TOSMAG 017

i’d leave my trade union for a copy of

the other side

Thursday 20 September

The magazine for the Northern Line!

Letter from the Editor.

Contents

It is national talk like a pirate day today and my colleague is sitting with an eye patch on. We are questioning whether or not we can answer the phone like a Pirate. I guess so, I guess

Letter(s)

that everybody knows that it’s national Pirate day today and the person on the other end of the phone will be requesting a bottle of rum and a place on my ship. (joke? Ok…What does a Pirate say when he has a heart attack? Aaaarrrgggh! Me heartie!)

Archaeopteryx

Brilliant. Anyway, Thanks for all the responses to the Save the Stables campaign, it’s great to see everybody getting behind

Teamphoto

it. We will keep you updated with any new news.

Meanwhile the kids are back to school and the new freshers are roaming our streets ready to offload their student loan. We are looking to follow the most flamboyant fresher for a few days

7 Stops

and see what sort of tricks they get up to. So if you are new to London’s universities and would like to have your antics followed please get in touch with us asap.

Off Side

This week there’s so much going on; take a look at 7 stops for a glimpse of what London has to offer. It’s London Fashion

City Breaks

Week so there are plenty of size zero’s waltzing about the place with a Fiji water in hand. Then on Sunday there is the London Freewheel where you can cycle your bike around many of London’s car-less streets. There is a 9 mile route and this is a

Wakey Wakey

day not to be missed. Make sure you sign up for the event!

Take care, enjoy your week and don’t get too upset with the early

Northern

winter onslaught!

ed.x

Nico

Printed on recycled paper by recycled people.

Please make sure you pass on or recycle, Yeah!

www.theothersidemag.co.uk

Handed out by Pretty Boys

Letter(s) Would you believe it!

DON’T CLOSE THE STABLES You know what never gets old – stalking Israeli boys. Camden’s the place for it.

There last week, I saw this kid rummaging through the amber rings in the horse hospital. He had ample jewellery already – but hippies are greedy for gems so his head was buried deep in the tray, searching with bright white eyes for the perfect piece. Dripping in semi-precious and silver he’d tied up his wrists with dirty old bits of string and his clothes were tissue-thin from wear. Not bothered about his apparel it was his feet I was looking at. What’s more delicious than an Israeli boy’s tanned feet? There they were, resting on flip-flops with bony brown ankles a spray of black hair up the calves. Oh come on boy, lets run off to the Kibbutz. You can trample on me with those brown feet in the milky dusk. We can lie under the apple tree and you whisper me stories of war and peace and the anti scholar of Kotzk. You can never introduce me to your Jewish mother and we can go renegade on the Kibbutz. Or, as it turns out, I can follow you around the stables whimpering and staring at your lovely feet. We can get a falafel that’s almost as good as in the motherland (or you can, I’ll just watch) If Camden stables folds then where will I see you, the Israeli boy’s feet?

Don’t close the stables.

Send your letters to editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

Want to be on the front Cover???

What would you do for a copy of the Other Side?

Get in touch. We are looking for the most innovitive ideas.

A few tips from Cardorowski.......

The first is in Borough Market, a bar called ‘The Rake’, cool beers and ciders but the crisps are VERY expensive! and then ‘Mer i Terra’ a Tapas place in Southwark not a million miles away on Gambia St SE1. Went there on saturday night and they almost lifted me from my phunque! Almost impossible....and make sure you check out Bellowhead at the Shepherds Bush Empire on 26th Sep...Also....Look out for Le Band Extrordinaire playing at Metro’s Oxford Street on Thursday 20th....www.myspace.com/lebandextraordinaire

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

Archaeopteryx Nephew Found Illustration by Jamie Jackson

M

y condolences to those struggling with the northeastern half of the Old Ink Line last Sunday. Beautiful day, and no way to get to the River Regatta. I only know ‘cause I was a waiting for my head to clear before heading home on the Earthen Line when I heard the news and thought of all you folks trying to get outta Highgate.

And while I was a waiting, an earth-shattering thought smacked me upside my head as we used to say. A veritable EUREKA! moment.

Struggling as I was with rampant stag head, I’s thrusting bread products and fruit juices through my IN hole in a desperate attempt to soak up residual ale before heading home, when I’s besieged by a flying rodent, nodding and bobbing around any dropped crumbs, hoping he’d bug me outta my place before the street sweeper happened along to eradicate all evidence of my haphazard munching. And that’s when it struck me.

These self-professed birds (for they do not really fly do they? Not proper migratory soaring) are really the prehistoric ancestors of rats! These are not merely rats with wings, they are surely the prehistoric antecedents of our eat-all, plague carrying friends, who have survived by guile,

stealth and our wasted, nay wasteful, pity. The sum total of their prehistoric intelligence is their ability to make tourists buy bags of corn off the Pikeys! Unlike the Squirrel who survives by a fierce intelligence allied to rampant greed or the Buzzard whose keen eye is married to a fierce hunger, the City Pidge is merely a ravenous and haggard scavenger without any semblance of taste.

You’ve seen ‘em, struggling in vain with a ciggie butt in the hope that it might be a breadcrumb, and even when they gotta know that it isn’t, they continue wrestling the filters long

after any nick o’teen traces have disappeared. Maybe I do them a disservice, perhaps they are merely the junky element of the scum subclass, but still you get the point. This ancient stupidity, this unevolved intelligence and rapacious greed is patently scientific evidence of a prehistoric past. It’s so obvious it passes us all by on a daily basis.

Whilst Mankind relentlessly hunts for proof of an evolutionary past in all manner of rural Idyll, mountainous Hell or deep sea Eden the Missing Link has been hiding right here in the midst of our very own Metropoli. For surely

there’s no city worthy of the name spared this blight of prehistoric scavenging? You can see it in those gnarled feet that resemble nothing so much as rhinoceros skin, the metronomic bobbing that indicates some link to primeval rhythms that hum through life unheard by all but those who know them from a time before ‘human noise’. At this point I detect a faintly bemused/amused disbelief, maybe a little smile that indicates this might be time well spent in the passage twixt bed and desk but surely not true, hard ‘scientific’ fact. Bear with me please. Any parent worth the name having spent bedtimes beside sleeping infants voraciously devouring tomes on subjects as diverse as Tank Engines/ Tubbies/ Mister Men and Women/ Behatted Cats will have spent hours in the realm of Prehistoria and the unending variety of Dinosnores. It cannot have passed your eager attention that those in the know are, as yet, undecided on the outward appearance of those stalkers of the Ancient Globe. Were they merely thick skinned?

Perchance hairier than the Mammoth? Armour-plated like our Rhino pal? No! One theory catches the eye more than most; were they, maybe be-feathered.

Like the ubiquitous City Pidge?

Ladies and Gents, I rest my case. The proof is in the pudding that I dropped

outside Embankment tube and now rests in the castiron gut of the Pidge that bobs outside the station of your disembarkation. Or maybe in the defecation that just landed on your over-burdened shoulder!

Good Luck??? Why should prehistoric shite dropped on your shoulder from on high be a token of good fortune? Think about it!

Our cave-ancestors mighta besmeared themselves with the excrement of the grey bird to ward off lesser evils, such as the mighty Pachycepha losau r us; painted their sunburnt faces with it to frighten the keen eyed Styracosaurus; carried it in bags to scare those Dinos of superior olfactory capabilities, perchance the nippy Velociraptor. Our lives are replete with such unquestioned residues of past lives, Ladies and Gents I leave you with another; The City Pidge.

And before I leave you let me just share a minor success against the unending Tide of Pidge.

Like children everywhere I am encumbered of that urge to chase down and tear open the callous, sneering overagile Rat-kin. Not long ago, sitting in the front of a people carrier in the wee small hours before the Lines had awoken, burning through Westbourne Park to catch a Train, we (the Driver and I) spied a weary and thickheaded Rat-kin unable to

walk the line, staggering off and on the zebra crossing, reelin’ and a rockin’ long after closing time. Before I could demand acceleration, the Driver had gunned his French motor with glee. The Prehistoric Brain, trapped in some narco/ alco/nick haze, veered desperately for the pavement, struggled for elevation, some late learned Vtol. TOO LATE! His engorged body slammed into the upper-bodywork! THUD! Fluttering in vain for safety he veered backwards and…

UP! The cries of victory that emanated from all passengers were left strangulated in our throats as the prehistoric jumping rat achieved flight and, thanks no doubt to some vestigial residue of rhino-armour or half-held instinct, spluttered away to bob, hobble and sneer at yet another point of congregation for the careless, confused or merely passing through.

My advice is Nets.

Big nets with tiny holes.

With the agility of African fishermen we might yet make inroads into the population of these prehistoric peckers.

Save ourselves the horror of the Dive bombing fraternity, the inquisition of that Beady eye and the frustration of not getting to grips with those who never seem to travel but are always one step ahead of our unseeing thick head.

by Cardorowski

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

The Channel Tunnel Rail Link: High Speed 1 It has taken nine years, thousands of people and millions of man-hours to build. It is delivering more than 109 kilometres of new high-speed railway, the world’s longest-span concrete highspeed rail bridge and 47 kilometres of cutting-edge tunnels, and, in St Pancras International, it has created a truly world-class station. It is the Channel Tunnel Rail Link, or High Speed 1 (HS1): the first major new railway in the UK for more than one hundred years and the first true, heart-racing high-speed line this country has ever seen. HS1 is slashing journey times from London to Paris and Brussels. It brings new levels of reliability to rail travel. And it will be the catalyst for more than 17,000 new homes and 94,000 jobs. HS1 is a thing of rugged beauty and real ingenuity, dreamed, planned and delivered by twenty-first-century pioneers, people who just maybe have shown the way for others to follow. This exhibition honours all the individuals who made it possible.

The Gymnasium 26 Pancras Road London NW1 2TB

Portraits of the people who built Britains first high-speed railway

by Brian Griffin Wednesday 19th September - Friday 16th November Mon - Fri 8.30am til 6.30pm and Saturday 10am - 1pm

go see this!! editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

Battle of the Bands

Adam Green

There’s a whole bunch of mayhem ready to be caused as the Barfly prepares itself for ‘the worlds biggest battle of the bands.’ There are 9 stages in all starting with registering your band right through to grand finals with the chance to win a $1m record deal! oooh! oh did I mention they are turning it into a reality tv show!!

Stage 6 - The Showdown takes place on 30th Sept @ the Barfly Tickets are £10

East Finchley

Archway

Highgate Brent Cross

Chalk Hampstead Farm

Golders Green

Belsize Park

Lo

Old Street

Kings Cross Camden Town

Euston

Mornington Crescent

Freshers Week

Cl Bo go Go Ea m fo

Tickets £15

Kentish Town

Tufnell Park

T

Tue Sep 25 Union Chapel, bind me, gag me take me to the bunnyranch. people dying kill me in the packing house. even you have to win sometimes dear. poison needle smoker, break a broken window mind you. one kiss, two kiss i can make it look like that. do me dolly, rape me in the parking lot. even you have to win sometimes dear. poison needle smoker, break a broken window mind you. bind me, gag me take me to the bunnyranch. bind me gag me take me to the bunnyranch.

If that's not enough to make you want to see Adam Green then you're helpless.

There are thousands of new faces floating around London as the students are taking over our bars and clubs. Freshers week is a chance for people to talk to anybody and not feel a fool.

If you are not a student and you go along to these balls then tut tut. The best of them this week are UCL at KOKO on Sat 22nd (£10) and The University of Art’s show putting on DJ Yoda at the Ministry of Sound on Thurs 27th (£20). expect cheap drinks and lots and lots of frolicking!

Angel Warren Street

Moorgate Tottenham Court Road Goodge Street

Leices

The First Em

China's Terrac

British Museum An exhibition showing China. My first inclinat them there, something on the fragile side. App the answer. There are Shihuangdi, the First E which include a dozen figures. twelve quid.

The best things going on in and around the Northern line both sides of the River

7 Stops

The Great Gorilla Run – Sat Sep 22

lose enough to London Bridge for you to go to orough Market for lunch afterwards. There are oing to be hundreds of people dressed as orillas running around on Saturday Morning. ach one representing the worlds last remaining mountain gorillas and each having raised £500 or the cause. Reckon it’ll be worth a look.

ondon Underwriting centre EC3R

Bill Bailey, Bill Bailey, Bill Bailey.

Not only is there a campaign for Bilbo to enter this years Eurovision, he is also performing 8 pre arena dates before this years big tour. If you haven’t seen him in action then you must. Check out Black Books, Spaced or Never Mind the Buzzcocks to see comedy genius at work.

Riverside Studios - Hammersmith £20 Sat 22nd Sep onwards...

Borough

Bank

e

Bill Bailey

Elephant

London Bridge

Charing Cross

ster Square

Waterloo

Kennington

Stockwell Oval

Clapham Common Clapham North

Embankment

mperor:

cotta Army

really bloody old statues from tion was to ask how they got g that old is gonna be a little bit parently lots of bubble wrap is objects from the tomb of Qin Emperor of the Qin Dynasty , n complete terracotta warrior

Ricky Gervais Hammersmith Appollo.

Can't get tickets – download one of his many podcasts and listen, it's a damn site cheaper and probably just as funny. Although if you've got a ticket – get ready for some knee slapping, eye watering, stomach toning laughter.

Tickets £15 - £40 change @ embankment for district line

If you would like to advertise your event in 7 stops then please contact us at editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

The Other Side’s Off Side The top shelf magazine of football journalism – it’s not illegal, but you wouldn’t want anyone to catch you reading it England Heskpects Mutt’s nuts one minute and dog’s dinner the next, the job of the England manager is a difficult one. Steve McClaren is walking tall at the moment (does he wear heels?), after an injury list longer than Peter Crouch’s inside leg led him to the accidental discovery of what looks like his most effective XI for some time. Yes, cometh the hour, cometh Gareth and Emile, riding in from the international wilderness over the broken bodies of Lampard and Rooney to clean up the mess of England’s qualification.

x

Les Blues find out what the Tartan Army hides under their kilts The English built Hadrian’s wall to keep the Scots out, but in midweek Alex McLeish’s team erected (shut up Beavis) a wall of their own at the Stade de France to keep out the French. Raymond Domanech is in a whole heap of merde after James McFadden did what comes naturally and helped Scotland to arguably their most significant result in recent times. We’re not entirely sure who was more pleased with the result though – the Tartan Army or the Parisian publicans…

19 and counting…

Two games, 6 goals and 6 points later and An unknown Britney-a-like called Christina all is happy (for now) in the land of the 3 was at number one with “Genie in a Bottle”, lions. Tal Ben Haim, perhaps fresh from Australia had just won the Rugby World the Police gig, promised that Israel would Cup and Gary Glitter was about to be found “defend with every breath in our body”, but guilty of being a very, very naughty boy.

England huffed, puffed and blew the Israeli The year was 1999, and it was the last time house down with relative ease. Next up were that Spurs beat Arsenal. Unfortunately for Russia, and despite the Martin Jol and the white and a must have promise of a hefty dose blue half of North London, their accessory for of Roman’s roubles the neighbours maintained the Indian any England boys from the East failed sign over them with a 3-1 victory international and at White Hart Lane. Both sides to remember the golden his WAG). rule when playing against seemed determined to win the England – mark Michael Ade Akinbiyi memorial Miss of the Owen.

Season award, but in the end it was Arsenal who were just slightly less profligate. Pascal Best of all for our Macca, any potentially Chimbonda didn’t seem to have his mind tricky decisions he might have faced when on the job - perhaps he was worrying about picking his next team have been neatly whether he’d left anything in the laundry… sidestepped, Heskey succumbing to peer The Fantasy League is looking pressure and picking up a metatarsal injury peachy if your name is Ed Herman just like all his other England buddies (a must and your team consists of Queens have accessory for any England international and Eights...not so peachy if you are and his WAG).

Towa Tomura and 187 points behind

Top 5 footballing criminals Football and the law are not exactly strange bedfellows and recent allegations of corruption amongst the game’s elite have cast a little bit of a shadow over the game. Never ones for feeling sorry for ourselves however, here’s the Other Side’s Off Side attempt to lighten the mood with our top 5 footballing criminals… book ‘em, Danno.

5. Tony Adams Big Tone was four times over the limit when he crashed his car into a wall in 1990 after a barbecue. His Arsenal team mates thought he was joking when he arrived late for training…until he shook his head and all the glass fell out of his hair!

4. Jonathan Woodgate Playing for Leeds at the time, Woodgate was sentenced to 100 hours community service after being found guilty of affray - which, if you’re wondering, is “Intentionally using or threatening unlawful violence such as would cause a reasonable person to fear for his safety”. The reasonable person he caused to fear for his safety was a student outside a nightclub, who suffered a broken leg, nose and cheekbone and was also bitten on the face (presumably, Woodgate was a bit hungry that evening). Lee Bowyer was acquitted of all charges – perhaps he should have taught Woodgate how to defend.

3. Gary Charles Like Tony Adams, Charles was a serious alcoholic. He was first sent down for drunk driving, but after his release he fancied a bit of a holiday and so cut off his electronic tag to go to the Costa del Sol! He was later arrested

and convicted for assaulting a woman and allegedly, how can we put this, “having a small accident in his underpants” in a taxi office. Yes, apparently he shat his pants. Between trials, Charles even managed to get a sentence for turning up to court drunk!

2. Faustino Asprilla OK so he wasn’t actually a criminal but you’ve got to love him! Tino Asprilla (aka “2 gun Tino”) registered himself as a construction worker to get an Italian visa, then later arrived at Newcastle United with a reputation as a gun-toting maniac who liked the occasional dalliance with “adult actresses”.

Barely months into his stint at the Magpies, he destroyed his own house with a slightly over-exuberant party. Not content with this, he lent money to a Colombian acquaintance who used it to buy cocaine, before leaving Newcastle after a heavy night on the Toon Newcastle culminated in him assaulting a diner in a restaurant. “It was real Wild West stuff,” said an eyewitness at the time.

They don’t make ‘em like they used to.

1. Peter Storey The ultimate footballing petty criminal? In the past Storey was fined for running a brothel, and later served time in prison for a variety of crimes including being involved in a coin counterfeiting ring, car theft, and illegally importing pornographic videos! His Wikipedia entry says that he is “now a reformed man”. Shame. ed herman

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

City Breaks...or just an excuse to get away

Amsterdam, The Police and Fiction Plane Last week the Other Side went on a little excursion to Amsterdam. The first of our bi-monthly city reviews. We squeezed in two gigs, a boat trip, lots of pancakes and some other bits and pieces.

It’s Friday night in Amsterdam and we are somewhere that not even the NME could make it to.

Being backstage at the Police Show was like being in the middle of a stealth computer game.

We had to work our way past security guard after security guard, flashing passes, tickets and anything else we thought might help along the way. Finally inside we made our way to Fiction Plane’s hub and began cleaning out their rider. Five minutes before the show we were escorted out to front centre of the Amsterdam Arena, ready and waiting. The Police waltz on with Bob Marley blaring out of the speakers at the 50,000 strong crowd who have been patiently waiting in anticipation. There’s a moments absolute silence before Andy Summers screeches into Message in a Bottle and lights up everybody’s faces, blowing away Dutchman after Dutchman as they belt their way through the classics, the highpoint being ‘ Every little thing she does is magic’. The concert was over in a flash and we were left bouncing along to the regatta de blanc all the way back to Amsterdam Centraal Station.

FICTIONPLANE

Opening for the Police were , a band I have seen progress from playing in front of six people at the Barfly to the 40,000 or so who were there early enough to see them open the show. The Amsterdam Arena was a far cry from North London’s dingiest venues but the band held themselves together and warmed up the expectant crowd with style. But it is not their performance here that stood out, the following day we were granted special access to their show at the Milkyway club in the City, (for you Northern Liners it’s Amsterdam’s equivalent of the Astoria). They literally blew the house down.

Fiction Plane provided the 1500 people who had crammed themselves into the room with a show that every single one of them will remember for a long time to come. Playing songs from their new album Left Side of the Brain and a number of tracks from albums past including the epic and the lyrically infusing ; singer Joe Sumner had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand and there was an honest joy erupting from all three members throughout the show culminating in Sumner cycling off stage on his hired bicycle. They say the proof is in the pudding (I don’t know if they say that in music reviews, for I am not a music reviewer) but I believe the pudding came in the double encore and the selling out of all of the T-shirts.

Cigarette

Hate

And the City...I think that people may go to Amsterdam for the wrong reason. The lure of being able to smoke a joint in a coffee shop is high on people’s agendas but these people miss out on the real beauty of the city. A five minute walk away from the centre in either direction alongside any of the sub canals will take you to a picturesque part of town, where a beer or a glass of wine will cost you two Euros. You can sit and watch boats pass by for hours, enjoy the magic of the tall eloquently designed houses and find some really great shops. If you are feeling energetic the best way around town is on a bike, you can hire them for about 10 Euros per day and you can literally cycle everywhere – it’s all flat. Try if possible to stay away from the Leicester Square areas. The food is bad, at times terrible and the drinks are expensive. I encountered one of the rudest waitresses I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering. The problem is that Amsterdam

IF THERE IS ANY PLACE YOU THINK WE SHOULD BE PLEASE EMAIL US AT editor@theothersidemag.co.uk NEXT TIME London Fashion Week...Slightly exposed keep writing us your views, they make our day!

Business or pleasure she said....I’m here to see the Police!

is overpopulated with men on stag do’s…wait, the world is overpopulated with stag and hen nights. They are the most unattractive thing, during a drink nearby the red-light district one husband to be asked his group if he could have blow job! Resisting butting in and being thrashed by a bunch of English blokes in Burberry I watched as he jovially walked into the brothel. We left and wandered along the canal, five minutes down the road.

Meanwhile we managed to find the retro market, it’s near the Opera House and well worth a visit.

is this Amsterdam’s finest Coffee Shop?

Oh and if you’re in Amsterdam for the naughty stuff then all I can say is stay out of the Bulldog, again a horrible, touristy hell-pit. Go searching for some quaint places and follow it up with a trip on the pedalo; I guarantee you’ll have a fantastic time.

Listen to Fiction Plane at myspace.com/fictionplane

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

Wakey Wakey!

by hudster

Dear citizens of London, the rather important news that we have passed ‘peak oil’ seems to have been glossed over by our lovely media, who are naturally more obsessed with Amy Winehouse and X Factor.

What is ‘peak oil’? Peak oil is the point of maximum oil production from our planet. The fact we’ve passed this point, coupled with the ever increasing usage of the dirty black stuff, means that the oil supply is in rapid decline.

Oil prices are set to rocket, and usage will become ever more limited.

nothing positive to address this situation, apart from going to war that is. Of course, the latest relaxation of planning law that has recently gone through parliament is touted as a triumph for common sense and less red-tape. The reality is that it means nuclear power stations, along with many other things, will be subjected to far less planning constraints, and far easier to build. This reveals our government’s longterm strategy for energy supply. However, what they don’t seem to have factored in, is the fact that suitable uranium supplies are also extremely limited. In fact much of the radioactive material currently used by nuclear power stations comes from de-commissioned nuclear warheads.

What does this mean for us? It means that the days of the car – that friendly little egotransportation device – and the days of insane consumer practices, such as freighting in by air half the food we eat from the far flung corners of the globe - are numbered. For environmentalists, this must be seen as a godsend. For lovers of consumer luxury, it might be a bit of a pain.

It appears that, at last, we are going to have to be realistic about our planet’s resources, and how we use energy. I predict that within our lifetimes, if not in the next few years, we will all have to learn to use public transport, go on holiday down to Margate, as opposed to the Maldives, forego the more exotic delights in the supermarkets and basically get on our bikes and ride.

It puts the motivations for various current vicious conflicts into context. The developed and the developing world is badly oil-addicted, and our glorious leaders have done little or

As far as I’m concerned, this is a good thing.

I hope you agree. Right, now I’m off to book that last minute flight to the Bahamas. Happy rush hour!

Trafalgar Square. th Sep

Chemical Brothers/ Calvin Harris 9 What a great place for a gig – they should hold one here every night, underneath Nelson’s shadow with fountains on each side.

Chemical Brothers was an epic with support from Calvin Harris. Not too crowded so even the stumpy fans could see 3D horses and technical wonderment on stage. The brothers opened with Galvanised and finished with Block Rockin’ Beats, playing a chunk of We Are The Night in between. Oh how the crowd danced – and refreshingly there was

enough room for it. You could have swung a kitten in there if you did it carefully to RSPCA regulations. Heavily policed by a convoy of scary Scottish security guards it was still possible to go for a swift doggy-paddle in the fountain at the end – might get dragged out by a massive ginger in galoshes but worth it for the crack. More of Trafalgar Square, more of the Calvin Harris and more of free C.B gigs, yes please.

by Isla harvey

Northern at the Festival Hall

Let me start off this article by saying “O my stars!” There are not enough exclaimation marks in this keyboard I’m poking to express the heart-aching, breathtaking performance this ϋber-legend gives.

I’d taken the feminoid out for the evening (courtesy of her mental health allowance, of course), with a three-course meal (Boots ‘Meal-deal’) and a show (for once I wouldn’t just be showing her a Rawshack test and hearing her say “It’s my soul eating itself!”).

Anyway, I thought what better way to say farewell to the summer we almost had than seeing the summeriest man alive, the one Sir Lord King Brian Wilson. And what’s this…. he’s brought along a really quite outstanding band!

King Brian Wilson Royal Festival Hall, Wed 12th Sep I hadn’t slept for the longest time, and I’m afraid to say my emotions were stretched beyond all reason with masterpi (plural of masterpiece) such as ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’, ‘Sloop John B’, ‘Surfer Girl’ and ‘God Only Knows’. With such a compendium of corkers, it’s hardly surprising I could barely see through the tears. No bad thing, considering my fembot had started chewing on the man in fronts grey ponytail. Not pretty.

After a half-time break of oranges (me) and chloroform (her) we listened to Wilson’s latest mastery, a new suite called ‘That Lucky Old Sun (a Narrative).’ Together with a rather bizarre visual display of clip-art animations, the whole piece strayed from the more recognizable sound of sun and surf, relaxing enough to send me happily to sleep at one point. Waking up with drool on my face when more sun-kissed classics blew out. The femus fly-trap awoke and we had a bit of a dance (or anesthetic-induced conniption in her case) and waved goodbye to the nice smiley man, who despite years of misery and illness, is still Smile-ing and awesome-ing and surfing the world.

If you’ve never seen this man, do whatever it takes, scratch as many backs, fiddle with as many knobs as you can to get tickets to one of his shows….even if they are all finished by the time you read this – I hear he’s playing in Sydney next year!

northern@theothersidemag.co.uk

Listen to this......The Clientele.....

The Clientele return with their fourth sun drench album of hazy, romantic tales of infectious pop. This welcome return comes after an extensive world tour that took the band to the four corners of the globe. Released on the 1st October the aptly title ‘God Save the Clientele’ sees the band grow and mature into a sound that has made them instantly recognisable and has won them critical acclaim across the board. They play Koko on 17th Oct and the Union Chapel on 11th Nov

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

INKING H T EN WHAT'S NICO BE

?

K E E T HI S W