Tuesday, August 29, 2006

V For Vitality, Virtuoso and Valiant

"In an interstellar burst, I am back to save the Universe"
(Radiohead, 1997)

A rather bald statement to make, Dear Readers, but fear not as service has now been resumed. What shall then follow over the next few days is a review in four parts. A quadrology if you like. And, like the Alien quadrology, the first two will probably be excellent, the third thoroughly depressing, and the final installment a little bonkers and all over the place. Or maybe not. This has been my experience of the last two weeks, ranging from feelings of slight mania and recurring jokes about Germaine Greer, David Cameron and Morrissey through to feelings of uselessness, introspective self-reflection and the questioning of your own sanity. In short, it's been the usual emotional rollercoaster a trip to Devon usually brings about. And yes, there's even photographic evidence to support it.

So we begin with the V Festival that took place over the weekend of August the 19th in Weston Park, Staffordshire, although if you'd have read any of the reviews or watched any of the television coverage you'd have been forgiven for believing that it only took place in Essex. Anyways, the trip up to V can largely be forgotten, aside from noting that spending twelve hours in the confines of a Ford Fiesta is enough to send Yours Truly thoroughly out of his tree (you see Dear Readers, I started questioning my sanity within a day of being back associated with the West Country). I don't know if you've ever seen the classic episode of One Foot in the Grave entitled 'The Beast in the Cage', where Victor Meldrew ends up stuck in a Bank Holiday traffic jam on the Motorway, but that is the immediate reference point. At one point I was willing to recreate R.E.M.'s Everybody Hurts video and just abandon the car and walk off across the neighbouring fields. I still think the reasoning for this comes from over-exposure to such 'classic' songs as Paul McCartney's Mull of Kintyre (in my opinion, the worst song ever recorded) and The Frog Chorus.

Anyways, after pitching a tent in the dark and the rain on Friday night, Saturday brought the expectation of watching some bands, even though the main acts to be looking forward to were playing the next day. The continuing rain meant spending the entire weekend in Wellys (and, if I don't mind saying, looking terribly nonchalant with it), and a continual threat of downpores to dampen the spirits. This luckily was not to be the case. The music began in light drizzle over on The Other Stage with a band called KEITH. Keith is a terrible name for a band. It's the kind of name you give to a comedic old guy in a sitcom (or maybe that's just my love of the dark genius of Marion and Geoff?). Keith (the band) had won a competiton on Channel 4 to open the festival this day and their lack of experience and nervousness duly shone through. Too many times their drummer resorted to bashing the hell out of some cow bells, or the singer swearing and encouraging the crowd, whilst their songs, although pleasent and energetic, were ultimately forgetable.

It was then time to drag my compadres into the Carling Union Tent to witness my New Favourite Band (TM), THE GRATES. In short, they're absolutely fantastic. An Australian three-piece consisting of guitar, drums and vocals, their very line-up reminds you of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The key difference being the delivery since they lack all the New York art school posturing and agonising necessity to be insanely stylish and cool. Instead, they have an irresistable charm and innocence, which hides a much darker, coarse subtext in most of their songs, and in singer Patience they've an undisputed star in the making. She throws herself around the stage with such joyous enthusiasm that you can't help but be sucked into their world. The set showcased their album 'Gravity Won't Get You High' well, with my personal faves 'Inside Outside', 'Science is Golden' and '19 20 20' being saved for the end.

With a broad smile on my face, and some rather tasty food in hand, it was time to make the journey back out into the rain towards the main stage to take in THE DANDY WARHOLS. In short, the Dandys are everything The Grates are not. They swagger on stage, ignoring both each other and the crowd, start playing their instruments at different times and gradually come together to start playing a song. In honesty, the set is peppered with such recognisable tunes as 'Get Off' and the crowd-pleasing 'Bohemian Like You', but the can't-be-assed delivery, lack of energy and 'How long have we got left?' comment before set closer 'Boys Better' ultimately produce a distance between the band and the audience.

The SUGABABES appear onstage polished, in more than just the vocal department, pleasing the crowd with a few hits but before too long its back into the dry confines of the Union to witness JIM NOIR, an upcoming singer-songwriter in the Badly Drawn Boy quirkiness style. Noir appears on stage with his band, accompanied by a selection of lamps and garden Gnomes, singing songs about losing your football, computers, and playing music in the key of C. It's an entertaining, pleasent and melodic thirty minutes that culminates in recent single (featuring a video with a man taking on a 10ft fall chicken) My Patch that gets the whole crowd singing along.

Back out into the rain then to witness a band I thought I knew nothing about, DELAYS, on the other stage. One of the best things about a festival is introducing, or being introduced to, great bands by your mates and this was a case of that. A good few times their melodic harmonies and sunshine-drenced synths make you forget that you're stood in the pooring rain, whilst other songs suggest a darker, more epic, U2-esque feel to some of their new material. All this whilst accompanied by some spot-on falsetto vocals from the singer. Although the crowd were most behind recognised hits such as Long Time Coming and Nearer than Heaven, the other material proved popular hinting at a gathering fanbase for the Southampton band.

Over on the main stage, HARD-FI seem to be throwing the rock and roll kitchen sink at the audience to underline how great and down to earth they are. Truth is they're neither. Singer Richard flits between cliche (regularly telling us he 'doen't believing how great this weekend is'), appeals to being 'like the audience' (tedious reminders that they also used to work in unsatisfying jobs), and entries from the F**k Dictionary liberally to underline how horrid they actually are. Seen as though I only caught the last four songs, and three of them were their hit singles, the rest of the set must have been something dreadful as what I witnessed was crap.

There's something about being at a festival that, in my experience anyways, means you end up hankering for a bit of nostalgia in the late afternoon/early evening period. It seems that just as everyone else is preparing for the evening's acts to raise the bar a bit further, I end up requiring something secure and dependable, and what with all these new acts I'd exposed myself to over the course of the day, the chance to see GOMEZ was more than endearing. That and the fact they were playing in the indoor JJB Arena, rather than being stood out in the (incresasingly cold) rain. Now Gomez are a dependable live act. I've seen them three times now, and they've never disappointed. If anything, the sizeable crowd, the reaction they recieved, and their obvious disappointment at only being given forty minutes to play, meant they should have been on later and for longer somewhere else. Having said that, the reason that they're such a dependable bet is because a) they're great musicians that obviously enjoy playing together live and b) they like a bit of a party. Despite the unfamiliarity of their new material, it was warmly recieved by the crowd, the classics never disappoint with Whipping Piccadilly firmly documenting that great feeling you get when you do something totally random like jump on a train and see where it takes you.

Remaining in the cover of the JJB Arena, it was time for the crowd to suddenly age a good few years as THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH emerged to a thoroughly warm reception. Unfortunately, the popular opinion of Hull's Second Finest Band these days is that their a bit old and a bit dull. True, their new material has been a bit patchy as of late but that hides the fact that they've got one of the most intellegent, biting, yet poignant lyricists this country has ever produced in Paul Heaton. What's more, the crowd seem to lap up his presence, constantly chanting his name and hanging off his every word. The set wisely consists mainly of their best known material, but the presence of fan fave 36D (the song that says more about contemporary feminism a lot better than anything Germaine Greer could ever come up with) is more than welcome. Elsewhere, Don't Marry Her provides a welcome bit of tongue-in-cheek humour and You Keep It All In is greeted rapturously. Shame there was no Song For Whoever, but a great time was had by all.

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT. Does that name mean anything to you, Dear Reader? Aside from his sister's hauntingly beautiful duet on the new Snow Patrol record, and a rather hazy recollection of one of his album's being reviewed on Newsnight Review, I knew nothing. When his equiptment, consisting of a piano and an acoustic guitar, was set up I didn't know what to expect. What was experienced was the most mesmerising display I've ever had the privilege to witness. For one guy to hold the stage with such presence for fifty (too short) minutes was amazing, and whilst I knew none of his material I was at convicned by the end that I needed to hear more. Midway through he covered Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah and I, like a lot of people, thought no-one would ever match the haunting quality Jeff Buckley's version captures. I always liked to be proved wrong, however, for this was a very special, intimate performance.

So it was time for the evening's headline act to be seen, and whilst Morrissey flounced around in his typically airy, self-deprecating manner on the Main Stage, and Razorlight turned the arrogance levels up to eleven elsewhere, the promise of some snarling, raw anger and the best frontman in contemporary music proved too much of a draw. However, THE COOPER TEMPLE CLAUSE were victims of problems from the word 'Go' tonight. Gordon Strachan once said about a humiliating Celtic defeat in Bulgaria that death would be easier than that particular night, and unfortunately that same analogy would apply to the Coopers tonight. Their set was delayed by the previous band over-running. It took an age to set up their trademark wall of electronic equiptment. When the intro music (sounding suspicously like the intro to personal fave New Toys) jammed the signs weren't good. Then the wall of electronics shorted out mid-song leaving them stranded and having to wing the set. The Same Mistakes was started and then abandoned about thirty seconds later as the bass gave up. In honesty, it was testament to the band's resolve that they didn't just walk off and abandon it. Many other's would have. Still we were treated to new material in the shape of Damage, Head and Homosapien which all displayed their trademark snarl. And the sight of lead singer Ben Gautry stood perfectly still, illuminated by a single low red light, brooding in a mix of intensity, passion and anger as he sings is worth the problems since his vocals (and their delivery) literaly ooze authenticity. It was just a real shame that all the other elements were against Team Cooper tonight.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

A Silence Falls

Just to quickly let you know, Dear Readers, there'll be a temporary hiatus of all things Bronze Medal for the next couple of weeks whilst I take an extended leave of absence. Yes, it's time for me once more to return to that 'delightful' place of origin, Newton Abbot, and see what it has to hold for me this time. It surely can't be any worse than the last trip back, put it that way.

So by the time normal service is resumed many things will have passed: my recent trip to Manchester will (unfortunately) be a memory; the trip to the V Festival, complete with glowsticks and a worryingly small number of tents, will have come and gone meaning I'll have seen Radiohead live for a second time (v. excited about that); my Mother and my Gran will have aged by another year; Ed and Kieran will have experienced a night in Newton Abbot; hopefully, the Savages will also be around so that more hilarity can be experienced there, and at least one evening will be lost to pints of Diesel (that's local cider with the unfortunate ability to inflict immediate amnesia on the person drinking it) . Who knows, maybe the Universe will have worked out what's fundamentally wrong with it by the time normal service is resumed? I've been getting quite worried by all of this war in the Middle East and imminent threat of terrorist attacks. Never forget Dear Readers, there is always hope.

So, that's a nice upbeat note to leave things on. I wish you all well for the next couple of weeks, and I shall hopefully return, with photographic evidence, from my travels.

If not, avenge my death.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Here We Go Again

Ha ha! So to my amazement someone left a comment here about my Who-related rant. I do apologise for the last post since it was a bit unfocused. Still, opportunities to discuss DVD releases and mention Timelash in a celebratory, yet ironic, manner are always few and far between. Anyways, now attention turns to far more serious things, since we are on the eve of another nine potential months of false optimism, occasional flashes of brilliance, but eventual disappointment. Yes, on Saturday the football season kicks off, and Exeter City once again set off on their noble quest to drag themselves back into the Football League.

Apart from this time I'm being a lot more realistic, a bit like after England going out of the World Cup acting as a sobering realisation of just how rubbish a team is. You see, Dear Readers, last season we should have been promoted. We had the players, the manager, the momentum, and a general sense of optimism coming from ending the season as the league's form team and, of course, that unforgetable draw at Old Trafford in the FA Cup. For the first half of the season, this was the case. We flew through to Christmas, achieving some great results and being second in the league. There's a certain irony that I saw the 4-0 demolition of Aldershot on Boxing Day and tricked myself into believing that we were certainties for promotion. Two days later and Alex Jeannin's left foot did what it rarely did in two years with us: scored a goal, therefore condeming us to defeat against Hereford. From there it fell apart. Spectacularly. And to make matters worse, Torquay didn't get relegated either.

Over the summer, we lost our manager (although some might say this was a good thing). We've also lost our Cult Hero, our club captain and a few other people along the way. We've replaced them with ... well, the players haven't been adequately replaced and the manager is some unproven person with only experience of managing a university team. Although the acquisition of Adam Stansfield from Hereford is welcome, he can still fail. After all, I had high hopes for Craig Farrell last year and he didn't perform. Consequently, I don't expect us to win at York on Saturday. I don't even expect us to win our first home game next Tuesday against Forest Green Rovers, seen as though history is against us there. Some might well accuse me of being pessimistic and, truthfully, I'd agree with them. The only thing is after three years of being overtly optimistic and ending up disappointed I've decided for a different approach. Plus, it's always nicer if you've got lower expectations and they're exceeded. So let's hope I'm proved wrong. Let's hope this is the Grecians year and, more importantly, let's hope that if we do get ourselves up there the usual vertigo doesn't set in. Oh, and while we're hear, let's hope for an end to the good start to the season being experienced by Torquay and Argyle.

CyberControl's Top 5 for (tentatively) approaching the new season:

Kasabian - Empire
Boy Kill Boy - Suzie
Roddy Woomble - My Secret is My Silence
The Cooper Temple Clause - New Toys
Idlewild - Live In a Hiding Place

Monday, August 07, 2006

Why?


Oh dear, Dear Readers, can it really be true? Is someone somewhere in the depths of the BBC sat there laughing hysterically at the trick that they've just pulled? Are people really sat in their houses, gathering their pennies together in a desperate attempt to pool their resources and purchase the abomination to the left of us? Yes, Dear Reader, someone somewhere thought it would actually be a good idea to release Mark of the Rani on DVD. However, what makes it worse is the way in which they're pitching this to the public, under such statements as 'a Historical Epic' and 'the Introduction of a Classic Doctor Who villain'. Ladies and Gentlemen, advertising lies. Please, listen to the words of someone who more often that not triumphs Eighties Who for its tackiness, and avoid this piece of rubbish. If you want to see a better, similar story then buy The Visitation. If you want to see Who at it's most dreadful best (yes, I'm fully aware that's an oxymoron) then go to eBay, type either 'Timelash' or 'Warriors of the Deep' into the search and buy yourself a cheap VHS copy of either of these.

"Surely it's not that bad!" I hear you crying in defence, Dear Readers. The answer is, I'm afraid, that it is. What's wrong with it? Firstly Pip and Jane Baker are about the worst writers the series ever saw in the history of the programme. When a CV contains such 'illustrious' highlights as Terror of the Vervoids (yes, it was the first story I ever saw and gave me nightmares when I was four. Nowadays it gives me nightmares that it gave me nightmares), The Ultimate Foe (probably the biggest load of nonsense from a period characterised by a load of nonsense) and, lest we forget, Time and the Rani (camp, dayglo rubbish featuring Bonnie Langford and Kate O'Mara playing Bonnie Langford) I think you get the picture. If there were any justice in the world they should be locked in a cupboard marked 'Let's Not Talk About This' and left to gather dust somewhere.

Secondly, so much of the story is complete arse. There's people being turned into trees, a baby T-Rex, something to do with Luddites and Eric Saward's by now tedious tendency for tying things into actual historical events. You know what, it's that nonsensical that I can't remember what the motivation of the Rani actually is. Aside from that, you get Anthony Ainley not having learnt anything from Planet of Fire and so still coming across like a pantomime villain, Nicola Bryant's dreadful costume and Kate O'Mara trying to out-do Anthony Ainley in the 'Who Can Overact the Most' competiton (as you probably gathered, no-one in my opinion will beat Graham Crowden in my opinion). I'm going to stop as this will just turn into one long rant against the story and I don't want it to be that. What I'm trying desperately to understand is why the BBC would choose to release this, unless their trying to show fans of the new series (who the classic DVDs seem inherently marketed towards at present) that this is about as low as you can get and to be thankful for what you have at present.

However, as a result of this grievance, I offer a slight variation on an established tradition by positing CyberControl's Top 5 Classic Who Stories That Should Be Out on DVD:

5. Timelash - Oh, it's nonsense! It's such appauling nonsense that it needs to be out on DVD for people to laugh at. To my knowledge the only Who story to be that underlength that it requires the worst twist possibly in the history of narrative. It's got the (always amusing) Paul Darrow in it trying to be intense, a pointless cameo by H.G. Wells and a pathetic looking torture device made from tin-foil. Worrying thing is I've worked out a nice documentary you could add on to this as a DVD extra. Yes, I have too much time on my hands.

4. Kinda - Given my great admiration for Season Nineteen (yes, including Time-Flight) the delay of this behind The Visitation seems strange. In equal places creepy, wierd and moving, it features some great ideas, some great acting from Janet Fielding, a possesed old Imperial and one of my favourite moments in Who history: when (the now deranged) Hindle emerges from his fort and discovers one of his cardboard subjects is broken he disparingly shouts at the suggestion that the 'person' could be glued back together "You can't mend people!" Never a truer word spoken. Oh, and then there's the huge paper-mache snake...

3. Image of the Fendhal - Arguably the series' last genuinely creepy story, and certainly the last of the Seventies Gothic turn. The image of the skull with the glowing eyes still unsettles me to this day, and when it all goes a bit bonkers at the end of Episode Three it's a great pay off: a possesed woman and some large, worm-like creatures, and the idea of mankind being the breeding ground for a greater intellegence all make this an often overlooked piece of brilliance in a period approached negatively by most of the fan community.

2. The Greatest Show in the Galaxy - During Sylvester McCoy's period, when they got it wrong, they got it wrong spectacularly. However, when they got it right, they made some of the best stories since the early Eighties. This is such an example. Arguably a comment on both the programme's status within the BBC (the Doctor forced to perform three Gods of Entertainment for his survival) and on the programme's fans at the same time, it's twists and turns are great, Ace is used well and the shot where the Doctor destroys the Circus is amazing.

1. The Sea Devils - The Master watching 'The Clangers' whilst in prison! Sinister, iconic creatures with cool, Seventies guns emerging from the sea wearing dresses! Some really great episode cliffhangers, especially the one with the diving craft returning empty from its mission! This story has it all and, when repeated on BBC2 in the early 90s, hooked me into the programme. For many years I've tried to perfect drawing a Sea Devil. For many years, I've failed. However, nostalgia aside, if this doesn't come out on DVD soon I'm gonna have to buy the video.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Superior Quality Recordings

Right then, in celebration of the fantastic news that the Lads are heading out on tour again in the latter quarter of this year, and as quite rightly predicted by my good friend - the esteemed Savage McCee - this post is dedicated to one of my favourite bands of, well, the last twelve years: The Bluetones. Although their blend of truthful, heartfelt, melancholic lyrics and jangly, harmonious guitars never conquered the world, they 've consistently managed to absolutely nail my experience of life. Consequently, they've had a profound impact on both the outlook and guitar-playing skills of Yours Truly since the youthful days of Bluetonic in 1995. What follows then is a brief taster of some of their best lyrics from the past four albums. I hope you enjoy but in all seriousness just go and listen to all their albums as there are many more gems within.

"Sometimes, I smoke, I drink and I ponder
Can work wonders
When you're down, it takes your frown, and turns it around
And you, when you try, and make a difference
You're so different, to when I try and just die"
(If..., 1998)

"And if you remember me in a while, that's enough
And if you remember me and smile, that's enough"
(One Speed Gearbox, 2000)

"Can't be bought, and you can keep tomorrow
Can't be saved, there ain't no flies on me
Can't be caught, the plague that ate your soul can keep away from me"
(Are You Blue or Are You Blind, 1995)

"I keep my thoughts in little boxes
Boxes underneath the bed
Under the bed with your photograph, and the image is fading"
(Never Going Nowhere, 2003)

""The future is dead", that's what you said
"It's all in your head, you see
Not mine, I'm fine, I've arrived""
(4-Day Weekend, 1998)

"And now my heart's bisect
With eighteen-carrat gold regret"
(Marblehead Johnson, 1996)

"There's no heart you can't melt within a certain little smile
And no challenge should be met without a little charm and a lot of style"
(Bluetonic, 1995)

"Any fool can see that I'm a bad example"
(Ames, 1998)

"Oh, if you'd seen with these eyes and lived with these lies"
(Vampire, 1996)

"Baby's talking, it's what she does best/I'll just sit and agree
Firing insults glide out on her breath/Mostly about me
She says "Can't you look past the mirror sometimes? Take a look at your peers!
Stretching out all their half-assed ideas, into half-assed careers"
(Tiger Lily, 2000)

"I gained a stone cold fright
When it was put to me
Deep down, everybody you meet wants to knock your teeth out"
(Serenity Now, 2005)

"What can I say about being profound?
It's a game that we play, it goes around and around
I shall stick to the rules, but I won't suffer fools
No, I won't lose the plot, and I won't lose my cool
Can you see what I've done? Can you see what I do?
It's not really unique, but it's hopelessly cool
But these are my descisions, these are my mistakes
And I'll fall down again, if that's what it takes"
(The Fountainhead, 1996)