Area 11 Live at Cabaret Voltaire - 13/11/14

The internet has made many things much easier. Shopping, communicating, learning, finding pictures of cats- whatever it is you want or need, chances are that the internet is the easiest place for you to find it. It's an infinite database of information, opinion, entertainment and One Direction fan sites- you can do anything when you have the internet at your fingertips. And one thing that a lot of people try to do is to promote themselves.

Area 11: Leo Taylor, Alex Parvis, Tom Clarke, Jonathan Kogan

Before the world wide web became the worldwide phenomenon it is today, an aspirational performer would have to gig, travelling around, playing in dingy little pubs and cellars to audiences of ten people. And maybe, just maybe, one day they might be spotted by a talent scout, or develop an actual following. It's how The Beatles did it, it's how The Rolling Stones did it, it's how Ed Sheeran did it. But Sheeran is a rare modern example- in the internet age, someone looking for an audience can just upload a video to Youtube for the world to see. That's how Justin Bieber did it- although there are many who wish he hadn't.

It's also how Area 11 did it. Formed in Nottingham in 2010, and currently consisting of lead singer Tom Clarke (Sparkles*), guitarist Alex Parvis (Parv), bassist Jonathan Kogan (Kogie) and drummer Leo Taylor- who doesn't have a nickname- the band started uploading Youtube videos, and through the site formed a friendship with The Yogscast, a Bristol-based collection of highly popular internet video game commentators. It's from there that they gained a large amount of their (mostly teenage) audience, an audience that grew so large that they started touring. And that brings us to Edinburgh on the 13th November 2014.

The venue was Cabaret Voltaire, a small industrial-rustic style club just off the Royal Mile, and it was jam packed with a sea of excited young faces, with some older, stubbly ones dotted around, and a group of parents sat at the back with slightly bemused expressions on theirs. There was quite an unusual atmosphere to the place. Never having been to a gig with such high young teenage attendance, I unexpectedly felt a comradeship with them; I knew they had all found this band through the internet, the same way I had. We were all Youtube subscribers and Twitter users, grouped together in a stuffy cellar to see a band we liked. Hardly anyone there knew each other, but there was a sense of cohesion between us that I've never felt before at a gig.


Three people who must've been acutely aware of that cohesion were Scott Tulloch, Marième Corlett and Jamie Dunleavey of MayHeGo, the support band for the night. After an unassuming entrance onto the stage (Tulloch, the band's guitarist, later told me that they "don't usually do shows"), the trio launched into a barrage of intense, grooving instrumental tracks that started small, then built and built with layers of drums, solos and sky-shot riffs to create a special sound. Ambient and heavy, there’s a relentless, driving quality to their songs, which got an initially unconvinced crowd dancing along- despite them perhaps not being the crowd that MayHeGo attempts to covet. This band has a style that people can really get behind; the fact they set foot on the stage to silence and left to claps and cheers is proof enough of that.

Area 11 made the same understated entrance, but this time it was to shouts, screams and outstretched arms. And, without a word, they started to play. Their signature blend of Western rock and Eastern influence pounded out of the speakers, and everyone in the audience jumped and cheered and sang along accordingly. And so it continued for the next hour, a journey through their more well-known songs from All The Lights In The Sky like the frenetic, pulsating Vectors and the anthemic Heaven-Piercing Giga Drill, their older material, and their most recent release, the Underline EP. Whether it was a song they'd known for years, or Override A, their newest song- which Sparkles* confessed they "weren't quite sure how to play"- the crowd was enraptured, reaching forwards, singing every word right back to the four guys onstage. And those guys responded, thrashing their way through the setlist- Taylor's arms a blur over the drums, Kogie assuredly providing the bassline for Parv to riff, solo and rock out to, and Sparkles* in the middle, confidently swinging and catching the mic, bouncing around the stage and delivering the strong, powerful vocals everyone in the audience knew and loved. And once their set was over and they'd left the stage, the chants calling for "one more song" brought them back out, something that Sparkles* stated they "hardly ever do".

Stepping out into the cold Edinburgh air after the show, I knew that this was one of the best gigs I’d been to. It was loud, it was powerful, it was fun. Area 11 may have started out on the internet, performing around a microphone, but in that room, stood playing their songs just a couple metres from an adoring crowd, it's clear that they have transcended it. The only way is up for this band- all the lights in the sky couldn't stop them.

Chart Wars

America is the most culturally powerful country in the world. It's not up for discussion, it's fact. Americans have popularised fast food, shopping centres, 'scripted reality' TV shows, 24-hour news channels, production line manufacture, jeans, consumer culture- pretty much every aspect of every person's life around the world has been touched in some way by the United States. Even language has been affected: students learning English as a foreign language aren't learning British English- rather, the American alternative. But nowhere is this phenomenon more prevalent than in the music industry.

Take a look at your music collection. How many of those artists are British? How many are American? Unless you are a massive musical Anglophile, chances are the latter outweighs the former by a significant amount. Now go into your local music shop, peruse the aisles, and compare the number of US artists to those from Britain, or any other country for that matter. See, it's not just you- the rest of the world is the same. No matter which country you're in, you're much more likely to hear Justin Timberlake or Green Day on the radio than you are Arctic Monkeys or Robbie Williams. And even when you do hear a British artist or band, chances are their style has been substantially informed by American culture, an effect most evident in the way nearly every mainstream British music act sings with an American accent.

Undertake a survey of the most recent song charts in both America and Britain and you'll find, unsurprisingly, that both favour artists from their respective countries. That's fair enough, you wouldn't expect anything different. What is different was the extent to which each chart contains songs from the other side of the Atlantic. In the British Top 10 for this week, there was a 50/50 split between British and 'foreign' entries, with American songs taking three of the five non-British places. It's all pretty equal. But then we have the top 10 American tracks, of which only three were performed by non-Americans- and only one of those three was by a Brit. It is clearly much harder for a British act to break into the American market than it is for the opposite to occur. Here, we are saturated in Pitbulls and Taylor Swifts and Rihannas, but across the pond only really big names like Ed Sheeran, Adele or One Direction can stand a chance of making even a dent in the charts- although, let's be honest, that last example's success is mainly down to American girls' apparent obsession with English accents and fringes.

Of course, you could argue that it's only logical that a bigger country would have more success stories than a country forty times smaller with a fifth of the population. In those many extra millions, there must be hundreds more people with the musical ability to make it in the industry. But I don't think that's the whole story. To me, there is one main factor that has facilitated American artists' success in Britain, and hindered Brits' attempts in the States, and it is this: America is in. It always has been in. Americans have been dictating pop culture since pop culture became a thing. That is why every Michael Jackson single, every Beyonce album, every dribbly noise Justin Bieber gurgles into a microphone, has received massive coverage in the UK- and, indeed, across the world. The problem is that America is also in in America. And whereas we have British acts to try and balance out the influx from the States, all America has is more Americans. They end up so saturated in themselves that there's hardly any room for anyone from anywhere else to break in.

It's not a massive problem- a lot of the American artists and bands that get exported over to Britain are very good indeed, and we can just dismiss the ones we don't like so much. I'm sure Americans are perfectly happy with the mix of music they receive as well, and thanks to the internet both sides can discover more of the other's talents than ever before. It's just that there's such a massive imbalance and, with everything America has given us culturally, it would be nice to be able to give more back every once in a while.

Gerard Way - Hesitant Alien

No-one can deny the impact that My Chemical Romance had on those of us who grew up in the Noughties. With their emo-punk riffs, their relatable themes and their eyeshadow, this was a band that resonated strongly with the large portion of the teenage population that deal with thoughts of loneliness, anger and depression. Some said they worsened those feelings- the British press in 2006, led by the Daily Mail, warned parents of the "emo cult" of self-harming and black clothes that their children were being sucked into, and labelled MCR as the main antagonist. Their first three albums (I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge and The Black Parade) certainly fit into that stereotype; songs about death, war, love and vampires- all set against an increasingly gothic background- conjured an image that matched their militaristic, Victorian-esque emo image. Then came Danger Days.

Released after a lengthy absence, this album saw the band take a new direction into a more strutting, electro-infused, ultimately mainstream type of rock. Then last year saw the unveiling of Conventional Weapons, an album recorded in the aforementioned absence- and in a period of artistic uncertainty for the group. It really was the 'missing link' between the totally contrasting styles demonstrated in Black Parade and Danger Days. The band's evolution was now clear, and would have no doubt continued were it not for their break-up in 2013. But break up they did, with Danger Days as their last 'sound'. And it seems that lead singer Gerard Way was a particular fan of this style, as he has largely adopted it for his solo debut, Hesitant Alien. Don't, however, press play expecting to hear My Chemical Romance. The voice is the same, as are some of the key musical aspects, but this isn't the band you once knew and loved. And I'm sorry to say this, but it isn't as good.

The album opens with The Bureau, a mess of distorted guitar and lolloping rhythm. As an opener to Way's glorious future as a solo act, it doesn't give one much hope. Then, after a slow fade into a dial tone which makes no sense in the context of the song, comes Action Cat. This is where that similarity to Danger Days first makes itself apparent, with the same blend of pop-rock and an attempt at 80's punk clamour. It does for the album what The Bureau should have done: it sets the tone, the feel, the energy. It's no wonder it was chosen as lead single. It feels Britpop, it feels punky, it feels good. At its finest moments, that's how this album presents itself- whether it's in the noise and spitting riffs of Juarez, or the reflective piano beat and soaring chorus of Brother, there are solid roots in 90's Britain and 80's punk, with some 70's glam rock thrown in for good measure. Way has endeavoured to combine David Bowie with Oasis with The Clash with My Chemical Romance- an excellent mix, by anyone's standards.

But that's the good songs. Some of the tracks on Hesitant Alien aren't that good. None of them are bad, but they just lack a certain spark. The sort of spark that MCR had in spades. Real attitude. For all its low-fi distortion and discordant chaos, the album as a whole is a bit of a poser, the musical equivalent of those girls who have 20/20 vision but choose to wear glasses anyway, because nerd-chic is, like, totally in. Songs like How It's Going To Be or No Shows are devoid of feeling. They try, bless them, but they perhaps try a little too hard. And none of the songs have any punch- at best, they feel like the more lacklustre tracks on Danger Days, content to drift by nonchalantly, unmotivated by the social change that their forefathers on Three Cheers and The Black Parade had the power to cause.

Don't get me wrong, it's a good album. Were it a solo release by a new artist, it may even be great. There are some wonderful tunes on there, and it's not going to be removed from my iPod any time soon. But there was no way that Hesitant Alien wasn't going to be compared to My Chemical Romance's imposingly excellent discography and, against those lofty heights, I'm afraid it really doesn't stack up. 3.5/5

"Do My Abs Look Big In This?"

(or 'Body Image From A Male Perspective')

'Body positivity' is a big thing. Don't believe me? Just ask Tumblr. Or you can read this brilliant blog post my lovely and talented friend Floraidh wrote on the topic. "Love your curves", we're told. "Love your lack of curves", we're told. "Love your breasts/tummy/hips/thighs", we're told. Promotion of being comfortable in your own skin, no matter how much body it covers.  It's lovely... so long as you're a girl. Because that's who it's all targeted at.

Do not get me wrong; I realise that the extent to which body positivity has been pushed towards the female population is due to the gender inequality that still persists around the world. Women have always been told how to to look, and that they look 'wrong' when they don't- or can't- conform and, therefore, they are now told that they can look however the hell they want. That's great, really wonderful. But males have body-confidence issues too, always have, and I'm probably not alone in feeling a bit left out.

It's probably because we, as a gender, are credited with causing the problem for females in the first place. Or maybe it's because ours is, admittedly, a less propagated issue, and therefore any attempt to fight our corner is slapped down because our problems are 'less important' than those of the long-beleaguered female population. But whatever the cause, whilst the girls are being showered with praises and confidence boosters about the way they look, males are trying to deal with their own body issues, largely without help.

Call a girl fat and it'll hurt her feelings. Call a guy fat and the same thing happens. The difference is that the girl gets a gaggle of other girls clustering around her, berating the insulter and comforting the insultee, whereas the guy gets... well, nothing. It is assumed that, because males were for so long the 'dominant' gender, that we have some kind of forcefield that absorbs insults and projects them out again as something manly, like high-fiving. Or a beard. The truth is that it always hurts to be insulted about your appearance, regardless of gender. But whilst the girls are told to love their bodies, we're told to suck it up.

Of course, I understand that the problems girls face are far larger than the one presented to us. We males are not subject to the same scrutiny, the same level of societal pressure. But that doesn't mean that we aren't subject to it at all. And yes, a vast majority of guys are guilty of constantly objectifying women. But that doesn't mean that we can't be objectified in turn. We may not get the same intensity as females, but we get it all the same, and it affects us. Stubbing your toe and having it cut off are different in severity, but they both bloody hurt.

Consider One Direction. Here we have five young guys, all at a high level of fitness, all naturally good-looking, all talented and funny and charismatic. Wherever they go, they have girls screaming their names, reaching towards them, desiring nothing more than to touch them. Look on a website like Tumblr and you'll see literally millions of posts about them, their eyes, their skin, their abs, their legs, their dimples. Some girls will physically squeak when they see a new tweet from one of them. It's true, I've seen it happen.

How are we supposed to not compare ourselves to them?

So many of us average-looking, unfit, acned guys see this group, and the reactions they cause in the opposite sex, and we cannot help but assume that that is the way we are supposed to look. We then feel bad when we realise that it's impossible because of our body type/build/type of skin/etc. For example, I myself have a big butt, and when I see pictures of 1D, Abercrombie & Fitch models and the like, I dislike that part of my body for not conforming to what is clearly seen as 'ideal'. Now, I've never been inside a girl's mind, and so I cannot know for definite, but I'm pretty sure that this is the same sort of thing they go through when they see Victoria's Secret models, or Beyoncé. The desire to be what society tells us is 'perfect', coupled with the knowledge that we cannot achieve such a goal, is not limited to the female brain. When girls walk past a billboard displaying a model lounging around in her underwear, the same thoughts occur as when a guy sees an aftershave advert featuring a chiselled, statuesque adonis.

I suppose what I'm calling for is recognition of the fact that guys can get down about their appearance as much as girls, that body positivity is not something to be preached exclusively to those with two X chromosomes. The two genders should be treated equally- it's not called 'gender equality' for nothing. And please, before anyone raises their "gender equality is about bringing women up to the same level as men" pitchforks, that argument is based upon the assumption that men don't ever feel bad about their body- an assumption that, as I've explained, is fundamentally flawed.

What we need is to lift both sexes up, to a level at which everyone is always happy about how they look. We need to reach a point where everyone is comfortable, not only about how they look, but also how they compare to others.
I know that it's an impossible dream, but as I look down my large nose at my shapeless stomach, big butt and pale legs, I can't help but think it would be nice.

Pork and Prejudice

(or 'Why Subway Is Allowed to Cater to the Muslim Community')

I've never been to Subway. My mum went once and got food poisoning, so that kind of warned me off eating there. I have, however, heard many people raving about how nice it is, so maybe I'll give it a shot sometime.

However, it appears that, were I to feel an intense need to combine eating pork products and visiting
companies named after public walkways in the near future, I would be hard pushed to find one- unless there's an eatery out there called Zebra Crossing or something. Yes, it's true: Subway is banning ham and bacon from 185 of its branches, in response to pressure from the Muslim population, and will now be exclusively selling Halal products in said branches. This is a bold move and, as such, has generated a great splurge of public opinion. A lot of which I don't agree with.

Many people have been crying out that it's unreasonable to do such a thing. The words 'pathetic', 'Christian country', 'piss take' and 'immigrants' have been thrown around. Quite a few people have reacted negatively. This is sad because- let's be real for a second- it won't make but a small impact- if any- on these peoples' lives when this change is put into action. Either they don't frequent one of the selected outlets (or Subway in general), or they do and they dislike the products that include pork, or the ham sub is the only thing that gets them through the day. If you are vehemently against Subway's move and you fall into either of the first two categories, then you can just piss off. This will not affect you in any way whatsoever. Get off the hate train at the first stop. If you're in the last group, then I hope you get better soon. I also rather think that you'd be perfectly happy with one of the other items on the Subway menu. It's not like they're banning all meats. Chill the hell out.

Aside from the tantrums caused by the loss of something that did no nutritional good anyway and did nothing to enrich lives, there have been some reactions that cause me deep concern. These are the ones involving jabs at Islam, and insinuations that Subway is somehow being weak by 'bending to the will' of the Muslim population. They are being anything but weak- in fact, it's a very clever move. I mean, can you imagine how much money they're going to make from Muslims who flock in because of this policy change? It's just about the best publicity they could hope for. And as for the commenters shouting that their country shouldn't have to change to cater to those not born there, they fail to recognise one of the great redeeming features of Great Britain: its acceptance, tolerance and generosity towards those of different cultures, countries and continents. We are a great humanitarian country. We take in everyone who needs our assistance, and allow them to stay as long as they please. This has been going on for so long that most of the people being labelled as 'immigrants' were probably born in Bournemouth or Dudley. Or Milton Keynes.

But the complaints that annoy me most of all are those that focus on the fact that Britain is 'Christian', and that a 'Christian' country doesn't have to accept changes from people not like their own. This is disgusting on a base level. First of all, I doubt many of the people saying this actually believe in a God- they just like Easter eggs and Christmas presents and think that's enough. To them, the cross is more of a fashion statement than a religious symbol. Secondly, what they imply about Christianity is that it is a gated community, whereas it is quite the opposite- the source material (The Bible, in case you weren't aware) is a book that preaches love and acceptance to people from all walks of life. And finally, Jesus himself- who was a pretty important part of the Bible, so I hear- regularly made it his business to accept people who were either different or disliked, from lepers to prostitutes to tax collectors. He probably would've even gone for lunch with estate agents if they'd existed. Now, I myself am a pretty staunch Atheist, and as such believe the Bible to be largely a work of fiction, but I can still appreciate the message it preaches. And I can also see the way that people are completely disregarding this major theme in the religion that they are ignorantly trying to use as a shield to cover their own indignant racism.

Here's the thing. If you can't accept the fact that Muslims live in Britain, then you clearly aren't British. You stand against everything your country- and the religion you claim it upholds- has stood for for many, many years. Why then, by your own standards, don't you go and live somewhere else? Somewhere that hates just as much as you, with as little justification as you? I hear North Korea's lovely this time of year.

Independence Don't

(or 'Why I'll Be Voting Against An Independent Scotland')

I'm sure you've seen or heard the news at some point recently. I'm one hundred percent sure that this has happened. You would have to be both deaf and blind or live in a cave to have not been exposed to news. So, seeing as this is the case, you don't need me to tell you that Scotland will be making a pretty big decision at the end of September with regard to its connection to the United Kingdom. In fact, 'a pretty big decision' is an extreme understatement, because the outcome of this referendum will unquestionably change many important aspects of how Scotland as a country operates. Either it remains a part of the UK or it becomes independent. It's a big deal.

As a Scottish citizen, I have the right to vote in this referendum, and I will be voting an emphatic 'no'. Independence would be an unequivocally bad move on all the levels. The Scottish have always been a fiery people, and some have long wished to separate their country from Britain, which it sees as an over-protective mother, not letting them spread their wings and take flight on their own. What they fail to see is that their wings wouldn't provide nearly enough lift to get them off the ground in the first place.

I'm sure you've heard the expression 'trying to run before you can walk'. Scotland trying to survive and thrive as an independent country would be equivalent to trying to run before you've been born. The requirement of all matters to pass through Westminster, as emasculating as it may be to the nationalists, provides the sole link- the umbilical cord, if you will- through which Scotland receives all the nutrients it needs. Among them: free healthcare; a stable, established currency; a presence in the EU, with all the trade benefits implied therein; and- perhaps most importantly to me, given my age and stage in life- free university tuition for its native population. Sever the connection with London and you sever the supply of many things that make the average Scottish citizen's life markedly easier and more comfortable. NHS? Forget it. An army? Only the regiments that belong to you. Scotland wouldn't even be a member of the EU anymore, which would mean immigration control on all traffic in and out of the country, including the other countries of the British Isles- a huge administrative and financial strain in and of itself.

And yet, Mr Salmond claims that these losses and repercussions will not be an issue. Somewhere in his half-baked and half-cocked plan, he says, are answers to all these problems and more. And yet the only solution that he has thus far revealed is to presume that the rest of the world is going to let him keep everything. On EU membership he proclaimed, "Well, of course they'll let us join!", to which the EU said, "LOL no". On national currency, he brazenly stated that "We'll be allowed to keep the pound!" The Treasury replied with "Not on your nelly". We can only assume that the rest of his 'plan' rest on similarly shaky grounds.

And yet his movement has gained significant momentum- enough, indeed, to make this daft referendum a thing. Several of my own Scottish friends and family, all of whom I consider to be logical and sensible people, are inexplicably- to my eyes, at least- behind the cause. This is highly worrying. If it were to come out at the end of September that more people were for independence than against, it would set into motion a series of events and plans that would, by 2016 (when independence would officially begin), have formed a noose for Scotland to compliantly fill with its neck. And then, when the chair is kicked out from underneath us, we'd realise our mistake and reach out desperately towards England, gasping and gurgling, imploring them to take our weight. And would they? Would they hell.

It's a heavy-handed image, but it does get my point across rather nicely- that an independent Scotland is incapable Scotland. So I'll be voting 'no', and if you are able to, I advise you to do the same. It's our homeland, and it'd be a real shame to watch it kill itself.

The Unfulfilled Legacy of Nelson Mandela

On Thursday 5 December 2013, Nelson Mandela passed away peacefully at his home in Johannesberg. The world mourns the loss of the most prominent figurehead of freedom and equality of modern times, and South Africa mourns the passing of a father figure.
Mandela, of course, achieved an historic feat: causing the transition of his country from a white-minority-led government to a proper democracy. He protested against the system of the time and, as a result, was imprisoned by the government for 27 years for his 'crimes', during which time he suffered incredible hardships. He became the symbol of all those fighting to end apartheid, a symbol who eventually caused the upheaval that allowed him to walk free once more. He then went on to serve for several years as the President of South Africa, endeavouring to ensure that every single person in the country's population, black or white, was treated fairly and accorded the same rights as one another. He remains one of the greatest figures of our time, and he will be missed. But now that he is gone, it is inevitable that a single question will be raised: how far does South Africa still have to go in order to fully achieve his dream of equality?

It is a legitimate query. Mandela may have spearheaded the movement that paved the way for a system built to grant equal rights to all, but that doesn't mean that all that was dreamed has actually happened. Sure, there are far more native South Africans in positions of power than there ever would have been if not for his actions, the black population as a whole is better off, and his story has inspired countless people- and will continue to do so for many generations- but that doesn't explain why so many of the white population still live inside their gated communities, whilst thousands of people still wander around outside with little more than a plastic bag to their name. It hasn't helped all the poor black children still living on the streets or in slums. I know it sounds harsh but, if apartheid had truly been ended, there would be just as many white children out there, sleeping in alleyways and wondering when their next meal would be.

When Mandela started on that 'long walk to freedom' that would eventually land him in the seat of power, his vision of equality for all was just that- a vision. A hope, a pipe-dream, something about which you thought "It'd be good if that happened". And now, so many years later, and despite the many positive changes that have undeniably come about due to his actions, it still has much the same status- although there has been significant progress in dismantling the political and social aspects of apartheid, the wealth gap and mindsets of much of the white minority remain largely unchanged. Bureaucracy, finances and logistics have gotten in the way of a brilliant man's beautiful dream that really should have come to full fruition. And that's terrible.

Nelson Mandela will be remembered as a great humanitarian, a strong and caring leader, and a shining beacon for all those who are oppressed and without hope. Rest In Peace.

Leave The Haters Alone!

Please don't tell me this is a thing.

Please don't say that homophobia exists on the internet. This cannot be! You must be joking! The cake is a lie!

By now, you've probably heard about Tom Daley's 'coming out' video, wherein he says that- although he "still fancies girls"- he is currently dating another man, and he's happy. Now, if the internet has taught us anything (apart from the fact that sneezing pandas are god damn adorable), it's that some people can't bear the idea of someone else being happy, to the point where they feel the need to physically type out their indignation into a 140-character text box. This is dumb. If you are one of these people, you are dumb. Go away.

And yet, as dumb as the situation may be- and it is very dumb- it was hardly unanticipated, was it now? Homophobia, racism and other such unpleasantries are rife on comments pages across the web. Apparently intelligent human beings post blogs about how homosexuality is 'unnatural', or how females should be forever subservient to their 'superior' male counterparts. It's a thing guys.

Senseless hatred is a thing.

Of course, all these idiots spewing foul vitriol at Tom Daley are misguided and stupid and terrible and disgusting. The way this guy was born is no reason to insult him. It's abhorrent that people can be so ignorant. Duh. But come on, we knew this would happen- it always does. The sequence is always the same:

1 - Prominent public figure reveals personal revelation,
2 - Stupid people make hateful remarks about said revelation,
3 - Intelligent people make hateful remarks towards the stupid people because they are stupid,

Aaaaaand nothing gets resolved. The public figure is still what they said they are, the stupid people still believe their hateful remarks, and the world's just that little bit angrier at itself. It's an exercise in futility.

Do you remember the advice that teachers always gave you in primary school about bullying? You know, the whole "ignore them and they'll go away" charade that never works? Well, I really think that it's our best shot at dissuading the haters.
Just leave them alone. Leave them in their chatrooms, to shout away at each other until their keyboards are hoarse. Don't waste your time on them- you've got more important things to worry about, like who got knocked out on X Factor or why your hair won't go the way it did last week.

Sure, haters suck. But that doesn't mean you have to give them something to suck on.


[Subject inspired by fellow blogger Floraidh- read her blog here.]

Pacific Rim: Big Robots, Big Aliens, Big Fun

I just want to start by saying this: I will always be a fan of giant CGI robots. There has never been, and never will be, a film involving them that won’t leave me feeling like a hyper nine-year-old. And if you don’t believe me, then here’s the proof: unlike an overwhelming percentage of the population, I found all three Transformers movies highly enjoyable. Although that could also be because I’ve had a love for the entire franchise since I was seven.

Point is, there was never a possibility that I wasn’t going to like Pacific Rim. I mean, come on- it’s a film about robots twatting monsters in the face. The only way it couldn’t have earned its place in my heart was if all the monsters turned out to be sparkly Robert Pattinson in a suit. So what will follow is a very biased review from a person that could not have not enjoyed this movie. And yes, that does make sense.

Pacific Rim follows the story of Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam), a pilot of one of the massive fighting machines called ‘Jaegers’, which were created by humanity to fend off the attacks of huge aliens (called ‘Kaiju’) that emerge from an underwater portal located on- you got it- the Pacific Rim. Jaegers are controlled by two pilots, whose minds are connected through the machine’s computers (voiced by Ellen McLain, who also voiced the homicidal robot GlaDos in the Portal videogame series) through ‘neural drifting’, in order to perform more coordinated movements. Becket originally piloted the Gipsy Danger Jaeger with his brother Yancy (Diego Klattenhoff), but when he’s killed during a Kaiju fight off the shore of Alaska- which also heavily damages the Gipsy Danger- Becket just manages to pilot the Jaeger to the mainland before collapsing.

Five years later, and the Jaeger program is being shut down as it struggles to cope with the Kaiju, which appear to be adapting to fight the humans every time they come through the portal. As a last resort, Commander Pentecost (Idris Elba)- the officer presiding over the Jaeger program- finds Becket in Alaska, and brings him to Hong Kong, where the machines will take on their final mission: protecting the city as its defensive wall is finished. Here he meets the pilots of the three other Jaegers still in working order- Herc and Chuck Hansen (Max Martini and Robert Kazinsky) of the Striker Eureka, the Wei Tang triplets (Charles, Lance and Mark Luu) of the three-armed Crimson Typhoon, and Lt.s Kaidanovsky (Robert Maillet and Heather Doerksen) of the oldest surviving Jaeger, Cherno Alpha. He also meets Newton Geiszler (Charlie Day) and Hermann Gottlieb (Burn Gorman), two scientists working with Kaiju brains to try and understand them better. Becket also finds his new co-pilot for the rebuilt Gypsy Danger in Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi), Pentecost’s adopted daughter. Then, as the Jaegers are deployed to fight two new Kaiju, and Newton tries to find a whole Kaiju brain to drift with (with the help of black-market dealer Hannibal Chau, played by Ron Perlman)… well, some robots twat some monsters in the face.

Now, this may all sound like your generic smash’n’crash sci-fi film. And, to a large extent, it is. The Jaegers and Kaiju are gloriously detailed and realistic, and the fights are exciting and extended. There’s explosions and missiles and aliens crushing large cities. 

And yet there’s also a level of emotion you wouldn’t expect from such a film- perhaps it’s the acting talent of Elba, Hunnam and Kikuchi, who form the beating heart of the story. Or maybe it’s because Guillermo del Torro directed the film; I got the feeling that if, say, Michael Bay or J.J. Abrams had been in charge, then that emotional aspect wouldn’t have been there. But there it was, and it was refreshing.

If I had to find one gripe with Pacific Rim, it would be that the Geiszler/Gottlieb pairing, which is quite obviously intended to be humorous, does rather fall flat on its face in that respect. Indeed, they are the characters which feel the least… fleshed-out, believable- nothing to do with the acting, more the way they’re written.

Oh, and a lot of people talk way too fast in this film, which is quite frustrating when they’re explaining what will turn out to be a crucial plot point.

And the music and sound effects very nearly drown out the dialogue in places, which creates the same issue. 

Also, some lines- particularly in the latter half of the film- are so cheesy you could grate them up and serve them on a pizza.

… Okay, so there are a few issues with Pacific Rim. But I’m going to completely disregard all of them, because I bloody loved this film. As I knew I would. 

It delivered everything I wanted from it, and everything I expected from a film of this type. It was essentially Transformers vs. Godzilla- and what’s not to like about that?

If you want a film with tearjerking moments and passionate exchanges of romantic feelings, then this movie is not what you’re looking for. You’re probably better off renting Pride and Prejudice on Netflix or something.

But if you want big robots, big aliens and big fun, then Pacific Rim is definitely the film for you.

Dance Music? I'll Dance On Its Grave

My dad should not be allowed access to popular culture. This is because it's super embarrassing because, when he hears current expressions, he tries to trot them out in casual conversation... usually in front of my friends. He'll be asking me what a 'twerk' is next. 
Another reason is because he doesn't like a lot of it. Nightclubs are excessively loud and pointless. Modern films aren't half as good as old ones. The Ford Anglia is more attractive than the Ferrari Enzo. Most of these I disagree with him on, wholeheartedly so... except the nightclubs bit.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm fine with most of their key aspects- I've got no issue with a little partial nudity- but I do get a little angry at what passes for music in such places.

The thing is, I have an annoyingly broad music taste.
"But Fraser," I hear you exclaim, "how can liking most genres of music be an annoyance?" Well, my dear questioner, the problem is twofold.

Firstly, whenever someone asks me what kind of music I like, I can't answer. I used to be able to, back in the days when my MP3 player almost exclusively contained rock bands such as Green Day or Linkin Park (I say 'almost' because I also had Mika on there- say what you want, Happy Ending is a beautiful song). But now, when my iPod's collection ranges from Adele to Slipknot to Daft Punk to Ed Sheeran to a band that sings exclusively about Doctor Who, with several gigabytes of indie musicians in between, it'd be entirely incorrect to answer "Oh, just rock really". I therefore have to resort to the fairly pathetic response of "a bit of everything", which says nothing about me at all- except that I am decidedly indecisive- and anyway, it's still quite a big lie.

This leads me on to the second issue. I am now more open to any and all types of music than I was before; I no longer shun an artist if they've never screamed into a microphone. And yet... now and then I still find groups or artists that don't fit into my musical world order. Some examples from recent times are One Direction, Justin Bieber, Swedish House Mafia and Nicki Minaj. It's nothing to do with them as human beings- I'm sure they're lovely people (although Bieber needs to get the hell over himself)- but I just don't like the music they create. And the biggest pimple on the visage of audio entertainment, my biggest musical bugbear of all, is modern mainstream dance music.

'Dance', 'Jungle', 'House', 'D&B'- categorise it how you will, it just doesn't appeal to me. The closest I've strayed towards it is dubstep, and I think that's purely because it sounds a bit like a Transformer. But any other sub-genre of dance music, with its monotonous synth beat loops, insanely boring melodies and apparent lack of lyrics and artistry of any worth- or, come to think of it, any talent at all- will either give me an aneurism or send me into a coma. Or, if it's David Guetta, both.

You want to know how people who make popular dance music (I'm not going to call them artists) manage to put so many tracks on every album? It's because they take ten minutes to create. Show me a Cascada song, and I'll show you a song that a six-year-old could knock up on Garageband. Places like Ibiza, as exciting as the nightlife and alcohol and sexual promiscuity may appear, would give you a headache within the first twenty seconds after you stepped off the plane.

Now, I can't expect people who run nightclubs to start playing Genesis on Friday nights. They'd probably have to Google who Genesis is. But what I can do is try and alter your personal playlist, to include some higher quality, less... terrible songs. So, here is my imaginatively titled 'Alternative And Definitely Not Dance Summer Playlist':

1. Tell Where I Lie - Fossil Collective
A duo based in York, Fossil Collective craft folky beauty which works perfectly with sunny weather. Best enjoyed on walks in the forest.

2. Dear - Keaton Henson
If you like being relaxed, and also maybe a little depressed, then you're going to love Keaton. 'Dear' may not be the happiest 43 minutes you'll ever spend, but it'll be a 43 minutes you'll want to have again and again. 

3. Cruiser EP - Cruiser
A little-known American band, Cruiser's Beach Boys-esque feel will have you wanting to take up surfing. Even though you'd probably be terrible at it.

4. Priorities - Don Broco
Want no-frills, funk-infused rock with a dash of swagger? Give Priorities a listen. You'll be dancing round your room for weeks. 

5. Atomic - Labrinth
A free EP released last year, these five tracks feature collaborations from Devlin, Wretch 32, Ed Sheeran and Plan B, among others. Perfect for parties.

I think you'll find these albums enjoyable, original and worth your purchasing. And you know what? If you don't, if they're just not your cup of tea, then just remember this: they're certainly a whole lot better than whatever latest compendium of crap Ministry of Sound has found down the back of the sofa.

Back To The Future

In its infinite wisdom, Sky Movies decided to show Demolition Man a few nights ago. It starred Sylvester Stallone as a tough New York cop who, for some unfathomable reason,  is cryogenically frozen for a crime he didn’t commit. Then, at an indeterminate point in the future, he is defrosted so that he can dash about, punching bad guys in the face.
It was by no means a great film, but nonetheless it’ll no doubt be snapped up for a remake pretty soon. Because remakes are seemingly Hollywood’s main source of income nowadays.
Now, don’t get me wrong, remakes are all well and good- in small amounts. But the DVD shelves in HMV (God rest its soul) are now so choc full of them that it’s really quite hard to find a film that wasn’t made before, or is a sequel or prequel, or based on a TV series or a book. It can be annoying to see a film that, in essence, you’ve seen before. But is it really all that bad?

The problem, as I see it, is that a lot of these ideas, these once-upon-a-time blockbusters, are just… not that good. Let’s take a gander through the world of soon-to-be/recently made films, shall we?

We start with Triplets, the unnecessary sequel to the 1988 film Twins, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito. The premise here is that their wooden, and decidedly non-identical, characters discover that they have a long-lost triplet, played by Eddie Murphy.
But of course. Who else?

Next up is A Good Day To Die Hard, which, as you may have guessed, is not quite an original idea. Made 6 years after the fourth installment, and a whole 25 years after the first,  this is a franchise that has been bled dry of any interest that could’ve surrounded its February 2013 release date.

Then there’s Horrid Henry: The Movie, which is the film adaptation of the books that make Mein Kampf look exciting.
And don’t even get me started on the Twilight series. I’ll have an aneurism.

If Hollywood is going to nick a pre-existing idea and jazz it up with fancy CGI, can’t it at least have the decency to pick a concept that was successful when it was first created? It can be done, and sometimes to spectacular effect. 2012 alone was full of so many films, based on an already established franchise, that rocked the socks off anyone who saw them. Even the seventh American Pie film was alright, and we’ll just ignore that reboot of The Three Stooges.
Oh, you didn’t know that they remade The Three Stooges? 
...Yeah, no-one else did either.

Of course, the main motive behind all these remakes is money. Filmmakers need funds to continue making movies, so they commission remakes which, with minimal effort spent, pull in a hefty audience desperate to feed the hulking Hollywood giant with their hard-earned cash.
And yet said giant doesn’t seem to realise that, with just a bit more love, care and attention, they could take a pre-existing idea and create not just a huge, muscular cage-fighter of a remake, but a huge, muscular cage-fighter with a sensitive side, who sometimes wears pink, and plays chess in the park. This is a film which would not just bust blocks, but crush them into tiny little pieces, scoop up said pieces and throw them in an incinerator. It would pull in enough money to pay off the American deficit three times over, with still enough left over to buy Belgium. 

It would be an amazing film.

One such film is The Avengers: the highest-grossing film of last year, earning Marvel over 1.5 billion dollars, making it the third-highest grossing film ever. Universally enjoyed by all who watched it. Brilliantly written characters, an unexpected level of wit  and amazing special effects made it into a prime example of the film industry doing justice to a pre-existing concept.
If only all sequels and remakes treated their source material with such respect.

At the end of the day, no matter what I say here, Hollywood’s just going to keep churning out remakes. And I don’t know if it’s an especially bad thing. Sure, they may be unoriginal, and sometimes insulting to their first incarnation, but they still deliver what, at the end of the day, we go to the cinema for: a couple of hours of escape from the worries of the real world. And some of them are really rather good- forget that they’re based on age-old franchises and you’ll enjoy yourself even more.

And with that, I shall take my leave- I’ve promised myself I’d spend some time on a screenplay I’m writing. It’s about a student who’s bitten by a spider and develops superpowers. It’s all my own work, and I think it’s going to turn out rather well.