The Staple: Very Good, Parka

As January dawns, the thoughts of people working in the fashions turn to the upcoming 2-3 months of shows, presentations, catwalks, parties and relentless travel. It's a tough job (no, srsly), and I'm sure there'll be all sorts of thrills and spills across social media and various ritzy locations as the next few months unfurl.

However, January signals two things for most people: 1) it gets very cold and 2) everyone is very poor. Sadly I can't offer any tips on fixing the latter, but for me, every year I return to this jacket for some reason. (aside: January is also my birthday)

I've been in London for, well, this is my 13th year here. So some time. And despite gaining and losing more items of clothing, friends, drinks, colleagues and books, this parka seems to have stuck with me. I bought it as a first year student, living in Max Rayne House on Camden Road (typing those words does indeed take me back). On my walk back from the bus from uni, there was a vintage shop, just by Camden Rd station - now long gone - where I spunked most of my student loan on American college Ts, scratchy cardigans and 1970s kipper ties. And this very parka was a January purchase there.

Why a parka? Well dear readers, I have a confession: I was a noughties indie kid. I went to indie discos across Camden, I loved Trash at the End, I partied at student unions, I was obsessed with the Libertines. It was a fun time. And I must've seen it in NME or read about it in the Face or something, but parkas were cool. I bet Graham Coxon had one. Anyway, I picked this up for about £35, and it was pretty knackered at the time. I wore it relentlessly (with self-ripped and patched bootcut jeans, Puma Roma and a vintage BA flight bag *don't judge, it was 2003*), patched it up, and never quite got around to chucking it out.

Partly because it's so damn warm; it's like wearing a duvet, and it's got those hand-warmy pockets on the chest that are uber-toasty. And partly because, well this is real life. Not sure if you've picked this up from the blog along the way, but I don't go around wearing custom-made Valentino couture, or incredibly rare Miyake samples from 1983. Well, not *that* often anyway. 

I've grown to love this parka, there's something refreshingly honest about it - I love the terrible fake fur on the hood, the bobbled hood, the faded orange lining...it's not trying to be ridiculous, and it does its job well. It's the kind of jacket you can pull on over a T to face a cold winter's night, stuff behind a speaker and party til dawn, and then retrieve and wrap yourself up in it, safe in the knowledge that it's done its job. And yes, I have tested that theory - though not enough recently.

Back to January's shows though, and will I wear it to LCM? Probably not. It's practical for cold tube platforms, and like my walking gear at my parents in the Lakes, knows its place. But then, who knows - this parka has been to stranger places before.

(with apologies for the terrible photo - amazingly there is not a photo in existence in the history of Facebook of me actually wearing this. Oh and also, hope some of you get the Thunderbirds ref in the title...)

***UPDATE*** Turns out I've written about this damn parka before. Ah well, enjoy the update and any inconsistencies in the story. The original post is here.

Disco 2009

Last Thursday was a gig I'd been looking forward to for ages; the label Italians Do It Better taking over Koko, with Lindstrom, Glass Candy and Desire. It's a label I've been listening to pretty much constantly for the last few months, and one of those songs that I DJd back in the Club Rees days which was almost always followed up with an enquiry from a curious punter. The genre Italodisco has its roots in the clubs of late 1970s and 1980s southern Europe; as its name suggests, it incorporates some of the disco motifs of synthesisers, but mixes them into a spacey, trippy and altogether more chilled-out mood. That's not to say it's not without some absolutely corking tunes however. It emerged as music entirely made electronically was in its infancy; and the clubbing scene as we know know was it just taking off. Its recent revival hasn't involved much of a change of sound, but since the interest in electro has risen through the indie scene, a similar indie mindset of ephemeral and unusual approaches has been sought. Mike Simonetti's record label Italians Do It Better has been one of the spearheads of this movement. Along with established Swedish DJ and Producer Lindstrom, his bands have brought this sounds back. Seeing them in the theatrical environment of Koko, whose sparse but bass-heavy sound system finally sounded it it element was an absolute dream. I'd been on the verge of ordering a massive package of CDs from his Viva Italians store, and had even arranged for a US address for them to be sent to thus avoiding $40 of international shipping, but once I realised he'd be playing here, I put that on hold and decided to hit the merch stand here. Luckily, the lovely Megan Louise from Desire was on the stand, and even signed my CD. I also picked up this tshirt. In all my years of festivals and gigs, I'd never yet felt compelled to buy a band tshirt, so for me this was a real exception. And the music of Desire, Glass Candy and Lindstrom was so on the button, that I stayed far too late on a school night, and didn't even mind Koko's extortionate beer prices as much as I would normally have. It was an unmissable Staple, and I'll definitely be on the lookout for more of the same. Other Staples this week:
A night of gorgeous Italodisco at Koko
Monochrome Gingham
Lunching by the river
'The Way We Wore: A Life in Threads' by Robert Elms
Desire's album, II
The Jerusalem Tavern in Farringdon
Bourbon biscuits

Music To My Ears

A wander around the shops last week didn't yield anything exciting clothing finds, so I absentmindedly wandered into HMV. It's been awhile since I bought some CDs; I've been downloading stuff and borrowed discs recently; but it reminded me of the importance of 'concrete' music purchases. While a CD might not take on the patina of age like a vinyl record, it's still a physical product with inlay notes, artwork and an actual disc. Now that we've all digitised our music collections, it's easy to forget humble compact disc. And while iPods are undoubtedly easier and more convenient than CDs when you're on the move, some of my most treasured possessions are records and CDs from my Dad. I am very passionate about my music; regular readers will know about my summers of many festivals, but I've also been lucky enough to attend loads of gigs, DJ regularly and invest serious time and money into music and a brilliant stereo. I also think it's pretty important to pay for your music; if you don't pay for it, it's not going to be there - artists need money to survive; you wouldn't steal a shirt from your favourite boutique (though you might borrow a shirt from a mate from time to time), so why should this be different with music? Plus, if you apply fashion's 'cost per wear' analysis to a CD, then they're bloody brilliant value for money too! Anyway, whoever's doing the buying for HMV's dance section is doing a fantastic job; the selection there is better than some indie stores, and pleasingly without the aching-trendiness of certain shops as well. Any of these albums would be a brilliant addition to any musical collection (especially the Blondie remixes disc from 1995 which I picked up in a junk shop for £2!); download if you must, but make the point of going to a record store at some point this week and having a browse; it's well worth the time! Other Staples this week:
A big pile of new CDs
Selfridges Pantone 109C mugs
Growing a beard (to hide the stitches)
Writing for Brandish
Old Jamaica Fiery Ginger Beer
A nautical bandanna around the neck
Voting

Minehead Music Mayhem

As summer begins, so does Festival Season. As for the past few years, my holidays are going to be mostly taken up with music-based events across the country; Bestival, Field Day, Secret Garden Party, and doubtless a few more here and there. Last weekend was my first residential one of the summer (Camden Crawl/Turning Point don't count as they're down the road from me); All Tomorrow's Parties. It's one of those festivals with a line-up of bands that 99% of the population wouldn't necessarily know (and I certainly didn't), but also peppered with better-known acts like CSS, Foals and Bon Iver. This particular ATP (there are several throughout the year) was curated by the Breeders, giving it a more mature and more guitar-based slant than I would perhaps have liked, but was still great fun. Having Butlins in Minehead, Somerset as a backdrop certainly helps; it's refreshing to do something other than get leathered once the sun comes up - I screamed like a little girl on the 'Black Hole' water slide - and also to be able to sleep in a proper bed once the day/night of partying is through. And while we saw some pretty fab bands that we wouldn't normally have encountered (Holy Fuck were amazing and seeing Tricky live is mesmerising), the party vibe was continuous throughout the weekend, especially as we had converted one of the rooms in our 'chalet' (more bedsit than alpine ski lodge, but it did have a warmth, shower and electricity) into a disco room, complete with makeshift fridge, laptop/speakers and 'sofa'. The crowd were mostly quite static, but I guess that's to be expected from such a muso-y festival, and we still had a good old dance to CSS and Foals when the tunes hit. Definitely one to go to if you get the chance; the vibe's more relaxed & mature on account of actually staying in a building, but being inside was a definite advantage given the weather, and there's still plenty of people up for a party; we all appreciated the honest, unpretentious fun of a Butlins. Festivals are definite summer Staples, and given the amusement we got out of this ATP, I think we could even be back for the Winter one. For now though, roll on the rest of the summer's fun...Other Staples this week:
ATP curated by the Breeders at Butlins, Minehead
Enterprise car hire's drop-off service (and in-car iPod connectivity)
DJing at a chalet with a laptop/iPod
M&S Chocolate mini-bites
Post-festival saviours: Waitrose smoked-salmon pâté/Kiehl's facemask
Having a brilliant boss for the last 2 years; Adam, you'll be sorely missed!
Delays' second album 'You See Colours' (more iPod-based rediscovery)

Blogged Down

I've been a bit blogged down of late; there's just so much good stuff going on across there (to the right ->) that I'm not getting time to write. Added to not having internet at home, and a rather hectic week last week, I've not posted any Staples yet. This week I've been chilling in preparation for a long weekend away to Berlin; full details on the return. God I need a holiday! I might even get a post or two in from there. In the meantime please enjoy this photo of me in my new All Saints clobber, from Saturday (brandishing my DJ book - a Touch of Frost branded notebook) and here are this week's Staples:
All Saints end-of-sale-sale (yes, I am still shopping!)
Finally being paid
Lena jazz bar on Great Eastern Street
Seeing Grace Jones (of course)
Looking forward to Berlin
Saturdays=Youth by M83
The new issue of 10+ Men

The Staple - Grace Jones Live

I couldn't leave for the day without recounting last night's epic gig at the Roundhouse. I bought the tickets the minute they came out after Ms. Jone's phenomenal surprise performance at Bestival. My love for her is well-documented, but seeing her last night without the festival 'haze' was an absolute highlight, and I'd go so far as to say it's in my top 3 Best Gigs of All Time. She is a complete Goddess; Who else could look that good at the age of 62? Who else would perform an entire song whilst hoola-hooping? Who else would change into a different, ever more outrageous costume (and custome-made Philip Treacy hat) between EACH song? Who else would put on a mirror-ball encrusted hat and have a laser shine down so that their head became like a star in the process of going supernova? Who else would have their own indoor ticker-tape parade for 'Pull Up to My Bumper'? No-one. In the surprisingly intimate Camden venue, Grace rocked the house, had everyone dancing from the first bars of 'Nightclubbing' to the last beats of 'Hurricane'. She's there for the next two nights, so if you can, go. Absolute joy, and a Staple par excellence.

Amazing Grace

As I've mentioned previously, my summer has been liberally garnished with festivals. Actually, strike that, my summer has been nothing but festivals. Eight in total, finally finishing last weekend with Bestival (aka the Mud vs. Glitter) and one of the most brilliant performances I've seen all summer: GRACE JONES. I believe I've mentioned before how brilliant I think she is, her songs mean a lot to me and she's one of the 5 or so artists whose music never leaves my constantly rotating 2GB iPod (NOTE: Must get a bigger one soon). I love her. So when we slid up to the main stage at Bestival at the same time as a 'Secret Act' I was mildly amused. The opening bars of 'Nightclubbing' came on and I thought it was a backing track, then on she strode in an utterly ridiculous cape and leotard. I went utterly bonkers - missing her at Secret Garden and Festival Hall gutted me - and it made all the mud, rain and welly rash worth it. It's not that often I TOTALLY lose it to music, but for Grace, I do. Singing every word, humming every refrain and hands firmly in the air, I was blissing out. Then she proceeded to play all the songs I love, have an increasingly more ridiculous costume change EVERY song and make me bawl with joy. Absolute highlight of the year. When you're at festivals, especially with adverse weather conditions, you need an act like this who life your spirits, and make it all worthwhile. Bestival was pretty bliss in itself, mud excepted, and with all the sea creatures bouncing around to Grace, this was the icing on my festival season. Other Staples that will make your festival:
Grace Jones
Black wellington boots
M&S Mini Flapjacks
A fleece blanket
Gold sequinned shrugs
A selection of waterproofs
A thick cashmere rollneck for ultimate comfort

Vive les Festivals

So here's what I've been up to in July. Basically, the festivals have taken over my life. I was planning on keeping this summer a little more low-key; last year I made it to eight festivals in all. This may seem entirely bonkers, and I suppose to some extent it is. But when your passions are live music, partying and dressing up in improbable combinations of clothes, there is no better place to combine all three. As July unfolded, I took the first Eurostar of the day to Brussels, where bemused business travellers sat amid huge rucksacks, cagoules and tents, the zzcchhvvip of fastenings sitting uncomfortably next to their pink shirt-and-tie combos. Rock Werchter is Belgium's answer to Glastonbury, and it showcased many of the same bands, but for much cheaper, and with the added bonus of a 24-can crate of beer costing just €13. Crowdsurfing to Justice, being awed by Radiohead for the second time in a week and rocking it up to everything from Kings of Leon and Beck to Duffy and Digitalism; the whole weekend melted into a blur of music, beer and good times, the photos marked only by the differing outfits. A favourite was using an old orange mountaineering cagoule over a tshirt and shorts, cuffing the sleeves and belting it in at the waist with a gold braided belt and accessorising with the gold visor and some purple canvas shoes. Sounds ridiculous, and it wasn't until I got back and spent the first half of the week marvelling at Facebook that I realised it was. The following week was party central, no time for recovery - Simian Mobile Disco, Jamie Lidell and Rockfeedback at the Cross Kings flashed past, all bleeps, sax and dancing on tables. Just a few short days of work (and some very civilised jazz in Stoke Newington) intervened into this party schedule as Latitude loomed into view. Another chance to see the majestic Sigur Ros, and experience the fabulous Joanna Newsom, as well as catch Interpol, Blondie, Midnight Juggernauts, Shortwave Set and Lykke Li. Unlike RW, Latitude was a tad more civilised, but that didnt stop the backstage forays, beer-filled breakfasts and ridiculous dressing; a highlight here was an outfit of 1980s CITV presenter pullover with burgundy jeans, blue shoes and a multi-coloured silk cummerbund patterned with New York theatre tickets; it looked as though a rainbow had been sick on me. Post-Latitude, a couple more gigs followed and a triumphant night of DJing at Club Rees @ the Fly rounded off the week. All that remained of the month of festivals was a quick day trip to Secret Garden Party (guttingly missing the inimitable spectacle of Grace Jones), and then a Leicester Square premiere (natch); here I managed to pull off gingham shorts on the red carpet, pairing them with grey bstore round-toe lace-ups, a black polo shirt, silvery scarf, belt and sunglasses. This sort of month barely leaves time for work, and I think, one month (or perhaps two if you feel like pushing it) of the year should be reserved for this sort of partying. With a veritable glut of festivals across the globe all summer, from April right through to September, it's important to be able to let go, follow the music and just go and have a damn good weekend (or 4) with your mates. Festivals are a Staple, but more important is your approach; push where you need to, rest where you need to - there is no place more suitable constructed for a week of hedonism. Bring on Field Day! Amongst this festival of a month, other Staples comprised:
Festivals (Rock Werchter, Latitude, Secret Garden Party)
Estelle's infectious single, 'American Boy'
Patterned cummerbunds
Warm cans of lager
The feel of grass constantly underfoot
The magic of Facebook's photo-tagging
Home-made lanyards and line-ups

Stapled

It's been over a month since the last Staple, so I guess I should at least give an excuse for the lack of posting. Unfortunately (well, not really) a hectic schedule of partying and festivalling took over my Monday evenings, and the delicious habit of Channel 4, a good meal and a blog that I had worked so hard to develop disappeared. Quite a few times this month, this lack of blogging has hit me, and I've actually had a great number of things that I've been meaning to Staple. Starting from now, I'm going to try and blog at least twice a week - potentially without including the "enduring leitmotif" (as termed by a great friend of mine) of a oven photo - in an effort to rectify this oversight. As a bonus, along with my fantastic DJing partners The Brothers Rees, there is a new blog for all your DJing needs, essential songs and general banter. OK, back to business with another Staple...

The streets are alive with the Sound of Music too...

I listen to music practically non-stop. I don't like it when there's no music in the background. From the moment I get up, either the TV or the stereo is on; the only way I can deal with the tube (at any hour) is to clamp my headphones over my ears and retreat into some appropriate tunes; at work, I always have some music playing and when I am napping I need some appropriately chilled music in the background. Every so often, I stumble across an album which shapes the next six months or so, and will not be leaving my iPod. Previous examples (in chronological order) include: Sound of Silver (LCD), Transparent Things (Fujiya & Miyagi), Writer's Block (Peter Bjorn and John) and a Bugz in the Attic LifeStyles compilation of '80s funk. Just before Xmas, I read about the incognito DJ and producer Burial, whose new album had been rated amongst the best of 2007. Normally, end-of-year lists are a little overone, but this was on DrownedinSound.com, the forum of uberMusos and sonic aesthetes of the highest (and often elitest and most pretentious) order. Duly, I investigated, after having many pleasant aural discoveriesas a result of positive reviews. And the fantastic sounds within - muffled garage beats over orchestral arrangements; choral crescendoes clashing with electronic shufflings - have provided a soundtrack to the last few months of dark winter. The sonic landscape (yes, it sounds grand, but it's not until you listen to this album that you can really grasp just how visual and grand a noise it makes) on display in 'Untrue' genuinely envelops you, swirls around you, sucks you down into a thickly smoky and richly delicious place; perfect for when you're swaddled in your scarf in the rain on your way home from a club at 3am. It's the kind of album that I have played, then heard in several different places, the kind that slowly seeps into your unconscious and before you realise it, the album has become a Staple. This is what makes a great album; personal conenctions with truly fantastic music. Other Staples this week:
Burial's album 'Untrue'
A slim silver leather belt
The Queen Mary pub on the Thames
American Apparel pants
Having a working boiler
Hoegaarden with Lime
Argos' self-service machines & "the laminated catalogue of dreams"

EXTRA! EXTRA!

I've been lucky enough in my time in London to be invited to/gatecrash/turn up at some pretty fantastic events; Leicester Square film premieres, club openings, underground raves, the opera and even the odd press launch. Whilst always fun - and always with my mates - these events can sometimes be a little style over substance, where the prescience of the event and the crossing of the velvet rope is more exciting than the event itself. Last week's trip to the Astoria, however, was one of the best ones. As a regular gig-goer, I am used to the Asto's fair-to-middling sound quality, jostling for a good view only to have the tallest man in the venue to stand in front of you and never being able to regain this meagre place should you need the bar or toilet. While seeing Justice a few weeks ago was electric as a result of the atmosphere, when seeing Lightspeed Champion and the Young Knives I was treated, courtesy of my lovely friend Rhea, to life behind the velvet rope, on the VIP balcony. And I must say, it is the best spot in the whole place. Plenty of space to stand on the balcony which is practically directly in front of the stage. Returning from the bar was a pleasure rather than a chore, and with the music coming directly at you, sound quality becomes less of an issue. So what was already going to be an enjoyable gig was transformed into a brilliant evening, merely by a switching of place. Of course, the company of Rhea, Tom (and at the aftershow party, the Knives' lead singer, Henry Dartnell) was key to this experience, but it also proves that location is key in more than just housebuying. Scoring VIP tickets is always going to be rare, but this is one of those brilliant London experiences where there are only good memories to be had. Seeing a gig properly; a true Staple.

EXTRA! EXTRA!

Seeing a good gig, as I have mentioned previously, is an absolute Staple. But seeing a dance outfit in a gig situation can be hit and miss. I was lucky enough to see Simian Mobile Disco a couple of months back, but their lacklustre, short set, coupled with an almost complete lack of stage excitement - two guys strolling around a big circular synth pressing buttons does not a show make - left me wanting. I have also been lucky enough to see, and more importantly hear, some great DJs in clubs, but at a gig, they have to put on a show and entertain with their live performance rather than just stick the album on and bounce up and down. When I saw Four Tet, the visuals were both clever and absorbing, but Kieran Hebden himself was just bopping in front of his laptop. We had no idea if he was checking emails, or actually playing a set. My faith in brilliant DJ shows was restored however, at Thursday's Justice show at the Astoria. They were positioned amidst a Spinal Tap-style wall of enormous Marshall amps, above a Battlestar Galactica digital bank of bleepy lights. In the middle, the trademark Justice illuminated cross, which is the focus and usually the sole discernible subject of any photos taken of Justice gigs. More importantly, they played genuinely Live tracks, remixed and rearranged in a completely new way. For a band with a such well-known repertoire, some of which are now a good few years old, they sounded fresh and took their eye-bleeding techno to a new level, throwing in familiar lyrics and noises amidst a wall of euphoric, ripped sound. This combo juiced the audience so much so that every last person was not just tapping their feet, but full-on dancing, right up to the rafters. I left feeling uplifted and played the album on the bus home - a sure sign of hearing something fab. Complete genius. A veritable Staple - seeing music you love played in a fresh way that makes you fall in love with it all over again. Et Justice pour tous...

Music is my Kingsize Bed

After all the festivalling this summer, I'd almost forgotten what a gig feels like without sunglasses, shorts and visor, without grass underfoot and blue sky overhead, without warm paper cup of lager in hand and without lanyard around neck. A real, dark, inside gig at a converted theatre where the (real and not canvas) walls are painted matt black and the cries echo around wood-panelling and gilt lightshades. So I was exceptionally pleased last weekend when I met some friends with a spare ticket for The Cribs at Kentish Town Forum. One of my favourite bands, Wakefield's dis-establishment Strokes have enough energy to power your home until fossil fuels expire. The excitment of pre-gig pints, discussing the merits of one album over another, queueing to get in, bag checks and dimmed lights until the vapid NME-muzak cedes to the unmistakable statement; "We're the Cribs from Wakefield" with that elongated northern aaaaaa. And then bouncing, clapping, shouting lyrics, craning of heads to get a better view and taking blurry photos during your favourite songs, as if taking a photo can capture not just the image, but the music and the atmosphere as well. The crescendo of fulfilment that rushes through your body, filling it to the brim; the grins on yours and other people's faces; crowd-surfers throwing themselves into the mêlée of sweating adolscents. I used to do that. The final song, the cheers, shouts and undying applause until the roadies appear and remove the strewn guitars. The cool air outside and the streams of people to the tube. Fabulous. And it's LCD Soundsystem tomorrow. Just that thought is almost enough. Almost. And so to the rest of this week's Staples, which are all along a theme of sensory pleasure:
Having a gig lined up for next week
Wandering aimlessly around the V&A museum in South Ken
Avoiding the rugby with your best mates at The Cock on Gt. Portland St.
Picking up a newly-reheeled pair of shoes from the cobbler
Giving a guided tour of a department store
Breakfasting decadently at the weekend
Crisp evenings by the Thames