THE LEEDS DEBACLE

LEEDS

issue 9 - ÂŁfree

oct - dec 2012

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M u s i c Literature Interviews

O l y m p i c s R e v i e w s A l c o h o l

F e s t i v a l s Hooligans P o e t r y

M a r k e t s A r t M e d i c i n e

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/ JOHN BARRAN

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his Friday afternoon Leeds to Skipton train stinks.

Overcrowded and rattling, businessmen are sweating into families crying into chavs swearing into hipsters. Gradually, from Shipley through Bingley to Keighley, the suits and the prams and the obscenities alight, and we become a carriage of skinny jeans and massive beards. 44 minutes later, knees bent and arms stretched, we ra ra ra our borrowed tents and buggered cider, with unused strength of unseen muscle, from murky towns to muddy hills. And we’re here.

Greetings from Beacons.

In a stunning Yorkshire Dales setting, Beacons essentially opens up Moorfest, a local festival for local people, to outsiders. The line-up is far-reaching in location and genre. The promotion is hot, offering fun for everyone; music, art, clothes, spirituality, food & drink… for families, scenesters, ravers, boozers, hippies… The last and first year was flooded out.

Unsurprisingly, this year is sold out.

The festival is already in full swing and soul, keen campers having arrived last night and today taken in a trio of bands I promise to see at Leeds Fest for missing here.

The campsites are small enough to find spaced and big enough to find space. Tent up, cider downed, 2_TheLeedsDebacle

we leave camp to the relaxed atmosphere of day and enter festival to the vibrant night.

Unfortunately, we do not witness this with the bright vocals and dark beats of Jesse Ware, as planned, but by being misdirected through trawling, winding, unsigned roads to an oddly remote and distant hut, a most unusual and inconvenient location to hold our golden ticket. We then accidently appear on site without passing any security. And now it’s raining…

Despite the open space, Beacons provides ample shelter from the storm. All stages are covered and so the psych-glam-fuzz of Gross Magic in the ‘Noisey/Vice’ tent and the loud dream dubstep of Mount Kimbie in the ‘Stool Pigeon’ tent receive a strong and enthusiastic crowd. Tonight is headlined by dub-rap-reggae master Rodney Smith aka Roots Manuva.

Charmingly un-bling and infectiously likeable, we are propelled through dancehalls, schmoozed by Yorkshire Olympic praise, before erupting to altOlympic cheese-on-toast anthem Witness (1 Hope).

The night continues but I don’t, laying my head in my new home.

This is when some inevitable teething problems become apparent. The party tunes are blared over the camping area and the family-friendly theme

is further questioned by an attempted 5am trip to the glory of festival toilets. Minimal in number and unusably covered in your imagination, folk are publicpeeing, like enforced Heaton Park Stone Roses hooligans.

Sunshine greets Saturday morning and I feel further refreshed at the sight of people feeling a whole lot worse than me. The food is not quite as delectable as advertised but is passable for a festival so a mediocre breakfast and rather good coffee anticipates the day.

Initial confusion letting people onto the site then throwing them back out soon redeems itself by the realisation that the festival is responding to toilet complaints and doing something about it.

Kudos. Unfortunately for The Magnetic North, the delay means they begin their mid-day set to themselves but, soon enough, have attracted an audience besotted by their Orkney-influenced picturesque folk tales of seasonal beauty. A lovely opening to shake off hangovers and kick off session two.

Speaking of which, we head over to a real success for Beacons; Whitelocks. Ye olde Leeds pub has recently been taken over by some of Beacons organisers, who have modernised without losing any traditional charm.

This approach is exemplified with

the on-site Whitelocks, where a terrific selection of real ales are supped by the most unlikely of cool customers. The association may help fill pockets but this is no mere cash-in and the roaring fire for the cold and outdoor benches for the sun make for a welcoming space easy to miss bands for.

But miss bands we mustn’t as Cass McCombs is already riding along his country dirt-track.

Expertly played sombre ballads (‘County Line’) fall surprisingly flat though chugging Americana (‘The Same Thing’) fares a little better. Followed by Still Corners, the mood remains static but now sparkles, thanks to both their glorious debut album and vocalist Tessa Murray’s jacket glistening somewhere between iconic frontwoman and ironic bingo-caller.

After Julio Bashmore had cancelled his Friday night epic, there are concerns and rumours when Weird Dreams fail to appear next, and Clock Opera later on.

The reasons are unclear but, to the festivals credit, the latter is replaced superbly by agit-punk entertainers Future of the Left, and the omissions are helped by a line-up of continuing quality causing inevitable clashes. We choose Japandroids over Splashh and are rewarded with a chaotic riot of noise met by a charged pit to bring in the night.

Next up, Ghostpoet fills the tent with effortless style and an energised set of downbeat tales that have the crowd hiphopping forward and bellowing back singles ‘Survive It’ and ‘Cash and Carry Me Home’. Headliners and adopted Yorkshire sons Wild Beasts might be preaching to the converted but their sermons are increasingly impressive. Through a back catalogue of awesomely brooding new (‘Bed of Nails’) and awkwardly catchy old (‘The Devil’s Crayon’) classics the crowd shout along, especially and comically on ‘All The Kings Men’, with Hayden Thorpe’s soaring falsetto (“watch me! watch me!”) and Tom Fleming’s warming baritone (“girls from Shipley”).

Sunday arrives with the patter of rain on tent and it seems many remain hidden under canvas until their Pearson Sound induced comedown capitulates. We finally brave the mud for marvellous tea, vintage clothes, tiny golf, bouncy slides, more ale and The Wave Pictures. Perfect 60s sunshine pop somehow fits the falling weather and cheers up a large crowd bopping to infectious off-kilter tunes (‘I Love You Like A Madman’) who now want more!

More comes more in tune with the conditions as Leeds’ Hookworms lock-in, groove-out and hypnotise a pleasingly huge head-nodding audience with their thunderous, passionate, repetitive drone and love.

Flagging, an admirable veg curry provides a second wind (so to speak) and we’re off again. Willy Mason is a big draw and reminds us that he remains a big talent oozing authenticity. He delights with audience singalongs (‘Save Myself’) and original classics (‘Oxygen’). Now fully into a relaxed Sunday session, postrock newcomers Tall Ships get us dancing to wonky electronic riffs (‘T=0’) and roaring organic choruses (‘Gallop’) to create an immediate and lasting impression.

But the end is nigh. Patrick Wolf, Felice Brothers, Cloud Nothings and, of course, Toots & the Maytals await my happy ears but a stinking carriage awaits my knackered body. There has since been much praise but also various criticisms of Beacons; unacceptable toilets, minimal additional activities, unfortunate t-shirts, over/ under(?)-zealous security, not what it said on the tin… some valid, all minor. I expect these will be better next year. I expect Beacons will be great next year. It was pretty damn good this year.

Gross Magic

Patrick Wolf TheLeedsDebacle_3

/ JOHN BARRAN

Leeds Festival O

nly days after leaving the mud and mischief of Beacons, arrives the muck and mayhem of Leeds Festival.

Vaguely recovered, I wash wellies and trudge off to the more established, less endearing, more organised, less organic, more commercial, less community, godfather.

At Bramham Park since 2003, the organisation has been perfected, with regular return buses from centre to site allowing those of us beyond teenage years to opt out of camping/babysitting. Our decision is immediately vindicated by a group of underage boys in felt-tip knobs mooning at underage girls whose own cheeks hang from cutoff-too-short levis.

And so we arrive efficiently on Friday after a surprisingly slack bag-search makes us regret not smuggling in booze. Overpriced Tuborg it is then. That and a devastating toilet trip questions why and how 75000 people enjoy

this. Then the music begins and we remember.

Django Django “fucked up the first song” but a strong turnout don’t care or notice and the set grows in confidence as their irritatingly catchy afro-indie creates some early-afternoon shape-throwing.

Later, Mark Lanegan is inevitably awesome as that voice frightens and soothes even more than the stag dressed as dinosaur Barney that I foolishly stand beside. Only here.

Kaiser Chiefs know how to please an unnecessarily-miles-away from-the stage-thanks-to-barriersand-stewards home-crowd as they football chant “Leeds Leeds Leeds” and “we all love Leeds”, promising to do the same at Reading, before leaping into ‘I Predict A Riot’. They are correct.

The Horrors have always exuded cool and now, with the songs to back it up, come across as the stereotypically perfect band.

Their mixed following create a Django Django

circle pit of hooligans, indie-kids, goths, ravers and middle-agers.

Happily odd.

Tall Ships get a rotten slot and rotten sound but the unsurprisingly small but enthusiastic crowd, who miss the start of Foo Fighters for them, dance wildly and sing drunkenly to make up for it. Foo Fighters are, of course, masterful.

Dave Grohl charms everyone and confirms his status as nicest man, coolest man, in rock, in the world.

He keeps his promise of playing for bloody ages to leave everyone happy and exhausted.

A good night’s sleep in my own bed and we’re back for Saturday.

A stroll around decent vintage clothes, improving food stalls, social area, introducing stage, fairground rides and silent disco suggest even the biggest impersonal festivals still know how to keep things fun and inclusive.

A Zouk and a pint and it’s time for The Hives. It’s taken a decade to realise just how enjoyable the Swedish garage-rockers always were. Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist, erm, howls. And leaps and kicks and bloody well entertains. Their three chords serve them well.

Graham Coxon is a less outgoing chap with a more experimental new album. Nevertheless, amidst distorted, intriguing new tracks, he treats us to his own threechord bolts of mosh-inducing simplicity too.

Wherever I go, Veronica Falls play. Having accidently seen them several times this year

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Bob Smith of Cure fame already, I am pleased to report that they have perfected the dangerous genre that is twee boy-girl schmindie and retain urgency and enjoyment alongside growing competency. In contrast, despite existing all my life and being brilliant, I have never seen The Cure. I can now safely say that I have definitely seen The Cure. I have seen 32 songs of The Cure. Yep, in a remarkably long set for bloated old buggers, they are majestic, magnificent, huge, intimate, for us, for themselves, they drag, they delight, they play the hits, they play the unknown, they entertain us, we entertain ourselves. Then I get the bus home.

Kaiser Chiefs

Then I get the bus back. Post War Glamour Girls won the Futuresound competition and were rewarded by following Green Day’s surprise Reading appearance a day earlier. No such joy today but their own explosive midday show is enough in itself to wake up destroyed weekenders.

The Shins somehow fit ill here and the only hour of heavy rain coincides and compounds. That and a disappointing new album are ominous but they lift spirits with a favourites setlist of lovely and touching melodies that the small and hooded gathering jig joyfully to.

Local brothers The Cribs fill out the Radio One / NME tent with a buzzing anticipation. Then the band come on and the tent GOES OFF!!! This is a riot and a lovein, on stage and off! Crowds are surfed, choruses are screamed, guitars are smashed! Something special happened. Kasabian and Metronomy probably can’t beat that but maybe At The Drive In can. A cult crowd gather and headbang as Cedric jolts his discometal moves to heavy riffs we’ve been waiting years to revisit. It’s great but slightly underwhelming.

One Armed Scissor ends it all. I do indeed reach my arm for the scissor, chop the bloody wristband, and am free once more.

THEME PARK TLD: How were your Beacons and Leeds Festivals?

TP: Beacons was excellent! Despite lots of mud it seemed like a really cool place. Bandie Oscar stayed for the whole weekend to party with his buddies Fun Adults. It was great to play, there was a really big crowd so we had a good time. Leeds festival was awesome! We did two sets, the first was really early so it was a bit subdued and the second everyone had had a bit to drink so it was a riot! I like them both, they have very different vibes. Smaller festivals feel special but there aren’t as many people so the atmosphere isn’t as electric, whereas the bigger ones you can connect with a large audience!

TALL SHIPS TLD: How was your Beacons experience?

TS: Very drunken and good thanks. The show was great, we had a pretty surreal weekend...

TLD: Were you here for the weekend?

TS: 2 days. We came a day early so we could watch Japandroids and Wild Beasts, who were great.

TLD: Who else did you see?

TS: We saw Cloud Nothings for the first time who were amazing.

Also Hookworms, who played my favourite set of the weekend for sure, super groovy!

TLD: How was your own set?

TS: Great thanks. Nice and busy which is always a relief. Nothing went wrong which is a rare treat also.

TLD: How was your Leeds Festival?

TS: Alright - not a touch on Beacons to be honest though! We had a few sound issues with feedback over the first 3 songs, which was a shame. But people showed up and were singing our songs at us, which was incredible!

TLD: How did it compare to Reading?

TS: They’re pretty different. Reading is a lot bigger and more hectic, whereas I’d say Leeds is a bit small and more relaxed. The site at Leeds is gorgeous compared to Reading though!

TLD: Who else did you see?

TS: At The Drive In, which was amazing. We’ve all been huge fans and never got to see them first time round so it was special to be able to see them finally. Also saw Foo Fighters encore which was fun. Best band I saw though was Marmozets on the BBC Introducing stage. So intense and so tight. And they are all ridiculously young too. Was pretty spectacular to watch.

TLD: How do you feel about larger festivals like Leeds compared to more independent ones like Beacons?

TS: I definitely prefer the smaller independent ones. Beacons is a great example really. Loads of interesting bands playing which you can stumble upon easily because the site’s so small. With the bigger ones you generally only get much more established ‘big’ bands. Which means you only really see what you know and there are much fewer opportunities to see really exciting fresh bands. Also, the smaller ones are much more personal. You can drink tasty local ales instead of warm Tuborg and meet loads of wicked people because everything is much more intimate and relaxed!

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POST WAR GLAMOUR GIRLS TLD: How was your Beacons?

PWGG: Brilliant, we played first thing on the Friday and then got to stay and party for the whole weekend!

Beacons really did have a lot of character, it was unique, the ale tent was ace and the line up was the best one this summer.

TLD: How was your Leeds Festival?

PWGG: I put about 2 stone on in the artist catering tent and I saw Mastodon throwing clumps of dirt over the fence at people going round on the ferris wheel.

Mastodon are funny lads, proper grizzly American rock dudes. If I started doing that everyone would think I was a right tool but they get away with it, and rightly so. Leeds has a special place in our heart as it’s the first festival we went to as young whippersnappers.

Wandering round the site after we played everything looked a lot better than when I used to go as a kid.

Which would I prefer to go to as a punter? Neither, I’d rather headline them and then fuck off to my hotel and get a good nights kip!

TLD: How were your own sets?

PWGG: Really good, we played Beacons mainstage, I love the sound and the space on a big stage, but I do miss being close to the audience... plus I lost my glasses so I can’t see who I’m playing to, it’s like playing to a field of identical twins! But yes, really ace. Leeds was brilliant, again, my lead kept coming out of my pedals because I was free roaming. The tent got busier as we played which was pretty rewarding.

Thank you everyone who came and stuck around.

Seeing behind the scenes is impressive, hats off to the sound engineers and how fast those stage crews work to swap over between bands, they’re the real heroes of the festivals.

TLD: Who else did you see?

PWGG: Wild Beasts were ace as expected, Willis Earl Beal was 1000 times more ace than expected, Factory Floor were also pretty good. But Beacons local bands...

Blacklisters, Hawk Eyes, Eagulls, Imp and Stalking Horse, for me, were better than any of the big draws.

At Leeds we had a grand finale of Mastodon, Cribs and At The Drive In, which was pretty special.

Cribs stole the show for me. I posted a pic of them playing and my mum shared it on facebook thinking it was us - nice one mum!

VERONICA FALLS TLD: How was your Beacons experience?

VF: It was fun, a bit of a whirlwind really as we had 3 festivals that weekend so were only at Beacons for about an hour and a half then had to drive straight from the show to Holland for Lowlands. I remember the show itself being really fun though! Playing festivals is always way different to playing your own show, but lots of people showed up right before we played, which was nice.

TLD: How was your Leeds Festival?

VF: Leeds was cool, unfortunately The Cure started on the Main Stage midway through our set so we lost a few fans! But the people who stuck around for the rest of our set made it totally worth it. Loading the gear and leaving the site was kindly soundtracked by the Cure.

TLD: How do you feel about larger festivals like Leeds compared to more independent ones like Beacons?

VF: It’s definitely a different experience, but I wouldn’t say either was better or worse. All festivals are tricky, change over and line-check is always so hectic, sometimes you’re just glad you made it to the stage on time.

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ANONYMOUS POEM SUBMITTED / ANONYMOUS READER The provenance of this poem is that it was written on a piece of paper which was found folded between two floor boards of a restored windmill. The reference to the sails is to the sails of the windmill, not a boat. Mr Castree Hughes was a real man and was not the person described in the poem. He died in the 1970’s and was a gentleman and a benefactor and the driving force behind the restoration of the tower windmill, among other good he did in his life. The poem, written in blank verse, has a female voice and the handwriting is suggestive of a teenager who I feel has a natural writing ability. It contains a ghost story, a murder/ suicide and ends with a powerful sense of future threat, even inescapable doom, involving necromancy. All contained in just five lines. I feel it deserves exposure.

Do you hear the creaking upstairs? It’s spooky isn’t it? that is Henry Castree Hughes.

For fifty years he made mad love to his mistress.

One night he cut off her head and then hung himself from the sails.

Tonight he comes to make mad love to you.

/ TIM CHAPMAN In the midmorning the lorries woke me and she moved up to me all warm and soft and I checked the time and nestled my head back into the pillow. When I woke again she sat drinking coffee and reading short stories one after the other, an interruption being bathtime, and even that spent with the pages turning and the eyes scanning before returning to bed with a fresh chapter in hand. I done the same, but as a slow reader with a mind that wanders like a child that is not kept an eye on, I plodded through at my steady pace, smoking along the way and allowing some of my imaginings to blossom into pleasant miniature stories that faded as my amusement withdrew and I thus returned to the book. As in many times when perched on the windowsill smoking and thinking ideas flow from all passages to amalgamate into some chaotic ball of flux and spewing avenues and scenarios for which to test and observe and from this solid soup not tentacles and redirection be confirmed but more the scaling body of mutant form is perceived like a billion leaves that make the bush and the bush is one of gestalt form as an antonym to real thought as it is both and all and nothing. Sometimes on the sill there are sections of the scenery, the pub, cars, lampposts, roads and kerb that attain a magnificent beauty in their being of stillness. They produce a river of silence that splashes my eyes with icy water and cools my ears with its poetry. All this and then I return to the bed to read or write and sometimes it may be that the scenery writes me with my water logged writing hand or reading stare is hydrated with the sweet lack of self. When supper came it was an exquisite banquet, the small beans smothered in sauce next to rich brown mushrooms smelling like heaven and golden eggs scrambled and buttered and we sat together and ate and sipped clear water and hot coffee, talked and laughed and looked upon each other with such fondness as close communion and intimate relation brings and thought of thinking and spoke of words and sang about symphonies of art and piety and before long our need and thirst over took us and we read and wrote more, the cyclical creation device lurched forward with a sigh and we drummed the steady beat of knowledge and peered into the realm of writers and their illusions set into the complexity of our own subjective theatre.

TheLeedsDebacle_9

/ ROSS NEWSOME

Olympricks OOO O

Who knew volunteering could be fun?

S

o my story begins on 22nd December 2011, I’d recently moved from Leeds to London (for no particular reason) and didn’t have a job. On one of my says spent scouring job boards for work of any description I came across an advert stating specifically “male drummers required for Olympics Opening Ceremony”. Now, I’m no drummer, but I’m certainly male, can hit things in time so I figured I’d give it a go, and with all the jokes about drummers (there must be some truth in them, eg, how do you know when the stage is level?

Your drummer drools out of both sides of his mouth) it couldn’t be that difficult.

Application complete, I received an email congratulating me and requesting I choose an audition date from four offered between 14th and 17 February 2012. This audition was to be in a group of 200 and if successful I would role specific audition from 18th to 22nd February.

Wednesday 15th February came, I still didn’t have job, but I did have an audition at 3 Mills Studio in Bromley-by-Bow. The first audition was the worst, having pinned my number to my t-shirt, we had to learn/perform a routine with a narrative of waking up, going downstairs, getting coffee, back upstairs, drinking coffee (and it waking me up with a ping sound effect), showering, getting dressed and some other actions which either escape me or I’ve blocked out. The group was a mix of dancer types and drummer types, it was pretty obvious which were which. I’m really not one for all this jazz hands, lovvie performance nonsense, it was as camp as Christmas.

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My freestyle dance moved must have clearly impressed as they emailed the following day inviting me to a role specific audition on Sunday 19th Feb. Sunday arrived and I dutifully pinned another number to my t-shirt. This audition was disappointing due to the lack of female dancers, however we did get to hit upturned buckets with drum sticks, I’m not sure if this qualifies as drumming but at least I didn’t have to dance.

I think this was the first time Rick Smith from Underworld was present... Oooooohhhh.

So, I can clearly dance, but can I drum? In a word, no. I didn’t hear anything and I thought it was safe to assume I wouldn’t be part of the fun. Still, I managed to get a job.

Cut to 15th May 2012, busy(ish) working in high finance in the City of London, I receive an email again congratulating me (although I’m not sure what for) and offering a place as a volunteer cast performer, perhaps they’d just lost the footage of me performing with the bucket?

The role was in cast group 51A, dual role in both Opening and Closing Ceremonies i n v o l v i n g movement/ marshaling and a proportion of

drumming skills. This email also included the rehearsal schedule, 22 rehearsals between 22nd May and the opening ceremony on 27th July. I think this put a lot of people off, but realising I was a grafter, they knew I’d be unfazed by such a rigorous regime... that and my contract was coming to an end and looming unemployment meant I’d have time on my hands.

At the first rehearsal we watched a video mock up of the first segment we would be performing in named ‘Pandemonium’ and then over at a small scale mock up, Danny Boyle talked us through the set, which would feature live sheep, ducks and cows. There was to be a ruddy great bell - the largest tuned one in the world - on the Bell Stage, or more befitting Opening

Damp, damp Thursday to the XXX Olympics, the Bell End - this is about as smutty as it got.

We then did a bit of a drumming exercise by slapping out bodies “thigh, thigh, tummy, chest, clap, chest”.

There were three sites listed on the rehearsal schedule, 3 Mills (as mentioned before), Dagenham 1:1 and the Olympic Stadium. Dagenham 1:1 I hear you puzzle? Oh glorious, picturesque, cosmopolitan Dagenham, surely the place where dream come true? It was a hugh car park where all the newly built Ford Sierra’s and Cortina’s would sit following production back in the day, it was pretty grim. At Dags’ we got acquainted with our drum, I’d initially tried to get a bass bin - because who wants a plastic bucket when you can have a bin?

But attention soon turned to the metal buckets which lay glistening in the Dagenham sun - this, was the bucket for me. The other introduction at Dagenham was my number - 581 - and the initially exciting, but latterly repulsive, meal packs. They were feeding Closing

us, so I wasn’t going to complain.

One standard issue meal pack contained a sandwich (often comprising of a lot a bread and not a lot of filling - the ciabatta of doom was best avoided), a mini pipe of Pringles, one Nature Valley cereal (though probably dust) bar and a Braeburn apple. At some of the longer rehearsals we could have two meal packs. There was a period I’d enjoy a cereal bar as elevensies at work, however those days are now a distant memory.

Rehearsals were generally around five hours, sometimes a bit less, but on the whole, very sunny, my Olympic t-shire tan was pretty impressive.

Although there were occasions of rain - notably damp Thursday, 12th July, stood in the middle of the stadium, in a rain poncho, many cited this as a low point.

Drumming and Marshaling, Opening and Closing.

The drumming bit was pretty straight forward, there were a few different patterns

to play with instructions given over in ear monitors, we never learnt the exact piece as it had to be flexible to change if things were taking longer to clear on the field of play should it rain. The main rhythm was taught to us with the following phrase “Play the drum, so my mum, can see me on TV”. This turned out to be nothing but lies as I wasn’t on TV once.

Marshaling was to guide athletes through their entry parade and brought me back to my old friend - dance! We were taught four dance sequences by a lady called Tash, she claimed the moved were “really street and really cool” they were shit and I hated doing it... at first! I really surprised myself, towards the end I really started to enjoy the marshaling, I did a wicked ‘step, tap, step, tap’, so much in fact I really started to ham it up, much to the displeasure of those to either side of me. My mantra was “fuck it, if you can’t be a dick in front of 4 billion people, who can you be a dick in front of?”. This was more true of the Closing ceremony when the costumes were even more ridiculous!

I read people complaining that £27 million cost of the Opening Ceremony could have been better spent on hospitals, walking old people or housing vagrants, but I really don’t think I would have had as much fun, and that, I think, was the most important part.

TheLeedsDebacle_11

/ EMILY WARD

Sarah Lucas

‘Ordinary Things’

S

pringing from the British Art scene in the 90’s, Sarah Lucas was famous for being extreme and provocative. She is most well known for her quirky, feminist style and THAT mattress which greets you on arrival; Au Naturel (1994) consists of cleverly positioned fruit and vegetables in place of a man and a woman.

To which my mother commented upon how often they must have to replace the melons.

Lucas has explored photography and collage but, in this new exhibition, presents her collection of sculptures and installations, exploring themes of sexuality, femininity and humour. Everyday items are ‘used’ and ‘from’ the body, such as hair and newspaper to the contrast of cement and plaster. The pieces are an insightful look at sculpture and its bounds (or lack of them) amongst views on feminism and society.

The main section of the exhibition is a series of pieces that consists of ladies tights, stuffed and arranged in strange but oddly beautiful ways, almost reminiscent of flesh and body parts. One dash of colour amongst the subdued hue of the tights is a large cement block of good old Spam, which received a lot of confused faces amongst visitors, but does show Lucas’ humorous side.

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Form is clearly important to Lucas’ practice, as she bravely explores plaster and cement amongst the varied materials throughout her career, to which a great portfolio is on show. The range of work is all hand made, something that is invaluable to show the relationship between the finished piece and body.

Admittedly, this artist is not afraid to use sexual objects and assumptions to comment upon culture, which could be seen as vulgar and not as family friendly as previous exhibitions have been, but it does show the shift in contemporary sculpture and makes use of the wonderful space within the Henry Moore gallery.

A recurring theme within the pieces is materials that decay verses sculptures that are immortalised in cement. With objects being represented by perishables sat opposite to items that will forever be solid, highlighting the concept of life and death that is regularly favoured by artists.

Perhaps not one for the family then, but a really thought provoking exploration into sculpture and the back catalogue of Lucas’ work, as well as current pieces.

Exhibition on at the Henry Moore Institute 19th July – 21st October 2012

Robert Endeacott TLD: Tell us how and why you started writing.

RE: I’m not sure when I actually started writing, it’s probably more a case of never having stopped since my school days. One of my earliest memories is being taught how to read by my Mum and thinking how brilliant it would be to write my own books. For most of my life I’ve written short stories or articles on favourite bands and films, just to keep the writing flowing, regardless of how poor or pointless it seemed.

TLD: You have a history of books based around Leeds and the city’s football team.

RE: My stories are more about the experiences of a teenage Leeds fan, which, as my first published pieces were set in the 80s, meant I had great resources involving the music scene, the pub scene and the plain ob-scene of a teenager learning to grow up. The first Leeds game I ever attended was when I was four, though I certainly don’t remember it, partly because I couldn’t see over the Lowfields Road stand wall. Eventually LUFC began to matter to me and I’ve been a fan for over 40 years now.

Naturally, the fortunes of the club have run parallel to my own life and it has often felt like an addiction rather than a pleasuregiving hobby.

TLD: How much of the books are based on yourself?

RE: My first two books (One Northern Soul and No More Heroes) are virtually all ‘me’ but under the pseudonym of Steve Bottomley. I used a made-up name because some of the stories are rather embarrassing and harmful to the reputation of such a fine, upstanding and pure man haha!

All my books are a mix of fact and fiction, I think story-telling has a wider appeal that way and I feel I do a better job of writing. Dirty Leeds and the sequel DisreputeRevie’s England are the true tales 14_TheLeedsDebacle

of Don Revie and Leeds United but told from the perspective of the fictional Jimmy O’Rourke, a Beeston child of 1950 who tells the reader about his own life and experiences too. Although I’m 15 years younger than Jimmy, much of my persona is his. There are certain more personal events that are taken from my own life which are often quite discomfiting to write about, but then again, it often helps the ‘healing process’ too. It hasn’t been difficult to write about a Beeston-born, football crazy, Leeds United-mad lad really!

much, plus there was controversial material which they possibly felt uneasy about publishing. This new edition, called After Extra Time (Dirty Leeds Uncut), is the full version containing 47,000 more words. I’ve tried not to shy away from the controversies involving Don Revie and Leeds United, plus I genuinely consider it to be a morerounded and entertaining novel now. Bringing out this version also enabled me to ‘do a bit’ for a great cause. 10% of print copies’ sale price is going to Candlelighters, Yorkshire’s foremost children’s cancer charity.

TLD: Have you or do you plan to write on other subjects?

RE: I studied Screenwriting MA at Leeds Met earlier this century and so I am - for the benefit of any film directors & producers reading this - a superbly gifted screenwriter too! Seriously though, I’m proud to say that I have co-written a lovely ‘dual-biopic’ on a famed 20th century English artist & one of his most famous cartoon creations. I feel I need to be quite secretive about it as I don’t want anyone to nick the idea! I’m concurrently working with three separate great writers on three screenplays too, one is a film and two are TV drama series. Plus I was lucky enough to lead the writing of a screenplay about Leeds’ very own Queens Hotel but the whole project has stalled because an early promise of funding never materialised.

Ultimately, most writers need to have an income to survive on and ‘time is money’, of which I have little of either!

TLD: What keeps you living in Leeds? What are your thoughts on how the city has developed over the years?

RE: Loved ones, family & friends are the main reasons of course. On a very sad note, my Mum died in August 2011 and so I spend a lot of my time helping care for my Dad, whilst trying to get a bit of writing done whenever possible. I’m lucky as well that my girlfriend lives in south Leeds so she often has the privilege of looking after me! The football club being so close is a big plus point, as are Leeds people in general, Beeston has some of the best people on the planet! For me it’s the people of a place who truly define its quality, and I believe that Leeds is one of the best cities around. Still, I could easily say too much about what’s wrong with the place too. Undeniably Leeds has its social problems, and wherever, whenever a place is seen to be prospering and gaining in fashionable prominence, it is guaranteed that inequality amongst its people grows too.

As does resentment, greed and jealousy. I see Leeds as a good barometer for how the country as a whole is faring and I don’t think it’s too outrageous a remark to say that too many people are fixated on self and on fast-tracking to wealth and prosperity by whatever means, good or dubious. Of course,

TLD: Tell us about your new release of ‘Dirty Leeds’.

RE: Whilst I was delighted to work with Tonto Books and at how well the original edition fared, it had a lot of material edited out. Hardly a problem but I did want to see my version out there, in all its newborn glory. I think it’s safe to say that I originally wrote too

I’d like to see less crime and less violence, less pubs closing, less litter & vandalism, less antisocial behaviour. I’d like to see us as a society show more consideration for each other, as well as provide better care for the elderly and needy, plus more enjoyable games and bigger crowds at Elland Road of course. As you can see, I’d make a rubbish politician because I get distracted by less serious matters such as football and drinking! All in all, I love this city, there is always something happening here for us to enjoy and take part in, and I rarely feel out of place or uncomfortable.

TLD: Do you still go to Leeds Utd? What are your thoughts on the current situation?

RE: Yes I still go, I probably always will. I have a season ticket for home games and get to a few away as well. Like most other Leeds fans, I’m not sure what the ‘current situation’ actually is! I’m hoping there will be a takeover very soon and that new owners take control of the club and get the balance of investment right, by spending money first &

foremost on the playing squad and academy for the future. I don’t want to waste time commenting on the number of insulting, greedy, possibly crooked egotists we supporters have had to suffer at Elland Road in recent years, only to say that I’m hopeful of a brighter future for the club and the fans. Professional football is important to countless people, and Leeds United is a big part of many folks’ lives. What too many businessmen and football professionals forget is that the supporters of a football club are its lifeblood. Leeds United supporters provide arguably the best proof of that, anywhere. Those supporters deserve the gratitude and respect of club chairmen. We haven’t enjoyed that privilege here for years!

TLD: What are your future plans?

RE: I’m very slowly working on a biography of sorts on my fave band The Stranglers, but it has taken me ages to get started. I will finish it! I will be bringing out the final instalment of the Dirty Leeds Trilogy. It’s called ‘Scandal FC’ and the first draft is complete.

I have other book ideas and of course I remain eternally hopeful that I’ll get something produced for TV or cinema. There have been constant yearnings within me too to get Dirty Leeds adapted for the stage, I am very envious - in a positive, camaraderic way - of the great theatre productions made of Gary Edwards’ ‘Paint It White’ and Anthony Clavane’s ‘Promised Land’, and feel that Dirty Leeds has the basis of another superb play. In football, my only plan is to not get too euphoric when it all starts going well again, nor to get too depressed when it all goes shit again! Important as football and writing is, nothing is as important as friends and family, nothing.

I really can’t see myself ever retiring. I enjoy writing too much, retiring from writing would be like retiring from drinking or watching footie. As long as I have ambitions & goals, I’ll try and enjoy being busy, and my list of ambitions doesn’t seem to be getting shorter very quickly! I did say a while ago that I fully intend writing an equal number of books to that of my age, which is bloody barmy obviously. But what the hell, it’s a target!

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/ GARETH JONES

Submit your three word suggestions to thedebacle@hotmail.co.uk

Gaz’s Rhyming Stories H

is hearing aid acted like an amp, but Peter forgot it and left for camp. Original music was the teachers command, on this long weekend with the rest of the band. The older kids started to cuss, but Peter heard nothing as he sat on the bus.

They arrived at log cabins in the woods, emptied the coach of all their goods. Peter knew the children he must dodge, as he unpacked his clothes in the lodge.

They all went for dinner in the main hall, as music began to play off the wall.

He stood at the front playing a tune with a trumpet; his weathered old face looked like a crumpet.

Casting a spell by playing live, the man played Mambo number 5. He took Angela, Pamela, Sandra and Rita, all of the kids apart from Peter.

The evil conductor planned to raise hell, but Peter didn’t fall under his spell. He took one step left and one step right, to get himself out of sight. The Concertmaster marched out of the hall, with all but one under his call.

Peter sat thinking in his room, the trumpet was key it was safe to assume. He continued to think as he played with his quiff, concocting a plan that scared him stiff. Armed with his flute and a laser pen, pressure was on this boy of ten.

The man marched the kids away from the camp, lighting the way with an oil lamp. He was kicked out of town with no compensation, taking the kids was retaliation.

They refused to pay him after a fall at work, with no injury claim he went berserk.

Shining the laser was Peter’s plan, a sign in the sky akin to Batman.

The laser was weak with batteries

Quiff, Laser, Trumpet

AA; he would have to think of another way. The only option was to use a phone, a device to Peter that was unknown.

Unsure if they answered his SOS call, Peter could hear bugger all.

He followed the footsteps away from the camp, set in the earth because of the damp. Flickers of light spilled into the sky, as the oil lamp swayed like a firefly.

Peter hid in the bushes like a sniper, and played his flute like the pied piper. Playing when the saints go marching in, all he created was a din. Drowned out by the trumpet and hid in a bush, he was out of ideas and sat on his tush.

Into a cave marched the class, with the man playing mambo on his brass. They all disappeared into the crater, as their parents arrived moments later. Peter’s laser pen shone into the ground,

Three Sheets To The Wind

… The Debacle’s comprehensive student guide of where to get drunk as Lord Skunk in Leeds.

I

t’s that time folks. When locals shake heads and businesses rub hands. When empty northern evenings are filled with a painful southern twang of overexcitement. Yep, the students are here to take over our streets like fun-following zombies. To help our lovely friends settle in to their next 3 months of alcoholism, here’s The Debacle’s guide to which drinking holes to visit and avoid…

whilst Wrens and Town Hall Tavern have upgraded from characterful decrepits to pleasing gastropubs.

Try not to mistake The Duncan, 3 Legs or The Regent for any of these if you want to complete your degree alive. For a pint at their prices, order Sam Smiths at The Angel instead.

The student hotspot Headingley and the (in)famous ‘Otley Run’.

Whilst losers pretend that ogling from the Jack Wills wearing The Box to The Oak’s splendid lagerfuelled garden then over to the grittier Skyrack suffices, the real runners stumble from Woodies, 3 Horse Shoes, New Inn, veer through Taps, Arc, Trio, return to those initially mentioned, then continue on to student-soaked Hyde Park, Library and rootsier Packhorse, Eldon, Fenton. Oh, and remember, unless you’re not an idiot, miss out the fantastic sanity-saving alehouse Arcadia.

It’s for the more refined drunk. If you are an idiot, end at Oceana.

Other choices are uni bars or Fav or Fab or Strawberry Fields or Dry Dock. Or town.

For a pint at double the price but worth it, North Bar is a Leeds treasure with a huge selection of quality lagers. Along the same street, lined with rotten takeaways, are underground cool jazz bar Sela and excellent cocktail’n’roll newcomer Wax. More rock’n’roll can be found at Milo and more cocktails in a swisher swanky setting at a ‘secret bar’ ‘with no name’ that is actually opposite Milo and called The Maven. City slickers take in impressive 13th floor views at Sky Lounge, or get it wrong at Greek Street and Tiger Tiger. Show-offs may also want to glug champagne at classy Epernay or tryhard Chilli White, and don designer sunglasses in Oracle’s excellent raycatching outdoor terrace.

The city centre holds an array of liquid delights and disasters.

Magnificent traditional pubs The Victoria and Whitelocks are welcoming boozers for all-comers,

The great outdoors are far between but, if you can find a seat, Aire Bar and Calls Landing overlook the river and The Lounge atops a roof.

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The Duck & Drake and The Palace have unpretentious outsides and, slightly further out towards Holbeck Village, Midnight Bell, Cross Keys and The Hop offer good ale for good people. Or you could bathe with cheap drinks in cheap atmospheres at Wetherspoons, Yates’ and Revolution. Bottom Revs yard joins into that of Queens Court, Leeds’ premier gay bar and, next to that, Fibre, Leeds’, erm, premier gay bar.

Adjacent to these, the party goes off down Call Lane, especially at

Oporto

jager-capitals Oporto and Jakes, spinning your favourite tunes.

Down and across the lane offer indie, electro and hedonism at the likes of Brooklyn, Normans, BRB, Neon Cactus, Call Lane Social… you’ll love it! Just be prepared to queue and to wake up with amnesia. For a miniversion, there’s Merrion Street where brother & sister Reform & Verve line up alongside original authentic dusty gem Mojo and nearby tapas party Sandinista!

Sports fans must mostly plunder O’Neills, Walkabout, Hourglass and other undesirables for their Sky Sports, though real-ale cracker Mr Foleys, the super Leeds Brewery’s PIN, the popular Elbow Rooms and the enjoyable Northern Monkey provide exceptions. The latter is probably best avoided by non-loiners on LUFC matchdays, as is the otherwise fine Scarborough Taps area. For those wanting to avoid Sunday sport altogether, there’s a nice choice of relaxing spots providing quality booze, food and ambience. Roasts at Adelphi or Arts or, aptly named, Roast. Delicious deli delights at Friends of Ham and Dock Street

North Bar

Market. Quiz and games and laze at Reliance. Howard Marks’ unsurprisingly chilled Azucar. Or the better-known, but still smart, Browns.

Music-lovers are spoiled with, probably the best venue in the world, Brudenell, attracting social-clubbers, students, locals and hipsters to Hyde Park for faultless listings. The Cockpit has hosted legendary gigs in its black hole and continues to lead the way. Recently saved, The Well puts on cult rock & metal, Escobar and Shed play indie, Carpe Diem and Empire try both. Bigger shows hit The Academy and, bigger still, Leeds Arena. The cool kids hang at the terrific Nation of Shopkeepers, which remains friendly to all, or discover top timewarp Baby Jupiter. For folk, The Grove.

For soul, funk & hiphop, HiFi, Smokestack, Distrikt and The Wardrobe. For comedy, Highlight and Mr Bens. For your own show, OK Karaoke! And Holy Trinity is putting on some fine independent offerings if drinking at gigs in a church appeals!

Into the night, alternative kids hit the above gig venues for clubnights, aswell as rad regulars such as all-encompassing Straight Up at Wire and long-running modfest Brighton Beach at the uni. Clubbers can move from Mook to next door house-frenzy Space, or stay up at the pulsating Mint or old-skool Warehouse or the ecstatic Mission, then, unwisely, carry on all weekend at the monged Stinky’s Peephouse.

There’s something for everyone, you can even take in the reggae soundsystems of Chapeltown’s West Indian Centre.

Of course, some students are dumb-asses and tend to end at diabolical discos ploughing pitiful pop and general badness. They can go to the alternate 1985 meat-market Players or tacky R&B heaven Halo. There are lots more of these too, and there are probably many other worthy unmentioned contenders offering more nights of delerium than your trembling stomach, croaking voice and aching head can handle.

Enjoy!

The HiFi Club

Azucar

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/ DAN CLARK

Paddy Wagstaff P

addy Wagstaff is the brains behind weekly sensation Straight Up, co-runs Call Lane’s Wire and promotes his own nights Kaleidoscope, Girl Talk, 499 Club and The Lizard Lounge. Dan Clark meets…

I arrange to meet Paddy Wagstaff in the VIP bar section of Leeds Festival 2012. It may sound clichéd, but an area like this is somewhere Paddy feels most at home. A Serengeti for his bounding gazelle-like gait. I first met Paddy as a cocky, funny and endearingly eager young man who spent his spare time DJing or helping his friends’ bands out. In the five years since, Paddy has graduated from university, his hair has got shorter and his outfits “spicier” (one of his favourite and unique expressions) but other than that very little has changed. He still possesses a burning enthusiasm for, not just music and specifically live music, but a ‘night out’ as an experience, an event that the partygoer will not forget in a hurry. Paddy also has a trait that you’ll find uncommon amongst promoters, alongside the banter and the bullshit is a searing honesty that seems to be borne from a genuine desire to see people enjoy his nights. All of this and more was forthcoming when I met him; TLD: Alright Paddy, nice to see you here. I bet you’re enjoying yourself amongst all these different types of music. For anyone who doesn’t know, why don’t you tell us about some of your guests?

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PW: We’ve had all sorts. The Horrors, that was a laugh. I took Joshua back to a house party and he got so bonkered he wanted to dismantle a trampoline in the garden and set it up in the living room. Mystery Jets, they love the birds, and Gross Magic were memorable, the lead singer asked for three white Russians and then proceeded to play the opening song from Jurassic Park.

Others were Blood Red Shoes (a bit crap), Metronomy (Obenga, lovely guy but hates the booze) and Hookworms. In future, we’ve got The Horrors coming back, which should be class. I managed to get Theme Park as a couple of the lads used to live in Leeds. I’ve also got Charli XcX, I had booked her to DJ in September but she got offered the Coldplay support tour.

I would have told Chris Martin to piss off. His stuff these days is crap, I didn’t mind it when he was walking down beaches in the rain, you know what I’m saying? Oh yeah and we’ve also got Best Friends DJIng, they’re this ace band based in Sheffield and they’re actually playing a live gig for me at HiFi the night before.

TLD: What would you put down the popularity of your club nights to?

PW – It’s hard to say exactly. I honestly think it might be because we play Sean Paul, I don’t know about you but I bloody love Sean Paul. I think one reason why the night has done so well over the past year is to do with the guys and gals who DJ. I mean we kind of tick all the boxes, we have some people who love the 60s, DJs who love disco, people like Jack Martin from Jumbo Records, who really has it down when it comes

to new music. So all together we can cater for everyone. The thing is you can pretend to be the ‘coolest’ night in the world and you could have the coolest kids in town come down to your club but if you’re dropping ‘super cool’ left field tracks at half two people won’t come back because that aint what you want to dance to when your drunk, you play that shit at home when you’re getting ready. People want to hear ‘Call Me Al’ or something like that, you can’t build an atmosphere in a club late on by playing something like Warpaint… know what I’m saying?

TLD: I do. I think it’s kind of obvious when you put it like that but I guess not a lot of people think that laterally. For them it’s all about image.

PW: Exactly. I think some club nights try too hard or jump on bandwagons. You get these nights that say they play ‘drum and bass, dub step, electro, indie, hip-hop’ and it’s like, come on guys, just stick to something you know. If you’re passionate about a style of music then go with that. I hate these huge commercial club nights, naming no names but, my God, they are awful. They give Leeds a bad name by putting on fucking The Only Way Is Essex DJ sets and crap like that. There is an amazing independent club circuit that I wished more people would find out about, but when you have these national brands coming in and throwing tonnes of money at the student population, it’s harder to reach them.

/ EMILY HALLEWELL

Kirkgate Market W

e all love Leeds Kirkgate Market. What’s not to love? Food-wise, you can get pretty much anything you’d find in a supermarket (and more, at places such as the Polish and Chinese shops), at half the price, and you can buy it from someone who’ll pack your bags for you, or offer to gut and fillet your fish for no extra cost, or give you the garlic for free because it isn’t quite at its best.

You can also get a new house key if you drop yours in the river (oops), a haircut or manicure, hosiery, haberdashery, clothes, household goods... Basically, you can get nigh on anything. I don’t know about you, but on the rare occasions when I do pop into the supermarket I tend to get a nasty shock.

People have been worried about the Market recently, because of the mix of fact and rumour swirling round Leeds City Council’s plans for renovation. I’m going to try to give you the facts and let you make up your own mind on the rest.

The Market has been around in some form since 1857, and has seen numerous changes since then, not least the devastating fire of 1975, which destroyed the area in which the 1976 hall now stands. It saw additions in 1905 and 1981, and now it seems that it is likely to see a reduction.

The plan favoured by Quarterbridge – the consultation company hired by the Council – goes as follows. First, the outdoor market should be knocked down and turned into a works area.

22_TheLeedsDebacle

Next, the 1976 hall should be knocked down so a basement can be built underneath, then rebuilt afterwards. They want to get rid of the 1981 hall entirely (the one next to ‘76) and put a new outdoor market there, with a roof over the top. With a bit of shuffling inside and the extension of the balcony in the 1905 hall into a ‘food court’ area, the plan is to make up some of the loss of rentable space by using the area more efficiently. At the end of the works, the space that is now the outdoor market would then be free for some other use, as yet to be determined.

None of this will come for free, and Quarterbridge were also asked to come up with suggestions for how the massive project could be funded and run. Their recommendation (a Limited Liability Partnership with outside investors) has proved very unpopular, as people feel that this would be ‘privatising’ the Market, something traders and some councillors are very much against.

However, money does need to be raised, and the degree of input and control accorded to investors would be something to negotiate if they were to be invited in.

Another option is for the Market to be run as some kind of social enterprise. This is what the Friends of Leeds Kirkgate Market (see below) want – you can see details in the spring edition of their Kirkgate Market Gazette – and further investigation into this option has been written into the official project plan. If a viable model could be found, this could prove very popular with traders and the public, and would reflect positively on the Council

in public opinion. However, popularity is not necessarily a sign of success, and it would be difficult for a publicly owned or charitable company to raise the funds necessary to refurbish and maintain the Market.

But is all of this even necessary?

What benefits would there be to customers, traders, and the Council? Well, there are some reasons to welcome change. There would be fewer empty stalls (the aim is 100% occupancy), meaning that the Council would not be wasting money on maintaining an unprofitable section of the building and so would have more to spare on the profitable sections, potentially even allowing them to cut rents (I don’t think that this is likely, but it is possible). A shuffle around would enable shoppers to find what they want more easily, making a trip to the Market more enjoyable for the first time customer – who would then be more likely to return. The project has prompted the Council to undertake muchneeded repairs to the building, and further rejuvenation would follow. Stallholders would have more storage space in the new basement, and would potentially also see increased sales if the Market were seen as a more attractive destination (I am dubious about this – I’ll admit to being afraid of things that seem a bit ‘rough’ and the Market has always seemed inviting to me).

One point on which opinion is unlikely to be divided is the prospect of a roof over the covered market area, which would hopefully make business more consistent. The baseline is that the Market needs to keep making

money if it is to survive – the Council could not justify keeping open a shopping centre that lost money, no matter how historical or well-loved it is.

As well as benefits, there are also drawbacks and dangers. The main issues in contention are the loss of 25% of the market (we will certainly no longer have the largest outdoor market in Europe), the question of who will own and manage the Market, and possible rent increases tied in with the fact that all traders will need to reapply for a stall. A fourth issue is the fact that even if the solution works out well for most traders, there will be up to a five year interruption for many before they apply to return. And what about the shoppers? I get all of my fruit and veg from the outdoor market, and that’s where the man selling Mediterranean delicacies like olives and baklava has his stall.

There isn’t a second-hand book stall inside either, and what about the ‘Bazaar’ on Wednesdays?

Possibly the most vocal group opposing change is the Friends of Leeds Kirkgate Market (FOLKM), who have repeatedly accused the

Council of neglecting the Market and the interests of its traders in their attempts to “redevelop the Market into just another bland, segregated shopping opportunity for a well-heeled elite.” FOLKM claim that the Market has long been suffering from “decline and neglect”, and that it is the Council’s neglect that has caused the decline.

Unfortunately, while calling for honesty and integrity is always a good thing, the antagonistic attitude of the Friends has denied them some supporters and prevents open dialogue with the Council and market management.

FOLKM have been involved with the popular “reduce the rent, not the size” campaign, started in response to rumours about the 25% shrink. You may have seen the posters on the sides of stalls, part of traders’ attempts to change the Council’s mind on the issues. This seems unlikely to happen. In a recent blog post on the Leeds Market official website, Markets Manager Sue Burgess hit back at critics with a defence of rents and the project as a whole.

She acknowledged that people are concerned, and that some of

the options being considered are “unpalatable to many”, but said that something has to be done to make the Market commercially viable, “to make sure it survives”.

Could Kirkgate Market survive as is? I don’t know. Income has been declining steadily over the last few years – in line with income from any shop not selling luxury goods – but footfall has actually increased in the Market recently, so maybe more people are realising what a great place it is to shop in a recession. My aim was to give you facts, and so I will simply end with a few thoughts.

I love the Market. I hope that the model chosen will work in the favour of traders, because without them there won’t be a Kirkgate Market and we’ll end up with another blander Corn Exchange, or Trinity, which houses minimal shops I would ever be likely to use.

I use the Market every day, and if we don’t – if we prefer Primark and Tesco and their late opening hours – then we will lose it. The number one determining factor for business success is profit. So if you do want to see this piece of history succeed in the future, get yourself down there and pick up some bargains!

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/ JOSEPH J. WOOD

Mutiny in a Ford Mondeo T

here’s this kind of screaming that only kids around Billy’s age can do.

It happens when they start growing up and they realise that eventually they’re gonna be completely independent but they can’t deal with that, so they start screaming like a baby cos when they were a baby everything was fine. And they know that when they grow up everything will be awful.

And Billy is around that age and that is how he’s screaming. He’s in the back seat of his Mum and Dad’s Mondeo, just sitting there not doing anything other than screaming that kind of screaming that only kids his age can do. His dad’s in the front driving, making sure the car doesn’t go any faster or any slower than sixty miles-perhour and his mum’s in the front next to his dad, trying to put up with Billy’s noise.

She’s just been gritting her teeth and putting up with it. She’s been putting up with it for about half an hour. Her teeth hurt and she’s had enough.

She must have figured that if she can open Billy’s window some of his noise will go out or some of the noise of outside will level it out or

24_TheLeedsDebacle

something. So she twists around in her seat and reaches through the gap between her seat and the inside of the car and reaches for the handle that you twist to lower the window. She grabs it and lowers the window while Billy watches, still screaming and louder now cos now wind’s getting in his face.

her seat and the driver’s seat and whips a clout round Billy’s head.

This makes Billy shut up. But not cos he’s hurt or cos he’s got the message, it’s because he’s pissed off and he’s gonna hit her back and he knows if he keeps screaming she’s not gonna turn back round and he needs her to turn back round so he can hit her.

As soon as she’s turned round Billy’s winding the window back up, still screaming and now he’s started kicking the back of Mrs. Jackson’s chair.

So he shuts up.

He gets the window shut.

Mrs. Jackson breathes out slowly.

Out of her nose. Her lips are shut tight, her hand’s on her forehead.

She turns around again the same way as before so she can reach the handle. When she gets a hold of it Billy starts scratching at her hand and then when she doesn’t let go he leans forward and bites her on that big knuckle, the second one, that one between the index finger knuckle and the ring finger knuckle. He bites down on that so hard that when she screams and pulls her hand away it almost rips his front teeth out.

She unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches through the gap between

And Mrs. Jackson turns back around.

But before she can put her seatbelt in that little catch box thing, he’s reached forward and has slapped her on the head with an open hand. And his finger, the one between the index finger and the ring finger, hits her right in the eye.

Now, the whole drive Mrs. Jackson’s been keeping a handbag down by her feet. She leans down and grabs it and puts it on her lap so she can rifle through it. A compact mirror falls out, then a lipstick, a few Kleenex. She tosses the bag back down and clicks open the glove compartment. There’s a tonne of wrappers in there; mint imperials, Werthers, Chewits.

They’re all piled up on top of an A to Z. And there’s a little torch and a wrench.

She grabs the wrench and then shuts the glove compartment.

Then she winds down her window.

Jackson’s dropped the wrench into the road and is reaching in through the open window to grab him.

I don’t know if there’s one on every car but in this one there’s a sort of handle thing up between the top of the window and the roof. It’s there so you can hang your suit jacket from a hanger while you drive so that it doesn’t get creased. Well, she holds onto that and leans out of the window as far as she can. Eventually she’s got her feet on the seat, she’s more outside the car than in it.

And she’s reaching over to Billy’s window with the little wrench.

He can’t find the little catch box for the seatbelt so instead he wriggles and manoeuvres his way out of it. He tries to scramble to the other side of the car but she manages to grab the back of his t-shirt at the neck. She twists it round her fist and the front digs in under Billy’s Adam’s apple and makes him cough and then she’s dragging him back towards her.

Then she tries to lift him up but a five year old is heavier than you’d think so she decides to just drag him. He’s kicking his legs and flailing his arms around but that’s not doing anything. And he’s still screaming but it’s a higher pitch now because his throat is all tight because of the shirt collar choking him.

She swings it and it hits the window perfectly - the whole pane of glass shatters inward like that’s what it was made to do.

Billy’s trying to protect himself from the hundreds of little bits of glass while at the same time trying to unbuckle his seat belt so he can move away, because Mrs.

His back is up against the broken glass that’s still in the rubber seal

of the window and he turns round but this just makes it easier for Mrs. Jackson to drag him further out until he’s out so much that if she lets go of him he’ll drop face-first onto the motorway. He’s slapping Mrs. Jackson in the face but she doesn’t care. She’s got one hand on that handle inside the car and the other wrapped up in Billy’s t-shirt. The white lines in the road are like strobe lights.

Billy’s still screaming.

Then Mrs. Jackson lets go.

Billy hits the road face first, rolls a couple times and then stops on his hands and knees in the middle of the empty motorway. By the time Billy has cleared his head and can see properly, the car is gone. In an hour it will be a whole sixty miles away.

/ NEIL BALMFORTH

I

Trash On The Terraces

n the wake of the Hillsborough findings and recent muchpublicised inappropriate chanting, I wanted to look at the relationships between supporters of different clubs and how they can or cannot change over a period of time. As a real football supporter, the subject I’m going to talk about will always leave me with a lump in my throat and a heavy heart.

May 29th 1985, Brussels was anticipating European footballs greatest showpiece, the mouth-watering tie between two footballing giants; Italian Champions Juventus were about to take on their English counterparts Liverpool in a match that would determine who was the best in Europe. But no-one could envisage what was about to happen.

39 supporters were killed and approximately 400 seriously injured during wild riots prior to kick off. Millions of shocked TV viewers could not believe what they were witnessing. Liverpool supporters reacted to taunts from Juventus fans, broke down a fence and proceeded with a violent attack. The Italians tried to retreat and many were crushed against a brick wall that collapsed on top of them as the situation turned from terrace banter to a bloody battlefield. The circumstances under which this dreadful event occurred reveal a far more complex set of causes, and an insight into terrace culture at the height of the football hooligan phenomenon.

It can be argued that the violence caused at Heysel was a response in fear of a repeat of what happened in Rome a year previously.

Liverpool grabbed the headlines by winning the game on penalties after a tightly fought affair. But what surprisingly didn’t receive much coverage was the gangs of hooded A.S. Roma supporters 26_TheLeedsDebacle

hunting down Liverpool fans on scooters. Dozens of stabbings and slashings occurred, some victims were families returning to nearby hotels.

By the mid-eighties, terrace culture was at its peak. Despite this, Liverpool supporters had no real reputation for violence.

However, due to the events in Rome, it became clear that Liverpool supporters would make their presence felt when facing Italian opposition. Even the most placid terrace fan knew that there was going to be unfinished business to attend to.

Ironically, this was due to be the last game ever played at Heysel as it had been condemned many years previously for failing to meet modern standards of safety and design. Large parts of the stadium were crumbling and little segregation of supporters which beggars the question why UEFA would choose such a venue to host such a high profile game. There had been skirmishes around Brussels all day, and local police responded by getting fans into the stadium as quickly as possible, rather than arresting and detaining offenders.

Once supporters were in the stadium, violence started almost immediately. Italian fascists, who were present among the Juventus contingent, goaded supporters into making incursions into the main body of the Liverpool support. Bursts of terrace fighting started. Then Liverpool fans charged into the mass of Juventus support which was penned in from three sides by crumbling concrete walls.

Panic set in among the Italians, some of whom were now starting to be crushed at the rear of the terrace. At this moment, with police and stewards too stunned to react, a wall gave way.

Juventus supporters were now trapped against what remained

of the wall, and were trampled underfoot as thousands of people stampeded over them. This was when the majority of the deaths occurred. All over the stadium violence erupted. In desperation, several Liverpool players pleaded for calm across the public address system. Eventually, with the arrival of police reinforcements and elements of the Belgian army, enough order was restored for the match to take place. Neither set of players wanted to play. In one of the most meaningless matches ever played, Juventus won 1-0.

As a result, The British Embassy in Italy was attacked for days after.

Back in Liverpool, flowers and wreaths were placed on doorsteps of Italian restaurants and other establishments throughout the city. To this day, supporters from both sides, and football fans in general, are unable to come to terms with what happened.

It was a black day for football, highlighting the shocking behaviour of English supporters all over the country and leaving the English game in tatters as teams were banned from all European competition.

It saddens me that it took something like this for football hooligans to realise what they were actually doing. After this shocking day, even the most hardened hooligan had seen enough. Football hooliganism and terrace culture, thankfully, is almost non-existent now and we must acknowledge how much behaviour has improved.

Footballing governing bodies and us, the supporters, must take credit for this. But it took Heysel for there to be a change in how we behave and respect one another at football matches. Now we have reverted to sick and disrespectful chanting. Some things may never change but I hope some rivalries are not beyond repair.

trashontheterraces.blogspot.co.uk

Old Codgers Commentary B

y the early 70’s I had given up running around in a blue uniform and had taken up the wandering lifestyle of the industrial, if not international, Salesman. With the job went extensive travel throughout the United Kingdom, a good quality company car and a fairly open and extensive expense account.

The job entailed the usual round of good hotels, excellent meals, country clubs, golf courses and women of a certain age.

This kind of work has many advantages and being absent from home four to five nights a week meant you were far enough away from screaming kids and earned enough money to keep the later to become ex-wife in the comfort she had become accustomed.

The greater advantage was that the bar of a good hotel is always stocked with fabulously flirtatious women who, for a few kind words and a level of gentle persuasion,

were happy to leave soft traces of their perfume in your bed sheets. Of course, the last thing you were looking for was a steady relationship and the last thing you wanted was any long-term consequences.

And so the salesman’s favourite; The Two Card Trick: Salesmen habitually exchange business cards and it was my habit to collect a few for distribution at the appropriate moment. Having familiarised myself with the name on the card, and accepting that I would have to be called Dennis or Keith through the whole evening, I would engage the prospect for seduction and present the collected card to that nights beauty so she could contact me the following day through my office.

IAN GANT \

From Aberdeen to Aberystwyth the cards went out and I have often reflected on the phone calls that were received by the unsuspecting and innocent Dennis and Keith’s of this world. Too late to apologise to them and, on reflection, I don’t want to. Some will still be held in great affection, with the card taken from some private place to remind of secret hours that brought pleasure and excitement to an otherwise dull existence.

Perhaps I should apologise to any poor bugger who, unsuspecting for twenty years, went on feeding the result of Keith’s one-night-stand.

However; while his faithless wife is able to smile benignly across the breakfast table, smooth her apron and think fondly of some pristine five star bedroom, I am content that in the name of Keith or Dennis I was able to do some good.

A SIXTIES ADOLESCENCE / IAN GANT Just fourteen and not yet shaving, Awkward at the youth club dance, Older girls in floral dresses, Knowing that I had no chance.

Harder grind at daytime lessons, Can’t do French its such a bore, English homework that’s a pleasure, Simple signs of what’s in store.

Khrushchev settled in the Kremlin, Shadows of the mushroom cloud, Batten down the A-Bomb shelter, Play the music long and loud.

On to college wine and cider, Campus pleasures through the night, Flirting at a student demo, Posers for the greater fight.

Certain now I’d missed the call up, National Service not for me, Plan for life and not for dying, Live for now not history.

Buy a Norton motorcycle, Featherbedded in its frame, BSA’s no competition, AJS are much the same.

Freedom of the open highway, Pocket money takes you far, Feel the speed that sets blood coursing, Burn the road and touch the star.

First real love, a wayward pleasure, Lustful longings quite sublime, Days to dream and endless evenings, Days of wonder, endless time.

Twenty now and quite immortal, Twenty now both sure and proud, Jet black hair and six foot something,

Don’t I stand out from the crowd?

Evenings in the city nightclubs, Waiting for the slower dance, Lovely girls in short tight dressers, Knowing I have every chance.

Weekday mornings in the office, Starting on the corporate climb, Bite your lip and mind the bosses, Watching clocks and wasting time.

Sell at last the motorcycle, Buy a car with room for two, Better be a man in manhood, That’s the proper thing to do.

So that was my adolescence, Wild and witty, fast and free, Taught me all that is my being, Told in all what life should be.

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/ NICOLA STEWART

Homoeopathy A

s I type, my twitter feed is full of mocking for Jeremy Hunt, the newly appointed Health Secretary, for his belief in homoeopathy. I have read the comments with interest, as I too use and believe in homoeopathy as a route to good health, and I have being surprised at how much scorn it has generated.

As much in fact as his views on abortion, which are surely more controversial and more emotive?

But homoeopathy is creating a mini frenzy, with one blogger on The Telegraph website writing a scathing article on it, describing it as being ‘magic water…for middleclass hypochondriac hippies’. But it is in fact the second most used system of medicine in the world.

Many celebrities have reportedly used homoeopathy, including Jennifer Aniston, David Beckham and Paul McCartney, and even the British Monarchy have reportedly used it since 1835.

I had been planning to write this article for a while, just out of personal interest, but now feel it is even more relevant and important to put another view out there, not in support of Jeremy Hunt, or of it being available on the NHS, but to give balance. I use traditional medicine, I visit my GP, I am neither middle class nor some tree-hugging hippy (I work in the fashion industry and trust me, they don’t allow hippies in), but I am open-minded and I have had great success with homoeopathy.

I am not here to change anyone’s mind, but why not share the positive stories too, and then it is up to you to make your decision.

I first tried homoeopathy over 10

28_TheLeedsDebacle

years ago, on a recommendation from a friend. I had been suffering from chronic tonsillitis for many years and wanted something gentle but effective to finally rid me of the misery it was causing.

After visiting Leeds-based homeopath Sharon McMahon and taking my remedy, I didn’t suffer with tonsillitis again until this February, and I truly believe it was homoeopathy that caused this dramatic improvement. I am currently in the middle of another remedy, and again I chose Sharon because of the great experience that I had with her previously.

Sharon’s own interest in homoeopathy developed in a similar way to mine, when she was suffering from a chronic condition, for her it was sinusitis.

After trips to GPs, specialists, and undergoing numerous procedures and antibiotic treatments, she was still suffering, and was told nothing more could be done. She went looking for other options, tried homoeopathy, and was amazed by the results. Not only did her sinuses begin to recover, but she felt much better overall.

This was because homoeopathy treats you as a whole person, not just your specific illness.

Prompted by this, Sharon trained for four years to become a qualified homoeopath and has now been practising homoeopathy for 15 years, as well as teaching at a homeopathic college.

As I have both times been to see Sharon about the same problem, I asked her what else can be used for. The list is pretty much endless as it can generally be used to homoeopathy treat any

physical or emotional condition that you would see your Doctor about.

Asthma, migraines, depression, eczema, sciatica, child behavioural problems and rheumatism are just a few examples of the wide range of conditions that can be treated.

Homoeopathy is completely safe with no harmful side effects and it is partly for these reasons that I tried it in the first place.

If there is a chance it is going to make you feel better, and there is no risk involved, I believe it is worth trying. Because of its gentleness anyone can be treated homoeopathically, including babies, children, pregnant women and the elderly. It can also be used alongside prescribed medication, but Sharon advised to not stop or alter the dosage you are taking without consulting your GP first, and that your homeopath should ask what medication you are on.

So, what you can expect when you visit a homoeopath? Well the setting will depend on the homeopath. Some may be in a complementary medical centre, whilst others may take appointments in their home and will even make home visits. The initial visit I found unexpectedly enjoyable, and nothing at all like visiting a GP, which can be a rushed and unsympathetic experience.

When visiting Sharon there was no judgement, no embarrassment, and just having the time to talk to someone and for them to listen can be therapeutic. The first consultation will probably take over an hour so the homeopath will have plenty of time to gather information about the problem and the specific symptoms, not

just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. Because homoeopathy treats ‘you’ as a person, and not just the symptoms of the ‘illness’ the homeopath will need to have a complete overview of you as an individual. This may mean asking questions which at first seem to have little to do with your illness, such as your likes and dislikes and your personality traits. This can be quite surprising for some people, maybe even offputting, but it is all an important part of the homeopath putting together a full picture and will ensure a more accurate and higher quality treatment.

There are over 3000 remedies available in homoeopathy, which gives you an idea of how specific that remedy will be to you, and so the more information your homeopath has the easier it will be for them to pick the right one first time. Just like in a GP

visit, your family health history and your own health history will also be taken into account.

The treatment itself will be a homoeopathic remedy in the form of either liquid or a tablet, which will be given to you with full instructions. The remedy is easy to take and totally tasteless, so nothing unpleasant awaits!

The second visit, a month later to monitor your progress, will be shorter, and the homeopath will be looking for any changes and improvements in your condition.

I am currently mid-remedy, and haven’t yet seen the full effects of this one, but there is no doubt in my mind that homoeopathy works. No matter what others say, or how much they may mock, whether on Twitter, The Telegraph or elsewhere, I have seen it before for myself. And when you are in pain and discomfort it is understandable that you would

look for relief from this, and I don’t understand how that can be ridiculed. You may still feel homoeopathy isn’t for you, you may even feel cynical, but when Sharon’s aim as a practitioner is to help “bring you relief and support and to help you regenerate the energy and vitality which you rightly deserve”, using a gentle and safe method, I personally think it is worth staying openminded. But whatever your thoughts, I know it works for me, so I will happily continue to take my “magic water”, and enjoy its very positive effects.

Sharon McMahon is offering 15% discount to Debacle readers throughout October. sharon. mcmahon23@gmail.com 07784 870 584 www.elhom23.wordpress. com

Sara Teresa art & portrait photographer Available for commissions.

Specialising in portrait, music and lifestyle photography. sarateresa.com @sarateresaphoto

MERCHANT WANKERS / JAMES GOLLEDGE Who the hell do they think they are?

Driving around in their big flash cars Wearing their suits Going on vacation The last thing I remember is them raping our nation Losing our money, destroying our jobs The only unaffected are these corporate yobs.

WILFULLY BLIND / LAURA TAYLOR Ruthless immorality submits to the committee Disregarding privacy; the favour is returned Withered purple fists punctuating party lines; pounding out the lie of I Was Not Aware

​

No more charmless man than he; dripping insincerity, spewing out his outrage with nauseating guile ‘For Neville’ never happened in this distorted vision, but the noose of Leveson tightens on his throat Contempt for parliament; apologies must roll?

Not good enough or tough enough for breaking Milly’s family, or hacking private lives for accumulating wealth just to sell a paper full of fraudulent hypocrisy And he’s sorry he Was Not Aware And he’s sorry he’s Wilfully Blind And he’s sorry to Highlight Home Truths And he’s Proud to be Putting Things Right So why is he still in control?

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/ GLEN PINDER

Bingley Music Live Friday

D

ecked out in festival de rigueur of wellies and sunglasses, shorts and big coats, we gather again for what is becoming a perfect way to end festival season; Bingley… I know, yeah!

Who’d have thought it?

It’s always got a happy laid back family vibe, easy to chill out and

enjoy the great surroundings, even in today’s constant downpour. Two stages have been added, making it feel more festival like, and this is where I start, the Raise The Roof Stage and Spirit of John, a good time lively country folk band from Halifax, fully acoustic and can rock as hard as anyone, with a punk/skiffle combination

that gets the kids dancing in their yellow ponchos.

Over on the main stage, new band Driving Lolita entertain the early evening crowd with their dancerock hybrid, throwing rock star shapes with impressive guitar work and vocals. Making way for up and coming pop act Stooshe, plying their pop shimmer to a damp yet enthusiastic crowd. Back on the smaller stage Sadie and the Hotheads (yes, A-list Hollywood actress and star of Downton Abbey Elizabeth McGovern) add a little class to proceedings with a country-lite blues cocktail that brings the couples in the crowd closer, wrapped in a warm fuzzy feeling whilst standing in the drizzle.

Talking of class, welcome to the stage Mrs Martha Reeves and the Vandellas! The Motown legends look sharp and bring some old soul revue glamour, letting loose with hit after hit; Heatwave and Jimmy Mack have the crowd dancing from front to back, despite some clown throwing god knows what towards the stage. Martha just tries batting back the objects with her tambourine and carries on with a rousing Dancing in the Streets; true style indeed.

Headliners The Charlatans have twenty plus years to pick through, though mainly stick to the midnineties classics, leaning heavily on Tellin’ Stories. North Country Boy and How High lift the roof! The Only One I know and Weirdo bring flashbacks and freaky dancing, with a storming, if clumsy, set closer Sproston Green bringing the opening day to a euphoric close.

Saturday

S

ummer arrives for Saturday, a beautiful day indeed, though I come dressed for the great deluge. Typical.

The day for me starts with The Jim James Revue. This band ARE Rock n Roll, a beast that stalk and devour the stage, opening with new song Where’s All The Money Gone, a hard riffing letter of contempt to our shining beacons of power and greed. This true embodiment of all that is sacred in music get the early afternoon crowd going, before closing with the hard as nails boogie that is High Horse. After that I need a sit down and a drink.

Sunday

For the next few hours, I stroll the Myrtle Park site, soaking up the sun, pint in hand. I am impressed by an acoustic soul singer with a soft sweet vocal yet powerful delivery, Karima Francis, seeming a little shy in front of a growing crowd gathering for young solo sensation Jake Bugg. Packed with the excited and the curious, his sixties merseybeat inspired sound fits the cool early evening scene, songs like Lightning Bolt and Trouble Town show a real talent, Love Me The Way You Do has the young girls swooning and, here at least, the girls want to be with him and boys want to be like him.

King Charles is a big posh breath of fresh air, sharp suit and

dreadlocks, and a canny knack of writing some really good yet overlooked indie pop songs. Give him a chance and this one time scene setter and Mumford flat mate could charm the pants off you, though his pants will be far more fancy than yours.

I eventually stumble across Johnny Borrell and his Razorlight 3.0, a rag tag of session musicians I think, yet don’t really care, and neither do the rest of the crowd it seems as the site empties very quickly, and the only sound bringing them back is the crashing booming sound of the best and trippiest fireworks, signalling the end of another great day.

Sorry for a second Razorlight photo, but I feel it’s important to laugh at this plonker

A

rriving late to site after experiencing ‘Friends of Ham’ in Leeds and their fine Espresso Stout, I stand and watch Katzenjammer on the main stage, and what an experience it is! A strange mix of pop, jazz, folk and massive triangular guitars, they turn out to be one of the most talked about bands of the weekend, playing another gig later on to spread their Nordic sound to the masses.

Next up are Ellen and the Escapades, who steal my heart with their alt-country folk pop shimmer. Water tight harmonies and classic song writing on Coming Back Home, Run and This Ace I’ve Burned (also the album title, go buy it kids!) have the gathered crowd swooning and smiling in the mid day sun.

Maverick Sabre turns out to be a happy surprise, maybe it’s

the sunshine, maybe I’ve been drinking for too long, I don’t know, all I can say is that he lifts what is already a great Sunday vibe. Recent chart hit Look What I’ve Done and new single I Need get young and old alike up and dancing. It seems Maverick Sabre will be bothering the charts for many years to come. Also, he looks like my brother in-law, which makes me chuckle.

White Lies, on the other hand, are a bit too gloomy for Sunday sessions in the sun, songs from the first album prick up the crowds ears but newer material leaves me cold and a little bored… more beer needed.

The Idiot Bastard Band next, Ade Edmondson, Phil Jupitus, Neil Innes and Rowland Rivron, a super group of sorts that do comedy songs about furniture and other such hard hitting subjects. They

joke but are assured musicians with a deft touch and great raconteurs of the stage, I catch half of their entertaining set as, rightly or wrongly, I want to check out main stage headliners NERO. The biog makes some great claims, name checking every dance act of the last twenty years and besting them, promising life enhancing euphoric hands aloft techno.

Sounds good, on paper. In actual fact (that fact being my opinion) the duo make a big noise but with no soul, the constant deep heavy bass lines more likely to induce mass diarrhoea than mass euphoria, although the kids down the front disagree, lapping it all up, having a fine old m-kat time and that’s just how it should be.

My rave days are behind me and so is this years Bingley Music Live. A great weekend getting bigger and better, see you next time.

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Something to do every day...

OCTOBER 1st - Eleanor McEvoy (Milo) 2nd - May It Keep The Wolves In The Hills‌ (Mexico) 3rd - Azealia Banks (Met) 4th - Andy McKee, Preston Reed & Jon Gomm (Varieties) 5th - Light Night (various) 6th - Wax:On (Canal Mills) 7th - Vintage Fair (Town Hall) 8th - Spice Yorkshire (Victoria) 9th - Fred Hersch (College of Music) 10th - Liars (Brudenell) 11th - NEWK (Stage) 12th - Les Barker (Grove) 13th - I Like Trains (City Museum) 14th - Nina Nesbitt (Wardrobe) 15th - Gallows (Cockpit) 16th - Scissor Sisters (Academy) 17th - The Hands That Make The Paper (Dock Street Market) 18th - Reverend & The Makers (Uni) 19th - Fashion Show (Town Hall) 20th - Oxjam (Shopkeepers) 21st - Mark Thomas (WYP) 22nd - Sean Hughes (Varieties) 23rd - Frankie Boyle (Town Hall) 24th - Open Door (Artlink) 25th - Bat For Lashes (Met) 26th - Ladyboys of Bangkok (Sabai Pavilion) 27th - The D.O.T. (Brudenell) 28th - Skalloween (Well) 29th - Alun Cochrane (Oak) 30th - Tim Key (Carriageworks) 31st - Slow Show (Oporto)

Jens shows the bird

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Hughes... but you knew that

NOVEMBER 1st - International Film Festival (various) 2nd - The Makropulos Case (Grand) 3rd - Damnation (Uni) 4th - Zine Fair (Wharf Chambers) 5th - remember remember (various) 6th - Dog Is Dead (Cockpit) 7th - Afterwords and Bottled Wasps (Carriageworks) 8th - Lucy Porter (Library) 9th - Jez Lowe (Grove) 10th - Constellations (Met) 11th - Oliver! (Grand) 12th - Bridget Christie (Oak) 13th - Project Hip Hop (WYP) 14th - Comedy Raw (Mr Bens) 15th - John Shuttleworth (Varieties) 16th - Pulled Apart By Horses (Met) 17th - Thought Bubble (Savilles Hall) 18th - Abbey Dash (Kirkstall) 19th - Paco Pena (Town Hall) 20th - The Revival Tour (Uni) 21st - The Staves (Wardrobe) 22nd - Lee Hurst (Stanley & Audrey Burton) 23rd - Contested Grounds (Art Gallery) 24th - Galaxians (Musiquarium) 25th - Pie Race (Well) 26th - Jens Lekman (Wardrobe) 27th - Leeds Utd v Leicester City (Elland Road) 28th - Moulettes (Oporto) 29th - Damned (Academy) 30th - The Fall (Brudenell)

Amy Millan of Stars - Jazz hands!

DECEMBER 1st - Sam Avery (HiFi) 2nd - Magical Christmas Tree Tour (All Hallows) 3rd - Stars (Cockpit) 4th - Squeeze (Academy) 5th - 1913: The Shape of Time (Henry Moore) 6th - Christkindelmarkt (Millennium Square) 7th - Sebastian Tellier (Cockpit) 8th - Affordable Vintage Fair (Corn Exchange) 9th - Leeds Carnegie v Pontypridd (Headingley) 10th - Gaslight Club (Holy Trinity) 11th - Christmas & Gift Fair (Light) 12th - Christmas Comedy Club (Mr Bens) 13th - Childline Candlelight Christmas Concert (Parish Church) 14th - Wind In The Willows (WYP) 15th - Neville Staple (Brudenell) 16th - Liberty & Anarchy (Art Gallery) 17th - Jack and the Beanstalk (Carriageworks) 18th - Sturtevant (Henry Moore) 19th - Santa Claus (Lotherton Hall) 20th - Legends (Savilles Hall) 21st - Sleeping Beauty (WYP) 22nd - Leeds Utd v Middlesbrough (Elland Road) 23rd - Nutcracker (Grand) 24th - Christmas Eve (mums) 25th - Christmas Day (in-laws) 26th - Boxing Day (pub) 27th - Rob Dylan Band (New Roscoe) 28th - One Man Two Guvnors (Grand) 29th - Helen Chadwick (Henry Moore) 30th - Viennese Whirl (Town Hall) 31st - NYE (party) TheLeedsDebacle_35

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Now available in blog flavour: http://theleedsdebacle.blogspot.co.uk

Issue 9 of The Leeds Debacle is: John Barran ~ Ross Newsome ~ Emily Hallewell ~ Glen Pinder ~ Gareth Jones Laura Taylor ~ Dan Clark ~ Neil Balmforth ~ Emily Ward ~ Ian Gant ~ Gabo Barreto James Golledge ~ Joseph Wood ~ Nicola Stewart ~ Tim Chapman

THANK YOU FOR READING THE DEBACLE TO CONTRIBUTE TO ISSUE 10 PLEASE CONTACT: THEDEBACLE@HOTMAIL.CO.UK COVER PHOTO: GABO BARRETO