Right McConnell, that's it. Whenever my regime take power, you and your success will absolutely be the first against the wall. Z1's at the ready...
Read the entire post and download the videos over at the Bandwidth site.
I swear this is the last time you're getting a mention for a while... seething, I am...
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Monday, 31 August 2009
Friday, 28 August 2009
we should shoot it in space
Will Ferrell/Adam McKay's Funny or Die is usually a great source of self-deprecating A-List humour (see 'Bat Fight', May 14th 2009), and this one's no different!
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Sunday, 23 August 2009
trying to pull myself away
As an addendum to the last post: as I was falling over myself to compliment Lisa et al I forgot to mention a brilliant quote from Glen Hansard which really struck me. Glen is famed for his legendary audience interaction - to the point where at the last couple of gigs I've been too I've found the heckling OTT. Along with feeding off those listening, he has a wonderful habit of explaining the meaning behind each song before he plays it, in a way similar to a musician who's assuming his or her audience are hearing this piece for the first time. For many this would come across as quite pretentious; with Glen it always seems quite genuine, even when you've heard it a few times!
Before playing the uber-successful Falling Slowly however, he said something a little different. It's a song that I, like many long-time Frames fans, can feel a little robbed of. Mr. Reddan often remarks how, on the occasion of the pulling together of a uni supergroup to play at the QUB St. Patrick's festival several years ago, we covered the song to a room of unrecognising faces, pleased with ourselves to have found something so stonkingly good that so few people had heard. Now, even those who couldn't pick a Frames song out of a lineup can recall hearing it on Cool FM. Frames fans in Ireland seem to be a tight-knit community of thousands, where instant bonding is made through our loyalties; thus, to have the Swellies escape the pen with Once and become recognisable to millions almost hurts a little. "They're mine!" we scream, "I was there first and I'll be there when you're gone..."
And like I described when talking about Lisa Hannigan, the boys and Marketa still seem to possess that same sense of humble bewilderment when dealing with their fame. It's reflecting on that, then, that Glen came out with this great quote (I'm paraphrasing from memory.)
Before playing the uber-successful Falling Slowly however, he said something a little different. It's a song that I, like many long-time Frames fans, can feel a little robbed of. Mr. Reddan often remarks how, on the occasion of the pulling together of a uni supergroup to play at the QUB St. Patrick's festival several years ago, we covered the song to a room of unrecognising faces, pleased with ourselves to have found something so stonkingly good that so few people had heard. Now, even those who couldn't pick a Frames song out of a lineup can recall hearing it on Cool FM. Frames fans in Ireland seem to be a tight-knit community of thousands, where instant bonding is made through our loyalties; thus, to have the Swellies escape the pen with Once and become recognisable to millions almost hurts a little. "They're mine!" we scream, "I was there first and I'll be there when you're gone..."And like I described when talking about Lisa Hannigan, the boys and Marketa still seem to possess that same sense of humble bewilderment when dealing with their fame. It's reflecting on that, then, that Glen came out with this great quote (I'm paraphrasing from memory.)
This next song... I guess, here's the metaphor for this next song. It's like when you get your football, and you're kicking it at the wall in the garden behind your house. And you get a really good toe into it - you know, really get a good hit. And the ball... the ball goes over the wall, you really got a good toe in. But it goes right over the wall, and then over your house, and then out of the town. And that's kinda how I feel about this song. Four fifths of me is going, "That's amazing! That's absolutely amazing! I can't believe I just did that! That's my ball... that's incredible."
But then there's still that fifth of me going, "I want my f***ing ball back."
Thursday, 20 August 2009
splishy splashy
Was up in the Maiden City a couple of nights ago to catch The Swell Season/The Frames at the Millennium Forum, as they head off to tour promoting their sophomore effort (as the Swellies entity, not counting the Once soundtrack.)
Been fortunate now to see the guys in their many guises four or five times now, which puts them into a box with a few other lovely bands; like a my favourite pair of trousers, they're exceptionally comfortable and familiar, but every time I put them on I stick my hand in my back pocket and pull out a mixture of magical old bits and bobs, and something strange and exciting that I didn't know was even there! (I know what you're thinking - where does he get these magical trousers? These days, it's M&S - but that's another rant for another time.)
The real treat of the evening though was one I'd been looking forward to immensely; finally getting to see Lisa Hannigan, who was providing the support for the evening off the back of an incredibly successful push across the US with her debut record, Sea Sew. Hannigan has had a bit of a funny few years; after being fired backstage in Germany by Damien Rice, she went off, found herself, regrouped and turned out what is my record of the year so far. (The Mercury Music Prize nom goes some way to vindicate me in this one!) Coming across as somewhere between pretty awkward and ridiculously 'arty' (you know what I mean), she seemed immediately likable as an artist - and that's exactly as she came across on stage. (I've referred before to her apparent brilliance on this very blog, in fact.)
After the Swellies had taken the roof off the place (including finally playing Heyday in my presence - been quite literally waiting years for that one, we hung around for a while as Lisa & co. came out to do a signing. Having acquired a digital copy (cough) of the record a while back for sampling's sake, I felt I owed it to them to buy it, so decided to stick around and get it inked.
Maybe I'm ridiculously polite, or just lazy, but I found myself drifting around the periphery of the scrum and realised I was standing among Hannigan's band, who were off to one side, looking amused and having a sneaky drink from the bar. Ended up being literally the last person there after getting stuck into talking about glockenspiels and touring with the great Donagh Molloy, multi-instrumentalist extraordinaire.
Came to the conclusion that the band are just annoying: I was under the impression that the unwritten rule of celebrity was that they're supposed to come off as friendly in public, but be twisted and insecure in private. Lisa & Co. bucked this trend; they were all fantastic. Lisa was really warm, and the guys were all a bit of a laugh to boot. After only mocking me mildly for being last, and apologising to the better half (who had spent this whole time tapping her foot and fixating on the huge drive we had yet to do), we did the photos thing, talked a bit more, and then cleared off just as an irritated looking member of staff was walking across the foyer with a big bunch of keys. A very pleasant experience was had (and more importantly, no repeat of the infamous Crowder incident! (see 'The (in)glory of it all', June 6th)
They'll go far, those lads (and lass.) Highly recommend scooting over to YouTube for some videos and to Lisa's own site for lots of random niceness - including some interesting sounding cake recipes!
---
Been fortunate now to see the guys in their many guises four or five times now, which puts them into a box with a few other lovely bands; like a my favourite pair of trousers, they're exceptionally comfortable and familiar, but every time I put them on I stick my hand in my back pocket and pull out a mixture of magical old bits and bobs, and something strange and exciting that I didn't know was even there! (I know what you're thinking - where does he get these magical trousers? These days, it's M&S - but that's another rant for another time.)
The real treat of the evening though was one I'd been looking forward to immensely; finally getting to see Lisa Hannigan, who was providing the support for the evening off the back of an incredibly successful push across the US with her debut record, Sea Sew. Hannigan has had a bit of a funny few years; after being fired backstage in Germany by Damien Rice, she went off, found herself, regrouped and turned out what is my record of the year so far. (The Mercury Music Prize nom goes some way to vindicate me in this one!) Coming across as somewhere between pretty awkward and ridiculously 'arty' (you know what I mean), she seemed immediately likable as an artist - and that's exactly as she came across on stage. (I've referred before to her apparent brilliance on this very blog, in fact.)After the Swellies had taken the roof off the place (including finally playing Heyday in my presence - been quite literally waiting years for that one, we hung around for a while as Lisa & co. came out to do a signing. Having acquired a digital copy (cough) of the record a while back for sampling's sake, I felt I owed it to them to buy it, so decided to stick around and get it inked.
Maybe I'm ridiculously polite, or just lazy, but I found myself drifting around the periphery of the scrum and realised I was standing among Hannigan's band, who were off to one side, looking amused and having a sneaky drink from the bar. Ended up being literally the last person there after getting stuck into talking about glockenspiels and touring with the great Donagh Molloy, multi-instrumentalist extraordinaire.
Came to the conclusion that the band are just annoying: I was under the impression that the unwritten rule of celebrity was that they're supposed to come off as friendly in public, but be twisted and insecure in private. Lisa & Co. bucked this trend; they were all fantastic. Lisa was really warm, and the guys were all a bit of a laugh to boot. After only mocking me mildly for being last, and apologising to the better half (who had spent this whole time tapping her foot and fixating on the huge drive we had yet to do), we did the photos thing, talked a bit more, and then cleared off just as an irritated looking member of staff was walking across the foyer with a big bunch of keys. A very pleasant experience was had (and more importantly, no repeat of the infamous Crowder incident! (see 'The (in)glory of it all', June 6th)They'll go far, those lads (and lass.) Highly recommend scooting over to YouTube for some videos and to Lisa's own site for lots of random niceness - including some interesting sounding cake recipes!
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Wednesday, 19 August 2009
as the arrows fall
Just snapped an eyeful of Will's latest output over at Bandwidth Films. (That man does churn them out at a shocking rate: you'd think the government were funding him or something. Oh, wait...) Perennial favourites Maguire & I are, it would seem, getting around to making a bit of a push to get 'out there', and lo and behold, they pop up in the latest installment of the "In Stores Now" series.
I'm a big fan of Will's work on his music videos; on one hand he seems to have been profoundly scarred by Russian Ark, but on the other any slips in the long shots are compensated for by some great work with colour on the post-production side of things. The sound is almost always top notch too, just to add to the insane jealously. I think we've all forgiven him for the pretention-fest that was Either/Or (which I've seen at least three times in varying forms... for my sins.) He seems to have gotten over it well.
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IN STORES NOW#10: MAGUIRE & I from Bandwidth on Vimeo.
I'm a big fan of Will's work on his music videos; on one hand he seems to have been profoundly scarred by Russian Ark, but on the other any slips in the long shots are compensated for by some great work with colour on the post-production side of things. The sound is almost always top notch too, just to add to the insane jealously. I think we've all forgiven him for the pretention-fest that was Either/Or (which I've seen at least three times in varying forms... for my sins.) He seems to have gotten over it well.
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Monday, 17 August 2009
show me the money
Having not blogged in several weeks, I'm at that horrible point now where there's too much to talk about to say anything, and therefore it's easier just to pretend none of it ever happened. This includes, but is not limited to: New Wine Ireland, Camp Alliance '09, more gigging, the better half now being a doctor, leaving Belfast, and fixing a car with plastic glue (again!). Perhaps I shall recap these at some point (there's two or three points of note that are worth highlighting - two words: "sky lanterns".)
However, one other thing casts a lengthly shadow over all of these things: I started a new (non-videography related!) job. It's very nice so far: today I've mostly been considering funding for a trip to an open farm and catching up on some reading about Baptism theology. Something though that has been a pain in the rear - enough of a pain in the rear to motivate me to write, in fact - has been money.
It's fantastic to be in salaried, contract, relatively secure post. Brilliant. Proper job, in fact. However, despite having departed my previous employer in June (having ceased actually working for them in April) I still have not received a P45. Several phone calls, much buck passing, and a couple of very annoying people at the tax office later, and STILL no P45. Which leaves our poor treasurer, who obviously didn't know me from Adam previously, trying to figure out from some scant financial details, how to stop me having to pay through the nose.
This isn't my only irritating experience of HMRC recently though - oh no. July 31st saw the due date for claiming Tax Credits pass. On behalf of another family member, I had undertaken to inform the HMRC of a change in circumstance that would remove eligibility. Fair enough. At the start of July I tried to use the online system. The form didn't work. Tried again. Failed. Fair enough, I thought - I'll just phone this nifty helpline. Surely even the civil service can't get that bit wrong.
But here's the REALLY ANNOYING bit. It's one thing being put on hold for a while. It's another sitting on it for 25 minutes. So I gave up. Tried a few more times in the following three weeks. Same again.
Is this office being manned by a lone chimpanzee? Is the entire province calling at the same time? Is it my fault? Was it something I said?
With only five days to go, I was getting a little worked up. But hurrah - when I phoned this time, the messages and automated system had changed. Fast tracking had begun. 3-4 minutes later, and I was following all the little instructions to perfection, merrily tapping away. And now surely, to finally speak to a personal advisor.
"Sorry, but all our staff are busy at the moment. Please try again later." CLICK.
The machine cut me off! I tried again - surely, it's possible to speak a person at some point... CLICK! What?
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This morning, we received a letter to say we were no longer eligible for Tax Credits, having failed to report it.
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I hold out little hope for my P45.
---
However, one other thing casts a lengthly shadow over all of these things: I started a new (non-videography related!) job. It's very nice so far: today I've mostly been considering funding for a trip to an open farm and catching up on some reading about Baptism theology. Something though that has been a pain in the rear - enough of a pain in the rear to motivate me to write, in fact - has been money.
It's fantastic to be in salaried, contract, relatively secure post. Brilliant. Proper job, in fact. However, despite having departed my previous employer in June (having ceased actually working for them in April) I still have not received a P45. Several phone calls, much buck passing, and a couple of very annoying people at the tax office later, and STILL no P45. Which leaves our poor treasurer, who obviously didn't know me from Adam previously, trying to figure out from some scant financial details, how to stop me having to pay through the nose.
This isn't my only irritating experience of HMRC recently though - oh no. July 31st saw the due date for claiming Tax Credits pass. On behalf of another family member, I had undertaken to inform the HMRC of a change in circumstance that would remove eligibility. Fair enough. At the start of July I tried to use the online system. The form didn't work. Tried again. Failed. Fair enough, I thought - I'll just phone this nifty helpline. Surely even the civil service can't get that bit wrong.
But here's the REALLY ANNOYING bit. It's one thing being put on hold for a while. It's another sitting on it for 25 minutes. So I gave up. Tried a few more times in the following three weeks. Same again.
Is this office being manned by a lone chimpanzee? Is the entire province calling at the same time? Is it my fault? Was it something I said?
With only five days to go, I was getting a little worked up. But hurrah - when I phoned this time, the messages and automated system had changed. Fast tracking had begun. 3-4 minutes later, and I was following all the little instructions to perfection, merrily tapping away. And now surely, to finally speak to a personal advisor.
"Sorry, but all our staff are busy at the moment. Please try again later." CLICK.
The machine cut me off! I tried again - surely, it's possible to speak a person at some point... CLICK! What?
---
This morning, we received a letter to say we were no longer eligible for Tax Credits, having failed to report it.
---
I hold out little hope for my P45.
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