Junior High

West Ham United v Fulham, Upton Park, East London, Sunday October 4 2009, 3pm.

Digest review due to time constraints.

Pre- and post-match entertainment involved a couple of pints either side of game at the Black Lion in Plaistow with Dave R and Basingstoke Paul. A problem with the membership card (a system issue, apparently) meant your exasperated egocentric had to queue at the box office to get a printed ticket, so Carlton Cole scored the West Ham opener on our entry to the stadium. If the home support was happy then, they were positively blowing bubbles when a big Fulham midfielder got sent off for apparently putting his hand into Scotty Parker's face.

Half-time mainly memorable for Stone Cold Steve Austin coming on the pitch to flog a DVD and fail to convince anyone really that he's a Hammer at heart. He went on about opening a can of whoop-ass and if that sounds stinky 'twas nothing to the opening ten minutes or so of the 2nd half when schoolboy errors by England internationals Matthew Upson and Robert Green gifted the visitors a 2-1 lead.

Thus followed a lot of huffing and puffing from the crowd, and more of the same from the actual team, although minus a lot of the passion and direction coming from the support. Dispiriting stuff, so by the time Junior Stanislas got his deflected equaliser it felt like a point gained and two snatched from relegation rivals rather than a couple of vital points squandered. Whether that feeling will remain come the end of the season, we shall see.

Parallax Premiership Ratings: Green 6; Faubert 5, Tomkins 6, Upson 5, Ilunga 5; Diamanti 6, Parker 6 (Behrami 6), Noble 6, Jiminez 5; COLE 7, Hines 5 (Stanislas 6).

Top Mark

Wolverhampton Wanderers v West Ham United, Saturday August 15 2009, 3pm.

If we recall correctly this is the very first time we've watched our beloved West Ham United play the first game of the season in the flesh. Amidst rumours of rogue homefan hooligans looking to 're-introduce' themselves to the Premiership, we met up with Dave R, Basingstoke Paul, Brighton Ben and Jerry at The Royal Oak, a friendly hostelry about a mile from the station, the other side of the ringroad, to sup Guinness and soak up the sun in the convivial surroundings of the spacious beer garden.

A brisk stroll to the stadium saw us just about get inside the ground for kick-off, with the home support providing huge roars of support every time the newly-promoted Wolves came anywhere near the Hammers' penalty area. A fairly open, even game then took a dramatic twist when Irons midfield tyro Mark Noble was given all the time in the world by a ponderous home defence to pick a vicious, swerving, long-range shot past the despairing arms of Wayne Hennessy into the net to open the scoring.

The early deafening volume of the home support was instantaneously muted by this setback, a seeming mood of resignation enveloping the ground as the Hammers were unlucky not to press home further the advantage before Half-Time. There was a renewed sense of purpose when the Second Half started, however, but England goalkeeper Robert Green provided a stunning salvo of saves to puncture the enthusiasm before it even started.

The game continued, feeling as comfortable for the boisterous away fans as a 1-0 advantage ever can be, Collison missed a near-open goal to raise anxiety levels a little but what tension existed evaporated when central defender Matthew Upson appeared to rise effortlessly over the Wolves defence to nod a second goal halfway through the second period. The home side continued to press but with dissipating conviction, while the pace of Hammers sub Junior Stanislas unsettled the black-and-gold rearguard during the closing stages of the match.

In summary, so far so good for West Ham, with Zola and Clarke continuing to wring out every ounce of team spirit and cohesion from limited resources and a backdrop of continuing financial unease. Wolves will be disappointed at how quickly their belief and purpose slipped away after a promising opening, and will need to be sharper in both penalty areas to accumulate the points they need to secure Premiership survival.

Parallax Premiership Ratings: GREEN 8; Faubert 7, Collins 6, Upson 7, Ilunga 6 (Spector 4); Collison 6, Parker 6, Noble 8; Dyer 6 (Stanislas 7); Jiminez 7, Cole 6. Frank Nouble came on late for Cole, with little chance to register a mark.

Parallax Premiership Predictions

1. MANCHESTER UNITED

2. Chelsea
3. Arsenal
4. Liverpool

5. Everton
6. Manchester City
7. Tottenham Hotspur
8. Aston Villa
9. Blackburn Rovers
10. West Ham United
11. Sunderland
12. Wigan Athletic
13. Fulham
14. Stoke City
15. Bolton Wanderers
16. Wolverhampton Wanderers
17. Birmingham City

18. Portsmouth
19. Hull City
20. Burnley

It's A Gas

Experimental Dental School/Even Atlas/Dream Dreams The Dreamer, It's Just Noise @The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Tuesday May 12 2009, 9pm.

An ominous start to the evening when on arrival at the venue there appeared to be no-one about other than the extremely pleasant girl on boffo duties. A quiet start, then, soon to be interrupted by Dream Dreams The Dreamer the new project by Matt Snowden (ex-Esquilax, Doom Patrol), that has developed into a 'sonic orchestra' specialising in experimental, droning post-rock of some portent. When it worked it was pretty terrific, but there was also a few longeurs where your chin-stroking correspondent didn't seem to be the only one shifting about a bit uncomfortably. And while we more than welcome the re-introduction of the trombone into the modern rock canon, we struggled to discern the point if it could rarely be heard above the squalling guitars?

Even Atlas represented something of a shift towards more conventional rock tropes, although with enough of a healthy whiff of pretension (not to mention some discernible Radiohead and Fugazi influences) to keep the serious-minded music fan from frothing in their pint at the hint of a tune. Was an interesting and enjoyable set, but perhaps a bit too eclectic for their own good in terms of a particular style or song really sticking in the mind on first listen. A work in progress, then, but worth keeping an eye on.

Capping these two local noiseniks were Portland, Oregon's Experimental Dental School here on touring duties to promote their second album 'Forest Field', which can be downloaded in total for free from their official site. This is probably a good a way as any of getting a grip on their sound, which is reassuringly difficult to define in these subgenre-heavy times, although their own LastFM blurb as 'really nerdy, dirty jazz punk' is probably as good a stab at it as we could muster, with bruising riffs and gentle noodling establishing an uneasy but eventually pleasing friction.

Something had to give sooner or later, though, and eventually it proved to be Jesse's bass string. He asked for any comedians to make themselves known (a dangerous call in Brum pubs, in our experience) to plug the gap, and right on cue a rogueish-looking gent lurched on stage who just happened to have reams of his own poetry stuffed in his back pocket. Things soon went went back from bard to verse, however, with bass string fixed and the experimental tooth doc tutors resuming their rumbling brilliance to a stirring conclusion. Leaving the only gripe from tonight that such a fine band and a well-drilled bill by It's Just Noise didn't tempt more second-citizens out on an otherwise humdrum Tuesday evening.

Tristan's Handy*

Aston Villa v West Ham United, Villa Park, Birmingham, Saturday April 18 2009, 3pm.

Dead Kenny's annual journey to the Villa Park away game often involves more hope than expectation, with a narrow defeat in a scrappy game the median outcome, so fortification was required beforehand in The Wellington, where met up with Dave R, Basingstoke Paul, Big Ray and a sizeable Hammers support contingent, and real ales were quaffed and musings made on a season that is turning out significantly better than it might have done.

Indeed, back in December when the sides last met in a match shown live on Setanta Sports, the Hammers were hovering perilously over the relegation trapdoor, lacking conviction under the unproven tutelage of rookie gaffer Zola, while a victorious Villa looked set fair for Champions League qualification at the expense of better fancied sides like Arsenal. Four months later and a consistent second half of the season has seen West Ham pull clear of relegation torment and have realistic aspirations of Europa Cup qualification, while just one point in six games has seen Villa fall away dramatically from the Champions League placings to be just two places ahead of the Irons before the game kicked off.

West Ham started the game in more positive fashion than is the norm for away encounters, with a lack of composure in the penalty area preventing youngster Junior Stanislas from converting good approach play into goals. Trouble was, we were also looking very vulnerable at the back, with Robert Green having to look sharp on several occasions, and the home side's second substantial goal attempt was converted by Emile Heskey following a sequence of clumsy defensive work from an unusually wobbly back four. Villa steadily gained in confidence and threat as the half wore on, prompting Zola to make an atypical early tactical change, taking off James Collins for Keiron Dyer to partner the industrious Mark Noble in midfield, with Lucas Neill moving back to his regular full-back slot, allowing the impressive Tomkins to move into central defence alongside England international Matthew Upson.

The second half remained relatively open, with the Hammers working hard and gaining a reasonable share of the ball only to find attacking moves petering out in the final third, the veteran strikeforce of Diego Tristan and David diMichele struggling to retain possession against a resolute Villa defence. Many Hammers fans were crying out for Zola to sort things out, but instead of taking off the hapless Tristan it was DiMichele and Stanislas who made way for youngsters Savio and Sears. The extra movement from the young lads seemed to unsettle the Villa rearguard and Hammers started to dominate proceedings until who else but the hitherto negligible Tristan's head steered Dyer's drive into the net for a just-about-deserved equaliser. From this point, West Ham looked the more likely to edge in front, although Villa had a penalty shout which was the far side of your correspondent's viewpoint so, to quote Mr Wenger, I deed not see it. Given that Villa beat us in December with the flukiest deflection in the history of the game ever, no-one should feel sorry for them.

Decent day's work for the Hammers then, given that of the six starting players in offensive positions only Noble could be considered a normal first choice, while for Villa, as the away support mercilessly chided, Champions League they *are* having a laugh. Looks like both sides will be limping towards the season climax, Hammers literally and Villa metaphorically.

Parallax Premiership Player Ratings: Green 7; Tomkins 7, Collins 5 (Dyer 5), Upson 6, Ilunga 5; Stanislas 6 (Savio 6), Neill 6, NOBLE 7, Boa Morte 6; Di Michele 6 (Sears 6), Tristan 5.

*with apologies to the gentleman author Tristam Shandy.

Buffalo Bill And The Indie'Uns

Midori Hirano/Gnu And The Shrew/Muarena Helena, Buffalo Bar, Windsor Terrace, Cardiff, Thursday April 2 2009, 8.30pm.

Your chaotic correspondent has been threatening to make a Loose night in Cardiff for some time, and finally got his act together to make this eclectic and engaging bill, albeit one artiste short with the disappointing absence of Lily Green with throat problems. When in Cardiff, use your Brains, so your ruddy-cheeked rogue sampled some of the brewery's ales in a few local taverns beforehand, the pick being the Reverend James as available in the best of the bars, The Cottage, on St. Mary's Street.

All this exhaustive research already had your stewedshrewd scribe in a jolly mood by the time he made it upstairs at the popular Buffalo Bar, further enhanced by seeing the lovely Liz Hunt from The School on the door, dispensing some Parma Violets and a free compilation CD as she ushered your timeous tinker into the venue to catch the opening moments of East London's Muarena Helena. They're a good introduction to the evening's entertainment, as they combine folk, classical and rock instrumentation but with enough added edge and strangeness to offer a frisson of curious menace to proceedings. Sample song title: Gangland Hand Gesture, so listen to your creaking consigliore when he says watch out for this lot.

Duo Gnu And The Shrew hail from Manchester, and come to Cardiff fresh from Marc Riley's seal of approval on his 6Music show. 'Look at the scary puppets!' points out Liz, as the pair not only deal with found sounds but also a fascinating, mottley collection of vintage/retro bric-a-brac including the afore-mentioned finger furniture. Singer Jennifer Kay has a rasping delivery which may prove an acquired taste, but for your intrigued interloper added to the sense of theatrical oddness that give their predominantly acoustic ditties a distinctive appeal. CD 'Time For Tea', on sale at the gig for a mere six quid, is definitely worth rummaging for, with 'Gasboard Fraud' and 'Bingo' standing out on first few listens.

Headliner Midori Harano is a petite Japanese solo musician whose made her home amidst the electronic scene in Berlin. She offers predominantly keyboard music which produces pretty, pastoral, hazy soundscapes but with enough beats and glitches to add some swooning movement to the ambient electronica. Midori had also arrived in Cardiff entirely free of entourage, which made me rather fancifully think of her like a William Gibson character, a tough cookie in vulnerable guise, trotting the globe with her particular brand of techno-alchemistry. The result was even more intoxicating than the Brains' beers.

In conclusion, a roaring success for Loose, with three apparently very different acts making some logical connections with each other, a friendly, civilised vibe permeating throughout and all the artists concerned proving approachable, even to your Brains-dead blogger's blether!

Next day, had another wander around Cardiff before heading home, getting an 'above-par' cappuccino in Starbucks, taking a walk up and down the impressively reconstructed Roman castle that is slap-bang in the city centre (the audioguide is voiced by the BBC's Huw Edwards) and sampling the Wheat Ale at the nearby Zero Degrees microbrewery that is located opposite from the Millenium Stadium. Don't think it'll be too long before your restless rascal will be gig-going in this neck of the woods again.

Gig Review Ketchup - Emote Icons

The Walkmen, Barfly, Birmingham, Wednesday February 18 2009, 9.30pm.
Popfest All-Dayer, The Macbeth, Hoxton Street, London, Saturday February 28 2009 4pm.
Future Islands, The Old Blue Last, Great Eastern Street, London, Sunday March 1 2009, 10pm.

Sometimes a great and memorable gig is all about the peripheral details - the company; the ambience; the chance encounters and the general craic. The Walkmen's gig at Barfly was not like that at all. A nightmare journey (packed train, only seat available saw your puce-faced peacemaker caught in a ruckus between a reeking drunk and two wannabe gangstas), a heaving crowd and under-resourced, apparently under-trained bar staff made for one of our less comfortable gigging experiences for some months. So it's good to report that The Walkmen were in good enough form to make you realise why you bother.

Their fondness for vintage musical equipment is well recorded, but it's Hamilton Leithauser's voice that's the truly distinctive instrument at their disposal. No-one can hold a roared note quite like the grizzled frontman, and the band play with the confidence of knowing their latest record (You&Me) has defied all expectations and proved every bit as essential and revelatory as their earlier triumphs. Hamilton's academical background clearly didn't include local British accents though, as his improvised Brummie micktake sounded like Dick Van Dyke at his most hackneyed. Though we'll concede 'One more song, then we'll skedaddle' was a great closing line.

The lead singer of Baltimore's Future Islands has a similar impassioned angst-ridden drawl as The Walkmen vocalist, but it's allied to a frothy synth-and-bass backdrop to create a surreal vibe like the musical equivalent of 'Twin Peaks'. At the end of a long, great day which included a football match, catching up with friends and attendant beers, maybe it was our tired, emotional state that left us seduced by their woozy late-night ruminations, but later inspection of 'Wave Like Home' reveals gems like 'Beach Foam' and 'Old Friend' would resonate vividly on even the gloomiest of evenings.

The previous day we'd been round the corner celebrating all things bright and shiny-eyed at the Popfest All-Dayer. This allowed us to reacquaint ourselves with Sweden's Liechtenstein, who have trimmed down to a three-piece since last year's Autumn Store gig and delightful singer Renee's gained a blonde rinse and a Mo-dettes t-shirt into the bargain. Electrelane's harmonies are pleasingly grafted to an early 80s bed-sit pop feel to diverting effect, we recommend you buy their new Everything's For Sale ep now and start salivating for the debut album due later this year.

The Scandinavian presence didn't end there, with Action Biker proving the other revelation on the night, a pretty young lady in a beautiful dress cooing conversational melodies to pre-recorded music that would have strong appeal to fans of Saint-Etienne. Suppose it could be glibly dismissed as 'laptop karaoke' but she had the presence and charm, not to mention voice and hooks, to coax something magical and entrancing from the simple set-up.

Elsewhere on the bill The Pete Green Corporate Juggernaut offered barbed topical popcult anthems in the mould of Half Man Half Biscuit; Town Bike delivered a lively but surprisingly melodic set that would appeal to fans of HMHB and Helen Love; The Loves brought a harder, druggier feel to proceedings with some driving rock songs and no popfest is complete without a spirited, entertaining set from the marvellous Smittens. Only Help Stamp Out Loneliness failed to ignite our passions, but this emptiness may have had more to do with our hunger at this point than the band's lacking - with no food on the premises even the most inimitable indiefans need refuelling and as hard as we tried, sustenance by Guinness alone didn't quite see us through to the end of the night.

Forward Marches!

You can't beat a bit of bull-y on a Sunday night, so your bovine blogger has decided to investigate the burgeoning indie-rock scene in nearby cattle town Hereford. Last time your carousing correspondent visited there we remember little other than a drab 0-0 draw between the home town and Telford United, and making cows eyes at a phenomenally-racked barmaid with a twin strikeforce that put the then-Conference outfits to shame. There's clearly something they've been putting in the water since, as guitar thrills are currently spreading like anthrax in an area hitherto best known musically for Mott the Hoople and the dead half of The Pretenders.

Our favourite new band name this week belongs to How To Dress For Cricket who deliver hard rock beamers and may yet have some wrong'un's up their sleeves. Even more promisingly, Pencil Toes manage the impressive feat of recalling Lush with their spiky, spidery soundscapes. Meanwhile, Bayonets offer a slightly less subtle form of attack with their post-rock bombast shown to best effect on the atmospheric 'The Battle Of Hand And Heart'.

Of course, no scene would be present and correct without an iconic club night and an all-girl jazz/techno/dutch supergroup who confess to more enthusiasm than talent. But the act with best chance of breaking Hereford into the mainstream moo-sic scene is cheeky acoustic-pop scamps Rupert and the Robbers whose 'Bad Hour' is set to steal hearts with its swoonsome strum lovely enough to give down time a good name.

Nothing lasts for heifer but Hereford certainly seems to be a happening scene in the here and now. Just don't be asking me Wye, Reg!

Dead Kenny's Behrami Army

To celebrate our beloved West Ham finally making their first major signing of the summer in Valon Behrami, a Kosovan-born Swiss international right back, whose crazy hair and tats should see him fit in well with our long history of 'eccentric' full-backs, Parallax View sees fit to empty our favourites folder for you to pick 'n' mix -

More reasons to be cheerful as Joe Lean And The Jing Jang Jong shelve their debut album. Seems like an 8/10 rating from the NME doesn't amount to a hill o'beans these days!

We've cut back our gig/festival-going in the last month or so, but some good folk have put the hours in during our absence -

Drowned In Sound review Supersonic 2008.

Ben SWSL's Glasto 2008 Diary.

Sweeping The Nation reviews Truck festival.

Last Bus Home reviews the Lovebox Weekender at Victoria Park.

Troubled Diva reviews White Denim at Nottingham Bodega.

In other news -

Rock drummers are top athletes.

Attachments' Amanda Ryan is to play Cathy in Birmingham Rep's upcoming Wuthering Heights adaptation.

Twenty Major's cure for another boring summer.

Scary Duck on passive-aggressive notes.

Lydongate? Johnny's Behaviour Rotten? Swells on the 'racist' rickus (via RussL)

Careless Genes shows us how to make home-made peanut butter.

Birmingham's Flapper and Firkin faces demolition. (via Pete Ashton)

NOT SAFE FOR WORK eye candy if you like the idea of a Japanese Cheryl Cole lookalike with F-cup depth to her personality - Suzuka Ishikawa (20): REMINDER: NOT WORK SAFE.

M.I.A. and Santogold Get It Up together.

Cat With A Theremin (via just about everybody, it seems).

And finally, we did get to a gig last night, review to follow shortly, but here as a taster is one of the bands, Red Pony Clock, and their silly promo for My New Best Friends. If you like what you see/hear, they'll be playing the Indietracks festival in Ripley, Derbyshire this weekend -

Tennessee Silly'uns

Everything we've ever heard before from The Hold Steady has left us feeling 'hmm...okay'. Until now, that is, with the release today of 'Sequestered in Memphis' (streamed in full on their MySpace page), which takes their Springsteen/Costello schtick and delivers it several levels up with a barnstorming chorus which we intend to roar loudly when we're drunk very often indeed.

More fist-pumping fun than a Nadal/Federer five-setter, then, but if you feel the need for intellectual justification for enjoying a choon, wordnerds can glory in the bands' purloining of 'sequestered' into the rock lexicon, stealing for themselves a Parallax View Single Of The Week, in the process.

Summer Night City

Richard Prince: Continuations @Serpentine Gallery, Hyde Park, London, Sunday June 29 2008, 11am.
Female Agents, Odeon Covent Garden, Sunday June 29 2008, 6.25pm.

Spent the first weekend in a while down in London, the first couple of days mainly taken with meeting up with and getting to know a certain voluptuous Brazilian online friend of mine, who, amongst other things, introduced me to the delights of pacoquinha, an intensely sweet hit of peanut taste textured somewhere between biscuit and fudge, good with tea or coffee as long as long as you have a sweet tooth!

Sunday represented an opportunity to soak up some culture, and went along to see the Richard Prince exhibition Continuations at the Serpentine Gallery in Hyde Park. Prince may be best known to alt.music fans for providing the striking sleeve art to Sonic Youth's Sonic Nurse, but, although there were a few of his nurse paintings included, as well as a drumhead autographed by Thurston, Kim and Lee from SY, the exhibition presented a broader overview of his work that spans over four decades.

Just as the nurse pictures are appropriated images from pulp novel covers subverted and fetishised by Prince, much of the rest of his work involves customising found objects such as car hoods, and in one stunning case, an entire Buick adorned with objectified images of naked women. Elsewhere, there are a series of photographs of cowboys and biker chicks, and Prince isn't even beyond appropriating other peoples' jokes, with stylised paintings featuring looped one-liner gags. The result is an impressive, arresting collection worth a half-hour's browse for anyone in London with an interest in modern art.

Then headed off on the District Line to Brick Lane, where visited Rough Trade East for the first time, renewed my taste for octopus, wine and chocolate dessert at a tapas festival and wandered into 93 Feet East where there was supposed to be an all-dayer happening, but found no punters to be seen or music to be heard!

A quick change at the hotel later and then into the West End to see Female Agents, which follows in the sly, saucy footsteps of Paul Verhoeven's Black Book by looking at the derring-do of undercover female resistance agents in World War Two. In this case, Sophie Marceau's crackshot recruits/conscripts some dodgy distaff divas into the SOE's female operative branch (known as, we shit ye not, FANY) to distract the Nazis in France long enough for them to help the escape of an Allied geologist doing important groundwork paving the way for D-Day.

It's fairly derivate stuff, suffering from some erratic levels of characterisation that means you don't always care as much during episodes of jeopardy as perhaps you ought, but it says much for the zip of the production and the committed performances from the game, gallic cast that, despite some obvious flaws, the resulting film manages to be thrilling and poignant for the most part, particularly recommended for filmgoers with equal levels of passion for wartime heroics and the female form.

Turned out to be a bad time of it for Germans all round, as got back to the pub beneath the hotel in time to watch the second half of the Euro2008 final in which Spain vanquished the 1996 champions 1-0 to become worthy winners of a surprisingly entertaining competition, a particularly welcome result given that many of the bar's patrons seemed to be Spanish or Portugese speakers.

School's Clout

The School/Flicklisten/The Puncture Repair Kit, Swiss Concrete @ The Bullingdon Arms, Oxford, Thursday June 19 2008, 8.45pm.

The Bullingdon Arms is a short taxi ride away from Oxford's main rail station, a smallish pub with friendly, fetching bar staff and a big backroom area where the bands play. Ben and your long-distance lurker meet up with a couple of the SWSLer's charming co-workers, and get waylaid watching Germany beat Portugal in the Euro2008 Q-F so only catch the last few songs from The Puncture Repair Kit. Their boisterous, slightly ramshackle take on indie-pop reminds your comparison-crazed correspondent of The Strange Death Of Liberal England, but we hope the rest of the set was less impressive because a) we hate to have missed out on anything and b) we'd just lurve to be able to say The Puncture Repair Kit flat-tyred to deceive.

Flicklisten is a guy who comes from Ohio but has lived in Oxford for four years, a singer/guitarist occasionally accompanied by a young lady who plays a violin shaped like a pair of scissors (a cut above the usual instrument, natch). He has a good voice, knows how to get a meaningful, sombre strum from his guitar, and has a droll line in tinder-dry banter, but his songs, on first listen anyway, are more interesting than truly memorable.

This last charge is certainly something you could never level at our learned friends The School, who've happily mastered the knack of catchy tunes addressing bold sentiments, embellished with 60s girl-pop stylings yet undertowed by savvy indie knowingness. They seem to be a Rosie and at least one Ryan short of the line-up when we last saw them, but Liz is in good, giggly form, describing Oxford as very pretty once you've found it, a reference to the maybe-Multimap-induced mayhem of their journey into the city. Of tonight's set, the songs from last week's Single Of The Week 'Let It Slip' ep prominently feature, there's a mystery cover version that no one gets, and the small matter of a dedication to their 'longest-travelling fan - Ken!' for their closing number 'All I Wanna Do'.

Your marathon-man mitherer hides his blushes for just long enough to grab a few words with Liz at the end of the show, as the band pack away their equipment in readiness for a trip to Spain for a festival performance. She insists the recent departures were amicable and not the result of a Mark E Smith-like hire-em-fire-em ethos, and reveals a new band member is forthcoming who will cover both instruments. Talking of covered instruments, we don't have to get our twelve-inch ruler out as Liz very kindly autographs our copy of the 'Let It Slip' ep before we wave her off to Spain. But not before she reveals an addition to The School timetable: a debut album due early next year!

Ship Shapes And Bristol Fashion

Dot-to-Dot Festival, Various venues in Bristol, Saturday May 24 2008 and Sunday May 25 2008, 2.45pm-11pm.

This is your erudite explorer's first time at Dot-to-Dot, and on only our second expedition to Brizzle itself, and special thanks are due to new city resident Alison for providing the hospitality, company, laptop access and orienteering skills as we traversed the city in search of indie-rock thrills. Bristol seems almost unfairly blessed with unusual venues, with things kicking off on a moored-boat-cum-nightclub Thekla, and other sites including a converted church (Trinity) and prison (the appropriately named Fiddlers), all adding to the sense of adventure and discovery.

All aboard the good ship Thekla, our first band of the fest were Telepathe (pronounced by the band as telepathy as if spoken in a foreign accent) who featured (running theme alert!) an androgynous lead singer who looked for all the world like a cabin boy until she opened her pipes. Technical difficulties bedevilled the New Yorkers' set, which had something of a shambolic air (the sexy drummer abandoned her instrument for most of the set), but somehow through it all, by combination of sullen cool and some beautiful, fascinating songs, they seem to just about get through it all with their allure intact.

Then caught a couple of songs by serious young men The Detachments, which was enough to make you walk the plank, so headed off to rockpub The Fleece where Dublin's Fight Like Apes turned Bristol into the Wild West for half-an-hour, striding across the bar counter and wrestling each other in the moshpit during a cathartic and hugely enjoyable set, with former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Jake Summers' the crazed centrepiece amongst their other harder, slightly grungier material. FLA also afforded us our first encounter with Bristol's most noteworthy superfan, a tall ginger bearded fellow called Geoff/Jeff whose propulsive stage-front duracell-dancing antics were a significant ongoing feature during festivities.

Downstairs at local roots venue The Louisiana, Sid Delicious were offering some skewed, off-beat thrills, while upstairs met back up with Alison to catch some of Eugene McGuinness' more traditional folk fayre, which should offer some appeal to fans of the Norwegian troubadour Sondre Lerche. Much more to our liking was Esser back over at Thekla, who looked tetchy and preoccupied during the soundcheck, but with his band got everybody dancing with jerky, infectious, and ever-so-slightly ridiculous pop music all set to create waves everywhere if there was any justice in this world.

We should have followed Geoff/Jeff's purposeful gait towards the Fiddlers, but instead got slightly lost and so despairingly missed Southampton's Thomas Tantrum performing former Parallax View Single Of The Week 'Shake It! Shake It!' (dispatching your most famous song early in the set seems to be another emerging trend) although what remained was nevertheless impressive, albeit more conventionally rockin' than their strop-pop SOTW. Top marks too to the very pretty lead singer for taking the time to publicly thank Geoff/Jeff for his sterling dancefloor exertions, and the dishing out of the free badges afterwards.

We elected to stay in Fiddlers to catch Micachu, who've been recording with Matthew Herbert and are starting to make a noise in London. They make heavy weather of the start of the set, the singer appearing to be in the 'attitude' stage of a day's drinking, and our attention wanders to the consideration of whether the drummer is a boy or girl (the former, if you're interested). Things do improve as the set goes on, and maybe in the studio with a disciplined producer their recorded output might be worth exploring.

Sunday morning was spent trawling MySpace to identify some bands worth catching, and the day eventually took us by surprise in terms of offering an even wider array of thrills, despite getting lost in one of Bristol's less salubrious spots in search of Trinity, where we saw a couple of uninspiring bands kick the day off amidst the anti-climax of Team Waterpolo pulling out. Much better was to follow, however, with Woodbridge's Cheeky Cheeky And The Nosebleeds proving a genuine revelation back at Fiddlers, despatching urgent (East-Angular?) guitar pop with energy, enthusiasm and that raw fearlessness you get from a band that's twigged they're on the cusp of something transformative. Daft name, then, but brilliant choons, particularly the marvellous anthem 'Slow Kids'.

This inspires your adrenaline-rushed arsehole to stuff in quick snatches of bands during an intense period of shuttling between venues and a strict three-songs-and-then-you're-gone policy which we only break for Red Light Company at Fleece, because they are excellent value, because 'With Lights Off' is a majestic classic, because the lead singer looks like an even skinnier Tom Petty, but also because by this stage we're knackered. Bonus points for the ecstatic group hug afterwards, too, which seemed genuine and this gang mentality will serve them well in the music industry travails that are sure to follow.

Around RLC we also found ourselves rattled by the rush of Pack AD's butch, bruising take on modern blues in Louisiana; impressed with the colossal high-energy post-rock guitar squalls of Leicester's Maybeshewill at Fleece; smiling like a silly-'un to the giddy 80's guilty pleasures of Cornwall's Rosie and the Goldbug at Thekla and left feeling slightly cold by moody Swedes Dag for Dag back again in Louisiana.

Things were then topped off in Thekla with The Mae Shi nearly stealing the whole weekend in a suitably scurvied piratical style, their jittery, attention-deficited noise-pop keeping everybody hugely entertained. We've heard of bands canvassing their fans before, but we've never seen it quite so literally demonstrated as when the band haul a sheet of tarpaulin over the moshpit and all dive inside under it, where they find themselves, amongst others, rubbing pneumatic shoulders with the omnipresent Geoff/Jeff. All in all, a wonderfully in-tents performance, then.

Cutting Pink With Knives have the opposite effect to The Mae Shi's inclusive gestures, in one of their last ever live performances, with frightened punters scampering away for safety as the lead singer took off his shirt and attempted to bully those at the bar into the moshpit. The music was slammin' and powerful in a kind of Beestung Lips-with-the-brakes-off intensity, and although we weren't really in the mood for it, it was kind of fascinating to watch as a piece of theatre, even though the search for anything remotely resembling a melody proved a fruitless task.

Then it was back to The Fleece for our last show of the festival: Metronomy, who seemed to be trying to be Klaxons so hard it hertz, wacky light circles emblazoned on their chests, and all. They were OK, to be fair, a reasonable soundtrack to the last few drinks of the weekend, but nothing to write home about in comparison to The Red Light Company, The Mae Shi, Fight Like Apes, Cheeky Cheeky And The Nosebleeds, Esser, Rosie and The Goldbug and Thomas Tantrum, who made up my magnificent seven from this delightfully dotty weekend.

Gotta Be Startin' Somethin'

The Ting Tings/Modernaire, Irish Centre, Birmingham, Tuesday May 20 2008, 8pm.

This is your curious correspondent's first venture into the Irish Centre, and our findings are mostly favourable. It's just about the only large gig venue in Brum where you can buy draught bitter (and a choice between two or three at that) and the bar staff seem reasonable in number and interested in disposition, another welcome change. There's also the novelty of a carpeted floor, but on the downside the bar side of the auditorium finds the view restricted by the speakers on the right side of the stage, meaning we only get to see two-thirds of support act Modernaire, whose lively and noisy brand of electro-rock seems short of memorable melody until set closer 'Bloodshed In The Woodshed'.

Since booking our ticket for this gig, The Ting Tings have only gorn and re-released 2007 Parallax View Single Of The Week 'That's Not My Name' and gone to Numero One in the real life pop charts, meaning a sell-out (officially, anyway...) gig and a triumphant mood in the air. Wasn't sure how their perky pop would fare in the live area but The Ting Tings soon reveal themselves to be natural performers, confidently getting in their stride with 'We Walk', giving 'Great DJ' an early spin and taking a gamble on 'Fruit Machine' giving them three hits in a row. The only halting moments are provided by ballad 'Traffic Light' which seems a bit pedestrian in comparison to the propulsive pop of the rest of the show.

Singer Katie White makes light of the full house and semi-restricted view by prancing for much of the time on the raised end of the stage where everyone has a decent view (why don't more pop stars take the trouble to do this most obvious of moves?). This allows everyone to share in the triumph of Numero Uno 'That's Not My Name', a strop-pop sensation with more hooks than a Peter Pan convention and one of the most completely satisfying tunes of the decade with its steady build of feelgood tropes spiralling into the giddiest of climaxes. Almost impossible to top, although a belting rendition of album title track 'We Started Nothing' has a damn good try, leaving the crowd to head home with a more pleasing than usual ringing in the ears.

How Soon Is Nou

Keef's Stag Weekend, Various Bars, Restaurants, Football Stadiums, Clubs, Barcelona, Spain, April 4-7 2008.

One of the reasons for a quiet time here on Parallax View earlier this month was that your esteemed entertainer's presence was required on Keef's stag weekend in Barcelona. It seems rude to visit a new city and not post about it, although as is the normal way with stag weekends, events tended to proceed in an in-the-moment blur of food, alcohol, casual tourism and lively behaviour that prohibits too much in the way of detailed recollection.

Overall, the experience of Barcelona was a positive one and it's somewhere your jaded journeyman would definitely consider visiting again. The weather helped, bright sunshine throughout accompanied by a pleasing breeze, temperatures of around 20 degrees celsius contrasting with sub-zero conditions and three inches of snow back home at the time. Aside from the weather, however, the visit was distinguished by some fantastic tapas (including octopus!); some fascinating Gaudi architecture; meeting some lovely young women (including a gorgeous Asian girl from Brighton and a lovely lass from near Aberdeen) and a trip to the Nou Camp.

The weekend co-incided with Barcelona's home game with Getafe, for which we managed to procure tickets. On collecting the tickets the team coach roared past, too fast to clock individuals that well, although the overall impression was that all the players looked freakin' miserable. The Nou Camp (or should it be Camp Nou?) is an impressive stadium to be sure, but the match itself was an anti-climax, Ronaldhino and Messi were out injured and Thierry Henry looked far off the sort of form he showed during his Highbury heyday. Certainly nothing contradicted the notion that we were witnessing the tail end of coach Frank Rijkaard's controversial tenure.

Getafe dominated possession and chances during a dismal first half, but things picked up after the break although the home side's more fluid passing failed to trouble the scoresheets and the game ended 0-0. It would have been good to witness (and join in) some local goal celebrations but it wasn't to be, and it was still a good feeling to watch a match in such a famous stadium, particularly a domestic game that, at that stage, still had a possible bearing on the final outcome of La Liga.

Still Smokin'

StrangeTime, The Rainbow, Digbeth, Birmingham, Friday March 14 2008, 9pm.

This is your bashful blogger's first venture into The Rainbow since staggering in for some much needed grub during the Supersonic Festival back in 2005. It's a longer walk from New Street than remembered, so just as well there's long-suffering Toon Army trouper Ben along for company during the hefty stride to the venue. It's a big sprawling pub that's had something of a makeover in the intervening three years, and the bands play in what clearly used to be a backyard with a new roof, with an adjoining can bar and an open-plan kitchen area where burgers and other hot sundries are being cooked.

It is, of course, not just the beef patties and onion strips sizzling once Kate Finch and StrangeTime arrive on stage in bold, if slightly belated, fashion. Technical issues with distortion pedals are brushed to one side as they launch into 'Profile' (aka their 'MySpace song' with the lines 'so you've guessed/I'm self-obsessed') from their new ep, and yet as technically impressive as some of their new songs are, it's one of their oldest tunes, 'Ex-Boyfriend', given an extra roar of feeling tonight that someone's ears must be burning (and we don't mean from the barbecue smoke, either) that seems to get the neutrals right behind them. Our normally reliable source, the good General Hubbub, advises us the band have won quite a few new friends tonight with no prisoners taken (including John's drumstick at one point) during a feisty, fiery set.

Ben and your hurrying hack then need to make a fairly hasty exit to Wok'n'Roll, a cosy, boutique Chinese restaurant with a karaoke adjunct, to say a boisterous bon voyage to Alison who's escaping her role as occasional gig-going companion to your socially-challenged so-and-so for a new life in Bristol. We hope the local shops have had advance warning to stock up on Haribo!

Now we know what you're thinking, it's all very well for Dead Kenny to go on hobnobbing hi-jinks in intimate, fashionable ethnic eateries, but what about the other bands on the StrangeTime bill that we've casually left in the lurch of potential internet obscurity? Luckily then for your unreliable uberpundit the good Baron has swooped into view to review the whole fandangle and ensure the completists aren't hard up for comprehensive content. Huzzah!

Deadly Sears

West Ham United vs Blackburn Rovers, Upton Park, East London, Saturday March 15 2008 3pm.

It's been a while since your Midlands-based mitherer has ventured to a home game for the Hammers, during which time his pre-match drinking buddies have found a new watering hole. Namely The Black Lion, which you can find by turning right outside Plaistow tube station and walking about 400-500 yards. This Plaistow public house doesn't contain anyone we could find by the name of Patricia, but does have an archway entrance; attractive, hard-working barmaids and a decent selection of real ales, including the always welcome Adnams' Broadside. Good to get an early result under the belt.

Manage to get into the ground just about on time for a change, to see the Hammers get off to a bright enough start, passing and moving with a reasonable amount of fluidity without much in the way of penetration. Scotty Parker goes on a good run but his final ball is poor and easily intercepted, resulting in a sweeping counter-attacking move that's despatched into the net by one-time Irons target Roque Santa Cruz. The home crowd tense themselves for another debacle (my beloved West Ham have lost three games 4-0 on the trot prior to today's game) but the players themselves seem to regain their spirit, shape and belief unusually quickly and the steadily churning pressure finally converts into an equaliser with Dean Ashton making Rovers' centre-back Samba look a bit gormless with a neat turn and finish past Brad Friedel.

Your cheerful correspondent amuses himself at half-time with a quick flick through the match programme, which contains some considered thoughts from gaffer Alan Curbishley, the revelation that American defender Jonathan Spector's nickname is 'Specs' (should've seen that one coming) and midfield kingpin Hayden Mullins confessing the one thing that really annoys him in life is Anton Ferdinand's face. Then it's a polite conversation with the trendy-looking geezer in the next seat and away we go with the Second Half, the Hammers continuing with most of the pressing, but with the visitors physical in defence and always looking threatening on the break.

The game is in danger of petering out when a clearly-not-yet-match-fit Scott Parker and an unusually ineffective Nolberto Solano are replaced by young local heroes Mark Noble and Freddie Sears. Eighteen-year-old Sears is making his debut, but his scorching form for the youths and reserves this season sees his introduction greeted with a huge roar of approval from the home support. Young legs and hungry hearts soon add a bit of zip to the game and the Upton Park faithful are soon rewarded when some more good work by Ashton guides the ball into the path of the onrushing Sears, whose initial shot is parried by Friedel only for the impressive youngster to follow through with a diving header that steers the ball into the net. Mayhem justifiably ensues with everyone seeming to feel they'd witnessed an iconic introduction to the first-team game of a real local find and former Hammers hero Geoff Hurst being shown on the screen joining in the celebrations.

The Hammers have to survive a few scares before the final whistle, a smart save from Robert Green and a woeful finish from Jason Roberts however means that the home side put a rapid halt to a potential mini-crisis and take all three points, just about deserved in a bright, breezy but largely unexceptional game that will be remembered mainly for the birth of a new Upton Park star. Freddie Sears may be short in physical stature, but his pace, persistence and presence-of-mind, if cultivated correctly by the coaching staff, gives him every chance of making a big name for himself in the professional game.

Parallax Player Ratings: Green 7; Neill 5, Ferdinand 7, Spector 6, McCartney 6; Solano 5 (Sears 8), Mullins 6, Parker 6 (Noble 7), Ljungberg 7; Ashton 7, Zamora 6. Pantsil came on for Ljungberg very late on, but too late to register a rating.

Songs To Learn And Sing

The School/Somebody's Mind/The Screenbeats, Oakford Social Club, Reading, Saturday March 1 2008, 8.30pm.

Your carousing correspondent has visited Oakford Social Club before, but this is the first time, in the company of Raimundo, that we've seen bands here. It's an unusual set-up, in that rather than playing in upstairs or downstairs areas, the groups play on a bandstand centre-pub with general drinking/eating areas either side. With this being a free gig, the benefits to the bands are that they have the incentive of drawing in passing punters who've just popped in for a pint.

You couldn't blame Newbury's The Screenbeats for wanting to partake in some alcoholic sustenance themselves, given the technical glitches that bedevil and foreshorten their set. Vocalist Faye has a fashionably big, bold voice which drives forward songs of a definite 60s-leaning sound and we certainly heard enough to make us want to re-investigate them at a happier time. Tilehill's Somebody's Mind also owe something of a debt to the 60s, but their psychedelic rock takes us on a much wilder ride, albeit with a sound sense of melody intact. Raimundo definitely approves.

Without wishing to sound like Teacher's Pet, however, we're only really here for The School, who, despite being a guitarist down due to transport snafus, chalk up another brief but successful showcase for their spangly pop gems. In contrast to their Autumn Store show last November, Liz is centre-stage where she should be, but also the whole band seem to be operating with an extra sheen of polish and confidence despite the unplanned axeman absence.

Although their songs have an undeniable 60s girl-group feel it's not just nostalgia that's at the heart of The School's appeal. Tracks like Summer's Here and All I Wanna Do have the delicious soft, sweet texture but added zing and sharpness of the perfect lemon mousse, with the robust quality of the songcraft providing the biscuit base, the structure that holds everything together and prevents what otherwise could be a gooey mess in less expert hands. Like the Oliver we are, we cry for more, but for now we must settle for this tantalising aperatif before we receive our just desserts of record releases and a full tour in the spring and summer. But we do get a quick chat with Liz herself, and co-organiser Dawn, who are as glamorous, friendly, and downright lovely as you could wish for, before the Newcastle Browns finally kick in for your tipsy tipster and hometime beckons.

Also, thanks to Painterman DJs for spinning the discs between bands, and Sam Dinsmore for taking some great gig photos.

Parallax View Gigs Of The Year 2007

What makes a great gig? The tunes, the chutzpah, the charisma, the company, or the ambience? Or maybe a combination of all those factors? But in 2007, many promoters hit upon a cunning ingredient: just let 'em eat cake...

1. BEESTUNG LIPS! @Supersonic, Custard Factory, Birmingham (July)
2. Rilo Kiley @Carling Academy 2, Birmingham (August)
3. Interpol @Carling Academy, Birmingham (August)
4. Los Campesinos!/Sky Larkin/Johnny Foreigner/Kate Goes @Barfly, Birmingham (March)
5. Mika Miko/No Age @Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham (June)
6. StrangeTime/Cellardoor/Sub Rosa @Actress & Bishop, Birmingham (October)
7. The Cribs @Carling Academy, Birmingham (October)
8. Monarch! @Supersonic, Custard Factory, Birmingham (July)
9. Emily Haines @Glee Club, Birmingham (June)
10. I'm From Barcelona @Carling Academy 2, Birmingham (September)
11. The School @Island Bar, Birmingham (November)
12. Kings Of Leon @Birmingham NIA (December)
13. Maps @Summer Sundae, Leicester (August)
14. The Fiery Furnaces @Barfly, Birmingham (November)
15. The Whip @Summer Sundae, Leicester (August)

Fierys Excel Live!

The Fiery Furnaces, Barfly, Birmingham, Friday November 9 2007, 9.15pm.

The last time your crocked correspondent saw The Fiery Furnaces his arm was in a sling in what was then a fashionable wrist fracture. Tonight the limbs are all cosily correct and present, and have the added company of Ben, Jenni, Alison and The Prykemeister, for a gig that's perhaps not been as hotly-anticipated as expected given the sparse attendance which gives the Barfly tonight a cold, cavernous feel.

So maybe there's a touch of sarcasm in singer Eleanor Friedberger's voice when she advises that this could be the best night of her life, though there seems genuine warmth when she invites the collected audience to get right close to the stage so she can see our smiles. Thus the thrill of a packed house is replaced by the sensation of implied intimacy, something that no doubt would appeal to the average Fiery Furnaces fan given their cultish allure.

Eleanor and brother/songwriter/keyboard player Matthew are accompanied by Jason Lohwenstein on guitars and Bob D'Amico on drums and between them they manage a phat and feisty groove that helps propel their perverse and skittish material into the live arena. Eleanor's vocals are a large part of the band's appeal on record even if that isn't always reflected in the production mix, but in the flesh she dominates attention from the word go. All fringe, nose and jaw she's physically a curious combo of Zelda, Ringo Starr and Patti Smith and yet so much more compellingly attractive than that hotch-potch collage might sound. If she's pissed at the turnout it doesn't show in a performance where she seems at once lost in the music and yet passionately embracing every opportunity to connect with the audience through her smiling eyes and bewitching enthusiasm.

The first half of the set is almost exclusively taken from this autumn's Widow City collection, arguably their most consistently pleasing effort since their barnstorming debut Gallowsbird's Bark. Album opener 'The Philadelphia Grand Jury' is also used here to get things going, slowly but surely weaving the listener into their weird and twisted world, while there's also strong showings from 'Navy Nurse', 'Right By Conquest' and 'Restorative Beer'. 'My Egyptian Grammar' puts the high into hieroglyphics, while even the curious omission of the keyboard motif can't put your home-loving hack off his favourite 'Japanese Slippers'. Further into the set there's room for a couple of tracks from the unfairly-neglected 'Rehearsing My Choir', 'Single Again' morphs in and out of 'Don't Dance Me Down' (or is it the other way around?) while a call for requests elicits perhaps their best-known song 'Tropical Iceland' to be extracted from 'Gallowsbird's Bark'.

After the show, Eleanor is in engaging form with the fans that hang by. The Prykemeister tells her she's going to be a big star one day and gets his photo taken with her like the prime schmoozer he is. This just leaves time for a quick pint in The Anchor before catching the train, a brief but memorable Eruption* courtesy of the buxom barmaid giving full and satisfying meaning to the term 'restorative beer'...

*calm down, dear reader, this is simply a guest real ale courtesy of the Salopian Brewery!

School Daze

The Loves/The School/Richard Burke, The Autumn Store @ Island Bar, Suffolk St., Birmingham, Saturday November 3 2007, 9pm.

Various sources advertise the start of tonight's show as 7, 8 or 9pm, so take middle for diddle and head straight to the venue for 8, only to find out have an hour to kill before the bands start. Your stymied scribe opts for a pint of Guinness downstairs and browses the kindly-supplied latest issue of Fused Magazine in one of the window seats to kill some time.

Curiosity finally gets the better of your inquisitive idiot as he heads upstairs about 8.40pm to see what's going on. This is a one-off venue for The Autumn Store nights, which are normally held at the nearby Sunflower Lounge, and it's perhaps best described as a smaller, airier version of Bar Academy with additional boutique trimmings of cake and balloons provided by the promoters giving it the feel of an inclusive private party.

Richard Burke gets things started with a solo acoustic set, although a little help from his friends is needed at various intervals. Richard needs some technical support here and there for the surprising number of glitches for an acoustic set, one of his mates steps in to supply between-song banter, while approximately half of the numbers are written by other people. What Richard does provide himself however is a charming singing voice and a distinctive guitar sound, so things still get off to a promising start.

Head Schoolma'am Liz also supplies keyboard and vox for The Loves, but tonight's jam in the sandwich provides substantial enough fare to be considered worthy of a main course in future. Wishing to sound pretentious your boastful blogger's been into The School since their early demos first appeared on MitherSpace, but it's reassuring to see them perform their pop nuggets in just as charming and beguiling manner as we'd anticipated.

How you react to them may depend on how you feel about the fact that what looks like a toy xylophone is the most prominent instrument stage-front. And yet no manner of self-effacing humour, twee stylings and humility can disguise the fact that Liz's songs are expertly crafted gems set to glisten for many Christmas Futures to come. You'd be mad fool to consider yourself too cool for The School who've recently signed to Elefant Records and look set to reveal their playground mysteries to the wider world come 2008.

The Loves are long enough in the tooth to have done Peel sessions in the past, and offer an artier, edgier indiepop sound with much more obvious rock attitude on display than the support acts. Sadly, however, your time-poor troublemaker has to miss a goodly portion of their set to dash for the last train home, so unfortunately it's a case of The Loves' labours lost upon me...

Nobby Style

Derby County 0 West Ham United 5, Pride Park, Derby, Saturday November 10 2007, 3pm.

The last time your sheltered scribe ventured into Derby he was but a young pup in the backseat of the family sedan while his parents had a row due to becoming quite seriously lost in the city's road system. Today am on safer ground hopefully with the rail station depositing your curious correspondent just a short distance away from The Brunswick Inn where meet up with Dave R, Big Ray and Brighton Ben and enjoy a couple of pints of Triple Hop which is brewed on the premises of this big, sprawling, quality boozer which appears to have become victim temporarily to a friendly Hammers fans takeover. It's then a quick fifteen minutes' stroll to the ground where we meet up with the lovely Jo, a friend of a friend of a friend of Dave's whose supplying me with a last-minute ticket following a dropout.

Jo, a telecom sales rep from Bedfordshire, seems to take having the company of a random blogging scamp in her stride as we take our seats for kick-off, and there's plenty of opportunity to get talking during a scrappy, edgy first twenty minutes or so with neither side distinguishing themselves in a period marked by the early departure of Hammers' left-back George McCartney through injury. Lucas Neill shuffles over to left-back to allow sub John Pantsil in at right-back, an introduction greeted with some excitement by Jo which one suspects isn't entirely down to his footballing ability. A free-kick from Nolberto 'Nobby' Solano bounces off the crossbar just before the half-hour but apart from that nothing much to report in a game that has 0-0 written all over it until Lee Bowyer pounces on a ball in the penalty area and slots it past ex-Irons keeper Stephen Bywater just before half-time.

As the second half starts Jo's feeling anxious about the scoreline, and tells me she wants at least two more. Your jaundiced journo keeps his doubts to himself at this stage, a wise move as West Ham step up a gear after half-time and Derby's abject failure to respond is pitiful. There's a couple of close calls with the front two pairing of Luis Boa Morte and Carlton Cole beginning to show confidence and understanding, yet it's a combination between Lee Bowyer and Matty Etherington resulting in the latter neatly dispatching the ball past Bywater into the net, that opens the floodgates.

The relief this cushion provides gives way to hilarity a few minutes later when a hapless County defender gets the ball caught under his feet on the line and only succeeds in tumbling it over to make it 3-0. Jo, being of the fairer sex, feels sorry for the Derby dunderhead but your guffawing guide is too busy laughing to feel similar sympathies. 'Same old West Ham, taking the piss' roar the crowd as our second-string midfield seem able to pass and move at will, Lee Bowyer helping himself to his second and the team's fourth with a piledriver finish to a clinical move. Nobby Solano caps a fine personal display full of wit and guile with an exquisitive free-kick that loops over the by-now-bemused Bywater into the net. Your tee-heeing tinker is now officially too busy giggling to report further on proceedings, but 5-0 remains the result at the end of the game.

It's difficult to see where Derby go from here but down back into the Championship. You get the sense from everyone at the club that they've pretty much accepted that this is the Premiership nightmare they must automatically endure as penance for last term's dream season. A shame, because Pride Park is a stunning stadium, the club has a fine tradition and there's clearly a sizeable fanbase here which should be sufficient to fuel a top-flight business enterprise. However, inadequate investment in playing staff in the summer seems inevitably to require at least one step back before they can again move forwards.

As for West Ham, 5-0 away victories in the Premiership are once-in-a-lifetime experiences so can feel fortunate as a part-time paying punter to witness a thrilling second-half display. While there's no doubt Derby are a poor side at this level, the size of the margin and the manner of the victory is heartening when you consider this was near enough our reserve midfield and fourth and fifth choice strikers playing. Matthew Upson looks increasingly imperious at the back while Solano and Boa Morte had their best games for the club since joining the East End outfit, so gaffer Alan Curbishley may be posed some interesting selection questions when the injured players hobble back into contention.

So, all in all, a thumping Hammers away victory, the pleasure of the company of a lovely young woman and the discovery of a great pub means that your philosophical penpusher at last has some happy memories to take away with him from Derby...

West Ham Parallax View Player Ratings: Green 6; Neill 7, Upson 8, Gabbidon 7, McCartney 5 (Pantsil 6); SOLANO 8, Spector 6, Bowyer 8 (Collins 6), Etherington 8; Boa Morte 7, Cole 7.

Ghouls Allowed

StrangeTime/Cellardoor/Sub Rosa, Actress and Bishop, Ludgate Hill, Birmingham, Saturday October 27 2007, 9pm.

Deep into the Jewellery Quarter and just off St Paul's Square, the upstairs venue at the Actress & Bishop is packed with people in various sorts of fancy dress for this hotly-anticipated three-act Hallowe'en show curated by those fine StrangeTime folk. Your discreet diarist decides against fancy dress as such, but dressed in black and with mad, staring eyes intact if fairly boggled, opts for the scary blogger guise that has served him so well over the years.

With Prykemeister and the lovely Bex also in attendance amongst an attractive, knowledgeable crowd, it's a decent turnout for Leicester's Sub Rosa's inaugural live show in the Second City. Bedecked in assorted blood-splattered gear that gives them the appearance of Re-Animator extras the lead singer is at pains to stress that they don't normally look like this. But when they summon a steady succession of blood-curdling riffs savage enough to waken the dead from an eternity of spiritual slumber maybe they protest too much. Very impressive stuff indeed.

There's something a bit different about Andrew from Cellar Door since last time our paths crossed, but your clueless correspondent can't quite put his finger on it. Ah yes, it'll be the wig, glasses, fake boobs and skirt, of course! But it's a quick change from Doubtfire to Surefire as the group's early pretty Mogwai-isms make way for something a little more fluid, woozy and dare we say it, funky, as comparisons to Tortoise and Krautrock become more apparent. The crowd are starting to sway, anyway, and it can't be the alcohol given the under-resourced bar. Andrew's clearly a man who knows how to catch the eye of the barman, however, as he cheerfully announces that he's so drunk he's forgotten the outro to their penultimate number.

Head downstairs in search of readier alcohol and emerge back upstairs to find have just missed the first song in StrangeTime's set. Guitarist/vocalist Kate Finch has her pageboy cut submerged underneath a Cleopatra wig that's fetching enough to tempt your lamebrained lothario to make a damn silly asp of himself, while bassist Chris and drummer John settle for a subtly blood-splattered look. But then the band once described as the scariest in the West Midlands clearly don't need to try too hard to terrify, particularly with songs like 'Personality Disorder' and new song 'Profile' sinister enough to psych out the most laid-back of listeners.

There's something slightly different about the band tonight - maybe it's the fancy dress liberating them from self-consciousness, the headline status at a packed show giving them greater self-esteem, or simply the confidence that comes from playing regularly and the burgeoning inter-band chemistry thus generated - but perhaps it's only appropriate that at a Hallowe'en ball StrangeTime have genuinely arrived.

Villa Filler

Aston Villa 1 West Ham 0, Villa Park, Birmingham, Saturday October 6 2007, 3pm.

It's a sign of the times that this fixture was the only 3pm kick-off on the Saturday of a weekend of Premiership football, and your busy blogger only just squeezed it into his schedule between beers with friends watching the first half of the England rugby game and the Maps gig at Carling Academy 2. Didn't feel optimistic about the outcome of the game right from the getgo, and was proved right with a second successive 1-0 reverse at Villa Park in a game that neither side could really argue they deserved to win.

Our group got to the ground a bit late so we missed West Ham's disallowed goal, but it would have been against the run of play in a first half which Villa edged with their sharper forward play. Danny Gabbidon made his first Premiership start of the season but was harshly adjudged to have given a foul just outside the penalty area and his misery was compounded when he deflected Craig Gardner's resulting setpiece beyond the despairing reach of keeper Robert Green.

The second half was busy and competitive with the Hammers dominating possession but neither side having much joy creating clear-cut chances. Mark Noble was rested on the bench today but Hayden Mullins and Lee Bowyer toiled to little effect in the middle of the park and in the absence of Dyer and Bellamy we're not in the position of luxury to leave out the one remaining player who can provide a creative spark, particularly on an afternoon where the wide players were undistinguished and our forwards lacked mobility (Dean Ashton, it transpires, was carrying yet another injury and will almost certainly miss the upcoming England games).

The major plus was the Hammers support, who again did the team proud with constant boisterousness that put the lifeless home crowd to shame. Nigel Reo-Coker came in for particularly harsh treatment against his old club following his troubled term at the Boleyn Ground last year - 'Paul Ince! You're just a small Paul Ince! You're just a small Paul Ince!' proving the refrain of choice in the away end. The fact the little twerp wound up on the winning side proved to be a real Reo-Choker in the end however.

West Ham United player ratings: Green 7; Neill 5, Gabbidon 6, Upson 6, McCartney 6; Ljungberg 5, Mullins 6, Bowyer 6, Etherington 5; Ashton 6, Camara 5 (Cole 5). Noble and Boa Morte came on as late subs for Mullins and Etherington but weren't on long enough to properly assess performance.

Spanish I's Are Smiling

I'm From Barcelona, Carling Academy 2, Birmingham, Monday September 10 2007.

Maybe it's 'cos it's Monday, maybe it's 'cos your mardy mitherer is a misanthropist at heart, or maybe it's 'cos your late-running linkdumper's tragi-comic lack of organisational skills sees the last conceivably viable train streaked with the scrapings of the skin of his teeth, but your jaded jobsworth has definitely felt more up for a gig than tonight, despite our lingering love for last year's long-player 'Let Me Introduce My Friends'.

Wander into the venue in time to catch the last few numbers from Jeremy Warmsley but sadly we haven't warmed to his wannabe-Wainwright warblings any more than when we caught his show at Summer Sundae last month. It's all very technically proficient but leaves us colder than a frigid igloo, so it's lucky the half-empty venue means at least we can get served our beer much quicker than normal.

This might have just as much to do with the fact that many attending are clearly better prepared for the I'm From Barcelona live experience than your clueless correspondent, because from the moment the supernaturally splendid Swedes burst into 'Treehouse' on stage, the barrage of balloons and confetti released in the Academy is best enjoyed as 'hands-free' entertainment. Even a lithe leopard like your supple scribe struggles not to spill his beverage while flicking a balloon up with one foot and punching it into the air with his fist in a dizzying display of dexterity doomed to descend into dampness.

No such squibs on stage with your unusually curmudgeonly correspondent eventually bullied into bonhomie by the band's good-natured banter and stout-hearted harmonies. Ginger-bearded singer Emanuel Lundgren bemoans the fact that the Birmingham crowd are balloon-murderers but a look around at the grins and bouncing limbs of the crowd and it's clear that the burst vessels are more to do with the Academy's low roof than any murderous intent amongst the mild-mannered massive. Lundgren dedicates 'Oversleeping' to the next morning's hangover, there's a mirthful mosh to instant anthem 'We're From Barcelona' and an impromptu kazoo orchestra corralled on stage for the contagious 'Chicken Pox', all making for a memorable evening from initially less-than-promising circumstances.

Maps Prove Useful

Part Two of a Set of Three reviews from the Summer Sundae Weekender 2007.

Summer Sundae Weekender, DeMontfort Halls And Gardens, Leicester, Saturday August 11 2007.

Meander back onto the site about lunchtime feeling a little dehydrated after the previous night's alcohol consumption, so crack open a thirst-quenching but credibility-crushing can of Tango in the belief that there's no-one around to see and tell. On turning around, however, immediately bump into Simon who talks intelligently about music while your hoarse hack tries to avert his gaze from my childish choice of soft drink.

Manage to chug it all down before Ray and Deb arrive on site, and we stroll off to see The Falling Leaves on the Indoor Stage, who have their moments, and recall The Kissaway Trial here and there, but in general are as familiar and slightly depressing as the season of autumn itself. Some sunshine is in order then (have we mentioned yet this is the best festival weather of the year so far?) to catch the first few songs of teenage prodigies Kitty Daisy and Lewis who play with (and indeed, in the style of) their parents. It's pastiche, but done with style and gusto, and in the light of Amy Winehouse's success, you can't argue there's not a market for this sort of thing. Even so, your wandering writer slopes off to see whether The Lea Shores have finally started their slot over on The Rising stage. They hadn't (a last-minute switch to the Indoor Stage on Sunday, we later learn) so console ourselves with the warblings of Jeremy Warmsley a personable young man in search of that singularly defining tune, whose new material betrays a vaguely alarming ambition to be the British Rufus Wainwright. Jez, leave it.

Grab some food at this point and bump into The Prykemeister, but can't hear a lot of what he's saying because Jazz Jamaica are proving to be the loudest band on the main stage we can ever remember. Turn it down, grandads, or the overflying pigeons will be history! Peek back into the Indoor Stage to see recently-reformed indie veterans Cud try manfully to cope with the absence of their lead singer on premature parental leave by seeking volunteers from the crowd to take turns to sing ditties like 'Rich and Strange'. Simon Cowell, if he was here, would no doubt call it a shambles, and maybe it is, but it's an entertaining one nonetheless which seems to help bond the watching crowd.

Enjoy a quick pint with Ray and Deb before wandering down near the front of the Main Stage where former Arab Strap-ling Malcolm Middleton has just started his set. At our first Summer Sundae two years ago, Malcolm was one of the big hits on the Indoor Stage and, with the usual sizeable Scottish contingent present, it's a deserved elevation to the Main Stage to help promote his third (rather good) album 'A Brighter Beat'. Middleton breaks off at one point to say 'I didn't realise I swore so much...fuckin 'ell!' before eventually revealing the title of the next track, the rather-sweet-actually 'Fuck It I Love You'. Post-rock tinged celtic folk never sounded so good!

Back up to the Rising Stage to catch latest Mancunian hopefuls The Whip here to represent the Nu Rave movement for Summer Sundae. Not entirely sure about Nu Rave over at Parallax View although the Klaxons cover of 'It's Not Over' may be the thing that tips us over the edge into its favour in a kind of indie kerplunk fashion. Early doors The Whip seem a bit drippy but a steady swirl of sauce soon permeates proceedings and by the tremendous last number it's the moment the Summer Sundae turned DayGlo. Later find out they've been tipped as the new New Order, if had been aware of this before seeing them would have been disappointed, but taken on their own terms they're one of the revelations of the weekend. Indeed, the drummer seems so pleased with the crowd response she apparently flashes the bassist in celebration - it's good to see a rhythm section getting on so well.

The two big choices of the night were Maps vs Wild Beasts and Sophie Ellis Bextor vs Low. Dead Kenny opts for the co-ordinated ones and (sorry, No.1 Low fan Ben) S-E-B. Had heard reports that Maps were struggling to recreate the excellent debut We Can Create in the live arena, but on the contrary this was one of the highlights of the weekend for PV, genuinely mesmerising stuff with Eloise and It Will Find You the most vivid highlights. Sophie Ellis-Bextor divides the crowd in terms of how much is pre-recorded or not, but nobody could deny her entertainment value, alternating between chic and gauche with amusing regularity, and she can still twitch her tush to devastating effect. Enough anyway, to district your starstruck scribe from the sight of Kitty and Daisy of Kitty, Daisy and Lewis sat directly to our right.

Watch the first few numbers from The Magic Numbers but once they've performed 'Forever Lost' we make a move towards the Indoor Stage to see !!!, meeting the gaze of Kitty and Daisy again as they sit on the steps looking on (later discover they join The Magic Numbers for some of their encores). !!! have the cocky fucker from OutHud (remember them?) as their lead singer and he's in typically extrovert form during a frenetic show during which many people seem to be enjoying themselves immensely, even if we're not sure how many of 'em will remember much about it in the morning.

Try to meet up again with Ray and Deb in the Cocktail Bar, where your
confused correspondent thinks he spies the DJ Trevor Nelson. The doppelganger mistakes my perusal for some other enquiry and sidles over to me and says 'everyone seems to be having a good time, brother, whaddaya reckon?'. Not sure whether he thought your harmless hack was after a fight, a fuck or a score, but time for an f. sharp exit, a timeous text message leading the way to a rendezvous at the indie disco in The Charlotte. A couple of hours of twisting and shouting to the latest indie faves later, your duracell dunderhead still hasn't had enough and heads for the hotel bar for a double whisky and to check the football highlights.

My dazed reverie is however interrupted by a familiar cackle. Who should be lounging in the hotel with friends but the esteemed Mancunian punk-poet John Cooper-Clarke! If seeing him once meant we'd done good, and seeing him twice meant we'd done very very bad, what does seeing him three times mean? On that inscrutable enigma, retire to bed.

to be continued...

Feeding Frenzy

In no way a method of prevaricating further before delivering our Summer Sundae Weekender review, and in no particular order, let the linkdumping commence -

Page2RSS.com will create an RSS feed for this site so Dead Kenny won't have to. It's not hard work, just put the URL in the box provided and they will let you know whenever PV is updated. (info kindly provided by Pete Ashton.)

LiveJournal Community for people to share photographs of Abandoned Places. Wonder if LiveJournal counts as an abandoned place itself these days?

Unedited transcript of interview between authors Toby Litt and JG Ballard.

Birmingham's Pub Toilet Halls Of Shame And Fame.

Cronenberg's Eastern Promises to open London Film Festival on October 17. (trailer can be viewed here.)

Former West Ham player Jeroen Boere dies aged 39.

Cold War Quiz. The world seems to fall around your ears if you anything wrong. Is that how it felt for JFK during the Cuban Missile Crisis?

Another quiz, this time asking How Manky Are You?.

Sheffield's Letters and Colours have seemingly been washed away in the rain.

And finally...Telford thieves think big. That's really a haul of shame (via Phill).

Why Make A Simpsons Movie? D'Ough!

The Simpsons Movie, Odeon Telford, Sunday August 19 2007, 8.15pm.

First off, let's make it clear your cool-on-cartoons correspondent is no Simpsons obsessive. Have laughed along to many a show, and would generally concur it's one of the landmark programmes of our era, but when pubtalk moves to matching gags to particular episodes your huffy hack will quickly look to shift it back to music, football or girls. Yet in what seems a weak summer season, The Simpsons Movie appeared to offer the most palatable blend of brainfood and pop(culture)corn on the multiplex menu.

Belly-laughs start early with an inspired Itchy and Scratchy toon that sets the tone for a satisfying stirfry of slapstick and subversion, although the laugh-o-meter settles down to a steady stream of chucklesome moments without quite ever spilling over into wet-your-pants hilarity. The storyline quite comfortably reaches the running time without feeling like an over-long episode but there's a softer centre to proceedings than usual and a slight tendency to sentimentality probably explained by the need to pander to a broader audience taste than normal.

Most disappointing, perhaps, is that the linear plotline doesn't allow for meatier subplots concerning the fantastic range of supporting characters that have built up over the series. Having typed that, the Simpson movie of my dreams, that would owe as much to Altman and Pynchon than Hanna and Barbera in its holistic and hilarious debunking of a corrupt age, would never get made, let alone released, despite the potential hinted at during some of the best episodes over the years. And so, we're left with the best Simpsons movie we could hope for that would also earn over 100 million bucks at the box office, a pretty good way to spend 90 minutes without ever approaching the greatness of landmark cinematic toons like Toy Story or The Incredibles.

The Seventh Annual Parallax View Premiership Predictions

Given that West Ham's Premiership status remained under at least perceived threat throughout much of the close season, we never quite got round to a review of last term's campaign. Perhaps in hindsight the least said the better, particularly last year's predictions which were atypically poor (Liverpool as champions, Reading bottom, anyone?) with only the no-brainer of Watford's relegation completely spot-on.

A lot of money has been spent in the close season, but we could be faced with a situation of 'the more things change, the more they stay the same'. Can Darren Bent and a whizkid full-back really see the Tottscum bridge a huge gap between them and the big four last season? Are there really revolutions going on at Newcastle, Villa, West Ham and Man City or will all four again flatter to deceive? So your far-seeing football pundit had a bit of a think about it and came up with this shake-up -


1. CHELSEA

2. Manchester United
3. Arsenal
4. Liverpool

5. Tottenham Hotspur
6. Everton
7. Portsmouth
8. Newcastle United
9. Blackburn Rovers
10. Aston Villa
11. Manchester City
12. West Ham United
13. Sunderland
14. Bolton Wanderers
15. Fulham
16. Middlesborough
17. Birmingham

18. Reading
19. Derby County
20. Wigan Athletic


Hmm...seems we've still got it in for Reading.

And You Will Know Them By The Trail Of Dead Kenny

The Kissaway Trail/Envy And Other Sins, The Buttermarket, Shrewsbury, Thursday July 12 2007.

We don't often get decent gigs down Shropshire way, so perhaps we shouldn't complain too much when things don't start off on time. But when the posters advertise 8pm doors, it's not unreasonable to ask questions when you turn up at 8.25pm to be told they're not ready yet and could you pop round the Britannia for 15mins while they set things up? Still, not being the complaining sort(!) your correspondent does indeed investigate said pub, settle down with a pint of Youngs's, and sample the best of the pub jukebox to while away the quarter-hour experiment -

Parallax Real-Life Jukebox, The Britannia, Shrewsbury, 12/07/07

Golden Skans - Klaxons
Country Girl - Primal Scream
Pacific State - 808 State
All Around The World - The Jam
Dakota - Stereophonics

Do the best of a bad job there, reckon, so duck and dive past postal workers drifting in off the picket line to wet their whistle and head back to The Buttermarket where the KT standstill is over, the doors are now open but the Caffreys casks are empty so Guinness it is. First band don't make it on stage until 9.10pm and your blackstuff-imbibing hack doesn't quite catch their name but they're from Birmingham, the lead singer is trying his best to sound like Ray LaMontagne, they have a cute cellist and that's about as much as can think of to say about them at this point.

Next up is another Brum-based band, Envy And Other Sins, a stylish quartet picking up a fair amount of momentum at the moment it seems, and the group members seem to have very distinct looks/personalities which may help them in the long run. They peddle a polite form of keyboard driven pop-rock, which while occasionally diverting, only really comes to life in the more rousing numbers that bookend the set. That said, they have the potential to be moulded into a chart-troubling post-emo pop act with the right guidance, and, after all, the green-eyed monster is never far away, n'est-ce pas?

By the time The Kissaway Trail find the route onstage your timetable-consulting scribe is already having concerns about making the last train home, but such anxieties are nearly immediately allayed by the impressively dark pop noise they create. Imagine Interpol and The Monkees exchanging secret sonic handshakes at a mountainside spa resort while The Wannadies tend the bar under the watchful gaze of Wayne Coyne as Maitre'D and you've at the very least taken a mazy meander inside Dead Kenny's imagination if not been given an exact aural interpretation of the wares on offer. If you require something less verbose it's bloody good stuff to bounce up and down to after a few pints of Guinness, with 'Smother+Hurt=Evil'; 'Tracy' and 'La La Song' amongst the standouts. XXX marks your hack's spot sufficiently that he doesn't buy the company as such (relatively old and greying compared to our last Salop gig) but instead resolves to purchase the band's self-titled debut with appropriate speed and elan.

Related link: The Prykemeister's 2005 impression of Moseley's Envy And Other Sins (need to scroll down a little).