The Event - Issue 182 by Concrete - the official student newspaper of UEA.

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Issue: 131

Art Fashion Film Music Television

Children’s Illustrator Satoshi Kitamura Inside... Nine Black Alps Clive James 3-Iron

Contents Features

Centre Spread

Satoshi Kitamura 10 & 11

TV 4

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Reviews

Art 9

TV 14

Fashion 12 & 13

Art 15

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Film 16 & 17

Regulars

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Creative Writing 8 Listings 6 Horoscopes 8

Music 18 & 19

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Hello Once again, paper that could have been used for such eloquent and insightful comments on the issues so artfully addressed by the en- suing pages, is instead simply ﬁlled with my well meaning but badly put ramblings. There is a valuable lesson in this - you should be reading those pages right now. However, this section will get better. As anyone who has ever had to balance their uni work with any other commitment will know, it’s bloody hard to do sometimes, and a fortnight gets shorter and shorter. At least, from everyone working on The Event’s point of view it gets shorter - I know it may feel like

Editor-in-chief 4BSBI &EXBSEFT a long time before you get to see those lovely piles of papers fresh from the printers, crisp and ready to be cracked open. All that is left to be done is to thank everyone who has worked on this issue, and there are certainly a lot of you! Feel smug - you deserve it!

Kate

Competitions WIN BROTHERS IN ARMS EARNED IN BLOOD™ ON XBOX With its unprecedented combination of authenticity, compel- ling story and squad-based action, the Brothers in Arms Road to Hill 30™ has established itself as a benchmark for military action games. Brothers in Arms Earned in Blood™ adds new features and game modes and builds upon the elements that made Brothers in Arms Road to Hill 30™ a runaway success. *G ZPV XBOU UP HFU ZPVS NJUT PO POF PG UIF mWF DPQJFT PG #SPUIFST JO "SNT &BSOFE JO #MPPE XF WF HPU UP HJWF BXBZ TFOE VT ZPVS BOTXFS UP UIJT RVFTUJPO 8IBU DPVOUSZ JT #SPUIFST JO "SNT &BSOFE JO #MPPE TFU JO " 'SBODF # #SJUBJO $ 4VOOZ #FSNVEB

Editor ,BUF #SZBOU Deputy Editor "OOB 4UFXBSE Art Editor 3PBOOB #POE Contributors: Ben Baruch, Sam Webber, Lily Hall, Melanie Spencer, Charlene Price

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Film Editor 4FCBTUJBO .BOMFZ Contributors: Dean Bowman, Mike Cumes, Andy Judson, Natasha Kundaiker, Richard Boakes,

Music Editor $IBSMFT 3VNTFZ Contributors: Kelvin Knight, Tom Souter, Rob Simpson, Alex Kaldwell, Chris Hyde, George Wyndham

TV Editor $ISJT )ZEF Contributors: Becky Rutt, Rebecca Hunt, Kim Dyer

Creative Writing Editor .FSJOOF 8IJUUPO Contributors: Jonathon Tosch, Ben Woods, Anna Steward

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Feature

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icture the scene: you find yourself awake at eight in the morning thanks only to that nine o’clock seminar scheduled by administration solely to aggravate hangovers. After decid- ing to ease your way into the dull, winter day by watching some harmless television, you hear the resounding laughter of the studio audience on one of the numerous, indistin- guishable American sitcoms paraded on Channel 4 at this unpleasant time of day. Yet another stressed punchline, as hideously inane as the last, rolls out of the script, greeted with further auditory mirth. All across Norwich, while nursing mugs of tea, we humble, yet ever so cynical students lament the concept of the laughter track, put to such dismal use in disguising the mediocre comedic stylings of consist- ently uninventive writers. So, being inquisitive, a little reluctant to do the work that is actually pressing upon our slumber, we find ourselves questioning whether, in all truth, there is a positive purpose to load- ing shows with the merriment of strangers. Posing this question of whether laughter tracks should ever be on television, in the form of a studio audience or as the infamous “canned laughter”, can often result in a determined positive answer. The reasons for such decisiveness? As they say, laughter is conta- gious. Hearing the studio react to a gag can, for whatever reason, trigger the same response in us. There are, it seems, shows that simply suit the laughter track. After all, it is difficult to think of an episode of Friends sans imposed chuckle. Yet this is not quite the issue at hand. True, there appears to be a place in comedy for this attribute, but is its presence due to the poor quality of writing, or of the industry as a whole? For instance, picture the group of writers fine-tuning their script and coming to page 6’s below-par joke that nobody can seem to fix. After kicking about a few ideas the decision is made, a little too easily, to get the can-opener and plug the void with the whooping guffaws of an audience. Even if, against all expecta- tions, it just so happens that said joke does bring about the laughter of the studio viewers without the need for its canned counterpart, one cannot help believing that, thanks to this televisual quirk, another half-assed piece of writing has slipped through the quality-control net. Here we are, yet again, being told when to laugh, and why? Sim- ply because, in a large portion of cases, you will not be compelled to by the script alone. This overpowering presence does not, however, have to be a negative and could be quite the opposite. The writers of the type of comedy performed in front of an audience, instead of pasting

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liven a stagnant scene. Surely, then, it is quite normal to question why exactly The Flintstones, a beloved show the world over, found itself throwing added laughter into its cartoon melting pot. Animat- ed programmes, many would heatedly contest, can surely have no place for canned laughter. There can, of course, be no impression that we are watching something acted out live in front of an audience and there is something quite disconcerting about the pretence that we are. In fact, it becomes more difﬁcult to become immersed in a cartoon riddled with this unusual dose of reality. How exactly this was considered a wise step in furthering the show’s quality is hard to tell, and so we can only speculate. Perhaps it was believed that, without the laughter track, older viewers would dismiss the show as something purely for children. This way, and maybe only in this way, could the “adult” cartoon be born, paving the way for the likes of The Simpsons, free from the restraints of needing the same means to prove its status as something beyond a kid’s show. That the decision to include laughter on The Flintstones might have been because of the need for this distinction suggests that it is not solely a quality concern and that genre has as much effect. It would largely be agreed that, despite the inclusion of a laughter track, I’m Alan Partridge remains one of the nation’s favourite comedies. This could most certainly keep an audience splitting their sides without the infectious laughter of others, yet it persists in pursuing Alan’s outrageous habits with that very device. Quite needless, it seems, but not so out of place. In a similar vein we might look at another type of comedy - for instance, The Ofﬁce. Being a mockumentary series, the effect would be tainted no end by the insertion of canned laughter. The show, as anyone in Britain who has ever seen a television would be

aware, was a huge hit because it was a perfectly pitched comedy and, as much as a chortling audience would have ruined the illu- sion, it would have shattered the subtlety of its finest moments. Move onto, its counterpart overseas, the indefensibly poor The Of- fice: An American Workplace (which managed only to take a formula of undeniable success and bastardise it in the most offensive fashion to the eyeballs of viewers everywhere) and we have a debate on our hands as to whether the laughter track could actually save any comedy. Like its British predecessor, its style would be destroyed by disturbing the scenes with laughter, but, as subtlety appears to have been swiftly discarded when writing began, the hootings of an audience may have actually helped produce the required response in the viewer. After all, a laughter track’s duty, it seems, is both to tell people that a joke has been and gone and to provoke in them the same reaction. So we bring ourselves to accept that the most overt and least witty of jokes can bring us to smile as we watch another repeated episode of Friends. The laughter has set a tone;; it sounds as if we are in for a fun half-hour, so why not sit back and accept the fact that, while the writing lacks a deft skill present in the sharper shows we like to admit to enjoying, there is something (shall we say, at a push) acceptable about such lacklustre comedy writing. Perhaps it is at the detriment of an industry, of the intellect of humanity, but sometimes it can be too readily forgotten that our close friend, the TV, is indeed there for entertainment. There is room in the comic world for the smarts of The Office, but when we are bleary-eyed and tender, we should let ourselves in for something just that little too obvious, propelled into our lives with the added audible delight of other unassuming viewers.

Feature

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he Cinema of South Korea has deservedly fallen under the spotlight of international acclaim in recent years;; one of its oft-cited characteristics being a stylish and often daring use of violence. From the murderous ex- cess of Park Chan-Wook’s studies of vengeance, Sym- pathy for Mr Vengeance and Old Boy, to Bong Joon-Ho’s subver- sive and sadistic use of slapstick in Memories of Murder, violence seems to be an integral part of all the Korean films that have made their impression in the West. The impact of these films is perhaps unsurprising given the current trend in Hollywood cinema towards a stylised pulpy violence itself clearly influenced by Asian films (The Matrix, Kill Bill). On the surface at least, Korean cinema seems to perfectly fulfill Tarantino’s commitment to the use of violence as a purely aesthetic element, stripped of any moral dimension, which explains the sheer amount of Korean films currently being remade in Hollywood. Of the half dozen or so directors whose films are circulating freely amongst western cineastes Kim Ki-duk is undoubtedly the most lauded and divisive of them all. Coming late to filmmaking from a working class background of hard factory work and military service, Kim Ki-duk is an enigma from the start. With no film school qualification or formal training to his name he is that most elusive and unpredictable of figures, the self taught auteur, embraced and reviled in equal measure by international cineastes and the critical establishment. Kim’s films are renowned for their striking visual finesse and painterly qualities and he is famed as a fast filmmaker, a compulsive storyteller who is bursting with creative energy. Since his debut with Crocodile in 1996 he has directed no less than ten films in eight years, and from the beginning his work has been driven by an uncompromising, taboo-confronting impulse. In his film notes to the DVD release of Bad Guy on the Tartan Asia Extreme label, Jamie Russell nicely sums up Kim Ki-duk as “South Korean Cinema’s first agent provocateur.” Kim has divided the critical community with many high pro- file cultural commentators, such as the don of Asian cinema Tony Rayns, attempting to undermine his growing reputation even as many festival programmers are attempting to nurture it. Whilst his supporters celebrate the visceral and surreal qualities of his aston- ishingly rich visual style, Kim’s many detractors, who mainly come from the feminist camp, dismiss this dreamlike imagery as mere juvenile fantasy and perceive a thread of chauvinism and misogyny running through his films. Although it is true that sexuality, violence and gender politics are mixed in complicated and troubling ways in these films, leading Rayns to label Kim Ki-duk a “sexual terrorist”, it does not automatically follow that Kim is beyond the pale nor that his work should be so easily dismissed. Many of Kim’s films deal with the theme of prostitution in unconventional, and to some unacceptable, ways. The most notorious of these films is Bad Guy (2000) which follows college student Seon-hwa as she is sold into prostitution after committing a minor transgression (she takes a wallet she finds in a shop). It transpires that her fall from grace is orchestrated by a pimp, the eponymous bad guy Han-ge, in an attempt to bring her down to his level. Before she knows it she is forced to take a loan out on her body and shipped off to the Seoul red-light district in order to pay back her ‘victim’, a rich man who becomes a fleeting symbol of the patriarchal order that is her undoing. At first naturally resistant to the course that her life has taken, Seon-hwa gradually begins to conform to her new role, even falling for her kidnapper, who desires her obsessively and watches her being raped, and eventually pleasured, by her clients through a two-way mirror. Though in many ways Kim’s most misguided film, Bad Guy has nonetheless, by dint of its being his most commercially successful, cast a shadow over his entire oeuvre. The critical perception of Kim

4QSJOH 4VNNFS "VUVNO 8JOUFS BOE 4QSJOH Ki-duk perhaps depends too heavily on the tendency to praise or condemn his films according to a convenient but rigidly simplistic concept of the artistic persona culled from Bad Guy. Despite this image of the director as a bigoted monster, Kim is admired by his cast and crew as a kind and transparent person. Kim Yoo-Seok, who plays the main role in The Isle, perhaps captures this paradox between the director and his material best when he says, “he is like a child playing with a gun.” For better or worse, Kim Ki-duk is a figure whose reputation precedes him and few directors in recent years have suffered such unwavering critical hostility as a result. However Kim Ki-Duk’s two most recent, and most widely celebrated films, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring and 3-Iron, considerably undermine his reputation as a cynical provocateur, although they have predictably failed to reverse established

,JN IBT EJWJEFE UIF DSJUJ DBM DPNNVOJUZ +BNJF 3VT TFM TVNT IJN VQ BT A4PVUI ,PSFB T mSTU BHFOU QSPWP DBUFVS 5POZ 3BZOT DBMMT IJN B ATFYVBM UFSSPJTU critical opinion. Both films are uncharacteristically introspective and meditative, using violence in a highly effective and restrained manner as part of the overall narrative logic, and there is very little here that could be considered chauvinistic. The ideological and aesthetic transformation in Kim’s recent work is interestingly dramatised in the self-conscious Spring, Sum- mer, Autumn, Winter and Spring. Set in a monastery that floats upon an isolated lake, the film poetically explores the four stages of a monk’s life, symbolically broken down into seasons. Like 3-Iron, it is a film about morality, a theme that is explored through the prism of crime and punishment and, more specifically, the Buddhist prin-

ciple of karma. The young monk is attracted away from the spiritual sanctum of the monastery by a young woman bought there to be cured of her illness, and returns years later after he has murdered her in a jealous rage. His master punishes the wayward monk and makes him carve an elaborate sutra out on the monastery’s raft as an act of contrition. Meanwhile two detectives turn up to capture the fugitive but are forced to wait until he finishes his task. The detectives, those key tropes of the Asian gangster movie, are rendered utterly redundant by the narrative, which Kim seems to be deliberately purging of all unnecessary generic and violent elements. This striving towards stylistic purity, which accompanies the monk’s own quest for redemption, is further suggested by the simple, poetic structure of the film, which gives it the feel of a haiku sequence. Kim Ki-duk has already explored the theme of the moral redemption of a violent man, most obviously in Bad Guy, but here he places himself, literally, in that role. By playing the older monk himself, Kim makes the monk’s striving towards redemption after committing a violent act (against a woman no less) a parable for his own attempt to reinvent himself, by shedding the stigma of misogyny and arbitrary violence that has sullied much of his work. Few directors, at least in recent times, have used the cinematic medium in such a personal and introspective manner, or attempted to challenge and redress critical assumptions about their work so directly, and this certainly makes for a film far richer in meanings than its simple structure suggests. Kim’s new film 3-Iron (out on DVD on 7 November, and reviewed in this Event) focuses on the taciturn Tae-suk, an enigmatic drifter who borrows people’s houses whilst they are out, existing on the fringe of society and apart from its rules until he stumbles upon and falls in love with an abused wife named Sun-hwa, who sees in him a kindred spirit and joins him on his wanderings. At once a poignantly beautiful and transgressive love story and a sophisticated existential meditation on personal responsibility, choice and the relativity of moral values, 3-Iron suggests that Kim’s transformation is not merely temporary but part of a new maturity in his work. With his reputation and critical animosity growing in more or less equal measure, the time is ripe for a wider ranging and deeper understanding of Kim Ki-duk’s films.

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Listings

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alloween night and a creeping low mist has eerily descended around Norwich. October 31st is the release date of their new single ‘Just Friends’ and Nine Black Alps are playing in the Waterfront tonight to mark the occasion. I arrive just in time to catch drummer James Gal- ley and have a few words with him before he puts on his blood spattered Halloween costume and starts the show. He doesn’t seem to mind that I tried to interview the wrong bloke first and sit- ting on a raised wooded platform with a beer in his hand he seems calm, confident and willing to talk. He already had a grilling from my friends but as I was late he is quite prepared to go through it all again, what a nice guy! Chris Martin came out the other day and said that Nine Black Alps were the most exciting thing to come out of Britain in the last year. When reminded of this fact drummer James Galley said;; ‘It’s a great compliment but I hate Coldplay… I’ve never liked Coldplay, its too wet and its got no balls or energy at all and it’s the most morose music I’ve ever heard.’ In fairness the hard driven, teeny angst fuelled music of Nine Black Alps couldn’t really be further away from the likes of Coldplay. James said that musical influences of the group were varied, his however stemmed from Greenday, The Offspring, The Pixies, Led Zeppelin and of course Nirvana. Indeed you can hear a great deal of Cobain, Novoselic and Grohl in Nine Black Alps. Tracks like “Shot Down” and “Not Everyone” should be instant manna for a generation that still hold Kurt in saintly regard and it is no wonder that critics have hailed them as the new grunge band in town. Obviously there is a rich tradition of alternative music to come out of Manchester and when asked about their northern musical roots in common with The Smiths, Joy Division and the Happy Mondays, James said;; “Personally I am not at all influenced by that Manchester scene thing, groups like that were definitely around when we were growing up but we were all about the American rock and metal bands. It seems like loads of bands try to rip of Oasis, Joy Division and stuff like that but we’re so bored of all that you know. Don’t get me wrong we are very proud to come from Manchester, it’s a great city but the scene has been dead for roughly ten years. To keep that tradition alive you have to come up with new stuff and we feel like we’re doing that.”

Talking to James gave us an idea of how suddenly these four young men from Manchester have hit the big time. The band whom only formed two years ago have moved very quickly from playing house parties and pubs for their mates to venues such as Liver- pool’s Carling Academy and London’s Astoria. The stunning success of their debut album ‘Everything Is’ means big things for the Alps and they seem blown away by the thrill of it all. “The tour has been terriﬁc so far, um we’ve played like the biggest venues that we’ve ever played in…this has been our biggest headline tour to date. In Birmingham we played to like 2,000 people. It’s been a real step up for us.” When asked about the reaction of the audience at their shows James said almost shyly “People seem to enjoy themselves at our gigs.” Modestly he played down the bands success by pointing out that there was no media frenzy surrounding the group. “You won’t ﬁnd us talking on Jonathan Ross” he said almost proudly. Nine Black Alps seem to have done it the old fashioned way, getting their name out there into CD collections by constant savage touring in the UK last year. Through all the obvious prob- lems and trials of a young group making it famous, there seems to still be a classic group mentality about the band. “Overriding

/JOF #MBDL "MQT TFFN UP IBWF EPOF JU UIF PME GBTI JPOFE XBZ HFUUJOH UIFJS OBNF PVU UIFSF JOUP $% DPM MFDUJPOT CZ DPOTUBOU TBWBHF UPVSJOH JO UIF 6, MBTU ZFBS egos really aren’t an issue for us” he laughed. No Pete Doherty’s in the band then? “No one’s trying to take control and it seems that if one of us has an idea the rest will be happy to follow. Then we all thrash it out in the rehearsal room.” When listing to their album their songs can sometimes seem insanely repetitive and the word ‘thrashing’ seems about right. However beneath the distortion ped- als and Nirvana like feedback there is an undeniable richness in their music. On tracks like ‘Cosmopolitan’ and ‘Unsatisﬁed’ The Alps create layers of melodic harmonies over the fast and manically strummed bar chords by Sam Forrest backed up by David Jones or

Martin Cohen. When asked about their song writing James said, “We all have a big sharing with the song writing but I wouldn’t want to go anywhere near the lyrics, that job belongs to Sam (Forrest). Its like on that Metallica DVD ‘Some Kind of Monster’ when they are all writing lyrics together, that just seems the worst thing in the world to me and I can’t ever imagine writing lyrics collectively. When one person is singing then it has to be personal to them you know.” The question I’ve been waiting to ask comes next: really James what is with your bands name Nine Black Alps, I mean did you all go on a dark skiing holiday in France or something? It’s a mysterious name for sure. He revealed all by saying “It’s a line from a poem called ‘the Couriers’ by Sylvia Plath and it has absolutely so signifi- cance whatsoever… we needed a name because we were going to play our first gig in Manchester. So Martin owned a book of poetry and we just looked through it randomly and like picked out words and phrases that looked cool. We had a list of ten and that was the least worst of them all. It was something different and a bit dark and it didn’t start with ‘the,’ bands that start with ‘the’ annoy me. We have to correct people who call us The Nine Black Alps.” Tonight the band could not have a better name. The Waterfront is appropriately decked out with fake cobwebs, pumpkins and bats, hung from the ceiling. Nine Black Alps appear on stage in full festive costume, and before the band are ready, the audience are roaring approval at the distinctive opening bars of Cosmopolitan. The opening track becomes a runaway ghost train, steaming through haunting melodic verses towards a climactic eruption, which, when it comes, is all the more satisfying for the context of the performance. The re- frain: “We’ll be dead by sunrise,” can only be truly appreciated when theatrically delivered by frontman Sam Forrest wearing a black cloak, hood down to reveal pigtails, and eye make-up, leading a band of zombies and reapers. Support band Giant Drag were just as eager to enter into the spirit of the evening, bringing the American fervour for Halloween to the festivities. “Unfortunately Nine Black Alps will not be playing tonight, as they’ve been killed,” announced singer Annie, “You’ll see.” A smear of blood on the side of her face proves unnecessary. Her effortless eccentricity is enough to hold any audience, any night of the year. Nine Black Alps play for little less than forty-five minutes, racing through the majority of the tracks on debut album Everything Is. They are tight, intense and unrelenting. For the first three tracks Forrest says nothing. After this he occasionally exclaims his distinctively Mancu- nian appreciation of the crowds response to the songs. “Ta, cheers.” He omits any comment about new single Just Friends, allows the track its own voice, with which it demonstrates faultless confidence and urgency, being rewarded with one of the best receptions of the night. The nauseatingly good single Not Everyone, which has been compared extensively to the early 90s grunge scene, is clearly another crowd favourite, and the invigorating, lively performance dispels any myths that the band want to refresh the genre which shot Nirvana to stardom. But for Intermission, which, as you might expect, arrives in the middle of the set, and which demonstrates the eclectic tastes and talents of the band, every song is bursting at the seams with energy, longing to become the next on the playlist. Having declared the previous track the final one, the band, with little more than a look and a nod, launch into Shot Down, an agreeable pounding climax to a concise, vigorous performance. Enter Micah, drummer and keyboardist in Giant Drag, dressed as a zombie, walking like a zombie, to wrestle Forrest to the ground, revealing to the majority of the audience that he has been playing barefoot throughout the show. They may not cause a fuss, they certainly don’t waste time, they may not even wear shoes, yet Nine Black Alps proved their worth this evening as an awe-inspiring live act.

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Creative Writing TAXI Cabby’s Corner

Cabby’s corner is dedicated to the taxi drivers of Norwich with their endless facts, stories and revelations. Next time you get a taxi bring your notepad and email your own cabby’s corner to m.whitton@uea.ac.uk So how many freshers you slept with then? I’d have gone to Uni, but they didn’t have all the girls like they have now. In my day the only girls that went to Uni wore glasses and sweaters and played the guitar. But some of the girls I’ve picked up from your uni here…well, they all look pretty easy to me. My son is a bloody prat right. He’s seventeen yeah, and he’s been with the same girl for three years. I keep trying to tell him, at his age he should be shagging around. He tells me he’s in love and that just gets me mad. In love? I ask you, do you think a seventeen year old should be with the same girl for three years. I think It’s sick...

I needed a leak, it was desperate. The sun licked air lazed solemnly – Whilst I slipped on shoes that rubbed my toes, Stepping out to more muddy mileage. Somewhere between I wandered off, Waving to a stranger that didn’t know my name Nor generate any sense – Of feeling that could lace me up. I took a deep breath, but anxiety had gone, Groaning in defence of its presence, I plodded on the beyond, ‘Come what may’ was an absurdity I used to speak, instead I listened. The violet night breathed so easy, Playing Jazz with crickets and trafﬁc I forgot myself- To be alone and vulnerable Little pieces of forgotten comforts, Slowly jaded, And lost. Ben Woods

The Growing Popularity of Firs & Pines That night the leaves fell hard like coins and sunk their shapes into the ground and made deep impressions in it. Someone slipped into the dent of an oak leaf... someone else into a maple...another an elm... whole woods closing upon themselves...

Locust Place your hand on inches of land Hover black over an atlas map.

Place your hand on inches of land Hover black over an atlas map. While winds bend grasses back Durian fruits fall across Vietnam. Hatching has occurred near the delta Where rains fall through the night. A bank of cloud hails swarms Of locusts, black arrow down. This,this is some other sky Where white ants burrow In conical mounds as salty As the cu chi tunnels are orderly.

I Wandered Off at 3am

I am so heavily invested in the world

While winds bend grasses back Durian fruits fall across Vietnam.

Hatching has occurred near the delta Where rains fall through the night. A bank of cloud hails swarms Of locusts, black arrow down. This,this is some other sky Where white ants burrow

In conical mounds as salty As the cu chi tunnels are orderly. Anna Steward

Place your hand on inch Hover black

The priest was very busy that season, consoling the bereaved with rakes and bags. Next spring one would frequently hear the remaining shudder when the green broke out. Jonathon Tosch

The Birds

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the dust is paying me dividends I am rich with clutter and I am bored with everything I do. At twilight I watch the birds fall down from the wire and then rise up again

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Did they ﬁnd something valuable there I am at the end of my wit and I am tired My boxes are still by the door I am so insecure I keep rising off my chair Jonathon Tosch

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HOROSCOPES Aquarius: Jan 20 - Feb 18

Sagittarius: Nov 22 - Dec 21

You shouldn’t have done that. Mars is a vengeful planet and has aligned with your stars. You can try apologis- ing but the next fortnight will inevitably bare witness to your comeuppance

You should really give your mother a ring. You said you’d phone her at the end of last week and now she’s wor- ried sick. The stars this week suggest that it’s all about family. So call her.

Aries: Mar 21 - Apr 19

Leo: Jul 23 - Aug 22

Scorpio: Oct 24 - Nov 21

You should deﬁnitely buy a lottery ticket this week. You won’t win of course, but the anticipation will bring a much needed thrill to your otherwise dull Saturday.

Your lucky words are “eat” and “lots”. Your stars reveal that if you go down to the diner and spend a tenner then the rest of your week will be smooth and blissful. Always ask for seconds.

This fortnight will be pretty so so. Nothing great will happen, but no serious harm will come to you if you see what I mean. Stars are like that sometimes. But a prophesy is a prophesy.

Cancer: Jun 22 - Jul 22

Libra: Sept 23 - Oct 23

Taurus: Apr 20 - May 20

Didn’t the cartoon hedgehog teach you anything? Look left and right and THEN cross the road. The stars have seen that BMW coming around the corner – make sure you do!

Wow. I’ve seen Venus align in all sorts of seductive ways, but I’ve never seen it orbit quite so passionately through Libra before. You are deﬁnitely getting laid this week.

Good things come in small packages, but big packages are so…well, nice and big. Size counts this fortnight. Go for big, go for huge, go for massive. Super size your lifestyle and it be better for it.

Pisces: Feb 19 - Mar 20

Virgo: Aug 23 - Sept 22

This fortnight friends will let you down, family will bring hardship, work will make you stressed and your love life will collapse. Sorry, but the stars

Never underestimate the power of a good break. Bunk that seminar, you didn’t do the reading anyway, and go to Cromer for the day. Fish and chips on the

Capricorn: Dec 22 - Jan 19 Have you seen the night sky recently? You don’t have to be an expert astrol- oger like me to see that Jupiter moving through Capricorn is gonna reek havoc on your social life. Look up, and see for yourself.

Gemini: May 21 - Jun 21

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can’t be controlled and I just tell it like it is.

I can’t work out if it’s a star or a me- teor aligning with Sagittarius. If it’s a star, you will lose weight, achieve that ﬁrst and ﬁnd a quid on the road. A me- teor represents certain death.

beach will put everything in perspective.

Feature

Clive Talkin’

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live James visited UEA last week to speak at the Literary Festival, and The Event was able to catch up with him at Waterstone’s after his entertaining lecture and almost an hour’s worth of book signing. He sat down for the interview with a large glass of red wine in one hand and the rest of the bottle in the other. He was more than willing to talk about his extensive and varied career, as well as his experiences as an expat Aussie who has been resident in the UK for over forty years. Born in Sydney in 1939, James has reﬂected deeply on his early years in all his writing, and particularly in his best selling three- part autobiography ‘Always Unreliable’. He was keen to point out how his writing is still deeply inﬂuenced by his childhood memories in Australia, “As I’ve got even older the memories have got even younger and now I’m remembering things that happened to me

i*O GBDU * BDUVBMMZ TUBZFE PO UP EP B 1I% TP UIBU * DPVME CF 1SFTJEFOU PG 'PPUMJHIUT 5IBU JT B IJUIFSUP VO SF WFBMFE TDBOEBM PG NZ MJGF w when I was two”. He went on to say, “I won’t go into these memories in detail because I am saving them up for my fourth volume of memoirs which will be called ‘My name in lights’. Nominally it will be about my career in show business but it will also contain some very early memories.” After attending Sydney Technical High School and Sydney Uni- versity where he was literary editor of the University newspaper Honi Soit, he spent a year working on the magazine page of the Sydney Morning Herald before heading to England. He says of his homeland in the early 60s, “In those days Australia was perceived by everybody who was going to do the sort of things that I wanted to do, as being a bit of a backwater. The perception wasn’t really accurate, but Australia was already changing. The migrants were changing it, but we didn’t stop that”. He clearly is happy to re-tell the story of how he originally came to Britain in 1961. “We all piled on a ship and came to Britain. Many of us almost starved to death, but that’s what you did!” James was happy to explain that whilst many of the people of his generation thought they were being radical by moving halfway across the world, in fact they were anything but, “Everybody thinks they are original, but mainly they do what everybody else is doing and that’s what my gang did”. In his memoirs, Clive James has explained how much of a failure he was in the early 1960s in London and how he was able to escape this dismal situation by getting a place at Cambridge Uni- versity to read for a second undergraduate degree. “It would not have been enough to say that I was a failure in London. One had to convey the way failure felt: how the clothes slept in to keep one warm looked wrong the next day, how a letter of rejection could be distinguished from a letter of acceptance before it was opened, how one drank to quell one’s nagging conscience about having bor- rowed the money with which to drink. In the next generation, young people needed a heroin to live like that. I managed it through sheer talent. Cambridge was my way out, if not up”. Clive James told Concrete more speciﬁcally, “The story is told of how I was a notable failure in London in the early years of the 60s and how I had to get safe and above all I needed to get warm.

At Cambridge of course the rooms were warm, so I managed to get into Cambridge.” When it was pointed out that he was obviously clever enough to be offered a place at Pembroke College to read English, he responded, “Only just. I was clever enough to have a Professor back in Australia who was ready to recommend me. I probably stole the place from somebody who deserved it better and that’s something that has been on my conscience ever since!” He writes movingly of this period of his life in the third volume of memoirs ‘May week was in June’, “Cambridge was my personal playground. It would be useless for me to pretend otherwise. I would be surprised if nostalgia for those easy years did not drip from the following pages like sweat. In Cambridge in the sixties, my course was altered and fixed, for good or ill. For this reason though I still spend a good deal of time there, the place is always in the past to me, as epoch-making as my first pair of long pants, and almost, and almost as glamorous. The spires, the lawns, the spring alliance of jonquils and daffodils: I hardened my heart against these things, and they all went to my head”. When not studying, and one gets the impression that James was not the most committed student-though he got a 2:1 in his finals-, he was busy writing and then rehearsing and performing with Footlights, the world famous Cambridge University Drama Society. This was the part of his Cambridge career that he enjoyed the most. Bill Oddie and Eric Idle were among his contemporaries together with one of the first women allowed to join Footlights. Like Clive James, she was a straight talking Australian and her name was Germaine Greer. “Well Germaine was bright. I mean Germaine was incontestably academically bright. I was not!” After he finished his degree course he became the President of Footlights, and this celebrated position certainly set him on the road to greater success. He had to find a suitable reason to spend another year in Cambridge, and admitted that he had to mislead the university authorities, “In fact I actually stayed on to do a PhD so that I could be President of Footlights. That’s is a hitherto un- revealed scandal of my life. That really was a stroke;; I should never

have pulled that one! I never finished the PhD and had no intention of finishing it!” In his latest publication ‘The meaning of Recognition’ which is a collection of essays and articles he has written, James writes extensively about the concept of celebrity. When asked if he liked the way in which celebrity culture has changed since the 1960s he replied, “Yes I do, because if everybody gets as famous as Jade Goody then it ceases to matter which is really what we want. We have got to the stage now where Madonna can fall on her head and nobody cares very much. That’s the way it ought to be.” He went on to stress that merit is being recognised more than it ever has been, “Now people are being admired for achievement. It’s not enough just to be a well-known Hollywood actor anymore. You’ve got to be Denzel Washington. You’ve got to be really able to do something. I find in my own life I haven’t lost anything by leaving TV. There was a time when journalists would presume you were dead if you weren’t on television. Now it’s not quite the same.” When asked about the ‘Postcard’ series of documentaries featur- ing different countries and cultures of the world, for which he is most famous, Clive James spoke movingly of this period of his working life, “I wrote these programmes very carefully. Some of my best writing is in Postcard from Los Angeles for example or at the end of ‘Postcard from New York’. I know where the great paragraphs are and I know which bits were really hard to do”. Our fifteen minutes with the great man concluded with a brief question about whether he thought there had been a decline in British made television drama given the success of American made shows. He responded, ” There is no decline, but you can’t match the yanks in stuff like that, because of the depth that they will put into the writing. You can never do a gangster series that competes with the Yanks, because let’s face it, nobody gives a shit about British crime!” It is an interesting note to conclude with, but a humorous and deeply intelligent comment from a particularly interesting man. As he said towards the end of our allotted time, “You’re getting some good stuff out of me tonight. Now what happened to that bottle?”.

Event 9 The

Feature

The Art of Kitamura

it, ‘Kitamura’s originality lies in the imaginative use he makes of the cartoonist’s art. Deceptively simple, it is at the service of a remark- able sense of design and real gift for narrative.’ For his first book, ‘Angry Arthur’ he won the Mother Goose Award for best new illustrator, followed shortly by the Signal prize for children’s poetry for a book of poems called ‘Sky in the Pie’ written by Roger McGough. Satoshi’s artistic originality is perhaps partly due to the fact he never trained academically as an artist or attended an art college. He was born in Tokyo, where he spent his childhood, but moved to Long- don at the age of twenty-three, and has since spent the most part of his life travelling between the two cities. He left school at the age of seventeen, and although he says he always enjoyed drawing as a child – he started as young as four, following in the footsteps of an artisti- cally inclined elder brother – becoming an artist, and indeed one of the most highly thought of children’s authors and illustrators around today, was not something he planned. He told us, “I enjoyed drawing aeroplanes and cars, or writing comics. I didn’t ever think of becoming an artist.” Nonetheless drawing seems to have been somewhat of an obsession for him, or a compulsion at least: “I drew one picture a day – I didn’t want to go to bed unless I had drawn something.” And most often it was from his own imagination, rather than from the real world, that he drew. He found his first job working as a commercial illustrator for ad- verts and magazines. It was when he came to London that he decided drawing comics could be more of a career than a pastime. “One day I was really bored and I got an idea for a story, so I did one, a small one with pictures. It looked like a children’s story. So I went to a book- shop and picked up children’s books which looked nice, and I copied the address of the publishers and sent these photocopied stories to about ten.” The Event asked Satoshi where he finds inspiration for his paint- ings and drawings, he said, with characteristic modesty, “I don’t know whether I have inspiration – it’s just desire to paint and to draw, that’s always there.” He continued, “Illustration is something I really

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he Event have a confession to make – we used to hate our parents reading us bedtime stories. We’re not saying they didn’t put a lot of effort into it, using all the techniques at their disposal, funny voices, spectacular sound effects, the lot. It was just they were, dare we say it, a bit boring. How many times did Biff, Chip and Kipper (did anyone else find that name strange and a tad disturbing?) have to steal something they shouldn’t before they realised stealing was bad? Those thinly disguised morals in ropey unimaginative plots if anything made me want to go out and mug an old lady simply because Biff, Chip and Kipper didn’t want me to. It certainly put us off reading for a long time. We know it sounds bitter and we’re sure many of you out there have fond memories of those books, put it down to our being snobbish little sods as children. Anyway, with that said you can imagine our collective heart sinking when we arrived at an Art Society event – a talk with the illustrator and writer Satoshi Kitamura, and the softly spoken Japanese man said those terrifying words ‘I’m going to read you a story.’ He turns down the lights and pulls out of a suitcase an actual miniature stage, like a puppet theatre complete with red silky curtains, only with pictures and drawings instead of figurines inside. He then begins the story, pulling the curtains back to reveal his first picture. The picture is beautiful, exquisitely painted, though simple – a house with a blue door and some kind of green monster inside looking out of the window.

We think to ourselves ‘what is this man doing wasting his time making kid’s books? We certainly wouldn’t if we could paint like that.’ But then as he begins to tell a story, about a monster who has eaten too much and can’t get out of his house, though it sounds like a ridiculous cliché, we begin to see things differently. All the pictures in the story are stunning, comic and imaginative. They are full of the most vivid colours, for the green monster has to eat his house to escape and then proceeds to eat everything he sees: trees, lampposts, houses, countries and eventually the whole world, and the solar system. We look around at the rest of the Art Society and they all, like us, are utterly transﬁxed by the story, but most of all by the wonderful pictures – so wonderful that you think the story doesn’t even need Satoshi’s words – it’s all about the pictures. As the story ﬁn- ishes and we burst into rapturous applause, (the monster, having eaten absolutely everything in the universe becoming a universe in himself), our heads are buzzing with questions ‘who is this man’ and ‘why on earth wasn’t he around when I was a kid?’, more impor- tantly ‘if we’re enjoying this and everyone else around us is enjoying this too – then why are pictures solely for the domain of children?’ The originality of Kitamura’s style – his bold, linear illustrations executed in pen, ink and watercolour mark him out as one of the most interesting and innovative children’s illustrators of the past thirty years, on a par with the likes of David McKee (‘King Rollo’ and ‘Elmer the Elephant’) and Eric Carle (‘The Very Hungry Caterpil- lar’) As the Times Educational Supplement has so eloquently put

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Event 11 The

Fashion

The Allure of More is More

he stand out stunner of Channel 4’s latest primetime export Lost has to be the aptly named Evangeline Lilly. The Canadian actress boasts a fresh and bare-faced beauty, and the fact that she has a rather ﬁzzy mane, well its giving hope to big haired girls everywhere. So no doubt she’ll be increasing her fan base by letting Lost fans see her buried treasures,

right? Wrong. Evangeline is in fact as pure and fragrant as her moniker implies. She has taken a highly controversial step and told producers that she will not perform partially clothed or partake in any sex scenes. She has simply stated that she will not compromise her beliefs, and shed her clothes for a shred more fame. Bravely opposing the opinions of almost every other actress in her field, Evangeline may actually be judged on the size of her talent and nothing else. It seems that designers have also succumbed to a wave of subtlety. This season’s shapes will slide over curves, and displays of skin will be kept to a minimum. Victoriana blouses will mean necklines are much more about the collarbone than the cleavage. 1940s styles have also hit the high street. Double breasted jackets, slick, slimming pen- cil skirts and thick tights in swirly styles of lace and net bring wartime glamour to the fashion forefront. But there’s nothing asexual about Autumn 05, when every shape will make the figure of eight. Skirts will skim, blouses will billow, and well cut coats and slender boots will add a final touch of glamour. And even a waif can fake a waist in a thick leather belt or reams of silky ribbon tied in a beautiful bow. Keep your look neat and chic, with sleek locks twisted into buns or swinging from a smartly sculpted ponytail. Finally, accessorise with continued subtlety and snap up a sequined clutch and slick on some scarlet lips.

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Fashion

Round Round Get Around I Get Around

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yclical shapes will be cited everywhere, from oversized, bulky beads, to rounded toe heels and flats. Pom poms are strewn on everything. Jumpers, belts, necklaces and bags all get the cheerleading treat- ment. Wear with care, and add those fluffy morsels to an understated outfit. And who thought puffs were just a tasty snack? This classic cut will be seen on the shoulders of flattering cropped jackets, and even in flouncy fitting skirts - dare to dress in a sexy puff ball skirt with tights and sparkly shoes. Glitzing and glinting is the only way to catch eyes right now. Se-

quins are adding light to dark autumn nights, be sure to sparkle in silver circles scattered generously on scarves, belts and shoes. The sequined scarf will be the perfect accessory whether dressing up or down, and on your collar or your curves. Bid bed-head-hair and late- for-lecture-locks goodbye, as the perfect hat has made a comeback. Rounded baker boy hats are hot in deep hues like indigo and chocolate. Piles of pearls are also a great way to decorate your neck. Avoid the ladies who lunch look, by adding other jewels such as chunky chains, charms, and crosses. Make the most of the brief heat and look hot to trot in polka dots. They are a highly ﬂattering way to wear this seasons shape.

R C

SATURDAY 12TH NOVEMBER tHE HOTTEST rNb & HIP-HOP

Event 13 The

Primetime

Channel 4 Afternoons $IBOOFM QN FWFSZ XFFLEBZ Last week saw the return of two perennial student favourites to Channel 4 – Countdown and Noel Edmonds. The channel is showing Countdown and Edmonds’ new program every weekday afternoon from 3.30pm-5pm – but the burning question is, are they any good? Countdown has started again after a three month absence, due to the unfortunate death of the popular Richard Whiteley. It was revealed only a few weeks ago that Des Lynam would be taking over, a decision which was met with much cynicism. However, Lynam has proved to be just as good at friendly banter as Whiteley was and, in just a few episodes, has settled into the role well. So, what about the show itself? Beyond the change of presenter, nothing else has changed – perhaps unsurprisingly. We still have letters and numbers rounds, Carol Vorderman, Dictionary Corner and the infamous timer noises. You can still settle down after a lecture and test your intellectual mettle against the contestants. Seeing it again is like seeing an old friend after a few months apart – they may seem a bit different at ﬁrst, but they’re still the same at heart. Or

Suds

:PVS EPTF PG TPBQ OFXT )PMMZPBLT Things took a different turn this week on Hollyoaks and seriousness suddenly reigned, like the long running Justin story line that is finally seeing some action due to his trial. Darlene is still determined to tell the world that Ali is innocent despite Liz’s best efforts at convincing the police that she is an unreliable witness. Becca has secretly visited Justin, fuelling him with hopes that maybe his love for her is not un- requited, which has created a bigger divide between Becca and Jake. Mandy is still finding it hard to cope with her new baby and cannot bring herself to bond with it. After giving birth only a few weeks ago, she is already back at work and is trying as hard as possible to forget all about the birth. After all this heavy acting, Zara has provided us with a bit of entertainment this week as she landed herself a date with Freddy but had quite a lot of trouble preparing his vegan meal. Once again the trial in Hollyoaks has taken centre stage this week but it will be well worth watching to find out the final fate of Justin Burton. #FDLZ 3VUU /FJHICPVST What could be better than a good old Neighbours wedding? However, one person was unable to join in the festivities of Sindi and Stu’s special day - Toadie who had managed to knock himself unconscious by putting on a pair of trousers (which, as we all know, is a very hazardous procedure). He did wake up in time to try and stop the ceremony;; but he was unable to convince Stu of Sindi’s dodgyness and they got married anyway. One person who was absent from the wedding was Izzy, whose car was found in ‘the bush’ with questionable blood splats on the seats Paul and Karl are both being questioned. Serena continued to pine over Conner and things really began to heat up among the plastic palm trees and mannequins in the bikini shop when she found out that he had had a one-night fling with a wedding guest. Additionally, Dylan made up for the fact that he had given Sky a list of all the girls he had slept with by constructing a list of all the girls he had ever loved with only her name on it. It truly was a heart-warming moment, regardless of the fact that he was dressed up as a Red Indian. 3FCFDDB )VOU

Event The

some other equally rubbish metaphor. Noel Edmonds’ new vehicle, the catchily titled Deal Or No Deal, is pretty weird. 22 contestants are stood in the studio, each with a box. Inside each box is one denomination, ranging from 1p through to £10, £500 and £75,000. The computer randomly selects one to be that day’s competitor, who then moves to the front. This competitor picks boxes to be opened to see what they have in theirs, so that they can whittle down the options and work out what’s left in their box, which they will then win. There is also a “banker” who phones into the studio to offer the competitor money for their box depending on the amounts that are still in unopened boxes. Still with me at the back? The concept is strange, to say the least. The show’s major ﬂaw is that it simply works on luck – the person chosen on that day may have the 1p box, or they may have the £75,000 box. This means that you’re simply watching the process of elimination, rather than a person’s general knowledge being tested, which makes it pretty boring. Edmonds does his best Chris Tarrant impressions to pad it out (such as taking advert

breaks before important things are revealed), but it’s ultimately a bit tedious. The now legendary House Party presenter makes it bearable, even if simply for the novelty value. It’s great to have this pair back on TV – they’re as much a part of our student lives as rushed essays, the LCR and lie-ins. It’s a perfect line-up for a lazy afternoon in and one that Channel 4 will hopefully keep for the remainder of the university year. $ISJT )ZEF

TV DVD

.S #FBO 7PMVNF b 3FMFBTFE Ah, Mr Bean. Who can hold their hand up and truthfully say that they didn’t like him when he was on TV back in the nineties? Rowan Atkinson’s simple-minded creation is a joy to watch and the gentle humour of the three episodes on this DVD will take any student back to their youth, when silent comedy was actually funny. Included on this DVD are three early episodes – The Trouble With Mr Bean (in which he goes to the dentist and visits the park), The Curse Of Mr Bean (where he goes swimming and to the cinema) and Mr Bean Goes To Town (where he buys a new TV and takes his girlfriend to a disco, dating it somewhat) – as well as a ﬁve-minute long episode of the Mr Bean animated series. Unfor- tunately, this is all, which does seem a little meagre for a full price DVD;; especially considering other TV DVDs, such as the Red Dwarf releases. However, the episodes that are here are hilarious. The scene in which Bean eats his lunch next to Angus Deayton’s businessman is brilliant, as he unpacks the ingredients for his meal from his person – sardines, lettuce and bread, for example, are all hidden in various pockets. The trip to the dentist (played by Richard Wilson) is a classic scene, as Bean anaesthetises the dentist, cleans his teeth and

coats them in glue. The drive to the dentist is fantastic too, as he gets dressed in his green Mini while driving. One thing that does strike the viewer, watching it with more world knowledge than ten years ago, is that Mr Bean is clearly mentally impaired. Some of the things he does, such as pouring water on a school kid’s lap so that he can read the boy’s comic book, are not things a fully capable adult would do, and, while it’s as funny now as when we were innocent children, it does feel a bit like laugh- ing at the disabled. Despite this, Bean is presented in a slightly sympathetic light and is a complete contrast to today’s comedy, in which the mentally disabled are mocked – such as Little Britain’s Anne. If you fancy a DVD that reminds you of growing up and want a change from Trap Door, Danger Mouse and Count Duckula (to name three classic shows from our childhood), then this is worth checking out. Bear in mind the limited content on offer, however - with 13 episodes of Mr Bean in total, and three per DVD release, there’ll be a few more full price releases if you want to complete the set. $ISJT )ZEF

Telly Classics .POUZ 1ZUIPO T 'MZJOH $JSDVT Almost every student will be familiar with the utter insanity that is ‘Monty Python’ - the mere mention of its name still automatically causes some people to sing about cross-dressing lumberjacks, de- velop an incurable silly walk or hold long talks about dead parrots. ‘Monty Python’ consisted of John Cleese, Eric Idle, Michael Pa- lin, Terry Jones, Graham Chapman and Terry Gilliam. The sketches that made up each episode were a mixture of live-action and surreal animation and were completely unlike anything that had been on TV before. ‘Monty Python’ also did not ensure that every episode had a beginning, middle and end as earlier comedies had done. In- stead the sketches often ran on into each other, or Chapman would enter dressed in military garb and stop the actors if they were being ‘too silly’.

Although some ‘Monty Python’ sketches are just not funny, many of them remain incredibly popular today due to their sheer randomness. One sketch featured a café full of Vikings singing about spam;; another had Cleese teaching a class entitled ‘Self-De- fence Against Fresh Fruit’. Part of the reason why the sketches are so funny is because you never know what will happen at the end. It is possible that a highwayman will arrive to steal lupins from the rich to give to the poor or that a 16-ton weight will kill the cast. ‘Monty Python’s Flying Circus’ is something that every student should see. Its cult following is well deserved due to its uniqueness and how quotablity. These reasons are possibly why ‘NOBODY ex- pects the Spanish Inquisition’. ,JN %ZFS

Art

Theatre

The History Boys 5IFBUSF 3PZBM 5VFTEBZ UI 4BUVSEBZ UI 0DUPCFS It is the undercurrent of school politics that is the strength of this production. The students and teachers wade through the complex- ity of written rules, spoken rules and unspoken rules that often muddle rather than moderate school life. Desmond Barrit’s presentation of the eccentric but inspirational Hector mediates the line between humour and moving sentiment well. The emotionally weighted scene involving the dissection of the Hardy poem Drummer Hodge was beautifully done, stirring up empathy for Hector’s stance on education as well as re-enforcing the ambivalence surrounding his less than kosher behaviour. To- bias Menzies, though not playing a role that best showcases his undeniable talent, was a credibly awkward and amusing Irwin. Men- zies resisted the urge to overplay the comedy of Irwin’s spiel for a historical documentary series, instead letting it emerge organically from the ridiculously contrarian attitude of the character to great success. Bruce Alexander’s characterisation of the uptight, results obsessed Headmaster is consistent but does not have the edge of Barrit or Menzies. Diane Fletcher should be commended for her performance as teacher Mrs Linnot, whose inclusion as the only female character of any signiﬁcance appears token on Bennett’s part. It is the teachers’ attempts to negotiate staff room relations which make the pupil-teacher dynamics so engaging. The boys themselves are an entity rather than individuals who evoke any particular response with one or two exceptions. This, however, is a comment on the

nature of the script rather than on the acting which is difﬁcult to fault. Pupil Lockwood, played by former UEA Drama student Matt Smith, kept the side up despite this limited room for character de- velopment. The staging is effective but the use of ﬁlm to cover the scene changes proved distracting at times. Overall, an animated presentation of a 1980s Grammar School. .FMBOJF 4QFODFS

Bestsellers 1 5IF 1FOVMUJNBUF 1FSJM

Lemony Snicket £7.99 Bloomsbury

2 +BNJF T *UBMZ Jamie Oliver £6.99 Corgi Adult

3 6OUPME 4UPSJFT Alan Bennett £6.99 Abacus

4 5IF 4IBEPX PG UIF 8JOE Carlos Ruiz Zafon £6.99 Penguin

5 (VJOFTT 8PSME 3FDPSET £6.99 Corgi Adult

6 5IF 8PSME "DDPSEJOH UP $MBSLTPO Jeremy Clarkson £7.99 Vintage

7 .BSHSBWF PG UIF .BSTIFT John Peel, Sheila Ravenscraft £6.99 Time Warner Paper- backs

8 5IVE Terry Pratchett Ebury Press

9 The Da Vinci Code Dan Brown£7.99 Vintage

10 4DPUMBOE 4USFFU Alexander Mcall-Smith £8.99 BBC Books =

Books 5IF 0EF -FTT 5SBWFMMFE 4UFQIFO 'SZ Stephen Fry has ﬁnally come out of the closet. The poetry-writing closet, that is. His new book on how to master the basics of writing poetry will come as a surprise to many who may know him chieﬂy as a comic writer and performer. This is a serious work which makes many thought-provoking points, although Fry’s unmistakeable wit does peek through fairly frequently, making the book a delightful and entertaining, yet educational, read. Fry’s own mastery of language is evident throughout: he makes an extremely convincing argument for the pleasure that can be derived from writing poetry and the validity of using form and metre. One of the things

he emphasises most is that form and metre need not be out-dated modes of verse and can be used in innovative ways. His explanations of prosody are simple enough to grasp without being patronising, and the exercises are fun and will not only help you with your writing of poetry, but your reading of it too. Fry’s aim is not to teach us how to read poetry, but inevitably one becomes more attuned to the nuances of language and understands more about the art of versiﬁcation, so reading poetry then becomes all the more rewarding. $IBSMFOF 1SJDF

4IBMJNBS 5IF $MPXO 4BMNBO 3VTIEJF Salman Rushdie has achieved more than most in his life. So could almost be excused for forgetting that the Anglo-Indian is one of the greatest contemporary novelists of our time. Huge excitement surrounded Rushdie’s visit to UEA to celebrate the publication of his new novel, Shali- mar the Clown. The writer famed for his magical realist works, such as ‘Midnight’s Children’ and ‘Satanic Verses’, spoke wryly to a packed audience about the recent demands of his latest world publicity tour. Shalimar the Clown is set largely in Kashmir, described in the preface as “a ruined paradise, not so much lost as smashed.” This is where Rushdie experienced much of his upbringing. The novel explores the region’s vast culture and beauty, whilst underlin-

ing the tragedy of volatile sectarianism and a strong tradition for terrorism, which pervades the area. Such sensitive topics are touched upon with notable paro- dy of Indian-Pakistani relations in the novel. With ripe satire also heaped upon Western and Eastern govern- ments, Rushdie was quick to point out that seriousness and comedy were intertwined in his characteris- tically unpredictable style of writing. Yet at the same time he emphasised the novel’s heartbreaking impli- cations, describing Kashmir as “a tragedy in world terms.” Critics disagree whether Shalimir the Clown is a return to form for Rushdie – but the former Book- er Prize winner remains as controversial as ever. #FO #BSVDI

Event 15 The

Film

Main Feature

The Brothers Grimm %JS 5FSSZ (JMMJBN 3FMFBTF %BUF

Kicking off with a ‘once upon a time’ and then immediately adding a date to the title, The Brothers Grimm makes a spirited attempt to mix and oppose the time-honoured codes of magical fairytales with the more down-to-earth concerns of realist period storytelling. Its two heroes, Will and Jake (the Grimm brothers), recreate clichéd horror scenes for a living, setting up fake supernatural oc-

currences which they then ‘exorcise’ for the village folk at a set rate. Human-made monsters soon give way to the real thing of course, but the ﬁlm retains a measure of irony in Will and Jake, who keep up a conspicuously modern commentary on proceedings (Will re- fers to himself and his brother as ‘Team Grimm’;; Jake later notes how the ‘years have not been kind’ to a 500-year-old child-stealing mirror queen). Aside from the fact that post-modern fairytales are pretty much old hat these days (Shrek and its sequel conducted a com- prehensive send-up of all things Grimm a few years ago, and with far more wit and vigour than that on display here), The Brothers Grimm falls down on a hackneyed, rambling narrative that only sporadically engages, and excites even less frequently. After estab- lishing the brothers as experienced pseudo-ghostbusters, the ﬁlm has them delve into a mysterious forest where they aim to trace the cause of a spate of child disappearances in a local village. As they battle their way through a series of familiarly creepy creatures – a giant wolf, a crazed gingerbread man, a wicked queen – the duo gradually get to the root of the problem, all the time bickering with each other and vying for the affections of a beautiful forest hunter, Angelika. This sort of thing should be fertile ground for Terry Gilliam, who has a splendid track record for darkly comic fantasy, and there are moments when The Brothers Grimm at least threatens to bloom into something recognisably Gilliamesque. Some sequences of

muddy village life have an absurd, class-aware Monty Python and the Holy Grail ring to them. Jonathan Pryce, so wonderfully edgy in Gilliam’s Brazil, does a good job as the gleefully snooty Napo- leonic lord. But the most intriguing elements are generally edged out to the margins, leaving centre-stage to two good humoured but uninspired performances by Matt Damon and Heath Ledger, a bunch of unfortunately CGI-ed monsters, and a succession of predictable – though admittedly gorgeous – large-scale sets. Gilliam has been outspoken about the limitations imposed on him from above, which included some pushy intervention from producers Bob and Harvey Weinstein (who, amongst other things, vetoed Samantha Morton for the female lead in favour of Lena Headey – just about the pick for worst performance), and a script from genre hand Ehren Kruger, which was later extensively rewrit- ten by Gilliam and Tony Grisoni. The Bothers Grimm was always going to be a mainstream movie (the budget was $75 million), but few could have expected a ﬁlm so muddied with compromise from the director who produced such an audacious Hollywood hit as Twelve Monkeys. Perhaps Gilliam will have learnt a thing or two in preparation for his next mainstream outing, but for now heads are turning to the personal project Tidelands, completed in a break in The Brothers Grimm’s arduous production. It may turn out to be the best thing to emerge from the whole affair. 4FC .BOMFZ

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A resolutely unglamorous melodrama, despite the presence of Cam- eron Diaz as a hardly-dressed playgirl, In Her Shoes sees Curtis Hanson step out of the indie groove he dug for himself with L.A. Confidential and Wonder Boys in favour of another mainstream ex- cursion. Next to the sublime theatrics of 2002’s 8 Mile, proceedings here are slow and quite modest, although there is much to admire. Toni Collette’s generous performance as the dowdy half of a devoted – though warring – sibling duo is the film’s central support, allowing Diaz’s Maggie to perform an entertaining transition from slobbish dependency, through self-discovery, and on to triumphant self-suf- ficiency. The central love/hate relationship is a well-worn motif for sure, but Hanson keeps a light touch to the end: ‘We’re like Sonny and Cher’ says Maggie in a tender reconciliation with her sister, when she is reminded that that particular partnership split up. ‘Yes’, replies Maggie, ‘but they remained quite close’. 4FC .BOMFZ

Saw II is the ‘Crystal Maze’ set in Hell: in the first scene a man locked in a room has to gouge out his own eye before the time runs out, or else he dies. After the gore-fest of Saw this wasn’t surprising. Un- fortunately this film falls very short of its predecessor. As before the women are feisty, the men brooding and macho and there is plenty of flashy camera work – but there is entirely no suspense, just people being tortured. Rather than supporting the plot, the violence is the plot. There is some attempt to make a comment on life and death and all things deep but this film turns out to have about as depth as a puddle - the audience is not so much moved or scared by the grue- some violence as disturbed. If there is any horror in this film it comes from the questions the audience ask themselves: ‘what is wrong with me? Why the hell am I watching this!’ .JLF $VNFT

4PQIJF 4DIPMM %JS .BSL 3PUIFNVOE 3FMFBTFE Once again this year, after the excellent Downfall, we have been given the chance to view the true history of Nazi Germany. In this case, we witness the show trial of student resistance leader Sophie Scholl (Julia Jentsch), based on the transcripts of her interrogation by Nazi officer Robert Mohr (Gerald Held). In much of the film, we witness the back-and-forth between these two characters, as they argue about the Nazi government, its policies and its achievements. Scholl is played as an admirable and fearless leader, and we are drawn in to this heated debate. Mohr gives a good account, but obviously we are more attracted to Scholl and her beliefs. The rest of the cast is excellent, with the exception of magistrate Dr Roland Freisler, who goes too far as a Nazi stereotype. But the powerful final act leaves a lasting impression, and one cannot help but be inspired by this true heroine of history. "OEZ +VETPO

Event The

&MJ[BCFUIUPXO %JS $BNFSPO $SPXF 3FMFBTFE Elizabethtown follows the life of Drew Baylor (Orlando Bloom) as he tries to come to terms with the ‘ﬁasco’ of losing $972 million for his employers. His father’s death brings him back from the brink of suicide and takes him on a journey of self-discovery, purpose and romance. While Bloom is funny, he is not outstanding. Kirsten Dunst steals the show in her role as the southern air-hostess Claire, bringing warmth and human emotion to the movie, traits that Bloom lacks, even though it is his best role to date. Susan Sarandon is as good as ever, playing Drew’s recently widowed mother who takes advantage of her new independence, and Loudon Wainwright III turns in an entertaining performance as Uncle Dale. Director Crowe strongly grips the theme of death and mourning, but touches it with almost absurd comedy, with moments that will make you both cry and laugh, creat- ing a charming human drama. The ﬁlm is not for everyone, and if you hate excessively sentimental movies, Elizabethtown is not for you. /BUBTIB ,VOEBJLFS

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Film

DVD Releases *SPO %JS ,JN ,J EVL 3FMFBTFE CZ 0QUJNVN )PNF &OUFSUBJONFOU Kim Ki-duk’s philosophical ghost-romance takes its title from a type of golf club, although it contains nothing so routine as a golfing contest. 3-Iron is sumptuously dreamlike and oblique, with a strongly allegorical undertow. The mysterious protagonist Tae-suk is a lone- some drifter, who breaks into houses while the owners are away, carries out minor repairs, and leaves before he is discovered. When Tae-suk comes across a beautiful girl during a break-in, and ‘rescues’ her from an abusive husband, the film draws out a beautiful wordless romance between the two, as they house-hop on the run. Later sequences drift into a more stylised magic-realist mode (Tae-suk learn- ing to become ‘invisible’ in his prison cell is one absurd and brilliant spectacle), and the visuals and performances here are hardly less than exquisite – but its hard to shake the feeling that following the austere meditation of Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter…and Spring, Kim Ki-duk is indulging for the first time in whimsy. 4FC .BOMFZ

8BS PG UIF 8PSMET 4QFDJBM &EJUJPO %JS 4UFQIFO 4QJFMCFSH 3FMFBTFE CZ 1BSBNPVOU )PNF &OUFSUBJONFOU It may lose some impact on the small screen, but Spielberg’s inter- pretation of the H.G. Wells sci-fi classic is still compulsive viewing. From the man who invented the blockbuster summer movie we’re on familiar territory: broken family experiences the incredible, and the drama subsequently plays out against a backdrop of jaw-dropping spectacle. But be warned: this is a dark, nasty and shockingly realistic vision. Forget the wise-cracks of Independence Day, or the beautiful styling of Signs. This alien invasion carries chilling references to 9/11 which means there is little fun to be had, and certainly no heroes. The first hour is terrifying;; a relentless attack on the senses that is one of the most tightly controlled segments the director has produced. But it does go astray in the second act, and the terrific tension built up is lost as the family drama takes over. But Tom Cruise is wonderful, and if nothing else the sound of the Tripods will haunt you for weeks… 3JDIBSE #PBLFT

Cinefile N o 61 .

Naked Lunch

5IF "MNPEPWBS $PMMFDUJPO 7PM 4VNNFS 4UPSN %JS .BSDP ,SFV[QBJOUOFS %JS 1FESP "MNPEPWBS 3FMFBTFE 3FMFBTFE CZ 1BSBTPM 1FDDBEJMMP A film with a narrative that displays the complexities of growing up CZ 0QUJNVN )PNF &OUFSUBJONFOU For anyone introduced to Almodovar’s work through recent outings Talk to Her and Bad Education, the punky, Pop Art-inflected contents of this box-set may come as something of a shock. Three out of the Spanish director’s first four features are here, including Pepi, Luci, Bom, an unblinking study of late 70s Madrid’s post-Franco youth culture, and What Have I Done to Deserve This?, a crazed dysfunctional family comedy. All of the films share a predication for intrusive musical scores, strangely warped noir conventions, and outrageous John Waters-style sexual humour, but only Women on the Verge of a Nerv- ous Breakdown (the latest work here, from 1988) boasts the brilliantly stylised colour palette to be found in the more recent works. 4FC .BOMFZ

from a gay perspective might not usually appeal to a wide audience. However, this is a film that’s easy to like. Summerstorm is a German film that follows two friends Tobi and Achim in competition. They both have girlfriends but Tobi seems more attracted to Achim. His feelings are further compounded when the opposite team (who are all gay) arrives, one of whom becomes friendly with Tobi. As the film progresses, one begins to feel his pain and anguish about his pre- dicament. This is partly due to Robert Stadlober (Tobi) who gives a performance of real conviction and realism. This is a simple story but a fascinating one;; it displays some of the dilemmas teens have to put up with because of their sexuality and also the ignorance of people towards it. As such it’s worth watching despite being about rowing! 4FBO 0 4IFB

Special Feature Part Time Work %JS .BUUIFX 0BLMFZ 5PN /FMTPO

Documentary making is currently bigger business than it has ever been, but it still remains one of the best ways into film for low- budget first-time directors. Part Time Work is an hour long mock- documentary put together by local filmmakers Matthew Oakley and Tom Nelson – credited only as Robert E. Park on the DVD – for a very small amount of money, over the period of a few months. It tracks the progress (or lack thereof) of a trio of self-styled progres- sive artists as they go about building their careers: Gavin Britt is an unpublished writer who cannot break free of the influence of ‘the grand master of excitement’ Clive Cussler;; Chris Huxford makes socially-conscious music with a guitar, a reverser, and a selection of paint pots (sample lyrics: ‘drugs and heroine;; forced on our children;; police can’t save them;; too busy harassing;; society’s artists;; the ones that can save us’);; and Dean Packet is a amateur filmmaker who secures funding for his paranoid thrillers from a TV betting channel called Virtua Horse. The three main characters are naturally and pitiably funny because, like Alan Partridge and various residents of That Peter Kay Thing, their perceptions of themselves are so ludicrously at odds with their actual positions in life. Gavin, whose writing we never see, puts his not being published down to a lack of ‘daring’ at the publishing house;; we later find out the novel he submitted was a Clive Cussler copy with the title changed. Dean, an aspiring rock prophet, has trouble hitting his own songs’ notes. The naturalistic

performances here – drawing on almost entirely improvised dialogue – make for agonising and frequently hilarious viewing, but it’s hard not to feel a little sympathy for such devoted artist-outsiders, however deluded they are. When the film does allow its characters a bit of genuine pathos, as in the wordless montage of Chris playing football with his son, it comes off wonderfully. As a spoof documentary, Part Time Work’s form is appropriately straightforward, with the mixture of talking heads and static ‘performance’ shots occasionally broken up by inserts of Dean’s films (his magnum opus, Moving Target, is an All The President’s Men-ish conspiracy thriller played out in the empty car parks of Norwich). The editing sometimes seems awkward, but it hardly distracts from the inspired dialogue, delivered as top-notch David Brent-style ramblings: ‘though he hasn’t actually read anything I’ve written’, says Gavin, ‘my friend says that the stuff I talk about doing sounds very similar to the stuff he reads on the back of the Clive Cussler books he buys in charity shops - that’s praise.’ It’s not hard to imagine material this good stretching to fill a series – in any case it bodes well for the sequel, already in the can and planned for a DVD release in December. 1BSU 5JNF 8PSL JT BWBJMBCMF PO %7% GSPN UIF NVTJD TIPQ 1SFTT UP 1MBZ 4U #FOFEJDUT 4USFFU /PSXJDI

A/BLFE -VODI IBT B CJU PG B T &VSPQFBO QPSO SJOH UP JUy Nothing so straightforward. David Cronenberg’s 1991 adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ ‘unﬁlmable’ cult novel of the same name is a hallucinatory, grisly affair, made with little regard for the comforting cues of conventional storytelling. The surface plot has New York bug exterminator Bill Lee (Peter Weller) tumble into a noir-ish world of government agents and drug hauls – but the line between hazardous reality and paranoid fantasy is a faint and permeable one.

4P XIBU QBTTFT GPS FYDJUFNFOU JO #JMM T XPSME Bill kicks back after a hard day’s exterminating with a quick shot of bug-powder, to which he quickly becomes addicted, and experiences nightmarish hallucinations involving giant talking beetles. On the in- structions of his ‘spyforce controller’ bug, Bill takes to the streets of Interzone (a foreign city based on Tangier), where he confronts an underground network of drug-deals, prostitution, assassination, and mutant reptile farming.

)PX TUSBOHF 8IBU T TUPQQJOH UIF XIPMF UIJOH GSPN DPMMBQTJOH JOUP B NFTT PG JODPNQSFIFOTJCMF XFJSEOFTT At a casual glance, not a lot. But Cronenberg’s dream-like vision is actually quite precise, and even distant, despite its unnerving gallery of grotesques. The ‘body horror’ of previous films The Fly, Scanners, and Shivers is largely absent, replaced with a searching investigation into creativity and the writing process, as embodied by Bill – part Burroughs alter-ego, part Cronenbergian artist-hero in the tradition of Dead Ringers’ Mantle brothers, eXistenZ’s Allegra Geller, and Spi- der’s Dennis Cleg. Set in the specific milieu of 1950’s US literary beat culture, the film looks at the artist as a self-destructive, solipsistic figure;; Bill’s solution to the writers block he is experiencing in the ‘real’ world is to ‘exterminate all rational thought’ and retreat into his unconscious.

)PX EP UIF BDUPST EFBM XJUI UIFJS ESFBN GBOUBTZ IJTUPSJDBM mHVSF SPMFT Through a combination of blankness and superbly wry dialogue-de- livery. Ian Holm (as a rival ‘agent’) is especially good at this sort of thing, but Peter Weller and Judy Davies deliver chillingly droll performances, and Roy Scheider even pops up as a smarmy doctor with a line in latex face disguises.

4FC .BOMFZ

Event 17 The

Music

Alanis Morissette Golden Sounds The Collection #MVS 1BSLMJGF

Parklife is arguably the album that kickstarted and deﬁned the entire Britpop movement, as well as being the best album of Blur’s career. Spawning several classic singles (Girls and Boys, Parklife and End of a Century are all on here), Parklife can be described as a loose concept album about life in mid-nineties London, portraying a city of cross- dressing civil servants, little boy racers, Club 18-30 holidays and binge drinking. Despite the laddish image given by the singles, there is a lot of interesting music on here, such as the brass band-led stomp of The Debt Collector and the blisteringly fast punk Bank Holiday. The best songs, however, are the tear-jerking ballads about the end of a relationship, such as Badhead (possibly the best thing Damon Albarn has ever written) and To the End. The most emotional song on here is easily This Is A Low (also on the band’s best of collection), which is somehow incredibly depressing yet uplifting at the same time. Every track on here has something of merit, from brilliant lyrics to fantastic guitar solos courtesy of Graham Coxon, and shows Blur doing what they do best – perfectly crafted pop songs. It’s better than anything the Gallaghers ever did, too…

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The first single from the Strokes’ forthcoming new album comes with the dubious promise of an ‘exciting new change of direction.’ Bands tend to claim this either when, the only difference to their last 15 albums is a rather ‘interesting’ drum solo on track 9, or when justifying an experimental Sting album that only uses bassoons. Sadly, Juicebox is closer to the former. According to Strokes singer Julian Casablancas, the new album is “about how someone from outer space would objectively view things happening on earth,” but while Juicebox has some genuinely unexpected moments (for example the slightly cringe-worthy lines ‘standing in the light field, waiting for some action.’ In a Dalek Voice), the objective alien would have to concede the song soon reverts to old Strokes territory. This isn’t particularly a bad thing;; the song starts with a thumping, danceable bass riff and a blistering guitar solo, and Casablancas shows how raw and exciting his voice can be during the Offspring-esque chorus. Although it gets an A for effort, Juicebox doesn’t quite fulfil its early promises.

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It’s hard to find a piece written about Alanis Morissette that doesn’t mention one of the following. Firstly, that her third album, Jagged Little Pill, is one of the most successful albums of all time, selling an incredible 30 million copies. Secondly, the fact that her biggest hit, Ironic, is possibly the most inaccurately named song of all time, completely failing to include a single ironic event. Neither of these facts managed to dent her enthusiasm for making music though, and this retrospective charts her career from her breakthrough success to the present day. Alanis has had great success writing superior, nicely varied, motiva- tional pop songs, and this is indeed what The Collection contains. She “rocks out” on Sister Blister, asks penetrating questions on the swelling strings of That I Would Be Good, and gives confident, sis- terly guidance backed by jangling guitars on You Learn. Massive hits like Thank U, Crazy, Ironic and Hand In My Pocket can either be seen as irritating or pop genius, but either way completely embody her unique outlook on life. Four songs from film soundtracks add variety and hint at the singer’s serious side. A cover of Ella Fitzgerald’s jazz classic Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall In Love) demonstrates the strength and versatility of her voice, while original songs from the City Of Angels and Dogma soundtracks are darker and more dramatic. The real shock though is Mercy, a bizarre semi-classical duet between Alanis (singing in Hungarian) and Salif Keita (singing in Mali), complete with massed strings and a Swahili-chanting choir. If you don’t think too hard about them and suppress your cynical urges, her songs can be genuinely uplifting. However, while listening to the album in full, the remorselessly unsubtle, shallow lyrics,

and the endless lists of things that Alanis Morissette likes/ dislikes/ wants to tell her ex-boyfriend begin to grate, making it an album best listened to in small doses. A visit to Alanis’ website reveals the motivation behind the soul searching theme – a page full of links to Morissette-endorsed self-help websites. If you regard such sites as idealistic nonsense, then this is not the album for you. If, on the other hand, you think “gettingtheloveyouwant.com” or “innerbonding.com” could really change your life, or you just enjoy a bit of feisty, honest pop rock, then Alanis Morissette may well be your new hero.

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‘I Caught Fire’, taken from the band’s third album, is sadly another predictably shallow and soulless single from this tiresome pop rock outﬁt. Despite being quite a talented four piece, the Used have never been anything other than ordinary. Their self-proclaimed incredible progression as a band is nowhere to be found as Bert McCracken’s vocals continue to whine over the scratchy, mindless, and often downright painful guitar melodies. This single isn’t necessarily awful, it’s just unimaginative, and has been done many times before by much better bands. Go listen to LIT or Funeral for a Friend, there’s nothing of interest for you here.

The 38 minutes of joy that was imposed upon us earlier in the year with Mesmerize left us itching for more;; now, SOAD return to prolong a trend that exploded like a nuclear bomb earlier in the year. Hypnotize is again fuelled by raging lyrics that attack American propaganda head on, sup- ported by huge riffs and some downright dance ﬂoor mad bongos. The fact that SOAD continue to subvert with so much success leaves us questioning why other bands aren‘t this daring? The type of record that actually makes you sit up and listen doesn‘t come by too often;; SOAD are a genuine rarity, DO NOT take them for granted.

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“Enya has sold more than 65 million albums world- wide” proudly proclaims the inside sleeve of this single. Questions begin to spring to the inquisitive mind of this journalist. Why is Enya telling us this? Why should we care? And perhaps most impor- tantly, who bought all those albums? Undeniably, 65 million copies spells success for any artist, so what now from Enya? Will this new single see her career take a different direction? The answer sadly is no. Enya’s music is by no means bad, just terribly, terribly dull. What is bad, on the other hand is her mainstream commodiﬁcation of classical music, which is, to be frank, quite sicken- ing.

The third single from their ambitious, yet sadly patchy album “In Your Honor”, “Resolve” encap- sulates the pop-rock formula that the Foos are famous for. This is a ballad that, although slightly lyrically repetitive, still has hooks in all the right places and will have you humming with glee. That is, until the inevitable radio saturation ruins the song and every time you subsequently hear it you consider throwing your wireless out of the window. Unfortunately this seems to be the fate destined for every Foo Fighters single, so until then sit back and enjoy this ﬁne example of masters at work. Goodness that chorus is good…

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"UIMFUF 5XFOUZ 'PVS )PVST Can Athlete contend with those around them? A triumphant Coldplay have monopolised the epic rock sound, while anticipation mounts for new material from Keane after their majestic debut and Snow Patrols overdue mainstream breakthrough. 2005 has, however, been a very successful year for the Depford quartet;; festival slots at V and Glastonbury as well as their chart topping album shows that they are major players in the Britrock leagues. The fourth single from their album ‘Tourist’ begins poorly. Initially confronted by a saccharine keyboard loop and docile lyrics, fears of ineptitude are lifted along with the hearts of those listening as the strings rise and the bass pounds to produce a melancholic yet endearing celebration of hope. The Coldplay anthemic formula is evident (reminiscent of ‘Everything’s Not Lost’ but with less warmth), but as the track builds to a pulsat- ing emotional crescendo Athlete effervesce with quality.

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Music

Live: KT Tunstall

-$3

After Ed Harcourt’s amazing opening set, enthralling as ever, KT Tunstall had a hard act to follow. But she came out with style and impressed us all. Not known for being particularly exciting or energetic, she put on an amazing show, and the band truly seemed to be relishing the atmosphere. The crowd were hooked on every line, riff, and melody. The set consisted of her entire album, a b-side, and a couple of amazing new tracks, showing genuine progression from ‘Eye to the telescope’. The antics of the Sprowston percussionist and keyboardist were great to watch, and the appearance of Ed Harcourt

on keys for one song was a very welcome suprise. I can’t remember the last time I saw a band enjoy themselves this much, and it really helped the atmosphere. It was an amazing gig, with an extended ‘Suddenly I see’ ﬁnishing off the main set, and a beautiful rendition of ‘Through the Dark’ closing the night. This was a stunning gig, the new songs proving to us all that KT Tunstall will be around for a long time to come

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Current holders of the NME single of the week, The Automatic arrive onstage to a warm reception to an already packed Waterfront. This is the second time they have played Norwich in two weeks, and their brilliant blend of angular, Bloc Party – style rock and lush Killers – like electro-pop (plus their hugely entertaining and frankly mental screaming, crowd surﬁng keyboard player) ensure that they leave with even more new fans. After a long wait Hard-Fi bound onstage and treat us to a barrage of fantastic songs including their singles “Hard to Beat”, “Cash Ma- chine”, “Tied Up Too Tight” and, best of all, “Living for the Week-

end”. They also treat us to a ten-minute prog-rock cover of The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army” complete with psychedelic guitar wig- outs. Singer and Captain Scarlet look-alike Richard Archer is a ﬁery presence throughout, constantly inciting the crowd to greater levels of adoration. The audience respond in kind and by the end of the night the ceiling is literally dripping with sweat! On this sort of form Hard-Fi will surely not be playing venues as small as the Waterfront for much longer, so this could turn out to be one of those “I was there” moments.

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Carl Craig, one of the last stalwarts of techno mans the decks for the 25th Fabric mix compilation. Rath- er less stentorian than fellow Detroit pioneer Jeff Mills, his selections provide warmth and a modera- tion that one rarely associates with techno. A lot of the music here seems to be rather subtle and polite with Megablast’s “Jupita” slowly seeping into the cranium through its finely cadenced repeti- tion, while Carl Craig’s own “Angel” treads a fine line between peaceful transcendence and pilled-up mania. Soul and tribal influences abound, such as on the disco-house of Blaze’s “Most Precious Love.” However some of it does tend to stray into thumping, if tasteful, anonymity. Carl Craig’s oc- casional tired vocal interjections of the “clap your hands” variety hardly inspire, either. But luckily,

these are few and far between, and Craig’s mixing eschews technical showboating, opting instead for seamless transitions, rather than jarring attempts at ostentatious juxtaposition. Played low, this album can provide an inoffensive yet energetic backdrop, and pushing the volume will sufﬁce as a prelude for a big night out. But though none of it really grates, this collection seems rather more functional than inspired. "MFY $BMEXFMM

5IF 'JFSZ 'VSOBDFT 3FIFBSTJOH .Z $IPJS This the third full-length from New York alt-rock outfit The Fiery Furnaces and is a very strange concept album indeed. The band is comprised of sib- lings Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger, who have been lurking in the shadows of alternative music since their first CD two years ago. This album aims to change that - possibly through its sheer strange- ness. It stars the pair’s grandmother, Olga Saran- tos, on vocals as she narrates the story of her life through song. The subject matter and time period varies considerably – for example, Seven Part-Sil- ver Curses is set in the late 50s and features Olga finding ingredients for a potion to get rid of her husband’s lover;; then Though Let’s Be Fair is about Olga’s lovers in her 1940s upbringing. The songs

are full of musical variety to sustain the listener’s interest – such as plodding organs, synthesizer solos and gentle acoustic strums. Despite this, it is still very difﬁcult to listen to. The anecdotal nature of the lyrics, as the family all discuss events, may alienate some people and is has to be listened to as a whole – taken out of the context, the songs don’t seem to work as well, possibly due to the audio book feel of the album. Very different to any other current bands (with the possible exception of Arcade Fire), it does take a while to appreciate The Fiery Furnaces but those with enough patience will be rewarded on a multitude of levels.

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