Why learn to drive?

Recently I spoke to someone at an office party.  The conversation somehow moved to roads, which gave me cause to reveal that I had never learnt how to drive. This caused this someone to erupt into a violent chuckle. He sincerely apologised as he tried to control his laughter, managing to force a cough in order to stabilise himself after the shock of meeting a grown man who is incapable of controlling a car. I thought I’d better learn.

The last time I was behind the wheel of a car was when I was 19. I had five lessons, where I more or less learnt how to move a car forward. I’ve put it on the backburner for the last few years. This backburner has been fuelled by a range of highly unoriginal excuses, such as it’s bad for the environment, having car is really expensive, I’ll never use a car, etc.

So why don’t I drive? In addition to being plain lazy, driving seems like something from an alien world.  The length of the time that I have spent not driving has made the idea of me being in the driver’s seat seem completely unfathomable, something that I just don’t do. I’ve also been in five car accidents, all of which occurred before I was 12, which I suspect may have embedded in me a deep rooted reluctance to drive.

My renewed enthusiasm for getting behind the wheel made me particularly interested in an episode of This American Life, called ‘How To’. In ‘Roadrunner’, Ira Glass teaches Sarah Vowell how to drive. (Skip to 06:40 to get straight to the Sarah Vowell piece)

This is a fantastic piece of radio, since it bounces two great institutions of American radio off each other.  Ira Glass, the eekingly inquisitive host of the show. Sarah Vowell, who has the ability to deliver bitingly sardonic observations, all the while in her peculiar voice, which makes her  sounds like a cross between a small child and what I’d imagine a teddy bear would sound like if it suddenly gained the ability to talk.

Ira Glass

It’s episodes like these where the idiosyncratic personalities of the show’s contributors make This American Life an engaging listen. The show can sometimes works like a sitcom as the entertainment is from observing how established characters react in a novel situation. If this was a Friend’s episode it would be called ‘The one when Ira tries to teach Sarah how to drive’.  Inevitable larks ensue as the anxious Ira tries to handle a fear-stricken and reluctant Sarah Vowell.

It reminds me of when I first learnt to drive in the congested roads of Tooting Broadway. After a few minutes of tuition I was put in charge of the car. I didn’t experience the much lauded joy of driving. Instead, I felt as if I had inappropriately been entrusted with a weapon, capable of wreaking havoc, inflicting damage and maiming members of the public. As Sarah Vowell explains in the episode, “Driving is my greatest fear. And it's not a totally irrational fear. There are things about driving that are in fact dangerous, like learning to pass another car without hitting it.”

Sarah Vowell also sprouts wonderful rants on the evils of the car, on how the “car class” builds a destructive society that lacks in adequate public transport and guzzles fossil fuels. Such incoherent and nonsensical diatribes would be familiar to anyone who has asked why I don’t drive. You see us non-drivers like to make the best of our situation whenever we can. We are not lazy; we are financials geniuses who have carefully calculated that buying a car, paying for petrol and scouring for parking is something that only fools would indulge in. Furthermore, we are not too incompetent to pass a test; instead we are pillars of morality, eco-warriors who are the only ones willing to righteously stand up to those evil oil conglomerates and announce “No”.

Sarah Vowell

Listening back to her panic-fuelled recording in the car, Sarah acknowledges the absurdity of her reasons, saying “I don't know who that humourless fanatic was. Though in my defence, I was grasping for any reason to get out of this driving mistake. Let me assure you that I care about fossil fuels precisely as much as everyone else in America…. which is to say not at all.”

When I restarted my driving lessons last Friday, it felt completely different from before. It felt more natural. I think my teenage anxieties had left me. Perhaps my adolescent apprehension has been replaced by the hot headed hubris of the young adult.

I suspect it feels easier because driving is something I’ve developed a genuine interest in. Sure, I’m learning partly because it’s something I feel I’m obligated to do as part of the general human-experience. However, I’m increasingly drawn in by all the possibilities that driving offers.

There’s bit towards the end of the This American Life piece were Sarah Vowell finally finds joy in driving while ordering a meal at a Drive-Thru Burger King, indulging in her childhood desire to access fast-food on the road. I think I’d love all those little things I’ve always coveted from being a mere passenger. I suspect that I’ll feel that I have fully arrived once I’ve had the ability to gain full control of the stereo, change the CD, turn up the volume and speed off into the distance.

Retail in Review: Free Comic Book Day

Orbital Comics

Free Comic Book Day felt much more fun than Record Store Day. You got the impression that it was a celebration of something genuinely cherished by shop staff and comic book fans.

I went to Orbital Comics, which is right next to Leicester Square Tube station. There was a fairly short line where two staff members were dispensing free comics. Everyone could take 3 comics and the staff took their time to ask me what comics I normally read so I’d get sometime I’d enjoy. I also grabbed another bunch of free comics from Forbidden Planet, which is this big comics/merchandise megastore that is based a short walk away from Orbital. I recorded a few interviews at Orbital and made an audio package for Roundhouse Radio:



There was quite a broad range of comics on offer. Most of these were compilations of previews to various series, some were first issues introductions and others were one off specials for the day. Fortunately a lot of these comics have now been made available online: http://www.bleedingcool.com/2013/05/06/free-comics-if-you-missed-free-comic-book-day-damsels-grimm-killjoys-star-wars-aspen-aphrodite-xi-steam-engines-of-oz-molly-danger-and-more/

Grabbing the free comics

The Walking Dead comic (an on-going series about a group of survivors in a zombie apocalypse) was a particularly interesting. It appeared to be specially crafted for the fans of the series, giving snippets of insight into the back-story of the main characters and even had an allusion to the joy of comics. You can read it here: http://imgur.com/a/K57Ah

Fun loving costumed fans at Orbital Comics!

There was the usually comic crowd (adolescent men with skin-problems), but there were a fair amount of parents with their kids. In fact a lot of the comic books on offer were for kids, so the day had a lively family feel.

Free Comic Book Day came across as a celebration of the medium, as opposed to being a day to celebrate a system of commence. There’s certainly an air of glee in the air, since as opposed to being charged for something at an inflated price, the comics are given away. It felt like a day out in Orbital Comics, since there was a stall selling cakes, fans dressed up in costumes and staff who were really keen to have long talks about comics.

My horde of free comics!

The difference is that Record Store Day isn’t about promoting music (since virtually everyone loves music anyway) while Free Comic Book Day was an occasion for people to share something that they were truly enthusiastic about – which certainly made it a lot more fun and heartfelt.

Retail in Review: Record Store Day

Record Store Day was on the 20^th April, which followed two weeks later by Free Comic Book Day. I checked both of these days out. Both were nice. However, Comic Book Day felt less like a commercial affair, coming across as more genuine than the frantic scramble for records I experienced in late April.

Record Store Day champions the world’s independent record shops, battling against the likes of Soundcloud, Itunes, Amazon and the rest of the 21^st century. The day is normally accompanied by limited edition singles being released on the day and in-store performances.

I heard that my favourite surf-pop band, ‘Best Coast’, was releasing a limited edition 7 inch vinyl single. Since I was in town on the day I thought I’d swing by Sister Ray Records.

What I did like was Record Day was that it gave a festival feel to London’s Soho, since there was stage erected on Berwick Street, which had assortment of bands playing to entertain the crowds.

 What I did not like was the mega queue I faced when I got to Sister Ray Records. The queue was so people could get their hands on the all the limited edition singles. It’s apparently become a normal part of the day for people to begin queuing in the early hours of the morning.

We were passed a list of the records the shop still had while in line (which snaked on for another 10 minutes once through the doors), so we could request the record we were after the second we got to the counter. It made everything feel rather commoditised. It wasn’t a day when people had the record shop experience of listening to new records, browsing through unfamiliar albums and having pleasantly inane chats with staff. Instead it comes across as a day for record aficionados to revel in their niche tastes.

 It’s not really for kids or people with a passing interest in music, since the limited release 7 inch records are extremely expensive – I spent £7 on Best Coast’s ‘Fear of My Identity’ single. Incidentally, the single was fantastic and it did feel nice to get something that felt exclusive. 

However, it seemed to be something for record shops to make more money out of the kind of people that come to such shops anyway, something to make up for their dwindling sales throughout the year. What it didn’t do was bring across why people should buy something in a shop as opposed to getting it cheaper online. 

Review of the Knife at the Roundhouse

The mildly bonkers Swedish sibling duo known as the Knife performed last week at the Roundhouse. The show ended up becoming one of the most controversial gigs of the year, dividing critics and fans.

Me and my friend Mainga expected a standard concert (opening with a few tracks from the new album, some of their hits sprinkled in and with some fan favourites for the encore), though we got something very different. The audio clip is our immediate reaction after leaving the Roundhouse.

They opened with “A Cherry on Top”, a song from their new album. It was a misty dry-ice set with Olef and Karin (the Knife) plus about seven people dressed in druid cloaks (Sorkklubben). Looking back on it, the whole thing was very Spinal Tap. 

It took me a while to realise that the giant oversized toy-like looking instruments they played (a large paper mache harp and a 12 foot slide-guitar among others) weren't actually real. They were in fact props. 

After first track, they lost the druid cloaks to reveal simmering jumpsuits. They dropped the fake instruments, instead proceeding to dance and mime to a backing track. All pretence of a musical performance was dropped as various members of the dance troupe took turns in miming the songs. There were remarks that it was a “hipster Pan’s People” and “Riverdancing in sparkly jumpsuits”, which are descriptions that I can’t entirely disagree with. In many ways it stopped being a concert and instead became a stage musical that featured songs by the Knife. 

Two things made it worthwhile. First, the on stage visuals were mostly interesting and inventive – an amazing piece which stood out was a performance of ‘Got 2 Let U’, where a video of Karin in a fake beard mouthing to the song was projected the alongside a lip-synching male dancer (err… you sort of had to be there).

Secondly, it was a performance with a cheeky point. It was a deliberate challenge to what an audience would accept as a band performance. It questioned the connection between the visual performance and the music that was played. It gradually pushed the acceptability of what a band could get away with; first with the band not playing instruments, then by them not singing and then by everyone leaving the stage at one point to allow ‘Full of Fire’ to play in its near entirety accompanied only by a techno-rave light show. 

There was a delightful shock factor at the sheer audacity of essentially playing a CD for fans who expected a standard concert. Though, it made me wonder if it was substantially different from using a sequencer or DJ-set. It made the audience contemplate how they wanted to have the music reproduced. It is clear that no fans wanted to see the Knife because of Karin and Olef’s dance moves. Given that the majority of the performance was carried out by the Sorkklubben dancers, the night could have been substantively the same if Karin and Olef didn’t turn up.

It was food for thought… but in many ways that is not why I wanted to see The Knife (I was looking forward to busting a move to a bass-heavy rendition of We Share Our Mother’s Health, with Karin singing at a mic and Olef looking moody behind a sampler). I saw a previous live performance in youtube of 'Heartbeats' and something along these lines would have been more welcome.

The Knife's performance at the Roundhouse was more interesting than it was entertaining. I’ll certainly be pondering about this gig for a while to come… but frankly I was happiest at the end, when Karin sang a reworked ‘Silent Shout’ to a dazzling light show. Simple, live and melodic.

Eat Your Own Ears at the Roundhouse

One thing I can’t stand about waiting in line outside venues before gigs is all the folks shoving music promotion leaflets in my face. I have to repeatedly mutter my lack of interest to avoid stacks of paper listing bands I don’t care about accumulating in my back pocket.

The one exception to this is Eat Your Own Ears.

It’s not just that they consistently promote the bands I’m into. I know that any bands I see listed on their flyers are bound to be interesting and alternative, yet reasonably accessible. Being promoted by them is almost like a stamp of quality, making EYOE a discerning gatekeeper that shifts through the multitude of indie riff-raff slushing around these days.

Plus, unlike the usual drab promotion flyers handed out around London EYOE marks itself out with colourful graphics that catch the eye with their simple yet sleek designs.

They generally put shows on the in best small-sized venues in London, such as the Lexington and the Electrowerkz. However, in late March they ventured outside their usual comfort zone and put on an event at the Roundhouse. 

It was called ‘Handpicked’, with EYOE showcasing five up and coming bands. 

What made the gig interesting was the fact that these currently small-time acts got to a play in a setting that was more grandiose than they were used to. In addition to the music, there were inventive visuals projected onto the stage, making it a quite a spectacle.

I spoke with the bands playing on the night - Michael Lovett of NZCA/Lines, William Doyle (aka East India Youth), Thomas Saunders from Teleman and Tony Harewood from Paradise. I got their views on Eat Your Own Ears:

Paradise

Paradise was the opening act. Their music was rather wide ranging, starting off by playing a nihilistic dirge that sounded fantastic – though they also played songs that had a hazy feel, making them reminiscent of both My Bloody Valentine and the Animal Collective. They were a five piece band creating a sound that contained keyboards and pounding drums that were mixed in with screeching feedback. They sounded remarkably controlled, being able to create a powerful noise that didn't descend into a muddled mess.

I spoke with Tony Harewood from Paradise just after their performance that night. Keen ears will hear, in the background, a civil exchange of words with a member of the Roundhouse staff who was asking us to leave the area.

Paradise was followed by the second act, East India Youth, which is in fact a one man band consisting of William Doyle. He was probably the most experimental of the acts. He sang with a swoon that reminded me of Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor. When his voice was combined with the layered pulsating chimes of the synths the result was really quite captivating.

East India Youth

Songs such as ‘Dripping Down’ have this splendid uplifting quality. While his last song was a bit too repetitive and self-indulgent for my liking, most of his more experimental pieces (such as a song which consisted entirely of an electronic voice reading out the names of English train stations) were genuinely intriguing, putting both the high quality sound system and large space of the Roundhouse to good use.

I spoke with East India Youth just before the gig. He talked about the Roundhouse and why he doesn't like to be called William Doyle.

The third act was Dark Bells. When Dark Bells were two songs into their set the friend I went with turned to me and said “I’m bored”. I was feeling the same way. They were a 3 piece which played gloomy music with a guitar sound that had a 80s indie metallic clang. However, they did seem to get better as they went on and it was more a matter of the sound not doing the band justice. I think that this is because it’s the singer’s sonorous voice that carries their songs, so once the volume of the vocals was brought to the fore of the mix the band were finally able to come into their own.

Dark Bells

Second to last were Teleman - who out of all the bands playing on the night were the ones that came across as those most likely to make it big. They actually sound almost retro, as in they sound like a lot of the self-consciously kooky bands that were around in the noughties. They remind me of Whitest Boy Alive, since their songs have an underlying groove whilst also having a sense of measured restraint.

Teleman

Songs like their new single ‘Cristina’ went down very well with the crowd and their fantastically poppy songs are clearly ready for a mainstream audience.

I spoke with Tom Saunders, the lead singer of Teleman, after the gig - chatting about sexy music and winning at the Roundhouse.

The headline act was NZCA Lines, a three-piece that is fronted by lead singer/keyboardist Michael Lovett. They have a soulful-electro sound, which packs swooning RnB vocals alongside by sparse percussive monotone synths. On stage they reminded me of the 80s pop style groove of Kindness, though cooler (and less-full-of-themselves).

NZCA/Lines

They finished the night with their song ‘Compass Points’, one of my favourite tracks at the moment, which pleasingly combines ghostly vocals with pulsating synth-beats.

Before going on stage Michael Lovett took some time out to tell me about futuristic sci-fi pop music and how to pronounce NZCA Lines.

Grabbing a photo of myself while waiting for NZCA/Lines

All in all an enjoyable night.

Plus, I got to speak with the bands backstage, making me feel like a proper music journalist for the first time! Very excited to get the backstage pass - though the backstage areas were not nearly as glamorous as I thought it would be. There was the noticeable absence of beautiful groupies. Instead there were tangerines peels and crisps packets strewn over messy dressing room tables... alas, the life of the modern rock star. 

Spark London

Well, it's been a long time. So, let's get this blog back on the road.

A few weeks ago I went to a show that relied on an intriguing concept. The audience pays their hard-earned cash... enters... sits down... then gets up on the stage and entertains themselves.

It was Spark London. It's a story telling event, where regular people get up on a stage and tell true stories to an audience. They tell tales that are based on a theme. Since it was during the same week as Valentine's Day, on the night that I went the theme was inevitably... love stories.

There were a rich range of stories. Roughly half of them were stories on romantic love, with rest being about familial love, friendship and lust. Some were told with a with a rehearsed professional slickness, though the best were those that were volunteered on the spur of the moment and regaled with a degree of heartfelt amateurism.

I brought my Tascam recorder along, grabbed a few interviews and made a report for Radiohouse Radio's 'RoundUp'. The whole  show can be heard at http://www.roundhouse.org.uk/explore/radio/roundup). Here is the Spark London report:


The first few stories were told by those that arrived early and signed up to tell their tales. But those were only three stories, so within less than 20 minutes there was a break. It was really quite fascinating as the host had to franticly search the audience for stories. The audience members shyly shifted around in their seats as the host asked them "Are you going to tell a story tonight? It's far less scary once you're up there on the stage".

This is the most exciting aspect of the night, as you become slightly apprehensive about whether the night will abruptly come to an end. The challenge of finding enough stories and the spontaneous nature of the evening adds to the thrill of it.

Spark London founder, Joanna Yates

The amazing thing is that the set-up works. People do suddenly decide to tell stories to the audience, and fantastic stories at that. I heard touching adventures about old lost relationships that never were and humourous incidents involving bizarre sexual mishaps. It's very much an ongoing a process, as the stories the audience hear prompts them to share their own experiences.

What makes the night special is that there is a communal feel to the place. It is not a night to passively absorb a performance, rather it feels like a little society that you can choose to observe or participate in. The night is quite social, as after the stories people mingle and chat with the tellers about the stories they told.

I spoke with the founder, Joanna Yates, after the night. She summed the feel up quite nicely when she said that it "doesn't feel like that separation, with these are the people performing, and the great ones, and we're all the mortals listening. It's all very much like everyone's in it together". Below is a longer edit of the interview I had with her:

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When the night ends the story tellers get on stage to an applauding crowd. It feels all rather triumphant, with this feel that they all pulled it off together.

Another thing that is really quite lovely is that everything is recorded at Spark. So not only could they use your story in their weekly podcast (though only with your permission), they will send you a copy of your story to keep for posterity.

You can hear the past stories and find out when the next night is at http://www.sparklondon.com/.