Error Magazine - Issue 01 by diecast

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rror One EContributors Chris Beaumont Boomstation Vanessa Bell Graeme Fraser Lewis Heriz Ian Leonard InspireBox Itchy Bum Little Battles Gilda Maurice Martyn Norman Andrew Pinaire Anita Roc Graeme Ross Tom Smith S24 Ben Weldon David Wierzbicki

Welcome

to error issue one

For those of you who remember the first outing, things have been re-shuffled a little to fit into the pdf format, but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s virtually the same as the previous version... Sincere thanks to all contributors, and to catskills and dj spikes for this issueâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mp3 downloads.

Record Label Catskills Records

James

Design/ Editor Boomstation

Legal

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Catskills Records

“It’s been a busy year here at Catskills HQ, with 12’s and 7’s and tours and a lovely hot summer!. HUSKY RESCUE’s critically acclaimed COUNTRY FALLS album was internationally released throughout the world, and tours, and Bestival, and Big Chill, and Shepherds Bush Empire. It also gave us a great excuse to release some great singles and get remixs from some of our favourite artists like Vector Lovers, Evil 9, Bonobo, Linus Loves to name a few. We also had some vinyl loving from our stalwart multi-tasker NYLON RHYTHM MACHINE, and a slew of good looks from our “developement” sister label Catskills:Projects - releasing follow ups from Aldo Vanucci, Kidda (now signed to our favorite local label Skint - OI!! - it was supposed to be OUR development label:)) and CH3VY, who followed up a fabulous 4 tracker with the

single HARD MASSAGE this year, to co-incide with the international roll-out of a set of PUMA T-Shirts designed by Ch3vy themselves - a good look...

The tail end of this year has seen the launch of two special things HARDKANDY’s long awaited album with two delicous slices of neo-funk - backed with remixes by Simian Mobile Disco and Ellmore Judd, and BEATHUT, our online indendant record store, combined with a very cool monthly magazine - BEATMAG (see what we did there).... Next year is kinda tiring thought ! - the release of the HARDKANDY album in Febuary and tours, and new albums from HUSKY RESCUE, the return of PEPE DELUXE, BLACK GRASS, our Tenth anniversary, which we’re marking by, you guessed it, releasing an album - as well as the launch of our online shop CATMERCH.... - here’s to another bumper year!!”

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Husky Rescue

CITY LIGHTS – MP3 An effortlessly beautiful travelogue through deserted neon-lit streets, featuring a restrained-yet-affecting female vocal, yearning pedal steel and twinkling shards of electronica. Given a classy remix treatment from some of the most exciting new producers out there. Brighton’s Product.01 bring some glacial electro to the party, treating the vocal and taking the track for a whirl on the dancefloor. Soma Records’ acclaimed Vector Lovers complete the package, subtly tweaking the soul of the original with some deft electronics.

catskillsrecords.com husky-rescue.com

Hardkandy

STATE OF YOU – MP3 The debut single from the album “LAST TO LEAVE” - This is a serious slice of future funk featuring Russ Porter (Quantic Soul Orchestra / Limp Twins) on vocals, and is produced by Brighton’s Lo Fi Allstars - delivering a poignant story of modern man, in decline, and a bit wasted.... Originally released with the instrumental and a blinding remix from Simian Mobile Disco, a grimy, glitchy, jerky indy dance version that stirred up heat with the mullets.

hardkandy.co.uk info@catskillsrecords.com

d e n g i s n U Artist I moved back to Bloomington, Indiana last year because I realized there were more good beatmakers per capita than in Chicago. It’s not a diss to Chicago, but more of a realization that this college town that I’ve had a long relationship with is really it for me. I’ve never lived somewhere that has such constant creative energy and diverse culture. I live in a neighborhood where you can’t walk a block without tripping over at least three musicians. As a result, I’ve been making music with varied handfuls of friends here and there. We have a small but potent beathead scene, with all kinds of production and vocal styles. It’s not limited to hip-hop or indie rock, but has some of the innards and soul of both.

So I’m using live instrumentation and improv sessions with friends for inspiration, and pulling in samples and turntable work in spots to fill it out. The two remixes are also by friends of mine that are part of the previously mentioned neighborhood. They both did them while I was away, and I think they sort of helped bring me back here. MP3

djspikes.com

In case you’re interested, fader magazine has a piece on bloomington in the current issue. it’s pretty surreal, as we’re sort of used to being overlooked here. thefader.com/fader/current_issue

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Before you i donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t think iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d ever seen anyone really dance

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artwork - lewis heriz

artwork - s24 / words - little battles

(before you)

Issue artwork - ian leonard

Issue artwork - chris beaumont

Issue artwork - itchy bum

artwork - chris beaumont

Mike was surrounded by things. Countable things, everywhere. The stripes on the crossing and the slats on the fence around Mr Jenkins’ house and the shoes of adults scurrying up and down the street to the bus stop and the stitches on the hem of the lady across from him in the opposite seat. His mother held his hand firmly, sitting next to him. They were on their way to the doctor’s again. Mike knows he can’t twirl around in the chair. Mike knows he can’t stand up and go against the wall and count the fibers on the old wallpaper. He sits and looks up and out the window. His mother and the doctor are talking. Anguished voice against droning, soothing, now-youmust-resign-yourself voice. Mike counts the heartbeats in his chest. It is always the same. Back to the house past the school where he couldn’t go. He counted the children playing, the bounces of the ball coming towards him and stopping against the fence. The kid picking up the ball on the other side looked at Mike. Two

Sitting alone at the kitchen table eating the cheese and ham sandwich his mother has made - two melting slices, two pieces of bread. One piece of ham. The sandwich is still warm but his mother is already gone; she has to work, past the ten streets to the post office, gone in angry steps - Mike has counted them, they were faster and bigger and fewer than the steps she took this morning with him, to the doctor’s. Mike looks at the clock and counts the minutes. Past the kitchen door to the small garden, where the washing flutters Mike counts the socks. But the socks are nothing, the socks cannot pass the time. Mike looks at the garden and the endless blades of grass. His mother won’t be home before it’s dark. Mike sits down, in his kingdom.

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words - andrew pinaire artwork artwork - inspirebox / words - gilda maurice

Count

small scars on his face where a pine cone wrapped in snow had landed that winter. Mike remembered the blood, the screams of the other kids, the almighty dread of what Mrs Bath, who had been surpervising, would say. Mike envied him and looked at the scars; but his hand was pulled angrily, as usual, and he followed along, to the house.

Issue artwork - david wierzbicki

Issue artwork - graham fraser

I am nothing more than anything less half fed typewriter blank page invisible ink on my chest

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artwork - graeme ross / words - tom smith

Nothing is nothing is nothing

Issue artwork - david wierzbicki

artwork - boomstation

Yesterday, I threw myself off the balcony. No reason. No build up or angst only to be solved by a swift plummet/impact-combo, just opened the door and vaulted over the railings down into a fall. Sucked air. Halfway down though, decided against it so rewound and watched myself fall into the bricks, limbs cracking and blood pooling quickly on the sand. Wouldn’t have been much of an experience... Would have pissed people off more than necessary, and I couldn’t have dealt with another fucking funeral filled with clichés. So I stuck the kettle on and brewed up a strong cup of leaves.

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artwork - graeme ross / words - boomstation

Balcony scene

Every body falls “why were you up here waitin’ for me with a gun?...”

(no one ever taught him there was more than one kind of love)

“huh, kid?...”

every body falls

artwork - vanessa bell

“i’m your brother, don’t you remember?...”

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(but some know better)

artwork - boomstation / words - little battles

(he looked stunned, for once)

I’m gonna die young

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artwork artwork- inspirebox / words - tom smith

I can’t stop coughing it’s got my hands jerking stopping me from rolling my next cigarette

Pickles Let me introduce you to pickles. He’s got a less conventional headment than most, but he’s here, and you’re here and well... we might as well sit down and snap a few words in two over a cup of biscuits in these plastic chairs, in this sterilised, I’m sitting in the passenger seat as we speed along the motorway, hot air blasting against my cool skin. I’m taking in the wet Scottish autumnal echoing room with the big toughened landscape. I watch the wind trying windows and frequent glances. He’llto tease the golden leaves from the trees; but the trees won’t easily give them up, they are old and wise to the winds wayward advances. empathise over the sirens, aThis fixedangers the wind, it blows stronger frightening the leaves as they leap into the air trying to escape its wrath. The wind quickly its move knowing gazemakes throughout the whisking screeches,the leaves away with a flurry. a few nods of encouragement, and you’d know there you were collectively scuffing around on more than the average common ground, chipping the same squashed cans and cigarette butts out of the soil. IBut lower towards the white line rushing away from me. The line challenges me to a race, I foolishly accept the offer. I try my hardest to whatmy of eyes Pickles’ own monologue? keep it always dartsand off jolts? into the distance, running down my attempts. Whatup of but his stringy words Different story then… It’s all too slow, The white too fast, too vast, I give you see, allline too is sliced staccato for you to up. I watch it as it lazily dashes away from me, again. Something inside me wants to beat it but I succumb the futility of such an uneven return thetofavour, and after a while even contest. Yet, I chase after it. the most grateful amble away, letting Arriving at thegobbets destination thethe white these blurted fade in air line sprints over the finishing post, victorious, the crowd roars or rather the traffic does. With a nod I bid it farewell but it’s already racing other anonymous challengers, which I will again become upon my return. behind them as he watches a familiar scene play out minus credits, minus song, minus conclusion. So I‘ll leave him here with you, and you can leave him behind this time because it’s breaking my heart.

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artwork - chris beaumont / words - anita roc words - boomstation / artwork - chris beaumont

White lines

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(if i were to hazard a guess, iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d bet this wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be one of my great epics)

artwork - s24 / words - little battles

artwork - chris beaumont

Untitled

Issue artwork - graham fraser

Echoes of street scenes forgotten too many times

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artwork - itchy bum / words - tom smith

Alone (such a cliche) true though but whoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s to say a feeling felt for the thousandth time ainâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t as sharp as the first? We will: grow great gardens We will: talk words not yet discovered We will: wonder what went wrong as we dance oblivious

Issue artwork - martyn norman

artwork - lewis heriz

Something special

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artwork /words - boomstation

Fractured. decrepit, broken town.

....;. [supplement to thought coordinate.] ... :: . He caught himself up on the middle of the terrace. slowly sliding down he had to catch his breath. he wasn’t in any immediate danger, but the collective coordinates had caught up with him and time was no longer available. days, minutes, hours, no longer ticked for him. he was in a hurry. he had to be somewhere, a meeting with some friends, not any type of business matter or even a gathering of any significance, but to him everything was essential. he left. he left days ago. haven’t seen him. I don’t know anyone by that name. doesn’t look familiar. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m in a hurry, are we through? I’m off to meet some people. no one in particular, but whomever I see. Its a project im working on, I haven’t got a title for it yet, but it has to do with behaviors and such, you wouldn’t understand my work anyways, I don’t know why I bother explaining. Rain is starting to come down and there are a few animals in the trees ahead, nothing to worry about, keep your calm. we don’t need to rush. Let us move on. This isn’t where its supposed to be. On the second story is where I found him. He wasn’t quite aware of my presence, even as I shook his shoulder he just gazed through the wall with a deep stare. I don’t know what kind of medication the kids are taking these days but I cant think of a better way to kill the time. I left unanswered. I left him unheard. alone in the silence I paused to enjoy the density of the air. a thick fog maybe. its hard to tell anymore. I was better left at the park. at the side of the court. in the middle of the street maybe. anywhere is fine. I don’t mind. you can meet me in the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon. It isn’t of much consequence but i think it would be good to mention that

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artwork - graeme ross / words - andrew pinaire words / artwork

Something of a Phage (Part 1)

the yard is not too far from the concessions. there we would find nice people and gentle animals to be heard. I’ve left it on repeat, and it doesn’t stop until someone changes the settings. I must be going, but next time we’ll take care of our business. unless you would rather.. well, either way, I must be on my way, it was nice speaking to you. He’s often distracted by the reflection of eyes in his glasses, it only happens on nights when the room is shining bright enough. tonight is no exception. The sky is a wall of confusion, we exist within ourselves and cannot push ourselves beyond our means, which works out to be about an extra ten percent. just the right amount I would guess, depending on your state of mind. Enough of that talk though, we should see how the others are coming along. We met on the side of the station, trains and birds and rocks and things all gathered here. It wasn’t really worth the time but we managed a few glances and sideways interpretations. ... I guess I just cant see the full perspective from this vantage point. a ways away. a day like the way I expected. just enough to keep the birds moving along and the trains don’t stop for no one, not around here. transient dictators and drifting meadows light up the afternoon with a subtle glaze of mid-morning depression steeped in one-hundred percent ground arabica beans hand selected for my satisfaction. I longed for the day. but I knew it.... I knew it couldn’t be. not me, not today. it was that sort of introspection that got my license revoked. I now have a permit to practice on the days which are inconvenient to catch the waves on the little evening drops I seldom chance to see. It was a dream. but I woke up again. ...and now I see it wasn’t me. How could I?

Issue artwork - boomstation

artwrk - ian leonard

Issue artwork - boomstation

Error Issue Two Out in Summer 2006 Theme

Next issue’s theme is “fool”.

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Ta ta...

artwork

artwork - ben weldon

This is more a loose concept to work with rather than anything fascist. Feel free to submit work with nothing whatsoever to do with foolishment...

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Contributors & Information Contents Submit Mp3 Information Legal List of contributors

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Submit

Information

Spread sizes: Single – 375 x 500px Double – 750 x 500px (please submit images at 100+ dpi)

Error is published online on an as and when enough suitable material is received.

Written content should be around 450 words, although longer stories can be accommodated for over 2 issues. Submissions are not proof read. Please contact error before sending huge files.

Money Error is not a commercial venture – it is a privately funded enterprise and as such can offer no payment for the inclusion of work. Error relies exclusively on the support of its contributors.

Mp3 The mp3 section is a temporary download for the negotiated period, after which the download terminates. It combines both an unsigned and signed artist/label.

Contributors Low resolution examples of their featured work is sent out aprx. 2 weeks before the magazine is published. published to allow for any mistakes can be rectified.

If you’re a representative of a label, or would like your tracks considered for inclusion, please send an email. In the interests of practicality, please don’t add unsolicited attachments as these will be deleted without review.

email: error@errormagazine.com IMPORTANT Please have ‘submission’ in the subject field.

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Legal

In the interest of establishing concrete dates and times, each magazine is copied before publishing and sent to error’s legal representative. Should any copyright breaches arise, these copies are admissible in court.

All featured work (“featured work” in this context meaning submitted work presented on the magazine “pages”, including but not limited to artist’s photography, illustrations, design, written work, music, relevant company/individual logos) remains strictly under each separate artist’s copyright.

Error relies on the integrity of the contributors to avoid publishing uncleared work, and as such is not to be held responsible for contributor’s submissions. Any copyright disputes must be addressed directly to the contributor. Should any breach of applicable copyright laws arise from an individual/company submitting uncleared work, the offending content will be removed instantly and the contributor barred from submitting further material.

Material submitted by the record label (including but not limited to music, corporate identity material, photography, and written material) submitted to error remains strictly under the copyright of the record label. All other design work (including but not limited to logos, magazine layout and other visual elements/artwork) remains strictly under copyright of boomstation 2006.

For individual credits, please refer to the contributor profile pages.

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Chris Beaumont

Boomstation

Site

Contact

uptothehilt.com

boomstation.com

chris.beaumont@gmail.com

error@errormagazine.com

Information

I does freelance graphic design, musicalation, art direction, illustration, web, photography and various twisted writings, as well as editing/designing error magazine.

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Graeme Fraser

Vanessa Bell Contact

Site

Information

Contact

notthedonething@hotmail.com

flickr.com/photos/ackermilk ackermilk@gmail.com

Mixed background (french, czech, argentine, english). In the new year embarking on a small importing/distribution project, representing 4 designers in Buenos Aires in the british market, through market stalls and sale of one off pieces to small independent boutiques, with a website/sales through internet to follow. Entitled â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;sweetBAâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. Breaching the gap between argentine and british fashion has always been a dream. photography (particularly stencil and street art)/making art pieces is essentially recreational.

Information

No particular style, just the everyday. That said I am more interested in buildings, the inanimate and on the flipside the doing, than I am in humans and animals. McCullin, Weegee, Brassai and Robert Frank are my main sources of inspiration. To be fair they were all largely human focussed, however, it is the composition and the immediacy that gets me everytime. In fact, it is the black and white medium that unites all of these, and in turn, is my preferred medium.

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Ian Leonard

Lewis Heriz Contact

Sites

sopor.us/hokum/visual sopor.us/hokum/audio

lewis.heriz@gmail.com

Information

Contact

25 year-old illustrator, musician, actor and film-maker living in Nottingham, UK.

ohokumo@gmail.com

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Itchy Bum

InspireBox Site

Site

Contact

Information

inspirebox.com

itchy-bum.co.uk

richardmonk@inspirebox.com

braiden24@hotmail.com

Richard Monk creates innovative photographic, design and multimedia oriented work which is released under the InspireBox brand. Clients include a number of software houses and musicians. Please visit his site for more information

a 24year old grapholic from wolverhampton. uk

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Gilda Maurice

Little Battles Site

Contact

Information

littlebattles.modblog.com/

gmaurice@gmail.com

QAngelBoyQ@aol.com

Gilda comes from Paris but now lives in London, in a floating garden surrounded by swans.

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Martyn Norman

Andrew Pinaire

Site

Contact

abstractology.com

martyn-norman.co.uk

abstractology@gmail.com

m_norm_007@yahoo.com

Information

Oscar Wilde once said “try everything once, except incest and Morris dancing”. Well, by the age of ten, Martyn Norman was the third best Morris dancer in Britain. Educated and raised by L.S.Lowry’s nanny, Martyn spent his youth living beneath Stockport Viaduct, catching rats with his web-like hands and selling customised Ipod Nanos to history supply teachers. He had numerous encounters with the law, culminating in an incident at age 15 that involved hacking Stephen

Hawking’s voice emulator during a lecture on dark holes. His hobbies include golf, MC Hammer throwing and finding hidden codes in Mein Kampf.

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Graeme Ross

Anita Roc Contact

Site

anita.roc@googlemail.com

regolith.co.uk

Contact

graeme@regolith.co.uk

Information

er....nowt to say really.

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Tom Smith

S24

Site

Details kept anonymous

missingthumbs.blogs.friendster.com/ a_whole_bunch_of_wrongnes/ myspace.com/missingthumbs myspace.com/carbootdisco

Contact

Missingthumbs@gmail.com

Information

Writing as a diversion activity, engaging brain when attempting to detach. It’s nice when people read the words and then we can use more words to talk about the words. I’ve never written professionaly, I try to find biro’s or sometimes steal those little blue ones from Argus. Forvever spilling forth from the heart, that’s why it ends up such a mess.

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David Wierzbicki

Ben Weldon Site

Site

Contact

Information

mydot.co.uk

davidwierzbicki.com

me@mydot.co.uk 1978, when I was born my parents called me peanut, they did this because I was small and yellow and covered in salt. In primary school the children would lick me and laugh and call me big D. In my early teens I discovered that my salty coating made it easy to float on water, soon after my discovery the other kids tried to drown my in the school swimming pool by tying me to three fat kids. I remember they shouted, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Float now you flavoured fuckâ&#x20AC;?. On my 19th birthday I committed suicide by injecting a

wierzbickid@gmail.com litre of vinegar into my spine. I was immediately reincarnated as a 19 year old with ambitions of graphic design. I no longer have flavour, but sometimes, when no one is looking, I toss my self into the air and land neatly in my own mouth.

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Illustrator, Graphic Artist Toronto, Canada.

Fin

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