UV-TV tap into something familiar yet consistently exciting. Since releasing their first demo in 2015, the New York City power trio, founded by songwriters Rose Vastola and Ian Bernacett in Gainesville, Florida, have developed their DIY punk sound by sharpening their songwriting and bringing more of their melodic and pop sensibilities into the fold. Their growth is palpable across their first two LPs, 2017’s Glass and 2019’s Happy, but the appeal remains largely the same: they might call to mind a number of late-‘80stoearly ‘90s influences, but the nostalgic pull of those reference points doesn’t matter nearly as much as the music itself, which is effortlessly catchy, often thrilling, and pretty much always solid.
Always seems to be the key word here, though UV-TV probably aren’t acknowledging that consistency by naming their third full-length album Always Something. It’s one of those rare albums that’s hard to build a narrative out of, which feels both refreshing and oddly comforting: the gist is that it’s their first LP to be completely written and recorded since the band’s relocation to New York, and the first with drummer Ian Rose as a full-time member. There’s also the fact that it was made against the backdrop of a global pandemic, with a press release stating that the band sought “to recreate the throbbing rhythms, pulsating vibrations and grinding monotony of the day-to-day hustle that existed before Covid.” Indeed, Always Something doesn’t offer a time capsule of early 2020 as much as it captures the sense of malaise and boredom that can pervade our lives beyond this period of imposed isolation.
There’s nothing listless about the way the album sounds though, as the band channels those feelings through kinetic and propulsive power pop. Rose’s drumming is crisp and flavourful throughout, but especially on tracks like ‘Wildflower’, ‘Back to Nowhere’, and ‘Superabound’. Vastola’s voice has an air of disaffection to it, but she’s capable of packing an impressive amount of nuance into her delivery when the song calls for it. Take ‘Plume’, one of the album’s most downbeat and languorous moments, a necessary breather right in the middle of the record; as heavy bass and lethargic acoustic guitar hang around the mix, Vastola carries the track with her affecting, earnest vocals, calling out, “I can’t take it all on my own.” A sweeping electric guitar punctuates the sense of loneliness before the song reaches a gigantic, devastating climax.
Always Something has plenty such moments of pure impact, from the hook-laden ‘Wildflower’ to the shoegaze frenzy of ‘Distant Lullaby’ and the infectious solos on ‘Back to Nowhere’. Even if it lacks some of the raw energy of the band’s previous allbums, it’s an irresistibly fun listen from start to finish, and the production brings a certain amount of richness to the already layered and dynamic performances. With nine tracks clocking in at less than half an hour, if there’s one thing that keeps the album from being remarkable, it’s that it isn’t really trying to be. There’s a pulse to these songs, but not always a ton of heart. Yet there’s always more personality and attitude to UV-TV’s music than almost any other guitar band coasting on those same influences, and that’s certainly something.
In the winter of 2018, Claire George decamped to the woods outside of her hometown in Seattle with the intention of teaching herself audio production and honing her skills as a songwriter. Inspired by the likes of Grimes, Austra, and Purity Ring, the Los Angeles-based artist came out of that retreat with her debut EP, 2018’s ethereal Bodies of Water. Three years later, she’s back with her debut album, The Land Beyond the Light, which sees her expanding her sound, overlaying her evocative vocals against more layers of organic instrumentation, including real bass and guitar, to reflect the very real feelings of grief that sit at the heart of the songs.
Originally conceived as a break-up record, the gravity of the project shifted significantly in the wake of the death of one of her friends and ex-boyfriends to substance abuse. Channeling personal tragedy through the cathartic pull of dance music is nothing new, but George grapples with themes of loss, mental illness, and addiction with bracing vulnerability and a depth of feeling that’s rare in the genre. From the wrenching ‘Northern Lights’ to the strangely comforting ‘Bag of Peaches’, the album flits between youthful memories of the past and the overwhelming weight of the present; George finds flickers of light in the midst of darkness not by concealing it, but by allowing space for both – even when they threaten to drown her out. These songs were written with very specific circumstances in mind, but now that the album is out, they can finally take on a new resonance: “Come on take my hand, I’ll help you out/ I swear I’ll pull you up, I’ll never let you down,” she sings on ‘The Promise’.
We caught up with Claire George for this edition of our Artist Spotlight interview series to talk about her songwriting journey, the events that influenced her debut album, and more.
I noticed you’ve cited a number of artists as some of yourbiggest inspirations, many of which are in the electronic and pop spheres, but at the end of the list you wrote,Fiona Apple (always and forever). Did she have a formative influence on you?
Yes. In fact, when I was like seven, my mom would listen to a lot of pop music when we were in the car and I heard a Fiona Apple song and I was like, “Mom, we have to go to the store and buy this CD.” And I remember going to the CD store, it was the first CD that I ever got, and she was one of the first concerts I went to in early high school. Her lyrics were just so impactful on me and her writing is so powerful and beautiful. And then, actually, during the pandemic I ended up being with my parents for part of the lockdown at the beginning, and her new album came out during that time. My mom doesn’t listen to a lot of new music, but we both got my AirPods, and we each took a pod and we were on a walk in the neighborhood. One of the most joyful moments in that time was getting to listen to the new album from her for the first time with my mom.
I almost can’t imagine listening to that album for the first time with someone else, just because of how raw and intense it is.
[laughs] It’s like, my mom and I, we’re like this [crosses fingers], we’re like twins. But yeah, very intense.
Has your relationship with these artists that had an impact on you early on changed at all, or affected the way you think about songwriting now?
What’s cool about her newest record is that she really took her time and did it in her own space, on her own terms. The way that she made this album was like, she could just record for hours and hours and hours, and what’s special about it is that it doesn’t matter that it wasn’t made in like a big recording studio. It hits just as hard, and that’s something that I, as a new-ish producer and writer, relative to my life – you realize that more of you comes through when you have that kind of time and space in your own head to write and work on stuff without the outside influence.
What role did music and songwriting play early on in your life?
I didn’t write my first song till I was 22, I think. I grew up playing piano classical piano but didn’t stick with it really. In high school I was kind of interested in it again but I never got into a songwriting area, and then in college I was just really into music – it was like the era of the music blog, and I loved curating and making playlists and finding new music and finding new artists and going to shows. But I didn’t actually allow myself to try to make music until after college.
Was there something in particular that drove you to make music?
I was living in San Francisco and I actually studied business in college, and accounting specifically. So I was working in consulting and studying for the CPA exam, which is like the accountant certification, and I was like, “I’m going crazy. I need to do something creative.” When I was little I wanted to be a singer, and then once I moved away – I went to college in LA but then I moved to San Francisco – it just felt like a fresh start and I was like, becoming an adult, I guess. I was like, “What do I want in my life?” And I was like, “I want to do something outside of just working,” and so I joined a band on Craigslist. [laughs] I just met these random people in San Francisco and started a band with them.
At what point did it go from like, “I need to do something creative or I’ll freak out,” to actually wanting to devote more of your time to it?
I think once we started playing shows, I was like, “Oh wow, I want to do this with my life.” Just the feeling of being on stage again and also creating something that was yours, creating something that you could share with other people, and getting that feedback loop after shows. The idea of going on tour and traveling around and meeting all these people, I just knew that was more what I wanted to do with my life.
I read that you went on a retreat around 2018 to flesh out your production skills and hone your songwriting. What led to that decision, and what did you learn from that experience?
Oh my gosh. [laughs] I had a lot of alone time. I was just going through a breakup at the time, the band was not getting along super well, and I was really interested in more electronic sounds. That was right when Grimes was becoming a big deal, and I was like, “I want to do what she’s doing, she can do the whole band herself and it can be the sounds that she wants.” Everything was kind of happening at once. And my parents are up in Seattle, and they don’t spend the winters at that house, so I was like, “I’m gonna go stay in the house by myself and take these classes and learn to produce on my own.” So I went up there and it was wild. I mean, I have never spent so much time alone – I was up there for like a year. But six or seven months of that I was completely by myself in the house that I grew up in. It’s kind of outside of the city and it’s a little bit woodsy, and there would be just days where I wouldn’t see other people, which is probably not healthy, in retrospect. I know myself now, and I’m like, “Okay, you need to be around people.” I do need some solitude when I’m writing, but the intensity of that was just so intense.
Luckily I was taking some production classes online, so I was really invested in that, but it taught me a lot and allowed me to produce my first body of work. But I also learned that I’ll just keep working on something forever and ever and ever, and so my process now is kind of like, I like to write with other people sometimes, but I like mostly to sketch out the ideas myself and then bring somebody on once I’ve hit a wall with that.
How long did you wait to start writing again after you released the first EP?
I was always kind of writing, but some of the songs, even on this record, are pieces of songs that I’ve had since I was living in San Francisco. I’m always trying to write, even as I was releasing this I’ve been trying to keep that going, because I find the longer you wait in between working on things, the more it feels difficult to get over that hurdle of like, you stop and start, and tapping into that.
From what I understand, the story of the album starts with ‘You Don’t Feel the Same’, which is also the opening track on the album and the first song that you wrote for it. When you first wrote the song, did you have any vision of what the album would be like?
Not at all. And honestly, every time I write a song I don’t even know if it’s going to be a part of a body of work. So I actually wrote this song – I was in this relationship, and it was the only song I wrote during the relationship. So there was basically like eight months to a year where I didn’t write a single song – I was working on things, but this is the only song that I wrote start to finish, which is indicative of the relationship. [laughs] I was reckoning with the end of the relationship, and right after I finished that song is when I went through this breakup. I was touring a lot during that time too, which is why I wasn’t writing as much. And that was like the beginning of the process of being like, “Now I have all these feelings coming up, I feel like I can pull something out of me.”
I went on a final tour right after that breakup, and I actually scheduled in a week back at my parents’ house where I wrote the first EP to kind of get my thoughts together and work on stuff, and then in the middle of that tour is when my other ex/friend of mine passed away. So it was like, “Oh, I’m not writing about this anymore, this breakup.” Obviously I didn’t get much writing done that week because I was just, like, crying. That’s kind of when everything else came together for this album, after that, and then we went into lockdown, which was – it was nice to be with my family during that time. I was really lucky to be able to spend time writing with them and just be with them and have a safe space.
Thank you for sharing that. For how long was it like, not just “I’m not writing about this,” but actually, “I’m not sure I can write at all”?
Yeah, I was such a hot mess. That was in November that that happened, and I was on tour and I was at home by myself for a week after that, just in bed basically. And I was really struggling. Really, really struggling. And there was one day in December where I worked on the song ‘Nosebleed Seats’, and then I kind of, like, couldn’t. I was in such a heavy place – and the breakup stuff, obviously I was really upset about that, but this kind of trumped everything and really overtook me. And I probably didn’t start writing until I took a two or three-month break, and then I would try to write but it was just too painful at the time – and still is, obviously, extremely painful. It wasn’t until March or April, I did a couple of sessions with friends, and that was actually helpful for me, because I was able to – when I was just by myself, it was too much for me, but when I had somebody helping with the production I was able to really go back into it.
The album really evokes this conflict between grief and gratitude that comes after loss, which I think also comes through in the contrast between the lyrics and the melodies. How did that personal conflict affect the songwriting process, in terms of figuring out like, “Which direction do I lean in, how do I evoke that”?
Yeah, exactly. And that’s why it’s so challenging, it’s like, “What is the appropriate world for these words to live in?” I’m putting a dance beat behind something very dark and a little bit like masking it in that in some songs. A lot of times when I’m like producing I’m just clicking around on a computer, but with ‘Northern Lights’ I was like, “I just need more movement here.” And I think that words actually come a little bit more easily when there’s a tactile motion to go with them. I wrote ‘Medellín’ on guitar at first, and it was just three chords, basically – it just allows for things to come out more subconsciously. That’s sort of how I worked with ‘Northern Lights’ and ‘Medellín’, like, I need to get on an instrument and shut your brain off, the thinking brain, and just let things come out.
With ‘Northern Lights’, something that really elevates the song is your vocal performance, which is just so striking and vulnerable. Do you remember recording vocals for this track?
That song, I originally tracked it in my bedroom, and was just going all out and like, it was super emotional. And then I was like, “Okay, I want to capture this but record it well.” I was trying to record in studios with people and it was during the pandemic, and I have one friend who has a studio in his house, and I was just like, “Hey, if I get tested a bunch of times and come over a few days in a row and quarantine and everything, can we just do it together?” So he and I tracked most of the vocals for the record in his house. And I remember that song in particular, I sat down in a chair and he had the door closed, and we were both just like, “Oh man, this is intense.” But I was able to get into a headspace and have the time to do vocal take after vocal take and just let it come out. And having him there was also really helpful, to have that feedback and to kind pick out the parts that worked best.
Something I wanted to ask you about is this concept of The Land Beyond the Light that gives the album its title. Could you expand a little bit on that?
I knew that the album was going to be really heavy, and there’s this part of me that wants the music have another side to it. And so I was like, “I’m gonna write a science fiction story that has a different ending to it, that has some hope.” It’s still not done, but I’ve written this story, and it’s like, these creatures that are connected to each other and live in the darkness, but then one of them ends up in this world of color and light. It’s just supposed to be, you know, the idea of hope and keeping the memories of the people we’ve lost after they’re gone and finding the color and the beauty there, and I wanted to have the outcome feel like another world that we could live in.
When did you start to envision this world?
I can’t really remember when I wanted to do this story. It’s something that I thought about early on, but when I was looking to find art to go with the album, I was just reading different artists’ blogs and exploring around the Internet, and I found Linda Westin had posted these images of these trees out in nature, and she would put these different lights on them. She’s a scientist and she studies the brain, and she was trying to emulate the way that neurons work. So when I first saw her artwork, it was visually striking but also just reminded me of my ex in the way that, you know, he’s from Alaska, and spent so much time in nature and worked in nature and was really into science and biology as well. So this just felt like a dedication to him. And when I was looking at the album art, I saw that image and I was like, “Oh, this is illuminating the brain, which is where your memories are, but also when you think about drugs, they affect the brain.” And when I saw that image, it kind of evoked a fantastical view of that, and that’s when I started to think about the story behind it and creating the world.
‘The Land Beyond the Light’ Cover Artwork
On ‘Medellín’, you refer to this idea of a “deeper quieting.” What does that mean to you?
We when someone is gone, we’re just left with the memories of them. And so it’s this strange feeling, because like, even after he passed away, I would dream about him a lot, and he was there and then I would wake up and he wasn’t there. And that’s like throughout the album, this angst of dealing with the grief of having somebody be present with you in this way, but they’re not fully there. And so, coming to terms with that and just experiencing that is so, um… It’s disruptive. And yeah, I just… I think I’m trying to remember this person and track down these memories and keep them in place in the song so that, you know, even if I talk about them or whatever I can tap into this feeling and still be – still have a piece of this person with me.
Have you listened to the album in full since it came out?
I don’t think I’ve listened to it in full in probably four months. I think it’s just difficult to go back and do the whole thing. I kind of want it to be for other people right now. I think making it was for me, and now it’s out in the world and I kind of want to feel what other people are experiencing from it.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity and length.
Whether you’re hoping to break into the competitive world of entertainment journalism or just a die-hard gaming fan with a lot to say, simply being good at games is not enough. To review games of all stripes and to provide value to the community of players, you need to be able to write well and know what you’re talking about.
Reviewing games can be a great way to get more out of a hobby or to launch a highly successful career in the entertainment industry. Being able to write a solid game review that provides genuine value to the reader is often the first step. Here’s how to do it.
1. Consider the Essentials
First up, you need to note down what you’re actually going to discuss in your review. This essentially means the basic specs of the game that your audience will need to know about before they buy. Consider the graphics, sound quality, and any device compatibility issues as a starting point.
Then you can move on to discuss things like plot, controls, replay value, and customisability. After this, you can start to consider the bigger questions, such as where the game you are reviewing fits into the genre, or what a particular game’s release says about the wider industry.
2. Consider Your Audience
Next up, you need to narrow down your audience so that your review has maximum value. Understanding what your audience is looking for will help you avoid filler and focus on the things that matter. For example, a review for an online casino game would have a very different focus to a review for a multiplayer console game.
Online casino players will be looking to learn more about game features such as RTP, progressive jackpots, and slot paylines. To learn more about what such an audience is looking for, you should take the time to look at the site of a well-known online casino gaming platform like Mr Green, which features reviews from users that tell you a lot about what makes a good casino game.
3. Have a Unique Tone of Voice
It is not enough to simply lay out the features of a game. You need to bring a unique tone of voice to your review that tells your audience instantly why you are worth reading. Every successful reviewer has a unique perspective that they are able to bring to the table. Perhaps you have a dry sense of humour that you can apply to the games you review.
Perhaps you prefer to look at the bigger picture and consider how each game fits into a wider cultural canon or industry trend. Whatever your niche, make sure to flaunt it throughout your writing, as this is exactly what will keep your readers coming back for more. Finally, don’t forget to keep your criticisms strictly constructive – make sure to offer recommendations where games appear to have fallen short.
Knowing how to write a good review is more than just a career skill – it is also a way that you can contribute to your fellow community of gamers.
Lily Konigsberg is one-third of the tremendous art-punk trio Palberta. That band just released one of the year’s best albums yet, Palberta5000, but that still wasn’t enough for Konigsberg. The prolific and enigmatic artist has been posting solo material on Bandcamp throughout her time in Palberta, and this new compilation, the wryly titled The Best of Lily Konigsberg Right Now, collates some of her finest work while working alone. There are songs from 2018’s 4 picture tear, 2020’s It’s Just Like All the Clouds, and 2017’s Good Time Now, a split release with Andrea Schiavelli; there are songs that will be familiar to fans, as well as unreleased tracks and demos (‘Big Tall Grass’ and ‘Opening the Day’).
The entire compilation is a masterclass in fast and cheerful indie-pop, the sort that could have soundtracked a Mumblecore film or an early season episode of Girls. It’s quirky (just look at the name of some of the songs, such as ‘Waterfall Snake Juice’) but it’s also earnest (‘Summer in the City’), Konigsberg wonderfully capturing the excitement of being 20-something and trying to make it in the world. The New York singer-songwriter has spoken of her desire to write songs that get stuck in people’s heads for the rest of their lives and she mostly achieves this aim. Befitting of a member of Palberta, the 17 tracks are all memorable and light, endearingly infectious.
The first song, ‘Owe Me’, is the most overtly poppy, as it finds Konigsberg sounding like a Robyn acolyte. ‘To Hold It’, ‘At Best a #3’, ‘I Said’, and ‘Roses’ are then perfectly capsuled indie-pop (Frankie Cosmos would perhaps be too easy a comparison, but their stylistic similarities are evident). The production shows neat touches elsewhere. A cappella vocal loops carry ‘Rock and Sin’ before an attempt at electropop on’ It’s Just Like All the Clouds’ features a tetchy AutoTuned vocal. Bird noises fill the soothing and smooth ‘Talk to Me w. Birds’, while decadent horns splutter throughout ‘Good Time’.
Perhaps, given the success of Palberta’s latest album, Konigsberg envisions not having as much time for solo endeavours in the upcoming year or so; perhaps this is why she’s released this compilation just now. At the end of ‘Owe Me’, there’s a cute self-conscious moment: “And thank you all for coming to my show,” Konigsberg says as an imaginary audience claps, “If you didn’t know now you certainly know.” If this is The Best of Lily Konigsberg Right Now, I can’t wait to hear The Best of Lily Konigsberg Later.
Two years ago, black midi captured the attention of virtually everyone interested in rock music of the more adventurous variety with their ferocious, boundary-pushing debut, Schlagenheim. No matter how challenging their eclectic blend of freeform jazz, prog-rock, and post-punk could be, there was something undeniably exhilarating and raw about the way they presented it – even if one might have occasionally (and understandably) felt their music teetered on self-indulgence, it was almost impossible not to be captivated by its wild twists and turns. For all its uncompromising force, what Schlagenheim potentially lacked was not accessibility, but staying power; though it imprinted itself on your brain, that initial thrill diminished upon repeated listens. Cavalcade is different.
Make no mistake: the London art-rockers don’t sacrifice one bit of their chaotic ethos on their sophomore full-length, but their focus does shift significantly. Though as restless and unpredictable as its predecessor, Cavalcade shows a band willing to introduce more structure and atmosphere into their normally improvisational style, though it’s not its harmonic elements that stand out as much as the music’s intentionality and nuance. Their debut wasn’t entirely devoid of quieter, more composed moments, but compared to something like ‘Reggae’ or ‘Of Schlagenheim’, Cavalcade’s ‘Diamond Stuff’ seems less concerned with quickly ratcheting up tension or catching the listener off guard than the simple but delicate act of building mood. One of two songs fronted by bassist Cameron Picton, the second longest track on the album starts off with two minutes of spare acoustic guitar, each slight fluctuation in intensity adding to the song’s volatile, foreboding ambiance before gently rising to a cosmic, downright haunting outro.
The album’s other astonishing centerpiece, which comes right before ‘Diamond Stuff’ and is also led by Picton, is the deceptively titled ‘Slow’. As ominous as it is hyperactive, the track veers off in a dozen different directions, balancing technical precision with a propulsive edge and ultimately erupting in a whirlwind of frantic guitars and screeching saxophone. Opener ‘John L’ takes this approach to maddening extremes: it’s purposefully disorienting and dissonant, yet performed in such a way where the abrasion becomes infectious. The notable addition of piano and strings, as well a greater experimentation with space, hints at the heightened theatricality that defines the album. ‘John L’, for example, finds guitarist and frontman Geordie Greep embodying the cult leader that gives the song its title to eerie effect: “In all the world there’s no escape from this infernal din,” he declares. Though his delivery is bound to be no less divisive than it was on Schlagenheim, here it blends into the cacophony rather than serving as a distraction.
Cavalcade does have some unusually straightforward moments, but in “relentlessly trying to untie our knots, of rivers and roads that defy all sense,” as Greep sings on the gentle ‘Marlene Dietrich’, the music only becomes more complex and elusive. Even the orchestral coda at the end of the 10-minute closer, ‘Ascending Forth’, isn’t satisfying so much as it warrants a perplexed laugh (to say nothing of the song’s main double entendre). By adopting a more compositional and vaguely conceptual approach, black midi have only enhanced the absurdist sense of humour that has always pervaded their music. They’re also less lyrically clumsy than some of their post-punk peers, so none of it comes off as overly portentous or contrived. But there is still a mysterious aura surrounding the collective, one that’s reflected in the album’s knotty, ambiguous arrangements, and that near-cynical distance might eventually become tedious if it drags out to another album cycle. It remains to be seen, after this grand finale, whether they’ll offer a peek behind the curtain.
MMORPGs are known to be the pioneers of online games and since the very beginning of it all, this genre has managed to stay in popularity to this day. There are now more MMORPGs than one can possibly play and the competition to stay at the top of the table never seems to fade away.
And while there are plenty of titles to choose from, World of Warcraft and Final Fantasy XIV remains to be one of the hot topics debate as to which title is better than the other.
So, in this short article, we are going to go over some of the main features from each of these titles that define the MMORPG genre and let you be the judge of it!
Quests
One of the things that define the MMORPG genre are the quests. While, both the WoW and FFXIV brings awesome new quests to the players, FFXIV seems to take it a bit higher with the storytelling and the narrative.
The quests to earn FFXIV Gil or polish your skills are more immersive in Final Fantasy XIV and require the players to be more invested in the game with all the beautifully laid cut-scenes to make you part of the quest. While, World of Warcraft is exceptional in coming up with some great quests, I think it somehow lacks the ability to make the player, a part of the quest.
Player vs Player
While World of Warcraft does have its own flaws when it comes to balancing and whatnot, it still remains to be one of the best titles when it comes to player vs player combat. WoW’s PVP combat system lets you be more creative in this regard while also being not-so-complex for the new players, or if you want to skip the “new player” phase, you can buy WoW account and start dominating right away.
Now, FFXIV still has a long run to go when it comes to PVP combat as they’ve made certain changes to it. But recently more players are coming in to join the PVP action as we hope to see something great from Square Enix.
Combat
Of course, the most important part of any MMORPG is the combat system. Now here, things get interesting as both of these titles have great combat system but the main difference that you’d see in both games is attack cool down. World of Warcraft has a very paced attack system which allows players to register more attacks.
While in FFXIV, there a higher cooldown timer which lets you be more strategic with your approach as it slows down attacks from sides and it is also comparatively more complex than the WoW’s battle system, so much so that sometimes you would end up needing help from professional players to get you through.
PVE Content
Many of the players have moved from WoW to FFXIV because of its mythic content, that is actually well developed and deep. And for some the singular fights with bosses are far more better than the hectic boss fights in World of Warcraft.
While, both these titles are truly different in what they offer to the players, there is certainly no title better than the other as both offer player with different MMO experience based on the player’s own preference, which is what it all boils down to at the end of the day.
In the modern age, there seems to be very few things that can be considered cultural mainstays. For instance, the British high street has been left in tatters with the move to e-commerce providers such as Amazon, but there are some forms of entertainment that can still be considered a key part of British culture. Bingo is one such game that has continued to manifest itself in modern society for a variety of reasons, and thanks to certain social groups.
One rather major way in which bingo has continued to form a key part of the fabric of the society has been through its seemingly constant reinvention, which has only been accelerated through technological advances. The move towards online bingo, for example, is one that has signalled a change in the type of players that are attracted to bingo, even with it being a timeless game. More younger people are now choosing to play bingo as it moves to an online space. This could be due to the fact that younger people are considered to be more like digital natives and, therefore, will be more attracted to online forms than those who are a tad older. In addition, the move to the online space has given bingo a fair amount of creative freedom, as experienced by the simple point that online bingo can take many different forms and themes, given the creative potential that game designers have in the 21st century.
Another way in which the principle of bingo has been able to continue being relevant in modern society is the fact that the imagery of bingo, with its bright colours and motifs, still remains a key part of the playing experience – although in a slightly different way than perhaps first expected. Within the online space, it could be argued that the bright and primary colours traditionally associated with bingo have been replaced by the more sleek and modern themes of bingo games available, as well as the hybrid games that various providers also offer. However, in a more physical setting, the game’s classic appearance has still been of paramount importance, with regards to bingo halls in trendy areas such as Camden being packed solid with eye-catching designs and bright colours.
This move for bingo into areas such as Camden, with the player base, as The Guardian has noted becoming more “hipster”, signals a wider change in social culture. The last two or three decades have seen the resurgence of hipster culture, or, in other words, those who form part of a subculture of younger people who follow trends, but those that fall outside of mainstream culture. In this instance, the resurgence of bingo in a modern sense could in part be attributed to hipsters, thanks to the fact it traditionally fell outside of mainstream culture. Because of this, bingo halls saw a notable period of closure in the late nineties which, in part, fuelled the move online in the first place.
As a result of such changes, it, therefore, makes sense that bingo can still be considered a proper British pastime, especially thanks to the different types of games and indeed the ways in which it is played. The twenty first century has certainly left the game in a better place than it was before, and arguably in the best position it’s been in for decades.
Netflix have unveiled the second season trailer for Mortel, a French-produced supernatural series starring Carl Malapa as Sofiane, Nemo Schiffman as Victor, Manon Bresch as Luisa, and Corentin Fila as Obé. Upon its first season release, the series received a mixed bag of reviews, Decider’s Joel Keller stated “the first episode is so muddled that it didn’t make us want to watch a second one.”
Mortel follows Sofiane, Victor, and Luisa, the trio of the series, who are empowered by a voodoo spirit. They go on a quest to find the person responsible for killing Sofiane’s brother.
“I just became too blue to function,” admits Billie Marten, opening up about losing her sense of self following the release of her sophomore album Feeding Seahorses by Hand in 2019. Her new record, then, is testament to a recovery and rediscovery of identity. On Flora Fauna, the indie folk artist delicately renounces the modest songwriting that had branded her as “soft” and welcomes a period of lyrical and instrumental experimentation. Much of the darker, crisper sound that Flora Fauna accommodates can be accredited to Marten’s drunken purchase of a bass, which serves as the backbone of her new music. A sense of freedom and unrestrained growth permeates the record, perhaps the result of Marten leaving Sony and surrounding herself with a management team that brings her comfort alongside creative collaboration. It’s invigorating to witness the singer’s sharper, more assertive side on the polished LP.
Social commentary is cleverly woven into the half-hour album, starting with the opening track ‘Garden of Eden’. The instrumentals are immediately striking, brimming with a stern and dangerous energy, not least thanks to the infiltrating bass. The intensity and sense of anticipation ingrained in the verses mirror the track’s critical assessment of hustle culture and modern competitiveness without stopping to smell the roses: “Competition for the space/ Nature of the human race.” The plucked guitar strings transform into joyous chords, though, as Marten’s voice slides into a breezy, uplifting chorus, introducing the listener to an underlying truth: there is little predetermined about Flaura Fauna.
On her standout track ‘Human Replacement’, Marten channels her anger at the world again, regretting the universal fear women feel in public spaces at night – a topic tragically relevant in the aftermath of Sarah Everard’s death.“You’re just not safe in the evening,” she laments, with drums feeding the punchy sound. Reclamation of space is central to the song, however, as we’re urged to “picture a fix” to the overwhelming problem with guidance from the accompanying music video, in which Marten uses a tank to commute to the grocery store, purchasing milk clad in heavy combat gear. The subtle power of the song is augmented by these visuals, creating a charmingly ridiculous caricature of our patriarchal society.
Elsewhere, ‘Liquid Love’ sees the artist take a breather from weighty critique, with the opening noises, reminiscent of an old-school video game, forecasting a lighthearted tone. Looped vocals and synth cocoon the listener in a delightful tipsiness and, sprinkled with Marten’s hypnotic vocals, the track feels close to cleansing. A decidedly upbeat sound is similarly drawn out on ‘Ruin’, with the simple strumming pattern complementing the major key and translating into a plodding, country-like piece. The careless tone slowly draws you in, only for the chorus to surprise with a denser guitar riff and darker lyrics. “Oh, God, a natural fight/ Give me a garden mind,” Marten begs, hoping to repel the intrusive thoughts that visit her, aware they serve only as stifling instruments in her personal journey.
The singer spells out her discontent with an increasingly commercialised and materialistic world on ‘Pigeon’, disclosing in silky tones: “I am sick of branding and one legged pigeons/ They have no ideas to our sour position/ Another day on modern Earth.” It is this track that encapsulates the idea at the heart of the album: an urgency to flee the suffocating requirements imposed on us by an unforgiving capitalist world and re-evaluate our fundamental values. Perhaps paradoxically, given the fatigue and anger at the roots of the piece, its soothing harmonies and minimal production provide a hovering sense of comfort.
Marten shrewdly juxtaposes demoralising city life with enchanting natural imagery throughout the album. Playful strings enrich the harmonised hums in ‘Kill the Clown’ as the artist grapples with exhausting routines, chanting, “After all, I am not a baby doll/ I’ve got bills to pay and they never go away.” It all comes full circle on ‘Aquarium’, in which Marten speaks of gardens as a place where she is “cradled from the chaos,” elegantly echoing the longing for a “garden of eternal sunshine” in the opening track. The gentle maracas and guitar keep the dreamy if slightly poorly enunciated vocals afloat, feeding the traces of nostalgia and pain laid bare in the song. An honest depiction of dependency and a yearning for connection, ‘Aquarium’ gently rounds off the album.
Maintaining the staple minimalism that magnetically drew in her early listeners, this collection of songs seems to be more alive, as Billie Marten confidently ventures into new territory rooted in bulkier instrumentals and a sense of excitement. Demonstrating that power and tenderness are not mutually exclusive, her evolved sound on Flora Fauna is witness to the artist’s retrieved lust for life, hinting at a promising, colourful musical future.
We are proud to announce that we will be running our first annual film festival from the 22nd of August to the 22nd of September. We founded the festival to celebrate filmmakers that create excellently made short films.
For the first year, the festival will run online on a new platform that will launch on the opening day of the festival. All selected films will be free to stream for 30 days. Two awards will be given on the final day, the People’s Choice award and the Jury award; both will include a £100 prize. As part of the Jury award, we will also interview the director on Our Culture.
The deadline to submit films is the 31st of July, 2021.
