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STONE FOUNDATION ALBUM LAUNCH

7/8/2015

Stone Foundation are clearly old enough to know better - but here they are, four blokes well past the first flush of youth, giving it their all for the sake of making their own sweet, soul music.

Normally there are eight of them, but tonight's show at The Brewdog in Birmingham is performed by a slimmed down version of the band, hammering through a few of their latest numbers before the crowd settles back to hear new album "A Life Unlimited" over the P.A.

As singer-guitarist Neil Jones gives it the full-on, neck bulging emote during "Pushing Your Love", the thought strikes you that these guys could easily earn a comfortable crust knocking out Motown covers for the wedding circuit - or maybe they could hustle a living as a Blues Brothers tribute act.

But that just wouldn't be good enough. Though clearly enamoured of the classic sounds of black America - not to mention a plentiful dash of Van Morrison and Dexy's - Stone Foundation are all about taking inspiration from the music they love, not merely copying it.

It's an approach which has won the backing of Northern Soul legend Nolan Porter - now a regular collaborator - and, on their latest release, Graham Parker - one of Britain's greatest white "black" voices.

Like so many thoroughly worthwhile bands, they suffer from the chronic lack of airplay on UK radio for musicians who aren't backed by oodles of record company payola and/or don't look like they would adorn your daughter's bedroom wall.

Yet they already have a following in Japan and must surely be close to something like a breakthrough here. You have to believe that songwriting and musicianship of this quality can't be ignored.

They're touring with the full complement in the autumn and should not be missed.

"A Life Unlimited Is Out Now".

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ENGLAND TAKE 2-1 ASHES LEAD

2/8/2015

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There's no pretence at art about the thumbnails below - they're just fan photos taken from the Priory Stand at Edgbaston on Friday afternoon.

Still, they capture a wonderful moment in English cricket - the seconds after Alastair Cook's side clinched an eight wicket win over the Aussies to take a 2-1 lead in the Ashes.

The only time I ever bunked off school was to see an England v Australia Test - even as a youngster I realised that the chance to see Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson in their prime was worth a detention.

For years the Aussies had it over us, until the unforgettable series of 2005, when England claimed the urn for the first time in 18 years.

Back then, the Edgbaston test was a crucial turning point, with England winning by just two runs, and and after a caning at Lords, the Birmingham stadium could once again prove to be a turning point.

With Warwickshire's homegrown star Ian Bell unbeaten at the crease in the second innings (rescuing his Test career as well as his team) alongside Joe Root - who thumped the winning four - it was a good day all round for the home fans, marred only by the knowledge that top bowler Jimmy Anderson will miss the next match with a side strain.

The visitors, though, are no pushovers. A Test which threatened to be over within two days, ultimately stretched into two full sessions on Day 3.

Although the result was never in doubt after Australia were bowled out for 136 in the first innings, obstinate batting down the order by Peter Nevill and Mitchell Starc ensured that England had to wait for victory.

There are undoubtedly more tough challenges ahead.

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THE NEW NEW STREET

25/7/2015

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Birmingham's "new" New Street station is vital to the renaissance of a city widely perceived as lagging behind Manchester in pursuit of regional pre-eminence.

It's coming in at a cost of £600million - part-funded by the national and local government, with developers Mace stumping up the rest.

A flagship John Lewis store will be the retail anchor of the Grand Central shopping mall that will occupy the upper floor, giving Brum a shopping "offer" unrivalled outside of London - the massive Bullring development is only over the road from the station's new main entrance and the upmarket Mailbox a short walk away will shortly boast a revamped Harvey Nicks.

It remains to be seen whether this is a sensible trade-off for failing to deal with the chronic track congestion at New Street, which continue to blight national and local rail links.

In the meantime, as these pictures show, work is continuing apace ahead of the opening in September.

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MORE THAN A CLUB - BUT FOR HOW MUCH LONGER?

8/12/2014

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It is a joke, right? Tomorrow we'll wake up to find that it was all just a publicity stunt - won't we?

I'm talking, of course, about the decision by Barcelona Football Club to allow their historic scarlet and blue shirt to be tarnished with hoops, rather than vertical stripes.

Sportswear manufacturer Nike is apparently concerned that churning out yet another version of the traditional top with just a minor tweak here or there won't be a merch magnet - so they want a mould-breaking design to entice the punters.

It's caused a huge kerfuffle in Spain, with one survey showing that 78% oppose the move - which would break more than 115 years of history. And for what? A few thousand more on Barca's bottom line? But at what cost to their reputation and brand.

Now I can already hear the non-football fans wondering what all the fuss is about. It's only a piece of cloth right? Barcelona will still have 11 quality players representing them on the field and if you don't like the clobber they're wearing, well you don't have to buy it.

And normally you'd have a point. The difference here is that Barca's shirt has come to symbolise a collective history that has meaning way beyond the confines of the Camp Nou.

Their official slogan "mes que un club" - or "more than a club" - wasn't dreamt up in some pompous adman's imagination. It's a reflection of the bitter struggle faced by the Catalan people to affirm their identity during the years of repression following the Spanish Civil War.

As the club's own website explains General Franco banned both the Catalan spelling of the club's name and, yes, the four Catalan stripes on the Barca crest. And those stripes, reflected in the design of the shirt, were vertical.

Despite Franco's two-footed tackle, football stadia became the one place where overt displays of Catalan identity were tolerated - and so grew the idea of political resistance through football. This explains why even now, almost four decades after Franco's death, games between Barcelona and the General's favourites Real Madrid remain so highly charged.

There aren't many clubs in world football who can truly claim to be "more than a club" - in that they embody values or ideals that go beyond traditional sportsmanship and fair play. Being a winner a la Manchester United or Real Madrid might win you a global fanbase, but the support these clubs attracts is based on the (thoroughly human) desire to bask in the reflected glory of a successful team - not on any greater notion or ideal.

In the UK, Celtic and Rangers are perhaps the only examples of clubs who stand for an idea beyond their immediate local identity - for better of worse, both are "more than a club." So too are Germany's St Pauli - who've become a magnet for left-wingers on the terraces, standing for anti-racism and the idea of community. Continued struggles on the pitch do nothing to dent their appeal.

There are other examples - Real Sociedad, for example, traditionally performed the same role for the Basque community as Barca did for the Catalans.

Of course, when it comes to building up your international profile, it doesn't harm to have a few great players in the ranks - and from Cruyff to Messi, from Laudrup to Iniesta, Camp Nou has long played host to some of the world's finest talents.

But it's not that which makes it "more than a club". As a trip to their fantastic museum (pictures below) reminds you, the sense of what Barcelona is - it's heart and soul - is derived from many years of bitter struggle.

And that shirt - those stripes - are central to its identity.

Barca are more than a club - but for how much longer?

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POSTCARDS: #1 LUDLOW, SHROPSHIRE

4/12/2014

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Popped into Ludlow today for work. Never been before. My bad. What a gorgeous town.

Renowned as a foodie centre, the closest I've ever been was to a gastro pub in the nearby village of Brimsdown. As well as the posh nosh, Ludlow also has a castle - date unknown, but probably founded in the 11th century to keep those pesky Welsh at bay. There's a church, too, with amazing stained glass windows and a tower you can climb up, as well as plenty of Tudor timber, and some gorgeous Georgian houses.

There are pubs inviting you down narrow medieval alleyways - and just in case you're thinking it's all too twee for words, there's a Costa Coffee, a Boots and a Spar; not to mention a fair few charity shops hinting at the underlying poverty that stalks many rural areas.

Probably hell to live in as a teenager. Looks like a great place to visit as a grown-up. I'll be back.

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REVIEW: THE IMITATION GAME

1/12/2014

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Let's face it - once casting director Nina Gold had done her work, this biopic of World War Two code-breaker Alan Turing was already halfway there. What with a stellar cast from the British rep - Benedict Cumberbatch, Keira Knightly, Charles Dance and Mark Strong - you could hardly go wrong.

So does director Morten (Headhunters) Tyldum drop the ball as he approaches the try line? Does he miss an open goal from two yards out? Not a bit of it. This is an absorbing and moving film, even for those of us already who know the basic story from Hugh Whitemore's hit play Breaking The Code.

Turing, in case aren't aware, was the geek who invented the computer in the course of trying to decrypt the Nazi's military communication code during World War Two. His work at the secret Bletchley Park intelligence centre is reckoned to have brought the conflict to an end two years early, and as a result saved million of lives.

Heroes didn't often look and act like this though. Cumberbatch, though attractive, is no matinee idol, and his odd, twitchy appearance underlines the fact that Turing was always an outsider - painfully aloof from his fellow human beings, partly on account of his freakish Maths skills, partly because he couldn't read the unspoken signals through which we all (or at least most of us) communicate. Today, he'd probably have been defined as autistic - then, he was just seen as odd; a cold fish.

Turing's lonerish tendencies were exacerbated by the fact that - in the idiom of the day - he was a "poofter". Homosexuality was illegal and thus a weak point that others could - and did - exploit.

While clearly sympathetic, Tyldum never shies away from the fact that his main man frequently came across as a heartless, arrogant bastard with a remarkable talent for pissing off his comrades. Yet, he also provides a welcome escape route for Joan (Knightly, superb) another maths genius who faces suburban strangulation at the hands of her parents until Turing comes along as an unlikely saviour.

Graham Moore's screenplay - based on Alan Hodges biography rather than Whitemore's drama - throws us a few juicy titbits too, including an intriguing Soviet spy sub-plot, with Mark Strong especially impressive as a conniving MI6 officer.

In truth there's rarely a dud note here. Turing, disgraced in his lifetime, is now restored to his rightful heroic status - and his full, flawed humanity.

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DO THEY KNOW ...IT'S ONLY A CHARITY SINGLE?

24/11/2014

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Jeez Louise. First it was Adele, now it's Lily Allen. Who'll be next to climb aboard the “we refused to sing on Band Aid 30” bandwagon I wonder?

Not that it's harmed the charity record's sales. It's stormed to Number One in its first week of release, clocking up 312,000 units. Actually, make that 312,001 – I've just downloaded it myself.

Is it a great record? No. Should there be more artists of African heritage on the release? Possibly. Should the lyrics be rewritten? Almost certainly.

And of course, as Bryony Gordon perceptively observed, the rich and famous who are featured on “Do They Know It's Christmas” only gave their time; the rest of us are expected to donate our money.

So why have I spent 99p buying the darned thing. One simple reason. I want to help the cause of fighting ebola in West Africa. You know, that grim and ghastly disease that has already cost more than 5,000 lives in Guinea, Liberia, Sierra Leone and five other countries. I don't expect any applause for giving to charity – but it seems bizarre to think that I might be sneered at for doing so.

Of course I could have just donated direct to one of the charities, and cut out the middle man.

But this way, as well as making a financial contribution, my kids get the pleasure of listening to a song they enjoy, and as a family we can have a discussion about the issues underlying the record's release.

Maybe there are better ways to support a continent in crisis. Perhaps it is all a bit patronising. Few things in life are perfect. But as the nitpicking continues, I'm reminded of an old saying: “Don't let the best be the enemy of the good.”

At least Band Aid 30 offers all of us the chance to have a positive influence on a situation which would otherwise leave us helplessly shrugging our shoulders. It's giving with a feelgood factor.

You might disagree of course. And let me the first to say that if you've got a better idea than sweary St Bob's money making singalong, don't waste any more time reading this rubbish.

Go out there and make it happen. But until you do, please don't diss those of us – celebrity popstar and member of the general public alike – who are just trying to do our bit.

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SPY KIDS

22/11/2014

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Should I spy on my kids? Not in the sense of snooping on their conversations you understand, or following them around - but when they're on the internet.

To those of us raised on George Orwell's classic 1984, the reflex might be a loud and immediate “No”.

Isn't that what Big Brother did to Orwell's anti hero Winston Smith, keeping tabs on his most intimate moments, prying into what should have been his private life?

Here's why this has become such an acute dilemma for me. My 10-year old daughter wants a new tablet for Christmas, and there's also something that she doesn't want - a “stalker” app (as she describes it) that would allow her Mom and me to track her online movements.

When she had her first computer last year, part of the deal was that it would come equipped with software allowing us – as concerned parents – to monitor her emails, apps and youtube viewing.

Now she's rebelling – and I'm truly in a quandry.

I certainly can't use my own childhood as a reference point. If I'd asked my parents for a machine that allowed me to talk to people on the other side of the world for free, send letters that arrived within seconds, and which contained more information than all the books in local library, they'd have had me sectioned.

Or at least banned me from watching Tomorrow's World before bedtime.

Spying on the kids in those days meant having a network of nosy neighbours who'd spot you on the way home from school, having a crafty fag upstairs on the bus.

I'm not nostalgic for that era. It wasn't better than now, just different. And infinitely less complicated.

These days kids grow up in surveillance society - there's CCTV on our high streets, cameras in sports stadia and any place of entertainment. Yet we still tell ourselves that there are some things which are beyond the reach of prying eyes, that there IS such a thing as privacy. Isn't that why so many people regard Edward Snowden as a hero?

What I'd like to do is allow my kids to use the web to its fullest potential. That means having the chance to play games with people they've never met, or posting pictures to their mates. Simple stuff that we now all take for granted.

But even if they can be trusted, who else is out there trying to take advantage of their innocence.

If hackers can get hold of hundreds of celebrities' private photos, who's to say they won't also be posting snaps of my daughter and her mates on some dodgy message board?

And is that person she's talking to on Minecraft really another 10-year old girl? Or some pervy middle aged bloke getting his weird kicks?

As parents we don't want to be Big Brother – or Big Mamma or Big Dadda come to that – we just want to make sure our kids aren't getting tangled in the Web.

Does it make a difference if our motive isn't to control, but protect? Or does it ultimately all amount to he same thing?

And if we don't allow kids to make their own mistakes, how will they ever learn how to behave responsibly on their own?

Questions, questions. Oh Mr Orwell, where are you when I need you?

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MOVIE ROUND-UP: THE DROP, NATIVITY 3, ALEXANDER AND...

20/11/2014

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If you're into your gritty urban thrillers (and I am) The Drop is a must-see movie - and arguably one of the films of the years. Based around a shady Brooklyn bar, it unfolds at a deceptively leisurely pace, as deadpan bartender Bob (played by Brit Tom Hardy) moodily banters with his grouchy boss Marv (James Gandolfini in belting form in what proved to be his final role).

We're left in no doubt that something dodgy is going on here - but precisely what it is we can't tell. All we know is that Marv is a miserable old bastard, while soft-hearted Bob is the kind of guy who rescues a puppy from a rubbish bin outside the house where his eventual love-interest Nadia (Noomi Rapace) lives.

It's this act of kindness which leads the gentle barman into an unwanted conflict with Nadia's ex, a no-good drug addict called Eric Deeds (Mattias Schoenaerts) who is rumoured to have at least one local murder to his credit. Eric claims ownership of both the dog and the girl, and hangs around like a bad fart.

To add to their woes, Tom and Marv's bar is held up by gun-toting gangsters. We haven't seen the streets of New York looking this mean since the heyday of De Niro, Keitel and Pacino.

Laced with a healthy dose of Catholic guilt - Scorsese would be proud - this is a layered and absorbing movie, smartly written and directed by Dennis Lehane, whose stories have previously inspired modern classics such as Shutter Island and Gone, Baby, Gone.

As a director he suffuses the screen with moody greys and dark orange, especially as the film weaves towards its inevitably bloody climax.

Not a movie to be watched if you're feeling knackered after a long day at work, it demands concentration - but it repays your attention with a stunning final Act.

Ironically it has rather more kick than Nativity 3: Dude Where's My Donkey - the latest instalment of what is fast becoming a seasonal franchise for Debbie Isitt. If you saw Catherine Tate squirming as she tried to sell it on Graham Norton recently, you'll have a good idea of just how bad it might be - although nothing can quite prepare you for this hour and half of shockingly unfunny cinema. It's a waste of talent masquerading as entertainment.

The first Natvity outing had a certain charm; Nativity 2 was just about OK. This is dreadful - more dud than Dude.

It tells the story of a bunch of Coventry schoolkids desperate to get New York so that their teacher Mr Shepherd (Martin Clunes, what were you thinking of?) can marry his fiancee. Clunes bumps his head and loses his memory - which is where the one constant in the series, Marc Wooton's dim witted classroom assistant Mr Poppy comes in, by trying to help the school win a flash dancing competition. The prize - yep, you've guessed it - is a trip to Big Apple.

Dude, where's your donkey? At this rate, heading for the knacker's yard.

If you're looking for a proper, warm-hearted pre-Xmas movie to enjoy with the kids, Alexander And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day is a far better bet. Ed Oxenbould plays the eponymous hero, who wishes a miserable day upon his over-achieving family, and then lives to regret it.

Thoughtful, with a few belly laughs thrown in, this is a rarity - a domestic drama that all the family can appreciate and enjoy.

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LIVE: PETE WILLIAMS (Halesowen Cycling Club) 14/11/14

20/11/2014

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It's becoming all the rage - blokes of 50-something who've spent years in the shadows of more illustrious musical partners finally deciding the time has come to up step and take centre stage.

There's the eternal sidekick Johnny Marr, of course, finally showing what he can do as the main man with a couple of beezer albums, and certainly besting Morrissey on current form.

And now, Pete Williams, the time-served apprentice of Dexy's Midnight Runners threatening to eclipse the sorcerer Kevin Rowland, with whom he shared the band's triumphant comeback.

Williams' 2012 solo album See was a mini classic, but now comes the acid test with his follow up - due in March next year - Roughnecks and Roustabouts.

Early versions sent to fans who've paid upfront via Pledge Music suggest a more thoughtful, introspective release than his debut - one which might take a couple of listens at least to win its place in your heart. But live, in front of a "home" audience of friends, family and confirmed fans at a Black Country social club, there's a reassuringly instant connection, as Pete alternates between old favourites and fresh discoveries.

Among the newbies, Let Me Like You stands out for it's tender love-not-love scenario, while the title track of the forthcoming release is a typically passionate outpouring, detailing the singer's relationship with booze.

This is what we used to call pop music. Intelligent lyrics, full-on delivery, sharp playing, notably from Richard Hawley's guitarist Shez Sheridan.

Like Hawley, Williams deals with romantic disappointment and the scuffed edges of life. First Real Job, Trust Me and Suddenly Shattered are testament to a journey that has seen it's fair share - and possibly unfair share - of turmoil. But there's a widescreen optimism about his writing too - summed up by the anthemic Nothing's Gonna Stand In Our Way.

Chuck in a winning theatricality and some jokey onstage banter and you have a performer ready to take on far bigger stages than this.

It's been a long while coming, but you sense that Pete Williams' time is here at last - and finally, on nobody's terms but his own.