Wednesday, July 19, 2006
The MCD hoover must be on over drive and surely about to choke on its own stupidity? Threads on Boards.ie linked to the recent consumer backlash over security and crowd disturbances at Oxegen are only the latest parts of the net to be disappeared. Various net hosts have been back ing down in the face of what can only be percieved as an onslaught of brand protection, exposing the more vicious side of the music business.
Pantone247 shares a lot of my concerns about the upcoming launch of supposedly alternative Dublin station Phantom Fm which now has its lips firmly puckered on the asses of half of the main players in the Irish music scene, including MCD:
Simpering away in the background of all this reaction to MCD's remarkable campaign to silence dissent among a makret it usually expects to big up its events, is a ridiculously high pattern of class prejudice and snobbery that is rife on the net and especially amongst the supposed cultured ones inhabiting a variety of online communities that pops up at any given opportunity, with most of the debates homing in around wheter security, MCD or those unruly "scumbag" fuckers should be taking the wrap over it all. And they say class is dead? No surprises here though.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
There’s a long standing tradition of music festivals in Ireland, from the Fleadh’s of yore with their bizarre intersection of trad and hippy folk revivalists, to the self organised beauty of the anti-nuclear festivals at Carnsore or the hilarity of a Dylan gig at Slane that broke out in a riot. The most romanticised of recent Irish festivals is the Semple Stadium Feiles, when sprawling night time chaos descended across a quite Irish town leading to jammed Liveline phonelines for about a week after and infuriated auld ones tearing the nation’s youth a new arsehole with verbal condemnation.
The tightening of planning legislation around festivals as a result of the chaotic nature of the Feiles led to a tragic respite from the multi-day festival from 1997 onwards. With a generation lacking any similar major rites of passage, the massive Slane one day events reigned supreme and there was always some fucker of a mate’s older brother to regale you with boastful tales of pissing, shitting and shagging all over Thurles in contrast to the placid state of Slane. But lets see these thirty something suckers dance now cos we've been pissing ourselves and getting our stomachs pumped at our own Feile - OXEGEN - or so Denis Desmond's main man Brian ‘Biggie' Spollen would have us believe.
Full rant and more discussion at Indymedia with a full set of photos..
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Living in the a new building in an old working class area brings a few things. Issolation from the rest of the community and abuse from the kids. Everyone who lives around here knows this. We will always be blow-ins. But not only will we not be accepted ito the community the way these new buildings are built creates a lack of communication.
The other day on my way home I was biking past the School Street flats and noticed a group of kids in front of me. There were seven of them, six that looked no older then nine and then one that was pushing twelve. Since it was almost midnight I noticed them and was not surprised that they started to shout abuse as I cylced by.
They started chasing me shouting "hey miss give us your bike" I wasn't too concerned since I can outbike a few kids, yet they didn't give up and next thing I was at home. There was an neighbour about to open the door, I thought I was safe. As the mysterious neighbour opened the door for me the kids caught up to me and started to pull on the carrier.
I'm used to kids messing, shouting random things but one look into these kids eyes and I realised they were high and not messing. I got the bike back but after the handle bars got bent back and my lock stolen. All along the neighour held the door and didn't offer to help. When I got the bike back and watched the kid run down the road with my lock the nighbour dropped the door and walked away without a word.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Look to the photo on the right and many of you will instantly cringe. A diminutive figure on the Dublin street scene, the plastic Paddy who spends his day sitting on the plinth of the Mally Malone statue pretending to play the bodhran while a wrecked transister blasts out a concoction of Irish noises more than anything to sum up the tourist season once it hits Dublin every summer.
Today he didn't have the dancing line of lebrachauns that respond to vibrations with him, instead he was just surrounded by about forty bibbed Spanish students who delighted as their group leader was mauled by this tragic case in a duet of "Molly Malone" complete with a broken English chorus from the kids. Given the ratio of extreme nationalists and barstool republicans to square foot in Dublin, isn't it a wonder that this man hasn't yet being found bludgeoned dead with his head peeping through the fake goat skin on his Bodhran? Judging by his reddened facial features, some of those Carrolls gift shop fans are giving him something at least for his whisky.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Just after returning from watching Ken Loach's Palm D'or reaping drama The Wind That Shakes The Barley and like most feel slightly compelled to add one or two words to the flurry of type and hype that has accompanied the movie's release on these shores. The Wind That Shakes The Barley is a typical Loach movie betraying many of the core techniques developed in his previous outings. Again he relies on plunging a shallowly crafted personal relationship, this time between two brothers, into a set of tragic circumstances. These circumstances provide an emotional cover for an overly didactic political approach to popularising alternative historical mythologies that challenge the authors of a victors' history. This time the contested historicity is an Irish text book rabid nationalism, that sweeps aside socialist and labour based movements in the process of consolidating the free state.
As in the Spanish Civil War epic Land and Freedom, his pastiche of Orwell's experiences in Homage to Catalonia given a romantic streak that nearly ends on two opposite ends of the barriacades outside the Barcelona telephone exchange, he creates his alternative historical narratives brilliantly. Like the Catalan epic he returns to his routine technique of using moments of extended tense political debate to foreground the various shades of the arguments operating within the historical juncture he is focussing on. In Land and Freedom this was deployed around collectivisation of the village as well as militarisation and in Bread and Roses it was used during the discussions on joining a union. Here he pushes an anti-treaty agenda, one based on the social policy of the democratic programme of the first Dail, to the front during arguments in a republican court that challenge the extortionate income charged by a local gombeen man and later again prior to the Treaty vote itself.
Equally a quintessential part of Loach's work is his use of characters that roll across the screen as near archetypes, each representing different political persausions and social back grounds. Its no surprise again to see Loach fall back on the idea of the "sell out". The reformist who takes the uniform of the new state and falls back in line with wealth and elites. In this new film, it's the Cillian Murphy character's brother who takes the bait - while in his Catalan epic, a college educated American communist plays the same role. Another routine stereotype from Irish folk history here is Dan, the Jackeen train driving union man who brings the workshop's and field's socialism of Connolly down to the rural backwater village where the films terse action takes place.
About Soundtracksforthem specialises in iconoclastic takes on culture, politics, and more shite from the underbelly of your keyboard. A still-born group blog with a recent surge of different contributers but mainly maintained by James R. Big up all the contributers and posse regardless of churn out rate: Kyle Browne, Reeuq, Cogsy, Chief, X-ie phader/Krossie, Howard Devoto, Dara, Ronan and Mark Furlong. Send your wishes and aspirations to antropheatgmail.com
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