Morning,
So the first Bear’s House at The Albany was wicked. Just the atmosphere I was hoping it would be and all the acts delivered sets that left people leaving feeling happy they came out. Thanks to everyone who reached down and the all the acts and The Albany tech staff (who were brilliant). All in all my first proper night went just how I wanted. See you at the next one. I put together some tracks I was listening to. Check it out.
This is gonna be ace. Going all out to make it like coming over to mine to hang out, eat, drink listen to amazing live music and skank to me fighting Berko through songs
Hello. Shop nearly sorted (I promise). In the mean time hears the rough draft of the piece I made for the David Lynch Scratch at BAC a couple weeks ago. You have to play the sound clips and read in between. I reckon it’s the start of a nice idea. Check it out.
‘DALE’ - Draft idea Polarbear
Check this out. (play excerpt1)
That’s me walking in on my brother. God knows what he did with his voice.
I reckon that’s 1995, or maybe 96. Which means I’m like 15 and Nathan must’ve been 18. Which means it can’t have been that long before it happened.
He thought he was Dale Cooper. Wanted to be him. Fucking obsessed. Asking for eggs over hard and crispy bacon, complimenting Mom on the coffee like he knew what he was talking about. I always just found him funny, I mean I know who Dale Cooper is now but I didn’t then. In fact I didn’t even know what Twin Peaks was. I remember Nathan being left in charge when mom and dad were out. Me being about 9 and him letting me stay up and falling asleep on the sofa while we were watching the telly. He used to have a notebook and pencil ready and I never asked what it was for cos he would’ve just told me to shut up and go to bed.
I woke up and it must’ve been halfway through or something cos all I can remember is seeing some guy with a pony tail sat in a wheel chair like in a coma or something and this proper creepy music and being half asleep and the guy in the chairs eyes moving a bit or something and I shit myself. Couldn’t sleep.
Never saw anymore of Twin Peaks after that til I started going through Nathan’s stuff.
I don’t know when he started recording but there’s a box full of tapes, none of em marked or anything and I always just thought they were like mix tapes or something. I played one and it was an early Westwood show so I just left em.
Then yesterday I just felt like it and that’s what I found. That tape and this notebook.
He’d already gone a bit weird by that point. He was smoking pretty much everyday and just locking himself away in his room.
I remember hearing dad call it a phase when him and mom argued about it. That it was, “just Nathan responding to what had happened”. Being that close to something that horrific. So that’s what I said whenever anyone bought him up.
How’s your brother? Horrible what he saw, can’t imagine it.
He’s ok; it’s just a phase.
To be honest I think it’s overrated myself. The full two seasons I mean. The pilot is pretty good and the first season, ok the first season is pretty sick, but after Leyland dies it all got a bit boring for me.
Nathan used to say it was the networks fault. Talk about them like he knew them.
It was them ABC wankers. They didn’t get it. Stories within stories. It could just keep going so long as you don’t reveal everything. Dickheads.
Part of me was jealous. You know? I can admit that. To be into something that much. To completely submerge yourself in a different world. I never did that. Nathan was different.
After what happened he just went further in. Started making less and less sense. But getting more and more routine. Sometimes at night I’d hear him through the wall. Talking to himself. Pacing around.
Every morning he’d come downstairs at twenty to ten. Pretty much bang on. He’d say hello if we were having breakfast and deflect questions from Mom. He’d go out into the back garden and through the gate. Twenty minutes later at ten o clock on the dot he’d walk back in with a folded newspaper and a small package under his arm. Like a Jiffy bag. He’d pour a cup of coffee and go back upstairs and we wouldn’t see him again for the rest of the day. I was pretty sure that was how he got his weed, but god knows who left the packages where and what else was inside them.
Every Thursday he had to go and speak to someone. A doctor. Trauma counseling they called it. The irony is I’m pretty sure that just fueled his mind even more. I imagine him lying there talking to some crackpot psychologist in a garish Hawaiian shirt.
(Take out note)
Acetylcholine neurons fire high, voltage impulses into the
forebrain. The impulses become pictures, the pictures
become your dream. But no one knows why we choose
these particular pictures.
He left that next to my bed. Under my alarm clock. I’m not sure when he put it there, could’ve been there for ages. I didn’t find it til I knocked the clock off.
My brother. Fucking Agent Dale Cooper.
(look at notebook)
I don’t really remember dreams. Never have. I’m not like him.
Which is why I don’t want to open this
It was just a phase. Him responding to what he’d seen.
“LOCAL TEENS WITNESS CORNERSHOP HORROR ATTACK”
I’ve pictured his face. Eyes wide. Flecks of Eddie’s blood warm on his cheek. The silence.
I don’t know what that does.
I never met the girl. I’m not even sure of her name, but her face stays with me. The pair of them and what they saw.
Just a phase.
A phase that
Made him think they were after him.
Made them take him away. Agent Dale Cooper in a padded room.
Something don’t feel right (play excerpt2)
END.
Hello.
A bunch of people have been asking me to make tracks available from the ‘Keep It Simple’ EP that I made with Session in early 2007. The tracks ‘Candlelight’, ‘Seven Thirty’, ‘Keep It Simple’ as well as the first incarnation of ‘Jessica’ in ‘Fade To Black’ will all be available as soon as my programming genius friend Paul says which method of getting them up here to buy is best. ‘Just Talkin’ EP will also be up for download as well as a project produced by AFROSAXON which is alright too. Sorry it’s taking so long but as a child of the 80’s, who doesn’t understand computers unless they have a green screen and buttons that sound like a door closing when you push them, I’m kind of out of my league. Thanks for the interest and below is a link to my myspace page where there’s a downloadable remix from Session of one of the tracks from ‘Keep It Simple’ as a thanks. Thanks
Morning.
So I joined twitter and I actually do use it to tell people what’s going on, you know, in the monent and obviously try to be funny or at least insightful or just slag stuff off etc. check it out here.
In other news I’m getting an album together of musical tracks produced by AFROSAXON. Listen to one of the tracks below.
Sending out demos soon to indies as this self pressing business is long.
Nice one Polar
This Wednesday 19th August I’m hosting the Roundhouse Slam Final. The two heats have been fantastic in terms of quality and audience. Packed Freedom studios have seen the best collection of spoken word artists I’ve ever witnessed under one roof. The 10 highest scoring artists compete this week for the Roundhouse Slam Crown.
I’m not really a slam fan myself. I’ve only been to a few and to be honest it’s always seemed like a bunch of frustrated comedians or bad rappers. This is different. Probably because the artists taking part are not scene-weary performers craving applause, but rather writers who are excited about sharing their work and gaining some recognition. Man they deserve it. I’m the Grinch, I don’t like performance poetry but I’ve loved both nights so far. If you’re around and there are tickets left, come down. It’ll be alright.
Nice one
Polar
He lays
how he should lay
in bed she lays
perpendicular
knees over knees
and from above
they look
like 9 o’clock
tired eyes and ten painted toes
tingle
take turns to breathe out.
street light creeps
across ceiling
while sheets lie smiling
on the floor
door closed
window ajar
as
far far away
the world carries on.
Copyright 2009 Polarbear
Your hips and tangerine
lips
turn me animal
and I don’t care whether
or not
it feels special
just that you feel
sometimes the sky is just sky
and your nails scratch my skin
don’t ask me what I’m thinking
just smile while you
sleep
for one night I’ll bite you
and
there’ll be no going back.
Copyright 2009 Polarbear
To those of the broken homes
x-rays showing up close two broken domes
they sip cans while they’re smoking cones, but
always shows respect with well spoken tones
family moans,
they know it’s a tragedy
many a night a dem spent up in casualty
if it’s a fight then you know he had to be
getting involved for the underdog happily
but young paws can’t fight laws of gravity
lay in the gutter feel the moment of pure clarity
that’s the vision
make a decision
hear the voice in the back of the mind, time to listen
stop
aftershock of the brain a few twitches
in a room with umpteen new stitches, and
yes the nurse was cute
but you’re stupid
another mug of a thug she can’t do with
and maybe, just for a second your eyes meet
but then she gets you back on your feet and out on the street
she may have seen that beneath the foolish meat
there lay a boy who was warm, cool and sweet
it doesn’t matter
battered and clattered
and as a matter of fact
you’ll probably see her next week, cos
underneath warm glove lies a fist
that’s ever ready to throw when eyes pissed
and there’s no bull of a man denies mist
when the flames reach boiling point, the fire kissed
And they say, ‘he’s mad at himself’
and they say, ‘he’s crying for help’
and they say,
a whole lot of stuff
as they watch from afar what they don’t
live themselves
maybe they’re right
but when he gets in a fight
he’s not thinking about mental health
Eyes roll back he’s not sure where it comes from
he comes to and he sees they’ve all done one
and he’s there
swinging at air
tongue struck dumb young grizzly bear
bloody lip, tears on his face
he thinks of his family
thinks of disgrace
then he picks himself up runs home at full pace
huddled in corner drunk and blood taste
prays for sleep
deep like oceans to
dream of beautiful girls and love potions
It’s all good
It’s all bad
It’s all good
It’s all bad
IT’S ALL GOOD
Young blood with heart of an ox
held back in the school of hard knocks and
sometimes I don’t see him for months
few new cuts one or two new lumps
we hear the sirens sound, my man jumps
averts my eyes from blood stain on new pumps
we pull pints of pain
and pure pleasure
good times you can’t measure unfold the minds treasure
and
peace
beautiful release unspoken
barriers all broken smiles we’re all joking
But
then someone hits the switch
‘He said that she said somebody called our mom a bitch’
‘What?!’
and then the rage
aimed against a phrase somebody says that someone on a completely different page
might have said
eyes red job done
guys dead mob run
The aftermath
broken noses
friendships
hope
and glass Hulk smash
I sometimes wonder how long can it last?
the cycle hits me
when I see your son in your lap
I know you fight cos it’s all a fight
and if you’re warm at night then it’s all alright
and as long as you breathe you won’t fall tonight
must run in the genes, one for all right?
I know you fight cos it’s all a fight
and if you’re warm at night then it’s all alright
and as long as you breathe you won’t fall tonight
must run in the genes, one for all.
Copyright 2009 Polarbear
.
It’s a grey day
but we’re outside anyway
everything and nothing to say
stood by the wall
everything’s boring when you don’t have a ball
girls are the enemy
Danny’s been telling me
he’s older than me
and with that extra year’s grown bolder than me
some kids think they’re cool
but Danny’s colder you see
now
I stand with almost every break-time
and he takes time to tell me things
and even well the bell rings
he just stands there like he doesn’t care
-I don’t care
he says,
-Them teachers don’t know nothing
we did double negatives last week
but I keep bluffing
-Nah I know
I say
-Who needs dumb sums and a village with 3 corners?
-What you talking about?!
he says, like a warning and
I make a mental note to remember to stay quiet
our diet consists of Wham! Bars, Wotsits and IronBru
Danny has a habit of lying and I wanna be like him
so I’m trying too
-So who would you choose?
he says
and I realise I’m not listening
I was smelling the after-rain and admiring the tarmac glistening
-Are you listening? You baby! Come on, start paying attention. Either your mom or your dad has to die, who do you choose? Answer the question!
it’s distressing, a horrible thought
but I’m caught in the pressure of peers
and I’m thinking most days I’m hating the bell
but now I’m praying that teacher appears
ding dong
so I’m seemingly saved by the bell
but the sentence seems to be engraved like a spell on my mind
Danny just stands with his plans to play rebel and I?
I walk hand in hand with the question inside
either mom or dad has to die, ignoring the reasons why
I must choose
and before dinner time
I love my dad
he checks my homework like mom
or fusses about school
he’s cool
he says I have to make my own rules
he rules!
I see him thinking while he’s stood at the sink
he’s not tight with his money and turns real funny at night
when he’s having a drink
he says one day he’ll teach me to wink
but not right now, cos I know that he’s busy
some days he spins me round with his hand
and I have to sit down cos I’m dizzy
my dad is the boss
he’s always working
he hides treasure that he drinks from a bottle that stinks
in the basket we keep dirty shirts in
nothing ever hurts him
he’s pretty much perfect
and if I close my eyes and try pretty hard
I’m sure I can hear his voice
and though mom cooks my food and takes away my bad mood
I’m sure Danny thinks that dad’s the right choice
I don’t eat with the rest
cos I’m trying my best to avoid what I know must be coming
my stomach feels tight
and under white cotton vest
it feels like my chest’s got a drum in
some kids come runnin from inside the hall
and I wish I was small or a hundred feet tall
so I could hide from Danny, or threaten to squash him
but I’m not
my face and my palms feel hot
I don’t like this game
I’m pretty sure I love mom and dad the same
and I know Danny hasn’t got a mom
but I’m not to blame
we’re just not the same
nah, he’s better, cos he’s older
and just then I feel a hand on my shoulder
for a split second I think of my dad, then my mom, then my dad again
and before I have a chance to feel sad again
his voice says
-So who would it be? I didn’t forget
I turn round to face him and I must look upset
cos he says
-Don’t be such a girl! Just choose! It’s easy!
and although I feel queasy, I know what I’m supposed to say,
-Mom. My mom would die and I’d live at home with my dad
it feels like a weight has come off my shoulders and now I’ve told him
it’s not that bad
Danny smiles and I feel warm inside
as I think about all he’s been telling me
he says,
-Moms are pretty much grown up girls and remember, girls are the enemy
a ball flies past and at last I’ve impressed him
passed the test and avoided a dare
so we start to play
and though the day’s still grey
I have to say
I really don’t care
Copyright 2009 Polarbear
Copyright © 2010 Polarbear