UKULA Music

The End of Roving.

Words by Scott Tavener Photos by Lucia Graca

“So, we’ll go no more a-roving/So late into the night/Though the heart be still as loving/And the moon be still as bright.” -From “So, We’ll Go No More A-Roving” by Lord Byron

Slumberous hordes, stomachs filled with falafel and giant Yorkshire puddings, began the final day of Glastonbury perspiring and sporadically rain-soaked yet bolstered by strong lineups and the bittersweet approach of the Festival’s dénouement.

Day 5 highlights included Joe Strummer-loving Scotsmen, Glasvegas, who played a resounding, brogue-y Other Stage set. Also, with a stellar new record to draw from, New York indie aristocracy, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, under the stewardship of Technicolor Pocahontas, Karen O, shimmered, despite omitting slow-burning It’s Blitz! highlight, “Hysteric.”

Only slightly bloated, resurrected closers, Blur, doled out nostalgia hits in front of a sweaty, ragged mass, running through chart cuts like “Parklife” and “Country House” at a steady clip, showing a strange appreciation for the moon, and ignoring Oasis-alluding chants (i.e. “”Play “Wonderwall”" and “what about “Fuckin’ in the Bushes?”").

UKULA coolly skipped out before the finale, opting for a darkly lit Echo & the Bunnymen, John Peel Stage climax that could have taught Albarn et al a valuable lesson (i.e. dark lighting and aging bands go together like camembert and a fresh baguette).

For throat-lump-inducing final-day visual coverage, follow the jump. Tangentially, don’t cry: T in the Park is only a week away.

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July 2nd, 2009 | Tags: Blur, Glastonbury, Glasvegas, Yeah Yeah Yeahs | Category: Feature, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Pinko Musings From The Daily Worker.

Words by Scott Tavener Photos by Lucia Graca

Despite what Trotsky would have you believe, the proletariat needs a leader (or at least a manager). In that vein, Glastonbury Day 4 got a visit from The Boss, who delivered an epic Pyramid Stage set to the soused masses. Cooler than thou, UKULA skipped it in favour of Park Stage campfire closer, Justin Vernon (aka Bon Iver), who delivered an enchanting fire-light set of delicate ballads mixed with doses of reverb and “Stacks” of swooning (it’s Day 4, we’re a little punny).

Earlier on the Glasto docket ascending New Jersey quartet Gaslight Anthem scored a coup — albeit, without starting a lefty revolution — getting Mr. Springsteen onstage for a scorching “‘59 Sound” duet in the John Peel tent. The Garden State pairing kicked off a shopping-mall disparate duo of shimmering gigs, from Boston’s falsetto-loving blip heroes, Passion Pit, and Kate Bush reincarnate, Florence and the Machine. Emmy the Great trumpeted water in the backstage globe, Spinal Tap was old (really old), and other Day 4 happenings in Ms. Graca’s photo roundup. Incidentally, the new Peter Bjorn and John record is terrible.

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June 28th, 2009 | Tags: Bon Iver, Bruce Springsteen, Florence and the Machine, Gaslight Anthem, Glastonbury, Passion Pit | Category: Feature, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Lorenzo’s Ears Perk.

Words by Scott Tavener Photos by Lucia Graca

The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
Merchant of Venice Act 5, Scene 1

After two days of drop d flirtations and strained iPod speakers, music officially, earnestly arrived on Glastonbury stages. The natural order of things at last seeped through the mud, with boy bands relegated to unseen nostalgia and bands — actual bands, replete with instruments, melodies, and rhythm sections — arriving as Darwinian conquerors. Plaid clad roots-folk outfit, Fleet Foxes enchanted with choral melodies, the Horrors injected stirring shtick, and Noah and the Whale twee-charmed. And the Maccabees played a, um, pleasant set (more on that to come).

In celebration of Glastonbury Day 3, children screamed, fat men slumbered against a urine soaked wall, and a pop star was mourned. UKULA photographer, Lucia Graca captured all that and more. Follow the jump for an image extravaganza. (Incidentally, Bloc Party killed in an Other Stage closing set that included B-side favourite, “Two More Years” and a rare Glastonbury encore, a la a stirring take on “This Modern Love,” but those images are stored in our head; maybe you should have bought a ticket.)

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June 27th, 2009 | Tags: Dead Weather, Fleet Foxes, Glastonbury, Noah and the Whale, The Horrors, The Maccabees | Category: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

A Feast of Aphorisms and Similes.

Words by Scott Tavener Photos by Lucia Graca

Like a pig emerging from a blanket, Glastonbury unfurled itself slowly on Day 2, opening tents and finally showcasing a handful of acts. With nearly 100 000 people already on site, revellers thirsted for entertainment of both the liquid and aural variety.

Any-port-in-a-storm capitalizers, Maxïmo Park (un)officially kicked off the Festival in the bottle-necked, Queens Head Stage, drawing everyone that had not fallen under pharmacy-aided heat stroke. Like mediocre cheese at a deli counter, MOR rock has a strange affinity for sating starving ears. For the noncommittal, the mass convergence of punters proved a welcome opportunity to enjoy reduced falafel lines. (Proverbially, Lebanese fare is better than MOR rock.)

Culling a swelling crowd with a similar paradigm, resurrected 1990s boy-band, East 17 (aka E 17), packed a sweaty Dance Village tent, soaking a circus of aging testosterone and nostalgic make-outs with effusive thanks (think grateful lover). (Incidentally, Lebanese fare is better than nostalgia acts.)

Coles Notes Dénouement: it finally rained, though only in short spats, unleashing sporadic torrents like a high school lover. (Perennially, Lebanese fare is better than weather reports.)

June 26th, 2009 | Tags: East 17, Glastonbury, Maximo Park | Category: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

A pre-music music festival.

Words by Scott Tavener Photos by Lucia Graca

Like Tibet, Glastonbury Day 1 placated Buddhists and other Karmic adherents, metamorphosing exigent traffic lines into sunset pink skies (that’s what goes on in Tibet, isn’t it?). Largely confined to car stereos, tent pole clicking, and makeshift troubadour sessions, music was confined to the margins with curios, from cloyingly closed colourful towers to a disturbingly accurate [ed. Glastonbury founder] Michael Eavis sand sphinx (publically destroyable come Sunday), taking precedence.

Tent cities sprung up at a quick clip, sweat and falafel scents comingled in the air as flickering lanterns stumbled bravely, ill fatedly about. Silence was sporadic and ironically non-existent in Silent Disco, which saw two competing DJs vie for headphone supremacy. Bands didn’t take stages, though schedule debates began a steady din, with Sharpie dotted hands holding on to canned cider.

Like an old man easing into a hot bath, Day 1 began slowly yet assuredly. For more images of serenity, preparation, mood lighting, mass quietude, and Christmas-morning-style anticipation, follow the jump. More »

June 25th, 2009 | Tags: Glastonbury Festival | Category: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Mud, music, and rubber.

Words by Scott Tavener Photo By Lucia Graca

Pristine, untouched, and smelling of fresh rubber, brand new Wellingtons sit in a box in London. No proletarian endeavour or duck hunt awaits them. They will get wet though, and soon. A monsoon patiently prepares, sequestered over the Atlantic, getting ready to loose a tempest across Europe, soaking amps and Wellies as raindrops quiver from reverb. Festival Season is set to begin.

UKULA returns with summer-long festival coverage beginning with cider and fresh eggs at Glastonbury and ending with thick scarves and earmuffs in Reykjavik. In between, thousands of bands will destroy countless picks, break scores of strings, and rise and fall like drunken trampolinists. UKULA will see it all through dirt-speckled, tinted lenses, captured in camera flicks and e-quill scribbles.

For the full, carved-in-soap UKULA Festival Coverage Schedule, follow the jump. More »

June 16th, 2009 | Tags: Glastonbury, Music Festivals, Reading, T in the Park | Category: Feature | Leave a comment

A last look at an iconic venue.

Words by Scott Tavener Photo by Lucia Graca

Music is a peripatetic endeavour. Bands traipse stages and cross land, falling in and out of favour, proverbially burning brightly and fading out. Each one is tacitly terminal, most with expiry dates looming not long after inception. Usually, venues have longer shelf lives than the performers that fill them, yet they too are fated to disappear.

A bulwark of live music, the London Astoria, along with its conjoined sister, the cleverly titled Astoria 2 (nee Mean Fiddler), closed its doors on January 15th. Its demolition will clear the way for rail expansion, befitting its latest guise’s relationship to transiency.

In over thirty years, the Astoria hosted plethoric acts, from quick-burners and upstarts to luminaries. Beginning with punk and ending with post-punk revival, it spanned myriad epochs, surviving ownership changes and embracing various zeitgeists. At turns stately and amiably shaggy, it had an endearing aura. Whether filled to capacity or dotted with bemused gawkers, the bulwark on Charing Cross Road became entrenched in the city’s musical firmament. Then it closed.

Erected in 1927, the building sauntered into national consciousness when it morphed into a full-time concert theatre in 1976. Since its closure became imminent, its long list of influential alumni (i.e. Radiohead, Nirvana, Blur, Oasis, Manic Street Preachers, etc.) has enjoyed/endured ad nauseum rehash. A collection of live concert footage, a glut of show photos, and a stack of recordings remain to commemorate the venerable venue. Although, more resonant a tribute is the growing list of personal recollections.

As though clearing the walls will let out the aural treasures housed within, Astoria’s shell has been quickly pilfered, its innards broken down before its walls fall. Its shuttering has dredged up en masse nostalgia. Former attendees, from addicts to the occasionally curious, have begun an ongoing palaver: a verbal requiem of reminiscences; here are two more.

After two years away from the Astoria, I wandered in for a forgettable post-post-punk bill. Good naturedly dragging a friend behind me, I approached the stage. Above a tuned-down riff, I heard my name called from a few metres back. As I turned to investigate, my foot caught an edge and I fell loudly to the floor in front of 2,000 onlookers. More »

June 11th, 2009 | Tags: London Astoria, UKULA | Category: Feature | Leave a comment

A slightly belated chat with our favourite VBS host.

By Chris Bilton

When I show up at Studio Gallery, a few people are still cleaning up after an apparent mad rush to hang Patrick O’Dell’s photographs for his solo show, To All My Friends. The painfully white room on the second floor of this College Street space contains a single strip of framed photos stretching the full length of opposite walls, with a massive photo collage at the near end and an untended bar at the other. Most of the photos are easily recognizable from O’Dell’s Vice Magazine work and his Epicly Later’d photo blog. But photos of other photographers (presumable photo-bloggers) in the midst of shooting subjects and a number of desert landscape shots break up the customary pukers and potential injuries.

I’m told that Patrick has gone out for a smoke; that he forgot his passport and had to rush back to his apartment before boarding the plane from NYC, so he’s a little frazzled from barely making it to Toronto. After waiting around for a while I get a call from a friend who just happened to run into Patrick on the street. I decide to split and come back in a little while.

When I do finally meet up with Patrick he’s polite and friendly, but super shy. We step out onto the fire escape overlooking the alley and scope out the schoolyard basketball scene. Since he doesn’t seem all that comfortable with being interviewed, I ask him what it’s like being on the other end of the questions when he’s talking up skateboarders for VBS. “I’ve been doing it a long time now,” he says. “I’m older than a lot of them … I have seniority.”

One of my favourite Epicly Later’d episodes is the Jerry Hsu outtake reel. Though I’m curious whether O’Dell feels any obligation to intervene when he’s watching stiff like that, he explains that he wasn’t actually there for it. “Those outtakes were filmed by the Enjoi crew,” he says. “I asked for them to send a take of him slamming really hard and they sent all of it. So we just ran the whole thing.” As for intervening, O’Dell understands that Hsu’s penchant for pain is just part of the job: “Jerry’s so good humoured and smart and he makes skating look really fun, but he’s really hard working.”

When it comes to capturing the photographic action, O’Dell maintains an equal remove. Despite the fact that he often appears in his photos, and always seems to get close enough to be involved, he’s pretty clear about his role as gonzo photojournalist. “It’s funny, last week everyone from the tour was in town and they all wanted me to hang,” he explains. “But at like 2am I was ready to go. People think that just because there are all these fucked up photos of me with them that I live that way. But I don’t. I live vicariously through them.” More »

January 30th, 2009 | Category: Interview | Leave a comment

UKULA photographer Walid Lodin captures Day 2 at Toronto’s 2008 edition of Virgin Fest, complete with a couple shots of the Gallagher assault melee.

October 7th, 2008 | Tags: Oasis attack, UKULA, Virgin Festival | Category: Photos | Leave a comment