aprilcoffey-blog

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THANK YOU BOOMTOWN FOR LETTING ME GO FOR FREE FOR WRITING DIS! I love you and I had a great time

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Recently I did a preview of Boomtown for Rhythm Passport, hoping to cover the festival and review it as well. The preview is focused on world music as Rhythm Passport is a (great!) online world music magazine. Check it out!

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Supa quick preview I wrote of MIA’s Meltdown recently

#mia #miasmeltdown #southbank

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Oh and while I remember here's a quickie I did on the Jesus And Mary Chain again for LOTI 

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This gig was absolutely amazing. I admit I did miss Eaves (opening act) as I had a cheeky other pint in the Strong Room instead. But people I asked said he was great too - sorry Eaves! I finished writing this review at work (being a proper cheeky bint) so not as polished as it could or should be I guess. Haphazard as ever...

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This is a review I did for London On the Inside of King Krule with Thidius and Haraket. I really wanted to do this review as the venue is very dear to me (the Fox and Firkin of Lewisham) as are George and Izzy of Thidius. It was also just a fantastic gig and night in general! However for the first time LOTI cut literally half of what I wrote (particularly about support acts) which was fair enough in that I am a bit of a rambler and struggle with self-editing and am always in a bit of a rushy jumble... BUT someone else cutting out large chunks always feels haaaaaaarsh. Here's my original piece: 

Three young South East London bands tonight at the Fox and Firkin in Lewisham, and every one of them looks at home on the stage. First up are the cool, calm and collected Haraket, whose dreamy soundscapes are a lot more transfixing live than from audio alone. The lead female singer rocks a Grimes-esque haircut, the synth player cooly chews gum on stage, but this is no arrogant hipster band. Haraket are bloody talented, balancing their dreamy vocal reverbs with gritty urban beats and sensibilities. They have a diverse sound, drawing on everything from electronica to funk to jazz. Trumpets are pulled out of nowhere and used in an almost dub-like fashion, to beautiful and unique effect. Songs like the quietly hypnotic ‘Levelhead’ convey what Haraket does best - building modest layers of vocals, drums, synths and trumpet into an awesome crescendo of lush sound.

Thidius take the stage second. Again we see a young band that are completely in their element on the stage. They may not appear nervous, but urgency is something they certainly don’t lack. Neither is soul. Young Izzy Risk sings with a depth that is beyond her years, and with a tone that is truly unique, sounding simultaneously strong and vulnerable. Her and brother George exchange long glances onstage, while the band play track after immersive track, drawing the crowd in further and further. George’s fluidity with the guitar suits the eclectic nature of the band; we see him moving seamlessly from jazz-inspired breaks to a rock groove or dream-pop chord progressions. The band perform a flawless set, even busting out Blondie cover ‘Heart of Glass’, to the delight of the crowd, as well as old favourites like ‘Tell Me’. Newer songs from the ‘Rush You’ EP show exactly why they are currently touring Europe with King Krule - there is so much promise in their already stellar performance.

Speaking of stellar, here comes the most talked about 19 year old this side of London - King Krule. Archy brings his trademark swagger to the stage, and the sweaty young crowd positively heave with energy in response. This is not really the kind of music that you dance to (although plenty of tracks like ‘Lizard State’ are loud and up-tempo), and that’s partly because King Krule is something to behold. He is a bit of a contradiction; at times he snarls and spits in a punk-like style, with the ‘fuck you’ attitude of Sid Vicious. At other times he appears awkward and utterly endearing, and we are reminded of his age and overwhelmed by his talent. His songs are both beyond his years and also blatantly the dialogue and frustrations of an angry teenager. Archy certainly knows how to handle his guitar, and he has assembled a solid group of musicians as his band. In particular, his drummer is one of the tightest I have seen in a long time.

They finish the set with ‘Easy Easy’, ending a night of serious talent and bright young things. The cool and quietly confident sound of these three bands is backed up by a sense of soul and grit that is often missing in the Shoredification of London’s music scene - it seems that South East London is the place to be.

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A review I wrote for London On The Inside of Warpaint's Camden show at KoKo.

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Ho hum not my best effort but it's actually a band worth checking out. Time to get back on the writing horse; neigh!

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This is a review I did for London on the Inside of a Relics and Paradise gig in the Shacklewell Arms on the 21st November. Suffice to say the support band were too into distortion and the main act were much too poppy for me. I struggled with how to convey this and yet remain objective. 

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Sir John Soane Museum

The Hunterian Museum and the Sir John Soane Museum. Two weird little free museums, facing each other on Lincoln's Inn Field. I had not a notion who Sir John Soane was but went there first because of all the amazing things I had heard about his house-turned-museum. Apparently he was a famous English architect from the 18th and 19th century, whose most influential work (The Bank of England) has been largely obliterated.

His biggest legacy is now his house, which was once three houses. Over many years he demolished and completely reconstructed the interiors to his own grand design. This labour of love was made into a museum in his lifetime, in a nasty move in which he actually began a parliamentary campaign so as to disinherit his son George. George sounds like a lairy writer type who ran up loads of debt. The other son was sickly and not making the cut. So the government kindly assisted Soane in allowing him to donate his house and everything in it, and created the museum, which today is also a national centre for the study of architecture.

It's probably one of the best free museums I've been to. I got really excited about the Geoffrey Museum down the road from me but then it turned out to be just a lot of different couches and stuff. John Soane however, did not disappoint; the sheer grandeur of the place is worth going for. Tonnes of absolutely opulent rooms, but every inch covered with fine art. Imagine the kind of people who have a 'breakfast room' and really high glass-domed ceilings, except they also have the desire and ability to completely gut and rebuild their house to their own architectural specifications. You walk around, scared to knock something over with your elbow and struggling to fit down the passageways. They can only let 80 people into the entire museum at one time.

Understand that the house is not small, just absolutely crawling with oddities from all around the world. The sheer quantity of THINGS is unbelievable. The nice security man told me that because Soane taught architecture in a time of war, many of his students were unable to leave the country and truly experience the architectural offerings of Europe and beyond. So he brought everything, everything, back to London. Life-size Roman figures, Turner paintings, and of course the famous sarcophagus of Seti I, which is covered in hieroglyphics. Yup, that's just a massive Egyptian pharaoh's sarcophagus in the middle of the room, Ramesses' son or what have you. A steal for Sloane at 2000 quid back in the day.

I was impressed. It's aesthetically a wonder but also a really interesting museum. Though I am the kind of person who finds the history of the place more intriguing than the 30,000 architectural drawings that are there upstairs somewhere. Go to this place and then go to the astounding Hunterian Museum across the lawn too. But eat first. Because it was really strange being starving hungry in a medical museum surrounded by tumours and fetuses in jars.

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About frigging time. Brain too mushy lately

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Strength and Vulnerability Bunker

Speech Debelle has curated the latest Koestler Trust exhibition, showing for free in the Royal Festival Hall until the first of December. The only thing that unites the creations on display is the theme of 'Strength and Vulnerability' that Debelle chose. That and the fact that every piece of art was made by someone in captivity; prisoners, patients in secure psychiatric facilities, immigration detainees and offenders on community sentences.

Walked in and was greeted by a really calm and personable guy. He gave us brochures and seemed eager to interact with everyone visiting the bunker. The first thing to see is a pirate ship made of cardboard, and then on to masks, then the some of the most affecting portraits I have seen in a long time, then songs, visual pieces, poetry, crafts. Certain themes begin to emerge, and Debelle has curated the exhibit well, choosing pieces chiefly for their ability to emote. 

The pieces seek forgiveness, and display isolation, confinement, escapism or boredom. Crafts and sculpture are made from things as obscure and magpie-like as chicken bones, bread, matchsticks or soap. A tiny birdbox window reveals a cramped prison cell inside instead of birds or seed. A shoebox diorama reveals a miniature crack den, complete with tiny Trainspotting poster and overflowing ashtrays. More conventional pieces show amazing patience and attention to detail.

I cannot think of a better way to remind the general public that not everyone who goes to prison is a violent, anti-social person, incapable of reform or reflection. The lovely guy who was at hand when we entered the gallery also revealed himself to be an ex-offender. In fact eight ex-offenders will be working to help run the bunker for the duration of this project. This young guy had been sentenced to 2 years for intention to graffiti TFL property; interesting how one kind of art can lead to another.

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The Regent's Canal

The Regent's Canal is always open, always free. Stretching from the Limehouse Basin to Camden and Little Venice, and winding past Victoria Park and Broadway Market, this is not the tourist hell one would imagine it to be. On the contrary, it's often a refuge for me, silent but for a few joggers and the dinging of bicycle bells. I love the Rosie and Jim boats, I love the wino bums, I love the graffiti, I love how removed it feels from the city of London.

Living in Dalston, I confine my canal ramblings to between Angel and Mile End. I try and sometimes run along them in the morning, doing a loop around London Fields or Victoria Park. As you come through the tight tunnels, people are generally remarkably courteous and logical about how to use the small amount of pedestrian/cyclist space. A great jogging route, and when you cannot afford a gym membership, you must make the world your gym, for free! 

For when you fancy a coffee, the Towpath Cafe is on the Regent's Canal just outside of Dalston in the De Beauvoir area. It is reasonably priced, very cute and an absolute find. However, best to come in the quiet day times. The canal and this cafe become a lot more active on the weekends, full of hipsters and yummy mummies looking for brunch. 

The Broadway Market is just off the canal and opens rain or shine on Saturdays from 9am till 5pm. The stalls generally sell organic or gourmet food; lots of different flavoured pestos and olive oils, amazing baked goods and freshly made juices. I've also spotted more specialty items like ostrich meat and knitted bras. While not the cheapest market in town, the fruit and veg is always a really good deal. Check out John's fruit and veg stand, and although I do not know the name of who operates the other one, they sold me a half dozen of the best eggs I have had in years for less than 2quid. The Vietnamese coffee stall is also quite cheap. For me it is less about the gourmet food selection, more about the atmosphere of this crowded street with brilliant buskers. Just go, and buy a samosa, and mill around and enjoy it.

The other 6 days of the week you can get some great lunch deals on this street of lovely restaurants, pubs and cafes. F. Cooke's classic pie shop is pretty cheap, if you fancy a banging pie with parsley sauce, mash, chili vinegar and a cup of tea. They also do a veggie version. Or you could picnic in London Fields, haven of hipsters. Park-wise I much prefer Vicky Park, which is just another few minutes walk down the canal. Victoria Park is much much bigger, has less of a mucky grass issue, and has great trees for climbing. Nice lake too, and London's oldest public park.

Go for a walk on the Regent's Canal and discover a different side of London. I've only touched on the different bits and pieces that lie on and around the canals. Go exploring and find the cafes, book and hat shops, even a stage, that are floating around on beautiful narrow boats in these waters. 

Photos  © Aoife Hastings 2013

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Carnaby Echoes

This is quite a clever little project, and free! Lucy Harrison has effectively curated the infamous Carnaby Street, leaving plaques willy nilly and doing interviews with people from "back in the day". I had never been, due to my intense dislike of the claustrophobia that is Oxford St and most things Soho way.

Most of the articles that I read about this project are heavy on the photos. Pictures of mods, gurning Sex Pistols and hand jivers (a dance apparently invented due to the lack of space to dance freely in The Cat's Whisker club, I learned) are beautifully nostalgic and interesting, and are ultimately what led me to check Harrison's project out. I found the beginning of the trail at 20 Foubert's Place. It was a small room, with some photos on the walls, some interview footage and some free maps and headphones. In a separate room at the back, you can watch more interview footage of characters like Boy George and Dynamo. Oh. Not a photo exhibit then. Picked that one up a bit wrong. I asked the nice lady running the space about this; judging by her reaction I was not the first one to make this mistake. I sat and watched some of Harrison's interviews for a while, taken with the descriptions of the Smash Hits and NME offices in their heyday. 

I really really wanted to love this project. But I did not get the full experience because I do not own a smart phone. You are supposed to download the Carnaby App (which is free, and they do have a free wifi point nearby at Kingly Court) and walk around the commemorative plaques, listening to voices of the past reminisce about the swinging sixties and goth clubbing. I like the idea of creating a narrative that contrasts recollections of a Soho underbelly with the sanitised Soho that confronts us today. This is also a bit sad, as most of the buildings and businesses from this time are long gone. Instead you'll find Jack Wills, Boots, Pret a Manger et all; though there are some independent boutiques and all that. Worth a visit if you're in the area and have a smart phone of some kind. 

©Ray-Stevenson

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British Army Museum, Chelsea

I don't even like armies or wars or anything like that. I need to be fed all historical facts via osmosis, such as with a historical novel or movie. Hell, I learned all the details about Maggie Thatcher through that great flick where Meryl Streep rambles around doing some first-class dementia acting. But there I was with my History Friend, newly finished his History Masters and up for a day on the town checking out Napoleon's horse's skeleton. And it's free and a 10 minute walk from Battersea Bridge, where I just so happened to be when he suggested it. Plus our original plans to go to Parliament had to be scrapped because Cameron was busy and wasn't around for question-time-Wednesdays. 

I'm a big fan of free museums. You can't give them too hard a time because hey, they're free, and so have a lot less impressing to do. Not like they're charging you 17 quid and you feel obliged to absolutely rinse it, reading every tiny piece of text until you're just headachey and confused. Well, yes it's free, but a bit boring to anyone like myself who isn't so into miniatures of the Battle of Waterloo and weird mannequins holding muskets. History Friend loved it. Found out in the gift shop that he had actually been there before. But then this is a man who deals exclusively in days out of a political/historical theme. I dabble, but am much more a person of the arty picnicky outdoorsy foodie persuasion. Also there was some kind of army regiment in suits going around and experiencing the museum very intently. Don't know how they felt about the "Grim Reality of War" picture that History Friend's Other Friend coloured in with lots of red crayola and left stuck to a display.

So what do you get? You get... the aforementioned skeleton of Napoleon's horse. You get to learn that his hooves were made into snuff boxes. You get weird jaundicey looking mannequins in lots of different poses. You get lots of glass cases of old military uniforms (that look teeny tiny, as does Napoleon's horse, weird...) and weaponry. It's just all a bit much, and also quite British and 'God bless our jolly good troops!' in a way that unsettles me. But I'm sure if you are really into that kind of history, or if you've served in the war, it'll be right up your street. I mean everyone's just raving about it on Trip Advisor. So maybe it's my bad. For being the kind of person that has not a foggiest who fought in the Crimean War.

Two disturbing things at the end: One; A temporary exhibit that is about people who have lost limbs and lives to IEDs (which are basically landmines, as far as I could fathom) in Afghanistan etc. Really jars with the whole 'jolly good' business that permeates the rest of the museum. Two; Found a beautiful pastel-coloured leaflet where they advertise 'Birthday Parties for Girls and Boys at the National Army Museum'. Weird, no? The "Major" package is 395 quid for 20 kids. The "General" package is 495 quid. Apparently the party menu will "satisfy a soldier's appetite" and the party bags are a "camouflage drawstring kit bag containing camouflage stationery and an extra souvenir from the Museum shop". Well, it's no Disney Land. 

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Sahaja Yoga

Not sure how I feel about this one. In the name of all things hippy and soul searching (and also to avoid job searching) I attended the free 90 minute Sahaja yoga meditation class right by my house. I entered a room full of plastic chairs and Indian pensioners and after a brief and difficult to hear introduction - this place is on Kingsland High Street, hardly a yogi refuge - we got stuck in to an hour and a half of guided meditation.

Sahaja yoga is essentially a form of meditation in which you use various techniques to attempt "thoughtless awareness", a phrase that appeals to the relentless white noise and blabber in my brain. However, achieving this seems to constantly be interrupted by either snoozing or giving in to said blabber. I initially felt embarrassed and as though I was drawing attention to myself; head nodding over and over, I fell into delicious nap after delicious nap. Oh, how frustrating to basically sit in a dingy room falling asleep in a plastic chair when I am supposed to be attaining "self-realisation" and smug spiritual nirvana! Luckily the incredibly loud snores of several around me woke me up and eased my guilt somewhat. This was no ashram. Several loud farts erupted at the back of the room at one point, leading the teacher to encourage us to "not be distracted by external noise". Truly it is the inner noise that is the difficult one to silence, and meditating in total silence is difficult when you've got the Overground going by your bedroom. But farts are just too funny and irreverent to ignore.

Apart from the meditation, we also watched a video of Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi, Sahaja Yoga's guru, who they affectionally refer to as "Mother". There were also a lot of pictures of her around the place, and we were encouraged to think of her when we were meditating. I for one found this element a little creepy and cultish. Another thing which irritated me was how pushy they were about this cool breezy feeling you are supposed to feel on the top of your head and on your hands. They kept asking me if I felt it and at the end were kind of whipping the air around me to encourage my 'Kundalini' to awaken. I felt obliged to concede some tingly feelings in my index fingers, though the cynic in me privately wondered if that could be from holding my hands in the same position for over an hour. When I left I was given a picture of my new "Mother" to use for meditation at home.

The dark humoured skeptic in me (picture a lady version of Bernard Black in 'Black Books') bucks against all of this. I mean, I literally thought of blogging this whilst attempting to clear my mind of all thought. However the yuppie hippy in me embraces the fact that Sahaja Yoga is free to everyone, especially after paying through the nose for Bikram Yoga in more financially prosperous times. Bikram Choudhury, after all, is a much more questionable guru figure, and his classes cost the earth. But Bikram classes left me feeling ready to conquer the world, in addition to burning 900 calories a class (that's like a whole roast dinner and a pint). I can only conclude that achieving some kind of mental clarity is a lot easier through exercise and physical strain. Sitting down and confronting your inner monologue through meditation alone is actually the really difficult option. My brain will not shut up.