Paying more to see a tribute band than the real thing: World Book Day, and why the Kindle fails.

I remember World Book Day fondly as a child. We got a £1 book token, and off I went to WH Smiths to get my book, which was usually a brilliant Roald Dahl one. Now, at the age of 25, my over-riding memories of World Book Day are from when I was around 7 or 8, in a world in which if you wanted to know about a moment in history, details of a television series, or more about a musician, you looked in a book; hours were spent in the library looking up information on World War II, for example, first in an encyclopaedia, then a book on battles of note, taking you to specialist books on WWII. Now, we could find this information in 3 minutes on the internet, the very tool you are using to read this now.

How do children of this so-called “digital generation” still relate to books? I turned 13 when we got our first computer with internet, which was a little behind some other people, but by that point my relationship with books growing up was formed and if there had been a Kindle or e-book around then, I wouldn’t have been swayed. I think that relationship is very important growing up, not only through the process of learning to read, but the acts of taking books out of the library, the sheer size of some of the pictures books I remember looking at with my mum (probably smaller than A3, but that seemed substantial at age 6), and the emotional bond with those books. I still have many of the books I read as a child, as does my mum. I can’t imagine a situation where you would ask someone if they still have the books they read as a child and they respond to the tune of “no, all I read was on a Kindle/computer”, so they have no physical objects: that to me would be a BIG chunk of your childhood missing.

So, in this world, is the era of the book (or at least, printed word) dead? In my photography degree that’s coming to an end in June, the internet has been an invaluable tool in researching. If I need to know what year Ansel Adams took the famous photograph of Mirror Lake in Yosemite or the director of photography for the James Bond film Moonraker, I could find out both answers in the time it’s taken you to read this post so far.

However, to me, this only ever feels like the “prelude” to the research, which then takes place in books. Not only is there the vernacular of books (the relationship of typography and layout with the page, and in terms of photography books, the relationship of an image to the one on the opposite page and the ensuing narratives etc.) which you simply don’t get from scrolling down a page, but also there’s scientific studies that have proven that your mind takes in (and more importantly, remembers) information better on a printed page than a computer screen.

The digital world does some things very well, but books can’t die because the digital “replacements” are just imitations, and not convincing ones at that (I remember one of the adverts for a Kindle showed a tanned woman on the beach having a great time reading her Kindle, because apparently sand in a book is infinitely more trip-spoiling than in the nooks and crannies of an electronic device). In the music world, we were being convinced that iPods were the future of music: I know personally of several people whose CD collection was their life, and they downloaded the lot to their iPod and sold them (usually at a tenth of what they paid for them). About 3 years ago, my local well-known music store jettisoned half its CD racks in favour of an iPod section, only to nearly go under: last year they had a vinyl section again and vinyl has hit a sales high not reached since 1996 (including Pink Floyd’s latest record, The Endless River, being the fastest selling record since 1997): the message here? People will always come back to the real thing.

Fifty Shades of Grey, while may be remembered more as the film version, showed that the power of a book is still alive and kicking. While arguably not quite a groundbreaking future classic on par with To Kill a Mockingbird, The War of the Worlds or even On The Road, it shows that in a digital world, it’s still a book (whether you were a fan or not) that engaged with people, got them talking and made newspaper and chat show fodder for several months after it’s release.

This is why I believe the book will never die, and that the Kindle and e-book will be a passing phase and something we look back on in years to come with a cynical smile. Each generation has one of these moments; for my parents it was the 8-track cassette in the late 70s, and for me it was the “wonders” of w@p internet on your phone, circa 2003. If either of those things has made you pause and think either “what is that?” or “Oh ... I remember having/hearing about that”, then remember that feeling, because that’s surely how your son or daughter will react to you mentioning your beach-damaged Kindle in 20 years time.

"I’m also a photographer" – Andy Summers and the release of Can’t Stand Losing You

In a week that sees a Valentine’s Day U.S release for Andy Summers’ Can’t Stand Losing You, the film based on Police guitarists’ best-selling memoir One Train Later (we in the UK have to wait until 20^th March), it is also worth remembering that Summers is also a very accomplished photographer in his own right. Remember? You didn’t know in the first place? Well, that’s ok as the phrase “don’t give up your daytime job” seems to be invented for people who become renowned in one area, and because of that are given free reign in another: musicians who think they can act (remember Rihanna’s star-making turn in Battleship? Me neither) and worse still, actors who think they should sing (there are exceptions of course: people as disparate as Peter Falk and Derren Brown are also gifted painters). So upon hearing that a musician has been taking photographs, you’d be forgiven for thinking they’re not necessarily going to be world-beating.

 

Happily, Summers’ work stands apart from his record-breaking time with The Police. In fact, had he not answered Steward Copeland’s ad, he quite possibly could’ve become a bigger name in the photography world without the baggage of being “a rock guy” as well. I came across his work by being a fan of The Police, and enjoying his back-stage shots and candid moments in the studio, but very quickly discovered that there was more to them (and my interest in them) than that, and a keen eye for composition and drama was evident in all of his work, as well as evidence of inspiration from Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Frank, Ralph Gibson and even Edward Hopper.

 
He exclusively used B&W 35mm film (generally favouring a high contrast printing style), and all the rock-band-on-tour clichés are captured, with a much greater sense of intimacy. The self-portrait above for example couldn’t have been taken by a Jill Furmanovsky or a Mick Rock, because the trademark Police grins would come out, and as a result Summers’ Police world is vastly different than the Technicolor blond hair shots we’re used to seeing.
  

All bands now have a behind-the-scenes photographer, and we know what to expect. Summers captures those moments of wiping a post-gig brow with a towel, and an over-flowing craft service table, but includes the moments that any sensible editor wouldn’t: behind all the grinning fans, there’s promiscuity, which while it’s makes for a beautiful photograph, Summers cynically highlights the shallow nature of that relationship, while still indulging.

There’s also drug use, and the jet set myth-busting moments of looking miserable in airports (as well as an abundance of shots on buses, and later, their own private plane), and a notable absence of forced mugging and joshing, which is the staple of band shots when taken by an outsider.
 In the film, Summers shares memories and photos from the band’s career, leading up to their much-hyped 2007 reunion tour. Even those of us that don’t own any of the music, we all know the words to Roxanne when it still regularly pops up on the radio, and we all know the ironic misconception behind the lyrics to Every Breath You Take, so whether you are a casual or die-hard fan, prepare to have another world opened up to you in the form of Andy Summers’ photography, and perhaps never again will you be cynically sceptical when you hear that a musician is also a photographer.

"There is a moment when you want to read a magazine, not a novel" - Bono

Current listening: Jon & Vangelis – Private Collection

I’m going to do some shooting at London Fashion Week at the end of the month, and some of the images can be uploaded in to a competition run by Canon, with the stipulation that they be submitted at a maximum of 45 minutes after the shoot. The subtext is surely then that they should be unedited, or at the very least, without days of manipulation to create something almost wholly unrecognisable from the reality they claim to be depicting.

With this in mind, I decided to submit some work to the brilliant Dreamingless magazine, who only accepts photography that has had no editing on the models. I found them on Twitter after taking part in #sbhour (from 8-9pm on a Sunday) and sent off 2 projects of mine, both of which included little (or no) editing at all.
I’ve had some work in an online magazine before, as well as my own (Magpie), and that’s fantastic and of course I’m very grateful, but for me there’s something much more satisfying about having my work in an actual printed magazine, as that was what I fell in love with in the first place (both magazines as a genre, and my work that had magazines as a final destination in mind). The experience of being able to sit down and flick through the magazine, which, as the title of this blog (which was stolen from Zoo TV era Bono) references, there’s also a lightness to them (in comparison to a book) that I love. Even though they are essentially the same format, it made me think of the way Stephen Shore compared the difference in feel between Polaroid SX-70 prints and then trying to recreate the square look on the Hassleblad: “it always felt weightier; it never had that light touch”.
Anyway, I’m very flattered that Zoe Michelle at Dreamingless (who is also a talented photographer) liked my work and my writing, so here is a little snippet of each project before they come out in their March and April issues respectively:

The Space Between

This first shot of Tia was taken without the following notions, but now I can see they were present in my subconscious thinking: The use of pure, white high key light to reflect a youthful, enthusiastic innocence I wanted to capture, and her looking up at us and drawing us in like a doe-eyed Jean Shrimpton-esque character, and the tousle-haired, black lipstick look that hints at (with a little subtlety) sex, but not in an overly gratuitous way.

However, this second shot shows a more real, unbiased view of Tia: Both have our eye contact, but with very different connotations, more relaxed and a picture of someone who loved being around her friends and laughing.

This is the Tia I know, and by having these friendships with the people I shoot, I can capture this, much more indicative of her personality than this shot, which is a construct of the male gaze.

I think it shines even brighter amidst the trash

With these shots, I jumped in head-first with an “everything and the kitchen sink” approach, influenced in particular by a quote from sitcom, Frasier. Upon Frasier Crane deciding he needed an orchestra for his radio station jingle, his brother Niles asks "Haven't you heard of less is more?" to which he responds "ah yes, but if less is more, just think how more more will be!"

When using a piece of equipment for the first time, I like to be as experimental as possible; to use everything at the very peak of its ability so I know what it's capable of, before dialling it down for the desired effect.

This time my intention was to take things that I usually gave a wide berth (saturated colours that blew out detail, melodramatic wind machines, cheap plastic gems etc.) and keep everything on “full”.

The title comes from an interview with Bono in Rolling Stone from 1992 (“There is a lot of soul - I think it shines even brighter amidst the trash and the junk”) in regards to their fantastic Zoo TV tour of that year, which eschewed the earnest B&W Joshua Tree image in favour of a widescreen colour makeover, in which they embraced all the contradictions of the rock world, and Bono’s new onstage persona became a leather and shades-clad lounge lizard, sans sincerity.

I didn’t want to manipulate the images afterwards, so another reason of turning the colour up as far as it would go is that I didn’t want to boost the saturation digitally after the fact, so the colours you see here are what the room looked like: I liked the idea that they looked so drenched in colour your hand would turn pink if you touched them.

These are images that won't be featured in the magazine features (but from the same projects, respectively) so keep a look out for the brilliant Dreamingless magazine!

 

Jennifer Lawrence in Vanity Fair - or "What The Serpent Said"

As a photographer, I find myself often thinking about pastiche and (in this case, referred to as) homage; what hasn’t already been done? Especially in the world of fashion and portraiture, where every “edgy” glossy advert owes a substantial debt to Guy Bourdin, and any portrait with a white high key background had better be taken by David Bailey otherwise you are almost certainly going to fall fowl of what John Szarkowski noted as (when talking about the early experimentation in colour photography in William Eggleston’s Guide) “their sad fate to remind us of something similar, but better”.

However, referencing something that has already happened gets you a foot in the door when trying to get attention, or put a persuasive message across. It can be used in the interests of power: if you’re referencing something that is already legendary, you’re already a step up.

On the back of the phone hacking scandal late last year, it’s hard to think of another public figure that had more coverage because of this hacking (which affected a fair few names of course) than Jennifer Lawrence, and the majority of the mainstream media seemed intent at taking her down a peg or two. She was an outspoken and rapidly rising star, and here was a scandal that in the right (or rather, wrong) hands, could finish her career for good. The fact that they were personal, naked self-portraits that were leaked in an act than Lawrence herself referred to as abuse was largely ignored, and the mention of her name now had the footnote “who was the main target of the recent hacking scandal”.

In a recent issue of Vanity Fair, it featured an in-depth interview about the incident, as well as an exclusive photo shoot with Patrick Demarchelier.

Any quotes from the interview hoping to set the record straight were lost in the flotsam and jetsam of Twitter trends; however one photograph in particular from the shoot stuck out and immediately swung the balance of power back in her favour, and referencing an already famous shot. Although her leaked photos were more explicit, they now seem obsolete in light of this.
 

Nastassja Kinski and the Serpent - Richard Avedon (1981)

It was an attempt to reclaim her position after the scandal, and show her in a position of power, and the simple and attention-grabbing visual message that she wasn’t against posing naked (or at least, implied), but that it should be on her terms. More implicit in the Avedon image are overtones of religion (specifically Christianity) with the "serpent" speaking in her ear. Lawrence uses the subtext of sin with an element of humour. It’s not necessarily an attempt at an original piece, but shows that not all homage is derivative or to be taken as a copy at face value.
  

Jennifer Lawrence - Patrick Demarchelier (2014)

So in this case, the homage is part of the narrative, something we can look back at in years to come to visually tell the story of how Lawrence responded with dignity, class; a check mate made as public as possible. This image has now become shorthand for the scandal, and how she regained control of her image.  

The MMG Judge & Jury Battle of the Bands - 11/5/12

The MMG Judge & Jury Battle of the Bands - 11/5/12

"5 years of work and about 20 years of hanging around" is how drummer Charlie Watts answered the question "what do the Rolling Stones mean to you?" in an interview in the mid 80's, which not only perfectly sums up the life of being in a band, but is also a quote that often pops into my head at gigs. Usually you're given a set time to arrive, which every time is a rush to get there on time and you must NOT turn up later, only to be told "you'll be playing in a couple of hours time, just chill out yeah guys?". Well, we had got to a point where as Liatris Trio we hadn't played live for over 6 months, and although in that time we had written some great new material, done some really good recordings (including our first foray into free improvisation) & taken part in the Slackwave gatherings, the elephant in the room was that we needed to play live again before it became too alien. I saw an advert for a 'Battle of the Bands' at the Judge & Jury, which I then entered us for & I think we were all happy about the prospect of playing live again.
I was very nervous for the week before the event for quite a few reasons. First and foremost, after the caustic atmosphere of our last visit to the Judge & Jury I certainly didn't want a repeat performance of that. Also, the type of crowd that would be showing up for the other bands playing that night we didn't think would be up for our dose of jazz. Now, we often have a free jazz pioneer-inspired "oh well, fuck 'em if they don't like us!" attitude, but sometimes a very cold (and possibly angry) reception is hard to ignore. After the ordeal of our last performance at Slackspace I wanted to make sure I was all practised up, and played for a couple of hours a day prior to, and as a band we rehearsed 2 days consecutively which definitely made us as ready as possible. We were given a strict 25 minute slot, and after running through our chosen material about 5 times, came to an average time of about 22 mins so we were alright there. I was still very nervous though, and we were told to be there for 7 o'clock sharp. Unfortunately me & Annie finished work at 5:30 so it was a mad rush to get home/shower/eat/sort out all the pedals/leads/make sure I was in tune, then get a taxi there. The Charlie Watts quote was ringing in my ears as we showed up just after 7:00 to be told we were playing at 9:25...
The 'background' music now being blared over the P.A was from the likes of Fall Out Boy, and a suspect amount of stretchers in ears, floppy fringes & the 'ironic' bopping to some blues covers by the band before us made me comment to Annie "this is either gonna go one of two ways, either they'll hate us and not get us at all...or they'll love us, ha!"
We made our way up on stage for our turn and started setting up. Annie was soundchecking her electronic pads and I put my "vibe sheet" next to my pedal, which was an A4 sheet of paper with STUERMER.HOLDSWORTH.FRIPP.SUMMERS.COLTRANE.MCLAUGHLIN.
DOLPHY.HOWE.GOODSALL crudely scrawled on it, which was designed to be there for the occasional scary moment mid-way through a solo when my mind goes completely blank, so I could glance down at that and, inspired by the first name I see, get back on track. We're given the go ahead and after awkwardly reminding the crowd about voting, we launch into "Red Baron". After about 2 notes I can hear that me & Phil are noticeably out of tune with each other to the point where I think we should stop to tune up, but we carry on regardless. The audience (in my mind mostly because of the tuning issue) seem a bit perplexed and we get to the false ending to a room of near silence...oh dear.
We come steaming back in and Phil starts blazing away in his solo before Annie starts playing a more groove-based drum beat with her sampled snare & bass drum sounds cutting through loud and clear. I start my solo and, while not one of my best, warmed me up and sounded good without any terrible mistakes (and from memory, a quick glance down at 'DOLPHY' threw in some more unconventional phrases). We finish with a big ending and get a good reception which bolsters my confidence a bit. One down, 3 to go.
Before we carry on, me and Phil tune to each other, with some notes about a tone out from each other which actually illicits laughter from the front row. It's all in good fun though and we laugh it off before I dedicate the next song, "Ménage a Trois Waltz", to "anyone who's ever lived with someone who turns out to be a pain in the arse, which I think we've all felt at one time or another". We get going and I'm now very confident and playing some pretty nifty licks, with the band never sounding better, or louder for that matter. My main concern in the beginning about our lack of 'proper' drummer was that we'd never have the punch of all the bands (jazz or otherwise) that I admire, but now Annie has settled into the role properly and for the first time we sound like a real band. That may seem a strange thing to 'only just' say after being in this trio incarnation for nearly a year, but now with the addition of the volume of her cymbals and the momentum of her kick drum (not to mention me & Phil playing better than ever) we sound a lot more confident and have finally got rid of the condescending "have you not got a drummer then?" questioning. We swing into the second part of "Ménage a Trois", the smack of the snare behind me & the bass pumping a bit harder than before, I get shredding before the crashing end into his solo...Performance-wise Phil often reminds me of a petrol leak; one small spark and all hell can break lose (in the best possible way), well in this case he started his solo which was great as usual, before the audience got behind him and started whooping and screaming, which at this point was like flicking a lit match onto my clumsy metaphor. Auto-wah switched on, it took a fantastically percussive and atonal dive which made Ornette Coleman seem like Kenny G by comparison. We finish to a roomful of applause and more whooping before launching into "a cross between the Sound of Music & Texas Chainsaw Massacre", "Two Suns". Marred only by Phil's bass becoming inaudible for a section, in which I mouthed "I can't hear you" at him, which he told me afterwards he misinterpreted as me hollering at him that he was playing something wrong!
We finish with "Moanin' Melon" which sounds pretty good, with my introductions of the band over a lounge jazz ride cymbal mid-song, which draws more cheering from the crowd. As we're pushing the 25 minute mark, we have to curb some of our natural instincts to jam and come to a triumphantly noisy climax, and as we get our bearings and pack away our endless leads and plugs, me & Phil both get instant praise and calls of "wow, that was brilliant man" while Annie gets told her electronic drum sounds were really unique and that they had never seen a band like us. A wave of general incredulity comes over me and not being quite able to believe just how well we had played, and how fantastically we were received by a crowd that I could safely say never owned an instrumental record, let alone a jazz one. These are the moments that make being in a band worth it, all the rehearsing, the practising alone so much until you're sick of hearing yourself play, and all the nerves about playing live, all of that is worth it.
We then treat ourselves to a well deserved (and in my case, well avoided before playing for once!) drink and discuss our personal favourite moments of the performance.
All the worrying about not playing live for so long and lack of confidence had gone out of the window, and although there was a few foibles with the sound (mainly me playing through a cranked up Marshall made me a bit too distorted at times and some of Phil's top end clarity was rounded off by the soundman), that was out of our hands and I actually really liked the fact we were playing what you could call challenging music, and we were playing LOUD. It only further cemented my opinion that trios can't be beat, and me & Annie got a taxi home smiling to ourselves with a text each from Phil saying simply "Tonight was great!"

My review of the Liatris Trio performance at the Judge & Jury battle of the bands, which was our greatest moment...so far!

"Home?: II" - 3/8/12

After forcing myself to write in America, I decided to carry on with writing in my filthy little journal, generally stream of what is going thru me head at that time...

Been back in England for 2 weeks now, Cavatina by John Williams is on the Hole in the Wall jukebox, its dreamy melancholic brilliance.
Should be meeting Carl soon, sipping from my first Strongbow.
My little finger on my left hand is smarting, now some drunk has run behind the bar turning up "this is the theme to The Deer Hunter", ruined, england.
Last weeks' Slackwave improvisation seemed a bit alien, as much as I enjoyed screaming thru my saxophone, cathartic, I didn't feel there.
This weeks' was much better, musically & spiritually. I played some classical guitar, there was a make-shift "drum kit", sounded more like tribal jazz when I got on it, gong drums, trashy sounding cymbals, dark.
One of the best moments was me playing guitar, settling on one note that felt right, with Chris on the kit, and the harmonica guy (must learn his name) on a bass drum full of marbles, building to a magnificent tumultuous crescendo when I was so overcome with the wave of pure music crashing over me I was nearly compelled to smash my beloved guitar. That's why my pinky is smartin', clanging strings.
It's the first 'pure music' I've been involved in since being back in England. I miss Phil & Tess, my creative foils, I.
I feel positively vibrated after that, maybe that's the reason for my strange sense of uneasyness in my home over the last 2 weeks, I've not had a rush, breaking out.
Being Creative.
Which reminds me, I'm looking forward to seeing the last of my American photos, which I've got developed for tomorrow.
Hot sun thru the window clashes cod-ironically with a bloody miserable Richard Ashcroft song on the jukebox.
Vibrate I'd Guitar Told Lied
Hold Thru The Kissed Kind
And Usually Will And Nobody Able
Killed Hoody I'd In The End With
A drunk man complimented my jacket, I miss America, Carl's here.

That end bit of words, the "Vibrate...With" thing, I turned the page and tried to make out the indentations of what had been pressed thru, I like it, although "Hold Thru The Kissed Kind" could be a Prince record...

Liatris Trio - "...A Making In The History" EP

Alright everyone?

Just a little blog entry here giving the low daaarn on the new Liatris Trio EP, a Jazz/Fusion group hailing from Colchester, going by the working title of "...A Making In The History" (by that I mean, the first thing I came up with while doing this actual blog you are now reading with your face)...

So, who's in the band now then?

On bass (mainly an electric upright) we have Phil Mill, on electronic percussion pads, cymbals and other metals and percussives is Annie Lipyeat, and myself on guitar (exclusively a Fender Stratocaster) and some keyboards here and there (controlled with a sustain pedal so I can leave notes hanging leaving my hands free to play guiatr) for atmospheric string drones and booming Moog Taurus bass pedal sounds.

So, what songs will be on it?

Well, there will be our version of the Billy Cobham fusion standard, "Red Baron" which we've added a few little twists to and slightly re-arranged.
The first song me & Phil wrote together which is a pleasant little ditty called "Gene Pool", our own greatly re-arranged version of 'Watermelon Man' by Herbie Hancock, which I then spliced in a snatch of "Moanin'" by Art Blakey, which we then developed, Phil added a walking bassline section to the middle and a free jazz ending, and eventually ended up calling the piece "Moanin' Melon".
Also on the EP will be a toe-tappin' number called "The Menage a Trois Waltz" which is stylistically quite similar to some of the heavier be-bop stuff, an evil sounding medley of ideas called "Brand E/Transition/Brandy" & our latest composition, a harmonic-based idea called "Mind Is Lost: Part II".

So, how and where will this EP be recorded?

We are recording it in Phil's garage on my Tascam digital 8-track recorder. We will be structuring the songs this time around to give the record a more honed feel, leaving the improvisational, sometimes wayward nature of the material for live performances, in which it works better. Of course, all the solos and things like that will still be improvised, we tried notating Phil's free jazz solo in "Moanin' Melon" with little success (*attempt at humour alert*).
There will be some use of effects (Boss, MXR, Korg etc.), but only to colour the sounds rather than pieces being based solely on the use of pedals. A bit of compression here, some chorus there, a dash of reverb, and then spending the rest of day mucking about with Annie's bag of percussives.

So, when can we expect to see and hear this release then?

At a school-educated guess, I think it'll probably take about a month to record all the tracks, mix and master. Annie's designing some cover art, I'm doing some photography for the inner sleeve and all three of us will be designing the layout, liner notes etc.
If all goes to plan, hopefully we will press the record on vinyl as well.

So there you have it, everything (and a lot more) you wanted to know about the upcoming Liatris Trio release...just don't mention drummers.

JoeEP.


Find Liatris Trio on Facebook, where there will be info on gig dates, events, videos, photography and the elusive live recordings.