tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59667421342607299692024-02-19T07:22:55.412-08:00Aspirations, or something.J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-53408362189048403352012-10-26T08:31:00.000-07:002012-10-26T08:33:06.379-07:00'The Residents'So I haven't posted in a while because I've developed this terrible habit of sitting around all day and watching movies and TV boxsets and eating and doing absolutely nothing else. As much as I love this hobby, I could probably be a little more productive so I've decided to post this:<br />
<br />
As part of my English coursework we had to write a scene for a play and this is what I came up with. Annoyingly we only had a maximum of 550 words to play with but I sort of like what I managed to do. It's sort of inspired by some of the people I've met at the nursing home I volunteer at - some of the residents are such big characters and hilarious to talk to, not at all like I initially (and I imagine the majority of people) expected. It's a completely fictional exchange and the perspectives are exaggerated a little but mostly I just hope that Gwen comes across right to everybody - she's just an amazing and surly woman, and whilst I've given her more words than she actually cares to share with people, I imagine that if we could, a conversation like this would happen between us.<br />
- Enjoy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-GB">The Residents.<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Centre-stage
in a bland sitting-room in an OAP home, three aged residents [GWEN, BERYL and MAE]
sit in large armchairs angled towards each other in a crescent shape, with
blankets on their knees and newspapers and magazines on nearby side-tables.
Another resident, JACK, crouches in front of an old television downstage-left,
pressing buttons and muttering to himself. The crackle of static and blank grey
screen shows. As GWEN begins speaking, he gives up and settles in the spare
armchair next to her, wincing as he moves. Seated on the end, MAE fidgets
uncomfortably throughout the conversation, repeatedly glaring at the others. Upstage-right
a group of three other residents [JOHN, SUE and HARRY] sit around a table,
playing gin rummy. They play silently, acting in the background. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">What was his name?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Smith.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Really?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Might as well have been.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">And a heart attack, they say?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Mmh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Don’t get many of those these days, do we? Mrs
Pullan was a stroke, and so was that other woman she sat with. What was she
called, the one with the drooping eye?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Ah yes, frightful woman. Hated her. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">You never spoke to her!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Didn’t have to.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Mmh, she was rather awful. Took her meals ‘fore the
rest of us, ‘cause of her “weak stomach”. Pah! Old trout...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">I’d say good riddance if it wasn’t so un-Christian.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Yer blasted daughter’s nowhere around, do what you
like.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Well there’s a relative statement if ever I heard
one. You’re an inmate as well as I. There’s not much we <i>can</i> do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Quite. ‘Cept tally off the luckier buggers that
escape, eh!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">MAE:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Oh, do be quiet. Have a little respect for the lost,
will you? It’ll be us next.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN
[TO MAE]: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">From your mouth to God’s ears.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK
[TO GWEN]: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Or someone’s, anyway.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><i><span lang="EN-GB">[admonishing]</span></i><b><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Jack! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">NURSE
enters, pushing a tea-trolley.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">NURSE:
</span></b><i><span lang="EN-GB">[nervously]</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> Afternoon ladies. And gent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> <b>[TO MAE]</b>: They’re only joshing
you, Mae. We’re all happy we’re here. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">MAE begins
to read newspaper.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Speak for yourself. Last time I was happy was 1972,
day before my lass started talking. Blight of my nerves, that girl. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Ruddy children. Never did quite live up to all the
puff, did they?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">JACK
and GWEN guffaw. NURSE pours tea. JACK
winks at NURSE; she blushes and exits quickly. BERYL tuts.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Still, like Mae says. It’ll be our turn soon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Quite, quite. And out with a bang, I should hope,
eh Beryl?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Heart attack’s been done though, mind. Old news, as
it were. Myself, I’m more of a fader, I should think. Little nap, turning to
eternal sleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">It’s morbid, but I agree. I don’t want any drama. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">I’d expect a fair bit of weeping from you three,
mind. Even if it does interrupt the activities schedule.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><i><span lang="EN-GB">[mock-outraged]
</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">What? Miss out on group-bloody-Sudoku to cry over
you instead? Never.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">MAE:
</span></b><i><span lang="EN-GB">[acidly]</span></i><b><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Well maybe us three’ll have to do. The rate you’re going at, Gwen,
who else’ll be weeping? Not a friend in this house, I’d bet, outside us daft
ones.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">JACK
laughs.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN
[TO MAE]: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Now who’s being rude?!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Background
group erupt in cheers (<b>HARRY</b>: Gin!),
clapping HARRY on the back and dealing the cards again. MAE turns to them,
glaring.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Well, she’s right. Truth is, excepting our fine
selves, the rest ‘ere are merely room-fillers and obituary listings to us. And
us to them. What does it matter? Circle of life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">MAE drops
newspaper, exasperated.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">MAE:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Circle of life? You’re barking. There’s much more
to life than waiting to die. If you don’t like it, suit yourself. Just don’t
bring me down with you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">So you reckon you’re still on top? You’ll ’ave the
screamin’ girls and cryin’ doves at your funeral, then? All the guests wailin’ ’bout
your past glories?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">MAE:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">A bit less dramatic, but something reverential,
yes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Oh, you just don’t geddit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">MAE:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Get what?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Why we’re ‘ere. What we’re doin’.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">MAE:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Well, I’ve a good healthcare plan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">BERYL:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Easy, Jack...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Rubbish. We’re ‘ere ‘cause it’s easier both ways.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">MAE:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Both ways for what?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">JACK:
</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">To become what they no longer need.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Pause.
JACK and GWEN look sagely at each other, then at MAE.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-GB">GWEN:
</span></b><i><span lang="EN-GB">[solemnly]</span></i><b><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">We’re Smiths.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Lights
darken. Exeunt.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-18478186489890846132012-09-28T02:48:00.000-07:002012-10-26T08:33:52.810-07:00Spotlight: Into the Wild<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); line-height: 24px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">In short, this is a damned beautiful film.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">In detailed ramblings, the same conclusion is still reached. Because what it comes down to is that this is just a beautiful, beautiful film. Stumbling across review sites, I had found that all of the critics were confident, and yet I often find that the films I am truly mesmerised by receive quieter praise so I was a little wary. But this film really was beautiful. The idea is just so attractive to me - of dropping everything and just escaping into rough existence. Just living experience-by-experience and allowing yourself to feel everything; it's enthralling. One of my favourite scenes is probably one of the simplest - protagonist Chris sits and has a conversation with/about an apple. It is so simple but really resounded with me, making me laugh and just think 'mmmm' to myself. I found that as I watched the film, my skin was itching to get outside and hike or camp or scream or <i>something, </i>despite the pesky dribbling English rain and the fact that it was nearing </span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">11pm</span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">. That's how inspiring the film is - how stirring.</span></span><br />
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Emile Hirsch is faultless as Chris/Alex, the only thing distracting me being his strange resemblance to Leonardo DiCaprio. But that's irrelevant. Hirsch is compelling, depicting the kind of character you just want to be with, simply basking in their 'themness'. Each other character is also perfectly devised (esp. Vaughn's Wayne and Holbrook's surly Ron), showing an array of character types that Chris waltzes through, the otherwise distant influence spheres being thrown together in a beautiful display of compassion and camaraderie. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The ending, of course, is a sad one. But I think the overall beauty of the film helps to offset the sheer tragedy of it to leave some idea of peace. The part that hits hardest is of course the dedication at the end, when the truth of the story is confirmed. It's hard to imagine such a thing to happen to someone you know, no matter how beautiful and inspiring the bulk of the story is. It's harsh, but so mesmerising. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the end, it's just one of those films that leaves you thinking pleasant things for days afterwards. Some sad things, yes, but all quiet and simple calm too. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Job well done for Penn and Krakauer.</span></div>
</div>
J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-52773367419832145362012-07-15T10:08:00.000-07:002012-10-26T08:34:16.089-07:00'D of E Feet' should not be a legitimate condition.If you ask me, the Duke of Edinburgh Award is a damn strange way to show your worth to universities and employers. It all makes very little sense to me, and if I (as a participant) can't understand it, then who exactly <i>can</i>???<br />
<br />
I returned this week from my silver level expedition. What this equates to in layman's terms is three days and two nights of gahbdajbshsjba in return for part of a certificate. Obviously this sounds like a fair and sensible exchange. And in each of these three days, seven hours is to be spent hiking and completing an additional productive 'aim', all before retiring to a tent to not sleep or eat substantially in the cold and wet for the rest of the evening. And what exactly is this supposed to teach us? Survival skills? I still have none other than how to use a supermarket and to stay alive whilst spending the night in a synthetic bag. Team work? In many ways, we were mainly bonded together just by a fear of each other letting the general public know just how ugly we can look if left to the mercy of Mother Nature, and that's not going to help me get a degree.<br />
<br />
But perhaps you can tell - I'm not so outdoorsy.<br />
<br />
Well okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit. I had fun. I mean, stick four friends together in miserable rain (3 thunderstorms in 2 hours, to be exact) and it's not going to be <i>all</i> bad. If anything, you get some good 'bantz' out of it. Or more specifically, one of you is bound to do something ridiculously stupid like falling in a river, and the rest will be able to enjoy laughing at you for the rest of the time and telling anybody who'll listen that yeah, you really <i>did </i>just fall in a river. In between all that you just eat and gossip, and that's not bad either. In this way, it was a great time.<br />
<br />
But of course the sheer pain caused by freakin' heavy backpacks and too-small walking boots, getting wetter than you ever thought possible (I'm talking osmosis kind of effects here, where water was passing in and out of all clothing in equal measure) and the biting cold of sharing one sleeping bag between two people because both your stuff is all soaked also equates to a horribly miserable time.<br />
<br />
The thing is, you don't really remember the pain so well, only the amusing stories to pass on. And this is really bad, because as much as I remember screaming at the rain clouds and threatening to commit some godless sin if it didn't stop spitting at us, my brain seems to have blocked out the physical memory of how cold and generally crap it all felt - and that is <i>exactly </i>how people end up repeating such debacles, focussing only on the laughs, and not on the pain. Naturally, this only leads to further self-loathing as only you can be held accountable for committing yourself to Hell 2.0. It's such a vicious, vicious circle.<br />
<br />
For now, however, I think I am relatively safe. Two days later and I'm still trying to recover my feet enough to walk normally (or at the very least, so as not to give the impression that my bladder is constantly full) and so I am quite firmly sticking to the resolution that, seeing as we passed, I <i>never have to hike or camp ever again</i>. The guys in my team, as short-sighted and, well, 'guy-ish' as they are, have it in their brains that they'll manage gold level next year (FYI that means another day and night of pain, people) but I pride myself on my guts in refusing to go along with such a scheme. Instead, my friend and I are considering the finer side of camping. 'Glamping', if you will. This is the clever/preposterous idea that camping can be made comfortable and enjoyable by having tents with appliances and three square meals a day. In truth, sitting in my miserable scrap of polyester this past week whilst watching other campers with their bacon sandwiches and television sets in dry, heated vans has led me to believe that camping could be alright if only it were.. well, <i>better</i>. And so the likelihood of our investigating 'glamping' (that's 'glamour camping', for you uneducated ones) has increased to about 63%, a notable increase from me of the previous year, to whom camping was simply unnecessary if it meant pitching a tent any further outside than your back garden. Of course, I also have camping at Reading Festival to deal with in a couple of weeks, but really, I'm pretty sure the deal is that you sleep in a nice patch of mud anyways, so no problems there.<br />
<br />
Basically, the conclusion here is that nature is not quite as scary I had thought; but it is damn miserable at times. Credit here goes to Prince Philip in some measure (that's the Duke, halfwits) and The Other Phil, our assessor and the man fated with the ability to either pass or fail us. But let's be real honest here: if we'd failed, you would not have been able to get me back out there.<br />
<br />
Just call me nature girl.<br />
<br />
Actually, don't.J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-10649036393379233762012-06-23T09:23:00.001-07:002012-09-02T12:28:39.187-07:00There Is No Reason For This Post WhatsoeverBeen feeling a lack of productivity lately. Seems like the minute I'm ready to get on with the myriad of things I ought to do, a bunch of far better alternatives present themselves. Why then, I ask, do they not exist on days when there is nothing pressing to do and thus <i>nothing is done at all??</i><br />
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It's a little bit twisted, really.<br />
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But then I realised that in some ways, it's alright. Such as, I like making lists, and I'm disappointingly good at it. Plus, I can spend approximately half a day doing so, creating the illusion of being an productive member of the human race whilst actually doing nothing of the sort. Brilliant, isn't it? No, actually.<br />
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Contemplating the ever-increasing work list for this summer, I also realised that in many ways I'm over-dramatic and silly. I automatically add stuff to the list that doesn't <i>need</i> to be done; they're just things that rotate in the recesses of my brain, as potential tasks that aren't essential, but <i>could</i> be done if I were so inclined. Truth is, I never am inclined, but those recesses need to be doing something, I suppose. Also, I found myself transposing the same list in various different forms across various pieces of paper, so that my desk is now strewn with six different nagging possibilities. Not so encouraging, really.<br />
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But then I thought about the list. About 67% of it (approximate, unsurprisingly) is made up of books which I need to read before college begins again in September (8 in total). I've spent the last two weeks whining to anyone who has been stupid enough to listen about this 'ridiculous' and 'unreasonable' amount of work that I 'don't want to do'. Which is insanity, really, considering I had already created a list of 12 books I had been planning on reading this summer, just for fun. So what makes the difference between 8 eughhghhhhhsss and 12 yeeeeeeeeahs? Probably the fact that the latter were decided by me and the former rather thrust upon me by the academic Powers that Be. It seems I don't enjoy doing something that I enjoy if I'm told to do it; but getting there on my own is completely fine. Yeah, it's screwy. It's screwy and I don't appreciate my hypocrisy. Yet still, here I am complaining about it instead of just sitting down and reading the damn dictated things. <i>Why the injustice, brain?</i><br />
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Basically, I don't know. This kind of pointless hypocrisy seems to be a recurring character trait that I ought to see to. The whole mindset of 'old dogs, new tricks' things has always bugged me, of course. But chances of motivation are still slim. So what to do there?<br />
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It's a Saturday here, and since I woke up annoyingly early this morning, I have had approximately 50 minutes of productivity, and then spent the following 8 hours of time in shifting my sitting-position to incorporate the new snack acquired and comfiest positioning of my laptop. It's senseless, but the grip is just so stroooooooooooooooonnggggggg. And if it hasn't occurred to you until now - yes, I am quite useless. A Hopeless Case, if you will.<br />
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And frankly, this post is losing steam.<br />
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Basically, in an attempt to become enlivened with passion and zeal for life or whatever, I was hoppin' all over the internet reading things and reading about people and shizz. I came across a load of crap that just fuelled my vegetation, but then I also came across these two photographers who do some amazing things and they're young too, which I like. It's kind of like, well if they've done all this and achieved stuff by 22 years, then what the hell am I doing? Answer = I'm doing nothing. Or rather, I've started some things, but that's it. So I managed to read another page of my book, but then I spent another hour looking at all their photos. Yeah. THANKS, GUYS. Anyways, the fact that I managed to write all these words and things makes me feel a little better. It's superficial, but whatever. And I guess I've got better hopes for tomorrow. Or delusions, go for synonyms..<br />
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Conclusions? If Saturdays were made for productivity, I wouldn't be invited. Score.<br />
<br />J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-536458858979096542012-06-10T13:55:00.000-07:002012-06-10T05:56:05.220-07:00Biffy, Biffy, Biffy, Choke, Biffy, Biffy, Biffy...I woke up this morning with a grey dent in my right foot, black ink dissipating deep into my left-hand skin and very little voice. For many teenagers across the country, perhaps this is not so unusual after a Friday night out, but for one whose nights out largely consist of nights spent no further than my living room, I found it a little shocking. And very, very funny.<br />
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You see, last night I saw Biffy Clyro play their festival warm-up show in Swindon, and to describe it with justice I can really only apply teenage non-words. It was mental. Freakin' insane. Utter madness. And I loved it. I guess you could say I had a few apprehensions; a year and a half ago I saw them play Wembley, and so you might see why next seeing them at a sports centre could feel like a step back. Of all the places in the UK they could have chosen, I simply cannot understand why Swindon was selected. That being said, I'm stupidly glad that they did.<br />
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Some people in the crowd seemed to be of a similar mindset, as they contemplated the size of venue and acoustics etc. as we waited for the support band; but frankly, as soon as Biffy came out it just did not matter. They're the kind of band that could play in your bathroom and they'd still be perfect. And so they were.<br />
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Their set was longish (21 songs, none of this 15-and-out rubbish) and included some new material which, obviously, was brilliant. They played four new ones (<i>Modern Magic Formula, Sounds Like Balloons, The Joke's On Us </i>and <i>Victory Over The Sun</i>) and the regular favourites (<i>The Captain</i>, <i>Who's Got A Match?</i>, <i>Folding Stars</i>...), whilst still covering material from all four albums, something most bands don't bother with any more. The only significant omission was <i>57</i>, which the crowd chanted for throughout, but after a set like that you can't really complain. Frankly, there's very little to say against them, except maybe ask why they used the forest image as a backdrop? But really, it looked so cool that no one actually cares.<br />
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Pure Love playing support were similarly amazing. Frank Carter's new project is something he's obviously really crazy for, as he explained to us before wading into the crowd to sing two songs in thick circles. They didn't really need to 'warm us up' though; it was impossible not to be psyched that evening.<br />
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And that's kind of it. Sadly I won't be seeing Biffy play any festivals this summer, having tickets for Reading and not RockNess, Download or Isle of Wight. Thing is, they leave you on such a high that I think I'll be able to cope for a few weeks yet anyway, before lapsing into despair and wishing I had had tickets for all three. But we'll burn that bridge when we get there.J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-52840243904634493362012-05-27T05:23:00.000-07:002012-05-27T05:23:05.103-07:00Proof of the Importance of Proofing.Again I lapse into a shoddy regime of largely ignoring the blogosphere, and for that I am sorry. I simply haven't written much lately, and this is largely due to my inherent laziness, for which a million apologies would scarcely cover (or alter my nature). Nonetheless I feel I have a little more solid reason. That of a self-inflicted embarrassment.<br />
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You may have read my post from January entitled 'A Free Scotland', one of my first attempts at a political piece, and one that I was not entirely unhappy with. It may demonstrate much of my ignorance, but is also a clear attempt at relieving some of the ignorance, an effort that should only be encouraged. In truth I wrote the piece in conjunction with my Journalism class at college, and was satisfied enough to offer it to an internet-based student-supplied magazine entitled 'Loud!'. They accept work from students across the UK, and I was more than a little bit pleased to hear that my article would run in the March edition.<br />
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Imagine my embarrassment, then, upon finding my piece in the published March issue only to find that I had made a myriad typing errors - little punctuations discrepancies, mostly - the very sort that I hate to read in other magazines, and lead me to rant against the incapabilities of the proofing team. Yet most annoyingly, I had made the largest error in misspelling the name of the principle subject, Alexander Salmond. It was terrible, and so I showed it to no one, despite happily telling friends previously that a piece of my work would be published (first time writers pride, as you do). Initially I planned to keep quiet about it. Whether I had believed my work would be proof-read by the editor of Loud! before printing is irrelevant, because really it all came down to me, and I realised this quite plainly. So after a while of wallowing in self-pity and believing my publishing career to be over, reduced to nothing but a one-time example of incompetency, I decided to get over it. I re-edited the piece, allowed it to be put forward as an assignment for my Journalism course, and republished it here on my blog. It is now more accurate, but still causes me a little embarrassment when I look over it from time to time. But really all this contributes to a greater message, one I had better get my lazy self to listen to more frequently; that of the importance of proofreading.<br />
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It's a simple concept, and I've done it for all other pieces of work in my 12 years of education thus far, which is why it was so surprising to me that I had made so many errors on that piece of writing. But at least it served to remind me that you cannot rely on others to ensure your writing is solidly put together, and talks sense - only you should be accountable, so I shall just own up to this.<br />
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Thus I re-emerge into blogging, hopefully with less shameful results. As the exam season finally declines, I hope to adhere to a more frequent writing regime over the summer. This may not happen, but I should at least promise that any pieces published will <i>not</i> refer to Scotland's First Minister Alexander 'Salmon'. I'm over that, capisce?J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-16314850039094870012012-02-08T13:23:00.000-08:002012-02-08T13:23:27.169-08:00An Abstract Substance Addiction.I think that perhaps I have an addiction. On Monday and Tuesday of last week (30th and 31st Jan) I went to the concerts of All Time Low and Panic! At The Disco and now, seven days later, I'm experiencing that lousy come-down realisation that life is pretty much rubbish away from the rush of all that.<br />
<br />
It was the fourth time I'd seen All Time Low, but this hardly dampened the euphoria. They create a stupidly addictive sense of enjoyment that is quite beyond most bands' capabilities, and you can feel it in the energy of every single audience member (not a sappy comment - the truth). The O2 Academy in Bristol is not giant, but that didn't matter to the masses of people crushing together in a half-jump-half-squeeze dancing combination. The only thing they were focussed on was the band up on the stage, systematically switching between songs, innuendos and calls for more dancing. It's an electric feeling that means I don't care how many times I see them. It'll probably go on for ever.<br />
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That being said, Panic! At The Disco prompt a different kind of psychosis. It was my second time seeing them play live and you could tell from the offset that the crowd were much more serious about these guys. That's not to say that ATL's crowd weren't as serious in their admiration, or to say that Panic! request a serious audience. It was just a different level of respect, more akin to worship than the new-best-bud atmosphere ATL tend to evoke. The setlist was much longer than the standard, at 20 songs including two covers, but the evening went by in a flash. And by this I'm not even referring to the stripping of lead singer Brendon Urie doing the encore. You could say it's because the crowd asked, but I'm pretty sure it has become Urie's signature goodbye-gift to his fans, and I won't pretend it isn't crazily appreciated. The banter between songs is personal but entertaining, from (basically serious) jokes about the songs and stories of Urie's mother, Panic! present everything with insane addictive energy. It was because of this that after I first saw them in concert back in May 2011, I was subject to three whole months of unending obsession where I couldn't go 30 minutes without listening to one of their songs or checking their twitter feed/website homepage etc. etc. This time, I forced myself (for health reasons) to be cautious, so the subsequent fever has been mild enough to cope with. That being said, I can't really fully express how much I like their music and the atmosphere they so easily create, and how affecting it is to me and thousands of other fans. I guess it's just something you have to experience for yourself.<br />
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One question to ponder over, however, is whether Dallon Weekes and Ian Crawford, the guitar and bass players who have been touring with Panic! since the start of last year's tour, will become permanent members of the band? They certainly fit in with Brendon and Spencer as if it was always these four guys, and not Ryan Ross and Jon Walker in the original outfit. Either way, it looks like it's set like this for a while, and I'm certainly cool with it.J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-63712639881723299322012-01-25T13:03:00.003-08:002012-03-06T10:56:56.085-08:00A 'Free' Scotland?<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Sitting down to Burns Night dinner this week marked a sort of turning point for me; it seemed as if all the things swirling around at the moment about Scottish independence came to a head, as if the relevance finally hit. You could blame this on my languid attitude towards keeping current affairs current – I frequently bring up ‘breaking news’ in conversations with my friends three days after it actually ‘broke’ – or you could see it as a realistic representation of the way a lot of people my age view the importance of current affairs. As a general rule, unless it is forced in our faces, there’s a good chance a lot of us will have no clue whatsoever (but don’t condemn all young people – plenty <i>do</i> keep up to date, I’m just generalising a large portion of us). So it should make sense that it would come as such a surprise to me that the topic of Scottish independence would surface three times in one day, and at least twice more over the succeeding week. This is topical; relevant. And a lot of people seem to have opinions about it. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of confusion over what it’s all really about.</span><br />
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Putting it simply, the Scottish National Party (SNP) are aiming for a referendum to vote for independence in late 2014. They want Scotland to be a separate sovereign state, splitting from the United Kingdom. The SNP first rose to prominence in the late 1960s when the decolonisation of the British Empire gave cause to growing assent that imperialism, one of the key attributes to a ‘united kingdom’, was being undermined. Now the issue is at hand again, and since 2007 the SNP have made several attempts to submit a referendum but with resistance from many other parties. Now there are two sides looking at what to do – and I think it’s important that we devise some opinions pretty quickly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">In support of independence, SNP leader Alexander Salmond calls it the most important decision for Scotland in 300 years. He says, “Our nation is blessed with national resources, bright people and a strong society... I believe that if we connect the wealth of our land to the wellbeing of our people, we can create a better country... We shouldn’t have a constitution that restrains us, but one which frees us to build a better society.” Many people are supporting this idea, the basic ideology for the SNP, believing it will help the country to grow, benefiting all citizens. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">On the other hand, there’s also a lot of opposition to the independence movement. Some people are writing it off as a brief flair of nationalism; but with the referendum now as a concrete idea, it is clearly no longer a trivial desire for a lot of people. The Calman Commission, established back in 2007 between the Labour, Conservative and Liberal Democrat parties to ‘review the devolution’ is an example of previous political opposition. Presently however, opposition from the public seems to come predominantly in the form of worries about the effect independence would have on the economy and the amount of debt assumed in the split. Not to mention the referendum also costing £10 million. With the recent recessions causing the economy to be at the forefront of everyone’s minds, regardless of their level of knowledge for economics, people are worried about what the economy would be like after a split – for both Scotland and the rest of the UK.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">There are also a lot of issues yet to resolve. For example, what would the decision about the EU be? Would the Euro be adopted? Would a separate military be established? There is a lot to decide. It probably doesn’t help that a lot of rumours and ill-informed guesses are also cropping up and causing much confusion. Just last week I heard someone earnestly declare that if Scotland did gain independence then I would, in fact, be deported and have to immigrate in order to continue studying here. Hmm. Thankfully, this was a sentiment based on nothing but ignorance and there are no plans for a closed border.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">Either way, recent polls show that 70-75% of people are calling for a referendum, whether in support of independence or the union. Whilst this may cause worry on both sides about the outcome, at least we can agree that people are getting involved – something that modern politics has been calling for. With Salmon suggesting that 16 and 17 year olds should be allowed to vote on Scottish independence, it certainly seems like this is a topic that young people <i>should</i> be getting engrossed in. I am a firm believer in getting the younger generations interested – after all, we are the future – so I wholeheartedly believe that this is something worth getting fired up for. But I am still just one vote amongst many; we all ought to have an opinion, whether for change or for constancy. Whichever outcome we reach, we will all feel the impact. So why not get involved?<o:p></o:p></span></div>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-87970806109038331272012-01-18T12:18:00.000-08:002012-02-02T04:04:56.161-08:00'Whack? Man, That's Lame...'<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As an English Language student, I know more about the complexities of crafting words than I actually care to know. I know when a word is a post-modifying adjective or a complement, or an adverb is posing as an adverbial just for kicks, or when all of the above actually want to be defined as an adjectival phrase so as to make life that little bit harder. I spent a week studying the different types of pronoun (singular, possessive, 3<sup>rd</sup> person, yadda yadda yadda) and the moods of different sentence types and really, there’s only one sensible conclusion to draw: it’s all irrelevant.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As a ‘young person’, I seem to use more made-up words than I do Standard English anyway, and that makes more sense to me. It’s not a new idea so don’t credit me, but English <i>is</i> evolving - and at a pace that confounds all of us. It always has done; it’s the natural progression. If it didn’t then we wouldn’t have any language at all – how do you think it all ever started? Words simply don’t always mean the same thing anymore. To my age group, ‘whore’ or ‘ho’ is an acceptable term for a friend, male or female (although many older people see it as a kick in the teeth for feminism) and ‘gay’ hardly ever refers to homosexuality. Nine times out of ten the person saying it has no issue with homosexuality, although older generations think we’re being inexcusably offensive. We just don’t see these words in that way. A standard conversation with any one of my friends nowadays will inevitably involve the words ‘filth’, ‘beef’ and ‘gwanin’’, and none of these words will be used in its usual capacity. ‘Filth’ is a greeting, or a murmur of agreement. ‘Beef’ is a bad situation (often used in verb form, ‘to beef’, when you are getting angry with someone or starting some trouble) and ‘gwanin’’... Well, that’s a made-up term that I’m not even sure makes sense to <i>us</i>. The effect of this new language is surely pretty standard-textbook to anthropologists, psychologists and the like; it separates us from the ‘adults’ and the others in our peer group that we have no desire to communicate with. It creates a group identity, improving social cohesion (as they say). And it’s more than a little bit fun. It’s a bit like 40-year-olds looking back at the time they claimed everything was ‘to the max’ or the best put-down they could muster was ‘face!’, or even as I look back to when I was seven and tacked the word ‘not’ onto the end of every sentence to be cool. Not. It’s not a surprise to anyone, yet there are always people moaning - <i>“Speak properly! Pronounce your T’s!”</i> I just think it’s nice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Slang, or <i>colloquialism</i> to be precise, is a natural convention of human interaction and also, in my opinion, quite a good indicator of societal progression. After all, not everything that I say to my friends is trivial, amassing to a general waste of oxygen. Young people talk about topical events, too. The conversations just sound a little different, key politicians being referred to as ‘this-or-that douchebag’ and the general state of the world being reduced to ‘just a bit shite, really’. The level of slang that pertains to my group seems to increase when there are more issues present in our lives than when we are relatively stress-free. Exam season was an explosion of synonyms for ‘bad’ (filthy, grosty, grubby, rancidity) whilst the long summer was ‘tasty’ or ‘sick’ (resurgence thanks to The Hangover films) and spent with my ‘homies and sistas’. We’re hardly ‘street’ so I guess we use this language ironically, but it’s still amusing when relating stories to outsiders and having to clarify on the sentence, ‘he was beefin’ up deep, give me some correlation sista’. For the inexperienced in cult-youth language, there’s always Urban Dictionary, a site that I often have to run to in order to suss out teenage rants (and I <i>still</i> don’t know what ‘ratting’ means these days) and that really is a blessing. It also shows how determined we are to maintain this part of our culture. There isn’t a name for our generation yet – there’s no more Teddy Boys or Mods – but maybe in twenty years or so anthropologists will be able to suss out a term to describe our incredibly diverse group. Even if it’s ‘that anomaly in our educated society’. That’ll be one for the Dictionary.</span></div>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-70001852302933506452012-01-10T05:41:00.000-08:002012-01-10T11:02:27.042-08:00Spotlight: Great Expectations<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB">The new BBC version of<i> Great Expectations</i> deserves to be blogged about, namely because I find it strangely mesmerising. Released over the Christmas period (Dec 2011), the three-part retelling is written by Sarah Phelps and stars Douglas Booth, Ray Winstone, Gillian Anderson and Vanessa Kirby.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">My reading of the book two years ago was hardly the prophetic enlightenment it perhaps should have been. I had the best intentions – I thoroughly wanted to enjoy it and find in Dickens’ words the deep meaning that so many have over the past century-and-a-bit, although I must admit that my disjointed reading habits led to a rather mismatched understanding of the novel. As a result, I would never have expected for this version to appeal to me so much. The sumptuous styling of the locations (the BBC themselves aptly stating it as lavish) greatly align with the costumes, making it a picture-perfect period drama, and yet these do not detract from the performances of the actors themselves. Booth seems to have been created purely for the part of Pip and I find his performance captivating. He’s gotten a lot of stick for being ‘too pretty’ or ‘too pouty’ to play the rough orphan Pip, but I hardly see how this is relevant to his acting abilities. He doesn’t ride on his looks; it’s part and parcel. Vanessa Kirby as Stella, whilst not much like how I envisaged her, is frightfully cruel and stony, much as she should be. The only casting peeves I have are those of Miss Havisham and Joe Gargery (played by Gillian Anderson and Shaun Dooley). The Havisham of my imagination is far older and bitterer than Anderson’s, who, at 43 years old is the youngest Havisham yet, and portrays her with a strange other-worldly presence. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t quite click for me. Dooley as Joe is no real issue, except for the blankness he uses as the void for education; I’d always pictured Joe as inquisitive, and if not intelligent, then at least quick-minded, witty through Dickens’ sharp words. Ray Winstone’s Magwitch is an interesting interpretation to say the least, but I do feel a slight reserve. Winstone is known for his brute image, but I didn’t really feel that from him. But maybe that’s just a personal issue with big angry bald guys.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB">But then I think that’s the danger with any literature adaptation, particularly with a beacon testament such as <i>Great Expectations</i> – everyone has a different picture in their mind that they feel is the right one. In my opinion, Phelps has done a good job, fixing a variety of ideas into a smooth adaptation that I want to watch again. But that is solely my opinion, and everyone else will feel differently. For example, in a review for the Guardian, <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/jan/06/charles-dickens-bbc-howard-jacobson"><span style="text-decoration: none;">Howard Jacobson</span></a> said that the BBC had “eviscerated Dickens” and that it would have “made Dickens snort”. You or I may find this too severe, or you may take the same view; it’s just a further example of how something as sacred as this will always induce win-lose situations. Even so, 6.6 million viewers is not bad going. Interestingly, whilst <i>Great Expectations</i> is my father’s favourite novel in existence, this interpretation reportedly did nothing for him. He favours one of the older versions, one that I found difficult to remain interested in. This is odd, as usually our tastes are very much in synchronisation. Nevertheless, the oddity hasn’t dispelled my own appreciation for it and so I look forward to the DVD release with much eager anticipation.</span></div><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">Favourite line: "Do not think, Pip. It never leads to anywhere edifying." - Mr Jaggers, to Pip.</div>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-19755271709026500392012-01-04T13:17:00.000-08:002012-01-04T13:17:24.945-08:00Twi-Hards. Well, actually...<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I’m having a crisis of faith.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB">I first watched <i>Twilight</i> when it came out in cinemas in December 2008 and experienced much of the now stereotypical teenage craze with the series, instantly buying and devouring the books. Since then, I’ve watched the subsequent films that make up the <i>Twilight Saga</i> (<i>New Moon,</i> <i>Eclipse </i>and <i>Breaking Dawn: Part 1) </i>and I am now just pages away from finishing my rereading of the series. I spent so much of the last two weeks reading these books that I’ve reached that curious stage where I feel like I know these characters so well - am so attuned to them, even - that it surprises me to realise they are just a work of fiction. I sit through conversations thinking ‘Bella said something like that’, before catching myself and cringing at my own stupidity.<i> They are not real.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB">It is a result of this that I stuck in the <i>Twilight Saga: Eclipse</i> DVD hoping for a re-immersion into my Other Reality. You can therefore imagine my disappointment when I realise that my whole fascination wasn’t with an amazing, innovative, influential film-series after all. Because the movies aren’t great. If I focus on the films, I can be successfully sucked in enough to the drama and sappy stuff to appreciate it for simply being a teen-romance film. But having it on in the background, my sparse attention picking up disjointed moments only, I realise the disjointedness of the movie itself. It is just so awkward. It has a nice lyrical score and incorporates many contemporary artists that the audience already like. It uses picturesque locations and lots of pathetic fallacy. The actors are attractive. And it uses some of the lines from the books. But that’s kind of it for my positive feelings. After that, you’re just left with conversations that lack fluency and questionable facial expressions. The writing isn’t bad; the lines are dramatic enough to evoke some gasps, and the embedded acknowledgement of the whole Team Edward-Team Jacob fiasco (“Let’s face it, I am hotter than you.” Subtle...) is even sort of amusing. But the fact that every piece of dialogue is presented in the same register, with not a single voice deferring from a seemingly predetermined limited selection of notes (think B flat to C sharp on a piano) gets me cringing into my seat. I’m almost glad when Bella starts to scream, because it makes for a different sound. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB">The thing that makes it all so mind-boggling is that they aren’t bad actors. I’ve seen Robert Pattinson, Kristin Stewart and Taylor Lautner in other films separately, and it’s never been as bad as this. I get that the book – and films – have an underlying theme of sexual tension, one that is arguably the founding structure of the teen-romance genre, but this just takes the biscuit. You’re angry? Yell. Scream, even. Just quit the monotone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB">Despite the battle for sense that those two hours left me in, I do remember why I bothered. I love the books. And I really do like these characters. I like the way their minds think and the ways that they speak. I like how they’re just a little bit better than ‘regular people’ and the frequent references made to other texts that I’m partial to (<i>Wuthering Heights</i> and <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, for example). So I think I might just persevere. I find it interesting to see how my perspective has changed. The first time I read the books, I loathed <i>New Moon</i> for Bella's constant whining and Edward's poor decision-making. Yet rereading them now, I'm much more drawn to it. I like how Stephanie Meyer has presented Bella, aches and all, and I feel more sympathy for her, if not empathy. Perhaps a sign of new emotional maturity, perhaps not. Either way, it's a complete 180'.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span lang="EN-GB">So I’ll reread the books –again and again and again – and ignore the instinct to close my eyes during the films because I do support the series. It has become a worldwide phenomenon for a reason, so it would be quite insensible to ignore it. Arrogant, even. Because I can tell you, I <i>did</i> walk out of the cinema after seeing <i>Breaking Dawn </i>and feel satisfied. It was fine, no real pain inflicted. Just a low-lying mushy feeling, which I suppose is the film’s aim after all. This feeling might not last, and might not ever resurface if I watch the film again with the absence of the giant cinema screen and dark, silent room, but you never know - I might just pull a 180' with this, too. Time will tell, and all the rest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB">BOOKS: 5/5 – mind-blowing.<br />
FILMS: 3/5 – mind feels slightly melted.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-36744177360860223552011-11-29T12:28:00.000-08:002011-12-05T10:48:13.183-08:00Ben Marwood Talks Things.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Damn, another blog? Perhaps this regular posting thing is getting old. I'll chill it after this one.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, I had the good fortune of chatting with Mr. Ben Marwood over the interwebs recently in conjunction with a journalism assignment, and it was a little bit cool. He's a little bit cool. Figured I'd post it up, for kicks and whatnot. On Word it had a picture and interesting use of fonts, but blogspot let me down. But that's just detracting from the Big Picture. Read it, or something:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ben Marwood is a far too little-known musician found regularly in Reading – or in an assortment of bars across the UK where he performs and drinks with his righteous supporters. After a smattering of EPs, Marwood released his debut album 'Outside There's A Curse' earlier this year as recorded entirely in his bedroom, despite being signed with Xtra Mile Records. Now how’s that for artistic licence? Currently in the middle of his ‘Something For The Weekends’ tour, he chivalrously took a moment out to answer some questions.</span></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I was first introduced to your music by a friend who saw you at a Frank Turner gig in Bath earlier this year. I'd say your music shares that Angry-British-Man sound, but of course it's what appeals to me. Would you say Frank is someone who has influenced your music, or are you just inherently similar in outlook?</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">[Laughs] Angry-British-man is a highly under-acknowledged genre. I'd say it's inevitable that Frank has influenced my sound - he must have, and rightly so because he's a great songwriter and a good friend. The Frank Turner/Franz Nicolay tour in May was just superb - people don't realise how much it takes to have a tour run smoothly, and Frank's team were pretty flawless in their running of the shows, especially tour manager Graham Kay. To have that opportunity is something I will never forget, especially because for a while it looked like it would never happen. Touring with people you admire and get on well with is like taking a road trip with friends doing something that you like. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To talk about your own music - what sort of thought process goes into your lyric writing?</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I </span>really wish I could divulge the secret formula that I use to write all my lyrics, but in truth I don't really know how these songs end up getting written, they just tend to fall into place naturally over time. What I can definitely say though is that nine times out of ten I'll start with the music, then the melody, so by the time it comes to finalising lyrics the tempo and the meter and whatever else is already taken care of. Then it's just a case of crafting the words to try and make a point. Or I could just drop more references to 'Ghost' [the movie].</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such as in 'JJ Abrams'... is there an underlying message of your love for the movie or is that my misreading the connections? Subconscious desires being powerful and all...</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not a gigantic fan of that movie, but it was a very important one in the early 1990s and I'm fascinated with the pairing of Whoopi Goldberg and Patrick Swayze. Those scenes where Swayze is beating people up as a ghost is comedy gold.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There must be some real pressures of touring at the same time as doing nine-to-five work [Marwood also has a 'typical' job in Reading]. Is this something you find difficult?</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">In </span><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB">its own special way, it is a bit difficult. Not a 'working two jobs to stay above the poverty line and feed your children' kind of difficult, nor a rocket science type of difficult, but certainly this approach has its moments where it would be appealing to down tools and go off in a sulk. At the moment I'm doing shows mostly over the weekend, which is good because it doesn't require time off work, but bad because it means I don't see much of my family, friends or favourite drinking establishments. Still, I'm nearly done with the latest tour, and I'm nearly done with the year; and I'm sure as soon as I'm done with this I'll be planning the next tour or next step, so it can't be </span></span><i><span lang="EN-GB">too </span></i><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB">difficult or I'd stop.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">You’ve had some technical troubles with your guitar over the last few shows – <i>not</i> a dig, I promise. But has there ever been some kind of momentous disaster during a show? </span></b></div><span class="ecxapple-style-span"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Yes, my guitar is a bit of a nightmare! It's a lovely Art & Lutherie, but they just make guitars for beginners and I've pushed it beyond its means far too many times. Most of my mid-show monumental disasters do involve things not working, like PAs, guitars and lights and so on, but the most bizarre thing ever was when I was playing with a band, and I mounted a monitor for an end-of-set guitar solo freak-out... and the monitor wasn't secured to anything so it tipped back and I flew offstage directly onto my bum. Thankfully this was not captured on camera. I'm still living with the physical effects and I expect I will forever, but at least it's a good story to tell in interviews, right?</span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have to say, I love your cover of ‘District Sleeps Alone Tonight’. I definitely prefer it to the Postal Service (no discredit to them) and I think it rivals Frank’s version (on-going debate with my friend here). I think it’s great when someone completely revamps a song with a cover, and there’s people saying ‘I love this guy’s song – oh wait it’s actually really old?’ But is there some song that you’d want to cover but feel like it’s this mammoth sacred piece that you’ll only ever reveal to your showerhead..?</span></b></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh gosh, I'm sure there are loads of songs I'd love to cover but don't think I could do it justice. I'd love to cover Elliott Smith's 'Angeles' but I can't hold a candle to it. I do play it when I'm alone sometimes, but rarely in front of anyone! There are also some Johnny Flynn songs I'd love to cover but he has such a great blues tone I'm not sure what I could do to improve upon it. But I suppose that's the cover debate encapsulated in two examples - I could cover an Elliott Smith song (and do) without having to change it too much because what I do is not a million miles removed from what he did, but if I was to cover a Johnny Flynn song I'd have to change it considerably because of his voice, and the way he arranges songs. Ditto with the Postal Service. I'd have to make that my own because I couldn't do an accurate tribute! I'm not sure if the covers debate is limited to just 'tribute vs. originality' but I'm not going to move from my spot on the fence.</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>You are obviously a fan of social media [being a frequent tweeter (Twitterer?) and blogger], but what's your stand in the Great Debate: do you reckon this is bad for music with all the illegal downloads etc. yadda yadda yadda, or is it just a better way of getting more people to hear you?</b></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let's start with social media. Social media is important. I'm not quite sure how it came about, and I have no idea where it's headed, but it's the most useful tool for keeping in touch with people. It supersedes, or at least brilliantly complements, the likes of internet mailing lists and such, and I can't see how social media could be bad for music because it makes word of mouth advertising a billion percent easier than a <span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB">life without, say, Twitter.</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"> As far as digital internet piracy goes, I've met people who have illegally downloaded my album or albums and they seem like normal people. No eye-patches or peg-legs or parrots. It's a shame because it detracts from revenue for the record labels, who in turn can't pass any money onto the artist. But even if the internet didn't ever happen, people would still just be borrowing CDs from people and copying them. The internet just made piracy more prolific, in the same way social media made spreading the word easier. In the end you have to say the internet exists: it has a good side and a bad side for music, and all you can really do is make it as hard as possible for people to exploit the bad side.</span></span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>So - Vinyl man or digitalised?</b></span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That said, I'm a digital man.I don't own anything by Apple, but I have an MP3 player and don't own a vinyl player. I'm still faithful to CDs though, even if I have run out of space to store them. They're just stacking up now...</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I guess it's a physical music history/soundtrack for your life, so I reckon it's worth the clutter. However, recently you wrote about a new record/work in progress in your blog. Is this something you can elaborate on?</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think you've summed it up pretty well already! There is new stuff in the pipeline. Things are mostly written but need finishing off, and when they're finished off they'll need properly recording and once everything is done, we'll see about releasing! I'm quite excited but at this stage I'm not going to look <i><span lang="EN-GB">too </span></i><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB">excited because any new release is a long way off at the moment and if I started getting excited now, I'll be exhausted by the time it's ready for release..! Gotta pace yourself.</span></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>And finally, out of baffled curiosity - can you tell me about Avril Lavigne's significance...?</b></span></span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB">Hah. I've been telling this story every night on tour, so yes, one more time wouldn't hurt. My </span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB">song that references her in the title [<i>‘</i></span><i><span lang="EN-GB">Tell Avril Lavigne I Never Wanted To Be Her Stupid Boyfriend Anyway’</span></i><span lang="EN-GB">] isn't actually about <i>her</i>, but it's about a short librarian who I thought I was madly in love with once. </span>It turns out I wasn't, but I did write a couple of songs: the Avril one and one from 2009 called <i>'You Can Hold On Once'</i>. Anyway, around the time I wrote this particular song, Avril Lavigne's song <i>'Girlfriend'</i> was always on the radio, and essentially it was her telling everyone how much better she was than everyone else- kinda like the Pussycat Dolls' <i>'Dont Cha'</i> only much, much less sexy. In the end I was short of a title and annoyed at the constant presence of Lavigne on the radio whenever I turned it on, so I named a song to reflect my annoyance. Really that's it. Not a single lyric in the song is about her. Avril's sadly divorced since she released <i>'Girlfriend'</i> though, so maybe her other half found out she'd been telling the whole damn world that they should dump their partners in favour of her. That's pretty poor form, Avril.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">QUICKFIRE-ISH WONDERMENTS:</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">* Best band you've ever seen live?</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jetplane Landing, Future of the Left or Frank Turner. I can't decide. All for different reasons, but all truly great.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">* Best get-psyched song?</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'Surf Wax America' by Weezer would be right up there, as would 'Stereo' by Pavement. I recommend both of these songs, though they are pretty old now. But so am I! So that's my excuse.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">* Bizarre fan things that have happened? Because I've been to gigs where people have mooned that band to show support...?</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">None of my fans have done this, I can report.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>* If you could trade places with any other person for a week (living/dead/fictional etc.) who would it be?</b>Could you trade places with someone who was dead? That would be pretty boring just hanging around in a coffin all day. Oh hey, but I'd like to have been Michael Jackson for a day. That would just be crazy. Decision made!</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">* Superhero power?</span></b></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think about this a LOT. It's definitely the power to slow down time. Not completely to a stop, just very very very slow. I just think it would be handy to have as a superhero because you could do things like dodge bullets and do super-fighting. Basically you'd be like Batman.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">* Who are you listening to at the moment?</span></b></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have the new Jeff Lewis album, which is superb, and I bought the new Death Cab album lately. I was also surprised at how good the Foster the People album is. So... that.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cheers etc. goes to Ben Marwood, obviously.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now check out his album.</span></div><br />
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</span></span></div></div>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-27169579312228490032011-11-28T13:06:00.000-08:002011-11-28T13:06:13.136-08:00FRANK TURNER HARD CORE.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay, I give in. I wanted to try consistency with this blogging thing, but it's just not happening. Attempt number #183726:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frankly (maha), the problem is that He is just so <b>aknfakdd</b> on tour that I couldn't possibly put to words how amazing the show was. I've not recovered yet, and it's been 5 days of constant FT-playlist repeating (titled OBSESS, no less). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Naturally, the anticipation was such that we arrived at the venue two and half hours early in order to queue, gaining the prime first-place position excepting two girls who had shown up for the support act Against Me! instead, and have no interest in Frank Turner. Therefore they don’t really count. Thirty minutes in and there was a minor panic attack as the venue posted an ‘IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT’ on the door; two minutes of stomach-flipping until we read it to find out that Against Me! have cancelled due to illness, being replaced by Franz Nicolay. He’s an amusing bald guy so this was all very good news. The two girls then shortly dispatched and we were sat at the top of the queue with only two more hours to wait. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then we're front and centre, on the barrier, squished into the metal but a mere few feet away from Frank himself. (I don't know how far a foot actually is, but just know that you couldn't be any closer unless you were lucky enough to be one of those miserable stage security dudes). The hall was packed; the standing area solidified with human quantity and the hundreds of seats rising vertically to line the walls were filled too. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s the mark of a good musician to get the energy pulsing into the deepest depths of the room and I wager none do it like Frank.<br />
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But this is where the trouble is and the words stop. Because even though I can tell you ('you' being the nameless non-existing readers of this blog) that </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">his energy on stage is tangible, a physical thing that seems to exude from his very being, transforming him and eradicating any outsider’s doubt that what you’re really seeing is just an unshaven thirty-something jumping around with four thirty-something friends; when in fact what’s actually there is an unstoppable force of opinion, expectation and pride, it <i>still </i>doesn't really explain just how it felt. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">At the end of a miraculous 22-song setlist, Turner appeals to the crowd to join him in 'Photosynthesis'. "</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I mean f****** everyone. Not just the diehard, old school m*****-f*****s down the front, but I want the curious parties, I want the people who had nothing else to do tonight and said to themselves, 'you know what, f*** it man, let's see what this Frank Turner man's got to say for himself'; I want the</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> plus-ones, the people whose friends are really into it but they're not all that bothered; I want the b</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">oyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives; I want anyone who got in to this show on the guestlist to stop being so damn hipster for five seconds and get down to the front and sing the f*** along, OK? I want the security guards to sing along; </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want the boys, the girls, everyone...’ </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">The effect on the audience was bordering on insanit</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">y. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Because how many other musicians pause in the middle of a song to talk to every single one of their fans and tell them that they actually matter to them? It certainly got everyone singing, a powerful unison comprised of mostly off-key singers who don’t give a damn because it’s the message that matters. And that's basically what Frank's about. Well, 'basically' means nothing here. You can't simplify this guy, he truly is one of those bust-the-boundaries kind of guys, and there is absolutely no denying that that is exactly why he exists. Thank God (or the equivalent for Frank's atheism) for that.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
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</span></span></div><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-85716262366161760862011-11-08T13:05:00.000-08:002011-12-05T10:20:08.750-08:00No One Likes A Topical Bugger.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not a review, I'm breaking the pattern.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a pre-review... but not a preview.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's just 15 days until I get to see Frank Turner. Live.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Which I will then review.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe. I'm obviously not the most consistent blogger.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But 15 days until I see Him play. This is exciting.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friend went earlier this year to a show in Bath, and was close enough to feel the spit (she says this was good, and was almost reluctant to wash her face) so now we're braving our better sense and turning up to the gig hours early to queue and feel the spit again. And yes - this is braving, as the gig is in Newport.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not anti-Newportians or anything, just pretty scared of the town centre after wandering around before a gig in March this year. Then, too, we sat on a street corner for 5 hours for All Time Low and that was painful and chilly but we were buzzin' and added to the experience.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Didn't make Newport much better, though.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Either way, it's just 15 days.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hell yeah.</span>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-15438416554165929832011-10-04T15:00:00.000-07:002012-01-04T12:05:18.376-08:00Bloody Hell, Nowhere Boy.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I won't lie - the Beatles have, up until now, been just another band that I know I should like but haven't really gotten around to taking much of an interest in, unless my Dad's iPod shuffles in a forceful manner. But now, as aforementioned - bloody hell.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sam Taylor-Wood's is a name that I knew through editorial articles, her film one that I put on the list of 'seeing eventually'. Now I've Googled her in awe and am simply willing her to make the next chapter, as I haven't felt quite like this about a film in a long time. Because 'Nowhere Boy', a biopic of Lennon's early life, is a miraculous thing. Not only is it beautifully written, but everything it's made from is so heart-wrenching that you can't believe you hadn't already seen it one hundred and fifty-four million times. So you watch it to make it so. Set in the 50's, I'm a sucker for it from the off. The hair and the music and the urgency of adolescent rebellion is something that makes me ache to be more interesting. More 'Lennon'. And kudos to the wardrobe department. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From a technical view, I'd pronounce it flawless. It's got all the fancy editing and perfect balance of those sweet silent moments, the smooth cuts from his early childhood into this swirling force of emotion. And the acting is just the same. Aaron Johnson, perhaps a little awkward in 2008's 'Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging', was more than a little mesmerising. Say what you want, I don't think even Lennon kept up a Northern accent at <i>all</i> times. Johnson was powerfully commanding, his anger and emotion so affecting that I caught myself frowning and tensing as he did. The brutality of the losses themselves, of course, shocked my ignorant self but I won't pretend that it's the cruelty of Taylor-Wood creating them: the power and those awful profound silences set my mind reeling at the amazing film-making whilst the rest of me took a moment to sort myself out. I'm not a weeper - it just feels like a physical blow, and I need to remember to breathe.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But then it's not fiction. It's a captivating depiction of a gruesome childhood that produced a riveting man. And there's a real beauty in that.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"Oh dirty Maggie Mae, they have taken her away..."</span></div></div></div>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5966742134260729969.post-53117075792168034122011-06-08T12:57:00.000-07:002011-12-05T10:41:04.349-08:00Get Dirty, Do Work.<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i><b> </b> </i></span><span lang="EN-GB"><i><b>All Time Low - 'Dirty Work' Album Review</b></i></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Released- June 6<sup>th</sup> 2011</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I won’t lie: initially, I was mad. The early release of ‘I Feel Like Dancin’’ had left me with little hope for All Time Low’s upcoming album, as it appeared to so purposefully strive to appeal to the masses with its inclusion of cult-pop references of ‘Shorty’ and Ke$ha. I know that All Time Low have made their name on their sharp taste in hyper pop-rock and drinking references, but I still like to think that they’re not that mainstream. I mean, how many times have I heard someone reply to ‘All Time Low’ with ‘Oh, I love The Wanted’? So the new single preaching success from the top of Radio 1 was not something that made me tweet my pride so much as sigh at the potential loss of one of my favourite bands. Nonetheless, the creation of the single’s video being so reminiscent of the cocky antics of ‘Damned If I Do Ya’, I began to realise that All Time Low have not converted to the Other Side after all– they are still just a bunch of frequently drunk dudes who periodically crank out tunes worth dancing to. And that’s okay with me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">‘Dirty Work’ hails the typical All Time Low musical style we love to bust our speakers with, the tracks ‘Just The Way I’m Not’, ‘Time-Bomb’ and ‘Do You Want Me (Dead)?’ sparking my particular interest. The lyrics don’t aim to elicit deep philosophies, but are still clever enough to catch in your mind and mean enough to the band’s youthful following. With tales of ex-girlfriends and nights out, All Time Low hold no pretences of singing for the Older Generations, and do damn well at catering for those who simply want a band good enough to blare out the stereo for cathartic purposes. There seems to be some common ground with the lyrics in this album as lead singer and songwriter Alex Gaskarth focuses on the idea of being used and changing to suit a girl in ‘Just The Way I’m Not’, ‘Bad Enough For You’, ‘and Get Down On your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me’. This contrasts interestingly with the frat-boy concepts mostly explored in previous albums ‘Nothing Personal’ and ‘So Wrong It’s Right’, but nevertheless shows that the band is developing. Pre-release, much hype was built around the idea that the album was aiming to move away from the typical pop-sound, attempting to achieve a new mature feel; whilst any of the live shows would contradict this ‘maturity’ from the off, the overall essence of the tracks confirms that these twenty-somethings have perhaps now reached the emotional age of seventeen-and-a-half, making a change from the habitual sixteen-year-old aura. This isn’t a bad thing. It just means that under all the innuendo and ridiculous fun, the guys are also producing music that means something.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The heavy electric guitar-and-drum combo the band wield so well is present in almost every track, with ‘Under A Paper Moon’ reaching out for a different more alt-rock style than usual and ‘No Idea’ showing experimentation with the synth strings (apparently that’s cool at the moment). Habitually, All Time Low slow it down for a track - ‘A Daydream Away’ – for a bit of acoustic cute, but pick the pace back up for the rest of the album; even the acoustic version of ‘Time-Bomb’ shows a more fast-paced take on the traditional acoustic cover. All Time Low themselves have described it as the perfect summer album, “The songs are really loud and will get you to roll the windows down. It’s just a fun record all around”. Which is exactly what I have been doing this summer. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whilst ‘Dirty Work’ hit the UK iTunes chart at No. 5 on release, it sank further down over the succeeding days for the surge of generic RnB ‘chart-toppers’ to restore life back to normal. But I suppose what I’ve come to realise is that whilst bands like All Time Low can continue to churn out good albums, the likelihood of our British charts ever really accepting them is relatively low. They are clearly impassioned, imperturbable (and arguably imbecilic) guys, - hence ‘Heroes’ and the self-explaining lyrics “<span class="apple-style-span">We talk shit like it's a cross to bear” - </span>and they enjoy it. You can hear it in their music and the endless innuendos that spew out of their mouths on tour, and there is no denying the energy they have for the success they’ve worked so hard for. This album won’t change the world, but at least it’ll get a few of us with taste to stand up and yell our support.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Get dirty, do work”.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DOb6Kl9ju_GjUntZSFMu-PhCBx0JRrCxn9cXf5Wz6v9SdGrXMZBoAxgOAdiVbHvAZ1HiQBeZ1kzkzPilcGym6q9g7zqW5cZYKEWV58tFWA3fd_sdb9KS5Hps2LQtIWrbs4YM72-eQ5bD/s1600/Dirty+Work+Album+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DOb6Kl9ju_GjUntZSFMu-PhCBx0JRrCxn9cXf5Wz6v9SdGrXMZBoAxgOAdiVbHvAZ1HiQBeZ1kzkzPilcGym6q9g7zqW5cZYKEWV58tFWA3fd_sdb9KS5Hps2LQtIWrbs4YM72-eQ5bD/s320/Dirty+Work+Album+Cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div></div>J. Allanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15722388104476959139noreply@blogger.com0