Look After Yourself

It is summer and possibly today was the first, of what I imagine will be many, in which I felt genuinely bored. I have had a free house for a few days and various people have passed through the door, it has been nice. But today was a day in which I felt like not seeing people. I don’t know if this is a feeling that many people have. It is a feeling that human contact would make you retch. The complexity of navigating your way through a conversation is too draining for a day like today. So I decided to swim.

I used to swim to a very high standard, competing every weekend and dedicating well over 10 hours to the sport each week. It was a challenge to remain motivated, waking up at stupid o’clock and sustaining shoulder injuries regularly. I gave up swimming at college, the strain of A-Levels was far too much and something had to go. College does that to people, makes them give up on things they love. I wish I realised before it all finished that what I needed to do was look after myself and not just my grades. 

The swim reminded me of the beauty of concentration. My mind was focused on the stroke, how my hand was entering the water, my breathing pattern and the pace of each turn I completed. The swimming coaches I had encountered in my life seemed to still be glaring at me from poolside, expecting my technique to be spot on and ultimately going to berate me. My body was free from the confinements of dry land, there was no external pressure on me, just myself and the water. As I focused on the stroke, I realised this was another form of looking after myself. Not just body, but my mind.

There are hundreds of ways to ‘look after yourself’ and not all are going to work for you. I’ve recently been using the ‘Headspace’ app, a simple and well designed meditation tool for anyone. It isn’t too bad, friendly graphics and calming voices. However my mind struggles to slow down enough to have a blank mind, something pretty key to meditation. I can’t count my breathes when my imagination runs amuck. 

Something else, that I can recommend is talking- especially for men. For centuries the male emotional spectrum has been discouraged and limited. I know that I am three times more likely to kill myself than my girlfriend is, purely down to my gender. So to avoid becoming part of that sobering statistic, I talk. I talk all the time about what I am feeling, whether that be happy or sad. When I talk, my problems seem far smaller than what they are in the theatre of my mind. Sometimes it isn’t easy to find that one person who will listen and respect your privacy, but there is someone out there who will listen without judgement and will care.

So if you are bored this summer, look after yourself. Your body and mind are the only things you were born with and the only things you’ll die with.

99.9%, Kaytranada Review

Although 99.9% being Canadian born Kaytranda’s (real name Louis Kevin Celestin) first full length endeavour. He is in no way a newcomer to the Dance/R&B scene. He started posting on Soundcloud in the early 10s, gaining notoriety especially with his reworking of Janet Jackson’s ‘If’. In 2016, he is one of the most desirable producers around, with credits on Chance’s and Azealia Bank’s most recent efforts. On 99.9% Kaytranda pushes the groove and cool to the max for possibly the best album for this Summer. 

Kaytranada has managed to transfer the energy of the club and his live shows directly onto record with 99.9%. Songs such as ‘TRACK UNO’ and ‘ONE TOO MANY’ are explosive and meaty in production, the latter having more layers than a feud between Taylor Swift and the Kardashains. ‘VIVID DREAMS’, ‘DRIVE ME CRAZY’ and ‘LEAVE ME ALONE’ rely in part on their heavy bass- reminiscent of some Celestin’s earlier work such as ‘Holy Hole Inna Donut’, these tracks excite and are perfect for any late night drive. 99.9% isn’t necessarily a party or BBQ album as the exquisite detail of his samples and drum fills make it difficult background music. However, songs such as ‘BUS RIDE’ and ‘LITE SPOTS’ are fantastic for solitary listening in the sweltering heat. Kaytranada’s off kilter style is pleasing and undoubtably enjoyable in the sunshine.

A major crime of this album is its amount of filler. Admittedly each song has its own merit, yet many are too stagnated. ‘DESPITE THE WEATHER’ is pretty uninteresting until the final vocal sample of Sway talking about Kaytranada, a swaggering moment for the often low key producer. The strongest moment of 99.9% is ‘GLOWED UP’ featuring the impressive Anderson .Paak, his mix of interesting bars and a glowing chorus stands out right in the middle of the album. Apart from a far too glossy feature by Craig David, Kaytranada has chosen some of the coolest artists to be on his LP. Most notably, The Internet’s Syd on ‘YOU’RE THE ONE’ further proving she is one of the strongest voices in modern Neo-Soul.

It is fitting that Kaytranada has named his album 99.9%. An undoubtably brilliant body of work with some exceptional production, yet missing something that would make the music world call it one of the top LPs of the year. 9.9/10.

Massive Attack, British Summer Time

In a post-Brexit UK, people are angry. Especially in the capital in which a vast majority voted to remain in the European Union. Upon seeing Massive Attack in February I knew their live sets were politically charged to the max. Whether it be the refugee crisis or the vapidity of celebrity gossip, the Bristol trip-hoppers have a political voice that cannot be quenched. 

The music at British Summer Time was fantastic during the day. Support sets by Ghostpoet, Shura and Warpaint stood out as haunting and professional- aware that people didn’t pay for them so stuck to the blindingly good hits. Patti Smith disappointed with bland calls to arms for “fuck the system and big corporations”, the irony of there being a huge Barclaycard logo behind was lost to the punk veteran. Although impossible to escape big brand marketing and £8 pulled pork burgers, the festival is certainly all about the music and especially the headliners Massive Attack.

Opening with a chilling reproduction of ‘United Snakes’ I was silenced. The visible band (I’m certain many more were behind the scenes) were so professional and sombre, it was like watching an orchestra. To an extent, the entire show was formal. With such a wild stage design with a huge LED panel with complex and shocking imagery it is difficult to stray from what is rehearsed. Some moments lacked emotion, with songs such as ‘Inertia Creeps’ leaving me wanting to curl up and cry at the prospect of Article 50. My Brexit anxiety hit its peak at ‘Eurochild’, last performed in 1998, Robert Del Naja begged us not to give into “the bigots and the racism” before flooding the stage with an EU blue.

Massive Attack are known for their collaborators, this being one of their biggest shows of the year, the band pulled out all the stops. Young Fathers (whom Massive Attack called “future headliners”) launched onto stage to perform four songs; ‘Voodoo Blood’, ‘Old Rock n Roll’ ‘Shame’ and ‘He Needs Me’. Their passionate performance style injected life into Massive Attack’s storming set but helped upkeep the fear and anxiety. A surprise for many was the guest spot of contemporary Tricky as the band had shared a mutual disharmony with him for many years. In comparison to the professionalism of 3D and Del Naja, Tricky was a bull in a china shop and difficult to love or get into due to his low pulled cap. A single song and then off, the beef is yet to be quashed. The standout guest was the inimitable Horace Andy (leg broken from a motorcycle accident) who sang Angel as the stage shone a bright white, the crowds were silent and arms just raised. 

The encore, pre tempted by an honest display of Syrian refugees- highlighting our own privilege, was certainly the standout of the night. As a string section entered slowly it was clear that Unfinished Symphony would be played. The audience, hearing one of the most iconic 90s songs, was silently joyful. A few hugs and a few smiles at strangers, but nothing more. Perhaps Massive Attack are not curing, but their burgeoning live presence certainly serves as catharsis. 

Drug Store Romeos, Interview

The state of the UK is unwell, a gap of young and old has appeared. Even in the local Morrisons that Drug Store Romeos’ guitarist Charlie Henderson works at part time “the cashiers hate old people, they’ve fucked us over”. It is true that there is a divide both in age and ideology surrounding the UK’s independence within the EU, but the trio from Fleet feel that may be stepping into Indie Rock as a genre too. 

Although in no ways disappointed with the scene and its growing newcomers such as Rat Boy, The Magic Gang and Spring King they all feel a bit let down. Jonny (their drummer) claims that the constantly touring bands don’t have anything to get into and they’re lacking any “story”. This is undeniably true, Spring King are almost straight edge, The Magic Gang aren’t anything to obsess over and “everyone hates Rat Boy”. It’s clear as day to Drug Store Romeos, they are the band that everyone has been waiting for. A mixture of good songs, image and just enough weird to make young Indie kids froth at their mouths.

Originally Jonny and Charlie were seriously into Punk, more specifically 80s Hardcore. The boys loved it so much that they tried to re-enact it well over thirty years later. With others, they recorded a “really bad” album and played a hoard of old school pubs and clubs full of “old bald men”. Although the band were gaining some success, the image of a life of playing to old men was not appealing. At this point a Facebook post was written, and Sarah Downie was pulled in for lead vocals and bass guitar.

It is still unclear as to what Drug Store Romeos are in terms of sound. Citing influences from Echochamp, Joy Division, Sunflower Bean and FIDLAR there seems to be no honest genre that the band want to fit into just yet. One name keeps popping up over and over again however, Foxygen. “Their songs are all conceptual, we wanna have those moments [of creativity]. Like moments when Sarah will sing French interludes”. Another key influence is Kate Bush, especially in Sarah’s delivery and lyricism. The band’s desire to shy away from labels and just make experimental Indie Rock is what Charlie thinks will find them their place in the industry; “a committed band, that are cool, and psychedelic”.

Sarah’s place as frontman has a few annoying moments, usually in the form of two words; Wolf Alice. Townie admits “I really love Wolf Alice, but I don’t want to sound like them at all. If you love someone too much you begin to reproduce them”. Early in the band’s demos, people have already started trying to make comparisons to the London four piece on account of their dreamy female vocal lead. On listening to their songs live in rehearsals, the comparisons end past the instruments they both use. Drug Store Romeos are far more hypnotic and Shoegaze.

The future seems clear for the young Fleet band. They have a few small shows, and a few support slots . The band are also recording two songs to try and gain some radio airplay and attention. Who knows what will happen when they find their feet in the industry.

My Dick, 3OH!3

3OH!3 remind me of being at junior school. In the late noughties they released three solid hits; 'Don't Trust Me', 'My First Kiss' and 'Starstrukk'. Listening back to them today I realise that 1)I was naive in Year Five and 2) 3OH!3 were disgustingly awesome. The band's interpretation of electro pop and frat boy rapping was gross out, knowingly misogynistic and perfectly dance worthy. 'Starstrukk' is maybe their standout single, featuring Katy Perry's autotuned chorus and mentions of "daisy dukes". The music is SO ignorant, bombastic and sexist- it is the theme song of America.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) 3OH!3 never stopped making music. The Colorado natives of Sean Foreman and Nathaniel Motte kept the vibes alive. As I was searching the web for anything to distract me from the horrors of Brexit, I found it. A new song by 3OH!3, but not just a new song- the greatest song of all time. 'My Dick' (taken off their new album Night Sports) is about a man with an uncomfortably large penis gloating about his endowment, there is little to dislike.

The song is composed of multiple pastiched styles of rapping, from a Mockney accent, Sir Mixalot and Future. Every line is a loosely constructed simile discussing penile size, all with laughable hyperbole. (I sometimes question why I want to be a music journalist, moments like this restore my faith). The whole song is jaw droppingly sleazy, it makes me feel ashamed to be alive. However,'My Dick's slicing EDM beat is fantastic and would be at home on any Diplo album.

The chorus restores my belief in songwriting and simplicity;
"Everytime I look at my dick I'm like holy shit that's a big dick! And everytime I look at your dick I'm like holy shit that's a small dick!"
3OH!3 never left puberty, they are still sat at the back of the class belting out non sensical abuse at the nerds. They are the ones who manage to boast about the size of their penis, but inadvertently make it known they look across at you in the urinals. Bless them.

"No Indie, just House mate" Has music died?

About 15 geezers are stood at the end of the garden at a house party and the question is suddenly asked; “alright who’s going on the aux?”. Eyes dart around the circle as people excuse themselves due to stingy data packages, as someone pipes up that they have a “fire soundcloud”. He is coaxed to plug in, and his fate is sealed by the words “No Indie, just House mate”.

It has been a long time since the band were cool in the UK. You search the charts and you hear bland pop stars, faceless Tropical House DJs and Atlanta Trap. The masses believe that guitar music hit its peak in 2007 with Arctic Monkey’s ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ and that anything after that really cannot be beaten. Guitars aren’t cool and nor are bands, don’t think of playing anything other than Mr Brightside. For most, indie music should remain on the soundtrack of The Inbetweeners and for teenagers that spend their days in British Heart Foundation and evenings on Tumblr. The modern Brit teenager wants to spend their weekends huffing Nos bought on Amazon, not examining the relationship between Peter Doherty and Carl Barat.

Dance music is cool. Dance music is really cool. Although always a subcultural stronghold in the UK, within the past five years we have witnessed a shift in musical mindset. The default used to be guitars, now everyone wants to be shuffling. This Summer, festival goers will not be able to avoid any genre of dance, whether it be House, DnB, Garage or anything in-between- it is everywhere. The size of this year’s Culture Clash held at the O2 just goes to prove that there is a huge market for dance music. The uniform has been set; Nike TNs, shotting bags and something from Basement- and people are following it. E is on the rise, and so are the amount of Brittish kids skanking.

Indie isn’t dead. People may not want them at their parties, but that isn’t stopping them from popping up everywhere. From the all out synth//guitar mess of Yak, the melodic bop of The Magic Gang and the Reading based swoon of Sundara Karma- there is something special just waiting to go supersonic. It isn’t just the small bands that are paving the way for an indie resurgence, the torchbearers may come from the most unlikely of Manchester bands. 18 months ago I would have scoffed at anyone who claimed that The 1975 were anything but crap. But when you listen to their new album, watch their live shows and weigh up Matt Healy as a true indie hero. Maybe, just maybe they have the clout to knock dance music of their sweaty, streetwear podium. 

An Ode To Tonic

Or The Existentialism Surrounding The Great British Night Out
 

It is no longer Friday night but Saturday morning and technically my night still hasn’t begun. Our plan was to go to ‘Fever & Boutique’, a new club based off the successful ‘Moo Moos’ chain- the nearest one being a £4 train journey away in Fleet. The Facebook description was soberly post-ironic, promising retro chic and chart hits. I hate retro chic and chart hits, so obviously I wanted to go.

Due to the predictability of the human race, every non-married person in Basingstoke also wanted to get in. We all queued desperately for entry that would cost us £3.  It was like being at Thorpe Park. But at the end of it I would not get to ride on Europe’s fastest rollercoaster, I would be at ‘Fever & Boutique’. I begin to loathe myself more so than I already do, I complain to my friends who in return complain to me. We all begin to feel fulfilled through our complaining, this is the Great British Night Out.

A fork is put in the road and an ultimatum is made by someone probably too drunk to remember why he or she said it “ten more minutes, if we aren’t in then we’ll go Tonic”. We wait three and a half minutes and leave the stationary queue of every non-married person in Basingstoke to walk around 100 metres to ‘Tonic’. We are cold and losing our buzz from the pre-drink at Spoons, anything indoors is looking like a positive.

‘Tonic’ used to be the only nightclub in Basingstoke. Therefore there was no actual need for ‘Tonic’ to do anything more than just exist. It has two levels, the ground floor is mainly just a bar with some soft seating and upstairs is the dance floor with another two bars. Rene Descartes believed that “I think therefore I am”, the philosophy lives on as “I sell Jagerbombs for £3 therefore I am”. The design has no flaws; it works almost as a Socialist testament to functionality. The group I am with begin to grow anxious and some threaten to go to Reading to experiment with something more salubrious. They stay.

Like the cathartic trend of ‘indieamnesty’, ‘Tonic’ stinks of the early 2000s. A projection screen hangs at one end of the dance floor with drinks offers produced on Powerpoint with a penchant for garish word art. The DJ I can only assume was the father of someone I went to junior school with. Dance music is an ever evolving genre and as EDM falls into a neatly dug grave, teenagers are reverting back to Garage, House and Drum and Bass. On the playlist tonight was what I can hear Gregg James play at midday on Radio One. ‘Tonic’ is not a good place for listening or dancing to music.

“I don’t know why I’m even complaining, I love Tonic” come out of someone’s mouth I was standing next to. I didn’t love ‘Tonic’, nor did I love it in the way that I love Frozen as an 18-year-old male. There was no ironic passion, but how could I complain either? I had made a series of ugly decisions that got me to this point of dancing to Sean Paul. Was this me being masochistic? Did I actually want to have a bad time? Or was this ‘Tonic’s plan? Make everyone have a bad time, to make everyon realise what really matters is the people who surround you daily.

Perhaps that euphoric feeling that The Great British Night Out aims to capture doesn’t come from your friend from Media’s trip to ‘Sketch’, or the Snaphat story of a wide eyed girl at a wavy garms rave. Maybe The Great British Night Out is standing on the dance floor listening to Sean Paul and wanting to die.