Normally when you go to a gig, your world revolves around the bubble of people in your immediate vacinity – and the band/person on stage. Maybe it was because this was no ordinary concert, but within the first ten minutes I became accutely aware of the fact that my jaw was hanging open. Not just partially surprised at what I was looking at, RIGHT OPEN.
After the micro-second of embarrassment, I realised just as quickly that *no-one* in the room cared about whatever I was doing and I started to wonder if this Icelandic gentleman was effecting people in the same way.
Then. Then, I thought about photos. Photos of gigs. You see the standard crowd shot, arms reaching for the sky, girls on boys’ shoulders at festivals, the rockstar screaming into a microphone – even the artist that likes to take photos of the audience. But has anyone spent the whole gig looking back into the crowd? Are there photographs somewhere that pick out people and record their reactions?
I’d love to know. I’d love to take some myself for that matter. The search begins…
That’s a big statement. Stomping on the grass while listening to Orbital at The Big Chill last year was pretty special. Watching the full 90,000 capacity of Wembley Stadium stand up and dance to Basement Jaxx was just as beautiful. Seeing Roisin Murphy and Goldfrapp within two weeks of each another in 2008 pretty much made my heart sing.
But every time, it was the music that had me transfixed. Yes, there are always visuals and dancing (Roisin doing the running man for three full minutes was a sight to behold I can tell you), but it’s superfluous to so many acts.
Jónsi is a whole different kettle of fish. You really can’t separate music and visuals with Sigur Rós’ frontman. It was a performance, not a gig.
If I don’t know an artist well, I usually go blind – or deaf, which might be more appropriate – to the show. If I have a first-listen beforehand, I find my expectations are up and down like a yo-yo. It’s like starting primary school having read your GCSE maths textbook (note to self: do they still exist?), but not really understanding what it means.
We sat upstairs at the HMV Forum in Kentish Town (sharing a pint of cider because the bar doesn’t take cards, the swines) and waited. He started, the set came alive. Light boxes draped in muslin showed images of animals sketched to look like a studyfor a biology class on parchment paper. From the bottom right of each box (as well as the backdrop that covered the entire stage behind the band), the images started to flicker with ‘flames’ until the whole set appeared as if on fire and the blaze turned into bright orange butterflies. That set the tone for the night. It was mesmerising.
What followed was a jaw-dropping animation of various birds of prey and a wolf chasing their respective prey, a ‘reveal’ of a second, more industrial backdrop behind the original muslin. Cascading water, a virtual forest…the list goes on. Each song had it’s own unique accompaniment. The connection to all things natural was obvious, and both complimented and stood apart from Jónsi’s ethereal style perfectly.
His band were smiling (always a nice thing to see), and moved as a unit since each member played almost ALL of the instruments on the stage. The drummer’s energy in particular was phenomenal.
The night’s crescendo was an eight-minute version of Grow Till Tall, with Jónsi re-appearing on the stage for an encore in a brightly coloured Indian headdress. The music built, the visuals changed the stage into a storm, ‘washing away’ pieces as the song went on. The thrashing guitars, Jónsi screaming and the set whirling around the screens was intense. All the crowd could do was stop and stare, there’s nothing else you could do. There’s no point in saying that a YouTube clip will capture anything like what you feel when you’re in the room and his falsetto voice is literally vibrating the sleeves of your shirt against your arm, but check this for a rough idea.
Emotional, beautiful, but authentic (that’s the key). He’s an Icelandic genius, with quirkiness seeping from every pore. But you believe him, it’s not put on and it’s not pretentious, he’s just creative and sees things differently. I loved every second and though I might sound gushing, I was truly blown away by the spectacle of it all.
If you get a chance, go see him, I’m assured that his level of showmanship is consistent throughout his live performances. Beg, steal, swap your sister for a ticket – you won’t regret it.
A few weeks ago, Zoe Margolis – also known as the Girl with a One Track Mind – was incorrectly labelled a ‘hooker’ by a sub-editor in The Independent. In the headline of a piece she’d written herself no less.
We wrote about it on Reputation Online, and much of the subsequent discussion across the blogosphere and on Twitter veered towards sexism, as ironically Margolis had been tarred with the very same type of stereotyping she’s attempting to stamp out.
Her experiences in the film industry formed part of the debate, and this – along with the outcome of a post by Camilla Blackett (that I can’t find the original link for), in which she turns the tables on women in the same field, saying that the topics covered by female film makers only contribute to the way they are perceived – got me thinking.
The notion of chauvinism in the workplace is not new to me. My first few years after university were spent working in the male-dominated world of technology, and yes there are fantastic women doing great work here too, but they are hugely outnumbered. To not acknowledge that is just naive. I worked in PR, so was perhaps once removed from the nitty-gritty of it all, but didn’t find it too much of an issue. When comparing notes with friends, it certainly didn’t seem to be more prominent than what they were also experiencing. The notion that it might be however was thrust in my face on a weekly basis – but I never got involved in the debate.
Why? Well, it’s taken me a long time to work that out (for most of which I felt guilty for not being more supportive). First and foremost, I never liked the idea of separating the sexes – one rule for one, another for the other. When you’re trying to promote the notion of equality, dividing people into two groups only enhances the notion that they should be treated differently. If you take men out of the picture, you could be taking the best talent out of the equation. You might be at the top of your game, but only in part.
Second, I was afraid of putting myself up there on a pedestal, getting involved in the gender debate and being berated by the fierce feminist community that resides in London. It doesn’t matter how confident you are, they’re a scary bunch of people to piss off.
Looking at women in tech here, there’s a distinct split. There are those who play on what’s perceived to be typically female traits – giggly, happy-go-lucky excitement – and those who strive to rebel against this, sometimes to the point of being sensationalist. I don’t disagree with either approach; I just don’t fit into either group.
I won’t lie, it’s taken me a long time to navigate the boundaries of my work and private life, as well as understand who means well and who really doesn’t. I’ve made stupid mistakes, and others probably still think they know the type of person I am because of them. Funnily enough, that isn’t the case. Maybe those natural ebbs and flows are the reason it’s taken so long for me to get my head around this issue. Regardless, I know that I’m part of a generation of women that are lucky enough to have a choice in terms of career, life and behaviour. What’s more, we’re aware that the choices exist.
I’ve decided to sit somewhere in-between rebellious feminist and doting housewife. I’m not afraid of my desire for traditional things like marriage and children, but roll my eyes when faced with a laptop cover that’s hot pink and marketed to girls. However, I don’t feel the need to shout about it – I’d rather get on with it. I’d prefer to do a good job and let that speak for itself, while helping girls in a practical sense by opening my contact book to them.
And you know what, I’m fine with that. It doesn’t make me any less independent or strong-willed – and I’ve finally got the balls to say it.
Instead of blogging about an inspirational woman today, I’ve decided to take some her spirit on board myself. Thanks Ada.
@chris_beaumont There really is such a thing as bad PR. I don't think it's subjective either, but I'll agree to disagree and leave it there. 6 hours ago
