Irish indie-folk group Raglans recently embarked upon a twelve-date UK tour to mark the release of their guitar-laden, self-titled debut album. I caught up with the band ahead of their Oxford show to discuss their album, their musical influences and touring.
“For an independent release – we’re on a small label in London – that was amazing,” frontman and lead vocalist Stephen Kelly said. “We sold out the Academy Dublin for our album launch. We don’t want it to end.”
Raglans are not a conventional rock band. Sean O’Brien plays the guitar, as well as the mandolin, cowbells and a second drum feature in their live shows. Trombones and trumpets are also present on the album.
“It’s stuff you sing along to and dance with – good craic really.” Stephen explained. “Energetic,” bassist Rhos Horan chipped in, “sometimes fast, sometimes… medium.”
Despite their large group of “Raglads” in Ireland, the band is still aware that, in the UK, people haven’t really heard of them. “We did a run of shows in the UK last year and hadn’t released anything [in the UK]… We’re very much a live band; we feed off the audience.”
Their Scottish dates also went well: “Edinburgh and Glasgow went really well, they were the first two dates after the album came out so it was really surprising that lots of people came, and they seemed to enjoy it,” Rhos offered.
Raglans have been planning a longer overseas venture for some time: “We were never very comfortable just being in Ireland. We wanted to play to as many people and in as many places as possible.” Added Stephen.
Recording the album at Long Island Studios in London was also novel. Surprisingly, it was finished in a mere thirteen days. “Jay Reynolds, who produced it, was pretty surprised!” Stephen revealed. “He said that it’s taken him that long to just do EPs before, but I think we were ready. We’d spent two years gigging and writing songs. Conn did all his drums for the album in a day! Rhos did his bass in a day too. So, it took me and Sean eleven days to do everything else!”
The recording process has also allowed the band to dismantle and rebuild songs. The improvements, however, have their downfalls. “It’s frightening how far the songs come from the first time we rehearse them. We heard a demo of one of the songs on the album, ‘Fake Blood’, fairly recently. I remember when we first heard the song we were like, ‘this is great!’ – high-fives all round. When we heard it the other day we were like, ‘right, we need to make sure that that never gets heard, by anyone, ever again.”
The return of Raglans to the UK this April follows on from their most recent trip in February, where they supported younglings The Strypes on their headline tour. “It was great,” Conn reminisced. “The tour was sold out pretty much every day, so we were playing in these packed venues. It was exactly what a band like us needed: to just be going and playing in front of people.”
The Strypes are old friends of Raglans. “We’ve known them since they were even younger than they are now,” Conn joked. However, the youngsters are not a musical influence of Raglans, although the latter appreciate their stage style. “Watching them live, and seeing how they put on a show, thats an influence,” Conn mused.
Stephen added that he thinks Raglans are more “song-orientated”. “We don’t fit into pigeon-holes,” he said, “which has been a problem for us. Now that the album’s out, though, people can listen to the songs and see that it’s a bit eclectic.”
We started to talk about musical inspirations. “I love Bob Dylan,” Stephen said. “I love his lyrics and his melodies. Even if people thought he couldn’t sing, his songs are good, his lyrics are great. It’s important to have substance rather than just being catchy.”
His band mates, however, took a more humorous approach to the question. “Anything thats fast and full of energy for me,” Conn started. “Massive 1D fan. Lots of personality, great fashion sense and fabulous hair. So yeah, 1D, probably my biggest influence.”
Rapper Coolio was Rhos’ artist of choice: “Rhos never turns down the opportunity to do ‘Gangster Paradise’,” Stephen contributed, as Rhos began to rap along (“I’m 23 now, but will I live to see 24?”).
Following the end of this tour, Raglans are back in Ireland to film their latest music video. The band have previously put out a number of videos on their YouTube channel, with their latest video for ‘Digging Holes’ reaching almost 65,000 views so far. “They’re so much fun,” Conn said.
The rest of the year is filled up with festival dates. “We get back from this [tour] and do a load of festivals in Wembley,” Conn joked. “… nah, we’ve got loads of Irish ones and maybe five or six UK ones.” After some conferring, the band worked out that they weren’t allowed to mention any of those yet – but watch this space.
“Apparently we play everything too fast,” Johnny Foreigner mocked whilst onstage at their London headline show at the Borderline, referring to the criticism they had recently received from the NME. They seemed to take pleasure in drifting deliberately slowly into ‘Riff Glitchard’, a track from their fourth album, You Can Do Better, that begins with hypnotic, unhurried guitar riffs. “Y’know what,” they added, “it was annoying specifically because it was the NME. Being in a band is about impressing teenage ‘you’, and teenage ‘me’ was one of the millions that read that shitrag before the internet came and wrecked its machinery.”
The 3/10 album review that came from the magazine did seem unfairly harsh on a band who have gradually picked up a fairly significant fanbase from almost ten years of solid touring and recording. They may have invited some of the criticism they got for the album by titling it as they did: “I think that any smarmy music journo worth his wage should be able to twist an album’s title into a criticism [… we didn’t consider it] at the time, but we realised when it started going out to press.” Nonetheless, given the grungy guitars, boy/girl vocals and lyrical talent which often gets overlooked, the band are definitely deserving of the praise which You Can Do Better received from other critics.
Johnny Foreigner recently added fourth member Lewes Herriot to the band. Having toured with him for a couple of years now (he toured as part of the band in support of their third album, Johnny Foreigner vs Everything), You Can Do Better was the first album he participated in the studio sessions for.
I spoke to guitarist and lead vocalist Alexei Berrow about the band’s new membership, and whether the group had felt the change. “Yeah, very much so. Part of that is like, technical stuff: two-guitar song-making nerd stuff, and part is two-guitar song-mixing nerd stuff – two totally different disciplines. Basically, it makes it a lot more fun to write and a lot harder to record, but both were super rewarding.”
It’s this kind of development which has been interesting to hear: the writing has become more nuanced, but the energy – which has always been a key feature of their touring – remains as strong as ever, with all members of the band covered in sweat by the end of the night on the small stage at the Borderline. “For bands like us, touring the show is kind of why we do this. As musicians and friends, it makes us tighter, and the privilege of seeing the world as something greater than a tourist is a massive reward. All of that feeds back into the art we create.”
However, as the band grows older, the list of songs requested becomes longer. In London, a game of rock-paper-scissors ensues to decide whether to play ‘Salt, Pepper and Spindarella’ or ‘Eyes Wide Terrified’, both from the band’s first album. ‘Salt, Pepper and Spindarella’ wins, but ‘Eyes Wide Terrified’ does still make an appearance later in the set. I later asked Alexei how the band decides on the mix of songs used in the setlist. “We have twelve-week discussions about it in a windowless room, mostly. Some songs we kind of feel we’re more obliged to keep in rotation than others, and some we fall in and out of love with. Some we genuinely forget about. Mostly it’s a long but happy debate.”
Part of where a band’s key setlist decisions lie is in the encore – what to play to finish the show. But at the Borderline, Johnny Foreigner chose not to include an encore. I asked if encores had become a bit pretentious for the band. “Yeah, kind of. It’s supposed to be this spontaneous ‘oh, go on then!’ gesture, but it’s not at all. It’s like pantomime.”
This relates to the whole idea of arranging a setlist: “It’s important to us that we have a coherent and flowing show. So, if we decide to do an encore, there’s a risk of not playing the ending, if the audience don’t clap for long enough or whatever.”
The visuals that supported the band’s set, projected onto the wall behind them, gave a sense of a much more considered song grouping. Not that the consideration dimmed the excitement of the gig – indeed, the recognition of the somewhat contrived nature of an encore felt refreshing. “We’ve done – and will do again, I’m sure – genuine encore songs, and they’ve been hella fun, if a little sloppy because we didn’t prepare it. But this tour was definitely a precise ‘play-our-best-set-and-vanish’ kind of show.”
You can’t fault Johnny Foreigner for not being a genuine group of people. They believe in what they’re doing, they’re not mired in any of the bullshit that covers an industry which becomes more commercialised daily. And it’s endearing: not in a cute or sweet way, but in an impressive way – to have avoided being sucked in by the rubbish. Frankly, their criticisms of the NME are couched in a self-awareness that makes them seem caught somewhere between washed up, egotistical rock stars and eager-to-please teenagers. It’s hard not to like them for that. “By design, the NME is a self-perpetuating lifestyle magazine way more than it’s an objective music review source,” Alexei declared. “They don’t tell you what they think is good as much as what they think is cool, and fuck it, I wish we were cool. Pathetic, innit?”
As you can probably already tell, I’m more supportive of this government’s policies than perhaps the previous author was. I’ll assume you’ve seen the figures, saying that we currently have the lowest unemployment since 2009, and depending on your political allegiance, you’ll either think that’s a good thing, or evidence of systematic number-fudging by the current government.
As is now tradition, the second paragraph of an opinion piece is supposed to reference some obscure work of fiction, or academic paper, which summarises the arguments made in the article more succinctly and eloquently than I could ever hope to do, while also lending me the air of being both more knowledgeable and well read than you, the reader.
I’m not going to do that.
Maybe it’s because I disagree that this argument ought to be centred on idealism, we’re not going to settle the capitalism vs. socialism debate in the 700 or so words remaining in this piece. Similarly, it might be because I think it’s highly disingenuous to make reference explicitly to a story, or other analogous device, because there will always be a degree of misrepresentation of the side that the author doesn’t disagree with. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t actually read anything that I would dare quote in support of my argument – after all, I read Biochemistry.
Regardless, if we are to have a debate about whether life in Britain is getting better, it helps to know what we should look at.
Should it be employment figures? Possibly not – as Kate rightly pointed out, there are many issues with looking at official statistics, derived mostly from how ‘unemployed’ is qualified by their definitions, and the fact that the huge number of ‘discouraged workers’ are simply excluded from the total. That’s not to say that unemployment figures have no use, but perhaps they are not the most accurate measure of wellbeing.
Should we perhaps then take a look at the average wage? Surely if that rises, then it’s a good thing? Well, although that seems somewhat of a truism, it is important to remember once again that everything is relative, and in this case the cost of living may well be increasing faster than wages increase – inflation certainly is.
Perhaps the most useful indicator of specific wellbeing, assuming that the employment figures are relatively constant, is the average disposable income, adjusted for inflation. After all, if that goes up, then surely life is genuinely getting better?
And guess what: it has. As David Cameron said at Prime Minister’s Questions a few days ago, disposable income is higher than it has ever been in this country. And this doesn’t even account for the imminent raise in the income tax threshold, a change that means that you won’t start paying income tax at all until you earning go above 10,000 pounds per year. While this change may not seem like much, if we’re complaining about the Conservative-led government leading to a fuel bill increase of some 70 pounds per year, then a policy that will have practically no direct impact except giving the worst off in society more than 700 pounds is surely something to be lauded?
Except of course, this figure wasn’t mentioned at all in the 1300 word indictment of growth and increasing employment figures, that bizarrely mentioned union membership and unfair dismissal cases as evidence that “Britain’s not working yet.” It seems a bit unfair to write off the fastest post-recession job recovery in 40 years as predicated on constant and increasing abuse of workers at the bottom rung of the ladder, unless there is actually some evidence that millions of people are only being kept in work by companies taking advantage of low union membership, or the inability to complain about their working conditions.
The point to be made is that it’s perfectly possible for living standards to increase and for people to become financially better off, even if incomes aren’t actually rising. Furthermore, if we’re talking about the cost of living, what could be done more than freezing council tax, fuel duty and increasing the small business rate, all of which have been enacted?
Ultimately though, this debate is about jobs, and whether or not we, as a nation, are back to work. And to that, the resounding answer is “not yet”. However, that doesn’t mean that we aren’t moving in the right direction, for all of Labour’s predictions that “They have a programme which will lead to the disappearance of a million jobs” or the constant stream of pessimism leading to the record of 30 million people currently in work in the UK. However, if the Office for Budget Responsibility is to be believed, and they’ve consistently under-estimated growth, then we’re set to have unemployment fall to 6.9% over the next two years, and for inflation to follow suit, settling at around 2%.
If by then things aren’t looking up, then we can probably have another crack at this discussion, but just as one swallow doesn’t make a summer, neither does it mean that we’re due another winter.
The article Spiro is responding to can be found here.
FEATURED PHOTO/ Department for Business, Innovation and Skills
You know those days when you just need a haiku to get you through? The Oxford Student‘s got your back.
Finals and Thatcher,
Facebook chattering classes,
Would you please shut up.
In light of the recent publication Does Spelling Matter? by Magdalen College English professor Simon Horobin, The Oxford Student thought we’d have a go at answering that question ourselves.
Be sure to let us know what you think in the comments section at the bottom of the article.
Many of us will agree with James J. Kilpatrick that “spelling is one of the outward and visible marks of a disciplined mind.” There are, of course, many arguments to be made for the importance of spelling. We can assert that ‘proper’ spelling — dictionary spelling — makes for linguistic clarity, that it allows us to grasp words’ meanings so that we can then ponder the implications of those meanings. Alternative spellings are a distraction; they draw our attention away from the very meanings that language was created to convey.
Scarcely anyone would claim that there is any intrinsic significance in the way words are spelled. The particular spellings we have adopted in our modern English are more or less arbitrary. We read in the dictionary that the word “coffee” was derived from the Italian “caffe”, which was derived from the Turkish “kahveh”, which was in turn derived from the Arabic “qahwah”, or perhaps even the Ethiopean region of Kaffa.
Every word has a history which makes certain spellings more etymologically justified than others, but the biographies of words are just as arbitrary as their present spellings. It does not matter how many f’s or e’s we decide to spell “coffee” with; what matters is that there is a consensus among readers and writers as to how the word should be spelled. One of the reasons Johnson decided to write his famous dictionary was his realisation that, with the English language evolving so quickly, the literatures of one generation were destined to become unintelligible to succeeding generations. The changes the English language underwent during the 13th and 14th centuries — when English was a welter of Germanic dialects absorbing Latinate rhythms and words from French — were immense. It was in a state of perpetual transformation.
Spelling takes on new significance when we consider it in this broader historical sense. Think how many writings — literary and historical — have been made inaccessible to us in their original forms because of the changes wrought on our language over time. Consider the enormous number of “modern translations” in extant of our Old and Middle English texts. Many are bold enough to read Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in the original, but even the boldest depend on lengthy scholarly notes to decipher precisely what is meant. And let’s not even get started on Beowulf…
Mark Twain once said: “I don’t give a damn for a man who can only spell a word one way.” For Twain, spelling was a form of personal expression; it was a creative act. “We might as well make all clothes alike and cook all dishes alike,” he said. “Sameness is tiring, variety is pleasing.”
Twain would probably have appreciated the whimsical spellings of Chaucer and other medieval English poets. In an age when there was no consensus on spelling, long before the Oxford English Dictionary and when oral tradition prevailed, Chaucer was free to spell the same word several different ways, even on the same page. In the twelfth line of the Canterbury Tales prologue he spells “pilgrimage” the way we do today; in the twenty-first line, he spells it “pilgrymage.” Similar cases abound in his works.
While it may be true that standardised spelling makes it easier for us to understand the writings of both our contemporaries and our predecessors, it is also true that formalising the spelling of English words can detract from the richness and diversity of our language. Spelling in present-day French language is typically strictly regulated, less amenable to the constant adaptations that shape modern English. Some may argue that language is made poorer by the refusal to embrace changes that define our time and place in history. Surely language should not be fossilised, and although it may be exceedingly difficult to understand Beowulf and Gawain in the original, we cannot deny that there is a certain beauty (and, of course, historical significance) in the droll spellings and melodic cadences of both works.
Whether spelling matters, then, raises a more fundamental question about our language. Which is more important: allowing language the freedom to evolve and be adapted to the peculiarities of different eras, even if it means that the productions of that era will inevitably become unintelligible to us? Or stamping all words with a common form to preserve a unified and intelligible body of writings throughout the ages? Should we be willing to incorporate into our dictionaries the ever-increasing body of slang and neologisms to which twenty-first century technologies have given rise (gotta go, c u later, brb). If so, will such words be meaningless to future generations? If not, we are denying ourselves the fullest expression of our age.
It is a problem not easily overcome, but one that leads us to consider the things that we value most in our language.
PHOTOS/turonistan, happyplace, juice2
Set in fin de siècle Sweden, A Little Night Music is Stephen Sondheim’s Tony award winning musical which, under the helm of the co-directors Griffith Rees and Jack Noutch, already promises much for the Oxford Playhouse in sixth week. This preview was shown in the crowded environs of Somerville College Chapel but, despite the lack of atmosphere granted by this 1930s, white-washed building, the mood of the musical was immediately present as the lieder chorus began to tune up – all part of the overture – and the orchestra started to play. The lieder act somewhat like a Greek chorus, commenting on the events of the musical as it goes along and of course providing fuller harmonies in the big numbers. Although some of the vocals were a little shaky, that was more than excusable in the morning and with a further two weeks to go; the tuning was almost perfect, which is definitely the most important thing.
The main cast of this production are set in motion by the tuning fork of Madame Armfeldt – a character given in this production a mystical responsibility to guide the characters. They all work seamlessly with the lieder chorus to bring out the story of Fredrik Egermann, a lawyer who has married a younger, ‘trophy’ wife to discover that she is unwilling to lose her virginity even to her husband, propelling him back into the arms of his former lover Desiree Armfeldt. Things are complicated by Desiree’s new, jealous lover Count Carl-Magnus who begins to suspect Desiree is not attentive to him alone, whilst his wife Charlotte looks on scathingly.
These four actors work together wonderfully, delivering well the humour of their situation – especially a scene involving Fredrik in the Count’s bathrobe – whilst also aided by the orchestra in building tension. Aleksandr Cvetkovic displays impressive vocals and gravity in the soldier’s uniform of the Count, sparring particularly well with Richard Hill as Fredrik, a character I wish that I could perhaps have seen more of in the preview. Claire Parry as Charlotte brings bitter humour along with the sadness of her role as the cheated wife and raised several laughs, whilst Georgina Hellier was totally natural in her role, playful and daring as a woman having to fight for her survival. The entire cast came together to sing ‘A Weekend in the Country’ which, with its complicated polyphony of lines and multiple stories happening together, was performed with real passion to end the first act.
Finally, to the core of this production – the orchestra was fantastic as the ever-present background music leading the musical onwards. They blended perfectly with the singers despite this being their first rehearsal with both the orchestra and the actors, something I only discovered after the preview. I was not given the name of the conductor, but I offer him my praise! This musical has much potential and I will certainly be going to see the finished product in the Playhouse.
A Little Night Music plays at the Playhouse until Saturday of 6th week.
Saturday 11th –Wednesday 15th June (excluding Sunday)
The Macmillan Room, The Oxford Union
Tickets £7 (£4 for Union members)
Footprint Theatre, in association with Picnic Productions and the Oxford Union, presents, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Is Enuf, a choreopoem written by the African American playwright and poet, Ntozake Shange.
Shange has been hailed as one of the great American writers of the 20th century. In this piece she takes inspiration from the endless myths created around women who are labelled by their colour, gender and sexuality from antiquity to the present day and from stories passed down through generations. Through a series of monologues, some funny, some deeply painful, Shange explores identity, survival and individuality.
I first discovered the play eight years ago and was immediately struck by Shange’s ability to reach across the boundaries of race, sex, culture and experience as she explores what it means to be human as we face the trials of daily life. Combined with the play’s direct, unforgiving, but equally celebratory nature, I was instantly inspired and wanted to put together its first production in Oxford.
Ntozake Shange began writing the poems that make up the play in 1974, with the aim of presenting the realities of seven different kinds of women growing up in America during the mid twentieth century. She states that the play is an exploration of “their triumphs and errors, and their struggle to become all that is forbidden by their environment, all that is forfeited by their gender, all that they have forgotten.” The characters in the play remain nameless and assume hegemony as dictated by the fullness of their lives. They are each identified only by a colour of the rainbow, displaying Shange’s use the term “coloured” as a metaphor for emotions and states of mind, rather than simply skin tone.
This production aims to bring to life Shange’s poetic and political reflections on identity, sexuality, abuse, racism, and choice, issues that cannot be constricted by period or place. The characters directly interact with the audience as they share the stories of their survival through poetry, music, dance, and their intimate personal experiences, whilst each woman strives to find her voice in a world that silences her.
7th Week Wednesday – Saturday
7.30 pm (+ 2.30 pm Saturday)
Merton College Gardens
Brandon Thomas’ Charley’s Aunt seems, at first, a natural choice for the Merton Floats’ garden play. It is easy to imagine characters like Lord Fancourt Babberley once walking through the surrounding halls, even in the play’s late Victorian setting is the fictional St Olde’s college. There is no attempt to hide the ironies of this production, and even the script seems to be in on the joke: a guffaw of laughter greeted the line, “These amateur theatricals have taken up a great deal of my time, but next term I really intend to do some work.” This sentiment, delivered as much to a sympathetic audience as to the other characters on stage, really exposes the light-hearted tone of this production. It is important to note that from the opening moments of this play it is clear the aim is not, and never will be, serious.
Indeed, when it becomes apparent that the play revolves around the adoption of drag by the aforementioned ‘Babbs,’ it’s easy to feel caught in a cross between Oscar Wilde and P.G. Wodehouse. The script doesn’t quite hit those heights, and a lot of the initial parody is lost through the slight detachment of the actors from their roles. The play may be a farce, but the humour should stem from the actors’ unbelievable stupidity. At times it feels a tad over-rehearsed, reactions coming before they are due, but at others quite the opposite is true. In the first scene between Jack Chesney, played by Max Mills, and his scout, Brassett, the characterisation of Jack was undermined when couldn’t remember his lines. Since the part of Brassett was taken up by Frederick Macmillan only a few days before the preview, such slips are understandable, but it still left Jack looking more like an abusive master than the charming foppish type his is meant to be. Mills hits his stride later on and his comic potential is best presented in the scene between Jack and his father, where he and Joshua Harris-Kirkwood pull off extraordinary similarity of physicality and facial expressions as they each push the other towards marrying a millionaire.
As the title suggests, the play hangs on the mysterious Donna Lucia d’Alvadorez, though not the one you might expect from the program. Instead Babbs, played with aplomb by Peter Swann, takes the role and performs it with a clownish comedy that holds the humour of the first act together where it threatens to wear thin. Switching between soap opera melodrama and cavalier flippancy at the drop of a hat (or the retention of it by ill mannered guardians), Swann challenges Mills’ position as the hero of the play with an easy charm. Indeed, with such loud characters dominating the stage the quiet, tentative performance given by Charles O’Halloran as Charley is welcome and provides some genuinely touching notes. The cast is certainly talented, yet there always seems some distance between the actors and the characters they play, as though they have forgotten that they are supposed to be showing us the comedy of them, not telling us. Occasionally the upper-class accents adopted all-round fall through, and some performances drop a little when not centre-stage. However, these problems are all minor, and could be ironed out over the next week before the play opens if Finola Austin proves as thorough a director as she appears. I have no doubt it will end up a pleasant evening of levity. Just don’t expect it to be serious.