Arctic Monkeys at Ally Pally

Went with my sister-in-law, my niece and my wife to see the Arctic Monkeys on Saturday night. My niece (I guess being 12) is deeply uncynical and originally wanted to get there as soon as the doors opened at 6pm so as not to miss any of the action and the promised "Special Guests" supporting the Arctics. I managed to convince her that this would be deeply uncool so we compromised on 7pm. My actual choice (as is my wont these days) would have been to arrive 5 minutes before the band came on when the bar's nice and quiet and you're less likely to get in any fights with drunks.

The upside of being there so early is that there were no queues at the booths were you get your drink tokens. One token cost £1.75 and a pint of Carlsberg in a self-destructing paper cup that allows you 10 minutes to drink your beer before it starts leaking on your shoes costs 2 tokens. Soft-drinks are a token each. I didn't look any further than that. So with drinks we went and stood near the stage just as the lights went down for what turned out to be the first of the two support acts.

Alexandra Palace is as big and grand as the name suggests and also slightly shit as a venue to see bands. Cavernous and lacking in any charm on the inside, it could actually be worse in that it could all be seating but then you might actually be able to see what's happening on the stage without resorting to the giant video monitors on each side of the stage. If I wanted to watch a band on TV I'd go to Glastonbury or stay home. The first band were like a sixties Arctic Monkeys: singer/guitarist and some mates on drums and bass and northern floppy haircuts. Pretty entertaining I didn't know who they were until later as their name was written somewhat incomprehensibly on the bass drum. It turns out they were The Rascals and you can hear their tunes on MySpace or buy their EP which is out today.

After they left there was another long pause while we jostled down the front with the crowd. This wasn't just my niece's idea, I think her mother was also keen on spending the next 90 minutes or so by the stage waiting for the main show to begin. It gave me a chance to survey the crowd who were (to me who doesn't get out too much) an interesting bunch. The large group of lads immediately to my left reminded me most of football fans in the 'eighties: smart casual, little animal logos on their polo shirts and jumpers, sharp haircuts, plain white trainers. They popped some pills, smoked in a vaguely surreptitious fashion cupping their hands around their cigarettes and drank beers with spirit chasers and looked at me menacingly as I clocked their outfits. By way of a total contrast there was a young group of boys, maybe on the verge of starting shaving, all colourful T-shirts and Oasis hair who I figured to be a bunch of posh school boys dropped off by parents for the evening. I liked them, they weren't scary and they apologised when they pushed into you. Elsewhere there were couples, small groups of girls who'd dressed up - nothing terribly remarkable. And then the second support act came on.

Even as they took to the stage I could see that this wasn't necessarily the greatest idea a promoter could have. Black skinny jeans, goth hair, biker jackets, hairspray, Dayrl Hannah's make up from Bladerunner. The Horrors (because that's who they were) seem like a reasonable bunch of guys, the usual mix of Bowie, art school and Penguin Classics made palatable by the fact that they do it with a certain style, humour and irony. Back in 'eigthies Birmingham, probably the last time I saw Satan worshippers this close up, Goth and Irony just didn't go in the same sentence. You can see their videos here and to be fair I find the more I hear them the more I like them. Vast swathes of the crowd, led I suspect by the casual throwbacks, spent the entire set chucking coins, beer, paper beer cups and pretty much anything else they could find at the band. They really didn't like them and booed loudly between songs. The Horrors remained undeterred (for which I admire them greatly) and engaged in some lively banter with the crowd. The Horror's singer Faris Badwan* between songs: "Boo. That's B-O-O isn't it. Add a K on the end and you might learn something." More rounds of beer and coins. Enough about them.

The stage and kit was reset behind a big billowing curtain and around 9.25pm the Arctic Monkeys came on to huge applause and pogoing down the front. I didn't last long down there and disappeared with my wife to stand by some huge speakers at the side where we could vaguely see. The sound had improved dramatically and I guess top bands stipulate with their record label and management that however good the support bands are that they have to have their sound mixed by a deaf blind man.

The crowd turned into a mass of sweaty bodies, waving hands clutching mobile phones as they recorded the gig for posterity. I loved the people who were recording or videoing the gig and would singalong with Alex Turner into their phone. YouTube's full of these. All the geeks I knew back in the 'eighties who used to record and bootleg live shows (Joy Division, New Order, Bowie, even the Au Pairs) made a habit of standing as still as possible so as not the mess with the Sony Professional recording Walkman they had in the folds of their trenchcoats. How things have changed.

The Arctic Monkey's success seems to be reflected in a better diet (they've put on a little weight and some muscle) and skin care regime (less spotty) but the music is as good as ever. Live the Arctic Monkeys are a high energy act with the crowd singing along to everything except the newest tunes.


*They all have stupid names: FARIS BADWAN, TOMETHY FURSE, JOSHUA THIRD, COFFIN JOE
and SPIDER WEBB

being vegan: The Last Day

I had meant to write everyday about my 30 days of self-imposed veganism, about how it had affected my day-to-day routine, my health, moods, weight and happiness but the truth is that after the first week it really wasn't that big a deal. Not eating fish, meat, dairy and eggs (are eggs covered by "dairy"?) was surprisingly easy, largely I suspect because I'm quite a fussy eater anyway in that I don't eat a great deal of processed food and tend to cook from scratch.

The biggest potential change will be my attempt to extend the care I've been taking in planning what I eat and examining food labels back to my non-vegan diet. I've said that overall I'll eat less meat and when I do I'll *try* to make sure it's free-range. By and large this probably means not eating out or just not eating meat when I'm out as I have yet to find a Chinese restaurant offering organic or free-range products. Quite a few times I've looked at the food labels on processed food in the super-market to see whether I could eat it and not and although they may have passed the no eggs, no dairy, no animal product tests the sheer number of additives has put me off buying them.

Maybe the most useful thing to write about going forward is how I get on trying to be a more ethical eater following my bout of veganism. Watch this space.

Some films: I'm not there, 3:10 to Yuma, Brick Lane

I've been kinda busy so here's a brief rundown on what I've seen and what I made of them. It's mostly for my benefit as my memory, long and short-term, is shot to hell. The pic is from Todd Haynes' I'm not there, his Bob Dylan bio-pic (sort of). So in what way isn't it a bio-pic? Well, the Dylan character is never named as being Dylan and is played by a bunch of different actors including Cate Blanchett, Christian Bale and Marcus Carl Franklin. The whole thing is fairly entertaining with some great high-points but does go on a bit. My favourite bit is Cate Blanchett's stoned Dylan and Allen Ginsberg heckling a life-size statue of Christ on a cross and she chucks out the fantastic Dylan-esque line: "Play one of the early ones!".

3:10 to Yuma proves that Russell Crowe is in much better films than his somewhat limited acting range deserves but in his defense it must be said that they're never less than entertaining. Christian Bale is the stand-out presence here in this hugely entertaining Western.

The Kite Runner, based on Khaled Hosseini's novel (which I haven't read) is probably my least favourite film here. I found the film overly manipulative and nasty (which isn't something I would normally hold against a film). Great performance by Homayon Ershadi as the father of the feckless Amir which is probably worth the price of admission on its own.

There are lots of great things about Brick Lane, not least that fact that I found it way more engaging than the book and visually it does some interesting things, especially in the way the almost exclusively non-white cast are shot in a sympathetic way that emphasises their ethnicity that places them at the centre of the film. Having said that the film is almost too gentle and doesn't fire up the passions. Again I think the best piece is the portrayal of the father, Chanu, by the legendary Satish Kaushik.

Holy Fuck! Lo-fi geniuses at The Social

Went to see Holy Fuck at The Social last night which was without doubt the best gig I've been to since I can't remember when.

Flickr pics here (not mine)

Holy Fuck on MySpace

Holy Fuck on Wikipedia

Being vegan: Day 11

Not a great deal to say except I'm enjoying my newly found (and temporary) veganism, my wife is less angry and I've had some very nice meals. Friends fed me a vegetable soup thing with sweet potatoes, Yol made chick peas and macaroni, I made sour chick pea curry with ocra and tomatoes and rice and yesterday I had a Pizza Express Giardana without cheese. I've been drinking copious quantities of vegan wine, spirits and vegan society-approved beers. I think I've lost a small amount of weight but feel pretty good all round. Sunday I went for my longest swim so far.

Being Vegan: Day Five

The thing about not eating meat, fish and dairy is how expensive it all is. I had so-so vegetarian sushi and a miso soup from Pret for lunch yesterday which came to £4.25 and today I spent £17.50 in Holland and Barett on pumpkin seeds, cashew nuts and the like and I still haven't got enough to make a meal.

Being Vegan: Day Three

I've eaten a lot of hummus so far: Falafel wrap with salad and hummus for lunch yesterday from a sandwich joint round here and today a home-made roll of hummus and salad. Last night was a vegetable stir-fry with rice noodles and a salad. I've been eating lots of fruit but probably not as much as I usually do - I think this might be that the food and portions I'm eating now are much bulkier than my normal diet.

Things that annoy me: loads of products that you'd expect to be animal-fat free aren't. Here I'm thinking of margarine. Yesterday in Sainsbury's I went through all the margarine tubs and they all had whey derived from cow's milk. Dirty fuckers.

My fellow diet-alterer, Maria, who's foresaken booze for a month is, I suspect, having a much worse time. Her plan is not going out after work for a month. I think the bit she hasn't accounted for is the solo home drinking she used to enjoy.

Being Vegan: day one

"I appear to be drinking a cup of warm piss," I reflect on leaving the kitchen area at work. It's pale yellow-green in a white cup. It's green tea.

It's part of my on-going war of attrition with my friend Maria brought about through drinking a bottle of Turkish red wine each in Mangals and then initially taking a vow that for 30 days she wouldn't drink any booze while I wouldn't eat meAt or fish. My part of the bet was upgraded (such is the way of drunks) to "leading a vegan lifestyle" and then lately, after I'd done some research (and decided I wasn't going to buy a) vegan shoes and b) a wool-free suit), downgraded to "eating a vegan diet" for 30 days.

So far it's going well but then all I've done so far is eat porridge with soya milk for breakfast, a baked potato with margarine and baked beans for lunch and two apples and a sharon fruit ion-between. I went to the local health food shop and bought a box of "Fruit, Nut and Seed Bars" this afternoon ("gluten-free; wheat-free; dairy-free; vegetarian; vegan") which were a) pretty horrible and b) very expensive. Luckily they also seem to be quite filling as tonight is the-place-I-work's 25th anniversary staff party. The posh one for the high-ups and the industry bigwigs was last week, this one is (I imagine) a drunken booze-fest fuelled by Breezers, slammers, shots, vodka fountains and other assorted niceties. I won't be eating at the do as I can't guarantee the provenance of the canapes and my sketchy research reveals that spirits are safe for vegans but the use of animal-derived fining agents in much wine and beer rules them out without more detailed work on my part.

Lust, Caution

Ang Lee's new film Lust, Caution has been previewing around London having first screened at Venice. It's long, it's very beautiful to look at, it has amazing costumes and outstanding performances, not least from its two leads the masterful Tony Leung and newbie actress Tang Wei. So why wasn't I more impressed and why did the whole thing leave me feeling pretty cold?

This is from Geoffrey Macnab's piece in the Guardian:
The film tells the story of a young drama student, Wang Jiazhi (Tang Wei), drawn into a plot to assassinate the shadowy Mr Yee (Tony Leung), a collaborator with the Japanese in the Shanghai of the early 1940s. Mr Yee is a cold and brutal man. While his wife (Joan Chen) and her friends play Mah Jong and discuss their favourite restaurants, he oversees the torture and killing of resistance fighters. Wang is ordered to get close to Mr Yee in order to prise him out into the open. In the end, they begin a very violent, sado-masochistic affair. Their feelings for one another teeter between love and utter loathing. They instinctively distrust one another but can't hide their mutual fascination. At times, it is as if they hope that through their extreme and acrobatic sex together they can finally work out each others' motives and true personality. This is as much a tale of amour-fou as it is a thriller.

I suspect my problem lies here: what is described generally (not just by Macnab) as a relationship where they "can't hide their mutual fascination" where their feelings "teeter between love and utter loathing" seems to me more like an abusive relationship instigated and conducted by the stronger partner over the weaker one. While I get Mr Yee's initial lusting after her (hey, she's young and gorgeous) I really don't get what she's meant to see in him. Is it his cruelty or simply that he's Tony Leung and as an audience we're not meant to see much further than that?

While many won't see past the athleticism of the sex scenes The New York Times has an excellent review that sees past this to the flaws in the characters and the story. My view is that Lust, Caution while beautifully shot and acted is still pure hokey.

The barbershop from Eastern Promises

The barbershop from Eastern Promises
Originally uploaded by Catfunt

Regular readers will know that David Cronenberg's new film Eastern Promises is currently my film of the year despite Julian Schnabel's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly's best efforts to dislodge it. I was probably swayed by the fact that Cronenberg came across very well in the Radio 4 interview with Mark Lawson (no longer available on listen again) and Schnabel didn't when I saw him Q&Aed at Bafta. I found his name-dropping irritating but only because of his failure having mentioned Marty (Scorsese) or Harvey (Keitel) or David (Bowie) to delivery an interesting anecdote about them. Schnabel's a name-dropping celebrity cock-tease.

The worst bits of Eastern Promises are pure B movie (which isn't such a bad thing to be in my book) but the good bits are jaw-droppingly good. Both movies are flawed: the resolution in Promises isn't all it could be and the last third of Diving Bell drags a bit but both are definite ones to see.

Anyway, the point of this post was that the barbershop in the opening scene of Eastern Promises is the barbershop on Broadway market where I get my hair cut (£8.50). When I went in yesterday the nice barber pointed out some of the things they'd done to his shop for the filming including painting the sign you can see here which he's left on the window. And at the time I just thought he'd redecorated.