TOSMAG 003

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Thursday 8th March 07


Letter from the Editor.

Contents

Bonjour readers! Spring is upon us and to mark the occasion we’ve added an extra page to our magazine, not only that but we’ve

Fancy That?

printed an extra 100 copies due to the overwhelming demand. We can barely contain our excitement. It’s been a hectic few weeks, which has included a tear-

Sparrows and Tractors

away trip to Liverpool to see the sights....well maybe just the bars, if you're ever there check out the Philharmonic, apparently the most ornate pub in the UK....and getting there...take the M6 Toll Road, it’s like being transported to

Almost Perfect

a wonderful European motorway for an hour. Then we had the Lunar eclipse, unfortunately I was engulfed in Bear Grylls on C4, dropped into the Jungle with nothing but a

7 Stops

knife, he survived, snakes, termites, rain, severe diarrhoea and a 100 ft waterfall to make it out. Incredible! Now sit back on your tube, glance at the person opposite you and check for any amusing facial features, smirk, relax

Food

a bit and prepare yourself for a brand new illustrator cooking up a storm in the kitchen, a near perfect weekend and a bunch of Chelski sparrows tearing up the Kings Road.

Cultural Comment

-Ed.

these legs handed out your mag this week

Bellowhead

Listen Up

Nico


This weekend I had to attend a fancy dress party. Needless to say I was dreading it... The theme was Arabian nights, which under normal circumstances I would have relished (tassels, little tops and jingly hip decorations are right up my street). dressed like a prat; (3)The sheer embarrassment of the whole thing

‘sweet treats’ and rather fewer gym

will force people to guzzle copious

sessions than usual and have thus

amounts of alcohol.

developed what I believe is referred

And this night didn’t disappoint.

to as a ‘belly’: Yes, it is no longer a

On my arrival I was satisfied to see

stomach but a bon-a-fide ‘belly’. In

that apart from one Smart Alec who

case you were wondering I am put-

had hired an Aladdin’s costume

ting this lapse (in what is usually the

(there’s always one) everyone else

most flawless of regimes) down to

had experienced the same difficulty

the February blues; the same excuse

in interpreting the theme from the

I am using for the fact that my ward-

contents of their wardrobes as I

robe gained - 3 pairs of flat points, a

had. There were pillow cases for

pair of purple suede boots, 4 pairs of

Turbans, green wigs for...well I really

footless tights, a pair of grey pinstripe

couldn’t say, and trainers, lots of

trousers, a wrap top, 3 dresses, 2

trainers, but none of this seemed to

lingerie sets, 2 pairs of sun glasses

matter (even to the self appointed

and THE cutest summer Mac - in 3

style Nazi herself)! There was just

days!

this general feeling that everyone (in

Anyway, back to the main point

your fellow Londoners if everyone

their own way) had stepped out of their comfort zone, and this resulted

an Arabian night’s themed party to

in a sense of unity and camaraderie

attend, and with no sign of a ‘get out

(I imagine somewhat similar to that

of jail’ card I went on a mission into

experienced in London during the

the deepest darkest depths of my

blitz – People under siege, hatred for

wardrobe. I emerged looking like a

a common enemy - in this case the

proto-type for Bollywood Barbie; gen-

party organizer). Anyway, after a few

erally more Delhi Days than Arabian

(too many) glasses of rum punch no

nights, but regardless (rather proud

one cared (or remembered) what they

of my efforts) I mounted my magic

were wearing anymore, and far from

carpet (ok, dads Ford Focus) and off

the night of pain and humiliation I had

to the party I flew.

envisaged the evening was actually

you can always guarantee with a fancy dress party (1)That everyone is

language and religion, imagine the sense of unity you would feel with

which was that me and my belly had

Now, there are three things

miss impeccable

However I have to admit that of late I have indulged in rather more

rather pleasant; a bit of a laugh you might say. This all left me thinking that maybe

dreading it as much as you are,

the problem with society is the lack of

(2)You will not be the only one

fancy dress in every day life. Forget

was dressed up as something beginning with the letter ‘F’ or their favourite cartoon character! As Mr B said; wouldn’t Fancy Dress Mondays be the perfect ‘Ying’ to Casual Fridays ‘Yang’? However, I thought why wait for this day to arrive? Why follow when you can blaze the trail for true freedom of expression; and what better place to start than on our tubes of black? So, after much negotiation with the editor (we argued, I threatened to leave, he broke down, said the publication would be nothing without me, blah blah blah...) I have secured a prize for our very own ‘Fancy Dress on the Northern line Competition’! Send in pictures of you, your friends, the dog next door... whoever, in fancy dress; the best offerings will be printed in the next issue, and the winner shall receive a grand prize! So what are you waiting for? Get out there, and GET FANCY!

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk


SPARROWS, TRACTORS AND LOUIS BY CARDOROWSKI So there I was, straying from the ol’ Ink Line, chasing a film of esoteric and euro vintage when I slipped for a while into the... but please allow me to swerve a little here to mourn the passing of the Ionic in Golders G, and the fact that so many of those outta-the-way flea pits have gone all multiplex, showing the same confexions as the Big Boys, offering less nutritious value than the Corn they flog in the foyer. Makes me weep. This perhaps is a cul de sac, not a swerve, so... There I was in Chelsea, at the eponymous Palais du Cinema, biding my time afore the arrival of my espoused and hankering for some digestible sustenance as I loitered at the entrance of the Waiting Rose. Recognising my scruffy unworthiness I retreated, but not before spying a struggling Momma with her chain of stacked trolleys. I say Momma because surely with that Alpine peak of food piled high she musta been feeding an army o’ young uns, but I qualify myself because she just as surely didn’t look as if she’d ever popped a cutie from her belly. Tottering in high heels, powdered, preened and polished to within an inch of her self, she resembled nothing so much as an annorexic sparrow encumbered with an impossible array of wriggling worms. And then, afore I had time to do the physix, she literally

flew across the King’s Road before my eyes. Through buses, taxis and irate white van men to the safety of her monster black, tinted window Porsche 4X4 with shiny chrome and full fat wheels. “Some nest” I thought to myself as she fluttered at some hapless passing Yout’ who proceeded to transfer her bags from trolleys to Tractor. The Sparrow quickly struggled indelicately to the running boards, the glinting door handle and then the wheel and seat of her Himalayan Vehicle. The Yout’ had no sooner slammed the backdoor than she was off with a velocity and alacrity that surprised all who witnessed the event. Which truth be told was but myself and a bottle wielding gent of the Street. He burped and I tried to whistle. He turned to find another absurdity to amuse himself and insodoing his gambling rag fell from a pocket. I thought of calling him back but my eyes were trapped by a headline so brazen as to be impassable. The main pic was of some Nag and Jockey in full racing colours. The banner above screamed at me “TEMPTED BY LUCIFER?” and I was caught. Had I just fallen foul of that most insidious temptation? That snide call to judge others of their ill behaviour? For sure she embodied everything I aspire not to be; materialistic, vain, neurotic, selfish, rude

and false, but does that mean that that is who she really IS? Every bird needs a nest and it’s true that the smallest birds crave the safest homes, that the most neglected will put on the wildest show to attract a mate, the most neurotic to untold lengths to provide for their young. So who am I to judge such a fretful and frail bag of bones? And just who is She, this impossible, imperilled Passer d. domesticus (lat)? Why won’t she feed herself and live on food instead of nerves? Why is she roaming the Borough in such an obviously unsustainable vehicle/nest when such a preposterous splashing of cash does nothing to safeguard the future of the young uns I presuppose that she was on the way to feed? Why does she surround herself in such a penetrable


pity but also my brotherhood, for do we not all, at times live afeared lives? Encumber ourselves for protection? And is not ALL stuff but mere gilding and fancy Ironwork to weigh us down and deny us the potential that we all have within us? And have not I so availed myself with more than my fair share of Ironwork? Deadweight? We change the gilding, repaint the bars but still we’re slaves in cages. Her and Me. And who is to blame? ? ? ? Ooooohhhhh we could go on, couldn’t we?! We could name names! But in the end it’s us. You and Me and Her. Isn’t it? We cave and crumble before fear and temptation, we choose to win a crappy, puerile game rather than play the harder one that we may not win but we’d enjoy because of that. That Louis Cypher is a tricky signifier of wealth amidst a town of wannagets and willhaves? Doesn’t she understand that she has to, as Ray Lamontagne points out, be careful of walls, because when they fall, they will fall on you? But more than all of that, what is she so frightened of and who has made her that way? There is an old saying that goes ‘You can vote for freedom and you will probably lose, or you can vote for slavery and you will definitely win.” What goes begging though is, what do you lose and what do you win? Seems to me our Little Bird has clipped her wings to win a game that has erased her Self from the existence she finds herself in. She looks like she’s wrapped in a Gilded Cage unable to sing. And she deserves neither my judgement nor only my

buggerer, he used to be found in dark dank corners they say. Now he seems to float across our front pages, screens, billboards and radios unquestioned, and he’s sold us his slavery for the price of our freedom. Good deal for him. Death for us. Albeit a gold encrusted one. Maybe. In closing, I owe the sparrow an apology. Sorry Darlin’. But I know not where to find ya. I could hang out by Waitrose hoping for a return, but I do know where NOT to look, South of the River. I hear those tractors are barred from bridges because of their preposterous tonnage! LIGHTEN UP! return, but I do know where NOT to look, South of the River. I hear those tractors are barred from bridges because of their preposterous tonnage! LIGHTEN UP!

Here’s a HOT tip from Cardorowski Go to the Roundhouse (Chalk Farm and a hop or Camden Than and a trudge on the ol’ Ink Line) to catch ‘The Dream’ a version of Old Bills’ ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ by a gang of Indian Actors in 7 (count ‘em) languages. It’ll well and truly blow your mind. If you don’t do theatre or knows someone who doesn’t, take the trip. It’s everything that theatre should be but rarely is; Spectacular; Exotic; Funky and Funny; Romantic not sentimental; Precise and utterly WILD! If ya don’ know the story already, read the Cliff notes, if ya do, pin your ears back and your eyes open and get reaaaaadeeeeeeee!

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk


One goal shy of a perfect weekend their adoring audience at

Saturday morning 10.30am

better for seeing the

encapsulating our city is.

It’s easy to forget how

the same time with a breed

– awake and standing in

amateur Italians beating

How mesmerising it can be

of harmonic pop tunes that

the park, already sodden

the ‘Brave’ Scots. Then

on a crisp spring evening.

had to be seen to be really

with mud, my Saturday

home to mingle with

In particular there is some-

appreciated. The show

morning football team kicks

friends, in what can only

thing absolutely wonderful

was an extra special one

off. It’s a vital cup match, a

be described as the best

about being a Londoner

for which they employed

must win game and within

Saturday night venue in our

and wandering through the

a percussionist and a

ten minutes we are one

darling City: a bar in your

hoards of junkies, thieves and yanks in Ly-cester square, on to Piccadilly Circus and then down the steps to the ICA. On a mild Friday night the place was deserted apart from a few bodies searching for a ticket to see the brilliant Field Music. Rather fortuitously I was one of those few

W

garage. Stocked to the max

hat better way to spend the girlfriendless afternoon than with a few tins watching the egg chasers run around biting each others ears off.

bodies trying to offload the

with drink, loud music and anything else you please. Sunday morning 10.30am – awake and standing in the park, a little hungover and even more sodden with mud than yesterday. A less vital game for a different team but nonetheless as much fun, this time not even a last minute penalty could steal

spare ticket that my mate

multi-talented music player

down, the score fluctuates

victory from our grasp. 4-3.

had lumbered me with

to the three piece line up.

rapidly 1-1, 2-1, 2-2, 4-2,

Then off to Spurs, 3-0 up

as he’d decided to go on

They tore through songs

4-3, 6-3 clawing ourselves

within 20 minutes - it

a date (with a girl!). Not

new and old to everybody’s

back to 6 each and having

was a dream come true,

being used to touting and

delight, although rather

completed my first ever

eventually turning out

remembering back to the

disappointingly failed

hat-trick it’s all out attack,

4-1 victors with the biggest

last time, being arrested

to come back on for an

only to be denied by a last

cheer coming when the

on Brighton beach, when I

encore. The signs said it

minute own goal. 7-6 and

Chelski v Ars*nal score and

tried to sell the extra ticket

all though; CURFEW 11pm

everybody on the team

mass brawl appeared on

we had to the Beach Foot-

and it was well past that

looks like they’ve woken

the big screen.

ball, in which incidentally,

when the gig finished. It

up in a swamp! But this is

Eric Cantona was sent off ,

was however the beginning

football and we understand

this holds little relevance

What happened after

I was a little sceptical. How-

of a weekend (girlfriend/

it, take the winning with the

and is something that I

ever it went immediately

wife/partner/mistress) +

losing, the good with the

won’t be sharing with the

and with no trouble from

(less) Men nationwide

bad...you get the picture.

general public but come

the FEDS.

could only dream of. If

Anyway – What better

Field Music were by

Monday morning 180

you don’t believe in

way to spend the girlfriend-

minutes of playing around

far and away the most

football then like the BBC

less afternoon than with a

in a mud bath is beginning

professional band I have

newsreaders say, “look

few tins watching the egg

to catch up with me....if

ever seen, not only that

away now.”

chasers run around biting

only we could’ve scored

each others ears off. All the

one more goal!

but they managed to wow

In short here it is....


w With three FA Cup Matches on the BBC this weekend get your mates around and impress them with a Gourmet Chicken Burger.

h

For four people use: 4 Chicken Breasts Streaky Bacon Rocket Avocado Ciabatta Rolls. Sauces

TO SUBSCRIBE TO THE OTHER SIDE PLEASE SEND 5 STAMPED ADDRESSED ENVELOPES TO The Other Side Magazine, Suite 2, PO Box 39437, Muswell Hill, N10 3HL

1. Wrap your chicken breasts in the bacon and put them in a buttered frying pan, on a medium temperature. 2. While these are cooking chop the avo up and throw it in with the rocket, add some Olive Oil and Balsamic vinegar 3. On the Ciabatta, spread garnish at will, Mayo, Ketchup, Chilli Sauce, HP....it’s your decision. 4. Put Salad on bottom of Bun. 5. Take cooked Chicken and place on top of said Salad. 6. Place top half of Ciabatta on chicken. 7. Serve with Beers, Crisps and 3-1 to Spurs

This weeks competition Nicolas Wine shop in Muswell Hill have kindly donated a Wine Voucher for this weeks competition winners. To be in with a chance of winning and receiving expert help on French Wines from Alexandre then just answer this question. Who scored the Winning Goal in the 2006 FA Cup Final?

Please send all other correspondence to editor@theothersidemag.co.uk

a.GĂŠrard Depardieu b.Steven Gerrard c. Gerrard Houllier Please send your answer to the usual email!

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk


Downstairs at the King’s Head

Jump on the 41 to crouch end from Archway and get in before the crowds do for some hilarious comedy..Thursday’s is try out night...so be prepared for the best and worst of what North London has to offer us in the way of funny men and women. NB. don’t sit at the front!

The Proud Galleries

With the FA Cup quarter finals this weekend why not spend Sunday at Camden’s Proud Galleries. Loads of big screens beer offers and the best part is that it is lout-less.

Crouch End

£5-£9 entry

Stick around after for live music.

Blackburn v Man City, 16:00 Chelsea v Tottenham, 12:45 Plymouth v Watford, 18:00

East Finchley

Archway

Highgate Brent Cross

Camden Town

Tufnell Park

Chalk Hampstead Farm

Golders Green

Belsize Park

Mornington Crescent

Euston

Angel Warren Street

Moorga Tottenham Court Road Goodge Street

The Dream

a version of Old Bills' ‘Midsummer Night's Dream' by a gang of Indian Actors in 7 (count 'em) languages. It'll well and truly blow your mind. The Roundhouse Chalk Farm

Old Street

Kings Cross

Kentish Town

Leic

The ALPHA BEAT

Sat 10th March Make a date with new music Strokes influenced indie band release their ep at THE SPICE OF LIFE in Soho. It’s on Moor Street just Shaftesbury Avenue. Rinse it down with a late n oriental dinner in China To

£20

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

£5


The Fiddler’s Elbow

St Paddy’s Day 17th March I’ll be down in Brighton for the annual knees up. Live Bands lots of Guinness (if your not a fan of the Black Stuff..try mixing it with Tia Maria...YUM)

Theatre 503 Theatre503 and Strike Ensemble present a riotous and compelling exploration of how society deals with its outsiders by internationally acclaimed Australian writer Andrew Bovell.

When you’ve had enough. run 100 yards to the beach and jump in the Sea! £8-15 for a train there!

£12 / £7 concession Tuesdays PAY WHAT YOU CAN

Borough

Bank

ate

Elephant

London Bridge

Charing Cross

cester Square

Waterloo

Kennington

Clapham Common

Stockwell Oval

Clapham North

Embankment

Paris by train!

c

rock

. t off

night own

Anytime. I walked through waterloo station the other day and realised how easy it is to go to Paris for the Day/Night. For less than a new pair of Nikes you could be living it up with French. Visit the Palais De Tokyo for something other than the typical Eiffel, Louve same old and then find a little bistro who’s owners do not parlez anglais.

7 Stops editor@theothersidemag.co.uk


Food

Confessions of a celebrity-chef junkie I saw a celebrity chef pull up outside a swanky London club in his £150,000 Ferrari amidst a volley of snapping cameras and flashes, some half-baked, silicon-infused, sugarcoated blond tucked under his arm, fodder for the tabloids. I have to tell you that I wanted to deck him. Here’s why. You see, Mr Celebrity-Chef, you walk past me without so much as a by-your-leave when actually you should be stopping to shake me vigorously by the hand. It was me (and thousands like me) who put you in your Armani suit and your supercar. You would, after all, be

on the 14-inch black glass plate on to

nothing without us — your devoted

which my (SEE “http://great

minions — celebrity-chef junkies who

grub.com/recipes/511”) stilton-honey-

just can’t get enough of you.

stuffed-chocolate-coated-grape will

I did a crude calculation a while

be placed. And I would always forget

back. In my worst years as a user,

to taste the wonder of my boiled egg

I would watch around 600 hours of

and soldiers that I would have for

cooking shows annually (that’s not far

breakfast, the stuff TV shows should

off a month) and spend anywhere up

actually be telling us about.

to £500 on cook books. I would buy

If there are any TV moguls reading

gadgets for my kitchen that I never used but was told I had to have. My pantry would be full of ingredients I couldn’t even pronounce, let alone know how to use (although they did look good in their expensive glass containers). I would lie awake at night wondering what swanky meal to put together for dinner on Saturday, stress about it all week and then chicken out of the braised leg of pheasant, re-hydrated porcini and

this, you guys have a hell of a lot to ceps mushrooms in a tarragon and marsala jus with shavings of white truffles at the last minute. I reckon I never cooked a single recipe I saw on TV and maybe less than a dozen from all my cookbooks put together. I would wake up on the morning of a dinner party dripping in sweat, obsessing over how to ensure that the icing sugar was evenly distributed

answer for. You make millionaires out of some cute, witless girl who encourages us to cook crap meals in less than half an hour. You get studio audiences to whoop with delight when some over-the-hill, face-lifted has-been juggles a handful of garlic cloves. You take an hour out of our lives to show us how to make a pate from a rare wild boar that comes only


available in the first two weeks of November. And just when poor sods like me think they are over the worst you serve up some glitzy new show with even more exotic entrees served up in even more exotic locations with ingredients that would have (“http://greatgrub.com/reference/ alton_brown”) Alton Brown himself reaching for a culinary encyclopaedia. Show after show, day after day, you keep them coming. Then, just to rub our faces in it, you get us to buy the book that accompanies the series, making loads more cash for your network so that you can employ yet another witless wonder with a regional accent to showcase dishes we will never eat. I bet you sleep well at night on your full stomachs.

In fairness, we need to carry the

our planet has provided us with the

can too. After all, it is we who set the

most extraordinary variety of gifts that

Skyplus to record these wretched

makes our survival — well — tastier.

shows and part with our hard-earned

Weave that into a cloth of social fabric

cash to buy the pots, the pans, the

that adorns our tables, and you’ve got

shakers and makers (and, of course,

great grub. Trust me, you don’t need

the books). So much for the college

a celebrity chef for that.

fund. Thankfully, it doesn’t take too many hours in rehab to kick the habit.

by David king Lassman

I found hanging out with buddies who

illustrations by Toby Whyte

cook real food worked a treat. I have been clean for almost a year now. Truth is, there are some great TV personalities out there who have done a lot for food (the aforementioned Alton Brown, Jamie Oliver, Nigella Lawson to name a few). The point is most of them are missing the point. Food is not simply a science or just an art-form. It is a necessary function of survival and it just so happens that

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk


Cultural Comment

Darts? With the Olympics only 5 years away now I have decided to get fit. Possibly fit enough to be part of the British Darts team. Darts.... Olympics? Yes it is true the BDA (British Darts Association) are attempting to gain

to the bar to top up your Stella cannot be considered athletics. Fingers crossed people. If we can get Phil “THE POWER” Taylor and Andy Fordham to the Olympics anything is possible. Live

K

the Dream!

Olympic recognition. Surely in a sport where the most action involves walking

Eggs A Food that smells like a fart, case closed.

ASE You can’t beat a good science conference, and I say that with utmost meaning. It’s just gone 12.45 and the lunchtime rush has begun at Birmingham University where the ASE (association of Science education) show is taking place and what a day it has been so far. A young Asian man wearing a trilby hat has walked passed backwards and forwards 7 times in the last 8 or 9 minutes, perhaps looking for the free tea and coffee stand. About 10

TTTTTT

minutes ago what sounded

are questionable to say

the focus could be on the

like a herd of elephants

the least, one dropped his

people who tour around

came through the hallway

stethoscope into the fallen

the show with their suit-

to my left ‘stomp STOMP

mans blood before happily

cases filling them up with

STOMP’ getting louder and

placing in his ear.

whatever they can get their

louder until an old Dutch

When the ambulance

hands on be it, puzzles,

science teacher did his

arrives to take him away

pads of paper, gingerbread

best Didier Drogba

his colleagues, all from the

men, chocolate, one man

impression flying to the

Netherlands have been

has even gone so far to

floor head first. My initial

informed that he will be

ask if he can have my

reaction was that he had

taken to Selly Oak hospital,

bic biro straight out of my

had a heart attack or

where? Precisely. Once

hand....I’ve even witnessed

similar but it soon came to

there I wish them the best

some poaching the single

pass that he had tripped on

of luck getting back to

teabags and sugar from the

the shoddily put together

Holland.

coffee stand.

carpet that had been laid

Now if we add to that the

Like I said there is no way

in the gigantic marquee.

other things that occur

you can beat a good Sci-

He still sits opposite after

there is more than enough

ence Conference.

being bandaged by the

material for an entire series

ASE medics, whose skills

of sketch shows. Perhaps

Skinny Jeans Do men with low tight trousers look as silly as I think they do? The answer undoubtedly is yes! A resounding yes. Unless your face is as pale as the dulux dog and your legs could be replaced with a pair of chopsticks there is no way you should be in those ‘Cheap Monkey’ kegs. But who decides this? I mean that in the kindest of ways. Did Christian Dior waltz up to Pete Doherty at a Babyshambles after party and request he dons the ‘skinny jean’ or was the lure of borrowing a pair of Kate’s trousers too much for him. Whatever the case I as a 25 year old male cannot condone them.


Red Hot style! They had

“Lassoo” and a stage that

all of these events. Nothing

but two songs to strut their

could hardly bear the com-

like getting truth wrapped

stuff and in those brief mo-

motion! Jigs, reels and the

up in a dance! Especially

ments, they strutted, waltzed,

Rochdale Coconut Dance!

when you’re being taught

tangoed and morris danced

I

so

the “Lassoo” for the first

all over my head, hands

much since I swung to the

time and you wrench your

I start with

and feet. Left me bleeding

Clash City Rockers! Songs

shoulder with glee as the

a wahwah Bazouki solo!

and crumpled on the floor

of old that tell us that

song goes on for everrrrrrrr!

And if that don’t whet yer

begging

And

‘Honesty’s all out of Fashion’,

appetite, yer dead. How

they call themselves a Folk

of losing your baby cause

I could tell

‘bout a drum solo that threw

Band! Bloody liberty.

you wooed too slow, the

ya that they played the

BELLOWHEAD, Floral Hall, Royal Opera House, 24th feb 07.

for

more!

haven’t

sweated

in the kitchen sink and all

songs on both their records

it holds? Literally. A horn

‘Burlesque’ and the EP

section that would make

‘Eponymous’ and everyone

James Brown spin, do the

had a staggeringly good

splits and rise agaayin!?

time; that they were hauled

Might even get Tom Waits

back twice for more before

to cross the Atlantic! A sec-

‘health and safety’ demand-

tion that includes a Sou-

ed a cessation of festivities,

saphone! COME ON, I’m

(probably ‘cause the Minx

telling ya! More violins than

and Booty Soots were get-

a String Quartet, songs

ting uncomfortable vibes in their nether regions!) and

older than any Mississippi Bluesman wrote and more

So, off to the

perils of Flash Company,

that my two sons raved

energy than the most dan-

Opera House, minglin’ with

of death by Maiden, the

until they dropped, but you

gerous of speed fuelled

the Minx and the booted

plight of the Sailor who

won’t unnerstand it ‘til you

punks!! All this and more

and sooted. Briefly. As they

does too much lovin’, and

go yourselves. They’re do-

is Bellowhead. A descrip-

traipsed off to some sump-

how a May morning walk

ing the Fests this summer,

tion defying 11 piece combo

tuous feast of glittering sets,

can bring you face to face

Glasto and the ilk and will

that agglomerate in unlikely

courtly dances, age old

with untold beauty...

probably crop up in the

spaces and tear the roof off

songs and the Fat Lady we

Death! All of life was there,

most unlikely places in-

the sucker! I saw them first

bounded upstairs to songs

played at a lick that defied

between. So KEEP YER

on ‘Later with Jools’ and

the Argonauts sang on their

both time and space, their

EYES

laughed as the Chili Peppers

way to Jason’s fleece, 10

smiles belying the fact that

records you can get at

looked on aghast when the

skinny blokes and a blonde

among the band are those

Bellowhead.co.uk, but the

Bellows blew them away.

Cellist, the doing of the

who have suffered/enjoyed

gig’s the thing.

or

PEELED!

The

Make Doherty History #003

dcccccccccn Cut off his dealer’s phone line

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk


LISTEN UP

indi a bi

Lail Arad is drinking an apple juice; she has to drive later. There are no chauffeurs yet, but give it time and this girl could be bumbling around with the contingent of female British artists floating around Camden at the moment. Last Tuesday Lail performed at London’s Kemia Bar, the private members

sings in French, albeit a

club below Momo’s in Hed-

tongue in cheek Piaf. It’s

don Street, to an extremely

showy and it works. Lail

expectant audience, the

is playing 93 Feet East in

Bar is downstairs, under-

Brick Lane on 27 March, a

ground. It screams of mid-

big venue with a capacity

dle eastern princesses and

of 600. Whether or not Lail

far away lands, Persian

fills the venue is yet to be

rugs, flamboyant cushions

known but being able to

and wonderful cocktails

play there is the start that

only add to the atmosphere

she is looking for.

Lail has created, however,

On the other side of the

She was not happy with her show, slightly critical of herself. Watching for the first time I couldn’t tell, it was clear however that she was enjoying herself. She performed like a performer, something that her theatre degree has helped her do, giving her confidence to be in control of the stage. She wants to make it big, record that album and tour but she is very focussed, not a single bit wary of the music industry, it appears it is something she wants to embrace. Lail wants to play gigs and

new artists of the north, build up a following, play

certainly full of love. All in

(of London that is) lies The

better more prestigious

all though they were good.

Alpha Beat, hailing from

gigs and build that following

Lail has a really voluptuous

a garage in the woods of

up even more.

voice that fluctuates up

Finchley. A stylish 5-piece,

and down and round and

they take inspiration from

has received 15,000 hits.

round right over the top

the vibe of The Strokes,

She recently removed

of her keys. However on

set a fire under it and then

all of her songs from her

first impression it’s still not

doused it with sardonic wit.

Myspace page as they

the finished article. Maybe

Frontman Jamie Demitriou

were not representing

– she needs to find her

delivers the Mrs. Robinson

what she was doing live, “I

true voice?

themed floor-filler, “Cold

Her video on youtube

Shoulder” with an attitude

should have new songs up

A week later and they

by my next gig.” The songs

are up, on first listen she

at once passionate and

that were on the website

has achieved what she

insouciant, every inch

were sort of un-niched,

set out to do, there are

an icon of cool. Catchy,

a bit quiet, a bit drum ‘n’

elements of Edith Piaf, on

angular riffs come courtesy

bass, a bit showy and

‘Je Suis une Touriste’ she

of feral genius Nico and his


ie boys and ig show gal. brother Joshua Watts, both

this band, both live, where

out on the 10 March 2007

with the commitment they

on guitar, and bassist Jash

brash unpredictability

and you can see them at

both show will continue to

Brandler funks it up, locking

means it’s always going

the Spice of Life in Soho on

do so for a long time, prob-

in tightly with the muscular

to be something special,

the same day.

aggression of drummer

and on record, where the

Josh Williams. Every song

tunes have been perfectly

that like Lail, the Alpha

www.myspace.com/lailarad

is wound up so tightly with

captured at Brick Lane’s

Beat are very pro-active

www.myspace.com/theal-

pop hooks that you can’t

Soup Studios. The debut

with their music, they both

phabeat

help but fall in love with

ep ‘Sparkle Sparkle’ comes

make things happen and

It would appear to me

ably until something kicks off...

by Sam

editor@theothersidemag.co.uk


W H A T ' S N ICO

HINKING T N BE E

K E E W T HIS


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