Manchester is shit

Mind On Fire in association with Pinch Ships and Lanterns present:
Little Green - Moth Hi-Fi - Absent Minds @ Mint Lounge
Dj's on the night Some Other Guy and Woli Wols / Tom Cristavao
Visuals from Eman as well as an exhibition of artwork from various Manchester artists.



Mind on Fire is an ever growing collective of Musicians, DJs, Artists and Promoters. They started out in 2004, & are dedicated to promoting a wide range of local acts not getting the exposure they deserved.

Mind on Fire nights are about people being able to express themselves creatively in a supportive and positive atmosphere whilst getting their music out to crowds. Through the collective many collaborations have begun to take place and we are constantly providing a platform for other kinds of artists to showcase their work.

www.mindonfire.co.uk for any updates

Here's Segun Le French, spoken word artist extraordinaire (Speakeasy, Apples & Snakes), performing at the Verberate Refugee Poets Night on Monday. Behind him, HoodlumTribe dj Matt Dobson.

solb,whon2

solb,dima,sense

common is the place to be this weekend and next for 'dot the eyes'. two weeks of painting and illustration by some of europes best. (they all have SICK websites too, so check them out!)

week 1:
1st and 2nd april

Dist.One
Elph
Showchicken
Guy McKinley

week 2:
8th and 9th april

Matt Sewell
Ruse
Richt
via via

lots more info about all the artists and the event here:

http://www.dottheeyes.co.uk/

Meh. Get with it. Its no longer r33t to simply sms in un-noun speak.

{...This is post-1984 ffs...}

Your 3hole life should embrace 1t. If you don't have a second life to escape to then you're the nobody. Monophrenic one lifers. Even science men say the best play MMORGS. So I'm pleased cause now I can go insp1re on your cars and walls with OMG sticky g33k acroynms. Country style.

[[[Dunno what they're saying? Then go buy a game n00ber. * / * / * ]]]

WEB BULLETIN - 3:20AM
GET YOUR COAT BACK ON.. and go to a small culdesac off Hadfield Street, Chester Rd, off the end of Deansgate, take first set of traffic lights, a sharp right hand turn into an industrial estate, immediate left hand turn, the venue has red gating & lots of people raving!!! go enjoy.

LATEST NEWS - 1:48 AM
Okay people, some things happen and somethings don't. This is one of those times. The fates have conspired, get ready to do your own thing, coz my dears the Rave ain't happening!!

NEWSFLASH - GET IN A BAR ON DEANSGATE LOCKS!! IT SOUNDS LIKE ITS GOING TO BE NOT FAR OFF IN ONE OF THE INDUSTRIAL UNITS.

OKAY SO HERE IS THE NUMBER YOU NEED AND DIRECTIONS WILL BE LEFT ON AN ANSWER PHONE MESSAGE AFTER 9-10PM.

PARTY LINE 07005 978430

Remember where you heard it first!! See you there!

Where does this go?


It goes down here

I'm not trying to start any arguments here. Just stating a simple fact for the record. You all know what this website's called.

Heres a breathe of fresh air for the manchester art scene. None of the usual suspects to be seen. Instead, the legendary NY street artist and illustrator, Dalek is opening a solo show at the Richard Goodall gallery

Preview night: 23rd March 6-8pm
Show runs: 24th March - 29th April

A site specific show by Sao Paulo Street Artist Stephan Doitschinoff

It snakes along the southern fringe of Manchester city centre, carrying thousands of vehicles every day. It was completed in 1967, extended in 1992, has a quintessentially Manchester name chosen by a member of the public, and like much of the rest of Manchester, it's grey, grimy and flawed but interesting: It's the Mancunian Way, once dubbed Manchester's 'Highway in the Sky'.

The pedestrian underpass under Brook St beneath the Mancunian Way is strewn with rubbish and broken bottles and is covered in graffiti. This location is just two minutes walk from the BBC and forms part of the pedestrian links between the north and south campuses of the unified Manchester University.

Not to be bitter, but I'm a male, yes, with all the dangles, bangles and gangles that go with it, and while my hormones might predispose me to certain impulses, certain eye migrations when females pass, bend toward me, bend away, to a certain occasional alpha arrogance, my sex does not, does not, does not guarantee me with any innate technical ability. My testes do not endow me with any form of mechanical intuition, technological prowess or general talent at making things work. I'm a clumsy fucker, a butter-fingers, always have been. I barely passed 'Electronics Class' in high school, never failing to fry my resistors. I know nothing of wires, plugs and sockets. I suck at all things electronic. So why did the females ring me last minute to get me to come out to the basement to set up the P.A., tear it down, and play CDs throughout, for the Women's Day Poetry Night.

I have never dj-ed in my life. Never, unless you count burning a mix CD for my birthday party at the Green Room last year. I've never had the inclination to DJ, never even flipped the switch on a turntable set. I don't have the equipment for this sort of thing, not even a CD player - only my cheap Dell laptop.

Nor do I own the appropriate pro-woman album collection. They wanted PJ Harvey, Joni Mitchell, Nina Simone.

Right now the female vocalists in my possession are, exhaustively:

Sons & Daughters (unplayable because the Sons comes before Daughters, and that's male oppression)

Big Mama Thornton (not 'funky' enough, they said)

Magneta Lane (only an EP, so not long enough for the evening)

Petra Hayden (she's covering The Who, so that's also enforcing the subservient role of women)

Nancy Sinatra (... 95 % all her songs are about getting screwed over by men or shot by men, which isn't empowering)

Afrirampo (obscure Japanese noise ... nuff said)

It was hardly what they were looking for. They said they'd bring their own CDs, reducing me from disc jockey to disc loader and Winamp operator.

The performers that night were exclusively female. Seeing as I was nearly complete in my incompetence, why not just go all the way and recruit an equally inexperienced woman to run the music? Why not make the event absolutely, 100 percent independent?

I got my answer a few minutes later when the first performer thus introduced herself: 'I'm not a lesbian, I just hate men.'

Of course, it was a joke (she was indeed, without a doubt, a lesbian). No offence was intended. But this man-slave, who skipped dinner to help out, grumpy and tired, wasn't amused.

I'm at a loss to find a suitable comparison to illustrate the remark's tastelessness. The closest thing I can come up with is: 'I hate girls but I'm not gay,' which, along with 'I make whoopee like a Jedi,' were the two mottos of my pals' punk rock band Duh Nobuddies in high school. Not much difference I suppose, except Duh Nobuddies were 16 years old. The women were adults.

Her first poem of the night was a reversal of the fateful apple of Eden, blaming original sin on Adam. The poem was all right, if not a bit obvious (yes, yes, we men all have lumps in our throats, and they're called Adam's Apples). Through it I realized what my role actually was.

I was the designated male scapegoat. Sound goes wrong, blame it on the incompetent DJ. Sound goes right, more applause for the strong female organizers.

In the end, it was hitchless. The hosts thanked me aloud at the end, but referred to me as 'Superdog.'

I hate women.

South Manchester's most colourful cycle path.
Look for the following signs:

*****ILLITERATE & ILLIGTIMATE FINDINGS No. 1*****

Why didn't you all take my valentines advice and write lovely messages on your grim towns. Shame on you. On your rug. My eyes bled when I saw "Sarah P loves cok" but I guess you illiterates and illegitimates were bred to miss the point. If you wanna play with toilet writings go to Sheffield or summin. There are some classics like "I Eat Food" and this music tinged Scot wall-blah. But like Poland, you were occupied with other things for too long to make an effort.

Thinking about it, neither did I see anyone painting the town with lights, like I told you in my blog. Isn't the internet supposed to revolutionise communication in such a way that I can say jump and the world says "for my love" in a beautifully synchronised Pointer Sisters pastiche? So here's one last idea for you, and don't fuck it up. It comes from the brilliant and innovative street vandals Wooster Collective. The idea is so simple I can't believe my lazy laconic mind didn't come up with it... make a massive giraffe. DO IT!- to begin your new quest click here.