What’s On — 16 Crossword — 46 Intersections — 49 Music

What's On

All details correct at the time of writing

Photo: Paul Storr Photo: Alexandro Costra

Jessie Ware Sigrid

Photo: Lucy Hunter

Self Esteem

Music

TRNSMT takes centre stage from 8-10 July in Glasgow Green with Paolo Nutini, Niles Rodgers & Chic, Beabadoobee and Kitti playing on Friday, The Strokes, Foals, Wet Leg and Self Esteem on Saturday, and Lewis Capaldi, Wolf Alice, Sigrid and Rianne Downey on Sunday. The following weekend Doune the Rabbit Hole returns to the Cardross Estate in Stirlingshire (14-17 Jul) with a more alternative-leaning lineup featuring the inimitable Patti Smith, sleazy disco punks Warmduscher, art-rock tree worshippers Snapped Ankles and disco legends Boney M, as well as a whole host of extraordinary Scottish talent like Belle and Sebastian, Camera Obscura, Teenage Fanclub, Sacred Paws, Honeyblood, Poster Paints and Stanley Odd. In the capital, the Edinburgh Jazz & Blues Festival runs from 15-24 July with our top picks including Mercury Prize-nominated jazz quartet Dinosaur (17 Jul), Graham Costello’s STRATA (18 Jul), Georgia Cécile (19 Jul), Kitti (21 Jul), Nubya Garcia (21 Jul), Nathan Somevi Trio (22 Jul) and MDNMTH + AiiTee (22 Jul). Also in the capital this month, concerts are back at Edinburgh Castle with some stalwarts of the Scottish scene – Deacon Blue and Texas – taking over its esplanade on 9 and 14 July respectively. There are some big shows in Glasgow this month too, with LA sister trio Haim playing the OVO Hydro (14 Jul), while fellow west coasters Modest Mouse float on to the Barrowlands on the 20th. At the cosier end of the spectrum, in Edinburgh Courtney Marie Andrews plays Voodoo Rooms (5 Jul), Richard Dawson & Circle play Summerhall (13 Jul) and New York rapper Wiki, formerly of hip-hop group Ratking, plays Sneaky Pete’s (27 Jul), the night after playing Glasgow’s Broadcast. Elsewhere, Green Door Studios celebrate their 15th birthday with a party at The Old Hairdresser’s (9 Jul), while The Wife Guys of Reddit launch their new EP at the same venue the following week (16 Jul). And keep your eyes peeled for some of the country’s most beloved small venues who have a bigger than usual emphasis on local bands this month. King Tut’s Summer Nights runs from 14 July to 27 August, with Dundee synthpoppers Echo Machine (23 Jul), an early highlight. Meanwhile The Hug & Pint offer up Endless Summer where you can catch Magpie Blue (10 Jul) and Lemon Drink (31 Jul), while Sneaky Pete’s and Broadcast bring back Central Belters; catch Constant Follower at both venues (20 and 21 Jul), and Swiss Portrait at Broadcast (23 Jul). [Tallah Brash]

Film

Many of New German Cinema auteur Wim Wenders’ best films trade in existential cool and a weary malaise, and some of them are screening at Glasgow Film Theatre, Dundee Contemporary Arts and Filmhouse in Edinburgh this month. Catch his compelling adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley’s Game, The American Friend (12-14 Jul, Filmhouse; 23-28 Jul, GFT); his dreamy love-letter to the romance of Berlin, Wings of Desire (7 Jul, DCA); and two brilliant, bittersweet road movies, Alice in the Cities (5-6 Jul, Filmhouse; 18 Jul, DCA) and Kings of the Road (9-11 Jul, Filmhouse; 10-13 Jul, GFT; 28 Jul, DCA). His masterpiece, Paris, Texas, is on general release from 29 July. GFT crown Christoper Nolan their latest CineMaster this month – The Prestige (5 Jul) and Inception (17-19 Jul) both screen on 35mm while his epic sci-fi Interstellar (24-26 Jul) gets the full 70mm treatment. There’s also a triple bill of his Dark Knight Trilogy on 9 July.

Photo: Kate Johnston

FOALS

Photo: Jacob Consenstein

Wiki

Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Photo: Travys Owen

Dj Lag

Photo:Matthew A. Williams

Nightwave Less bombastic are the exquisitely tender films of Céline Sciamma, which are screening at Filmhouse as part of Over the Rainbow, their regular strand celebrating queer cinema. It’s a complete retrospective of Sciamma’s directorial features, including sweet coming-of-age film Tomboy (9-10 Jul), the powerful teen friendship drama Girlhood (16-17 Jul) and her sweeping lesbian romance Portrait of a Lady (23-24 Jul). Arab cinema gets a compelling showcase at SAFAR Film Festival. The London-based event has been around for ten years, and marks this anniversary by going on tour across the UK. One of the stops is the CCA in Glasgow, where a trio of films screen: Farha (15 Jul), Our Memory Belongs to Us (16 Jul) and Shall I Compare You to a Summer’s Day? (16 Jul) – the latter a wild sounding queer musical inspired by the One Thousand and One Nights folktales. If al fresco cinema that doesn’t break the bank is more up your street, head to Glasgow Queen’s Park, which continues its season of free outdoor screenings. Among the lively lineup we recommend The Rocky Horror Picture Show (10 Jul), Pulp Fiction (11 Jul), The Warriors (13 Jul), Withnail and I (14 Jul) and Purple Rain (22 Jul).

Clubs

There are two big parties taking place across Scotland, no matter what your music taste, to kick off the first weekend of the month (or at least the first weekend by our print schedule). In Glasgow, there’s A Night of Italo Disco at The Berkeley Suite. And in Edinburgh the following night, Redstone Press & Friends returns to Sneaky Pete’s with Jon K, Elle Andrews and Lewis Lowe in tow. Then it’s back to Glasgow we go for a couple of birthday parties, and my brief yet feeble attempt to wedge in as many door puns as possible. First up, legendary Glasgow recording studio The Green Door Studio celebrates its 15th birthday party at The Old Hairdressers on 9 July. And as one door closes, another one opens (yes, I’m aware this doesn’t make sense in this context), as the following week The Yellow Door celebrates its eighth birthday party at The Berkeley Suite on 15 July. Dundee troupe Le Freak and friends bring a new day festival to the city with their Newport Pier party – not the one made famous by The O.C. we’re afraid – on 16 July. The same weekend in Glasgow, the legendary Sub Club celebrates its 30th anniversary with its two-day Sub Club Southside Weekender in the Queen’s Park Arena on 16 & 17 July, with headliners Hunee and Kerri Chandler. Gqoming in hot with two Scottish dates this month is Gqom pioneer DJ Lag, following the release of his debut album, Meeting with the King, earlier this year. He plays Stereo in Glasgow on 22 July and Sneaky Pete’s in Edinburgh on 23 July. And if you fancy a warm-up, Isoscelees are throwing a party at Leith Arches, with all proceeds going to the Scottish Refugee Council. And there’s one last festival to round off the month, as new kids on the block Junction 1 bring their summer festival to Glasgow’s Morris Park from 29-31 July. Across the weekend, you can expect to catch an eclectic mix of acts, including The Wailers, Soul II Soul, Groove Armada and Kelis, as well as more local names like Rebecca Vasmant and Nightwave. [Nadia Younes]

Art

Three new commissions at Collective consider the social and cultural histories of the gallery’s current site at Edinburgh’s City Observatory. Annette Krauss has worked with Collective over several years to produce A Matter of Precedents, which examines the Observatory as site of ‘common good’ and ‘collective property’. The second commission, The Beast by Ruth Ewan, is a ‘surreal animated morality tale’ focusing on a retelling of the life of ScottishAmerican steel magnate Andrew Carnegie. The final commission at Collective is Camara Taylor’s backwash, which invokes a conversation with Scotland’s myriad waterways using video and mixed media, drawing on an array of historical paraphernalia. Taylor’s and Krauss’s exhibitions continue until 4 September, with Ruth Ewan’s open until 8 September.

Embassy Gallery presents Annuale, a grassroots festival of contemporary art that takes place from 8-15 July across Edinburgh and online. The Annuale will launch with a night of performance art at The Wee Red Bar. Also in Edinburgh, Fruitmarket presents Daniel Silver’s exhibition Looking – a body of new works on paper and an array of ceramic vessels and figures that spans the gallery and its new Warehouse space. At the CCA in Glasgow, Scott Caruth’s and Alexander Hetherington’s exhibition Seen and Not Seen navigates questions of visibility, queer identity and knowledge production. The show continues until 16 July. While at the

Shall I Compare You to a Summer’s Day?

Rebecca Vasmant

if i cant have sunshine ill take-, 2022 -3, Camara Taylor

Image: courtesy Glasgow Zine Library

Glasgow Zine Festival

Image: courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Robert Burns

Photo: Hussina Raja

Dean Atta CCA, also check out the annual Glasgow Zine Fest (2-3 Jul), which this year focuses on the theme of ‘collective autonomy’. Meanwhile, at The Gallery of Modern Art, Clara Ursitti’s exhibition Amik spans the geographies of Canada and Scotland, focusing on histories of trade and exchange, taking the form of found objects, films and sound works. Towards the end of July, the two-day Sufi Festival (23-24 Jul) features exhibitions by Peter Sanders, Ӧmer Saruhanlioglu and Nadia Djavansir, all taking place at Tramway, Glasgow. [Harvey Dimond]

Theatre

Kicking July off in style is the legendary Bard In The Botanics (until 30 Jul), taking place outdoors in Glasgow’s picturesque Botanic Gardens. Highlights include two brand new versions of A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream (until 9 Jul) and The Tempest (14-30 Jul). It’s not all just Shakespeare, though – Kathy McKean’s new version of Greek Tragedy Medea, starring Nicole Cooper, will be on until the 9th. In Tramway, Indepen-dance, an award-winning inclusive dance company for disabled and non-disabled people, will be presenting an international, four day festival of dance. Gathered Together (6-9 Jul) features local and international work exploring the intersection between personal and political identity – read more about it in our article on p28. Also taking place at Tramway is the Sufi Festival, a two-day weekender showcasing leading practitioners of Muslim arts from the UK and further afield (23-24 Jul). The line-up includes free music, theatre, poetry, storytelling, ritual ceremonies of devotion (whirling) and interactive workshops, as well as a Sufi conference. Fancy a musical? Tron Theatre are hosting the world premiere of John Byrne’s Underwood Lane (14-30 Jul), written in tribute to his Paisley buddy Gerry Rafferty. Over in Edinburgh, you can catch the return of Footloose after its two critically acclaimed tours and London West End run (Edinburgh Playhouse, 19-23 Jul). For something a bit different in Scotland’s capital, why not head to Redcoats in Residence at Gladstone’s Land on the 9th? You’ll be thrown into the world of the 1746 Jacobite Rising and greeted by wandering actors in costume and character. Early birds catch the worm, as they say. If you want to avoid big Edinburgh crowds, you can catch the previews of some Fringe and EIF shows at the tail-end of July. The National Theatre of Scotland will be kicking off their big political show Exodus, written by Uma Nada-Rajah, on the 28th (Macrobert Arts Centre, Stirling; then Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh). Alan Cummings’ brand new piece of dance theatre Burn, an examination of Scotland’s National Bard, begins on the 30th (at Beacon Arts Centre, Greenock) before heading to Edinburgh’s King’s Theatre on the 4 August. [Eliza Gearty]

Poetry

Re·creation is a blistering new anthology by contemporary queer poets, edited by Éadaoín Lynch and Alycia Pirmohamed, published by Stewed Rhubarb Press. The anthology features an incredible array of poets including Mary Jean Chan, Andrew McMillan, and Courtney Conrad. A dazzler of a launch night is planned for 30 July and will take place in Life Church on Edinburgh’s Davie Street/W Richmond Street. Joelle Taylor, Dean Atta, and Harry Josephine Giles are all performing and there will be a Q&A session with the editors, Éadaoín and Alycia. There is a new open mic night taking place in Typewronger Books every second Monday of the month (July through to October), hosted by little living room. This one isn’t just for poets, but also for storytellers, singers, and other creatives who would like to use the performance platform. Keep your eyes on little living room’s Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook for details on how to book tickets. It’s also open to performers under 18, so younger poets, please come along! Indie publisher Bad Betty Press is teaming up with Loud Poets to bring a night of poetic revelry to the Scottish Storytelling Centre, 2 July. The two are bringing together a dynamic line-up of spoken word and poetry, featuring Molly Naylor, Shanay Neusum-James, and Gray Crosbie. The event will also feature an open mic section – just sign up on the night to get your place on the stage. Poetry is also at the heart of Scotland’s most loved festivals this year. At Belladrum Tartan Heart festival, Hamish MacDonald is curating and hosting the Verb Garden, which features poets such as Stephen Watt, Julie McNeil, and Kevin Graham. [Beth Cochrane]

and Tramway Image: courtesy of Gathered Together

IRA con Cuerpos, Ila Malaver

Photo: Rich Dyson

5 Meet the Team — 6 Editorial — 7 Love Bites — 8 Heads Up 11 What’s On — 16 Crossword  — 46 Intersections — 49 Music 55 Film & TV — 58 Design — 61 Food & Drink — 62 Books 63 Comedy — 65 Listings — 70 The Skinny On… David Lemm

20 23 24

28 31 34

35 36 39

40 43 44

Features

20 Poet and author Michael Pedersen discusses his prose debut, Boy Friends, an exploration of male grief and friendship.

23 As German auteur Wim

Wenders’ masterpiece Paris,

Texas returns to cinemas, we examine the urge to walk into the desert.

24 Degree shows returned in person – we review the class of 2022 in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Dundee.

28 Indepen-dance introduce

Gathered Together, their inclusive dance festival arriving at Tramway this month.

31 Panah Panahi on his debut, bittersweet family road movie

Hit the Road.

34 We meet Yorkshire band Working Men’s Club to hear about their second album, Fear Fear.

35 Belfast’s Robocobra Quartet on new album Living Isn’t Easy and their ‘no guitar’ policy.

36 A pull-out-and-keep poster by artist and illustrator Nathaniel Russell.

39 We chat with POWA, Fanny

Riot and Popgirlz about the launch of Friendly Festivals in Scotland.

40 As influential Scottish label LuckyMe turns 15, we take a look back over its formative years.

43 Stand-up and podcast star

Alison Spittle on her newest

Edinburgh Fringe show, Wet.

44 Does the new Obi-Wan Kenobi series solve the Star Wars franchise’s problems?

On the website... Reviews of gigs from St. Vincent, Biffy Clyro, Peaches, Harry Styles and others; The Cineskinny podcast (every other Thursday, listen early and listen often); a deep dive on Primavera Sound and a write-up from NOS Alive – and look out for news from the Edinburgh International Film Festival from 20 July

Shot of the month

Nick Cave @ Primavera, 28 Jun 2022 by Magdalena Zehetmayr

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

9 10

11 12

13

17

19

21 22 23

24

25 14 15

16

26 27 18

28 29 20 Across

9. Ready to listen (3,4) 10. Homage – not the greatest song in the world (7) 11. Composer (d.1886) – Z-list (anag) (5) 12. Silence – inertia (9) 13. Someone with their head in the clouds (10) 15. Involuntary sleepy noise (4) 17. Glaswegian music producer Ross

Birchard – unhooked whams (anag) (6,7) 21. Cheese lovers (4) 23. Published via multiple outlets simultaneously (10) 25. Immediately upon looking (2,1,6) 27. Polynesian country (5) 28. Get through – have the intended effect (3,4) 29. Not nocturnal (7) Down

1. Ditties (7) 2. Gesundheit (5,3) 3. Bury – conclude (3,2,4) 4. With no changes (2,2) 5. Be wildly successful – let's irk God (anag) (6,4) 6. Boy goat (5) 7. "I've got it!" (6) 8. Abates (7) 14. Nuisances (10) 16. He's so vain, I bet he thinks that myth is about him (9) 18. Drug – take mine (anag) (8) 19. Compassion (7) 20. In a perfect world (7) 22. Talkative (6) 24. Detached (5) 26. Tips (4)

Compiled by George Sully

Turn to page 7 for the solutions

The theme for July is a little bit amorphous – in the calm before the August festivals extravaganza, we’ve taken a moment to celebrate art’s power to reflect and transform. Our lead feature is an interview with poet and author Michael Pedersen, whose prose debut Boy Friends mines his experience of grief to explore the nature of love and friendship. And as Wim Wenders’ masterpiece Paris, Texas returns to cinemas, we ponder the urge to wander in the desert for emotional healing. Indepen-dance’s inclusive dance festival, Gathered Together, arrives in Tramway – the organisers tell us about how they are working to change the face of dance around the world. Finally, our most transformative of creative experiences, the degree show. We report back from the class of 2022’s exhibitions in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Dundee.

A Contract of Friendship

As he prepares to unleash his first book of prose, Boy Friends, we meet Michael Pedersen to discuss friendship, love and grief

Interview: Kirstyn Smith

In a book that’s filled with musings and fascinations and reminiscences on friendship, there’s a section towards the end of Boy Friends that imagines a more constitutional way of looking at things. Author Michael Pedersen leans back against his erstwhile legal training to conjure the concept of a friendship contract. What would it be like if there were a set of tenets and principles that covered fidelity, forgiveness, behaviour, grief? “It would enable us to view friendship on our own terms and safeguard ourselves from toxic friendship or friendship under duress,” he mulls. “What are we offering as a friend under these circumstances, and what do we expect in return?” What happens when you push friendship too far? What are the clauses for termination? And what about when a friendship is taken from you far sooner than you want? In part, Pedersen is

ruminating on the hierarchies of grief – where do we stand among the hordes of mourners, when can we talk about something else, go back to work, post a selfie? Boy Friends began as a homage to Pedersen’s late and dear friend Scott Hutchison, growing into a celebration of male friendship and a deep dip into the highs and lows of mental illness and grief. “[The idea of a friendship contract] helped me understand where I was without [this] friendship. Here’s what we’re entitled to when this is no longer around: periods of grieving, emotional compensations. Imagine all that was impossibly spilled down in this fictitious contract. It would give us a bit more of a crutch at a time when the world was crumbling.” Of course, he goes on to concede, it would be impossible to draft and would have to be constantly envolving. And that’s the thing: Photo: The Portobello Bookshop ongoing friendships can’t be pinned and spread like a butterfly. So, Pedersen turns his lepidopterism to the ones in his past, celebrating his favourite boy friends gone by. It’s a linear non-linear epistolary read that charts both his life in friends and more or less the year after the loss of his very best one. As Boy Friends reveals early on, Pedersen is someone who just has a lot of feelings. “That’s what my mum told me during these periods of emotional turmoil, painting the day’s dramatics in positive swirls. I took it to heart, thought of it like a superpower.” For context, this passage comes after he’s held a solo vigil in the rain following his first experience of death – his hamster Pepsi. But this is an identity that seems to fit; Pedersen talks about relating hard to a misremembered Counting Crows lyric, “I feel things twice as much as you do,” in one of those fits of teen angst. it’s only natural that he brings his all-giving, all-loving, all-feeling nature into his friendships. “I didn’t know where to put all the energy inside of myself,” he says. “I was looking for friendships that wanted to Michael Pedersen swallow the other person up really quickly. I wanted this comrade-in-arms, this fraternal, all-encompassing bond. I wanted it immediately, and yesterday, and fast.” This sense of hyper emotionality comes in some sense from the media he consumed, from love songs and poetry and fantasy literature – Sam and Frodo's companionship in Lord of the Rings seems to have particularly struck a chord. Taking this intensity into early friendships isn’t without its drawbacks, though – friendships made at our emotional zeniths can be short-lived, intense and fragile. Until he actually sat down to write Boy Friends, Pedersen hadn’t realised how many of his seminal friendships – the ones most full of love, entered into most vehemently, and perhaps hardest to deal with – were no longer in his life. “When I looked back at them and they’d all expired, I was looking for some sort of formula that would make sense of them,” he says. “Because that would give me the apparatus to learn how to celebrate this friendship with Scott which was no longer around for an entirely different reason. I thought if I could work out how to celebrate these lost friendships, then I’d fortify myself to celebrate this friendship which was more cruelly taken away.” Scott is the entity that permeates the book in the same way he permeated Pedersen’s life: wholly, joyously and lovingly. Their friendship reads like a movie: Pedersen paints him performing under lights that illuminate him in the way he deserves; they take unimaginable trips to South Africa where they perform and drink and tour and love; they eat together, so much food and so many meals – each as bright and bountiful as the imaginary dinner scene in Hook. It’s a fairytale made real, and Pedersen’s poetic voice feels custom-made to twist his words beautifully together to paint each Scott scene with love and care. “All my memories of Scott are full of joy and laughter and silliness and smuttiness, and there are these deep sentimental conversations, but always completely engulfed in humour,” he says. “He had an interesting face I’d find myself staring at more than any other face. I often was thinking about the mechanics that were going on in his mind. Even as someone who was privileged

Photo: The Portobello Bookshop

enough to have very close conversations with him, you only got what he wanted you to have. He was the care keeper of his emotions, because they were so big, abundant and encompassing.” Pedersen often found himself psychoanalysing where Scott’s face – his gaze – was taking him. He could have been anywhere. And when the news came that Scott was missing, he was everywhere and everything. In the unyielding betweentime that punctuated Scott’s disappearance and discovery, Pedersen came across an oyster shell: a bonding motif for the two friends – they published a book together called Oyster a year before Scott died. “I’ve still got it. I don’t see myself giving it away ever.” In death, we tend to give meaning to things we might not ordinarily seek out – perhaps as a way to assert control over the uncontrollable, perhaps yearning for meaning in something so uncanny. “I do it constantly and with conviction and compassion, even if it’s just to enable me to have the conversation with the world that I want to have,” says Pedersen. “If these curios and bibelots can become a vessel for me to confirm or to assure myself under the circumstances, then for sure I’ll do it.” Another night, months later, Pedersen sees Scott’s face in a disco ball – a heart-lifting way for him to communicate. “The grief comes where it comes. It’s unpredictable, it’s visceral, it’s this sort of eccentric, capricious beast of a thing, so why not take control over certain elements of that? I think it’s really important for us to do an audit of our memories and our own lives and objects and curios and how they fit into the wider kismet and cosmos of it all.” The disco ball apparition seems a fitting way to remember Scott: twirling in shattered light as music swells. A glitzy, hedonistic way to remember a friendship that brought so much glitter into two men’s lives. Boy Friends too, its vivid pinks and purples and unyielding tumblings of male love and friendship is just as sparkling, sensual, and sweet.

Faber, 7 July, £14.99

Boy Friends

“I was looking for friendships that wanted to swallow the other person up really quickly. I wanted this comrade-in-arms, this fraternal, all-encompassing bond. I wanted it immediately, and yesterday, and fast”

Michael Pedersen

Walkabout

With Wim Wenders’ masterpiece Paris, Texas back in cinemas this month, one writer explores the film’s central motif of a taciturn man trying to make amends after abandoning his life and his loved ones

Words: Rory Doherty

One of the first – and worst – plays I wrote as a teenager was a two-hander about someone announcing their desire to be adrift in space, floating into oblivion, with no connection to anything earthly. It, sadly, won me no Pulitzer Prize (rather a series of question marks in red ink from my teacher). But it did highlight a fairly common adolescent experience: finding the world utterly overwhelming from within the confines of your head, articulated in abstract ways as to not sound like you just want to die. This feeling is not by its nature masculine, and not just because no feelings are. Our awareness of the near universality of this experience has only compounded in an age where you can open Twitter or TikTok and be greeted by someone precisely describing your most private psychological distresses, framed with a flippant, “am i the only one who…?” Moreover, archaic assumptions of what behaviours are ‘masculine’ are being challenged through increased platforming of LGBTQ+ perspectives, with straight people learning how complex and fluctuating experiences outside heteronormativity can be.

Paris, Texas – Wim Wenders’ collaboration with Sam Shepard that follows a taciturn wanderer called Travis (Harry Dean Stanton) who returns from the desert and tries to mend relationships with the family he walked out on – comes from a different time (1984) and a singular vantage point: a German auteur director (Wenders) and an American dramatist (Shepard). They interrogate the American soul in a way that’s both intimately authentic and from a distinctly outsider perspective. Wenders doesn’t seem interested in classifying what behaviours are inherently masculine. When unassuming Texan Travis abandons his family to run headfirst into the surrounding expanse of the west Texas desert, only to return an amnesiac four years later, there’s no suggestion his choice to irrevocably alter the lives of his wife, son, and brother is biologically or culturally imprinted on him. Rather, what makes Travis so quintessentially masculine is not what he does to remove himself from the pain he caused others, but, upon return, how gradually aware he becomes of his own woundedness. There’s something methodical about the way Travis acclimatises himself to his own life. He’s seemingly only capable of fostering one relationship at a time. After his patient brother, Walt, displaces him to the Californian home where he’s been raising Travis’ young son, Hunter, Travis struggles to reconnect with the boy. Does he even remember what a father is? A fascination is kindled after they both watch Super 8 home movies, the past freshly illuminated to them as if it weren’t their own lives they were watching. But a side-effect of this father prioritising his son is a growing restlessness in Walt and his wife Anne. They realise that, as things threaten to shift once more, this time they risk losing more than Travis. Even though he’s come back to repair his life, Travis still can’t help pulling a family apart. This rift characterises Travis’s abilities to reform and atone. The pain he caused while present in his family’s life, and the pain he caused by leaving, is tackled in a manner that’s equally avoidant and blunt, in the process reigniting dormant wounds he’s not capable of mending. In the film’s delicate, aching final stretch, Travis runs out of places to run in a conversation of confrontation, vulnerability, and confessions with his estranged wife, Jane. Sat on either side of a pane of reflective glass in a peep-show booth, faced with literal reflections and garishly artificial decoration, the awesome landscapes of Paris, Texas feel remote and ungraspable. The space is crowded with pain, and two wounded souls won’t leave until it’s accounted for. It benefits Travis to think that his choice to disappear into the desert was a masculine urge, just as it benefits him to think it was because the vast, crowded-yet-unpeopled expanse of America was too overwhelming for said masculine person to bear. Such explanations divert from the piercingly personal truth: what hurt Travis led to him hurting others. Maybe America promises too much for the modern man, maybe the eternal lure of possibility can really be found if you venture far enough out into a deserted land, but ultimately the blame for Travis’s alienation doesn’t belong to his gender or country – it belongs to him. For some men, the option of abandoning your existence, your history, your memory isn’t just appealing. Compared to living with faults you feel are irredeemable or repairing wounds you can’t articulate, it’s preferable. I’ve listened to men describe the desire to wipe their entire life clean rather than engage in the messy process of fixing mistakes and improving faults, made more impactful by how much I recognised it as something I’ve felt myself. But how can we hope to survive by severing our access to empathy, an urge more natural than anything we think of as masculine? It was guilt that made Travis run out into the desert, and even if he didn’t know as soon as he reappeared, guilt brought him out of it too.

Paris, Texas is rereleased 29 Jul by Curzon

Glasgow Film Theatre and Filmhouse in Edinburgh are running Wim Wenders retrospectives throughout July; see the cinemas’ websites for more information

The Grand Return

After two years of limited (or non-existent) physical degree shows, defiant graduates from DJCAD, Edinburgh College of Art and Glasgow School of Art present a series of ambitious and expansive showcases

Words: Lottie Whalen

Duncan of Jordanstone, Dundee

Stepping into the studios of Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art and Design for the first in-person graduate degree show since 2019, it’s a delight to find a cohort of students with a sharpened sense of the material world and our experiences of it. The result is an often colourful, lively show incorporating immersive and experiential elements that revel in the return of physical visitors. Mixed media artist Nathan Price presents a vivid collage brought to life in three dimensions. Referencing the layers of graffiti and detritus that make up the urban environment, and with nods to Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat, Price conveys the feeling of freedom and the buzz of city streets. The overwhelming sensory experience of city life also plays out in Farah Hussain’s surreal installation. Viewers are led down a dark corridor, which opens onto a vibrant club room, complete with checkerboard dancefloor and oversized pink soft sculpture head. It’s a joyful celebration of queer nightlife and the potential of queer spaces for subverting identity.

Marly Merle’s striking wearable landscape develops similar themes of transformation, imagining the power to transport oneself to an alternative reality through avant-garde costumes. In Digital Interaction Design, Jonathan Anderson’s Clubometer – a block made to be embedded in city streets, giving live updates about the busyness, vibe, and sweatiness of nearby nightclubs – also speaks to the welcome return of nightlife and communal experiences.

Rachel Bride Ashton’s wonderfully inventive mixed-media installation playfully invites viewers to take part in rituals of the body, specifically the ‘monstrous feminine’ body she explores in ceramics, papier mâché sculpture, and film. The vulva of her sculpted squatting woman becomes a portal, with viewers compelled to lie on their backs underneath to see a film celebrating the power of birth. By bringing together human, animal, plant life and bacteria, Bride encourages us to embrace the non-human that makes up so much of our lives. Bride’s interest in ceramics, textiles, and processes of labour is echoed elsewhere in the show. Complementing Bride’s celebration of birth, Eilidh Guthrie’s multimedia installation Forest Breathing explores the body’s return to the natural environment after death. Her pit-fired sculptures uncannily resemble tree limbs and chunks of charred flesh, a powerful reminder of our return to the earth after the body’s decomposition.

Charlotte Maishman’s haunting house installation similarly stages a confrontation with mortality. Its skeletal form is made of porcelain, fastened together with steel bolts, and weighs the same as an average human body. It’s an eerie reminder of the body’s vulnerability and strength; the image of an empty house seems to symbolise the losses we’ve collectively experienced over the past few years. In the textiles department, Sandra Junele’s labour-intensive process transforms waste scraps of yarn into sculptural shapes that are then moulded into modernist modular wall panels. Rebecca Rodger’s turn to rug tufting in lockdown results in a fluid, abstract wall hanging, a work of queer craft that upturns boundaries between domestic and fine art forms. Joshua McCullough’s striking quilt pieces play with the intimate, affective qualities of the form while also reaching outwards, to open a space for sharing and support. The panels narrate McCullough’s experience of a manic episode, using detailed embroidery and appliqué techniques to cover the fabric in religious iconography and personal scenes. Drawing on the Catholic confessional, the viewer is encouraged to pin a square to the quilt, with a comment on their own experiences of mental health struggles. This moving work emphasises many of the other students’ turn to forms of making and immersive experiences that welcome participation. This optimistic, surprising show serves as a timely reminder that so much of art’s meaning is made in the material interactions between artist, artwork, and audience.

Edinburgh College of Art

At Edinburgh College of Art’s 2022 degree show, there’s a palpable sense of joy that its beautiful building has come back to life and is once again filled with ambitious, energetic work. There are few direct references to COVID in the art on display, although there is a recurring interest in spaces of dwelling and belonging. On the other hand, there are also representations of inhospitable places, betraying the impact of successive lockdowns and periods of isolation on this group of students.

Rachel Glen returns to her childhood bedroom with an installation that evokes a cosy nostalgia. A gauzy purple curtain and purple tufted rug frame a painted garden scene, where a child’s birthday party is set up; for Glen, art provides an escape to simpler times. A sense of dreamlike nostalgia runs through Mia Takemoto’s beautiful painted panels. Dynamic shapes and patterns weave between fragmented family scenes, suggestive of the Roots and Routes of the work’s title and the memories that are carried along the way. Takemoto’s technique and use of materials – tempera painted on wood veneer – draw out the work’s themes of cultural hybridity, mixing influences from the artist’s Eastern and Western heritage.

Olivia-Anna Boden’s mixed media work invites the viewer into a youthful space of fantasy and fairytale, inspired by the story of the Swan Princess. Combining embroidery, painting, and found objects, Boden creates a surrealist-inspired mythology dedicated to girlhood and its transformative potential. Her use of textiles reflects a wider interest in materiality and making that is found across many of the exhibiting students’ work. Isabella Inskip’s ethereal, silky sculptures are the product of 3D printing. By transforming natural flowers into delicate technologically produced objects, Inskip raises questions about the boundaries between the natural and the artificial, the artist and the designer. Working between painting and textiles, Jessica Austin opens up liminal spaces and gothic portals to other worlds. In her polyesterstuffed textile works, tender imprints of the body foreground touch and expand the space of the canvas outwards. In the textile department, Chloe Grieve’s Shape Play uses Bauhaus-inspired modernist forms to explore how design shapes our experiences of mental health and healthcare spaces; bold colours and lush textiles offer a less sterile, cold environment that makes hospitals and healthcare environments more hospitable, homely places. Many of the students find less comfort in the home. Rebecca Ryan’s sculptural installation Neighbours features two adjacent metal-framed houses, linked by a patch of artificial grass. Keying into ideas of access and exclusion, only one house is open to the garden space; Neighbours plays on the false equivalence created in areas of cities, where the extremes of deprivation and luxury often sit side by side. Ryan’s use of plain fabric for the houses’ structures further emphasises a sense of instability and impermanence that defines many people's relationship with home in modern society. Nearby, Lian Ryan’s green gauze maze heightens a sense of the unreality of the boundaries and structures that surround us.

Hannah Grist repurposes familiar domestic objects into strange, unhomely sculptural forms. Rusting metal radiators are bent into scarred, skeletal new shapes, or stacked to build imposing towers. A tired, grubby bathtub (complete with a

Shape Play, Chloe Grieve

tatty bar of soap) attached to four large bicycle wheels suggests an obscure instrument of torture. The title of her installation – Self-Neglect in the Comfort Zone – is a dark allusion to the self-care trend perpetuated by sanitised Instagram images, as well as the disconnect between idealised notions of home and, for many, the reality of poorly maintained, uncomfortable living spaces.

Phoebe Logan’s large vivid canvases also locate the bathroom as the focus of demands to care for and perfect the self, from a feminist perspective. Her chaotic, graffiti-style paintings show the overwhelming demands to perform femininity and the contradictory pressures to display and minimise the body that many women face. Naked figures are swept up in a swirl of confessions and declarations and sucked down the plughole. Others vomit and unashamedly display their bodies, refusing to be contained or, in Logan’s words, to be ‘dwelled upon’.

Lucy Mulholland’s wooden Cat Ladder offers a playful escape up and out of the studio, while also encouraging us to think about nonhuman experiences of everyday spaces. Similarly, Monument to Hope and Futility celebrates flies fleeing an open window, a playful symbol of the artist’s own wildness and freedom. Like many of her peers, Mulholland’s works are on a level of scale, experimentation and ambition only offered by the studio – the fact that artists and visitors alike have been welcomed back inside at last is a celebration for all.

Louis Syed-Anderson

Glasgow School of Art

2022’s final year students faced unprecedented difficulties, spending almost two years away from the studio and their creative communities. Despite this, the show is a largely optimistic and energetic affair. It’s exciting to see students of all disciplines being bold in their choice of materials and broad in examining approaches to their practices. Distance from the studio has encouraged inventive experimentation in a range of mediums, with textiles emerging as a particularly generative area.

Anuschka Barlas’s beautifully rich tapestries make full use of the medium’s slow intensity. Using Shetland wool to weave intimate self-portraits and close-up abstract fragments of the Scottish countryside, Berlas’s textile work has the dreamlike quality of distant memories recalled through a haze of nostalgia. The self becomes a landscape, woven into and from its surroundings. Nuala Ambramson turns to embroidery to create a sense of self and belonging. Working with golden thread and metallic beads, the pieces draw on Byzantine wall hangings with surprising flourishes: the flesh and bone of a rib cage, or a naked woman’s silhouette in a piece titled Petit Mort.

Anna Winther’s embroidered used napkins commemorate meals and family occasions. Decorative beaded sections mark the stains and spillages mopped up by each napkin over the course of a meal. Wither’s napkins tie craft’s labour-intensive, slow process to a reaction against the consumer culture that encourages us to throw away used items. The simple white squares evoke a sombre, ghostly atmosphere, which speaks of the many missed celebrations of the pandemic years. Not all the textile works are intimate and introspective; in fact, several of the artists working with stitching and fabrics extend their practice outward to involve other makers. Meadhbh Corrigan’s Abolition Workshop Quilt is a powerful statement of solidarity with incarcerated people and their families, made with eight other students during reading and stitching workshop sessions. A collaborative act of care that counters the cruelties of the carceral system, Corrigan’s quilt was then sold to raise funds for Glasgow Prisoner Solidarity Collective. Knitter Kitty Glover created many of their stitched creatures in collaboration with attendees of Platform’s weekly Clack and Yak group. The whimsical beasts are the product of social, intergenerational gatherings, where people exchange knowledge and skills in an informal, unacademic environment. Patchwork curtains frame Nancy Pilkington’s otherworldly installation, a childhood den made of ragged squares of pink fabric. Inside, a small sailing boat complete with a patchwork sail promises escape and adventure. Frayed seams and the tattered objects displayed inside cast this as a place of creative repair. Katie Hogg’s candycoloured installation takes a brighter and bolder approach to spaces of fantasy, using contrasting textures and soft sculptures to encourage play. Several Fine Art Photography students have also chosen to foreground the physical materiality of their medium. Louis Syed-Anderson gathers different-sized images printed on a variety of textures, arranging them across the room to form a landscape. Navigating the installation, the viewer gets up close to the detailed surfaces and materials Syed-Anderson captures as if encountering a geological structure. Spencer Dent’s Genderless combines costume, portraiture, and weaving to celebrate androgyny and nonbinary gender. Dent’s screen-printed self-portraits recall Dada Cabaret Voltaire performances and Leigh Bowery’s avant-garde costumes; their use of PVC adds a tactile edge which is emphasised further in a woven work, showing a ghoulish face stretched on an iron frame. Emerging from a time marked by isolation and physical separation, it’s unsurprising that communication and its limits emerge as another recurring theme. Kathleen Lodge finds humour and comfort in everyday phrases, some of which are specific to her native East Midlands, printed in plain text. The mass-produced objects she chooses to brand – mugs, beer bottles, beermats, cushions – evoke homely, comforting spaces. Lodge commemorates and elevates the commonplace interactions that take place in the area into something more permanent. Words become (quite literally) sharp and weighted in Tiago Rodrigues’ work, where flippant, sarcastic and nihilistic phrases become sculptural forms crafted from chains, barbed wire, and bricks. Rodrigues’ tapestry work strikes a more melancholic note: in one example, the stitched word ‘Saudade’ (from Portuguese, with no equivalent in English, referring to a deep sense of yearning) bulges from a canvas entitled Get Well Soon. Rodrigues’ mixture of hard defiance and nostalgic longing sets the tone for the show, in which an array of urgent, interesting voices emerge from the gloom, promising exciting things to come from Scotland’s new generation of artists.

Inclusive

Dance

Indepen-dance on their international inclusive dance festival, Gathered Together

Interview: Roisin O’Brien

“Anybody who is interested in cutting edge dance with a difference would be interested in this festival.” Festival administrator Dawn Hartley is talking about Gathered Together, Indepen-dance’s biennial international Inclusive Dance Festival. The festival is returning for its fourth iteration at Tramway in Glasgow Wednesday 6 until Saturday 9 July after a forced hiatus in 2020 (due to… you know what). Based in Glasgow and directed by Karen Anderson, Indepen-dance is an award-winning inclusive dance company for disabled and nondisabled people. Gathered Together has grown out of an awareness that the profile of inclusive dance within Scotland needs to be raised, explains Hartley, as well as a drive to bring international work to the stage in Glasgow so that people can connect to it. There is something unique about a festival, Hartley explains. “It’s a really lovely opportunity for the dancers to see that this is something they can aim for. There’s a real sense of togetherness.” Additionally, “within the sector, it becomes a ‘mustdo’. There’s a lot of networking, especially after such a long time apart, and a lot of re-establishing things.” The festival comprises performances from Scottish companies such as Birds of Paradise Theatre Company and Barrowland Ballet, and international artists. Curtis and Co from Germany present Exploring Borders, where three dancers and an acrobat explore their own borders, while Resident Island Dance Theatre from Taiwan present Ice Age, an international inclusive choreographic collaboration between visually-impaired choreographer Chung-An Chang and disabled choreographer Maylis Arrabit. There are also workshops for professionals and members of the public, and all workshops and performances will be audio described and BSL interpreted. The festival also includes exhibitions from Project Ability artists and dancer Dylan Lombard from Young 1’z (Indepen-dance’s youth company), as well as films, including Irish integrated dance company Croí Glan’s Armour Off which won Best Documentary at Catalyst Film Festival. ConCuerpos from Colombia are one of these international collaborations. The company is directed by Laisvie Ochoa and is the pioneering inclusive dance company in Colombia, she explains. Ochoa and others were inspired to start the company in 2007 after they invited people from the pioneering Candoco Dance Company (an inclusive dance company based in England) to direct an integrated dance workshop. Since then, they have been working in three main areas: education, artistic, and research. Ochoa is heartened by the change she has seen in Colombia since their formation: “We have influenced dance a lot because now in other companies we see the participation of people with disabilities. Not that the companies call

Image: courtesy of Tramway

themselves inclusive but that they are open to include different types of people, which for us is wonderful as we see more presence of artists with disabilities in different contemporary dance festivals.” One of the projects ConCuerpos is bringing to the festival is a work-in-progress looking at disability and dance in COVID times. At the time of speaking, Ochoa happily states that they are very much “in the middle of it!”, taking joy in that uncertainty that comes from being deep in the creative process. The company had been doing a lot of work through online and digital mediums even before the pandemic, so were able to jump into a remote way of working with relative ease. They were then put in touch with Nancy Lombard, a Reader in It's a Must, Clare and Lesley Social Policy and Sociology at Glasgow Caledonian University, who began research to examine the role of dancing in the lives of disabled people during lockdown in Scotland and Colombia. Lombard’s son is a member of Young 1’z. The resulting creative and research collaboration between them has been a series of online workshops, which will culminate in an in-person workshop when they all physically meet in Scotland, before a final performance. Ochoa is very excited for them all finally to meet: working online has been great, but also a bit “weird” as during the workshop “you are so excited, you finish the phone call and then… you are alone in your room.” ConCuerpos are also bringing their work IRA, which translates as ‘rage’ in Spanish. The first part is directed by Diana León and the second by Ochoa, both working with the same dancers, composer and lighting designer. León’s part focuses on how rage emerges from a very subjective place, “how this feeling emerges in the face of social injustice and makes you move, like a motor source” states Ochoa. Ochoa’s directed part looks at rage from a collective point of view. Ochoa chose to focus on one event in Colombia’s history: 9 April 1948, also called El Bogotazo. The presidential candidate Jorge Eliécer Gaitán – who “advocated for the underdogs”, explains Ochoa – was assassinated, which sparked a wave of violent riots across the city and began a period in Colombia known as ‘La Violencia.’ “A collective rage took over, it was a huge social explosion.” Ochoa noticed that this sort of explosion had happened several times throughout Colombia’s history and in response to different injustices. “I wanted to analyse it. What are we going to do with all this rage?” By putting it on stage, “we need to see it to somehow understand it – in order to heal.” Threaded throughout the festival are performances from Indepen-dance’s different performance groups. “A big focus for the whole of Indepen-dance”, continues Hartley, “is to provide the chance for their dancers to show off their work on an international stage, with international performers – it’s so exciting for them.” The Adult Performance Company performing on Wednesday night are premiering Aya Kobayashi’s Huddle. “It’s got a lovely soundtrack,” enthuses Hartley. “I was sitting in the hall outside the rehearsal studio a few weeks ago just listening to the amazing music. [Aya] did say ‘it’s based around the lives of penguins’. And when I said that sounded interesting, she looked at me to say: ‘YES. It’s going to work!’ I’m quite intrigued by that, Aya’s work is always so sensitive and on-the-button, it gets you right there.” One work that has been in the making since before the pandemic is Entwined. Directed by former Scottish Ballet principal dancer Eve Mutso, and featuring striking visuals and a new score from composer J.P Waksman, it is performed by Independance’s Small Ensemble performance group on the Saturday evening. Mutso will also perform later that evening with Joel Brown in 111, an intricately crafted duet between two powerful dancers. Performing in Entwined is Julie Spence, who has been working with Indepen-dance since 2015, first as Creative Dance Assistant and now as a Dance Worker. With Entwined having been on pause for many years, Spence is looking forward to that sense of ‘achievement’ when the group finally manage to perform it: “It’s going to be magical!” Mutso would regularly come to rehearsals to watch the group practice. From there, Spence explains, Mutso was able to create movements or creative tasks that she felt would show off the strengths of each individual dancer. There is a very strong connection within the group: “We all have that passion for dance and it makes you feel secure and trust in your own movements.” It’s an enthusiasm and passion that seeps through the organisation and all those who speak for it. For Spence, there will likely be some “happy tears” on the night.

Gathered Together 2022, Tramway, 6-9 Jul

Photo: Huang Jyong Jhe

Road Less Travelled

Iranian filmmaker Panah Panahi – the son of Jafar Panahi – makes his debut with bittersweet family road movie Hit the Road. He speaks to us about creating cinema within Iran’s oppressive regime and the importance of combining heartbreak with humour

Interview: Nathaniel Ashley

For many in Iran, fleeing the country and its authoritarian regime seems to be the only way to find freedom. Yet in director Panah Panahi’s debut film, Hit the Road, that desperation to escape is tinged by the sadness and guilt that comes from leaving behind the people you love. The film initially seems to be following a family on a simple road trip, but it quickly becomes clear they are attempting to smuggle their eldest son out of the country. Despite its heavy subject matter, Hit the Road is surprisingly sprightly, full of familial bickering between the eldest son and his irascible father. Ahead of the film’s release, we speak to Panahi about the current political atmosphere of Iran, and how he discovered Raylan Sarlak, the 11-year-old who plays the family’s irrepressible youngest child.

How much is Hit the Road about the things that are left unsaid? What remains unsaid is at the heart of our culture, even above politics or the current situation. Iranian culture is a social structure in which you cannot be honest, you cannot express your opinions or needs or your reactions. You always have to think about what’s acceptable socially. I mean, the relationship between the father and (eldest) son is something I’ve experienced, you cannot just express freely how you feel. You don’t even know how you feel, because you first know what you’re allowed to say or not allowed to say, before realising what you actually feel. This has structured our way of being, our way of feeling, so much so that it is a part of our DNA. Above that, there is the political structure which is also extremely oppressive and defined by its restrictions. It’s not that I’ve decided to make a film about what’s been left unsaid, it’s that when I’m telling the story I see what options remain for me, and the things you cannot say, what you can say. That becomes my material in my film.

Do you think there’s an element of guilt that stays with people who do leave Iran? I think it depends on how you see yourself in life and how you see yourself in society, but I think for myself, whenever I try and consider this option of leaving the country, this is what makes me hesitate, this is what makes me wonder if I would feel bad once I saved my own life. I wonder if I wouldn’t feel that I would have been more useful in my own country for my own society.

Rayan Sarlak is an absolute force of nature – how did you find him and what was it like directing him? I was extremely lucky to meet this child. He was the third kid that I saw, and immediately when I saw the energy that he had, this ease that he had in being with others and talking with people, I said: “This kid I need.” I didn’t even audition him, to keep his freshness and spontaneity. He had no script and he could not read. So every morning, it was his mother who would read it to him and he would start learning his lines and once he knew them, I would take him aside and start playing with him, joking with him, talking with him to make him reach the appropriate level of energy for the scene of the day. Once he had this

“What remains unsaid is at the heart of Iranian culture”

Panah Panahi

level I would just send him on the set. As soon as I went to him to say that something had to be a bit more subtle, he immediately understood it. He even suggested to me how to improve some of the moments where it’s all a bit too heavy; he had an intuition every day. I think he’s the most impressive genius I’ve worked with.

Hit the Road is a film that combines whimsy with great sadness. What makes the combination of comedy and tragedy so potent? That’s really how I experience life. The films that I like, the films that I find lifelike, both aspects are there, tragedy and comedy, laughter and tears. If there’s only laughter or only crying, it’s quite monotonous and boring for me. The interest is the combination of both and this is also how I see life. That’s my character and my way of expression. I’ve seen it in my own life, in the happiest moments of my life, how easily I can all of a sudden switch to my darkest mood, and also when everything is really bad, how I still keep this hope and this ability to laugh about things.

Hit the Road is released 29 Jul by Picturehouse Entertainment and reviewed on p. 55

An Evening in Edinburgh

Edinburgh’s incredible architecture comes to life at night, with awesome bars, delicious food and unique experiences to enjoy

Words by: The Skinny

Exploring Edinburgh is fascinating, but exploring a compact hilly city can mean a bit of walking. The good news is Edinburgh is full of great places to wind down and spend your evening, from rooftop bars overlooking the city, to one-of-akind restaurants in unexpected settings.

Unique restaurants

Edinburgh’s Old Town is a warren of closes and wynds, with truly spectacular locations for an evening meal. The Witchery (352 Castlehill) is a stunningly swanky Edinburgh institution, all 17th century oak panelling, baroque flourishes, and equally exciting food. Roxburgh Court has undergone a dramatic transformation in recent years, and El Cartel Mexicana are one of the new residents. The Edinburgh-owned Mexican restaurant has a fantastic vibe and excellent options for fans of tacos and margaritas, just off the Royal Mile.

In Leith, The Pitt street food market (125 Pitt St) offers the chance to spend your evening with an alfresco beer in their courtyard and dinner from some of Scotland’s best food trucks. In Tollcross, Timberyard (10 Lady Lawson St) plays host to some inventive cooking in a 19th century props warehouse, with a great view of Edinburgh Castle waiting outside. In the New Town, Noto (47a Thistle St) is tucked away between Rose Street and George Street, but if you can find it, it’s a cool minimalist space serving brilliant small plates.

Cosy pubs and cocktails

Edinburgh is home to some of the very best cocktail bars in the UK, and a group of them are clumped together in the New Town. There’s Bramble (16a Queen St), an underground speakeasy with moody lighting and brilliant cocktails; Lucky Liquor Co (39a Queen St) is bright and breezy upstairs with a pool room downstairs; Panda and Sons (79 Queen St) is hidden behind the pretence of being a barber’s shop, but inside it’s a warren-like bar with excellent drinks.

Elsewhere, Paradise Palms (41 Lothian St) is an all-action dive bar in the Southside with incredible neon decor and a charming outdoor patio. The Raging Bull (161 Lothian Rd) has an outrageously bright yellow exterior and no fewer than six variations of the espresso martini. If you want a taste of Italian aperitivo, head to Hey Palu (49 Bread St); the wine list is fantastic and the negronis are exceptional.

For a relaxing pint, Cloisters (26 Brougham St) serves up delicious ales in a building designed by Robert Rowand Anderson, the architect responsible for Bristo Square and the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. Teuchters (26 William St) is a rustic nook in the middle of the West End, ideal for a whisky by the fire. Down by the Shore, Carriers Quarters (42 Bernard St) is thought to be the neighbourhood’s oldest pub, while Nobles (44a Constitution St) is a classy and elegant slice of Victoriana with expertly-restored stained glass windows to let in that golden hour light.

Photo: Forever Edinburgh

Beer gardens and rooftop bars

When the weather cooperates, Edinburgh has a great mix of street-side beer gardens and rooftop bars to check out. The Beehive in Grassmarket has a spacious and secluded beer garden beneath the castle, while Cold Town House offers a unique rooftop view complete with repurposed ski lifts for seating. Elsewhere in the Old Town, the Nor’ Loft bar in the new Market Street Hotel (6 Market St) has a great city view and a champagne selection to go with it.

Down at The Shore, Teuchters Landing (1c Dock Pl) is truly unique – how many bars have their own pontoon? Grab a pint or a single malt, and hover gently over the water. Over in the New Town, the beer garden at the Cumberland Bar is always lively with students and locals enjoying the sun in the shade of a frankly enormous willow tree. Rooftop 51 at the Moxy hotel on Fountainbridge offers a different vantage point, and the Royal Dick bar at Summerhall is a sprawling suntrap alive with buzz from the arts venue. At the border of Leith and the New Town, the Glass House Hotel’s rooftop area is vast, tranquil, and gives a great view down Leith Walk.

Things to see and do

Edinburgh is packed with well-programmed and characterful cinemas – take your pick from the art deco, family-run Dominion in Morningside, the century-old Cameo Cinema in Tollcross, or the brand-new Everyman Cinema at the St James Quarter with its cocktail bar and at-seat service. Filmhouse on Lothian Road is also excellent, bringing together films from around the world under one roof.

If you’re feeling more active, a private karaoke booth at Supercube in the New Town and Cowgate or the retro arcade games and drinks at NQ64 on Lothian Road, might be up your street. Ghillie Dhu runs regular ceilidh nights if you really want to burn off your dinner, or if you’re feeling more cerebral, take a trip to the Royal Observatory on Blackford Hill for s ome stargazing.

As well as those options, one of the best ways to spend an Edinburgh evening is being out and about among the city’s incredible history and architecture. Edinburgh is incredibly photogenic no matter the weather (be sure to tag #ForeverEdinburgh in your snaps). Head up the Royal Mile to the Castle Esplanade and look down on the city at dusk; walk through Holyrood Park and see Arthur’s Seat and the Crags catching the last of the light; or journey up Calton Hill for the sunset.

Discover more places to go and things to do in Edinburgh at edinburgh.org

Photo: Forever Edinburgh

Teuchters Landing

Photo: Forever Edinburgh

Royal Mile

Photo: Forever Edinburgh July 2022

Perspective on Life

We speak with Working Men’s Club’s Syd Minsky-Sargeant to find out more about the Yorkshire band’s forthcoming second album, Fear Fear

Interview: Sam Moore

Syd Minsky-Sargeant is an enigmatic presence. The Working Men’s Club leader heads up one of the most curious band dynamics in Britain. Officially a four-piece along with Liam Ogburn, Hannah Cobb and Mairead O’Connor, Minsky-Sargeant is the only one playing on the group’s desolate synth-pop second album Fear Fear, an ambitious advancement on their self-titled debut that sounds as if Giorgio Moroder had a lovechild with New Order. Refusing to be drawn too deeply into the inner workings of the group, Minsky-Sargeant says firmly: “No one else plays on the record. Not to be dismissive of the band, because they inspire me in other walks of life, but the recording process is just me.” Following the acrimony around the first release that saw two original members of the band depart in less than pleasant circumstances, Minsky-Sargeant is much happier now with the lineup, and how the current crop have accepted their role is to gravitate around his creative force: “It works well the way it does.” The prodigal 20-year-old started working on Fear Fear not long after the 2020 release of their self-titled debut during the peaks of the pandemic. On the surface, it’s a piece of work that, while undoubtedly personal, reflects the milieu of anxiety, restlessness and division that has permeated through society over the last two years. It is of course a time where there is a lot to be fearful of; whether that be COVID’s sustainability or the renewed threat of nuclear war or rampaging inflation, Fear Fear is a sign of the times. While Minsky-Sargeant admits the unprecedented events of recent times influenced him “definitely up to a point”, he says the inspiration for the gloomy material on Fear Fear is coming from his own “personal perspective”. He adds: “Not to dismiss the big things going on but it’s more my own thoughts in relation to what I’ve suffered with, and my existential anger with what’s going on in the world.”

Fear Fear is a body of work that does confront a 21st century angst in really quite direct terms. In particular, Money Is Mine pulses with a repetitive hook about mental health but MinskySargeant is evasive when it comes to how directly it was drawn from his own experiences. “It’s a song that’s not necessarily specific to me,” he says, “but it’s not necessarily from anyone’s perspective. It doesn’t have to be about me.”

Fear Fear also seems to build on a central theme from the debut – disconsolate frustration at small town life. On Circumference he sings: ‘Walking around this futile place / Such a disaster uneducated’. He describes it as his “perspective on life”, that he wouldn’t want it to be “wider than my own viewpoint”, stressing that he is not putting down small towns in general, just that he didn’t always have it happy in Todmorden, the quiet market town in West Yorkshire where he grew up.

Photo: Lillie Eiger

“I do enjoy juxtaposing lyrics and music at the same time. It’s nice. It’s quite funny in a dark way to show both sides of something”

Syd Minsky-Sargeant, Working Men’s Club

For all the downbeat lyricism, Fear Fear is an album that booms and grooves with euphoric synths and bouncing rhythms that wouldn’t be out of place at a rave in the middle of an industrial estate. Minsky-Sargeant says it was deliberate to create a dissonance between the fatalistic lyrical content and the booming sonics: “I do enjoy juxtaposing lyrics and music at the same time. It’s nice. It’s quite funny in a dark way to show both sides of something in a way people wouldn’t expect.” It’s been nothing short of a whirlwind few years for the young man. Some of the tracks that made it onto Working Men’s Club’s first album were penned when he was just 16, and getting signed shortly after he experienced the chaos of the music industry at a breakneck pace without getting the opportunity to find himself and his sound with few onlookers. But he says it’s an experience he wouldn’t change for anything: “It’s been surreal but I guess there’s no right way or wrong way of doing it as it’s all I know. A lot of good stuff has come over the last two years. I’ve got to release two albums and people are listening to them. My job is to make music and I feel fortunate to do so.” Minsky-Sargeant is a restless spirit, always creating, always tinkering, always searching for that piece of technology that can best communicate his feelings. When we speak he’s in the studio working on tunes, a process he commits to most days. Is he starting to put together the skeleton for album three? He won’t say but we can’t wait to hear what it is.

Fear Fear is released on 15 Jul via Heavenly Recordings

Weights and Measures

We chat with Belfast’s Robocobra Quartet and discuss everything from capturing the energy of their live shows on their new record to why Ed Sheeran should try something new

Interview: Max Pilley

Ask almost anyone in the Northern Ireland music community to name the most under-appreciated band in the region and you’ll hear the same name over and again: Robocobra Quartet. Led by drummer/vocalist Chris W. Ryan, they have been mainstays on the live music circuit for a decade now, performing a freewheeling collision of loose jazz and driving post-punk. Their third album, Living Isn’t Easy, is their most cohesive body of work to date, melding the two poles of the band’s musical identity into one fearsome, steamrolling juggernaut. There are – for now – six permanent members of this ‘quartet’, although for each performance they stick strictly to a rotating four-musician lineup. Just as the personnel vary from night to night, so too do the flavours of music on offer: one week you’ll find them in a concert hall at a European jazz festival, the next in a sweaty underground indie venue, both equally natural homes. Their enviable live reputation stems from their willingness to embrace the infinite possibilities that on-stage improvisation can offer, and for the new album, they channel that stage version of the band into the studio setting. “I love hardcore and punk bands like Bad Brains and the Ramones who made killer debut albums that they recorded in a day, because it was just their live show,” says Ryan. “The live thing is usually where we really win fans, so this time we thought, why don’t we really try to capture some of that energy.” It makes for an intoxicating listen, where tracks can swing from a vibrant, jaunty skip to a crashing, swirling headspin on a whim. Ryan’s vocals, meanwhile, are delivered in such spoken, conversational tones that the listener can feel as though they are intruding on his personal diary entries. “Sometimes the spoken word can be quite melodramatic or artificial,” says Ryan, “but for me, I just love all those little interesting things about the voice when we speak to each other. I like mining those adages and colloquialisms.” Far from a contrived style, Ryan’s delivery serves to accentuate the lyrical themes that dominate Living Isn’t Easy: the helplessness associated with navigating a way through late-stage capitalism as a young creative, the crushing reality of the housing crisis and, most pointedly, the mental health pandemic (the band members’ own antidepressant doses were etched into the runout groove of their 7” Wellness single). “I’m actually quite a positive person,” Ryan argues. “I have this optimistic nihilism. What makes me comfortable is that nothing matters, and so there is freedom in that.” It is an attitude that explains the album’s centrepiece, Chromo Sud, on which our protagonist wails against the impossibility of owning his own home over an agitated, taut arrangement, before the track blossoms into an expansive,

Photo: Colin Armstrong

Robocobra Quartet

“If you spend your whole life eating McDonald’s, why not try some Korean food or go to the Asian supermarket?”

Chris W. Ryan, Robocobra Quartet freeform maelstrom of warring saxophones in a therapeutic, cleansing and ultimately joyful relief of tension. It is the one track where the band allowed for substantial in-studio improvisation and it reaps dividends. “Chromo Sud is very much a catharsis,” says tenor saxophonist Thibault Barillon. “I didn’t approach it intellectually as such, it’s about what it feels like.” “For me, you’ve got to have positivity,” replies Ryan. “A lot of our stuff has light and shade. We’re not a gothic band, there might be moments of weight, but there will be moments of light and levity too, that’s just what life is like.” The band, who formed while studying at the Sonic Arts Research Centre (SARC) at Queen’s University Belfast, have a mischievous ‘no guitar’ policy to their membership. “Guitars can be used for good or evil,” Ryan explains. “Look at Richard Dawson and his beautiful use of guitar, but then look at fucking Ed Sheeran or a billion boring, shite guitar bands that are bland and recreating something from the 70s. Anyone can play guitar, but why don’t they play harp? Try something else! If you spend your whole life eating McDonald’s, why not try some

Korean food or go to the Asian supermarket?” Robocobra Quartet’s music instead revels in its bass and saxophone leads, and the precious spaces in between. Ryan’s full-time work as a music producer and engineer – he has helmed recent projects by fellow Irish bands Just Mustard, NewDad and Enola Gay – heightens his appreciation for the minutiae of recorded music and, as he puts it, the musical Trojan Horse, or “stealing little interesting ideas from the avant-garde and encasing them into what we are.” That embrace of the experimental mindset, along with the band’s particular combination of styles, makes it no surprise that they were cited as an early influence by the all-pervasive Black Country, New Road, a link the band are more than comfortable with. “When we were trying to sell our first album,” says Ryan, “nobody knew how to describe our music. Now, it’s like, cool, it sounds like Squid or Black Country, New Road. If it pushes people forward into being interested in strange new music, then let’s do it. I’m happy to be the Daniel Johnston to someone else’s Nirvana.” Living Isn’t Easy is out now via First Taste Records Robocobra Quartet play Broadcast Glasgow on 28 Aug robocobraquartet.com

, Nathanial Russel FLWRPWRS

Best Practice

With an aim to make Scotland’s music festivals safer for all, we chat with POWA, Fanny Riot and Popgirlz about the launch of Friendly Festivals in Scotland

Interview: Ashley Stein Illustration: Viki Mladenovski

A2018 YouGov poll found that 43% of female music festival goers under 40 had experienced unwanted sexual behaviour, with only 2% of incidents being reported to the police. The statistics were shocking, especially considering the Association of Independent Festivals had launched its charter of best practice, aimed at tackling sexual violence at festivals, just one year prior. Four years on, perhaps due to little evidence of change, AIF has relaunched its charter, with 103 UK music festivals signing up. In Scotland, however, it has taken the joint effort of three activist groups to work towards inciting real change. POWA (Protection of Women in the Arts), Fanny Riot and Popgirlz have collaborated to create Friendly Festivals in Scotland (FFS), a dataset detailing which Scottish music festivals have clear policy published on their website about the prevention of sexual harassment and assault. Before publishing the dataset, FFS contacted each festival, giving them the opportunity to commit to publishing a clear sexual harassment policy on their website. Shockingly, only one festival – HebCelt – had a visible policy before FFS was launched. The dataset offers a new way for ticket buyers, performers and staff to see what festivals are committed to safeguarding against sexual harassment. Edinburgh-based musician and activist Lou Mclean tells us why having access to this information is so important: “Almost every female musician, staff member and attendee I know has experienced some form of harassment or assault at a festival. Backed by the YouGov research, and supported by other organisations, we have a chance to make Scotland’s festivals safer. Although the literature focuses on cis women, I know genderqueer people and men who have also experienced this. It’s important for all of us to make a stand and say this is not acceptable. It never was, we were just expected to put up with it.” FFS is based on Fanny Riot’s FLAPS project which supports Scottish Music Festivals to make their 'event' safer by being “present at festivals with a safer space tent, engaging with the public and providing on-site first responders to any sexual misconduct issues” says Marie Williamson of Fanny Riot. “FLAPS has one rhetoric – consent and respect – and we want festivals to ensure they are being visible and proactive in this too. FLAPS has been met with resistance; some say their festival doesn’t need a safer space as they are already doing enough. Unfortunately, this isn’t the case when looking at the statistics and listening to personal stories. There are those, however, who are

fully on board, like Kelburn Garden Party who we are currently working with.” Popgirlz were brought into FFS due to their 2020 Scotify campaign, where diversity issues were highlighted within Spotify’s ‘Scotify’ playlist, and their lecture series which breaks down Vick Bain’s Counting the Music Industry research and discusses inequalities within playlisting. Popgirlz founder Rachel Alice Johnson says: “FFS is a crucial campaign that aims to ensure the safety and health of attendees and workers at Scottish music festivals. Festivals should be fun and sociable, where music can be enjoyed safely.” The FFS dataset will be updated monthly and has already received positive responses from TRNSMT, Hidden Door and Celtic Connections. As POWA states: “FFS wants to stop predatory behaviour at festivals and having a sexual harassment policy clearly displayed will hopefully prevent someone being assaulted this summer. It’s that black and white. Prevention-based approaches like policies and education programmes are the world standard for tackling gender-based violence.” Evidently, good intentions in the form of signposting to support services is not enough, and a sexual harassment policy is worthless if it’s not visible to ticket buyers, staff and performers. Music festivals must prove they can provide a safe and enjoyable experience for all by providing clear policy, “Festivals should be fun investing in safeguarding training, and ultimately taking responsibility for and sociable, where music what happens at their event. The safe, supportive and inclusive music induscan be enjoyed safely” try we want is attainable, but only if those at the top are willing to make Rachel Johnson, Popgirlz changes that benefit everyone.

Four more organisations tackling sexual assault and harassment in the music industry

Girls Against Girls Against is a non-profit that stands up against sexual assault and misogyny in the live music scene, and acts as a support network for victims. girlsagainst.co.uk

Good Night Out Campaign The Good Night Out Campaign helps nightlife spaces and organisations better understand, respond to and prevent sexual harassment and assault, through specialist training, policy support and an accreditation programme. goodnightoutcampaign.org

Gig Safe Glasgow Gig Safe Glasgow is a non-profit that hosts help desks within venues to tackle issues such as harassment and discrimination, as well as to provide a general sense of security to whoever is in need. gigsafeglasgow.co.uk

Association of Indpendent Festivals The Association of Independent Festivals is the UK’s leading non-profit festival trade association and creator of a charter of best practice aimed at tackling sexual violence at festivals. aiforg.com

If you run a festival and want to talk with FFS, email: info@friendlyfests.com

Lucked Out

Record label and design studio LuckyMe celebrates its 15th anniversary this year, so we looked back at its history, from its early days on MySpace to its game-changing releases

Words: Nadia Younes Image: LuckyMe

Cast your minds back to 2007, an undeniably huge year for pop culture. It was the year the first ever iPhone was launched, Preston walked off Never Mind the Buzzcocks, Britney shaved her head, and Ross Birchard – better known as Hudson Mohawke – launched his Valentine’s Slow Jams series with then little known record label LuckyMe. Birchard revived the series in February this year, following a five-year hiatus and marking its 15th anniversary. The series began and continues to be presented by LuckyMe – the record label and design studio co-founded by Birchard alongside Dominic Flannigan, Martyn Flyn and Mike Slott – which has gone on to become one of the most influential record labels of the last decade. LuckyMe’s roots date as far back as 2002, when Flyn first came up with the name, and it existed in different guises in the years following; as a club night in Glasgow and an EP title for a joint project between Birchard and Flannigan. But LuckyMe officially became an entity on 7 July 2007, when it launched its first website. The label’s first official release came in October that same year with Hudson Mohawke’s Ooops! EP, released in collaboration with Glasgow’s Wireblock Records – which later went on to become one of the three labels that formed Numbers – and Rub A Dub.

“The chopped and skewed visual aesthetic mimicked the wonky electronic/hip-hop hybrid sounds the label was producing” “Making its way up during the age of MySpace, LuckyMe was ‘internet’ before it became a subculture”

During this time, the label was also showcasing its artist roster through a series of club nights across Scotland. Some of its earliest club nights took place at Edinburgh’s Octopus Diamond – now known as The Mash House – as part of the label’s brief LuckyMe: Drums party series. It’s at these parties in Edinburgh where Flannigan and Flyn met close label affiliate Russell Whyte, better known as Rustie, who co-founded LuckyMe’s club offshoot in Glasgow, Ballers Social Club, alongside promoter Joe Coghill. From the off, LuckyMe had a distinct visual identity, incorporating Flannigan’s art school background. The chopped and skewed visual aesthetic mimicked the wonky electronic/hip-hop hybrid sounds the label was producing. It felt like an underground take on the stuttering productions pioneered by Timbaland, who was riding high in the charts at the time and whom Birchard has cited as one of his favourite producers. Making its way up during the age of MySpace, LuckyMe was ‘internet’ before it became a subculture. Before the birth of SoundCloud rappers and TikTok sensations, there were MySpace bands and Tumblr girls. As the very first social media platform to reach a global audience, MySpace allowed the label to put out releases whenever and however they saw fit and enabled them to transcend location; to not be bound by one genre or place. And as LuckyMe’s presence started to grow online, so too did its artist roster. With a quick glance at the label’s discography over the years, you’ll find a who’s who of experimental electronic artists from Scotland and beyond. Jacques Greene, Lunice, Baauer, Machinedrum and S-Type are among those with multiple releases on the label, but it’s Birchard who is perhaps LuckyMe’s biggest success story. After signing to Warp Records to release his debut album Butter in 2009 – for which fellow LuckyMe alumni Konx-om-Pax designed the artwork – Birchard began to gain more mainstream success but kept close ties with LuckyMe. So when it came to releasing his debut EP with TNGHT – a collaborative project between himself and Canadian producer Lunice – in 2012, the two labels joined forces. TNGHT, quite literally, changed the game, and the big names came knocking. Birchard was swiftly signed to Kanye West’s G.O.O.D. Music imprint as a producer and enlisted to produce tracks on West’s 2013 album Yeezus and its 2016 follow-up The Life of Pablo. This brought about further interest, and he went on to produce more tracks for some of the biggest names in hip-hop, including Drake, Lil Wayne and Azealia Banks. In the meantime, Flannigan and Flyn were being made offers to sign over the rights to LuckyMe from some of the biggest record labels going, but they refused. Since then, the pair have continued to run LuckyMe between offices in Edinburgh and London but with an artist roster that spans across the globe, and the label has been responsible for some of the most interesting and innovative releases of the last decade. It has also expanded its work in the design world, branching out further into photography, videography, installation, creative direction and fashion. Over the last 15 years, LuckyMe has set the standard for independent record labels across the world and helped define the sound of a generation, without ever giving up what it stands for and always remaining two steps ahead.

Wet, Wet, Wet

Stand-up and podcast star Alison Spittle talks to us about her newest Edinburgh Fringe show, the importance of context, and only a little bit about poo

Interview: Louis Cammell

On her own birthday, Alison Spittle is in her room, on Zoom, very generously giving us her time. It’s the same room she lived in throughout lockdown, only with more in it. “I’m just sort of surrounded by gravestones of hobbies that I thought I could do,” she says. This year, with things looking more optimistic, her mind is on the Fringe. “Edinburgh suddenly feels very real now. The whole process of writing the show and promoting the show.” But she’s set on not losing out on the joyousness of the Fringe: “I don’t see the point in just not going mad this year. Because we get told constantly, you know, there’s war, there’s going to be a cost of living crisis, everything is bad. But just to have fun will be great. Shit happens but essentially we’re going to be at the biggest arts festival in the world. I’m scared of the financial aspect of it of course, but I recommend it to everyone: Just have a great summer this year. Because if you have a bad summer this year, it’s not going to help you in the winter.” Spittle’s finding the promotional aspect particularly difficult though. “It’s very surreal, trying to promote your comedy show without giving too much away.” Part of the issue is people expect her to always be in joke-machine mode; the one she enters when writing for TV shows like Have I Got News For You. “I did [a talk show] yesterday in Ireland. Everything is supposed to be funny but… there’s a bit in my new show [Wet] about contraception and how a contraceptive had destroyed my mental health at one point. And they were like, ‘Oh yeah, tell us more about the coil!’ And in my head I’m like, ‘no but this is live, I can’t tell people [that stuff when] there’s a man cooking a stir-fry...nearby.” And the preconception doesn’t just follow her onto television. “I went to a funeral once and a close relative of mine was like, ‘No fucking jokes today, Alison!’ and I was like, ‘No, I am a human, I’m capable of knowing what’s appropriate and what’s not.’” Perhaps her BBC Sounds podcast Wheel of Misfortune, replete with countless stories of defecation that she and Fern Brady (and now a guest co-host) gleefully read out, has contributed to this occasional perception of Spittle as ‘puerile’, as the Daily Mail put it. (“I love that [they] called us [that]. I was like, yeah you’re correct.”) She’s even picked up her own IRL poo anecdote. “I’ve had an audience member shit themselves at a Fringe show,” she says with only minor prompting. “A reviewer had come in… [I got] three stars and d’you know what? Fair.” She leans into a self-deprecating caricature throughout the conversation. “Essentially I’m just a clown,” Spittle says at one point. But anyone who has heard her on The Guilty Feminist podcast knows that she’s more than just a jester. The show has a die-hard listenership that she praises for taking real-life action against the topics discussed on the show, such as the UK Police and Crime Bill; a series of controversial changes to the way protests are policed that would come into effect this April. “The policing bill [discussed in episode 247] was something that really interested me,” she says, “because it’s an actual attack on free speech, essentially, and comedians go on about free speech all the time. It drives me mad that I think some people equate freedom of speech with slurs that they could say years ago and they’re not able to say now. And it’s like, there’s actual curtailing of freedom of speech happening now and the government are involved and [they] don’t seem to care about that.” The contrast between current affairs and crass has laid the path for her new show. “I was originally going to make it fun,” she says, “but now it’s also about violence and other stuff.” As Spittle says though, “There’s a distrust of people who find lots of stuff funny all the time. [It’s why] context is so [important]. I love doing stand-up at The Pleasance and I love doing it in a room but like, if I did it on a bus I’d get sectioned.”

Alison Spittle: Wet, 3-28 Aug, 4.45pm, Pleasance Courtyard

Follow Spittle on Twitter @AlisonSpittle, Instagram @alisonspittle, and listen to both Wheel of Misfortune and The Guilty Feminist wherever you get your podcasts

Photo: Karla Gowlett

I’ve Got a Bad Feeling About This

Recent Star Wars films and shows have struggled to deliver the mythic tropes that fans desire without feeling like they’re retreading old ground. How does the new Disney+ series Obi-Wan Kenobi fare?

Words: Ben Nicholson

When Disney bought Lucasfilm in 2012, the potential of a rejuvenated Star Wars brand seemed infinite. A decade on, a patchy record has seen ambition curtailed – particularly on the big screen – amid a growing sense that the company doesn’t quite know how to handle its prized property. When The Force Awakens was released in 2015, reactions primarily ranged from broad enjoyment to ecstatic rapture, but within the dissenting voices, often cited was a feeling of déjà vu in the film’s re-tread of overly familiar story beats. This very issue has come to be something of a defining quandary during the following seven years of Star Wars projects: how to move forwards while also paying homage to, and capitalising on the cultural cache of, the existing stories. This predicament has come to the fore in various guises: moments of fan service like Darth Vader’s explosive cameo in Rogue One; vitriolic responses to Rian Johnson’s defying of expectation in The Last Jedi; laboured and unimaginative placatory decisions that plagued the next instalment, The Rise of Skywalker. The same dichotomy was evident in the best and worst moments of recent Disney+ shows The Book of Boba Fett and The Mandalorian – the latter is held up as an example of Lucasfilm managing to strike the right balance. This ongoing issue has recently resurfaced in the shape of Ewan McGregor’s return in the limited series Obi-Wan Kenobi. It is not McGregor’s return itself that has caused umbrage. While the prequel films were often lambasted, McGregor’s portrayal of a young Alec Guinness was considered a highlight by many. However, the notion of a series depicting a period in which that character is, canonically, a hermit living in the desert, left some significantly less than enthused. New Star Wars films seem to have been placed on indefinite hiatus but the Disney+ upcoming roster is overflowing with familiar names in titles like The Book of Boba Fett, Andor and Ahsoka. It’s difficult to disagree with the underlying point and there is no denying that forcing stories to navigate in increasingly labyrinthine narrative spaces with predetermined conclusions runs the risk of becoming tiresome. There is also, though, the consideration that Star Wars trades in a marriage of the new and the familiar, and it always has. In recent times, there has been regular reference to a quote in which Star Wars creator George Lucas described the films as like poetry – in as much as the stanzas rhyme. These rhymes are effectively the mythic tropes that Lucas used to construct the first six chapters of the story and they continue to supply a blueprint: the déjà vu people felt watching The Force Awakens was also present when watching The Phantom Menace, as both are rhymes that complement A New Hope. In the same way that John Williams’ music for Star Wars is adept at picking out motifs and developing them in new ways, so the Star Wars mythos returns to scenarios, visuals, and dialogue but also, when it’s successful, it – crucially – takes them in new directions. Ultimately, the reception to the different titles seems to have correlated fairly closely with how well the project was perceived to have calibrated this required balance. Lucasfilm’s head honcho Kathleen Kennedy recently implied that the casting of Alden Ehrenreich as a young Han Solo was the reason for the failure of Solo. But that doesn’t quite scan. People went wild for Donald Glover’s take on the beloved character Lando Calrissian, after all. Perhaps it’s also possible that the film missed the mark with its rhymes? At the other end of the scale, The Mandalorian seemed bold and free while actually leaning heavily into familiarity; its two main characters are slightly reimagined versions of fan favourites, and it is mired in existing lore while co-opting guest star appearances from characters previously seen in animated shows like The Clone Wars and Rebels. And so, to Obi-Wan Kenobi. In the first few episodes, the show felt like it was doing little new with format or material, but as it found its feet it became a compelling set of character studies – not least in the way it deepened the complex relationship between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader. It was filled with allusions to prior stories, including an episode that riffed on the last section of the popular video game Jedi: Fallen Order and concepts that borrowed liberally from the original, prequel and sequel trilogies, as well as animated series. While the lack of central jeopardy might understandably have put certain people off – several main characters are known to still be alive and well ten years after these events – it did deliver three impressive character arcs and a suitably sombre tone, along with memorable action set pieces. Did the world need to know what Obi-Wan was up to in the desert? Perhaps not, but this felt like a Star Wars offering that delivered an emotionally satisfying vignette while both breaking some new ground and sticking the delivering of a well-composed rhyming scheme.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is streaming now on Disney+

Gen Z’s Cultural Education

Gen Zs are discovering the delights of Kate Bush through coming-ofage sci-fi hit Stranger Things, and cultural gatekeepers are outraged. But they shouldn’t get in such a tizzy. Classic art has always been recontextualised by contemporary pop culture

Words: Lucy Fitzgerald

In the weeks since season four of Netflix’s Stranger Things dropped, Kate Bush’s haunting 1985 masterpiece Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) has climbed the transatlantic charts. Topping iTunes and Spotify and now being reserviced for radio play, its triumphant mainstream renaissance is thanks to the popular sci-fi drama prominently featuring it in multiple episodes and a new generation of kids discovering its glory. But such enthusiasm from Gen Zs immediately sparked an intense online reaction, with older Twitter users disapproving of commercial titan Netflix, in 2022, being the entry point for so many into Bush’s illustrious and dynamic catalogue. But why stir up such a gatekeeping, pointlessly snobbish response? At the end of the day, does it really matter where these young people accessed the art from? In fact, a lot of recent media directed at the teenage/young adult demographic is getting increasingly referential to iconic cultural figures and works, from the Gossip Girl reboot casually praising the magnum opus of Hong Kong auteur Wong Kar-wai to Riverdale imitating The Godfather and neo-noir classic Chinatown (“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown” becoming “Forget it, Jughead. It’s Riverdale”). It is easy to dismiss this trend: it’s screenwriters flexing their bank of cultural references without actually serving the plot; it sounds verbose and pretentious when it’s coming out of a teenage character’s mouth; and ultimately it’s asking to be mockingly memed. And it is even easier to dismiss the young viewers who then eagerly relay such new-found cultural references. But it is important to choose meaning over mockery, because really, Riverdale dropping Truman Capote quotes on the regular is actually useful. The literary references in the baby Fifty Shades movies, the After trilogy, and Netflix thriller YOU are productive beyond their momentary name drop. They don’t exist in a vacuum; young people majorly benefit from them. They act as gateway introductions, function as a wellspring of culture, giving points of access to art that predates the young viewers consuming it, and significantly, they are presented through a modern framework. Absorbed at a formative age, this is serious connective tissue for exploring and establishing identity through art. So why shun their fresh interest? After all, what is healthier than potentiating curiosity in young people? The imperious reaction to Bush’s resurgence is a somewhat elitist one. Who cares if some kids had no clue who Kate Bush was until last week? They are interested now, and widened accessibility is never a bad thing. Surely, if you believe in the quality of something so passionately, you want it to live on, as posterity is owed its mastery too. This condescending attitude towards young people being excited about something is not only annoying but completely unfair. Today, there is no wholly prescriptive or organic way to consume culture. In the digital age, it will continue to be increasingly fragmented (shoutout to TikTok) so we should be grateful that Kate Bush’s soundtracking in this instance was so tastefully executed; integral to the plot, its poignant placement complemented the emotional stakes and, hardly an anachronistic imposition with Stranger Things being set in the 80s, the song’s full evocative shine remained intact. Young people navigating culture today are totally overstimulated – the sensory overload and volume of content to consume is inordinate. So, if a couple of songs or films, no matter how famous and beloved, fall through the cracks, that is okay (remember when, in 2019, Billie Eilish, then 17, was shamed for not knowing who 70s rock group Van Halen were? Ridiculous). The obvious impossibility of knowing everything must be acknowledged

“One of the great things about art is, no matter what the circumstances are… the art is always going to be there essentially unchanged, ready for you, waiting for you, to be ready to receive it”

– everyone has to do some culture catch-up at some point. To indulge the logic of the contrarians in question, we will always meet inconsistency. For example, I doubt anyone who levels this attack has recognised every sample in every song they’ve ever heard. Art has always involved recontextualising and reimagining what came before. Furthermore, I believe it does not matter how cheesy or “lamestream” the context of a first experience of a respected piece of art is. As a Zoomer consumer myself, it was Harry Styles who properly introduced me to Fleetwood Mac, after integrating his cover of The Chain into his regular setlist. It was The 1975 who made me aware of Federico Fellini with 8½ imagery in one of their music videos. An extremely mediocre Netflix teen dance movie (Work It) with a cast of C-list, former Disney stars introduced me to Thus Spoke Zarathustra, the seminal text of German philosopher Friederich Nietzsche. Disney Pixar’s Cars presented me with a spectrum of country legends, from James Taylor to – stay with me on this – Rascal Flatts. Another personal launch pad, dare I say pedagogy at its peak, was Glee covers, baby. The show’s obnoxious oeuvre genuinely gave me an expansive education on the modern American songbook. Not the most sophisticated examples, I know, but through cringe comes clarity. May we all swim through a cultural estuary, where the lowbrow tide meets the highbrow stream. Indeed, there can be tremendous value in retrospective learning through pop culture. For example, while not knowing anything about The Good Friday Agreement is a stinging reflection on the deliberate gaps in the British school curriculum, learning of its detail via Channel 4’s Derry Girls is pretty damn productive. Ultimately, of course, it is natural to wonder how someone might have missed such a ubiquitous product of the zeitgeist, but it does not warrant condemnation. The redundancy of the negative online reaction to Gen Z discovering classic cultural texts through modern media is clear: it is a vain attack. After all, isn’t a stamp of approval from the youth a good thing? It means your tastes are still relevant and cool! You are not yet obsolete! I for one know that if in 37 years from now the kids are just discovering the merit of Doja Cat, I will champion their curiosity, nourish their interest, and share in their joy.

Structures in Mind

The conversation around ADHD is increasingly opening up – but there’s still a lot that goes unsaid. We speak to women about their experiences with ADHD diagnosis, the structures which dominate, and workplace professionalism

Words: Rosie Priest Illustration: Rachel Browne

What do the patriarchy, racism, and capitalism have to do with ADHD? It turns out quite a lot. For women and folk from marginalised genders, approaching your GP to talk about a potential ADHD diagnosis can be frustrating. Susan, a medical student, told me that “the first GP I spoke to basically laughed in my face, saying there was no way I could be studying medicine and have ADHD. I left feeling like I had embarrassed myself, and that feeling sat with me for a long time.” That feeling of embarrassment, brought on when you finally reach out and ask for some help, is very familiar. “Were there any significant moments in your childhood that you can think of?” a psychiatrist asked me last week during an assessment for ADHD medication. I wasn’t sure how to answer so I talked about my father trying to burn the house down with me in it. Then I worried I’d been overly personal, and found myself sweating through my t-shirt with anxiety and embarrassment, running through my response in my head. I felt my face burning up; I was unable to focus; the psychiatrist’s words were just background noise to my own internal voice. I’m not sure what I expected, but I left their office with tears streaming down my face. Part relief at feeling heard by a professional for the first time, part devastating embarrassment from feeling like I had overshared. Of course, I hadn’t. And, similarly, Susan would go on to receive a formal diagnosis some years after that initial GP appointment. But as women we’ve been taught to feel embarrassment or shame about being different – even if that difference comes from experiences inflicted upon us, completely out of our control. The embarrassment we feel trying to get support is created by the (patriarchal) world around us. I spoke to some other incredible women about their experiences of navigating a late diagnosis of ADHD. Kyla says, “A lot of people who don’t fit in the diagnostic criteria and ones who have a later life diagnosis, typically women, may

“If the world allowed women to exist without the need to fit into a capitalist 9 to 5 regime, I’d never have ended up on this ADHD journey”

come from a rough family life, or just not having the support system in school or wider society. The internalised ableism and the intense critical lines are then masking trauma so hard to fit in and to fix themselves and to be better.” Masking typically involves covering up your ADHD symptoms, often mirroring those around you, requiring intense and exhausting concentration. But Kyla’s words made me realise that the brilliant job I had done of masking the trauma of a chaotic and complicated childhood was also playing out by masking my ADHD. And so, late ADHD diagnosis isn’t just about uncovering the masking we’ve done to fit in: it’s also about uncovering the masking we’ve done to hide trauma. For Charlene, her experiences of seeking diagnosis have been even more complex. “As a Black woman, that caricature of a young white boy with ADHD being disruptive in school, I am so far from that stereotype that I don’t think I was ever taken seriously.” Charlene’s experiences reflect the racial health gap within the UK, in which Black people and People of Colour are not offered the same health support as white people. Despite spending the last four years chasing a diagnosis, Charlene has never been given the opportunity to be seen by a psychiatrist. “I was put on a waiting list at one point, but when I moved house of course that all got juggled around and lost. I don’t have the energy to keep chasing.” My two-year-wait for a diagnosis seems small in comparison. For Charlene and many others, self-diagnosis is the only diagnosis they may ever get. Of course, this means medication is not available. But getting to the stage of medication is not without its complications. Kyla recalls: “Day one of trying meds I cried about three times just from the sheer quiet of my brain and [that] I could focus on my work. The whole purpose of the meds is to be able to focus on work in the workplace and that’s gross and capitalist and frustrating.” I think about that focus on work a lot. If the world we lived in were less ableist, if I was allowed to work in fits and starts, to exist chaotically, to ‘overshare’ in professional settings without being engulfed by embarrassment, perhaps the urge to seek medication would be less. If the world allowed women to exist without the need to fit into a capitalist 9 to 5 regime, I’d never have ended up on this ADHD journey. The women I spoke to talked about feeling overwhelmed, stressed and exhausted. But if the patriarchal structures which force intense masking on women with ADHD, the racist structures that disallow PoC equal access to medical treatment, and the capitalist structures ableist ways of working were dismantled, would those feelings remain? My guess is not.

Feeling Scottish

Looking to the future, one writer reflects on Scottish identity and finding joy in communities of colour

Words: Hazel Peters Illustration: Jacqueline Briggs

Scotland is my home, but it hasn’t always felt like home. I have lived in Greenock, a small town on the River Clyde, my whole life, and yet I haven’t found a sense of belonging until recently. My life there has been characterised by being the ‘only one’. Until my younger sister started, I was the only person with Black heritage in my primary school. Even in secondary school, there was never another Black girl in my year and I was always the only Person of Colour in my friend group. Little microaggressions, like always being asked if I’m a tourist when there is a cruise ship in town, have made it clear to me that I’m not considered Scottish – and they undoubtedly contribute to why I don’t feel ‘Scottish’. Yes, I’m not only Scottish. I’m Guyanese too. But I’ve lived in Scotland my whole life, so I believe I should ‘feel’ Scottish. I have always felt alienated from the ‘Scottish identity’. It’s an identity often perceived and portrayed as primarily white meaning that, in the eyes of others, my Guyanese culture and Blackness cancel out my Scottishness. In comparison, I feel like a woman; I feel mixed race; I feel Black. I see myself in women, mixed people, and Black people because parts of their experiences mirror my own. Similarly, I see myself in the Guyanese identity. It is comforting to know that there are Guyanese people who look like me, while in Scotland very few folk seem to look like me. For a long time my existence in Greenock was miserable. I realised my peers didn’t see me as the same type of Scottish as them, and the best survival tactic was suppressing my mixed/Black identity and Guyanese and Caribbean culture. If I didn’t talk about my culture and identity, people could almost forget that I was different. Emphasis on almost. It was exhausting holding together the palatable-to-white-people persona that I had so carefully crafted. I sat quietly in class, not sharing my thoughts on the racism and sexism of our education system, or my readings on Black British history. I locked these parts of my life away, myself my only confidant. I felt trapped. At age 13, I began to plan my escape. As soon as I finished high school, I was off to an English city. English cities promise an ethnic diversity that Scotland’s cities simply don’t (the 2011 census found that 44.9% of the population in London was white British and 53.1% in Birmingham, compared to 78.6% in Glasgow). Images of me walking down the street and simply seeing other Black and brown faces played in my mind like a film montage. In this film, the protagonist’s deepest desire

“I may always physically be present in Scotland, but mentally and emotionally I’m often elsewhere”

is just to feel normal for once in her life. In hindsight, I believe this intense drive to leave Scotland was due to the lack of family and friends tying me here. I had nothing to lose by leaving and everything to gain. My Guyanese family live in the USA and we have a close relationship, despite the distance. I may always physically be present in Scotland, but mentally and emotionally I’m often elsewhere. However, recently my tunnel vision has begun to clear. Eighteen months ago, I joined Intercultural Youth Scotland (IYS), an anti-racist charity for Black and People of Colour. IYS provides a weekly youth group in Edinburgh, with a focus on nurturing creative talent. A couple of train rides away, I found a space that affirms my identity and people who share similar cultural references and experiences. Suddenly living in Scotland wasn’t (and isn’t) so bad. I have finally found happiness, community, and opportunity here. Racism hasn’t disappeared, but it no longer feels like my survival depends on assimilation into white culture. Subsequently, moving to England no longer feels so urgent. England still promises many things that Scotland doesn’t, but these things now come with a cost – namely, potentially losing the joy and connection I have found. What I have now is precious. I don’t want to make a choice out of fear. IYS has taught me that I am capable of creating connections and community from the ground up. At first, I was just the new girl from an unknown town, joining a close-knit group. If I can form meaningful connections once, I should be able to do it again. For me, home is wherever I find belonging. In that sense, I have multiple homes. My home can be with my family overseas or in Scotland; it can be at IYS in Edinburgh; maybe in the future it will be in England. While my relationship to living in Scotland has changed, my relationship to being Scottish hasn’t. I just don’t feel very ‘Scottish’. Nevertheless, I have found a strong sense of self without having a strong national identity and I am content with that.

Released 22 July by Temporary Residence Ltd rrrrr

Listen to: This Is Love, The Roundabout, Nature

Album of the Month Nina Nastasia — Riderless Horse

The more than a decade between Nina Nastasia’s last studio album Outlaster and her new one Riderless Horse is the result of, in her own words, “unhappiness, overwhelming chaos, mental illness, and my tragically dysfunctional relationship with Kennan.” The Kennan in question is Kennan Gudjonsson, Nastasia’s former partner, manager and producer, whose 2020 suicide and the relationship they had, colours the album. It’s indicative of Nastasia’s talent as a songwriter that this period has brought a record as powerful and quietly emotionally vibrant as this. The record strips away the full band and strings approach that were so key to the gothic atmospheres of her previous works, and leaves in their place just her voice and delicate guitar playing. It’s a brave move – the use of strings throughout her career has felt as crucial to her sound as her voice or guitar, but it pays off, often in remarkable fashion. The new, unadorned style gives an immediacy to her playing, a sense of closeness. This, combined with Steve Albini’s typically naturalistic production, removes any obfuscation from the songwriting giving songs like the bruising This is Love and The Roundabout a very specific physical power, less like a recording and more as if you’re sat in front of her as she unleashes the song from within her for the first time. This sense of a song being born in real time extends to the guitar playing as well. Not in an improvised way; rather it’s minimal, and never showy but always developing with feeling. It’s crucial to the lightness of touch that the record has a feeling of delicate hope that hovers in even its darkest songs. It gives the several songs of gentle joy across the album their buoyancy, never more evident than in the springy fingerpicking that carries Blind as Batsies along on its lovely wind of precarious optimism. It’s this simplicity, coupled with her ever gorgeous but similarly understated voice, that makes a song like the glowering Nature hit so hard. It feels coiled, primed to burst at any moment. It’s been a long time, but Riderless Horse is a timely reminder of what Nina Nastasia has always done. Great songs, performed brilliantly, to devastating effect. A record of powerful simplicity, and a stunning return. [Joe Creely]

Read more online: theskinny.co.uk/music/reviews/albums

Working Men’s Club Fear Fear RRRRr “an acutely refined album fuelled by energy and agitation” Viagra Boys Cave World RRRRr “warped, but excellent, post-punk excursions” Gwenno Tresor RRRRr “a thrilling and beautiful return”

Superorganism World Wide Pop Domino, 15 Jul rrrrr

Listen to: Black Hole Baby, On & On A smorgasbord of sound and energy, World Wide Pop is Superorganism’s ambitiously weird take on pop. Subverting ‘pop’ isn’t new, which makes it all the more special that in a saturated scene Superorganism have pulled off something wholly unique and – most importantly – fun. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just a fruit fly that’s floatin’ on by’, Orono Noguchi drawls on Into the Sun over a backdrop of chaotic synths, drums, and a melody that progressively gets more complex and trippy. Her signature nonchalant delivery signals that, at times, amid absurdity and chaos, all that’s left to do is kick back and enjoy the ride.

WWP’s future-facing sound draws more from the ‘cut-and-paste’ ethos of the indie heyday than hyperpop. Indeed, many of the now five-piece, who hail from South Korea, Japan, Australia, New Zealand and the UK initially met online, making World Wide Pop all the more fitting, alluding to the collaborative spirit underpinning their work. While maximalism is at the heart of this record (at times on tracks such as Solar System it almost veers towards too much of too much), on the whole it finds the sweet spot between chaos and structure, silliness and depth, and it’s a banger. [Anita Bhadani] Helena Celle Music for Counterflows False Walls, 15 Jul rrrrr

Listen to: Music for Counterflows Commissioned for the online 2021 iteration of Glasgow’s Counterflows festival, this month sees Kay Logan’s work as Helena Celle, Music for Counterflows, get both a digital and physical release. Musically, Logan weaves an hour of uninterrupted oceanic smothering. Whirling distant notes, immaculate rhythms and full mid-EQ washes all build the complex assemblage that functions as a tender, constructed organism of sound. We are fully submerged in process with Music for Counterflows and the work, built using MaxMSP, a visual programming software, is a journey full of an interdependent reactivity, a symbiosis of pushing, pulling and revolving. Immense beauty comes from the play and interaction between Logan and these AI processes; there’s a latent sense of taking centre stage for all the crashes and melodies involved as they submerge and reemerge into immaculate textures that shimmer on the surface. It does well in muddying composition and performance with occasional dramatic outbursts that feel performed rather than composed. Music for Counterflows is a top-drawer production that pushes at the edges of a particular technology in a considered, engaging and beautiful way. [Tommy Pearson]

Katy J Pearson Sound of the Morning Heavenly Recordings, 8 Jul rrrrr

Listen to: Sound of the Morning, Howl, Storm to Pass Katy J Pearson says she places an emphasis on longevity – that she wants to gradually perfect her craft over the course of several albums rather than chase overnight success. Her second attempt might be too early to adjudicate, but it certainly seems we can take her at her word. Granted, none of the singles from Sound of the Morning reach the same heights as Miracle or Take Back the Radio, but the album boasts undeniably matured songwriting and a fuller sound. While it would be great to hear more complex writing in places, Pearson knows how to use simplicity to her advantage – The Hour is a repetitive and stripped-back lament for absent family members that leaves you wallowing in its sadness.

Sound of the Morning is filled with delightful instrumental details, from the title track’s opening rumble that suggests distant storm clouds, to the chromatic bassline on Alligator, to Black Midi’s Morgan Simpson’s stand-out drumming on Storm to Pass. Pinning it all together, as always, are Pearson’s birdsongadjacent vocals. It’s excellent, and filled with momentum, even if she could have gone a bit more ethereal on the ‘ooh-aahs’ at the end – we know she has it in her. [Laurie Presswood] Paolo Nutini’s return to music has been long awaited. Now, he returns with his most musically expansive album to date – Last Night in the Bittersweet. Finding himself writing more on bass guitar, tracks like Lose It, Acid Eyes and Led Zeppelin-esque opener Afterneath channel a new side to Nutini that’s both dark and enticing. However, other tracks like Petrified in Love and Desperation fall into the bracket of mediocre indie bangers – they lack in authenticity and would’ve been better saved for a super deluxe edition release. But, it is undoubtedly the tender side to Nutini that shines through the most here. Through the Echoes is tear-inducing with its achingly beautiful choruses and is arguably his best track to date. Radio is also a hook-laden delight while the anthemic Everywhere shows Nutini in the lineage of Otis Redding with his trademark soulful vocals. The album’s vast soundscapes show shades of psychedelia with soul, folk, rock and indie across its 16 tracks. Occasional spoken word excerpts add nice intimate touches with themes of love, heartache and introspection at the forefront of Nutini’s endearing lyrics. It’s not faultless, but Nutini still glimmers with magic on this magnetic new record. [Jamie Wilde]

Paolo Nutini Last Night in the Bittersweet Atlantic Records, Out Now rrrrr

Listen to: Through the Echoes, Radio, Everywhere

Beabadoobee Beatopia Dirty Hit, 15 Jul rrrrr

Listen to: 10:36, See You Soon, Talk Welcome to Beatopia, Bea Laus’ (aka Beadaboobee) fictional, childhood wonderland once forgotten, now newfound and repurposed. After a personally damaging public embarrassment led Laus to shut its gates as a child, album two provides artistic license to reinvent the magical land as a boundary-free space for musical experimentation. Laus bravely embraces her imagined world through not only sonic exploration but its successful discovery too. She soars through a variety of tones, including lullaby-like ballads, jittery jazz-infused pop, moving midwest emo and, of course, prickly post-rock. With the album credits as wide-spanning as Matty Healy, Jack Steadman, Georgia Ellery and even some of Laus’ best friends, it’s easy to understand the expansive array of soundscapes that appear here. While Beatopia is audibly nostalgic, carrying a polished, defined early-noughties retro altpop/rock, Laus’ softly-sung lyrics are firmly placed in the now. Vulnerable and open, Laus’ heart is worn firmly on her oversized cardigan sleeve as she embarks on a courageous journey towards self-acceptance, shedding the fear to be herself, and sharing the real Bea Laus with the world. [Dylan Tuck] Florist Florist Double Double Whammy, 29 Jul rrrrr

Listen to: Red Bird Pt. 2 (Morning), Dandelion ‘The home is a garden that I can’t keep alive’, Emily Sprague sings on Dandelion – one of many apt gardening metaphors found on Florist albums. The band’s new self-titled release is their first as a full band in five years, functioning as a form of rewilding. Recorded during a monthlong retreat, the band fill these songs with space and natural ambience; birds, crickets and rain noise duet with its members on a heartfelt collection of loose and explorative folk songs. The band nails their melancholic atmosphere. Gentle resampled sounds and improvised guitar become a dreamlike base on the many instrumental interludes that keep us in Florist’s hypnotic spell. These half-formed pieces make each fully-formed song hit with new impact. Red Bird Pt. 2 (Morning) and Sci-fi Silence become gorgeous moments of clarity. On the former, Sprague reflects on the fleeting nature of memory after the passing of her mother. She searches for her own moment of clarity on a return to her childhood home, finding solace in the consistency of nature.

Florist already feels like an album to live and grow with. It’s a warm hug which asks the listener to smell the flowers every now and then. [Skye Butchard]

Wu-Lu Loggerhead Warp Records, 8 Jul rrrrr

Listen to: Blame, Night Pill (feat. Asha) Miles Romans-Hopcraft’s debut album as Wu-Lu is an absolute nexus of influence. Loggerhead displays in abundance RomansHopcraft’s growth as an artist and varied listening: the shifting of genres, the restless approach to instrumentation and the range in vocal styles leave the album at once disparate but somehow coherent in its vision. The punk wailing found on South (feat. Lex Amor), the almost Beck-like sounding Calo Paste (feat. Léa Sen), and the breaks in lead single Blame, that morph into a mumbling skramz, all blur the album into a dizzying monster of uncertainty. This uncertainty is especially expressed on Calo Paste which lyrically targets rent, instability, and low income, bookended with the looped refrain: ‘I don’t wanna see your mental health go to waste’. These swings, these shifts, at times feel as if there are 12 opening tracks for 12 albums here, which is both jarring as well as a phenomenal feat to pull off with any coherence. Pensive, resting beats provide a backdrop to the album’s many experiments with it really popping in its quieter moments of lyrical reflection and confrontation. Loggerhead requires repeat listening to discover its true depth. [Tommy Pearson] Maggie Rogers Surrender Polydor Records, 29 Jul rrrrr

Listen to: Overdrive, That’s Where I Am, Want Want Maggie Rogers’ viral video plucking from relative obscurity back at the onset of what is now a glittering career seems almost quaint as unknown stars rocket to popularity at an eye-watering speed. But her rather too finely produced and overthought debut album has won her a surprising longevity. The title for her new album, Surrender, suggests an unclasping from that. Rogers’ vowelly voice can be an unaffecting and expressionless instrument, which makes the unhinged production on the opening suite of songs feel particularly impressive, replacing the tasteful flower girl indie-pop of her previous work with songs that are brash, chunky and loud, especially on lead single That’s Where I Am, which turns the drums up to thrillingly ear-splitting levels. It works – Rogers’ voice becomes just another layer in the distorted mix. She may be singing about sex on Want Want, but it’s the placement, rather than the content, of her singing that makes it both pleasurable and able to convey a pleasure. It’s a shame then that Rogers doesn’t commit to that oversaturated sucker punch. The baggy mid-section gives over to pared back singer-songwriter fare that reins it all in, the record’s bright flame burning out rather too fast. [Tony Inglis]

Music Now

This month's new Scottish music column explores forthcoming releases from Nicole Cassandra Smit, wor_kspace, The Wife Guys of Reddit, Gordon McIntyre and more

Words: Tallah Brash

With festival season fully back in June, it was hard to keep up with new releases. Towards the end of the month Glasgow funk and hip-hop collective DOPESICKFLY released the infectious Red Light, while Glasgow brother and sister pairing Cloth released the eerily sublime Lucid, announcing in the same breath that they’d been signed to Mogwai’s Rock Action label, with new EP, Low Sun, to follow in October. In July, there are some pretty big releases to look out for in the world of Scottish music. Idlewild celebrate the 20th anniversary of The Remote Part with a special vinyl reissue on 15 July, Amy Macdonald releases Don’t Tell Me That It’s Over, a new collection of reimagined fan favourites on 8 July. Following a run of small shows ahead of his headline slot at TRNSMT this month, Paisley’s favourite son Paolo Nutini returns with Last Night in the Bittersweet, out now. Turn back a page to read our full review of the record. At the more experimental end of the spectrum, on 15 July Glasgow’s Kay Logan releases Music for Counterflows under her Helena Celle moniker. Above our Paolo review you’ll also find some very favourable thoughts on this one. Fresh from playing our stage at Kelburn Garden Party, Edinburgh-based Indonesian-Swedish singer-songwriter Nicole Cassandra Smit releases her debut album of original material on 8 July via Liljekonvalj Records. Having already caught the ear of BBC 6 Music’s Craig Charles for her inaugural single, Strong Woman, her debut album Third In Line truly levels up. In places, the record calls to mind artists like Nuyorican Soul, Nitin Sawhney and Moloko-era Róisín Murphy, the latter particularly on the bass-led Quest. A record conceptually split into three parts, it reflects the role Smit plays within three generations of women in her family. Effortlessly fusing together a multitude of styles from jazz, blues, trip-hop, hip-hop, R’n’B, alt-soul and more, instrumentally it’s a wonder as soaring strings dance with shuffling drums, guitar, bass, brass, electronics and more. The addition of guest vocal turns from the likes of Philadelphian rapper Kameelah Waheed and Edinburgh’s Joseph Malik feel perfectly placed, too, elevating the Photo: John Mackie record. But the star in all of this is Smit’s exceptional and always assured voice which is nothing short of captivating throughout; no matter if it’s at a more vulnerable moment or over a thick groove, Smit oozes with soul and endless character. Finlay MacDonald released his self-titled debut album as wor_ kspace on 1 July; he’s an artist whose glitchy music concrète compositions and bending synths of his ext_ended EP had us smitten last August. Recorded on laptop in MacDonald’s own ‘Analogue Mountain’ tape-based studio (see: brick shed), three of the tracks from that EP – song, transfer and weekend – now have a new home on wor_kspace. They’re perfectly peppered throughout this 11-track record, where even more delicious electronic beeps, bloops and more collide with MacDonald’s dreamy vocals. Oh, and there’s some lovely vocoder work to be found here too. Yes please and thank you very much. Further into the month, on 15 July self-professed purveyors of ‘soupy rock’, Glasgow’s The Wife Guys of Reddit (named after a King Gizzard subreddit) release The Wife Guys Walk Into Oncoming Traffic. Opening with the charming Wife Guys Diss Track, it’s quickly clear that their music is just as tongue-incheek as their name. Overall, this EP is an incredibly satisfying brand of slacker indie all its own; sounding just as good when they ramp up the BPM as when they slow it right down; lazy, jangly guitars, murky underwater vocals and unexpected bossa novas keep us well and truly on our toes. On the same day, Ballboy frontman Gordon McIntyre releases his debut solo record, Even With the Support of Others, via Lost Map Records. Born out of a commission from Elizabeth Newman, artistic director of the Pitlochry Festival Theatre, following a request from her to write some songs to form part of their Shades of Tay lockdown special. Conversations about the natural world, cities, landscapes, countrysides, bridges and rivers form the basis of this ten-track album. Delightfully connected to the world around us, there’s a gentle and melancholic sincerity to McIntyre’s voice making for a wholly soothing listen. Elsewhere, Declan Welsh & the Decadent West release their Impermanency EP on 4 July, with Jack Brotherhood’s hilariously titled Live, Laugh, Jack Brotherhood EP due on 22 July. There are a whole host of singles out this month too from the likes of Blush Club, who release the exciting Ornamental Ponds (1 Jul), the title track of their forthcoming EP due later in the year. On the same day Zak Younger Banks releases Shadow in the Sun, while Clare Grogan’s Altered Images releases Beautiful Thing. On 6 July, Scotland-based rapper Psweatpants releases the UK garage-indebted The Rave (ft. Priya), while on 8 July, Edinburgh-based R’n’B and electronic artist philomenah releases lavender, singer-songwriter Rachel Jack releases Colour Me Unimpressed, and Lou Mclean goes all synthpop on RBF – short for resting bitch face, of course.

Photo: George McFadyen The Wife Guys of Reddit

Spotlight On...

King Wine

Ahead of their debut album release, Glasgow’s King Wine talk to us about video game electronica and the joy of embarrassment

Interview: Niamh Carey

King Wine have been on the go for almost ten years now, bringing bucketfuls of charisma and video game nostalgia to many a dingy Glasgow basement bar. Part electro-pop, part Mario soundtrack, the duo’s instrument of choice is a Nintendo Game Boy, programmed by Craig Wilson to accompany Ruthie Kennedy’s bubblegum vocals about teenage escapades. They make a charming duo that, in this writer’s opinion, are one of Glasgow’s best kept secrets. King Wine’s live shows are the stuff of legend: sporting orange jerseys, exercise shorts and a CBBC-style hypemanship, the duo earnestly shake their bodies while singing about attractive TV broadcasters and riding their bikes in the summer. There’s a lot going on all at once, and in the wrong hands it could easily slip into something naff. But instead the duo craft a magic combination of teenage nostalgia and comic electronica that leaves audiences feeling both confused and overjoyed. The enduring charm of King Wine’s shows is soon coming to those not immersed in Glasgow’s live scene, thanks to the release of their self-titled debut album next month. We catch up with the pair to find out more.

The Skinny: You’ve been delighting unsuspecting audiences with your live shows since 2013. What made you decide to release your first record now? Craig Wilson: We’ve been sitting on these songs for so long, and it’s tempting to keep writing new ones, but then I ask myself ‘Why do you keep writing songs if you don’t even put out the first ones that you think are good enough to put out?’ Plus there was the pandemic – that delayed things.

As Glasgow’s finest Game Boy-produced band, can you talk a bit about your production process? Ruthie Kennedy: Craig writes the backing tracks on a music production programme called LSDj (Little Sound Dj) on a Game Boy cartridge, which he sends to me. I write the lyrics and the vocal melody, and then we kind of workshop it from there. I would say it’s definitely been a separate but together process, although I’ve been learning LSDj and Craig’s been doing a lot of writing. I’m excited to switch it up for our new music.

King Wine’s lyrics are punchy, honest and playful. Are there any particular themes you enjoy exploring? RK: I think I’m trying to reclaim teenage emotional intensity for myself. Trying to be anti-embarrassment… or actually, pro-embarrassment. I’m very up for embarrassing myself with overly earnest, heart-on-your-sleeve lyrics. CW: Life’s too short. RK: Life’s too short! I want to allow people to express themselves freely. That’s my only goal: to be as honest as possible, and if it’s cheesy then that’s good! Everyone needs a bit of cheese in their lives. CW: It ain’t easy being cheesy. RK: That’s for damn sure.

Your live shows are pretty unique – one part kids TV show, one part choreographed bedroom dancing, plus a little gymnastics sprinkled in for good measure. What do you hope people get out of watching your shows? CW: I think it’s what Ruthie said before, about not feeling embarrassed. The mantra that I had when we started the band was: ‘If you see someone enjoying themselves on stage, then you’ll enjoy yourself as well’. All my favourite bands do that. There’s nothing wrong with going up and being totally serious, but we want people to see that we’re daft, we’re having a good time. We’re the focal point of the room which gives the audience permission to go daft as well.

“My only goal [is] to be as honest as possible, and if it’s cheesy then that’s good!”

RK: I think it’s fair to say that we’re both quite anxious, high-strung people, so it’s a moment of release for us. That sense of release is definitely something I want to give to other people as well. CW: When I go up there, I don’t have to worry, because I’m not me, I’m Craig from King Wine. He can do whatever he likes, there’s no consequences for him. RK: I think it’s really interesting that you say that, because for me, I don’t feel like I become someone else, I feel like I become more myself. CW: Maybe not someone else, but it’s like a part of myself I’m allowed to reveal. RK: Yeah, I think that should bleed more into everyone’s real lives. I think everyone should be more weird – the weirdest, truest version of themselves.

What’s next for King Wine? RK: Our debut album is coming out on 27 August! And we’ll be doing a show at The Hug and Pint, one of our favourite venues. We have some exciting shows coming up that we can’t wait to announce. CW:: We’d like to do a big tour, that’d be fun. RK: And obviously writing new music… CW: Releasing the four other albums we’ve written. RK: Next year: tenth anniversary tour. CW: Special box set. Live DVD. RK: Global fame.

King Wine is released on 27 Aug; King Wine play The Hug & Pint, Glasgow, 27 Aug

instagram.com/kingwineband