Issuu

£3.00 ISSN 1757-3955

It’s not where you’re from, it’s where you’re at.” – Ian Brown, circa 1989 I would argue this is probably the best rock’n’roll statement of all time. For power and effect, it beats Bob Geldof’s primetime on BBC, “Just give us your fucking money” any time. It’s the sort of statement Karl Marx himself would’ve been proud of. In the year that every single music journalist in the country was clamouring for anything with any kind of connection to Manchester (mainly because of The Stone Roses themselves), it was the perfect reactionary statement. One interpretation of what Ian Brown was saying was: we stand by this record we have produced. We stand by it as a timeless piece of work which defies categorisation. I would say it’s a near-perfect record from start to finish, definitely my favourite album of all time, the album I fell in love with, and in love to, in most people’s top 10, although “controversially” not in Gary Mulholland’s Top 261 (what a wanker). I still remember Whitey telling me during a Biology class that he’d bought the album, in the week it came out. I soon had a cassette copy. As I remember, it exactly filled one side of a C90, up until the break in “I Am the Resurrection” (could this have been deliberate?), so I didn’t have the rest of Squire’s inspired solo until I bought the album on vinyl. I thought I’d have to do something a bit different, so I bought the American version, which had “Elephant Stone” as an extra track. It’s one of my favourite Roses songs, but I think it spoils the track listing. I always thought as well that “Elizabeth My Dear” would have had more impact as the last song on the a-side, rather than the first song on the b-side (I thought this was the case when listening to my cassette copy), but that’s just opinion. You can still listen to the album now, and from the first notes of “I Wanna Be Adored”, you’ll feel compelled to listen till the end. Thinking quickly, I can only think of two other favourite albums which I always like to listen to all the way through – “Sea Monsters” by The Wedding Present, and more recently, “In Our Space Hero Suits” by Those Dancing Days, but in the case of the latter, this may be because they’ve carefully placed the two stand-out tracks as the last two on the album. One thing Those Dancing Days and The Stone Roses have in common are two phenomenally good, and versatile drummers. In the early days, it was Reni’s drumming that helped the band attract attention. But everything about each member of the band – the baggy clothes, long hair, pouts, the splatter paintings, the way they tried to unify people and styles – and of course, the music as well, was cool – hence renaming this edition of the magazine, which is paying tribute to The Stone Roses and their debut album, which has its 20th anniversary this year. Sadly no interviews as hoped, but there are various articles about the band and the album, plus all the poems and short stories I’ve managed to find room for. Hope you enjoy it. Nick

Kate.noakes@googlemail.com

amandalambournejones@hotmail.co.uk

Kate’s gran once worked on Blue Peter.

Amanda believes in faeries and goblins.

tomsg@tiscali.co.uk

burtophil@hotmail.com

Judy could discuss the Welsh litter problem for 5 hours.

barriellew@aol.com

Phil is also known as Pip the Poet.

bjrpear@ntlworld.com Bernard P’s father met the man who killed Rasputin.

Barrie is too cool for school.

dylan.moore@hotmail.co.uk

christopher.d.white@ntlworld.com

Dylan’s favourite colours are those of the Cardiff Bus logo.

Was once known as Chris the Cool Person.

nashlynda@googlemail.com Lynda is not a famous. Yeti.

c/o square@post.com Gary has yet to become a part of the internet revolution.

b.john@hotmail.co.uk

Square (aka Cool) magazine is produced with the kind assistance of The Welsh Books Council. Printed by Autoprinters Ltd, 107 Penarth Rd, Cardiff CF11 6JT

You can take Bernard out of Cardiff….

nickfisk@email.com Is considering no longer being a part of the internet revolution.

Being A Fan If there‟s one thing I‟m good at, it‟s being a fan. I‟ve always done the sort of things a fan might be expected to do. As a Stone Roses fan, for example, I did things like buying the records the day they came out. In the case of their second album, I even bought it on tape, solely so I could listen to it on my walkman on the way home. I did things like burning a record of a band I saw to be their rivals when they started out (Oasis), and threatening Liam Gallagher at one of their gigs. I did things like sending Ian Brown a pack of fags when he was in prison, and John Squire a painting I‟d done while I was in hospital. Famously, I threw a Cardiff City shirt on stage at one of their gigs, which Ian Brown wore (more of this later).

There is an old cliché that says that as a fan, you should never meet your idols. I think, if they‟re worthy of being idolised, and they don‟t match up to your expectations when you meet them, perhaps that shows they weren‟t so worthy after all. However, if they do meet expectations..well, that just goes to show you were right. Even then, after having admired someone from afar, when you finally meet them, you don‟t really expect things to suddenly seemingly feel more intimate, as it did when I met Ida Maria. I admired her, and her music, but when I got to interview her recently, I didn‟t expect to suddenly start fancying her! That definitely wasn‟t supposed to happen.

If it‟s a part of my DNA, I probably inherit it from my dad. One person I remember him being an admirer of, for example was Clive Sinclair. He had sent off for a ZX80, but got a nice letter back saying they were in fact about to launch the ZX81, and he would be better off buying that, which of course he did. Around a year later, my dad took us to the launch of the ZX82, or ZX Spectrum as it was to be named, at a computer conference in London. As fans, this was an exciting thing to do. My dad later became a fan of Marilyn off Home and Away for her “acting skills” he told us.

When I met John Squire at the opening of one of his recent art exhibitions, I had already met him briefly earlier in the year, so there wasn‟t that thing of meeting him for the first time. Also, I was with someone who wasn‟t so bothered, so that helped. But it was actually all quite ordinary. But I did still get the impression that I was meeting quite an extraordinary person. I sensed that he was trying to get me to talk to him quite naturally, which was nice of him, so when I said it was an honour, it actually sounded a little trite, even though this was how I felt.

themselves, it‟s a song that is so filled with positive energy, & definitely lends itself to encouraging worship. And it wasn‟t just the music the fans loved. It was the attitude, the clothes, the V signs to the establishment. Some might say it had all been done before, but if you were a teenager, as I was, The Stone Roses were exactly what you needed. I remember on one no-uniform day in school, myself and two other boys in the class (including fellow contributor to this magazine, Chris White) all wore Stone Roses t-shirts and flares. The flares I wore were actually an old pair of my dad‟s, rather than the fashionable, baggy Joe Bloggs jeans, which I was mocked a bit for, but I really didn‟t care.

I mean, let‟s face it, worshipping popstars, of whatever type, be it boy bands or death metal bands, is a pretty childish thing to do. I don‟t really feel the excitement as I might have done when I was younger when I go to watch a band I like. And yet, once I‟m there, after a couple of drinks, I do still get the urge to behave in the way a much younger fan might, such as crowd-surfing at recent Primal Scream and My Bloody Valentine gigs. I mean, really – what was I thinking?!

And so it was that, around 5 or so years later, Ian Brown would wear my Cardiff City shirt on stage at a Stone Roses gig in Newport. This event has been talked about a lot, mainly for the fighting after the gig, as documented in the Soul Crew book amongst other places. According to Mani in an interview with a fanzine shortly afterwards:

But there can be few bands since The Beatles who really captured the imaginations and inspired idolatry in the way that The Stone Roses did. After all, the first song on their first album was called “I Wanna Be Adored”. And whether you interpret that as the way Ian Brown and the rest of the band members themselves felt, or the way that their fans then felt about

“This bag fat Welsh valley boy, a big fat smelly greasy man he was, I saw him take his Cardiff away shirt off and he threw it on stage.”

Perfection Three lemons on a white plate, soon to be pie, curd, tagine; Yet my knife hesitates, hovers over the perfection of raw yellow. Kate Noakes

John Squire and Ian Brown There are certain men beyond compare For whom criticism has no real worth. Two men who, if they had a care Could have laid claim to the Earth. If all the world was as a stage, Two men could have played the greatest parts; For them the way was not to rage But pen words from truest hearts And melodies that struck a chord And though John left to follow other things, And though Ian‟s voice was sometimes flawed, They truly were the nineties‟ kings. And let us not forget Reni, Mani and Cressa Without whose genius mankind would be far lesser. Anon

Thanks for the compliment, Mani, but I think I should finally give my side of the story..

Love of Light When putting off the light produces dark and shadows softly melt and dim our view we may consider it is quite a lark to raise a riotous general cry and hue When shouting to our nearest friends and foes about the lack of realistic light we raise our voices and we stamp our toes and enthuse others to the righteous fight Put back the lovely light and live we plea and please don‟t leave us stumbling about ensure dear friends once more that we may see hand not the dark the victory of rout

I‟d gone to the gig wearing a Stone Roses shirt underneath, and a Cardiff shirt on top, perhaps cos I kind of felt that Cardiff were now more important to me than The Stone Roses. Basically, the band had just played what I thought was a cracking version of “Breaking Into Heaven”, and I decided to throw my Cardiff shirt onstage, so that my Stone Roses shirt (a “What the World Is Waiting For” shirt, in fact, the same one I wore to school that time, and the same one I ripped apart after the band split up) was now showing.

Ian Brown picked up the shirt and looked at it. He then lit up a cigarette. I had the impression he was looking at me, so I then lit up a cigarette too (this was in the time when you could smoke indoors, of course). Then Ian put the shirt on. There was a lot of chanting and stuff. I was kind of in shock for a while. He kept it on for about 3 songs before taking it off, if I remember rightly. Afterwards, as the four of us who went walked towards my brother‟s car, we looked round and saw the riot taking place. I had a feeling it had something to do with the shirt, but didn‟t know for certain. I wanted to go back, but my brother decided we should just drive off. And that‟s it really. Never meant to start a riot.

Perceive, sunlight balm, the dawning of the day drive out despair and agony of drab and grey.

But actually throwing the shirt onstage..well, it was just one of those things fans do!

Judy Toms

Nick Fisk

Youth‟s Folly Footnote: If you look close up at the photo of Ian wearing the shirt, you‟ll see what looks like two badges on the sleeves. One is a Heart Foundation badge – I thought it‟d be funny to show I was “wearing my heart on my sleeve”. The other is a metal Stone Roses badge, depicting the Newport shield, which I‟d actually bought that night. My brother bought one too. They‟re quite valuable now – my brother quite often got asked if he‟d sell his while he was in university in Manchester.

Two cherubs lie in the abyss of a winter‟s evening, Words textly flung from his bow. The cot blanket thrown to the tempest Gone to the wind on this changeable time, Never to return to each other‟s or mother‟s arms, Let loose with the lovebug attached, loosely. As seamless young eyes stare and wonder if it‟s the last look. The destiny, their hooks pulled out and ready to be set free To catch their pride, and the threat of deleted numbers Hangs in the air above the concupiscence spent settee. Amanda Lambourne-Jones 26

Insomniac

List

Three am, the wind is sheeting the rain along the street turning the council greens to sodden fields –

If it moves, list it. List like the wind. Let nuances allow no truancies. List though all around you are losing theirs. List until you drop. List on, list on, with notes in your heart. List – and do you want to know a secret? - then list every heart: Loveheart, sweetheart, Lion, and Braveheart. Do not burn, screw, swallow, pulp, shred, or spurn. Take heart; list, and all the world lists with you. List again like we did last summer.

is anyone else awake to see the windows shutter in the storm the traffic signs and streetlights blur or hear the water swirl in the leaf blocked drains? Everything is changed, but the moment – I‟ve been here once before the house silent as the grave, familiar in shadows something waits then it was the future, and everything I would make happen: no one turns above in sleep no one dreams, or pushes the blankets down and what of the morning light? the factory windows are bricked-up the punching machines are gone to scrap all the cities of an old Europe wait to be visited. Is the sky a lighter grey above the roofs of the timber sheds? a lone youth staggers into the estate collar turned up in a feeble gesture and then the piercing scream of an animal caught in the yards: we talked of death that night, the fire growing cold, We die each moment, she said, and this will end too – I thought her crazy.

Snap Dragons - when photos go wrong A white rectangle. A Boot Hill of a thumb. This vertical shot of a shoe. A sundrench. An entirety of sky. These blurs. But taken from where? Why do they keep me? Is there a hidden? Then the crooked shiver diguised as a shrug – the fingers, interring the last of them Phillip Burton 25

It didn‟t matter what our relationship was or wasn‟t. It was a time when people were more careful about such things. I thought I loved Billy and I waited for him to love me too. I look back now and see that we were best friends and that what I was in love with was his family. And that by letting me into their lives, they rescued me. Billy‟s mom died a few years later when we were in college. Billy was at the University of Hawaii by then and I was still home at CSUN, the only place I could afford to be with the help of a tiny bursary for being on the girls‟ track team. Renate had breast cancer at a time when you didn‟t survive from it and you didn‟t talk about it. So when I heard about her death, it was unexpected and it shocked me. I couldn‟t reach Billy in Honolulu so I went to the track and ran for 45 minutes. Running and crying, running and crying.

Prom, to rescue me from the sad rage in my own parents‟ home. She wanted us to marry and she wanted to know, before she sent him to Hawaii so that he wouldn‟t see her die, that he and I would have her grandchildren. He promised her that we would. That day he explained to me what it was like to be the child of survivors. How he felt he could never tell them he was gay. He told me that his father told him, only once, the story of how he got the tattoo: other Jews had held him down and branded him with the dirty blunt needle; how the Gestapo watched and laughed when he cried – eight years old and completely alone. He told me that even when Jack told him the story of his daring escape from the camp (the way they hid in a German forest and later in a sympathetic attic) Billy knew that he couldn‟t live up to that kind of heroism and believed he had no right to confide his own small confusion.

I heard that Jack kind of went nuts after that. He sold the house, gave Billy a wad of money and went back to Germany and married someone else very quickly. Billy did a lot of drugs, lived alone for a long time and then he died of AIDS when we were 26.

That day I finally understood. He thanked me for being his alibi for all those years when we were high school kids and I thanked him for being my rescuer. We kissed the only kiss we would ever share and held hands for a while and then a nurse asked me if I would please go now and let the patient rest.

The last time I saw him he told me that his mother loved me the best of all the friends that hung around their house and used the swimming pool. He said those words: she loved you best, and though I probably already knew the truth of it, it was good to be told. Renate wanted him to take me to the

Barrie Llewellyn

Building Blocks Ah, those old houses first partition and conversion then demolition their great wooden ribs and frames knots of dry rot, three junk joists piled high on bonfires of red and yellow fire large swaths of ground cleared by the wrecking ball the sliced open houses for all to see gable still standing, half-floors sad fireplaces and odd angled staircases: no one cares for history anymore no one is interested in who lived before but in the rooms I occupy a young woman hanged herself with flex from the ceiling plain shoes dancing against the walls – for none to hear – she even put a shilling in the meter yet no one knows for love or despair not even her name is remembered. How do I sleep at night in the stillness? the creak, creak

Tattoo

the swollen black tongue the hardboard covering the hole of the ripped-out meter

Billy‟s dad, Jack, had a tattoo on his arm in a time and place when people‟s fathers didn‟t have tattoos. I never saw it myself, but Billy‟s parents had a swimming pool in their backyard in Mission Hills and some of the other kids told me they‟d seen it when they‟d been out there swimming and Jack was maybe cleaning leaves from the pool or stoking up the barbeque.

on the wall behind my bed-head: to think how easy it would be to bring yourself down in oblivion a pile of broken bricks and dust. Gary Allen

Things were so bad in my own home – the two-bedroom apartment my parents moved to when they lost our house in an economic decline. Not a depression – my dad used to say – a recession. All I knew was that he didn‟t have a job and my mother used to throw things at him: ornaments they‟d had as wedding presents; bills in thick, brown envelopes; knives and forks; bottles of ketchup. I would hear her loud, high-pitched hysterical abuse of him and, whether I stayed in the apartment with them or not, my ears rang with her bitterness. So I used to hide at Billy‟s letting his music and the kindness of his parents drown out the ugly words, the horrible sounds.

Billy‟s parents were the best parents I knew. I called them by their first names – Renate and Jack – and they let Billy decorate his bedroom by letting him paint psychedelic patterns on the wall. Renate bought him the paint and tiny brushes so he could be precise. They also bought him the best sound system that money could buy, with the biggest speakers any of us had ever seen – and we listened to Jethro Tull and Led Zeppelin and every other band of the time. Billy taught me about music while we painted intricate circular patterns in purples, orange, pink and sky blue on creamy walls.

Sabrina Around this headland lies the Severn Sea, your boatman sailed as master. You, his dark haired mistress, he skulls across Roath Basin: Square rigged barques anchor at Cogan Pill staithes, colliers‟ steam to Bute lock gates. He rows you to the peninsular where you were born a dozen years before. Your mother descended to the heart of the Tiger, the hub of King Coal‟s world.

I went there for lunch and stayed for dinner. Most of the time, Renate drove me home at night. The food smelled different from the food in the apartment. It was European and Yiddish: chopped liver; kugel, latkes and knisnishs. Kasha and chicken soup with rice. It was good, so good. Renate tried to teach me to cook, while Billy went back into his room and painted more swirls on the wall and listened to obscure music imported from England. I never wanted to go home and so some nights, sensing my reluctance, she made up a spare bed for me – in the opposite end of the house to where Billy was sleeping.

Now that I think of it Billy‟s dad may have been more careful in front of me, for though I swam in that pool many times, I never remember seeing his arms or the tattoo. He thought I was Billy‟s girlfriend and there was a shyness about him. I stayed at the Zimmerman house even though it was a time when girls didn‟t stay at boys‟ houses.

Bernard John

“Stand Well Back Now There‟s Nothing To See” and then and then,

A bubble wrapped girl With painted stones for eyes walks straight through Into the next world.

A cantata from the Nursery school Exhaling at break time .

Just put one foot in front of the other My love, my love.

Lover‟s Leap

Revenge

„Jump,‟ she said. He said, „No way.‟ „You would if you loved me.‟ „But I do.‟ „Prove it,‟ she said. He still wouldn‟t jump. So she pushed him.

The first thing she sent were his boxer shorts all neatly packaged in gold paper and tied with a red bow. Washing instructions not included.

The Camera Never Lies.

Newton‟s Law

We were pen pals. He sent me his photo and there he was in black and white. We arranged to meet. He had ginger hair.

If you drop an object (say…his computer from a great height) (say… the bedroom window) it will hit the ground unless its fall is broken by another object (say… his head).

Applause

While in „the franchise‟ a man is talking but not listening to himself as he dreams of tasting the Kashmiri spring in the back of his throat again.

All Hail! all hail! Sing the old girls outside Boots the chemist. No husbands now!

For him it was an ineluctable Meditation.

green grow the rushes - o

“that‟s what your lot are good at isn‟t It,” says Mal as he comes uncleanly from the bookies with her phone number burning a hole in his sense of fair play.

Meanwhile in the gents At the Lubianka café, Cindy shoots up into Her reticulated arm. While outside Acting as „look out‟ her lolly pop man crosses himself and hopes to die.

Little, by little, by little. I have a mind too Says Rhondda in the veg shop Holding a zucchini like she did her husband after the vasectomy. While Among unprepared soft fruit Winter flowering Pamela Howls like a wolf.

Bernard Pearson

Lynda Nash

What to do with your Lemon Patch You should have received a Lemon Patch with this magazine. But don‟t just put it in a draw and forget about it! Here are some suggestions as to how to apply it to clothes, bags, etc. You could: a) Stitch it on, by hand, or with a machine b) Stick it on, using some kind of self-adhesive c) Iron it on, using something like wonderweb

On Top of the World

I bought it the day it came out, of course. The first Monday in the April Easter holidays. Bridgend wouldn‟t hear of it until much later, so it was the early train to Cardiff and the beautiful smell of the deep, black vinyl in Spillers that I was drawn to.

The paint splattered guitars, vintage flares, outgrown mop-tops, monkey walking and unshakeable arrogance. This wasn‟t just a band, this was a proper gang taking on the whole world. The Stones with melody, The Clash with style, The Beatles with balls.

I‟d seen them for the first time swaggering to funky drummer beats, with a Hendrix guitar sound-scape and the sweetest, most whispered, mesmeric rock‟n‟roll vocal you could ever wish to hear. They strode the Hacienda stage like Gods and I knew I was at the crossroads with them. I don‟t need to sell my soul, he‟s already in me – that‟s how you steal tunes from the Devil.

In early 1989 I‟d barely turned sixteen and was part of what would later be called Generation X. We‟d grown up through the hell of the 80‟s musical wasteland, but now this was our time, this was our band, our gang and we were to seize the moment with both greedy hands.

But of course, even if you are a heavydrinking, shaggy-haired, cagoule-wearing indie five-piece from Bury and your drummer has a slight cocaine problem, your chances of being declared „Best New Band In Britain‟ are significantly slimmer these days. And it‟s all because of band reunions. If one of the Best Old Bands In Britain gets back together, they can guarantee a New Musical Express cover shot, even if they haven‟t recorded any new music. This is because they are very likely to have shaggy hair and wear coats and, you get the picture.

The Stone Roses set the template for just about every Best New Band In Britain ever since. They were a great band. So, for a time were Oasis, The Libertines, Arctic Monkeys. But the very nature of these bands makes it so that the second album is never is as good as the first, and if they get to a third, it‟s rarely worth the bother. The great thing is that there are always new bands out there to take up the mantle; only now we don‟t get to hear about them because the Best New Bands In Britain are apparently all old. The Stone Roses will not be reforming, and good on them. It‟s time we stopped clamouring for their return and laid the whole idea of the Best New Band In Britain to rest.

And behind all of these bands – both the Best New Bands and the Best Old Bands in Britain – stands the Most Revered Band In Britain (Apart From The Beatles Perhaps Who Most People Are Too Young To Remember Anyway). This is a band whose name is synonymous with a reunion even though they are never going to reform. A band far more popular now than they were when they stood hand in hand on the cover of the NME at the end of 1989, their annus mirabilis, all shaggy hair, big coats and Northern attitude.

Dylan Moore Ed’s view: Maybe Dylan is right, they won’t reform, but I think if they did, everyone who says they won’t would then change their minds and see it as a good thing, and another positive – for once, I don’t think it would be just for money. My view is, The Stone Roses created such a buzz and were so great the music mags HAD to put them on the cover, rather than the other way around, ie. being put on the cover to artificially try to create a buzz as with other “best new bands”. For this reason, I would also debate Dylan’s point that the Stone Roses are more popular now than they were in 1989. For one thing, I’m not sure what it means for a band that is no longer around to now be “more popular”, but the other point is of course – anyone who was around in 1989 can vouch for the fact that they were MASSIVE then!

The cover alone was enough to shake everything before apart, the black and white chaos layered with the scatter gun of what looked like oranges. Sweetness from the apparent carnage below, cut through with the mod symbolism of red, white and blue.

A week later the NME reviewed the Album, it‟s difficult to fathom now but they only gave it 7 out of 10. Even though I‟d yet to hear it, I knew they were wrong. Christ they had to be wrong. 8

The Best New Band In Britain and why The Stone Roses will not be reforming (e) heavy-drinking, and preferably with at least one member having a semi-serious problem with illegal drugs; this is, of course, in no way cool, but increases the likelihood of your band conforming to the archetypal rock‟n‟roll narrative arc.

I feel sorry for new bands. Time was that every three or four weeks the cover of NME would be adorned by a picture of a group of shaggy-haired blokes wearing jeans and trainers beneath the headline „Best New Band In Britain‟. It wouldn‟t matter much if it were true, because the main point of NME was to keep repeating this phrase about every new band until by dint of the law of averages they said it and it was true.

(f) Northern; you don‟t have to be actually from the north, but it helps to have some kind of regional accent that makes you sound like you probably like fighting, football and calling girls „birds‟; if you are southern, or can‟t pretend you‟re not middle-class, you can skip this step by supporting Coldplay and being ridiculed by your Uni mates who write for NME, offsetting the general public perception that you are „bland‟, „mediocre‟ and „wet‟ with your „soaring‟ choruses, sessions on Jo Whiley‟s show and your bulging bank balance.

Of course, your chances of being called the „Best New Band In Britain‟ are not as high as I am making out. Your band‟s chances depend on a number of factors, very few of which are to do with actually being a good band. The odds increase exponentially if you are: (a) blokes: not just male, you have to be a „bloke‟, and have an unmistakable whiff of ordinariness about you.

(g) you must wear a jacket, preferably some kind of cagoule… this rule is non-negotiable; NME readers will not believe you are in a band if you don‟t have your coat on, even inside, though generally, you will be photographed in some kind of „gritty‟ urban environment.

(b) white: you might be allowed one nonwhite band member, but any more and NME will think you‟re probably an R‟n‟B act. (c) shaggy-haired: maximum one curly-head or baldy or crew cut, but preferably all of your members should have the same nondescript one-cut-every-three-months mop.

(h) there is no (h); if your band has another interesting aspect, like beards, or a person who used to be in another band, this is of course an advantage, but don‟t get too carried away with quirkiness.

(d) your sound must be based around guitar, bass and drums - you are allowed a keyboard player or a girl, but this musn‟t be the same person, unless you are Pulp. 20

And as the needle hit the groove, my band – our band played the music we‟d waited all our lives to hear. From the opening salvo of „I wanna be adored‟ through the cry of „No words, to describe the way I feel‟, the shot attack of „Every member of parliament trips on glue,‟ onwards to „I am the resurrection‟ and the wounded, heartbroken fight-back of „Don‟t waste your words, they don‟t mean anything to me‟, this was a music born of a street-love bitterness, creating its own mythology.

watching them on TV appearing on BBC2 in a programme called „Snub‟. I wasn‟t at the crossroads with them, I was in Bridgend painting lurid colours on my jeans and revising for my GCSEs. The story about the NME review is true though, I know as I had it stuck on my bedroom wall for five years. The fact that The Stone Roses first album changed my life is true. The way that I listened to music blossomed, my view of the teenage world grew, my first real experience of love happened and the will to believe that I would eventually be proved right continued to crystallise.

7 out of 10? Dream on NME. The Stones Roses in 1989 meant more to me than any band had before and if I‟m true to myself, more than any band since. They were the very creators of myth and like all legends, bore more stories and half-truths around them as time took us ever further away. Spike Island drew a capacity crowd of 30,000 people, yet I‟d wager that at least a million thirty-something‟s swear they were there that day, with their hooded tops, 21 inch flares and bags of super strength oldskool pills.

Ian Brown was once quoted as saying „If you walk down the street and little kids don’t laugh at you, then you‟re doing something wrong‟, and that was the Roses. Our gang, standing together beyond the crowd, taking on the world and for one glorious album, beating them all. Chris White

Some of these half truths and myths are I confess, mine own. According to Wikipedia, the album was released in March (I always thought it was April, but have more or less confirmed was May 2nd - Ed) so I couldn‟t have bought it on the day it came out. It wasn‟t a lone, dawn, rail voyage to the capital but probably a lift up with my Mum on a Saturday afternoon. I wasn‟t actually at the Hacienda but sat in my parents‟ lounge,

NEW SINGLE – OUT APRIL 1st 9

John Squire – Sound, SW1 Gallery Viewed 09/10/08

This was the third John Squire exhibition I‟d been to, but this was by far the best, quite daring and adventurous in places, and with a lot of variety. The title of the exhibition was Noise, which you might think is an appropriate title for an exhibition of paintings by a musician, but I didn‟t really feel the paintings were portraying or depicting music. The majority of the paintings were covered in words, with loads of short phrases scattered fairly chaotically, so you could say the paintings quite literally spoke to you! The paintings exuded noise, like the chatter in a busy pub, in a way that paintings don‟t ordinarily. It brought to mind a television which would allow you to also smell what was on the screen; these were paintings that you could “hear”.

The SW1 Gallery is situated in an extremely smart, newly developed area near Victoria – all sleek glass and metal, and sexy curves. As myself and Faye – my plus one, and keyboardist with London-based band, Prince Edward Island – approached the gallery, I picked out the figure of John Squire inside, his lank, long hair the easy giveaway, even from a distance. A few words were exchanged with the doorstaff – I hadn‟t brought my invite, and they couldn‟t find me on the guestlist, but they still let us past – and we were in. Looking around, it was difficult deciding which was the most important of three things inside, and which to head for first – John Squire himself, the paintings, or the vast quantities of free booze on tables to our left. Really, a preposterous amount – probably about 30 bottles of Havana rum, about 40 bottles of both read and white wine, about the same number of some interestinglooking bottled beer, and about 80 bottles of soft drinks, probably smoothies.

The interesting thing about the words was that you could only read most of them by going quite close up to them, whereas the best vantage point to view most paintings – especially in the case of the landscape paintings – was from a good few feet back. Faye commented that the words were a bit like song lyrics. I have to say, I didn‟t quite get this myself – they were mostly fairly formless and stuctureless, slightly chaotic, as with their arrangement on each canvas. I kind of got the impression with some of them that if the words represented the artist himself, they showed him to be quite insecure and unsure of himself, but I‟m not sure if this really is how John Squire feels.

We had a quick gander at a couple of paintings, before we caved in, and got ourselves each a glass of red wine, though taking a whole bottle would have easily gone unnoticed! 10

Exactly what tools Squire used, I‟m not sure, but he has clearly learned to manipulate metal well. So often was Second Coming described as the album that “proved” Squire could play guitar (as if there is not enough evidence of his skill on the debut album), perhaps here he is showing that despite being untrained, he has become, with this metal work, artist/craftsman.

The majority of Squire fans who do not have megabucks might still have enjoyed a visit to this latest exhibition though. As it was his first exhibition of sculpture, as far as I know, it was interesting for that reason, and again demonstrates his versatility. Nick Footnote: Coming back on the train, I spotted a small shiny red object on the floor in front of me. I picked it up, and it appeared to be some kind of red tablet, with N400 inscribed on it. I decided to try and bite into it, and the taste was incredibly bitter – it actually stung my throat, almost like poison. Anyway, on my return, I googled N400, and discovered that it was probably a Wobenzym tablet, which is an antiinflamatory. However, curiously, I also discovered on Wikipedia that an N400 is a “response often elicited by semantically inappropriate words in an otherwise acceptable sentential context”, such as the response you might get if you said something like “Women like shopping for shoes and porcupines”. Somehow this seemed relevant to the exhibition.

A lot of these thoughts came afterwards – I didn‟t feel that inspired at the time – and whether anything I‟ve mentioned was intended by the artist, I have no idea. Again, for what they are – smallish pieces of metal – I would say the works are too expensive. I wonder if without all the associated fees they could have been put on sale for less than half the average price of £4000.

Cool Websites

Contributing to Square

squaremag.net – the site for this magazine (also for “Cool” magazine)

Contributions to Square are always most welcome. Please send to square@post.com or to Square Mag, 2 Richmond House, Richmond Rd, Cardiff CF243AR. Poems, short stories, or amusing pieces of writing which you think would fit in the mag all welcome. No theme for the next issue, so send whatever you like. Please note, I have this crazy idea of going “offline” for a while, which would involve closing all email accounts, websites, etc. So please check the squaremag.net website before sending by email. Note also, Square will now be back in August - taking a short break due to a gap in funding from the Books Council (due to my mistake). All contributors receive a free copy of the mag they appear in, plus the next issue free.

boomslangpoetry.co.uk – Kate Noakes‟ site theraconteur.co.uk – site for Dylan Moore‟s new magazine (a rival to Square? Of course not!) philipburton.net – guess whose site this is. pedrocampos.net – excellent site for the artist whose work appears on the cover of this issue. johnsquire.com – great site for all of John‟s art thisisthedaybreak.co.uk – extensive Stone Roses resource site

John Squire – Heavy Metal Semantics (viewed February 3, 2009)

plays with the box rather than the present contained inside, or a collector of Star Wars figures who is also pretty fixated about the packs.

The ArsenalvCardiff match was postponed, but I decided to still make the trip to London nonetheless. This was due in part to the fact that I had a single train ticket from London to Cardiff which I needed to collect from Paddington. Unless I collected this ticket, I would not be able to get a refund, which of course required a trip to London…well, rather than dwell on this conundrum, I thought, what the hell, I‟ll go anyway.

Ultimately of course, boxes of packaging have a limited function, and this exhibition felt similarly utilitarian. Additionally, whereas most people who use packaging as art would use humour, Squire‟s work does not. Each piece is fairly rigid – it doesn‟t look pliable, like real packaging, particularly given the fact each is made of metal. Woman is a single sheet, with the word woman branded on it repeatedly, which might imply being obsessive about women, or a particular woman. Man on the other hand is one of the flattened box pieces, implying that the woman could either cover or “wrap up” the man, or in fact perhaps be folded up and contained inside the man. The fact that, as mentioned, neither piece looks very supple, might mean that perhaps they are meant to be viewed as cold, separate pieces, with no intention of any interaction.

There were, after all, 2 further reasons I wanted to be in London on this day (three if witnessing London‟s “snow event” counted) – former Square contributor, John Mouse, was playing a gig there that night, and John Squire‟s latest exhibition was being shown at the rather plush St. Martin‟s Hotel. Turned out I‟d chosen a good day to visit as his charming agent was on hand to supervise. This exhibition is one of metal sculptures. Predominantly, they show a flattened or partly flattened form of a box or container. I confess to feeling that I didn‟t have much to say about this one. Erm…some were shinier than others…?

Of course, there are layers of deceit in the works. Just as it is difficult to say how a flattened metal box, or a sheet of metal might “represent” a man or woman, at the same time, we are of course being fooled into thinking that what we are looking at is indeed a flattened metal box. It isn‟t of course – as a work of art, it was never made to be a box, just to look like one, and this deception is achieved successfully.

The idea of exhibiting packaging, or displaying what could be packaging as if it were the art itself is of course not a new idea. Perhaps it brings to mind a child who 18

One of my favourite paintings was The Power To Destroy Governments. On the left side of it, there appears to be a giant fire blazing, as if burning up the canvas, or it could equally be viewed as something like a giant golden tap pouring fire into a raging ocean. The title of course really elevates the piece. I also liked the movement of High Speed Chase.

However much you might enjoy Squire‟s art, he is still a long way from being known as an artist, as opposed to being known as a former member of The Stone Roses, and I couldn‟t help but wonder if some of the phrases in the paintings were directed at, or about Ian Brown, and if that was the case, I wondered if this was to give the paintings a selling point to the inevitable Stone Roses fans among the admirers, and potential buyers of his artwork.

You could definitely see that a lot of time and thought had been put into these paintings, and this was respected by whoever had hung the paintings. They were, like my colleague Engleburt Bartfast, well hung. Ahem.

I have to say though, although all the words – the noise, if you like – in the paintings gave each piece interesting texture, they were not the feature of this exhibition which made it so successful. For me, it was the impressive, bold landscapes serving as background to the words. In same cases, like No Cattle, they were very Turner-esque, with similar colours being used, and the same, fabulously illuminating patches of light. But just as The Stone Roses‟ influences were often said to be pretty blatant, and yet they still created amazing new music, so here, Squire is obviously paying homage to Turner, but still making his own mark in a refreshing way.

So anyway, after looking round and being suitably impressed, Faye and I turned our attentions to the artist himself, and managed to angle our way in as he wrapped up a conversation with a couple before us. We each told him how much we liked the paintings, and Faye asked where all the words had come from. Apparently, they were from different sources, overheard conversations, etc. and John had kept a dictaphone on him to record it all. At the time, I thought this sounded very much like how David Gedge sourced his lyrics for The Wedding Present. I didn‟t mention this however, partly because I seem to remember The Stone Roses weren‟t fans of The Wedding Present (or it may have just been Ian Brown), but also, I thought any reference to a band from the same era as The Stone Roses was probably out of bounds too, given that all talk of The Stone Roses is apparently not allowed.

There were some more conventional skies, as in paintings like Equilibrium and Something Like Hatred, which I also liked. The sky in No Longer Did We Worship looks very effective, although was not on view, but in the Sales Sheet.

Personally, I think this is slightly absurd, given that it was of course such a massive part of John Squire‟s life, and the part most people still know him for. I don‟t know, perhaps moving on is the right thing. I think it was also mentioned that Faye‟s band, Prince Edward Island, also use phrases from arguments, etc. in their lyrics.

Anyway, finally, we also got some invites signed. John used the crayon of one of his cute young daughters who were there, sitting on the floor, drawing. John joked that their art was a lot better than his. I suppose you could look at his paintings from a simple level and say that all the words covering them are like childish scribbles on top of the “real pictures”. You could look at them and wonder if they would look more effective without all the writing, but no, I‟m pretty sure the words do enhance the paintings, give them more layers of texture and depth. Along with 3 cool-looking kids, John also has a stunning wife, and a decidedly attractive agent, so it would seem he is lucky enough to be constantly surrounded by beautiful women. Still, I did detect a hint of sadness about him though, although I could be completely wrong about this.

Although I didn‟t mention The Wedding Present, I did decide to show Mr. Squire a photo on my phone of me with Bobby Gillespie, who I‟d bumped into in London by chance a couple of weeks before. This prompted a quick round of photos – one of me and John, taken by Faye, one of John and Faye, taken by me, but I didn‟t get the one of Faye and me, taken by John.

I do wonder exactly why John Squire is doing this (continuing to exhibit new paintings). Most one-time successful rock stars would be happy to hang up their guitars and just collect the royalty cheques for the rest of their lives, save for the odd comeback tour to top up their accumulated wealth. Ok, The Stone Roses only did 2 albums, but even without recording his solo work, perhaps Squire needed to be told then, “John, your work is done.” Perhaps it is his work mentality, or perhaps his creative energy that keeps him going, but whatever it is, John Squire is clearly still very productive, and is currently showing off some of the best work of his career. Nick

Curiously, John Squire said he liked my jacket, which I think of as being relatively plain and ordinary. We wondered afterwards if perhaps we should‟ve complimented him back. I wonder now if perhaps I should‟ve let him have the jacket, just as I‟d offered up my Cardiff City top to Ian Brown at a gig once… 12

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This page (clockwise from top): Haiku No. 4 – Glyn Jones Eden – Martyn Jones White Pitcher, Red Boat, Blue Jug – Sue Hunt Centre Page: (all John Squire) main - Salute, rest (from top) - Dinner, Clothes Shoes Hair Luggage, Glasses, Transportation Front Cover: Lemons & Aluminium – Pedro Campos (for more info see pedrocampos.net) Back Cover: Bye Bye Badman – John Squire

J. Brookes The Dresden Cantata “These poems are lovely and light, sweet and deep” – Steve Dubé – Western Mail “The best book of poetry I have read for some considerable time” – Idris Caffrey

Nick Fisk Daimunz R 4E4 New edition

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