Bike Week 2010

Today sees the start of the Team Green Britain Bike Week 2010.


The simplest way to get involved is to cycle to and from your workplace at some point during the next nine days – a feat that won’t require any second thoughts to those who already do so. For those who don't, Cycle GM Commute Challenge has devised a little added incentive for those who might not usually consider it. But will the novelty last for the fair weather cyclists? And will there even be enough fair weather for the fair weather cyclists?

So far, the answer to the latter question, as I glance out of my window, is yes. The former poser is one with as much uncertainty as ever.


Manchester Friends of the Earth associates Love Your Bike are involved with Manchester City Council and the aforementioned Cycle GM for this year’s festivities, who’ve planned a schedule befitting some of the likely reactions to any suggestion of ditching the gas guzzler in favour of the cyclepaths.

On top of Cycle GM’s week-long challenge, the first brakes should be applied on arrival at Maintenance Monday; a worthwhile visit to those of you put off by the speed of your tyre’s deflation.


Now roadworthy, cycling to work should be a given. Bike to Work Day on Albert Square will find related activities, relevant for two-wheelers both new and experienced.

By the time the working week ends, and when cycling to work has whet your appetite for a pedal through the city, Bike Friday is offering (as is the case with every last Friday of the month) some ideas for where to go via their ‘led rides’ from Bury, Manchester, Salford and Trafford.


Finally, if after all that you don’t think you have the right helmet, high-vis jacket or ankle clips for your cycle chic, there’ll be some tips at the Bike Fabulous biking fashion showcase, on Saturday in the Arndale, where various catwalks (or catcycles?) will be punctuated by more on how to maintain your bike.

Words & Pictures: Ian Pennington

The Natural Marketplace

The parks and green spaces of Manchester seem to be gaining an increasingly prominent status within the city as a place where community and environmental action mingles with open space and good old fashioned peace and bloody quiet. But is it that easy? What pressures are put on them by their location and their function? And what is one park, Platt Fields Park in Fallowfield and Rusholme (now halfway through its centenary year), doing to try and thrive in this 21st Century where the twitter on your i-phone is more anticipated than the twitter of a sparrow (LOL)?


There has been a new project launched by the UK Government to try and place a monetary value on the Natural World, the UK National Ecosystem Assessment. Its aim, and I quote, is to be “the first analysis of the UK’s natural environment in terms of the benefits it provides to society and continuing economic prosperity” (http://uknea.unep-wcmc.org). Basically, they decide how much the Natural World is worth to us in pounds and pence. A piece of woodland? That'll be a fiver to you sir. A marshland with a peat underlayer that might act as a potential store for excess carbon? Fifty quid and a wink. Easy.


But the real issue here is the commodification of the Natural World around us. This comes in two ways – first, there is the placing of monetary value onto ecosystems and green spaces. This, according to some, will allow us to appreciate the true value of such things, and, actually, remove them from the marketplace by ascribing value designed to protect it. However, there is the reverse argument that it simply draws the Natural World into the marketplace, opening it up to be used as a 'thing' to be traded or exchanged based on its current value.


Second, is the idea that green spaces must compete with other resources for funding, preservation and a right to exist. They must prove their value for money by making repeated funding requests and proving what they do for the community, or be damned. There is no longer an idea of inherent usefulness in having green spaces.

Also, this has the effect of making us 'consumers' of green spaces to the extent that we expect things from them, as they are paid for by our money. We therefore expect value for that money. “This is our park, I paid for it with my ruddy council tax," etc, much the same argument we would use to justify bin collections every week or roads with no potholes.


So how does Platt Fields Park in particular survive and adapt to this paradigm shift in the thinking about green spaces?

In an interview with Anne Tucker from the Friends of Platt Fields Park, she explained that the park has many different interests to accommodate and to fend off. “Juggling different people’s needs from the park is the trickiest thing,” she says. “Problems are noise levels vs peace and quiet; dog lovers vs dog haters; fireworks (popular vs effects on wildlife); lake uses (fishing vs boating vs leave it alone); duck feeding vs excess of Canada geese; pathways v grass...” It seems that so many groups use these spaces that it is hard to get the balance right, as everyone has an expectation of what their local park should offer them. This expectation increases with the increased function and use value that parks must have to compete for limited Council resources.


Other interests want simply to change the use of the park altogether, or at least parts of it. “Over the years, there have been some attempts to encroach on the park by developers – most notably the gradual taking over of more of the park by Manchester City FC Sports Complex. There was a big fuss over this so another attempt in 2004 to make a temporary car park for hospital employees to park in and be bussed to the hospital while the MRI/St Mary’s were being rebuilt – it got cancelled with a huge campaign.”

On the up side though, Anne comments that, “nowadays if anyone wants anything like that, Manchester Leisure says ‘no’ immediately!”


When you go to Platt Fields Park, as I was lucky enough to do during the Easter Holidays, there certainly is a lot going on, and a lot of different communities using the park. Joggers, young families, groups of young people on the skate park, old men and their dogs, cyclists, people just going from A to B, and students, all seem to get something out of the park. There are cycling workshops, art days, guerilla gardening, community festivals and loads more stuff to try and get people involved in a productive, local way. And yet, all around, there are signs of the city still present, leaning over as if waiting for Nature to let its guard down. Student Accommodation looms up on one side, the MCFC Sports Complex on the other. The noise of traffic on Wilmslow Road is never far away.


All in all, despite the new pressures Platt Fields Park finds itself under, it tries its best to compete (yes, ‘compete’) for attention in our busy city where space is at a premium. I would have to say that its value lies not in its monetary worth, or its usefulness to various interested parties, but simply as an antidote to the dusty, glum routines we find ourselves swept along by if we don't keep our wits about us.

Words: Andy Rees
Pictures: Ian Pennington

Now Then Readership Survey

Hi all, we'd be very grateful if you could take a couple of minutes (really, it doesn't take long) to complete our readership survey: http://www.nowthensurvey.co.uk

Basically, we're trying to find out a bit more about you, what you're interested in and whether there's anything else you'd like us to be doing or featuring in the magazine and on the blogs that fall under the expansive 'Now Then' umbrella.

Manchester people: there are a couple of questions that are Sheffield-specific, but we'd still really appreciate your input.

Completing the survey will also enter you into a competition; five lucky people will be picked out at random to receive one of a range of exciting prizes (details on the top of the survey form).

Closing date for entry into the competition is 12.00pm, Monday 5 July, but we will still accept completed surveys after that date. Thanks in advance!

The British People, Part II

[Andy Rees follows his pre-election musings - found here on page 15 - with this post-election analysis]

So here we are. The sky hasn't fallen on our heads. Maggie hasn't come down from the clouds on a black chariot pulled by seven snarling horses. But still, it's Torygeddon, right?

Perhaps. But the big thing is – who really knows? No-one!

There's been an awful lot of very strong reaction to the Tory-Lib Dem blood pact, but personally I can’t see what all the fuss is about. Now I'm no Tory, but I'm no Labour or Lib Dem either.

The thing is we can't actually expect politicians to live up to the promises that they make during election campaigns. And I don't think it’s entirely their fault either. As far as I can see, it's all a big colourful game. It's a circus, and the politicians are the trained animals in the middle, getting all the applause and all the anger when it doesn't go right. The crowd bays or it cheers, depending on whether they like what they see or not.

Can you blame the animals for performing? Hardly. In the same way you can hardly blame the politicians for wild lies and emotive promises such as 'free cancer drugs', because that's what the people want.

Or is it what the people want? There's someone, something else we haven't mentioned yet.

It's not just the people and the politicians, just like it's not just the lions and the audience. The ringmaster... They mitigate everything. They are the conduit between one and the other. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give youuuuuu.... The Media.

Such is the vastness of this country; such is the concentration on political might in Westminster, that we very rarely have any first-hand contact with big party politics, or big party politicians. So how do we find out? The media. Newspapers, TV interviews, the radio, Bloggy McBloggerson and his friends.

And guess what? They've all got an angle, an opinion, a take on it. There's not a single news show or newspaper, not a single piece of text written on, about, around or after the election (including this one) that doesn't take a perspective. And taking a perspective means, inevitably, that something gets exaggerated, and something gets lost.

And this is a two-way process. We learn about the politicians, and the politicians learn about us. And just as we think of them as a bunch of slimeballs, they must look at the people like they're from another planet. Who are these angry men and women? Why do they shout at us all the time? They can have all the focus groups in the world, but it's from the media where the impression really comes.

The media needs a good story. A good story is, often, perhaps always, a short and snappy story. Quick news. Gossip, opinion, slander, promises. And if there's ever a pause to consider the bigger issues – justice, wealth redistribution, national identity – it's always done by getting some experts to disagree with each other so that they all look stupid. It's all conflict. And if it's not conflict, it's quick news.

Even so-called respected journalistic programmes like Today on Radio 4 seem unable to do anything but ask vicious questions in the hope of getting a headline. You might say that it's right to challenge those who hold power, and bring them to account. Of course. But when that challenge becomes a few acerbic questions where the answers are then ridiculed or disbelieved – a hunt for the quick hit story – what use is that?

We pick each word that politicians say to pieces. Look at the linguistic glass-treading around 'cuts'. Some said 'deep', some said 'savage', some said 'severe'. Politicians were chastised for saying too much, or not saying enough. Is it any surprise that they never tell the truth? If they told us the truth about the amount of money that would have to be cut from the Budget to avoid us becoming a Hellenic mess, no-one would've voted, or we'd all have voted BNP.

So, two things. First, the truth is shit and hard to bear. Second, the Media pounces on any mistakes, and we clap and eat some more popcorn as they rip open the proverbial jugular. I'll say it again: is it any surprise that they never tell us the truth?

To come back to my starting point – what's the big fuss? I bet that nothing much will change, or at least it won't be vastly different to a more ‘left-wing’ coalition. Sure, there is a chance that the Tory-Lib Dem coalition will 'cut' by launching a moral crusade against the poor and vulnerable. But that would've happened under a Labour Government too. No-one likes a scrounger.

I think we all need to take a step back. I think we all need to stop believing that this country is simply the sum of its Cabinet and Prime Ministerial parts. The Government, although it and the media would have you believe otherwise, is one tiny cherry on top of a massive civil service and civic society that is far more static and far more resistant to top-down change than the Twittering social commentators would have us believe. I hear it so often – 'we're the internet generation, it's a new age.' No. You just spend too much time on Facebook and reading G2. Get outside, smell the piss and the honey, the beauty and the beast, and you'll get a much better idea of what the hell is going on.

Words: Andy Rees

FutureEverything presents: Konono No.1 @ Club Academy, Thursday 13th May

A quick FutureEverything recent history: the festival stepped away from being FutureSonic, a name seemingly suggestive of a music festival with periphery activities, to take on its new moniker (FutureEverything) for the first time this year, thus becoming recognisably an all encompassing festival that happens to include music. It’s still essentially the same thing though, which is great.


As their personalised megaphone loudspeakers attest, Konono No. 1 are to claim this stage of the festival as their own. However, first they lend it to Bass Clef and his warped beats’n’bass loops, laid to support fusions of trombone.

It’s the likembés that are the main racket makers, as three of the six Congolese wield these traditionally acoustic instruments (variations of which include the sanza mbira, finger xylophone and thumb piano, amongst others). Add a pick-up to each and the fast plucked clangs reverberate in bass, medium and treble.


Beyond the leading trio of likembés there’s bass bongos, snare drum and hollow, metal car parts clamouring for percussive attention. And while the steady undercurrent is maintained, vocalist Pauline Mbuka Nsiala’s hip gyrations lead the way for an audience itching to move with the upbeat vibe.


There’s hardly a let-up, with most songs relentlessly weighing in at longer than ten – if not twenty – minutes, but there is some time for front row banter in French. Previous Krautrock comparisons are difficult to avoid, and you can’t blame the lead singer for failing to materialise for the encore after close to two hours of near-incessantly catchy repetitions.

Words: Ian Pennington
Pictures: Jo Ford

Caribou @ Deaf Institute, Monday 19th April, 2010

“Exciting, unpredictable, spontaneous...” Three words songwriter Dan Snaith chose to describe the second date on their Swim album tour.


That’s his brief post-gig analysis, a long time since the panda hat clad Gold Panda, of recent remixes renown, took the stage. The sample-monger’s dashing lazer sounds over electronic beats intersperse with Eno-esque ambient soundscapes; Lemon Jelly at times, house-y floor fillers at others.


So, onwards to Caribou and, with Snaith’s own interpretation in mind, it must be said it is a gig with moments of all of the above. The excitement is easy to tick off; this comes courtesy of the intensity of seeing the band perform live, which is, as ever with Caribou, far more imposing than their recorded output. And this is noticeable on both the sunny Californian psychedelia elements (‘Melody Day’) and the emphatic screaming guitars of ‘Barnowl’, during which drummer Brad Weber raises his sticks to the sky, as if about the unleash hell.


Unpredictable are the shapes on show. There’s a colourful, metamorphing backdrop altering from the Swim cover’s circles through to hexagons, via diamonds and pentagons. And during the ‘Bowls’ percussive face-off, the musical quartet face inwards for a demonic beats rhombus; drum pads and stoic keys alongside that sound a pair of dice make when rattled in a shaker.


You might say the mouthy nutter who appears in the front of the audience towards the end of the set is spontaneous in adding his own overlay of the Eurythmics’ ‘Sweet Dreams’ lyrics to the minimal trance builds of ‘Sun’. Others on the night choose less subtle descriptions, since he’d previously decided to butcher the classic Alan Partridge ‘Dan! Dan! Dan...’ sketch when calling his mate Dave, whom he seemingly thought would like a closer view alongside him during Caribou's SONAR blip hooks of 'Odessa'.


But Snaith et al don’t complain; merely proceeding to chant their cosmic vocal echoes like hypnotised robots: “Sun, Sun, Sun...” ad infinitum.

Words: Ian Pennington
Pictures: Laurent Du Bus

Anonymity In Music

Pop music doesn’t cater for anonymity. ‘What does an artist look like?’ is an ever pressing question on the mind of a fan.

Recently, William Bevan (aka Burial) tried to mask his image behind his pseudonym; this lead to a great deal of hysteria up-until February 2008, when The Independent exposed the man behind the mask.

Typically, anonymity is a tool used for the good. We most readily associate the concept with The BATMAN. The idea is that by remaining invisible to the social eye the ID can represent an agent for something bigger, in the case of the Caped-Crusader he becomes an immortalised agent of the good ship politic. Wiping out the blemishes, the corruption, the abuse of power.

Certainly in the case of musicians such as MF DOOM, a rapper who sports the mask of Marvel Comics character Dr Doom, this is highly pertinent. Lesser so but still relevant would be the discreet members of Detroit techno collective Underground Resistance. The idea that the music can do the talking, that it can be the sole medium of communication is a powerful idea. The problem occurs when someone hides from society; our instant reaction is to expose them.

If comic books are to be believed, anonymity produces two opposing reactions – many of Batman’s nemeses are also disguised. Additionally, The Batman was initially conceived as an altruistic character. However, over time we’ve learned to question his motives, we want to learn more about this disguised man of honour. Furthermore, the notion of anonymity has become stained by the online world. Writers and bloggers regularly take pseudonyms; there are avatars and usernames. Such a great proportion of online content is untraceable to the source that it lacks a human touch.

People use online anonymity to vent their spleen, to rant and rave, to attack others, to hurl insults at those they will probably never meet. Because of this, today we associate pseudonyms and anonymity as an agent void of moral or legal obligation. They live above the law and outside of society. Crucially they lack accountability.

It seems unfeasible today as to why anyone would adopt such a renegade stance. Especially if you are a musician. The group WU LYF (formally known as Wolf Wolf amongst others of varying printability) are one such group.

Crammed into a back street deli near Piccadilly Station awaiting WU LYF, it’s clear that their disguise has brought them attention. The room is packed with A&R men and women (but mostly men), gig promoters, radio presenters, journalists, music publishers, all keen to see the band. It’s apparent that the hottest property in Manchester is a band whose commodity isn’t readily identifiable.

Fairy lights are flashing violently, a girl applies some lipstick, a kora player plies his trade in the corner. The band watch-on whilst the audience are incapable of identifying them. This is their power. As Bruce Wayne walks amongst us we feel safe in the knowledge that elsewhere, Batman is protecting us.

Unfortunately, WU LYF aren’t going to save you. They’re going to remind you that the society we live in lacks a centre. That we live such fragmented lives and that in this cultural vacuum we aren’t going to find anything tangible to stop ourselves from cascading apart. Gotham City is falling to pieces.

Words: Samuel Breen

Preview: Chorlton Arts Festival

The Chorlton Arts Festival is back for another not-for-profit year of music, art, literature, film and performance. It has achieved a success that belies its humble origins a decade ago. However, it seems they had big ideas even back then. Festival Director Phillip Hannaway states: “There were three guiding principles: to provide a platform for local artists; to provide opportunities for our local children to experience the arts; and finally to provide high quality events, free of charge or at low cost. These principles are still as relevant in our tenth year as they were in 2001.” Last year, it attracted 25,000 visitors, from local to city-wide and national, to a massive programme of goings-on and happenings.


This audience figure suggests both the broad appeal that the festival holds, and also the big names that they attract to raise the profile of the event and bring world-renowned music to South West Manchester. In the past, jazz luminaries Courtney Pine and Jacqui Dankworth have graced the stages, and must-see big names this year include a collaboration between Jazz maestro(ess) Clare Martin and composer Sir Richard Rodney Bennett fresh from world tours, folkster(ess) Beth Jeans Houghton, Canadian band The Acorn, and that guy from Bottom (the bald one) making music.

But with all this global talent, is it ever difficult to keep it a locally-focused event? “It's not a struggle at all,” Hannaway replies, “as being at the heart of such a creative suburb means we are never short of local artists who want to get involved in the festival, and the quality of the performances that come from local people never ceases to amaze us”.


There are hundreds of small events, choir performances, workshops, film showings, gallery exhibitions, artist talks, dance classes, local musical talent and such. This isn't just nice talk about being 'community-based' or 'local' – it's at the heart of the festival's programme.


There are also showpiece art-involvement events like 'Flashlight'. The idea is that lots of people from Chorlton buy a light and then meet in a flashmob style at various points around the 'village' to 'take away a new perspective or experience of the place in which they live'. So it might just be a few people holding some torches, or it could be something more... How will you know unless you join in?

And it's not just about an evening's entertainment – there is a strong emphasis on educational value. A schools programme runs concurrently with the festival, asking respected cultural bodies like the Hallé Orchestra to get involved with 5,000 of Chorlton's schoolchildren “who might get their first taste of the arts in Chorlton, which will go on to foster a lifelong interest” enthuses Hannaway. There is clearly great passion here, and it is reflected throughout the festival's ethos and attractions.


One of the great things about an event like this is the diversity. It feels like this whole article is just one a big list of all the things to do – and it could be. But it's not just about how much is going on – it's about local and international combining to provide Chorlton, and the region, with quality, low-price entertainment. It's an opportunity to shine a spotlight on all the amazing grassroots stuff that goes on below the cultural radar all year round, and put it on the same billing as big names that garner respect the world over.

So what are you waiting for? Hop on the 86 and come and join us in the 'burbs for 12 days of good times!

Chorlton Arts Festival runs from Thursday 20th May until Sunday 30th May.

Words: Andy Rees
Pictures: Courtesy of Chorlton Arts Festival

Folk on a Train. 10th April, 2010

Tear up your formulas. Don a feather'd cap and a 16-25 railcard. No, not the Nazi trainspotting club - that's Volk Trains - this is Folk Trains (Hathersage).

The idea is simple, and wonderfully sweet-tasting. The musicians, accompanied by an excited rabble of folk enthusiasts, day trippers and confused-looking ramblers take the 11:52 from [Manchester] Piccadilly to New Mills Newtown, alight, and retire to the Queen's Arms - for light refreshment and pub food (Gammon & Chips, £3.50 luv) - before hopping back on the 14:50 to Piccadilly. All the time playing, singing and reviving a sparkling array of folk, roots, blues and bluegrass music from a variety of guest singers as they all, albeit proverbially, steam to and from the Peak District.

Today is Geoff Higginbottom and his beardy mate in the terrible shirt on the electric mandolin. As the train wheezes east and upwards past the post-war urban sprawl of Levenshulme, Woodford, Heaton Chapel, and Hazel Grove, they belt out a rousing mixture of local folk songs, 60s protest music and jokes about Mexicans. The hills rise, beginning to frame the music in its right context; tight valleys with old mills turned now to more Satanic purposes. Loft living, anyone?
The visual mixture of timeless moorland and fading industrial legacy make the music seem as relevant as ever, and without a single song about meeting a sweet babe on Facebook.

Pulling up in New Mills, a stroll down the hill past the Swizzels Matlow factory, the home of the Flump, journeys the congregation to the pub. Here we meet another best friend of folk music – a pint of Mild. Accompanying sing-along choruses of 'Midnight Special', stories abound about local folk heroes like Bouncing Billy Barker, who, it is claimed, jumped across the canal in one giant leap.

On the train home, the good feeling continues as the sun beats down, only a bunch of surly-looking teenagers are clearly unimpressed when seventy folk music fans board their train and proceed to sing a chorus of 'The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down' (as performed by The Band, post-Dylan).

Folk Trains engages people not just in music they would normally ignore, the functional a-to-b becomes a moment of pleasure, perhaps. The fact that I bloody love trains, and hills, and men with little pony tails called Geoff is simply a reaffirmation that Local Stopping Service plus Fairport Convention songs equals a perfect afternoon. And all for £3.45 (with railcard, of course).

If ever there was a reminder that the great joy of Manchester (and Sheffield too) is not just in the city itself, but in its location at the doorstep of some of England's finest wilderness, and that there is more to the music scene than supping Weissbeir in the Northern Quarter listening to some cacky new band, then this is it.

Folk Trains run out of Manchester (to New Mills/Hathersage and Glossop) and Sheffield (to Edale). Check out http://www.hvhptp.org.uk/folktran.htm for dates and times.

Words: Andy Rees

This City is Ours & Mind on Fire present: This City is on Fire @ Islington Mill, Friday 20th March

Scheduling is crucial to the success of a gig. You can define the mood by arranging distinct styles to great effect. It doesn’t sound too difficult but it can elude promoters. This City is Ours and Mind on Fire hit the nail on the head with this one, though.

There are a few reasons for this: one being that I’ve never before seen Denis Jones fit so perfectly low down on the bill. This isn’t a point necessarily concerning ability – that’s on show everywhere in the Islington Mill. Instead, the flow from one act to the next is an incisive and steady progression towards higher tempo. Drawing between those lines are Cycloptic’s projected visuals and OneFiveEight’s live art doodling.

From The Kites of San Quentin are up before the top-billed trio; notable for interchanging echoing and a gargling, drowning feel to vocoded lyrics, sitting atop mountainous strata of bass-flecked, groaning FX plateaus. Technical issues aside, they bring a very listenable air of 1990s Bristolian trip-hop to the table.


Those technical issues have the opposite effect on Denis Jones’s set. ‘Clap Hands’ particularly is performed with added thickness in bass and the version of ‘Beginning’ is one of the clearer he’s produced live. It is also interesting to see this in the context of Denis’s transition from folk to electronic crowd – following the expected ‘Beginning’ ending he receives as appreciative a reception as ever.


Mount Kimbie, recognised as headliners but not last onto the stage, begin slowly. Visuals of a pebble dropped in the pool with ripples of sound gradually expanding are accurate, bringing in elements of their electronic gadgetry pick’n’mix all the while. The eclectic range of music in their 50 minutes is entrancing; mellow minimal to bass’n’beats, bleepy Nintendo pop to The xx lonesome guitar, Burial ambient dubstep to Roots Manuva deep bass. Although the venue is sold out, there’s still space to move and really feel the music pulsing; a contrast to many where the policy seems to be to cram people in beyond the capacity threshold.


XXXY steps it up a notch, tempo-wise, by laptop DJing with fast-paced foot-tappers incorporating what sounds like the dubsteppy Deadboy remix of Delphic’s ‘Halcyon’ and an echoey mix of MSTRKRFT’s ‘Heartbreaker’.

Words & Pictures: Ian Pennington