It’s only a quarter to ten on a Wednesday night, but the keen crop have been here for nearly three hours now, and the O2 is really hotting up. Literally, I swear the ceiling is dripping – I presume a mixture of the jettisoned pints, the sweat and the spit of hundreds of chanting fans. What they want is Netsky; or ‘Netskee’, as opinions seem to differ. Either way, Boris Daenen has a lot to live up to.

The hype is no less real after both drum n bass veterans Chase and Status and Pendulum successfully made the switch, establishing themselves as epic and elaborate live acts in their own right, with cheeky upstarts Disclosure following hot on their heels. Netsky LIVE! however quickly reveals itself as an altogether more simple formula: Daenen is flanked only by his drummer and his keyboardist, with long-time collaborator Script MC fronting the outfit. Indeed at first the word formula seems appropriate, as they plough through a handful of songs with scarcely a pause for breath. No sooner has one song finished, and the crowd quietened down, than the drums work up to yet another numbing climax.

Netsky’s set list contains a much lesser proportion of the liquid funk style of his self-titled debut, and when at last the keyboard makes the transition from screeching synth high notes to the lilting pianos of ‘Anticipate’, and Daenen turns to the microphone to deliver the lyrics with vocoded finesse (and the slight hint of a Belgian accent) it becomes obvious what we have been missing all along. Aside from the odd drumstep remix or hip hop breakdown, Netsky rarely deviates from the drum n bass tempo, and when featuring artist Billie sings live on his house hit ‘Puppy’, it is the change in pace that the crowd seems to appreciate most of all.

However, for all Netsky LIVE! may lack in variety or even ambition, it makes up in focus. Now over two years into a string of worldwide tour dates, the ensemble is tight, at times almost clinical. Whilst it is easy to lose yourself in the crowd, more mesmerising still is the sight of the keyboardist’s psychedelic flair and the drummer’s metal levels of intensity racing together, neither missing a single beat. The energy of the room is pooled and recycled from one banger to the next, old favourites ‘Iron Heart’ and ‘Secret Agent’ are greeted like Chelsea Dagger at a football match, and mosh pits form of their own accord in anticipation of almost every devastating drop. Script MC, if anything, seems to bring order to the chaos with some well-placed call-and-response. Netsky, too, has always been quietly confident. The 25 year old stands before us in a plain white t shirt, his unassuming charm more reminiscent of a house party tastemaker than the self-indulgent frontman, and it is this sense of equality, of community under one roof, that Daenen builds from the opening notes to the final encore.

As the crowd disperses, only debris remains to tell the true cost of such a ceremony. While a friend of mine, mourning his newly chipped tooth, scrambles in search of a lost phone among trampled sunglasses, shoe soles and the tatters of hair extensions, I instead am inclined to reflect on the reciprocity of the whole affair. Because for every second of energy that Netsky gives to the performance, another young fan gives up their mosh pit innocence. I should really have helped him find that phone.

A kickstarter funding project is now running for Waterbird and Catkins, two short films supported by the Oxford Broadcasting Association (OBA), with a view to sending the Oxford-made films to festivals around the world.

It is hoped that the films, shot over five days during the summer, will follow the success of The Wishing Horse, which received ‘Best London Film’ at the Portobello film festival in September. The achievement of The Wishing Horse signified the meteoric rise of Oxford’s film scene over the past year and a half. 

Having raised £700 already since the start of the program two weeks ago, the project’s founders — director Alex Darby and producer Ksenia Harwood — are well on their way to their target of £800. They hope that this money will enable them to submit Waterbird and Catkins to various film festivals around the world.

While production costs were covered by arts funding bodies, the cost of submitting each film to a festival is between £20 and £30, paid through either submission fees or the cost of making and posting DVDs, depending on the festival.

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Inspired by a short story by Russian author Turgenev, Catkins follows Mark — played by British actor Mark Tandy (Howards End, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason) — who escapes from London to reflect on his rocky marriage. Waterbird, meanwhile, tells the story of Tom (James Corrigan, soon to join the RSC), a former student whose conscience has been marred by a tragic accident.

Speaking to Cherwell, writer/director Alex Darby explained that, after The Wishing Horse showed what could be achieved, the OBA was happy to invest into making Waterbird and Catkins as good as they can possibly be, with the team even travelling abroad to Paris for the films’ sound mixes. 

He said, “We want to be consistently making films of a good level for students, and that’s why we’ve put a lot of effort into post production.

“It’s exciting to see that more and more films are doing the same, which makes for really good and impressive work, as was evident in November’s OBA screening.”

He added, “Unfortunately, money is a problem with what we’re trying to achieve. It makes so much difference having access to £500-£1000 funding when you’re starting on a film.”

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Darby, who received acclaim for the success of The Wishing Horse and wrote four plays before turning to short films, explained, “I think a lot of people don’t realise the difference between acting on stage and on film. There’s sadly far less rehearsal time, and, for instance, there’s a very different kind of humour required for film compared to on stage. It’s really useful for student actors to try film!”

Darby and Ksenia Harwood, producer of the two films, want to ensure that the OBA builds on its early success once they and other students involved with the recent projects finish studying at Oxford. Harwood explained, “We definitely want alumni to stay involved with these projects. It’s important to maintain a sense of  community between current students and alumni, ensuring that the future generations have advice whenever they need it. 

“We want to make sure that filmmakers can still use some of the Oxford resources when they leave — there are no JCRs to give grants to alumni and it makes things so much harder!”

Harwood also hoped that OBA would provide a framework for filmmakers to be able to share scripts and give one another feedback, ensuring that the hard work and achievement put into their latest films is passed on to future generations of Oxford students.

The kickstarter project will be funded if at least £800 is pledged by Tuesday 23 December. 

Despite his formidable reputation, John Lydon (aka Johnny Rotten) was far from what his Sex Pistols nickname suggests. In fact, he was thoroughly charming. But then again, having the godfather of Punk speak in the Sheldonian Theatre was a surprising association from the start.

From the moment he entered the room, the audience was treated to Lydon’s wicked and playful sense of humour. Whilst being introduced, he couldn’t resist faux-sneezing into his mic from the eves, or commenting gleefully on the delicious sound his bottle of brandy made when he popped it open with a well-practised hand.

The interviewer couldn’t get a word or sound in edgeways. Lydon even joked at one stage that “‘I digress’ should be my new catchphrase.” But his freedom to speak about what he wanted made the talk. The audience was treated to a wide range of anecdotes. Largely unprompted, Lydon discussed everything from his childhood to his current recording of a new PIL album in the Cotswolds. For those interested, spending time in the Cotswolds apparently affected his stools for the worst. Lovely. Although frustrating for David Freeman, the interviewer, it made for terrific viewing as Lydon teased him with the occasional jibe – “Oh, are you still here?” being one of the most memorable.

Most tales were hilarious. My personal highlight was his description of his Dad’s reaction, Irish accent and all, when he came home with his hair cropped and dyed green; “You look like a fucking brussel spout!” was his Dad’s response. His comment that the Sex Pistols were too fat to reform, describing one as “a pear on matchsticks”, set the crowd into fits of laughter.

My own encounter with Lydon was fittingly entertaining. When I asked him whether he would ever stop touring or writing music, he said, “Let’s give you a mic so that everyone can laugh at you.” When the laughter from my dressing down had finished, he finally replied, “As long as there are human beings in the world, I’m never gonna get bored of it. Come on, we’re fabulous as a species, but we can also be vile. But look on the brightside – we’re all gonna die.”

Lydon proceeded to discuss his ordeal with viral Polio at the age of seven. A nervous laugh broke out in the front row when the topic was introduced. Lydon could have taken offence, but instead he replied with a gentle request for understanding. He wasn’t telling a tale of pity, but a truth of his life, one that had left him with no memory of his parents and in a coma for six months. Lydon discussed everything with a genuine sincerity, emphasising his staunch opinion that it is better to be brutally honest than embellish your life with lies. 

Surprisingly, there was only one heckler in the crowd who attempted to dampen Lydon’s high spirits. When Lydon expressed a lack of faith in any British political party, an elderly gentleman shouted “BALLS!” in the direction of the stage. Some celebrities would have just risen to the challenge. But Lydon made his oration even more entertaining. Instead of telling him where to go, Lydon gave him a festive dressing-down. He told him to go write something himself before he judged the views of others. And in the mean time, Lydon jestingly hoped that “you play with your balls this Christmas, pull your yuletide log and be the first in line for the January sales.”  I’m yet to read Lydon’s autobiography – Anger is an Energy – but if it is anywhere near as witty as his talk in Oxford, it will be a great read. 

Throughout the ages, the printed book has been a symbol of culture, wisdom and the dissemination of learning. After Johannes Gutenberg invented moveable type in the mid-fifteenth century, the book became an essential household object, and its value was often considered in terms of its physical quality as well as in terms of its content. Well-made books are more than just text; they are themselves works of art which many, myself included, would argue improve the experience of reading. Centuries on, books are seemingly everywhere: printed book sales topped £3.4 billion in 2013. Here in Oxford, there are over fifteen different bookshops, including many second-hand traders like Oxfam and St Phillips, while the Bodleian gives students access to over 11 million volumes.

Why, then, do so many articles appear heralding the end for the book as we know it? The undeniable growing trend towards electronic or audio books has no doubt worried many traditionalists. In 2013, printed book sales fell by 5% compared to a 19% rise in digital products. E-book sales on Amazon have been outstripping those of physical books since 2011. The impact on bookshops has been severe, with the number of independent bookshops in the UK falling below 1000 earlier this year, mostly due to a combination of falling sales and competition with online sites. 

The problem is that, in terms of pure practicality, the e-book wins hands down. It can store hundreds of different books and is light and easy to transport. It saves paper, doesn’t tear or stain and is considerably less expensive in the long run. For a younger generation, particularly students, these factors often outweigh sentiment, nostalgia or the pleasure of page-turning. Even more competitive are sites such as Project Gutenberg, which boasts “over 46,000 free e-books”, presenting the reader with the bare bones of the text and nothing more. Not very aesthetically pleasing, but particularly handy when used in conjunction with the ‘Ctrl-F’ function during essay writing. Gutenberg might have been amazed or appalled (possibly both) at what publishing was to become, but he is an apt figurehead of a project which aims to increase the availability of literature.

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Is the decline of the printed book therefore irreversible? And, more importantly, does it matter? Vinyl records, VCRs and cassette tapes all had their time and were superseded, yet the art they recorded has not been diminished. If printed books were also one day to exist only as antique collectibles, their literature would by no means be lost. What would be lost is the romance of reading: the beauty of the illustrations, the almost irrational comfort of feeling a book in your hands and the satisfaction of closing it with a snap when you’re done for the night. But I fully accept that these are sentimental reasons which may find little place or sympathy in the commercial practicality of the digital age.

The future of the physical book may not in fact be as bleak as the doomsayers would have you believe. Speaking at the Oxford Literary Festival earlier this year, Tim Waterstone, the founder of the high-street chain Waterstones, argued that the rise of the e-book is already stalling and that apocalyptic predictions regarding print were “garbage”. Printed book sales still vastly outstrip those of electronic books and, despite the net decline in bookstores, 26 independent retailers opened in the UK last year.

It may be hoped that there will always be readers who cherish a work enough to invest in a physical copy of it. But the most important concern should be that books be made readily accessible to all, and that as many people as possible should have the opportunity to engage with the great wealth of literature in the world. The encouragement of reading is more essential than the preservation of the book, and e-readers should be welcomed as a valuable means of achieving this aim.