I was fortunate enough to spend time with Chris Cunningham over the weekend. I've idolised him since I was 16 and meeting him was an absolutely amazing experience. He is humble, intelligent and deeply kind. He is also as much as a music obsessive as I am.
I have been greatly fascinated by his ability to make such beautiful art alongside such disturbing art....people usually tend to only be able to do one or the other and not both. To be able to do both to such an incredibly unique standard is so just inspiring.
This has always been a personal favourite:
He is also a massive Nirvana and Pavement fan!!
Pay your respects and definitely check his stuff out. I suggest you buy 'The Work Of Director Chris Cunningham' and 'Rubber Johnny' DVDs to start off with. They will change your life...they definitely changed mine....
D-Bird
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
Thursday, 5 February 2009
The Birds need you!!!
Put your money where your mouth is and contribute to the next upcoming Decasia Club fanzine!
WORDS/PHOTOS/ART - ALL WELCOME!
Deadline is February 19th. The next Decasia Club will be taking place on THURSDAY FEBURARY 26TH AT THE LEGION. The night is a homage to the amazing MTV programme Alternative Nation which was one of the few mediums I had in discovering great music when I was younger. We'll be playing the best in alternative music from the 1980s to present. Line up to be revealed shortly!!
D-Bird
LadyFest 2009
Unfortunately due to the poor weather, two thirds of The Birds are stuck out of London today and therefore we've had to cancel our gig tonight. We're really gutted about it and encourage those who are in London to pop down to Goldsmiths to see KASMs and a bunch of other great bands supporting the great cause.
We'll be back soon...
D-Bird
We'll be back soon...
D-Bird
Sunday, 25 January 2009
300 Word Challenge
We were asked by an American magazine, Sup Magazine to write about ourselves in 300 words...This is what we came up with (give or take a couple of words)....
C-Bird:
Look but don’t touch unless prompted. Don’t think me vain because you’ve caught me reapplying my lipstick. Creating a false symmetry fascinates me. Catching your gaze in my pocket mirror didn’t unnerve me at all. Why don’t you just come over and say, ‘Hi’?
D-Bird is....
Sada Abe, Oscar Wilde, Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Rainier Maria Rilke, Franz Kafka, John Waters, Roman Polanski, Takashi Miike, Michel Gondry, Ancient Egypt, Strawberry Milk, Whiskey, Vintage clothes, hairspray, lots and lots of jewellery, messy hair, Doc Martens, thermal socks, Nirvana, Selfish Cunt, The Pixies, Mazzy Star, Sonic Youth, Hole, Roy Orbison, Kate Bush, The Smiths, Duane Eddy, Santo and Johnny, bass guitars, drums, coloured drum sticks, self denial, the (in)ability to love, Sunday mornings, writing about anguish but wanting happiness, drawing things I can‘t speak about, reading to improve my mental wealth, dreaming about the world and why I shouldn‘t be in it...
X-Bird:
Weapon of choice? A bass, a drum, a voice. X-Bird wishes she could dance for 24 hours in her stiletto heels, only compelled to move when she feels a beat has hit her sufficiently in the gut. She lives on a desert island with a tattered copy of Kenneth Anger’s ‘Hollywood Babylon’ for company. Here she dreams of an old time glamour only a chorus girl lulled onto a semen stained casting couch could hope for. X-Bird wholeheartedly believes beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that one day she will lose her heart amidst a sea of feedback and reverb.
C-Bird:
Look but don’t touch unless prompted. Don’t think me vain because you’ve caught me reapplying my lipstick. Creating a false symmetry fascinates me. Catching your gaze in my pocket mirror didn’t unnerve me at all. Why don’t you just come over and say, ‘Hi’?
D-Bird is....
Sada Abe, Oscar Wilde, Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Rainier Maria Rilke, Franz Kafka, John Waters, Roman Polanski, Takashi Miike, Michel Gondry, Ancient Egypt, Strawberry Milk, Whiskey, Vintage clothes, hairspray, lots and lots of jewellery, messy hair, Doc Martens, thermal socks, Nirvana, Selfish Cunt, The Pixies, Mazzy Star, Sonic Youth, Hole, Roy Orbison, Kate Bush, The Smiths, Duane Eddy, Santo and Johnny, bass guitars, drums, coloured drum sticks, self denial, the (in)ability to love, Sunday mornings, writing about anguish but wanting happiness, drawing things I can‘t speak about, reading to improve my mental wealth, dreaming about the world and why I shouldn‘t be in it...
X-Bird:
Weapon of choice? A bass, a drum, a voice. X-Bird wishes she could dance for 24 hours in her stiletto heels, only compelled to move when she feels a beat has hit her sufficiently in the gut. She lives on a desert island with a tattered copy of Kenneth Anger’s ‘Hollywood Babylon’ for company. Here she dreams of an old time glamour only a chorus girl lulled onto a semen stained casting couch could hope for. X-Bird wholeheartedly believes beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that one day she will lose her heart amidst a sea of feedback and reverb.
Free Bird Remixes!
If anyone wants to do a remix...let me know!!
D-Bird
100remix.mp3
saintsremix.mp3
pastbetweenusremix.mp3
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Words
As part of D-Bird's club night Decasia on the 28th January, Decasian friends old and new have been invited to submit pieces of work for the Decasia fanzine. It promises to be a great night with some exciting live acts on the bill! Also I've heard on the grape vine that D-Bird and Selfish Cunt have something exciting up their sleeve! Hope to see you there!
Below is a piece I have written for the zine.
X-Bird
'Good Morning'
Unnerved at the thought of anonymous ears listening to your conversations with God you decided to internalise your prayers similar to they way in which you kept your sins secret. You were sure that this way God would hear you in every fine detail. You wanted to be sure he would hear you perfectly, right to the very last silent syllable. No Chinese whispers. The message would be received first hand from your silent tongue. You can’t remember how long you spoke but suddenly overcome with the weight of your eyelids you surrendered yourself to sleep and allowed it to wash over you in waves.
You woke the next morning optimistic. The ease with which you flexed your toes suggested the heating finally worked. From your bed you saw the blue sky struggling through grey bloated clouds. You decided to have a lie in. Unaware of how much time had passed you drifted in and out of light sleep. Dreaming, the occasional nightmare seeping through. These episodes became fragmented memories of moments that never really happened. No clear beginning, no clear end. Your unconscious created the story but you couldn’t remember it. You remembered how this used to bother you. You used to think sleep burgled you of your imagination. You reminisced of those moments spent during uneventful days piecing together the previous night’s unconscious narratives like a jigsaw puzzle. They never did quite fit how you wanted them to so you dug deep into your imagination and thought up new narratives completely different to the fragmented memories of your dreams. Unable to understand your sleep any better you concluded that you were cheating your subconscious and in doing so, cheating yourself.
Shaking the last remnants of sleep out of your mind you willed yourself out of bed. As your toes grazed the carpet you watched as the blue sky in an act of defiance shattered opposing clouds into soft swirls of frozen crystals dispersing into the atmosphere.
Today is brand new.
Below is a piece I have written for the zine.
X-Bird
'Good Morning'
Unnerved at the thought of anonymous ears listening to your conversations with God you decided to internalise your prayers similar to they way in which you kept your sins secret. You were sure that this way God would hear you in every fine detail. You wanted to be sure he would hear you perfectly, right to the very last silent syllable. No Chinese whispers. The message would be received first hand from your silent tongue. You can’t remember how long you spoke but suddenly overcome with the weight of your eyelids you surrendered yourself to sleep and allowed it to wash over you in waves.
You woke the next morning optimistic. The ease with which you flexed your toes suggested the heating finally worked. From your bed you saw the blue sky struggling through grey bloated clouds. You decided to have a lie in. Unaware of how much time had passed you drifted in and out of light sleep. Dreaming, the occasional nightmare seeping through. These episodes became fragmented memories of moments that never really happened. No clear beginning, no clear end. Your unconscious created the story but you couldn’t remember it. You remembered how this used to bother you. You used to think sleep burgled you of your imagination. You reminisced of those moments spent during uneventful days piecing together the previous night’s unconscious narratives like a jigsaw puzzle. They never did quite fit how you wanted them to so you dug deep into your imagination and thought up new narratives completely different to the fragmented memories of your dreams. Unable to understand your sleep any better you concluded that you were cheating your subconscious and in doing so, cheating yourself.
Shaking the last remnants of sleep out of your mind you willed yourself out of bed. As your toes grazed the carpet you watched as the blue sky in an act of defiance shattered opposing clouds into soft swirls of frozen crystals dispersing into the atmosphere.
Today is brand new.
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