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Month: April 2017

Album: Mount Eerie — A Crow Looked at Me

Written by Joe Casson on . Posted in Music.

Released 24th March via P.W. Elverum & Sun

9/10

In his twenty years making music, first as The Microphones until 2002 and now as Mount Eerie, Phil Elverum has cultivated the image of a man of mystery. His music conjures up whole worlds replete with natural imagery illustrating more personal revelations, obscuring our understanding of the man himself. Instead, there is a tendency to view him as a somewhat mystical figure existing somewhere between human society and the natural environment. This is bolstered, no doubt, by the fact that he lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest that is overlooked by the real Mount Eerie.

Relatively publicity-shy, for a six-month period in early 2016 he communicated almost exclusively via haikus on Twitter (one typical example: ‘Pacific Northwest/pothead in a Subaru/with humungous shorts’). He spoke little of his personal life, and the biography on his website reads: “Possibly sociopathic, I personally don’t care that much about people and wish that everyone else was a little more focussed on the song, not the singer”.

Last June, Elverum lost his luxury of privacy in a big and real way: no longer a mystic, it turns out he’s just a man. We found out his wife Geneviève Castrée Elverum, who recorded under the names Woelv and Ô PAON, had been diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer shortly after the birth of their daughter, and the financial burden was so great that the couple had to resort to crowdfunding. Geneviève died just over a month afterwards. Suddenly, one haiku from seven months earlier reading, “when you hear about/what’s happening in my life/you’ll think ‘Why’d he tweet?'” became less whimsical and more crushing.

Recorded in his late wife’s workspace and predominantly using her instruments, Elverum’s new album A Crow Looked at Me is the product of this turmoil, and is like little he has previously recorded. What is initially striking is how sonically distinct it is from his recent albums: where 2012’s twin albums Clear Moon and Ocean Roar and 2015’s Sauna were droning, foggy and vague, the songs on A Crow Looked At Me are direct and stripped down to their bare bones.

No longer the expansive wash of sounds Elverum has employed before, here the music trails his voice: he is accompanied by quiet acoustic strumming and infrequent swells of pianos and electric guitars. Softly in the background, we hear drum machines that are uncomfortably evocative of hospital machinery. Melodies are scarce and, in their absence, the length of most lines is dictated by how much Elverum has to say. Now more than any other time, he has a lot to say.

While Elverum has previously spoken of pursuing a more direct writing approach — “Dense with easy words. Say everything as it is. Resist big-picture reflections” — it is hard or even cruel to imagine this is what he had in mind. A Crow Looked at Me is a grief diary set to music, wandering through time from the immediate aftermath of Geneviève’s death to the moment the two met, and back through the midst of her illness.

The album is lacking the epiphanic observations that we see in the rest of his work, where personal realisations are blown up to cosmic proportions. Instead, Elverum is preoccupied with in-the-moment ruminations; one moment he celebrates the small victory of finally throwing away Geneviève’s toothbrush, the next he is overcome as he checks the post a week after her death to discover a package she had ordered for their daughter. The album’s emotional potency lies in the small details that leave songs distinguished more by the lyrical content than the music, and each has at least one line which hits you unexpectedly hard.

It is perhaps inaccurate though to interpret this devastating directness as a stylistic choice to articulate grief, rather than a product of grief itself. In ‘Seaweed’, he searches for symbolism in his surroundings to process his loss: “I can’t remember, were you into Canada Geese?/Is it significant, these hundreds on the beach?/What about Foxgloves — is that a flower you liked?” He finds no meaning or solace, and it is only in this context that he numbly declares on the opening track “it’s not for singing about/it’s not for making into art/when real death comes to the house, all poetry is dumb”. This is a significant and devastating mission statement for an artist who has written about concepts of life and death for most of his career, but now surmises “conceptual emptiness was cool to talk about, back before I knew my way around these hospitals”.

All of this makes for an album that is exceptionally difficult to review. I spent a lot of time banging my head against a wall when writing this, wondering whether it was appropriate to review A Crow Looked at Me and how I would go about doing so. After all, Elverum could be forgiven for having the key qualities of music criticism — recording integrity, melody, instrumentation, lyrics — a long way from the front of his mind when creating this work. Rather, his intention, detailed when announcing the album, is simple: “I make these songs and put them out into the world just to multiply my voice saying that I love her. I want it known”. More than an artistic work, this album is a simple expression of love for his wife, and an epigraph for Elverum’s life with her. The album is defined by her absence, yet at the same time sees her looming over every word.

In the end, I decided to review this for two reasons. First, it deserves publicity for the most basic of reasons: human empathy. Simply put, it feels appropriate to amplify this declaration of love and grief. Secondly, more directly, A Crow Looked at Me has lingered on my mind more than any recent album I can recall: it is one of the best creative works Elverum has put out to date, even though we probably both wish it never needed to exist.

Needless to say, it’s a tough listen. The gaps between the songs are mercilessly short, leaving little time to process the difficult emotions communicated within each song until the end of the album. Moreover, its nonlinear nature is exhausting and disorienting, likely purposefully so. It sounds creaking and cold, with little of the warm sonic expanses of previous albums that allowed the listener to get lost within; now there are only Elverum’s words. Finally, and obviously, this is a hard listen because it’s just so sad: this is Music To Cry To if I’ve ever heard it. Luckily, Elverum’s lyricism is so well-crafted that, despite how painful and dense it is, you can’t help but dig deep and hold on. Moreover, there are more emotions than sadness here, and the album serves as a tribute to Geneviève and Elverum’s relationship with her as much as it resembles a memorial.

In this sense, the album’s final three songs make some headway towards a conclusion. In ‘Toothbrush/Trash’, Elverum sings “the echo of you in the house dies down”, and observes haunting memories becoming replaced by sanitised photographs. Though “it does not feel good”, it’s a necessary part of the grieving process. The album’s beating heart ‘Soria Moria’ traces the longing that has followed Elverum from his childhood through his transformation from artist to caregiver in Geneviève’s final months, contextualising the album among Elverum’s other works. On the way, he lifts the melody from 2001 song ‘The Moon’, references the creative process behind 2008’s Dawn, borrows the pitch-black, crackling feedback from 2007’s black metal-influenced Wind’s Poem and returns briefly to the elemental imagery he is associated with. For the first time on the album, Geneviève is not the overarching focus.

As ‘Crow’ ends the album on a quiet, intimate note, the transition is complete: unlike every previous song, it isn’t sung to Geneviève, and she shifts from being referred to in the second person to third person. She’s replaced by their unnamed daughter as Elverum reflects on a November morning’s walk with her and ponders about the world she will grow up in. In an album characterised by harrowing intimacy, it is comforting to see Elverum released, somewhat, from his grief. As the poem by Joanne Kyger on the album’s cover reads: “the best thing about the past is that it’s over”.

Elverum once described the song as “a beautiful deep spring that somehow cuts through all layers of complication and can hold permanent and true wisdom in a few simple words or sounds”. To a great degree this explains why A Crow Looked at Me is such a satisfying and accomplished album: by singing as directly as he can about emotions he is still very much in thrall to, Elverum has created an honest and lingering tribute to his wife that is as loving as it is catatonic. This is one of the most powerful pieces of art that Elverum has created, and will rightly linger in the minds of everyone who listens to it, but to score this album out of ten will always feel more than a little graceless.

To understand this album you need to hear it: for yourself, for Phil Elverum, and for Geneviève.

Inspiring Women at The University of Manchester

Written by Mancunion on . Posted in News.

‘Celebrating Inspiring Women at Manchester’ was an event held for International Women’s Day, the event celebrated University of Manchester alumni in healthcare and looked into the challenges that still exist.

Vice-chancellor Dame Nancy Rothwell opened the event by saying “we are one of the most diverse Universities in the United Kingdom in the most diverse city … that’s extremely important to us and it’s also a source of pride and strength”.

Dr Dawn Edge, Senior Lecturer in the School of Health Sciences and the University’s Academic Lead for Equality, Diversity and Inclusion, led the questions and was joined by Dr Sheena Cruickshank, Senior Lecturer in Immunology and the University Academic Lead for Public Engagement, Ms Anya Golder who is currently undertaking a PhD specialising in cancer research, and Dr Patricia Troop CBE who was awarded an Outstanding Alumni Award in 2007.

Women now make up around a third of consultants and half of GPs and the panel talked about the need to change the way healthcare is practiced to reflect this, as oppose to having a rigid system and expecting to simply “squeeze people in”.

In addition to this, the hour and a half discussion covered a wide range of topics such as health literacy, the role of social media and the internet, the success and challenges surrounding vaccinations and the benefits of having an open conversation about both mental and physical health.

Dr Troop emphasised the need to engage with areas outside of healthcare such as manufacturers and supermarkets saying that “the message alone is not enough”. She went on to say that “you’ve got to work with all sorts of sectors to try and enable somebody to make good lifestyle choices … [while being] very careful not to be judgemental”.

Dr Cruickshank talked about the importance of citizen science and said: “Science is affecting all of our lives, all of the time … being aware of what’s going on, being able to take part in it and make decisions is really critical”.

Cruickshank’s been involved in the Britain Breathing project which developed an app for people to use to learn about allergies with the help of asthma sufferers. This aim of this approach is to ensure that users needs are being met at an integral level.

The event ended with the whole panel being asked: ‘What would Manchester’s inspiring women say to their younger selves?’ Dr Troop said: “Be kinder to yourself”, Dr Cruickshank said: “You’re better than you think you are”, Ms Golder said: “Mum’s right, sweets are bad for you”, and Dr Edge said “Don’t take no for an answer”.

Retrospective: Sex Week 2017

Written by Caitlin Astbury on . Posted in Lifestyle.

From the 20th to the 24th of March, Sexpression Manchester hosted Sex Week at the University of Manchester Students’ Union. Sex Week, which is now in its third year, was set up in 2015 with the aim of creating an open and inclusive space in which students can gather to discuss anything from gender and sexuality to sex work.

This year, Sex Week featured a huge range of events, with something for everyone to get involved in, from a Sexual Pleasure workshop to a chance at winning a £50 bar tab at the sex-themed pub quiz! Several of the talks provided an opportunity for medics and other health care students to learn more about issues that they may encounter in their future careers: Action for Trans* Health and the LGBT Foundation discussed LGBTQ+ issues in healthcare, whilst representatives from the George House Trust spoke about their experiences of living with HIV.

However, the highlight of the week for me was a discussion on sex work. This featured John Goldring and Adam Westall from Manchester Metropolitan University, National Ugly Mugs (who seek greater access to justice for sex workers), the English Collective of Prostitutes (who campaign for the decriminalisation and safety of sex workers) and the Sex Workers Open University (a sex worker-led collective fighting criminalisation and providing support for sex workers).

Sex work can be a divisive topic, and it was fascinating to hear a point of view that can very often be overlooked. A large focus of the talk was the impact of austerity measures on people who sell sex. One of the main concerns regarding austerity is that it can force people into sex work, which can be seen as degrading and exploitative.

Laura, from the English Collective of Prostitutes, disputed this and argued that, “austerity means that people have less choice generally… not being able to feed your children is degrading. [Sex work] is a survival strategy, it’s financial independence from men, partners, the state… it’s often a route out of degrading treatment.” The guest speakers argued that decriminalising sex work and treating it like any other job would lead to improved standards and safety for sex workers.

Additionally, with more and more students turning to sex work to subsidise their living costs and escape the ever-increasing weight of student debt, it was interesting to hear firsthand what needs to be done to protect and support student sex workers. Alex from National Ugly Mugs stressed that “it should be considered discrimination” when universities suspend students on the grounds of sex work, and argued that every university should protect student sex workers from this. Laura also argued that universities should provide counselling and support services for student sex workers, and urged students to campaign for the decriminalisation of sex work.

As well as organising Sex Week, Sexpression Manchester also promotes safe sex and healthy relationships on campus and in the local community. For many students, moving to a new city can be daunting, and it can be difficult to find and access local sexual health services. Sexpression Manchester aims to break down the secrecy and stigma surrounding STI testing by running free chlamydia and gonorrhoea testing stalls on campus several times per semester.

Additionally, the Advice Service in the SU offers a huge range of sexual health services, from free condoms, female condoms and dental dams to STI and pregnancy testing. The Hathersage Centre (on Upper Brook Street, just a short walk from campus) also provides contraception, pregnancy testing and a range of other specialist services including psychosexual counselling.

Sexpression is a national charity that aims to empower young people to make informed decisions about their relationships and sexual health. They run informal workshops in the community, hold talks and events at the university and run STI testing stalls on campus. If you’re interested in getting involved, or maybe even organising an event for Sex Week 2018, visit our Facebook page to keep up to date with our volunteering opportunities and work on campus.

Review: The Pasta Factory

Written by Miriam Mizzi on . Posted in Food & Drink.

As a student, pasta is a reoccurring theme in my dinners, so I wouldn’t normally choose to eat pasta out at a restaurant. However, a menu teeming with fresh ingredients, vegetarian options, and meat delights had me sold. I thought The Pasta Factory would surely be able to beat my simplistic dried pasta dishes which always involve a heavy after-kick of garlic.

Walking into the restaurant left me feeling underwhelmed. The décor could definitely do with a revamp. The floor was a cream, plasticky, tile effect and the tables were laid with logo paper sheets instead of table cloths – something I really don’t like. Yes, I understand the ease, but the feeling it gives to a restaurant isn’t shabby chic but more ‘can’t be bothered’.

After the initial visual disappointment, we were met with a beaming Italian-accented waiter who was keen to walk us through the menu. He eagerly pointed out and described the daily specials and with that information, left us to deliberate.

As we conversed over the menu options, I overheard numerous nearby tables speaking Italian, surely a good sign I thought. If the pasta brings in its native makers, then surely it’ll be good enough for me. Finally, we decided on ordering, one mixed antipasti and one vegetarian antipasti to start, one special spinach and cheese ravioli served with a tomato sauce and fresh tomatoes, and one ravioli filled with ham and topped with hazelnuts.

We waited contently with a glass of red wine each — the cheapest being £5 for a small glass — and looked up keenly when our waiter brought over our antipastis. The meat option was instantly more pleasing to the eye due to the variety of colour and textures included, however, the vegetarian board was more intriguing due to the assortment of interesting ingredients that were dotted across the wooden board. The different parts of the antipasti were explained to us in detail so we should happily dive in knowing exactly what we were tasting.

The stand out flavours on the vegetarian option included the fresh, bursting bruschetta and the richness of the earthy cheese. However, I would have preferred another slice of toasted bread rather than the thin, crispy flatbread-esque item that was included. I also found the lettuce leaves that were included, as kind of pots for the cheese, were strange and unnecessary and the addition of a spoonful of tart hummus was confusing. The price of £7 was steep for the amount included, I understand The Pasta Factory has an ethos of supporting small suppliers, something I admire, but a slightly larger portion wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially not the customer.

Feeling somewhat dampened by the starter, we tried to remain positive, as the fresh pasta was why we were both really there. When our mains were brought out, we knew we had made the right menu decisions. My dish was vibrant and fresh looking, a mix of fresh baby tomatoes and a blended tomato sauce surrounded a hearty pile of delicate squares of filled ravioli. I’ve always loved the idea of ravioli, the satisfaction of biting into fresh pasta encasing my chosen fillings never lets me down. I can safely say I felt that way with this dish. The spinach and ricotta inside to my perfectly formed ravioli worked extremely well with the slightly sweet tomato sauce that they were paired with. I could almost certainly see the waiters glancing at me as I wiped my bowl clean.

My partner exclaimed his pasta was a delight too. The salty ham inside this ravioli combined with the rich cheese fondue sauce created a truly lavish experience, and, the crunchiness of the crushed hazelnuts on top gave the dish an added texture that was more than welcome.

We paid and I thought about a closing sentence for this article, but I couldn’t come up with much more than avoid the pricey, unsatisfying starters, but the pasta is a winner — it’s all in the name.