Saturday 1 October 2011
30 years from Brixton
How should we feel on the 30th anniversary of the Brixton riots?
Cyrus Shahrad doesn’t know the answer. A long-time resident of the area, Cyrus – aka DJ Hiatus – is a journalist and musician whose preoccupation for the last weeks and months has been disseminating Brixton’s riots with eyes on its uncertain future.
The chiselled 32 year old Iranian joins me in central London, heavy eyes a window to lonesome 12 hour days in a studio and typing up the latest addition to his Brixton portfolio: a piece on the riots for The Guardian.
“As a journalist I was aiming to draw attention to how good things are; how much things had improved in Brixton. It surprised me to find out people aren’t all that happy and people aren’t that optimistic.”
London Riots – We’re missing the point
Normally we can cite race, gender, politics, money or sex. But this riot is explicable only in its confusion.
Published: Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The problem with being a small editorial team is clear on a day like today. All too regularly – acknowledging we haven’t the equipment to keep up with the news outlets – by the time one fullstops a piece of social vommitary, it has ceased to be newsworthy and, written off as a poor use of resource, it is thrown it into the unprofitable/ unjustified pile.
Starting in Tottenham/ Seven Sisters for fathomable reasons owing to the death-by-police of Mark Duggan, phase two was so sporadic, and unflinchingly relentless, it bore little to suggest an organised march of the underclass, the cries of the alienated, or attempts by the disenfranchised to challenge the socio-political status quo.
Published: Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The problem with being a small editorial team is clear on a day like today. All too regularly – acknowledging we haven’t the equipment to keep up with the news outlets – by the time one fullstops a piece of social vommitary, it has ceased to be newsworthy and, written off as a poor use of resource, it is thrown it into the unprofitable/ unjustified pile.
Starting in Tottenham/ Seven Sisters for fathomable reasons owing to the death-by-police of Mark Duggan, phase two was so sporadic, and unflinchingly relentless, it bore little to suggest an organised march of the underclass, the cries of the alienated, or attempts by the disenfranchised to challenge the socio-political status quo.
For Amy: Addiction is a disease, and it is terminal
Brand’s eulogy in The Guardian is being hailed as a beautiful tribute to his comrade, and indeed is a learned contribution to a much-needed addiction debate which Guardian columnist Tanya Gold - along with a spectrum of vacant to insightful opinion columns - introduced yesterday.
In this meta world we live in, Russell Brand’s article has spawned written e-kudos, such as this which you are reading I guess, where writers of varying levels of informedness laud his note-perfect response to what we’re told is a sudden, but not unsurprising end.
But the rhetoric used by secondary commentators, and what I’m starting to find increasingly frustrating, is starting to read like the great discourse of the ill-informed.
Friday 30 September 2011
A Night with A Badge of Friendship
A former Biffy Clyro photographer and a once comedy production assistant discuss music in a quaint London pub a world away from our shared homeland of Glasgow.
Paul McCallum and Claire Lim live and breathe the stuff – and each other – and are the quietly confident couple behind the bustling hub of online music PR, management, and events that is their company: A Badge of Friendship.
The book of death dates
Would you look to see when your time is up?
Published: Wednesday, June 22, 2009
I’d like you to take a minute to think about your mortality. Thanks.
Every so often I am required by my own head, the mailed reminder and my mum to get the medical stamp of approval. I am being checked to see that I haven’t inherited the disease which has seen my old man disabled for most of his working life.
The human body was only ever meant to go through so much, so you can imagine the emotional roller coaster that was last Wednesday when even six cold implements protruding from my various orifices wasn’t as awful as having my testicles in the hands of a very attractive locum and not being able to celebrate this in the usual way. Ah Dr Cook take me in your latex hands once more. Cough.
Published: Wednesday, June 22, 2009
I’d like you to take a minute to think about your mortality. Thanks.
Every so often I am required by my own head, the mailed reminder and my mum to get the medical stamp of approval. I am being checked to see that I haven’t inherited the disease which has seen my old man disabled for most of his working life.
The human body was only ever meant to go through so much, so you can imagine the emotional roller coaster that was last Wednesday when even six cold implements protruding from my various orifices wasn’t as awful as having my testicles in the hands of a very attractive locum and not being able to celebrate this in the usual way. Ah Dr Cook take me in your latex hands once more. Cough.
The day I turned gay, and became a serial killer
“He always loved cushions…I should have known". I like cushions
Published: Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Its seems to be indicative of the human condition when we relate symptoms to what conditions we may have as humans. Fact. When we observe the health sections in topical favourites like Glamour or Vogue - those high-brow numbers – we digest whatever symptoms they allude to in describing the designer disease of the moment.
Just last week I was reading a copy of a woman’s magazine and I’m pretty sure I don’t have the abola virus. To my knowledge my organs haven’t liquified and come hurtling out my arse at a rate of knots. In fact it was fallout from the latest night out.
We all do it, we read about some in-vogue disease and develop the symptoms mid-article. I’ve diagnosed Tourette’s from motherf*cking, dickphantic, nostil shagging mags.
Published: Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Its seems to be indicative of the human condition when we relate symptoms to what conditions we may have as humans. Fact. When we observe the health sections in topical favourites like Glamour or Vogue - those high-brow numbers – we digest whatever symptoms they allude to in describing the designer disease of the moment.
Just last week I was reading a copy of a woman’s magazine and I’m pretty sure I don’t have the abola virus. To my knowledge my organs haven’t liquified and come hurtling out my arse at a rate of knots. In fact it was fallout from the latest night out.
We all do it, we read about some in-vogue disease and develop the symptoms mid-article. I’ve diagnosed Tourette’s from motherf*cking, dickphantic, nostil shagging mags.
Cowboys and Aliens – Jon Favreau
It gets two stars for its balls, the rest of it was balls
Published: Friday, August 12, 2011
It’s difficult to see this film failing financially. Critically is another matter.
Merging the increasingly unfashionable western genre with the alien sci-fi staple may dissuade die-hards from partaking, but will entice a stupendous plain of open-minded cinema goers.
Add James Bond, Han Solo and Indiana Jones to the brew and the $100m budget looks like it will be safely restored.
But it is a risky project from director Jon Favreau. Joss Whedon’s FireFly – and subsequently Serenity – did something similar but blatant crossover films, not just those including foreign elements or nodding at other-genre influences, are a rare breed.
A spate of graphic-novel-to-big screen efforts have come through in the last ten years merging love stories with fantasy, coming of age and kids’ films with sci-fi, crime and revenge (Kick-Ass, Sin City, Scott Pilgrim) – this formula has since been indoctrinated onto the pages of the cinematic How To.
Sure, action films often mix romantic comedy elements, sci-fi gorefests may include sexy or dramatic plotlines. Shaun of the Dead mixed romance and zombies. Tarantino’s Kill Bill mixed a bunch of influences splicing revenge, fantasy, slasher, drama, love, and spans continents as well as genres.
But the idea of mixing such – excuse the pun – alien concepts requires balls the size of buffalo. Always helps to get Blade Runner involved though.
Published: Friday, August 12, 2011
It’s difficult to see this film failing financially. Critically is another matter.
Merging the increasingly unfashionable western genre with the alien sci-fi staple may dissuade die-hards from partaking, but will entice a stupendous plain of open-minded cinema goers.
Add James Bond, Han Solo and Indiana Jones to the brew and the $100m budget looks like it will be safely restored.
But it is a risky project from director Jon Favreau. Joss Whedon’s FireFly – and subsequently Serenity – did something similar but blatant crossover films, not just those including foreign elements or nodding at other-genre influences, are a rare breed.
A spate of graphic-novel-to-big screen efforts have come through in the last ten years merging love stories with fantasy, coming of age and kids’ films with sci-fi, crime and revenge (Kick-Ass, Sin City, Scott Pilgrim) – this formula has since been indoctrinated onto the pages of the cinematic How To.
Sure, action films often mix romantic comedy elements, sci-fi gorefests may include sexy or dramatic plotlines. Shaun of the Dead mixed romance and zombies. Tarantino’s Kill Bill mixed a bunch of influences splicing revenge, fantasy, slasher, drama, love, and spans continents as well as genres.
But the idea of mixing such – excuse the pun – alien concepts requires balls the size of buffalo. Always helps to get Blade Runner involved though.
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