BOON Magazine Issue 3 by BOON Magazine

ROYA L BLOOD | FOR M AT 34 | ME ATLIQUOR

ISSUE No 3

FOREWORD Words: Kristian Bell | Illustration: Daniel Rumsey

Creative Directors Timothy Hampson

timothy@boon-magazine.co.uk

Antony Day

antony@boon-magazine.co.uk

Chief Editors James Halling

james@boon-magazine.co.uk

Matthew Watson

matthew@boon-magazine.co.uk

Head Of Marketing ChloĂŠ Harwood chloe@boon-magazine.co.uk

Photography Laura Brown, Steve Brown, James Clare, Nima Elm, Steve Glashier, Meagan Long & Eleni Mettyear laura@boon-magazine.co.uk steve@boon-magazine.co.uk

Writers Kristian Bell, Robbie Canale, Sara Harman-Clarke, Will Godfrey, Roisin Mackinnon & Joe Walker Illustrators Sam Gull, Amy Pike, Daniel Rumsey & Dan Stirling Contributors & a special thank you to Alice Ash, Daniel Baragwanath, Murray Curnow, Martin Currie, Kirstie Daniell, Carly Florentine, Eddie Goatman, Marilyn Hampson, Gianni Honey, Dominic Knight, Demelza Mather, Jack McNally, Hayley De La Motte, Liam Harry Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Brien, Lou Reed (RIP), Jimi Wheelright, Luke Wyeth, Ziggy If you would like to contribute further, please contact info@boon-magazine.co.uk

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DAN STIRLING

BOON

Word s: Jo e Wa l k er | I l lu st r at ion: D a n St i rl i n g w w w.d a n-st i rl i n g.com

Brighton based Illustrator Dan Stirling first picked up a pen to draw something before he could even put a coherent sentence together, since then he hasn’t stopped. Dan’s work focuses on strong subject matter and is largely drawn in black & white. His hand drawn works are done with a 0.05mm pen and will typically take weeks to complete. (‘Descent’ most recently taking nearly four weeks). His work space must be immaculately prepared and he often works wearing surgical gloves as the detail is so fine. Dan is influenced more by personal experience than other art. He takes ideas from his dreams but also from pain he has experienced as well as his interest in mythology and astronomy. Most recently he designed an album cover for singer Marika Hackman. He would love to create an iconic logo, an image remembered for the artwork more so than the thing it is featured on.

DAN STIRLING

Descent

DAN STIRLING

Adam Kola Portrait

DAN STIRLING

Orbit

BOON

COME HUNGRY, L E AV E D RU N K Words: Joe Walker | Photography: Nima Elm & Steve Glashier

Pink neon lighting, walls ‘tattooed’ with artwork of bodiless entities and bizarre mutant animals, music blaring uncomfortably loud and the chance to eat a Dead Hippie and drink a Hobo. A quiet meal for two simply doesn’t happen at MEATliquor. MEATliquor Brighton recently opened in York Place and marks the first venture outside of London for owners Scott Collins & Yianni Papoutsis. BOON met with them to discuss the opening of their new restaurant and the history and inspiration behind creating one of the coolest and most popular places to eat in London. Priding itself on offering an experience that no other eatery can, MEATliquor has obtained an almost cult-like following.

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Whilst waiting to be seated at the launch night of MEATliquor Brighton, a girl from the group behind me asks the staff: “How long will we be waiting?” She is told it will probably be about 45 minutes. The girls in front of me turn aghast at this revelation. As they start to leave the queue, the original girl from the group behind cuts in and tentatively explains that at MEATliquor in London, they often have celebrities queuing for three hours to get in. How much of this is true and how much is hyperbole is almost irrelevant, but the concept is very simple as Scott tells us: “It’s democratic, there’s no face policy, you queue, you get in, once you’re in you stay as long as you like.”

it in one of my pubs and it just kind of snowballed from there.” The feel inside MEATliquor is almost that of a bar or nightclub. Dark corners and crevices give an air of privacy, although you might be sharing a table with another party. A varied playlist blasts out over the chatter of happy diners. “At night the atmosphere changes.” Yianni tells us. “It’s a lot more raucous, in a good way. I mean we get people dancing on the tables.”

Just weeks after Yianni’s burger van was stolen around Christmas 2010, a very temporary MEATeasy popped up in one of Scott’s pubs. From there, MEATliquor was born and in November 2011, MEATliquor opened its doors for business. Further restaurants MEATmission (Hoxton) and MEATmarket (Covent Garden) were to follow.

Although both are fully involved with all the goings on of each restaurant, Scott is largely behind making sure the customers leave refreshed and preferably intoxicated whilst Yianni’s main responsibility is making sure that everyone through the door leaves feeling like they’ve just gone up a jean size. Perhaps still surprised by their own success, the two of them don’t take things too seriously. “People bring their parents in here! I’m sure people bring them in just to try and shock them, they don’t like their parents and then the parents fucking love it,” Scott jokes.

Just under two years since the first restaurant opened in London’s West End, Brighton has become their fourth site. “Yianni had been plying his wears on a very temporary, sporadic, industrial estate car park in Peckham.” Scott begins. “I tried the burger, I liked it, we got chatting, he started to put

Despite this, they are keen to be taken seriously as restaurateurs. “It’s quite frustrating that we’re called a burger bar when it’s only a third of our menu that is burgers. However we don’t like the word restaurant, this is more of a...” “Joint!” Yianni interjects. “Yeah, it’s a big smouldering joint!” Scott agrees.

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The ever expanding MEATliquor dynasty is inspired by its pure spontaneity, the ability to pop up and command immediate success.

In keeping with their other outlets, the artwork in Brighton is conceived by the acclaimed design company ilovedust. Described as “seaside promenade meets Miami Vice,” the deranged artwork in the Brighton restaurant sees lots of pink, neon and other vibrant colours. “We’ve got a really cool neon sign, where the top half is a flamingo, and the bottom half is of a flamenco dancer,” Scott begins. The surreal inspiration behind the artwork has spawned the “Flamengo.” Before Yianni elaborates, “it’s kind of a fusion between 1980s Miami and 1880s Brighton.”

Once a new site is open they are consistent with their simple culture, which is an affordable and fun place to go out and get something to eat. The site in Brighton was essentially unplanned and almost stumbled upon by Scott last year, “I did the London to Brighton bike ride last year and walked passed a site up for grabs and that was it.” Although Brighton may not have been a premeditated stop on the MEATliquor journey, the guys describe it is as the most complex of their ventures. “It’s the most expensive thing we’ve ever done, by a long shot,” Scott elaborates. “So it’s a lot of fucking work.”

So what is next for MEATliquor? Once Brighton is up and running, it seems only a matter of time before we see more sites appearing. “We’re looking at two sites, one North and one West of England,” Scott informs us. There is no reason why the MEAT-liquor cult has to end there.

Trying to find something unique in Brighton is not always easy; however Scott and Yianni are keen to repeat their previous success at setting a trend and creating something distinctive. “It (MEATliquor) is going to have a different feel to anything that’s in Brighton.” Scott asserts before Yianni continues: “What we do wouldn’t fit in next to a Boots or JD Wetherspoons, that’s not what we are about at all, if anything we prefer to be just a little bit tucked away and hidden.”

The renowned name they have built up means they could open anywhere and command success. Next year sees the release of the MEATliquor Chronicles cookbook. “As MEATliquor is to restaurants, the MEATliquor Chronicles will be to cookbooks,” Yianni explains. Scott perhaps perfectly sums up the clearly established ethos and applied success when it comes to MEATliquor as a business. “We’re masters of our own destiny.”

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BOON

THE BRATT PAC K

Words: Robbie Canale | Photography: Nima Elm | Styling: Alexandra John Clothing: Brett Le Bratt | Jewellery: Curiouser & Curiouser | Models: Bad For Lazarus

I’m sat in a quiet corner of the pub early on a Monday evening, going over the questions scribbled in my notebook for my forthcoming interview with designer Brett Le Bratt and stylist Alex John when suddenly it dawns on me, I don’t even know what they look like. Before I have an opportunity to think how stupid I am, I hurriedly Google their names, punching the keys on my phone into Facebook when the pixilated, smiling faces of their profile pictures I’m peering at on my handset suddenly come to life. As they cautiously walk through the entrance of our agreed meeting place, I stand up to greet them and decide that telling them about my basic journalistic faux-pas will be a good, if somewhat embarrassing ice-breaker but before I can utter a word Alex says: “We’ve been stood outside for five minutes looking you up online as we realised we didn’t know what you looked like.” We are here to interview the creative duo about the forthcoming shoot they’re concocting for BOON and Bad For Lazarus (more on them later). So with the identity crisis aside, we delve straight in and get to know a little about the two.

www.lebratt.co.uk www.youngrepublic.com/designer/lebratt.html

TH E BR AT T PAC K

“We met through Alex’s mum” Brett informs me. “I was working in a pub and she said she wanted to introduce me to her daughter but was scared she would steal me away from her. We ended up going out that night and that was it, best mates. That was six years ago now.”

“We have been looking at what the band usually wear,” Alex says, as if on cue taking over from where Brett left off. “It’s quite dandy-esque, there’s something dark about their look, almost reminiscent of The Horrors but we don’t want to dress the band in something they aren’t comfortable with.”

Alex, with effortless aplomb, takes up the story: “We ended up going to a fashion show. A really really bad fashion show. My mum took us and told us it was going to be amazing. It ended up being a children’s fashion show. We couldn’t stop laughing. We were getting all these glares off angry parents and decided we’d be better off spending the night at the bar.”

Although this is only their second creative collaboration (Alex styled the models for Brett’s Alternative Fashion Week collection) the pair have been in the creative industry under one guise or another for several years now. Brett arrived in Brighton during the summer of 2007 to study Menswear Design at University and has since gone on to design, make and produce his own amazing collections under the Brett Le Bratt moniker, a name he chose because “I was always called a brat as a kid so it seemed like an appropriate name.”

The chemistry between the two is almost tangible, their fits of laughter and giggles interspersed by knowing looks of what the other is about to say or might be thinking. But while their friendship is firmly set in stone, this is only the second time they have worked together creatively.

Alex combines working full-time as a trend expert at Beyond Retro with a passion for styling; working freelance on a number of projects including music videos for Robbie Williams, Emili Sandé and most recently Kings of Leon.

“We were approached by a mutual friend of ours about doing this shoot for BOON.” Brett informs me, “She asked if I wanted to provide some clothes for the shoot thinking I had loads of past collections which I could just pull some clothes from but I had sold it all. I was like, well, I can make something.”

Fast forward a month or so and after a barrage of email conversations and last minute rearrangements by the band,

TH E BR AT T PAC K

I am precariously perched around a pub table with Brett, Alex, four of the five band members and their manager. Brett soon springs to life, leaping from his seat in excited trepidation. Like a magician plucking a rabbit out of a hat, he swiftly pulls two jackets from a bag. They are both cut extremely high with sharp angles, creating a jacket the like I have never seen before. Brett has designed and made the jackets especially for the band and lead singer Rich Fownes is soon on his feet, arms outstretched as Brett fits him into the black leather jacket adorned with thin metre long strips flowing down the back. It is a cross between 1970s glam rock (think Marc Bolan in all his pomp) and a contemporary Dracula. Both Brett and Rich look very pleased with themselves. I ask Rich if he is happy with it and he gives me a knowing smile before answering. “Yeah it’s cool, I love it.” He then turns to Brett; “Do I get to keep it?” Brett just laughs, a laugh that says no. Safely back at the table I am sat with Fownes and the band’s lead guitarist Richie Munroe while Alex and Brett busy themselves fitting the other band members we question the band as to whether they had any input on Brett’s designs. “We’ve not really wanted to get involved” Fownes tells me, his long

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dark hair cascading down past his shoulders which are framed by a patterned shirt. “We just wanted to let them do their thing,” Munroe adds.

stage like some bands might,” adds Munroe, still looking a little perplexed at my question. It is hard to fathom whether or not they seem reticent to talk about how style and image affects a band’s on-stage psyche or if that they truly don’t care, which seems unlikely. If you saw them walking down the street, their masses of hair, their boots and skinny jeans, you’d think they were in a band so surely image plays a part in their look?

“We gave them free reign to come up with all the ideas they wanted to. They had come to see us play beforehand so they already had an idea of who we are and we’ve met up on several occasions over a few pints so they know what we like and don’t like,” Munroe informs me. The current Bad For Lazarus line up (Fownes, Munroe, Andrew Knightly on keys, Liam Dowling on bass and drummer Ross Crick) have been together for two years and garnered something of a reputation for enigmatic live shows and raucous on-stage behaviour. But what part do their sartorial choices play on their persona?

Fownes, with that slightly bemused look still on his face ponders over the question. “It’s interesting because where is the line drawn between a good band musically and looking like a band? The problem is bands change their image so often. They’ll release one album and have one look then the next album they’ll have an entirely new look, I’m not sure that’s what it should be about.” Maybe I should just take Munroe’s word for it. “AC/DC are AC/DC on every album, that’s just who they are. Bad For Lazarus are just Bad For Lazarus.”

The two Rich’s seemed bemused by the question, as if it’s something they’ve never thought about, before Fownes takes up the reigns. “People seem to think our dress sense is a premeditated element of who we are but I think the reason we get along so well as a band is because we share the same interests in all walks of life and that goes for the way we dress too. It’s just one element of who we are.” “It’s not like we chat about what to wear before we go on

TH E BR AT T PAC K

BOON

LUV TURNS TO HATE

Words: Matthew Watson | Illustration: Sam Gull & Amy Pike

Hate Hate Hate Records have proved over the last year how to quickly adapt to the vicious world of the music industry. They have remained dedicated and loyal to their manifesto: promoting and supporting emerging bands and ensuring that in everything they do, the music is always the priority. Run by Sam Gilbert, this intrepid and professional one-man outfit already has a formidable roster of artists and it is this observant, almost predictive sense of Sam’s that means his label are often one step ahead of the rest when it comes to signing unique artists. Hate Hate Hate have a keen interest and sustained penchant for Brighton orientated acts, with local boy Theo Verney being the latest protégé of the plucky record label. Like Sam, Theo is one sole who has the creative wisdom, the vivid ambition and masterful intuition to go exceptionally far. Already, the Brighton based musician has released two well revered EPs and supported none other than Parquet Courts. BOON decided to find out what attracts national labels like Hate Hate Hate to Brighton’s latest crop of musicians. Similarly we asked Theo to tell us about life as a solo artist and how things have gone so far for Hate Hate Hate’s latest recruit.

LUV TURNS TO HATE

Amy Pike

LUV TURNS TO HATE

So what influences a business savvy individual and a low-key bedroom artist to fulfil their occupational dreams? To make a pivotal decision and not look back. Sam is quick to stipulate that it is indeed a lack of variation and nurtured talent from the UK’s domestic market that has fostered his passions, “there’s so much awesome stuff coming out of America at the moment and it feels like we’re behind again. I liked a lot of the grungy punk music that was coming out of the US in the 80s and I guess I felt like I wanted to be involved with something like that. It feels like there are some awesome artists that fit that ethos in Britain and that starting a label was an idea that could work really well.”

involved and the determined nature to maximise the output of their work is testament to the current success of both record label and signed artist. Both Sam and Theo share many personal qualities when it comes to music that it interestingly reveals how vast the pair’s commonalities extend. Their goals, their musical tastes, they all intricately overlap, not completely, but sufficiently enough to have brought them together. Theo doggedly recalls his early inspirations, “Black Sabbath and metal were the first things I got properly into. I then found acts like NWA and started producing hip hop! I think this influenced the production style that I have today, even when recording a full band. Black Lips and Turbo Fruits have really influenced me as well, they were a breath of fresh air from everything else I was hearing at the time.” Sam shares this requited love for all things rock /metal, to which it has ultimately helped sculpt the direction and professional ethos of the label.

Verney also manages to carry through this mesmerising vein of enthusiasm that is shared between the two, “when I was about three years old I have a vivid memory of doing air guitar. I started playing violin when I was four and so had to transition from that to guitar, which was a bit of a struggle but it was an instant gratification. Ever since then I have found it all comes pretty naturally. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do and the only thing I’ve ever been good at. I don’t know what I would be doing if I wasn’t making music.”

“Pop punk was my first love as a child. I was really into a lot of the Drive Thru acts; bands like NOFX, Lagwagon, Allister, Blink, Alkaline Trio and Green Day. I would credit those bands and the “Marshall Mathers” EP with being the things that really got me into music. I then began to work my way back through older punk and

The relentless drive from these two young men is inspiring, the effort

LUV TURNS TO HATE

alternative music. My music tastes have evolved and become more eclectic and they definitely help shape and influence Hate Hate Hate. It would be nice to branch out and work with some other genres as well though. I’m really into Red House Painters and Angels of Light at the moment, so to be involved in a melancholic, singer/songwriter album would be nice too.”

deaf. I have no musical talent whatsoever, but I know what I like and what I think is good and worth backing. Working on this side of the microphone suits me fine, I love being a part of the industry and enjoy the networking involved, meeting new bands and dealing with our acts,” recalls Sam. This dualism is reflected in the way Theo has gone from being in a band to progressing to a fully fledged solo artist, something that was essential in developing his creative notions and ideas. “The transition into becoming a solo artist was easy. I find that it is a lot simpler working on my own. There’s a lot of themes in my work: frustration, boredom and avoidance in my EP that could be attached to that move. I tend to have a good idea of exactly how I want things to be which is why I work well alone. By doing everything myself and personally choosing people to work with I can arrive at an outcome that I am happy with. I tend to have a vision on how everything is presented beyond just the music.”

Transition and being bold enough to take calculated risks are themes that have dictated the career paths of both gentlemen. Change is always a certainty in an industry as cut-throat guillotine opinionated and swiftly hot tempered as the one they’re in. It is about Zeitgeist appeal, saturating en-vogue genres and finding the best of the best. It is therefore somewhat humbling to see that both Sam and Theo have adapted to this and undertaken personal changes to ensure a degree of measurable success from both parties concerned. “It wasn’t so much a realisation that we needed a new destination (after the creation of Hate Hate Hate’s sister label Luv Luv Luv), but I felt that a label with a different aesthetic would be beneficial for the garage punk sound I had been hearing. The idea for Hate Hate Hate began as a bit of a joke, but eventually it became a realisation that actually this was something I could do. I’m pretty certain I am clinically tone

Personality and a palpable work ethic go a long way. The right people and associated crowds often congregate together consciously to make sure they work cohesively to achieve the best result, both for those professionally involved, the label and the artist, but also for those who count the most, the paying music lover.

LUV TURNS TO HATE

Sam Gull

LUV TURNS TO HATE

“I haven’t had to chase a band exactly, I’ve just been lucky enough to know a manager or a promoter involved with bands such as The Wytches and it has been a pretty organic signing. I offer singles deals, usually involving vinyl and digital releases. It is nothing too heavy so it attracts bands that maybe prefer that way of working. Theo is a really nice chilled guy who makes great thrashy pop music. We first started talking a few months ago, and he sent me the demos for the Heavy Sunn EP, which I loved immediately. We met up and decided that we both just wanted to get the EP out there. Theo is constantly writing and recording new music which is something I admire about him,” states Sam.

The polite demeanour of this label owner and the dynamic business visions of Hate Hate Hate have perfectly suited the characteristics of Verney and his dedicated musicianship from the offset. Sam’s Hate Hate Hate Records has also consistently managed to push the entire stock of any newly released single to eager fans. “Every time we’ve sold out of a particular single is a memorable occasion which I always consider to be a good way of measuring our current success. When we saw The Wytches play at Reading Festival this year we thought it was going to be empty because it was so early in the day but there were about six hundred people there, all dancing and having a great time,” recalls a gleaming Sam.

Interestingly it was Theo who was the one to approach Hate Hate Hate with the aim of working together, “I just emailed Sam; I think a lot of people are afraid to simply email people out of the blue. What attracted me to Hate Hate Hate was that I could see they were getting good coverage for bands like The Wytches and LOOM whilst still managing to remain a small indie label. The fact that the label is only very young as well is massively appealing to me. They have let me have total creative control meaning I don’t have anyone telling me how my music should sound,” he assertively tells us.

This is about dedicated, sincere individuals with an avid passion for music that bolsters their personal work endeavours. There is no corporate malignancy, red tape or executive twaddle, this is one man and another, unified by a love of making amazing tracks. Sam and Theo are level-headed men with inspiring drive and charming extroversions. It isn’t at all surprising that at this moment in time, one is signed to the other. It was meant to happen. The aim is always shared: to produce the best possible outcome, fantastic music.

BOON

WHO THE FUCK ARE R OYA L B LO O D ? Words: Will Godfrey | Photography: Steve Glashier

Seemingly out of nowhere, Mike Kerr and Ben Thatcher, the duo who make up Royal Blood, have been making the taste makers and talent spotters of UK music alarmingly excited with their brand of merciless rock music. Despite having only three songs online, the pair have already bagged representation from management gurus Wildlife Entertainment and gained major television exposure when their T-shirt was worn by Arctic Monkeys’ drummer Matt Helders during their headline Glastonbury set back in June. Eager to dig deeper into this mysterious new British band, BOON met up with vocalist and bassist Mike Kerr, for Royal Blood’s first ever face-to-face interview. We expected to meet a frontman with attitude to match his band’s music, but instead discovered someone reserved and genuine, both proud and surprised by the situation he now finds himself in as Royal Blood make their crucial first steps into the public’s consciousness.

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Mike Kerr makes no bones about Royal Blood’s whirlwind rise to attention: “The last time we played in Brighton I think four people were there,” he opens with when asked about the triumphant return to their hometown the pair had made at The Haunt the night before our interview. The venue manager had confessed that he thought thirty people would show up, but the night was packed with an eager crowd, national music press and representatives from major record labels.

that that’s all you’re hearing. I think at most all we really did was add a shake of a tambourine.” Armed with only two instruments and Kerr’s urgent vocals, the pressure to be skilled players must be high, yet Kerr is relatively new to both bass and singing. “I started playing piano when I was six – I’m really a pianist,” he confesses, before explaining his unusual transition to bass while in previous band Hunting The Minotaur, in which he played the bass keys. “I even went on to a keytar!” he tells us, before realising that keytar enthusiasm isn’t something that should be discussed openly.

A quick glance at any live reviews of Royal Blood can go some way to understanding such an impressive turnout. Live is what they live for: “The whole thing really is based on our live performance, even our recording process,” Kerr explains. It’s incredibly impressive that two people can create such a full, powerful sound.

With singing, Kerr went through a self-imposed incubation: “I spent three years in a former bandmate’s bedroom learning how to sing,” demonstrating his successful and dedicated work ethic. When he starts talking about his more recent adoption of the bass guitar, the musician positively lights up as he discusses the alchemic creative process of finding his own unique sound.

Good rock duos aren’t scarce: The White Stripes, Death From Above 1979, Blood Red Shoes, The Black Keys, Deap Vally, Drenge, but when you first hear ‘Figure It Out’ you are convinced that more instruments feature on the track. Kerr is quick to rebut this: “Contrary to popular belief there’s actually no electric guitars on any of the recordings. We just filled a room with four or five amplifiers, all on full and all having a different sound, and at the other end was just one bass. It’s really important to us

“I experimented with a few things. The main thing I was interested in was using more than one amplifier. I started out with two, using octave pedals and fucking around in my room. One day I was experimenting with that, but I’d wired it all up wrong in my room...I played it and it wasn’t what I intended it to do but that was the beginning

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of a sound which was like a bass and a guitar at the same time. I phoned all my mates and said, ‘you have to come round to my house! I’ve made the best sound ever!’”

communication, and even inspiration, come easily. It is essentially damage limitation; ensuring that the person you are in a band with is on exactly the same page as you.

It’s a pretty good sonic answer to Kerr’s own mission statement when he started playing bass: “How can I make one instrument sound as big as fucking possible?” It’s not just power and noise though, there’s been thought behind this process, and he seems to have found a winning formula. “We use three amps on stage and I forget that there’s only two of us. I don’t feel like there’s any room for anything else,” he says, before acknowledging the paradox: “Less is more, but sometimes I think more is more.”

There’s an interview with Jack White, where he talks about the ideas of restriction and creativity. Like Kerr, White isn’t playing his first instrument in his band (he learnt to play the drums long before guitar) and again like Kerr, his relationship with his other band member was very close. Kerr is quite shy in person, but there is something within him that gets vented by the music he creates, something relating to power and control. It is an aggressive, instinctive and highly creative force. That’s what gets reflected in the live show; like a caged animal you can see Royal Blood’s energy pour relentlessly forth, an embodiment of Jack White’s belief that restriction leads to creation.

So if Kerr is so determined to create his vast sounds is he content to limit this to what only two people can create? It’s the relationship between the pair which make Royal Blood work: “Me and Ben have such good chemistry, so it’s quite easy to write together. We’ve been playing together for so long, and I’ve never had that with anyone else. I don’t really have to say anything in the rehearsal, you know? We just go through ideas and we’re always, always on the same page.”

Kerr isn’t like this all the time, just on stage. In conversation it’s clear he and Thatcher are still getting to grips with the increasing attention. When asked about the first time Royal Blood got played on BBC Radio 1 Kerr replies, “have you watched Wayne’s World? You know that bit where they’re looking down on the set and he’s like ‘Isn’t it weird, we’re looking down on Wayne’s basement only that’s not our basement!’ It was a little bit like that.” It seems to be an almost out of body

They seem to have a special musical and creative bond; where they are so comfortable with one another that

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experience for Kerr – partly because he’s been dreaming of being in this position for so long, and partly because he’s so entirely different in person from his onstage/in-song presence.

Queens of the Stone Age and Muse. Kerr however is more interested in the comparisons which haven’t been made: “The first thing you do when you hear something is you want to compare it. You want a reference point. We’re obviously going to get compared to two-pieces because the nature of being a two-piece is that you are all kind of trying to do something similar... It’s funny though, because there are other comparisons which haven’t been said which surprise me...Them Crooked Vultures. That’s a huge, huge influence for us. And The Raconteurs, and Foo Fighters...just big rock bands that we get obsessed with.”

Another key moment for the two was when Matt Helders, drummer for the iconic Arctic Monkeys, wore a Royal Blood tee during their headline set at Glastonbury this year: “It was funny actually, he asked for a t-shirt. We still don’t have any merch yet, but he wanted one to wear...so we made a few, but I didn’t know if he was going to wear it because we’d disappeared into the festival at that point and our phones had no signal...You’re watching the massive screen because there’s so many people you can’t even see the stage then you’re like ‘fuck, that’s my band’s t-shirt!’ For a member of that band to give you the salute, it melts your brain a little bit.”

Kerr looks upwards at the greats of modern rock music, those who have reached the peak of the musical mountain he and Thatcher have only just begun to climb. So what does he think of Brighton’s music scene then, the great incubator for Southern musical talent? “The whole ‘scene’ thing concerns me a little bit,” reflects Kerr. “To me if there’s a scene it can get a bit cliquey, and it becomes a club that’s great if you’re in it, but not a good thing if you’re not a part of it.” He returns to talking about the difficult shows when they started out: “We played in the Pav Tav, and The Black Lion at one point and everyone was having their dinner. Then we rocked up and they were like ‘turn it down!’.

Kerr is a big Arctic Monkey’s fan, calling the group “not just any band, but a huge influence, something you grow up listening to.” Therefore his melting brain is hardly surprising. He’s also, perhaps unexpectedly, a fan of Queen – Royal Blood had just finished the first stint of recording for their debut album in Rockfield Studios, where song-of-songs ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was recorded. The more obvious musical influences that have been suggested by comparison-hungry music bloggers are The Black Keys, The White Stripes,

W H O T H E FU C K A R E ROYA L B LO O D ?

So I don’t think we really got a chance to become a part of [the Brighton ‘scene’] anyway.” There’s clearly a sense of relief about not getting trapped in one city’s scene:

He’s got a point, there’s a nascent craving for a return to days of rock for rock’s sake, music for music’s sake – that’s what Royal Blood are offering. Free of pomp, strut and ego these two men are very real people who want to make powerful music influenced by normal life as much as it is by their musical idols. When asked what his songs are about Kerr is quick to explain: “The songs are from personal experience, the same shit everyone else writes about, you know? Getting your heart broken and hating women for a while, and hating everyone. As long as it’s real for me then that’s important I think...I want to make sure that I’m communicating something about what I’ve experienced.”

“It’s convenient to put us down as a Brighton band because Ben lives in Brighton, that’s where we rehearse, that’s where we write and that’s where our little fan base has been born. It would be funny to say Royal Blood are from Rustington and Worthing but no-one really knows where they are. They’re just little seaside towns down the road where people go to die.” His ambitions lie at the other end of the music industry, with the rock legends in the upper echelons, far away from dead-end towns and pub shows. Perhaps there is a space waiting for a band like Royal Blood up there: “I feel like there’s not a lot of rock music around at the moment that’s good,” states Kerr, “I can only count five or six [groups] that I really love... I think that rock has a lot of bad connotations that come with it; you think of Axl Rose, or a free CD that comes with the Daily Mail.”

As with their Wildlife Entertainment roster-mates The Arctic Monkeys and Drenge (one of Kerr’s favourite new bands – he’s been listening to their self-titled record just before our interview), Royal Blood are a band with not just talent, but honesty. Two songs online and a blistering thirty minute live show isn’t enough to satisfy curious ears, and a mystique surrounding them still prevails as a consequence, but not for long. Next year, Royal Blood are going to step out of the black and into the limelight if their fantastically energetic and popular rock anthems are anything to go by.

The heroes of the past have become beached and bloated, riding the ripples of their legacies and steered by their inflated ego. “Maybe people just want some more rock; maybe it’s just a ‘right place at the right time’ thing.”

BOON

RIDE Words: Matthew Watson www.format34.co

There is something truly captivating about watching your work develop, about watching images carefully permeate through the negative film roll; an excitable crescendo where the dexterous efforts and tentatively thought out details fuse together and bring that moment back to life once again. In a saturated and often vacuous world where digitalism abounds and manufactured frivolities cast a shadow over true inspiration and individual creativity, the use of analogue and traditional photographic nomenclature faces an increasingly difficult future. However there are still purveyors of this style of photography who meticulously ensure that these methods are never forgotten. Format 34 are a collective of photographers who continue to work by these important ethics. Barcelona, London, Paris, New York, Berlin, locations are diverse, shooting styles are fantastically unique and every individual photo exudes the hard-work of its creator. From raw portraitures, to dynamic studio craftsmanship, every member imbues the Format 34 ethos.

RIDE

Utilising various industry techniques and aged film formats, each piece is nurtured into an accomplished work of art that epitomises the classic production qualities and artistic visions that can only ever be etched onto a length of film. Photos are evocative, realistically cleansed and most importantly, organic. Themes, lighting, sets, fashion, every intricate facet is explored and considered to achieve the best possible shot. With this in mind, BOON exclusively commissioned Format 34 to produce a series of photos with transport as the sinuous thread uniting each image. The exhibition entitled “Ride” is a showcase of interpretative expressionism, of gleaming light interplay, sultry tones and fluid lines. Each image perfectly reveals the ‘isms’ of its photographer whilst remaining true to the purposes of photography and the underlying passion of Format 34. To view BOON and Format 34’s latest commission be sure to visit the photographic exhibition of “Ride” at Create Studios on New England Street, Brighton, from 6pm between the 6th and 8th of December.

RIDE

Meagan Long

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Steve Glashier

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Nima Elm

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Eleni Mettyear

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Eleni Mettyear

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Nima Elm

BOON

NOT SITTING BAC K Q U I E T LY Words: Matthew Watson | Photography: Steve Glashier & Nima Elm

What makes people want a career in music? Is it a natural, almost individually indigenous calling to some? A haphazard decision made in the rambunctious years of youth to others? Why do it? So many questions can be frantically launched at a band or solo artist who are fully immersed in the infantile stages of their career that the key factors, the important ones, often get lost in translation and discarded for punchier questions or vested materialistic intrigue. What is most interesting is groups of bands are all doing it at the same moment in time, together, en masse. So are there common similarities between musicians? A positive correlation where personal backgrounds effectively nudge those musically gifted into the industry simultaneously? Renowned filmmaker and photographer Steve Glashier has commissioned a film alongside BOON entitled “Late Night Lingerie” to document live recording sessions, in-depth interviews and on-tour escapades amongst a plethora of new bands. “My main interest is in people’s relationship with music and how they approach this,” Steve elaborates. This is a film to highlight what actually drives these individuals to become musicians in what can essentially be described as an already saturated market and to reveal the finer nuances and details that help sculpt a band at such a fledgling stage.

N OT S I T T I N G BAC K Q U I E T LY

Past the weathered exterior of Brighton’s prestigious Electric recording studios lies a catacomb network of halls and angulated stacks of recording equipment, tarnished leather chairs and inquisitive soundboard LEDs. A building unique in character and important industrial worth. In one of the recording suites we settled down alongside Glashier and his team to interview members from four bands: Chris Moon (Rusted Guns) Jack Bartrop (Nitzam) Jamie Hall (Tigercub) and Matthew Marcantonio (Demob Happy). Bands who have all played at the famous monthly Late Night Lingerie club deep in the cavernous realms of Sticky Mike’s Frog Bar. A night notorious for maniacal debauchery and musical calamity, masterminded by local events stalwart Eddie Goatman. A night that has spurred on the commissioning of this film and of these interviews.

over the development of each member’s particular style and direction; a clearly defined set of preconditions that has ensured each person eventually gets entwined within the music industry, to play an instrument and rally together others into a band that is loyal and dedicated. This film perfectly demonstrates the camaraderie and respect these people have for one another and such footage offers an enriching experience to any music lover. “My Dad used to take me to a lot of clubs when I was younger and I really got into the electric blues scene when I was about sixteen. I began playing guitar and got quite good at it and realised it was something that meant a lot to me. I loved punk music like Sham 69 who were proper knees up and also some eighties bands,” Jamie recalls. Matthew’s experience is extremely similar too. “I grew up with two older brothers who were into dance music and The Chemical Brothers. Then I heard Queens of the Stone Age and I was like, “wait, something else exists.” My dad was a musician so the ability was kind of set up. I started playing piano and only played guitar out of necessity for the band.”

From a methodical perspective, we start from the beginning; to understand the source that has lead to the outcome. This film perfectly extracts the reasons as to how these four men decided that being a musician was the career for them and the influential determinants that have fostered this creative ambition.

The identical experiences of each man is something to draw comfort from; there is no manufacturing, no glossy bravado. The raw emotions and opinions of

Intriguingly Glashier’s work has helped to uncover a clear paternal and brotherly orientated influence

N OT S I T T I N G BAC K Q U I E T LY

those involved transcend the moving footage, this film gives the bands room to breathe, to vulnerably open up and allow people to gaze into their world. The film is intimate and detailed and thus gives the audience a rare opportunity to understand this industry and the group dynamics of pugnacious young men. Glashier’s own opinion perhaps perfectly sums up such findings from the interviews, “this is more about having a calling and being supported by people around you, not simply jumping on a band wagon. This is organic.”

Matthew’s response nicely epitomises this idea of rugged entrepreneurialism, “we have always approached stuff with a ‘DIY’ ethic because it is something that has always appealed to us artistically. All of us are control freaks and we like to know exactly what we are doing. If we are in control then it turns out exactly how we want it to and you are the only ones responsible. A lot of people we have talked to think that we have had management because we command so much control ourselves but in actual fact it has just been us so then people actually realise what you do and what it is all about.” Jack’s band Nitzam also share this fundamental ethos that ‘doing it yourself ’ is the best method to use. “We all just listen to different music and we all have different ideas with where the band is going to go and the direction. We think about it all the time. We just want to be a band that people are listening to. Where people steal an album off the internet in like twenty years time to play. As long as we can keep doing that together then that is all right.”

Neither member conferred with the other prior to being questioned making what was said all the more extraordinary for being so similar. The paternal and brotherly bond that these four men had at a young age has catalysed an interest that continues to flourish. Almost in tandem this element of growing up has nurtured all of the member’s musical intrigue, whilst the musicians themselves, nurture a particular stylistic thread that then gestates over a number of years. Their answers, the reality, is that their music is exceptionally personalised and unique.

This “Late Night Lingerie” film cleverly reveals a simple formula between these bands: create your own material, experiment, ascertain what works and doesn’t work then develop it further. These artists are the only ones who truly know what is best, this is their career; a pompous recording manager in a suit cannot properly comprehend

Another obvious trend that permeates through the course of the interviews is the professional attitude and unwavering passion for creating, writing and producing music amongst the four at a grass roots level.

N OT S I T T I N G BAC K Q U I E T LY

the fragility of musical compositions and production, try as they might.

out. We have had loads of free help. Down in Brighton there are even more musicians. Everyone just gravitates. I guess you could say there is a scene but I wouldn’t like to call it that. When I first moved down no one wanted to see live music and no one gave a fuck but now they do. And this thing, this documentary you guys are making, I think it is great.”Asked whether he thinks there is obtainable support, Matthew is in full agreement, although support can come in the form of competition too. “I like to think so. I don’t think any of the bands are under the illusion that should something happen to one that it would necessarily filter down. “Everyone pitches in together as a unit, it is something quite special,” Chris reiterates.

The gratuitous intentions that are etched across one too many a new music artist in this modern era are not to be seen within the softly padded walls of the Brighton Electric studio, nor in fact through the entirety of this commissioned film. They simply do not exist. There isn’t any footage filled with careless irreverence and juvenile self indulgence, each shot, each frame is bestowed with artists who are assured. Answers are delivered with assertive diction and aplomb. Chris for example, highlights this applied understanding when it comes to making music and how pivotal it is to really think about what you are creating. “Within a band, subtlety is very important. It is about knowing when to play and when not to play, it is about complimenting each other for the song instead of just doing what you want to do.”

After six years of following bands and gaining a first-hand account of the nature of musicians amidst the frenzied complexities within the industry, Glashier himself has an accurate perspective that has invariably dictated what this commissioned film chose to focus on. “No one was ever asking these smaller bands how they approach music and that most importantly it was for artistic reasons. This is about what fundamentally makes these people be musicians: grouping together, longevity in people as artists, looking at bands who have leverage and those who do it DIY. They are not sitting down, quietly waiting for the fucking door to ring.”

Throughout the film there is always a sense of appreciation from these men. Of gratitude towards people like Glashier, to Late Night Lingerie and clubs such as The Green Door Store or Sticky Mike’s Frog Bar for the support they help to provide. Jamie nicely portrays how things stand between bands and the support that is out there. “I think there are loads of people who want to help bands

CIDY LIFE

BOON

Word s: R obbie Ca na le | P hotog r aphy : Ja me s Cl a re & Si mon Isle s w w w.c idyl i fe .co.u k

If in a moment of utter ennui you happen to look up the word ‘collective’ in the Oxford English Dictionary you will find it reads: formed by or constituting a collection, taken as a whole. Nowhere in that short, italic-font does the great British tome make reference to another pillar of the British cultural psyche, You’ve Been Framed. But then Cidy Life aren’t your typical collective. This band of rollerblading brothers are a collective in the loosest sense of the word; they’re more a bunch of mates who just so happen to share an interest in rollerblading antics and having a laugh. The fact they produce t-shirts, shoot videos of their exploits and are in the process of producing a book from their gargantuan library of photographs, I guess makes them a collective, but it all just seems a bit too formal for this crazy bunch of twenty-somethings who are merely intent on enjoying life while youth is on their side.

CIDY LIFE

Made up from a gang of lads who stem from an assortment of geographical and professional backgrounds – from illustrators to retailers, photographers to students – there are two key elements of life uniting this group: Brighton and rollerblading. Oh, and everyone’s favourite early evening TV show on a quiet Saturday night in.

“If Ryan left Brighton I think the whole thing would come to a halt, but then again this was never about doing something forever.” That’s the beauty of Cidy Life. There’s no pretence to what they do, neither bravado nor overriding sense of self-worth. They do what they do not for money or fame but simply because they love it. It beats sitting around waiting to get old.

BOON are sat around a table in a local boozer with six of the main Cidy Life protagonists: Ryan, Dan, Jake, Steve and Simon. “The original idea of Cidy Life, other than to rollerblade, was to make it look like you’re watching You’ve Been Framed,” Ryan explains. “We want to have that old, grainy feel to the videos and everyone is just laughing along. It should be funny and feel nostalgic.”

Theirs is a humble, refreshing take on life in an age when fun seems to have become secondary to doing something for fame or infamy. Ryan possesses a calming yet authoritative voice, his words delivered with conviction: “We just do it to enjoy ourselves. When we’re old we just want to have something to look back on and go ‘yeah we did something we loved.’”

So what is funny about throwing your body from 10ft jumps onto a concrete floor, crashing off steel hand rails and rushing headlong into every ramp a skate park can throw to ultimately makes every last sinew of your body strain with adrenaline? I’m not quite sure, but then again, I haven’t been rollerblading since entering my teens; unlike Ryan.

While Ryan talks, Jake, the owner of Loco Skate shop in Eastbourne, looks on, absorbing his friends words. There is a brooding intensity to him, as though he is on the cusp of joining every conversation but then decides to keep his thoughts to himself, when suddenly he pipes up: “The whole premise of this is because the industry does take itself so seriously and we’re about having a laugh with your mates.”

Ryan is the glue keeping this outwardly discordant bunch together, a fact made plain when the effervescent Dan, who speaks like he blades, fast and fearless, chimes in:

CIDY LIFE

The contests [the guys compete individually at various competitions] can be hilarious. It’s amazing how serious everyone takes it and that’s why when we go along we try to get away from all that. We go to be amongst our friends, we go to catch up with old mates. The whole point of this is that it won’t last forever. It’s about this moment in our lives when we are all in living in the same area.”

And the truth is, that feeling really is enough for the Cidy Life collective. You can picture these lads in fifty years time regaling the stories they tell me to their grandchildren, it’s easy to imagine them laughing and joking with one another - as they do now – the eyes of their offspring glistening with awe as they listen to tales of death defying leaps, broken limbs and a fearless youth lived hanging on the edge.

Another member, Steve Collis, has the endless enthusiasm of a new born puppy. With an exterior that ensures he looks every bit a Californian skater circa 1970, all beanie hats and muscular limbs supporting a 6’2” frame, Collis is quick to point out, “doing this is like a self-promotion ideal that travels full circle. The little money we make via merchandise just goes straight back into funding a better camera or better lens, we certainly aren’t doing this to make any profit.”

As the conversation winds down and the boys prepare to skate off into the distance, it seems fitting that Ryan, the catalyst for the antics these lads put them themselves through, should have the last word: “At the end of the day, we’re just doing this for a laugh.”

Yet that’s not to say these down to earth lads don’t get a sense of enjoyment when they do see kids wearing a Cidy Life tee: “Just recently at the comp there was a kid wearing one of our t-shirts and it was a pretty cool feeling to see that,” says Simon, his eyes lighting up as he recalls the event: “The fact that these kids like what we’re doing, that’s a good feeling to have. That’s enough for us.

CO L D C R O W S D E A D | LU K E S I TA L-S I N G H | PAU L S T E E L | T H E W Y TC H E S | T H E XC E R T S W W W. R AYG U N M U S I C .CO M

0 2.12.13 B R I G H TO N , T H E H O P E – 15.12 LO N D O N , BA R FLY – 17.12

“a n en t i rel y i n t r igui ng sound t ha t is a t onc e c reepy a nd b eau t i ful” – B r i n g T h e N ois e

w w w.coldcrowsdead.com

DIY OR DIE

BOON

Words: Sara Harman-Clarke | R e s e a rc her s: L au r a Brow n & Ste v e Brow n

This is the motto of Brighton’s The Photocopy Club and doubtless thousands of other photographers and ‘zinesters’ around the world. How else do you get published in today’s saturated market? The answer harks back to childhood dreams lost in safety scissors and sticky-back-plastic; it’s time to take it into your own hands and make it fun, real and accessible. The age of DIY Culture is here; embrace it and self publish. BOON tracked down three bright young photographers, Eleni Mettyear, Milo Belgrove and Kevin Novales who are all producing their own ‘zines’ (original pictures or text printed and bound cheaply, often photocopied and in small print runs) and got them to reveal their motivations to self publish and their working processes. We also spoke to Matt Martin who runs Brighton’s The Photocopy Club about his ever expanding project of self publication, which aims to give a platform for artists and photographers to exhibit their work at the lowest possible cost.

DIY OR DIE

Kevin Novales

DIY OR DIE

Essentially self publishing is about putting yourself on the line, funding your own projects, remaining continually optimistic and sometimes even enjoying the ride.

illogical to self publish: it takes time, requires substantial investment often from your own pocket and sometimes all that gets you nowhere. This then raises the question; is it worth it? That all depends on what worth is. Some ‘zines’ have made it big – Dazed and Confused, Giant Robot, Bitch – but the majority are small scale, low budget, underground offerings that circulate in the right places, but not within the mainstream.

However, achieving a publishing deal isn’t paramount to a lot of creatively industrious individuals. The focus is much more on utilising your initiative, a good deal of cutting and pasting, prioritising issues on your own and then being in a viable position to self publish. “Holding your work, printed and bound is a great feeling,” says Eleni Mettyear, a Brighton based photographer and ‘zine’ maker. “I really cherish some of the zines I have; knowing someone might feel that way about your work is very rewarding.”

However, DIY Culture is far more important than simply making money. It’s a way of life. People love to do this. “Financial rewards are shallow,” suggests Milo Belgrove, a documentation style photographer and ‘zine’ maker. “Money shouldn’t be a driving force behind something you’re deeply connected to.”

The key point here is holding something tangible in your hands, taking photographs and art off screens which, Eleni suggests, “is brainwashing. Everything seems the same and nothing has any real meaning or affect. When photographs are printed and bound you see them differently, even if subconsciously, the layout, size, paper, all play a part in the final image.”

Kevin Novales, a photographer and zine maker from California thinks that “going mainstream would take a bit of soul and charm away from ‘zines’,” but also hopes that people will find a new hobby in self publication and appreciate it for what it is. Likewise, Eleni doesn’t want ‘zines’ to go mainstream, but to become “a bit more present in the art world.” Being underground definitely has an exclusive charm to it though; “it’s in the nature of it,” she explains.

It is a refreshing and vital way of seeing art and photography, one that seems to be growing ever more prevalent. To some it may seem mad or

DIY OR DIE

Milo Belgrove:

Eleni Mettyear:

The Photocopy Club:

DIY OR DIE

Mainstream or not, there are ‘zine’ fairs and festivals all over the world, calling out to like-minded and creatively proficient people, attracting overseas submissions and interconnecting links within the community.

a long list of photographers that give him inspiration. The culture, people and love that is captured in these zines will still be relevant and important for future generations, despite the age of digital photography in which we live. “Paper will always be used,” says Milo Belgrove. “So ‘zines’ and their part in alternative culture will always be admired and produced.”

Kevin Novales tries to submit to as many as possible, enjoying feeling part of an event and knowing that his ‘zine’ has travelled further afield than himself. It also benefits him as an artist to, “show (his) photos on a different platform and in a psychical state.” Eleni agrees, “a positive artistic development of making ‘zines’ is seeing your work in a different medium, which in turn can change the way you create and how you want to be seen.”

Rooted in free thinking punk activism ‘zine’ culture is alive and well, but there is always room for development. “Collaborate with people!” says Milo, while Eleni thinks there should be more things like Brighton’s The Photocopy Club, which is, “a perfect example of the direction things should be going.”

All three of these photographers say the majority of their zines develop organically, a series of pictures linking and forming together.

Matt Martin is the man behind this quickly growing project. With open submissions, photographers from all around the world send Martin photocopies of their pictures which are put up in exhibitions. The shows are “like a giant zine that everyone can take a page from”, and eventually will be made into a book.

“You shouldn’t overthink,” says Milo Belgrove. “Go with your heart.” He is the first to admit that his “biggest and most obviously consistent influence is love”, followed by Japanese art and philosophy. Eleni Mettyear takes her inspiration from films, music, culture and stories, although, she says, “what I’m shooting nearly always starts with a person.” Kevin Novales focuses on people too when it comes to subjects including his friends, girlfriend and

Matt set up The Photocopy Club in 2011 and since then he has done eighteen exhibitions in Brighton, London, Bristol and the latest to date in Hong Kong. He has acquired sponsorship

DIY OR DIE

and is now planning a full tour of Asia in mainland China, Japan and Korea in 2014.

The motivation behind Photocopy Club, Martin says, is “to exhibit and distribute work on a level playing field. To get people buying and collecting art at a price we can all afford. To support DIY Culture and help it grow. To get photography off the internet and into print and to build a community of like minded people across the world.”

Since his teenage years Matt has been involved in DIY Culture, putting on exhibitions while he was at college. He says the main problem was finding the money to do it. The idea was to “build a platform for photographers to exhibit and distribute their work at the lowest cost,” and so The Photocopy Club was born.

This sentiment perhaps bests sums up the nature of how creative art and photography should be. A style of printing and sharing utopianism that builds connections and showcases zines to an ever expanding audience, not just here in Brighton, or California, or Tokyo but all over the world.

Matt put posters up on his gallery blog which took off through the power of the internet. “The reaction they got was amazing,” he says. “Still to this day I can’t believe how far it has grown.” This seems to prove the hunger for accessible, affordable art, something Martin is tapping into but was there all along. Like so many before him, Martin was attracted to Brighton for the sea and the scene. He puts his move down to photographers Milo Belgrove, Eleni Mettyear, Kevin Mason and Sam Hiscox.

To read the full Q&A’s with Eleni, Kevin and Milo go to the BOON website: www.boon-magazine.co.uk

“They just did the best work in the UK and I wanted to work with the best gang I could find.” Now his own name is synonymous with not only that scene, but for bringing photography back to where it belongs; in the hands of the maker, in the hands of the public.

BOON