remaster system

I now seem to have reached a curious age.

Should I be concerned that I am now setting out to buy albums that I already own?

Am I getting forgetful?

The convoluted solution to this conundrum lies deep within the record industries insistence on re-releasing old music and now I have found that my past has been remastered.


First things first, this year does not mark the first time that I have added remastered versions of albums to my CD collection (that's right, you read it correctly... a CD collection, now deal with it), but the simple difference is that previously I had been acquiring these releases for the first time.  I went through a phase of purchasing expanded versions of David Bowie albums, with a healthy disposable income and a hunger to own more music, I made a number of pre-orders to not just add The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust and Alladin Sane to my racks, but also whatever demos, alternative versions and live versions that came with it.  Some albums I have listened to more than others (the two aforementioned, for instance), but I struggle to think of an occasion that I have gone reaching to indulge myself with a spin of Don't Let Me Down & Down (Jangan Susahkan Hatiku) (Indonesian vocal version) from the Black Tie, White Noise 10th Anniversary re-issue.

And this is the crux of the matter.  Those albums weren't re-released for me. 

They were put out in an attempt to part completists with a little more of their hard-earned for something they already own.

But now the past has caught up with me, as within a period of 9 months I find myself doubled up on copies of Be Here Now and OK Computer...

The Oasis re-releases started appearing to coincide with the 20th anniversary of Definitely Maybe, but I held out until what could possible be my favourite Oasis album (that's right, you read it correctly... , Be Here Now may be my favourite, now deal with it) got the full 3CD remastered treatment, adding remastered b-sides and unheard demo tracks into the mix, and the completest that lives inside of me was screaming out for me to pay full price for an album that I already paid full price for upon its original release.

D'you remember the furore that surrounded it?  The overblown video for the lead single and the buzz of a band that had gone stratospheric with (What's The Story) Morning Glory?, and while HMV on Oxford Street opened at midnight for eager punters to get their hands on it on the day of release, I remember pre-ordering Be Here Now with a £1 deposit at my closest Woolworths in Waltham Cross, who opened an hour early to deal with the overwhelming demand (there were three people, including myself).

It must have been a half term holiday as I remember cycling to Woolies on that morning with my little brother in tow, cycling back home and then taping the album on my first listen so that I could get back outside in the sunshiiiine, on my bike with a copy of Be Here Now ever-present in my beloved portable cassette player (we all called them Walkmans, but they weren't Sony Walkmans).

My memories of acquiring OK Computer are not quite so crystal clear, I vaguely recall it possibly being purchased from a Cash Converters, likely for about £3, some time after the initial release.  I was a voracious devourer and collector of music but I also had a budget.  Much of my vast collection was made up of second hand CDs and reduced sale offerings.

But Karma Police stood out from the peer group of pop and indie on a compilation album circa 1997, they were mainstream, but on the outskirts of popular music, I didn't know at the time that their sound would shape my outlook, that later albums would fill my brain with stark possibilities of what music could be, and that those earlier albums I would later revisit and relate to so heavily.

With Radiohead, OKNOTOK presents an opportunity to own a nice shiny disc with which I can further explore the mindset and soundscape of a band on the verge of everything and nothing... critical acclaim, fanatical adoration and mental breakdown.  And all for a price of £9.99, likely less than the album originally retailed for upon release.

And of course, the remastering process means nothing to me.  Only audiophiles will be excited by whatever has been done to make it sound... actually, I'm not even sure how it sounds, since the remastered album isn't even the thing I am interested in and I'm not sure that the albums themselves have even left their respective cases since purchase.

So I'm now sat pondering what other 'classic' albums will be coming of age, reminding me of the ever advancing years, ripe for remastering and peddling back to those that already have them, facing temptation with a smattering of unheard or unearthed extras.

And I'm pondering which I'll be too much of a sucker to resist.

like a detuned radio...

It's more than FOMO.

It's kind of like a deeper longer that anchors my soul and swells in the depth of my stomach.

And it seems slightly ridiculous as I try to put this feeling into some sort of coherent and relatable piece of writing, but being unable to see Radiohead at Glastonbury last Friday was almost too much to bear.

Is it love?  Is it obsession?  Or is it just one band among a small handful that I am determined to see live, yet I am still to tick off my bucket list?

And as I think about my own memories of the band that re-listening to a handful has dug up, I must admit that it is something like a combination of all three.

Of the Nineties indie titans that dominated airwaves in my pre-gig-going days, I have seen Oasis multiple times, I saw Blur at a reunion show in Hyde Park in 2009 and I finally witnessed Manic Street Preachers at Festival No. 6 four years ago.  Pulp have so far eluded me, as have Radiohead.

But Radiohead fit awkwardly in this bracket, in much the same way they fit awkwardly in any bracket.  In much the same way many of us in life find ourselves fitting awkwardly into social situations or circumstances.  In much the same way that many of us look towards something to identify with, or lose ourselves in when we find ourselves fitting awkwardly into this so called life.

Are we all creeps?  Are we all weirdos?  Certainly in the long-ago time of 'before we all carried the Internet everywhere we go', it was a far simpler thing to feel alone, and feel that we didn't belong here, and to take solace in music, particularly in our teenage years.  I distinctly remember picking up my copy of The Bends reduced in a branch of Blockbuster Video and always skipping back to the beginning of Street Spirit (Fade Out) several times once the album had reached its end, I'm fairly certain that my copy of OK Computer came from a Cash Converters, and I remember becoming so obsessed with Kid A (bought new upon release for a change) that I even insisted on listening to it in the car when my mum picked me up and dropped me off from my first weekend job.

And it was to be Kid A that proved to be the turning point for me, arriving in my life at a time when my teenage quest for identity reached the cross-section with outgrowing mainstream commercial music, I would listen to the album on repeat, fixated on the vast palette of challenging sonics that proved to be jarring and completely removed from all other music, yet I felt like I belonged to this album, lost in the waves of aural complexities.  Melody Maker may have told me that everybody is obsessed with Radiohead when I started reading it, but right then, I was the only person obsessed with Radiohead.

Of course my eyes would open to their place in the wider world over the years that followed, but I'd already had my moment that shaped my taste for the different.  And over the years that followed I have empathised with Radiohead's own pursuit of being different.  The girlfriend that is now my wife delved into music exploration headfirst with me, and when we pulled up at a traffic lights beside rude bois blasting their bass-rattling whatever it was, we decided to wind down the windows and turn up OK Computer as loud as we could.

And it was OK Computer that I played on repeat walking to and from work in the weeks running up to this year's Glastonbury Festival, hearing past the edge in the music that has always caught my attention and focusing more and more intently on the bereft lyrics as they swam around my head.  Taking ahold of the words and feeling the true sense of them that I couldn't ten or fifteen years ago.  Even on days when temperatures soared not the 30s I pressed play time and time again on the album now celebrating its 20th anniversary instead of the far more apt reggae appropriation of Radiodread by Easy Star All-Stars

Beyond that, I have dipped in and out of the more recent albums over the past decade, but always felt emboldened by the decisions the band have made to make music, play music and release music on their own terms.

And that it why, when my tellyhead wife settled in for a weekend of Glastonbury coverage, I just couldn't bring myself to watch Radiohead's headline performance.  It was too painful for me to sit on a comfortable sofa in a space so far removed from the live performance and watch a band that I am still desperate to witness first-hand.  Because this isn't just another 'play the hits' band that you're assured will tick all the boxes with every show they play, this is a band that have evolved and changed not just the face of music, but also my own personal preferences.

And it was my personal preference to walk away from the to coverage, for that one night at least.


And I will see Radiohead, obviously on their terms and not mine, as they have already proved recently by playing the Roundhouse in Camden in support of A Moon Shaped Pool, and announcing arena dates in Manchester yet no arena shows for London this time around.  And obviously by rolling up at a Glastonbury that I was unable to get tickets for.

And I'll hang in there, with the rest of the creeps and the weirdos.

And I promise not to be annoyed if they don't play Creep, after all, it will be on their terms and not mine.

That Glasto Feeling

We're less than a week away and i know i won't be able to escape the Glastonbury coverage.

the live coverage, the rumours, the weather forecasts, all of it on my frequented websites, tv channels, radio stations and social networks. 

we're less than a week away and already i'm overwhelmingly missing that Glastonbury feeling. 

it's there in the warm weather and the ever-present threat of rain storms just around the corner. 

it's there in the lighter evenings and the prolonged enjoyment of alcohol in the company of friends. 

it's there in the smells wafting from food market stalls scattered on the streets and the bbqs in numerous gardens. 

it's there. any time a like minded group of people come together. 

it's there. in the traffic queues approaching Worthy Farm. in the trek from the car, laden with tents, backpacks and your chosen tipple. in The Park, or at the top of the field looking down towards the Pyramid Stage. 

it's everywhere. and yet sometimes it feels like it is nowhere to be found.

was it there when Brexit campaigning split the country? was it there when Donald Trump became President Elect? was it there throughout the UK's latest election?

is it here as this country picks up the pieces after the dreadful scenes played out at Grenfell Tower, as we scrutinise the cost cutting measures and safety failings, as we count the true cost, now that families and lives have been torn apart.

we're united in grief, but we're still divided - us and them.

i sometimes have to turn my back on the news.  too heartbreaking to bear or too real to comprehend.  

but sometimes news can be good news.  

sometimes bad news can result in good news.

and the recent, heartbreakingly sad, anniversary of the murder of Jo Cox being marked by a campaign of Great Get Togethers is a perfect antidote to bad news, turning a negative into a positive, using the power of human spirit to conquer grief and sadness.

as a population on our island, and as a shared human race, we are a very long way from 'getting together'.

but for one weekend, in a number of farmer's fields in Pilton, we are one.

Whether we are there slipping and sliding in the mud or enjoying (or missing) it from the comfort of our sofas, whether we are holding on to our well-earned position for the Pyramid Stage headliners against the will of our bladders, cherishing time with young families in the Kids Field or drinking ourselves into a cider-fuelled oblivion, whether we are asleep by midnight or up until sunrise in a far flung field losing our minds through legal or illegal means or simply through sleep deprivation.

I miss all of that.

I'm overwhelmingly missing that Glastonbury feeling yet again.

but it is comforting to know that in that microcosm of liberal and like minded society that will be congregating this weekend without me, whether they know it or not, these words of Jo Cox will be ringing true...

'We are far more united and have far more in common than that which divides us'

from the many, varied, dance tents, to the headliners, stage openers and weird and wonderful performers and revellers that make this one weekend as glorious and unique as the human spirit, never a truer sentence has ever been spoken...

and that is the Glastonbury feeling....

Time, and Time Again.

previously published on Desperately Seeking Susan Boyle

It isn't very often that I discover the music I am reviewing by way of answering a listing on Gumtree... But so the story goes, my contract was coming to an end at work and I was scouring the internet for jobs, then I got bored and distracted and instead started scouring Gumtree adverts for musical collaborations instead of job vacancies.

And so I came to meet up with Yann Ryan, enjoy a few alcoholic beverages with him in a pub near Liverpool Street Station and slowly begin work by trading files and ideas back and forth across the internet.

At some point, these new re-imaginings of mine became stuck in hard-drive limbo as real-life sucked me in and spat me out, but I had felt fortunate enough to have been given access to the raw and effecting audio files, to be able to isolate the bewildering vocal take and sit there in wonder as it repeated over, wondering how anything I could do could possibly even attempt to improve upon such a rustic and fully formed talent.

Around a half and a half later or so and I feel my fortunes have changed, I think maybe I can check in on Yann and possibly put this project to bed, but in this time Yann Ryan has pulled together an EP that includes some the tracks I had a stab at reshaping in a far different form, and I'm happy that these songs are finally out in the world, the music that I had been so eager to share but felt that I had to sit upon for fear of over-stepping boundaries can now be accessed by anyone with an internet connection.

Released last December, the Time EP is a downtrodden and fragile affair that is buoyed by the gravitational pull of Yann's crisp, oaken voice, a voice that stopped me in tracks when I first heard it, and the strength and intricacies of his songwriting still captivate me.  Few artists would even dare to weave their lyrics with such obtuse vocabulary as 'inconsequential' and casually reference 'Bosnia Herzegovina', but Yann makes it feel effortless, and the unique outlook he adds to the remit of the singer/songwriter is refreshing.

I still hope that the tracks we collaborated on will still come to light in one form or another, but for now I am happy to support Yann Ryan's talents and selflessly share his music with the wider world without the cloak of self-aggrandising.

Regardless, I'd like to catch up with Yann again over a few more pints and wish him well.

Out now via Bandcamp

sequential art storytelling

Why not give myself another pipe dream to wrangle with.

You know me. Blogger, Poet, Experimental Music Artist, Author...

and plenty more besides.

So why not add another string to my bow.

Why not stop telling myself that I'd love to write a comic book and actually get round to writing one...

And so the thought process behind my little venture for October started a little like that and ended up with my rough doodlings of a man-beast battling with stick figures across a plotted out 11 page story.

Like many people before I had wanted to run before I could walk, I've had an idea for a D-list DC universe character for a while, so long that I don't actually believe he even exists in the current New 52 DCU, it is a story than spans life, death and superheriocs. DC are the comics I've loved to read and are the ones I'd love to write... But I've never written a comic before!

 

Instead of diving feet first into my ambitious project only to find that it may forever be beyond my reach I chose to cut my teeth on something simpler...

Create a hero, 50s style.

Hero. Bad guys. Fighting. Other stuff... The end.

A real rush job, tell a tale, have a ludicrously dressed assailant fighting crime and wrap it up quickly. How hard could it possibly be...

Thankfully the seeds for my ridiculous hero came to me before I tried to put pen to paper, I wasn't looking for perfection, I was simply looking for fun... I imagined him to be a character designed in the boom of superhero creation, a simple time wasting wonder that would be thrown together in order to fill space in a cheaply printed strip, never knowing if people will care to read it or ever see more of your champion.

 

 

I've grown on writers that have pushed boundaries and one day wish to emulate the Grant Morrisons, Neil Gaimans and Allan Moores of this world. But not right now.

I grabbed some blank sheets of paper, folded them in half and wrote down what I thought would be the main beats of each page. Ten minute job. But the scripting and panelling became a far longer process, trying hard but trying not to try too hard, trying to keep it simple but to understand the pace of my story and how I expected it to progress.

Each page probably took me between 45 minutes and an hour as I deliberated over panels and speech bubbles, how many punches to be thrown and how many generic gangsters should enter the fray.

I toiled with ideas for supporting cast and plot, fearing it would be too derivative or seen as a mere copycat of other heroic tropes... But then again my agenda was based on the works of an era when heroes looked alike, with publishers keen to emulate the sudden popularity of a super-so-and-so, and so I steamed ahead with my story of cops and robbers and a mysterious figure fighting for right.

And so this is the story of how I became a nearly-but-not-quite comic writer, with one original creation under my belt and a rather fun draft of thumbnail pages to my name. I'd like to see my character fully embellished, with an actual artist giving life to my stick figures in fedoras.

I've already got plans for his teenage side-kick, his arch-nemesis and a handful of spin-off titles, they remain unwritten as yet, but it should be enough to keep a movie franchise going for several years at least.

 

a blogger?

 

a blogger?

is that what I am? I check the ever declining post count that sits aside the years that scroll down the side of the page like a dipstick being plunged into my own personal history. more frequently coming up empty.

am I a blogger?

 

sometimes I wish that I still was. I still have a blog that exists, but everything is changing. The Internet is changing. Attitudes are changing. Interests are changing. I am changing. And blogging is a strange lost art, not just to myself but to so many creative outlets that I used to ponder over and draw inspiration from.

Now I see bland advertising and twee snapshots of happy lives that link to instagram profiles. I'm sure that somewhere out there my happiness lays in wait, but I've never the time to look for it.

 

And I mourn my own lack of writing. This is my diary. A public domain documentation of the person I am happy to present for display. On occasions I even read my own prior blog posts and smile at who I was, and feel proud that whatever was inside of me in that moment has been captured, and preserved perhaps forever.

 

So am I a blogger?

I'm certainly not a career-minded brand that exists in every corner of the world wide webs global reach. I'm too tired for that. The internet seems to keep displaying bad timing as far as I'm concerned. I haven't got the energy, and the energy I do have I am putting into other things that I am not always annotating.

I've got meals to make, a house to keep clean, a garden to tend to, a wife to support practically and emotionally. I'm sometimes exhausted by life, but I still want to be more.

 

But am I a blogger?

Right now, I am a comic book writer. I've only just started and I don't imagine my first run through will be particularly amazing, but I have wanted to do it for a long time, and I decided that October would be when I become that thing that I want to be, I'll just have to find time to be all those other things I still want to be.

And perhaps I should blog about my comic book writing, I'm pretty sure that is something I would have enjoyed reading about in the blogging hey-dey of whenever it was, before the whole world fitted in my pocket. Perhaps I will. Or perhaps I won't.

 

And I'm trying to tweet more often. Not for any real reason other than to stay sane and determine that I have things to say that are more interesting than boring things, but that is only a matter of opinion anyway. I am still slightly fascinated by twitter, not as a 'social network' (if that is still a thing...) but as what I always remember it being referred to when people referred to it and it was a novel idea... as a 'micro-blog’. Where I can think things, and express them, in miniature.

It's more time effective for a start to dash off a handful of sub-140 character nuances that nobody will read than to spend time crafting an exemplary display of the written world which will hobble onto my blog to be read by no-one.

But right now I have chosen to take my thoughts, mush my fingers all over a touchscreen and conjur up a rambling stream of consciousness that I shall drop onto my once well-attended soapbox and I've enjoyed the chiming sense of release that such a practise emits.

 

I call this a blog post from a far-too infrequent blogger.

 

 

Having a laugh? Jared Leto's Joker.

As is inevitable in this ever connected society, people giddily sharing, shouting about or snidely remarking on certain 'geekier' developments in the world make it difficult to keep myself from seeing the things that I may not want to see.

Case in point: Suicide Squad.

I relented to my own curiosity and peeked at the first cast photo, just to acquaint myself with the talent on display, I briefly glimpsed the initial morsel of Jared Leto that now seems a red herring with fanboys and theorists clamouring to point out the allusions to The Killing Joke.

But before I even knew I'd have to start avoiding the first full image of Leto's Joker it had been splashed across facebook.

And I don't like it.

I'm not a fool. I'm not gonna simply shoot my mouth off and say it's wrong and gonna be terrible. Geeks have been burned before by exuberant expectation and unfounded ire. We've still got a massive promotional trail to get through, heck, they've gotta start shooting the bloody thing!! And all we have to go on is one out of context image that didn't even hint at any kind of mystery or subtlety.

But I still don't like it. I would at least walk you through what I think are my rational decisions.

Obviously previous big-screen incarnations of The Joker have been about re-envisioning or reinventing something that has already been firm in our memories, from ’66 to ’89 and again in 2008, each new portrayal had to break the mould of the previous and this new version is no exception, so allow me to scrutinise a little further...

The deathly pale, skinny, manic look of a deranged crack addict... I can live with this.

Bright green hair, a single purple glove and either some pimped out teeth or a hygiene problem (possibly even both?)... This could all work, I'll let it slide.

But the one thing that bothers me the most is those tattoos...

 

The grin synonymous with The Joker tattooed down his right forearm, a skull in a jesters hat and repeated Ha Ha Ha over the chest and arm, again it is proved that subtlety definitely was not a consideration for this project. And this is without even mentioning the dubious facial tattoos and other ink that is just about visible without being fully revealed.

Now we could discuss versions of the Joker all day, but in my mind I have never taken his chaotic tendencies to be easily placated long enough to endure multiple tattoo sessions.

This is clearly only casting aspersions but the overall tone seems to paint our new Mr J as a ruthless street thug. To me he looks more like a real-life obsessive Joker fanboy.

And with my imagination running on overdrive here is where I start to piece together my own wish-list of boxes this new DC cinematic universe needs to tick.

What if this isn't the Joker? What if this actually is an obsessive fanboy, a street thug, possibly the chief of operations that is at pains to prove himself to his boss... The real Joker.

Following Heath Ledger's near legendary portrayal I was holding out for a more laconic and brooding spin on the character, a darker and much scarier villain that is less likely to be seen cracking a smile. And with so many indicators pointing towards Frank Miller's Dark Knight Returns as a major inspiration in these next formative stages, the Leto Joker image that we've so far seen feels like a rather ill fit.

Having said all that I have been thoroughly enjoying the way that TV's Gotham has been playing hard and loose with established mythology to create its own world that borrows liberally from what we know and refines it in its own image to defy expectations, and all this fuss created is still based on just one image and not a lot else, I'm curious to see where this will all eventually lead and I'll do my best to keep an open mind until we get there.

 

 

hesitation.

Hesitation.

It haunts me.

Hangs in the air beside me, an apparition that seldom leaves me.

Holds me, holds me back.

I hesitate.

My first ever literary review.... Downloading Nirvana reviewed

Alongside slogging my arse off pre-turning thirty in order to complete my debut album, dedicated readers may also remember i had also promised an original novel of my own creation that should have been published by now

and it sort of has, except you can't order it, yet

some crazy U.S tax laws and stuff require me to file for a tax code and fax it to the moon and back and do a bunch of stuff i haven't done yet, hence, i am the only person able to order a copy...

But in the limited run that i have ordered and am in possesion of, there is one copy doing the rounds for lending purposes, since a book seems rather redundant if it can't be read

and even better than it being merely read, one recipient of this book, Mr Christopher Pennel, has not only become the first person besides myself to read it from start to finish, he has only bloody gone and written a review

so hold tight people.... here is the first ever review of a book that you can't actually order

now that's pretty exclusive!!!

I was given this book by Glen’s mystery girlfriend to whom the book was dedicated.

I admit that I only read it out of curiosity, to see what a book by someone I (vaguely) knew would be like.

I was pleasantly surprised! The book was only short, but you could not fly through it as you need to pay attention because the narrative jumps through time and keeps you on your toes. I was a little confused at times but got used to the way it was written.

It was an interesting story, at first appearing the mundane story of an everyday artist, but turning out in the end to be much more.

The ending in particular, with it’s peculiar resolution, made me smile and laugh out loud. Luckily I was in First Class on the train and nobody saw.

I also feel I have had an insight into Glen’s (Liam’s?) thoughts and feelings, especially his fear of marriage!

I would recommend this book to anyone, it was well written, imaginative and an excellent first novel.

Please write something else Mr Byford.



Chris Pennell
6 August 2013

waiting

here we go again

star of wiki

strange how some things all of a sudden get turned around

from writing for my local paper as a music columnist to wondering whether they'll ever print anything else from me ever again

from having good relations with my editor at glasswerk, to having a blooming amazing understanding with her successor  only for him to leave and all and any glasswerk activity to have dried up completely


but my last editor, in the brief time he was there, sent me some awesome stuff to review

when asked for musical preference i did wonder if i was giving him a tough time with my nit-picking and obtuse reply, but he just 'got' me


and for a lot of what he did for me, and for a lot of the music he sent me, i am grateful


and it is through my uber-wunderful ex-editor that i have attained one of my own personal goals

yup, if you look hard enough, you shall find me on wikipedia

ok, so it is nothing quite as spectacular as having an entire entry dedicated to me, listing my swimming awards (yellow and green), my achievements (good at Creep and This Charming Man on Singstar) and my allegiances (Monster Munch Fan Club and Dennis The Menace Fan Club) but it is still pretty amazing to think that somehow i have made a contribution to the world that was considered worthy of record on the ever-growing, ever-expanding and ever-omnipotent wikipedia

what it is in fact is my opinion on a contribution to the world that was considered worthy of record on the ever-growing, ever-blah blah blah wikipedia

heck, this is an awfully long winded way of saying that if you read the wiki-entry for Crystal Fighters 'Star Of Love' album and keep on reading into the sub-category dedicated to opinions on the Deluxe version of the album, you will find my name, and a quote from my glasswerk review, that sounding out of context sounds rather negative

it sounds rather negative because it is preceded by this introduction...

'Various other reviewers have, however, commented on the re-release in a somewhat more negative light.'




argh


ok, let me clarify


i bloody love the album


it is amazing


i bloody love Crystal Fighters


they are amazing




what i am less fond of tho are pointless money-suckling re-releases that slap a bit of extra fodder onto an album


but you know what, the extra tracks are still bloomin' amazin'


and i got sent the album for free, so i didn't have to pay for it!


honestly, i'm full of positivity, i reject negativity


my real issue is the 'tacking on' of extra tracks, no matter how great they are, that are simply added on a whim in order to add extra time to an album's natural lifespan, and piss off those that bothered to shell out for it the first time round




all this is kind of by the by


and a little outdated


and a little rambling








................................






hey, my name's on wikipedia!!

living for The Weekender

when i first caught wind that The Weekender, the entertainment section of The Enfield Advertiser, was under threat things were a little bit hush hush... but word gets around doesn't it...

although the clues were already there, the number of pages had slowly been dwindling over the past few weeks and certain articles and features had either been shuffled elsewhere or were tellingly conspicuous by their absense

which i wouldn't have brought into question if i hadn't known that my own music article had been submitted and yet The Advertiser went for a good couple of weeks (or was it three?) without a single music article appearing


when this type of thing happens i slow up a little, but the week before last the entertainment editor chased me up for a piece since something else he had been waiting on had fallen through, i swiftly finished off my piece dealing with The Fett's debut album

so what happens last week when i take a peek into the paper? The Weekender, apparently, and i quote, 'your number one leisure and lifestyle guide', was a paltry three pages long, and the article i had been hurried on had been replaced with an offer for toby carvery

it was after this sorry excuse for a leisure guide had been published (minus its usual music reviews, fashion features, kids club, cinema reviews and listings, and theatre and resteraunt reviews) that the editor informed me of the sorry state of affairs he was facing...

that The Weekender's days seemed to be numbered

now i'm not entirely sure if this was supposed to be public knowledge, and i drafted and submitted my own letter to express my disapointment, but i wondered whether this would make any difference at all

i know many people i know, band members and music fans alike turn to the centre pages before anything else, but how on earth will the powers that be know this if nobody tells them, and how will people need to know that there is something to fight for if they are unaware that it is in jeopardy

so i put news of this situation on facebook, where it was soon causing quite a stir not just between friends, but also among people that are outside of my own social circle, but obviously care enough to make their voices heard and express their opinion

so if you want to join in and make a bit of a fuss and hopefully make a difference then take a look facebookwards, and more importantly, make your voice heard by contacting The Enfield Advertiser by email on letters.enfield@nlhnews.co.uk 


and this isn't a fight for me, this won't affect my livelihood, i have a full time job that pays the bills and all my contributions to the paper have been voluntary, but other peoples jobs are at risk if The Weekender is scrapped, and i also fear that it is unlikely that Enfield's bands and Enfield gigs would ever have the same exposure ever again...


i only write because i love it, i was doing it on this blog long before i had been taken on by the Advertiser, giving a mention to music of the local and not-so-local kind, and the loss of The Weekender wouldn't stop me writing either


but i felt that it would be a blow to Enfield's music scene if it lost such a well recognised and well distributed platform 




so again, if this matters to you or anyone they know, please take a look at facebook and find a little time to contact the paper on letters.enfield@nlhnews.co.uk 


thank you

street spirit 6

and now for the final installment of the inaugarel Street Spirit fanzine that never realy made it out of the traps

some out of date live reviews, some out of date track reviews and a possibly slightly fictitious interview with The General (of babyshambles infamy)







credit where its due:

live reviews: Glen Byford and Jaylee Miguel
live photos: Ian Byford and Aiden Austin

track reviews: Glen Byford and Deano Sharp

General Interview: Deano Sharp

street spirit 4

today i bring you Street Spirit's cover story, a feature and interview with The Super Nashwan Kids, obviously bear in mind that the article is now over a year old and that any information there-in is hardly up-to-date

enjoy



click article to enlarge

credit where its due:

article and page design by Glen Byford
photography by Ian Byford

street spirit 2

welcome back for page 4 and 5 of last years doomed fanzine, Street Spirit...

below we have articles on Enfield Funksters, Fuzzy Logic, and an overview of '08's Camden Crawl






click on articles for a larger view

credit where it's due:

Fuzzy Logic;
article by Carly Twyne
photography by Ian Byford
design by Mike Love Korner

Camden Crawl;
article, photography and page design by Glen Byford