Adventures in Post-Rock: Explosions in the Sky at Concorde 2

A while ago I mentioned one of my new favourite bands Do Make Say Think, having just purchased their latest offering, You You're a History in Rust, which has since become one of my most consistently listened-to albums. In a similar vein to DMST are Explosions in the Sky, a Texan instrumental four-piece whose rousing cinematic style falls into the so-called 'post-rock' category. While I'm not usually inclined to pigeon-hole anything, least of all music, there has been a distinct, if accidental, movement emerging over the last ten years or so, which can be loosely traced back to quirky jazz-electro-proggers Tortoise. A refreshing contrast to much of the bland and vacuous indie bands currently invading the airwaves, the absence of any vocals makes this style of music both absorbing and anonymous, and often more deeply affecting than even the most poignant of lyrics. Like classical music for the rock generation, the listener is encouraged to drift off on personal flights of fancy, rather than being drawn vicariously into the singer’s projected experiences. I can feel myself about to launch into a major rant at this point, but will refrain from doing so, as I believe the music speaks for itself. I had originally only intended to post the above picture, taken at Concorde 2 on Wednesday night, where the afrorementioned Explosions in the Sky delivered a spine-tingling live performance to a rapt audience, from which I left feeling both bruised and exhilarated. Oh, and they also had really cool and unusually subtle band T-shirts on sale, so I bought one for Ant, as compensation for the fact that he couldn't make it to the gig, as he was in Brussels.

Recommended Listening

What, No People?

After spending all of Saturday night photograhing pirates and wenches (see previous post), I was less than enthusiastic about doing my landscape photography homework on Sunday, ready for my second class of the course. I find it hard to inject energy into a composition without people, or at the very least, animals in it. But I am enthusiatic about learning to use my camera, and becoming a better photographer, so understand that this is all part of the process. To make matters even more difficult, the weather was pretty dire all weekend, the Downs shrouded in fog, and everything remotely landscapey looking rather grey and dull. My best bet was to head for the woods, where I might at least find some interesting textures, and hopefully some moss, to inject a bit of colour into my shots. So we drove out past Lewes, armed with the OS map, and took a chance on the first bit of accesible woodland, which happened to be near Chailey. It was certainly more colourful in the woods - the damp weather making everything look lush and vibrant. There was moss aplenty, of every kind, and some striking orange lichen to boot. I even managed to snap some lively geese, though unfortunately that particular photo was out of focus. It was frustrating not being able to delete the duff shots, but again, a good discipline to observe, enabling one to analyse what went wrong afterwards. Out of the 20 shots, I was really only content with one of them, though the rest were mostly OK. Our next assignment is 'urban landscapes', which I guess could be interpreted in a number of ways - I suppose at least one is more likely to see actual people in an urban setting! So, while I put some thought into potential locations for my next project, here's the one half decent snap I took on Markstakes Common:

Born Pirate

Piratechno, Komedia, 19th Jan 08

Last Friday was set to be my big comeback into the world of clubbing, after a protracted absence since the accident. I'd been psyching myself up all week, all month in fact, for a girlie evening of cocktails and dancing at Brighton's best retro night, Born Bad at Komedia. But my immune system had other ideas - landing me with yet another stinking cold and having to cancel my plans at the last minute. I was relieved, if a little frustrated, that said cold had conveniently disappeared by Saturday morning (why couldn't it have abated just one night earlier?!). But thankfully all hope of a sociable weekend was not completely lost - and I set about digging out my corset and stripes for a pirate-themed night hosted by swashbuckling troubadours, Piratechno. Boasting genuine pirate blood (according to my stepmother, the genealogist), my fondness for all things piratical runs deep, and I never feel more at home than with a bottle of rum in my hand, decked out in the flamoyantly theatrical clobber popularly associated with these sea-faring fiends (see previous evidence here and here). I was delighted to discover a whole room full of equally enthusiatically-garbed punters skulking around the suitably dingy back bar at Komedia, making me feel instantly at home. Being armed with a conspicuous camera in a room full of exhibitionists always seems to be a great way of making friends, so there I was - snapping away, occaisionally stopping to have a jig along with the crazy dancing wenches - utterly in my element, thinking, 'why can't every night be Pirate Night?'

Back to School

It'll be ten years this summer since I graduated from university, and apart from the odd work training course, I've done little in the way of formal learning since those happy years studying at Roehampton. So it was a bit of a shock to the system to find myself re-entering the pedagogical environment last night, for the first class of my photography course at Varndean college. I'd signed up last year, after giving in to the digital revolution and getting myself a swanky Nikon D40x digital SLR camera - having been previously happy with my trusty old Olympus OM10 (which I do still use by the way). My recent foray into gig photography necessitated the change, and having access to endless photographic books and magazines via my work, I was eventually convinced to make the transition. Overwhelmed by the amount of functions and unused potential of the new digital beast, I went in search of help online, and stumbled across an evening class entitled 'Creative Digital SLR Photography' which seemed absolutely perfect for my needs. I also let my friend and flickr buddy Shaun know about the course, as he'd recently acquired a Canon EOS 350D, and felt, like me, that he wasn't making the best use of it (although I happen to think that his photos are already far superior to mine - partly because he's also more savvy with the photoshop trickery!). Our first lesson was mostly a general introduction to the course, and a chance for the teacher to assess what people were hoping to get from it, but already I'm feeling inspired, and raring to get snapping for our first assignment. We've been tasked with taking 20 photos, in succession, with no editing or deleting - the subject being 'landscape'. This is a slightly intimidating prospect for me, being much more of a people photographer, but I shall certainly rise to the challenge with new-found enthusiasm. Meanwhile, here's a rare landscape snap of mine from a recent holiday, taken in the picturesque town of Bouillon, Belgium, first thing in the morning:

More photos from our wonderful pre-Christmas jaunt can be seen on my flickr page: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowstar/sets/72157603558215940

Bad Tapas

After so much hardcore partying over the festive season, I was quite relieved when Jo decided to opt for the more civilised option of a sit down meal for her birthday celebrations at the weekend. Her first choice - the wonderfully rustic Casa Don Carlos in the Lanes - was fully booked, so she’d taken a chance on Pinxto People, a swish-looking upmarket tapas place on Western Road. Intrigued by its modern take on traditional Spanish food, and impressed with the stylish décor, we were keen to sample the fayre. Sadly it seemed that the staff were not so eager to satisfy our expectations, and were officious to the point of rudeness from the outset. Challenging our ability to choose our own dishes and trying to pressure us into accepting their own selection (at a suggested £40 a head) our waiter immediately put our collective backs up – perhaps not realising what a feisty bunch of discerning foodies he was dealing with. His second mistake was in withholding our wine until seeing fit to refill our glasses – a situation we soon rectified in an amusing covert operation that involved whisking the bottle from a neighbouring table when no one was looking, and stashing it under the table. All very entertaining, but not necessarily what one would expect to occur during a supposedly slap-up meal. When our food finally arrived, there was a general disbelief at the size of portions, bearing in mind that most of the meat dishes came in at around £12.

Style over substance

My veggie options were limited (admittedly more so by my ongoing dental problems), and my chosen ‘Txick (get it?) peas and fake txorizo (groan) with goat cheese’ resembled nothing more than a tin of chick peas poured onto a plate and vaguely seasoned, with a tiny blob of cheese at each corner - and tasted just as disappointing. The others were generally unimpressed with their meat and fish choices, which were on the whole a classic case of style over substance. I am not against the idea of experimental cuisine in principle, but it can be tricky to pull off, especially with something as traditionally comforting as tapas. Give me the rustic dishes and cheerful staff at Casa Don Carlos or La Tapa De Oro (previously Ipanema) any day. Minimalist tapas just doesn’t work. Post dinner cocktails at Koba across the road helped raise everyone’s spirits after such an unsatisfactory dining experience, and the company at least was consistently excellent all night.

Seasick!

On Saturday night I celebrated my 32^nd birthday exactly two months late. The delay was down to my bicycle accident back in August, when I fractured my jaw in two places, rendering me unable to party for a while. Having been such a long time coming, and being my first big social occasion since the accident, the sense of anticipation was stronger than for the average party – I was excited and nervous, not least because I had no idea whether my stamina would last out the night. But despite sporting ridiculously high-heeled boots in which it was virtually impossible to walk - let alone dance - and a restrictively tight corset that led to several light-headed episodes, I had a ball! All my friends had risen to the challenge of the theme (Seasick!) with admirable imagination and enthusiasm, making for an impressive array of costumes and characters, and a fantastically silly atmosphere. Some live folk music from The Unisexuals, a misfortune telling booth, a tattoo parlour, and some ‘Stick It On’ type DJ-ing, all helped the night go off with a bang, and by all accounts, a good time was had by all - especially me.

Music is the New Religion: Iron & Wine at St George's

A couple of weeks ago I went to see Iron & Wine at St George's church in my local village of Kemp Town. This still functional place of worship also serves as one of the best live music venues in Brighton - used regularly by top promoters Melting Vinyl to showcase an eclectic offering of alternative bands and artists. As well as boasting an amazing acoustic, thanks to its beautiful barrel vaulted ceiling, the church affords an unrivalled atmosphere that can turn a great gig into an almost spiritual experience. I'm pretty confident that the place never attracts such a prodigious crowd in respect of its primary religious function (other than possibly at Christmas), and I personally find it pleasing that in a time of widespread spiritual apathy, this lovely building has found another means to inspire the masses. Perhaps the most memorable moment of the gig, and a testament to the warm-fuzzy feeling engendered by the surroundings, was an amusingly middle-class and unusually friendly heckle between songs, when someone shouted: "This is brilliant, thanks" - a refreshing change from the typically inarticulate, and often disparaging cries, to which any regular gig-goer will have become accustomed. And it was certainly a most justified exclamation, judging by the collective whoops of agreement, which included my own enthusiastic seal of approval.

Hurrah for the Underdog

Last night I went to see Wicked for the third time - a Halloween outing organised by the lovely Neel, and a (very) belated birthday treat from me to Jo. I shall refrain from waxing lyrical about the show itself, as I have already blogged about it excessively, but I wanted to give well-deserved a nod to Cassidy Janson - the current Elphaba understudy - who was standing in for Kerry Ellis last night. Much of the cast has changed since Wicked opened in the West End just over a year ago, when the awesome Idina Menzel stole the show in the leading role. I was delighted to witness in Janson much that was lacking from (Menzel's successor) Ellis's execution of this intimidatingly demanding part - most notably a refreshing humility which suited the underdog nature of the role. Ellis had seemed too self-consciously starry when I saw her earlier this year, and also irritated the hell out of me with her grating Americanisation of the songs. Janson managed to avoid this trap, into which many British performers seem to fall these days - for which she scores huge brownie points in my critical eyes. Her diminuitve physical presence was more than made up for by a natural stage-presence that brought the necessary weight to the complex character of the wicked (or is she?) witch. So, hurrah for the underdog... or in this case, the understudy!

Cassidy Janson singing No Good Deed from Wicked