quint magazine | issue 1 by quint

Contents editor’s note.......................................04 masthead...........................................06 contributors........................................08 news...................................................10

Photography impossible project..............................12 photographers to watch.....................16 who needs creativity?........................28 10 golden rules of lomography...........38

Fashion retro....................................................40 color as a WMD..................................50 phioro by clare parode.......................54

Music zahra soar..........................................58 dub fx................................................64 wild strawberries...............................68 reviews..............................................72 kicking the internet in the nads.........76 everything to come...........................78

Film kickass...............................................80 reservoir street dogs..........................82 5 films you should really watch..........86

Design featured designer...............................90 5 design blogs...................................110 portfolio - quint.................................112 people of quint.................................130

Literature & Creative Writing god bless you, mr rosewater............148 reading list........................................148 monged............................................150 the writing on the wall......................152 woodstock........................................156 standing by a wall.............................162 i’m in you, you’re me........................164 message board..............................165

Last Call the eastern bloc questionnaire.........166

IN THIS CITY OF INCREASINGLY TOWERING STEE FLITTING TOURISTS, AND UNFATHOMABLE NEVER IMPORTANCE OF CREATIVITY, SUBSTANCE, AND C FAST-PACED DAYS OF SHOPPING SPREES AND FIND OURSELVES DESPERATELY LOOKING FOR W OXYMORONIC LITTLE CITY. FROM THIS, AN IDE CREATIVITY, AND SO, A GROUP OF US HAVE COME T STRANGERS, TO PUT TOGETHER A PUBLICATION T AND OUR INNATE DESIRE TO CREATE SOMETHING CAME ACROSS REAL TALENT AND THE POTENTIAL HERE. THE SUPPORT FROM AND COLLABORATI CEMENTED OUR BELIEFS THAT THIS CITY IS FILLE INDIVIDUALS WHO WE HOPE TO GIVE A PLATFORM IN ANY AND EVERY WAY THEY SO DESIRE.

WE HOPE THAT THIS MAGAZINE WILL ENCOURA A CREATIVE COMMUNITY AND PROVIDE AN OPP REPRESENTED AND APPRECIATED BY PEOPLE ALL ENJOY.

EL STRUCTURES, ENDLESS BARS WITH ENDLESS R-ENDING ROAD WORKS, WE OFTEN FORGET THE CULTURE. AS THE MEMORIES OF THE BOOMING, MILLION DOLLAR YACHTS BEGIN TO FADE, WE WAYS TO EXPRESS OURSELVES IN THIS STRANGE EA WAS BORN TO CREATE AN OUTLET FOR OUR TOGETHER WITH FRIENDS, ACQUAINTANCES, AND THAT REFLECTS OUR THOUGHTS, OUR MUSINGS, G REAL. AS WE EMBARKED UPON THIS FEAT, WE L FOR A MODERN CULTURE TO GROW AND THRIVE ION WITH SO MANY LIKEMINDED PEOPLE HAS ED WITH TALENTED, IDEALISTIC AND INSPIRING M FROM WHICH THEY MAY EXPRESS THEMSELVES

AGE YOU TO EMBRACE OUR MISSION TO FOSTER PORTUNITY FOR UNDISCOVERED TALENT TO BE L AROUND THE WORLD. - zaina shreidi

quint magazine | 1st issue | July 2010 Editor in Chief Zaina Shreidi zaina@quintdubai.com Editor Dariush Kamyab dariush@quintdubai.com Editor Tom Paye tom@quintdubai.com Design | Illustration | Art Directon Gyula Deรกk gyula@quintdubai.com Photographer Adam Erdesz adam@quintdubai.com Photographer Barna Szoke barna.dubai@gmail.com Contributors Prank Moody, Kiko Hindash, Trevor Bundus, Mohamed El Amin, Danny Pagarani, Ciaran Roe, Eszter Laki This production and its entire contents are protected by copyright. No use or reprint (including disclosure) may be made of all or any part of this publication in any manner or form whatsoever without the prior written consent Quint. Views expressed in Quint do not necessarily represent the opinions of the editors or parent company. Quint is a trademark of Spirit Consulting FZE. Contact hi@quintdubai.com

TOM PAYE

MOHAMED EL AMIN

TREVOR BUNDUS

PRANK MOODY

Tom began his writing career whilst studying in Sixth Form, regularly posting blog updates for his friends that he had left behind in his previous school. In sixth form, Tom discovered a love for literature that he never knew he had, and about the joys of arguing his own points of view. After a brief stint studying Politics at the University of Kent, he enrolled at the University of Chichester studying English, these University years confirming his aspirations to become a writer of any kind.

Mohamed El Amin is a grumpy 60yr old man trapped in the body of a 25yr old boy. Moe spends his time split between fantasizing about Captain America’s golden locks, Batman’s dreamy blue eyes, and cursing his future self for not sending his younger self a time machine so he could finally bugger off to Greenwich Village so he can hang out on 42nd street listening to Bob Dylan while buying Allen Ginsberg enough booze so that his standards become dubious enough for them to shack up.

Trevor Bundus, grew in up on the prairies in a lonely place called Saskatchewan, Canada. Being surrounded by vast desolate wasteland, he developed an inclination toward swearing and biting at a young age. The next 18 years of his life were consumed with honing these dark arts. This has translated into his harsh and often brash writing style, of which he is well known. He never wanted to be a writer, in all likelihood, he may never be a writer, but rather that guy who loves to interject his opinion wherever he sees fit, regardless of the consequences.

Jim Jarmusch. Arrested Development. Miles Davis. Zepplin. Hendrix. The Wire. David Lynch. Al Mallah. Tapas. Arsenal. Park Chan Woo. 70s Robert DeNiro. Grunge. Muddy Waters. The Who. Pink Floyd. Nina Simone. BB King. Kurt Vonnegut. Tom Waits. Charles Bukowski. Mary Jane. Woodstock 69. 69. Single Malt. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. The Way of the Gun. Tarantino. Godard. Fellini. Audiard. 80’s John Woo. Palahniuk. Nietzsche. Hornby. Chris Morris. Californication. Archer. Sergio Leone. Charles Bronsan. Dizzy Gillespie. Thelonious Monk. Radiohead. Nine Inch Nails. The Usual Suspects. Double Indemnity. Chorizo. Charlie Kauffman. Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Dave Chappelle. A Tribe Called Quest. Saul Williams. Ursula Rucker. Mandela (Winnie not Nelson). Kurosawa. Beat Takeshi. Takashi Miike. Jean Pierre Melville. Joe Pesci. Steve Buscemi. The Blues. Jebneh ou Jambon. Natalie Portman. Nouvelle Vague. Blaxploitation. Ghost in the Shell. Samurai Champloo. Twin Peaks. The Sopranos. Taquito. Massive Attack. The Roots. My Peeps. Mi Familia. Roni Size. Film Noir. Rage against the Machine. The Black Keys.Infinite Mayhem.Lather.Rinse.Repeat.

Having lived in the cosmopolitan areas of Dubai and the Costa Del Sol, and the not-so-glamorous Chichester and Canterbury, Tom has known a huge spectrum of different people and cultures. He writes mostly criticising the British government, making references to how things can be, and are better elsewhere, but has an opinion on almost everything else, and is only happy to share and argue his points. His writing reads with a passion that sometimes defies common sense but almost always makes for an interesting read, whether you love him or hate him. This month, Tom takes us through why he thinks the film Kick Ass is worth buying when it is released on Blu Ray and DVD, and why he’s glad that the swinging 60´s are times that he can fantasize about, not look back on.

Moe discovered the wonder that is the internet in 2001, and proceeded with the pigheaded goal of collecting every byte of music floating in its creamy center. He works for an antipiracy firm, so the ironic hilarity of the situation is doubly so. He has studied in several universities, but found them all to be as lame as heaven. He recommends Thus Spak Zarathustra as a more efficient substitute.

His trek toward the Middle East began with a bitter divorce with a 9mm bullet on a surgical bed in Toronto, bringing him to the sunny skies of Dubai where he later was called to his desolate hermit lifestyle in Abu Dhabi. Trevor is drawn to the stranger things of life, and prefers to champion objective individualism, through the spirit of man and brain. You can hear his preaching on all things music, male fashion and poetry. He has no awards to date, no accomplishments, no humour and no character as he finds them too mainstream. You may find him in the dark alleys and dank stairwells hangin’ with his jin and tonic.

CIARAN ROE

DANNY PAGARANI

KIKO HINDASH

ESZTER LAKI

Ciaran Roe has completed an MA in English Literature and Italian at the University of Edinburgh. In 2010 he was amongst the prize winners in the LLAS National Writing Competition. Ciaran was also enrolled for a year at the Università di Bologna, where he studied philosophy and cinema. It was during this year that he was able to travel extensively in the ‘Bel Paese’, including a trip to his grandfather’s POW camp outside Sulmona, Abruzzo.

All he knows is cold. No beginning, no end. Neither time nor space. Just cold.

22 year old Kiko Hindash has never been interested in anything churned out by a major run-of-the-mill fashion designer – overrated, high priced pieces discouraged her from ever picking up anything designed by the ‘elite’ of the fashion world.

Eszter Laki was born in Budapest, Hungary in 1983, and graduated from the Printmaking Program at the University of Fine Arts, Budapest in 2007. Since then, she has focused on her own art and design projects, and has been working as a graphic designer.

This visit inspired this personal – if not personalized – passage. The excerpt deals with the flux of feeling that courses through the young protagonist as he scrutinizes the camp before him, wondering what relevance the walls have in the contemporary world.

And then, an explosion of pure sweet light. He has a name. He has a past and a future; and a here and a there; and a now and a then; and a now then shoulda woulda coulda will. He has a who am I? He has a name. Danny Pagarani feels the weight of existence bearing down. The pressure is immense. Now there is something to be said. Well? Danny sits at a desk. He types at a keyboard. Danny stokes his chin and rather self-consciously stares out the window. How did I get here? Explain yourself. Danny sits at a desk. He types on a keyboard. Face to face with the task of writing the story of a life not yet lived; he wonders what contortions, compromises and cheap conjuror’s tricks he will have to use. He wonders how the telling of his story will affect the living of his story. He shivers catching a glimpse of a shadow in the mirror. His doppelganger. Petrified, he sees that his double has no face.

Instead, the Macedonian/Palestinian Kiko cites ‘anti fashion’ icons such as Rei Kawakubo and Vivienne Westwood as her major inspirations. Other influences include the ubiquitous 60’s model Twiggy, Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Alison Goldfrapp of erm… Goldfrapp. When stringing together outfits, her inspirations range far and wide. Lace-infused My Little Pony creations stand shoulder to shoulder with Balkan peasant punk concoctions in Kiko’s wardrobe. In this issue, she blends the 50’s with the present, mixing leather jackets and cute polka dot dresses with more recent punk, indie and preppy styles. Also a self-taught make up artist, she is extremely attentive to detail and open to new ideas when applying her unique touches to her subjects’ war paint. As clichéd as it may sound, Kiko Hindash is never fearful of mixing and matching, though predicting what she’ll put together next continues to baffle the fashionconscious among us. Find her at a flea market near you!

On top of her design work, she is also now studying Typography at the University of Applied Arts, with a view to completing more projects as a contemporary artist. Her interests include typography, and public, street and land art. In this issue, Eszter’s contributes illustrations for Writing on the Wall by Danny Pagarani, and I’m in You, You’re in Me by Trevor Bundus. Interested in her work? Some of her projects can be seen online here: http://www.behance.net/lakieszti

Mcbess 2D Illustration

www.mcbess.com

Described by some as modern vector art, and by others as a contemporary realisation of 40s and 50s cartoon art, the undecided would say that it’s both. Either way, you can’t ignore the ironic, slightly black humour with which these drawings are composed, the images speaking of the hopeless discontent with society that the artist holds. Don’t take them too seriously, though; they’re just cool pictures.

Kibardin Digital LED Clock This stylish and delightfully fancy clock is from Kibardin Design, who specialise in all things stylish and delightfully fancy. What’s special about it? Well, there’s no case, there’s nothing in fact, just four polycarbonate digital “8” panels that show the time by lighting the different sections up black in daylight, and translucent white in the dark. Though only in the manufacture and presale preparation phase of production, we reckon if you ask them nicely enough (and are willing to fork out the cash), they’d send one straight over

www.kibardindesign.com/collection/collection10/black-white-clock.aspx 10

NYC The

Polaroid Project

Remember the days of Polaroid pictures? Andrew Faris does. In 2003 he embarked on a new adventure in the chapters of his life to New York, freshly graduated from the Kent State University, and armed with a Polaroid camera. Every picture perfectly captures the awe-inspiring excitement that he felt at being in such a new and different environment, and he’s been snapping away for seven years. Handily, his photos are available to view online for all the world to see.

www.nycpp.com

Lomo Spinner Camera

Here at Quint we’re big fans of lomography, particularly of the way it uses old and simple technologies to create new and dynamic ways of photographing things. The Lomo Spinner Camera is a perfect example of this; it’s just a camera on a handle with a string attached to it. Pull the cord, let go, and the camera spins 360 degrees around it’s own axis whilst recording an image of whatever’s around you. The photos it produces have a frame that’s four times longer than your conventional landscape picture, and the examples that can be found on the internet really are astonishing.. microsites.lomography.com/spinner-360/

Umbro Champions Collection For this summer’s FIFA World Cup, Umbro have created a range of unique, iconic shirts representing each of the seven world cup winners. Using their latest ‘tailored by Umbro’ philosophy, each country’s shirt includes a specially designed crest from a creative artist picked from each nation. The shirts combine traditional football

heritage with artistic input from graffiti artists, tattoo designers and cartoonists to appeal to football fans and fashionistas alike. More information can be found at

blog.umbro.com

photography

by Dariush Kamyab

photography

“DON’T UNDERTAKE A PROJECT UNLESS IT IS MANIFESTLY IMPORTANT AND NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE.” Edwin Land American inventor of the Polaroid camera.

Poor Polaroid. The company that gave you the ability to view your most memorable moments drenched in a nostalgic aura of odd colour saturation in an instant decided to stop production of its film in February 2008. Digital cameras with their fancy-dan screens, on-demand editing and ever -increasing megapixel counts gave the Polaroid instant film a massive kick to its iconic white-framed behind. Apparently, the world just didn’t need Polaroid film anymore – we’d all look like idiots shaking our Polaroid pictures – even OutKast’s name-drop couldn’t save the doomed medium. Annual sales of the Polaroid camera hovered around the 10 million mark by the time the Polaroid execs made their announcement – a far cry from the 1960s, a decade in which an estimated

half of all American households owned one of these boisterous, clunky photo-spitters.

of instant film for a variety of Polaroid camera models by the time stocks of existing film ran out.

A cry for help went up from thousands of affected, dedicated camera-owners, and Mr. Florian Kaps, an eccentric Austrian artist and businessman duly answered. Mr. Kaps had kept the Polaroid movement alive throughout the noughties, establishing Polanoid.net – the internet’s biggest Polaroid galleryand Polanoir, the first ever Polaroid-only art gallery in Vienna.

The result? As of March 2010, two new products have been released by the project – the PX-100 Silver Shade compatible with the classic Polaroid SX70 camera and the PX-600 to be used in Polaroid 600 cameras. Plans are afoot to produce colour film in the near future.

Herr Kaps and friends have thus pressed on with an initiative they call the ‘Impossible Project’. By re-opening the Polaroid film factory in Enschede, Netherlands in conjunction with the photography company Ilford, the project aimed to produce its own brand

Time will surely tell whether or not the project will succeed – can the project really deliver the impossible? Can the world’s favourite camera survive in an age where downloadable digital applications such as the iPhone’s ‘Hipstamatic’ offer sepia-induced bliss at the touch of a button? It’s possible.

photography

WOV[VNYHWO

OLYZtowatch

photography

photography by Dariush Kamyab

I’d never been a creative type. I’ve known that since I was very young. I tried my hand at painting and drawing and never got past stick men with smiley faces. I gave learning an instrument a go and could only play a few chords on guitar (enough to play for Babyshambles, I know, but still extremely unsatisfying). I played drums completely the wrong way round. I tried photography and couldn’t seem to ever get the lighting right. My girlfriend chose my outfits. Photoshop scared the living bojangles out of me. At the age of 16, I consigned myself to a world without creativity. I’ll become a business student, I said. I’ll work 9 to 11 and hand reports in to my boss who’ll shake his head in perpetual disappointment because I’m ten minutes late, I said. I’ll take the packed metro home to my fast-asleep wife and cold dinner left in the oven, I said.

I’ll live a grey, monotonous, depressing life with no space for music, art or design.

photography

Imagine my delight when I opened up one of those free fashion catalogues that staff drop into your bag alongside even the most minimal of items ( I think that day I’d bought some hideously baggy jeans) and was struck by the heading:

“Not Feeling Creative? Lomography To The Rescue!” A collage of photos on the following page widened my eyes in wonder. They, the article described, were taken with ‘LOMO’ cameras – old Russian stock from the 70’s and 80’s that a group of Austrian students had publicized across Europe throughout the 90’s within a movement they’d labelled ‘Lomography’. Vladimir Putin, Moby and Robert Redford were fans. Most had vignetting around the corners, were blurry, extremely kitsch and consisted of multiple exposures (two frames shot on top of each other). Others showed ordinary scenes around cities and towns which were awash with a bright primary colour. Street musicians played their instruments in an ocean of azure magnificence. Couples kissed in passionate shades of red. I viewed a dog’s face peering into a camera lens which had the curvature of a fishbowl. Pictures had been taken with plastic toy cameras with four, six, eight lenses. Those who took the pictures displayed them mounted on panels exhibited in Tokyo, New York and Berlin – a vast sea of expression, diversity and freedom.

photography

I was hooked. The line at the end of the article explained that anyone could do this. Anyone could create art like this, just go and find one of these cameras. And find I did. In a Kuala Lumpur shopping mall, on a family holiday thousands of miles from home, I became part of the 500,000-strong Lomography movement. I purchased a ‘Holga’ that day – a Chinese toy camera that weighed less than my mobile phone, but was substantially larger. It comes with a roll of electric tape, the instructions telling the buyer to tape over the back of the camera ‘….to prevent light leaks into the film and the back from falling off’. Brilliant. It also uses the forgotten 120mm style of film that has to be rolled manually to every frame, allowing for the mind-boggling opportunity to take one picture on top of another. By experimentally adding elastic bands and cotton wool to strategic points inside the camera, users can use 35 mm film and take pictures that cover the sprockets themselves. A flash built into the camera can be switched to four different primary colours, bathing your photographs in an electrifying/ soothing aura. I took pictures of anything and everything - blending street food with Burger King logos in the same picture and wiggling the camera around inviting streaks of light to burn the film became second nature. I made my friend jump into a swimming pool three times just for an awesome effect, I blended red, blue and yellow flash colours into my cats fur coat.

My first roll of film brought a tear to my uninspired eye. They were beautiful.

photography

I went LOMO-crazy, first grabbing a ‘Fisheye +’ a camera with a curved lens that turns the outside world into your own little bubble - then the four lensed wonder ‘Supersampler’. Finally, I picked up the camera that started off the whole thing, the tiny, robust ‘LCA Kompakt Automat’ direct from St. Petersburg. Nothing could beat the feeling of taking a complete film to the developers and going through your crazy prints afterwards. My friends marvelled at these wonderful, kooky images – impressed that someone like me could so deftly enter the art world.

I did it, I had finally, finally become creative. No more stupid future job, no more unsatisfying future lifestyle,

I Would Be Boring No More.

photography

I did end up becoming a business student. My boss, however, is a great friend. I’m not married yet and drive home every day and cook my own, hot food. Since I bought my first LOMO, I joined two bands, played numerous concerts and have started to disagree with my girlfriend’s clothing choices (in moderation, of course). I’ve had some photos displayed in a gallery (a real one!!), too. I’m not saying Lomography changed my life, but it definitely created in my mind an awesome knock-on effect, urging me to delve deeper into the creative world. Anyone can do it, anyone at all, and the best thing about it is, no matter how many people decide to start snapping away with LOMO cameras, your shots will always be the most creative, trust me. Visit www.lomography.com for more information on cameras, photographs and the movement itself. A selection of LOMO cameras can be found at Gallery One, Mall of the Emirates, Dubai.

photography

10 Golden Rules of Lomography 1. Take your camera everywhere you go 2. Use it any time â&#x20AC;&#x201C; day and night 3. Lomography is not an interference in your life, but part of it 4. Try the shot from the hip 5. Approach the objects of your lomographic desire as close as possible 38

6. Don’t think (william firebrace) 7. Be fast 8. You don’t have to know beforehand what you captured on film 9. Afterwards either 10. Don’t worry about any rules source: www.lomography.com

fashion

stylist kiko hindash photographer adam erdesz models shaza saeed | mishko hindash | sara hindash | mustafa kamal kassouna

fashion

I was standing in a store in Toronto on Bloor Street at the ripe age of twenty-three. I was happily in a relationship that I’ll kindly refer to as, the Infidelity Disaster project. At that moment, life was peachy. I was only thinking about sugar and spice and all those things nice, not knowing that six months later I’d be arguing on my cell phone in the middle of a gas station about my then freshly ex girlfriends exposed debaucherous alcohol infused cheating antics. Now that I’ve got that off my chest, I can get back to writing about a favourite subject of mine, men’s fashion, or lack thereof. Now, little did I know at that very moment in that very store on that very Bloor Street that my next transaction that very night would have a very profound impact on my fashion sense for the rest of my single life. For this, Gentlemen, was the beginning of my exploration into the world of “peacocking” and the use of colour as a weapon of mass destruction. Peacocking you say? What the hell is that? Well...this is where the ladies get a lot more interested in men’s fashion, and my article about men’s fashion. Let’s hope they read this far, don’t blame me for not trying to hide it from them. I gave them two paragraphs of fluff. Ladies? Women don’t actually care about fashion; yes I said it! They care about the men under the clothes, trust me, I know. I spent the better part of my life as a fat guy and still managed to speak to a few girls. You see that night in that store; I was being helped by a very camp store employee. He was continuing to push this yellow, orange and green striped shirt on me. I was, of course, resisting. He persisted that once I tried it on, that “with my complexion and my dreamy hazelnut eyes, it would look,” - how did he put it? -

“To die for!”

I madly marched into the changing room, tried on the shirt and indeed felt the overwhelming feeling that this shirt had some potential. I strutted my 165 pound frame out of the changing room much to the delight of the store’s employee, who then took it upon himself to get his “friend” to make comments

about how it brought out the green in my eyes without being too over done. It was all jabberwocky to me to be honest, as I had one thing on my mind: What the hell are my buddies going to say when I waltz through their door with a canary yellow shirt on for the evening. I’m not going to actually tell you what they said, but I bet you it’s the same reaction that I would get from a majority of the male readers of this magazine. Oddly enough, this reaction would contradict the silent wish of all the women still reading to see what Peacocking is and how that very word can change the course of your peaceful boring existence. Let’s fast forward a bit here shall we. I ended up single as you had probably figured out by my lengthy introduction. Two months later, I had decided to pull out the old yellow shirt again from the depths of my closet and give it a go on the single scene in Toronto. There was one more influencing factor that evening as I ploughed through the brown, black, and grey shirts to the very canary hanging silently, deadly in the corner: I hadn’t bothered to keep up on my laundry, and the other shirts were unworn from my slightly larger days as a fat boy. You see, it was fate. The old canary was there for me when I needed it and it was about to take me on some sort of magic carpet ride through the endless psyche of the single woman’s mind. Ladies, you interested yet? You see ladies, I’ve figured something out about you and it took me all of 23 years plus a few more figuring out what the hell was going on, to come to it. This secret method is called Peacocking. It is the basis of my fashion article this month, and, guys, I highly suggest you get out of your PlayStation warrior gear and listen up. This is going to directly affect your personal relations, the level of woman you can now attract, and how well you do with said attracted woman. A word of warning however, this takes guts, which is part of why women like it. Now, some of you more forward thinking men are already flipping the page, b/c you know exactly where I’m going with this Peacocking business. Shall we delve right in?

We shall!

I’m willing to bet that most men and women know exactly what a peacock is especially a male peacock, and how its looks differ from its female counterpart. Yes, I watch copious amounts of Nat. Geo Wild. For a male peacock to...ahem...how do I write this diplomatically, expand his DNA into the masses, he’s first got to spend a lot of time trimming, plucking, grooming etc. The difference between you and him is that he doesn’t care about the latest hair gel that costs 8AED at the shop next to the mosque in his neighbourhood, he cares only about one thing: his Tail! Unlike human beings, all of his display is going to take place from the rear view. His tail is the only way he can accomplish the same male goal as any other testosterone carrying member on this planet. He’s got to get on the jungle dancefloor amongst all of those supposedly better looking, stronger, richer, better car owning, taller peacocks and find himself a sweet lady peacock who can curl them tail feathers. That sweet lady on the other hand, is instinctually looking for the best genes. I’m no nature expert, but all the peacocks heads look the same, beak, eyes, feathers..boring. But that tail, my god, now that’s something. She also, just like humans, doesn’t really notice it too much in the day to day, because the male keeps it hidden and tucked away, just like us lackeys in black and navy blue suits, white shirts and blue ties. See my point? We spend a majority of our time trying to blend in and be normal when we should be sticking our necks, or tail feathers, out there, when we walk out the door because we never know when that stroll through the lush jungle vegetation will result into us running into that sweet peacock lady. So Gentlemen, I’m gonna tell you how to do that. You should begin by getting a note pad and making a few points proven in nature about peacocking. It will help you, after reading this article, not to revert to your usual habits of boring, look alike clothes. Ladies, yes, I’m giving them a few secrets to break that often impenetrable fortress of flaming hoops we’ve got to jump through in order to utter a few nervous words toward your earlobes.

Let’s begin. Quite simply put, you need to start wearing colours. The brighter the colour the better. Please see above about my old friend, still with me, my canary yellow shirt from FCUK. It still carries the exact same charm it did so long ago! I’m going to put this into steps for us men out there, because this is how our brains work:

The peacock chooses to display his largest features, and no I’m not talking about his unmentionables here or yours for that matter. I’ll take this moment to point out that you should probably stand closer to the toilet seat because the evidence left after you’re done in the Loo would suggest that it’s much shorter than you think it is. Whooops! Author included! Anyway, humour aside, choose the piece of clothing that displays the most area on your body. The main point here is to draw immediate attention to yourself.

Reason: Again back to the peacock for evidence of proof. Like male peacocks we too must waltz into public territory amongst so many other men and make an immediate impression. We shall use colours to do this. When the peacock enters the area of a female he begins rustling and displaying his feathers. We do the same thing, in the mirror before we head out the door. Once the colour is in correct orientation and that pesky piece of cow-licked hair is pressed down in the back, (thanks to saliva in 90% of the cases), we rock out the door and hit the nightlife. The most important time to be noticed in women’s eyes is when you walk through the door. Just like the female peacock, she too wants to see what fresh game is on the market. So, the largest piece of clothing on your body should be the brightest or the flashiest. This tells a woman when you walk through the door that you are a man with guts, one who is not like the rest. A man who doesn’t care what his buddies are saying behind his back, or all the insecure guys in the club are bad mouthing in his general direction or directly into their girlfriends’ ears, while she thinks otherwise. This is your grand entrance, and it’s now your game plan to make it your entrance worth remembering. You must enter with a smile that backs up your confident attire, and this is the key point. Remember what I told you about guts and pulling this off to good effect. Well take my advice and find out for yourself.

Let’s do our best to match dark with light, to further bring out the colourful entrance.

For example, my canary yellow shirt that night was offset by very dark pair of Citizens of Humanity Jeans, with much wear in them (yes I purchased them that way). The point here is that you want to draw attention up to that big zesty smile of yours and away from that un-zesty procreation tool that your parents genetically gave you at birth. This also allows the woman to do her natural one look up and down toward the shoes. And yes, sadly it’s true, but women do care about shoes. Why? Because it’s the proof. I’ll get to that in point 3.

a. Reason: You’d be best to hide chicken

thin legs through the use of dark jeans as well. Nothing says “this man couldn’t protect my family in the jungle against a wild boar trying to snipe one of my offspring,” like a nice set of chicken legs. Guys, stay off of the bench press and get into the squat rack, a strong Gluteus Maximus is the prime mover in horizontal dancing, if you see what I’m saying. Not to mention, you want to have the secret weapon concealed for later once she realizes that this strong confident man in a canary yellow shirt, actually has a powerful prime mover which can prove to be very useful. Protection speaking only, of course.

Ahhh...the shoes. Now it depends what kind of a dude you are, but if you’re cleanly polished and new into this world of colour, then it’s suggested you don’t try to overdo the shoes. Let’s focus first on getting colour into your closet and into the arsenal like that new sand wedge you’ve just bought. If you’ve got a bright shirt and dark pants, then it’s best to go neutral and neat on the shoes. I suggest Kenneth Cole for this; he seems to have achieved this effectively, without being out of date, old, or just plain ugly. Dark blue looks better with brown, especially with light coloured shirts as I’m suggesting. White is also pretty safe, but you run the risk of being a bit too “night at the Roxbury” so choose off whites or creams or something along those lines.

Reason: As the woman is instinctively attracted to your shirt or jacket or largest piece of clothing as you stumble through the door full of liquid courage, she’ll by pass the dark jeans and go right for the moment of truth, your shoes. Don’t forget you can’t have one without the other. You can’t walk through the door with a very bold confident colourful shirt, and then have an old ratty pair of dress shoes on. She will spot this major faux pas faster than she spots a fake Gucci hand bag

in Karama Market. The two must go hand in hand and this is the most important part. Drive that colourful shirt home, with a well chosen pair of shoes that tells her that someone other than your mother picked out this outfit. This is paramount, women are good at spotting the poseurs, so be sure to pay attention to the shoes on your feet just as you check the tread on your car tires. No one is going to feel safe driving home in anything with bad tires. Sad but true. Sadly gents, we don’t have many ways to peacock ourselves especially in a somewhat conservative country full of very picky women and a 7 to 1 male to female ratio. So, what can we do to increase our chances of impressing that bird on the dancefloor that catches your peacock eye? Well, as I have suggested all through this article, we use bright colours to make that impression. Try to be different, try to make your personality stand out through what you don’t say to her. The real trick is to get her attention, and then follow through on that with some semblance of legible conversation. Actually, even if you are stumbling your way through your opening act, your bold, colourful fashion sense will cover you better than your buddy playing wing man to the right. She’ll just find it...teehee.... “cute!” So take it from me, a proud member of shirts with half fluorescent arm sleeves, dark blue and multi coloured sleeve numbers, that the colours work. In fact, as I write this article, I’m wearing a pink t-shirt, which I remember an ex-girlfriend commenting on how cool it looked when she met me at a house party. I’m not the nicest, the best looking, the richest, the tallest, the best smelling (whoops), but you know what? I still refuse to remove that canary shirt from my closet because I know that bad boy proved indeed to be “To Die For!!” I’m sure by the time this article prints, and gets out into the UAE market we should start seeing a lot of guys walking through the door with bright coloured shirts, and I’m going to have to go write an article about how wearing black, grey, brown or something else boring is peacocking. You see, it doesn’t matter about what the colour in fashion is, just aim to be different, that’s what will work every time without fail. Still don’t believe me, go spend a few lonely days in Papua New Guinea and see how the peacock does it.

fashion

It is a known fact that jewelry fascinates a considerable percentage of the female population. However, jewelry designer Clare Pardoe’s vision goes beyond what a young woman typically sees when she encounters a particularly sparkly bauble. A typical 20-something’s eyes would linger on the shining diamonds, the thickness of the gold bands, the weight, even the precision of the cut. Clare, however, sees movement, life, soul, and a facet of self expression in the materials she molds to create her the collections in her jewelry line Phioro. With two collections and a third on its way, twenty-five year old Clare has entered the world of jewelry design with much aplomb. And why not? The young designer’s love for jewelry is evident in the passion with which she approaches this particularly arduous art form. Every collection has strong conceptbased meanings, which go far beyond the main reasons of making beautiful jewelry to simply show off and sell. This is so much more than a job to Clare, and it is clear she appreciates the opportunity to undertake such creative work. Music to the ears of true jewelry aficionados, every piece in the Phioro jewelry line are handmade. She is also open to commissions for one off pieces, having considerable experience in creating unique masterpieces that embody the imagination of the wearer. The entire line is incredibly personal to Clare, with the logo containing her own initials, and the collections limited to only 19 pieces each – her lucky number. The name Phioro is a combination of “phi-“ which is a reference to Leonardo Da Vinci’s golden ratio – the ratio for everything beautiful, and “-oro” which is Spanish and Italian for “gold” – a prominent material in Phioro collections.

“My work is designed to provoke a lust to touch and feel each piece, creating a sensual experience for the end-user. I think the beauty of the female form, in every shape and size should be celebrated, women often find something to criticise ourselves about, but I want to enhance and draw attention to the beauty of our curves and the subtle differences in the parts of our bodies we take for granted.”

Clare’s first collection, which debuted in 2008, perfectly embodies her vision and desire to express sensuality through her jewelry. Aptly titled “Mother’s Love”, the collection consists of pieces which undulate with voluptuous female energy. Each piece is raw, strong, and resilient without compromising the delicate beauty of the female form. Dimples in the curves of the jewelry are adorned with sparkling diamonds; long, graceful chains recall ribcages and the ubiquitous round charms of polished precious metals, which define the collection, convey a feeling of warmth and elegance. Traditional silversmithing techniques are used to achieve these effects such as planishing, which results in the soft texture of the metals, as well as rapoussé, which is used to create the small details in each piece. One of the main themes in the collection is capturing negative space, something that has fascinated Clare for, as she explained, it gave her a chance to work without feeling limited by the

materials she used. She could, in essence, bring her materials to life as they surrounded and encapsulated the space around them. “Suspension of Reality”, Clare’s sophomore collection, maintains themes of strong female energy, however, this collection is more whimsical and experimental. The collection, as the name duly suggests, a beautiful escape from the mundane realities that pervade our day to day lives. Clare explains, “My intention with this collection was to give the impression of capturing nature’s wildness, if only temporarily and holding it in a freezeframe for the wearer to behold as a statement against our everyday lives.” The entire collection recalls magic and mystique, with influences including the abstract surrealism of Salvador Dali’s work, dark fairytales, orchids, butterfly wings, and the magical creatures and intricate and enchanting play of light, color, and shape in John Cameron’s masterpiece, Avatar. After her earthy collection “Mother’s Love”, Clare was inspired to let her imagination run free, translating these musings into a collection not limited by the here and now. “I just suddenly thought why am I designing jewelry for this day and age where I could be designing for the future and be ahead of my time.” With two incredibly charming and meaningful collections, and insurmountable passion and imagination, Clare clearly has no plans to slow down. Her third collection, Arabian Tempest, will debut in Fall/Winter 2010. This mysterious and rich collection is an homage to the rolling sand dunes, Arabian architecture and

calligraphy of her birthplace. Clare describes, â&#x20AC;&#x153;This collection captures the essence of Arabian Beauty that I have grown up around. It is close to my heart and has been something I have wanted to pursue for a long time. Now I have made the move back to my birth place, I feel it is the perfect time to launch this collection.â&#x20AC;? With such innate talent, passion, dedication to creating true art, Clare Pardoe and her jewelry line Phioro are certain to be names on the lips of everyone who has an eye for truly precious pieces. The ability to impart deep meaning through her work places Clare at a great advantage, for she is not merely making and selling jewelry, she is creating timeless works of art that hold within them the self-expression of a truly enigmatic young lady.

music

by Tom Paye & Zaina Shreidi

photography Tiffany Allen

music

Writer, radio personality, DJ, photographer, Zahra Soar seems like nothing less than the Queen of creativity, and she’s managed to thrive here in Dubai. Kindly, Zahra spent an afternoon with Quint’s Zaina Shreidi explaining everything from her love for music to her widely listened radio show to her passions on writing and photography. A much more interesting personality than she gives herself credit for, this is what we got down to. “I knew that music was always going to be my focus.” Having graduated from University College London when she was 21 (a massive achievement in itself ), Zahra began work experience for Dubai 92 FM with only a small amount of film and music video editing work behind her. After a dedicated six months, she caught her lucky break in the form of another presenter leaving and was offered to fill in for the 6-10am slot. As good as this was, it wasn’t enough for the young and eager presenter, so she asked the bosses for more. What came up were the beginnings of her current show, Open Mic with Zahra; ideas were thrown around a presenter meeting and they eventually decided to do a show focusing on musicians hailing from the UAE, allowing them to showcase their own music.

“If you’re on the radio, you’re really nervous, I mean, I’m nervous every time I go on the radio and it’s been five years.” No one could say that this new project simply sprang up out of the ground to become the show it is today. Zahra admits that it was hard for the first four or five months, with considerable teething problems, and who can blame her for it? She wasn’t particularly well known and didn’t know so many local artists, so it was difficult to fill up the show with local talent. Many bands were apprehensive about performing live on the radio; what would she talk to them about? Could she provide the right equipment? Basically, would she make them sound like idiots? There’s also a strange psychology amongst some musicians; as Zahra puts it, ‘a lot of people can go up on stage and perform in front of 45,000 people, but you put a radio mic in front of them and they think “ooh no, what’s this?!”’ Despite the initial difficulties, Zahra quickly proved that her show was a brilliant platform for local artists looking to get their music heard. Initially knowing more singers and acoustic acts, she began to ‘know people who knew people who knew people’, and she started to reel in the rock and metal bands, each week finding more and more talent with a desire to be exposed. As things stand now,

thanks to her own increased exposure and the ever popular Facebook and Myspace, Zahra enjoys broadcasting a balance of genres between acoustic acts, solo singers, and full on bands that play anything from metal to jazz.

“For some artists, music is just something that they share with their friends and family, and occasionally I’m lucky enough to be a part of that.” Zahra tries not to make opinions on certain groups, particularly on air; partly to maintain a standard of professionalism and partly because she insists on at least trying to see the merits of any genre. When asked about the attraction of real, raw music versus the ultra commercial, she simply reiterates this point; her unfaltering, friendly open mindedness would put any Genre-Nazi to shame, because let’s face it, everyone’s entitled to their own musical tastes. She says that some of the best musicians she’s met have been very introverted and unwilling to share their creations with the masses, and despite her best efforts, sometimes they just won’t budge. Because of this, she’s extremely appreciative, not to mention supportive of anyone that’s willing to step up to the mic. The ‘ultimate litmus test’ came when a feature began broadcasting on Tuesdays on Dubai 92. Essentially it was the best bits of Zahra’s show (which is now on Dubai Eye) from the previous Saturday being broadcast in the middle of the afternoon, when people were driving home from work or parents were collecting children from school, resulting in a completely different audience to the late night Saturday listeners. Happily, despite the odd cry to get this unheard, unadulterated, unclean mess off the air, the response was overwhelmingly good, proving that radio listeners really did want more from their stations than the same old Top 40 every week. We like.

“I love music without a doubt. Playing music is a little bit of a grey area, because I’ve tried so many different instruments and failed miserably with most of them!”

The modest Zahra admits that performing with instruments has never been a particular strength of hers. Despite this, she recently found an instrument that she felt comfortable with; the bass guitar. She’s only been playing a short while, but has already attended a couple of band practises. She can now fully appreciate the feeling of comradeship and adrenalin when playing with a group, which any musician can tell you comes out of the rush of getting something perfect coupled with the fear of hitting a bum note that might screw everyone else up. At the moment she’s just practising with friends, but stated she’s on the hunt for her own band, so if any of you Dubai readers are interested, give her a shout on Facebook (she loves Facebook). Let’s not give the impression, though, that Zahra is a stranger to other kinds of musical performance. She’s a well-known DJ who’s performed regularly at popular Dubai bars such as Alpha and The Irish Village. She says, ‘Everyone seems to go from radio into DJ’ing, I don’t know why but it just happens this way’, and so it happened for her. She was taught how to mix on a basic level by a colleague, and then about the particulars of House music which was apparently, not her thing. Happily, Zahra noticed a gap in the market which an alternative/rock and electronica DJ would be able to fill quite nicely, and she was ‘pushy and annoying’ (her own words, not ours!) in getting to be the one for the job. Having started at weddings, parties and private functions, she played her first non-private gig at Alpha in early 2008, and revelled in the opportunity of being able to play pretty much anything she liked, and though she’s got good experience behind her now, she says she still learns new things all the time. This year, Zahra began performing at The Irish Village, an idea she gives credit to Mike Ross for, and one which she relished, as she admits that she’s happier playing in bars than in clubs, where there isn’t so much pressure to play huge, pumping tunes. The evenings they set up were shared between four DJ’s; Zahra, Mike Ross, Mad Hatter and DJ Solo, and together they were, and still are, called The Bad Doctors. All pretty established names on the Dubai scene by this point, the jockeys had

photography Natasha Carella

just one prerequisite for their nights; to play as much new music as possible. They printed out set lists, made them available online so that others could check out anything they heard and liked, and generally had some fun with it. Unfortunately, the weekly event has been halted for the summer months due to the intense heat that just wouldn’t be tolerable in the outside venue of The Irish Village. Again, if anyone reading this would like to offer a venue for the summer, please get in touch with Zahra, because we at Quint would like to see more of these Bad Doctors.

“I knew that there was stuff to say about the music scene here that nobody was saying.” Earlier on, we eluded to the fact that Zahra is also a writer, and amongst everything else, she is. It’s a great passion of hers. By 2008, she noticed that Timeout Dubai were getting there in terms of shedding more light on the local scene, and she wanted to help. Does she want us to put the next part in? We will anyway; too shy to do it herself, she asked her boyfriend to speak to the music editor (with whom

she’s now good friends) about the possibility of doing a column focusing on what really mattered to the local talent. Editor James was sold on the receipt of Zahra’s brainstorms, and writing weekly for an entire year, they wrote a mix of fact and opinion, discussing everything from licensing laws to touring to the costs of recording. Unfortunately, in 2009, after a year of providing such useful information, they both became busy with other projects and the column came to an end, but Zahra describes it as a great run, and if you’re interested, a number of the articles can be found on her Facebook group online.

“When you’re starting out I don’t think you need a manager as much as say, if you’re touring or you’re quite big and you have a record label, but you need someone who’s got your back.” Aside from her creative endeavours, Zahra’s got management and PR expertise; working, for example, for UAE-based hip-hop act The Recipe, described by Timeout as ‘Dubai’s own hip-hop super group’. She’s obviously done

something right, then. They approached her asking if there was anything she could do to help get their music out there, and given her background in radio and writing about music, she was obviously the ideal person to be doing things like marketing and press releases for them. Typically, Zahra is gracious in her involvement, explaining that they’re all very capable and independent people but was flattered when invited to be a part of what they’re doing. We very much approve of this act, so we recommend having a listen to some of their tracks.

“Because there are so many African bars and night clubs in Dubai, it’s been quite easy to find musicians, in fact easier here than in Addis Ababa! Which is weird.” Zahra recently did a trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and by this point in the conversation we’re struggling to come to terms with the multitude of projects she’s been involved in. Naturally, she went in search of music, with the aim of compiling a radio documentary about the scene there. Zahra compares Addis Ababa

music

photography Natasha Carella

to Dubai in that you really have to know where to go in order to get to see the musical lives of the residents, and you can see her point. How many hotel bands are there here playing Hotel California or Summer of ’69? We’ve all boasted to visiting friends that we’ll take them to the best places around, places a tourist would never find, so the comparison stands. No matter to Zahra, though; she persevered by talking to taxi drivers or shop owners, demanding to know where they went for their music, and she eventually found herself amongst the back alleys, small bars, and a thriving local scene. According to her findings, Ethiopia is huge on hip-hop and reggae which incorporates traditional African music. Seems apt for the setting. The documentary comes in two parts, the first of which has already aired but will be made available on the Facebook group, so don’t worry if you missed it. Whilst the first part deals with musicians in Addis Ababa, the second focuses on Ethiopian musicians living in the UAE, asking them how things compare to home, whether they prefer it here and whether they’d go back. The episode airs on Saturday 10th July, so try and tune in for it.

“I love taking pictures when people are in the studio, because it’s such a different atmosphere to when they’re on stage.” Another feather in Zahra’s cap is her love for photography, which started out as a hobby but turned into another way to help musicians. She began by taking pictures of artists whilst they were on her radio show, and realised quickly that most new artists are need in of decent photos to send out in promo packs. With her aim, as always, altruistically focused on musical talent, Zahra soon approached an MC with whom she was friends. She explained that she wasn’t an amazing photographer with brilliant equipment or her own studio, but she could do some very acceptable shots, for free. She’s still willing to do this for anyone willing to ask, out of a love for the art of photography combined with her never ending desire to help musicians that deserve to be heard. “The studio can be overwhelming, but that’s why I see it as the next frontier because it’s such a huge step.” When asked about the future, Zahra explains that her next big wish is to be able to record these local artists who she’s so intent on

helping. She’s not expecting to become a professional sound engineer overnight, but she’s up for the challenge, and sees it as another area in which people will be able find some use of her. Aside from this, announcements on some new directions that might be taken by her radio show will be made this month. It’s been going for three years, so everyone involved is very much looking to take it to the next level, with the possibility of becoming more region-focused, rather than city-focused. Whatever the future holds, things definitely look bright for the young presenter (writer/ DJ/photographer – you choose), and we hope to be able to report more on her achievements as and when they happen. All in all, she’s a top woman. If you’d like to get in touch with Zahra regarding anything to do with what we’ve mentioned here, you can easily get in contact with her on Facebook: http:// www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/group. php?gid=2418056386&ref=ts For tracks from the artists of The Recipe, visit: http://www.last.fm/music/The+Recipe+Dubai

photography Natasha Carella

music

by Tom Paye & Zaina Shreidi

music

Dub FX and Flower Fairy

are a couple hailing from the UK who collaborate on much of the music that they make. Despite being unsigned and rising to fame predominantly through the street performance scene, the two have gained a massive following around the world, playing shows wherever they’re invited. Quint caught up with the pair by e-mail to see what makes them tick, and to see what’s in store for the future. Dub’s unique selling point is that he’s a beat-boxer. If you type his name into YouTube you’ll be treated to scores of videos of him performing live in high streets and clubs. Most of us have seen or know someone who practises this art, but it’s usually cool for about five minutes, then the songs become same-y and repetitive. What makes Dub FX different is that he records his own loops live, through an effects pedal, and plays them back on top of each other whilst constantly adding new sounds. He’s become so adept that a lot of people can’t believe he’s simply making these sounds with own mouth and looping them together, something he takes as the biggest compliment he can receive, and something that we’re not surprised about. The range of noises he can make is unbelievable; everything from the fuzzy bass notes to the clicks of hi-hats sounds spot on, so it’s no wonder why he’s gained so much popularity since he first started busking four years ago.

Now constantly on tour, Dub FX released his debut studio album, Everythinks a Ripple, back in the beginning of 2010, and though it may not sound like it, all the sounds really were made with his own voice through the loop pedal which is such a foundation to his performance. Having grown up listening to punk rock, he claims to now be influenced by a wealth of different genres, something that becomes clear when you listen to his music. As most serious musicians though, the real inspiration comes simply from the different circumstances which his own life has brought him. Arguably one of the biggest influences on Dub’s music, and the success that followed is his Fiancé and touring partner Flower Fairy. The couple met at a gig back in the early days of Dub’s busking career, and they’ve been making music together ever since. Her playful vocal and lyrical style, and edgy English accent, sits well in the midst of all the funky sounds coming from the lungs of her partner. Don’t think she’s just an accompaniment to someone else’s show, though; Flower Fairy’s debut album is to be released very shortly, and if her previous work is anything to go by, it promises to be a cracker. This pair have made their fame based on nothing but talent, with no corporate backing or record company to help

them along the way. They’ve got fans all around the world, and have often travelled to obscure places to perform at the request of their loyal followers. Here’s hoping there’s enough incentive for them to make it out to Dubai soon.

DUB FX & Flower fairy

What are the origins of your names: “Dub FX” and “Flower Fairy”? Are there stories behind the names?

Dub FX came to me the first time I ever went busking with just a loop station and an FX pedal. When somebody asked me what my name was, I told them Benjamin and they laughed. I had to come up with a name quickly and in an instant I came up with Dub FX. Flower Fairy was a name I gave to her as it raps up everything she is about!

When did each of you start making music? What inspired you to make music together?

Do you collaborate with anyone on lyrics, and if so, who? What are the main themes or topics for most of your songs? Do you think these topics will change over time?

I write all the songs myself, and the lyrics will definitely change over time as I can only write about things that makes sense to me, and as time goes on, more makes sense. The topics and themes depend on my mood but I usually write about awareness or love.

Could you describe your music-making process?

I started making music when I was 16, and Flower started making music with me when we met. She used to sing nursery rhymes and I would beat-box as we walked down the street.

Every song is written differently, sometimes the lyrics come first and sometimes the music first. Sometimes I write with a guitar, and sometimes I listen back to freestyle recordings from the street and turn them into songs

We will continue to release music though convoyultd.com, which CAde [Dub’s friend and manager] and I started up. We will also release other projects and artists here in the future.

The biggest challenge is to keep things fresh when you’re constantly doing show after show, and I overcome that by taking my mind off it through various non musical activities like watching films, reading comics and being social.

We understand that you do not have a record label, are you looking to sign with one or will you continue to release music independently?

What can you tell me about the loop pedal that you use? Have you always used it? How did you learn to use it?

The loop pedal started off as a bit of fun but I never started using it properly until I started busking four years ago on the street. Even then I realised that people were more impressed by the loop station and I started only using that. Soon it became a foundation of my show. The loop station is an incredible piece of equipment with endless possibilities.

What are your favourite and least favourite venues? Do you prefer street performances or organized events?

I have performed across most of Europe East and West, Australia, Japan and New Zealand. Each country is unique in it’s own way and I enjoy performing everywhere. I have no preference with performing on the street or in clubs, I just like to keep it fresh. Amsterdam, Manchester, Brighton and Christchurch are some of my favourite cities to play in.

Which songs do you perform most frequently? Do you only play the songs you’ve written and recorded or do you freestyle as well? I mix it up every show, doing a bit of freestyle and a few requests from the crowd. I basically try not to repeat myself from show to show.

What has been your biggest challenge as a musician? Have you been able to overcome that challenge and if so, how?

What’s your ultimate direction as a musician?

I don’t have one, maybe North West?

Would you consider playing in Dubai? Yes, I’ll play anywhere.

Dub FX, do you have plans to release another album soon?

Yes we are days away from releasing a Flower Fairy debut album, and a Dubstep album called A Crosswords which I produced with my friend Sirius. That album has no beat boxing on it we just produced it together.

Flower Fairy: what can you tell us about your upcoming album? Are you collaborating with anyone on it? When will it be released and how can your fans buy it?

It combines nursery rhymes with contemporary beats in a playful but mature way, which aims to reach out to a vast age range. For the album I collaborated with my partner Dub FX, he produced, co-wrote and performed on the album. I also collaborated with a few musician friends to create a live atmosphere in certain songs. The CD will be available to buy from www.convoyunltd.com in a few weeks. http://dubfx.net/album/flowerfairy-nursery-gryme

Last words?

You are what you eat.

music

It is a well known fact that Sweden is a haven of musicians and arty folk alike. Amazing imports of the chilly country include the likes of Abba, Roxette, A-Ha, and more recently delectably refreshing musicians and bands the likes of which the rest of the world dreams to churn out with such regularity. Thus, it is a pleasure to announce the arrival of a talented trio, the â&#x20AC;&#x153;Wild Strawberriesâ&#x20AC;? from the musical wonderland upon the eager shores of Dubai.

music

The Dubai music scene is often times lacking, with real talent hard to find, and great bands few and far between, however, we are finally graced with an amazing trio who mark 2010 as their third year in this tiny, glittering, yet often times musically barren city. Hidden away in the oldest hotel in Dubai, Jebel Ali Golf Resort and Spa, the “Wild Strawberries” consists of three incredibly talented musicians: Kristofer Karlsson (guitar/vocals), Jessika Lundstrom (vocals), and Benjamin Onnhend (bass, vocals). The trio never fails to blow their audience away with their ridiculously impressive talent, humor, and infinite musical knowledge. Diverse covers of gems from well loved bands and musicians to underground artists and originals entertain any and everyone who has had the pleasure to sit back and soak in the special blend of “Wild Strawberries” aural delight.

Each “Wild Strawberry” has a wealth of talent and extensive experience which has resulted in truly well-rounded and adventurous “troubadours” as Kris humorously dubs them. Their musical styling reflect their diverse backgrounds and tastes with a single set including gems from Johnny Cash to John Mayer, Tom Petty to Kings of Leon, and Aretha Franklin to Dolly Parton. The three are not limited to covers however. With extensive experience in song writing, the three oftentimes perform originals which most definitely hold their own alongside gems from rock and roll legends. Kris, tall, lanky, and blonde, manages to impress one and all with his spot-on guitar skills. Dubbed the “acoustic magician” thanks to his ability to flawlessly play and improvise hundreds of songs with the ease

and confidence of a true professional and the humor and modesty of a truly cool guy. Jessika’s remarkable voice ironically leaves me at a loss for words. Everyone is left awe-struck as she hits every note with utter perfection; and her covers put the original songs to shame. Nailing songs such as “Simply the Best” and “Jolene” are feats most singers only dream of, but Jessika does a hell of a lot better – she reinvents these songs so that just a few seconds in, you’re convinced that these songs were made for her perfect voice. This is Benjamin’s first year in Dubai, but his musical experience is as broad as they come. From writing and performing his own songs, playing both guitar and bass guitar (quite regularly thanks to a collection of over 2 dozen of the instruments), touring the world on for gigs, to side projects such as his band Vanguardian and his electronic project Robots with Hair, Benjamin is certainly not one to waste time or talent. The trio explained the origins behind the name “Wild Strawberries” as a reference to the eponymous Ingmar Bergman film. Translated from Swedish “Smultronstället” is said to refer to an undervalued deeply meaningful place. We can only hope this will hold true as a description of Dubai. A place where, despite, or perhaps due to all its contradictions and complications, somehow still manages to draw in talent from around the world. Prepare yourself for wild antics, impromptu medleys, and absolute musical bliss as the lovely and talented Jessika, Kristopher, and Benjamin take Dubai by storm.

Genre:

As the first so called musical kick at the cat for the first edition of Quint Magazine, I was pretty excited to write about music. The problem is that most people, including the taxi drivers next to me in Abu Dhabi traffic, happen to think I’m intensely weird. You see, I have this thing where most things popular on the radio are like “so 80’s,” which I oddly enough think is cool. When I bought my new car, the stereo quality was a very important feature for me. I would have purchased a “Desert Warrior” Mitsi Lancer if it came loaded with a Bang and Olufsen stereo to damage my already fledgling ear drums; but, I digress. I’m a dude, and dudes from Saskatchewan love loud stereos, mullets, and strange music. Despite all this babble, I am actually getting to a point here. The reason I’m talking about strange looks, loud car stereos, and Saskatchewan (look it up!), is that this musical review will focus primarily on music I like, and if you don’t like it, well the silence of suicide might be a better suit your tastes. What I’m saying, in a nutshell, is that the music I write about is perceived by many to be strange, just like me. This month I’d like to talk to you about something I found on one of my many delectable walks through YouTube. I was really searching for something that would tweak my interests without sounding like anything else I had already played out. You know that feeling you get when you walk out the door and you feel like turning left when you normally turn right, even if it means you’ve got to take four lefts just to feel like you’re going in the right direction? Confused? Me too! Well, this was one of those days. I was feeling kind of bland with my 6 disc routine and decided to take it upon myself to do some Sherlocking around the internet. I happened to begin, as I normally do: on my balcony with a set of headphones, a pack of Dunhill’s, a chair (naturally), and the starting point: Equal Vision Records. Why Equal Vision? Well another one of my all time faves came from this breeding ground and I figured I’d have a lollipop with the website. What I found in short time, was our good friends from Down Under: Closure in Moscow. I’m not going to lie, the timing of this article is strange considering the events in Moscow, but that’s another topic to be discussed by someone with more brain power and more patience than yours truly. Let’s get down to business shall we? Remember about 3 paragraphs ago when I told you I like to consider myself a weirdo, or a music nerd or whatever you want to call it? Well this album certainly appealed to that side of me, and also brought me back home to a small town in Saskatchewan, Canada, where the first song title, “Kissing Cousins” was not such an uncommon thing. I also want to interject here and note that this column will be my opinion, to which I think is far superior than my readers, and I am not really interested in being a bit of an art fag and

disputing the reasoning behind the music. To me, music is to be enjoyed by the individual, the lyrics must be obtuse and abstract so that the song reminds you of a situation in your life or brings you right back to some memory. I would also like to state that, the title of this song does not bring me back to a point where I was kissing my cousin or promoting kissing cousins, I’m just saying that as I read the lyrics and listen to the music, I will point out certain points in the songs and try to make you focus on something that really gets the speedometer on my car to the upper limits.

wives. I’m sure he lost count. But what I’m even more sure of is that he could have easily used this song to boost his waning soy laden libido.

So, let’s begin, since I’ve babbled enough about small towns in Canada and favourite pastimes of its inhabitants. Kissing cousins...

There are no points to focus on other than the parts between 0:00 and 4:05. The whole song

The other thing that strikes me about this song is its biting lyrics and satirical title. Sarcastically is how I interpret it, but I’m not sure that’s what the band intended. Behind this hardened exterior is a man with some pretty romantic intentions, so of course the meaning behind the lyrics, of not being in love with someone who loves you, is certainly close to my heart! But this isn’t a Dear Dr. Sue article now is it?

Kissing Cousins:

Not much unlike seeing your high school crush walk through the door at the grade 8 dance, and feeling for the first time that you’ve got testosterone cursing through your veins. The hypnotic melody is almost like playing your old records on a speed too fast for the size of the record. After you’ve mustered up enough courage to talk to the poor girl, the 2:28 mark reminds me of kissing that girl at the high school dance for the first time. Although, I truly hope that your high school crush wasn’t your cousin!

Reindeer Age:

Somehow a Christmas reference? Reindeer must age quickly after tugging that fat bastard Santa around the globe in one night! The start conjures images of hooves on the rooftop and staying awake all night waiting for said fat bastard to deliver you that new bike, without questioning how he gets it down that chimney or how he himself gets down the non existing chimney. Just like the song, you don’t care; it’s the excitement of it all that gets you going. As the song goes on you begin to realize that even in your adult life you still think that Santa is pretty cool. The lyrics like our old Saint Nick are abstract enough for me to groove this on repeat a few more stop lights at a few higher decibels. 2:24 brings unreal breakdowns the likes of which have not been heard since Santa fell over after drinking mom’s special eggnog! I can’t say enough about the guitar and bass in this band. This song is no let down. The ending is amazing, like some sort of gratification that you actually got what you want for xmas even though you know you were a little bastard the entire year!

Sweetheart:

I’ve never been caught singing so much in the vanity mirror at traffic lights in my life. I just couldn’t get enough of this, even though most will undoubtedly think it’s slightly girly in the chorus, it just does something that clearly brings me back to my days swimming in amniotic fluid. From start to finish, I’ve never felt so close to marrying a song before, but I might have to check the Sharia laws on this one. The beginning is a “2ja3oujeh” (juicy in Lebo Slang of course) mix of Oriental chamber music, clearly the mating call of the late emperor of China considering he had something like 90 kids or

is killer, so killer in fact, that it might have accompanied me all the way to the office in the morning. If you do one thing with this album, its hit repeat on this song and let it sink into the deep dark memories of having to break that poor girl’s heart for the first time. “I’m dying to feel what you feel now, You’ve already been such a sweetheart.........”

Vangaurd:

How do you beat that last one? Tough act to follow undoubtedly. Oh wait, how bout smashing us with another sick guitar riff ? After all that downer business, it’s time for a coffee, and Vanguard indeed is just that. Not to mention the more than timely starts and stops contained within this little dance-floor crasher.

A very close second on this tune is the bass line. It reminds me of my mother stirring creamy mashed potatoes whipping every last harsh bit of tuber into a buttery fat injection. This song is all about amazing breakdowns and well timed pauses filled with somewhat technoesque samples or instruments well beyond this author’s recognition ability. There are even clap samples contained within. You may find them, should this song strike a chord within your lower bowels, at the 2:35 mark. By this time you’ll surely be moving the top ends of your legs, so why not give a standing ovation to the artist here for creating an absolutely stellar song, while managing to keep your house head girlfriend in

and emo kids all over the world can appreciate the talent of our dear departed friend Mike. You may find his undisputed influence around the 2:32 mark. And for those who know me and how much I roll my eyes, you should be hitting skip on the disc and returning to the 2:35 mark of Vangaurd for confirmation of the above point.

I’m A Ghost of Twilight:

I do love the very Mars Volta feel of mystery and emotion behind the beginning of this song. Shit, at this point you must be thinking I’m in this band, but I just can’t find a fault so far. The juxtaposition of the chorus and the verses are something like feeling the vodka mix with the red bull. The slow tempo mixed with the overpowering chorus drive this song. And just to make sure a boy from Sasky gives good reviews around the Middle East, they decided to put in some steel slide guitars in true country music style. I do hate country, and you shant be finding this music pirate doing any sort of country music reviews, but I sure can do with a steel guitar in the middle of a song. When, by the way, my humble audience, have you found your favourite radio rocker using a steel guitar? Right..didn’t think so.

Permafrost:

This is just like running through the funny mirror house at the Saskatchewan small town fair after smuggling in some ‘unmentionable’ beverages. I’m all for atmosphere and music as a vehicle, and this song surely is an excellent example of this. It does indeed have a very wintery feel especially after Ghost of Twilight. As a kind of intermission to the disc, this will appeal to your 70s hippy side as it has recalls the musical styling of Pink Floyd, to which I am certainly not opposed. Although, if it catches you on a bad day, it might just be powerful enough to evoke tears. Yes, I am being slightly dramatic, but how else would you describe beautiful lyrics mixed with haunting guitars? Exquisite.

Deluge:

the passenger seat entertained at the same time. Hey, us weirdos are all for equality now aren’t we.

A Night at the Spleen:

Did I just park my car and step into a punk rock jazz bar, complete with a horn section? I’m not gonna lie, I’m weird and this song is too, so by sheer default, I should like it. It also contains some beautiful Slash guitar solos in it. Wait, is this just me liking the musical variety of this song, or is it just that Closure in Moscow, knows that at this point I’ve been to the office all day and it’s time to find some tunes that both boy and girl can enjoy without a fight for the disc select button? I think so. There are hints of Mikey J in this one as well. See punk rockers

Genuflect? Not sure how to spell that or what that means, and I’m surely too lazy to look it up in a Dictionary, much to the distaste of my Grade 10 English teacher. However, the lyrics certain make you wonder what we’re in for now. Anywho, after the complete eargasmic bliss virginally offered by the first half of this disc, I come to the point of dislike for the first time in the disc. Terribly sorry, but the pop like feel doesn’t sit well with me; a bit like waiting for that uncertain feeling of sickness after visiting a dodgy Indian restaurant. Your stomach isn’t quite sure whether to let it fly on through or hit the eject button and try again. I feel much the same about this song, sadly. ‘Nuff Said.

Afterbirth:

Might I suggest that this should have been the name for the previous song? Anywho, that song review was finished prior. I do like the much diminished feel to this song, and again I draw attention to the Closure in Moscow tricks: well timed stops, amazing guitar licks and strange

inflections in singing. I’m also quite fond, as a musician, of the hooks and breakdowns in this song. I’d like to thank Closure in Moscow for getting back on track after the previous ‘Deluge’ of sewage. Ahhh....back to music you can drive your car to. Thanks! Please pay attention to the breakdown at 1:40. It’s like the song started skipping just at the best breakdown. Well done Kath! Just when you think you’ve had enough of that very unique riff, they give you one last boot in the arse on the way out the door. Bravo!

Aricebo’s Message:

Someone really should give the lead guitar player an award because he takes a refreshingly new approach to the way in which he plays his instrument. I really dig his Asian influence, mixed with fast riffs that seemly do not fit, but are tied together nicely with the vocals. At the risk of being predictable, our friends at the Closure in Moscow camp decide at 1:24 to just change time signatures, surely fans of Dream Theatre. I really don’t mind to be honest! The time change is perfect for the lead into the chorus, which I happen to think is as catchy as that last Mariah Carey song we caught your sister dancing to in her bed room while she blow dries her hair. Admittedly, I do dance before exiting the house, usually with my best partner, the bed side mirror. Let me tell you, this song will definitely be next on that “Pre-Barty Blaylist!”

Couldn’t Let You Love Me:

Two things just in case you missed them prior: Cool guitar riffs and serious appeal to the whole, “Whoops! I just broke your heart.” Couldn’t let you love me...don’t worry Closure at Moscow, I’ve got issues too. We’re not alone!

Had to Put it in the Soil:

Wait, have I heard this before? Yep, guess they decided to do something with the lyrics from before. They overlapped this in a very emo style, but then let the amazing guitar works take over from there. As I said before, I don’t mind! The only problem is that to end an amazingly climatic album with this happy go lucky style song with heartbreak lyrics seems a bit of a letdown. Oh well, suppose I’m not in Closure in Moscow so I don’t really get much of a say do I? Overall, I can live with a few hiccups, but I have to say this album might be one of the best ones I’ve heard start to finish in a long time. If it doesn’t evoke a few emotions in you, it might be time to check your zombie status on some lame Facebook application! This album delivers on all cylinders. Yes, I’m a man, and we like car references and girl references especially all mixed in together with an amazing album like First Temple, by Closure in Moscow. I happen to think that this album is fighting hard for a chance to be staring lovingly into my eyes on the alter while my family and friends get teary eyed at the sheer romance between a man and his music.

Album Review by Mohamed El Amin

Majin by Machinefabriek Genre : Ambient/Drone/Glitch

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve been reading up on House of Leaves a bit lately (by bit I mean 4 times in the past 2 weeks.) and this is the most perfect soundtrack for it. If there was ever a soundtrack that was worthy of being played alongside Mark Z. Danielewskiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s claustrophobic sections of House of Leaves, it certainly is this. An unprecedented sense of eeriness and doubt, a journey through the depth of oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mind where secrets dreams and nightmares dwell, areas we shut off to make us able to move on, to make us sane. Marijn treads throughout every corridor, footsteps echoing at it slithers and creeps towards each and every door, first sizing it up, glancing through the keyhole and finally (but equally as hesitant as it is determined) it unlocks and opens it.

Machinefabriek compositions draw comparisons to the Ambient Virus; Deathprod. but if anything, he manages to match Deathprod toe for toe at what he does best; weaving provocative and haunting scenery that most of would rather not view, because the are simply daunting to try and absorb. The amount of rubles and scratches piled atop loose and bewildering repetition may seem mind numbing at first, but the simple and sparse piano notes aid in shaping them into fleeting images of our sub consciousness; dark and dreary. Dark and lonely, dark and unbearable. Shattered dreams, hopes, bonds & aspirations. It mimics every negative emotion that overtakes the human soul and brings it tumbling down into a mess of hopelessness and decay.

The textures and sliced and drowsy notes fade, flicker, and dart past your ears as it evolves as sharp goose bumps traveling from your spine to the remainder of your body. Despite being so haunting and probably provoking images of events or actions you would otherwise want to remain hidden, you are entranced, compelled to travel down the hallways, filled with an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. You open each door, taking a glimpse into worlds that shape your very core. And as the intensity and haze builds up so does your fear, your anxiety and your sense of loss increase. And then it ends. And you are left a person vastly different than the one you were 50 minutes ago.

Fangs Band Review

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by Zaina Shreidi

Hailing from Glasgow, Scotland, Fangs sprung from a diverse musical background evident in their music, their style, and their attitudes. Inspired by the club culture they grew up in, Fangs bring rave and club elements to rock and roll, making their entire outfit not only unique but well received by a wide variety of people all with one commonality – the desire to party, and party hard. Among their musical influences, Fangs list The Ramones, Queen, and Kiss, but into the mix they throw in a love for Japanese anime, exaggerated hair and make-up, and a love of huge theatrics on stage. Fun-loving, wild, and dedicated to rocking every gig and every album that comes their way, Fangs is the epitome of originality in the music scene. With striking looks and crazy techno-synths to back them up, it is fairly evident that Fangs have sunk their teeth in to the music scene and will not be letting go anytime soon. Single “S.I.C.K.O” available now. www.wearefangs.com www.myspace.com/fangsfangsfangs

music

How the British Government Wants

Mohamed El Amin

I am writing this in the wake of the announcement, one that was so painfully and entirely expected, that the House of Lords has just finished their 3rd reading of the Digital Economy Bill (which I prefer to call “The Remnants On The Toilet Paper Satan Used to Wipe His Arse”) and the royal assent is being confirmed today. What is this mumbo jumbo all about? Well grab a seat, children, for I, have a story to tell: For the past two decades or so, we have been living a dream, a glorious dream, where everything we ever wanted was at the tips of our fingers, and it was awesome. It was called the internet, and our ability to share information was unparalleled through-out human history. Well, not anymore. At least for people in the UK, that is. Enter Mr. Digital Economy Bill, a bill formulated in parliament back in 2009 and set to, and I quote “provide measures to boost the UK’s digital economy” is effectively becoming a law. Now, if you are a proud owner of a skull that houses a functioning brain, and not a baked potato, then I really don’t have to tell you that this is the biggest load of horseshit you’ll ever hear. The reason why this bill is of such alarming magnitude is what it entails: 1. ISPs are now promoted to ban infringing sites (Etisalat blocking now coming in a pc near you!)

2. ISPs will be forced, by law, to provide your private information of every single download / upload you’ve ever done to the BPI (British Phonographic Industry). 3. To sweeten the deal, if (and it more of when, really) you are charged, the offense is no longer civil, but criminal. Yep, downloading that Porcupine Tree track just got you a new room mate called Bubba. How is that for messed up? Let me repeat myself; Downloading a song will lead you to have a criminal record. And if you think that this is a swell idea, just ask yourself how effective Prohibition in the USA was. What makes it worse, the entire bill being sneakily passed through the process just right before parliament is dissolved prior to the elections, thus hidden amidst the entire fiasco that is the election process. Now I’m not one to throw assumptions around, but this sounds like a classic “paid” job. Hell, during the 3rd reading, there were less than 10 MPs in the House of Lords. Google it. If you never had a reason to mistrust politicians, well, you’ve got one now. But really, why should anyone care, right? I mean, it’s in the UK, I’m not even British, why do I have my knickers in such a switch. Because I love music. I really really love music. In my opinion, music and the arts are the only aspects that make humanity worth a nickel. It is our sole saving

grace, and as cheesy as this may sound, music can save lives. and downloading music is the only means I have to discovering new music. Now in the past, people have offered me arguments against internet downloading. Why steal from a musician when you can buy a record from the store? This leads to the further argument that for you to find about a musician, you should switch on the radio/tv. Completely logical and compelling arguments I admit, except for the following 2 points: 1. Have you switched on the radio/tv lately? I’m sorry, but I don’t wish to have my ears raped by the river of human fecess traveling through the airwaves. If I could tax every single person who works on radio/tv I would do it in a heart beat. Mainstream music, for the past 20 years, has been absolute rubbish and anyone caught listening to it oughta be rendered down into their constituent chemicals and scattered on barren land as organic fertilizer. 2. Yeah. Walk to a mainstream record store. Say Virgin, or HMV. Now go ask the clerk where is the grind core section and ask if they have Napalm Death discography, or you know, if they have a decent ambient/drone section and if William William Basinski’s Disintegration Loops Vol. 3 is available. If you are pointed in the correct direction, please tell me where you live because I sure as hell want to move to that wonderful mythical land ripe with whimsical bliss and auditory wonder.

s To Kick the Internet In The Nads Oh wait! I know such a place. It’s called the bloody internet. The single simplest reason why people download is, stated as plainly as possible: going down to the record store or listening to the radio is an absolutely and overwhelming retarded why to discover new music. Now I’m going to be absolutely honest with you. I’ve got well over 1000 GBs sitting on my table, and I kid you not, more than 60% of it is made up of bands that I absolutely love and adore (and a great deal of whom I have paid towards with merchandise and ticket sales) that I would have never heard about if not via downloading. Furthermore, almost all these musicians have stated that they think people downloading their music is a fantastic idea. If I was stealing music, why would they feel so darn good about it (provided, you know, they aren’t Metallica)? Again, it’s really simple; and let me elaborate further with this example: I had the great fortune of seeing Devin Townsend, a legendary metal musician from Canada a few years back. After the show; he was kind enough to hang out with a bunch of us post gig, signing merch and generally being a swell dude. We discussed music, movies, and downloading. I was frank with him, and told him I first heard of him when a friend of mine sent me a link to download his album “Terria” and I loved it, and thus downloaded his entire discography. So when I heard he was performing, I chucked out 20 dollars to see him, with 50 dollars more worth of merchandise.

He was ecstatic. Not only that, but he requested that I burn everything he has recorded and provide it to everyone I know. Why would he do that? Because unless the musician himself is self releasing the music (and those who do it almost always do it for free), the recording company receives the funds. And the musicians make as much money from record sales as a waiter does from tips in a Mexico. It’s peanuts people. Everything goes to the label. The pressing process, delivery, marketing, you name it. The process is so expensive that see merely tidbits of the money. The real money that goes into a musician’s pocket comes from the following: 1. Touring. 2. Merchandise sold during said tours. Why do you think some musicians have such grueling tour schedules? It’s the only way you make money. And it you aren’t downloading with the intent to profit from their work, where is the harm? You are simply giving them one more fan, and likely more fans by sharing the word about them. The myth that downloading is killing the music industry that the RIAA and BPI are trying to sell is absolute wishwash of the highest caliber. Nothing is reviving the music industry as much as internet downloading is, the problem that these organizations have is the fact that the money is not being given to them, but to the musicians.

It’s pure, cold blooded economics, folks. Reversing the bill is nigh impossible at this point, primarily due to the fact the press doesn’t care. You’d see more press around Rooney’s ankle than a bill that literary takes away your online freedom to actually evolve your auditory sensibilities, enhance your perception and accept new things. As if the world wasn’t terrible as is.

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve bee ence/e is to sa years r little mi constan you hea

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en in an alarmingly increasing ambielectronica binge as of late (which ay, every single day for the past 7 really). The entire concept of this ixtape is to allow you to travel in nts. It will make more sense when ar it. Trust me.

uninitiated, www.8tracks.com is a of light and wonder in the world of ering new music. This nifty little site you to create mixtapes, with a minitracks per mix (hence the name). I y suggest passing by it, registering, art making your own mixes.

ow, so you can say you’re really hip u where at before all the posers d doing it. Isn’t that why we do evg?

Track list 1. Múm - The Ballad of the Broken Birdie Records (off Yesterday Was Dramatic/Today is OKAY) 2. Christ. – Ganky (off Blue Shift Emissions) 3. Little Dragon - Thunder Love (off Machine Dreams) 4. Kettel - Pinch of Peer (off Through Friendly Waters) 5. Miwon - The Leave of Autumn (off Point A to B) 6. Aphex Twin - Start As You Mean To Go On (off …I Care Because You Do) 7. Flying Lotus - ...And The World Laughs With You (Feat. Thom Yorke) (off Cosmogramma yes I know it’s not even released yet hush hush!) 8. Christ. - Vernor Vinge (off Blue Shift Emissions) You can listen to this mix right here: http://8tracks.com/bruce_e_k/everything-tocome

film

W E I EV

R M FIL M PAYE O T Y B

I don’t normally do film reviews, but I’ve watched this film three times in the last three days, and no matter how hard I try, the characters, the events, the uninterrupted slickness of it all refuse to leave my head; there’s something about this film that just begs to be written about. When I say slick, I mean really slick, the kind of slick that even the cool cats of 50s America with their Brylcreem, leather jackets and giant-finned cars could only dream of aspiring to. It’s hardly surprising when you look at director Matthew Vaughn’s film making resume; Layer Cake and Stardust, two completely different films that both move with such effortless fluidity that you end up caring very little about the genre, and only about what happens next, which is how any good movie should be. Happily, the same thing is true of Kick Ass, and I’m yet to find any substantial holes in the storyline. The plot contains several story arcs which become intertwined as the film develops, which is nothing new or amazing in itself, but what really impresses are the random events that bring the characters together; it’s completely unpredictable without becoming ridiculous. From the outset, you know that you’re neither watching a standard, comic-book superhero film, nor your regular, high-school teen comedy - It’s more an intricate fusion of the two that will have fans from both camps laughing their tits off at the dialogue and gaping in amazement at the stunning action. You won’t be disappointed by any shoddy acting either. There’s always a worry that with child actors comes a substandard performance, but this is simply not the case with Kick Ass, the younger actors do a brilliant job. Mark Strong is proving himself to be the baddie of choice lately; he exudes malice elegantly, and creates a character even Chuck Norris would be careful around. It’s also good to see Nicholas Cage back on form with a slightly smaller role than usual, which is perhaps what he’s needed lately (look at Tom Cruise in Tropic Thunder). And the music, I’m finding it hard not to just copy and paste “It’s just SO good” for five hundred words, but I’ll try my best to get more specific. Even those who don’t pay much attention to the backing tracks of films will be able to notice the completely spot-on timing, and acknowledge that had the music been different, the film would have lost some of its magic. There are beautiful ostinatos that build up perfectly in line with what’s happening on screen, which evoke those most basic of emotions, awe and excitement. On the other end of the scale there are simple rock and punk songs you’d hear at any highschool party ironically placed in brutal action scenes, just to remind you that you’re still watching some kids having a bunch of fun. If you’re interested, Vaughn has used the same people to do the music in all three of his films, and each one is a tribute to what’s possible when director and composer develop such a harmonious relationship. I am sorry to say though, that I saw this film in the form of a pirated download; it was thrust in front of me by a friend and I was hardly going to refuse it. However, the day that Kick Ass comes out on DVD and Blu-Ray, you’ll be sure to find me down at my local HMV buying it; I really do think it’s worth the money. Coming from a student, I can’t see how praise can get much higher.

film

The film world has always been rife with speculation and I’m not referring to the mating habits of stars and directors but conjecture about upcoming film projects. The media, the critics, publicists, studio executives and the industry insiders have cashed in on the business of speculation by repackaging and rechristening it “Buzz”. The maths is quite simple, there is a direct relationship between buzz generated and a grand box office opening weekend, selection for film festivals and possible award accolades (regardless of the quality of the project). Some examples of questions that are constantly circulating in the media and around the global film industry are “Who will be the next Batman? What will

the next Tim Burton, Johnny Depp project be? Will we need therapy after the next Lars Von Trier film? Is there absolutely any hope that Denzel Washington, Samuel L Jackson and Morgan Freeman can actually avoid being typecast as “the good guy”, “the angry guy” and “the sensible guy” ?Why has James Cameron not made a film in 12 years ? Who will be Woody Allen’s next muse and where will his film be based?” These are just some of the many questions that circulate at light speed all over the world. However in my opinion the most buzz is always generated around the next indulgence by Hollywood’s own wunderkind Quentin Tarantino.

film Tarantino’s show reel is eclectic and accomplished in its eccentricity; it is a reflection of his cinematic education from his days as a film store clerk. Each of his projects is an homage to a particular genre that thrived in Hollywood’s cinematic sub- culture. Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown, Kill Bill Volumes 1 and 2, GrindHouse, Natural Born Killers and now Inglorious Basterds have now exposed cult film culture to a whole new audience. Crime Thrillers, Blaxploitation, Sonny Chiba Kung-Fu films, GrindHouse and the American media’s obsession with gratuitous violence and World War Two have now been tackled with great whimsy and passion by Tarantino. The successful premiere of Inglorious Basterds at this year’s Cannes festival has everyone salivating and buzzing at what Tarantino’s next project will be. He has mentioned in some interviews that he has a prequel for Inglorious Basterds ready if the film is commercially successful, however I would like Mr. Tarantino to tackle another project that is right up his cinematic alley. This next venture could be his magnum opus, his Godfather Trilogy, I would like to see him dive head first into the Bollywood Masala film. The Bollywood Masala film has all the ingredients that are quintessentially Tarantino. No stone is left unturned in the Bollywood Masala film, romance, action, comedy, music, songs, costumes, redemption and elaborate choreographed sequences. Spending just a minute thinking about it and dismissing this idea as the crazed ranting of a madman gets more difficult. Bollywood Masala films have one sole purpose in India; entertainment. They appeal to the masses and in India they have massive appeal. The stories are formulaic boy from wrong side of the track meets girl from a privileged background. At first girl objects to boy’s advances but finally succumbs to his street wise bravado , boy and girl celebrate their love through song and dance in the rain and beautiful locations throughout the exotic land of India. Enter the villain, who has his eye on girl and hatches his devious scheme to kidnap her and make her his bride, this prompts the boy to have a final showdown with the villain in a fight to the death. The Bollywood Masala film is riddled with all kinds of fringe characters i.e. the absurd side-kick or side-kicks that make the film a thoroughly enjoyable experience. Making a Bollywood Masala film would be bread and butter for Tarantino because the one skill he possesses more than most is his ability to write for film. All his previous successful films have

owed their popularity mainly due to his razor sharp dialogue that punctuates his characters with their own unique identity. Most dialogue exchanges in Bollywood Masala films between the protagonist and the villain are long winded diatribes saturated with metaphors comparing the anger and wrath of the protagonist to wounded predators or a raging hurricane of fury. Not all the dialogue needs to be intense exchanges, they also manifest into poetic exchanges between the protagonist and the object of his affection where he compares her beauty to a lotus flower blooming in spring while her eyes twinkle brightly like a starry night sky. I have no doubt that Tarantino will add his own stylized touch to the action sequences in the film, they will be a slick pastiche of violent, incredible feats that enthrall and appall us. We are all in agreement that there aren’t many out there who can score a film better than Tarantino. His unique ability to find the right song or music makes that piece synonymous with the film; case in point: Dick Dale’s Misirlou – the theme song from Pulp Fiction. However we are yet to see him try his hand at a song and dance number where he would have to command an elaborate dance troupe for the numerous dream sequences in his Bollywood labour of love which would be enough of a reason to go watch the film. The success of Slumdog Millionaire has put Bollywood on the world cinema map. To millions of people around the world Slumdog Millionaire was an intriguing showcase of storytelling set in an exotic land that excited and enthralled them. To most Indians Slumdog Millionaire was a polished, slicker Bollywood Masala film with better production value. However Slumdog Millionaire’s success gave the Indian film industry the exposure it craved on the world stage and it will definitely help its growth as a film destination. Having Tarantino foray into his own Bollywood Masala film would be a mutually beneficial relationship because would be using an established platform of success but at the same time he would take the genre of the Bollywood Masala film, add his own flavor and elevate it to a whole new level.

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o s d i a s I e s u ye beca -Tom Pa

OBVIOUSLY THERE ARE ALWAYS HUGE LISTS OF FILMS TO WATCH BEFORE YOU DIE; NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES ALIKE STRETCH THEIR RECOMMENDATIONS INTO THE HUNDREDS. UNABLE TO AGREE ON WHICH EXACTLY ARE THE BEST EXAMPLES OF CINEMA, I IMAGINE THE WRITERS OF SUCH LISTS EVENTUALLY END UP GIVING IN TO EXHAUSTION AFTER A HEAVY NIGHT’S DEBATING, AND THAT AFTER THE COFFEE RUNS OUT AND THE SUN BEGINS TO POKE ITS ANNOYINGLY LUMINOUS NOSE OVER THE HORIZON, THEY WEARILY DECIDE, “JUST SCREW IT MAN, WE’LL PUT THEM ALL IN AND MAKE IT A FEATURE.” I, HOWEVER, AM NOT INTERESTED IN WHETHER OR NOT WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT IS THE BEST EXAMPLE OF CINEMA, BECAUSE I’M NOT DEBATING WITH ANYONE, I’M SIMPLY WRITING DOWN MY OPINIONS. NO ONE CAN ARGUE WITH ME, BECAUSE BY THE TIME ANYONE READS THIS, I’LL HAVE ALREADY WRITTEN IT DOWN, AND THE MOST ANYONE CAN DO IS SEND ME AN OUTRAGED EMAIL EXPLAINING WHY I’M SO UTTERLY WRONG, WHICH I’LL PROBABLY IGNORE. I’M NOT EVEN BOTHERED BY THE FACT THAT I PROBABLY AM UTTERLY WRONG, BECAUSE HERE ARE FIVE FILMS FROM THE LAST DECADE THAT MIGHT HAVE FALLEN BELOW YOUR RADAR, AND THAT I FELL IN LOVE WITH UPON WATCHING. I RECOMMEND THEM TO MOVIE FANS AROUND THE WORLD, WHO WILL MOST LIKELY DISAGREE.

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Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004):

Brick (2005):

Everyone loves a good love story, even us boys, particularly when said love story touches on the possibility of memory erasure and postulates what experiencing life inside your own subconscious might be like. Meet Joel (Jim Carrey), a man so desperately lonely that he falls in love with every woman he lays eyes on. Then meet Clementine (Kate Winslet), a new-age hippy type out to enjoy the world whilst getting involved in all kinds of relationship dramas. They hook up, things go well, and then down the toilet, to the point that Clem, in a moment of typical spontaneity, decides to have every detail of Joel erased from her mind, an act that Joel quickly reciprocates. We’re then taken on a psychedelic journey through the memories of Joel regarding Clem. Starting off with the bad ones, we relive arguments and fights, and are as happy as Joel to see the memories dissipate into nothingness once they’re over. Soon though, we’re reliving beautiful, brilliantly scripted scenes of genuine romance between the two lovers, and join Joel in a battle to keep a hold of any scrap of Clem that he can before the brain-zapping process is completed. Despite the seemingly sci-fi premise, this is an intelligent drama through and through; everything is explained properly. The two stars are backed by an awesome array of accomplished actors, each with their own wonderful personality and spark; it’s like you’re watching real people despite the ludicrous setting. This is one of my favourite films ever, it’s just a fully thorough, completely interesting and involving story.

Sticking with the gangster theme, this film al of everyone, because up until about the any idea at all about what’s going on. Base high school students, the story transcend crime thriller; twists and turns in the plot a loner familiar with the illegal goings on o agrees to play the role of detective in orde girlfriend’s murder. With the help and info dan is transported into a world that more ridden inner city rather than the sunny, c usually portrayed as Californian suburbia fects in action scenes by playing to the str is tasteful and well placed, and the dialogu using phrases like, “what’s your play?” an immersed in this strange world where the the basements of their parents’ homes. I’v and heard mixed reviews, but if you have of spending a couple of hours.

Also check out: The Truman Show, The Pursuit of Happiness, The Science of Sleep

Also check out: Kids, Mystic River, Zodiac

Franklyn (2008): If you like good looking films, then here’s something for you. Some say Franklyn is pretty weak on plot and relies too heavily on its beautiful photography, and to an extent I agree with them. However, despite the relatively slow progression and tedious feelings of not knowing what’s happening, you can’t ignore how nicely everything comes together at the end, and how the photography really is fantastic. Did I mention this film looks fantastic? There are four main characters, each played by well known actors; Jonathan Preest (Ryan Phillippe) is a masked vigilante on a ruthless campaign to kill his nemesis, Emilia (Eva Green) is a loopy student intent on making art out of her attempted suicides, Milo (Sam Riley) is a down-on-his-luck lover boy who’s just been effectively dumped at the altar, and Peter Esser (Bernard Hill) is an old man frantically searching London for his missing son. Half of the film takes place where Preest resides; the city of Meanwhile, a kind of dystopian, medieval yet futuristic world where everyone must choose and follow a religion by law. These religions range from conventional beliefs that we have today, to bizarrities like the 7th Day Fingerpaintists. The other half is set in present day London, where the other three are. From there you know the drill, four seemingly unrelated characters and two worlds that eventually collide in the wake of improbable events. This is an all round satisfying movie, posing strange thoughts about love, loss and vengeance, and don’t forget that if you get bored, you can simply marvel at the stunning images flashing across your screen. Also check out: Wicker Park, Watchmen

m-noir won’t catch the attention or approve last twenty minutes, you don’t really have ed around a group of affluent, California ds setting and quickly becomes a whodunit t are aplenty. The main character, Brendan, of the upper crust of the student body, er to solve the mystery surrounding his exormation of fellow loner, The Brain, Brene resembles the intensity of life in the drugcarefree lifestyles of the rich and famous a. This film makes up for its low-budget efrengths of the script and actors. The music ue is unbelievably slick; with the characters nd, “you want the whole tale?” you become ese kids run vast, criminal empires from ve shown this film to a few different people, the patience to sit it out, it’s a brilliant way

Sin Nombre (2009):

Something for the shock-seekers, this piece of US-Mexican cinema follows a young man, El Casper, on a journey from the Southern-Mexican slums in which he resides, to the United States border. Based on the exploits of real gangs in this area and of real illegal immigrants, the film delves into what it means to be living in such poverty-stricken areas, always reminding you of each little luxury that most of us take for granted. Early on, we’re invited to view the initiation into a gang, “MS-13” (a real gang), of a young boy. He must take a beating from the rest of the group for thirteen seconds, which is actually stretched out by the gang leader to about thirty. As awful as this sounds, it’s hardly the most shocking part of the film, and later on we’re treated to all manner of senseless violence. Don’t think that it’s just a gore-fest thinly disguised as an exposing drama though, for there are equally moving scenes of humility and compassion, provided mainly by a family of illegal immigrants that El Casper encounters and eventually accompanies on his travels. The ending is bittersweet, tragic, yet hopeful, so don’t be put off by the dark tone that you’ll no doubt hear from any review. Filmed in Spanish, and even using some ex-immigrants as actors, this is a sobering representation of the dark realities and inhumane actions taken for granted in some of the poorest cities in the world. Also check out: City of God, District 9, Hotel Rwanda

The Last King of Scotland (2006): This film is hardly obscure, what with winning one Oscar, one Golden Globe and three BAFTAs I’d be surprised if anyone reading this hadn’t at least heard of it, so if you’re one of these anybodies who’s only heard of it, watch it. Now. Based on a novel of the same name by Giles Foden, The Last King of Scotland takes us on the journey of Ugandan president Idi Amin’s rise to power through the eyes of fictional character, Nicholas Garrigan. In fact, though the events and settings are real, most of the characters are fictional, based only loosely on real people. The Scottish Garrigan finds himself in Uganda after graduating from med-school, having run away from home, repulsed by the idea of joining his father’s family medical practice. He soon comes into a chance meeting with the new President, and the two instantly gel. What follows are presidential appointments, lavish stately parties, and a slow realization by Garrigan of just how nuts Amin really is. The screenplay is just brilliant, and played brilliantly by the actors. Forest Whitaker won the film its Oscar for his harrowing depiction of Amin, and James McAvoy’s performance as the cocky-turned-terrified young doctor cemented his place in Hollywood. Shocking, dramatic, tense, this is an extremely well put together film that deserves all the attention it received. Also check out: Downfall, Munich, The Queen

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photography: Barna Szoke & Adam Erdesz

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quint offers a comprehensive design service, combining a wealth of knowledge and experience with the ability to bring a new approach to every creative brief we undertake.

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a26 a26 is a swedish company, dealing with stone-carved products. beautiful statues and fireplaces make their collection really outstanding.

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Union Chemicals union chemicals was established in 1987 as a joint venture with the leading international fertilizer company KEMIRA. their goal was to meet the growing demand for high quality fertilizers in the UAE and the Middle East. as a result of their huge success in local and regional markets, union chemicals began to to cover more countries and regions.

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Employee Corporate Discount Program A reward programme developed by the UAE Government for itsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; employees.

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Update Emirates update was started in 2003 by Norbi, the health and fitness guru, with the purpose of sharing the wealth of knowledge Norbi gained from establishing his own lifestyle system for attaining and maintaining a healthy body.

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Global Marketing Movies Global Marketing Movies offers an end-to-end business optimization solution which creates an effective video experience on your site to engage visitors and convert them into users. GMM delivers a tested and proven increase in revenue.

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ALS Events ALS events is an exclusive event organizer agency, specialized in weddings and corporate functions.

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casa|nova Innovative styling, contemporary design, beautiful furniture, excellent service, commitment to quality, price-conscious value. These are the hallmarks of casa|nova, a stylish Italian furniture showroom in Dubai.

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Exotic Cars Exotic Cars is a luxury car showroom in Dubai, which has the largest collection of dream cars in the UAE.

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Gyula DeĂĄk is the 26 year old designer and illustrator, founder and creative partner of Quint. Working and living in Dubai now, he has been avidly working as a designer in various locations around the world since 2002. Since the early years of his life, Gyula has held a keen interest in the visual arts in several ways. Arguably his biggest influence was his mother, who always had a deep love for art. His schools included special art classes from the beginning of elementary school, and he spent most of his younger days as a slightly naughty little child who loved to draw and build Lego models. Pencils and markers were his primary tools, until one day one of his own teachers, recognizing the obvious talent, gave him a copy of Photoshop on CD. This was when things changed, and digital design has been Gyulaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s passion ever since. He was only 19 years old when he left Hungary and moved to the beautiful Greek island of Corfu. Eighteen months later he re-located to Dublin, Ireland to begin his career as a designer in earnest. After long years of physical drawing practice, Gyula now began to focus much more heavily on computer graphics.

In 2003 he started working for House of the World in Dublin, where they threw him in at the deep end, a relished challenge, and his skills improved daily. Since then, Gyula has worked for several agencies in Dubai as an art and design director, though before long, he had his own personal projects in mind. At the beginning of 2009, he founded Quint with some creative friends, aiming to finally be able to give something back to the creative community. After a bumpy start, the studio was opened in April 2010 and Gyula is now the creative partner and owner of the company, together with Tibor Loncsar. Gyulaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s influences and inspirations depend on his past, his journeys, his everyday life and his friends. As well he takes notice of other forms of media such as music, magazines, street art, websites and stunning literature, and his works represent a large range of these experiences and influences. Always keeping himself busy with personal projects, Gyula maintains that his primary focus is that of self-expression. Along with his commendable industrial achievements, Gyula is a member of the Society of Hungarian Designers and Typographers.

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With an extensive background in IT, Tibor has embarked upon a personal journey with Quint as he explores this venture in creative entrepreneurship. Tiborâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s dedication and support are only exceeded by his pure excitement for the future. Thus, it comes as no surprise that Tibor has a respectable history in photography with a particular interest in capturing beautiful images in nature. In fact, a collection of his photographs were printed in a calendar in 1994 and since then he has maintained a strong desire to surround himself with art and creativity. Another favorite past-time of Tiborâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s is building and racing remote control race cars, earning 2nd place in the Dubai Remote Control Race Car Championship in 2008. Jovial, highly intelligent, and incredibly kind, Tibor encourages creativity and inspires everyone with his enthusiasm and confidence in the talents and capabilities of the Quint team.

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The twenty-two year old Dariush, or Dar to his friends, comes from a half Iranian, half Scottish background and is extremely proud of his mixed heritage, particularly when it comes to Iranian food... and football, he’s football obsessed, and follows Scottish team Rangers FC religiously. He graduated from the University of Edinburgh in May 2010 with an MA in International Business and joined the Quint team as Business Development Manager shortly after. A very worldly man, he spent one year studying in Vienna as a part of his course, whilst taking any possible opportunity for one excursion or the other to visit unseen parts of the globe during holidays. Not just a businessman though; Dar enjoys a number of creative hobbies. Since school, he has always had a part to play in different Dubai-based bands. He first began drumming for the punk band JCR and then graduated to vocals for the more widely known Death of Eighty, a band which successfully recorded a very professional sounding EP, played numerous gigs such as the ESPN X-Games, and who came in a close second in a competition to perform at Dubai’s largest rock festival, Dubai Desert Rock. Dar is also a keen lomographer; he’s had his work

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showcased at several Dubai galleries, and was once invited to talk as an expert on the subject on radio. Other hobbies include aviation and a deep respect and love for history. The man makes clear the things he’s not interested in, namely cars, fantasy novels and blue cheese. However, he excels at finding common ground with any individual he comes into contact with, a quality that is probably worth more than his university degree when it comes to his job. Dar looks to help Quint grow and develop as best as he can, and is happy to help out above and beyond the call of duty in his job description. One such example of his dedication and friendly loyalty was when he rescued a tearful Gyula from the side of the road, who’s battery had just died in the midday heat. Obviously an invaluable member of the team.

Christened ‘Fluffy’and‘Mein Schatz’ by the team, Adam Erdesz adds a touch of excellence to quint’s photographic and design work. An alumnus of IBS Budapest, Adam cites his main design mentor as our own Gyula Deak, and is always on the lookout for new trends and styles to add to his ever-increasing portfolio of work. Disenchanted with life in his native Budapest, Adam arrived on our shores in March seeking new challenges, new social networks and blue-eyed scantily clad Swedish models. Equally proficient in both film and digital photography, Adam has trained in and taught film development to a number of international students in Hungary. His previous photographic works have included the crème de la crème of Hungarian arts and business– writer Gyorgy Faludy, singer Veronika Harcsa and Michelin Star restaurant owner Karoly Gerendai are just a few of his illustrious clients. In terms of future ambition, he hopes one day to visit the miniscule Principality of Sealand (Google it) and Plastik Beach, and invites anyone with enough kindness in their heart to donate him a house on the Palm. In photographic and design terms Adam claims he can ‘…do anything you like’. Watch this space.

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Zaina Shreidi, quite simply, loves to write, listen to music, and talk about just about everything. Her highly energetic debates on anything from the political situation in Palestine, to the incredible riffs in her favorite songs du jour, to her favorite flavour of Coffee Mate tends to edge on (and occasionally plunge into) the exasperating. However, she has vowed to never be silenced, and so sees this magazine as a true blessing; she has finally found a productive way in which to express herself and give something back to the strange, strange world in which we live. With a background in freelance writing, public relations, and events management, Zaina is overjoyed at finally finding the perfect opportunity to use her varied skills for the purpose of creating something new and dynamic, rather than becoming a cog in the wheels of the corporate machine. Her daily inspirations include the members of the quint team, endless cups of coffee (with the aforementioned Coffee Mate), her family and friends, and the musical stylings of Jimi Hendrix and the Black Keys.

Our in-house online strategist Benji comes from a mixed background of sport, art and business. He used to be a very serious kayaker, at one point even becoming the Hungarian champion. In the Junior Kayaking World Cup he achieved the bronze medal, and in the last two years of his career he even trained with the Hungarian Qualified Olympic team, who managed to nab some medals in Athens. He also raced in the European Slalom Championship in 2006, and became the online leader of the most successful Kayak-Canoe Federation, which are all very high achievements by any standard. Benji graduated from Oxford Brookes University with a BA in Arts Management. In terms of what led him on to his current career, he studied at Shafston International College in Brisbane, Australia, whilst also working as a web designer, and he learned much about online and search engine marketing. He spent 2-3 months at the biggest design agency in Budapest, Hungary; Kirowski, an integrated company that also specialises in media purchasing and production. In 2002, Benji began using Flash, which gives him eight years of experience. He joined Quint after working for BBDO, where he was head of the Flash department, giving him the expertise to undertake even the most obscure briefs any client might throw at us. A kayaking, extreme sports loving, computer genius; itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s great to have him on board.

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Ayman Trabulsee, the production manager at quint, brings to the team a wealth of experience working with branding and advertising agencies as well as printing presses and repro houses, specifically in production and the final art stages. He is involved in making everything we do here at quint look incredible in its final, physical form. Ayman has been with quint since the very beginning, working closely with Creative Partner Gyula DeĂĄk, and now gives the entire team a point of reference for true dedication and professionalism. The hard work however has not managed to keep Ayman from reigning ultimate champion at the quint teamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s all time favourite sport: foosball. Many team members at quint vie for this much desired title on a regular basis with the dynamic Syrian, without avail. However, it is impossible not to like the friendly family man, as he is an integral part of the quint team, on a professional and personal level.

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“I - I am aware that - I have behaved badly”

“As long as the behavior was human -” “Can I help being a human?” “No.”

“Can anybody?”

“Not that I know of.” I could very well leave the review at that simple quote. It most accurately describes this novel, accurately pegs Vonnegut’s entire body of work, and his obsession with Humanism.

playboy deserts his family ordained life of pleasure, the marvel of New York and Europe, the filth and rolling in a staggering amount of money (collected and shielded from the hands of the IRS via the Rosewater foundation, a trust fund established since the early days of unrest of the Civil war through cheating, lies and stealing), in favour of returning to his point of origin, the measly little backwater Midwest town of Rosewater, Illinois, where he becomes a Buddha, of sorts, assisting all those who call on his assistance (usually on the 3rd phone ring) after seeing his flyers posted all around the town (The posters read: “Don’t kill yourself, call the Rosewater Foundation”) and giving money to those poor bastards who did nothing wrong but be born poor.

It’s those little punch lines that smack you in the face and make you take a darn long look at yourself and our existence as a whole. but the book is not an attack against the creator (even though he shoulders a great deal of blame for the mess we’re in), it’s an observation of humanity and how money corrupts. Money is another major theme in this book. AS the opening line states so accurately:

Money and the mind boggling super power it lends a certain minority of humans and how it separates us to such a degree, even though we all have assholes that shit.

And then I pick up another book, and that becomes my fav book of all time. This cycle of magic remains ongoing, even through multiple re-reads of his prose and having gone through all 14 of his main books.

There is nothing as plain as simple plot here, it’s simply a collection of mere encounters connecting a few characters, knitted with short, awe inspiring text more akin to epiphany. And the funny thing is, how natural it all comes through. Eliot Rosewater, a billionaire

“Good. Because I always wanted to ask him what people were for anyway.”

“A sum of money is a leading character in this tale about people, just as a sum of honey might properly be a leading character in a tale about bees.”

But a gem that is this book, being more “wordy” is the only way to do it justice. You see, here lies the incredibly peculiar aspect of Vonnegut’s writing, at least to me. It’s as simple as this: every book I pick up by him, instantly becomes my fav book of all time.

Beautiful aching humanity. I don’t think any other phrase could describe this book, and Mr. Vonnegut himself. To a causal viewer, it’s nothing short of a dark humor at it’s finest, but with every layer and ever sentence possessing such an unparalleled scathing critical look at the inner workings of the “human condition” (as I like to call it. Refer to Charles Bukowski’s Love Is a Dog From Hell and Vonnegut’s own Sirens of Titans) that is more akin to that of a social observer than a mere writer.

angel if he will go to heaven and get to meet God (to which the angel responds with a resounding “yes”) he simply replies:

Sounds pretty basic, hell, anyone can write about it, right? Wrong. What separates Vonnegut’s prose from the rest of the horde, (and at the risk of repeating myself like a fanboy) is it’s beautifully aching humanity. Vonnegut’s views of humanity are that of love and gentle ruthlessness. Oxymoron I know, but there is no other way to describe it. He understands the reasoning for all our disgusting actions, he frowns upon it sharply, but he forgives us for it, because we cant help it. as a certain secondary character states early on, when asking an

The book revolves around a Karl Marxlike Messiah of sorts, privileged in every fashion conceivable, who makes the ultimate sacrifice of the 20th Century; refusing the money his ancestors have drenched him with, in favour of loving humans. Disgusting, poor, and ignorant as they may be, because we’re all in this shit hole together, and we oughta be a hellva lot nicer to each other and life is bad as is without people worrying about Money to complicate things. “Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — “God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut.

literature

Title: Only Revolutions Author: Mark Z. Danie Genre: Ergodic Fiction

Synopsis: A tale of two im trip through America as tory. A mind-blogging ta symbolism were you act grasp the full picture.

Title: The Amazing Adv Author: Michael Chabo Genre: Historical Ficti

Synopsis: A tale of 2 dist ing to break into the com Age of Comics during/po trated contrasting chara the nazi jew-hunt, and a leading a life of lies and ate something from all t their lives, through a me baby steps.

Title: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead Author: Tom Stoppard Genre: Existentialist tragedy/ comedy

reading list by Mohammed El Amin

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Synopisis: The story of Hamlet from the viewpoint of 2 minor characters; Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; who explicitly and implicitly wrestle with questions such as human will in the face of determinism and other similarly existential questions. As a play within a play within a play, it can get pretty damn confusing, but it keeps you on your toes. While it›s always going to be much better seeing a live performance, that doesn›t make the content itself any less engaging.

Title: Stoner Author: John William Genre: Non-fiction

Synopsis: The story o raised in an agricultu university in the earl Agricultural Sciences career goals within ha life at face-value -- thi as he’s handed disapp different areas. The n with us being told how amounted to in his lif taposition espoused t a satisfying life of the isfying one of the bod gives him, yet standin like that anonymous m er Above the Sea of Fo

s elewski n

mmortal teenagers on a road s they attempt to escape Hisale of escapism, poetry and tually have to rotate the book to

ventures of Kavalier & Clay on ion

tantly related jewish attemptmic industry during the Golden ost World War II. Beautiful illusacters, one who escaped another born and raised in NY, conformity, both trying to crethe nothingness that devours edium that is taking itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s first

of an individual born and ural family who goes to ly 19th century to study s, only to change his entire alf his stay. Looking at his is is as good as his life gets pointments in many other novel, in fact, actually opens w apparently little Stoner fe. In essence, the great juxthis book is of that between e mind compared to a dissatdy. He bears the troubles life ng tall until his dying day man in Freidrichâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Wanderog.

Title: Letters from The Earth Author: Mark Twain Genre: Fiction Synopsis: The Devil is sick and tired of all the bad rep he gets, and decides to pen a series of letters detailing to a great extent, the utter horridness and stupidity that is the humanity. A scathing review of the aspects that found our entire race; covering all angles of life from organized religion to morality. Through all of this, the most evil creature in the universe, appears baffled by our consistent and never ending cruelty and general doucheness.

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by Dariush Kamyab

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Rolling on the river of sadness. Tears fears and dreary eyed dreams flow along a dragon. Not just any old dragon, but one that responds to classical music. Its charms, eloquencies, sophisticated mystic charms glide and sweep through the air. Ever respondent, our old friend decides that he has had enough. Standing, she rises, flying into a roll. Gleaming, my heart decided that it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t in it anymore, and flew foolishly from its homeland. Borders, bankrupted by mere reason opened, allowing for shreiks, fits and giggles to penetrate her skin. The drums of war, tightened and tuned to perfection vibrate in pure anticipative glory. March on, march on, march on, rule the world, rule the planet, rule all her souls.

creative writing

The Writing on the Wall by Danny Pagarani

spy Justin and Rob, some guys from the flat next

Graffiti blights the walls of the toilet cubicle. A smat-

door to mine walking this way. I know their names.

tering of peace signs and anarchist A’s join the smug

They do not know mine. Twenty-two years of so-

scrawlings of people who don’t seem to realise how very

cial interaction and I’m still a virtual mute. Do I

clichéd it all is. You won’t find the answers to anything

say hello? Do I wave? A nod perhaps – it’s not too intru-

here. Just a bunch of fools that know so little they think

sive, although, eye contact is involved. Just keep my eyes

they know it all.

lowered, why would they want to say anything to that odd

Tuesday lunch; too busy for my liking. I’ve drunk too

masters student that hasn’t even managed to scrape enough

much coffee though and the toilet calls. There are three oth-

friends together to get out of halls. Quadruped octa-limb

er people waiting but I’m quick and manage to slide my way

double cigarette-smoking dreadlocked crisis approaches

into a cubicle. Not my usual, but everything is in its correct

and before I know it I’m inside. I need my oasis. Anxiety

place. A quick toilet paper ring around the seat and I sit and

takes my hand, grips my legs and guides me to the bath-

I exhale. Something new catches my eye. Neat meticulous

room. Not more than a minute can have passed and yet

script adorns the door directly in front of me. There are four

my experience has been so full. This is how my time passes.

lines of this ruthlessly regular lettering. Each letter is identi-

These empty moments; the time between time. Do I want

cal to the next as if produced by a machine.

it to pass quickly, to pass slowly? Maybe I just want it to be the past. The time passes either way, I suppose. Words are inadequate. None of it makes any sense. Time passes what? Passes me? Or just passes, finishes, ends. There is no past. Only the passed by. Typical for this time of day the bathroom is deserted and calm. The florescent strip lighting reveals the dark half moons of sleepless nights under my eyes. My reflection is gaunt. I like these lights, you see things as they are. My

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I AM FAST, LIKE THE WIND, I TREAD LIGHTLY. I AM WOUNDED BUT MY PAIN FUELS ME. I AM A KILLER LIKE THE STORM THAT COMES. I AM OUTCAST, BUT FROM HERE I CAN SEE YOUR WEAKNESS, SMELL YOUR FEAR. YOU WILL NOT HEAR ME. YOU WILL NOT SEE ME. A. SOFT

cubicle, closed off from the world, permits me peace. Here

This is different from the usual drivel that so gracefully

I can sit and do a crossword or a puzzle. The cryptic ones

ornaments the walls of the cubicle. I’m not a poetry per-

are my favourite.

son. At school meaningless reams of daffodils and clouds

cemented my disdain, but this somehow captivates. I make a note to look this A. Soft up on the internet. I wonder who he is. There’s a certain sinister honesty in the words. A week has passed. As I turn into a bathroom opposite the library, A. Soft still occupies my thoughts. There was no trace of him online, no published material. Maybe he’s

I find seven more doors that bear his mark. THEY CALL ME THE WOLF. THEY CHASE ME FROM MY HOME WITH FIRE AND HATE. NOW I LAY IN WAITING, MY RETRIBUTION WILL COME.

not a poet after all but someone at the university. There’s

I AM FAST, LIKE THE WIND, I TREAD LIGHTLY.

only one cubicle and it’s locked. The urinals have divid-

I AM WOUNDED BUT MY PAIN FUELS ME.

ers but I’d never use them. ‘Occupied’ phases to ‘Vacant’

I AM A KILLER LIKE THE STORM THAT COMES.

as the bolt slides free. A weedy looking boy emerges and

I AM OUTCAST, BUT FROM HERE I CAN SEE

we exchange places. No taps are turned nor hands washed

YOUR WEAKNESS, SMELL YOUR FEAR.

before I hear the bathroom door close. Disgusting. At last

YOU WILL NOT HEAR ME.

I’m alone, ah well, not quite. Soft’s stark script stains the

YOU WILL NOT SEE ME.

centre of this door too.

THE YOUNG ONES, THE PRETTY ONES, THE ONES

THEY CALL ME THE WOLF. THEY CHASE ME

YOU WILL MISS MOST. EYE FOR YELLOWED EYE.

FROM MY HOME WITH FIRE AND HATE. NOW I

TOOTH FOR RUST RED FANG. COME WITH ME

LAY IN WAITING, MY RETRIBUTION WILL COME.

LITTLE LAMB, DON’T YOU LIKE MY SMILE?

A. SOFT

I AM THE PRIME HUNTER, MY SENSES KEEN.

The wounded wolf lies in wait; cryptic messages his

YOUR PULSE QUICKENS, ERRATIC WITH FEAR -

communication with the world. It’s clearly not a poem but

I HEAR IT. YOU SHIVER A CHILL AND YET YOU

it shares the same foreboding quality as the first. ‘Retribu-

SWEAT - I SMELL IT. MY CLAWS REND. JAWS LIKE

tion’, a warning? He’s leaving clues. Clues to what exactly?

VICE LOCK TEETH SPLINTER BONE.

Stop, I’ve got to stop this juvenile fantasy. I learned long ago that nothing ever happens. Still, those words are real and there is meaning in them. I may be the only one who can make this make sense.

THAT WAS THE LAST TIME. THE TIME BEFORE WAS THE LAST TIME TOO. EVERY TIME IS THE LAST TIME, BUT TIME JUST WON’T STOP.

I WAS ONE OF GOD’S ANGELS BUT THEY TURNED

page but it does have uses. Alice Soft, Amy Soft, Adam

ME INTO AN ANIMAL AND NOW I AM BECOME A

Soft. It’s him, the pale boy with dirty hands from the bath-

MONSTER.

room. Even I can see the symbolism.

WON’T SOMEONE FIND ME? I HAVE A HUNGER THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. CAN’T YOU HEAR MY HOWL?

in wait opposite the library toilet the lurching double beat of my heart rattles the bars of its cage. I see him approach and enter the bathroom. He’s about my height with tight

In my notes I order them with the most faded first as-

brown curls that sit on his head as if they’ve fallen from the

suming their chronology, his escalating tone guides me.

sky. I could talk to him right now in that cubicle turned

I’m by no means infallible but I think I’ve got it right.

confessional booth where it all started. I could tell him that

There’s weight behind his words, something very real.

he’s different, that he had the feral courage to elevate him-

Soft’s words are always in the same place right at the

self from the echelons of the passed-by. He’s done what we

very centre of the door, at eye level. He wants pride of

all desire. He’s really lived. He’s escaped the dull mess of

place; he wants his message to be seen. I have a better idea

the mundane.

of his character now, his motivations and desires as well as

As he leaves the bathroom I want to call out to him but

his fears. A soft wolf seems like an oxymoron but he wants

the words aren’t there so I follow instead. He is heading

help. He may not know it, but I do. Why else confess? He

towards the car park and the edge of campus. I can’t let

fears what he has become, in a way he is scared of himself.

him leave, I need to say something.

It isn’t his fault though; society is to blame for his transformation into a monster. A cliché, but I understand him.

“Adam” He turns despite my lack of conviction.

There was a time just after the accident that gave me my

“You know my name? Why are you following me? Who

oh-so-attractive limp that I felt like I might be going down

are you?” His voice is measured, each question in quick

a similar path. There’s only so much scorn a person can

succession.

take. Actually it wasn’t even that, I’m romanticising a memory. It was more that I became invisible. People don’t like being confronted with humanity’s inherent ugliness and there I was leaving a trail of ugly slime everywhere I went.

“I know what you’ve done. I can give you a lift. My car’s nearby.” I don’t really know what I’m saying. There’s a look in his eyes that I can’t comprehend.

We’re all ugly. It’s just that mine is on the outside so that

“Oh. I see” He tilts his head to the darkening sky. “Look,

people drop their eyes or suddenly become engrossed in

that’s over now. I’m not that person anymore.”

their fingernails when I pass by. It’s the ones that are ugly on the inside you need to watch; you never know when it’ll show. I’ve seen the slime. It oozes out from the corners of peoples mouths. It trickles down their chins as they hold the door for me. For his sake, I need to find him, this wounded cub. A plan formulates. He’ll be on facebook. I hate the web-

154

A creature of habit like me, he’s easy to find. While I lay

It is him. I step closer. We’re no more than a foot apart. Purpose courses through me. “The moon is almost out,” I say. “Let me meet the wolf.” His face turns grim. He recoils. “Ok. Enough. Its time for you to limp on home…cripple.” He takes his time over the last word, savouring it as if peeling back a scab.

I grab his arm “No! You don’t understand. I’m like you.

Three weeks have passed and everything is unnervingly

We’re the same!” It’s not meant to be like this. There’s

normal. I see now why he craved quiet, for I cannot si-

a pathetic whine to my voice. “You’re wounded, outcast

lence the sound of his head meeting the kerb. There was

and I’m with you. I don’t want to be passed by anymore.”

no drama to it, just an unassuming thud. My printer has

I plead, sounding like a jilted school girl. He tries to break

run dry so I’m forced to join the masses in the computer

free but stumbles back. Still holding onto his arm, I’m

cluster. The suicide of Adam Soft, 19, was reported in local

pulled down with him. I try vainly to find my feet but the

newspapers. Objectively speaking, he was unremarkable in

dead weight that is my withered right leg is of no use. Our

every way, including his choice of an ever-popular suicide

combined masses ensure that the corner of the kerb ends

spot. I don’t know what I expected but I did expect some-

the brief struggle.

thing to change. A pat on the back. A slap on the wrist.

The clarity of mind that accompanies that all-powerful undeniable instinct for survival made it possible for me to

A change in me perhaps, but there’s no respite; time trudges mercilessly on.

bundle the wounded Wolf into my car, drive the twenty miles to Beachy Head and, without pause for thought, tip him over the cliff and in to the raging sea below. A storm

Then, before I’m conscious of why, the hairs on my arms have stood up as if alerted to some hidden danger.

did come that night, just like he promised. The Wolf rained

There, on the mouse pad in front of me in that same

down thanks in torrents, carrying away all trace of what

regimented handwriting I see a name that finally heralds

happened. I had given him the peace he had called out for

change.

and I had helped. I had actually done something.

THE ART OF SHORT FICTION T

O. FAST A. TOFS F. TOAS A. SOFT ~ A solitary car pulls up to the side of the road. There are no other cars parked here, no other people. It is a clear day. To the west the sun sets through the skeleton of the old burnt out pier. For a brief moment every evening it is ablaze once more with golden faerie fire. A lone figure limps from the car to the edge of the cliff. With his heels on the jagged line where the land falls away, he is silhouetted against the sun. Featureless and dark, eyes closed, he lies back into the comfortable embrace of nothingness.

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creative writing

I’ve always fantasized about living in the sixties, because I’ve always wanted to be a part of some world-changing protest and to have the feeling that what I thought could actually make a difference. Back in the sixties these protests were happening every day, there were protests about the war, about music, about books, about everything. Nowadays, if someone cares enough about something to protest, they’ll round up twenty of their friends and just shout abuse at police officers. Sure, we had a pretty nasty protest at the G8 last year, or G20, or whatever it is now, but it was hardly on the same scale. Instead of fifty thousand back then, we’d have twenty thousand now, instead of ten thousand back then, we’d have a couple of hundred now. These days, politics isn’t interesting enough to work up those kinds of crowds. I also love the music that came out of the sixties, the insane guitar solos of Hendrix, the strange new sounds of the Beatles, and the unapologetic assault on the ears of the Rolling Stones. I imagine that as a music lover in the sixties, I would have been right at home. I would have been surrounded by like-minded people, and I’d have been out there with them protesting for peace, singing for love, wearing my hair long and kicking back in the summer, it all sounds perfect. Nowadays we still wage wars that the majority of people don’t want, we still make music that our parents can’t even begin to understand, and we still love to party. We have infinitely superior communication capabilities these days, so why is it so hard to organize the masses and to vent exactly what we’re thinking? Of course it’s easier to do in some parts of the world than others, but the simple answer is because we’re far too sensible now. We ignore the wars our countries are waging, we push music to its limits not because we’re repressed but because we’re free to do so, and we party on the weekends, not all day, every day. Everyone is so wrapped up in the rat-race of modern life that there is little time or energy left to protest about something that only affects your conscience, and doesn’t affect your bank account. I’m not saying this is such a bad thing. I’m simply envious of the sense of belonging that these people must have felt, because although I know many like-minded people, I also know that we are primarily following our own agendas,

158

and not the agenda of some common goal. I’m afraid this is the price we’ve had to pay for the victory of capitalism. Again though, I’m not getting all dreary-eyed about it, because I’m really, really glad that I don’t live in the sixties. We have things way better now, we have better food, we have better music, and we have better technology. Our culture is more diverse than could ever have been imagined back then, and the average middle-classer can get from here to the other side of the world in less than a day. We’re focused now, what is good for the many is merely a by-product of what is good for the individual, and for me, taking a look at our music festivals illustrates this brilliantly. I recently watched Jimi Hendrix’s performance at Woodstock, digitally remastered. When I found the video I was truly excited, as I’d formed all kinds of opinions on Woodstock already and was quite convinced that it must have been the best few days of music in the history of time. However if I said that when I watched it that I was disappointed, it would be the biggest understatement in the history of time. The music was excellent, and hats off to the production company that managed to get that kind of sound from such ancient recording equipment, but the festival itself was nothing like I’d imagined. The stage was tiny, there

was barely enough room for Hendrix to step around his cables on the floor, and it looked like it was about to collapse under the weight of all the speakers (again, tiny) and instruments. The crowd wasn’t doing anything; they were literally sitting and watching. Some people were standing, but most looked like they were just soaking up the sun, rather than enjoying a rock festival, and as I watched Hendrix’s fingers dance impeccably over the fret board, I realized that as a showcase, the whole thing felt hugely uninspiring. It was a milestone anniversary of Woodstock’s last year, and I remember reading some recollections of it. Some said that it was great, that you could just feel this kind of positive energy flowing through everyone. Some said that it was amazing how no one ever crossed the simple plastic tape that separated the crowd from the stage, and that there wasn’t ever an issue over someone getting injured. People who had tickets would sneak those without onto the grounds, and the security was comprised of a team of Rasta hippies grinning madly at everyone walking past, not the burly, six foot tall body builders we’re used to being frisked down by today.

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It all sounds fantastically civilized and laidback, but that’s not what I want from a rock festival. To me, rock festivals are loud, muddy, dirty and gritty. At a rock festival you get right into the middle of the pulsating thousands, have a refreshing beverage, and go mental. You jump around, you throw things at the stage and you crowd surf. If there was someone playing at the Reading Festival in the UK who was as big as Hendrix was, you would not find one person anywhere just sitting back and listening, everyone would be well in the crowd having a blast, and there’s your real positive energy. That’s what rock music is all about. It’s about tearing down the system, the system that makes us work jobs we hate, the system that forces us to

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be civil, and to not speak out when we’re angry. At a rock festival, there’s no system, there’s complete anarchy, but by the same token it’s a huge release of energy, and when you’re part of a moving, living, breathing mass of people, singing along to your favorite songs, you really do feel like you’re a part of something special. It’s excellent. But let’s not forget that it’s the system that gives us the festival. The pursuit of money is wrought through in today’s festivals, and from the moment you step onto the grounds and are offered a £10 guide (60dhs), you know it’s going to be expensive. However, for those who can afford it, the money makes everything

better. The sound systems are unbelievable, the stages are huge, our favorite bands travel with armies of men, allowing for a great sound, no matter where you are in relation to the stage, and all of this makes for an incredible experience. In the face of today’s festivals, watching Woodstock makes you feel like you’re watching a truly amateur event, despite the huge crowds and bigger names. That’s why I was so disappointed with it, it’s why I’m glad I live in the time that I do, and it’s made me realize that the crowd energy I’ve experienced far outweighs anything they had back then.

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Cool steel sheets glared. Stepping back, the extensive panorama of the wall became, by degrees, more forbidding. It was impressive and eerie. This moment of silent sombreness would eventually flow unnoticed into former emotions; he had hoped it would remain as a fixed point, together with its simple conditions. Ostensibly this wall was similar in appearance and intention to any other: constructed to keep some out, but many within; to defend, and protect; to excuse, and hide. He knew then that he would soon relay this experience to someone else, not because the recipient would want to hear about it, rather to satisfy himself. He had visited the town where Ovid had lived in Abruzzo, but had been distracted, knowing immediately where he wanted to go. Arriving with the expectation of a local awareness, he had been disappointed, finding only an engaged and dusty local historian to guide him to the site. No one still cared; the young man gathered this because the whole place was deserted. A sense of casual neglect pervaded the camp. The back of his nose prickled, nerves alerted. He attempted to reason with his biased mind: he understood that people forget; that not everyone ground their heels into the dirt of history and pulled against inevitable progression.

He pulled out a camera from his inner pocket, pondered, before replacing it in his jacket. A photograph would just catalogue and file this scene; it would be devalued by the silent flash of a camera. It would be a method of recollection that undercut meaning; meaning would be immediately corrupted. There was a notice of apology which initially appeased his bruised pride. The words shone in distinction from the dull, unpolished metal that provided their background. ‘We admit wrong-doing’. He scowled in frustration, gritting his feet into the scree underfoot. The small stones got into his sandals. As he walked, they rubbed and scratched between his toes. It would not let him be angry. The words somehow highlighted their own plight through a message of collective suffering. When he had visited Dresden, he had stood in the main square seeing the patchwork of bricks and had looked miserable, torn through by national guilt. Here there was no one to satisfy this schadenfreudic need of his: a thirst for palpable remorse. Vision clouded, he returned his blotchy stare towards the sign. More so than

the gaping visual provocation of the wall, or the deserted stillness of his surroundings, where only crickets disturbed nature’s cloak of silence, this was a verbal reminder. Sulmona is a town famous for a poet who lived more than two thousand years ago. His grandfather will never exist more than in the realms of personal loss. He had never met his grandfather, but both seemed equally worth remembering. * * * While driving back in the car, the young man stared at his reflection in the window, and considered. How could a man he had never met before have created such a reaction? He resolved to never let the blind clinging of the past grasp at his feelings again; the link he had made back there, by the wall of the camp, well, his grandfather would never have made such a spurious observation, surely. Ovid had nothing to do with him, neither did the events of the century just completed. They drove past a towering factory, which was busy bellowing smoke into the heavens, and the historian sighed in a half-smile, ‘but look what it made’.

I’m in You, You’re Me by: Trevor Bundus

Speak! Your white black now white Strike wires, effects your blistering light Our need is right now our hour of plight Come alive through the buttons, be my beacon, my sight For I know I’m in love and I can’t live without Flows blood in my veins, shoots rhythm throughout I know you’re in love, do you know how to start Pressed up deep inside you, God tests me to part You’ve strung us together, I’ve forgiven the whore My brother, my sister, I swear you’ve not met before We’re bonded by rhythm, but live lives ashore Removing this schism, our breath shall part no more Fear has blinded our love for the want of our border Humanity has waned and still struggles for order Come back from above, in this hour of need I’m dying. I need you. Faithful I’ll be

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Q: Don’t we all like to stereotype when it comes to the Eastern Bloc? A: Like a visit to the mother-in-law, dentist or funeral home , our group visit to Bratislava, Slovakia was something that had to be done in as little time as possible, though I’d never take a Dutchman, American and Italian with me to a dentist appointment unless it was part of some crass joke. Crossing the border was quite funny - the border train station had no platforms. So people leap across tracks to go home after working in Vienna. Dicing with death in the former Eastern Bloc. The train wobbled and wobbled and wobbled and wobbled into Hlavna Stanica station, my prior prediction of the engineering quality differences between Slovakian and Austrian rail frightenly coming true.

Q: Do they all go somewhere else when its sunny in the Eastern Bloc? A: We arrived and found a bullet-hole-ridden street. A charming touch of Guernica here and Stalingrad there ( just before shit went down). The Slovakian president lives in a park. Well not really a park, but his palace is in a park and he wasn’t home- I should’ve called ahead. His palace is more like a big house though - I’ve seen bigger in Umm Suqueim. Outside his house is a big fountain and lots big big car companies - apparently its cheap to do business in Slovakia now. Skoda never actually left though. Finding people to tell us where to go was pretty hard. Finding people to tell us where all the people were, was pretty hard. Maybe they all went to Vienna for a day out.

Q: Does kitchen sanitation exist in the Eastern Bloc? A: Eventually we found a restaurant. No Slovakian beer though. Boo. Hiss. (why do people hiss dissaproval?) But we had nice warm Czech beer instead, maybe its kept warm to affect the appearance of Slovakia’s big brother. I’m not sure if those two countries are rivals or not, anyone know? If I’d seen the kitchen first, I wouldn’t have eaten there. Presumably our meat had been seasoned with the flavour of the skillet itself (Yes, I stole that line from Meet the Fockers - bite me. Actually, don’t bite me. Please.).

QUESTIONNAIRE dariush kamyab Q: Why do they love bronze statues, Tesco and more bronze statues in the Eastern Bloc? A: The biggest Tesco superstore I’d ever seen this side of Glasgow, jam packed with Slovakian grandmas, alcoholics and single mothers. Just like Glasgow then. Is that a man in that manhole? Oh, he’s made of bronze? My mistake sir. Can I try on that lovely silver man’s hat? Certainly sir. Napoleon Bonaparte, may I lean with your bronze likeness and discuss gardening on St. Helena? Oui monsieur. Why on earth they need to attach Napoleon to a bench is beyond me. What did he ever do for Slovakia?

Q: Why are all the nice McDonald’s restaurants in the Eastern Bloc? A: Prague’s was pretty nice. You could sit outside. You can also sit outside in Bratislava, and chat to the locals, admire the flowers in your own little seating area. My server didn’t speak any English, but a little German here and there coupled with a tiny bit of Czech got us a beaming smile. She even gave us free ketchup. Makes a change from Chantelle ‘No ye cannae refill yer Cola if ye dinnae pay’ McFadden serving up three day old cheeseburgers that have been run over by tractors.

Q: Wasn’t there that movie where the guys get murdered by rich people and gangs of kids about the Eastern Bloc? A: I hadn’t seen ‘Hostel’ for a while, but there

were no kids wandering dark alleys killing for bubble gum in Bratislava. Roth disappoints there. We also didn’t really spot any weird people who may like to kill for fun in anywhere apart from the Tesco superstore.

Q: Why does everyone live in those ugly big blocks of flats next to power plants in the Eastern Bloc? A: Presumably because the state made them and it was easy to get to work. However, they seem to have done a really cool job in refurbishing some of them. The ‘Hotel Avion’ (I think) in Bratislava is a long, narrow Stalinist building converted into an orgasmic rainbow-esque mural of colour squares and thick black lines - Mondrian would be proud. No such luck, however has befallen Bratislava’s electrical power plants in Petrzalka, though their workers can pop into H&M next door after a long shift (lets hope they stock up on ‘electro’ style clothing...)

Q: Don’t we all like to stereotype when it comes to the Eastern Bloc? A: Sure we do.

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