Outside cover by Tim Hill
Inside cover by Walter Hugo
ARTHUR AND ALBERT “Celebrate or Ignore” Within our relentlessly rumbling metropolis, both calmed and baked by this unusually hot summer, Arthur And Albert Magazine has made its first fledgling steps. Our aim, as you may already know, is to unfurl the creativity in the multitude of underworlds snuggled and shaded around us and expose it for all to enjoy. To raise the perpetrators and products of these creative minds up high, and to celebrate with all our might that which demands exaltation. We have indeed uncovered and chanced upon a multitude of treasures residing all around this wonderful town, and way beyond. This is our second issue, and we continue to dance under the burgeoning banner of this delightful subject matter. There is so much to see, breathe, wear, tap our feet to and indulge our thoughts in all around us. The fabric of our city has creativity woven into its seams, and its offerings are not solely confined to the areas of artistry that we expect them to be. We have also paid particular dues to those whose everyday roles disguise the part that they play in adding to the inspiration and diversity of our existences. Since setting our sights so high, we have been overwhelmed with the positive response to the ‘Celebrate Or Ignore’ ethos. It seems that this is a line of thought that many hold close to their heart. Thanks to all of you who have offered your support, sent us your delightful work, and celebrated with us. If you would like to be involved, we are open to submissions.
Journey
Sky Train Words: Rachel Williams Image: Danny Hall
Shoreditch High Street, that grey hulking station, does not exactly sit prettily on the road. Entering, it’s light and airy, but once on the platform it feels rather dim. No matter. Watching the LED display, counting down the minutes and the seconds until the train arrives. This is a station for people-watching. Who are these passengers and where are they going? As I wait, I invent their stories to kill time until it’s my turn to leave. I board the train, pick my window seat carefully, luxuriate in the air conditioning and begin my journey towards Dalston.
It still seems quite dark as the train pulls away from the station; passengers chat on their phones, clutch their bikes, munch their food and read the abandoned freesheets. Suddenly, we’re hit with the view. The noise level in the carriage lowers audibly.
tunnel into the dazzling view, as the sunlight reflects off millions of mirrored windows.
I crane my neck for a closer view. The cluster of shining pillars in the Square Mile evokes no interest in architectural design in me, nor do I consider them colossal beacons of Maybe it’s something about elevated railway commerce. No, to me they are a symbol of lines that makes us feel like we’re hurtling into an change. Watching them rise out of the earth exciting, science fiction-like future, or maybe into unusual glass shapes serves as a daily it’s just that no one could fail to be amazed by reminder that this city, though ancient, the glass beauty of the Gherkin or the wintery is in a constant state of flux, and just like charm of Broadgate Tower. Whatever it is, the view I see before me, I too can change you feel a jolt coming from the darkness of the and shape my landscape how I see fit.
Playlist
Playlist 1987 Intro: Tiger Brown and Ed Lilo Words: Conan Image: Philip Dennis
Conan Roberts is the brains behind label/ distribution outfit Italian Beach Babes, a venture borne of frustration with the lack of labels releasing the English bands he loves. Three years later, he’s still releasing and distributing 100% awesome straight outta (his flat in) Dalston. Saviour to people with generally rad taste (think anything on Captured Tracks, Zoo Music, Art Fag and Make A Mess) but no money, Roberts’ invaluable service means releases from the aforementioned labels no longer carry overdraft-unfriendly shipping costs to anyone with a British postcode. These join super-limited, self-financed releases from bros like Mazes, Dirty Beaches and Male Bonding, as well as a split 12” in conjunction with Paradise Vendors starring Graffiti Island, Not Cool, Fair Ohs and a heap more. Youth of Today – Positive Outlook Ray Cappo is a twerp but the dude has an amazing voice for hardcore. As YOT played all ages shows and I was seven at the time, if I lived in NY I could have theoretically gone to see them play. It would have been awesome; I would have been terrified. Beastie Boys – No Sleep Till Brooklyn One of my all time favourite bands. They are responsible for pretty much everything awesome and cool I’ve been into since I was 14.
Black Flag – Wasted Um, this didn’t come out in 1987 obviously, but it did appear on a compilation at the time. In my opinion the greatest punk band that has existed thus far. R.E.M – The One I Love R.E.M. remind me of rainy drives to our family caravan in Mid Wales as a kid. My dad would play Green and Out of Time a lot on those drives and they were two of the records I stole from his collection when I left home. Tim Cappello – I Still Believe Lost Boys is okay, a cool movie I guess, some cool outfits too. But Tim Cappello playing saxophone topless, ripped and covered in chains makes that film unforgettable to me. Dude has incredible hip movements too! MARRS – Pump Up The Volume I remember this coming out when I was in school. It would get played at school dances and kids would wig out. Prince – Sign O’ The Times Prince was a very formative part of my youth and musical knowledge growing up. My parents were crazy into Prince and had Prince parties pretty regularly. It was the first concert I ever went to, I was 11 and it blew my mind. Actually, as I write this I’m wearing the shirt I bought from the show that still fits, kind of.
The Communards – Don’t Leave Me This Way Fucking love this song. When the piano kicks in halfway through... it rules! I sold Jimmy Somerville a pair of beige trousers once, I was so excited. I’ve never been to somewhere like G-A-Y but I have this image in my head that it would be loads of skinny dudes in ill-fitting chinos and tight, white tucked-in t-shirts with short cropped hair dancing like Jimmy to this song. I’m pretty sure I’m way off the mark there but if it is, I wanna go! Public Image Limited – Seattle First heard this on a BMX video strangely enough. My dad had been trying to get me into PiL for ages but I was too busy listening to Korn and NOFX. It took me a while but I got it in the end. Thanks again Dad. Descendents – All Pretty much the reason pop punk exists. We have so much to thank them for. Where would this world be without pop punk?! If that sounds as good as Conan makes it sound then purchase some of it at his digital store selling physical music: italianbeachbabes.bigcartel.com
The Forager’s Spoils Words: Charlotte McManus Images: Gabriel Love
Treasure. Casting the initial piratical imagery of doubloons, jewels and booty aside, the accepted idea of ‘treasure’ is an object signifying value, an item that is precious. But can the notion of treasure be confined solely to goods of monetary value? Treasure can be used as a more exploratory term and applied to more conventional, everyday items, outside the realm of expensive goods. Just take a wander down to marketplaces in Deptford, Greenwich and Spitalfields, where these offerings are in abundance. Most of us have heard the old adage, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure; I’d contend that treasure, hugely personal and undeniably subjective as it is, is what you make it. Nowhere does the sentiment seem more apt than on a shopping trip to one of London’s many marketplaces, which have satisfied countless generations of treasure hunters - even those with the oddest and most obscure of tastes. No matter who you are, regardless of what it is you’re looking for, London’s markets prove to be
invaluable sources of potential finds. Taking on board this all-encompassing, all-embracing approach in regards to what treasure is, what it really means to people and how they go about finding it. I turned investigator to discover some of the ways in which London’s market stall holders get their hands on the goods. I soon found that the concept of unearthing items that hold second-hand emotional value is one that ranks highly among treasurehunters, with many shoppers intentionally on the lookout for objects holding significance and history rather than just attractive finds. “It’s not about getting things that are worth a lot for cheap. I love finding souvenirs of relationships, places - discovering things that meant a lot to someone else,” says Danny, a Spitalfields stallholder. He holds up a delicate, faded lace handkerchief, encased in protective plastic and bearing the expression, ‘To My Sweetheart’.
“This for example, was made by one of the soldiers in the First World War, for his wife or girlfriend back home. Can you imagine how much it would have meant to him making it, or to her, if she ever got it? It’s completely unique, something very rare.” Though initially unremarkable in its appearance and monetary value. In addition to antiques such as these, it is interesting to see how articles such as old photographs and postcards, which to the untrained eye only hold sentimental significance to their original owners, can later become treasure in strangers’ hands. Frank and Sylvia, a married couple in their sixties, are two market shoppers following this trend who confess to spending much of their time eagerly perusing boxes of faded photographs and yellowing letters. “Black and white photos bring back memories for us, y’see,” says Frank, indicating images depicting parties, dinners and Christmases. “They bring lost people and places back into our lives, things we never thought
we’d see again,” Sylvia chips in. “What’s really amazing is that even though the faces change, a lot of it is all the same! Weddings and things - the clothes and hair might be different, but when you look at them you think, ‘That’s my Mum, that could be my Nan.’” In their search for reminders of bygone times, the theme of finding treasure in emotionally charged artifacts arises again. In Frank and Sylvia’s case, unearthing images and written keepsakes of the ‘40s and ‘50s carries them back to vistas of their childhood: what else could be worth treasuring, if not that?
“everything’s so throwaway now,” with modern chain stores pumping out mass articles that are made to break. In her view, anything worth keeping should have a quality that makes them last, one that “you can’t get with new stuff.” Emma agrees, bluntly rejecting the concept that anything mass-produced for retail outlets could have the same kind of enduring charm as her own hoard of treasures, comprised mostly of vintage clothes and furniture. “I love old objects with integrity, a history. I get pleasure out of looking at beautiful things, like my fabrics, lamps, clothes - they look wonderful and are so beautifully made.”
In addition to items carrying sentimental or historic worth, I found that some treasure hunters, such as local artists Sophie and Emma, are compelled to seek out items with lasting power. “I’ve always been attached to taxidermy, old bones… things with a physicality to them,” says Sophie. Gesturing to the myriad animal skulls and pressed insects on the stall in front of her, she describes her unhappiness at how
Also religiously following this pursuit for treasure is student Jessica, with her love of all things second-hand. She maintains that buying things at markets is “guilt-free shopping”. “You’re not spending money on throwaway items that you bought on an impulse and won’t last long, you’re getting something that means something.” She describes some of her favourite finds, including old boots, dresses and butterfly collections: “My treasures are
things I really like and know that I won’t come across again. Some of my stuff has lasted 50, 60, maybe even 70 years or more. It was made to last. You don’t get that any more, really.” When asked what she enjoys about searching for, in her words, “magic discoveries”, she replies: “The whole process of finding things is so exciting when you find something really good, and even if you do have a bad day and don’t manage to find anything worth taking home, it’s exciting just to look.” Coming across an approach to material procurement that shuns the 21st century culture of disposable consumption and instant gratification at breakneck speeds is refreshing. In their tireless combing of London’s many stalls, these treasure hunters are seeking to unearth items with an altogether more durable and profound worth than those fashioned for the latest craze. If you’re reading this now, and haven’t yet tapped into the wonderful array of treasures that London’s markets have to offer… what are you waiting for?
Danny Words: Martina Randles In the beginning there just was Mark - he specialises in old lights, Second World War stuff and bigger pieces. Then Adam and Mickey came along. Their thing is human bones, guns, anything dead. Finally came Danny, who’s “just learning” and says he’s the luckiest man in the world. Inside this protected, untapped world, there is a whole scene flourishing, Danny explains. “It’s about keeping your ear to ground. If you want to sell a human skull, everyone knows you go see Adam and Mickey.”
recently sourced a female Native American piece made entirely of colourful feathers. “He’d had one before so he knew what it was,” says Danny. “They are really rare, worth a lot of money - and he got it.” Looking at the variety of objects on display, he explains: “Most things find a home. Sometimes you want to have things for a while and then sell them, get your use out of it - like this Covenants of Death book, it’s an anti-war book full of strong images with poetic tag lines.”
The team sells curiosities to all kinds of customers, from City types on lunch breaks to art students, interior designers and representatives from shops like All Saints. “Everything has got a price as long as there is a buyer,” they tell me. “There is always room for negotiation.”The skill is being able to ascertain an item’s age and value just by looking at it - it’s called having an ‘eye’. Adam
As traders you have to be prepared to go to do the rounds: car boot sales, fairs - Ardingly, Wimbledon, Kempton - even car parks. Danny once followed up a late night phone to a car park somewhere north of London to find a man holding a box of baboon skulls. “I handed over my money and brought them back to the boys,” he says. “They were really happy and so was I - that week I’d made a really
bad one, I’d dropped some Chinese pots which were worth a lot of money. After a few sweaty days and four baboon skulls, I’d resolved it.” For this team, treasure hunting offers a sense of belonging and even artistic expression. Danny, who is also a painter, agrees that his work is driven by love rather than the business side of things, and he recently wrote a song called ‘I Fell In With Thieves’. “I haven’t fallen in with thieves but it’s a bit like that. Recently we did this fair, and they were deciding whether to take me for a while - it was quite big thing. We made a little fire and slept under the stars on 50 rabbit skins sewn together. That song reminds me of sleeping by the fire and cutting up the proceeds of the day.” Danny Fox’s paintings will be on display from September 7th at The Gallery, Redchurch Street, E2 7DP
Peter Words: Charlotte McManus
Passing through the forest of children’s windmill toys that marks the entrance to Deptford Market, I enter a noisy world of vintage treasures, delightful second-hand finds, bizarre, confounding and sometimes hilarious pieces of stuff. Deptford Market has a perceptibly authentic atmosphere to it, crackling with energy from people and customers from every background and origin. Accompanied by the market’s resident doleful Boxer dog, I make my way round the stalls, taking in books dating back to year dot, chests of (still working?) remote controls, ancient fairground toys and ‘80s gizmos so kitsch you expect Marty McFly to zip forward in time momentarily to get them back. Having shuffled around the busy stalls for an hour or two, I’m told repeatedly by stallowners and customers alike to approach the eponymous owner of ‘Peter’s Empire’, the lead authority on all Deptford Market has to offer. It’s hard to miss him - in the midst of the odds and ends that take up a good quarter of the entire market, a bearded, smiling figure surveys his kingdom atop a stall bearing the words, ‘NO DISCOUNTS GIVEN’.
A savvy entrepreneur and patriarch of the old East End market tradition, Peter’s cheeky chappie charm immediately draws people to his ‘empire’ of second-hand furniture, jewellery, electronics, sports memorabilia, 3-D virtual reality visors… there really is something for everybody. How did such a significant trading presence first get into market selling? “Completely by accident,” he explains. “I originally started out as a surveyor. My mum was a matron at a hospital and needed me to shift a load of old, unwanted hospital bits and pieces one day. So, I set up a table in the wharf and got £15 for the lot – that was a whole week’s pay in one day’s work!” Good work if you can get it, and Peter’s stall went from strength to strength. “I sell bits of everything really – I get lots of calls from estate agents and solicitors needing old houses cleared out, and relatives of family members who have passed away who want to sell on the unwanted things left behind.” Looking over his stall, he adds: “There’s no real rhyme or reason why we get these things… and I’ll sell anything.” So what is it that makes Deptford stand out from other London markets? “That’s easy,”
Peter replies. “Deptford’s a real traditional second-hand market. There’s a rule: no new stuff is allowed to be sold here. Once new goods come in, markets lose what make them special.” Does he ever regret selling any of his goods? Peter laughs: “God, no, I’m a minimalist by nature. If you do this every day,” he says, gesturing to his sprawling empire, “you don’t want to come home to find your house filled up with it too.” So if everything can be sold on the stalls, Peter must have sold some peculiar finds? “Oh, I’ve sold some weird stuff. I used to get human skeletons in, from auctions and medical schools, before that was banned. Coffins as well - once, I lay down in one and served people from it.” But his most prized possession could well be the weirdest. “My new elephant! I bought it from the Elephant Parades,” he explains, describing the elephant sculptures that had been placed around London to raise money for the endangered species. “It lives in my garden now,” he laughs, “with my palm trees, my goats and my skeletons.”
Bridget Words: Claire Wigington
As an escape from the rat race and general daily grind, I pop down to the tiny Greenwich Market every Thursday. Around 20 stalls are laden with vintage treasures, good food and new crafts. Browsing through royal memorabilia, stuffed dead things and wonderful odds and ends always renews my vigour. On one of my many market trips I came into contact with Bridget. Though not exactly the market’s matriarch - she doesn’t take herself that seriously - Bridget’s a strong female presence in a trade that often seems male-dominated. We first met while I was buying some vintage silk scarves. She wooed and cooed over the pieces I picked up, among them an Indian cotton piece, a ‘50s Liberty print gem and a St Michael deco design, sold way before the Twiggy years. Bridget is warm and friendly with a distinct bohemian air. “I travelled around a lot when I was younger with my parents, which was
quite strange in the ‘60s. I mean, people think everyone was a hippy in the ‘60s but it really wasn’t as common as people make out.” It was here that Bridget first began to cling onto objects. “I never really had many belongings and I remember clearly visiting my aunt and her giving me a butterfly brooch. It wasn’t anything special, value wise, but to me it was perfect, beautiful. Just to own something so delicate, so grown up.” So Bridget went from owning nothing to, well, many things. Her scarves sit alongside clip-on earrings, coloured glass, tea sets and ‘40s condiment jars. She’s vague about how she came into the market trade and gathered her collection of treasure. With murmurs of needing to “make ends meet” and just “loving beautiful things.” “I have to have a feeling about an object,” she explains in a dreamy voice. “I go to charity shops, boot sales, and I have some contacts which I have picked up along the way, but I
only buy things I believe in. Things I know I can sell with an honest heart, which I pass on to people who will appreciate them.” And do the people here at Greenwich appreciate them? “Absolutely. As well as the students and regulars there’s plenty of tourists as passing trade who want a trinket from their London holiday. Just to think that an object I have sold them, passed on to them, will ever remind them of this great city - it makes me feel as if I am now a part of their future, of their retelling of their London experience.” Bridget’s enthusiastic yet wistful demeanour puts me in a melancholy mood. Does it make her sad to part with these objects? “Sometimes, but I don’t see it as selling the things I love but giving the chance for others to love them.” And with that I pick up a pair of ‘80s gold clip-ons and skip back to the day job, a little piece of Bridget in my pocket.
Time to put in the Black Blotchy Bits Words: Will Exley and Robert Phoenix
Illustrator Will Exley and artist Rob Phoenix first met through mutual friends while living in Brighton. With the sun shining, they got together for tea and a chat near their London studios. Rob: We have very different work spaces. What do you do in your studio? Will: I spend a lot of time sending emails! My work is illustration more than art and I find I work a lot better with something to do. I’m not so good with coming up with endeavours I issue to myself so I have to spend a lot of time actually getting work. I prefer to have something to grasp, whether it be a record sleeve or a t-shirt or something else. I like having that starting point; it
gives it a certain sense of what it could be to be a successful image at the end. Rob: Is that to do with security? I think one of the difficult things I find in painting is not having an inclination of an end point. There’s always that question, ‘Is it finished?’ I’ll think it’s finished and then realise that it’s not finished. Also, having recently gone through a period of change in my work, my perception of what a finished painting is has changed massively. What were finished paintings are now just bad paintings. Will: That’s a pretty nebulous thing to try to grapple with. Rob: That can become part of the work -
making paintings about making a painting. Will: For me, it’s definitely to do with security. I often feel when looking at other people’s work that I’m obviously looking at finished work only because it’s someone else’s. You can wonder too much about when things will come into alignment. I always think exasperation’s quite a good finisher. When you’ve got a deadline there’s a point where you think, ‘There’s no more I can do on this,’ and you let go a lot more easily. Rob: Do you have to let go of work you’re not completely happy with? Will: Not often. Sometimes a week later I’ll realise that was totally the wrong way to
Ask An Artist
“My perception of what a finished painting is has changed massively. What were finished paintings are now just bad paintings”
do it. I’m working on ideas and concepts to start with which then get approved and I then have to work on the final image. Each of these sections has its weigh points; it does feel like the longer I do it the better I get at recognising those weigh points. In front of the computer I can get quite specific: I’ve drawn this section so now’s the time to put in the black blotchy bits, now’s the time to put in the little dashes, now’s the time to put in the weird photocopy effect. Rob: Haha! Yeah, I sometimes have the same thing while painting: now it’s time for the flat colour, now for the slightly messy, slightly hard-edged lines, now for the gestural painterly marks. Will: How you guide your way through, it’s like a second language.
Rob: You have quite a particular style to your work. Will: Style’s a tricky one. Up until recently I would have said I didn’t have a style. But I’m also aware that that’s perhaps down to being the person making it, it can be hard to see. It’s only recently I now try and have a sense of consistency. Comics are my main source of inspiration and in my head I’m happy if I’ve managed to combine something cartoonlike with something with a realistic bent to it, that’s what I’m going for in my head. Rob: Sure, I find as well that my work can often be trying to bring together different, sometimes opposing, visual ideas. Will: Yes, definitely.
Rob: I guess we both have to acknowledge and deal with a massive visual history that precedes what we’re doing. Do you think that it is something we have to work alongside or maybe fight against, whilst also not treading on other artists’ toes? Will: Of course, so much has gone before and it’s important to take what that inspires and treat that with as much care as you would anything else. Those influences are as important as whatever impulse we have that would make us create something that is not inspired by our influences. www.williamexley.co.uk www.robertphoenix.co.uk
In Search of the Boom Boom Hercules and Love Affair Words: Ed Lilo Image: Chris Pell
Andy Butler is Hercules and Love Affair. “I’m a control freak,” he readily admits. He dominates the group he’s assembled: a hand picked, border-crossing, über-talented and notably, given Butler’s reputation, super-nice team of five that make up his live show, and, we’re assured, the recording process. Located at a farm in Kent, while intermittently sucking on a pearl white nicotine inhaler, Butler is adamant that we’re doing a group interview - that they’re all equals within both the band and the creative process. But when I ask where Hercules and Love Affair began, he responds: “I’m going to have to answer that.” Because, of course, it is his band. “I was just making music in my bedroom, I had a couple of pieces of equipment, a couple of creative people in New York. One happened to be Antony Hegarty.” Despite my being warned not to mention the latter - of ‘and the Johnsons’ fame - Butler drops him into the conversation almost immediately. “I would write these songs, and be like, ‘Could you sing on this song I did?’ and he would, and so that was ‘Blind’.” Despite being hesitant to probe an obviously still-open wound, Butler reveals more about Hegarty. “Obviously Antony’s presence on the record was an issue. A good and a bad one. But still an issue. It was great because his voice was amazing, he added so much to the record both aesthetically and just beautifully. But it was an issue because Antony is his own person and blah blah blah y’know.” Not exactly. “Well, I guess the main point was he couldn’t tour and
had all his own things going on and couldn’t do the live thing and...” Butler tails off. The issue of Antony is a fundamental one to Hercules and Love Affair. While their protonu-disco is both accomplished and critically adored, one imagines that without a lucky break it could easily have remained a New York-centric phenomenon. Yet with Antony, issues and all, they became flag bearers for the world-spanning disco revival. And how did they manage this? “I spent five years making music, getting various vocalists to lend their voices, but just for fun y’know? I’ve been making music since I was eight. But I was throwing parties, waiting tables to get enough money together to hire a drummer to go into the studio for the day. I’d still be doing that today anyway, without all of this. But DJ friends in New York heard the music, heard ‘Blind’, and were like, ‘You should take this to a label.’ So we took it to DFA, and DFA took it to EMI, and all of a sudden it became huge, it became Hercules and Love Affair.”
show. “I put together this really ambitious, overly ambitious, eight-piece, live disco band, made up of studio musicians from the record, hired guns basically. Nomi came too, whom I knew as a periphery to Anthony.” I ask how the first tour went and the response lacks the self-congratulation you’d expect from pulling off such a large feat. “It was cool and cute, fun but extremely costly. Rough at times, it was something more along the lines of this no-wave, 1979 James Chance thing. Wonky, kind of like Kid Creole but a lot less tight.”
First came ‘Blind’, the breakout underground hit, then the album, and then came the live
The new Hercules and Love Affair stays true to the old: plundering infant dance scenes and bringing them into the 21st century. Only this time it’s proto-Chicago house, and I wonder how such a shift came to be. “At the end of the tour, in Australia, Kim-Ann and I were all like, ‘Girl, don’t you miss the boom boom?’ And we booked out this little studio, took just an old analogue synth, an old drum machine, recorded it, and were like, ‘THIS is the boom boom.’” And what is the ‘boom boom’? “Boom boom is just bumping, just jumping, just hands in the air. Just more. Less like toot toot. More like BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM.”
“We booked out this little studio, took just an old analogue synth, an old drum machine, recorded it, and were like, ‘THIS is the boom boom”
Butler goes on to tell me about how he assembled the collective who helped him create the new sound. “So, the initial boom boom came from Kim-Ann, but I was in this studio in San Francisco full of analogue gear and all these flyers for Meat Beat Manifesto, who I love, and I met this guy, Mark Pistel, who ran the studio but also created the prototype for new beat, for acid house, techno, all this shit.
“There’s just so much more emotion than the first record, more anger too. It is what it is, less chic, less polished”
He was in Meat Beat and Consolidated. And he was just sitting right by me. He knew what I was doing with Hercules and was like, ‘I wanna be a part of that.’ And so Mark and I, though mostly Mark, engineered this system of fusing live analogue playing with digital tracking into our live show.”
“Anyway, a few weeks later I got this demo, a CD sent by mail, not a yousendit or an MP3. I heard the voice and it just reminded me of everything I loved. Her musical references, her understanding of the aesthetic, the voice being just beyond.”
“Going back a bit, I was touring with Antony, just selling merch, and met Aerea [Negrot] who said two things, that she loved and made techno, and she loved opera, and sang in an operatic way.” Three years later and I remembered going for dinner with her and Antony, and I realised I wanted to hunt her down and work with that girl who loves techno and can fucking sing.”
Coupled with Kim-Ann, Hercules was now a five-piece, spread between San Francisco, Berlin, Chicago, Barcelona and New York. Given the geographic limitations, does Butler just control the whole thing centrally? “We come together, you know. When we’re recording, I’ll just get one of them, but now we’re touring we’re like family.”
“It’s about playing live. We all look at each other, go crazy. We all really connect” “Shaun [Wright] we met when on tour with the original configuration - I just looked at him in the crowd and was like, ‘She is fab, she is so amazing.’ She reminded me semi- of Sylvester, semi- of Rick James, just like all these great disco pioneers rolled into one. I thought, ‘Tonight, this show is dedicated to that person.’ After the show Shaun just came up to me and thanked me, knew all my reference points and then after we talked about Sylvester had the nerve to be like, ‘Well, I can sing like Sylvester too. With maybe a bit of Jeffrey Osborne too.”
Individually, the five-piece’s influences are incredibly diverse, spanning folk, extreme death metal, freestyle, ‘80s thrash, contemporary jazz and mellow singer songwriters (remarkably, Norah Jones’ name is mentioned). “It’s diverse,” Butler admits. “I’ve used the best abilities of a diverse group of people. But there’s a lot more house than disco. We’ve brought it back to Chicago, a bit of West Coast trippy psychedelic house, a bit of New York banjo house.” Despite the variations, the underlying theme is undoubtedly clear: “Just a lot of house.” Such sonic diversity probably accounts for the second record’s sound. Other than a track based on an acoustic guitar riff Butler wrote when he was 15, jokingly described as ‘Hercules Gone Country’, and a couple of big, Herculean disco tracks for old time’s sake, the record is all boom boom.
“There’s bits that are more down, like a clash between a big party and a depressed, heroin vibe. And there’s Kele’s (Okereke, from Bloc Party) track which is beautiful, amazing. But he’s obviously not going to be on tour with us either. There’s just so much more emotion than the first record, more anger too. It is what it is, less chic, less polished. More forwards from DFA’s raw production elements, we’ve made a lush record out of step from that 1982 style. We’ve evolved in the same way technology did after that era, still analogue primarily, but with more density, a bit more digital.” Hercules and Love Affair is more of a concept than a band. An evolving, ephemeral, mismatched yet wonderfully cohesive, weirdo gaggle of talents curated but also enabled by Butler’s Midas touch and linked by their mutual love of performing. “It’s about playing live. Live, we have fun. We all look at each other, go crazy. There’s so much more chemistry, we all really connect. This is like family - we’re on the same aesthetic, the same page. We’re in tune with each other.” I was curious of what to expect from the new show, having been told previously, “We’re schizophrenic, we’re all over the world, but we’ve come together. We’re all crazy!” And watching them play, the atmosphere was overflowing with the fabled boom boom. Miles from their various homes, Hercules and Love Affair blow the Kent countryside away. Butler may be a control freak, but he’s created a musical force so lavishly retro yet progressively forward-thinking he could be responsible for the best boom boom this decade will see.
Fugues Photographed by Flo Kohl Styled by Zoniel Art directed by Millie Brown
Previous page, left, top right: Dominic wears headpiece, stylist’s own; distressed wool shorts, Lina Osterman; necklace, Zoe and Morgan
Previous page, right: Zander wears trousers, Asger Juel Larsen; neckpiece (used as whip) Avsh Alom Gur; ring, Zoe and Morgan
Dominic wears hat, Komakino; armpiece, stylist’s own; leather cropped trousers, Qasimi Homme; socks, Falke; leather boots, Timberland
Scott wears full length mesh jumpsuit, Christopher Shannon; swim shorts, American Apparel; long socks, Falke; suede boots, Timberland; ring, Zoe and Morgan
Scott wears headpiece, stylist’s Zander wears trousers, Asger Juel own; sheer shirt, Zambesi; Larsen; neckpiece (used as whip) Avsh leggings, Falke Ergonomic; Alom Gur; ring, Zoe and Morgan socks, Falke; melted rubber boots, Komakino for Dr. Martens; 3 claw rings, Duffy
Zander wears leggings, Falke Ergonomic; necklace, Zoe and Morgan; chain glove, Zambesi. Scott wears leggings, Falke Ergonomic; 3 claw ring, Duffy Dominic wears leggings, Falke Ergonomic
Hair: Takanori Yamaguchi Make-up: Joanna Banach Models: Zander at Premier, Scott at Select and Dominic at Models1
Fashion Film Words: Martina Randles Zan Dara, 2010 Film still
Fashion Film has left its infancy and morphed into an omnipresent force, breeding a whole new genre of creativity: one with the ability to fuse music, fashion, art and movement into a single palatable sensation. The result can tell a story or sell a product. It has the potential for greater longevity than its forebears and has now become a necessary tool with the emergence of dedicated websites - including Nick Knight’s SHOWstudio and Jefferson Hack/Louis Vuitton’s Nowness - which are geared up to maximize on the coming wave. The emergence of fashion film is not new. Arguably most avant garde film from the 1890s to the 1920s could be considered fashion film, and the ‘60s saw dedicated exploration by William Klein in Who Are You, Polly Maggoo? as well as fashion photography as film from Guy Bourdin. As technology becomes all-encompassing, we’re witnessing the wild west of a new genre - the field is open and the rush is on. One champion of fresh talent is Diane Pernet, blogger, journalist, filmmaker and curator of A Shaded View of Fashion Film Festival (ASVOFF). When we spoke she was in
preparation for her fifth touring fashion film festival, set to take place at the Pompidou Centre in Paris this September. Her first dreams of the festival were about 10 years ago. “I was making lo-fi fashion films, which I really wanted to show but at the time there wasn’t enough material around,” she says. It wasn’t until 2006 that the festival was actualised off the back of a film Pernet made for Mark Eley of Eley Kishimoto, who she describes as a “wild guy”. The film was a road movie covering the Gumball Rally which was commissioned to coincide with their collection. The film prompted a group exhibition in Los Angeles of 25 films from an impressive array of contributors, including Alexander McQueen, Nick Knight, Ruben Toledo, Henrik Vibskov and Maison Martin Margiela.
However, we still need a hotel sponsor, otherwise Rosey Chan, who’s playing my opening, will be sleeping on the floor.”
London will be treated to a teaser this September as Pernet has been invited to present a selection of films for the ‘Future Beauty: 30 Years of Japanese Fashion’ exhibition at the Barbican. When I quizzed Pernet on the difficulties of hosting such an event she talked mainly of the financial dilemmas. “Selffinancing has been a struggle - fortunately Samsung are on board for a second edition.
Pernet collaborated with Italian Vogue for her most recent project, Light Series, a competition which invited filmmakers to make a one-minute film exploring the concept of light. “Working with that kind of time frame was really great,” explains Pernet. “It’s hard to do something in a minute, but I’ve seen some really great things.”
Around 500 films have been submitted from as far afield as Australia, South Africa and China. Spending 10 to 12 hours a day viewing films I was curious – with all this creativity, were there people getting it wrong? “It’s got to be so bad it’s good otherwise it won’t make the cut,” says Pernet. “This guy did a spoof on L’Oreal where he had all these guys in a circle jerking off around him and it became this face mask - it was really funny, it was an art piece.” Regarding the connection with music and visuals, Pernet says: “Think about when you go to a fashion show and the music is crap - it kills it for you. It’s the same with everything.”
Zaiba Jabbar, a filmmaker living in London, is the joint winner of the Light Series competition. Her film, shot at Dalston Superstore, showcases William Richard Green’s second menswear collection and was inspired by the concept of light in constant motion. “Pin-prick lights highlight the grungy silhouette and infect the clothes in a dark void,” explains Zaiba. “The harshness between light and dark echoes the heroic and anti-heroic theme of William’s collection, thus creating a tectonic mood.” I’m impressed by what she has achieved with a minimal budget and a three-man team. Since winning, Zaiba has attracted attention from Australia to New York. “I wouldn’t say it’s vital to win an award but the exposure is priceless,” she says. Having just completed a video project for Fashion 156 she is now working on projects for no-one store, Test magazine and Imagine Fashion. Zaiba believes that London is the best place for an emerging filmmaker, where avenues to meet with fellow creatives and access to facilities are open. However, once established, the mobile entity of digital film enables you to be based anywhere, shooting in one city and editing in another with post-production happening on the other side of the world. “Dazed Digital’s
augmented reality, SHOWstudio’s interactive video and live sessions and concept store Machine-A’s multiple video installations are all a part of redefining not just fashion film, but how moving content is integrated into our everyday lives,” Zaiba says. “Fashion film is such a young genre, it as yet holds no rules.”
“Fashion film provides a platform for those with the ingenuity to create something from nothing” Griffin, an LA-based director, runs Present Future Films. Having established himself as a photographer and music video director he made the move into fashion film after meeting Kate and Laura Mulleavy of Rodarte. The pair commissioned him to make the film Vox Humana, originally screened on SHOWstudio in 2008, which went on to became the first film screened on Italian Vogue’s new website in 2010. Griffin also submitted Zan Dara for Pernet’s Light Series, a film that examines our perception of beauty, with the lead played by Gita Hall, a leading model in her fifties. We watch her life as she observes youth in
the form of beauty and vanity entwined. “She’s an amazingly beautiful woman with no surgery. I wanted to re-contextualise beauty and ageism,” explains Griffin. He also recently launched a short film festival in China, One Dream Rush, where 42 international directors made 42-second shorts based on the concept of dreams. Collaborators included David Lynch, Harmony Korine, Kenneth Anger and Jonas Mekas. Funding for fashion film is slowly trickling through. “The average fashion film is being made for between zero dollars and $8-10,000. Blue Shanghai by David Lynch was reportedly made for $900,000 - this is all so new that it’s taken a lot of time for the advertisers and conglomerates to understand the medium. Slowly the budgets will go from this bizarre beginning range of $0-15,000 to $60,000, to $200,000, to even a million dollars once people have the ability to see them as multi-layered pieces.” Griffin is attracting commissions from artists and designers looking to develop into this field. Filmmakers who are making films right now have an unprecedented amount of creative control that comes from the sole desire to make film. It’s about the idea - money is secondary.
William, 2010 Film stills
Murk Photographed by Tim Hill Styled by Millie Brown Art directed by Sean Michael
Previous page: Leomie wears onyx dress, Julian J Smith
Above left: Ruffle blouse, Religion; leather shorts, Sandro
Left page: Cropped jacket, Julian J Smith
Above right: Leather sweatshirt, Swagga and Soul; patterned striggings, Falke; smokey quartz ring, Duffy
Above: Tier bottomed dress, Disaya; bangles, Religion
Fashion Editor: Lily Silverton Retouch: The Other Land Make-up: Nikki Palmer at Mandy Coakley using MAC Pro Hair: Jay Zhang Leomie at Premier
Words: Martina Randles Image: Hassan Havier
“A skilled costume designer with a selfproclaimed ‘curiosity towards death’, Pernet’s personal style is informed by a love of Italian cinema and a particular fascination with strong Sicilian characters dressed in black”
Long black hair meticulously quiffed into an updo that would leave Ab Fab’s Patsy seething. Eyes camouflaged with the aid of black glasses: cat’s eye, a style that defies la mode. Pale face framed with a veil that gently cascades down to all-black attire.
Pernet’s creative career began at Temple University, Philadelphia, where she majored in Film and Communications. “When I was studying I was really into fiction,” she says. “In the end though, what I really love is documentaries, so maybe it left an imprint.”
But for those who can look beyond the trademark caricature, Diane Pernet presents an intimidating roll call of accomplishments: filmmaker, journalist, photographer, designer, mentor, curator, and more recently blogger, a role which has arguably been the catalyst to her new-found prominence. With her website attracting 300,000 views per month she has maxed out her blog for the benefit of budding creatives and international filmmakers everywhere. “There are so many places where things are happening,” she explains. “Whether it’s my blog or my festival, it’s about finding talents from around the world.”
A skilled costume designer with a selfproclaimed ‘curiosity towards death’, Pernet’s personal style is informed by a love of Italian cinema and a particular fascination with strong Sicilian characters dressed in black. The death of her first husband when she was 30 prompted her to abandon colour in favour of head-to-toe ebony, the seemingly appropriate choice for a young widow. As well as discovering young artists, Pernet often goes on to publicise and mentor the many unsung creatives vying for an opportunity to fulfil their potential. “New talent is new
energy,” she says. “You need new blood.” She recently invited 14-year-old blogger Tavi Gevinson to judge the One Minute Light Series film competition, and her current protégé is Charles Guislain, a super-skinny 17-year-old who features heavily on Pernet’s YouTube channel. “I’m trying to consult him. He has two more years of school and his dream is to go to Central Saint Martins,” says Pernet, explaining that they meet for tea regularly. “I remember thinking that he has to be in fashion - he was all decked out in Margiela and Raf Simons. He sent me a note on Facebook about wanting to show me his sketches.” Behind the dark facade, Pernet’s accessibility and openness play a crucial part in the development of both the film festival and the young minds who look to her for guidance and inspiration.
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Diane Pernet
Acting Out Words: Loulla-Mae Eleftheriou–Smith Image: Mark Simpson
‘ACT ART 8 CENSORED’ is art with a social purpose. Its raison d’être: to show “experimental, radical, confrontational and non-mainstream work alongside less challenging and more entertainment based work.” The ACT ART juggernaut is gaining momentum, and with the latest offering from Oliver Frost and Marc Massive, they have surpassed their previous stellar standards.
risks” led to the revolution that is the ACT ART event. A year later, Massive creatively galvanised the duo and they now produce every show together. ACT ART only happens once a year because the event itself takes three to four months to organise, and while the production for an event is in full flow, Frost’s other projects and any performances or recording for Massive’s band get put on hold.
The inception of ACT ART in 2003 began as Frost’s reaction to the “close-knit and cliquey world that was hard to penetrate as an emerging artist.” This, combined with a “lack of programming opportunities for new, emerging cross-discipline artists that make edgier work and are willing to take
The first step is finding an available space. “ACT ART is a bit like a travelling circus when it comes to finding a venue. The first hurdle is finding a place that can hold 1000-plus people and can accommodate a huge amount of stages and one-to-one intimate spaces for the performance-based
works as well as the wall-mounted and 3D installation pieces,” Frost explains. “Which on a Friday night in London isn’t that easy.” Once the right space has been found they start searching for acts. “We start by putting a call for artists out on arts bulletins, alumni boards and email lists, as well as the call-out flyers we distribute around colleges, bars and shops,” says Massive. “Some participants are previous ACT ART artists who are keen to address the theme or showcase new works, and others are artists whom we’ve seen via online networking sites such as Facebook, that we contact and ask to take part. I keep an eye out for current underground music acts that are making waves or creating a name for
Sub Rosa
themselves.” Then publicity for the event itself gets underway: creating images, printing the first set of flyers, getting press and editorial interest. “Once the 100 participating artists are confirmed, we begin to lay out and design the show, working out which artists go where, taking into account their individual needs and seeing what works well alongside each other,” says Frost. When everything is confirmed they begin furiously advertising the night. “We physically flyer the event ourselves, visiting every London art college, university and dance school, making sure that we put a flyer on as many art students’ desks as possible.” They send out images, take out full-page ads and spend a week installing the show. This year’s flyer has Frost and Massive’s alter-egos, geisha-Mickey-Mouse characters, sitting naked against a white background wearing yellow wigs cut with a V-shaped fringe and pulled into tight, twin buns, their faces painted white with pink glitter clown mouths holding a deadpan stare. The characters are also holding erect penises and the picture is covered with butterflies - one rests neatly on the wig of one artist while another sits on the head of the other’s penis - and their bodies have a shiny, plastic-looking sheen that Massive explains is to create a “sex doll-like quality”. They promoted the event with a trailer which has been described as “freak porn”, featuring the pair in “Mickey Mouse clown drag”. “We’ve been told the film manages to be erotic, artistic, euphoric,
sad and quite beautiful all at the same time. We posted the event trailer everywhere we could, including porn sites, relevant fetish sites and the usual online art sources, where possible. They all came back with very different reactions, ranging from complimentary to abusive, which we particularly liked.”
“We posted the event trailer everywhere we could. They all came back with very different reactions, ranging from complimentary to abusive, which we particularly liked” The night was originally going to be sexthemed, but Frost and Massive felt it would be too obvious. “We knew we wanted the imagery and promotion to be the most ‘out there’ yet, as the event has become known in some quarters as a ‘no holds barred’ show, where artists had the freedom to express themselves however they wished,” says Massive. This meant that artists who had been censored themselves got in touch with the pair to get their work shown. Frost says it is also “important for us to offer a safe space for artists to showcase their work
and to bring less known, misunderstood and marginalised work to a larger audience.” Held at the Islington Metal Works, more than 1000 people turned up to see the latest show. “This year’s headline music act was a band from Italy called Hard Ton who are signed to the über-trendy Italian electro label, Gigolo Records,” says Massive. “We just knew they would go down a storm with our crowd so we got in touch and they flew in for the night to perform.” The event showcased more than 100 artists in the two-storey building. People walked around performers spilling on top of each other and getting spat on. Doors led to tiny rooms with installations (one had a fridge with dead rats in it) or intimate one-on-one performances, while large spaces downstairs filled with music, film projections and of course, Frost and Massive running the show. So did the night itself prove a success? “We want people to have their eyes, ears and minds opened and hopefully affected by the work, the artists on show and the overall experience of the event,” says Massive. “We believe art should make an impression and have an effect on people, be it intimidating or something that makes you smile,” adds Frost. The night definitely made an indelible impression and, unsurprisingly, won ‘Best Event’ at the 2010 Erotic Awards. It was an incredible experience and we will be eagerly awaiting next year’s event.
James Trimmer Words: William Cooper Image: Danny Hall
I first met James Trimmer when he was obsessed with Final Fantasy VII. I think we were about 13 and had just started at a new school. Trimmer was small, had curtains and made up a girlfriend who was a pro surfer. He boarded at school as his parents moved a lot and seemingly each summer holiday he would jet off to some distant shore: Brazil, Bolivia, Honduras. His parents don’t traffic coke. Or people. As it happens his parents have pretty boring jobs. Due to this he spent most weekends during term time staying at mine. As a sign of his gratitude one Christmas he bought my parents three Ferrero Rocher. This Christmas my parents bought two of Trimmer’s paintings. I think that means that he’s grown up now. Upon leaving school Trimmer got a first in painting from Brighton, and in the final year of his degree he was selected for an exchange with the Nova Scotia Center of Art and Design, a three-month sabbatical in the Canadian wilderness. Here his work became filled with bears, rabbits and wolves, anthropomorphised into curious hybrids. These Humanimals, as he calls them, became a staple in Trimmer’s work, and remain so today. Trimmer now sits in that funny middle ground: he’s finished his education but isn’t yet represented by a gallery. Approaching his midtwenties I don’t suppose his situation is unique in the slightest; nevertheless, in the past year Trimmer has embraced this state rather than letting it define him. He is producing work that perhaps wouldn’t have been deemed serious
enough for education or a gallery concerned primarily with sales, but which flirts with concepts that are so charming and so blissful we are indebted to this freedom in which he works. His imagination explodes with a Steadman-esque bang onto paper and canvas. Bizarre characters repeat themselves in semiautobiographical works where the viewer seems to tiptoe around the artist’s subconscious. We see Mr Mustacheio, the moustache-laden amorphous yellow blob who inhabits the driving range off Shoreditch High Street, posing alongside the Camerons on the steps of Number 10. Looking through his sketchbooks, spilt patches of red ink are playfully turned into gnarled faces with the daintiest of touches. In recent discussions with Trimmer he has been excited about a collaborative project with fellow Brighton graduate Nick Creber. The pair explore their relationship with the canon of western art, questioning what the Old Masters actually say to them. Although this is by no means a groundbreaking field of study, their childlike enthusiasm and genuine curiosity hit you like a lungful of sea air. The pair paint side-by-side, reinterpreting Ruben’s masterpiece Minerva Protects Pax from Mars (Peace and War). Watching them paint together is lovely; something like watching an art class at primary school, full of kids with their tongues out in paint-splattered overalls. About a year ago my girlfriend found a competition to win six months’ free studio space in the Holywell Centre, just off Great
Eastern Street. Trimmer won. He had previously been living and working in Fish Island, near the 2012 Olympics site, where the hotbed of creativity can often make the most talented artist feel self-conscious. His move to a building that wasn’t even predominantly artists’ studios has driven his work forwards, giving him the freedom to do the work he wants to; not painting for a while if it’s not working, or perhaps focusing on drawing or printmaking. His practice had somehow ceased to be results driven and was instead far more about the actual process of working. Trimmer allowed his imagination to run wild and this is really where much of the joy in his work comes from. It is these glimpses of the artist’s rich and endearing imagination that make his work shine. When I was about 14 I went to stay with the Trimmers in São Paulo. Being expats they lived in a strange community that was in São Paulo but somehow not in Brazil. It was such a pity that because of his parents’ care all we saw were shopping malls and Portuguesedubbed episodes of Friends. However, now that we are both adults we can choose that balance of maturity and, well, immaturity I guess, ourselves. Trimmer has reached a really interesting point in his career, a point that might never come around again, where he is free to make his own choices. He can let his imagination run wild now because there is no one around to tell him not to. www.jamestrimmer.com
Vital
Dairy Queen Photographed by Dirk Alexander Styled by Edmund Ooi
Previous page and left: Spine sleeve dress, Hannah Marshall; cuff and wood necklace, Yoolhee Ko; headpiece, necklaces, gloves, tights and shoes, stylist’s own
Above: Spotted dress, Stine Goya; tutu skirt, Charles Anastase; chains medallion, Heaven Tanudiredja; headpiece, shirt and bracelet, stylist’s own
Right: Floral tulle dress, Kokon To Zai; necklace and cuff, Yoolhee Ko; fur cuff, bangles, shoes and tights, stylist’s own
rt Director: Lily Silverton igital operator: Tim Hill ake-up: Jo Sugar using ermalogica and Bobby Brown air: Adelemarie Davidson at oni&Guy (Gloucester Road, London) ina at FM, Alena at First, Margo and eisha at Premier
Assistant: Alex Everaert Assistant stylist: Lumi Todd Hair and make-up: Thierry Deblaton Model: Tatjana at Dominique Models Thanks Nico De Vlieger for the location
Grime’s Original Party Animal Jammer Words: Ed Lilo Image: Walter Hugo
Jammer exists as an anomaly in the grime scene. Sure, he grew up in East London, his subject matter doesn’t deviate from the genre’s defining principles and he is relentlessly confident about his music. But he’s resoundingly positive too, a genuine optimist. He knows the industry inside-out and has every player worth knowing on call. So where did it begin? “We created it, I was part of its inception,” he says. Jammer has been producing grime records for 10 years, MCing for seven. His four-volume strong Are You Dumb? mixtape series has sold 25,000 copies, his label has put out over 50 vinyl singles and his Lord of the Mic DVDs are the definitive grime video document. “It wasn’t called grime back then, it was garage,” explains Jammer. “We added a bit of MCing, a bit of a reggae touch, it got darker, edgier, harsher. There wasn’t a name for it, everyone was just putting out records. Talking to labels was useless - there wasn’t a name for what we were doing, no classification.” In 2007, Jammer was rumoured to be signing to Dizzee Rascal’s Dirtee Stank label. “It was crazy when Dizzee got that big. We’re friends to this day, but I wanna be in my own zone. Even then, if you went for a drink everyone would be ‘Dizzee Dizzee Dizzee’. It’s one of those things innit.” Notting Hill Carnival 2008 saw Jammer star alongside Badness in Silverlink’s ‘The Message Is Love’. “We closed it down that year, up with Sinden. I enjoyed the record, making the video. This year we’re doing it again with a big soca
remix, it’s gonna be heavy,” he says. Grime today is different - there are artists in the charts, the shows sell out and the broadsheets take notice. “All these people are making records, good records, getting on Radio 1. There’s Tinchy, Calvin Harris, ‘Bonkers’. Tinie Tempah making this track that kids learn all the words for like in the Smash Hits days. I can listen to the radio now and there’s loads of good stuff on there.” “Professor Green’s album is great,” he adds. If he was Lily Allen, would he be good to Green? “Yeah, man! It’s not a pop record though, it’s a popular record like Grace Jones had popular records, y’know? People say you couldn’t get a grime record on Radio 1, but it’s about to happen properly.” By you? “Yeah, man. ‘Back to the 90s’ is that record. We’re making a video next week.”
it’s a club record. Me and Toddla T don’t make generic pop, we make music for clubs.” Ask him where he likes playing live most and Jammer can’t give a single answer. “I love all the shows, proper grime ones where people watch your every bar, them university nights where kids jump about and crowdsurf, the Mumdance-style big club shows where everyone’s just up for it,” he says. On behalf of those of us not so knowledgeable on the grime scene, I ask what records I should start with. Are there any records that Jammer, so secure in his role at the forefront of grime, wishes he had been the brains behind? His response isn’t unexpected: “I made one of them, ‘Murkle Man’. That’s one of the best grime records of all time. I had so many majors wanting to sign it, but I wasn’t ready and the scene wasn’t ready. Nowadays, it’s more formal, it’s more business. Other than that, ‘Pow! (Forward)’ by Lethal Bizzle, that pushed things forward in a way that was well ahead of its time. Some early Dizzee, I’d go with ‘Stand Up Tall’, that defined grime to a lot of people.”
Despite being a notable producer himself, on the new record Jahmanji Jammer has worked with a range of producers not rooted in grime. “Those guys, Toddla T, Mumdance, they’re in their 20s and have listened to grime all their lives. I wanted to link up with them, mix it up Grime has been declared ‘over’ countless times, a bit, get a good blend of genres. That whole but until people like Jammer give up there’s Artit’s Director: global dance scene is going off, and a good Lily no Silverton chance of a time-of-death being announced. crowd. I want to keep it diverse, Digital cater for operator: And there’s Tim Hillno chance of Jammer moving on different heads.” the genre is just getting going, evolving to get Make-up: Jo Sugar using theBobby airplay and the student shows but never Dermalogica and Brown Jammer has a reputation for being big into losing sight of its Hair: Adelemarie Davidson atstrong, albeit recent heritage. partying (before arriving at the interview he Does Jammer deserve to be as big as Dizzee Toni&Guy (Gloucester Road, London) tweets, ‘just got my shoot still drunk hangover or Wiley? Sure. But he’s going to be pushing it Nina at FM, Alena at First, Margo and ting lets go’) and the lead single from Jahmanji forwards behind the scenes as well as in front: Keisha at Premier is a full-blown club track, but he’s adamant making music, connecting future stars, and in it’s not a pop record: “It’s just a party track, all likelihood, partying hard along the way.
The Luck of the Brungers Words: Luke Wrights Image: Philip Dennis
Papa was ruddy cheeked and large He’d boast about his gout spent Saturdays on the golf course and Sundays fishing trout.
Then back home for the holidays their lips stained red with tannin every pissed up night produced a queue at Family Planning.
And as the boys were drinking up they met some Tory yobs before the bell had rung for time By Jove! They both had jobs!
He called his secretary “my love” he called his missus “Bunny” And the whore he saw on Wednesdays? Well, he liked to call her “Mummy”.
Until they’d failed all their exams and Papa was forced to phone a don he knew at Magdalen so his sons could both leave home
Papa The Second always found he could tell plonk from wine so was delighted to be made Wine Critic for The Times.
Papa had two fine sons of course (Papa loathed all things flowery) ‒ Only whoopsees father daughters their punishment’s the dowry.
For three long years the boys drank hard and didn’t read a word left Oxford with some gambling debts and gentlemanly thirds.
He’d spend his days at tastings he traveled the world for free and combined his love of getting pissed with caustic snobbery.
Son One was christened after him which surprised the registrar this colossus with his chubby son and both of them Papas.
Then Papa II and Second Son made their way to town, their mortar boards in hedgerows and vomit on their gowns,
Whereas Second Son was devious his sentences were brief the Tory’s perfect candidate for Twitterer-in-chief
Now Second Son, for ‘twas his name was small, intense and wiry traditionally destined for The Church but lately just The Priory.
and took some rooms in Hampstead (their view was quaint and pretty) and waited for a phone call from a hedge fund in the City.
And when Britain as blue again the Rah-Rahs flooded in his awful cyber smileys all bore a rictus grin.
Both sons were born with all their teeth both sons were tough and fast they went through nannies quick as nappies wet nurses didn’t last.
Art Director: Lily ButSilverton what of ol’ Papa? you cry. But damn this Labour government! Digital operator: Hill MyTim friends you mustn’t fear. The credit crunch had struck! Make-up: Jo Sugar using He brought some shares in Poundland The Brungers had to face the fact Dermalogica and Brown andBobby had a vintage year. they may be out of luck.
At school they captained every team and spoiled every lesson with yobbish beefy blue-blood quips and flatulent digressions.
And if you’re wondering what the moral is But whilst some bankers lost their nerve Toni&Guy (Gloucester Road, London) ‘fraidatI’m wondering tooand With hosepipes and exhausts - Nina at FM, Alena First, Margo trolls like this will always win To the Brungers Chateau Neuf de Pape at Premier Keisha and there’s nothing we can do. tastes better than remorse.
Hair: Adelemarie Davidson at
Disco Words: Sian Rowe Image: Philip Dennis
It was somewhere between episodes of Supermarket Sweep that I first heard the songs of Donna Summer, Candi Staton, Anita Ward, Rose Royce, A Taste of Honey and Andrea True. For years after its peak in 1979, it was common for disco to soundtrack adverts for sofas, chocolate and bingo - but not a night in a club. Like so many genres, disco started as resistance music in the underground clubs of New York City and Philadelphia. Unwelcome in mainstream clubs, the African American, Latino and gay communities took soul, Motown and Latin sounds and made live music that was, in short, defined by being danceable. While some evolved into other new genres, by 1970 New York had its first proto-disco club, held in the world-famous Loft. DJ David Mancuso hosted these dance parties in his own home while other DJs encouraged “anything goes” parties, which held on to the free and colourful feel of psychedelia. Disco as we know it shimmied along in 1973, bringing high energy beats, colourful costumes and a whole lot of over-the-top pomp. Journalist Vince Aletti discussed the new style in the September of that year in Rolling Stone magazine, and by 1974 disco had its own radio show thanks to WPIX-FM. In that same year, producer Tom Moulton introduced extended singles and remixing, a technique which had already been used in the Jamaican dub scene since the ‘60s, and started dropping the ‘break’ into tracks. The new disco DJs also began mixing between songs, and far from just being the game for men with chest wigs, the first female DJ star, Karen Cook, played at the ‘Elan in Houston from 1974 to 1977.
Nowadays it’s a given that producers like Timbaland and Xenomania will have a number one single, that J Dilla or Dre are cited as influences, and that Dave Sitek will make something fashionable, but disco was the first genre to glamorise producers. Hitmaker Giorgio Moroder first defined the genre’s ideals, telling the NME in 1978: “The disco sound, you must see, is not art or anything so serious. Disco is music for dancing, and I know that the people will always want to dance.” In the same interview he slagged off the rock snobbism that contributed to disco’s eventual decline. The rise of the producer is perhaps one of disco’s greatest musical legacies. (Unless you’d like to concentrate on the Paradise Garage, Crisco Disco, Studio 54 and the sleazy, drug-addled sex-fest side of course...) Disco did have its moment in the mainstream, and it was the big names I’d heard on the ads: Gloria Gaynor, Diana Ross, The Jackson 5, Barry White and Labelle - those with the glitziest outfits, the biggest hair and the best pop myths (Donna Summer’s ‘Love to Love You, Baby’ featured the sound of her enjoying 22 orgasms over 17 minutes, according to a tally in Time magazine). Hits like ‘Good Times’, ‘Ladies Night’, ‘Hot Stuff’, ‘Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough’ and ‘Upside Down’ are still supermemorable with their big vocals and strong syncopated bass lines - and let’s face it, to all you grumpy faces, they’re still a lot of fun. But in the late ‘70s the genre faced a backlash. DJ Steve Dahl, fed up with his rock show being ousted in favour of disco, created The Insane Coho Lips Anti-Disco Army, mocking disco records live on air with his broadcasting partner Garry Meier. Rock would never really sit well with disco, despite artists like Blondie,
Bowie and Gang of Four plundering the genre for rhythms and ideas. It wasn’t until at least this century when producers like DFA started mixing guitars and beats (and, funnily enough, holding dance parties in lofts) that the word ‘disco’ was proudly used again. Of course, there were plenty of places where disco hadn’t become a guilty pleasure. In mainland Europe, a new kind of artist was adding to the disco sound with advanced synthesisers, drum machines and vocoders. With the arrival of Bernhard Mikulski’s Italo Boot Mix in 1983, Italo disco replaced the genre’s euphoric psych roots with themes of love and space, robots and sex. Morodor was its biggest influence and disco sounds appeared in the songs of Kraftwerk, Telex and Devo, while the fast-tempo Hi-NRG genre made an appearance thanks to Patrick Cowley. Along with the disco-punk of James Murphy and The Rapture, Italo helped to reinvigorate disco as one of the 00’s and ‘10s primary club genres. Kylie and Madonna brought disco back to the mainstream with gold hotpants (2000) and Confessions on a Dancefloor (2005), but Glass Candy, Chromatics and Sally Shapiro made it cool again by mixing breathless vocals and glittering beats with a “give a fuck” attitude. Since then, the number of disco-influenced micro-genres seems impossible to count. It’s in the balearic beats of Vondelpark, the cosmic disco sounds of the 20jazzfunkgreats blog, the Alec Costandinosinfluenced disco pop of Kisses and the underground disco compilations from Chicago (where disco never died) and Suss’d. But then, perhaps I was always doomed to love disco. My mother owned all of the John Travolta annuals after all.
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