Madame Butterfly

Peering through the butterfly framed window, a sex swing hangs nonchalantly.

Samurai swords hang from meat hooks overhead; the sex swing is all leather and chains.

These props are playfully at odds with their womb-like surroundings.

A warm pinkish hue lights the set, familiar symbols of suburbia and childhood, the white-picket fence and the Wendy house, frame the scene while a girl-on-girl porno flickers in the corner of your eye.

The set is full of aesthetic conflicts and playing with established societal myths is a trait that permeates the piece performed in this space.

This year, the inconspicuous Crane Lane in Temple Bar hosts one the Fringe’s most intriguing acts, as Aideen McDonald debuts her show Madame Butterfly.

The set is a site of contradictions in many ways.

McDonald says, “It is the womb of the show. It glows and pulsates. It’s like a crazy little nursery that sprang out of a Japanese jack-in-the-box. As a whole it has the feel of a magical, heightened, in every sense of the word, playpen.”

Yet at the same time, the set is a highly sexualised environment.

“The set is both a contemporary red light district window in full, if slightly skewed, swing and a take on an imagined, contemporary Geisha’s private salon,” she says.

To the fore, Madame Butterfly, as a prostitute in the window, has two personas (the flyers for the show advertise them separately), the virgin and the whore.

For all intents and purposes they are very similar to the eye, they both wear dildos, or dongs, to the initiated, one only slightly less intimidating than the other.

“The penis is a power symbol. The dongs speak to issues of gender construction and power relations,” McDonald elaborates.

It is in the background, the private salon space that Madame Butterfly invites you, on a one-on-one basis, to engage in a performance that will stimulate your ‘visual, oral and aural’ senses.

Men, if you’re thinking “I’d like to be stimulated visually, orally and aurally”, don’t get too excited: there is a catch — these tickets are for women only.

McDonald, who also works in the applied arts field, defends the move as she considers “working with single identity groups, in this case women, to be a productive means of addressing societal issues with a clear focus.”

‘Women only’ is also a comment on the context of the show.

“The less transparent establishments on this lane, the Boilerhouse sauna and the Emporium lapdancing club have been set up for the sensual enjoyed of men.”

Madame Butterfly only services women, engaging her female clients with a view to provoking self-analysis around issues of identity and intimacy.

“The process offers up a little sensual enjoyment for good measure”, McDonald assures.

She also adds, “I want to engage with women from across a broad section of society who work with or live with, issues directly affecting women. My hope is that the experience will be thought provoking through arousing all the senses.”

The show aims to raise questions. How do we feel about ourselves? What is our role in society? To what extent do we create our identity? What of femaleness? What of maleness?

But McDonald acknowledges, “Just as there are no new themes, there are no new questions. I don’t have the answers, only an active interest in the issues. These are questions I believe it is important for women to be asking themselves and each other.”

Pedestrian voyeurs will encounter and undoubtedly be engaged by the red light district act, the virgin and the whore in the window, “with a twist”.

Admittance is limited so individual “guests” willing to remove their shoes, enter the scene and enjoy Geishaesque acts of hospitality must book a ticket quickly.

Only the brave, the lucky and the fairer of the sexes will get to experience the full Madame Butterfly experience.

* Published in Issue 11 of Oh! Fringe, September 2009

http://www.ohfrancis.com/Web_Issue_11.pdf

What Style Means to Me

Twirling around watching the tiered ruffles rise and fall with the movement, I should’ve known then. This was the beginning of a serious love affair.

It was my First Holy Communion. I was six. And like so many landmark events, it was all about the dress.

I had a knee-length frilly tiered lace one, accessorised with fresh flowers in my hair. Natch.

Fast forward almost twenty years and open the doors of my wardrobe and behold: rails of garish ra-ra mini skirts, dresses and tops held together by delicate lace and the frilliest of frilliest French knickers.

The ties are clear. A tomboy through and through, this dress was the catalyst for a different side of me to emerge. A side expressed through style. Albeit, at this time, only at very special occasions.

Today, every time I wear a dress or skirt, my mother sighs with a defeated sadness, “And you’d never wear them for me…”

On an everyday basis, I was a jeans, t-shirt and trainers girl. A girl who rejected all the pretty dresses she was given, the dresses she now wishes she had in adult sizes.

There was the black velvet one with the round collar and red ribbon tied in a bow. There was the blue floral tulip dress and the ultimate! A ruched navy cord mini with a white blouse tucked in, topped off with a navy beret.

If I could time travel and wear these outfits every day, I would. But failing this, I relive the fabrics, textures and colours in my adult wardrobe.

As a tomboy in childhood and teenage years, jeans and t-shirts won out. Throughout teenage wilderness, like everyone, a personal style began to develop as a means of sharing my identity with the world.

Cue band t-shirts that screamed: “Hey look at me! I like this band. I got it at their gig. Do you like this band? Do you think they’re cool? Do you think I’m cool?”

A teenage diary reveals in the most cringeworthy manner, titled and swirled with glitter, a ‘1999 Style File’, which listed the fashion items of my desire - complete with magazine cuttings.

Objects of desire included: anything by Coca Cola ware, anything Paul Frank or Hello Kitty branded, stripy socks, tartan, band patches and band badges.

Embarrasing? Yes. Mostly. But saying that, my love of tartan lives on. A love lived vicariously through D&G’s autumn/winter 08 family of tartan campaign and perennially in Vivienne Westwood’s collections.

These days my wardrobe has plenty of space to accommodate new things, following ‘The Great Wardrobe Cull of 2009’.

The cull was a sort of cleansing event that happened this summer. After leaving college I decided that it was time to weed out the laddered tights, the tight band t-shirts and baggy skater jeans of my youth.

According to ‘the rules’ espoused by all fashion editors, anything that hadn’t been worn in two years was ruthlessly put in a black bag for the charity shop, ready to be loved again.

Like so many love affairs, it wasn’t that I stopped loving them; just we’d grown apart over the years.

It was a painful experience, but necessary for the long term.

An obsessive mental listing had begun in my head of the key items that it seems are absolutely necessary to function in society.

Firstly, two designer blazers (one navy, one black) were acquired from charity shop rummaging; a good white shirt was enlisted alongside high waisted skirts, plain t-shirts, converse trainers, gladiators, classic green Hunters, a cashmere cardi, a Breton top, Wolford tights, skinny jeans and city shorts.

A pretty safe bunch I admit, but a penchant for the silly and travel helps to inject some personality.

Chavvy dress jewellery, detachable bows that surface everywhere – Hair! Dresses! Collars!, old lady earrings, outrageous nail polish colours and chunky bracelets add a personal touch to the reliable staples.

Items found whilst travelling carry extra value, for their rarity and also for the pomp of saying, “Oh this old thing? I picked it up in Ibiza’s hippie market/Marrakesh/SoHo (delete where applicable) last month.” So very smug.

These little one-offs highlight the simple truth that style is inherently personal.

Clothes are beyond function, they signify something about us to the world. It is how people choose to channel these signs through personal style that sparks my interest.

I love people watching in all social settings, the variety in the way people present themselves through posture, clothes, make-up and hair never ceases to fascinate me.

I live this voyeurism virtually through beautiful style blogs like Garance Doré and Liebe Marlene, escapist magazines, and through the influx of TV shows and films that seem to centre specifically on fashion. Gossip Girl is my ‘clothes porn’ du jour.

Growing up, style was a means of forging a sense of identity, but mid-twenties (and somewhat grown-up) the meaning of style has changed.

As responsibilities gather, style seems to becoming more fun. In your twenties, you have the confidence to take a few risks, with good and bad results - harem pants anyone?

Mostly the meaning of style for me, correlates to memories. The dress I wore to my sister’s wedding, the heels I tripped up on at my graduation, the dresses from my childhood are all snapshots of the past and some just can’t be parted with.

Ok, so I admit I wasn’t completely ruthless… I still sleep in a faded Metallica t-shirt. So sue me.

Alice Stands

Who the fuck is Alice, you ask? Alice Stands hails from Roscommon town and creates high-heeled electro pop for people who like to dance. Admittedly, it’s an unusual combination. Citing her influences as 90s dance tunes, rave and Sonic Youth, Alice speaks with Connected before she scampers off to San Francisco in the fall (as her new homeland might say).

How would you describe your sound?

If I had to pin it down I’d say acid pop – but that’s open to interpretation. I love dance music, I’m interested in taking the classical traits of a pop song – catchy riffs and simple lyrics – and combining them with a more sculpted sonic edge.

How important is style and image to you as a performer?

I think style and image is an extension of personality, which is very important as a performer. It’s another way to express oneself.

Are your stage outfits any different to your civilian clothes?

I don’t have costumes, though I’d very much like to with time! I dress up on stage; I love shoes, particularly stiletto heels.

Have you any recording plans?

I’m writing and producing songs in between gigs, expanding my live set all the time. I’m getting ‘The Game’ professionally mixed by Ger McDonnell, who has worked with Def Leppard, Manic Street Preachers and Martha Wainwright.

What kinds of synths do you use?

At the moment I use soft synths with a midi controller. I love vintage synths and there’s nothing I’d love to collect more when I have the time, space, money and roadies to carry them!

Your sound isn't very "Irish". Have you spent any time abroad?

From talking to people, there’s a very vibrant music scene all around Ireland. I’ve experienced Dublin first-hand where there’s a diverse music scene and lots going on. There are great opportunities for bands and DJs to play every night of the week. Independent festivals are cropping up more and more. Growing up, Knockcroghery in Roscommon had its own version of Woodstock called ‘Knockcroghstock’ – that wasn’t very “Irish” but it was a lot of fun and very colourful. Those two elements are very important to me when writing music. I have lived abroad. I lived in New York on a J1 one summer of college. I would be influenced by the New York music scene. There’s a certain edge, an attitude, a frankness that captivated me growing up. My music would be influenced in that way.

Describe a live Alice Stands show.

The show is constantly changing. I’m solo at the moment, where I play synth live, trigger drum beats and samples and sing with treated vocals. I’ve had guest vocalists join me and I’m very interested in collaborating with musicians, artists, dancers and DJs. I’m building up towards a theatrical performance, influenced by cabaret, dance and the circus – an ‘Alice Stands Tea Party’. I’m very interested in dance music, but feel where a lot of dance music lacks is the visual appeal of the performance. There’s nothing more electric than seeing live musicians on stage playing off each other and this is what I’m working towards.

How does your song writing process go?

An idea comes to me in some way, I start singing lyrics off the top of my head or a musical riff. Other times I could be practicing the piano on a song and get bored and start playing around with chords and land on something I really like. Different synth sounds inspire me – I might write a riff because I love the sound. After that, it’s trying to get as many ideas down as possible and arranging it as best as I can. Then leaving it for a while and coming back to it with no expectations.

Thoughts on Lady Gaga?

I think she’s a really interesting character. Growing up in New York and experimenting in the Downtown music scene there has to be something worth sharing in that. It would be amazing to tour with her sometime!

Alice Stands has a weekly residence in Eamonn Doran's on Wednesdays and is playing Upstairs in Whelans on 15 August with Heathers and Hooray for Humans.

www.myspace.com/alicestands

The Shed, interview with Eli McBett

The use of the words ‘spaces’ and ‘collectives’ amongst Dublinese creative types seems to be rising by the day. No longer is it acceptable to just get off your tits and have a dance on a night out, it is now part of the course to engage in some kitsch organised fun in the process.

But The Shed on Henrietta Lane is once ‘space’ that sticks to what it knows: art. Since their initial ‘Stranger than Paradise’ call for artists in 2006, The Shed has involved more than 130 artists in around 80 events all with Eli McBett at the helm.

Connected caught up with the founder/producer/artist to learn more... McBett attributes the establishment of The Shed to what she calls “Deformazione Professionale”, that’s chronic professional syndrome to us non-Italian speakers.

“I discovered to be affected by this syndrome many years ago, at the beginning of the 80's, when the urban context I was soaked in Roma, was dull and dry and all the past reference points were lost. Something like the Celtic Tiger was spreading sickness at that time in Italy.”

The globalisation or Americanisation of culture was a particular influence on the syndrome,“A shame for older forms of culture and heritage pervaded people, and developers took inspiration from the worst of American standards. This provoked in sensitive individuals, the positive deep wish to change the world with unique alternatives to collective suicide.” McBett says, “I was young at the time, but this environment was deeply influential in my development.”

The dominance of this syndrome for McBett led her to rejecting traditional academic institutions and “dusty bureaucratic infrastructures” and getting involved in independent cultural centres.

“We did Auto-Productions, producing off site theatre festivals and art activities that offered at the time a different way of expressing vision and perspective for cultural and political operators.”
In 1998, McBett arrived in Ireland and developed her views while working in ordinary jobs and creative projects on the side.

For a series of 14 installations aimed to Kilmainham Gaol, McBett required people participation, “I started teaching in jails, creating workshops with children travellers and in other contexts, and so, I went around interviewing individuals approaching them mostly through the community centres”, she explains.

This led to teaching people in rehab, in institutions and schools, with people with disabilities, teenagers in jail, children travellers, women in jail and people with mental disorders or disabilities.

But McBett is keen to stress that these were not groups, but individuals, “The creation of my art events includes individuals of various backgrounds, but they are all included on the same basis as whatever other collaborator. I adapt my actions to the individual personalities and avoid hierarchies.”

Government funding for these projects is at a minimal. The Shed received just €2,000 by the City Council art grant, which funded the centre for less than one month, and also got some flyers printed. In the past she got founded by the Istituto Italiano di Cultura only, despite being an Irish artist.

McBett says, “All the costs are covered by my personal money, my free non-stop work and other participant donations. I am repaying a personal loan with the bank that will bond me to this project unless some other source of income will help. Now an office team from Italian universities is temporary helping thanks to EU project Leonardo and Erasmus Placement.”

At the time of going to press, McBett is still applying for funding from the Arts Council, as she has every year - for the last decade.

But McBett says, “The real difficulty is finding individuals keen to participate in long term no profit projects. To have some regular supporters from the same audience would facilitate our independence from institutions and the possibility to equip the space and facilitate the artists in presenting their work for free. The more we are independent the less we need to waste time on bureaucracy.”

Irish pub culture is cited as one hindrance to The Shed, “My main hope is to start a proper artist/art-operators resident collective. There are plenty of difficulties in finding individuals so focused and also prepared in experimental performance and installations, such as the local culture and custom which pushes people mostly to socialise and meet in pubs.”

McBett encourages everyone to visit, “Come and introduce yourself, tell me what you usually do, what you would like to do here, and let's bring in whatever you like to exchange with others your creative experience in a once-off night.”

The Shed hosts international residences, monthly events, daytime workshops and classes, and a resident collective. www.mcbett.net

"The music I use is already timeless to me, when you're already using a lot of classic sounds already, another 10 years on top of that isn't very much really. I'm not one for trendy gimmicks. I prefer solid, simple ideas."

Ten years on from his breakthrough album Mr Scruff is still Keeping it Unreal, playing his trademark six hour sets, creating his own distinctive potato head visuals and generally, causing a ruckus. We caught up with the rumoured fish affectionado ahead of this month's Button Factory gig and found no truth behind those Troy McClure-esque rumours. Dang.

You're playing here on the 12th of June, what can Irish fans expect? Will it be a 6 hour set?

Yeah, whenever I play, I always play all night. It’s a lovely venue with pretty decent Guinness, a good sound system and great crowds, so I’ll just build on the last time. I always play a wide range of stuff and I’ve played a few times at the Button Factory and feel very comfortable there. So just have fun and let loose really. The usual Scruff thing ― just lots of different kinds of music and a really good party vibe.

You seem to have a lot of eclectic influences from almost every genre, is there any music you don't like?

Yeah loads! There’s a lot I can’t stand. I don’t like really hard music like Pendulum, drum and bass, trance, really hard house or that kind of thing. I like music with a bit of space and a bit of swing to it, so anything that’s really full on isn’t really my thing. But other than that, my ears are pretty open. I think it’s a bad idea to say I’d never listen to that. I always check things that I don’t like, just to see if there’s been any development or any way for me to get my head round it. But generally, hard aggressive music isn’t my thing, but at the same time I love my bass and very heavy music. But I do like it to have a bit of a swing to it too.

What’s with the sea-life references?

It just came from charity record shopping and that sense of humour. I just happened to have a lot of under water references. There’s no particular obsession with the sea. It just what the charity shops were giving up to me at the time. People seem to think I’ve some obsession with whales and fish but it could’ve been about any subject, it just happened to be about the sea. It was just nice to give a bit of focus to those tracks by making them about a specific subject, rather than having just random daft spoken word. It was a sort of geeky comedy challenge to try make a story about a specific subject of hundreds of snippets from different records.

You've done a lot of musical collaborations, have you ever collaborated on the visuals?

Yeah I have done previously when I did a single with Fingathing. A lot of my videos have been in conjunction with a Manchester company called The Soup. I do enjoy that and it’s good fun. Although my cartoon style is quite limited, in terms of how far it can develop as it’s so simple, we do enjoy trying to push it in different directions and seeing what happens.

Why did you choose the World Development Movement as benefactors of 'Make Us a Brew'?

I work with a lot of different charities, but World Development Movement especially. I’ve been working with them for about 13 years, since they asked me to get involved with a compilation they were doing. Myself and my friend Guy used to DJ at a world music night called One Tree Island back in the 90s, and they asked us to compile a compilation album for them, the proceeds of which went to their charity. So I think the fact they approached me for my music, meant that from very early on we had a great connection. So we’ve just stuck with them really. We have moved the charities around, if we’re travelling and someone asks ― we give the money to a local charity instead. We must have supported 40 or 50 charities over the years, but WDM is the main one. They campaign for awareness for a lot of important issues that are neglected or people don’t know much about. I think it’s really important.

You studied art at Sheffield Hallam, did you come up with your potato head visuals there or was cartooning discouraged?

Those cartoons are a lot older than that. I was in my early teens when I started drawing in that style. When I was 15, I was pretty much drawing as I am now. So it came out a long time before I studied for my degree, and I’m still doing it now. So I just hit on that style and carried on, it’s almost like my handwriting now.

Sheffield is a city pretty renowned for its musical output. Was the scene there an influence on you?

Not really. No more an influence that any other place. A lot of electronic music came from Sheffield like Human League and Cabaret Voltaire and that kind of thing. Then later on the Warp label, which started in 1990, and all their output ― a lot of that crazy electronic music was hugely influential to me. But I think that would’ve had an influence anywhere. I was listening to it before I went to Sheffield. I was never a proper student there, I was working and studying part-time so I didn’t ever live in Sheffield or go out in Sheffield. I never really absorbed any of the cities’ musical culture in a direct way. It was all from records.

You’ve allowed your music to be used in a good bit of advertising. Have you taken any flak for it?

Kind of. ‘Get a Move on’ was in a lot of adverts in the late 90s. I’d probably think twice about doing that these days, now I know what these big companies get up to. I’m not used now in adverts in the last few years. It is used on telly a lot, but I don’t get say in that, like if its used in the background, when you release a record you relinquish that say in what people do with your music Sometimes it gets used in really average situations, but sometimes it’s like ‘Wow, that’s brilliant’. There are really cool people who say you’re a sell out ‘because more people hear you music, but in America, advertisements get people into my music as my music wasn’t played on radio. It’s an odd situation. Aphex Twin has this as well, when he advertised Pirelli tyres in the 90s. So you were getting quite experimental electronic music on mainstream TV, but all the radio stations were saying: ‘This is far too specialist, we can’t play this in the day time’. But you’d switch the telly on and there it was. I think telly is rubbish, I hate and I don’t watch it. But television adverts are one of the only ways that an independent electronic artist is gonna get their music heard in the mainstream. In one way you’ve got to get your music out there in any way, but I’m a lot more considerate of how the music is used nowadays, now I definitely think twice. You learn from experience.

‘Kalimba’ was used for Windows 7, was that a good experience?

I think so. All the web advertising is an odd thing. Oh, that was given out with Windows, wasn’t it? All that kind of stuff I just hear about it, I’m not really into computers or television, so these kinds of things seem to pass me by. But it’s one of things where someone buys a computer and the track is there, in one way it’s giving it away but how else are they gonna hear it? They’re not gonna hear it on radio. Unless I find it really offensive I kinda let my music be used for stuff. Windows was quite a good way of reaching people, and it’s not really tied to something. Your music isn’t being used to advertise a particular brand of sausage roll, it’s just there and people can share it with their mates or whatever.

Your earlier stuff like 'Keep it Unreal' haven't really dated. Why do you think this is?

I think because I’m not really that bothered at what’s going on at any particular time. I don’t really make tunes that sit neatly in any particular genre. A lot of the music I use is already timeless to me, when you’re already using a lot of classic sounds already, another ten years on top of that, isn’t a very much really. I surround myself by so much music that I don’t make the mistake of trying to make it sound too current or too trendy. My production style is very open. It’s a real mish-mash of stuff, so it can’t be pinpointed so easily, and hopefully has a bit more longevity. I’m not one for gimmicks; I prefer solid, simple ideas.

What are you listening to at the moment?

The new album by Quantic is really good. I managed to blag a copy of that a few months back and I’ve been playing incessantly. That should be out in a few months. He’s been living in Columbia for a few years, working with some incredible musicians. So that hasn’t been off my stereo. I went to Chicago last week and bought a load of mad, old, obscure disco records too, so that’s been great fun. I listen to a lot of old and new music all the time. I make sure I’m constantly hearing music that’s new to me so I can get excited about it and hopefully pass some of that enthusiasm to the people on the dance floor.

Hen Party

Feather boas, L-Plates, willy straws, pink cowboy hats and ass pinching.

Hen parties have a habit of dividing women into two camps; those who relish the absolute freedom that comes with wearing a silly hat (you can do anything - fact) and those who shy away from penis paraphernalia, preferring to wile away the hours looking embarrassed, but dutifully holding back the maid of honours hair.

But Henparty, the band, do not incite the same divides. If you like pop music, can jump around like a loon to, you’re welcome to the Henparty party. Woody Harrelson’s 1982 mug shot greets visitors to www.myspace.com/henparty, an inconspicuous choice you might think. He is a handsome man after all.

But knowing that the mug shot is the result of an incident concerning Harrelson’s drunken dancing in the street (no lie), reveals some part of what Henparty are all about.

Packing more mystery into an interview than Scooby Doo manages to stuff in the Mystery Machine, future pop stars Henparty chat with Heineken Music — leaving us more confused, yet more intrigued than ever.

From the outset the band cite their influences as, “Dutch post-punk combo The Sit, The Clean, Tall Dwarfs, Halo Benders, Guided by Voices and Beat Happening”, Henparty are adamant they make “pop music, and no mistake.”

Their MySpace hosts no actual pictures of the band, unless the band is comprised of two chickens, two bin bags, Ross Kemp, Danielle Westbrook, Steve McFadden and a bear. We can only dream.

According to group, the band is comprised of “Omar Plastic and Bear McFlurry”. So there really is a bear at least.

The duo say they look like Woody Harrelson “only during the month of October”. Adding, “We resemble two black spar value bin liners more. Eye of the beholder stuff, y'know?”

Questioned on where they’re from, the band try to explain. “It’s hard to say. We're definitely not from the north of south, anyway. It's an east-west deal.”

Galactic City Heard and Mc Donald Islands are cited as their hometowns. But the trees are not made of chips on Mc Donald Islands as you might expect, “It's barren. Zero nutrition and it's full of thousands of teenagers in tracksuits being dicks.”

The band got together on “One hot sticky drunken night” in 2009. But they insist they “can't really get into it here.”

Being of 2009, Henparty embrace technology when it comes to song writing, “We take a cut and paste attitude towards making our music.” Literally it seems, “We use e-mail, which we feel is underused on the modern music scene.”

A live Henparty gig can get a bit rowdy, “It gets pretty full on. Very cathartic. If it's been a bad week, we'll just beat the hell out of each other for 35 minutes and leave any music to chance.”

The bottom line is, if you like “blob-rock guitar chops and electrifying ride cymbal work”, and you know what that is, you might dig Henparty.

Omar Plastic and Bear McFlurry requested it is noted that no animals were hurt during the creation of the band.

Catch them while they still look like Woody Harrelson.

Hen Party tracks are available to download from www.myspace.com/henparty

Straglers

"A lot of our finest work has come from drinking sessions yeah. There’salways a new song created when the cans of Tuborg are about."

Hailing from their self-proclaimed ‘cultural home of Europe’, that’s Coolock to you and me, Straglers have returned from a brief hiatus as a foursome with a new single and an album release in the pipe works. Connected caught up with founders Colin and James to chat about pushing live boundaries and creepy convents in Cavan.

Where have you guys been all my life? Or the last few years even.
Colin: The album has taken quite a while to record, mix and master. We produced it completely ourselves, and after recording we needed a little break, a chance to step away from the album and attack the mixing stage with fresh ears.
James: The hiatus was just that we needed to re evaluate where we wanted to be as a band, and how we where going to do that. We never stopped writing, or fell out, just took a step back had a look at things. But it feels like a new band now, so everything is sweet.

How have Straglers changed since we saw you last?
Colin: We’re now a four piece, with an extra member on board. The live set up has changed quite a bit. New gear, new techniques.
James: We’re working closely with a visual artist he's gonna incorporate a live visual set into our gigs. Also, we will be recording a closed room live DVD with this visual show included; we think it’s very important to keep pushing the boundaries in the live environments.

The video for the new single Bitches in the Basement is a bit disturbing.
Colin: Yeah, the Director Russell Cooley had a lot of ideas. He was on the same wavelength as us. We wanted something a bit different, not the usual performance type video. That didn’t appeal to us. It’s more like a little mini film, a moody, dark piece of work.
James: We'd been chatting with Russell about the song for weeks and we just threw ideas around about what the song was about and we were clear that we didn't want a "band performance" video. So he just came back with a complete idea from start to finish of what the concept would be. The idea of "what comes around goes around" is the underlying message, so be careful and you have been warned!

The derelict gaff looks pretty ace.
James: It’s a convent in Cavan that been derelict since 1985. It’s a massive big gaff that’s in rack and ruin. Pretty eerie place.
Colin: There’s four storeys and literally hundreds of rooms, a church, boiler room. The place looks so amazing; it would be a shame if it was ever refurbished.

How’s the album progressing?
Colin: All wrapped up now. We’ve just the artwork to sort out now. It’s quite ambitious as a debut we’d like to think. Our influences are quite varied, and that comes across on the recordings. We like the idea of each song being different to the next.
James: We recorded fifteen songs for it but painstakingly whittled it down to ten. It’s quite schizophrenic in a way, because it chops and changes, yet the album flows really well. We approached it from a song to song basis, rather than trying to get a "sound for the album". That can get very boring. Too many albums after track four start to sound the same. Having said that, it definitely sounds like Straglers.

16 cans, 4am – is that the usual song writing process?
Colin: Sometimes! A lot of our finest work has come from drinking sessions yeah. There’s always a new song created when the cans of Tuborg are about. Songs can come from anywhere though.

‘Bitches in the Basement’ is available on iTunes, alongside a remix by Hugh People. ‘The Kids are Deranged’ album set for summer 09 release.

www.myspace.com/straglers