Simon Armitage Interview

Prior to his appearance at this year's Long Division Festival, Simon Armitage answered a couple of questions about his life in a band, The Scaremongers, and how being a lyricist / singer differs from that of a poet.

- When you perform readings or play gigs, how do you pick your setlist? Do you empathise with bands like The Fall, who have such a vast history to pick from, and such a relatively short space of time to perform?

We have a repertoire of about 15 songs, so not an extensive choice!  I think in Wakefield we'll essentially be playing the album Born in a Barn from start to finish - like a band that's come together again after many years to re-live their moment in the sun, or perhaps the drizzle in our case.  We have been known to throw in the occasional cover version - Magazine's The Light Pours Out of Me we played at one gig.  Someone came up to me afterwards and pointed out it wasn't as good as the original.  Well, no (der). 

- When an idea comes to you, be it an image, concept, piece of wordplay, do you instantly know which medium it will work best in (by which I mean poetry / prose / lyric) or is it more an organic process?

The songs were purpose built. Craig Smith had already penned a version of the lyrics, most of which were changed completely, but the odd phrase or chorus got through.  So they were, in the end, collaborative, rather than pieces I would have written left to my own devices.  Yes, I think I DO know from the outset what a piece of writing is destined to become - it's part of its conception - and it's rare that something makes a transformation into another form, say from song lyric to poem or the other way round.  I had considered publishing the lyrics at one point - I'm pleased with them - though not as poems.  Though they are, on the whole, too wordy.  I know this because I struggle to remember them (especially after a few drinks, which I need before we go on stage).

- Are you more drawn to a descriptive, long form lyricist like Jarvis Cocker, or the more concise, killer one-liner style of someone like Morrissey?

I think Cocker and Morrissey are very similar, though Morrissey got there first.  I like detail, especially of the kitchen sink variety, so plenty of noun objects and brand names.  And I like lyrics that tell a story, no matter how obliquely, or set a scene, or write a sketch.  I think that's very much part of the British tradition, both in lyric-writing and poetry.  I was hoping that we might be able to project the lyrics onto a big screen at Wakefield, you know, with a bouncing ball going from word to word, to divert the eye from our general ugliness on stage at the very least.  But of course we've done nothing about it.  It took twenty five years to produce our first album, so we're not exactly known for our haste.

- The music industry appears to be imploding, with very little money left in it for anyone but the largest artists. I have a vague feeling that in a couple of generations, music production will fall in line with other art strands and be largely funded by subsidy / grants / community projects. Do you have any thoughts on this, and do you think Rock & Roll as we knew it is dead?

I think it's facing huge challenges and chance, but maybe that's a good thing because the whole scene had become fat, bloated and a total cliche.  It's virtually impossible for anyone to make any kind of rock and roll gesture these days without looking like a parody, so unless there's an element of self-deprecation or irony, you're just going through the motions.  Live music has become more important, as has diversification - sounds and attitudes that are less easily anticipated.  Is Rock n Roll dead?  Certain form of it, possibly.  The dinosaurs become extinct, and they had big teeth and massive bones, so it's entirely possible that rock n roll can take its place in the fossil record.  But there will always be popular music (as long as there are people!!!).  

Simon is playing Wakefield Theatre Royal as part of Long Division on June 9th. He will perform poetry readings, followed by a full band performance. Detail here. 

Doctor Who: Series Seven and Beyond

Six into Seven

The Name Of The Doctor was the first time Series Seven of Doctor Who has really worked for me, and got me as excited and involved as I was for Series Six (and all the proceeding runs of New Who).

I loved Series Six. The Impossible Astronaut / The Day Of The Moon double bill that opened it was surely one of the maddest, most unlikely infiltrations of Saturday night lite-entertainment by hardcore Sci-fi ever. The scope and ambition of the ideas was off the scale, and the rest of the series shared similar complex riddling with impressive standalone episodes.

This seemed to be the kind of series Moffat excelled at creating. In the RTD era, his contributions rightly stood out, largely because they were built around simple but mind-bending ideas. His core belief was that one episode of Doctor Who should have a concept others would stretch out into a film, or even a franchise - and on this he delivered, though we must now bare in mind that his most beloved creations; The Weeping Angels and River Song have now had more screen time than they would have had in a feature film.

So the idea for Series Seven, that each episode is presented as its own genre piece, a blockbuster film every weekend, always seemed odd to me. It's of massive credit to the BBC that each episode has appeared to have the budget, direction and production of a professionally created feature film. But has the writing matched it? And were the smart but simple ideas that defined Moffat's first two series noticeable by their absence?

Series 6 ended on an interesting note; The Doctor, faced with the realisation that he is feared across the universe concludes it's perhaps time to take more of a backseat. His apparent death at Lake Silencio is the perfect opportunity to step into the shadows. This was followed up by the pleasingly low key The Doctor, The Widow and The Wardrobe Christmas episode, where he off-handedly referred to himself as The Caretaker.

This has now been largely forgotten, and as a concept does not fit well with a desire for weekly blockbusters. Some settings have suited this idea; nuclear submarines, American ghost towns, haunted houses, whilst other acts, such as teaming up with UNIT or riding up the side of the London Shard on a anti gravity motorbike are less conspicuous.

Living in the shadows didn't initially compute in his first adventure of the series, when he met his oldest enemies, the Daleks. But this episode did introduce Clara, and saw The Doctor's existence wiped from their memory banks. But this wasn't mentioned again until Nightmare in Silver (over 12 months later) when the Cybermen claimed they could reconstruct his life through the gaps he had left behind. Otherwise, instead of leading to more personal episodes, like The Lodger, it has been of little note.

Series Seven

So what was series seven about? Well, the first half was pre-occupied with the departure of Amy & Rory and for this reason alone fells like its own mini-series. The Doctor's sadness (which he referred to as The Dark Times in the last episode) does lead us into the second half of the series and towards that astounding conclusion, but does leave us with an inconsistent set of episodes.

Clara's appearance, or The Doctor’s interest in her never quite worked. Isn't it a bit of a stretch that The Doctor keeps chancing upon these companions who are 'impossible', and are also young, beautiful women? The doctor's connection between Clara in Victorian London and The Asylum Of The Daleks is based purely on a coincidental mention of the word Souffle. I think some tighter writing could have explained the doctors interest in her (the opening to The Name Of The Doctor doing this well, but a little too late) as more of a replacement for what he'd lost; something achieved with slow burning but devastating effect with Martha, when she realised he was taking her to the same places he'd travelled with Rose.

The 'Who Is Clara?' mystery simply hasn't been engaging. I've not had reason to care. It's just a mild curiosity. It is too similar a premise to our previous ponderings about who Amy was - why she had no parents, why she had a crack in her wall, and later why she had visions of Madame Kovarian wherever she went. Even The Doctor's less than random visits (for example to the psychic Emma Grayling) to people who might offer insight into Clara's really identity echo the doctor's nonchalance in visiting the beginnings of The Flesh to find out why he had a fake version of Amy travelling with him.

As well as supposedly dealing with that question, the series has also been preoccupied with rebooting older characters. The supposedly lightweight RTD dedicated a series to giving this treatment to The Daleks, Cybermen, The Master and Davros (albeit largely focussing on a series finale). Series Seven had a quick work through The Great Intelligence, The Ice Warriors and The Cybermen (again) and although the first of these was built around a larger idea, the others were based on gimmicks, however enjoyable they were.

Interestingly, the latter two could indeed be seen as metaphors, or signifiers of what is to come, in the wake of the final episode. The Ice Warrior split in two; the hulking armour shell opening to reveal another character inside, one just as deadly. The Doctor's battle with the Cyber Controller was presented in interesting style, with the doctor facing off against himself inside his own head.

In Journey To The Centre Of the TARDIS Clara and the rest of the crew face dark future versions of themselves. And on the rooftop towards the end of The Bells Of St John a fake, evil version of The Doctor appears, under the control of The Great Intelligence.

The Doctor having a 'dark side' is of course nothing new. It is generally laid on by referencing The Time War and him committing genocide upon his own people, as well as the Daleks. A different spin on this was seen through Tennant's Time Lord Victorious in The Waters Of Mars which I was always disappointed was not developed further. Perhaps now it is?

The first suggestion of this dark side having a physical presence was perhaps courtesy of The Dream Lord. That telling glance at his own reflection in the TARDIS console seemed to suggest it all meant more to the doctor than a trip induced by psychic pollen.

And do you remember The God Complex, when The Doctor entered his room containing his greatest fear? We, at that time, were led to presume it was likely himself. But can we now assume it was John Hurt sat in there?

One of the pleasures of Moffat as lead writer is that he is quite the prankster, and loves toying with the fans. The appearance of all the previous doctors in The Name Of The Doctor is an amusing response to presumptions of what (and who) will feature in the 50th anniversary episode. His early introduction to Clara was another. You always get the feeling he is having fun; detractors would say he is often having more fun than the audience.

The audacious captioning on that final shot was another example of this. Build to a climax over a series (or three series?) then stick a fourth wall breaking title on the screen: "Introducing John Hurt as The Doctor" indeed!

50th Anniversary

So what does this tell us about the 50th anniversary show? It's possible that John Hurt is a version of The Doctor before he named himself as such, a pre Hartnell version, possibly 'The Other' referred to in the EU? This seems unlikely, purely because the captioning referred to him as The Doctor.

He could also be The Valeyard (namechecked by The Great Intelligence in that very episode) but it doesn't feel right that Moffat would build his tenure towards a reappearance from a character from an interesting but poorly realised serial from the '80s, no matter how conceptually interesting it may be.

Hurt’s line, that he “acted in the name of peace and sanity" suggests this is a Time War Doctor, and the constant references to dark-sides and split personalities (literally for impossible girl Clara) sets up the basis for an ultimate confrontation worthy of a 50th special - the doctor against himself.

The Time War is also a convenient setting, as it includes the crowd pleasing Daleks. But I don't think that'll be where the 50th special is set. At least, I hope not. They've done a great job of creating a vivid picture through the slightest of references - great conversations between with The Master and Davros. Again, I don't think Moffat will want to tell that story. But I am sure it will appear in flashback, or perhaps with some unlikely crossing of the time lines.

And the constant references to The Doctor's name. In short we will never know his 'name'. But what if the name in question is not his, but John Hurt's version? All we know of the purpose of the name is that it is the doctor's greatest secret, and that it appears in the history of The Time War book, so it does make sense. Also, if River returns for the 50th anniversary and witnesses the fall out from all this, it would explain how she would know that name, and was able to shock Tennant with it way back in Series 4.

My final ponderance is how The Doctor managed to escape The Time War, whilst simultaneously ending it, and trapping it in a time lock. I think the split personality made real is the potential solution here. We know from his story of the Temporal Schism that when faced with something huge he will always run (reiterated in Clara's semi-catchphrase). I sense that the John Hurt doctor was somehow the one who took the bullet, whilst our doctor ran away. Our doctor managed to keep his sanity, and sense of right and wrong, but has been racked with guilt ever since, where John Hurt, if he somehow survived, has done so either with a massive chip on his shoulder, or a twisted, dangerously pragmatic version of morality.

I expect the best way to explain how this is possible would be somehow connected to the regeneration of Doctor 8 into Doctor 9. Although we don't need a precedent for it, Tennant’s shuffle of his regeneration in The Stolen Earth into his previously severed hand is an example of a regeneration creating two Doctors. From behind, the John Hurt doctor certainly resembled Christopher Eccleston. It would also account why Hurt's face hasn't appeared the few times the Doctor in all his version have been shown - the pre Time War doctor's life split two ways and our doctor is a different person, albeit with a shared history before that point. Or maybe it was a Time Lord scheme to create an army, creating multiple versions of themselves in some bonkers response to the Dalek threat. We know they will go to any possible lengths, including resurrecting The Master and destroying all existence in order to evolve into a higher state on consciousness.

Of course, The Doctor and Clara's encounter with John Hurt didn't happen in their 'current' time, it was within the 'scar tissue' of the Doctors entire existence, i.e. they were re-living a past event / timestream, though that doesn't explain why all the other versions just ran past, whilst he addressed Hurt directly. But I don't think John Hurt isn't suddenly walking around the Doctor's universe, causing bother. It'll be something else that will bring them together.

But suddenly The Doctor is back at the centre of everything. In series seven, especially the second half, he has almost felt like a supporting character in his own show, surrounded by under written secondary characters, flash bang effects and sets and overbearing orchestral music. Matt Smith has held it together though, and has been a rock, dragging the series through some middling moments. It says a lot when the most moving moment is simply him sat on a sofa, naturally lit, trying to hold back the tears. Moments like that strip away all the madness, the frustration and tedium, and make you realise you love the doctor, and do still care.

The multitude of ideas that characterised Series 5 and 6 have been absent, replaced by big set pieces and playful call backs to the original run. That ending has somehow rescued it from the brink of being a piece of reliable and predictable television, and back towards essential viewing.

Dean Freeman

By By, Farewell

Last week I heard the very sad news that Wakefield musician Liam Pease-Smith had died. And I was surprised how much it upset me, really, as I can’t say we were especially close and our paths only ever crossed in conjunction with our roles in the Wakefield music scene. We were, at best, somewhere between minor characters and cameos in each others lives, yet the fact he is no longer around has affected me profoundly. Cameo seems an apt word - even if was only for a few seconds, you'd certainly remember a meeting with Liam.

In fact, I clearly remember the first time I met him. My band had just played a set at Inns Of Court (and due to my detailed record keeping I could probably figure out the exact date, if i so wished). At that time I was 'running' a very small record label called Geek Pie Records, and putting on a few gigs. It was mine and my friends first bash at DIY and was all handmade sleeves and poorly recorded songs in bedrooms that were barely mixed, let alone mastered.

This wild-eyed character approached me as I packed up my gear. He was mad with enthusiasm and excitement and handed me a series of crumpled pieces of A4 stapled together. He was insistent that Geek Pie Records release the upcoming EP / Album by his band, called By By, and as if to prove how serious he was had produced a petition - the stapled papers - signed by as many people as he could find. Astoundingly, it included the signature of comedian Richard Herring, who in the ‘why should Geek Pie sign By By box’ had written something along the lines of “To keep him off the streets and out of my way!”

If By By had 'made it' and / or Geek Pie had been a real label, that's the kind of story that creates a legend. Instead, I had just been introduced to one of the most eccentric people I've ever come across. Geek Pie never released the record (Martin Watches The Skies)  though it wasn't for want of trying; pre my tenure at Rhubarb Bomb, we advertised it's upcoming release in issue 11.

By the time Liam's track Dirty Day Sludge was released on the Geek Pie Compilation Future Relics, many in Wakefield had become accustomed to the By By live show. Well, accustomed suggests some kind of acceptance and understanding of what was going on. You endured a By By live show, but I don't especially mean that in a negative way. It was his style of performance

Largely they featured Liam, alone, sat cross legged in the floor with his keyboard across his lap, or sometimes an oddly tuned guitar. Liam wailed more than sung. The keyboard was cheap. The playing was inconsistent. The music was simplistic.

But it had something. It had an honesty, without a doubt. Each song was a journey through some part of Liam's psyche, and they gave the impression that his mind was a confusing, troubled, but playful place. I once commented that one of his songs sounded like a rather disturbing acid trip and he was instantly thrilled I'd picked up on that, then just as quickly despondent that his music sounded that way. I think he just wanted to make pop music.

But the great thing about By By was the mischievous side to the performances. Liam revelled in being the noisy, discordant 'talentless' guy on the bill, and at open mic nights. He was the antithesis to dullness, in every way.

Oddly, in the 24 or so hours between his death and me hearing about it, I saw a band that perfectly illustrated what he stood against. They were called Pugwash. Middle aged old hacks, they must've been going 20 odd years. They sounded exactly like the covers bands at The Hop, except they were playing their own songs. Old men, going through the motions, to the point where event the banter is planned out. Safe, clean, toe-tapping nothings. They are everything I dislike about music.

The idea of By By being inflicted upon fans of bands like that was very exciting to me, and I think Liam revelled in that idea too. Which isn't to say what he did was a joke. But he walked the line smartly between the two. Many a time, Rob Dee and I would watch him and we would try and pin down what it was that he had. As a zine writer or a record label - or indeed as a music fan - we love nothing more than someone who is willing to get in people's faces, and challenge their ideas and perceptions. It doesn't matter how good or bad the playing is - anyone can practice and be 'proficient' - we are looking for something harder to define. We saw it in him and hoped he would make something of it.

Liam was also a Bambino, writing lyrics for the band, including their Philophobia release InBed With The Bambinos, and the split single with The Ran Tan Waltz (I always loved that Bambinos group shot). He would talk in length about constructing these lyrics and despite not being on stage for the gigs, was a dedicated member. Sadly, despite a lot of love in Wakefield, the band never got much momentum and disbanded in 2011.

It was around 2010/11 when I saw Liam most. Now much busier myself with Rhubarb Bomb, our paths crossed alot more often. He seemed to have ten new ideas every week; concepts for By By records, ideas for touring, or lyrics, or just people he would like to piss off. I took much of what he said with a pinch of salt. At that time, I had changed my own outlook on 'getting things done'. I heard alot of people talking about what they were going to do; writing a screenplay, forming a band, releasing a record, starting a fanzine etc etc etc but never getting round to it (alot of them are still saying these things now). I decided I didn't want to be like that and would never even talk about my ideas unless they were definitely going to happen.

Liam was like those other people in some respects, but the difference was that he didn't follow through on his ideas because he simply had so many of them - and many of them were wildly ambitious. Looking back now, it seems he needed other people to help him realise his ideas, because when he did make it to the finish line, they were great. The Bambinos was a good example of this, and when he saught help with By By, the results were also impressive. His track on the PhilophobiaMusic compilation was like nothing else on there and his self titled EP (first track below, my original review here) was impressive, building on the eccentric solo live shows. I wonder now if I could have

helped him more.

There was clearly a darkness to Liam too, which became more explicit in later years, but when amongst the right people in the right place, he thrived. And never more so that the Rhubarb Bomb coach trip to London in 2010.

Although he never shouted about it, he essentially bank-rolled that trip. I can't remember how, but he had come into a bit of money and had some vague idea about getting some Wakefield bands on a coach. We worked on it together and eventually 50 Wakefieldians coached it down to The Windmill in Brixton and Chat Noir, Piskie Sits and Runaround Kids played with Elks. I think everyone had a great time - it was a very memorable day out and jolly and communal in a way that only coach trips can be. Without Liam throwing £500 into the pot, most of us probably couldn't have afforded it. It's funny watching back now, we are all so young!

I think this was Liam at his best, showing his generosity and his love of his friends. He had a busy mind and was a thinker; his thoughts seemed to escape his mind almost uncontrollably, which could be a blessing and a curse. He seemed to flit from extroversion to introversion on the spin of a coin. Sometimes he would revel in his free-wheeling 'madness' yet was self aware enough to see how daft that was. Like all of us, he was just trying to find his place in the world.

I didn't see him very often over the last couple of years. Largely this was him frequenting gigs and the like less often. But a peace seemed to have entered his life too, that encroaching sense of domesticity that can arrive out of nowhere in your mid twenties. I felt happy for him. The eccentricities that veered towards disturbing and upsetting now seemed like the indiscretions of youth and I really hoped he had found his place. 

The last time I saw him was briefly at Long Division 2012. After that, my understandings of where his life went were restricted purely to Facebook updates from him and others. The story sadly turned very dark, details of which are not worth mentioning here. But whatever those demons that troubled him in his youth were, they were still very much present and these, combined with circumstance led everything else to unravel.

Liam's battle was always with himself. I am sure his close friends feel the same when I say that I wish he could have seen himself as others saw him; a good natured, considerate and thoughtful man. I can't pretend to know him well at all, but it was clear to all there was some internal struggle underway. He spent time in Fieldhead and I now feel naive to have thought he was 'better' when some of the troubles he had were probably just a part of his character, part of the person we knew. In mental health, there is no right and wrong. We can only measure it by how capable that person is at existing within society. Some people aren't built for that.

The saddest thing for me is that Liam was built for that, or damn near close. He was that great type of person that as an artist walked the line between madness and genius. He could be inspiring, shocking, thoughtful and evil. It would have taken just a couple of random acts of the universe to have gone the other way for him to have been a happy and successful man, and there was still time to engineer those changes. I wish I could have told him that, and I wish I could have helped him get there.

I can't imagine how bad things had got for him. We have to respect Liam enough to accept he made a decision based on things only he could truly understand and explain. But I wish I could have spoken to him and even though I barely knew him compared to so many, I feel like I have failed him in some way.

The tributes I have seen on Facebook show how important he was to the people who knew him best. I decided to write this as a way to try and remember him, and maybe to find a lesson in it all.

The latter is the hard part, and the part we are left to mull over for the rest of our own lives, but at least remembering him wont be so difficult; that boy was a complete one-off and I am glad I knew him.

Dean Freeman

The Wave Pictures Interview

The wonderful Wave Pictures are back in town for their second Long Division Festival appearance. Liam Tyrell spoke to frontman David Tattersall recently. The ingenious, witty lyricist and virtuoso guitarist talks releases, rhubarb & Wakefield.

  

The Wave Pictures were many people’s highlight of the first ever Long Division Festival. You performed at Henry Boons, where you also did a set with Stanley Brinks & Freschard. Any memories of that day three years back and how does it compare with other festivals?

I remember that day very well. I had a great time! It's always a lot of fun for us to play in Wakefield.   

You’ve been back to Wakefield and played a couple of shows at The Hop. This time around we’re really excited about witnessing The Wave Pictures in the regal surroundings of The Theatre Royal.  Does playing a new venue like this give you an extra buzz?

Yeah, I like to play theatres.

Do you prefer playing big stages or do you feel more at home in the more intimate venues like the tiny place Wakefield promoter Gary Cotton and I saw you at in Hamburg?

All different kinds of shows present different opportunities to you. I like the small, bar shows as these tend to be exciting. But I also really like to play seated theatre type shows, where you can go really quiet and play some ballads. I enjoy that. Anything that keeps you thinking on your feet is good.

The band has been busy as usual with some side projects.  You’re working again with Darren Hayman I gather and also have a charity release out in aid of the family of Jason Molina (which features Jeffrey Lewis whom we are also blessed to have here for The Festival weekend). Can you tell us a bit about these records?

We've just finished recording two albums. One as the backing band for Stanley Brinks, and one as the backing band for Hugh Noble and Adam Lipman. We recorded the Stanley Brinks one at Soup Studio in Limehouse, and the Noble/Lipman one with Darren Hayman, at his house. We're just the band on these albums. Hired guns! 

I wrote an article about the Jason Molina album. Anyone who is curious should visit ''The Wave Pictures - Songs Of Jason Molina'' bandcamp page.

(http://thesongsofjasonmolina.bandcamp.com/album/the-songs-of-jason-molina )

They can read what I had to say, if they feel like it, or just listen to the songs we recorded. We didn't know Jason personally - met him a couple of times in total. We were fans of his music first and foremost. I would recommend ''The Lioness'' by Songs Ohia, if anyone wants to listen to some of Jason's music. That's a great record.

You’ve also got a double album in the pipeline. Sounds ambitious but from the strength of the new tracks you aired last time out here it promises much. What made you decide to make it a double and when is that due out?

I never had a burst of productivity quite like this one. About forty songs came out of me in two weeks. We clearly had a double album on our hands. I don't know why this happened. But I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It wasn't a conceptual decision, this was just the album that we had on our hands to make. Things have never been better in the band - we're enjoying ourselves tremendously at the moment. Maybe that's why it came about. 

The three of you are now London based. You and Franic, the bass player, are originally from rural Leicestershire.  Quite appropriately drummer Johhny ‘Huddersfield ‘ Helm, happens to be from Huddersfield.  As well as that fifteen miles down the road local link I gather you yourself have a Wakefield connection?

I have family in Wakefield. I used to visit every now and again when I was younger.

Any plans to move to Manchester?  Only I hear one time member of our headliners The Fall , Marc Riley,  would like to have you as his resident 6 Music studio session band over in Salford.

Marc Riley has been so good to us. He's such a nice bloke. We'd do a session for him anytime we could. No plans to move to Manchester, nice as it is. I always enjoy a day trip there but I'm very happy living in London at the moment.

Thanks for your time David. Now, you are renowned for your  frequent foodie lyrics.  Any chance you could work on a future rhubarb reference in honour of Wakefield, the capital of the Rhubarb Triangle?

There's always a chance! I like to eat rhubarb crumble and custard every once in a while.

Boxing Klub Review

Boxing Klub

Boxing Klub EP

This week I’ve had a listen to Boxing Klub’s self-titled 3 track EP. The first track, Culture Vulture, pretty much tells you the whole story; it opens with an abrasive, dirty wall of noise and as it settles into its blues tinged riff the track flexes some muscle as it drives through gear after gear. There are obvious directions to point in terms of influences, let’s just say ginger hair, desert, friend of Arctic Monkeys and leave that there, because in its own right this EP is quite stylish and determined.

Time Machine plays with a more ‘British’ sound for the guitars and the vocals explore a slightly different path. These songs are sufficiently hook-laden to snag the cardigan sleeve of your interest as you brush past; not that I’m saying you wear cardigans, but I bet you do!

Right On Trend completes the trio of tracks and lends more weight to the argument that your Long Division 2013 itinerary should include them. Stylish, confident and just gritty enough to grab your attention is my conclusion. Now just pray that the weather arrives in time…

Matt Rhodie

Live At Leeds 2013 Review

Live At Leeds

May 4th

I missed Live At Leeds last year, and though it was for very good reason, I was excited to be back. The traipsing, the queuing; all the realities of a busy festival in a bustling city centre were far from my mind, until around 12:01, when they became hardened facts that persisted for the next twelve hours. But more on that later.

The thing I personally like about Live At Leeds is catching new bands, or bands that are just names I've heard in passing. That is partly by my own zine remit, and partly a recurring inability to actually see the larger bands without having to queue on a one-in-one-out basis. I just take it as read that I won't be able to see the Darwin Deez and Everything Everything's of a Live At Leeds line-up.

Perhaps it was this idea that brought home to role of the Press in this kind of endeavour. I'm so naive. I think I only just realised that all the silver wristed devils skipping the lines are not there in order to review bands and then give an accurate account of whether the festival is worth joe public spending their hard earned cash on it.

No, it's in order to write about, or shoot, the kinds of bands that attract visits to website, or whose name sell magazines; or attracts advertisers to the free ones. I thought writers were there to perform a public service! What a fool.

So my virtuous quest began in a safe and comfortable place; watching Mi Mye at Milo's. I've seen them maybe fifty times, but I felt I should support one of only three Wakefield bands on the 120+ band bill. What's with that? Flicking through the Live At Leeds programme it did cross my mind that perhaps bands in Wakefield simply don't use moody enough lighting in their press shots. How dowdy us Wakefieldians must look in our 90s attire, in fields of Rhubarb or outside pubs.

Mi Mye represent us well (despite being absent from said programme) although they are over critical of a snare-skinning mishap that left them with a drum that went 'Tong!' where it should have gone 'Boom!' But never mind. The three piece version of the band is now well worn in, but is able to slip from mournful and minimal to buoyant and beaming in a matter of seconds. I preferred it when the bassist had curly hair, but apart from that, it's a happy start to the day.

I briefly caught some of Charlie Straw at The Cockpit. Although far too country-fried for my cynical taste-buds, a great show was in motion, certainly so judging by the foot stomping that threatened to knock the floor / ceiling through.

A journey up past the wristband exchange revealed the extent of the queuing problems. Although the switch of venue seemed to make sense, something went terribly wrong. Up beyond that was the queue for the O2 Academy, which was equally dire. Queuing for venues at these types of festivals will always happen. But this year it seemed to happen at all of them, not just those holding the headliners. Was the whole thing oversold? It's a difficult thing to balance, creating a bill that has 100 capacity venues and 2000 capacity. If I had been a paying customer this year, it would have given me serious pause for thought. The hassle is close to overtaking the worth in waiting.

I saw James from Post War Glamour Girls hanging round Stylus. He was in good spirits before their show. Sadly I had to make a tough call and miss them in place of Middleman, but I heard a whole load of great things about their set, and I'm glad things are still on the ascendency for them.

Middleman are a difficult thing to warrant missing. But despite them being one of the busiest and most prolific live bands around, it’s a good while since I’ve caught a full set. The sound for the first couple of songs wasn't quite there, but whether it was them or the soundman settling in, over the course of their all too short thirty minutes, it all came together in spectacular style. And that made it special; it was like falling in love all over again. The Prodigy was the name that came to mind for me more than it has in the past; specifically the way the synth sounds on Liam Howlett’s last effort called back to their earlier days in the early ‘90s without sounding reductive or nostalgic. The same energy was there throughout, in the company of a smiling, celebratory warmth that radiates from band to audience, and back again. Every night is Wembley for Middleman. I hope Zane Lowe who had popped up North just to see them was as impressed as I was.

A twenty minute walk to The Wardrobe came next. To my shame, I often forget the place exists, the downstairs at least. Which is terribly because I reckon it is one of the best venues in the city. It's the perfect place for Sweet Baboo to tootle through their set of deceptively simple compositions of fey, winking songs about love and dancing, mainly. It's a polite sound, clean-guitar led that focuses on feeling and a persistent groove over volume or showmanship. Not a million miles from The Wave Pictures and the like; thirty minutes was just right.

Walking out of The Wardrobe to be faced with Aagrar's at teatime was too much temptation to resist. The following journey back up to Leeds University seemed less harsh when used to walk off a curry. Dutch Uncles waited for us in Stylus - a venue that is thankfully without queues, largely due to its architecture that welcomes large audiences.

Up on the many balconies, the sound was once again left wanting. Their energy didn't quite transfer to the back of the room but hey, I could have squashed my way to the front if I was that bothered. The aching stomach still dealing with the assault of Saag Gosht probably persuaded me otherwise but pleasingly many others had chosen to partake. It was a quality set, including an impressive 'duelling xylophone' section. The frontman worked the audience with his elastic hips, the band with style to spare. A good show.

Although I would have liked to have seen Darwin Deez, especially after missing an apparently awesome show at Long Division two years ago, I suspected only queues would await. As is often the case - and I suspect most people are forced to do this once the evening comes - the decision was made to stay exactly where we were, which did at least mean one of the headliners; The Walkmen.

Given the remit I laid out at the start of this review, they were perfect. A name I have heard a thousand times, often in gushing reviews, I've never actually bought a record, and could only name The Rat as a song of theirs. Given that reference point, they were quieter than I expected, generally, and not as directly exciting and powerful. The singer seemed in good spirits, having been 'playing darts in The Fenton all afternoon.’ A couple of songs encouraged a semi-pit of exuberance and I did enjoy the show, but I wasn't totally won over in the way I expected. I thought I'd be ordering a back catalogue the following day, but I'm still not sure. But it was a good performance from what was a shrewd booking from Live At Leeds.

The end to the day instead came from Sky Larkin. I've probably not seen them since a previous Live At Leeds, maybe four years ago and typically for a man rapidly leaving his twenties, I found comfort in this fleeting familiarity. The twelfth hour of drinking probably did it too mind, and though I remember little of the songs, I know it felt good to have them back.

Live At Leeds is unquestionably a good thing. The queues were a problem this year. And not just for the venues. The bar in most places too. And the toilets. Alongside the walking between venues it made it feel like hard work at times, and this is me happily seeing whoever I want, without feeling the need to get my money's worth, or please some editor or other.

Furthermore, this year left me with the feeling that the festival is becoming more like a showcase than an event. I saw good bands in good venues but none were especially memorable. The line-up, though expansive, felt like a collection of achingly cool 'potential next big things' thrown together, rather than a personally curated day and hence lacks personality as a whole. It's a great festival to see a massive chunk of music, and is also great at giving bands a chance to shine. But the feeling of quantity over quality raised its head, despite me not actually seeing a bad performance. I don't know what Live At Leeds is, I can't see a personality coming through, or an ethos. So it inevitably feels like a cattle market when you are being literally herded through queues most of the day, when it should feel like a sweet shop full of new and tasty delights.

Of course, Live At Leeds is more than a day of gigs, and I have to say that The Unconference was excellent. There's a big gig on the Sunday and the football tournament on the Monday, so my criticisms are directly challenged there. The community aspect is strong with all those elements; I would like to see this made more explicit on the Saturday.

Dean Freeman

Random Facts On The Future Of Music (Unconference)

I went to The Unconference for the first time this year. It is part of Live At Leeds and brings industry type people from all levels together to tell yocals like you and I what is really going on. It was a very well organised day, with some genuinely interesting insights across the board.

There were parts on the state of the music industry as one gigantic monolith, looking at sales and trends. Some were very direct suggestions to bands starting out and how to attract the attention of labels, radio and fans.

I came out of it feeling naïve, if anything. I guess, because I’ve been so immersed in DIY, I had almost forgotten what a huge business music still is. The absolute bottom line for bands out there is that you have to work incredibly hard, more so than ever. And you need to be smart – the future isn’t just playing chords on a guitar, not if you want to make this your living. I highly recommend going next year.

Anyway, I didn’t take a notepad and there was free beer too, so my memory isn’t excellent. But here are a random selection of points that stuck in my head for you to digest as you see fit.

- In the last ten years, globally, physical sales have halved. The rise of digital sales has gone someway to covering that shortfall, but not completely. In real terms, that means that in the last ten years five million people have effectively stopped buying music.

- CD sales still account for 57% of all music sales in the UK.

- Although it may seem like a complete nonsense, Facebook likes and Twitter followers are important to record labels and radio pluggers. Although people like Alan Raw at BBC Introducing plays what he likes, when those he champions are passed onto the likes of Radio 1 & 6, they use social networks to make a snap judgement on your popularity. Is it worth them playing you if you have 69 followers and no Twitter account? Although you may see it as a necessary evil, the industry sees it as a legitimate measurement of your popularity.

- However, do not for a second consider buying friends or followers. The worth of having them is that they are true fans - that is the whole point, if you are then to exploit / use those likes to develop your career further.

- The physical package is no longer the product. It is the experience of being a fan, and this is why social media is seen as so important.

- Couple of social media tips. 1) It is the best way to interact with and grow your fan base. Give it as much time as you can. Consider it part of your ‘job’ 2) Interact, don't just preach. If all you say is "Buy my record" it won't work. 3) Reward loyalty 4) Don't talk about music all the time. As in, the technical aspects. Most people don't care about the make of guitar, or the EQ on a recording, or some fancy chord. Talk about things people can relate to; influences, the meaning behind songs etc. 5) the official stat is that any post you do on Facebook, 10-15% of your followers will see it. At the most. So if you want 50 people at your gig, a guide would be to have 500 fans.

- If you dream of being a completely self sufficient band that can tour the UK in a van, the suggested guideline would be 50,000 Facebook likes, according to the label experts. So clearly just getting your friends to like your page is not going to work. How do you get more followers? At the most basic level, you have to be interesting - in what you post and what you do as a band. If you are always gigging, it will come naturally. If you play gigs in new places, if you get press off the back of it, they will grow. You need to be creative in your content creation.

- Do not pay radio pluggers to promote a release, unless part of a larger plan. Radio comes towards the end of a promotional campaign. It won’t work as a short cut.

- Some suggested that releasing records was a bad idea. It is akin to putting all your eggs in one basket. If you self release, or use a small label to, then that is a definitive statement. In May 2013 you released an EP. That sounds good now, but that has a finite lifetime. If you are releasing an EP the following year in the exact same way, does that suggest the first was a failure? If you are a band that is five years old and has released three albums and is still playing the local toilet venue circuit, does that tell the industry something it could otherwise waste thousands of pounds finding out - that you haven't got what it takes?

- There are loads of rubbish bands. There are loads of good bands. There are plenty of very good bands. The industry doesn't care about them. They only want great bands. Are you great?

- There was a listening panel that rated bands demos (bands that were in the audience). The majority of the advice seemed to be; you sound like so and so band. Get in touch with their manager, press agency etc Be like them as much as you can.

- More than ever, an audience can see through bullshit. You should bare this in mind when conducting your publicity. Of course, don't be boring, but do not have your photo taken in a moodily lit warehouse, or industrial landscape. Unless you happen to live there. If you think how much of an obvious cliché that is to you and I, imagine how many of those photos label bosses see. But above all, be honest and 'real'. Then your audience will connect with you (see social networking again).

- Spotify may seem huge now but it's not. Streaming is the future though. In ten years, downloads will seem pointless - they are a middle ground between physical and digital that will disappear. Quality physical products will survive though.

- World wide, of the top 10% of music buyers, the average spend is just £10 (or it might have been dollars). So if you spend more than £10 a month you are a big time music fan. The reason streaming subscriptions have not gone through the roof is clear from this stat. If you don’t spend more than £10 anyway, why would you sign up for free music for that fee? (the cost of Spotify)

- Spotify has a large turnover of users. A surprisingly large amount of people given free music, walk away. 22 million songs for free and they still go elsewhere... A good analogy for Spotify was that they are like a Trawler with their nets out, trying to grab every piece of music they can. They throw back anything that isn’t big enough. They aren’t bothered about over-fishing either, and the long term damage. Remember, the goal of Spotify is to get as big as possible, as quickly as possible, in order to sell their business to a major player (iTunes / Amazon) for a vast fee. That is their only endgame.

- Despite this, artists and record labels need to accept the streaming future and their main consideration should be how to be better than free.

- There is a large hole in the middle of the record industry. Due to accessibility improvements, small record labels are able to survive and adapt well. Large scale players still make money from physical sales and unlike most, are able to make money from streaming. The hole is the mid-level sized labels. Those that previously existed have either been swallowed up by the majors, or failed to adapt to the new industry. New ones don't emerge because small labels no longer make enough money to grow, and it is so apparent there is no money in the industry that very few are willing to fork out 100k as a start up. The net result is a greater gulf between small and large, one that is becoming harder and harder to jump - and often only possible with the helping hand of a major. So they still have the control, despite the digital revolution.

- Creating / selling an experience should also figure in your live shows. Hope & Social talked about creating a mythology. Part of this is making every gig an event. It can be highly detrimental to your career prospects to play the same venues, or type of venues, over and over again. The likelihood of getting new fans is low and the chances are you will lose fans through tedium. There has never been a better time to put on DIY gigs and experiment. As they said, if you do an exciting gig in an unusual place, you won't need to promote yourself endlessly on social media. People will talk about you without you trying. That is the ultimate goal.

- Record labels of the future will be more like production houses. The future of albums as one-off statements is supposedly in the past. In the digital age, an album will be a living thing, probably closest to what we now see as an app. It will still have a release date, but things will be added to it later on. Press cuttings, extra tracks, demos, session, photos, live videos. The technology exists to do that now, but the slow take up is down to the structure of larger labels. They likely don’t own the lyrics - the publishers have that. And the photos are copyright to someone else. It's all separate. A smart label starting up now will sign an artist not just to release their music, but to do everything; tours, merch, promotional photos and videos, side projects, lyrics etc. This likely happens with smaller labels already, albeit in an unofficial capacity. This is a way that smaller setups can get the jump on the majors, but you really want to get good mates with someone hot with coding and web design.