Bill Ryder-Jones Salem Rages Loka Lizzie Nunnery Bill ... - Bido Lito!

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20 <strong>Bido</strong> <strong>Lito</strong>! December 2011 Nik Glover Rants/Comment The Glass Pasty Post-it Notes from the Cultural Abyss Post-it Notes from the Cultural Abyss ‘Sing, Sing Attenborough’ As the temperature drops and the sneeze-ohmmeter soars through the roof in public spaces the nation snuggles up on the couch puts aside perpetual bickering, applies the cold sore cream, attentively dunks a Hob Nob into a steaming hot cuppa and enjoys the wonderful joy that is the BBC’s Frozen Planet. This is a show of spell binding beauty, real artistry and incredible camera work. In an age where it is almost impossible to watch TV without being permanently reminded of what went before or what’s coming next it is a great joy to sit back and slowly become engulfed in the wonders of our planet. Critics of the Omniscient The Monster Shop The shop, if it was a shop, definitely existed, I am absolutely certain. I’ve I’ve spoken to a lot of different people, all roughly my my age, who remember actually visiting or seeing it after it had had closed. The shell of it remained, dilapidated, scaring the local kids for years after, me included. If you jump the train from West Kirby, a row of shops appears on your left as you leave Hoylake station. Sometime in the eighties, alongside the train tracks, in a single storey brick building, the Monster Shop was opened. What complicates the picture is that I also saw it in a dream, which has distorted it in my memory. From what I remember it was a single storey building with a flat roof, barbed wire www.bidolito.co.uk bidolito.co.uk bidolito Overlord Attenborough may feel that the Knight of the Realm doesn’t get his digits dirty enough and instead commentates from a distance overseeing procedures like some Roman Emperor sipping on Mulberry Wine whilst being fed dried figs by an array of scantily clad young boys watching the cruel savage brutality unfold below. Nothing could be further from the truth gentle reader; I instead instead picture him as the the ever diligent Lord Vader menacingly pacing up and down The Death Ship (BBC) frightening the living living shit out of everyone at the British Natural History History Unit with his immense charisma, other worldly worldly aura and slow burning virility. Whatever your view it is safe safe to say say that that a detached around the edges, and here and there strange, grotesque figures. I’d guess they were made with a wire frame, coated with plastered bandages, in the way you see mummy’s being made, or with clay; something which could be molded easily and would be hardwearing when fired and painted with thick, shiny paint. There were vultures, goblins, rats, every lurking, scuttling or scavenging creature you can think of, all lined up along the roof, some leaning over the wire, some raising a withered claw into the sky in anger. This is where the memory begins to blur with the dream. In my dream the shop was actually a kind of grotto, with the entrance crowned with elf-like figures, a brown bear in chains, some downtrodden Attenborough perspective can be applied to our little species and thus it is indeed in this vein that the rest of today’s lecture will continue. It is imperative that this following section be read with the voice of Sir David in mind. GOTHS - These light fearing mammals are often covered in darkened robes adorned with garish tattoos and piercings of the flesh, they while away their time huddling outside centres of ‘alternative’ commerce grazing on a number of caffeine based high energy drinks and derivatives of metal based music. The male male of this particular species species may may be seen to to indulge in Medieval based role play play or ‘gaming’. ‘gaming’. Not Not to be confused with their offshoot cousins the EMO tribe, an altogether different beast, often crudely characterised as Goth’s on skate boards. THE ORANGE ONES - Predominantly and manacled goblins and mockedup rotten fruit. Over the threshold you’d enter a black corridor with displays behind glass screens. A colossal millipede rears up while tiny, humanoid figures grapple with ropes attached to hooks buried into its flesh. Another scene is framed by two bulky Aztec pillars; an overweight panther sits on a decapitated throne, a crown falling over one eye, his great chin rested drunkenly on a paw, staring into space while a rodent in a grass-skirt fans him with a yellowing palm leaf. In the next case three witches butcher a crocodile for magical ingredients; in another a Polynesian cannibal sits with a look of absolute serenity under the shadow of a blood-and-algaecoated standing stone. These horrors existed, not in a fairground town, in Ripley’s ‘Believe feminine in nature, natives of post industrial towns and cities, they offset their grey dreary existences by weekend thrill seeking in all manner of bodily excesses. The ritualistic application of a wood seal like tanning agent is integral to their hunt for brief courtship. Thin strips of luminous garment and oversize jewellery are worn by the ‘hunters’ and are viewed as paramount in ensnaring an unsuspecting shirt wearing male. A recent phenomenon amongst this particular species has been the monthly injections to the face, buttocks and lips to create a bloated fish like aesthetic; again this is seen as instrumental in attracting a partner. Fare thee well readers and join me next month when we will focus on Urban Hippies and Online Bloggers… it or Not’ or one of those curtainedoff attractions along the prom, but in a small town, next to a Chinese restaurant, opposite a fire station. The fear; the probing, ambivalent violence of those figures had no place in suburban Wirral circa 1990. Hoylake is a seaside town, but its brief spell as a resort abdicated along with Edward VIII, never to return. Aside from a luxury golf course there is little that remains of a tourist culture, certainly nothing of the grotesque of the fair that you can still glimpse in certain buried rooms and papered-over doorways in Blackpool. If you remember something bizarre and unsettling about your childhood, why not share it by emailing takemeforanexample@gmail.com
Guest Column Peter Guy, Getintothis.co.uk Peter Guy, Getintothis.co.uk Back in 2007, when I began writing my Daily Post & Echo music blog Getintothis, I was contacted by Thurston Moore’s London-based PR asking if I’d send her Liverpool fanzines or weblinks to gauge what was going down on Merseyside. A thorough sift through Bold Street, the Ropewalks, and every nook of the independent scene threw up little but Tom George’s Slacker Sounds. Push forward 12 months and Capital of Culture sparked a regeneration of not just the commercial sector but ignited an arts renaissance as a new wave of innovation seeped through the city’s pores. With Sound City, Music Week, the Kazimier’s formation, promoters (EVOL, Samizdat, Meshuggy, Harvest Sun, La Racaille, etc) taking risks with no financial guarantee - and the rebirth of a host of scenes within a scene - Liverpool gave rise to the strongest sonic landscape for years. Today, Liverpool is thriving with writers, photographers, creative entrepreneurs and most of all, new music - a complete shift from when Getintothis began. In 2012, Getintothis is five and in celebration of a city with three music festivals competing for UK honours (Sound City, Music Week and Creamfields), numerous celebrated studios and DIY labels, the national music press’ top hype band (Outfit) and musician (Forest Swords), and a stream of others garnering widespread attention, I’m launching a new Liverpool music honour - the GIT Award (that’s an acronym of Getintothis - insert your own joke!) - championing the best Merseyside recordings of the year. Think of it as the Scouse Mercury Prize – however, the only criterion is that it has a distinct connection with Liverpool, i.e., the recording was created, produced or recorded by Liverpudlians. Unlike the Mercury, there will be a transparent judging panel, thus far comprising Vice magazine editor Andy Capper, EVOL’s Steve Miller, Waxxx mag’s Joshua Burke, myself, and editor of these pink pages, Craig G Pennington. Further, as many grass roots musicians won’t record a full album in 12 months, we’re asking that four tracks be submitted to be eligible for entry - think of it as an old school EP. What What started as a little little idea has snowballed snowballed into something to be proud of. With more than 50 backers (including the City City Council, Probe, Probe, Liverpool Vision, Vision, NME, The Quietus), The GIT Award hopes hopes to unite Liverpool’s rich sonic diversity; diversity; embracing all forms forms of music from hip hop hop to electronica, country country to to punk, punk, folk through to rock & roll and metal: the GIT Award Award is is open to all. And And the prize? It’s a belter. Sandhills Studio is offering free recording time, the winner will play Sound City, Music Week and Vice’s bar Old Blue Last; while Virgin Media Shorts film-maker of the year nominee Ian Gamester will produce the winner’s video, to be screened at FACT. And this is just the start... So spread the word, The GIT Award is ON: send your four tracks to getintothis@gmail.com or Peter Guy, The GIT Award, Liverpool ECHO, PO Box 48, Old Hall Street, Liverpool, L693EB. If you’re a business and would like to get involved email getintothis@gmail.com For updates visit getintothis.co.uk
Page 1 and 2: Issue 18 December 2011 Bill Ryder-J
Page 3 and 4: Editorial It feels a little strange
Page 5 and 6: BRITISH SEA POWER LUNASA THE SMITHS
Page 7 and 8: T he slender frame of BILL RYDER-JO
Page 9 and 10: Mon 28th Nov � £10.50 adv Electr
Page 12 and 13: Lizzie Nunnery: A Life On The Stage
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Page 24 and 25: etween the brisker songs and the so
Page 26 and 27: BONGO BEAT RECORDS! TREAT ME LIKE D
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Bill Ryder-Jones Salem Rages Loka Lizzie Nunnery Bill ... - Bido Lito!

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