gigs, etc. For the last 18 months i’ve been enjoying walking round London following The Capital Ring route and i’m currently over half way through the longer London Loop. More of that later.
On Friday evening I caught the Postmodernism exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum, taking advantage of their late opening, which I should do more often. I didn’t know what to expect aside from aspects of fashion, architecture, music etc from approximately 1970-1990. I was delighted and surprised in equal measure, and also a little fed up of teapots by the end of it.
The exhibition has now closed, and it took me long enough to get there. It opened with a look at architecture, and the work of Robert Venturi and Denise Scott. I wasn’t aware that he was responsible for the Sainsbury Wing of the National Gallery. Venturi formulated a style of architecture that moved away from the functionality of modernism and his works include a lot of ornamental and decorative design, which would become a defining characteristic of post modernist architecture.
A lot of the artists/architects/designers were new to me, such as Ettore Sottsass, who amongst other things designed a number of teapots, of which there were many examples on show (not all by Sottsass I hasten to add).
Whilst all was well and good about half way through the exhibition I was struck by a familiar sound from an adjoining room. I could hear Klaus Nomi singing ‘Lightning Strikes’, followed closely by Talking Heads’ ‘Girlfriend Is Better’ from Stop Making Sense. How absolutely majestic, two of my favourite artists. Hurrying through, I marvelled at the sight of Klaus Nomi’s tuxedo costume on show, with his Baroque era operatic outfit beside it.
This is Klaus, just weeks from death wearing said outfit performing ‘The Cold Song’. . Utterly beautiful.
I could barely contain myself with joy, and then turning round I could see David Byrne’s ‘big suit’ from Stop Making Sense. I wish it had been at eye level just to get a better sense of how ‘big’ it is, but I was too busy dancing to the clip of ‘Girlfriend is Better’.
For me, merely seeing these items of iconic stage wear justified the admission price. There followed some items from Factory Records, and Peter Saville’s wonderful design, as well as examples of post modernist record sleeves and contemporary magazines. Sadly, the exhibition shop didn’t stock any replica big suits or Nomi tuxedo costumes, but you can’t win them all.
Gah, i am doing terribly at updating this thing! Quite a lot to catch up on. Few weeks ago I saw the Depeche Mode fan documentary, The Posters Came From The Walls, a film made by Nick Abrahams and Turner Prize winner Jeremy Deller.
I believe the film was originally released at the London Film Festival this year, and this was very much a director’s cut (in fact they cut a whole 3 minutes). We were treated to a brunch beforehand, which was basically a scramble for anything resembling solid food. I came away with a salmon and cottage cheese bagel. Or half of one anyway.
There was a brief introduction from the filmmakers before the film began with foreign DM fans giving their perceptions of what Basildon may be like. All wildly off target of course, but charming thoughts.
Charm and humour run through this film. As with many bands, DM seemingly have a stream of dedicated fans that Alan Partridge would describe as ‘mentalists’. There are those fans in Russia that celebrate Dave Day on 9th May in honour of Dave Gahan’s birthday. The same day that victory over the Nazis is celebrated. So as well as the armed forces marching through the streets of major cities, one may also see a less disciplined parade, complete with banners, drink and a lot of music. One fan describes the fanbase as ‘Depechist….like communist, like fascist’.
Behind the Iron Curtain during the 1980s, the band were treasured by a legion of fans, who could only listen to them on bootlegged cassette tapes. A Berliner recalls that when DM played East Berlin, he got a job as a security guard at the concert, only to tear off his uniform as soon the band came on stage and join the fans on the other side of the barrier.
Perhaps the most extreme fan is the young woman who maintains a journal of beautifully drawn imagined scenes that she shares with the band. With every page she turns, one gets a little more uneasy, and I can’t but think of Pat Bateman’s secretary looking through his diary only to find crude, violent imagery from a warped mind. Fortunately, there’s nothing quite as graphic.
Rivalling that in extreme reverance, is the German man who re-creates the video to ‘Enjoy the Silence’ with crown, deckchair and robe with his young son dressed up in identical gear following him. The child seems to enjoy it, but I fear he’ll be recounting these youthful jollies to a therapist in years to come.
There are British fans interviewed too. A once homeless man who lived under Hammersmith Bridge armed only with a Sony cassette player and a copy of ’101′ who after seeing Depeche at Crystal Palace turned his life around, got some shelter and educated himself, and a short segment on young goths in Cambridge who go to church (gothic, naturally) to celebrate, erm, being a goth.
It’s a short film (70 minutes) mixing the more bizarre stories with others that fill you with warmth. Plus, it is humourous throughout. Aside from a short segment with Trent Reznor (interspersed with a marvellous marching band version I think of ‘Never Let Me Down Again’) there aren’t any celebrity fans and it’s ordinary people from around the world expressing their love for the band, and how they’ve been touched in some way. A wonderful film, thoroughly enjoyable.
Official site: http://theposterscamefromthewalls.com/
Nicholas Abrams’ site: http://www.nicholasabrahams.com/depeche-mode-film.htm
I love visiting the Barbican. Not just the wonderful cultural centre, but the Estate too. There’s a certain romantic brutality and despite the austere look of it all I do find rather captivating. Along with many other places, I wish I could live in the Estate for just a few months, to see what it is like.
I must seriously think about getting membership to the Barbican Centre. Whether it’s excellent music (i’ve seen Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra and Femi Kuti in the last year) or exhibitions (Le Corbusier- The Art of Architecture was particularly good) there is usually something worthwhile seeing.
Last Saturday I went to see Radical Nature: Art and Architecture for a Changing Planet 1969–2009, which closes in a couple of weeks time. It’s a strange exhibition in a way, encompassing Land Art, environmental activism, utopian ideals and futuristic architecture.
There’s no real chronology or narrative to these installations, they’re just ‘dumped’ within the walls of the Centre. I’d say that a lot of these installations lose something in translation. There are videos; The Center for Land Use Interpretation shows slides of the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline along its 800 mile journey. There is a tribute of sorts to Buckminster Fuller who developed the geodesic dome in the form of an interview in which he describes how he was inspired by looking at bubbles.
Some of the works just seem detached and obsolete. Parts of Joseph Beauys’ Honeypump in the Workplace lie on the floor like debris recovered from the Thames.
The best works featured were those of Land Art pioneers. Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty
built on the shore of Great Salt Lake, Utah in 1970.
Agnes Denes’ Wheatfield- A Confrontation is depicted in wonderful photographs, after she planted 2 acres of wheat in a vacant plot adjacent to Battery Park, New York City.
It is as if a portion of Lincolnshire has been lifted and transported directly onto Manhattan. The peasants have revolted and have started to envelope the Statue of Liberty with grain, a symbol of American pride subverted by agrarian muscle. The horror, the horror.
It’s one of the few exhibits that is truly compelling. Some are lost through translation to video, whilst others like Mobile Wildneress Unit – Wolf, a stuffed wolf on a trailer looked plain daft and amateurish.
There was a rather terrific little piece about possibly regarding R&Sie(n) architects, but I can’t for the life of me remember without the gallery guide to hand, so i’ll have to update later.
In which shark hunter, and modern day Ahab, Quint (Robert Shaw) recalls what happened when the U.S.S Indianapolis was sunk by a Japanese submarine, just days after delivering critical parts of the atomic bomb. Following a rare moment where Hooper, Quint and Brody each comparing scars share the odd laugh, the mood darkens as it’s revealed that Quint was on the Indianapolis when it went down, and he recalls the full horror.
Three people are credited with writing the speech, John Milius, Howard Sackler and Robert Shaw, each adding a little more. The screenwriter himself, John Gottlieb gives most of the credit to Shaw. Beautifully delivered.
Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, chief. It was comin’ back, from the island of Tinian Delady, just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn’t see the first shark for about a half an hour. Tiger. Thirteen footer. You know, you know that when you’re in the water, chief? You tell by lookin’ from the dorsal to the tail. Well, we didn’t know. `Cause our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. Huh huh. They didn’t even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, chief. The sharks come cruisin’. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it’s… kinda like `ol squares in battle like a, you see on a calendar, like the battle of Waterloo. And the idea was, the shark would go for nearest man and then he’d start poundin’ and hollerin’ and screamin’ and sometimes the shark would go away. Sometimes he wouldn’t go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he’s got…lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll’s eye. When he comes at ya, doesn’t seem to be livin’. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin’ and the ocean turns red and spite of all the poundin’ and the hollerin’ they all come in and rip you to pieces.
Y’know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men! I don’t know how many sharks, maybe a thousand! I don’t know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin’ chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player, boson’s mate. I thought he was asleep, reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up and down in the water, just like a kinda top. Up ended. Well… he’d been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us. He’d a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper, anyway he saw us and come in low. And three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened? Waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks ttook the rest, June the 29, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.”
