Whether we’re talking about the scattergun ‘Sticks ‘N’ Stones’ or his most previous single ‘Tinfoil Boy’, a track that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Prodigy record, the incendiary Britishness Continue reading ‘Power Over Men’ is Classic Jamie T, just not in the way you’d expect
Rattling the Vendor airwaves this week is new single ‘Vice’ from Newcastle indie rockers Lisbon. A delectable exploration of decadence and debauchery, ‘Vice’ acts as a means of escapism. Continue reading The Vending Machine: Vice – Lisbon
The deep purr that emerges from the throat.
A leaning beret.
Cigarette butts ground into the pavement
With the delicate twist of a loafer’s heel. Continue reading French Girls
Earlier in the year, I wrote an article discussing Jack Kerouac and Beat culture. The Beats were instrumental in the construction of counterculture and how American society in particular wandered away from normality in its championing of the alternative, of the personal and societal other.
Continue reading The Beat Tapes: An Interview with Ace Backwords
From the beginning, whether it’s the crackle of the one-minute long intro/interlude ‘It’s Just a Fever’, the abruptness of the cyan stripe that strikes through the pop-art inspired album cover, or the glamorously smoky vocals akin to Golden Age Hollywood, Snoh Aalegra instils a strong sense of the cinematic on her debut Don’t Explain. Continue reading The Butterfly Effect: Snoh Aalegra’s Minute Masterpiece
‘What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? – it’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.’
They were words that inspired countless road trips and adventures. Jack Kerouac’s seminal novel On the Road redefined an American Dream that was waiting for every teenager to go out and make their own. Continue reading Kerouac: Why America’s First King of the Road didn’t want his Crown
I took the discoloured towel and ran it around the inside of the glass, gazing into the bottom of it. My reflection stared back at me. The indentations of the design had made my face crooked. I listened to the denizens of the bar, sat on their stools, their elbows resting on the counter, as if they were about to pray. Continue reading My Name Is Gilbert
Father John Misty, the alter-ego and re-invention of singer-songwriter Josh Tillman, has a persona caught in the Venn diagram of Charles Bukowski’s cynicism and The Big Lebowski’s timeless hipster. Musically, Misty resembles a post-watershed Glen Campbell, with Tillman adopting a smoother vocal to play the role of Misty.
Continue reading If Fight Club was a Folk Masterpiece…
The elevator music was killing me. They installed a small speaker five years ago without any warning. It would pump out noise. Not music, just noise. I preferred the classics but more than that I preferred the silence. I’d managed to cope with it over time.
I enjoyed the control. I’d twisted that golden limb a thousand times for the best part of three decades and even when they told me where we were going, I’d always have the final say on where and when we stopped. Continue reading Co-operator