Intimacy in Photography

Hey.

Now this isn't a blog as such, but just the photos from the Athlete gig from Friday night. As you can see, I got pretty close. So close in fact that I could see the set list, which made the encore slightly - actually, very - predictable. Still a good gig nonetheless.

Whilst I'm here, in regards to yesterday's blog, I am not against any of the more senior acts playing at Glastonbury. Heck I love Madness and The Specials are quality also. Spinal Tap will always make me laugh when I watch the film/see their gigs. It's just that bloody Status Quo really - and I mean really - annoy me and they just so happened to trigger some angst.

Hope all is forgiven,

DC

Glasto, Jacko and Wimbledon-O?

Hey.

Remember how I said I would make my blog a Monday evening affair? Well, for this week only I'm doing it tonight (Sunday). Partly because I worry I will not be bothered to do it tomorrow after doing 6-2 at work (that's six in the morning, which is early, so very early), partly because doing so now means I don't have to endure watching Status Quo at Glastonbury which is on in the Childs' household currently. We will get to Glastonbury later though after my life has been put through it's weekly analysing on the Internet.

My life has been fairly dull this week. Work has been fine, with nothing being as nearly troublesome as the OctopusGate of the previous week. Although I did get pulled up for the size of my Salmon fillets and my parsley distribution. Seriously. Parsley distribution sounds like the worst job to receive when turning up to aid work to me;

"So what am I going to do here then? Build a school? Create a well? Curve the trend of illiteracy?"

"Err... no. Parsley distribution actually. I'm not lying it's an important job!"

"You are lying though aren't you?

"Yes, yes I am."

Regardless of that pointless monologue I still failed to distribute my parsley to Morrison's standard. The consequences of this I will share if/when they come. I doubt there will be consequences though to be honest.

On Friday, I went to see Athlete at the BA Club, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised at how good they were. A reviewer would call the gig "intimate", and heck, who am I to disagree? Me and my friends were literally (yes, literally) a metre away from the lead singer. My only concern beforehand was that I knew little of their material. The only song I knew properly was "Wires", but it turned out I knew more than expected. Overall a very good gig, closing with "Wires" which was dedicated to the Bromies!* I also exchanged Facebooks with the drummer of the support band "Capital" for £5 and their EP. Does this make me sad? I don't know. But if you're reading this, where did you get the link from? Exactly. Whilst we are talking music, I bought Alexisonfire's new album "Old Crows/Young Cardinals". I recommend.

Played cricket. Lost cricket. This is becoming a recurring theme which I'm not enjoying. I managed to do worse - albeit slightly- by scoring twelve runs. I have faith that we will do better though, like you care. Which I doubt.

As you can see, my life has been pretty dull this week, and with so many other things going on it would be nonsensical of me not to mention such events. So, let's start with the retirement home which is Glastonbury. I'm not ageist or anything like that, all I am saying is this; Status Quo, why? I mean, seriously, what is the point of them playing at it? I rather see someone with learning difficulties shout random words over and over again. Hence the success of Britain's Got Talent.

But they are not the only ones to go on board the SAGA coach to Glastonbury this year. Crosby, Stills and Nash, Springsteen, Madness, Neil Young. It's like pressing play on a docking station at a party without realising you took your Dad's iPod by accident. There were still some music from the 21st Century there like Dizzee Rascal, Kasabian, Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party, Pendulum. But - and this will make me look cool - I've seen them live before anyways.

Another great tradition we have here other than a nostalgic desire to bring back bands not from our own generation is Wimbledon. It annoys me that for two weeks of the year the British public suddenly realise that they are tennis fans. It annoys me further when people say and write that us Britons love tennis, for this is nonsense. If Britain loved tennis, we wouldn't have allowed Greg Rudeski to be British, would we? Nor would we would have required him to be so. We speak of great duels between Nadal and Federer, but how often, outside of the months of June and July, do you see "Nadal vs Fed" outside a pub? You see, Britain does not love tennis at all; Britain loves Wimbledon, and there's a difference. We - I say "We" for I am as guilty as everyone else - love the tradition of it all; the tennis whites, the Robinsons fruit juice, the frantic running of the ball boys even when it seems so pointless and, ultimately, the inevitable demise of the Great British hope. I have a feeling Andy Murray is in danger of an almighty collapse. My bet is against Andy Roddick. Speaking of almighty collapses....

Michael Jackson. His death has just been in the news, he has been the news. Personally, I heard the rumours that he had died whilst on Twitter, though I did not receive full consolation until Sickipedia had broken down. It's a shame that he will probably be remembered for "touching kids" even when this was proven otherwise.

Will his funeral be televised to the same standard of the news channels on Thursday night, though? When it was confirmed that he had died I watched the coverage that the channels offered, and it varied wildly. Al Jazerra, for instance, had no coverage at all at his death. Ignorance! Apparently, there's some voting problem in Iran or something like that. Bloomberg TV also showed no coverage. Once again, ignorance! Surely they can see that his death is very important economically. Think of all the CDs bought after his passing - an 8000% increase in sales is reported - and what are these bought with? Money of course! Get it sorted, Bloomberg.

They should take some tips from Sky News. To support their pictures from Los Angeles, they had Uri Geller on the phone. Now, Uri Geller had just found out that his close friend had died, and then has to endure Kay Burley on the phone. Tough evening. He probably hasn't been this distraught since the time he found out bending spoons with your mind was not as cool here as it is in Israel. Especially when you can bend it physically. Even I can do that. It's well easy.

Anyways, that's me for this week. I don't have any plans so next week's blog could well be me commenting on Andy Murray's defeat. Oh well.

All the best,

DC

*"Bromies" is the term that myself and my friends Cameron and Stevie refer ourselfs as. It stands for "Brothers", "Homies" and "Roomies" from our London trip. And yes, we are very cool.

Oasis, Octopus, Orwell, etc.

Hey everyone,

I know I said I'd write on Friday in the last blog, but by Friday the enthusiasm was gone for writing for some reason, so I'll make this a Monday thing if that's ok with you? Having published the last blog with a bit of success I think I will carry on - and yes Yan, I will drop the "Stay Classy".

So, the last seven days then. Between Tuesday and Thursday I was in Edinburgh to see Oasis (and Kasabian, The Enemy and Reverend & the Makers, although the latter not so much) at Murrayfield. But before we get to that we must discuss the night before, in which Cameron and I went "out" in Edinburgh with a few Edinburghen (?) friends. I must say I had fun - heck it's hard not to with £1 shots - and I'll probably do it again. We negotiated the foreign (well, foreign to us) city well, though our success heavily relied on Cameron's iPhone. It really does have an app for everything, and we enjoyed the travelling aspect so much a trip to Germany next summer is looking possible.

Oasis. Amazing. The build up started for us at half two, roughly six hours before they were on stage, but those six hours proved to be eventful. For a start, the cue waiting to enter Murrayfield was, for me at least, the first time I saw Neds. Not the type you get here, they are like a diluted version of the Ned principle, a sort of Ned-Lite almost. These were genuine. It fitted the stereotype perfectly; "Trackie bottoms" tucked into socks? Check. Buckfast? Check. General deviant behaviour? You get where I am going here... When standing in the cue I could not help but feel the way a Westerner does whilst on a Safari in Africa, or even a visitor to a zoo. I felt like an outsider, someone who didn't belong to their environment. Whilst watching their behaviour it was a mixture of intrigue in fear; I wanted to watch on but at the same time eye-contact would be the death of me. All this before the gates had even opened.

I'll skip Reverend & the Makers when discussing the night. It wasn't that they were bad, infact "Heavyweight Champion of the World" and "He Said He Loved Me" were really good songs. But the lead singer just ooozed tube-ness. His constant peace signals to overcome one-fingered salutes just annoyed me. I ain't a hippy (or a Japanese girl according to Rachael's photos) so I don't do all that stuff. Crowd participation has never been my forte, anyway.

Looking back, I still can't believe that The Enemy or Kasabian could be billed as "support acts" to anyone, Oasis included. The sets they put on were immense, with particular highlights "Away From Here" and "Fire". I recommend them to anyone, and I am now annoyed The Enemy played Oban and I didn't go. Hindsight's wonderful. Remember those people shouting "LSD's for Sale" last week? Well, it was at Oasis too, but on a lesser extent. This time, it was "Poppers For Sale". Are poppers legal? They must be. Either that or the Police have lost the use of their eyes, although that wouldn't surprise me. They can't even hold on to their name tags (in reference to those riots a few months back?)

At roughly 8.30pm, Oasis arrive on stage. And for the next two hours they were superb. They were typical Oasis; Liam, in Parker, staring out the crowd for what seemed for like an eternity at a time; Noel quietly getting on with his own business on guitar while occasionally taking over the vocals, usually with a better singing voice, heck a better voice full stop, than his brother. During "Wonderwall" I phoned Stevie, to which he replied:

"I don't believe than anybody feels the way I do about you now... Utter jealousy! xxx"

I know I'd be jealous. And the three kisses, for the record, that's just how we roll. I received similar phone calls from friends at the Take That gigs at Hampden on Friday and Sunday. I don't care what anyone says, "It Only Takes A Minute" is an awesome song. But would I swap Oasis for the Circus-styled affair? My sexuality says "no".

By Friday I was back working again, which was a reality check if ever I needed one again. Edinburgh, along with Graduation and Rockness, had been amazing and what did I return to? The cleaning of an Octopus, that's what. It sounds bad, yes? Times that by ten. Then add having to dispose of the insides, which I can only describe as yellow puss. Hence, Octopus? Let me know if that is the case.

Played cricket again. Lost cricket again. But at least I scored some runs - 13 to be precise - so it could have been worse, I suppose. I went out Saturday with Stevie for what was meant to be "a quiet pint". With Stevie though, this is seldom the case and four hours later I found myself at Ossians Disco. Again. Secretly I'm ashamed that I always find myself there on a Saturday. Then again, it was actually good for once. It also re-iterated that I will never get bored of "Bonkers". Or "Boom Boom Pow" for that matter.

It's been a busy week, yet throughout this I have managed to read "Animal Farm" and I am currently two-thirds through "1984", both by George Orwell as you probably know. I'm really enjoying 1984, it just feels really relevant these days despite being written in 1940-something. It feels good just to read - and through this write - again.

Busy week again this week, working all week then Athlete at the BA on Friday. I'll let you know how I get on.

DC

RockNess and all that it brings

So, RockNess. Where exactly do I begin on this weekend? For a start I feel slightly like a fraud for Not arriving til midday on the Saturday and leaving fairly promptly after the Prodigy on Sunday (ps thank you Carrie and Grant for lifts to and fro), meaning I only "slept" one night rather than the three that most people I knew did.

Over-excited and under-fed, arriving at the festival I found myself under the influence of my strongbow way earlier than expected, and between 2 and 6 on Saturday afternoon it all seems a bit blurrish. I didn't miss anything major, the only reason I wanted to go on Saturday was Dizzee. Rascal.

Luckily I got there (both physically and mentally) in time to see Mr Rascal on the main stage. And I was not disappointed. The songs I wasn't too familiar with (such as Old School) were good; the ones I did know (Sirens, Dance Wiv Me, Fix Up Look Sharp) were spectacular. Once again I feel like some sort of deviant for happily singing the words which are based on racial discrimination, for example "Run when you hear the sirens comin', I can hear the sirens comin", but saying that should I? I just really like the song is all.

Which leads me to "Bonkers". The song is so simple, barely a dozen lines which work in a easy rhyming way, but it is wonderful. My improvised dance routine, which involved a clever - or at least I thought it was clever - bit in the "sex and violence" line was a particular highlight. Basement Jaxx followed Dizzee, and they too were really good, opening with "Good Luck" (my favourite Jaxx song). Only low light was the acoustic version of Romeo, was not required.

The night between Saturday night - I think it's called Saturday night but I haven't researched - went smoothly. For some unbeknown reason I ended up camping with "across the water" people, only three of which I knew. Relatively sober now in a crowd of drunk strangers, I became strangely more sarcastic; every little thing they said I criticised, every song they chanted I corrected them on their grammar ( I taught someone how to sing "Everybody Nose" by N.E.R.D 'properly'). And I'm not going to lie, I had a great time. No wonder Charlie Brooker has such a good time on "News Wipe", his humour is spreading. The rarity of sleep also crept my way at RockNess - six hours to be precise which is a lot in festival time - and for that I am very grateful.

Sunday was a different, somewhat better day in Dores. Beginning with a breakfast consisting of a Bacon Roll, Cider and Ice Cream (why?) the cider proved to be one of only two drinks I had the whole. I basically gave away my rum because during my time at the campsite I realised I was there for the music, and not for the add ons - both legal and illegal - that others go for.

Drugs are a problem at festivals like these. It's not that I'm some ignorant country boy who did not expect drugs to play a big part at RockNess - I am asthmatic after all - but it was the openess of it all that took me back. People going round shouting "LSDs for sale" in the tone of 1920s Paper Boy, for some reason I don't remember it being like that last year. They were all like people who auditioned for "Layer Cake" and failed, both black and white but with the same bloody Danny Dyer accent.

But aye. The music. It was what I was there for after all. And my and your God it was worthwhile. There was the obviously brilliant performances of the Prodigy and Soulwax, both I like and Soulwax in particluar. The remixes of Robot Rock and Phantom were superb. Luckily for me I managed to get to the very front in the Clash Tent to witness. The "Radio Soulwax" t-shirt I purchased, despite leaving me skint, is so cool it's worth it. Hopefully I'll see Justice soon. Biffy Clyro were OK, but the voice of the lead left alot to be desired, so much so I think I could've sang better. And that's saying something.

There were a few surprising acts that since arriving home I have looked up, Scratch Perverts and The Whip in paticular. The Pendulum DJ set and Chase & Status were also impressive and I left the festival with the same outlook of dance music that I had last year when I saw Digitalism, Simian and Boys Noize last year; that it is, in the right context, bloody rather good.

The weekend saw me meeting people I did not expect to; my cousin Laura, and Eve, a girl who'd I never met previously but knew "through Bebo" and is a big Dallas Green fan like myself. She has her ticket for Alexisonfire in October, I'll get mine on Friday when I get paid since money will be tight until then. I also met a girl I tried to chat up once at a "Mod Stud Con"; well, I didn't recognise her but she recognised me. I think I have one of those faces? Either way it was still embarrasing.

But that was RockNess 2009. Will I go next year? Who knows. I prefer Gigs to be honest. The money I spent on RockNess is the equivilant of seven gigs. It's a toughy. Speaking of gigs, Oasis on Wednesday at Murrayfield with Cameron should be really good, especially with Kasabian and The Enemy. I'l let you know how that, and the night out with Edinbugger folks on Tuesday, goes when I return to my laptop, which is looking like Friday night/ Saturday morning.

Stay classy,

DC

ps Hannah and Rachael, hope J-land continues to be magic! And I want some Mountain Dew now.