Capsule

CAPSULE

CAPSULE

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Hello Capsules...

I suppose this is where I should welcome you all into the world of Capsule, the magazine that you are holding in your hands right now. So, first of all welcome and thank you for joining us.

You’ll soon come to understand that this here publication is a portal to a world where time means nothing. Instead, it is a collection, a celebration if you will, of the many great things that have been produced over the years. Compiled into a quarterly magazine for you to gaze upon and enjoy. It may even broaden your horizons.

We talk music, film and fashion. For instance, in this issue we take a look in The Capsule Video Shop at films you might have missed (or should watch again).

Among other things the crew sample ‘cutting edge’ journalism whilst investigating the death of the album and the life of a secret tour manager…

And what would a magazine be without a pull out poster for your bedroom wall? Fear not! Included within our Joe Strummer tribute is a double page picture to replace the monotonous shades of your painted wall (or wallpapered if you’re lucky enough to be one of those people).

The Capsule team and I hope that you find enjoyment from this little magazine. And that you will join us on our mission to provide a timeless capsule of all things good for all to see, long after we’re gone (and after you have inconsiderately thrown this publication in the bin) n Thomas J. Owen (Editor) @thomasjofficial

Contents 04 - Time Capsule 06 - Live from London 10 - The Video Shop 13 - Scouse in the house 14 - Man behind the camera 17 - Tribute: Joe Strummer 27 - Primark apocalypse 29 - What goes on tour...

31 - This Is England 34 - Behind a great woman 36 - The Queen is Dead 38 - The Jackamoan

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TIMECAPSULE Jordan Joice asks a variety of faces you might

recognise what they would put in a time capsule...

Rick Edwards

Gizzi Erskine

Rick is nothing short of a “man giant”. You might know his handsome face from his days on T4, or most recently as the presenter of E4’s Tool Academy.

Gizzi makes magical treats on TV cookery shows, but she’s not just the prettiest chef on TV, she’s also got a great taste in time capsule choices.

Film: Funny Games (Michael Haneke) Album: 2001 (Dr Dre) Book: Blindness (José Saramago)

Film: War Of The Worlds (Tom Roth) Album: The Woman in Red (Stevie Wonder) Book: The Road To Wigan Pier (George Orwell)

Louise Brealey

Louise is that fresh-faced heartthrob from BBC’s Sherlock. Although she’s got eyes for a detective, we’ve got eyes for her... (and her record collection).

Film: It’s A Wonderful Life (Frank Capra) Album: Rip It Up (Orange Juice) Book: Moominvalley (Tove Jansson)

Adam Ficek

Adam plays drums for indie outfit Babyshambles, but for us at Capsule - we love his solo disguise Roses Kings Castles much more than those shambolic stars.

Film: Catch Me If You Can (Steven Spielberg) Album: Roses Kings Castes (Roses Kings Castles) Book: Siddhartha (Hermann Hesse)

Matt Whitehouse

When Matt’s not a model for Burberry, he’s the frontman of Morecambe four-piece The Heartbreaks, who have just finshed touring with Morrissey.

Film: Mulholland Drive (David Lynch) Album: Born In The USA (Bruce Sprinsteen) Book: Tender Is The Night (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

Rob Da Bank

Rob is the brains behind our favourite festival (Bestival) and also runs the record label Sunday Best.

We think his choices are probably best-of-all.

Film: E.T. (Steven Spielberg) Album: Walk On The Wild Side (Lou Reed) Book: Catch (Daniel Patton)

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LIVE FROM LONDON

Jack Rooke looks into the past, present and future of live music in the capital...

Walking around London today you’ll experience a city of creativity and contrast. Amongst the hiss of the buses, bleeps of the shops and narration of ‘mind the gap’, is a constant channel of live music that as a Londoner you can tap in to anytime, day or night.

London is a 24/7 musical capital with numerous; clubs, pubs, bars, halls, warehouses, cafes, churches, parks and busking stops pouring out sound into the city for anyone with an eager ear. It’s one magical quality that London has harboured

since it’s roman beginnings.

In the past 150 years, the capital has built numerous venues to showcase live music. From theatres to music halls, pleasure gardens to symphony orchestras - live music has evolved from being a religious sentiment to something of enjoyment.

Skip to the 20s and 30s - a post WW1 London saw live music as a morale booster.

In 1940 the Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts was created until the Second World War signalled an obvious halt to live musical experiences in London.

However post-WW2, live music began to boom.

The Arts Council established in 1946 pumping money and thought into making live music accessible again to the public. London’s variety theatres, dance, concert and music halls opened their doors again and restarted touring.

This meant that live music could again become a financially prosperous form of entertainment, with London being ‘the place to play’ if you wanted to make it big.

8 With the introduction of the UK charts in 1952, along with the New Musical Express (NME) first being distributed around the capital, new British acts saw London as the hub of musical success.

Traditional variety started to lose popularity as music became synonymous with the youth of London. It was young people who were creating the most forwardthinking and engaging music, therefore younger generations became a bigger audience for venues to target.

Tours featuring pop stars such as Billy Fury and Tommy Steele were held for the younger generation across the country, leaving variety and ballroom venues struggling and forcing them to adapt to the youth pop audience. Even cinema attendance was declining, resulting in many like The Astoria on Tottenham Court Road and the Hammersmith Apollo to convert into music venues.

Town Halls were turned into performance spaces, with authorities becoming reluctant to hold gigs for the younger generation in fear of rowdiness or vandalism.

America’s influence on music was fast growing and came in the form of Rock ‘n’ Roll, which took the UK by storm.

British rock music came to fruition in the early sixties with the arrival of The Beatles and The

Rolling Stones, who were the game changers in London’s live music scene.

Soon rock clubs, dance clubs, blues clubs and jazz clubs were the popular places to go. The 100 Club on Oxford Street, Ronnie Scotts in Soho and The Marquee all became big name hot spots, hosting big acts and making big money. Carnaby Street became a playground for the Rock‘n’Roll socialites of the time and London was soon the capital of ‘cool’.

During the 70s the genres of punk and heavy rock pumped into the London music scene, with The 100 Club and The Marquee playing host to The Clash and The Sex Pistols - both of which rehearsed in Camden, wrote about London and became cult figures in the capital’s music history.

The 80s spawned a post-punk, new-wave, electronic sound championed by London based acts David Bowie, Elvis Costello, Depeche Mode, Eurythmics and T.Rex. Stupid haircuts became even more of an eyesore and musicians were having their first taste of the synthesiser.

Rough Trade records, based in Ladbroke Grove, became a huge part of the UK indie music scene and hundreds of venues were buzzing with the sounds of the future - London wasn’t just where music was played anymore, it became

the music - at least until the 90s came.

Britpop was evolving around the country, whilst down in London clubs were still focused on playing a wide range of electronic dance music. Warehouse raves and happy-hardcore all-nighters dominated the London music scene, with dance tribes and collectives hosting some of the most vibrant music events in London’s history. This was driven by a widespread increase of amphetamine use within the capital’s clubs which resulted in stricter security in venues, and more safety restrictions imposed on the music promoters.

Live music was not seen as rebellious or an expression of creativity. It was dangerous. Gig related deaths in London soared by 150% during the mid-nineties and so everything coming into the 00s started becoming a bit safe.

Also in the 90s, a recession hit and the music industry had its first taste of being skint. Popular music started targeting an even younger generation – children. The Spice Girls ruled the world and big pop acts were making a lot of money through putting out more and more albums and singles, going on global tours and signing major sponsorship deals.

In 1976, the Association of Business Sponsorship of the Arts was set up in order to get more finance into the music industry. It took a

9 long time to take off, but by the mid-eighties bands were aligning themselves with big organisations.

Pepsi and Coca-Cola sponsored the tours of Michael Jackson and Madonna (when she was good) in the 80s, whilst Jovan Perfume sponsored the Rolling Stones’ famous Tattoo You Tour in 1981.

This made aspiring musicians widely accept the fusion between business and music, which soon filtered into the commercial ownership of venues.

London was hit hard by economic downfalls of the 90s and 00s - despite the fact live music had become the most prosperous sector of the music industry in the past decade. Music became more about money than ever before.

A widespread commercialisation of London’s most cherished venues ensued. The Kentish Town Forum became the HMV Forum, Brixton Academy and Shepherds Bush Empire are now owned by o2 and The Garage in Islington is now The Relentless Garage sponsored by an energy drink.

Now when you go to a gig at these venues, you’re inundated with their adverts and promotional material. It’s pretty shit and ruins the magic of going to watch live music.

Whilst its debateable whether or not mobile telecommunications companies should own

venues, it seems somewhat contained for the moment although fortunately we have not yet had to endure the Tesco 100 Club or the McDonalds Albert Hall, it’s unfortunately not as farfetched as it sounds, and with the volatile climate of London venues still affecting clubs and pubs in 2012, it’s a tangible future.

However at the same time, many venues have not been lucky enough to attract sponsorship during the financial crisis.

London’s small venues, pubs and clubs have been shutting down at a rate of hundreds each month. This is down to rising rents, the lack of disposable income and the huge amount of expense and bureaucracy involved in holding a live music license. The government has also not been that supportive of preserving London’s great venues either.

The new cross rail development in London has lead to the demolishment of The Astoria, one of capital’s most loved venues - even though thousands protested against it’s closure. The venue’s latter life had led it to be frequently inhabited by crappy, US pop-punk bands, who then in turn brought their pathetic teenage fans, who cluttered the streets of Tottenham Court Road hours before doors open - sporting chequered vans, black emo fringes and crying over how apathetic their lives were. I hated them, but at

the same time, now I actually miss them.

However, whilst the governments legislation has made it more difficult, the crisis for venues has been recognised in the governments coalition agreement - which claims “ we will cut red tape to encourage the performance of more live music”.

This recognition takes form through the Live Music Act, which now eases restrictions on small venues from October 2012 and should mean that more pubs, bars and cafes can host live music events.

Myself and many others believe that these venues are still crucial for acts breaking through, and that they provide a more intimate setting to experience live music.

London will obviously benefit from this as venues can worry less about bureaucracy and more about the enjoyment of music. The industry however is still focused on making money, pushing out the same David Guetta driven drivel and other similar dance tracks, and has somewhat lost the live music magic that existed in decades past.

However whether or not making it easier for more independent venues to open will salvage London’s ever-growing bland live music scene is a mystery that only time will tell n

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The Capsule Video Shop Films Thomas J, Jordan Joice and Jack Rooke feel Funny Games (Michael Hanke)

people might have missed (or they should just watch again)

Jordan: Although the title suggests one thing, Funny Games isn’t a comedy. It’s a psychological thriller that is one of the most violent films I’ve ever watched, but shows only a few scenes of actual violence. Directed by Michael Haneke, the film allows the mind to understand and visualise the violence without actually seeing it.

Although the film had good critical response, it deserves to be seen by more of the general public.

The first time I watched the film, was at college. I didn’t have any idea what the film was about or what I was getting myself into – I was just told I was going to love it.

To make sure I gave it my full attention, I turned my phone off and was immediately sucked in the film. Because of the way I viewed it,

completely blind eyed to what the film was about, and how much that was a positive thing – I urge you to watch the film with the same level of ignorance.

The best part about any film is being surprised, but specifically with Funny Games – you really don’t know where the plot is going until you get to the end. There are scenes that might scare you and others that might make you cry, but ultimately they’ll all just have you sitting on the edge of your seat.

Haneke made two versions of the film, the original that’s Austrian and the remake, which is American. If you don’t mind subtitles, then I’d suggest you watch the original – but the remake is just as good and stars two of the scariest young lads I’ve ever seen in a film n

Withnail & I (Bruce Robinson)

Thomas: Camden, 1969.

The 60s are coming to an end and as the local narcotics dealer suggests “we have failed to paint it black”. For two flailing actors this is all too obvious.

Their daily routine is all but a crumbling mess beneath their thespian feet. A daily routine that involves drug taking and swigging pints of cider and ice - or occasionally lighter fluid.

Bruce Robinson’s black comedy Withnail & I starring Richard E. Grant and Paul McGann, focuses on their escape from the city that is dragging them even further down. A short holiday in the countryside at an uncle’s cottage being exactly what the doctor ordered. Or so they think.

In an old Jag they set off but the pair soon realise that they are not cut out for the country living.

Encounters with the elements, bulls, poachers and a lustful homosexual uncle provides a hilarious watch in this cult classic n

11 American Psycho (Mary Harron)

Thomas: Patrick Bateman, an investment banker in Manhattan living the high life with his high life ‘friends’.

It’s all about the make of suit, the location you live, the places you eat and the colour of your business card. Using material possessions to prove who has the biggest cock.

But behind the face packs and ice cool exterior of Bateman, there is an underlying passion for murder. In the film adaptation of Bret Easton Ellis’ book, we see Patrick’s love of pop music (“do you like Huey Lewis and the News?”) and his desire to fit in with the high society whilst fulfilling his lust away from prying eyes. Be it video taping his sexual encounters or decapitating prostitutes in the park, the film probably goes as close to the original story as modern cinema allows n

Trainspotting (Danny Boyle) Jack: Irvine Welch’s book is great. John Hodge’s screenplay is fantastic.

Danny Boyle’s film is a masterpiece.

I watched Trainspotting for the first time drunk, at 5am, eating a McDonalds breakfast. It’s the only time in history a series of visual images has put me off food.

I’ve never been able to eat hash browns since.

I cried, laughed, screamed and squirmed my way through. These reactions may have been heightened due to being slightly pissed, but nonetheless the film is beautifully unapologetic, and walks the line of varied emotion minus any schmaltz.

“People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it.

Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid.”

The premise of the film is an illustrated insight into the lives of a group of heroin addicts, desperately trying to

avoid normality in a pretty rough pocket of Edinburgh during the late 80s.

Boyle is a genius at taking a fairly schizophrenic narrative and making it an instant classic, with a musical score that’ll treat you to Blur, Primal Scream and Pulp.

There are no characters you’ll love, nor any you will hate. You don’t care about them at the beginning and you certainly don’t at the end.

Which is the most refreshing part of watching this film.

The infamous ‘worst toilet in Scotland scene', features Renton (Ewan McGregor) shitting through the eye of a needle after taking a rectal opium suppository and experiencing the excruciating side effect of chronic diarrhoea. Boyle then tests any delicate stomach further, making McGregor climb headfirst into the toilet pan in order to retrieve his “last hit”.

With so many authors usually getting fucked over by household name directors, Welch’s own inclusion in the film as Mikey Forrester, the dealer who sold Renton the opium suppository, shows Boyle and Hodge’s dedication to ensure the film resonated the honest depictions of drug culture that Irvine Welch brutally pioneered n

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There’s never too much Scouse in the house.... (so feel free to return) The La’s are only really known for their 1988 hit single There She Goes.

Despite only reaching #57 the first time round, the record has been ever present on indie dance floors and compilations since. However Thomas J. Owen feels there is much more than meets the eye about this Scouse group...

What people may not realise is that the rest of the album, The La’s, which spawned the single There She Goes, was not a shabby affair either. In fact in the eyes of many it was deemed bloody magnificent! From the moment the raw sounding guitars and even more raw vocals of Lee Mavers’ kicks in on Son Of A Gun you will spend the next 35 minutes entranced by the Liverpudlian masterpiece.

It was The Ramones who said the perfect pop song should be two minutes long, and with this 12-track album they have clearly agreed.

The album peaked at #30 in the UK charts after it’s 1990 release, an achievement in itself. And with endless positive reviews in publications such as NME who gave it a 9/10 and Entertainment Weekly giving it an A+, it was evident that the release

was something special.

Prior to the album’s release the band had already made their name as a live act. On touring they would often draw the obvious comparisons of an 80s Beatles. And with their shared hometown, honest lyrics and adopted style it was inevitable. Throughout these early stages they received a number of notable fans, including Morrissey who had stated in the media of his appreciation of their music.

Despite this the group continually came to blows and spent a lot of the time frustratingly recording and re-recording the album with different producers.

After the album - the frustrations grew. The demise became official when John Power left the band at the end of 1991. He

stated that after playing the same songs for four years it was time for a change.

After leaving he returned with new band Cast. It would be nearly 15 years before Power and Mavers would play as The La’s again.

After the split there were various live reincarnations during the mid-90s with varied line-ups. Lee Mavers fronted them all.

When reunited with Power in 2005, The La’s once again hit the live circuit.

With many bands over the years citing them as an influence there’s no doubt that a studio return would excite. But as 20 years pass by, I think it’s safe to say it is unlikely and we should cherish their debut LP as musical masterpiece n

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The man behind the camera

Capsule caught up with world-renowned photographer Martyn Goddard, who has been known to hang around with the likes of Paul Weller and Debbie Harry. Can’t be a job...

Who was the first musician/band that you photographed, and how did it come about?

I can’t remember the first band, but I was working on retainer for Fab 208 Magazine [Magazine of Radio Luxembourg] at the time and one of the first assignments was to photograph Queen at a live gig at the Hammersmith Odeon.

Who was the first famous star that you photographed?

Queen were becoming big in 1975 when I worked with them, but I was shooting a different artist every day - Elton John, Barry White, The Troggs, Manfred Mann and AC/ DC just to name a few. I would turn up and really enjoy the photo shoot. It was what I had trained for so I’d put a lot of effort in to make it was a shoot I could use.

Tell us one of your favourite stories from your experiences photographing bands

For The Jam’s LP cover for News of the World, they wanted to continue the Carnaby Street theme, so we met up in Soho midwinter. The

plan was to shoot the group walking down the street towards the viewer, as if you were passing by them in the street. The dull weather wasn’t too much of a problem as Westminster Council had pedestrianised the street covering the road surface with yellow, black and orange rubber flooring and the early start meant there were just the odd fashion store assistant scurrying to work.

Looking at the image now I get the sense the band was beginning split into two parts - Mr Weller was on his own on the left, with

Butler and Foxton apart on the right.

As luck would have it I knew the Soho area well (not because I frequented the many dodgy strip clubs and bars in the area) but because my father in-law ran an electrical contracting business in Beak Street. I led the way to Frank’s Café around the corner where I shot one of the most informal and interesting rolls of 35mm film of the band and once again slightly separated Paul Weller on the left having a cup of tea and smoke while the rhythm section tucked into a good fry up.

15 How did you and Blondie become good friends?

I became well acquainted with Debbie Harry, Chris Stein and other members of the band when I spent a week with them in New York in 1978. I worked closely with them to produce creative images that they liked. I think I gave them space when I was shooting, not constantly taking aimless images but planning each set up.

Who are you most proud of working with in the music industry?

The designer Bill Smith who I worked on The Jam In The City and The Cure Three Imaginary Boys LP covers.

Out of all the images you have taken, what is your favourite image and why?

Debbie Harry licking the LP used on the European Parallel Lines picture disc.

What do you think

defines a good cover/ album art?

Impact! The image has to stop you and make you want to know more and make you buy the record

Do you think what makes a good cover has changed since you started out?

Images on CD albums still need impact, but I don’t think artwork is quite so prominent as it was in the day of the 12’ Vinyl record.

What was the main focus of the shoots you did, what where the bands trying to convey?

The main focus of the shoots was to promote the visual image of the band, styling was very important, the best location or background, clothes and hairstyle. As a band or artist became better known the musical theme became more important.

I think back in the day album art was just another way of the musicians expressing themselves - it went hand in hand with the music.

Do you think that is still the case with musicians of today?

I think most bands have a strong visual presence. Today they will be working to producing videos for YouTube and iPad magazines, plus images for social networking sites. It’s somewhat more open for the artists of today. do you think your work could’ve been better back in the day if you had the technology we have today?

Yes! The improvements in stage lighting, camera technology and postproduction processing make for much better images. I have reworked many of my old photographs to levels that surpass the original photograph with these new digital tools. It’s a great advancement.

What is the perfect photographer and subject relationship?

The best relationships were with artists who worked with you to produce a great image. We would all have ideas of how we should proceed to produce a result that was good for all of us. I like working with art directors because we’d tailor the images to fit the artwork and two people were better than one when promoting an idea for a set up.

Are your shoots usually planned to the point or as relaxed as they come across?

I always did my homework on a band and arrived with ideas. Often when on tour the more relaxed documentary images were taken, but as a photographer you must have ideas.

How important was staging/makeup and set when you first started out?

Hair, make up and perhaps a set to be built has always been an important element of my work.

It has been argued that the importance of album art today is dying out.

What is your response to this?

I think it’s not so important now due to all the other media out there, but there will always be a place in the art world for focusing a bands visual image into LP artwork n

joe strummer

1952-2002

face front you got the future shining like a piece of gold but i swear as we get closer it look more like a lump of coal

Joe Strummer became one of the most recognisable punks on the planet whilst performing with The Clash during the mid-1970s. His views and social commentary coupled with his bruising stage performances connected with the audience on levels that had arguably never been reached.

It was December 1976 and The Clash joined The Sex Pistols on their ‘Anarchy In The UK’ tour and the following year were signed up to CBS Records. Their self-titled debut album was filled with catchy choruses and ideas that would agitate and shake the foundations of society.

Unlike The Sex Pistols, who fell away in a musical sense, The Clash hit back with their second album, Give ‘Em Enough Rope. Their sound had evolved into something that incorporated the group into an American hard rock sense. London Calling, the third album saw them bring elements of their hard rock sound together with a dub and ska texture. The reward for their efforts being that the album was Rolling Stones number one album of the 1980s in the magazines top 100.

It was their ability to blur the lines of racial and musical divides without having a condescending undertone that took them to the heights they achieved. Their fourth album, Sandinista!, was an example of this and saw the band experiment further with rap, folk and funk featuring heavily in the production.

Combat Rock saw The Clash take huge record sales and acclaim in the United States and were dubbed by many quarters to be the next Rolling Stones. But despite efforts by Strummer the group was unable to adapt to the demand and lifestyle of the US and the band came to an end. Strummer’s last performance with The Clash was in 1985.

He later went into film, playing roles in films such as Straight to Hell (1987) and Mystery Train (1989).

His first solo album, Earthquake Weather, came in 1989 and spent a stint standing in for Shane MacGowan as The Pogues frontman.

In 1999 he returned with The Mescaleros. The sound was a clear example of his global musical influences.

In various roles he continued his involvement in music and charity work up until his death.

Joe Strummer, born John Mellor on 21 August 1952, in Ankara, Turkey passed away on 22 December 2002.

The future is unwritten.

Joe Strummer

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Shaun of the Dead:

the Primark edition

They’re wall-to-wall bargains, but have a feel colder than a News of the World Christmas party. Jordan Joice explains why he tries to avoid these cheap highstreet retailers...

If you’ve seen Shaun of the Dead - then that’s what it’s like when I’m forced into the dark depths of Primark.

The majority of the clothes are ‘one size fits all’ and the price tags still have spots of blood on them from the Indian sweatshops where they were made. However, my real issue with Primark isn’t where the clothes are made, or the ethics behind them, it’s the attitude it allows us as a nation - I call it ‘throw-away fashion’.

Britain has always been world renowned for its fashion industry and style icons - quite frankly, we are the best-dressed nation in the world. But with brands like Cedar Wood - Primark’s value range, it’s a wonder we have any pride left in the industry at all. Their prices have meant that clothes are no longer treated with respect, but are instead like a free copy of The Evening Standard after a long day at the office – trampled on daily and then thrown in the bin.

Take ‘The Mods’ for example; their Fred Perry polos were whiter than any of the latest washing

powders could ever hope to achieve. They were hung up as soon as they got home, and their wardrobes held just a few staple items that they would wear daily.

However, these days our wardrobes are crammed to breaking point, with things you’ve barely worn once (or worse, still have the price tag on) and probably won’t ever wear again.

I started to notice this problem when my housemate bought a pair of jeans from the aforementioned hellhole just a week ago. He managed to wear them for two straight weeks, but then when he eventually washed them, (note to guys: that’s gross by the way) – they’d shrunk so much, he couldn’t fit into

them anymore. Was he annoyed? Not a chance, as in his mind - £8 isn’t a lot of money to spend on a pair of jeans that he was only going to wear for 14 days. “Those jeans only cost me 50p a day and I’m used to spending more than that on a bottle of water!” Maybe he’s just a bit arrogant, but I’ve heard it before. Because of the ever lowering price tag, people no longer expect quality and don’t mind a shorter life expectancy on their garments.

My point is, rather than £8 for a pair every two weeks, people should be willing to pay £40 for a pair of jeans that’ll last them for at least a year. In the long run, it is better value for money, and kinder to your wardrobe n

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What goes on tour ( ’ , staysJordanon tour... ) Joice talks to an artists tour manager ‘off the record’ unless you re a tour manager then you tell us

and then ghost writes one of his stories for him...

I’d been touring the festival all summer with a band, but Bestival was the one fest we weren’t booked to play, which meant I could just go for fun, and not have to worry about timing, loading, or sound checking at any point over the weekend.

Curated by DJ Rob Da Bank, Best-Of-All is smaller than Glastonbury, but rivals it with its level of debauchery.

The first drink we had when we got off the ferry was a shot of tequila, where we all just bit straight out of a raw lemon as there wasn’t enough time to find a knife.

We got onto site at about 4pm on friday, worked out where we could go and then let loose. Over the next few days I found myself watching Hot Chip from the side of the stage, who were fucking boring by the way, Nero from the pit, who were bloody brilliant, and Stevie Wonder who was a bit wet because he supposedly hasn’t seen his wife for a while.

The real trouble however happened on the last night. We made friends with the press girls of the festival, and after Stevie had finished, we all poured into the press tent, stole all the booze left from the VIP bar, shut the curtains and

locked the door. Fastforward seven hours, with a few more trips to the bar for our five fingers free discount, it was Monday morning and the sun was shining. Everyone was knackered, the festival site empty, and everyone wanted to go back to the hotel - but no one wanted to do the 15-minute walk to the taxi rank (which also rather inconveniently was on the top of a hill). It was at this point I found myself in tour manager mode for the first time over the weekend.

After managing to convince one of the press girls to give me her production pass, which had a random set of keys on them, I walked out of the tent towards the main stage.

I found an on-duty security guard asleep on a golf buggy, and suddenly I saw how I was getting home that night. I walked up to the guard, shouting in his ear “why are you asleep on duty?!” followed by “I need to take this buggy to collect Stevie Wonder right now”.

He looked at me in a state of shock, but with a quick flash off the pass I’d acquired just moments earlier, he jumped off the buggy and I sat down, crossing all my fingers that one of the keys on the lanyard would work.

Success. The ignition ticked over, I put it into reverse, and did my best Starsky and Hutch U-Turn back to the press portacabin. Everyone hopped on, and off we went, past every security point and steward we saw until we found ourselves doing 20 miles an hour on a Isle Of Wight country road at eight am – with a tailback of at least 20 cars trying to get to work. We got to the hotel eventually, and decided that the best thing to do would be to ditch the car at the side of the road, as although we’re reckless, we’re not vandals.

Waking up five hours later than our check-out time, with hangovers from hell, the receptionist booked us a taxi to the ferry port.

The driver tried to bleed conversation out of us, but no one was in the mood to talk – well, until she asked if “you guys know anything about a rouge golf buggy? I drove past one this morning and there were police forensically looking all over it asking questions”.

We worked out later in the day that if the police had have caught us we’d been done for careless driving, theft, drink driving, no insurance and probably fly tipping. And who said Rock’N’Roll was dead? n

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31 Shane Meadows’ This is England paints a picture that is much wider than the silver screen.

Thomas J. Owen looks at the social realism of the film and working class Britain in the 80s. Focussing on the trends and fashions, cataloguing what England had become...

From the ranting views of a racist to what skinheads represented before the misconstrued message being adopted by a fascist segment.

There are people who remember the movement, music and lifestyles with fondness, and hopefully a few more since Shane Meadows portrayal.

1983. Britain is deep into a Thatcher reign after a landslide Conservative victory sees the Iron Lady re-elected.

32 Despite divided opinions on the Falklands War that had left families living with what the conflict had taken from them. Argentine surrender was a year before but to those who were left fatherless time was of no real importance. And this is where we meet Shaun.

Like many, he lost a parent to the Falklands, and here is a journey of a lad who is looking for some kind of replacement to fill the gap left by his dad’s passing. The effects of a single parent income on Shaun’s wardrobe left him vulnerable to a school bully, a common occurrence to all regardless of the time frame. It’s after a run in with Harvey, the aforementioned bully that he befriends Woody and the gang. The good skinheads, if you will.

Each scene shows much more than the simple story line though with the use of some powerful imagery.

From the derelict and abandoned houses and community centres. where the ‘gang’ find there fun. to the typically 80s housing estates. Whoever found the locations to film has done a top notch job. Or maybe it’s the fact that Grimsby has been left behind in the 1980s? It isn’t alone though, as the country was urbanised by the motorways and flyovers that to this day can leave you feeling like you’ve been hit in the face and knocked backwards two decades.

But are the concrete

structures all that have been left behind from the 80s? Even the rioting reared its head.

The first racist undertones shine through into the film with Combo’s appearance.

Recently out of prison and back into a world where opportunities are few and far between, it is clear that life inside has warped Combo’s mind, becoming somewhat influenced by some unsavoury jailbird fascists. We are introduced to him when he crashes a gathering immediately stirring controversy.

Telling stories of incarceration with his racist ranting sparing no consideration for Milky, who is of West Indian origin.

This divides the group with a few of the more immature members of them that seem to think that he “isn’t that bad”.

With their blinkered views we later seeing them attending a National Front meeting (to which Shaun is convinced to go to), The tactics that are used for ‘recruitment’ mirror those of Nazi Germany. The propaganda and

‘powerful’ speeches playing on people’s anxieties of life. Shaun’s weakness here is the death of his father in what is dubbed ‘a meaningless war’. The high level of unemployment is the weakness of the vast majority of others. The reason being, according to Mr. National Front, is the high levels of immigration.

The main target of which throughout his speech, and discrimination that filtered through real life was the ‘Pakis’. But with other events going full circle from the 80s (unemployment, privatisation, rioting) one can only hope that we don’t see a strong rise of the fascist regimes that we see protesting and marching through our streets because of the uncertainty. Without doubt there are voices in the same vein in modern life but surely as a nation we can manage to avoid the fascist regimes. And for the record, every party of this ilk claim that they “aren’t racist”. Much like the Daily Mail.

Unfortunately Shaun gets caught up in this spiral of hate. Like many did, Combo preyed on Shaun’s youthful ignorance and took him under his (right)wing as he becomes a father figure for the 12 year old. Filling that void that Shaun has needed to fill. The impressionable kid is made to choose between Combo and Woody. Like many

33 others the militant speeches convert Shaun and he joins a campaign of hate on the ‘once great country’. Oh to be young and impressionable?!

Like most eventually come to a realisation, Shaun’s comes when Combo beats Milky to within an inch of his life. Fuelled by hearing of how comfortable life was for Milky and his family. His life is a stark contrast from this and the jealousy takes over as he commits an unspeakable act. Immediately he is hit with regret and over time we see him trying to make amends.

As the series moves on in This is England ’86 and ’88 we see the characters move on with the times into employment, or lack of. We see the fashions and the music changing, with the cast living a typical lifestyle of their age.

The pubs, the footie, and the sex.

And whilst the first instalment set the scene, and introduced the time and characters, the sequels go much deeper in social detail.

An insight of of the era, or for, a gentle reminder. And long may the instalments continue. Whilst providing entertainment and saving the television masses from the so-called real life of Coronation Street and Eastenders.

In terms of British filmmakers who bring a social realism to the screen you will have to go a long way to find better than Shane Meadows n

Capsule reckon Woody is probably listening to...

54-46 Was My Number Toots & The Maytals There, There, My Dear Dexys Midnight Runners Tainted Love Soft Cell Do The Dog The Specials Return Of Django The Upsetters Let’s Dance Jimmy Cliff Warhead U.K. Subs Dark End Of The Street Percy Sledge

34

Behind every great woman is a man

- bollocks!

The history of music production is inherently sexist. On one side of the sound desk, female recording artists are some of the most popular acts of today.

However, the grass is not so green on the other side.

Female producers are a rare breed and have been for a long time. Successful male producers from Phil Spector (John Lennon, Tina Turner, Bob Dylan) to Quincy Jones (Michael Jackson, Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles) have left little room for girls to pave the way in the history of music production.

It’s just presumed that behind any popular female artist’s music is a man, and that women aren’t at all interested in the technical side of music.

Whilst this presumption is not outrageous by any means, it does little to help those female producers trying to change the game.

Artists like Björk, MIA and PJ Harvey are all celebrated, multi-award winning recording artists, who also

Jack Rooke looks at why we presume all music producers have penises... ‘cause they don’t

double up as producers.

However, both Björk and MIA have often been reviewed by ill-informed music critics who presume their music is made by men.

Music magazine Pitchfork claimed that MIA’s second record ‘Kala’ was produced by male dance producer Diplo.

MIA fought back, commenting: “I just find it a bit upsetting and kind of insulting that I can’t have any ideas on my own because I’m a female. After the first time it’s cool, the second time it’s cool, but after the third and fourth time, maybe it’s an issue that we need to talk about.”

Björk posted a blog entitled ‘Time to put it RIGHT!’ after Icelandic newspaper The Grapevine, claimed that her 2001 LP ‘Vespertine’ was solely made by male producer Valgeir Sigur∂sson. She went on to say: “I feel like still today, after all these years, people cannot imagine that women can write, arrange or produce music.”

Steve Levine, chairman of the UK’s Music Producer’s Guild told BBC News: “I’ve only ever worked with one female studio engineer. It’s a sad case. Oddly enough, there are a lot of quite powerful, high position females in record companies - but less in the technical arena.”

The bleak reality is that girls often aren’t interested in sound engineering, mixing or producing music.

That doesn’t mean there are no female producers though. And in a male-

dominated world, we should celebrate and take note of the women who’ve been producing records and giving the blokes a run for Wtheir money.

Producers like Cordell Jackson, who founded Moon Records in 1956 and is responsible for some of the early rock’n’roll singles that stormed America. Known for performing on Late Night with David Letterman in the 80s with her signature red Hagstrom electric guitar, she’s often referred to as the ‘rock’n’roll granny’.

Other producers such as Leanne Unger, who produced, mixed and engineered seven albums for Leonard Cohen as well as triple Grammy winner Trina Shoemaker who produced records for Queens of the Stone Age and Sheryl Crow, are also proof that women can be as successful on the other side of the mixing desk.

And if opinions changed and women were more accepted and celebrated as producers, hopefully more girls would feel encouraged to play alongside men in the game of music production n

36

The Queen Is Dead... and so is the album.

Do you remember the last time you bought and listened to an album from track 1 to 11? Jordan Joice looks at how our current approach to CD’s is ruining music

In a generation where even the latest NOW compilation album is out of date before it’s available to the public, album sales are at an all time low and 12 inch albums just don’t get the respect they used to hold by the fans.

They get ripped for just their singles, illegally downloaded quicker than it takes to make a cup of tea, and used as coasters when you don’t want to scratch the new desk that holds the MP3 filled laptop in your room. But is this lack of respect for LPs actually ruining music for the generations of teens who are

only just discovering it? Is it giving them an experience that’s not even half of what listening to music used to be?

When you read a book, you would never read chapter five, then four, then nine and then seven – you read it chronologically from start to finish, as that’s how you get the most from the author’s delicately woven words. The order of the chapters is how it makes most sense to your head and how you know you should read it, imagine reading the end of Romeo and Juliet before the start? Sure it would still be enjoyable, but definitely not as dramatic.

Yet for some reason when a musician creates an album, with a track listing as thought-out as a plot, does the user now ignore the track order and just listen to the songs they’ve heard on the radio? An album is not just a randomly selected selection of tracks, it’s ordered in a way that actually creates a story that is specifically set for the upmost enjoyment of the music at hand. It’s how the artist wants their music to be heard, so surely that should be respected?

Recently, a group of music enthusiasts have tried to cure this problem.

At Capsule we love vinyl more than we love each other (and our mothers). Here is a part of our office collection.

37 The Classic Album Sundays club is an open to anyone event where you’re not allowed to text, talk or use the toilet whilst the vinyl is spinning for its entirety. A bit excessive some might think, but justifiable because of the times we’re living in. Ran by Colleen Murphy in her North London home, everyone is told to ”stop multi-tasking, sit down, open your ears and do some heavy listening.” A task that might scare any teenager in the current society we’re all part of.

The group consists of all ages and the only rules of joining are that you respect their rules. Each meeting they showcase an-alwaysamazing LP from the past – recent choices being Kate Bush’s The Hounds Of Love, David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust The Spiders From Mars and Get Happy by Elvis Costello – being played out of the best speakers the groups money can buy, on Colleen’s personal record player.

To go back to the initial question, the answer is yes, the youth of today, who are currently being exposed to music for the first time, are no longer getting the experience their formers fortunately got. If they were to buy an album, which is unlikely to happen anyway as they can just stream songs on Spotify these days – another virus on the infestation, they would most probably never listen to it all as they live in a ‘shuffle-

friendly’ generation where they select their favourite songs and then just place them in a ‘top tunes’ playlist.

I actually asked my little brother, aged 15 – an age where I had a favourite album, artist and cover what album he listens to the most, but he didn’t have one.

I asked him what his favourite song was however and he had a dozen, and all were top 40 singles at some point in time. But I can’t help but feel I shouldn’t blame him for that.

But that poses the question: who is to blame for this? Is it the artists? Is it the record labels? Or is it blog’s like Popjustice who feel listening to albums properly (from A-B) is old fashioned? Although it’s not fair to blame one site for this downward spiral of respect, Peter Robinson – editor of the pop site, recently said in an interview with the BBC that every album he owns is split, analysed and then re-ordered. He carried on to explain that if you don’t like a song “let’s just get rid of them”. This view, although hopefully not shared by many, can’t help but sew a seed into the minds of the One Direction generation who believe the aforementioned band are bigger and better than The Beatles.

We need to tackle this problem from the head on. It won’t be easy, but it’s for the greater good of music it needs to happen. Instead of buying your kids or brothers and sisters iTunes

vouchers this Christmas, buy them an album. The older the better, but Flo Rida’s latest hit will suffice as long as you play them the album in its entirety as well.

Don’t let them skip, pause of re-play any of the songs (or spend the whole time playing with their phones) just let them listen and learn what a full album sounds like.

For many, it might the most time they’ve ever spent doing the same thing, and who knows, maybe after hearing a full album from an X Factor wash-up, they might start to appreciate what a real album sounds like anyway (see below for some example albums) n

Albums Capsule Can Listen To All The Way Through Thomas J. The La’s - The La’s Jordan Pulp - His’n’Hers Jack X-ray Spex - Germ Free Katie The Smiths - The Queen Is Dead Lily The White Stripes Elephant

38

THE JACKAMOAN Jack Rooke hates everything, he probably even hates you, but mostly - he hates the modern world

Why am I patronised everytimeIbuymilk? moan: #001 The woman who voices self-service checkouts is a condescending bitch.

Her incessant moaning is reminiscent of a scathing mother-in-law reminding you of all your flaws. At any given moment in the checkout procedure, she wants to reduce you to tears.

She begins her psychological attack on your mental health with a comment that makes you instantly feel inferior.

“Place your first item in the bagging area”.

As you begin to scan your items, she evolves into a snobby, unreasonable woman who clearly disagrees with alcohol consumption and judges you for purchasing reduced items.

Scanning any six-pack of beers involves being treated like a child, as she bellows out: “Approval needed”.

She tell-tales on you beckoning an I.D. check from a zombie disguised as a checkout superviser, who makes you feel ridiculous for even contemplating purchasing booze in the first place.

They take around five

minutes to turn up to your checkout machine, look you up and down, assess your driving license, smirk at your old haircut and then give the weakest nod known to man to approve your purchase. It drives you to need a drink.

Furthermore, as someone who likes to take advantage of the 8.55pm reduced item super-sale, the self-checkout lady, who I will name Patricia the Patroniser, makes it as difficult as possible to scan reduction barcodes.

A pint of milk reduced to 27p still scans as £1.09 and the Ginsters cornish pasty that you don’t really want but will purchase because it’s priced down to 42p, comes up as £1.59. She doesn’t want to give you a bargain. She wants you to pay, in hard-earned pennies (or notes).

Patricia’s psychotic nagging includes the often repetitive “Unexpected item

in bagging area”, which yet again halts the whole process of purchasing any thing you actually want.

At the end of the ordeal, she bluntly demands you to “Select your payment type”, before rudely interrupting you with: “Do you have a Nectar card?”

Of course I don’t have a pissing Nectar card. Stop hassling me. Three seconds later. “Have you swiped your Nectar card?” Her upward inflections make me want to pull her plug.

Furthermore, if you take longer than two seconds to choose your payment method, she further scowls at you with: “Insert cash or touch (patronising pause)… pay with card”.

The trick here is to never pay by cash. She will give you change all in one-pence coins just to fuck you off further.

“Please take your change.” she sneers.

As if instructing a blind man, she then states the obvious by inputting: “Notes are dispensed below the scanner.”

Finally, to finish off leaving you feeling stressed, depressed and wishing you had gone to the acne-ridden teenager on the checkouts, she bids you a quite patronising farewell.

“Thank you for using Sainsbury’s self-checkout” n