underground london – and so she thinks

Colour on the commute – London Transport Museum Lates

admin — Thu, 08 Sep 2016 19:29:24 +0000

Like most people in London, I have a mixed relationship with the transport system. Whilst I sigh at the packed commutes, feel exhausted walking between tubes at King’s Cross, and berate the never ending engineering works, I will defend it with passion to anyone else who dares to criticise it. For a system that opened in 1843, goes nearly 60 metres underground, travels 82.5 million km and carries 1.43 billion passengers each year, the underground is quite remarkable. More than 90% of Londoners live within 400 metres of a bus stop, and around half of all UK bus trips take place in London. And few places can also boast trams, river boats and a cable car as part of their standard transport system. Anyone who has attempted public transport outside of the capital soon realises their impatient stomp and sigh at the SIX WHOLE MINUTES until the next train is, basically, ludicrous.

One of the other things I love about this city is the museums. The London Transport Museum in Covent Garden may sound a bit nerdy, but it’s really a celebration of and education in something that keeps our daily lives ticking. At this month’s Late it’s all about colour. There will be talks on the psychology of colour and its influence on behaviour, an explanation of just why the tube lines are the colours they are, art activities based on the iconic roundel, and some more frivolous and fun nail bars, cocktails, and bars. All part of their Designology exhibition, it’s a night that shows how transport is more than just A to B for London, and how much thought and development goes into it.

Adults only, this Friday 9 September 2016 from 6.45, tickets are £12 and available here.

Getting things off the chest of Earthling Brains

admin — Wed, 15 May 2013 17:03:27 +0000

It’s tough to know which category to file this post under. Are Earthling Brains musicians or artists (let’s not get into the discussion about them being one and the same thing). As well as a fantastic band whose debut album is released by Forward Defensive Records on the 10th June, Earthling Brains is also a comic strip drawn by Joe. If all this sounds confusing, I spoke to Joe to try to shed some light on things.
So…what is you do exactly?
I started drawing about two years ago, started the Earthling Brains comic strip about a year and a half ago, and I’ve been uploading strips on a weekly basis since April 2012. I liked drawing and comics when I was a kid but gradually just lost interest.
I guess I started drawing again for a couple of reasons. At the time I was having trouble with my hearing and started thinking I might not be able to play music for that much longer without causing some serious damage. So I needed a plan B in terms of a creative outlet. And then I started getting into comics again and thought I wouldn’t mind a crack at that. Plus, compared to most hobbies it’s pretty cheap to get yourself going!
At the start I had all these plans to write something important and the comic strip was just a way of making sure I drew a couple of times a week! I haven’t got round to the important comic yet….
Have you found the secret to the human mind then? Describe a typical earthling brain.
Pink and spongy! And prone to silliness.
What do you get out of it?
I suppose the main thing is a creative outlet, but I like the diary aspect. I mean, it’s a pretty patchy diary, but most of this stuff happens (though I do get complaints when I’ve misrepresented someone for a punch line). It’s also satisfying printing up comics and hearing from people who read them.

Are you more a musician or a illustrator and artist?
I think it’s been 50/50 this year. I’ve done some cool drawing-related things (a comic in Off Life magazine, contributed some of the booklet art for Darren Hayman’s new record, and finished my first non-Earthling Brains comic, but actually they’ve all been related to music in one way or another!
My new comic, The Long Night Is Over is a companion piece to the album I’ll Leave A Light On For You. The next couple of big projects I’m planning also involve combining music and comics because you can tell the same story but in completely different ways.
I’ve been making music for a while and I have a sort of confidence about doing it that I lack when making comics. But at the moment I’m interested in putting the two things together, so half and half is about right!

What sort of things do you comment on, and where do you get your ideas?
Disappointing summer blockbusters, hot water bottles, video games, whatever happened that day… Like I say, it’s based on stuff that actually happens, one way or another. Almost inevitably the silly stuff. I grew up on newspaper comic strips so that style suits me down to the ground (though my strips tend to have more swearing).

Do you find there is much of ‘scene’ around comics and zines?
I’m sure there is, but I tend to operate in a bubble… or have done up until more recently. I had a table at DIY Cultures 2013 at Richmix last month and that was the first time I’ve been in a room full of people on a similar wavelength, trying to flog comics and zines. That was cool but a bit daunting too.
If you’re in a scene, the tendency is to produce something that will satisfy that audience (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I think you run the risk of hitting a dead end, creatively. I think the most important thing is to try to be happy with whatever you’re working on, and worry about how it’s perceived at another time.
Earthling Brains – I’ll Leave A Light On For You is available on June 10th on Forward Defensive Records

London Story Slam

admin — Tue, 29 Jan 2013 20:17:19 +0000

Written for the London Story Slam
The guy to my right takes a sip of his coffee, the thud of its stained base being placed on the table just masking the name of the person on the other end of the phone.
‘Yeah, I’m living in London unfortunately.’
Mid gulp, the hot syrupy liquid in my mouth swells, as difficult to swallow as the overheard comment. Over the rum of my mug I scan the room. No one else flinches. There is not a flutter. Heads buried in laptops, bottoms planted in seats, they don’t seem to have registered that last word. ‘I’m living in London…unfortunately.’
I push back my chair from the table, the chair legs scraping the tiled floor in the same way that his comment grazed my ears. A middle aged women in the corner twitches her disapproving head towards me, with a glare that surely made her soya milk curdle. Moving with ferocity is not on the menu here.
‘Unfortunately?’ I splutter. ‘Oh yes, one is so unfortunate.’
The poor guys looks up at me with a degree of bewilderment in his eyes.
‘You don’t deserve to be here’
‘8 million people call it home. All afflicted souls are they? I’d hazard a guess that the 26m who visit every year don’t share your views.’
He looks away from this madwoman, sips his drink.
‘London is still paved with gold in the dreams and hearts of many, the place for destiny to become reality. As a child I used o press my nose against the dirty window pane of the South Eastern service, my heart leaping with knots of excitement, the mantra of ‘I’m going to live here, I’m going to live here’ nestling in perfect unison with the soundless spaces left by the clackety clack of the wheels of the track. I wouldn’t say I am unfortunate to be here.
‘Where else, in one saunter, can you be Elizabeth Bennett, Oliver Twist and Septimus Smith, all by simply crossing the street or turning a corner?’
By now a few other members of the clientele have been jolted into, not motion as such, but a certain level of curiosity as to what the hell this frantic female is yelling about.
A paused for breath enabled me to to just catch the old man in the purple leather chair grunt a derisory ‘Hormones’ into his grey beard, then settle back into The Times.
‘Have you never stood on Parliament Hill and seen London stretched out before you, icon after icon, all in one neat row, a scenic snapshot of beauty over a myriad of activity.
He gathers his papers, eyes firmly fixed to the floor.
‘Or gazed on the moonlight on flickering on the Thames, a thousand million different mirrors, glistening at variegated angles, ricocheting lights of the city, sometimes right into your eye, so bright that your brain is dazzles and you tumble in love again.
‘Do you want to go for dinner? ‘ I venture enthusiastically, as though the last few minutes have been a witty interchange of banter between the two of us, rather than a tirade of abuse at his choice of vocabulary.
A vehement ‘No’ turned my offer down.
‘Yeah, let’s go out – I’ll prove to how lucky you are to be here. Lebanes on Edgware Road, or some Greek up in Green Lanes. Or maybe you’d prefer a snack – we can get a bagel from Daniels in Golder’s Green.
‘Think about it, what can possibly be lamentable where you can be anyone you like, changing identity through a desire for exploration or escape, faster than any superhero can by putting his pants on the outside. London is the ultimate date – looks and a personality.
He goes to take another sip, and stalls. The cup runneth empty. I now have his full, if not voluntarily devoted, attention.
‘I mean, yeah sometimes the tubes are delayed, light pollution is a problem, and it rains, but where else do you pass through places on your way to work that as a child you thought only existed in board games?
Needing support, I rack my brain for opinions of those more authoritative than myself. Plato said that what makes a city is the people. Do you think that everyone here is doomed, hapless souls wandering their cursed streets? Or John Berger, he reckons that London is perpetually a teenager. A heady cocktail of hope, desire and potential – sometimes tough to be sure, but exhilarating, and with all of life ahead, certainly not unfortunate. Or Blake, he believed there to be no finer sights that the view from Westminster Bridge, and he didn’t dish out praise lightly. I stop short of asking ‘when the sun is in the sky, why oh why, would you wanna be anywhere else?’
Except of course, I don’t say any of this. I push my chair out, pick up my bag, and walk out of the American coffee chain, into the soulless shopping centre, and vow that rather than think about how much I like London, I need to live like I love it.