This is the second biopic I’ve seen in the last year. Not usually my thing, I’m not a huge fan of sitting still for a couple of hours, but I make the effort sometimes. The first one I went to see was Control – Ian Curtis of Joy Division. That was an essay in quiet, crushing hopelessness, shot in black and white, funny and grim in equal parts, like the decade it covers.

Telstar, though, is in glorious colour.  It reflects its times perfectly – full of life, new things, discoveries and experimentation. Joe Meek, pioneer producer, is right at the heart of the early 60’s  new mania for pop music – something to DO for the ‘young’, now that they had money in their pockets and time to do things in. Post war austerity seemingly at an end, excesses of every kind kicked in. My impressions, then:

Joe Meek’s excesses were myriad. Work consumed his life, and he consumed the lives of others in his quest for hits, for perfection, for the ideal. He had a ‘family’ around him who could see his genius and worked for it, because they believed in him. He had talent and dedication. What he also had was a sizeable drug habit, in the days when pills were taken like sweets. He already had the arrogance of talent, the conviction that he was always right, and a healthy dose of latent paranoia. Not surprising, given that being homosexual was a dangerous thing to be, back then. We forget. It didn’t make him careful though, because he was arrested in an entrapment that surely never would have stood up in court these days.

That, in the film, seems to have been a turning point, though things had been going wrong already. Meek was a disaster of a businessman. He could not or would not see his own failings, preferring to blame others.  His descent into mania was triggered by so many things – drugs, lack of success, huge money problems,  what he saw as desertion by those he trusted and loved. His drive for perfection cost him a good deal of sanity, as well as friends.  Manipulative, high handed, cruel and given to taking advantage, goodwill ran out for even the most patient.  There’s no sycophantic heroworship going on, on screen. That’s in the story.  

And the bitter irony –  he destroyed those who stood by him to the end. His landlady whom he murdered, and his lover Patrick, who was arrested for that and Meek’s own suicide. Three more weeks… three more weeks and his life would have been so different. Royalties paid, he could have gone on. If he’d gone to work at Apple – who knows what he could have achieved there.

This film is far darker than Control, in my view. The calmness of depression is replaced by the constant action of mania. The effects of pressure are more easily seen, as the instant reactions are on the surface of the man. The film’s  jumping about from flashback to reality to future (or even sideways) heightens that impression. The closed, shuttered, claustrophobic studio, seems to me to be a metaphor for Meek’s mind – look how he reacts when the sun is let in.  The cast played a blinder. They all gave everything in their performances, utterly believable. It’s the situations they were in that weren’t, but it all happened.

Just because I am who I am, I can’t  write this without mentioning Mr Hawkins’ screen debut. Only on the screen for a short time, he made the most of it. He certainly has a presence – well done, Justin. In fact (which is not related to the fact that Justin is in them) the scenes he is in are the only ones that jarred within the film. They in themselves are fine, but I didn’t think they were very well integrated with the rest. The introductions of Billy Fury, Gene Vincent etc were much smoother.      

Go and see it if you can. Joe Meek gave British music a legacy that cannot be ignored.

Chelsea FC, 24.5.09

I quite like Soccer Six. I like football, so that’s usually win/win. A day out, and some interesting sights on the pitch. Cool! I had a great time last year. It was at Millwall’s New Den, and after finally getting my press pass, I was allowed on the pitch, got to talk to some of the teams, took some great photos. When the camera wasn’t blowing up, of course.

So, with high hopes, new camera, voice recorder and some sarnies, I set off at the ungodly hour of 6.45. On arrival at CFC, though, chaos seemed to be the order of the day. My name wasn’t on the press list (again) so lucky I took my email with me. I got a gold wristband, and was sent upstairs. That seemed to be the VIP stand… why was I up here then? Back downstairs, and a helpful Samaritans lady pointed me to the press area.

THAT was a complete disappointment. It was half of the East Stand, including the dugout. The pitchside floor level is lower than the pitch itself, handy if you’re not quite 5′ and the barrier is quite high! So, only celebrities that played on that quarter of the pitch were within reach of my camera. I did go back up the stand a little way, but it wasn’t great. Not enough zoom. You needed a camera the size of me to get anything on the far side. Most of the blokes there were professionals and had all the goods. There was no chance of getting any soundbites from anyone either. There were promises that celebs would be brought over to the press, but I didn’t see that happen. No press were allowed anywhere else in the stadium, either. That put paid to my visiting the other Justin fans on the West side.

Some one did tell me there was a press room, with drinks – but when I asked, the press room turned out to be the kit room for the day – all the teams were going in to pick theirs up from there. Oops.

It wasn’t looking very good, until I saw familiar faces in the stand upstairs. I went back up – after a few trials and errors, I ended up in a service lift to the right floor! There wasn’t any direct access between floors, and after that I had to come out of the stadium and back in again through Reception.    Anyway, I did find people to talk to, thank goodness!

I watched some football. Most of it wasn’t very good – if the girls’ teams carry on playing like that, I’ll bloody well get on the pitch myself. WHO wears their hair in a beehive  to play? False eyelashes? Girls – you looked ridiculous, and made girls’ football look silly as well. Yes, I know it was for charity, and credit’s due to them for playing.  Didn’t stop me holding my head in my hands – being an ex player I suppose I’m a bit biased. It was dirty as well, out there!

The men did better, there were some good moves and a few skills out there. Justin played well, but not for long enough to get really into his stride.  He wants to play every week now, so if you need a player… His Telstar team were knocked out in the group stages.  Next year, it’s gonna be  Trojan Football.  Justin’s already fit, looking well and healthy, so the smart money’s on Team Hot Leg to dazzle and beguile. (Although that might be before kick off :D)

This really is a fantastic event. The teams, the games, the charity, everything. This year, with no access to any other part of the ground or to the players, it just felt like a corporate event. It’s supposed to be fun for everyone! If you didn’t have a professional camera or a TV one, it wasn’t fun. If I hadn’t seen those faces up above, I’d have been there on my own all day, 3 hour journey each way, and had nothing to show for it. I’d probably have gone home much earlier.

There WERE Capello and Sven Goran Eriksson lookalikes, though.

There was a Press donation of £25 payable. That’s a lot when you don’t have an expense account, and I didn’t know about it until two days before. I don’t begrudge donating to Samaritans – but for what I got that was useful from it, I’d have been better off in the West stand with my friends, with a normal ticket. I got my press pass to report for the fans, dammit, not to flog my pictures to magazines and newspapers!

Thanks, Chelsea, for really not making things easy.  From what I heard, the  disabled area wasn’t so great either. Although the stewards were apparently pretty good, it’s not handy if people keep coming to stand in front of  the wheelchairs, is it?

Soccer Six and the Samaritans had nothing to do with any of the niggles. They do a great job. Can we go back to informal, next year, please?

Photos:

by Jo

The BBC, not Justin.. whatever you thought about him entering, this was a… some words fail me.

After hearing all the songs, and wincing in parts, it became clear that this was a Big Brovas/Hawkins and Brown sing off. There little originality or talent elsewhere, a ripoff of the most wonderful ‘Preacher Man’.. and I’ll never understand why a foreign national can represent another country in this sort of thing.

It was gonna be tight, this one. Despite the huge Darkling support, Justin had to win over the public, and he is after all someone about whom there are few middle ground opinions. Big Brovas are knocked out in favour of Cindy. When the unbiased neutral BBC make it look like Justin and Beverlei are up against the dire Scooch, a rat began to stink. The voting most certainly wasn’t between the two, cos if it had been.. we wouldn’t have got that result. Set up and fix sprung to mind. Well done to Justin for leaving the stage that way. No doubt he had a few choice words to say to someone.

Post show, and via Justin’s myspace, information started to flow. People not getting through to vote, text votes failing, Scooch having had Helsinki final tickets on their site for 10 days – that was from the fans’ side. From Jus’s end – his supporting banners were confiscated, Scooch’s were not. Scooch had 2 hidden vocalists in the wings singing the girls’ parts. Now, that’s not playing fair, is it? And really, announcing the wrong winner at the end..

I was waiting for Jus’s blogs after that fiasco of a show. Do have a look. If anyone does want to complain to the authorities, then:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/complaints/

http://www.ofcom.org.uk/complain/progs/specific/?itemid=286480

I would have thought that phoneins were in enough trouble at the moment. I’d also like to know how fans of the other acts got on with their voting.

Everyone vote for The Ark now, ok?

by Jo

Top Gear of the Pops. A disaster in the filming? Not quite..

Thursday night. Happily plonking along on the laptop, not a care in the world beyond the next day’s maths lesson and what on earth I was going to say about baptism by immersion. google alert Justin Hawkins. Oh yeah.. I heard of him. Nice boy with kittens. I haven’t been reading the alerts much, they’ve all been the same stories about Eurovision, but as things were quiet, I had a look. A link to some blog, saying something about Comic Relief. WHAT??? Justin/TOP GEAR/band???? I’ve never moved quicker to a website. Okay. 50 top pledgers to RND2007 get a pair of tickets to filming on Sunday. Closes at midnight. Quicker than a.. a… fast thing I pledge, conveniently managing to forget to mention it to Mr 2. Oh well, plenty of time for that if I win, which I didn’t think was terribly likely once the news gets out. I don’t have huge amounts of cash right now. BUT I did win! What a nice way to finish a school week, finding that email. Mr 2 took it surprisingly well, I must say, and it was his idea to set off on Saturday morning and stay in the wilds of Surrey overnight. (Not that he had that idea until we were on our way to Sainsbury’s on Saturday morning, but a very good one it was.) Guildford is very nice, readers. Anyway, less of the ramble.

After floating round Surrey all day and checking we knew where we were going, we arrived in a carpark at about 6 and had to kill time until collected for a short yomp round the back of the airfield to the studio. Huge hangar – oo those stretch limousine things they made last week are here. Silly buggers. Had a good wander round, took one or two photos of the set. It’s cold – not unexpected, but it’s seeping up into my boots from the concrete floor over the hours. I guess we arrived in there at about 7.45. Naturally we’re asked to take coats off as they don’t look great on camera. Neither will I, I’m having a bad hair week. There’s a fair amount of setting up going on, health and safety announcements. No loo in here. I must have gone about 5 times in the mobile loos before, after the marathon bladderfilled experience at the Friday Night Project.

As most of you know by now, this was Top Gear of the Pops. Enough to make you 0_0 on its own. But as we know that Jeremy, Richard and James will BE in a band with Justin singing, it was quite intriguing to say the least. Filming starts, with presenters wandering in. We’re over by the band stage. I’ve come all this way to see Jus, and I’m gonna be at the front, although naturally this is purely for journalistic reasons. Can still hear what’s going on over there, where the presenting bit is going on. People being moved by the floor manager all the way through, machinery being moved about. Rooney the warm up man. I have a few walks round the place to stretch. Standing about a lot gives me backache these days, you know. Lethal Bizzle are on first with their new single, of which I understood not a word. Personally, I find rap/hiphop etc impenetrable. They’re well received, though. McFly are there! (there’s another tiny stage in the far corner) and are given a challenge. Write a new song without the words ‘love’, ‘baby’ or ‘heart’ but WITH ‘sofa’ ‘Hyundai’ and ‘administration’, to be performed at the end of the show. Interesting.. Mr Hammond looked remarkably fit and well, all three on good form, the usual cockups abound and lots of applause being rerecorded. I’m not going through all of the programme, you’ll have to watch. There is a general music history lesson, and a chart rundown, though. Scuse me if I’ve lost track of the EXACT order of things but you get the idea.

Travis appear onstage with their new single, a pleasant sound.. three times they do that, with rugby banter flowing. Apparently there was some game that Scotland lost. They played to a backing track with live singing. Supergrass were pretty good, played completely live and had ADE EDMONDSON playing guitar. A god amongst comedians. Unannounced. Doing very silly rock god impressions and playing that axe like Comic Relief depended on it. Still, not bad, if a bit of a feedback freak aagahhh. This was run through twice, an untainted version, and one where TG intervened. Dry ice, enough to suffocate everyone on stage, billowing out of twin exhausts behind Mr Goffey’s drums. A HUGE wind machine blowing the living daylights out of the band. And.. doves and pigeons. James was in charge of releasing them in an overblown rock gesture. Not while the wind machine was going, I might add. They didn’t want to play, though. Fluttered and landed about 5 feet from the unfortunate James, flew off over the crowd into haircuts, and crawled under the barrier at my feet. I picked it up and looked after it until the end of the song, poor thing, it didn’t need big people stamping on it. Even the chicken placed very carefully on stage refused to play. I don’t know what will get cut out of that..

McFly managed to perform their cracking new tune with great aplomb, getting all the words into a rocking little tune. Not bad work, lads!

Finally finally the stage is set up for the big event. A massive set of drums, Jeremy won’t know what to do with all of those! Three backing singers, two keyboards, guitarist.. Jeremy banters with all and sundry. He’s had seven lessons, and predicts a disaster. This is the first time they’ve played together, after a quick rehearsal yesterday. James’ music degree is cruelly brought up, but the poor boy reminds him that this is a far cry from the Bach he plays at home. Richard looks like he can handle a bass, but also looks terrified, as well he might! Justin is introduced at last and appears in black shirt, dusty lilac trousers and leopardskin boots. Never one to dress down if there’s no need! We’re getting Billy Ocean’s ‘Red Light’ thanks to Clarkson. Those backing singers are REALLY good, and indeed carry the whole thing right through. Justin has idiot boards with the lyrics.. they do get a long way through on the first take. Justin gets himself warmed up. Second take – Jeremy somehow loses a drumstick, claiming that his hands banged together. His drumming is awful, I’m reliably informed, but he does know he’s speeding up and slowing down, and threatens to do it on purpose. Richard has SOME idea of what he’s doing! He said last time he played a bass he broke it on someone – I’m sure that’s what he said! Jus stops two takes, doesn’t seem comfy, plainly confused cos he’s singing but it’s not matching the music – is it his fault? Ah. There’s a line of lyrics missing. ‘I’m a professional! I sing what I’m told to!’ The guy looking after the idiot boards is immediately banished to Gardeners’ World. The vocals/music match a lot better after that! Justin relaxes into his singing take by take, adding flashes of falsetto and vocal flourishes. Knickers appear on stage and are festooned round Richard – they are returned to the audience for the next take, to be thrown again. It was difficult to hear Justin at first, but that mike was quiet for Supergrass, I thought It’s a triumphant finish when they run it all the way through for the last time, I suspect partly in relief!

Yeah, it was a shambles, that last song, but it could have been so much worse! It was recognisable, they had professional help, and we were willing them on, greatly entertained. All that could be asked for. Top Gear will have another series, which is just as well, as the three lads need to stick to the day jobs.. Kudos for doing it though.

Now for the Justin bit. He looked healthy and smiley. As gorgeous as ever, no trace of any kind of arrogance, of which he’s often been accused. No scene stealing (although he can do that without doing very much, tbh). Doing his job quietly with no fuss, standing in the crowd and talking to people. I overheard several people behind me saying he’d spoken to them. To see him back on stage and to hear him singing again was just sublime.I was proud. I don’t know how he felt. Am I right in thinking that it’s the first time on stage since last summer? A few qualms would have been perfectly natural, and the contrast between this and a TD gig could not have been greater. I find that the more time passes, the more time I have for the man I’ve been following for so long. I think he’s more of a man than he was, my friends.

He’s a very busy man just at the moment. Good luck for Saturday, Justin, and Happy Birthday.

Lyrics follow! Plus photos. We weren’t allowed to take many, and the one of Jus didn’t come out somehow! WAAAAAHHH!!!!

Red light spells danger
Can’t hold out much longer
‘Cos red light means warning
Can’t hold out I’m burning

You took my heart and turned me on
And now the danger sign is on

Never thought the day would come
When I would feel alone without you
An’ now I’m like a child again
Calling out his mama’s name
You got me on a ball and chain
Doin’ things that I don’t wanta.

I can’t stop running to you
Feel love coming through you
Girl with you beside me
Hold on, heaven guide me.

Red light spells danger
Can’t hold out much longer
‘Cos red light means warning
Can’t hold out I’m burning.

Red light spells danger
Can’t hold out much longer
‘Cos red light means warning
Can’t hold out I’m burning

I had my funk
I played around
Without a love to tie me down

I always used to kiss and run
I never wanted love to catch me.
I thought I had a heart of stone
But now I’m in the danger zone

I can feel the heat is on
Soon the flames are gonna catch me.

I can’t stop running to you
Feel love coming through you
Girl with you beside me
Hold on, heaven guide me.

Red light spells danger
Can’t hold out much longer
‘Cos red light means warning
Can’t hold out I’m burning

Red light spells danger
Can’t hold out much longer
‘Cos red light means warning
Can’t hold out . . .