LCMS VICES issue by Less Common

ISSUE 24

Cover photography Franรงois Rocquemont Models Alice Nebel (front, inside) Jonathan Moyler (inside) Samuel Connor (back)

MASTHEAD Editor Nora McLeese

Creative Director Shinji Pons

Deputy Editor Laura Borner

Copy Editor Francesca Cotton

Features Editor Joel Plaja

Editor-in-Chief Benedict Butterworth

Printed by Stephens & George Print Group Less Common More Sense is an arts magazine produced by the University of the Arts London Students Union

worrying kind

waste is

pop culture

wander lust

simonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s sins

leaving behind

pop is a battleground sugar rush

editor’s

letter Sometimes I wish I were Catholic so I could repent for my sins, no questions asked. Don’t hold it against me, but I wouldn’t be opposed to seducing a priest if I’m guaranteed a clean slate. That said, maybe I should reevaluate taking my cues from Britney Spears.

Luckily, we’ve got a piece that tells us not too worry too much about our secret shames (The Worrying Kind, page 3) and a photo story on page 22 that encourages us to leave it all behind.

You could always run away on a motorcycle like Russ Malkin It’s true. Pop music is one of my vices. (Wanderlust, page 14) and truly The genre is usually referred to as a escape. Just be weary the addiction guilty please for a reason. Of course, to adventure and adrenaline doesn’t listening to the likes of Britney or One become a whole new vice. Direction is hardly on the same level of severity as, say, murder. Ain’t no I guess it’s impossible to live in a one killing anyone softly with their world without vices. That’s what song here. But as the girls of ’90s we’re exploring – and dare I say – dance revival duo War of Words say in celebrating in this issue. We’ve all their interview (Pop is a Battleground, done things we regret. Our cover page 26), ‘pop’ isn’t a dirty word model’s LCMS tramp stamp would either. probably fall into that category. But it doesn’t make us bad people. As far as real miscreants go, we had our gonzo journalist extraordinaire Sure, I’m approaching that age where go around London to commit each of my questionable behavior is reaping the seven deadly sins (Simon’s Sins, more significant consequences. page 17). Braving the likes of Soho Maybe I should start to lay off the peep shows and – gasp! – all you can weeklong benders. Lots of us are eat buffets, he’s certainly a bit worse entering the real world soon and with for wear. that will come its own set of vices. We should be making mistakes and learning from them. Even if it’s our music tastes. For now, we’re still young. Let us indulge. Enjoy,

The

worrying kind

By Laura Hayward

Vices. It’s a funny word. To me, vices are habits, ways of living, routines, guilty pleasures, unhealthy indulgences. Something that may make the daily rules of living a little bit more exciting, a bit easier, a systematic way of thinking and believing and behaving that you just can’t stop. Vices can be hard work, the kind of thing that causes frustration and anger and disappointment once the action or thought or process has been carried out. Vices can be upsetting and irritating and disturbing. Some people have vices and they don’t even realise, others know they have them and are well aware that they shouldn’t be doing them. But they need to do them to make things that bit easier, simple, less stressful. And modern day living is full of stress, and so people pick up these habits to try and cope that little bit easier. Oh, what a cynical start!

So yes, you’ve got ‘common’ negative vices, such as drink, drugs, alcohol, food, dangerous sex or sexual patterns—all those things in life that can be normal or extravagant or extreme or unwholesome. Things that people do to help forget anxieties, stresses, worries, but if doing for that very reason, can often make the very problem they were trying to cover more intense in the long run. However, what I’m interested in is the vice of worrying, of mental patterns. Thoughts, ideas and ways of doing things to control feelings or situations. Patterns that can be damaging, addictive, destructive, hurtful, empowering, dangerous. Vices that corrupt the individual, that can cause harm and make life challenging. From my own experience, and from talking to close friends and people of my age group around me, it’s not so uncommon.

But those types of vices are too basic. C’mon. We live in London, in a busy, bustling cosmopolitan city, and no one really wants to read a couple of hundred words on the vice of having a puff on a fag or of taking some MDMA. And I most certainly don’t want to write it. And yes of course you can have positive vices too, explaining and listing how some routines are beneficial, and enhance someone’s mood and therefore their way of life.

Starting with myself, I’ve gone through a very painful and frustrating time where I worry about EVERYTHING. Everything! Literally E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. It will get to the point where I have a worry, I think ‘holy f***’ that’s a bit scary, and then I completely forget what I was worrying about because I’ve worried about just about everything I can worry about. So my brain starts to hurt and my heart beats faster and I feel tense, afraid, stupid, nervous, silly, incapable, upset, frustrated, annoyed, angry, irritated…. Yeah. That kinda thing. Not fun. Not worth it. Not helpful. And how many times in that sentence did I mention worry? BUT then I realised… worrying had become my vice. Like I actually couldn’t think that I could ever live a life free from worry. Oh just how corny! BECAUSE if I worry, then everything will be ok. Because I’m worrying about it, it won’t happen. Because I’m controlling it with my thoughts, I’ll keep it far away. But I had to say to myself, oh no little lady, it really doesn’t work like that. Because worrying gets you nowhere, (well apart from feeling all those pretty unsatisfying emotions above). But worrying had become my vice. My self destructive, indulgent, unrealistic, guilty pleasure. When I was stressed, it would get worse, and when I was not stressed, it would still be there because that’s how I’d programmed my brain, that’s how I was working and training my head muscle, so to speak. The problem is, I think we need to open the hell up about our vices, talk about them, sing them, shout them, kick, spit and hit at them. IT’S OK to have some crazy vice like worrying about every stupid little detail of life until your brain feels like mashed potato. THAT’S OK. Vices get dangerous, and poisonous, because people are scared or embarrassed to talk about them. So we need to break down those barriers, shed that layer of disapproving judgment and look deep inside ourselves because it’s what us humans do to survive.

Vices have a stigma, because it’s not socially acceptable to have any sort of problem. It’s not possible to be achieving in life and having some weird habit as well. Are you crazy? Of course it isn’t. Paaaaah. I’ve got a wonderful, wholesome, intelligent friend who is at one of the top universities, doing one hell of a challenging degree, and who to look at you would not know a single tiny thing is wrong. Not at all. Ha. She’s got a whole list of vices. Hair pulling, finger nail biting, skin gnawing, eye brow plucking, toe picking and spot squeezing. What a greedy chic! She can’t just have one, she’s gotta have a whole collection. Cheeky.

I guess what I’m trying so desperately to point out is that when you’re young, a student and away from home, you’re beginning to form who you are and how you handle things and the kind of person you want to be. All this stuff is definitely very clichéd, but it’s clichéd for a reason. Vices like these can develop if you find adjustment hard, if coping with the demands of being an independent person in your own right and studying and persevering and trying to do well in your academic lives, as well as navigating your way round a complex city and all of the other things that young people have to do can just feel too much. Well it can be hard, can’t it? Which is why developing some habits to cope, whatever they may be (and, my friends, the lists are long, so it’s no point listing all the possibilities over eight double page spreads; if you’ve got a little bit of an unhealthy vice, and you’ve come to the end of this article, you’re gonna sure as hell know) is not so surprising really, and not so forbidden or unbelievable or something to be ashamed of. The main thing is you realise it, and you’re going to try to slowly change it. And if that requires some form of help, or a bit of time out to have a look at the way you act and come to realise that it isn’t beneficial or constructive and begin to try and change it, or even recognise it, then you’re one step closer to beating that vice, the habit or routine that is not necessarily causing you to flourish, but to be held back. And so the journey of life continues without them, changing them, to become even stronger in a way that doesn’t have to include a destructive pattern of behavior—that horrible little vice.

WASTE IS Waste in the fashion and textile industry is not always obvious or visible. It is hidden behind corners, in our bins and closets. The rapid increase in production and consumption over the past few decades has increased the amount of garments deemed out of trend and unusable. We are addicted to waste because we are addicted to the ‘new’. The formerly precious, bespoke, customised, and loved are on a fast fashion track to the landfill. ‘Waste is _____’ is an a(wear)ness campaign that promotes considerate consumption. All clothing seen was redesigned and repurposed from old, found and thrifted garmets by Fashion and the Environment students: Alicia Grunert Coco Noordervliet Emily Pascoe Liz Spencer

Photographer: Yannick LaLardy Makeup and styling: Bobbi Ross Model: Aby Sloan

‘Pop Culture’ Madeleine Lithvall BA Fashion Illustration

WANDERLUST Filmmaker Russ Malkin talks to Joel Plaja about circling the globe on a motorBikE, breaking records and his insatiable thirst for adventure

arely twenty minutes into the interview I have somehow already found myself agreeing to travel around the world on a London double-decker bus. Sitting in front of me is a man who has crossed the globe on a motorbike, made a feature film in a world record thirteen days and will later claim to have invented a new form of transport. Russ Malkin’s enthusiasm is infectious and it is easy to see why his adventure travel documentaries have become so successful. Although he is best known for organising and directing Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman’s trans-global motorcycle epic The Long Way Round, the series was merely the tip of the iceberg for this adventure aficionado. As we chat in the living room of his south west London home, sipping

Photos courtesy of Russ Malkin

coffees, Malkin is clearly at ease and confident in his own skin. In fact, I imagine this is not the first time he has been in this situation, talking excitedly about possible trips. “I’m totally about ideas in action, I would have had a go at it, I still might,” he muses, after mentioning his idea of going round the world on a Routemaster bus. “Lets do it! You’ve got to be careful, over cup of tea or a bottle of wine anything can happen.” In fact, if he had suggested that we leave the next day I probably would have gone right home to pack. Although his interest in adventure travel was first ignited when he was 24 and drove around the UK with his friend and girlfriend in a retired black cab, it was not until he got involved with the Orient Express Challenge that he began thinking of

filming his expeditions. “When the train left Victoria station we would race it down to Venice in sports cars,” he recalls. “I hired a TV production company to do some work for me. They didn’t do it very well but I watched them work and thought its not actually that complicated, I could do that. So I set up my own production company because I’d rather keep everything under one umbrella.” Since that decision, that umbrella has unfurled even further. Malkin now owns his own company, Big Earth, which is the culmination of years of tweaking a business model that combines his passion for adventures, filming and an ability to get people behind his ideas. He explains that the concept came about simply because he likes the earth. “I’m fascinated by

maps and globes, so I thought about which words mean something to me. And that’s how the name Big Earth came about, it was just something that came out of me.” It is Malkin’s enthusiasm for sharing his passion that is the driving force behind Big Earth, which led to publishing a book, 101 Amazing Adventures. Used to similar titles, where a wellknown personality endorses a book such as this, I ask how many of the adventures he has done himself. He smiles and takes a long sip of his tea. “I did 85 of the 101 adventures.” I am genuinely impressed. “The publisher said I didn’t have to do any of them at all. But I said no, I wanted to have some integrity behind the book. The idea behind it was to encourage people to go off and do their own adventures, which I feel very passionately about. I still look at the book with pride.” As a father, though, how does he manage to balance his career? Surely

it must be difficult when he has a job that involves being away from home so much? The answer, he explains, is to get your family involved. “When we did the book I wanted to do the Pacific so I did New Zealand, Vanuatu and the Cooke Islands,” he says animatedly. “I took Emily [his 16 year old daughter] and my girlfriend down and they helped me film and take photographs.” The pleasure he clearly gets from involving his daughter lies also in his belief that he is providing her with something missing from most children’s lives. “I’m actually quite interested in an adaptation of Big Earth, called Little Big Earth, like what could kids do in the world and adventures for kids,” he explains. “I tend to think that there is something wrong with our education system in this country. Everyone’s got a degree and it’s like people have had their personalities ironed out of them, because that’s what happened at my school.”

It is a testament to the man and his ability to take on a seemingly impossible number of projects that he is able to build a highly successful career while managing to enjoy a healthy family life. I get the impression that it is simply because of how much he enjoys being involved. It was because of this enthusiasm that meant he and a friend were able to set a Guinness World Record for making a feature film, from scratch, in just thirteen days. “We were having a bottle of red wine, or maybe two, and he said I’ve always wanted to make a feature film. So I said let’s do it. We ended up having 600 people working on it and were put up for a technical Oscar.” To this day it is a record that still stands and is a testament to Malkin’s outlook on life. “I call it stupid optimism, that everything will work out and let’s just do it,” he laughs. Therefore, when he met Charley Boorman at a party in Chelsea, their shared obsession for motorbikes

and similar personalities meant that what happened next was perhaps inevitable. “I had managed to persuade a TV company to commission me to do this show called Under Wraps which was about every motorcycle company in the world. So I did Harley Davidson in America, Royal Enfield in India, Benelli in Italy, all of them,” he explains. “I had literally just come back from that trip and that night there was a party where I bumped into him. We started talking about motorbikes and he said that he wanted to go round the world with a mate of his. So we were having a few glasses of wine and I gave him my card.” It was not for a further two months after the party, though, that a real plan began to develop. “He phoned me up and asked if I remembered him, I said yeah, how are you getting on with it [the trip]?

He said: ‘Fine, fine, but first off the mate of mine is actually Ewan McGregor.’ So they came round, said what they wanted to do and to cut a long story short we did it.” Malkin, along with a support crew, followed and filmed McGregor and Boorman as they traveled from London to New York on their motorbikes, through eastern Europe, Russia, Kazakhstan, Mongolia and across to Alaska, Canada and finally the USA. The series was very well received and the success of the programme and coinciding book came as a shock to the team, who didn’t anticipate such positive feedback. “I think it sort of built up this cult following and we were gobsmacked. So it did change my life because people wanted us to do other stuff and it opened the door [to other projects].” This leads me to the question I have been waiting to ask. Is there

a Long Way Up, a third motorcycle adventure, in the pipeline? “I think Long Way Up is the biggest rumour. The answer is I don’t know. I think it is going to happen but if I can be honest it was always going to be a trilogy,” he says. “It’s down to Ewan but I also think that it’s the last one and when it’s done it’s done.” And after that? What is there left to accomplish for someone who has achieved as much as he has? The answer, while staggering to most, seems plainly obvious to a man who has just one final aspect of travel left to conquer. “I’ve invented a brand new way of transport,” he says matter-of-factly. “I can’t tell you about it but I have got it, it’s designed and I’m starting to show people.” I must appear shocked, because he gives me a knowing smile and says: “But I shall let you know how it develops, because I want to make a TV show out of it.”

SINS Simon’s

Gonzo journo extraordinairE Simon Childs goes around

London to commit all seven deadly sins in JUST one day “If you’re tired of London, you’re tired of life”, or so the saying goes. I have lived in London my entire life, except for a three year stint where I headed to an archetypal working class post-industrial town in the north in the pursuit of knowledge. Having found it, I came back to the Big Smoke. Ah London! Where you can’t move for culture and interesting things to do. You can barely spit without hitting a French drag queen that owns a concept coffee shop handing out flyers for an avant-garde dance symposium. OK that never happened, but you get the point - London is shit-hot for culture and all that. I’m not tired of London - not by a long shot. But somehow I find myself tired of life. Recently I’ve become rally dragged down by a sense of ennui. “What is the point of being?” I ask myself. And why are all these people so fucking dreadful? With this in mind I decided to do something about it. What’s that you say? Take a proactive attitude towards each and every day, get your 5-a-day, regular exercise and set yourself achievable goals? Sure, I could do all

Photos by Simon Childs and Joel Plaja

that, but it sounds like a lot of effort, and it probably wouldn’t make a very interesting article. Instead I decided to make the best out of London by doing all seven of the deadly sins in one day, because we all know that sinning is a short-cut to fun. Here’s how I got on… First stop on my journey to the heart of darkness was LUST. A lot of men find it difficult to concentrate on anything else until this base desire has been satisfied so I suppose it made sense to get it out of the way. Remember, we’re on a budget, so we went to a £2 peep show in Soho. Before I went in I really didn’t know what to expect. I am of a generation that gets its narcissistic jollies in the privacy of home. Going to see a sex show IRL seemed seedy. But why? Surely the morality is the same. I suppose the internet allows you to disconnect from the real person that you’re watching get

fucked and pretend that she’s just a jumble of pixels there for your viewing, jerking, cumming pleasure. I guess I just admitted in writing that I watch porn sometimes. Awkward. Or is it even remotely taboo at all? I guess the fact that I need to ask suggests that there is some level of taboo. And despite this I consider myself a feminist. Am I the biggest hypocrite ever? Thing is, I know really proper feminists who watch porn. I mean people who go to meetings and arrange bigger meetings and march and campaign and stuff. I suppose there’s nothing inherently wrong in watching other people screwing for pleasure. But when one of the people is being made to pretend that she’s a horny exhibitionist, yet really is only there because she can’t afford to pay the rent and is fairly likely to be on the end of some kind of mental abuse or physical violence, encouraged to take drugs, and God knows what else at some point in her career, it starts to overshadow the intent…

Back to the peep show. I’m guessing most people don’t know what actually happens at one of these things, so here it is: You enter a corridor that is flanked by cubicles. The receptionist who has just looked at you like you’re a pervert (and let’s face it, you are), goes behind a screen to tell the model that there are customers. You enter the cubicle, which is like a toilet cubicle but with just enough room to stand, and a thin wooden door behind it with no lock. In front of you is a frosted pane of glass. You put your coins in the slot, like an arcade game, and the frosted pane goes clear. Out comes a stunning model, wearing nothing but a garter belt. She sits on a stool under dim lights and starts touching herself, bending over, spanking her perfect arse, shaking what her mother gave her and generally looking like she should be in a rap video, all while looking really incredibly bored.

Was it sexy? I barely had time to find out. After about a minute the screen frosts over again and the penny drops as to how they actually make their money. If you wanted to get yourself off to this you would probably end up spending double figures, and this magazine’s expense account is less than generous. Indeed, it’s less than in existence.

were dashed when I realised we were actually going to Las Vegas, Soho… London — a crappy slot machine emporium.

to cultivate your very own gambling addiction.

Then it was time for SLOTH, but to be honest, we couldn’t be bothered Dejected, I sat at the roulette “table” – to think of anything. Shuddup! in reality a computer game with poor Journalism is hard and we couldn’t graphics. There were no secret agents be bothered, OK?! So we went to the or super-villains to toe to toe with, no nearest park to enjoy a beer. glamorous girls in ball gowns to flirt All this sinning was making me with. Just me, a screen, and some silver coins. Luckily the minimum bet hungry. It was time to stuff my fat Overall I think the peep show fails face in the name of GLUTTONY. was 2p. First time around I placed a even in its own objectifying terms. few 10p bets and the house won. I I wouldn’t particularly encourage I rocked up to the restaurant in my took a different approach the second anybody to bother with an “ironic” suit. Why? Well hello, Mr. PRIDE, and time around, remembering the wise visit for “banter”. I guess it made aren’t you looking fabulous tonight? words of George Bush: “Fool me me think about the model. Who once shame on... Shame on you... You Yes. Yes I am. Because I am wearing is she? What are her dreams? Her an expensive suit that I bought to last aspirations? What does she like to do fool me. You can’t get fooled again.” me the next ten years of weddings, on a lazy Sunday afternoon? At least job interviews and high-class sexual I sprayed the wheel with 2p it was real in that respect. encounters. So that’s approximately bets. I couldn’t lose, it seemed 20 weddings, four botched job mathematically impossible. But I didn’t have much time to ponder somehow I managed it. For my third interviews and maybe a novelty wank this as I moved from one sordid den on a bored Sunday afternoon. to another. For it was time for GREED. go I tried both tactics with a mixture of 2p and 10p bets. Bingo! I had won. Handsome though I felt in my All of 20p. I held my winnings aloft When my editor told me we were finery, I was sweating buckets – and quit while I was ahead, having going to Las Vegas and she would wool not being the best choice for pay for my costs to gamble I couldn’t spent £3 and won 20p of it back. a muggy London afternoon. You That’s the way to do it – it doesn’t believe my luck. Alas, my dreams of rolling with the big boys of gambling pay to toy with fate when attempting know a good cure for feeling hot and

uncomfortable? Eating much too much salty, fatty food! Nothing gets rid of the heat sweats like the meat sweats. Our eatery tonight was Jimmy’s World Grill in Wimbledon, an all-youcan-eat buffet. Having briefly worked in catering, these places fill me with dread. I have seen the logistical nightmare that is catering on a mass scale, and the blood, sweat and tears that go into it (I’m talking real blood, real sweat, real tears. And burns. But worst of all is the unglamorous drudgery of a kitchen). If people knew what goes on behind the scenes at a restaurant people would look at them in a rather different way. I won’t bore you with the details here, but for further reading check out George Orwell’s ‘Down and Out in Paris and London’. Not to mention the environmental and animal rights issues. I reported on an anti-GM protest full of hippies and eco-warrior vegetarians last week. The general line from the press was that these people were crazy, but looking at the buffet I could see true insanity before my eyes. Luckily I was hungry. On the tube to the restaurant my stomach started growling. I was also thirsty, needing a wee and, like I said, sweating. It was one of those moments where most of your organs are screaming at you: “What the hell, man?!” Like a Sim who’s bars are all deep in the red. “You’ll get what you want soon enough you ugly bastard”, I thought to my stomach. “And then you won’t know what’s hit you.” Because let’s be clear, at a buffet you are not there to pleasure your body. You are there to put it through its paces. To stretch to the limits your body’s capacity to enjoy food so that next time you go to a proper restaurant you are better able to enjoy it. In we went and sat down. The waiter took our drinks order and said “you serve yourself food”, which sounded oddly like a threat. I took it slow at first with a mere spring roll, chicken satay, chicken dim sum and a couple of ribs, to warm myself up. Then it was on to the mains. I decided to mix

it up with a chicken korma, lasagne, some Chinese ginger fish thing, rice, a poppadum and a prawn cracker. My dining partner (hi Dan!) commented on the poor quality of the prawn crackers. This says a lot – pick out one element of the meal as especially bad means that these prawn crackers really were dire. After two courses it was time for a pallet cleanser. But there’s nothing that civilised here, so I decided to go for the opposite. At the fresh pasta station and had the nice man make me a carbonara, which wasn’t at all bad, but needlessly filling. Next up I went for a couple of classics – sweet and sour chicken and a Thai green curry. Unfortunately they were both terrible. The wrongness of the situation dawned on me as I burped. It tasted like a mix of carbonara and sweet and sour. I don’t think I’ve ever had a less pleasant burp in my life. It was like an out of body experience. I could look at myself and see my folly. But I had to continue. Dessert. Now, my shoddy journalism once prompted a fan to comment on one of my articles: “send your CV into Burger King”. Well, Lee Dennis Ellis, I think you’ll agree that my decision to make my dessert look like a penis displays a level of sophistication and wit well above that of your average burger flipper. Ayethankyou.

Can’t we do the same here? No wait, that sounds a bit horrible, and I’m not a violent person. But Royals, can you just quietly fuck off please so that we can turn Buckingham Palace into a homeless shelter? We’ll give Her Maj a state pension to live off – you can’t say fairer than that, can you? Oh yes, she had to burn. And oh, yes, I realise the irony that by purchasing this post card we had helped the ridiculous argument that at least the Royals bring in tourist money (next time we want a head of state, let’s make it Madame Tussaude’s). Like Guy Fawkes, I struck a match and watched as the flames licked higher and higher. Is this legal? Too late to think about that now. This is card, and paper burns pretty good, my friend. Turns out card doesn’t burn that well, actually. Shit. I tried to make the whole thing burn for ages but somehow the Queen’s face survived. The Monarchists are right! She is some sort of super-being. I was holding the proof in my hands! The Monarchy lives to fight and inbreed for another generation. Hurrah! So, dear reader, thus ended my tour of the seven sins in London. Anti-climatic huh? “But wait”, you’re thinking. “What about ENVY?”

Well, I was guilty of the sin of envy pretty much every time I did anything on this adventure. I envy the people Apart from making desert choices that I could fashion into penis shapes, who can take advantage of the fun things life gives us without thinking I had a really gelatinous strawberry about the consequences. A peep cheesecake and the weirdest ice cream I’ve ever had. Gluttony was not show? Sure! Who gives a shit about the wench behind the screen? And my favourite. buffets are the best – factory farming Before I left the restaurant I pondered FTW! my next sin with relish – WRATH. Do I want some new clothes? Only Since it’s the Jubilee, and every the finest that child labourers in the idiot in this stupid country is busy Orient can provide! celebrating hundreds of years of genocidal imperialism, hierarchy The truth is, I have quite a strong and class privilege, I thought it was moral code. It’s just that I’m really bad time to offer a small token of scorn at living by it. This makes me both towards the royals. a condescending, judgemental twat and a drone-like moral blank at the I mean seriously, most of the rest of same time. For this reason I am the Europe has woken up and strung up biggest sinner of all, for I am guilty of their royals from the nearest tree or the sin of being a douchebag. guillotined them to a bloody pulp.

LEAVING BEHIND

Meike M端nck BA Fine Art, Chelsea

POP is a battleground

Nineties revival duo War of Words tell Nora McLeese how ‘pop’ isn’t a dirty word and how they would rather let the music do the talking A pair of high-heeled black kiltie loafers stomps down the spiral stairs. The metal clangs loudly with each step. Suddenly they come to a halt.

early ’90s dance music and wanted to make an album that’s kind of got that vibe about it, but still bringing something new.”

“I can’t come down,” says a voice belonging to the torso and set of legs that are visible. The legs decide to retreat back up the stairs but make another effort to come down seconds later. No success this time either.

What she’s wearing is the perfect example of duo’s the 1990s-meetsnow esthetic. Burnished, black spandex leggings that evoke Saltn-Pepa are paired with a shredded Christina Aguilera t-shirt. A single cross earring screams George Michael. That’s certainly a whole lot of musical references in just one outfit.

I’m waiting in the basement of Waterloo’s ScooterCaffè for up-andcoming pop duo War of Words. One of the establishment’s quirks is the half dozen cats roaming around at their leisure and napping on the array of motley chairs and couches. Unfortunately, this posed a problem for Lucy Duffield.

While they were a bit young to have experienced when the likes of Neneh Cherry and Black Box – who they cite as influences – were at their peak, the girls fondly remember ’90s music from their childhood. (Neither hesitated to declare Geri Halliwell as their favourite Spice Girl.) Both got more into early ‘90s dance music a little later on.

While bandmate Abi Browning paraded into the joint with brash enthusiasm, briefly apologizing for running late, Lucy was paralyzed at “In the early ’90s, we were quite the sight of a cat curled up at the bottom of the stairs. We’d have to find young but for some reason I remember all of them. I don’t know another interview location. why – I just love it,” said Abi, recalling what she grew up listening to. “But Settling into another, less eccentric my dad loves, like, Thin Lizzy and the café down the road brought some Rolling Stones.” So her musical tastes jokes at Lucy’s expense, along with lots of apologies from the girl herself. came out of personal pursuit. Ace of Base, another one their “I should probably just start influences, has been heavily saying I’m allergic,” she says at the referenced in pop music over the past suggestion that ailuophobia is an few years – Lady Gaga’s Alejandro extremely unusual reason to derail an interview. Abi adds that it certainly come to mind – but the girls are crafting their own identity, pairing make for a good story. of dance music beats with soulful R&B vocals. Part of their image was The girls, both 23, meet a few years coming up with a name. ago and found that their voices blended well together. They’ve been “It took so long to decide on that,” on the music circuit ever since. laughs Abi. “It was like the hardest “We just got on really well, didn’t thing to do.” we?” says Abi. “Our voices just “We definitely didn’t want anything blended so well together. It just kind involving ‘girls’ or ‘babes’,” explains of happened. We both really liked

Lucy. “When we wrote Battleground, we saw it. And then the logo is ‘WOW’ – so that worked and we just stuck with it.” They settled on the poignant lyric from that song, one of two singles they put out in January. The other single, Panic, includes the lyrics “like a cat caught in the headlights,” which brings giggles and a touch of embarrassment on Lucy’s face when mentioned. “It’s called Panic for a reason, innit?” she says. It’s evident the girls really do write about what they know. As many pop songs do, Panic and Battleground both deal with the topic of love – but from different ends. The first describes the terror of entering into a new relationship while the latter questions whether a relationship is worth the conflict.

Patterson. “Quite lucky, really,” quips Abi about their opportunity to work with such pop heavyweights. In January, they put out the two singles mentioned on Popjutice Hi-fi, the record label run by music journalist Peter Robinson through his Popjustice website. “They just said that they liked our stuff and we went to a meeting with them. Our management had the idea of releasing the singles through their label and they really liked it,” says Abi of how they landed that partnership.

Luckily they don’t considered “pop” a dirty word and are happily labeled as such. It’s not a shameful guilty pleasure to them – it’s what they do. “Pop is just popular music,” Lucy points out. (We can imagine, they’d love to have their music resemble this truer definition.) However, the “When we first wrote Panic, we were girls are quick to add that they aren’t manufactured. Don’t call them a both coming into a relationship and we were having these feelings – that’s girlband either. They believe their what we wanted to write about,” says organic development will be the key to their survival – unlike the handful Lucy. “We in a different stage now. of try-and-fail female pop duos that The new songs are gonna be more have littered the music landscape about what we’re going through over the past few years. now.” About two years ago, they were introduced to Ben Langmaid – best know as “the other one” from La Roux – at a party. The duo started crafting songs with him and another songwriter named he work with Jeff

“With those girls you can tell – and I’m sure they’re nice enough girls – they were put together. Their songs were written for them. They’re so manufactured, it just doesn’t seem real,” says Lucy. “I think, with us, that it’s real. We sing and write about things that happened to us and that we both can relate to.” The music videos accompanying the singles show a very stylized, stoic duo – letting the music and vocals do all the work. “I think they’re quite different. I

Photos courtesy of War of Words

haven’t seen anything that looks like it,” says Lucy of the videos. “There’s kind of an arty, retro feel to them which is popular at the moment. I like that. I think we’ll carry on that vibe. “If we start you like that – if we start out quite reserved – at least we’ve got somewhere to go. We can develop personality.” Even though the girls want to move more towards dance music, don’t expect any dance routines from them. “We don’t even want dance moves that’s gonna take away. Cause it’s about the voices and the music,” explains Abi. “Yeah, no booty shaking. You can’t really do that with Battleground anyway,” adds Lucy. R&B-style vocals will still be emphasized. It’s what their voices do best. They still have the road ahead. An album is in the works and gigs are starting to pick up. The girls want to release the album through a different record company and leave the Popjustice Hi-fi’s singles parade behind - without upsetting Peter Robinson of course – to have a more significant campaign and release. With Ban Langmaid at the creative helm, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. “Of course, we hope that we keep Popjustice’s support,” says Abi. No doubt they will. In an ocean of hollow and flashy pop, the duo is combining their on-trend throwback style with a distinct commitment to substance. Such was evident when Lucy pulled out a pair of white AllStars from her bag on the way to the tube station. “I can’t continue to walk in these heels,” she says. “My feet hurt so much.” The pragmatic popstar emerges. These girls are certainly not lacking in style, but sometimes real life takes over. Visible wear and tear on Lucy’s trainers hints that she’s done this comfort switcheroo before. And who hasn’t? Popstars. They’re just like us.

sugar rush By Rasa Jusionyte I am addicted to food. Sadly, it’s not much of a confession to make. I have never heard of food addiction groups where you can talk about your issues or 24-hour telephone helplines.

sometimes, but I’d rather control it. Stopping myself from having the last spoon resembles fighting the darkest demon. Not having the last – and what I consider to usually be the best – bits of the meal makes it even more delicious.

It took me a great deal of time to realise something was really wrong about the way I approached food, and I wasn’t always like this. My grandmother grew up in extreme even more to admit it. poverty, suffering from hunger daily. For her, food is an expression of love. I simply can’t live without food. I think about it constantly. Sometimes, ‘Less is more’ does not exist. it occupies my mind to such an extent that I can’t bare it. Before I fall asleep She is also a terrific cook and as I child I had the best dinners you could at night, I plan my meals for next imagine. However, I was always day and jump out of the bed in the morning because the breakfast idea I forced to eat much more than I actually needed and somehow, she have in my head is driving me crazy. taught me the wrong lesson: eat until you feel happy, not until you are full. Then, seven months ago, my friend Often the darkest demons are born was told she had a candida, which is out of love. a type of fungus that often is found in the digestive tract. Certainly a very unpleasant thing to have living inside My friend’s doctor made us a list of ‘dos and don’ts’ that included only one’s body. full meals in exceptionally small portions, entirely without sugar or Part of the treatment my friend had wheat. The sweetest thing we could to undertake was to completely cut have was a sour apple. One per day, sugar out of her daily diet. I was of course. The first week was rather cycling home from the gym one fun. It was new. I only had to talk sunny autumn afternoon after she myself out of having vanilla lattes and had been given this prescription, hide a new pack of blackberry tea. when it hit me – why not to try it as well? I decided to go 40 days without Then it became a real challenge and sugar. we had to get creative with our food choices. It was aubergine season, so My addiction to food is different. that became a meal staple. I don’t overdose. I might gorge

It took me some time to realise that sugar consumption is an addiction. Like drugs or booze, it’s something we can live without but our cravings get us addicted. Sex is a serious addiction too, but you can sort of survive without that too. But you can’t live without food, much of which contains an incredible amount of sugar, giving us a quick energy boost and triggering the want – sometimes the need – for more. If that’s not an addiction, I don’t know what is. I kept a blog about my sugarless days because I believe there is an important social element in taking on a challenge like this. In the middle of the 40 days without sugar, I started to notice changed in myself. During the second week, we constantly felt down, suffered a lack of energy and had serious concentration issues. Over 14 days, I had lost four kilograms and none of

my trousers fitted me anymore. My switched back to normal. My body pyjamas looked more like a spaceship managed to familiarise itself with a than sleepwear. change and adjust accordingly. Now I was finally getting to know myself I remember us wandering around in all possible means. Moreover, I Elephant and Castle one morning, actually started enjoying the sugar looking at each other, scared to death. free diet. That’s quite a harsh feeling. Seven hours later, guys at work would It took me around 20 days to realise tell me that I “used to be a happy how my body reacts to food. It took person” and what happened to me? about a month more to stabilise In seven hours and two minutes, I the way I eat. I relapsed after the would find myself locked in the staff experiment was over, but now I’m toilet, looking at myself in the mirror, back on a tight regime. And, so far, thinking: “Rasa, you look absolutely still no sugar. What struck me the awful!” most was how much our mind and emotions control hunger impulses. My skin turned pale and my lips Roughly 60 per cent of times I used to became slightly bluish. My exeat, it was because I felt down, sad, flatmate and very good friend would bored, had a spare minute or wanted stop listening to what I was saying to treat myself. just because she couldn’t stand my plodding mind flow. I couldn’t I’ve tried to adjust the way I eat so think anymore; I felt exhausted and I feel better about myself. I’m not became extremely unresponsive. counting spoons or calories; I’m About 10 days later my mind finally tracking my thoughts.

Photo by Rasa Jusionyte

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