Seems to me that back in the 80’s there were a whole load of post-punk, art-punk outfits dotted around the country, most of whom are largely forgotten. A prominent concentration of these was centred in Scotland. Somehow though, overshadowed by the continuing success of the very English The Fall and Gang Of Four, bands like Josef K and Orange Juice (both fellow Scots) seem to have fallen by the wayside. More forgotten than all of these, p’raps due to a mere eighteen-month existence, are Edinburgh’s Fire Engines.
Future Of The Left have always been, and remain, awesome. If you still need the info, they’re born of two parts Mclusky, one part Jarcrew.
Glorious weather, a cracking line up and one of London's most picturesque locations, Field Day in Victoria Park on Saturday could have been a 'festival' to rival any other. It could have been.
Sweet London-based singer/songwriter Emma-Lee Moss, a.k.a. Emmy the Great, finally releases debut EP My Bad. Seems like Ms. Great has been spending more time making her presence known on the live music market, having spent most of her time supporting heavy-hitter acts like Martha Wainwright, Mystery Jets, and Jamie T (to name a few) rather than release a full-length record. Often discovered collaborating with a wide range of other artists as a rather prominent figure of the anti-folk scene, it’s hard to believe that this is merely her debut, but it’s a glowing release nonetheless.
When I heard Gang Gang Dance were to grace us with their presence at Cargo this Wednesday I let out a high-pitched puppy like yelp. I apologise to my fellow passengers on the 29 bus but I’ve been waiting quite a while for this one. You see, Gang Gang Dance are responsible for one of my albums of the century, God’s Money, a musical offering so brilliant that within 5 minutes of listening I was ready to have their faces tattooed on my forehead. If you’re lucky enough to receive a copy, grab on and never let go.
“I was on my way to Newcastle”, said Badly Drawn Boy, “but I just had to stop off to say thanks to Dpercussion.” The fact that our eccentric folk hero and his knitted beanie had again returned to this one day festival of rising stars and local treasures is testament to the career-platform it had provided for many over the past decade. Originally organised to celebrate the rebuilding of Manchester after the devastation of the 1996 IRA bomb and now bowing out after the frustration of funding problems, Dpercussion had evolved to include 11 stages, 200 artists, and a pirate party boat of all things. Add to that the 50,000 thousand music fans who travelled from across the Northwest to enjoy sunshine, live music and 40% proof cocktails, and the last ever Dpercussion festival was going out with a bang, not to mention several hundred brandished glowsticks.
Trundling around a field in the grounds of a beautiful Georgian farmhouse, surrounded by colourful tents, tucking into an organic pie and a pint of pimms- it doesn't get much more boutique than this. Secret Garden Party won the Sunday Times Small Festival award in 2004 and now in its fourth year, this not-so-secret little festival delivered its usual feast of foolishness and decadence, and quite a lot of good music too.
A Herb Ritts photograph is instantly recognisable and admittedly my first thought on seeing his early work at the rather stuffy Hamiltons Gallery was, ‘It’s all a bit Athena isn’t it’. As obvious as it sounds there is something incredibly late 80s/early 90s about his work. Take ‘Fred with tires’, one of his most popular prints featuring a muscle bound mechanic looking intensely at well, some tires. Homo-erotic seemed to be the order of the day. In effect, his photography is so of it’s era that your immediate reaction is to be a bit sneering. The days of buff young oil covered men and girls in tennis skirts adorning our living room walls are well and truly over. The 80s have become just one big ironic joke.
