Inbetweeners Movie review

This was the first time I've ever written about a film. Originally published here.

"Crude, lewd and unbelievably excruciating. Essentially one long, plot-less episode of pratfalls, scatological one-liners, relentless barrages of expletives and hapless attempts at achieving sexual identity, the same jokes repeated ad infinitum. But what did you expect? A deep, multifaceted, psychological thriller? No – what we have here is a big-screen adaptation which sticks entirely to its formulae. Think equally rude spin-off ‘In the Loop’ but as re-made by Borat for adolescents.

‘The Inbetweeners’’ greatest asset has always been its outstanding characterisation – and the film affirms this. Each of the socially inept protagonists – weedy Will (Simon Bird), blockheaded Neil (Blake Harrison), ungracious Simon (Joe Thomas) and wannabe ‘lad’ Jay (James Buckley) – is superb. Simple musings which reflect these characteristics often entertain: for example, Simon’s idea to visit the Minoan palaces and Neil’s retort that “You can see that shit anywhere”, or his later revelation that “G-O-D” is reversible. But it’s the visual gags which provoke the most laughter – be it their ‘Reservoir Dogs’-referencing swagger in Pussay Patrol T-shirts, the hilarious empty club dance routine or (the laughs of disgust at) Neil’s excrement in the bidet. The recurrent nudity is rather unnecessary, and it's a shame that the storyline’s a bit threadbare and the film frequently lulls.

Having just finished their A-levels, the four hit Crete, resembling “the world's shittest boyband”, as Will puts it. The exposition is thus: Simon has split up with his girlfriend Carly and he needs some cheering up. Neil just so happens to have chosen the same resort as said girl and the result is disastrous. There's no coherent plot thereafter, but the ‘hotel’ owner dangling a dead dog on their arrival is certainly portentous – they have a horrendous time. Things do start to look up as they get friendly with a group of girls and the end is remarkable, if conventional: they all find love. Laura Haddock's role as Alison, Will's polar opposite and eventual lover, and Lydia Bewley’s as Jane, Neil’s spitting image and lover, are particularly impressive.

It must be said Ben Palmer has done a pretty chipper job in transposing ‘The Inbetweeners’ from sitcom smash to blockbuster hit. The script, once again courtesy of Iain Morris and Damon Beasley, is sordid and infantile, but that's what drew most of us to ‘The Inbetweeners’ in the first place anyway. A satisfactory valediction to a satisfactory series."

See No Evil live review

One of the most surreal events I've attended. Originally published here.

"“Welcome to Bristol” reads Tats Cru’s convivial doodle above Café Central. The setting is an urban dream. Formerly drab apartment blocks show off their bizarre new depictions and the streets are festooned with deck chairs and fake grass. A whiff of sausage wafts down Nelson Street. Debenhams is only a few minutes away but all this is the perfect antithesis to last week’s riot. A sense of unity and community is prevalent. The jubilation is almost overwhelming.

Whilst DJ Die and Gus Pirelli bring their lively house-via-funky to the main stage, towering over a multitude of early dancers, Nick Walker’s gargantuan bowler hatted figure empties a tin of paint on top of us. It’s a rather distracting backdrop. Meanwhile, wander past Niels Meulman’s bewildering calligraffiti labyrinth and you discover MC Lil Rhys rapping with Youtube sensation Mr Woodnote outside The Galleries. Together they loop and intertwine beat boxing, suave sax, bleepy electronics and slick whiteboy wordplay with a strangely engrossing outcome.

A mix of UK funky and Beyoncé blares out of the Red Bull vehicle outside the Lanes whilst Shambarber plays electronica and does fine beverage vending business. Arguably the most striking of the installations, Aryz’s plump wolf clad in lumberjack shirt and braces looms high.

The crowd now scopes the whole stretch, and pioneering electro-funk maestro Greg Wilson storms an early headline set. His samples span everything old skool, from a throbbing ‘Another One Bites The Dust’ to an anthemic ‘Getting Away With It’. Bolstered with hypnotic bass loops, undulating piano slithers, ringing cowbells and thudding bass drums, they incite sing-alongs and put-your-hands-up moments aplenty. DJ Milo later rocks it. After-parties ensue. Welcome to Bristol, indeed."

Cave Singers live review

Presently experiencing work at Venue mag. This is my review of a Cave Singers gig. Originally published here.

"Every musician knows that you have to dress to match your sound — and as a hirsute chap in a baseball cap and his three bandmates attired in well-worn shirts come on, we all know that Bristol’s The Short Life Of Gracie are very well aware of this. Their music is the whimsical blind date where Conor Oberst’s drolly dark Americana falls for Belle & Sebastian’s quaint twee: an endearing reflection of their appearance. Underpinned by rolling bass-lines and overlaid with bittersweet Wave Pictures narratives, the natural chemistry between the two guitarists is evidenced by their cooing harmonies and playful riffage. The SLOG are one of two highly impressive preambles tonight.

The second — London-based Deer Park — manage to fill half the room with an enthusiastic crowd. Possessing a witty American croon, frontman Mark Grassick stirs the audience with his literate offhand rants which evoke The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn and Okkervil River’s Will Sheff at their deftest. Keyboardist Jo Shiel provides the saccharine vocal support whilst the contrasting Grassick croakily directs his band through a sprightly set of macabre folk-rock. The affecting ‘Something Here Is Fractured’ and the cacophonous ‘Waiting On A Change’ prove the standouts.

So far, so good, and with the main event looming the Fleece promptly approaches capacity. Excitement heightens as the three Cave Singers set up their gear. And so they start. The audience is rapt. Whether a result of the ineffable noise they make for a trio, the oddly soothing rasps of lead singer Pete Quirk or the genuine warmth which he exudes, we’re indubitably hooked and it’s impossible to stop listing reasons why. Derek Fudesco, ex-bassist in Pretty Girls Make Graves, present lead guitarist in the Singers, is seated in one of those anomalous Robert Fripp postures and manipulates his beaten axe all the while whipping his straggly black mop back and forth. He also controls a bass pedal which fills up their sound with thumping, nod-inducing loops. Intricate percussionist Marty Lund holds it all together, making use of a ludicrously diverse selection of maracas, bongos and washboards.

Most critics have rightly lauded the group’s unforeseen decision to unleash a heavier side on new LP ‘No Witch’. Indeed, the live incarnations of the raucous implicated definitely outshine the mellow rest. The pinnacle is latest single 'Black Leaf' which recalls Seasick Steve in its bluesy garage feel, whilst the similarly triumphant ‘No Prosecution If We Bail' provokes mass shimmying and the odd sing-along. Direct crowd interaction is frequent in the banter between numbers: Quirk cosies up to and amuses the Bristol audience through declaring his penchant for ‘pie minister’, as he calls it, and expounding on his idea of smoking frozen cider. We silently consider giving these eccentrics all the pies and booze they want in return for another performance like this."

Oh Land interview

Interviewed Oh Land for TIFDIY. Topics included nature and antibacterial handwash.

Teeth review

I wrote a couple of paras about Teeth's new EP here.