Tuesday, 31 August 2010 15:29 Written by Matthew Way

Each year twelve British and Irish artists are given the glory of having their albums nominated for the Mercury Prize, celebrating music of all genres and tastes. As the website states, ‘the music on the album is the only thing taken into account’. There is no prize for best live act, sexiest female or most elegant walk down the red carpet – it’s simply all about the LP. So an all round well respected and worthy prize, yes?  You would think so. But there is often controversy over the prize and with rumours that Fuck Buttons and Gorillaz refused to put their albums up for nomination, you may wonder whether there is credit and even life behind the awards. Furthermore, this year’s shortlist has been termed one of the ‘safest’ shortlists of the Mercury’s history. But let us not be cynical as we explore this year’s line-up, looking at the favourites, and seeing what the prize can do to a budding artist.

Dizzee Rascal and The xx share odds on taking away the prize of £20,000 this year, fighting for their album to become the nineteenth winner of the Mercury Prize. I use the term ‘fighting’ loosely in this context, as there are artists out there who are rather sceptical towards the Mercury’s. Accompanying the xx and Dizzee on the list include Foals with their second album Total Life Forever, Biffy Clyro’s fifth LP Only Revolutions, and Laura Marling’s second album and second nomination I Speak Because I Can.

The list was introduced in 1992 to celebrate the full length and has always been considered an alternative to mainstream award shows like the Brits (despite previous nominees Take That and Spice Girls!?), and a certain level of credibility has always been associated with the awards. One thing the Mercury Prize can be appreciated for is the diverse nature of the music that is selected to represent the year that has been.

2010 is a little different. The list presents a largely guitar heavy collection of artists, with Dizzee’s album Tongue N’ Cheek actually looking quite alternative alongside an array of strings. The shortlist always seemed to employ a ‘tick box’ system in what music was included, feeling as though every genre and musical taste must be covered, which often resulted in the odd few novelty artist inclusions. Although this year the list does arguably tick many of the genre boxes, it seems somewhat less controversial or daring than in recent years, as most artists listed are no strangers to radio airplay. This could be a reaction to the result of last year in what could be considered a severe case of the dreaded Mercury curse.

The Mercury curse is something nominated artists often refer to, declaring that naturally they would love to take home the cheque, yet are slightly concerned of the result that the prize can hold for the winner. Speech Debelle was the winner of the 2009 Mercury Prize, but that created little fortune for her following year in music.  Since then, she has been unable to sell many records, playing to relatively small crowds and ultimately departed from her record company. One of the advantages of simply being nominated is that album sales increase, yet the Mercury Prize has a bit of a history in crowning its winner before waving the artist off into the setting sun of their career. Perhaps the most famous case of this is 1999 winner Talvin Singh. But of course this is no guarantee.

For this year, it would seem intelligent to back The xx debut, as one could argue they are the most original artist on the shortlist, receiving both critical and commercial acclaim. Yet the winner can never be decided using straightforward intelligence. Perhaps the openness of the prize makes it as interesting as it is, and interesting the Mercury’s must be; otherwise they simply become another award ceremony glorifying the music of the past year for the sake of television audiences and sponsorship deals (note the full title of the awards – the Barclaycard Music Prize).

The Mercury’s do have importance in their celebration of alternative music, boosting the repertoire of up and coming artists, or as in this years case, highlighting the work of legendary artists such as Paul Weller. The Mercury’s are not exclusive awards, but rather all-encompassing of great song writing on the album. So why are artists like Gorillaz steering away from them?  Is it the old cliché of being too cool for school (or rather awards)?  Or are the Mercury’s simply not worth the trophy plaque they are engraved on?

The traditional album format is in decline as digital sales become more prominent, yet for the industrious musicians who work towards this ultimate product surely the Mercury prize awarding the best album of the year is an honour.  While the future of the album in its physical and actual sense may be unknown, it is important that it is kept sacred for as long as it is here, and any award that promotes the importance of the album should be valued. Maybe it is time to put aside the award show snobbery and the politics associated with the Mercury Music Prize and to just be glad that the album is still getting the all important recognition. Here’s to another (hopefully) interesting year at the Mercury’s.

Sunday, 29 August 2010 02:41 Written by Tom Hewson

Having never been to a FrightFest before I was eager to find out what the mass appeal was to hoard out the socially elite. By no means am I being sardonic; I’m not saying there were more bandanas/pony tails than a female beef-cake convention and I’m also not saying that Leicester Square’s EMPIRE Cinema was encapsulated in a shell of a particular odour, but at times certain stereotyping – although severely offensive – can’t be helped. Especially if there are so many horror fans being cliché characters of their own misfortune...

Having already seen the original cut of the eagerly-anticipated remake of I Spit on Your Grave - shotgun raping, knob engulfing and all – I was certainly energized to indulge in some more gorno this weekend. Knowing that a few British low-budgets were also being premiered in the humungous 800 capacity cinema, I felt impeccably supportive - as we all should be – towards such home-grown talent, particularly since the demise of the UK Film Council.

F really does stand for FAIL

Whilst the festival kicked off last night (Thursday 26), I decided to pop my festival cherry at tonight’s World Premiere of F. In brief the film follows a teacher, who after having been head butted by a ‘hoody’ (pfft, fucking glue sniffing nobodies thinking it’s fine to intimidate us Daily Mail supporters ay? Take your finger guns and hatred for David Cameron and stick it where the police don’t search, probably somewhere in Runcorn) for failing him on an essay (what else?) The teacher turns to drink as he battles to save his flailing relationship with his wife and daughter, who he also so happens to teach. Giving his daughter detention in a bid to spend time with her, time restraints go awash and a whole night spent in school detention turns into a Revenge of the Hoodies...

Film for thought:

“Felt like it was shot as a commercial – every shot would be focus frenzy. The photographer’s use of blur made for an uncomfortable watch. Certainly frustrating and at times rather nauseating.”

“Zero character development. 2-Dimensional portrayals led the 2-Dimensional action. There was no purpose for the characters apart from getting killed. Here’s the first to get killed, here’s the second, here’s the third. It comes across overly melodramatic.”

“Don’t use people from Hollyoaks?”

“A one trick pony – there’s only so many times you can see a hoody free-run behind the yet-to-be-killed before it gets mundane.”

“Watch F for Frustration.”

The film happened. Admittedly your ‘first time’ isn’t always the best anyway; it’ll take a few times to really enjoy it. Anywho, like many of the films over the weekend there was a Q&A afterwards with Thee Director and most of the cast. The film had ended though, and we fancied leaving, quite desperately. Andrew stands up, turns to myself and Scott with a face like a deflated balloon and decides to lead the way out. “The entire film was just people walking backwards. Ergh." Andrew babbles whilst we collate our belongings, completely oblivious to one of the actors sitting in front of us. I'm not sure which one is more embarrassed out of the two...

As we were leaving the Director walked on stage to much weary applaud. He was rather painful. Like a Richard Curtis protégé, he went on to talk about F: “I’m just a boy, standing in front of an audience, asking them to like my film”. We left. Did I mention an actress who used to be in Hollyoaks was also in the film (the girl with the vacant face in the programme)? Well she signed autographs outside for fans, and again when I say fans, I mean men in Hatebreed tees and leather-bound autograph wallets. At one point I could have sworn a signature-hunter asked whether she was allergic to nuts. Hope she wasn’t because certain peanuts were being smuggled throughout the entire film. Okay, that’s a lie.

We left EMPIRE to discover a Christian preacher perched in front of a Last Airbender gigantic-poster talking about the consequences of sinning and going straight to Hell (he obviously did his homework). He argued, “How many times do you have to lie before you are called a liar and how many times to you have to murder before you are called a murderer?” Then he punched an onlooker in the face (he may not have) but who cares, I was there and you were not. If only he ventured into the actual cinema to see the real Jason Voorhees - but rather than killing people, he was making a killing by signing fanboy autographs.

Tuesday, 24 August 2010 22:38 Written by Andrew Hewson

Our short film Eric is being screened at this year's ArtsFest as part of their 'Short Cuts' section. It's being shown on Saturday 11th September from 3pm at The Crescent Theatre in Birmingham. As stated, it's the UK's largest free  arts festival so make sure you pop on down. There will also be a vast array of other screenings for you to engorge in that weekend!

Tuesday, 10 August 2010 18:54 Written by Andrew Hewson

Toy Story 3

"Effortlessly funny, inventive and exciting with moments of real poignancy"

Tuesday, 10 August 2010 01:20 Written by Tom Hewson

“guaranteed to jack you up”

Not short of an absurd understatement this: Arcade Fire, a future cult classic. Brandishing Arcade Fire as a 'future cult classic' falsely implies they're yet to achieve any accolades, whilst the truth of the matter is such a status has well passed its germination stage and has already flowered ever so brightly for these arena-touring-festival-headlining-chart-toppers. Perhaps the Canadian’s nonchalant attitude towards their success sidetracked the band from the grasps of elitist underground folklore that suggests success is a forbidden entity – one certain enough to strip bare the appeal and put a hold on creativity. Arcade Fire’s cult status is still justified even after mainstream recognition it would seem. Yet whilst they’re already considered a cult classic as a band, not all of their tracks are.

Our ‘future cult classic’ article focuses on the track rather than the artist - a completely different kettle of fish. Even the most cultish of bands have tracks that aren’t worthy enough of b-side compilations, so it’s unfair to judge a track by a band’s success. You wouldn’t fob off Duncan Jones’ originality as a by-product of his father’s cult status, that would be plain ignorant...

‘Month of May’ - the fiery number from LP No. 3 The Suburbs – first came into our existence as a free download/teaser track during the lead up to the release of the record. The haunting melody and context of Win’s lyricism compliments the track’s simplistic framework of Magazine-esque punch and drive. Its post-punk like volatility is a sure representative of a film that depicts youthful angst and determination. It certainly wouldn’t be out of place on a soundtrack to one of the teen-horrors of the late 1990’s: Rodriguez’s The Faculty and Craven’s Scream spring to mind. After the recent reinvention of the superhero movie perhaps it’s time for a reintroduction to the teen-horrors of yesteryear, but ones that aren’t vampire-love-story pollutants. I really believe it’s needed for 'Month of May' to show off its deeper and darker qualities.

Sunday, 01 August 2010 22:45 Written by Tom Hewson

“I know how to do the play now. It will all take place over the course of one day. And that day will be the day before you died. That day was the happiest day of my life. Then I'll be able to live it forever” (Caden Cotard)

The human existence revolves around a unity of understanding; a symbiotic recognition of love and hatred. Irrefutably we humans will endure similar – if not exact – situations during our lifetime. We will all share each other’s moments; of course it’s unspoken rather than literal, but not for Caden Cotard – the anxiously lost protagonist in Charlie Kaufman’s debut directorial headfuck Synecdoche, New York. In an epic bid to recover and re-establish his life, theatre director Caden - played by perv-perfect-pro Philip Seymour Hoffman - plans to create the most honest, most grandiose piece of theatre to date: a performance of his own life.

Evidently this isn’t an easy ‘popcorn movie’ as it were; one with an introduction, a crisis and then the hoped for resolution. Instead what we’re offered is a film against the boundaries of time, against the formulation of film, and more importantly against the expectation of the spectator. Kaufman has indeed crafted a piece of film that’s shone new meaning onto his declaration that theatre is alive and movies are dead. The more times you watch Synecdoche, New York then the more you will take from it – this film isn’t set in stone; there’ll always be blood pumping through it.

The film’s true meaning will never be definitively singular either, due to the fact that there are multiple explorations intricately weaved into the film’s core; perhaps a representation of Kaufman himself? Why should it be so easy to define anyway? As aforementioned Kaufman aimed to defy film formulation and expectation. A personal belief of mine though is that Synecdoche, New York – whilst awash with multiple meanings – is a story loosely based on Friedrich Nietzsche’s notion of Eternal Return.

Nietzsche commented on the idea of Eternal Return – a cyclical timeline for all, where one would have to relive his life over and over again – as “horrifying and paralyzing”, and believed it to be the heaviest burden any human can behold. In The Gay Science Nietzsche expands on this overwhelming idea:

“What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: 'This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more' ... Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: 'You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine.”

Having the option to relive your life is most definitely a confusing and daunting prospect to say the least. Could you go through ‘those times’ once more? See the pain, see the joy, and see it all without being able to change a thing? This is exactly what Caden decides to do in the form of a play, he opts to relive his life but through the help of other people – the actors. In theory as a theatre director he has the ability to change parts of his life he chooses to portray, but he chooses not to. His aim for an honest performance stops him from changing a thing – he will have to endure it exactly as he lived it.  

There is a scene where Millicent Weems (impeccably played by Diane Wiest) auditions for a role in the play. In conversation with Caden, she deadpans “You have struggled into existence, and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone's experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone's everyone”. Suggesting that everyone is everyone - thus everyone’s experiences are alike - begs the question to who this so called ‘demon’ is – the one that Nietzsche says will inform you to relive your life again. Well in theory if it’s Caden, then it’s also multiple people (if we are to presume everyone is everyone). STAY WITH ME...

As the director Caden is separate from the action of the play, an outsider to the art. For him to truly relive his life he must be apart of the play. He therefore opens auditions for the part of himself. This is when we are introduced to Sammy. After stating that he hasn’t a resume as he isn’t an actor, he goes onto explain hauntingly,”I've been... I've been following you for twenty years. See, I knew about this audition because I follow you. And I've learned everything about you by following you. So hire me. And you'll see who you truly are”

At this point Sammy incidentally takes on the role of the demon by taking on the role of Caden. He is the person who allows Caden to become apart of the play, thus allowing him to relive his life properly. This strengthens Nietzsche’s point furthermore, with Sammy being the part of Caden who “answered him (to Caden): 'You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine” when offered the role. Caden’s role as the theatre director, the creator of this play, the demon who gave himself the chance to relive his life is certified in the scene where a funeral is being re-enacted. The Minister suggests that “you only get one chance to play it out (life)...And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create”. Caden evidently creates his own fate: the play:

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It gets shit confusing from here on if you are to believe everyone is everyone, especially when Millicent Weems takes over Caden’s role as director, and Caden takes over Millicent’s former role of Ellen, Adele’s cleaning lady. In the same way with Sammy, Millicent becomes the ‘demon’ when she takes over Caden’s role. With Millicent now playing Caden (the demon), she has the ability to change his life, and she does. Her direction differs from what his direction was, and she controls Caden’s (now Ellen) life until he ‘dies’. Having the ability to change his life makes Millicent what Caden longed to be – ever the more ironic then that Caden is said to have smelt like he’s menstruating when back from cleaning Adele’s flat, and later on when he admits that he would have been better as a woman. Yet whilst Millicent as the director was able to change Caden’s life, Caden himself wasn’t. The end of the film is bleak and lonely; nothing has changed for Caden, not even from swapping roles.

Are we to believe that Caden died during the final scene then? Eternal Return is all about the notion of reoccurrence and recompletion. It’s the intricate details that help strengthen the relationship between Synecdoche, New York and Nietzsche’s idea. The film's opening shows Caden waking up at 7:45am, the exact time that is chalked on the wall in the final scene. This bleak Groundhog Day-esque detail is the glooming answer that all is to happen again. The film is a headfuck because it isn’t a linear structure-abiding piece, but a cyclical presentation set out to confuse and confound. I’m not sure whether it’s my head or my feet that hurt now.

Monday, 26 July 2010 17:11 Written by Tom Hewson

HUMPDAY

‘Bromance’ finds new meaning in this endearing display of human-emotion.

Friday, 23 July 2010 22:47 Written by Tom Hewson

Much like those travellers who used to firmly park their arses, their caravans and their dogs on your local park as a child, we too are moving somewhere more comfortable. This is by no means a bid to avoid being prosecuted by Nigel and his Sunday League Team from stopping their weekly practise on our newly claimed turf, but because new surroundings are irrefutably exciting. The kind people over at Poppy Red have asked us to set up camp at their place for a while - so for this upcoming event we accepted their invitation.

With new surroundings come new ideas; and that's exactly what we've got installed for us all (if it goes to plan). Gearing up to play is Greg Bird & Flamingo Flame (ex-Sunset Cinema Club). Our friends over at Totally Bone illustrate Flamingo Flame as "...one mans adventure through his record collection, exploring the sounds of the artists he loves and I feel privileged that we get to glimpse the interior of his crazed time machine". An evident love child of Prince and Robert Smith - circa early '80s - Flamingo Flame will undoubtedley get feet tapping and pastel colours showing. I'm particulary looking forward to the prospect of a visual improv...

For a free download of their Shruburbia EP, then click HERE!

If you haven't so already then please head on over to our Facebook Event and RSVP. Spread the buttery message. There's a whole host of short films to screen and - as ever - the mandatory popcorn will be at reaching distance.

Thursday, 22 July 2010 17:23 Written by Tom Hewson

So Andrew and I were fortunate enough to attend The Creators Project, which for those of you who haven't the foggiest; it's primarily an ongoing exhibition challenging the relationship between art and technology. That said, there was obviously a lot of pretty awesome interactives, which when experienced through a pillow of free alcoholic beverages seem the ever more amazing.

There was a whole host of exhibits from some of today's most aspirational contemporary artists. This included Karl Sadler, who achieved a fame rating recently with his xx audio sculpture, back this time though with a constructed forest in a corridor, supported by a soundtrack from Esben & The Witch. Nick Zinner's A.D.A.B.A photography held it's own, especially his snap of hyenas in Ethiopia, and Radical Friend's Digital Flesh both baffled and bemused the clientele. These artists are to name but a few, so if you want to find out more on the event then head on over to the official site to enjoy a huge array of videos/photos etc etc filmed by VICE for your perusal.

The evening 'party' though was a whole different kettle of fish. You had the open bar (you just can't complain about it), the installations still active (as aforementioned, heightened fun through beer goggles), yet the sticky honey like texture of the air from what must be all of East London's fashionistas cramming up against each other in a bid to get noticed, or perhaps notice themselves in the reflection of somebody else, made the atmosphere, dare I say it pretentious and a tad uncomfortable. Yet who cares. It's free. And there were some decent performances that lay ahead.

After a rampage set from Flats, a drooling pastiche from Yuck, and a set from Ronson, one Kele takes to the stage. Eager to see what the former Bloc man has to offer, the ballroom quickly packs out. Having already listened to a handful of tracks from his solo debut The Boxer, I wasn't overly thrilled by his new direction, seeing how Bloc Party's last effort now seems like a trial for Kele's new chosen path. Arriving infront of an electric crowd some 30 minutes late, Kele and Co. head straight into The Boxer's opener, Walk Tall. It's all interesting enough until microphone problems sees the whole band march back offstage to the sound of choral booing. A chap in a pork pie hat beckons to his co-worker that Kele's ego wasn't fulfilled enough, but that seems to me a little pot kettle black. The band pounce back soon enough before a thirsty crowd disperse completely, and begin Walk Tall once more. Clearly stricken by the clock, Kele plays Tenderoni in a bid to salvage lost time. By the time the beat drops we're completely enthralled by it, evidently putting to one side the fact that it sounds like a homage to Wiley, in an effort to show our appreciation for the newly formed solo artist. As a thank you, or an understanding that he's in a room full of Bloc Party fans, Kele performs a montage of Bloc Party's, well, more dancier grooves.

After Kele and his band exit through the backdoor, it all seems too obvious: such is the present admiration for Kele channelled through his success in Bloc Party, that the love shown tonight for his solo effort seems awash with pittance and naivety. Having listened to The Boxer considerably more since the gig, it clearly isn't an awful record, yet you can't help but question your enjoyment. Would you appreciate this album if Kele was an unknown fresh face, or are you living in earnest, in the corner of your insecurities, clutching onto a copy of Silent Alarm, and maybe at a push, A Weekend in the City, hoping for Bloc Party Part Four?