Bido Lito! Magazine | Issue 118 | December 2021-January 2022

ISSUE 118
DECEMBER 2021-JANUARY 2022
NEW MUSIC + CREATIVE CULTURE
LIVERPOOL
FREE!
VOGUE
BALL
Self-love and inclusivity
with House of Suarez
MICHAEL
ALDAG
YAW OWUSU
LONELADY
JARV IS...

SUPPORT BIDO LITO!
+ G ET T H E G O O D ST U FF
Becoming a Bido Lito! member is the best way of supporting this magazine. For £7 a
month you will not only contribute to the future of Bido Lito! but get all this:
Every issue delivered
Welcome gift
Premium Bido Lito! Journal
Free admission to
Bido Lito! events
Recommendations + bonus
content every week
bidolito.co.uk/membership
Join a like-minded
community of supporters

In Liverpool
January
Start For
Audio
2-year degrees
and 1-year diplomas
Book a campus tour at sae.edu/gbr
SAE Liverpool
38 Pall Mall
Liverpool
L3 6AL
03330 112 315
enquiries@sae.edu
sae.edu/gbr

26TH DEC
BOXING DAY SPECIAL
GREG WILSON
TICKETS: SKIDDLE.COM

BACK TO…
Having A Laugh
At The Playhouse
WED 2 FEB TO THU 3 FEB 2022
Nina Conti:
The Dating Show
WED 9 FEB 2022
Flo & Joan:
Sweet Release
THU 10 FEB 2022
Reginald D Hunter:
Bombe Shuffleur
WED 20 APR 2022
John Shuttleworth’s
Back Again!
SAT 23 APR 2022
Lou Sanders:
One Word: Wow
WED 4 MAY 2022
Count Arthur Strong:
And This Is Me!
Visit everymanplayhouse.com to see the full line-up of
what’s on at the Everyman & Playhouse theatres
WILLIAMSON SQUARE, LIVERPOOL, L1 1EL
EVERYMANPLAYHOUSE.COM | 0151 709 4776

EVOL presents by arrangement with Primary Talent
SATURDAY 2ND APRIL 2022
LIVE AT JIMMY'S LIVERPOOL
130 Bold Street, L1 4JA
7:30pm doors / 18+ show.
Tickets £10 advance plus booking fee from Seetickets & Skiddle.
Follow @clubevol @waltdisco
EVOL presents
WEDNESDAY 27 APRIL 2022
O2 ACADEMY LIVERPOOL
11-13 HOTHAM STREET, L3 5UF
TICKETS £24 + BOOKING FEES FROM TICKETMASTER, SEETICKETS & SKIDDLE
7PM DOORS 14+ SHOW
@CLUBEVOL METRONOMY.CO.UK @METRONOMY
FOLLOW @CLUBEVOL
ALL TICKETS AVAILABLE AT SEETICKETS.COM & SKIDDLE.COM

FEATURES
17 / VOGUE BALL
A staple of Liverpool’s cultural calendar, Olive speaks
to the house mother as it continues its no-holds-barred
explosion of fierce inclusivity, expression and positivity.
23 / MICHAEL ALDAG
Orla Foster peels back the pixelated layers of the
accidental TikTok star as he continues his tongue-incheek
takes on modern life.
26 / YAW OWUSU
The cultural powerhouse and champion of the underdog
sits down with Sam Turner to talk about finding focus
and looking to the future.
30 / GENERATION SOBER
Alcohol and drugs are ingrained into Liverpool’s nightlife
economy, but are we reaching breaking point? El Gray
speaks with some of the city’s creatives on their search
for sobriety.
34 / ASTLES
After being forced to move back home during lockdown,
the Southport native returns to Liverpool with a treasure
trove of new material – and a new-found confidence.
36 / GEN AND THE DEGENERATES
Gary Lambert catches up with the troupe who, once
outsiders to Liverpool’s music scene, have quickly made
themselves at home.
38 / STATUES REDRESSED
We reflect on the visual arts project which forced
a rethink of Liverpool’s bronze neighbours over the
summer.
COLUMNS
63 / MO STEWART
Reflecting on the precarious fortunes of music and sport,
the DJ and sports journalist considers the double-edged
sword of nostalgia.
65 / JEFF YOUNG
Exploring the city’s wont to transcend reality, Jeff Young
relays the visit of a mysterious white stag to Bootle.
67 / OLIVE
Olive catches up with cultural protean, Kolade Ladipo, to
explore the intersectionality of queer and Black identity.
69 / FINAL SAY
Following the launch of their recent survey to improve gig
accessibility, Eve Machin from Where Are The Girl Bands?
makes the case for developing the scene further.
REGULARS
10 / NEWS
A museums update, a Zanzibar reopening, an Echo & The
Bunnymen reissue and more in our latest round-up of the
city’s affairs.
14 / LONG PLAYER
SHORT INTERVIEW
Strawberry Guy takes a brief hiatus from the flora and
fauna to discuss his debut album in our Long Player Short
Interview.
15 / HOT PINK!
Warm your winter with our hand-picked selection of
Merseyside’s newest and pinkest releases, including
Police Car Collective, Nikki & The Waves, Tonia and more.
42 / SPOTLIGHTS
Enter the worlds of Alright (okay), P3LZ, Tilly Louise, and
Andrew Neal as they continue to season Liverpool’s sonic
cuisine.
45 / PREVIEWS
Sebastian Gainsborough heads to Future Yard, LoneLady
pays a visit to 24 Kitchen Street, and we survey the city’s
upcoming theatre and exhibition offerings.
50 / REVIEWS
Dispatches from Jarv Is..., Mykki Blanco, Girls Don’t Sync
and more from our autumn events calendar.
62 / ARTISTIC LICENCE
Viewing a bus journey as a microcosm, Angie Woolfall’s
fly-on-the-wall poem is a celebration of community,
solidarity and hope.
8

E D I T O R I A L
Rosa Kusabbi, Ben Youdan and Dan Chan were all tasked with
celebrating Liverpool’s diverse queer identity across its public
spaces through a series of artworks. Featuring an illustration of
flamboyant cosmopolitans, empowering ransom note typography
and flora in righteous bloom, all three pieces were commissioned by
LGBTQIA arts and culture festival, Homotopia, in response to a spate of
violent homophobic and transphobic attacks over the summer.
Within a week of going on display as part of the festival’s outdoor
Queer the City exhibition, Kusabbi’s Hate Has No Place In Liverpool on
School Lane was ripped from its wall, while Youdan’s Queer With No Fear
at FACT was discovered scrunched up in a ball inside the Bombed Out
Church premises. While both of these pieces were an attempt to send a
unified response to the rise in LGBTQ+ hate crime, their titles alone speak
to the extent to which it has already infiltrated our streets.
The recent vandalism of LGBTQ+ artwork doesn’t just qualify as
hate crime – it represents an attack against queer visibility, against art as
activism, and an attempt to erase queer identity from our public spaces
altogether. After a summer in which hundreds of people protested to affirm
the rights of LGBTQ+ people to simply exist, homophobia has struck under
the cover of darkness to remind us once more that this city has a problem,
and this problem is more entrenched than many of us are prepared to
admit. Because while Liverpool has much to be proud of, it continues to be
plagued by a debilitating case of myopia. The belief in the city’s infallible
exceptionalism is not only grossly tone deaf – it’s something that should
make all of us very uncomfortable indeed.
Homophobia doesn’t always manifest through demonstrations of
physical violence or with beautiful artworks being torn down from walls.
The tentacles of this often
invisible force stretch
out to corrupt our micro
interactions, our urban
planning, and our justice
system. Its diseased tenets
are passed down into our
children’s playgrounds
where they are legitimised,
before rising up again
in the bowels of social
media echo chambers
where algorithms serve up
hate and division in feeds
funded by big business.
It thrives in indifference
and spreads through
inaction. Now more than
ever, the share of responsibility falls on each and every one of us to ensure
this city is one where its queer communities can be both visible and safe,
both celebrated and believed in. In our local leaders’ discussions around
regeneration and urban renewal, plans for how the city should look and
operate must take into account the lived experiences of those for whom it
has let down for too long.
The beautiful thing about cities is that different people experience them
in different ways. But for many in this city, their daily experience is one that
negates, challenges, and disputes their existence. We must acknowledge
that, despite continuing to be rightly admired for its historic solidarity,
community spirit and visceral identity, Liverpool has a long, long way to go
before it can truly be a welcoming home for our queer friends. !
Matthew Berks / @hewniverse_
Associate Editor
“The belief in the
city’s infallible
exceptionalism
is something
that should make
all of us very
uncomfortable”
New Music + Creative Culture | Liverpool
Issue 118 / December 2021-January 2022
bidolito.co.uk | @bidolito
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
Associate Editor
Matthew Berks - matthew@bidolito.co.uk
Live And Partnerships Assistant
El Gray - el@bidolito.co.uk
Digital Content Creators
Iona Fazer
Harry Robertson
Intern
Hannah Mitchell
Design
Mark McKellier - mark@andmark.co.uk
Branding
Thom Isom - hello@thomisom.com
Proofreader
Nathaniel Cramp
Cover Photography
Daniel De La Bastide / @danieldelabastide
Words
Sam Turner, Matthew Berks, El Gray, Lily Blakeney-
Edwards, Olive, Paul Fitzgerald, David Roskin,
Sarah Taylor, Iona Fazer, Orla Foster, Jack Ryder,
Emma Varley, Alannah Williams, Nina Newbold,
Alastair Dunn, Sam Lasley, Alice Williams, Alfie
Verity, Tilly Foulkes, Jennie Macaulay, Mo Stewart,
Jeff Young, Angie Woolfall, Eve Machin.
Photography, Illustration and Layout
Mark McKellier, Daniel De La Bastide, Emma
Lavelle, Anthony Wilde, Robin Clewley, Eve, Keith
Ainsworth, Lucy McLachlan, David Edwards,
Ollie Dignan, Adele Robinson, John Johnson, Chloé
Stephenson.
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.
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.
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.
EDITORIAL 9

NEWS
MUSEUMS 2022
Whether you’re a Japanophile, a time traveller, a historian
or a contemporary art buff, there’s something for you
in National Museums Liverpool’s spring-summer 2022
programme.
Tickets are now on sale for the much-anticipated exhibition Doctor Who: Worlds Of
Wonder which opens in May. Visitors to the World Museum will be treated to the
monsters, costumes and props used in the cult series in a world premiere exhibition.
Over the water at Lady Lever Art Gallery from April, Kunichika: Japanese Prints will
feature one of the most important printmakers of the 19th century. A cornerstone of
Japanese culture, the woodblock prints of Toyohara Kunichika are recognised around
the world and this exhibition of more than 50 pieces will be a fantastic follow-on to the
popular Edo Pop showcase at the same gallery four years ago.
Also opening in April, but over at the Walker Art Gallery, the work of local artists will
be on display in the exhibition Refractive Pool: Contemporary Painting in Liverpool.
The exhibition is organised by the Refractive Pool project, which started in 2019 and
has explored contemporary painting in the city through events, a book and website
to highlight a diverse range of artists and styles. The exhibition at the Walker is being
curated by Liverpool-based artists Josie Jenkins and Brendan Lyons who have selected
the work of 20 artists for the show.
Sixty-eight works borrowed from the National Portrait Gallery will be on display as
part of The Tudors: Passion, Power and Politics, also at the Walker. The exhibition will
tell the story of the five Tudor monarchs and the dynasty’s reign over 16th-century
England, from 1485 to 1603. The World Museum has also invited comedian Daliso
Chaponda to interrogate and re-interpret the collections of the venue’s World Cultures
Gallery for a timely intervention. Artist Leo Asemota, along with Liverpool’s African
diaspora communities, will also be looking at the museum’s Benin collection to rethink
the presence of the looted royal artworks and other objects.
Daliso Chaponda (Steve Ullathorne)
liverpoolmuseums.org.uk
Safe Spaces Trail
Yard Act
SAFE SPACES TRAIL
A city centre trail made up of artwork, writing and podcast episodes is
highlighting the spaces around Liverpool where young people feel safe.
Community interest company Comics Youth have worked with 11 to 25-year-old
creatives to commission work which will signpost areas ranging from cafes to
museums where they prefer to find comfort. The Safe Spaces Trail consists of 15
places that can be found on a map available to download from the Comics Youth
website, or picked up in physical form from stockists including Lovelocks Coffee
Shop, World Museum and Liverpool One Information Centre.
comicsyouth.co.uk
THE ZANZIBAR REOPENS
Liverpool music institution The Zanzibar has reopened its doors to the relief of artists
and music lovers across the city. The sad news of its closure last year left many reeling,
with a flurry of musicians citing the venue as the space that gave them their first
step on the ladder to musical success. Now under new ownership but maintaining
a dedication to providing the same opportunities to emerging musicians as well as
hosting more established artists from near and far, the Seel Street venue is a welcome
re-addition to the city centre’s gig circuit. Leeds indie upstarts YARD ACT are slated to
play the venue in May following the drop of their debut album in January, with many
more gigs populating the venue’s live calendar.
facebook.com/zanzibarclubliverpool
10

LIMF ACADEMY
Artist development programme LIMF
Academy has unveiled the musicians
who have been chosen to benefit
from a suite of resources and activity
for the 2021-22 season.
The artists who have been deemed ‘most ready’ to
take on additional support and go on to the next level
of their careers are AMBER JAY, LAZYGIRL and NI
MAXINE. The trio of singer-songwriters will get time in
the studio, money towards their projects and tailored
support to advance in the music industry. A cohort of
seven other artists who will undertake a programme of
workshops and talks, as well as gain live opportunities
throughout the programme, consists of DAYZY,
SUPERLATE, HANNAH MORGAN, PHILLY D, CURES
AND CURSES, ALEXANDER and VAUNCE. The eclectic
bunch of musicians represent the best of Liverpool’s
next generation of musicians according to a panel of
music industry experts who sifted through hundreds of
applications after a call-out from the Academy earlier
this year. Previous alumni from the academy include Bido
Lito! cover artists Tee and Pizzagirl, as well as Michael
Aldag and Astles, who you’ll find in this edition of the
pink pages.
Amber Jay
EPSTEIN A GO GO
There’s good news for theatre-goers
as one of the city’s key venues is to be
given a new lease of life. Hanover Street’s
Epstein Theatre closed its doors in March
2020 due to the pandemic but is coming
back under new management. Bill Elms,
Chantelle Nolan and Jane Joseph are the
new leaseholders taking the reins from
the end of this year. The trio have many
years combined experience in both music
and theatre and a rich history with the
theatre formerly known as the Neptune.
The venue will retain a familiar
programme featuring a variety of shows
from musicals and comedy to dance and
plays. The vintage venue can seat 380
and is over 108 years old, giving every
audience a bit of Liverpool history while
watching a performance. The venue is
due to open in December and is now
booking for Beauty and the Beast as this
year’s pantomime.
Ian McCulloch and Will Seargent
BRING ON THE REISSUES
Echo & The Bunnymen have re-released their first four albums – Crocodiles, Heaven Up Here, Porcupine and Ocean Rain – on 180g
black vinyl, as well as on limited edition coloured vinyl available exclusively from Dig Vinyl. The reissues come as the celestial postpunkers
announce they will play a full UK and Irish tour in the spring of 2022 in celebration of their impressive 40-year career, which
has seen them earn 20 top 20 singles and nine top 20 albums all while helping to define the sound of a generation. The band play a
homecoming gig at Liverpool Philharmonic on 14th February.
NEWS 11

NEWS
SHED HEAVEN
North Yorkshire’s Deer Shed Festival have announced a stellar lineup
for their 2022 edition with a bevvy of top-quality artists including
two of Liverpool’s finest. The indomitable NADINE SHAH returns to
Topcliffe after a fabulous set at the family-friendly fest in 2018. She
is joined on the top line of the bill by the Queen of Denmark himself,
JOHN GRANT, and psych poppers DJANGO DJANGO. Merseyside is
represented by both BEIJA FLO. There are more Bido Lito! favourites
on the programme in the shape of DRY CLEANING, SNAPPED
ANKLES and KATY J PEARSON for what is a strong contender of
line-up of the summer. The festival have also announced Bristol
gig-going royalty and podcaster Big Jeff as artist-in-residence for the
12th iteration of the event, and the theme of Pocket Planet – with
programming and activities from all over the world.
deershedfestival.com
Nadine Shah (Fraser Taylor)
RADICAL LANDSCAPES AT TATE
An immersive, thought-provoking major exhibition is set to transform
Tate Liverpool in the summer 2022 to ask questions about land
ownership and our relationship with the landscapes of Britain.
Radical Landscapes open in May and will feature over 150 works
from artists such as Jeremy Deller, Ruth Ewan and Tacita Dean.
Ewan’s Back To The Fields 2015-22 is set to be a highlight, an
immersive installation made up of living plant installations, farming
tools and fruits of the land. Drawing on themes of trespass and
contested boundaries, the exhibition will explore our rights and
responses in accessing and exploring the countryside
tate.org.uk/visit/tate-liverpool
Radical Landscapes
LOVE TO SEE IT
Merseyside’s romance with 60s psych folk rockers LOVE is well
documented. Magazines have plucked their names from clubs they
frequented and countless Scouse indie bands have name-checked
seminal album Forever Changes as their eureka record. Even if the
band’s sun-kissed Californian homeland shares little in common with
Liverpool’s overcast environs, the cosmic connection is strong. It is
most exciting, then to welcome original member Johnny Echols to the
region for a three-night residency at Future Yard. Echols’ band LOVE
REVISITED is to play each of his and Arthur Lee’s copper-bottomed
classic long-players Love, Da Capo and Forever Changes in full
on respective June evenings (23rd-25th). There’s also a Saturday
afternoon Q&A with the guitarist. Expect tales of The Doors, The
Byrds and other Laurel Canyon luminaries. Argyle Street has never
been so groovy.
GOOD FOOD MOVEMENT
As part of a long-term strategy to address food insecurity and create
a city “where everyone can eat good food”, communities across
Liverpool are being invited to join the Good Food Plan. The plan,
drawn up by the Food Insecurity Task Force – a coalition including
Liverpool City Council and Feeding Liverpool – aims to end chronic
food insecurity, acute hunger, and the need for foodbanks, while
working to improve access to nutritious food in schools. The coalition
has found that 32 per cent of adults in Liverpool – home to three of
England’s 10 most economically deprived ‘food deserts’ – are food
insecure, while 14 per cent of households experience fuel poverty, a
number significantly higher than England’s average.
feedingliverpool.org
Tickets on sale now. futureyard.org
12

QUIZLETOE AND WINE
After a Covid-enforced break for the Christmas that never was, The
Bido Lito! Christmas Quiz is back on 13th December. Taking place
at Future Yard in association with Liquidation, the event will raise
money for the Whitechapel Centre and MIND charities. Expect the
usual frivolities around the serious business of music trivia and some
top-notch prizes on offer for the teams who come out victorious.
Teams who wish to flex their quiz muscles and put themselves in line
to get their names etched on the famous trophy and into the quiztory
books are invited to enter with tickets on sale now from the Bido
Lito! and Future Yard websites. Spaces are limited so act fast.
BIDO LITO! JOURNAL
The fifth edition of the annual Bido Lito! Journal lands in December.
Looking at 12 extraordinary months in the life of Liverpool’s new
music and creative culture, the premium coffee table magazine
distills features, opinion, images and more. Bido Lito! Members get
the journal as part of their subscriptions, while the book is available
to buy from the Bido Bandcamp page for £15. But hurry, it’s only
available while limited stocks last.
bidolito.bandcamp.com
bidolito.co.uk/whats-on
LIVERPOOL CARES
Baltic Triangle-based charity Liverpool Cares are on the look-out for new volunteers to join their network
of young people helping to reduce loneliness. The organisation run a programme of social clubs taking
place across the city every month, as well as their Love Your Neighbour initiative. Connecting older
and younger neighbours to combat isolation and anonymity, the charity does fantastic work to ensure
relationships flourish in an age of so much disconnection. In March this year volunteer Robyn, 24 was
matched with George, 81, due to their mutual passion for music. Robyn says: “We chatted about how
George met his wife, about the Liverpool music scene in the 60s and how George used to take his
Siamese kitten to Bold Street then into the Jacaranda basement! The cat loved it, apparently.” Find out
more on the charity’s website.
liverpoolcares.org.uk/get-involved
DOT-ART DARKROOM
Responding to the resurgence of interest in analogue mediums,
dot-art have established a new darkroom in Liverpool City Centre.
The space contains everything required to transform black and
white film into sharp negatives and monochrome photographs. The
darkroom will play host to a series of workshops, offering learning
opportunities for everyone; from complete beginners to more
advanced artists, to explore the potential of analogue photography
with the guidance of professional photographers Clare Bailey and
Rachel Brewster-Wright. Dot-art, the Queens Avenue-based gallery
and artist network, will also launch a darkroom membership for those
with significant darkroom experience, offering unlimited access and
expert guidance.
dot-art.co.uk/darkroom
Clare Bailey
Rachel Brewster-Wright
NEWS
13

LONG PLAYER
SHORT INTERVIEW
Raw, introspective and laced
with maturity. The release of
debut album Sun Outside My
Window marks a significant
moment for Strawberry Guy,
who takes a brief hiatus from
the flora and fauna for a Long
Player Short Interview.
The album’s eponymous track, Sun Outside My
Window, was the first single released. What were your
initial ideas when you were writing it?
Well, one day I was feeling pretty low, and sat down
at my keyboard and started playing the chords to the
song (which I had had for a while but hadn’t written
anything to them), and I remember the sun coming out
and beaming outside my window. It really lifted my
mood! So, the song is about that moment really and how
mother nature can really change our mood and lift us up
when we need it sometimes. It’s simple, but was a very
memorable moment for me, one that inspired the general
vibe of the album.
Could you tell us more about the beautiful impressionist
artwork for the single, and how this style feeds into
your output?
My mum really enjoyed Monet and I
remember seeing Monet prints and
impressionist prints around the house
growing up, so I was naturally drawn to
this style of art growing up really. I’m also
really inspired by 1800s Romantic period
composers like Debussy and Ravel, from
around the same time impressionist art
was beginning. I feel that my music
ties in very naturally with this style of
artwork.
You headed to sunny Wales for the
music video – what is it about the
natural landscape that lends itself to
new ideas that you otherwise might
not find in suburbia?
This was very near to where my
parents live and places I used to
visit when I was a child. I think the
direction my music is going in with
this new album is to have more ‘natural’ sounds, moving
away from synths. The city isn’t quite calm enough to tie
in to my music, I feel. I’ve never particularly been directly
inspired by the city.
Conceptually, how does this album differ from your
previous work?
It sounds more mature than others, really. I feel like I
matured and learned a lot about myself from writing this
album. So, the album addresses some of those things. I
feel like through writing it I grew a lot. Sonically, I feel like
it’s dryer and more raw than my earlier work. Especially
the last track on the album, A White Lie. I did the vocals
and piano all in one take at about 2am.
It’s no secret that your fans love creating their own
music videos using your work – do you have any standout
favourites, and why?
I saw one that had F Song tied to movie clips of
Atonement on Instagram once. Atonement is one of my
favourite books, so it was really wonderful to see clips
of the film accompanied by my music! Maybe one day
I’ll have one of my songs in an actual film, or compose
for one even, that would be a dream. I feel like my music
incorporates a lot of emotion that can work well with
painting a picture or telling a story for films, which I guess
is why fans have put these videos together.
Sun Outside My Window is available now via Melodic.
28 Oct 21 - 20 Feb 22
FUTURE AGES
WILL WONDER
FACT / 88 WOOD STREET
FREE ENTRY
Image: Yarli Allison, In 1875 We Met At the Docks of Liverpool 於 梨 花 埠 遇 上 (2021). Image by Rob Battersby.
14

HOT PINK!
Words: Sam Turner, Matthew Berks, El Gray,
David Roskin, Lily Blakeney-Edwards
Hot Pink! is the ever-evolving Bido Lito! playlist which showcases some of the most exciting
sounds coming from all corners of the Mersey music network. To submit your track for
contention, visit bidolito.co.uk/uploader. To hear the mix go to bit.ly/bidohotpink. Recently,
we’ve been vibing to electro-rock anthems, RnB bangers and melodic industrial noise. Dive in.
Tonia
Flux
Flux perfectly demonstrates the assets that made TONIA
a LIMF Academy Most Ready Artist in the last cohort.
Soulful yet vulnerable vocals ask whether his walls still
speak the singer’s name and if his dad still thinks she’s
insane (in the track’s few family-friendly lines). A lilting
RnB beat gives way to a distorted keyboard solo before
Tonia signs off with the ambiguous admission that lately
she’s been thinking. ST
Katy Alex
Maliblues
Exposing the vapid loneliness of extravagant wealth,
KATY ALEX’s Maliblues takes us to the dark side of LA to
prove diamonds aren’t always a girl’s best friend. Peeling
back the champagne-soaked layers of a fanciful Cali
lifestyle, its modern Gatsby-esque critique of materialism
is driven through with nostalgic synth and crisp
harmonies in a money-can’t-buy-love affirmation. MB
Police Car Collective
Famous
With the unstoppable rise of ‘internet kids with money’
and much of our burning world grinding to a desperate
halt following the recent six-hour hibernation of
Zuckerberg’s monster, POLICE CAR COLLECTIVE’s
Famous just hits different. Waxing lyrical about Instagram
clout, dopamine, pining for viral stardom and spending
money online to watch girls undress, the duo’s punching,
electro-rock anthem gobbles up all the unregulated
excesses of the modern internet age and spits them out
in all their seductive, disgusting glory. MB
Nikki & The Waves
in a cloud
Released on cassette as part of a two-song collection,
NIKKI & THE WAVES’ in a cloud is laced with a nostalgia
that is both tangible and formless. The track weaves
confessional lyricism, whining guitars and reassuringly
subtle brass to create a dreamy pop landscape which
reflects on the hallucinogenic quality of the past year.
Sung with an eye-rolling reluctance, this is music for
lonely, rain-soaked train journeys and car rides. EG
Crawlers
Come Over (Again)
Liverpool natives CRAWLERS have been taking over
the internet this year. Their latest self-titled EP is no
exception, racking up the streams at an incredible pace.
Come Over (Again) isn’t the Crawlers we expected, but
they excel in an almost classic rock ballad. Full of angst,
longing and pain, it’s testament to the range and talent
that lies within. DR
Shockchords
Shifting Sands
This latest drop from noisenik label Spine Records
and the debut single from experimental duo,
SHOCKCHORDS, is an absolute belter. A relentless but
pleasant percussive melody underpins a muttered croon
vocal with swirling atmospherics that put the listener on
edge before the fragments of a chorus bring the track to
a climactic revery. It’s a cover of The West Coast Pop Art
Experimental Band, but it’s still unlike anything else you’ll
hear. Unreal. ST
Natalie And The Monarchy
Angeline
The latest release from NATALIE AND THE MONARCHY
evokes the atmosphere of a late-night cabaret. Angeline’s
pacing mirrors the roller coaster of new-found love and
the obsession that can follow. What begins as a lulling,
bass-driven serenade soon reaches its panting climax,
with jaunty piano melodies and the artist’s crescendoing
vocals twisting the track into a frantic ballad of tormented
affection. LBE
Photography from left to right: Nikki & The Waves, Katy
Alex, Police Car Collective, Crawlers
HOT PINK!
15

Expires
wirralspendindependent.com
@wirralspendindependent

N I G H T
A T T H E
POSEUM
FEATURE
17

18

The House of Suarez Vogue Ball is a no-holds-barred
explosion of fierce inclusivity, positivity and celebration.
Founded by Darren Suarez, the event is a vital fixture
in Liverpool’s cultural calendar. Olive experiences
the event in all its self-love glory and speaks to the
house mother who each year makes it a reality.
“At this Vogue Ball baby, you belong!”
His lips are painted in pink glitter.
His sequin hot pants curve around fishnetted
stockings. His feet never settle for
a second.
On the runway this evening we see pose, we see
grace, we see sex, we see sea creatures and we see ‘clitpride’.
It is a chaos of bondage tape and glitter. It is a rare,
pure freedom of expression and artistic explosion. It is
the House of Suarez Vogue Ball, honey. Get into it.
Let’s rewind to the 1980s. We’re in the states,
New York City to be specific and it’s a bloodbath for the
LGBTQ+ community. While the majority of the white
hetero world preoccupies itself with boring things
like the stock market, brown suits and homophobia,
queer Black and latino bodies were building something
beautiful at the sidelines. Ballroom. A space for queer
expression where predominantly trans women and gay
men of colour could walk a runway head to toe in “looks”
designed to be “served” or “revealed” at the ball.
“Ballroom came from segregation. It comes from
a dark place of isolation,” Darren Suarez, founder of
House of Suarez and Liverpool’s balls, explains to me.
“It’s brutal in its story and its history.” It’s important to
honour this before we run away with our “yas kweens”
and “slay huns”. Darren adds: “It’s such a beautiful twist
how something so creative and beautiful came from [that
struggle].”
Ballroom offered a place for the LGBTQ+ community
to not only create, share and perform art for one another,
but it gave them a place of safety, family and security. In
most cases, it gave them a literal roof over their heads
where they lived with fellow dancers and walkers of the
ball. These groups operated as families, with a “mother”
taking care of all the waifs and strays taken under her
wings. These families are known as “houses” and at the
ball we see these houses compete in different categories
to celebrate dance, fashion, music and love.
As a House of Suarez dancer, Jack Dyche explains:
“A house is so much more than a company, it is your
chosen family.” Jack joined the family back in 2016 and
tells me, “I have found that I turn to my house to educate
and support me with things that my family and friends
outside of the [LGBTQ+] community can’t relate to.”
At the balls, house music, disco, drag and of course
vogue blossomed. Some of these art styles had already
been floating about (vogue itself began roughly back in
the 1960s) but they all bloomed at the ball. Voguing in
particular rocketed, a dance style created with elements
of hip hop, isolations and of course, posing.
Fast-forward to today, and the second floor of World
Museum Liverpool is all a pink glow. People adorned in
leather, feathers, sequins and silk decorate the space.
Flutes sparkle in elegant hands and fans flutter over
faces. The ball is about to begin.
“I’ve called it Night At The Poseum,” Darren tells me
in a café a few weeks prior, “and instead of it being just
one theme, each house will be given a different exhibition
to work with which will vary the runway and also bring
the museum to life.”
Across the course of the night, we see someone
hatch from an egg, four women embody lesbian sex
on stage, fierce dance battles and a lip sync that could
probably save a life (and I am not being dramatic in
saying this). We gorge ourselves on death drops and
bare skin, all screaming “I love myself!” because our host
Rikki Beadle-Blair tells us to, and because we mean it.
The environment Darren and his house create is
pouring with so much love and inclusivity, from the
second I step a white-heeled boot onto their floor, I feel
seen. “Our runway is a platform for people to feel like
they can be whatever they want to be,” Darren tells me,
his grounding energy rolling off him. “One of the things
I do believe in is increasing visibility. There are just not
enough safe spaces for [people to express themselves
and feel seen]. We can see it in Liverpool at the moment
“Vogue is a
way of life as
opposed to a
style of dance.
It’s an attitude”
FEATURE
19

with the amount of attacks happening. House of Suarez need to make sure we
keep working on how we support people.”
In addition to their aim to create a safe and inclusive space, House of Suarez
have created “an ecosystem” of voguers within the city. The ball nurtures new
artists to explore new styles, expand their creativity and gives opportunities for fresh
collaborations. “The balls are my ultimate favourite time of the year,” Jack says, after his
bold and unapologetic performance at the Poseum leaves flames in his wake. “Once
the theme has been chosen and promoted then the ideas and creativity start flowing.
You have your different categories: Fantasy, Sex Siren, Solo, Lip Sync and Choreography.
We work hard as a house to make sure the theme runs cohesively through all categories.
With collaborations from costume (Gordon Webber) to make-up and sound, we aim to
appeal to all senses.”
The night is glazed with empowerment, with all walks of life welcomed on the runway.
“We are working with DaDa [Disability and Deaf Arts organisation] and QTPOC [Queer
Trans People of Colour organisation]. We’ve also got Elements of Vogue which is an under
16s platform [who compete in a separate ball],” Darren outlines.
“My house is open to absolutely everyone,” Darren, or “Mama D” as he’s known to his
daughters, smiles. “I’m the mother of the house, or the father depending on your generation.
Whatever people want to call me.”
Darren is not only a house mother, but a commercial dancer and choreographer. In addition
to running the ball (which takes place three times a year after Darren brought the event to
Liverpool in 2008), he works alongside and trains dancers for festivals and other arts events
throughout the year.
“I learned to vogue in the 90s in Ibiza when it first came over from the States. The club kids
were over there, partying, and then that style came over to the UK,” Darren tells me. He speaks
eloquently, scooping up handfuls of stories from his well of knowledge as we chat. “Vogue is a way
of life as opposed to a style of dance. It’s an attitude, it’s a platform of presentation. Vogue helped
me through escapism when I was younger, running away from home and going through a hard time.
Coming onto the gay scene changed my life and my headspace. I needed that infrastructure. Voguing
really helped me to communicate with the world who I was as an adult. It gave me a family, however
dysfunctional,” his explanation is punctuated with a laugh.
The crowd inside the museum is wild with people snapping fingers, shimmying to the music and
shining with inner beauty. The room tastes like empowerment. A stunning celebration of queer love,
bodies and art which nourishes not only my soul but the soul of those surrounding me. At a time when
queer expression is threatened in Liverpool, nights like this instil hope for a community spreading only
love.
The Night At The Poseum reminds me that the LGBTQ+ family will continue to be what it has
always been. Resilient. Powerful. Beautiful. It is a community that deserves so much more than the
hostility it has had to face for years and is still facing today on our city streets.
The spirit of queer expression will never be contained, crushed or cracked. When in the face of
hate, queer expression will always push back. It is armed with beauty and free love. LGBTQ+ liberation
is simply a freedom of the mind, body and soul, and queerphobia will never suffocate these voices. It’s a
light too vibrant to destroy.
My eyes well with tears and my heart expands to those around me as Rikki strides down the runway,
he of the sequin hot pants curved around fishnets, proudly dressed as the queen he is and tells us: “You are
not too anything at this ball, baby. At this vogue ball you belong here!”
This here is such a beautiful place to belong to, I think I’ll stay for a while longer.
What a time to hold no fear. To boldly be here. What a time to be proud and queer. !
Words: Olive / @olive.writing
Photography: Daniel De La Bastide / @danieldelabastide
“A house is so much
more than a company, it
is your chosen family”
20

DOMINO 2021
JAMES YORKSTON & THE SECOND HAND ORCHESTRA THE WIDE, WIDE RIVER
FRÀNÇOIS & THE ATLAS MOUNTAINS BANANE BLEUE
OWEN PALLETT ISLAND
MATT SWEENEY & BONNIE ‘PRINCE’ BILLY SUPERWOLVES
VILLAGERS FEVER DREAMS
MATTHEW E. WHITE K BAY
TIRZAH COLOURGRADE
PORCHES ALL DAY GENTLE HOLD !
HAYDEN THORPE MOONDUST FOR MY DIAMOND
CLINIC FANTASY ISLAND
HARD FEELINGS HARD FEELINGS
JON HOPKINS MUSIC FOR PSYCHEDELIC THERAPY
RICHARD DAWSON & CIRCLE HENKI
www.dominomusic.com

FREE ENTRY DONATIONS WELCOME

MICHAEL
ALDAG
Underneath the slick veneer of viral
TikTokdom, Michael Aldag offers new
ways of understanding our bizarre
world. Orla Foster logs off and tunes
into the multifaceted artist to discuss
modern romance, social media and
switching off in our always-on world.
FEATURE
23

I’m meeting MICHAEL ALDAG outside so we can
talk about the internet. It’s one of those perfect New
Brighton mornings: flinty sunlight, Cornettos in each
hand and a breeze sharp enough to make your eyes
stream. Considering so much of the TikTok star’s music is
tied up with the pains of online communication, the fresh
air will probably do us both good. “I spend most of my life
looking at a phone screen,” he admits.
At least New Brighton is distracting. He’s heavily
nostalgic about the place, having spent many solitary
evenings here over lockdown, staring out across the water
lost in thought. When it comes to his hometown of West
Kirby, though, he’s less misty-eyed. “I never did much there.
Sometimes me and my mates would go the park where
pensioners played bowls, and hide in the bushes throwing
grapes,” he reflects. “Once we got chased by this old man,
which was one of the biggest rushes of my whole life.”
Juvenile deviancy aside, Michael’s backstory has a
wholesome ring to it. He kicked off his singing career as
a shepherd in the school nativity, joined the Liverpool
Philharmonic Youth Choir at 14, then picked up an acoustic
guitar to play open mic nights. The early songs were more
earnest than his recent material, penned with a degree of
maturity he now finds absurd. “I was a very small, ginger
boy, and it was quite hard to get taken seriously. So,
writing songs felt like a superpower. I could play an open
mic and people would start listening. They’d say, ‘Ah, you
sound like you’ve lived so many lives!’”
At 16, he discovered Logic Pro and started producing
his own music, replacing stripped-back compositions with
big synths and tight hooks. His writing developed a wry
edge, satirising peers in songs like the Lorde-inflected
Arrogance, and Trust Funds (picture Common People if
the guy took the path of least resistance and just lapped
24
up the freebies). Being accepted onto the Levi’s Music
Project and LIMF Academy allowed him to experiment
even further.
Musically, his influences are stadium-leaning. He loves
Bastille and The 1975, but above all The Killers, whose
biblical live shows convinced him to give music a shot. “It’s
the level of emotion. There’s always a point in the song
where it’s really heart-wrenching and climactic, which I
love. When I saw them live, I realised I wanted to have
that effect.” He’s equally devoted to the confessional lyrics
of Phoebe Bridgers, and rap artists like Headie One. It all
boils down into honest, quirky and idiosyncratic songs that
nevertheless activate whichever muscle makes people
want to wave lighters in the air and clamber onto each
other’s shoulders.
But, when lockdown happened, TikTok became his
stage instead. He started creating droll clips about people
his age enduring Freshers’ Week in breakout rooms, or
uploading pictures of gift-wrapped cars they couldn’t drive.
It’s the same posturing he dissects in his lyrics. As Entitled
puts it: “My crisis is bigger than yours is / When I cry I look
gorgeous, and you should too”. This plain-speaking critique
of the online rituals of his generation struck a chord, and
his following swiftly rocketed.
Blowing up on TikTok, however, meant building a
purely virtual fanbase, only encountering followers months
later when fully-formed crowds materialised at his first
live shows: “It was weird to see all these people that had
just been a number on a screen actually there singing the
songs. I kept taking out my in-ear to listen because it was
the biggest buzz ever.” Most of us didn’t emerge from
lockdown to a roomful of people screaming our name, but
TikTok’s deceptively intimate, parasocial format made fans
feel they knew him personally.
This, one might suspect, is helped in large part by
his distinctive appearance. We pass a barber shop, and
he flinches. He’s protective of the red curls that make
him immediately recognisable, and no, he would not
like to risk a portrait in the barber’s chair. We agree the
trauma of bad haircuts runs deep. I had a friend with hair
like his as a teenager, and he spent his life fending off
girls who wanted to touch it and straighten it at house
parties. Michael nods as if to say he’s been there before.
“Pensioners, mostly. I was in Morrisons and a lady came
up and grabbed it. And at a festival this lad recognised me
in the crowd and kept leaning over to ruffle it. I was like,
‘Alright, cheers, but stop now!’”
Besides women in supermarkets, plenty of people seem
to want a piece of Michael Aldag. Talking to those around
him, I hear about producers phoning from LA, clothing
brands cramming his wardrobe, young girls swooning on
the front row of sold-out shows. In September, TikTok even
swept him and various other creators off to London Fashion
Week, inspiring bitter broadsheet column inches about
teenagers bagsying the best seats.
At 19, he’s still in the thick of everything, so the songs
are often “super raw” and charged with emotion. Tonsillitis
and Divorce are particularly lacerating, because writing
them got him through a major break-up, not to mention
lockdown. He battled through endless drafts before
getting to the heart of what he really wanted to say. “I was
at rock bottom, but I found some kind of solace in writing,”
he says. “And once I’d written them, I was like, ‘Cool, I can
move on from this whole situation’.”
Tonsillitis opens by invoicing an ex for lunch, petrol
and six months of bellyaching, before describing his
granddad’s funeral going by without so much as a call
from the other person. This is a recurring theme in the

songs: people are permanently online yet fail to connect.
Does he think everyone is so used to passively watching
life unfold from a screen that they forget to reach out when
it matters? “Yeah, you can have so many interactions with
people that are just surface level,” he muses. “It’s complex
because it’s easy to message a lot of people, and mistake
that for something more meaningful than it is.”
Divorce is even more brutal. Rather than projecting
a picture-perfect relationship, the lyrics hold up a girl’s
mother as a damning blueprint of their future together,
with flash-forwards to her sourly heaping on criticism
and boring him senseless with Botox chat while he’s
left “crying in our bedroom because we’re selling the
apartment”. It’s a song in which absolutely nobody is living
their best life. What a relief. “I tend to be a bit meaner in
lyrics than I probably am in real life,” he continues. “But
I just want my music to be honest, you know? If I was
too scared, I’d write generic songs that wouldn’t upset
anybody, but also wouldn’t move anybody, in any way.”
Meanwhile, recent single Ghosted takes a more playful
tack. It’s about two people second-guessing each other
online: they pore over each other’s stories and shower
each other with likes, until communications suddenly and
inexplicably cease. The video is a riot of colour one minute,
a washed-out swell of grey tracksuits the next: a comment
on the ways people use social media to portray life at its
most bouncy and hyper-saturated, no matter what else is
going on. Considering the girl in question hates his songs
and recoils from his star-sign, getting ghosted should
come as a relief, but instead he’s left obsessively refreshing
her Snapchat score.
“If your Snapchat score is high, it means you’re very
active, you’ve sent a lot of texts. I’ve known people with
really high scores who just ping things to everyone. It’s
like they’re running a network of drama.” A pause. “I’m
complicit in this. I’m by no means playing God and saying
everyone’s doing all these things wrong. If you have a high
Snapchat score, maybe you just talk to your friends a lot,
and I’m bitter that I don’t.”
Except now he’s in the position where people are
pinging things at him from every platform. With so many
eyes awaiting your next move, you’re inevitably going to
amplify some features and minimise others, a quandary
he’s all too aware of: “You present a caricature of yourself
to protect who you actually are. That’s what Ghosted is
about; you’re trying to build this thing online that you have
to keep up. At the risk of sounding like I’m doing GCSE
English, it’s a façade. I’m definitely guilty of that.”
For artists who enjoy – and ultimately depend on –
building fanbases online, knowing when to disconnect and
when to engage is a difficult but necessary balance. “Social
media is a useful tool to harness, especially for music. But
your stability and happiness are also on the line, so it’s
very intricate and weird.” Still, a bit of online mythmaking
is better than letting chats shrivel up and die, a frustration
highlighted in the imaginary dialogues of Conversation,
and TikToks with titles such as ‘when someone replies to
your text with yeah aha’. It’s all too easy to commiserate.
On MSN, it was so awful when people torpedoed the
conversation with ‘true’ or ‘fair enough’.
He shrugs. “Yeah, at that point it’s like pitching jelly
up a hill. The conversation’s dead. You just have to start
valuing your time, so if somebody hits you with an ‘ahaha’
then just be like, ‘Alright, that’s the end of that’.” Surely
a drop of self-doubt is required to write as scathingly as
Michael Aldag does about being ignored or tearing your
hair out over half-arsed DMs. But, at the same time, he
doesn’t seem hesitant at all. Between our conversations,
he bounces in front of the camera as though he was born
to do it; the New Brighton waves lash over his trainers as
he leans in to catch the best light. Later, in the café, I watch
him gnaw obligingly on a piece of toast from every angle,
the shutter going full pelt.
He’s soft-spoken, but eager to engage, tugging a
chain between his teeth as he carefully weighs up each
response. He recognises things are taking off but seems
self-deprecating and occasionally embarrassed by the
hype. He reels off his immediate plans, which include
photoshoots with LFC, a forthcoming single and two gigs
before the month is out but admits to feeling stressed by
the realisation he can never switch off.
So, let’s fast-forward around a week. Like any musical
tale worth its salt, this one finishes up on stage: he’s been
booked for Live at Leeds festival, and dutifully brings his
A-game. At intimate venues like the students’ union bar
we’re stood in, it’s hard to predict if a soaring crescendo or
big chorus is going to land – but Michael’s got the measure
of the place. He dominates the stage, raising the microphone
high above his head and belting out every line from the
heart. Hangovers melt away. The pop Gods are appeased.
And then the sad songs arrive, with a disclaimer. “If
you don’t want to be miserable, you can just go on your
phone,” he tells the crowd with a grin. Finally, there’s your
permission from Michael Aldag to go ahead and ignore him
while he’s spilling his guts. But honestly? You’ll be much
better off if you just stick your phone on flight mode and
hear the guy out. The doomscrolling can wait. !
Words: Orla Foster
Photography: Anthony Wilde / @evolving_necessary
Love of my Life is available on 3 rd December via 3beat.
“Social media is a
useful tool to harness.
But your stability and
happiness are also on
the line, so it’s very
intricate and weird”
FEATURE
25

26

YAW OWUSU
Yaw Owusu continues to change the Liverpool music landscape with LIMF, but the festival and
its Academy are only a small part of a 17-year career platforming talent and championing the
underdog. Sam Turner sits down with the creative playmaker as he looks to the next chapter.
As we come to the end of a near two-hour
chat, YAW OWUSU makes an interesting
and revealing analogy. Before striding away
across the upper levels of Liverpool One
he tells me why he turned away from the A&R and the
‘hype’ side of the music industry. In quite dramatic terms,
Owusu likens a musician missing their chance in the
industry to someone getting shot. “These are people’s
lives… it isn’t a war story,” he says animatedly, starting
to describe an imaginary battlefield. “If we were going
across and he was getting shot, they said ‘Go’ and then
were like, ‘Oh, we thought he could go…’ and then he
died. You killed him, career-wise, he doesn’t make music
anymore.” Owusu is in fact referring to an artist he
worked with, an incredibly talented musician who graced
the front of Bido Lito! and has admirers across Liverpool’s
music community. He no longer makes music due to their
craft not being appreciated by the powers that be.
It’s a common story, but one that hurts when you
care as much as Owusu does. Stopping to talk only
between the time necessary to see off a Pizza Express
margarita, Owusu outlines the various motivations behind
his many achievements in a 17-year career in the music
industry. It’s a career that has taken him from helping out
his cousin to being the go-to for internationally significant
brands and record labels. “I know what connects all
this now,” he tells me at one point. It was only during
lockdown that he was able to take off his many hats –
manager, curator, producer, consultant – for long enough
to take stock and work out some common themes of his
work, as well as identify what he wants to do and what
he does best.
A central motivation for Owusu from the beginning
has been a yearning to ensure talent gets the help it
needs and the opportunity it deserves. “Artists have a
window, they only have a short period of time,” Owusu
says. “I’d say, when you get to 27, 28, it becomes harder
to justify trying to make it as an artist. So, we’ve all got
to work a way to spot the talent early and get them
to the next stage where it’s on them, and the industry
structure, to do whatever they can do.” Specifically, he is
talking about the proliferation of opportunities for artist
development which have been established in Liverpool
in the wake of his LIMF Academy. But, moreover, it’s
obvious the thought is a driving force behind much more
of what he does.
The Academy started at the same time as Liverpool
International Music Festival in 2013 and is a prime
example of Owusu’s skillset and ambition manifesting
themselves into a successful initiative that benefits young
musicians as well as the city. While the festival and the
Academy are perhaps well-known hallmarks of the selftitled
creative consultant’s output, they are only a small
part of the story.
The desire to help artists and realise talent began
with Owusu helping his cousin, Kof. An artist out of the
first wave of East London’s early noughties grime scene,
Young Kof (his artist name at the time) wanted to make
it on Merseyside after being transplanted to the region
for university at Edge Hill. Owusu was fresh out of a law
degree and unable to take a US basketball scholarship
due to injury. Accepting his aunt’s request, he managed
Kof and quickly found that opportunities for a rapper in
Liverpool were limited. “Our whole thing at the beginning
was to start a company, a music culture entity,” Owusu
says of those early days. “We’d make music and release
music, but we’d drive the culture forward.” However,
while RnB and associated genres were being supported
in the clubs in Liverpool, an infrastructure for original
music was lacking. This helped to inspire the formation of
Urbeatz – a multimedia creative organisation specialising
in a range of services, including artist management,
consultancy, film and design.
Kof was the creative force in the Urbeatz operation
and Owusu provided the organisation, the business
acumen, as well as a keen ear for “what music should
feel like”. Creating the requisite labels, club nights and
radio shows for the music they felt needed to heard led
to more and more opportunities and more and more
influence on listening habits in Liverpool. At a time when
urbeatz.com was banned in schools across Merseyside
(too many pupils were logging on during lessons),
Owusu and Young Kof were taking to the national
airwaves via a regular slot on BBC Radio 1Xtra. At the
same time, schools and arts organisations were hiring
the duo to engage audiences with Black music and its
heritage, and quarterly mixtapes were selling out as fast
as they were dropping. Out of sheer necessity, Urbeatz
was the only game in town which sated a hunger for new
voices in rap and
hip hop – voices
with Liverpool
accents – while
educating
people on the
city’s rich
Black music
legacy.
FEATURE
Having establised Urbeatz at a grassroots level,
Owusu furthered his ambitions by founding the agency
Nothin But The Music (NBTM) which worked with
national and international brands curating events such
as the MOBOs when they came to Liverpool. NBTM also
continued to release music, secure sync opportunities
and build on the solid local foundations in various facets
of the music industry. While at Radio 1Xtra Owusu met
Ray Paul, whose entertainment company The Playmaker
Group partnered with NBTM. Kof stepped back into the
studio to go back to his first love of creating and Owusu
continued his mission of driving the culture forward as
well as indulging another of his loves – storytelling.
Dropping in anecdotes about giving Shaggy his
opinion on new releases and overseeing Wiley’s record
label operation, while carefully charting the trajectory of
a rapidly accelerating career, it’s clear that Owusu is a
gifted raconteur. What is interesting is how the Maghull
man has transposed this skill to large-scale projects and
events to reclaim narratives. “What attracted me about
LIMF is being able to tell a different narrative for the city
of Liverpool, a contemporary one,” Owusu tells me.
It’s difficult to underplay the sea change that
Liverpool International Music Festival represented for
the city. The event, and its academy off-shoot, blew
open the narrow parameters of music representation
on Merseyside. It changed the narrative. On a train back
27

from London in 2012, Owusu and Kof were debating
whether to put their hat into the ring for what would be
the successor to the ailing Mathew Street Festival. At the
time, Liverpool City Council were putting out to tender
ideas for a new event which would replace the festival of
tribute acts that took over the city centre every August.
“It was the usual suspects, so I thought, ‘I’m not going
there because I’m not part
of that Liverpool’,” was
Owusu’s argument against
answering the call. “They
carve up the city for them
and I try to get people
involved. I still don’t feel
part of that Liverpool.” In
the end, the pair came to
an agreement: “I’d just go
and say whatever I want
knowing that it’ll probably
just piss them off and they
won’t want to go with it.
[I’d] just be honest.”
The plan didn’t work.
A Culture Liverpool
representative (the
council’s creative arm)
rang Owusu the next
day inviting him to be the
curator of the first LIMF. “I
didn’t know what a curator
was,” Owusu admits. The
gauntlet was thrown down
to overcome the politics
that come with realising
the flagship event for a
music city, commissioned
by the local authority. The
curator would need to placate an array of stakeholders
while achieving something altogether more progressive
than Classic Clapton on the Water Street Stage.
“We’ve all got to
work a way to
spot the talent
early and get
them to the next
stage where it’s
on them, and the
industry structure,
to do whatever
they can do”
A sprawling programme of events taking place
over several weeks across venues city-wide showcased
Liverpool legends such as Deaf School and The
Christians, while the world of contemporary pop was
represented by the likes of JLS and Ady Suleiman.
There were also artists such as Martha Wainwright,
Steve Mason and All We Are making appearances.
The inaugural event
managed to live up to its
promise of representing
the city’s past, present
and future. “My focus is
project design but for
brands, organisations
and creatives that are
internationally focused,”
Owusu tells me, and with
LIMF 2013 he had aligned
the city’s contemporary
music ambitions with his
own.
Such brands on
Owusu’s CV have latterly
included Levi’s and PRS
Foundation. As disparate
as the jeans company’s
artist development
programme seem to the
music charity’s Power Up
initiative to fight industry
inequality, Owusu feels
they are linked. He lays
out the challenges in
each project, “Levi’s
coming to Liverpool,
they could get that really
wrong. Power Up want
to do this national programme. There’s loads of things
to think about [such as] intersectionality, regionality,
nations, politics, [it has to be] commercially interesting
to the labels and investors. [They’re] the underdog here,”
Owusu explains. “Kof: underdog, Urbeatz: underdog…”
Which leads us onto his most recent project and another
initiative which marries up his passions and calls on his
accrued experience and talents.
The second edition of On Record festival took place
in October to November. Three weeks of events which
celebrate contemporary Black music in Liverpool as
well as finally giving due prominence to the artists and
projects which came before. The programme is typically
ambitious and thought-provoking. Black music in
Liverpool has a rich, proud heritage but is somehow the
underdog. On Record looks to shine a light on this history
while ensuring the next generation get the kudos they
deserve.
One strand in particular captures Owusu’s raison
d’être. The Liverpool ONE Project: Take Two looks to
a selection of artists operating in Liverpool 10 years
ago making Black music and representing the zenith
of their disciplines. In partnership with the University
of Liverpool, Urbeatz mapped the artists’ projects and
analysed the opportunities they got to make it out of their
local scene. A decade later only three of the 12 artists still
make music.
It’s saddening and all too familiar, again resonating
with Owusu’s war story analogy. The On Record project
will look at whether things have changed in 2021. The
staggeringly talented Koj, P3lz and Remée are three of 20
artists who’ll hopefully be given more resources to fulfil
their potential and pick up the baton in a very different
Liverpool. Owusu has played no small part in making that
difference. The likes of LIMF Academy and Levi’s Music
Project provide the development, LIMF festival affords the
opportunities and myriad other national and international
brands look on as the talent that should be platformed
is getting the spotlight it deserves and there are fewer
career casualties. !
Words: Sam Turner / @SamTurner1984
Photography: Robin Clewley / Robinclewley.co.uk
28

BOOK NOW: 0161 832 1111
MANchesteracademy.net
THE DARKNESS
FRIDAY 3RD DECEMBER
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
S-X
SATURDAY 29TH JANUARY
ACADEMY 3
BIG THIEF
THURSDAY 24TH FEBRUARY
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
THE FRATELLIS
FRIDAY 18TH MARCH
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
A TRIBUTE TO
MANCHESTER
FRIDAY 10TH DEC, MCR ACADEMY
DRY CLEANING
FRIDAY 25TH FEBRUARY
ACADEMY 2
THE BLUE STONES
SATURDAY 19TH MARCH
ACADEMY 3
AVATAR
SUNDAY 9TH JANUARY
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
PROSE
SATURDAY 29TH JANUARY
ACADEMY 2
NADA SURF
FRIDAY 25TH FEBRUARY
ACADEMY 3
AMBER MARK
WEDNESDAY 23RD MARCH
ACADEMY 2
AFFLECKS PALACE
FRIDAY 14TH JANUARY
ACADEMY 2
CHEAP TRICK
WEDNESDAY 2ND FEBRUARY
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
ROSS FROM FRIENDS
SATURDAY 26TH FEBRUARY
ACADEMY 2
GREENTEA PENG
THURSDAY 24TH MARCH
ACADEMY 2
SONS OF THE EAST
SATURDAY 5TH FEBRUARY
ACADEMY 3
THE VINTAGE CARAVAN
THURSDAY 24TH MARCH
ACADEMY 3
THE SHED PROJECT
SATURDAY 15TH JANUARY
ACADEMY 3
SABA
THURSDAY 3RD MARCH
ACADEMY 2
JAPANESE BREAKFAST
SATURDAY 26TH MARCH
ACADEMY 2
FICKLE FRIENDS
TUESDAY 18TH JANUARY
CLUB ACADEMY
FRANK TURNER AND
THE SLEEPING SOULS
SUN 6TH FEB, MCR ACADEMY
BLACKBERRY SMOKE
FRIDAY 4TH MARCH
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
THE QUEEN EXPERIENCE
SATURDAY 26TH MARCH
ACADEMY 3
LIME CORDIALE
THURSDAY 20TH JANUARY
ACADEMY 3
BELLE AND SEBASTIAN
MONDAY 7TH FEBRUARY
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
THE CRIBS
SUNDAY 6TH MARCH
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
EMOTIONAL ORANGES
SUNDAY 27TH MARCH
ACADEMY 2
GODSPEED YOU!
BLACK EMPEROR
SAT 22ND JAN, MCR ACADEMY
TEDDY SWIMS
SUNDAY 13TH FEBRUARY
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
JADE BIRD
SUNDAY 27TH MARCH
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
BLOOD RED SHOES
SATURDAY 22ND JANUARY
ACADEMY 3
SNAIL MAIL
FRIDAY 18TH FEBRUARY
ACADEMY 2
WHITE LIES
FRIDAY 11TH MARCH
MANCHESTER ACADEMY
BLOODYWOOD
MONDAY 28TH MARCH
CLUB ACADEMY
FACEBOOK.COM/MANCHESTERACADEMY
@MANCACADEMY
FOR UP TO DATE LISTINGS VISIT MANChesteracademy.net

30
Alcohol as currency: is
Liverpool’s booze-fuelled
music scene reaching
breaking point? El Gray speaks
to some of the city’s creatives
choosing sobriety.

ENERATION
SOBER
There are some things that are more important
than a name. For some people, numbers have
more gravity. Markings of time etched onto
identity. Personal anniversaries: six months,
two years, four years. The minutes matter. I’m talking
to a handful of musicians, photographers and DJs about
their experiences of sobriety within the music and
clubbing scene. Each conversation begins the same, with
a confirmation of dates and times, a reestablishment of
the self through time travel. These conversations are
becoming louder, more prevalent. In September 2021,
in the incongruous setting of District, a conversation
occurred on the emergence of sobriety in the dance
music scene, as part of the Electronic Sound Summit.
In the absence of vibrating bass and propulsive lights,
District echoed instead with personal testimonies and
contemplations on the reality of substances and sobriety
within the scene. The discussion hints at a creeping trend
towards sobriety both in wider society and within the
world of music and clubbing.
The pandemic accelerated this trend. According to
Alcohol Change UK, around four million people embraced
sobriety during the first lockdown. Although isolation
and boredom led some to drink more, sharpening the
extremes, the result was the same: a re-examination of
our relationship with substances, both individually and
collectively. Ubiquity is the same as invisibility. Within the
music and nightlife scenes, drug and alcohol consumption
FEATURE
G
are so prevalent and ingrained that they appear innate,
unseen and assumed. Sobriety pierces this invisibility,
revealing the reality of the sector’s unhealthy addiction to
substances, and the possibilities for recovery.
Addiction is often framed as a dichotomy, divided
between caricatures of addicts desperately searching
for another fix and those who use substances without
an issue, frivolous and blasé. However, the reality is
more of a spectrum, varying from casual use to an
uncomfortable dependence, a sentiment echoed across
those who are sober within the industry. Josh Miller,
vocalist and bassist for Eyesore & The Jinx, is six months
sober. “I knew I had a funny relationship with the booze,”
he explains. “I wasn’t an alcoholic or anything like that
31

and that’s not really why I’ve given up. But I also didn’t
have a healthy relationship with alcohol.” Gary Lambert,
a music photographer, is 27 months sober and holds a
similar perspective. “I’ve never been alcohol dependent,
but now I know I have problems with how I used alcohol.”
The stories are different, but the conclusion is the same.
At some point, substance use became abuse, forcing
a reassessment of their relationship with substances
altogether.
Lee Butler, one of Liverpool’s most prominent DJs,
is over five years sober. Butler co-founded Break Free, a
community interest company supporting those struggling
with substance abuse. He reveals the reality of this
spectrum of addiction. “The first thing most people say
to me when they reach out, whether it’s a girl, a mum, a
dad, a young lad, is, ‘I haven’t got an addiction. I’m just
drinking and using every weekend. I don’t use every day. I
don’t use through the week. But the weekend comes and
I’m using through the weekend and it’s starting to affect
me through the week’.”
Substances are associated with release, a
detachment from yourself, stresses and social norms,
allowing for an imagined freedom and shedding of
responsibility. In this way, they are inherently connected
to weekend nightlife. A 2020 ONS report indicated that
the use of powder cocaine was 12 times higher among
those who had visited a nightclub at least four times in
the past month (19.1 per cent) compared with those who
had not visited a nightclub (1.6 per cent). This association
suggests the extent to which the music and nightlife
scene normalises excessive drug use and potentially
obscures addictive behaviour. “[People] don’t know any
different,” Lee Butler explains.
“I didn’t. I was convinced that
was the norm. I needed to
drink and take drugs to go to
work, to go to clubs, to go to
raves.” It creates an illusory
sense that drugs are innate
to music and nightlife, to the
extent that it becomes difficult
to imagine a gig or an event
without them. “In retrospect,”
Miller continues, “since I’ve
stopped drinking, I’ve realised
that it’s not just socialising,
everything [is] kind of more
geared towards alcohol rather than the actual socialising.
For example, going to gigs, it wasn’t so much about going
to watch a band or an artist, it was more to go and have
a few drinks.”
This reliance on substances as a form of escapism is
exacerbated by underlying mental health issues, seeking
the diluting effects of intoxication. Alcohol and drugs
are often confined within the paradigm of “weekend
escapism”, employed as a means to disengage after a
long week, notes Matthew Thomas Smith, member of
Psycho Comedy, co-founder of JARG Poetry and four
years sober. “I’d had suicidal ideation and I’d been on and
off anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication; I’d been
self-medicating with drugs and alcohol,” he continues,
plainly. “I always found myself turning to the bottle.” Gary
Lambert reiterates this seductive escapism. “I would drink
because, after a while, I knew my mind would go numb
[…] Come Friday, 5pm, I knew that I could have as many
drinks as I wanted all weekend, and I wouldn’t have to
think about work until 9am on Monday.”
Mental health issues are more prominent within the
music community; a 2018 report by the Music Industry
Research Association indicated that 50 per cent of
musicians reported symptoms of depression, compared
to less than 25 per cent of the general population,
suggesting a pre-existing vulnerability to addiction
among artists. This vulnerability is heightened, and
the pursuit of sobriety challenged, by an environment
saturated with the constant presence of drugs and
alcohol, and an atmosphere which normalises excessive
consumption. “The whole cultural scene seems to be built
around having a bevvy,” Smith reflects “So I do find it
difficult […] I will go to gigs and events, but I have to set
quite a few boundaries to protect myself.”
This sense of a necessary symbiosis between drugs
and music is intensified by an underlying mythology
and romanticisation. Historically, drugs and alcohol have
been perceived as integral to the image of the reckless
“My addiction really
tried to convince
me I will not be able
to keep my job if I
stopped drinking
and using drugs”
and defiant rock star, the transcendent creative, and
necessary for access into certain ‘networking’ spaces.
There’s an “obsession with nostalgia, the idea that bands
were more rock ‘n’ roll” in the past, Lambert indicates.
Miller agrees that “You’ll always have that bullshit NME
journalist who’s peddling this myth of sex, drugs and rock
‘n’ roll and we go out and we get wrecked, and we do as
much coke as we can because that’s what bands do [...]
that’s still lingering in the communities that we move in –
the mythologising of that kind of lifestyle.”
The pressure to fulfil this mythologised role can
make sobriety seem impossible within the music and
clubbing scene. “My addiction really tried to convince
me I will not be able to keep my job if I stopped drinking
and using drugs,” Butler says, “It really used the link of
music and nightlife to talk to me, to tell me, ‘Well, that’s
it then, if you pack drinking in and snorting, you’re not
going to be able to fucking work anymore’.” He eloquently
externalises what it’s like to be consumed by addiction;
repeating demanding instructions, examples of the
dialogues that once occupied his head, conversations
influenced by the romanticisation of drugs within the
scene.
This glamourisation of overconsumption is possibly
more persuasive in Liverpool, reinforcing the challenge of
sobriety within the city. “Liverpool will always be a city of
excess,” explains Smith, rooted in a defiant determination
to prove ourselves against tired clichés and internalised
stereotypes. “I think a lot of those [stereotypes] have
stuck to us a bit and we have them in our heads
sometimes. I think it makes us want to prove ourselves
even more. But that can be in ways that aren’t necessarily
productive.” Substance use
becomes “almost competitive
as people look to be the one
who can go wildest”, Lambert
notes. Butler remembers
“drinking Saturday, Sunday,
Monday. I’d be sitting up in
mine on a Monday, still getting
coke delivered and then taking
sleeping tablets at night. I’d
wake up Wednesday and I’d
be boasting to my friends
on the phone, ‘Ah, I was on
it Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
Monday’, ‘Oh, you’re fucking
boss, you’. That’s the culture, we boast about it […] That’s
where addiction starts”.
Despite this persuasive mythology, the truth is that
sobriety is more provocative and defiant. “Rock ‘n’ Roll
is supposed to be radical and revolutionary,” Smith says,
“but ale, by its very makeup and its chemistry, dulls
you and dilutes all of that.” Sobriety has provided an
enhanced presence, creativity and control, revealing the
limitations of intoxication. “I’ve been more present over
the last few years. Everything I’m writing just feels a lot
more truthful,” Smith states. However, this presence is
challenging in itself, creating a heightened awareness
and sense of responsibility for audiences’ behaviour. “I
think noticing things in the crowd and people’s behaviour
is still something I’m getting used to, and something I’m
trying to ignore while I’m playing so I can enjoy myself
a little bit more,” Miller admits. He was unaware of how
much he relied on “having some alcohol beforehand to
settle [his] nerves” but acknowledges “one of the perks
of being sober is that I’m a lot more in control of my
actions and emotions”. Lambert indicates the seriousness
sobriety has lent to his craft: “Now, the thought of doing
something that would weaken my chances of getting the
photo I want is such an alien concept to me.”
There is evidence that the romanticisation of drugs
within the scene is fading. “I think people are becoming
a little wiser to the bullshit of that kind of myth,” Miller
says. The younger generation are more health conscious,
aware of “what they’re putting into their body” and
critical of received wisdom and systems. Lambert
highlights the changing attitudes towards sobriety:
“There’s not just more people becoming sober, but there’s
also a lot more understanding and acceptance of people
who are sober.” Sobriety is vulnerable to connotations
of solemnity, there is a gravity and a restraint attached
to it that feels limiting, antonymous to the frivolity and
hedonism of the nightlife scene. However, in reality,
sobriety is more immersive, engaging and unflinching – a
direct interaction with the moment and yourself. There is
nothing revolutionary about escapism.
Addiction and consumption habits are often framed
as individual choices, perceived as either a consequence
of individual restraint or indulgence. However, structural
factors embed substances within the music scene,
ensuring sobriety – or even simply participating less
– remains elusive. Within the grassroots music scene,
alcohol is currency. “It’s absolutely ingrained in the
culture,” Miller explains. “You might only get £50 for a
show but you get your beer as well. It’s kind of unspoken.
That’s what the fee is. The alcohol tops up the fee and
it’s taken as currency in the community.” Although
understandable in the face of tight overheads and
limited funding, this reliance on alcohol can perpetuate
problematic relationships with substances. “You’re
potentially feeding someone’s habit. It’s well intentioned,
but it’s pretty detrimental to everyone’s wider health,”
Miller admits. “There should be an acknowledgement
that not everyone drinks,” Smith says, referencing the
constant presence of alcohol on artist riders. Miller
explains the challenge this poses to sobriety: “It’s almost
like it’s testing you. It’s an extra layer for you to overcome
and an extra hurdle for you to deal with.”
Alcohol’s currency status also operates to maintain a
poor economic model, failing to value artists adequately.
Although he suggests alternative payment options,
such as offering vouchers for studio sessions, Lambert
indicates that there is “no solution until there are other
ways of creating value at the lowest end of the food
chain”. Miller agrees, suggesting that “it’s part of a wider
cultural issue about Britain not really taking artists
seriously. People want something for nothing. Until that
attitude changes, I don’t see how we can implement the
changes needed”.
This economic reliance on alcohol is mirrored across
the music and nightlife sector. According to the Music
Venue Trust, 65 per cent of income for grassroots music
venues comes from their wet sales, stating that “it is not
possible to deliver an economically viable event in this
sector without the financial support provided by alcohol
sales”. Meanwhile, the council’s #DrinkLessEnjoyMore
campaign reveals the tension between prioritising
nightlife as vital for the city’s economy while not
promoting unhealthy substance use. Alcohol’s economic
importance forces venues and nightlife operators to
encourage excessive consumption and reveals the
possible threat posed by increasing sobriety; if trends
towards sobriety continue, music venues may struggle to
operate.
However, Liverpool has always been a pioneer
of experimental and innovative nightlife. Embracing
sobriety offers an opportunity for a more creative use of
music venues, providing a sanctuary from the substance
driven night-time economy – a place of direct and
undiluted experience. The Brink was the UK’s first dry
bar and a social enterprise dedicated to helping those in
treatment while operating as a cultural and community
hub. Although it sadly closed in 2020, Lee Butler has “a
driving ambition to create a proper dry bar in Liverpool”,
reviving the spirit of The Brink and providing a space
for those in recovery and those who simply choose not
to drink. He is also determined to “start a proper sober
night”, building on the success of Freedom to Party:
A Sober Rave held at The Brink in December 2019.
The event recognised the difficulty or impossibility of
socialising in the usual social spaces while in recovery,
while rejecting the notion that sobriety must be quiet,
restrictive and dull. As places of community and
connection, music venues are the ideal spaces for sober
events; allowing people to check in rather than check out,
subverting the expectations of weekend escapism and
exploring the freedom of existing without substances.
Conversations about sobriety are often tainted with
the same atmosphere as the word itself, quiet, downbeat,
respectful; swimming in pain and the memory of
addiction, framed only in restraint and onward struggle.
But the reality of sobriety is expansive. It is not a sacrifice,
a burden nor a last resort. It is a choice – an exercise
in self-trust and the belief that you are capable of
experience and sensation, without a substance to create
it for you. !
Words: El Gray / @Just__El
Illustration: Eve / @inkycapz
32

PROPELLER
AT FUTURE YARD
DOES YOUR
REHEARSAL SPACE
OFFER FULL MENTOR
SUPPORT?
HIGH-QUALITY, PROFESSIONAL
REHEARSAL STUDIOS
PLUS SECURE STORAGE
SEE MORE AT
PROPELLER.FUTUREYARD.ORG
COMING UP IN 2022
PART CHIMP DOUGLAS DARE NIGHT
BEATS BODEGA LYNKS
THE GARDEN JP COOPER KUUNATIC
INDEPENDENT VENUE WEEK
TERTIA MAY
PENELOPE ISLES
IVW CLOSING PARTY
DU BLONDE
SPECIAL GUEST TBA
OPUS KINK
FUTUREYARD.ORG

A S T L
E S
Forcing the Southport singer-songwriter back to his hometown, lockdown gifted time for reflection.
Now he’s back with an arcade’s worth of new material as well as new-found confidence.
The years have not been kind to Southport, it’s
fair to say. Its cracked, salt-crusted frontage
faces away towards the Irish Sea. Stoic but
defeated, it looks almost ashamed of what’s
happened behind its grand, faded façade. There is a sad
magic about the demise and decay of a seaside town
with such a grand and illustrious history, especially in
the cold, quiet months. It has long been a town free of
investment. The cranes of greed have yet to make it up
the coast, and so Southport is left to make the most of
itself by trading on its past.
The seagulls who foolishly remain here on a breezy
but bright October Monday do battle for the scraps of
what’s left of the summer, strutting and certain, almost as
if they, like this provincial seaside town itself, think they
deserve better.
Funland is open. Funland is always open. Tucked
away in a pub garden behind, a singer, tightly wrapped
against the cold, promises a scattering of elderly daytrippers
a Bruno Mars song, like they know who Bruno
Mars is. It’s all a bit Phoenix Nights meets Coral Island.
But this isn’t the product of somebody else’s sense of
humour or the vivid, romanticised seaside of another’s
imagination. Astles grew up here in Southport having left
34
Liverpool at the age of six. “We were sort of the wools of
the family.” From boy to man to musician and back again,
Astles has always called Southport home.
Nobody else is on this pleasure walk. It’s just me,
those cocky bastard gulls and the ghosted memories
of my youthful adventures. The colourful cast of giant
fibreglass swan-shaped pedalos here gathered look
inward with indifference, tightly chained nose to nose in
protection against the oncoming winter and attacks from
bored, guffawing, balloon-wielding teenagers with little
else to do for fun on dark nights.
We make whatever fun we can, after all, and
growing up in a town such as this offers precious few
opportunities for youth to flourish, the assumption
perhaps predictably being that they’ll grow up and move
away soon enough. And they do. Astles did. And as with
many artists, lockdown brought him home to these sand
dunes, these charity shops and candy floss stalls.
And there he is, silhouetted alone on the bridge
crossing the boatless boating lake, arms raised to the
salty skies for the camera as though in triumph. Like he’s
gone all Rambo on us. Not exactly the sort of pose we’ve
come to expect from what was once, at least, a most
personal and introspective songwriter and performer.
Astles’ early shows saw him spotlighted alone on
the stage, a very singular, almost timid but charming
presence. The Astles we see today seems different, more
confident and settled in his own songwriting skin.
Hunched over coffee in a confused looking building
at the end of the pier, we talk of his songs, the writing
process and the unwitting effect he found in returning
home to Southport and the splendid isolation of
lockdown.
“There was that moment of stop. For me that was
very therapeutic and helpful towards my songwriting. It
felt like it advanced it. I could breathe and I could think
about things that had been bothering me and consult
them in songs. I started writing a lot more about things
I had written about before. My relationships with my
parents and my brother, and with my uncle.”
Astles never knew his uncle Joseph, but that man’s
legacy and influence on him is strong and lasting. Growing
up in an all-boys school in Birkdale where “you were either
into footy or you were a nerd”, he was neither. Or perhaps
both. In terms of finding his musical tribe at school, “There
was the metal heads and the jazz band and that’s it.”
Clearly, Astles ticks neither box, and so he embarked on his
road of musical discovery very much alone.

There was no group of friends with similar interests,
no tribe for him to find, and nobody prepared to let their
guard down and admit the same desire to release their
thoughts through music and song. Nobody to gaze
in awe with at the unaffordable, out of reach guitars
in music shop windows on a
Saturday afternoon.
“It just felt like it was my
thing, really. Even in the family,
nobody was much into music. It
was isolating, but in a nice way,
really. Growing up in Southport,
people don’t really have their own
thing, so to do it that way was
good. You get there at your own
pace, in a way. Like, my favourite
Liverpool songwriters, people
like Mick Head and Bill Ryder-
Jones, if I’d have had someone
telling me about them early, they
wouldn’t have the same effect on me as they did when I
discovered them for myself.”
Inspiration eventually did make its way to him,
courtesy of his uncle Joey’s old record collection. From his
mixtapes and musty, treasured copies of the NME. From
precious gig tickets and reviews he’d written. A treasure
trove of memories.
“That was kind of the only thing I had, from beyond
the grave…there was this one mixtape called ‘Soundtrack
For The 21 Bus Home’ and it’s just amazing. Through that
“You do it to learn
about yourself.
That’s what it is
with songs for me”
I discovered the Bunnymen, Radiohead… he’d put these
mad interludes in, Kerouac reading poetry or a lesson
in how to say ice cream in French. But it still felt like I’d
discovered it myself, because he wasn’t there saying, ‘Get
on this, get on this’. I was looking through all this stuff
one day and found a record with
a banana on the front and Andy
Warhol written on it. I put it on,
and it changed my life. I probably
had terrible music taste until I
was 16.”
Working, too, with someone
he admires so very much in Bill
Ryder-Jones, is an undeniable
thrill, but for Astles and
songwriting, it’s the connection
which is worth just as much.
Where he may have found his
own music “a bit wet or whatever,
not cool” – such is the insecurity
of every writer – Bill begged to differ. “The things I was
insecure about, that was the stuff that Bill really liked.”
“I’ve loved Bill’s music for ages and all of the band
has as well. It’s things like, when I’m doing my vocal and
thinking Bill’s listening, and he says, ‘Sounds amazing, I
love that’. Well, if he says it sounds good, then I believe
that. He’s so good as a producer. It’s people like Bill and
Sophie Ellis, who we recorded with in London. It’s those
people who you actually respect as musicians. When
they’re telling you they like what you’re doing, it helps
FEATURE
your confidence indefinably. It’s sort of worth more than
how many streams you’ve had. It’s them connections.”
So, while early releases and appearances by Astles
were always a strictly solo affair and he still mainly writes
alone, he now lives with his band in true Monkees fashion,
the house a rehearsal space, a recording studio and a
micro-community where Astles finds himself at home.
And that’s the point. Today, Astles feels at home. With his
band, on his own, in his writing and in his music, he’s at
home with himself and confident in what’s to come.
“You do it to learn about yourself. That’s what it is
with songs for me. I don’t really reflect on things, I can’t
really, but then I’ll write a song and then recognise that
that’s how I’m feeling, because that’s how it’s come out
and how the words have put themselves together. That’s
how I use songs. I’m more honest in my songs than I am
in normal life.”
Next year will see more than its fair share of the fruits
of the songwriter’s labours at Ryder-Jones’ Yawn studios
and more besides. A full-band December headline show
at Ullet Road Unitarian Church and future releases will
testify to an Astles that is settled, happy and confident.
Much like the seagulls in his hometown, except he
doesn’t go around stealing people’s lunch. !
Words: Paul Fitzgerald / @nothingvillemusic
Photography: Keith Ainsworth / arkimages.co.uk
Astles play at the Ullet Road Unitarian Church on 11 th
December.
35

GEN AND THE
DEGENERATES
Once outsiders to Liverpool’s patchwork music scene, Gen and the Degenerates are proud
dyed-in-the-wool heirs to the city’s DNA. Unplugging from their operatic performances, the
genre-eschewing troupe sit down with Gary Lambert ahead of a hometown headliner.
Meeting GEN AND THE DEGENERATES in
their rehearsal room, the first thing that hits
is the collective energy radiating from the
band. As tight off stage as they are on, the
band each bristle with excitement at being in each other’s
company. Intense eye contact flits between them, and
laughter bursts out at every moment. It isn’t even the first
time the band have seen each other in a long time – far
from it, in fact.
It seems to me that some bands have gone on hold
during the enforced lay-off over the last eighteen months,
while others have used the time to push themselves on by
working on their craft. Gen and the Degenerates definitely
fall under the second category, with a wild performance
at FestEvol earlier this year being an obvious statement of
intent. “It was our first proper show back, on a big stage,
and the chance to thank Revo for all the support he has
given us.” “We’ve put two singles out with another to
come,” Evan continues, “and I don’t think there’s a part of
the country we haven’t been to playing shows.”
“After all that time off, it felt like we made up for
36
it almost immediately,” adds Jay. Evan continues “we
obviously couldn’t do anything about the time off, but
we’ve come back with a record deal and live agency (both
with Marshall) and songs to put out, so we feel like we
used that time well.”
Gen and the Degenerates are a band who exist
to perform in front of audiences; it is their oxygen. We
quickly move on to discussing their show at Burn It Down,
an alternative music festival in Torquay. The alternative
scene is where the Degenerates, but not Gen, spent their
formative years watching and being nurtured as musicians
and performers. “That scene is where our on-stage ethic
comes from,” Sean tells me. “We might not be making the
same type of music, but in terms of energy and ideology of
performance, we are there.”
For Gen, those festival shows are essential to
introducing their sound to new listeners, regardless
of who they primarily turn up to see. “I think there’s
something for most crowds in our set. We’ve got the pop
sensibilities to our tracks which make them listenable,
danceable and fun. Plus, we don’t take ourselves too
seriously, so we get on well with crowds up for a good
time. The main thing for me is that the live shows are fun
and that everybody has a good time. It’s important to
us that our lyrics create a conversation, but it is equally
important that our fans feel included in that conversation.”
Gen and the Degenerates are not a band who sit
comfortably in one particular genre or scene. As is
the usual case for large bands with larger-than-life
members, there is no obvious blueprint to follow, as
everybody’s influences get mixed together. In contrast
to the Degenerates’ teenage love of rock and metal,
Gen’s influences come from further afield. “I’m always
hammering blues scales in my vocal melodies. My
songwriting sensibilities come from pop and country,
genres that allow for more biographical and storytelling
aspects. Even if I stray from my direct experiences, I’ll still
be working within a concept or a metaphor created by my
own experience.”
Having entered the Liverpool music scene from the
outside, I can’t help but wonder what those experiences
may look like. “Is this where you get to call us bad

wools?” Gen snaps. Despite none of them being born in
Liverpool – with most living outside the city – Gen and the
Degenerates consider themselves to be a band grown
in, and representing, the Liverpool music scene. Yet it
wasn’t easy for them. As out-of-town students studying
English Language at the city’s
universities, they didn’t know
how to go about getting
shows. So, they decided
to put on their own shows
instead, with Gen acting as
the promoter and introducer.
“It was actually a great
way to get started,” she
begins. “We aren’t music
scene people who have
been in loads of bands and
know loads of the necessary
people – we didn’t fucking
know anybody. It can be
really difficult to get into it,
especially if you’re not a Scouser. It was also imperative
that we had a house party after the show every month.
That would be my advice to all new bands. Throw a house
party after your gig, invite everybody performing to come
along, stay up until the early hours with people you’ve
only just met.” With their gang mentality, lyrics about
living their lives proudly and their infinite love of partying,
“It’s important to us
that our lyrics create a
conversation, but it is
equally important that
our fans feel included
in that conversation”
Gen and the Degenerates are a prime example of it’s not
where you’re from, it’s where you’re at, and they are, I
promise, not bad wools.
With their biggest Liverpool show to date on the
horizon, the band understand that for things to grow
as they intend, they need to
give people a reason to buy
tickets and turn up. “We are
a live band,” Evan says. “It
doesn’t matter if we’re playing
a support set for Zuzu or in
between proper metal bands
like at Burn It Down – we
are going to play like we
play. We won’t fake it and
try to start circle pits at the
metal shows, and then have
phones in the air moments at
indie shows. We just do our
thing.” Jay hammers the point
home. “From my perspective,
I just want to get up there and have fun. Fortunately, my
favourite way of having fun is doing what we do, getting
up on stage and playing with loads of energy and making
the most of it with my gang and the people watching us”.
According to Gen, “We’re going to have some people
come along too to do extra shit that we can’t afford to do
when we’re on the road.”
Before the madcap fun arrives at Jimmy’s, the band
have a new single ready to unleash to the world. Wild
Thing is a roaring, uplifting explanation as to why Gen
Degenerate is the person she is, and nobody is going to
change that. “We recorded it with Kurran Kurbal (Munkey
Junkey), a lovely human and the sixth Degenerate,” Evan
explains. “We’ve worked with him for ages, and he is the
best at getting the most out of us. He meets the needs
of the label in terms of getting what they want out of the
band, but enables us to do what we want to do.”
As for the song itself, Gen confesses, “I did nick the
name from The Troggs, but in an earnest and wholesome
way, not straight up plagiarism. When I was a baby, Wild
Thing was what my mum used to sing to me as my lullaby,
so I’ve taken inspiration from that to say, ‘This is how I
am, this is how I’ve always been, and there’s nothing I’m
going to do about it’. I have, at times, been a rebellious and
dangerous person,” she concludes. You’ve been warned. !
Words: Gary Lambert / @glamgigpics
Photography: Lucy McLachlan / @lucy_alexandra
Wild Thing is available on the 3 rd December via Marshall
Records. Gen and the Degenerates play Jimmy’s on
18 th December.
@gensdegenerates
FEATURE
37

AS A BLACK WOMAN
IT WAS SOMETIMES
DIFFICULT TO PROCESS
AND COMPREHEND
THE PAIN IN OUR
SHARED HISTORY.
BLACK HISTORY IS
EVERYONE’S HISTORY
AND IT’S BEEN
HIDDEN OR IGNORED
FOR CENTURIES.
38

FEATURE
39

40

STATUES
REDRESSED
Liverpool’s public spaces abound with figures
cast in bronze. Indeed, the city itself boasts more
public sculptures than any other in the United
Kingdom outside of Westminster. Journey in
by train and you’re met with immortalised copies of Ken
Dodd and Bessie Braddock. Come in by sea, and your
passage into the city is carefully framed by a tribute to
four of its most exported sons. When Liverpool’s public
spaces are bereft of human activity, its network of statues
serve as reminders that this most Victorian of public
rituals continues to dominate ideas about our public
spaces and how they are used.
And yet, many of us pass our bronze neighbours
without much more than a quick glance. Towering
above our commutes to work and strolls in the park, our
indifference to these pedestalled giants had become
as assured as the thick coat of oxidised green that now
covers their former grandeur.
That was until June 2020, when the statue of slave
trader Edward Colston was torn down and rolled into
the Bristol harbour in the wake of the Black Lives Matter
movement following the murder of George Floyd.
Since then, our statues have become much more
noticeable. Not only that; they’ve become more
perceptible to public considerations about who we
choose to memorialise, who we choose to celebrate, and
who gets to make those types of decisions.
A bellwether of what we were about to witness in
many of our public squares – a defaced Churchill plinth
and the voluntary removal of a statue commemorating
Scouts founder Robert Baden-Powell – Edward Colston
cuts deep into the modern statues debate.
In the days following Colston’s removal, Liverpool
was one of the first cities in the UK to confront both its
statues and its relationship to the transatlantic slave trade
from which it built its enormous wealth. Conversations
around (in)famous street names, architecture and the
school curriculum were quickly and powerfully funneled
into wider questions about how our city’s policymakers
plan on directing the energy for change into considered
action.
Over the Summer, many of Liverpool’s statues were
reimagined as part of a project between Sky Arts and
Culture Liverpool, the council’s cultural engagement arm.
Decorating many of the city’s most famous statues with
fabric and other artwork, Statues Redressed challenged,
celebrated and reframed public discourse around the
modern function of statues and the role, if any, that public
memorials should play.
Karen Arthur, one of the artists invited to take part in
Statues Redressed, was tasked with reimagining Derby
Square’s neo-Baroque monument to Queen Victoria. “I
love the idea of reimagining statues and getting people to
think more deeply about the monuments they walk past,”
she tells us. “I was interested in drawing the connection
between her and the abolitionist movement that was
happening at the beginning of her reign.”
A main source of inspiration for Karen’s artwork came
from an unusual relationship Queen Victoria had with a
woman born into slavery. “During my research I learned
about a Black woman named Martha Ricks who was born
into slavery but moved freely to Liberia,” Karen continues.
“She was an accomplished quilter and gifted Queen
Victoria with a satin quilt that she had made herself.”
Featuring Ankara prints in a nod to the direct link
between the continent of Africa and the exchange of
human labour that built Liverpool’s wealth, Karen’s
fabric similarly became a tangible memorial to her Black
ancestors. “As a Black woman it was sometimes difficult
to process and comprehend the pain in our shared
history. Black History is everyone’s history and it’s been
hidden or ignored for centuries.” !
Statues Redressed is available to watch on Sky TV
on demand and on the NOW streaming service.
FEATURE
41

SPOTLIGHT
“The last year
has been a crazy
dichotomy. It was
definitely a struggle
over lockdown but
I’m so happy we
persevered and
made new music”
ALRIGHT (OKAY)
Love at first sound: Alright (okay) are hard to pin down, and
even harder to ignore.
ALRIGHT (OKAY) have arrived on the music scene at
full throttle with their own unique brand of wobbly guitar
pop. Sitting down in their practice studio, the four friends
– who like to “unintentionally cause a bit of carnage” –
reveal they’ve spent the last three years “jamming and
jiving” in the hopes of bringing that little bit of extra joy to
their fans.
Alex, Jonah, James and Will are all well versed in
the ways of Liverpool. Having all met at university, the
boys have spent the past few years growing and thriving
alongside Liverpool’s vibrant music scene. Forming at the
back end of 2018 after Alex and Will met on a night out,
the band instantly hit it off, with James describing the
relationship between the four as “love at first sound”.
Picking their brains on the unusual name of the band,
Jonah divulges that “Clown Funeral” and “Casual Scythe”
were both plausible contenders. Alex chimes in to clarify:
“I remember seeing a post online somewhere showing
signs homeless people would use when travelling to
different places, usually marking where they had food
or shelter, or what the general area was like. There was
a sign with an X and underneath it read ‘alright (okay)’,
which I quite liked the wording of. I guess it was to tell
people the area wasn’t that bad to be in. Once we looked
at what names we had come up with, that one spoke to
us the most.”
If the name has a clear lineage, then the band’s sound
is much more difficult to pin down. This, of course, isn’t
necessarily a bad thing; their unique ability to flit between
genres sets them apart from the sea of indie bands
currently rising through the ranks. I’m eager to hear their
own take. “Like if Frank Zappa had a chance to meet
System of a Down to discuss the global financial crisis
of 2008,” philosophises Jonah. “Or, if you want a serious
answer, fun and fast-paced post-punk riffs over a wall of
crushing drums.”
Though eager to bring their Zappa-Tankian tonic to
the world, much like the rest of society the boys found
their plans halted with you-know-what. Noting that the
pandemic made them appreciate the little things in life,
Jonah jests with a profound decision that “pubs are the
backbone of society”.
But despite the carnage ensuing around them,
lockdown did help the band find a new direction for
their music. Writing a lot of new tracks acoustically, the
band found re-entering the studio to be a breath of fresh
air. Having performed their first ‘gig’ as an Instagram
livestream, the group found themselves making up for
lost time once they could finally let their debut single,
Coffee, out into the world. “The last year has been a crazy
dichotomy,” James reflects. “From having to practice
acoustic sets at Alex’s house to being able to play in
front of crowds for the first time is unbelievable. It was
definitely a struggle over lockdown, but I’m so happy we
persevered and made new music.”
Coffee bookmarks a defiant page in the growing
anthology of Alright (okay), having originally been penned
when Alex was 17, and recorded in Vulcan Studios, the
post-punk cut offers a high-energy take on break-up
anthems. “It’s about that strange limbo period you can
sometimes find yourself in when you know you’re done,
but they’re still occupying your mind or they’re trying
to stay close with you. The tune was quite a bit slower
to start, but once I brought it to the band it became its
own beast.” Eyes fixed firmly on the next chapter, Jonah
divulges they’re currently adding finishing touches to
their next single, After Paris, with a debut EP on the
horizon.
Despite having only played to a virtual crowd, the
quartet stumbled into selling out a show at Liverpool’s
Jacaranda. Described as “absolute carnage” by Alex (not
least owing to him breaking his guitar string three songs
in), the band navigated their way through a bustling,
sweaty mosh to deliver their lockdown-penned tracks
to a live crowd for the first time. With James noting
that the band had been working their way towards this
moment for their entire career, it was surely a night not
to be missed. “To see all the faces we’ve been unable to
see for 18 months smiling and having a nice time with
one another was truly a special moment.” Jonah cheekily
adds: “Did get a bit sweaty. You’ll have to check our
Instagram to see topless Will and James.”
Discussing the amazing talent they find themselves
surrounded by in the 21 st -century indie scene, the band
tip their hats to DEAD ANIMALS and MONDO TRASHO,
who coincidentally will be supporting the boys at their
headline show at Jimmy’s in February. For now, the band
continue to be humbled by their craft. I ask Jonah what it
is about performing live that he just can’t get anywhere
else: “Tinnitus.” !
Words: Alannah Williams / @swimdeeeplana
Photography: Ollie Dignan / @mm_dignan
Alright (okay) play the Bido Lito! Social on 27th January.
@alrightokayband
42

P3LZ
Eyes set firmly on the stars, the journey has only
just begun for Toxteth’s wise wunderkind.
As I wait for my guest, I’m smug with pride at picking
the perfect location. A multi-use building on Windsor
Street with its arms wide open, Toxteth TV is a space
that magnetises the urban dweller with the charm of its
garden space and informal cafe. Soon after losing myself
in its throwback decadence – boasting an old school
games arcade and a VHS rental store – I find myself
face-to-face with P3LZ. Armed with a soft smile, she
swings her braided hair out of her face – the pieces of
gold aluminium that coil her locks clinking together ever
so quietly.
Do not be fooled. Despite being only 17, the force
in front of me has caught the attention of several
high-profile brands and platforms, from Nike to LFC,
off the back of various freestyle videos that have gone
viral online. I admit to her that I can’t fathom what an
experience that must be. “At first, working with big
brands was daunting because they’re high up and they’re
known,” she explains. “So, getting associated with them
is not a normal thing. It was exciting and as I did it more
often, I got used to it. Then I was able to understand how
they work, learn from them and build connections.”
Since the release of her first official track, Broken
Homes, she has grown and I can’t help but wonder if she
was pleased with the reaction to it. It could have been
better, she tells me. “It was my first track, but I think
things will pick up after I’ve done some more stuff. It was
exciting and I’ve done something new. I think I expected
what I got, but obviously I’m hoping for better in the
future.”
From my experience in the Liverpool urban music
scene, there’s an assumption that it’s standard for a
teenager to be heavily influenced by their surroundings
and create music that revolves around a hedonistic
existence of drinking, partying and experimenting with
various substances. However, P3Lz’s music is mindful,
defined by the ability to focus the lyrics on the current
moment and calmly present her thoughts through
calculated lyricism. In regard to her process of writing, the
technique itself is a natural reflection
of her recent venture into the rap
scene. “I kind of go on YouTube to
get beats. At the start that’s all I did
because I didn’t know where else to
get them.”
But it’s also the opportunities to
grow that have aided her to develop
a relationship with music that sees
it as just one potential career. “I
enjoy music, it’s my passion and
I am serious about it, but I’m still
figuring out if it’s what I want to put
100 per cent into. At the moment I
have other things I want to do. I’m
really into my academics and going
to university. I don’t want to be half-hearted if I was to do
music; I want to be able to put everything in – my whole
time and effort. If you’ve got other options, then you
shouldn’t just cut them out because that would be silly.”
Stunned by her maturity, I feel that P3Lz is wise
beyond her years, and there’s a wholesome energy to
her attitude. After all, she does have her whole life ahead
of her, and it’s one that will no doubt be shaped by an
adolescence spent growing up in Toxteth. Her recent
“I want to give
back as well if I
can, because I
feel like this place
needs something
big to boost it”
appearance in Almost Liverpool 8 – a documentary
vignette of L8 and a celebration of its diverse community
– is an embryonic biography of those experiences, bottled
up and unleashed with sharp-edged spoken word.
“I think growing up in Toxteth has had an impact
on my music because it’s given me the drive and the
motivation to be able to aim and strive for things that
are better than here. Although I love
living here it’s like a really deprived
area so, obviously, I’m not trying to
stay here forever. I want to give back
as well if I can, because I feel like this
place has got really low morale and
it needs something big to boost it
so that people don’t run away from
here and want to live here and buy
houses here.”
Her motivations are pure and it’s
a case of when, not if, she goes on to
take the rest of the country by storm.
I’m in such anticipation of her future
and I wonder what’s on the cards.
“There’s something mad coming at
the start of 2022. It’s called Remedy and it’s going to be
a sick drill track.” I give her a smile so big that I have to
call it a beam. There’s nothing I can do but take her word
for it. !
Words: Iona Fazer / @ionafazer97
Photography: Anthony Wilde / @evolving_necessary
Remedy is available soon.
SPOTLIGHT 43

SPOTLIGHT
TILLY LOUISE
The hometown heroine’s
bubblegum pop shimmers in
an affirmation of optimism.
Calypso is a romantic pop ballad with an interesting
title – tell us more!
I wrote Calypso in 2018 as a cutesy little dance song,
based loosely around a Simpsons episode when Marge
and Homer had their prom, and Homer was sad about
Marge going to it and dancing with someone else. I
wanted to make it a little happier and something the
audience could get involved with. Whether that’s singing
or clapping, just to get everyone dancing is the key to
this song really!
Who were your inspirations when you were growing
up?
I had plenty – Paramore, Alanis Morissette, Haim,
Fleetwood Mac. Whatever my cousins were into, really,
they’re the coolest people I know so I just followed suit.
As I’ve gotten older my taste has obviously changed but
those bands have stuck around.
What’s your favourite album in your collection?
At the minute my favourite album in my vinyl collection
has to be Orla Gartland’s Woman On The Internet. I think
Orla’s writing has always been amazing, but this album
is something special – it’s so authentically her.
Who would you like to collaborate with?
I think a collaboration with Will Joseph Cook would be
cool. I feel like our music is very similar and our voices
could blend quite nicely. I’d love to collaborate with
Paramore or Zuzu, too.
What’s a favourite venue you’ve performed in?
Up to now my favourite venue must be the Arts Club.
I also loved playing Future Yard, too. It’s such a special
place to me as I loved the 2019 festival there and, also,
how often do you get to play a boss gig in Birkenhead?
Tilly Louise supports Zuzu at the O2 Academy
on 5th Demember.
Tilly Louise (Adele Robinson)
ANDREW NEAL
Andrew Neal (John Johnson)
Country-inflected Merseybeat
meets heel-stomping Americana
in a sway of raw storytelling.
Describe your music to us.
Each song has a different sound and feeling. I write all of
my songs on acoustic guitar, this gives the backbone of
rhythm and melody to the song, allowing me to compose
other instrumentation around the rhythm guitar. I pretty
much use this method of writing for all of my songs so
although they are different in sound and feeling, I think
you can hear my style clearly in each song.
Who were your inspirations when you were growing up?
I had a brilliant mixture of music growing up; from Soul
and Motown to Folk and Country and, of course, good
old Rock and Roll.
Paint The Dark, is a toe-tapping, brisk infusion of
country and blues – is there a specific emotion or
memory that inspired the song?
After experiencing some difficult times and low points
when I was feeling lost, I came through on the other side
in a much better place and state of mind. This gave me
the inspiration to write Paint the Dark. As much as it
sounds like a cliché, I wanted to write a song to articulate
how there is always light at the end of the tunnel.
What’s your favourite album in your collection?
It’s difficult but I would have to say Bob Marley’s Survival.
You probably wouldn’t think I would choose that listening
to my songs but it’s a perfect album from start to finish.
It has everything, from the production in terms of
arrangements and composition, the vocals and meaning
in the lyrics with over all brilliant musicianship.
What’s a favourite venue you’ve performed in?
I did two tours supporting The View in my previous band
The Stamp. We played in a lot of amazing and wellknown
venues. Two stand out gigs were in Amsterdam
and Paris. Paris was made all the more special as Liam
Gallagher came down to watch us play.
Who’ve you seen live recently?
Like all of us, I was missing live music during lockdown.
Although I haven’t been able to get to many live gigs
since things started to open up, I was thrilled to support
The Sonder at EBGBS a couple of months ago. I caught
their performance after I had finished my set and thought
they did a great job - I love the variety of musical talent
coming through on the Liverpool music scene at the
moment.
I Won’t Be Living Here Anymore is available soon.
44

PREVIEWS
VESSEL
Music missionaries Manchester
Collective stop by Future Yard as
part of their Heavy Metal tour on
11th December. A new commission
from SEBASTIAN GAINSBOROUGH,
aka Vessel, takes pride of place
in the programme. Stuart O’Hara
speaks to the composer about the
story of his new piece, the meaning
of ‘classical’ and collaboration.
Perhaps SEBASTIAN GAINSBOROUGH, aka
Vessel, should have featured in these pages a
long time ago. But maybe it was worth waiting
for his collaboration with contemporary classical
group Manchester Collective. This one’s different; it’s
a commissioned work for orchestral instruments and
electronics, and it’s going on tour in December. With
umpteen audiovisual collaborations under his belt
(Immix Ensemble, Pedro Maia, Anouk de Clercq) and
2018’s album Queen of Golden Dogs established as
a recent classic, the promise of new material from Mr
Gainsborough is exciting precisely because the only
certainty is that you won’t be able to guess what
it’ll sound like. Never safe, never predictable, always
cathartic.
His commission for Manchester Collective, Squint,
will speak to audiences. It’s a sequence of sounds that
contains multitudes. Water bubbles past a medieval
French chanson, hammered dulcimers nestle alongside
beeps and beats. As it builds, ever more insistently,
it’s like looking up at the clear night sky out in the
countryside – the longer you look, the more is revealed.
The longer you listen, the more you hear.
Do you find your music takes on a different life when
you go out and perform it live?
I’m curious too. This will be the first time I’ve made music
that I will have no part in performing live. I was talking to
[co-founder and chief executive of Manchester Collective]
Adam Szabo, and I was just assuming that I would be on
stage mucking about as well. He had to gently remind
me that that isn’t traditionally how a commission works,
which was actually quite a shock. Performing live is
such a crucial part of it all, for me. It’s also my space for
what can be an ecstatic communion. I honestly feel quite
uncomfortable about not being able to take part in that,
but who knows? Perhaps it will be surprisingly delicious.
You’ve worked with [Manchester Collective violinist
and co-founder] Rakhi Singh before, on Passion. That’s
kind of classical in its form and instrumentation – three
movements, strings, voice and electronics. Apparently,
it was partly inspired by the novels of Clarice Lispector.
Do you often draw inspiration from non-musical
places?
Yes, I do. I pour ideas into my brain, usually via books, and
turn on the cement mixer. Afterwards I can’t remember
anything of what I’ve read. For this piece, I was
completely obsessed with female Christian mystics of the
Middle Ages, so I’ve done a lot of reading and research
around that.
The main text in Squint, which is spoken word and
runs throughout, is taken from
another collaboration I took part
in. This piece is called One and is a
video work written and conceived
of by the artist and filmmaker
Anouk De Clercq. The singer and
performer Helga Davis speaks
the words. We’ve now made
three pieces together and it’s hard
to overstate how precious this
collaboration is to me. They’re
quite tricky to summarise neatly,
but if anyone would like to find
out more, searching the title with
Anouk’s name will bring up all the
information.
What’s the French song at the centre of Squint?
Je Suis Trop Jeunette. There’s a French band called
Malicorne who did a rendition of it, which I love and
have partly followed here. This tune is apparently pretty
old (some sources date it to 1480, but who knows).
Although this is totally unverified, I’ve concocted the idea
that it shares some DNA with the fin’amor [courtly love]
movement of around the 12th century, and subsequently
also the Beguines, a mystical and semi-heretical Christian
movement who were, at least in part, known for their
eroticised, ambiguously gendered relationship with
God. It’s just a folky love song, really, but if you imagine
that the focus of the singer’s attentions is mystical
transcendence rather than some spotty adolescent, then
it takes on quite a different character, and a useful one for
me in the context of this piece.
Let’s say it is from 1480. Which elements of 21 st -
century music might have a chance of surviving 500
years from now?
I’m going to say 2000s RnB and pop stuff. Some of that
music is so mind-blowing. Talk Talk and Scott Walker.
George Michael and Björk. As soon as you start writing
names so many spring up that humans couldn’t possibly
stop finding relevant and amazing.
What is ‘classical music’ to you, right now?
I’m not sure if I have any unique insights into the nature
“I pour ideas
into my brain,
usually via books,
and turn on the
cement mixer”
of classical music, I don’t know much about it. I’m often
brutally pragmatic when it comes to music, generally. I
don’t listen to a huge amount of it, and when I do, I tend
to become obsessively fixated on whatever it is, primarily
because I want to learn from it. I’ve
listened to Bartók’s string quartets,
or Laughing Stock by Talk Talk
countless times, for example, and
obviously I love that music beyond
words, but it’s also about finding
teachers.
That said, I do think that we are
starting to see more people who
traditionally would have been
excluded or alienated from classical
music start to be platformed more
and, surprise surprise, a lot of that
work is – to me, at least – much
more interesting, much more exciting than dusting off yet
another performance or record of a piece from 200 years
ago which has already had more than enough exposure.
I’m pretty allergic to the overtones of public relations that
this term has acquired, but ‘disruption’ is crucial. Any
form of art which is actively resistant to change, as you
could argue classical music frequently has been, is going
to rot. So, bring on the vultures, I guess.
Heavy Metal is being billed as a ‘loud and intense
programme’. Press release jargon aside, are you
naturally a loud and intense artist?
I love loud music; I think it can be really useful sometimes.
I’m much more interested in quiet music at the moment,
but I’m sure that will change again. I don’t usually think of
myself as anything particular, to be honest. I find it’s quite
an odd idea, really, to take a pleasure in categorising
oneself. I feel like a lot of the time we – artists? Humans?
– look to amplify any possibility that we might be just
a little bit different to everyone else, a little outside of
categories. Which is often a bit delusional, I guess, but
useful, nonetheless.
Words: Stuart Miles O’Hara / @ohasm1
Heavy Metal from Manchester Collective is at Future Yard
on Saturday 11th December.
Read this interview in full on bidolito.co.uk
PREVIEWS 45

PREVIEWS
“Music contains all
these multitudes.
It’s always been
a multi-sensory
experience for me”
GIG
LONELADY
15/01/22 – Harvest Sun @ 24 Kitchen Street
Under the pseudonym of LONELADY, Julie Campbell’s creativity pours into an audio-visual
amalgam of art pop, post-punk and electronic grooves. Speaking to the self-described “hybrid
artist” from the heights of her brutalist tower block in the heart of Manchester over Zoom, Julie
discusses what fuelled her innovation following the release of her third record, Former Things.
LONELADY has steadily acquired a coterie of
famous fans including New Order and Brian
Eno; having been invited to support the former
on three shows (an experience she describes
as “mind-boggling”), she unexpectedly received a synth
from the latter. She recalls the anecdote of him walking
into her studio space and complaining about having too
many synths. After jokingly offering to take one, days
later, “a huge package arrived and it was a big heavy
synth wrapped in foam. It’s a Korg Triton so it’s got a very
crisp sound to it. It’s the main piano riff that features on
the song Time Time Time”.
She describes her 2010 debut, Nerve Up as
“economical post-punk.” For her 2015 follow-up,
Hinterland, she added embellishments of funk, but
plucked lyrical inspiration from the industrial Mancunian
spaces of her surroundings. “I’d just go on long walks
around the edge of the city. I’m drawn to leftover unloved
spaces. I also love to walk back to Audenshaw where I’m
from. I think where you’re from has a real kind of pull, like
ley lines.” Former Things is LoneLady’s most personal
record to date, lyrically drawing on Campbell’s childhood.
“Musically it’s a bit softer and sadder, more vulnerable
sounding. I was laying it bare a bit more than previous
albums.”
Julie has remained busy in the six intervening
years since her previous release. For part of this time,
she took up a residency at London’s revered Somerset
House, recording the larger part of Former Things at
an erstwhile rifle range. “I got all this new electronic
hardware. It was a real opportunity to play with my
new toys, test them out, turn the volume up loud. […] I’d
start by programming beats on the sequencer. I just love
building that scaffolding of beats, playing around with
different textures of drum machines and then bringing in
a bassline with an analogue synth.”
Despite the change of scenery from her usual urban
cityscape, Julie explains “the subject matter is inside. It
comes with me”. Her hometown remains resonant in her
lyricism: “I had this strong image in my mind of me sitting
on my bed as a teenager watching VHS tapes and the
flicker from the screen. There was an orange streetlight
outside, and I was dreaming about the future and what I
was going to be when I grew up.” Things took an unusual
turn when Julie completed the album in the rural greenery
of Macclesfield, staying at a friend’s farmhouse to add the
finishing touches.
True to her moniker, Julie rarely works with other
musicians. As a multi-instrumentalist, she laughs “when
I’m not on tour my life resembles lockdown”. When the
world seemed to be on hold, she remained optimistic,
relishing the opportunity to experiment and take the time
to hone her craft. “I certainly am a perfectionist,” she
laughs.
A former fine art student with a keen interest in
psychogeography, Julie eloquently explains the audiovisual
element of her artistic vision. “Music contains
all these multitudes. It’s always been a multi-sensory
experience for me.” The album art for Former Things
was designed by Julie herself, an image inspired by
the medieval painting style she wrote a dissertation
on at art school, each detail intentional in its intricacy.
She describes the image as “a modern-day Joan of Arc
wandering through the industrial streets of my past. All
very romantic”, she laughs. “I designed the banner; had it
hand embroidered. Everything has a meaning. The mesh
fence and rough concrete floor continue the theme from
Hinterland of a post-industrial environment.”
Over the past decade, Julie has continued to create
visual art, namely with her Scrub Transmissions project,
wherein she sporadically installs an MP3 device into the
fabric of a structure. “What’s beautiful about them is that
they’re in very personal locations, and also unglamorous
locations, off the beaten track.” For Julie, it’s a way
of “installing a self into the fabric of the city. There’s
something really haunting about the idea of my voice
looping around in a wall”. However, she’s not opposed
to the idea of expanding the project into other cities or
countries.
She will embark on the second leg of her Former
Things tour in early 2022, including a headline show
at Liverpool’s 24 Kitchen Street on 15 th January. At the
beginning of her career, she performed alone, weaving
guitar melodies over a pounding drum machine.
Gradually, she’s built up a live band of friends, and now
plays with “a lean and mean three-piece”. The idea of
recruiting session musicians anonymously does not
appeal to her because she “would find that quite soul
destroying”. For the current live iteration of LoneLady,
Julie has put her guitar to one side, an experience which
allows her to “inhabit a song emotionally”.
She’s already thinking about album number four but
remains elusive: “I think now it’s just a case of alternating
between playing live and having little chunks of writing
time.” In the decade since she made her debut as
LoneLady, Julie remarks on how much she’s learned from
technical skills to the complexity of instrumentation. She
smiles: “Everything’s a new adventure for me.” !
Words: Sarah Taylor / @tayl0rsarah
Photography: Alex Hurst
46

INDEPENDENT
VENUE WEEK
31/01-06/02 - Various venues
Arriving to destroy the post-Christmas
blues and define the New Year as one filled
with community, creativity and celebration,
Independent Venue Week returns from
Monday 31st January.
present a series of panel discussions on pertinent issues within the city’s music sector,
titled Sustaining Independence and Safe Spaces. Details of the panels are yet to be
announced at the time of writing but are guaranteed to offer a sharp critique and
thoughtful consideration of the hostile environment facing independent venues within
the city, as well as the opportunities for progress.
The Kazimier will also play host to a film screening on Tuesday 1st February,
collaborating with upcoming film makers and producers. The evening will screen
three contemporary and independently curated short films, exploring topics such as
gender acceptance and rave culture unity. The event will also provide an opportunity to
engage with grassroots producers, revealing the inspiration, challenges and realities of
underground cinema.
The IWF Substation will conjure an evening of “chin stroking subculture”, filling
Liverpool’s iconic basement venue with hardcore breaks and unusual dance music.
Expect the experimental and iconoclastic.
The diversity of these events serves to highlight the vital role played by independent
music venues, operating as multi-use spaces for performance, community gathering,
education and release.
This year, 121 venues from 66 different villages, towns and cities have already
signed up to take part, 89 per cent of which are outside of London, proving the diversity
and strength of the grassroots scene. Despite the challenges facing independent venues
locally and nationally, Independent Venue Week is proof that they are valued, respected
and more necessary than ever. EG
The annual event is a celebration of the UK’s independent music venues and
the communities which sustain them. It is a national festival at a local scale,
recognising the vital role that independent venues play in fertilising the wider
music scene through the provision of local support, encouragement and early
career development for artists and those behind the scenes.
A selection of the Merseyside’s finest independent venues will be hosting gigs,
events, discussions and parties in defiance of the challenges they have faced over the
past 18 months and in celebration of the contribution of grassroots music spaces to the
wider sector.
Future Yard excel with a non-stop offering of live music throughout the week. The
week begins with the ascending TERTIA MAY, gracing Birkenhead with her intoxicating
audio concoction of hip hop, jazz, soul and pop. On Tuesday 1st February PENELOPE
ISLES return to the venue after their sold-out socially distanced show last year. The
dreamy pop duo explore the confusions of 20-something life through alt-rock and psych
pop tunes. Throughout the week, DU BLONDE, ONIPA and OPUS KINK will also join the
celebrations.
Meanwhile, the Invisible Wind Factory and Kazimier Stockroom team up to
Onipa
THEATRE
FANTASTICALLY GREAT
WOMEN WHO CHANGED
THE WORLD
08/12-02/01 - Playhouse
Liverpool Playhouse is eschewing the usual yule trappings for an altogether more empowering affair this
Christmas. From the producers of the international phenomenon that is SIX, Fantastically Great Women Who
Changed The World is set to be an equally innovative and uplifting production which carries an important message for
theatre-goers. The story follows school pupil Jade who meets great historic heroines such as Frida Kahlo, Rosa Parks,
Emmeline Pankhurst for a night of pop-infused lessons in humanity’s game-changers. Dramatist Chris Bush, who was
behind the smash hit Richard Hawley-inspired musical Standing At The Sky’s Edge, has collaborated with one-woman
hit factory Miranda Cooper (Girls Aloud, Kylie Minogue) to adapt the famous picture book by suffragette descendant
Kate Pankhurst. Audiences can expect razor-sharp pop songs and a narrative that will inspire and move.
The world premiere of the stage production opened in Southampton in November and only visits Norwich before
taking up residency for four-weeks of shows at the Williamson Square venue. SIX visited the same venue two years
ago for a sell-out run and has won awards across the industry, including two Olivier Awards for Best New Musical and
Outstanding Achievement in Music. ST
PREVIEWS
47

PREVIEWS
Words: Jack Ryder, Richard Lewis, Alannah Williams, Sam Turner, Emma
Varley, Matthew Berks, Lily Blakeney-Edwards, Ryan McNee, Nadia Newman,
El Gray, Stephanie Hernandez.
EXHIBITION
Future Ages Will Wonder
28/10-20/02 - FACT
Larry Achiampong & David Blandy, Dust to Data (2021). Image courtesy the artists.jpeg
History is written by those with the power, and while we work to uncover the
stories of those who were not (and are not) in power, countless voices have
been lost to history. FUTURE AGES WILL WONDER presents an “alternative
museum” of artworks that reimagine our past, present and future by combining
traditional mediums with modern science and technology and asking who
will write our own stories? Future Ages Will Wonder marks the launch of
‘Radical Ancestry’, a year-long exploration into ancestral history and how new
technology can reshape the past and reassess our sense of belonging. EV
GIG
Secret Night Gang
09/12 – District
Collectively known as SECRET NIGHT GANG, Callum Connell and Kemani Anderson bring
their take on jazz, soul and funk to Parr Jazz this December, with Anderson on vocals,
complimented by Connell’s razor-sharp sax instrumentation. Describing their sound as
limitless, the group also knit gospel, RnB and soul jazz into their sound. Their self-titled
album is the warm and reassuring pick-me-up we all surely need to get us through the
winter months. Connell describes it as “not music to think to, but to dance to”. After
immersing themselves into the Manchester jazz scene, the band accumulated bassist
Stu Whitehead and drummer Myke Wilson (Corinne Bailey Rae, 52 nd Street.) The band
now harbours Juneroy on bass, and guitar from Jack Duckham, as well as guest vocal
appearances from Manchester’s own Mali Hayes and Doreen Edwards. The night promises
a welcome retreat from the cold. JR
Secret Night Gang
GIG
The Wonder Pot: I Hate Models
27/12 – 24 Kitchen Street
I Hate Models
I HATE MODELS has sculpted his sound around techno, industrial
and trance, while never conforming solely to one genre. The French
DJ brings emotive dance music to Kitchen Street this December,
an infusion of sounds blended to encapsulate his own feelings,
contrasting light with dark, joy with sorrow. The artist, known to his
mates as Guillaume Labadie, has produced music on labels like Arts
and Perc Trax, the latter of which released his 2019 album L’Âge Des
Metamorphoses. Within a heartbeat, glimmering melodies can crumble
into sheet metal. Expect emotive, nostalgic soundwaves not just made
to dance to, but to be appreciated as a body of art that can stand
strong outside of a club setting (but the disco ball does help). JR
GIG
Bananagun
05/02/22- Future Yard
Aussie groovers BANANAGUN are set to serve up their tropical cocktail of psychedelia,
exotica and Afrobeat to Birkenhead’s Future Yard in February 2022. And we can’t wait
to take a sip. The Melbourne five-piece join us midway through their UK tour, finally able
to take their incredible debut LP on the road. Released in 2020 when the world was
locked down, The True Story of Bananagun was, for many, a joyful tonic that transported
us to sunnier places we couldn’t access. Its seamless blend of Fela Kuti-esque rhythms,
colourful psych melodies and jazz-soaked sonorities made for a dose of pure escapism.
Self-described as “a party unto ourselves”, their live show is set to be a completely
intoxicating affair. Expect bongos, brass, strings and cowbells aplenty. Combined with
their infectiously joyous stage presence, it’s going to be hard to walk out of this one
without a smile on your face. AW
Bananagun
48

EXHIBITION
Collective Matters
Until 12/12 - Open Eye Gallery
Collective Matters explores photography’s role in creating resilience and a closer sense of community after the
isolation engendered by the pandemic. The exhibition runs across three galleries at Open Eye. Gallery One presents
a collaboration between photographer Stephanie Wynne and Wirral Women, considering themes of safety through
3D space as a rejection of the 2D realm we have been forced into over the past year. Gallery Two exhibits work from
recent University of Salford graduates, displaying the future of socially engaged practitioners. The exhibition differs
from others in its embrace of public contributions. It encourages involvement with the work by having roles of paper
and pens for people to express their responses, making every showing different and collaborative. HM
Collective Matters
GIG
Bedouine
04/02 - Leaf
Bedouine
Azniv Korkejian, better known by her stage name BEDOUINE, has garnered impressive
comparisons to eclectic singer-songwriters from Vashti Bunyan to Nick Cave. Her sound,
however, is completely her own. The unique cloud of 60s Laurel Canyon mysticism she
creates is brought down to earth by her sensitive songwriting. Korkejian makes music for
those who enjoy basking in a maudlin mood or need a palliative for unrequited love. Her
new album, Waysides, evokes a rainy day in a sad café, making Leaf on Bold Street the
perfect venue for her to debut her third album in Liverpool. SH
GIG
GIRLI
03/12 - Arts Club
Making waves as the ‘new voice’ of modern pop-punk, GIRLI is set to hit the Arts Club
on the 3rd December, as part of her ongoing UK tour. Her debut album Odd One Out
received critical acclaim across the board for its melding of sounds and bombastic
lyricism, cementing the artist as a name to look out for. Now, after recently coming
out as bisexual, signing to an independent label AllPoints and releasing her latest EP
Damsel In Distress, 2021 marks a new era for GRILI – approaching her upcoming live
dates with a newfound self-assurance that is guaranteed to set the stage alight. LBE
Girli
GIG
Loathe
10/12 - Arts Club
Loathe
Ask for an early Christmas present and you shall duly receive it in the form of
an evening with Liverpool’s superlative metalcore group, LOATHE, at the Arts
Club. Treating followers to 2020’s hard-hitting I Let It In And It Took Everything
in its entirety, the five-piece – nominated for best UK breakthrough band at the
Heavy Music Awards – promise an industrial tonic of emotional rage and gritty
cinematics for their sold-out show. MB
GIG
The Districts
28/01 - Arts Club
Hovering on the cusp of adulthood, all aged 17, the members of Pennsylvanian quartet THE DISTRICTS
were launched to viral success in 2012 with a live HotBox YouTube session. Filled with haunting harmonica,
private prayers transposed into song, and Rob Grote’s raw and raspy vocals, the session encapsulated
the band’s approach to raw folk rock which has continued to define their sound. In January, The Districts
arrive in Liverpool for a twice re-scheduled show, performing songs from 2020’s You Know I’m Not Going
Anywhere; an album exploring uncertainty in the modern world. The show takes place ahead of the release
of their fifth album Great American Painting, written during two months Grote spent living in a woodland
cabin during the pandemic. Anticipate a night of emotional catharsis and reaching sounds. EG
The Districts
PREVIEWS 49

REVIEWS
Jarv Is...(Stuart Moulding)
Jarv Is…
Evol @ Invisible Wind Factory - 05/11
Some artists are almost mythical in their existence.
Having carved out their own legacy through inventive
projects, a keen eye and understanding of the issues
affecting the masses, and a determined work ethic fused
with sheer talent, the status of cultural icon is thrust upon
them. Undoubtedly, Jarvis Cocker is one of these people.
After fronting one of the best pop bands to come out of
Britain, there’s high expectations for everything he does.
His newest project, JARV IS…, exceeds all of them.
The apprehensive synthesizer of Pulp’s She’s A
Lady begins our descent into the fairy tale world of Jarv
Is…. Their music is mostly whispered spoken word over
spooky and hypnotic art dance sounds, so this slots
snugly into their set. Invisible Wind Factory is an apt
choice of venue, too; the disused factory-turned-weirdwonderland
seems like it should exist in a similar, but
seedier, more surreal world.
Dressed like a Wes Anderson character in a brown
velvet suit, Cocker saunters out to a screaming crowd.
He places one foot on a monitor and pauses – before
lowering a sprig of red grapes into his mouth. As the
song accelerates, he scans the room. He launches the
remaining grapes into the crowd and flings himself full
force into song. This defines the rest of the evening we’re
about to experience.
Performing their debut album almost in its entirety,
as well as a couple of solo singles from Cocker’s back
catalogue, there’s not one lull in the excitement and
energy the band provides. Whether he’s holding up an
old mirror to the crowd or
throwing tiny chocolates
at us, Cocker remains
animated, lively and
tireless. His body jerks and
stutters along to the music,
uncurling his long limbs
like a magician revealing
a trick, and moving his
legs like a walker on stilts.
He cuts a celestial figure:
lanky, ethereal, camp.
Sonically, Jarv Is… are
robust. Each musician is
rigorous in their focus,
creating graceful and
often cinematic tracks
that oscillate in tune to
the crowd’s participation.
Cocker describes songs as
a “way of communicating with one another”, and in the
case of Jarv Is…, it’s certainly true – the performance feels
interactive and communal. There’s a consistent back-andforth
between performer and fan – when his 2006 single
“After fronting one of the
best pop bands to come
out of Britain, there’s
high expectations for
everything Cocker does.
His newest project
exceeds all of them”
Running The World inspires an impassioned ‘Maggie’s
in the mud’ chant, the band improvises an instrumental
accompaniment, much to everyone’s amusement.
Between tracks, Cocker is delightful and effortlessly
charismatic. He relays facts he’s scrawled on a piece
of A4, including an old
Liverpool festival line-up
Pulp played with a band
called Eat My Dog. He
answers most heckles
with a coy smile and a dry
response, including when
fans request old Pulp
songs, to which he feigns
confusion: “You’ve got the
wrong group!”
Cocker is an innate
performer, and Jarv Is… is
one of his most interesting
projects to date. It’s unique
and brilliantly weird;
completely unparalleled
by anything else. Musically
compelling and fascinating
to experience first-hand,
Jarv Is… put on a show you’d like to go on forever.
Tilly Foulkes / @tillyfoulkes
50

Girls Don’t Sync
Melé - Palm Trax
Boiler Room x ENRG @ Invisible Wind
Factory - 07/10
The start of the night feels intimate. GIRLS DON’T
SYNC spread love and authentic connection to their
crowd with friends including Liverpool-based artist
Kolade Ladipo dancing behind the decks with them.
Spinning classic vocal samples including Destiny’s
Child and Lauryn Hill over eclectic beats, they
slip in and out of genres like skipping through a
flip book of music. I stumble into two shufflers
bopping about at the back of the crowd and as
they snap their feet to the rhythm, I too lose
myself in the groove.
The crowd sing as they two-step, flicking
wrists up as MATTY CHIABI, HANNAH LYNCH,
G33 and SOPHIA VIOLET all hop on and off
the decks. The quartet ensure the crowd
around them are hyped from the moment
they set foot in the venue. “There’s no better
feeling than playing out to people who sing
and dance to the music you select,” they
summarise after their set, “but being able
to do that together, as genuine mates,
there’s no feeling like it.”
Determined in their passion for
making our dance spaces more inclusive,
Girls Don’t Sync are coming through
with flames. The Girls will make a noise
when they need to and trust that they
know their worth. And, with their USB
sticks in hand and headphones slipped
over their ears, they’ll make you realise your own too.
At Invisible Wind Factory, MELÉ follows and keeps
me dancing and my energy levels topped up. There is,
however, a noticeable shift in the crowd once he settles
into his set. Feeling uncomfortable surrounded by so
many lads, I find refuge on the dancefloor stretching
out behind him. I appreciate being able to drift around
the decks, the panoramic dancefloor brings a novelty
to clubbing with it. The Boiler Room intimacy is slightly
lacking, though, with the crowd kept at bay by metal
fencing, no video stream and a general separation of
artist and audience. But the crowd is excited and it’s
good to be a part of it.
PALM TRAX brings his expected groove, with a
few samples of Eurodance tunes layered over energetic
Italo. He keeps everyone bopping along until the end
and there’s a good crowd as the lights are flicked on. If
not remarkable, the night is peppered with moments of
something intriguing. A bit like waiting for a sneeze, I
never quite tip into full release of strobe lights and bodies
grooving around me before it’s time to call the taxi home.
However, there’s another story tonight. Watering the
roots of Liverpool’s dance music scene, Girls Don’t Sync
have worked relentlessly to nurture their community. Not
playing as if on a higher level to their crowd, they are one
with them. They are friends to their dancers, supporters
to their siblings in the crowd, and an inspiration to up
and coming DJs in the city. Their own roots are firmly
set in their love for music and celebration, empowering
everyone who two-steps into their energy field.
As a community promoting safety, inclusivity, and
fresh talent, Girls Don’t Sync carry love on their wings
as they’ve flown across the UK in recent months.
Establishing themselves in Liverpool and since venturing
to London and Manchester, they show no signs of
slowing down. “Liverpool will always have the biggest
place in our hearts,” they tell me. “The crowd and energy
[at Boiler Room] was extremely special.”
Olive / @olive.writing
Girls Don’t Sync (Anthony Wilde)
“Girls Don’t Sync have
worked relentlessly
to nurture their
community. Not playing
as if on a higher level
to their crowd, they
are one with them”
Mykki Blanco
Remée – Coucou Chloe
Harvest Sun @ 24 Kitchen Street -
06/11
MYKKI BLANCO wants you to feel at home. You’re
not a mere spectator, but a friend, brought into a room
full of characters with common interests and perhaps
from similar walks of life.
REMÉE and COUCOU CHLOE open the show,
forcing an admittedly sleepy crowd to gather closer
together. Remée gives us experimental RnB. She’s the
personification of a siren, sporting crimson red tresses,
a flawless mug and a pitch perfect vocal that hypnotises
us. We can’t draw our attention away.
It’s a relaxed and welcome appetiser before Chloe,
who brings the party, bouncing around the stage to a
supposedly “shit” demo, a Shygirl collab and a remix of
Lady Gaga’s Stupid Love, which appears on the Dawn
of Chromatica album. It’s almost comical that someone
in the crowd yells, “What’s your name?” She humours
them, replying in her seductive, southern French accent:
“My name is Coucou Chloe, what is your name?” before
dedicating the next song to Jim or Jill or whoever. She
ensures we’re all in good spirits, guaranteeing Blanco’s
team gets the welcome
they deserve.
As Blanco’s band
performs a cinematic intro
piece, the California-born
rapper casually strolls
around the corner and
onto the stage, embodying
an alluring milk maiden,
quite literally embracing
everyone in sight one
by one. The corset must
not hinder movement
too much though, as she
slut-drops and prances
around stage, rapping expressively through all manner
of accents, the theatrics limitless. With the growls, wide
eyes and body language, I’m reminded of a 2012 Minaj,
or Azealia Banks. But the aforementioned were never
quite so unpredictable.
Blanco commands us to form a circle, as she rips a
metal barrier from the side of the stage, rolling around
“It’s almost as though
she’s too vibrant for the
venue – a superstar
forced to perform in
the confines of a box”
on the floor with it, as though trapped in a cage, before
proceeding to hoist herself up onto the bar (to the joy
of the staff, who seem to be as full of adrenaline as the
rest of us). She shoves the
iconic Kitchen Street disco
ball without hesitation and
knocks over a speaker,
which we have to set back
onstage. It’s almost as
though she’s too vibrant
for the venue – a superstar
forced to perform in the
confines of a box – but
she won’t let it stifle her
creativity.
She informs us that, as
this is an intimate venue,
“I’m gonna be looking you
dead in your fuckin’ eyes.” She does exactly that. Every
lyric bores through to the soul, which could be unnerving,
but it feels like we know each other already, the artist
confirming that she’s already falling in love with the city.
“I’ve always wanted a Northern boy,” she announces to
the delight of the crowd, who’d like to think we have a
shot at a post-gig rendezvous. Cont.
REVIEWS
51

REVIEWS
Every band member gets their moment in the
limelight, Blanco dipping off stage while her two back-up
singers zap us into a whirlpool of vocal runs, weaving
gospel renditions of Ja Rule’s Always on Time, Ghost
Town DJs’ My Boo and Crystal Waters’ Gypsy Woman
into the set. The live translation of I’m In A Mood from
Blanco’s self-titled 2016 album is magical. The studio
version is distorted through heavy auto-tuning, but she
lets her band take the wheel on the chorus, harmonising
perfectly as they croon, “My life’s on play play fuck shit /
Aka my killa muppet / Gucci girl realness with dem villains
if you feeling lucky”.
There’s a clear musical theatre influence throughout
her set, but during Gypsy Woman, it’s as though we’re
at a rave with a refreshing twist; like a Boiler Room set
but with live vocals, and then we’re back to hip-hop
again, reflecting Blanco’s constant experimentation with
different genres throughout her discography. Having
been making music for 10 years (from the age of 25) the
show is an ode to her past work, showcasing how it all
knits together to create her current sound: a New Age
melting pot of styles.
She opens up about her HIV-positive diagnosis,
and how she assumed going public would be the end
of her career. But it did quite the opposite, bringing new
people and experiences into her life, introducing her to
a warm and supportive community that she wouldn’t
have been acquainted with otherwise. She voices this
before performing Hideaway, a track that depicts the
tale of a person falling in love with someone diagnosed
as positive, and the stigma that comes with it. The song
is infused with gangster rap clichés, a decision that
somehow works.
But there’s a femininity to her rap, an expressiveness
and precision that is seldom found in other artists:
“Getting twisted, they hella lifted, they askin ’bout them
xans / trouble making these baby faces, I’m blunted with
some man / asking me about poetry and I wanna leave
but I can’t”. There are no rules or limits to her wordplay.
The way she intonates and recounts cautionary tales
about boys, high school and drug use is captivating. It
feels as though she’s channelling her Lil’ Kim inspired
alter ego to teleport us to a campfire in Orange County;
we’re huddled around, listening intently to every bar.
The two songs that might cultivate the most
response from the crowd feature Big Freedia and Blood
Orange. The Freedia track infuses New Orleans bounce
music into the mix, while the Blood Orange tune reminds
us of Blanco’s West Coast origins, through a subtle
homage to Lana Del Rey: “Or some EPT / or some you
need me / I’m high by the beach / Lana please save me”.
We’re left feeling warm afterwards, as though Blanco
is on our team, and that everyone here kind of gets it.
We hover around for a bit, hoping she makes another
appearance, which she does. But wearing an orange
crochet bucket hat this time around, and significantly less
sweaty, having pushed her body to its limits for three
hours straight. She invites the Kitchen Street staff to
head over to the Homobloc party with her entourage in
Manchester, all travel expenses paid for, and we have to
stop ourselves from being groupies even though we want
to be. I tell her how magical the set was, and she talks
to each of us with no exasperation, very down to earth,
despite being preternatural onstage.
Having been unsure if Blanco was my cup of tea
upon the first few listens, I leave the gig reeling. I can’t
resist becoming a fan knowing what I do now. It’s the
countless stories behind each tune, the theatricality of
their live renditions, and the life and enthusiasm her
team bring to a room that makes Mykki Blanco a very
special and unique artist. She deserves to win, and for a
predominantly queer fanbase, it’s empowering to see her
doing just that.
Jack Ryder / @holidayfather
Mulatu Astatke
24 Kitchen Street - 27/10
The double-doctor and legend in his own time,
MULATU ASTATKE performs a set of 11 songs that
perfectly showcase the hypnotic musical concoction of
his own invention: Ethio-Jazz.
The band’s trumpet player, in true jazz musician
fashion, arrives only 10 minutes before the gig. With
soundcheck off to a late start, the venue won’t open
for another 45 minutes (Mulatu is something of a
perfectionist) – but through the open door, the sound
of smooth jazz plays along with an empty can of Red
Stripe that’s rolling down the street. There’s a woman at
the front of the queue who is Mulatu’s self-proclaimed
biggest fan; she tells me that his sound “is pure sex…
and it isn’t world music, but it is of the world”. She’s
right, Mulatu has seemingly soaked up music from every
corner of the globe.
At the age of 16, he was sent from his hometown
of Addis Ababa to North Wales, where he attended
Lindisfarne College and subsequently Bangor University,
with the intention of studying aeronautical engineering.
His gift for music, however, created another path for him.
Studying piano, clarinet and harmony at Trinity College
of Music in London, and then at Eric Gilder School
of Music in Twickenham, his musical repertoire was
constantly expanding. Gigging around the clubs of Soho
while playing the congas, vibraphone and piano, his ears
absorbed everything his fellow expatriate jazz musicians
were putting down.
In 1963, Mulatu became the first African student to
enroll at Berklee College of Music in Boston; where the
innovative Gary Burton attended, who invented the fourmallet
technique that Mulatu has more than perfected.
Moving to New York, he became immersed in the Latin
jazz sounds that poured out of the clubs of Spanish
Harlem. Truly a man of the world, he returned to Addis
Ababa in 1969 where he began his ambitious fusions of
everything he’d been exposed to, but most prominently
Ethiopian folklore and American jazz.
With a lengthy and thorough soundcheck
complete, 24 Kitchen Street fills to the brim as quickly
as the bartenders can pour pints. The already steamy
warehouse fills with smoke and the band makes its way
onto the stage. Mulatu tells the expectant crowd that he
wants us to experience his Ethio-Jazz with a song that
was inspired by four centuries of the Ethiopian Orthodox
Church. Using his intricate four-mallet technique, Mulatu
coaxes sound out of the vibraphone and strategically
uses the pedal to create an instantaneous hypnotic
sound.
Following his opener with an up-tempo sambastyle
tune, the upright-bass becomes the heartbeat
of the song while everything else is just flourish, and
Mulatu Astatke (Glyn Akroyd)
the trumpet and tenor sax blasts are enhanced by
synchronised dance moves. In just two songs, the group
already has the audience in the palm of their hand.
Although everyone is packed together tightly, there’s not
a single person who can keep their head from bobbing or
their foot from tapping.
Moving from a Latin feel to a more Ethiopian sound,
Mulatu shifts between the vibraphone and the congas
for the third song. With his percussion stylings at the
forefront, and the tenor sax ripping through the room,
the vibraphone fills out the sound nicely. About halfway
through the song, the band drops into half time, padding
the room with a raunchy atmosphere.
In between each song, Mulatu genuinely thanks the
audience for listening, the mark of a sincere artist. He
also takes the time to introduce the members of his band
soloing in the following song, proving he’s not stingy
over the spotlight. Introducing the fourth, and arguably
most popular, song of the evening, Mulatu gives a
special shout out to Bill Murray; the star lothario from
Jim Jarmusch’s 2005 film, Broken Flowers. He uses the
vibraphone to sketch a rich soundscape for the instantly
recognisable trumpet and sax riff of Yèkèrmo Sèw (A
Man of Experience and Wisdom), one of the songs that
features prominently in the film. The sophisticated and
slightly psychedelic sound earns an immediate response
from the audience, with extra applause each time the
group returns to the coda of the song.
Throughout his set, Mulatu adds a melange of
different instruments from all over the world: a cello,
a krar (Ethiopian six-stringed lyre), a masenqo (single
string-lyre), a flute, a güiro, a woodblock, and others
that couldn’t be seen through the crowded venue but
could absolutely be heard. From a technical standpoint,
what gives Mulatu his singular sound is not only the
“world music” instrumentation, but the combination of
the traditional Ethiopian pentatonic and non-tempered
scales, with the musical vocabulary of American jazz.
Instrumentally, the sound is both familiar and exotic; the
Western trumpet and tenor saxophones play along with
the more traditionally Ethiopian timings, giving them the
musical equivalent of speaking with an accent.
By this point, people are dancing on top of the bar,
cheering along when they recognise one of Mulatu’s
countless riffs that have been sampled throughout
the history of hip hop. Playing through the funky Chik
Chikka, the nostalgic Motherland, and the groovy
Yekatit, the sound pulses through the walls of the room,
managing to reach each audience member individually.
As someone who intended to be an aeronautical
engineer, Mulatu has sure come a long way in the
world of sound; he’s become a multi-instrumentalist,
he invented a genre, and he continues to divulge the
hidden secrets of his home country to the Western world
through his music.
Stephanie Hernandez
52

Snapped Ankles (Brian Sayle)
Snapped Ankles
Mermaid Chunky
Harvest Sun @ District - 22/10
On the back of their new album Forest Of Your
Problems, arty post-rockers SNAPPED ANKLES hit
District for a night of experimental visual and sonic
offerings. As the minutes draw near to the start of the
show, the little venue gets ever more crowded, only
hinting at the visceral energy and movement to come.
The evening’s emphasis on compositional
experimentation is established immediately as two-piece
MERMAID CHUNKY enter the stage with their flowery
costumes. What starts thinly as a simple vocal melody,
eventually becomes a soaring and dense experience,
layered with steadily added loops throughout the
progression of each piece. The first thin layer guides
the piece, however, which is soon to be adorned with
layers of synths, glossy piano chords, and many vocal
harmonies. This live approach to composition allows for
many colours and emotional drives behind the music;
some moments are dreamy, some are groovy, and
some are downright bizarre. The addition of folkloric
recorder on King of the Herbs, adds a landscape vision
to the music which certainly captures the audience’s
imagination. The consistent dynamic switches throughout
Mermaid Chunky’s set elevate the music to a progressive
and avant-garde plane, which leaves the audience both
astonished and perplexed. Either way, the arresting
visuals and sonic experimentation more than lay the
groundwork for Snapped Ankles to take the stage.
In stark contrast to Mermaid Chunky’s dynamically
shifting and genre-spanning set, Snapped Ankles make
their intentions clear straight off the bat with Rhythm Is
Our Business; immediately earmarking the angular bass
lines and rigidly consistent grooves. In true post-punk
style, these grooves inspire the movement and mosh pits
throughout the mobile crowd, but with the addition of the
carefully considered visuals the band has crafted for itself.
From the projections of urban landscapes and natural
woodlands, to their forest-like ghillie suits, Snapped
Ankles seamlessly blend a primitive and meditative
aesthetic with a whimsical and unrelentingly mobile
setlist. This establishes a nice juxtaposition that presents
the act of seeing a highly animated show as a necessary
and cathartic release of energy, which ought to feel as
natural as the primitive and urban landscapes projected
behind the band.
With the absence of guitars, the use of synths act
as a colouring effect throughout the otherwise raw
instrumentation, creating a dream-like sensation which
serves as the main link between the contrasting audiovisual
experience. This is only added to by the murky
coloured lighting through which we squint to see the
forest-like figures.
What either gives or takes from this mystery (I’m
not so sure), are the occasional breakings of the fourth
wall, as the lead vocalist with his staff-like microphone
stand joins his entranced audience. As myself, and other
audience members gather round him, the artist and
audience connection is both thrilling and playful, that’s
until it looks like he’s handing the microphone around to
spectators to sing, so I do what any self-respecting postpunk
amateur would do; I run away.
The unrelenting rhythmic pull of Snapped Ankles
and the support present a consistent theme throughout
the evening, seamlessly blending intense rhythmic
and timbral experiences with colourful, entrancing and
arresting imagery. Most of these projected images serve
to compliment the liberating release of visceral energy
and movement saved up for a Friday evening, making it
as ordinary as the projected urban landscapes we occupy
in our everyday mundane lives.
Luke Furlonger-Copeland
REVIEWS 53

REVIEWS
The Mysterines
Stone
Evol @ O2 Academy Liverpool -
30/10
Lucy McKenzie
Tate Liverpool - Until 13/03
If I were to lift the lid off Tate Liverpool and peer into
its LUCY MCKENZIE retrospective, it would be like diving
head-on into a patchwork quilt of over 20 years’ worth
of her work: a loud, can’t-quite-take-your-eyes-off quilt,
incorporating various squares of juxtaposing material, each
stitched together with powerful commentaries on feminism,
mass media and gender power relations.
Showcasing 80 works of the Glasgow-born, Brusselsbased
multimedia artist, Tate Liverpool takes the crown for
presenting the UK’s first major retrospective of McKenzie’s
work to date. With signature hyperrealistic architectural
paintings, illusionistic trompe-l’œil exercises, fashion
items and even furniture the artist designed herself, the
exhausting curation marks an assertive arrival of the
internationally celebrated artist to the docks of Liverpool.
There’s art in unexpected places here: on ceilings,
mannequins and TV screens, overflowing across several
walls and into glass boxes. Not only does the exhibition
shun the white cube aesthetic, it celebrates its very
antithesis – satisfying the most diverse of artistic appetites.
Walking through the collection, each room is both a
demonstration of McKenzie’s multidisciplinary talent and
a natural showcase of time spent at decorative painting
school – all despite being an established artist at the time.
The illusionistic trompe-l’œil paintings, with their sublime
lifelike detail, warrant special mention. The first of these
works to raise my eyebrow, Quodlibet XIII (Janette Murray)
(2011) also forced a study from various perspectives to
reassure myself I wasn’t in fact viewing something threedimensional.
Alongside a dedicated space to replicate nostalgic
scenes from Nova Popularna – an underground bar and
performance space she managed with Paulina Olowska in
Warsaw – the works of McKenzie’s fashion label, Atelier
E.B, are also present, with some items even for sale. Her
partnership with designer Beca Lipscombe – exploring
fashion research, commercial display and exhibition
Lucy McKenzie
design – has made her interests even more expansive and
demonstrates the more collaborative side of her work. “She
dips into bits of history and looks at the work of different
artists and different architects and designers,” curator
Tamar Hemmes tells me. “It’s a way of using existing
imagery rather than inventing her own and re-evaluating
or re-examining it.” This is exemplified explicitly in the
second room of the exhibition, where an array of work is
presented focusing on media representations of athletes in
the Olympic Games. In the oil painting Curious (1998), we
observe from behind a runner bending over the starting
blocks, highlighting popular media’s obsessive sexualisation
of female athletes.
This feminist undercurrent runs deep throughout the
gallery space, particularly in McKenzie’s later works which
become slightly more autobiographical. Documenting a real
incident, the 2013 painting Quodlibet XXVI (Self Portrait)
incorporates a private letter addressed to a list of curators
and artists who wanted to use pornographic pictures of
McKenzie during the 1990s for an exhibition without her
permission. By publicly sharing the exchange (undoubtedly
something that many would have preferred to keep private),
McKenzie subverts masculine entitlement and retains
ownership of her body.
Upon closing the lid on the Tate, the display doesn’t
make much sense at all. There’s no chronology and there’s
certainly no order, either. But I didn’t feel the need to
question it, and nor did I want to. “The works all sort of
interact in a way where you can see different connections in
different rooms,” Hemmes reassures. For a gallery space to
hold so many contrasting ideologies, materials and artforms,
it’s enchanting to experience the sense that each work has
every right to be there. The more you peel back the lid and
interrogate this exhibition, the more layers that fold out
effortlessly in front of your eyes – whether you spot them at
first or not.
Bryony Large / @confessionsofanartjunkie
THE MYSTERINES need no introduction.
Emerging in 2016, the Merseyside quartet have
accelerated through support slots for the likes of
Royal Blood and collaborations with Paul Weller to
tonight’s long awaited return to Liverpool for their
biggest hometown headliner to date.
STONE were called to the occasion mere hours
before they take to the stage. Enigmatic frontman
Fin Power is a punk poet of sorts, evoking a
Liverpudlian Mike Skinner with his provocative
lyrics and sung-spoken delivery. At times, he
wields his guitar like a machine gun, enthralling
the audience with the tumultuous Leave It Out and
latest single Let’s Dance to the Real Thing. “Stick
this one on your playlist,” he yells.
Anticipation builds as the lights dim and The
Mysterines appear under a scarlet stream of light.
On the eve of Halloween, Lia Metcalfe exudes
witchy vibes, dressed in a 70s-style black velvet
ensemble that would put Stevie Nicks to shame.
Her powerful PJ Harvey-esque vocals cut through
the crowd, sometimes snarling and sometimes
sonorous. Bassist George Favager dons a burgundy
blazer and enhances each song with relentless
rhythm.
They tear into Life’s a Bitch (But I Like It
So Much), an exhilarating number showcasing
Metcalfe’s cutthroat lyricism and abrasive guitar
licks. The Mysterines are known for their heavyhitting
tunes, but this number quite literally turns
the place upside down, with Metcalfe’s vocals
permeating far beyond the walls of the venue. The
sizzling stomper In My Head follows, receiving a
rapturous response from concertgoers, who sing
its anthemic chorus.
The Bad Thing, with its blues rock
embellishments and droning melody, inclines the
audience to nod in time, before it transforms into
tumultuous riffs and a tightly wound drumbeat
courtesy of recent additions, Callum Thompson
(guitar) and Paul Crilly (drums). Old Friends /
Die Hard plays out in a similar vein, sonically
resembling something between The Doors and The
Blinders.
The formidable four-piece play the title track
from their upcoming debut album, Reeling, which
is set for release on 11 th March 2022. Recent single
Hung Up packs a punch, with its scathing lyricism
and grinding guitars inciting a riotous response.
Meanwhile grungy fan-favourite Hormone
embraces the first mosh-pit of the night. A chorus
of concertgoers can be heard belting out its
memorable refrain: “Youth / Is it my excuse?”
After a brief exit, Metcalfe re-enters the stage
cradling an acoustic guitar for a spellbinding solo
performance of Still Call You Home. Her sultry
vocals supported by gentle guitar strums stir the
room to a standstill.
The band close their set with the double
assault of Death Don’t Have No Mercy and Love’s
Not Enough propelling the crowd into a frenzy,
as a rogue crowd surfer floats overhead. An
electrifying energy pervades the building, the mark
of a glorious return for Merseyside’s most exciting
export.
Sarah Taylor / @tayl0rsarah
54

My White Best Friend – North
The Everyman - 16/10/21
The anticipation prior to the readings is heightened
by a minimalist set, with only a DJ booth and singular
table and chair, reserved for the actors who will enter
the stage alone. This Everyman iteration of Rachel
De-Lahay’s original concept, MY WHITE BEST FRIEND,
features letters from Liverpool-based writers Levi Tafari,
Kiara Mohamed Amin, Dominique Walker and Brodie
Arthur. The correspondence deals with something the
writer couldn’t openly say, addressed to the person who
needed to hear it most. The letters are sealed, to be
opened live for the first time in front of an audience and
performed by an actor without rehearsals or preparation.
Tonight’s production is the moment of revealing.
The letters, centring around race, encourage the
audience to see each writer as an individual, and not as a
collective group. In a world where Black voices are often
silenced or grouped together, individual experiences
can easily be invalidated or disregarded. My White Best
Friend provides a safe and open platform to speak freely
about Black writers’ unique lived experiences. The choice
of letters as a means of expressing these experiences
means the personal stories are transformed for collective
consumption; despite the intimate setting and distinct
voices, there is a sense of personal yet public disclosure.
The bravery of the cast and writers is astonishing.
Opening and reading the sealed letters for the first
time in front of an audience, the performers’ reactions
vary between laughter, sadness and discomfort. It is a
courageous act to allow someone to share your personal
story. In a way, the actor is almost a mask for the writer.
The writers provide them the creative freedom to express
their story, which allows for a more raw and honest
depiction of the writers’ truth.
The first letter was written by the originator De-
Lahay and read by Liverpool actor Luke Barnes. Barnes
hesitates before reading the letter on which the concept
is based. Few know what to expect. De-Lahay, writing to
her original white best friend, describes the pair’s close
and valued friendship, her memories with the addressee
as a youngster, getting drunk, going out, making
unforgettable memories.
However, it slowly takes a more serious tone. It’s
clear that the letter’s original recipient is an ally but
exemplifies the unlearning we must all do in our daily
lives. It’s not the responsibility of Black people to keep
fighting against racism. Racism surrounds us every day;
on social media, in our social circles, in subtle exchanges,
and to not call it out is to be complicit.
Throughout the letter, Barnes displays compassion
and by the end of it seems to have a deeper
understanding of the writer’s perspective. Examining the
trope that having a Black friend automatically makes you
anti-racist, De-Lahay instead implores you to recognise
your privilege and to not be consumed by white guilt.
Kiara Mohamed Amin’s letter begins
unconventionally. It starts with Ubah Egal reading out
Amin’s detailed instructions for both herself and the
audience. Audience participation is encouraged and
is followed by a series of affirmations paired with the
tapping of pulse points or “energy hot spots”, a technique
known as Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT). The
purpose of EFT is to reduce anxiety and emotional
distress. We go through each energy point on the face
while repeating after Egal, stating the affirmations out
loud. Although initially, there’s apprehension at this
unexpected and unusual approach, by the end the
majority of the audience are participating.
Perhaps others take this moment for reflection.
Amin’s letter not only moves the audience, but Egal too.
We share the grief and sadness that Amin experienced
and Egal often pauses for moments of respite. There is
no judgement from the audience but rather kindness
towards Egal and acceptance and empathy towards
Amin. Although we may not have experienced
Amin’s grief, there are tears shed and compassion felt
throughout the letters. Towards the end of Amin’s letter
there is a return to EFT, necessary after the hard-hitting
letters Egal eloquently expressed, in both English and
Somali. A collective feeling of calmness settles over
the audience. Egal’s delivery and Amin’s letter act as a
reminder that kindness and acceptance can go a long
way.
Throughout the four letters, there is a reoccurring
theme of education. Whether that’s through school
curriculums, calling out friends or educating family
members. Education and a listening ear are presented
as the key to understanding each other on a deeper
level. These letters give Black writers an opportunity
to express themselves in a safe environment and share
things they may not have dared to before. A leap of faith
is required from the writers, and it pays off as the letters
are expressed brilliantly.
My White Best Friend is a breath of fresh air to
Black people and people of colour. Liverpool DJ Hannah
Lynch plays familiar RnB tunes between letters, clearly
recognising this need for a breather, and invites any
people of colour to the stage to congregate in a safe
and accepting space at the end of the performances.
Looking around the room for a final time, there are mixed
emotions, but in the best way possible. People crying,
smiling and chatting. The individual experiences shared
in the letters are unique, but we all share their underlying
pain and happiness, and without a doubt, we’re in awe of
their bravery.
Hannah Merchant
LIVERPOOL
DARKROOM
Whether you’re a complete beginner or an experienced
analogue photographer needing space to work, the dot-art
Darkroom in Liverpool city centre has everything you need
to create fantastic photographs.
Brush up your skills or learn new ones with a fully kitted-out
darkroom that can transform your camera film into beautiful
black and white prints.
Book onto a workshop and learn from a professional
photographer or get in touch to become a darkroom
member for unlimited access.
Membership is £25 per month OR £195 per year
Workshops start from £65
dot-art.co.uk/darkroom
0345 0176660
Ormond Street
Liverpool
L3 9NA
REVIEWS 55

Mo Stewart
PLAY ON
In Mo Stewart’s exploration of the intertwining fortunes of sport and
music, the sports journalist and DJ investigates the poisoned chalice
of nostalgia, and whether memory lane is the best road to take.
Although this issue covers December and
Janaury, I wanted to say something about
Black History Month. October should be a
time for anyone with an audience to shout a
bit louder than normal about Black culture, Black industry
and Black people, for those who are still unaware. It
shouldn’t be a token gesture to avoid bad PR. Believe it
or not, we’re actually here all year round. Black people are
for life, not just October.
If you’re Black and have been asked to contribute to
a project that you believe to be disingenuous or boxticking
– reply on 1 st November. You will know one way
or another.
History of another kind has been on my mind
recently. Despite some improvements, the present still
kind of sucks. Remembering former glories can ease
the pain, but as a society, we’re in danger of becoming
addicted to nostalgia.
Everyone’s at it: 20 th anniversary reissue/movie/
tour of artist’s ‘classic’ album. Limited edition throwback
jerseys. Christmas covers albums. Hiring a popular but
ill-equipped former hero to placate a restless fanbase.
Which brings me on nicely to Exhibit A, our
neighbours over in Manchester. Their biggest football
team (they are still the biggest) have a manager – at the
time of writing – whose main qualification was scoring a
goal 22 years ago. They then spent £75m and two years
chasing “the next Ronaldo”, only to put him on the bench
and sign the real-life Ronaldo.
Anyone who lives in either city or felt the shockwaves
from Manchester United 0 Liverpool 5 will know how well
that’s going. One of the oldest maxims in sports is “you
never go back”, and people have been ignoring it for just
as long. The temptation is obvious. Who wouldn’t want
to relive the best time of their life? Nevertheless, I’m not
digging my skateboard out and drinking snakebite and
black. Time has moved on. The landscape has changed.
Over-indulgence in the past becomes a barrier to
the future. Instead of fixing the problems of the present,
nostalgia acts as a distraction, waving in front of our eyes
like a bad magician.
There are no magicians in our current government,
but there are plenty of clowns. The latest joke came
in chancellor Rishi Sunak’s autumn budget, where, as
part of the levelling up agenda, £2m was announced
for a new waterfront development billed ‘The Pool’ – an
immersive, future-focused
celebration of The Beatles.
Yes, another one. Aside
from some fantastic
lyric-related putdowns on
social media, it’s an utterly
pointless exercise.
Promises of a sleek
waterfront attraction
comes at a time when live
venues are closing across
the city, an iconic, world
class recording studio on
Parr Street has been lost,
and Brexit red tape has
made it harder than ever
for our musicians to share their music with the world.
What about helping to create the next Beatles,
instead of wringing these ones dry?
All this sounds familiar. Oasis, once tipped as the
next Beatles, also have a complicated relationship with
nostalgia. Noel Gallagher will tell you with a straight face
that he’s against it, which is why the band are yet to
reform. This despite thinking that three High Flying Birds
albums warrant a greatest hits collection, and knowing
in his soul that every single audience member at every
single gig is just waiting for Don’t Look Back In Anger.
Liam has no such qualms. He hits them with Rock ’N’ Roll
Star straight out of the gate, although he’s always been a
little more… Shameless.
Nostalgia can have its uses. A friend of mine loves
Oasis, and passed that love onto her son, after years of
car karaoke. They’ve seen Liam in London, the Knebworth
documentary and have tickets of their own for Liam’s
return there next summer.
Oasis might have been the catalyst, but the boy
“Promises of a sleek
waterfront attraction
comes at a time when
live venues are closing
across the city”
has plenty of modern heroes of his own, such as Jamie
Webster and Tom Rogan. He’s starting his own band,
inspired by his peers as much as his heroes – and more
than any museum.
Nostalgia will always be big business. While humans
are still achieving, other
humans years down the
line will remind us of those
achievements, usually
for their own benefit.
Manchester City claims
Madchester as their own
to sell T-shirts and no
one bats an eyelid as
their culture is eroded.
I look forward to the
advert featuring Shaun
Ryder singing about Pep
Guardiola to the tune of
Hallelujah.
I can’t say that I’m
completely immune from the odd indulgence. I will be
watching the new Beatles documentary by Peter Jackson
just as intently as I watched Paul McCartney breaking
down his songwriting process with one of the modern
giants of production, Rick Rubin. I’ve spent hours on
YouTube watching Aaron Rodgers make unbelievable
plays in the aftermath of defeat for my own Green Bay
Packers. It’s great to remember the good old days once in
a while, but we can’t stay there.
It’s all well and good using the past to inspire the
future, but if you can’t secure the present, what kind of
future will it be? !
Mo Stewart is a writer, presenter, pundit, and DJ. He
can be found writing for Liverpool.com, presenting for
The Anfield Wrap and DJing in Motel on Friday nights.
@The_Mighty_Mojo
Illustration: Chloé Stephenson
COLUMN

Jeff Young
THE SPACES
IN BETWEEN
Exploring our city to find hidden tensions and overlooked beauty, author
Jeff Young follows the visitation of a mysterious white stag to Bootle and
ruminates on a city’s wont to transcend reality.
But once in a while the odd thing happens,
Once in a while the dream comes true,
And the whole pattern of life is altered,
Once in a while the moon turns blue.
W. H. Auden
In the opening scene of Michael Cimino’s Bambi, a
woman drives along a north Liverpool road, past car
showrooms and junk-sprawl rental sheds. The driver
doesn’t know it yet, but she has passed through a
mysterious rip in reality, into a wilder, stranger Liverpool, an
altered state of wonder and impossible possibility. Through
the windscreen she sees, suddenly, a fantastic beast and
she cannot believe her eyes – a white stag running, past
Skoda and Volkswagen dealers, into a version of Bootle
that no one has ever dreamed of. Liverpool’s reality has
tilted off its axis into a mythic dream-warp and the antlered
beast is a spectral visitant from a wilder region beyond the
city sprawl...
Let’s put to one side for a moment the obvious/
regrettable fact that Michael Cimino didn’t make a
live action film version of Disney’s Bambi and set it in
Bootle. On Twitter, for a few, fleeting moments, one of
Liverpool’s most boring stretches of road is made strange,
re-enchanted. I watch the beast as it runs along the
roadside, heading north towards the container docks in
Seaforth, dragging strangeness in its slipstream. Where
has it come from? Where is it going? What is it thinking?
It comes out of a secret portal like a half-forgotten myth
out of a storyteller’s throat; something strange – at last! –
something unexpected in the humdrum everyday grey. I
watch the footage several times, scraps of myth-memory
assembling in my imagination, out of the pages of Man,
Myth & Magic, of Celtic legends in childhood picture
books, of fantasy novels. White stag, messenger from the
underworld, the beast that appears when a taboo has been
transgressed, when we are in trouble. An omen, a warning.
Once in a while the odd thing happens, an
unexpected event or vision startles us into seeing the
city in a different light, as if the subconscious of the city
has broken through its skin like a dream-fiction escaping,
becoming part of the external reality, messing with the
document. In Naples I watched crystal meth addicts
outside the train station, dancing in slow motion in a
half-asleep choreography. Five minutes later I saw a lion
tethered in a fruit and veg shop when I stopped to buy
some oranges. Ten minutes later I was browsing in a
shop full of puppets in a street full of wedding dresses.
Sometimes the city has its own imagination, it is a
dreamer and the dream. When I was 17 and working
as a filing clerk in the city’s business quarter, I watched
an airship slowly circling the tower block I worked in.
I walked through a plague of ladybirds – a moving
sidewalk of insects in their thousands, crawling like a
beautiful disease over the terraces and aerial walkways
of New Hall Place’s brutalist sandcastle. For three days
the city became a hybrid of architecture and insect, a
melding of the revolting and the beautiful. Instead of just
moving through the city from workplace to sandwich
shop, to train station, the unexpected moment made me
pause, and look, and wonder. The city wasn’t just the
monochrome grind of work, shops, traffic, commute, work
– it was spontaneous and strange. It had become science
fiction, like the J.G. Ballard books I was devouring at the
time, like a Roxy Music B-side.
Sometimes the unexpected moment is a place, rather
than an event. In Liverpool I duck through
the covered alley into the secret garden
of the Bluecoat Chambers, into a different
atmosphere, a decompression chamber, a pause
that slows the city down. It has a different
mood to the surrounding streets, a different
tempo, a different music. It is an altered state
and, in turn, it alters us. I stand in front of
the old Wine Lodge on Moorfields, missing
Richard Wilson’s Turning the Place Over, that
audacious perforation in the ruins – abandoned
architecture transformed into art. And then the
bucket fountain in Beetham Plaza, the sound
of falling water and kinetic clang and spill of
Richard Huws’ glorious mechanical water theatre – again,
a pause, a different urban atmosphere. (And don’t listen
to the property developers when they say they love the
fountain and want the best for it, and that’s why they
want to move it somewhere else because that is utter
spiv-speak.)
So, this white stag running, this glimpse of something
unexpected – it startles me. Spontaneous glimpses of
wonder don’t happen very often in the junk-sprawl of
the North End docklands, in that mediocre subtopia of
multi-storey car parks – an array of parking options – and
iconic Grade A office developments. It’s unlikely we’ll turn
a corner in some visitor economy development and catch
a glimpse of something that makes our hearts leap with
joy – unless you’re the sort of person who gets excited by
a conference centre or yet another office block that Junk-
Sprawl PLC describe as ‘iconic’ when they really mean
imagination failure…
Once in a while the odd thing happens – Batman is
on the roof of the Liver Building and Liverpool is Gotham
City – the ever vigilant Caped Crusader watching over
the city that never sleeps; day after day at sunset,
God switches on his glorious free cinema and the sky
hallucinates a dissolving dream of reds, pinks and
yellows; in the dark of an autumn night I lie on the ground
and watch the space station passing over Otterspool like
a sky-spider unspooling a thread of light across the night;
on the Mersey, seven porpoises head upstream on the
incoming tide, as if the river is rewilding itself; I come out
of the Brewery Tap and suddenly see the artist ATM’s
Northern Dune Tiger Beetle scuttling across the bricks
of a Stanhope Street building; look up there, above the
Cathedral and spot the peregrine falcons, up there on the
edge of things, the Gothic silhouette...
I wander through the North End docks, looking for
tomorrow. Even though the developer’s brochures and
websites tell us these
non-places are the future
of the city it feels like the
“Sometimes the
city has its own
imagination, it is
a dreamer and
the dream”
end. This is not the city,
this stultifying ‘seamless
extension’ of car parking
options, wheelie bin
storage areas and ‘varied
range of leisure and
lifestyle amenities’. There
is no sense of place,
no story, no dream, no
imagination, no heart or
soul – the main reason
being there is hardly a soul to be seen.
Michael Cimino’s Bambi doesn’t end well. The white
stag keeps running north, trailing memories, dreams,
stories and visions in its slipstream in a doomed attempt
to warn us that our soul is being sold. That the story is
being erased. That the odd thing is being repurposed
as a nothing. In a car park on some industrial estate the
white stag – trapped, wild eyed, panicked and desperate
– is cornered by the police. And then it’s shot. It doesn’t
belong here, in the last days, in the dead days of the
non-place. Once in a while the odd thing happens. It
happened. It’s over. Black out. The dream did not come
true. !
Jeff Young is a writer for theatre, radio, sound art
installations and performance. His memoir, Ghost Town: a
Liverpool Shadowplay is out on Little Toller.
@ jeffyoungwriter
Illustration: Chloé Stephenson
COLUMN
57

presents
2021
2021
01.12
PUNK ROCK FACTORY
02.12
WE ARE SCIENTISTS
01.12
CLEAN CUT KID
08.12
ELECTRIC SIX
06.12
ASH
10.12
THE TWANG
10.12
WILL & THE PEOPLE
11.12
IAN PROWSE & AMSTERDAM
18.12
BLACK FOXXES
2022
2022
21.01
05.02
26.02
24.03
26.03
16.04
17.04
22.04
22.04
28.04
21.05
BOB MOULD
GLASVEGAS
JASON ALLAN
CUT CAPERS
THE ALARM
HRH PSYCH
HRH PSYCH
WHITE BUFFALO
RHYTHM OF THE 90S
WILLIAM DUVALL
THE WEDDING PRESENT ’SEAMONSTERS’ 30th ANNIVERSARY
14.01
21.01
28.01
04.02
11.02
12.02
26.02
19.03
31.03
21.05
05.06
22.10
CAST PLAYING ‘ALL CHANGE’ AND A GREATEST HITS SET
GUNS 2 ROSES
THE SOUTHMARTINS
FRANK TURNER & THE SLEEPING SOULS
GORILLA RIOT & DOOMSDAY OUTLAW
CAST PLAYING ‘ALL CHANGE’ AND A GREATEST HITS SET
PRINCE TRIBUTE ENDORPHINEMACHINE
ALABAMA 3
THE FRATELLIS
MEN WITHOUT HATS 40th ANNIVERSARY OF ‘RHYTHM OF YOUTH’
HANG MASSIVE
ALIVE - A TRIBUTE TO PEARL JAM F.K.A. “PEARL JAM UK”
18.06
EARL SLICK
04.07
FOLLAKZOID
ARTS CLUB LIVERPOOL
O 2 ACADEMY LIVERPOOL
TICKETMASTER.Co.uK

OLIVE WRITES
Telling stories of wellbeing and safety in light of a spur of homophobic attacks in Liverpool, poet
Olive speaks to multi-disciplinary artist Kolade Ladipo about queer expression, creating queer
roles within the acting world and the intersectionality of queer and Black identity.
Liverpool is my home, but it keeps stepping on
the necks of my queer family and it’s splitting
my heart down the middle. Although we remain
resilient in standing up against these hate crimes,
we need our allies now more than ever to make this city a
space to be queer without fear.
The energy spiralling around me is wrapped up in
artist Kolade Ladipo, who sits before me with a warm
smile and tender self-confidence. We order two herbal
teas and watch the people splashing past us down Bold
Street.
A shape-shifter, Kolade channels all the aspects of
himself through various art forms. Whether capturing
intimacy through his photography, slipping into new
characters as an actor, or dancing on stage in heeled
boots and flames beneath his feet, Kolade is woven with
intention whatever discipline he steps into.
Having survived a homophobic attack in Liverpool
this summer, Kolade shifts around conversations of safety
and self-expression. My heart is heavy with these stories. I
wonder when we will allow artists to just create art and let
them remove this crown of activism they’re often forced to
wear for their own survival.
“I’m comfortable here. It’s my home, too, and I need
to make sure this city is safe for other queer Black people.
Not that it’s my job to, but it’s what I feel I need to do,”
Kolade tells me, sipping on a sweet chamomile tea, his
gold chain bouncing the light back to me.
“Me and my friend (Felix Mufti-Wright) started a
collective called Here And Queer which was created after
my attack this summer,” Kolade explains. “It’s an ongoing
project where we take photos of queer people in either
safe spaces, or the spaces they were attacked in. Taking
photos is such a powerful thing, but it’s not the only thing
we do. We are reaching out to more venues and spaces
and bridging that gap between them and other companies
who can train them on specifically queer and racial safety.
To help people understand what their venue needs to be
doing, especially to ensure the safety of queer and Black
people.”
This discussion of safe spaces comes up a lot,
especially within the LGBTQ+ community. A main issue
which continues to arise is that the majority of queer folk
will automatically wrap themselves in defensiveness (even
subconsciously) when in a space which is not visibly queer.
“As queer people we feel the need to ‘come out’,”
Kolade adds. “We’ve had to spend such a long time hiding
ourselves, so when we try to find our safe space where we
feel like we can be our authentic selves, it tends to be in
only queer spaces. I’m in a place on my journey where I can
express myself anywhere, but there are still times when
I feel on edge. [We need to work on] making sure we
take the right steps so venues are as safe as they can be.
Letting people be safe no matter where they are.”
This intersects with Kolade’s Black identity, too. “I
want to see more Black people within industries, working
in shops. Same for queer people.” Kolade paints the air
with his hands as he releases his frustration: “I want to see
more visibly queer people in industries. Where is visibly
queer [in Liverpool] where I can go to, besides ‘gay town’?
Which isn’t a Black space either.”
At this point, visibility and inclusivity should be a
given within any industry, but it is sadly not always the
case. “Growing up, every time I watched a rom-com it was
always with a straight couple, but when I saw one with
two men, I was like, ‘Oh my god, I get it’.” Still, it seems that
cis, white, heterosexual characters are the default. There is
hope, however, with TV shows such as Pose bursting onto
Netflix’s most popular watch list.
This issue gets
stickier, however,
when straight people
are casting to play
queer roles within the
acting world. “When
it comes to queer
people playing straight
roles that’s a different
thing,” Kolade explains.
“Often, queer people
have gone through life
being assumed they’re
heterosexual. But when
people act trans or queer and they’re heterosexual, it’s
false. You can’t understand or bring your own truth to their
struggle,” Kolade explains. “It’s frustrating because there
are always queer people who are qualified to play the role
instead.”
The issue stems from who controls access to these
creative industries. It can feel impossible when the
gatekeepers to opportunity are locking doors to new talent
who exist outside of the white, cis, hetero world. Kolade
shares with me how this has impacted his experience as
a third year acting student at LIPA. “In the whole of third
year across all of the courses there is maybe maximum
15 Black people,” he tells me. “On my course I am the
only Black person. It’s frustrating because there are areas
literally on the doorsteps of these drama schools that they
hardly tap into, like Toxteth, for example.”
Kolade’s art and voice are a light of hope in places that
feel shrouded in darkness. It occurs to me that his work as
an artist has taken the path of activism when this may not
be his only creative goal. “It’s the unintentional prejudice
of people,” Kolade sighs, “which I then have to explain to
“I need to make sure
this city is safe for other
queer Black people. Not
that it’s my job to, but it’s
what I feel I need to do”
them and then they feel bad about it. But it’s like, ‘I don’t
want to deal with your white guilt’. I go to university to
learn acting. But because I am so active with social rights
people expect me to always talk about it. And I want to,
but I also don’t want to burn out. I shouldn’t have to be the
one to step up all the time.”
And I agree. It would be much easier if people just did
their own work and artists didn’t have to become activists
or teachers all of the time. If only our art could exist for
ourselves and not always have to be a political statement.
If only our music, dance, photography – and yes, even our
columns printed at the back of pink magazines – didn’t
have to be filled with stories of conflict. But here we are.
This work to make our city safer and better is of
course so important, but it hurts that it is needed. “We all
have to be more aware of each other,” Kolade concludes.
“As animals, we are selfish and primal, but as human
beings we can be
compassionate and
caring. At the moment
I feel we can be lacking
that for each other.
Especially in the arts
world.”
This compassion
for each other is where
everything ends and
begins. Removing the
labels we place on one
another and allowing
ourselves to stand
bare and human before each other is the only way. We
need to see each other with love and openness; to allow
expression to blossom and hold space for all people.
Otherwise, we stay stagnant. Otherwise, we are still not
safe. Otherwise, our creative city becomes a cesspit.
There’s so much good blooming in this city. I have felt
the love here with authenticity and a fullness that can only
be conjured from genuine connection and acceptance.
Water these spaces. Step up for the people whose voices
are sore from shouting for their freedom.
Stand with us. Be the light. Be the love.
And maybe one day, we can proudly say that our
waterfront city is a loving home of a flourishing LGBTQ+
family. Until then, we have our hope and our voices. I
think it’s time to use them. !
Olive is a queer poet, spoken word artist and music
journalist currently based in Liverpool. Her work is
inspired by nature, mysticism and human connection.
@olive.writing
COLUMN 59

Join us to celebrate a new issue of
Bido Lito! and see some of the best
emerging talent live on stage.
28th January
Kazimier Stockroom
SARA WOLFF
J. Madden
alright (okay)
FREE
ENTRY FOR
BIDO LITO!
MEMBERS
Advance tickets via
bidolito.co.uk/whats-on
PARRJAZZ PRESENTS
SATURDAYS
Saturday 11 th December
LIVERPOOL
Friday 24 th December ROB STRINGER
XMAS EVE SPECIAL 12 NOON TILL 3PM
IN
NEIL YATES Saturday 4 th December
BLIND MONK DUO
FRANK GRIFFITH
Rob Stringer singing all your festive favourites!
Saturday 18 th December
FREE ENTRY
FROM 8:30 EVERY SATURDAY
BOOK YOUR TABLE AT:
www.maboyles.com
Ma Boyle's Alehouse & Eatery, 7 Tower Gardens, Liverpool L3 1LG
PARRJAZZ_BIDOLITO.indd 1 22/10/2021 12:50

THE FINAL
SAY
“We’re facing a time of cultural
and social readjustment
after a rupture in our normal
lives, and this gives us the
opportunity to rethink some
of our social conventions”
After a series of events challenging accepted norms around live music gigs, Where Are The Girl
Bands? are looking to continue asking questions and maintain a dialogue with the gig-goers of
Liverpool. As they launch a new survey, Eve Machin talks about developing the city’s live music
offer into a place for everyone.
The case of Sarah Everard drew attention to
women’s safety, especially at night. Downloads
of location tracking apps increased, many
music venues reiterated their safety policies
and there was a flurry of advice, some of it addressing
men and their behaviour on nights out. We at Where
Are The Girl Bands? debated hosting an open discussion
with men who are willing to learn more about the issue.
In fact, we’ve wanted to encourage the involvement of
men in our work and discussions for a long time, as our
audience is inevitably female dominated. It can feel like
we are somewhat preaching to the choir, and this is a
time for men to engage. However, it’s a sensitive subject,
essentially telling men how they ought to behave, and I
don’t think there’s any right way to go about it. Instead,
we turned to the idea of hosting an open discussion with
gig venues open to people of all genders to participate
with the aim of coming to a kind of plan.
We had conversations with the likes of Keychange, a
global network looking to restructure the music industry
in reaching full gender equality, and Girls Against, a nonprofit
organisation campaigning against sexual assault at
gigs. We also looked into encouraging venues to undergo
safety training with the likes of Good Night Out to prevent
harassment and assault in their spaces. It’s still very much
our plan to engage local venues in this discussion and
point them in the direction of organisations doing fantastic
work to ensure safety on the live music scene.
Bloom Building in Birkenhead contacted us offering a
space to host events and provided a perfect opportunity.
We’d test out some of our ideas around challenging
conventional gigs and put some of the project into
practice. We wanted to ask some fundamental questions:
why do gigs follow that same pattern? Why are we stood
up, holding a beer? Why’s it so loud you can’t hear your
mate talking? Should we even talk over music? Is there
any need for the amount of flashing lights they have?
Does it need to be this dark? Do gigs even necessarily
need to be at night? After all, there have always been gigs
that think outside the box – look at the Great Gig In The
Sky, or Max Richter’s eight-hour symphony performed to
a sleeping audience. But these are still huge spectacles
and not entirely normalised concepts.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good thrash around at a
gig and I like them the way they are, but thinking about it,
a lot of events are pretty inaccessible to a lot of people. A
few discussions with our network led to an understanding
of what people wanted to see more of – and less of – at
gigs. We got an idea of what we could do to make ours
safer and more accessible, kicking off with a launch event
in July. Among the mentioned factors were disabled
access, a lack of zero-tolerance policies and the presence
of female security guards.
While easing back into live music, we wanted the
gig to be tranquil and easygoing. We hosted discussions
around accessibility in gig spaces, encouraging people
to start conversations and feel more at ease. This
was followed by a reiki meditation session led by the
wonderful Lyndsay Price, which really highlighted
that sense of intimacy and created a different level of
engagement with the music that followed. The audience
were seated or reclining on cushions and beanbags, as
Sophie Bernice played a dreamy set of soft folk songs. It
was a lovely evening, with audience members invited to
give feedback afterwards, several remarking how different
it was from anything they’d been to before.
As well as looking at the format and the line-up,
we ensured the venue was fully wheelchair accessible;
gender-neutral toilets were available, as well as quiet
spaces for people to use if they needed. We offered
concession prices on tickets and established a zerotolerance
policy towards harassment. It’s small actions
behind-the-scenes that ensure gigs are fully accessible
to all; equality, diversity and inclusion checks as well as
frameworks to prevent labour exploitation, and venues
should be making checks on their accessibility and safety
policies. If we’ve learned one thing, it’s that communication
with your audience is the most important thing. This makes
events more enjoyable and accessible to all and appealing
to a wider pool of people.
We’re not saying ours is the ultimate solution and the
quintessential model that everyone should follow. But,
for many, it made for a successful transition back into
live music. Equally, being public and transparent about
real policies and genuine steps made avoids an air of
performativity and makes gigs safer and more enjoyable
for all.
Following our launch event, we also hosted a series
of Development Days and workshops open to all. Over
the years, our network has grown from musicians to other
FEATURE
creatives working in the music industry – photographers,
writers, artists, producers and more. In order to provide
for everyone, we have been inviting local artists to lead
workshops in these disciplines, bringing together the local
creative community, encouraging networks and enabling
personal and professional development and collaboration.
Our hope is that venues reconsider how they use their
spaces. A gig space, for example, can be used not
exclusively for shows but to nurture the local community
of creatives that use it and make it what it is.
The events series comes hand in hand with a survey,
which we’d really encourage everyone who’s ever been to
a gig to fill out. This is all about addressing the needs of
the local community and scene, and Ella and I alone aren’t
representative of that, of course. More than anything, we
just want to chat about what works on the scene – it may
be perfect and there’s not a thing you’d change – and
what doesn’t quite hit the nail on the head for you. We’re
also excited to be running a competition as part of the
survey. Submit a gig idea to us – as radical as you like –
and the winner will get their gig idea realised at Bloom
Building.
Epidemics and pandemics are markers for change.
Often, after a catastrophe, recovery is needed which
often requires new discourse, new ideas and new modes
of living. The impact the pandemic has had on culture is
undoubtedly enormous. We’re facing a time of cultural
and social readjustment after a rupture in our normal lives,
and this gives us the opportunity to rethink some of our
social conventions.
Although everything can supposedly legally go back
to normal, and although I am thrilled that this means
financial stability for venues and joy for audiences and
artists alike, the reality of the experience of live music for
some people will be far from that. Gigs and venue spaces
still need to account for financial loss, new audiences,
new technology and adapting to the pandemic itself.
Music, after all, is for everyone – alternatives need to be
made available. !
Visit bit.ly/watgbsurvey to fill out the Live Music Spaces
Survey.
Words: Eve Machin / @wherearethegirlbands
Photography: Lucy McLachlan / @lucy_alexandra
61

ARTISTIC
LICENCE
Angie Woolfall is a Liverpool-born writer and member of the Poised Pen Writers Group
whose work has been published in Writing on The Wall’s Write Minds anthology.
Examining a bus journey as a microcosm of Liverpool, Travelling Light is a celebration
of community, solidarity and hope.
Words: Angie Woolfall / @ a_word_slinging_woolf
Travelling light
The collective consciousness rolls by on its wheels
Inhabitants talking or eating their meals
Students, locals and classic bohemia
Gazing from windows
Scrolling through media
Workers and carers
Mothers and lovers
Sharing the journey
Looking out for each other
Giving up seats
Picking up toys
Precious belongings of the girls and the boys
A dog climbs aboard
We smile as a whole
The unspoken contract
With love as its goal
Smile and be smiled at
That’s how we fly
Accept that some won’t
But don’t assume why
Made harsh by life’s sharpness
They have to save face
But given the chance
Most have good grace
The kind and brave pool where solidarity wins
And hate is for losers and fascists get binned
A city built by migrants
We pick people up
No tolerance for arrogance
We’ll fill up your cup
With smiles or with ale
Kindness and change
The weird and the wonderful
The bold and the strange
As we get off the bus
‘Can I squeeze past you there’
A community condensed
A collective of care.
62

FAIRYTALE OF
ARGYLE STREET
A CELEBRATION
OF THE POGUES
CHRISTMAS EVE
@ FUTURE YARD
7PM TIL LATE
TICKETS £15
FEATURING
ASTLES
BY THE SEA
DOGSPORT
NIK GLOVER
PELICAN BAND
THE SHIPBUILDERS
+ MORE SPECIAL
GUESTS TBA
DOORS 7PM
TICKETS £10
ALL PROFITS
DONATED TO
CHARLES
THOMPSON’S
MISSION
HOMELESS
SHELTER
TICKETS AT
FUTUREYARD.ORG
VLURE
COURTING
DAN DISGRACE
PORTAMENTO
THE CAUSEWAYS
TIDES
PLUS
DECKS TAKEOVER
DJ NACE (NICK EVANS) + FRIENDS
LIVE SHOW + PARTY
@ FUTURE YARD
NEW YEAR’S EVE
HOGMANAY

28TH DECEMBER 2021
CHRISTMAS SPECIAL
MARCO CAROLA
MICHAEL BIBI
YOUSEF
JADEN THOMPSON
CHLOÉ ROBINSON
BLACKSTONE WAREHOUSE, LIVERPOOL
2PM TIL 11PM TICKETS: SKIDDLE