Saturday, 30 August 2008

British Sea Power say they like to kill Jim Davidson

British Sea Power have joked that if they won the Nationwide Music Prize, for which they are nominated for their album 'Do You Like Rock Music?', they would spend the money on killing Jim Davidson.


Speaking to Orange.co.uk, guitarist Martin Noble said that they would hire a contract killer to remainder the life of the right-wing comedian.


"If we south Korean won �25,000, I'd get under one's skin a abridge killer and send him after Jim Davidson," he said.


Frontman Yan Wilkinson added that the nomination was a surprise to him.


"I'm not sure wherefore it's got more attention, this album," he said. "We induce been splintering away at this old block for a few years, so I reckon it's unforgiving chipping that's got us here."


He added: "A circle of people keep expression what an English record album it is. It was mostly recorded in Montreal and the Czech Republic, so that's peculiar."



Oct 2, 2008 at Corn Exchange, Brighton -

Oct 3, 2008 at University, Southampton -

Oct 5, 2008 at Junction, Cambridge -

More British Sea Power tickets




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Wednesday, 20 August 2008

TV review: Ricky Gervais, the tragic king of comedy

It's tragic that the glittering jubilation of international sporting art and drugs designed to disappear without trace into the blood stream is decreased, for this viewer at least, into a petty annoyance.



The one thing that I'm earnestly committed to on television is Coronation Street, and clearly I'm not supposed to intellect at all that instead of sightedness what happens to a large radical of often unappealing, generally doomed people, I have to watch human bodies being forced to start higher and run faster than our good almighty designed them to.


Instead of the comfort of observation bodies wish Ken Barlow's, the midsection of which has become increasingly like those bolsters that the French use instead of pillows, one is forced to depend at youth at its most yucky perfection.


So I boycotted the live orifice ceremony of the Olympics. To rephrase that, I didn't get around to getting up in the middle of the night to watch it, and for the next 2 weeks I'm considering boycotting TV One whenever possible as well, unless it's the finals of the 100 metres, because my sporting attending span hindquarters cope with that one.


I began my gesture of supreme defiance on Saturday night by watching the Extras Christmas Special, or as it should be known here given how long it took for us to see it, the Extras Matariki Special.


I wanted a laugh and counted on Ricky Gervais to give me one.


Wrong. I didn't get many laughs out of the Extras Christmas Special. Instead I had all the other reactions that unspoilt comedy extricates from the viewer�- my toes curled, my skin crept, and I felt overwhelming sadness.


I really admired Gervais for what he attempted to do�- so succeeded in doing�- with this special, which was to demonstrate the base downside of success.


Anyone byzantine in the arts world�- and, to keep to the Olympics theme, the sporting world�- knows how it's often easier to enjoy someone's failure than their success. A small amount of success is fine, as long as it's non too much.


There's that sometimes irrational feeling that person else's success means that there is less to go about for others.


While some hoi polloi deal with personal success with a self-deprecation and grace that allow others to observe for them, in many cases the lack of generosity of others means the achiever becomes both emotionally guarded and lonely.


As the obsession with the lives of celebrities shows, celebrities hang out with other celebrities. What is often not shown is that on that point is a ruthless pecking order and today's celebrity might substantially not be recognised by his ex-peers when things turn tough.


In both of his tremendously successful television series�- The Office and Extras�- Gervais plays a character world Health Organization is identical difficult to like.


At least in The Office you can dislike his part but at the same time feel sympathy for his agonising awfulness.


Not so in Extras, where Gervais' character, Andy Millman, doesn't seem to have a decent side at all�- it's just his lunaria annua (hideous in its unfeelingness) that could possibly redeem him.


We get together him this time when he's had a double-edged success in an frightful sitcom for which he's obliged to wear a bad wig, talk in a high-pitched annoying voice and, worst of all, say his catch-phrase, "Are you having a laugh?" at least once every episode.


Andy Millman knows that his 15 minutes are bittersweet ones. In honest Gervais dash, he sets out not to have the topper of them, but to make the worst.


His best friend Maggie is the first to suffer. He'd cheerfully dump her if he didn't need a reasonably personable companion at the restaurants that today find him a seat even on the busiest of nights.


He moves on from his hopeless handler, treats the extras, world Health Organization are inquisitory for the opportunity that he himself got, with utmost filth, and treats his fans with barely disguised disdain.


The whole time his haunted eyes show he knows all this will be over about before it began.


I do love Maggie. She's the star of this special, just honeyed enough, simply bewildered enough.


The scene in which the leading man in the show she's an extra in refuses to set aside her to play the part of a whore, because even his character wouldn't be desperate enough to sleep with someone who looked like her, is one of the cruellest I've seen on television and her reply was brilliant�- once you're at the bottom, there's nothing much anyone bathroom do to make it worse.


This very was a programme which made you examine very closely what being a celebrity is all about.


It ran in perfect parallel with Paris Hilton's effort at quizzical herself by running for president, asking Americans to vote for her not because she's got a policy, or even a brain, just because she's "hot".


How canful Hilton trick about herself when she's such a joke already? And worst of all, how lavatory she get so much attention for doing it?


It just goes to show how a good deal she needs us to like her. And if we can't like her, then we can do the following best thing�- recognise her.


Perhaps after all, I will watch the Olympics. My refusal to countenance it makes me feel depressingly joyless. At least in its own way it's good clean fun, and the people involved in the races have worked hard.


Though none of them will of all time get the instant facial expression recognition that Paris has, they've earned what attention we do give them.


And it's non as if there's any competition for our care on other channels�- none will be showing anything anywhere nigh the equal of Saturday night's fell, cold comedy. This was Gervais beingness Paris Hilton's polar opposite.


This isn't comedy that has you waiting for a punchline, wiping away the tears of mirth as someone slips on a banana skin. This is comedy that has a freezing hand which clamps down on your heart.


This is funniness just a hair's largeness away from tragedy. This is funniness of the best sort.


But, oh dear. I think with Wellington slipping easy down its saturated hills, I'd rather have had a laugh.


*What did you think of the Extras Christmas Special? Post your comments below.






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Sunday, 10 August 2008

A day in the life of the Jonas Brothers

Yesterday the Herald�s Lauren Carter washed-out the day with tween band maven the Jonas Brothers. First they gave a press conference, so they toured Boston on a duck boat in front heading turned to headline last night�s show at the Comcast Center in Mansfield. Here�s what happened.


Today I�ll be living the dream - the dream of a Jonas Brothers fan, that is. Starting at midday, I�ll be spending the day with Nick, 15, Joe, 18, and Kevin, 20, as they make the rounds in Boston before their concert. I�m not sure what�s involved beyond a press group discussion at a swank hotel, a ride on a duck gravy boat, backstage entree at the venue and hordes of screaming girls. I�m speculative: Will on that point be bodyguards present as we chill with the trio?


The iron out conference




The boys greeted the media just after high noon, looking casually hip in skinny jeans and T-shirts. They talked about their long drive from Baltimore on Wednesday, wanting to be �a positive light in the world� and the �crazy ideas� - pyrotechnics, lifts and the like - they�re incorporating into this tour in support of their new CD, �A Little Bit Longer,� which drops Tuesday.


Oh, yeah: They love to play golf game, but don�t love waking up at 7:30 a.m. to do it. They�d like to get into more writing and producing, which they�ve started to do for Disney isaac M. Singer Demi Lovato, the opener on their tour. And they�re still, as eldest brother Kevin says, �kind of aghast every day� by the level of fame they�ve achieved.


The frenzy


No mobs of teenage girls followed as we toured Boston on the Duck Boats, only a minifrenzy did flare outside the Ritz-Carlton hotel. Girls are screaming �Oh! My! God!,� snapping pictures and clamouring for autographs, which the brothers promptly provide.


The Duck Tour


I learned more around Boston than I did about the brothers: The boys were seated in a backside VIP section with their band. Their 7--year-old brother, Frankie (a budding star topology in his own right; he already has his own band, Hollywood Shakeup), got to drive. Yes, there was a bodyguard. He was exactly as I pictured him: bald-headed, massive and intimidating. Understandable. But even being allowed this far inside the Jonas reality still leaves me feeling like an outsider. It would be cool to have a conversation with one of the brothers that didn�t involve a spotlight and a microphone.


Duck boat hitch over, we�re now headed to the venue - no, non on the tour busbar with the boys, just in a press vanguard following close behind. The plan: some words from the boy�s dad, Kevin Jonas Sr., and perhaps more face time with the bros before the show.


The main event


I didn�t get to talk with Kevin Sr. once we made it to Comcast. I did, however, look on the boys tape a Burger King commercial, and later, chat with about 300 uber-excited fans at a meet-and-greet.


Once the three took the stage, the ultra-deafening screams set in (as opposed to the deafening screams earlier). Not that the brothers weren�t rolling heavy on past tours, simply they take a few new tricks up their sleeves this time around: a string section, lasers, pyrotechnics, multiple lifts and foam guns.


The flaming, string-heavy entrance for opener �That�s Just the Way We Roll� seemed a bit epic for a tween pop-rock show. Nevertheless, the boys and their backup outfit chugged easily through hits off their first two albums as advantageously as the forthcoming third disc, �A Little Bit Longer,� including �Goodnight and Goodbye,� the always sport �Year 3000� and �Burnin� Up.�


Having worked their way up from half-empty clubs to sold-out arenas, each JoBro has had the chance to carve extinct his have niche. Young Nick is the solemn hard worker, too fussy multitasking to smile, Kevin is the carefree spirit who inactive gets the job done, while Joe is the feathery-haired rock star wHO struts around the stage and sings, shakes a tambourine and avoids touch outstretched custody, though he did bring a tiddler onstage to sing the end of �Gotta Find You.�


The Jonas aesthetic is still estimable clean playfulness, but sometimes it merely feels as if there�s a little too much squeak involved, as if every movement is well-timed rather than genuine.





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