Wednesday, April 30, 2025
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Last Supper in Pompeii

Olivia Hicks
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Last Supper in Pompeii

A fresco from the House of the Centenary in Pompeii shows the god of wine, Bacchus, standing at the foot of Mount Vesuvius. Bacchus is covered, neck to ankles, in bunches of red grapes: he embodies the richness of the region’s wines. The delicate and cheerful fresco – decorated with snakes, plants, and songbirds – is a tribute to Vesuvius’ prosperous vineyards, nourished by volcanic soil. It’s really beautiful: soft brushstrokes and plenty of colour, a noble and youthful deity, a hazy, dreamy landscape. There is no sense in the fresco that Mount Vesuvius would one day lead to the city’s complete destruction and the death of thousands of its townspeople in 79 AD.

The fresco is part of the Ashmolean’s new exhibition, Last Supper in Pompeii, curated by Paul Roberts. The enticing title doesn’t do justice, however, to the breadth of the collection: 400 objects from around the Roman world and beyond, covering centuries, showcasing the Romans’ relationship to food and drink. There are artefacts from Etruria and Ancient Greece, exploring the origin of Roman dining culture, and a significant amount of the exhibition is dedicated to Roman Britain, that far-flung corner of the empire. The collection includes the UK’s largest ever display of carbonised foodstuffs, including figs, dates, almonds, and pine nuts from the funeral of a young woman in Southwark, and cockroach eggs from a baker’s oven in London (these preserved thanks to the fires that Queen Boudicca set upon the capital).

Mosaic panel of a Skeleton holding two wine jugs – Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli

The exhibition’s main attractions, however, are obviously the wonders of Pompeii, some on display in the UK for the first time ever. Last Supper in Pompeii displays several iconic artefacts – classics students at Oxford will recognise a few frescos from Mods, including ‘Europa and the Bull’’ from the House of Jason and the ‘Bread Dole’ from the House of the Baker. Food was far from a chore for the Romans, and perfectly preserved pieces speak to the skill and whimsy of Roman art inspired by food: a mosaic bursting with sea-life, from the House of the Geometric Mosaics; a life-size fresco of an abundant garden, from the House of the Golden Bracelet; a painting of a cockerel pecking at pomegranates; a mosaic of a skeleton, with a jug of wine in each hand.

The artefacts speak not just for themselves, but also give an insight into the life and characters of their owners: take the House of Aulus Umbiricus Scaurus, for example. Scaurus had made his fortune in garum, a fermented fish sauce that was the go-to condiment for Roman dishes. Scaurus is proud of his fortune and of its origins, and had commissioned a mosaic showing bottles of garum, and his name in large letters. The contents of Pompeii’s latrines and drains are preserved and displayed, showing that it’s not just artwork and décor that gives an insight into the private lives and diets of Pompeii’s inhabitants. Surprisingly, these contents speak to the rich and nutritious diet enjoyed by Pompeiians of all social classes: fish bones, fig seeds, cherry stones, apple pips, blackbird bones, and bones of dormice, a Roman delicacy. It’s always fun to know what people ate and drank, and Last Supper in Pompeii delivers.

The body of a woman in her early 30s, preserved in transparent epoxy resin – Parco Archeologico di Pompeii

It’s pleasing to see an exhibition that celebrates the life and joy of Pompeii. The destruction of the city is not ignored: visitors can see the plaster cast of a pig killed in the eruption, as well as the Lady of Oplontis, who met the same end. Unlike most Pompeiian victims, whose final moments are forever frozen in plaster, the Lady of Oplontis was captured in resin. The translucent quality of the resin shows her in greater detail, with her teeth and expression visible, and also means that she is tougher and less susceptible to breakage – a perfect candidate for the thousand-mile trip to Oxford. There’s pathos too in the small details of quotidian life: a loaf of bread, baked one morning two thousand years ago, never to be eaten. But the focus of Last Supper in Pompeii is decidedly jubilant, and more than a little decadent. The curators have included video reconstructions of a Roman triclinium (dining room) and a garden, which spark envy for the Pompeiians, not pity. Last Supper in Pompeii shows us that we needn’t be torn over which way to view Pompeii, as either a tragedy, or a feast: they are one and the same.

Last Supper in Pompeii is at the Ashmolean until the 12th of January. Entry is free with a bod card.

Flagrant Exhibitionism: The Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition

William Atkinson
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Flagrant Exhibitionism: The Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition

There’s something particularly depressing about London in the rain.

Stood drenched outside the Royal Academy, soaked, miserable and clad in a tweed jacket and shirt my Mum made, I looked “suitably artsy”. Or half like I should be running after Andie MacDowell to declare that I’d like to spend the rest of my life unmarried with her. Though maybe I looked more like a lost Geography teacher than Hugh Grant. Arriving inside, I flashed my soggy ticket at the lady on the door and squelched my way into the Royal Academy’s 251st Summer Exhibition. Fortunately, it was more than enough to distract from my encroaching trench foot.

Running since 1769, the Summer Exhibition is the world’s largest open-submission art show. From film to photography and prints to paintings (and everything in between) the show brings together the world’s leading artists of all mediums, both household names and total unknowns. Painter Jock McFadeyen RA curated this year’s exhibition, with over 1,500 works, mostly previously unseen. The result is unsurprisingly eclectic; to quote Mum, ‘a hoot’, and she wasn’t far wrong.

This year the exhibition is nominally linked by a theme of borders; the term ‘theme’ loosely applied as is to Pierce Brosnan’s crooning of S.O.S in Mamma Mia. This is immediately realised (the loose theme, not Pierce’s singing) when entering the exhibition into a room labelled the Menagerie. Dedicated to our national love of animals, it features a brilliantly bonkers mix of colourful paintings, sculptures and photographs of all shapes, sizes and genus. I loved it: a tedious Banksy aside, it was replete with quality, including a gloriously weird two bottomed dog sculpture from Charles Avery. Rather oddly, however, were the wall-spanning photos of Nelson Mandela’s hometown. An inspiration of course, and the photos were good, but amongst the Zoo its prescence felt a little out of place. However, this is quickly forgiven in light of Jim Naughten’s suitably grumpy King Kong, which stole the show and justified the theme alone.

Moving into the main hall, the exhibition broadens out; the room is McFadeyen’s personal focus, and he’s done himself proud. Each wall centres on a huge painting addressing a topical theme. Stand outs include Marcus Harvey’s The Victory – a frenetic mash up of Turner, a nude and what appeared to be an England flag nicked from a down-at-heel pub – and Ben Johnson’s transfixing, perspective-confounding The Space Between Revisited, yours for as little as £108,000. But the main attraction was a huge work by Anselm Kiefer (with a very long name in German) which continued his life’s work of exploring what it means to be European, with a piece that captured perfectly the tension and fractiousness of our contemporary continent. All in all, a room of colour, variety, and serious quality.

Schlepping into the side rooms (my shoes still hadn’t dried), the quality continued. A room devoted to architecture was stoutly bonkers, with cities sprawling into the sky and houses made of rubbish washed up on beaches. But the art really came to life in the rooms with more explicit (and explicitly topical) themes. One room for example, focused on migration and statelessness, including a powerful bronze of a man without a face by Thomas Schulter. Coupled with the film piece, Miss DMZ,  focusing on the Korean peninsula, it captured an enduring sense of isolation and helplessness. Another favourite room centred on climate change, with Thaw, a sculpture of a polar bear and its iceberg home melting. Its flaky texture, though similar to shredded wheat, powerfully delivered a resonate message. The room also held a tiger made entirely out of Tunnock’s Tea Cake wrappers from Scottish sculptor David Mach, justifying the entrance price alone.

Some more standouts still lie ahead. Inventiveness abounds; Tim Shaw’s sculpture of crows bickering entitled Parliament, though not very subtle, was suitably imposing, and Claire Douglass’ The Garden of Earthly Delights, which somehow combines Gok Wan, Trump and all manner of 12+ content in one deliciously naughty whole. Overall, this is an exhibition packed full of gloriously varied and interesting pieces.

Of course, not all agree. One particularly nasty review from The Guardian’s Jonathan Jones decided anything good in the exhibition was European, with the British artwork being uniformly awful, , commenting that this “pitiful array of the overpromoted and the underthought makes you wonder what will become of the British, left to ourselves” after Brexit. What a load of twaddle. Not only does this exhibition show British art in rude health, it shows how wonderfully internationalist British art always has been and will remain. After all, British art can’t be in such bad repute if the world’s best are still desperate to have work displayed in the Royal Academy.

But I would strike one note of caution. This exhibition rightly embraces major global-minded themes, like climate change, the environment or statelessness. But I found the most powerful piece to be David Hepher’s Hey Wayne on the Meath Estate. This contrasted Turner’s classic with a stark example of inner-city poverty. It is a powerful reminder that as much as we privileged art-lovers can enjoy losing ourselves in an expensive exhibition, or recline in armchairs pondering big universal themes, or hope that we look like a soggy Hugh Grant, there’s real poverty that needs addressing in Britain today. It’s almost ironic; this year, unintentionally, the Royal Academy’s best message is a little less art, a little more action, please.

June 10 – August 12th at the Royal Academy (royalacademy.org.uk)

Image Rights: David Parry / Royal Academy of Arts

First black head of an Oxford college appointed

Rachel Cordery
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First black head of an Oxford college appointed

Baroness Valerie Amos is set to become the first black head of an Oxford college, following her appointment as Master of University College.

The former cabinet minister and diplomat is taking over from Sir Ivor Crewe, who is retiring after twelve years in the role.

A Labour Life Peer since 1997, Baroness Amos served in the Cabinet from 2003 to 2007 as Secretary of State for International Development and was subsequently Leader of the House of Lords.

The Undersecretary General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator at the United Nations from 2010-2015, she became a Companion of Honour in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list in 2016 for her services to the UN.

Baroness Amos said: “I am honoured to have been appointed as Master of University College Oxford. I look forward to taking up my role next year and joining a community which prides itself on providing an outstanding scholarly environment, excellent teaching and world-class research.”

“Univ has been engaged in opening up access and opportunity through its Opportunity Programme and I also look forward to making a contribution to that work.”

Currently the Director of SOAS University of London, Baroness Amos will take up the post on 1st August 2020 as the first woman Master of the college.

The Vice-Master of University College, Professor Peter Jezzard, said: “The College was fortunate in attracting a number of outstanding applicants to become its next Master to follow Sir Ivor Crewe in his distinguished tenure in the role.”

“The Governing Body is excited that Baroness Amos agreed to accept our invitation to take on the role from next summer, and we very much look forward to welcoming her to the College and to working with her in the future.”

“She brings a wealth and diversity of experience to the role, including a deep knowledge of the higher education sector, and will help us continue Univ’s outstanding reputation for excellence, access and innovation in Oxford.”

How to Read: the Long Vac

Emily Parker
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How to Read: the Long Vac


‘Once the vac starts…’: a common phrase heard amongst many Oxford students. Whatever their subject, year or lifestyle, Oxford terms can, on occasions, feel like a constant battle for time against an overwhelming current of work, responsibilities and commitments. Essay deadlines, problem sheets, societies, sport: all of these combine to eat into the precious and inevitably limited free time which the typical Oxford student enjoys during term, and it is thus perhaps not entirely surprising that pleasure reading often falls by the wayside between first and eighth week.

As an activity intrinsically associated with leisure and arguably requiring some degree of time commitment to be enjoyable, carving out hours to read with no other aim than enjoying that book can seem nigh on impossible. Indeed, pleasure reading is often (relatively) very time consuming; opposed to the instant gratification offered by a standalone one-hour episode of Black Mirror on Netflix, many novels require several hours at least to fully appreciate and enjoy. Moreover, this enjoyment is not guaranteed; there is always the risk that the book will not be enjoyable, making the idea of spending previous hours on reading it even less appealing. In a world free of time pressures, this mystery is exciting – could this novel be entirely different from what I expect? Will it be a hidden gem, and totally contradict my expectations? But in reality, it simply makes it far easier to veer towards the reliable pleasure offered by other sources.

These ideas tie into wider contradiction between leisure reading and what could be called an ‘efficiency’ mindset. I (and many of my friends) find myself constantly trying to streamline my time commitments and make the most of the hours in the day; we strive to work and use our time efficiently, to constantly maximise the outcome of a time investment. Yet again, it can feel like reading for pleasure goes against this in many ways; beyond requiring a large time investment for only possible pleasure as a result, it also provides very little in the way of other, measurable returns. Spending some free time playing football (for example) not only provides pleasure, but can also be very social and help someone keep fit; by contrast, reading is generally a solo activity, best enjoyed sitting comfortably alone in one’s room.

And yet, the value of pleasure reading cannot be underestimated. After all, there is something which still draws people back to novels again and again, something which means that many of even the busiest Oxford students still have a half-finished novel sitting on their bedside table. The immersive escapism reading offers is in many ways unparalleled, it is not without reason that reading is not simply abandoned, but postponed to the holidays, for the ‘one day’ when we will hopefully have more time and be able to fully savour that new book.

Yet it is easy to always think about the ‘one day’ and forget about the days that are passing in the moment. For scientists spending hundreds of hours in the lab and on problem sheets, and humanities students reading literally thousands if not millions of words through the course of a normal term of academic work, reading for leisure can seem like an impossibly inefficient use of time in the mania of term, and it is fair to say that for many, there will be periods (whether a week, a month, or even a whole term) when other activities and work will force reading into the background. But it would be a great shame for the pleasures and value of regular reading to be neglected. Besides the classic value of literature in allowing us to understand perspectives and experiences beyond our own, reading in some ways reminds us of the bigger picture. Time spent reading is a longer term investment in ourselves; while it may not immediately benefit us in terms of our work, social life or CV, spending time on an activity with the sole aim of personal enjoyment (and possibly eventual appreciation) also reminds us that life is about more than the here and now.

So while I will be spending this vac on catching up with at least some of the books I intended to read in Trinity, but never quite seemed to get round to, I hope to spend next term enjoying not only the busyness of life in Oxford, but also savouring moments to read for and by myself.

In the Spotlight, at Last

William Atkinson
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In the Spotlight, at Last

When Theresa May solemnly made her resignation speech at Downing Street, I couldn’t help be reminded of Malcolm Tucker’s description of the hapless Nicola Murray’s resignation as party leader in The Thick of It: the ending of a chapter that nobody enjoyed reading. It’s a cruel insult to a lady who worked tirelessly in pursuit of what she thought were her country’s best interests. But it also rings true. May’s short and turbulent premiership has left Britain bitterly divided and politically dysfunctional. She hands her successor the most poisonous political chalice in recent history, mostly of her own making. However, in spite her faults and failures, many would consider that successor to be even worse. 

Boris Johnson needs no introduction. For committed critics, Johnson’s sins are legion: he is a reactionary, philandering, incompetent oaf. By contrast, ardent supporters portray him as a second Winston Churchill: a bullish Tory providentially arriving at his nation’s darkest hour. Either way, Johnson enters office with unprecedented challenges on multiple fronts. In the last few days, we’ve seen an insight into how Johnson might cope with such issues, in the position he has coveted for so long.

For many, whatever Johnson does won’t be enough to tackle their natural apathy. Through his long and eventful political career editing The Spectator, leading the Leave campaign and proving himself to be an undiplomatic Foreign Secretary, he has accumulated an endless list of enemies and detractors. I have had many doubts about Johnson; with a distaste for some of his foolish behaviour, his appointment caused me some severe trepidation. Yet, I’m cautiously optimistic. To the dismay of many, it cannot be denied that his first week has seen him get off to a flying start. He’s marked a decisive and welcome change from the incompetent technocracy of Theresa May. His cabinet appointments, policy announcements and rhetoric herald a government ready and willing to tackle some of our major national problems. Most importantly, he has outlined a hopeful, confident and outward-looking future for a Britain that has so often seemed narrow-minded and demoralised under his predecessor.

However, it’s still the case that Boris has become PM in what even an optimist might call less than ideal circumstances. Politically, he finds his position under attack from every side. His parliamentary majority is paper thin, and dangerously reliant on hostile MPs. Outside the Commons, Johnson competes in a new world of four-party politics, with Jeremy Corbyn, Nigel Farage and now even Jo Swinson breathing down his neck. In Scotland and Northern Ireland, Brexit tensions are being used to advance nationalist arguments, pushing the Union to breaking point. Paradoxically, Boris’ accession is both the beneficiary and victim of a UK steeped in unprecedented political turbulence. No wonder bookies are taking bets on whether he’ll beat George Canning’s 112 days as our shortest-serving Prime Minister.

Coupled with its outstandingly weak political position, his government faces daunting challenges both home and abroad. His domestic in-tray is stuffed. Crises abound over knife crime, affordable housing and, of a particular focus to Johnson, how to successfully approach the so-called Northern Powerhouse. Overseas, issues such as the Gulf tanker incident simply cannot wait, whilst the forces of China and Russia simultaneously push the post-Cold War international order to breaking point. 

Yet, these aren’t even the Prime Minister’s biggest tasks. His victory came primarily as the Tory party trusted him more than his rivals to do in 90 days what May didn’t manage over three years: to successfully take our country out of the European Union. The auspices don’t seem favourable. May’s withdrawal agreement failed to pass through the Commons three times. Brussels has rebuffed any renegotiation, and views Boris with distrust and disdain. A large number of MPs have publicly condemned Boris’ willingness to leave without a deal, and there’s speculation that this distrust could shatter the current government. The man who led the Leave campaign to victory, against all odds, faces an even harder task in leaving itself.

Few predict success. It’s easy to see why the Queen reportedly wondered aloud why anyone would want the job, as Boris kissed her hand and took up his burden.

Prime Minister Johnson has thus entered Number 10 having been dealt a very bad hand indeed. Those who so often dismiss him as a scruffy charlatan must relish their expectation that he’s finally bitten off more than he can chew. The commentariat’s perceived wisdom is that his premiership will fizzle out before it can even leave the launch pad.

But as ever, I’m thriving on being a contrarian. Yes, Boris has been dealt a very bad hand – but in the last few days he has shown himself adept at playing it well. His government has hit the ground running with a confidence and brio that has been sorely lacking for the last three years. Boris has seized the moment and sought to transform the political situation, with greater vivacity than any alternative leader possibly could. Churchill said of becoming PM that he felt “as if I were walking with destiny…that all my past life had been but a preparation for this hour and for this trial… I was sure I should not fail.” Something tells me that this quotation wasn’t far from Johnson’s mind as he crossed the threshold into Number 10. If he can conquer this moment, not only will he go down as our most successful PM since his hero, but as the transformative author of a new age and a dynamic future for Britain.

But where does this transformation come from, and how much is down to Bojo himself? After all, many fundamentals are out of his control, from a hung parliament to an antipathetic EU. But he’s approached the areas under his control with verve, and its paying off. His Cabinet appointments featured the largest political reorganization outside a change of party since the war. Stern-faced and uninventive May loyalists, such as Greg Clarke and Karen Bradley, and implacable opponents of No Deal, like Philip Hammond, were summarily removed. Your opinion of figures like Priti Patel, Sajid Javid or even Jacob Rees-Mogg may vary, but they represent a dynamic and purposeful shift after three years of tepid managerialism.

Behind the scenes, Boris has assembled a formidable team. His backroom staff have mainly come from his time as London Mayor or at Vote Leave. From the former, he has selected policy adviser Munira Mirza and Chief of Staff Sir Edward Lister: experienced operators proven to be more than capable to take on such tasks. Most importantly, however, was the shock appointment of Dominic Cummings as his chief adviser. This more than anything else showed me this government was going to be far from business as usual. Cummings is a Marmite maverick, and anyone who saw Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of him for Channel 4 can attest that he combines a unique mind with an approach that takes no prisoners. Yet, he successfully drove reform through an intractable education department, and pulled off one of the greatest upsets in British political history when heading up Vote Leave. He’s the perfect man to shake things up in Whitehall after Theresa May’s years of sterile stagnation.

Moreover, in the last week Boris has used his unique talent for cutting through to the wider public to bolster his apparently precarious position. He’s announced popular policies for areas within the public’s priorities, whether that’s 20,000 more police on the streets, more frontline funding for hospitals or long overdue investment in the North. You may loathe the man, but it can’t be said his agenda isn’t one that much of the public is crying out for. Whether these promises can be realised remains to be seen, but the immediate public response seems favourable. The Tories have rocketed back to their largest polling lead in months, including in Wales for only the third time in living memory. The Bojo bounce is real; it simply remains to be seen how quickly the ball comes back down to Earth.

For the time being, however, Boris can be satisfied with the reaction. Johnson’s initial public support is essential for addressing the two places that will decide his fate in the next few weeks: Brussels and the House of Commons. By bolstering his support nationally, the Prime Minister hopes to pressure both the EU and his backbenchers to come to terms. The current opinion in Brussels is that Boris won’t be able to pull off a No Deal Brexit, with the government either being brought down before October 31st, or the British outcry against the situation forcing the government back to the negotiating table almost immediately. By convincing them he’d win a general election on his platform, Boris can push MPs into supporting his government, demonstrating to Brussels that he is serious about No Deal.  By appointing Cummings and preconditioning the recommencement of negotiations on the removal of the Irish backstop, the Prime Minister is showing a newfound stubbornness, which May’s government lacked. Whether Johnson’s gamble pays off is yet to be seen, but it certainly makes a change from May’s series of capitulations.

But perhaps the biggest change of the Boris era has not been of personnel or policies, but of tone. Soon after entering Downing Street, Theresa May was the most popular post-war Prime Minister according to polling. This was primarily because of her message: not only was she seen as tough and patriotic, but her claim to want a country that works for everyone and to tackle various burning injustices struck a deep chord with a public so desperate for change that they would vote to Leave the European Union. Via a terrible general election campaign, she became a demoralised Prime Minister, who was pigeonholed by the civil service into a style of bland technocratic managerialism with a tone of hollow platitudes. This has led to a deeply disappointing legacy.

May failed to understand that the Brexit result was a vote of confidence in the United Kingdom and its future. Her Home Office tunnel vision transformed it from a push for national renewal into an attempt to simply clamp down on immigration. As such, we had her appalling tone deafness with the Windrush Scandal or that appalling policy of getting employers to register the number of foreign nationals they employed. By the time that Prime Ministerial Jaguar left Downing Street, the optimism of the transformative agenda she initially outlined was entered long gone, and she left the country in a state of disillusion and despair.

Boris has struck an instant and positive contrast, with his opening speech outside Number 10 affirming his confidence in Britain’s future and its potential. But it was at the Despatch Box where he proved revelatory. Boris has had less Parliamentary experience than any other Prime Minister since the war. Traditionally, his strengths lie in speeches to public crowds, or newspaper columns, or meet and greets in packed shopping centres, not in the pompous verbal jousting of the Commons. Expectations were thus low for his House debut as Prime Minister. He entered to jeers from the Labour bench and a muted silence from his fellow Tories. His speech was received with some support, but it was in his response to Corbyn that he really found his voice. In less than seven minutes, he had the Tory benches clamouring for more and the Opposition looking shell-shocked as he hammered into the Opposition leader. Many Conservative MPs with serious doubts about whether Boris was up to the job would have left with those fears well assuaged. 

So what does all this enthusiasm add up to? I’d argue it gives good grounds for optimism. Of course, a new face (and haircut) in Downing Street, some high flights of rhetoric and a few good announcements don’t instantly overcome the many obstacles that Boris, his government and our country face. But they can help. Theresa May promised change but delivered precious little. But if Boris can pull of all he promises, history may well consider her premiership an embarrassing interlude, an accidental aberration before the installation of the Vote Leave government needed since June 24th 2016. Boris’ government could prove just as hollow as May’s ultimately did, but at least he’s already backing his rhetoric with action.

So I’m optimistic for future under Prime Minister Bojo. I got into politics because I care about tackling the social injustices like poverty and prejudice than blight our society. My vision of Britain is a fundamentally optimistic one. Opportunities should be open to anyone and everyone, no matter their class, race or sexuality. With the most diverse Cabinet in history, a liberal Prime Minister and an agenda in place to tackle the country’s inequalities and deliver Brexit, I believe Britain’s best years can lie ahead. I’m sure I’ll have to eat humble pie sooner rather than later. But hopeless optimism isn’t always too bad a quality; after all, it got Boris Johnson all the way to Number 10.

Review: Arkells at ULU

Simone Fraser
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Review: Arkells at ULU

I have to admit, there was a part of me that considered staying home on 25th July and not going to the Arkells gig at ULU, London. It was the hottest day in 150 years, I was going solo, and I’d spend far too much time day drinking, and far too little time sleeping over the past week. Even though gigs are my favourite places to be, I knew it would be a sweaty one, and I could only pray that the venue had air conditioning. But at 6pm I dragged myself onto the Oxford Tube (complete with Tesco meal deal) and headed on down to London. My god am I glad I did.

A bit about Arkells. They’re an alt rock band from Ontario: lots of energy, charisma and sound, and a phenomenal stage presence characterize them. Fairly big in Canada, they only really broke onto the UK scene last year supporting Frank Turner as he toured around the country. I first saw them at Oxford O2, 5th May, and once they started playing, I didn’t want them to stop – and considering that Turner is my favourite artist this is pretty high praise. The entire band quite clearly adore performing, especially front-man Max Kerman who really captures the attention of the crowd with a combination of startling magnetism and smooth dancing. I spent the whole of Trinity that year listening to their latest two albums, High Noon (2014) and Morning Report (2016) on repeat, and by the time they dropped their latest, Rally Cry in October 2018, I was a solid fan.

But back to the gig. It was, as anticipated, incredibly sweaty (although they did have air con), but I have to say that I don’t think anybody cared. For the entirety of their nearly two hour set the crowd was having a brilliant time, dancing, as Kerman instructed us to, like nobody was watching. Arkells are unusual in that they have no stand-out hit, but many equally well-loved tracks: my person favourites are ‘Leather Jacket’, ‘And Then Some’ and “Private School Kids’, but there are just too many to pick. Their old pal Frank Turner was enjoying the gig with the rest of the crowd, and everyone there, many of whom know of the Arkells for the same reason that I do, went wild when he came onto the stage at the end to do a duet of Proud Mary, along with Jess Guise, his fiancé and the support act, amongst others.

Yet there are a lot of really good rock bands out there, so what is it that makes Arkells so special? Part of it is the aforementioned charisma, but the also the commitment to being genuinely good people, and using their platform and music to help other people. The band has thrown their support behind Rainbow Railroad, a charity dedicated to helping LGBTQ youth who are forced to leave home, by auctioning off signed Doc Martens, and raising awareness across their social media platforms. Indeed, the most special part of the gig was when Kerman jumped into the crowd to serenade two women who were getting married the week after and were planning on having their first dance to an Arkells song. This kind of personal support and care make them stand out from the usual indie bands that can be found across the world. It’s easy to see how the band have slotted into the same music community that artists like Turner, Felix Hagan and the Family, Laura Marling and others are part of. Their fans aren’t just encouraged to support their music, but to look out for other people at the gigs and beyond. 

Indeed, if you were planning on going to a gig solo, Arkells would be one that I definitely recommend. I ended up running into two people I knew from previous gigs and making several new friends just from the people who were standing around me. I’ve been to a hell of a lot of gigs, but this was perhaps the one with the strongest sense of community, and feeling safe and relaxed makes every experience so much better. Overall, this was one of the best gigs of my life, and I don’t say that lightly. Although Arkells tour primarily in North America, they’ll certainly be back in the UK in 2020, and I would encourage you all to listen to them. All I can say is that none of the friends I’ve persuaded to check them out have regretted it yet…

Let’s talk about… Diner Days

Becky Harrington
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Let’s talk about… Diner Days

Find Becky’s playlist here

During my A Levels, I worked as a waitress in an American 50s-themed diner not far from my house. Part of the reason I applied for it over other waitressing jobs in the area was my love for 50s and 60s music, which had developed from when I was young. It began through a love of girl bands like The Supremes to a wide-ranging interest in blues from the 30s and 40s that had inspired the Rock’n’Roll, Soul and Motown movements that followed. This playlist is a (very limited) selection of sentimental songs from my time working in the diner, as well as other fond memories and discoveries from the 20 years I’ve been around so far. Enjoy!

Long Tall Sally – Little Richard (1956)

When the diner was really busy, this song was so fitting. The loud chatter, the sizzle of the fryers in the kitchen, the rumble of the milkshake blenders. Waitresses weaving between tables on the checkered floor with trays of drinks. The arms of those more skilled than I were often lined with 3 or 4 plates of burgers, hotdogs, fries, pancakes, and waffles. Long Tall Sally’s driving 12-bar-blues rhythm accompanied the fast pace of a packed restaurant perfectly, punctuated by the chef’s frantic ringing of the bell, which signaled to us to collect food from his cramped kitchen. 

The First Cut Is The Deepest – P.P. Arnold (1967)

I could listen to this song every day until I died. The unusual instrumentation of this record, apparently inspired by similar choices made by The Beach Boys, is what really makes it stand out to me. The intro, plucked out on the harp rather than guitar (most common at the time), opens the song with a vulnerability which is carried through by the lyrics. There are some great interviews with the producer, Mike Hurst, and Pat Arnold herself on the episode of Radio 4’s Soul Music, which you can – and should – listen to as a podcast.

Rubber Biscuit – The Chips (1956) 

This song is featured in all its chaotic glory in Mean Streets, a 1973 Scorsese film starring Harvey Keitel and Robert De Niro which is one of, if not my favourite film. The song fits the scene perfectly, providing the soundtrack for the characters’ drunken stumblings shown via some brilliant but quite nauseating shots. Some other musical gems featured in Mean Streets are Be My Baby by The Ronettes and I Love You So by The Chantels, along with some amazing Italian pieces.

Stormy Weather – Etta James (1960)

I loved listening to this when the diner was quiet and we’d be busying ourselves with sweeping and cleaning tables. It is lusciously mopey and always put me in a certain mood, one that I’ve only really experienced working that job. There was the resentment that I’d feel while scooping a mixture of condiments and pieces of napkin out of a pint glass left kindly for me by a customer, but that would be combined with a strange enjoyment and pride in it all. I think that enjoyment came from feeling as though maybe if someone peered through the blind-slatted windows at me working away, I’d look as though I could be in The Waitress, or an Edward Hopper painting, rather than in 2017, working in an imitation diner in a London suburb, next to a Pizza Express.

Runaround Sue – Dion (1961)

There’s not much to say about this song other than that it’s great and, although I don’t condone the breaking of hearts, Sue sounds like she’s having a great time.

Why Do Fools Fall in Love – Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers (1956)

As you can probably tell from the pitch of Frankie Lymon’s voice, this group really was made up of teenagers. In fact, Frankie was only 14 when the song was released in 1956. The lyrics of this song were apparently inspired by a line from a love letter given to a member of the band: “Why do birds sing so gay?” It was a smash hit in both the US and the UK, and played a vital part in earning the band and their mishmash doo-wop / rock’n’roll style lasting fame in the years to come.

Is That All There Is? – Peggy Lee (1969)

This song is a relatively recent discovery for me. The anecdotal style of it may not be to everyone’s liking, and I can imagine that there’s a certain type of person who would get pretty riled up by the song’s overall message. They might find the song cynical, the sense of resignation that comes across in the lyrics obnoxious, or maybe simply an unhelpful perspective to have on life. Maybe I’d agree with the obnoxious element of that. I don’t think of the tone as pessimistic as such, but rather kind of… satisfied, and equally satisfying to listen to. It seems to me that people spend far too much time searching for significance in every event and interaction. This song’s acceptance and even embracing of the fact that life is often underwhelming and inconsequential is refreshing. Perhaps the more important message from the song is just that life happens and then it’s over, so making yourself and others happy is all you need to concern yourself with. Sounds alright to me. 

Smokestack Lightnin’ – Howlin’ Wolf (1956)

Our most popular burger at the diner! This one was cheese, bacon and a smoky BBQ sauce. 

Shake, Rattle and Roll – Big Joe Turner (1954)

Another song that gave its name to one of our dishes at the diner. I’ve built such an odd sensory connection between these songs and the meals they represented. Whenever I hear Shake, Rattle and Roll, I think of chicken nuggets. Perhaps nobody else will get quite that level of enjoyment out of the song, but it’s catchy anyway. 

Come See About Me – The Supremes (1964)

It was really hard to limit my Supremes hits to just this one. Motown is a favourite genre of my mum’s, so I grew up loving 60s girl groups like The Supremes and The Shirelles. The Supremes might be more famous for ‘Baby Love’ and ‘Where Did Our Love Go’, but ‘Come See About Me’ still managed to top the charts twice and the backing singers really make the record for me.

I Am In Love – Ella Fitzgerald (1956)

This gorgeous song was written by Cole Porter in 1953. It became a classic, and was covered and re-covered by a multitude of artists, like the majority of popular songs in the 50s. I’m particularly keen on the Ella Fitzgerald version, since her impressive vocal range gives her the ability to portray superbly the conflicting emotions of a person in love. Do I order cyanide or order champagne?

I Put A Spell On You – Nina Simone (1965)

Though this was originally written and performed by Jalacy “Screamin’ Jay” Hawkins, I had to choose the Nina Simone version for this playlist. Her voice is truly enchanting, making it ideal for this particular song. And really absolutely anything else.

Mack the Knife – Bobby Darin (1959)

Did you know that this song is the English version of Die Moritat von Mackie Messer, from Brecht’s 1928 Threepenny Opera? I didn’t until a couple of months ago when I was reading about Brecht’s drama for my degree. I’d always liked this song regardless, and when it came on in the diner it always gave my menial tasks a sense of glamour that they really didn’t deserve. It tells the story of an infamous killer, lurking around every corner for his next victim. The delivery of the song is almost smug, and it really plays into the idolisation of famous criminals that can be seen from the gangsters of the 20s and 30s all the way up to the present day and our generation’s sick fascination with Ted Bundy and the like. 

Unchained Melody – The Fleetwoods (1959)

I love this song. Yes, it is hard to listen to The Righteous Brothers’ version without picturing Patrick Swayze and a pottery wheel. Although I’m not especially opposed to that image, it puts some people off. There is, however, an earlier version of the song, recorded by The Fleetwoods in 1959, which is of a quite different style. It’s completely stripped back instrumentally, leaving only simple, gentle vocals that swell with harmonies every now and then, before sinking back to a low, solitary voice. 

Crimson and Clover – Tommy James & The Shondells (1968)

A regular in the diner would groan at me when I’d put this one on. “Really? This one? Bit of a downer isn’t it?” I didn’t really see what he meant, as to me the song seemed like a pretty upbeat love song. It’s chord progression is as simple as they come, but it’s so pleasing to listen to. What makes this song unique (on this list at least) is the use of the tremolo effect on the vocals at around 2:30, a technique usually reserved for guitar. It’s ridiculous, but I like seeing people’s faces when they first hear it. 

Take Five – The Dave Brubeck Quartet (1959)

The title of this song comes from its unusual 5/4 time signature. It wouldn’t be a shock if you recognised this one, given that it soon became one of the best selling jazz singles of all time. It’s been used in a plethora of films and adverts too, for good reason. 

Sh-Boom – The Chords (1954)

One of the vegetarian dishes in the diner, which were few and far between. This one was a mushroom burger. Sh-Boom. Mushroom. Get it? A bit tenuous, I know. 

The majority of my favourite songs are impossibly sad, which makes sense because I guess there’s a lot more to say about heartbreak than when things are actually going quite well. This song, though, is pure happy-go-lucky doo-wop gold and is definitely still a favourite.

The Leader of the Pack – The Shangri-Las (1964)

Another one that I’ve known since, well, since I’ve known music. The dialogue at the beginning of this song and the “he’s so totally dreamy” stereotypes of wearing Jimmy’s class ring and ‘getting a ride to school’ from a sweetheart slot this song firmly into the 60s girl group scene. What makes it fall into the smaller, even more ridiculous category of ‘teen tragedy’ or ‘splatter platter’ is Jimmy’s sudden and gruesome death. The lyrics are so melodramatic and the rhymes so obvious, it isn’t that surprising to hear George Morton claim that he wrote the song in one sitting, in crayon and on a bit of cardboard.

Rockin Pneumonia And The Boogie Woogie Flu – 

Huey ‘Piano’ Smith (1957)

This song is mostly on here for its name. There were many times where I wished I could call in sick to work with a rockin pneumonia and a boogie woogie flu, but I’m not sure my boss would’ve appreciated that joke. 

You Go to My Head – Billie Holiday (1938)

This one is a lot older than 50s, but I’d always put it on in the diner when I got the chance to choose the music. Billie Holiday has an amazing voice and often I listen to her and only her, but on this occasion I’ve whittled my long list of favourites down to this one due to its beguiling lyrics. “You go to my head and you linger like a haunting refrain…”

If you haven’t listened to much of her before, definitely try some other hits like ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ and ‘April In Paris’, and listen to the Soul Music episode on the song ‘Strange Fruit’, which tells its history and goes into detail about her rendition.

Louie Louie – The Kingsmen (1963)

I discovered this song when I was 9 or 10 via the game Donkey Konga, which we had on Nintendo GameCube. The point of the game is basically to drum along to songs on some bongos that you plug into the console, and you’d get points for hitting the beats just right. I loved this game, and only partially because it was the only game where I had a chance at beating my brother. Listening to the song now, I realise that the rhythm can’t exactly have been hard to follow, but I love it nonetheless. 

Layla – Derek & The Dominos (1970)

If this song doesn’t make you want to shriek “WHAT’LL YOU DO WHEN YOU GET LONELY?” then quite frankly there’s no help for you. It’s probably a bit too intense to be playing in the diner while people are trying to enjoy a pleasant meal, and it’s just outside the time period, but when the diner was really empty I’d sit in a booth and blast it loud on my headphones while I folded hundreds and hundreds of napkins. Its contrastive piano interlude makes this song an amazing, if sensorily exhausting 7-minute journey. 

My Guy – Mary Wells (1964)

Yet another one of my mum’s favourites, written by Smokey Robinson. A sweet love song, but as my mum points out, not actually that complementary: “She’s basically saying ‘he’s a bit ugly, not that successful and a bit of a weed but I like him anyways’ which isn’t the height of flattery is it?” Faint praise aside, this song is pretty cute, and Wells gets just a little bit sultry around 2:25, which always reminds me of ‘Fever,’ a great Peggy Lee record that didn’t quite make it onto this list. 

Piano Man – Billy Joel (1973)

This isn’t a 50s song, it isn’t even a 60s song, but it’s got to be on here. When I came to uni, I missed my job a whole lot more than I thought I would. Piano Man would occasionally come on at a pre drinks and everybody would sing along, but I’d often stay quiet to save myself from getting too lost in the nostalgia it caused. I missed the people who worked at the diner and the regulars, the routine, the music, even my garish polka dot dress. For me this song really sums up my experience there, and I think that it’ll always bring me back to that place. It’s bittersweet – there’s the feeling of a community and comfort of familiar characters, but also the memory of a place filled with people who felt like they could be doing something better. 

The people working there were at such different stages in their lives. Me, working out of a longing for a place where I felt that I was welcome, capable and successful, studying hard for my A Levels alongside my shifts so that I could get far, far away from a miserable school life. A young mum who needed flexible shifts so that she could get back to work as well as being around for her son. A glamorous sous chef with a little boy back in Romania and a Hungarian chef working himself to the bone every week, both of them learning English on the job. Though it would be wrong to say that the diner was a bad job, or that working in the service industry in general can’t be fulfilling, it did feel like what we had in common was that we were a team of people who all dreamed of something or somewhere else. 

Well, that’s it! These songs really do represent a chapter in my life, as well as mark some of the milestones in the development of my love for 50s/60s music – and music in general. So, this whole playlist-making process has been quite self-absorbed really, but I hope you were able to gain something from it if you got this far! 

Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life

Arabella Vickers
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Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life

Olafur Eliasson’s “In real life”, which is on until 5th January 2020, is a truly must-see exhibition at the Tate Modern. All forty of this Danish-Islandic artist’s installations push you into thinking beyond what appears before your eyes, challenging your senses and your perspective of the world outside the gallery walls. Room after room, the sculptures are enthralling, and paintings and photographs defy categorisation. Each room comes as a surprise.

The most thrilling installation is a 39-metre tunnel, pumped full of thick ‘pea soup’ fog, which confuses and amuses in equal measure. It is impossible to see more than one metre in any direction, and people appear and disappear surreally in the ether.  Entitled ‘Din Blinde Passager’ (Your Blind Passenger), it is both disconcerting and exciting. The colour of the fog gradually transforms from orange, yellow, blue, purple and finally to white, further challenging your senses.  Adding to this assault on one’s sense of sight, one’s sense of taste is also confronted: the fog tastes of candyfloss. Nothing is as it should be: the fog envelops people unnervingly. Nature controls humans – it’s the fog that seems to be playing with us. Unsurprisingly, Eliasson has a keen interest in natural phenomena, hence his thought-provoking incorporation of mist and light in this work.  

Olafur Eliasson’s Your uncertain shadow (colour), 2010. Photo: María del Pilar García Ayensa/ Studio Olafur Eliasson
Courtesy of the artist; neugerriemschneider, Berlin; Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York / Los Angeles
© 2010 Olafur Eliasson

The use of light and shadow is also explored with ‘Your uncertain shadow’. Here, brightly shining lamps cast shadows in four vibrant colours, getting smaller the closer you are to the projecting wall. The different perspectives and the playful element in this piece is particularly entertaining for the younger visitors, who delight in chasing their own shadows. In another room there are several kaleidoscopes, including one which is big enough to be walked through. It feels as though you are part of an experiment. Eliasson’s hope is to provoke visitors into recognising that there is more to these instruments of light than being mere playthings. The reflections, refractions and somewhat bewildering use of space in fact seem to unite the inside of the exhibition with the bustling outside world.  

At the heart of “In real life” is Eliasson’s focus on the environment and the pressing issue of global warming. The array of Scandinavian photographs entitled ‘The glacier series’ displays the melting of glaciers over time, allowing us to reflect on our role in its destruction. It offers a clear yet shocking presentation of the reality of the Arctic ice melting. In the final room, the evidence of our destructive impact on the natural world crescendos. Along one wall, a pin board is covered by news articles and images on this topic. Several films in this room also discuss the exhibition as a whole and tackle the relationship between such artwork and science in an interactive manner. Eliasson does not refrain from making hard-hitting points about the environment. This exhibition educates as well as entertains.  

There is a vast array of material on view, and at times the layout is unclear and confusing. It is too easy to miss some of the highlights, like the fog tunnel, due to the higgledy-piggledy arrangement of the exhibition. Perhaps, however, this is part of the fun: we need to navigate the physical reality, as well as the ideas, for ourselves.

If you only visit one gallery this year, make it this one. It is thought-provoking, fun, surprising and serious all at the same time. Eliasson’s originality ensures there is something to capture all imaginations.

Featured image: Olafur Eliasson Big Bang Fountain (2014). Installation view at Moderna Museet, Stockholm, 2015, Photo: Anders Sune Berg courtesy of the artist; neugerriemschneider, Berlin; Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York/Los Angeles© 2014

The new commission is a betrayal of European democracy – but Europe’s democrats must support it

Angus Brown
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The new commission is a betrayal of European democracy – but Europe’s democrats must support it

The appointment of Ursula Von der Leyen as President of the European Commission is an unabashed betrayal of the great strides which have been made towards a democratic European Union. The progress made with the adoption of the Spitzenkandidat (or ‘lead candidate’) system in 2014 has been singularly undone by Europe’s national leaders. As the German Social Democrats have rightly complained, this represents a return to the bad old days of a Europe governed by backroom deals and political subterfuge. Nevertheless, Europe’s democrats must move past it in order to save the dream of a strong, free, and democratic Europe. For those who work to reform the un-transparent and undemocratic institutions which continue to blight the European project the choice is dire yet simple: support Von der Leyen or face the bloc’s destruction.

Plenty of excellent criticisms have been levelled against the prospect of a commission led by Germany’s outgoing Defence Minister. One of the best, by the Dutch political scientist Cas Mudde writing for The Guardian, deftly highlights how the political manoeuvring which led to her appointment will likely only heighten disdain for the EU’s anti-democratic bent and will weaken the Commission at a critical point. As Mudde predicted, Von der Leyen only won the support of the parliament by the skin of her teeth, and she remains distrusted by its social democrats, the left, and the greens, on whose support she will depend. Her firmest allies, the European Peoples Party and Renew Europe, led de facto by Angela Merkel and Emmanuel Macron, respectively, are the very factions whose abandonment of the popular lead candidates Manfred Weber and Frans Timmermans created this mess. Unpopular in Germany and unheard of in the broader EU, Von der Leyen will likely struggle to govern.

It is vitally important that those who believe in the European project band together to help her. If the new President is weak – as her ability to gain the votes of just 383 MEPs, fewer than the 400 needed to govern effectively, suggests – then the crises plaguing the European Union from Belfast to Budapest will only deepen. When Viktor Orbán agreed to the appointment of Von der Leyen, a candidacy partly engineered by President Macron (a leading opponent of the Spitzenkandidat system), he no doubt made the crucial calculation that Von der Leyen, a President without the firm backing of the parliament’s democratic left, will be weak and ineffective. This is exactly what the European Union’s opponents, from Britain’s Brexiteers to the anti-democrats of Eastern Europe, want.

In order to ensure that the Commission can continue to fight the good fight for a “united and strong Europe” (Von der Leyen’s stated priority) the social democratic, green, and socialist left must work with her, but she must also work with them. Having accepted and supported Von der Leyen’s appointment, the Social Democrats will be looking for compromises from the centre and centre right, and they should receive them. The pledges Von der Leyen has already made – to invest billions in green technology, to fight for the economic advancement of women, and to champion the rule of law are a good start, but they are not enough. One vital concession which must be made is a commitment to the long-term reform of Europe’s political institutions, and a promise that never again will the Commission presidency be decided by a stitch-up engineered by Europe’s national governments against the wishes of its voters. To restore confidence in, and build support for, the European Union, it must fully embrace democracy, a task which it has avoided for too long.

Reforms should be undertaken to ensure that elections in the European Union matter. The Parliament, as the only body elected by the entirety of the union’s people, must take for itself the power to choose the Commission President and the power to initiate legislation. One means of doing this is to create a set of MEPs elected in a continent-wide contest in addition to national-level elections. Parties should re-empower the Spitzenkandidat system to ensure that the Commission is accountable to the people. Whilst the realities of the European Union’s pseudo-federal/pseudo-confederal structure mean that national governments must continue to play an important role in its political process, backroom deals between the likes of Emmanuel Macron and Viktor Orbán must not be allowed to undermine the democratic process. If it is to continue to be fit for purpose into the twenty-first century’s third decade, the European Union must face a serious internal political realignment which puts power back in the hands of the people.

It must also take real action to face up to the problems faced by the continent today. These are not limited to the problems of the never-ending Brexit nightmare or the increasingly rapid erosion of democratic and liberal institutions in Eastern Europe. They also include soaring income and wealth inequality, environmental degradation, and a refugee crisis which has only been made worse by inconsistent responses by the EU and its member states. These are all areas where the European Union has a unique potential to coordinate action amongst member states, and which demand a unified progressive response. To protect democracy across the continent, fight the climate emergency, alleviate the effects of crippling income inequality, and tackle the refugee crisis, the states of Europe have to work together, and only cooperation between the centre, the left, and the greens to empower the Commission can do this. This is a project which would require compromise between the centre right’s reluctance to effect serious change and the left’s desire to dismantle the neoliberal structures at the heart of the European Union, but it is a necessary compromise.

If Europe’s democratic parties fail to work with one another to guarantee a strong, progressive, and democratic union, they will be as good as handing it to the likes of Orbán, Salvini, Le Pen, and Farage. The next five years cannot be wasted on internecine squabbling in preparation for another farcical set of elections that produce a powerless Commission. The nature of Ursula Von der Leyen’s selection as Commission President is regrettable, but the best must be made of it now that she is in position. The fact that the Parliament’s moderate left held its nose and supported her is a good sign that compromise is possible, but it must be reciprocal. At this moment of crisis, vital reforms to transform the European Union from the imperfect reality of what it is to the soaring possibilities of what it might and ought to be are beyond essential. A better Europe is possible – we cannot let it slip through our fingers.

Preview: Lia Mice at Supernormal Festival

Simone Fraser
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Preview: Lia Mice at Supernormal Festival

Lia Mice is someone important. The experimental pop creator and film score composer combines dreamy vocals, and otherworldly sonics to create a kind of pop utopia that feels like something your coolest friend would play you at 3am in the middle of a hot summer night. Her most popular hit, Memory Maps is wistful and light, faraway sounds and lyrics combining together to create an abstract kind of story reminiscent of fantastical worlds like Wonderland: “do you remember a time we’d eat hills of cake and drink lakes of champagne?”. It’s beautiful, and more importantly, it’s unique.

In a time of X Factor and Spotify, it can be hard to create a sound that’s truly groundbreaking. It’s difficult to be unique without being unlistenable, but Lia Mice manages to be distinctive and genuinely good at the same time, and I would be unsurprised to see the chart toppers of 2030 naming her as an inspiration. Her real talent is in using a wide range of experimental sounds to create something beautiful and musical with immersive beats to tie the pieces together. She credits this to growing up partially sighted, stating on her website, “I’m always trying to sculpt immersive sonic landscapes like the ones I grew up in… tape disintegration is part of that too. I lived by my Sony Walkman and played so many tapes to the point of destruction. I love that sound.”. Lia’s not the only one who loves her sounds: she’s played everything from a clock tower in Manhattan to a Buddhist Temple in Tokyo, and has thousands of worldwide fans on social media. Her music feels like something to move to, and it’s unsurprising that so many people are keen to hear it live.

Yet we’re especially lucky because Lia is coming to Oxfordshire very soon. The producer will be taking part in Supernormal, a three-day experimental arts and music in Braziers Park, aiming at showcasing the most innovative talent from around the world. The festival aims not just to showcase fantastic artists, but to do so in a way that’s as accessible as possible for everyone regardless of background. I’d encourage you to go, not just to see Lia, but to experience something that looks like a truly exciting addition to England’s cultural scene.

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