Article Issue 9 by Article Magazine

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Article Magazine Issue 9 Gay Geography Fire Station Doc Fest Intellectuals The American Dream The Beat Is The Law Free

Article Issue 9 November 2009

Article is a guide to the space that you are in. Connecting urbanism, pop culture, fashion, music and criticism Article is driven by the desire to demonstrate that the normal and everyday is in fact fascinating and absorbing. For articles, comment and criticism and to view back issues www.articlemagazine.co.uk contact@impursuit.com Bank Street Arts, 32-40 Bank Street, Sheffield, S1 2DS Edited and Produced: Ben Dunmore & Alasdair Hiscock Some More Design: Thomas ‘Heg’ Heginbotham Advertising: Ben Dunmore ben@impursuit.com Photos: Tom Jackson (Boy 8-Bit), Alasdair Hiscock, Ben Dunmore, Tom Cubbin, Site Gallery Printed by Juma 1000 copies

Special Thanks to: John and Gareth at Bank Street Arts, and all of our new neighbours here. We really like you. Ben Duong and Rutland Arms for organising the Issue 9 Launch party. Mike Forrest and Bungalows and Bears for setting up the Issue 10 Launch party. Rupert, Kid Acne, Lucy and Archipelago for being chill and stuff. Hussain Currimbhoy, Natalie McKay, Rachel Smith for all the Doc Fest dvds, photos and words. Site Gallery, we are looking forward to the new exhibition. All at Dempsey’s. Apologies to: Nikolaus Pevsner, we know it was you not Kevin.

6. The Life Worth Living The Definitive Guide to What’s Happening 8. The Intellectual Grudge Match of the Decade How we wish it could have been Jason Slade

10. Three Wolf Moon Meme What is Up With The Wolf Tee? Lauren Park

14. American Dreams The Delusions of Arthur Kade Ben Dunmore

16. Scam The Grand Children Celebrity, Proto-Boy Bands and Obscurity Orla Foster

21. Sneak Preview of Doc Fest Why You Need to Go to Doc Fest Hussain Currimbhoy

Choice Picks From Doc Fest Reviewed 22. Taqwacore: The Birth of Punk Islam 23. Disco and Atomic War 24. Videocracy 25. Kings of Pastry

26. The Fire Station Sevenstone and Nuclear War Alasdair Hiscock

32. Gay The Strange Geography of Gay Scenes Tom Cubbin

Interviews 39. The Beat is the Law

Alasdair Hiscock

42. Neon Indian

Ben Dunmore

45. Boy 8-Bit

Tom Banham

47. Man About Town

Ben Dunmore

Had we put in a piece about cars, some needless un-Mac related gadgetry and a pair of tits on the cover, this issue would have been the greatest lads’ mag ever. Unfortunately, we didn’t quite have the balls to do it. Instead, I can uncomfortably say, Issue 9 is the superficially homoerotic issue. In addition to a feature on Sheffield’s gay geography and another on a fire station, there are several pieces on male delusion, aspiration, and intellectualism. To top it off the interviews are with or about gentlemen of varying hairiness. Perhaps I am exaggerating, it’s not all gay. We have created a new preview section which aims at letting you know about what art, culture and fashion shiz is going down around town. And we have also worked hard on providing our own preview to DocFest, with some help of course. Finally, to bolster our masculine credentials we have reviewed films on hetero topics…like pastry and disco. 5

article 9 the life worth living / / / / / / / / / /

Commissioned by the Site gallery, this exhibition culminates a two year project by artists Rebecca French and Andrew Mottershead who have travelled around the world documenting small shops and the worlds they create. The exhibition itself is at once an art project and an exercise in Human Geography, ticking all the right museum boxes. Begins 21 November.

FrenchMottershead @ Site Gallery

Galvanize Festival @ galvanizefestival.com

At Article we really love the idea of industrial tourism. And closest Sheffield has to this, so far failing to have a decent sized commemorative museum, is its annual all things metal festival, Galvanize. Particularly eye-catching in the program are the tours available of the Kutrite Scissor Factory. Definitely the place for some heavy grinding action. Throughout November.

Lazy Oaf @ The Bakery

Unless you are blessed with a Glaswegian temperament, visibly wearing your latest print tee out of the house can be a testing experience in the autumn weather. Fortunately, with great foresight, Lazy Oaf have printed a new set of designs onto some comfy cotton jumpers. Graphic street wear gets Autumnal yo!

Acne Shirt @ Ideology

Say ‘Denim Shirt!’ and most people with think of a cowboybiker-metaller who has put all his Iron Maiden shirts in the wash. Say ‘Acne Denim Shirt’ and those in the know think of a causal Swedish gentleman siting on a Barcelona chair, with desert boots on his feet, a MacBook on his lap, sipping espresso from an incredibly small cup.

Doc Fest

@ Showroom and others

For any aspiring ‘media-types’ DocFest is definitely the place to be. There are literally peeps coming from all over the world for this, and you can blag your way in and rub some shoulders. Damn, you may even see Alan Yentob. But seriously, the freshest documentaries in the world are one show here, which could provide a memorable alternative to your usual Orange Wednesday Cineworld Burger King excursion. (Keep reading and you’ll see our highlights and a piece by the festival’s programmer!) 4-8 November.

Animal Print

@ Syd and Mallory

Blood Oath

@ Archipelago Works

Hand made cute dress plus cute animal print equals win. Put it on a cute girl and, well, someone call the cute brigade, there’s a shorty fire on the floor.

Samurai Umbrella @ Arcade

This latest exhibition features the work of illustrator French with some seasonally appropriate bloody skulls and the like. If you fancy something a bit darker for your walls, definitely worth a gander. There will be twelve different prints all limited to runs of six. That’s like 666 times 4, er, sumthin’. 31st October – 14th November.

If you’re anything like me, a Quaker upbringing meant you didn’t get toy weapons and had to improvise. Inspired by that childish impulse to use an umbrella as a sword, this Samurai Umbrella immediately awakens your inner ninja/ knight/pirate/space-alien. 7

The crowd in Madison Square Gardens have not been this agitated for some time, but you’ll have to take my word for it. They sit in a respectful almost silence, some clean their spectacles, some read their programmes, and others whisper excitedly about the main event: the big fight. In the red corner is Alain de Botton: de Botton (I pronounce it to rhyme with bottom) rose to prominence explaining how reading Proust or Plato could change the lives of the public, but more recently has pointed out that the jobs they do are pointless and puzzled over why they do them at all (think about it Alain!). In the blue corner is Kevin McCloud, inspiration for every fledgling architectural career in the country he is the man who took Bauhaus to the British (or should

that be brutish?) public. Tonight’s bout, then, is a grudge match between public intellectuals, between intelligent people (well…) that inhabit the realm of mass media, and, if you want a cheeky tip, my money’s on McCloud. To conceive of the public-intellectual one must marry two not easily reconciled concepts: the public and the intellectual. The public, according to popular opinion at least, are stupid, susceptible to any amount of guff and balls, and seem to muddle along quite happily blanketed in ignorance. The intellectual, in stark contrast, is clever, well informed, discerning, often odds with the world, and certainly not content to take the status quo at face value. The concept of the public-intellectual, therefore, is perhaps best understood in dialectical terms. The synthesis of two out-dated and poorly thought out concepts, public intellectuals should 8

allow us to subvert the notion that we are stupid and that big ideas and profound arguments are impenetrable or beyond us. To his credit McCloud’s medium is television. Through his presenting work on the universally adored Grand Designs he has gone some way towards showing the public that there is more to architecture than bland shopping precincts and Barratt homes. McCloud has demonstrated that design is important, that it can profoundly influence how you live. And the programmes he presented documenting the regeneration of Castleford in Yorkshire show that this is not just the case if you

can afford to build your own house: it is for and influences everyone. In a sense Grand Designs demonstrates how abstract concepts are realised: building a house out of straw, out of glass, out of a box from Ikea, or a project that’s environmentally friendly conserves a building’s historical character, destroys it, or is radically egalitarian. As Grand Designs has done this McCloud has introduced countless people to architectural and design history, demonstrating how this influences current practice. There must be people who would never have heard of modernism, minimalism, environmentalism, Le Corbusier, Bauhaus or even Gothic and classical architecture if it wasn’t for Kevin McCloud. Alain de Botton aims to be relevant, informative and interesting too; he has tried to show that Plato and Proust are for everyone, but really shown how they could be for people who are a bit like him. Sadly, I’m not sure that Charlie Brooker’s analysis is too far off the mark: ‘a pop philosopher, who’s forged a lucrative career stating the bleeding obvious in a series of poncey, lighter-than-air books, aimed at smug Sunday supplement pseuds looking for something clever-looking to read on the

plane.’ To his credit de Botton has tried to branch out to talk to the rest of us, but he has managed to say nothing at all. Recently, for instance, as well as lending his brain to the problems of work Alain has spent a lot of time at the airport. He believes that airports are a grand metaphor for contemporary life and has ventured into the ant farm to tell us about it. Here, sadly, dwells the problem: we’ve all been to airports/had crappy jobs/stayed in travel lodges/got a bus/DONE NORMAL STUFF. For Alain these things are a treat, he either thinks they’re fantastic or wonders why we do them at all, but we know they’re fucking rubbish and do them every day because we have to. If you live in some shit pit of a town in the middle of nowhere or if you’re some nobody businessman who has been to Rome, but ventured no further than the business park on its outskirts, it is not helpful to have Alain tell you how lucky you are. If he was reporting from Rome you get the feeling that Alain de Botton, walking past the Colosseum, would communicate how many people he had seen using Blackberries or iPods. Wouldn’t it be much nicer to have Kevin McCloud actually tell you about Rome in his wonderful four part series Kevin McCloud’s Grand Tour? Yes, yes it

would. We want Kevin McCloud; he’s much better looking and cooler than Alain. Oh, Kevin, take us one at a time. Tell us things we didn’t know without patronising us. Talk to Italian builders and then tell us what they said. Oh Kevin… And before we get carried away this is why Kevin wins the big fight, why he is the quintessential ‘public intellectual’. Offering escapism he allows us to feel both connected to the big ideas in a grand human history and worthy of them. Sorry, Alain de Botton, it’s nothing personal, but we know we’re rubbish really and as you alternate between glee and befuddlement in the face of our cosmic triviality we don’t feel any less trivial. You do have a role to play, I’m sure, but not that of the true public intellectual (who must make us want to study not the object of study); Kevin will hold that title for a long time yet. A 9

‘I walked from my trailer to Walmart with the shirt on and was immediately approached by women’ ‘This tee has three wolves on it which, of course, makes it intrinsically sweet’ ‘This tee cures AIDS’

From childhood it was drilled into me that wolves were not good guys. First there was that cross-dressing, child-luring bastard. Then, ripping up foam fingers and rampages fuelled by an insane amount of steroids, Gladiators’ ‘Wolf’ only amplified my fear. I think I can be forgiven for my alarm at the sight of Simon Le Bon predatorily chasing a young girl through the Sri-Lankan jungle in Duran Duran’s video for ‘Hungry like the Wolf’, but it is all relative. However, despite all this the image of a wolf has become quite the icon of late, and has dominated our attire for a good year or so now. Have the wolves been wrongly represented all this time? I may as well begin by laying my prejudices on the table. There are two types of people that I think would make an ideal candidate for sporting the Wolf print trend. Firstly, there’s the middle aged, socially inept man. He spends his weekend in Games Workshop collecting figures, playing Dungeons and Dragons and teaming his Tee with some casual lounging trousers and a moustache.

This man associates himself with the wolf, he’s a bit of a lone ranger and probably a sexual predator. In this instance, the Wolf Tee acts as a red light to avert the general public to the potential danger of this man. One wolf point. Secondly, there’s the ageing tourist. They went to Canada once and discovered spirituality. Not much else to be said about this one, teams their Tee with a fine collection of stone wash double denim. Also likes camping holidays and Nudism. Minus two wolf points. However, now there are new types of contenders we have to deal with. Belgian fashion designer Martin Margiela’s 2008 range ensured that the wolf print became an integral part of last year’s high-end fashions. Similarly, the abundance of animal prints in high street stores ascertained that this fad reached Britain’s bright young things. Sure, we love our bit of irony. From the popularity of House of Holland’s tongue in cheek slogan Tees emblazoned with the likes of ‘Cum Again Christopher Kane’, to middle aged men

sporting a pair of Crocs in the supermarket. But in May sales of the ‘Three Wolf Moon’ T-shirt shot up a staggering 2300% on Amazon, making it one of the top selling products. I refuse to believe this is simply down to the popularity of Flight Of The Conchord’s Bret McKenzie and his animal inspired attire. As it turns out, the popularity of the Tee is largely down to a viral prank in which thousands of ironic reviews were given on Amazon. As I read through the reviews I suddenly got it. ‘I walked from my trailer to Walmart with the shirt on and was

immediately approached by women’ exclaims one happy customer. ‘I gave one to my boyfriend and as soon as he put it on I became pregnant’ said one expectant other. ‘This Tee cures AIDS’ commented another who was probably a bit happy. And so I am left feeling just a little bit ashamed at my ignorance and also feeling like I’m missing out somewhat… one wolf tee please. A

for effective marketing and targeted promotions email mathew@dontpaniconline.com

IMAGINE

GREATNESS

PEOPLE.

KADE STYLE. Part 1: The son of immigrants grows up in the abject poverty of the Philadelphia Ghettoes, raised by a single grand-mother. They are poor. They share one room. His father leaves for a mistress or alcohol, beneath his breath remarking that the boy will never amount to anything. Part 2: Some years later, the boy overcomes hardship through sheer graft, optimism and charisma. Nothing stops him. He goes west, to California. He becomes an actor, a star. This is America baby - you can do it all! Heard this story before? Remove the specifics of geography and emphasise success, rather than profession, and you have the American Dream: a cliché worn so completely threadbare - in film, TV and novels - that it has become a normal facet of even non-American existence. ‘Go and make something of yourself ’ echoes a disembodied paternal voice. Yet, whilst we may talk about the American Dream - driving a metaphorical Buick, on a direct course to a metaphorical Country Club signifying

success - it is rare to see anyone openly pursuing it. And even if we do talk about the American dream it is usually in a sarcastic, patronising or condemnatory fashion. So, to see the familiar narrative unconsciously unfold is a truly bizarre experience; we are gifted with Arthur Kade. In certain internet circles he is notorious. A self obsessed misogynist ‘douche-bag’ who provides almost every demographic of society with a reason to hate him. Adding to his eponymous website daily, he updates his ‘fans’ with news about auditions, interviews and minor (and I stress MINOR) roles in obscure cable network productions. Apart from the odd sexist diatribe, most famous being his Kade scale where he awards Halle Barry and Heidi Klum lowly 8s as they are ‘cute girls, but not date worthy’, these are dull. What is gripping about Arthurkade.com is its detail of the urbane: Kade likes Bloody Marys, Kade likes tilapia with ketchup, someone in the street called Kade an asshole. It seems that as he writes, he believes everything about him makes him the world’s most interesting person, when in fact he is the world’s dullest. His delusion is gripping; emblematic of what can only be described as ‘the expectation of success’. Kade has bought the narrative of the American Dream, truly believing it is his. Looking at the history of the American Dream can provide deeper insight into the cliché Kade may not be aware that he is part of. Coined as a term in a now obscure historical work by John Truslow, the American Dream conceptually has its origins in the more nationalist idea of ‘Manifest Destiny’, which proclaimed the God given right of the white settlers to colonise the North American continent. The American Dream arose after this legend was fulfilled and the land colonised. For the American Dream was reference to personal, and not general, success. It was owning a house, a car, a TV. It stereotypically involved nothing more than being middle-class and keeping up with the Joneses. And this fiction continued well into the fifties and sixties. America at this time, lets ignore the

racism/Vietnam/sexism thing, was at its happiest, and its most prosperous. The dream was in full swing. Then, something happened. Just like Manifest Destiny before, there came a point where there was no more to conquer. Everyone had a house, TV, stove, car. Sure there were - and for that matter still are - immigrants coming in who wanted these things, but for a huge number of Americans, the goal had been reached. Still, everything wasn’t quite a dream. The second phase of the American Dream, the contemporary one, is perhaps informed by two things; the need to have better things than what you and yourneighbours already have, and the profusion of media and subsequent cult of celebrity. And perhaps it is just this that is most important. For not only do you need to be rich, but you must be seen as being rich and successful. Success and fulfilment are based on other people recognising you as having them and then being jealous and writing about it in Heat magazine or something. Thus, the proverbial pursuit of our personal 15 minutes of fame. Few, however, would be under the illusion that what has been described as the current phase of the American Dream is confined in anyway to American alone. For it is a seductive narrative that many of us are compelled to in varying degrees. One only needs to switch on the TV at prime-time to see someone trying to be a star, whether it is X-factor, Big Brother, or America’s Next Top Model. All of these people are striving for the same thing, Celebrity Arthur Kade fascinates because he seems

to truly believe that the narrative is his. What he does not seem to realise is that the American Dream is fraught with peril. In the tenth grade, every American high-school student is told to write a paper about the Great Gatsby and the American Dream. Fitzgerald wrote the novel at the same time as the phrase was coined, and the two have been forever linked. Gatsby’s rise is one of pure self-invention. He creates the ultimate man, in as far as he conceives him, yet still fails to reach his own goal. In the end, he lies floating dead in his own swimming pool. Another popular rags-to-riches-to-death story is Scarface, where the dealer comes to America, makes his money and then dies in a coke fuelled fury firing a machine gun. And for the more thespian, Willy Loman’s car crash in Death of Salesman by Arthur Miller captures a similar sentiment. Arthur Kade is fascinating to watch for the single reason that he can never be fulfilled. It seems that if Kade follows the path we have laid out his future is grim. Delusions of grandeur are rarely fulfilled – they are more often shot out of the sky instead. Success for Athur Kade should only ever be one of two things. Either, he will fail to succeed at being an Actor, and give up his dream, possibly jumping from a Philly Penthouse after a big cocaine binge. Or he will move on from his childish invention, perhaps becoming a real actor in the process. Both ways, Arthur Kade, as he is online, must die. Unfortunately, whilst his demise might be imminent, our love of celebrity, and lack of interest in their origin after they have achieved success, may also mean that Arthur Kade stays with us for some time. An emblem of narcissism and empty desire for success, substantiated by utterly nothing at all. A

SCAM THE

GRANd CHILDREN Do you remember 2001? It was a pretty grey time. Trapped in the overhang of the Nineties, it was an era which pre-dated irony, self-knowledge, drollery and MySpace profiles. It was sedate. Wearing a long-sleeved top under a t-shirt was considered subversive and Converse was widely believed to be the footwear of clowns. Even so, for every twenty-one year old who can breathe a sigh of relief at not having to live out their glory days in 2001, there is a thirty-something who looks back on that era with a deep fondness reverberating from their jowls. In this spirit of yearning, disbanded pop-punk outfit, the Dum Dums, have released a retrospective film entitled ‘The Ghost Gets Around’. The project was put together by the band’s drummer, Stuart ‘Baxter’ Wilkinson, whose fairly apologist tagline “I like to make little lo-fi movies” suggests that there is life after the road. Because life on the road would surely have precluded any such wholesome hobby. Life on the road was “a cross 16

between Almost Famous and Spinal Tap”. So, what can Stuart’s elegy to hedonism possibly hold? Let us see. After preliminaries, such as the opening credits and footage of the band busting a spleen on stage, we plummet straight to the seedy depths of rock’n’roll. “I met Josh on a classical music course at Chichester University in 1997”, grins Stuart. Oh, he isn’t joking. Anyway, that was the start of it all, the start of the band’s dizzying ascent to fame, which will be dolled up in smoke and mirrors and various careful strategies to convey an adulation of Beatlemania proportions — NOW! They were huge! Here is proof. Here is the band’s name being shrieked on a litany of Saturday morning children’s programmes. Perhaps the layman’s equivalent would be to proudly present a montage of your form tutor calling your name at registration, but you can’t knock the cumulative effect, it works. Next — footage of legions and legions of people gathered to witness their outdoor performances, young fillies whipped into mild hysteria. Yes,

“Beneath a gleaming Boddingtons sign...

Josh Doyle

excretes

into his bare hands.” perhaps a peasant like yourself could achieve a crowd like this if you gathered up a surge of everyone you ever met, all your life’s accumulation of babysitters, bosses, barbers, perhaps, but would they be clutching inflatables? Sure, what difference does it make whether you’re headlining or sitting at the bottom of the bill anyhow. These boys must have been gods, to play on a big stage like that. ‘The Ghost Gets Around’ toys with rockumentary convention, of course. We watch as the boys swing their guitars — precariously, as if to smash them! — and throw out the kind of jargon any hackneyed journalist would baulk at. There’s plenty of talk about being on a “roller-coaster” and experiencing “a real ‘we’ve arrived’ moment”. Josh even goes so far as to pledge their mission statement, which was to “turn kids back to rock”. And to have a big ol’ heap of crazy times while they were at it. Stuart, now thin and sallow and communicating from what appears to be a bat cave,

marvels at a memory of the band going on stage to perform the theme tune from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. His eyes mist over and he seems barely able to contain his disbelief at the larks he and his bandmates once had. He reminisces about antics, such as staying up til 5am in Tokyo, and his bandmates attempt to follow suit. Despite continued efforts to furnish the narrative with salty anecdote, however, when pumped for scandal, Doyle looks blank. You can see it in his eyes, nothing springs to mind but his tour manager tucking him up with a hot water bottle. “You’re having so much fun when you’re wasted, your bass player’s puking his guts out and there’s some weird little chick in leopardskin underwear”, he improvises at last. Luckily for him, nobody is looking to catch him out because nobody can really remember the band. Listen: the Dum Dums were not a “boyband”. Oh no. If confirmation of this were required, we find it beneath a gleaming Boddingtons sign, as Josh Doyle excretes into his bare hands. Praise the lord. I was scared I’d be able to introduce him to my 17

“Not only is success

relative, but it can be measured in Entirely

imaginary terms”

maiden aunt. But — and let this be a mantra — there is life after the road. The other two members have gone on to form Rogue State, a rock outfit riddled with existential queries: according to their press release, they have found that “the instant pop songs they set out to write [get] hijacked by questions and circumstance”. Meanwhile Josh Doyle has moved to Nashville to embark upon a solo career. We know this because he has a mailing list and he frequently emails his fans with feedback that they themselves have written: “Thanks for an awesome night last night, you were amazing as always, I have just finished at university and chose to celebrate with seeing you! haha!!” That’s smart advertising for you, both written and devoured by its target audience.

Simply by talking about something, as though it were a phenomenon, you can generate a phenomenon. We realise now, of course, that the Dum Dums were a flash in the pan, whose only true legacy was to supply a prototype for Busted, that no-brainer pop group who also liked singing through their tongues, who knew their audience and took to playing the school circuit with extra-strength hair gel and undiluted glee. But to look at the Dum Dums now, with their little jaded eyes and sagging chins, well, you suddenly recall the hair on their chests, the kittens they used to slaughter on stage and the longlegged supermodels they would pollinate each and every dawn. Two: 2009 is not built for self-delusion. Bands these days are more aware of their ubiquity. Playing the newcomers stage at Glastonbury is no longer the gossamer of dreams, but a feasible goal. Having your single put onto vinyl makes for a good temporary brag to your house mates and will give you somewhere to rest your mug of coffee in the intervening years between living the dream and producing the nostalgic feature film, but it does not make you immortal. So how about it. Try this at home. Cavort in a bus, do shots of mustard, rupture some expensive equipment and capture it all on tape. Add commentary. Scam the grandchildren. Make it look like it happened. A

What, then, can we learn from ‘The Ghost Gets Around’? One: Not only is success relative, but it can be measured in entirely imaginary terms. 18

Stills from music video by the band.

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Article P

reviews

doc fest Hussain Currimbhoy Doc Fest Programmer.

Documentary is like the Grandmaster Flash of cinema: without it there would be no cinema. In fact, to me, everything is a documentary. Rock clips to TV ads – the shape is different, but it’s all really a recording of life in some form, right? Yet doc directors constantly push shit uphill getting their films backed, distributed and seen.

they tell us we are in Sheffield, few folk mention that Sheffield Doc/Fest is, like, one of the biggest documentary festivals in the world. Documentarist or not it’s good to know that Nick Broomfield, Michael Moore, I’ve been programming the Kim Longinotto and Morgan Sheffield Doc/Fest since 2008 Spurlock have been guests at so I get to see docs from past festivals. Doc/Fest 09 is varying perspectives. Last year days away (eeeek!) so let me an American director came get it off my chest: I’m rather to Doc/Fest with his film and sweaty about the appearance within moments of arriving he of ‘The September Issue’, was in the bar sounding like a director RJ Cutler, who is high grandfather version of Marty tailing it from LA for us to do a Scorsese while talking to UK masterclass. RJ is hysterical. I based directors: ‘You M****s heard he made Anna Wintour have it so f*** lucky here. We smirk. DA Pennebaker - Rock don’t get s*** at home. Have doc pioneer who still acts like you ever seen what a magnum Bob Dylan’s roadie - is coming can do…’ It is here I step in to with his new, brilliant film about introduce my new American pastry chefs (‘Kings Of Pastry’ friend to my old friend Johnnie is like the love child of Gordon Walker. Ramsey and doc ‘Spellbound’ from 2002. Laugh now but you Some would disagree at this will be on the edge of your seat, simple interpretation, but a point I guarantee it). Hara Kazuo from he’s kinda got. BBC, Channel 4 Japan is attending to present and the like have been behind ‘Extreme Private Eros’ too. It’s a some of the best documentaries 16mm doc he made in the 70s ever. Just this year ‘Man On Wire’ when his wife became a lesbian won the doc Oscar. and left him. Hell, when my girlfriend came out and left me Cut to: reality. Broadcaster the last thing I wanted to do was budgets are tighter. Audiences film her giving birth. Not so in and viewing habits are changing. Japan! Gotta admire the man for Some docs and fiction are now that at least. made to be seen purely online. If you work in the industry or just But If I were you, I’d be love docs, the way to keep up to lining up to see the Russian date and see theory in action is film about Tarkovsky and Sheffield Doc/Fest. Humble as his cinematographer. I’d be

checking out the doc about the Muslim Punk bad. I’d look up our film about how disco and Communism are like oil and water. Free tickets for students, by the way. Seriously. As for the 1500 filmmakers, distributors, buyers, broadcasters, sales agents, sound recordists, composers, and journalists that attend, they are here for the session programme, the MeetMarket and to party. The MeetMarket is Doc/ Fest’s version of a speed dating service where filmmakers with scripts and projects are matched up with decision makers from all over the world to get their ideas to the next stage. Each year several million Great British Pounds are raised to get docs on screen. We even have some of the finished films in the programme. First we think, then we party. For a fest of this weight that is only 4.5 days long, guests are regularly impressed by the way public and industry mingle and drink together like there is no tomorrow. I’ve just realised that Sheffield’s greatest strength as a city is what permeates into an elemental component of the Doc/Fest ethos: no hierarchy, please check your pretensions at the door. But if you have an imagination you are more than welcome. Sheffield Doc Fest runs from November 4-8 2009. 21

Doc Fest

Article Pic

re taqwaco Islam

The Birth

of Punk

Following a group of self-proclaimed Islamist Punks on a journey across America and Pakistan, Taqwaore poses questions about Islam, the American melting pot, and personal religious identity. The feature length documentary takes viewers into the personal lives of Michael Muhammad Knight and his fellow Taqwacore devotees. The story starts with Michael, who in 2004 published the book “The Taqwacores”. The underground novel described a fictional Islamic punk movement in upstate New York. As the documentary later explains, Knight wrote the book in order to cope with the religion he had converted to at the tender age of 15. To his surprise, however, this apparently cathartic literary exercise had great online success, ultimately causing young Muslims across North America to start a scene resembling what the book had described. The documentary is a compelling look at the American and Canadian punk kids who struggle 22

to find and walk a line between their traditional culture and the western culture within which they live in. “Taqwacore” might seem rambling: filmed over three years and without the director putting himself in a prominent narrative role. But far from being a preachy mission documentary, which it might so easily have been, the kids in the film are anything but pedantic or proselytising. Instead, to their credit, they come across as people genuinely striving to find a means of self-expression in, dare I say it, a post 9/11 world, where the difficulties of being a Muslim American can all too easily be assumed. This immediately endears us to the majority of the band members on the Taqwacore tour. Their music, lyrics and passion constantly on show through heartfelt performances of songs with lyrics ranging from the tearfully questioning, “Why do you hate hate hate me”, to the playfully provocative, “Muhammad was a punk rocker, you know tore shit up! Muhammad was a punk rocker. He had a Rancid Sticker on his pick-up truck!”

Director: Omar Majeed Country: Canada International Premiere Dates: 05 November, 14:55 Showroom 3, 06 November, 19:05 SIF Studio Watch for: Green school buses, Cannabis smoothies

acy

videocr

le Italian Te

Regime

Italy, 2009. Silvio Berlusconi not only controls the country’s politics but almost all of the Italian media, directly or indirectly. Besides holding stakes in many publishing houses, Berlusconi’s family also runs the country’s biggest commercial TV group, Mediaset, whose stations are notoriously famous not for Director: Erik Gandini quality programmes but for shallow Country: Sweden, entertainment. Denmark UK Premiere Director Erik Gandini lives in Sweden but grew up in Italy. He returns to Dates: 06 November, 19:20 his home country to take a critical Showroom 3. 07 November look behind the scenes of Italy’s 9:30 Showroom 3 media world and assess its influence Watch for: on both politics and media. Gandini Fascist youtube videos, tries to show how Berlusconi’s media greassy men, and scantilly attempts to create an uncritical clad Italian women. audience whose only wish is to

become famous and join the Premier’s friends’ glamour world. He follows a mechanic from the countryside whose biggest dream it is to become a TV star and who therefore goes to the gym, learns karate, practices singing and keeps going to auditions – in vain. 15 Year old school girls dream of becoming the weather girl on one of the channels – for two weeks in their life – and therefore accept humiliation in TV shows where they have to fight for the “job”. Videocracy is a stunning and exciting documentary about the connections between politics, media and society. It leaves a sour taste and paints a sinister picture of tellyrepublic Italy. 23

Doc Fest

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An autobiographical documentary set in the 70s and 80s Disco and Atomic War shows Cold War Estonia as a country that, due to its proximity to Finland, had become the frontier of Western influence in the eastern-bloc. The director tells his story of a child living in a world of subversive family and friends who partake in anti-Soviet activities such as watching Dallas, Knight Rider and Finnish instructional videos on disco dancing.

Director: Jaak Kilmi Country: Estonia, Finland UK Premiere Dates: 06 November, 21:40 Showroom 3. 08 November, 12:35 Showroom 2 Watch for: Retro glasses, Soviet Disco Moves, Mullets

Between reconstructed scenes of childhood activity ranging from schoolboy fun to receiving smuggled television receiving equipment, and in a wonderfully nostalgic landscape of casual sportswear and defunct car brands, are interviews with some of the fascinating characters behind the period. We meet the former head of Estonian state television, who finds himself held responsible for the Estonians’ failure to enjoy national TV; a sociologist commissioned by the authorities to undertake research

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into the national character and the effect that western propaganda was having; and an eccentric inventor whose powerful home made mercury receiving equipment blocks out the communication at a nearby nuclear missile facility. Overall the film paints a compelling picture of the common cultural experience, not by attempting to critique the value or ‘truth’ of each type, but simply through its sensitive understanding of popular culture. Small references – like talking to a car with your watch or the notably increased national birth rate Emmanuelle was broadcast – demonstrate the complexities of the media. In a sense, you can begin to see the rationale of blocking foreign signals as a possible means of corrupting minds, but at the same time, the reception of foreign media is taken in wonder and fascination - a window into another world entirely.

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Accompanied by the endearing pastry chef Jacquy Pfeiffer, Kings of Pastry reveals the world at the very top of French pastry making, where every four years, the Olympics of pastry production takes place in Lyon. Sixteen chefs face three gruelling days of waking up at 4am to produce lollipops, cream puffs, cakes, and most striking of all, their sugar masterpieces: tacky sculptures of sugar flowers and chocolate arks a meter high. The whole experience is comparable only to the pernickety judging of Master Chef mixed with the endurance of the Tour de France. But even that description is way off. All the chefs compete for the title of Meilleurs Ouvriers de France, MOF for short. An award given by the highest French official: the President himself. Apparently to be an MOF is the highest honour held in pastry making, such that fraudulently wearing the tricolour MOF collar is a criminal offence in France. So with passions

stry

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on their utmost edge, we watch the steady handed chefs create their works with the utmost care and love. That the documentary itself moves along with supremely calculated pace is no surprise: this was produced with the BBC by one of the biggest documentary making teams in the world, Pennebaker and Hegedus, and we will definitely be seeing it on our TV screens in the near future. But what it may lack in its originality of direction, it more than makes up for in its expert showing of a very strange and wonderful world. There is something reassuring watching the long segments of Gallic shrugging and confectionary sugar being molded into delicate ribbons set to Django Rheinhardt-esque guitar.

Director: Chris Hegedus & D A Pennebaker Country: USA, UK, Netherlands World Premiere Dates: 06 November, 17:45 Showroom 1 Watch for: Gallic shrugs, Old men intellectualising pastry 25

THE FIRE STATION.

Sheffieldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s former central fire station will soon be demolished to make way for redevelopment. This is a major part of the Sevenstone plan for the city centre, which will bring a greater number of shops into the empty spaces via a half billion pound mixture of Liverpool One outdoor style shopping complexes and more familiar American Mall style structures. The monetary and civic values of this project are highly debatable. As of now, however, only demolition of the fire station will take place, as the development has stalled indefinitely. Once the fire station has gone, Sheffield city centre will be left with a giant hole. When writing about architecture it is all too easy to rant, to hang on to pointless

symbolism; it is difficult to be earnest. Yet, right now, the situation is absurd. In truth, the overall historic and architectural value of the building is dubious. It may not necessarily be worth keeping in the long term. But due to immediate and extreme conditions it is worth considering how the city around us becomes valued in the face of irrational demands. The economy and the decline of a city and its industries are the basis of planning and the irregular, incoherent paths they follow can make for exciting places. Yet with the encroachment of master-plans and urban corporations, ahem Hammersons, comes a demise of the urban â&#x20AC;&#x201C; the things that make a city a city. The fire station is a case in point. Its future

is defined by an extreme narrative of decline and redevelopment that orders its destruction. Intriguingly though, it has only ever functioned in the pursuit of disaster. This is a building that has always predicted its own destruction. Rewind. The building was occupied in 1988 and is a maze of spaces and functions that are symbolically and functionally arranged. This building which looks like a Central European castle, with a Norman keep that at a distance could be the original fortifications of the early city, that has its own series of turrets and towers, that in ceremonial place of a drawbridge has fire doors from which the heroic fire-fighters, defenders of the city, would come in all their red flashing regalia,

fortifications are built with their own destruction in mind. to rescue maidens in burning towers from fire breathing dragons, has another purpose: beneath it lies Sheffield’s only nuclear bunker. Fortifications are built with their own destruction in mind. They are only useful to that point. When designed, they bear in mind the means of attack and the imagined escalating scenarios of what might happen. The fire station has its brick battlements, fortifications at street level, its exterior structure enclosing an interior courtyard. These defences reference what it is protecting: the city, civilisation, the civic institution. Under the fire station is a block designed solely for catastrophe. Constructed as the command centre in the case of nuclear war, this is a massive concrete, climate controlled war room from which the remains of the city could be overseen. (If you have ever seen Threads, the chills should be running up your spine.) That this was built in the late 1980s is a memorial to the fact that the period was conscious of a powerful threat, however questionable its basis in fact. It’s a frankly terrifying idea to imagine that you are constructing the building that will be the only one remaining. It comes down to the thought that above all, form follows fiction. Regeneration follows a similar disaster narrative. Development is essentially founded

on a fictitious problem. At its heart is a conceit that is soon to become realised; that the city is a blank canvas. The current fate of the city centre is defined by a master-plan that involves the large scale demolition of a series of buildings, mostly constructed in the last 40 years. In its place will be a shopping district that will be privately owned, operated and secured; itself a whole other issue Sheffield so far has yet to face. The economic drive that renders parts of the city more or less ‘valuable’ has appeared now as regeneration. How quickly can we imagine the removal of the fabric and constructed scenes that surround us? We do it far more quickly in reality. Having only built a nuclear shelter at the end of the cold war, we now plan to build a shopping centre at what many predict to be the demise of the economy. So before it is destroyed perhaps a wager: what more likely? Nuclear war or Sevenstone? In the end, the fear that drove this building, and the helplessness of its current situation, are two similar forms of paranoia. Both are beyond our control, and drive extreme constructions. It’s not change that we should fear; perhaps it’s best that the fire station is levelled and replaced. But it’s a cautionary tale - it’s fear and fiction that we should be wary of. A

g In theories of urban development, gays are uniquely held up as an economic and cultural force. Want culture? Shops? Clubs? Get the gays in. In Sheffield, the lack of a coherent centre as seen in other cities is strange. But what of the edges, the post industrial areas? Is Attercliffe the gayest place in the north?

Attracting gays to a city is held to be an important aspect of urban development. The idea is the often unquestioned ‘pink pound’ argument: gays past a certain age have more time and money to devote to a city simply because they don’t have children. Add to this the stereotype that gays are more cultured and a city flourishes; shops, restaurants, theatres and galleries abound. As such attracting a large gay population to your city and keeping them there is a simple way of improving it. This begs the question, what makes a city gay? A simple method of testing a city’s gayness is to judge the size of its gay quarter. Manchester, Leeds and Brighton, not to mention London, all have thriving gay quarters which vary in size and content. Some house only bars; others extend to shops, cafes and restaurants. Gay quarters, therefore, are quantifiable: this many gays mean this much money to a local economy. We can theorise that gay people are attracted to these areas, and as more come they bring more money. The market, it seems, just keeps growing.

David, upstairs on the dancefloor of his club, Dempseyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

So what of Sheffield, a city with no obviously located Gay quarter? To employ the argument that we have just developed it would seem that Sheffield is losing out big time; both in terms of hard cash and cultural breadth. To find out why this might be Article endeavoured to identify the reason for Sheffield’s lack of a designated Kyliezone. Initially we must note: it is not for lack of trying. Subscribing to the ‘cultured-childless-gays-splashcash’ logic there have been recent attempts by both the council and local business owners (perhaps for slightly different reasons) to create a gay quarter near the Cathedral. But, as with most regeneration plans initiated by before the recession, progress has been curtailed somewhat. Established businesses in other parts of town, the ones that are going strong, don’t seem too bothered by this. Lion’s Lair and Dempsey’s regularly direct punters across town to each other, gleefully ignoring the fact that it is often a cold and drizzly ten minute walk between them. What emerges, rather than a gay village, is fragmented co-operation. In spite of this the realities of business very much apply. The last time a mega-glamour gay club opened in Sheffield the results revealed something about the city itself. The businessman who ran Fuel arrived from Hull armed with the knowledge that everyone else in the business possesses: one club can open and blow everyone else out of the water. Fuel’s success put great strain on several of the other bars and clubs as it drew their punters. But it also failed to improve the gayness of the city; eventually succumbing to its own arrogance. Raising prices in an attempt to become upmarket resulted in bankruptcy. Fuel closed and the city returned to how it was before. As much as we talk about the pink pound, the fact remains that people don’t like to be taken for fools. As the prices at Fuel went up, punters went back to clubs like Dempsey’s. The pink pound in Sheffield might 35

be strong, but apparently it also wants value for money. Perhaps this sort of turbulence makes people cautious when considering opening gay venues. In a gay quarter new businesses tend to support each other, whilst the diasporic nature of Sheffield’s gay scene makes it possible for a new venue to be incredibly destructive. Of course, this isn’t an exclusively gay phenomenon. Competition between businesses occurs when there is demand, and rather than opening disparate establishments, businesses cluster for mutual custom. This is where Sheffield’s fragmented Gay culture gets interesting. Article was surprised to find out that Sheffield nearly had a gay quarter: in Attercliffe, the rundown industrial area between the centre and Meadowhall. Perhaps there’s something seriously homoerotic about steel works; or more likely, its isolation meant that people could be gay anonymously, without fear of being seen by work colleagues on their own nights out; or, perhaps most plausibly of all, there is a lot of cheap, empty space. Whatever the real reason, many gay clubs and bars have opened and closed in this area over the past twenty years. This could have provided the mythical gay village, but today Club Xes and The Bronx Sauna are the only remaining establishments. The reason for the area’s decline is twofold. Firstly the opening of gay bars and clubs in the city centre. As Attercliffe is further from residential areas and less accessible by public

transport people opting for a night out in the city centre saved on time and cab fares. The second factor, however, is far more intriguing and far, far murkier. It seems that the claim that gay businesses support each other is not entirely true. Undocumented and unsubstantiated, but nonetheless fascinating claims suggest that part of the demise of Attercliffe’s gay scene relate to tremendous infighting between several of the bars. Stories’ contents range from groups of gangster’s muscling in, to regularly calling the fire brigade on competing bars – on the grounds that safety regulations were being broken – in an attempt to have licences revoked. Regardless of the ‘true’ story, Attercliffe has largely been abandoned for a small number of disparate bars in Sheffield’s city centre. But what does the lack of a designated quarter actually mean for Sheffield? Does it mean that Sheffield does not have a gay scene? The answer, obviously, is no. Despite the lack of an officially gay part of Sheffield, there are gay bars, clubs, institutions and nights in different parts of the city and in both gay and ‘straight’ establishments. All of this would indicate that, whilst gay quarter-less, Sheffield does have a strong gay scene. A scene that is spread out, and to a large degree integrated into the rest of the city’s cultural life. Unfortunately, for developers and town planners, Sheffield cannot be advertised as having one of the best gay quarters in the north, or given some other trite development sales line. Instead the city can point to tolerance and uniqueness and boast that such a quarter so far has proved unnecessary. A

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the beat is the law The Beat Is The Law is the new film from the makers of Made In Sheffield, Eve and Richard Wood. Where their previous film covered the synth pop pioneers of Sheffield in the 1970s, this piece documents a very different scene based in a declining city of the 1980s. Part 1, to be screened at Sheffield Doc Fest in November 2009 tells the early story of the artists who later emerged to be at the centre of UK dance music and Britpop in the 1990s, and the city in which they lived and worked. Since the period it covers is of one major decline and unemployment in Sheffield, how is the tone of The Beat is the Law different from its predecessor Made in Sheffield? Richard: Made In Sheffield was about

when punk hit Sheffield. It was almost like a year zero for Sheffield, for music, the arts, film makers, the whole lot. A new generation came up and had this opportunity to express themselves thanks to punk. And so Made In Sheffield talked about the naivety of young people just wanting to express themselves and getting really excited about it all and the opportunities that came up for them. Some of them did very well and became very successful out of that initial period of excitement.

Eve: Made In Sheffield, as it opens is

Chakk bassist Mark Brydon. He was also in Moloko.

like “I still miss it,” it was the best time of their lives. They all look back on it with great fondness, so it had this real feel of being fun. In this film the dads have lost their jobs, there isn’t any optimism. It starts from a totally different premise: The city’s in trouble, everything that was there before isn’t there now. 39

have read quite a lot of things about the miners strike, and that point of the defeat of the miners is seen as quite a critical moment in history, not because of the miners, but what they were fighting for and the implications that it has had ever since. It’s interesting to me because it’s almost within my lifetime, and that’s something that you don’t really get a critical approach towards, it usually tends towards nostalgia. R: We began to make the film in

2005 and we had no idea what was going to happen to the economy and our support. Nobody knows what’s going to happen next year with a new government and it’s like, 25 years ago this is exactly what was happening, has nobody learnt anything? It’s coming back to revisit us again.

E: The thing is, back then it happened here in Sheffield and the north, but it didn’t happen in the south and so people think it never happened. I first came to sheffield 15 years ago and I was quite shocked, I though this is a western country with boarded up houses and desperate villages. I had just been to India where you expect povertybut I was more shocked when I came to Sheffield because I thought “this is a western country - what’s happened?” I think what’s important is this film you can’t identify all the little bits, it’s trying to paint a picture using all the art and the music and interviews and stories. It’s illustrating, trying to get a sense of that time, give you a feel of it.

Jarvis Cocker looking cool. This is the first photo of Jarvis we have ever printed.

That’s what seems quite striking about it - that there is a direct parallel between the state of the city and politics, peoples’ lives and the music itself. R: It seemed to be quite a positive,

what was the point? There was a clampdown, benefits got harder to receive, bus fares went up from 2p, and it’s these elements of freedom of movement, freedom of expression that make things happen.

With the defeat of the miners, people lost a lot of their energy and motivation. People kind of gave up,

E: In that sense, it’s how the politics tie in with the music, the miners were fighting not just for their work, they were fighting for their sense of control for a certain way of their communities and their sense of freedom, to have control over their own lives to a certain extent. That’s what the unions are about - you stick together and you’re stronger. And the artists were similar, being able to experiment and express themselves but wanting to have control, so after the miners strike this becomes harder to do. Their freedoms become limited as well, so it’s almost like the miners, this big battle, was on behalf of the whole nation - this is what we are living with now. In Italy and Germany and France, we

creative time in the early 80s in Sheffield because you could sign on for as long as you wanted to, you could find derelict warehouses to rehearse in, but at a certain point things started to clamp down in the city. People were politically motivated - with Thatcher people had a nice target to aim for, and I suppose the Miners’ strike was something that was a very pivotal moment. It seemed like some of the people involved in the strike, which included some of the musicians as well - had this sort of optimism, that they could do things, take matters in to their own hands.

R: Part one introduces you to the

characters and sets them into a context of where they came from and what inspired them and what sort of influence they drew on. In the second part, we become much more involved with their personal stories and where they end up. And they end up at the centre of dance music in the UK and britpop. They don’t just end up somewhere, they are the key players in those two huge movements, and that’s the amazing thing, that they’re on this long journey. You mentioned bands working against normal business models, record deals and people choosing to stay in Sheffield?

R: They said, why can’t you come up

to Sheffield? (record companies) that’s the motivation, we’re good enough here.

E: They were fighting for control: We don’t want to go down to London,

Photos this and opposite: Karl Lang

we want to build our own recording studios and we can do it here and keep control over our product, and there were only a few who agreed to it. It’s a parallel between what was happening in the country and what they were trying to do, like a union, a collective. What came out of that, record labels? R: The curious thing about it is that

Chakk were touted as being the next big thing in Britain - Industrial Funk. The record companies were all over them, so they got a unique deal where they agreed to sign to a label in return for a recording studio, which was unheard of. And that turned into FON studios down in the Wicker in a warehouse, full of rats and the sound of trains overhead, industrial sounds mixing with the studio sounds. So they managed to keep some form of independence and lots of bands recorded there, so the local bands that worked together in the early 80s suddenly had the opportunity to record in Sheffield.

E: This continued with the formation of a record label which started to do very well. and they had the first hit out of it, House Arrest which sold around half a million copies.

R: There’s quite a big chain of events

which comes from this collective that’s just trying to do its own thing in Sheffield. Chakk gets a recording studio, that studio turns into FON.... It progresses on from there, and that’s where we start the next part. Was it easy to see this as a chronological story when you started?

R: It was a massive jigsaw puzzle - if

you took any of the people involved, obviously they’ve got their own stories, but to get an overview of what’s happening is very very difficult because there’s different things going off at the same time, and you can’t see how to tell that in an hour or so.

E: It’s almost like you know that there is a backbone to the story - there’s the political situation, there’s the general story of what happened to Chakk, you know that Pulp is around and that’s what you go off and then along the line you find more things and connections and you see how you can shape the story. We have spent long evenings together trying to figure this out because people will remember their experience and it was such an intense time, it was such a long time ago they

don’t know exactly. So we’ve probably got more of an overview of what was happening than they have, because they were doing their individual thing. What do you have planned for distribution and release? R: The first step has been in getting it

into Doc Fest and we’re going to see what opportunities we can get out of that, but we are independent, we’re trying to stay independent

E: It’s almost like an organic development - we can’t really say that this is exactly the plan because we don’t know how it’s going to pan out which is kind of exciting but also very scary, it keeps you on your toes. I think that’s very similar to what these people were doing. It’s a very changing time for independent film, with the internet, different ways of producing film so there’s no set route anymore and we have to stay open to opportunities. R: We have created a site for the film

www.thebeatisthelaw.com where you can find out more and spread the word. It would be great if it leads a really beautiful life online. A

“electro proliferated so quickly, it just imploded like some super-nova of shitty mp3s.” Neon Indian is also known as Alan Palomo (aka Vega aka Ghosthustler.) If you haven’t heard of any of these names then either you have been living under a rock for the past six months, or you don’t care a toss about the indie music blogosphere. Either way, now is your chance to be introduced. Alan’s current project, Neon Indian, combines fuzzy synth and lo-fi guitar sounds with live drums and an alleged theatrical approach which has been coined in blog land as Chillwave. We met up with the Mexican born, soon to be Brooklyn based 21 year old before his show at Do or Die in the Harley Hotel. I really wanna talk about the name. This is your third name right? and you are touring under Vega at the same time as well right. So why not just have one? Why not just be Alan Palomo? Is it a kind of musical bi-polarity? Haha sure, it’s a combination of those things. Neon Indian is a constantly evolving sound. It’s very unstable, changing with each track. It sort of jumps off in its own musical tangents. That gives it free rein to explore. The live act is still developing. I want to 42

Neon Indian

introduce costumes and narrative as we develop it through this tour. But for my other project, Vega, it is all about being a very straight-forward, a crowd oriented show. Neon Indian wants to be more theatrical. So is each project for you a different personality? Yeah, I feel different impulses musically and emotionally, and I mean each project to be an individual idea. I find them difficult to incorporate. The reason it’s not just Alan Palomo is because I wouldn’t know exactly what that sounds like. I haven’t been doing music long enough to know what I want to do. Instead I assume these monikers and write songs that fit the aesthetics of what I am trying to do for that. Does that mean you are heading in a direction? Kinda like you are in art school doing different modules; a bit of oil paint, a bit of sculpture, a bit of textiles? All hoping to find the one that is right for you? Well, I have always tried to express myself in as many ways as possible. In school I studied film, and I think

neon indian

Vega

eventually I would like to go back to that. But in the meantime, if i can play with as many mediums as possible, why not do that. Part of the charm of music is that it is so new for me, that I get to explore it. So it might be that I do something different from music altogether. The project famously started as you being anonymous. Why? Was it for fun? A joke? Or was it this thing about the name, and having different personalities for different music? My initial concern was that it was just such a different project that I wanted to see what kind of reaction it could garner just by itself. So I could see how it worked and how it was received. I didn’t want anyone’s initial reaction to be convoluted by associations with anything. Because perhaps the Vega fans wouldn’t be into Neon Indian and vice versa. But it sort of become redundant as it was accepted. and that actually it was just inconvenient because i couldn’t preform live or do interviews. But then it was snapped up by the blogs and was really successful. How do you

feel about the whole blog thing? I think in a lot of ways it’s kind of a double edged sword. Definitely I have benefited a lot from their publicity. But, I do feel that some of the ways that blog culture works is risky in terms of degrading the music through associations and coining genres and how quickly music is consumed, yeah it definitely has its negative aspects. As Ghosthustler I was influenced by that first wave of blogged electro. It was strange how within a two year span electro proliferated and became the most popular form of dance and electronic music and then quickly became the most played sound of the decade. It is so weird because it was the first genre to have literally grown under a micro-scope and that was entirely through blogs. That’s how it proliferated so quickly and how immediately there was no other option but to exhaust every variation and it just imploded like some super-nova of shitty mp3s. Now there is a complete wasteland of bad remixes on the internet. In the meantime, people have run out of good ideas, People wanted to carve out their own niche within the genre and that’s what depleted it so

Ghosthustler

quickly. It didn’t progress naturally. So what do you think about revamping the lo-fi sound with Neon Indian? I am somewhat wary of it. Like, it’s been weird how quickly now people have been creating associations between Neon Indian and other stuff and naming it a movement (i.e. Chillwave) , which I though was a bit premature. Hopefully it won’t be detrimental, like when you were in elementary school. The teacher threw you into groups and if one of you started to suck, then it brought everybody else down. Then is the whole Live Show element of Neon Indian about getting away from the blogs and becoming something that can’t be easily replicated online? Yeah. I think really you shouldn’t expose your music unless you are going to create more, or preform it live. I feel like that was what Neon Indian was going for, it was always meant to be live. Now, since you can’t sell Cd’s. The biggest impression you can leave with someone is a live show. A 43

boy 8 bit

Boy 8-Bit twiddles some knobs at Club Pony.

“I wouldn’t start playing drum and bass and then dubstep, and then hip-hop at the end. For the ladies.”

Boy 8-Bit’s stock is on the up and up. Currently in the process of cementing himself as one of techtro’s most reliable producers, a glance through Dave Morris’ rapidly expanding back catalogue reads like a what’s hot of thinking man’s electro. Much like that much maligned nocturnal rapscallion the bat, Dave 8-Bit has never fallen wholeheartedly into any musical camp. Having started his career in residence at Theo ‘Touche/ Fake Blood’ Keating’s Bodyclap night down in Old Lahndahn Town, he began releasing French tinged electro records on the same-named label back in 2005. 2008 was his breakthrough year, with The Suspense Is Killing Me EP thrusting our hero into the limelight. Despite the fidgety overtones associated with such a Mad Decent release, these 2 tracks had were stripped back electro tracks with a techno sensibility, relying on perfect programming and a synth whose buzz would make grown men weep.

comas. Having destroyed Club Pony’s birthday the night before, Article tried to sit down with this enigmatic Christ figure on only half an hour’s sleep and most of a bottle of Lambrini.

Dave 8-Bit’s most recent output has shown a shift towards a more melodic techno sound, with a Bodzin influence shining through. The Baltic Pine EP has been on heavy rotation with Pete Tong and Hawtin, and his luscious touch up of Florence and the Machine brought 3 people out of

How so?

So, first things first. Did you enjoy last night? Yeah, it was good. It was great. You played a much techier set than I think a lot of people were expecting. Was that a one-off, or have you been playing these records for a while? Variations on it. There were 4 or 5 new things I played, but I’ve been doing festivals and a lot of touring and you fall into this comfort zone; you play so much that you know what works. But last night,at the start, instead of coming in with something massive I just played some good stuff. Is it techier? I don’t know. I call it proper electro.

I remember seeing a video of Jeff Mills in Tresor in ’95 live, and that’s ingrained in my head as what techno is. Fast and hard. I find it funny what techno’s become now. 45

Photos: Tom Jackson

It’s not something that a year ago might have worked at Pony, but it went really well. Did you feel people knew what you were doing? I think there’s a definite shift towards that sound, a bit more repetitive. Crowds have been a lot more receptive to it than they have been in the past. How long have you been playing techier stuff? You’re, whether wrongly or rightly, associated with that Mad Decent, Cheap Thrills wobble sound, and people might not expect to hear this sort of thing when you play. We used to run a night at London, [Bodyclap, run by Dave 8-Bit and Theo Touche Fake Blood] and we did 6 hrs between 2 of us so we’d start at 90 bpm and build up. I remember, just before we got to the peak bit we’d start playing, not techy, but the electro I was talking about earlier. Things like TGI and 911 Turbo, and then big tunes around then like your Booka Shades and M.A.N.D.Y, so it’s always been there. Personally, my favourite records are from 2006, your Bodzins and your Schumachers doing really stripped back melodic, driving 46

stuff. I’ve always played something by them. I totally stand by the bassier end of it, the wobblier stuff, but it has kind of got a bit boring. When it was at its peak you had people like Switch turning out incredible stuff, but what that sound was is not what it is now. It’s just a natural thing. I like to try and play set which has a cross section of hard stuff and party stuff. I think the key is to be eclectic but not eclectic for the sake of it. I wouldn’t start playing drum and bass and then dubstep, and then hip-hop at the end. For the ladies. So you’re not the DJ who’ll mash together Skream and The Smiths? I think there’s a place for that, but not where I am. Maybe tonight [Dave was on his way to Bristol] when my set reaches its peak I’ll drop some weird Rolling Stones b-side. In fact, what was happening last night? There was a kind of mosh-pit down the front, everyone jumping. I should have dived in, shouldn’t I? That was the point to take my shirt off. The first thing I remember hearing from you was a chippy cover of Jolene, and

a track called Wild Beasts which was a very 2006 electro track, heavy on the distortion. What’s brought about the shift to this more melodic sound? Those things were just stupid. Just silly things I did. I don’t really see it as a progression. There’s a lot of stuff on my hard drive that is different, that just hasn’t ever come out. It’s to do with learning things and that enables you to do them. I think it’s still similar; it’s still melodic, the same kind of tempo. I don’t absolutely go out the way to try and make different stuff. How does the success of Baltic Pine and your Florence and the Machine remix feel? Do you feel more able to make the sort of thing you want to make now? Totally, yeah. When you’re up and coming, when people want a remix they want you to do a certain kind of thing. But now, I’ve got a bit more of a free rein. People know me, and know what I do. I thought no one was going to like that Florence & The Machine thing. I was just having fun. I didn’t go in with any preconceptions. I just wanted to try and do something like that Trentemoller mix of Royksopp, and people liked it. A

Man About Town: The Society Briefing

courtesy of Lieutenant Geoffrey-Crispin Tiffin Hellier

Party season has begun, and as it draws out there is much to comment on. The disappearance of Fuzz club has had unexpected impact on the clubbing landscape. In the lack of any central-sizeablerespectable-frequent indie club, other, more 'with it', ventures have profited. Death by Shoes now finds itself so full, the chances of procuring a drink from the bar have been compared with finding decent Roquefort in Eccy Road Spar, adding to its at once eccentric, anarchic and delightful manner. Likewise, band nights at Bungalows and the Harley are notably more populous. But as the wealth is spread, one wonders if some larger promoters might think to move away from the saturated 'wobble bass' and provide a large scale indie-disco that isn't…well, I could say to enjoyment what Primula is to cheese, or I could "say it like it is": shite. Back to the far larger, and superior, world of club music. Our friends at the DQ Stables have been "ripping-it-up" so to speak with some unspeakably good Club Pony lineups, including a rapturous set from Boy 8-Bit. Promising is the up and coming Surkin, who hints at being a bit of a technical whiz. Further, attempting to win over the cool crowd, Plug has enlisted the help of the very same Pony Jockeys to put on Article favourites, Joe and Will Ask? (The question mark is their doing, of course, not ours.) Other fans of frivolous punctuation will note MixedInSheffield launches its second chapter at the delightfully undergroundoverground Yellow Arches. The (RE)MixedinSheffield "Industrial/inNature" album launch party promises to be a bassy affair with a set from the eloquent and ever polite Squires of Gothos. I do look forward to passing dem poppers, to the left, naturally, like a fine Port.

Lastly, for those who want an alternative alternative evening, the newly launched Mosko Disko at the Red House held its first evening with much aplomb. We look forward to more evenings of trashy Balkan Club and Eastern Bloc Rock. Onward comrades. But, Art! We like that too. And good lord, what new friends we have made since the last issue. The fourth Prism event, held at Bank Street Arts, was a fantastic evening enjoyed by all. It is surprising that no one has previously understood the profitability of linking art with alcohol. The fault lies entirely with Her Majesty's licensing laws. I’ll have to inquire about changing them next time I’m invited to Balmoral. With eyes on the spending season, there are also some new places to throw away that student loan. A new vintage boutique opened above the Howard, where Syd and Mallory used to be. Named Flock, they are notable for their collection of tasteful Pringle classics. In sadder news, Article clothing staple Toast has closed its doors for the last time and leaven its current premises. But if you can barley believe it, don’t puri. They aren’t loafing about, preferring to be on a roll, changing the name to The Bakery. Which, far from being a pain au chocolate, is just what Sheffield has bun kneading. The Bakery will stock more brands, clothes, and shoes, naan of which should cost too much dough. It’s a pita we haven’t got any. But enough of this rye humour. We are spelt.

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