Levi's x Beardyman & Bass Clef

Tuesday night saw Beardyman and Bass Clef's turn to make their rampant mark on one of the intimate Levi's Craft of Music live sessions. Having made the short walk over to the Levi's store on Regent Street after work, we were greeted in the warmest form possible - a la open bar. However, the mainstay of the night wasn't the free tipple, but rather the unfeigned talent that was demonstrated by the two headlining acts for the evening, who treated the crowd to a plethora of gritty basslines coupled with an experimental vibe. Full details on the night's happenings can found by clicking below.

Traversing Rooftops

Nothing beats the feeling of height. The following photos were shot whilst exploring the hives of industrial activity on the outskirts of Kentish Town. Check out the full set by clicking below.

Concrete Glory

A couple of photos taken on a gloomy Saturday afternoon, in a rare part of the Kings Cross area that feels a world away from the gleam of mass redevelopment and the tourist crush. Check them out by clicking below.

Field day festivities

There were smiles all round last week when I managed to get my grubby mitts on a last-minute pair of Field Day guestlist places. So late saturday afternoon (bearing a sickly hangover courtesy of the Manchester crew's visit the night before), armed with my camera and Sarah in tow, we arrived at a sun kissed Victoria Park. Now, before we'd even set foot through the gates, this year had already trumped it's predecessors by a long shot. Yes, after past year's apocalyptic noah's ark-esque downpours, the weather had finally got tired of pissing down shitloads on a field full of hipsters.

And what a difference it made. The chilled vibe was infectious, and the mood was uplifting. Even the booze tasted better. The line up didn't disappoint either, with Caribou, whose electronic goodness complemented the setting sun well; although unfortunately, half the festival seemed to think so too - which meant that any type of dancing movement resulted almost definitely in facial contact with the (hairy) back belonging to the guy in front, tripping off the copious amounts of ketamine he had just taken. Phoenix as headliners were an obvious stand out of the day, and their flawless set was an apt closer to a triumph of a festival.

The full photo set follows.

I scream

Was at Ben & Jerry's annual marketing ploy unlimited ice cream bonanza this weekend on Clapham Common. Unfortunately, we landed tickets for the day with the shit line up, but the lure of unlimited ice cream meant that it was not gonna stop us. Not a great deal to say about this one - High points consisted of nearly throwing up on a volatile mix of too much ice cream and cider, the sun making a welcome appearance, and the eclectic line up at the acoustic stage; Low points included the mediocre main stage line up, the vomit inducing cider, and Scouting For Girls headlining.

Click below for more ice cream fun.

The drinks are on the Creators Project

Last week, I managed to nab a couple of guestlist places to the Creators Project Party hosted by Vice and Intel. So managing to coax a few mates to don their glad rags under the promise of free booze, a favourable line up, and cutting edge art installations, we headed out on an early saturday evening to Victoria House in Bloomsbury. What followed was a relatively raucous affair, and upon sight of the open bar, we were like four hyperactive kids who had just been locked in Hamleys for the night.

Joyride

I'm still inept at being able to gage four wheels, so when I got back into London this week to hear my good mate had recently invested in a new car, I saw it as a big thing. We decided the only decent thing to do was to pay homage to our teenage years and go for a drive. A bit like a "screw you, we're vehicularly mobile bitches" to the oppressors(?) trying to hold us down. Here are pictures:

Sorry times a million

Sorry about the sound of silence around here lately, I'm on the verge of becoming a fully fledged no prospect dole seeking graduate, so I figured the least I could do is salvage the best grade I can from the three years I've wasted. A couple of things to look out for though; Vice launched a new style website this week at http://vicestyle.com, visit that to be transformed into your local style icon overnight, leading to sex on demand and whatever else you may want from life. Also, Palladium Boots (the brand behind the hidden New York video I posted ages ago) have flown over to Blighty to explore London's pirate radio scene. Check it out below:

death by sales

Forget christmas spirit. The scene at Selfridges on boxing day was more reminiscent of the Hillsborough disaster than a department store sale, with people clambering over each other to grab the first ill-fitting garment that made it into their peripheral vision. Sure, I can remember being 15 and the joys of blowing all my christmas money on cut price designer gear or something of the sort, but as I stood there wedged between a rudeboy and a grandma all I could think was: Why the fuck would you want to do this?

10 Reasons Why You Should Never Ever Ever Bother With The Sales

1. Because you'll probably never wear that shitty t-shirt one size too big.

2. Because that 16 year old chav over there with his hood up and hand down his pants will be wearing that same t shirt in a weeks time.

3. Because after you hit 18, there is a wonderful thing called debt which allows you to purchase goods at full price whenever you want. Fuck the system, go nuts.

4. Because all the good stuff is usually gone after the first day, and the first day also brings out the most blood-thirsty, mentally unstable 'bargain hunters' who WILL fuck you up for those half price jeans.

5. Because that gang behind you has probably just stolen your wallet.

6. Because by buying that shiny silver jacket for 50% off, you are paying for the rest of it with your dignity.

7. Because no one likes desperation. It's awkward. Save it for the mid life crisis.

8. Because you see that last bargain pair of jeans you bought one size too small, when you managed to squeeze into them holding your breath? Have fun wearing them on an daily basis.

9. Because sales assistants will think and treat you like you're the spawn of satan. Thats right, THE SCUM OF THE EARTH.

10. Because sale purchases will not change your life. No matter what Selfridges says.

Shop at your peril.

winter wonderland

Sorry its been a bit quiet round here on the blogging front. Apart from the preset Vice message, I haven't really had the time (been arsed) to update my humble piece of webspace. But blog I promise from now on, not to drop you and pick you up when I fancy like a cheap whore. Promise.

I got back into London late last night and the snow here is crazzzzyy. Now I'm usually a fan of snow, but walking through it with my life in my backpack, looking like a total mug taking babysteps to avoid slippage, isn't exactly disneyland. Come to think of it, snow has the potential to turn people into disturbed socially inept hermits unable to leave their homes. Mark my words, that innocent looking snow can and will ruin your life.

I did however today, in between random napping and christmas tv-ing, stumble across a pretty fly number to add to the christmas wish list.


guarantees to add 2 inches of human height for any shorties out there

I have big plans for tomorrow, main one being leaving the house. I will not be defeated by this bastard snow and I need to break this self destructive cycle of sleeping and lazing. I WILL wake up at a normal time and I WILL buy something decent to wear for christmas dinner. I will.

cold

derelict london

A dreamlike take on London's underbelly. I spent a good 15 minutes repeating this over again. Time well spent.

extra sauce please

out to lunch with sarah

home turf

strollin' on a sunny saturday afternoon.

lets have a field day

I spent saturday at Field Day in Victoria Park. It was wet and muddy and I got caught out by wearing vans with no socks on. It was also filled to the brim with shoreditch's finest totty which, albeit a bit pretentious, more than made up for my watery pain.


Me and my mates decided it would be a great idea to be thrifty (cheap) and pre-drink outside. In our heads, we were sticking two fingers up to the festival bars and their £3.70 a can madness.


Our mate MJ was obviously a lot more gutsy.




We're in! Smiles all round.


Here we are with our bar bought cans. Guess our rebellious stand was no match for the allure of lukewarm pear cider. Goodbye £3.70. Hello Mr Drunk.




Santigold's set was delayed by 30 minutes. Those 30 minutes also happened to coincide with a torrential downpour of hollywood blockbuster proportions. We were not best pleased. We were even waiting so long that a bit of facial hair action started going on. Burt Reynolds has nothin on us.




She came on eventually and the crowd were pretty hype. The whole apology routine went down and although she did the usual crowd pleasers and a cover of The Cure's 'Killing an arab', her set didn't feel worth the soggy jeans and wet feet. Might've been because her backup singers were made to be moody as fuck and expressionless the whole way through. But I'm probably just bitter that the delay's with her set meant that Skream's set was cut to a miniscule 15 minutes as a consequence.





The rain cleared up considerably after Santigold's set (typical) and it revealed this magnificent sunset. Spirits were lifted - we're easily pleased.




Mystery Jets were the surprise number 1 set of the day. They got the set list spot on, launching into 'Hideaway' complete with the sirens to build up hype and following it up with compulsory singalongs 'Half in Love With Elizabeth' and 'Two Doors Down'. Another added bonus was finding the cheeky bevvy that we managed to smuggle in using all our wit and charm. Needless to say, we had a ball!


This is a photo I took walking home at 6:30am the next morning. We all ended back at my mates flat to afterparty which consisted of watching Charlie Sheen's finest hour in 'The Wraith' and Samuel L Jackson being a straight up gee in 'Jackie Brown'. Wild.