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Issue 111 / November 2022

November 2020 issue of Bido Lito! magazine. Featuring: COURTING, TABITHA JADE, RED RUM CLUB, THE REAL THING, MIC LOWRY, ANTHONY WILDE, STONE, BEN BURKE, FOX FISHER, SHE DREW THE GUN, THE SINGH TWINS, DON MCCULLIN and much more.

November 2020 issue of Bido Lito! magazine. Featuring: COURTING, TABITHA JADE, RED RUM CLUB, THE REAL THING, MIC LOWRY, ANTHONY WILDE, STONE, BEN BURKE, FOX FISHER, SHE DREW THE GUN, THE SINGH TWINS, DON MCCULLIN and much more.

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ISSUE <strong>111</strong> / NOVEMBER 2020<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

COURTING / TABITHA JADE<br />

RED RUM CLUB / MIC LOWRY


FACT TOGETHER<br />

10 DIGITAL<br />

ARTWORKS CREATED<br />

IN LOCKDOWN BY<br />

EMERGING ARTISTS<br />

FROM THE NORTH<br />

NIL00<br />

JESSICA EL MAL<br />

MILDA BAGINSKAITĖ<br />

ELLE BULGER<br />

SHONAGH SHORT<br />

TAMMY REYNOLDS<br />

GREGORY HERBERT<br />

MICHAELBRAILEY<br />

UMA BREAKDOWN<br />

DAY MATTAR<br />

EXPERIENCE ONLINE<br />

fact.co.uk/together<br />

Funded by Supported by Commissioned by FACT Liverpool<br />

for FACT Together, a new online<br />

residency and artist development<br />

opportunity set up in response<br />

to Covid-19.


NEVER<br />

ISSUE 93 / OCTOBER 2018<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

SPQR / NIKI KAND / VILLAGERS<br />

SHE DREW THE GUN / PUSSY RIOT<br />

ISSUE 94 / NOVEMBER 2018<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

BILL RYDER-JONES / EAT ME + PREACH<br />

JAMIE BROAD / HINDS / BIENNIAL<br />

ISSUE 95 / DEC 2018/JAN 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

CHELCEE GRIMES / REMY JUDE ENSEMBLE<br />

MOLLY BURCH / BRAD STANK / THE CORAL<br />

MISS<br />

ISSUE 96 / FEBRUARY 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

EYESORE & THE JINX / LADYTRON<br />

LEE SCOTT / YVES TUMOR / ERIC TUCKER<br />

ISSUE 97 / MARCH 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

YANK SCALLY / BBC 6 MUSIC FESTIVAL<br />

MUNKEY JUNKEY / SLEAFORD MODS<br />

ISSUE 98 / APRIL 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

XAMVOLO / YAMMERER<br />

MC NELSON / THE ZUTONS<br />

ISSUE 99 / MAY 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

SUB BLUE / CLINIC / CATE LE BON<br />

SOUND CITY 2019<br />

ISSUE 101 / JULY 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

BILL NICKSON / KITTY’S LAUNDERETTE<br />

SPINN / ROLLING BLACKOUTS C.F.<br />

ISSUE 102 / AUGUST 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

THAT’S JUVEY? / STEALING SHEEP<br />

ROY / CHINATOWN SLALOM<br />

ISSUE 103 / SEPTEMBER 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

SISBIS / WAVERTREE WORLDWIDE<br />

SPILT / LOUDER THAN DEATH<br />

AN<br />

ISSUE 104 / OCTOBER 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

STRAWBERRY GUY / RICHARD HERRING<br />

MARVIN POWELL / EDWYN COLLINS<br />

ISSUE 105 / NOVEMBER 2019<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

THE MYSTERINES / RICHARD DAWSON<br />

NUTRIBE / TRUDY AND THE ROMANCE<br />

ISSUE 106 / DEC 2019/JAN 2020<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

BEIJA FLO / LO FIVE<br />

ASOK / SIMON HUGHES<br />

ISSUE 107 / FEBRUARY 2020<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

PIZZAGIRL BEIJA FLO / DAN / LO DISGRACE FIVE<br />

SAVE KITCHEN ASOK / STREET SIMON HUGHES / AIMÉE STEVEN<br />

ISSUE<br />

ISSUE 108 / MARCH 2020<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

THE ORIELLES/ BEIJA FLO LOATHE / FIVE/ LUNA<br />

THRESHOLD ASOK / FESTIVAL SIMON HUGHES / COURTING<br />

ISSUE 109 / SEPTEMBER 2020<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

TEE BEIJA / ALL FLO WE / ARE LO FIVE / DECAY<br />

JAMIE ASOK WEBSTER/ / SIMON MOLLY HUGHES GREEN<br />

ISSUE 110 / OCTOBER 2020<br />

NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE<br />

LIVERPOOL<br />

AMINA ATIQ / BYE LOUIS<br />

JACQUES MALCHANCE / DON MCCULLIN<br />

bidolito.co.uk/membership


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New Music + Creative Culture<br />

Liverpool<br />

<strong>Issue</strong> <strong>111</strong> / <strong>November</strong> 2020<br />

bidolito.co.uk<br />

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Sam Turner - sam@bidolito.co.uk<br />

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Cover Photography<br />

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Words<br />

Elliot Ryder, Olivia Yoxall, Sam Turner, Mary Olive, Lily<br />

Blakeney-Edwards, Adam Noor, Emma Varley, Alice<br />

Langan, Orla Foster, Will Whitby, Sophie Shields,<br />

Richard Lewis, Anthony Wilde, Matthew Berks, Cath<br />

Holland, Leah Binns, Jennie Macaulay, Stuart Miles<br />

O’Hara, Dan Cullinan.<br />

Photography, Illustration and Layout<br />

Mark McKellier, Marieke Macklon, Esmée Finlay, Michael<br />

Kirkham, Nicholas Daly, Callum Mills, Anthony Wilde,<br />

Mark Lycett, Broadie, John Johnson, Robin Clewley,<br />

Hannah Blackman-Kurz.<br />

EDITORIAL<br />

When society opened back up in early July, the<br />

door to freedom was only ever left ajar. It was<br />

much closer to swinging back shut than it was<br />

ever wide open.<br />

Not all of us were able to squeeze through the gap and<br />

sample a taste of the before times. For those who it was safe<br />

enough to do so, the life that greeted us on the other side was<br />

familiar. However, there were glaring omissions that added to<br />

its temporary feel. No live music, sport spectators, theatre. A<br />

weariness of being around older family<br />

members and members of the public<br />

persisted. For all the thrill of being back<br />

out, seeing people, places being open,<br />

there was always a niggling doubt in the<br />

back of the mind.<br />

In March, it took a matter of weeks<br />

to transition from blasé, ‹keep calm<br />

and carry on’ to being one of the worst<br />

affected nations of a raging global<br />

pandemic. By July, it certainly didn’t feel<br />

like the fires were fully stamped out as<br />

we opened up. It only takes an ember to<br />

ignite the fire. Two months into our new<br />

future of mask wearing, signing in and<br />

sanitising, the door was already creaking shut.<br />

Moving into tier three of new lockdown restrictions was met<br />

with a mixture of preparedness and fear. I’d done the three-and-ahalf-month<br />

stretch of lockdown already. Reluctantly, I told myself,<br />

you know what to expect. But there was a greater fear than the<br />

first time. In March, the blanket closure nationwide came with a<br />

partial safety net. It would keep the majority ticking over. Plans<br />

were then shifted until Autumn. Budgets reshuffled. We waited.<br />

The autumn months were where we’d turn a new leaf in a<br />

year deprived of so much. That new leaf didn’t have time to turn.<br />

Too quickly it was subjected to winter. It withered. Subjected to<br />

FEATURES<br />

“Time to put on<br />

our masks and be<br />

heroes of our own”<br />

increased social distance, the safety net all but gone. Budgets<br />

decimated. All plans cancelled. So much of what so many have<br />

worked for hangs in the balance.<br />

It was fitting that, as Liverpool City Region ventured alone<br />

into lockdown, a caped crusader would appear. Liverpool was in<br />

need of a hero. Someone to look to, to turn the tide, to make the<br />

people believe in good triumphing over evil. The stunt double of<br />

Bruce Wayne straddling the Liver Birds wasn’t who we needed.<br />

But it at least set off this train of thought. The first wave was<br />

defined by its heroes. We rightly stood up<br />

and took notice of Liverpool’s essential<br />

workers. They’re just as important now.<br />

And yes, they include our musicians,<br />

artists, community facilitators. We now<br />

have a greater understanding of what is<br />

an essential worker and the plaudits they<br />

deserve. Being out on our own is less<br />

lonesome in a city full of heroes. Those<br />

who don’t glow under the Hollywood<br />

spotlight, but are no less deserving.<br />

History will note how we’ve been<br />

here before. The stagnation of the 1980s,<br />

the decline of Liverpool as a port. Once<br />

again, we’re out on our own. Those<br />

triumphs in the past, the city reinventing itself in the face of<br />

decimation, didn’t happen overnight. It took the city taking<br />

ownership of the situation and doing it its own way. We will<br />

need more help. Our politicians/representatives and community<br />

leaders will fight for this so livelihoods aren’t destroyed. We’ll<br />

be together, as close as we can be, but there’s no doubting the<br />

winter will be hard. Time to put on our masks and be heroes of<br />

our own. !<br />

Elliot Ryder / @elliot_ryder<br />

Editor<br />

Gotham? (Liam Jones / @liamjonesphotie)<br />

Distribution<br />

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sam@bidolito.co.uk.<br />

Bido Lito! is a living wage employer. All our staff are<br />

paid at least the living wage.<br />

All contributions to Bido Lito! come from our city’s<br />

amazing creative community. If you would like to join<br />

the fold visit bidolito.co.uk/contribute.<br />

We are contributing one per cent of our advertising<br />

revenue to WeForest.org to fund afforestation<br />

projects around the world. This more than offsets our<br />

carbon footprint and ensures there is less CO2 in the<br />

atmosphere as a result of our existence.<br />

11 / COURTING<br />

Nobody knows what’s going on, but Courting are here to help you<br />

make sense of the madness.<br />

16 / PLAYING IN<br />

In our third report with University Of Liverpool, we look at<br />

responses relating to releasing music and self-promotion during<br />

the months of lockdown.<br />

18 / TABITHA JADE<br />

Orla Foster finds the singer-songwriter doing things her own<br />

way as she looks to leave her mark on contemporary RnB and<br />

Afrobeat.<br />

20 / RED RUM CLUB<br />

Following the release of their second album, Sophie Shields braces<br />

the heights of the Sefton Sierra with its hometown heroes.<br />

REGULARS<br />

22 / PAST PRESENT FUTURE<br />

The Real Thing and MiC LOWRY sit down to discuss their<br />

experiences of black representation in Liverpool music.<br />

.<br />

26 / CHAMPION ONE, CHAMPION<br />

ALL<br />

Ahead of a new exhibition opening in <strong>November</strong>, Anthony Wilde<br />

sheds light on his ability to capture moments of change and<br />

transition.<br />

30 / FOX FISHER<br />

Homotopia’s artists in residence for 2020 provides an insight to<br />

their personal and artistic journey, along with what to expect at<br />

this year’s festival.<br />

The views expressed in Bido Lito! are those of the<br />

respective contributors and do not necessarily<br />

reflect the opinions of the magazine, its staff or the<br />

publishers. All rights reserved.<br />

8 / NEWS<br />

10 / HOT PINK!<br />

26 / SPOTLIGHT<br />

30 / PREVIEWS<br />

32 / REVIEWS<br />

38 / ARTISTIC LICENCE<br />

39 / FINAL SAY


NEWS<br />

Journal To The Centre<br />

Of The Universe<br />

Bido Lito! Journal<br />

Why is music important to you? Many people’s answer<br />

to this question will have changed over the course of this<br />

tumultuous year. Music has been one of few constants<br />

providing succour and companionship through isolation<br />

and uncertainty. The continued absence of live music<br />

has fostered a resurgence of fondness, as longing for the<br />

communal experience grows by the month. The question<br />

is the central tenet to the 2020 Bido Lito! Journal.<br />

While there’s been much to forget about 2020, we’ve<br />

collected what’s worth remembering and interrogated<br />

this central theme with the people we’ve met along the<br />

way. Pre-order the premium coffee table magazine now<br />

on our website or get it free when you sign up to a Bido<br />

Lito! Membership and support all we do. bidolito.co.uk/<br />

journal-2020<br />

Cineaste Of Eden<br />

The Liverpool Lighthouse is giving new life to its<br />

cinema space with hope of a screen being installed<br />

for March 2021. The Lighthouse opened its doors<br />

back in 1988 as the UK’s first urban gospel arts<br />

centre to up-skill disadvantaged groups within the<br />

community and contribute to North Liverpool’s<br />

regeneration. Ever since, the community hub has<br />

looked to decrease isolation and create community<br />

cohesion, while helping to develop people’s skills<br />

and engage locals with the arts. Exciting plans<br />

to refurbish the cinema space will carry winks of<br />

acknowledgment to the original architecture as the<br />

organisation calls out for donations to realise their<br />

vision. liverpoollighthouse.com<br />

Liverpool Lighthouse<br />

It’s All Academic<br />

A whole new batch of exciting young artists have<br />

been announced as the latest cohort for LIMF<br />

Academy. The 10 emerging musicians will now<br />

benefit from a suite of development activity to<br />

help them on to the next phase of their careers. In<br />

the Most Ready category this year are MICHAEL<br />

ALDAG, ANTONIA and MICAYL. The trio will<br />

receive cash to help them with their project and<br />

various opportunities throughout the programme<br />

as well as studio time and mentoring. A further<br />

seven artists, including AMBER JAY, JAZMINE<br />

JOHNSON and TY LEWIS, have also been chosen<br />

by a panel of experts to go on to develop their<br />

craft via workshops and exclusive opportunities.<br />

limfacademy.com<br />

Micayl<br />

Rethink, Reskill, Boot Off<br />

A utopian festival for dystopian times is set to<br />

launch across Liverpool in April 2021. Rocking<br />

across three venues, including Invisible Wind<br />

Factory as its main stage, FUTURAMA intends<br />

to create a futuristic paradise for festival goers.<br />

Born from the rebellious punks of the 70s as<br />

a retaliation to government oppression, the<br />

festival has not lost any of its punch. At a time<br />

where artists are encouraged to “rethink, reskill,<br />

reboot” the Futurama organisers tell us that it<br />

is not good enough. A celebration of the power<br />

of music and art, refusing to accept boundaries<br />

and turning the volume up even louder, the<br />

bill features PETER HOOK & THE LIGHT,<br />

THEATRE OF HATE as well as THE LOVELY<br />

EGGS, THE BLINDERS and JUST MUSTARD.<br />

futuramafestival.com<br />

The Lovely Eggs<br />

8


More Time For Linda<br />

The Walker Art Gallery have announced<br />

their popular Linda McCartney<br />

Retrospective will have its run extended to<br />

10 January 2021 due to popular demand. It<br />

means even more photography enthusiasts,<br />

Beatle completists, 60s rock fans and<br />

general interested parties can see the<br />

huge collection and follow in the footsteps<br />

of the thousands who have attended the<br />

exhibition since it opened in August. The<br />

show is joined by a new thought-provoking<br />

collection of photographs by members<br />

of Crisis Photography Group who have<br />

responded to the theme of ‘home’ and the<br />

work of McCartney. liverpoolmuseums.org<br />

Linda McCartney retrospective<br />

Dorothy<br />

Sneaker Pimps<br />

Baltic-based graphic design studio<br />

DOROTHY have unveiled their newest<br />

creation. The Sneakerheads Cutaway<br />

print pays homage to the iconic Nike Air<br />

Max shoe and reveals a melange of key<br />

moments in sneaker history. The print<br />

celebrates the sneaker which took its<br />

inspiration from the architecture of the<br />

Pompidou Centre and has carved an<br />

indelible mark on popular culture since<br />

its arrival in 1987. Featured in the design<br />

are Jesse Owens’ 1936 Olympics triumph<br />

wearing Dasslers, Bruce Lee sporting<br />

Onitsuka Tigers in Game Of Death and<br />

Pelé’s Puma King-assisted third World Cup<br />

win. The three-colour litho print is available<br />

online now. wearedorothy.com<br />

Apply Yourself<br />

Sound City have followed up their<br />

line-up and new date announcement<br />

for 2021 with details of their Apply<br />

To Play initiative. The programme will<br />

provide local and undiscovered artists<br />

the opportunity to play alongside REJJIE<br />

SNOW, WORKING MEN’S CLUB and<br />

THE MYSTERINES on the the weekend<br />

of 30th April 2021 at the postponed<br />

festival. Part of Sound City’s wider drive<br />

to develop emerging talent, Apply To<br />

Play is open for live acts and DJs to<br />

apply now with 60 slots up for grabs.<br />

The festival takes place over three days<br />

in spaces across the Baltic Triangle for<br />

what will be a long-awaited return next<br />

year. soundcity.uk.com<br />

Here For Culture<br />

Liverpool’s culture community was given a muchneeded<br />

shot in the arm in October as Arts Council<br />

England unveiled the organisations which would<br />

benefit from a share of the Government’s promised<br />

£1.57bn Cultural Recovery Fund. Bluecoat, FACT,<br />

Liverpool Philharmonic, 24 Kitchen Street and Bido<br />

Lito! were among the many institutions who were<br />

successful in securing funding. The money has been<br />

distributed to plug the huge shortfalls in revenue<br />

as a result of the ongoing Covid-19 restrictions<br />

and should help towards organisations achieving<br />

sustainable viability by March next year. Bido Lito!<br />

will be using the funds to continue our Bylines<br />

Writers Workshops programme into 2021, top up<br />

fallen advertising revenues and continue printing<br />

this monthly magazine.<br />

Culture Recovery Fund<br />

Support Your Local<br />

Pizza Dealer<br />

Slice enthusiasts and Bido Lito! staffers<br />

have cause for positivity as Parr Street<br />

pizza purveyors Nightcrawler are<br />

remaining open in their home of The<br />

Merchant. Continuing to open from<br />

midday seven days a week to 10pm,<br />

delivering tasty slices, pitch perfect<br />

playlists and beauty bevs, there’s plenty<br />

of opportunity to get your pizza fix.<br />

What’s more, there’s awesome deals<br />

giving you half price slices, buy one get<br />

one for £1 initiatives, and plenty other<br />

reasons to pay your local pizza dealer a<br />

visit. themerchantliverpool.co.uk<br />

NEWS 9


HOT PINK!<br />

This month, additions to our hot pink! playlist include a regressive hair transgression, a haunting folk tale,<br />

a shiny pop barnstormer and much more to delve into. We are constantly adding to our mix of the best new<br />

sounds on Merseyside and here is but a smattering of the bright new voices that are wailing from the very<br />

top of tier three.<br />

Lucy Gaffney<br />

Send Me Away<br />

Frictionless Music<br />

Ecstatic, electric and enchanting, Gaffney’s latest single is laced with a catchy hook and celestial<br />

sounding loops. Written to perfectly capture the beauty of a broken heart, this track is defiant in its<br />

sorrow. The track commands to be listened to with a crescendo echoing The Verve, ignited with a<br />

euphoria of drums, electric guitar and Gaffney’s haunting yet punchy soprano. (MO)<br />

SKIA<br />

Pocket<br />

Heist Or Hit<br />

A bright candy-pop banger where only good vibes are allowed in. If you’re missing having a boogie<br />

– let’s be honest, who isn’t by now – turn this up to full and dance around your bedroom. Built<br />

on SKIA’s catchy vocal and a funky guitar riff, this track echoes HAIM or Maggie Rogers, with an<br />

irresistible, happy-go-lucky spring to it. It’s sure to have you humming along by the time the three<br />

minutes are over. (MO)<br />

Motel Sundown<br />

Before Midnight<br />

This ode to Liverpool from three adopted Scousers is a hazy rock ’n’ roller with sliding, sleepy<br />

vocals and a vibrant groove. Layered in sweet and simple melodies, wistfully swaying through the<br />

dustbowl, the track brings to mind whiling away care-free evenings in lazy boozers. Remember<br />

those? Take me back, please! (MO)<br />

Eyesore & The Jinx<br />

Accidental Weller<br />

Eggy Records<br />

Bad hair day? Don’t sweat it, Eyesore & The Jinx are probably having a worse one – tragic enough to<br />

inspire their recent snarling soundbite about a peacock feather ‘do, in fact. Imagine the lovechild of<br />

King Nun and The Chats: inject a miniscule amount of sedative and force-feed it some unmistakably<br />

Northern effrontery until it near explodes, and you’ve got the band’s latest punk rock earworm. (AL)<br />

Aimeé Steven<br />

Today<br />

Jacaranda Records<br />

Atmospheric and otherworldly, Aimée Steven’s latest single is an indie pop daydream. Drenched<br />

in hazy guitar reverb and atmospheric string samples, Steven mixes 80s-inspired production with<br />

lyrics that capture the uncertainty of life in 2020 to create a track that feels timeless and fresh. Like<br />

the songwriter herself, it’s a classic in the making. (LBE)<br />

KingFast<br />

Under My Skin<br />

KingFast has always been able to capture an audience with his raw vocals, but it’s on his latest<br />

single that we see him at his most candid. Simplistic yet mesmerising muted piano chords accompany<br />

the artist as he opens up about his heartbreak, with lyrics that feel closer to a conversation between<br />

artist and listener than any typical songwriting. The result is a soulful, soul-searching diary entry<br />

that is unapologetic in its honesty. (LBE)<br />

Loris And The Lion<br />

Waxwing<br />

Loris And The Lion convey a haunting aura that’s right at home in the late weeks of Autumn. Their<br />

latest single proves no different. Inspired by both traditional folk and the deft storytelling of Kate Bush<br />

and Joni Mitchell, the track weaves a narrative as it develops, with complex melodies and enchanting<br />

vocals from lead singer Georgia Harris, immersing whoever listens in an enveloping, chilling sound. (LBE)<br />

iamkyami ft. Sonny Miles<br />

Slow Down<br />

Iamkyami’s easygoing groove makes mountains through its minimalism. The track’s stripped-back,<br />

lo-fi inspired instrumentals let the artist excel, with her smooth vocals and dynamic melodies taking<br />

centre stage. The Sonny Miles feature is equally compelling, as the two artists complement each<br />

other with ease, all making for a lilting track that is captivatingly chill. (LBE)<br />

Sub Blue ft. Khai<br />

3AM<br />

Soft, intimate soundscapes with late-night reflections and the kind of tragic romance that’s just<br />

nuanced enough to still be cool; Sub Blue proves himself a neo-soul searcher offering confident<br />

vulnerability, expert production and bags of talent. The addition of Khai’s stunning vocal feature on<br />

this track takes Sub Blue’s work to a different level. It’s what we can only dream Frank Ocean and<br />

SZA’s lovechild would sound like. (AN)<br />

Sunstack Jones<br />

Golden Repair<br />

Mai 68 Records<br />

Lovers of Grateful Dead, Crosby, Stills and Nash, and all 1970s American psych/dream/whateverprefix-your-heart-desires<br />

rock need to listen to this. Herein you’ll find the honeyed harmonies of Fleet<br />

Foxes poured over long, rolling guitar tracks reminiscent of Zeppelin. Opening track Where You Gonna<br />

Go comes in at seven minutes, which is perfect considering how much free time we all have now. (EV)<br />

Words: Mary Olive, Alice Langan, Lily Blakeney-Edwards, Adam Noor and Emma Varley<br />

Follow hot pink! on Spotify: bit.ly/bidohotpink<br />

Photography from left to right: Loris And The Lion, Lucy Gaffney (Thom Southern), iamkyami,<br />

KingFast (Polyphonica).<br />

10


A LAUGH WITH<br />

SOME CONCERN<br />

Not caring is caring. Courting are here to help you make sense of the madness.<br />

FEATURE<br />

11


COURTING<br />

Everton Park is unusually busy for a Monday morning in<br />

September. Perhaps it’s the azure sky and foreboding<br />

temperatures leaning in from the afternoon, the kind of<br />

unexpectant heat that makes today’s autumnal attire<br />

regrettable. Or perhaps it’s the impending local lockdown coming<br />

into effect across Merseyside that’s drawing the numbers. From<br />

tomorrow no households can mix outdoors.<br />

At the highest point of the park Liverpool’s city centre<br />

and Wirral face back across. The two land masses make up<br />

the backdrop of this natural proscenium stage. To the front, a<br />

collection of familiar characters enter left and right in this final act<br />

before the lockdown curtain falls. There’s the processional flyby<br />

of wheelie poppin’ kids, a gaggle of aggressive dogs, loitering<br />

weed smokers and optimistic sunbathers. A light breeze nudges<br />

a flow of litter falling from parked cars absorbing the view.<br />

For a more succinct encapsulation of this semi-lockdown,<br />

Hogarthian picture of Liverpool, a few yards away graffiti spells<br />

out “there is such a thing as society”. The active park tells you this<br />

much, even if a second lockdown is looming. Yet, a few metres<br />

higher up sits the scribbled retort: “wake up, Liverpool”.<br />

It’s likely the characters passing us by are familiar to<br />

COURTING, who’ve made their ascent to meet on the hillside.<br />

Some of these characters will have had lines in their kitchen sink<br />

sketches set to angular post-punk arrangements, orchestrated by<br />

metronomic use of cowbell (they defined it “cowbell-core” in <strong>Issue</strong><br />

108). Though their music is less grand theatre and more slick<br />

improv, such is the urgency of their sardonic lyrical observations<br />

and apathetic-cum-activist demeanour. It’s a ripe combination for<br />

a climate where nobody knows what the fuck is going on.<br />

While Courting haven’t shied from broaching society’s bigger<br />

issues through a combination of guttural vocals and frenetic riffs,<br />

the five-piece are much more reserved in person. There’s no<br />

immediate desire to spell out right from wrong as we meet on the<br />

hillside. When our photographer begins to capture the scene, the<br />

pictures reveal a group of unassuming friends who are mostly still<br />

teenagers. Nothing seems particularly serious to them as they<br />

hide smiles for the photos. Conversation regularly tails off, noting<br />

how “Ringo is the best Beatle, isn’t he?”, or how two pigeons should<br />

sit atop the Liver Building as the true emblems of Liverpool.<br />

The band have had a better 2020 than most. Since the turn<br />

of the year they’ve released two singles, received plays on BBC<br />

Radio 1, been playlisted on BBC Radio 6 Music and made the<br />

final eight of Glastonbury’s emerging talent competition. All that<br />

while still holding onto the freshness in their faces. But it hasn’t<br />

all been plain sailing from day one. It’s been a rise so quick they<br />

can vividly remember when the landscape wasn’t so welcoming<br />

to their brand of irony-clad post-punk just two years ago.<br />

“When we started, we were really shit,” vocalist/guitarist<br />

Sean Murphy-O’Neill confesses, perched cross-legged in some<br />

tall grass at the peak of the park, his yellow shirt matching the<br />

wilted flowerheads dotted around. It’s an assessment reflected in<br />

the band’s early live reviews which were, well, damning. Yet, the<br />

band weren’t deterred.<br />

As well as tightening up on stage in the following months<br />

to take the form of the band we see today, they took literal<br />

ownership of their perceived ‘shitness’ – printing less than<br />

favourable review comments on a range of merch. It’s a move<br />

that typifies the band; embracing and owning theirs and<br />

contemporary society’s shit state of affairs and rolling it into<br />

something less fatalistic.<br />

“It seemed to work in our favour,” says bassist Sam Brennan.<br />

“We spun it,” says Murphy-O’Neill, before adding with<br />

measured confidence, “and now I don’t think we’re really shit at all.”<br />

Most of the band – including Sean Thomas on drums and<br />

Michael Downes on guitar – are friends from college. Newlyadded<br />

guitarist Josh Cope, whose Yorkshire accent is the anomaly<br />

to the south Liverpool drawl echoing between the four others,<br />

joined up while at university. Of the five, it is the two Seans who<br />

are the designated “parents” of the band, as they put it to me.<br />

Courting are still very much climbing the arc of their<br />

trajectory, but there was a distinct upward leap over the first<br />

half of this year. It’s one we reflect on, noting the transition from<br />

scathing review fodder to a band breathing down the studio<br />

glass of institutional radio waves. Although it still isn’t getting to<br />

their heads.<br />

“It’s a real ambition of ours to make music that sounds like<br />

we don’t give a shit,” says Murphy-O’Neill, looking down at the<br />

grass with a prophetic air.<br />

12


“It’s our mantra<br />

to stop guitar<br />

music from being<br />

a dirty word”<br />

FEATURE<br />

13


In terms of merch designs, the assertion is evident. Yet their<br />

early releases do little to back up this asserted lack of care. First<br />

singles Not Yr Man and Football reflect the purposeful, snarled<br />

societal countenances of Shame and Idles, with distinct shades<br />

of local contemporaries Eyesore & The Jinx in the barbed lyrical<br />

humour decrying the washed-out English Rose. If anything, the<br />

songs emit a confused energy through a collision of apathy<br />

and protestation.<br />

Murphy-O’Neill notes how much of this feeling is centred on<br />

contemporary Englishness, with the rest of the band nodding in<br />

agreement. It’s a theme that places national identity in a frame of<br />

impassivity. A sort of headstrong carelessness in its day-to-day.<br />

“Let me be your Northern Rail/I wanna let you down”, he laments<br />

on the band’s first single Not Yr Man – a feverish two-and-a-halfminute<br />

stab at garish masculinity and lad culture.<br />

The swipe at the English pastime of mundane repetition is<br />

picked up again on Football, their follow-up single released in<br />

January. “It’s a bit more of an observational piece,” says Murphy-<br />

O’Neill of a song that screams football over 50 times in less than<br />

two minutes. “I think the community sport provides in this country,<br />

and that whole pub culture that goes with it, is what we’re taking<br />

the piss out of. When you subtract the racists from that equation,<br />

there’s something quite romantic about [English] culture – when<br />

you can overlook the awful politics that are omnipresent.”<br />

The pub culture, weekend casuals and casual racism Murphy<br />

O’Neill refers to serves as the centrepiece for the band’s breakout<br />

single, David Byrne’s Badside, released in May. Taking aim at<br />

English exceptionalism, the song pulls up a sticky bar stool at<br />

your average local before listening in on the “I’m not a racist,<br />

but…” mantra swirling between walls adorned with bric-a-brac<br />

championing colonial victories.<br />

“That was a big step for us. For the first few months, we<br />

were trying to do punky songs, then we wrote David Byrne’s<br />

Badside and thought ‘this is not very punk at all’, but it’s just as<br />

good,” he says of the song, which was released by indie label<br />

Nice Swan, where company has been shared by Sports Team,<br />

Queen Zee and Pip Blom.<br />

Stepping away from the clattering riffs, the track dials<br />

down the distortion and borrows the sails from Doherty and<br />

Barât’s good ship Albion for a breezier nod to mid-2000s indie<br />

– complete with sax solo and sarcasm. “I think from that point<br />

onwards, we just kind of make whatever music we want, where<br />

we’ll try to leave some kind of touchstones between the songs.<br />

So, for us, the lyricism is really involved,” Murphy-O’Neill explains.<br />

The lyrical touchstones, as the band elude to, coalesce<br />

around social discomforts. Personal discomforts for themselves<br />

– the social expectation to love football in a city defined by its loyalty to red or blue – and the wider<br />

communities of England. It’s well documented that the picture of little England is far from the sedate<br />

image framed on the walls of the Queens Arms, The Crown, Red Lion or The Ship. But the band don’t<br />

want to add to the barrage of sloganeering that’s caught hold of contemporary guitar bands. Instead,<br />

there’s only a deep-set irony worn as armour against the regressive tendencies of broken Britain.<br />

“I think it’s hard-pressed being one of those bands where their mission is to, like, save the world<br />

and, and fix all these problems,” says Murphy-O’Neill. “We know it’s impossible to do that as a band<br />

or as an artist. But, if you can, you can maybe start a conversation and do it in a way that’s not so<br />

pretentious and not so harsh. I think that’s kind of the way to go.”<br />

It’s a feeling that chimes well with Football, a song which questions so much of tunnel vision<br />

casual sports culture even when saying so little.<br />

“The fact that it got adopted by, like, actual people who like football was quite amusing to me,<br />

because it was just meant to be a bit silly,” laughs Murphy O’Neill. “It was a bit of a joke at the kind<br />

of bands where the chorus is just one word being shouted over and over again, just because it<br />

sticks in your head. But people took that quite seriously.”<br />

Seriousness is clearly something that goes against the raison d’être of the band.<br />

“Our goal is to not take anything we do too seriously. Everything should be taken with just a bit<br />

of a hint of piss-take,” Murphy-O’Neill confirms.<br />

“I think you can you can find that in most of our songs anyway,” adds Thomas. “The songs are<br />

centred on a topic which is serious, but then there’s other lines that will just, like, ease the tension<br />

a bit.” Namely references to The Chase, the appalling reliability of Northern Rail pacers, or the<br />

possible ill temperament of indie-god provocateur David Byrne.<br />

As Murphy-O’Neill stated earlier, there remains a fascination of English culture in Courting’s<br />

music. It’s one that draws on the jaded regression of contemporary politics and its tired rhetoric.<br />

This inadequacy of England’s hit and hope, cavalier spirit has been fairly evident since 2016<br />

and well-documented in cultural responses, too. That summer aggressively tore what was an<br />

already frayed national consciousness in two. Two neat cantons were left. On one side of the<br />

line, thankfully, for the safety of the world’s ears, there hasn’t been an uptake in pro-nationalist<br />

indie rock. Mainly just cry-arsing about whether a choral arrangement can shout about Britain’s<br />

colonial successes in late summer. But on the other side of the line there’s been a distinct rise in<br />

bands shouting about political injustice. Artists putting forward a charged antidote for the inherent<br />

blindness in Brexit Britain.<br />

It’s a frustration that is likely to have captured those who voted against the outcome in 2016,<br />

and the hopeless trudge in attempting to overturn the outcome in the years after. But for those<br />

who couldn’t vote at the time, like Courting, it’s been four long years of waiting for the inevitable.<br />

No say either way. There’s no sense in shouting at deaf ears, so why bother? It’s an attitude that<br />

punctuates their political outlook. A move where apathetically looking on in disgust has emerged as<br />

the most telling form of protest and activism.<br />

“I think there are a lot of bands who claim to be, like, politically charged, but they’re not really. I<br />

feel like it’s a bit of a label, isn’t it?” Murphy-O’Neill responds.<br />

“It’s really easy for young bands to be, like, you know, ‘Fuck the government’. It’s probably even<br />

easier with everything happening,” Thomas chimes in.<br />

It’s these charged affronts to the current socio-political dichotomy the band speak of that<br />

appear to miss the goal posts. Power is well versed in controlling aggression and outcry. 10 years of<br />

austerity and look where we are. Look who’s in power. Look what they’re doing to us. But it’s satire and<br />

humour that still offers an antagonistic retort which is beckoning ever more authoritarian censorship.<br />

“I think that’s it, [our lyrics] are meant to be a bit cheeky,” replies Murphy-O’Neill, as we<br />

continue to dig further into the band’s defence mechanism of irony.<br />

“A three-minute song where you’re just talking about politics won’t be as fun as a one-minuteand-52-seconds<br />

song where you shout the word football 50 times,” Thomas summarises.<br />

The point does stand. You need only to look back to the acid house explosion of the 1980s for<br />

evidence of this idea previously in action. Eight bars of LFO’s seminal track of the same name offers<br />

are more telling two fingers to Tory rule than Billy Bragg has managed in his entire career. Allowing<br />

space for interpretation can often be the more compelling battle cry than an overt statement.<br />

Ultimately, space is the necessary essence for any movement or protest.<br />

“Start a conversation<br />

and do it in a way that’s<br />

not so pretentious<br />

and not so harsh”<br />

“It’s up to people if they want to read into things,” says<br />

Murphy-O’Neill. “If people want to think it’s just a song about<br />

football, we’re not bothered. We’re not going to get on some sort<br />

of artistic high horse and be like…” He clears his throat to put on<br />

a snooty voice. “‘No, no, it’s not about football, you have to think<br />

about the politics’. We don’t give a shit. Like, if you want to shout<br />

football, that’s the fun of it. If you want to consider what it means,<br />

you can. We’re not really bothered. Our music is less inspired by<br />

Brexit and this idea that England has suddenly become shit. It’s<br />

more inspired by the fact that England has been shit for a long<br />

time. And, you know, you’re kind of born into that.”<br />

On a newly released 7” containing Football and David<br />

Byrne’s Badside, a small English flag is printed on the vinyl label.<br />

Innocuous as it may be, its presence in 2020 often suggests<br />

exclusion or xenophobic rebellion. But the band pin the flag to<br />

their lapel in the same manner they sincerely chant about the footy.<br />

“It sums up how we’re taking the piss,” begins Murphy-O’Neill,<br />

“how that flag is now a racist symbol. It’s seen as a bit nasty.”<br />

“Yeh, if you have it in your Twitter bio or something,”<br />

replies Cope.<br />

“That’s the piss-take,” says Murphy-O’Neill, “I don’t think<br />

we’re trying to reclaim the flag. I’m not arsed about the country<br />

as a country.” Its true presence is there to highlight the same<br />

contradiction displayed by those who celebrate the Georgian<br />

cross but practice casual racism and hostility to minorities, while<br />

ignoring that St George was a middle eastern man.<br />

Through this it’s further reinforced how ironic ownership is a<br />

defining aspect of Courting, a process of wearing the clothes and<br />

looking back in the cracked mirror to show the true sense of folly.<br />

It’s a move that’s typified the band’s visual aesthetic as well as the<br />

lyricism, notably on David Byrne’s Badside which is told from the<br />

perspective of a character with contradictory and racist tendencies.<br />

“We try and play characters of people we don’t like,” answers<br />

Murphy-O’Neill when we press on the subject further. “I read<br />

an interview with Country Teasers where [Ben Wallers] said he<br />

likes to play horrible, horrible people, and tries to sing from their<br />

perspectives. And I think that’s something we definitely took in<br />

mind on David Byrne’s Badside. I think we’ve managed to make<br />

it obvious, without just coming out and screaming what we’re<br />

against. An element of subtlety can actually make it hit a bit<br />

harder than if we were just really obvious.”<br />

The 90s Scottish band Murphy-O’Neill notes were<br />

chameleonic shapeshifters of the unsettling and captivating.<br />

Fat White Family are clear descendants in their quest for an<br />

atmosphere of lurid smut. But it’s the former who controversially<br />

would look to scuff the line between character-led performance<br />

and harboured point of view. The effect can be somewhat galling when listening back. I ask<br />

Murphy-O’Neill if he ever fears wearing the mask will leave an imprint.<br />

“There’s a line to it,” he asserts. “For Country Teasers, the line is blurred. I’m not an advocate for<br />

how they go about doing it. But I think that at least considering the point of view of the person you<br />

hate is maybe a good way of thinking of things to write about them.”<br />

He continues: “Listening to a band like Country Teasers can be incredibly difficult, which can be<br />

a good thing. Because when you listen to them, it kind of reminds you of your own morals, because<br />

you hear something so sickening, you think, ‘I’m glad that I’m repulsed by this’. Even though it’s<br />

coming from someone who is taking the piss, I’m glad it still bothers me. I’m glad I don’t listen to<br />

this in a complacent way when he says things that are so horrible.”<br />

We’ve been sat on the highest point of the hillside for close to an hour. An invasive drone circles<br />

above, a police helicopter treading in the air even higher. At this point the effects of no sun cream<br />

are becoming evident. Solely in sense of weather, the summer has been a good one. Ironically,<br />

it was meant to have been one where football came home again. That was before the pandemic<br />

struck and Euro 2020 was cancelled. Before then it was meant to have been football’s first return<br />

ticket since the summer of 96, another summer typified by its searing heat and national let down.<br />

Not to mention Britpop, a bracket the band are now popping up in.<br />

As genre tags go, the recent labelling of Courting as Britpop could seem a little reductive.<br />

Perhaps there’s similarities in sound on the steady chug and chorus led refrain of their most recent<br />

single, but Courting’s message is incongruent with the genre on the whole. Away from the time<br />

and place encapsulation of Definitely Maybe Oasis, or satirical social commentary of Pulp, they’re<br />

far from the Cool Britannia mould – a cut and paste factory line bearing the signature of faux-New<br />

Labour change. Britpop en masse is vacuous and dangerous apathy. As is ‘guitar music’. Courting<br />

isn’t so much apathy, more so standing your ground, observing the landscape in all its horror. I<br />

suggest Brexpop as a fitting tag, but they aren’t having it. The other genre tag, as Murphy-O’Neill<br />

states, offers up its own incentive.<br />

“We’d like to reclaim the phrase ‘guitar music’ and take it away from being a dirty word,” he says<br />

with a cheeky optimism. “When I hear it, I think of the most boring bands on the planet. I want guitar<br />

music to sound interesting again. That’s what we’re doing. The tag will come more from the music<br />

than the lyrics. It’s our mantra, to stop guitar music from being a dirty word and turn it into something<br />

that’s good again. We don’t want to be labelled as landfill. We want to be thought of as interesting.”<br />

Courting exemplify how not giving a shit is again inherently political. Or rather, they’re helping<br />

to shift the boundaries of protest: what it requires, who it’s aimed at, how it’s carried out. Shouting<br />

back at the Tory void will only lead to exhaustion. So many bands wear that tiredness. Capturing<br />

the miniature, the incidental, the idiosyncratic can reveal much more than making every song a<br />

political flag-bearer. Gyrating carefree to lashings of cowbell can be more rebellious than serving<br />

three chords and “fuck you” addressed directly to Boris Johnson. But even in this assessment it<br />

might be overplaying Courting’s aims. There’s lots of care in what they perceive is a lack of it.<br />

“It is just a laugh, you know. I’m not doing this to put on my CV, we’re not doing it so that we<br />

can just be liked,” say Murphy-O’Neill. “But, at the end of the day, if you want to make your career<br />

out of having a laugh, you’ve got to make sure you’re good at it.”<br />

“It’s a structured laugh,” replies Cope as we exit the hillside, the cast of characters still in their<br />

places. “It’s a laugh with some concern,” concludes Murphy-O’Neill. !<br />

Words: Elliot Ryder / @elliot_ryder<br />

Photography: Marieke Macklon / @mariekemacklon<br />

courtingband.com<br />

Pop Shop will be available from 6th <strong>November</strong> via Nice Swan Records.<br />

14


FEATURE<br />

15


PLAYING IN<br />

In this third report, detailing the findings of our musicians’ survey carried out in partnership with the<br />

University of Liverpool, we look at responses relating to releasing music and self-promotion during the<br />

months of lockdown. The findings illustrate a desire within artists to keep releasing music and retain<br />

visibility despite challenging circumstances, yet the ability to retain profile proved difficult with the greater<br />

emphasis on social media.<br />

The ensuing Covid-19 pandemic has seen venues<br />

close and changed the music industry as we know it.<br />

When the situation took hold in March, musicians were<br />

somewhat forced to take stock and evaluate their next<br />

steps moving forward.<br />

Was releasing new music a good idea when the opportunity<br />

of playing it live and testing the reaction was not possible? With<br />

everyone stuck at home, was lockdown a good opportunity to<br />

work on developing a greater online fanbase? The first lockdown<br />

came as a key crossroad for how some musicians operated dayto-day.<br />

Of the 175 respondents that took part in our survey, 39 per<br />

cent changed plans to release recorded music due to the impact<br />

of Covid-19. Of those that decided to change their plans, 73 per<br />

cent delayed their releases, put their release schedule on hold or<br />

cancelled their plans entirely.<br />

Out of the respondents that continued with plans, 52 per<br />

cent released a single, 28 per cent released a full album and<br />

31 per cent continued with an independent physical release.<br />

Additionally, 40 per cent of artists that responded had no<br />

intentions of releasing recorded music.<br />

For some, the hours of work that went into the studio<br />

production for releases – the nights toiling over the writing of<br />

songs, the days spent in practice spaces and the collaborative<br />

efforts from artists, managers and the press to help promote the<br />

release – all had to be put on hold as artists felt the climate was<br />

not conducive to releasing new music.<br />

The great uncertainty of what was to come in the following<br />

months was enough for some artists to delay releases until more<br />

sustainable times. One respondent said: “We put all plans on<br />

hold until we had an idea of how long this was going to last and<br />

what changes there would be.”<br />

Another common reason was the lack of practice spaces, live<br />

16<br />

shows and recording opportunities to develop new tracks before<br />

releasing, as potential changes were unable to be resolved<br />

without band members being in the same room. “A series of<br />

singles were to be recorded over<br />

the last few months with the<br />

band, but this hasn’t happened<br />

as we wanted to all be physically<br />

present when recording. We<br />

may have to abandon these<br />

plans altogether and do things<br />

differently,” one respondent said,<br />

with another adding: “With no<br />

live shows to promote the songs<br />

we thought it would be best to<br />

delay the releases indefinitely.”<br />

The problems weren’t only<br />

limited to independent artists.<br />

Acts signed to labels faced similar<br />

problems as three respondents<br />

with label support also delayed<br />

the release of an album, with one<br />

changing it from early summer<br />

2020 all the way to 2021. Others<br />

described the impact as “playing the waiting game”, “a damned<br />

shame” and a “total headache”.<br />

However, lockdown still proved an opportunity for some to<br />

weather the storm and keep going with intended plans. 21 per<br />

cent went ahead with their intended release schedules with 16<br />

per cent of respondents starting new PR campaigns.<br />

Although the inability to perform on a stage was damaging<br />

to some, others, as we saw in our last article, took to online<br />

streaming gigs as a means to continue the promotion of their<br />

music. Innovative use of online social media, more time to focus<br />

“I didn’t feel like<br />

it was suitable to<br />

promote myself when<br />

people were dying”<br />

on music and the continued release of material allowed the<br />

momentum to keep going and for artists to have the ability to<br />

put their music in front of fans who were also stuck at home.<br />

Of those that continued<br />

releasing, 38 per cent cited<br />

momentum as a key reason as<br />

they didn’t want all the hard work<br />

they did before to go to waste.<br />

For some independent artists<br />

who don’t follow the stricter setups<br />

of label release schedules,<br />

lockdown proved to be a time<br />

to test out new ideas and to see<br />

what worked. Halting operations<br />

completely could do more harm<br />

than good for an artist just<br />

starting out. “Why not?” said one<br />

respondent. “We finished two<br />

pieces of music we were really<br />

happy with and we’re still kind of<br />

starting out, there was no reason<br />

not to continue, really.”<br />

“There had been a lot of<br />

planning and money put into the release of the album. We<br />

wanted to also avoid the potential backlog of everybody else<br />

pushing back their releases until the end of the year,” another<br />

added.<br />

Wirral art-rock trio SPQR are one band who have remained<br />

active over lockdown, pressing on with putting out an EP, a 7”<br />

and uploading a collection of early tracks on streaming services<br />

via their own label Nuthin Gud Records. Lockdown gave the<br />

group a break from touring to focus on recording new material<br />

which proved positive for their artistic motivation. “Having that<br />

time to write and record has given me confidence,” said the<br />

band’s Peter Harrison. “I’ve never felt I’ve written anything this<br />

good as I’ve never had this much time [to put towards music].”<br />

Although the negatives and frustrations of not being able to<br />

perform live were present, Harrison saw a positive side moving<br />

forward. “Lockdown is just another setback that we have to get<br />

over,” he added. “We’ve had to go through a lot to get to where<br />

we are and this is just another challenge.”<br />

Before lockdown, social media was a key aspect of artist<br />

development as it provided an opportunity for them to connect<br />

with fans outside of a live music setting. Not all artists opted<br />

to utilise the platforms to their full potential. However,<br />

as lockdown removed the opportunities of physical<br />

interaction, social media became the only way for artists<br />

to connect with fans.<br />

Across our respondents an average of 40 per cent<br />

saw a growth in their social media interactions during<br />

lockdown, yet 19 per cent saw a decline.<br />

Looking deeper into the data displays some more<br />

interesting results: 31 per cent recognised they had<br />

actively engaged more on the platforms by adding<br />

more content, with 14 per cent showing a specific<br />

boost after live streaming activities. Additionally,<br />

19 per cent saw change when they released new<br />

music. Contrastingly, 22 per cent added less content<br />

with five per cent taking a social media break<br />

altogether seeing it as an opportunity to reassess and<br />

practice more on their music or personal lives.<br />

Artists engaged with the platforms in multiple<br />

ways, from posting video content in the form of<br />

covers, music videos, live streaming gigs and, in a few<br />

instances, even a DIY festival. Instagram Live proved<br />

a useful feature with artists using the platform for polls<br />

and quizzes and a unique opportunity to live stream<br />

performances and direct fan Q&As.<br />

One respondent saw the opportunity to watch videos and<br />

educate themselves on how to use social media effectively as<br />

“the one reason they were grateful for lockdown”.<br />

SPQR’s Harrison related to these frustrations of not being<br />

as active online as others and having concerns. “All of a sudden<br />

you’ve had to move from someone who writes songs to being<br />

a ‘content creator’ and a lot of us [musicians] just aren’t that at<br />

all,” he said. “I felt like I wasn’t doing enough online and I was


worried the band would disappear.<br />

But then I thought ‘what does it<br />

actually mean?’<br />

“If you’re spending all your time<br />

on social media, it might not do you<br />

any favours. If I was posting every<br />

day to stay relevant it might not<br />

work because that’s not what me or<br />

the band is about.”<br />

However, reflecting on the<br />

impact of social media interactions<br />

on streaming figures produces<br />

mixed results. The continuing push<br />

of Spotify links proved successful<br />

as 29 per cent of artists saw a growth in streaming figures<br />

on the platform, with an 11 per cent rise on Apple Music and<br />

26 per cent on YouTube. Across all respondents only four per<br />

cent reported a decline in figures and around a third remained<br />

unchanged.<br />

Much like social media, the artists that saw growth on<br />

streaming platforms were the ones that were posting the most<br />

content and knew how best to engage. Although it might be<br />

frustrating for artists who don’t know how to manage online<br />

promotion to its highest potential; in a data-driven, online<br />

streaming age social media is an essential tool for artists in<br />

search of popular appeal.<br />

A key aspect of this study was to show compassion and<br />

understand the opinions of the artists behind the data. For some<br />

artists, not being able to perform and share their talents had a<br />

profound effect on their mental health as their creative worlds<br />

and livelihoods were dramatically changed.<br />

The resultant months of uncertainty became a crossroads for<br />

artists as it was a test of their abilities to conduct and promote<br />

themselves as a musician effectively at home during lockdown.<br />

A prevailing negative in the data shows a great lack of overall<br />

optimism, with 65 per cent saying they were not confident<br />

operating themselves, compared to only 32 per cent who were<br />

confident.<br />

The technical side of operating at home was the stand-out<br />

aspect of pessimism: 41 per cent said they were not confident<br />

promoting themselves online from home. However, many<br />

expressed that their lack of technical knowledge of social media<br />

platforms led to demotivation, with some avoiding it altogether.<br />

The moral questions surrounding promoting music during a<br />

global pandemic and times of increased social unrest made some<br />

feel “pushy” or “intrusive” for putting themselves out there for<br />

personal gains in collectively troubled times.<br />

One respondent said: “I was freaked out and didn’t feel like<br />

it was suitable to promote myself when people were dying.”<br />

Another, discussing their frustration with social media, said: “It<br />

just doesn’t cut the mustard and it’s not what music is supposed<br />

to be about. I don’t understand how anyone has time to make<br />

music with the amount<br />

of social media musicians<br />

are expected to do in<br />

the best of times, so<br />

switching to a world<br />

where it’s the only outlet<br />

for music/performance is<br />

grim.”<br />

Additionally, 11<br />

per cent described<br />

themselves as “live<br />

based artists” and<br />

therefore were unable<br />

to operate effectively<br />

at home; and another<br />

15 per cent stated live<br />

performances were key<br />

to their promotion and<br />

live streaming was not<br />

an effective method for<br />

them. One artist said: “I<br />

have managed to keep<br />

practising, but the lack of<br />

physical audience and other musicians makes for an existential<br />

crisis. It’s hard to justify your niche when you’re competing with<br />

literally the whole world on a given platform.”<br />

The results paint a depreciated picture for some artists during<br />

lockdown as many felt left out of the online circus of social media<br />

due to lack of technical know-how, motivation or ability to conduct<br />

themselves effectively. This suggests a need for more support<br />

and education for artists during crises so they can learn the skills<br />

of how to effectively promote themselves online without causing<br />

frustration or dismay.<br />

Lockdown is a temporary yet very frustrating setback for<br />

artists who choose not to become digitised. The mystique behind<br />

the music can sometimes feel lost when artists compel themselves<br />

to post on social media every day and broaden yet somewhat<br />

saturate their appeal.<br />

Reflecting on his<br />

feelings towards the past<br />

few months, Peter Harrison<br />

profoundly concluded: “I<br />

hope this lockdown will help<br />

artists to realise that it isn’t<br />

all about rushing around and<br />

the business side of it all.<br />

You’re still an artist if you’re<br />

at home making your art.<br />

Just because you’re not at<br />

a gig or there aren’t people<br />

watching you doesn’t make<br />

your music or art any less<br />

legitimate.” !<br />

Words: Will Whitby / @WillyWhitby<br />

Lead researchers and data analysis: Dr Mathew Flynn and<br />

Richard Anderson, University of Liverpool<br />

Illustration: Esmée Finlay / @efinlayillustration<br />

The next stage of this research will take place via a consultation<br />

event led by Bido Lito!, University of Liverpool and other<br />

musician support organisations on Tuesday 27th October via<br />

Zoom. The event will consider the wider impacts across the<br />

sector with venues, promoters, educators and other industry<br />

professionals encouraged to take part.<br />

To register head to bidolito.co.uk/consultation<br />

FEATURE<br />

17


18


TABITHA<br />

JADE<br />

Tabitha Jade is doing things her own way as she looks to leave a mark on contemporary RnB and Afrobeat.<br />

Orla Foster finds out why hard work and self-belief are all part chasing the dream.<br />

“I<br />

feel like with music, you can never rush things,”<br />

reflects TABITHA JADE. She’s on the brink of releasing<br />

debut EP No Label, but getting to this point has been<br />

quite a journey. In typical 2020 fashion, the release<br />

date was postponed, the studio visits rationed, the launch party<br />

cancelled. But still, she’s sanguine. “There was a lot of stress and<br />

I had to push things back. It’s been challenging! But you do have<br />

to be patient and get it right.”<br />

Luckily, patience is a virtue Tabitha cultivated a long time<br />

ago. Hailing from West Kirby, the 20-year-old has invested<br />

nearly a decade into her career already. After penning her first<br />

song at 11, by 14 she was the youngest act ever to play Sound<br />

City. The next few years were spent recording demos,<br />

entering contests and winning over the wine bars of Wirral<br />

before she was old enough to order a glass. She must be<br />

weary of people marvelling at her age, but it’s hard not to be<br />

impressed by what she’s achieved.<br />

“I was quite confident when I was younger. I wanted to<br />

get music out, and carry on with the journey,” she explains,<br />

lightly. “Doing competitions and getting constructive<br />

feedback just made me want to do better.”<br />

Still, that’s a pretty packed schedule for a teenager.<br />

What was it like juggling festival bookings with school?<br />

“Music never got in the way of my studies,” she tells me.<br />

“I went to Upton, which was a good school. I had to revise<br />

when I could, but it never really clashed. Singing was literally<br />

just my escape and something fun to do after classes.”<br />

I went to that school, too, but I can’t imagine being so<br />

focused. I recall myself moribund in a green uniform, walking<br />

endlessly to the sweetshop in the rain. It was a far cry from<br />

Tabitha Jade’s double life: double maths by day, aspiring RnB<br />

powerhouse by night. But back to those wine bars, and their<br />

acoustic nights. When did she realise her original material was<br />

strong enough to shelve the covers?<br />

“I didn’t have quite the same love for covers,” she admits.<br />

“Whenever I wrote a new song, I would just play it out in the<br />

open mic night and see if the reaction I got was good or bad.<br />

At the time, I hadn’t experienced too much, so I would just take<br />

inspiration from movies and other people’s experiences. But I<br />

always like to push myself, I don’t stay in my comfort zone.”<br />

Did she ever feel self-conscious, edging away from<br />

renditions of Amy Winehouse towards more biographical<br />

material?<br />

“Yeh, because a lot of my lyrics are very direct and have a<br />

clear storyline. I used to feel embarrassed for my family to hear<br />

them. Or for a guy to hear a hate song I wrote about him!” she<br />

laughs. “I mean, I’ll be shy for, like, a day, but once it’s out there,<br />

it’s out there.”<br />

Which song first cemented her sound?<br />

“Secret, because it really locked in who I wanted to be as<br />

an artist, and I felt like I was writing honest lyrics. It’s about this<br />

relationship… well, it wasn’t even a relationship. I was chatting to<br />

this guy for months and it wasn’t progressing anywhere. I was<br />

like, ‘Where is this going? I don’t want to be a secret, I don’t want<br />

to be hidden. Am I wasting my time?’”<br />

There’s a similar philosophy on latest single FYI, which is<br />

equally forthright in its skewering of male indecisiveness: “I<br />

wanted to bring the sass back!” she says, assertively. “That<br />

song’s about showing you know your worth, that you don’t want<br />

to be messed around, and that you respect yourself.”<br />

If the take-no-prisoners approach reminds you of Destiny’s<br />

Child’s landmark record The Writing’s On The Wall then it’s no<br />

accident; artists such as Destiny’s Child, Lauryn Hill and Ciara<br />

are key influences. Tabitha describes her aesthetic as “edgy,<br />

futuristic and glam”, words which sum up the songcraft as well<br />

as the visuals. While her style is maximal, with lots of metallics<br />

and immaculate make-up, recalling the visionary, slightly spaceage<br />

allure of millennium-era RnB, it’s the message of female<br />

empowerment which really hits home. This is a song about<br />

negotiating your own space and refusing to compromise.<br />

This brings us nicely to the new EP. It’s a blueprint for<br />

Tabitha Jade’s sound, with equal parts nostalgia and innovation.<br />

While the shimmering, melismatic vocals and sleek production<br />

feel like a timely throwback to Knowles and co., the Afrobeat<br />

stylings keep things anchored in 2020. But besides showcasing<br />

her love for 00s RnB, Tabitha Jade also wanted to encapsulate<br />

the myriad influences which have shaped her identity, starting<br />

with the title.<br />

“No Label has two meanings for me,” she explains. “The first<br />

is about not fitting into any mould; I grew up in a mixed heritage<br />

background, with a white mum and a black dad, and although<br />

they didn’t sing or play instruments, they’ve always been really<br />

interested in music,” she starts. “My dad collects vinyl and would<br />

always be showing me old American soul and jazz records, while<br />

my mum’s really into her<br />

dance. And playing in<br />

Liverpool means that I’ve<br />

always been surrounded<br />

by rock music, which<br />

is why my songs have<br />

“I’ve had to<br />

hustle and get<br />

things done”<br />

those powerful, punchy<br />

vocals.<br />

“The other side of it<br />

is about being an artist<br />

without a record label.<br />

I wanted to celebrate<br />

being self-motivated<br />

and not having to rely on<br />

anyone. Back in the day,<br />

especially, there was such emphasis on getting signed to make<br />

it. But being hands-on with your vision makes it come to life,<br />

makes your product exactly what you want it to be. If you leave it<br />

with other people, they won’t put the same effort in.”<br />

I agree that Tabitha’s autonomy is part of what makes her<br />

music exciting. You never see her stall or wait for permission:<br />

her career is safely in her own capable hands. At the same time,<br />

I’m wary of letting myself harp on about an artist’s resilience<br />

and self-sufficiency while the creative landscape around us gets<br />

torched to the ground. The UK’s musical infrastructure is not<br />

healthy. Why should young, talented artists have to shoulder all<br />

of the administration and financial risk of putting out a record?<br />

“I’m not saying that I would never want to be signed,<br />

because as you get bigger you may need more people on the<br />

team,” Tabitha expands. “But I am saying that, while you’re<br />

independent, you should enjoy it. I’ve had to hustle and get<br />

things done as cheaply as I can, but I also have freedom to totally<br />

oversee every project. I can build up beats myself, experiment<br />

with the vibe, direct videos and design cover art. It means that<br />

when I show ideas to a producer, they get the vision straight<br />

away.”<br />

It’s obvious Tabitha Jade is well equipped to weather the<br />

challenges of going DIY. Still, I’m curious if she ever experiences<br />

self-doubt, and if so, how she overrides it?<br />

“100 per cent,” she quickly replies. “Over lockdown, I was<br />

a lot more anxious, I felt weirdly pressured, there was almost a<br />

trend on social media saying ‘use this to your advantage!’, ‘get<br />

ahead of the game!’ I was like, ‘Right, I’m getting ahead of the<br />

game, let’s do this!’ But I put too much pressure on myself and<br />

genuinely cracked.<br />

“I think being nice to yourself is honestly the best thing to<br />

do. Most people get voices of doubt, but you can channel that<br />

energy,” she continues. “There are definitely times when I think,<br />

‘Oh my god, when is my day gonna come?’ But it’s about looking<br />

back at your achievements, celebrating them and knowing that<br />

you’re going to achieve a lot more.”<br />

Then again, if you’re Tabitha Jade, stopping to catch your<br />

breath barely seems an option. Even in March, when the<br />

lockdown was at its most weird and siege-like, she didn’t skip<br />

a beat, just picked up her guitar and streamed songs from her<br />

bedroom. Did that help her reconnect with her audience?<br />

“Personally, I didn’t like the Instagram lives too much,”<br />

she concedes. “It’s not human to me. There was no crowd,<br />

no atmosphere, and you’d just be starting a song then get<br />

random comments right away. I’m actually more nervous about<br />

streaming shows than I am on a festival stage in front of a<br />

thousand people.”<br />

I ask how she’s adapted her live show over time to reflect<br />

the artist she is today; for example, last summer’s stellar slot at<br />

Africa Oyé. She tells me about the band she’s worked with the<br />

past five years, and how their close rapport gives them freedom<br />

to deconstruct the songs, experimenting with samples and loops<br />

mid-set rather than just duplicating the recorded versions. One<br />

of the band members is her younger sister Eliza Mai, whose own<br />

musical career is rooted in earthy, 90s soul, and who has been<br />

a source of inspiration and support from the beginning. “We<br />

started this journey together,” she shares, “and it’s amazing to<br />

have someone your own age who understands your music so<br />

deeply. We’re always learning from each other.”<br />

While both artists are an asset to Liverpool’s music scene,<br />

being a female RnB artist isn’t always plain sailing in a city<br />

historically used to trumpeting its overwhelmingly male guitar<br />

bands. Although Tabitha is a versatile performer whose sound<br />

takes in plenty of different genres and influences, it’s still obvious<br />

that black voices in Liverpool aren’t always getting the exposure<br />

they deserve.<br />

But this, hopefully, is changing. Two days after we speak,<br />

Tabitha is due to perform at BlackFest, a festival championing<br />

black artists and communities in Liverpool. Although curfew<br />

restrictions mean there won’t be a full audience, she’s excited<br />

to play a gig IRL. She will also join a panel of young artists<br />

discussing their experiences of making music in Liverpool. What<br />

are her thoughts on the city’s representation of black music?<br />

“I think it used to be really overlooked,” she says. “Now I can<br />

see efforts from people, but there’s still a lot of work to do. We<br />

all know Liverpool for the indie, but there’s so much talent from<br />

RnB, rap, soul artists. Big names need to come out of Liverpool<br />

from that music.”<br />

Now based between Liverpool and London, Tabitha Jade’s<br />

influence extends beyond this city’s walls, but those Mersey ties<br />

are still strong – with local names like Tremz and Shak Omar<br />

guest-starring on her releases. After we brainstorm on what<br />

makes for a good day on the Wirral (a sunny beach walk, plus<br />

frozen yoghurt from Hoylake with extra Lotus sauce), I quiz her<br />

on the move. Now entering her third year at Goldsmiths, Tabitha<br />

Jade is equally at home in Shoreditch as on West Kirby’s sleepy<br />

shores. Was she ever worried about transplanting her life and<br />

career to a new city?<br />

“No, I wasn’t hesitant at all; I’m an adventurous person, I<br />

always want to experience new things. But if you want to meet<br />

people in London, you have to go out and make the effort,” she<br />

cautions. “It doesn’t just come to you.”<br />

There’s a frisson of that new-city excitement in last year’s<br />

music video for Right Here. Tabitha arrives in her dorm, unboxes<br />

her family photos, figures out where to put her plants, then<br />

bounds out into the neighbourhood to leaf through records and<br />

try on vintage clothes with friends. It’s a particularly happy,<br />

carefree snapshot of her life, which feels all the more poignant<br />

as she and her fellow students brace themselves for another<br />

semester of online tutorials. Having established a strong creative<br />

network with her university peers, lockdown must have come as<br />

a blow.<br />

Not that a global standstill could ever really slow Tabitha<br />

Jade down. In the year from hell, she’s delivered an excellent<br />

record and is already spilling over with ideas for the next. So<br />

what advice does she have for future generations of aspiring<br />

singer-songwriters, who might this very moment be borrowing<br />

their dad’s records and humming melodies into their iPhones?<br />

“Just have fun with your music and don’t be scared to make<br />

mistakes,” she replies, poised as always. “You only have one life,<br />

so you may as well just go for your dream.” !<br />

Words: Orla Foster<br />

Photography: Michael Kirkham / @MrKirks<br />

@tabithajadex<br />

No Label will be released in <strong>November</strong>.<br />

FEATURE<br />

19


Stepping out as working-class, hometown heroes, Red Rum Club have<br />

planted their flag at the highest peak of the Sefton Sierra.<br />

The Sefton Sierra. It has a nice ring to it, even if it may<br />

seem a little far-fetched. But even if the slack waters of<br />

the Irish Sea and its soft dunes may appear incongruous<br />

with the arid mountains of El Paso, the Sierra<br />

connection isn’t empty. It’s one that’s been lapping up ever more<br />

on the banks of the Mersey in recent years.<br />

Just past the docks of Seaforth, RED RUM CLUB have been<br />

hard at work bringing in an exotic import of their own. It’s a<br />

spirited sound that’s injected a Latin American edge to our damp,<br />

windswept city.<br />

The sextuplet have gained a strong following across the North<br />

West of late, with a well-deserved rush of support arriving after<br />

the release of their debut album, Matador, in 2019.<br />

Today, as we catch up with frontman Francis Doran over<br />

the phone, all focus is on their party-starting second offering,<br />

The Hollow Of Humdrum.<br />

Comprising of Doran on lead vocals, Tom Williams (guitar<br />

and backing vocals), Michael McDermott (guitar and backing<br />

vocals), Simon Hepworth (bass), Neil Lawson (drums) and Joe<br />

Corby (trumpet), the collective has already attained quite the set<br />

of enviable millstones – all while still maintaining an ascent. The<br />

mariachi lads have tirelessly trodden the gig circuit, sold out the<br />

Liverpool O2 Academy with ease, played the BBC Introducing<br />

Stage at Glastonbury and are now gearing up to play one of their<br />

biggest shows to date, headlining Liverpool Sound City in 2021.<br />

The band have something of a cult status at home, but, if<br />

anything, they’re one of the centralised forces in Liverpool’s musical<br />

offering – such is their unifying level of reach. You only have to walk<br />

around the cobbled streets of Liverpool to see their posters on<br />

every corner, or someone sporting a Red Rum Club T-shirt, beer in<br />

hand at a bar. But they haven’t always been on the receiving end of<br />

such platitudes, owners of such status. It’s been a rise defined by<br />

good old Scouse graft and humility. Picking up the phone today, the<br />

sodden weather a far cry from the Sierra Madre, we begin at the<br />

start with Fran shedding light on how it all came to be.<br />

“Me and Tom are cousins,” Fran explains. “The other lads were<br />

all in different bands in different formations. We were all playing in<br />

the same pubs and clubs locally and we got to know each other.<br />

Mike made a bit of a dream team. He picked the five of us and<br />

said, ‘Do you fancy all coming to have a jam?’.” A standard band<br />

formation, nothing out of the ordinary. That’s until Tom came to join.<br />

“Our Tom wasn’t meant to be in the band,” Fran recalls, laughing,<br />

“but he had nothing to do that day and his mum rang my mum<br />

and made me take him to band practise.” Sometimes it pays having<br />

nothing to do on a Saturday afternoon. “We got serious about Red<br />

Rum Club around the end of 2016 and it just went from there.”<br />

At the time, Red Rum Club were a five-piece, sans trumpet,<br />

until their then manager encouraged them to try and think of<br />

ways to stand out from the crowd. “They told us to try something<br />

different. That week Mike bumped into Joe, who we went to<br />

school with, and he dropped into conversation that he played the<br />

trumpet. He came to practice, and we just haven’t been able to get<br />

rid of him since,” Fran jokes. I’m sure getting rid of Joe isn’t high on<br />

their list of priorities given his piercing fills have come to define so<br />

much of their sound.<br />

Inspired by northern bands like The Beatles, The Coral, Echo<br />

& the Bunnymen, The Zutons and The Last Shadow Puppets, the<br />

addition of the trumpet’s Latin influence gives them that no-holdsbarred<br />

edge they were after. “When we first got the trumpet in<br />

I think we thought it would be a bit more like The Last Shadow<br />

Puppets, a bit more big band,” Fran explains, “but over time we<br />

were writing songs that had more of a groove, more of a swagger.<br />

The guitar tones that Tom and Mike came up with were also<br />

very spaghetti western, Quentin Tarantino-esque and they just<br />

complemented this mariachi style. We just milked it then. We had<br />

a trumpet and a mariachi sound, so we started writing to [fit that<br />

atmosphere].”<br />

Fran recalls how the band was originally meant to be a skiffle<br />

group, like that of early Beatles incarnation The Quarrymen. While<br />

Red Rum Club might not have stuck with that swinging 60s rock<br />

’n’ roll sound of the Fab Four, they recognise how important the<br />

original lads from Liverpool have been on their own journey as<br />

a band. “A few days ago, I got asked to do a video about John<br />

Lennon, about being a musician in Liverpool, and I never really<br />

thought about [the significance of The Beatles on us] until I got<br />

asked,” he starts. “I realised that, subconsciously, I have a massive<br />

belief and I feel confident in the music industry because The<br />

Beatles had done it. They were just these lads from Liverpool that<br />

took over the music industry, they changed the world and music<br />

changed because of it.<br />

“I feel like we have a little bit more confidence a little bit more<br />

of a spring in our step, especially when we go further afield around<br />

the UK and Europe. We’ve got that Liverpool rubber stamp.”<br />

In Fran’s own words, the early days of Red Rum Club were all<br />

about a way to drink in pubs for cheap and impress girls, until it<br />

became clear that this was a career path they wanted to take. The<br />

hard work stepped up a gear, their named changed and original<br />

songs were produced.<br />

It hasn’t always been about selling out venues with ease<br />

and playing world famous festivals. Getting to that stage took<br />

time. “We reached the age, probably around 20 or 21 where<br />

you start thinking about what you want to do,” says Fran. “We<br />

just thought, let’s give this a go, [as] we enjoyed this more than<br />

20


“We did something<br />

and meant<br />

something to<br />

the city”<br />

anything else. It made it a lot easier that we were in it together,”<br />

he reflects, as I ask if there were ever any points where their<br />

belief was called on most.<br />

“I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that, when you just<br />

have a night out together or go and play footy or go round to<br />

each other’s houses, it just rejuvenates you. It was like, ‘Are you<br />

enjoying it?’ ‘Yeh, I’m still enjoying it!’ ‘Let’s just carry on then<br />

and see what happens’. There were plenty of those moments.<br />

Sometimes you still get those days.”<br />

However, with the low points come the highs and these<br />

moments make all the hard work worth it. “There’ve been a few<br />

from an internal point of view,” Fran explains. “It was probably<br />

signing the record deal. We were confident in the songs and<br />

we knew that there was someone out there that would listen to<br />

them. If it all comes to nothing at least we can say we were a<br />

band that signed a record deal and put some albums out.”<br />

He continues: “From an external point of view, I think people<br />

started taking us more seriously when we started going on tour<br />

and selling out shows in Liverpool, London and Glasgow, as well<br />

as shows at festivals like Glastonbury.”<br />

The chance to play for the Worthy Farm crowd clearly stands<br />

out. “When people talk about the buzz you get when you come<br />

off stage, I felt exactly like that at Glastonbury. We had so long<br />

to build it up in our own heads. While we were on stage I was<br />

like, ‘This is Glastonbury! This is Glastonbury!’, but then when we<br />

came off stage it was like, ‘We did well there, didn’t we? We’ve<br />

just done Glastonbury!’ It really was a pinch me moment at the<br />

time, but afterwards it was a chin up-chest out moment.” I saw<br />

their Glastonbury performance and can confirm, yes, it was a hell<br />

of a show.<br />

There are still elements of those early rock ’n’ roll days, but<br />

now it’s all about the live performance. If you’re still to sample a<br />

Red Rum Club show, I’d highly recommend making it one of the<br />

first you go to when live music returns. Their festival vibe, highenergy<br />

performances are a true antidote, a shot of escapism.<br />

From start to finish Fran holds the audience in the palm of his<br />

hand, at the beck and call of their songs’ anthemic nature. From<br />

the experimental and more personal tones of Matador to the<br />

mature and self-assured, festival-pleasing tracks on The Hollow<br />

Of Humdrum, the lads have all the attributes worthy of the<br />

biggest stages.<br />

“We didn’t want to restrict ourselves on Matador,” says Fran,<br />

“we were just six lads in a band and we recorded it like that. For<br />

the second, we were very experimental because we didn’t want<br />

to be one thing live and be another thing on the record.” So much<br />

of their recording seems to clutch for the fevered energy of the<br />

live shows. “As our live sound grew and we became a pretty<br />

seasoned touring band playing some big stages, we walked<br />

into the studio for The Hollow Of Humdrum knowing we were<br />

worthy to be on these big stages at Glastonbury or the Isle Of<br />

Wight Festival. We had that idea in our heads and were like,<br />

‘Right, let’s make a big sound, big songs and not be hesitant to<br />

become more than just six lads in a band’.”<br />

With tracks such as The Elevation, a love song for the<br />

blue tick generation longing for a reply on WhatsApp, Vivo,<br />

a discussion about being working class Northern lads, and<br />

Ballerino, a Billy Elliot-esque social commentary of toxic<br />

masculinity, the new tracks owe themselves to a more mature<br />

way of thinking. But they don’t fail to bring the party.<br />

Speaking of parties, there is no doubt their headlining slot at<br />

Liverpool Sound City in May 2021 is going to be just that as they<br />

close the festival on the Sunday night. “I can’t stop looking at the<br />

top of the poster,” Fran exclaims, “naturally I always go to the<br />

small print at the bottom.” It’s clearly a proud moment for a band<br />

that will have spent many years on the other side of the stage<br />

at the festival. “There’s milestones from a musician’s point of<br />

view and I think, by headlining Liverpool Sound City, we can say<br />

we weren’t just a flash in the pan, we did something and meant<br />

something to the city.”<br />

Fran is incredibly humble when we get onto the subject of<br />

the band’s current popularity at home, noting how their fans are<br />

more like a community, or a ‘club’. “Liverpool is such a tight knit<br />

city, when people come up to me and say they love our stuff<br />

it feels like we’re mates then,” he explains. “That person who<br />

listens, buys the album, who stops me in the street, they’ve got<br />

just as much say in what Red Rum Club is and where we go.”<br />

Where they do go from here is the big question. Having achieved<br />

so much over the years, anything seems possible at the moment.<br />

“The blinkers are off,” Fran replies. “We feel like this is a<br />

career now. Rather than think about tomorrow, or the next single,<br />

we can think about the next two years and the next four tours.”<br />

With single Eleanor being picked up by BBC Radio 2, a UK tour<br />

starting in February (we hope), their second album bearing down<br />

on the top 40 and a headlining slot at a hometown festival, Red<br />

Rum Club have proven they are anything but humdrum. !<br />

Words: Sophie Shields<br />

Illustration: Nicholas Daly / @nickdalyart<br />

@RedRumClub<br />

The Hollow Of Humdrum is available now via Modern Sky.<br />

FEATURE<br />

21


PAST<br />

PRESENT<br />

FUTURE<br />

22


On Record – Untold & Retold festival takes over the Philharmonic Hall in October for a live streamed<br />

showcase highlighting the continuing black contribution to Liverpool music and culture. Two of the most<br />

successful groups the city has produced, The Real Thing and MiC LOWRY, will both perform on the night.<br />

Ahead of the showcase, Richard Lewis sits down with Chris Amoo and Ben Sharples to talk about the past,<br />

present and future of black representation in Liverpool’s musical landscape.<br />

Subject of the highly acclaimed documentary<br />

Everything that recently aired on BBC Four, Liverpool<br />

soul legends THE REAL THING are finally getting the<br />

recognition they’re long overdue. Their classic era<br />

line-up of Chris and Eddie Amoo, Dave Smith and Ray Lake –<br />

with the exception of post-Beatles solo projects – were the city’s<br />

sole flag bearers on the singles and albums chart throughout the<br />

1970s. You To Me Are Everything, which has sold upwards of<br />

half a million copies in the UK alone, has been a radio staple ever<br />

since. The follow up Can’t Get By Without You landed at number<br />

two the same year and Can You Feel<br />

The Force? secured a silver disc in<br />

1979.<br />

Wrapped in a sleeve that<br />

features the group stood on Upper<br />

Stanhope Street backed by a<br />

montage of their home suburb, 4<br />

From 8 has been compared by critics<br />

to Marvin Gaye’s landmark 1971<br />

LP What’s Goin’ On. Its centrepiece<br />

Liverpool 8 Medley features the<br />

stunning Children Of The Ghetto,<br />

covered by luminaries such as Mary J.<br />

Blige, Earth, Wind And Fire alumnus<br />

Philip Bailey and UK jazz legend<br />

Courtney Pine, along with being<br />

sampled a score of times over the<br />

past decade.<br />

Fast forward a few decades and vocal harmony group<br />

MiC LOWRY occupy a similar space. Formed by schoolfriends<br />

Delleile Ankrah, Kaine Ofoeme, Michael Welch and Ben Sharples<br />

in 2011, the band have become a flagship group for black<br />

Liverpool music in much the same way. Their biggest show to<br />

date saw them supporting US pop stalwarts Backstreet Boys at<br />

Manchester Arena last summer, while their most recent Liverpool<br />

gig last <strong>November</strong> saw a queue winding round outside of Arts<br />

Club several hours before showtime.<br />

With the two bands appearing at On Record – Untold &<br />

Retold festival in October, we arranged a chat between Real<br />

Thing lead vocalist Chris Amoo and MiC LOWRY’s Ben Sharples<br />

to compare notes on the experience for the past, present and<br />

future black musicians in Liverpool and the UK at large today.<br />

“The main place we used to rehearse was in my living room,<br />

basically all our equipment was a record player and a piano,”<br />

Chris says of The Real Thing’s earliest manoeuvres. “We used<br />

to put the records on and sing over them, that’s how we learnt<br />

harmonies. For a whole year after work, every single evening<br />

we’d practice and go through our parts. If you weren’t there<br />

and you didn’t show up, you got fined! There were not dreams<br />

of record deals, we just wanted to get onstage and perform. As<br />

things progressed, we rehearsed at a youth club, Stanley House.”<br />

The social club and community centre on Upper Parliament<br />

Street was one of a score of L8 clubs dotted around Parliament<br />

Street and Princes Avenue in the 1960s and 70s. “We lined<br />

brushes up in the room and pretend they were microphones<br />

and we were onstage,” recalls Chris. “It was difficult to get<br />

places to rehearse, we needed that much cos we didn’t have<br />

instruments. As we started to move on, if Stanley House held a<br />

ball they would allow you to bring musicians in. That was in L8,<br />

everything was L8, we didn’t go out of it,” Chris emphasises.<br />

The community aspect of a social hub has strong echoes<br />

decades later. Growing out of community choir Positive Impact<br />

founded by future band manager Barbara Philips, MiC LOWRY<br />

also began their journey in Toxteth. “There are so many<br />

similarities there,” Ben nods. “Barbara used to run Positive<br />

Impact at the Methodist Centre, also down in Toxteth. And if you<br />

were young and wanted to get into music, dance or drama, that<br />

was the place to go. It was brilliant singing in there, sonically, cos<br />

of the room reverb.”<br />

“Can you see the pattern between the two generations?”<br />

Chris smiles. “It’s basically the same. We started singing<br />

together when we were at school, we rehearsed in the Methodist<br />

Church as well.”<br />

“I think people like the fact that we grew up together,” Ben<br />

states. “When we were coming up there were a lot of these big<br />

X Factor bands, [so] I think, like, we seemed a bit more real and<br />

authentic.”<br />

Chris’ late brother, Eddie, eight years his senior, was a member<br />

of ground-breaking a cappella group The Chants in the 1960s, who<br />

backed The Beatles at several dates. The Real Thing benefited from<br />

Eddie’s industry experience with The Chants; similarly, MiC LOWRY<br />

were mentored by fellow Scouser Esco Williams.<br />

“Esco used to run a vocal workshop which was open to<br />

everyone, it was free to go along,” Ben recalls. “He brought a lot<br />

“I can see things<br />

bubbling in<br />

Liverpool… I’m<br />

feeling confident<br />

about it in the<br />

next five years”<br />

of industry experience. He was a big influence musically as well<br />

as helping us move up the ladder.”<br />

“Initially when we started off, due to Barbara’s connections,<br />

if an event needed music, she’d make sure we got on the bill,”<br />

Ben adds. “One of the first gigs was at the Brouhaha Festival<br />

in Princes Park. After a few years we started to do school tours<br />

which was great, you’d head up and down the country. That was<br />

the first time we’d done an actual tour with consistent dates.<br />

That was a big help that experience.”<br />

Winding back several decades, The Real Thing began<br />

to make inroads into the city’s<br />

clubs. “When we got an agent we<br />

started playing outside of Toxteth<br />

in places like the Mardi Gras on<br />

Mount Pleasant, which was run by<br />

[former BBC Radio Merseyside DJ]<br />

Billy Butler. That was the only club<br />

in Liverpool back then where all the<br />

American soul acts would play. To<br />

get in there was amazing.”<br />

An avenue that many musicians<br />

based outside the capital consider at<br />

some point is whether to move down<br />

to London, the allure of being in the<br />

Big Smoke the same now as it was<br />

in the 1970s.<br />

“When we started speaking,<br />

not many people expected a Scouse<br />

accent. A lot of people tend to think we’re American, and if we’re<br />

British they assume from London,” Ben explains. “There’s always<br />

the question of moving down there, like, when people get to a<br />

certain level that’s the done thing. We battled that for a little<br />

while and it’s in the back of your mind whether it’s something<br />

you should do. When we were coming up, the scene in Liverpool<br />

back then was indie, guitar-based bands. When we were trying<br />

to get on bills, there wasn’t really the appetite or the audience<br />

for it. When we started to build a foundation and grow, we<br />

could put on bigger shows in London than Liverpool, which was<br />

strange for us.<br />

“Liverpool’s a small place and everyone kinda knows<br />

each other. We’d go to London and we’d be a new thing,<br />

whereas we’d play Liverpool and it’d be like, ‘Oh, yeh, I went to<br />

Calderstones with one of those guys’. There’s not the same kind<br />

of excitement cos people think they know you.”<br />

“Basically it’s just as Ben said, he’s taken the words out of<br />

my mouth,” Chris, who still has strong connections to L8, states.<br />

“The difference is, when we came up there wasn’t anybody else<br />

apart from Eddie’s band The Chants. People certainly thought<br />

we were from America, we still get that even now, occasionally.<br />

London was the hub, that’s where our management was. If<br />

we wanted to do anything, it meant getting down to London,<br />

whether it was Top Of The Pops, Radio One. I know that I<br />

could’ve done a lot more collaborations with a lot more artists<br />

had I been living in London. When you’re not living down there<br />

you’re sort of off the radar, it’s a scene going on down there.<br />

“I’ve never wanted to move to London, none of us did,” Chris<br />

concedes. “Our manager advised us on many occasions to move<br />

down. We never wanted to. Liverpool’s our home. Even if it’s the<br />

case, like Ben says, of ‘Oh, they’re the guys from down the road’.<br />

When you make it, it’s even stronger. It’s a case of [proudly],<br />

‘They’re the guys from our city!’”<br />

A huge question to tackle, but do you feel that black music<br />

from Liverpool now gets the recognition and kudos it deserves?<br />

“No,” Chris says, sadly. “Same answer,” Ben adds. “As Chris<br />

was saying, there are people even now who don’t know The Real<br />

Thing are Scousers. As soon as you say you’re from Liverpool,<br />

people say it’s got such as great history and music heritage,<br />

but not a lot of it is dedicated to black music. It’s strange when<br />

you’ve got The Chants, The Real Thing, The Christians, there<br />

are so many amazing artists and groups who’ve come out of<br />

Liverpool”.<br />

“It’s not really renowned for soul music, really never has<br />

been,” Chris ruminates. “Liverpool’s more of a rock-oriented<br />

city, musically. There aren’t a lot of openings for black music in<br />

Liverpool itself. Which isn’t to say there aren’t any and you can’t<br />

do it, cos you can. But it’s a lot more difficult.”<br />

“I have a feeling that there will be some kind of breakthrough<br />

in the next five to 10 years,” Ben opines. “I think, when you look<br />

at – and I hate this term – ‘urban music’ is always associated<br />

with London. But if you look in the last five years or so, it’s<br />

stretched out to Birmingham and Manchester. You see a lot of<br />

black artists from those cities absolutely smashing it now. That<br />

wasn’t the case before. If you said you were from Manchester,<br />

everyone would associate you with an indie band. The scene’s<br />

developed more. I can see things bubbling in Liverpool where<br />

there might be a moment for that soon. I’m feeling confident<br />

about it in the next five years, definitely. There’s Culture Deck in<br />

Liverpool now. Their event at 24 Kitchen Street sold out, which<br />

is amazing. Five years ago I couldn’t picture that.” Culture Deck<br />

is one of a handful of emerging media collectives that give a<br />

platform for emerging rap, hip hop, grime and RnB acts in the<br />

city.<br />

“It was only when we got a manger like Tony Hall, who was<br />

probably one of the most respected people in black music at<br />

that time,” adds Chris, “that we noticed a change in reception.<br />

Hall had handled Jimi Hendrix’s UK promotion in the late 1960s.<br />

Because of the respect he had, DJ and industry people started to<br />

judge us on our own level, they started giving us a chance.”<br />

“There was only Radio One – if you didn’t get on that station<br />

you didn’t have a hit record,” he adds. “They had to cater to<br />

everyone, there were only so many soul records played per<br />

show. If The O’Jays, Stevie Wonder and The Stylistics had a<br />

record out the same week, they’re gonna get priority. It was<br />

the same thing with Top Of The Pops, they’re not gonna have a<br />

show dominated by black music, they’d have Abba, Slade and<br />

Paul McCartney on. That was what we had to come up against<br />

and we did it thankfully cos we had a great manager. We had a<br />

bit of talent as well…”<br />

“It’s a weird one with radio,” Ben replies. “When we first got<br />

signed we had a record out which was quite poppy, it wasn’t<br />

one of our more soulful ones. We took it to radio and there was<br />

the thing of, you need to go through urban radio in the States<br />

first, before you get to the pop one. Even though it’s the same<br />

track, the same record. Sometimes it can be frustrating when<br />

black artists can get limited to certain stations which wouldn’t<br />

have the same reach. These days, though, I don’t think radio is as<br />

important cos you’ve got all the streaming platforms, which gives<br />

people the power. Like Chris was saying about playlist meetings<br />

where a group of people make a decision over what gets heard,<br />

with Spotify people have the power, cos if our song’s out there<br />

and people are listening to it, they’ll look at the algorithms and<br />

go, ‘People like this, let’s put it on that playlist’. It becomes less<br />

about someone’s personal decision and more about what people<br />

like listening to, so that’s a big help.”<br />

“You can put music out there yourself now, you’re not relying<br />

on anyone else. If you’ve got something you believe in, you can<br />

get it out there and get in touch with people,” Chris nods.<br />

Throughout the conversation, there are distinct notes of<br />

progress over the 40 years that separated the two group’s<br />

careers – before continuing on in tandem. But what’s more telling<br />

are the systemic limitations and perceptions that have remained,<br />

both in Liverpool and across the UK. It shows we’re far from an<br />

end goal where artistry can speak for itself, free from prejudice.<br />

However, there’s a sense the tide is changing again for the<br />

better, as we begin to round off the conversation. Similar to<br />

Ben’s point about London becoming decentralised, the music<br />

of Liverpool’s black artists is no longer restricted to L8 or token<br />

support slots, with more and more artists applying their craft at<br />

the top of the bill on stages in the Baltic Triangle and city centre.<br />

Though it must be stressed there is further this inclusiveness and<br />

representation can go, with guitar music still the dominant offer.<br />

Equally, in tandem as technology has improved, the nature of<br />

industry gatekeepers has changed, with power less concentrated<br />

in the hands of a select few nowadays. As Ben notes, popularity<br />

can speak for itself and artists have a stronger level of control in<br />

writing their own futures.<br />

As we conclude the conversation, we return to the recent<br />

documentary, Everything. A scene sees Chris explain how he<br />

has altered the lyric from Children Of The Ghetto when singing<br />

live. From: “There’s no inspiration / To brighten up their day” to<br />

“There’s some inspiration”.<br />

Put simply then, do you feel the situation has improved since<br />

the release of 4 From 8 in 1977? “On a worldwide level, there’s<br />

a lot of inspiration around now for aspiring black artists,” Chris<br />

states emphatically. “The world’s your oyster.” !<br />

Words: Richard Lewis<br />

Photography: Callum Mills (MiC LOWRY) / Courtesy of The Real<br />

Thing<br />

therealthingofficial.com<br />

@miclowry<br />

The Real Thing and MiC LOWRY will appear at the On Record –<br />

Untold & Retold showcase live streamed from the Philharmonic<br />

Hall on 23rd October. limfestival.com/onrecord<br />

FEATURE<br />

23


CHAMPION ONE,<br />

A new exhibition part of On Record – Untold & Retold will celebrate key figures of black music in Liverpool and<br />

their contribution to the foundations of the city’s culture. Curated and photographed by Anthony Wilde, the<br />

exhibition is characterised by the photographer’s deftness for capturing moments of change and transition.<br />

Before ANTHONY WILDE started taking photographs<br />

four years ago, he knew there was a particular depth<br />

to his vision. On an old iPhone 4, he recalls reams of<br />

incidental photos scattered throughout the timeline of<br />

the camera role. An unassuming collection to the untrained eye.<br />

But to his own, the photos revealed themselves as a delicate<br />

jigsaw of messages and moments waiting to be connected.<br />

“I’ve always been looking for something that stood out,<br />

something extraordinary,” he says over the phone, thinking back<br />

to the years before a lens became permanently attached to his hip.<br />

“I found something extraordinary in the simplicity [of the photos].<br />

It could be in anything. I always had a way of looking at things<br />

different, [so] I always wanted to document, see if there was<br />

anything in the moment at all.”<br />

Once a camera was in hand it became an entirely new way<br />

of seeing. The camera added an unrushed aspect to his process,<br />

with new levels of intricacy and momentary energy – equally,<br />

an added influence to share his art. “I’m always developing and<br />

learning when I pick up the camera, studying the frame. It reveals<br />

what happens in a moment,” he replies slowly, considering the<br />

magnitude of the subjects and scenes he’s trained his camera on<br />

over the last four years. “Not always great or beautiful, but always<br />

something worth saying,” he rounds off in an effortlessly profound<br />

manner.<br />

It’s these ‘moments’ which Anthony notes – the ability to<br />

extract a pristine singular freeze-frame from a life continuously<br />

on fast-forward – that have typified his work as a photographer.<br />

A process that converts the camera into a microscope, the finite<br />

details of society gently lit under its backlight. It is a consideration<br />

and precision echoed in the creation of his Evolving + Nostalgia<br />

zines.<br />

Over three issues, the zines have drawn a focus on creative<br />

development and emerging voices in a “new generational attitude<br />

to change”. The third issue was released back in August and<br />

focused on the summer’s Black Lives Matter protests and the<br />

personal, unique stories of those taking a stand.<br />

“Every zine I’ve produced is<br />

never what I intended it to be at<br />

the beginning. Over the period of<br />

me making it, it shifts, evolves and<br />

changes,” he says of his usual process<br />

of planning and beginning to document.<br />

“Within in a few days of me starting the<br />

third one, things shifted completely.”<br />

Following the murder of George<br />

Floyd in May, a wave of worldwide<br />

protest barrelled into the streets of<br />

Liverpool. At St George’s Hall, where<br />

Anthony spoke at the first of two<br />

protests, the atmosphere was charged<br />

and committed. Rightly so for city with<br />

a strong colonial history and systemic<br />

racial tensions stemming from the 1980s, of which embers are<br />

still yet to go out. “We were in the midst of a storm,” comments<br />

Anthony, “you can sense the impact of everything that’s<br />

happening, but you can’t let that grasp a hold of you because<br />

it will influence how you document a particular moment.” With<br />

the camera in hand he’s committed to playing the narrator rather<br />

“If it wasn’t for<br />

these people, the<br />

community wouldn’t<br />

be as rich as what<br />

it is today”<br />

than director or composer. It’s this careful separation that gives<br />

breathing room to his subjects and stories.<br />

The resulting zine confronts the defining narratives of the<br />

protests, but it translates the deeply personal experiences<br />

of each subject. The responses documented in the work are<br />

far from homogenised, or as simple as black or white. “Every<br />

individual had vastly different experience,” replies Anthony.<br />

“You can put it under the same<br />

umbrella – racism, colonialism,<br />

oppression, marginalisation within<br />

our communities – but each person<br />

is vastly different in their experience.<br />

I was learning from a whole array of<br />

different people through the whole<br />

process of putting it together. I still<br />

am.”<br />

Alongside his original<br />

photography, the zines have<br />

been characterised by Anthony’s<br />

unwavering prose. It’s a symbiosis that<br />

is staunchly compelling. The words<br />

and images seem to combine in a way<br />

as if to finish one another’s sentence<br />

on the page. Similar to the photography, it’s an attribute that’s<br />

revealed through considered process. “I enjoy writing, but it just<br />

happens [when writing captions] for the photos. It’s not a case<br />

of, ‘I’ve taken a photograph, I must write something about it’. It<br />

might sit with me for a few months and eventually I’ll interpret<br />

it in the way I see, the way it makes me feel,” he says. “It’s just<br />

24


CHAMPION ALL<br />

as important as the image. They’ll work with one another for<br />

whoever is viewing it.”<br />

Cliché suggests a picture paints a thousand words, but<br />

to Anthony the added context means the message “cuts a lot<br />

deeper”, with “more gravity”. “They’re both ingredients to what<br />

I’m creating,” he continues. However, there’s never a knee-jerk<br />

response to draw out conclusions. “I need to let the image sit with<br />

me, also the text. Then, I don’t know when, or how, it’ll come to<br />

me. I’ll make sense of it. The whole process is making sense of<br />

what I’ve taken.” It’s a process as organic as the subtle frames<br />

of existence pulled into view by his camera. “You need to let the<br />

photograph sit,” he adds, “then when you look through it again,<br />

I see minor details that turn the photo on its head and change<br />

the message.”<br />

Next month, Anthony’s work will become more familiar to<br />

Liverpool’s consciousness through the Champion One, Champion<br />

All! exhibition which will feature as part of On Record – Untold<br />

& Retold festival. Similar to his process of mining the density<br />

in passing moments of change, the exhibition will display 31<br />

portraits celebrating key figures of black music in Liverpool and<br />

the contemporary scene – two strands which form an integral<br />

foundation of Liverpool’s past, present and future cultural landscape.<br />

“It’s celebrating people, people in our community,” he says,<br />

“and if it wasn’t for these people, the community wouldn’t be as<br />

rich as what it is today.”<br />

The exhibition, to be housed at Museum Of Liverpool, takes<br />

in musicians, artists, promoters, venue owners and community<br />

facilitators. The diversity of those featured aims to challenge<br />

the homogenised view of black music – too often an expansive<br />

grouping that denies the individual merit of its intricacies. Equally,<br />

one that speaks for the music in a way that is not reflected in the<br />

myriad of genres that reside outside of the banner of ‘white music’.<br />

In Liverpool alone, it’s a perception that still needs breaking down.<br />

“We’re all so unique and delicate. It’s [about] being able to be<br />

the individual, be the person you are without all of the attachments<br />

and the bias,” says Anthony. “Trying to categorise, trying to<br />

categorise a people. This exhibition will disperse that way of<br />

thinking. When you see the images in the exhibition and you hear<br />

from the people and what it is that they’re doing, you’ll see how<br />

each individual has made a tremendous contribution.”<br />

In Anthony’s own distinct way, the photos extract 31<br />

moments still in motion, from those who’ve set the foundations,<br />

to those who’ve built the city’s future on top. “Black music is the<br />

most inclusive genre. It’s inclusive of all melodies. It’s within our<br />

culture. It’s within British culture,” he concludes. “It isn’t a colour,<br />

it’s culture. It’s more important than ever to put on an exhibition<br />

that is highlighting that.” !<br />

Words: Elliot Ryder<br />

Photography: Anthony Wilde / @en.official_<br />

Photos from left to right: Kof, Mia Thornton and Rachel Duncan<br />

- Go Off, Sis!, Ioan Roberts and Saad Shaffi - 24 Kitchen Street,<br />

Kadeem France - Loathe, Koj, Pelumi, Jennifer John.<br />

limfestival.com/onrecord<br />

Champion One, Champion All! runs at Museum Of Liverpool from<br />

9th to 23rd <strong>November</strong>.<br />

The sound of this city isn’t defined by one aspect<br />

of colour or ethnicity. However, we listen and<br />

savour the tones that have contributed to the<br />

steeple that has helped engrave an essence in our<br />

city’s identity, partnered by those of black heritage<br />

and surrounding.<br />

Liverpool breaks tradition and follows only the<br />

determined; the determined to understand, the<br />

determined to create, the purposeful will be<br />

spirited. Music and sounds hand us as people that<br />

first ripple in what can be our ocean if we choose<br />

to see what has yet been unrecognised. New<br />

creators in music are emerging everyday within<br />

Liverpool, ethnically together; communicating<br />

a dialogue that encourages and unify traditions<br />

while emerging sounds make way for the path<br />

we are now on. This collection of individuals here<br />

inside The Museum Of Liverpool display a sense of<br />

feeling, the city has been missing.<br />

This is no doubt a celebration of what we have<br />

created and contributed to the centre of where<br />

black music has as rich a space as anywhere in the<br />

world.<br />

Champion one, champion all.<br />

Anthony Wilde<br />

FEATURE<br />

25


SPOTLIGHT<br />

“Protest anything<br />

that tries to<br />

undermine the<br />

importance of<br />

creativity”<br />

EVE HOWLETT<br />

The Queen Of Heartbreak opens<br />

up about her colourful artistry,<br />

charity shop gowns and silly sense<br />

of humour.<br />

What began as a means to make back the money lost from a<br />

withdrawn university scholarship for EVE HOWLETT (the result<br />

of a streaking session in her first year of studies) has now fully<br />

bloomed into a career as a life model, poet, wardrobe designer<br />

and performer.<br />

As a member of The Secret Circus, Eve performed at an Alice<br />

In Wonderland themed event as an anti-love poet. And so, The<br />

Queen Of Heartbreak was born. She is charming, quick-witted<br />

and just a little daft. “Pardon my alliteration,” she laughs, “but<br />

my performance poetry is piled high with puns and punchlines –<br />

period.”<br />

Combining all of her creative endeavours, Howlett is a unique<br />

and fabulous artist emerging in Liverpool. “I would describe<br />

myself as an over-the-top colourful creative,” she says, “who has<br />

fingers in far too many pies and a wig collection so big, they’re<br />

arguing over who gets teased the most.” Her style, inspired by<br />

her parents’ fancy dress shop and whatever “diamond bargains”<br />

she can find at a car boot sale, is consistently quirky, bold and<br />

joyful. Performing at events such as Eat Me + Preach and A<br />

Lovely Word, Howlett showcases her fantastic handmade<br />

wardrobe with heels and eyelashes that could make RuPaul gag<br />

Howlett’s poetry is packed with hilarity and a jovial need<br />

to enjoy life. “I usually find some small spark,” she explains, “a<br />

fleeting funny moment, like a pigeon flying into my room or<br />

something, and I blurt out a poem. Or, I’ll take something that<br />

pisses me off and turn it something comedic to take the power<br />

away from it. I’ve always looked for the joke in everything, to<br />

make myself laugh even if no one else is.”<br />

At a time where we could all use a few more laughs, Howlett<br />

is coming into the spotlight with an ability to not be consumed<br />

by the anxiety pressing down on all of us. Reflecting on these<br />

uncertain times Howlett shares: “Years of financial anxiety<br />

prepared me for the pandemic.” She further explains: “Being<br />

self-employed and freelance since university, I think I’d got used<br />

to having to be adaptable when you don’t know where the next<br />

pay check is coming from.” Although naturally an unsettling time,<br />

Howlett acknowledges some positives taken from lockdown.<br />

“Having a lot of time on my hands suddenly did give me the time<br />

and space to develop The Queen Of Heartbreak as opposed to<br />

doing a half-arsed, last-minute version of my original vision like I<br />

had done in the past. Being able to connect with people around<br />

the world and perform for events I would never be able to is a<br />

massive silver lining.”<br />

Her artistic career so far is packed with wild and wonderful<br />

adventures, with her experiences as a life model sparking a lot<br />

of joy and laughter for both Howlett and her fellow artists. “I’ve<br />

been talked into all kinds of mad stuff,” she reflects playfully,<br />

“like walking around in nothing but wellies filled with ink and<br />

water, pose on a trapeze, dance to YMCA and pretend to cook<br />

cardboard carrots in a cardboard pan.” As silly and wacky<br />

as these experiences have been, life modelling has been an<br />

enriching time for Howlett over the years. “After spending hours<br />

on end with nothing but yourself for company you have no choice<br />

but to experience every thought and feeling and, literally, sit with<br />

it,” she explains. “These are usually the times that I have time to<br />

think about creative ideas, write poems and think about what<br />

costume I’m going to wear next.”<br />

Howlett has no intention of slowing down with plans of<br />

releasing her own poetry book and a Queen Of Heartbreak<br />

vajazzle collection. With a resolute ambition to constantly do<br />

things her way, Howlett is sure to continue on her path as an<br />

original, authentic artist. “The way I write my poems, the way I do<br />

my make-up, the outfits I put together, it’s rarely by consciously<br />

following influences,” she explains. “I’ve always been someone<br />

who just does whatever they feel is right.” Inspired by herself,<br />

Howlett is an ambassador for people speaking their own truth.<br />

“I’m not sure I ever grew out of doing everything my own way,”<br />

she says, and we hope she never does.<br />

During a time of uncertainty where the worth of the arts has<br />

been called into question, Howlett reminds us that we are not as<br />

fragile as we may sometimes feel. “If you feel you have a bit to<br />

give, share the work of other artists, buy from independents and<br />

creatives, see if you can skill swap, see if you can collaborate,”<br />

she says. “And protest anything that tries to undermine the<br />

importance of creativity.” Howlett reminds us that we are not<br />

alone, we are valued and we matter. Our worth does not lie in<br />

the opinion of others and our validation comes only from within<br />

ourselves. She continues to encourage us to trust what our gut is<br />

urging us to do, and to smile while we are doing it. !<br />

Words: Mary Olive / @maryolivepoet<br />

Photography: Mark Lycett<br />

@thequeenofheartbreak<br />

Eve Howlett’s work will be displayed at 92 Degrees Coffee as<br />

part of Liverpool Nude 2 exhibition. Now extended until 31st<br />

October.<br />

26


STONE<br />

Fin Power wades in on the postpunk<br />

band’s relentless drive to<br />

share their message at full volume.<br />

“I wanted people to<br />

listen to everything<br />

I said and feel<br />

exactly what I am<br />

going through”<br />

If you had to describe your music in a sentence, what would<br />

you say?<br />

Knowledge, anger and tales of drunken mishaps straight from the<br />

bottom of the bottle.<br />

How did you get into music?<br />

For me it was watching videos of David Bowie as a kid and<br />

knowing there and then that it was what I wanted to do. I would<br />

just think in my childhood brain, ‘I wanna do that’. When I was<br />

younger, I drew a lot and wrote comics. This all then led to<br />

turning 15 and starting The Bohos. Suppose, looking back, we<br />

may as well have been an Oasis cover band.<br />

Can you pinpoint a live gig or a piece of music that initially<br />

inspired you?<br />

Leave It Out is when I realised why I loved to write. I realised that<br />

I wanted my message to be heard. I wanted people to listen to<br />

everything I said and feel exactly what I am going through.<br />

Do you have a favourite song or piece of music to perform?<br />

What does it say about you?<br />

Again, Leave it Out. The track is a genuine wall of sound and<br />

it was the first track I wrote with a spoken word flow. It’s an<br />

authentic snapshot of what I was thinking and feeling at that<br />

point in my life.<br />

If you could support any artist in the future, who would it be?<br />

The band might disagree, but I would probably want to support<br />

an early 2000s powerhouse, like Arctic Monkeys or The Strokes.<br />

What do you think is the overriding influence on your<br />

songwriting: other art, emotions, current affairs – or a mixture<br />

of all of these?<br />

The band’s influence comes from a need to be heard. Music-wise,<br />

we are heavily inspired by old school hip hop and post-punk. We<br />

tend to blend aspects of both to create our own thing. Ideologywise<br />

I guess I’m inspired by the 21st Century, you know, social<br />

media and all that.<br />

Do you have a favourite venue you’ve performed in? If so, what<br />

makes it special?<br />

Me and the band love The Zanzibar, it’s a venue we have all<br />

come through and all owe a lot to. Playing the Zanzi was a rite<br />

of passage for any Liverpool band and we are truly sad to see it<br />

closing.<br />

Why is music important to you?<br />

I’m often asked, ‘Why are you in a band? Is it to play music or for<br />

people to hear my message?’ I think it must be a mixture, because<br />

I thrive off both. The band and I love to perform and that’s<br />

the main thing. A big thing for me is hearing everything come<br />

together and knowing that it’s 100 per cent doing our message<br />

justice.<br />

Photography: Broadie<br />

@stoneliverpool<br />

Stay Silent is available now.<br />

BEN BURKE<br />

The acoustic singer-songwriter underscores his creative<br />

inspiration and the importance of music and the arts.<br />

Have you always wanted to create music?<br />

I got into listening to different music from a young age, every<br />

Christmas and birthday I would ask my family to get me Pink<br />

Floyd and Beatles albums. I would spend my paper round money<br />

on CDs by artists like Bob Dylan and<br />

Neil Young. I started playing when I was<br />

around 10 or 11 years old after my dad<br />

got me guitar lessons.<br />

If you had to describe your style in a<br />

sentence, what would you say?<br />

My music is a melting pot of various<br />

styles and influences, including country,<br />

folk, blues, pop and reggae. I listen to<br />

different styles of music and like to keep<br />

it fresh for myself and for the listener.<br />

If you could support any artist in the<br />

future, who would it be?<br />

The Rolling Stones because they still put<br />

on a boss show and I’ve always wanted<br />

to be fly on the wall in their dressing room.<br />

“Music and arts are<br />

a crucial part of all<br />

our lives, crucial<br />

on a physical and<br />

emotional level”<br />

What do you think is the overriding influence on your<br />

songwriting: other art, emotions, current affairs – or a mixture<br />

of all of these?<br />

The songs can be influenced by anything, whether it be a certain<br />

emotion, a story, or conversations I’ve<br />

had. It can be dreams, nightmares or<br />

real-life affairs.<br />

Can you pinpoint a live gig or a piece of<br />

music that initially inspired you?<br />

I remember the first time I got one of<br />

them old MP3 players for Christmas, I<br />

uploaded Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix<br />

onto it and listened to it through<br />

headphones for the first time and it<br />

completely blew my head clean off!<br />

Do you have a favourite venue you’ve<br />

performed in?<br />

I loved playing in the Olympia last<br />

year as part of a BOSS Night. It is the<br />

second biggest venue in the city behind the arena, the building is<br />

amazing inside and there is so much history in there.<br />

Do you have a favourite song or piece of music to perform?<br />

What does it say about you?<br />

My latest single The Life I Left Behind it is pretty relevant to my<br />

life right now. It’s about moving on to better things and pushing<br />

through difficult times in general, whatever they may be. If I’m<br />

feeling down or negative, this song gives me hope, and I hope it<br />

can inspire others when they listen to it.<br />

Why is music important to you?<br />

Music isn’t just important to me, it is important to everyone. Even<br />

If you don’t know it, music and arts are a crucial part of all our<br />

lives, crucial on a physical and emotional level. To the numbercrunching<br />

Tory politicians trying to do away with the arts and<br />

music it is one of life’s great natural mediums accessible to<br />

everybody. I think it will be impossible to suppress.<br />

Photography: John Johnson / @John.Johno<br />

@music_burke<br />

The Life I Left Behind is out now via Nifty Records.<br />

SPOTLIGHT<br />

27


PREVIEWS<br />

“Transition was nothing<br />

less than alchemy. I<br />

am so blessed and<br />

privileged to have made<br />

peace with a body I<br />

once waged war with”<br />

FESTIVAL<br />

FOX FISHER<br />

Homotopia – 29/10-15/11<br />

Award-winning artist, filmmaker and campaigner discusses<br />

their artistry and upcoming residency at Homotopia festival.<br />

Homotopia’s arts and culture fest returns to Liverpool<br />

with a programme promising its unique blend of<br />

queer performance, visual art and new voices across<br />

the transgender spectrum. Celebrated annually since<br />

2004, the UK’s longest-running LGBTQIA arts and culture<br />

festival will this year invite award-winning filmmaker and trans<br />

rights campaigner, FOX FISHER, to be their artist in residence.<br />

Fisher will take part in a number of workshops, collaborative<br />

artwork events and a curated screening of My Genderation – a<br />

film project co-founded with Lewis Hancox celebrating the trans<br />

experience – followed by a discussion on trans life in the UK.<br />

Ahead of Fisher’s highly anticipated residency, we caught<br />

up with them to discuss the current transgender landscape,<br />

representation in the media and what they have planned for the<br />

16th arts and culture fest.<br />

You were invited to design the artwork for Brighton Pride 2020,<br />

an event which took place online for the first time in its history.<br />

How did its taking place online affect the event?<br />

As an awkward teen, my first ever Pride was Brighton Pride, so<br />

it meant so much to be asked to create the illustrations for this<br />

year’s event. I have to admit, I was disappointed to not see the<br />

illustrations put to use around the park, which is always so lively.<br />

It’s been a strange year for Pride. I was involved with so many<br />

online panels and events (including Brighton Pride) that I still<br />

managed to experience the annual Pride season burnout.<br />

For the past few months, the digital sphere has certainly<br />

become something of a refuge for those struggling<br />

with isolation. Has this greater dependency on global<br />

interconnectedness and the availability of social media<br />

transformed how trans people make sense of their identity?<br />

It certainly has. Although trans people have always existed, the<br />

internet is invaluable for trans people to recognise who we are.<br />

This is through creating profiles that match who we feel to be,<br />

and by having access to chatrooms on trans topics, and YouTube<br />

vlogs made by trans people sharing every part of the process of a<br />

social and medical transition. When I was starting my transition,<br />

and for many years before, I would feast off of trans vlogs that<br />

documented people’s medical transitions. I would particularly seek<br />

out those who were a bit similar to myself in stature, to see how I<br />

might look after taking testosterone for a while.<br />

Gaming also attracts a lot of trans people to create characters<br />

more fitting to who they are and recently we’ve been treated<br />

to the video game Tell Me Why, where one of the two main<br />

characters is a trans man.<br />

How have conversations and the greater transgender landscape<br />

changed since My Transsexual Summer back in 2011? Are we<br />

still waiting for language to keep up with conceptualisations of<br />

identity?<br />

When I came out as trans back in 2011, I knew I was coming<br />

out to a world that didn’t fully understand trans issues. A lot has<br />

happened since then and, while we’ve definitely moved forwards<br />

in terms of public understanding, we still have a long way to go.<br />

Many of us felt that 2015 was a tipping point for trans rights,<br />

with Laverne Cox on the front cover of Time magazine, but I don’t<br />

think it’s quite happened yet. In the past five years there has<br />

been a really harmful and visceral media campaign against trans<br />

people, with many of the current attacks focused on young trans<br />

people and their access to puberty blockers (which are life-saving<br />

and simply press pause on the wrong puberty) or trans people’s<br />

access to spaces and services that they need.<br />

We’ve also seen influential writers and figures speak out against<br />

trans rights and there is still a huge gap in people’s understanding<br />

of what it means to be trans and what we need to be safe in<br />

society. In recent years there have been more conversations about<br />

being non-binary, albeit sometimes at an absurd level, like when<br />

my partner and I were grilled for 15 minutes by Piers Morgan on<br />

live morning television.<br />

Seeing my comrade Munroe Bergdorf on the front cover of Time<br />

magazine this month ignites hope again.<br />

Your experiences on My Transsexual Summer inspired you to<br />

further explore and shed more light on the (often neglected)<br />

experiences of trans people. As you continue to grow and<br />

develop greater understanding about your own identity, has<br />

anything surprised you about yourself?<br />

I think the past years have definitely given me time to learn new<br />

things about myself and explore what it really means to be me.<br />

I first came out as trans at the same time I took part in the My<br />

Trans Summer series and C4 wasn’t ready for me to talk about<br />

being non-binary. In recent years, the conversation has opened<br />

up to what it is to be non-binary. Non-binary people have seen<br />

resistance and prejudice, even from within the trans community.<br />

I spent a long time trying to be someone I wasn’t, constantly<br />

trying to fit in and find some sort of peace. But coming out as<br />

trans has really given me that peace of mind and I’ve been able to<br />

really get to know myself and let everyone else get to know me.<br />

I guess my biggest surprise was that I’ve managed to achieve so<br />

much, to catch up for lost time, and that’s a direct result of being<br />

able to be myself.<br />

As an advisor to All About Trans, you help with representations<br />

of transgender people within the media. Could you tell us a little<br />

more about this role?<br />

All About Trans is a project run by the charity On Road Media,<br />

and it centres around creating a more positive portrayal for trans<br />

people in the media and beyond. Through my work with AAT I<br />

have been a part of many interactions, where we bring a group<br />

of trans people to meet a group of journalists (or staff) and spend<br />

the day together to learn more about trans issues in the media.<br />

We’ve visited most major platforms in the country, including The<br />

Guardian, [The S*n], The Daily Mail, BBC, daytime TV series, ITV<br />

and more. We’ve also been working with publishing companies<br />

like Hachette, so we reach a wide audience. What makes AAT<br />

so powerful is that we create an environment where journalists<br />

or staff can really connect to trans people on a human level and<br />

we can have honest, positive and constructive conversations,<br />

where they get a chance to learn from us. The impact has been<br />

huge and continues to be, including positive media stories, more<br />

accurate storylines on major TV series and a lot of connectivity<br />

and education from behind the scenes.<br />

The value of truth as the bedrock of civic society is currently<br />

being undermined and devalued across the world. For you, what<br />

does the next few years look like in terms of combatting fake<br />

news to ensure the experiences and validity of transgender<br />

people are heard in the media, social media, etc?<br />

I think one of the biggest dangers of fake news is that it is often<br />

used to incite hatred against minorities to divert away from<br />

real issues where our rights and liberty are being taken away.<br />

I think one of the biggest ways to combat that is to elevate trans<br />

people to tell their own stories, as most people learn about trans<br />

people from people who aren’t trans. This leaves a lot of room for<br />

disinformation to be spread and for people to get it wrong.<br />

This is why it’s so important for trans people to be ‘in the room’<br />

for content creation and relaying information. We need to see<br />

more trans people as news presenters, as directors, writers and<br />

producers, and in visible positions. We need people to understand<br />

that trans people are people you meet in real life, and we aren’t<br />

just an isolated group of people that doesn’t partake in society.<br />

We are your colleagues, your children’s teachers, your social<br />

workers, your NHS staff, your friends, your family.<br />

People need to be able to think for themselves a bit more and be<br />

critical of the information they are receiving online. I think a huge<br />

amount of work needs to be put into combatting this with real<br />

stories of real people.<br />

We’re looking forward to you being artist in residence at this<br />

year’s Homotopia, the theme of which is Show Your Working.<br />

What were your immediate thoughts on this theme and how<br />

did you go about designing your elements of the programme?<br />

As you can imagine, the theme for Homotopia changed and<br />

evolved as this unusual year progressed. I think Show Your<br />

Working is apt because activism can show someone’s stance on a<br />

topic but there needs to be an action point or initiative. Otherwise<br />

it risks being seen as slacktivism.<br />

We need people to be visible in their support. We’re essentially<br />

asking people to show their receipts, by asking what people are<br />

actually doing to help people who are being discriminated against<br />

or targeted because of their gender identity, gender expression<br />

or sexuality. Now is the time to speak up because simply being<br />

passive or quiet about it is negligent and potentially damaging.<br />

This idea of not claiming to know the answer but showing you<br />

have a plan is intriguing. Your voice and identity shines through<br />

your screen printing; how can ideas of gender and art work<br />

together to create a shared commonality among those who<br />

feel at the fringes of the UK’s creative culture?<br />

For me, transition was nothing less than alchemy. I am so<br />

blessed and privileged to have made peace with a body I once<br />

waged war with. My art is a reflection of that, where I am able<br />

to express what it is to be a human being with a variety of<br />

intersections, particularly being brown, queer, trans masculine<br />

and non-binary.<br />

I think art is one of the most powerful tools we have, and it can<br />

pave change and raise awareness of different issues, whether<br />

that’s art that is directly political and challenging, or even if it’s<br />

art pieces created by someone who has a voice. Art can really<br />

connect people from such different backgrounds, and I am<br />

always really excited to see people turn their experiences into<br />

something so powerful as art. !<br />

Words: Matthew Berks / @hewniverse_<br />

homotopia.net<br />

As well as being this year’s artist in residence, Fox Fisher<br />

is taking part in three Homotopia events: Transtopia on<br />

6th <strong>November</strong>, My Genderation on 7th and Fox Fisher In<br />

Conversation on 8th.<br />

28


yuppies music presents<br />

the musicians’ art show<br />

tickets available from:<br />

Featuring:<br />

BEX BURCH (VULA VIEL)<br />

BRYONY JARMAN-PINTO<br />

night flight ‘CATE LE BON<br />

H.HAWKLINE<br />

TIM PRESLEY’<br />

CLOUDSHOES<br />

DAISUKE TANABE<br />

ED DOWIE<br />

FRÀNÇOIS & THE ATLAS MOUNTAINS<br />

HAIKU SALUT<br />

HOLYSSEUS FLY<br />

ICHI<br />

JEFFREY LEWIS<br />

LEAFCUTTER JOHN<br />

LONNIE HOLLEY<br />

MAMMAL HANDS<br />

PETER BRODERICK<br />

POPPY ACKROYD<br />

RACHAEL DADD<br />

RICHARD DAWSON<br />

RHODRI DAVIES<br />

ROZI PLAIN<br />

SEB ROCHFORD<br />

SHABAKA HUTCHINGS<br />

SNAPPED ANKLES<br />

TARA CLERKIN<br />

THIS IS THE KIT<br />

YAMA WARASHI<br />

YUMI AND THE WEATHER<br />

BIRKENHEAD: future yard NOV 12th-15th<br />

www.supercooldrawingmachine.com


PREVIEWS<br />

Jennifer John<br />

FESTIVAL<br />

ON RECORD<br />

- UNTOLD &<br />

RETOLD<br />

Various venues - 23/10-23/11<br />

The sprawling programme for the inaugural On Record:<br />

Untold & Retold festival begins with a streamed launch<br />

event from the Philharmonic Hall. Liverpool legends THE<br />

CHRISTIANS and THE REAL THING will perform sets<br />

along with contemporaries MIC LOWRY and JENNIFER JOHN<br />

and the SENSE OF SOUND SINGERS before a panel discussion<br />

on restoring the contribution of black music to our heritage. The<br />

event sets the tone for a varied programme which aims to explore<br />

Liverpool’s black music history and shine a light on overlooked<br />

aspects to bring key artists, movements and places to the fore.<br />

Anthony Wilde’s Champion One! Champion All! exhibition runs at<br />

the Museum Of Liverpool from 9th to 23rd <strong>November</strong>. The portraits<br />

show pays tribute to 31 key figures in Liverpool’s black music scene.<br />

The exhibition will be launched with screenings of four documentaries<br />

commissioned especially for On Record. Untold Stories is a series of four<br />

shorts that looks at the story of Kirklands, successful songs from black<br />

artists from Merseyside, carnival and the next generation of artists.<br />

Contemporary artists TEE, IAMKYAMI, REMÉE, ELIZA MAI, DAYZY<br />

and TY LEWIS perform at the On Record x Culture Deck Live Sessions<br />

which reflect Liverpool’s vibrant and diverse black music scene today.<br />

The music continues with Toxteth Community Radio DJs providing<br />

mixes of 80s, 90s, 00s and current day tunes.<br />

Beats Of Heart is the project of poet CURTIS WATT who will<br />

be performing spoken word that reflects the ethos and narrative<br />

of the project. Revisiting the Next Stop New York project exploring<br />

Liverpool’s transatlantic ties, Beneath The Merseybeat is a podcast<br />

series featuring prominent voices reflecting on Liverpool music<br />

from the 1950s to 1980s. And bringing it back to the present day,<br />

a run of visual podcasts will see various topics relating to the city’s<br />

contemporary music discussed with key figures who have a stake in<br />

the scene. On Record is made possible funding by Culture Liverpool,<br />

with partnerships with LCR Music Board, LIMF, National Museums<br />

Liverpool and University Of Liverpool.<br />

The Christians<br />

THEATRE<br />

HOMOTOPIA<br />

Everyman Theatre - 13/11-14/11<br />

Mooncup Theatre<br />

The boards at Liverpool’s Everyman theatre will be trodden upon for the first time since<br />

March this month. Three shows from LGBTQIA festival Homotopia will be hosted by<br />

the Hope Street venue for an eclectic mix of theatre, spoken word, visual art and music.<br />

The performances follow the festival’s 2020 theme of Show Your Working with Friends<br />

Fabulous Cabaret, Plaster Cast Theatre and S/He/It Happens producing<br />

thought-provoking, fun and ground-breaking work.<br />

Homotopia’s talent development programme QueerCore present a night<br />

of drag, poetry and theatre featuring Pretentious Dross, The QueerBodies<br />

Poetry Collective and Mooncup Theatre for the opening night. The inaugural<br />

production was helped to be realised by LCR Pride Foundation Community<br />

Fund. Comedian and Playwright ERINN DHESI will also perform as a special<br />

guest for the opening evening at the storied venue.<br />

Following on from the Friends Fabulous Cabaret, there will be a double bill<br />

which puts trans performers and stories centre stage. Sound Cistem by Plaster<br />

Cast Theatre brings the audience into a night club filled with real life stories from<br />

trans and non-binary people. The show is a self-love manifesto told with the aid of<br />

riotous, glittering disco.<br />

MITCHELL JAY stars in S/He/it Happens, a performance which uses physical<br />

comedy to explore dysphoria and identity. Billed as their “farewell tits show”, it’s<br />

Mitchell’s last event performance before their surgery is due to take place later in the<br />

year.<br />

As well as these in-venue performances, there will be a drag promenade along<br />

Hope Street with workshops on drag tips for those wanting to partake. A queerimagining<br />

of city planning will take place via a Queer The City art crawl and A Lovely<br />

Word poetry evening will feature poet, actor and writer JADE ANOUSKA. Much of<br />

Homotopia will be broadcast via live stream this year and all performances will be<br />

appropriately socially distanced and Covid-safe.<br />

30


FESTIVAL<br />

THE GODDESS PROJECTS FESTIVAL<br />

Various venues - until 01/12<br />

The Goddess Project Fest (TGPF) kick-started this October and will run until the start<br />

of December. With events in art, literature, business, spirituality, education and<br />

more, TGPF aims to inspire and empower black women to achieve greatness for their<br />

communities. With nine events taking place in association with various hosts across<br />

Liverpool, including Writing On The Wall, Homotopia and Everyman and Playhouse, the festival<br />

is an inclusive, inspiring and innovative event for women of colour across Merseyside and beyond.<br />

Events include Stage Your Story, a script writing workshop at the Everyman on 10th <strong>November</strong><br />

and I am Not Your Superwoman: Black Women’s Health and Vulnerability online discussion panel.<br />

The events will be taking place online in the hope to connect, support and care for black women<br />

during a time when mental health must be at the forefront of our minds. With talks about business<br />

from goddess Khadiijah and a podcast from Go Off, Sis, this virtual festival is set to open up a<br />

discussion about the well-being of women of colour within Liverpool. With opportunities for selfexpression,<br />

self-reflection and self-fulfillment, TGPF also focuses on holistic healing, creative output<br />

and productive positivity.<br />

The Goddess Project has been running in Liverpool for two years and has since grown into a<br />

network of women empowering one another through arts, wellness and research. They have been<br />

seen to support local, black creatives and business owners throughout their existence and show<br />

no sign of slowing down. Lockdown has presented various struggles and hardships for many of<br />

us, and The Goddess Project is here to help support people through this difficult time. Not allowing<br />

the restrictions of lockdown to hinder them, they have embraced their online community and have<br />

created a truly wonderful line-up of virtual events to help connect people in as many ways as they<br />

possibly can.<br />

EXHIBITION<br />

Heywood and Condie: This Land<br />

The Atkinson - until 27/03<br />

Heywood and Condie bring the magic of Sefton’s coast to The Atkinson this winter season for an alternative and<br />

spellbinding experience. Including film, poetry, sculpture and paintings, this exhibition creates a journey woven with<br />

childhood memories and local fables. In this ode to Formby’s coastline, the artists TONY HEYWOOD and ALISON CONDIE<br />

will reignite wonder and adventure through their multimedia celebration of the natural world. Described as “one of the<br />

most haunting and mystical landscapes in the British Isles”, Heywood and Condie are inspired by the myth and magic<br />

surrounding these woods and coastline. The exhibition is free to attend, but donations are welcomed. With a reduced<br />

capacity operating in the gallery be sure to plan your visit ahead of attending.<br />

Heywood and Condie<br />

EXHIBITION<br />

Super Cool Drawing Machine<br />

Future Yard - 12/11-15/11<br />

A touring exhibition of musicians’ visual arts side hustles is to go on display at Birkenhead venue Future Yard this<br />

month. The show, which features pieces from SHABAKA HUTCHINGS, CATE LE BON and RICHARD DAWSON, is<br />

going to independent venues around the country in lieu of musicians touring their day jobs. Painting, photography,<br />

drawings, ceramics and more will be on display for what is a colourful and interactive collection of work. The<br />

exhibition is curated by Somerset-based music bookers Yuppies Music. Tickets are available on the venue’s website.<br />

Super Cool Drawing Machine<br />

WORKSHOP<br />

Crux With Scottee<br />

Online - 02/11<br />

In <strong>November</strong> performance artist SCOTTEE joins Metal Culture for a workshop on taking your next steps as a young<br />

creative. The free session for participants aged 16-19 is part of a series of workshops facilitated by the Edge Hill<br />

hub looking to keep people creatively active and connected. The online workshops look to alleviate the stresses and<br />

stultifying effects of lockdown and restrictions with exercises to help regain momentum and direction for artists not<br />

in formal education. In December, poet DEAN ATTA will be running another session for early career artists.<br />

Crux with Scotee<br />

TALK<br />

Windrush: Music Of The People<br />

Online - 29/10<br />

Academic Mykaell Riley’s project From SS Orbita to Orbital is<br />

the jumping off point for this event which bookends Writing<br />

On The Wall’s Black History Month programming. SS Orbita<br />

followed Empire Windrush to the UK, with both vessels<br />

bringing a generation of workers, artists and musicians<br />

who contributed a huge amount to British culture. What<br />

would become known as the Windrush Generation and their<br />

descendants gave us the likes of calypso great Lords Kitchener<br />

and Woodbine, 1970s reggae sound systems and Norman<br />

Jay’s Good Times and countless others who changed pop<br />

music and culture for the better. The project has produced<br />

a series of essays which will be previewed at this event will<br />

analyse these impacts and debate the legacy.<br />

THEATRE<br />

Daniel Kitson: Dot. Dot. Dot.<br />

Online - 04/11-07/11<br />

Storyteller extraordinaire DANIEL KITSON brings<br />

a new work to the Everyman this <strong>November</strong>. An<br />

account of his own lockdown experience, written<br />

and conceived especially to perform in selected<br />

empty theatres across the land, the show will be<br />

streamed live from an unpeopled Everyman for four<br />

nights. Kitson has nurtured a cult following over the<br />

years with a string of critically acclaimed storytelling<br />

and stand-up shows wowing festival and circuit<br />

audiences across the world. The auteur returns to<br />

the Everyman for these virtual shows with tickets<br />

limited to the capacity of the theatre.<br />

Daniel Kitson<br />

PREVIEWS<br />

31


REVIEWS<br />

She Drew The Gun (Robin Clewley / robinclewley.co.uk)<br />

She Drew The Gun<br />

NEAR NORMAL @ Future Yard – 19/09<br />

We’re all counting how many months since the last gig we<br />

went to. Seven, eight months is a common refrain, worn as a<br />

medal of war or endurance. The bedroom, kitchen, front room<br />

Insta shows of late Spring from singers in their slippers served<br />

well for the moment, and the later ones broadcast from the very<br />

venues where we’re used to having our feet firmly planted on the<br />

ground were, and are, strangely comforting. Watching Working<br />

Men’s Club in the basement of Manchester’s YES from my house<br />

kicked muscle memory into action, the familiar and distinct smells<br />

of the room filling my own nostrils.<br />

But no, it’s not the same, is it? Treading water. Waiting for<br />

the real thing. The first one back in the saddle was never going to<br />

be average, no matter what. At Future Yard’s inaugural event, the<br />

stage is to be christened by local heroes SHE DREW THE GUN.<br />

What sweet irony indeed that the first venue on Merseyside to<br />

open its doors and offer indoor shows will be in Birkenhead.<br />

The Wirral peninsula’s live music offerings are typically a<br />

blanket of covers bands and tribute acts, so, not to over egg the<br />

pudding, this day from dawn onwards feels revolutionary and<br />

unreal. I’m actually going to a gig and it’s in Birkenvegas, but the<br />

big emotional jolt is that a reduced-capacity, 60-strong audience<br />

suddenly seems an awful lot of people. It feels pertinent to touch<br />

base with She Drew The Gun’s Louisa Roach in the morning to<br />

see if her feelings about tonight chime with mine. They do, as it<br />

turns out.<br />

“It will be a lot less full than a normal gig, but it will still<br />

be the most people I’ve been in a room with since lockdown<br />

happened. And certainly the most people I’ve had a shared<br />

experience with for all this time,” she said. “Even coming to the<br />

venue and seeing the crew all working on getting the venue<br />

ready, and setting my gear up on stage, you don’t realise how<br />

much you miss those things.”<br />

That notion of community and shared experience is apparent<br />

once evening comes and the doors are open and warm smiles<br />

welcome us in at staggered times, safety first. Everything is new<br />

and shiny. The toilets smell of fresh paint. Social media replaces<br />

chat at the bar, and proves to be surprisingly effective. Ordering<br />

drinks through the app gets them brought to individual pods<br />

within an inspirational two minutes. Maybe all our settings have<br />

been readjusted to fit our phones. Maybe we’re all robots now.<br />

Either way, it works.<br />

She Drew The Gun enter the stage promptly as promised,<br />

to the most grateful and well behaved audience in the history<br />

of the world. Roach straps on her guitar and launches into the<br />

ever uncompromising Resister. Is the Revolution Of Mind album<br />

really only two years ago? So much has happened since then. It’s<br />

not until Something For The Pain that the realisation finally hits:<br />

this is happening, we’re standing in a room with living, breathing<br />

people around us, artist on stage, and we’re here for good times.<br />

It’s breaking the seal, popping the cork, hips swaying all around<br />

– firmly inside designated pods, of course. It might be just me,<br />

but have She Drew The Gun become way more danceable than I<br />

remember? We’re not meant to dance, forbidden fruit, but surely<br />

a little shuffle from foot to foot can do no harm?<br />

Arm Yourself has always been a call to arms of rebellion,<br />

yet tonight it’s a celebration instead (“So we dance dance dance<br />

dance…”) and even as I’m thinking this I realise what I’m doing is<br />

pulling out Louisa’s words, phrases and applying them to now,<br />

me, this very minute. That’s a tribute to her wordsmithery in part,<br />

but a need at this end to cement this experience.<br />

The Independent Venue Week poem from earlier in the<br />

year doesn’t need reading tonight, the audience is living its<br />

narrative already; but when Roach recites it, it’s a confirmation<br />

and underscore of what’s happening. The references to<br />

Birkenhead and “all in your hometown you don’t have to go far”<br />

raises a chuckle, tied in with thoughts of the hundreds of times<br />

Wirralians have struggled home from Liverpool on the wild west<br />

chaos that is the night bus after a late finish gig. No one leaves<br />

here tonight thinking they’ll never worry about losing their shirt<br />

bagging a taxi home from town ever again, but it sure as hell<br />

feels like a start. !<br />

Cath Holland / @cathholland01<br />

“The first one back in<br />

the saddle was never<br />

going to be average,<br />

no matter what”<br />

She Drew The Gun (Robin Clewley / robinclewley.co.uk)<br />

32


The Making Of Liverpool courtesy of OUTPUT Gallery<br />

“Liverpool can’t<br />

escape history. It’s<br />

really important to<br />

acknowledge that”<br />

The Making Of Liverpool courtesy of OUTPUT Gallery<br />

The Singh Twins:<br />

The Making Of Liverpool<br />

OUTPUT Gallery<br />

Produced in 2008 by world-renowned Merseyside duo THE<br />

SINGH TWINS, The Making Of Liverpool is an animated film that<br />

blends the 800-year history of Liverpool with the city’s artistic<br />

legacy. On display for the first time since its launch during the<br />

European Capital of Culture celebrations 12 years ago, the film<br />

aims to embody the diversity of people and of the city’s creative<br />

output, as well as provide an insight into the Singh Twins’ artistic<br />

process.<br />

Created in collaboration with local company Draw &<br />

Code, Bebington-based musician Steve Mason, and narrated<br />

by Liverpudlian actor Mark McGann, the film was made as an<br />

accompaniment to The Singh Twins’ painting Liverpool 800: The<br />

Changing Face Of Liverpool, which is on permanent display in St<br />

George’s Hall.<br />

The film opens with an animated reference to the city’s<br />

maritime history, and over its 13-minute duration, narrates the<br />

transition from these early beginnings to a city that presents<br />

itself as a world-class hub of culture and heritage. The Singh<br />

Twins describe the film’s scope as “starting from ancient roots,<br />

through to the medieval periods, the granting of the charter<br />

in Liverpool, and right the way up to the present day”. They<br />

foreground the idea that the history of the city is “not something<br />

that’s static, it’s something that’s always changing”.<br />

Despite the documentary format, the work is very painterly,<br />

and the influence of Indian miniature painting shines through.<br />

The piece suggests a compatibility between historical narrative<br />

and new media, as well as confirming that non-Western imagery<br />

has a place in our city. “We didn’t want it to be too digitised,”<br />

say the pairing, speaking to me over the phone. “We wanted<br />

the painting element of the style and the craft to still be in the<br />

animated piece itself.”<br />

There is a natural synchronicity to how Amrit and Rabindra<br />

Kaur Singh speak and work; they communicate together, and<br />

their visuals are similarly layered with varying influences. It is<br />

clear from their words that this piece indicates a shift in the<br />

twins’ process, introducing them to the possibilities of working<br />

with digital and film media, as well as collaborating with people<br />

outside of themselves. “It was a real catalyst,” they respond,<br />

“working with other people and opening up our horizons in<br />

terms of the types of media we use… the animation opened our<br />

eyes to the way we could use those mediums to be creative.”<br />

While they’ve previously used computer software to build<br />

up compositions that would then be used to structure their<br />

paintings, lately they have been producing work that, while<br />

incorporating painted elements, exists only as a digital file.<br />

Since their studies, the Singh Twins have been questioning<br />

Western history’s insular tendencies and inability to recognise<br />

the influence of non-Western imagery. “We had a point to prove<br />

from day one,” they say, referring to the art world’s rejection<br />

of decorative motifs as a frivolous or insignificant art form.<br />

“Our art represents all the taboos of contemporary Western<br />

art as perceived by the establishment today,” they begin. “It’s<br />

decorative, it’s figurative, it’s narrative, it’s small-scale, it’s coming<br />

from a non-European tradition. We couldn’t be more far removed<br />

from the art establishment and what they perceive contemporary<br />

art to be.”<br />

Mostly influenced by pre-Victorian art, the Renaissance and<br />

Art Nouveau, and working with styles outside of the European<br />

canon, their work is richly symbolic. This is evident in The Making<br />

Of Liverpool, which demonstrates that the narratives that<br />

history and religion give us have a place within digital mediums<br />

and contemporary art spaces. The film is interspersed with<br />

photography and illustrations of the city’s most iconic buildings,<br />

enhanced by the intricacy of the decorative arts. Reinterpreting<br />

the symbolism of the Liverpudlian coat of arms as a jigsaw<br />

puzzle, the artists piece together highly embellished puzzle<br />

pieces to show the diversity and creative expression of the city,<br />

further demonstrating their unity.<br />

“Our artworks are full of symbolism,” they say, “every detail<br />

tells a story in its own right.” Discussing their history through<br />

academia and comparative religion, they outline how “Research<br />

underpins everything we do. Inquiry into other cultures and<br />

histories has always been a part of who we are and fascinated<br />

us, and it has remained very much a part of our creative<br />

practice. We very much see ourselves as social and political<br />

commentators.” The academic tradition is vividly woven into their<br />

visuals, resulting in social commentary that does not shy away<br />

from vibrancy and ornamental forms. Politically, they intend to<br />

“give a balanced view,” adding, “Liverpool can’t escape history.<br />

It’s really important to acknowledge that, and the more people<br />

understand that side of our past, the better society will be in<br />

terms of dispelling the racial attitudes that are still lingering on<br />

from the colonial mindset of Western superiority.”<br />

The work reflects the city as a place of pride for many, but<br />

is unafraid of confronting Liverpool’s slave trade legacy. There is<br />

a fundamental balance to their work, as bleak histories coexist<br />

with lively ones. However, there is a distinct and overriding<br />

optimism in the film and in their words, and a sense of pride<br />

that runs through the artistic process. The dual meaning of the<br />

painting’s title, The Changing Face Of Liverpool – reflecting the<br />

city’s exterior and physical changes, while also referring to the<br />

inhabitants and diversification of the city – suggests that their<br />

work is a portrait of the people as much as the city. “We were<br />

seeing it very much as a portrait; Liverpool personified through<br />

the people that live there. The portrait of Liverpool is a portrait of<br />

its people, because the people are the city.” !<br />

Leah Binns<br />

REVIEWS<br />

33


REVIEWS<br />

The Guvnors in their Sunday Suits, Finsbury Park, London, 1958, © Don McCullin<br />

Shell-shocked US Marine, The Battle of Hue, 1968, © Don McCullin<br />

Don McCullin<br />

Tate Liverpool – Until 09/05<br />

This DON MCCULLIN retrospective is far from a relaxing<br />

trip to the Tate, but remains an essential one. Endlessly snaking<br />

round the special exhibitions floor, the retrospective lifts the<br />

curtain on one of the UK’s most revered photojournalists as<br />

he reflects his world back in over 200 black-and-white prints,<br />

each produced in his own darkroom. Spanning over 60 years<br />

of award-winning photography, that world is one of conflict,<br />

poverty, and being the ‘inconvenient witness’ to some of the<br />

most sobering periods, places and people of the 20th Century.<br />

Featuring exclusive prints of Liverpool and other northern<br />

landscapes paying the price of industry, the curation is a window<br />

into this uncomfortable world. But it’s a necessary world, and is<br />

just as much a journey into McCullin’s eyes as it is evidence of<br />

how his craft has become his loudest voice, and, more recently,<br />

something of a saviour.<br />

“I didn’t choose photography – it seemed to choose me,”<br />

an 85-year-old Sir Donald McCullin CBE notes at the start<br />

of the exhibition. And perhaps it was nothing short of divine<br />

intervention that guided McCullin onto his righteous path in<br />

1958, when a staged photograph of former schoolmates-turnedlocal-gang<br />

made him the most sought-after photographer<br />

overnight. Taken on a twin reflex Rolleicord after returning from<br />

military service in Africa, The Guvnors In Their Sunday Suits In<br />

Finsbury Park, London (1958) was not just a chance meeting<br />

with the foundations of gripping photography, but the beginning<br />

of his life, as the World Press Photo Of The Year recipient notes.<br />

But as you progress with McCullin’s early photography taken<br />

in the smoky cafes of London’s East End, his work becomes less<br />

a result of careful choreography and more an innate affinity with<br />

irresistible storytelling. “I had an almost magnetic emotional<br />

sense of direction pulling me to extraordinary places,” he writes<br />

in one caption, referring to his British Press Award-winning<br />

trip to Berlin in 1961 when the Wall was just being built. An<br />

assignment he funded out of his own pocket, McCullin’s divided<br />

Berlin is a society juggling military occupation with the routines<br />

of everyday life. Here are West Berliners at Checkpoint Charlie<br />

peering over the wall to spot former neighbours and colleagues;<br />

here the glares of children as machines of war become one with<br />

their street playground.<br />

It is this powerlessness which runs central throughout the<br />

retrospective. The true cost of having that magnetic pull to<br />

extraordinary places was that it lured McCullin to some of his<br />

darkest assignments, most notably presenting faraway wars to<br />

audiences back home in weekend supplements. That McCullin is<br />

regarded by many as the UK’s greatest living war photographer<br />

– a label which sits uncomfortably with him – becomes apparent<br />

through his honest depiction of conflicts and humanitarian crises,<br />

from the Congo to Cyprus, Beirut to Vietnam. It was here, during<br />

the Tet Offensive – a campaign which soured America’s attitudes<br />

to the Vietnam War – where McCullin met his Shell-shocked US<br />

Marine, The Battle Of Hue (1968). “I kind of dropped down on<br />

my knees and took five frames with my 35mm camera of this<br />

soldier,” McCullin writes. “He never blinked an eye. His eyes were<br />

completely fixed on one place.” A chilling visualisation of PTSD<br />

before it was widely understood, the image of the 5th Battalion<br />

Marine is one of McCullin’s most enduring explorations into the<br />

futility of war.<br />

That futility would again punch through McCullin’s coverage<br />

of Biafra’s deadly struggle for independence from Nigeria – a<br />

chapter which left a devastating void after my two-hour visit. As<br />

victims of food blockades and human rights abuses, swathes of<br />

Biafrans suffered with starvation and severe deprivation. Sitting<br />

dignified as her child struggles for breastmilk, the Starving<br />

Twenty-Four-Year-Old Mother with Child, Biafra (1968) is a<br />

desperate plea to those standing before the print. Another is<br />

Biafra (1969), an image of a malnourished nine-year-old albino<br />

boy, living in a “position beyond description” as McCullin notes.<br />

So many of these images truly are beyond description. At every<br />

turn, the retrospective reveals that those who pay the most<br />

devastating price of war are so often those with the very least.<br />

But McCullin is just as suited to exposing the social wars<br />

taking place within our own communities as he is on statesponsored<br />

atrocities abroad. His prints of cities across northern<br />

England during the 1960s and 1970s reveal wars fought<br />

not with bullets and bombs, but with the social decays that<br />

followed industrial decline. Especially striking are his 14 prints<br />

of Liverpool, revealing a city facing the harsh consequences<br />

of both its shrinking port industry and its battle with the slum<br />

clearance programme in Toxteth – the result of which left a<br />

landscape not unlike the ruins of Berlin. So, too, are his prints on<br />

the chimney skylines and crowded homes of Bradford, each one<br />

unravelling the various faces of poverty. “I don’t pull my punches<br />

when I photograph poverty,” he noted in Bido Lito!’s October<br />

issue. “Mainly because I understand it.” Poverty, for McCullin,<br />

was a childhood constant growing up in London, and so there’s<br />

sincerity in offering a voice both to his subjects and to his own<br />

lived experiences through the prints.<br />

“What I hoped I had captured in my pictures,” McCullin<br />

writes in the gallery’s introduction text, “was an enduring image<br />

that would imprint itself on the world’s memory”. McCullin is still<br />

obsessed with making prints, but they’re not of war-torn places<br />

and displaced people. Allowing us to contemplate the difficult<br />

contents of the retrospective, the final section is a reconciliation<br />

of human devastation with the natural world. Serving as an<br />

antidote to the tormenting memories of war and of being that<br />

inconvenient witness to history throughout much of his career,<br />

these healing prints of Somerset’s countryside illustrate a<br />

photographer turning something of a page.<br />

Don McCullin doesn’t want to be remembered as a war<br />

photographer, preferring instead to leave a legacy of bringing<br />

landscapes closer to our eyes. Leaving the gallery, these final<br />

images leave me with the conclusion that, though McCullin may<br />

never be able to shake his reputation for capturing the world<br />

at its ugliest, he will no doubt be remembered for helping us<br />

appreciate it at its most beautiful.<br />

Matthew Berks / @hewniverse_<br />

34


German Revolution<br />

Expressionist Prints<br />

Lady Lever Art Gallery – until<br />

28/02<br />

The Lady Lever has a knack for quietly putting<br />

on world-class exhibitions. True to form, it is now<br />

hosting the Hunterian Gallery in Glasgow’s touring<br />

exhibition, German Revolution Expressionist Prints,<br />

which welcomes back visitors after the gallery’s<br />

recent enforced closure.<br />

Over three rooms, prints made by artists<br />

reacting to the 1918-1919 Revolution and<br />

exploring its social, political, moral and sexual<br />

consequences, and some earlier prints which acted<br />

as key influences, are displayed in an intimate<br />

(Covid-19 appropriate) setting.<br />

The prints are beautiful. Some are so detailed<br />

with such fine strokes that they resemble<br />

painstaking pencil sketches. The size of the prints,<br />

dim lighting and the deep red which continues<br />

through the three galleries serve to create a deeply<br />

personal experience.<br />

Works by world famous artists such as<br />

Picasso, Munch, Dix and Schiele will ensure footfall,<br />

but it is the work by lesser-known artists (at least<br />

to non-art historians) which is particularly striking.<br />

Max Beckmann’s The Martyrdom (Das Martyrium)<br />

depicts the 1919 execution of Rosa Luxembourg,<br />

one of the leaders of the revolution, at the hands of<br />

the Freikorps. The idea of the suffering of the city<br />

of Berlin, rather than Christ, in the Stations of the<br />

Cross is to jolt the viewer in to the reality shown in<br />

the print. Another unsettling print is Beckmann’s<br />

1922 lithograph Die Nacht (Night), which depicts<br />

inhabitants of an apartment crammed in to<br />

an attic and whose acute angles illustrate the<br />

claustrophobia and awkwardness of the living<br />

conditions that faced the Berlin poor.<br />

The galleries cover different areas: Love<br />

And Anxiety; A Bridge To Utopia and Conflict<br />

And Despair. They document chaotic times in<br />

Germany’s history with a gentleness and lightness<br />

of touch that makes it an affecting experience,<br />

and one which helps to provide an insight into the<br />

tumultuous times. It means that even those without<br />

a historical grasp of the period will be moved.<br />

The artists deal with the effects of the<br />

Revolution in different ways. While some<br />

wandered into realms of fantasy as a means of<br />

escape, others mirrored the turbulence of the<br />

period. By far the most hard-hitting works are in<br />

the Conflict And Despair section which depicts<br />

the struggles of the lower working class, including<br />

some pieces by Käthe Kollwitz. The prints very<br />

much represent the perspective of the oppressed<br />

and poor using Biblical allusions and satire to<br />

imbue the subjects with sympathy. The process<br />

of print making suited the artists’ intentions of<br />

questioning the new society as it enabled them to<br />

produce multiple copies, adding to their potential to<br />

be used to inform.<br />

It’s a poignant exhibition which documents<br />

reactions to a disordered period in history and<br />

shows the effects of the unfairness and ensuing<br />

injustices which were heaped on the weakest. Go<br />

while you can.<br />

Jennie Macaulay<br />

Prints in Lady Lever Gallery<br />

Pablo Picasso, Le repas frugal, 1904, etching cat. 25 © Succession PicassoDACS, London 2018.<br />

Royal Philharmonic Orchestra On Demand<br />

Online – 01/10<br />

With a top orchestra there may be 30 violinists onstage, but each one must be soloist calibre. In<br />

fact, many will have solo careers outside of the orchestra. The same goes for every player in every<br />

other section (yes, triangle included).<br />

Tonight’s concert, the first of seven to be live streamed from Hope Street, allows the Phil’s<br />

rank-and-file players to flex those muscles. With all pieces written for smaller ensembles than your<br />

typical orchestra, each musical line is left in the care of one or two musicians. These reduced forces<br />

are a necessity, enabling the RLPO to inhabit its home turf while still socially distancing.<br />

PAUL HINDEMITH’s musical language is pretty dissonant, but the RLPO players seize the<br />

jagged threads of Kammermusik 3 for all they’re worth, wringing a sense of direction and emotion<br />

from them, especially principal cellist Jonathan Aasgaard. This work is subtitled ‘cello concerto’, and<br />

he’s got the soloist’s flair to produce more than just a busy-sounding piece of music. With only a<br />

few lucky punters in the hall [capacity is cut down from 1,700 to 240 for this run of shows], players<br />

are free to perform for their colleagues on the stage, and perhaps that’s something that benefits<br />

music from the middle decades of the 20th Century, when modernism had lost its shock value but<br />

hadn’t yet achieved ‘classical’ status with audiences.<br />

IGOR STRAVINSKY’s Dumbarton Oaks is another sort-of concerto (like the Hindemith, one<br />

instrument or small group haggles with the rest of the ensemble), but one sounding much more<br />

old-fashioned. It’s part of Stravinsky’s neo-classical period, which puts 18th-century style through<br />

a prism, like Picasso’s cubism – taking the old-as-the-hills still life and rupturing it. This is also ‘busy’<br />

music, but some of the most beautiful stretches are the long, held chords at the end of the first<br />

movement, particularly by horn players Timothy Jackson, Simon Griffiths and Christopher Morley.<br />

Finally, DMITRI SHOSTAKOVICH’s Chamber Symphony In C Minor is an arrangement of his<br />

String Quartet No.8 – probably last heard in Liverpool on the cusp of lockdown when Manchester<br />

Collective visited in March. That original, dedicated to “victims of fascism and war”, is a brittle,<br />

skeletal thing. This arrangement for string orchestra makes it seem inescapable; you can see and<br />

hear the effort of sawing away as hard as bowstrings allow, both the players’ and instruments’<br />

sinews taut.<br />

A review is supposed to tell you what it was like to be at a gig, but there’s no audience tonight.<br />

Given that classical music’s image is often bound up with its archaisms (bowing, applauding,<br />

standing/sitting), it’s quite endearing to hear the players compliment each other upon downing<br />

tools. Though not in the highest definition, the cameras do the right thing in lingering on individuals,<br />

usually during solos. With music scenes of all genres in dire straits as government guidance<br />

remains… changeable, it feels like a result to have 24 people onstage together. We’ll only know if<br />

streaming a concert is enough to break even after the fact, and admitting an audience small enough<br />

to socially distance makes little economic sense for most venues. The camerawork may bring you<br />

visually closer to what’s happening, but it’s no substitute for what we all want: to be in the same<br />

room, with sounds buzzing in the air around our heads.<br />

Stuart Miles O’Hara / @ohasm1<br />

REVIEWS 35


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ARTISTIC<br />

LICENCE<br />

This month’s selection of creative writing features members of Give<br />

Poetry A Chance. Poets Laura Ferris, Louise Evans and Cullo provide<br />

the words, all selected by Give Poetry A Chance founder Dan Cullinan,<br />

who shares his experience in running the initiative.<br />

Three Cherries<br />

The lights come up.<br />

Like a lot of lads, I didn’t really open up<br />

to people, so instead I opened up my<br />

phone and jotted down my thoughts.<br />

These thoughts turned into poems,<br />

and, by September 2017, I had left my job and<br />

moved to Vietnam. While in Vietnam, I collated<br />

my poems and released a short run of poetry<br />

books. When I returned to the UK in 2018, I<br />

gave copies to family and friends.<br />

One day in <strong>November</strong> 2018, I received a<br />

phone call from Mellowtone’s Dave McTague<br />

suggesting that I start my own poetry nights,<br />

as The Jacaranda would be interested in<br />

hosting them. Straight away I said yes and<br />

decided that the events would be called Give<br />

Poetry A Chance.<br />

We’ve now hosted 13 events across two<br />

venues, with our last event before lockdown<br />

being our anniversary event on 26th February<br />

2020.<br />

To celebrate our one-year anniversary,<br />

we released an anthology containing poems<br />

submitted by those who have supported Give<br />

Poetry A Chance throughout its first year.<br />

All proceeds raised are donated to Scouse<br />

Kitchen, a Liverpool-based homeless support<br />

community project. Homelessness can affect<br />

anybody and that is why we chose to support<br />

the amazing work that Scouse Kitchen do.<br />

Words: Dan Cullinan / @PoetryAChance<br />

@PoetryAChance<br />

Give Poetry A Chance: The Anthology is<br />

available to purchase now.<br />

Come To Think Of It<br />

We’re building buildings on top of buildings<br />

On top of buildings on top of buildings<br />

No green space left, no air to breathe<br />

We’re choking on concrete, living on cement<br />

There’s brick dust in the heroin<br />

People are dying in tents<br />

Opium epidemic, spice epidemic<br />

Come to think of it, the county’s in a crisis<br />

Food banks instead of corner shops<br />

No pints of milks, but gallons of blood<br />

Nobody’s crying when it’s spilt<br />

Violence has become the norm<br />

The libraries are closing down<br />

No books in the hands of children<br />

But knives in every pocket<br />

Innocence has gone from society<br />

Society has failed the young<br />

Come to think of it, we are society<br />

When will we step up?<br />

How many people must suffer<br />

Before enough is enough?<br />

We talk of mental health<br />

But what’s the next step?<br />

We receive the diagnosis<br />

But where is the medicine?<br />

Come to think of it, where is the funding?<br />

The NHS is crumbling<br />

God save the NHS<br />

You can keep the queen<br />

She’d rather protect the monsters<br />

And keep the people dreaming<br />

People are scared to walk<br />

In case they go hungry<br />

All because some idiot said “This is my country”<br />

But as humans we’re a family<br />

And family comes first<br />

How can you look into someone’s eyes and say<br />

“This is what you deserve”?<br />

One thing’s for certain<br />

We’re not on this earth for long<br />

Start doing what’s right<br />

Never choose wrong<br />

Cullo<br />

August Rain<br />

High July sun submits<br />

to August rain,<br />

summer soundtrack<br />

of water on glass<br />

and your beautiful name,<br />

in summer – and sugar rain<br />

crystals stream down the window pane.<br />

Suspended time<br />

morning coffee to midnight wine<br />

intertwined<br />

night then day<br />

then day then night then day again<br />

Skin on skin<br />

touch on touch<br />

I’m treading water, gilded,<br />

in a silver shiver, a river rush<br />

a dream awake, here we are awash<br />

in summer rain.<br />

It cleanses old sin,<br />

lets the freshwater in.<br />

We let go then we go again.<br />

Stage right/ I’m leafing through those postcard<br />

reproductions of famous masterpieces, you know<br />

the kind. I’m thumbing a Hopper and a<br />

Warhol/ wishing there was a Klimt here for me to<br />

take home and display in a frame and<br />

continue to not know its name/ or anything about it<br />

really.<br />

A voice swims up behind me, close enough for<br />

the hairs on the nape of my neck to respond,<br />

vulnerable.<br />

It’s metallic yet soft, this voice/ I hold<br />

my breath and freeze/ a fruit machine<br />

in my brain is rifling through<br />

possible responses and scenarios/ will I<br />

relax into it, hear what it’s got to say or<br />

will I turn and question why it has approached a<br />

perfect<br />

stranger in a perfectly strange gallery…<br />

will it get three cherries?<br />

It effortlessly breathes in my left ear/<br />

“these places make me so horny, babe.”<br />

I turn in engaged shock/ revolt –<br />

the feminist in me is pulling up her sleeves/ ready<br />

for<br />

a fight, another part is amused at this intruder/<br />

so contrite.<br />

“Sorry, I err… I thought you were my girlfriend.”<br />

A perfect stranger/ my dubious<br />

doppelganger, turns and painfully offers<br />

a conciliatory smile/ an awkward apology/<br />

a little wave and the voice sidles off.<br />

I find a Klimt tucked at the back.<br />

Louise Evans<br />

Laura Ferris<br />

38


SAY<br />

THE FINAL<br />

Ahead of White Ribbon Day, a worldwide movement established to end male violence against women, Cath<br />

Holland questions why dissatisfaction towards male offenders in the public eye is often only temporary and<br />

all too quickly forgotten.<br />

Throughout music history, the misdemeanours of<br />

cash cow male stars across the genres have been<br />

tolerated, brushed under the carpet, hushed up. The<br />

nearer to, or higher up, the popular music canon, the<br />

more easily and readily they are forgiven for bad behaviour. A<br />

collective amnesia takes over around inappropriate attitudes and<br />

actions towards women by successful, famous men. Focus on<br />

Slowthai’s behaviour at NME Awards 2020 was sidelined within<br />

days; a line drawn under Miles Kane’s attitude towards a female<br />

journalist in 2016 pretty sharpish following his inadequate<br />

apology.<br />

When Kasabian singer Tom Meighan was convicted of<br />

assaulting his former partner in July this year, the rest of the<br />

band reduced the assault to “personal issues” before cutting<br />

him loose proper. Meighan pleaded guilty at a time when<br />

many worked from home and had limited social lives outside<br />

our immediate family and friends. There were no gigs or<br />

football matches to divert our attention, leaving both time and<br />

opportunity for a wider conversation to be had about domestic<br />

violence and a chance for abusive men, famous or not, to<br />

examine and reflect on their habits, to take the opportunity to<br />

feel shame in the knowledge neighbours were at home more too<br />

and could hear through walls.<br />

But, as ever, debate or action on the subject fizzled to nowt<br />

within days, everyone agreeing that, yes, domestic violence is<br />

really bad, we’ll have to do something about it. At some point,<br />

when we get round to it, pass the peas someone. Domestic<br />

violence rates shot up alarmingly during the pandemic. Phumzile<br />

Mlambo-Ngcuka, Executive Director of UN Women, called the<br />

increase a “shadow pandemic”. UK charity Refuge reported<br />

a massive 700 per cent increase in calls from mainly women<br />

to the National Domestic Violence Helpline on one day alone<br />

in April as lockdown bit hard. The same month as Meighan’s<br />

arrest, coincidentally. In fact, 16 women and girls were killed<br />

in cases of suspected domestic violence in the UK that month,<br />

more than triple the number from 2019.<br />

The shadow pandemic rates are bad news, and to use<br />

lockdown stress and worry as an excuse to abuse is wrong. We<br />

are all responsible for how we act towards others. That aside,<br />

when, year on year, one woman every three days in the UK is<br />

killed by a male acquaintance, 50 per cent by a current or former<br />

partner, the remainder by a male relative – son, stepson, father,<br />

brother, uncle – or a friend, or just a man they know, I suggest<br />

there is a longstanding and deep-rooted problem. The phrase<br />

‘isolated incident’ is often cited by police around such deaths<br />

and yet the Femicide Census – inspired by feminist campaigner<br />

Karen Ingala Smith’s blog Counting Dead Women – for 2018<br />

shows a total of 149 women killed, the highest number since<br />

the census began. That is an awful lot of isolated incidents.<br />

Murder, manslaughter, the sex game gone wrong defence,<br />

‘honour killings’, all add up to the same thing. Dress it up how<br />

you like, go at it from different angles, justify it, find reasons,<br />

but the end result is a dead woman. The violence cuts across all<br />

ages, incomes, classes, ethnic groups, whether disabled or ablebodied.<br />

If these women died in more public circumstances – a<br />

terrorist attack, perhaps – the headlines would last longer than<br />

the news that Kasabian no longer have a troublesome singer<br />

causing them embarrassment. I’ll go out on a limb here and say<br />

if 149 men were killed by women within a 12-month period<br />

annually, the country would be wondering why and loudly, the<br />

perpetrators rarely labelled a lone wolf acting independently, the<br />

entire female sex a spiteful coven instead.<br />

Domestic violence leads to deaths but incorporates<br />

emotional control on top of any enforced physical restriction<br />

of our movements and expression. It is hidden and unspoken<br />

about, this physical abuse through assault, rape, female genital<br />

mutilation (FGM), pressure for partners to have sex without<br />

adequate contraception, leaving them at risk of pregnancy<br />

and STIs, and mental abuse and coercive control, all within a<br />

private domestic setting, and so unseen. Maybe that’s why the<br />

“The public arena belongs<br />

to us as well. And men<br />

need to know this and act<br />

accordingly, individually<br />

and collectively”<br />

conversation around it peters out so quickly, because the world<br />

doesn’t have to acknowledge what it can’t see. Or maybe we<br />

just see it as normal. For the past five years, on International<br />

Women’s Day each March, Labour MP Jess Phillips reads<br />

out the names of women killed by men in the UK since last<br />

IWD, typically to an almost empty chamber in the House Of<br />

Commons. The seats are clear and clean of people who don’t<br />

want to know.<br />

Male creatives made credible through their art are<br />

permitted to get away with an awful lot with regards to<br />

women, while more mainstream pop stars are the easy target<br />

for faux outrage and provide a very effective route to deflect<br />

attention away from the valued music canon. We’re relieved<br />

to scorn international stars and tabloid fodder like Chris<br />

Brown; he’s remote and it doesn’t affect anyone’s career or<br />

status to call him out. But Ian Brown’s arrest for domestic<br />

violence in 2009, the exact same year, is an easily forgotten<br />

truth. How interesting it is though for both Browns, who bring<br />

in so much money to the music and entertainment industries,<br />

to carry on in their careers unhindered.<br />

It’s very easy to suck in cheeks disapprovingly when<br />

hearing of wealthy pop stars being nasty and bad, and<br />

sharing memes on Facebook saying how terrible it is. But that<br />

changes little for the woman or girl who lives down your street.<br />

Founded nearly 30 years ago, the annual White Ribbon<br />

Day each <strong>November</strong> is part of a global movement to end male<br />

violence against women, by engaging with men and boys to<br />

make a stand against male violence. They can pledge to fulfil<br />

the White Ribbon Promise to never commit, excuse or remain<br />

silent when they see or hear it taking place. The day is wellplaced<br />

in the calendar; Christmas one month later always<br />

shows a spike in male to female violence in the home.<br />

More awareness is necessary, and it’s not that hard to<br />

achieve. Helen Reddy who died recently, most widely known<br />

for the feminist anthem I Am Woman, wrote and sang “I’m<br />

still an embryo with a long long way to go until I make my<br />

brother understand”. Meaning, unless men get the notion of<br />

equality then it’s gonna be a tough road ahead. The song is<br />

months away from its 50th birthday and we’re still not there.<br />

For a woman to enter a traditional male or public space<br />

can be risky behaviour, as is being the sole woman in the<br />

company of men. The world of music consumption is a<br />

male-dominated space still, and when we are made to feel<br />

unwelcome at gigs because of harassment or ridicule it is<br />

a way of telling us ‘this is not your place, not your space’.<br />

It’s not unlike dogs marking their territory by pissing on a<br />

lamppost. When women and girls feel uncomfortable, we<br />

should be permitted to say so and be listened to whether at a<br />

gig, in the workplace or the street. The public arena belongs<br />

to us as well. And men need to know this and act accordingly,<br />

individually and collectively take action and change behaviour.<br />

Not remaining silent when women are spoken about<br />

disrespectfully, even if we aren’t present, is a constructive way<br />

of supporting us. For men who show women their intimate<br />

body parts to intimidate and scare us, to remind us who is<br />

boss, to let us know what could happen if we don’t toe the line,<br />

other men must speak up when shit like this happens.<br />

Women’s thoughts are heavily policed by those we don’t<br />

know, have never met. That’s a subject on its own, and instead of<br />

joining social media pile-ons and trolling women with opinions,<br />

respect her right to speak. No one is saying you have to agree<br />

with her.<br />

Controlling what women do and say and think, what they<br />

wear and where they go, is a national pastime both inside the<br />

home and out of it. And it has to stop. !<br />

Words: Cath Holland / @cathholland01<br />

Illustration: Hannah Blackman-Kurz / @Hbkurz<br />

whiteribbon.org.uk/what-we-do<br />

femicidescensus.org<br />

White Ribbon Day takes place on 25th <strong>November</strong>.<br />

THE FINAL SAY<br />

39


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