The City seems to drag me down, it’s grey and big, and leaves me with a frown. I try and smile, for those around, but that just drives me, towards a sound, a noise that I can seem to hear, a noise to make me disappear, into a background where the rest dare follow, because no one likes to be swallowed. They walk in Suits and all, hoping they too don’t fall, for the City is not too kind to those, who are so rude and turn up their nose, they are so brash and some even daunting, unlike the shade of red who seems to be flaunting, her God-given right to look cool and suave, She sticks to her own lane, And paves her path, for the City cannot reach certain ones, who know their own worth, who stick to their own guns, so keep your head up and look onwards, as the city can see those who look downwards, you’ve been here a while, you do belong, the city is listening, so sing out your song.
All posts by hamishcraig
Wearing the “Pars’R’Us” T to Holland & Barrett
I was in Holland and Barrett earlier buying some vitamin D tablets with my mum. Whilst getting my Clubcard out, one of the ladies behind the counter asked me, “what does ‘Pars r us’ mean?”. The way she asked me in her classic southern mum voice made me chuckle. I hesitated for a moment as I wasn’t sure what angle to approach the question with. Do I try and give her a mini lesson in the history of Grime? Would she even know what Grime is? Do I reference Tempa T? Do I tell her Westwood taught Tempa’s mum how to par on her knees … in the alleyway? These were all of questions that rushed through my head during those 3 seconds that I clambered for an appropriate answer.

In the end I just said “It’s a reference to a niche music genre from the early 2000s” to which I didn’t get much of a reply. I think I may have gotten a, “ah okay” at best. I felt like perhaps she wasn’t satisfied with the answer, feeling like I was holding back but ultimately, I didn’t think she’d have resonated with the full answer. “It’s a play on the Toys’r’us logo. Pars mean insult basically” I added. Once again, I refrained from adding Westwood’s specific example of parring; she wouldn’t have benefitted from such an image. I left the shop wondering if she would ever stumble across the Next Hype music video and think “I’ve seen that T shirt!”. In fact, I wonder if they’ve got a white board in their staff room similar to the one in Westwood’s Office with their par count next to their names. “Linda | 34 Pars”. Either way she was ‘today years old’ when she came across one of Grime’s best bootleg T’s.

NBA Leather Tour: Earl Sweatshirt and Action Bronson
I have finally seen Earl Sweatshirt live. It was a long time coming. He had a show up in London back in June 2013 that I will always regret not going to. His warmup act that travelled the road with him that year was none other than the New York Trio, Ratking. The trio ended up breaking up around a year later, so I squandered one of the only chances I had of seeing them live. Am I still angry about it till this day, quite possibly.
Earl’s set definitely lived up to my expectation but didn’t surpass it. It was only about thirty to forty minutes long unfortunately, so I was definitely left wanting more. I suppose that’s what all good salesmen do though, but Earl isn’t a salesman and this wasn’t some form of marketing event 101. I was at a gig that I paid a fairly hefty price for to see my favourite artist perform. I managed to get some cool snaps through the Cybershot once again which is always a plus. However, not being right underneath Mr Sweatshirt’s nose meant that the pictures that I did get lacked the juiciness I was after. You can’t always win though (some occasional wins would be preferable though). In terms of his set, I found myself enjoying most tracks but a lot of them I didn’t even know all that well. Luckily, I could relate to his impeccable choice of instrumentals which had the crowd swaying from side to side. Sadly, as his last track Fire in the Hole played, a fight broke out in front of me creating some sort of commotion that brought me out of the performance. Some people are just selfish. A track so tame and laid back that surely should have prevented any sort of violence from breaking out but alas, two men clearly lacking in emotional development jostled each other to the floor, taking a piece of enjoyment out of everyone’s night who were unlucky enough to be stood around them. I’m not bitter though …
Interestingly enough, Earl finished off by playing Future’s LOVE YOU BETTER from his latest album. Earl was the one to put me onto Future back in 2014. I was listening of his longer interviews when he was asked which artist’s he was listening to when he mentioned Future’s now classic Monster Mixtape. To this day both Throw Away and Codeine Crazy never fail to gauge some sort of emotion out of me. His stage presence was everything I had expected. I kept thinking about how I was watching one of the greatest wordsmiths on earth. His mastery of words is one that runs through his blood and is so evident within the music he creates.
Action Bronson then came on with The Alchemist to do their thing and they were very entertaining. They played the electric guitar song which was fun. Alchemist showed off his unquestionably great selection of instrumentals which had the crowd grooving and moving throughout the entirety of the set. Overall, I would give this gig an overall 7.4/10. I could have done with seeing Lord Apex’s set but as I said beforehand; you win some, you lose some.







May Poetry: Emerald green Eyes
Ecstatic, an emerald green, shone so bright, but your vision remained unimpaired. A soft white noise echoed in the dark so unheard that desperate for some recognition, decided to do the most monstrous things. A creature still and breathing eyes fixed on a spot behind so looking through you, it ignored all the pain and red flesh that bridged the gap between it and its target. A smile crawled up onto your face unworried by the danger ahead. Too many scars had left you numb to the lifeless eyes that had looked through you all your life.
Koyaanisqatsi : Life Out of Balance
I really didn’t know what to expect when I queued Francis Ford Coppola’s Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance last Sunday evening. About ten minutes in I thought, “guess we’re in for a 2001: A Space Odyssey type of intro”, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Thirty minutes later and the held, visual shots that coincided with the music kept going. At that point, I assumed this was it in terms of its narrative. I was right. Whilst at first I was a bit annoyed, wanting to watch a film with more let alone any dialogue, seemed like a small ask. Especially when I was trying to eat my Sunday Lunch leftovers (the roast potatoes were great thanks for asking). At around the thirty-five-minute mark I was left at a crossroads. Do I turn this off and opt for something less involved? I only spent a pound on the two DVD collection from the charity shop so all-in-all it wasn’t too much of a loss. However, Francis Ford Coppola was a household name and any future conversation involving him could have been jeopardised by the fact that I gave up on one of his films less than halfway through. Weighing my options, I decided to persist. In hindsight I made the right decision. Whilst the film can come across as pretentious, this will only occur if you do not surrender yourself to it. I went in extremely blind having briefly read the blurb on the back of the case when I first purchased it but had since forgotten the premise. I truly did not know what to expect. The first of the collection was called “Life Out of Balance”. A fitting title.

I recently finished Yvonne Chouinard’s Let My People Go Surfing which I quite enjoyed in a shockingly, interesting way. I feel like the film could go hand-in-hand with this book. I can imagine the author and owner of Patagonia reading excerpts of his book along to this film and it would work marvellously. I feel like the film began to influence me once I decided to surrender myself to it as a work of art, which this film is undoubtably so. To call this anything other than art would not do it justice.
Once the human built and City scape elements of the film came in, that is when I started to become transfixed with what I was watching. The city shots reminded me of the ones used in the original Bladerunner (1969). Thanks to Corridor Digital’s great behind the scenes look into the film making process, I was aware that those shots were achieved using miniatures and model-sized lights blinking away. This made me think of the way cities are designed and inspired more so by circuitry rather than nature. You could easily have mistaken several held shots of a city for a motherboard. One moment I loved was of a glass windowed building from ground level that reflected the blue sky above. At first I thought, “what a great image”. Yet it was only seconds later that I realised that it is not the building that is beautiful, but the sky itself. Buildings will never achieve the ability to mesmerise like nature does, the best it can do is mimic the natural beauty surrounding it.

The last few months I also have understood how much processed foods we as people consume. After recently having the chance to experience being close to nature, eating organic food and soaking in the power of the sun, I appreciate this film’s message a lot more. The numerous shots of factory-made goods were just another reminder of how detached we are from the food chain process. This film came out in the 80s which was a decade that saw leaps and bounds in the consumption of electronic items. It was also the decade in which we started to become aware of the effect humans were having on the planet. The News was covered with the idea of having a hole in the Ozone Layer, caused greatly by chemicals used in beauty products at the time.

My favourite shot in the entire film was right of the end. I had spent the last 20 minutes being almost hypnotised by the sped-up shots and score. I was yanked out of this trance when I thought I was watching Interstellar, an absolute favourite of mine. I have no doubt that Nolan has watched this and taken huge inspiration from this portion. In fact, Koyaanisqatsi itself deals with a deteriorating world that is implied if we do not change our course. The last minute or so, we see the remains of an exploded Space Rocket spin violently back to Earth. In this instance it is slowed down so we can see it spinning, flames lashing out of it. Similar to the floating plastic bag scene from American Beauty, it was arresting. I watched the flames roar and then tame themselves, switching between the two every few seconds. “Was this a looped shot” I began to wonder, almost forgetting that this object was hurtling towards earth. I was so entrapped. This last image was one that really summed up the films message. Whilst alluring, this fiery mess was racing towards its destruction.

I look forward to seeing the second film, Powaqqatsi: Life in Transformation. If there is anything that could convince me that we are living in a simulation it is this, so let’s hope the next one has a slightly more positive outlook!
May Poetry: A touch of Sea Water
She dived into the water not knowing what lay below, but the fun was in not knowing; the unexpected. So much of her life had been planned. Meticulous. That’s how she would describe her childhood, which was sad. She chased chaos, almost threw herself at it. She knew why, which made the act less crazy. Or so she had convinced herself. Emerged in the deep blue she was safe again, something she had unfortunately had to learn on her own. Her parents were never absent, yet at the same time they weren’t exactly present. Floating there her eyes shut waiting for some form of contact. A nibble from a fish Or the brushing past of a shark. Maybe the Sea wasn’t the right place to look for embrace.
A Weekend in Bristol
All images taken on the Sony Ericsson Cybershot (2007)














It had been over two years since I had stepped back in Bristol so a return was long overdue. Meeting friends from Uni like nothing had changed. The Pizza at Pizzarova was still incredible, the nights out on Park Street were still questionable and the bus services still ran like clockwork. Deciding to go last minute, I arrived at Temple Meads quite late. The FA cup final was on so Pubs were full to the Brim with lads holding a pint by their stomach. I had forgotten the frequency of Hareem pants dashing about the place and the presence of the West Country accent that had previously faded into the background. I picked up a bottle of wine for the evening which turned out to be suprisingly good. Having forgotten about the extortionate entry fees at Lola Lo’s, an establishment I no longer frequent, given the choice is up to me but alas we eneded up at club that was playing regaetton music. Later on that night we found ourselves in The Woods. Now I don’t mean an area with a dense population of trees, yet a pub on a side street full of the strange lurkers of the night. However you could hardly be suprised given the fact that it was past 4:30am and all the civilised people were tucked up in bed by this point. I sat there on a bar stool drinking a glass of water listening to the DJ blast out Drum and Bass father at 5am … “I should be asleep” is all I thought, taking another sip of tepid tap water. We eventually got back at 7am where I hit the sofa and immidiately focused on getting some low-quality alcohol fuelled sleep.
A great time in Bristol which made it seem like I had never left. Next time perhaps a sit down by Harbourside with some apple juice might do the trick instead.
May Poetry: what does love sound like?
What does love sound like? He asked Recalling a series of smiles and intense eye contact that would often beckon back and forth between the two. They’d sit there for hours letting the shadow move across the raggedy carpet that clearly needing changing but was clinging on for dear life. So often love didn’t Sound like anything. Perhaps the gentle breeze or the distant conversations from passers-by as they rested their heads on each others shoulders. A comfortable silence, One which allowed them to observe the world together without saying a word. It was a chance to let their Mouths rest Whilst their bodies constantly communicated feelings of that were too complicated to describe, those feelings would hang there, suspended like drawings in an art gallery conveying so much in the confined space of the frame. As they sat there taking in the view of the city they were, for a moment or two belonging to the beautiful landscape themselves. If only someone had recognised the painting they were living out, things may have stayed the same.
April Poetry: The Lady And The Robin
We wonder.
Wondered.
Into the abyss,
short sighted about the potential future
off behind that shrub.
The one that the squirrel just hurried into.
Chewing that strawberry that he’d been given by that kind lady
with the polka dot skirt,
that was long enough to establish her as a woman past her prime.
Yet how is it that she’s the happiest she’s ever been now.
Smiling more than ever before,
with the few years left that no longer held such a weight over
her thoughts.
She was finally able to walk the park she used to as a child
with the same careless attitude,
where she could feed the local wildlife fruit that she had brought with her.
She took another out of her bag.
A robin twisted his head sideways in order to see what
fruit she was now brandishing.
He could tell she was friendly human,
simply by her hand,
and that she’d had a pet in her life,
probably a dog by the looks of the wear
to her right hand.
And that she used to cry a lot.
Maybe it’s because she had just lost a loved one,
but he wasn’t 100% sure on that one.
Needless to stay
she was friendly,
even if she was hurt.
Although the beckoning smile on her face said otherwise.
He swooped down onto her hand,
twitching his head
left, right
up and down,
trying to get a better look how to of approach the grape.
It’d been months since he’d had a grape.
For some reason they were few and far between
in this part of the world.
Pecking at the fruit,
the inside flesh finally showed.
Juicy and happy
The bird tilted his head back yet again
gulping down the sweet clumps
of grape.
He was a pleased Robin.
And she was pleased that he was pleased.
‘How I wish you could see this’,
she wondered to herself.
Yet he could,
he’s the one writing this.
April Poetry: That forgetful Memory
A water droplet so shallow, but deep like a ravine, echoes dance across a shore like the future daughter you never had. Promises of a smile as you look down at that curious and gentle creature you built, gone. In an instant. These few words had ripped across time her heart divided by a few moments of movement on your lips. A dance that normally had her awaiting your every word but only causes hurt now. A dance no longer wanted. A dance no longer cared for. A dance no longer needed. A trio all full of hugs felt by each other. A strong circle of those you will devote the rest of your time to. These three would hold hands and return home to the feeling of love. A happy home that although square, felt like a bubble. Something encapsulating and protective but ever so vulnerable. All it’d take is for something sharp for it to pop. Some sharp words perhaps? I know I’d rather not be the one to find out. Keep that thought, that memory burnt in the back of your mind So every time you think of forgetting, simply peer into the ashes in the back of your head.