Amelia’s Magazine | Micachu – Golden Phone

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XX Teens are so stand offish that it would be very easy to simply dismiss them as weirdos. They’re shirt, for sale what is ed tie and gawmless stares are supposed to create an atmosphere of impending doom. These efforts are however in vain, remedy due to the slightly foolish looking lead singer wearing sunglasses indoors, at night – obviously believing himself to be the embodiment of Lou Reed. Which is a shame, because a band who can create an atmosphere of impending doom are always a real treat.

The only problem with their completely non-emotive stage manner is that it receives a very static reaction from a crowd. Something I’ve seen many times, but it’s not often that it would appear to be the reaction the artist had hoped for. It’s quite an achievement really. Tracks like ‘Darling’ and ‘How To Reduce The Chances Of Becoming A Terror Victim’ should insight at least a small ruckus.

One thing I did enjoy during their set was the lavish use of mega phone. Mainly used for eerie, evil genius style, laughing into the microphone. I liked this mainly for the look the guitarist gave to another band member after executing this act. It seemed to say, “right, well at least that bits over – I still don’t know whether it’s really necessary, but damn am I good at it.”

My favourite thing about their songs is how the guitar licks are reminiscent of bands like The Rakes. Formed around simple yet attractive loops, the bass lines imitate them to create something that drills into your conscious, a feeling that is heightened by the commanding vocals from the man in the shades. There was something very ‘1984‘ about ‘How To Reduce The Chances Of Becoming A Terror Victim’ in particular.

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This is music that makes you look at your computer generic -Katmai-N.jpg”target=”_blank”>strange and start looking for the source of the problem that’s causing it to create such obscure noises.

Keyboard Choir come across as a Jean Micheal-Jarre for the last.fm generation. Their production appears to be encapsulating the sounds of their experimentations with keyboards within something recognizable as structure, creating an end product which just sounds really, really good

Their influences would appear to be obvious, with Aphex Twin, DJ Shadow and Briano Eno being detectable. But they also bring something of their own to the table – something a lot more post-rock than many of the aforementioned. The exclusive use of keyboards gives the album a live feel which is often very difficult to create in electronic music.

Tracks like ‘Skylab’, ‘Legal Boards’ and ‘In This Situation, Thinking Wont Help’ really show the range of sounds they can create so masterfully. It’s an album that will fill you with intrigue and delight you on every listen.

They are definitely one of the flagship groups for Oxford’s impressive music scene, and those thinking Foals were the most experimental band to come from should definitely check them out.

About a month ago I received an out-of-the-blue email from stylist to the stars, buy Rebekah Roy. I was already planning to attend her presentation ‘Create a unique personal look’ at the Barbican, approved so I was absolutely delighted when she asked for a quote from both Amelia and little ol’ me, ailment to use as part of her talk. The question that she put to us both was,

‘In your opinion, what’s the best way for someone to create their own distinct personal style?’

Knowing this was likely to be quite a high profile event, I agonised for a good two days over what direction to take with my words of wisdom. I thought it best not to try and sound like some sort of all-knowing fashion wizard since the room was bound to be full of fashion types who, lets face it, probably knew better. On the other hand I was aware of how embarrassing it could be if it appeared as though I didn’t have a clue, so I deliberated, sat back, then deliberated some more before conjuring up the following:

‘It’s impossible to create a self-image using preconceived ideas. Your discomfort can be seen through even the most expensive of designer gowns, should you attempt to construct a persona that doesn’t belong to you. People that are noted for their distinct personal style are often those whose clothing is almost an accessory to their personality or attitude to life. To a genuine trendsetter, that bold pair of fuchsia heels isn’t used to denote wealth or forward thinking style, they’re merely the best footwear to compliment a love for all things bright and colourful’.

And Amelia wrote this quote:

‘For me the only people who have a distinct personal style are those who have absolutely no regard for what other people think about the way they dress, it being merely an outward expression of a strong personality and a creative mind. They are unlikely to follow trends, instead preferring to find their own way of dressing in a sea of similar looks – this, somewhat ironically, means that they are likely to kickstart the very trends they steer clear of’.

The presentation took place in a tiny room in the gallery, which was jam-packed with predominately female, Roy followers. I was ushered in and advised to take a seat on the floor alongside the other cramped and flustered looking visitors. This did bother me slightly, particularly as the lady in front insisted on invading every inch of space I attempted to create for myself. My feelings of discomfort were slightly sidetracked by the arrival of Rebekah herself, who entered the room like a great beacon of fashionable light. Her adventurous teaming of long pop socks with court shoes immediately caught my eye and had me wondering how many other females in the room had made a mental ‘to do’ note, of this particular style.

Her presentation consisted of a light-hearted and humorous discussion on individuality and personal taste. She employed a model and a single rail of clothing to illustrate how a simple pair of jeans and plain white tee can be transformed to create different looks. Quotes from various creative’s within the fashion industry were projected on a wall behind her throughout the presentation. I couldn’t help but wait anxiously for my quote to appear – my discomfort growing by the minute as I shuffled around the square foot of space I’d been allocated in an attempt to minimise the cramp festering in my lower back. This went down a treat with a couple of done-up ladies sat beside me, who didn’t take too kindly to having their manicured toes trampled on.

I’d nearly given up hope of seeing my words appear when low and behold, my name flashes up in lights alongside my apparently ‘expert opinion’. I jumped up and fumbled around with my camera in an attempt to get a picture while vainly scanning the room for any hint of a reaction. My efforts failed miserably as, sods law, my camera decided to use that particular moment to run low on battery. I did however manage to get a slightly blurry pic of Amelia’s words on the wall from my phone.

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So there’s the evidence guys and girls, we do actually know a little about the weird and wonderful world that is fashion, even if we do appear to be spending most of our time seeking out the free drinks at glammed up press events!

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At the end – we all couldn’t wait to stand up and stretch our legs

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Visitors browsing the clothing rail at the end

News flash!!

The site for Climate Camp has just been secured! At 3pm this very afternoon activists scaled tripods to prevent the cops from moving them along and have erected a banner reading “No New Coal.”

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Photograph by Mike Russell
Activist Paddy on the tripod ready to tie up the banner (how they got up there is a mystery) with the targeted power station in the background

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Photograph by Mike Russell
Paddy celebrating

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Photograph by Mike Russell
Quite an impressive banner

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Photograph by Mike Russell
Fellow activists erecting the marquee

Situated in an uncultivated field occupied by 20 sheep, viagra sale the ballsy ones have rounded up the woolly creatures and have provided them with food and water.

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The sheep happily grazing

Plans were previously kept under wraps to ensure the police and E.ON did not spoil their intentions, pill yet activists and spokesperson Terry Graves now “warmly invite people from the local community to come down and see for themselves what the camp is all about.” A quick reminder why? “We have a future to protect” states Hannah Abbots, more about backed up by Christina Greensford outlining “people from all over the UK are here to create a democratic, low-carbon society in which our long term future on this planet is prioritised over the short term profit margins of the fossil fuel industry.”

With the land located between Hoo St Werburgh and High Halstow, rail links to Strood and buses to Hoo which is a half hour walk away from the site, there simply isn’t any excuse not to join Amelia and all of us interns between 3-11 August.

So come on guys, lets head down as soon as we can.
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It’s not all about the music.

Except, troche it is. But really, this site it isn’t. Not when Daniel Johnston is at the mic. The man with the notorious mental history, cheapest who in his forties lives next door to his parents, who’s had a film dedicated to his problems, who was fetishised by Kurt Cobain in public, and who creates music that strips his troubled heart and soul so bare you can see his blood cells.

Schizophrenic, depressive and diabetic, he no longer looks young on the neon-blue encrusted (and fantastically inappropriate) Indig02 stage. His hair has greyed and he has the belly of a man who long stopped looking after himself. But his frame is still small. He’s in a baggy grey t-shirt and black slacks. He’s lumbering and unassuming.

The set starts with him as a solo artist. His voice is deeper now, but it still cracks when he strains himself, like it always used to. Scout Niblett, Niblett’s drummer, Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse, James McNew of Yo La Tengo, and Jad Fair of Half Japanese help Johnston out on guitars, drums, bass, chord organ and tom-tom tonight.

Up on stage, I guess he’s still the same kid inside. The same kid that wrote tonight’s early crowd pleasers: the adventurous, excited ‘Speeding Motorcycle’ and the dedication to a childhood hero, ‘Casper The Friendly Ghost’. And because he’s still the same kid inside, the songs mean the same as they did when they were demos in the 70s and 80s.

He’s coming from the same place: still damaged, still confused by the world. Without the music, you suspect Johnston wouldn’t have much. But he does have music. And more poignantly, music has him. He’s the ultimate story for musical romanticists.

His genius lies in the songs: the harmonies from nowhere, the outbursts of naivety, the inability to recover from unrequited love, images of death, immense sadness and visions of doom. His past makes him more interesting, sure. But he’s a walking triumph over adversity, a man to admire.

The Indig02 finds Niblett singing often behind Johnston, her sharp, eerie scrawl clashing weirdly with his squeak. The band is disjointed and works by accident. A supergroup sounding like they’ve barely practised, this is Johnston’s way. This is pure. His music is easy and natural. At a guess, he’s the kind of writer who’s prolific when in the mood, but feels no obligation. Talent is the word.

When Johnston sings, he shakes, but he’s with pals and enjoying the occasion. ‘Walking The Cow’ is greeted with the whoops of a greatest hit. And his set ends with an acapella version of the minute-long ‘Devil Town’.

Portobello Market never fails to make its way into the list of must-see places for the ultimate tourist trip to London. Pastel-coloured houses, prescription legendary vintage stalls and some rather delicious spots for a quick snack make it one of the favourite stops for visitors and locals alike. The ideal Saturday in London often starts with a stroll down Portobello Road, information pills a stop for coffee and cupcakes and then on to the shopping, from one-of-a-kind vintage to up-and-coming new designers.

Too bad this is the ideal Saturday for all of Londoners. All seven millions of us, it might seem. So the idea of spending Saturday morning sitting on the couch with a cup of tea might sound a lot more appealing than dragging oneself to the crammed streets of Notting Hill, fighting with aggressive tourists for that last piece of jewellery.

The people behind Pret A Portobello must have had the same idea, as they decided to join the two, gathering a bunch of stalls from the most famous London markets to sell their merchandise online. Focusing on young designers, their goal is to provide an alternative to the “ ‘samey’ fashion from high street stores” we all see everywhere and everyday. There are Ducie’s candy-coloured summer dresses, Miss Crofton and her ruffled flowered underwear and Dahlia’s eclectic, trend-inspired collections (her leather goods are to die for). Vintage is obviously on the menu, with a stall full of Lanvin, Christian Lacroix and bespoke pieces by exclusive collaborator Zandra Rhodes.

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Plenty of choice, plenty of time to browse, without anxious tourists screaming and pushing and stealing your picks. Pretty appealing, no?

The best part, however, is the “let’s trade!” section. Think eBay meets Portobello. Some items don’t have a set price, and you are free to barter with the stall owner as much as you want over sample sizes and one off pieces.

Should you still be undecided about what to pick, click on the ‘market trends‘, and let them help you. Whether you feel like pastel shades, romantic ruffles or bold prints, you will find outfits complete with shoes, bags and jewellery.

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All considered, Pret A Portobello sounds like the perfect Saturday morning in. Something, however, is missing. Because I can moan about the market as much as I want, but, I must confess, at the end of the day I secretly love to spy on tourists, I can’t live without the cupcakes from Hummingbird Bakery and I love the feel of vintage mink furs and crocodile bags you can find on the stalls.

So I guess I will still hit the road every once in a while. After all, you can’t beat the real thing.

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‘Tak O Tak’ effortlessly showcases Stricken City’s notable, patient delightfully tyrannical, hospital songwriting talent in its mere 2 minutes and 51 seconds.

There’s something in the simplicity of the opening, with Casio horns and rolling strums of guitar that makes my ears prick. The vocals from Rebekah Raa aren’t filled with half as much excitement as her name, but they enrich the songs with character, like a subtler Karen O perhaps.

The strip down production of tracks adds to their charm, giving the feel it was recorded in a backroom. I really couldn’t imagine it any other way, it just wouldn’t be as quintessentially indie if it was over produced. Which brings me to another point, Stricken City are the first band to make me feel comfortable defining someone as ‘indie’ in, well, ages.

A band that are really on the up, it would appear that all Stricken City need to really break through is an album. Or perhaps (as usual) I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but for a debut single there really is a lot to get excited about.

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So the secret is out. As Dearbhaile reported a few days ago in her review of Ratatat’s recent gig, viagra I’m a little bit of a Micachu fan. Okay, medications quite a big fan, who keeps banging on about said electronic songstress to anyone who’ll listen.

I first fell in love with Micachu last year, at a Ladyfest London benefit gig. Playing on a tiny guitar strapped to her with a piece of string and backed only by a tinny little tape player, it was impossible not to fall for her infectious songs about loose change and abstaining from sex due to fear of STDs. There was something immediately endearing about her uncomfortable presence, Sarf London snarl and unruly mop of hair…but I digress. Let’s not get too lovey dovey.

I next saw Micachu supporting Mules at the Hoxton Square Bar & Kitchen back in June. This time she was backed by her band ‘The Shapes’ – Marc Pell and Raisa Khan on drums and keyboards respectively. Having dragged all my friends along promising “you will LOVE her”, I was more than a little worried about how well her weirdness would actually translate to the uninitiated. Playing with a flesh and bone band backing her up, Micachu’s live act had taken a turn from being an intimate, lo-fi affair (something that had been so refreshing first time around) to a more abrupt, slightly less inviting spectacle. However, when Micachu started up her Henry hoover to perform ‘Turn Me Weller’ I knew I needn’t have worried. When a singer starts hoovering up their own face, you know they can’t really do much else to win you, or your friends, over. And they were definitely won over, for the record…

So on to this single, then. ‘Golden Phone’ has to have been the stand out song from both sets I have seen Micachu perform, and now the masses will be lucky enough to hear what all the fuss is about. It’s a twangy, dancey golden nugget of electro happiness. I like my music cut up, disjointed and sampled to death (Beck being my most played on itunes and, more recently, MIA and Santogold lighting my fire) and ‘Golden Phone’ is Micachu’s best example of her prowess at cut and paste style. No worries about melody being sacrificed at the altar of the electronic sampler however, ‘Golden Phone’ is a catchy and brilliantly crafted -dare I say it- pop song.

Taking up residence as B-side is the aforementioned collaboration with Henry the hoover ‘Turn Me Weller’. Syncopated beats, samples of vacuum cleaners and squeakified singing doesn’t really sound like the perfect recipe for a downbeat love song, but the proof is in the pudding. ‘Turn Me Weller’ is a thoughtful lullaby that showcases a surprisingly gorgeous voice, one that sighs through lyrics such as; “You squeezed my heart so tight tonight, you must return it before you leave”.

Micachu is a busy bee right now, as one look at the schedule of her upcoming gigs on MySpace suggests. With a growing fan base, that is said to include Bjork, Bat for Lashes and Saul Williams, now is the time to see her – before she gets as big as she deserves to be.

Golden Phone is released via Accidental Records on August the 11th. The debut album is scheduled for October 2008.

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