Quench Issue 2 - 2 Oct 2003

Read the first of our Postcards from France

Interviews talk to Timmy Mallet and Carina Round

Travel go mad in Spain

The bigotry of organised religion in Gay

Fashion accessorise, accessorise, accessorise

Features look around a very special ship

Music review albums, singles and live gigs

Books go out on the pull

Digital

Film get gory with scary zombies

The results of the first Quench Blind Date are in

Respect in Retrospect gives it up for Johnny Cash

The sports monkey gets angry in Riath’s Rant

DC Gates muses in his fortnightly column

Executive editor Tristan Thomas Quench editor Alex Macpherson Arts Rachel Pegum Books Maria Thomas Digital Gareth Lloyd,Simeon Rosser-Trokas Fashion Caroline Ellis

There are far too many walking clichés around university these days. Not just Cardiff, though throw a stone on Park Place and you’re bound to hit several culprits; this is a national rash of one-dimensional stereotypes brought to life.

You know the types by now: the townie-in-training,the indie kid,the wannabe-hippie stoner,the tiresome hectoring lefty,the Tory boy,the ones who try to be street (as Princess Superstar once said,“stop talkin’ about smackin’ crack hoes,you’re in college!”). All boring,boring, boring

Worse than the unwitting perpetuation of these models is the fact that so many seem actively keen to live up to them; it’s almost a badge of honour to pigeonhole yourself into a limited category,to define yourself according to narrow and ultimately meaningless parts of who you are.

It’s an ultimately futile denial of the complexity of individuals,and a lazy reaction to not being able to easily pinpoint what we essentially are,that ethnic,sexual and social labels still hold so much currency in human interaction - especially as the fluidity of personal identity is so key to understanding ourselves and others.

Features Rhys James Film Mat Croft Food Jane Eyre Gay Ian Loynd Interviews Rob Plastow Music Jamie Fullerton, Anthony Lloyd Photography Anastasia Nylund Sport Riath Al-Samarrai Tat Janine Jones Travel Tim Clark

Contributors Gary Andrews,James Anthony,Matt Aplin,Adam Brooks, Chewie,Andrew Davidson,David Ford,Gemma Griffiths,Jon Griffiths, Elgan Iorwerth,Rob Jackson,Morwenna Kearns,Andy Lightfoot,L Lucos,Andy Parsons,Cassidy Phillips,Shell Plant,Richard Samuels, Rob Telford,Trina Wallace,John Widdop Proof readers Sayantanee Chakraborty,Rhian Wolfe

Of course,this is not to deny the historical and cultural significance of such labels; context is and always will be everything. But here’s the thing:if you can only define yourself according to prefabricated identity boxes or aspects of yourself about which you don’t even have a choice, what does that say about the rest of your personality?Bereft of flair and spark,severely lacking in depth and ultimately extremely,moronically dullthat’s what.

Amber Duval Top

You’ll never be bored in a taxi again if you follow Amber’s advice sex laws for the 21st century

How far is too far in a taxi?

In a bar in Cathays the four of us sat,seductively sipping our Strongbow. While idly exchanging titbits from the previous night’s activities,one of us confessed to an embarrassing taxi faux pas: rearview mirror sex.

Dizzy from lust (and Liquid),she had taken on her alter sexual ego and had, in the heat of the non-air conditioned backseat,engaged in third base fun. Only on payment did “Drive” reveal the extent of her exhibitionism; his knowing nod and dreaded wink confirmed her fears: she had opened herself,literally, to free view; a real life midnight freebie, unsubscribed and in the flesh.

It got me thinking,“In a taxi,what is an acceptable amount of activity?”

Personal experiences have allowed me to group Cardiff cabbies as a sexually inquisitive species. Our inebriation is frequently exploited by the family man in possession of that all important swing-

ing photo-license. Interrogations usually begin fairly tamely. “Do you believe in sex before marriage?” initially seems a forgivable ice breaker,but which only leads to the more direct approach: “You like sucking cock?” Free rides can be negotiated for alternative payment. Neither marriage nor waiting punters interfere with the offer of a coffee.

One friend admitted to succumbing during a particularly skint patch. One snog and a zeroed meter later,she made her escape,only for him to wait expectantly all night outside in the vain hope of a pick up.

Just as any good driver,and certainly any taxi driver,knows,full use of mirrors is vital - especially in order to fully appreciate passengers’ underwear - or, as in this unfortunate incident,their absence.

And so,next time your companion offers to pay the full fare home,make sure any extras wait,or else be sure that your “innocent” taxi driver will clock every one. HO

S t u d e n t

c l i c h é s

We polled a hundred nonstudents to find out what the popular opinion is of students nowadays. The results were not good. So don't be a disappointment and break with convention. If you aspire to real student status,these are the ten things you should perfect...

1. Stealing traffic cones/ shopping trolleys

2. Eating only baked beans and pasta

3. Drinking and/or doing drugs

“It was the first one of the year and already it's starting to grate"

One cynical R&B fan after the union’s new rubberduck night

“The funny thing was you could hit children on the head with the mallet as hard as you like and it wouldn’t hurt, yet it could knock down a wall!”

Timmy Mallet to Quench

4. Copping off with anything that moves and shagging like bunnies

5. Political activism

6. Political apathy

7. Pathological skiving/taxdodging

8. Conforming to dress code: chunky sweaters,long scarves,DMs

9. Not washing

10. Becoming a know-it-all who habitually challenges the authority of 'adults' just because you have a bit of paper that means nothing against a lifetime of real experience 10

PETER BRAME

Peter deserves this accolade for demonstrating that life can be one long performance. Despite being voted out of the Fame Academy this week,it is probably fair to say that chart success beckons for this sweet young thing. His very appearance on the show is testament to the fact that we still have room for pure and unabated stardom, with none of that messy talent business getting in the way. Should he have won? I don't know,I don't watch the show and frankly,who cares? However,performing artist types pay attention: your time is now!

DIDO

"What did our ears do to deserve this?" is the communal cry across the land as the latest version of one hit wonder Dido's song ravages the airwaves. On the release of her brand spanking new second album we as one mourn the death of originality and plead,in the name of all that is innovative,"Stop this woman!" Dido is the Enya for the 21st century,and her wails and whispers will undoubtedly still sell millions - let us live in hope that she commits some atrocity that will make her as welcome on radio station playlists as Gary Glitter.

The search for Cardiff’s sexiest students

We do yoga and Pilates and the room is full of hotties so we’re checking out the bodies and yes, we’re satisfied. And so will you be with our brand spanking new inaugural feature this year,because it’ll be you checking out the hotties now. Here’s how it goes. Listen up, now. Over the next year,you will send in sexy photos of your fittest friends and lovers (or indeed yourself,if you think you cut it). Clothing is strictly optional. We will print them at a rate of one boy and one girl each week. At the end of the year,there will be some kind of vote (don’t ask us what kind,we haven’t decided yet),and one lucky pair will

be named Cardiff’s sexiest students. But really,that last bit isn’t so important,as it’s all for fun and done with tongue firmly in cheek (and who knows,maybe other places too if we get lucky). So get snapping; there will soon be nekkid people in your magazine,and that’s incentive enough for anyone.

Drop a photo with your name,your nominee’s name,contact details, year of study and course for both of you,and a sentence describing the nominee into the GR office on the fourth floor of the union,with ‘GR Sexiest Student’clearly marked on the envelope.Or email grmagazine@cf.ac.uk.All types of look welcomed.Get to it!

MSN

Is Microsoft really acting in the public interest by closing its chatrooms? Our columnists face off

Janine Jones FOR James Anthony

Just like the video nasties of their day and every other development in communication technology,the internet has caused its share of moral panics. Yet our children are still free to roam cyberspace,unpoliced and unprotected. There are floods of new reports about children who have been put in danger through meeting strangers on the internet,and finally internet service providers are taking measures to prevent it.

In the week that a fifteen-year-old boy from Wales was recovered safe and well after running away from home,to join youths he had met in internet chatrooms,MSN's decision to close down such chatrooms has been welcomed by parents and children's charities. Yet other chatroom providers are standing their ground,refusing to put an end to the service for the sake of those adults who use chatrooms as an innocent past-time. And for the sake of the money they make through sponsorship and advertising chat services,which may be small potatoes in comparison to higher revenue subscription areas - but for free services like Lycos,advertising is the mainstay of their profit.

The Cyberspace Research Centre statistics state that one in ten 9-16 year olds have met face-to-face with someone they have first encountered on the Internet. How many of us can say that as young teenagers we would have followed our parents’ advice and not taken part in this popular past-time? And if our parents and teachers had told us not to give out our mobile telephone numbers (had we been allowed such luxuries),would we have been more worried that our new friend was actually a paedophile masquerading as a teen,or that we might get caught disobeying our parents? It is a fact of life that children will disregard their parents’ advice,mistakenly believing it is about control rather than protection.

Arguing that people abusing chatrooms will move from MSN to other providers illustrates the cure,not the problem - if all services were banned or at least moderated,then there wouldn't be anywhere else for the unwanted element to go.

We all know that the best way to prevent children from meeting untrustworthy strangers is to make sure they can't ourselves - not to let them use the internet without supervision, to include measures of parental security so they are unable to access private messaging and chat areas. However MSN are making this job easier by limiting its chat facility so users can only access people they already know, so adults can still chat,but children are kept out of harm.

MAGAINST

ention Microsoft or Bill Gates to anyone remotely computer-savvy,and you'll get groans at best,and a severe kicking at worst. The 21st Century Third Reich,Microsoft rule all with an iron fist. Its decision to close its MSN chatrooms may seem like the actions of a kind-hearted,valiant protector of young innocents. Nothing could be further from the truth.

If Micro$oft gave a rat's ass about the children of their chatrooms,they'd spend more time protecting them,not taking away their playgrounds. MSN provided one of the most comprehensive chat environments available. It covered any conceivable topic,from regional chat,to discourse on preference of Furby.

This knee-jerk reaction needs to be considered long term. Kids relied on these environments as lifelines; now they're without refuge. The importance of these online relationships should never be underestimated or belittled. Alternatives are readily available,run by less reputable companies,and equally devoid of responsible moderation.

In the short term whole communities,disrupted by the disappearance of their meeting place,will be hurriedly giving out their email addresses and mobile numbers to anyone,terrified that they will lose contact with friends. This is the perfect opportunity for paedophiles to exploit children,their vulnerability magnified by the wave of panic.

Look at the conditions of Microshit's decision more closely. The chatrooms being closed are free. That means,oh dear,Mr Gates - the man with more money than God,and just as much power - ain't making a profit. The remaining options are subscription sites,or Microsoft's Instant Messenger. I'll bet you my dinner money that IM will be fee-based by the end of 2004. Microsoft has taken a calculated decision,based on the cost of employing moderators against keeping non-profit chat sites open,under the guise of caring Uncle Bill.

There are alternatives to human moderation. Expended effort is minimal: set up a bot (a program acting like a fake person) and make it behave in certain ways to keep the peace. If a person is abusive,the bot recognises certain words,and kicks out the individual with a predefined warning. Their nickname and IP address are registered. Repeat offenders are banned,no matter what their nickname,because the IP address is constant. I refuse to believe that Microsoft,in all their hi-tech glory,cannot devise an army of bots to deal with most unseemly circumstances in chatrooms. But then,that's not cost effective,is it?

Dom Perignon et dog crap

Apparently,life exists beyond Cathays! Grenoble bound Andrew Davidson launches our new feature as Quench catches up with students who have escaped the daytine TV grind

Having endured twenty-five hours in coach with seating designed exclusively for those shorter than 4"10,at midday on Tuesday 23rd September I found myself at the mercy of a thumping headache (too much vin de voyage en route,one presumes) in Grenoble coach station. Nestled betwixt a plethora of beautifully inviting mountains,the oft-consulted Rough Guide describes Grenoble as "lively and modern… indeed,the economic and intellectual capital of the French Alps". This fine conurbation is to be my home for the months of my contract as an assistant d’Anglais ,an English language teacher in three secondary schools.

Five long days have passed since the aforementioned epiphany and I now find myself contemplating the coming months I will spend in a country intriguingly rife with contradictions.

Par exemple : your roving hack stepped off a state-of-the-art tram and walked directly into the nearest bar to visit the toilette and imbibe a cheekypick-me-up (not simultaneously,you understand) only to find a long-drop style crapper into which one empties one’s bladder. Contemporary,socially and environmentally conscious technology only a few paces from an eighteenth century latrine.

On,then,to the issue of finding a house and it appears that there’s more paperwork than a day in a saw-mill. No accommodation agency will let a young British man even view a flat unless he can provide a salaried French citizen to guarantee his rent for the duration of a tenancy. This is,you realise,despite any amount of hard currency or job contract one might pass across the desk. Yet,at the same time as these Yves Saint Laurent-clad,pen-pushing Monsieurs fob off a prospective client,

they happily stimulate conversation regarding the weather,Anglo-French relations,vintages of Dom Perignon etc. So,whilst bureaucracy inhibits development of any professional relationship to the point of bitter rudeness,anyone you might meet on the search for a flat will be more welcoming than an Egyptian tourist office.

Lastly,I’ve seen hundreds (literally) of clean-shaven,sharply-suited,recently-showered individuals letting their dogs crap anywhere they wish. The stink of dog shit makes for an interesting juxtaposition next to the aroma of the dog owner’s Davidoff aftershave. Oh what an unkind kind I seem to be,writing in such a critical manner about the country in which I am now living. Unkind kind? Guess it all fits in with the first impressions of my new environment.

Beautiful Grenoble

W a c a d a y s !

While on his whirlwind tour of Welsh universities,the bespectacled legend of CITV’s 1980s golden era, Timmy Mallet,found the time to have a chat and offer some sound advice to yours truly. Advice,you may believe,is not something you would usually expect or indeed listen to when coming from a man whose entire persona can be found in a psychology textbook as symptoms of hysteria and psychosis. However,in the context of chil-

dren’s TV,Timmy Mallet makes a lot of sense: he is the paradigm of kid’s entertainment.

So,as the interview progressed I found myself being led down Memory Lane and reminded that life was much simpler as an eight-year-old Wacaday fan.

time who didn’t look too impressed; he couldn’t believe that I’d just smacked the Prime Minister with my mallet. That was probably Norman. But good work Timmy! How’s the tour going? Very well. We take the Wacaday tour to nightclubs,so all you students can remember what it was like to be eight again and just have a jolly good time. We do Mallet’s Mallet and all the old stuff. Take you back to an easier time. You don’t have to worry about that assignment you have to do or a relationship or fitting in,money and so on. Like the days when you sat watching the show with a tomato sat next to you and one leg of your shorts rolled up. You may be 20,but at least for one night you can be eight again.

One major event of the 20th century was the fall of the Berlin Wall. That,for me,and no doubt many others,was framed entirely by Wacaday’s coverage. The image of you standing on a monument of the Cold War battering it with a large pink mallet is all I can recollect of the time.

Timmy lives! Rob Plastow finds there’s life in the Mallet yet...

So how did it all begin?

I guess I was just in the right place at the right time,really. Everybody gets a chance,and that was mine.

Do you think you could have done anything else? You seem as if you were born with those glasses on and mallet in hand.

Well you can only ever be who you are, and you have to realise your strengths and go for it. We can’t deny who we are, can we?

Any other comments?

BLAH!!!

Yes,I agree. (At this point I exchange BLAHS! repeatedly with Mr Mallet, through fear.)

Anyway,we all remember Mallet’s Mallet and Itsy-Bitsy,but how is Magic the budgie?

He’s not a budgie,you fool! He’s a very special cockateel! And he’s very well… thanks for asking.

Sorry Timmy. What was the most satisfying part of your career to date apart from playing at Creation?

Without a doubt the most satisfying person to mallet was Margaret Thatcher. She took it very well.

I’ve heard she does,yes. There was some chap behind her at the

Thank you,that means a lot to me to know that we reached some people. That was a great event. The funny thing was you could hit children on the head with [the mallet] as hard as you like and it wouldn’t hurt,yet it could knock down a wall!

Keep an eye out for Timmy doing the student rounds at Creation this year.

Girl uninterrupted Wolverhampton’s finest singer gets personal. Alex Macpherson meets Carina Round

Carina Round has a way of searing herself indelibly into your mind, from her breathtakingly charismatic live performances to her two albums, superlative exercises in experimentation and,overwhelmingly,a rare,raw intensity. She’s certainly made an impression on Elbow,Ryan Adams and James Brown, having been chosen to open for all of them. In person,though,she’s shy and diffident,but also quietly eloquent about what drives her.

You’re still only 24. That’s about the same age as most of the contestants on Pop Idol. What stopped you going in that direction?

When I was about ten I discovered my mum’s record collection - and after you first put on Physical Graffiti out of choice there’s no turning back! To go down that route you have to be really preoccupied with fame,and that’s not something which attracts me.

What does attract you?

Listening to those records,I found a place which I didn’t realise needed to be found,and once it was found I needed to express it myself.

So that was your alternative to fame. Well,to start with it was an alternative to school! But since then,yeah.

But you still want success,don’t you? That’s a weird question,and one I think about a lot. I think my idea of success is different to the common ideal of success. I’d like to get enough finances to put records out for the rest of my life; perhaps recognition drives me. Ultimately,I want to know that I’ve written a great song.

Well,you’ve written great songs. Haha!I can stop now!I can go work in

McDonald’s!

What makes Round’s songs especially great is the way she transcends the singer-songwriter musical stereotype, setting the gutwrenching intimacy of her songs to a backing quite unlike any other singer-songwriter’s:screwing with structure,arrangement,and melody, veering off at oblique tangents,exploring the twists of musicianship which have always interested her. Comparisons to Jeff Buckley and Kate Bush would be closer than most,but at the same time completely wrong.

Where did this sense of adventure come from?

On my first album [The First Blood Mystery,2001] especially,Ihad so much to say that the voice and the lyrics just weren’t enough,it had to be musical as well.

Your new album’s out on October 13. Tell us about it,then.

I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past two years,and it’s more about what I’ve learnt than what I want to moan about.

I’m not a tormented soul really! The title [The Disconnection] refers to disconnecting myself from the confusion and turmoil

of the past - Ithink being unable to do that is often the biggest problem in our lives.

Carina Round isn’t someone a mere interview can do justice to; after hearing her music,further words are in many ways redundant. She’s frustrated with the constant (and erroneous) comparisons with PJHarvey by (usually male) rock hacks who can’t see past gender; she’s currently loving Rufus Wainwright and Eminem; really,she’s a lot of fun to be around. This is as relevant as you want it to be; ultimately,all that needs to be reiterated is just how stellar her talent is.

Carina Round, Cardiff Barfly, 27/9/03 Portraits by Anastasia Nylund

Travel

How do you eat yours?

By Tim Clark, Travel Ed.

There is nothing better than grown men throwing tomatoes at each other,and it’s not everyday that you go off and try and find the world’s biggest food fight. Armed with a crushing hangover from the night before,me and my accomplice Ed arrived in Bunol town square at 10am - and it was already packed.

40,000 people squeezed and crowd surfed themselves into one long main street of a small town in the middle of Spain. The Spanish are,it has to be said,completely crazy. I don’t think I know of any other culture which would approach this so enthusiastically. Trying to get into the spirit of the thing we had painted ourselves blue,and found that we had become a prime target for water bottles and wet t-shirts to be hurled our way from every direction. It sounds stupid but even though it’s called a food fight both of us overlooked the ‘fight’ part of it. Suddenly we were out of our depth,so to speak; running round painted blue we were hugging and face painting everyone else in sight,and found ourselves right in the thick of it. I turned around to find a face full of water from the hose cannons that were set up in the street.

The tomatoes arrived and were paraded through town inside a dozen or so juggernaut trucks - a hundred tonnes of them. Somehow space was made to get them through and once in place they were unleashed. After two hours of

being hosed down the frenzy began. Suddenly we didn’t know who was doing what to anybody anywhere. Confused? Great,we were. If we looked up all we could see was a flurry of red spinning past,and chunks landing then dribbling down our heads.

I looked over at Ed: he was covered in red and trying as hard as he could to hit a kid with a crash helmet who was positioned on top of a phone box. As for me,I looked right and got tomato in the eye - but I caught who’d thrown it. In my head I went ‘YES!’: I had found my target. For an hour this bald guy and I would appear from the midst of the crowd and duel with any piece of fruit or t-shirt we could get our hands on,then duck behind any other fool for cover. I hope you get an idea of the absolute chaos that the Tomatina was.

Uni hall canteen, just think of the possibilities

The sensation was very,very strange. I recommend that anyone do it, but it’s not exactly a Vidal Sassoon moment. Once the Tomatina finished we needed a few good showers and a well deserved pint before passing out and catching the flu for a week: definitely the best way to get over a hangover.

What you need to know

Ed managed to get a great shot on the kid on the phone box,and we both found ourselves standing in foot deep tomato soup. I said,"Ed,Ed,I can’t take it anymore",and with the best ever fake Hollywood death scene (Cardiff lad dies in tomato shock terror: parents say he preferred bananas) I fell backwards and lay down in it.

* OK: first off, don’t go without some damn good shoes. I went in sandals and my feet were pasted by the fattest guy with a food fetish I have ever seen

* The Tomatina is free to everyone, just turn up and throw fruit

* The date of the Tomatina can change, but it is always held on the last Wednesday of August.

* If you want to get especially pasted then dress like an American tourist: loads of hats and cameras. Or you could paint yourself blue like we did.

* In Bunol there is little chance of finding a place to stay. Valencia though is a short train ride away, and has all the facilities of a large city.

* If you’re hanging around then stay for the fireworks that night. You have to see it to believe it, trust me.

Benicassim 2003

Bollocks to sitting in a tent in Wiltshire waiting for the rain to stop! Adam Brooks and Tim Clark went off to Spain to search for the meaning of life and a festival with communal showers

The facts are these: Brian Molko from Placebo has just burst into my toilet cubicle. It has been three hours since myself and my compadré Tim snuck into the artists’ backstage area at this year’s Benicassim festival.It will be another two-and-a-half before we are,as they say in the biz,“forcibly ejected” by security.

For one month a year Benicassim is home of one of Europe’s most exciting festivals,opening its doors to the likes of Blur,Beck,Travis,Super Furry Animals (represent!) and 30,000 of their closest friends.

With temperatures in the high nineties,a mosh was out of the question. And if “Thou shalt have mellow grooves” is the first commandment of Benicassim,“Thou shalt have better facilities than Britain’s pissy festivals” must be the second.

From the staggered late night stage times (starting at sunset,winding up at 6am) to the Star Wars-esque minty fresh portaloos,the likes of Glasto and Reading could certainly benefit from several of Benicassim’s organisation tips. As the doors opened on day one,we had already wound our way through the main arena (lots of milling about,three quid a pint) through our designated press area (pokey, pound a pint) into the artists’ area (swimming

pool,free bar,jackpot!) and found a chirpy Beth Orton paddling alongside a sweaty Badly Drawn Boy. Despite the sweltering temperatures,he was taking his hat off for no one. Highlight of the first evening was a Coxon-less Blur rolling out Girls And Boys to an audience 90% unaware of the tacky Spanish holiday sentiment. Also playing on the Friday were Placebo,who put on a marginally better performance on stage than their singer had in the press conference earlier that day.

Having a few hours to kill on day two,Tim and I decided to give a bit back and became temporary employees of Oxfam’s Spanish wing. Armed with flyers for a charity footie match and fetching neongreen bibs,we took some time out to chat to the locals,with the typical “conversation” limited to singing DJ Otzi songs and some basic toilet humour. Later that evening, Travis cracked open some new material,with the hilariously titled anti-war anthem Peace The Fuck Out and new single ReOffender

Earlier we’d tried to catch the enigmatic Love Of Lesbian based on name alone,but abandoned the plan once our programme showed what looked like a

Kings Of Leon family portrait. Headliner Beck’s crayzee dancing did little to revive us as we continued our transformation into the Englishmen abroad stereotypepatchy Spanish,sunburn,beards and lager.

Day three proved to be a bit of a highlight,with Tim chatting to the head of Oxfam Spain while I had a chinwag with shiny-headed chillout king Moby. We came away from these conversations with two major conclusions. One,international trade laws are a bitch. Two,Moby thinks all the naked shots of him in circulation have scuppered his chances of a career in politics. Meanwhile,the Super Furries pushed the language frontiers even further than normal as the sun went down when they became the only British band to talk to the crowd in their own language.

Treating us to a large chunk of Phantom Power and ending with the techno breakdown of The Man Don’t Give A Fuck,they left Moby with a hard act to follow. To his credit,ol’ Baldy did himself proud,turning out a performance that matched the panoramic landscape and gorgeous weather perfectly. Over on the Motorola Stage,2 Many DJs were busy fusing Nirvana’s Lithium to breakbeat and working The White Stripes into vintage Salt‘n’Pepa.

As 5am rolled around I was ready to crash,leaving Tim to fulfill his weekend’s ambition of climbing the Benicassim mountain in time to see the sun rise on one of the most diverse, well-organised, upbeat festivals Europe has ever seen.

Moby:he can get stomped by Obie

exclusive music and interviews from Blur, Beth Orton and Placebo listen out for Xpress Radio at the Festivals: Benicassim, coming soon on Xpress Radio

Gay

Satan wears pink spandex

Is the Church homophobic? Quench investigates

By Ian Loynd

Although not accepted by all factions of society,homosexuality is now tolerated in the main. However,the Christian Church remains one of the biggest advocates of homophobia today. Indeed,it openly promotes homophobia in its teachings.

The Church is confused and afraid. It is confused as its hatred of gays and lesbians contradicts other fundamental beliefs of love and acceptance. It is afraid as division spreads aggressively through its members.

“The Church is confused and afraid”

Christian views of homosexuals add to its outdated image and the traditionalism of many teachings leave the Church by the wayside as society evolves.

Christian fear and confusion has been embarrassingly demonstrated in recent months. In the UK,Jeffrey John was forced to stand down as Bishop of Reading for fear of dividing the Church in Britain. His crime? Being openly gay. One of the Church’s most venerable members,himself the victim of his religion’s struggle to accept his way of life.

In August,the American Episcopal (Anglican) Church saw the appointment of its first gay bishop. Gene Robinson,

“

Bishop of New Hampshire,has been at the centre of huge controversy amongst Christians world-wide ever since.

In addition to being a deviant,sorry homosexual,he is also non-celibate (the horror!). Whilst his straight counterparts blissfully attend village coffee mornings with their wives and children,Bishop Robinson is persecuted for pursuing a gay relationship.

While this is clearly ludicrous,I can begin to understand such beliefs from God-fearing Christians who have perhaps never met a gay person. Ignorance,as they say,is bliss. But how can such intolerance be allowed in western society today?

Fundamentalists would have you believe that our deviant lifestyle leads to abuse, unhappiness and paedophilia,shaking the foundations of our oh-so-happy Christian society. And,indeed,while such sex crimes endanger each of us,they are simply not traits of homosexuality. Get real; any such abuse is illegal and immoral and is no more accepted by gay people than straight.

Thankfully,such extreme beliefs are a dying breed. Many - perhaps mostChristians do not feel that being gay is in any way wrong or unchristian. Even those who are uncomfortable with homosexuality adopt an "I don’t agree with it but I accept it" policy. Fair play. I am sure that Christian views will adapt to our changing society and have faith that gay Christians will one day be welcomed as equal in the Church. I turn to the Good Book itself to reassure you that being gay and Christian is possible:

”

Shoes galore!

Fat,thin,young or old:accessories maketh the

woman,according to Caroline Ellis

This season,it’s all about bags and shoes. One thing's for sure: you’re going to need a pair of killer heels and a great bag. Once you've got these, anything goes. A key look to achieve the ultimate in ladylike chic this autumn is the 80s return of matching accessories. A bright bag and shoes will add an extra spark to any plain outfit. Accessories offer such an instant fashion fix at the start of the autumn and they provide a less costly way to buy into a look. For students whose bank balances have suffered as a result of freshers’ week,you can still get the key looks into your wardrobe. You don't have to go into the overdraft too much by shopping cheap in places like H&M and New Look,who have left their old bargain basement image and now have a series of fresh designer link-ups for clothes. You should also upscale on accessories. Topshop's brand of 'Freedom' jewellery offer a fantastic and reasonably priced range to go with whatever look you want to achieve this season. Don’t be scared to put your best foot forward this season with an array of sexy shoe styles and bright colours:the brighter and pointier the better.

Good news too for ladies who love to wear short skirts all year round. Team them up with a pair of bright tights to achieve a must have look this season. Now,you have absolutely no excuse to suffer freezing your legs off when walking home from St Mary’s Street or the union on cold autumn nights.

To acquire the season’s sophisticated look of glamour,go back to the decade of postwar freedom and go for 40s chic. The fab and flirty 40s look is,quite simply,all

Top five shoe shops in Cardiff

La ScarpaItalian Shoes (Mackintosh Place, Roath) Perfect for smart and sleek footwear

Eccentrix (in the High Street Arcade at the St John’s entrance) For great budget party shoes and sexy knee-highs

Buzz and Co (High Street Arcade) Not only has awesome urban trainers but sexy heels and funky flats to boot

Schuh (Queen Street) A fantastic array of all shoes in different styles, shapes and colours

Faith (St David’s Arcade) An old favourite, still producing the best in high street shoes.

about the shoes. Grab yourself some great T-bar shoes or some Follies-style heels for autumn 2003. And to really glam it up,add a fake fur shawl to get the ultimate in 40s sexy party wear.

This season Topshop is the best for trends and bright coloured clothes,while H&M is the finest for cheap chic. Jigsaw gives superlative vintage inspiration and you won’t be able to beat Warehouse for those party dresses and tops perfectly styled for Saturday night at comeplay

By Rhys James, Features Ed.

OK,so I admit it. When I was first sent out to find out about the SRT (Standby Rescue Tug) Golden Cross in staying in Cardiff Bay for another paper,I wasn’t entirely enthused. Growing up in the Beacons,what interest could a small boat - admittedly old,but hardly antiquehold for me,or indeed any readers?

So,should you be starting to read this feature with a certain lack of gusto,be assured that you have my understanding; I hope that you can bear with me,as things will yet improve.

The SRT Golden Cross itself does have some unique elements. I am no engineering historian,but I know that some people do get quite worked up when informed that the Cross was,when laid down in 1953,Europe’s first “dieselgeared” tug.

Equally,that she is still powered by her original diesel engine,the world’s last running example of a Crossley of Manchester four-cylinder two-stroke 882hp CGL unit. A big green engine it is too: I have seen it,and it is,true enough,impressively large,in a kind of efficiently greasy kind of way.

Tug-spotters (yes,believe me,they do exist) would no doubt fill the peopleshaped holes in their lives with rapture to learn that this engine is still connected to a prototype MWD/Hindmarsh 2:1 reduction gearbox. To you I am sure,as it was to me,this is heading into serious anorak and thermos territory,and may well make this boat a rather well maintained novelty,but probably little more.

The Cross has not always found itself in its enviable condition,however; perhaps it is its active history that gives the boat a special attraction?

It was built on the Clyde,ordered by Sir William Crosthwaite,owner of the Tees Towing Company (The Cross Fleet). The purpose of this order was to allow the newly built official Royal Yacht,HM Yacht Britannia,to be assisted,accompanied and complemented by an equally official tug boat,on both its and the newly crowned Queen Elizabeth’s maiden state voyage.

This official partnership remained in place until 1997,when the Cross served as the sole Official Escort to the Britannia on its Farewell Voyage prior to its decommission. She was also involved in the funeral of Diana,Princess of

All ship sh

Wales. These closures in Princess Diana’s and the Britannia’s histories were,ironically,to mark the re-emergence of the Golden Cross into a new chapter of active life.

During these fifty years the Golden Cross worked with many famous ships, including HMS Ark Royal and HMS Achilles,at naval bases around the UK.

It is as a standby rescue tug,on call to ocean emergencies,that the history of the Golden Cross becomes more colourful. During her lifetime,much of it in recent years,this tug has saved three oil rigs,60 ships and over 300 lives, often in adverse conditions.

During the 1960s she was renamed Dunheron and registered in Newport, becoming a familiar sight working in the Bristol Channel.

This Welsh registration remained in place until 1996,when she was discovered abandoned,virtually sunk and

decaying,in Portsmouth.

There,in August 1996,Oriental actress Suzie Wong and Captain Stuart White rescued her. She was re-registered under her original name,and a campaign of restoration was begun.

Volunteers from the Merchant Navy, RNLI,RAF Rescue Service U.S.N. and other organisations arrived to lend their time and expertise,and helped to restore the SRT Golden Cross to her present admirable condition.

Even today,Suzie and Captain White’s crew consists of volunteers. It is following this restoration that the Golden Cross received the invitation from Buckingham Palace,and emerged to attend the 1997 royal events.

In the last four years,the Golden Cross has steamed over 10,000 miles to over 100 ports,motivating interest, exhibiting her history and unique maritime status.

For,you see,the priceless value of the Golden Cross exists not in its engineering,not in its steel,diesel bolts and or repainted hull.

These are things of mere cold metal, and must carry with them an engineering individuality of the extreme,such as a Brunel ship,to be of any worth.

Neither is it the history of the ship. Sir Crosthwaite’s firm does not continue to have any further relevance to us here and many would argue that even the ship’s royal connection does not imbue it with any significance in this age.

It is the humanity that impregnates the base material of the Golden Cross that gives it its draw. This humanity is an ongoing aspect.

Aside from stories of the Crosthwaite family,of those folk who worked on the ship and of the seafarers and rig workers who owe their lives to the tug,it is contained in the ships current crew, Captain White and Suzie Wong,and those who visit the ship.

Standing justifiably proud and tall, defiant of his inapparent years,Captain White is always to be found in naval uniform,wearing a moustache Windsor Davies would be proud of.

The Captain’s maritime life emanates pleasantly from him,to the degree that you half expect to salt cascading from his pores. That he does not feel the obligation to smoke a pipe is surprising; less surprising is that his example has inspired his own son into a naval career.

Meeting the Captain is always sure to be a pleasure. If you were to add together the entire storytelling experience and ability of every Jackanory presenter,you would still remain unable to match this gentleman’s ability to tell a tale. Certainly, 1,001 Arabian Nights would

require a sequel in the hands of his authorship.

Similarly,an encounter with Suzie Wong is guaranteed to enchant. Inexorably friendly and refreshing, Suzie’s appearance also leaves you entirely clueless to her true years.

No where is the endearing nature of the ship’s crew encapsulated in the behaviour of the ship’s rescue dog, Radar,who unfortunately died earlier this year.

Responsible for heroically saving the lives of seamen,in horrendous conditions,Radar was also court marshalled during his short career. His crime? For defecating on the hull of the British Navy,the nuclear submarine Trident,during parade. His punishment? Withdrawal of sausage rations for the day.

Every visitor has added to this humanity of the Golden Cross,as they have crossed its deck. This truth was emphasised to me,and gave me great pride when I was able to witness the Captain meeting several visitors,and finding my own part now included into this anecdotal heritage.

For these reasons,the sheer weight of humanity,heritage and hilarious and fascinating anecdotes,I would encourage you to visit the Golden Cross whilst you still can.

It remains moored on a pontoon at the end of the Roald Dahl’s Plass,formerly known as the Oval Basin,until the end of October,whereupon it will cross the Bay to Penarth.

It is this,through an invitation from Cardiff International Sports Village,that brought the tug to Cardiff Bay last year and began what looks like will be a long term association between the boat and the local coastline.

Since then,tens of thousands of people have visited the vessel. Parties such as those from Graig-y-Parc School, for children with cerebral palsy,have been able to take advantage of the ship’s wheelchair access.

The dramatic picture of the Sea King helicopter hovering above the boat was taken last week,staged during a visit by children from the Ty Hafen Hospice.

On the surface,then,a rather pleasingly quaint story of noble beginnings lost,and rebirth from the ashes. If you’ve been so kind as to stay with me this long,you may well be questioning my enlivened enthusiasm for this boat.

Mixed reaction

THE CHEMICAL BROTHERS

Singles 93-03

Virgin

We already knew that the Chemical Brothers are among the most popular dance acts. This collection, however,reveals why they won’t be remembered as truly innovative. The Chemicals create tracks that

THE AFTERNOONS

My Lost City FF Vinyl

One can only assume that My Lost City's opening line"Fuck the past/It's overrated” - is an ironic one. This album sounds like a brief history of sweet guitar music from the mid-60s through the Super Furries' mellower tunes to The Polyphonic Spree. Perhaps it's just too deceptively cold today to fully appreciate such a summery album. Morwenna Kearns

Do You Imagine Things?

Regal

Just imagine if someone answered "NO!" to their enquiry! This set illuminates if not elucidates the reasons for Alfie's presence in the world. Forthcoming single Stuntman rocks politely and the trombones on first release People cement the feeling that this is a band worth staring at the clouds to. Rob Telford

are memorable rather then moving,and not enough of them are classics. What’s more,if they’d stuck to dirty, pounding pop gems like the masterfully produced Block Rockin’Beats then this retrospective would be a more consistent listen. Out Of Control is idiosyncratic and generally very cool indeed, one of several tracks that naturally aim for higher

BOGGS

Stitches City Rockers

What a fucking great way to start an album. Enormous dirty drums appear from afar and stampede towards the speakers,building the sense of anticipation for nearly a minute until the song kicks in… What follows is half an hour of badly recorded,amateurish, Deliverance hillbilly bullshit. Mat C

Talkin’ Honky Blues

WEA

The genius that is Buck 65 brings us another eighteen slices of frazzled,original music. The idea of combining blues,country music and hip-

things,and while these have dated better than the floorfillers they sound out of place on a singles collection. The Private Psychedelic Reel is exactly what you’d want to hear if you slipped into a time warp and fell into a future cityscape,y’know with flying cars and shit. But that’s a way away from superstar DJs shouting “here we go!”.

may sound somewhat bizarre but it makes perfect sense as he rasps out his grimy tales of everyday life.

Maria Thomas

CABARET VOLTAIRE

Methodology:The Attic

Tapes 1974-1977

Mute

More often than not,you can equate the word "seminal" with the word "shite"Beefheart,Zappa,and without hesitation you can add CV to the melting pot. Arguably pioneers of electronic music,this is the sort of "before the fame" nonsense box-set you can’t even imagine completists getting excited about. There are no tunes,no rhythms,no talent, no fun and basically no quality. John Widdop

They’ve forgotten which flat is theirs again.

Lost Sides

Heavenly

Demonstrating with flair how exactly to use the b-side,this is a compilation of some of the hairy Mancunians’ best flipside moments. Stretching across their reasonably brief career,the album picks from 1998’s Cedar EP right through to Northendon, Pounding’s b-side. At times experimental but still beguiling, Lost Sides is well worth the tenner it’ll cost you.

Rob

J

Gallowsbird’s Bark

Rough Trade

The White Stripes? Pchuh! Surnameless siblings Eleanor and Matt take the family weirdness to stratospheric levels,though the insanity is sonic rather than superficial. Cascades of piano,chunky power chords and lyrical eccentricity are all to be found here,and very good they are too. Alex Macpherson

Bring Me The Head Of Freq Nasty Skint

A good all round dance album with a nice variety of songs and some great tracks. Obvious influences include The Propellerheads, Moby,So Solid Crew and Mr Oizo. If you want a generally pleasing set to drive to look no further; for originality,however,look elsewhere.

Elgan Iorwerth

The Young Machines Mush

Hallelujah! This is that rarest of things: a lovely,melodic, uplifting IDM/dream-pop record,with songs about selfhatred,adulterous love and

hop

Alfie:

Chewie

grandmothers "dying in a painful way". Eels-like in places,HSH smirks at his own emotional sincerity but when he drops his guard it's often astonishingly beautiful.

Cassidy Phillips

Thank You

Parlophone

Despite screaming crap R&Bpop,with its luscious funky beats and Jamelia's soothing voice this album actually begins quite promisingly. However the novelty begins to wear off about halfway through as it all starts sounding disappointingly familiar,and by the end you're you're vowing just to listen to daytime Radio 1 in future.

Sheath Warp

His first new material in seven years, sees Björk collaborator Mark Bell blasting away the competition in a barrage of low frequency oscillations. Single Freak instant hands-in-theair classic whilst the more mellow tracks are perfect for after hours enjoyment. Electronic production at its very best.

Andy Parsons

Another Day EMI

More Jewel-lite (and just how lite is that?) strumming from a Dawson’s Creek soundtrack staple; Lene Marlin is still innocuously bland,and possibly the kindest thing which could be said about her album is that it’s not actively annoying as background sound. Alex Macpherson

MOUNTAINEERS

Messy Century Mute

Occasionally a band comes along that breaks new ground,not by being "experimental" pretentious-wankmongers,but simply by minding whether they're conventional or not. Such is the case here. Pop,rock,psychedelia and vintage electronics are squashed into a sort of

Top tips Albums 17

Dear Catastrophy

Waitress

Rough Trade

Mentioning Phil Spector’s name at the moment maybe unadvisable but his influence is unquestionably apparent in opener Step Into My Office,Baby. You are greeted by grand orchestration that nods to the ‘wall of sound’ and suggests a liking for ELO.

Fabric 12:The Amalgamation Of Soundz Fabric

The mix starts off disappointingly like one of those bland Ibiza chillout albums which graces every dinner party,but it subtly ups the tempo and before you know it you’re nodding along to a mixture of breakbeat and deep house. Another worthy addition to the Fabric series.

Gary Andrews

Producer Trevor Horn has helped beautifully display B&S’s pop side,no more so than on I’m A Cuckoo which you just can’t resist dancing along to. But then pop music is easy,and Sebastian are better than that which is why they give us the sad tale of Lord Anthony. Slow moving strings accompany a story that would be perfect as a Channel Five TV movie. Anthony Lloyd

YosepH Warp

Master of pseudonyms Vibert brings us 13 tracks of high strength acid house in his own inimitable style. From the Chic meets Phuture soundclash of Acidisco to worshipping the 303 on I Love Acid, YosepH is a timely reminder of the good old days while breathing new life into a style of music that changed a generation. Now where did I leave my white gloves? Andy Parsons

VARIOUS

LUKE VIBERT

BELLE &SEBASTIAN

Jamelia: Bringing Dennis the Menace chic into the 21st century

Singles

You Got The Style Parlophone

Mercury Prize nominees trot out sacrilegious re-release in attempt to prove that a chunky bassline and a singalong chorus equals pay-dirt. On the wireless,in the summer,stuck in head.

Rob Telford

Eradicate The Doubt Beggars Banquet

Doubtless (arf!) this song sounds great when you're in a sweaty venue,but it's actually just more calculated quiet-loud faux rawness. Buy if you want live tracks,though.

Rob Telford

Secret Kiss Deltasonic

The latest single from The Coral,and it sounds a lot like a lost Doors track circa 1969. Not as overtly hooky as some of their previous efforts but pretty good nonetheless. Jon Griffiths

I Believe In A Thing

Called Love

Must Destroy

You’ve all heard it. The Darkness have given us another cheeky pop-rock 7" single, with spandex,falsetto vocals and blazing guitar. A

feel-good tune,but not one you’d admit to owning.

Andrew Lightfoot

Peng

Invicta Hi-Fi

Quirky,French house music either charms the pants off me or is downright irritating. Unfortunately this cheesy nugget falls straight into the latter category. Daft Punk’s Around The World as performed by Bertha. Andy Parsons

Problem Is Distinctive

You've heard the Specials' Ghost Town,right? I loved that when I was about 10,and - joy - here's a song that sounds just like it! Unfortunately,I'm not 10 anymore. Too late, guys.

Cassidy Phillips

Darts of Pleasure

Domino

Those promiscuous darlings in the music press are like freshers with their new lovers every week. Today its these laconic jocks,who rock the same rock as every other NYC-styled band,albeit with more Blondie and a nice line in Germanic chanting. Very ‘this week’.

Mat C

Funeral For A Friend: The beardy one could never get that ‘look at the camera’ thing right

Inertiatic ESP

Universal Bands as ambitious,innovative and unapologetically progressive as the Mars Volta only have a limited lifespan before they implode under the weight of their own expectations. Cherish them before they disappear forever. Chris Brown

She Drove Me To Daytime TV/Bullet Theory

Infectious Records

The hotly tipped Welsh quintet’s new double A-side release. She Drove Me.../Bullet Theory is a delicous slice of emo-rock mixing brutal guitars with harmonious vocals. Fantastic.

Matt Aplin

12:51

Rough Trade

12:51 sees The Strokes treading water as a mildly catchy melody is ruined by terrible lyrics. Simplistic and lacking either the charm of Is This It or

the talent of neighbours Interpol,they’ll have to try much harder if they’re going to rise above their hype. Andy Parsons

Re-Offender

Independiente

It’s just soooo good to hear the sobbing vocals of Fran Healy again. Re-Offender is their finest effort yet. Purer pop than a Swedish songwriting convention,it’s the most layered,accomplished sound they’ve ever squeezed out. More heart than a butcher’s bin. Jamie Fullerton

TURINBRAKES

5 Mile (These Are The Days)

Source

Disappointingly not an acoustic take on 8 Mile,this is pleasant but bland new material from the gentle duo. Less 70s MOR and more heartbroken bedsit blues next time please boys. Andy Parsons

Cooper’s Field,Cardiff

By Jamie Fullerton, Music Ed.

15,000 teenage freeloaders,30°C, seven chart acts,One Very,Very,Very Big Sunday. And despite the scalp-scab inducing heat some smart Alec thought they’d hold it in a big black tent. So it’s up to The Thrills to burn a few holes in it to let the sun inside. Armed with their Travis-in-sunglasses Americana,solarbloated singles like Big Sur and One Horse Town do the trick nicely. They’ll be bracing themselves for the skin cancer lawsuits forthcoming. Scorching. No such sunny moments from Kosheen though,just one ace dance-pop hit in Out Of My Way and Massive Attack’s least colourful turds to plug up the remaining 26 minutes.

"YOU’RE REALLY GROWING ON MEEEEEE-HEEEEEEEE!" Eyes forward again,that banshee in a ball-vice screech means it’s Darkness-O’-clock. And bang on time is the now familiar figure of Justin Hawkins splashing his spandex. Since Freddie Mercury sampled one bum too many we haven’t seen a more captivating frontman and in terms of phallus-rock,bangers like I Believe In A Thing Called Love,Growing On Me and Get Your Hands Off My Woman are the erm… cheesy pinnacle. But when,like here,they’re diluted by so-so album tracks and b-sides it’s difficult to understand The Darkness phenomenon fully. That’s not to say the audience don’t froth up more rabidly with every crotch-tearing scissorkick.

J u s t i n t i m e !

cash off punters halfway through. Then after twenty minutes of acoustic nothingness from Dido,butch oddball/attitude soaked fitty (depending on the camera angle) Pink fails miserable to get the party started with a half arsed poke at erm… Get The Party Started and useless newy Trouble (someone in a suit really should be fired for writing it) then recovers spectacularly with heel-mullering stomper Just Like A Pill and the some-

“Since Freddie Mercury sampled one bum too many we haven’t seen a more captivating frontman than Justin Hawkins”

A quick half-hour journey to the complete polar opposite of Justin and co’s firecracking spectacle are extremely pleasant songsmiths Starsailor. They’d hardly seem an inspired choice to follow the previous crowd-fellatio supremos but the nice young chaps jack up the Buckley-beating melodies and charm the y-fronts off a still reeling crowd. Good Souls is the song of the day so far,more epic than any Queen tribute act could ever be,and it can’t even be spoiled by some c—t from the RSPCWhatever trying to jostle

Three’s company:The Webb Brothers

how-now-great Don’t Let Me Get Me. She buggers off after 25 minutes,but she’s an unphotocopyable ace-card. Pink won’t go down in history,but she’ll make the archives a damn sight more colourful.

It’s been a long while since we last heard from Travis,and in a time when it’s either New York pimple magnets or ageing cock-rockers who grab the headlines the question has to be asked: do we really need them back? [Or indeed in the first place - Ed.] The wordless

answer is set opener Sing,reminding everyone what the real singalong of the day is. The lads relish their return; Fran Healy barely contains his boyish beam while his trademark fragility is as transparent as ever. During Writing To Reach You he’s so torn between his joy of playing and hazy visions of past insecurity he almost cracks in two. Travis are a band who just get better and better. Early material re-hashed sounds basic and clumsy (As You Are),while recent Nigel Godrich-aided flowerings bloom with layered sophistication but always with Fran’s ever relatable pub lunch poetry. New single Re-Offender is the most accomplished song they’ve ever performed,a sumptuous hors d’œuvre to the Travis of tomorrow,something we now know we’ll be able to rely on. Safe with this knowledge there’s time for the customary tear jerking shout-along Why Does It Always Rain On Me? before everyone pours outside to claim the last few rays of the day’s sun,Travis’ infamous curse unfulfilled. The sun is still shining in mid-September as we welcome back one of our nation’s most sparkling treasures. For once Mother Nature’s timing is impeccable.

Photo:Tim Alben

Great Hall,Cardiff

Reminiscent of Jeff Buckley without the vocal range or David Byrne without the charisma,Bell X1 treat us to a set of pleasant, heartache laden songs. If you need another indie fittie-by-numbers frontman singing through gritted teeth about how sometimes women are a bit mean then by all means purchase their new album. However,you’d be better off with the new Starsailor effort. Tonight’s

“Silence Is Easy and Fever send a shiver down the spine”

performance places James Walsh’s cheerful crew at the peak of their genre. Admittedly,that genre is “albums your mum might quite like”,but jubilant renditions of Silence Is Easy and Fever can’t help but send a shiver down the spine. As the haunting Good Souls rings out over the assembled thirtysomethings,there’s scarcely a dry eye in the house. With the winter closing in fast,the smiliest man in rock has thoroughly warmed our cockles tonight. Good work. Maria Thomas

Barfly,Cardiff

Having only just managed to neutralise the stench of the mud/anonymous turd cocktail that seeped into the punters of this years festivals,hasn’t everyone had quite enough of the epically swooning Britrockers that provided their soundtrack? Well yeah,but only a dribbling fool would refuse to give Watershed a look in too. Tonight they sound as wonderfully together as ever before; it’s some kind of deadpan joke that Elbowesque sky-surfers like Still and The Search didn’t have the great unwashed filling buckets with tears of joy over the summer. Actually it’s no joke,it’s a fucking travesty.

The Electric Soft Parade concept should never have worked. Taking Definitely Maybe as year zero and looking to swiped Supergrass posters for divine inspiration never sounded like a recipe for genius,but their iron-clad sturdy songwriting has seen them through to the second album. And when they stick to their forte of muscular radio rock like Lose Yr Frown and Things I’ve Done Before they surpass their Stomposaurus ‘peers’ efforts with ease. Stripped down slowies and unfunny dialogue about getting arrested,S Club-style,from plummy beamer Tom White fall flat on their spotty arses,but when the band learn to stick to their strengths we’ll have a whip-smart Britpop band we can actually stay awake to. A notion we thought was long since fossilised. Jamie Fullerton

Barfly,Cardiff

Not a particularly well chosen moniker as the Adequate 7 are more than their name suggests. Imagine At The Drive-In playing 70s cop themes with a brass section and you’re some way there. Veterans of the south Wales scene Douglas still bash out the same stuff they were playing 4 years ago. Thankfully it’s now interspersed with some new material and,praise be,even a fucking hook. It’s about time and tonight Douglas hit form with B Is The New Way. Opening somewhat confusingly with DJ Shadow’s Building Steam With A Grain Of Sand it’s not long before the second and fourth note become prominent. Bad dreadlocks and BO-favouring vests amass both on stage in the form of the band and in front of it in the form of the fans,and quite possibly outside

flogging the Big Issue. Mixing ska-core with elements of drum’n’bass, Capdown release a hectic and driving performance. We’re witnessing political anti-fashion performed for a Barfly full of children and you can’t help but wonder how many realise the significance of the words "capitalist downfall". Still once they’ve grown up and fucked off we’ll still love Capdown.

Richard Samuels

GUIDED BY VOICES/TRAMP ATTACK

ClwbIfor Bach,Cardiff

"Fuck the whales. Save rock 'n' roll!" proclaims frontman Robert Pollard before launching into the half-hour long "greatest encore in the world" to top off a constantly entertaining two hour main set. Proceedings are kicked off by lively support Tramp Attack's 30 minutes of ballsy psychedelic folk pop, their sense of humour and Coral-esque style keeping a smile on everyone's faces. As GBV walk on, both band and audience start loud and complement each other throughout. Aided by copious amounts of Budweiser (as opposed to our "Bull's Piss") and the audience's cigarettes, Pollard is on fine form vocally and banter-wise, whilst dancing manically and twirling the mic with expertise. The fifty-odd songs played are all unmistakably GBV, but each one sounds fresh and individual, so after 150 minutes

MOUNTAINEERS/CARINA ROUND

Barfly,Cardiff

It would be hard to find two more incongruous acts at one gig. Carina Round takes the stage like a woman possessed,hair flailing and guitar blazing: her songs are intense,cathartic blasts of art-rock which tear mercilessly at the emotional jugular, but also fascinatingly intricate studies in dynamics and texture. Propulsive,pounding rhythms battle muddy, bluesy guitars for supremacy,while above it all Round’s breathtaking voice swoops,soars,howls and purrs. She closes with a captivating,bug-eyed segue into The Stooges’ I ,a fittingly jaw-dropping ending to a passionate,thrilling performance. Mountaineers,meanwhile, may boast undeniably pretty tunes and, in Ceri James,possibly the best-looking keyboardist the Barfly has ever seen, but their nondescript schmindie-pluselectronica sound is rendered even more underwhelming following the magnitude of Round’s set. They’re at their most interesting when they loosen their indie-boy shackles and fully indulge their dance instincts,but this happens

Alex Macpherson

Peak practice:Mountaineers

Guided By Voices: Kickass

Photo: Gemma Griffiths

Photos:Andy Lightfoot

Capital of culture

Now you’re in a capital city,why not take full advantage of what its arts scene has to offer?

By Rachel Pegum, Arts Ed.

Whether you want to stay in the centre of Cardiff or whether you’d prefer to travel a bit further afield the arts scene is in full swing over the coming months.

In the centre of Cardiff’s student area,just behind the union,lies the Sherman Theatre. Boasting a variety of productions while still being very local

the Sherman is the perfect place to go if you fancy a bit of culture right on your doorstep.

Comedian Rhona Cameron visits the theatre as part of her national tour on Friday October 17. Promising to be a witty night of entertainment it’s bound to be popular so I’d recommend that you sort out your tickets quickly. The Sherman’s box office number is 02920 646900.

Dylan Thomas’ house: The New Theatre celebrates one the greats

New Theatre,new season

If you fancy heading further into town then why not take a look at the New Theatre’s line of productions this Autumn. To coincide with the 50th anniversary of the death of the Welsh literary great,Dylan Thomas,the theatre is staging a production of his best known work, Under Milk Wood. This high profile production is set to be unmissable. It’s showing from October 21-25.

Can you tell what it is yet?

The following week sees the dramatic musical production of the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. With music by Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyrics by Tim Rice this will be great if you like your theatre to have some recognisable,catchy tunes. It’s showing from October 28 to November 1.

Looking a bit further ahead,Eve

And if you fancy going a bit further out of the centre...

What’s on at the New Theatre...

Ensler’s ever popular Vagina Monologues comes to the stage in midOctober. If you missed last year’s Cardiff University production then this is the next best thing! Tickets for all of these productions are available from the box office on 02920 878889.

Pen art

As well as the production of Under Milk Wood,the tribute to Dylan Thomas continues with an exhibition of prints based on his poem “When The October Wind”. They’re showing at the Washington Gallery in Penarth from October 24 to November 16. It’s a bit out of the centre but well worth a visit if you’re interested. For more details,ring the gallery on 02920 712100.

So if you’re going to Penarth,you may as well take the opportunity to see the city of Cardiff in a different light at the

same time. German artist Thomas Kellner is exhibiting his ongoing project, looking at different landmarks and views of the city. There’s a very strong cubist influence to the works so you’d be surprised at how different everything looks. The exhibition,called Ozymandias,runs at the Turner House Gallery until November 9.

“I’ve got Mace in this handbag...”

Photos:Maria Thomas

As Morrissey once crooned,“there’s more to life than books,but not much more.”So in that miserable spirit,welcome to the Quench books page!

HOW TO PULL GIRLS

Julia Bruni Vermillion

“You’re successful and funny.Girls love you.But you’re still single.”

Does this statement remind you of anyone? An unfortunate friend perhaps,a hapless sibling,or maybe even yourself? Well,you don’t have to cry yourself to sleep at night

with only Radio Four for company anymore because help is at hand! This book offers a complete “insider’s guide to success with women”. Not convinced? No, neither were we. We couldn’t advise our trusted readership to part with seven quid for a book which may potentially be a big pile of tosh. There was only one thing for it - a practical test. All we had to do was follow all of the vaguely dubious advice contained within this bible of seduction and see if it resulted in red hot love. Enter Jamie Fullerton,a Cardiff bachelor with all his own teeth,adequate personal hygiene and an encyclopaedic knowledge of indie music. What female

could resist?

As Jamie intrepidly strides out into a balmy September evening,we discover that finding a good pulling environment is imperative to his success. Bruni says, “don’t go to a place with a reputation for being a meat market”; bearing this in mind,why we end up in the Students’ Union is anyone’s guess. The Taf just about meets Bruni’s location prerequisites. It’s modern,large,has enough tables to sit down at and,ahem,offers a good selection of wine. Apparently,a man should impress the young ladies by learning to navigate a wine list,but red or white screw top will have to suffice tonight.

Sadly it happens to be manly sport night in the Taf which means that the male: female ratio stands at approximately 10:1. Even the bemused freshers seem to be keeping their distance from our courageous guinea pig. Bruni stresses the importance of “making a fuss” of the fairer sex. However,after a flurry of cigarette lighting,door holding and attempted drink buying,Jamie still doesn’t have so much as a phone number to show for his efforts. As the Dutch courage flows,we begin to realise how bonkers this book actually is. It contains advice which would only be surprising to someone who has never even seen a woman before. For the love of God,men do not need to be told that “can I touch your breast please?” is not a question likely to coerce a woman into marriage. The book also offers tips which literally have no grounding in reality. For example,the idea that admiring a handbag will form a unique bond between you and a girl is not far off demented. [Well it works for me.Oh, that kind of bond - Ed.]

Apparently,girls would rather be approached by two friends. Jamie selects David,who spills an entire pint of beer over his target as he extends his hand to introduce himself. Oh,the shame! He quietly skulks away leaving our bachelor with a beautiful brunette and a head full of jumbled advice. He smiles politely,maintains eye contact,is sure not to invade her ‘intimate zone’ and emerges triumphantly with her telephone number. However,his success is probably more to do with the fact that he has social skills rather than Bruni’s bizarre wisdom. Still,if I have to buy a new hat soon I’ll be thanking her.

Maria Thomas

Books

FRANKIE SAYS RELAPSE

Siobhan Curham Coronet

At a time when you can’t set foot in Topshop without being blinded by a barrage of stripy neon items,and when pop music is so confused it’s eating itself and then recycling its own lukewarm vomit, Frankie Says Relapse is riding on a wave of 80s revival mania. Outlining the narrator’s discontentment with her suburban life of organic tofu and detoxing husbands, Curham plunges us back into the long hot summer of 1984,as her likeable heroine Caitlin embroils herself in industrial unrest in an attempt to secure a real man. The novel contains some of the best one-liners you’ll read all year,a particular favourite being “I can’t believe the rumours that he’s gay – with his leather vest top and clipped moustache he seems all man to me” in reference to a member of Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

So,despite its cynical 80s bandwagon jumping and atrocious punning title, Frankie… is a genuinely engaging and entertaining read. It is a celebration of the friends you’ve had for so long you can’t remember,and an affirmation that even though you’ve left your teenage years behind,you’re still essentially the same people you were in those hazy summer days of smoking B&H,wearing badly applied eye makeup,worrying about losing your virginities and raiding your parent’s spirit cabinets. And even

As the theme tune to a children’s television programme once famously stated,why don’t you… switch off your TV set and do something less boring instead? Like writing for the books page! Come on kids,you know that Neighbours isn’t going to be any better the second time round. George Orwell once described the book reviewer as a “downtrodden,nerve wracked creature…a crushed figure in a dressing gown”. But you can prove him wrong! Fourth floor of the union, all contributions gratefully received.

though the book looks like it should’ve come free with Cosmopolitan,it carries an important message for us,the brave students of the 21st century. Don’t switch to autopilot after you finish university or you’ll wake up one day to find yourself mournfully leafing through your Northern Uproar seven inches and wondering where your life went. Maria Thomas

DR RIEMANN’S ZEROS

Dr Riemann’s hypothesis is the most puzzled over mathematical problem since Fermat’s last theorem,unsolved for 150 years. Now,though,the first person to demonstrate that the hypothesis is correct will be rewarded with a million dollar prize from the American Foundation.

Apparently Dr Reimann’s Zeros is ‘a pleasurable and painless read for anyone intrigued by numbers.’ To the mathematically minded this may be the case. To those who are not at all mathematically minded (like myself) I would urge you to keep a wide berth of this book. Sabbagh may have included “toolkits” in order for the “ordinary reader” to understand the basics without turning the novel into a textbook,but this reminded me of double mathematics last thing on a Friday afternoon: dull and incomprehensible.

Instead of describing the hypothesis in detail the prologue and much of the rest of the book is attempting to convince the reader that mathematicians are not superhuman or disconnected from the rest of society but are just like the rest of us,in the search for something akin to the truth of humanity. Sabbagh describes various mathematicians’ excitement at continued fractions,the square root of two and the Lagrange interpolation formula for polynomials (whatever that is),mathematical jokes and even whether alien mathematics would include prime numbers (Sabbagh seems to think not).

The big question I have to ask is,do maths and great literature mix? Author Lewis Carroll - a known mathematicianwrote socially aware and compounding literature,and many mathematicians use the metaphor of the landscape in describing their work. However,I don’t think this metaphor would quite fit next to the rolling dactyl of Tennyson’s poetry, and Carroll was on opium while he wrote Alice Through The Looking Glass. This aside, Dr Reimann’s Zeros has been said to “draw you along as if it were a detective thriller.” Yet Sabbagh has

attempted to wind a descriptive plot with explanations of complex mathematical theories; a detective thriller this could never make. I didn’t see any drama,excitement or great search. In fact I‘m no closer to understanding the hypothesis now than before I read the book. Other than it’s something to do with prime numbers and zeros,and a lot of caffeine. Although admittedly my near dyslexic maths prevented me from understanding every other word.

Perhaps a mathematician would read this work with joy and relish but I didn’t feel the book gripped the reader or moved anywhere. Sabbagh said it himself when he referred to an article headlined: “Doctor finds largest prime number but nobody cares.” Too right.

Shell Plant

STORIES I STOLE

Wendell Steavenson Atlantic

“Here we have a few things,we have wine,we have our stories and these things we would like to share.”

This highly engaging and entertaining novel tells the story of a young woman’s journey through a dangerous,post communist world of excessive vodka consumption, crumbling shrines to Stalin,widespread corruption and unreliable electricity supplies. She beautifully describes a people who have been torn apart by political collapse,civil war and ethnic cleansing, but who still doggedly believe they live in the best country in the world. Her reports on life in the Caucasus are so elaborate and vivid that we feel as if we are sharing the cold Tbilisi days and even colder nights with the writer.

Even if you have no particular interest in Russian and Georgian history,the novel will not fail to draw you into the stories and voices of a truly unique,idiosyncratic people. Steavenson usefully includes many potted histories of the events that took place in post war and post-Stalinist Russia,so the reader is never alienated or confused. Stories I Stole is heartbreaking,funny and frequently extremely moving. Maria Thomas

Karl Sabbagh Atlantic

The good, the bad and the ugly...

In an astoundingly astute marketing move,the English Provender Company have introduced the Very Lazy range, designed to cater effortlessly to the limitations placed on quality kitchen time by the hurly-burly of modern life. Aimed at those who don’t fancy a take-away every night of the week,the range promises the taste,nutrients, texture and flavour of fresh ingredients with absolutely minimal preparation, and is available at various supermarkets.

Sample snack:

Add 5 teaspoons of Very Lazy Onions and 2 teaspoons of Very Lazy Garlic to a pan-full of fried mushrooms and peppers,slather onto thick crusty bread, top with grated cheese and place under the grill for a couple of minutes.

As the first proper week of uni draws to a close, and the limitations of you and your flatmates’ culinary ability is being exposed in all its horrible glory, don’t hide away, too scared to set a toe over the threshold of your kitchen. Instead, take advantage of a page catering for all tastes. If, on the other hand, you are one of those people who loves nothing better than boiling away over the stove, we’d love to hear from you. Send us your recipes, tips and sundry food advice by emailing grfood@cf.ac.uk, or pop up to the office fourth floor and ask for me, Jane Eyre

Interestingly enough,Staples have branched out into catering,or at least catering student-style,by conducting a survey. Apparently,the average student’s staple (did you see what they did there?) diet consists of 10 essentials that are never found too far from the kitchen cupboard.

1) Bread

2) Pot Noodle

3) Doner kebab - a late night must!

4) Philadelphia cheese

5) Baked Beans - to hell with Heinz,it’s the beans that have 57 varieties

6) Pasta

7) Soup

8) Potatoes

9) Sauce - HP,Heinz,you name it,it’s lurking in the cupboard

10) Chocolate

No doubt this list has something to do with their Essential Student Survival Kit,which includes a kettle,a toaster and a sandwich-maker,and is priced at a nifty £19.99.

Five minute feast

It’s well known that pasta in all shapes,sizes and colours,is the essential ingredient in the majority of any student’s experiments in the kitchen.With that in mind,here’s a simple recipe that takes literally no time to prepare,looks good and tastes great.

Boil and drain a portion of pasta. Add 2 teaspoons of garlic powder, 1 teaspoon of crushed chillis,2 teaspoon of olive oil,1 teaspoon of basil or mixed herbs,salt and pepper to taste.

Sprinkle with Parmesan or grated cheddar cheese. Enjoy.

Upper crust meals up for grabs

We’re so lucky,us students.

Pizza Hut has teamed up with the NUS to offer us a generous 20% discount. The offer is valid between Sunday and Thursday,and can be redeemed against meals eaten in as well as takeaways and deliveries,but excluding the buffet.

With over 500 outlets in the UK,and over 2.5 million NUS cardholders currently patronising them,it’s thought that the discount will save us as much as £10 million. That’s a hell of a lot of pizza.

Pirates of the Caribbean

AVAST ME BEAUTIES! ARRRRR! SHIVER ME TIMBERS AND LET ME TELL YOU A TALE OF SKULLDUGGERY,LOOSE MORALS AND BARRELS OF GROG. No,not Union politics,but a review of the Pirates Of The Caribbean computer game.

One thing worth noting from the outset is that POTC was not originally mapped out as a feature film cash-in. It was in fact in development previous to the film and the changes made to conform to the license are largely cosmetic. The game play in POTC is anchored in a rich combination of trading,land and sea exploration and FPS (first person swashbuckling). In essence it combines a set of about a half a dozen distinct mini-games.

Perhaps inevitably,as the game requires the player to master a wide range of skills,there is quite a steep learning curve and you will certainly spend some time in the company of Davy Jones before finding your sea legs.

The general level of difficulty is best described as “unforgiving”: encounters with rival ships or storms will not be survived by chance alone. Certainly the high quality of the graphics and sound effects impress sufficiently that one is motivated to press through these initial challenges: sails billow,water ripples and grass swishes nicely as you run through it waving a cutlass around. Even the most rabid of seadogs will want to find time to cruise and enjoy the scenery. Initially rather complex and bewildering,once mastered the sea combat model is a pleasure to play providing impressive tactical and strategic depth. This is not target-and-click shooter: players must factor in gun angles, speed/manoeuvrability trade-offs, reloading times and when best to use various types of ammunition. There is also the option for budding flashing blades to get personally involved. However,first person combat is slightly pedestrian by modern standards and

appears to be mostly about shuffling back and forth pressing the “block” button. In the context of the game as a whole this is acceptable,but in itself this aspect of the game does not live up to contemporary standards (compared with,say,the recent Jedi Academy title).

Alas, POTC,for all its achievements also has its compliment of bilge. The plot line the player is forced to follow is somewhat dull and where it is not predictable,is incomprehensible. It seems a shame that this obligatory aspect of the game somewhat tempers one’s ability to independently travel and act as one chooses. The voice acting is rather uneven and sometimes slightly embarrassing; a rum-soaked flatmate could probably do just as good a job.

Furthermore,despite having 101 keys and a mouse to allow user interaction, the developers have opted for a rather crabbed console-style mode of interaction.

Whilst this may make sense if one is trying to play using only a game pad,it feels strange on a PC. Whilst immersion is all,perhaps the developers have gone too far to make players feel as if they had hooks for hands... More encouragingly,there already seems to be a committed community of mod writers whose efforts should extend the life the title considerably.

Is this game worthy of your pieces of eight? Ultimately land-lubber fans of the film had best avoid being press-ganged owing to the sometimes harsh levels of difficulty and steep learning curve. However,more committed old salts who enjoy an epic voyage should haul their keels down to their nearest games shop where they will find much to enjoy.

The best is yet to come...

Soul Calibur 2 has been rocking Digital’s world this week. So many sleepless nights trying to perfect that elusive opponent mincing combo has meant that we haven’t had time to put it in this issue. Rest assured however that the definitive review is coming next issue, along with any other gaming delights that drag our attention away from Namco’s ultimate fighter. Die, Voldo! Die!

Yarr? Yarr, harr harr, harr! Yo ho ho.

GeekLife

L Lucos casts a ‘critical’ eye over Britney in Digital’s new opinion section.

What the holy mongrel has happened to Britney Spears?! Has she had the ultimate sluttification make over or something? Who has seen the cover of Rolling Stone magazine? (Well,who hasn’t?) PHHWWARRR!!!

Not that I’m complaining or anything.. OK,I am… But not about the fact that Kleenex sales will suddenly rise,and I am going to have to do more laundry. But I’m complaining about the fact that she thinks that this is what is going to sell records.

What’s going to sell records is coming out with decent music,not coming out with Madonna. That’s going to sell calendars and gents’ magazines,as well

The sound of music

Gareth Lloyd takes a look at a few of the best sites to get your musical rocks off to. Like, whatever that means.

The NME’s recent Smash Hitsesque makeover [Ha! It could only aspire to the level of Smash Hits!Ed] will surely come to represent another nail in the coffin of the oncegreat mag. In the spirit of progress, then,here’s Digital’s quick and dirty

guide to the best websites dedicated to bringing you,the musical connoisseur, all the latest reviews and info.

as giving male crotches third degree burns.

OK maybe,I’m wrong. Take tATu for example,who sound like a day at Silverstone Racecourse,yet they somehow make it up the charts with their constant,public taste bud tickling. [Damn right you’re wrong! tATu are the most important band of our times - Ed.]

Christina Aguillererer (whatever) [Aguilera - Irritable Ed] is also guilty of the same thing… hang on?! You don’t think there is a connection do you? First off,Christina sexes up her image to boost her single sales - poses nude for Rolling Stones and has a snog with Madonna,and here’s Britney doing exactly the same thing. I think I’m on to a conspiracy theory here? I’d better get some mags in and research this further (do not disturb!).

Does sex sell records? Email your opinions to the usual address.

email grdigital@cf.ac.uk Good lord. Us? Gratuitous?

A couple of the printed magazines maintain sites. www.q4music.com is scant in terms of new content (most is recycled from the mag itself),but fea-

email llucoscolumn@hotmail.com

tures a useful archive of reviews. www.nme.com,unsurprisingly,is guilty of all the same crimes as the magazine itself: celebrity obsessed and relentlessly manipulative of its own readership. The forums are fun,however,for baiting angsty teens. Both of these sites also commit the original sin of having ads that block the page itself. That block the page itself. Not to put to fine a point on this,but WHY?

www.pitchfor kmedia.com eclipses these sites with ease. Comprehensive, intelligent,and just a wee bit pretentious,it’s absolutely packed with everything you could possibly want from a music website. Nearly. Oh,well,it’s got a vaguely annoying US slant,and rarely has samples for download,but this is by far the best of a rather dire bunch.

Now,as we all know,people who download music illegally are invariably glue-sniffers and baby-killers. A number of sites exist,however,that provide legal MP3 files,and won’t have the RIAA’s band of robo-nazi lawyers breaking your door down. The biggest is www.mp3.com,containing a nice mix of songs from well-known artists and hopeful unknowns,all looking to become your New Favourite Band. An alternative is www.iuma.com,which concentrates solely on unsigned bands from all genres. Part of the fun of these sites is the range of quality you’ll encounter,and the unintentional hilarity of hearing some bloke warbling along to a drum synth.

Gore blimey!

As Rob Zombie’s longawaited gore feast House Of 1000 Corpses hits the big screen,we take you on a trawl through the goriest scenes on film.

THE “WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?” SCENE

Film: Evil Dead II (1987)

It’s been a bad day for Bruce Campbell (top right and bottom right): his hand has gone evil and is trying to kill him. So what should a man do should such a situation arise? Well,pin the offending hand to the floor with a carving knife, grab a nearby chainsaw and chop the mother off,of course.

THE SLAP SCENE

Film: The Fly (1986)

A girl needs a man who can give her love and attention,not one who’s turning into a fly. But when Geena Davis gives the increasingly insectoid Jeff Goldblum (left) a well-deserved slap,his jaw comes off in her hand. How impolite.

THE GUT-EATINGSCENE

Film: Day Of The Dead (1985)

The last thing you need when you’re run-

ning away from a horde of zombies is to find that some bugger’s locked the way out. Joseph Pilato (bottom left) found himself in that predicament,and promptly responded by becoming the zombies’ dinner.

THE LAWNMOWER SCENE

Film: Brain Dead (1992)

Timothy Balme (above) knows how to deal with the undead: chop them to bits with a lawnmower. Bit messy though. Not recommended.

Film competition 31

To celebrate the UK release of the awesome The Matrix Reloaded on DVD and VHS on October 10,Warner Home Video have very kindly provided us with two sets of Matrix DVDs and games. So for your chance to win a fantastic prize of The Matrix DVD, The Matrix Reloaded DVD, The Animatrix DVD and Enter The Matrix game,simply answer the following question,write it on a postcard with your contact details and return it to us in our media penthouse suite on the 4th floor of the Students Union. All entries must be in by October 10.

What is the name of the character played by Carrie-Anne Moss in The Matrix Reloaded?

The Matrix Reloaded. Available to buy on DVD and VHS from Friday October 10.

(c) 2003 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved.

Let’s see how they got on!

Quench’s first ever blind date saw Ed and Hilary meeting for a candle lit dinner at

By Ian Loynd

Hilary on Ed

What was your first impression of Ed?

He really looked like someone I knew. A good looking guy but not scruffy enough for me. Did you like his clothes?

Yeah,they were fine. Just what I’d expect for that sort of occasion.

How was the conversation?

It flowed really well and got quite serious at time. We talked about religion and ethics and at times it was a bit too heavy. I think he had trouble understanding my accent too [Hilary is from Sunderland].

Did you go out after the meal?

Yes,we went to the pub I work in for some drinks. I fell over on a newly swept floor which was embarrassing. He didn’t seem to mind.

Did you swap phone numbers?

Yes,but I deleted his when I got home. I didn’t really have space to store it in my phone. Will you see each other again?

Of course,but he’ll have to ring me as I haven’t got his number. Snog? Sex? Anything? No.

Final thought?

A really nice guy. I’d recommend him to any girls out there. Just not the guy for me.

Did you swap phone numbers? “Yes, but I deleted his when I got home.”

Ed on Hilary:

What was your first impression of Hilary?

Really good looking girl.

Did you like her clothes?

Yeah. She was really well dressed. How was the conversation?

Easy. We didn’t disagree at least. She was a vegetarian which I thought might have been a problem when it came to the meal but it wasn’t. She had a really nice regional accent.

Did you go out after the meal?

Yeah. Went to the pub she works in. She fell over on the floor and quickly said, "You didn’t see that,right?". It was funny.

Did you swap phone numbers?

Yes,but only in a friendly way.

Will you see each other again?

Not likely. I’d always chat to her if I see her out but doubt we’ll arrange to meet. Snog? Sex? Anything?

Nothing.

Final thought?

Cracking girl. Really nice. Just not my type.

34 Going out

Thursdays, New Model Inn (next to the City Arms), Quay Street 9pm-3am, £3

You wouldn’t expect anything named after a song by Fischerspooner, that most magnificently flash-in-thepan of bands,to have such lasting quality. Yet over the past year DJs Steve Devereux,Andy Davidson and Daf Griffiths have created a night which has exactly that. As the name suggests,it was kickstarted by the electroclash scene in its former guise as Saturday at Clwb Ifor Bach,but the real joy was always in its eclecticism.

Variety,or the lack of it: the perennial failing of club nights. Confining yourself to a single genre leads to stasis,and inevitable duffers mixed in with the floorfillers. There’s nothing worse than getting into the groove with Missy Elliott or The Rapture,only to be left fuming as it’s followed by dull-ass Ashanti or (ugh) The Coral,and it happens everywhere

Except Emerge. It cherry-picks the best of every genre around and throws them all into the mix,sometimes (hello, bootlegs!) at the same time. Justin Timberlake,Peaches,ODB,Eve,Electric Six,Yeah Yeah Yeahs: all have a place in the orgy of electropunkfunkhiphoprock&rolldistortedpop,as they have it. Furthermore,kittens,this open-legs policy to every style of getting your freak on makes it damn cool. Already a regular haunt of budding Cardiff fashionistas, Emerge has also been lauded in i-D,

It’s all a blur at Emerge

Muzik and,er,the NME (spot the odd one out there). Best of all,its DJs bagged the services of the wondrous Freelance Hellraiser for its relaunch party in The Model Inn; cue choon after choon,as Ms Sara Cox would have it,and a thoroughly good time had by all.

Except you,because you weren’t there! So get yo’ ass down to the Model Inn next Thursday; the DJs promise to play the stupendously good new Kelis single, and you’d be a fool to miss it.

Alex Macpherson

THE TAVISTOCK

Bedford Street, Roath

The Bedford Street area is something of an anomaly in the Roath district of Cardiff. There are no Dangermouse posters in the window,very few (but enough) decrepit fridges and cookers,and most joyous of all,very few students in the local pub. And therein does the beauty of the Tavistock,named not-so-obviously after an ancient sea vessel,lie.

Owned by two lovely folk,Karen and Allan,for the best part of the last decade, the amazing prices and traditional interior

make for a pleasant,if not exactly unique, experience. It does have a country-pubSunday-lunch-with-the-parents feel to it,so feel free to subvert that by getting wasted and pretending your parents are there watching you throw up that plaice and potato.

Other exciting stuff includes an adventure playground in the garden,a skittle alley and darts; it also has its own rugby team and women’s darts team,so don’t try and tell me it’s not fun,OK? Pay them a visit soon,and barman Alex with his notable resemblance to Mike “You’re listening to the Streets” Skinner may even check your empties. Score! JohnWiddop

Below:Freelance Hellraiser employs a visual gag, ho ho

Photos:Russell Hicks

JOHNNY CASH

At San Quentin Columbia/Legacy (1969)

The Man In Black,Johnny Cash was every inch a rock legend. Throughout his extensive career he experienced both the highs and lows of fame and recently experienced a resurgence in popularity due to his American albums containing covers of acts such as Depeche Mode and Nine Inch Nails as well as his more traditional material. However his finest and most popular record still Cash’s classic performance live at the San Quentin prison in 1969.

In front of a room pack with whooping and hollering prisoners Cash rattles his way through old classics such as I Walk The Line and Ring Of Fire and also debuting his most famous song,the superb Boy Named Sue. No stranger himself to prison, Cash relates to the men inside and performs several prison protest songs (Folsom Prison Blues, Starkville City Jail and the ubiquitous San Quentin) which unsurprisingly get the loudest cheers. By the end a resounding encore medley has the entire hall in vocal support and you start to get an idea of the impact Cash’s presence has.

A masterful live performance by a born entertainer, At San Quentin is the quintessential Cash album and definitely worth discovery in its remastered and re-issued form. Andy Parsons

BATMAN:THE KILLING JOKE

Writer:Alan Moore,Illustrator: Brian Bolland,Colour Artist:John Higgins Titan Books (1988)

The Joker is undoubtedly the greatest of Batman’s adversaries,and probably the bestloved. In this graphic novel the two are reunited.

Beautifully and very traditionally illustrated,there is a rainbow of tone and emotion amongst these pages - and plenty of the latter. Batman’s trial is not just against crime and criminals,but a lunatic who calls to question the nature of humanity. This is no tale of binary opposites; instead,it blurs the distinctions between good and evil,madness and sanity. Neither is this some kids’ cartoon adventure,but a harshly realistic depiction of the base frailty of the human soul - the depths a person can be driven to by the trials of life.

To perfectly accompany the graphics Moore provides a full and enticing dialogue,yet still proves he understands when pictures speak louder than words. This characterisation of Batman is particularly appealing,as he faces ambigous morality with a more soul-searching tone than in other stories in which he is more like a robotic puppet of the law unable to ask questions or respond intuitively.

For those who have never read a comic book or graphic novel this classic is the ideal place to startif your only knowledge of Batman is through film and television there is a clear back story,and in-jokes that even a novice reader will understand. Short,yet punchy it delivers every blow with grace and you should be prepared to drop your expectations and pick up something new. And for those who are already fans,take a few minutes to reread and enjoy this book,because it deserves it. Janine Jones

ED WOOD

Dir:Tim Burton (1994)

Tim Burton’s (Edward Scissorhands, Beetlejuice) Ed Wood strikes the perfect balance between pathos and humour, making the film one of the supreme cult classics of the last decade.

The biographical film plays homage to director/actor/producer/writer Edward D Wood Junior’s dismal career of unintentionally cheesy horror flicks. It opens in 1953 when Wood (Johnny Depp) enlists the help of his misfit friends to shoot Glen And Glenda,a film inspired by Wood’s penchant for wearing angora sweaters. These include incomprehensible Swedish wrestler Tor Johnson (George Steele) and Bill Murrey as camp Bunny Beckub who has some of the funniest lines of the film (“Goodbye penis!”).

Wood goes on to shoot more films doomed to failure and compromise,such as Plan 9 From Outer Space,but he remains enthusiastic and optimistic, always seeing himself as the next Orson Welles.

Depp plays the upbeat Wood with charm and sincerity,and the sing-song delivery of his lines makes the character’s optimism infectious; for example,in refusing to accept failure,Wood proclaims to a director: “Worst film you ever saw? Well, my next one will be better.” Martin Landam deservedly received an Oscar for his supporting role as has-been morphine addict Bela Lugosi. He has some absurd but heartfelt speeches and serves to emphasise Ed Wood’s humane qualities.

Meanwhile,the atmospheric black and white monochrome,along with the cheesy acting style and old-fashioned screen changes all help to create a real feeling of the 1950s.

Ed Wood is a brilliantly quirky and honest film and arguably Burton’s best.

Trina Wallace

“He talks a good game”

Football is a simple game" were the words spoken by former England legend Jimmy Greaves whilst deep into his fight with alcoholism. And it makes sense,for only the demon drink would be capable of creating such naïveté in one of the finest footballers these shores have ever produced.

Conversely another man suffering the perils of booze,the great Brian Clough is far more in touch with his senses: "Football has become a prostitute," he once observed with the turn of phrase that inspires a warm glow in the heart of any supporter reminiscing the days when "Old Big ‘Ed" ruled the touch-line.

But sentiment and romance have no place in the modern game. Roars from the crowd pale in significance to the clatter of coins,as millions of pounds of supporters’ hard-earned and loyally spent cash go towards expanding the global empires of clubs around the world.

There is not an area of the game devoid of commercial exploitation. Even the seats of Real Madrid’s dugout brandish the logo of their principal sponsors Siemens,whilst Manchester United is more a brand name than a top class team.

Football clubs have lost contact with the fans: the people that wring out their pockets on a weekly basis to fund the stock market obsessed exec-

Money talks

Sports writer of the year Riath Al-Samarrai investigates the murder of football

utives,who judge a team by performance in the FTSE shares index and not on the pitch.

Be it the rainy Wednesday night in Barnet,or stormy Saturday in Sunderland,the terraces breed a rare type of sadist. A person so acclimatised to suffering they will steal,pillage,travel land and air to follow a team with no hope of winning.

Children’s college funds,marriages and family silver will all melt into a season ticket,replica shirt and meat

“The working class charm of the beautiful game has been destroyed and its face scarred with images of the pound.”

pie,yet through the ache and agony of it,three points on a Saturday is a better painkiller than anything on the market.

But the cost of the anaesthetic is becoming too much for even the most addicted football-junkies.

When Manchester United began their pre-season training this year,it was not the Lancashire sun that engulfed them as they sweated out their labours on a training pitch, rather like many of their rivals,they crossed the Atlantic in pursuit of the Yankee dollar.

Glamourised commercial trips abroad,while successful in shifting a few Ryan Giggs key-rings and expanding their appeal in far away lands, have robbed the real supporters of an opportunity to watch their side prepare for another season.

The simplicity and working class charm of the beautiful game has been destroyed and its face scarred

with images of the pound,yen,dollar and any other currency invaded by these corporate bandwagons.

Times have moved on at football grounds where the height of commercial adventure would be a half-time raffle,nowadays thanks to Rupert Murdoch and his assassination of all things pure and decent in the sacred national sport,you don’t even have to go to a game.

"Bringing football into the living rooms of fans around the country," is the banner under which Murdoch fights his crusade for media domination,depicting himself as Jesus Christ,the generous provider to the state.

However,the effect of this second coming and “saviour of football” has been tantamount to scribbling on the Mona Lisa for its destructive worth. The precious and unique value of the beautiful game by far outweighs that of any financial enterprise,yet with every cheque signed the football ground is closer resembling the stock exchange where the players on display are merely products to be bought and sold to the gullible,free spending public.

The harsh reality is striking and to believe in any kind of pure future for the sacred national game would be ignorance,but if this is to be bliss then make mine a triple whisky.

this is wrong

YOUKNOW,I really can’t stand it at the moment. Things just keep going wrong. For some unknown reason,being a part-time master’s student makes you some sort of pariah, with a standing just below a leper. A leper with piles. Many would assume that someone who had to split their degree in half was doing it because they couldn’t afford the whole amount. One might also think that this bifurcated arrangement was designed for those students currently in employment,which is most of us by the end of our final year. In other words,your average parttimer isn’t exactly possessive of a massive wealth. What you might not know is that this arrangement also includes paying full taxes and council tax. Thus,the people who are subject to pay the most money at university are actually the poorest. Who’da thunkit,eh? I’m not objecting to the taxes,as it’s always nice to have an ambulance come and pick you up if you fall down in the street. In fact,this is merely a lament at the state of being poor and the crushing weight of debt - a millstone around my neck already,at the cruel age of 22. Oh,nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen,Lord... Now that,dear reader,is how to be a drama queen,in

case the necessity of grifting should arise. This column is actually dictated to a eunuch,who types away on a keyboard of purest platinum... Nah. The first image is closer to the truth.

You know,despite being English (well, half-English,half-Welsh) and a student, I’ve actually come to hate both students and people from England. All quite astonishing,really. Perhaps it’s something to do with spending the summer working here,where parts of the city go into hibernation… and the bits that aren’t Cathays carry on as normal. One only realises the insignificance of the student population after an experience of the day to day working of Cardiff. Unless you are the proprietor of a shop or pub in the student ghetto circuit,in which case the noise of your hands rubbing together will have been audible for weeks,no-one cares that ‘the students’ have returned. In fact,the sight of overprivileged young people,noisily filled up with a hideous concoction of booze, staggering through the streets,yakking away in Home Counties accents, absolutely repels some of us. At this point you should have stopped reading, but for those of you not totally disgusted,I should point out that this says

more about my own prejudices than anything else. It is true to say that I hate everyone,and merely make exceptions to this rule. This shocking misanthropy can be dated back to 1999,just before I started university,if anyone’s interested. But I wouldn’t expect you to be. You have lives.

Those of you who are observant (or can read) will have noticed the all! new! Food page. However,unlike the colour supplements that us here at Quench are hell-bent on destroying,we have no drinks section... until now! All the best booze and fags for your consumption,at no added cost! This issue: the famous litre bottle of San Miguel. Usually encountered just shy of £2,this beauty has given pleasure to thousands and is the perfect way to start the evening. There we go - bish bosh,job done. Please send in your suggestions,as I’m bound to run out of things that I would want you to drink. When it gets to Collis Brown’s cough mixture,you’ll know the end is near. By the way,this column says: drink responsibly. Of course,the intention is entirely the opposite,but these things have to be said. Ah well. Read this column backwards and it contains Satanic messages.Have fun,kids!

Your Horoscopes with Madame Cynthia

Libra

(Sep 23 - Oct 22) Whew! Is it me,or is it getting hot in here? I’m just going to take of my cardigan... and my blouse... and my skirt... there. Oh shit,I’m in just my underwear. What a pity.

Scorpio (Oct 23 - Nov 22) No such cheap titillation for you,you wrinkled accumulation of jism. You’ll pay dearly for every activity you perform this week. Expect to be turned in a pig on Thursday.

Sagittarius

(Nov 23 - Dec 21)

Venus and Pluto team up with Magnatron,Godzilla and Brian Blessed to form the ultimate monster mash. Shit will be fucked up,believe you me.

Capricorn (Dec 22 - Jan 20) Your doctor will advise you to quit smoking this week. This is unfortuate,as just the previous day sees you become the face of Senior Services.

Aquarius

(Jan 21 - Feb 18) Ooh ee oo-ah-ah,oo-ah-ah,walla-walla bing-bong. Don’t make a face, that’s what the stars say. Honest.

Pisces (Feb 19 - Mar 19) If I’m right,you’re tucking into a curry as you read this. Whoo-ee! That’s not going to be the last you see of that bad boy,my friend.

Aries

(Mar 20 - Apr 20) For fuck’s sake,haven’t I told you that cultivating a waxed moustache won’t impress anyone in this day and age, especially the men. Muttonchops are where it’s at,girl.

Taurus

(Apr 21 - May 21) Of course,many people could argue that having an extra limb grow overnight would be really cool,like being Spiderman or something. Looks like it’s down to you to provide an differing opinion.

Gemini

(May 22 - June 21) When a close friend announbces that’s he’s going to take the bull by the horns,you’ll never imagine what he means. Finding out (which isn’t optional,by the way) will bring a tear to the eye. Oof! I don’t envy you,my dear.

Cancer

(June 22 - July 22) You will be surprised at the realisation that all your friends and relatives are evil space vampires,whose evil mission can only be stopped if they are bloodily killed and mutilated. Even more surprising is the response of the police, who refuse to believe you. Maybe they’re space vampires too.

Leo

(July 23 - Aug 23) Those squares just keep sticking their noses in,right? They’re always

telling you that your love is wrong, aren’t they? Well,they’reright. No two people that ugly should be allowed to bang skins.

Virgo

(Aug 24 - Sep 22) if you must insist on reading the noxious bumslurry that passesa for rivalling horoscopes,please don’t do it when I’m in the room. I’m quite sensitive about these things. I also tend to vomit when I’m sad. Life’s rough.

Madame Cynthia is not interested in your problems.She refuses to enter into correspondence,but will welcome gifts