Monday 7th July 2025
Blog Page 573

Review: Amber Run

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Amber Run, the indie rock band from Nottingham, are on their first ever world tour. After their Oxford gig, which happened on 18thOctober, they’re heading across the pond with their newest album, Philophobia. The band still feels just as innovative and grounded as they were in 2015, but word is spreading about their beautiful-yet-almost-mainstream music. It’s an alluring combination that Oxford seems to have picked up on.

Opening with the album’s exhilarating combination “Leader Countdown” / “Neon Circus”, it was easy to sense the crowd’s hunger after a more sultry support act. But rather than just rattle through Philophobia, they instead performed a set that encompassed a lot of their musical history: as lead singer Joe Keogh repeated, “we’ve got three albums… we’ve got a lot to get through.” Philophobia is closer to Amber Run’s lyrical debut album 5am than the rhythmic For A Moment, I was Lost, allowing the band to weave new songs with old. Back in the limelight after two years, it seemed like Amber Run were keener to reward long-time fans than to sell their newest album.

The supporting act was Stereo Honey, best known for their indie hit “What Makes a Man”. Vocalist Pete Restrick has a disarmingly luxurious falsetto, easing us into an eclectic-yet-directed mix of drum-heavy acoustic indie. Indeed, for the entry into “sad boy territory” (Keogh’s words, not mine), the band invited Restrick back for a mic-sharing rendition of “Affection”, straight off of Philophobia. The duet was a perfect example of the dichotomy of Amber Run’s style, at once both touchingly intimate and freshly energetic. Amber Run is undeniably sexy; Keogh wears his heart plainly on his sleeve as he sings. Although there were frustrating balance issues from the sound deck, the grittier reverb only further enhanced the sense that the high-octane band were barely contained by the four walls of the O2.

Spirituality, love and loss were all covered in the exhaustive set. Older anthems such as “Just My Soul Responding” were interwoven with the richer, vulnerable songs of Philophobia – “The Darkness Has a Voice”, “What Could Be As Lonely As Love” and “Carousel”. Perhaps the most memorable moment was the emotional “Amen”, a stand-alone single with Amber Run’s usual smoke-and-drums stripped away to expose the raw beauty of Keogh’s voice as he sings their most painful song. This poignancy continued with “Haze” and “Dark Bloom”, demonstrating the breadth of the set and Amber Run’s emotional generosity. As the band climbed back up in energy, the audience matched the energy of renditions of die-hard favourites such as “Noah” and “Spark”. Despite a few heckles, Amber Run had correctly judged the crowd as a more-than-casual group of listeners. 

Even their final anthem, “No Answers”, wasn’t quite enough for the crowd, and Amber Run returned to the stage one last time for a generous three-song encore, finishing with their biggest hit, “I Found”. No-one could be left disappointed.

Oxford stands against transphobia

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A demonstration in support of trans rights will be held today in response to a meeting of self-described feminist group Woman’s Place UK (WPUK). WPUK was established in 2017 to oppose the trans rights enshrined in changes to the Gender Recognition Act, and has been widely condemned as transphobic.

Trans Action Oxford, who are organising the demo, decided not to directly protest the WPUK event, but instead hope the demonstration will show solidarity with the trans community. They said that rather than “play[ing] into their narrative of false victimhood, we are looking to re-centre trans voices, and to discuss trans issues alongside cis allies in a respectful and tolerant manner.”

A Woman’s Place UK was set up to campaign around proposed changes to the Gender Recognition Act and now describes itself as a group “united by our beliefs that women’s hard-won rights must be defended.”

However, they have been widely criticised for comments made by many of their speakers about trans rights. Trans Action Oxford said: “‘A Woman’s Place’ was set up to oppose changes to the Gender Recognition Act which would improve trans people’s lives, and has since maintained a focus on undermining trans rights.”

They added that previous speakers “have affirmed their desire to ‘drive [trans people] out of public spaces’, and characterised trans women as ‘horrible, hateful, misogynistic bastards’, ‘parasites’, and ‘rapists’. They have also described the high suicide rates amongst trans people – almost half of trans people have attempted suicide – as a ‘myth’.”

However, WPUK disputes this representation. In a statement released on their website, they said: “Our primary aim is to ensure women’s voices are heard and their rights upheld. We are not campaigning against rights for transgender people. Not only is this not our primary aim; it is not an aim of our campaign at all.”

They added: “Woman’s Place UK was set up to ensure women’s voices were heard in a consultation to change a law that would be likely to have a material impact on their existing rights. The government made it clear that it wanted to hear from the widest number of people in the consultation, in particular women.”

Furthermore, Woman’s Place UK said of the quotes listed in the Trans Action Oxford statement that “no speaker has said this at any of our meetings”, except for the description ‘horrible, hateful, misogynistic bastards’, of which they said: “This is a reference Anne Ruzylo made in her speech at our Cambridge meeting to specific trans activists (not all of them trans) in her local Labour Party who had bullied her out of her Constituency Labour Party (CLP). “

Trans Action Oxford released a statement about the demo and WPUK which has been signed by over 120 groups and individuals, including the Oxford LGBTQ+ society, numerous college LGBTQ+ reps and the SU Women’s Campaign. Several college JCRs have also voted to support the statement and the demo, including St Hilda’s and Lady Margaret Hall.

The statement notes that the actions of WPUK members “make our lives harder, more precarious, and more dangerous.”

Some students are particularly concerned about the participation of Selina Todd, a Tutorial Fellow in History at St Hilda’s College, in the WPUK panel. Todd has previously faced criticism for her views on trans rights, but has defended her views on the basis of academic freedom.

Todd has published her views on her website, where she states she believes that “being a woman rests both on certain biological facts and on the experience of living in the world as a woman, from birth, an experience that is shaped by particular kinds of oppressions.”

One student at the college, who wished to remain anonymous, emphasised their concern about how this could impact students. They said: “St Hilda’s college and the History faculty should reassess their position in continuing to hire Professor Todd.

“How can a transgender student feel comfortable with the knowledge that their college believes that academic free speech is more important than their existence? Professor Todd has continually made this argument about freedom of academic speech which is not valid.”

A member of Trans Action Oxford also criticised Todd’s role, telling Cherwell: “I think it’s clear that there’s no place in Oxford for bigotry like Selina Todd’s. Her rhetoric is obviously harmful to the lives of trans people across the country, but it’s also worth stressing the impact on any trans students she might teach.

“Studying at Oxford is hard enough without your tutors denying your right to exist, and it’s vital to students’ welfare that they don’t have to face this kind of hatred.”

They added: “We’re hoping for a respectful but communal atmosphere to recognise the importance of solidarity and the need for future work.”

Todd denied claims that she was transphobic, telling Cherwell: “The claims that I am transphobic or ‘deny’ anyone’s existence are groundless and defamatory. I am very proud to be speaking at the meeting called by A Woman’s Place UK. Woman’s Place UK is not transphobic.

“Given that sex harassment affects many female students and staff in UK higher education, and the sex pay gap within higher education is higher than the national average, I consider sex discrimination a pressing issue. The speech will be recorded and available for all to listen to on the Woman’s Place website.

“I never suggest that students should agree with my views on this or any other matter. I encourage debate and fully endorse the University’s position that ‘free speech is the lifeblood of a university.”

The member of Trans Action Oxford who spoke to Cherwell emphasised the support the demo has received from around the city: “I think one thing I wanted to note in general is just how amazing a lot of the support we’ve got from around the university and the city has been.

“It’s been really inspirational to see almost 400 people already responding to our Facebook event, and to get the signatures of so many students, fellows, residents, and organisations. We’ve already got signatures from several common rooms, campaigns, and societies and expect to get still more. The show of solidarity is amazing and really shows there’s no place in Oxford for transphobia.

“The University needs to make sure it improves welfare support for trans people and makes the process of transition easier. It’s simply unacceptable that, according to the Trans Report 2018, almost every trans person at the University has experienced issues with their mental health.”

The Trans Report also found that nearly 2/3 of students had experienced transphobia or discrimination in the University.

Woman’s Place UK described Trans Action Oxford’s open letter as “full of false claims about our campaign which we believe to be defamatory.”

“We are therefore extremely disappointed to see signatories to this letter who cannot have done any research into what we stand for. We are sorry they have been so misled. We have not pushed trans voices to the edges. In fact, we have had trans speakers on our panels, and many other trans people have attended our meetings and spoken from the floor.

“We are pleased that Trans Action Oxford accept our right to hold public meetings free from intimidation and harassment and are holding their protest elsewhere. Sadly, this has not been our general experience.”

A spokesperson for the University said: “‘Oxford University prioritises protecting academic freedom and robust expression of opinion and debate, while not tolerating any form of unlawful discrimination, harassment or victimisation.

“We equally aim to create an inclusive trans-friendly culture, workplace and learning environment, free from discrimination, harassment or victimisation, where trans staff and students are treated with dignity and respect.”

A spokesperson for St Hilda’s college said: “St Hilda’s College cannot comment on individual college members. St Hilda’s College takes seriously the duty to protect and promote freedom of expression within the law. St Hilda’s is totally committed to the welfare and support of all its academics, staff and students. We aim to create an inclusive culture, workplace and learning environment, free from discrimination, harassment or victimisation, where all people are treated with dignity and respect. We aim to make all members of the College feel welcome, safe, valued and supported so that they can achieve their potential and contribute as a member of the St Hilda’s community.”

This article has been updated from the version which appeared in print to include the response of A Woman’s Place UK.

Interview: Grant Nicholas (FEEDER)

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Talking to Grant Nicholas is like talking to a nice bloke you met at the pub who really likes music. With three platinum records and a host of international hits under his belt, you could forgive him for not having both feet planted firmly on the earth. Yet the singer-songwriter is clearly just someone who’s really passionate about what he does, and it shows.

We go straight into talking about Feeder’s newest album, Tallulah. Released on 9th August this year, the band are soon to embark on a tour celebrating it – including a stop at Oxford’s O2 Academy on 4th November. Grant sees the album as a combination of Feeder’s whole discography:

“We’re just doing what we do, I’ve listened to the album a lot and I’ve really worked hard to keep it organic and not too overly produced, we just want the chemistry and the sound of the band, the shows, what we are and my voice … it came in a very natural way”

Yet although it’s a “classic Feeder record”, there are individual elements that make Tallulah unique. Grant describes the first few songs as coming out of a summer of playing countless festivals, with others swinging back to examine the journey the band has been on since they formed back in 1994. Yet coherence is important to the singer-songwriter:

“as I realised it was going to be an album I started to sort of get more of a concept. I do on albums actually quite a lot, I try to have some songs that are connected in some way, for example on this record ‘Youth’ and ‘Shapes and Sounds’ is very much the same journey and the same story and each one opens Side A and Side B on the vinyl… I know in this world people don’t really care so much about the albums in their entirety, it’s more about putting something on the web or streaming, but it just means a lot more to me as an artist”

That’s not to say that it’s all the same though. Although Feeder have remained with a fairly similar sound and energy throughout their careers, they still aim to have variation within each different album, and showcase the different styles and sounds they create.

“The second half of the album is a bit more anthemic, there’s a song, Kyoto, which shows the more rock side of what we do as well, and I wanted it to have songs like that: I wanted the album to be interesting and sort of evolve in the second half. Because the first half is very bouncy and classic Feeder indie rock… I mean that’s kind of what we are as a band though and we like to have that freedom, we don’t just want to be a one-dimensional indie guitar rock band with just the same tempo and the same speed. But yeah I think the concept was positive, we feel like we’re in a good place at the moment, we’ve got nothing to prove, obviously when things do well for us it’s great, we just want to make music we feel is good”

Yet the journey that the band has been on has been more than a personal one. Over 25 years in the music industry has meant Feeder have seen trends come and go, and streaming revolutionise the way that artists are discovered and popularised. Originally from South Wales, the band had to move to London to even get a chance at a record deal and a larger fan base. Indeed, although Grant doesn’t consider himself part of a particularly Welsh music scene, he laments the “complete waste” of some artists in Wales, consigned to pub bands by the lack of opportunity. Yet has the music industry changed enough since his youth that this problem is now void?

“It’s very difficult because there are so many great bands out at the moment, it’s almost like you’re more aware of bands now because everyone can get their stuff up on streaming and up online, but before you had to scavenge, you had to either have a record deal or actually make a record. It’s a whole different new thing now. So although it’s really encouraging for bands, it’s also more competitive than it was, so it’s kind of swings and roundabouts. It’s great, but sometimes there’s an overwhelming amount of choice. But saying that there’s lots of really, really great new bands around. Lots of very encouraging stuff really”.

One of these great bands is the indie four-piece Novacub, which he says a current favourite. However, his music taste stretches across Britain on America. The Feeder frontman cites inspirations from British punk rocks and The Beatles to Boston and classic Americana like Neil Young, ultimately describing Feeder as having an “almost mid-Atlantic sound”. Yet the singer isn’t a big fan of undue comparisons – particularly being pushed into the same category as Stereophonics and U2.

“I don’t see the comparison between Stereophonics, we’re a completely different band to them. I see the fact that we both come from Wales, and we’ve had some songs that kind of crossover, the radio-friendly songs, but we’re much more of an indie-rock band. The Stereophonics are a different kind of band to us: we’re toured with them … we go way heavier that Stereophonics. We‘re just a different band.

“I don’t think we sound like U2 but I grew up listening to a lot of U2’s music, and maybe the way I sing is in that kind of melodic style – but we’re a very different band musically… people know Feeder… I don’t think there’s much chance that people would come to a Feeder gig and think it’s U2, we’re a different dynamic to that”

That’s not to say that Grant isn’t a fan of these bands, he notes that “they’re all great at what they do”, but wants to emphasise the heavier, indie rock aspect of Feeder’s sound. He personally sees Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, and Foo Fighters as the band’s contemporaries, although he acknowledges that he enjoys it when smaller bands are compared to Feeder in reviews. At the end of the day, however, “we’re not one thing in particular, but that’s what makes us Feeder”.

Although Feeder haven’t done anything hideously scandalous, having such a long career can lead to regrets along the way. One of Grant’s pet peeves is being seen as ‘the band that did Buck Rodgers’. Although he acknowledges that the indie classic played a big part in drawing in fans, and still sees plenty of radio play (and the occasional television advert), he doesn’t like being constrained by a song that wasn’t even intended to be for Feeder.

I wrote the songs for a different band, sort of demo lyrics, and it became it became this massive hit for us when it was never meant to be a Feeder song. It was quite a different sound for us at the time, but it’s become an indie anthem now and everyone knows it. As a writer it’s not my favourite song, because the lyrics were never really written as a finished song, it was just a song for a band and if they liked it they were going to rewrite it. But when the label heard the demo they said you can’t put this away. It was out of control before I could stop it!”

“It annoys me the fact that some people think that that’s the only song… when I think we have much bigger tunes as well. There were actually much bigger songs on radio as well, but people just don’t realise that. Y’know, songs like Just the Right Feeling and Forget about Tomorrow, High… I don’t mind the song, it ticks a certain box, just as a writer I’ve got some songs that mean more to me and I think are better songs… I think every band has a few songs that aren’t necessarily their favourites – they’re often their biggest hits – but if we hadn’t had those hits then I may not be taking to you now. It’s all part of our evolution as a band, and every band has a pop song, and we’ve had a couple of pop songs along the way that have helped us to get to the next record and I’d say Buck Rodgers and Just a Day are probably good examples of that”.

Yet although these hits have endured, the music industry has revolutionised around the band. Grant has mixed feelings on the change from a system based on physical sales to streaming.

It’s good in some ways for us. We didn’t get involved with Spotify until quite late, well a few years back, because the head of our old label, Echo, was very anti-streaming… but I think we’re at a point now in this industry where radio is sort of important, but I would say streaming’s even bigger now. My kids don’t really listen to the radio, they just stream stuff. It’s a huge way of discovering artists both old and new… we’re a really good band to do streaming because we can put stuff on there all the time and that’s really a good reason why we’re getting some new people coming to our shows, and possibly some younger people as well. … it’s a slightly different world now”.

“I mean CDs, how long have they been going now? They could be completely deleted soon, I’m not sure how long that format’s going to last, which is a shame. But obviously vinyls are doing quite well, we nearly sold out of all our vinyl, I think that’s become quite a flexible thing now. It’s weird because we’ve been talking about Buck Rodgers and that song sounds a bit out of date now, a bit retro, because it’s got a CD player in it, and most cars haven’t even got a CD player any more. It’s a whole different world. Obviously I would rather people be buying the physical side of things but if they’re discovering us or downloading us or whatever it’s fine, it’s just the way of the world. No use fighting it, you just have to embrace it”.

Yet despite its music having roots in areas across the globe, the band has fond memories of Oxford. Their gig at Oxford O2 on 4th November promises to have the characteristic energy and vibrancy of every Feeder gig, but in a more intimate setting than some of the dates on the tour. In fact it’s one of the smallest capacities, and Grant describes it as “really vibey” – and remembers fondly the mosh pits of their stop a couple of years ago. When it comes to the music itself, the band aims to play a combination of older hits (including maybe the oft mentioned Buck Rodgers) as well as a decent chunk of their newest album. Overall, it’s definitely one to look forward to – and I’ll certainly be there.

Rebellion and Art

And men in their millions float and flow
And seethe with a million hopes as leaven;
And they win their Will, or they miss their Will
.”

Sodomy Alcohol. Sexual intercourse. Laughter. All that features in any representation of a “Bacchae”, the other-worldly celebrations of life present in Euripides’ tragedy. Amidst the rowdiness, between wine drinking and erotic dancing, a demonstration against the repressiveness of the Theban state may be perceived. While an artistic piece of classical theatre, the political message is blatantly portrayed through the characters’ interactions. In the classical world, narratives and issues unraveled on stage were designed to spark up an emotional response in the audience. While exact knowledge of people’s reaction to this particular play may be hard to acquire, it nonetheless acts as evidence for the understanding that through its portrayal on stage, the issues of the outside world were resolved. If there were ever a need to subvert the social, political and historical order, resorting to the performative arts seems to be a most fruitful alternative.

Described as “an unbroken chain from the crudest mythological pantomime of primitive man down to the severest problem-play of the stern Scandinavian” by Brander Matthews, the principles of drama outlined by Aristotle in his Poetics ensured that the mythos or plot resolved itself along with the series of passions that would have otherwise been repressed in all other aspects of the Athenian social life. As such, in a world dominated by reason, having an outlet for one’s passions, for those feelings that defy logical explanations yet wish to convey a rather important message, the stage as a microcosm for the world permitted its subversion.  Imbedded in representations of myths that sang the mishaps of mortal-divine interactions, were discussions of issues that threatened the lives of their audiences, namely those of conquest, tyranny and betrayal. The ability to identify oneself with the emotional component of these lyrical compositions permitted the development of empathy for the characters on stage, as well as a place and a time where passions found themselves as protagonists.  In a sense, these performances provided them with a place to process their emotional responses to similar situations and warn those who hadn’t about these passion-based threats.

Drama, as with any literary form, responds to its historical context. This performative art, however, is able to transcend the social context, something which becomes apparent at even elementary levels of literature studies. It seems to respond to intricate aspects of the human condition, bodies of feeling which, despite being classified under different terms, despite belonging to different historical eras, are triggered by the same situations, feelings and emotions. As such, playwrights remain relevant, their works treated as revolutionary far beyond their time of first publication. Harnessing this universal power is a determinative fact in the success or failure of any political movement or revolt. The reason for this stems from the understanding that there is more to human existence than causal relations between events and people. Drama is successful, these playwrights are still well known despite shifts in socio-political contexts, due to their ability to display and spark human emotion. Removing the stage and analysing real life events reveals something quite similar.

Emma Watson’s speech at the UN, designed as part of the launching of the HeShe movement, had a definite impact on people listening to it. For months it was used by teachers all over the world to explain both feminism and the art of rhetoric to students. The success of her speech lay in an extraordinary ability to harness emotion, passions and general sentiment, within the coherent structures of logical, linguistic persuasion. As an actress, her delivery moved viewers as subtle changes of tones, stressing of words and timely pauses, filled the room. In other words, by making her politics a performance, she was successful in conveying to viewers and people listening in from all over the world, that particular Will of hers, the same one the Bacchae so often referred to as intricate in human action.

It is this point about the revolutionary ethos of the performative arts which brings into question the potentiality of them as capable of sparking up revolt. Identifying a causal relationship between rebellion and art, while rather tempting, potentially neglects the complexity of a relationship which spans across centuries. Though Picasso’s Guernica undoubtedly responded to the pain and suffering of the Spanish Civil War, it’d be too much of a leap to suggest it was this particular work which led to a development in Republican support from abroad. Though the decision to paint their faces white appealed to the idea of statues, and presumably art, as a powerful revolutionary move, the logistics of carrying it out, as well as the political motivation behind Extinction Rebellion, cannot be explained merely as a consequence of the artistic ethos. It seems, rather, that though a constitutive element of their development, and potentially of their success, art with regards to revolution is not a causal principle, nor a consequence of it. Relations between the two are focused on the possibilities harnessing of emotions, and consequent display of them in a “logical” manner has on an audience. By this, what one wishes to stress is that it is not so much that art is prior to rebellion, or vice versa, but rather that they both share the same goal: appeal to a wide audience so as to convey an important and powerful message.

Picture a circle of people holding hands, dancing around. Nothing particularly remarkable about that, right? Now imagine half of them as skeletons. That’s probably slightly more out of the ordinary. The scene described here is none other than a danse macabre, a late medieval depiction of death as something universal, the end of life being presented as something no one can escape from. Looking at the current political situation (Brexit haunting every broadcast channel across the world, the climate crisis becoming more apparent as we speak) it seems those on the streets, carrying European flags and the threat of Holocene extinction on their banners, are engaging in a 21st century danse macabre of their own. The performative aspect of these events, the artistic component of revolutions, should be considered as an intricate aspect of their development and potentially success. It is, after all, art’s ability to transcend the political, social and historical context of the revolution that appeals to a larger universality, appealing to the emotional aspect crucial in raising awareness of the cause. It is the focus on the “passions”, on that which finds itself at the core of human relations, that establishes a relationship between artistic and political sentiments in times where logical explanations lack the power of persuasion. Attempting to resolve the conundrum of what came first art or revolution defeats the purpose of what might be found at the core of the relationship, which is often hard to define, and perhaps may only ever be resolved on stage. 

Lenin’s on sale again

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On the face of it, our modern cultural landscape is absolutely filled with ‘revolutionary’ things. Some of our most popular franchises have been founded on revolution – what else is the appeal of Star Wars if not seeing a bunch of plucky and loveable rebels topple an evil regime and bring peace and prosperity to a galaxy far, far away? We love the idea of effecting change, of putting our own mark on the world. But take a peek under the hood, and the truth is a little less empowering, and far more complicated.

‘Revolutionary’ stories like Star Wars take place in a world of moral simplicity, in which the bad guys are unspeakably evil, the good guys are embodiments of honour, and where there’s always an exposed exhaust port on the Death Star which, if shot in just the right place, leads to the entire evil regime going up in smoke. It’s no surprise that there have been three Death Stars in the Star Wars franchise to date; it’s the perfect symbol of achievable defeat.

Then there’s the matter of where these ‘revolutionary’ stories originate from. Star Wars, of course, is now under the ownership of Disney, itself the Death Star of the 2019 entertainment world, but any revolutionary story with the reach and influence to get its message out is likely to be backed by one mega-corporation or another. That’s not to say that subversive themes are impossible under this capitalistic scheme; The Last Jedi took plenty of fire from certain corners of the Internet in large part because it actively challenged and questioned the simple assumptions which had lain at the core of the franchise since the 1970s. Ultimately, though, any big Hollywood production with revolutionary aspirations is going to have to settle for a compromise that’s amenable to the floors upon floors of corporate lawyers concerned about merchandising, or appeal to foreign markets, or fidelity to the overall brand. This doesn’t just apply to blockbusters, either; when Disney acquired 20th Century Fox, they took Fox Searchlight, the studio responsible for producing several indie-styled awards contenders a year, under their wing, and will be exercising tighter oversight over Searchlight’s output now the merger is complete.

This kind of climate means that, when films or television with apparently genuine revolutionary aims do make their way down the pike, they exist in a strange, paradoxical state. For instance, the show Mr. Robot launched in 2015 to critical raptures and audience buzz thanks to its scathingly anti-capitalist sensibilities, unfurling a story in which an underdog hacker took on a corporation knowingly nicknamed Evil Corp in a bid to unveil the insidious influence of “the 1% of the 1%” within society. The slogan for season one’s extensive marketing campaign was “f*** society” – that might be fodder for a legion of ‘we live in a society’ memes in 2019 – but back in the comparatively backwater days of the Obama administration, such unrestrained anger was genuinely striking. Mr. Robot has fallen in the ratings significantly since that lightning-in-a-bottle first season, but it’s been able to make its way to its now-airing fourth and final season thanks to a network that’s been consistently supportive of its creator’s idiosyncratic vision.

Mr. Robot is a genuinely great show, but it’s hard to ignore the ironies inherent in its success and longevity. It airs on the basic cable USA network, which is owned by NBCUniversal, a mass media conglomerate with a massive portfolio which includes the film studio Universal Pictures and the NBC network. In turn, NBCUniversal is owned by Comcast Corporation, one of the biggest media companies in the world with a yearly revenue of nearly $100 billion. Comcast is not a beloved company in its home country, the US, synonymous as it is with notoriously poor cable services and an apathetic/hostile customer service, but its monopolies over cable and TV means that its customer base of tens of millions is safe forever. In short, Comcast is the kind of company that Mr. Robot’s hero, Elliot Alderson, would spend his life trying to expose and take down. But in the real world, Elliot’s revolutionary activities are marketing fodder for Comcast, and are routinely showcased at NBCUniversal’s annual ‘upfront’ presentations to advertisers. It’s an equation that’s difficult to square, and which adds a deeply bitter note to the revolutionary thrills of Mr. Robot.

The more revolutionary the story, the stranger the explanation for its existence within today’s entertainment industry. Boots Riley’s debut feature Sorry to Bother You, produced under the comparatively small-scale Annapurna Pictures, had some trouble making its way to the UK. It’s not hard to see why. For one, it’s a film with very American sensibilities, in its brash soundtrack and garish colours, and grounded very specifically within its Californian setting. Perhaps more importantly, though, Sorry to Bother You is the epitome of a difficult-to-market film. It starts with the quirky conceit of a black call centre worker adopting a cheery ‘white voice’ to achieve more success in telesales and accelerates from there into a lunatic corporate satire which makes Black Mirror look pitifully tame by comparison.

While many blockbuster films, especially those of Disney, include some greedy businessmen in dark suits as foil for their lovable heroes, presenting the problem as a few bad apples within a generally acceptable system, Sorry to Bother You presents a capitalist system which has completely rotted from the bottom down. Rather than pulling back from a wide-ranging critique as it goes on, it becomes angrier and more determined in its tone until it presents its solution; armed revolution. The viewer is left with the impression that capitalism is broken and must be burned down by almost any means available. In short, it’s a film that can be accurately described, without judgement, as Marxist in its intent. When Sorry to Bother You was finally picked up for UK release months down the line, it was the UK branch of Universal Pictures who stepped in to give the film a wide release and a mainstream marketing campaign.

It’s difficult to say. As frustrating as it can be for viewers wary of the influence of mass media, so little of the content we consume, even the most rebellious and anarchic of it, comes from a truly independent and small source, and even companies that are independent are routinely tied up in corporate relationships with larger entities, like the deal that indie outlet A24 struck with Apple a couple of years ago.

There’s a kind of vicious cycle at work here, where the greater success of a revolutionary piece of art, the easier it becomes for big companies to monetise and hone into a readily marketable brand, even when the product begins in a genuinely independent place. Either the work of art is made prohibitively expensive to enjoy, as with many recent ‘revolutionary’ art exhibitions, or the message is watered down to the point where there’s nothing much revolutionary about it at all. Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale was an incendiary piece of dystopian fiction back in the 1980s, but its recently released sequel was met with midnight release parties in enormous bookstores and Q&A sessions streamed nationwide to cinemas. None of that prevents Atwood’s book from courting controversy, but it certainly makes that struggle a lot more difficult.

Searching for culture that’s both popular and genuinely revolutionary is a lengthy and frustrating endeavour, ultimately. But the more that films like Sorry to Bother You and shows like Mr. Robot are produced, the harder it becomes to avoid the paradox of revolutionary content backed by companies who would very much like it if the system remained just about the same, and the likelier change one day might come.

Hogarth: Place and Progress

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Prostitution, criminality, madness, lust, and squalor.

William Hogarth’s collection of paintings and prints at the Sir John Soane’s Museum satirize 18th century urban crudities through graphic pictorial dramatizations and dark wit. Brought together from the National Trust, the National Gallery, Tate Britain as well as private and in-house collections, Hogarth’s series use the urban spaces of London’s streets, home interiors, brothels and public hangings to narrate stories of the exaggerated every day. The Rakes Progress, A Harlot’s Progress, Marriage a la mode, and Four Stages of Cruelty amongst others, document descents into immorality as urban fashion spurns on vulgarization, and industrial wealth breeds greed and idleness alongside endemic poverty. Hogarth is a brave critic of London and its moral topographies, and the grandfather of the modern political cartoon; he speaks in generalization but shouts for the injustice of the individual. 

The Rake’s Progress begins with a fortune. A young and handsome son to his miserly farther, Tom Rakewell seeks to flaunt his wealth and status through public displays of indulgence. In ‘The Levee’, Tom, in his own home, is surrounded by court-men of the likes of Frideric Handle and Charles Bridgeman – real life characters, who act as objects of curiosity and symbols of sophistication in his lavish harem of entertainers. In mapping the moral geographies of London, Hogarth moves the story to the Covent Garden brothels, where Tom parties wildly with syphilitic prostitutes, who steal from their inebriated clients. With immense artistic skill, Hogarth generates a dialectic of debauchery; the spaces of the brothels are diseased and dissident, social structures are subverted, yet the scene is paralleled by the extravagancies of the aristocratic drawing room and the criminality on the London streets. Hogarth holds a conversation with society which simultaneously holds account the wider forces industrialization and capitalism and their injustices, whilst implicating the individual in the minutiae of everyday actions both because of and regardless of intersections of class, race and gender.  

It’s a tragic ending. Tom Rakewell ends up in Fleet debtors Prison which prompts his descent into madness and eventual transferal to Bedlam, his existence in the urban ultimately determining his fate. In A Harlots Progress and Marriage a La Mode, shown alongside Rakewell’s reversal of fortune, the characters are similarly doomed; a country girl-turned prostitute dies of venereal disease, and the wife of a murdered husband and hanged lover commits suicide. Hogarth insists on human subjectivity yet utilizes caricature and hyperbole in order to achieve a notion of reality and verisimilitude. In other words he exaggerates plot lines and individuals in order to discern a truth about wider society. The city is the ultimate culprit of social disarray and is an actant in the fates of those forging a life within its boundaries. However, Hogarth is on the side of the riotous, the rowdy, and the disorderly; he unfolds stories with a humour that pervades the real, extricates London’s familiarity and homeliness from the turmoil, and softens his pointed commentary. He is a performer and an agitator – prints are as shocking as they are perceptive- rather than an activist and executes his prints with an agenda to entertain and to receive artistic recognition; despite his own criticism of institutions, he seems to seek their approval.

The spaces within the Sir John Soane’s Museum spar with the curated disorder within Hogarth’s series. An architect and a collector, Soane generated a world of a thousand histories through the juxtaposition of disparate objects; antiquities dating 250bc are placed amongst 19th Century.  It is eclectic, but its arrangement invokes a multiplicity of stories supporting an overarching ‘whole’. This is paralleled in the array of characters and narrations which constitute Hogarth’s wider social observations. The audience’s physical proximity to the pictures – hung at eye level on panels – enables an intimacy with the scenes which engulf the audience in their complexity and playfulness.

Hogarth; Place and Progress offers a striking portrait of 18th Century London life which transects immoralities that permeate all aspects of society. Through parody and exaggeration, he exposes the lived realities as forced by the difficulties of urban existence, and through unrivalled artistic merit generates humour from the squalor and desperation. It is simultaneously heartbreaking and riveting; the audience is pulled through London and its doorways and alleys into a world of dissidence and jarringly human relations.

The revolution turn-over

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 “At least,” a friend of mine started, breaking into the muted normality and sourceless white sunlight of the morning after the referendum “at least we might get some good art and music now.”

It’s an age-old correlative drawn between times of political upheaval and creativity; passionate political convictions are what petrol is to fire and bops are to Freshers’ flu. And three years on, I would argue there is a palpable revolutionary spirit in the air; between calls to topple a monarchy with the power to say ‘yes’ to prorogation, to ones wishing to suspend parliamentary democracy altogether so we can just ‘get Brexit out the way’, and, of course, Extinction Rebellion currently camped outside Westminster, the existing social and political orders are being questioned and confronted from all sides.

While we can debate the chicken-and-egg relationship between art and revolutionary spirit (as Sofia Sanabria de Felipe does here), it’s certainly true that the political situation has given rise to a plethora of consciously political cultural responses. From satire series to street art, and pro-European exhibitions to musical apologies (see ‘The Ignorant Englishman’ by Beans on Toast) frustration and outrage has been translated into agenda-rife wit and beauty.

The thing about self-consciously revolutionary art, however, is that it rarely has a particularly long shelf-life. Perhaps this remains most obvious in pieces that are pragmatically revolutionary; demonstration posters, graffiti, propaganda. Things like Guerrilla Girls and posters of Johnson and Trump’s lovechild are destined – designed, even – to become quickly dated. The frantic energy exhibited in the Dada movement in the early 20th century (insert Hugo Ball wearing cardboard tubes for trousers, pseudo-satanic chanting and an idiophonic triangle) evokes at best a sense of entertained bemusement in a modern audience. At the time, the group’s performative cross-media art was an insurgence against a political system that had emotionally, psychologically and financially bankrupted its subjects. It was anti-war, anti-state, anti-institution; anti-everything – including the institution of language and art itself, through which it begrudgingly expressed its dissidence and because of which it eventually fell apart out of hypocrisy.

A fate comparable to many a political revolution too, coming to think of it.

Another example is seen in the ongoing resentment of modern art (of the Duchamp’s urinal type) which gave rise to the trend of lampooning articles on gallery-goers taking photos of forgotten glasses and misplaced skateboards. Nowadays the old ‘painting a chair red and calling it “introspection III”’ inevitably borders on platitude. We get it, you’ve decontextualized art. But the only reason it annoys us so much is because the revolution was successful; we’ve moved the goalposts, revised the boundaries between art and the ordinary. ‘Modern’ art has become historical artefact.

And yet this can’t be the case for all ‘revolutionary’ art. How else would 1984 continue to be the go-to comparison for governmental overreaches, or the Guy Fawkes masks the symbol of protest and anarchy in light of V for Vendetta?

In a few weeks’ time the Oxford Playhouse will be hosting a performance of Frank Wedekind’s Spring Awakening, a play written at the end of the 19th century and universally either banned or heavily censored at the time. Addressing themes of sexual assault, abortion, suicide, child abuse and sadomasochism, the piece remains unsettling to the present day. At the time it was all the more deeply disturbing for being a direct attack on the sexually repressed society of the Weimar Republic – and all of the institutions, from education to marriage, that perpetuated that culture. Why then, is a play that is ultimately about advocating sexual education, still relevant to a society that is, arguably at least, sexually liberated?

The unifying theme in Wedekind’s disjointed play, however, rings hauntingly true even in the present day. Generations are pitched against each other as the adults’ institutions not only fail to prepare their teenagers for real life but use them as scapegoats for societal ills when their botched safeguarding causes tragedy and misery all around. The teenage protagonists are left to explore, explain and take action themselves. Watching Greta Thunberg accuse preceding generations of apathy, ignorance and looking the other way makes a scary comparative, especially when the response is a life-size effigy of the sixteen-year-old being hung by a noose from a bridge in Rome just over a week ago.

Equally, with unplanned teen pregnancy an ongoing issue, abortion debates, consent issues, a worrying trend in unrealistic sexual expectations in adolescents as a result of unrealistic portrayals in pornography and a lack of proper LGBTQ+ information in sex-ed – it seems like we still have a way to go on the sexual revolution front.

This, perhaps, is the bottom line: pieces remain inflamingly revolutionary so long as the problems they address are present. Once the social or political order is successfully challenged, the pieces take on the status, more than anything, of historical document – just as William Hogarth’s caricatures now recede into the quaint British tradition, as will, one day, the editing of Johnson’s face onto the body of a pig.

In a sense, then, revolutionary pieces that go out of fashion are a sign of successful change. In which case, one can only hope that Spring Awakening, and the performative demonstrations of XR go out of fashion very, very soon.

Art by Amber Mae Yilmaz

Review: Anthroposphere

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From Greta Thunberg’s resounding message to Extinction Rebellions protests and strikes, there has been a major revolution in the way we think and talk about climate change. Every aspect of our lives has become linked to the climate change dialogue in some way, whether it be the food we eat, the clothes we buy, or the companies we support. The general public is growing more and more aware to how climate change impacts our lives at all levels.

    Anthroposphere, Oxford’s Climate Review, embodies the shift as an interdisciplinary journal, which looks at climate change through the lens of not only science, technology, and policy, but also of history, popular culture, literature, and the arts. Released termly, it features material from people of a broad set of backgrounds and interests on four continents, all wrapped  in a beautiful artistic package. Whether it be a feature on the detriments of the Greek mining industry or food security for native Fijians, each article delves into the impacts, seeking to expose climate change as an undercurrent to daily life.

       Anthroposphere has grown into an international publication which draws readers, writers, and editors from across four continents.  Started in Oxford in 2018, it is the first interdisciplinary climate magazine produced by university students. The staff believe that the magazine’s goals are strengthened by greater diversity of perspective and are working with students and young people from California to the Philippines to spread climate writing opportunities. 

Anthroposphere hopes that its accessible prose and style will mean a broad audience will be enticed to pick it up and engage with the daily experience of  climate change, from its scientifically attributed impacts to the most local and personal experiences. The climate revolution cannot fizzle: too much rests on pushing back against the status quo. Anthroposphere hopes it can be a small part of keeping that ember burning.

Review: Cuntry Living

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Cuntry Living is a free termly zine which invites any gender, race, class, sexuality, or background to submit contributions which speak out against the oppression, subjugation and degradation of women – ‘in its many guises’. These submissions create an empowering college of art, poetry, essays, personal anecdotes and everything in-between; with the message of each zine being guided by what every feminist wants to say, and how they want to say it.

Created using the ecofriendly service GreenPrint, the zine is arranged in a punchy, unapologetic pastiche, with the literary submissions superimposed over magazine clippings. The range of media and content is fantastic, with 2019’s summer issue leaping from gritty minimalist poetry, to an interview exploring DIY culture and activism in the context of both the British film and punk scene, to an opinion piece on shaving customs. A few of Kanye West’s more narcissistic Twitter posts even made the cut. However, despite the sheer scope of ideas, the zine manages to maintain a collective and unashamed energy, rendering the challenges of every issue an intellectual delight.

The only real complaint I have with Cuntry Living is its disappointingly minimal reach. A submission invitation in the form of a Facebook event is buried discreetly in my feed every term, and one can’t help but wonder how many incredible potential contributors we are missing by virtue of the zine being relatively unknown. The relaxed nature of each issue certainly credits it with a distinctive charm, but I would like to see a longer list of less familiar names in the next index. And, more importantly, more people experiencing this celebratory message which is ever more important for us to hear.

Send in the Clown

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Controversy surrounded ​ Joker at just about every stage of its production. When it was announced that Warner Bros were developing an origin story set apart from any DC cinematic universe and directed by Todd Phillips, a man most famous for the Hangover trilogy, it certainly didn’t put a smile on everyone’s face. Best described as a character study, the film attempts to dissect the life of an introspective man mocked by society and shunned by his idols, a man who thrives in the shadows of his own reclusiveness. And though this is Gotham City and a world in which the Waynes exist, Phillips firmly lets us know that there are no heroes in this story. Because ​ Joker ​ is not a comic book movie.

Like ​ Nightcrawler, ​ Taxi Driver and ​ I, Daniel Blake before it, Joker holds up a lens to the disturbing and merciless world we inhabit, in many ways a commentary on the material excess and artificiality introduced by social stratification. Arthur is oppressed in just about every way possible, his infectious laugh (quite literally) exposes and isolates him in public, forcing him to intrude into uncomfortable social situations that make you sympathise with a man longing to shut himself away but denied by his own body. This is all credit to Joaquin Phoenix, portraying Arthur as a tortured soul on a journey of self discovery, whose laughter exhibits a combination of pain and anguish that wildly separates him from Heath Ledger’s nihilistic anarchist. ​ Joker ​ is a film about finding purpose, and for Arthur this starts with the epiphany that he not only exists but has some degree of power over others, a revelation which catalyses his transformation. Phoenix imbues Arthur with compelling confliction, in many ways wrestling with the mould assigned to him by societal norms and the identity which liberates him from his woes. At no point will you resent Arthur for his choices, and though you may not endorse it, you cannot help but understand the dark place where his motivations formed.

Shot with intimate close ups and in claustrophobic settings, the cinematography imposes on Arthur’s world, a world in which he exists alone and we as viewers are made to feel uncomfortably intrusive. But our intrusion is punished by Arthur’s unreliable narration, at several points realising that his lack of medication is impeding the truth of the narrative. Part of the film’s triumph is revelling in Arthur’s embracing of his transcendental identity, off his meds and no longer disturbed by his laughing condition, and so it all contributes to the ideological mindset we are delving into.

For all the praise and acclaim Joker has rightly earned, it isn’t without its faults. It is a film that doesn’t know how, or rather when, to end. Several moments that would have served as the perfect point to conclude then gave way to less effective scenes which, without spoiling, threatened to undermine Arthur’s story in favour of being faithful to the Gotham legacy we are all familiar with. The realism of Arthur’s journey feels ever so slightly forced when it decides to tease that mythology at the expense of Joker’s awakening. Nonetheless it is not detrimental to the film’s overall power. This slow, meticulous analysis of the human psyche and social rejection brings something Shakespearean to our screens, and despite whatever skepticism haunted it’s production, ​ Joker ​ will certainly be having the last laugh.