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AN ALMOST INDEPENDENT MONTHLY MAGAZINE /SEPTEMBER 2009

Jamie Roberts RUGBY’S LION KING TALKS BRAINS, BIG HITS AND HOW TO EAT SPRINGBOK TESTICLE

Exclusively with the Belfast Telegraph on the first Tuesday of every month

The toughest race in Europe SLEEP IS FOR WIMPS ON RED BULL X-ALPS

Banzai BMX SLICK CITY TRICKS ON TOKYO STREETS

Seb Vettel shadowed 72 HOURS WITH F1’S WONDERBOY


BULLHORN

GOLDEN BOYS Two 22-year-olds who could hardly be more different: one, a hulking slab of rugby union muscle; the other a baby-faced driving prodigy who might just win this year’s Formula One World Championship. Step forward Jamie Roberts, our cover star, and Sebastian Vettel. Each has enjoyed a meteoric rise to success: Roberts with his Cardiff Blues club, then his national team, Wales, before a starring role on this year’s British and Irish Lions tour of South Africa. Vettel, meanwhile, has powered through from junior racing categories to emerge as a leading contender for victory at every Grand Prix (although things don’t always go to plan, as you can read in our exclusive reportage on page 68). So much, so young? Or too much, too soon? Roberts admits the experience of achieving at such a young age the career-high that a Lions tour represents, was a little humbling: “It brings a huge responsibility, but you take it in your stride,” he says. Vettel, too, has the priceless ability to retain grace and good humour, despite intense media scrutiny: “He puts on his grin and gets on with it,” says one of those close to him. Perhaps, then, we should view these two prodigies through the filter of another popular sporting maxim: “If you’re good enough, you’re old enough” – and ‘good enough’ these two most certainly are. Away from the sound and fury of race tracks and playing fields, we turn our attention this month to the more delicate tones of musical inspiration. Tom Oberheim, our featured Pioneer, is one of the fathers of the synthesiser, and the products of his electronic wizardry are almost certainly laced throughout your MP3 library. And if that gives you pause for thought as to the content of your digitial sound vault, consider sparing a few megabytes for the work of Twin Atlantic (page 40). Yet more talented youth destined for the very top.

NNN%I<;9LCC<K@E%:FD

AN ALMOST INDEPENDENT MONTHLY MAGAZINE /AUGUST /SEPTEMBER 2009 2009

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Your editorial team

03 3


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Natural flavours from plant extracts and natural caffeine from coffee beans.


CONTENTS

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF RED BULL Inside your fast-paced Bulletin in September…

Bullevard

10 GALLERY Amazing feats to feast your eyes on 14 NOW AND NEXT What’s hot and who’s cool – news from the worlds of culture and sport 17 ME AND MY BODY Mountain bike mentalist Andreu Lacondeguy talks tattoos and tumbles

62

19 LUCKY NUMBERS As LFW ’09 approaches, we bring you the real figures behind the fashion 20 KIT EVOLUTION Ever heard of a Theremin or a TenoriOn? No? Well you may be shocked to learn where electronic music has come from and where it’s heading 23 WHERE’S YOUR HEAD AT? Thought you knew everything about the poutiest half of media machine Brangelina? Think again… 24 WINNING FORMULA When is an F1 car not an F1 car? When a pool of water transforms it into a glorified boogie board. Formerrace-ace David Coulthard introduces us to the science of aquaplaning

46

Heroes

28 DYNAMO Move over Paul Daniels: there’s a new guy on the scene, and he’s more hoodie than top hat. Meet the magic man who’s swapped a Bradford estate for the Hollywood hills 30 TOM OBERHEIM This 73-year-old held the keys to a new sound and gave them to a generation of stars including Madonna and Stevie Wonder 34 HERO’S HERO Freestyle football World Champ Arnaud ‘Séan’ Garnier on why he’s loved controversial player Maradona since that match in 1986 36 STEVE FISHER There’s nothing wet about this kayaker, who treats battling through wild waters like taking a turn on a lake. Watch out for that waterfall… 06

40 34


CONTENTS

Action

28

40 TWIN ATLANTIC We brave the Glaswegian weather to discover what’s behind the beards and Ray-Bans of these Scottish rockers 46 JAMIE ROBERTS The Welsh rugby star faces the daunting prospect of a Red Bulletin interview, but says nothing can scare him more than the crunch of a warm testicle 52 TOKYO BMX We grab a backie with two peddling pros as they give a two-wheeled tour through the neon buzz of Japan’s coolest city 62 X-ALPS It’s the epitome of no-frills flying; racing from Austria to Monaco using only a paraglider and a pair of running shoes. But teams take on the challenge every year. Sleep? That’s for wimps

68 23

36

PHOTOGRAPHY: JAMES-PEARSON-HOWES (1), DAVID CLERIHEW (1), REX FEATURES (1), RED BULL PHOTOFILES (1), CORBIS (1), GIAN PAUL LOZZA (1)

68 SEBASTIAN VETTEL The life of an F1 driver isn’t all beautiful cars and fast women. We follow the young driver and man-of-the-moment during a scorching Grand Prix weekend to see what drives him to break a sweat

More Body & Mind

78 THE HANGAR-7 INTERVIEW Shaggy has been sadly absent from the Top 40 of late, but Mr Boombastic is alive, well and in… Salzburg 80 SLACKLINING IN METEORA A visit to these stunning rock pillars in Greece for those with a head for heights 84 LISTINGS Our worldwide guide to the best action-packed days and nights 88 NIGHTLIFE It all kicks off after dark: Black Box Revelation rock Bruges; superstar DJ A-TRAK talks Brooklyn; London graffiti artist INSA shares paint and a pint; and Hamburg goes all New York on us 94 BULL’S EYE We scale new comedic heights 96 SHORT STORY Some philosophical debate down the pub can lead to anything, even a call from Barack Obama himself 98 STEPHEN BAYLEY Our design expert ponders the paradoxical nature of that supersonic speedster, Concorde FOR MORE LIKE THIS, VISIT: WWW.REDBULL.COM 07


LETTERS

WORD UP!

Wisecracks and wisdom from the world of Red Bull and beyond. Tell us what you think by emailing letters@redbulletin.com “YOU CAN FIND A GOOD GIRL IN EVERY COUNTRY. BUT ESPECIALLY THE CZECH REPUBLIC. THERE’S A LOT OF BLONDE GIRLS. ALSO IN AMERICA THERE’S A LOT OF BLONDE GIRLS. BLONDE IS YELLOW HAIR, RIGHT?”

“The pain and damage my body took from the thrashing is going to take weeks of recovery. But the glow of winning three years in a row will take years to wear off”

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“THERE’S A FEW DRASTIKS OUT THERE. IF THEY HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME STEALING THE GOOGLE THUNDER THEN SO BE IT, BUT WHEN I WAS GIVEN MY NAME, THERE WAS NO GOOGLE TO SEARCH STUFF LIKE THAT”

“It’s a tradition that, after your first kill, you have to cut the springbok’s throat and rub its warm blood on your face. Then, if it’s a male, you eat its testicle, and if it’s female, you gut it and take a chunk of its liver. Unfortunately, I shot a male and… well…”

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“I dream about hiking up, flying the whole day and then the next day doing the same. My days are similar to my dreams!” N`ee\if]I\[9lccO$8cgj)''0:_i`jk`XeDXli\i_Xj_`j_\X[`ek_\Zcfl[jdfjk[Xpj

“YOU KNOW HOW SECURING MUSIC RIGHTS CAN BE. BANDS WANT 50 GRAND OR 100 GRAND MAYBE. BUT I THINK WE GOT MGMT FOR A COUPLE OF COMPLETE SKATEBOARDS. THEY JUST WANTED TO SKATE, DUDE!”

“I SAW A TV SHOW CALLED VANDALS ON THE RAMPAGE, OR SOMETHING, WITH CCTV FOOTAGE OF SOMEONE SPRAYING UP A BUILDING… AND IT WAS ME”

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“All of my friends from my normal soccer days said to me, ‘No, it’s not football! Stop that – play on the field!’ But now they find me on Facebook and know that I’m the world champion for freestyle, they say ‘Oh, wow, that’s great!’”

“I just get random stuff that I like. I have a moustache tattooed on my finger. Normal skin is boring”

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08

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ILLUSTRATION: DIETMAR KAINRATH

K A I N R AT H

09


A L P E D’HUEZ, FRANCE

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Bullevard Feed your eyes and soul with some of the world’s best sporting images


11


LOS ANGELES, USA

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YOU REALLY OUGHT TO KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT

CONNER COFFIN

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WORDS: TOM HALL, RUTH MORGAN. PHOTOGRAPHY: RUTGERPAUW.COM/RED BULL PHOTOFILES. AGUSTIN MUNOZ/RED BULL PHOTOFILES

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PICTURES OF THE MONTH

EVERY SHOT ON TARGET Email your pics with a Red Bull flavour to letters@redbulletin.com. Every one we print wins a pair of Sennheiser PMX 80 Sport II headphones. These sleek, sporty and rugged stereo ’phones feature an ergonomic neckband and vertical transducer system for optimum fit and comfort. Their sweat- and water-resistant construction also makes them ideal for all music-loving sports enthusiasts. www.sennheiser.co.uk c\kk\ij7i\[Ylcc\k`e%Zfd

14

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B U L L E VA R D

FALL GUY The British diver (who isn’t a schoolboy) aiming to win a major title

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B U L L E VA R D

SCREEN PLAY

BLACKPOOL ROCKS

Beach volleyball decamps to its most unlikely venue Beach volleyball is the most Californian of sports, and this month it drifts over to Blackpool in the shape of the English Masters: West Coast, on the north-west coast of England, with many of the world’s leading players taking part. World sport’s surest thing, after the England football team losing on penalties, is the appearance of Brazilians in the running for world champions. This year is no different with Talita Antunes and Maria Antonelli currently leading the women’s ranking, while Harley Marques Silva and Alison Cerutti are running second behind Germany’s Julius Brink and Jonas Reckermann in the men’s competition. Familiarity with the Copacabana should favour the Brazilians at the undoubtedly similar surroundings of Blackpool’s St Chad’s Headland.

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Beach volleyball players, it seems, swap partners like Big Brother contestants. Both Brazilian pairings are new for 2009, as are the Greek pairing of Vicky Arvaniti and Maria Tsiartsiani, a good each-way bet in the women’s draw. If you don’t want to back Brazilians in the men’s competition, then the Germans are a well-fancied duo. There will be lots of outside eyes, and not only because of the athletic prowess of the participants. At the forthcoming London Olympics, beach volleyball is expected to be one of the hottest tickets – a venue will be constructed on Horse Guards Parade – so this competition will be a good indication to see if it’ll be BV GB OK in 2012.

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Dorset @kËjYXZbkfeXkli\n`k_k_\I\[9lcc :fcX<og\i`\eZ\Xk:Xdg9\jk`mXc% KfdAfe\j

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WORDS: PAUL WILSON. PHOTOGRAPHY: RAY DEMSKI/RED BULL PHOTOFILES

Great things to watch this month, online and on the sofa


B U L L E VA R D

ME AND MY BODY

ANDREU LACONDEGUY Crashing like a pro is all part of the routine for Spain’s 20-year-old freeride mountain bike champion. Injuries, he reckons, just make him stronger

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TRIPLE WHAMMY jn_\epflËi\kip`e^ FedflekX`eY`b\jpfl^\kjZXi\[jfd\k`d\ ]\m\i pn\\b\e[ kjkl] ]]\i\e `e^[` i\[f c\n\Ë XY`^ki`Zb%@ejcfg\jkp \i`[`e^pfl pflËi n_\e Xj\m\ipZfek\jkXe[Zflij\`j[`]]\i\ek#Ylk kipe\n [feËk #pfl fl[f j\`]p [feËkk_`ebXYflkZiXj_`e^#Y\ZXl [\i#e\n ^_Xi kip`e cnXpj @ËdX cfkXj iXj_X jj%@Z jkl]]Xe[gif^i\ \ki`gc\RYXZb]c`gT# jkl]]%K_`jn`ek\i@Ëd^f`e^kfkipXe[c\Xiek_ ]k\e#jf@dljk k_Xkf _lik Ëk^\k %@[fe n_`Z_effe\_Xj\m\i[fe\ flk]fin\\bj ip#@Ëd cc`eal XjdX f^\k [`]@[ j_%8e kfZiX befn_fn Y\ZXlj\ YXYcp i#gif Y\kk\ Xe[k_\eZfd\YXZbXe[[f\m\e ^% ki`[`e XYfl `eb`e^ d\k_ _Xkk` @nXjj`kk`e^Xcck

WORDS: RUTH MORGAN. PHOTOGRAPHY: JOHN GIBSON

THE MISSING INK @c`b\kXkkffj%@^fkdp]lccjc\\m\fedp  i`^_kXid[fe\n_\e@nXj(.%@^fkj fd\ ifj\j#dpeXd\Xe[jfd\fk_\i]cf n\ij# jfd\jgX[\j]ifdZXi[j]ficlZb#Xe[  `kjXpjÊ]fi\m\ipfle^Ële[\ie\Xk_% @^\kiXe[fdjkl]]k_Xk@c`b\%@_Xm\ XdfljkXZ_\kXkkff\[fedp]`e^\i# n_`Z_`jgi\kkp]leep%E\ok#@Ëcc[fdp c\]kjc\\m\#k_\e^f]fik_\Z_\jkfi jfd\k_`e^%EfidXcjb`e`jYfi`e^# jf @Ëd^\kk`e^dfi\Xe[dfi\kXkkffj% IT’S A DIRTY JOB @Ëm\Y\\ekfk_\^pdXYflk]fli k`d\j#`kËjjlg\i$Yfi`e^%GifYXYcp k_\ZiXq`\jkk_`e^XYflk ]i\\jkpc\`jpfl[feËknfibflk kf^\kY\kk\i#pfl[f`kkfY\i\X[p ]fiXZiXj_%K_\jkife^\ipflXi\# k_\c\jjpflËcc^\k_lik%@Ëdkip`e^ kf^\kY\kk\iXki`[`e^#giXZk`j`e^ fek_\[`ik%@gXikpXY`k#Ylkfecp X]\ng\fgc\ZXei`[\#jf @gXikpn`k_dpY`b\% Kfj\\dfi\f]8e[i\lËj]i\\i`[\ dflekX`eY`b\jb`ccjm`j`kn nn% dpjgXZ\%Zfd&cXbfdlc`j_X


B U L L E VA R D

APPY DAYS

RAMPS AND AMPS

Adventure sports and music festival is no longer all Wight Organisers of the White Air festival, which this month moves to Brighton from its former home on the Isle of Wight, are good people. They save lovers of music and seekers of thrills a pot of cash by marrying days filled with extreme sports to packed evening line-ups of musical talent. It’s a winning combo. White Air has evolved into the largest mixed gathering of its kind in Europe. From September 18-20, more than 40 sports will be on show, from surfing, skateboarding and BMX, to the lesser-spotted likes of slacklining, ropeboarding, bocking and extreme yo-yoing. Out to sea, high-powered Thundercat boats will cut through the waves, while five-time world champion kiteboarder Aaron Hadlow will take to a sea-based slider, plus the best UK 18

windsurfers battle it out for the national freestyle crown. Oh, and an Olympic medallist will high-dive from a 30m platform into a shallow pool – on fire. Seriously. Then, when night falls, the music starts. Mancunian headliners Doves join The Cribs, Biffy Clyro, Brighton’s own British Sea Power and alternative rock trio Sky Larkin in the evening line-up. The icing on the cake is White Air’s ‘Have a Go’ programme, which means any festivalgoer can receive expert tuition in most of the activities on show. That even includes the opportunity of a one-on-one lesson from Jordan’s cagefighting beau Alex Reid. There’s almost too much, but as Luther Vandross said, that option is better than the alternative. J`^elgkfÊ?Xm\8>fË#Xe[Ylpk`Zb\kj#Xk nnn%n_`k\X`i%Zf%lb

Shuffling through his driving music playlists will not be a priority for Red Bull Racing driver Sebastian Vettel during the Italian Grand Prix. But the F1 ace will be straight on his iPhone once he’s crossed the finish line at Monza, to use an app that is helping the German with his winning ways. F1 Timing App, developed by Soft Pauer, uses GPS information from the racetracks to render the race in real time on your iPhone – a sort of Grand Prix radar that shows cars’ progress in great detail on a 3D circuit map. Add in regular info updates, and you’ve got F1 in your pocket so good that the drivers themselves use it for work. “I like to see where I could have done things better,” says Vettel. “The new timing and track positioning application… allows me to understand why certain things are happening.” Vettel’s team, Red Bull Racing, has also launched an app, in the shape of Red Bull GP. With the Pitter function, all the team’s pit-lane gossip is relayed in short and sweet Twitter style, while the Garage function allows fans to pore over every detail of the RB5 car and its predecessors. Best of all, it’s free. ;fnecfX[I\[9lcc>GXe[=(K`d`e^ 8gg]ifd`Kle\j#Xknnn%`kle\j%Zfd

WORDS: RUTH MORGAN, TOM HALL. PHOTOGRAPHY: WHITE AIR (8)

Seb Vettel and Red Bull Racing use iPhone for fans and wins


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LUCKY NUMBERS

LONDON FASHION WEEK The most fabulous five days in the couture calendar, re-imagined with a striking numerical motif

25 P\Xijj`eZ\k_\]`ijkCfe[fe=Xj_`feN\\b%@knXj(0/+ n_\ek_\e\ncp]fid\[9i`k`j_=Xj_`fe:fleZ`cjkile^ kf^\k_\iXZfcc\Zk`fef]ZXknXcbj_fnjXe[ZfZbkX`c gXik`\j`eCfe[fe#cfe^XZ\eki\f]nfic[kX`cfi`e^Xe[ [\j`^e#kfdXkZ_j`d`cXi\m\ekj`eE\nPfib#GXi`j Xe[D`cXe%K\cc`e^k_\=\YilXipXe[J\gk\dY\iC=Nj XgXik`j\Xjp1k_\Xlkldej_fn`j]fik_\]fccfn`e^ p\XiËjjgi`e^&jldd\iZfcc\Zk`fejXe[k_\n`ek\in\\b _`^_c`^_kj[\j`^e\ijËXlklde&n`ek\iiXe^\j%>fkk_Xk6

WORDS: PAUL WILSON. PHOTOGRAPHY: GETTY IMAGES (3), REX FEATURES (2)

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48

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152

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58

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19


KIT EVOLUTION

BLEEP YEARS From its very origin to its latest incarnation, electronic music making that pushes the right buttons

GOOD VIBRATIONS THEREMIN, 1920 :fej`[\i\[YpdXepkfY\k_\]`ijk\c\Zkife`Zdlj`ZXc`ejkild\ek# `knXj[\m\cfg\[YpGif]\jjfiC\feK_\i\d`e#Xg_pj`Z`jkXe[ \c\Zki`ZXck`eb\i\i#n_fj_fn\[Xef$[flYkYX]]c\[glYc`Z_`jZi\Xk`fe ]fik_\]`ijkk`d\`eJX`ekG\k\ijYli^`e(0)'%8K_\i\d`enfibjYp [\k\Zk`e^k_\\c\Zki`ZZ_Xi^\Y\kn\\eXeX\i`XcXe[X_Xe[e\XiYp% N_\ek_Xk_Xe[dfm\j#k_\Z_Xi^\Z_Xe^\jXe[Xck\ijk_\g`kZ_f] k_\jfle[gif[lZ\[%Jfd\df[\cj_Xm\Xj\Zfe[#f]k\e_fi`qfekXc# X\i`Xck_XkZfekifcjmfcld\%K_`j<Zc`gj\K_\i\d`e`j_Xe[dX[\ YpAXb\Ifk_dXennn%dXZXi`j%Zf%lb #n_fj\ZiX]k_Xj\eXYc\[ k_\c`b\jf]<cm`j:fjk\ccf#>fc[]iXggXe[k_\9\Xjk`\9fpjkf ^\e\iXk\k_\n`YYcp$nfYYcpjfle[k_Xk`jjf\mfZXk`m\f](0,'j jZ`$]`jfle[kiXZbjXe[(0-'jgjpZ_\[\c`Zgfgdlj`Z%


LIGHT FANTASTIC YAMAHA TENORI-ON, 2005 @]k_`jcffbjdfi\kfpk_Xe`ejkild\ekkfpfl#k_\epflnfeËk Y\jligi`j\[k_Xk`kj`em\ekfi#AXgXe\j\Xik`jkKfj_`f@nX`#_Xj XkiXZbi\Zfi[`eZfdglk\i^Xd\jXe[\ogcfi`e^k_\`ek\i]XZ\ Y\kn\\edlj`Z#\c\Zkife`ZjXe[c`^_k%?`jK\efi`$Fe`jXe`ekl`k`m\ dlj`Z$dXb`e^[\m`Z\k_XkglkjfeXc`^_kj_fnkfXZZfdgXep`kj kle\j%Fg\iXkfijdXe`glcXk\k_\),-C<;j#Xjn\ccXjk_\Ylkkfej fek_\]iXd\#kfZi\Xk\kiXZbjXe[je`gg\kjf]jfle[#n_`Z_ZXe k_\eY\]\[kfXj\hl\eZ\ifiZfdglk\i]fi]lik_\iki\Xkd\ek%8cfe^ n`k_9aibXe[=fliK\k#\c\Zkifgfgjki\cC`kkc\9ffkjcfm\jX K\efi`$Fe#Xe[ZXeY\j\\elj`e^_\iji\^lcXicp`eZfm\ijf]jfe^j i\hl\jk\[Yp]Xej#m`[\fjf]n_`Z_j_\gfjkjfePflKlY\%=fidfi\ \c\Zkife`Zdlj`Z#j\\fliKfdFY\i_\`d`ek\im`\nfegX^\*' 21

WORDS: PAUL WILSON. PHOTOGRAPHY: LUKE KIRWAN. GET YOUR OWN LED SOUNDSYSTEM FROM WWW.KMRAUDIO.COM

B U L L E VA R D


B U L L E VA R D

Top performers and winning ways from across the globe

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DXpX>XY\`iX9I8 K_\Y`^nXm\jli]\inXjjX`[kfY\ È_ldYc\[ÉX]k\in`ee`e^Xe<JGP#k_\ % X[m\ekli\jgfikj\hl`mXc\ekf]XeFjZXi  [n`k_ j\ek\ Xjgi\ i$fc[n )$p\X K_\) k_\9\jk=\dXc\8Zk`feJgfikj8k_c\k\ XnXi[XkXjkXi$jkl[[\[Z\i\dfep`eCfj 8e^\c\j#_fjk\[YpJXdl\cCAXZbjfe%

22

8j_c\p=`fc\bLJ8 K_\=cfi`[X$YXj\[dfkfZifjji`[\i kffbk_\^fc[d\[Xc`eJlg\iOk_XkËj efkXZXg`kXcc\kk\i#`kËjXZifjj [li`e^ _\i]`ijkO>Xd\jk_Xkfe\ËjX c\kk\i#efkXZifjj %K_\(/$p\Xi$fc[# n_fnXjYfiegif]fle[cp[\X]#Y\Xk dX`ei`mXcA\jj`ZXGXkk\ijfe]fik_\ n`e`ek_\Ê_`ccpjg\\[nXpË\m\ek%

9i`XeM`Zb\ijLJ8  K_\I\[9lccIXZ`e^[i`m\ikffbXn\cc$[\j\im\[ ]`ijkgcXZ\n`k_Xjb`c]lc[i`m\Xkk_\:Xi]Xo+'' XkD`Z_`^Xe@ek\ieXk`feXcJg\\[nXp%@knXjk_\ k\XdËj]`ijkE8J:8Im`ZkfipÆ\oXZkcp0'*[Xpj X]k\i`k]`ijk\ek\i\[k_\Jgi`ek:lgJ\i`\j%

WORDS: RUTH MORGAN. PHOTOGRAPHY: GETTY IMAGES (1), CHRISTIAN PONDELLA/RED BULL PHOTOFILES (1), GRANT ROBINSON (1). ILLUSTRATION: DIETMAR KAINRATH

HARD & FAST


B U L L E VA R D

WHEREâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S YOUR HEAD AT?

ANGELINA JOLIE

She rules in action movies, and â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;properâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; ones. Sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s trying to make the world a nicer place. But did you know about Jolie Airways or the chatline cartoon? LOVE SCENE, TAKE 3

34 AND COUNTING

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B U L L E VA R D

WINNING FORMULA

SLIPPERY WHEN WET

WORDS: ANTHONY ROWLINSON, DR MARTIN APOLIN. PHOTOGRAPHY: GETTY IMAGES/RED BULL PHOTOFILES. ILLUSTRATION: MANDY FISCHER

It looks spectacular, but you don’t want to be the man behind the wheel when a Formula One car aquaplanes. We find out why it happens and how you deal with it THE WHEELMAN “Aquaplaning is a driver’s worst nightmare, no question,” says David Coulthard, Red Bull Racing team consultant and winner of 13 Grands Prix. “Driving in the wet itself is not that big an issue, because you drive to the level of grip available – there’s just less of it when the track is wet, in the same way that there’s more when you have super-sticky tyres that make you a couple of seconds per lap faster. “But what makes wet conditions hazardous is aquaplaning, and it can be particularly severe in a modern, flat-bottomed Formula One car: if you hit running water, then the underside of the car, in effect, acts like a rudder. You’re suddenly on top of the water and you have this big, flat, rudder-like device that turns the car in the direction of the running water. That’s why you will sometimes see a car suddenly dizzying around even if it’s travelling in a straight line. And because of the speed at which it happens, you have no chance to catch it, nor do you have any grip to work against, because the car is on top of water, with no tyre rubber against the track surface. “When we had traction control it was immensely useful, because it would cut the power as soon as it felt the rear wheels spin when they lifted on top of the water. But now we don’t have it anymore, a driver has no choice but to get off the power. If you’re dead lucky you might not spin, but really you’re in the lap of the gods when it happens. “To give you some idea of how it feels, imagine you’re in a road car and you’ve committed to a high-speed corner. Suddenly, and without warning, an invisible hand yanks on the handbrake and locks up the rear axle, sending you into a massive spin. That’s what it’s like – only faster because you’re in an F1 car. “It only takes a few millimetres of water to make aquaplaning happen, because an F1 car is so light that it’s inclined to lift off the water, like a boogie board. A bigger, heavier car would cut through, squashing the water out of the way.”

THE BRAINY SPIEL MAN “An F1 car generally has an output of 750bhp, and it’s a headache to get that power onto the track,” says Dr Martin Apolin, physicist and sports scientist. “Power isn’t everything; friction matters, too. The friction force (FF) between the tyres and the road surface is the key factor in loss of performance and must never exceed driving force. “If the car was on sheet ice, because of the lack of friction, it wouldn’t move off the spot. Friction force is equal to friction coefficient times weight, FF = μw. Weight, on the other hand, is mass times acceleration due to gravity (g = 9.81m/s2), w = mg, which means that FF = μmw. The general correlation between a force (F) and the resulting acceleration (a) is laid down in Newton’s second law of motion as F = ma. If you convert that equation, you can see why they’re sparing when filling the tank at Grands Prix, because acceleration is inversely proportional to mass, which means the lower the mass, the greater the acceleration. “If we compare both formulas for force (F = FF), maximum acceleration comes out as a = μg, which means acceleration is proportional to the friction coefficient. In extreme cases, this can be 1.1 for tyres and dry tarmac. So one can calculate acceleration at 1.1g or a = 10.8m/s2 which means getting from 0 to 100kph (27.8m/s) in 2.6 seconds. You have to play around a bit to achieve greater acceleration. In F1, aerodynamic downforce is achieved thanks to wings, which increase weight and thereby friction. “Water on the track is disadvantageous because it causes μ to decrease by about 0.8. That means less friction and a loss of acceleration of about 30 per cent. As speed in the turns is proportional to the root of μ, this has to be reduced by about 15 per cent in wet conditions or one ends up with more downforce. Also, the tyres need to be changed from smooth slicks to wets. The tread deflects the water, helping to avoid aquaplaning.” =(m`j`kjJ`e^Xgfi\k_`jdfek_#n_`Z__XjX,'g\i Z\ekZ_XeZ\f]_\XmpiX`e1nnn%i\[YlcciXZ`e^%Zfd

25


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Heroes World-class athletes and whizz-kids, past and present 28 DYNAMO 30 TOM OBERHEIM 34 ARNAUD ‘SÉAN’ GARNIER 36 STEVE FISHER

27


HEROES

DYNAMO

The street magician who really is from the streets has the skills to make your head spin and your eyes doubt themselves – and his shoelaces tie themselves unaided. How on earth does he do it? Words: Tom Hall Portrait: Marius W Hansen

“Paul Daniels was a gangsta!” laughs the scrawny figure clad in chunky Adidas trainers, baggy jeans and a trackie top. It’s not really the attire you’d expect of one of the world’s great practitioners of the 9fie ;\Z\dY\i(.#(0/) dark arts, and nor is the joke part of his usual style. Dynamo, aka Steven Frayne, or ‘D’, as close friends C`m\j ?`^_^Xk\#Cfe[fe# refer to him, rarely shifts an indifferent steely gaze. <e^cXe[ (Is it part of his act? Should the guy be left alone to @ejg`iXk`fe prepare?) But every now and then he cracks the odd 8]k\ic\Xie`e^k_\YXj`Zj grin and we’re back in the room. On this occasion, ]ifd_`j^iXe[]Xk_\i#k_\ it follows the suggestion that Debbie McGee’s other ('$p\Xi$fc[=iXpe\lj\[ half now struggles to retain an air of credibility. dX^`ZkfÊgjpZ_$flkË “He’s still a legend,” Dynamo explains, reclining in Ylcc`\jfe9iX[]fi[Ëj a booth in London’s Met Bar, about 30 minutes before ;\cg_?`cc_flj`e^\jkXk\ he’s due to perform there. “He just didn’t know when >lk]\\c`e^ to retire, that was the problem. He could’ve left on ;peXdf_Xj:if_eËj [`j\Xj\#d\Xe`e^k_Xk top, but you get stuck into this and you don’t ever [\jg`k\Xcck_\gXik`\j# want to lose it. People like Paul Daniels showed me _\e\`k_\i[i`ebj what you can achieve by following magic. He was XcZf_fcefijdfb\j a national celebrity. So if he can do it, why can’t I?” :iXq`\jkki`Zb Dynamo is being modest. This 26-year-old has KXb\pflig`Zb#Ylk achieved in five years what most magicians struggle ;peXdf_Xj[\m\cfg\[ nXpf]c\Xe`e^YXZbnXi[j# to do their whole careers. Raised on Bradford’s `d`kXk`e^k_\jcfn$df notorious Delph Hill Estate, he has spent more than Ylcc\k$[f[^`e^jZ\e\j`e a decade and a half working at his skills, and while k_\DXki`oki`cf^p#Xki`Zb David Blaine seems trapped in a disappearing trick `ejg`i\[YpD`Z_X\c up his own backside, Dynamo has brought the AXZbjfeËj^iXm`kp$[\]p`e^ spectacular back to street level. ]finXi[c\Xe`ek_\ After moving to London and buying a camera and Jdffk_:i`d`eXcm`[\f laptop with a Prince’s Trust loan in 2005, Dynamo began gatecrashing celebrity parties and wowing the likes of Chris Martin, Snoop Dogg and Ian Brown with his close-up magic. All expressed the now commonplace reaction on seeing his tricks: one that’s somewhere between “Amazing!” and “SH******”!!!”. The resulting DVD of his efforts, Underground Magic, led to a Channel 4 TV special, Dynamo’s Estate of Mind, and now his internet show, DynamoTV, takes the no-frills thrills even further, hanging out with De La Soul in Miami, wowing musicians at Glastonbury and freaking out Wu-Tang Clan rapper EXd\ Jk\m\eÊ;peXdfË=iXpe\

28

Raekwon. He’s also worked parties in the Hollywood Hills with Paris Hilton and made a cameo appearance on Snoop Dogg’s Father Hood on MTV. “I call them my uncles,” he says of the hip-hop elite who queue up to offer him advice on the fame game. Perhaps they see similarities to their own stories of coming from hard-fought beginnings, but it was a blood relative, Dynamo’s grandfather, who first inspired the 10-year-old Frayne to study magic. “My grandpa wasn’t a magician, he was a pool hustler,” he says. “He was in the army, and he did tricks to keep the rest of the troops entertained. He got out just after World War II, and everything was tight back then, so he used tricks to win a few extra quid. I’ve got ‘Grandpa’ tattooed on my neck. He’s always looking over my shoulder. “I’m inspired by pickpockets,” he continues. “People who genuinely rob you. There’s a guy, Apollo Robbins, who stole guns from the holsters of the Secret Service agents guarding ex-President Jimmy Carter. He does it for entertainment now, but he’s the real deal.” During tonight’s show Dynamo traps an audience member’s mobile phone in a glass bottle, turns lottery tickets into bank notes with the flick of a wrist, and works the Dynamo-shuffle, a card cut that’s half breakdance and half mind-mangling feat of physics. His new takes on old standards means he’s pushing magic away from its traditional roots. Does he fear leaving behind some of the mystique? “I love learning from the old masters, but I have to be up to date! It’s not like I particularly want to ruin a classic. My main aim is to make it better. When I used to read about magicians, I used to think they were guys who would just create miracles totally unplanned, you know? Just pick up a phone and put it inside a bottle because they felt like it. So that’s how I think magic should be presented. “If you were really magic, then that’s what you’d do. And I am really magic, so that’s what I do.” JkXp^cl\[k_\i\`jeffk_\ifgk`fe kf;peXdfKMXk nnn%dpjgXZ\%Zfd&[peXdf[peXdf


Ki`ZbpYlj`e\jj1;peXdfËj dX^`Zgif[lZ\ji\XZk`fej k_Xk^\e\iXccpiXe^\]ifd È8dXq`e^ÉkfÈJ_!!!!!!É


HEROES

Pioneer

TOM OBERHEIM From his groundbreaking synthesiser in the 1970s to the DMX drum machine that defined the sound of hip-hop, the American inventor has shaped the sounds of musical generations

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30

A dozen seconds into Run DMC’s Rock Box after the introductory vocals and skittering snares evaporate, a heavily reverbed drum pattern sets up a groove that to modern ears might sound hopelessly rudimentary. Matched by a roughly sampled overdriven guitar riff, it might even feel slightly cheesy. But with this and a handful of revolutionary singles, the Hollis group defined a new music, hip-hop, for a generation. Rewind just a few years and spool up Canadian trio Rush’s FM radio staple Tom Sawyer, the first crunching power chord wrapped in a swooping synthesised pulse, a single liquid note providing the soundtrack to a thousand spring-break parties. On the face of it, the two records have little in common, one at the cutting edge of a genre that would radically make over modern pop music, the other a techno-rock workout signalling the last days of a 1970s obsession with prog-rock virtuosity. But behind the two songs lies a technological link that crosses genres, bridging jazz and fusion, electronica, rock, hip-hop and modern DJ culture. In short, both records have a lot to thank Tom Oberheim for. Inventor of the polyphonic synthesiser, pioneer of the digital drum machine, Tom helped shape the sound of modern music, though the now 73-year-old engineer baulks at the suggestion. “If you’re talking about the first synthesisers, I don’t think I was a pioneer,” he insists. “That was done by Robert Moog and a guy called Don Buchla. For myself, I think I developed some things that now might be called pioneering. Back then, though, I wasn’t thinking like that. I was just trying to make things that would keep my business alive.” The business was Oberheim Electronics, the company the young engineer founded after quitting his Kansas home for Los Angeles, a move based on nothing more than a desire to see live jazz. “I read in Down Beat magazine an advertisement for a place called the Lighthouse Café in Hermosa Beach where Bud Shank and Bob Cooper, two jazz

musicians, played for free. That was enough for me. Of course, I didn’t understand the words ‘two-drink minimum’ in those days.” It was a crucial move. Arriving in Los Angeles with $10, Tom worked for Lockheed Aircraft before cycling through a variety of engineering jobs that trained him not only in electronics, but in the formative years of digital technology. He kept in touch with music, though, eventually becoming involved with a second iteration of seminal proto-prog-rock outfit The United States of America, whose sole self-titled album for Columbia is now regarded as a classic psych-era recording. “I met (bandleader) Joseph Byrd when I was studying at UCLA,” recalls Tom. “He was a teaching assistant in the music department, but he was also putting on artistic events, happenings, as the New Music Workshop. When I left I lost touch with him, but later found out he was part of The United States of America. “That band broke up, but in 1968 I started going to rehearsals for a new version of the band led by the singer Dorothy Moskowitz. They asked me to build them a device called a ring modulator because the original band had used one.” It was to be the genesis of Oberheim as a company. Forging an alliance with a large distributor, Tom began to sell the modulators steadily, showing products at the vast annual NAMM musical instruments show, where in a bid to grow the business, he also became a dealer for a new brand of synthesiser called ARP. The machines, though, had limitations. “I’d been building sequencers (a machine that triggers the synthesiser to play a pattern of notes), but it left you with a predicament. If you used it to play the synth, you couldn’t then play the keyboard.” Tom’s response was the Synthesiser Expander Module, a machine that gave the musician an extra voice so he could play the keyboard while the sequencer was playing a different pattern. In turn,

PHOTOGRAPHY: RUTGER PAUW/RED BULL PHOTOFILES

Words: Justin Hynes


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it gave birth to Tom’s great breakthrough and the one he rightly regards as pioneering – the polyphonic synthesiser. But it was conceived in a moment of desperation. “In 1975 I got a call from the distributors who’d been selling the ring modulators to say that because of the economy being bad, they were cancelling their orders. It was a massive blow,” he says. “It was clear that we were in trouble and we’d have to try something else. I remembered an experiment I’d done a couple of years before with a musician friend, where we’d taken two ARP 2600 synthesisers, connected two SEMs to them and managed to play two notes on each keyboard, which was pretty impressive. You have to remember that up to this point, synthesisers were monophonic – you could only play one note at a time.” The result was polyphonic synthesis and the ability to play chords, a development which would arguably lead the synthesiser out of the realms of jazz and progressive rock esoterica and into the mainstream. The first went to Stevie Wonder. “We took the first one to Crystal Sound studio in Hollywood, where Stevie was recording. I think he was working on the Songs in the Key of Life album. He was using this monstrous Yamaha keyboard, the GX1, which weighed about 800lb and cost about $60,000. Although the prototype I sold to Stevie was only four voices, it was expandable to eight, weighed only 80lb and cost under $6000 for eight voices.” Joe Zawinul of legendary jazz-fusion experts Weather Report was another enthusiastic buyer. “In 1976 I got a call from Joe. He had purchased a four-voice or eight-voice and asked me to help him, so I went to his house in Pasadena,” recalls Oberheim. “I explained it in pretty technical terms. Joe understood most of what I was telling him, but my impression was that the machine wasn’t right for him. “Several weeks later, however, Joe called again and invited me to hear his latest composition. He said the Oberheim played a big part in it. When I arrived, Joe played me a rough mix of Birdland. I was completely blown away. It was a real learning experience for me, seeing how a great musician 32

can look beyond the pure technical hardware of such a device and make great music with it.” It was the beginning of the key period of Oberheim’s success. Hundreds of landmark records were made using the early polyphonic and subsequent machines, including the ubiquitous OB-X, a keyboard made unintentionally famous by Eddie Van Halen in the video for the huge 1984 hit Jump. “There are two key songs featuring Oberheim. Birdland is one and the other is Jump by Van Halen. There’s hundreds of great records with Oberheim on them, but frankly it’s hard to tell. But with Van Halen it just is. You can definitely see Eddie Van Halen playing a very dirty, dusty OB-Xa. That’s great!” And Tom would shape the next era of electronic music with a machine that he admits wasn’t initially his idea. “It was mentioned to me that a guy called Roger Linn was building a digital drum machine and, since I’d been involved in digital when I worked with computers, it seemed like a natural fit,” he says. “We invited him down and talked about licensing his technology, but he wanted his own company, which he did very successfully, so we went ahead anyway, with the DMX.” The DMX became a must-have weapon in the arsenal of every nascent dance and hip-hop star. You can hear its drums on Madonna’s Holiday, on early Run DMC singles, on the mid-’80s work of Janet Jackson and Alexander O’Neal producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, and on key albums by Prince. Thirty years on, Oberheim remains slightly mystified by the attention he now receives, being invited to consult for major electronics companies and to lecture as an industry ‘pioneer’ at globespanning events such as Red Bull Music Academy. “I get invited to speak as a pioneer, but when I was doing these things it wasn’t with the view of being an explorer,” he says. “It was a case of thinking: ‘This is... fun.’ When you build a machine and go to a concert and hear Joe Zawinul playing a machine I designed and built... it’s a ‘wow’ moment. It’s not ‘aren’t I great, I’m a pioneer’. It’s the simple process of sitting in a theatre listening to a great musician playing my instrument. What could be better.” And it is a continuing passion. Asked to speak at the Red Bull Music Academy in Barcelona in October last year, Tom began to revisit his past. “I took along some examples of music made with my machines, a little demo of those records. It was amazing to hear all that in one shot. Quite emotional. “Because of that trip I decided to revive the SEM module, a modern manufactured version of a 1974 Oberheim synth. It’s going back to the source. I still love it. I just love the sound of these machines.” As do countless others. Roger Manning Jr’s work can be heard on albums by Beck and Air, and in the early ’90s with his band Jellyfish. Touring through the vintage equipment at his home studio, Manning runs his hand across the keys of one of Tom’s machines. “Oberheims have my favourite tones. They’re the most gutsy, organic, warm, the richest, spikiest, most aggressive tones. They are wonderful.” C`jk\ekfk_\dXe_`dj\c]Xknnn%i\[Ylccdlj`ZXZX[\dp%Zfd& m`[\f$XiZ_`m\&c\Zkli\j&kfdVfY\i_\`dVgfcpg_fe`ZVfe\Vcfm\

PHOTOGRAPHY: GETTY IMAGES (1)

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FRANK LAMPARD

          


HEROES

Hero’s Hero: Arnaud ‘Séan’ Garnier on

DIEGO MARADONA Red Bull Street Style’s French world champion left mainstream football to indulge his creative urges. He explains how an Argentinian legend was the first player to get him in a spin

Everyone remembers Argentina’s match against England in the 1986 World Cup for the ‘Hand of God’ incident [when Diego Maradona scored with a ‘header’ that actually came off his hand]. I was too young to remember it at the time, although I got to see it on video when I was about 10 years old. But it was his second goal in that match that caught my eye – where he takes the ball in the middle of the pitch and dribbles through all the England players. Afterwards, I was always trying to score like Maradona. I played normal football when I was young, training with professional teams AJ Auxerre and Troyes AC in France. But I was injury-prone and had to sit out a couple of seasons, and by the time I was 19, I’d been let go and couldn’t find another club. That’s how my interest in freestyle began. In my free time, I began to mix football with basketball and dance. Maradona always looked like he had a clear head. Before games began, he’d never run about – he’d just take the ball and play with it like he was having fun. I like that kind of football. I’ve learned to do the same in my life. When you ask a normal footballer to do a trick, he takes the ball and starts from the ground. But a freestyler will just as likely start from the air. When I understood this, I thought: “OK, freestyle is not really football at all. You can do anything you want.” So, when I first came to Paris, I’d see all the basketball players on the public courts and I tried to learn their tricks with my hands. In Paris, we don’t have a lot of space for training, so a lot of the freestyle players gather at La Défense Métro 34

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station and share space with followers of other disciplines like breakdancers. Hip-hop dancing is very fluid and rhythmic. From La Défense, I’ve learned to breakdance and I use the ball with my feet while I spin and turn on my hands. I’ve not taken any specific moves from Maradona because he does just the basics. But I’ve learned style from him – that easy style. He can juggle with a football or a tennis ball, and I want to have the same kind of control and freedom. He’s also left-footed like me, so that was always an inspiration. When you talk about Maradona, you’ve always got to mention the Hand of God. For me, you can’t win that way. It was wrong, but it’s his character that came through. At that moment, it was cheating. But afterwards, it became a part of why we know him. His later years with the drugs and the weight gain were obviously a low

point, but that’s life and it’s his choice. Some of my friends smoke and drink. I choose not to, but it’s their choice and they are good guys all the same. I like Maradona for football and for tricks. If I met him, I wouldn’t really be satisfied with just that. I’d actually want to play against him, one-on-one! I’d like to try and knock it through his legs. We call it pana in France, or petit pont, which means ‘small bridge’. I believe it’s known as a ‘nutmeg’ in the UK and Ireland. I’ve managed it against a few professional players in France like Karim Benzema and Ben Arfa. I still follow certain footballing trends, but like to keep it free. I play and coach beach soccer, and hope to make it into the French national side for that soon. I think Maradona being a coach now is good for the image of Argentina, because Maradona is Argentina, you know? But I think it won’t be good if he loses games. People will say, “Oh, he can’t do it because he’s not a properly-trained coach.” But I think he has the most beautiful skills in football. So although it’s going to be difficult for him, I think he has the natural ability to succeed. I’m always trying to get more freestyle tricks into whatever game I play. When I first started doing it, all of my friends from my normal football days said to me, “No, it’s not football! Stop that – play on the field!” But now they find me on Facebook and know that I’m the world champion for freestyle, they say “Oh, wow, that’s great!” :XkZ_lgn`k_k_\cXk\jk]ifdI\[9lcc Jki\\kjkpc\X_\X[f]e\okp\XiËj)'(']`eXcj`e Jflk_8]i`ZXXknnn%i\[Ylccjki\\kjkpc\%Zfd

PHOTOGRAPHY: DOM DAHER/RED BULL PHOTOFILES, GETTY IMAGES

Words: Tom Hall


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HEROES

STEVE FISHER

Careering through wild white water holds no fear for ‘the godfather of kayaking’. The only thing that worries him is that one day he might run out of challenges Words: Uschi Korda Photography: Gian Paul Lozza

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We’re standing at the far end of an eerie Swiss mountain valley and Steve Fisher – considered by experts to be the world’s best kayaker – has just plunged over a 17m waterfall three times. Like most experts, he makes the improbable appear simple. Fisher had visited this location dozens of times before hurling body and boat over the edge, having observed the flow of the water and picked his line. What he couldn’t dictate, however, was the weather. After a stormy night, a babbling brook is now a raging mountain stream. Multiple rapids such as this are laced with danger because the water is so hard to predict. A younger Fisher wouldn’t have blinked before launching into a torrent, but at 33, he looks back with relief at having survived some of his suicidal antics. Fisher first squeezed into a canoe at the age of six. It had been left behind by the Austrian kayak team, who would train for four months every winter on the Bushman’s River, which flowed through Fisher’s parents’ farm in Estcourt, South Africa. Steve would stretch ropes over the water for the slalom kayakers and take care of the slalom posts to earn pocket money. The tricky skill of manoeuvring a boat through rough water became second nature, but he didn’t initially become known as a ‘creeker’ – someone who hurtles down mountain torrents that often contain more stones than water. Instead, he excelled as a dead-water sprinter – becoming the best in the country, but barred from competing in the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, because, at 16, he was still a junior. Still, he wanted to see the world. His first foreign trip was to compete in Holland in 1994. It sparked a passion for discovering unknown places – a passion that sat well with his sport. So in 2000 he set off to Myanmar (formerly Burma) as part of a five-man team to explore the headwaters of the Irrawaddy. The trip took six weeks and encompassed 160km of almost-impassable territories. The men carried equipment and food on a raft through the jungle and the rapids, between kayaking sessions. “On short trips, we carried our food in the kayaks,”

Fisher explains. “But you can only do that for 10 days at most. After that, you start getting really hungry.” Fisher’s most exciting expedition to date was a seven-man, two-month epic in 2002 to Tibet, to explore by boat the source of the Yarlung Tsangpo in the northern Himalayas. The early preparations lasted eight years – Google Earth was yet to be invented and a satellite imaging company had to first photograph the river for the team. You might call them modern-day adventurers, though this kind of undertaking has little in common with treasure island romance. Permits and fees cost US$200,000, which included covering 60 men to carry essential items on foot through the world’s highest mountain range. Yet, according to Fisher, the most important thing is that all members of the team are thinking along the same lines. Which is why selected kayakers lived and worked together around the clock for months in California until the final crew was picked. The correct group number is also vital: “Five or seven kayakers,” he says. “Not six or eight so you get a majority if anything ever comes to a vote.” Fisher also enjoys finding perfect lines for waterways and waterfalls he knows, and tackling spots even other experts avoid, such as the 100m long multilevel rapid in Chutes St Ursule, Canada, with a 46m vertical difference. “I’m the only one to have given it a shot,” he says. He has never gone back. “I’d want to give it another go,” he says. “But the tiniest wobble and I could capsize, and it would snowball from there.” Exploits such as this, and his invention of a dozenor-so moves, including the airscrew and the helix, have made him a feted pioneer and cult hero in the disciplines of Big Water, Steep Creek and Freestyle. But there’s a new rival for his sporting ambition: paragliding. “It’s fantastic! Air behaves in much the same way as water so I know what I’m doing. And from above I can spot new places to go kayaking.” =fi`e]fXYflk@:==i\\jkpc\)''0BXpXb`e^Nfic[ :_Xdg`fej_`gj#n_`Z_Xi\felek`cJ\gk\dY\i-`eK_le# Jn`kq\icXe[#gX[[c\kfnnn%`Z]$k_le)''0%Z_&`e[\o%g_g&\e


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Action 40 TWIN ATLANTIC 46 JAMIE ROBERTS 52 TOKYO BMX 62 RED BULL X-ALPS 68 SEBASTIAN VETTEL

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SCOTLAND THE RAVE

Glasgow band Twin Atlantic played a triumphant homecoming show at T in the Park this summer. Bear witness to the blood, sweat and copious facial hair of a band making the jump from respected underdogs to conquering heroes Words: Tom Hall Photography: James Pearson-Howes

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T

he rounded bricks and eroded sandstone found all over leafy Queen’s Park in Glasgow’s Southside tell a tale the clouds already promise to finish. In Glasgow, it rains. A lot. Four skinny figures in their early 20s dart across wide streets under awnings and into doorways. Hoods and leather jackets go up around dishevelled hair and full beards that cover two of their number. Combined with Ray-Bans just cruelly cheated of useful purpose, Twin Atlantic resemble some kind of indie secret agent squad under heavy disguise, dodging bullets. Albeit a comically inept one. It’s not the start to our whistle-stop tour of Glasgow that we’d planned. But probably the one we should have expected. “It’s not a style thing. Having a beard keeps you warm in the Glasgow weather,” says guitarist Barry McKenna half-jokingly. Surly and bear-like, he’s a foil to languid, stick-thin lead singer Sam McTrusty – all coiffured hair and thoughtful stares. Ducking out of the rain and into the local greasy spoon café, the two are joined by bass player Ross McNae and drummer Craig Kneale. McNae is quietly spoken, peering out from straggly locks and that aforementioned beard. Kneale has a self-deprecating humour that’s at odds with the ferocious beats he pummelled out of a drum kit at T in the Park. Rewind 48 hours to that performance. No wait, maybe 57 hours to just before it, and the band are sprawled out on uncharacteristically dry meadows in Balado, near Kinross. Framed by looming hills that anyone who spends most of their time in a city would describe as mountainous (we didn’t bring a tape measure), the beautiful landscape under fine weather is a breathtaking setting in which to party ’til you puke. “T in the Park kind of resembles a refugee camp, but all the refugees are pissed and spending loads of money,” says a sleepy McNae. The band have just driven 450 miles from Guildford in a cramped mini-van in one night. Needless to say not everyone’s quite awake. But then not everyone’s Craig Kneale. “They’re giving free haircuts and massages in the artists’ area. Let’s do it!” he says with enthusiasm. Trappings of rock stardom are available in teasing glimpses to a band like Twin Atlantic, four guys on the cusp of mainstream notoriety. They’re not quite there yet, but on days like today it’s close enough to snatch and run. Their hardcore-infused, thinking-man’s punk pop achieves that crucial element for a widespread following, balancing big choruses with lyrical content that takes a few listens to crack. Inventive yet familiar, the accessible sound delivered in a defiantly Scottish drawl means that, as they stroll around the festival, they’re greeted more like homecoming heroes. McTrusty is the poster boy that the small groups of fans get all giggly over. Teenagers in Twin Atlantic T-shirts come and high-five him over the crowd barriers while he watches fellow Scots Sucioperro from the side of the stage. Boys want to know who his all-time favourite Scottish act is. “Somewhere between Mogwai and Biffy…” he answers. Girls sing back his own lyrics and make requests for the show. “Give a shout out to Aberdeen,” they beg back over the fence. McTrusty humours them politely, but you can tell the adulation ritual is as depressingly bizarre to him as it is ticklishly novel. “I hope this never gets normal. I hope I’m always…” “Shitting yourself?” offers McNae. “No! I hope I’m always this excited,” he says, in reference to the band’s 7.45pm slot on the Red Bull Bedroom Jam Futures Stage this evening. So is tonight a more special gig than most? “Well, when you’re surrounded by so many Scottish people at T in the Park, that kind of national gathering rarely happens. That’s 42


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him. From that point on, I just found it really funny and wrote this whole song around it. I was reading that Ernest Hemingway book A Farewell To Arms at the time, and it’s all about going K_\Z`kpk_Xk^Xm\ljDkc\p Dfe`ZXn`k_KfYpNi`^_k#n_f :i•\#9cXZb=cX^Xe[k_\I\[?fk _XjXcjfgif[lZ\[i\Zfi[j]fi to war. I never finished it... I kind of do that with books.” :_`c`G\gg\ij_XjY`ik_\[Xe\n 8c`Z\`e:_X`ejXe[JcXp\i%K_\ As show time approaches, the band adopt green facepaint cXY\cj\kfec\Xm`e^`kjdXib jkl[`fcXleZ_\[`kjfnecXY\c# for the gig, in reference to the greenery of their forthcoming fek_\dlj`Z`e[ljkip%>\Xi\[ I\[9lccI\Zfi[j#`e\Xicp)''/% album cover. “If it looks like we’ve just thrown this idea kfnXi[jpfle^Xik`jkjYi\Xb`e^ @kj]`ijki\c\Xj\#;\kif`k#YpE\n together, it’s because we have,” says Barry. `ekfk_\Ylj`e\jj#k_\I\[9lcc Pfib`e[`\$[lf9cXZb>fc[#nXj “Why not eh?” quips McNae. Jkl[`ffg\e\[`eCfj8e^\c\j Xe`Kle\jj`e^c\f]k_\n\\b `e)''.%9Xe[jc`b\DJKIBI=K# Xe[k_\`iXcYld#Ilj_#nXj “We’ll soon see why not,” deadpans McTrusty, the whole 9Xpj`[\Xe[K_\?ldXe8YjkiXZk X_`kn`k_Zi`k`Zj`ek_\LJ% band now resembling a psychedelic crew of nerve-shredded _Xm\Xcci\Zfi[\[XcYldj`ek_\ Kn`e8kcXek`ZXi\k_\j\Zfe[ Braveheart extras. By the time they reach the Red Bull stage, kfg$f]$k_\$c`e\[`^j`eJXekX YXe[j`^e\[kfk_\cXY\c% fears of a deserted tent are quickly replaced by the sheer terror of 3000 raging fans who’ve turned up especially. It’s packed out. why it’s such a party atmosphere and everybody’s so wrecked. “T in the Park… SCOTLAND!... This is pretty f***ing terrifying,” It’s like the one time of year where everyone comes to our turf.” bellows McTrusty and they launch into Lightspeed. What follows The artists’ area couldn’t be further away from a home crowd. is a gloriously messy and triumphant victory lap, with the crowd Filing into the catering tent is a Who’s Who of pop’s high table. seemingly singing along to every word. The band play hard, Veterans The Specials sit circled like an impenetrable gang, with blood splattered from busted fingernails over McTrusty’s the impression heightened by matching ‘Specials’ embroidered white guitar and jeans, and sweat-dissolved facepaint running tracksuit tops. The Killers’ Brandon Flowers shuffles in like into bloodshot eyes. During the acoustic Crash Land, McKenna a kid wary of having his lunch money stolen. Katy Perry takes switches to cello, showing they can do more than big, dumb time out from an alleged onsite ego war with Lady Gaga to grab thrills. The gig ends in chaos as McNae jumps into the crowd some food. Everybody has to eat. Catfights can resume later. and is mistaken by security for a fan. A scuffle ensues. It’s not It’s exciting and a novelty, but Twin Atlantic are used to the ending the band would have preferred, but the fans get stepping up a level when the situation requires it. Formed a kick out of seeing their heroes standing up to security. in March 2007, the band quickly became favourites on the The vibe afterwards is edgy. Different members are selfGlasgow live music scene and released a debut single by critical to extremes. But it’s a debate that five ‘Ts’ out of five Christmas that year. Tour support slots followed with the in a national tabloid the next day does a lot to calm down. Subways and Biffy Clyro, On the Monday evening, resulting in the band being back in Glasgow, the band Vivid Vivarium hand-picked by Smashing huddle in a booth at local f]LJglebifZbn`k_X[`jk`eZkcp Pumpkins to support them at musicians’ Mecca Nicensleazy. JZfkk`j_kfe\%K_fj\kn`e`[\ek`k`\j Glasgow SECC. In February Members of fellow Glasgow Zfcc`[`e^fm\ik_\fZ\XekfZi\Xk\ 2009, the band signed to Red band Frightened Rabbit stop XY`^jgcXj_%Jfpfl^\kk_\ gifglcj`m\]fiZ\f]8kK_\;i`m\$ Bull Records and headed to over and catch up on the `eXkk_\`igfgg`\jkfejfe^jc`b\ LA to record their debut miniweekend. It’s a communal fg\e\iC`^_kjg\\[#YfleZ`e^f]] album, Vivarium, available to vibe that’s seen McTrusty JZfkcXe[Ëjdfi\`ekifjg\Zk`m\ download from September 14. sportingly play an acoustic d`j\iXYc`jkjc`b\;\c^X[fjfik_\ Sam explains the title refers spot earlier for some Twin Kn`c`^_kJX[fejfe^jjlZ_Xj to an artificially created yet Atlantic fans attending the 8jbKn`e8kcXek`Zn_Xkk_XkeXd\ :Xi`YY\XeNXiJpe[ifd\%9lk f]k_\`ijXZklXccpd\XejXe[pflËcc k_XkËjefkkf`dgcpk_\YXe[[feËk natural environment, like venue’s open-mic night. But ^\kXj_il^#dXpY\Xj`^_#]fccfn\[ ]`idcp_Xm\\p\jfek_\dX`ejki\Xd a fish tank or greenhouse. Saturday’s performance is YpXgi\kkpZfeZclj`m\È[leef gi`q\%K_\i\Ëj\efl^_\efidflj “We just thought it was still a topic of debate. i\XccpÉ%EXd`e^pfliYXe[`jfe\ _ffbj_\i\kf_Xm\gf^f`e^ a really cool word, but it also “Can I be brutally honest? f]k_\Xcc$k`d\kfgZfele[ildj (*$p\Xi$fc[jjl`e^]fiIJ@Ypk_\ had some meaning to us as I thought it went terribly. It’s Xe[k_\^lpjaljkn\ekn`k_ k`d\XcYldknfZfd\jXifle[%Pfl a band because we’ve sort the worst gig we’ve ever knfnfi[jk_\pZflc[c`m\n`k_ ZXecffb[\\g`ekfk_\M`mXi`ldfi i\g\Xk`e^[Xp`e[Xpflk%9lk aljkYfleZ\Xcfe^kfk_\]ifekf] of built that environment played,” laughs Kneale. k_\[\Ylki\Zfi[jl^^\jkjXjlY$ k_\Zifn[#j_flk`e^Xcfe^n`k_k_\ ourselves in the sanctuary of “See, I thought it was ZfejZ`fljcf^`ZdXp_Xm\Y\\e dXjj\j%8jbk_\dn_Xk`kd\Xej the music. The artwork shows the best show we’ve ever Xknfibk_\i\%M`mXi`lddXii`\j Xe[pflËccgifYXYcp^\kXjn\Xkp a vivarium smashed to bits, as played,” says McTrusty. Xcck_\dfjkgfglcXi\c\d\ekj Xe[[\c`^_k\[È[leefi\Xccp%É the record is meant to be kind McKenna compares their of a fresh start for us. We’ve disagreements to T in the been trying to move away from songs about girlfriends or whatever Park headliners Blur. “Blur stopped being a band for nine years and writing more tunes that have a story or a universal theme.” because they hated each other’s guts to the point of where they A look down the album’s tracklisting reveals some heavy failed at being a band. That’s not what we’re about. It’s not what topics and even stranger titles. Human After All is a rant at being in any band is about. You’ve just got to pick each other up.” the degradation of women, while You’re Turning Into John After last orders, the guys once again don hoods and leathers Wayne tackles the Americanisation of pop culture. So what’s to resume service against the Glasgow elements. Kneale is Caribbean War Syndrome all about, then? optimistic and concedes he’s always going to pick holes. “Um, well, actually a lot of our songs just grow from jokes “We might disagree, but we always look to the horizon,” into something more serious. We had a guitar rhythm that Barry he says on his way out. And then the rain came down. was struggling to remember, and I’d started randomly singing, “If M`mXi`ldn`ccY\XmX`cXYc\kf[fnecfX[]ifdJ\gk\dY\i(+%>fkfnnn% kn`eXkcXek`Z%Zfd%=fidfi\XYflkI\[9lccJkl[`fm`j`knnn%i\[Ylccjkl[`f%Zfd you like the Caribbean”, which fitted with the rhythm, to remind

Making Music

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ACTION

MR BIG Not much fazes Welsh rugby’s wünderkind, Jamie Roberts, be it ferocious South African back divisions or fierce medical exams. Nothing, however, could have prepared him to eat raw testicle… Words: Anthony Rowlinson Photography: David Clerihew

There’s something big in the basement; something that fills a room with its presence, takes light from the windows and makes you wonder why everything else in the vicinity suddenly looks a bit puny. That something – correction, someone – is Jamie Roberts, a thumping great lump of a man, who, although being only 22 and in only his third pro rugby season, returned from the British and Irish Lions’ summer tour to South Africa as ‘man of the series’. He has arrived at the The Red Bulletin’s London offices for the interview you’re reading here, and, despite his modest years and equally modest manner, his star quality is immediately apparent. Tanned and in something like top shape, having recently jetted home from as hard a tour as he’s ever likely to encounter (scarcely healed nicks and cuts across his face speak eloquently of the Springboks’ brutal ‘welcome to South Africa’), he radiates the kind of easy-smiling, charismatic confidence gifted only to those who have absolutely nothing to prove. Since his international debut for Wales against Scotland in 2008, Roberts has bludgeoned his way into his national squad’s first 15, making such an impact – in every way – he has instantly become a marked man. England paid him the ultimate compliment earlier this year by briefing flanker Joe Worsley to do nothing but attempt to tackle Roberts to a standstill. That game, let it be noted, was only Jamie’s third Six Nations start. So, he’s big – 6ft 4in (193cm) and 16st 10lb (106kg) to be precise – and a hard-hitting midfield runner with the rare knack of making 70,000 people simultaneously go, ‘Oooh’, whenever he blasts into an opponent, either in attack or defence. Should you ever wish to understand the meaning of the rugby vernacular ‘making the hard yards’, spend 10 minutes watching young Roberts in a close-quarter exchange and you’ll never need ask again. But imposing as he is, Jamie’s no thug. Indeed, he’s very far from it: he’s about to start his fourth year at medical school in his home town of Cardiff, 46

studying part-time around his rugby commitments. He’s also quietly spoken – with a marked South Wales rasp – and has a disarmingly soft handshake (no cheap-machismo bone-crunchers here). All in all, he’s an intriguing character: a brightas-paint rugby prodigy, whose passing skills are as delicate as his running lines are direct. A worthy subject, then, for a Red Bulletin grilling. You’ve had quite a year, from breaking into the Wales squad, to Lions man of the series. Yeah, it’s been meteoric and pretty crazy, really. As a young player you just hope to establish yourself for a club and take it from there. But all this has come so soon. It’s nuts to think there are guys in their late 20s and 30s who are reaching the pinnacle of their career, which is the Lions Test shirt, and I had it at 22. It brings a huge responsibility, but you take it in your stride, and prepare to be a marked man! A bit of a change from being a secret weapon for Wales and Cardiff last year? Definitely. I’ll see how I cope with that, but I’m sure there will be a few tricks up my sleeve. We’ll see… What was the season’s highlight: winning the EDF Cup, top games for Wales, or the Lions? Beating [Heineken Cup tournament favourites] Toulouse in the quarter-finals was pretty special. And winning the EDF at Twickenham with 50-odd points was great, too. But it was tough, as well. We lost the Heineken semis with a heartbreaking kick [Cardiff lost to Leicester on penalties with the sides drawn at 26-26 after extra time], then we gave Ireland the Six Nations Grand Slam the same way [courtesy of a Ronan O’Gara drop goal, with the score at 15-14 to Wales], and lost the second Lions test with a last-minute penalty [from Morne Steyn, with the score at 25-25]. But that’s how close the big games are now. It’s all about the inches. Can you describe the thrill of pulling on a Lions jersey for the first time? You never forget it. I was picked for the first match,


“PLAYING FOR THE LIONS IS AN HONOUR AND A PRIVILEGE”


ACTION

In one word please describe: Warren Gatland (coach of Wales and the British and Irish Lions)

Crafty. Shaun Edwards (assistant to Gatland)

Crazy. Gavin Henson (troubled ex-poster boy of Welsh rugby)

Tanned. Jonny Wilkinson (England outside half)

Skilled. Bakkies Botha (South Africa second-row)

Beast. Brian O’Driscoll (Ireland and Lions centre)

Legend.

against the Royal 15, and I remember the plaque in the changing room, listing Lions who’d played in my position before – Jeremy Guscott, Will Greenwood – real legends. And that’s when it hit home how big it is, and how much of an honour and a privilege it is. The first match was strange because the crowd was tiny, so there was no atmosphere, which was odd after the intensity of the dressing room. It was different for the first Test, though. I ran on with a huge grin on my face. It was pretty crazy. As first-choice inside centre for the Lions, does that make you the best in that position? No. You need luck to get on tour in the first place, and then there’s form. For example, Riki Flutey was injured early on and maybe didn’t get as good a chance as he wanted. The big stars make their name by taking a chance when they get it. Hopefully I’m one step closer to that. Are you and [first-choice Lions centre partner] Brian O’Driscoll best buddies now? [Laughs] I must say he’s a top bloke – a real gent. He’s great to play alongside, and I was outside Stephen Jones as well, who’s hugely experienced. To be sandwiched between those two was pretty special. Brian’s telepathic. One of the best ever. So will you smash him when Wales play Ireland? Oh, yes. That’s one of the beauties of the Lions tour. Everyone looks forward to the Six Nations following it, and playing against guys you made good friends with. It will add a bit of spice to each match. What was your most memorable tour moment? [Roberts grimaces, for reasons which soon become apparent.] Well… we were invited to go shooting on a farm owned by Ollie Le Roux, who used to be a South Africa prop. It’s a tradition that, after your first springbok kill, you have to cut its throat and rub warm blood on your face. Then, if it’s male, you eat a testicle, and if it’s female, you take a chunk of its liver. Unfortunately, I shot a male and… well… [Roberts is turning pale] it was the most disgusting thing I have ever done. I ate raw testicle. It was

What’s the most valuable rugby lesson you’ve learned? Just to have a laugh playing the game. You only get 10 years at the top if you’re lucky, so you’d best make the most of it. 48

beyond a joke. There was so much peer pressure I couldn’t say no, out of respect for the guys who took us shooting. But it was disgusting. I was almost sick as I was eating it. Really pretty horrific. How did it taste? The testicle was crunchy, a bit like calamari… and warm. It must have been funny for everyone else. What about a rugby moment? Doing a lap after the final Test win, even though I didn’t play in it. That was pretty special, seeing all the fans. The third Test really felt like a home game. Congratulating the boys who had won the match really brought a tear to my eye. The Lions needed that one. It had been eight years since the last win. Who was the biggest tour joker? Besides myself?! Well, put it this way… there’s another version of the famous Living With Lions DVD being put out from this tour, and I think it will all be about Andy Powell, who plays number eight for Wales. He’s ridiculously stupid and everybody loves him to bits for his comedy value. “What did you think of South Africa’s third-Test protest in support of Bakkies Botha [Botha was banned after the second Test; his team-mates wore defiant ‘Justice 4 Bakkies’ armbands]? It was funny. We thought about playing the second half with headbands saying: “R U having a laugh?” What was the dressing-room atmosphere like after the series-losing second Test? I’ve never experienced anything like it. For 20 minutes, there was complete silence. Players were just sitting there, speechless. To come out on the losing side after playing all the rugby and with four of us going to hospital… that was tough. Brian O’Driscoll had knocked himself senseless, Gethin Jenkins had a fractured cheekbone… That was quite funny in hospital, actually. I saw Gethin on a bed, about to have an operation on his face, and he called me over. “Smell the doctor’s breath,” he said. I didn’t know what he meant, and he said again: “Just smell his breath.” So I did, and the guy reeked of alcohol. He’d obviously been on call for the match, but had been at home on an absolute bender. At that point, our team doctor stepped in and got the op put on hold. Poor old Geth had to wait another four hours. Do you get mobbed in Cardiff these days? I haven’t spent much time back in Cardiff since the Lions tour, but I got more recognition after the Six Nations. It was pretty manic, but not embarrassing. I don’t mind chatting to fans. It comes with the job. Do you speak Welsh? Yes, I’m fluent. Go on then… Rwy’n caru Red Bull. [‘I love Red Bull,’ he chortles and takes a glug.] So the national anthem – Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau [Land of My Fathers] – means something to you? Of course. I was brought up as a Welsh-speaker! What goes through your mind when you sing the national anthem in the Millennium Stadium? It’s very emotional. You look up at the stands and it’s like nothing you can compare to in life, but it’s what makes playing for Wales so special. Whether you have 10 caps or 100, it’s always the same.


“MY MOST MEMORABLE RUGBY MOMENT WAS DOING A LAP AFTER THE FINAL TEST WIN – EVEN THOUGH I DIDN’T PLAY IN IT”


“I SWEAR QUITE A LOT. NOT REALLY OFF IT, BUT ON THE PITCH”


ACTION

Would you ever grow a beard? No, I don’t think so. I’ve got quite a big jaw, so, if I grew a beard, it would look even bigger. It’s Desperate Dan, mate. I’ve been called that numerous times.

…and what about? Schalk Berger (Springbok cited for eye-gouging after second Lions Test)

Gouger. Scott Gibbs (former Wales centre)

Wrecking ball. Jonah Lomu (All Black icon)

Bigger wrecking ball! Cardiff Great place. Twickenham Good memories. Murrayfield. Good memories. Stade de France. Bad memories. Croke Park. Big. Max Boyce. Legend!

Who sings it better, Charlotte Church [girlfriend of Gavin Henson] or Katherine Jenkins? Katherine… [He pauses, then bursts out laughing.] How do the old guard view today’s game? In two ways: the old players have huge respect for the modern game, but in another way, I reckon they’re quite disappointed. There’s a much bigger emphasis on strength and power, whereas in the ’70s, it was a totally different, flash style of play. Rugby quiz: how many international points did former Wales fly-half Neil Jenkins score? Oh God. One thousand and thirty-two? [Correct answer: 1090 for Wales and the Lions.] Would you change anything about rugby? It’s important that skill isn’t lost. Too much bishbash-bosh stuff would put the fans off. Do you remember being caught by Mathieu Bastareaud in the Wales-France game this year? [Roberts pauses to recollect the two-worlds-collide impact between the two centres during this year’s Six Nations encounter.] Yeah, the whistle had gone and he smashed me! [Laughs] So, God, yeah… He’s a big lump. I was disappointed by that – never really been sat down on my arse. One of the first times. I don’t want to talk about it. Nah… What’s your best gym exercise? As I’ve had a shoulder operation and my other’s on its way, shoulder stability work. It’s what I do most. And your worst? Shoulder rehab! And chin-ups… hmm… don’t like those, as my strength-to-weight ratio is quite rubbish because I’m 106kg. You see these small, powerful guys and their strength-to-weight ratio is quite awesome. Someone like Shane Williams is really frustrating: he’s strong as an ox but really light. Who’s your toughest opponent? Jean de Villiers [South Africa centre and wing]. I’ve never beaten South Africa when he’s played. He’s a tough opponent. He runs flat out, no holding back, and defensively he’s very solid. Hugely physical.

What have you got that some of the young talents you came through against didn’t have? Um… that’s a tough one. I think, a bit of intellect. Yep. Gets you a long way in rugby because it’s a thinking man’s game – top two inches. Talking of brains, you sat your A-levels on tour… Yeah, that was weird. I sat them at 6am in a hotel in Argentina during the Under-21 World Cup. Luckily, our coach was an invigilator at Cardiff University, so I was allowed to do them out there. And you did well enough to get into medical school. Do you still want to be a doctor? I’ve done three years and I’ll do the last two part-time over four years in hospital. It’s a balancing act, but another challenge. Hopefully I’ll be a qualified doc in four years’ time. It makes a change from training to put on a shirt and tie and stroll around the wards. When did you know you were good enough for first-class rugby? When I had my first Wales cap against Scotland in 2008 on the wing. I’d been playing on the wing all season for the Blues, but your first cap is a huge occasion and you realise you’re there for a reason. I spent the first half running round like an idiot, then eventually realised I was good enough. That’s the key, and that’s what experience is all about. Who were your role models? Jonah Lomu. He was a big man. And Percy Montgomery, who was a Springbok, but who also played for Newport – even though he once punched the ref. [He actually shoved a touch judge, earning a six-month ban.] Scott Gibbs, too. Have you ever been scared on a rugby pitch? Yes. When we played Australia last autumn, I had a big clash of heads with Stirling Mortlock. That was pretty scary: I thought I might never play again. It was a pretty big injury: I fractured my skull. Do you think more about injuries because of your medical training? Yeah, most definitely. I’m always interested in the other boys’ injuries. The doctors and physios can’t short-change me. I want the full explanation. How many of your five-a-day do you get? I eat a lot of fruit and veg. Diet is a huge part of the game now. I usually get my five-a-day, mate. Do you swear much on the pitch? Yes! [Enthusiastically embraces the idea.] I swear quite a lot. Not really off it, but on the pitch, in the heat of battle, I get wound up and use words you wouldn’t hear me say off the pitch. What’s the worst pair of shoes you’ve ever had? For my 14th birthday, my mum bought me a pair of the most rubbish trainers. I almost cried… They were shit, absolute crap. Yellow and white – disgusting. I wore them once, on holiday, and that was it. Which Star Wars character would you be? God. Yoda… so wise. The Master. Small but powerful… that doesn’t really describe you, does it? No [laughs]. Not really. I\X[n_Xk_Xgg\e\[n_\eI\[9lccI\gfik\iAXd\j9Xjj d\kAXd`\IfY\ikjXknnn%i\[Ylcci\gfik\i%Zfd&)''0&'.& aXd`\$ifY\ikj$\oZclj`m\&#gclj]`e[flk_fnpflkffZflc[ Y\Zfd\XI\[9lccI\gfik\i

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ACTION

B M X BANZAI

Tokyo, neon-scorched techno-metropolis, showcases Japan at its Samurai-sharpest. Who better to give us the insider tour than Ryoji ‘Yanmar’ Yamamoto and Yohei ‘Ucchie’ Uchino, two of the country’s top BMX riders? Photography: Richie Hopson

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MARKET RESEARCH

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WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS

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ACTION

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ACTION

EUROPEâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S TOUGHEST RACE Beautiful, solitary, uniquely demanding, Red Bull X-Alps is an adventure competition like no other Words: Christian Seiler

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THE ARRIVAL A strange noise rings out over Monaco’s harbour as a white speck appears on the rocky outline of Mont Gros. Da-ring, daring, da-da-ring. Sunbathers spending a perfect sunny day lazing on the sand beneath the Principality cast an irritated look over the top of oh-so-chic designer shades. They see three men in shorts who have taken up position on the quay wall and are watching the white speck from Mont Gros – how it takes shape and becomes a person hanging onto a white wing. Daring, da-da-ring. The men are brandishing shiny cowbells as big as fridges and they laugh and jump for joy as well as any man with a fridge round his neck can. Because their man, Swiss paragliding champion Christian Maurer, nicknamed Chrigel, is about to land on the blue float in the dock and win the fourth leg of Red Bull X-Alps, the world’s toughest adventure race. But they’re wrong on two counts: (1) the white speck isn’t Chrigel Maurer, it’s Thomas Theurillat, Chrigel’s supporter; and (2) Chrigel Maurer, the second speck coming round Mont Gros, actually misses the target and ends up in the bright blue waters of the Côte d’Azur, so it’s not just fans who dash out to greet him, but lifeguards too. But then he gets onto the float,

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hugs his equally sodden supporter, Thomas, and beams. What a winning margin. What a race. What a winner.

THE RACE Chrigel Maurer had won a race that couldn’t be more exclusive. The course goes from downtown Salzburg to Monaco – 818km as the crow flies – with seven turning points to pass through: from Gaisberg to Mont Gros, which towers over Monaco. The 30 participants, chosen by the organisers – Red Bull Air Race pilot Hannes Arch and world paragliding champion Steve Cox – from an enormous number of applications, had only two means of conveyance at their disposal: by paraglider, which, the rules stated, they must always have with them, or on foot. Maurer dealt with the difficulties – inhospitable terrain, huge changes in altitude, inclement weather, tricky orientation – with clockwork precision. He combined his special flying skills with elaborate preparation to beat the man in second place, fellow Swiss Alex Hofer, who had already won Red Bull X-Alps twice, by no less than a day and a half.

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“If you want to be quick, you must make detours”

It’s not enough to be fit, rugged or determined to master the Red Bull X-Alps adventure. The challenge requires a special mixture of physical and mental conditioning. If you want to get from Salzburg to Monaco quickly, you’ve got to have the intuition, among other skills, of knowing when to wait for the weather: the next morning’s wind might take you further than you could run all night. The need for calm decision-making and cool creativity finds both young-blooded, vigorous athletes and leather-skinned men in their prime in the starting line-up. The oldest man in the field was Japan’s Kaoru Ogisawa, 49, known to his friends as Ogi, who finished the race in 13th place, some 297km from the finish line (the race ending 48 hours after the victor’s arrival in Monaco). Chrigel Maurer, 26, combined the energy of youth with the serenity of the experienced flyer. He covered 72 per cent of the distance in the air.

start to finish, explored scenarios and carried out meticulous preparations, in order that their calm, advanced decisionmaking would withstand the duress of extreme race conditions: stress, exhaustion and inclement weather. They ran tests for a week and drew up a psychological road map: The Story of the Ideal Race. It didn’t focus on the course stages, but on six ‘chapters’ that Theurillat’s psychological expertise had defined. The first was to get started and into a rhythm – Zell am See – the Italian border – Bolzano – Domodossola – Chamonix – southwards. Theurillat explains: “It was our own movie. We were able to tick off every target – not just once, but six times.” Maurer, the 2004 European champion and 2007 Paragliding World Cup winner, knew that his strengths meant he could allow himself to spend as much of the course as possible in the air. He also knew that running through the night wasn’t his cup of tea. A fundamental strategy was easy, therefore, to establish, but just how elaborate the psychological support had become came to light when Maurer made one of his rare mistakes and got lost. Theurillat’s advice was almost Buddhist, along the lines of: “If you want to be quick, you must make detours.” He explains: “It’s important to reinforce motivation by setting reachable targets, especially in crisis situations. So I set the day’s target as sitting drinking beer by 10pm. We were twice as quick the next day.”

THE STRATEGY

HANNES ARCH

Chrigel Maurer started specific fitness training seven months before the race. He tested foods at the same time. What was the right time to eat? What should he eat? And how much? Which power bar is easy to eat when you’re exhausted? What’s the best thing to eat in the air? Which isotonic drinks calm the stomach and which ones add to its acidity? He reappraised every aspect of his equipment. Which clothing was best for hiking? Which for flying? How does the weight factor relate to the efficiency factor? Maurer, a test pilot for paraglider manufacturers Advance, put his most important piece of equipment, the wing itself, through the same scrutiny. He had three prototypes developed, but only the fourth was good enough to meet the demands of the Red Bull X-Alps adventure, with its special radius and efficient performance at the lowest possible weight. He’d have to carry his wing with him at all times, after all. Apart, that is, from when it was carrying him. Maurer met Thomas Theurillat, a flying-obsessed mountain guide and sports psychologist, at Switzerland’s Mürren airfield, in the shadow of the Eiger. Chrigel quickly won Thomas’ support, as both were motivated by the prospect of a joint adventure requiring preparation of unprecedented thoroughness. Together, they thought the race through from

Hannes Arch is standing in the Red Bull X-Alps press centre’s temporary home in the shade of the dining area of beach club Le Note Bleu, and shaking his head. The former BASE-jumper, test-pilot and current Red Bull Air Race World Champion, who has played an important role in organising the race since the outset, is wearing camouflage shorts and flip-flops, and making one phone call after another. Reports from the course, press enquiries, co-ordinating briefly with the other organisers.

PHOTOGRAPHY: (PREVIOUS PAGE) OLIVIER LAUGERO/RED BULL PHOTFILES, (THIS PAGE) FELIX WOELK/RED BULL PHOTOFILES (1), DEAN TREML/RED BULL PHOTOFILES (2), BERNHARD SPÖTTEL/RED BULL PHOTOFILES (1). ILLUSTRATION: SASCHA BIERL

THE PARTICIPANTS

“Happy with how the race went?” “Extremely happy.” “What do you like most about the winners?” “That they’re not just quick, they’re smart, too. The Swiss team has taken this race to a new level.” “What’s been the main change since the race first began?” “That we’ve managed to bring a sport that used to be reserved for the few, into the mainstream, thanks to modern technology and professional communications. You only have to look at how many people followed the live tracking on the internet this year to see that.” “What makes this race’s participants stand out?” “They’re the best. After all, we did choose the 30 athletes with 65


“The sportsmen tackle the ascent and calmly open their wings”

the best abilities out of a huge number of applications. They’re in it body and soul. Truly passionate sport stars.” “You’ve been an extreme-sports star for years yourself. What impresses you about these athletes?” “Their spirit. They’re in a positive frame of mind even when they’re doing something incredibly strenuous and dangerous.” “How big are the risks?” “Big. Any day will see at least five critical situations.” “When can you relax?” “When the race is over and the final participant is on the ground.”

SOLITUDE The sky over Salzburg’s Mozartplatz is grey. Music pours out of the escort vehicles’ speakers as the 30 participants set off. There’s already a carnival atmosphere by the time they reach the first turning point on the Gaisberg an hour later. Fans and onlookers have made their way to Salzburg’s landmark mountain by bus to see the participants on their first flight south. It’s raining. Helicopters circle overhead. The tourists get their cameras out as the sportsmen tackle the ascent in their identikit turquoise shirts. They calmly open their wings. There’s the in-run, waving, a joke or two. Then the wind directs them southwards, towards their goal. But it isn’t where the next turning point is. The Watzmann is to the west of Salzburg, which from above looks like a dollhouse town with a fortress growing out of the middle of it like an optical illusion. The first flight is short and some of the participants are soon back on the road in a small throng. There’s banter, but everyone knows the real challenges are yet to begin. By the time the next ascent comes round on a favourable wind, the better flyers separate from the better runners and the different strategies that will accompany the sportsmen on their way become clear. This is where they will spend the days ahead until the finish line looms into view. Alone. In intense dialogue with their own fears and weaknesses. Ahead lie experiences that will be frustrating and arduous, but incredibly beautiful. Chrigel Maurer remembers a moment in the Swiss Alps, when the sun was setting behind the clouds and a perfect peace reigned over the landscape, that he forgot about the race and just stayed put, until half an hour later he remembered there was no time to spare. 66

THE KIT Race rules state that participants must always carry their equipment with them. An efficient wing becomes dead weight upon landing, so must be as light as possible. After numerous development cycles by the manufacturer, the winner’s wing weighed no more than 4kg and the pod harness with speed-bag and a simple protector, just 2kg. On top of that, there’s clothing, GPS, a mobile, detailed terrain maps, accessories such as sunglasses, sun cream and a pocket torch, and the most essential foods. The supporter, the second man in the team, is responsible for keeping the participant supplied at the start and end of the day, and for looking after him mentally and physically.

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PHOTOGRAPHY: VITEK LUDVIK /RED BULL PHOTOFILES (3), OLIVIER LAUGERO/RED BULL PHOTFILES (1), DEAN TREML/RED BULL PHOTOFILES (1)

THE WINNER

THE SUPPORTERS They drive the camper vans as the shattered sportsmen get a couple of hours’ sleep before the crack-of-dawn alarm call (as long as the participants find the camper vans or the camper vans can get to where the participants want to spend the night). They cook spaghetti over an open flame so their partner gets some warm food inside him; they tend to the blisters on his feet; they wash his sweat-soaked clothes and make sure there are dry clothes waiting for him the next morning; and get the coffee ready on time. They are drivers, cooks, pastors, shrinks and whipping boys. German participant Michael Gebert, for instance, explains how, “...when I’m overwrought I can get weirdly worked up about the fact that the van isn’t waiting where we arranged for it to be waiting, just 100m away. I can go berserk.” Thomas Theurillat worked out how to get rid of Chrigel Maurer’s negative energy by drawing a pretty picture of the perfect race: a wooden tub made of 14, 15 planks – equipment, strategy, communication, etc. According to Theurillat, the tub’s content would be determined by the shortest of them. He focused on how to act when stressed and tired, and how to manage aggression. In the van there was a checklist of what had to be done every evening (“Are all appliances charging?”), and what mustn’t be forgotten in the morning rush (“maps? cagoule?”), so snafus just didn’t happen.

Chrigel Maurer is sitting barefoot in a chair while Monegasque waiters clatter around behind him. He shows off his feet. “No blisters,” he says with some satisfaction. That’s no mean feat after 380km by foot in nine days – a marathon-equalling 42km a day. But he never went too far, following his supporter’s advice of stopping before he got too tired in order to recover quickly. He was in the lead early on, and that sense of being up-front motivated him to try daring moves such as his start at the Weisstor Pass, the Matterhorn already in view. Thomas Theurillat dragged a rope along behind him, which Chrigel Maurer hung onto like a dragon. Then he climbed, lifted off and flew. Up and away. Towards the south. His face is looking weather-beaten and his eyes are deepset. But the effects of the last nine days aren’t what dominate the victor’s face. That’s his smile, which isn’t yet completely relaxed, but will be tomorrow morning once he’s had a good night’s sleep. Chrigel orders pasta – what else? He looks out over the blue sea, gently shakes his head and says, “Such a shame it was all over so quickly.” =`e[flkdfi\XYflkk_\k_i`cc`e^XZk`fefek_\g\XbjXknnn%i\[YlccoXcgj%Zfd :_i`^\c`ji\X[pkf Z\c\YiXk\`eDfeXZf X]k\i_`jn`e

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EYE OF THE STORM

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Superstardom has its price â&#x20AC;&#x201C; just ask Sebastian Vettel, a 22-year-old so in demand he scarcely has time to breathe. This is his Hungarian GP weekend Words: Anthony Rowlinson Photography: Thomas Butler


H e’s in there somewhere. That much we know. Behind a phalanx of cameramen, each attached umbilically to a pseudoceleb presenter, Sebastian Vettel is holding court, fielding questions (so many questions) about tyres, fuel levels, track temperatures, the drivers’ world championship, this, that, the other. It’s the kind of media moment about which 21st-century Earth dwellers have become blasé through familiarity, but still the intensity of the spotlight on certain individuals retains the power to dazzle. Vettel, the winner of three Formula One Grands Prix, as he speaks at 16.08 on the opening Thursday afternoon of the 2009 Hungarian GP weekend, is a choice morsel for an entertainment-hungry world. So much so that to those at the rear of this scrum, he has become invisible. He literally cannot be seen by anyone more than 5ft away. “Is he in there?” asks a bemused, onlooking Giorgio Ascanelli, Vettel’s former engineering boss at Italian team Scuderia Toro Rosso. He shakes his head, smiles. “He really has become a superstar. Good luck to him. He’s a great driver and a good human being.” But such is the demand for this young man’s thoughts, opinions and remarkably easy humour, he’s at risk of being devoured by that which most desires him. His gift, dare it be suggested, is also his curse. So young (22) and so talented (the youngest ever winner of a Formula One Grand Prix – the 2008 Italian edition – aged 21 years and 74 days) he is also possessed of a native wit that makes him camera candy. Faced by a hundred lenses and – count ’em – an equal number of microphones, and in cruel afternoon heat of more than 40ºC, he nevertheless remains calm, gracious and almost sweat-free. The faintest trace of moisture beads beneath his cap peak are the only hint 70

that, yes, right now, Sebastian Vettel is earning his money. “Sebastian, Sebastian. Over here, Sebastian…” Reality check: less than 12 hours earlier, Swiss-domiciled Seb had smacked his 5am-chirping alarm, rolled to the shower, then clothes, juice and out to the waiting car that would swoosh him the 50-minute ride to Zurich airport. These were his last moments of peace until late Sunday evening. It’s 07.09 when he arrives at the airport’s General Aviation Centre. No entourage, but he is accompanied by his trainer, Tommi Parmakoski, who helps Seb with his bags, but who’s by no means his ‘bag man’. Vettel has a pre-arranged filming slot for The Red Bulletin and trots into our makeshift studio looking fresh as a pill from a blister pack. In a trainersshorts-T-shirt-cap combo that’s more ‘hanger-on’ than ‘hero’, it’s hard to equate this slight, bright figure with the track tiger who’s fighting for the F1 World Championship. There’s no trace of grand superstar swagger – yet – but there is intensity. We have him for 45 minutes and he wants to go, now. “Where do I sit?” “Here. Anything to drink?” “No, we can just do it.” Like any racing driver, he’s in a hurry, but unlike most, he’s smart and unjaded enough still to be engaged with what’s before him. This time he has a 20-word script to learn, in German and English, before it can be read to camera. He does so – fast – and we’re able to wrap up our slot 10 minutes ahead of time. And so, with minimum fuss and maximum effectiveness, he’s gone. In his wake, he leaves the impression of a young man still as humorous as when he turned up in the F1 paddock three years ago, but who’s not really boyish anymore. There’s a warrior edge now; this is an ambitious sportsman who


IT’S HARD TO EQUATE THIS SLIGHT, BRIGHT FIGURE WITH THE TRACK TIGER

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“SEB LIKES THE ENVIRONMENT OF THE CIRCUIT. NOT MANY OF THEM WANT TO STAY UNTIL 11PM” 72


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understands his mission and who wants nothing to break his stride. Our Zurich snapshot is a hint of what’s to come.

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e next see Seb around seven hours later. During this time, he, and we, have flown to Budapest’s Ferihegy airport, hired cars (or in Seb’s case, been picked up by a Red Bull Racing driver) and found our way across melting motorway tarmac to the Hungaroring race circuit. It’s 40km from town, and the neighbouring waterslide aquapark sits in cool, blue view of the track, taunting all those who toil under the furious sun. For most of the past three hours, Vettel has been getting maximum ‘brain time’ with his engineers and team management, Jonathan Wheatley and Christian Horner. At 11.30 he walked the track with trainer Tommi, his race engineer, Guillaume Rocquelin (‘Rocky’), and a technician from engine supplier Renault, before heading into a detailed debrief session. This is the ‘real stuff’ – the talk of engine mapping, throttle settings, flap angles, balance, grip and speed – that hones a mechanical device built from carbon and exotic metals into a race-winning car. Some drivers – greats such as Michael Schumacher and Ayrton Senna – love this time, as does Seb. Others, even recent world champions, see their job as simply to drive the hell out of the car without so much as a nod or shake of the head to indicate its effectiveness. Wheatley, team manager of Red Bull Racing, spotted early Vettel’s affinity for technical natter, and, 10 races since Seb’s first for RBR, he’s still amazed by this near-addiction: “He likes the environment at the circuit and I’m not used to seeing that in a driver. Not many of them want to stay until 11pm. It makes him pretty challenging to work with, like all good drivers, as he won’t just accept what’s black and what’s white – he wants to know why. He’s a pro who wants to learn from his own lessons.” But there are many demands on a Formula One driver’s time and one of them – an engagement with one of RBR’s partners the Rauch drinks company – draws Vettel from the debrief. He pops out from the back of the team garage and strides 10m of concrete to the Red Bull Energy Station, the all-purpose mobile home that serves as diner, hospitality unit, media hub, management office and chill-out zone. It also has a secret top floor where partners can be entertained.

Today it’s reserved for the man from Rauch, whose products are to be endorsed by a grip ’n’ grin from Seb. Vettel’s sharp and bright, shaking hands quickly with all whose hands need shaking, but passing by The Bulletin with a grin, noting, “I did you this morning.” It’s these giveaway moments that reveal his superior mental capacity. Half an hour, then, with Rauch – a spell which prompts the inevitable: “This is why you wanted to become a Formula One driver, isn’t it, Sebastian?” He responds with a smile-cum-frown. Within moments of wrapping up, Vettel’s ever-present media hand and schedule dominatrix, Britta Roeske, has whisked him to the next engagement: the ‘face the press’ open media session mentioned earlier. If Vettel is busy, Britta’s busier. She constantly manages his time, whirling Seb between engineers, TV, sponsors, print media, fans, and sundry other commitments, such as appearances for F1’s governing body, the FIA. Last year, before Vettel’s arrival from sister team Toro Rosso, Britta’s days were, shall we say, a little less pressured. “I can’t eat anymore,” she says, on the run between Energy Station and Media Centre, breathlessly checking her BlackBerry as we scurry. “I can’t even drink anymore. If I leave the media centre with Sebastian, we’re mobbed.” This is true. Her job has become gatekeeper as much as timekeeper, and while she handles the attention with good-natured indefatigability, there’s little doubt that working with Seb is a wild ride. “The amount of media attention he gets has gone crazy this year,” she says. “We have so many interview requests we have to conduct a lot of them by email, so that I can ask Sebastian the questions and send back the replies. It’s one way of saving time.” Time: there just ain’t enough. For the rest of the day, Seb’s schedule runs something like this: 16.24, mass print media call in Red Bull Energy Station (approximately 20 journalists); 16.38, mini-media session, with three Englishspeaking journalists; 16.43, mini media session with four German-speaking journalists, during which Roeske leaves Vettel’s side for the first time that afternoon, confident that he’s ‘among friends’; 17.04, Seb takes 90 seconds to catch a glimpse of stage 18 of the Tour de France, before being handed a microphone and asked to speak (in Italian) to TV channel Mediaset, which is broadcasting live F1 coverage; 17.17, 73


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he leaves the Energy Station to walk the length of the paddock (five minutes) to the track’s main straight, where several thousand fans are awaiting the chance to have a ‘fan card’ autographed. For the first time in his recent sequence of perpetual movement, Vettel is still, as he sits on a chair alongside team-mate Mark Webber and drivers from the Force India and Williams teams, all of them behind a desk and beneath an awning. The brave sextet face a horde of humanity surely transported from the front row of a stadium gig, complete with barriers, heavies and armed police to keep order. Maybe 100 get an autographed card; thousands will leave disappointed, robbed by lack of time. By 17.38 Seb’s done, and he returns to the Energy Station, unmobbed for the first time that day (most journalists have retreated to their desks to file reports for TV bulletins or tomorrow’s papers). At 17.43 he has another interview – a one-to-one – and for the first time looks a little hot and bothered, and actually has to lift his cap to wipe his brow. He isn’t finished, though, no way. Next up is a massage and download with Tommi before dinner at the track, sharing food, time and information with his engineers. By now it’s around 7pm, paddock witching hour, when most journalists, photographers, senior team personnel, drivers and sundry entourages have left for a flagon of wine and a gossip. Mr Vettel, however, stays on and doesn’t, in fact, return to his hotel, Budapest’s elegant waterfront Four Seasons, until after 10.30pm. Note: Sebastian Vettel, Formula One driver, has yet to sit in his car.

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he ferocious hammering of an air gun is a reminder, as if it were needed, that the weekend’s first practice session is about to start. Car number 15 is up on jacks as last-second tech checks are made by meaty-forearmed mechanics. Its driver, S Vettel, is becalmed, strapped into its carbon-fibre cockpit. “It’s his office – he knows where everything is and it’s just as he wants it. Like your desk or mine,” says Jonathan Wheatley. “It’s why he’s so calm in there. This is what he does.” Some office: it’ll do more than 200mph, corner and brake at more than 4G, and it’ll self-ignite if left stationary for too long. Frantic, even violent, though a ‘live’ F1 car may seem to an outsider, it is tended by perfectly 74

“ HOW SEB’S SO FOCUSED WITH ALL THE ATTENTION HE GETS IS NOTHING SHORT OF INCREDIBLE”


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choreographed garage crews and driven with the deft but brutal hand of an expert whose skills are beyond ordinary comprehension. For the 20 or so elite individuals deemed fit for the task each year, piloting a Formula One car at ludicrous speeds is a day job – a uniquely demanding one, of course – but a day job nonetheless. It’s outside the cockpit that things get complicated. “He’s very calm during races,” says Wheatley. “He doesn’t say too much to us over the radio unless something goes wrong. He’s very focused and very mature. He has the qualities and motivating ability that you need to be a world champion. He brings people up.” Over four, timed, on-track sessions across Friday and Saturday, Vettel and his crew are in constant dialogue, constant motion, in and out of the car. A machine that on Friday is unbalanced and not able to fulfil its ultimate performance potential has become, by the end of Saturday’s qualifying session to determine race-start positions, second fastest. “It was clear that we had very, very good grip on Friday, but we couldn’t find the balance,” says Wheatley. “As a driver, he focused on that with the engineers very hard overnight, and by Saturday he had a car that was on fuel-corrected pole position. How he manages that with the amount of media attention he gets is nothing short of incredible. But he’s here to race. He does the other stuff, but he tolerates it. He puts on his grin and gets on with it.” Grinning… Winning. Come Sunday morning, after another late night at the track, live media chats for German TV station RTL, FIA media time, hours more debriefing, there’s only one thing left to do: win. On paper, Vettel’s RB5 is the car to have. It’s second on the grid with a heavy fuel load, meaning that by one-third distance it should, if all goes to plan, be in the lead. No more smiles now, it’s visor-down time. But… An imperfect getaway slows Seb on the run to the first corner; he is clipped by eventual second-place man, Kimi Räikkönen of Ferrari. The RB5’s delicately perfected handling balance has been destroyed and Seb cannot match the front-running pace. On lap 27, car 15 returns to the Red Bull Racing garage for a safety check. It has been handling so badly – dragging its belly on the track surface and wanting to turn only left – that Vettel is convinced something is broken. The inspection says no and he’s sent out again, with new tyres, more fuel and a new front wing.

But three laps later it’s over; Seb’s car is skewered and unraceable. For the first time since his 5am Thursday alarm call, Sebastian Vettel has been forced to take a backward step. Shoulders slumped in the cockpit, this fierce-burning individual has been briefly doused by circumstance. The incalculable amount of personal and team energy that has gone into making him a potential race winner has been sapped, if only briefly. After a minute, maybe two, Vettel pops his belts, wriggles, stands up in the cockpit and steps out to the left (one of his quirks – he never enters or leaves from the right). He unclips his helmet, grabs his fireproof balaclava at the top of his head, tears it off, and – there – he shows what all this sound and fury means. Seb’s face is crimson and wet with effort. The seams of the padding inside his helmet have pressed deep creases into his cotton-soft face. His short hair is sodden; his eyes burning; his breath hard; and the back of his neck steaming. Formula One drivers, so hidden from view, fight as hard as any bare-knuckle boxer. His race weekend is almost over and unsatisfactorily so. He has slipped to third place in the drivers’ championship, and behind Webber, for the first time since April. Still, he must face the voracious media corps camped just the other side of the garage exit, awaiting an explanation of the obvious. It’s a brutal, draining coda for a guy who’s already been kicked, but he faces the demands with equanimity. “He won’t be down for long,” notes team principal Christian Horner. “Sebastian is a very resilient individual. I’m sure he’ll take this disappointment and come back even more strongly motivated for the next race.”

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here’s time, of course, for another debrief, one more motorhome meal, a shower, a massage and a cool down. By 18.10 Sebastian is finally ready to leave the track. Backpack slung low over his shoulders, fingers tapping furiously into his iPhone as he walks to the team car that will take him and family (carpenter father Norbert and younger brother Fabian) to the airport, Seb is once again the uncomplicated youngster who just happens to be one of the fastest, most in-demand racing drivers on the planet. Belted in to the front seat of an Audi Q7, he could be your kid brother. =fccfnM\kk\cËjj\XjfeXknnn%i\[YlcciXZ`e^%Zfd

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More Body & Mind Taking you on a cultural world tour.…

78 HANGAR-7 INTERVIEW 80 TRAVEL 84 LISTINGS 88 NIGHTLIFE 94 BULL’S EYE 96 SHORT STORY 98 MIND’S EYE 77

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The Hangar-7 Interview

Shaggy

So what brings you to Salzburg? We came from Prague. It was a great concert with maybe 5000 people. Everyone just wants to hear classics like Boombastic. Songs that people just can’t get enough of. And this is your first time here? I think so. I’ve always gone to Vienna in the past, when I’ve visited Austria. So definitely your first time in Hangar-7? It’s my first time in the hangar. Quite impressive. Let’s see how it works live. As a musician, you must be on planes all the time. Have you ever thought about getting your own pilot’s licence? It would be very cool to do that. I know John Travolta does it. But he’s got one of the big DC-10s or an incredibly huge 747 or some crap like that. But you don’t own any planes yourself? I only have passions for things that I can afford! They’re nice to look at, but it’s a bit like old cars. If you buy an old car, you’ve got to buy the mechanic too. You have to keep fixing them. I prefer newer vehicles. I have a convertible Bentley, so although I don’t collect them, it’s certainly not the worst car you could own. Every rock star seems to have had a horror story in the sky. What’s yours? I have a few actually! OK, the best one… We had to land with one engine on a flight from Australia to New Zealand. We looked out of the window and could see smoke coming from the engines. It 78

wasn’t a long trip, but it really freaks you out when you see those oxygen masks drop. You suddenly realise this is serious. You seem to be pretty much constantly on tour. What’s the thing you wouldn’t want missing in your tour bus? I’m a simple guy on the bus. As long as there’s food and a good movie I’m great. And I haven’t even watched a movie since being on the bus this time. So, what do you do? You can sit around the table in the lounge area and chill to some music and laugh. The dancehall fraternity is a very colourful one. There’s always a lot happening. You become entangled in it. It’s not just the music but the drama. Who’s battling who? Who dissed who? It becomes this thing that you buy into. Like watching a soap or something? Yeah. There’s always these trans-global conversations going on. But I listen to other styles too. I listen to everything. It depends what mood I’m in. Although reggae’s my heart and soul. Do you feel you can build that authentic Jamaican dancehall vibe when you’re not at home in the Caribbean? It’s pretty universal. Tonight this venue will be more like a pop show. But we could go to Vienna and get a hardcore dancehall crowd easily. They come out of the woodwork. I love playing in Jamaica, but I prefer to take it outside of there because everybody in Jamaica already knows Shaggy. Taking it outside – to the world – that’s incredible. Do you change the set list for each setting and crowd? If I come on to a very urban dancehall crowd, I’ll just switch it right there. I don’t even have to tell the band. When the show starts I just walk on, no rituals beforehand really. I might try to rest my vocals because they’re gold. But every band I’ve toured with, I see them go into a circle and do a nice prayer. With our band, we’re such heathens, we just take this thing for granted. I actually feel bad

PHOTOGRAPHY: REGINE HENDRICH(2), HELGE KIRCHBERGER (1)

Dancehall popstar Shaggy has been bringing Jamaican sunshine to European charts for more than 15 years. Florian Obkircher caught up with the gravel-voiced legend as the European tour rolled into Salzburg’s Hangar-7 for the night


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seeing those bands saying their prayers. Damn, we just go onstage and play… that sucks. We need to do something! You just mentioned that voice of yours. I remember hearing it for the first time on Oh Carolina in 1993 and thinking, damn, I’ve never heard a voice like that. How did you get that style? Well the vocal style is certainly unique. I can sing normally, but then you just sound like everybody else. When you sing with… [cuts into the trademark Shaggy snarl] then you get a signature. On Oh Carolina I changed the sound and it was out there. Do you have a rough idea of how often you’ve played it? Oh, thousands of times. I can’t count them. And do you still like playing it? Absolutely! It amazes me how you can sit and write a song and it affects people’s lives. People know where they were when they first heard it, and it could be 10 or 15 years ago, but they still know the line. You come up with a catchphrase like “It wasn’t me”, and somehow it becomes a part of pop culture. I must ask this. It’s too obvious not to ask. You’re known as Mr Lover Lover… what do you think of Austrian women? They’re very beautiful. This is a very beautiful country. I’ve been here so many times and it’s one of the few places in Europe that I could live. I like the mountains. I think it has it all. Ever been skiing? No. I’m black! Skiing is not for me. Will you be out in Salzburg later. Are you still a party guy? Truth be told, I just wanna sleep. I’m a big party guy, but I like doing it when I’m rested! I’ve been having a sleep problem, my eyes are burning right now. How much longer is the tour? I have 25 to 30 shows. Some days off in between? A few… very few. ?Xe^flkn`k_J_X^^pXj_\g\i]fidjc`m\ Xk?Xe^Xi$.#Xknnn%_Xe^Xi$.%Zfd&\e&jg\Z`Xcj& n\[e\j[Xp$e`^_k&j_X^^p&

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Walking in the Air Famed as the refuge of monks and 007 villains, the stunning Meteora rocks in Greece now draw ardent slackliners. Join them â&#x20AC;&#x201C; or watch from a safe distance

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Few landscapes in Greece are as dramatic as the monastery-crowned rock pillars of Meteora – home to a dwindling number of ecclesiastics but an increasing quantity of highline daredevils. These sandstone cliff faces once deterred invading Ottoman Turks, but, in a different age, were a mere walk in the park for one James Bond. Her Majesty’s favourite secret agent scaled one of Meteora’s sheer faces in For Your Eyes Only, stopping at the top to lower a massive basket to his accomplices – the same used by the real-life monks of the Agia Triada monastery from the 14th century until the 1920s. Sets of interconnected stairways have since replaced the rope baskets and ladders that hoisted the faithful up and down the cliff faces – which will come as a relief for modern-day travellers, because the monks believed it was up 81


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to the Almighty to determine when a basket was to be replaced. Namely, when the rope snapped or the basket broke. In recent years, pilgrims of a different stripe have been seeking precarious passage to and through the five monasteries and one convent that still exist atop the spectacular rocks, hewn in the Tertiary period. Theirs, however, is not a circumnavigation for the faint of heart (or, perhaps, the sound of mind). The sport of slacklining, begun by bored Californian rock climbers on days when the weather prohibited them from scaling the faces of Yosemite National Park, counts as one of the most spectacular pursuits in this vivid area in Thessaly, central Greece. On a line of slim, flexible nylon webbing (see above) strung between gaps using hoists and fixed into place with safety ties, the slackliners walk. A rope attached to the underside of the line is their only safety measure. In Meteora, this means walking across gaps from between 30 and 50m wide, on ‘highlines’ 100-250m above the ground. German Sebastian Eggler, pictured on the previous page, is making his way 82

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across a line 41m long and between 150 and 200m in the air on the highest peak. The monasteries tolerate the new vocation, and the local bishop allows slackliners to set up their lines on the rock faces, some of which reach 550m, as long as they’re out of the field of vision of the monasteries. But you can still see some slackliners, pinpricks in the sky, from the town of Kalampaka, the region’s hub, which shoulders the hospitality demands of guests, along with the nearby Kastraki. The latter serves as a popular destination for rock climbers, who can reach prime spots a few minutes’ walk from their hotel. Of the monks and nuns who populated Megalo Meteoro, Roussanou, Agios Nikolaos Anapafsas, Varlaam Monastery, Agia Triada and the Agios Stefanos convent in their hundreds of years of existence, only a handful remain. But the monasteries themselves are open to the public for a nominal entrance fee, and the network of paths and stairways makes it possible to visit all of them in one day. If you’re lucky, you’ll sneak peeks at the mad few balancing their way across the precarious drops.

WORDS: ANDREAS MORGAN-HALL. PHOTOGRAPHY: WWW.MAIER-JANTZEN.DE (4), SIMON VINAL (1)

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All the best daytime action from around the world ENGLAND VS AUSTRALIA TWENTY20 01.09.09

PHOTOGRAPHY: CHRISTIAN PONDELLA/RED BULL PHOTOFILES (1). DAMIANO LEVATI/RED BULL PHOTOFILES (1). KOLESKY/SANDISK/REDBULL PHOTOFILES (1)

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WORLD MOUNTAIN BIKE AND TRIALS CHAMPIONSHIPS 01 - 06.09.09 Dfi\k_Xe.,'f]k_\nfic[Ëj kfgdflekX`eY`b\ij^Xk_\i kfZfdg\k\`eZifjj$Zflekip# [fne_`cc#]fli$ZifjjXe[ ki`Xcji`[`e^[`jZ`gc`e\j% :XeY\iiX#8ljkiXc`X

WRC AUSTRALIAN RALLY 03 - 06.09.09 8]k\iXknf$p\Xi_`Xklj# k_\XZk`feXii`m\jYXZb`e 8ljkiXc`X%J„YXjk`\eCf\Y _XjfecpnfefeZ\_\i\Æ `e)''+ÆXe[n`ccY\_fg`e^ kfdXb\XY`^`dgi\jj`fe% E\nJflk_NXc\j#8ljkiXc`X

RED BULL STREET STYLE 05.09.09 K_\]ffkYXccki`ZbjZfek\jk i\XZ_\j`kj]flik_Iljj`Xe jkfg#Xe[fe\Zfek\e[\i n`ccdXb\`kk_ifl^_kfk_\ eXk`feXcÔeXce\okdfek_%K_\ `ek\ieXk`feXcÔeXcjn`ccY\_\c[ `eJflk_8]i`ZXe\okjgi`e^% Mfc^f^iX[#Iljj`X

RED BULL ELITE YOUTH CUP 05 - 06.09.09 K_\gi\d`\ipflk_dfkfZifjj j\i`\j_\cgj[\m\cfgpfle^jk\ij ]figif$i`[`e^#n`k_k`gj]ifd fc[\ii`[\ijXe[\m\ekjfm\iknf [Xpjn`k_Xe\dg_Xj`jfe]le% Gfeki`cXj#NXc\j

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RAT RACE ADVENTURE 05 - 06.09.09

RED BULL AIR RACE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS 2009 12 - 13. 09. 09 K_\g\elck`dXk\Z_Xcc\e^\f] )''0#?Xee\j8iZ_`jcffb`e^ ]fi_`jj\Zfe[Z_Xdg`fej_`g m`Zkfip%K_\dlZ_$Xek`Z`gXk\[ ÔeXcn`cckXb\gcXZ\`e 9XiZ\cfeXfeFZkfY\i*$+% Gfikf#Gfikl^Xc

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MOTOGP SAN MARINO 06.09.09 Dfkf>G_XjXcfe^_`jkfip# Xe[ZXekiXZ\`kjfi`^`ej YXZbkf(0+0%JgXe`j_k`kc\ Zfek\e[\i;Xe`G\[ifjXn`ccY\ [\k\id`e\[kfglk`eX^ff[ i`[\X]k\i`ealipkffb_`dflk f]Zfek\ek`fecXjkp\Xi% D`jXef#JXeDXi`ef

EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIP TOUR – ENGLISH MASTERS 09 - 13.09.09 9`b`e`$ZcX[Y\XZ_mfcc\pYXcc\ij dXpÔe[k_\dj\cm\jj_`m\i`e^ fek_\jXe[`e9cXZbgffc%>i\\b k\XdM`Zbp8imXe`k`Xe[DXi`X Kj`Xikj`Xe`n`ccY\_fg`e^kf Zfek`el\k_\`in`ee`e^]fid i\X[dfi\fegX^\(- % 9cXZbgffc#<e^cXe[

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RED BULL BALINERAS RACE 06. 09. 09 Dfi\k_Xe),#'''Xi\\og\Zk\[ kfZifn[k_\:fcfdY`Xejki\\kj kfnXkZ_k\Xdjjg\\[Xcfe^ fiefk #n`k_k_\`iZfcfli]lc _fd\dX[\ZfekiXgk`fej% D\[\cc`e#:fcfdY`X


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BRITISH 2 STROKE CHAMPIONSHIP/PRO NATIONALS 12 - 13.09.09

BRITISH KITESURFING ASSOCIATION EVENT 25 - 27.09.09 @ek_\cXjk_\XkY\]fi\k_\ I\[ZXiÔeXce\okdfek_#k_\ Y\jkf]9i`k`j_kXb\kfk_\ nXk\ijkfj\\n_`Z_b`k\jli]\i _Xjn_Xk`kkXb\jkfn`ek_\ =i\\jkpc\Z_Xdg`fej_`g% C`kkc\_Xdgkfe# N\jkJljj\o#<e^cXe[

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ITALIAN FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIX 11 - 13.09.09

RED BULL MANNY MANIA IRELAND 23.09 - 03.10.09

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FIM MOTOCROSS WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP 13.09.09

IFSC CLIMBING WORLD CUP 25 - 26.09.09

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UCI MOUNTAIN BIKE WORLD CUP 19 - 20.09.09

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CYCLE MESSENGER WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS 19 - 23.09.09

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RED BULL CLIFF DIVING SERIES 20. 9. 09

DTM BARCELONA 20.09.09

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RED BULL STREET STYLE (QUALIFIER) 26.09.09

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MAXXIS BRITISH CHAMPIONSHIP 27.09.09 8jk_\gi\d`\iZfek\jk]fi DO(Xe[DO)i`[\iji\XZ_\j `kjÔeXcifle[#BKDDO(i`[\i 8c\oJefnn`ccY\_fg`e^kf Ôe`j_k_\j\XjfefeX_`^_% 8cX[`\jËiXZ\Xe[d\Z_Xe`ZjË iXZ\ifle[f]]k_\[Xp% CXe[iXb\#:fienXcc#<e^cXe[

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Our pick of the best of art and music festivals around the globe that you won’t want to miss CARLCOX & ADAM FREELAND 01.09.09 ?flj\c\^\e[:Xic:fo`j YXZb]fi_`j\`^_k_j\XjfeXk ZclYY\ijË]Xmfli`k\#JgXZ\#n`k_ _`jn\cc$befne]i`\e[j%9i`k`j_ Yi\XbY\Xk;A8[Xd=i\\cXe[ `jÕp`e^`e]fiXe`^_kn_\i\ef dlj`ZXc^\ei\n`ccY\f]]$c`d`kj% JgXZ\#@Y`qX#JgX`e

THOMAS TRUAX 04.09.09

PHOTOGRAPHY: JAMES PEARSON-HOWES (1), BEN RAYNER (1), GETTY IMAGES (1), EAST (1)

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TWO DAYS A WEEK FESTIVAL 04 - 05.09.09 N_XkY\kk\inXpkfj\\f]] k_\]\jk`mXcj\Xjfek_Xe`eXe 8ljki`XeÔ\c[#jliifle[\[Yp ki\\j#le[\iX^`^Xek`Zk\ek Xcfe^j`[\+'''fk_\ij68[[X ifZbjfle[kiXZbXe[pflËm\^fk pflij\c]Xd\dfiXYc\n\\b\e[% K_\F]]jgi`e^_\X[c`e\% N`\j\e#8ljki`X

DISCO 3000 04 - 06.09.09 ÈDlj`ZdXb\jk_\g\fgc\ Zfd\kf^\k_\i#ÉXZZfi[`e^ kfDX[feeX#Xe[;`jZf*''' gifm\j`kkfY\kil\%K_\_`gg\jk ;Ak\Xdj]ifdXZifjjk_\nfic[ _`kk_\:ifXk`XeZfXjk%J\\ XZkjjlZ_Xj=iXeZ\Ëj:_k\Xl =c`^_k#>\idXepËjDfm\; Xe[9i`kX`eËjKiljËd\% G\kiZXe\#:ifXk`X

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DJ A-TRAK K_\;AkXb\jpflfeXkflif]_`j X[fgk\[e\`^_Yfli_ff[f] N`cc`XdjYli^`e9iffbcpe# E\nPfib#fegX^\0'% E\nPfib#LJ8

ELECTRIC PICNIC 04 - 06.09.09 @i\cXe[ËjXejn\ikf>cXjkfeYlip `jYXZb]fik_\j`ok_k`d\n`k_ XY`^^\i`ek\ieXk`feXc]fccfn`e^ k_Xe\m\i%K_\ZljkfdXi`cp \Zc\Zk`Z8$c`jkc`e\$lgfef]]\i `e)''0`eZcl[\jFiY`kXc# =cXd`e^C`gj#9Xj\d\ekAXoo# Ipbjfgg#=cfi\eZ\Xe[k_\ DXZ_`e\#N_`k\jk9fp8c`m\# Jk\\;fne\j#?pgefk`Z9iXjj <ej\dYc\#K_\Jl^Xi_`cc >Xe^Xe[9`ccp9iX^^% JkiX[YXccp#@i\cXe[

MJ COLE 05.09.09 LB[ildXe[YXjjXe[ ^XiX^\g`fe\\iDA:fc\`j _`kk`e^k_\ifX[n`k_jfd\ e\njfle[j]ifd_`jGifc`ÔZ I\Zfi[`e^jcXY\c%9X[Yfp ]\Xkli\jk_\jflc]lcjfle[j f]mfZXc`jkCXliXMXe\#n_`c\ <XjkCfe[feXik`jk;`^^X^\kj feYfXi[]fi>fkkX?Xm\@k% 9iXk`jcXmX#JcfmXb`X

BUMBERSHOOT 05 - 07.09.09 Efik_8d\i`ZXËjcXi^\jkliYXe Xikj]\jk`mXc_Xj\mfcm\[`e`kj *0p\XijkfY\Zfd\k_\gi\d`\i \m\ek]fidlj`Z#Xikj#Zfd\[p# k_\Xki\#[XeZ\Xe[\m\ipk_`e^ `eY\kn\\e%K_`jp\Xi#k_\ \Zc\Zk`Zdlj`Zc`e\$lg`eZcl[\j BXkpG\iipXe[;\CXJflc% J\Xkkc\#LJ8

THE BLACK BOX REVELATION K_\pËm\Y\\e[i`m`e^9\c^`Xe Zifn[jn`c[n`k__`^_$fZkXe\ Ycl\jifZb%:XkZ_lgn`k_k_\d Xk:XZklj=\jk`mXcfegX^\//% 9il^\j#9\c^`ld


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DJ HARVEY @ SUNDAY BEST 06.09.09

MANHATTAN JAZZ QUINTET 10.09.09

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DERRICK MAY 06.09.09 DXp`jXe\Xicpk\Z_efg`fe\\i# f]k\eZi\[`k\[n`k_Zi\Xk`e^ k_\^\ei\Xe[glj_`e^`k`e_`j _fd\kfnef];\kif`k%8ck_fl^_ Xm\k\iXef]k_\jZ\e\#_\efn gif[lZ\jn_Xk_\_Xj[lYY\[ ?`K\Z_Jflc#fiÈ>\fi^\ :c`ekfed\\k`e^BiX]kn\ib `eXe\c\mXkfiÉ% JgXZ\#@Y`qX#JgX`e

GREEN & BLUE 07.09.09  K_\j\Xjfe$Zcfj`e^gXikp]fi k_\k\Z_efjldd\i%<m\ip p\Xi;AJm\eM€k_`em`k\j k_fljXe[j]ifd]XiXe[n`[\ kfaf`e_`dXe[XZkjjlZ_Xj KfY`E\ldXee#Dfkfi:`kp Jflc#IX[`fJcXm\Xe[dXep dfi\n`ccY\k_\i\kf\ek\ikX`e% @d9`ib\e^ile[# FY\ikj_Xlj\e#>\idXep

NEVERLAND MOVIE TOUR 08 – 12.09.09 ;feËknfiip#k_`j`jeËkXefk_\i D`Z_X\cAXZbjfeki`Ylk\% E\m\icXe[`jk_\('k_ÔcdYp jefnYfXi[Zi\n8Yj`ek_\# i\m`\n`e^k_\Y\jkaldgjf]k_\ cXjkj\XjfefeZ\cclcf`[%K_\ jkXijf]k_\Ôcdn`ccY\flk Xe[XYflkXkk_\gi\d`\i\j% '/%'0Qli`Z_#Jn`kq\icXe[2 ((%'0Dle`Z_#>\idXep2 ((%'0Fjcf#EfinXp2 ()%'0>iXq#8ljki`X

NUMUSIC FESTIVAL 2009 09 - 13.09.09 UPPER EAST, HAMBURG DXib:`le`jYi`e^jE\nPfib jkpc\kf_`g?XdYli^n`k__`j cXk\jkZclY%:fZbkX`cj#Y\XZ_ Z_X`ijXe[jlj_`Zi\Xk\k_\Zffc m`Y\Xe[Xj\c\Zk`fef];Aj^\k k_\gXikpjkXik\[fegX^\0*% ?XdYli^#>\idXep

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CARIBOU VIBRATION ENSEMBLE 10.09.09 :XeX[`XeXik`jk:Xi`Yfl# ]fid\icpZXcc\[;Xe`\cJeX`k_# `jXgifc`ÔZZfdgfj\if] gjpZ_\[\c`Z$\c\Zkife`Zjfle[ cXe[jZXg\j%C`m\#_\kfkXccp i\nfibj_`ji\Zfi[\[dXk\i`Xc n`k__`jM`YiXk`fe<ej\dYc\# X(+$g`\Z\YXe[`eZcl[`e^]fli [ildd\ijXe[XZ_f`i% Fg\iX?flj\#Kfifekf#:XeX[X

BURAKA SOM SISTEMA 11.09.09 K_\Gfikl^l\j\b`e^jf]bl[lif _\X[Xb`cc\ic`e\$lgYfle[]fi k_\Yi`ZbnfibnXii\ef]Cfe[fe [XeZ\d\ZZX#=XYi`Z%8cfe^j`[\ 9JJËj;Aj\k#JZXikZ_G\im\ikj n`ccY\j_fn`e^f]]k_\`ikliekXYc\ ki`Zb\ip`eIffdFe\%IffdKnf n`ccY\Ylijk`e^Xkk_\j\Xdjn`k_ jk\ccXiXZkj`eZcl[`e^D\kXc_\X[q# >fc[`\#Jkfid#IXe[XccXe[ =c`^_k%IffdK_i\\]\Xkli\j B`e^:Xee`YXcXe[Clb\%<emfp% =XYi`Z#Cfe[fe#<e^cXe[

BESTIVAL 11 - 13.09.09 @kËjfe\f]k_\ÔeXc]\jk`mXc ^Xk_\i`e^j%KiXm\cc`e^Yp]\iip ^`m\jpflXgifg\i_fc`[Xp ]\\c`e^#k_\i\ËjXeFlk\iJgXZ\ ]XeZp$[i\jjZfdg\k`k`fe#Xe[ Y`^YXe[j`eZcl[`e^D>DK# BcXofej#BiX]kn\ibXe[ =c\\k=fo\j%K_\I\[9lcc Xi\XXk9\jk`mXcn`ccY\ Xgfjk$XgfZXcpgk`ZjgXZ\cXe[ ]\Xkli`e^k_\c`b\jf]8ee`\ E`^_k`e^Xc\Xe[DXikpekf Yi`e^pflYXZb[fnekf\Xik_% @jc\f]N`^_k#<e^cXe[

ATP NEW YORK 11 - 13.09.09 K_\ZfeZ\gkf]k_\8cc KfdfiifnËjGXik`\j]\jk`mXc `jXjj`dgc\Xj`k`j`e^\e`flj% @ejk\X[f]Xef]ÔZ`Xcfi^Xe`j\i [\Z`[`e^k_\c`e\$lg#n_pefk ^\kXdlj`ZXc`Zfekf[f`k6K_\ =cXd`e^C`gjn`ccZliXk\k_\ \m\ek#Xe[Y\af`e\[YpJl]aXe Jk\m\ejXe[fk_\ijfejkX^\% Dfek`Z\ccf#E\nPfib#LJ8

87


Nightcrawler

Portrait of an Artist The street artist with a thing for pins goes into the small hours down the pub and up on the roof. Rebecca Nicholson joined him @kËjcXk\X]k\ieffe`ek_\d`[[c\f]jldd\i% >iX]Ôk`Xik`jk@EJ8lj_\ijlj`ekf_`jcXk\jk \o_`Y`k`fek_ifl^_X^`XekgX`if]Zlkflkc\^j `ejk`c\kkf$_\\c\[kiX`e\ij%N\Ëi\le[\ie\Xk_ Xefc[iX`cnXpXiZ_`eCfe[feËjJ_fi\[`kZ_# n_`Z__XjY\\ekXb\efm\i#]fik_\k`d\Y\`e^# YpXg\ijg\Zk`m\$j_`]k`e^mfik\of]YcXZbXe[ n_`k\c`e\j%@EJ8Ëjgc\Xj\[k_Xk`kdXb\jd\ [`qqpÆÈ`kËjjlggfj\[kfY\[`jfi`\ekXk`e^É ÆXe[_Xgg`cpkXcbjd\k_ifl^_k_\j_fn% Cffb`e^=fiCfm\@e8ccK_\Nife^GcXZ\j ^\kj`kjeXd\]ifd`kj]\k`j_$`ejg`i\[`dX^\ip Æ^`Xekd`iifi\[YlkkfZbjXe[_\\cjgX`ek\[ `eYcXZbGM:Æn_`Z_`jjlggfj\[kfY\X Zfdd\ekfeZfejld\iZlckli\%È8efYa\Zk`]p`e^ jpdYfc#c`b\k_\YldÆ`kËjXYflkj_Xccfn Xjg`iXk`fe#Xe[`kËji\Õ\Zk`m\#pflËi\cffb`e^ Xkpflij\c]#É_\\ogcX`ej#^\jk`ZlcXk`e^n`k_ _`jgX`ek$Õ\Zb\[Ôe^\ij%K_\e_\jd`c\j% È@[feËknXekkfY\j\\eXjaljkXg\im\ik%É K_\\o_`Y`k`feZcfj\jXe[n\nXcbfm\i kfk_\Jkife^iffd9XiXcfe^k_\nXpn\j\\ @EJ8Ëjnfib[fkk\[Xifle[k_\Xi\X #^iXY XZflgc\f]g`ekjXe[j`kflkj`[\`ek_\Yljp Y\\i^Xi[\e%?\kXcbjXYflk_`j]fccfn`e^ `eAXgXeXe[k_\nfib_\Ëj[fe\`e`kjZ`k`\j# Xe[`jjf]lccf]\ek_lj`Xjdk_Xk_\Ë[c`b\kf dfm\k_\i\g\idXe\ekcp%N\kXcbXYflkn_p _\b\\gj_`j]XZ\flkf]g_fkf^iXg_jXe[ iXi\cp^`m\j`ek\im`\njY\ZXlj\_\nXekj`k kfY\XYflkk_\nfib#Xe[efkn_fZi\Xk\[ `k#_\nfeËki\m\Xc_`ji\XceXd\#Xe[^`m\j _`jX^\Xj\Xicp*'j %?\\ogcX`ej_fn_\ ]\\cjXYflkYXcXeZ`e^k_\^iX]Ôk`nfic[]ifd n_`Z__\ZXd\n`k_ZfigfiXk\^`^j#c`b\_`j E`b\$jgfejfi\[\o_`Y`k`feXe[k_\kiX`e\ij Xe[_ff[`\j_\[\j`^ej%È@kËjXccXYflke\m\i _Xm`e^kf^\kXafY#É_\i\Xjfej#Xkk_\\e[% 8jk_\X`ijkXikjkfZ_`ccXe[k_\[Xib [iXnj`e#n\_\X[kfXef]]$c`Z\eZ\#g`Zb lgjfd\Zfc[ZXejXe[dfm\fekfXiff] X]\nd`elk\jËXnXp#n_`Z_^`m\jljXZZ\jj kfXnXcc@EJ8\Xic`\i`ek_\[XpgX`ek\[ 88

INSA LONDON


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OUTLOOK FESTIVAL 11 - 13.09.09 ?\XmpYXjj#jeXi\Xe[[XibjXdgc\j Xi\Xcc`e^i\[`\ekj`ek_\[lYjk\g d`om\ekli`e^kfk_\:ifXk`XeZfXjk YpnXpf];Aj`eZcl[`e^DXcX# Cf\]X_Xe[9\e^X%K_\Y`^^\jk [lYjk\gc`e\$lg`ek_\nfic[`j XkkiXZk`e^gXikp^f\ij]ifdXccfm\i ÆXe[k_\jXe[pY\XZ_\jf]k_\ `jcXe[m\el\[feËk_lik#\`k_\i% EfmXcaX#:ifXk`X

FESTIVAL DE SAINT-NOLFF 12.09.09 =fiX]\jk`mXc\og\i`\eZ\k_XkdXp Y\Xc`kkc\dfi\i\cXo\[k_Xejfd\# k_`j^Xk_\i`e^fe=iXeZ\Ëjn\jk ZfXjkf]]\ijefkfecpXe`[pcc`Z m`ccX^\Xkdfjg_\i\#Ylk^l`kXi jkildd`e^Xe[Ziffe`e^]ifd XZkjjlZ_XjG\k\i;f_\ikp# B\q`X_Afe\jXe[GXki`Z\% JX`ek$Efc]]#=iXeZ\

WESTWIND FESTIVAL 12.9.09 8e\nifZb]\jk`mXcn`ccfg\e`kj ^Xk\jkfk_fljXe[j`eJXcqYli^ k_`jdfek_%K_\fg\e$X`ijg\ZkXZc\ n`cc]\Xkli\@Z_"@Z_Xe[iXgg\i ;\e[\dXee#n`k_jfd\f]k_\ gifZ\\[j^f`e^kfZ_Xi`kpIfZb 8^X`ejkGfm\ikp% I\j`[\eZ\JhlXi\#JXcqYli^# 8ljki`X

SCOPITONE FESTIVAL 16 – 20.09.09 K_\j\m\ek_XeelXcJZfg`kfe\ =\jk`mXcn`ccZfek`el\`e`kjkiX[`k`fe f]d`o`e^Xcc]fidjf]Zi\Xk`m`kp#]ifd dlj`ZXe[[XeZ\kfm`[\f#^iXg_`Z [\j`^eXe[XiZ_`k\Zkli\#`emXi`flj m\el\jXifle[EXek\j%N_fDX[\ N_f#;A=\X[q#;Xe;\XZfeXe[ 9liXbXJfdJ`jk\dXXi\Xdfe^k_\ dlj`ZXcXZkjd`o`e^n`k_k_\Xikj% EXek\j#=iXeZ\

PHOTOGRAPHY: JAMES PEARSON-HOWES

JAZZANOVA 17.09.09 Jfd\n_\i\Y\kn\\eX;A Zfcc\Zk`m\Xe[Xc`m\YXe[c`\ 9\ic`eËjAXqqXefmX#n_fXi\kfli`e^ n`k_k_\`ie\nXcYldF]8ccK_`e^j% K_\pXii`m\`eM`\eeXkfg\i]fid n`k_;\kif`kj`e^\iGXlcIXe[fcg_ ]fik_\Ôijkk`d\% Gfi^p9\jj#M`\eeX#8ljki`X

DAM-FUNK, BENJI B 18.09.09 LJdf[\ie]lebjk\i#Yff^`\ XÔZ`feX[fXe[Xcc$ifle[gXikp jkXik\i#;Xd$=lebk\Xdjlgn`k_ 9i`k`j_;AXe[IX[`f(gi\j\ek\i 9\ea`9Xe[_`j\Zc\Zk`Zi\g\ikf`i\ f]_`g$_fg#_flj\#aXqqXe[jflckf Zi\Xk\k_\Y\jkYc\e[f]YX[Y\Xkj% Kfbpf#AXgXe

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THE BLACK BOX REVELATION BRUGES The Green Room

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PHOTOGRAPHY: BEN RAYNER

Mixing a hint of White Stripes with a healthy dose of Jagger, Belgian blues rockers The Black Box Revelation shook up Cactus Festival. Nick Amies was there to chronicle the madness


MORE BODY & MIND

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Resident Artist

No Sleep Till Brooklyn Hip-hop and electro DJ A-TRAK has played beat-maker to Kanye West and was crowned DMC world DJ champion, aged just 15, back in 1997. So it’s only natural that the Canadian calls ‘hip-hop mecca’ Brooklyn, NYC, his home 9iffbcpei\j`[\ek 8$KI8Bi`^_k #n`k_ ;ACM#c`b\jXiXn dXeËj[i`ebXk JXmXcXjY\cfn fi ZfZbkX`cjXk;i\jjc\i Y\cfn#i`^_k

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UPPER EAST HAMBURG

OSUNLADE 26.09.09

The World’s Best Clubs

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Don’t Fear the Reeperbahn

PHOTOGRAPHY: GETTY IMAGES (1), TRESPASSERS WILL (1), SENARI (1), EAST (3). ILLUSTRATION: ANDREAS POSSELT

Uschi Korda visits a new club that’s bringing a flavour of New York glitz to Hamburg =fiXZ`kpXjd`ek\[Xj?XdYli^#Xe[X Ylj`e\jjdXeXjXdY`k`fljXjDXiZ:`le`j# k_\i\Xi\fecpfe\fiknfZ`k`\jnfik_ \dlcXk`e^n_\e`kZfd\jkf[\m\cfg`e^e\n ZfeZ\gkj%ÈN\cffb\[Xkjfd\clolipZclYj `eE\nPfibXe[Cfe[feXe[ki`\[kf[f jfd\k_`e^j`d`cXi#É\ogcX`ej:`le`j#fe\f] k_\]fle[\ijf]k_\i\efne\[<Xjk_fk\c% CfZXk\[`ek_\Z`kpËjifn[pI\\g\iYX_e e\`^_Yfli_ff[#Xe[Y\Xi`e^k_\[`jk`eZk Xe[Zfcfli]lcj`^eXkli\f]XiZ_`k\ZkAfi[Xe Dfq\i#k_\<Xjk_XjY\\eYl`ck`ekfX]fid\i Yi`Zb$]ifek\[`ife]fle[ip%Kfk_\gfglcXi _fk\cXe[i\jkXliXek#:`le`j_XjX[[\[k_\ Lgg\i<Xjk%K_\]flik_$ÕffiZclY]\Xkli\j Xkfg$f]$k_\$c`e\jfle[Xe[m`[\fjpjk\d# k_\_`^_c`^_kf]n_`Z_`jXj\i`\jf](,'d) C<;m`[\fnXccjk_XkZi\Xk\Xm\i`kXYc\fZ\Xe f]m`jlXcef`j\kfk_\i_pk_df]k_\Y\Xk% K_\ZclY`jd\dY\ijfecp#Ylk Z_XeZ\jXi\k_Xkj`[c`e^lgkfk_\<XjkYXi [fnejkX`ijXe[dXb`e^k_\i`^_kb`e[f] jdXcckXcbn`cc^\kpfl`ealjkÔe\%JkXi;Aj jlZ_Xj=iXeZ\jZf;`XqXe[KfdJ_Xib gifm`[\k_\jfle[kiXZb%8e[Xck_fl^_k_\ [XeZ\ÕffiXkk_\\e[f]k_\YXid`^_kY\ jdXcc#`kfecpkXb\jXn_`c\Y\]fi\?Xej\Xk`Z i\j\im\[`jjfcm\j`ekfXiXlZflj#gXZb\[ [XeZ\gXikp#E\nPfib$jkpc\% Lgg\i<Xjk#J`dfe$mfe$Lki\Z_k$JkiXjj\*(#)'*0, ?XdYli^2nnn%\Xjk$_XdYli^%[\

FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIX SINGAPORE/F1 ROCKS 24 - 27.09.09 K_\XZk`fenfeËkXccY\jXm\[lg ]fijle[fneXkk_\fecpe`^_kiXZ\ fek_\=(ZXc\e[Xi#Xjk_\`eXl^liXc =(IfZbj\m\ekj\\j8$c`jkjkXij `eZcl[`e^9\pfeZ„#9cXZb<p\[ G\XjXe[E!<!I!;kXb\kfk_\ jkX^\fm\ik_i\\[Xpj%M`j`k nnn%](ifZbj%Zfd]fi[\kX`cj% J`e^Xgfi\

PARKLIFE FESTIVAL 26 - 27.09.09 & 3 – 5.10.09 GXibc`]\`jY`^^\ik_XepfliXm\iX^\ ]\jk`mXc#`kËjXkiXm\cc`e^gXikpkfli`e^ Ôm\Z`k`\jXZifjj8ljkiXc`XjkXik`e^ `e9i`jYXe\Xe[G\ik_#k_\edfm`e^ kfD\cYflie\#Jp[e\pXe[8[\cX`[\ % GXZb\[`ekfk_\g`Ze`ZYXjb\kXi\ 8$KI8B#Ale`fi9fpj#CXIflo# K`^X#DJKIBI=KXe[dfi\% 9i`jYXe\#G\ik_#D\cYflie\# Jp[e\p8[\cX`[\#8ljkiXc`X

JESSE SAUNDERS 3.10.09

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JXle[\ij`ji\m\i\[Xjk_\]fle[\i f]_flj\dlj`Z`e_`j_fd\Z`kpf] :_`ZX^f#n`k_k_\kiXZbFeFe`e (0/+%?\n\ekfekfgif[lZ\Yfk_ ÔcdjXe[dlj`Z#i\d`ofk_\iXik`jkj# gifdfk\ZclYe`^_kjXe[ni`k\%9lk dfi\k_XeXepk_`e^#_\befnj_fn kf^\kX[XeZ\Õffidfm`e^% J\Fe\:clY#Cfe[fe#<e^cXe[

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Bull’s Eye

ILLUSTRATIONS: WWW.CARTOONSTOCK.COM (6), DIETMAR KAINRATH (1)

Scaling uncharted heights of comic genius, this month’s cartoons have left Ricky Gervais stuck at base camp

94


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www.wingsforlife.com


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A story by Mark P Hughes

Barack Phones a Friend If your life is a journey of many stops on a windblown freeway, what happens when you suddenly reach your fate, for so long hidden beyond the distant horizon?

H

e sits looking around him in the bar, a place full of the strangest people. A man with a glass eye is telling anyone who will listen about how he writes all Ry Cooder’s music and how Ry steals it off him in his dreams: “F***in’ walks in at night, bold as brass, uninvited, like some biblical character, looks me in the eye from across the room for a while, intense, then smirks and walks off into the hills that are hidden behind the wall. There goes another f***er. I try to get the song down as soon as I wake, but it’s too late. F***er’s CD is out the next day and there it is, exactly as I heard it.” “Oysters!” shouts another man, randomly, to no one in particular. Earlier, he’s explained how he’s cut off the ear of a jealous love rival, showed Robert the knife he’s done it with, “to stop him taking calls from my woman”.

96

Two women, available for hire, beautiful embodiments of ‘the trap’, that part of the brain that recognises pleasing form and translates it into desire, are just catching up with each other for now, sitting at one of the rickety tables, drinking and gossiping. A woman, whose beautiful days are behind her, glides a serene practised path between the tables: Madame Rosso. It’s her bar. It used to be on the fringes of a jungle, at the end of a mud path, a few locals and downtime oil workers. Now, it’s exactly the same bar, same furnishings, same dark Moroccan feel inside; but outside, it’s surrounded by glitzy reflecting glass skyscrapers and four lanes of traffic. Three decades between the two scenes, and Robert has been in both of them, but in none of the intervening ones. He can almost see himself as he was then, sitting in the

same corner of the room – a young kid, slimmer, hairier, more optimistic, excited, wanting to taste everything on his travels, with no idea yet what was going to become of him, future limitless. What was going to become of him? He still didn’t know. How come he was back here? A flair for melancholy had developed, then enveloped him, over the years. Why hadn’t he amounted to anything, for all his brilliance? He thought fondly of his college friend, Barack, who always had a plan, was always on his way somewhere. Robert

He thought of his college friend, Barack, who always had a plan


ILLUSTRATION: ADAM POINTER

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had known many people like that then, but Barack was unique among them in that his journey’s passage didn’t stop him seeing the scenery on the way. The others – the ambitious lawyers, architects, doctors – their paths were so straight, forming an arrow on the horizon, they sped down them faster than a Mach 1 Mustang on the desert highway. So they never got to ponder, were never slowed by reflection, doubts or any of life’s riddles, and never really came to contemplate why things were as they were. Barack had always been intrigued by Robert’s propensity to dawdle by the roadside, and was even able to do a little of it himself in between following the plan. But Robert had no plan. Oh, he got into computers, invented software that kept the money coming in, allowed him to continue his real pursuits – literature,

ecology, philosophy, physics, psychology, economics – knowledge for its own sake. He even formed new understandings, outside of accepted academia, brilliant theories – new takes on accepted wisdom. In between, he liked to meet new people in new places, tinker with his cars, ride his motorbike, listen to his music and undertake voyages of discovery with no set destination. No plan. He gorged on life, just breathe in, breathe out, choose your own ground. How does that buzzard ‘see’ the thermals? Feel that slight directional vagueness: what is it – hub bearing becoming worn? What material do they use? Why? A waft of roadside café bacon – what receptors in the brain electrically relay that to its pleasure centre? Did that shaman really go off to some other plane last night? Does that other plane really exist? Does the shaman’s perception of its existence bring it into existence? Does that apply to everything? What is the universe expanding into? What if the expansion isn’t uniform? It will skew the observations. Does that mean we don’t need the mysterious dark energy to explain away the expansion? Look at that ’67 Camaro. Why were proportions so much better understood then? Look what’s left of that industry now. Credit crunch – whoops – saw that one coming. Saw it when the financial markets went punk some time back in the early ’90s, when ‘credit derivatives’ were invented by a bunch of drunken bankers around a Boca Raton swimming pool, taking advantage of the misguided recent removal of key state constraints. I remember it – I was there. Understood it, too, and – unlike them – understood its implications, namely that it made possible a chain reaction of losses that would surely one day bring the whole thing tumbling down and make 1929 look like a practice run. Funny how solving that now seems the number one priority, as if the ecological time bomb has just somehow gone away. Technology will save us, they say. Nah, that’s a mass delusion. Technology was only ever going to be used for the same ends as our race has ever chased – power over others, wealth, control… It’s just magnified our flaws by making them more efficiently expressed. Progress will have to be about a mass consciousness shift. How would you go about it? You’d be up against millions of years of natural selection that made it individually advantageous for us to be short-termist, sexually prolific, tribal and selfish. Wonder what the inhabitants of a planet circling the nearest star would

be seeing of earth right now, only fourpoint-three years ago: if there really is such a thing as transference – the instant transfer of information regardless of the speed of light, with physicists still arguing whether that’s possible or not – then maybe we could get in touch with them and arrange a betting scam. Music playing into the headphones the whole time, chiming with the thoughts, hear how that band’s dynamic is anchored by the Hammond organ being used as rhythm – lets the drummer fly about all over the place, the drum as a lead instrument, very different. A slight chill now as we reach the foothills, engine feeling gutsier as it gets nice dense air to work with. So, as he watches the two ladies in the bar, he ponders again on ‘the trap’. Seems more finely-developed in man than woman. Woman can look at a car and see just a shape in metal. Man looks at it and sees whether that shape is proportionally ‘correct’ or not. Generalisation, but largely true. Man looks at a woman and sees whether she looks proportionally correct, alert to it like a tiger sensing movement in the distant scrub. Probably to do with Darwinism, how the male needed to seed as many different women as possible to maximise the chances of his lineage being continued, whereas woman could only be seeded one pregnancy at a time. So, today, he’s trapped by something ancient that’s no longer appropriate. And women like these two in Madame Rosso’s bar can profit from it if they choose. Thoughts interrupted by, “Hey, Proust!” It’s the loudmouth madman at the bar he’d talked with earlier, drunker now. Time to get going, to leave the nostalgic reverie – step back into today. And still no clue as to what he wants to do. And it’s troubling him now, just as it was when he decided to set off on this jaunt. Well into the journey – still no answers, just better questions. Walking into the sunlight, his mobile rings. “Hello, is that Robert?” Yes. “Wow, you took a lot of tracking down. I have The President on the line.”

About the author Mark P Hughes is the Grand Prix editor of Autosport magazine, and assists the BBC TV commentary team behind the scenes at each Formula One race. MPH’s poetic turn of phrase has been likened to the work of Ernest Hemingway by New Zealand journalist Eoin Young. 97


ILLUSTRATION: ADAM POINTER

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had known many people like that then, but Barack was unique among them in that his journey’s passage didn’t stop him seeing the scenery on the way. The others – the ambitious lawyers, architects, doctors – their paths were so straight, forming an arrow on the horizon, they sped down them faster than a Mach 1 Mustang on the desert highway. So they never got to ponder, were never slowed by reflection, doubts or any of life’s riddles, and never really came to contemplate why things were as they were. Barack had always been intrigued by Robert’s propensity to dawdle by the roadside, and was even able to do a little of it himself in between following the plan. But Robert had no plan. Oh, he got into computers, invented software that kept the money coming in, allowed him to continue his real pursuits – literature,

ecology, philosophy, physics, psychology, economics – knowledge for its own sake. He even formed new understandings, outside of accepted academia, brilliant theories – new takes on accepted wisdom. In between, he liked to meet new people in new places, tinker with his cars, ride his motorbike, listen to his music and undertake voyages of discovery with no set destination. No plan. He gorged on life, just breathe in, breathe out, choose your own ground. How does that buzzard ‘see’ the thermals? Feel that slight directional vagueness: what is it – hub bearing becoming worn? What material do they use? Why? A waft of roadside café bacon – what receptors in the brain electrically relay that to its pleasure centre? Did that shaman really go off to some other plane last night? Does that other plane really exist? Does the shaman’s perception of its existence bring it into existence? Does that apply to everything? What is the universe expanding into? What if the expansion isn’t uniform? It will skew the observations. Does that mean we don’t need the mysterious dark energy to explain away the expansion? Look at that ’67 Camaro. Why were proportions so much better understood then? Look what’s left of that industry now. Credit crunch – whoops – saw that one coming. Saw it when the financial markets went punk some time back in the early ’90s, when ‘credit derivatives’ were invented by a bunch of drunken bankers around a Boca Raton swimming pool, taking advantage of the misguided recent removal of key state constraints. I remember it – I was there. Understood it, too, and – unlike them – understood its implications, namely that it made possible a chain reaction of losses that would surely one day bring the whole thing tumbling down and make 1929 look like a practice run. Funny how solving that now seems the number one priority, as if the ecological time bomb has just somehow gone away. Technology will save us, they say. Nah, that’s a mass delusion. Technology was only ever going to be used for the same ends as our race has ever chased – power over others, wealth, control… It’s just magnified our flaws by making them more efficiently expressed. Progress will have to be about a mass consciousness shift. How would you go about it? You’d be up against millions of years of natural selection that made it individually advantageous for us to be short-termist, sexually prolific, tribal and selfish. Wonder what the inhabitants of a planet circling the nearest star would

be seeing of earth right now, only fourpoint-three years ago: if there really is such a thing as transference – the instant transfer of information regardless of the speed of light, with physicists still arguing whether that’s possible or not – then maybe we could get in touch with them and arrange a betting scam. Music playing into the headphones the whole time, chiming with the thoughts, hear how that band’s dynamic is anchored by the Hammond organ being used as rhythm – lets the drummer fly about all over the place, the drum as a lead instrument, very different. A slight chill now as we reach the foothills, engine feeling gutsier as it gets nice dense air to work with. So, as he watches the two ladies in the bar, he ponders again on ‘the trap’. Seems more finely-developed in man than woman. Woman can look at a car and see just a shape in metal. Man looks at it and sees whether that shape is proportionally ‘correct’ or not. Generalisation, but largely true. Man looks at a woman and sees whether she looks proportionally correct, alert to it like a tiger sensing movement in the distant scrub. Probably to do with Darwinism, how the male needed to seed as many different women as possible to maximise the chances of his lineage being continued, whereas woman could only be seeded one pregnancy at a time. So, today, he’s trapped by something ancient that’s no longer appropriate. And women like these two in Madame Rosso’s bar can profit from it if they choose. Thoughts interrupted by, “Hey, Proust!” It’s the loudmouth madman at the bar he’d talked with earlier, drunker now. Time to get going, to leave the nostalgic reverie – step back into today. And still no clue as to what he wants to do. And it’s troubling him now, just as it was when he decided to set off on this jaunt. Well into the journey – still no answers, just better questions. Walking into the sunlight, his mobile rings. “Hello, is that Robert?” Yes. “Wow, you took a lot of tracking down. I have The President on the line.”

About the author Mark P Hughes is the Grand Prix editor of Autosport magazine, and assists the BBC TV commentary team behind the scenes at each Formula One race. MPH’s poetic turn of phrase has been likened to the work of Ernest Hemingway by New Zealand journalist Eoin Young. 97


Mind’s Eye

Plight of the Concordes Stephen Bayley discusses a brilliant concept too far ahead of its time – yet also behind it The poetry of the moon landing and Concorde is this: they were not the beginning of heroic new adventures in transport, but the elegiac end. The infinity of space turned out to be a conceptual cul-de-sac, while supersonic passenger travel for a well-dressed, well-heeled elite turned out to be an idea rooted in tweedy, rigid baby-boom era futurism, along with the traffic-free motorways, Telstar, Dr Who and the excitements of multi-channel TV. Supersonic flight was one of the great collective fascinations of the post-war recovery. Originally the province of research and the military, by the late ’50s, when fathers still bought boys The Eagle, its civil applications were being studied by airframe manufacturers. These included The Bristol Aeroplane Company and Sud Aviation of Toulouse. A collaboration document – a ‘concorde’ – was signed by the two companies on November 29, 1962. In a bizarre agreement, the French were responsible for the wings, rear cabin, air-con and avionics. The British took on the forward and rearmost fuselage, tail-fin, engine nacelles (with ingenious computer-controlled variable ducts) and installation. The engines were Olympus 593 Mark 610 turbojets jointly manufactured by Rolls-Royce and the Société Nationale d’Étude et

de Construction de Moteurs d’Aviation. Say that aloud to sense the seriousness. Concorde 001 flew on March 2, 1969, four months before Neil Armstrong’s small step along his lunar dead-end. The magic and romance of Concorde is this: while the confusions, self-interest, recriminations and positively Napoleonic bi-partisan political bickering should have produced an ugly camel of an aircraft, they produced one of the most beautiful machines of all time. One reason was that extreme performance required extreme design solutions. Taste had very little to do with the appearance of a craft designed to operate not just at the edge of space, but also at the edge of knowledge. For example, the delta wings contained an exceptional amount of fuel because the avgas acted like a heatsink, reducing the scary surface temperatures generated in supersonic flight. And with tragic determinism, this feature caused the sole Concorde accident, which led to its removal from service: on July 25, 2000, a Concorde leaving Paris picked up debris on take-off, which led to a full

Concorde was an aristocrat in a republican era

wing-tank being destructively penetrated. This would not have happened with the fleshy wings of a Boeing 747, a robust design with its origins in a secular military contract. The large, ungainly 747 first flew on February 9, 1969. This was quite a year for aviation. It was not fuel prices, environmentalism, nor even the Paris crash that ruined Concorde – it was what American literary critic Paul Fussell called the ‘proletarianisation of culture’. In the 1980s, someone asked Charles Saatchi if he used public transport. He replied: “Yes. I go on Concorde to New York.” The Anglo-French plane was a masterpiece but also a sociological calamity. While much of mankind’s evolutionary journey has been defined by speed, by the late 20th century, it was defined by volume. As they used to say in the US car industry, at the time when cast-iron, pushrod V8s displacing 7 litres of God’s good air were commonplace: “There ain’t no substitute for cubic inches.” The 747 ‘jumbo jet’ was that equivalent. It is an airborne obesity class of Ronald McDonald’s culture, but it is what the world wanted. America invented movies and mass media. Then, it invented mass subsonic travel. Never mind that the doleful effects of shipping hundreds of planeloads of 400 incurious dorks around the planet in a continuous loop of brainless consumption has done more damage to culture and the environment than Concorde’s thirsty engines – Concorde was an aristocrat in a republican era. So, it was doomed. You sensed this when travelling on it. Not that the pencil-thin cabin resembled anything ancien régime, but there was a feeling of being between the crisis and the catastrophe. Of course, the New York flights were always busy: one London journey took under three hours. But there was an underlying absurdity. Concorde was so thrilling, you did not want to get off. You could see the earth’s curvature from FL55 – 55,000ft on the altimeter – and the sky was purple. Kindly stewardesses poured good champagne and fine claret into crystal-clear glasses. “Damn. Are we there already?” I found myself thinking. Meanwhile, on the flight deck, the captain checked his clockwork instruments and adjusted his stiff upper lip. It really was that old-fashioned… Stephen Bayley is a former director of the Design Museum in London and an award-winning freelance writer

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ILLUSTRATION: VON

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