"And when we touch we are not really touching if our atoms did not repel one another we'd pass through each other like galaxies unscathed."
4.8.09
Temporary Revelation
"And when we touch we are not really touching if our atoms did not repel one another we'd pass through each other like galaxies unscathed."
3.8.09
Improve On An Example
Sometimes this place scares me beyond all rationalism, and even my brand new overpriced headphones cannot keep the world around me out of my head. Like some kind of sponge I suck up every impulse of my senses, then analyse and twist it around enough 'till I can only see its most monstruous face grinning at me. And yet never do I feel more distant from everything than at those moments.
I grew up with the love and caring only those flashy cartoons can give you at 5am on saturdaymorning. When I got older I started to look at my heroes and heroïnes one after the other, and I cannot explain in any way how deeply hurt I was and still am to witness their begging hands beneath their supermancostumes, as much victims of this unsatiable thirst as anyone. Meaninglessness doesn't cut as much as it sweeps away the solid ground you thought you were standing on.
But then there's always this little voice in the back of my head, and through the assaults of noise and whatnot on my senses it urges me to wait for what is real, however long it takes, whatever places it might bring us to. What else should we fucking do?
I grew up with the love and caring only those flashy cartoons can give you at 5am on saturdaymorning. When I got older I started to look at my heroes and heroïnes one after the other, and I cannot explain in any way how deeply hurt I was and still am to witness their begging hands beneath their supermancostumes, as much victims of this unsatiable thirst as anyone. Meaninglessness doesn't cut as much as it sweeps away the solid ground you thought you were standing on.
But then there's always this little voice in the back of my head, and through the assaults of noise and whatnot on my senses it urges me to wait for what is real, however long it takes, whatever places it might bring us to. What else should we fucking do?
12.7.09
Pose Hard, Show Your Scars
Cold World - Essen 11/07/09
After a weird and lonely night alone in a big empty house, since my parents had left for the weekend, taking Charlotte with them, i woke up way too late and had to hurry to be at Marijn's place in time. I rushed through the chores my mom had set out for me, jumped into the car and first went to pick up Silas. On arriving at Marijn's place in Ruiselede, his mother had prepared some really delicious cucumbersoup, so we were provided with all the energy one needs to handle the 3 hour trip (which eventually became 2 hours, thanks to M's "I try to stay under the 130 km/h mark"-driving skills). Our friend Gertjan completed the bunch, and off we were. Let me just say about the roadtrip that 2 hours is absolutely nothing when you have the Lonely Island songs to sing along too.
We arrived in Essen somewhere in the afternoon, so we had a couple of hours left to explore the city. Unfortunately, we quickly discovered that it might not be the most exciting place in Germany. Some of us got really siked over the big corporate
American chains there, but the most entertaining part was probably the coverband, playing Nickelback and Tina Turner songs (did you ever notice how 'Simply the Best' is written to be repeated over and over again?) for an audience that looked like it was still recording those songs from national radio onto cassettes (i don't mean this in a cool retro-hipster kind of way). We also had a little mini-quest for a special kind of chocolate that Marijn needed, but we failed, which bummed him out way more than he'd like to admit. Even the disco-wall in the trainstation couldn't cheer him up.
Elle came alone by train, 5 fucking hours to see a hardcore band. Try to explain to anyone not involved, they'll say your mad, but somehow for us those kind of things make sense, and don't even seem to be that much of a deal.
Arriving at the venue, there was some commotion, as some guy with a blood & honour tattoo and a toolkit was trying to provoke a fight. Pretty stupid if you ask me, since there were about 500 kids there, but no one ever said you had to be smart to be right-wing. In the end nothing bad happened, but apparantly the guy had drawn a knife somewhere, and it ended with 6 policemen entering his house to drink a cup of coffee.
The show itself. I wasn't really in the mood, i have to admit, but the first band of the evening that i enjoyed was True Colors, although i'm not a huge fan of their type of music. I love how the singer spreads his energy on stage, going completely crazy while remaining in touch with the audience and having zero rock 'n roll attitude (which can't really be said of every band that evening). He also dedicated a song to his daughter, which isn't that uncommon maybe, but it struck me as really sweet.
Other bands i saw were Dirty Money and Justice, and Cold World ofcourse. I'm suddenly becoming aware of the fact that i hate to write reviews about hardcoreshows. It's just really hard to explain without sounding like a retard or using the same expressions over and over again. Let's just say that Dirty Money and Cold World were really hard, and a lot of people got hurt and put pieces of paper in their noses to stop the bleeding, which looked kind of ridiculous. Oh, and there were a lot of girls in the pit. 'Only in Germany'.
The show in Essen also marked the starting point of the trip a friend of mine was going to make through Germany, hitchhiking and camping on his own for two weeks, endpoint being the Fluff Fest in the Czech Republic. As much as i admire his bravery, I really hope to meet him again there in good health and dying to share his stories with us, and i hope he finds at least a piece of whatever he's looking for in those two weeks on his own.
After a weird and lonely night alone in a big empty house, since my parents had left for the weekend, taking Charlotte with them, i woke up way too late and had to hurry to be at Marijn's place in time. I rushed through the chores my mom had set out for me, jumped into the car and first went to pick up Silas. On arriving at Marijn's place in Ruiselede, his mother had prepared some really delicious cucumbersoup, so we were provided with all the energy one needs to handle the 3 hour trip (which eventually became 2 hours, thanks to M's "I try to stay under the 130 km/h mark"-driving skills). Our friend Gertjan completed the bunch, and off we were. Let me just say about the roadtrip that 2 hours is absolutely nothing when you have the Lonely Island songs to sing along too.
We arrived in Essen somewhere in the afternoon, so we had a couple of hours left to explore the city. Unfortunately, we quickly discovered that it might not be the most exciting place in Germany. Some of us got really siked over the big corporate
American chains there, but the most entertaining part was probably the coverband, playing Nickelback and Tina Turner songs (did you ever notice how 'Simply the Best' is written to be repeated over and over again?) for an audience that looked like it was still recording those songs from national radio onto cassettes (i don't mean this in a cool retro-hipster kind of way). We also had a little mini-quest for a special kind of chocolate that Marijn needed, but we failed, which bummed him out way more than he'd like to admit. Even the disco-wall in the trainstation couldn't cheer him up.Elle came alone by train, 5 fucking hours to see a hardcore band. Try to explain to anyone not involved, they'll say your mad, but somehow for us those kind of things make sense, and don't even seem to be that much of a deal.
Arriving at the venue, there was some commotion, as some guy with a blood & honour tattoo and a toolkit was trying to provoke a fight. Pretty stupid if you ask me, since there were about 500 kids there, but no one ever said you had to be smart to be right-wing. In the end nothing bad happened, but apparantly the guy had drawn a knife somewhere, and it ended with 6 policemen entering his house to drink a cup of coffee.
The show itself. I wasn't really in the mood, i have to admit, but the first band of the evening that i enjoyed was True Colors, although i'm not a huge fan of their type of music. I love how the singer spreads his energy on stage, going completely crazy while remaining in touch with the audience and having zero rock 'n roll attitude (which can't really be said of every band that evening). He also dedicated a song to his daughter, which isn't that uncommon maybe, but it struck me as really sweet.
Other bands i saw were Dirty Money and Justice, and Cold World ofcourse. I'm suddenly becoming aware of the fact that i hate to write reviews about hardcoreshows. It's just really hard to explain without sounding like a retard or using the same expressions over and over again. Let's just say that Dirty Money and Cold World were really hard, and a lot of people got hurt and put pieces of paper in their noses to stop the bleeding, which looked kind of ridiculous. Oh, and there were a lot of girls in the pit. 'Only in Germany'.
The show in Essen also marked the starting point of the trip a friend of mine was going to make through Germany, hitchhiking and camping on his own for two weeks, endpoint being the Fluff Fest in the Czech Republic. As much as i admire his bravery, I really hope to meet him again there in good health and dying to share his stories with us, and i hope he finds at least a piece of whatever he's looking for in those two weeks on his own.
5.7.09
Travel light
If you think about it, many of the things that make you feel miserable in your daily life are a direct result of some deeply rooted inertia, a lack of energy combined with fear of falling out of the blue open sky in midflight, while also being completely conscious about everything you're missing out on: the feeling of accomplishment after a reckless adventure, the mental or physical touch of a stranger that strikes you with such warmth that you feel it for weeks, months, lifetimes to come, the memory of a warmth that has abandonned you, and you're not sure if you'll be able to ever relive it. It's like hearing the rythm of your favourite poem in your head, but forgetting the words and the meaning in time. Everything fades into a blur, and you see yourself in the centre with a million eyes fixed on you, filled with expectations, their image of you nothing but that: an image, a shallow 2D representation reality, with no regard to how you move, how you sound, what goes on inside and brings you to your everyday expressions. How easy it is to forget oneself when turned into the object of their gaze.
It's never easy to stop the train of thoughts, especially when it's derailed and seems to be going nowhere, an aimless projectile, bound to hit something really hard, really soon. Sometimes it just takes a beautiful day and a genuine smile, encounters with people that move you, inspire you and make the future seem worthwhile. Change is something that grows from the inside out, sinks into everything that surrounds you and makes sure that nothing ever looks the same.
It's summer and I want to live in this forever.
I want to conclude this little rant with some words that I stole from the site of a French screamoband called Baron Noir. It has everything and nothing to do with what's written above, but it somehow seemed appropriate. Either way, I never came across a better description of what this type of music and community means to me.
Conscients que la musique ne pourra jamais suffire à changer quoi que ce soit, c'est pourtant elle qui nous permet quotidiennement de cracher ce qu'on est obliger de retenir, la rage intime qui nous constitue plus que ce que le monde nous impose. C'est à cette rage qu'on reconnaît les nôtres et c'est sur elle que se fondent nos rencontres. On la braille dans un micro pour toucher ceux et celles qui s'y reconnaissent et se renforcer mutuellement. Parce que les seuls espaces de liberté possibles sont ceux qu'on prend, vole ou crée. ça ne va pas plus loin que ça. baise les artistes.
13.6.09
Basically we're fighting for the same cause..
There's a new issue of Kino available. I have to admit that my part in this project seems to diminish with every issue, but for this one I mostly blame the fact that it kind of revolves around Silas' mild obsession with Japanese culture. The guy spent a month in Tokyo with a girl he barely knew, putting most of us couch-adventurers to shame by pure guts. Anyways, the result is nothing less than awesome I think, with a trip report, the usual socialy-aware columns, interviews (Heaven In Her Arms, Birth, Envy and the not so Japanese-like Zann) and a couple of reviews (some of which I actually wrote!). If you're interested, please pick one up: Kinozine
Also, pick up one of these if you have the chance. There's an awesome article about monsters in it. Plus some other elitist-hardcore (or not so) rambling. Tales Of Shatou
12.6.09
Anne
"From the window in that room, facing out the backyard, you can see the rear windows of a house where Descartes once lived. There are children's swings in the yard now, toys scattered in the grass, pretty little flowers. As he looked out the window that day, he wondered if the children those toys belonged to had any idea of what happened fifty years earlier in the spot where he was standing. And if they did, what would it be like to grow up in the shadow of her room?
To repeat Pascal: "All the unhappiness of man stems from one thing only: that he is incapable of staying quietly in his room." At roughly the same time these words entered the Pensées, Descartes wrote to a friend in France from his room in that house in Amsterdam: "Is there any country," he asked with exuberance, "in which one can enjoy freedom as enormously as one does here?" Everything, in some sense, can be read as a gloss on everything else. To imagine her, for example, had she lived on after the war, reading Descartes' Meditations as a university student in Amsterdam. To imagine a solitude so crushing, so unconsolable, that one stops breathing for hundreds of years.
Paul Auster: Collected Prose
To repeat Pascal: "All the unhappiness of man stems from one thing only: that he is incapable of staying quietly in his room." At roughly the same time these words entered the Pensées, Descartes wrote to a friend in France from his room in that house in Amsterdam: "Is there any country," he asked with exuberance, "in which one can enjoy freedom as enormously as one does here?" Everything, in some sense, can be read as a gloss on everything else. To imagine her, for example, had she lived on after the war, reading Descartes' Meditations as a university student in Amsterdam. To imagine a solitude so crushing, so unconsolable, that one stops breathing for hundreds of years.
Paul Auster: Collected Prose
18.5.09
This Is Real
Fundamental - Demo 2009
If you would've asked me six months ago what I thought about this band of youngster from my local area, I probably would've given you some cocky answer about how 'some kids just try too hard', and how they would probably end up playing the local youthclub for the rest of their carreer. In spite of what I aim for, I can be awefully prejudiced at times. Let's say that I did not really like the idea of another Black Haven/Rise And Fall-ish band emerging in the scene, plus some personal stuff that kind of got in the way of a good understanding. I'm mentioning this because I want to make clear on which foot I started to follow Fundamental, which was obviously the wrong one.
Only a couple of weeks before their first show (and a rather bad rehearsalsong they put on their myspace page), Levy (the singer) asked me if I was interested in playing bass for them. I was completely taken by surprise, and because of my reservedness towards the band and something concerning former lovers, it never happened, but the result was that by talking to this guy I was forced to acknowledge that he wasn't half as clueless as I thought he would be. Anyway, my curiosity was triggered and I decided to attend one of their shows in a local club. Plagued by the growing pains of starting band, they nevertheless managed to leave a lasting impression on me through their unrestrained enthousiasm and the apparent seriousness with which they were approaching the whole thing. You could tell that they meant it.
Several months later, Fundamental finally released their first demo recording, which finally brings me to the point of this 'review'. Where Rise And Fall needed an entire song to condemn all the liars and fakers to oblivion, these kids manage to do it in a one and a halfminute intro. A simple, but horribly effective stroke of the bass builds the tension, until the rest of the band comes in, leaving just enough breathingspace for the singer to scream "this is real!" from the top of his lungs. Three words and nothing remains to be said. 'Valor' is the first real song. Simplicity and effectiveness, spiced up with some really cool ideas, remain the keywords throughout. For kids as young and unexperienced as they are, they manage to avoid a lot of pitfalls that are fatal to most starting bands by sticking to the magic formula of putting only a couple of good ideas in one song and not stacking up one mediocre and too far-fetched riff upon another. 'Whole' is more melodic and straightforward in its approach, almost catchy. The song never manages to achieve its goal (whatever that should be) but it gets really damn close. Final track 'Ill-Fated' starts of with a bassriff that makes me want to punch myself because I didn't come up with it. Only thing I don't really like here is the 'dun dun'-stuff in the verse, but that's just me. The ending is as epic as you would expect it to be (nice, slow burning riff, topped off with passionate and almost heartfellt screaming, you know how it rolls).
You can tell these guys have not just been worshipping their influences imagining how cool they would look like on stage playing this kind of music, but they have obviously been listening carefully and that is giving them a headstart towards competition. En plus, they are the prototype of a real hardcoreband: not pretending to be groundbreaking, but taking what they know and doing what they can to give that anger and frustration inside a voice and a let-out. And most importantly, despite some minor flaws, pulling it off. One can only hope they won't be the next band in line to call it quits before ever having the chance to come into its own, because if this recording figures as a herald for things to come, chances are they still have a lot more in store.
Myspace
thanks to whoever took the picture
If you would've asked me six months ago what I thought about this band of youngster from my local area, I probably would've given you some cocky answer about how 'some kids just try too hard', and how they would probably end up playing the local youthclub for the rest of their carreer. In spite of what I aim for, I can be awefully prejudiced at times. Let's say that I did not really like the idea of another Black Haven/Rise And Fall-ish band emerging in the scene, plus some personal stuff that kind of got in the way of a good understanding. I'm mentioning this because I want to make clear on which foot I started to follow Fundamental, which was obviously the wrong one.
Only a couple of weeks before their first show (and a rather bad rehearsalsong they put on their myspace page), Levy (the singer) asked me if I was interested in playing bass for them. I was completely taken by surprise, and because of my reservedness towards the band and something concerning former lovers, it never happened, but the result was that by talking to this guy I was forced to acknowledge that he wasn't half as clueless as I thought he would be. Anyway, my curiosity was triggered and I decided to attend one of their shows in a local club. Plagued by the growing pains of starting band, they nevertheless managed to leave a lasting impression on me through their unrestrained enthousiasm and the apparent seriousness with which they were approaching the whole thing. You could tell that they meant it.Several months later, Fundamental finally released their first demo recording, which finally brings me to the point of this 'review'. Where Rise And Fall needed an entire song to condemn all the liars and fakers to oblivion, these kids manage to do it in a one and a halfminute intro. A simple, but horribly effective stroke of the bass builds the tension, until the rest of the band comes in, leaving just enough breathingspace for the singer to scream "this is real!" from the top of his lungs. Three words and nothing remains to be said. 'Valor' is the first real song. Simplicity and effectiveness, spiced up with some really cool ideas, remain the keywords throughout. For kids as young and unexperienced as they are, they manage to avoid a lot of pitfalls that are fatal to most starting bands by sticking to the magic formula of putting only a couple of good ideas in one song and not stacking up one mediocre and too far-fetched riff upon another. 'Whole' is more melodic and straightforward in its approach, almost catchy. The song never manages to achieve its goal (whatever that should be) but it gets really damn close. Final track 'Ill-Fated' starts of with a bassriff that makes me want to punch myself because I didn't come up with it. Only thing I don't really like here is the 'dun dun'-stuff in the verse, but that's just me. The ending is as epic as you would expect it to be (nice, slow burning riff, topped off with passionate and almost heartfellt screaming, you know how it rolls).
You can tell these guys have not just been worshipping their influences imagining how cool they would look like on stage playing this kind of music, but they have obviously been listening carefully and that is giving them a headstart towards competition. En plus, they are the prototype of a real hardcoreband: not pretending to be groundbreaking, but taking what they know and doing what they can to give that anger and frustration inside a voice and a let-out. And most importantly, despite some minor flaws, pulling it off. One can only hope they won't be the next band in line to call it quits before ever having the chance to come into its own, because if this recording figures as a herald for things to come, chances are they still have a lot more in store.
Myspace
thanks to whoever took the picture
24.3.09
Today Is Green And Tomorrow Is Blue
Last night I went to the Glasses show in Ghent. I had arranged to do a short interview with them for the ultimate hipstermagazine in the Western world, so we met in some kind of souplounge no too far from the venue a couple of hours before the show. Since the band arrived way to early there was plenty of time for some silly pictures and sillier questions.
It's always a gamble when you really like a band and then you have to interview them. You really don't want them to turn out to be assholes, since it would get all that good music tainted. On the other hand, it's always nice to meet the people behind music that touched you in any way. Luckily, these guys and girl were among the nicest people out of Germany I ever met. The interview went smooth and afterwards we went together to the best place in Belgium to eat French fries, De Frietketel. They played a memorable floorshow (you have to love the spirit behind that) at the Frontline too that night. Check out the next issue of vice-magazine for the interview.
Glasses myspace
It's always a gamble when you really like a band and then you have to interview them. You really don't want them to turn out to be assholes, since it would get all that good music tainted. On the other hand, it's always nice to meet the people behind music that touched you in any way. Luckily, these guys and girl were among the nicest people out of Germany I ever met. The interview went smooth and afterwards we went together to the best place in Belgium to eat French fries, De Frietketel. They played a memorable floorshow (you have to love the spirit behind that) at the Frontline too that night. Check out the next issue of vice-magazine for the interview.
Glasses myspace
11.3.09
The Body Writhes and Twists
A TAAS appreesh-post
I don't really get how they do it. I hate all the ingrediënts - an overload on keyboardtunes, anachronical 70ies vibes, spastic nonsense and stupid long songtitels about trains, drugs, chickens and whatnot - yet the final recipe manages to send shivers down my spine over and over again. Take for example the part in 'Mescaline Eyes', where the music comes to a sudden halt and Snere yells '..and in all there's nothing left' over the unexpected opening abyss below. Or the machinegun-bass that kickstarts 'The Shit Sisters'. That's only what I can recall from the top of my head right now.
The first time i saw them live was two summers ago at the Flufffest in the Czech Republic. It was the evening of the last day. Almost three days of good and bad hardcore, dirt, filth and laughter had gone by, the sun was setting and there was this orange hue all over the place. Some member of the band had stepped into some dogshit, and by the time the second song started, the stage was covered with it, with the singer rolling in it shirtless. How's that for intensity and punk-spirit, you designercrusts?
These Arms Are Snakes is one of those rare bands that makes me want to dance and singalong when I'm listening to them on any kind of public transportation, or that makes me want to halt strangers and say 'listen to that part right here! Isn't that just fucking genius?'. Luckily, shyness is my saviour.
I don't really get how they do it. I hate all the ingrediënts - an overload on keyboardtunes, anachronical 70ies vibes, spastic nonsense and stupid long songtitels about trains, drugs, chickens and whatnot - yet the final recipe manages to send shivers down my spine over and over again. Take for example the part in 'Mescaline Eyes', where the music comes to a sudden halt and Snere yells '..and in all there's nothing left' over the unexpected opening abyss below. Or the machinegun-bass that kickstarts 'The Shit Sisters'. That's only what I can recall from the top of my head right now.
The first time i saw them live was two summers ago at the Flufffest in the Czech Republic. It was the evening of the last day. Almost three days of good and bad hardcore, dirt, filth and laughter had gone by, the sun was setting and there was this orange hue all over the place. Some member of the band had stepped into some dogshit, and by the time the second song started, the stage was covered with it, with the singer rolling in it shirtless. How's that for intensity and punk-spirit, you designercrusts?
These Arms Are Snakes is one of those rare bands that makes me want to dance and singalong when I'm listening to them on any kind of public transportation, or that makes me want to halt strangers and say 'listen to that part right here! Isn't that just fucking genius?'. Luckily, shyness is my saviour.
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