My design crush on Thom Filicia, if this is even possible, just grew a little bigger. He did a Designer Visions showhouse for House Beautiful and was asked to base his design on a movie. Well, as the astrological design stars aligned, Thom picked The Big Chill – which just happens to be one of my favorite movies of all time!

And I’m not just excited because of our shared interests, the showhouse wasn’t so shabby either. I’m jumping over backwards for the master bedroom; its totally glamorous. Major props for the mismatched night stands, it adds interest but the matching table heights and reading lamps gives it a cohesive look.

The first time I heard The Band’s “The Weight,” at least the first time I can remember hearing it was in 1983’s The Big Chill. I might have heard it before, but it didn’t, if you can excuse the pun, touch a chord as much until that movie. It just wasn’t that kind of music that I listened to back then.

You know what I am talking about. When you’re growing up you might only listen to certain kinds of music and miss out on others. Back in 1983 it was all New Wave and Punk for me with a smattering of classic rock and roll. One listens mainly to the music that their friends are listening to and ignores a lot of other music; that was the way it was for me back in 1983.

Even though I got some great music schooling in the 70s, especially 76-78 when I was stationed in Panama and my musical tastes were shaped by the music most of my friends who had served in Vietnam a few years earlier had listened to, there have been some musical gaps, especially when it has come to some classic rock and roll and blues.

I heard about The Band and I even listened to a few songs of theirs like “They Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” and “Up on Cripple Creek” but I just don’t remember listening to “The Weight” too much. Like I said, I probably heard it back then; it just didn’t move me as much I guess.

Today, it is one of those classic rock and roll songs that gets a lot of playing time on my iPod. Not too long ago, I came across this video on YouTube of The Band performing this song from Martin Scorceses’ The Last Waltz. This is an unbelievable version of the song and when The Staples Family Singers come in, a great song becomes even greater.

Can new media send a positive message and/or educate?

Do you want to hear a confession? I went to a Star Trek Convention once. I’m not going to make any excuses or try to deny that I was impressed to meet “Q.” I was totally speechless by the time my turn came; he was one of those characters that I love to hate. So I stood in front of the signing table clutching a headshot. Actor John de Lancie stared back at me, looked deep into my soul, and after a long awkward pause said “Read.”

That little exchange really stuck with me. The same way that Star Trek the Next Generation stuck with me. That show was the only program on TV that carried a good message. A slightly better message than one of my other favorites, Magnum P.I. So, Star Trek brought us benevolent explores of the galaxy and Magnum P.I. brought us a playboy who has a black friend who flies a helicopter.[1]

Now that I think about it I think there is a positive message to be found no matter what TV show you watch. It just comes down to how you consume the content.

Does social media mark the beginning of a new era?

This week I went to a book signing for Crush It: Why Now is the Time to Cash In on Your Passion. Gary Vanerchuk is not a professional author. He is a social media expert and the creator of Wine Library TV. Gary tells his followers to live their passion. Gary’s passion just happens to be wine. His book is about quitting the job you hate, and create a business you believe in. Gary makes tons of speeches telling his fans that the game is changing, and the internet/social media is responsible. Now a home-grown, one-man operation can be more prolific than any big corporation; more authentic too.

So are you ready to find a new way to consume your media? Our social media hero painted a nice picture during his book signing. Gary said the water cooler is over, you can go there but now everyone watched a different program. In the same regard there is a market on the internet for even the most obscure hobbies. You might ask: how do you monetize geocaching or German board games. Well there is a market for that, a worldwide market and potentially thousands of followers.

It is difficult to be the biggest YouTube star, or the most prolific wine blogger. Gary says that you have to hustle and work your face off. When you watch the videos you will find that he is a very engaging speaker with or without profanity.

When I walked up to get my signature I did not freeze up like when I met “Q.” I walked up and told Gary that I am going to Crush It! Gary came back sounding very genuine and said that he hoped our paths cross again someday. This classic consideration, the kind that makes even the small guy feel important, is one of Gary’s biggest reasons for success.

So are all big corporations and cable television dead. I believe so. The way you and I consume our media is rapidly and forever changing. What would you call this post-post modern era. If you are in for some heavy reading you can check out Alan Kirby “Digimodernism: How New Technologies Dismantle the Postmodern and Reconfigure Our Culture.” I will just leave that there just incase you are a total nerd like me.

My girlfriend was so excited when I got my first cell phone.

How did we ever live without a cell phone? I made it seventy-five percent of the way through college without any hand-held device. The next thing you know my girlfriend has got me on a leash. Not that I wasn’t whipped before. She was blond, great looking and so happy that I finally had a cell phone.

I don’t think I actually called her much on it because we were always together. I did use it to call my family for free on the weekends. This change was responsible for me finally becoming close to my sister and parents. It must have had something to do with distance and technologies’ unique ability to breakdown inhibitions.[2] My cute little blue Nokia also had amazing battery life and an amazing ability to make me instantly accessible to my friends. Yes because of this little phone I started to achieve a level of popularity that I had never experienced before.

After College my girlfriend and I went our separate ways. It was never going to work out. But we did stay in touch with that same cell phone. The carrier switched from VoiceStream to AT&T, but I was able to punch in codes that would let me call Scandinavia for five-cents a minute. I think that experience defined the way that I currently treat break-ups. I realized that I want to remain friends with my ex. I want to be grown-up enough to put aside differences and not to let jealousy rule me. Did you ever see the movie The Big Chill? All of these recovering hippies including Jeff Goldblum try to deal with the fact that they all slept together curing the sixties. I always thought it was cool how they were so cool about it.

Talk about being cool, you should see my iPhone. All these applications like facebook, mobile email, twitterrrific, foursquare, and many more connect with so many people. Someone you didn’t even know yesterday; now wants to go to Lebowski Fest or the Cut & Paste Digital Design Tournament global championship with you! How has a cell phone changed your life?

[2] Have you ever found you inhibitions to be broken down my text messaging? People will say things on a computer that they would never say in a face-to-face conversation. That reduced shyness can also bleed into our other communications. Along with the college experience I think new technology and new media changed my personality – I am a much more outgoing person now.

An overloaded cast can’t work through the issues of a flabby script and scattershot direction.

One of the most frequently heard gripes about American cinema the last couple of years is that adult movies – films made for grown-ups, about grown-up issues or at least matters relevant to audiences over 30 years old – are on the wane. It’s wondered if people who aren’t in college, or better yet high school, haven’t got the time to trek to a movie theatre and sit still for two hours. (Note to Hollywood: these days most of us are working too hard.) Films made for this demographic, the occasional romcom aside, don’t do as well as the superhero and vampire fluff that have become the studios’ meat and potatoes.

Certainly, marriage and parenthood are relevant, if not crucial, topics for “older” audiences, as are such ideas as romance and keeping some sense of youth and spontaneity alive once day-to-day living takes on a limitless routine. Life goes on, like the man said, long after the thrill of living is gone. Hollywood has a long and proud tradition of films addressing such quiet crises: The Big Chill, Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, Two For The Road, The Ice Storm, and quite a few others all tackled its dangers. Notice that all of those films are dramas, however. Not one saw the lighter side of marital ennui and pre-midlife regret.

Just here to get lei'ed: the cast.

Couples Retreat could have been a smarter movie, a more mature film, and a sharper examination of the same topics if it tried harder than it does. But instead its script (co-written by stars Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau) too often panders to its presumed audience without ever really getting beneath the skin of the problems that lurk, like the lemon sharks of its lone suspense sequence, just beneath its surface. As with far too many major studio releases these days, the film takes pains to make sure the audience isn’t provoked into reflection, or into questioning the issues the characters only passingly mention they have. In lieu of that approach there’s too many lazy jokes, too much easy humor, too many cutesy-cute sitcommish gags about precious kids. It’s a safe film, from top to bottom and every frame between.

Uptight couple Jason and Cynthia (Jason Bateman and Kristen Bell) have hit a rough spot in their marriage, largely from their inability to have a child. Strapped for cash and desperate to make their marriage work, they approach five of their friends – two other couples and a recently-divorced male (Favreau and Kristin Davis, Vaughn and Malin Ackerman, Faizon Love) – with a group-rate package vacation to Eden, a tropical resort that doubles as therapeutic boot camp for troubled marriages. The couples agree, with Love’s hapless Shane bringing along his party-hardy 20-year old girlfriend Trudy (Kali Hawk). Once at the resort the couples’ plans for a vacation are foiled by resort regulations that demand they engage in therapy and communication skill-building sessions.

It’s only a little predictable, maybe, that each couple is in a different phase of disintegration: Favreau and Davis’ Joey and Lucy tolerate each other only until their teen daughter leaves for college; Vaughn and Ackerman’s Dave and Ronnie are just beginning to hit the skids; Shane and Trudy barely know each other. So far, so good, except each character takes their respective problem and amplifies it to ten. Part of the problem is that with so many characters, respective characterization gets lost in the shuffle: how can the audience keep up with everyone, unless they stand out? But it’s annoying nonetheless that each character has to go loud to be heard, and everyone’s behavior inevitably becomes childish and plot-focused. There’s very little sense these people know each other, past some laborious exposition dropped into a belabored first act.

There's more here for the guys to like...

Director Peter Billingsley keeps the plot moving, and again with so many characters there’s a lot to juggle. But individual scenes suffer as a direct result, with episodes trailing off and getting whisked from the viewer’s attention before they’ve reached their dramatic or comedic payoff. The result is an uneven middle and an too-tidy resolution that relies on too much convention, at least one out-of-left-field plot contrivance, and more than a little schlock. A film about adults in marital trouble doesn’t need one gag about a child using a sales floor demo toilet. The story in which two such jokes are necessary doesn’t exist.

... than there is for the ladies.

The cast, by and large, brings exactly what you’ve come to expect from them in other performances. Bateman and Bell are charming in their sunny respectability; Vaughn and Favreau are smart-assed and cranky. Davis is Charlotte York. Ackerman is charming and pretty, and seems vastly more comfortable than she appeared in Watchmen earlier this year. Love isn’t a bad actor, but watching his sad sack performance I couldn’t help but wish, and not for the first time, that Bernie Mac was still with us. Of the other cast members, Jean Reno is amusing as the resort’s spacey therapy guru, while Peter Serafinowicz  does an effective Jonathan Pryce impression as the resort’s maitre ‘d.

Ultimately, it’s hard not to imagine this film as a better choice for a January or February release. It’s quality notwithstanding, all the sun and surf lovingly displayed will no doubt offer a welcome escape when winter is at its heaviest. That’s actually about the time the DVD should hit store shelves, so audiences with anything less than a compelling interest in the film would do well to wait until then.

- Michael Kabel

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

i was at the opening night for new bar in town ‘the big chill’ bristol, on the 9th of october. situated on small street, the venue was jam packed with a creative sort of bunch – loved the art work and the atmosphere!

www.bigchill.net

Motown: I think I started with this one because I have a thing for Marvin Gaye and an obsession with The Big Chill soundtrack. Named after the record label that jumpstarted from the fattest city in American (or Detroit, Mich.) and the first label to be run by an African American.

The Motown Sound is deeply soulful but funky and catchy in a poppy pre-Autotune era sort of way. Think “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” by The Temptations. If you don’t know the song, look it up NOW — it’s dance around the living room with your friends worthy. A little bit of funky soul with some serious background vocals and slightly cheesy stage choreography.

Happy listening.

~Sam Morgenstern, Asst. Web Editor

So I’m going to get up Sunday, saunter over to my favorite sports bar, and watch several hours of professional football, enjoying the touchdowns, and the big hits on defense.

I realize that because of this, I’ll be open to being called a hypocrite when I write what I’m about to write.

But every year, there are more and more studies and more and more signs that NFL players are doing serious damage to their brains by playing football.

And every year, the NFL just looks the other way, making excuse after excuse and trying to push the problem back under the rug.

This week a new study, commissioned by the NFL and done by the University of Michigan Institute for Social research, determined that pro football players suffer from Alzheimer’s disease and other dementia-related ailments far more frequently than other Americans.

The study should, theoretically, bolster the cases of so many retired players who’ve been neglected by the union, and whose concussions and other blows to the head have not been treated seriously by the current NFL management.

The study showed that 6.1 percent of retired players over 50 said they had received a dementia-related diagnosis, five times higher than the national average. And players 30-49 reported dementia-related diagnoses at a rate of 1.9 percent, 19 times higher than the national average.

And what is the NFL’s response to this news? Not concern. Not empathy. Not a human response, indicating that they’re tremendously troubled by the report.

No, this is the quote from NFL spokesman Greg Aiello, according to the New York Times:

“There are thousands of retired players who do not have memory problems.”

And this:

“Memory disorders affect many people who never played football or other sports,” Mr. Aiello said. “We are trying to understand it as it relates to our retired players.”

My God, how pathetic. So let me get this straight: If cranes keep collapsing on construction workers and killing them, is it OK if the foreman keeps pointing out how many guys didn’t die on the job that day?

Look, I may be a little more sensitive to this issue, because for six months in 2007 I worked on a story about pro wrestler Chris Benoit, who snapped one day and killed his wife and son. I interviewed several concussion experts who said the repeated blows to Benoit’s head over his wrestling career damaged his brain to a point where he may have had trouble telling right from wrong.

Concussions, and post-playing dementia, are an incredibly dangerous aspect of life in the NFL. Great strides have been made, and much more care is now taken when players get knocked out.

But it would sure be nice if the NFL, while making billions of dollars, would at least admit that these retired players aren’t faking. And that for far too long the league counted the profits while players’ brains slowly withered away.

***Not feeling real confident about the Jets’ chances today at New Orleans. Course, I haven’t been confident about the Jets for the last three weeks,  and they’re 3-0. But Drew Brees is playing like Dan Marino, the Saints’ D is improved, and this game, to me, is a house-money game for the Jets. No one thought they’d be 3-0, so 3-1, with a wounded Miami team on the sked for next week, would be just fine by me.

But if the green and white someone win … well, then the NY media will really go nuts. They’ll be printing Jets-Giants Super Bowl tickets in Penn Station.

**Finally, someone explain this to me: So I’m reading last week’s NY Times Book Review on Saturday (I’m a week behind). I love the Book Review, absolutely love it.

And I’m reading about this new biography of ex-Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis.  Truly a legendary man, one of the foremost legal minds of our time; all good. Then I see the book is 976 pages long.

And I’m thinking: Has the term “editor” been introduced to this guy? I mean, nobody needs a 976-page book on anyone. Who’s reading that? And more importantly, who’s buying it?

You’re telling me you couldn’t sum up the life of Louis Brandeis in a trim 500-600 pages? I’m not saying we all have to revert to the Jeff Goldblum People magazine theory spouted in the classic movie “The Big Chill” (“where I work, we have only one editorial rule: You can’t write anything longer than the average person can read during the average crap”).

I’m just sayin, if I may get a hernia lifting your book, it may be too long.

Contemplatively staring around at the acrylic-littered walls of a scrapheap bedroom, I’d haphazardly guess that any ‘collector’ of random artistically splattered canvas could, with very little consideration, pick out their three prize pieces were they shipped off to a stereotypically picturesque desert island equipped with nothing but a shovel, rations and a wall from which to hang such oily golden treasures. Bar guitars, amps, a veritable hoard of cables and a laptop, I’d drag along with me an apocalyptic miniature Hoyland named, seemingly incomprehensibly, The Joy of Living, a Flying Snorse courtesy of Welsh meticulous magician Pete Fowler caged in amongst Spanish vocab books and dodgy Hollywood prequels, and then it’d be a toss-up between a lucky dip between a Steve Keene whimsy palette portrait acquired from Rough Trade’s now-derelict basement Neal’s Yard store and a ghoulish guitarist realised by Lostprophets sampler Jamie Oliver. Whilst I may be many things of varying ability, an art conoisseur evidently is a hop, skip and a jump too far. Hoyland is infamous as a graduate of the Royal Academy and is at the forefront of great British abstract conjurers whilst at the other end of the artistic recognition spectrum is Pontypridd’s very own Oliver, known within the miniscule clique that is the Swansea art scene. Joining the dots however are New Yorker Steve Keene, renowned primarily and almost entirely for record sleeves (namely Pavement’s critically-acclaimed ‘94 ramshackle record Wowee Zowee) and Cardiffian cross-genred psychedelically scrambled maestro Pete Fowler and it’s at this stop that the Dots & Dashes voyage into the uncharted territory of art terminates.

Fowler is a man of many trades and it is without an ounce of hesitation that rest-assured, if you’ve stumbled across the wonderful kingdom of Blogdom, you’ll have come across his brain-splicing colour schemes, flying post-mythical creatures and downright acrylic insanities. Long-term collaborator with fellow Welshies Super Furry Animals, he’s designed every one of Gruff Rhys’ choral trips into the obscure bar debut Fuzzy Logic and recent (relative) flop Hey Venus! When not hidden away behind an easel, he can be found designing vinyl figurines from his enchanted Monsterism Island, manning the most rollockingly rocking sixties ship since The Boat That Rocked beneath a sailor’s hat at the Big Chill or unleashing divinely tranquil musical meanderings into the lost worlds of joyous minimal electronica and scary, hairy lo-fi shoe gazing. Following the indispensability of 2005’s The Sound Of Monsterism Island on Jeff Barrett’s indie den that is the aptly-entitled Heavenly Records featuring the likes of Silver Apples, Martin Denny and, yep, Manfred Mann it was a sensational listen and a breath of fresh air into a stagnant indie pool inundated with the stench of Killers, Kings of Leon and Kaiser Chiefs. Today, a matter of months late, I discovered the sensual delights of the sequel, A Psychedelic Guide To Monsterism Island. Largely featuring a more contemporary splurge of otherworldly musical mischief, Gruff Rhys and Circulus appear alongside Wolf People yet elsewhere, my awareness is akin to that of art; minimal but open-armed.

Pan pipes return, intertwining with melting guitar lines whilst cicadas click over sumptuous jazz piano licks before Rhys powers up Delorean magnetic drums not seen since last year’s ephemeral 80s retro record Stainless Style courtesy of Neon Neon. With Amorphous Androgynous providing a track entitled Mr. Sponge’s Groovy Oscillations, what’s not to love? Long live the obsession.

For more info on the enigma that is Pete Fowler, head to his head-spinning labyrinth of a site equipped with the best soundtrack never released.

It increasingly feels to me that the older you get, the less wonderment the world around you seems to hold. That child-like carefree awe felt towards even the simplest of things seems to slowly seep away, until everything just feels familiar and ordinary. Adventure gives way to experience.

On different levels it’s something we want to fight. Going out with my friends for a night on the town these days, I know that no amount of pints of Fosters or shots of aftershock will recreate the excitement we felt at 17 years old, trying such stuff out for the first time. At University, my friends and I would regularly frequent a house club in Newcastle called Shindig which has left us with memories that will stay with us a lifetime; but after a few years of going, that initial feeling of giddy exhilaration could never be recaptured, no matter how many times we tried to kid ourselves that we could make our next visit “just like the old days.”

Looking across the valley of the Big Chill site

And so it was at this year’s Big Chill Festival where it became apparent the wonderment had disappeared. This was the fourth successive year that me and at least two others had attended the annual event in Eastnor and, while it proved to be a great weekend that was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my year, it was just that, a great weekend. Well worth doing, little doubt it will be replicated next year. But whereas attending music festivals in my late teens would provide a buzz that would remain with me weeks after, this year the sun tan has outlasted it.

I saw some great music, I had a great laugh with my friends, I absolutely adored the chance to lie back in blazing hot sunshine with a can of cider in my hand and allow weeks of stress to fizzle away, but still something was missing which I don’t think can be reclaimed.

And that was the wonderment of the Big Chill. It was the excitement of wandering around a huge site where you’re not quite sure what’s around the corner, the surprise of seeing a groups of people dressed up as the ginger bread men or the amazement at Eastnor’s stunning scenery and dramatic shift at night-time which makes you feel like you’re at two different festivals. This year I guess I knew more than ever what would be round the next corner, that some people would pick the same day to wear daft outfits and that, when it got to the evening, seemingly hundreds of candle powered balloons would be released in the sky. All of this, and more, remains brilliant and utterly appreciated; but if I haven’t yet got to the point where I can call myself a Big Chill veteran, I’m equally no longer a Big Chill child.

As disappointing as this felt, I still returned from this year’s Big Chill largely delighted by the weekend. As it was the festival’s 15^th birthday, an effort was made to improve the strength of the line up which was reflected in increased ticket prices. Basement Jaxx, Orbital and David Byrne took the headline slots and, while there’s been little wrong with previous choices once they got on stage and proved their worth, such moves were aimed at addressing regular criticisms over this apparent weakness in Big Chill line ups.

As we stood through three quarters of Basement Jaxx’s Friday headline slot, it was tempting to question the value of doing so. Basement Jaxx have been around for almost a decade, but their wonderment disappeared long after their first album crossed over to the mainstream and the subsequent series of commercially-minded and largely weak hits. I wouldn’t have entertained the idea of wasting an hour and a half of my life watching them were it not for one of our party insisting they put on a good live show. It’s true that, with a series of dancers and guest vocalists appearing and reappearing on stage to sing different songs, it was visually interesting, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the frankly averageness of their back catalogue and some appalling new songs.  Somehow, despite having no expectation when they came on the stage, I left disappointed.

At least Orbital, on the Saturday night, put on a show worthy of a headline act. Late last year the duo had announced they were reforming to play at the Big Chill, though their eventual Eastor moment was somewhat dampened by the fact they’d already played a series of comeback shows inbetween. Nevertheless they came on stage 10 minutes before they were due, as though they couldn’t wait to get started. Surprisingly playing their better known songs such as ‘Belfast’ and ‘Chime’ early on, it paved the way for a second half set full of their more dancier stuff that had the field rocking. The brilliant ‘Halcyon’, with its Belinda Carlisle and Bon Jovi snippets, burst into full flow and the highlight of the weekend was upon us.

Not that a festival like Big Chill is all about the headline acts though. Over the four days we were fortunate to witness a brilliantly diverse range of  laid back and up tempo music, starting on the opening night with British Sea Power’s re-scoring of the soundtrack to the film ‘Man of Aran’. I’d listened to this album a few times before the festival, and had felt disappointed. Yet one last attempt before we set off down South saw me suddenly ‘get it’ and, seeing BSP perform the music live with the film footage behind put everything firmly into place. BSP capped the night off by ending with ‘The Great Skua’ from their fantastic ‘Do you like rock music?’ album.

The crowd gets down to Friendly Fires

Friday’s highlights included an energetic set from indie dance outfit Friendly Fires, who were/are on the brink of crossing over into mainstream. Fink also impressed with some chilled guitar strumming which included tracks from the enjoyable recent album, ‘Sort of Revolution’. Noah and the Whale were distinctly average, but not in the manner I had expected. In my ignorance I assumed they were something of a novelty, quirky act, but instead they played new songs that suggested a darker, rockier side which nevertheless made little impact. In contrast Caliexco played more soft rock, but equally failed to enthrall.

On the Saturday we enjoyed the more laid back sounds of Hafdis Huld and Emmy the Great. Late at night Lamb and Spiritulized were both mesmerising and epic; particularly the latter from whom each song seemingly lasted 10 minutes but were all the better for the slow introduction and end that retained interest. A highlight on Sunday was rising folk star Andrew Bird, who alternated between playing guitar and the violin; a worthy focus of attention on a lazy day which had begun with stand up comedian Russell Howard.

Who else should be at work right now?

The Big Chill has a harder, more dancier side and it was from the DJs were some of the highlights emanated. On Saturday we enjoyed a typically laid back hip hop set from DJ Format, followed by a DJ named Parker who chose some brilliant tunes but put in some truly appalling mixes when bridging them together. The Nextmen kept the hip hop feel going and, with Krafty Kuts and A-Skillz to come after, it was hard to pull ourselves away for Lamb, Spiritulized and Orbital. Moving to the main stage did lead to an uplifting set from Justin Robertson which had the pre-Orbital crowd rocking.

And it was in the dance music which provided the greatest pleasure. Musically Orbital might have stolen it, but as feeling good goes it was hard to beat dancing like an idiot to Coyote in the Rizla Arena on Friday afternoon, especially when he launched into Underworld’s ‘Bigmouth’.

It felt so good, because this was the ultimate in escapism.

If I wasn’t here dancing in the sunshine of the Big Chill, I’d have been typically sat inside an office working hard with tight deadlines to meet. This truly was leaving everything behind and just enjoying myself in a way not much more mature than when I was child having fun on a playground.

As long as I don’t have to start wearing a tie or properly clean myself in the morning, festivals like The Big Chill will continue to provide such joy, delight and escapism. Wonderment may be forever lost from that list, but a nice tan isn’t a bad substitute.

]]> http://festivalstyle.wordpress.com/2009/09/05/the-big-chill/ Sat, 05 Sep 2009 20:27:18 +0000 twelfthshirt http://festivalstyle.wordpress.com/2009/09/05/the-big-chill/

In its own words, The Big Chill is no longer just a festival; it’s a way of life. One that has become notorious for openly cultivating talents of all sorts particularly within the world of fashion. Well known for its colourful and eclectic culture and the forward-thinking crowd it draws, The Big Chill is positively brimming with unique and diverse fashion.

So concrete is the festival’s stylish reputation, that fashion photographer, publisher and film director Rankin made a point of coming along to set up a mini-studio and photograph 2009’s very own chillers as part of his latest exhibition Rankin Live! Of course when I heard about this I was already practicing my poses in the mirror whilst listening to Madonna’s ‘Vogue’.

True to form the crowd certainly made sure they were ready for their close ups and surpassed expectations in the realms of fashion this year. The 1980s revival that the 2009 chillers were channelling was indeed bang on trend and leading the fashion pack were many a pair of printed leggings and high-top trainers. Others were ramping up their style stakes by sporting over-size slogan tees tucked into high-waisted shorts, teamed with a pair of late eighties/early nineties deck shoes created the perfect daytime look.

Another key day-to-night piece for chillers proved to be the washed-out denim playsuit – simple, yet very effective ladies. This fits perfectly with the NYC retro look, which is absolutely in this season. Accessorise with a fabulous belt, some fringed moccasin pumps, and complete the ensemble with a cute straw hat for comfortable and laid-back festival chic. I guarantee this will see you dancing well into the night with no complaints.

And it wasn’t just the ladies fixing up and looking sharp this time round, with the likes of Basement Jaxx dominating the line up this year, even the boys remembered to keep their wardrobes acid-bright with some creative edge.

Monochrome for once was a definite no-no, thank god. I even spotted some boys wearing luminous red, yellow or blue trousers which, it has to be said, look far better than they sound. Deep and colourful V-necks looked sexy on tanned chests whilst convieniently crossing over the casual-to-smarter borderline, whether they were in the form of jumpers, cardigans, shirts or t-shirts.

Obviously the intention here is not to look like a walking bag of Skittles or try on every look at the same time, but go on, be brave – confident use of colour and retro shapes is a definite head turner – it’s a sure fire way to see you making a play for the fashion lime-light at any upcoming festival.

Originally published in This Festival Feeling

MySpace blog – Wednesday 6 August 2008

For a disconcerting period of time an uneasy relationship has developed between me and new music. For years it’s been one of my biggest interests, but that passion which used to lead to me catching the first train home after been out clubbing until 6am, regularly reading a whole host of music magazines or spending what limited money I had on expensive vinyl has all but ebbed away.

I feel confused. What type of music am I really into? Who would I say is my favourite band or artist? Am I getting old too quickly or have I taken a wrong turn that I can’t put right? It’s become a vicious circle; stop going out to live music as much and you’re not seeing new influences and ideas for the next act to check out; stop listening to specialist radio shows and start believing the style of music you like is running out of ideas; see a festival line up and instantly rule it out on the grounds the acts you have heard of have done something to put you off and the rest are just names which mean little.

When on the second day of this year’s Big Chill Festival one of the stage comperes tried to rile us in the crowd by reading an exert from The Independent’s review of the first day, which stated the festival is “for people who used to be cool”, I realised I was in exactly the right place to find some answers. This was the third straight year I’d attended and the first traces of my music-loving issues could be found just before my first visit.

The line up featured a smattering of acts I knew I’d enjoy seeing, but the majority were unknown until a read of their online biography and visit to their MySpace page. It was a great opportunity to experience not only the tried-and-tested but, been there with two people not suffering the same music issues I am, test if the unknown could still excite and whether my life-long love affair with seeking new music could be given the kiss of life.

The festival began with a trip to the recent past in the shape of the new Rizla dance area and Annie Nightingale. From aged 20-24 I had been hugely into clubbing before it suddenly and unexpectedly stopped been enjoyable. I’ve not been properly clubbing for over two years - just seen some DJ sets at the last two Big Chills - and recently have perplexed one of my best friends with my reasons for refusing to join him on his sudden rebirth of loving it again. Annie Nightingale had been one of those specialist radio DJs who had given me hours of enjoyment and to see her live proved a fantastic moment.

The area was beautiful, with Annie playing in a small camper van overlooking a crowd who at the back were on a raised platform. Ignore the fakeness of the palm trees and, as the sun glared down with hundreds of people going crazy to Annie’s mix of breakbeat and dub-step, it felt like we could have been in Ibiza on the Space terrace. I danced in my undignified-but-having-a-good-time-way and a flood of great memories came back. She even ended with a Prodigy record – the band which first got my into dance music. And it was 4.30pm on Friday and I could have been at work, beautiful.

Then the modern confusion came back as we went to see Roots Manuva. I’ve recently developed a taste for Hip Hop and to see one of the people who helped me make the natural leap to it from breakbeat was exciting. He came on over an hour late and performed a reasonable but flat set which failed to live up to the high expectations I had. Our evening was concluded by seeing a disappointing set from The Orb, which we had sacrificed watching The Thievery Corporation for, and a downtempo performance from Future Loop Foundation that enthralled everyone but me. Only a promising set from Daedelus in the Club Tent stopped me from giving myself up to the old people’s home for past-it music fans there and then.

But there was hope for me. Saturday began with the beautiful Swedish voice of rising star Lykke Li which had me adding her to my mobile phone wishlist of music I need to download. I saw Beth Orton for a second time, the first in Leeds nine years ago had been boring and this was no better, but a lively festival-friendly breaks set from A-Skillz had me back on my feet dancing while trading sips of my can of cider for a jig with someone’s glow stick. It wasn’t enough to get me checking out any breakbeat nights locally, mainly because I’m the only person I know who loves it, but it just maybe, maybe might make me consider a clubbing night out when it’s next offered to me.

Next up was Trentemoller, an act who’s MySpace page had convinced me were worth seeing over Mr Scruff. At last here was a hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck-and-big-beaming-smile-moment to add to my pile of musical highlights. Each song would begin melodically slowly before building up into a full on dance piece, while the supporting visuals added to the entertainment.

This was special. Thank goodness my top ten live music moments of all time has not been completed like I feared, as this was a strong contender.

It rained Sunday afternoon, so we found sanctuary in Media Mix tent where stand up comedians performed – a wonderful mix of clever humour and cringe-worthy awfulness depending on who’s turn it was. In the evening came more wonderful music; first from the Buzzcocks, who attracted a very un-Big Chill mosh pit that was great fun, then an hour and half of blissful crooning from Leonard Cohen.

The Bays ended my Big Chill weekend – and blew me away – for the second year in a row. This time they played with an orchestra to music composed live – no rehearsing, completely improvised. I made my way to the front and proceeded to dance like a loon. I may not see much live music over the next year, but if The Bays manage a tour in the North I’ll be somewhere near the front again.

And that concluded another amazing Big Chill Festival experience. I don’t know if one of the many friendly people I chatted to over the weekend included that journalist from The Independent, but they were describing me. The Big Chill allowed me to rock and rave at different times, lie in the sun and dance in the darkness, a mashed up bloke told me he’d found a shortcut home around some bins and Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz was upset that I didn’t realise who she was, I laughed hard – and I was stung by a bee.

Perhaps it didn’t give me all the answers I wanted, but this is a festival that can be what you want it to be and at the moment that’s perfect for me. I was 22 again dancing like an idiot on the dancefloor, I was 17 rocking in the mosh pit, I was 45 watching an old man sing wise songs about war but most importantly I was 26 years old having a fantastic weekend. I may not get out much these days, but I’ll be back next year.

MySpace blog – Tuesday 7 August 2007

“What’s The Big Chill like?” a work colleague asked me recently. “It’s well…really chilled out.” Predictable response and I wasn’t trying to be funny but, like a certain quick drying garden fence protection product, The Big Chill does exactly what it says on the tin…

Last weekend some friends and I spent the weekend at the annual festival based in Eastnor, Hertfordshire. For four of the six of us, this was our second time at the three-day event, which specialises in music of a more chilled variety. Like I say, it does what the name suggests.

But the chill factor is important, and is undoubtedly the main attraction for most people who go. I’ve been to a few other music festivals; Leeds (twice), Creamfields (three times) and Move. All were brilliant and had bigger names than The Big Chill ever does. Yet the lack of big names is part of the appeal for it allows a different, relaxing vibe.

At the Leeds Festival, for example, a huge crowd turn up and you spend the day as part of a big build up of people watching plenty of bands while waiting for the headliner at the end of the night. Invariably some of the bands at the start of the day are ones you have never heard of and probably won’t grab you.

You usually can’t move positions and leave for a drink or bathroom break. If you do, you won’t be able to get as close again. It means plenty of standing around and, at some festivals, trying to dodge the missiles of beer cups been thrown backwards that contain liquids extracted from somebody rather than for consumption. While it’s enjoyable to stand there and watch bands like this, lying on the grass with the sun beating down and a cold beer (or lukewarm cider!) in your hand, watching performances, is much more enjoyable.

The speed and atmosphere is more laid back. You never feel the need to rush anywhere and there are plenty of other things to see and do other than just watching bands or DJs. Food stalls might be pricey, just like any festival, but the portion size and choice is fantastic. There’s also some art stuff to see, although most is pretentious nonsense that even I could put together. They put a yacht in a lake and told us this was a piece of art. No it wasn’t, it was a bloody yacht.

There are also plenty of weird and wonderful stalls selling things you don’t find in your local shopping centre. My favourite was a guy selling mini candle-powered boats. Put them in your bathtub or take it to your local duck pond and light her up. One candle can power the boat to sail for three miles and the stall included photos sent in, by happy customers, of them enjoying their boat in the tub. I wish I’d bought one.

The crowd is very different to other festivals; certainly the average age is higher. It’s more of a family event with many people in their 30s bringing along their young children to give them a taste of live music. This can seem a bit surreal, drinking and lying back with kids running around you. There is plenty of kids’ entertainment in the children’s area but with all the noise, drinking and ‘funny’ smells that aren’t food; you do still question the sanity of people who bring along their kids.

On the field you see them trying to encourage their children to dance to the music and act all ‘free’. These parents carry a look of bursting pride if their young tot starts to bogey, as though it’s a moment in life as significant as their first word or graduation.

That’s just part of the weird and wonderful crowd who attend. So many people come in fancy dress, either individually or as a group. The Father Ted crowd were my favourite and I also loved The Ramsay Street crew. Two people dressed up as fairies, creeped up behind people sitting down on the field and ‘poked’ them with their fairy sticks before running away. Funny, but you better not try doing that to me…

As for the music, the line up largely presents a list of unfamiliar names. It’s easy to glance over it and think there is little worth seeing. Yet digging a bit deeper, reading up profiles and checking out MySpace pages reveals more who are worth seeing. This year I saw a Macedonian wedding band who provided the soundtrack for the Borat movie. I enjoyed the performance of a rising star called Ben Westbeech, who has clearly listened to a lot of Jamiroquai records. I was entertained by the solo of work of a singer from the Icelandic band GusGus. While Kate Rogers’ cover of Radiohead’s ‘Climbing Up the Walls’ was a hairs-on-back-of-neck moment. Some of the music wasn’t great, but the sun was shining and I had the space to lie back on the grass without fear of a urine-filled cup soaking me.

There also were some big names on show. Issac Hayes dropped by to perform on Sunday, although his undoubted coolness left the impression he wasn’t too bothered about being there. The New Young Pony Club, one of the bands of the moment, played on the second stage on Friday and were amazing. Mika was also due to perform on Friday but cancelled on the morning. The response to this announcement was wild cheers all around the festival site!

At one stage I didn’t want to go to The Big Chill this year. The line up, however much you know isn’t going to be full of big names, still looked weak. Me and my friend Martin, long time fellow club and gig goer and someone whose musical tastes match mine as well as anyone (though we still have plenty of differences) also agreed and, out of our group, we were the least keen to go. In the end the words of others (or bullying from the wife!) persuaded us to go

Martin, low on cash, decided to work as a steward at the event, which meant he received a free ticket, travel and food in return for sacrificing much of his festival time. A good idea in principle, but he did miss some of the best performances due to some long shifts. His job was to guard the art, not that anyone, even someone completely off their head, would have wanted to steal any of it. They had this hut, which had been decorated inside with copies of the Financial Times. That’s art, apparently.

The musical highlights were admittedly in shorter supply than last year. This seemed to come as a surprise to others but I half-expected it after my original doubts over the line up. We did see plenty of good stuff but there were occasional moments when there was nothing to see and, for the most part, the music we saw on Sunday was disappointing. At least the Media Mix tent showed films which meant the wife and sister in law could spend most afternoons watching films they enjoy before meeting us later to see some music.

There were, however, two major highlights. It’s been a long time, probably since seeing Alex Smoke in Leeds three years ago, that I have seen any live music that has blown me away. So I was extremely privileged to have that honour twice in two days. Firstly I finally got to see DJ Yoda play live. He produced an incredible set of Hip-Hop, old classics, dance and a bit of modern rock. All of which was matched up with visuals on the screen of great moments from films and TV shows. How he put it all together I don’t know, but it was incredible. From the moment David Dickinson appeared on the screen to introduce the set I knew we were in for an amazing 90 minutes. I’m no Star Wars fan, but I’m quite sure Yoda never danced in any of the films. How did he get that little green thing to dance about like that on screen?

Then on Sunday I was equally blown away by The Bays‘ performance in the club tent. A group of musicians who never release music and never rehearse; they just get onto stage and improvise together. The result was some amazing dance tracks that will never be heard, or performed, that way again. The talent that oozed out of the four band members left me feeling both enthralled and enraged. How can people be THAT talented? It’s not fair! Still I was so privileged to have witnessed them and was only sorry that I did so by myself. It was the last night and tiredness had forced the rest to retreat back to the tent. There was only Martin around, but he was still guarding his stupid Financial Times hut. So I went straight to the front by myself and danced like an idiot surrounded by like-minded folk

I’m probably in the minority of one, of the four of us who went last year, in having a much better time this year. Last year included lots of good music and, if the quantity was less this year, the quality of The Bays, DJ Yoda, New Young Pony Club and Hexstatic meant it was a festival I will struggle to forget.

So when I go back to work I will be able to confirm that this year’s festival was, in fact, very chilled.

I’ll admit that I never really participated in these kinds of adventures back in the old school days.  But I’m trying to be as much a part of the contemporary community as possible.  So I say thanks to Allison Writes, who has quickly become one of my favorite blogs found through 20-Something Bloggers.  Here we go.

The rules:

1. “The Honest Scrap” award must be shared.
2. The recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves that no one else knows.
3. The recipient has to pass along the award to 10 more bloggers.
4. Those 10 bloggers all have to be notified they have been given this award.
5. Those 10 bloggers should link back to the blog that awarded them.

My ten fun facts, themed accordingly to this blog:

1.  I wake up to NPR, but, if the alarm goes off between 5:48 and 10-something, I immediately bring up Google Chrome and send it to DC101 for Elliot in the Morning.  Even after listening to Elliot and The Class for the better part of the last decade, they’re still the funniest, best way to start the morning.

2.  Amy Grant was the first concert I ever went to – summer of 1995, House of Love tour.

3.  US Weekly is my go-to magazine for celebrity trash, especially if Lindsay Lohan or the Olsen twins are on the cover.

4.  My favorite actress ever is Gracie Allen.

5.  I don’t harbor a great desire to ever meet celebrities, but I would make the exception for Meryl Streep, Sally Field, Kevin Kline, and Tina Fey.

6.  Speaking of Kevin Kline, I don’t usually refer to Topher as my future baby daddy, but as my future Kevin Kline, after the latter’s character in The Big Chill.  I just hope Topher someday marries someone as awesome as Glenn Close’s character.

7.  When depressed, I watch the ER arc wherein Dr. Greene dies or when Sally Field rolls up as Abby’s mom (the depressed half, not the manic half, though those episodes are great, too).  With people who know me well, “watching Dr. Greene dying” is shorthand for crying on my couch and the probability that I won’t stop until someone forces me to.

8.  My goal in life is to collect all of the Sweet Valley books.  Of the over five hundred titles from its various threads, I’m about halfway there.  Mostly, they come free from the for-the-trash pile at the bookstore where I used to work.

9.  I am forever in debt to Kevin Smith for introducing me to Degrassi in its various forms.  Stef and I couldn’t figure out what the hell they were talking about in Chasing Amy, then we could, but didn’t know where to find it, until I was house-sitting one weekend for a house with satellite.  First episode?  Where Sean and Emma go on their first date and she has that awful half-crimped hair.  We’ve been hooked ever since.

10.  About eight years ago, Jason gave me a Ralph Wiggum doll, whose finger can stick to its nose.  I’ve never taken the doll out of my car.  It lives in the backseat, much to the delight of various drunk people and small children.  It’s only rarely that someone doesn’t know who Ralph is, and then that person has to walk home.  I mean, of course I’m not intolerant of other people’s pop culture shortcomings.

Passing this along, in alphabetical order, to:

1.  Blogxgen

2.  Building Beauty Beyond Body

3.  The Confessions of a Lazy Writer

4.  (Dear Diary) Vodka Made Me Do It

5.  Gabby, She Wrote

6.  Girl Out of Bubble

7.  Liner Notes

8.  The Public, the Private, and Everything In Between

9.  The Scholastic Scribe

10.  Who Invented Roses

Wow. That pretty much sums up our feelings about our Big Chill debut, which took place in the early hours of Monday morning in the Amstel Fringe bar. It was one memorable session.

We were lucky with the timings, in that we’d be scheduled to start (and, of course, finish) after almost all the other entertainment areas had kicked out. It meant that as soon as Five-Stylez scratched in the first tune – the Freestylers’ old classic ‘Feel The Panic’ – the place packed out. Within 30 seconds or so we were greeted by a scene of arm-waving, pogoing carnage, with the stupidly talented dance troupe Bird Gang jumping on stage and leading the breakdancing. It was, we can safely say, mindblowing. Even one of the Cuban Brothers got up and did some breakin’!

For the next hour we cut and mixed up a huge volume of tracks, from funk breaks, classic underground disco and dancefloor hip-hop to kwaito funk, glitch and random rock. Almost every tune was greeted by a cheer and another raise of the arms. Again, wow!

We were particularly pleased with the reaction to Coherernt, our MC. He spat some sick verses as ever, hyped the crowd and excelled on ‘Straight Outta Bedmo’, which we were debuting. It sounded fat over that soundsystem, so Stylez was especially pleased with that (having produced, engineered and mixed the beat).

Thanks to all those who came down and joined in the fun. It was great to see so many smiling faces – some familiar, and some not-so-familiar. It made our weekend, to be honest!

We’ll be sticking up a mix in the next couple of weeks inspired by the show, featuring Coherent and some of the specially-prepared versions of tracks we’d done especially for the set. Hopefully we should have some pics soon, but if anyone has some and wants to send up to us to stick in the gallery, get in touch. Oh, and look out for a free track – the killer, end-of-night edit of a very silly rock record that almost tore the roof off!

Thanks again to all those who made it special, and see you on the dancefloor soon

Thumbs Aloft x