Garbage & Marissa Paternoster-Because The Night.

24 03 2013

 

Yes I dislike covers, but only when they are done in a mundane fashion. If you’re going to take someone elses work, then please do something to change it slightly. Add something to it. I don’t know what, but blow people’s minds. You have the power to do so, so you should.

So, with my dislike for covers those that are familiar with the best day of the year, RECORD STORE DAY will be aware of some of the releases that are coming out. I’ve got my eyes (and hopefully hands) on The Horrors/Toys split release. Looks good. However, there’s one in particular that got my attention more than others.

Patti Smith is my ultimate idol, closely followed by Shirley Manson. Basically, I have a thing for women who aren’t afraid to speak up and use their voices for the greater good. Oh, and they also make insanely beautiful music. No days have gone by where I haven’t listened to Garbage or Patti Smith. I just have to. That’s all there is to it.

Most are familiar with Patti’s cover of Bruce Springsteen’s Because The Night. Probably the best love song of all time? Oh go on then. Some have covered it and butchered it. There was a truly awful dance version of it some time ago. I wanted to do a Van Gogh; it was that bad. Then you have some who cover it and bring back the beauty and purity in it. They nail it. They bring it back to perfection.

Record Store Day sees the release of Garbage and Marissa Paternoster’s (Screaming Females. Listen to them. They are a brilliant rock band) cover of Because The Night. The live clips I have seen are out of this world. But my favourite has to be from Garbage’s show in New York at Terminal 5 from this Friday just gone.

Marissa is THE best guitarist around right now. No doubt about it. She has such a distinctive voice that goes so well with Shirley’s. You can see why both bands have come together to do this release. They just work so well together. One can only hope they do more.

When your hero covers a song by one of your heroes and makes it just as beautiful, it makes you proud. Makes you proud to not just a music lover, but proud to love both bands. Everything about their cover is all kinds of wonderful. The way Shirl and Marissa look at each whilst singing this is gorgeous. You can see how Shirl has taken Marissa under her wig, and in time will probably be just as empowering as her. She’s probably already there to be honest.

Anyway, go to your local record store on Record Store Day (20th April) and buy this. Buy some others too. Support your local record store, always.

 





“What a mess a little time makes to us when time and place collide.”

21 02 2013

Five years ago today I was sat in a room at University in an Online Journalism class. This module basically was for us all to start our own blog. What we did with it after the module ended was our own business I guess. I carried on. I carried on because I found a platform where I could express my love for music in a way I’d never done before. It wasn’t just music, it was life events and situations that also tie in with music. Which made me realise that music is my life, it truly truly is. Everyone has a passion in life, it’s obviously what mine is.

Over the past five years of running this blog I have been fortunate enough to befriend bands (Royal Chant, I’m looking at you..lovingly of course) and I’ve discovered new bands that have just blown my mind. I’ve interviewed bands/singers that have inspired me in many ways (meeting Warpaint was beyond words) and I also made my role model, Shirley Manson cry with a piece I wrote about how important Garbage’s record Bleed Like Me is to me.  Being thanked by Crocodiles for something I wrote about them meant more to me than I ever thought it would. I’ve never been paid to write anything, and as clichéd as it sounds- no amount of money can put a price on any of that, and also how much I love writing about music.

I’m still convinced that the only person who reads this is my mum. I’ll never get why anyone would go out of their way to read one of my rants, but when I get an email or whatever from someone on the other side of the world telling me they connected with something I’ve written; it justifies why I write. I do it for me, but I also do it in the hopes someone who loves music as much as I do doesn’t feel so alone and strange with their love for it.

Take comfort where you can.





“Forgive them, even if they are not sorry.”

1 02 2013

Yesterday I saw something that made me yet again realise that strangers are sometimes a lot more friendlier and much more kind than those we know. Sometimes we find it easier to tell someone we do not know that they aren’t alone or are more inclined to make them feel less alone compared to someone we know, or are close to. I’ve tried to work this out, and I have no answer. I have no answer to anything, just my own views. Which may or may not be right; but it should NEVER be about being right because when that becomes the only thing in life that you strive for, or that gives you satisfaction then maybe you need to reevaluate your way of living. Hard to say you’re living if you do that, you’re just existing. It’s a chore, not a pleasure.

This act of kindness I witnessed was something that I wish I took a photo of. It was a beautiful thing to see, mainly because it showed that strangers have a bigger heart than those we know at times. I was walking into Tesco (other supermarkets available, so please use them..got for Sainsburys, that’s a good one. Orange plastic bags and a good vegetarian section.) Outside the shop were two homeless men. I immediately wanted to buy them something to eat and drink. I always give money or food to the homeless. You just have to, you cannot ignore them. You should always help in any way you can. Last year at Pride (London..outside the same Tesco) it was late in the evening, so I went in and bought something to eat. It was the only vegetarian thing they had. Some excuse for pasta, no idea. I was looking around and I saw this man in the doorway, it was raining too. I left my friends for a few seconds and walked up to him and gave him the food I bought. I didn’t touch what I ate, I just gave him it. He tried to refuse, but I told him he had to take it because it was raining. I saw many people ignore him and I wanted him to know that someone was thinking of him. I think of this a lot, mainly because I hope he’s okay and safe.

The two men I saw yesterday were sat outside, and as I got nearer I saw they were both huddled under a leopard print blanket someone must have given them and they were also sharing a pizza that someone had bought for them. Strangers can offer more than we know. We are always told “don’t speak to strangers.” But why? Sometimes those that are the closest to us are the ones that do the most damage, and those who know nothing about us are the ones that can sometimes give us what we need; kindness and hope. I can contradict myself here with two things. I once helped someone who was (and still is) my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were 4 and have fallen out once. Anyway, I was at someone’s house and she was a horrible creature. She bullied everyone, and eventually picked on me because she was a fool. Anyway, she lived right near my best friend and she was being beyond horrible to her. She was riding round on her bike, and I had enough of her being horrible to my friend so (she was wearing a helmet and landed on a lot of grass) I pushed her off her bike when she came back around. My best friend and I ran to her house. I hid, and she told her mum what I did. She was fine with it and we ate pizza. I stuck up for my best friend because that’s what you do. Once, a stranger punched me in the face and nearly ripped my nose ring out. So I guess there are always exceptions. I didn’t retaliate. My hitting someone in a fight would be a comedy moment. I’d lose my balance and just punch myself in the face.

People always say, when you tell them what’s wrong, that someone else always has it worse. I think that does more harm than good. It just makes the person who feels bad, feel more shit than they already do. We need to be more compassionate and less judgemental. Not every homeless person is a junkie. Not every junkie is a bad person. Bad people are everywhere, as are good. It’s just we are exposed to negativity because sad-cases thrive off it. It’s a terrible way to be. Maybe I need to stop seeing the good in everyone, but we all deserve a chance. That’s basically what the point of this is, maybe you took something else from it. I have no idea. Just next time you see someone sleeping rough on the street, it wouldn’t hurt you to buy them a drink or give them some change. The kindness in strangers is needed; kindness in general is. If it was you, you’d want someone to help you in some way right?





“Like no other you can’t be replaced.” A Thank You Note, Of Sorts.

31 12 2012

With this being my 1000 post, I thought I should try write something of worth. Whether or not it is, well that’s a different subject entirely. It may make sense, it may just wind up being another nonsensical rant, which is usually is. I don’t need telling, I already know. As the end of 2012 approaches (or it may already have depending on your location) you see a lot of people taking to social networking sites declaring how the next year will be THEIR year or they are going to change. It irks me because, you can make whatever change you wish at any point. You announce these things but by the second week of January you hate yourself more than you ever did. Make life easier on yourself, and just carry on as normal. I say this, but I make life hard work for myself at times. It’s a fault, one of many.

I don’t like discussing my weight/how chubby I am because I’m not exactly a fan of myself. I could have easily been like most and said START OF THE YEAR I AM GETTING FIT. Over the past year and a half, I have been working on losing weight. It’s not easy. Fortunately, I really do enjoy going to the gym for a few hours and listening to music. I’d take a book with me but whilst on the treadmill I do look like a panic-stricken bear. When I go there, it doesn’t just get rid of my horrendous fat, but it clears the mind. I currently work at HMV, but it’s only a Christmas job. I love it. I bloody love it. For every grumpy customer, there is one that just makes your day. I’ve held up queues talking to people about bands, I’ve been hugged by customers because I helped them, I’ve had people sing to me then ask “do you have that one?” and the old favourite, “Excuse me..do you work here?” It is a brilliant job and those I’ve worked with are equally as brilliant. It was my third year there, and I think this year was my favourite. It just gives you a sense of pride and self-worth knowing you’ve helped someone. I must add, it is usually the older generation (60+) that are much kinder. Kids today are just rude really. Or maybe it’s the kids over here. I have no idea. Put down your iPads kids, and go take a walk. Use your mind. Come 5th January and I’ll be out of work, and on the Monday I’ll be taking that awful trip to the job centre to sign on. If you’ve never had your soul crushed and your dreams shat on; I suggest you go on the dole. If you want to be treated like dirt and have a wealth of self-hate upon you; go on the dole. My degree is useless, but I have no means of going back to uni. Of course in an ideal world I would have my own record shop, with a healthy selection of books. Later on I’d have my own publishing company. And finally, I’d be able to get a dog. These are hopes and dreams that maybe I’ll one day achieve.

We treat this time of year as a time of reflection. I don’t like thinking about the past, because it can sometimes make you debate what you want your future and present to be. Although, we cannot control the future. I firmly believe if something is going to happen, it will happen. I can relate this to the one I love. Many years ago, maybe something should have happened. Go forward five years and seeing her whilst in London during Pride (oh I know, but this one was alright so…) this year was truly the best thing to have happened. Part of my brain thought, “This could happen..somehow.” Every day since we have been talking, and FINALLY after waiting 5 years, this beautiful and perfect being is my girlfriend. I’m not a happy person naturally, but who is. But I finally know what sincere happiness and what true love is, thanks to her. It was always going to be her- and now it finally is. I’m working on trying to make her buy me a dog. Baby steps, I know. I know. It’s just lovely to be with someone who is full of love and kindness, and wants to change no part of me. Also means I get to spend more time in London too.

This year I have learnt that patience prevails. If you wait, it will happen. With reference to above, I can also link this in to music. Since 2009, I have been a huge fan of Crocodiles. They dragged me through a break-up, showed me a different (and better) world with their music and their lyrics claimed a part of my heart that needed claiming. I missed out on several tours, cue heartbreak and loathing wherever I was living at the time. 4th September they did a free gig at Rough Trade. Oh fate, how I love thee. I was already in London. I think I was staying for a week. I walked past Brandon and Charlie just outside Rough Trade. My stomach flipped. If I was 14 and mental, I may have chased them. Instead, I am a 26-year-old who gets tongue-tied most of the time. Their free gig at Rough Trade was a special moment for me. I paid no attention to anyone in the crowd. I don’t even think 100 hundred people were there. I sang to every song, I swayed and shut my eyes. I opened them, in awe and in shock of being right in front of the band that did more for me than they will ever know. Sadly, I was too much of a wuss to go up to them at the end and talk to them. Next time, I will. I vow to talk to them. About something, or nothing in particular.

My favourite music moment of this year has to be Dee Dee from Dum Dum Girls covering Just Like Honey by The Jesus And Mary Chain, just for me. Just for me. A nobody from nowhere. It started as a sweeping statement from myself on Twitter one evening. I was listening to Psychocandy, and just wrote on Twitter something like “Imagine if Dum Dum Girls covered Just Like Honey.” The next day I woke to a reply from Dee Dee telling me to email her. So I did. She replied telling me she would try to do a cover for me. A few months later, she emailed me the cover and wrote “For your ears only xx.” I do not think anyone in this world can understand what this meant to me, and still does. And yes, I did cry. I’ve been a fan for many years of Dum Dum Girls, and for this to happen just blew my mind. If I see them when they come to the UK, I just need to thank Dee Dee face to face for it. That’s all I can do. Their music has made certain events less shite, you know how it is. Coming Down is my go-to song. Rest Of Our Lives describes my love for the one I love. Season In Hell gives me hope and Catholicked brings me back to life.

This has gone on long. I think I’ve said too much, but I have more to say.

I’ve been freelancing for close to 7 years now, and I started this blog in 2008 as part of an Online Journalism module whilst at Uni. I think I was the only one in that class to keep up their blog. There have been times where I thought there was no point in writing. No point at all. There have been times where if, Writer’s Block was a person I would gladly thump it in the gut. But then I hear a song or find a new band, and my love is restarted and I cannot imagine me not writing. I just HAVE to do it. It keeps me going. I have never been paid to write. Never. No one has offered to do so. I’m not about money. I own nothing of worth. Material things mean nothing to me. My Docs have holes in them and I rip jeans more often than I should. I look like a 70s reject. I look like the lovechild of Joey Ramone and Patti Smith; if they ever had a child. I have had more job rejections than I can count, and each one is a kick in the gut. But a motivation to try harder. Although, I don’t know if I can try harder than I do. I’d love to write a book, but god knows what it would be about. Obviously music. I’ve always wanted to follow a band around and write a book about it (Royal Chant I am looking at you, and Warpaint.) The film, Almost Famous is to blame for that goal.

This year (and last) I’ve had many kind words said to me from bands, PR companies and record labels with regard to what I have written about them and their work. You cannot put a price on that. Of course I believe still, that the only person who reads this is my mum but hey. If you’ve got this far, then I’ll buy you a cup of tea one day. I’m easy to find, but please don’t look as you will be disappointed. This part is a thank you to all the bands that have got in touch with me, all the PR companies and record labels. You’ve made writing even more enjoyable. There are stand-out bands and labels I’d mention, but that wouldn’t be fair. You are all brilliant, so thank you.

I will always ALWAYS welcome new music from any genre, so please get in touch (olivia_cellamare@hotmail.co.uk) I don’t care if no one bar your mum knows you exist or if you’ve supported some household name on a lengthy tour. Music is music. Send it.

Don’t forget who you are, and do not let anyone tell you that you cannot do something. Or that your goals are stupid ideas. Freedom comes from the heart, goes up into the mind then is unleashed. Don’t make a prisoner out of yourself. It’s all okay. It’s going to be alright.

Big love. xx





“A hostage to kindness and the wheels underneath her.”

20 11 2012

I was thinking about something earlier as I was leaving the house to go the gym. My days off are spent there in the hopes I can somehow change how I look and stop disliking myself as much as I do. Self-hate doesn’t leave you, does it? Or maybe it does. Maybe I am set to loath myself in my 20’s so I can learn to like myself from 30 onwards. I’ve got 4 years left of this, maybe I’ll go against this theory. Or maybe I’ll give in to it. It depends. I use my stubborn ways for the wrong thing. Always bad, never good.

So this thing about self-hate. I dislike it when people say things such as “I AM SO VILE. I AM SO FAT.” when they weigh next to nothing. The worst kind put this on certain websites. No one really cares about how much you hate yourself. You see, I dislike myself but I’m not going to announce it everywhere for attention. In a way, I’ve just “announced” it but no one I know or whatever reads this so it doesn’t matter. I’m not doing this for pity or for anyone to say “You’ve got a good face. You’re okay as you are.” I don’t want that. I don’t want any form of attention. Good or bad. If I get a hair cut, please don’t notice. Just don’t pick up on it. Go look at something else. Like a painting; that’s much more interesting.

I don’t dislike myself because I’m a miserable twat. I just do. There’s no explanation to it; but I constantly work on trying not to. I don’t dislike myself as much as I did when I was a teenager or going back a few years. You have to take baby steps with things like that. I don’t go to the gym because I want the body of a stick insect. Far from it. I have in my head, a goal. I’ve not told anyone nor will I ever. I know a person’s weight or appearance doesn’t define them, but we live in a judgemental world sadly. I get constantly told to stop wearing black all the time. Am I going to? Am I fuck. I’d go out in my superhero pjs if I could (one of the many brilliant presents my girlfriend got me for my birthday.) but they’re a bit long and I’d trip up.

I thought that, the older I get; the less dislike I’d have for myself. To an extent I’m right. I doubt myself a lot, especially with writing. I don’t do it because I want someone to say I’m any good. I do it because if I thought I was good, I’d stop. Self-doubt isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it is the one thing that can make you carry on. It lasts longer than hope. I’ve never been good at much, and I don’t mean it in a bad way. Some part of me just doesn’t settle. Or maybe doesn’t want to. The thought of being in one place for the rest of my life makes me feel sick. Maybe this is because I’ve never really felt at home anywhere. Maybe I should work on that, or maybe it’s okay to carry on drifting through. I’m alright with being unnoticed. I don’t think my purpose in life is to be noticed. Why would I want that.

I think a lot of people think they’re not good enough, but surely if you surround yourself with people who make you feel inadequate then you are hanging around the wrong kind of people? I could be wrong. I could be right.

You’ll make friends and enemies on the way. You’ll have good days, you’ll have bad days. You’ll like yourself, you’ll dislike yourself. But NEVER any account must you let someone make you feel shit about yourself, ever. You can do that all by yourself, but it’s easier to understand and control. You don’t always have to walk with your head held high, sometimes the cracks in the pavement are much more interesting than your surroundings. You don’t stop learning. Time is a drag, and it seems like it is never on our side. Someone will love you even if you cannot stand yourself. You may not be able to understand how or why; but they do. It is there. They are there.





“Lately, I’m not the only one. I say, never trust anyone.”

3 11 2012

I know age isn’t important. I know it’s not a big deal, but when your 26th birthday is creeping up on you; you cannot help but think “what the hell have I done with my life?!” I know this will pass soon, and on my actual birthday I probably won’t even pay any attention to how old I am. I don’t look my age at all. I look like I probably should be in school. Youthful skin. Maybe that’s my Italian genes coming through. Or maybe it’s because I nap a lot. I have no idea. The key is to moisturise. Always. In the morning and before you go to bed. Look after your skin, and you too can look as if you should pay child’s fare on the bus. Skin tips from a scruffy bint. Enjoy.

Last year when I turned 25 I think I had a brief moment of “oh fuck I’m nearly 30 what have I done with my life?!” And I think it is going to happen again. I don’t know why because no part of me does things in the hopes of getting approval of anyone. I don’t wish for that ever. If that was the case; I’d just be like everyone else. I don’t make an effort to not be like anyone else. This is how I turned out. Whether or not its a good thing, well that’s undecided. Maybe as I get older I may tolerate myself a bit more. Maybe I’ll stop being cruel towards myself. However, if I get in first; it won’t matter so much when someone else does. But there are things others say/ do that probably hurt a bit more than if I was to pick up on it about myself. But, it isn’t worth the time. Not much is. Time. Time. Time. Ages us all, aches us all. Us.

I maintain an element of silliness to make sure I don’t age too much mentally. If I see someone trip up in the street (providing they are not bleeding to death or a pensioner) I’ll probably find it funny. I think most are like that. When you take everything too seriously, it all loses meaning. And we’re all trying to find meaning. Maybe we’ll never know. Maybe we do know, but still want to keep looking. The answers can come from looking outside or from your own reflection. Just depends on how deep you want to get.

So, as I approach 26 I do wonder if I’ve done anything of worth. I just don’t know. I really don’t. My life pretty much revolves around music and I guess I hold interviewing Warpaint as the best thing I’ve ever done. I’ve met and spoken to some of my heroes; and they say you should never do that. But I know of many who have done so, and it being a pleasant experience. I fully endorse meeting those who have changed you and saved you. Sure it’s mainly to do with music for me, but there’s about 2 people who I class as friends that have also done this. So maybe interviewing Warpaint may only be the best thing I’ll ever do. I have no idea. Or maybe it was that time about a year ago when I showed Shirley Manson a piece I wrote about Bleed Like Me on her Facebook page, and she read it. Then told me it made her cry. How many people can say they’ve made their role model/idol cry? I’m still trying to work out if I’m proud of that or not. I’m not sure. I feel bad about it, but I’m glad she saw it.

This seems far too self-indulgent and no doubt I will dislike myself for writing this down. But it is better than a drunken outburst on a pavement with friends moaning about how I’ve done nothing with my life isn’t it. Some things you need to spare others from ever seeing.

It’s just an age. It means nothing. Those kinds of things do not define who we are. I’ve also finished watching all of The Wire again for the third time. Still kind of wish Jimmy McNulty was my best friend or something. And I’m going to always be pissed that they killed Bodie and Omar. That wasn’t right.

Anyway, have some songs; if you’ve got this far. Here’s to the bands/singers over the past (nearly) 26 years that have been my crutch and saviours.

 

 





“Into the night as the stars collide, across the borders that divide. Forests of stone standing petrified, to be by your side.”

29 10 2012

Sadness is something that creeps up on you when you least expect it. Much like love, happiness and rage. Much like any feeling I suppose. There is something about sadness that hits you harder than most and is much more difficult to shake. Some people wish to wrap themselves around it and become self-centered (I don’t get that) and some manage to just carry on as normal. There’s no right, there’s no wrong. But most will say you are wrong. I’ve not felt sad in a very very long time. But I saw something today that reinforced just how horrifically sensitive I am. And how much I dislike it. I’d say it is a negative trait, but I don’t have it in me to be tougher than I am. I’ve tried, and I’ve even tried being cruel. I can’t do it anymore. It just seems pointless.

So today whilst walking home from the gym I saw something on the pavement that made me feel so sad, and quite sick. The way I walk to and from town is basically a country road. There’s a farm on one side, and when you walk past it you get a delightful stench of SHIT. That sure wakes you up when you walk past it. Anyway, this isn’t about the animal shit I get to smell every morning on my way to and from the gym. It’s about what I saw. Anyone who knows me even a tiny bit knows I adore animals. I’m one of those annoying twerps who has conversations with dogs, cats and rabbits, and is convinced they understand. If you have a pet, I will try to steal it from you. If you have a dog, I’ll make it my best friend. If you have a cat, I’ll hold it up and sing Circle Of Life to it. If you have a rabbit, I’ll attempt to steal it. That’s just how I am. Anyway, this morning walking back I saw a dead rabbit on the pavement..right next to me. At first I thought it was asleep, but I realised quickly that the poor bugger was dead. Thing is, it looked at utter peace.

I honestly have no idea what my point is with this. I probably don’t have one. I guess I just believe animals all have the same emotions humans do. Sometimes animals seem more gentle with each other than people do. The way some people are with each other is just disgusting. Have you seen how monkeys look after each other? If that doesn’t melt your heart; then something could be wrong with you. I wish people were more gentle and sensitive towards each other. Being tough is alright when you need to be; but not always. You don’t need to always be defensive, this is speaking from experience. You can’t let the past make you who you are. You cannot blame others for all that may be wrong in your life. Yet it seems easier doesn’t it?

The next person you scowl at or launch vile words at; think about it before you do so. How does this tie in with the dead rabbit I saw? I don’t know if it does. Maybe I wanted to write down how sad it made me seeing that. Maybe there’s more to it. Just be gentle. Be kind. There’s enough shit in the world, don’t add to it.