Quench - Issue 38

Q U E N C H QUENCH.GAIRRHYDD.COM > VOL 3.38 > MAY 8 2006

THERUNOF YOURLIFE IAN GUARD NT E STUD INE Z A MAG E OF TH R YEA

QUENCH SENDS A BRAVE REPORTER TO TACKLE THE LONDON MARATHON

HITCHING A RIDE

ACROSS THE CONTINENT WITH ONLY OUR THUMBS

FOLKTRONIC

ADEM SPEAKS TO QUENCH

STEPHEN KING

HORROR MASTER’S LATEST NOVEL REVIEWED

FEELING HORSE:

WE THROW AWAY OUR OVERDRAFTS IN A DAY AT THE RACES

DIARY QUENCH MAGAZINE

CARDIFF UNIVERSITY

the gair rhydd magazine

04 06 07 08 12 16 18 22 25 26 29 30 38 41 49 50 54

Best Student Publication 2005

OTP: More beards for your book Mr Chuffy: Who ate all the pies?

Debate: Who ate all the STIs? Interviews: More beards for your book Features: I call him Gamblor!

Fashion: Did someone die in this?

Travel: Smack my hitch up Food: Grease is the word Reviews: Send you to sleep, Cell?

Books: Forget Norway, go to Kenya Cult Classics: Ooh, aren’t we being edgy...

Music: Crawl out of their hole Arts: Two in the boosh Film: Can’t afford a carriage Going Out: Contradiction in terms Digital: War-ra lovely polar bear Television: Gracing us with its presence

Editor Will Dean Executive editor Tom Wellingham Assistant to the Editors Elaine Morgan Sub-editors Sam Coare, Chris White, Graeme Porteous Arts Kim O’Connor, Rebecca Child Books James Skinner, Daisy Beare Columnists John Widdop, TV Grace Cult Classics Matt Turtle Debate Helen Rathbone Digital Sam Curtis Fashion Charlotte Howells, Clare Hooker Features Tom Howard, Helen Thompson Film Catherine Gee, Ryan Owen, Si Truss Food Sian Hughes Going Out Lisa O’Brien Interviews Amira Hashish Mr Chuffy Andy Johnson Music Sam Coare, Harold Shiel, Greg Cochrane, Sofie Jenkinson, Mike Richards, Will Hitchins OTP Geordie Photography Luke Pavey, Adam Gasson, James Perou Travel Bec Storey, Amy Harrison Contributors Jen Long, Tom Brookes, Adam Gasson, Rosie Powling, Emily Kendrick, Matt Deverson, Matt Hitt, Leanna Crookes, Luke Sellers, Ewen Hosie, Brodie Lyon, Laura Horton, Sam Smith, Hannah Perry, Tasha Prest-Smith, Chris Rogers, Jesse Scharf, Chris Pickup, John Lott, Harry Rose, EJ Price, Sian Hughes, James Rendell, Daisy Beare, Maura Bricknell, Kate Monaghan Proof Readers Elise Kirke, Chris Clear, Sophie Robinson Cover design Will Dean Thought of the week: Honk if you’re going to see Bruce!

QUENCH@GAIRRHYDD.COM

QED

Best Student Magazine 2005

L

ynne Truss has a lot to answer for. As well as a fashion for language-based Eats, Shoots and Leaves-style books and programmes (see Balderdash and Piffle et al) being a pedant is now socially acceptable (ish) so much so that the much-watched BBC4 has just launched a They Think It’s All Over-style grammar quiz called Never Mind the Full Stops with Julian Fellows.

It’s reassuring to see. There was a cartoon in last week’s Private Eye with the caption ‘Student Want’s Work’. If you don’t get it I’d advise you to get a copy of Truss’s book.

Now out in lovely paperback.

Over the course of a lengthy gair rhydd career I’ve progressed from being massively unaware of the simple rules of grammar, despite passing GCSE and AS English Language, to being a pain-in-the-arse pointerouter of signs that read ‘Cheap MOT’s’.

Why does it matter you may ask, well, to put it in text parlance – bcs it duz. The meaning that can be lost by bad grammar can make sentences ridiculous. One of my favourites is the old chestnut Fresher’s Week. Now with the apostrophe in its current place we have the bizarre notion of a week dedicated to one university newcomer rather than a Freshers’ Week for everyone.

The fact that professional writers who were sent into universities to help students with their writing have come to the conclusion that the majority of undergraduates are borderline literate is depressing and reinforces the sad fact that since year seven grammar rules have barely been mentioned to us. Or at least they haven’t to this comprehensive-schooled chump.

If none of the above has tempted you to buy some kind of grammar guide think of this. Lecturers DO appreciate good grammar. The fact that you can be arsed to go through your essay and check that your apostrophes and colons are well applied will guarantee you, strike permitting, at least an extra five marks.

Promise.

THREE

QUENCH MAGAZINE ONE TRICK PONY PICTURES: from space Is it cheeky to combine the WebWatch and ‘Snap of the Week’? I don’t see satellite images of my town every week, that’s for sure. And I think I’m all the poorer for it, frankly.

If I could be bothered to download the proper version of Google Earth, I’d go in for some proper voyeurism.

Not just to perv on the neighbours or owt mind. There’s a benefit scrounger down the road needs shopping and frankly none of us has the balls to take a photo of her with a normal camera.

A couple of satellie images of her digging up her garden should do the trick.

Bad back my arse.

earth.google.com

webwatchatquenchdotcom

e week Snap of th

BY CHRIS WHITE

This is where I live. I’m not going in any further. You can see the full awesome power of Google Earth, and the sheer scariness of computer technology, on applefritter.co m/bannedbooks, where the site’s creator has overlaid maps with locations of certain books.

(OVERRATED) BRITISHNESS I’m British. Who cares? It seems BNP scumbag par excellence Nick Griffin cares, and his ‘party’ look like they might win a lot of votes in the local elections. Griffin has joined thousands of other internet ranters, and now has a blog. Visit chairmanscolumn.blogspot.com and give him hell.

I.Q.

INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT what we know and what we’re not quite so sure about

HIT

!"HANGOVERS Bleeeeuuuuurrrrrgh

!"JOHN PRESCOTT - Proof that the hideous can pull too. Yes!

!" BEARDS

- See opposite

!"SUMMER - Football in the park, prettier women on the streets. Summer’s here at last.

!"BLOGS - Better than real media, actually. Alright?

FOUR

- I’m LINEKERyou Gary, !" GARY ft le s e’ wif glad your red tool. That’ll you jug-ea to peddle nasty learn you make documencrisps andut Maradona. taries abo !"PRETENTIOUS FOOD It’s there to be eaten, not to make into a cube and display prettily. Pie please.

!"CHARLES CLARKEWhere to start? The Safety Elephant’s had a pretty bad week...

SHIT

CRITICISM At last year’s media awards, judge Michael Bywater’s comments were: “72.3711% will nod off on the spot” and “needs to get laid more often.”

Perhaps he had a point. This year, former Guardian editor Peter Preston’s comments were: “One of the best argued articles: passionate, well-researched, full of good quotes.” Constructive criticism works: it’s that simple.

(UNDERRATED) QUENCH@GAIRRHYDD.COM

ONE TRICK PONY QUENCH MAGAZINE

JAMES SKINNER

U BEARD OF THE YEAR 2006

BEARD. The story so far

ONETRICKPONY@GAIRRHYDD.COM

all this rubbish online

KEV

quench.gairrhydd.com

Some good entries this week from Joni Karanka and his pal Guillaume (top left and right) and physics student Benjamin Connell (bottom left). There’s also a cameo appearance from a famous ex-Quench editor (don’t worry, he won’t win).

LOVES 24

pon reading last issue’s guest contribution from the inestimable Greg Cochrane, I was delighted by his heartfelt adoration of the wonderful Planet Earth, but equally dismayed by his cheap-shot dissing of another tele-visual milestone – namely, 24.

This is, after all, a show that has inspired a devoted, bordering on ridiculous level of love from myself and my housemates.

Example? Okay: there was the time when the heroic return of a major character resulted in unprecedented levels of cheering, high-fives, and even a (manly) group hug among us.

Another? Well, the demise of said character was enough to leave us quivering, foetal, and choking back not particularly ironic tears. Honestly, I hadn’t been so affected since the last five minutes of The Elephant Man.

The heroic return of a major character resulted in cheering, high-fives, and even a (manly) group hug Which brings me to my wider point - which demands far more than space than this modest box allows - and this, simply, is the strength of a well-told story.

Whether in a book, a song, or even a high budget, exquisitely paced US action serial, any narrative that has the power to move people to boundless happiness and genuine reflection is truly to be admired.

Good stories have existed since caves were first scrawled on, and they surround us everyday, in more ways and guises than we could possibly imagine.

Or (to sound slightly less like an ass): Stories are wicked good, and 24 kicks phat ass.

Greg, you can suck my balls.

the guest column the guest column the guest column the guest column the guest column

0, 19, 56, 48, 3, 13, 45, 69, 600, 75, THE350, MAGIC 3873, 412,NUMBER 7, 2, 35, 26, 475, 9, 3, 17 percentage of people likely to commit 567, 3783, 34623,more 3, 7, 585, 60,suicide 38, as they were born in the months of April, May or June 16, 4638, 97, 11, 373, 789, 12, 59, 34

FIVE

QUENCH MAGAZINE ONE TRICK PONY

WARNING

1) An intimation, threat or sign of impending danger or evil (2) (a) Advice to beware; (b) a cautionary or deterrent example (3) Something such as a signal that warns

Mr Chuffy Investigates...

Why obesity is phat

H

the early 90s, has claimed that ow much is that little cute offenders just don’t fancy fat kids. doggy in the window? You Parsnip farmer Fencefold explains that know, the one with the most modern paedophiles are blind adorable waggly tail. What’s that? due to the congenital disease RetinalIt’s being eaten alive by an overCornflake-Muncher-By-Proxy and must weight toddler?! You little bastard! therefore rely upon tactile senses to Cease your panic, this is a made up event. But if it wasn’t would you real- ascertain whether an object is a child. ly care? That child is our future. Feed Due to this ailment, offenders will often mistake obese children for wild him your canines. boar or astrologers.

This week the government were Under intense media pressure, caught with their metaphorical pants Home Secretary and amateur eledown following an embarrassing Uphant impersonator Charles Clarke turn involving childhood obesity. has been forced to dress as a child Previously, the New Labour minister and stand on the white cliffs of Dover responsible for porkers, Lardy Fanjita, in order to coax the 1000 blind paehad claimed that childhood obesity dophilic asylum seekers, accidentally was detrimental to kids’ health, with released from prison, out of the counstudies linking an inflated waistline try. Initial governmental reports with sweaty palms, male menstruaclaiming that the prisoners had tion, Bird Flu and eating too much. used voodoo black magic to However, the impending energy criescape have since been retractsis has led to a governmental rethink, ed, following news that prison thanks largely to the right-of-centre guards released the inmates think tank P.O.L. P.O.T. (Preparatory after they claimed to be relations Organisation of Legislation – Policy of the cons on a prison visit. A prison Obstructing Terrorism). Current Middle spokesperson later acknowledged the Eastern instability, coupled with error saying, “how were we to know?

China’s one billion children being They all look the same.” breast-fed on crude oil, has led the Potty PC Human Rights legislation international price for a barrel of oil to enforced by Brussels prohibits the pass the 80 camel mark. With oil imprisonment of anyone for looking a stocks depleting and nuclear power still a sore point in Chernobyl, obese children present an attractive renewable alternative. According to preliminary trials in the States, once melted down, an obese child can power a standard 60 watt light bulb for over one hour. Russian energy tycoon Roman Abramovich is believed to have already purchased over 10,000 maternity wards in preparation for the energy reform.

Further embarrassment ensued when it was revealed that obese children are statistically safer from abuse.

Reformed paedophile Wishbone Fencefold, who gave up noncery when the PREZZA: practice was outlawed in Would you?

SIX

bit foreign.

Skinny sycophant Jamie Oliver is to be formerly flogged following the fictitious danger placed on children through his good food crusade. Last year, Oliver fronted a high-profile campaign seeking to improve the nutritious content of school dinners and consequently reduce childhood obesity. However, after reading this article, Oliver too has backtracked, with his latest programme Jamie Says: Eat Loads of Shit Food So I Can Melt You Down to Power My Moped, set to be shown on Channel 4 in the autumn.

“

PC human rights legilsation prohibts imprisonment of anyone who looks a bit foreign In order to encourage flabbiness in children the government also plan to release the simulation and city building computer game Obese City. The objective of the game is to design and build an artificial city whilst sitting on a couch and gorging on lard. The victor is the first to reach the magical mass of 43 stone.

Despite these promising initiatives, Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott angered obesity activists at the weekend after it emerged that Prescott’s belly was in fact not blubber but a storage warehouse for bondage equipment. One tabloid journalist, disguised as a fake Arab camel-milkshake, probed the Minister for Making Sex’s belly-button to reveal a gimp mask and auto-asphyxiation chamber.

Calls for his immediate resignation were heightened when it was revealed that the Member of Parliament had engaged in an extra marital affair.

The news broke on the day of other shocking revelations including details of a Catholic priest abusing boys and Africa being a bit poor.

CHUFFY@GAIRRHYDD.COM

DEBATE QUENCH MAGAZINE

Sex, lies and red tape Two members of the Students’ Union go head to head and bash it out over whether or not an on-campus Genitourinary Medicine (GUM) Clinic is a good idea

Against, OBrien, S.H.A.G. Coordinator

For, Kate Monaghan, Health and Welfare Officer

B

oring as they may seem, these stats are the reason why an on campus GUM facility is not just ‘an unachievable idea created by students with no ability to affect change’ (Mickelodeon), but a necessary addition to the University: •In 2004, women aged 16-24 accounted for 70% of female diagnoses of Chlamydia and Gonorrhoea, while men of the same age made up 56% of male Chlamydia diagnoses and 41% of male Gonorrhoea diagnoses.

•Young people account for 10% of new HIV diagnoses every year. In 2003, there were 6675 new cases of HIV/AIDS in the UK. •One-in-ten of the UK population have had an STI. •In the last ten years, sexual health clinic workloads have doubled, but funding has been cut.

Worse than you expected, right? What is more disturbing is that the long waiting periods result in an increase in the duration of infectiousness, and an increase in the probability of disease transmission. Not to mention that around one-in-three will continue to have sex while waiting for an appointment. With 23,000 students at Cardiff Univeristy, 7,666 are having sex not knowing what they may have.

Sexual health provisions simply aren’t good enough.

Waiting list times continue to grow as levels of STIs continue to rise. The NUS and Terrance Higgins Trust have lobbied Parliament for adequate sexual health provision.

To those who cite the stigma attached to attending GUM clinics, with comments like “I’m not going there, what if my mates see me?” You don’t have to wear a badge saying “I got tested.” Appointments are private, but necessary.

The proposal is not to build a clinic with a massive GUM sign outside, merely to appoint an extra member of staff at the Health Centre next to the Union, so that a little pressure can be taken off the already overburdened local health services, and provide quick and easy access to the members of Cardiff University who are responsible enough to look after their sexual well-being. There are already staff in the Infirmary who are employed to work on a Wednesday afternoon, but the funding has not been made available for them to treat patients. There is just no way this can be a bad idea. The facts speak for themselves.

DEBATE@GAIRRHYDD.COM

Lisa

I

t is nye on impossible to open a newspaper these days without being bombarded with stats about the rapid decline of our sexual health, this is nothing new.

In fact our sexual health has been on a road to destruction since the end of the sexual revolution in the 1970s and there are no signs of the problem being solved without a fundamental change to our attitudes.

So is an on-campus GUM clinic a possible answer?

Sadly not. Although this may appear to be the solution, scratch the surface and you’ll see its many flaws.

Don’t get me wrong, I feel it is vital that all sexually active people have easy access to sexual health screenings. GUM Clinics up and down the country aim to do just that, this is no revolutionary idea.

However, despite the government setting new targets of treating patients within 48 hours, the clinics are desperately playing catching up and have warned that they would need to treble their capacity in order to meet the targets.

In Cardiff alone there is a staggering eight-week wait for women, and six-week wait for men.

Why then do I oppose a GUM Clinic in the Union?

Confidentiality is at the crux of medical issues, but none more so than sexual health. Attitudes within society are still archaic, sexual health is still not discussed openly, and the diagnosis of a bout of the clap or crabs is not something you would discuss over a pint. So would you happily queue up outside the Union GUM Clinic next to people at the box office? OK, so this is an exaggeration, but the confidentiality issue cannot be overlooked.

My other concern is that resources are simply not available to fund or staff a second GUM Clinic in Cardiff.

Sexual health services are already underfunded and to introduce a new service wouldn’t mean new funds, it would simply skim more from the money from the existing. It is fantasy to assume that even with the required money there would be staff available to run it. Sexual health clinics continually turn people away because of staff shortages.

This said, I don’t believe burying our heads in the sand and resigning ourselves to another fact of life is acceptable either. The problems we face can be resolved through a change in societies attitude and a commitment by the Government to maintain a consistent sexual health service. For now a quick fix will simply not do.

SEVEN

QUENCH MAGAZINE INTERVIEWS

MAGIC AROUNDABOUT

Ryan Owen has a drink with actor and director, Scott Ryan, in a swanky Cardiff hotel bar. As his new movie, The Magician, hits the silver screen, there could be no better time to bond over the love of everything film...

S

cott Ryan is a patient man.

“Originally I did a hitman script after I read this book Contract Killer, around 15 to 17 years ago, so it’s taken a long time for it to become The Magician and get made,” he explains.

Obvious comparisons have been made between Man Bites Dog and The Last Horror Movie. He talks about why he chose to film The Magician in a mockumentary style. “They’re the least done, and if done well I think they’re better than anything else. It’s about stripping it down to the nuts and bolts: there’s no bullshit, there’s no lying, no pretence, no fancy camera angles. It’s pretty raw; that’s what people like about it.”

Continuing on this theme, Scott discusses how The Magician isn’t stylised and its ability to de-romanticise violence. “In Guy Ritchie films, there tends to be a lot of fucking around with the camera, and it’s all very stylised, whereas this isn’t, it’s what it’s kinda like if you’re one of these guys doing this job for a living, but a little bit more humorous probably than in real life.”

Meandering onto his acting style, Mr Ryan mentions his fellow actors and inspirations. “The only performance I really love is Daniel Day Lewis in Gangs of New York. He’s just the scariest character I’ve ever seen on film, you don’t know what he’s going to do, he’s got that ability about him and he underplays it for most of the film. This is the way I tried to be. Guys that are really hard and violent don’t actually go

EIGHT

around pretending to be, because they are. It’s what they do.”

So what’s happening next? “I’ve started writing a zombie-road movie, Who Cares Who Wins. Hopefully I’ll get to shoot that later this year or next year with HD cameras. It is very much handheld documentary style.”

Predicting his future he comments: “I want to do everything from sci-fi, a rom-com, a war film, a bit of horror. I think all stories have been told. But the important thing is trying to tell these stories in a way that no-one has told them before, bringing something new to it. Also to make it character-driven; the story is a secondary thing.”

“

“It’s not that hard to make a feature film” Ryan on filmmaking

Ryan is very encouraging to potential filmmakers.“If I can do it, what’s to stop anybody else doing it? It’s hard to get it in front of an audience, but it’s not that hard to make. I was desperate, and not getting anywhere, and this is the thing I was best at, and that I wanted to do more than anything else.

So I felt like if I gave up on it I was going to regret it, you know. I don’t want to be sitting on my death bed when I’m 80, thinking about if I had just given it a go, instead of regretting not doing something with what I had.

So that’s sort of what kept me going.”

Continuing on from this, he talks about his fellow students in filmschool. “None of them are doing what they wanted to do, they could’ve done exactly what I did, but they didn’t. If you’re gonna do something then do it.

If you are a filmmaker, make films. You may not get a theatrical release but you will learn more from doing it than you ever will from film school, and that will make you a better filmmaker when you go and make the next movie. Just do it.”

On a tangent relating to recent developments in camera hardware, Scott’s advice to filmmakers is “The technology is there so there’s no reason why you or anybody can’t go and bloody make a feature film for a couple of grand, and edit it and get a rough cut.

You can get it released all across the UK with digital projectors. There’s no reason you can’t do it.” Again, he insists: “if you wanna do something, just do it, and don’t give up. Don’t listen to anybody saying you can’t do it.”

As our interview draws to its close Scott Ryan ponders in retrospect: “I look back and I think The Magician is probably the cheapest film ever to get released theatrically internationally, so I think that’s pretty fucking cool.”

Apparently since the film’s success he has also met real hard man Chopper as well as getting funding for his new film. Not bad, for a film that apparently cost just $3000, and is bloody good. Go see it now, it will make you laugh like David Blaine would laugh at Noel Edmonds’ face.

INTERVIEWS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

INTERVIEWS QUENCH MAGAZINE

LARRIKIN AROUND So what is the influence behind the quirky style that Larrikin Love has to offer? Luke Sellers feels it’s time to find out...

T

heir live shows unite the beerswilling rock chav and the art school scenester. They site Rimbaud and Orwell as influences and their music is an eclectic concoction of sounds veering between rock, reggae, bluegrass and Pogues-esque celtic foot-stompers.

No wonder Larrikin Love are tipped as one of the most exciting new bands of 2006. In the midst of their first headlining tour, front man Edward Larrikin talks about his passion for writing, press problems and what it is to be a Larrikin.

One aspect that sets Larrikin Love apart from their contemporaries is their powerful, poetic lyrics which owe much to Edward’s love of literature. “A lot of our influences are writers because that’s what I set out to be in the first place,” he explains. “I’ve been writing since I was 10, then when I was 17 I needed to find a good medium to put the words through.

“When I started learning the guitar it was more about putting what I’d written to music than writing songs. Along the way I met these fantastic musicians (Micko - guitar, Alfie - bass and Coz drums). Now the music’s a huge part of it as well.”

INTERVIEWS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

Edward’s desire to communicate his words to a wide audience extends beyond the realms of indie rock. As well as recording Larrikin Love’s debut album (out in August) Edward has collaborated with artists from London’s grime scene. “There’s this producer called Static who’s brought people together from the grime and indie scenes.

“

“I’m doing a song with Static and Pete Doherty”

Edward on his latest collaborations “I’ve done a song with Roll Deep Crew and I’m doing a song with Static and Doherty”. The reluctance to mention Pete Doherty stems from early reviews where Larrikin Love were likened to the Libertines and Edward to a young Pete Doherty. “The biggest stick I’ve had from the press is because I talk about books and literature. Therefore they compare me with the last person who mentioned it (Doherty).” Despite Ed’s uneasiness at being compared to the Babyshambles front man, it seems Pete has recognised a kindred spirit in Edward: “He called me and said he wants to write a

song with me,” Ed reveals.

As someone used to being free with words Edward often feels misrepresented when the bands words are consigned to print. “We did an interview with NME and they asked how we would label our sound. Alfie said ‘Thamesbeat’ as a joke. The next week it was like, Thamesbeat! Mystery Jets the Grandfathers of Thamesbeat!

Jamie T, the beat poet of Thamesbeat!

Larrikin Love the youngest members of Thamesbeat! We really regret saying that now.”

Larrikin Love’s debut album certainly looks set to distance them from the stereotypes created by sections of the music press. “It’s a concept album in three parts,” explains Edward. “The first part’s called ‘hate’; it’s about escaping London and England. The second part is called ‘fairytale’, about innocence and childhood and, the last part’s called ‘freedom’.

With the interview drawing to a close there remains one further question to ask: just what is a Larrikin? “If you’re a larrikin you’re a rascal, but in a charming way,” says Ed. Few bands embody their name quite so wholeheartedly as Larrikin Love.

NINE

QUENCH MAGAZINE INTERVIEWS

James Skinner chats to acclaimed purveyor of ‘folk-tronica’, Adem Ilhan, and finds out about; his wonderful new album and forthcoming UK tour, his fêted Homefires festival in London, and all sorts of other interesting things

W

hen Adem’s debut album, Homesongs, was released on the über-hip Domino label in 2004, it’s fair to say it caught a few critics by surprise.

Formerly the bassist in Londonbased post-rock trio Fridge (along with Kieran Hebden, better known as Four Tet), his first solo release led to comparisons with folk luminaries Nick Drake and Vashti Bunyan, helped coin the term ‘folk-tronica’, and became a massive word-of-mouth success.

Cut to April 2006, and I’m speaking to a sniffly Adem over the phone, days before he is due to embark on a UK tour in support of his fantastic second album, Love and Other Planets (reviewed on page 30 of this very magazine). Since the release of Homesongs he has toured extensively, been involved in numerous musical projects, and even put together the revered yearly Homefires festival in London that, over the last two years, TEN

has featured UK performances from José Gonzalez, Joanna Newsom and Willy Mason as well as stars such as Badly Drawn Boy and Beth Orton.

Returning to his first album though, Adem was ‘amazed’ with the positive reaction it received: “I think because I had no preconceptions – no idea what to expect, nothing to measure it by. So I was really, really pleased.”

“

“I started looking at space; cosmic space, but also the space between people and the space inside us” Adem on Love and Other Planets

However, far from inspiring confidence in terms of approaching its follow up, he was keen to avoid repeating himself and “making Homesongs two”.

This is something he has emphatically sidestepped: in Love and Other Planets

he has created what is surely one of the albums of the year thus far, a record both sonically adventurous and lyrically accomplished.

Thematically concerned (as its title suggests) with the idea of the universe and human emotions being very much intertwined, the basic concepts of love, friendship and optimism in the face of adversity that permeate his first record are all present and magnified here.

But… space?

“After writing four or five songs for the record, I realised that like Homesongs, there was a really strong thematic link running through all of them. I decided I was obviously trying to say something, so I wanted to explore that and see where it took me. And that’s when I started looking at space, and the themes of space… not just as cosmic space, but the space between people, the space inside us; the space of time and the gaps between things.”

INTERVIEWS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

QUENCH MAGAZINE INTERVIEWS

JOANNA NEWSOM: Elfin Asked to pick a key song from the album, Adem struggles: “The first track is important as it’s an overview of sorts, whereas in Spirals you’ve got someone at the centre of a very tiny feeling, looking out into the hugeness of it all and equating the two – so there are different perspectives and interpretations. You’ve got Crashlander where someone comes into your life, then you’ve got Launch Yourself where someone leaves your life. I think to pick one song would kind of negate the point of it.”

“

“We’ve got a bass, a double bass, glockenspiel, guitars, autoharps, bells, shakers, violins, viola...”

Adem on the current UK tour

Further discussion of the differences between his two albums reveals that where Homesongs was built to ‘stand the test of time,’ Planets is “built to grow, like a seed; it relishes repeated listens. The more you explore it the more you’ll discover.

I really pushed that with this record.”

Talk of influences on his work reveals that he’s “more influenced by my friends and the people around me than any specific sort of music” – something that makes a lot of sense given the intimate lyrical content with which he deals.

Coughs and sneezes notwithstanding, he is animated about the forthcoming tour: “I’ve got a fantastic new band together – a five-piece, all swapping round, with loads of different instruments, everyone singing – we’ve got a bass, a double bass, glockenspiel, guitars, auto-harps, bells, shakINTERVIEWS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

ers, violins, viola… all manner of things.” Rather than chance to ask what an auto-harp is, by this point I’m genuinely in awe of the enthusiasm Adem holds for his music (he is never just excited about something, or even ‘really’ excited, but always “really, really” excited), which spills over into another passion of his, the Homefires festival that runs over two days in London’s Conway Hall.

But before getting to that, I am keen to see what he makes of the ‘folk-tronica’ tag that he is so often labelled with (for better or worse, even at the start of this feature): “It’s a bizarre one isn’t it? New-folk, old-folk, anti-folk, freak-folk… I don’t know. I don’t have much time for labels to be honest. It makes it easy for people to know what to buy sometimes. I think the problem with this kind of music is that when people describe it they’re not particularly clear about what they mean – it’s definitely not ‘folk’ as such, but is it ‘new-folk’? The singer James Yorkston says – it’s a dirty word – but he thinks that we’re all singer-songwriters. And I think he might be right.”

So then, what of the Homefires festival? “Basically, it’s an excuse for me to watch all the bands that I’m really into – all in one go – and at the same time give other people an opportunity to hear the music I’m loving.” I can’t help but splutter out “that’s pretty cool” round about here. “Yeah,” Adem replies, “it’s great. I always try and think of myself as a kid, and think what I would have liked to have seen or liked to have done, and try and make it affordable and all this sort of stuff ’cause… that’s important to me.” It’s commendable stuff, indeed.

Our interview nears its end with the

Homefires: the best festival you’ve never heard of

- It has helped break acts such as José Gonzalez and Willy Mason in this country - Badly Drawn Boy’s set last year was a spoken-word performance with added flutes - Featuring this year is Pierre Bastien, a ‘mechanical composer’ who builds instrument-playing robots that surround him as he conducts. Cool? Or a little sad?

- Isobel Campbell, Vashti Bunyan and ex-Delgado Emma Pollock are also on the bill - June 3-4, tickets £20 each happy revelation that he and former bandmates, Kieran Hebden and Sam Jeffers, have reunited, with prospective new Fridge material out early next year. How does he feel about this?

“

“Basically, it’s an excuse for me to watch all the bands that I’m really into - all in one go” on the Homefires festival

“Really, really excited. It’s sounding great, and it’s been an absolute joy to hang out with my mates again.” (The three began making music at school together.) “We’ve all been so busy that having something like this is just a reason to get together and have some fun. All three of us have been totally off the map, so it’s been fantastic.”

Adem’s UK tour rolls into Cardiff on May 17, destination: Glee Club

BADLY DRAWN BOY: “What, smoking isn’t cool? Yeah, right. No no, I believe you. Honest.”

ELEVEN

QUENCH MAGAZINE FEATURES

Dear diary: jackpot

Photo: Harry Rose

Cheltenham Festival

Harry Rose spends a day accompanying casual gambler extraordinaire, EJ Price, around the Cheltenham Festival...

T

he train fills with an unusual mix of tweed-clad CountrysideAlliance types and Valley wide-boys. Off to the gee-gees.

There’s a paradox with horse racing fans: on one level Britain’s class-riddled society is reflected perfectly – from the toffs who train up the horses and pop the champagne corks, to those greasy, and slightly nervous looking men you get in the bookies in the middle of the afternoon – and, on another level, well, for what other kind of sporting event would you attract both Burberry-wearing middle-aged couples from Surrey and Burberrywearing Jack-the-lads from Swansea?

Horse racing, it seems, both reflects and dismantles Britain’s divisions at the same time.

Or so I rather pretentiously suppose, sitting on the train.

A loud middle-aged man at the end of the carriage shouts into a mobile phone. He’s talking to a bookmaker who, he enthusiastically tells his

TWELVE

friend, is paying out on top five finishes (which, I later learn, is quite rare).

He’s putting £100 each way on a horse with an incomprehensible French name in the 2.35. At the other end of the carriage some men – embracing all the hallmarks of lad tedium – play poker and drink beer.

“

Price’s enthusiasm is quite something to behold; his face like that of a schoolgirl off to see the Beatles The Cheltenham festival is a big deal for racing fans. Typical is Emyr J Price, casual gambler and Cardiff criminology student: “It’s national hunt racing’s equivalent to the Olympics or World Cup,” he says.

From a betting perspective “backing a winner at the festival is to solve the ultimate puzzle – more satisfying than backing any number of winners any-

where else.” Price’s enthusiasm is quite something to behold; his face like that of a schoolgirl off to see the Beatles at Shea Stadium.

What he seems most excited about is the gambling. Up against online poker, Deal or No Deal, and those late-night cons on ITV2, there’s something refreshingly old-fashioned and proper about betting on horses. No doubt it ruins countless lives and everything, and to over-romanticise it would be a bit crass, but, come on, when the lottery – essentially a voluntary tax on the innumerate – is the height of Saturday night respectability, there’s something to be said for the sport of kings.

We arrive at the course and there’s some serious research to be done. We decamp to an enormous beer tent with the Racing Post. My traditional Grand National tactic of picking the horse with the most interesting name is dismissed early on as ‘foolish’.

FEATURES@GAIRRHYDD.COM

FEATURES QUENCH MAGAZINE

How To Bet

E J Price

--- Horses For Courses. When

punting, look for horses with good form on that particular course.

--- Current Form. It’s best to back a horse with good recent form, rather than banking on a different horse ‘bouncing back’.

--- Trainer - Jockey Combos.

Certain combinations have unusually high strike rates.

Worth checking out.

Photo: Harry Rose

--- The Going. Some horses prefer soft, others fast ground.

Do the research.

Lots to consider: age of horse, recent form, recent form at Cheltenham, conditions, characteristics of previous winners, odds, jockeys – all quite tricky.

Notes made, bets placed, positions assumed. Price promptly wins £60 on the first race – Nicanor at 17-2. Piece of piss, apparently. Our suits render us somewhat overdressed in the

Money to burn --- 16 - 1. Ruud van Nistelrooy to be top scorer at the 2006 World Cup. --- 9 - 2. England to lose in the semi-finals of said tournament.

--- Handicaps. If a horse is ‘well in’ at the weights it has a better chance of winning.

Keep In mind. cheap seats – it seams my earlier speculation about egalitarianism in racing was a bit premature. There are plenty of executive box-style balconies and the Best Mate Enclosure is about as far away from them as you can get; the finishing straights acting as a kind of literal class divide. Still, for an extra £30 the divide can be crossed, and with the gambling market here dictating a kind of hyper-inflation, thirty quid isn’t much.

Price curses the Racing Post after failure in the next two races. This, he reasons, is inevitable – the horses here are the best, the fields big, the course hard – it’s tough to win here.

He then works his way back to a profit with each way bets on horses that fin-

ish second and third. His day ends a relative success. Me? I won fuck all.

The influx of drunk Irishmen must, presumably, be a bit startling for the locals. We join the Irish in several poky downtown Cheltenham pubs.

It’s all sing-songs, Guinness and falling over – as predictable as, well, the English in Dublin, though no doubt friendlier. Frank, one of our new Irish mates has, like me, won nothing all day, and he’s pessimistic for the rest of the week. He’ll be back next year, however, and so, we agree, will we. *Emyr J Price would later back winners in the Cheltenham Gold Cup and Grand National. *The loud man on the train’s French horse finished near the back.

--- 9 - 2. England and Australia draw the 2006 Ashes.

--- 25 - 1. Tony Blair will still be Prime Minister from 2010 or later.

--- 7 - 1. Barcelona to beat Arsenal 2-0 in the Champions League Final.

FEATURES@GAIRRHYDD.COM

Photo: E. J. Price.

--- 6 - 1. John McCain to be the next President of the United States.

Harry Rose THIRTEEN

QUENCH MAGAZINE FEATURES

A marathon journey

Braving blisters, hail-storms and men dressed as rhinos, Helen Thompson discovers the determination it takes to run a marathon

T

he marathon is so called due to the myth that an Athenian messenger ran the 25-mile distance from Marathon to Athens to give warning of the imminent invasion of the Persians, and then promptly died.

Due to the 100% fatality rate of that run, 2,500 years ago, it would seem a masochistic sport to take up as a hobby. However, the marathon is now not only the longest professional track race, but also tests the endurance of thousands of amateur road-runners worldwide.

Since its mythical beginnings, the number of casualties incurred in the race has dropped considerably, with just eight fatalities from 430,000 runners in London’s Marathon history.

Quiet Saturdays in Talybont halls are a dangerous thing - you never know what could happen; through lack of other entertainment, my house-

Training Diary OCTOBER

1 I’m standing at the beginning of my first run of six months’ training that will culminate with a marathon run. I’m reluctant to begin because I’ll probably be out of breath within five minutes. I don’t even know if I’m going to make it to Bute Park, let alone through months of running four times, and covering up to 35 miles, each week.

14 I can now run about five miles.

I’m trying to focus on the fact that each week is only a small increase in difficulty, rather than on the fact that I will have to run over five times this distance that I’m currently able to.

NOVEMBER

I want an iPod for Christmas; at the moment I spend my runs repeating whatever’s stuck in my head, and eight miles of M People’s Moving On Up is no joke. I train alone because I like to have the freedom to go at my own, quite slow, pace. Training involves three short runs and one long run per week. This includes speed sessions, hill runs and threshold runs, which push your heart rate past your comfort zone, increase your FORTEEN

THE LONDON MARATHON: Run for your lives mate decided to enter the London marathon in order to raise money for Cancer Research. He asked if anyone wanted to be his training buddy, and, being the suggestible person that I am, I applied online with him. A couple of months later, our post-box harboured an acceptance and a rejec-

tion: I was in, and running on my own.

Due to usual first year activities such as sleeping and drinking, I didn’t do enough training and deferred my place until 2006. Returning to Cardiff after summer, a year wiser and with strengthened resolve, I began my training.

tolerance of lactic acid and your leg turnover. I hate these, as I have to put in the extra effort to increase my fitness.

My diet now resembles that of an Olympic swimmer - I’ve never eaten so many carbohydrates in my life. I’m not losing weight because I’m enjoying being able to eat whatever I want.

I’ve finally chosen to run for ActionAid, and told everyone that I’m running the marathon. I always see so many people running for first-world charities such as Cancer Research, so instead I want to raise money for people who’ve never experienced the quality of life that most of those in the West enjoy.

DECEMBER

FEBRUARY

4 I finished my 11-mile run along the Taff trail on a high today. For the first time, I feel like I might actually be able to run this marathon.

Previously I’ve been doing my long runs without any sustenance, which means that by the time I’ve run four miles, I’ve burnt more calories than I’ve consumed that day. Today I took a Lucozade energy gel sachet - definitely worth doing - it makes such a difference to my energy levels.

JANUARY

9 Serious setback: I dislocated my kneecap snowboarding this week.

This is the sixth time I’ve dislocated it; it hurts less each time, but it still swells, and makes running temporarily impossible. I should have stuck to skiing.

27 Just attempted my first long run since my injury; my knee felt fine, so

8 Brisk weather for running today: It started hailing at the seven-mile point. Then it stopped hailing and started snowing. Not even running could keep me warm in my tiny top, and I still had nine miles to go. By the time I got home I was bright pink and attracting some stunned looks.

Some days it’s hard to persuade myself to run. Rain’s okay, but strong winds are exhausting. Even on a day like today, I never let myself miss a long run, because I don’t have time to reschedule, and it would put my training a week behind.

26 Balancing fundraising and training isn’t always easy; I forsook my run today to prepare for Global Village. I’ve spent loads of time recently thinking up fundraising ideas, but it’s paying off, as my total is rising towards the £1,500 target.

FEATURES@GAIRRHYDD.COM

FEATURES QUENCH MAGAZINE

RACE DAY

ABOVE: The pros get off to a quick start RIGHT: Running in an antique diving suit - easier said than done

MARCH

3 Injured again: I pulled a tendon in my foot playing squash. It feels like my foot’s ripping down the middle every time I walk. I’m adopting the RICE regime - rest, ice, compression, elevation - and will have to make do with cycling this week. I’m hoping it will heal before the Silverstone halfmarathon on March 19.

21 Two days ago, I ran the half marathon in 2:00:45. It was good practice for London, as I’ve no previous experience of running a proper race. I was much faster than in training, and ran the distance without stopping to walk - which I never usually manage. My foot was fine, even though it was swollen until the day before. Afterwards, I idiotically drove 200 miles home. I’ve been so stiff ever since that I’ve hardly been able to walk, and I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my hip. I’m plagued by injuries now that I’m near the end of my training. It seems to be an occupational hazard, and the risk increases with the number of miles you cover per week.

29 I’ve just finished my last long run before the marathon, a very slow 21 miles, as my legs were still in agony. Running on legs that have not recovered from a previous run is like FEATURES@GAIRRHYDD.COM

running with needles in your muscles.

I usually can’t run more than a few steps the day after a long run. Now I’ve got a three-week wind-down period before the race, so my legs should be fine for the day.

APRIL

19 I can’t help wondering what breed of blind optimism led me into this ridiculous folly. In four days I’m meant to be running a marathon. I went jogging for 30 minutes today, couldn’t keep up with my sister, and aggravated my hip injury. Although I’m terrified, I’m being sponsored over £2,000 to do this. It’s ridiculous to have spent so much time training, and feel so unprepared. I feel like I dreamt all those 15-mile runs.

22 I’ve just registered for the marathon, collecting my running number (23304), kitbag and ChampionChip that will record my time from my shoelace. I’m now putting my feet up and irritating my sister by saying “I’m going to die” every five minutes. My hip feels better and I’m walking more normally than I have for months. The hotel’s set to feed me pasta tonight and porridge at six in the morning.

All that remains is to get a good night’s sleep.

8.45 - One hour until the start gun, and I’m stuck on a crowded tube near Blackheath. It’s drizzling, which is certainly better than sunshine.

9.20 - Finally at the start, drugging myself up on paracetemol. Around me people don black bags for warmth and plaster their nipples to prevent chafing. I make sure I’ve got my inhaler, and join the loo queue.

9.55 - Late again! I’m right at the back with the fun-runners, luminous elephants and men in tutus, as we surge towards the start line. The pace is slow as we cross the start, and soon we are walking again as the street gets jammed.

10.30 - Although it’s early on a grey Sunday morning, London’s residents don’t let us down. The streets are lined; children hold out their hands to slap and bands play on roof tops.

11.50 - We make it across Tower Bridge, which is distressingly uphill.

The next balloon-covered mile marker will show 13 miles: half-way through the race, and I still feel fine.

13.05 - I think I’ve just hit the legendary ‘wall’ at 18.5 miles. Stopped to walk for the first time, and have started treating myself like a child: ‘Look at the pretty banners and all the nice people here to support you.’

13.55 - We’re on the home stretch.

My legs won’t move faster than a slow jog. An elephant just overtook me. The crowd holds out hand-fulls of sweets, while I desperately look for Lucozade. My emotions swing between elation at getting this far and distress that I’m not on target for my time of 4:30:00.

14.38 - Finally, St James’ Park. We wave at the TV cameras, and hear the satisfying beep of our chips as our feet fall onto the finish line.

Runners limp into lines to collect medals. I notice that I’ve got blisters, and that my underarms are cut to pieces by my running vest.

Shivering but happy, I drag my heavy legs towards the ActionAid reception for a well-deserved massage.

25th April Yesterday, I could hardly walk. Everything hurt except my right arm. Occasionally I find myself getting emotional when I realise that the marathon’s over; it dominated my life for six months, and now all the anticipation is over. Still, I’m proud that I finished it in 4:43:58, beating Steve Redgrave by a good 45 minutes, and I didn’t get overtaken by a rhino.

FIFTEEN

QUENCH MAGAZINE FASHION

E L B A T I R A CH HION S A F Can you really dress for pennies? Brodie Lyon and Laura Horton take on the charity shop challenge

L

ife’s tough on a student budget, especially in the long gap between loan cheques, but as fashion conscious money savvy individuals where are we to turn?

The high street poses a number of problems: it can be too expensive, a bit boring, and often unethical. With fashion’s 80s revival, second hand shops come with a plethora of decent, cheap and highly individual clothes to satisfy any taste, and what’s better, it’s all in the name of charity.

Cardiff is home to a wide variety of second hand shops each with their own individual charm and appeal. It’s easy to get put off, it can be hard to find something specific and there is stigma attached to second-hand clothes, but this we feel is unfounded, all clothes are cleaned and steamed, and some are even brand new, tags and all. Charity shopping requires a

-

CLOTHES RAIL: Searching required SIXTEEN

different approach to that used on the High street. Instead of looking for something specific you’re better off keeping an open mind.

A noticeable theme for the catwalk of spring/summer ‘06, are polka dots and bright prints. On the high street you would be looking to pay anything up to £100 for a decent statement piece, and although places like Primark are cheap you can expect a dozen other people to be wearing exactly the same.

Clothes are donated to charity shops from a wide demographic of people and this means that there are usually clothes to suit every taste. A quick pop into PDSA and we managed to find at least four highly different interpretations of the polka-dot look.

This is the beauty of charity shopping: no other person will be wandering around in your clothes.

Another benefit to charity shopping FASHION@GAIRRHYDD.COM

FASHION QUENCH MAGAZINE are the designer gems that can occasionally be found. We won’t lie, this does require some hunting, but if it saves you hundreds then it’s well worth it. We have found some treasures of our own: a beautifully tailored red Yves Saint Laurent jacket for £15, a green woollen Harrods scarf, and a golden one for 20p and £1.50 respectively, and three Jaeger jackets for £2 each. It doesn’t take long for the savings to add up.

But what’s a dress without good accessories? Every outfit needs something; a classy handbag, some garish tacky beads, or outrageous shoes. On the counter of every charity shop can be found a wide array of jewellery, ranging from tacky glam to the more classic, and all are cheap and affordable. It is far easier to be experimental with your look when you’re paying 20p as opposed to £5 plus. It doesn’t matter if you only wear something once and then donate it back, at least you tried it and who knows it may be the look for you.

While fashions on the high street change every few weeks you can visit the same second-hand shop every day for a week and every day it will hold a veritable feast of fashions, from 50s rockabilly to 70s boho. People donate their clothes everyday, and sometimes if your lucky the staff may even let you have a look out the back to sift through what hasn’t been displayed.

It’s worth getting to know your charity shop volunteers as they’ll let you know when new stock gets put out.

It’s also worth putting the feelers out when there is something specific you want, they may not have it in stock but they will let you know if anything like it comes in. The key to successful second hand shopping is to be nice and friendly.

So now we’ve convinced you, where do you go? Albany Road boasts the widest variety of second-hand shops, and an afternoon can easily be spent hunting through them. Crwys Road has a couple, one with an amazing bad-taste room and an antique shop, which occasionally sells jewellery.

Whitchurch Road has one with a great pound rail. Canton is a bit of a trek but is well worth it. Our personal

FASHION@GAIRRHYDD.COM

favourite is Jacob’s market, which is only open Wednesday to Saturday, but which hosts some slightly more pricey but beautiful dresses and vintage accessories. It’s worth noting that most charity shops close at four. So expand your minds, liberate your wallets and head down to your local charity shop.

Vintage Hotspot: Jacob’s Market Jacob’s market is the true Aladdin’s cave of Cardiff. Situated at the Bay end of St. Mary’s street; it’s a warehouse of gargantuan proportions, with amazing finds to be had on all three floors. Their wares range from vintage bric-a-brac to records and from army surplus/memorabilia to a selection of awesome vintage clothing to rival any catwalk/dressing up box. Prices can be a bit on the steep side as the traders are trying to make a living, but that said they’re always open to a haggle.

Jacob’s is open from Friday to Saturday, but your best bet is to head down on the Saturday as that’s when most of the traders are around and the best deals can be mustered. Contact Jacob’s market on: 029 2039 0939 for more information.

LITTLE BLACK BOOK Oxfam: 28 Albany Road.

02920 494781 Save the Children: 44 Albany Road. 02920 462282 SCOPE: 26 Albany Road.

02920 484503 Age Concern: 13 Whitchurch Road. 02920 620992

SEVENTEEN

QUENCH MAGAZINE TRAVEL

Armed with marker pens and cardboard, Cardiff students took to the streets, hitchhiking all in the name of charity

O C C O R MO C

ardiff’s streets were lined by students with their thumbs out on March 31, as 48 adventurous (some would say insane) hitchhikers set off on the journey across a continent to Morocco.

In twos and threes they accosted drivers throughout Britain, France

Story Sam + Anna`s

and Spain in the name of charity Link Community Development.

They joined a further 642 British students, each required to raise at least £300 in a countrywide bid to raise £200,000 for the charity’s work on education in Africa.

Anticipating hours of exposure to the elements, sleeping rough and

great sense of freedom. The drivers will smile, frown or even apologise for not picking you up. Some chavs usually whizz by and give you the ake yourself look harmmiddle finger. less, perhaps a little Then time starts to trickgeeky, hold up a le by with no offers and pretty sign and hitching it’s easy to lose patience. can be easy. Having a At the point when I’m on girl by your side is also a the verge of tearing up bonus. the sign, a lift usually We made it in 78 hours.

MORROCCO: Two arrives. Then the exciteThat’s a mere 76 hours hours by plane ment is back, you are on the more than a plane ride road again and about to get into which we got to spend hanging a car with a complete stranger. out with odd and eccentric lorry I love that feeling. drivers.

Sam Smith The hardest part of the journey for us was getting out of Wales. Our first lift took us to a horrible junction just outside Newport where we were accompanied by dark clouds bursting with rain and thunder.

To arrive at the Portsmouth ferry port on time, we took a train from Newport and befriended the conductor so we could ride for free.

Two big lifts took us through France and most of Spain. We spent the nights in with the truck drivers, squashed up on their sofa-type beds, too hot and uncomfortable to sleep properly.

At the weekends in France and Spain there are restrictions on driving lorries, which was a welcome relief as we were tired of them. Our remaining eight lifts were in cars.

Hitchhiking is certainly a test of patience. For me, things always kick off in good spirits. Being on the road with only a vague destination brings a

M

EIGHTEEN

grappling with language barriers, the intrepid students held up their signs and set off down the M4.

`s Story Helen + George

W

e’ll be there by Sunday, we joked as we lugged our stuff towards the M4 on Thursday afternoon.

Disbelieving our optimism, we held up our whiteboard for the first time of many - and were on our way towards London in minutes.

Proving the unpredictability of hitchhiking, we made it to Portsmouth three hours early for our ferry, while others got truly stuck in Newport and missed the crossing.

After a sleepless night on the ferry, Terry the tramp gave us our first lift in France. I initially thought he was joking that he even owned a car, due to his unkempt appearance, but he was the only person to agree to give us a lift from the ferry. I dutifully crammed myself into the backseat with all of Terry’s worldly belongings, as he had decided to move to France on a whim.

Travelling south, we got to Bordeaux before evening without much problem, and as the light faded, a Portuguese lorry driver stopped and offered us a lift all the way into Spain. Even though he was swilling cider and throwing nuts out of the window, we shrugged and climbed into the cab, committing ourselves to several hours of confusing conversation in a mixture of languages we couldn’t speak.

Too lazy to carry a tent, we slept on a groundsheet in a service station while our driver stayed in his cab.

TRAVEL@GAIRRHYDD.COM

TRAVEL QUENCH MAGAZINE The morning drive took us across the top of Spain to Burgos, where we left our crazy lorry driver. Hitchhiking in Spain was considerably warmer and therefore more pleasant, making us less prone to the hitch-rage that can suddenly take hold when you’ve been at the side of the same road for hours.

The Spanish can be quite incredulous that you’re hitching through Spain if you are unable to speak Spanish, but most people are polite to hitchers, allowing an apologetic shrug if their car’s full or they’re going the wrong way.

We made it to beautiful Salamanca slowly, but our luck struck again just as we were giving up hope in the evening, when a man with a backseat full of lampstands offered us a lift to Seville.

We arrived at 3am, and, unsure what to do with ourselves at this time of night, found some abandoned grassland and set up camp.

We awoke to find ourselves surrounded by slugs, and beat a hasty retreat to the edge of the city to start hitching again.

A couple of guys picked us up on their way to Cadiz and took us to a village festival where the streets were filled with tents selling Serrano ham, barrelled port and plates of traditional food for 50 cents. Unfortunately, after

TRAVEL@GAIRRHYDD.COM

these festivities they dumped us, slightly drunk and sunburnt, on a terrible road, obliging us to get a taxi elsewhere.

Finally we were in our last lift, still finding slugs in our backpacks, on the way to Algeciras – and it was only Sunday evening.

HIKING: It’s a game of patience

Helen Thompson

Story Chris + Will`s

A

fter six days of singing, smiling, crying and indecent exposure we finally arrived in Morocco.

From my experience of hitching, it could never be described as routine.

My hitching partner, Will, commented: “swings ‘n’ roundabouts innit!” about 183 times on the trip.

We started in Le Harve where the ferry dropped us off. It didn’t take long before we were getting into our first car. We sat, cross-legged in a middle-aged woman’s car boot and glanced at each other with grins of satisfaction. It had begun, we were finally hitching.

The next stop was not quite so easy. We stood in the rain trying to get picked up for over three hours.

France proved to be a fantastic location for hitchhiking. We never had to wait more than about three hours for a lift and the hospitality we received was incredible.

On one occasion we were invited back for dinner by a 24-year-old car seller who was driving us to Bordeaux. We were served roast duck by his wife and sat and watched Bruce Lee films.

Spain was spectacular, we travelled along winding motorway through the green and mountainous regions of the north.

One highlight was the stunning service station in a grey industrial estate south of Madrid. With its over-priced food, hospitable cold floor (perfect for laying your sleeping bag out on) and extremely reluctant lorry drivers it was a favourite location of ours. Spain proved to be a harder place to hitch.

We ended waiting to be picked up for around six hours on two occasions, but you know, “swings ‘n’ roundabouts innit!”

So after six days of hitching, do me and my hitching partner Will still like each other? Will we ever go hitchhiking again? Was it worth it and would I recommend hitchhiking to anyone else? Well, in reply to the last three questions anyway, the answer is yes!

Hitchhiking provides a new level of unpredictability, it allows you to meet people you would never normally meet and see places you may have overlooked or missed entirely if travelling on public transport.

Chris Rogers

NINETEEN

QUENCH MAGAZINE TRAVEL

M A D R E AMST

tin`s Story Jesse + Mar

A

s I left the house on a dark Monday morning I began to question whether this hitchhike to Amsterdam was the best idea I’d ever had. My uncertainty was heavily influenced by the chicken and Donnie Darko bunny (rival hitchhikers), who accompanied my dressing gown-clad self to the starting point at Tesco.

Much to my disappointment the chicken and bunny team got picked up immediately and taken straight to Reading. Leaving me and Martin the cowboy (my hiking partner) cursing – I had a round of expensive Amsterdam beers riding on who got there first.

We managed to get our first lift at some traffic lights from a surprised looking woman called Marion on her way to work at B&Q. She had never picked up hitchhikers before, but told us we didn’t look like the types to beat or rob her, we took this as a compliment.

Stuck at B&Q on the outskirts of Cardiff we got lucky as Clive the white van man took us out of his way to Newport.

While hanging around the service station in search of the next lift I found myself three feet away from Prince William and the rest of the Sandhurst Academy. Photographic evidence was denied on account of a (possibly armed) MI6 man employed purely to protect him from idiots like charity hitchhikers!

After the excitement we quickly convinced a lorry driver to take us to Swindon, stopping only for Martin to expose himself to a coach of school

Would you pick up this bunny?

TWENTY

girls before moving on to Reading.

From there we hoped to make it straight to Dover but the best we could do was another lorry to the M25.

Dropped just south of London by about 1pm we were making good time, but things were FINAL DESTINATION: about to get more tricky.

Amsterdam A doddering old couple in a camper van offered to give us a lift but returning at the arranged time we found they had abandoned us. Old People eh? After more waiting we waved down a Hungarian lorry driver to take us to Dover and despite his lack of English and horrendous BO we were more than grateful. By this point the bunny This guy didn’t offer a lift - cheek pay (they and the chicken were already on the are still waitferry to France. ing). On the Dutch side they were We cracked open a beer in Dover more than happy to take a bar of ferry terminal with some fellow hikDairy Milk as payment. We arrived in ers, and got on the 5.30 ferry to Amsterdam happy, at 6pm, 36 hours Calais. after leaving Cardiff.

Trawling the ferry for lifts we met a Jesse Scharf couple of English squaddies returning to Germany who put us in the back with their kit and sped along to Brussels in just a few hours.

By this time it was late so we decided to see what Brussels had to offer, made some friends with a group of students from Luxembourg and settled down for a few beers.

Waking up with only the smallest of hangovers we walked to the edge of the city in search of the mystical Brussels ring road, along the way picking up the third member of our team, Pepper the rabbit, from a fast food outlet.

Spending hours on the side of the road being sworn at occasionally by unfriendly Belgians wore us down so we admitted defeat and headed for the train station.

Determined not to pay for any transport we played the charity card to some unimpressed train conductors who agreed to give us a bill and two weeks to

TRAVEL@GAIRRHYDD.COM

E U G A PR arah`s Si + Andy + S Story

O

Sunday and it’s illegal for most lorries to drive in France on a Sunday.

However, due to the combination of a small miracle, some confusion and our youthful desperation we manage to coax a lift to Germany from a Polish lorry driver, who dropped us off at the border. At another truck stop. Where we get stuck for another night.

Alright, fast-forward 48 hours more.

We’re very near the Czech border somewhere in Bavaria, the home stretch if you will. Suffice to say, crossing Germany was a struggle but we managed it, spending two more nights rough on the way as well as meeting several other

kay, I feel I need to set the scene a little. It’s 8am and the third morning we’ve been hitching, that’s just over 48 hours we’ve been on the road, of which only five hours have been spent actually in any mode of transport.

We’re in Calais, as we have been for 24 hours now. Yesterday was a day of standing on the road side as hundreds of holiday makers poured off the ferries from Dover and drove past us with a smile and a little chuckle, or a shake of the head or, most commonly, no reaction at all.

During the day we became less and less optimistic, gradually changing You’d think that one of from a hopeful request these cars might offer a lift. to take us to Germany, into a desperate plea to drive us ‘charity-hitchanywhere that was not Calais. ers’ and getting Eventually we started walking, into one or two sketchy situations, which gets us to a truck stop a mile but we managed it. or two down the road, where we then We’re stood at probably the loneligot stuck for the night. est services I’ve ever seen and hardly With no idea of which direction to any traffic is passing us, it’s getting find a hostel, we made our way into dark, there’s nowhere to sleep and the service station bar, which is the sky is threatening rain or even packed with truckers. snow.

After a lot of fruitless networking a Then, thank god, a car slows down kindly Spanish lorry driver takes pity and stops next to us, yet our hope is on us and offers to let us sleep in misplaced. It’s the police. the freezer compartment of his truck, Our passports are checked and an which is, depressingly, our best and extensive search entails (they won’t only option for the night. So I spend believe that we’re not carrying drugs.) another night roughing it (the previous An hour later a second set of police night was spent in the entrance of a arrive, due to an apparent lack of services on the M25). communication the procedure is Laying on a cold metal floor in my repeated. It gets dark; Prague sudsleeping bag I began to contemplate denly seems much further away. We how many times easyjet would have give up and change our sign to and flown to Prague from the UK since get to the nearest train station and we’ve been hitching. reach some civilisation, another night So, it’s the morning after and our roughing it is, by this time, unthinkoutlook is bleak, due to the fact that, able. we’re hitching in a three, and none of A car pulls over and without hesitathe multitude of lorries around us are tion we jump in. As we pull away we willing to take three passengers due explain our situation to the driver. He to it being illegal and also it’s a

TRAVEL@GAIRRHYDD.COM

TRAVEL QUENCH MAGAZINE

How long would it take? doesn’t think there are any trains running, this could be a problem.

There’s a long silence. “I have an idea,” suggests our saviour of a driver, “I need to drive through the Czech Republic tomorrow, I’ll drop you in Prague and find you somewhere to stay tonight.” One hour and several of the best beers I’ve ever tasted later we’re in a brilliantly friendly and cheap B&B in the Bavarian countryside.

After the best night’s sleep of my life we’re driven to Prague the next morning (via a tour of the largest brewery in the Czech Republic.) Any bad memories of the previous five days are completely reduced to a mere footnote of a great trip.

Needless to say hitchhiking rules.

Si Truss

For exclusive online Travel articles visit: http://quench.gairrhydd.com/ TWENTYONE

QUENCH MAGAZINE FOOD

FANCY N A FRY UP?

Sian Hughes searches for the ultimate Cardiff breakfast experience

Cafe 37

ew to Cathays this academic year, this new kid on the cafe block provides a range of breakfasts for all you hungry people out there.

From a simple poached egg on toast to the somewhat more epic Café 37 Breakfast.

The food is always served by friendly and welcoming staff in a stylish and modern interior.

You’ll find Café 37 at, unsurprisingly, number 37 on Salisbury Road, right in litter-strewn beating heart of studentville.

Rating: 4/5 Cafe brekkie

Hoffi Coffee

A

Hoffi brekkie

little gem on Woodville Road, Hoffi Coffee is a firm favorite with everyone who passes through the door.

The range of baguettes, homecooked meals and cakes are great, but it’s the breakfasts that form the icing on the cake.

From beans on toast to a big Hoffi breakfast, there’s even a veggie option, all for student discount.

The interior is unique to Cardiff, with a big airy conservatory and sofas to relax.

This is all combined with friendly and inviting service.

Rating: 5/5

Ramon’s

W

ith its friendly staff, Ramon’s offers a range of greasy breakfasts at bargain prices.

Starting from a simple and light fry up all the way up to the infamous ‘belly buster breakfast.’ This monster breakfast is a challenge for even the biggest of appetites.

You will not need or desire to eat for another 24 hours! Ramon’s provides the weary workman, or us hung over students the perfect fry up.

In, shall we say - more modest surroundings.

You’ll find Ramon’s on Salisbury Road accross the road form Café 37.

Rating: 2/5

TWENTYTWO

TASTY:Ramy brekkie FOOD@GAIRRHYDD.COM

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REVIEWS QUENCH MAGAZINE

IN REVIEWS THIS WEEK

!"Mighty Boosh in Arts !"Music take to the streets of Camden, and warm " Digital’s full of aggro in a war-game bonanaza ! up to the Flaming Lips !" !" Books take to the road with offerings on Scotland, Africa and, er, The " Film get all celebratory with Confetti and Magician’s !" " The Winchester !"

Libertines steal more column inches, this time in Backchat

CELL Stephen King Hodder

Stephen King is on familiar territory here as mobile phones trigger a worldwide, zombie-fuelled apocalypse

w Reviehe Of T k Wee

I

t’s hard to know where to start when you’re reviewing the latest book by Stephen King. This is, after all, the ‘bestselling author of the TV generation’, writer of around 40 novels and an inordinate amount of short stories, whose name comes replete with countless preconceptions; he is, as many ‘serious’ literature fans might like to point out, kinda trashy.

But I digress; while never likely to be considered the next Dickens, to criticise King for his lack of literary credentials is to miss the point. He deals in entertainment, pure and simple, but often reveals more heart, talent and storytelling ability than many more ‘literary’ writers can claim to possess, no matter how eloquently they can deliberate the finer points of Tolstoy. And hell, being popular doesn’t immediately make you rubbish. I present to you: The Simpsons, the Beatles, cheese sandwiches, cups of tea, that Gnarls Barkley tune, Pirates of the Caribbean… I could go on.

Anyway! The book. Cell sees King once again explore the same kind of post-apocalyptic scenario he did with The Stand, but where that book sprawled over a 1000 pages, this weighs in at a relatively compact 399.

Our hero is one Clayton Riddell, who finds himself in Boston as the world falls to pieces around him. The premise of this book is devilishly simple; a massively powerful ‘pulse’ is triggered onto every mobile (or ‘cell’) phone in the world, immediately causing those in close proximity to one to regress to aggressive, zom-

BOOKS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

“

King often reveals more heart, talent and storytelling ability than many ‘literary’ writers possess bie-like beings. And of course, when the shit hits the fan, what are you going to do? Call your loved ones, resulting in mass mobile phone generated chaos.

King plays on fears surrounding our accelerating dependence on technology and explores the basic Freudian concept of the ‘id’ with no little intelligence, and his zombie-like creations

ZOMBIES: King pays homage to Romero’s cinematic icons

KING-O: What is he thinking? (‘phoners’) are unique in their flocking tendencies. His band of survivors are well-drawn and wholly believable given their situation, and although gratuitous, the violence present always exists as a means of furthering the narrative (unexpectedly movingly, in one instance).

His prose too, is fluid and engaging; the prologue in particular is somehow both sensational and understated, as King paints a picture of civilisation slipping into its “second dark age on an unsurprising track of blood, but with a speed that could not have been foreseen by even the most pessimistic futurist.”

There is a sense that he is also paying homage to his heroes here.

The book is dedicated to cult horror luminaries Richard Matheson and George A Romero, whose influences shine through in many aspects of this novel.

Cell is King on top of his game, playfully utilising all the tricks he has amassed over years to create a snapshot of a paranoid, technologydependent world, where survival soon becomes the order of the day, and the boundaries separating good and evil are soon clouded. It’s not about to change your life, but for a little while at least, it promises to make it a whole lot more enjoyable.

7/10 James Skinner TWENTYFIVE

QUENCH MAGAZINE BOOKS

BOOKS YEAH?

A host of treats in Books for you this week: we go zombie-crazy with Stephen King’s latest, Cell and Shaun of the Dead, the wonderful Dave Eggers is glowingly reviewed below, and Daisy Beare takes on Simon Ings’s The Weight of Numbers. Elsewhere: we tame beasts, explore Africa and consider three of Scotland’s finest writers in One City. Check out Competitions for a fantastic Eggers giveaway. Word.

HOW WE ARE HUNGRY Dave Eggers

PYRAMIDS: Three of them

Penguin

Virtuoso short stories from Books’ favourite Eggers.

Awesome stuff HOW WE ARE HUNGRY is Eggers’s first collected short stories, and beautifully presented and typeset it is too.

The fifteen here range from those of the ‘short-short’ variety that appeared in the Guardian last year through longer tomes such as Another, where a disenfranchised American courier befriends a local tour guide (cue galloping from pyramid to pyramid together), and Climbing to the Window, Pretending to Dance, where a young man named Fish drives across America to meet his cousin, who has just survived his seventh suicide attempt.

Although these may suggest fairly standard outlines, this collection is elevated far above most simply due to Eggers’s dazzling wordplay, and the original interjections he makes into the stories. For instance, Quiet opens and closes as a young man discusses his lovelorn plight with “the nickly shimmer of the moon on a black lake on the Isle of Skye”and the description and flow of the laugh-out-loud funny After I Was Thrown in the River

TAMING THE BEAST Emily Maguire Serpent’s Tail

Debut novel from Australian journalist, a violent and morally dubious romance IF YOU’RE LOOKING for a dainty, cute love story then this is far from it.

This novel reeks of betrayal, lust, love, despair, guilt and pretty much every other dark emotion there is.

TWENTYSIX

and Before I Drowned is transcendent, impeccably capturing the essence of its canine narrator: “Oh I’m a fast dog. I’m fast-fast. It’s true and I love being fast I admit it I love it.”

“

One of the great American authors of our generation... talented and defiantly humane A passion for language, human relationships and the world around us is evident throughout, and this is brought to the fore in the outstanding The Only Meaning of the Oil-Wet Water, which features Pilar and Hand, characters who first appeared in his novel You Shall Know Our Velocity. They spend a week in Costa Rica, two unattached old friends who surf, sleep, and drink Fanta on the beach togethTo say the story is graphic is an understatement, as every detail of dark sex and heartache is described in the most explicit manner possible.

The beauty of this is that it’s done in such a way that the book is still intense, but never feels crude as there is also strong focus on the storyline.

Sarah falls in love with her teacher Mr Carr which leads to an intimate relationship. But Carr leaves Sarah to a life of drinking, drugs and meaningless sex. Years later Carr returns and reshapes the empty Sarah, but it’s not

er. The tale is interspersed with conversations between low-flying clouds and rounded tree-tops, horses and their shadows on dusty roads, God and the roaring ocean (GOD: I own you like I own the caves. THE OCEAN: Not a chance. No comparison.)

Eggers himself questions and defines the story as it progresses, yet all these elements never undermine the lyrical nature of his storytelling.

While this never quite affects the same way A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius could, and doesn’t fizzle off the page with quite the same urgency as You Shall Know Our Velocity, it is far more than just a stop-gap between larger projects, and acts as a reminder of one of the great American authors of our generation, a talented and defiantly humane writer whose clear love for the short-story format consistently shines through.

9/10 James Skinner all for the best.

The book starts dark and spirals into an abyss of torrid love. The only downfall is that the characters lack depth, but this is held together by the strong storyline.

7/10 James Rendell

BEAST BOOKS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

BOOKS QUENCH MAGAZINE \\

THE WEIGHT OF NUMBERS Simon Ings

CUBA: Home to mutant palm trees

Atlantic Books

Ambitious stuff here from Ings, straddling continents and eras in his sixth novel THE TITLE ABOVE may suggest a mathematical structure to this novel, but it’s utterly misleading.

After a short prologue, the novel launches straight into a sombre alternative history of the last 60 years, and what a history.

Spiralling away from the separate events of the first moon landing and the death of a revolutionary leader in Mozambique, Ings brings us up to present day, but not without pausing on pretty much every area of life in between. Following the stories of three main protagonists, the narrative spans from the Blitz to the Communist revolution in Cuba; from the beginning of TV wrestling to the evolution of electro-convulsive therapy and doesn’t even stop there.

“

Beautiful...Ings’ fragile web of history had me like a fly

Although it may be hard to appreciate any connection between these disparate moments of history, the elusive movements of main protagonist Nick Jinks seem to offer some relief. He breezes in and out of the stories of the apparently random characters featured in each chapter, suggesting eventually that all these

ONE CITY Various authors Polygon

Scotland’s finest take on Edinburgh, in a trio of tales.

Foreword courtesy of JK Rowling THE ‘ONE CITY’ around which these three stories revolve is Edinburgh, a city dear to the heart of these three celebrated authors. A fourth celebrated author – Harry Potter plotter JK Rowling – provides the introduction under the shady auspices that she now lives in Edinburgh.

The premise behind this book’s existence is charity, more specifically: the One City Trust charity which is aimed at relieving social injustice in BOOKS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

loose ends will be tied up. Yet when the climax finally arrives, it is deflated and Nick Jinks has once again vanished.

Does this affect the book as a whole? Well, of course, the disparate events stay disparate; the randomly chosen characters stay random, (which, when they do occasionally interlink without acknowledging each other, can be extremely frustrating) but I still hung on to the very last word. The skill of storytelling and beautiful style that encourages you to feel each heartbreak of every charac-

ter keeps you glued to the pages, and the desperate need to moralise the events with a resolution drags your eyes to the next line.

I reached the last word and stared at the blank page ahead of me, understanding that I had read a pièce de résistance, but without having a clue how. Ings’ fragile web of history had me like a fly, and I would recommend this novel to everyone, especially those of you who like to be taken unawares by a masterpiece.

8/10 Daisy Beare

Edinburgh. That on its own is reason enough to invest in this venture but, thankfully, the content is pretty good too.

of the three. Tiger is a contestant in the homeless World Cup being held this year in Edinburgh. He discovers a new hobby off the pitch which more than makes up for his lack of commitment on it. You can feel Rankin’s imagination flowing here and it makes for a wonderfully gratifying read.

The third, by Irvine Welsh, is about a Tiger loose in the Murrayfield district of Edinburgh. With Welsh’s signature use of colloquial spelling you really get the feel of Scotland, but the subject is a bit lackadaisical and doesn’t really satisfy. Still it is a good, easy read and compliments the other two nicely.

Three very different subject matters, by three very different writers – all set in one unique city. But what’s all this about tigers?

6/10 Harold Shiel

“

One City is a wonderfully gratifying read.

But what’s all this about tigers?

The first, by Alexander McCallSmith, is about a homesick biologist from Delhi, who befriends a local girl.

He struggles with his loyalties and feelings regarding her and his new home. While it is well written I found it somewhat unfulfilling; a stream of nice ideas and observations but without the structure and attention that could have made it more engaging.

The second, by Ian Rankin, is a far more enthralling read – my favourite

TWENTYSEVEN

QUENCH MAGAZINE BOOKS

SHAUN OF THE DEAD Chris Ryall & Zach Howard Titan Books

Graphic novel adaptation of ‘rom-zom-com’ LAST YEAR Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright took over the US box-office with their little British rom-zom-com, Shaun of the Dead. A year later, we see the much-anticipated official comic’s director’s cut adaptation of the movie, complete with deleted scenes, unshot scenes and bonus material.

“

Succeeds in capturing the humour and energy of the film

Shaun of the Dead centres on Shaun, a 29-year-old clearly in the midst of a quarter-life crisis and his mundane exixtence in London. His life revolves around Ed (his roommate and best bud) and their frequenting of their local, the Winchester, for many an ale. His girlfriend, Liz, feels his pri-

AFRICAN MYTHS OF ORIGIN Stephen Belcher (Ed.)

Penguin Africa! Folklore of the great continent

ELEPHANT! Tusk tusk

TWENTYEIGHT

SOTD: “OH MY GOD! She’s so drunk!” orities lie in the wrong places, leading to their non-mutual breakup. While he has to patch up his relationship with Liz, zombie armageddon breaks loose.

This graphic novel (adapted from the ‘first rom-zom-com’ by Chris Ryall), succeeds in capturing the humour, energy and tone of the film, accom-

plishing a faithful version of the story.

It makes use of the same script using apt pacing for this medium with very similar shots, and the depictions of the actors are well-realised. Its only problem lies in it supposedly being a ‘director’s cut’ and lacking anything detectably new. 7/10 Ryan Owen

AFRICA IS A COUNTRY of rich diversity and can be bewildering at the best of times. The thought of tackling a collection of African myths was somewhat daunting. However, the editor Stephen Belcher has obviously taken great care in translating the stories for the world stage.

From the moment I turned the first page I was led through a continent rid-

dled with mystery and intrigue. Each tribe and kingdom has its own version of events, from waiting for a baby to excrete a valued bead to the creation of the world.

“

I was led through a continent riddled with mystery and intrigue

Although the format of the text is driven towards more academic reading, it is a pleasure to read at leisure.

The clear narrative allows for complete immersion in the ancient African civilisation. At times the bizarre contents of the myths can be a little confusing, especially as most of them are so brief, there is little time to fully grasp the action. What with Bokele being born from an egg and Yendembe changing his name to Lonkundo just for giggles, it takes some concentration.

The collection of short stories and myths has been translated with skill and sensitivity. Upon finishing it would be almost impossible not to feel a little closer to the great continent of Africa.

7/10 Maura Brickell BOOKS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

CULT QUENCH MAGAZINE

It’s deadline day at the newspaper offices. I have absolutely no idea what I am going to do with the section this week. Furrowing my brow in a vain attempt to understand the situation I conceive the idea of conducting a cult classic survey of everybody in the team’s favorite book, film and album... So here it is, a selection of the weirdest, most interesting, and provocative choices. Favourite cult classics of the Quench team.

Books LOUIS DE BERNIÈRES

THE WAR OF DON EMMANUEL’S NETHER PARTS

chy and an A clueless oligarband of guerrillas. l na tio en nv unco Si Truss

ROHINTO N MISTRY A FINE BALAN CE Post-colo unrest. nial India and S ocial Jessica Jo sef

BRUCE CAMPBELL E MAKE LOV THE BRUCE CAMPBELL WAY

ad famous Evil De The Star of theactors of the caliber trilogy defeats d Robert DeNiro to of Sean Penn antic comedy. The everstar in a romanpbell forms an onset humorous Cam hip with Richard tight-knit friendsve advice to the latGere offering lohilarious conseter resulting in quences.

Ryan Owen

BILL AND TED’S BOGUS JOURNEY Whether you’re a king or a street sweeper, sooner or later you dance with the reaper.

Cat Gee CLASSICS@GAIRRHYDD.COM

Music

Films MIDNIGHT COWBOY

Cow-rent-boys, big city lights and a touching tale.

Matt Turtle

ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND Introspective mind-altering proof that Jim Carey can act.

James Skinner

General Quench flavour: heartwarming touching epics..

MAGNOLIA

Inter-related characters sea for happiness and meani rching ng in the San Fernando Valley.

Will Dean

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN BORN TO RUN No album in the wo seamlessly as Sprinrld moves as score. The album stagsteen’s wonder nds at eight tracks and moves like an adolescent gazelle hunting the context of his a hare which in work stands as a metaphor for the lis about an all-or-nothi tener. An album stars and the desp ng shot at the that stands in the eration of youth of the pantheon of upper echelons Bastian Springs cult classics.

GUNS AND ROSES USE YOUR ILLUSION II Second installment from punchdrunk follow-up stomper Appetite for Destruction.

Sam Coare

NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL IN

THE AIRPLANE OVER THE SEA Barking mad Anne Frank centric Indie-folk.

Harold Shiel

AT THE DRIVE IN RELATIONSHIP OF COMMAND jemlets Afro skintight compressed en. doz the by out churned Greg Cochrane TWENTYNINE

QUENCH MAGAZINE MUSIC

ADEM Love and Other Planets

PHOTO: Thomas Highes

Domino Not Uranus

LOVE AND OTHER Planets is an album, Adem declares, “about people, space, and the cosmos.”

Where formerly he focused his innovative, folk-inflected song-writing talent on vignettes concerning the themes of home, family, friends and lovers, the universe in all its entirety is now his plaything. It's astounding then, that he has created perhaps the most beguiling, optimistic, and fundamentally human collection of songs you're likely to hear all year.

Assured opener Warning Call finds him ruminating on the future of mankind (“If we received a warning call, do you think we'd learn… or would it be in vain?”), while Spirals sees a lover tracing patterns on his hand, leading him to equate the vastness and depth of human love and emotion with the infinite galaxies that surround us.

Beautifully played on a multitude of instruments, occasionally breaking out into thrilling percussive breaks and lovingly crafted throughout, …Planets grows in stature with every listen. An album to hold tight to your chest and adore.

9/10 James Skinner

DANKO JONES Sleep Is The Enemy Bad Taste Records Tired IT'S TIME FOR ego-maniac Danko Jones's fourth release, but judging on the standard of his previous, 'long awaited' it certainly isn't. And this one is no better at all.

The whole thing reeks of the cheese you can only find in really really shitty rock 'n' roll music. Songs She's Drugs and The Finger demonstrate just how far down the imagination scale Danko is willing to go.

Danko fans might also be disappointed to hear that all the songs on this record still have the same vocal melody as all the songs on the last three records.

To give Mr Jones some credit, the THIRTY

Pick e Of Th k Wee

SPINTO: Oxfam Wardrobe

THE SPINTO BAND Nice And Nicely Done HIDING SMELLY

Domino

Too cool for school HIDING SMELLY GYM pants in the freckly girls' locker, making a clay willy in ceramics, wedging cheese into the art teacher’s pencil case and plugging your balding electronic teacher into the mains - school was plain brilliant.

Delaware's Spinto Band are just that kind of cheeky, boyish, knobblykneed fun wrapped into one brown paper record. Things begin in ecstatic fashion with the bounding, ballooning Did I Tell You, fairground bubbling organ stencilled on a sing-a-long chorus (“Did I tell you I didn't think tempo of the album chugs along at a lively enough rate, but the content is so horribly horribly poor. Sorry Wanko.

1/10 Mike Richards

THE FLAMING LIPS At War With The Mystics

Warner Brothers Nothing to do with Robots IF YOU COULD BLOW up the world in a flick of a switch would you do it?

So asks Wayne Coyne at the start of the Lips' eleventh album of a 22-year career.

Well, you'd hope you wouldn't, but the theme of death and destruction, as expertly explored on 2002's Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots is prevalent throughout Coyne and Co's

this would work out?”). The kazootastic (yes, kazoo) Brown Boxes follows, like the Flaming Lips with the weirdness removed but the tunes intact.

And then there's the wonky mandolin of Oh Mandy, what should be the scarf-waving, cider-swilling, jesterhat-throwing classic of the summer with Nick Kroll's rinky tink voice levitating like Ben Gibbard (of Death Cab For Cutie) over the top.

What’s left is seven beautiful and equally astounding songs, like Crack The Whip, a tune so uplifting it belongs in the sky and the muddy guitar of Late, a song so hyperactive it's surely been reared on chips and Playstation.

The Spinto Band then; like school, but without the teachers, detentions and dinner ladies.

9/10 Greg Cochrane 2006 opus. Said opening track, the Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Song is the most glorious of album primers.

Showcasing the Lips' key sound, that of a care-free synth wrapping its dirty fingers around the most beautiful of pop melodies. This continues through most of ...Mystics' tracks before, at around the halfway stage, we stumble into the Oklahomans' usual trouble spot. Y'see, they've got the songs, by 'eck they've got the songs (listen to Yoshimi's Fight Test) but they seem to be content to fill a third of their albums with blobble-dobble sounds. If ...Mystics was seven songs long it would be the album of the year. Shame.

Anyway, how can anyone dislike a band with song titles like The Wizard Turns On... The Giant Silver Flashlight and Puts on His Werewolf Moccasins?

Genius; flawed genius perhaps, but genius nevertheless.

8/10 Will Dean MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

MUSIC QUENCH MAGAZINE

THE FUTUREHEADS News and Tributes

HOWLING BELLS Howling Bells Bella Union

679

THE RACONTEURS Broken Boy Soldiers XL

Sore Head

“You listen to trash, but it’s not rock and roll”

Broken In. Ouch

YES?… NO?… YES! This is indeed a triumphant second album from David Cameron-lookalike Barry and the boys from Sunderland.

With News and Tributes they appear to have taken their sound, honed it, shaped it, moulded it, and fully claimed it as their own, solidifying their niche for generations to come.

New single Skip To The End has all the hand-clapping bounce and bustle of their past yet falls short of this new crop. It is when the drums drive their songs like on Cope and Return Of The Beserker that this album comes into its own.

They manage to flit from punk-rock bombast to harmonised-pop bouncery without sounding contrived.

Thursday builds to a meaty swagger when the bastardised choirboy crooning comes in asking “can anybody do the curse removal?”

It would appear the Futureheads are only cursed to produce good music, so lets hope the answer is a unanimous NO! 7/10 Harold Shiel

AMONGST ALL THESE new-fangled punk-rock-psychobilly-disco kids in bands gripping their new shiny synths with both hands, sometimes it's easy to lose your way.

That is until you stumble across something that instantly cuts through all the crap and WHAM BAM! You remember what music is supposed to sound like.

Early singles Wishing Stone and Low Happening set the stunningly spiky tone, which then jumps into a combination of music from another area in Ballad For The Bleeding and a scorched, dusty country feel worthy of a small slap on the thigh in Broken Bones and Setting Sun. There is a completely understated sexiness that dances round each note effortlessly while dirty guitar noises batter your ear drums with force. Somewhere between the fabulous and striking lady voice of Miss Juanita Stein and the haunting riffs worthy of early Radiohead I feel like I am about to BURST. I’m not sure if this is love or lust, but whatever it is, I hope it lasts.

9/10 Sofie Jenkinson

JACK, JACK, BRENDAN and Pat: four unassuming names unless you take into account that one of them made the rich list.

But they assure us that they’re all equal parts in this one, wonderful whole. Broken Boy Soldiers could be a hundred different things at once… well… ten things at least. There’s balladry, skiffle, hard-rock and of course, blues.

Jack Dubya’s guitar still wails throughout this album and his lips curl around the majority of the vocal, but the White Stripes this is not.

The Greenhornes rhythm section are solid but could be anyone. This is the Jack and Brendan show, and it works well. They play off one another like Chas and Dave or Mulligan and O’Hare. You can hear the mutual respect when their vocals dance over one another on Together.

High points come with Broken Boy Soldier and soulful closer Blue Veins.

Low points come with, well, er... maybe the next album. For now this is just great.

8/10 Harold Shiel

Evolved, not four years, except unlike the latter it just doesn't pack much of a punch.

Obvious comparisons with Nirvana aside, the Australian three-piece make their particular brand of dirty garage rock their own, but somewhere a spark’s been lost, maybe the lobotomy was a step too far…

6/10 Will Hitchins

Buddies with the Arcade Fire (members of which appear throughout), Islands are similarly expansive in their sound, embracing all manner of instruments in their quest for widescreen symphonic-pop glory.

Horns, strings and woodwind all get a look-in here, ‘cuicas’ too (nope, me neither), and it’s testament to their deliriously inventive songwriting that never once does anything seem excessive, any instrument too much.

Eclecticism is rife, and Islands are clearly having the time of their lives.

Songs often contain countless sections bound together seamlessly: sunshine pop meets ominous strings and crashing guitars - they even find space for Los Angeles MCs Subtitle and Busdriver on one track.

Islands are big and clever, and they know it. That doesn’t, however, stop this album from being outrageously good.

9/10 James Skinner

THE VINES Vision Valley Heavenly Recordings

A Nasty Rash IF THE VINES had appeared for the first time now, in the indie four-piece filled wasteland of 2006, they probably wouldn’t have caused much of a stir.

I imagine they'd be seen as just another greased-up, retro-grimy garage band. As it happened their release of Highly Evolved in 2002 was received with open arms and ears and justly so, but four years on with lead singer Craig Nicholls back from a bout of mental illness, on the music front nothing’s really changed.

Vision Valley could easily have been released four months after Highly MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

ISLANDS Return To The Sea IS IT…?

Rough Trade

Crabs IT CAN'T BE. Nah. Wait, yes, I think it… no. That’s impossible.

Wait! It is! It definitely is! It’s another freakin’ awesome band from Canada!

THIRTYONE

QUENCH MAGAZINE MUSIC

London CRAWLING

Two teams.

Twelve hours.

Nine bands.

Xpress Radio and Quench tackle the Camden Crawl

THE CAMDEN CRAWLERS (BELOW): And everyone’s favourite tube stations

Barfly GREG: Tooting Broadway

SAM: Cockfosters

The Spinto Band

SPINTO: Potteridge & Whetstoe

Punk rock has its uses. Save from its ability to clear a room in a matter of minutes, it’s not a bad standard by which to judge the pre-pubescent antics of drunken, er, us. And if there’s one thing American pop-punkers, Bowling for Soup, did for us (other than put that bird with those eyes in that video for that song about bad guys), it’s assess our current lack of sobriety. Drunk enough to dance are we, and dance we shall. Did I Tell You weaves a merry jig, with Brown Boxes demanding a jittery quickstep; Nice and nicely done indeed. SC 3.31pm – Freshly furnished with a plastic wristband, goody bag and time schedule, we beeline to the nearest pub.

3.32pm – Sign in the pub window says ‘Dress Code – Gothic and Alternative’. They do like a laugh in Camden.

3.33pm – Refused entry to said boozer as we’re not all in black PVC. Now there’s a first. Sam seems upset.

Queuing outside NW1, I see Romeo from the Magic Numbers; "You here to see Absentee?" he asks. "Of course," I reply to a smile, and we don't stop smiling as Absentee pace through their set with a dirty sweetness.

In anticipation of new album, Schmotime, they play a few new tracks. However, old classics such as My Dead Wife still sound as fresh as the country air you would imagine them to breathe, Dan's voice vibrating through the walls with a soft shyness. And if anyone isn't smiling, Grease cover You're the Absentee One That I Want certainly solves that. JL THIRTYTWO

JEN: Mornington Crescent

Lock 17 The Maccabees MACCABEES: Accompanying Elephant & Castle the Kooks as South coast poppixies, like a nasal atomic bomb Orlando Weeks grapples the mic stand like his life depends on it. Single X-Ray slays the packed room with its Bloc Party-esque sketchy guitar super-powers and then the aquatic Latchmere (a song about having a jolly splash around at the local swimming pool) glows and bounces. By the time they reach the ecstatic Lego the crowd are screaming in unison (“look left and look right/cross the road holding hands”) and the pogoing masses crash onto the stage in one beautiful mess. GC

NW1

3.45pm – we sink a few bevvies in the infamous surroundings of the Worlds End pub, packed with pre-crawlers getting warmed up.

MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

MUSIC QUENCH MAGAZINE 5.30pm - a hasty scuttle down Camden high street and to the first venue of the evening, KOKO. £3.30 for a can of Foster’s, shabbily poured into a plastic cup. You must be ‘avin’ a giggle bruv. Quench buys four nonetheless.

7.00pm - The Quench team are boosted by the arrival of bit-part contributor Tim. The six people that stay for the delights of the Mitchell Brothers are visibly impressed by the team’s ability to perform press ups whilst coping with Sam’s dry-humping and pseudo buggery.

Wolfmother / Louie

TIM: Wapping

G Lounge

Electric Ballroom

Young Knives

Underworld

12.05am – Greg hangs out of the car hollering abuse and throwing dog meat kebab at passers by, oblivious to the fact he’s meant to be putting Jen up for the night. Jen spends the night outside the locked Victoria Station, praying pigeons won’t shit on her.

MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

9.16pm – Greg starts chatting up some South African girls.

9.17pm – South African girls, erm, leave.

Dirty Pretty Things

Inside the packed Electric Ballroom you wonder if the Young Knives forgot their glasses as they joke with the front row, oblivious to several hundred standing behind. "You want the House of Lords to breakdance? He's too fat," jokes Henry. Instead of fancy footwork, we are treated to fancy fretwork as the glorious sounds of Decision, Here Comes the Rumour Mill and Elaine (written at the age of 14) even have the three Kaiser Chiefs standing to the right of me singing along. However, no riot ensues and TYK leave stage with top buttons and ties firmly in place. JL

THE QUENCH CRAWLERS: Pudding Mill Lane

The queue seemed to stretch the high street, but inside the tiny G Lounge the crowd is sparse. Nothing changes as Louie take stage, boasting two lead singers who possess all the energy of an A-bomb and the sound to match. However, they are greeted with blank faces by an older crowd. As their set ends, the venue is suddenly packed with slick fringes for 'secret' headliners, Wolfmother. They race through their set with storming guitar, crunching bass and big hair. However, there is nothing visual about their performance and I'm left yearning the crowdinvading antics of Louie. JL

LOUIE: Barking

Closing the evening’s live proceedings, Libertines off-shoot and socially inept MySpacers’ darlings, Dirty Pretty Things, bore the tits off us. An apparent sighting of Kate Moss just a few yards away proves the most exciting moment of the hour, and I couldn’t even bloody see her. Barat neither holds the presence nor talent to fill the frontman void, especially to a crowd who’ve been drinking for the past seven hours. Closing number and dire single Bang Bang You’re Dead closes the night, with film crews turning up for a future promo video, which’ll help sell the band as much as Anthrax-stuffed sleevenotes would sell records. SC

9:20pm – Running up the High Street, Jen bumps into Gwenno from the Pipettes.

“The queues are massive,” she says; “All I’ve seen is the end of the Guillemots”.

Jen doesn’t see the Pipettes – the queue was too long.

Koko

Dogs / Mitchell Brothers Strutting out of 2001, Dogs saunter around the decadent KOKO stage like London’s grubby cousins of the Strokes. It takes no time at all for the assembled throngs to start getting sweaty as they blast through choice cuts from dazzling debut Turn Against This Land, which takes on an extra naked spikiness live; finishing firework Tuned To A Different Station proves a Carling-soaked stonker.

Sapping Dogs’ hyper enduced canine tempo the Mitchell brothers amble on with decks and mics, but their Skinner-esque cheeky rhymes fall flat on indie ears as the venue rapidly empTHIRTYTHREE

QUENCH MAGAZINE MUSIC

sson PHOTO: Adam Ga

PANIC! AT THE DIS CO Great Hall Wednesday April 19

PANIC!: Disco Biscuits SO, TO PANIC! AT the Disco. The hottest name in the emo circuit.

And not just because it looks the best tippexed on your bag.

Despite having had zero radio play and zero singles, everyone knows who they are, and anyone, I presume, who's anyone in the South Wales i'm-So-Alternative-it-hurts scheme of life was mingling in The Great Hall for what Panic! themselves claim to be their first ever headlining tour.

CHARLOTTE CHURCH St David’s Hall Friday April 21

THIRTYFOUR

BOUNCING SOULS Barfly 2 Saturday April 2

IT OFTEN TAKES something very special to win over a Cardiff crowd.

Maybe we’re too uptight or perhaps we just wouldn’t know good music if it came up and happy-slapped us.

With that in mind, The Fratellis clearly have the magic ingredients to solve both these problems.

The wonderful racket of last single Creepin Up The Backstairs causes a stampede within the sold out crowd.

From that point there seems to be a collective realisation that here is one of the most energetic and exciting new bands of the year.

The sound is terrible with everything turned up to a deafening 11, but whilst tonight’s performance isn’t the most musically polished it’s hardly a problem. The Fratellis write the kind of joyfully anarchic, glue sniffing behind the bike-sheds, punk anthems that could see them cross over from scuzzy rock-club patrons to radio-friendly chart heroes with impeccable ease.

Tom Brookes

PHOTO: Adam Ga sson

STRUTTING THE STAGE in stilettos at a mere 20-years-old, Charlotte oozes sexiness and bellows confidence. She’s one solo artist that could get away with going a cappella (the unnecessary eight-man backing band served only to dampen her voice) and the power of her phenomenal vocal range ensures every corner of the room is resonating.

Constantly interacting with the crowd and describing herself as a ‘lazy cow,’Charlotte is instantly likeable. With covers ranging from Kate Bush to Luther Vandross, the majority of the songs were apparently a ‘bitch,’ yet her voice conquered the tempo and high notes with ease. Her soprano voice is ice-cut acute, the lower range a tuneful husky holler.

Fair play to the girl, when she has a crowd of children through to octogenarians standing up in massclapping motion and migrating to the stage for a mere hand touch, who are we to shun her revamped teen-bop image and flourishing leap into popdiva territory? Rosie Powling

Onwards and upwards; P!ATD have about 12 good songs out of a possible 12. Five of these are completely and utterly brilliant and damn near faultless examples of cryptic angst-ridden nonsense backed by a drum machine and sequencer with ADD and a collection of OMD records. Three of these are a trio of possibly the best three-minute pop shots in the last year. One of these (Time to Dance) is one of the greatest feats in music entertainment FULL STOP. Which, needless to say, all translates onto a live context with stopstart twiddly interludes mid-song, extended outros (play that funky coda to But it's Better if You Don't, white boy) as a lesson in how to be the most fun a human can possibly have, whilst simulataneously playing to a whole room of pale-faced mope fiends who wouldn't know fun if it had flesh tunnels and worked in Blue Banana.

John Widdop

THE FRATELLIS Barfly Friday April 28

BOUNCING: Soul Survivors

HOW DO YOU WRITE AN UNBIASED review of a band whose logo you've had permanently inked across your chest?

Easy, you don't. The Bouncing Souls are simply one of the best punk bands on the planet, and for a good reason. A singer that can sing; a seemingly rare commodity these days, where someone screaming is considered vocal ability. Chuck into the mix a back catalogue; dating 15 years, full of anthemic delights, True Believers for one, and treats. You're left with a recipe for damn good punk pie. Did I mention 15 years? That'd explain the awesome, refined explosiveness of their live show.

For an added bonus point their new material isn’t Top Shop friendly emo either, The Gold Record being the pick of the bunch from what promises to be an excellent album.

Adam Gasson MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

MUSIC QUENCH MAGAZINE

PHOTO: James Pe rou

THEY WEAR a cape of white SECRET MACHINES sound, a dark cloak of smoky Solus mystique, Tuesday March 2 1 dimmed glasses and a hefty pair of stomping prog-rock laced boots.

The Texas via New York threesome of Secret Machines cut a set of doomy figures in front of blazing bright searchlights that struggle to keep up with their shadows.

Musically they’re less aloof, a skeletal Benjamin Curtis spits into SECRET: Squirrel the microphone over his dense guitar and brother Brandon’s liquefied organ, whilst Josh Garza slaps his kit Lonely so hard you can almost hear it crying. crawls off like a weary beast into its Lightning Blue Eyes bulges, writhes lair. and cracks at the seams before the Austere they might be then, but cold, granite rocking of Sad and dark souls have never made such a luminous racket. Greg Cochrane

MOGWAI Coal Exchange Sunday April 2 THE COAL EXCHANGE is Cardiff’s premiere middle sized venue; a tall, handsome building with a high ceiling, good sound and cracking toilets.

Mogwai are legends and arguably Britain’s finest band with an ability peculiar to them of scaling a full range of emotions from patient, brooding sadness to merciless terror or joy in one piece of music, while simultane-

sson PHOTO: Adam Ga

UGLY DUCKLING CF10 Saturday April 2 9

ously inventing musical landscapes of unrelenting beauty and providing a transcendental experience all too rare in music these days; promising indeed.

I chuckled at their arrival on stage all bald heads and green Adidas tracksuits; but within the hour I realised it’s this shallowness that Mogwai despise and between the indisputable monster of an opener, Mogwai fear Satan, and the thundering, repetitive finale they showed me what a nob-head I can be. Their records of late haven’t been up to scratch but this loud, so very loud show, made my ears bleed, my eyes hurt, my brain spasm and left me as exhausted as I wanted them to leave me. Like really good sodomy.

Tom Howard

DUCKLING: Swanning around

MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

& CALEXICO/IRON WINE Academy, Bristol 2 Saturday April 2 AN OVERPOWERING HUSH descends over the mish-mashed crowd as Iron and Wine’s whispering plumes of sound transfix all ears. Sam Beam’s vocals intertwine with those of sibling Sarah to mesmerising capacity in Remember Me. The stripped-bare opening numbers are nothing short of breath-taking, this failing to wane as the acoustic guitar was joined by drums, bass and violin. The set approached Polyphonic Spree-proportions as Joey Burns and co. accompanied adding flecks of trumpet, slide guitar and bongos to artistic perfection. The songs are reminiscent and hauntingly beautiful, belying Beam’s gruff looks and luscious beard. By way of interlude Burns introduces the traditional Mexican stylings of Salvador Duran.

His solo effort demonstrated skills as dancer, with harmonica, acoustic guitar and mouth clicks; and also bizarre animal noises. Fairly genius.

Calexico demonstrated their blistering quality with Cruel and Yours And Mine from new album Garden Ruin. The set felt complete only with crowning glory All Systems Red combining Bowie-esque conscious lyrics with crushing musicianship absent on record. The evening culminated in an all-star encore with Iron and Wine and Salvador on All Tomorrow’s Parties and closing with an extra long, hand-clapped Guero Canelo, leaving behind some very happy, cultured beardies. Emily Kendrick

LESS GIG, MORE PARTY, Ugly Duckling’s headlining set at CF10 is perfectly suited to the small stature of the venue.

DJs get the crowd nodding their heads, and quickly the audience begin to loosen, enter Giant Panda into the arena. Their blend of old and new school hip-hop beats’n’rhymes entice those by the bar to investigate further. Their more serious lyrical approach to topics is perhaps lost as they attempt to get the crowd moving, but this is meant to be a party after all.

UD arrive. UD rap. UD entertain. UD make you move your feet. Simply trawling their way through the classics, never has a hip-hop show been so much about singing along. Aside from a few (frankly out of place) ‘comical’ skits about selling merchandise and 50 Cent, UD’s rapping ability and catchy beats kept the atmosphere light and the shindig rocking. Matt Deverson THIRTYFIVE

QUENCH MAGAZINE MUSIC

THE SPINTO BAND Did I Tell You

DANIEL POWTER Lie To Me

From the outset this song pulsates with drums and thriving vocal chaos. The Spinto Band are ace and this is just a hint of their allure, combining pop-danceability with boundless jangling eccentricity.

6/10 MH

Before even dirtying my CD player with this single, I was expecting a generic, dull, grey, melody with unoriginal, quasi-profound lyrics; guess what? I was right. 2/10 WH

Virgin

BLACKBUD Barefoot Dancing Independiente

A stunning heartfelt rock-ballad with dreamy vocals and a colourful guitar sound. With its piercing intro, its clear that this Buckley and Dylan-influenced trio are set for big things. 9/10 LC

THE RACONTEURS Steady As She Goes XL

This is bloody wonderful, and it has stuck in my head for more time than anything useful has ever. “I’ve had too much to think,” of course you have, I mean why wouldn’t you have? You’re always thinking.

8/10 HAS

THE PHYSICISTS Sleaze Campaign

Complete Control Music

Quite possibly the worst two minutes of my week. With its hardedged pub-rock guitar nicely covering up grotesque screeching vocals, this is poor. Very poor. Hopefully, the Physicists will be after this.

1/10 RO

BOY KILL BOY Suzie Vertigo

The chorus may say “Countdown to your disappointment,” but Boy Kill Boy should stop being so modest, as their brightest, bounciest and best single to date finally gets a rerelease. 7/10 TB

THE TELEVISION PERSONALITIES She Can Stop Traffic Domino

The original post-punk indie kids return with a wealth of life experience echoing between every eccentric note. The missing link between 90s grunge and Britpop, and, I’m guessing, a staple of Coxon’s record collection. 8/10 SJ THIRTYSIX

Warner

BREAKS CO-OP The Otherside Parlophone

So…. more surf-rock anyone? Could well be the summer anthem of ‘06 thanks to Mr Johnson’s groundwork.

And no, you can’t hear Zane. 5/10 SJ

STORY ONE Disposable Shy Records

Nottingham based four-piece Story One fabricate a forceful, guitar and violin driven noise, produced by Chris Sheldon (Foo Fighters, Biffy Clyro) but the vocals grate from its resemblance to the ‘phonics midget.

6/10 RO

LIAM FROST AND THEE SLOWDOWN FAMILY The Mourners of St Paul’s Lavolta

Part-Bright Eyes, part-Badly Drawn Boy, Liam Frost falls ever so slightly short of matching the quality of his obvious influences. Still, better than Blunt in terms of a UK singer/songwriter. 6/10 MH

Playli st

RE: Cardiff’s Music Mafia (Q38) It is easy to forget who your friends are. In my struggle to be controversial and interesting I managed to avoid being fair - a schoolboy error by anybody’s standards.

Throughout my time in Cardiff one place that has consistently provided me with good, cheap, cutting-edge music and regular drunken debauchery is the Barfly. On my first night in Cardiff I chucked my stuff in my room, found out the person in the room next to me had the same name and dragged him down into the noisy catacombs to see the sweaty, hormone-fest that was Har Mar Superstar. We’ve been together ever since.

Since then I’ve been bombarded with options from the big: Razorlight and Franz (pre-enormity), via the destined to be big: Clap Your Hands Say

Yeah! and ¡Forward Russia! to the ‘couldn’t care less if they’re big or not, they still rock’: the Research and the Blood Brothers.

And it doesn’t stop there, many a club night has been spent bandying about on the dancefloor, drinking whiskey and winning free tickets to my next gig from Mike TV. So don’t fuck the Barfly, or if you do, do it passionately and look into its eyes and say ‘I love you’ while stroking its hair.

When someone loves you as much as the Barfly did me it is easy to take them for granted. You should always take a step back and think about what you’ve got. Then realise there are a lot of good people trying their damndest to make sure you’ve got somewhere to go to get all the new music, and that’s got to be a good thing. So thank-you Barfly, and sorry x HS

In association with Xpr ess Radio

MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

MUSIC QUENCH MAGAZINE

Beginners’ Guide

Mo

F

or a very long while I hated jazz. Come to think of it, jazz hated me. We didn’t sit well together. Then one day, postshower and in a particularly melancholic mood, I was suddenly converted.

The first notes of Kind of Blue, drifting through the air, both heartbreaking and uplifting, changed things forever. Jazz is a massively diverse music, and modern jazz (I’m thinking 1950 onwards here) within that again has huge variation.

Whether played on a guitar, trumpet or the old favourite, a saxophone, every player has his own style. If it’s the drug-fuelled technical perfection of Charlie Parker, or the jolly tone of Cannonball Adderley, there is an unmistakeable essence to the music which hooks and sucks you in.

A lot of people find it difficult to embrace the ‘spirit of jazz’; it’s labelled grandad music, unapproachable and repetitive. These people fail to see that a good solo is the soundtrack to a drug fuelled, prostitute-riddled binge around the dark side of New York City; It brings to mind steam rising from the sewers barely obscuring an 80-year-old bearded tramp drinking bourbon out of a brown paper bag; and you get all this from one blow of the trumpet.

Will Hitchins

5

Kind of Blue Often crowned as the greatest modern jazz album of all time, from the first note to the last, Kind of Blue never fails.

JOHN COLTRANE

Giant Steps Saxophonist supreme, every player since has been influenced by this man. Coltrane flies between the octaves like a crazy jazz rollercoaster.

Something Else My favourite saxophonist and the most accessible, he plays uplifting jazz - a change to the melancholy.

Ja

zz

CHARLIE PARKER

Jazz Master 15 This man changed jazz forever, ‘Bird’ reinvented Jazz saxophone. Extremely technical yet beautifully delicate.

me o c e B pert x e n a £50 h t i w

CANNONBALL ADDERLEY

rn

THELONIOUS MONK

Brilliant Corners Perhaps the finest jazz pianist ever, Brilliant Corners see his quintet on full form, with the Horns playing as major a part as the keys.

CHARLES MINGUS

Works 1951-1977 The double bass man of modern jazz.

Mingus worked with all the greats, this compilation charts some of his finest moments.

FIVE ARE-LIVE ...

The top five gigs you’d be a numpty to miss...

When: Thursday May 11 Who: Black Mountain Where: The Point

The Vancouver arts brigade descends on Cardiff so don your beret, grow out your beard and let them take on a magical adventure.

When: Friday May 12 Who: Mystery Jets/Battle Where: CF10

You will win the Battle more easily if you use Jets, or a big gun, or an axe MUSIC@GAIRRHYDD.COM

MILES DAVIS

de

depending on context and availability.

When: Friday May 12 Who: Longcut/We Start Fires Where: Clwb Ifor Bach

Take your Mancunian swagger from its box, put it on and swing down to little Ivor’s club, then start a fire.

When: Saturday May 13 Who: Liam Frost and the Slowdown Family Where: Cardiff Barfly

Cardiff’s own troubadour Matt Hitt supports Liam’s alt. folk magnificence. Show some love and go to this gig and give Matt a kiss on the lips for hours.

When: Tuesday May 16 Who: Buck 65 Where: Cardiff Barfly

Canadian one-man, one-deck, hip-hopelectronica merchant calls in to Cardiff to woo us with his quips.

THIRTYSEVEN

F I L M

N E W S POSH GIRL SELLS DRESS

Lady-like English actress Keira Knightly this week auctioned off her Oscar-night dress to raise money for Oxfam. The winning bid of £4,301.01, however, has been described as disappointingly low. The dress itself is described as having a grand bottom flounce. Whatever that is.

LOST IN SPACE

US TV man of the moment, Lost director JJ Abrams, is signed up to follow up Mission: Impossible 3 by producing and directing the eleventh big screen adventure of the Star Trek crew.

Black

FOXY WES

BLACK GETS MAGNETIC

Jack Black has signed up to play a scrapyard worker whose brain becomes magnetised in Be Kind To Rewind, the new project of Eternal Sunshine... director Michel Gondry.

Black’s character goes on to erase all the videos in his friends video shop, all of which he is then forced to try and remake.

Royal Tenembaums writer/director Wes Anderson is lined up for a big screen adaptation of Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr Fox for 2007, which should be, er, fantastic.

FRICKIN’ IDIOTS

Napoleon Dynamite star John Heder is to bring out the inner geek once more for a romantic comedy co-staring Scary Movie 4’s Anna Faris. As a 30something nerd whose beloved mother falls in love with a motivational speaker, we’re hoping Heder is gonna need to break out some sweet bostaff skills. Maybe.

M ORE Simon Pegg

Fox

His brief appearance in M:I:3 just isn’t enough, but with Hot Fuzz on the horizon, the future’s looking like a slice of fried gold

Films without Simon Pegg

We’re serious about this... ...We REALLY like Simon Pegg... ...in case you didn’t guess

L ESS

" The Libertine !" " March of Out on DVD this fortnight: !" " Match Point !" " Lady Vengeance Penguins !"

Out at cinemas this fortnight: Mission: Impossible 3 ! " The Magician Love + Hate ! Confetti !" " The Devil and Daniel Johnston !"

FILM@GAIRRHYDD.COM

FILM QUENCH MAGAZINE

film@gairrhydd

By Catherine Gee Film Editor

I

’m a bit scared. Not just because both my degree and my time with Quench are soon to be ending but because the Pirates of the Caribbean sequel is due out in July. I know that sounds a bit strange, it’s only a film, of course. But what if it isn’t any good?

I find it incredibly difficult not to shaft sequels into our all-important ‘Less’ section every issue. More often than not they don’t do the original justice and are just a half-arsed attempt to make a few extra quid and keep the director’s baby awake for that bit longer.

The very idea of the Indiana Jones sequel, which has been on the shelf for years now, makes my spine shudder like a child seeing their parents snog. I hope to God, Mother Nature and Father Time that it never gets made. There’s simply no need. None at all.

Recently, Empire magazine put into print that they thought The Goonies should be remade and called to Hollywood to ask what they are waiting for. Now, I am of the opinion that Empire has hit the skids recently. It ain’t as good as it was and sometimes they say daft things. But that hits a whole new level. Unless it happened to be an April Fools.

Y’see, I liked Pirates of the Caribbean. Even in spite of Keira Knightley, who actually wasn’t that bad. I’m even daring to think it may be good. Just please don’t let me down.

Coming soon...

Designed to get you sweating at the mere thought of their arrival: Brick (12/05/06) A loner teenager pushes his way into the underground of highschool crime to investigate the disappearence of his ex in this piece of modern film noir.

X-Men 3: The Last Stand (25/05/06) More high-energy, mutant-related action in the third of the betterthan-most comic book franchise.

FORTYONE

FILM QUENCH MAGAZINE

VINCENT FRANKLIN AND JASON WATKINS: Heron and Hough

JIMMY CARR: Smooth FILM@GAIRRHYDD.COM

the instructor was only brought on set to teach the pair how to play. As English wasn't his first language Mangan leapt on the chance to make de Miguel look silly at every given opportunity, which understandably took its toll. “So he got a bit fed up and said to Debbie, 'Stephen's really annoying me, I want to punch him'.

And Debbie said to him 'go ahead’.”

And he did.

“

“

was meant to take place in each scene they were left to make it up on their own. “I found within the first few days that I wasn't as good at it as I thought I was going to be,” Freeman says. “I don't think anyone I know has had to improvise on camera an entire film from start to finish. When there is no script there is nothing to refer back to apart from a half-mad woman who's having a nervous breakdown in the corner.”

Luckily improvisation can create very effective scenes which otherwise wouldn't have happened. In this instance, a real-life punch-up between Stephen Mangan and tennis coach, Jesus de Miguel, stayed in the film.

“Jesus is a ridiculously good-looking, charismatic, tanned, athletic, Spanish love-god and I took an instant dislike to him,” Mangan explains. Originally

You take the anorak to the naked fat one

Star Vincent Franklin

Indeed, each cast member seems to have his own story or personal experience with weddings. One half of comedy duo Heron and Hough is Vincent Franklin, a stocky, balding chap who undergoes a complete transformation as a camp wedding planner for the film. “I'm really really sad. I got married in a National Trust property and it was very Laura Ashley,” he chuckles away. “I'm from the north of England and the weirdest thing for me was to go to a wedding where they have hot food. With my friends it's just sandwiches. If it's very posh, open ones. That's it. As far as having a theme, our theme is just 'fights by seven'.”

But not all is so violent. Freeman,

who has his own album of handpicked Motown tracks out, confesses himself to be a softie. “Not too long ago, I was asked to do a reading and couldn't get through it because I was crying. I kept having to stop as I was breaking down and eventually one of my brothers came over. It was really embarrassing and it literally took about twenty minutes. I wouldn't do a reading again, for sure.”

One has to wonder, which is the more embarrassing: crying persistently during a reading or attending a wedding in the buff? According to Franklin it was the younger, more inexperienced members of the crew who had it the hardest. “The worst bit is when some poor 18-year-old girl on her first job is told 'you take the anorak to the naked fat one'. So she approaches you sideways on, holding it up so she can't see. Then you have to take the anorak off and do it again.”

There was plenty of preparation for the nude scenes, involving cast and crew trips to a naturist community.

“It's a tricky thing,” says Isitt. “Apart from the fact that nakedness is inherently funny it is also something that really fascinates me as I do think 'why aren't we just naked?' There's nothing going on it's just nudity and I felt passionately that that story needed to be told.”

Their nudity is one frequently used in the film and without introversion.

When Webb's character objects to Confetti magazine's attempts to clothe them for the wedding he violently strips his attire in the editor's office and sits back down. The camera is positioned at his knees and we're treated to near full view of his testicles bunched uncomfortably between his legs.

“We felt their wedding was the purest in that quite literally it strips all the paraphernalia, and we supported them in that, so it wasn't that hard,” says Franklin, who presumably sympathises well given he also had to strip for the film. The story of the naturists themselves is turned into one of subversion as they compete with the editor and Joanna's mother to get what they believe in. And, indeed, why shouldn't more people express themselves through their wedding?

“Making the film made me think that more people should do it,” Stevenson says seriously. “I think because the whole nature of weddings is bizarre anyway why not go the whole hog and turn it into a complete circus?”

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QUENCH MAGAZINE FILM

CONFETTI: Certainly not cricket CONFETTI Dir: Debbie Isitt Starring: Jessica Stevenson, Martin Freeman, Olivia Colman, Jimmy Carr Out 05/05, 100 mins

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hanks to Four Weddings and a Funeral, the wedding has become the archetypal British symbol of stuffiness, old man dancing and drunken snogs with bridesmaids. Since then the subject has been left well alone. But director, Debbie Isitt, has now dragged it out of the dusty display cabinet and given it a makeover.

Much in the style of Best in Show, Confetti is a mockumentary, but this time three couples are competing to win a house by having the most original wedding. The film’s title comes from the name of the magazine running the competition, as a way of rehashing the tired Best Bride of the previous years.

Jimmy Carr stars as the man running the contest with Felicity Montagu (Bridget Jones’ Diary) as the stiff upper-lipped editor. The couples shortlisted are Martin Freeman and Jessica Stevenson’s musical wedding, FORTYFOUR

Stephen Mangan and Meredith MacNeill’s Wimbledon wedding and Robert Webb and Olivia Colman’s naturist wedding.

The main difference between this and just about every other film out there is that the actors improvised the entire thing with only Isitt’s vision to guide them. It shows the wealth of talent within the cast and the sheer determination of the director that little of this film looks amateur or unrehearsed.

Opening with Carr’s introduction and idea for the competition, Confetti plunges in and skips very quickly over the formalities until the introduction to the three competing couples is made. Each actor plays a role not entirely different from their bestknown screen personas, though; as the old adage goes, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Fortunately, Stevenson’s character is likable and avoids being quite as excrutiatingly embarrassing as Cheryl in The Royle Family.

Alison Steadman, as Stevenson’s mother, is the meddling in-law of every man’s nightmare. Steadman knows what she’s good at and it’s using that squealing voice to full spine-tingling potential. She rarely plays any other role, but who needs her to when she’s got this one down to the ground.

Despite the big British names

involved with the film, the scene-stealers are the virtual unknowns, Vincent Franklin and Jason Watkins, as the camp party planners Heron and Hough. Though quite overtly gay, they manage to teter at the edge of annoying queens and avoid falling over.

Instead they often act as the voice of reason and as mediators between the couples and the editor and even between the couples themselves.

Their flamboyance is charming and their sensitivity heart-warming.

The finales themselves, the weddings, are luckily pulled off well; so easily could they have been not only cheesy but extremely tacky. Even the presence of Webb’s todger is not an unwelcome guest considering its lengthy back-story. Though not nearly as welcome as Mark Heap’s cameo as the registrar.

Of course the characters have to go through all the necessary ups and downs, the fights, disputes and doubts in order to reach that happy conclusion. When improvised, the victim can often be the pace and momentum of a scene, as well as the occasional absence of laughs. But it’s still a film you would describe as being ‘pretty good’, as well as being yet another boost for Martin Freeman’s career.

Catherine Gee FILM@GAIRRHYDD.COM

FILM QUENCH MAGAZINE SLITHER

LOVE + HATE

Dir: James Gunn Starring: Nathan Fillion, Elizabeth Banks

Dir: Dominic Savage Starring: Samina Awan, Tom Hudson

Out 28/04, 95 mins

I

think it’s safe to say that, having seen my fair share of gut-splattering, head-busting, flesh-eating horror movies in my time, I’m pretty desensitised to that kind of stuff.

Yet for some reason there’s something about the faux b-movie effects of Slither that really made my skin crawl, but in an undoubtedly good way.

That said, not everything about Slither is as good as its aesthetic.

There’s nothing particularly new about this kind of affectionate take on classic American low-budget horror. There are other horror-comedies out that beat this one.

Not that Slither isn’t an entertaining film. Writer James Gunn (Scooby Doo) throws several nice twists into an intentionally cliché-ridden plot line.

There’s even the odd joke at the expense of the gun culture of the right-wing, small town, US south.

However, the comedy side is very hit or miss, searching for the funny one-liners amidst the rest of the script is, to quote the film itself, “like finding a needle in a fuck-stack.”

Essentially, Slither isn’t one to flee from faster than the imminent onslaught of an alien/zombie invasion but if you want tongue-in-cheek horror you’re much better off with The Faculty or Shaun of the Dead any day.

Si Truss

16 BLOCKS Dir: Richard Donner Starring: Bruce Willis, Mos Def

Out 05/05, 86 mins

S

Out 31/03, 105 mins

eeing the synopsis of this film one may be slightly put off, it would perhaps read ‘a gritty British drama about the problems of interracial relationships in the North of England’. But Love + Hate, although nothing original, is a powerful, well thought out film with great acting from the leading cast members.

Naseema (the absolutely beautiful Samina Awan, definitely one to watch) is a seventeen-year-old girl from a Pakistani family, Adam is a young man brought up in a background that fosters racial hatred. Over time the two inevitably fall for each other and all that could be expected by way of resistance from the family and their own personal daemons ensues.

Parallel to this is a similar situation going on with Naseema’s elder brother and his “liaisons” with a young white girl. These two storylines let the film examine a variety of issues from the treatment of women in Islam to brotherly love.

The film is full of great scenes, at one point young Pakistani man states how being Asian is the new ‘in’ thing, “we’re all over the TV, the girls love us.” I wasn’t expecting too much from this film but the great acting and moving storyline won me over.

Will Hitchins

I

n 16 Blocks we see Bruce Willis cast as a past-it New York City cop, a role which, despite the already over-the-top use of make-up and fake grey hair, he really feels the need to overact.

The unfortunate truth is that Willis really is a past-it tough guy, there’s very little acting needed. It’s as if he’s trying to say “look I can’t even pretend to be an old man.” The result is that his character just comes across as confused and irritating, like a very unpopular granddad.

Not quite as irritating and confused, however, is Mos Def’s not so intelligent felon, whom Willis has to transport across town (16 blocks across town, surprisingly) to reach his court hearing. Yet all does not go to plan (I know, I was surprised as you are) and the result is 105 minutes of the two most irritating men in New York being chased across town by the city’s most inept corrupt cops. Believe me it’s not as entertaining as it sounds. You can’t help but feel that the situation is only hampered by the fact that Willis’s alcoholic cop has very little idea what he’s doing and no idea where he’s going, which is, ironically an apt metaphor for the film as a whole and perhaps the current state of Bruce’s career.

Si Truss

SLITHER: NEEDS A FUNNY CAPTION FILM@GAIRRHYDD.COM

FORTYFIVE

QUENCH MAGAZINE FILM

THE MAGICIAN: CHALKY WHITE MAGIC

THE MAGICIAN Dir: Scott Ryan Starring: Scott Ryan, Max Andrighetto, Ben Walker, Kane Mason Out 05/05, 85 mins

A

mockumentary in the vein of Man Bites Dog and The Last Horror Movie with the cracking comedy that breathes in Chopper.

The director, who stars here as Ray Shoesmith, is a hitman earning his living and, as the title suggests, a magician by making bodies disappear.

On his journey of knocking off several marks, he is filmed by driver Max (Andrighetto), who is also making a documentary about him, to be released only upon his death.

Scott Ryan, in his own words, “tells this story in a way that no-one has told it before,” bringing a refreshing angle to a seemingly overused concept.

As well as directing, here he acts giving an understated performance, which is uncomforting, as we get a sense that he could exercise violence at any moment. It is hard to sympathise with a character that can be this cold, but the conversations between him and other characters can be endearing.

These conversations heavily rely on improvisation, but this doesn’t affect the pacing and it doesn’t drag. In fact when one can sense the ending, in turn, one doesn’t want that end to

FOURTYSIX

come that quickly. The editing is also very accomplished, considering this a debut from Ryan. At times it builds with gripping suspense, at others it shocks us with a highly unexpected execution.

In the hands of many other filmmakers, this would be highly stylized, with the romanticised violence and gratifying slow-motion sequences of execution, but not here. Instead, this is highly character-driven and through the manner of filming one believes the characters and their situations.

One hostage, Tony (Ben Walker), is particularly endearing, and the audience is never sure as to whether he will live or die. This is repeated, just after a shit-eating, yes a shit-eating dialogue when Edna (Nathaniel Lindsay), conversely to Tony, is executed in real-time which makes it all the more chilling.

The style of filming is reminiscent of Wolf Creek and the Dogma 95 movement, making use of natural light and real locations, all filmed with a handheld camera. The camera, as with The Blair Witch Project, is an intermediary between the two characters, with Max always behind the camera as a moral judge. By doing so, it’s more a fictionalised documentary than a mockumentary.

Don’t let this put you off. The Magician is far from bleak and the dark comedy within it is some of the best seen in recent times on the silver screen. Upon repeated viewings, The Magician is even better. This is the work of a very gifted filmmaker.

Ryan Owen

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III Dir: J.J. Abrams Starring: Simon Pegg, Tom Cruise, Ving Rhames, Philip Seymour Hoffman Out 05/05, 126 mins

F

or the third in the franchise we see the man behind Lost and Alias, JJ Abrams, fall into the director’s chair to helm the not-somundane day-to-day antics of super spy, Ethan Hunt.

As ever, expectations are going to be high. The problem with M:I 3 though, is that it provides exactly what you expect and little more. In general, M:I 3 pushes all the standard action movie buttons. We get all the standard big set pieces, we get Phillip Seymour-Hoffman as a standard menacing bad guy, and even the appearance of the brilliant Simon Pegg as the standard comic relief does little to break up the formulaic feel of it all.

It’s unlikely to disappoint though, due merely to the fact that it’s unlikely, for the third part of such a massive franchise, that anyone is going to be entering the cinema expecting anything different. Watching the film is an enjoyable enough experience, and as you’d expect with a budget this high, the set pieces often look amazing.

Bottom line is that Mission: Impossible 3 manages to be everything the name promises - another Mission: Impossible movie.

Si Truss

QUENCH MAGAZINE FILM PRIME Dir: Ben Younger Starring: Meryl Streep, Uma Thurman, Bryan Greenberg Out 12/05, 105 mins

B

en Younger showed promise in his directorial debut in Boiler Room, a sharp tale of shark brokers in investment banking. With Prime he changes tack completely, turning his hand to romantic comedy with some small success. Uma Thurman is a likeable presence in her role as Rafi Gardet, a New York career woman of Carrie Bradshaw’s ilk who is suffering from a recent divorce.

Upon meeting the oh-so-dreamy painter David (Greenberg), her prayers appear to be answered. Being a neurotic New York-type, she consults her psychoanalyst Lisa (Streep) on the matter of this dashing younger man,

The DVDon

Reviews you can’t refuse THE LIBERTINE Out May 8 Johnny Depp plays the all-drinking, allshagging, Second Earl of Rochester, John Wilmot in this semi-historically accurate biopic. Amidst all of the Johnny related debauchery you might catch sight of Samantha Morton as the Earl’s latest ‘love interest’ or John Malkovich’s King Charles II, but this one is, for the most part, just a vehicle for Johnny Depp. The script’s not brilliant and the supporting cast are often wasted, so probably one for major Depp fans only.

Si Truss The Don Says: “I used to partake in nights of unspeakable debauchery until, one morning after a particularly wild coke binge, I woke up in the Llama enclosure of London zoo and found myself in the company of Pete Doherty, enjoying a life-time’s supply of Muller Fruit Corners. Never again.”

FORTYSEVEN

who unbeknownst to both parties is actually her son.

This set-up provides basis for a comedy where pained revelation and awkwardness set the tone, with Lisa trying to juggle her role as a psychoanalyst speaking in confidence to the smitten Rafi, who gets increasingly intimate in her details of the relationship, and her role as David’s mother.

David, meanwhile, has difficulty coping with the fact that his mother now knows everything about his sex life, down to and including the shape of his penis.

The concept is interesting but the execution is lacking, and though Prime admirably attempts to avoid traditional rom-com trappings, it fails to provide genuine moments of hilarity in the manner of progenitors such as Meet the Parents, despite the appeal of Thurman and Streep in their respective roles. Greenberg is suitably laconic in his role as an initially superficial artist who has an idealistic change after meeting his senior ‘one

true’, but as a comedy Prime falls short, making for passable date-fare.

Ewen Hosie

MARCH OF THE PENGUINS Out May 8 This French nature documentary was a surprise international hit at the cinemas. Morgan Freeman provides the voice-over for the English language version and makes for plenty of emotion, packed into the narrative about emperor penguins attempting to mate in the most hostile conditions on earth. There’s no denying that there’s some great camera work that makes this a truly impressive nature documentary, and it’s got a lot of heart, but theres not really too much information to back it up. This is no Fahrenheit 9/11, so don’t expect anything profound, but hey, if you like penguins...

Si Truss The Don Says: “Once, during a noticeable lull in my love life, i too decided to head to Antarctica in an attempt to mate. Eleven months later I returned home, legally obliged to make monthly support payments to a family of rockhoppers, and with extreme frostbite in an unspeakable area.”

sexy-but-dull Emily Mortimer and sexybut-insane Scarlett Johansson.

Needless to say it’s all going to end in tears. The whole thing is very English, but in a very American way.

Si Truss The Don Says: “I used to coach tennis to the London elite. Then one year at Wimbledon, after one too many bowls of strawberries and cream, I decided to paint my entire body blue and streak the mixed doubles final. Serena Williams never forgave me.”

MATCH POINT Out May 8 Woody Allen’s latest film is a very English romantic thriller. Set in the oh-so-posh world of exclusive London tennis clubs, big business and trips to the opera, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers plays a tennis coach torn between

PRIME: The vision of an older woman

THE CANNELONI SPECIAL LADY VENGEANCE Out May 8

T

he final part of Korean director Park Chan-Wook’s retribution trilogy (which contains the excellent Old Boy) is a slick, grim and sardonic psycho-thriller.

If you like your films with a bit of brain, a lot of style and don’t mind the subtitles then, while it’s not the best, Lady Vengeance still deserves your attention.

Si Truss The Don Says: “I used to date a women who really knew how to hold a grudge, one slip up in the bedroom and I can never go back to Bangkok.”

FILM@GAIRRHYDD.COM

GOING OUT QUENCH MAGAZINE

Staying in...

The new Going Out?

Helen Rathbone and Lisa O’Brien guide you through all the wonderful things going on just inside your front door, so put your feet up and learn to love your very own des res

I

t’s that time of year again, the sun is beginning to shine and your bank balance is looking a little healthier. So where should you head on a night out?

Nowhere. That’s right, staying in is the new going out, well for the time being at least.

With exams looming, crazy nights out will have to be put on the back burner, with revision moved to the top of your ‘to do’ list. A heart and headwrenching prospect I know, so here’s some ideas to ease the pain when you take those all important breaks.

Disclaimer: Most of what is to follow is likely to be familiar to the majority of students, our job is merely to reinforce the fundamentals.

Neighbours: A daily dose of Neighbours is vital to maintain healthy mind, body and soul during all your time at university but never more so than at exam time.

This easy-viewing soap opera comes in two easily digested 25 minute portions, one at 1.40 and

the other 5.35, for you to enjoy at your leisure.

There can be no better excuse to put your revision book down, your feet up and enjoy a cuppa and Hobnob while eagerly awaiting Izzy’s next dastardly scheme (insert evil laugh mwahahahaha).

Cooking: Cakes and pies, cakes and pies, cakes and pies. Need I say more?

Yes? Ok, I understand revision can be a little inspiration sapping, so here are a few ideas: how about baking your best friend a giant white chocolate mouse cake? Don’t mock, I did it and successfully managed to avoid my computer for a whole evening.

But if giant rodents aren’t your thing, how about donning a pinny and testing your domestic god/goddess skills in the kitchen and baking some fairy cakes and flapjacks.

Not only will you be worshipped and adored by your flatmates and any house guests, but it also means you are set for tomorrow’s revision munchies.

Games: Why not put your evenings off to some good use and keep your brain in tip top condition by engaging in a game of chess, the intellectual’s Xbox.

Forget Halo 2, chess is the ultimate in unarmed combat, or so I am told.

It can help vent that revision anger by pounding your friends into checkmate.

Okay, maybe not

GOINGOUT@GAIRRHYDD.COM

as satisfying as kicking ten bales out of a baddy on your computer but what can I say, I’m a pacifist. Or for the literati amongst you how about a Scrabble tournament. You never know, it might even help you come up with that word you need for your essay.

Exercise: On second thoughts...

Sex: It’s a well-known fact that exercise helps to relieve stress, and since going to the gym would involve leaving the house, a quick fumble under the duvet with your nearest and dearest could be just what the doctor ordered.

As for singletons out there, well I’ll leave that to your imagination.

Sleep: You probably haven’t indulged in a cat-nap since the first year, that afternoon sleep that brings with it mind-boggling dreams and a little pool of dribble on your pillow. Well, what better time to rekindle this student favourite than during revision, and help recharge those brain cells for your afternoon work session?

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inally, if you’re adventurous, why not pick and mix from the above. The world’s your oyster.

For example, you could dress up as Neighbours characters (Harold is a personal favourite of mine) while eating pies and playing a game of naked Twister.

Alternatively, you could make an edible version of Scrabble using alphabetti spaghetti and potato waffles.

HAROLD: Everytime I **** your mum she gives me a cookie.

FORTYNINE

QUENCH MAGAZINE DIGITAL

War has never been so much fun...

War-based Digital this week with the exception of old man Pac and a troubled cop BLACK EA CRITERION XB, PS2

T

Gun porn

he team responsible for bringing gloriously catastrophic explosions to driving games in the Burnout series have come up with an equally destructive first-person shooter, the ominously entitled Black.

Black follows the story of a special operations soldier who’s sitting in a jail cell ‘fessing up to a government official about the chaotic missions he’s faced. The game puts you in his shoes as he recounts the missions via flashback. You are bombarded with countless enemies to dispatch with your vast stockpile of weapons. It really is that simple, you move through varying environments destroying anything that moves or doesn’t move, completing the banal mission

BLACK: Explosive FIFTY

objectives Almost everything can be blown to pieces meaning the game plays like the movie Commando, albeit without Arnie’s hilarious jibes. This magnificent scale of destruction has never quite been seen in a console shooter before. The game wisely exploits intense explosions coupled with rag doll physics meaning it’s as entertaining to watch as it is to play. This is partly due to the intelligent use of the aging XBox and PS2 technology, the lighting is incredible, moving from inside to outside you’re first blinded by bright light then as the character’s eyes supposedly adjust things become more distinct.

Rather than aiming for crystal clear images Black invokes pure griminess; blowing up a car makes oily smoke billow high into the air; bullets impact with force leading to the spectacular destruction of wooden doors and thin plaster walls that scatter the floor with debris and leave the air laden with dust. Most spectacularly, this destructible scenery leads to some Matrix-style pillar destruction scenes.

BLACK: Shoot him!

Black looks markedly better than most XB360 games currently on sale The quite obvious stars of Black are its guns and so a lot of thought has been put into making them as over-the-top as possible. This all adds to the game’s exhilaratingly destructive character that builds up to somewhat of an anticlimax at only eight levels long. The lack of checkpoints in each drawn-out mission can be infuriating but replaying levels is never really a chore when a game is this beautifully destructive. The onslaught of action that this game brings however can only be enjoyed in the short term, and like a Hollywood action movie, it won’t leave you in your seat for long after the credits roll.

Chris Pickup All games provided

by CEX near Cardiff Station. The place to buy, sell and exchange games and gadgets.

WWW.CEX.CO.UK DIGITAL@GAIRRHYDD.COM

DIGITAL QUENCH MAGAZINE

THE OUTFIT THQ Relic XB360

E

THE OUTFIT: Concept art, much better than a screen shot

The Shit-Abyss

very so often a game comes along which is so offensively bad that words can’t easily describe it. The Outfit is one such game so I’ll do my best to outline its crimes.

Its main characters are familiar Vietnam veteran stereotypes: lanternjawed, cigar smoking and really really angry, perhaps because they’ve been clumsily shoe-horned into a World War Two scenario. Its storyline seems to have been lifted, hideous German stereotypes and all, from post-war comics for boys. This results in some truly inexcusable trivialisations including most damningly its own cartoon war crimes!

The Outfit is also blighted by some of the most unresponsive, linear, derivative and shoddy game mechanics I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter ensuring that its utterly hateable. To add insult to injury, for a game released on the most powerful console currently available, the graphics are underwhelming and easily achievable on even a PS2. All this can be yours for a mere £50 (now that’s value for money). I could go on but it

BATTLEFIELD 2: MODERN COMBAT EA DIGITAL ILLUSIONS XB360, PS2, XB

doesn’t deserve the effort so here are a few polar bear facts instead: 1. A polar bear’s skin is black and its fur is transparent.

2. Polar bears are so well insulated that they overheat when they run.

3. Single bears have been known to trek and swim as far as 3,000 miles

across seas and tundra in search of food.

4. It can take a lot of seals to satisfy a polar bear.

5. A polar bear can smell a seal more than 20 miles away.

Hooray for polar bears! Sam Curtis and polar bear expert John Lott

BATTLEFIELD 2: Things aren’t looking good for this guy

Style over Substance

T

he fine balance between realism and playability is one that’s rarely mastered. Take, for instance, the seemingly endless debate between Fifa and Pro Evo’; it’s a war between style and substance. It’s the focal point, somewhat ironically, with Battlefield 2: Modern Combat, with ever-developing game engines and good old fashioned accessibility kicking the fuck out of each other.

This sadly boils down to little more than an after-school fight. You know the kind that was systematically organised for a designated time, at a

DIGITAL@GAIRRHYDD.COM

designated place (just out the view of the teachers), and with strict rules over friend interference and blows to the face. And the kind that ultimately ends up with the school jock beating up the small fat kid. Here, the graphics fill the role of bully; playability, the unfortunate fat kid.

Controls are over complicated; the patented system of controlling any member on the battlefield merely leads to confusion, as you flick end-

lessly through the manual while the computer, who always seems to have more men and more guns, systematically picks you off.

Maybe it’s just me; maybe I’m too much of a romantic, who likes his games simple and easy to pick up. Or maybe I’m just frustrated that I’m crap at this. Either way, one for those who like their challenges tough, and their games squeaky clean.

Sam Coare FIFTYONE

QUENCH MAGAZINE DIGITAL

CONDEMNED: CRIMINAL ORIGINS SEGA MONOLITH PC, XB360

H

Decidedly Average

ot on the heels of survival horror classics like Resident Evil and gory creations like the Suffering series comes first person disturb-em-up Condemned. You play a cop who gets framed for the murder of two of his colleagues at a crime scene, to clear his name he goes underground and tries to follow a trail of clues left by the real killer.

Condemned is a bizarre hybrid of good concepts from other games that sadly never gel together. It combines the lack of health and ammunition popularised by Resident Evil, the shocking gory-horror of The Suffering with themes pilfered from the cyberpunk genre. This somewhat unusual combination could translate into brilliance with the right storyline but despite a promising start it quickly descends into formulaic banality.

The game also tries to bring something new to the genre, the designers have created a slick hand-to-hand combat system that allows the player to string attacks together in a similar manner to a beat-em-up. Different hand-held weapons may be picked up or wrenched from walls and each has a different strength or weakness.

There are also a selection of guns left carelessly lying around although ammunition is scarce.

Monolith also make much of the forensic detection system which in reality serves no other purpose than to slow the player down (although it arguably builds tension). Also, worryingly for a police officer trying to clear his name, the hero seems to spend a lot of his time bludgeoning tramps, drug addicts and anyone who gets in his way to a bloody pulp.

It’s not a terrible game. Monolith should be commended for trying to add something new to a stagnant genre and the new elements are entertaining and well implemented.

It’s genuinely creepy too, the modified Doom 3 engine helping to crank up the fear.

The end result is something that’s easy to pick up and play and is quite entertaining but that will leave your socks firmly attached to your feet.

Sam Curtis FIFTYTWO

CONDEMNED: Brutal combat

NAMCO MUSEUM 50TH ANNIVERSARY ARCADE COLLECTION EA NAMCO PC, XB, GC, PS2 Waka Waka Waka....

A

h, the early 80s, those were the days when money was made of wood and there were only eight colours, they had real games then, remember them? Nope?

Me neither. Unfortunately somebody does at Namco and they’ve released a compilation of their biggest hits from over 20 years ago. Among the fourteen classics on offer are Galaxian, Galaga, Pole Position, Pacman, Ms Pac-man, Dig Dug and Nostalgium (not really).

The ‘museum’ in the title is entirely appropriate because that’s where these games belong; the thing is video games have advanced quite a lot over the last two and a half decades. There’s a clear cut-off point in videogame history where classic releases can still be played and appreciated aided by the rosy fuzz of nostalgia. This cut-off point falls around 1990, playing anything earlier is like gazing into primordial soup.

Everything on offer here is too long in the tooth to provide any lasting

entertainment even the Pac himself, protagonist of the only game any of us can realistically claim to remember, gobbles geriatrically across the screen. The collection also boasts a ‘virtual arcade’. This consists of a sluggish 3D menu accompanied by five tracks of the cheapest forgotten 80s music Namco could find (my hopes for an eighties rock tour de force were dashed again). I remember when all this was fields…

Sam Curtis

MS PAC-MAN: If you could only see the colours DIGITAL@GAIRRHYDD.COM

QUENCH MAGAZINE BACKCHAT

Tunnel Vision

By TV Grace Alan Sugar? No thanks, she’s sweet enough

S

ince my knowledge of all things ‘business’ is based on the time when my chips were wrapped up in the Financial Times causing me to ingest a small piece of the FTSE index that got stuck to my chip fork, I shouldn’t really like The Apprentice.

But its success lies not in its theme or premise, but rather the vile and repulsive contestants who, quite literally, steal the show. If these hideous creatures are anything to go by, then I’m quite happy being illiterate in the art of business, but then again, it seems that these so-called experts’ knowledge is hardly fluent.

Take Syed, for example, whose departure from the series was bizarrely sad. This is a man (whose pristine dress-sense masks the fact that he is a COMPLETE IDIOT) being made to organise entertainment on a cruise ship for people who he’d probably cross the road to avoid in the ‘real’ world. It’s apparent that the last time he had fun was in the late eighties when he typed ‘5318008’ into his calculator whilst totting up his profit margins and realised that, if he turned it upside down, it looked like a rude word. Unsurprisingly, his ridiculous ‘Fun Day’ was a complete disaster. Given the fact that the fun consisted almost entirely of unwitting fools being made to run backwards around the deck all day.

The antithesis of Syed would have to be Paul. Clearly destined for great things at a Butlins Holiday Camp near you (unless you’re lucky then it’ll be not so near you). Paul’s incessant bum-wiggling seemed a bit too much for the happy, erm, cruisers. And his dayjob is a ‘Headhunter’. Ahem.

I’d actually grown rather fond of these two imbeciles. Sadly, the same cannot be said for Ruth (the fat one) who consistently made me have to FIFTYFOUR

“

Her sickening smirk gives off the impression that she was the girl who would spread rumours around school that you’d wet yourself going up the rope ladder in PE

SUGAR: “Step into my office baby” suppress the urge to lash out at the screen. Her sickening smirk gives off the impression that she was the sort of girl who would spread rumours around school that you’d wet yourself going up the rope ladder in PE, or that you’d kissed the boy with cold sores who ate nothing but cabbage. Yep, you know the sort.

Ruth would be better suited replacing one of the judges in American Idol. If Simon Cowell’s ‘Big Bad Wolf’ persona transformed Pop Idol from a

bland talent show to a farcical pantomime, then it does the exact opposite to American Idol. He’s the only thing that brings the show down to earth amidst Paula ‘Poor Man’s Teri Hatcher’ Abdul’s pathetic blubbering and Randy Jackson’s gangsta nonsense.

For those of you who haven’t seen American Idol, it’s like every stereotype we associate with the USA has been moulded into an hour’s entertainment, complete with gushing praise and obligatory thanks to god.

They’ve even begun to cut off Simon Cowell with a sharp burst of the theme tune before he gets into full evil mode. Something MUST be done.

I have an idea: why not replace Paula Abdul’s saccharine appraisals with the real deal? Sir Alan Sugar would have a thing or two to say to the contestants, wouldn’t he?

AMERICAN IDOL: Rose between two thorns? Cock between two balls more likely

TELEVISION@GAIRRHYDD.COM

Vinyl

Resting

with Bastian Springs

P

Bastian Springs 2006’s essential new artist

ete Wentz. There we go, I think that cient enough to print a topless pho suffitograph of this highly marketable figur native rock elsewhere on this pageehead of alterKerrang! readers were going to defe. Like any NME on the basis of one article andct to the Way poster pull-out. Ha, I’d also like a Gerard the following words. Libertines, whic to highlight rolls easy on the eyes when it’s lit h always does Pete ‘n’ Carl Exclusive, and up in bold, as glam like heroin dependency. Ther oh, something e’s no theme this week, unless the Emperor’s New counts as a theme, but most of thes Clothes e columns evolve around this notion anyway.

BACKCHAT QUENCH MAGAZINE

Place

The fable goes as follows.

The snooty emperor (Jo Whiley) of (the back of a middle-class Englishfableville town mosh pit) decided one day that she toilet venue with the outfit she had (Travis circa was bored Strokes circa five minutes after they1999, the ridiculous little imp with suspiciou arrived). A s intentions (Zane Lowe) turned up one day, and sew her a very beautiful gown (the offered to the gown was invisible (not unlike Kooks). Alas, capabilities of the Kooks), and shethe music walking the streets (aisles of Rou ended up no clothes on. The End. Or is it..?gh Trade) with

Record No. 32 Fall Out Boy - Sugar, We’re Going Down Crime – Repeat Offender

V

ly marketable Pete Wentz for erse, chorus, same the obligatory stool-stand and verse with slightly difstrateospheric key-change, ferent words plucked and hey presto, an inter-clique from the universal rhyming synergy even Simon Fuller dictionary of angst, chorus, can’t handle. chorus, chorus, chorus again Whilst admittedly, the rest slightly faster, chorus withof Fall Out Boy’s hee-larious out any backing, chorus pop-punk nonsense doesn’t again. fester in the same dank ditch Fucking. Rubbish. Anyone of desperate dirge as this, of Record ITV1’s watched who mysteriously their breakthe Year 2006, will notice at through single, a high place in this juncture, that structurally how not to write a song. Or speaking, this three-going-onrather, how to write a song ditty poseur elt spikey-b eight which rolls off the tongue like is a dead-arse ringer for a Trebor Softfruit, sounds Westlife’s You Raise Me Up. witty, and you can stick a Just replace a duh-duh-duh! safety pin on it and wear it to tossfew a and wn breakdo creative writing club after highthe from faced bodypops

F

BARAT: Cravat

inally! They’re Here!

The rock ‘n’ roll superheroes who are going to save our souls.

Or not.

Be honest, put your hand up if you were genuinely excited about a supergroup featuring Carl ‘boring’ Barat, the drummer from the Libertines (ie the third least famous member of a four-man group), some imbecile who stood in for Pete Doherty when he went gaga, and some leather-clad prick from Reading’s answer to farting in a test tube, the Cooper Temple Clause? Anyone’s who hand is currently raised, you

school, but has absolutely no merit whatsoever.

Patrick Stump (no, not the goofball in bad makeup who looks like Billy Zane, that’s Pete Wentz, he’s the bassist, duh!) sings like a child in a music class who’s just discovered the pitchbender dial on a Casio, while honking out Tshirt slogans like a seagull’s backside at a design student’s ‘’think tank’, and the other three (including the highly marketable Pete Wentz) might as well not bother at all, given they sound like a less convincing Son of Dork.

PETE WENTZ: Highly Marketable

Record No. 33 – Dirty Pretty Things - Bang Bang You’re Dead Crime – Aiding and Abetting (Pete Doherty)

can go straight to hell right now, without passing Go. Now then, keep your hands up if you find this abysmal snotty-nose Lahn-dahn prattling, which sounds like a Libertines-scented turd polished to sound like a tenthrate Shed Seven in any remote way, enjoyable? You fuckers don’t even deserve to have hands!

Fans can argue, that the Libertines were “like, a double act like, dirty scroundrels on the ship to Arcadia mate, like, yeah.” And, in that respect, they’d be right. So were the Kray twins, apart from that they killed their enemies, rather than their fans - arf.

Legend has it that Doherty inspired the artistry in the Libertines, while Barat bolstered the lyrics with the rinky-dink pub-slime we know and loath. It makes sense, whilst Pete has disappeared up the same asshole he shoves his stash up when he arrives in Calais and has doped off to fuckwit city limits, Carl ‘boring’ Barat, minus stinky Pete’s smacked-up dawdling, is left with jack, except a contrived swagger, a terrible haircut, and an arsenal of not-very-good indie-schmindie castoffs. Bang bang good music is the most dead here.

Anyone who can think of a worse idea than Wolfmother, please furnish me with details. bastian@gairrhydd.com BASTIAN@GAIRRHYDD.COM

FIFTYFIVE

QUENCH MAGAZINE FILM

Daisy, Daisy The Brit film of the summer is about to land. Catherine Gee hears from the director and stars of Confetti

S

o you’ve been offered the chance for a co-starring role in the latest Brit-flick starring pretty much every face in the current sitcom scene. The only catch is you’ll be naked for most of the film.

Stark. Bollock. Naked. Would you do it?

“I don’t know, to be honest,” muses Martin Freeman, when the question is put to him.

“I begged to do it,” interjects Stephen Mangan, star of Green Wing.

“But Debbie begged me not to.”

Freeman laughs. “Everyday,” he jokes. But it’s a question he’s not sure how to answer. “It’s genuinely difficult, having done a bit of nudity and not even full frontal. I don’t know what I would have done but fortunately Debbie never wanted the nation to see my balls.”

Freeman and Mangan both star in the newest British mockumentary, Confetti, which, believe it or not, is about weddings. In this world of reality TV, director Debbie Isitt wondered what it would be like if people were competing for their weddings and set the film in a magazine-run competition to find the most original ceremony.

FORTYTWO

Then she decided the whole thing should be improvised.

“It was a mammoth undertaking,” she breathes. “I think halfway through the shoot I was thinking ‘what have I done? Why have I done it like this.’

Although, I knew I had some really great material, don’t get me wrong.

From minute one they were brilliant and funny.”

It wasn’t easy for the actors either.

Armed with just a vague idea of what

MATT AND SAMANTHA

(MARTIN FREEMAN AND JESSICA STEVENSON)

Old-fashioned romantics who want a wedding inspired by Hollywood musicals.

Unfortunately Sam’s mum (Alison Steadman) is determined to dominate the proceedings.

MICHAEL AND JOANNA

(ROBERT WEBB AND OLIVIA COLMAN)

Displaying a rarity in British cinema, themselves.

All of them. As avid naturists the couple are determined to have a full nude wedding, much to the dismay of Confetti magazine’s uptight editor, Vivien.

JOSEF AND ISABELLE

(STEPHEN MANGAN AND MEREDITH MACNEILL)

Ultra-competitive tennis pros to whom losing is not an option. They dream of winning the competition with their very own Wimbledon-themed wedding.

FILM@GAIRRHYDD.COM