Time to give hands a hand
The Scottish music scene is brimming with talent, but onl with the kind of respect an civility you find at King Tut's will it stay here.
‘-.'\."O-'CS Doug Johnstone
There's nothing happenung un the Scottush musuc scene, rught? It's either Travus or Texas, rught? I mean, everyone knows that decent artists come from the bug smoke down south or from across the pond, rught?
Well - as thus ussue of The List proves - wrong. Because elsewhere in these hallowed pages are highlighted some of the best new bands, solo artusts, Dls and generally unventuve mu5uca| oddutues that are currently poppung up all over thus cold, dark country of ours. And thus us talent that has materualused despute a far-from-fertule breeding ground and wuth a conspuracy of curcumstances set agaunst the development of that talent to fulful uts creatuve potentual.
Makung your own musuc usn’t easy. Beung un a band, say, us pretty much one long struggle. You struggle to get equupment, a rehearsal room, some songs together, a gig organised, transport, advertusung, punters and paud. Then you do ut all over agaun,
Whule no one’s suggesting that musuCuans should be handed these things on a plate, there us scope for makung thus arduous process considerably easuer. Let’s set asude for the moment the issue of the Scottush Arts Councul, whuch despute recent lup- servuce, us stull donatung about five quud to contemporary musuc (I’ve done that rant before, anyhoo). There us a deeper problem. In today’s clumate of karaoke kungs and queens - where wunnung Stars In Their Eyes us consudered the hughest achuevement and where you can be on the cover of Heat magazme for not gettung unto a shite manufactured pop band - attemptung to make a luvung through creatung unnovatuve, orugunal work us basucally pussung un the wund.
What you need, if you are such an artist, us a wundbreak so you can puss un peace. Erm, metaphorucally speaking, you understand. And that sumply doesn’t exust un Scotland at the
You can't expect world- conquering artists to pop out of the ether fully-formed, ready to start duetting with Michael Jackson
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You need a Glass Onion before you can have a Travis
Exhubut A for the prosecutuon' Travus. The fact that the band eventually gave up on their hometown and had to move to London to get a record deal speaks volumes for the uncreatuve envuronment up here. A but luke Grolsch l'SChtOp, schtop dus blue movue usn’t ready yet,’ etc), musucal talent takes time to develop, as anyone who saw Travus when they were the truly dreadful Glass Onuon wull testify to.
You can't Just expect wou'Id-conquerung artusts to pop out of the ether fully-formed, ready to start duettung wuth Michael Jackson, these things take tume, and that's where the mUSICaI unfrastructure of Scotland falls on uts arse. Rehearsal rooms are a rup off, studios are often a puss take, management companues are duckheads and luve venues, dear oh dear.
Sometimes (and I know thus from experuence) turnung up at a gug venue (naming no names here) as a local band you are treated as worse than the shit on the shutty shoe of the promoter, the venue owner, hell, probably the cloakroom bloke and the cleaner too.
But it doesn’t have to be thus way. An honourable and noteworthy exceptuon us King Tut's un Glasgow (and a shout here to the Lemon Tree un Aberdeen as well), whuch treats even the lowluest of local undue hopefuls wuth basuc civulity and respect, even knocking together a hot meal ferchrussakes. And that attutude has served Tut's well, Sunce ut was recently voted the best small venue un the UK. What we need are more places luke ut, wullung to take a chance on local talent, acting as a Wundbreak un the tornado of trubute bands, and creatung an envuronment, a vube, where Scottush musuc can fulful its potential.
The Pipeline Coming quite soon . . .
'I listen to our first three albums and I sound like a dick.’
Arab Strao's Audar‘. Mof‘at :n harsh. 'ef'ectum mode
'lt's very expensive to be
me. Anna Nucoie Smuth breaks hearts in court as she pleads her case for gettung every penny of the $47Sm of her dead husband’s estate
'1 know how to make pigs scary.‘
Rudley Scott's unusual technuque of unuectung fear unto the Hannibal auduence ‘The only benefit you get out of taking drugs is that you escape reality. People obviously want to escape reality because reality obviously sucks.‘
The Honeycomb propruetOr \i'Varren Deughan lays ut on the uvxhute) lune
‘I can't get my hair wet.’ Anthea Turner refuses to take the plunge for a charuty SWummlng marathon,
'If it's not our night, we're one of the crappest bands in the world.’
Bono tells ut pretty much luke ut
‘I prefer men who are confident and have a sense of humour.’
Scots TV presenter Kursty Gallacher guves Robbue Wulluams a devastating knock- back.
'Yeah, yeah, granddad.’ Ex-Brookue
star Anna Fruel uses Sumular methods to shake off Jack Nucholson
v , y prepares tdbe over tlﬁh‘ioon
8 "IBM 15 Feb—1 Mar 2001
The realm of the computer game continues its inexorable rise towards universal domination and its transference to the big screen looks set to push that along. With Angelina Jolie morphing into Lara Croft and Milla Jovovich homing in on Resident Evil, news arrives that the film that could be seen as the template for this kind of thing is set for its long-awaited — well, maybe - sequel. Disney is at the early development stages for 'I'ron 2.0. The original bombed in 1982 but was warmly received on its 1999 US re- release and director Steven Lisberger is working on its follow-up . . . Some
may say his best days are behind him, but Ardal O'Hanlon probably won‘t care about that when he returns to the live circuit at the end of May. A show at Glasgow's Pavilion is pencilled in for Sunday 27 . . . As Match Of The Day gets set to make its controversial transfer to lTV for next season, Moby, Badly Drawn Boy and 02 are among those in line to score a new theme tune; presumably this is to help the show leave behind its BBC ness. Rumours that Travis, Texas and the Krankies have been approached to rewrite the Sportscene intro have, unsurprisingly, yet to surface . . . After his stridently
anti-Rangers aural rantings with Primal Scream, it's pretty unlikely that Irvine Welsh would be offered the chance to invade the nation's living- rooms of a Saturday evening. However, he's evidently busy enough as it is. With the publication of his next novel, Glue coming your way in early May, his follow-up is already scheduled for the summer of 2002. While little is known as yet about Porno, Glue looks at the lives of four schemies and is described kindly by his publishers at Random House as 'ambitious' and 'successful'. More intriguingly, it contains 'the best dog torture and death scene ever'. Lovely.