Issue 112 / February-March 2021

ISSUE 112 / FEBRUARY - MARCH 2021
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
KING HANNAH / LONESAW
HANNAH’S LITTLE SISTER / G33

want to be a part of something fantastic?
Join us in our ‘Shaping Change’ workshop and learn more about basic skills in helping
others who are suffering with low mood, anxiety and tackle the stigmas surrounding
these issues. This could lead on to a voluntary peer mentoring role at Open Door
Charity in Birkenhead.
You could be on the frontline of a multi award winning service and become trained in
delivering any of our creative, digital therapeutic services to young people and young
adults.
Become part of our vibrant community and gain valuable skills and experience.
Get in touch and book yourself on to our free workshop:
training@opendoorcharity.com
@theodcharity
@theodcharity
theopendoorcharity.com

Celebrate
LGBT+ History Month
Online 1-28 February
liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/lgbt-history

In Liverpool
2-year degrees
and 1-year diplomas
Study in September
Attend a Virtual Open Event
20 February
20 March
sae.edu/gbr/openday
SAE Liverpool
38 Pall Mall
Liverpool
L3 6AL
03330 112 315
enquiries@sae.edu
sae.edu/gbr

NEVER
ISSUE 93 / OCTOBER 2018
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
SPQR / NIKI KAND / VILLAGERS
SHE DREW THE GUN / PUSSY RIOT
ISSUE 94 / NOVEMBER 2018
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
BILL RYDER-JONES / EAT ME + PREACH
JAMIE BROAD / HINDS / BIENNIAL
ISSUE 95 / DEC 2018/JAN 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
CHELCEE GRIMES / REMY JUDE ENSEMBLE
MOLLY BURCH / BRAD STANK / THE CORAL
MISS
ISSUE 96 / FEBRUARY 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
EYESORE & THE JINX / LADYTRON
LEE SCOTT / YVES TUMOR / ERIC TUCKER
ISSUE 97 / MARCH 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
YANK SCALLY / BBC 6 MUSIC FESTIVAL
MUNKEY JUNKEY / SLEAFORD MODS
ISSUE 98 / APRIL 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
XAMVOLO / YAMMERER
MC NELSON / THE ZUTONS
ISSUE 99 / MAY 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
SUB BLUE / CLINIC / CATE LE BON
SOUND CITY 2019
ISSUE 101 / JULY 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
BILL NICKSON / KITTY’S LAUNDERETTE
SPINN / ROLLING BLACKOUTS C.F.
ISSUE 102 / AUGUST 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
THAT’S JUVEY? / STEALING SHEEP
ROY / CHINATOWN SLALOM
ISSUE 103 / SEPTEMBER 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
SISBIS / WAVERTREE WORLDWIDE
SPILT / LOUDER THAN DEATH
AN
ISSUE 104 / OCTOBER 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
STRAWBERRY GUY / RICHARD HERRING
MARVIN POWELL / EDWYN COLLINS
ISSUE 105 / NOVEMBER 2019
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
THE MYSTERINES / RICHARD DAWSON
NUTRIBE / TRUDY AND THE ROMANCE
ISSUE 106 / DEC 2019/JAN 2020
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
BEIJA FLO / LO FIVE
ASOK / SIMON HUGHES
ISSUE 107 / FEBRUARY 2020
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
PIZZAGIRL BEIJA FLO / DAN / LO DISGRACE FIVE
SAVE KITCHEN ASOK / STREET SIMON HUGHES / AIMÉE STEVEN
ISSUE
ISSUE 108 / MARCH 2020
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
THE ORIELLES/ BEIJA FLO LOATHE / FIVE/ LUNA
THRESHOLD ASOK / FESTIVAL SIMON HUGHES / COURTING
ISSUE 109 / SEPTEMBER 2020
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
TEE BEIJA / ALL FLO WE / ARE LO FIVE / DECAY
JAMIE ASOK WEBSTER/ / SIMON MOLLY HUGHES GREEN
ISSUE 110 / OCTOBER 2020
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
AMINA ATIQ / BYE LOUIS
JACQUES MALCHANCE / DON MCCULLIN
bidolito.co.uk/membership

20 March – 6 June 2021
bienni.al/2021
Liverpool Biennial is funded by
Founding Supporter
James Moores

New Music + Creative Culture
Liverpool
Issue 112 / February/March 2021
bidolito.co.uk
Second Floor
The Merchant
40-42 Slater Street
Liverpool L1 4BX
Founding Editor
Craig G Pennington
Founding Editor
Christopher Torpey - chris@bidolito.co.uk
Executive Publisher
Sam Turner - sam@bidolito.co.uk
Editor
Elliot Ryder - elliot@bidolito.co.uk
Editorial Assistant
Olivia Yoxall - olivia@bidolito.co.uk
Editorial Intern
Lily Blakeney-Edwards - lily@bidolito.co.uk
Design
Mark McKellier - mark@andmark.co.uk
Branding
Thom Isom - hello@thomisom.com
Proofreader
Nathaniel Cramp
Cover Photography
Lucy McLachlan
Words
Elliot Ryder, Lily Blakeney-Edwards, Sam Turner, Tara
Dalton, Will Whitby, Stephen Lewin, Jamie Bowman,
Alison McGovern, Stuart Miles O’Hara, Anouska Liat,
Mary Olive, Matthew Berks, Cath Holland, Leah Binns,
Richard Anderson, Madelaine Kinsella, Matthew
Thomas Smith.
EDITORIAL
It was fitting that the artist who drew the most attention as
we signed out of 2020 was one defined by wearing a mask.
On New Year’s Eve, the announcement of the passing
of Daniel Dumile, most famous for his MF Doom persona,
was the first time in my life I had to contemplate the loss of a
contemporary artist of significant influence. While my early
teenage years are characterised by a somewhat cringey taste for
gangster rap, it proved a noble route for the eventual discovery
and obsession with MF Doom.
Working my way through his
discography, looking back, was an act
of enlightenment that’s shaped my
musical interests far beyond hip hop.
Doom fundamentally changed the way
I listen to and interact with music. He
changed my perception of what music
can and should achieve. Madvillainy
alone, his 2004 collaboration with Madlib,
is a rich scripture of cinematic musical
perfection. But his creative flair is there
to be appreciated across solo records and
projects under various aliases spanning
almost 30 years.
It’s perhaps the paradoxical inviting
solipsism that makes his music so compelling. What was put to
record was the closest animation of a human brain feverously
at work. It was illusory, refracted music so life-filled it almost
became tangibly real. It was so much more than manufactured
concept.
Rather than hide behind sandbags of artistic exploration, the
collage of slurred, staccato raps, superhero cartoon interludes
FEATURES
“Illusory, refracted
music so life-filled
it almost became
tangibly real”
and jazz samples was the finding and liberating of one’s own
world. The place where their art was best seen and heard. Their
home. One deeply personal but wide open.
While Dumile’s output slowed somewhat over the last
decade, his influence is there to see on some of the biggest
records released. Frank Ocean’s seemingly divine powers to
breathe brooding energy into the mundane, to frame fragments
of the ordinary as arresting poetry, owes much to Doom’s quickwitted
lyricism comprised of deft cultural incisions. He’ll be sorely
missed.
While this first editorial of 2021
may appear to fail in confronting the
continuing crisis, the motif of MF Doom
is no less relevant than passing comment
on the setbacks we’re sustaining as a
music and wider community. Doom’s
ability to locate abundant potential within
the self feels all the more relevant as we
face another period subjected to isolation.
More so when there’s no realistic end date
in sight. For it is within the self and those
in close proximity where we’ll be asked to
arrive at the greatest sense of discovery
and warmth during the rocky months
ahead. Leaning into music, film, art or literature will therefore
remain the internal escapes essential to who we are – just as all
of the artists featured in this issue display. Happy new year. !
Elliot Ryder / @elliot_ryder
Editor
MF Doom
Photography, Illustration and Layout
Mark McKellier, Lucy McLachlan, Esmée Finlay, Beebo
Boobin, John O’Loughlin, Eleanor Szydlowska, Rob May,
Robin Clewley, Sasha Kuzima, Nicoletta Kate, Mary
Nicholson, Katarzyna Perlak, Declan Connolly.
Distribution
Our magazine is distributed as far as possible through
pedal power, courtesy of our Bido Bikes. If you would
like to find out more, please email sam@bidolito.co.uk.
Advertise
If you are interested in adverting in Bido Lito!, or finding
out about how we can work together, please email
sam@bidolito.co.uk.
Bido Lito! is a living wage employer. All our staff are
paid at least the living wage.
All contributions to Bido Lito! come from our city’s
amazing creative community. If you would like to join
the fold visit bidolito.co.uk/contribute.
We are contributing one per cent of our advertising
revenue to WeForest.org to fund afforestation
projects around the world. This more than offsets our
carbon footprint and ensures there is less CO2 in the
atmosphere as a result of our existence.
11 / KING HANNAH
Tara Dalton journeys to the wide-open roads and empty spaces of
the duo’s cinematic debut EP.
16 / SOUNDS SIMILAR TO BEFORE
Continuing our research with University of Liverpool, the latest
analysis draws on October’s sector-wide public consultation and
challenges surrounding the securing of funding.
18 / LONESAW
Stephen Lewin talks cults and rituals with one of the most
compelling live bands Liverpool has seen in recent years.
20 / HANNAH’S LITTLE SISTER
Leaving pretence at the door, the four-piece have found success
and comfort in their own oddball world of music.
23 / KOUSIC SEN
Jamie Bowman retraces the story of the master tabla player and
current Milapfest artist in residence.
REGULARS
24 / LEAVING MUSIC AT THE
BORDER
Alison McGovern MP calls for an urgent rethink on the
government’s Brexit deal which is set to damage opportunities
for breakthrough musicians and industry professionals.
26 / GIVE THE AREA A VOICE
Ahead of its 50th anniversary, Stuart Miles O’Hara speaks to the
Scottie Press about community driven media and the importance
of working-class archiving.
28 / BAZAAR THOUGHTS
Anouska Liat and musician Ollie Cash take part in a course at the
Open Door Centre offering mental health support and strategies
for resilience and wellbeing.
34 / SERAFINE1369
Ahead of Liverpool Biennial, Matthew Berks speaks to the
performance artist about the body and notions of proximity.
The views expressed in Bido Lito! are those of the
respective contributors and do not necessarily
reflect the opinions of the magazine, its staff or the
publishers. All rights reserved.
8 / NEWS
10 / HOT PINK!
30 / SPOTLIGHT
35 / PREVIEWS
36 / REVIEWS
38 / ARTISTIC LICENCE
39 / FINAL SAY

NEWS
JOHN MOORES THE MERRIER
John Moores Painting Prize
Showcasing art in public spaces is currently a challenging
task. Thankfully, Walker Art Gallery are pressing ahead
with this year’s JOHN MOORES PAINTING PRIZE
exhibition in March. Over 67 artists work will disrupt,
celebrate and inspire the current British painting scene.
The five prize winners will be announced on 11th
February, with first place set be to be announced on
4th March. The variety of entries and jurors mean that
every iteration of the biennial prize exhibition is different
from the last, but in this event one message prevails:
in these uncertain times, art must come together. The
jurors for this year’s exhibition come from an array of
creative fields, with the panel featuring writer Jennifer
Higgie, artist Michelle Williams Gamaker and musician
Alison Goldfrapp. At the time of writing it is unsure when
the gallery exhibition will open, but a virtual tour will be
launched on 12th February.
ART AND SOUL
During the pandemic, it’s more important than
ever to support our local creatives. Luckily,
there’s a new community fund with a mission
to do just that. Created by Siubhán Macauley,
ART COLLECTION LIVERPOOL is a fundraiser
currently on the lookout for 500 donors to
put £1 into a community pot each week.
When this goal has been met, the donations
will benefit a selected artist in Liverpool.
The artist will be nominated by donors each
week, and can range from an individual to an
organisation or collective based in the city. If
you want to make sure your pocket change
creates a big impact, get involved, and help
Liverpool’s creatives thrive. artcollectionliver.
wixsite.com/acliv
VALLEY THE TROOPS
Netherley’s VALLEY COMMUNITY THEATRE is on
the hunt for new stories. The venue is currently
looking for short plays from promising writers
which will be performed as part of the 2021
Liverpool Fringe. Applications will be categorised
into two types of play: Open are plays that are still
searching for actors and a director to produce and
Oven-ready are plays that are already cast and can
be performed at the festival without help from the
theatre. Awards will be given out for best play, best
comedy and best actor. Submissions are open now,
with POC and LGBTQ+ writers especially welcome.
If you are a promising creative with a story to tell,
make sure to get your work in quickly, and let your
voice be heard. Email martin@valleytheatre.co.uk
for more details.
VOLUNTEER
OPPORTUNITIES
Award-winning charity the Open Door are looking
for volunteer mentors to join their team. The
innovative organisation, based out of Bloom Building
in Birkenhead, want compassionate and committed
people to help with their mental health programmes.
Proud to be a charity by young people, for young
people, ODC work on a membership format, helping
15 to 30-year-olds deal with feelings of anxiety, stress
or simply feeling low. The charity’s approach includes
Creative Therapeutic Support utilising different
activities within music and the arts to help members
address their mental health. Take a look on bidolito.
co.uk where mentors talk about their experiences
volunteering with ODC. opendoorcharity.com
Open Door Charity
STAY CREATIVE WITH SAE
That sense of momentum when we feel we are
producing our best work is truly special and can’t
be beaten. However, the antithesis of this is the
dreaded creative block. We’ve all been there.
Creative block causes us to project nothing but fear
onto the blank page. A session in the studio is an
expensive drain on our energy and time. It’s like
insomnia for ideas, the harder you try, the more your
muse eludes you. Over the last few weeks, SAE
Institute, in collaboration with Bido Lito!, has been
sharing top tips from Liverpool-based creatives on
how to help you beat the beast of creative block. Go
to bidolito.co.uk/staycreative to read the advice. SAE
Institute are hosting a virtual opening evening on
20th February when you can check out their worldbeating
facilities and meet their enthusiastic and
knowledgeable staff. sae.edu/
SAE
8

LGBT+ History Month
LGBT+ HISTORY MONTH AT NML
National Museums Liverpool has curated a special collection of exciting commissions online to mark this year’s LGBT+ history
month. The works document the history, lives and experiences of Liverpool’s community and include new poetry from local writer
FELIX MUFTI-WRIGHT, interviews with key figures from the community, Hidden Histories and an exploration of LGBT+ art history
involving the museums’ collections. Museum of Liverpool will also be celebrating keystone event House Of Suarez Vogue Ball with a
window display featuring a sweeping gown and headpiece specially commissioned for Liverpool River Festival 2019.
RIP IT UP
Rip It Up is a new bursary programme
providing a pathway for black, Asian
and diverse talent aged 18-25
wanting to get started in music.
Launched by Sound City, the initiative
will offer 10 candidates an in-depth
programme covering various aspects
of the industry, and feature paid-for
work placements, recording sessions
and release support. Mentored by
Seye Adelekan, Vanessa Bakewell and
Achal Dhillon alongside many more,
this is a prime opportunity for aspiring
professionals to get their name heard
and take the first steps into their
careers. Applications are now open
until 15th February. soundcity.uk.com
THE RETURN OF PMS
The Popular Music Show returned to
the airwaves in January in a new slot of
fortnightly Friday nights at 9pm on BBC
Radio Merseyside. The team, headed up by
long-time presenter Roger Hill, along with
numerous faces from Liverpool’s creative
scene, bring a delightfully eclectic mix of
provocative sounds from the city as well
as around the world. Bido Lito! joined in
for the first broadcast back after a Covidcaused
hiatus, with editor Elliot Ryder
providing a list of things to look forward
to this year. The show, now in its 45th
year, is accompanied by various mixes on
the show’s Mixcloud for further listening
delights. Tune in and show the team some
love.
Achal Dhillon
BYLINES
Want to write about the music, art
and culture you love? Following the
first programme of workshops at
the end of 2020, Bido Lito!’s writers’
course, Bylines, returns in April. The
programme takes a group of 16 to
25-year old aspiring writers through
the necessary skills required to be
a culture writer today. We also look
at the independent media industry,
the art of pitching and how Bido
Lito! magazine comes to fruition.
What’s more, successful participants
gain a bronze level arts award on
completing the course. If you are
interested, join the Bylines mailing
list at bit.ly/bidobylines.
NEWS 9

HOT PINK!
This month, additions to our hot pink! playlist include indie-club grooves, world beating grime, shimmering
pop and much more. We’re constantly adding to our mix of the best new sounds on Merseyside, but here is a
selection of artists to remind you of the talent waiting in the wings for when live shows can happen again.
Michael Aldag
Arrogance
You can’t help but root for the ginger kid. Arrogance is MICHAEL ALDAG’s latest electronica
anthem that delves into the unabashed confidence of youth with surprising self-awareness.
Backed by waling synths and an unstoppable beat, it’s a track meant for a screaming crowd, which
hopefully aren’t too far away. (LBE)
Koj
Mash Works
Warped piano samples introduce L8 rapper KOJ’s latest track. From there it’s Joseph Koja’s
irresistible flow that doesn’t stop for the next two minutes solid. There’s boasts, threats and
ambitions “smooth like clockwork”, accompanied by Recklaw Beats’ deep bass stabs from the
halfway point to the breathless finale. 2021 is all Koj’s. (ST)
Pixey
Electric Dream
Befitting the artist name, PIXEY’s music carries an unwavering ethereal energy. The singersongwriter’s
latest single on Chess Club Records, Electric Dream juxtaposes a thumping drumbeat
with dreamy harmonies, all while the artist sings about the intricacies of love and her own carefree
youth. What emerges is a track that feels all-encompassing and has a certain magic weaved into it.
(LBE)
TEE
Real
It’s been worth the wait for TEE to introduce himself properly. Leading on from last summer’s cover
feature, the multi-instrumentalist, spoken word artist and rapper has now released the first track
from his highly anticipated EP. Real is a definitive statement of intent and fast-paced highlight reel
of his full repertoire of abilities. Lulling you in with a soft, moonlit croon, the track explodes into life
and TEE shows off his deft touch for wordplay and impassioned lyricism. An artist fully realising the
height of their powers. (ER)
Bobhowla
Million $ Man
The Southport ensemble’s latest track mixes nostalgia and sobering themes. Using a mixture of
folk and indie elements, the song contrasts a charming backing with a frank discussion of facing a
long-lasting disability, to create a track that is compellingly intricate. It’s a single, released via Nine x
Nine Records, that necessitates multiple listens and holds promise for the group’s upcoming album.
(LBE)
Furry Hug
People Skills
You can’t help but smile when listening to People Skills. This latest single by FURRY HUG brings
with it a charming awkwardness as he chats away about his limited ability to interact with others,
joyously laced with retro synths and guitars reminiscent of Talking Heads. If this is the energy he is
bringing with his upcoming EP, we’re in for a treat. (LBE)
The Let Go
City Of Angels
This exciting transatlantic duo bring a slice of nocturnal LA with this track. The drum machine and
shimmering guitar melody is evocative of neon signs reflecting on windscreens and songwriters
on the move, listening to Haim and looking for a new adventure. Moving from Washington DC to
Merseyside, we hope THE LET GO find what they’re looking for in our city. (ST)
Jessica Luise
Nice Try
There’s a vulnerability to this joyous synth-laden track which gives it a cathartic edge, and makes
you want to hear more from the Warrington singer-songwriter. The driving War On Drugs tempo
propels a track that is clearly written to exorcise romantic demons, while delivering a bright and
beautiful guitar line to uplift the most locked down souls. (ST)
Portamento
Reaching Out (For A Friend)
The Liverpool/London producer’s latest effort is reminiscent of early Caribou with its rustic blend
of clean instrumentation and electronic tinged dancefloor grooves. While the sonic arrangement
harks back to Dan Snaith-style production circa 2007, its subject matter is much closer to 2021.
Produced back in April 2020, the single was borne out of a longing for human connection and
shared experience, a sensation that has been forcefully cut off since the onset of the pandemic.
Subtly building over the course of seven minutes, Reaching Out is beautifully cut of bottled energy
that gradually releases to heighten the longing to hear it spinning in a club under the disco ball.
(ER)
Cola Museum
Late Night Dreams (ft Dayzy)
If Late Night Dreams was a time of day, it would be 3am, with no thoughts of rest. Produced by
the enigmatic COLA MUSEUM, it feels wonderfully intimate, made so by the smooth guitar backing
and light percussion, with DAYZY’s uber-chilled-out flow adding to the charming elixir. It’s a song
that makes you feel like the rest of the world is asleep, and only you remain awake, bathing in the
music. (LBE)
Aystar
Scousematic 3
AYSTAR is one of the forebears of Liverpool’s now thriving rap and grime scene. But even with
the stature as one of the scene’s foundation stones, it hasn’t stopped him pulling up roots in the
contemporary era with one of the most recognisable flows in the game. The third instalment of his
mixtape series sees him reassert his dominance, offering up his biggest collection of tracks to date.
Even with heavy hitters like Giggs featuring, the Scouse emcee’s poise and finesse remains the
central draw and is sharp as ever. (ER)
Words: Lily Blakeney-Edwards, Sam Turner, Elliot Ryder
Photography from left to right: Pixey (Zac Mahrouche), TEE (Tamiym
Cader), Michael Aldag (Robin Clewley).
Follow hot pink! on Spotify: bit.ly/bidohotpink
10

COME
I N
FROM
THE
COLD
Wide open roads and empty spaces, King Hannah’s debut EP is an apt
reflection of the times we live in. But where we might be currently faced
with empty feelings and separation, theirs is a welcome solemnness
of cinematic travel and discovery, as Tara Dalton learns.
FEATURE
11

12
“We wanted to
take people to
wide open spaces
or empty roads”

When KING HANNAH first spoke to Bido Lito! just over three
years ago, there was a sense time was of the essence. “We
need to get a wriggle on” was the lasting remark from a
conversation undertaken at the beginning of their journey.
With no releases under their belt at that point in time – drawing attention
through a number of live performances that seemed to levitate in soft haze –
the duo’s response left a lot to ponder about what lay ahead. There was quite
a lot to dissect.
Speaking today, that sense of urgency has dissipated. Things are far more
relaxed than their parting remarks suggested back in 2017. Perhaps in part
due to the material they’ve now released into the world. It’s rubbing off on
their demeanour, anyway. Currently, the pairing of Hannah Merrick (vocals/
guitar) and Craig Whittle (guitar) sit on the other end of the phone line,
avidly debating which mixer best describes their sound. “Something crazy!
What about whiskey, it’s good and old-fashioned?” “It’s got to be paired with
something edgy, like Rola Cola,” they chatter to one another. “What about
gin?” “No, we don’t like gin.”
Over the last three years, the Rola Cola pairing have piqued interest
albeit with a guarded approach. Until 2020 they’d only shared their material
on stage and through the Chinese whispers of gig-goers. The drip feeding,
however, certainly whetted the appetite of those in the know. It’s led them
on the rise to a revered level of recognition in circles across the city – even
catching the attention of staunch songstress Sharon Van Etten.
Talking today, it isn’t just their music that grabs my attention. Behind the
dense sheets of atmosphere that line their sound, King Hannah are stripped
bare and down to earth, cracking jokes over their lockdown obsession with
Mindhunter’s Bill Tench (so much so they’ve named a song after him). “I just
love his handshake, I just want a handshake from him,” chuckles Merrick, with
Whittle at the ready to say the same. Finishing each other’s sentences is one
of the pair’s noticeable character traits.
If they had once given off a sense of urgency, their own story is one that’s
organically taken root at a gentle pace. While most artists’ stories begin with
a simple encounter; a bump in the street, a friend of a friend, or the luckiest
of them all, being related, King Hannah have an origin straight from the big
screen. Whittle had actually watched Merrick perform years before their first
encounter, but the two didn’t officially meet until Merrick was assigned to train
him in a bar he started working at.
“I recognised her straight away, and I knew that she was great, but it
dawned on me that she had no idea who I was,” Whittle explains. “She didn’t
have a frame of reference for me, so when I said, ‘Let’s start making music’,
it definitely took a bit of faith from Hannah to trust me.” His pestering soon
worked, and the duo began spending the hours before work playing music
together at Whittle’s house.
A silver screen happy ending so far, but their narrative arc wasn’t entirely
straight and narrow. At first, Merrick admits, she didn’t have the confidence
to open up about her songs. But as the pair blossomed together, her comfort
zone became the circle of King Hannah – a shared aura that drips with the
suspended, timeless atmosphere of the music.
FEATURE
13

Theirs is a smoky sound, layering vocals over a pensive guitar. It creates a moody instrumental perfect for these winter
days. It’s controlled, woozy and at times, chaotic. The emotive spectrum of their music keeps you on your toes. Injecting
the dark mood from the dark world around them, the tracks are littered with lyrics that are as grounded as the artists
themselves.
While there is literally an I in King Hannah, metaphorically it’s a different story. The writing process is a joint effort
as the lyrics and the sound unfurl together, all at once. Carefully weaved into each beat is a sense of ‘us’, with Merrick’s
admiration for Courtney Barnett’s storytelling and Whittle’s country-rock influence from the Silver Jews coming together
to form their signature royal sound.
“We always say that you’ve got to tell your story in your own little way,” Merrick mentions, unravelling the heart
on her sonic sleeve to me. It isn’t enough to tell a story in her opinion, but to take the listener along for the ride. “I was
listening to the new Angel Olsen album and there’s a song where she makes a mistake and I think that’s encouraging
because it is its own personal take. It’s got its own character, y’know, and that really struck me,” she says. “As long as
you can make someone feel something, that’s all we can ask for.”
While I can’t see their faces over the at times shaky line, you can hear the determination in their voices. This
determination carries over to uncompromised approach to releasing their music. In the days of streaming, most
upcoming artists attempt to burst onto the scene with something short and snappy – to catch people’s attention.
For King Hannah? Well, their first introduction to the world was with the six-minute brooding track Crème Brûlée, a
slow-burning ballad wrapped in moody tones and shimmering guitar. “That’s why we’ve been such slow wrigglers,”
Whittle chuckles over the phone. “We don’t want to be releasing tracks constantly that aren’t at their best, because
then we will have wasted our opportunity. The length of the song never even crossed our mind once, because we
made something that we were proud of and that lived up to our expectations.”
“Exactly,” Merrick responds, “and if anything, we’ve broken our six-minute record with a seven-minute track
on our EP, so it’s bound to happen again.”
But waste an opportunity they did not, with Crème Brûlée piquing international interest and falling into the
lap of Berlin-based independent record label City Slang, who promptly signed the pair in September. However,
when the label expressed their eager interest to hear more, it hit King Hannah that, while they had created
melodies and mixes, their desires to create a track to the highest standards meant they had no other concrete
tunes to deliver.
Revelling in their polished cutting room of tracks, the pair began knuckling down and focused on
showcasing their potential. “We wanted to show we can’t just make a song,” replies Merrick, “we can make
a project, and that’s how the EP came about.”
The day that we talk, coincidentally, is the morning of the release of their debut EP, Tell Me Your Mind
and I’ll Tell You Mine. Or, as Merrick regards it “a more Christmassy day than Christmas”.
In its 30-minute runtime, it gives you a multi-textured thrill, again taking the story of King Hannah to
the big screen through the cinematic scope of directors from the 60s and 70s. “The warm romantic kind
of black and white, not that harsh black and white,” Merrick illustrates.
“There’s just something about the saturation that gets me.”
“It was a conscious development to make each song play like a
chapter,” Whittle says, taking me page by page through the EP.
And Then out of Nowhere, It Rained is the introduction slowly
pulling you in. Meal Deal sets the scene, Bill Tench is the dramatic plot
twist, Crème Brûlée the lovers’ quarrel, and The Sea Has Stretch Marks is
when the heroes conquer. Swiftly, Reprise (Moving Day) closes the book
in your face, leaving you to sit and think, ‘Well, what do I do now?’ The
only answer seems to be press play again.
It’s not just the drive of the tracks, but the lo-fi essence woven into
the EP that makes it stand out. Whittle’s signature guitar work makes
for a continuous moody hum that buzzes throughout, building into
the cacophony of spirits that spring to life in the final track. “We really
wanted to play with the dynamics and pace and create this sort of mess,
sort of celebration,” he notes. “Making three or four songs that were
really different but came together to exist as a whole was a main goal for
us. You can’t affect how people engage with it, but we wanted to make
something completely open for the journey.”
King Hannah strive to sonically paint a picture as you listen. Tell
Me Your Mind and I’ll Tell You Mine is the EP that plays as Scottie walks
through his Technicolor nightmare in Vertigo; as the Lady in the Radiator softly swoons in
Eraserhead; as Janet Leigh whips to scream at the camera in Psycho. Encapsulating the
surreal in the real, it is an out of body listen like no other.
But, while the whirling instrumentation can take you somewhere old, as Craig points
out, it has the power to take you somewhere new and somewhere so empty. “We
wanted to take people to wide open spaces or empty roads. I think that’s why the songs
are subconsciously longer is because we have more time to sort of get lost and be
transported,” he illustrates.
If there’s one thing this lockdown has been beneficial for, it’s been in providing
the tone of being alone. The social distancing between artist and studio led to some
‘outside the box’ creativity for King Hannah, taking the reins of the situation and using
it to their full advantage.
“A lot of the EP was mixed over Zoom with Ted White, who is also a member of
the band, which gives it that sort of separation. I was using this microphone I’ve had
since I was 14, because Ted’s got all the good stuff and I’ve got all the cheap stuff,”
Whittle explains.
“The Sea Has Stretch Marks was actually recorded in Craig’s bedroom,” Merrick
adds. “So, I suppose that’s not ideal, but having lockdown forces you to think
differently.”
“It’s funny because you record all these things with high-end expensive stuff
and then you spend a lot of time trying to dirty it up to make it sound ‘bad’,”
Whittle ponders, with a good sense of humour, joking about maybe sticking
with the cheap stuff from here.
Behind it all, their music may be a vehicle to take you wherever you want to
go, but Merrick admits it will always lead you back to Liverpool. Coming from
a small village in Wales to living on and off in Liverpool, to her, the city played
a big part in the influences that mingled in to the EP. “I think because it’s a
port town with so many people mixing, you just become open to so many
different experiences and people. How can’t that be influential, you know?”
‘Slow but steady wins the race’ is a phrase that I’ve found to be
synonymous with King Hannah. Slow wrigglers and slow burning
delights, they know exactly what they want in their sound, and will work
countlessly to perfect it – even clocking in the hours on Zoom. This first
introduction to the world was a meeting worth waiting for. They have an
enchanting EP to make up for the time, taking you on a journey until their
sequel, their next anticipated return. I guess they were right from the off,
they do have a slight whiskey flavour to them, spacious and rich, with
each tune a small sip until you’re left cinematically spaced. !
Words: Tara Dalton / @Tistaradee
Photography: Lucy McLachlan / @Lucy_Alexandra
“You’ve got to
tell your story
in your own
little way”
Tell Me Your Mind And I’ll Tell You Mine is out now via City Slang
@kinghannahmusic
14

FEATURE
15

SOUNDS
SIMILAR T O
BEFORE
16

In October, Bido Lito! and University of Liverpool concluded the first phase of its Playing In research project
by following up the musicians’ survey with a digital, sector-wide public consultation. The event took place
at the height of Liverpool’s Tier 3 status, with attitudes and optimism coming to reflect much of the situation
we have since returned to in early 2021. Looking back at the points of discussion, Will Whitby highlights the
dominant themes of funding and the plight of Liverpool’s venues trying to operate in testing times.
The Playing In study started June last year when the first
lockdown was only 10 weeks in and the music industry
was full of confusion and dread. Equally, there was also
a strong sense of optimism regarding future plans, yet
hindsight would now view this as naive. Over 11 months have
passed since the first lockdown and the numb sense of disparity,
loss and déjà vu is hard to ignore as life traverses seemingly
between one lockdown to another. The return of the live music
we love still feels so far away.
There had been some levels of optimism that late summer of
2020 would mark a partial return for live music, but in Liverpool
especially these ideas were quickly wiped out as the pandemic
reared its head for the second time in September, leading to Tier
3 and eventual lockdown.
In late October we continued our research by holding a
music industry consultation event over Zoom to help collect more
data and let musicians, industry figures and audience members
express their individual emotions and thoughts on the past year
and the future. We discussed a number of topics as we tried
to best understand the fate and feeling among Liverpool City
Region music communities.
Although the consultation happened some months ago in
October, when Liverpool was first thrust into Tier 3, the situation
surrounding live music in the City Region has returned to that
level of stasis following a partial release in December. Stages are
once again silent and industry professionals are still not working,
with greater apprehension towards the possibilities 2021 will
offer.
During the event, conversations centred on venues and their
inability to meet their usual offer and experience due to ongoing
social distancing measures. For a number of weeks during the
summer, spaces like 24 Kitchen Street were allowed to welcome
people in. However, strict rules grew tighter as the city moved
towards Tier 3. Ensuring attendees adhered to the rules led
to staff frustration when marshalling events, even leading to
feelings of assuming new roles as the “fun police”. Just by this
one example, we can see that the strict, yet necessary rules
expected of hospitality spaces to ensure they are Covid-safe
massively diminished the experience of ‘going out’.
The expectation on venues to stay clean, limit capacity,
enforce social distancing, keep up on track and trace, keep noise
at cafe levels of volume and the questionable 10pm curfew
crippled hospitality and events. The more restrictions that are
set upon the industry the more it eliminates the unique audience
escapism that live music can offer. “[Events] are meant to be
escapism,” said one participant. “The more parameters you put
on that experience, the more deterrents you put on people, the
less likely it’s going to reflect that experience of what it was
before.”
When allowed to open, every venue is striving to create
the most Covid-safe environment possible. However, we heard
that it’s near impossible to control everyone in the building.
The lack of control over the individual and fear of catching
Covid-19 deterred vast swathes of potential customers from
attending these spaces. To illustrate the worry and uncertainty,
we heard the story of an event in March 2020 which sold 360
tickets in advance only to have 16 people turn up due to the
fear of the virus. Even prior to the onset of lockdown, the public
mood suggested large sections of audiences didn’t feel safe,
highlighting the added hurdle for venues and promoters to
attract these people back.
The constant uncertainty from month to month has crippled
any ability for a venue to plan ahead effectively. The Independent
Venue Week shows that Future Yard in Birkenhead announced
for the end of January were quickly swept away as lockdown
three emerged in the new year. Months of planning to get
live music back safely to a new venue was again ruled out. In
addition, there remains no concrete knowledge of when further
shows or rescheduled shows can take place.
Looking back at 2020, as picked up from the responses
at the consultation, we saw the positivity ebb and flow as we
exited summer with some optimism. The constant rearranging of
tour dates has seen some shows booked for last spring pushed
back unsuccessfully into autumn, then to 2021, with others now
pencilled in for 2022. These continued cancellations have eroded
the confidence of audiences to buy tickets and many promoters
and venues have seen ticket sales flatline to zero. One promoter
added: “[There’s] a complete lack of confidence in when things
are going to go back to normal. Things have changed so much
over the last six months that if shows have been rescheduled,
people might not believe that the new date is going to stick.”
This is devastating for promoters, venues and artists as
ticket sales are a key revenue stream to keep the doors open and
the staff paid. We heard in the consultation that one venue didn’t
take any payment for themselves for a socially distanced show
in October, just to support the artist. This is very charitable, but
completely unsustainable.
The consultation touched on proprietors’ – particularly
venue owners and promoters – relationships with how they are
finding the funding and money to stay afloat. We heard many
promoters, freelancers and musicians in the city outline how
they didn’t reach the requirements to get furlough, so spent the
months without any reliable income; 97 per cent of electronic
and club orientated promoters received nothing in the way of
funding.
A variety of music organisations and charities like Help
Musicians, PRS, Music Venue Trust and more set up funds and
pots of money to help support musicians, businesses and venues
that needed it during the lockdown. The largest organisation to
do so was Arts Council England who allowed people to apply
from £25,000 to £3million in support funding.
For some present at the consultation, including Bido Lito!,
the first round of Cultural Recovery Funding from ACE was
secured in October last year to help fund activity up until March
2021. The second round of funding applications closed at the
end of January 2021, with organisations invited to bid for grants
to cover shortfall between the period of April to June.
According to some attendees, the application process
for CRF was not straightforward. This has led to many arts
organisations, including the LCR Music Board, offer support to
people who are filing bids for the first time so that anyone who
needs to apply for funding isn’t restricted due to bureaucratic
confusion.
For the first round of funding grants, applicants had to justify
what the money was going towards. For many, the aims for
the funding were as simple as
paying the wages of the staff,
but few could offer a tangible
and successful programme
of events that the money
“Those with the history
of receiving more
funding did indeed get
more funding”
could go towards. The notion
of something having to be
commercially viable to attain
funding hit a nerve with many
at the consultation, deeming it
unfair to not support the parts
of the arts sector due to the
commercial aspects of their
model.
For those who didn’t get
funding, there was a hope for
a trickle-down effect as money
set for socially distanced shows
that didn’t take place should be used to support promoters and
the supply chain. This approach will have helped those unable
to receive income support like furlough. However, it relies on
ringfenced pots of money to be handed out by the recipients. A
tour manager at the consultation lamented: “All my mates are
devastated. They just don’t have any work. No crew, no tours, no
support, nothing. They’re just sitting there watching.”
As we enter the next funding cycle it must be said that, if
the doors stay closed on music venues for an extended period
of time, venues should be allowed to simply use this round of
funding as a buoyancy aid to stay afloat in these trying times. Yet
another stark admission was that the longer the lack of normal
live activity continues, the less effective funding is at plugging
the gaps.
Lockdown was something of a revelation for art spaces,
as some found out for the first time the extent of funding pots
available, with many now considering using these as an avenue
of revenue for future financial plans. However, to reflect on the
data from our first survey, many creatives in the city didn’t think
the funds were for them, didn’t have the knowledge to fill out the
complex forms or were unaware of the support available.
This again is reflected in the funding distribution across the
City Region, as from the first round of granted culture recovery
funds classical music venues like the Philharmonic received
considerably more money than most Liverpool City Region music
led venues. It can be inferred that The Philharmonic has the
largest infrastructure and a more logistically complex programme
than any other contemporary music venue in the city, and
therefore justifiably requires a high amount of support funding.
The largest amount granted to a creative business in the
Liverpool City Region was the M&S Bank Arena and ACC Group,
which received £2.97 million in the way of support. This was
the second highest amount of money given to a creative entity
nationwide, only bested by the Birmingham Hippodrome which
received the maximum £3million. The arena is somewhat of
an anomaly in these considerations as the massive space has
sizeable operation costs and reaches beyond music in their
programming with large sporting and business events, as well
as multiple conventions every year. It has also been a key venue
in the virus testing and vaccination process in the city. However,
this still produces somewhat of a paradox, as those with the
history of receiving more funding did indeed get more funding.
It’s an outcome that again highlights the disparity between
professional and recreational organisations.
So, what are the solutions? Looking ahead to the summer
of 2021, the number one priority is rolling out the vaccines to
as many people as possible as quickly as possible. But as we’ve
seen with Glastonbury cancelling their 2021 festival, it’s likely
too late to save another full British festival summer schedule. Yet
some hope remains for smaller scale events.
As the vaccination programme moves from vulnerable
groups to the lower age bracket, younger people in the country
are going to be the last to receive vaccines. It is estimated that
people under 35 might not get the vaccine until autumn 2021,
or even 2022 if the roll out fails to meet targets. For a festival
to host thousands of younger people this summer, without
restrictions and regulations on mixing, then limiting the spread of
the new virus strains looks unfeasible.
While a lot of consultation discourse reflected the
unprecedented challenges of the past 11 months, there
remained a desire to adapt and meet the demands of continuing
limitations. Ideas to support Liverpool’s music sector were
discussed, with the main focus highlighting changes to the
culture of how we value music, musicians, industry professionals
and the industry itself.
When we eventually move beyond restrictions, it was said
that audiences need to support venues and artists better than
we did before, pre-Covid-19. The abundance of “guest list
culture” needs to cease if we are to properly benefit our artists
and venues. By way of comparison,
you wouldn’t go to a restaurant
and ask for a free meal or go to a
pub for a free pint, so why does
there remain expectation to get
into a gig for free on the guestlist?
Artists play live shows as their job.
Promoters and venue owners put
on shows because it is their job.
All parties deserve to be fairly
paid. The notion that live music is
a hobby is damaging. In viewing
it through this prism some people
don’t see and recognise the true
value of the service and experience
they’re receiving. We as an
audience need to acknowledge this
better. For a music scene and city
to grow we need to invest in it.
Also highlighted within the consultation was the idea of
venues offering a membership scheme. Through this, audience
members would subscribe to and support the venue with
monthly or periodic fees which offer them benefits such a
presale access to tickets. It would also underpin the knowledge
that their support is contributing to the health of the venue.
Schemes like this have the potential to make audiences value
venues in a greater sense and make them appreciate the hard
work that goes into facilitating their night out.
This is an idea already being backed by South Liverpool
Arts Collective Wavertree Worldwide. For £5 a month audience
members help fund events, pay artists and support their venue,
Smithdown Social Club. In their own optimistic words: “As the
memberships grow, the parties can, too.”
Liverpool is a city recognised internationally for its musical
communities. For the most part they have all been forced to fall
silent for 11 months. The consultation revealed that, although
venue doors might be shut and the stages quiet, the drive and
desire to get back out there is still as prevalent as ever. For now,
though, the only certainty is uncertainty. As 2021 continues,
we must learn from a year of great disruption and be willing to
adapt. Hang in there. !
Words: Will Whitby / @WillyWhitby
Lead researchers and data analysis: Dr Mathew Flynn & Richard
Anderson, University of Liverpool
Illustration: Esmée Finlay / @efinlayillustration
Due to ethical considerations for the research, all participants’
responses from the consultation event have been anonymised.
The recipients of the latest round of CRF funding is due to be
announced in early March.
FEATURE
17

LONESAW
The industrial collective fast acquired a reputation as the most intense live act on the local scene. Bolstering
that reputation with debut single Barbed Wire Church and now on their debut EP, Stephen Lewin virtually
sits down with the group to discuss cults, the plight of live venues and potato babies.
A
quick glance at the foreboding visual component of
LONESAW’s work and one would not anticipate the
cheery and accommodating reception that greets
me at the other end of the Zoom tunnel. The group
are even kind enough to look past the fact that an ailing laptop
camera has rendered me a glitchy, vaporwave blob.
In attendance are lyricist and frontperson Ben Bones,
saxophonist Jezebel Halewood-Legas, electronics man
Christopher Connor and bassist Brad Malbon. Jon Stonehouse,
director of the video for Barbed Wire Church, takes the place of
absent drummer, Lisa Fawcett, for today’s interview.
Lonesaw’s music would, broadly speaking, fit under the
umbrella of industrial; a genre defined by its machine-like
rhythms and cold, dark tones. And, while the group concede
that bands such as Throbbing Gristle, Einstürzende Neubauten
and Cabaret Voltaire have contributed to their style, once again,
the notion of Lonesaw as broody pessimists is very quickly
discredited. “We fucking love ABBA!” confesses Bones. Connor is
keen to elaborate: “A lot of our songs actually do follow traditional
pop structures, but not necessarily intentionally.” Bones describes
how these unintentional pop structures were wrought from the
“utter chaos” that typified the band’s initial sessions. With the
addition of sometime Uncle Jane drummer Fawcett, the group’s
sound morphed from what the lyricist describes as “straight
noise” and “simple pulses” to “more of a band sound”.
Upon hearing tracks from the bands forthcoming EP, the
singer’s assessment rings true. In contrast to their debut release,
the studio recordings feel more concise and structured, yet not
necessarily softened as the word “pop” might imply. Produced,
in part, in a.P.A.t.T. ringleader Stephen Cole’s What Studio, the
four songs we are granted access to are rendered possibly more
malicious through their precision.
Leash is one of the tracks reprised from the live session.
The studio redux is a claustrophobic affair in which squalling
saxophones punctuate the percussive skitter of the drummachine.
The group acknowledge that, while lyrically the song
has a “BDSM vibe” (the line “crawl for the leash” being an
obvious example), the interpretation could be broader than the
imagery suggests.
Another standout, Man In A Burning World, was written
at the time of the George Floyd murder. “That was a kind of
reactionary thing,” says Ben. “We were all just in the flat going
a bit mad and the drum machine was there,” he continues,
inferring that the frustration and anger felt by the group at that
time was borne out through the song’s “slamming kick drums”.
Consequently, the track sees Lonesaw at their most Front 242;
a pummelling metallic march which bounds relentlessly towards
the cacophonous oblivion at its end.
In contrast, Yet I Am provides some sort of respite. Erring
on the side of subtly unnerving rather than head-on terrifying,
the song is a mutating mass of musique concrète, sculpted
around an improvised pattern. Halewood-Legas elaborates on
the spontaneous element of the band’s writing process on a
track like this, explaining that there is always “one element” from
which the band develop the core of the song, “whether it’s a
certain sound or keyboard”.
To some ears Barbed Wire Church, the track which precedes
the EP, is an odd choice of single. The song is an intense fiveminute
recitation, so musically minimalist as to give Suicide a run
for their money. “We’ve always made decisions, but maybe not
the right decisions for [our] career,” states Bones, addressing this
wilful act of, what some might consider, self-sabotage. “They are
the right decisions for us,” he continues, “we’re not doing this for
anyone other than ourselves.”
The song’s video director, Jon Stonehouse, is also quick to
defend the decision. “It was exciting to be working for a song
that was not a single,” he enthuses, “the fact that they have had
the audacity to call it a single is what makes it art.”
Waiting until the video could be released in tandem with
this unlikely single was another part of Lonesaw’s masterplan.
“I didn’t want to release it and it be forgotten about,” Bones
explains, describing the group’s desire to make a statement with
the coordinated release.
The result is most certainly a statement. Stonehouse’s
accompanying visuals blend glitching iconography with footage
of the band deep in the throes of a ritual. The filmmaker cites
his own experience with what he says “you might call a cult”
as having a sizeable influence on his and the group’s creative
choices when making the video. He talks with enthusiasm about
the elements of spiritualism and esotericism in the piece, but
also discusses how, having left the organisation, he “wanted to
18

communicate [his] disdain with that order”.
Although there is no love lost between the director and that
particular group of spiritualist practitioners, he and Lonesaw,
appear respectful of the practice itself. The video to Barbed Wire
Church was a partial recreation of an actual ritual performed by
Stonehouse and the band. According to the filmmaker, it was an
act designed to put “intent” into the piece. He elaborates: “We
realised we were playing with archetypal themes of the occult
and thought it would be unfair to force it to be pretence.”
It’s at this point in the conversation that the subject of the
“potato baby” is raised. Halewood-Legas excitedly bounds off to
retrieve what I am informed by Stonehouse is a talisman created
during the ritual. When she returns, I am introduced to a vaguely
humanoid bundle of what appears to be stuffed sackcloth or
stockings; its pained facial expression unsettlingly lifelike. “I
won’t have anything bad said about him,” warns Halewood-
Legas. Everything starts to feel a little David Lynch.
There is, of course, a tongue-in-cheek air to all of this, and,
although respectful of the adopted symbolism, in conversation,
Lonesaw come across as personable and unpretentious. There
is also an aspect of altruism in the band’s outlook, particularly
in the approach to running their QUARRY venue. “We would
love for it to be a hub for likeminded creative people,” remarks
Connor, “but also wouldn’t want to restrict the space for other
people who have an interest in other kinds of music.” Bones
is also keen to discuss the venue as a welcoming space for a
broad variety of artists and events. “You can have a gallery show,
performance art, comedy show, drag nights,” he says. “It’s a clear
space for people to come and do stuff and, that hopefully, will
breed a new hub.”
In the midst of the current pandemic, the outlook for live
venues across the city is, at best, uncertain. Yet Lonesaw seem
to retain a calm optimism regarding the fate of QUARRY. “It’s
waiting in the wings,” states Bones referring to the viability of
reopening the venue. “We are totally independent, so it’s mainly
our money and the people that come and buy tickets at the bar,
so it’s when it’s safe enough that we can get enough people in.”
Until then, the band can look forward to the release of the
EP, Lay In The Salt Of The Soil. Having had its release date
amended due to lockdown restrictions, with Connor noting it will
come out when “the time is right”, the band has decided to press
on with its release this February, albeit without a launch show
that was pencilled in. It’s another thing we can look forward to,
at least. For now, we can be thankful for more brutally beautiful
sounds, volatile performances and profoundly disturbing mascots
from the Lonesaw camp. !
Words: Stephen Lewin
Photography: Courtesy of Lonesaw
Lay In The Salt Of The Soil is available from 28th February via
SPINE Records.
lonesaw.bandcamp.com
“We’re not doing
this for anyone
other than
ourselves”
FEATURE
19

HANNAH’S
LITTLE SISTER
Finding home comforts in a riotous, oddball world of their own creation, Lily Blakeney-Edwards
zeros in on the band that have found their sound and success by staying true to themselves.
20

Meg Grooters sits centre screen on our Zoom call.
Surrounded by home comforts, she’s telling me
about her life amid Covid. It’s a cold, digital set-up
that has the potential to be impersonal, but Meg
instantly eases any awkwardness as she spouts off stories about
living with her ex mid-pandemic, and her eventual move to her
eight-person household. Guitarist Ashley Snook pops up on the
screen and joins the conversation.
Equally charismatic, he chats away about new jobs and a
general feeling of lockdown déjà vu. Meg offers up a comment
on the freshly painted lime green walls he’s encased in. “You
painted your house green!” Meg points out with a laugh. “Not the
whole house, Meg,” he fires back, the two reverberating off each
other with ease.
Even through the static of an
online call, there’s an air of mischief
that sits between the two bandmates
– one reminiscent of the sound
HANNAH’S LITTLE SISTER have been
playfully dishing out over the last few
years. “We just bring out a side in each
other that brings out weirdness,” Meg
tells me with a grin. Ashley agrees.
“We just try to make each other laugh.
That’s what this started as, and slowly
got more severe.”
Made up of Grooters, Snook and
fellow members Nina Himmelreich
and Will Brown, Hannah’s Little
Sister’s oddball persona is deliberately
extreme, but comfortably sits on the back of the group’s riotous
sound. Founded while at university, the group have been turning
heads with their misfit inspired music ever since their formation.
They became staples of the Liverpool live scene and collected a
die-hard fanbase in the process – all while only having a single
recorded track to share.
“We just got so lucky. Things really snowballed for us in
terms of gigs, and I think because playing live really works with
our sound, focusing on gigs at the start made a lot of sense,”
Meg admits, when asked about the group’s beginnings. “Not
overstretching yourself is also a massive tip we learnt when we
were first gigging,” Ashley adds. “And avoiding stuff that doesn’t
make you happy, make you money or make your fans happy,”
Meg agrees.
However, despite being surrounded by a myriad of musicians
when starting out, the group soon found that their district flavour
set them apart from their fellow bands. “Personally, I think
that when we were coming up, it was clear that we were very
different to who we were around, sound and style wise,” Ashley
contends. “Other people’s style was what we weren’t, because
no-one around us was really doing heavier indie, or the wailyscreamy
kind of stuff we do.”
To say Hannah’s Little Sister produce a unique sound is
something of an understatement. With thrashing guitar riffs and
yelping vocals, their music feels worlds away from any particular
genre, pulling from a range of inspirations such as 00s pop-punk,
to 80s synth wave. It’s a style that cannot be entrapped, but the
band feel comfortable with their ungroundable sound.
“We’ve tried to come up with so many different ways to
“I’m just hiding the
fact I’m secretly
serious”
describe our sound without putting a distinct genre on it. I don’t
think ‘genres’ really exist in a linear sense any more, especially
for us,” Meg tells me, with a pause. “We’ve all got such different
tastes, that all comes into play in how our music ends up
sounding, so it’s hard to pin it down to one particular sound. If
people want a substantial definition, the best we’ve come up
with is ‘a bombastic racket for people who like to smack it’,” she
adds humorously in her Lancashire drawl.
Ashley chimes in: “We were so worried when we put that in
the press releases. We were like, ‘Is that offensive?’” They both
laugh in sync. “I had to double check I knew what bombastic
means!” she smiles back.
A lot of the band’s success to date owes much to their
first single 20, a ground shaking punk anthem that seemed to
capture the anxieties and excitement
that come with being thrown into
adulthood and having newfound
freedom. It’s been over two years
since the track was released and the
group recently made a triumphant
return with their debut EP, EP.mp3.
Despite the gap in releases, the
band seems to feel that the new
tunes will serve as a reintroduction.
“We’ve been sitting on these
tunes for a few years now. It’s an
introduction to us, because these
tracks are the first stuff that we’ve
done together,” Meg tells me. “I don’t
really know what people will take
from the EP. I mean, I hope people like it, but to think about what
people should get from listening to it is quite a heavy burden on
your brain. I just hope people have fun.”
It’s a hurricane from start to finish. From track to track,
the group push their clutter-filled sound to its very limits, with
tunes ranging from explosive anthems with walls of sound, to
softer minimalistic tracks that contain a frantic energy in each
pulsating beat. Highlights of the works include Bin Mouth and
Anywhere. Energetic and exciting, Bin Mouth feels like a frantic
explosion of accusatory chatter, with the group’s laughing and
conversations with each other being layered over the repeated
line “What ya being a bin mouth for?” Anywhere, on the other
hand, plays with contrast, with pulsating vocals and dreamy
synth noise juxtaposed with venomous guitar melodies and
standout basslines. The album needs repeated listens for the
mix of sounds to be analysed in full. The listener’s attention will
certainly be drawn to the complex make-up.
“When the first single came out, I had the wrong idea of
the type of person who’d enjoy it,” Meg confesses. “Even people
like my piano teacher, who’s a proper fancy classical lady,
absolutely fucking loves it. I think that’s so cool. It relates back to
trying to predict what people will get out of it, I think it’s kind of
impossible.”
It’s somewhat surprising to learn that the purveyors of
such wiry tracks dabble in classical piano, but the appeal is a
testament to the band’s infectious nature. “I think we speak to
the weird side of 80s pop that people like my mum would have
grown up with,” Ashley continues, “so even though she’s the
type of person now to listen to BBC Radio 1, she also really likes
our sound.” He pauses. “That’s my mission, really, to get the
fucking parents into our tunes. Or to be on a Now That’s What I
Call Music! That’s the dream.”
But don’t be deceived. Despite the chaotic nature of
the band’s tracks, there’s method in the madness. Among
the whirlwind of sound, the lyrical subject matter remains
refreshingly grounded. The stomper Gum focuses on the
bombardment of consumerism we face daily, while Payday
Junkie dealing with the tedious existence of a dead-end job.
They feel like a treasure to discover among the noise, adding
yet another layer to the intricate tracks. “It’s a pretty intentional
choice,” Meg giggles when asked about her reality-inducing
lyrics. “When I start writing, I get such a clear idea of the things
that bother me, especially in terms of our society. I have a bit
of a chip on my shoulder as well.” She hesitates for a moment.
“When I came to university, I was much more focused on folk
music, but the lyrics I was writing then were much lighter than
the stuff I write now. When I started messing around with stuff
for the band, it inspired different types of lyrics on much broader
issues.
“With Gum, for example, I like that the sound is really
chaotic, because it fits really well with the subject I was trying
to write about. The combination is like a big dopamine hit. So, I
think our lyrics are a secret way of sneaking a more important
message into our songs. I’m just hiding the fact I’m secretly
serious,” she splutters. “You don’t need to hide it though because
you’re good at it,” Ashley reminds her, “that’s what really
separates us from the other acts, I think. Oof, that was a bit of an
internal compliment.”
Even though 2020 was a success for the group in terms of
releasing music, they are still dealing with the gaping hole that
the cancellation of live music has left in Liverpool. As venue
doors shut, and gigs are forced online, the wish to return to
performing grows ever more prominent. “I miss playing music,
and everyone so much, it feels like it’s gone from my life at the
moment,” Ashley admits. “I also feel like us just hanging out…
it’s a huge part of what makes up the band, what we get out of
it, and what comes across. I think not having that, I feel like it’s
been a big hit,” Meg ponders. “I’m so scared of [gigging], but I
really miss it at the moment.” It’s a confession that spurs delight
in her bandmate. “She’s finally admitted it!” Ashley teases. “Well,
it’s a big thing that we all do together, so it’s definitely been
something that’s been impacted,” she responds with a grin.
The absence of live music has not dampened the group’s
spirits, and despite the uncertainty in the air, the band are still
looking to the future. “Hmm… making more music would be nice,”
Meg admits when asked of the group’s aspirations for 2021.
Ashley is on the same page. “Yeah, just to keep making more
music, it would be nice to just carry on.” It’s a sentiment filled
with expected uncertainty, but with their collection of odditypowered
anthems, the group seem on track to skyrocket. !
Words: Lily Blakeney-Edwards / @lilyhbee
Photography: Beebo Boobin
EP.mp3 is available now via Heist Or Hit Records
hannahslttlsstr.bandcamp.com
FEATURE
21

Department of Music,
Media and Performance
LOVE MUSIC?
LOVE WRITING?
Combine your passions with with a BA (Hons) in Music Journalism
Music professionals are involved at
every stage of this degree which
focuses on real-world experiences
in music writing. Students have
undertaken placements at Mojo
and Mixmag and graduates
have gone on to work at
Kerrang! and the BBC.
Open For
Applications
For 2021 Entry
chester.ac.uk

KOUSIC SEN
The master tabla player and current artist in residence at Milapfest speaks to Jamie Bowman about his
journey, practice and the similarities between Kolkata and Liverpool.
There’s no doubting that 2020 was difficult for anyone
trying to teach a musical instrument. Nearly all
elements of extended tangibility have been removed
from our social order. But how about sparing a thought
for the tabla teacher? Notoriously hard to learn, its playing
involves extensive use of the fingers and palms in various
configurations to create a wide variety of different types of
sounds which are reflected in the mnemonic syllables.
Not only is it technically hard to master, but the tabla
itself was once a secret preserve for only a few higher status
individuals and its secret was closely guarded. Thus, being born
into a family of tabla players was often the only way to gain
access to this knowledge. Now imagine trying to impart that
knowledge to pupils during a Zoom call.
“I have been teaching online for a long time, actually,
because I have many students from abroad, but for the beginners
it is a big problem because of the fingering,” says KOUSIC SEN,
master tabla artiste and artist in residence at Liverpool-based
Milapfest, the UK’s largest Indian arts development trust.
“You cannot just teach them that online, so it is very difficult.
The position of the fingers is so important – if they start playing
wrong the whole thing goes wrong,” Kousic explains, speaking
today over Zoom from his home in Kensington.
Milapfest has been a mainstay in Liverpool’s cultural sector
for more than two decades. It works to promote Indian arts
throughout the UK and not only produces a varied programme
of entertainment, but also offers education on the diversity of
Indian culture. The trust complements its work on education and
professional development in the Indian arts with performances,
commissions and exhibitions demonstrating the richness of the
continent.
Kousic’s role at the organisation includes teaching at the
weekly Arts School and performances at Milapfest concerts
around the UK, not to mention his position as percussion
conductor for Samyo and Tarang – Milapfest’s two ensembles.
Pravinder Singh, Milapfest’s head of programmes and
planning, explains the set-up of the orchestras: “Samyo is one
of the nine national youth orchestras of Great Britain and it is
a mixture of musicians from North India and South India. The
blend of music and styles coming together is one of the first of
its type.
“For that orchestra to be resident in Liverpool and have
access to such an amazing internationally renowned performer
like Kousic is great,” Singh adds. “His role is critical and crucial,
especially when it comes to artist development. These young
musicians rarely get the opportunity to speak to, learn from and
interact with such a musician. It is a great learning experience for
them. They can pick up the phone, have a Zoom meeting about
tabla and percussion, it’s amazing.”
As a performer, Kousic has become famous for his intense
and energetic performances. Understandably, he is missing the
live arena since Covid-19 put a stop to his regular outings across
the globe.
“Many concerts have been cancelled, but I have been
practicing, and so far with the support of Milap, I have been fine
until now at least,” he says.
“I have been playing internationally since 1988, so I am
really missing live concerts. I always want to play in front of a
crowd and I have realised the more I get from the crowd the
more inspired I feel. Touring and playing performances – it feels
like a whole world is missing,” he shares, with a slight sense of
melancholy.
Kousic was born in a musical family in Calcutta (now
Kolkata), India. Even before his birth, he was exposed to Indian
music. His mother, Smt Tapati Sen, was a prominent North
Indian classical vocalist and an A-grade artist of All India
Radio. He started playing tabla, very
informally, with his father.
“My mum was an Indian classical
vocalist and my father, although not
a professional musician, was a very
literate person when it came to music,
so I had no choice really. I had to go to
school and practice – that was it,” he
shares of his formative years in India.
“My first visit to England was in
1988,” he continues. “I started to tour
many countries and had many jobs
offered to me. I was travelling to the US
a lot, but then someone offered me the
chance to come to England.”
Kousic warmed to England from its
first impression on him. “There is really
not that much difference between India
and England, especially when it comes to music,” he explains.
“So many people are interested [in music] and so many people
come to the concerts. They are also encouraging their children to
learn Indian music.”
Over the last 30 years, Kousic has accompanied many
notable musicians and dancers throughout India and become a
regular participant in major music festivals around the world. He
has toured extensively in the US, Canada, Europe and South and
East Asia and collaborated with musicians from other traditions,
working with Western, Cuban, Indonesian, Persian and Spanish
musicians.
“When I think of Indian musicians of my generation,” Kousic
“There is not that
much difference
between India
and England,
especially when it
comes to music”
contemplates, “I have probably [produced] the most crosscultural
music,” he says. “Russian, Arabic, Spanish flamenco,
Cuban, Indonesian and also jazz… just because I teach tabla it
doesn’t mean my students should become tabla players – they
could become a pianist,” he explains. “When I work with other
genres I only have to find the match, the commonality, then I can
go musically with them. It is very important to me.”
In common with all cultural institutions, 2020 was a
challenging year, but both Kousic and Pravinder are insistent
they will continue to fly the flag for Indian music in Liverpool and
beyond. Their passion for the city shines through. “From Calcutta
I have come to another cultural city in Liverpool,” adds Kousic.
“For me they are in the same category.”
The coming months will see Milap continue their Music For
The Mind & Soul digital concert series, which draws together
a diverse selection of performers and musical styles. Following
on from the first event of the year in late January, Saturday 27th
February features Enjikkudi Subramanian and H.N. Bhaskar,
with the following month, 27th March,
seeing J.A. Jayanth and Debasmita
Bhattacharya in concert with Sai
Giridhar and M.T. Aditya.
“We are trying to be as optimistic
as we can bearing in mind everything
that has happened,” notes Pravinder.
“For us, the main thing is we want
to come out of the pandemic with an
organisation that continues to support
Indian arts going forward.”
“We have so many young people
involved and we hope we can give
them a genuine flavour of Indian music,
dance and arts. When we can get back
into theatres, which we are hoping
might be in April 2021, we can come
out of it stronger,” Kousic concludes.
“Hopefully we’ll continue to deliver better work than we were
before.” !
Words: Jamie Bowman / @Jamiebowman77
Photography: Courtesy of Milapfest
Kousic Sen is the current artist in residence at Milapfest. The
Music For The Mind & Soul digital concert series takes place on
27th February and 27th March.
milapfest.com
FEATURE
23

Despite assurances, the Conservative
government’s Brexit deal with the EU
excludes visa-less travel for touring
musicians, artists and music industry
professionals, a move which will lead to
increased admin and legal fees. Labour
MP and Shadow Minister for Culture
Alison McGovern argues that the decision
will curtail opportunities for the next
generation of musicians – those who have as
much power to represent the UK in Europe as
diplomats and politicians.
L E AV
I N G
My grandad was a folk singer. I have said those words many times in my life. It used to
be my grandad is a folk singer, before he died.
He played on stage at the Liverpool Philharmonic and one of my earliest
memories is being sat on the floor of a box to the side of the stage, with my mum
pointing him out to me. He always had a guitar near him. He was always playing it. My dad has
many stories of driving him to folk clubs across the North of England. My grandad would drink a
lot in the process of entertaining the punters at whichever club he had been booked at, and my
dad would drive him home to Liverpool and, later, the Wirral.
All that driving was for a purpose. He taught himself to play guitar when he was in his early
30s and started gigging properly when he was about my age – about 40. Alongside a massive
love of music, he had the very bright idea that gigging would supplement the not-very-good
wages of a railway worker and his wife, my grandmother, who was for some time a clerk in the
Philharmonic’s booking office. In childhood, both knew a kind of poverty that I have never in my
lifetime seen in this country. But labouring and council housing meant that they could survive.
Music meant that they would live. And live they did.
The Conservatives have agreed a post-Brexit trade deal with the UK that stops musicians and
other performers touring in Europe without work permits, which they have no guarantee will be
awarded. It is personal for me. How many Peter John McGoverns will now be cut off from a life
that would have seen a supplement to their income that would fund otherwise unattainable family
holidays? That would pay for Christmas? That would promote their one or two popular songs, the
royalties from which would help through tough times? How many Peter John McGoverns will never
get started, because they cannot get to that vital gig, that breakthrough chance?
What has happened is this: ahead of the end of the Brexit transition, according to the
Incorporated Society of Musicians (ISM), the Tories promised that they would sort this issue. That
whatever the other consequences of Brexit, musicians would be able to tour freely in Europe, and
European musicians would be able to tour here in the UK. It would be irrational not to want this.
A T
T H E
The music
industry alone
is worth north of
£5bn to the country,
and that is before you
add in others who need
to tour or work temporarily
elsewhere: actors, performers, visual
artists. You don’t add bureaucratic hurdles
to one of your most successful industries. It
would be like telling Scotland to produce less whisky,
or the Italians to slow down Prosecco production.
But come the Christmas Eve reveal of the EU-UK Trade and
Cooperation Agreement, there is nothing there for performers. No agreement to
counteract the new hassles we all face. No carve-out for the creative industries. Just mountains of
paperwork. Performers must check with each individual EU country what their requirements are
and comply to the letter. And it isn’t just performers who are affected, it’s their stuff, too. Imagine
the hassle for tour companies that now face border checks, legal uncertainty and a massive
24

M U S
I C
disincentive
for artists from
all over the world,
but specifically the
USA, to pick a British
company to support their
European tour. It is a nightmare.
We are world leaders in this field:
the UK is known globally for its music and
performing industries. The Tories have put rocks
in the road.
It is personal to me. I see young people from the Wirral
and Merseyside with talent. I want the next generation to have their
chance. I want there to be no boundary to their ambition. I want them to travel
the world showing the best of what they can do. And I want Liverpool to play host to the best
musical talent Europe has to offer, whether that is in classical form, as part of our world class
Philharmonic Orchestra, or whether that is in the shape of an unheard-of Belgian experimental
electronic outfit coming to play at 81 Renshaw on a Tuesday night.
B O R D E R
“I want the next
generation to have
their chance. I
want there to be
no boundary to
their ambition”
This is what it means to be a world city. Not just in the past, but today. Now. This is personal
to me.
There is a solution. What the Tories must do now is make an extra agreement with the EU.
They must come up with a reciprocal deal that takes away the need for work permits for touring
performers. Both sides say they want it. The EU proposals suggested it last March, so the
Conservatives have had some time to get it sorted. Time is of the essence.
Musicians and performers have had the worst year in living memory, and who knows when
the pandemic will lift its foot off their necks? The least our government can do is to agree that, by
the time that touring can properly recommence, performers won’t have huge administrative and
legal burdens to contend with as well as every other thing.
There are many of us in politics who know that when creative people travel, they take with
them not just their own story, their hope and ambition, but also the story of who we all are. They
represent us, if you like, as much as diplomats do, as much as Boris Johnson himself does, on
the world stage. This precious trade, then, is not just about making money. It is the chance to
understand ourselves, and present the best side outwards.
My grandad used to say that it was important for all children to learn to sing. If, he would tell
us, you could stand on a stage and sing, you would have the confidence to do anything.
The United Kingdom is at a crossroads now. With Brexit, we have taken a chance with our
reputation, and the current Conservative government had hitched its wagon to Trump, to populism
and to battling Europe – not being a part of it. The next generation deserves its chance to put this
right. They deserve a chance to stand on the stage, and sing. !
Words: Alison McGovern, MP / @Alison_McGovern
Illustration: John O’Loughlin / @jolworkshop
FEATURE
25

GIVE THE
AREA A VOICE
26

Scottie Press, Britain’s longest running community newspaper, celebrates
its 50th anniversary in February. Stuart Miles O’Hara speaks to current
editor Joel Hansen about the publication’s legacy, activism and the need
to continue providing North Liverpool with an independent voice.
Even with its strong regional identity, zoom in anywhere
on Merseyside and the sense of community is often
as strong as it is complex; a conurbation teeming with
umpteen close-knit neighbourhoods. Meet someone
else from the North West on holiday, the answer to the inevitable
question, “Go on then, where are you from?” usually means to
the nearest arterial road (but, before we begin, let’s agree to
leave all talk of wools and the qualifier “originally from” at the
door).
The SCOTTIE PRESS is the longest-running community
newspaper in Britain, and there are few publications that can
lay down their roots with such a precise regional identity.
This February it’s celebrating its 50th anniversary with its
447th edition to follow, Covid-19 permitting. That’s quite an
achievement in a time when most regional print media has
shrunk to one organ and perhaps a couple of free sheets, heavily
dependent on advertising.
Its remit tends to be Vauxhall, Kirkdale and Everton, the
boroughs along Scotland Road – the north end. But some of the
residents of those areas dispersed over the course of the second
half of the 20th century, either by choice or rehousing. And
so the Scottie Press has readers in Walton, Southport, Kirkby,
Skelmersdale and, as comes to be revealed, much further afield
than its trusty patch and the artery into Liverpool’s city centre.
Current editor Joel Hansen has spent four years editing
and fixing up the newspaper for the heritage-conscious 21st
century. Speaking today in late-December ahead of a halfcentury
milestone that offers plenty of cause to look back, the
young editor is continuing to put forward the case for why North
Liverpool still needs its own newspaper in this day and age.
“It’s to give the area a voice, cover things that maybe aren’t
covered by other media, be that local or national,” says Hansen,
talking over the phone about the paper’s ambitions and purpose.
“We try to report on positive things, and report on
everything without an agenda, give people a decent account of
what’s happening. Luckily, we haven’t got advertisers pressing
us to push more copies, so we can afford to give a measured
account,” he adds. “Often when media is focused on negativity or
trying to chase juicy details for clicks, it can seriously affect how
the stories come across and how people feel, particularly at local
level.”
Nowhere is that truer than in local media, because so often
what you’re reading about is your neighbours, your mates, or a
brownfield site near the top of your road. What you’re reading
feeds into your self-image.
But what about the history of the Scottie Press? It’s hard
enough to get something like that off the ground, let alone run it
for 50 years as an independent publication.
“It was started in 1971 as part of a government initiative,
actually, and at first it was based out of St Sylvester’s school and
a place on Silvester Street, and we’re still based in Vauxhall,”
Hansen informs. “The first editor was a student from Newcastle
called Ian Hering who just came along and had some ideas
about how to organise it, so he’s really the guy who got it off
the ground. But there was a whole team of people involved, and
we did a feature on them at the start of 2020. There’s also a
previous editor, a very dedicated guy named Ron Formby, who
got ill and fell off the radar a bit, but we’re going do a feature on
him in February to recognise his efforts.”
Hansen clearly takes his role as successor to those editors
seriously. He talks about the paper in his stead with obvious
passion, not just in his words but embodied in how he says
them, too.
“When I arrived about four years ago on a six-month
programme, it was a job scheme,” he explains. “I expected there
to be staff, but it was pretty much just the archive. It was like,
‘Here you go; good luck’. I was writing everything, typesetting,
formatting, printing, folding…”
So, what goes in the Scottie Press, what’s its remit?
“Stories about developments in the area and the local
economy, but local history, too,” replies Hansen. “The importance
of providing a voice in an area where developments might get
thrown up which people haven’t been informed about, or that
wasn’t communicated – maybe they had consultation but it
wasn’t well-publicised, and by the time people know about it,
when the thing’s physically there, it’s too late for the residents to
have a say.
“That’s especially important in an area with so much
[re]development right now,” adds Hansen. “In fact, one of
the motivating factors in starting the Scottie Press was the
construction of the new [Kingsway] tunnel which physically
separated communities in North Liverpool. Not just Scottie Road
and Everton, but also separating the likes of Holy Cross from
Vauxhall and Kirkdale.”
Hansen’s reply illustrates the campaigning sentiment that
has been at the heart of the paper’s ethos since its inception. It’s
a purpose that grows from its adopted role in binding once tightknit
communities severed by city centre expansion. It’s these
communities’ voices that line pages, but who are those out there
offering up the platform? Is it journalists, local people, amateur
historians? By the sounds it’s a fairly small operation in terms of
crew?
“Yeah, it’s mostly me and the assistant editor Lewis Jennings,
with submissions from local people,” Hansen notes. “We’ve
done interviews with the local MP [Dan Carden] and features on
community projects, grassroots campaigners.”
‘Grassroots’ is a word that keeps coming to mind as you read
the Scottie Press. Looking at the excerpts online, there’s so much
variety – interviews with spoken word artists, with boxers, with
trans activists. But even with a strong sense of heritage, no place
remains the same 50 years apart.
The original editions had tags reading ‘non-party-political’
and ‘non-sectarian’ on the front cover of each issue. Clearly, that
had more relevance in the 70s, even if you do still get the Orange
Lodge marching down Netherfield Road a couple of times a year.
They’re reminiscent of former Guardian editor CP Scott’s modern
proverb that “comment is free, but facts are sacred”. Are tag lines
still there on the cover, are they still relevant to the paper and
area?
“No, that left the masthead before I arrived, but the nonparty-political
thing stays true,” says
Hansen. “It’s a lot less divided in
recent years, but we do feel, even in a
relatively politically unified place like
Liverpool, it’s important to stick to
those values so we can honestly say
we do speak for everyone in the area,
as much as possible.”
The paper became a Community
Interest Company in 2018 and
rebranded in December 2019, as
Hansen further explains. When the
relaunched edition hit the streets of
Liverpool in late 2019, it was fresh
with a new logo and colours that
hearkened back to old editions of the
Press. Stepping further into the future,
a website arrived with the new look
paper. “We plan to put the archive up
in due course,” says Hansen, “because it’s important for a paper
to have an online presence these days that complements the
print edition. That’s how you reach people, that’s how you keep
them informed.”
Among the choice cuts on the Scottie Press website are
bits of local history. You might call it investigative genealogy,
that trace the life of a single person, perhaps the grandparent
or great-grandparent of the author. These are people straight
out of The Furys, Kirkdale author James Hanley’s novels set in
a fictionalised Liverpool against the real industrial action and
combat of the 1910s. People who belong to our concept of
Edwardian Britain, yet who often survived into living memory
(local author Jeff Young’s psychogeographical memoir Ghost
Town is good on this kind of history, and there’s an interview
with him on the website, too). Their stories have so many
parallels with those of our own time – perhaps not by the exact
same drudgery and industrial work, but by their examples of
social mobility, immigration and integration, and raising families
on a budget. The same difficulties faced by the residents of a
(post-)industrial city not always best served by governments
with Victorian social attitudes, no matter the era. Hansen is
eager to expand the current readership, not for the sales figures
as much as trying to be more demographically representative.
“We haven’t printed since [the first Covid-19 lockdown], but
we’re bidding for funding through the Heritage Lottery Fund.
We normally have a print run of 5,000 – one guy buys loads
and sends them around the world to what you might call the
Scotland Road diaspora in Canada, Australia, the USA,” explains
Hansen. “So we’ve got a dead loyal readership, and we want to
reach more readers, perhaps a few more younger people.”
Given the current situation Liverpool finds itself in, and
the limitations as a result, Hansen notes how the paper will be
holding off until the current lockdown ends to run out the 50th
edition given the near logistical impossibility.
The hard copy may have been on hiatus during the pandemic
– a familiar story to independent media – but the Scottie Press
has continued to produce content nonetheless. A November
2020 interview with Walton MP Dan Carden was a frank
articulation of the concerns of Liverpool residents during the
government’s ‘Moonshot’ testing project. Since October’s £44m
business-focused support package for Liverpool City Region
“We report on
everything without
an agenda, give
people a decent
account of what’s
happening”
(population 1.5m), government support has been slim and, in the
case of food provision for school-age children, severely lacking.
At neighbourhood level, it can seem a long way to Westminster.
By keeping people in touch with what’s happening, in plain
speaking, the Scottie Press continues to do vital work.
In November, Mann Island’s Open Eye Gallery began
displaying 70 years of Liverpudlian social history in a series
of three exhibitions titled L— A City Through Its People.
Alongside Emma Case’s Red and the Laura Robertson-Ian Clegg
collaboration Tell It Like It Is, selections from the Scottie Press
archive, the same one that lay in heaps before Joel on his first
day at the paper, complete the trilogy.
Hansen expands on the curation behind the exhibition
which opened in the weeks leading up to Christmas. “That
archival material has been put into five categories, under the
headings of Work, Politics and Protest, Childhood, Housing and
Architecture and Religion,” he says of the work on display, which
takes in a mixture of photography, editions of the magazine
and assortments of media relating to the paper’s history. The
exhibition was originally scheduled to be shown from November
to mid-December, but fortunately, due to prolonged lockdowns,
it has been extended to March and could potentially be open for
the 50th anniversary. “Covid isn’t making it easy,” says Hansen,
“but we’re just going to keep pushing forward and do what we
can while in lockdown.”
At the time of writing, Liverpool is
under lockdown number three along
with the rest of the UK. Accordingly,
Open Eye have temporarily converted
Scottie Press’ contribution into a digital
residency, augmenting a walkthrough
of the gallery with video content
pertaining to the exhibits. Hi-res
images of the photographs, maps and
Scottie Press front pages of times
past are there for nosing over, as are
their captions. They form a continuous
thread of the more recent years of that
‘investigative genealogy’ mentioned
above. The photographs are grainy,
faded and garish at once, sometimes
poorly lit, but there’s a cast of
hundreds, some familiar, all connected
in ways that don’t show up on film.
It’s not artistically driven, like a Martin Parr exhibit – it’s more
like documentation, proof that ‘we were here’, no matter how
changed the landscape may be from the top deck of the 20.
Given the post-war clearances and abortive projects in North
Liverpool, the kind that give a strange feeling of the city centre
‘ending’ when you turn right out of Lime Street and cross London
Road, the hive of new development in the area (well reported
on by the Scottie Press) can perhaps be viewed in the context
of restoring what ought to be there. A resumption after hiatus,
rather than something entirely new. Without getting parochial
about it, the area has faced obstacles to getting on the up that
are different to those faced by Smithdown Road and Wavertree.
Then again, there’s a conversation to be had about the role
gentrification has played in the south end, and how it’s perhaps
not the desirable route to prosperity.
The strong sense of belonging (not always manifested as
pride) in Liverpool’s urban neighbourhoods doesn’t diminish
the wider regional identity, and that identity is not just Scouse.
Like those copies of the Scottie Press posted abroad, people
take it with them when they move away and adopt it when they
move here. Often that wider identity is the strongest defence
against marginalisation by politics, journalism and prejudice.
Hopefully the pandemic will prove to be another adversity
withstood by the people of Everton, Kirkdale and Vauxhall down
the years. There are institutions that sustain communities – not
just physical buildings like St Anthony’s or the Throstle’s Nest,
but more dynamic entities like Greatie Market and the residents
themselves. In amplifying their voices, the Scottie Press is surely
one of these. !
Words: Stuart Miles O’Hara / @ohasm1
Photography: Scottie Press Archive
Scottie Press’ 50th anniversary edition is set to be published in
the coming months. L— A City Through Its People is currently
being shown virtually at Open Eye Gallery.
scottiepress.org
openeye.org.uk/whatson/vr-l-a-city-through-its-people
FEATURE
27

BAZAAR
With lockdown restrictions taking an increasing toll on everyone’s mental
health, Anouska Liat, along with musician Ollie Cash, enters the Open Door
Charity’s Bazaar - a Marketplace for the Mind. Over the course of the eightweek
programme, the duo confront their own battles for mental wellbeing and
bring to bear some useful strategies for keeping the isolation blues at bay.
It is said that, of the 50,000 thoughts we have a day, 98 per
cent are the exact same as yesterday’s. Not only that, but
75 per cent of them are also negative. With this in mind, it’s
understandable why we can easily fall into a similar warped
headspace. In turn, we can subsequently repeat detrimental
processes that could have a serious effect on our wellbeing.
Due to our evolutionary biological roots, we are predisposed
to focus on negative information, constantly on the lookout for
threat. What’s more, as a result of the recent bouts of isolation,
many of us are sailing into dangerous waters to experience
intense loneliness, heightened anxiety and debilitating
depression. Therefore, it is paramount to begin 2021 exploring
ways in which we can tame and manage these patterns. The
goal to reach a more fulfilling existence and have more control of
our own mental reins. Enter: Bazaar.
The Open Door Charity, Birkenhead, is a support centre by
young people, for young people. Embodying an aura of security
and guidance for those aged between 15-30, they delve into
their members’ thought processes in order to discover alternative
methods to tackle stresses and anxieties. The charity was
established in 2011 and has gone on to blaze a trail in mental
health therapies through creative means, picking up a raft of
awards and industry plaudits along the way.
More recently ODC have developed Bazaar, a free eightweek
CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) programme delivered
in an informal, conversational manner. Here they discuss how
thought patterns affect our behaviour. They offer exercises to
explore these, guided by a new booklet each session, plus videos
providing additional information to aid further understanding.
Having completed the mental health obstacle course that
was 2020, such a programme provides a timely check-up. With
this in mind, Ollie Cash (DJ alias Sound Of Drowning, fka Cosmic
Shepherd) and I volunteer to take part in the eight-week Bazaar
programme.
As a musician, Ollie bore the brunt of many of last year’s
challenges. I myself am someone with a keen interest in the
mysteries of the mind. We are looking
to explore our wellbeing journeys thus
far; our difficulties both before the
madness of Covid-19 and as a result of
it, and discuss the techniques we both
have learned and found success in.
Growing up in Aigburth, Ollie
spends his time producing electronic
music. “I’ve been mucking up all sorts
of 140-170 bpm dancey tunes: techno,
electro, jungle, breaks, dubstep – all the
madness mashed together,” he tells
me in the first of our exchanges when
setting up our expedition. The initial
dialogue establishes a rapport that
soon gives way to deeper conversations
about what the last nine months have meant to our wellbeing.
“When lockdown kicked in, I had lots of time to reflect,” he
begins, “with this, I was able to acknowledge myself in relation
to society and I realised how disillusioned I felt with it. General
angst made me point the finger outwards rather than within, and
although my pain has been caused by a multitude of factors, it’s
“Mental health
is a constant
conversation
with yourself”
my pain to heal.”
I ask Ollie about his expectations before we begin our
participation in the programme, “Therapy, self-led therapy is
the way forward,” he tells me, “I believe it’s just one sentence
that someone says to you that makes you realise something
about the way that your brain works that will send you down
a path of enlightenment. You could have this said to you at this
programme or any programme, but it’s
not just gonna happen like that [snaps
fingers]. Mental health is a constant
conversation with yourself.”
While there are a number of
roads a person can trek down to
find an accommodation for negative
thoughts, be it falling into a vicious
cycle of depression, something more
constructive such as therapy, or selfmedicating
with a concoction of drugs
and bad mistakes, Ollie opted for selfhelp
via music. “Music is an extension
of how we feel and connecting to that
allowed me to find tranquillity among
the chaos,” he says. “Expressing myself
through the creation of sound is divine, manipulating sound is
powerful and I love it.”
The Bazaar sessions take place on a weekly basis. Ollie and
I are both pleasantly surprised at the conversational tone of the
mentors who ultimately take on the role as more of a friend. For
me, this was Rachel. “My mentor Lloyd is a babe,” Ollie laughs.
28

THOUGHTS
“The first session was an hour and a half and the second was
only 40 minutes. Sessions just take as long as they take,” he
outlines. This refreshing approach alleviates the stress of a
potential rigid or clinical experience.
Usually offering the course in person, Bazaar has changed
with the times and moved to the familiar format of a Zoom call.
However, Ollie has the chance to experience one in-person
meeting on his first session, taking place at ODC’s base in
Birkenhead’s Bloom Building. “It’s comfortable and really easy
going. There’s loads of pretty colours on the walls; it’s no clinical
box lacking warmth.”
Comfort is a state of mind that many may only experience
in particular scenarios. As previously mentioned, the mind has a
habit of fixating on threats to our projected prosperity; finances,
job security and relationships to name a few. Be that as it may,
these ‘threats’ are not hunting us down for the rest of our lives.
As clichéd as we all know it is, the bad times will pass. It’s near
impossible for something as trivial as losing a job to bulldoze its
way through our entire time on earth, despite how crushing it
may be for your near future. You master control of this belief; you
master your mind’s ability to generate longer and more frequent
moments of comfort.
Like any form of control, one must first practise. One effective
way to try this is through the use of a mood diary, a utensil
promoted in Bazaar’s sessions at the back of each weekly booklet.
The content of the diary entry is pretty much down to its user;
bullet point your day’s activities, write down what made you
anxious, or simply the first word that comes to your head as you
go to write. Whatever you write, the aim is to pinpoint potential
patterns or triggers that you may have previously turned a blind
eye to. As Ollie describes, “It’s a beautiful way to help track your
mind, checking in on myself nightly and emptying my mind so I
can sleep peacefully.”
“I’ve realised this is the most important thing, keeping in check
with yourself,” Ollie tells me following one Bazaar session. “It’s
helped me ground myself daily and led me on a path of healing
through unpicking my mind.” I agree that to keep in check with
yourself is the fundamental aim when mastering one’s own
emotions. Although someone can most likely decipher the way
they feel, it is a different ball game to entirely understand why they
feel this way. This is a problem that may stem from schooling.
In another open and honest dispatch Ollie tells me how he
“went to an all-boys secondary”, adding how “single-gender
schools are such a toxic environment for developing minds,
they create a deluded view of the world”. The regular usage of a
mood diary, then, can help us stop to identify and magnify these
potential deluded thought patterns, shepherding us to a more
positive reaction in the mind.
As the eight weeks conclude, Ollie and I come together for
a final time to discuss the experience as a whole. Both of our
experiences are resoundingly positive. “I’m so thankful for having
taken part. I’ve learnt how I can understand and offer compassion
to my mind, and in doing so offer more love and compassion to
the world,” he smiles. “I’d recommend this to everyone. It’s a nice
way to evaluate where you’re at in life, take a step back, pick up
some knowledge on how to care for yourself, and then work it into
your life.”
Where previous ailments of doubt and caution plagued the
mind, new enlightenment has generated a healthier outlook. “I
started to let go of things that didn’t serve me and it allowed me
to see myself clearer. Once I’d started healing those wounds, I
found how I could connect to society with love instead of hate.”
Although recognising and accepting when you’re having a
bad day can come easily, having the mindset of ‘just getting on
with it’ can be a double-edged sword. While such an attitude may
afford temporary relief, a more long-term solution could be much
more beneficial, an area the Bazaar sessions were keen to tackle.
“The sessions revealed all this anxiety I didn’t know I was living in,
deluded thoughts that were controlling how I perceived the world.
Breaking out of all that, I’ve been able to express myself more
honestly and feel more me,” Ollie says. “Acknowledging twisted
thinking and then balancing those thoughts out with loving
thoughts helped me see the world with clarity. Rather than being
weighed down and spiralling into delusion, I would think about the
twisted thinking objectively and detach myself.”
As we tip-toe into the new year, 2021 may bring with it a
uniting sense of optimism. A new year of hope, of rebuilding,
and fresh opportunities as Ollie gladly agrees with. “I’ve just
put two tunes out on Limbs which is an open platform based in
South East London, but I’ve also got two more coming out on
the Reptilian Establishment label based in South West London,”
he beams. “Me and my mates run Keep It Cryptic [secret events
collective] and we’ve just launched our record label with a
various artists compilation coming out very soon.”
Personally, I have not only taken away the experience of
Bazaar’s constructive and supportive programme, but also
the opportunity to meet a likeminded, free-spirited person like
Ollie, who beautifully rounds off the experience. “Everyone has
something to gain from the therapy offered here, and The Open
Door are angels for doing it. That being said, they need to get the
word out more, and that’s what this article is about. So you, you
lovely person reading this, go and get involved!” !
Words: Anouska Liat
Illustration: Eleanor Szydlowska / @zofskas
In February Bazaar Solus was launched, a new self-directed
version of the programme. Anyone feeling low, anxious, or
stressed can sign up for free by visiting opendoorcharity.com/
contact-us/
FEATURE
29

SPOTLIGHT
G33
“I struggle
concentrating, I’m
a very erratic and
fast-paced person,
but when I’m playing
I suddenly have so
much control”
Olivia Yoxall speaks to the fast
rising DJ about high energy
selections and the importance of
youth radio.
Our call starts with sharing home remedies for period pain
and talking about how much chocolate we’ve been eating lately.
Connecting over Zoom for the first time with the explosive DJ and
tune selector G33, aka Gaia Ahuja, it feels like we’ve somehow
chatted before. Maybe we have, in a musical sense, through the
language of bodily movement it initiates.
Radiantly confident, G33 greets me with less ego than most
musicians. Having previously only seen her playing out, skanking
and demanding the room’s attention, I was unsure who to expect
when launching the Zoom meeting. Instead I’m met with an
equally powerful woman, even without the decks in front of her.
G33 describes her style as “multi-genre”, playing anything
“from garage, to bashment, drill, rap, grime, afrobeat”. Although
living and working in Liverpool, Gaia grew up in Brixton, South
London, and it’s the first marker for her influence and approach
to DJing.
“I grew up with dancehall and rap,” she explains. “That’s
had a massive influence over me growing up and what I play
out.” Often high energy, G33’s sets are designed to get the
crowd hyped. “I like to make people move,” she explains, rolling
her shoulders to an imaginary beat and smiling. “I struggle
concentrating, I’m a very erratic and fast-paced person, but when
I’m playing I suddenly have so much control,” she adds. “I feel like
when I’m playing I just get lost in my own world. It’s one of the
only times I feel like I’m properly focused.”
Still new to the game, only beginning her music career at the
end of 2019, G33 is headstrong and self-taught. “I’ve always
just bantered and said I wanted to be a DJ,” she says. “And then
last summer my friends got me a DJing class and then I literally
just got the bug! I bought myself a little controller and then just
started teaching myself.”
Her freshness to the scene makes G33 an exciting one
to watch, her journey so far is already peppered with proud
moments. “A few months ago I warmed up for DJ Q and I
thought, ‘What a 360!’,” she says, letting out a little thrilled laugh.
“I remember as a teenager lying to my dad about staying at a
friend’s house, but I really went to go see DJ Q play.”
These highlights, including warming up for Conducta,
kickstarting her own promotion Girls On Deck in association with
Culture Deck, and playing on radio stations such as Rinse and
BBC Radio 1Xtra are propelling Gaia into an exciting career. “I
still get nervous,” she adds, “but I think it’s good to get nervous, I
think it means you want to perform and do your job well.”
G33 is absorbed in music in the community, particularly
encouraging young people to get involved with DJing. “Working
with young people has always been important to me. I want to
continue to work with Girls On Deck and Toxteth Community
Radio and Toxteth TV.” She notes how a lack of youth-led
radio stations stood out to her when arriving in Liverpool, but is
working hard with a range of groups to see that change, “That’s
one thing Liverpool lacks,” she admits. “Growing up in London
there were so many youth-led radio stations and I feel Liverpool
lacks youth-led community radio stations which host genres
such as rap and grime. So, I’m excited to see what happens with
Toxteth Community Radio. People don’t realise how important
these spaces are for young people and emerging talent.”
Another important issue that arises throughout our
conversation is the inequality of men and women within the
music industry. “When you’re the only woman on a line-up it can
be so much harder,” G33 says. “You feel like you have to work 10
times harder and prove something. Sometimes I feel people are
already undermining me when I step up because I’m a woman,”
she adds. “It is harder to be a DJ as a woman. I won’t sugar coat
it. It is.”
My stomach tightens as we begin the grimly familiar part of
bonding as women, sharing our experiences of being undermined
and mistreated because of our gender. Although these chats
always leave me with a freshly fuelled fury for the patriarchy, I
am thrilled to see women like G33 stepping out and standing
up against this misogyny. Her promotion, Girls On Deck, aims
to empower and encourage female and non-binary DJs to take
up space and make a noise. Constantly promoting the depth of
talent coming from the women and non-binary folk in Liverpool’s
DJ scene, G33 is empowering in her empowerment.
Nurturing her community, G33 is uplifting the people around
her as she too grows into her career. Her passion for high-energy
music is unwavering and her determination unbreaking. As our
conversation ends, I feel I have spent the last hour with a ball of
light. Feeling energised, not only from her quick-tempo mixes,
but her positivity and strength, too, I sign off a little lighter than I
started. It is warming to know there are people like G33 grafting
at the roots of the music scene to make it as nourishing as it can
be, for everyone to take a sweet slice.
Words: Mary Olive / @MaryOlivePoet (she/her)
Photography: Rob May
soundcloud.com/gggeethreethree
@gaia_ia
30

ANTONIA
Heartachingly gentle and tender,
Antonia’s vocals swirl like honey in
warm tea.
How would you describe yourself as an artist?
A blend of soul and mellow pop, with a sprinkle of jazz. I’m still
discovering my sound and style, though.
When did you begin writing / playing music?
I began with singing and playing the violin and viola at the age
of six, and then the piano a little after that. I started to learn
the guitar at 16, which enhanced my writing. Hopefully my
songwriting has come on a bit since then!
Where do you get the inspiration from when you’re writing
music?
It’s a mixture of things. Each time I write, the song evolves
differently. I’ll have thoughts written down in my notes or a
melody that will be stuck in my head and I’ll try and write to that.
I have to feel content about a situation to be able to write about
it, though.
How have you been finding lockdown and how has it impacted
your creativity?
At the start of lockdown I started to play my guitar again, and
I found writing on a different instrument really helped inspire
new ideas. I’ve struggled a bit though this lockdown, but I’ve
been writing with other people over Zoom, which I love doing.
Bouncing ideas between people is so useful to stimulate.
I love the jazz, soul elements of your music. Your voice is so soft
but rich. What do you think has influenced you to create music
in this way?
Initially it was the pop princesses. But, as I got older, I started
classical singing and went on to explore soul. I really admire
Carole King’s storytelling and the emotional freedom of Etta
James.
You’ve recently been announced as a LIMF Academy Most
Ready artist. Why do you think platforms such as LIMF are so
important?
I am super grateful to have the backing in such an uncertain year.
For artists like me, who are just starting out and figuring out the
industry, it’s invaluable to have their guidance and support.
Is there a defining moment in your music career so far which
stands out for you? Perhaps a gig you’ve played or attended?
I played a Sofar Sounds gig in Leeds which was so much fun, the
audience was so attentive. Watching FKJ at the Roundhouse last
year was also incredible, the way he performed was so engaging.
Why is music important to you?
Music is something that has always been natural to me. People
can relate to it differently and use it as a way to reflect on their
own lives or emotions, which is a such powerful thing.
Where do you see yourself heading in the future?
Honestly, I’d love to be performing at festivals, that’s always been
a goal of mine. Writing and collaborating with different artists is
also something I want to continue to do.
Do you have any advice to give other emerging artists, or for
anyone considering sharing their music?
Do it! People need music now more than ever. I would say take
your time, though, and don’t focus on what other people are
doing. Wait until you are ready.
Photography: Robin Clewley / robinclewley.co.uk
Antonia is one of LIMF Academy 2021’s most ready artists.
@heyitstonez
ARON
With a unique take on ambient synth-pop, Aron tells stories of vunerability and
self-reflection.
If you had to describe your music/style in a sentence, what
would you say?
Sparklingly moody synth-pop.
Have you always wanted to create music? How did you get
into it?
As a kid I used to run around the garden singing made-up songs
about pirates, thieves, summer and everything else a little girl
at the age of three could dream of. Nobody actually understood
what I was singing about, but they were very kind and applauded
me anyway.
Can you pinpoint a live gig or a piece of music that initially
inspired you?
The first time I saw the music video and heard A Happy Place
by Katie Melua was special. I was 13, my eyes were glued to the
screen, and my ears were hooked. It’s strange, yet so beautiful
and hopeful. I loved it.
Do you have a favourite song or piece of music to perform?
What does it say about you?
My favourite song to perform live is Cold Baby, which will
be out soon. It’s about a young girl that feels like everyone
misunderstands and misinterprets her for the worse, even though
her intentions are good. It’s upbeat and fresh.
What do you think is the overriding influence on your
songwriting: other art, emotions, current affairs – or a mixture
of all of these?
Pop culture. I love politics, fashion, comics, movies, you name it.
Sometimes it feels like I’m stuck in a ‘coming of age’ movie, and I
can’t stop writing about it.
If you could support any artist in the future, who would it be?
Lorde has a special place in my heart, and I would absolutely
love to support my Scandi queen Robyn. Did I forget to mention
Björk?
Do you have a favourite venue you’ve performed in? If so, what
makes it special?
BITCH Palace, an amazing music and art collective that highlights
young female artists in the region, invited me to play at Phase
One. That was my first proper gig in the UK. I remember being
super nervous, but it was so much fun.
Why is music important to you?
It’s my way of communicating my views and opinons to others.
Photography: Sasha Kuzima
What’s Wrong is out now.
@itsar0n
SPOTLIGHT
31

SPOTLIGHT
POLICE CAR COLLECTIVE
Dragging nostalgia kicking and
screaming into the future, the
two-piece are forming their own
bedroom-pop bubble one track at
a time.
Even with a somewhat obscure online presence to date, POLICE
CAR COLLECTIVE are hoping to introduce you to what they
describe as “fuck you” music.
The duo, made up of Tyler Plazio and Simon Quigley, have
quickly carved out their own space in the bedroom-pop bubble,
combining a mix of 80s nostalgia, indie-kid melodies and RnB
decorations to offer a new perspective on the crowded genre.
Their single All The Time, released at the turn of the year, is an
echoing seven-minute anthem that mixes booming bass synths
and dazzling guitars to create an all-encompassing soundscape.
It’s the perfect reintroduction to the group, who opt to only have
one single online at a time, in order to keep their online persona
as intriguing as the sound they produce.
The group were thrust onto the scene in 2020 and the release
of All The Time quickly turned the heads of experimentalists
everywhere. But even their future-proof sound has its roots in
something much closer to home. “My dad was really the first
person to show me music in a cool way, if that makes sense.
Like, there’s listening to music on the radio cool, and then there’s
Mötley Crüe cool,” Tyler explains.
“I also remember watching Green Day’s headline set at Reading
on YouTube. That was pretty much the day I told myself that one
day I would headline that festival,” Simon chimes in. “I remember
finding The Smiths’ Best of CD in my
mum’s car when I was about 14. I’d
never really listened to music seriously
up until then. The way their music
encapsulated the way I was feeling has
definitely given me motivation to put out
music that other people can latch on to
and use to express their own emotions.”
The mix of inspirations plays a crucial
part in the group’s songwriting, opting
for fluid approach above all else. “Our
songwriting is a mixture of everything,
really,” Tyler states. “I think it would
be difficult for me to make art that
wasn’t influenced from a load of
different places. There’s a track on our
EP called K that is my favourite of ours
at the moment. When I wrote that song I was really trying to
experiment and write something like I’d never written before.”
But, despite the positive signs of the group’s recent success,
there have been several challenges brought about by the
unorthodox year. “Unfortunately, we haven’t really had an
opportunity to do much live stuff,” Tyler admits. However, the
group don’t seem to be disheartened as, to them, making music
seems to take on a meaning that soars beyond the thrill of
“Music is such an
important part of
self-discovery”
performing. “I think music is such an important part of selfdiscovery.
Genuinely, I think I have learned more about myself
through listening to music than I have anywhere else. Especially
in high school, I was dealing with a lot of shit and I had all this
anger all the time, and I had no idea
where it was coming from. Listening
to a band like Nirvana or Green Day or
the Beastie Boys or whatever allowed
me to start to put together why I was
feeling like this, because they were
Words: Lily Blakeney-Edwards / @lilyhbee
Photography: Nicoletta Kate
@policecarcollective
MINE is available now via 3 Beat Records.
trying to work it out themselves, they
just weren’t afraid to talk about it.”
It’s a poignant perspective, and one
the duo seems keen to deliver to fans
through their work. “Everyone uses
music as an outlet,” says Simon. “Being
able to do this with the Collective and
make at least one person feel like their
voice is heard, that’s a great feeling.”
32

LYNDSAY
PRICE
With charming candidness,
Lyndsay Price uses poetry
to make sense of their
experiences.
“I’m a big fan of
trying to get people
to embrace their
emotions, and poetry
is how I channel that”
When did you first start writing poetry?
I’ve written poetry pretty much since I could hold a pen, but I
only really took it seriously once I left university. I was living in
Birmingham at the time and had a theatre company called Tiny
Lion. It was while working there that I realised it was something I
wanted to pursue further. I moved back to Liverpool shortly after
and really gave everything I had to writing and performing poetry.
How would you describe your poetic / writing style?
My work reflects my personality. I’d rather speak on topics that
are heartbreakingly honest, or even silly, as I feel like this level of
candidness is where the good stuff lies. I’m a big fan of trying to
get people to embrace their emotions, and poetry is really how I
channel that. I also think accessibility is important, so I like to try
and keep my writing quite conversational and easily digestible as
opposed to anything too stylised.
What are your main influences when it comes to writing
poetry?
As a queer woman especially, I find poetry a really helpful tool to
navigate this current climate. Most of what I write is in relation to
something that’s happened to me.
I also find music influences me greatly, as well as art, theatre,
even being in a coffee shop or overhearing a conversation on the
bus.
Are there any artists or other poets who inspire you?
My tastes shift a lot, I’m lucky enough to come across a lot of
artists – I think that’s the perk of hosting a poetry night. Some
artists I love currently are: Sam Sax, Joelle Taylor and Warsan
Shire. I also love musicians like Loyle Carner and Jorja Smith for
their lyrics.
You used to run Rhymes & Records, can you tell us a little bit
about this experience?
Rhymes & Records was a monthly poetry night that ran for two
and a half years out of the basement of The Jacaranda. I will say
that the sense of community that emerged during those years
was really special. I have nothing but beautiful memories and
would love to return to the basement of the Jac to hear poets over
a mic any time!
How does hosting at A Lovely Word differ from running this
event?
One thing that differs is that A Lovely Word is run by a team
of people with different skills. When I was running Rhymes &
Records, it was a one-woman show which led to a lot of feelings
of responsibility. I’ve since come to appreciate the support that a
team can bring, we’re able to achieve a little more on a broader
scale than what I was able to on my own.
You’ve performed at many spoken word events over the years,
is there a stand out moment within these performances for
you? (Or a couple?)
My favourite performance in the last year was The Wordsmith,
which is run by Katie Nicholas. I was on stage with a musician
named Thom Morecroft. When I came to perform my final
poem, I asked Thom if he wanted to improvise some music to go
alongside my words. I think just the magic of it being live, paired
with the vulnerability of the piece, seemed to really captivate an
audience.
How does writing and performing poetry make you feel?
To me, it feels very necessary. When I’m performing on stage
and I feel a connection to an audience, it feels very cathartic. I’ve
always said that I think it’s important for us to hear stories from
people who have had different experiences to our own, and I
think the reason I continue is because I still have things to say.
Have you noticed any significant changes during your poetic
career so far?
I think as I’ve progressed, the quality of my writing especially has
really improved. When I was younger, I was so hungry for it, but
I didn’t necessarily have all the skills, or even the life experience
backing me up. I have a lot of faith in myself now.
Do you have any goals for the future?
I want to create an album of spoken word poetry. I recently
released a short EP and had so much fun doing it. I love
collaboration, and most of the really fun experiences I’ve had in
the past have stemmed from others approaching me with ideas.
Are there any changes you’d like to see implemented into the
poetry scene?
I think as Covid-19 has entered all of our lives in some way or
another, organisers have had to get creative when it comes to
events and engagement. I feel the shift to Zoom and online events
has been really beneficial for those with disabilities especially. I
would hate for those people to get left behind as organisers move
toward more in-person events when they can take place again.
Why is poetry important to you?
For many of us, it’s our tool to navigate the world and to build
compassion towards others. I think most people in this world just
want to be understood a little deeper and, for some, poetry is a
way to achieve that. There’s a reason why a bunch of adults drag
themselves out of their houses to gather in bars and coffee shops
and listen to poetry (even in the depths of winter). It’s because
they feel it adds value to their lives.
Interview: Mary Olive / @MaryOlivePoet (she/her)
Photography: Mary Nicholson / @mdotphotographyy
@lyndsaywritespoems
soundcloud.com/salt-water-poetry
SPOTLIGHT 33

PREVIEWS
“I work increasingly
with dreams and
visionary landscapes
drawn from
impressions of internal
physical activity”
PERFORMANCE
SERAFINE1369
18/02 – Liverpool Biennial and The Liquid Club, online
The multi-sensory performer explores their practices and themes ahead
of a specially commissioned piece for Liverpool Biennial.
Just like any other live event courageously pencilled into
our diaries this year, Liverpool Biennial 2021 will look,
feel and sound a bit different. If so much of the past 12
months have been defined by restrictions on what we
can and cannot do, where we can and cannot go, then the 11th
Biennial is an opportunity for us to think about what it really
means to connect and share in each space around us.
Originally scheduled to take place in 2020, The Stomach and the
Port aims to explore notions of the body and how we connect
with others around the world. Ever adapting to new contexts,
the Biennial’s theme has perhaps never been so warranted as
we begin to process a year both ravaged by a public health crisis
and defined by racial injustice.
The programme of artists will each respond to and explore their
own interpretations of this year’s theme and the wider societal
shifts that we are witnessing. One of them is SERAFINE1369,
the moniker of Jamila Johnson-Small, an artist living and working
in London.
Adapting to each space and context, SERAFINE1369 works
with a range of audio and visual material to explore the body
as an oracular device through ideas about confinement, the
subconsciousness and tension. Ahead of fronting the The Liquid
Club on 18th February, a space to expand on the conceptual
thinking behind the Biennial’s theme, Matthew Berks spoke to
the artist about their practice and the concepts underpinning
their work.
The Biennial’s 11th edition, The Stomach and the Port,
explores notions of the body and our understanding of the
individual as a self-contained entity. Could you talk about how
you usually approach such themes?
If I am honest, I don’t work in a way that I think from any external
theme, I just take in the information – in this case the title and
vision for the Biennial – and I get on with doing what I am doing.
I trained as a dancer and am endlessly fascinated with bodies
and body as lens and metaphor. I am very interested in reading
things through bodies and understand bodies to be sequences of
entangled systems and cycles functioning as multi-dimensional
portals. While I am making, the things around me – new
information, conversations – can act as a filter of a lens for my
thinking, but my relationship to thematics or ‘aboutness’ tends to
be emergent.
Your performances tend to work with the tensions and power
dynamics that exist between space, body and audience in
different environments. What draws you to these concepts in
particular?
With my work I am often trying to figure out or work through
the things that I experience and find confusing/difficult in life. I
wouldn’t say that I am there creating meaning, more searching
for it in ways. Or not even searching, but clearing the space for
myself to be with it – the tensions, the dynamics, the meaning
that shows up in context, when we are looking, when there is
time/space to look.
You often use video, electronic music and sculpture to create
atmospheric landscapes across a variety of spaces including
nightclubs, galleries and theatres. Does each space – its
architectural forms and the way audiences interact in that
space – influence your performance in any way?
Of course. I am very interested in working with what is already
there, so part of the work is always considering the space as
material, and the things that a space proposes to me. My entry
point is usually through the formal and energetic impacts of the
physical space, rather than their histories – how the architecture
invites people to move (or be still) in the space, the scale of it, the
textures.
How does the subconscious inform and influence the direction
of your practice?
I guess I am consciously working with my subconscious as
a guide. I am not so interested in invention or ‘new’, more in
what is here already, the latent tensions that steer decisions,
movements, directions. This is partly an interest in systemic
programming, as well as a curiosity around the idea or the role
of ‘the individual’ beyond being a weather vane or medium, a
set of embodied expressions of environment or symptoms of
the impacts of a system. I take an intuitive approach to things,
gathering things I am drawn to and not immediately questioning
their relationship or encouraging any coherence. I work
increasingly with dreams and visionary landscapes drawn from
impressions of internal physical activity. I think about the work
as an oracular device, a container for this content gathered and
guided by subconscious attraction.
Liverpool Biennial’s identity is very much rooted in taking
over unexpected public spaces. At the Lewis’s Building
– built in the 20th century as the flagship store for the
department chain and set to be further redeveloped – you’ll
be performing a specially commissioned piece. Are you able
to tell us a little bit more about what we can expect?
I haven’t performed in a year, which is the longest break since
I started, and I can’t say what will come out of my body after
all these new experiences… I mentioned earlier that I think
about my work as oracular devices, and what I can say is
that when I was first imagining this work in late 2019, I was
thinking about the tensions between vast open space and
confinement, about loitering, and these things have shown up
very intensely in our lives this last year. This work is coming
from the thinking I’m doing about the emotional formation and
regulation of bodies as and through the concept of loitering.
Will ideas about intimacy and proximity change in a ‘post-
Covid-19’ world? Has all of this encouraged you to perhaps
re-evaluate your own notions about proximity, and do you
expect it to open new ways of interpreting that in your
future work?
I can’t say how things will be, and I suspect that it is too
soon to be able to talk about ‘post-Covid-19’ times. I think
this pandemic has been – is – incredibly confronting, on so
many fronts. I imagine that there are and will be a deep and
transformative impact/s on the global psyche.
My notions of proximity, I’ve always had questions around the
ways that proximity to things impacts me, conscious of the
porousness of my body and its susceptibility to invasion (take
this as you will) and concerned about the emotional, energetic
fields that haven’t been culturally commonly considered
when navigating and sharing space, trying to understand the
relationship between intimacy and proximity. I was working
through these things, learning my boundaries in a sense,
through performing and being proximate to audiences, both
as a one-to-one encounter and to make spectacle (i.e. shine
a light on the inherent drama) of movements of (perceived/
projected/imagined) power and relationship in proximity. With
my physical practice, dancing, I try to create the conditions
through the scores and structure of performances to enable
myself to enter into a kind of meditative state, where I tune to
both my interior landscapes, body systems and environment
and when I next perform. I don’t know what these new/
different tensions around proximity, sharing space and
witnessing others will produce in the space, in my body, in the
work.
Words: Matthew Berks / @Hewinverse_
Photography: Katarzyna Perlak
The Liquid Club, in partnership with Melodic Distraction,
continues with SERAFINE1369 on 18th February.
biennial.com/events/series/the-liquid-club
34

FESTIVAL
The North Will Rise Again
27-28/03 – Online
Zuzu
Manchester and Liverpool are set to cease their notorious rivalry
in March to play joint host to The North Will Rise Again. The
event will take place across two nights on the 27th and 28th of
March and will feature a series of livestreamed performances
beaming out from Liverpool’s Invisible Wind Factory and
Manchester’s Gorilla. Curated by journalist and Membrane
frontman John Robb and Karl Connolly, the two nights will
feature an array of Scouse and Mancunian talent, with RED RUM
CLUB, IST IST, ZUZU and LIINES set to play. THE LIGHTNING
SEEDS and THE CHARLATANS are headlining the events in their
respective home cities. Alongside the performances, viewers will
also be treated to backstage interviews and Q&As that will be
dispersed between sets.
CONCERTS
Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra
Until 28/02 – Online
THEATRE
Petrichor
08-14/03 – Online
Classical fans rejoice, the Liverpool Philharmonic have released all nine of their critically acclaimed
On Demand virtual concerts, featuring the beloved Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and
various ensembles. Priced at £10 each, the concerts were made available online on the 14th
January, and will remain accessible until the 28th February. Filmed between September and
December 2020, the exciting programme contains a myriad of talent. Highlights include violinist
TASMIN LITTLE performing Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending, pianist STEPHEN HOUGH
with Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 Emperor and BORIS GILTBURG playing Beethoven’s Piano
Concerto No. 4, alongside many more amazing musicians.
Through the magic of virtual reality, Everyman Playhouse is inviting
remote audiences into an immersive dystopia with Jonnie Riordan
and Jess Williams’ Petrichor. The VR experience tells the story
of an ordered world, where every day is the same, but sadness
and suffering loom. When two strangers meet by chance their
connection offers a glimpse of hope, sending discordant waves
through their grim reality. The event will be streamed online across
a week on the Everyman’s website.
DISCUSSION
Online Conversations: Framework For Resilience
11/02-25/02 – Online
Luiza Prado de O. Martins
It’s an inalterable fact that humanity has made a long-lasting impact on this world. How we change this, though, still
remains in question. For those looking to make a positive difference, FACT have announced their upcoming discussion
series Online Conversations: Framework For Resilience. Activists, educators and artists will talk about how we harm our
planet, and how we can all make positive change. The series will be split into three parts that will air between 11th-
25th February and focus on specific environmental issues: Ecological Empathy, Climate Justice From De-Colonialist
Perspectives, and Migration And Adaptation. Each session will be led by researchers and leaders of the eco-friendly
movement, such as Luiza Prado de O. Martins and Helen Starr, and will be available to stream online.
FESTIVAL
Liverpool Biennial
20/03-06/06 – Various locations + online
An installation from Turner Prize-shortlisted artist Nathan Coley will be followed by more public realm
artworks commissioned by Liverpool Biennial 2021 as they count down to the rescheduled festival.
The Stomach and the Port, the theme for the latest arts festival, opens on 20th March with a series
of new outdoor sculptures and installations by six artists set in locations across the city, along with
a new online channel. Over the course of the next few months, Liverpool will be transformed with
artworks by globally significant creators as an online and real-life programme comes into phased
fruition in accordance with government guidelines. Coley’s piece presents the proclamation ‘From
Here, All The World’s Futures, From Here, All The World’s Pasts’ on the four sides of the St George’s
Dock Pumping Station on Mann Island. The Biennial is set to release more details of the 2021 festival
programme in mid-February.
Liverpool Biennial
EXHIBITION
L— A City Through Its People
Until 07/03 – Online
Our city may be immortalised through the history books, but there are moments that can only
be captured by the people there and then. Although many may not be able to bask in our urban
vistas currently, Open Eye Gallery have found a way to bring the magic of the city to those at
home. Their new virtual gallery L— A City Through Its People, brings three exhibitions together
to form a collection of archives that tell the story of Liverpool and its residents. RED by Emma
Case focuses on the Liverpool football family, featuring portraits, images, interviews and original
memorabilia donated by Liverpool FC fans. Britain’s longest running community newspaper,
Scottie Press (see feature p26), also presents an archive of original photographs donated
by local residents or photographed by Scottie Press photographers. Finally, the exhibition is
rounded off by Tell It Like It Is, a collaborative project between photographer Ian Clegg and
writer Laura Robertson.
INSTALLATION
Dark Days Luminous Night –
Manchester Collective
TBC – The White Hotel, Manchester
At the end of a dark tunnel, Manchester Collective is bringing light. The arts
organisation’s latest event Dark Days Luminous Night is a part-exhibition, partinstallation
set to showcase a range of music, dance and photography. Featuring
the works of contemporary artists SIMON BUCKLEY and BLACKHAINE as well
as classicists BÉLA BARTÓK and WOJCIECH KILAR, the event will take a look at
the very heart of the city, considering it from new perspectives and questioning
what has been lost. Delayed due to lockdown restrictions, the event is now
planning to take place in late-March, with extra tickets now available, after its
initial sold out run.
PREVIEWS
35

REVIEWS
Team Time Storytelling, Alder Hey Children’s Hospital Emergency Department, 2020 ©AlizaNisenbaum
Aliza Nisenbaum
Tate Liverpool – until 27/05
In a celebrity-obsessed culture, it is a novelty for the rest of
the population to be represented publicly in a way that is not
gimmicky or overly sentimental. Reality TV in its boom reflected
the lives and attitudes of members of the great British public
in a distorted, vulgar manner and speedily converted them
into a different kind of celebrity. In this exhibition, however,
ALIZA NISENBAUM examines the everyday from an alternate
angle, her portraits questioning the notion of community and
what it means to be ordinary. She begins this socially analytical
conversation through older works; representations of workingclass
communities in Mexico and staff at Brixton train station in
public-facing roles.
It is the newly commissioned work, Nisenbaum’s portraits
of the City Region’s NHS staff painted during the Covid-19
pandemic, which provides the reason we’re here to review
proceedings. The Mexican-born artist painted the two group
pictures and 11 portraits of Liverpool NHS workers remotely
from her studio on the other side of the Atlantic in the US. During
normal times, painting subjects virtually would be questionable,
but we all create and communicate in different ways now. We’re
so accustomed to alternative methods of doing, a big question is,
can we ever really go back? Nisenbaum’s method here could be
a metaphor for our times, for all we’ve had to endure, and kept
separate from our real, typical lives and the way we approach our
own jobs and creativity.
This isn’t the first time the NHS has been praised through
theatre or art, of course. The 2012 Olympic opening ceremony,
directed by Danny Boyle, featured hundreds of NHS staff as
dancers – alongside real patients from Great Ormond Street
children’s hospital – in a sequence celebrating the institution. The
tribute took place as austerity bit down and was interpreted as a
perfectly salient political point to make.
The Nisenbaum portraits of Merseyside NHS staff in
contemporary times are different. A popular choice of subject
matter, despite our weekly Thursday night 8pm clap for
their efforts being cut short when we got our lives back and
supported them by eating out instead. Standing on the doorstep
in the cold and clapping into the dark of a wintry street doesn’t
hold the same appeal. Or maybe we realise nurses and carers
can’t keep safe via the miracle of clapping, they require proper
PPE and access to vaccinations, a pay rise and free parking at
work. So yes, it’s unusual to see paintings of people in well-worn
uniforms, devoid of glamour, hung on the walls of a gallery.
The colourful portraits portray exhaustion, thoughtfulness,
determination and the pleasurable lighter moments, offering us
a glimpse into how such workers emotionally continue in trying
times. But still they contrast on occasion with the accompanying
written notices and short films, where we feel the real fear felt
by each as they returned to respective workplaces each day. Sue
the housekeeper’s daughter was scared her mother would die
from her day job. Kevin the porter, a remarkable storyteller of his
experiences who probably doesn’t realise, tells how he raises a
glass of whisky when he gets home after a shift dealing with the
death of a child. How he is ever mindful he is the sole companion
of so many final journeys. How he never gets used to it.
The film in which subjects are shown their portraits
virtually by the artist and enthusiastically feed back to her
feels misjudged. But, in its own way, realising that makes one
appreciate how each worker represents a host of other people in
public-facing roles: those magically transformed into key workers
overnight while walking the tightrope of zero hours contracts
and minimum wage. And although this exhibition may not be of
them, it very well could be.
Cath Holland / @cathholland01
“The colourful portraits
portray exhaustion,
thoughtfulness,
determination”
©Gareth Jones
36

Josie Jenkins: Assembled Worlds
The Bluecoat
Sitting quietly in the Bluecoat’s upstairs gallery is a
collection of work from the past eight years by local artist JOSIE
JENKINS, under the title Assembled Worlds. The paintings, three
landscapes and two interior scenes, are spacious and immersive,
piecing together art history references and contemporary
objects to result in compositions that are as disparate as they are
cohesive.
In this body of work, Jenkins shifts the scale of everyday
objects until they become monuments within strange and liminal
worlds, and with each canvas suggesting a mutability between
natural forms and artificial shapes, the exhibition holds an
unspoken cohesion, weaving a sparse narrative that is left to the
viewer to flesh out.
The first and most recent painting is After Turner with Lego
(2020), in which a foggy and fluid landscape is populated with a
Assembled Worlds (courtesy of Bluecoat)
Lego house, flower patch, boat and junk yard, contrasting subtle
painterly space with more constructed and assembled forms.
Jenkins is inspired by Romantic painters, but perhaps subverts
their seriousness, as the use of children’s toys grounds the
paintings instead in experiment and play.
Another work, After Thomas Cole with Building Blocks
(2018), is similar in its approach, distorting the size of children’s
building blocks to the scale of actual buildings within a stormy
terrain. Jenkins plays with this displacement to construct new
worlds that linger just outside of our own, resulting in paintings
that are almost theatrical in size and scope. To some degree,
the landscapes that overlay bleak, marshy environments with
the solid forms of children’s toys feel torn from the pages of a
science fiction novel, distant and alien in nature. In other ways,
they feel oddly familiar and personal, confronting the viewer with
recognisable and inviting objects that are detached from their
usual contexts and transplanted into new ones.
While the assemblage of building blocks is a construction,
the painting is too; in making reference to other artists, notably
Turner and Cole, the scaffolds of the paintings and their histories
are exposed. This is particularly
apparent in Geograph Collage with
Paper Clips (2012), a piece in which
the perspective grid composition
underpinning any landscape painting is
visible, dissolving beneath swampy grass.
This reminds us that the painting itself is
a fiction, a constructed object, rather than
a referential illusion. Revealing the rules
of perspective and scale before promptly
contradicting them by scattering the scene
with oversized paper clips, Jenkins’ paintings
grapple with realism and surrealism in equal
measure.
Accompanying these landscape paintings
are a pair of interior scenes, Willow Pattern
Stories – Finest of Treasures (2017) and Willow
Pattern Stories – Rewrite History (2017). The
landscapes’ use of drip technique to evoke an
energetic, weathered scene is here mirrored in
the first painting’s rug, suggesting a reciprocation
and continuity between the landscapes and the
interiors. But the interiors feel less concerned with
large-scale Romanticism and more in tune with
the intricate restraint of the decorative arts, as delicate patterns
inhabit walls, carpets and ceramics. In Finest of Treasures, the
ornamental forms of Chinese porcelain sit, contained, on the
shelves, but in Rewrite History, they sprawl from the boundaries
of the canvas like overgrown houseplants, the size of furniture
but without the function. It is the house depicted in Finest of
Treasures that perhaps best embodies Jenkins’ strive for rerepresentation
through re-contextualisation. Situated within
one of the artist’s expansive landscapes, this house would have
signalled civilisation, perhaps hinting that these worlds are not
as uninhabited as they seem. But within an interior, it is Jenkins’
strong sense of playfulness that persists; the house becomes a
doll’s house and, much like the landscapes, these interiors remain
figureless, transitional spaces.
Playing with context, shape and composition, Assembled
Worlds carves out new, unfamiliar, decorative worlds within
recognisable scenes, suggesting eerie narratives that open
themselves up the longer the viewer stays with them.
Leah Binns
Sean Edwards: Undo Things Done
+ Sadia Pineda Hameed: The Song of My Life
The Bluecoat – Until 21/02
Before I had the chance to see Undo Things Done, I could
hear it – an elderly voice retracing a childhood spent in a
Northern Irish Catholic children’s home, cleaning houses for
a living and other autobiographical notes collaged with her
former husband’s job assessment forms, racing news and
written extracts about home and loss. The elderly voice is
SEAN EDWARDS’s mother, Lily, whose voice featured in her
son’s 2019 Wales in Venice Biennale exhibition. Broadcasting
live every day at 2pm from her Cardiff home, Lily Edwards’
voice would travel over 1,000 miles to reach Venice’s
deconsecrated Santa Maria Ausiliatrice, a 20 th century conventturned-community-centre.
Now re-edited as a BBC Radio 4
studio recording titled Refrain (2020), her voice has found a new
home in Edwards’ touring Undo Things Done: an exploration into
place, class, politics and what we inherit—both from our parents
and where we grew up.
As sections of Refrain are played throughout the five-hour
gallery day, Lily can often be heard reciting a peculiar linguistic
filler, ‘un un un’, as if in a deep prayer. Appearing in the first
two letters of the exhibition’s title itself, the repetition and
recycling of motifs are central to Undo Things Done, it seems,
and I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the 2020
Turner Prize winner as he appeared via Zoom to inspect the
work in time for the opening day. The ‘un’s aren’t just a way of
giving Lily space to breathe during the radio play, he told me,
but an onomatopoeic nod to his childhood responsibilities as a
bell-ringing altar boy. A mosaic of his early political, religious,
and familial memories, the exhibition pieces together seemingly
unrelated objects to create a shared visual language to which
many of us can relate; one revolving around class consciousness,
community and personal histories – about not expecting much
from not much at all.
The gathering of Edwards’ fragmented personal histories
can be seen in in Parallel with the past (2020), a series of framed
images arranged horizontally across two of the gallery’s walls.
The frames include collages of a childhood communion, images
of his estranged father’s Welsh valley steel town, hand-written
betting slips and the pattern of a 1980s Manchester United
shirt (the only gift Edwards remembers from his father). With
severe flooding in Venice damaging the original sculpture, the
collages have been digitally scanned and now hang vertically
to resemble film rolls cut into strips, with subtle allusions to
nostalgia, displacement and loss. Meanwhile, on a mounted
television, further suggestions of domestic gambling are made
in DOMS (2019), a digitally transferred 16mm film cut into two
short cycles where hands sharply rearrange dominos as if caught
between two conflicting memories.
Behind the mounted television, Edwards’ work takes on
a more politicised energy in Newspaper Confessional (2019).
Here, repeated sequences of ‘un’s are carved across a redframed
hardboard folding screen, referencing both Edwards’
Catholic upbringing and his shaming of the gossip-for-profit
culture of tabloid journalism. The italicised ‘un’ is of course
taken from The S*n’s masthead, a paper banned in Edwards’
childhood home just as in the city where the screen now stands
somewhat awkwardly. This exploration into shame and the much
greater power that the popular press once enjoyed in swaying
the UK electorate before the advent of social media is further
suggested in Free School Meals (2019), a similarly red-framed
newsprint poster whose words are set in the unmistakable
upper-case tabloid font. Referring to the artist’s own experiences
of receiving free school dinners and having to queue in a visibly
separate line, the poster is a strikingly simple work and one that
has taken on renewed significance today.
Edwards’ inherited political and religious experiences
are then combined in the three brightly coloured hand-made
traditional Welsh quilts, each designed by Edwards and quilted
by Karen Cocksedge and Samantha Jones. Made with cotton
poplin, cotton sateen and carded wool, they hang from custom
aluminium brackets and are imbued with Catholic symbolism and
repeated geometric patterns. Look closer and you will pick out
both ‘un’s and another familiar typographic reference – the ‘M’
taken from the Daily Mirror, the preferred newspaper of Edwards’
trade union grandparents. Edwards’ quilts were the result of
a period of research at Cardiff’s St Fagans National Museum
of History, whose large collection of these types of quilts
feature prominently in the working-class chronology of Wales,
particularly in maternal spaces.
In seeking to develop this inquiry into matrilineal storytelling,
Edwards invited Cardiff-based artist and writer SADIA PINEDA
HAMEED to feature alongside Undo Things Done. On display in
Gallery One’s intimate media space, Hameed’s new 10-minute
The Song of My Life (2020) is a dreamy and nostalgic take on
karaoke, with text appearing as lyrics for a duet using the song
of the same name by Nora Aunor. Hameed’s 8mm film features
beachscapes, illuminated flowers and waves shimmering with
light, with the alternating ‘lyrics’ exploring themes of familial
trauma and how collectivised memories pass – both spoken
and unspoken, between parent and child. Likewise, in Nails (or
inheriting absence) (2019), the enlarged close-ups of Edwards’
nails bitten down to the quick – a practice borrowed from his
mother – highlights the role that Edwards’ maternal upbringing
has played in his bodily rituals.
But it is through interpreting Edwards’ upbringing on a
council estate in Llanedeyrn where Undo Things Done finds its
most resonant focal point. Built in the 1970s on the edges of
Cardiff, the estate – typical of the many post-war social housing
developments of the time – attempted to provide for all its
residents’ needs. This included a pub, a police station, a library
and the Maelfa Shopping Centre. But, in striving to contain one
community on the outskirts of Cardiff, it proved both utopian in
design and socially divisive in practice.
Like so many of the 1970s retail and housing experiments
in our own towns and cities, both the architectural forms and
the civic aspirations that Edwards’ childhood estate represented
gradually succumbed to time. In Llanedeyrn (2019), various
perspectives of the estate are revealed in dozens of black-andwhite
images from the artist’s book stuck to the gallery’s floor,
while in Gallery Three, the 24-minute silent film Maelfa (2010)
takes us through the estate’s partially derelict shopping centre as
it stood in 2010 with the threat of demolition looming large.
And it is perhaps here, as Lily’s voice provides a fragmented
accompaniment over the course of the day, where Sean
Edwards’ pieces across both galleries come together. Undo
Things Done – the words taken from a statement of regret
from his late father – is a powerful study of lives lived at the
margins, of the unheroic and of the unassuming. Of disappearing
communities and their fragmented memories, and of the
ambitious but flawed social projects that are inherited by
generation after generation.
Matthew Berks / @hewniverse_
Undo Things Done (courtesy of the artist and Tanya Leighton Gallery)
REVIEWS
37

ARTISTIC
LICENCE
This month’s selection of creative
writing comes from JARG editors
Madelaine Kinsella and Matthew
Thomas Smith. Initially launched in
2013, JARG is a poetry zine offering
an alternative to the standard poetry
canon; JARG is a loose cannon, as the
writers put it themselves. The third
issue of JARG is due this year with
submissions open mid-2021. Ahead
of the relaunch, both Madelaine and
Matthew share a collaborative poem as
a reintroduction to the zine, along with a
selection of their own work.
JARG
Poetry for all.
Succinct as soundbites.
Yeah that’s sound that poetry.
Can you hear the sound.
The speed of it poetry.
Like flowers through the cracks.
In the pavement poetry.
Oppose the cutting of flowers poetry.
You can’t stop the spring poetry.
There are poets in Norris Green.
There are poets in Bootle.
All I have is a voice poetry.
Kick off poetry. Don’t start poetry.
The person on the street will read poetry.
The person on the street will write poetry.
The person on the street will read and write poetry.
A jaywalking ballerina. Stylish rebellion.
Clobber and rig out poetry.
Movement poetry. Position poetry.
Suppose purpose poetry.
Power to the people poetry.
Poetry to the people poetry.
Concrete and grass. Harmony of sorts.
A new progressive curriculum poetry.
The mundane, perhaps, never the same poetry.
It doesn’t rhyme. It sort of rhymes. It rhymes.
Free. Freer. Freeing. Freedom poetry.
Free poetry. Free in access. Free in address.
In accents. In accepts. In excepts poetry.
For people that don’t get poetry.
There’s nothing to catch.
There’s no catch. Catchless poetry.
Catchy poetry. Poetry and other songs.
A place for us poetry.
Wandering, sometimes lonely.
Sometimes cloud like poetry.
An empty canon. A loose canon.
Not really into that poetry.
Imposter poetry. Improper poetry.
Proper boss poetry. Just poetry.
Jarg poetry.
Madelaine Kinsella & Matthew Thomas Smith
@jargzine
BACK GATE
Three o’clock back gate.
It predates iPhones, bitchiness.
By-product of puberty.
What she said to her
about her fella
on MSN.
The girls ripping hair follicles
from each other pores.
Hair extensions
in clumps
the crowd
blood thirst
flip phones
popped lip
broken eye socket
in the name of being children
fighting into womanhood.
Madelaine Kinsella / @Madskinsella
Daytime television
somewhere rural
a roomful
of people
stand up
start clapping
and cheering
an affluent
couple in
blue fleeces
for buying
an ornament
for cheap
and selling
it on
for lots
Matthew Thomas Smith / @MTSmith89
Submissions for the third edition of JARG will be open from mid-
2021. See social handles for contact and further information.
38

SAY
THE FINAL
“The pandemic has
stopped us all dancing,
but it has not stopped
the construction sites
in the Baltic Triangle”
As part of a new piece of research looking into the influence of dance music on
urban regeneration, Richard Anderson asks us to look back to the good times, the
better times, the times that will happen again. But, importantly, where?
Remember dancing? I’ve been going out dancing for
years. I’m not a good dancer, but I am an enthusiastic
dancer. So, it made sense that, in October 2019, I
began researching Liverpool’s dance music scenes.
I was particularly interested in the emergence of smaller
clubs and party events that sprung up outside the city centre,
generally in the decade following the 2008 Capital of Culture.
Through this Arts and Humanities Research Council project
running at the University of Liverpool, I’m also looking at the
term ‘underground’ as it is used in dance music scenes. What
does that mean to the people in these scenes? And what ties its
association to certain venue spaces?
As has been documented numerous times in Bido Lito!, the
spaces in which we dance and socialise together always seem
to be under imminent threat of closure. Music happenings in
previously unfashionable zones on the city’s periphery inject
an aura of cool into an area, only to find themselves being
crowbarred out as property developers transform vibrant nights
out into luxury apartments.
But what does this mean to the people who dance in these
spaces? My research was initially aimed at trying to understand
people’s attitudes towards going out dancing, and the cultural
relevance of club scenes. It is still about that, although the global
pandemic has had a huge impact on night-time economies.
Literally everything I aimed to study has been shut since
March 2020. And we know nightclubs will be the last places
to reopen. Social dancing takes place almost exclusively in
environments in which the physical closeness of other dancers
is key to the experience. Dancefloors get hot. People sweat. The
poorly circulated air becomes thick. They are loud. We shout to
be heard. We expel. Not just air, but our cares. Many people work
hard all week just for these weekend experiences. Not just for
the music booming over dedicated rigs, but for the other people
we share these dark, sweaty boxes with.
The pandemic has stopped us all dancing, but it has not
stopped the construction sites in the Baltic Triangle. That threat
to culture moves on relentlessly. Some spaces many of us have
happy memories of dancing in are no longer there.
My research has pivoted, out of necessity, to capture not
just the impacts of gentrification on our city’s scene, but also the
existential threat that Covid-19 has brought to bear. Dancing will
be the last thing to restart. We miss this. Yet, our enthusiasm for
dancing is unlikely to have been diminished.
I’ve created an online survey to try to gather people’s
thoughts on dancing. I want to hear from anyone who attends
dance music events – any style, any genre. Anyone who, before
Covid-19, went out to dance – regularly or just once in a blue
moon.
The survey will attempt to discover patterns relating to how
often, what venues, what nights people attended before the
pandemic; their attitudes towards certain types of clubs and
venues; what people think about ‘the underground’ and also
thoughts on how dance music events might be impacted in the
future, after coronavirus; how do clubbers anticipate scenes reemerging
and adapting to the challenges of the pandemic?
So, I’m asking fellow clubbers, party heads, old-school ravers
and disco queens for a moment of their time to complete the
anonymous online survey [link at bottom of the article].
I hope that the findings of this research project will be of
interest not only to club owners, promoters and DJs, but also
city planners, cultural institutions and the Liverpool City Region
Music Board. Its aim is to shed light on dance music’s influence
on urban regeneration, cultural participation and the artistic
make-up of a city. !
Words: Richard Anderson
Photography: Declan Connolly / @Declansconnolly
liverpool.onlinesurveys.ac.uk/dance-music-scenes
Participation in this study is completely voluntary and completely
anonymous.
THE FINAL SAY
39