Franz Funker.

Goodbye Uncle Sleazy

2010-11-25T11:07:00.004Z

For any admirers of bands Throbbing Gristle, Coil and Psychic TV today is a very sad day. Uncle Sleazy you will be greatly missed. May you rest in peace, your sonic legacy never forgotten.

Peter 'Sleazy' Christopherson
27 February 1955 - 24 November 2010.

Tappi Tíkarrass

2010-11-24T15:54:00.003Z

Today I have been mostly listening to Icelandic band Tappi Tíkarrass. For those of you who are thinking who the devil are they? well, it is where a girl named Björk Guðmundsdóttir (Björk) came to prominence in the city of Reykjavík. So, I felt I should share this with you in the form of, yes, you've guessed it, a video:

Noma: Time & Place

2010-11-09T13:17:00.006Z

I had some exciting post this morning. Well, at least it was exciting to me, the envelope branded with the word 'Noma' and two Denmark postage stamps at the top. Inside was a signed photograph of René Redzepi whose restaurant holds the accolade of the best restaurant in the world. If you had been watching 'Master-Chef The Professionals' a couple of weeks ago you are no doubt familiar with the work of culinary genius Redzepi, he mentored the final three chefs in the ultimate in high-standard Michelin starred cooking with breathtaking results.

Now, sadly I've not yet had first-hand experience of Noma but it has been firmly placed upon my wish list of restaurants I want to eat in. For now, to satisfy my need to experience all that is Noma I purchased Redzepi's newly published book. 'Noma: Time & Place In Nordic Cuisine' is in itself visually stunning.

A hefty, coffee-table buckling tome running to around 400 pages and a sure fire way of obtaining RSI should you read it cover to cover; beautiful photographs given an entire page to breathe alongside recipes and essays on the Noma philosophy all make for what promises to be a fascinating culinary journey.

Noma is all about Nordic heritage, sourcing from local surroundings and utilising the edible secrets that Copenhagen has to offer; among which ingredients include: woodruff, nasturtium, ramsons, stonecrop, purslane and wood sorrel to name but a hand full or should that be bunch?

If you are interested in food, not just Noma in particular this book is well worth forking out for (that wasn't meant to be a pun.)

'Blueberries In Their Natural Surroundings.'

'René Redzepi and the Story of Noma.'

Ende Neu

2010-10-22T16:34:00.005+01:00

On Sunday I took a very short trip to London to see Einsturzende Neubauten perform. The gig was part of their 30th Anniversary Tour, and might I take this opportunity to say a very happy birthday to the chaps.

Neubauten (as they shall be shortened) are a band very dear to my heart and have been with me through the highs, lows and everything in-between. The gig was at The Garage in Highbury (the old Artrocker offices were around the back when I was writing for them, so it was strange to be back in the vicinity.)

First of all we got to watch a documentary on Neubauten which was very interesting even if the seats provided were cripplingly uncomfortable and as a result we left half way through. The bands set itself was short, roughly around 45 minutes as this was the 'warm-down' (for want of a better term) to their main gig the previous night. However short the set was a special experience as the band played songs which were rarities or at least not heard for a very long time. Sand, Seele Brennt and Grundstück among other highlights.

A particularly enjoyable night, this was the second time I've seen Neubauten and I can't wait to see them again. Here's a video from the anniversary evening:

Blixa Bargeld

2010-10-14T21:05:00.003+01:00

Venice (Part 2)

2010-10-03T10:03:00.001+01:00

Venice (Part 1)

2010-09-26T09:03:00.011+01:00

I'm not supposed to be drinking. I have moaned about this over and over again but the truth is I do enjoy the odd jar or two and I miss it greatly. If you know me you'll know that I have recently returned from six days in Venice; the city was everything my dreams hoped for and more, the trick is to avoid the tourist traps, sadly there are many, overwhelmed by loud Hawaiian shirted Americans a few of which I quietly fell-out with but that's a different story.

We were staying near St. Marks Square (our first mistake) and I subsequently attempted to escape from this Bermuda triangle of camera flashes and cheap tourist tat as much as possible. I wanted to find the Alta Acqua Bookshop, apparently the most beautiful bookshop in the world and it was certainly that. A ramshackle establishment packed with books at every available corner, cats sleeping on top of piles of magazines, a full-sized Gondola in the middle unsurprisingly full of books and a doorway leading straight onto the green pearlescence of a canal. Having thumbed through every art-monograph I could lay my hands on and sifting through tattered copies of Opus International we left via the main entrance and started back towards the centre.

Turning directly to the right stood an establishment named Enoiteca Mascareta, the name sounded familiar and a quick nose around the windows of the bar confirmed my suspicions. This was the famed bar run by local legend Mauro Lorenzon. You may have seen him if you watched the series 'Jamie Does...' earlier this year. The Venice episode featured a flamboyant chap who opened bottles of Prosecco using a sword and Mauro was indeed that chap. As it was the morning the bar was still closed but we decided to return later that evening to see what the fuss was about.

After a day spent being cultural, a trip to The Peggy Guggenheim Collection among the many highlights we returned to the hotel for a quick shower, a small rest and to get our ever so slightly travel-creased glad-rags on. After a short walk back into the Castello district of town we were back at Enoiteca Mascareta, a place now bustling with fashionable Venetians quaffing oysters by the platter and chugging on bottle after bottle of wine. With no sign of the man himself we settled in, leaning on the beaten wooden bar, Grundy with a glass of deep and spicy red wine (Valpolicella) and in the spirit of intrepid travel and ignoring all medical advice I had a glass of Mauro's own brand of Prosecco. Having not swung emotions in a Jekyll and Hyde type intervention I decided to have another, then another, oh Christ, that's my sixth.

Having had Prosecco before but only in our own drab little country my expectations at first were not high but blimey, this stuff was good, this was the true elixir of life: surely?. A tad merry (by this years standards this was quite the drinking session) and fully engrossed in the infectious atmosphere of the bar I noticed a figure in the shadows, entering into the bar like a beam of sequin waist-coated life came Mauro, the eccentric wine expert I had heard so much about. Working his way around the bar he greeted the assembled ensemble, for some of these Venetians (of which every body was, only us two Brits bringing the tone down) it was almost a religious happening. Cries of "Mauro!" rippling across the dimly lit wine bar. I was also lost, although not quite speaking in tongues and ordered yet another couple of glasses. Will he get the sword out?

One thing led to another and before we knew it we were chatting to the great man, albeit in a rather disjointed Italian/English mix (from both parties.) A little drunk I made him promise to get his Sabre from the wall hook tomorrow evening, seeing a man open a bottle with a sword was something I simply HAD to see before leaving the city. I had a few days yet anyway. As arranged we arrived at 8.00pm sharp but where was Mauro? Guido, one of the bar staff approached us and said Mauro was called to an important engagement, oh well, it would be a shame to come here and not have a bottle and it gives an excuse to return tomorrow. We also had a few oysters (described by Guido as very special) and they were the freshest I had tasted with a salty-ozone punch that was decadently satisfying (this is saying something for someone who hails from Cornwall.) Further intoxicated and after having a nosy peek at the menu I booked a table for us the following day.

At 8.30pm the next day we returned and were seated in the best seats in the house, adjacent to the bar. Mauro was back in his rightful place and smoothly working the crowd only pausing from his social duties to down the odd glass of wine or eight. As a starter we shared a platter of meats, cheese and olives. Bresaola, Prosciutto, Salami, five different Italian cheeses ranging from hard flecks of Parmesan to the more yielding options topped with juicy purple-tinged black olives. Bread and olive oil was complimentary and wholesomely vast in range.

Next, the main course. I selected Sèppie al Nero con Polenta (cuttlefish cooked in it's own ink and served with fried Polenta) and Grundy opted for the duck served in sauce, as of yet we didn't know what the sauce would be but Prosecco makes you surprisingly prone to risk-taking.

Within ten minutes a member of the kitchen staff places two plates of steaming umptious risotto in front of us; "Compliments of Mauro, he wishes you to sample his risotto." This was the biggest sample I had ever seen but never one to turn down free food I did my duty and tucked in. Buonissimo! The rice oozing from the fork, with just enough bite in the centre, chunks of chicken tasting like how we've all forgotten chicken tastes and a gorgeously wine tinged waft of steam filling the air around.

The cuttlefish that arrived after was one of the most surprisingly taste-filled and beautiful things I have eaten. The sort of food that makes you create noises as you chew, after much nomming (as I believe is the current buzz-phrase) I swept the remaining sauce from the plate with a piece of bread and unashamedly left the plate near-squeaky clean. The duck was cooked to perfection, rose tinted at the centre, crispy skin and a sauce as it transpired made from char-grilled peppers, orange, tomatoes, onion and is that white wine?

Suitably stuffed although still, as always, enough room for dessert we ordered Tiramisu. Jamie Oliver has said that Mauro's version of this classic Venetian dessert is the best he had tasted and with this recommendation it would have been rude to pass on such an opportunity to try. As you may have guessed it was nothing short of amazing. Time to loosen the belt a notch. Before we had chance to reach for the Rennies Guido passed us each a plate of Biscotti and cream. Oh, ok, if I must.

Guido, could we have the bill please? 'Yes of course, give me a moment.'

Guido however knew something was about to happen wheeling in a trolley with a small burner on top and a copper pan on top of that. Mauro, now wearing his medal of the 'Confrèrie du Sabre d'Or' clattered rice into a pan of popping olive oil, Risotto as performance? Only in Italy. Fifteen minutes later curiosity got the better of me and I joined Mauro at the portable stove, putting his arm around my shoulder he explained to me that he was about to teach me to make a fish risotto, all produce sourced from around The Veneto a fact he was rightfully proud to state.

After much stirring and conversing I returned to my seat. I was ready to leave and rest my now bulging stomach but before we knew it two more plates of Risotto were placed in-front of us under Mauro's orders. I couldn't eat anymore but I had to, I couldn't resist. The plate finished I was ready to burst.

Suddenly and amidst much cheering music began to play, music from just about every Western your dad used to watch, Mauro, brandishing a golden Sabre. Taking a bottle of Prosecco in one hand, stroking the sharp blade of the sword across the bottles neck with the other, on the count of three: THREE and in the blink of an eye the bottles neck went flying across the bar, Prosecco bubbling out of the now blunt end. To a rapturous cheer Mauro catches the excess with his lips and proclaims the contents to be magnificent. Tomorrow we had to return to England, I'm going to miss this place, before we went Mauro sat down at our table took my Venezia Moleskine notebook and began to write a goodbye note, although in Italian he translated the heartfelt sentiment.

As a keepsake I bought a bottle of his Prosecco to take back, the bar staff signed the label, something I will treasure. I will never find another bar quite like this and to be accepted by the Venetian clientele so weary of tourists was certainly an honour.

I can only wish that I will return again soon. Thanks Mauro, Guido and the team.

Cooking Risotto with Mauro Lorenzon:
Venice 18th September 2010.

Videos.

2010-09-13T16:05:00.002+01:00

Christoph Doering - Taxi Film 1979.

Liaisons Dangereuses - Los Niños Del Parque.

David Bowie - Christiane F.

Martin Creed.

2010-08-12T20:18:00.004+01:00

When I lived in London I worked for a few art galleries among which was Hauser & Wirth. Hauser & Wirth represent Martin Creed and I often bumped into him in the gallery or at private views. There is an exhibition in Edinburgh called 'Down Over Up' until the end of October (a major retrospective of his work) and it would be great to go and see it.

Creed is an artist close to my heart as he was very much featured in my dissertation which was on notions and concepts of 'nothingness' in contemporary art. I have long admired his work. It is so easy to dismiss Creed as a joker and the media are constantly doing just that. Creed is far from the art court jester and he is creating some highly intelligent artistic experiments that explore everything from painting and drawing alongside installation and music.

Tate interviewed him on the new exhibition for their series 'TateShots'...

July.

2010-07-21T12:51:00.005+01:00

By Christ it's been a while. Once again it has been an age since I have blogged, I've been busy with this that and the other, the other mostly being moving house.

Myself and Grundy now live a lot closer to town which is nice and damn close to Tesco (my arms rejoice.) For once I have a flat to be proud of, everything belonging to us and a kitchen full of vintage/retro kitchenware. I've moved seven times within the last four years so I have grown a bit weary, here's hoping I stay put for a while.

I find myself, once again off work. The problem with working with food is that the mere gurgle of a dickey tummy and you are off for a legally required two days. Great. With no sick pay this is not at all ideal as you could imagine and I have been ill on and off for months. I feel like shite, sadly literally but that's more than anybody should care to know. I have my fingers crossed for a speedy recovery as on Saturday I am going to Truck Festival and then on Tuesday I am taking Grundy to Cornwall for a few days. Here he can experience the beauty of the county, breath the salt air, see where I grew-up and went to school and get thoroughly pissed off by dick-head booze tourists (even though we are staying there we will be out of Newquay as much as possible.)
I suppose it's gives me a chance to wear my flip-flops for their desired purpose and head to the beach. It will be strange going back as I haven't done so for well over a year and a half. It's a lovely place but now sadly spoiled by the masses.

With scant regard for carbon emissions we shall be flying. When it is about £60 cheaper and three hours quicker who could blame us? Plus it makes you feel like a rock star, no drinking and throwing TVs out of windows for me though. What with all these pills, lotions and potions I am practically a monk these-days, just call me Brother Matthew.

Anyway in an attempt to get better I am going to get on the fluids and find something food related to watch (fingers crossed for Nigella whose motherly ways make everything better.)

S.C.U.M.

2010-06-24T07:57:00.003+01:00

I saw S.C.U.M support Nitzer Ebb this time last year. Well, Friday 5th June 2009 if we must be precise and I was thoroughly impressed by what I saw. There are very few recent bands that excite me but S.C.U.M certainly hold that accolade. With this in mind, some videos:

Vote Chaos Vs Cosmos!

2010-06-11T09:52:00.000+01:00

Soft Focus: Genesis P. Orridge

2010-06-04T09:09:00.003+01:00

Likes & Dislikes.

2010-06-01T12:01:00.011+01:00

Goodness, the 1st of June already, where does the time go?

I realise this is a very blue-rinse thing to say but seriously, where has the time gone? I am off work for another day with my back. (Days off are generally spent with my spine in it's usual place - what I mean to say it is hurting enough to hamper working and that is why I find myself with fingers running along these off white apple keys once more.)

We slept on the floor last night, all very primitive and Ray Mears I'm sure. If only the reason was eccentricity, adventure or bush-craft as opposed to chronic ailment (my life will probably never be quite as exciting as fashioning a harpoon out of a twig with my teeth but I can dream.)

Anyway, I digress, the title of this particular blog entry is 'Likes & Dislikes' and recently I have found little to hate which is highly unusual for a steadily cantankerous old git like me. We'll put the back pain down as an instant dislike for starters.

Likes:

1. Jamie Does... (Channel 4 Series.)

This was a really nice series and I enjoyed watching it no-end; I even bought the book but that probably isn't saying much knowing my reputation as a bit of a bibliophilic hoarder.

2. Soft Brew (Non-Alcoholic Fruit Beer - Marks & Spencer.)

I'm not allowed to drink alcohol at the moment so I have been searching for alternatives so I don't feel all left out and boring (which is probably still the case anyway.) Marks & Sparks Soft Brew's are really nice and come in different flavours apparently although Oxford only ever seem to have apple, boo.

3. Fairly Nuts Ice Cream (Ben & Jerry's.)

Ben & Jerry's never get it wrong and this flavour is no exception. It's reasonably hard to find around these parts so this particular flavour has built up mysticism so when we are lucky enough to find it at Tesco we do indeed go Fairly Nuts.

4. Marmite X.O (Extra Old Matured Marmite.)

Hurray! Another variation of Marmite. This one is for hard-core fans with a stronger more intense taste. I still slap it on with gay abandon but then again I'm a Marmite freak (make your own jokes.) By the way Debenhams I am still waiting for my Marmite jar-shaped mug to be delivered, chop-chop please.

5. Where's Wally? (iPhone App.)

Where's Wally? I'm not sure but thanks to him a lot of us now need glasses. Now that I am an adult glasses wearer I can strain my eyes even more by staring at my iPhone screen tapping away merrily trying to find that pesky Wally and his cheeky be-hatted dog.

........

Dislikes:

1. If you can't pull your trousers up then for god's sake please make sure you've at the very least got clean boxer shorts on, especially if they are white. I don't want to see how well you wipe your posterior or that you bought your Calvin Klein's in a charity bin, complete with authentic vintage holes and rips.

2. The words 'Street' alongside 'Dance' and 'Troop' make me shudder at their mere mention. street dance can't be as hard as we first imagined; after all as it seems that 70% of the British public are more than capable of it and seem to think the Queen would like to watch.

Britain's Got Talent? Britain's Got Street-Dance more like and too bloody much of it!

3. I'm working in a shop at the moment and nothing annoys me more than people thrusting or holding bank notes in your face. This often happens as you are trying to bag and ring-through their order on the till, they will wave the note in your face, often following you around the counter until you take it from them. If this sounds like you, I hate you.

3a. In a similar vein people who ask you how much an order is even before you are anywhere near the till, I hate you also. I do not have the maths brain of Johnny Ball and Carol Vorderman's love child.

3b. Oh and another thing, a simple please or thank-you really wouldn't hurt would it? Do you think I want to be here? Do you think I work in a job below me to be spoken too like rubbish? People who come up to me and say things like 'Get me a coke' and then thrust a £50 note in my face I really do wish you the very worst. There is something very wrong with society if a simple 'please' is putting yourself out.

Double Exposure.

2010-05-31T10:41:00.001+01:00

Double Statue., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Valletta, Malta.

Eurovision.

2010-05-31T09:22:00.004+01:00

Did you watch Eurovision this year? No? Just me then? I am not ashamed to say I rather enjoy Eurovision; it is so wonderfully camp and kitsch that I find it hard to resist and this year was no exception. Predictably our nation came last but that is no surprise considering our entry was woefully boring and outdated by around forty years. Well done the great British public.

Anyway my sugar-coated kitsch highlights were as follows:

Malta - Thea Garrett - My Dream.

I warm towards the Maltese entry as I saw this song qualify whilst in Malta on holiday in February. Sat in our hotel room with a heady choice of 5 channels, it was either that or the Maltese version of Deal Or No Deal which they somehow managed to make last about 4 hours (nothing happened in the whole time we were watching it...) it's enough to drive a man to Cisk!

Greece - Giorgos Alkaios & Friends - OPA!

The song that made the whole of Europe shout OPA! at any given opportunity. Hey!

Estonia - Malcolm Lincoln & Manpower 4 - Siren.

This was a bizarre entry as Estonian Malcolm based his act on the styling and dance moves of Jarvis Cocker, sort of a bit lacking but endearing never the less.

Romania - Paula Seling & Ovi - Playing With Fire.

My personal favourite with something for everyone; Pioneering piano design, excessive pointing, operatic bursts, ill costume choices but all in all infectious and catchy. My vote went to Paula and Ovi and they came third overall.

Walk Like A Venetian.

2010-05-18T19:04:00.002+01:00

A couple of days ago I booked a holiday to Venice (in September) for myself and Grundy and to say I'm excited is putting it mildly. Venice is a city which I have always wished to visit and it may sound a bit fantastical but I can't quite believe I am doing just that.

For someone who can't swim (I know, and I grew up in Newquay, shameful) it might seem like an odd choice but when you are confronted with the rich luscious imagery of films such as Death In Venice you can easily see the reason why. I am currently watching the BBC series 'Venice' on DVD to get me in the mood; the series is presented by famed Venetian Francesco Da Mosto whom I met a couple of years ago, his passion for his home city is endearing and he presents the city to you in a way that proves hard to resist. We are staying in the heart of the city near Piazza San Marco and I we plan to partake of all the required and cliched tourist activities.

In other news I had an MRI scan today, a strange experience and not one I can tell you much about as I fell asleep whilst listening to Heart FM (you didn't get a choice.) Entering the claustrophobic clinically white tunnel listening to Wham! is of course a high light.

Chirpy Burpy Cheap Sheep

2010-05-02T11:58:00.004+01:00

I am having a melancholic morning. I got out of bed this morning and as has become painfully predictable I have another day off with atrocious weather. It's beyond the joke. I need cheering up so I went to Amazon (always dangerous) and thought I would have a little look around the comedy DVD section. I have just purchased the definitive collection of Father Ted. Hurray!

Father Ted is one of those rare comedy series that were and still remain consistently funny no-matter how many times you watch and the theme tune alone is like a massive sonic hug. I defy anyone not to smile when confronted with that opening, the sweeping helicopter shot across Craggy Island and that signature music created by The Divine Comedy. Would it be Christmas if you didn't see the fathers get trapped in the biggest lingerie section in Ireland as an example? Would the world be the same without Father Noel Furlong river-dancing in a claustrophobic over populated dilapidated caravan screeching at the top of his voice? Mrs Doyle and her cocaine cakes? The cows that are actually very far away or the shock of an impostor sheep? I think not.

I for one am very much looking forward to seeing all three series from the start all over again. My Granddad is Irish, raised by nuns in wartime Dublin and apparently Father Ted is a lot closer to the truth than we think. Makes you want to be Irish and fifty years older doesn't it? As a special treat to us all, ladies, gentlemen, other, please enjoy the following:

Another Dahl.

2010-04-29T16:05:00.006+01:00

This month seems to be dominated by all things Dahl.
From Sophie to Roald and back again.

On Sunday me and Grundy took a trip to Great Missenden in Buckinghamshire the former home of Roald Dahl and present home to The Roald Dahl Museum & Story Centre. Grundy has been slightly obsessed with Roald Dahl of late and looking back at my own childhood Dahl has without a doubt played a big part as he has done to so many children for generations. I can remember sitting in bed, probably around the age of seven thumbing through a tattered copy of Georges Marvelous Medicine, the cover art work I recall vividly, a great swirl of turquoise blue wafting up from a cauldron stirred by George and framed in crimson. It was also the first book I can remember reading alone and in one sitting, pretty unremarkable now of course but looking back a triumph in a life of reading.

Great Missenden was a small yet interesting place to look around, this tiny unassuming village is the birthplace of some of the most internationally read and well recognised children's books of all time. The BFG, Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, Matilda all written in a small shed in a back garden, the village library is where Matilda fell in love with books and knowledge, the red-pump garage as described in Danny & The Champions Of The World and what is now a house was the orphanage as described in The BFG and the great man himself buried in the local church yard at the top of the hill.

It seemed that we were the only Dahl tourists there that day but it was a Sunday and we got up early to make the journey, we started with a cup of tea in the Twits Café where the walls were dotted with framed original pages from Dahl's first notebooks on Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, pages so influential and so accessible nestled alongside pots of sickly candy canes and jars of gobstoppers all good signs.

When we went into the museum itself we were issued with a pamphlet each and told to walk down the corridor as we did so the smell of churned chocolate stroked our nasal passages with Dahl's voice reading pages from well loved memoir 'Boy' exciting the ears. The first room showed images and artifacts from the authors childhood, his school satchel and uniform alongside the little taxidermy mouse used in 'The Great Mouse Plot of 1924.' Passing slabs of Wonka branded chocolate the museum continues with videos of the author at home, a deconstruction of his writing process and you can even sit in the very chair that every Roald Dahl story was written, and of course we did, it'd be rude to pass on such an opportunity.

Although the museum is geared more towards a young audience it is still a fascinating way to spend an hour or so and for the film buffs there are costumes and props from Tim Burton's version of Charlie & The Chocolate Factory including Johnny Depp's Wonka outfit and the re-vamped versions of the Oompa Loompa and also the sets used in Fantastic Mr. Fox.

For any fan of Roald Dahl the shop is a must and there are quite positively hundreds of items all Dahl related from books to prints, pencil cases, DVDs, mugs and more. After the museum you can go on a self guided village trail that takes you to various places of interest culminating in a visit to Dahl's grave where fans have left presents and tributes including a bottle of marvelous medicine and a Wonka bar. Dahl's house is not on the trail as it is still owned by the Dahl family but as we had made a special journey we felt the need to find it and after a short walk and the help of phone based navigational technology we found the famed Gipsy House and from the public pathway that passes at the side of the garden and a quick glimpse through the hedge there, with a bright yellow door was the writing hut, Dahl's much celebrated literary retreat. We were just hoping that the Dahl family didn't see us and call the authorities. I am pleased to report they didn't.

Now that Grundy owns all of the books (more or less) I feel I myself should re-read them, probably starting with Esio Trot, a tortoise based childhood favourite for sure.

"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination.
Living there, you'll be free if you truly wish to be. " - Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka.

Food.

2010-04-19T19:55:00.005+01:00

Once again it has been a while since my fingers have run across these keys. I have recently signed up to an iPhone contract so I've been doing all that is required (as far as emails, Facebook etc) on that; my poor little trusty MacBook has been sobbing, sheathed in an apparently protective layer of purple neoprene in the corner.

Spring is here, probably my favourite time of year: dogs running about in parks, daffodils waking by the towpath, the sun with it's cheery optimistic shine and lashings of clinky drinks, gin and tonics and the like. I have been watching Sophie Dahl's new cookery program, a series that seems so wonderfully and quintessentially British is makes the heart sigh. I must admit when I first heard Miss Dahl was to delve into such a kitchen table culinary foray I watched with an air of caution, Miss Dahl does not eat meat and I rarely trust those that don't especially if it's for any other reason than heeding medical advice.

It almost goes hand in hand with the warnings of butchery scenes before the food television of today. I am of the opinion that if you are to eat meat (or I 'spose it could apply to any food stuffs more or less) you should know of it's origins and where it has come from, if possible.

If you are to eat meat, butchery is after all a reality and I have no problem with seeing meat hanging in the market or things still holding onto their heads post mortality. One of my favourite things to cook is rabbit stew and I have before now decapitated, gutted and skinned a few rabbits from scratch. I am much happier to eat this knowing I prepared it myself; it's not a blood thirsty desire to butcher it is more a chance to exercise my morals when it comes to the consumption of meat per se. These skills of basic food preparation have been lost to shiny artificial produce vac-packed in supermarket chillers ready and waiting for us. I'd be telling porkie pies if I was to say I don't shop in Supermarkets, these days I seem to always shop in supermarkets for the great majority of the time but it is worth remembering the joys of cooking as opposed to just re-heating even if it is as basic as a baked potato. Sometimes the most basic of dishes are the best and most comforting. Cooking is a skill that should be practiced by all.

What Sophie Dahl does is take the most basic recipes but gives them a twist and although Dahl chooses not to eat meat (her prerogative) her meat recipes are re-told with the same charming zeal and passion as the rest. Every dish in her book and series has a back-story and echoes the works of adored food writers Elizabeth David or Jane Grigson; each recipe is evocative of a time in a life, a memory or an emotion. We all eat so therefore we all have food memories, food is a wonderful and much under-estimated emotional trigger.

I am slightly odd in that I really enjoy reading food writing and like nothing more than sitting down with a strong cup of tea, a couple digestive biscuits (to dunk of course) and a heavy lusciously produced cookery book on my lap. I don't have to be consuming the food to find joy in it.

As I glance over at our bookshelf it strains under the pressure of row after row of culinary tome: an ancient copy of Mrs Beeton nestling alongside Nigella, Rick, Jamie, Gordon, Marco and Hugh, Clarissa and Floyd, I have eclectic tastes if nothing else but each has their reason and each one has recipes I have and will return to again and again. A Foodie? I'm not sure, but one thing I do know is I enjoy eating and a treat every now and again is without a doubt a necessity.

Produce does not always have to be lovingly made single handed by a farmers wife and placed into kilner jars with accompanying doilies for it to be good. Ben & Jerry's, Marmite, Cheerios even Mr Kipling etc are all good and very much evocative of different periods in my life. One thing I will say is that you'll never beat a cake made by the W.I. and I wouldn't wish to try either. Who wants a pancake on pancake day without artificial Jif lemon? Not I! Sometimes tradition must hold the upper-hand; the W.I. Victoria Sponge, produced to perfection deserves to sit upon the same pedal-stool as Cadbury's Fruit & Nut or Bassetts Licorice All-Sorts, not the best ingredients, not the healthiest but certainly the most loved. Dahl, among others (I'm thinking of the self-styled domestic goddess that is Nigella Lawson) take the pretensions out of cookery and give us the license to reminisce through gluttony guilt free and surely that is what food is about? Enjoyment? Eat what you wish to eat but be brave from time to time and try new things.

For me knowing your food's origins and how it comes to be upon your plate (the art of butchery as one example) enhances your appreciation for what you are eating. It's perfectly fine to fill up on Cadbury's and chow-down on Golden Grahams but from time to time please support our local artisan producers for whom their produce is not only a passion but a way of life and it'd be a travesty to let them go unnoticed and dissolve into history.

Horses.

2010-03-25T15:24:00.001Z

Horses., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Taken outside the gates of Mdina, Malta.

The Mad March Hare.

2010-03-18T09:46:00.004Z

It has been a little while since I have written a proper up-date. I am now employed in Oxford so that is taking up most of my time. Like all graduates my current job is absolutely nothing to do with my degree; I am the supervisor of a bakery selling all things Cornish. Early starts, long hours, the constant risk of being burnt - but it's money after all and the rent needs to be paid.

Myself, Grundy and his mum went to see the new Tim Burton film 'Alice in Wonderland' at the new Cineworld in Witney on Sunday. The film was a lot better than I was expecting and as an added bonus was in 3D. Whilst everybody else gained much hilarity from wearing their glasses I did not; they were after all the same as my normal glasses and couldn't quite work out what the fuss was about. Although I am growing a little tired of the predictability of the Burton, Depp, Bonham-Carter triangle there is know denying that they are producing good results although yet again they seem to stroll too far from the pages of the book, a massive pinch of artistic license maybe? I still prefer the original 'Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory' of 1971 as an example; some things are definitely better left alone.

March also sees much stand-up comedy afoot, we are going to 'Childish Things' this Saturday evening which is all in aid of the childrens' hospice charity Helen & Douglas House. It is an evening of comedy which this year features the likes of Rob Brydon, Jason Manford, Graham Norton and Rory Bremner as some of the artists announced so far. It should be a really good night and get us in the mood for seeing Ricky Gervais on his 'Science' tour this coming Wednesday. The last stand-up comedy I saw live was Dylan Moran back in Cornwall but that was a good few years ago now so I am long overdue.

Other things happening at present: Myself and Grundy got a LoveFilm account as we decided we do not watch enough films, the new(ish) Michael Haneke film 'White Ribbon' came clattering through the letter box a couple of days ago and we plan to watch that as soon as we are able to stay awake for long enough. No late fees, amen!

I also have a stack of books to read but haven't yet had the time; I am currently reading William S. Burroughs 'Cities Of The Red Night' which is predictably full of drugs, ritual killings and strange occurrences involving disease and death, not exactly a holiday read but that didn't stop me taking it to Malta. I have also just started the journals of Keith Haring. Also, completely unrelated but I currently smell like 'Versace Pour Homme' a frangrance that reminds me of being warm, wearing shorts, splashing around in the Mediterranean Sea and eating amazing food.

For now, that is all as I need to dash up town to get the new Wire which this month has a free CD, wonderful.

Andy Warhol.

2010-03-11T17:28:00.002Z

Andy Warhol: Madame Tussauds, London.

Godstar.

2010-03-02T21:44:00.002Z

Godstar - Psychic TV - 1985.

Grundy.

2010-02-20T18:19:00.001Z

Grundy (02), originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Grundy (my boyfriend) taken on my new Diana Mini.

Industrial Introduction.

2010-02-17T22:23:00.002Z

Throbbing Gristle (Clip from BBC documentary 'Synth Britannia')

Throbbing Gristle interviewed by BoingBoing Video.

Diana (Mini)

2010-02-17T11:05:00.013Z

As I excitedly remind myself every morning Grundy and I are Malta bound late on Sunday. I couldn't be happier to get away from the drizzle and cold, five days in the Mediterranean is exactly what the doctor ordered, no, really he did but that's a long and boring story of visits to Bartlemas Surgery, blood tests and pain killers.

I have bought a new camera and I am looking forward to taking many-a-sun-drenched snap with it. It's a Diana Mini (made by The Lomographic Society.) I have it's older bigger brother already (Diana+) but due to it having to use medium format film (120) it proves tricky, unpredictable and expensive to use and process. The Diana Mini however takes standard 35mm film and thanks to a rectangular plastic insert can split each frame in half making a 36 exposure film capable of taking 72 images, bargain!

The Lomo' Society in-case you are unfamiliar have taken old cameras and have made replicas for a more contemporaneous audience. The Diana family is just one example of many reproductions and originally started off as a toy-camera given away at fair grounds or free with newspaper promotions in the 1950s/60s. As it was made very cheaply the camera suffers from light-leakage making the resulting images have a dream-like quality with dark edges and that has become a virtue and the image quality is now much sort-after. Although originally a "toy" it is a fully functioning camera but to use a Diana is to delve into a world of uncertainty; how you think an image will turn out and how it actually does are two different matters completely.

So, stay posted to this blog and my Flickr account to see the results when they are back from Snappy Snaps. The images below are of the camera and an example of a photograph taken on it (not by myself but from the Lomography website.)

Egoshooter.

2010-02-12T13:39:00.013Z

As you may have guessed by now I feel a certain affinity for the Germans. Most of the films I own are from the said country and I am always searching for something new to watch to add to my ever growing collection. I purchased 'Egoshooter' from German Amazon about a month ago but we hadn't got around to watching it until last night.

Starring rising star Tom Schilling 'Egoshooter' is one of the more individual films I have seen in recent times. Taking into concern the contemporary upsurge in amateur video sites such as YouTube together with the social networking websites that have made everybody famous for 15 minutes the film splices together small, apparently amateurishly shot snippets of narrative to assess current social concerns.

Jakob is 19, living in Cologne and wasting his life; he documents every tedious aspect of that wasted life on video-camera. Everything: from not being able to sleep, riding a bike, begging, masturbating, eating breakfast, listening to music, together with his dysfunctional family and friends.

In a society that will watch Big Brother contestants sleeping on a live stream or readily view homemade videos of people doing almost anything at anytime, anywhere 'Egoshooter' is cleverly apt to our times and is of course on the surface a mediocre film of nothingness, but that's the point. We are all bored and as this very blog confirms we strive to document the tedious minutiae of life.

The film is alarmingly easy to watch yet at the same time a slightly uncomfortable experience, after all we are watching Jakob in the most intimate and emotionally private moments but the internet has made such occurrences normality. The film apes us all and is well worth watching if only to look into the mirror that is being held-up to society. This experimental blend of fragmentary documentation is refreshingly honest but you must surrender yourself as viewer to get the most out of it, if you come expecting a storyline, you are missing the point.

If you have a spare 79 minutes and an extra twenty quid burning a hole in your pocket why don't you try Egoshooter? Perfect viewing for late at night or early in the morning when suffering a hangover thus not really wanting to think.

No Age.

2010-02-07T20:38:00.005Z

...ladies and gentlemen; a band I have seen live more times than I care to remember, all the way from L.A in the U.S of A, and I even have the t-shirt, please be standing for NO AGE:

Snow.

2010-02-06T14:00:00.001Z

Snow., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

...and then it started to snow; our back garden - Oxford.

Attack Music.

2010-02-01T08:57:00.004Z

It was 2005, I was young and naïve. In that summer I was attending sixth-form and I was about to embark on a work placement at Artrocker magazine then based in Highbury, London. I was passionate about two things, writing and music (although I must confess that I was reasonably new to the 'music scene' attending my first festival a year earlier.) After having a few articles published here and there the demo's and promo's came clattering through my letterbox regularly. On one such occasion came a CD mysteriously titled 'Zum Kult Film EP' alongside the band name scrawled in green marker pen. These New Puritans? Sounds intriguing. In my dank, perpetually cold Cornish bedroom I listened to the demo and what I heard was akin to the downtrodden austere isolation I felt I lived with; a bachelors degree and a portion of a masters later you realise you've probably never had it so good, student life is good for boosting the immune system if nothing else.

On a struggling laptop I used what little music knowledge I had and wrote a review, published in Artrocker, my first full page feature and apparently the bands also. I read that article back this morning and I cringed. I was young and clumsy with language but I 'spose there is no denying my enthusiasm. Zum Kult Film EP still remains one of my favourites and I have kept that demo to this day. The EP signals the start of something which has become one of my most admired and adored bands of all time; and although slightly embarrassed by the article of a few years ago I feel I should have another shot with the release of their second album 'Hidden' which was out in shops last week.

It is all so easy to lump These New Puritans with apparent influences, when listening to the new album you can hear strains of Neu! and Einstürzende Neubauten alongside The Blue Orchids or maybe even a gentle prod in the direction of Robert Wyatt but I feel listing similar bands somehow does an injustice to the bands uniqueness and musical intelligence. They are, I feel one of the most important bands of the last decade, never loosing integrity or selling-out to a nation of youngsters vegetating in-front of T4 (although I am sure there are worse crimes.)

From the very off-set 'Hidden' is absorbing with a strikingly melancholic introduction in brass, immersing whilst simultaneously putting you at a detached emotional distance before the aural puncture of 'We Want War' brings you right back and sitting to attention. This, also the first single of this release is one of the best 'songs' (for want of a better word) I have heard in recent times and certainly the best this year, although we are only in February it will prove formidable to surpass. Within seven minutes we are taken on an exploratory journey, well honed with every aspect of the intricate minutiae a multi faceted and breathtakingly intelligent progression and this goes for the duration of the album. Throughout, with careful listening we hear recordings of chains and knives interwoven with possible gravel and hammers hitting a variety of objects but then again I could be completely wrong. That's the thing, there is enough to keep you thinking and pondering almost indefinitely.

I don't wish to get too hung-up on analysing the album song-by-song and should this be the first time you've heard of the album (you must be living in a cave somewhere uncharted) I feel it'd be nice for you to discover the albums contents of your own although admittedly slightly guided volition. The comprising tracks although of individual merit are best listened to in the order of the album, tracks referring back to others and vice-versa, a concept-album maybe, more so than the first album 'Beat Pyramid' anyway. If you are These New Puritans savvy, Hidden will no doubt introduce you to a new phase of the bands sound demonstrating their ingenious versatility. Tracks such as 'Attack Music' and 'Hologram' are poles apart but sit discerningly in situe in the albums progression. 'Drum Courts - Where Corals Lie' shows a tender side with a culmination in brass reprise. Hidden is beautiful, and I had to think twice about using such a seemingly haphazard statement; I use the word only when I absolutely mean it and this album certainly deserves the rare accolade. Beauty is not easily achievable with instruments and machines and computers.

I can only now implore you to purchase the album and I am sure the decision to do so will be one of the better judgments you make this month. Please also have a look around the bands website, an example of aesthetic worthiness: http://www.thesenewpuritans.com/

If you are unfamiliar with the work of These New Puritans and wish to sample their previous output it may be worth trying to track down a copy of 'Navigate-Navigate' or the 'Now Pluvial EP' and of course 'Beat Pyramid'. The first two may prove tricky as they were limited vinyl releases but are more than worth the effort of searching.

(Image: CheekMagazine)

What I'm...

2010-01-27T11:59:00.007Z

Reading:

Listening to:

Watching:

Drinking:

Eating:

We're Here To File A Complaint.

2010-01-26T12:20:00.004Z

I can't remember when I first discovered Tocotronic. I started my Last.fm account in 2006 so possibly around that time. Four years later (if indeed it was 2006) they are my most listened to band; who would have thought that the band to take this accolade would sing in German? Stranger things have happened I suppose. It is well recorded that I am a bit of a Germanophile and I have become increasingly interested in the country's music scene and more and more British bands are citing German bands as influences; the recent resurgence of Krautrock styling and synthesized instrumentation as two examples.

Tocotronic are also important in the shaping of contemporary German youth-culture, youngsters from the fatherland copying the bands clothing and haircuts. Tocotronic have been active since 1993 and were recognisable due to their anti-fashion stance preferring to wear clothes found in charity bins, unlabeled, skin-tight and generic, today this has become the norm for anybody remotely 'indie' (though I hate the word) but when Tocotronic first did such it was completely unusual. As for the haircuts, short back and sides with a heavy one-sided fringe became the desired style and if you walk around any European large town or city today it is still the case. Ask the average alternative Brit who Tocotronic are however and they'd draw a blank. It all started with them.

The album cover above is for the album 'Wir Kommen Um Uns Zu Beschweren' (We're Here To File A Complaint) and was released in 1996. I bought this album as I was intrigued by a track that named checked front man of The Fall Mark E. Smith (Ich Habe Geträumt, Ich Wäre Pizza Essen Mit Mark E. Smith) and for someone who spoke very little German I was pleasantly surprised by what I heard. Fast-paced guitar music with raspy and direct German vocals, scratchy and refreshingly homemade (some say similar to Pavement); the music behind the lyrics (the large majority of which I couldn't understand) made me want to know what was being said and four years later I have a better grasp. If you talk to any German about Tocotronic they will tell you that they like them due to their clever, intelligent and political lyrics (poking fun and getting angry about Germany's conservative, middle-class ways.) For me however the lyrics came as secondary of course and my love of Tocotronic came initially from their music and music alone.

I now have most of their releases, 10 studio albums, a plethora of EPs and Maxi-CDs and they have released a new album this week Schall & Wahn (The Sound & The Fury) which is practically unattainable in Britian, thank god for the internet. Today Tocotronic are one of the biggest alternative bands in Germany the fact they are singing in German giving them notable credibility (the only English language release was a version of the 1999 album K.O.O.K.)

The latest album adds further gravitas to Tocotronic's versatility and has a completely different feel from 'Kapitulation' (Surrender - their last studio album released in 2007) as a band they have noticeably moved with the times and maybe we sense a slightly more positive Germany? Although their sound has changed considerably since their conception Tocotronic are always Tocotronic and unmistakably so, the mark of a great band surely? Since I have spoke of Kapitulation here is a video for the title track of the album:

Tocotronic are:

Dirk Von Lowtzow - Lead Vocals, Rhythm Guitar
Jan Müller - Bass
Arne Zank - Drums
Rick McPhail - Lead Guitar, Keyboards

Visions Of China.

2010-01-22T12:48:00.001Z

Ryuichi Sakamoto & David Sylvian.

Southfork Ranch.

2010-01-21T19:17:00.005Z

A few months ago I started watching my DVD's of Dallas. I have to report that I have managed to get a tad behind so I think I might have to start from the beginning to refresh my mind. Who shot J.R? Well, sadly I already know, it is after-all common knowledge but the famed shot is not fired until series three so I have many hours of Texan-oil-based-televisual-drama yet.

I usually hate anything that is remotely cow-boyish and my skin crawls at the mere sight of a stetson but somehow I have warmed to Dallas and its characters and take it from me J.R Ewing is a right bastard, Lucy Ewing is a little tart and I really can't stand Ray Krebbs (please don't get me started.) All this reminds me that I must get my signed photo of Larry Hagman framed as it's an absolute travesty that it is still hiding in a cupboard. If you are like me and currently have little to do with your time and don't mind bad 70's haircuts, a high ratio of lurid polyester garments and a lot of crude talk (oil that is) then give Dallas a bash.

As this post has been very short and mostly pointless I feel I must leave you with a quote at least; ladies and gentlemen,
Mr J.R. Ewing:

"A marriage is like a salad: the man has to know how to keep his tomatoes on the top." *

* (whatever the hell that means.)

Plight.

2010-01-19T16:10:00.001Z

Joseph Beuys (5), originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

This is a photo I took of an installation by one of my most admired artists Joseph Beuys. Here we see a portion of an art-work called Plight (1985) and is currently installed at The Pompidou Centre in Paris where I encountered this work. We see a blackboard and thermometer atop a piano which is placed in a room completely lined with rolls of grey felt. You enter the room through a small door which you must stoop down to go through. Once inside you are overcome with a sense of warmth, the room being much hotter due to the insulation.

Felt is an important and reoccurring theme in Beuys' works; the story goes that when Beuys was a German aircraft pilot in the second world war he was shot down over the Dolomites (a section of The Alps) and was rescued by a group of nomads who covered his body in animal fat and then felt in order to keep him warm and thus surviving. Fat therefore is another regular aesthetic and sculptural device. This story has since been discredited but it is an important factor in the explanation of Beuys' sculpture.

Beuys takes ready-made, everyday objects and elevates them to plains of the mythological with constant nods towards the themes of life and death together with regeneration and the political.

Beuys creates allegorical environments to address the world around us and the human condition. Plight by the nature of the word coupled with the felt that lines the walls creates a tension between security and insecurity. The word 'Plight' suggests possible anxiety or instability yet the felt stands to suggest warmth, shelter or protection. The piano as far as I ascertain suggests escapism (in this case through music) although the piano will not make a sound and the lid remains shut; it's attainability jars with the welcoming softness of the walls. The blackboard and thermometer seem to suggest education and the comfort of knowledge, the thermometer physically confirms the warmth, the blackboard is an outlet for understanding.

Here is a link to an audio clip from 1985 of Joseph Beuys talking about the work:

http://www.tate.org.uk/britain/exhibitions/audioarts/cd2_8.shtm

Pissed Jeans.

2010-01-18T11:51:00.001Z

Pissed Jeans., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Pissed Jeans - A.T.P Vs Pitchfork - Pontins, Camber Sands - 2008.

I Have Moved.

2010-01-17T15:44:00.003Z

So, here I am sat watching The Simpsons in my new house in Oxford. I have moved in with my boyfriend Grundy who chivalrously missed going to see Aston Villa vs West Ham in Birmingham today to help me and I couldn't be more thankful to him. I hate moving; within the last four years I have moved six times and have amassed a scary number of possessions. I have somehow managed to collect over 400 books and those do not include the few hundred that are back in my mum's house. I think it is time to quash this addiction so I have decided not to buy any books until we are at least back from Malta in 6 weeks time. Bring on the cold turkey 'and with gods help I will conquer this terrible affliction' (I can't even stop adding the odd literary reference, thanks Irvine Welsh.)

The worse thing about moving is the packing and unpacking; every time I have moved I have more things to cram into boxes and laundry bags, although, this time I was ruthless and threw away 8 industrial sized bin-sacks of bits of paper, crap magazines, empty whisky bottles and all sorts of other unnecessary items that my cluttered mind has told me to hang onto. As Grundy said at least 50% of my possessions were the books, a scary thought. We loaded the van in London at 9.00 this morning and I used the same van-man as last time, salt of the earth all round lovely chap Van Man Bill and got here at about 11.30, marvelous. As I am sat here writing this I keep glancing over at the pile of stuff in the lounge and I am filled with dread, once it is all safely put away, out of sight and out of mind I will be happy and will sleep easily.

So, thanks London, it was nice while it lasted but I am more than happy to be having a break from the city. They do say however if you are tired of London you are tired of life, which is probably true. I'm not tired of London however, I am more than willing to have the odd day trip but I am not going to miss the extortionate living costs, relentless traffic noise, throngs of people everywhere, the stuffiness of the tube and the general unfriendliness of the city and its inhabitants. I will of course miss the friends I have made but I'm not far away, in-fact I think I am at the perfect distance, not too far and not too near. Thank-you Oxford Tube.

Anyway, I suppose I better show willing and do more tidying. Well, maybe a cup of tea first.

Malta Bound.

2010-01-12T14:43:00.002Z

It's been on the cards for a while now; here we are in Oxford still very much snowed under (although it is beginning to melt slowly) and we thought it was about time for a holiday. This morning Grundy and I took a short stroll up to the Cowley Centre and spoke to our friendly travel-agent and on 22nd February we shall be flying to Malta for five days in the sun, hurray. I spoke to my friend Clare on the phone the other day and she was very surprised that I would want to holiday somewhere hot; her summation of my personality was as follows:

"Matt Retallick you are the sort of person who aspires to live in a place like Durham and relish visits to dingy museums in the drizzle."

Never a truer word spoken. I usually love winter, I'm all for log fires and cosey nights in with the boyfriend but this year winter has been, well, too wintery. It's been a long cold winter of sparse heating, feet like blocks of ice and snot running down my filtrum. So I have an over-whelming desire to wear nothing but shorts and sunglasses and burn to a crisp (I'm not the sort to tan easily.)

We are going to Sliema and staying in a hotel that is over-looking a crystal blue bay and only five weeks and five days of cold to go before we are there. Grundy has been to Malta four times before so he is a seasoned Maltese traveler but this is my first excursion to Mediterranean climes. I expect to eat seafood by the platter-load, smell of after-sun and gain alcohol related sun-stroke. It wouldn't be a holiday if I didn't.

Expect a tedious stream of the usual holiday snaps on our return, but until then here is a charming picture of where we are staying:

W02.

2010-01-11T21:07:00.001Z

W02., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Neue Deutsche Welle.

2010-01-09T10:45:00.005Z

I am a self confessed music geek. I've got the big spec's, the only music magazine I buy is Wire, I have a nerdy vinyl collection of rarities and like nothing more than record shopping. Occasionally I hate myself for it but it could be worse I 'spose, I could actually play an instrument, well, I can play a portion of Popcorn on the stylophone but that's about it. So? What music are you into? Well, that's a very hard question to answer and I have agonised over it time and time again. My music taste is so disparate that it is hard to pin-down; sometimes however you are forced to stick your neck out, the last club-night I staged was called 'This Is Pop?' (named after an XTC song) and took place in Dalston, East London and on the accompanying promotional material I chose the following genres:

Post-Punk, New-Wave, Industrial, Experimental, No-Wave, E.B.M (Electro Body Music) and N.D.W (Neue Deutsche Welle) which translated means 'New German Wave' (pronounced in German as 'Noy-ah Doyt-cha Vell-a') N.D.W, as it will hereafter be referred reared it's head in the late seventies when music journalist Alfred Hilsberg conjured-up the term in 1979 to describe the growing underground music movement. To understand the sound of N.D.W you must first understand the politics of Germany at the time. Berlin, the city where the wave first struck was of course divided by an imposing concrete wall keeping the communist east segregated as The German Democratic Republic (DDR) with a very real sense of potential war, members of the DDR being shot dead trying to escape for the west. Berlin in particular would have been a politically cold place to be with reminders literally all around, barbed-wire, checkpoints and the presence of the military.

In the east musical output was controlled by the state, laws were passed meaning you could only release songs in German. For the east German youth there was little choice in music but some people could manage to pick up a western T.V. signal thus secretly exposing them to new sounds such as those created over the wall and later genres such as hip-hop. I am going to take this opportunity to introduce you to a few note-worthy N.D.W bands.

I will start off with Palais Schaumburg. Hailing from Hamburg the band were named after the former residence of the German Chancellor and was fronted by Holger Hiller. Holger was kind enough to DJ at my club-night last year playing a set comprised of demos and songs from the Schaumburg days never before heard in public; to the few hardcore Hiller fans that were amongst those that came this was a truly memorable occurrence. Here is the video for 'Wir Bauen Ein Neue Stadt...'

Continuing the run down here is a band who are sadly all but forgotten although I have managed to locate some of their much sort after releases on vinyl. Kosmonautentraum (translated somewhere along the lines of 'dreaming of a kosmonaut') were formed in 1980 and stand out amongst other N.D.W bands. Sonically they seem the capture how I would imagine the feel of Germany at the time. Not a video but a song never-the-less. Kosmonaut from the album Juri Gagarin:

Not all N.D.W bands have ebbed into obscurity however and without the doubt the most celebrated today are Einstürzende Neubauten who are regarded as particularly influential and have been name-dropped by such luminaries as Nick Cave and bands such as Sonic Youth. To show their versatility here are two videos, the first a performance of 'Sand' in 1990:

and secondly a clip from the Sogo Ishii film 'Haber Mensch'...

N.D.W was always dark in thematic however jolly it could appear on the surface. Here is a video from Die Radierer featuring a song about trying to poison yourself with Lego.

Finally (at least for this installment) I will leave you with Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft (a.k.a DAF and translated as 'German American Friendship) and the video for 'Der Räuber Und Der Prinz' (The Robber and the Prince.) DAF are another celebrated N.D.W band and even had a retrospective world tour last year and performed to capacity crowds in London, I was there and they are on fine form. Until next time then my exhausted reader, D.A.F...

Station To Station.

2010-01-09T10:18:00.003Z

Station To Station from 'Christiane F.' - David Bowie.

Oxford.

2010-01-06T17:28:00.004Z

For those of you who know me personally, especially those in London you will have noticed my absence lately (or not, depending on how much you care) so here is an up-date on my life at present. You will know by now that I have spent the last half a year dividing my time between London and Oxford to be with my boyfriend Grundy; there have been a few developments in my life, the majority of which are not worth getting into but Grundy is without a doubt the biggest and most important and I will be moving to Oxford to start-a-fresh next week. You may also know that in September I started an MA in 'Design Writing Criticism' I have decided for now to take a break from my studies (the first break in education since I finished nursery) a decision which was not taken likely but I feel the best decision for now. I also take this opportunity to thank those who have made this year special whether in London or Oxford and for those who have listened to me moan and whine at any given opportunity particularly Joe and Clare, Jamie and J.B. Thanks also to Roger and Teal for allowing me to stay around and helping me decide what I was doing with my life. Greatly appreciated. So, here's to Oxford and look out Blackwells you are about to get rinsed of stock on a weekly basis.

What I Smell Like.

2009-12-11T16:15:00.010Z

I have a thing for boutique fragrances. Over the years I have tried the good, the bad and as tradition dictates, the ugly. Now however I feel I have successfully refined my tastes and more often than not smell wonderful. Here is a pictorial list of my fragrance collection:

Le Male by Jean-Paul Gaultier. Of all the scents I have tried this one has been with me the longest. I was bought this for my fourteenth birthday and I am still using it today. I have heard it is meant to be evocative of old barber shops whether this is true or not it has become a personal classic.

Eucris by Geo. F. Trumper: of the fragrances I own this is the most classic. Eucris has become legendary in gentlemanly circles and was noted as James Bond's favourite in Diamonds Are Forever; musky, intense with notes of cumin, sandalwood, moss and black-current. It was also mentioned in Officers & Gentlemen by Evelyn Waugh. All round manly.

Ajaccio Violets by Geo. F. Trumper: When I first sampled this at Trumpers Jermyn Street shop I wasn't sure that I liked it, of everything I own this is particularly sweet but after some experimentations with complimentary sample bottles I am now a fan. Clean and crisp and created from real Corsican violets; image the smell of Parma Violets and you are not far off.

Sandalwood Cologne by Geo. F. Trumper. This is powerful stuff, when I first bought this I always seemed to spray too much onto myself and stank out any given room. Little and occasionally has become the unwritten rule. Sandalwood is apparently the most expensive fragrance ingredient as the tree it derives from is a protected species. For some reason it makes me think of Elizabethan explorers, I could imagine Sir Francis Drake wearing this. Pricey but worth it.

The Eton College Collection (Aftershave) by Taylor Of Old Bond Street: I really like this fragrance and it is fairly inexpensive. Inspired by Eton College you can imagine the likes of Stephen Fry, Aldous Huxley, George Orwell and The Duke Of Wellington wearing this. Sweet with citrus notes together with a herbaceous twang anyone fancy a spot of rugger?

Fleur De Male by Jean-Paul Gaultier: The brother to 'Le Male' I first purchased this on a trip to Paris and thought I had found something fairly unique, which at the time it was but now it has marched its way from France and is the scent on every-bodies lips, well... face. This particular one is for the most part androgynous although on second smell distinctly pour homme.

Blenheim Bouquet by Penhaligon's: This was Oscar Wilde's favourite fragrance and has, as you might have guessed been in production for eons. With notes of bergamont and jasmine and a plethora of rare ingredients this is my current favourite but expect to pay for the privilege. Smelling like Oscar Wilde? The privilege is all mine.

English Fern by Penhaligon's: Created in 1910 this is fresh and woody with scents of clover, fern (of course) alongside lavender it doesn't get any more English than this, unless you are listening to the Archers and shooting woodcock whilst spraying it onto yourself.

I.K.B.

2009-12-02T15:12:00.001Z

Blue Bill-Board., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Taken at Ledru Rollin Metro Station; Paris.

Gilbert & George.

2009-11-28T17:16:00.001Z

Gilbert & George., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Taken outside their house in Fournier Street, Spitalfields.

Totally Wired.

2009-11-28T16:56:00.002Z

Totally Wired (Signed), originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Signed By:
Simon Reynolds (Author)
Colin Newman (Wire)
Tom Morley (Scritti Politti)
Ana Da Silva (Raincoats)
Viv Albertine (Slits)

Jarvis Cocker (Live Video)

2009-11-25T17:21:00.006Z

Jarvis Cocker (Live Video), originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

As well as photo's I shall be posting videos that I have recorded and in this case Jarvis Cocker dancing around at his in-store gig at Rough Trade, London. The gig was the second occasion I have had the pleasure of meeting Jarvis and he is a thoroughly lovely chap. Oh, and if you are wondering what the song is it is 'Caucasian Blues' from the album 'Further Complications'.

Jarvis Cocker: "Matt? Is that like Matt with two T's?"
Matt: "Yeah; else it'd be like the sort you wipe your feet on"
Jarvis Cocker: "No one steps on you Matt."

My Mate...

2009-11-25T16:59:00.002Z

My Mate..., originally uploaded by NeueDeutsche.

Marmite.

This is an old photo from my Flickr account, every now and again I will be posting a random photo that I have taken; not for any reason other than to add another visual dimension to my blog.

Rabbit.

2009-11-22T17:18:00.006Z

My mind had erased all memory of this video until I was sat on the Oxford Tube this afternoon staring at the fields through drizzly window panes thinking about rabbits. It was Reading Festival a few years ago, the final day and all the bands were back safely in their porta-cabins. Myself, Joe and Jonny had reached new found levels of inebriation thanks to several bottles of Bourbon. We walked (sorry, stumbled) into a one of the huge marquees as a gaggle of dread-locked employees were cleaning up rubbish with pointy-ended sticks. This video was playing in the background. At the time it was far from what our whiskey soaked minds needed and from watching you'll probably understand why. Silent, motionless we watched in cloudy eyed awe:

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly.

2009-11-17T16:37:00.013Z

Yesterday our course had a visiting lecturer who happened to be my tutor from my BA degree. Dr. Roger Sabin is arguably the worlds leading expert on comic-book culture and has written numerous books and papers on the subject. I must confess, and Roger has been made well aware of this in the past that comics have practically escaped me. The few occasions I have read any comics were when I purchased the ever so occasional Beano or Dandy when I was a child (more interested in the promotional drumstick lolly) or when I was given a (for what was the majority sexually explicit) copy of 2000 A.D when they were being given away in Newquay as a part of a promotion (I was about 10 years old at the time.)

In the course of the lecture/seminar we discussed comic books in relation to wider cultural concerns and I would like to further discuss one of the points I raised in the discussion duration. It seems to me that comic characters differ greatly when looking at the American and British output contrastingly. In America most superheros start off as dowdy geeky sorts with little hope in life and are subsequently transformed into a 'hero' with muscles, personality and earth saving abilities. In Britain however our comic book characters are similarly geeky, flawed and outsiders but make a virtue of it through rebellion and making the best of what has been given to them.

It is also interesting to note how the 'ideal' physique is represented. Let's look at Clark Kent/Superman as an example:

Here we see Clark Kent as civilian, nothing remarkable in his appearance with 'preppy' style and large framed glasses, an unassuming character.

...and here we see Clark Kent transformed as Superman with over-accentuated muscular structure, minus spectacles, clothing with a figure hugging silhouette. To me this has a lot to do with specific targeting and the quest for 'The American Dream.' Comic books, for the most part are read by adolescent boys and always have been. These days (in particular) this audience is seen as 'geeky' and the sort of audience who are not particularly renowned for their suave lothario nature (I am well aware this is a massive generalisation but I feel it humorously illustrates my point.) American comics seem to make the 'Average-Joe' uncomfortable with their god-given lot and yes, YOU too can be 'a' Superman if your heart desires. This notion is backed-up with the inclusion of specific advertisement alongside the comic strips, spot-creams and Mountain Dew all apparently making you one step closer to invincibility.

Before I go onto give British examples I shall stick with this theme of 'Americanization' and look now to Action Man as he is known here, or, over the pond as G.I. Joe.
Once again we have an instantly noticeable difference in physique ideals; Examples:

Here we see British 'Action Man' slight of figure, gormless expression, the only real 'action' coming from a little toggle at the rear of his head to make his eyes move.

...and here is G.I. Joe with highly emphasised torso, once again America seems to give it's children a different ideal for aspiration complete with 'dynamic' facial expressions, all features are made larger apart from the feet which need to fit into standardised army boots giving the doll strange proportions which is not necessarily the case with 'Action Man.'

With this in mind let's look at some of Britain's most beloved comic book characters:

Billy Bunter as one example endears himself to use through humorous and obsessive gluttony and he is not the only character whose main trait was to eat, this seems to be a uniquely British fixation far removed from the ultra-fit and honed figures of American comics and toys.

Desperate Dan was the main character of The Dandy, a character whose 'superhero' status was played out through the consumption of enormous pies made from entire cows horns n' all.

The Bash Street Kids were featured in the pages of The Beano, a British institution, each character weirder, uglier and more flawed than the next to some children these characters were heroes because of their rebellious anti-parental, anti-establishment stance.

It seems that here in Blighty we are most comfortable when poking fun at our foibles, muscle and brawn are not conducive to the alleviation of social status. Instead we would much rather show our mettle through eating epic pies, placing a whoopee cushion under a teachers posterior or being rotund and funny looking. Here we are more than happy to be Clark Kent as opposed to Superman and aspire to an Action Man who looks like Nicholas Lyndhurst.

Books (1)

2009-11-15T17:35:00.009Z

I thought I would let you know the books I have recently read, am currently reading or have recently purchased with the intention of reading in the non to distant future. I have a slight problem in that if I see a book I want in a shop (or anywhere else for that matter) more often than not I have to buy it; when it comes to books I have no control and I have somewhere in the region of 800 of the things in my possession but to be honest I've lost count as half of them are back at my parents house in Cornwall.

Anyway, here, for your delectation, a few tomes:

On Some Faraway Beach: The Life & Times of Brian Eno - David Sheppard. (Eno Biography)

20 Jazz Funk Greats - Drew Daniel. (Throbbing Gristle Album)

Cowley Road: A History - Annie Skinner. (Cowley Road, Oxford)

Miracles Of Life - J.G. Ballard. (Ballard Autobiography)

Bryan Ferry.

2009-11-11T22:22:00.005Z

"You never bother about anyone else, you're well educated with no common sense, but love, that's one thing you really need to get by."

A Really Good Time - Roxy Music.

Recipease.

2009-11-09T16:06:00.006Z

I have heard a lot about Recipease, the new Jamie Oliver ‘food and kitchen shop’ in Clapham. I am a self-confessed armchair foodie, I enjoy food immensely but enjoy nothing more than watching food television, flicking through a (dare I say) glossy celebrity-chef endorsed recipe book or magazine. Jamie Oliver fits into the ‘celebrity chef’ bracket more than most and ‘Recipease’ helps to back this notion presenting Oliver as a global brand with shelf upon shelf of Oliver-face-endorsed merchandising.

We enter the ‘shop’ in a huddle and we are immediately greeted by the cheery chirpings of the staff, who incidentally are lovely in every sense of the word but I am not entirely convinced that they didn’t go through some rigorous ‘pucka’ lingo training programme in order to fill employment briefs. No grey hairs in sight the staff are bouncy and ‘street’ and only just on the correct side of being, to use a food pun, cheesy. We are here to make Risotto, in our case of the wild mushroom variety.

We are told to gather around the central station and we are taken through the basic elements of what makes the dish but just before we even touch a pan we are given an Orwellian message from on high in the form of a DVD introduction from the great man himself. Jamie (it seems more than appropriate to refer to him by his first name) wishes us luck and tells us that we are in the capable hands of the ‘kitchen champions’ which is Recipease lexicon for ‘chef.’ Our kitchen champion makes it known that Jamie and herself are good mates and should you have any burning questions as regarding him as a person to please let her know.

First we are told to turn our hobs to ‘5’ an order that I find disturbingly succinct, in-fact all margins of potential error are removed and all ingredients are ready chopped, measured and arranged as if they are ready for a screening as part of a television recipe. Is it any wonder we are about to create ‘the perfect Risotto?’ In-fact the only stage in the creation that allowed a refreshing foray into dangerous inaccuracy was when our ‘kitchen champion’ splashed wine into our pans with seemingly unforeseen gay-abandon and we were then allowed to season creations to our own palettes.

After some stirring and pouring, but only when told to do so and a few variations in hob temperature anywhere between 1-5 we are told to dish and present the finished product and not unsurprisingly it tasted wonderful.

We ate with cutlery forged with the J-Me branding, cooked with utensils and drank out of coffee cups all bearing the proprietors name with a few Jamie magazines nonchalantly strewn about the table. Although I admire Jamie Oliver it is seemingly and increasingly more for his canny business sense these days than anything else. The only Jamie Oliver products I own are in the medium of printed word but then again that is the nice thing about recipe books, you can do your own measuring, add extra ingredients if you are feeling so inclined and to any amateur, young and not even necessarily enthusiastic cook the writings of Oliver are as good a place as any to start.

At £35 per person it is a nice gift for anyone who wishes to pass an hour or so with guaranteed results although if you are the adventurous sort and doesn’t like to be bound to portioned ingredients and cooking on ‘5’ I would suggest buying Oliver’s book ‘Jamie’s Kitchen’ instead where you can find an identikit version of the recipe and of course so much more besides. As a closing point I feel I should also let you know that if you are indeed going to visit the shop you can even walk away with an authentic Jamie ready-meal, plant-pot or hand-cream. Need you shop anywhere else? With a growing online shopping empire, maybe not.

(Image: http://earthfirst.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/jamie-oliver.jpg)

William S. Burroughs.

2009-10-20T22:33:00.004+01:00

William S. Burroughs demonstrates his weapon collection.

A Taste of T.G.

2009-10-17T20:01:00.006+01:00

Throbbing Gristle - Something Came Over Me - Live 1981.

Playmobil.

2009-10-15T23:49:00.009+01:00

My mum is currently clearing out the attic so she phoned me earlier today to see what I want to do with my old stuff in particular the tens of boxes of Playmobil I owned as a child. KEEP IT, came my reply. When I was a child I had all sorts of Playmobil and it kept me occupied for hours; I am 22 next week yet even at this ripe old age I still take great glee in thumbing through a copy of the annual Playmobil catalogue if even only to see how times have changed and for nostalgia purposes. I am now interested in Playmobil as a design-object and I admire it's simplicity and diversity. I bought a book last year called 'Playmobil: The Story Of A Smile' and it is reassuring to see that I am not alone in this fandom. Adults the world over are creating stop-motion videos from Playmobil characters and accessories and posting them on YouTube, some are collecting and some are simply buying it for a new generation of children. Playmobil has longevity due to the fact it is timeless, easy to grasp and can easily be appreciated by all. There are no negatives in Playmobil (the smile on the figures faces say it all) please enjoy this advert from 1986 (the year before I was born)...

The 1980s.

2009-10-05T22:09:00.011+01:00

The 1980s seen through a set of anxieties demonstrated in the medium of moving image:

The Blogger Returns.

2009-10-05T21:40:00.004+01:00

I have decided it is high time I sorted the wheat from the chaff as regards this Blog. I have just started an MA in 'Design Writing Criticism' and we were told to start a Blog, as I already had one it was rather easy to indulge myself in this advice however I couldn't help but notice that the Blog I saw before me was out-dated, boring and a lot of my opinions have changed for the better, this is not a bad thing, it's nice to look back (sometimes) although I thought I would start a-fresh a move symbolic of a new chapter in my life and studies.

I will aim to update these pages as much as possible although I cannot promise to be up-to-the-minute with opinions and wit. Even in this fast moving technological age where I could Twitter myself to death if I so choose sometimes these things take time as a great and gloriously miserable man once said.

Although I am essentially a qualified and published critic (with certificates and magazine articles to prove it) a picture can say a thousand words if not more so I shall look outside the box marked 'discourse' and try to make this Blog not only a platform for provocation of thought through text but also a visual... (dare I say 'experience'..?)

With thanks for now. Matt.