Hunger - Review

Turner Prize winner Steve McQueen is perhaps one of Britain's most significant artists. He is best known for his work using film, yet Hunger is his first feature film. It is an exploration of life inside the notorious Maze prison near Lisburn, Northern Ireland, in 1981. The experiences of both the paramilitary inmates and the guards are examined, as well as the events up to and including the Bobby Sands-led hunger strikes. McQueen has directed and co-written what is an extraordinary technical and artistic achievement.

After a quiet opening depicting the monotony of a prison guard's life we meet Davey Gillen (Brian Milligan), a new prisoner in the H-Blocks. He begins his sentence at the height of the Blanket and No Wash Protests. The prisoners wanted recognition as political prisoners which would include, among other demands, the right to wear their own clothes. They refused to wear prisoner's clothes and so wore their blankets. They refused to wash or empty their chamber pots. Thus as Gillen is thrown into his cell we see the faeces that is pasted across every inch of his new home. As his cellmate Gerry Campbell (Liam McMahon) demonstrates to him, and us, how to achieve this level of filth, the stench practically fills the cinema.

The film progresses and we follow Gillen through his education at the Maze, the beatings and the humiliation as well as the drastic steps to communicate with the outside world. We also see the experiences of the prison guards. Raymond Lohan (Stuart Graham) is shown as he checks for bombs beneath his car before driving to work. Later an officer weeps uncontrollably as his colleagues in full riot gear mercilessly beat the inmates. It is a desperate and terrible place for everyone within the prison walls.

Sides are not taken and the prisoners are not glorified as martyrs. The reality of the situation is shown unflinchingly. There is no sentimentality; emotions are reined in with just one brief use of music. McQueen does not force sympathy from us. He forcefully confronts us with bleak historical truth that we must consider for ourselves.

McQueen's approach is distilled quite expertly during one 22-minute single take. Having been introduced to Jimmy Sands (Michael Fassbender), we watch as he meets Fr Dominic Moran (Liam Cunningham) to discuss the hunger strike he is about to embark upon. The camera is still, watching the two men as they sit facing each other playing verbal chess for the very highest stakes. The script, by McQueen and playwright Enda Walsh, is almost entirely played out here; the rest of the film has little dialogue. As Fr Moran and Sands sit down to talk, the work done by both actors and writers is worthy of every superlative you can throw at it. Like viewing a great painting I stared at the screen, utterly captivated by the back and forth of the two men. Fassbender embodies Bobby Sands's incredible strength of will and sense of purpose. Doubts flicker through his speech though, as the Republican priest repeatedly questions Sands's motivations and the effect his death will have. The scene is an amazing technical achievement but it never feels epic or grand. It remains simply a conversation, a long, engrossing and important conversation, but a conversation none the less.

The final act of the film is almost entirely dialogue-free. This is the total physical breakdown of a human being. Objects shift in and out of focus while sounds are muffled and inaudible. The shots of Sands's chillingly emaciated body are neither gratuitous nor sensationalist. They are put on screen in an attempt to convey in some way what he went through. As with much of the film the starvation is very difficult to watch, though there is something fascinating about seeing this alien shape as it struggles to move its very eyelids. The end we know from the start, but when it comes the inevitable is still expressed in an interesting and provocative manner.

The only criticism I can offer is that the film provides little explanation of the circumstances leading up to the protest, the acts of the prisoners that led to their imprisonment or the effects of the hunger strikes themselves. Yet in truth it doesn't need this explanation. It is a meditation on the hunger strike and the experience of those in the prisons, as well as a wider look at the question of what it means to truly die for a cause.

In a week when the latest James Bond film is released, there is little question of which film is the better, worthier or more accomplished. Bond is violence glamourised, digitised and belittled - packaged to sell a plethora of products. Hunger is violence at its most brutal, pain at its most visceral and suffering at its most real. I can only urge you to go see this quite brilliant piece of work. It isn't an easy film to watch and it's difficult even to call it rewarding. It is, however, a powerful and tremendously important piece of filmmaking.

Emmy the Great - Interview

Immediately I fail to ingratiate myself with Emmy the Great. She is smiling and more than willing to talk, but press-fatigue is evident in her voice as another ignorant journalist snatches her sound and tries to pin it down in the handy box of definitions he brought along. “Anti-Folk was in New York in the nineties, but that, again, doesn’t apply anymore. When something happens that is a reaction to something, or is vital and crucial for a moment, it dies out really quickly.” Suitably schooled, I avoided further talk of definitions and movements. I had tried to wrestle her music into a little box called folk, but she wrenched it from my grasp and set it free in a Narnia-sized wardrobe named “indie.”

The topic of genre rarely fails to irritate musicians, so I threw the letter D in there and asked if Emmy was particularly conscious of gender when she writes music? “Well, all my songs recently have been about a break up, it’s from the female perspective.” Her songs range from the playfully rude to the sexually explicit. Perhaps people react differently to this frankness because she’s a woman? “I have a male friend who said he heard my album and he felt defensive on behalf of men, he said we’re not all that bad. No you’re not all, but it was just this one person whose character I was trying to assassinate. I found it really interesting that my male friends would listen to my music and get bridled.”
Readers of the award-winning music magazine The Stool Pigeon may know more about Emmy the Great than they think. For a year now she has been writing sporadically under the dastardly cunning pseudonym of Emmy Moss. Although she harbours no ambitions to be a journalist, “it’s really helpful being on the other side. It gives you real insight; I know when not to probe, and I would never be rude to a journalist because so many artists have been rude to me. It’s like, how great do you think you are? I’m interviewing you because you’re in a really cool band and I think you’re really good, don’t be an arsehole about it.” A colourful but short article in the October issue of The Stool Pigeon demonstrates such behaviour. Emmy had tried and, due to his temper, resoundingly failed to interview Yoni Wolf (of the band Why?). Even though he’d previously agreed to do the interview he was unhappy and had, she wrote, “the look of a caged animal about to be experimented on, or someone who is being asked to hand over an internal organ.” Although she displays remarkable empathy when discussing it, “I completely understand, he was in a really bad mood, but you can’t then be an arsehole and expect someone not to write that you were an arsehole. Sure you’re playing the worst venue in Brighton but surely you want to be written about? You make music surely you want people to hear about it?”.
Emmy doesn’t want to take the journalism thing much further, “ if you go too far to the other side you will never be a Jedi.” The dark side? “It’s not the dark side it’s just the other side. When you’re a critic you’re always observing and not just enjoying. When you’re playing music you don’t want to have to see other bands like that you want to be able to interact with them. You have to stop being a critic when you’re playing music.” With an album out in February, her confidence is only growing. “I started taking responsibility for my songs. I used to be like, the song will come out, I’m not gonna look at it, it’s gonna come out and then I’m just gonna play it. Then I started looking at them and saying, I don’t like that and putting something else in because I didn’t like that that line. Taking responsibility for it.” A reputation for spikiness had preceded her, but Emmy proved thoughtful and funny. I for one can’t wait for her first album... it’ll be great!

Nigel Slater - Interview

Nigel Slater belongs in a tiny group of people who are truly beloved, unique and irreplacable (other members include Stephen Fry and David Attenbrough). In a huge simmering vat of food writers, only one is perfectly seasoned. His charming descriptions of food and his serious yet simple recipes effortlessly convey what Real Food is about; pleasure.

In his autobiography, Toast, Nigel describes a childhood remembered through food. From an early age he displayed an aptitude for cooking that, as the book details, often went unnoticed. “I really wanted to be a chef, I wanted the checked trousers and the big hat.” So after four years studying food tech, he went to work as a chef. Anyone who’s worked in kitchens knows they are often quite unpleasant environments. Gordon Ramsay, Britain’s most famous (and for some reason actually popular) chef, is a crude, profane and violent bully. Nigel in contrast, is thoughtful, friendly and incredibly nice, he doesn’t seem like someone who would enjoy the professional kitchen environment. “I was lucky. I worked in small places where there were only three or four cooks. It was at first an enjoyable experience, I liked the people I was cooking with. When I tried to move to a larger, I suppose a more high powered environment, then I really lost my way.” Professional kitchens are often fairly scary and overtly, aggressively masculine places. “It was very aggressive. Also very laddish, very boysy, very sexist, which I didn’t enjoy. But also I think I was out of my depth from a professional point of view, because there’s a difference between cooking, which I was doing previously and which I absolutely love doing, and getting very smart high-powered food out to a restaurant that’s very busy, it’s totally different.”
To the relief of cooks everywhere, Nigel soon made the move from cook to writer. He began testing recipes for a new food magazine, A La Carte, after his editor liked what he was writing in his testing notes, he wrote a few pieces for the magazine. “Then I heard on the grapevine that British Marie Claire was launching and I just wanted those pages, I loved French Marie Claire and I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do.” Even though he was completely unknown, they decided to take him on. What followed was, to the delight of cooks everywhere, ten published books and numerous magazine and newspaper columns.
Lot’s of Nigel’s book titles use the word “Real.” He’s written Real Food, Real Cooking, Real Fast Food and more. It’s a simple yet powerful description of his cooking. Using simple techniques and good quality ingredients is part of it, but he revels in writing about the joy of cooking. “I want people to understand the pleasure that there is in cooking. I’ve always felt, even when I was a kid, that making something for somebody, putting it in front of them, eating it with them or watching them eat it. I think it’s a huge huge pleasure, what it does to your sense of wellbeing to actually make a meal for someone is such a life-enriching process.” Nigel doesn’t just find pleasure in the finished dish, he always writes of the excitement and enjoyment in the entire process of making a meal. The greedy licking of fingers as you feverishly peel mangoes, the smell of garlic filling the kitchen. Unlike the clinical and cold writing of some better known chefs, Nigel’s focus on the pleasure of cooking makes his writing unfailingly pleasurable to read.

The UK’s food culture has transformed in the past decade. The souffle has risen quite spectacularly, to the point that now, not only are there hundreds of food writers, but the qualification of being married to a chef is enough to net you an eight book deal. With limited shelf-space, the marketable chefs are promoted, while the the others sit at the back of the cupboard like a jar of forgotten yet delicious apple chutney. I wondered how Nigel felt about this cornucopia of food writers? “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, the harm is, I suppose, when somebody hasn’t done their homework and they publish recipes that aren’t workable or they’re not tested. You do see a few where you wonder where they’ve come from, or should I say you actually know where they’ve come from. There’s a lot of people who don’t quite understand about copyright.”
One inescapable element of UK food culture, however fringe, is that gastronomic search for perfection. The quest for culinary ecastasy, spearheaded by pioneering gastronaut Heston Blumenthal of The Fat Duck. This is the use of foams, water baths and mystical alchemy to distil the very essence of flavour. The contrast with Nigel’s lack of fussiness is obvious, how does he feel about this gastronomic revolution? “It certainly is interesting and I don’t have a problem with it if people enjoy that sort of eating, and to a certain extent I suppose I do. The fact that I haven’t been to The Fat Duck probably says an awful lot. But it is very interesting it really is, and whilst I would never put it down, it’s just not something that interests me. I much prefer just sitting round the table with people eating something delicious. Rather than taking it to pieces and analysing every last detail of it. But if you’re in the pursuit of some sort of restaurant perfection, which I think Heston is, then fine all power to you.”
One of the delights of Nigel’s writing, particularly his columns, is the conversational style they’re in. It invites replies and correspondence, something he recieves in abundance. I wanted to know if he ever tries the recipes people sends him. “Sometimes, and sometimes they’re very delicious. Or they will offer an idea about something I’ve made, they make it but then they go off piste and say no I did this or I did that.” Does he try the adaptations? “Sometimes, it depends what it is, last Sunday I’d done a recipe for fig tarts in The Observer, by 1:00pm somebody had sent me a photograph of the tart they’d made, but they’d made just one big one instead of lots of little ones, and I thought yeah that’s a very nice idea.”
More than just being a great writer, Nigel is a fantastic cook. His recipes don’t just make you excited about cooking, they taste wonderful. From his absolutely extraordinary ‘Lentils with Cream and Ginger’ (Real Cooking) to the sublime ‘Stove Top Dauphinoise with Pancetta and Rocket,’ (Real Food), he is a fabulously talented cook. I asked him what he thought makes some people truly great cooks. “I do believe some people are natural cooks, you’d be amazed at the number of people who will read a cookbook or a magazine, they’ll look at a recipe and they’ll think ooh yeah I’ll have a go, then they close the magazine and they’ll make it. They just cook, it’s part of their DNA. They know when something’s going to work, they know how much of something to put in, they perhaps haven’t even been taught to cook.” It’s innate? “Yeah. Sometimes I look at people and I just think I bet you’re a great cook. You can just tell, other people need to be told every last detail, and the scary thing is, people follow your recipe to the letter and that is slightly worrying, when you say cook something for 25 minutes - and everybody’s ovens are different - they take it out after 25 mins and it’s still raw and they think the recipe doesn’t work.”

As our conversation drew to a close, I felt priveliged and honoured. Nigel Slater is more than just a national treasure, he is everything that is good about cooking. He makes cooking fun and pleasurable, not by shouting at you or ramming his message down your throat. Through exqusite recipes, thoughtful prose and empassioned greed, he defines everything that I love about cooking. Before letting him go I had to ask him what he was cooking that evening. “Pork chops with red chard,” he replied, something I’ll buy from the market as soon as I can, because frankly, anything that’s good enough for Nigel Slater, is good enough for me.

Magnetic Man - Gig Review - Scala Oct 08

Like a call to prayer I hear the dark dubstep beats. Knees bending I begin to bounce bounce bounce. Not many people here so early. Dancefloor’s empty. Good. More and more and more room to dance dance dance. Arms and legs and hands, each pop of each part of my body is to a beat.

I’m sweating. I’m thrashing it around the dancefloor. Hmm. Need brief respite. I’m leaving the dancefloor. Oh no. Catastrophe. I’m seeing them now. All of them. I hate them all. You’re posh. You’re posh. You’re a twat. You’re a nob. You’re posher. You’re caked in make up and smell of vanilla perfume. What are you doing here? You’re checking to see who’s looking at you. Why are you here? Get out. So this is it. The end. I’m here in dubstep and it’s being ruined. I’m probably doing some damage myself. I’m too middle class to like this. I’m devastated, this fucking incredible moment in music was all to fleeting. I’m watching the twats as they wrest it away in their dickish look-at-me clothes with their juvenile self-obsession.
I’m back on the dancefloor. Appleblim is playing an impressive support set, albeit with maybe one two many bassy wobblers.
Time for the main act. I’m still dancing, I’m trying to ignore the posh fucks. Skream, Benga and Artwork are taking to the stage, each hiding behing an Apple. I’m being amazed. I’m momentarily distracted by four horrendously confused girls with neon shades and flashing necklaces as they constantly take pictures of themselves. I’m resisting the temptation to throttle them. I’m turning around, sinking into the music. The future sound of the underground is being mixed live before my eyes. Each producer is providing samples and beats and mixing it all together. I cannot resist. I’m moving harder and faster. I’m becoming more volatile. I’m losing myself in dubstep. I’m wanting bass. More bass. I move to the the speaker. More bass. I’m humping the speaker. I’m literally humping the speaker. Uh oh. There’s other people here. I’m embarrassed. I’m leaving. I’m happy.

Benga and Skream - Interview

To borrow a phrase from the Matrix's Oracle, dubstep is a bit like being in love. No one needs to tell you this is dubstep. You just know it through and through. The love metaphor is particularly apt, because hearing dubstep for the first time on a proper sound system, is a lot like falling in love. Metaphors seem to be the only adequate way of conveying the rush of exhilaration felt when the first wave of dubstep crashes on to you. The most accurate comparison is that of coming up for the first time on ecstasy, even though you're completely sober. As the bass rattles your ribs you find your knees bending, with that low centre of gravity you begin to bounce. The beat rolls through your entire body and with a rush of realisation you're simultaneously incredibly excited by this new sound and pining for all those lost years of your life that you weren't listening to dubstep.

It can't be described, it needs to be felt, but nonetheless there are elements of dubstep that are at the least recurring themes. Vocals are rare, tracks usually have a 140bpm, big wobbly bass lines and a syncopated (often 2-step) drum pattern. Yet this is still a relatively young genre which is always pushing the boundaries of its own definition. Producers bring in samples from a plethora of places and other musical genres. The variety is particularly impressive, given the relatively microscopic roots of the genre.
The sound grew out of a mish-mash of Grime, Garage and Dub. Yet the scene itself grew out of one small area of South London, one record store, one club night and a small number of talented individuals. There are a number of names who can be credited for creating and growing the genre in its early days, Kode9, Mala, Coki, Loefah and Hatcha among a few others. No list though, would be complete without two of the most prodigiously talented producers out there, Benga and Skream (Beni Uthman and Oliver Jones respectively). Both are just 21 and both have been involved in the scene since its inception. Even if you've never heard of dubstep, it's practically guaranteed you will have heard their two biggest tracks. Skream's Midnight Request Line came out in 2005 and is considered one of the most recognisable dubstep hits, as well as a pivotal moment in dubstep history. It opened up new ideas for producers, and the tempo change in the middle is seen as particularly important. Benga's collaboration with Coki in early 2008 produced the electronic anthem Night. If you've been to a club in the past eight months then you've probably heard it. I talked to both of them about the genre, its future and their place in it.
Dubstep is relatively unusual, in that it is now undeniably international, with people all over the world producing music, yet there is still that small group of pioneers who people look to and who are so much more visible than other producers. I wondered if they saw themselves as still part of the movement or just as producers making some tunes. Benga does want to "move it forward," and he added caveats only I suspect through modesty, "I'm not saying I'm some dubstep captain, I'm just saying that I do see things and think, right we've got to try and push it in this direction or that direction. We should get into this or get out of that. I'll sometimes occasionally say we need to do this or we need to do that, but it's not like I'm some leader of it." He thinks he couldn't keep dubstep afloat single handedly, "there is more of this movement thing where everyone's doing their own thing and we all play each other's music and it all helps." Skream situates himself in the middle "There is movement and then there's just people making tunes. I've been involved in the scene since I was 13 so I would say I'm someone who's tried to push it forward, I don't just make tracks. I can only speak for myself though, I'm just writing." This is no longer an embryonic genre, perhaps it doesn't need to be pushed. "The scene's developed, a lot of the hard work's done, for me I'm just looking at building myself as a producer." Skream has been labelled, to his chagrin, the ambassador of dubstep. It is a fairly accurate description of how important he is to the scene, but he eschews the title, " I don't really like that term though, it's a bit wankerish, but it wasn't like I really carried it all on my own, there's a number of people like obviously Benga, Digital Mystikz and Kode9. "
Benga and Skream, along with another producer called Artwork, have for a while now, been performing intermittently as Magnetic Man, in what is a live dubstep act. There are no MCs just the three of them with their laptops. Each attempted to explain what exactly this live dubstep act is about. Benga tried first, "We have three laptops, and um we basically do live remixing." What is your role as an individual? "Well it's kind of hard to explain." Do you all have different roles? "No, basically it's like, thee laptops all midi-linked and it's live editing and live mixing." I resolved to go see the act before I understood it, deciding the failure in comprehension was entirely my own ignorance. I asked Benga how it was different from the crowd. "You hear the same song when a DJ plays it, but when it's live you hear it differently, things are mute, basslines are on their own, drums are on their own at certain times." It all sounds very exciting, perhaps more involving for the crowd than a DJ set, but it's a different experience for the producers, as Skream said, "You're just standing there, you're not moving as much as when you do a DJ set, you're still like moving your head or whatever. It's fucking wicked, but sometimes I miss that energy of when you're jumping around and you're grabbing and looking for tunes."
I'd read that Skream has 1500 tunes he's currently working on, this out of date figure pales in comparison to the current number, roughly 8000 (I waited an extra ten minutes as his PC counted them all). "I'm not saying they're all finished, but they're all ideas and you just do it. You start something then you get another idea so you start something else then you get another idea, then you go back and finish two off then you get another three ideas out of one track." How long could it take to produce one track? "I can do two in a day. It depends, if you've got all the elements there. It just works. Things start coming easily, you automatically just hear something and go, fuck me that goes there! You're mind just starts working automatically. You almost know what's coming out." Skream has been known for really pushing the boundaries of dubstep, I was interested to see whether he’d thought about producing anything of a completely different genre. “I’ve been doing some work with Jamie T. It’s completely different to dubstep, 150bpm, 808 drums with him playing the bass.”
Skream’s work with Jamie T sounds exciting, but there is always that danger we’ll see the genre diluted as it gets a taste of commerical success. “I wouldn’t sell myself out, if I was just gonna do it for the money and not think that I could get something out of it then I probably wouldn’t do it.” Yet once the sound gets out in to the wild it is a far harder beast to tame. The international scene is growing exponentially, North America in particular. "The scene over there at the moment is like London was in like 2005/2006, where it's still new to a lot of people." Canada as well, Skream played Shambhala (the best festival in the world, see below) for the second year running this summer. "Shambhala was fucking wicked man, and the actual DJ set was one of my favourite sets I've ever played as well."
There are dangers of such growth though. At the moment a small number of people are, as Benga puts it, “pushing the cause. If you Google dubstep you see a few faces a lot more than others.” Inevitably there will be people who take the sound and corrupt it. There is a new Britney track, “Freakshow,” that has an omnipresent bass wobble. Perhaps a signifier of worse things to come. Dubstep is the anti-thesis of modern pop music; never about image, style or sales and only ever about the music. As long as these pioneers keep pushing the boundaries, this tremendous new sound will continue to evolve and excite.

Magnetic Man are playing at Scala on the 9th October.

Shambhala

The Salmo River Ranch is nestled deep in the heart of the Kootenay Mountains just north of the 49th parallel. Visitors and locals alike are amazed at the beauty of these sharp young mountains overrun by coniferous trees. They led the Canadian province of British Columbia to advertise itself, somewhat audaciously, as “The Best Place on Earth.”
The Ranch is unrivalled in the devotion it commands and joy it inspires. For the past eleven years it’s been home to the annual Shambhala Music Festival. Yet it feels sacrilegious to label it as simply another electronic music festival. Shambhala is so much more than that. Unrivalled and unsurpassed anywhere in the world, it is a singularity, a confluence of factors combining to catalyse an explosion of sheer ecstasy.
Ten thousand people flock to the Ranch each year and on the first day tents are erected throughout the jumble of fields, forests and a river. Various stages dot the landscape, each offering a unique experience. The Fractal Forest, with its turntables in the middle, is surrounded by towering trees. Lasers refract through the mist, piercing the raindrops and bouncing off branches, drawing astonished gawps from the throng of revellers. Trees are plastered with glowing paintings, giant dreamcatchers and in one corner is a massive silver pyramid. In every direction paths lead to other stages. The trails cut through the forest, lit by glowing orbs, twinkling fairy lights and sometimes only the glowsticks of the ravers who bear them. Vast neon paintings adorn the great trunks; intricate models of miniature houses populate the treetops, almost too high to see them. The next stage is The Village, an outer courtyard lays through tall wooden gates. Through a further set of doors the huge open dance-floor appears, surrounded by rising and falling platforms which are all connected, providing vantage points from every possible angle, though thousands of people are too busy dancing to watch. Countless paths lead out of The Village, going to tents, other stages and bizarre clearings full of odd people and abstract art you’d never find again at a second attempt. Walking further across bridges and through twisting glowing tunnels you eventually come to where the forest opens out to The Living Room, a beach stage burrowed twixt river and forest. Here is chilled out ambient music, for those relaxing, resting or simply sitting back and trying to take it all in. There are other stages, the Rock Pit, a dirty dance floor dug deep down into the ground, as well as The Pagoda and Labyrinth. Yet none contain the ethereal majesty or raucous energy of Fractal or The Village.
The music at Shambhala is the bassiest, most aggressive and most exciting line up of any festival anywhere. The sound system is a 90kW fire-breathing monster. The DJs play a twenty-four hour pounding mix of the very best dubstep, funky yet deliciously filthy electro, breathless drum and bass as well as that downbeat ambience some people crave. The line up this year included Skream (see interview above), Bassnectar, Bonobo and the prodigiously talented Excision.
This being high up in the mountains and in Canada, the pharmaceutical selection on offer is absolutely extraordinary. Everything is out in the open and whilst not expected, it is more than accepted. Any chemical high you’re looking for is here in abundance and for impressively low prices. This isn’t just a drug-addled mash up though. People at Shambhala for the most part will understand the narcotics they’re taking and be in control of their high. The first aid tent is top notch and there’s even a pill-testing tent for you to determine exactly what’s in those strange looking green things you just traded in exchange for a cigarette.
Yet when reflecting on why Shambhala is so magical, why it truly is the best five days of your entire year if not your life, it always comes back to the people. Everyone is so excited to be there. Here is a chance to behave with joyful abandon, dance from dusk through dawn and longer. An opportunity to wear whatever you want, be it beautiful, ridiculous, or indeed nothing at all. It is a common occurrence to hear incredulous cries of, “I can’t believe it’s really Shambhala” or “It’s really happening right now!” For those who’ve been before there is such joy that it’s here again, whilst Shambhala virgins are almost overwhelmed at being somewhere quite so fantastic. It is more common still, to hear people shouting, “Happy Shambhala,” as if at Christmas or Easter. The religious connotations of this are no coincidence. We are ravers. This is a rave religion and Shambhala is our annual pilgrimage. Non-believers must rethink their heathen ways and make their way however they can to Shambhala, for here truly is The Best Place on Earth.

Bestival 08

This was Bestival’s fifth birthday, and never before had there been any rain. What with friday’s forecast being for “a month’s worth of rain in a day” 30,000 odd people set out for the Isle of Wight with trepidation. Well it did rain. The word torrential has rarely been more apt. The mud was predictably about 8 to 10 inches thick across the entire site. Yet people still dressed up and the atmosphere was quite nice, especially on the Saturday afternoon when the sky became a slightly lighter shade of gray. The rain did get very wearing what with the effort to walk anywhere, the indoor stages being rammed and the large number of acts who had to cancel. Yet Bestival had various problems entirely separate to the rain. The sound systems were almost all very weak. Even if the systems had been better, the levels were often very badly judged. For example, when CSS were playing you could barely hear Lovefoxxx singing, which is madness because she’s the whole point of the band. When Aphex Twin was playing no one could tell he was actually on, the sound was so quiet everyone assumed it was just an in-between DJ. Also, the headliners were universally shit, apart from My Bloody Valentine. In addition, someone had the audacity to try and sell me Canderel, while claiming they were tablets of something considerably more exciting.
That said, Mary Anne Hobbs was brilliant and Jon Hopkins played an incredible set on the best system at the festival, until it broke, for the fourth time that weekend.
So in summary, it was quite fun. If you’re more a fan of the gleeful silliness and dressing up than quality sound systems or quality drugs, then next year head to Bestival, I won’t be there.

noah and the whale interview

first published 19th february 2008

If there is a folk revival happening in London, then Noah and the Whale, must surely be its emerging stars. With a couple of singles out and an album on the way, their support is growing as their sound evolves. I met them at the ICA, halfway through the Young and Lost Club’s (their label) first ever tour.
The band consists of five youngsters. Guitarist and lead vocalist Charlie Fink writes the music. A good-looking fella with a mass of dark curly hair, he's crafted a stage melancholy that seems to vanish when he's not performing. Charlie's brother Doug is the band's drummer, with the physique of an athlete he looks suspiciously like a young Willem Dafoe. Tom Hobden is the fiddler, a quiet and somewhat reserved chap. Laura Marling, her solo career currently on a stratospheric rise, sings and plays various percussion in the band, whilst Urby Whale plays bass as well as a cacophony of other instruments including the xylophone and harmonica.
I ask the band whether their group has a leader. A room of fingers all point at me, I fleetingly think they want me to join and lead them, after weighing up the pros and cons I realise they're pointing at Charlie who is standing next to me. Urby isn’t sure about the question, "Leader's a weird word. Focal point I think is better, Charlie's the man where it all starts." Laura reiterates this point. "If Charlie left it wouldn't be Noah and the Whale." In answer to this Urby comes up with an exquisite pun, "No, it'd be Laura Marling and the Whalers." With his ever-present hat and jovial grin, Urby is an articulate chap. Perhaps the best way to describe him is as someone with whom you know it would be truly spectacular fun to get drunk with. I had developed a theory that Urby was the creative centre of the band. This was based on little more than the fact that people who wear constantly wear trilbys are invariably creative and interesting. However, Urby himself as well as the entire rest of the band assure me that it is Charlie who is at the heart of the music they make. He’s an undeniably gifted writer and producer. He produced Laura's album, which is getting the plaudits it deserves, and he composes Noah and the Whale's music. This is a man who understands how to build complex musical structures. He’s also got a razor-sharp wit. A nice oozy camembert backstage, as well as a few throwaway comments, betray Charlie’s love for cheese. It would probably be a few years away but I hope he doesn't retreat to the country and morph into this generation's Alex James.
There are a significant number of artists in this country, as well as in the US, who are producing folk music. There has been an undeniable resurgence, if not in terms of a quantifiable increase in output, then at the very least as an influence on contemporary mainstream artists. It is far more acceptable now, for the lead singer of a rock band to occassionaly strum away on a 12 string acoustic. In my eternal quest for (yet constant struggle with) definition, I can reel off a list of different sub-genres and offshoots. There’s anti-folk, folktronica, indie-folk, folk punk, folk metal, glam-folk and plenty more. With all these people producing music, there are those commentators that would group them into certain genres. Do these groups exist? Is any “movement” merely the construction of a media eager to pin down and define? “I think it is basically a construct, it's a media thing. Having said that there are a lot of people playing similar kinds of music, but I don't know any of them.” It remains the case that a number of musicians with similar sounds are playing with and supporting each other. Although perhaps to define something as a movement their must be a marriage of individual action with collective intent. “I don't know, I think bracketing bands into groups demeans the music.. Each person’s individual ideas within that creative thing are much more important than the concept. That's not saying we don't think there's a lot of good people in that scene.”
One active proponent and star of the current anti-folk movement in London is Emmy the Great. Her songs combine comedic whimsy with an often very frank and honest pain. She used to play with Noah and the Whale but is no longer with the band. I had read a vicious internet rumour that Emmy was kicked out of the band. When I raised this question wih them, laughs erupt edfrom around the room, "Emmy's a very busy girl. She played music, we played music and she played with us, then she went to do her own thing." So is it a lie? "There was never a formalised thing saying she's got to play with Noah and the Whale. She was never under contract." I realized too late that cunning politicans they aren't, but no one had fully answered the question! However, I didn't sense a real amount of animosity and perhaps it's best if that story simply enters into anti-folk-lore.
Brilliant folk songs have been cropping up with alarming regularity on adverts for everything from mobile phones to cars. Think Joanna Newsom for Orange, Devendra Banhart for T-Mobile and a myriad of other similarly unpleasant examples. The plastering of beautiful music over some cack-handed corporate attempt to sell things, is, I feel, a horrible and jarring juxtaposition. The music that Noah and the Whale have released so far often has had a happy and uplifting texture to it and would probably be ideal for selling a whole host of different products. I wonder aloud how long it will be until a Noah and the Whale song is played in some advert. When the reply comes, "that's a very topical question," I get a little worried. "To be honest, I personally feel pretty nihilistic about that kind of thing. Not if it's a product we don't like, but if it was for cheese or cinemas or something." Urby suggests Ben and Jerry's. "Yeah, we wouldn't promote smoking or McDonalds but otherwise… I don't take adverts into account when I write music, so I just don't care really."
It felt wrong to ask a question about Laura Marling's solo career, even if it was in relation to the band as a whole, but she is selling a lot of records so it became an inevitable point to raise. Having spoken to Laura a week earlier, I was disappointed to see that the intervening period as a basically famous person hadn't lead to outrageous demands for champagne fountains, beluga caviar and bowls of exclusively blue Smarties. Like Dizzee with Roll Deep would Laura be bringing the band on her wave of success? "They're on their own wave of success." It's fascinating to see how the band deal with Laura's identity as a solo artist. A number of people in the crowd were excitedly chattering as they saw Laura appear on stage that night, perhaps unsure if she would actually be appearing. She though, is extremely unwilling to use this occasion to promote her own music. She says she wants the two to be seperate. There were clearly a number of people who were there at least in part to see Laura, when Charlie mentioned her album being out that day they raised an almighty cheer.
"I think we get classified differently by the media just because Laura's a solo artist and we're a band.” This may be true, although in fairness this could be because of the greater difficulty in interviewing a roomful of people rather than one individual. There is a real difference though, when trying to quantify an individual artist as compared to a band. A solo artist is literally one voice, one point of view and one person’s ideas. Yet with a band, even with the afore mentioned “focal point,” it’s more difficult to ascertain where the creative energy and inspiration comes from. The mass of discussions, compromises and executive decisions cannot be examined to be understood. Urby sums this conundrum up quite nicely. “Band's a different word to solo artist. It's two words.”
Noah and the Whale have had two singles pressed already. The first was “Five Years Time,” it provided a nice introduction to the band. Particularly the video, which helpfully names each band member. The song itself is an undeniably happy number. , the ukulele strumming giving it a certain bounce. The lovely chorus of “love love love, wherever you go” and some chirpy whistling put Noah and the Whale on the radar of a number of UK folk fans. The b-side “Jocasta” was less jolly but had a higher tempo. Doug’s urgent drumming on the frame of the drum is an interesting device he’s used a few times to good effect.
Their single out now is “2 Bodies 1 Heart.” It is a slower more ambient sound to their other work and just edges the right side of sentimental. It is somewhat overshadowed by the excellent “Rocks and Daggers.” A genuine crowd pleaser that has people clapping and singing along. It’s a nice track to see live as it allows fiddler Tom to show off his talents and the vocal harmonies come together beautifully.
The video to “2 Bodies 1 Heart” (and “Five Years Time”) was directed by James Copeman. The latter is a hilarious montage of the band as athletes. From the colours of the outfits to the angles and the actual cuts, if Wes Anderson directed music videos, this is precisely what they would look like.
Having recorded their album, I asked how similar it is to their previous output. “It's different from the singles. It's the texture. Some of it's very sparse, with sounds we'd never used before.” A video on youtube gives a tour of their studio. This is anything but lo-fi. Room after room of a plethora of instruments gives the impression of a more than complex recording process. “We’ve used a lot of distortion which links in with the grunge thing.” Kind of like post rock? To which Charlie suggests the magnificent, “post-grunge-folk.”
They reckon that the gig that night was the largest they’d ever headlined. With awareness growing and some sell out nights already it seems their future success is all but assured. How far do they think they’ll go? Charlie smiled sarcastically, “Heard of a little band called the Red Hot Chili Peppers? That's pretty much where we're headed.”
As partB’s exploration of success last week demonstrated, it’s a hard thing to define. “The thing about success is that you're never gonna have a constant goal.
I've don't think there's anyone who's had one goal, achieved it and then thought oh brilliant.” At this point Laura momentarily assumes the role of interviewer, “Wasn't your one goal to support this band called Thanksgiving, who no one's ever heard of anyway? Then you did it last year.” Charlie responds, “Yeah there was like 20 people. It’s true, our biggest ambition was to support Thanksgiving, then we did it and everything since has been downhill.”
Like any real artist, their goal isn’t this ill-defined notion of success. “to be honest, you write music completely independently of any goal you might have. You'll try and create the best thing you can create. Then once that's been done, you think, now what are my ambitions with it. But those ambitions are kind of, "who cares" ambitions, the creative ambitions are much more important.”

Noah and the Whale’s single “2 Bodies 1 Heart” is out now Young and Lost Club

a lass who can really sing - Laura Marling Interview

first published - 12th February 2008

I can’t tell whether she is being modest or she honestly doesn’t understand how popular she will be. I assure Laura Marling that this time next year she will have sold a boat-load of records and, for better or for worse, she will be really, really famous. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
Yet she must be aware of the following that is snowballing around the country. Perhaps when she first started seriously playing music a few years ago, she wouldn’t have expected it, but in the past six months her music has changed. Her fan base, having established itself will only continue to grow.
To those unfamiliar with her songs, she plays what could be described as folk music. Genre can constrain a musician but it does make it easier to describe, “I would call it folk for want of a better word, it's not really folk is it? I don't want it to be whiny bitchy girl music so…”
Her songs range from the hauntingly depressing to the strangely uplifting. Most have a prominent acoustic guitar with various layered percussion instruments. The one astonishing constant is her voice; a sound of such power and subtelty that it must be heard live to be believed. Her music is connecting with a growing number of people, she is going to be huge. I wonder if she wants that, “I'm not sure really. I was thinking about this today, I never wanted to be played on daytime Radio One. I never wanted that.” A bold statement from an up and coming act on a major label. This clearly isn’t her playing up to us, the alternative music press, mostly probably because she read partB for the first time last week. These seem to be the sentiments of a genuine musician. In an age where fame is craved, and success measured by how many magazine covers you’re on, it is nice to meet someone who will be wildly popular but simply wants to make her music. “I could certainly play in front of a hundred people for the rest of my life.”
So if it’s not coming from her, where does the pressure to be conventionally successfull come from? “It's not just the major label. It’s what people expect. People think that you want to be on daytime Radio One. People think you want to be famous. You feel that pressure to perform, that if you're not on daytime Radio One then you're not a success, but I don't want that!” Some could construe this as ungrateful, assuming that everyone on Radio One wants to be there. “When you first get started and people are making an effort to find out who you are that's really fun. You feel really appreciated as people come and look for your records. When you're on Radio One, snobby as it may sound, you're just being given to people.” Or even sold to people, “Yeah yeah exactly. I’m not gonna lie it can be pretty soul crushing. But you have no choice. They pick it up. You don't have to push yourself. Luckily I haven't been given to anyone yet.” It is only a matter of time though.
As her popularity grows she is starting to see that side of the musicians life that they leave out in the brochure. The endless promotion and plugging of your work. “I've never wanted to be interviewed by someone who doesn't know who I am and didn't want the interview that much, only it's their job. I've always been very selective with interviews.”
By the time you read this interview I suspect daytime Radio One listeners will be more than familiar with Laura Marling, although perhaps not with this beautiful philosophy, “At the end of the day who gives a fuck about what anybody else thinks?”
It would be easy to take what she says with a pinch of salt. The fact is quite a few of the songs she has made are quite radio-friendly. Although to be fair most of those songs were written much earlier in her career and she rejects a few of them now. At an in-store Laura did last week there were a lot of fifteen year old girls. A significant proportion were called Emily and a fair few asked her why she didn’t play “New Romantic” anymore. ‘New Romantic’ is a song that could have really pushed Laura Marling into the big time. It was a rather twee and fluffy acoustic number that was not bad but was hardly the most progressive folk music. I raised the topic of another of her old songs that long-time fans may look kindly upon, “London Town.” “It’s rubbish,” she tells me, I protest but she repeats herself, “Come on, I wrote that when I was fourteen, it’s rubbish.” I’m a little taken aback by such a brutal condemnation of her work but concede the ground. The truth is her early work was far from the finished article, but it demonstrated two things; she had an exquisite voice and a gift for poetry. She needed something else to propel her music to the next level, that something came in the form of one Charlie Fink.
Those that don’t take Laura seriously would do well to listen to Noah and the Whale. They are a grunge-folk band in which she plays and sings, although she doesn’t write for them. Their music has little danger of being played on Radio One any time soon. Arguably more optimistic than Laura’s music, Noah and the Whale with their complex array of ukulele, guitar, drums and other layered precussion produce a magnificent sound. Currently on indie label Young and Lost Club, they have recorded an album and are right now touring the UK. The single Five Years Time is out now and it is their happiest (if not their best) song. Laura describes Charlie as “incredibly talented”, and it isn’t that difficult to tell how much influence he’s had on her music. “Six months ago I'd never tried to put anything around my music. Then Charlie came in because I wanted him to produce it. We sat down and he said tell me what you want and I'll try and help you do it.” The melding of their formidable talents has resulted in something really rather special. After recording her four track EP My Manic and I, she went on to record her album, Alas I Cannot Swim, which is out now.
Alas I Cannot Swim is a phenomenal album. “Ghosts”, the first single is the opening number. It is beautifully subtle and hauntingly sad, every bar demands total attention from you. The other stand out track is “Cross Your Fingers”, a rather lovely but kind of bleak song. The one complaint I have with the album is that most of the tracks are played at a slower tempo than when she plays live. A speedier count would not have gone amiss, particularly on title track “Alas I Cannot Swim.”
The album is immediately trying to do something different and not just with its musical content. There are two versions available, one is a limited editon “Song Box.” It’s a big box which contains little mementos for each of the songs. They were designed by Laura wth artwork by Andrew Mockett. It looks quite similar to Joanna Newsom’s first album The Milk-Eyed Mender. There’s a board game, a little booklet with all the lyrics in, postcards and other delightful trinkets. It also contains a code to get a free ticket to the “Song Box tour.”
The idea for the Song Box was Laura’s. “My Dad was a sound engineer so I can’t stand downloads.” The cynic would probably put it that they’re simply trying to make more money. Whilst it is true this is an attempt to “scrape back people buying CDs,” it’s more about having a physical product. In terms of the mementos in the song box it is about “doing something special for people buying the album.”
Downloading is obviously seen as a problem by many people in the music industry. “It's weird because if I'd come in to this five years ago, this wouldn't be a problem.” Yet there are some interesting things happening to try and claw back those sales. The Song Box is one of them, in particular the idea of gig tickets is significant. It seems likely in the future a greater proportion of money will be made by live performances. Radiohead’s releasing of In Rainbows online in a pay-what-you-want format was a fantastic example of one way the industry could go. “That was a fucking cool idea, but they had the support of a record label for a good few albums. Fuckin’ well done to them though. Also they made more money out of the box that they sold.” ­
Laura gained a small degree of fame and notereity in October during a gig at the Soho Revue Bar. After being asked to leave the venue due to her being under 18, she performed an impromptu busking session. Her live performances, whilst not all as surprising as that, do defy expectations. There is no escaping the fact that she is quite a small person. With beautiful delicate features she refuses to wear make up on stage. Thus after a brief and unassuming intro to the crowd, when she unleashes her extraordinary voice upon them there is a certain air of disbelief that such a softly powerful sound is coming from such a diminuitive figure.
The 29th of January marked her first CD release. Previously the only format on which people could buy her music was vinyl. So even if she may disapprove, a significant number of fans have discovered Laura Marling on the internet. Youtube has become a wonderful way to discover music that artists don’t neccesarily have on their Myspace or on any peer to peer networks. This can only have helped Laura because the work done on her videos has been very impressive. James Copeman has worked closely with Laura on her videos. The video for her single Ghosts is particulary interesting. It features what looks like stop motion animation. I ask if she is involved with the videos much, “I wish I were. I just I have no vision like that. I’m completely useless at the visual things.” Yet Laura is basically obsessed with film. I ask her if Cloverfield is any good and I’m met with a scornfully patronising grimace any art school graduate would be proud of. Surely someone so interested in film should be part of the music video making process. “I'd like to, I just don't know enough. That's something I'm really interested in, something I wish I'd been offered at school. I might go on a film studies course.” So this leads me nicely on to the question of what Laura Marling’s going to do next.
First up she has the Song Box tour. The London date is on March the 6th at the Union Chapel but you need to buy the Song Box to get a ticket. She’s touring simultaneously with Noah and the Whale on their Young and Lost Club tour. I balk at the idea of her doing two tours at the same time. “I had this gig with them [Noah and the Whale] and it was meant to be my last gig with them but I couldn't really deal with that”
Having recieved a bass guitar for her birthday she’s already formed a punk band with Charlie Fink. A lot of commentators have mentioned the influence her dad had on her musical tastes, playing her various Neil Young records. However little lip service has been paid to how her Mum’s tastes affected hers. She says her mum is a huge punk fan and Laura adores punk. Although the one piece of music their band The 4Qs has recorded is “about as far from punk as you can get.”
She doesn’t yet know what direction her next album will go in. “That’s another thing that genre does, it confines you. I like the idea of doing something completely different on my next album... maybe plug-in.” There’d be more than one person shouting “Judas” on any future electric tour I reckon. Although with an electric guitar and a proper fuck-you attitude perhaps Laura would morph into this generation’s Debbie Harry.
The comparisons to her contemporaries made by some commentators range from the innaccurate to the frankly absurd. The only common denominator she can see is that rare quality of being female. At my suggestion of it being a London accent she swiftly reminds me that she doesn’t have a London accent but a Reading one. Of course the difference has nothing to do with accent nor indeed gender. “Honestly if anyone's actually heard my music I can safely say they won't seriously think that.”
Laura Marling is on top of a wave about to break. To ride it she will have to work hard and paddle furiously, to stay standing she must perform a remarkable feat of balance. Success is a must because alas, she cannot swim.

Alas I Cannot Swim is out now on EMI.

Review of The Real Greek

It came as a surprise to me that with such a proliferation of Greek restaurants, we needed one to explicitly state that it was the real one. Having never been to Greece I comment not on the authenticity of the food, only on this rather pleasant experience. Mezzes are the order of the day in Real Greece, these are basically Tapas but spelt differently. The basic idea is the same, lots of small dishes with contrasting textures and flavours. The danger with this type of meal is people can make poor choices with no sense of structure, each dish neither complementing nor balancing with any other. Low-grade amateur food critics would probably fall into this trap, sucked in by the range of choices into trying everything they could, so we did.
The dishes come in a stack like a savoury high tea with a lot of olive oil. Whilst I waited for Yates, I ordered a plate of Gigandes Plaki. They were detailed in the menu as "slow cooked giant beans from Kastoria in a rich tomato sauce." Whilst being generally realistic in my expectations, when something is described as "giant," I expect it to be so. If the trojan horse had been only somewhat larger than a regular sized horse, no one would have fit inside the fucking thing. If the cyclops had been a bit bigger than Oddyseus, then a swift poke with a stick would have got them out of that mess. If something is "giant" then it should be bloody massive. These beans were only quite big. So after my initial disappointment at the size of their beans, I took the plunge and had a forkful. I couldn't tell they were from Kastoria but they had a very humble and comforting texture. The tomato sauce was gentle enough to actually complement the beans, something Heinz cannot comprehend.
The food that seemed Real Greek was generally far superior. Bifteki, a burger with spring onions and thyme served with minted yogurt, was for example, much more interesting than Lamb Cutlets, which were essentially just grilled lambchops. The Lamb Kefte, a minced kebab with caramelised onions, coriander and spices had an air of authenticity to it that the grilled octopus could not muster.
Dessert was a similar affair, with a few Real Greek options. The ubiquitous Baklava was not as crispy as I would have hoped, although not without its honeyed charm. Kataifi is a greek dessert not too dissimilar to Baklava, it's actually a very thin pasta which went well with it's chopped pistachios and yet more honey.
The Real Greek may not be the most real restaurant nor even the most Greek, but it's not ludicrously overpriced for where it is (Covent Garden), and it’s quite a nice way to have a meal, sampling lots of different foods. Semantics are important though, so they must either change the name of the bean dish or genetically modify them to be huge.

Anarchy in the AA

Josh Heller meets Martin Cassini; the man spearheading a campaign to destroy traffic lights and make our roads a place of "peaceful anarchy."


Rarely is a truly innovative idea met with immediate and raucous approval. Martin Cassini, although he cannot take credit for the idea itself, has seen firsthand the resistance to initally shocking proposals, even when the strength of the argument is so overwhelmingly powerful.
Since 2000 Martin has been trying to get the attention of those who can make it happen, to eliminate traffic lights and remove needless road markings and street signs. There are few people who don’t react with derision when first confronted with this concept. Yet anyone who sticks around to actually hear what is said will struggle to disagree.
The idea, unlike our roads, is simple. The control and manipulation of the roads is forced on us from above, and this unnatural state of control is counterproductive as it shapes the way we behave. Traffic lights are almost totally unnecessary. They are rooted in a fundamental misunderstanding of how the brain works as we are naturally problem solving and co-operative. Traffic lights are telling us we’re stupid creatures who need to be herded around the roads. “Spontaneous order is a concept which states that the more complex the ballet of human movement the more futile our attempts to control it.” Traffic lights discourage the natural tendencies of negotiation and conflict resolution. Cars speed from light to light trying to beat them. Frequently traffic is forced to stop even when it is safe to go. This quite rightly enrages drivers, furious at an imbecillic system that makes no sense. Traffic lights are accidentally but brilliantly named, because they actually cause traffic. If there were no traffic lights we would see a natural flow of cars, congestion would be drastically reduced.
This point of view does not come from a horrible Jeremy Clarkson-esque demand for rights for road users. It demands a far greater concern and recognition of pedestrians than in the current system. People are often concerned that it would be more dangerous for pedestrians. Yet neither the intutition nor the actual results back this claim up. Drivers should naturally slow down when they see a pedestrian. When you put some thought to it, then you realise it’s quite a terrible situation to have the onus of responsibility on the pedestrians. We teach children to be so thoroughly careful about crossing the road that they should wait until there are no cars that could physically reach them. Meanwhile drivers are told never to slow down and simply allow pedestrains to cross.
“I hold traffic engineers and policy makers to account. they’re not deliberately guilty, but in their misguided way they have blood on their hands. Which ever way you look at it they have blood on their hands. Firstly for making our roads dangerous in the first place, for setting the stage for conflict. They cause “accidents”, which I call euphemisms for predictable events rising from the dangerous rules of the road, and secondly, for the extra emissions we get from idle traffic. 3,200 are killed on the roads in “accidents” but 40,000 die prematurely from respiratory illness exacerbated by particulates in the air.”
This is another important part of the concept, a reduction of wasteful emissions and needless pollution. As any cyclist knows, it takes a huge amount of energy to start a vehicle. “The start, stop, drive cycle required by lights maximises emmissions and fuel use. In a shared space or a deregulated scenario where you allow people to filter in turn, cars never have to come to a full stop. It kind of approaches slowly and glides through.” The current Mayor is targetting a cut in carbon emmissions and pollution. Perhaps the single most effective step in reducing energy use in the captial would be to get rid of traffic lights. This is in addition to the energy wasted by the actual use of the lights themselves!
February 12th 2007, a day that will live long in the memory of anyone who was at LSE last year. After severe storms overnight, some power things flooded. The point is that loads of buildings in Holborn had no power. This included the LSE which meant everyone had the day off. It also meant that there were no traffic lights working in the vicinity. Conventional wisdom would have it there would be “chaos” and loads of accidents and the like. Yet every one who remembers that day knows that the cars flowed beautifully. Cars gave way to pedestrians, taxis waved people on, with eye contact and a natural turn based system there was a drastic reduction in the amount of traffic.
Some argue that it has been put in place in London, “Kensington High Street is often cited as an example of shared space, it is in fact anything but. If you try and cycle along Kensington High Street, you can’t. They’ve narrowed the carraigeway because they’ve widened the pavements. and they’vve widened the centreal islands, it looks neater. But now buses and and cars and trucks take up all the space on the road and there’s no way to squeeze through. That’s one big problem. The other problem is that it’s still plagued by traffic lights. I know the people who did it, they are wonderful guys. They told me they did what they could within the restriction imposed by the traffic engineers in charge. The council manipulate everything, they wouldn’t allow true shared space to be put in. True shared space would see the road and pavement levelled.
The anger and irritation that drivers suffer through the illogical system we currently have can lead to dangerous situations. “I want to examine the role of traffic controls in road rage. In my view the unreported cause of road rage is vexation with traffic controls. What raises your stress levels is when you stop at a red light and you can see there’s nothing on the junction. That is such a kick in the teeth to an intelligent sentient human being. So then you’ve had to stop at a red light, when the light turns green that’s when the pedestrian turns up and you speed off and hit someone. It is statistcally much safer for cyclists not to wait at a red light. I say that cyclcists and all roadies should be free to use intelligent discretion and go when it’s safe. Emma Feller (51), Victoria Buchanan (28) and most recent ly Amelia Zollner (24). All killed on their bikes as they waited at red lights. I am certain that if traffic had been moving and filtering on the junction and there had been interaction and eye contact, that those human beings would be alive today. “
The reduction of traffic lights doesn’t neccessarily mean the instant elimination of all of them. “I do concede that at major junctions at peak times possibly you might need some controls. I’m not saying we don’t. Yet putting traffic lights at every little junction is so counterproductive. All road users should be free of the tyranny of mandatory lights and free to go on opportunity.”
There have been fantastic results in Sweden and Holland where this has been used. Accidents and congestion have dissappeared since shared space was introduced. On the accident side, At a major intersection in Drachten in Holland, previously with traffic lights they used to have five fatalities a year and now they don’t even have any collisions.
The argument is to powerful to be swept aside, too overwhelming to be ignored. We must reduce emmissions, fatalities and general frustation. There must, at the very least, be controlled scientific trials on the effectiveness of this system.

Martin Cassini is a producer and broadcaster and has started the Road User’s Freedom Movement.