the pitfalls of living a disconnected life in a digital age

I've had a phone stolen, put one through the washing machine with my work trousers and lost one under about a foot of fake snow at a New Years Eve party at the Scala.

But when my HTC Desire decided to give up the ghost earlier the week, things were different. This was my first smart phone, my connection to the world that went beyond missing out an a few texts or the odd call. ok, it's a slight hindrance to the way I lead my life, but it's no big deal.

so as me and my girlfriend head our separate ways at Liverpool Street station with half made plans to meet again at a certain time if the fates allow, otherwise I'll see her at home.

I was out and about to witness a handful of Enfield's bands dragging themselves away from the Bush Hill Park Tavern for once, I've seen one of my boroughs most beloved bands struggle for attendance as close to home as Camden, so I thought I'd support my boys, support my friends and make the journey along especially. I'd made no promises to anyone, thought I'd just turn up and surprise them, but it was me that was surprised as I descended to the basement bar of the Spitalfields venue.

The doors opened at half 7, first band on at quarter to eight, it was now quarter past eight and I found myself stood in an empty room, just me and one other guy that told me through a muffled mouth of sandwich that the gig was cancelled.

'band members were underage' i just about deciphered before he swallowed.

I wandered aimlessly for a short while, hoping that a recognisable Enfieldian or two would be propping up one of a handful of nearby bars while I weighed up my options.

On any normal evening I'd have checked facebook and twitter for updates on the rather dire situation, texted or called one of my mates playing, been hopping on the train back to the more familiar and predictable surroundings of Bush Hill Park and let my girlfriend know the dealio.

Most normal evenings don't result in me nursing a pint of ale for an hour and forty minutes, sat on my own reading a book in a pub in Great Portland Street before descending down the stairs to the comic-book wallpapered lower level where my other half is among a roomful of uke players , merrily strumming away and singing their way through a songbook projected at the front of the room.

So whilst, unbeknownst to me, Decoy Jet, Building The Songbird and Echochain turn a soured experience into a show of solidarity in front of a rabid home crowd, I grabbed another drink and settled in amongst the well lubricated throng for mass singalongs of Oasis and Mumford and Sons before revealing my presence to my girlfriend.

Sure, it wasn't a normal evening, but sometimes the simple joy of the unexpected is just as rewarding.

(although all the missed instagram opportunities are killing me now)



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E.m.m.a: Blue Gardens

As an 80s baby, the 16 and 8-bit noises of old consoles and gameboys will always tug at my heart strings, wrestling me from this interconnected world and taking me back to a time when the Tetris end screen figured pretty highly into my life goals.

Enter E.m.m.a, wielding a debut album that swings wildly for my memories, taking swipes at my past both distant and more recent, Kirby's Dreamhouse and Streets of Rage are mashed up with the pirate radio stations that used to blast out of our 6th form common room and the garage nights where a friend of a friend that owned their own decks and a boxful of vinyls would provide the gateway drug to real going out when we'd finally all turn 18.

Chuck in some Notting Hill carnival vibes for good measure and a healthy dose of Burial style dubstep and that pretty much sums up the listening experience, an experience that feels tailor made to my own personal tastes. Whilst the experimentation with chip-tune may be nothing original, the way it is presented here certainly feels different, atmospheric yet edgy, a balance of light and dark, dreamy soundscapes and devastating bass.

And I doubt I could tire of it, seemingly fresh and yet overwhelmingly nostalgic, for me at least, those that haven't revelled in a fondness for clubbing and late 80s/early 90s gaming may not understand the virtues I am extolling, but others of my generation will surely find this to be a culturally rich sonic masterpiece.

Fall Out Boy: Save Rock And Roll

Seeking Susan Boyle has been a one man band since its inception, but no longer...

introducing herself with a review of Fall Out Boy's comeback album is Nelly da Conceição Estrela, who caught my eye with her work over at her own blog, student-journalist and who i'm proud to welcome to the fold.



This may be a little biased seeing as I am the biggest Fall Out Boy fangirl ever since my best friend made me listen to ‘Dance, Dance’ off their 2005 album ‘From Under The Cork Tree’.

I saw Fall Out Boy perform for the first time at the O2 Arena in March of 2009 and it was magic for my little teenage heart. It was a wonderful night and I’ll never forget how I felt like I was part of one big family as we all sung the lyrics to ‘Nobody Puts Baby In A Corner’ in complete unison.

The 4-piece band from Illinois, Chicago went on to have an impromptu hiatus from 2010 until early February this year. To the delight of many die-hard fans (myself included), they had secretly recorded a whole album (insert squeals here), titled an ambitious ‘Save Rock And Roll’. Although, I feel that it’s a satirical device, the album title is fitting.

A music video was released four days after their comeback was announced, starring 2 Chainz, a popular hip-hop artist. Hardly rock and roll, but I applaud the boys for putting out creative feelers and trying to do something different.

The polar worlds of hip-hop/rap and rock have collided before; does anybody remember the music video of Korn’s ‘Twisted Transistor’ featuring rappers Lil jon, Xzibit, Snoop Dogg and David Banner? To my disgust, a small group of so-called ‘fans’ were exercising their right to free speech and making albeit racist remarks at the collaboration on the YouTube comments for the single ‘My Songs Know What You Did In the Dark (Light Em Up)’.

 

There were some people who made genuine comments on the album, referring to the repeated usage of technology instead of what they call ‘real instruments’. To some degree, I’ll recognise that some of the songs are severely lacking in the raw essence we saw in ‘Infinity on High’ (2007) and ‘Take This To Your Grave’ (2003).

As a drummer, I found myself to be disappointed in the beats and found them to be a little too edited and saturated to connect with. Having said that, I do really like the clap sample intro from ‘My Songs’ (which went platinum in the U.S.) and the intro to ‘Rat a Tat’, which features Courtney Love. The star-studded album also features the likes of Elton John, Big Sean and Foxes, an up-and-coming British singer and songwriter.

As a fangirl, I was psyched for this album and I still find myself grooving to it. I have to respect that this album was produced with 100% heart and that Fall Out Boy are trying to shed their negative sell-out ‘emo’ phase and trying to please no one but themselves with their music.

And that takes a lot of cojones, especially in this wonderful, weird digital age.

words by Nelly da Conceição Estrela

Losers, live at Proud Camden: 11th July 2013

Everything must change.

Evolve or face extinction.

And so it is with Losers.

What brought me to be stood inside a hot, sticky Camden venue on a balmy July evening was the promise of witnessing the live incarnation of the second album from Eddy TM's band, the Xfm stalwart and all round nice guy trading decks for a bass guitar, and a curiosity and passion for anything this guy touches had not prepared me for what came next.

'Beautiful Losers' the debut album was reconstructed beats, a dance-rock hybrid tailor made for Eddy's longstanding Remix show, practically filtering his playlist for influences.

I knew what I wanted, I wanted to dance.

And as the amps were all turned up to 11, I had to put my expectations aside.

Opener 'Acrobatica', was a heaving, unrelenting beast of a industrial rock track, being played by a industrial rock band as if they were facing oblivion and could only ward off the end of the Earth with use of an extremely loud P.A system.

I was shocked.

I presumed that the guitars would subside into some oozing electro-samples and squelches, I presumed wrong, the guitars did not subside, and as the set progressed I realised that I was watching an adept band and not just some meandering side-project.

What I was witnessing was a band purpose built to slot into the middle of any major UK festival, the type of band you stumble across on an unspecified stage, a band that commands attention with their stage presence, absolute passion and unquestionable skill set, capturing imaginations with their blend of Nine Inch Nails and UNKLE swallowing Placebo's Brian Molko whole.

A handful of the tracks offered up dip their toes into the dance arena, but rather than mourning the lack of hands in the air moments, instead I swooned at the fine crafted set that built to rapturous crescendos and euphoric highs.

Losers have evolved, from a collaborative remix project, to releasing a guest-laced album, and now taking up the mantle of a uniquely enigmatic tech-rock act that play is if they have scores to settle.

With so many bands resting on their laurels, lapping up airplay, selling their souls and watching the money roll in, Losers once again cast themselves as the outsiders, choosing to embrace change, facing a turning point and embracing it whole-heartedly.

If the music industry is really in decline, expect Losers to adapt and survive by any means necessary.

Matthew Herbert: The End of Silence

It is entirely possible that The End Of Silence is not music.

And under this reasoning, it is probable that this is not a review.

This is a war report.

Live from the centre of the conflict here in Libya, imagine the broadcaster, facing, talking to the camera, explaining the situation, and the forces both for Gadafi and opposed, and imagine the moment of horror caught on camera, imagine the shock and the surprise as a bomb is dropped from a pro-Gadafi aircraft.

And now imagine that same moment, imagine reliving it over and over again.

Imagine that you don't have to imagine.

Because the new project from Matthew Herbert is a sound sample of an attack in 2011, a simple 10 second clip repeated over and over in a unique fashion, it has been pulled apart, stretched, crunched, and who knows what else Herbert has done to it, but once he was finished, he turned it over to his four piece band who, somehow, 'play' that 10 second recorded by photographer Sebastian Meyer for 40 minutes.

The fact that more time must be spent explaining this release than can be spent actually reviewing it is part of The End Of Silence's subjective nature as a piece of art, for myself, I found the listening experience to be immersive and harrowing, as ambient sound plays out across three parts, each time building an atmospheric and entrancing groove, and each time I'm anticipating the bomb drop, anticipating the screech and the horror and the noise.

And then it's gone.

But the fact that it will be repeated, the fact that it could happen again at anytime, it means that this goes beyond music, it is art, it makes you feel, makes you feel fear, makes you wonder if this is what life in a war zone must feel like.

Not everyone will feel the same way, not everyone will like this.

And that is truly art.

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Late Night Tales: Röyksopp

How much can really be said about Late Night Tales?

If you are already subscribing to this series of compilations then you already know exactly what you are getting.

And if you are a fan of Röyksopp, lava lamps and jazz cigarettes then you are probably already in a purple haze, reclined, listening to the latest in this long line of mixes rather than scouring online reviews.

For those that may need a little more convincing, here goes...

Röyksopp are here to take you under their most capable wing, perhaps you've had a few too many down at the local Yates', perhaps it has been a hard week at work and you are in need of a bubble bath and massage oils, or perhaps you have another reason to simply want to drift away from the rest of the world until morning breaks, it's ok, relax, Röyksopp are here for you.



Although it may not connect directly with fans of the down-beat, up-lifting duo, the spirit of their music and the comfort of a post-club, post-chill out zone, pre-satisfying slumber early hours crash-pad make this a special mix for a ridiculously niche audience, but as Late Night Tales continues unabated, this drowsy niche audience must be buying in droves.

We have the obligatory exclusive music from Röyksopp to satisfy the completists, and we have track after track of easy listening, because the time to dance is over, we have Acker Bilk, XTC and Vangelis, all at their most mellow, and plenty more besides, and we have Bernand Cumberbatch reading us a bedtime story to bring the release to a close.

Part of me demands more from my DJ mixes, but then another part of me has had enough whisky already and is now wanting to close my eyes, hope the world stops spinning by morning and slide away into sleep.


Röyksopp's Late Night Tales compilation can be ordered here.

Return of The Bush: Live Review

London's Astoria, New York's CBGB, Manchester's Hacienda, Liverpool's Cavern Club and the Bush Hill Park Tavern....

Those living outside of the North London borough of Enfield may have possibly been unaware that the ornate old building that looms large near the tucked away Bush Hill Park rail station holds just as much cultural significance to local music fans as the aforementioned legendary venues do to the rest of the world at large.

Despite not quite carrying the same pedigree as more well known sweat boxes, it is the sporadic and erratic timing of the gigs held in the usually serene boozer's function room that has made this place a firm favourite of my home town.

Last weekend saw The Return Of The Bush ushering in a new age for the Enfield music scene, as familiar faces from familiar bands that themselves were no strangers to this back-room's charms took to the stage in new incarnations, gathering under one roof and kicking to the curb rumours that our beloved scene had faltered and fallen for good.

The vibrancy and diversity of musical tribes converged in unity as a sliding scale of genres was represented over the course of just one evening, from the opening mod-influenced indie rockers Decoy Jet, through the psychedelia-laced Four Sheets To The Wind and the unstoppable funk of Deep Seed. Whilst those that prefer the heavier side of life witnessed the debut gig of Building The Songbird tackling atmospheric post-hardcore, the last ever performance from metallers Red Button Exit, who bowed out in style with a 'Wall of Death' mosh pit and headliners Hands Of A Saviour, who were left to cap the evening off by hitting the Bush with the force of a ten-tonne truck.



Whilst other towns and other venues may boast more consistent musical programmes, it has been the impromptu planning and long absences that makes every small gig held at The Bush feel like an event, with local bands clamouring to get involved, and the punters treating these rare musical outings in our little corner of North London as joyous celebrations, supporting our friends and peers and not having too far to travel home afterwards.

And for now, the scene feels revived, with new bands bearing the promise of carrying Enfield's musical legacy further forward, and loose lips swearing that it won't be too long until we see the Bush heaving, sweating and singing again.