In this new segment, film critic Elias Michael takes us through his weekly film picks. He’ll offer up his selection, where you can watch them, and why you might want to take a look.
It’s been an interesting few weeks for film. We’ve seen the hype, discourse, and aftermath of the Academy Awards; Knives Out 2 has started announcing its cast; and films new and old come and go from our favourite streaming giants. Join me as I talk about some of my recent viewings, and why you might want to check them out as well.
Nomadland – Disney+
Frances McDormand stars in Chloe Zhao’s Oscar-winning Nomadland.
Starting off this month with the Best Picture winner, Nomadland follows Fern (Frances McDormand) travelling around the United States after the death of her husband and the closure of the sole industry that kept her hometown afloat. While working various jobs, Fern meets other ‘nomads’, a community of people who live out of their vans and never settle in one area. Ultimately, Nomadland is about humanity, the people you surround yourself with, and the kindness they can offer. The film conveys the struggles of post-recession America but never gets bogged down in overt politics; though it does pick apart the understated and sometimes awkward ideas of prescribed modes of living. Side note: every film needs to have a Ludovico Einaudi score. 4/5
Saving Private Ryan – Sky Movies
Tom Hanks leads a tour-de-force in Saving Private Ryan.
Saving Private Ryan is Spielberg at his peak. Upon hearing the news that three of the four sons of the Ryan family were killed in action, General George C. Marshall orders the safe return of the sole living brother – James Francis Ryan. Three days after a horrific battle on Omaha Beach, John H. Miller (Tom Hanks) leads several members of his company to go out and find Ryan and bring him home. Along the way, they struggle with the fight against the enemy and amongst themselves, questioning if risking their lives is worth it for just one man. Saving Private Ryan is truly one of the greats. The famously overwhelming opening immediately slams the viewer with the horrors of war. The film’s technical prowess is staggering, not least because many WW2 veterans have attested that the film is the most realistic depiction of combat they have seen. The rest of the film follows the individuals who endure the combat, exploring their backgrounds and reactions to the bloodshed that unfolds around them. This powerful experience is truly a must-see, so please add it to the top of your watchlist and make sure you have a strong stomach. 4.5/5
The Mitchells vs. The Machines – Netflix
Striking colour abounds in The Mitchells vs. The Machines.
If you’re looking for a fun, energetic, and hilarious family movie, look no further than The Mitchells vs. The Machines. The incredibly talented Lord and Miller (The Lego Movie, the Jump Street films, and Into the Spider-Verse), alongside director Mike Rianda and writer Jeff Rowe, have brought the world a charming and imaginative story of a dysfunctional family who are the last hope to save humanity from a robot uprising. We follow the daughter, Katie (Abbi Jacobson), an aspiring filmmaker who has just been accepted into film school. Although she is excited to finally mix with people who ‘get her’, her father (Danny McBride) wants to fix their strained relationship by taking the family on a cross-country road trip as a last bonding experience. However, on their journey, they have to learn to work as a team to take down an AI system led by PAL (Olivia Coleman), who is planning to send all humans into space. Helped by a fantastic supporting cast, this animated roller coaster captures a heart-felt father-daughter story with dazzling, fast-moving animation and palpable energy. 4/5
October Sky – Amazon Prime
Chris Cooper and Jake Gyllenhaal star in October Sky.
October Sky is a delightful coming-of-age film that follows Homer Hickam (Jake Gyllenhaal), a young teenager who, upon seeing the launch of ‘Sputnik 1’ in 1957, begins to have big dreams of space and rockets. Troubled by constant pressure from his father (Chris Cooper) to work in the mines instead, Homer fights through the norms set by his surrounding; he teams up with the math ‘geek’ Quentin (Chris Owen) and his friends (William Lee Scott & Chad Lundberg) as they begin to construct small rockets with support from their teacher (Laura Dern). Set at the start of the Space Race, October Sky separates itself from the scaremongering that Americans felt when the satellite was launched and differs from Cold War espionage films. Rather, it focuses on the beauty and fascination of space travel and the curiosity that humans naturally have – all through the innocent eyes of our main character. October Sky is a very pleasant watch. 4/5
Bringing more cinema to their service, Netflix have unveiled a short 52-second teaser trailer for their upcoming project A Classic Horror Story. Whilst the teaser doesn’t give much away, Netflix has put this description behind it “Music for children, an abandoned house, five strangers: it looks like the classic horror movie and instead…”
A Classic Horror Story current known cast includes Matilda Anna Ingrid Lutz, Francesco Russo, Peppino Mazzotta, Will Merrick, Yuliia Sobol and more. The film is directed by Roberto De Feo, who is known for directing The Nest (2019) and Paolo Strippoli, whose previous works include short films such as Nessun Dorma (2018) and Senza tenere premuto (2019).
Netflix is currently trading at $497.89 on NASDAQ.
A Classic Horror Story will be available from the 14th of July, only on Netflix.
Watch the teaser trailer for A Classic Horror Story below.
The title of BABii’s debut album, 2019’s HiiDE, might at first have seemed like a contradiction. The Margate-based artist arrived with a more fully realized sound and style than most: beyond showcasing her lowercase i-loving aesthetic, the album presented a captivating mix of icy instrumentals, whispery vocals, and the occasional hints of maximalism that would explain her longstanding collaborative relationship with Iglooghost and Kai Whiston. The title might have also alluded to the overarching theme of keeping secrets in a dying relationship, but BABii, whose real name is Daisy Emily Warne, did more than hide behind those futuristic soundscapes; what set her music apart was the kind of emotional vulnerability and poetic earnestness that shone through on intimate moments like ‘STRAY’ and ‘POiiSON’. But there was also a sense that the album’s polished exterior and overall reserved nature served as a sort of protective shield; a sense that she was holding something back.
That doesn’t seem to be the case on her sophomore full-length, MiiRROR, which follows her 2020 EP iii+. Filling out the gaps left by its predecessor, she sets out to convey the full scope of her ambition and establish herself as a dynamic creative force in her own right, not just as a collaborator (in addition to releasing the exhilarating XYZ as part of the GLOO collective with Iglooghost and Kai Whiston in 2019, she also had a hand in Iglooghost’s own sophomore LP Lei Line Eon). Both musically and conceptually, MiiRROR is a step above HiiDE, accompanied by a book, alternate reality game, and audiovisual show immersing the listener in an expansive narrative world that’s rooted in fantasy as much as self-reflection; BABii digs through the wasteland of childhood memory to find it’s filled with imaginary beings – be it majestic dragons or inner demons that never really left – as well as things one might find in a junkyard – strange artefacts, broken glass.
All of these feature in the video for ‘DRiiFT’, the album’s standout opening track, which takes the vague feeling that “something’s missing” and twists it until it cuts to the core. While a sense of anxiety burbled beneath the surface on HiiDE, here its presence becomes jarring, almost ear-shattering. This is where the album, like so many others of its kind, could have crumbled under its own weight, losing sight of the emotional resonance that made BABii’s music unique in the first place. Indeed, the original idea was to have the project be an all-too-literal representation of a mirror by splitting it in half, one side reflecting darkness and the other light. And to an extent, that duality is still present: following ‘DRiiFT’ is the soft, airy ‘BRUiiSE’, which has none of that abrasive energy, while ‘SHADOW’ is the closest she’s come to exuding the confidence of a pop song.
But the album’s strongest moments are those where BABii embodies those chaotic contradictions within a single song, letting them clash against each other in a confined space. When she collaborates with Iglooghost and umru on ‘WASTE’ and ‘HUNTED’ respectively, the experimental textures they help provide hint at the full complexity of the fractured soul she sings about on ‘DRiiFT’. But it’s on the record’s longest and most daring track, the penultimate ‘VOiiD’, that BABii finally sinks into that abyss, and the result – a 9-minute odyssey punctuated by foreboding synths and hypnotic vocals – is utterly mesmerizing. On the other end of that lack, of course, is ‘MOTHER’.
Where BABii’s debut album focused on the dissolution of a romantic relationship, MiiRROR fixates on her difficult, on-and-off relationship with maternal figures and the absence they’ve left behind. Issues around secrecy suggest a common thread: “I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a secret, do you want to keep me?” she sings on ‘WASTE’. This time though, inspired by her reconnecting with her mother for the first time in 15 years, she confronts those personal struggles with striking directness. On ‘TRACKS’, her typically cold, flat delivery, revolving around a repeated phrase, carries a subtle emotional charge before taking on an accusatory tone: “You left your tracks in the dirt where you left me.” More than a stylistic choice, the ghostly echoes that permeate her music become a haunting evocation of the lingering pain of abandonment.
The musical world BABii inhabits might be one defined by escapism, but few artists are able to combine a knack for world-building with deeply personal storytelling the way she does on MiiRROR. Opening up about her experience in a short personal essay titled ‘Smoke & Mirrors’, she imagines an “alternate reality where I have a mother” that is “carelessly utopian, an eternal bond, a warm touch, a loving understanding,” while at the same time recognizing that her journey “has forever been a labyrinth of bewildering emotions.” At its best, the album mirrors the “hazy ambivalence” of those conflicting impulses, even if it still retains an aura of mystery around the person behind the art. BABii floats about without reaching any clear resolution, but that might be the sound of fragments coming back together at the end of ‘MOTHER’. If there’s still a sense that something’s missing by the end, it at least comes with an understanding that you can’t always find a piece of yourself in someone else’s reflection.
heka is the project of multidisciplinary artist and singer-songwriter Francesca Brierley, who grew up in the Italian hills but currently lives in London. That dual sense of identity, subconsciously or not, has informed her creative process over the past few years that she’s been releasing music: her SoundCloud bio sums up her sound as “butchered folk,” while on Bandcamp, she swears by the motto “lofi till I die.” Whether leaning more into the experimental folk stylings inspired by 22, A Million-era Bon Iver and Jesca Hoop or the hushed, raw intimacy of a bedroom recording, heka’s intuitive approach to songwriting and production has a way of blurring the boundaries between them.
Her new EP, (a), out now via Balloon Machine Records, is her strongest outing yet. What connects its four songs is a porous sense of space and time: textures seep in and out of its three-dimensional sound like a warm summer breeze or a precious memory, fragments Brierly often evokes through the use of field recordings and visual storytelling. Her lyrics range from abstract (“i shed all emotion and you tell me you’re free”) to grotesquely visceral (“i take a dab of you and lick my finger”), and their intensity is heightened by heka’s voice, which carries more tension and subtlety than is usually found in the lofi genre. The result is one of intoxicating beauty, a short but mesmerizing project that’s tied to the promise of bigger things to come.
We caught up with heka for this edition of our Artist Spotlight interview series to talk about her upbringing, the process behind her new EP, and more.
What are some things you associate with your upbringing and the place where you were raised?
I grew up in the countryside, so if I was to say the first thing that popped into my head, it would have been like, just being on trees and in the field most of my childhood, really. [laughs] I go there pretty much every year, so I’m still pretty connected to it. I moved to London when I was like 19, so most of my formative years growing up were done there. And I spent quite a lot of time there this year, actually, because I escaped London in February to try and get some vitamin D. And it’s really nice. I really like the connection to the countryside and being able to be outside and on walks, and I feel like when I’m there, I always write slightly differently. It just happens to be a slightly more folky, more songwriter-y kind of vibe – I don’t know why. Maybe the countryside inspires that kind of music. Whereas when I’m in London, I feel like I write more with a beat in mind, more electronic stuff.
There’s definitely a duality to your music, and maybe that’s a reflection of the places you’ve been in as well.
I feel like that affects my songwriting and the way that I am a lot. I’m also half-English and half-Italian, so I have half of my family and half of my identity, I guess, but I’ve always kind of felt in between the two things. So I don’t feel English and I don’t feel Italian fully; I just kind of inhabit the space in between. I don’t mind it – I quite like not necessarily subscribing to one cultural identity. But I definitely feel like it might be the reason why I find it really frustrating to be isolated into one genre or one sound. I think it’s definitely a theme in my life, being hybrid between two or more things, constantly in movement.
What were you like as a teenager?
I was a lot more put together than I am, I think. [laughs] I didn’t really act up much. I definitely got my teenage phase later in life, so I feel like I was quite grown up when I was 18. And then in my 20s I, like… [laughs] lost it.
[laughs] What happened?
[laughs] I don’t know, I mean, I think when you grow up, you have a certain role in your family, and that was my role. And then when I left home, I suddenly had the freedom of messing up and doing stuff on my own terms and just exploring and experimenting, so I think that’s what happened. But yeah – teenager, pretty chill, I think.
You said you moved to London when you were 19. What does that city mean to you now?
Because of the point that we were making before, I think London is where I’ve kind of grown up the most as an adult. It’s definitely been the environment where I’ve realized things about myself, and it’s the first interaction with a place that’s not home and a completely different world. I feel connected to London, in a way, because I feel quite [makes fast rhythmic sound] in my head, so the rhythm resonated with me. You know, stuff is happening everywhere and it’s so rich and active, so I definitely fell into that pretty easily.
Did you start making music before moving there?
I started when I was 14, I think. I studied classical piano growing up, but never really did any writing with it. And then one summer, this really old friend of mine – she isn’t old, I mean we’ve been friends for a long time – she’s like one year older than me. And you know when you have a slightly older friend when you’re in your teens, it’s like, “Oh my god,” they’re so cool and you want to do everything that they do. And we were on holiday one summer with our families, and she picked up the guitar, she started playing it, and she taught me a little bit of what she knew. And that’s kind of how it happened – I never before had even thought about picking up a guitar or doing anything like that. And then from there, we had a guitar at home and I just literally started writing and never stopped. [laughs] Pretty intensely at the beginning, like I feel like I was writing a song every other day. I think the fact that I was using an instrument that didn’t have any rules, for me, that didn’t have the structure of the classical piano – I had the freedom to just be intuitive with it.
Did you feel a desire to put any of that music out at the time?
I didn’t really at the beginning want anyone to hear what I was writing, because it was mostly, like, pining over this crush that I had. You know, just really personal, embarrassing stuff. And I just was singing because it made me feel good, and writing because I needed to, clearly. I’ve always written in English – for me, the fact that it was this language that, I mean, people understood, but not really immediately, it kind of felt like I was playing and singing in this secret language. It gave me that other level of freedom to just say whatever I wanted. And it took me maybe a year before I even played to anyone apart from people in my family. And then through a friend I met this group that had put together this little artist collective, and I went and played for them one night. I think that was the first time that I played to anyone other than my parents and my sisters. And that’s when started thinking in that way, to share and play in front of other people.
In the video description for ‘redwoods’, you talk about your songwriting process as being very subconscious; how your songs come from a particular place inside you and can contain multiple meanings that reveal themselves over time. Could you describe what that place is like for you, and how do you go about accessing it?
Most of the time, I’ll sit down and start playing something and then something clicks – I don’t know how, I don’t know why – I go down this road that I suddenly see or write something from that. I don’t have a specific process to do it because it feels playful, it feels like experimenting, even if there is subconsciously something that I always do the same. I like that there’s still a bit of unknown and magic in the way that it happens for me. I was thinking about this the other day because someone else asked me something similar, and I was like, “Actually if I think about it, I feel like I’m always in my brain kind of doing that.” I feel like, you know, you’ll have your internal monologue and think about stuff and you see things, and really what the brain is doing is collecting all this data. And I feel like the connections are already being made in my brain as I move into the world. And then what happens when I kind of sit still for a second and channel it into making something with music, for example, is that that stuff is there and suddenly becomes available to us. And I think that’s why most of the songs are really personal and intimate, because it’s literally like an extension of me.
Your lyrics often revolve around very visceral, bodily imagery, going back to your single ‘repaired // you won’t be dead’ and especially on your new EP with songs like ‘(a) dab’. What do you think draws you to that type of writing?
I think some songs are quite visual for me, and especially for ‘(a) dab’, I remember seeing the scene in my head and then describing it. So, some of these songs came more from a visual place and others come more from a talking place. And I feel like I quite like comparing things that are physical and attached to you with feelings – the connection between the body and the emotions that the body feels. I mean, some of them are slightly macabre, I don’t really know where that comes from.
Have you thought about it?
I haven’t, actually. I should, because I don’t have an answer. And that’s why I feel like there are definitely themes in the stuff that I do that I have absolutely no idea why… Maybe influences from stuff I’ve read, I don’t know.
Are you influenced by a lot of horror narratives, be it in music or film, that have a lot of grotesque imagery?
I’m usually not, I really don’t like that kind of stuff. [laughs] You know who I really love though, is Jenny Hval, and she does quite a lot of that. I quite like very visual lyrics, but I’m not necessarily conscious of saying, “Okay, I want to make this sound a bit dark and macabre” or whatever. It’s just what flows out of me. [laughs]
I know that you’re also working on some visuals to accompany the EP, so I’m curious how the visual world is connected to the songs in your mind.
So, not necessarily just the EP but in general, I really like video editing and I really like editing for music videos. And in the experience that I’ve had with other tracks as well, what happens usually is that as you make the video, all of these other layers of the song appear that you didn’t know before. You’re suddenly tuning into something that you wouldn’t have tuned into before, not just the words but the feeling of the song, you know, the pace, the rhythm. And I like for the visuals to have sort of an instinctive connection to the song, not necessarily narrative in any way. I quite like using images as percussive elements. So I think for this collection, when I was doing the production for it, what I really wanted to try and accomplish was to have this group of songs that kind of moved from one to the other, like some type of connecting tissue between them. And I think that’s where the idea of making one video for the whole thing came from, because I wanted to try and reinforce this idea of this one collective thing.
Could you outline the process of integrating found sounds and field recordings into your music?
I record a lot of stuff with my phone, just all the time when I’m out and about or when I hear some sound that’s really cool or I’m in a place that I want to remember. I feel like sound has this incredible power of bringing you back to a place, even if there isn’t a particular sound that’s like, not a main sound but just the environment, the soundscape that you get from any given place. And when I’m recording, I’ll have an intuition of what I want. It’s almost like going through the archives on my phone and listening back to the stuff.
How was your approach for this EP different from what you had done in the past? Did you think of it in a more holistic way?
Yeah, definitely. I’ve had in my mind to have these four songs released as one for a couple of years, and I knew that I wanted all the songs to be kind of connected. It’s something that I’ve always found really hard because historically, I’ll write two songs that are similar and then the next week something completely different. And in the past, that’s always been really frustrating, but I think more recently I’ve found a space of songwriting that I am more aware of now, and it was easier in that sense. I definitely want to experiment more in the future with writing – these were songs that were written at different times and then brought together, and I feel like it would be interesting to sit down one morning and the whole week and just write a whole EP in one go of songs that connect and that have references to each other within the songwriting and the production.
I do think it’s interesting the way that you’ve structured the EP, the progression of it, even if it’s just four songs. For example, the symbolism of the mask in the first song – to me, the “you” in that song is almost like society at large, and then it becomes less abstract and more personal from there. I don’t know if it’s different in your mind.
It’s definitely one of the least personal experience-based songs – it’s more of a philosophical lyric. And it’s to do with, yeah, this idea of conformity, and how we walk around with a mask that we construct. The concept of saying, “Oh, you let go of your mask or your ego, and suddenly you’re free.” And I like that the lyrics are open-ended in a way, that they don’t resolve, and they don’t necessarily say that doing that is right or that doing that is wrong. Because there’s also this kind of like, “You tell me I’m free,” but it’s not saying “I am free.” It’s almost just presenting this idea and it can be read either as a critique of it or an enlightened account of it.
To me, at first, it felt like there was less freedom in that act, because of the haunting and visceral imagery that the rest of the songs turn out to have. Or there’s a threat to that freedom as well. But with the closing track, it feels like there’s a bit of a sense of catharsis in the way it’s embracing anger.
That’s something I hadn’t even thought about, but it works. You have the opening track that’s talking about being above emotion and being free because of that, and the last track that’s saying that actually indulging in cathartic anger is what sets you free. That song comes a little bit from this article I read a few years ago, and it was this philosopher [David Whyte] who talked about how anger is actually one of the purest emotions – not anger in its practical application, but anger as the sort of pure anger, and in the sense that it’s care; it’s like a form of extreme care. I’ve always felt that anger isn’t always bad, and I’ve definitely found a lot of catharsis and some freedom through being angry. I feel like when you experience something that’s traumatic or intense in any way, the first thing that you do is shut down. And what happens after is, when you can finally be angry about it, it’s almost like this rebirth. It signifies the emotions coming back and your vitality coming back and you suddenly having the energy to go against whatever has happened, or like, react. So I think sometimes indulging in strong emotions isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In that sense, I feel like I would disagree with the first song, in that that’s not always the case; being detached isn’t always necessarily what frees you.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity and length.
It’s been three years since Walsall’s Jorja Smith released her debut album Lost & Found to seemingly overnight success. The album peaked at number three in the UK album charts; she was named Best British Female Artist at the 2019 Brits and was nominated for Best New Artist at the Grammys that same year. Guest spots with everyone from Drake to Kendrick Lamar arrived. A new queen of British soul had been crowned before she had really even begun, still just 21 years old.
Reflecting an honesty with herself and a commendable patience, Smith decided not to rush the follow-up album to Lost & Found, where most would have been tempted to cash in. So we have Be Right Back, an eight-strong EP that she’s released for fans while they await her next full-length, due to come out next year. These songs were deemed not quite right to make the cut for that record and it can be felt in the demo-esque production quality, particularly in the middle portion of the project. Tracks like ‘Home’ and ‘Burn’ are too dry, too bare, unable to maintain one’s interest.
Smith puts the strongest efforts before these at the beginning. ‘Addicted’ is immediately attention-grabbing, full of moody beats and smouldering vocals. A twinkling piano and a hesitant drumbeat then fill ‘Gone’. Lyrically she continues the themes of young love and self-discovery that flourished in Lost & Found (she’s still only 23). “Tell me how to keep my world moving on without you,” she begs in ‘Gone’; “Nah, I’m not here to hug you, I’m just for the night,” she reminds someone in ‘Time’.
Overall the beats remain a sweet fusion of bleary-eyed R&B and smoky soul, probably hinting at a similar sonic path in the upcoming album. ‘Bussdown’ And ‘Digging’ are the only significant departures, the former possessed with a slight dancehall element with rapper Shaybo being given a chance to shine, and the latter reverberating with murky ’90s energy. Whatever one thinks of the production, Smith’s voice is still the standout: she’s still able to stun and stop whenever she chooses as each word is delivered with a graceful sigh. On the closing track ‘Weekend’, most prominently, a simple piano line allows her gorgeous falsetto to fly into the sky.
It takes an artist possessed of poise and self-confidence to name a record Be Right Back: this is a minor release, she’s strong enough to acknowledge. Jorja Smith is still growing, but as she sings on this EP, “You should be addicted to me”: a listener would do well to heed those words and continue with the artist as she heads into her second full-length album.
What is there left to say about the much-maligned Weezer? Their new album, Van Weezer, is their 15th album after all, and their second this year following January’s OK Human. In the public’s mind, they’ve arguably overtaken Nickelback as the ultimate ‘Band As Meme’, certainly aided by the rise of TikTok. It is, put another way, a long way since their glory days of 1994’s Blue Album and 1996’s Pinkerton. Yet something keeps bringing people back: a cursory glance at the streaming numbers for this new album astoundingly shows over 10 million plays for two of the tracks; of the rest, only 1 comes under 300,000. Fans, clearly, keep returning in the vain hope that glory will come back.
It’s the glory that kills you though. Ostensibly inspired by 80s’ hard rock and metal, this is an unsubtle creation from Rivers Cuomo and company (just look at that Van Halen-ripped album title). The mammoth riff from Ozzy Osbourne’s ‘Crazy Train’ is directly used in ‘Blue Dream’; Aerosmith is namechecked in ‘I Need Some of That’. The closest they come to matching the late, great Eddie Van Halen is on the stadium rock track ‘The End Of the Game’. Most of the rhythm still belongs to power pop, however, and this is where the band perform best, particularly on ‘Sheila Can Do It’, the exuberant and confident ‘Hero’, and ‘All the Good Ones’, the latter recalling ‘Beverly Hills’ in its pounding anthemic quality.
Aside from one – again unsubtle – portrait of a troubled prostitute in ‘1 More Hit’, Cuomo’s lyrics are, strangely, ‘youthful’. Tracks like ‘I Need Some of That’, ‘All the Good Ones’, and ‘She Needs Me’ roar with unrestrained teenage fervour, slightly off-putting being performed by a man who turns 51 next month. “Who needs real estate when I got you?/ You’re my platinum blonde / With your spandex on,” he sings in ‘Precious Metal Girl’, and much of the lyrics are, pure and simply, lustful like this.
And this is the thing: Cuomo really doesn’t seem to care. 30 years into their career, Van Weezer has the air of a group of muso dads, looking for a mid-life outlet that doesn’t involve buying a motorcycle, getting their teenage rock band back together in the garage on weekends. As such, it’s difficult to disparage the record too much, for much of it is joyous and geeky and fun. It’s not going to stop the memes, it’s not going to stop their seemingly never-ending downward spiral. As he sings in ‘Hero’, “On the inside, I’m an outcast”: it’s a role that Cuomo seems content to keep playing, probably for another 15 albums.
Fashion Revolution is a registered charity based in London, advocating for a more ethical and sustainable fashion industry.
The charity was founded in response to one of the worst ever industrial incidents: the Rana Plaza. On 24th April 2013 in Dhaka, Bangladesh over 1,132 people were killed and 2,500 injured when the garment factories they were working in collapsed.
Fashion revolution offers opportunities and information to push positive change. Rallying people to help change the way the fashion industry runs, helping prevent similar disasters from happening again.
What do they do?
Fashion Revolution advocates for change in the fashion industry, focusing on pushing reform within our culture, fashion industry and industrial policies and practices. They attempt to unite everyone within the fashion industry, including designers, manufacturers, factory workers, consumers and disposal.
The charity raises awareness with groups in 100 countries worldwide, highlighting the often dangerous workplaces, unethical treatment of workers, and unsustainable and polluting production methods within the fashion industry.
It is estimated that around 3.4 billion people are working in the fashion industry worldwide, with 430 million believed to be working in garment and fabric production. Fashion Revolution amplifies these often unheard voices within the fashion industry and holds companies accountable for their actions.
For the last five years, Fashion Revolution has created yearly Fashion Transparency index’s, reviewing 250 leading fashion brands using information regarding supply chains, policies, and practices they have disclosed. The charity pushes brands to be transparent about their practices, thus allowing consumers and the fashion industry to review and hold brands accountable for their practices to reduce the potential of greenwashing.
Fashion Revolution Week
Since 2014 Fashion Revolution has run Fashion Revolution Week, held around the date of the Rana plaza incident, to remember and raise awareness of the unethical and unsustainable sides of fashion through social media, online and physical events.
Fashion Open Studio highlights designers who are transparent in their design, production, and supply chain who innovate ways to be as ethical, sustainable, and socially responsible as possible. This helps designers and consumers connect, enabling designers to understand the consumer’s needs and gives consumers an insight into how the clothes they wear are created.
During Fashion Revolution Week, participants are encouraged to contact brands directly and via social media using the hashtags: #whomademyfabric? #whomademyclothes, and #whatsinmyclothes? alongside pre-written templates. The aim is to pressure brands to disclose information relating to their supply chain, environmental impacts, and treatment of garment workers to help create transparency within the fashion industry.
Consumers are also encouraged to take selfies of themselves holding posters of these hashtags and to share them on social media.
I attended multiple online events during Fashion Revolution Week 2021, ranging from studio tours, interviews, workshops and seminars. The wide range of events catered to a broad range of needs and audiences, including students, industry professionals, fashionistas, bloggers, and people new to sustainable fashion. My highlights included a ‘Glorious Garbage’ studio tour, a conversation with Germanier, and an online handbag workshop by Clara Chu. With so many different style events on, there was something for everyone, and I personally left feeling inspired about where the fashion industry is heading due to innovative designers, industry professionals, and the community attending the events.
How to get involved
There are many ways to help support Fashion Revolution throughout the year alongside Fashion Revolution Week. These include:
Sending an email to a brand using a provided template
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Shabaka Hutchings, the London-born, Barbados-raised multi-instrumentalist whose singular vision and unrelenting spirit have placed him at the forefront of Britain’s vibrant jazz scene over the past decade, last released an album in March 2020. That was with his group Shabaka and the Ancestors, in which he collaborates with South African musicians; his other projects include the cosmic jazz trio the Comet is Coming, featuring Dan Leavers on synths and Max Hallett on drums, and Sons of Kemet, the improvisational jazz quartet whose breakout third LP Your Queen Is a Reptile – their first for Impulse! – earned them a Mercury Prize nomination in 2018. What sets Sons of Kemet apart is both their fervent energy and their unconventional approach to genre, mixing jazz with elements of dub, hip-hop, and dancehall; there’s an undeniable urgency to their music that’s a key component of every one of Hutchings’ projects, but here it’s also informed by a heightened political consciousness that comes through in both their propulsive compositions and conceptual ambitions. Their latest release, Black to the Future, is the most powerful and pertinent expression of the group’s unique dynamic to date.
When the quartet locks into a certain groove, the effect is nothing short of exhilarating: twin drummers Edward Wakili-Hick and Tom Skinner provide a rhythmic backbone that not only gives the music a nervous quality but also makes it feel rooted to the earth, while tuba player Theon Cross casts a heavy, ominous cloud over the proceedings. But it is Hutchings’ layers of clarinet and saxophone that light the fire – SoK’s debut album was fittingly titled Burn – one that takes different forms throughout the duration of the new LP: on the frantic ‘Pick Up Your Burning Cross’, the flames sputter out in front of you as the words of Moor Mother and Angel Bat Dawid hover in and out like a haunting chant.
But it’s on the previous track, opener ‘Field Negus’, that the tension starts to simmer. Poet Joshua Idehen, a frequent collaborator of Hutchings who previously contributed spoken word to Your Queen Is a Reptile, plays an even more vital role here; not only because it is his voice that bookends the album, but because his performance feels more attuned to the language of the music, blending in rather than drawing attention away from its seething core. “You had me saying prayers in your language/ You made me forget your gods, question my spirits, forsake my prophets,” he decries on ‘Field Negus’. “Oh, the audacity, the Caucasity of it all!” His final proclamation, as caustic as it is furious, sets the tone for the rest of the record: “Burn it all, burn it all.”
Your Queen Is a Reptile was notable for being the group’s first album since the 2016 Brexit vote, and its celebration of visionary women of colour often overlooked by history doubled as a condemnation of and radical alternative to the British monarchy. Recorded in the midst of last year’s Black Lives Matter protests in the wake of the killing of Goerge Floyd, Black to the Future is fuelled by a similar sense of purpose: to “redefine and reaffirm what it means to strive for Black power,” as Hutchings writes in the liner notes. And it does so with tenacity and fervour, teeming with joy as well as resentment and sorrow: this, as the album’s title suggests, is not a commentary on current events, but a vision of the future built on the foundations of the past. Though there is a nuanced complexity to the album, it is above all a potent and rewarding piece of work.
Despite the upbeat energy of tracks like ‘Think of Home’ and ‘To Never Forget the Source’, Black to the Future does often see the quartet leaning into a more meditative – but never conventional – groove. The tone of ‘In Remembrance of Those Fallen’ is at once mournful and enchanting, while ‘Through the Madness, Stay Strong’ is as evocative as its title, one of the most transcendent examples of the group’s chemistry. When Idehen’s voice returns on the final track, ‘Black’, it’s not there to fill a void, but acts as a visceral affirmation of what’s already been conveyed in the music: “This Black praise is dance! This Black struggle is dance! This Black pain is dance!”
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The best websites are powered by world-famous development studios like NetEnt or Microgaming. They are fully optimized for mobile use and may offer free HD software. These days, members need flexible access. Play all of your favourite games from any laptop, tablet, or smartphone — now, top-notch entertainment is a click or tap away.
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The Bottom Line
To pick the best casino, begin with your goals. What games do you want to play? What payment methods are the most convenient? Is mobile access necessary? Choose wisely and never judge a casino by its cover. Fraudulent websites have crisp graphics and lavish bonuses, too!
The title for Philadelphia/Michigan musician Rosali’s third album, No Medium, is taken from the Charlotte Brontë novel Jane Eyre. The full quote from that is helpful in evoking the tension that controls Rosali’s record: “I know no medium: I never in my life have known any medium in my dealings with positive, hard characters, antagonistic to my own, between absolute submission and determined revolt. I have always faithfully observed the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes with volcanic vehemence, into the other.”
In the album, the tension comes from Rosali, ironically, being in a contested middle. She wishes to fully let go of a lost love, to move on, but in the songs she deliberates a little longer. She fondly recalls the good times of the relationship, nostalgia shrouding her senses; she is, in Brontë’s terms, not quite absolutely submissive nor wholly ready to revolt yet. Rosali wrote most of these songs in early 2019 while on a self-imposed two week residency in the hills of South Carolina. The isolation can be felt in the rawness of feeling as she faces her demons, thinking about loss and death, addiction and love; she sounds vulnerable and scarred after it all but also empowered.
Self-doubt begins the record. “Doesn’t it feel like love? Doesn’t it remind you of that?” she asks in ‘Wish’, wishing more than believing the answer to be yes. Rosali’s voice is always excellent. She sometimes sounds determined and resolute, at other points sounding more restrained and uncertain; whichever emotion powers her delivery, though, her vocals are always lush and involving.
The tension comes out sonically too. Much of the album is sparse, considered, mournful. The solemn piano ballad ‘Waited All Day’ captures the static feeling one finds themselves in during the dissolving of a relationship, choosing between coming and going. Ponderous acoustic guitar slows the pace on ‘All This Lightning’ and ‘Whisper’. It’s rugged yet contemplative Americana. The one-two guttural punch of ‘Bones’ and ‘Pour Over Ice’ are when she unleashes fully. The former is all wild blues, raucous and heavy; the latter’s energy is necessitated by its lyrics, Rosali contending with her toxic reliance on alcohol (“Not enough fuel to sustain,” she notes, clearly aware of its damage).
‘Whatever Love’ also later begins harder and harsher, ebullient country rock, before grounding into sweet choral harmonies; it’s a striking balance between sweet and sour, soulful and spiky, a balancing act that Rosali manages throughout the record. Backed as she is by members of the David Nance Group, the instrumentation is illuminating. A mellow slide guitar captures the sadness of ‘Your Shadow’, as she sings, “I was taken with sorrow/ Oh the nights I’ve lain awake/ If you stare into darkness/ Soon you’ll be seeing/ The light start to break.” Elsewhere, a clattering lead guitar smashes through ‘Pour Over Ice’.
Self-doubt closes the record, too. “By and large we’ve kept things together/ By and large we’ve stormed all this weather/ Why the false wildness?… I make my mind up all the time/ Each time it’s different,” she considers in anguish in ‘Tender Heart’, encapsulating the utter folly and unpredictability of decisions of the heart.
Perhaps she will always be plagued by such self-doubt, always in transition. If anything sounds like it will get her to that Brontëan point of ‘determined revolt’, though, it’s this album. There is fear here but there is also fervour. The hauntingly accurate metaphor that Rosali croons soothingly at one point puts it best: “All this lightning ain’t frightening to me.” A future fourth album, one thinks, will be marked by perseverance and growth and, once more, authentic emotion.
