Heading ta Reading… part 1

So another Reading Festival has come and gone and I’m still alive, if only just.

We arrived at Reading on Thursday after a fair amount of train wrestling. People, it is almost impossible to walk down the aisle of a train while carrying a pop-up tent… do not try this at home. We went for Yellow Camp, with Simone (AKA Simole) and I getting to queue up for 45 minutes while Josh and Niamh swanned through the guest camping line.

We got what we thought was a good spot near the path between yellow two and three… except them no one camped next to us (except one side of me) and we ended up ON the path. This meant we had no wind break from the endless swirling dust (which I will get to later), the nasty little tent shakers and random camp theft.

Camp set up... let the drinking commence

After a quick trip into town to buy some camping chairs and drinks, we headed back to camp and met up with Brett… and learned the lesson of pacing ourselves. A visit to the Action Aid tent to play Foos Ball got my ipod dock stolen. Bollocks To Poverty is not supposed to involve actual theft! I was in a coma before 9pm with the others asleep by 10. When we woke up in the morning someone had liberated not only my chair but also Josh’s wellies… from out of our tents… while we were asleep in them.

Me and Simole

And then after breakfast, it was time to finally hit some bands!

We started the day with Dananananakroyd, who were bouncing off the walls again. John doesn’t appear to have recovered yet from his injury that halted their recent Australian tour because he wasn’t behind the drums but they were awesome as ever.

We stuck around for Manchester Orchestra, whose singer has a remarkable resemblance to a garden gnome, especially when he wears his read beanie. It was a solid set… can’t say much more than that.
I then dragged Niamh and Josh to see Streetlight Manifesto. It was absolutely skatastic. So much fun.

Simole and I decided to see if The Horrors were any good live. They weren’t. Oh Faris, for fuck sake, we know the whole cult of your band is built around you being a miserable bastard but try acting like you’re actually an animate object and maybe have a sandwich.

I checked out Fall Out Boy on my own. It was a really fun set… proper greatest hits type stuff. I was somewhat distracted by the couple dry humping in front of me and the girls next to me who kept shrieking that Fall Out Boy is their favourite band and then talking through every song really loudly.

Back to the NME tent with Simole, where we caught the end of Florence And The Machine. Obviously I know of Florence as I haven’t been living under a rock, but I hadn’t really heard anything of hers. She is absolutely fabulous, I will be investigating further.

Friendly Fires was my set of the day. It was insane. Everyone was completely in the spirit, spurred on by Ed Macfarlane’s absolutely insane dancing. Short of the nipple-rubbing, he’s got a full Bob Fossil on the go.

You can't see much but this is the pure mayhem of Friendly Fires

Finally we all convened for Kings Of Leon, which was the oddest set I saw. The band seemed like they couldn’t be bothered… which lead to a massively disinterested audience… which lead to a very irritated Caleb Followill. As much as I love the Kings, it was all a bit shit really.

Kings Of Leon... meh...

The energy was up for the evening though after our early night on Thursday and we headed to the silent disco with Josh’s sister, Eshie and friend in tow. I’ve got to say silent disco is one of the craziest/coolest things I’ve ever done. I’m not sure why when no one else can hear you singing along, it seems like you’re obliged to sing at ear-bleeding volume or why it’s easier to dance like a nutter… but it is and it rocks.

Mixtape – August 09

I know it’s quite early for the August mixtape but I’m off to Reading later this morning and I won’t be back to the blogosphere until 1 September and I’m guessing you lot will want to hear about the festival carnage on my return. I have somehow ended up having a very acousticky, slow playlist this month… completely unintentional. Here’s a little Spotification so you can join in…well partly since they have no new Brand New, no Ghost Cassette and no new Kill Hannah.

Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly, The Lighthouse Keeper – I’ve adored Sam Duckworth since seeing Get Cape at Reading last year.

The Distillers, The Hunger – When I first heard The Distillers, I thought Brodie was a man. I love her voice, it’s so haunting.

The Horrors, Primary Colours – The new Horrors album is amazing and this song is my favourite of the lot.

Brand New, At The Bottom – The latest from the ever more exciting Brand New. I want the new album nooooow!

Innerpartysystem, Night IS Alive – Ah, electro-carnage… you’ve got to have it!

Alexisonfire, Burial – Bit non-standard for Alexis, less of George Petit trying to make the walls bleed and more of a showcase of Dallas Green’s incredible melodic vocals.

Forgive Durden, Toba The Tura – Please someone at FBR make Razia’s Shadow into an actual music. Do you hear me, Daddy Wentz. Everyone would come and see it, everyone!

Ghost Cassette, Hypoxia – I have no idea where I even got this little bit of  mournful electro-acoustic misery but I love it.

Kate Nash, Mariella – It might surprise you to discover that I LOVE Kate Nash. There’s soething so identifiable about her lyrics.

Manchester Orchestra, Wolves At Night – I’m new to this band but so far I’m falling for them big.

Elton John, Tiny Dancer – Hold me closer Tony Damzaaaaaaaaaa!

The Audition, Don’t Be So Hard – This is courtesy of Punk Goes Acoustic 2. I’m not actually sure what the original sounds like but this rocks.

Kill Hannah, New York City Speed – The latest from our favourite 80’s electro synth-~Goths. With Mat Devine at the helm what could go wrong. Show me the new album!

En al die cherries sê ek’s nogal cool, vir ‘n wit ou*

After 25 years, The Offspring still rock. Barb, Hilton, Josh, Niamh and I discovered this at Brixton Academy when we went to see them last night. Despite the fact that vocalist, Dexter, is showing some middle aged spread and poor old Noodles, with his skunk in a blender haircut, is practically hunched over (he is close to 50, bless him), they still have buckets of energy and the same old California stoner charm that made all of us fall in love with them.

Let’s face it… The Offspring haven’t really put out an album that anyone could be bothered with in 10 years but their back catalogue is blistering with skater-punk, “yeah yeah yeah” fuelled, fist in the air classics and so they scored big with what was pretty much a greatest hits set. The audience went suitably mental, with breakout moshpits popping up all over the floor and a remarkable amount of male semi-nudity ensuing. Niamh and I spotted one guy who had lost his shirt, trousers and shoes.

I think what made it stand out from recent gigs for me was just how much fun it was. We even had an interlude where two roadies came out to entertain the crowd, one leading everyone in a silent arm waving dancing and the other juggling apples that he seemed to be absent-mindedly eating at the same time. By the time we got to Self Esteem everyone was drenched in sweat and grinning from ear to ear. My only complaint is that they didn’t play Gotta Get Away, which is probably my favourite Offspring song. Definitely a fitting warm-up for Reading 09.

I present you with a little video of Dexter treating us to a solo rendition of Gone Away. Who knew he could play the piano?

*my “hilarious” Afrikaans translation of  “and all the girlies say I’m pretty fly, for a white guy

Film study… week 12

Evening
On her deathbed, a woman (Vanessa Redgrave) remembers her loves and losses from when she was Clare Danes while her troubled daughters (Natasha Richardson and Toni Colette) bicker around her. As a romantical films go, this one isn’t bad although a lot of the story seems to be underdeveloped. It’s like someone has taken an epic novel and condensed it to highlights. Also the conclusion of the film that there is no such thing as a mistake is a bit questionable.

Ok, who put superglue in the brandy?

Elizabeth –The Golden Age
This film isn’t bad. It just isn’t good either. Queen Elizabeth (Cate Blanchett) stomps about, ordering everyone around and being a moody cow and then wonders why Sir Walter Raleigh (Clive Owen) is shagging her best mate and her own cousin wants her dead. Oh and there’s the Spanish Inquisition… which nobody expected…

I wonder if anyone will notice that I've farted

Family Guy: Blue Harvest
Ok, it’s not a film, it’s a special episode but I didn’t realise that until I’d watched most of it. I’ve only watched one or two episodes of Family Guy but I’m sure this reimagined version of Star Wars would have been a lot funnier if I was a fan. It was still pretty amusing though. Funny thing is no matter how much the glaring plot problems in Star Wars get pointed out by spoofs, it’s still like the best film series ever.

It's a the millenium cheese slicer!

Fast Times At Ridgemont High
This is a typical teen movie following a bunch of high school students through a year at Ridgemont High. I’m not sure why but even though the subject matter is virtually the same, in the 80’s the teen movies were so much better. This one is particularly worth watching for Sean Penn’s turn as stoner surfer, Jeff Spicoli. Oh and it happens to be a Cameron Crowe.

Uh, dude, has, uh, anyone seen my bagel?

In the eye of the beholder

Author’s note: Since Edgar was never really flash… I’m beginning the numbering again at 28.

Flash 28

I see how they look at me. They think I don’t notice, but I do.  Or maybe they know I notice and they don’t care. If I were them, I’d stare too. I know they’re not staring at me because of me. They’re staring at me because of him.  When I am not with him, I fade into obscurity with every other ghost on these streets, with everyone else too boring or unattractive to warrant any further attention.

But Luke is not boring or unattractive. He is as near to perfect as anything mortal I have ever seen. 6’2 with that hair that falls just right in his eyes without him having to do anything with it and eyes that are impossibly blue so it looks like he’s wearing contacts, but he’s not and the contrast between the dark hair and the bright eyes is striking. He’s got broad shoulders and just enough effortless muscle to make him look like he works out but doesn’t obsess about it and when he smiles his mouth goes kind of lopsided and he gets a dimple, just one, in his right cheek.

I didn’t think he was human the first time I met him. He came into my shop to buy a picture for his mum. We talked for a while about the composition of the photograph he had picked and how I had set up the shop. I didn’t blush or giggle or flirt because we’re not even the same species. When he came back time after time and bought more and more photos and prints I didn’t think anything of it. I have plenty of regular customers. Even when he asked me out I just assumed that someone else had bailed on him at the last minute and he didn’t have anyone else to take.

Because, you see, I am… not. Not what you would expect for Luke. Not the girl who makes people double-take. My hair doesn’t fall right, it’s kind of like a hedge, my eyes are more of a muddy pond brown than anything you’d remark at. I don’t work out. And I’m not one of those cute chubby girls who carries her curves with a sexy swagger. I am fat, plain and simple. I shuffle along trying to hide my body. When I tried hair-straighteners and make-up and all of that stuff, I just looked kind of like my dad, with make-up.

I’m not getting down on myself you see. I’m not one of those girls who says, “oh I’m ugly really” and then waits for the compliment. I am a realist. I am honest with me.

The first time Luke kissed me, I ran away. It was so unexpected that my only reaction was flight. Poor boy. He thought I didn’t like him. As if. He’s not only beautiful, Luke is kind and generous and sweet. He’s gentle and funny and ambitious.

He says he doesn’t notice the way I look and that my personality is perfect. He says to him I am more beautiful than any of the modelesque girls  who try to chat him up even when I’m with him. The girls who assume that I am his sister or some poor unfortunate friend.

I have what every girl dreams of and I hate it.

Although Luke and I have been together for a year, I don’t trust him. Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t look at other girls. He doesn’t stay out all night. In fact, he never leaves my side. But I worry constantly that one day one of those lithe blonde angels will catch his eye and he’ll compare me to her and recoil in horror at what he’s put himself through. I never relax because I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And so I am often cold, distant, accusatory… when all Luke has ever shown me is that he wants to love me. He never gets angry. He soothes my ego  and fusses over me, smothers me in affection that I don’t feel I deserve.

But even worse than my trust issues is the looks. Those snide looks. Not just from the twiglet models but from other girls like me. The ones who hate me for putting the idea that someone like me could have someone like him in front of them. For making them look at the barely normal guy they’re dating and compare. We  upset the balance of nature and no one likes it. We are wrong.

It’s funny how many men you see with women way out of their league. Women who are much younger, slimmer and more beautiful than their partners. Short men with bald spots and paunches and bad teeth with their arms around supermodels. No one stares at them. I guess they just assume that the man has money or power or both and that the woman wants it. The fact that we accept these couples without a blink but with a judgement makes superficial gold diggers out of us all.

But there is nothing anyone can do to stop me from doing what I have to do tonight. I have to end this. I can’t live under this pressure, this scrutiny anymore. The judgement I can hear buzzing around me, the hatred I feel seeping out of every pore makes me hate Luke. I can’t look at him. I know this is not his fault but it feels like it. I wish he were fat. I wish he were bald. I wish he was shorter than me. I wish that a life with him was not like walking next to a red arrow pointing out all my shortcomings. Tomorrow I will vanish again and I have never been so relieved.