Mario's Cafe

Many of you will know Roland Denning as the hugely talented author of The Beach Beneath The Pavement, and many will also know him as the director of the wonderful animation series On meeting An Agent.

Now Roland has made a wonderful live action film, Mario's Cafe, which is premiering this Thursday. Yes, I know that's the same night as a certain other event, but it would be rather peevish of me not to offer people the choice. I only wish I could go along, but I know taht it will be a wonderful night, at The Oxford Arms, 256 Kentish Town Road, with doors opening at 6.30 for screenings at 7 and 9.

Free-e-day live

Free-e-day live was the real-life gig to tie in with Free-e-day, the global online celebraion of internet culture that I dreamt up on the bus one afternoon and ended up attracting 100 participants all offering amazing creative things for free, and giving us workshops and webchats with invaluable resources for anyone outside the mainstream. It has been all a bit of a wonderful haze.

Free-e-day live was put together by local singer-songwriter Nikki Loy (pictured) who, being an illustrator as well as musician, embraced the multi-arts idea behind the festival. Held at Oxford's Cafe Tarifa, the night featured an art ecxhibition, belly dancers dressed as skeletons, music and reading. It was a fantastic night with a fantastic crowd. Let me bore you with a LITTLE about what makes a live, indie occasion like this great.

First off there's the hyper-contrived shot for the local rag (who thought, for some reason, that we were giving away electronic gadgets and wanted Nikki and I to hold up some mobile phobnes for the photoshoot!). next there's the inevitable when you invite people from London. As the 8 o'clock kick-off approached, 2 writers and the headline band remained, as so many before them, and so many, I dare say, to come, stranded on the M40. Never have I been so pleased (I'm always pleased to see him, but I can't remember physically bear-hugging him before) to see Roland (pictured left), who gave us a brilliant rendition of Chapter 17 of The Beach Beneath the Pavement. Hearing his words somehow made them even funnier than they had been on the page, a reminder that stories - whatever your age and their genre - are best read aloud.

Setting the reader-musician rhythm we were next treated to a rather endearing keyboard and vocals set from the big-voiced Mol Hodge. "Most of my songs are a bit morbid" she told us nervously. "Bloody hell, if you think that's morbid just wait for SKIN BOOK" I thought. Mol has a great voice, and plenty of time on her side, and as she explores the melodic range of her music over the years to come is sure to be someone we see more of.

Nikesh Shukla is someone the world has already seen plenty of. With a string of TV and radio credits, festival appearances, awards and the like, he is far the most advanced and successful of any of ourt artists on the night, and we were hideous lucky to snag him - not only that he doled out copies of his kidologies CD to grateful audience members. Having introduced Nikesh as a poet he proceeded to read us a short story, but the performance element of Rap Tracks - a hilarious tale of pre-teen rap, Asian grandmothers and Gujurati dialect - was the match of anything slam poetry can offer. More confirmation that anyone who says writers can't engage an audience with prose is talking nonsense.

I met Nikki Loy, who came on as Nikesh departed back for the next of 20 gigs in 32 days, when she was busking on Oxford's St Giles. I was so taken with her guitar and vocals I snaffled a card and dropped her an e-mail, and I've been impressed with her ebergy, verve, and all-round artistic enthusiasm ever since. This was the first time I've seen her live, and I was impressed by the way she handles a crowd and the way she handles a guitar. She too had freebie CDs that were gobbled up gladly.

In the interval, Nikki came up to me and said "can you hold this?" pointing to a UV tube. "Er, OK" I said rather confusedly, until I saw what was coming next, a train of skeletons snaking to the stage who proceeded to shake their fluorescent booty to music I was too gobsmacked to notice much but think may have been some scuzzy Goldfrapp.

The Scary Skele-belly Dancers gave me the perfect segue into the world premiere of the whole of SKIN BOOK - you know "those were th bones, now for some skin" - ah the joys of improv! Won't say much about me (below). That would be rude. Suffice to say my opinion remains unchanged - performing to a live audience is THE best thing a writer can do - feeling attentive eyes, listening to the gasps the sighs - that kind of engagement is what writing is all about. I THINK people enjoyed it - if enjoy is the right word for a story about a woman whose diary is made from skin she harvested from her twin bro.

The headline act seemed to enjoy it, though, which was nice. The Joker and The Thief describe themselves as a folk blues combo which had me worried before the show. I dislike folk so much I wouldn't hand a picture of Fleet Foxes to my dartboard because it would be unfair to the bristles. But The Joker and the Thief were an unexpected delight. Full of energy (proper energy - the kind you actually believe might just come from some kind of dark passionate place rather than the gurning wurzelly cheeriness of much folk), they delivered a set that was variegated and exciting. They have a penchant for playing around with different instruments, whcih added colour to the set - from frontman Dan (sounds like an epithet from Total Wipeouut) banging the cymbals with an assortment of bells and sticks, to Josh's alternation of ukelele, sax and accordian (far my favourite - I could almost feel myself on the set of Amelie).

A pretty much perfect night was rounded off when two of the skele-bellies came back dressed in burlesque and the crowd dispersed happily into the night.

There seem to be some obvious lessons from a night like this. Everyone would do well to bear them in mind:

1. There is a ridiculous wealth of talent outside the mainstream.

2. The creative world is full of almost boundless energy, enthusiasm, and can-do attitude.

3. Writers are every bit as engaging as musicians.

Here's hoping this is the first of very many such nights I get the pleasure of being involved in. A HUGE thanks to all who contributed, to Cafe Tarifa for being such great hosts, and most of all to Nikki for making it happen.

A full list of artists who contributed to the exhibition:

Cheryl Pearce – Poet
cherylpearce@yahoo.com

Will Mankelow – Photographer
RocketoPhotography@yahoo.com

Sandra Farrow – Photographer
http://www.farrowphotography.co.uk/

Nikki Loy – Illustrator
nikkiloy@yahoo.co.uk

James Whayman
– Photographer
http://www.unformedmind.com/

Sarah Kennedy – Artist
email: acrylicartist@gmail.com
http://www.sarahkennedyart.com/

Year Zero Writers and Rob Lennox - artist: http://www.yearzerowriters.wordpress.com/

The View From the Shoe: Roland Denning

I "met" Roland well over a year ago on the writers' site Youwriteon. Since then I have met him for real. Twice. He's not only the hugely talented author of The Beach Beneath the Pavement, but not a little creative with the camera. Which is one reason I wanted to speak to him. You must. must. must watch his films - oh, and read the book.

So, in his own words:

The Beach Beneath The Pavement, ‘a satirical novel of conspiracy and paranoia in London’s dark corners’ came out earlier this year under the auspices of Type Of Thing press, coincidentally the imprint of the author, Roland Denning. A brief and unsuccessful flurry of activity with a literary agent earlier this year impelled Roland to author a series of short animation films featuring a robot called Roland and his dealings with the world of publishing. Roland the Robot bears no relation to the character of Roland the author, so it was probably a poor choice of name. These films are, quite possibly, much better than the book.

http://www.beachbeneathpavement.co.uk/Site_2/On_Meeting_An_Agent.html

Thank you for inviting me into the Year Zero for this interview, Dan. Also particularly nice that you sent a car for me. Been even better if you had paid the driver, but you can’t have everything.

Thank you so much for your time. So, Louboutin or Converse?
I’ve always favoured a Saint-Emilion if red, a Pouilly-Fuissé if white. Not much time for this New World stuff. Am I being too facetious? Sorry, interviews always make me nervous.

Why is there no one in the world who does it quite like you?
I wrote the formula down in my own hand writing. No one else can read it. Even I have trouble at times.
By the way, there doesn’t seem to be anybody else in the room. Apart from the camera. And the man with the gun. Where are you hiding, Dan?

What do you really, really love about it?
I suppose when I write something that makes people laugh. Actual, spontaneous hearty laughter. You can’t fake that, and you can’t deny it’s happened. That is, as long as it is meant to be funny. (If they do laugh, I always say it was. This has ruined several relationships).

A bit more time in the day, or a bit more money in the bank?
The older I get, the more aware I become that our lives are finite and incredibly short. It seems like only this morning you asked me to do this interview. Oh, it was. Sorry, to answer the question, of course the former. You can always steal money.
By the way, any chance of the bus fare back to Camden?

Imagine you “make it”. You wake up, and imagine the day ahead. Tell us about breakfast.
My breakfast has always been, as long as I can remember, one slice of toast with vintage Oxford marmalade, one slice of toast with Marmite. I don’t see why I should change that now I am rich and famous. Maybe it could be served by, or possibly on, beautiful naked young women.

What’s your Jimmy Choo? And what’s just cobblers?
i) A ripe Alphonso mango, some Thai grass, and Trout Mask Replica on a very good sound system.
ii) A Golden Delicious, warm lager and Trout Mask Replica on a broken Dansette. Which is how I heard it first. Some things have got better.

Tell us about the last time a fan made you feel 100 feet tall.
When I had a girlfriend who was only 3 inches high.

Independent and poor, or under contract and rich?
Is this an offer? I think if there’s a contract out on me, money isn’t going to help. Do you know something I don’t know?

Do you remember that bit on Play Away where Brian Cant stood behind people and did the actions whilst they spoke? If you could choose anyone to stand behind you and do the actions to your sales pitch, who would it be and why?
Do you remember in the Golden Voyage of Sinbad, where Sinbad fights the six-armed Kali idol? She would be good, although you might say that’s an unfair advantage.

Frocks or socks?
It would have to be frocks. Standing naked in just your socks you feel so stupid. As I do now. You never told me why I had to undress for this interview.
Can I go now? I don’t like the way the guy with the gun is looking at me.
Have I got the job?