Wednesday 20 April 2011

Patrick Wolf - Lupercalia Review



Taking its name from an ancient pagan festival to purify health and the city, Patrick Wolf’s fifth album finds the notoriously obtuse singer in a newly joyous mood. Lupercalia strips away the conflicted rawness and theatrical aestheticism, replacing it with humble themes of urban domesticity and love. The pop melodies are bolstered with oom-pah horns and lush strings, but the lyrics are emotionally expansive and the songs have room to breathe. Bermondsey Street is an anthem of bisexuality and the universality of love, while Patrick extols ‘scatter my ashes on this place’ in forthcoming single House. It’s not a death lament but an ode to life; the album’s working title says it all: The Conqueror.

4/5

Marques Toliver Feature




‘That’s fresh!’ says Marques Toliver when I tell him that listening to his EP, Butterflies are Not Free, is like a bolt from the blue. The 24 year-old Floridian turns up for our chat with his afro towering above other pedestrians and boyfriend in tow.

'This is Tom,' Marques introduces us, his white teeth gleaming and eyes twinkling. Given that so many musicians choose to remain sexually ambiguous when launching their careers, his candour nearly knocks me for six. Actually, it makes sexuality into a non-issue.

Butterflies Are Not Free is a unique fusion of Marques' influences (think of a jam session between Vivaldi and Stevie Wonder with Destiny's Child on backing vocals). It’s a 4-song multi-instrumental mythopoeia that tells of one man's journey to find himself, and contains some of the most beautiful gay love songs you’ve ever heard.

Marques sings from the heart, howling and caressing the soul of his compositions with his expansive baritone voice. I'm inspired by stories,' he tells me. 'The first track 'Charter Magic', is named after the magic in Phillip Pullman's Dark Materials - but I also get inspired by some little poetic blurb posted on Twitter.'

Who's his dream collaborator? 'I'd have to say Beyoncé. I couldn't say what kind of record we'd make though - it would probably be a whole new style of music!'



This article appears in the May issue of Attitude, out now.

Planningtorock - W Review




W is a sublime synth chamber piece from Bolton-to-Berlin Wanderer Janine Roston (aka PTR). Less upbeat than her 2006 debut, W creates a layered soundscape which is sometimes threatening, but utterly entrancing. Living It Out shimmers with Roisin Murphy-esque Italo, while Roston’s vocodered vocals have an uncanny alien empathy. This isn’t wilful obscurism – W has the off-beat anxiety of the best pop.

5/5

Tanjong Rhu Article

Boo Junfeng

Boo Junfeng’s film is a cry in the dark, a howl against the insidious homophobia of the Singaporean Government, who in November 1993 entrapped 12 men in a coastal cruising ground called Tanjong Rhu. The victims were charged with 'outraging their victim's modesty' and punished with prison sentences ranging from two to six months, along with three strokes of the rotan cane, which leaves permanent scarring on the buttocks.

For the then 10 year-old Junfeng, the events left an indelible impression. ‘I remember my teacher in class telling us not to go there because there were perverts lurking in the forest’, he recalls, speaking from his Singapore bedroom.
The film Tanjong Rhu was banned in its own country just days before its premiere ('I still haven't received any official response why', says Junfeng) the film is now seeing the light of day as part of the latest instalment of the ‘Boys on Film’ DVD series, which is titled ‘Pacific Rim.’ Pun intended, presumably.

Still from Tanjong Rhu

The facts are ugly, but from them Junfeng weaves a beautiful and meditative film about love in the face of institutional homophobia. His 19-minute short focuses on a young man named Kelvin and his reflections on Tanjong Rhu a decade after being arrested there by a plain-clothes police officer. The clincher: Kelvin was not just looking for sex, but returning to the place where he met his dearly-missed ex-boyfriend David.

‘I’m actually quite a romantic,’ Junfeng tells me. ‘I wanted to suggest that a relationship beyond just sex that could have come from a place like Tanjong Rhu. Especially in the pre-internet early 90s – these were the only places that gay people knew how to socialise and communicate.’

Shockingly, gay sex is still criminalised in Singapore. 'In the Seventies, Bougis Street in Singapore was well known for its drag culture, but now it's just a shopping street,' Junfeng says sadly. 'They're trying to project an image of being a progressive world-class city, but they're desperately making all these symbolic gestures that really don't mean anything.' Tanjong Rhu counters this, showing the film’s titular cruising ground not as a place of illicit sex, but as a locus of desire in the face of a society dominated by tradition and conservatism.

In the film, Kelvin's flashbacks show the romance and physical intimacy between him and his ex David. While happily accepted by Kelvin's grandmother in her home, theirs is a love that cannot be communicated in public. Particularly heartbreaking is a close-up of the lovers' hands as they walk down the street. They brush fingertips, longing to touch but unable to. The image speaks volumes about the Singaporean attitude to homosexuality: don't ask, don't tell.

'But I feel most at home in Singapore,' Junfeng says, his love of his home city clear. 'If you come here, you have to come to the gay district - on Sunday it's Boys' Night!' For now, it seems, Junfeng is happy where he is. 'All we need to do is constantly challenge the authorities and hopefully things will get better.'

And with the tenderness of Kelvin and David's relationship as memorable as the beauty of Tanjong Rhu's frames, it might just be that love can save the day.

This article appears in the May issue of Attitude, on sale now.

Monday 11 April 2011

Glasser Live Review



Photo by Holly White

XOYO, London, 22/2/11

'I feel like Janet Jackson at the Superbowl!' Unlikely words to come from the mouth of Cameron Mesirow (a.k.a. Glasser), but when your gingham petticoat rips on the heel of your platform clogs, what's a girl to do?

Riding a wave of critical acclaim in the wake of her 2010 debut Ring, a home-recorded ouroboros of interweaving vocals and ambient electronica, the 26-year old has fast established herself as a unique and captivating performer. Mesirow's ethereal vocals and striking outfits (tonight she is a Japanese warrior come pop-pom pirate) have led to comparisons with Bjork and Joanna Newsom, but her show is less about a natureres sensibility than a thoroughly contemporary sonic melodrama.

During set opener Apply, her soprano voice cascades over maritime foghorns before menacingly shrieking to the song's close. She resembles a sexually-powerful shamanic princess, her body convulsing to dissonant xylophones and timpani drum rhythms. On Mirrorage she is a glacial chanteuse, her vocals breathy and alluring over the Italo-influenced beats. Mesirow is at her best, though, when her vocals are accompanied with the merest of instrumentation. On T, woozy drunken synths frame a heartbreakingly self-effacing love song: 'I will cut all the blues, to decorate your room.' You feel that her headress is less a décoratif than a protective helmet against the aural depths she plumbs.

This review appears in the May Issue of Clash, out now.