otwo: Volume XVI, Issue 8

2 HELLO

how to kill a snowman

by Steven Balbirnie

F

or what must have been the sixth time in minutes, I picked myself up from the icy pavement. I couldn’t wait for the cold weather to end: all it took was a bit of snow for everything to come to a standstill while everyone lost their minds. I would be perfectly happy if I never saw snow again.

into my house and drink my beer; now you’re trying to rob my car. I’m putting and end to this,” I growled firmly, bearing down on him with my shovel. His stick-arms offered little protection. Sifting through his remains I found the chewed up pieces of my neighbour’s garden gnome. “Bloody snow,” I grumbled to myself as I walked back inside and went to bed.

As I rounded the corner by my house I noticed something new sitting in my front garden. It was a snowman. He was a heavyset Caucasian about four feet tall; some of the local kids must have left him there. I stepped past the snowman, unlocked the door and let the warmth wash over me. “Hate to be stuck outside in the cold,” I laughed at the snowman as I closed the door. I trudged into the sitting room and slumped into an armchair in front of the TV. Glancing out the window I noticed the snowman looking right back at me. It was kind of creepy; it almost seemed like the snowman was watching me, but I knew it was just kids trying to mess with my head. They’ve got to get their kicks somehow.

Letter

from the Ed Ah February, the month no one knows how to spell properly.

This is the month where the mornings remain cold, and the days… well, get just a little bit warmer than January’s. In fact, nothing much changes. Not even the leaves grow.

Yes, the only thing to come of February is the slow release of debt from everyone’s life. But, what’s that? You failed an exam? Oooh, so sorry. That’ll be €230 please… oh, and don’t bother appealing. That lecturer will be offended and mark you down again. Seriously, don’t bother… Bitter much?

But enough about that - and on with the show. This issue we have a serious treat for those of you who have absolutely no taste in musical aesthetics whatsoever. If you were a fan of The X Factor, then first of all, go jump off a cliff. Actually, make that second of all, because first of all you should read our exclusive, first-in-Ireland interview with the Lucan boys who took the world by storm, and thankfully are about to put us all out of our misery by making that hole in the ozone layer that little bit more gaping. Yup, it’s those hairspray chuggers-in-chief, Jedward. Go to page 14. Then take your deep breath and jump.

Colin

The following morning things took a turn for the worse. I came downstairs to find the front door wide open, and snowy footprints leading from the door to the hallstand and the fridge. One of my hats and one of my scarves were missing from the hallstand and all the beer in my fridge was gone. Following the footprints back outside I discovered that the snowman was now wearing my hat and scarf, and scattered around him were empty beer cans. Someone had gone way too far this time. As I cleaned up the cans my next-door neighbour came over to the wall. “Hey man, have you seen my garden gnome? He’s gone missing,” he asked me. “He was probably taken by the same person that broke into my house and stole my beer,” I grumbled, stamping back inside.

I stayed up late that night on the off chance that whoever it was that had been causing trouble came back. Sure enough, at about 2am, there was the sound of breaking glass in my front garden. I rushed outside to find that the window of the driver’s side on my car had been smashed in. And reaching inside to try and open the door was the snowman!

I seized the shovel I had been using to clear the driveway and advanced on him. “First of all you break

otwo@universityobserver.ie twitter.com/otwo

otwo

02.02.10

WHINGE 3

SOAPBOX Paul Fennessy vents his wrath on Ryanair... and boy, can he vent it Once during a brief sojourn Stateside, I came across an intriguing spectacle. A group of American jocular types were engaging in the rather exotic exercise (for them at least): playing a game of rugby.

It was, quite frankly, the most retarded thing I’d ever seen. Tries were replaced with touchdowns, scrums seemed a mere excuse for these supremely macho individuals to unleash their inveterate homoerotic impulses, etc.

Their cluelessness is reminiscent of how Ryanair (or ‘them thieves with superior flying capabilities’) operates, except that the latter group tends to do it on a daily, hourly, minutely basis.

Next time I’m flying I intend to inject undue levels of morphine into my bloodstream and insist that compatriots carry my drug addled body onto the plane if necessary... or, alternatively, simply fly with another airline. Either would work.

Here’s a sample conversation experienced by yours truly with one of Ryanair’s many resident geniuses: “I’m sorry, sir, the runway has been closed off due to the icy weather.” “But how are all the other airlines flying? In fact, I can see Michael O’Leary doing Top Gun stunts along the runway right now!” “I’m sorry sir; the runway has been closed off due to the icy weather.” “But you just said...”

“Terrorist! Terrorist!”

There’s this theory which we shall just call ‘the truth’ (c’mon, we’re practically a tabloid paper now, we’re allowed this kind of leeway). The truth is this: Ryanair is in actual fact a clever guise for the greatest, most ingenious con act of all time.

My lingering suspicions that they were really just Hitler, Stalin and Mugabe all rolled into one were confirmed in one fell swoop. This epiphany arose when a check-in girl told me that, in order to compensate for my missed flight, I would be required to pay an additional €80 solely due to their own gross incompetence. I promptly informed her that she represented the precise incarnation of Hitler, Stalin and Mugabe all rolled into one. To my immense satisfaction, she promptly cried.

We need a mass boycott of the chaos, commercial suicide and despair which Ryanair specialises in. Why not spend an evening or two eating bananas with monkeys instead? It’s bound to be more intellectually stimulating than listening to them tell you you’ll need to pay a tenner to use the toilet mid-flight.

This fortnight’s movers and losers as chosen by otwo’s resident hot stuff Michelle McCormick

HOT

Cat Face From the people who brought you the Badger Badger Badger song and that really irritating 11824-7 directory heaven jingle on the telly comes the comic genius that is Cat Face. He’s got the body of a cat and the face of a cat... and he is rather hilarious. Watch all 18 episodes at weeblsstuff.com for some

That’s why I chose Yale The all-singing, alldancing promotional video for Yale University has made all at the University Observer want to choose Yale – but we’re pretty sure that the song is the best thing about the place.

Why doesn’t stuff like this happen in UCD? Have a goo on YouTube - it’s epic.

Giddy Goose This Dun Laoghaire cafe is a new face in the village, and one that will be sticking around if first impressions are anything to go by.

Go visit, have a delicious fry, be spoiled by the über-friendly staff then, walk it off on the pier.

Good times. The coffee’s not half bad too, if you’re not up for grub.

Fred “Spar Ad” Cooke Despite us labelling him “Spar Ad”, and forgetting he went to UCD while giving comedy compatriot Jarlath Regan a namecheck as an alumnus, he still gave us the good biscuits at last week’s Comedy Mish Mash. What a legend.

An honest-to-goodness up and coming star.

Sporcle Destroyer of motivation and all time, Sporcle. com has taken over our lives like a nasty rash that feels really great to scratch. With quizzes like ‘name the corporate symbol’ and ‘who was that guy, you know the guy, in Friends, with the hair?’, you’ll be tearing your hair out gleefully for hours on end.

Disclaimer: quiz names may not be accurate.

Sabbatical nominations Come one, come all, the circus is back in town. The next cycle of Belfield’s Next Top Wannabe Something That Isn’t A Regular Student is has begun and once again, nobody cares. It would be ignorable if it weren’t for the endless stream of Facebook requests to join every Johnny Loser’s campaign group.

Le sigh. Vote for Pedro.

Foursquare As if our online lives weren’t already infested with enough uselessness, the scourge of annoying applications has travelled over to Twitter. As far as we can gather, it’s a game about telling people where you are and stuff. Basically, Foursquare is the new Farmville. And we all know if farms must be destroyed. Curse their beefy goodness.

NOT

Peanut Butter M&Ms Addictive little bites of deliciousness, all the way from New York New York. Oh cruel fate, why did you bring these drops of heaven into our lives simply to snatch them away again? We’ll cry into the empty wrappers until M&Ms decide to sell them here, or someone goes to the USA again... whichever happens first. [Book my flight! - Ed] otwo

02.02.10

4

WHINGE

say what ???

QUESTION: The ads are back - so how do you eat yours? asks Selva Unal

“I just bite and I just eat! That’s all.”

“

Nur Diana Ismail, 2nd Medicine

“I eat it whole.”

I lick my Creme Egg.

Zhen Dong, 2nd Commerce

“I’d munch it.”

Matthew Tunbridge, 3rd Science

”

Chris Morgan, 2nd Commerce

Twats of the Fortnight Want to know what celebrities are twittering on about these days? Michelle McCormick rounds up this fortnight’s biggest twats for your perusal... @ladygaga warming up for the show. i can hear u screaming from my dressing room. slutty little monsters.

Lady Gaga manages to make herself sound like a serial killer – as if we didn’t suspect it already. It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose. @planetjedward Did anyone when they were really young used to think you could smell through the phone?

I think it’s safe to say that you’re on your own there, boys. It’s a wonder these two don’t hurt themselves more. @tyrabanks EVERYBODY DRINK SOME WATER RIGHT NOW. I HAVEN’T HAD ENOUGH TODAY. NOT GOOD FOR THE ZIT ZAPPING. GOTTA FLUSH

More evidence, as if any was needed, as to the certifiable insanity of Tyra Banks.

If you ever encounter her, probably safest to just back away slowly. @KirstieMAllsopp Archers fans – did Helen know the father of Annette’s baby?

Keepin’ it rock n’ roll there Kirstie. You go on with your bad self. @phlaimeaux just shaken hands with man on train to Harrogate who then told me he loves me in I.T Crowd. ONCE AGAIN, I AM NOT CHRIS O’DOWD David O’Doherty divas out over a case of mistaken identity. To be fair, DOD, Chris O’Dowd is probably famouser.

Take what you can get, dude. otwo

02.02.10

@perezhilton Yeah, bitch! You’re 16.

You’re not a fucking baby! You’re old enough to have another abortion and go to jail!

Objectionable human being and blogger Perez Hilton spares a few choice words for one of his loyal followers. Charming. @heidimontag catching up on sleep! i couldnt fall asleep due to the pain I was in! I am so excited for a new day!

Someone probably should have explained that pain is a side effect of having surgeons chop up your face until it’s basically unrecognisable before she had the surgery.

Resistance is Useless Catherine Maguire is blasted into orbit with Dramsoc’s excellent Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

I

t was highly probable that the adaption of a muchloved book/film/TV series as futuristic as the Hitchhiker’s Guide – requiring the ability to depict amongst other things the infinity outer space and the explosion of Earth – was going to cause a few technical problems for Dramsoc’s stage crew. With some minor computer projections and the flickering of the house lights, however, these extra-terrestrial problems were elegantly overcome with little effort.

Douglas Adams allegedly wrote his most famous work while drunk in an Austrian field. If that’s the truth, the end result is a definite argument on why we should all be allowed to go drinking in fields.

Dramsoc showed great creativity in conjuring a celestial world, as well as reproducing authenticsounding spaceship noises and other bizarre sounds by forming an ad hoc acappella group, and using some interesting face painting to add recognisability to the characters.

Costumes were straightforward and

DRAMA 5

unfussy, while the props were basic and interchangeable.

One thing that added to the performance was, as the director put it, the fact that “the characters are at the same time hysterically outlandish and deeply relatable.” The audience was thus able to see the characters’ personalities played out before them.

Also adding to the general feelgood factor exhuded by the piece was the there was a real sense of camaraderie and fun that one could perceive amongst the cast as they bounced their lines off one another, which only added to the crowd’s enjoyment. Humourous highlights included a pink bra being thrown on stage, and the opening of the play with its dramatic “Bollocks!” line.

Sam McGovern played likeable

protagonist Arthur Dent hilariously, but the standout performance came from Finbarr Doyle, who played alien hitchhiker Ford Prefect uproariously.

It would be unforgiveable, however, not to also honour the commendable performances of Jackie Murphy as Trillian, Katie-Ann Mc Donough as Marvin the Paranoid Android, Conor Kelly as the Guide, and the collective acting duo that was Sharon Moran and Rob O’Donoghue as Zaphod Beeblebox.

Plays like this have the potential to go either really well or really badly.

Thankfully Dramsoc’s attempt was a roaring success, and earned a definite thumbs up in the otwo books. Let’s hope that Dramsoc decide to stage another production in the coming weeks - a return will be welcome.

Dramsoc Preview:

Speed-the-Plow Colin Sweetman enters a world where men have to work their way up, and where women just sleep with a producer The subtitle of this article really only explains a sub-theme of this play. David Mamet’s 1988 piece is essentially about “standing aloof ” in life, or deciding to “take part”. What better place to set such a film, then, than the office of a movie producer? The setting provides a perfect pretext where art, finance and human morals can all congregate in an orgy of desire, greed and power.

Dramsoc’s production is quite a boisterous one. Dialogue between the two protagonists Bobby Gould (Colm-Kenny Vaughan) and Charlie Fox (Gavin Drea) is orchestrated in call-and-response, as each drives and bounces increasingly forceful responses off the other.

This method of storytelling makes the play difficult not to watch. I had gotten no sleep the night before I watched Dramsoc’s preview, and had even fallen asleep in a class a few hours prior. Watching a preview

performance in a small Arts Block classroom, however, Dramsoc’s Speedthe-Plow had me all eyes and ears. It is simply too difficult not to be captivated.

You might also think that, while both actors speak very quickly to each other, you may not be able to follow what they’re saying – but, in fact, they speak on the same topic so often that the general plot neatly unfurls itself in the mind of the bystander.

Elsewhere, Laura Linehan is convincing as the “do-whatever-I-haveto-do” temporary secretary, Karen, who sleeps with Bobby in order to get a movie made on her behalf. otwo

02.02.10

The first half of the play is fast-paced and fluid, busy setting up character personas and generally outlaying lifestyles. The third quarter takes a slower tone, however, providing no lighthearted material for the audience to binge on – it could almost be argued that it’s too intense.

Then… boom! The setup erupts at the end into what feels like decades of pent-up pressure and bottled-up emotions. While Bobby remains idle, silent and calm, Charlie finally explodes in a fit of rage, having been “riding Bobby’s coattails” for too long only to have a small-time temp swoon in, have sex, and get on top of him.

The contrast from the earlier scenes is genuinely impressive and could potentially wake the dead with a shot of its adrenaline.

Anyway, I’ll let you find the deeper meaning of it. I’m too busy doing other things like catching up on my sleep.

Speed-the-Plow runs from today until Friday at 7pm in Theatre LG1, Newman Building. Tickets €4 (€3 for members).

6 MUSIC

Mixtape

A Mixtape to Get Dumped To When good relationships, friendships, and acquaintances go bad, Grace Duff y’s on hand with the tunes Brand – ‘Seventy Times’ Jesse Lacey: “So you’ve slept with my girlfriend?

Wonderful. Allow me to write you this charming ballad of vengeful hatred and expose to the world that the best I want from you now is to ‘choke and die’.”

Taking Back Sunday – ‘There’s No “I” In Team’ John Nolan : “So you [Lacey] wrote a bitchy song about me and played it to the world? Marvellous.

Allow me to respond by saying you brought it on yourself and besides, being best friends means you ‘got what you deserved’.”

The White Stripes – ‘Blue Orchid’ Perhaps the best way to diss your ex is to deny the song is even about her. Oh, and marry the model in the video less than a month after meeting her (and roughly six months after you dumped said ex), of course.

Marilyn Manson – ‘(s)AINT’ Ah, Marilyn Manson: always a man to be relied upon for some colourful insults pertaining to his fellow celebrities. Particularly if they’ve had the misfortune to go out with the guy, as Rose McGowan was informed via lyrics such as “I’ve got an F and a C, and I’ve got a K too, and the only the thing that’s missing is a b*tch like you.”

accusation. The resulting musical middle finger is tongue-in-cheek; the song’s rather catchy.

Pink – ‘So What?’

Getting over a Failed Marriage 101: release an album entitled I’m Not Dead and headline it with a brash, irreverent piece of fun in which you tell your reprehensible ex that he’s a “tool.” The glass is always half full chez Pink.

Nightwish – ‘Bye Bye Beautiful’ How best to claim you’re not obsessed with someone: deny the bazillion unrequited love songs you’ve written are about her, fire her for good measure, then write a new song to take aim at her failure to “listen to what we played”. Maybe I’m speculating, but the man’s certainly not a good loser.

Ashlee Simpson – ‘Boyfriend’ Way back when, before Lindsay Lohan was a lesbian/media whore/car crash, she took offence to Ashlee Simpson having the craic with her boyfriend; Ashlee in turn took offence to the

Evanescence – ‘Call Me When You’re Sober’ Not one to come a begrudging second to alcohol, Amy Lee cuts Shaun “Seether” Morgan loose with a warbling tirade of self-righteous discontent.

Take that, you guzzling nincompoop!

Justin Timberlake – ‘Cry Me A River’ Who would have our Justin was so... deep?! Damn you, Britney Spears! He was so romantic once.

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02.02.10

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ATTEMPTS MUSIC 7

otwo attempts : Being Beautiful

Just how easy is it to find a girlfriend on the internet? Peter Molloy becomes a Beautiful Person to find out

M

eet Hank Shandley - he’s a Beautiful Person. He must be, because both he and his picture have been accepted on to the eponymous US dating website.

The site famously culled thousands of its members during the post-holiday season after they gained a few too many festive pounds. So how would otwo fare on the site with one simple admission policy: if you’re good-looking, you get in.

it’s been raining so much though! I like rain on occasion, it’s refreshing..honestly, I saw this site in a documentary I watched. It was about America & its shallowness. lol I was just curious to see what people thought of my looks. thanks btw. I think you’re cute yourself! I love SD too :)

Shandley is also completely, breath-takingly fictitious. Far from being a bronzed West Coast Psych student and all-round nice guy, he’s the creatively lazy creation of a maliciously-minded Features Editor, cooped up for far too long in a dark corner of UCD’s Student Centre.

Hank wrote: Hey! It’s so great to hear from you! Well, I did drive for a while; but then I got really worried about the Global Warming Economic Downturn so I decided to do my bit and stop. Now, I just jog everywhere – it takes me a lot longer (sometimes days) depending on where I’m going, but I think it’s

So, just how long could Shandley survive in the cut-throat (and heartbreak) world of online dating? Well it wasn’t too long before his gleaming bio had a bite in the form of Jayne. ***

Hank Shandley wrote: Hi Jayne! Sure I’ll rate ya! Where are you at in the ‘States?

Hank x

“I’m not a jogger but I

Jayne wrote: I’m from southern Ca and yourself?

I hope you rated me well!

Hank Shandley wrote: I’m from west San Diego – gotta dig that crazy Cali sunshine! Of course I rated you well – a pretty face gets me every time! So what brings you to the site?

Jayne wrote:

Hank wrote: Hey, you’re right, you know! I don’t mean to sound too forward, but how would you feel about maybe going on a date?

Jayne wrote: hmm that’s a possibility but I think we should get to know each other maybe a little more.

Plus, I’ll be out of town the next couple weeks. Here’s something about me, I love travelling. I’m road-tripping it up to Portland & Seattle. Tell me somethings about you! Do you really not have a car? How could anyone live w/o one when you live in cali?! Lol

Shandley, a non-smoking Californian, is in his midtwenties and is working his way through a Psychology PhD in the University of San Diego. Despite his academic commitments, he still finds the time to help out with orphans on the weekends.

Jayne wrote: I’m new. Will you rate me? :)

Jayne wrote: well don’t be a stranger! we are neighbours after all ;)

jazzercise!”

Hank wrote: Which is why I miss that super SD sunshine!

Well I’m loving your looks from here, you’ve got a full two thumbs up from me! I’m kinda in the same boat, heard so many funky stories in the news media so just wanted to check it out, lol. Getting to talk to people like you, though, I’m starting to see that there might be an upside to Beautiful People… otwo

02.02.10

worth it!

About myself… hmmm, well I’m currently in the middle of my Psychology PhD, so that takes a good amount of time, lol! I still like to help out with the orphans at the weekend though.

How about you – how do you like to let your hair down?

Jayne wrote: haha jog huh? I’m not a jogger but I jazzercise!

Ya sounds silly but it’s a workout combo of dance, cardio & strength training to diff songs for an hr.

That’s something I do..Phych major? What school do you go to? I’m not sure exactly what I want to major in, if I do major in anything at all that is. I was going to do nursing but right now I fell like college just isn’t for me..in high school I went down to Mexico on missions trips to help out at orphanages. Do you do that w/ a church or is it just something you have a passion for? [continued overleaf...]

8 ATTEMPTS

otwo attempts Hank wrote: Jazzercising, huh? That sure sounds like fun and a great way to keep in shape! I oughta try that myself! All that jogging and digitally assisted right arm toning does me just great for the moment, but I always like new ways to keep fit!

I’m in USD right now at the moment. Yep Psych has always been my passion: I just feel that this world is such an amazing place, so it thrills me to get to know how all the people in it work!

Nursing sure is such a worthwhile thing to do - you should definitely think about it! Take your time about deciding to go to college though, there’s no need to hurry yourself. There sure is a whole lot to be said for maybe taking a year out and trying some volunteer work in Iraq or Afghanistan or something.

The orphan thing I do myself, it just gives me such a warm feeling. I got very put off it about a year ago after Timmy’s accident; but after a while I realised that he probably would have back-flipped out that window any way, even if I hadn’t fallen asleep, lol!!

So, tell me a little bit more about this road-trip of yours, sounds way intriguing!

Jayne wrote: haha jazzercise is a total girl thing. what is digitally assisted right arm toning?

I’m totally excited about my road trip! Just going w/ a friend and stopping in Sac a night then up to Portland. Have you been to the north west? It’s so beautiful & green. It’ll be my third time to go.

There are lots of good places to eat & the culture is so much more laid back then in Cali. There’s lots of art & good music, if you’re into that thing.

Night life is fun too. Then Seattle, I was there once but didn’t get to really go around like I wanted to.

I want to visit Pike Place Market which is this huge place w/ all different international food & great seafood. Both cities have great live music too.

Can you tell I like food? I also love to cook it. lol people say I’m good at it so I suppose I am.

That’s one of my hobbies. I also am into photo & painting. That’s another thing I’m looking forward to on the trip; taking lots of photos!

I don’t know what else..haha do you at least like what you know about me so far?

So you like your art and culture, eh? I really dig that stuff, pictures in books are always so great, lol!!

Hobbywise, I was quite into ornithology when I was younger – me and a few of the guys would go out searching most weekends, and we’d usually manage to tick a few off our lists!

So how soon are you going?

Hank wrote: Gosh, would you actually make me a meal? You’d have to know my favourite dish first, though? x Jayne wrote: ok what’s your favorite food?

Hank wrote: Well, it’s a little bit obscure, but my Grandparents were Irish Poles and there was a really nice regional specialty they used to give me whenever I’d stay with them. Have you ever had a hand-

“What is digitally assisted right arm toning?”

Jayne wrote: bird watching?..nice, I’ve never done that.

I’m glad you like to eat almost everyday. lol Maybe I could make you something on one of the days you decide to eat!

I am venturing out next week Mon. and be back in a week and a half or so.

Hank wrote: Hey again, you! Digitally assisted right arm toning is a really super way of working on all those muscle groups. I like to crack a few off late most nights (wouldn’t wanna wake anyone up, lol!!).

Gosh, that road trip sure does sound exciting.

I’ve never been up that far, but I’d absolutely love to be able to live in a place that’s really green and lush – couldn’t imagine what that’s like! I’m quite a big food person myself, too – I like to eat almost every day. otwo

02.02.10

shandy?

Jayne wrote: have I ever masturbated? yes I have With this, Hand Shandley - suspecting that the game was up all along - threw in the towel. And they said breaking up was hard to do...

c racking t he code

MUSIC 9

Do you hear that, Mr Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability. Jake O’Brien chats with Irish outfit Codes’ front man Daragh Anderson

S

ometimes one fears pretense when interviewing an ‘indie-electronic’ band. Chatting with Codes’ frontman Daragh Anderson, though, all fears are laid to rest - even as he describes Codes’ output as “soundtrack music, mixed with electronic music, mixed with stadium rock.”

Anderson’s early influences read like a receipt for an obese family’s weekly shopping, including music from every walk of life - from the Beach Boys and Queen, through classical inspiration from the likes of Tchaikovsky, Anderson likes his aural musings thick and thin. “I guess the short answer would be...everything is an influence in one way or another, be it good or bad, be it what not to do or what to do.”

To his credit, Anderson has stayed modest amidst his band’s rise to prominence. Codes book-ended their ascent with a spot at Oxegen ’08, and gigs in the Odyssey and O2 in January 2009 supporting Keane – performances which have “now been benchmarked as the biggest gigs.”

To ignorant writers like myself, playing a venue like The O2 might seem pressurising.

It’s been three years since we’ve heard from Wicklow’s Fionn Regan, but the Mercury Prize nominee of 2007 is back once again – though not in the model you may remember.

Debut effort The End of History highlighted the songwriter’s capability to create music that was both honest and subtle, and ultimately earned him a ticket to Nashville. A then 27-year-old Regan worked with such renowned producers as Ethan Johns (a previous producer for Kings of Leon, Ray LaMontagne and Rufus Wainwright), and set about cutting a second album on the Lost Highway label.

Fionn recalls this chapter with a somewhat heavy heart. Like an artist who was commissioned to paint a picture, Regan was given “his colours and his canvas,” but later discovered that the record company “thought the trees would be tilting the other way and there would be a lot more water out the front.” In the end, Fionn decided to bail of his own accord.

“I reversed out the drive and found myself on the deck of the ship; the captain was gone, and I had hold [sic] onto the steering wheel.”

It was not long, however, before the American Country and Western scene took note of the 5’4” Paddy with the eclectic finger-picking

Regan’s

Yet, for the singer on the other end of the line, it is not so. “It’s funny, I thought it would be [daunting], but I think it’s a little more disconnected than you would feel at a more intimate show.”

This man cannot be fazed. Or can he?

While considering the recording of the band’s debut album Trees in Algebra, Anderson recounts general difficulties: “We had a couple of tough moments because we were on a really tight time scale and because we were recording it on our own money.” However, this ensured the band were “really clinical about the decisions” they made in the studio.

Anderson has found a rational solution to the pressing problems of the recording studio. “Once you let go and you realise that you’re not trying to record the song as a definitive thing... you’re capturing it as a moment.”

As a frontman, Anderson is bringing a striking clarity to the shallow levels of a venal industry. His simple reasoning and rationale allow for an honest understanding of a truthful band. That said, one can only guess where Codes will go from here.

Rockin’ Return After three years in the shadows, John Gallagher watches Fionn Regan return to the spotlight

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style, with admirers including multi Grammy-winning performer Lucinda Williams. A baby-faced Regan was “taken in, so to speak” by the experienced Louisianan artist.

Since then, the troubador from Bray has returned to Ireland to record and release his long-awaited sophomore album, Shadow of an Empire. The opus might take some fans by surprise; a transition best illustrated in the words “Regan goes electric” sees the folkster release the rocker within. “There’s no rules with music,” declares Regan. “You move from thing to thing. This time around I’ve gone for an edgier sound. God knows where I’ll go next!”

Like all works of art, Regan’s album was not a simple or rushed affair, and tells various characters stories in a humorous and engaging manner. “It was like digging to another country with a teaspoon,” jests Regan, describing the albummaking process. Regan also feels the album should be listened to in its entirety, saying, “I don’t think you’ll understand this record if you hear one or two tunes. You need to sit down with the record as a whole, otherwise you might get on the back of the wrong horse.”

Shadow of an Empire is out Friday.

Regan plays Vicar St on 15th March.

10 COLUMNS

It’s Jamie’s world... we just live in it Underage drinking and dislocated shoulders… all in two weeks with Jamie Martin will never know why the Irish have a reputation of being hospitable. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to knock the nation, but anyone who travels abroad will soon discover that we have been given a false label. Last week while visiting my friend in California I got a taste of American college life.

My local friend is a frat boy, and I’m staying in his frat house. Pulling up to the house I had images of every American college movie I had ever seen. I imagined meeting guys called Boner or Poodragon, who spend their time giving nerds wedgies or tea bagging each other.

The reality, however, was very different.

Myself and my friends had only been ten minutes in the house before people were wandering up to us introducing themselves. Everyone was so friendly. I happened to be the only one of my group under the age of twenty-one, meaning that nobody in my company would be allowed into a bar, but this didn’t seem to be an issue for anybody – especially as there was always something going on in the house, though I still wanted to check out the nightlife.

I got talking to some of the older frat guys one night over a game of Beer Pong (the single best game ever invented, by the way) and they said they would bring me out. Now, when these guys say ‘bring you out’, they mean it. I was first brought to a bar that specialised in a cocktail that was famous for its effects on the drinker. The guys of Delta Sig insisted that I try it, at their own expense. We then moved to a nightclub where I was brought in ahead of the huge line and bought more drinks.

This is the reason I question Ireland’s famed reputation of hospitality. I can’t imagine any of my friends bringing a complete stranger out and treating them

AGONY ANTO

so well. Even in the bars, people just stroll up to you and start chatting away. In Ireland, people need to have very little liver left before they start talking to strangers.

The holiday itself was fantastic. We left the university to go skiing in Lake Tahoe on the Nevada border, which meant gambling. We swung by an Indian casino and I blew twenty dollars on the roulette table.

Never bet on black.

The holiday wasn’t without its upsets for me, however. Standing at the top of the ski slope, skis on my feet and poles in my hands, I realised I hadn’t been skiing in five years and could remember nothing on how to start. The first time I tried to get on the ski lift I slipped, dropped one pole, and my ski pants came down. My friend grabbed me and I clawed my way onto the lift with one hand while trying to recover my trousers with the other.

After about thirty falls and one run I finally got the hang of skiing again, or so I thought. I accidentally got on the wrong lift and ended up at the top of a black diamond slope where I fell and dislocated my shoulder.

No one being around, my only option was to pop it back into place myself and ski down the rest of the slope.

I ask in advance that you pardon my terrible pun, but autosurgery like that is not as cool (groan) as it sounds.

As sure as there’s a hole in yer arse, I swear to Jaysus dese letters came teh me. Promise.

Dear Anto, I have quiet an embarrassing problem.

Basically, whenever I piss, I shake the lad and put him to bed. However, when he put to bed, he leaks a little more pee, sometimes it can take a few minutes for the rest to come out.

It’s not cool having piss in your underpants.

Also, if I go into bed with my girlfriend I have to avoid her with my knob or wear boxers until it finishes because, as you know, most girls don’t get off on pissy cocks.

I wipe it with tissue and sometimes I shake it to the point where I’m practically wanking and it makes mo difference. I have what’s called an endo-cyst in my balls and my girlfriend reckons this might have something to do with the leakage. So I’m wondering if this is a common thing that everyone gets or there’s something I can do about it.

By the way I’m 23 years old so I’m not too old for this type of thing to start happening to me.

Thanks, Willie Howiye Willie, Are yeh sure yudder not just takin’ a piss? I read sumthin about this where males of dis species piss der sleeping place to mark dier territory. Nutin to be wurried about.

Sum remedies that wurrick wud be to piss on yer burd before goin to the otwo

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jacks. Not too much – just a bit, and den do yur bizness in the jacks. Dis should shake off the subconscious need to piss after you’ve already dun yur spring-cleaning. Although, I’m aware dis doesn’t solve yur initial problem.

I tink de only ting for you to do wud be to get yurself a burd who’s into that type of shit. Udderwise you’ve no hope of findin’ a partner for life.

Maybe yur pants are too tight, or maybe yur just secretly a disgusting fooker. Try boards.ie for an answer.

Yours, Anto ~~ Dear sir/madam, please print the attached photograph of New York in your publication.

Yours faithfully, Ryan Kelly Dear Ryanser, Eh, no. Yer photo is more shi’ than that scene in Slumdog Millionaire where de fella jumps into de lav. Yur letters really have to stop. It’s just takin’ the piss at this point. You have problems even I caddint solve.

Yurs, Anto If you have a problem that needs solving, email at anto@universityobserver.ie.

Follow him at twitter.com/agonyanto.

BOOK REVIEWS

REVIEWS 11

A Book for the Smart-Arse Umer Rashid reads a book about a know-it-all, in the hope of maybe becoming... well, a know-it-all Here’s a question that might get you thinking. Do you know why the world’s largest bell never rang?

Who remarked that Venice would be a great city if it were drained?

May be you are intrigued about the Etruscan way of writing in ‘boustrophedon style’, or fancy the careers of ‘Abbot of Unreason’ and ‘Lord of Misrule’.

Whether you aim to ace a quiz competition, want to impress everyone with how smart you are, or are genuinely moved by your innate thirst for knowledge, you might be tempted to collect such gems of wisdom.

Being convinced that his job as Esquire editor was increasingly eroding his smarts, The KnowIt-All sees AJ Jacobs embarks on reading all 32 volumes of the 2002 Encyclopaedia Britannica – all of 33,000 pages containing

44 million words. Withstanding the ridicule and discouragement from his friends and family, he takes classes in speed-reading and memory enhancement to absorb the sheer volume of information.

He joins Mensa, participates in the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, and wins a place in Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

During his year-long expedition of knowledge hunting, Jacobs comes across some of the most grotesque and surprising facts about almost everything under the sun. He learns about some of the most inspirational personalities in every walk of the life, as well as those who make one ashamed of being a human. He gets to appreciate the transient nature of life as he stumbles upon the myriads of conquerors and emperors being relegated to the

dustbin of history and known to nobody except history buffs.

His liberal outlook on cultural relativism gets dented as he learns about some customs of “preliterate” cultures. The entries on the world’s foremost writers and scientists become a painful realization for him how little he has done with his life.

Jacobs is depressed to know that Asimov authored more books than the total number of post-it notes he has authored to date. On the other hand, he is inspired by overcoming-the-odds stories such as that of pool champion Willie Mosconi who practiced with potatoes and a broomstick after his father forbade him to play pool.

With his candour and selfdeprecating humour, Jacobs makes an apparently boring and tedious task of reading an encyclopedia

look like a hilarious account of riding an emotional rollercoaster.

The Know-It-All is a piece of work that will inform and entertain in the same breath.

The Kindness of Strangers A dodgy book isn’t the ideal birthday present, but Alex Court found out that sometimes a book you mightn’t have bought for yourself can turn out to be an amazing and invaluable source of inspiration My birthday is not an occasion I celebrate with much gusto. I’m not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s because my parents brought me up badly. Who knows? I don’t like my birthday, and I don’t have to justify why.

I don’t grab my gifts with elation.

The wrapping paper often hides pleasant objects, but opening them ceremoniously makes me feel uncomfortably scrutinised.

“Its only ‘cos they love me,” I’m constantly reminded.

Like so many, there’s always one particular present I have to fake my surprise/joy/gratitude with. This year it was a book with a blackgrey cover. About as enticing as an empty, window-less room painted sludgy brown. The Kindness of Strangers was the title my eyes read as my cheeks stung with a fake smile. After everybody had gone back to ignoring me (thank God!) I

peeked inside the covers.

Turns out that my gift may have been the best thing that has ever happened to me. That’s perhaps an exaggeration, but only just. The 26 lively, interesting, fun stories are refreshing and revitalising. I rationed myself one story a night; resisting gluttony to eek out this happiness as long as I could.

Each story, with settings ranging from Uganda to Russia to Algeria, simply explains one situation one person was in. The central character is vulnerable, alone and isolated, before one person helps them. It is special simplicity.

A possible favourite is set on a small Hawaiian island. The character is driving his rented car when disaster strikes and the reader’s stress levels peak. As you start thinking this story was meant for a horror anthology, he is saved – not by a friend or relative, but otwo

by someone who’s never met him before.

The book’s angelic lifesavers are the inspiration, as they have the purest intentions. They aren’t looking for praise or thanks; they simply see someone in need of a helping hand and they give freely.

It’s a beautiful message to remind yourself of in these days of banking probes and global warming – people help one another in unexpected ways every day. It also works well within a busy schedule: read a story on the bus to college, on a lazy Sunday, before you go to bed, or if you need a college break.

Flexible yet enduring, it is excellent all round.

Entering the soft sumptuous garden of the book for the first time, I encountered the slightly spiky sentence, “I believe in Kindness, rather as religious people believe in God.” Cringe and crap, I 02.02.10

thought. By then end of the book, I understood what was meant, and couldn’t agree more. Maybe my next birthday will be better, but I really doubt it.

The Kindness of Strangers is written by Katrina Kittle.

12 TRAVEL

Kris on a Bike: A cycle to the Cyclades Taking his diary with him on his Greek Odyssey, Kris

Goodbody tells us the last of his Greek memories

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e stumbled off the boat into the merciless heat of a Greek afternoon, wine still sloshing in our stomachs, and hazy memories of planned day-trips with Turkish truck drivers and lawless wrestling matches with hordes of wry Italians.

It was in this unenviable state that we made our way to the nearest internet cafe for the dual purposes of planning out our route and availing of their air conditioning.

On sitting down I noticed that the gentleman to my right was openly viewing the sort of gay porn that would make Boy George blush. After a brief meeting with the lads it was decided that it’d be sleeping arseto-wall and with one eye open from then until Athens.

The days on the bike were some of the toughest on the trip so far; temperatures prancing around 40°C and the threat of a bumming

from every angle can do terrible things to a man. For the first time on the trip we managed to become separated into two groups after an otwo

ill-advised turn on my part; while half of our group managed to find a campsite, I was left to make my bed in the car park of a rural pub.

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The last night before we made the push for Athens we spent on an out-of-the-way beach with the dim lights of the city in the distance; I recalled our first night where we slept at an old pub in Courtown where I imagined where our last night might be spent, a continent away. I went to sleep struggling to imagine a better place.

Our trip had brought us from country roads winding their way through rare days of dappled sunshine back home in Ireland, to seemingly endless, barren stretches of highway ploughing through the deserts of north Spain; from seeing cities slowly rise and build as we coasted through their hinterlands toward grand centres, to gripping tightly to sweaty handlebars as we juggled imminent danger and magnificent views on treacherous mountain passes; from sleeping on rough ground in pit stops on the edges of motorways; clutching knives for the impression of safety, to drinking all night to the sound of street music in sleepless cities. It had become a collection of experiences worlds apart, tied together by the constant roll of wheels towards our goal.

That was the goal we had reached as we stood on the deck of a ship pulling out of Pariaus Harbour.

I remember fleetingly looking towards Turkey, imagining the Bosphorus and the new continent that lay on the other side with a whole wealth of experiences waiting…waiting, of course, for another time as I was headed for the Cyclades Islands and a month of kite surfing and drinking with some good friends.

As I write this six months later, nostalgia is creeping in and I can guarantee myself that my memories will only become more gold-tinted and romantic as the years go on – because very simply, those six weeks of cycling were fucking unbelievable.

Read all five instalments of Kris’s diary as he cycled from Blackrock to Greece online by visiting http://short.ie/kris.

TRAVEL 13

J1 Special: New York Hey buddy, I’m writin’ here! In the second part of our J1 Special, Eoin Brady gives you the lowdown on the Big Apple

N

ew York City: so good they named it twice, albeit after a popular fruit.

New York is an obvious choice for the aspiring J1 traveller – it’s a city of immigrants, with more than a third of its populace born in another country.

Surely, then, there will be plenty of Irish to make Little Paddy J1er feel right at home?

Well, no. As a J1 destination, New York only pays off for people who seeking more than paddywhackery and pints. (If they’re all you’re looking for, you can get them with markedly less stress and expense elsewhere – holiday destinations like San Diego, Ocean City or the Jersey Shore have more readymade short-term job openings for the nascent beach bum. otwo covered this in the last issue; you can read it online.)

At this point, the traditional delayedgratification template of advice articles, where the reader must slog through two paragraphs of scaremongering before they get to the good stuff, is going to be inverted for fear of scaring everyone off. The Fun Stuff New York has a spectacular selection of nightlife on offer. World-famous superclub Pacha has a presence in Manhattan and draws big names like Marco V and David Guetta on a weekly basis. More interestingly, New York is at the cutting edge of niche scenes: many clubs run nights where producers drop dubstep tracks they’ve put together earlier that day.

The point is that if you’re enthusiastic about something – whatever it may be – there are creative, intelligent, trendy people doing it well in New York. This is one of the city’s unique selling points – whether you want lofi, inventive theatre (The Chocolate Factory), cheeky, hip, second-hand clothes (Beacon’s Closet) or delightful handmade cupcakes (Magnolia Bakery – of Sex and the City fame), or even something properly weird that nobody in Dublin except you is remotely interested in or has even heard of, New York has it.

Another – much less specific – activity that makes the work-and-accommodation

stress worthwhile is that of simply wandering around. New York is mind-bendingly diverse, yet simultaneously homogenous. This apparent contradiction is due to there being so many people of each little subgroup of humanity in New York: for example, there are tens of thousands of Hispanic people in Bushwick, where streetside conversation takes place overwhelmingly through Spanish. On Sunday mornings, Costa Rican mammies stand outside the churches selling 50c bags of homemade puffed corn from shopping trollies. Twenty minutes away, in a part of Williamsburg, people are uniformly Hassidic Jewish and wear black formal clothes, as the men all sport the same hairstyle (uncut sideburns framing their bearded faces). In contrast to this social conservatism, just five minutes’ walk north from there is the hipster enclave, where everyone has an arts degree, a fixie and an ironic moustache.

Weeks would be well spent in New York just strolling around, paying attention, and taking occasional pitstops for falafel, sushi or pizza by the slice. otwo

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The Unfun Stuff: Work The level of difficulty associated with getting a job in New York as a J1 student leads to considerable numbers having Hobbesian summers every year: nasty, brutish and short.

Having applied for quite a few jobs during a stressful June (pizza delivery boy, cutlery salesman, actuarial intern) and actually tried a few others (pedicab driver, comedy club ticket seller, doorman), I can state with a degree of hard-earned authority that the single best way to get a job as a J1 students in New York is to know someone. Dig out the family phonebook, and give the cousins a ring. They may be your third cousins that your granny met one in 1954, but they are probably friendly, generous and much better connected than you. Incidentally, the single worst way to get a job as a J1 student in New York is Craigslist.

The Unfun Stuff: Accommodation Book somewhere for the first few nights before you go. This will save you considerable stress and at least $60 a night. If you intend to go alone (something this writer wholeheartedly recommends), consider a long-term hostel for at least the first month. Just be wary when making your booking, and ensure you’ll be staying with interns, students and tourists instead of recovering heroin addicts. If you’d prefer an apartment to a hostel, locations outside Manhattan but near subway lines tend to be more reasonably priced while remaining convenient.

The Unfun Stuff: How Not To Be Cool There are certain activities that it is acceptable to partake in during only the first week of being in New York. Beyond that, one risks being made the subject of ridicule and isolation for doing any of the following: wearing an IRFU jersey; wearing an ‘I heart NY’ t-shirt, buying giant salty pretzels in Central Park, buying rap CDs from chancers in Times Square, and buying comedy-club tickets from chancers in Times Square.

To read Eoin’s New York J1 diary, visit http://short.ie/EoinNYC.

Lords Lucan

They’re the terrible twosome we hate to love, but love nonetheless.

As they release their first single, X Factor twins John and Edward talk exclusively to Gavan Reilly about life on Planet Jedward

A

sk people what they love or hate about John and Edward Grimes and you’ll receive a remarkable diversity of answers. Is it the hair? The hyperactivity? The dress sense? The Southside-cum-Californian accent? The fact there’s two of them?

Whichever side of the fence you’re on, it’s impossible to deny that the rise and rise of John and Edward has been an irresistible sight in the last months. From a gentle lap of rumour in early autumn to an unstoppable flood of Jedmania

by November, it’s been a remarkable six months for the 18-year-old Lucan twins, abandoning student anonymity at the Institute to become an all-conquering, pop-cultural über-phenomenon.

Jedward are a hurricane: of passion, of enthusiasm, of goodwill, of hate, of publicity, and of enormous eco-suffocating quantities of hairspray.

As they speak to otwo from a London hotel where they’re camped for the night awaiting the broadcast of their slot on Friday Night with

Jonathan Ross, otwo gets the sense that not even the twins themselves anticipated the whirlwind their lives would become in the last six months.

“We used to run in UCD,” says Edward as otwo introduces itself, recalling their brief return to Belfield when they reunited with members of Dundrum Athletic Club on a week off from The X Factor. “I remember the whole crowd and all the support there…”

His older brother by ten minutes, John, interrupts with the first of infinitely many protracted sentences. “One girl was at the track, and then everyone started texting each other, and then the crowd started to build, and then lots of our friends heard and went running into class and said, ‘Jedward are on the track!’, and loads of people just left class!”

The lads are piqued by mentions of their trip home – one of their few respites from their newfound sequestered lifestyle (their tour manager even answers the phone for otwo’s interview with the words “Hello, Big Brother’s household?”).

Mindful of the Jedwardian propensity to wander

off-topic at a half-second’s notice, otwo starts by asking just how wild the leap from obscurity to fame has been. Jedward, immediately, collectively disregard the question. “I think we’re so grateful that we have our first single out,” offers John; “It’s kinda cool because it’s out in Ireland first,” supplements Edward. otwo asks if there’s been anything disappointing about fame – and again, gets the answer to a different question entirely.

“I think it’s mad that, like, twenty years ago, even before we were born… I can’t believe we’re getting to collaborate with Vanilla Ice,” blurts Edward.

“It’s like a huge compliment to him [sic] that we’re doing it. We were doing the video on Wednesday and it’s going to be a really, really good music video.”

Sensing that the twins might need prompting to defect from promotional mode, otwo changes tack and offers questions that might be slightly less novel to teenage twins: how does one tell John and Edward apart? “On the show we always used to stand like ‘John and Edward’ anyway, because our names were like, ‘John and Edward’ and it wasn’t

‘Jedward’,” says Edward, somewhat cryptically.

“Now that’s Jedward’s stuck and we’re going by Jedward as our name… did I answer that?” Eh, not really.

Luckily John steps in with a more salient answer.

“I used to have blonder hair, I have a pointy right ear, my teeth are more crookeder, I have a scar on my nose… I have a scar set on my left eye. I’ve got a scar on my forehead. And that’s it.” In response, Edward reveals a solitary scar on his upper lip.

Having apparently been through more wars than his younger sibling, does John feel short-changed that only his initial has made it into his group’s title? Evidently not. “I think it’s kinda cool, because, like, our fans came up with the name and it’s just the way it worked out, because it’s both John and Edward. My name isn’t that long anyway, it’s only four letters – it couldn’t go, ‘Je-hon-ward’! That’d be a bit weird.”

It is precisely this type of joie de vivre that has allowed the Grimes boys to capture the hearts and imaginations of (some of) the baying public.

Initially appearing in The X Factor as the token Irish caricatures, Jedward’s steadfast good humour, stubbornness and patience quickly found favour with the show’s millions of voters who saved the twins week-after-week, coining the name ‘Jedward’ and the chant ‘Jed We Can’ along the way.

Ultimately only Dannii Minogue’s casting vote could send Jedward packing as the judges voted to expend the twins in favour of eventual runner-up Olly Murs.

But how disappointing was it, having reached the final six, not to win outright? Edward offers a sage

thought. “I feel like, me and John... we do what we want to do. If we’d stayed in the show longer, we would have done even more, [but] I feel like we’ve progressed as singers and performers. We’ve done 70 shows of our own since the show ended; we’ve got to meet loads of our fans. Our fanbase is getting bigger and bigger.”

Not everyone is on the Grimes’ side, however.

Their juvenile humour and inability to dance infuriated many who saw their presence in The X Factor as detrimental to the chances of other, more apparently talented acts – especially after the boys eliminated the undeniably more talented Lucie Evans thanks to a rare moment of pity from Simon Cowell. It is striking that the twins are at their most profound when discussing the downsides to fame and the desire of their ‘haters’ to see them fail.

“I think when we went into the programme we knew that people were going to have a personal opinion of me and Edward,” explains John. “We’re cool with people who don’t like, or who hate or criticise us. It’s good if you’ve made an impression and everyone has an opinion of you because with a lot of people it’s ‘they’re amazing’ and people can’t say that they’re not. People have a choice with me and Edward… It’s cool that they can come out openly and say, ‘I hate John and Edward’. They’re promoting us in a way.”

Somewhat inevitably, this moment of genuine insight

– leaving otwo in no doubt that the twins have been personally impacted upon by public criticism – proves to be a mere interlude in the madcap pinball minds of the excitable Dubs. otwo poses a quandary: what would Jedward have done if only one of them had been wanted for The X Factor? Both twins laugh. “I dunno! We wouldn’t have done it! That’d be a bit weird,” contemplates Edward. “We’re together. We wouldn’t have done it without each other.”

John interrupts. “Do you go to college in UCD?” Eh… yes. “How old are you?” 23. “Oh cool.” Baffled but unbowed, otwo broaches the subject of college.

Given their experience and evident affinity to Belfield, might we someday see Jedward in UCD as students? “Yeah, we were gonna go to UCD…” offers John. “…Or something like that. A college like that.” Edward disagrees. “I always wanted to go to Trinity, or do running over in America in one of those colleges. One of those Ivy League schools.”

Quick as a flash, Jedward return to commercial mode. otwo elects to indulge them as they grow excited at thoughts of their impending single release – a mashup of ‘Under Pressure’ and ‘Ice Ice Baby’, featuring Vanilla Ice. “It comes out on the 12th of February on physical release, and it’s not like a normal single, it’s like an album case!” enthuses John, “and it comes with a poster – it comes with a double-sided poster – and it comes with the lyrics.

And then there’s the actual CD.” As the clock ticks on and the pre-determined hanging-up time approaches, otwo sneaks a prerequisite question: just how is the Jedward Quiff™ achieved? “Sometimes people who do our hair back-comb, get a clear brush and hairspray and just put it together,” John recounts.

“You could just get a tech-styling paste or a wax and just put it all through it and say you’re in a rush. But if you want to get a real polished, slick look, you have to do it with a hairdryer. You know how most people need a hair stylist to do their hair?

We’re low maintenance, we’re able to do it ourselves.”

Before the interview ends, there are three final questions. The boys regularly tweet to Taylor Swift: do they fancy her? “Yeah, she’s pretty cool,” says John sheepishly.

What words of wisdom can Jedward offer UCD students? “Tell them to relax with their exams,” says Edward, plugging, “Don’t be ‘Under Pressure’.”

Finally, what would life be like on Planet Jedward? Grimes the Younger concludes: “It’s not, like, literally a planet… it’s a lifestyle. I think it’d be a really cool place.” Maybe when they’re rich and famous, they could acquire an extra-terrestrial plot? “Just buy it…

A mark on the moon, or something.

Then everyone can see it from Earth.”

With the enthusiasm in his voice as he says it, otwo senses that it might not be so crazy to believe him. There could one day be a giant blond quiff in the sky, watching from above - such is the power of Planet Jedward.

Jedward’s single, ‘Under Pressure (Ice Ice Baby)’ featuring Vanilla Ice, is available for download now. www.planetjedward.net

16 FASHION

Alan Taylor.

Photo credit Peter Fingleton.

otwo

02.02.10

FASHION 17

Tinker.

Taylor.

Soldier.

Sailor.

Your last year in college is not just about those pesky exams. Alan Taylor, a soonto-be-familiar name in chic, talks to Seán McGovern about fashion design, Alexander McQueen and what’s to come after his graduation

W

hen you see the person you plan to interview on the conver of The Dubliner, and know that they spent last summer interning with Alexander McQueen, you wonder for a moment whether you’d rather just interview them over the phone.

But even with his effortless style, in a debonair suit skillfully rolling two cigarettes, Alan Taylor still has to go and speak to his tutor in NCAD once the interview is over.

Talent and creativity cannot bypass the CAO application, and like so many secondary school pupils, Taylor realised what he was good at as his education progressed. Having not taken Art for the Junior Cert, he caught up in Transition Year: “I really got into it, I loved working with my hands. I did Construction Studies and Woodwork all through school – I just loved being creative. I got into Fifth Year, took up Art for the Leaving Cert, and I decided, ‘I have to do this. This is me.’” Four years of study later and Taylor, like many other students, has found something he really loves and that he wants to do for life.

Alan Taylor’s name is being uttered with increasing reverence, and not only for his design potential. Co-creator of club night ‘C U Next Tuesday’, Taylor is still developing his own identity and personality in what seems to be the nicest way possible. There is plenty of

self-confidence but surprisingly (and almost reassuringly) very little ego.

His internship with Alexander McQueen not only vindicated his skills but also his work ethic. An unpaid day’s work consisted of immediate and “very hands on” duties: “It’s mental.

I’d only made two shirts before in my life and they gave me a block and said ‘here, change the collar, lower the neckline, lower the sleeve, flare the sleeve and then make it up’ as if I’d have it done in two hours.”

There was, however, “the one glamorous part”: escaping the London basement to the runways of Milan Fashion Week, where his combination of speed and intricacy was nicely rewarded. “It was 35 degrees; we were staying in four-star hotels; lunch and dinner in a restaurant every day. Four months working like a slave, and then there’s the one week of bliss.”

McQueen’s creations are not just that of the name attached; Taylor’s involvement meant that his own touch became evident on the designer label. Taylor was consulted in questions of aesthetics – particularly when McQueen turned to him in the lift and asked, “do you like my nail polish?”

While the skill of students in NCAD is never in doubt, the final year Fashion Show not only showcases the work of each student, but also how they will be assessed and graded. Appraisal is not simply a question of whether the designer’s taste sits well with someone else, but the coherency and consistency of their work – how well the students design and sew – is also assessed. Though Taylor’s love of menswear means that he can make clothes just for himself, his true passion is womenswear – his sensible attitude to which emphasises why so many male designers design for women: “It would be me designing for how I think I would like a woman dress, but to interpret what they would want too.”

The formal academic grading process doesn’t bother him either. “Our tutors are amazing... otwo

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We have loads of one-on-one time; we really get to go in-depth about the design and process with your tutors, they guide you along. They won’t grade you, it’s working with the designer and their own style... if you’ve developed your ideas and they’ve evolved, then you get the marks.”

What’s in store for newlygrad Irish designers?

Ireland has “a constant turnout of good designers,” Taylor reckons, and though the fashion houses have historically resonant names like Dior or socially and culturally significant British designers like Westwood and Galliano, Taylor informs me that the main designer of McQueen is an NCAD graduate. In his own case, Taylor’s name is being mentioned more and more around Dublin, and not just since appearing on the conver of magazines.

Taylor believes that much of Dublin’s fashion talent is met out and about, and while face-toface scouting is important, nothing can diminsh the paramount importance of design talent.

Design is about more than just being able to sew and draw: fashion design is undeniably an art form – and the truth remains that if talent is nurtured, it will develop and is not always acquired simply by being taught.

Taylor’s next hurdle is graduating, so like every other student he’ll find himself coming to terms with economic reality, but graduation means that design independence and financial sustinance may become the same things. “I fell into this all by accident and just love it, so if nothing happens in London I’m going to New York for at least a year – try and work for Calvin Klein... the womenswear is sleek and minimalist,” he adds.

Alan Taylor represents a rejuvinated interest in Irish design, and in young Irish talent. For him fashion is not just a job; it’s his way of life.

Two rollies later our interview ends, and Taylor excuses himself to go and consult with a tutor.

He may be talented, but he’s still a student after all.

18 FASHION

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FASHION 19

Role Models ‘Irish Model’ is a filthy expression.

But should it be? Niamh Beirne examines the real Irish modelling industry and finds the Irish models not working on Grafton Street

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ou’ve seen the girls that adorn the Sunday Independent: blonde hair (extensions intact), average physique, ghastly gold bikinis.

Irish models, right? News flash: modelling it may be, but fashion it is not. We shouldn’t dare confuse the two. The words ‘Irish model’ have become synonymous with Grafton Street promo girls – a highly unfortunate state of affairs, when one considers the incredible and genuine editorial and runway models that have originated in Ireland.

Take Erin O’Connor, who has been a shining beacon of truth for all who realise that what she does, with her cropped cut and strikingly dark features, is fashion that embodies unforgiving personal style. Of course, she’s not actually Irish, but her name is, and she did work for RTÉ, which is practically the same thing right? Anyway, Fake Bake-loving glamour girls are far from such. It cannot be left to Erin O’Connor alone to fly the flag for ‘Irish’ models though, and it hasn’t, much as it may not be publicised outside the industry.

What really makes a model? It seems to be a unique combination of well-placed facial features, height (5’8” and above) and personality. There’s more to it, though: there are also the matters of how the model perceives him or herself, and their awareness of themselves;

The words ‘Irish model’ have become synonymous with Grafton Street promo girls

of course, the real allure of a model is only realised when it’s captured through the lens.

There is often a turning point in a young model’s career where everything seem to click into place; that’s when things undeniably get started. Above everything, however, it is the rarity to a model’s quality that aids their potential success.

Consider Rebecca Morgan, proprietor of the Morgan agency, whose models truly reflect the genuine fashion talent this country has to offer. Morgan strives to find genuine promise in an aspiring model before signing, considering a full-time contract to be a big risk for both parties. A pretty face alone, therefore, still leaves much to be desired. The industry is tough as nails, and not everybody makes it.

The modelling shows that have been taking over our TV screens of late have lulled many into a false sense of hope that anybody can obtain a modelling career – in particular the new season of America’s Next Top Model, where entrants must be below 5’7’’. While smaller women might have some chance of success in the States due to the massive commercial market, there is little chance of triumph in these parts for a girl of such stature (unless, of course, they are happy to stay in their bikinis on Grafton Street).

The market may be small, but competition is fierce. The Model Agent, brought about by esteemed agent Fiona Ellis, depicted the industry more realistically. The entrants were not pitted against each other in the same way as their American and British counterparts; instead, castings and individual work were given focus.

Carrie Ann Burton and Amber Jean Rowan are two candidates from the show who have seen great success since their participation.

Carrie Ann (pictured), who is currently working in London, not only graced the cover of Image magazine as winner of the competition, but more recently led the campaign for Peter Ó Briain’s A-Wear collection, in which she was beautifully dark and powerful. Her success is not difficult to comprehend; Burton otwo

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takes ones breath away with her piercing blue eyes, even without make-up and specialised lighting. There is no denying that she is a stylish force to be reckoned with. Amber Jean has seen continued success too; one need only take a look at the current issue of Irish Tatler to witness her distinct look, where she is featured in a captivating beauty editorial.

These girls have found considerable success in Ireland, but can such a career be sustained in a market of Ireland’s size where – when it comes down to it – the nation, being far from sensational, are much more concerned with looking at the clothes then appreciating an aspirational photograph reminiscent of Vogue Italia?

There is no denying that there is most definitely a market in Ireland, which is continually innovating with new talent emerging and leading the way. Take Julie Flynn. A frequent collaborator and often muse of Alan Taylor featured elsewhere on these pages, she has also found herself in a campaign for John Rocha. The fashion industry is perched upon an international stage, however, and it is inevitable that for Irish models to make their name and take their place within the industry, they will need to reach further afield as many of our designers and photographers have done. Rebecca Fleetwood springs to mind: while fronting a Joanne Hynes campaign here in Ireland, she has also worked with international designers such as Alexander McQueen, and has walked on international catwalks including Milan.

Amongst the confusion remains the clarity. Never again should an Irish model be confused with a scantily clad Miss World wannabe. When we consider young talent like Julie Flynn and relish in her pure look that is versatile, innocent, and powerful, it seems crass to call her an ‘Irish model’ when it risks equating her with the Glenda Gilsons of the world.

Let’s not make the same mistake again.

There are models of all varieties in this country, but irresistible fashion and photography are not in their blood. Capture that.

20 FILM & TV

Reviews LEAP YEAR Director: Anand Tucker Cast: Amy Adams, Matthew Goode, Adam Scott In Cinemas: 26th February Did you know that the tradition which states a woman can propose to a man on February 29th is an Irish one? This reviewer did not, but it did clarify why this romantic comedy about one such a proposal was set in Ireland. Shame, really, since it means that this perfectly serviceable rom-com has been ruined for Irish viewers by a series of the most awful Irish clichés and stereotypes ever seen outside of a Lucky Charms ad.

Starring Enchanted’s Amy Adams and British actor Matthew Goode (who has a daycent aul stab at an Irish accent, to be sure), the plot is fairly simple: Adams is tired of waiting for her

high-flying boyfriend to propose, so she takes the opportunity to surprise him at a conference in Dublin on February 29th and pop the question herself. A hilarious series of events sees her stranded in Dingle (which is on the way from America, via Wales. Obviously.) with a hairy Irishman who says he’ll bring her to Dublin.

Predictable romantic comedy ensues.

When she wasn’t chasing cows, doing the Siege of Ennis at a wedding, stepping in cow pats, using an old P&T phonebox (apparently we don’t have mobiles in Ireland), or pretending to be married so she could stay in a B&B with Hairy Irishman, Amy Adams proves to be her usual charming and likeable self. Goode plays a passable surly Irish pub owner, attractively scruffy and vaguely endearing.

Unfortunately, not even his smiling Irish eyes can redeem this insult of a film. The geographical ambiguity of the thing is astounding – the Cliffs of Moher are in Dingle now, by the way. In case

you’re looking for them. And all the Sunday trains have been cancelled, from everywhere.

And it’s now possible to walk from Dingle to Tipperary in a few hours, in 6-inch heels no less.

Oh, and the local supermarket in Tipperary is only down the road... in Dublin. The list goes on – suffice it to say that the only authentically Irish moment in the whole thing is when Adams gets polluted on vodka after making a tit of herself at a wedding and vomits all over Hairy Irishman’s brogaí deas.

Och, but sure it all works out in the end. Yer man proposes to herself, only to have yer wan realise that it was the other fella she wanted altogether. Hairy Irishman proposes with a Claddagh ring on the Cliffs of er, Dingle... and they all live Oirishly every after.

In a nutshell: Diddly eye dye dye, to be sure.

Michelle McCormick

THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG Directors: Ron Clements, Jon Musker Starring: Anika Noni Rose, Bruno Campos, Keith David In Cinemas: 5th February The Disney Wet-Dream Team, Clements and Musker, return with a tale of Southern gentry and bayou politics, set in early 20th century New Orleans. We meet two families: one wealthy, white and morally void; the other black, poor, but rich in warm family values. The Disney panache for stereotyping lives on.

Roughly based on The Frog Prince, this family cinematic outing offers much of what Disney’s classics have offered in the past. A systemic

narrative becomes complicated by a seemingly unusual supernatural occurrence: Tiana, our poor protagonist, is turned to a frog by Prince Naveen in an attempt to cure his own sliminess, and resolution is only found by a journey through the cruel backdrop of the Louisiana bayou where we meet a Cajun firefly called Ray, a timid alligator-cum-jazz trombonist named Louis, and an eccentric Voodoo witch called Mama Odie, whose powers are needed to be cured from the reptilian mutation cursed upon Tiana by Dr Facilier, an evil practitioner of the dark arts.

This animated musical succeeds in forcing a smile, but the narrative could be accused of being too linear – almost too straightforward. otwo

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Again, classic Disney.

It seems that Disney has finally begun to set aside its retrospectively bigoted baggage, though. There is rarely a hint of misogyny, or a whiff of racism. Tiana retains the upper hand throughout, with Prince Naveen remaining the student for almost the entirety of the film. The good-and-evil divide is found between Voodoo practitioners Dr Facilier and Mama Odie, with Facilier filling the devilish shoes and Odie stepping into the angelic. Overall, an innocent familial jaunt soaked in happiness.

In a nutshell: A simple return to Disney’s animated classics; great for some, tedious for others.

Jake O’Brien

PONYO

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Director: Hayao Miyazaki Starring: Noah Cyrus, Frankie Jonas, Matt Damon In cinemas: February 12th It’s the cute event of the decade.

Anyone who saw Miyazaki’s My Neighbour Totoro and has longed for another cute fix, rejoice! Ponyo is here! So fantastically innocent and lovely, no film will ever attempt it again. Well done, Japan, you can all go to sleep – that’s all there is.

Ponyo (Cyrus) is a fish-girl who escapes from her protective father, falls for five-year-old Sosuke (Jonas) and decides to become human. Cue big eyes, cuddles and primary colours that instantly turn the viewer into juvenile mush and stopping you judging it using conventional cinematic criteria.

The narrative style mirrors that of childhood: everything new is displayed with amazement, conflict is ignored outright, and relationships are formed simply by repeating your name horrendous amounts of times (‘Ponyo!’). The problem with having toddlers in leading roles, however, is that they have very little idea of what’s going on around them – which makes it hard to respect any decisions they might make (toddlers, eh?).

Meanwhile, Hayo says he was inspired by The Little Mermaid, but in Japanese the word ‘inspired’ is very similar to the one for ‘took it wholesale’.

Visuals are about as vital to this film as dialogue is in Shakespeare.

FILM/TV SOUNDTRACKS The oft-overlooked and sometimes best part of a film, Grace Duffy picks 10 of the best cinematic suites

Miyazaki’s team has done an incredible job animating, melding the film’s themes of innocence and nostalgia. From the first frame it is evident that they aren’t taking the easy way out, every image is an ocular treat, maintaining a perfect balance between storybook simplicity and quantumly intricate detail. Yes, a great deal of the style could have easily been reproduced with computers but would have lost the warmth and personality that is the heart of Ponyo.

Fans of Miyazaki’s earlier work won’t be disappointed, but its pure, uncut innocence might be jarring at first. Its lack of cynicism makes it feel-good in a way that we are not accustomed to. Overall it is glorious, and if you find it superficial and shallow otwo recommends at least pretending to be moved, for fear of being deemed inhuman and having your house burned down. What a lovely film.

In a nutshell: The most violent movie of 2010 – or, pure innocence.

James McDonnell

1. Star Wars / E.T. / Jaws / Indiana Jones / everything by John Williams I used to hum The Imperial March as I walked into music class in secondary school to face my Cruella DeVille-ian teacher.

True story. John Williams will always be the bomb, the genius, the master – the composing equivalent of Spielberg.

2. Lord of the Rings [Howard Shore] Pure lavish, epic grandeur. An entire symphony built around Tolkien’s breathtaking fantasy, it runs the gamut of emotions from exhilarating to terrifying to heartbreaking. Rarely does a score allow you to relive the film so beautifully. You go, Howard Coco!

3. Gladiator [Hans Zimmer] A dashing, innovative piece of work that sweeps through every battle and heartache with Maximus, culminating in a beautiful swansong that could tug even the coldest of heartstrings.

Divine.

4. The Crow [Graeme Revell / various artists] A rare delicacy in that both the original score and the artists’ soundtrack are equally glorious. Designed for the darker palette, the score is nonetheless touchingly understated, while the artist ensemble includes the Nine Inch Nails’ cover of ‘Dead Souls’.

Enough said.

5. The Virgin Suicides [Air] This film had a ridiculously profound effect on my youthful self, with its searing images of lost innocence and ethereal atmosphere. To suggest that much of this is down to its indelible score is to do the movie disservice, yet the haunting and melancholic music will stay with you long after both film and CD have ended.

6. Now & Then [various] An upper amidst all my favourite downers – ‘cos I’m not always a miserable emo. A spiffing collection of sunny 70s

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singalongs, guaranteed to have you dancing your way through the housework.

7. Requiem for a Dream [Clint Mansell] This could and should rank higher – the exquisitely mournful violins, the vividly captured horror of addiction, the terror, the paranoia, the confusion, the loss, the agony, the apocalyptic atmosphere that so pervades the character’s plight, the fact it was used in that Two Towers trailer… until The X Factor.

8. Edward Scissorhands [Danny Elfman] Danny Elfman has achieved much, but this is his finest hour, a beauteous and poignantly uplifting collection of choral melodies that perfectly capture the spirit of Burton’s sad little fairytale. A treat for the imagination. Also helpful for troubled sleepers.

9. The Dark Knight [Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard] A fitting accompaniment to one of the best films of recent times, this co-production between Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard is climactic, sprawling, and ambitious, serenading each

unforgettable moment of the film with every piece named after a line from the script. Effortlessly awesome.

10. Supernatural [various] OK, so a TV show is kind of cheating, but this is one monstrous mofo of a soundtrack.

It features everything from Blue Oyster Cult to Metallica, AC/DC to Judas Priest. Unassailably cool.

22

FILM & TV

In Defence of LOST It’s been one of the TV highlights of the last decade – so why does Conor Barry always find himself having to defend LOST and not praise it?

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or such a freakishly successful show, it seems bizarre that every time LOST is mentioned in conversation I feel as if I have to defend it. It’s like the child that everyone gave up on; he showed such promise when he was young, but grew up into a weird lanky freak ranting about time travel and magic. And while a lot of people have completely lost (ho ho!) hope, there’s enough to make me think that going into the final season, LOST might actually pull the whole thing off and prove the naysayers and abandoners wrong.

Part of the reason people have such a vendetta against the show is because they were duped into watching a science fiction programme. It started as a serving of “will they, won’t they” sexual tension with a healthy dollop of “hey, what’s in this hatch?” mystique on the side, but by season five it had grown to have everyone travelling through time, becoming ghosts, and fighting a cloud of smoke while Kate and Sawyer shag in a bear cage.

It’s safe to say, so, that throughout its five seasons thus far, LOST has changed quite a bit. It’s as if you were watching Castaway and someone came into the room, snapped the DVD in half and shoved in The X-Files. So people are understandably peeved at being tricked.

But what’s just plain irritating is the crowd who claim that LOST either doesn’t make any sense, or that it will never come up with answers to the insane number of questions it has given. While there is a bunch of questions I’ll doubt they’ll ever properly answer (Remember Walt, the weird psychic boy? They’ll probably just silently ignore that one), the show’s writers, in fairness, have answered a bunch. What’s in the hatch? An lunatic Scottish man who has to push a button every 108 minutes or else the world will explode. Why would it explode?

Magnets or something. Genius.

Even the history of the island is being explained in part – there was the Dharma Initiative in the 70s,

testing on sharks and so on; before that there was some Egyptian malarkey, and everyone praised a giant statue occupied by a ghost man named Jacob.

See? They know what they’re doing.

People who gave up on the show early also missed out on some of the best characters. Anyone remember Nikki and Paolo?

They were the couple crowbarred into the cast before audience uproar forced the writers to kill them off by burying them alive. Then there was the eye-patched former Soviet soldier whose brain was fried, was shot in the chest with a harpoon but still survived just to blow himself up underwater.

And last, but by no means least, Daniel Faraday, the awkward physicist who gave the show some fake science credibility. Time travel is believable if Faraday says so!

Yes, the dialogue is cheesy and the writers have a strange fixation on getting rid of plot problems by blowing them up (the hatch, the submarine, Charlie), but that’s part of the charm. And despite LOST’s blatant stupidity it does actually have an interesting philosophical subtext that you don’t really see in shows like Desperate Housewives and

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House.

House Having said that, if the show wasn’t so stupidly over the top I’d more than likely have given up on it long ago. But perhaps the fact that someone needs to die or explode every five to ten minutes says more about my attention span than the quality of the show.

As for the coming final season, we should give the writers the benefit of the doubt that they know what they’re doing. Season five ended on the nowtraditional ridiculous cliffhanger, which in this case was detonating a hydrogen bomb that may rip a hole in the time-space continuum and reverse everything that has happened so far in the show. Of course, that’s just one of many theories, which are what make LOST so much fun. You can endlessly try to figure out what the hell is happening, and it’s undeniably satisfying being proved either right or wrong. As easy as it is to poke holes in what has happened so far, overall LOST has been a cohesive, entertaining and genuinely clever series.

In short: lay off LOST. It’s a unique programme that, apart from a few minor slip-ups (bet the writers are regretting putting in that second island), has been consistently impressive since its 2004 debut. They have a stupid amount of questions to answer, and I’m looking forward to watching them try. Of course, if the last season turns out to be atrocious, this article is void and I was on the opposite side all along.

And as for the smoke monster… yeah, they better explain that thing properly.

Season six of LOST begins on Sky One this Friday, 5th February, at 9pm.

FILM & TV 23

THE UGLY TRUTH The end is nigh for the not-quite-as-Ugly-any-more Betty. Catriona Laverty bids her farewells Sad news from ABC last week, as the current season of Ugly Betty was confirmed to be the last ever made.

The show, now in its fourth series, burst on to our screens in 2006 in a flurry of bitches, braces, frilly blouses and mismatched tights.

Somewhat unfairly labelled (i.e. ‘ugly’), America Ferrera was lauded as being the antidote to the waif actresses that had been adorning our screens for so many years. Betty was the frumpy, normal, down-to-earth, everyday girl, trying to make it in the real world.

Except... she clearly wasn’t.

Her clothes, although horrendously assembled, were the finest of couture, her job in the fantasy world’s equivalent of Vogue was one that thousands would have killed for, and her predicaments were as farfetched as anything over on Wisteria Lane.

But we loved her. She was the underdog: the girl next door who refused to conform to the accepted norms of Mode and didn’t care how she looked, only how she felt. At least, she was, until season four.

The current series, which started a few weeks ago on RTÉ, has seen

Betty’s waist shrink a few more inches, her hair fall that little more beautifully into place, and her look get (marginally) better put together. Even her signature braces are coming off.

It’s as though the Hollywood peer pressure has finally started to get to Betty, and she’s started to crack.

The producers messed with the format, separating Betty from perennial boss Daniel, and giving less time to the cracking supporting cast, especially the wonderful Becki Newton as Amanda.

The news last week that the show will not return for a fifth run, then, maybe isn’t quite the shock it should have been. While the current series

has had plenty of laugh out loud moments and dramatic cliffhangers, it hasn’t quite matched the frenzy of the Betty/Henry, Wilhelmina/ Bradford, Murderous Claire, Alexisis-Daniel’s-brother, Daniel’s-son-isreally-Alexis’s-son and Dead Man’s Sperm (phew!) storylines of the previous seasons.

We’ve had to make do with the slightly less engaging pairing of

Betty and Matt, and not even the addition of the Karate Kid could make up for losing Ashley Jensen and the diluting of Amanda’s role in proceedings.

And so after four tumultuous years, Betty will leave our screens for good this May, taking her frilly white cotton socks with her. We’ll miss her, but we’ll always have the DVDs.

YELLOW FEVER Casually ignoring the last decade of its increasingly mediocre output, Emer Sugrue dips herself in her finest yellow makeup and offers heartfelt 20th birthday greetings to the evergreen Simpsons The Simpsons are 20 this month, and my, how the years have taken their toll. 20 might be a young age in human years, but for a television program turning 20 means decrepitness, crumbling, and longing to be put out of misery. The Simpsons is currently one of the America’s longestrunning sitcoms – though the ‘com’ element is becoming increasingly tenuous.

Fans have watched in dismay as witty lines become clunky and embarrassing.

The characters have lost all nuance and personality in favour of ‘wackiness’, and where once we had a family, we are now left with five individual squawking yellow hacks.

But I shouldn’t be so critical, this is a celebration! On your birthday, your family and friends don’t start listing your faults, or sob about how much

more attractive you were when you first met. No – they squeeze out some

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jollity and mask their true feelings with cake. So in that spirit, I’ll repress the last ten years and talk about why The Simpsons is completely awesome.

The Simpsons was groundbreaking.

Cartoon culture used to be completely different; animation wasn’t a respected art form, deemed suitable only for kids. The Simpsons was a sitcom first and cartoon second, and had appeal for both children and adults. It always amazes me when I watch old episodes, how many rude or political jokes went straight over my head but that I found hilarious anyway. Cartoons are now aimed at all audiences in a second golden age of animation: cinemas are packed with well-written comedy cartoons like Shrek and Toy Story using the same blend of humour, pop culture and real emotion that The Simpsons created.

Television cartoons have also had a revolution, and here in the ‘oneties’ adult cartoons are commonplace. I don’t mean adult in a sexy way, of

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course (although there are plenty of those too if you check your local internet), but cartoons aimed at grownups – grownups with a very childish sense of humour. We now have American Dad, Family Guy, Robot Chicken, Adult Swim and many more I can’t remember off the top of my head, all indebted to the influence of The Simpsons. Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane once said that The Simpsons “basically re-invented the wheel. They created what is in many ways... a wholly new medium.”

The Simpsons’ legacy is more than mere endlessly quotable lines or the word ‘meh’ – invaluable to the disaffected Facebook generation – but a rich comedic legacy. Though technically The Simpsons is still hanging on, refusing to die like the boss at the end of a video game, for my mental ease I’ll pretend that production stopped ten years ago and conclude that all others must live up to its genius.

24 UNDERGROUND SOUND

Alison Lee gets to know upand-coming Midlands rockers The Aftermath “It’s a dark place, Longford is!” chortles native and guitarist of the Aftermath, Johnny Cronin – but it was where he and brother Mick founded one of the most successful Irish rock outfits of the noughties. “In the middle of the bog there isn’t much to do, so your imagination tears away when you hear The Beatles!”

The Cronins studied in Leeds during their teens (hence their strong Yorkshire accents), but returned to Ireland, joining forces with guitarist Justin McNabb and bassist Martin Gray to form the Aftermath, who are currently based in Mullingar.

Moving to Leeds made the boys realise just how much their native sod means to them. “You miss home – the craic in the pubs, the Barry’s

Tea, the beef! You do find you’re more Irish over there.”

There’s something refreshing about a band who embrace their nationality, though they do believe it essential for bands to break out of Ireland. The Aftermath have gigged in spots like Athens, Berlin, and London, but “to stand out abroad, bands should look to their Irishness,” believes Cronin.

A recent triumph was the inclusion of their debut Friendlier Up Here in Hot Press’ list of the 250 Greatest Irish Albums Of All Time. “We’re delighted that we’re considered Irish! Sometimes we’re called Anglo-Irish but we’re pure boggers who had to emigrate!”

Despite the patriotism, the band don’t encompass trad in their music. In fact, they’re regularly described as ‘Britpop’, while they dub their style “mod pop”. Will they retain this sound in their new album, currently in the works?

Cronin doesn’t give much away, though fans can anticipate a record produced by Noel Hogan of

DON’T LABEL ME The Red Labels are a band that are only on the brink of a burgeoning career, and one that still have a long way to go – at least in regard to conducting themselves during press interviews. otwo spoke to bass player and vocalist Richie, whose offerings here are characterised by undersized answers and references to a press pack that otwo hadn’t received – though perhaps it is refreshing to realise in some cases, it is all about the music.

“I don’t know what to say to you, or what you want to talk about. We’ve got a few things lined up at the moment that might be good – we’re releasing a four-track EP, it’s called From the Seams. It’s the second EP that we’ve done – the last was produced by Guy Mackey who works with Radiohead and the Manic Street Preachers – and this one is going to be released on the fifth of March.”

The band is home grown and Dublin based. “We’re all from Howth and we just got together… went to school with two of the guys, just known each other all of our lives basically. All played music and just decided, ‘feck it, we’ll start a band’. We also played all the big festivals during the sum-

mer – Oxegen, Castlepalooza.”

Another career highlight, though it takes otwo’s prompt to mention it, was even further afield. “We went to Russia for Arthur’s Day – we went out to Moscow, and we’re heading back out again this year for Paddy’s Day. They do drink Guinness. The Guinness out there is absolutely amazing. Moscow’s pretty amazing – it’s kinda divided down the line of old communism-meetsWestern Culture at the moment. And they love music, they don’t get Western music out there, so

FACING THE AFTERMATH

the Cranberries and Gerald McDonald, who previously worked with the likes of U2 and Travis.

How did the Aftermath enlist these bigshots to their ranks? “Just get very drunk and social! Go up to them and give them a CD, hope they like it.

You need a neck on you and you need to believe in yourself!”

Unlike many indie bands today, the Aftermath still think a record deal and an agent are the way to get noticed. On an indie label “you can only go so far, get the 2FM playlist for two weeks, but I don’t think that’s enough to crack it as an artist.”

Ironically, the band made th top ten the same week they had a near-fatal bus crash in 2007 – “It’s cynical but people are more interested in stories like that.”

Already booked to play Electric Picnic and Sweden’s Peace and Love Festival this summer, it seems The Aftermath are well on their way to establishing themselves as yet another Irish musical success story.

Sally Hayden speaks to Dublin fourpiece the Red Labels. Or, at least, tries to… they go absolutely mad for it.”

Richie’s college course in Ballyfermot, a twoyear degree entitled ‘Rockschool’, also raises some enthusiasm. “Out there for two years learning your trade, and it covers everything from production to touring and stuff like that, so when it actually came to going out on the road we knew everything we had to know.”

The Red Labels are exceptionally talented musically, and describe their sound as “indie rock, kind of punky… you know, sort of manic stuff.” otwo asks what the Red Label dream is. “We’re hoping to be able to get more exposure and just make a living out of this basically… yeah, get as far as possible with it. Being famous, I wouldn’t mind – like, who doesn’t want to be famous? But it’s just more about trying to create art and music.

We all had nine-to-five jobs up until last March, and then we just decided to pack it all in and do this full-time, so it’s going great – it’s working out well.”

The Red Labels’ EP, From the Seams, is released on 5th March. http://www.myspace.com/theredlabelsire

otwo

02.02.10

UNDERGROUND SOUND 25

RUDDY GOOD TIMES Australian folkster Xavier Rudd talks Aboriginals and race with superfan Alex Court Xavier Rudd has long been a hero of mine – his chilled-out tunes and efforts to raise the profile of Australia’s Aboriginals are both uniquely inspiring. So when I was given the chance to interview him, I jumped at it just as a surfer takes a ten-foot offshore rip curl.

I had planned for an interview and prepared some questions to ask, but hadn’t anticipated the chilled chat I got. No amount of planning could have readied me for the genuine kindness and generosity of spirit I received.

I asked early on how many instruments he could play. His response was almost shy: “Oh, I dunno… I use about 15 different things,” almost as if he didn’t want anyone to know. When I queried him on this stat, Rudd explained his use of different styles of guitar, including the “west Indian slide guitars”. For fear of having my non-expert knowledge of sub-continental guitars exposed, I didn’t query further.

While Xavier laughed and took his time to ponder his responses, I grew impatient and pushed on with my list of questions, asking how he come to create the album of his that I most enjoy, Solace. His reply: “Thanks, man. It was a beautiful time in my life when I made it. I had a

“I had a little boy and it was a lot of sunshine and it was just a really good

time…”

little boy and it was a lot of sunshine and it was just a really good time… I think it translated into the album.”

Keen to learn his perception of Ireland, I ask how Irish crowds compare to Australian ones.

“Most Australians are Irish convicts anyway,” Rudd laughs, “so we’ve a very similar vibe.

Rowdy, drunk. You know. Nah, just joking – it’s fun. It’s really fun.” With this I abandoned my planned questions and go with the flow. At first this choice was scary, but Rudd made me feel at ease and as comfortable as a king, as I let Rudd discuss pretty much anything he wants.

He speaks about the idea of music as energy, calling it “part of my flesh and bones, until it’s recorded and then it’s something else. It’s like my whole heart and soul – whatever is going on with me at that time, whatever is coming through me… it just comes out.”

Rudd also strives to point out that “spirit exists among all of us: music has existed in every culture and joined culture and people and race together since the beginning of human existence in every part of the world... music exists in everybody and rhythm exists in everybody.”

Oddly, Rudd asks me a few questions of his own. Where was I from? I tell him I’d lived in Oz for six years; Rudd asks why I left. During my answer, however, he spontaneously informs me: “I’m hanging out with a couple of mates here.

Morgan and Nadia. Morgs does the artwork for my albums. Nadia, his wife, is pole dancing.

Haha. Beautiful woman. It’s entertaining.”

He then blasts some music down the phone.

“Did you hear that? That was for you my brother.” I laughed raucously, feeling like I was there with them as a mate, on the other side of the world on a Friday night, relaxing with good otwo

02.02.10

friends.

We discuss Aboriginal culture, and I ask whether it was hard for a white man to break in with indigenous lads. “Did you just call me a white fella?,” he asks. I reply in the affirmative.

“Are you serious? Why do you think I’m a white fella?” I become nervous. Had all the photos I’d seen of him been lies? Had he undergone skindarkening treatment? All I could say was that I assumed he was a ‘white fella’ because he has white skin. Doesn’t that make you a white fella?

“Dunno,” he replies jovially. “I’m a black fella, I reckon. I look white, but I go up [to Aboriginal communities] and up that way, skin colour and race never really was a factor.”

I asked him about his song ‘Little Chief ’, which ranks within my favoured three of his output, which now spans eight albums and a ninth on the way. I took the plunge. “Would you please play it when you come to Dublin on 8th February?”

A short silence ensued and I felt 14 years old, reduced to begging for a favour from a demiGod who owes me nothing.

“It’s a good idea. Let me see.” I smile. “Now that you mention it, that’s about my son, and I’d love to play it on this tour because I’m thinking a lot about him at the moment.”

We chatted for a bit longer, but the time comes when I must hang up. “I’ll have a great time in Dublin. Come up and say hi, yeah?” It seems to me like that’s another opportunity. I wish I had a wetsuit to chuck on, and surf ‘til water meets sandy shore.

Xavier Rudd plays The Academy this Friday, February 6th. http://www.myspace.com/xavierrudd

26

WEB

A

with GAVAN REILLY

s we saunter into the second new decade that will inevitably lead to more moments where the world decides that the internet is both Better Than TV and Slightly Better At Allowing Wholescale Piracy Than TV (and we all remember how radio killed music in the 1980s, don’t we???), it seems appropriate to devote the first WebWatch of the year to showcasing the sheer breadth of content online at the moment.

The internet is going to see some gigantic changes in the coming years – it’ll finally become considered the mainstream source of breaking news, overtaking TV channels; it’ll likely end up being subject to a degree of formal ownership or regulation

in one way or another; and the Chinese tactic of subjectively blocking individual content that a country might find objectionable (or “dangerous”) will, sadly, become more widespread as panicked governments pass prohibitive knee-jerk laws in reaction to the inevitable cyberterrorism that will pervade the era. So – while nobody knows for how much longer the internet will be so free and easy, let’s enjoy what’s there for the time being.

And what a variety there is.

It’s a rare surfer who hasn’t, amid a fit of frustration or bloodlust, done a quick Google for inspiration on a decent prank. Admittedly, The Bat Prank (http://short.ie/uo81) isn’t a particularly vengeful stunt to pull on someone, but if you have a spare Halloween costume around and can cope with the rush of blood to the

head, you might be onto a winner. Of course, if you’re a more hardcore prankster, then CollegeHumor’s now legendary Prank War series (http://short. ie/uo81a) will be far more up your alley.

Now for something completely different: meet Charlie Wilks. He’s 14 years old, and an aspiring high school American Footballer.

His grandfather played in the very first Super Bowl, so sporting pedigree runs in the family. He’s popular amongst his team mates, and he has the slightly overweight body of a pedigree jock. There’s just one hassle: Charlie had a brain tumour when he was five, and it flattened his optic nerves, so he’s now totally blind. A remarkable documentary that perfectly showcases the internet’s ability to change your perception of the world,

through manageable tenminute chunks. Have a look at http://short.ie/uo82 and prepare to clear a lump from your throat.

Which – bafflingly quickly – leaves just enough time for a sobering look at, in the scale of the universe, just how small you really are (http://short. ie/uo84), a collection of Lady Gaga’s most baffling outfits to date (http://short.ie/uo85), a remarkable speech that really will convince you about the urgency of climate change (http://short.ie/uo86), and the most futile video game you’ll ever waste three minutes by playing (http://short.ie/uo87).

Hey, we TOLD you it was going to be a mixed bag.

As ever, if you find any decent links, share them with webwatch@ universityobserver.ie.

In-dub-itably Fantastic Steve Chandra of Asian Dub Foundation talks politics, new songs and feeling suicidal whilst listening to Joy Division on a desert island, with Paul Fennessy In terms of interviews, musicians fall into two categories: those who are on their ten-thousandth interview of the day, praying to God for a nuclear holocaust to bring an end to the ceaseless questioning, and those who spend most of their lives locked in a bedroom, crafting tune after tune about why Mummy and Daddy now sleep in separate houses.

But sometimes a musician comes along to make the interviewer cast aside all journalistic integrity, and acquire a sudden compulsion to marry their subject. Steve Chandra, guitarist with Asian Dub Foundation, is one of them. Thankfully for otwo, the feeling is mutual: “Thank you,” he says at the end. “Great interview, by the way. I really enjoyed that one.

Make sure you come and find me at the gig [Tripod, 19th Feb], yeah?”

Chandra as an articulate, engaging and frank speaker, content to discuss a broad range of topics from the ignominious downfall of Lady

Sovereign (“I had high hopes for her... Now she’s on Celebrity Big Brother making an arse of herself ”) to his reservations regarding the burgeoning phenomenon of Britain’s music schools (“Music should surprise you – it should have a maverick element and I think that has gone from British music. It’s all very systematised”).

But first there’s the business of Chandra’s own career and the nearcompletion of ADF’s seventh studio album. Chandra tells otwo that the project represents a significant departure in terms of lyrical focus.

“It’s a little bit different,” he says. “If people say, ‘What do you think of the war in Afghanistan?’, I’ll say, ‘listen to ‘Blowback’ on Enemy of the Enemy’.

We’ve been around [for] fifteen, sixteen years and we’ve started to explore what has actually changed.

“We have been through a second industrial revolution. I think that has enormous implications about how otwo

human beings relate to one another... we’re mutating; we’re different human beings because of this stuff.”

Hardcore fans need not worry though, as Chandra assures otwo that musically, the album is still “very recognisably ADF”, with the outfit’s penchant for amalgamating diverse sounds firmly intact. Their eclecticism is highlighted by the 02.02.10

fact that they consider artists as different as Joy Division and Afrika Bambaattaa as being equally important influences.

On this, otwo finishes with the obligatory Desert Island Disc question and suggests Joy Division’s Closer as a potential candidate. “No, not Joy Division – I’d fucking throw myself in the sea!“

MUSIC 27

JUSTIN BIEBER

FYFE DANGERFIELD

ONE REPUBLIC

Album: My World Rating: E+

Album: Fly Yellow Moon Rating: B

Album: Waking Up Rating: C

Guillemots singer Fyfe Dangerfield flies solo with ten tracks of pleasingly stripped-down minimalism. Not as wild as his band’s material, the solo is nonetheless impressive.

‘When You Walk In The Room’ is a boisterous, guitar-driven number, while ‘Livewire’ is a tear-jerking, wistful acoustic lullaby. ‘Any Direction’ veers into mellow electro-pop while ‘She Needs Me’ possesses eighties goofiness.

But this album doesn’t gel as well as it should - a stew of genres makes little sense and some songs lack true identity. If he decided on a direction and stuck to it, we could all be in for a serious musical treat.

In a nutshell: Not bad for a man named after a banana.

Alison Lee

The Fray syndrome seems to be catching – One Republic have fallen victim to said repetitious “quality” in sophomore effort Waking Up. Despite the brooding appearance of these five men, the album purports to something far more sinister.

Tedder is an [ahem] accomplished songwriter and producer, responsible/culpable for Leona Lewis’ ‘Bleeding Love’, but his composing style doesn’t suit a band of grown men. ‘Made for You’ screams of adolescent melodrama

Justin Bieber has great hair - the same cannot be said of his music. My World, is a swirl of over-production.

Opening track ‘One Time’ stands out while ‘Down To Earth’ is a ponderous ballad with the substance of a happy meal.

Hopes were high for ‘One Less Lonely Girl’, portrayed by my own 15-year-old sister as the century’s defining tune. More pleasant than annoying, JB’s pitch is toned down, and no glasses are in danger of breaking. If only it could have ended there. Usher has a 7-syllable input into ‘First Dance’, whence the song blooms with all the beauty of a slug. ‘Love Me’ tries to give an R&B soul to the Cardigans classic, and fails.

In a nutshell: Is this really music?

Michael Phoenix

while ‘Everybody Loves Me’ offers all the joys of a theatrical constipation. Tedder consistently abuses his falsetto, conjuring some kind of post-emotional breakdown Chris Martin after breaking a nail.

That said, it is quite catchy overall – ‘All the Right Moves’ has the potential to be this album’s ‘Apologise’. However, their attempt to sidetrack from their 2007 cementing as a mainstream pop band has resulted in an album that wails miserably for the guiding hand of Timbaland. A horrible mix of Back to Bedlam luridity mixed with nauseating predictability.

In a nutshell: Something to threaten small children with.

Rita Jacob

Reviews

TEEKAY DA NEWBORN AND ASHMAN Album: Get It Pumping Rating: C Hoping that this would be the type of insecurely attempted rap that Ireland seems to churn out, I was

greatly disappointed to find this EP more like the illegitimate love child of Usher and Sean Paul.

These three tracks fall short of awful, but a long way from original.

The Irish half of this NigerianIrish duo represents the nation of poets and scholars with lines such

as “Girl I can hurt your body, beat your booty until morning”. The accents are forced American and in dismissing an Irish twang, the group have stripped themselves of a potential angle in an overcrowded market.

Some clever rhymes and catchy

tunes falling on the right side of mediocre if that’s what you’re into – though these lads have to realise they’re not coming straight out of Compton, they took a roundabout route from Limerick via Kildare.

In A Nutshell: Frankenstein.

Kris Goodbody

Album of the Fortnight ESMEE DENTERS Album: Outta Here Rating: B+ This album has Justin Timberlake written all over it (though he is only supposed to be the executive producer) as the famed Trousersnake takes his first steps as a mogul, unleashing a typically pretty blonde identikit onto the world.

Each of the fourteen tracks features Timberlake’s musical beats or his voice (or even both), and if it wasn’t for him, Esmée would have been doomed to rot on YouTube where she first built up a cult following covering the work of Natasha Bedingfield

and... yeah, you’ve guessed it. Timberlake.

Nonetheless, Denters does show some talent. The Dutch-born has a powerful voice, and in some of the songs her voice resembles that of Christina Aguilera.

Showing a genuine ability to command a tune and with the Midasian touch of everyone’s favourite human beatbox behind her, this first album suggests that Denters may be in for a successful career.

In a Nutshell: Nice tunes.

Selva Unal otwo 02.02.10

28

ENCORE

Aries (March 21 – April 20) You will fall down a medium-sized flight of stairs on

Virgo (August 24 – September 23) Meow meow meow.

I’m a talking cat. Big fucking deal.

Taurus (April 21 – May 21) A wonderful surprise awaits you this week. It’s in

Libra (September 24 – October 23) It would be prudent for you to start practising writing with your left hand. No urgency though – you still have a couple of weeks left.

Thursday.

I’ll whip out my balls for your enjoyment. my crystal balls, that is. Sorry…

your left ear.

Gemini (May 22 – June 21) If it rhymes, it’s true.

05.02.10 – Olympia Theatre – €44.20

After winning the first season of American Idol in 2002, Kelly Clarkson has become a huge success as a singersongwriter (and the occasional actress). She has released four albums so far: Thankful (2003), Breakaway (2004), My December (2007), All I Ever Wanted (2009). Her first

(Jan 21 – Feb 19)

It is probable that you will receive a gift of some sort in the next few weeks, possibly enclosed in a sort of brightly coloured paper.

I know this sounds pretty crazy, but, hey, it could happen.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20) “Aagh! A talking cat!” This is definitely what you thought when you first started reading my predicitons.

Sagittarius (November 23 – December 22) Here’s a prediction for you: if I was running a charity fundraiser for Haiti, you know what I’d have? Not a slave auction, anyway. Way to go, PMCSA.

Leo (July 24 – August 23) You will start going grey this fortnight. Mittens recommends you leave the hat on.

Gig of the Fortnight: Kelly Clarkson

Aquarius

Scorpio (October 24 – November 22) My, what pretty little fingers you have. It’s a pity that you only use them to pick you nose.

Cancer (June 22 – July 23) So, the Science Block is undergoing large-scale renovations? Might want to take a leaf out of its book, missus.

[

Capricorn (December 23 – January 23) For you, the quickest route to true satisfaction is buying an iPad. Sadly for you, they’re months away.

]

album, Thankful, was certified as a double platinum in 2003, while in 2004 she won Grammy Awards for Best Female Vocal Performance and for Best Pop Vocal Album for Breakaway. She later earned a Grammy Award nomination for Best Pop Vocal Album for All I Ever Wanted.

Clarkson has also turned her hand to acting, appearing in Sabrina the Teenage Witch (2002), From Justin to Kelly (2003), King of the Hill (2004), and Damage Control (2005).

Not to be missed.

Selva Unal

TUESDAY

WEDNESDAY

THURSDAY

FRIDAY

2 February

3 February

4 February

5 February

6 February

7 February

Michael Collins: Path To Freedom Night - Airfield Arts Centre - 7pm - free

Cobra Starship - The Academy €16.50

Kelly Clarkson Olympia Theatre - €44.20

Fox Revenue Academy 2 - €10

The Ex + Brass Unbound Button Factory - 8pm - €17.50

Leviathan Political Cabaret - Button Factory - 8pm €17.50

The Shoos Academy 2 - €12

nd

Battle of the Axe Tuesdays - Comedy Club – Ha’penny Bridge Inn - 9.30pm - €9 The Duke of Ormond and Kilkenny Portraits National Gallery - free 9th February

Ian Matthews - Whelan’s (Upstairs) - 8pm - €20 Sarah Chang violin; Andrew von Oeyen piano - National Concert Hall 8pm - €30-€50

rd

Tommy Fleming in Concert National Concert Hall - 8pm - €35 10th February

Jamie T - The Academy - €18.95 Diana Jones - Whelan’s (Upstairs) - 12pm - €20

th

11th February

David Bazan Whelan’s - 8pm - €16 Jack Wise plus guests - The Laughter Lounge 7pm - €26

th

12th February

The Aftermath Academy 2 - €12 The Doors Alive - The Academy €16.50 Eddi Reader - Button Factory 7.30pm - €22.50 otwo

02.02.10

SATURDAY th

SUNDAY th

MONDAY 8 February th

Cluster - The Village - 7.30pm - €20

Six Nations: Scotland v France – Murrayfield, Edinburgh – RTE Two, 3pm

Xavier Rudd - The Academy - €30 Haunted - The Gaiety Theatre - 7.30pm - €25€47.50 9th February Ian Matthews - Whelan’s (Upstairs) - 8pm - €20

13th February

14th February

15th February

D.I.M. (Boys Noize Records) - Button Factory 11pm - €10

Kevin Doyle Olympia Theatre -€25

Dickie Rock Olympia Theatre - €25

Rocky Horror Picture Show Anti-Valentines Delight - The Sugar Club - 8pm €17.50

Haiti Benefit: Andy Irvine, The Spook of the Thirteenth Lock & more - Whelan’s - 8pm - €15

Mika - Olympia Theatre - €39.20 Judy Collins - National Concert Hall 8pm - €35 (€32 if booked in advance)