An Interview with Samantha Hale

Map the Music happened when, inspired by the comfort she found in going to concerts after her father’s death, Samantha Hale started taking a video camera around with her to see the likes of Imogen Heap, Tori Amos, Carey Brothers and Zoë Keating. The result is a really beautiful documentary investigating the incredible ways that music affects people’s lives.

I asked Sam some questions about the film and its upcoming sequel.

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You didn’t go to film school, but was film-making something you’d thought about doing before having the idea for Map the Music?

Actually, no. Ever since I was little I wanted to be an actress. I thought that was what I was meant to do. I was still pursuing it when my dad passed away, and the only reason I stopped was because it was such a difficult time for me. I had already planned to go to several of Imogen Heap’s shows before he passed, and I almost didn’t go. My friends convinced me to go and I wound up going to about 10 or so shows that tour. When Immi announced she was doing another tour later that year I decided to go again. At first I thought I would bring a little camera just to have a video blog, but then I realized there are so many people out there who use music as therapy (like I was doing,) so I thought why not document other people’s experiences as well. And that’s how it started. I kind of made it up as I went along and learned how to use the camera equipment as I went along as well…

How is Map the Music 2 going to be different from the first film?

 Well I definitely knew that I wanted to make it different than the first one. I am a bit more ambitious with this one, in the sense that I want to expand on everything really. I am interviewing a larger variety of musicians – different genres and age groups. I am interviewing people on streets in various countries – not just the USA. I am trying to show that music and love are universal. I am travelling more and working harder to get the most unique possible footage and stories that I can get. And when it comes down to it, love is a powerful, emotional and broad concept. Plus I would like to think I have grown a bit since making the first film, and it will be even more personal.

Map the Music was inspired by your dad’s death and the comfort you were able to find in music, but Map the Music 2 will be about how music ties in so closely with love. What happened in your life to make you want to focus on that?

I can laugh about it now, but it was difficult to admit at first. I got the idea for this film after having my heart broken by a man I met while filming the first MTM. Being that he is a musician, I started having a really hard time listening to some of my favorite music because some of it reminded me of him. I realized I was hearing music more intensely – both when I was with him and feeling bliss, and when I wasn’t with him and was hurt. I just blindly began filming a few months later not really knowing what I was trying to say with the film. It took me a year a filming, but I finally figured it out, and am very proud of where this film is going…

Interviewing so many people with this “addiction” to going to concerts did you notice any common answers? Is there a universal thing that keeps people coming back?

Hmmm. It’s hard to put it into words. I guess that goes hand in hand with why the power of music is so hard to explain. The most common thing I see is when I ask people about concerts, love, and music…is that their face lights up and they smile.

Do you think it’s healthy for us all to hold on to music this much for support, is it safe to depend on and have so much faith in? And how is that different with being invested in a song and invested in the person who writes it?

That’s a great question and something I absolutely address in the film. It’s a big part of the ending. It’s one of the most important themes actually. So maybe let’s talk more about this after the film comes out ;)

What’s the most ridiculous thing you have done to get to a concert? (e.g spending lots of money, travelling far, giving up something?)

Flying all over the world to Tori Amos play with a full orchestra. Totally worth the experience though. It’s a great way to see new cities with a group of friends, then everyone comes together to go see the show and it’s a beautiful experience.

Finally, best gig you’ve ever been to? (It’s totally okay to pick like, five)

Oh man. You are going to make me pick? I have been going to shows since I was 12! My first big concert was a radio station Christmas show and there were about 12 bands playing….No Doubt, Garbage, Bush… It was 1995 and I wanted to go so badly because Alanis Morissette was playing. I wound up sneaking in to the pit and got to see her right up close. I was so excited and thought I was so cool for sneaking up there!

**

Watching Map the Music was one of the most reassuring experiences I have ever been through… amid how interesting and informative it is, it’s also just like being told “Oh hey, so it turns out you’re not a complete weirdo for feeling like this" - admittedly, the first time I saw at it was very late at night, feeling like I was the last person in the world awake, and I cried and cried. Music and going to concerts are a huge part of people’s lives, it unites people, and I’m so glad someone’s bringing this to attention.

You can learn more about the movies and buy the Map the Music DVD right here, and the next film is due for release next year.

"Babel" Day Craziness

So today, Mumford and Sons second album, "Babel", is released out into the world.

I am just one devoted fan that's been waiting two years for this, and although there's been a lot of early versions of new songs going round on YouTube and Tumblr etc for the last two years I held back. I wanted to do the traditional thing; go out and buy a physical copy and listen to the whole record from start to finish, having heard none of it before.

I semi-cracked tonight: I listened to Ben, Ted, Winston and Marcus' Q&A with Geoff Lloyd on Absolute Radio, during which they played some of the new record ("Below My Feet", "Lover of the Light", "Hopeless Wanderer", "Whispers in the Dark" and new single "I Will Wait".)

I lay in bed in layers of jumpers, with wet hair, lit candles all over the room and just sat in peace with my eyes closed and listened.

And I was worried a little about "second album syndrome".

But it is so beautiful.

I'll write a review, maybe in a week or two, but for now that's all I can summon. Just... complete state of wonder. Sorry for being so inarticulate.

At the end of the radio show, "Lover of the Light" came on and my room smelt like pine. And singing along I felt a lump in my throat. And I realised I felt something I hadn't in years: I felt like it was Christmas. Like a kid on Christmas Eve. I don't even know, either.

I'm going to hold back from downloading it now, and going to the nearest record store forty minutes away straight after college tomorrow. But you can go on iTunes from right now onwards and get your copy, or buy one in most shops.

I'll talk about "Babel" properly after I've bought it tomorrow but I just wanted to document how happy I am right now.

Happy Babel Day, internet. xxx

Less Than Three

Today I was busking, and a girl who'd been asking people for money down the street with a paper cup came and sat near me. She was homeless and kind of grubby looking and admittedly I felt threatened, because I have always been told to around people that look a certain way. Now I feel very guilty for making that judgement. But then she said she was just stopping to hear me play, and asked if I knew "The A Team" by Ed Sheeran.

I played it and it must have been awful. I forgot my capo yesterday so sang it four semi-tones down from normal but she was nice enough to stay and she sang along. Afterwards we talked about Ed Sheeran for a while and admitted to me that "The A Team" was her song, because she was homeless, she was an addict, and earlier on in her life she'd worked as a prostitute. And she was absolutely lovely.

Since being a kid I've been told to avoid homeless people in the street and things and that they're these grubby little human beings nobody seems to think of as humans.

But this was just a girl, who'd like everyone else struggled and had a song that was her comfort blanket, it belonged to her.

There isn't really a moral to this. It just was a part of the list of things that have happened recently that restored my faith in human nature.

I wrote a review of a really beautiful concert I went to a few days ago on here and the response has been so lovely. Those of you who have been retweeting and sending me things on Twitter, thank you so much. Your support has been incredible and I hope to meet you at lots of shows in the future I'm sure we'll all be at! Bo was absolutely "megatron."

Hope you're well, sorry this was not a proper blog,

Lizzie xx

Bo Bruce - Upstairs at The Garage, Islington - Thursday 16th August 2012
Small Warm Up Gig for V-Festival

The first thing you need to know about Bo is that if you're from the UK, you're likely to know her as the girl who came as runner-up on a TV talent show called The Voice, but she's not at all the commercialised sell-out we've come to expect from these things. Bo has been, and will be, writing beautiful songs for years. Her 2010 EP "Search The Night" recently reached #2 on iTunes, showing that she's already developed a fanbase that love her for the art she makes, not just because of hearing her sing some albeit brilliant cover songs on TV.

The Garage is a really small venue in Islington, its upstairs room last night was filled with candles. I arrived stupidly early, having dragged my French exchange sister on a train journey from Cheshire to London and found a place at the very front, about two metres from where the mic stand was poised, deciding to sit on the floor cross-legged and see if the people in the front row did it and everyone else would follow, something I've always wanted to try, and in a sense it almost worked.

Until the support act, Ben Montague, took to the stage, in which the small crowd of around 100 filling up the room. He makes what I would say is folk-pop music, and sang love songs alone with another acoustic guitar player, instead of the full band he normally plays with, but his more stripped back versions of songs had no trouble filling the room. At one point he actually asked the sound guy to turn down the volume, which someone commented was probably the first time a musician's done that on stage. He played brilliantly, the only fuck-up being when he thanked "Jo... wait, Bo!" for having him, and managed to have the crowd singing along during one song.. He's @ben_montague on Twitter, recently got playlisted by Radio 2 and you should definitely check him out.

A while past nine, it was announced that Bo was about to take to the stage and her band entered first: from what I recall a drummer, a guitarist and two keyboard players.* They played the instantly recognisable introduction to David Guetta's "Without You", which was Bo's audition song on The Voice, and she came on and started to sing.

Bo's voice, on stage, is one of the most beautiful and perfect I've ever heard. The only difference between her studio recordings and live performance is the lack of reverb. For those unfamiliar, Bo Bruce has the kind of breathy, "wispy" (a word my friend used to describe her, I quite like it) style of singing that's compared most often to Sinead O'Connor and Dolores O'Riordan from The Cranberries, using glottal strokes and mini-yodels, sliding into tiny gasps of falsetto at the end of a note.

Bo's second song was an original, the thoughtful and haunting "Behind the Gates", followed by "Fighting Arizona" which is also from Bo's EP "Search The Night", an offer of comfort and support to a friend stuck in the cycle of crime and drug addiction.

Then, she sang a gorgeous rendition of Kate Bush's "Running Up That Hill", this quiet and respectful three minutes of mutual audience understanding where there was no cheering, no singing along, but a kind of silence and communion.

"Black Ice" is beautiful, and admittedly I spent the entire time trying to watch what the keyboard player was doing as I've been sitting at the piano late at night attempting to scribble out sheet music for a whole week now. It's a song about a broken relationship, where Bo's gorgeous vocals soar in her upper range.

Bo announced her "last song" would be "Charlie Brown", and I almost feel ashamed about the fact that it was one of my favourite songs of the night (actually, it was fantastic) because it was a cover. But the Coldplay song suits her so perfectly and it was the point in the night where confidence that had been wavering at the start had truly soared. The room was full of dancing and smiling, I felt this growing lump in my throat because I can't help but say that when she sings "Charlie Brown" it sounds like rainbows. I'm sleep deprived, inarticulate and slightly crazy right now but it does, it sounds like rainbows.

After calls for an encore, she played an absolutely gorgeous new song called "The Fall", with just a piano, which I expect will be on her new album in October. In the area I was stood there were several people in tears.

After the show, Bo was nice enough to take the time to spend a few minutes with each and every person who waited behind and I think of all the musicians I've seen she might be the one that shows the most care and trust in her fans. She hugged and kissed everyone and was lovely to talk to and very grateful (I brought her some cookies).

Everything about her is original and a work of art - the way she sings, writes, looks and moves about the stage, and I really think there's going to be such a wide market for this girl.

One of the only criticisms I have about last night is how few original songs she played in comparison with covers (although I know doing this is what helped her success) and I have a theory she doesn't quite realise how many people have heard of and love the things she writes, too. Having said that, all three of the cover songs she sang last night were completely perfect.

Bo's career is really just beginning to blossom - she has an album release planned for the autumn, and a UK tour in the winter planned. Intimate, tiny gigs are my favourite and I really recommend you go see her whilst shows are still this small.

***

*Please correct me if I got this wrong and you were there!

blubbering about music, putting off my biology paper

I’ll tell you in advance this post will be naïve and soppy and stupid. Especially this next sentence:

Music is just so, so good.

I don’t know if it’s that I forget or that I underestimate how it can make me feel, but every so often the way that listening to certain artists and bands can comfort me is just ridiculous. It’s maybe even wrong because it’s a form of comfort that isn’t quite real, even though it’s there. It isn’t the same as a person, not even food or a blanket or something solid to hold on to but what it can do to us is so astounding to me.

And I think today I came to the conclusion that sometimes one of the best things art can do is make you forget yourself. Whether it’s a film about talking dogs or a Jane Austen novel or the sound of Winston Marshall playing the banjo, sometimes I find that something being incredible in whatever way it is and taking up all of my attention can even make me forget who I am or what I look like, to not have to be a person and have my thoughts completely wrapped up in art.

*

Excuses time: I’ve kind of had technical problems over the last month, but hopefully normal posting will resume. Since last time;
- I went to a really great concert with my friends and met Noah and the Whale!
- I went skiing with my family in the Three Valleys, which was really nice
- I read a lot of good books and went to Buffalo Grill

Hope all’s well your end.

Lizzie x

Wakey!Wakey! - Tuesday October 11th 2011 - Night/Day Cafe, Manchester

Wakey!Wakey! is a band started by Michael Grubbs, a singer and pianist from Virginia. One of my friends introduced me to their music because she heard it in a TV show called One Tree Hill. I love their record Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said The Last Time I Saw You... because every song is just so different.

We were late for the concert, doors opened at seven thirty and we stumbled in after getting lost in Manchester at about ten o clock, but luckily they'd only played about two songs when we walked in, I'm guessing they started that late because there were two support acts and I think the venue probably had no curfew.

I'd never been to Night/Day cafe before, and it's a really special place; basically just a bar with live music sometimes, but there are posters and shirts and signed things all over the walls, and I felt oddly welcome even though I don't think I spoke to anyone that worked there. It held about eighty people that night, I think

Michael Grubbs played a keyboard, there were an arrangement of other musicians as his band that seemed to wander on and off the stage at will. He wore a plain white shirt, his hair was messy and everything about the show was so relaxed. He shouted across the room to a singer who'd opened for him, who was in the crowd, interacted with the audience, took pictures and told so many stories sometimes it seemed like he was forgetting to play songs. I laughed so much during a story he told about a karaoke bar in Toronto that there were little tears in my eyes.

But it didn't touch the music. Everything was perfect, the whole band in sync with each other and the violinist was particularly amazing in "Take It Like A Man".

Before we go to shows together, my friend Becky and I always predict little things that will happen, and I said he'd play an ironic cover of a song like Rihanna's "Umbrella". I was partly right, but it was "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper, which is even more awesome.

"Light Outside" had to be my favourite - it was two or three songs after we got in and I remember hearing those first few notes and just grinning because we hadn't missed it during the time we weren't there, and because so many people in the room were singing along with the song I love, and save for my worst days.

He did a meet and greet type thing afterwards, and as we stood around a few metres from him I didn't really feel starstruck or nervous, maybe because although I knew his music I didn't know much about the person until that day. I was planning what I was going to say to him and I had been throughout the show. About a really crappy night I had, about things being better and going home after everyone was gone and sleeping and listening to "Light Outside" and not knowing how to feel, but how that song made me feel like someone knew.

I didn't tell him that, I chickened out. But I did get my video camera and ask him to say something for my friend, who'd introduced me to his music and couldn't go. I still have it on my camera. We took a picture, he signed my ticket and we went home.

I wished I'd told him about "Light Outside" and how it's mine, because he wrote it and deserved to know. I kind of told myself that it was the situation, just like what's happened with me meeting heroes before, that the backs of bars and studios with people around are places for signing tickets and spelling names but it's hard to stumble out the words you really want to say, and I'm not sure he would have known how to reply.

I hope that Wakey!Wakey! stays at this level of fame forever, because it suits Michael Grubbs' charisma, to be able to tell stories and to sing songs.

All Is Fleeting

I had a solid idea of what I wanted to write about today, but I'll save it because right now it seems very important that I share this with you:



Charlie Fink and Laura Marling play "Give A Little Love" and "Alas I Cannot Swim" together in the back of a taxi. I think she must have been around seventeen at this time.

I put "Give A Little Love" on before purely for the lyric all is fleeting. A while before that I'd read something on someone's tumblr post about the value of life, and it made me feel quite guilty because of how I'd been thinking lately.

I turned it off because it was brilliant but didn't seem quite right, and it was the same when I saw Noah and the Whale on Thursday and they opened with "Give A Little Love". They're an amazing band live, passionate and energetic and open, but the first time I heard "Give A Little Love" was this video, and because of that I think of it a little differently.

I've found that with the community of music involving Laura Marling, Noah and the Whale and Mumford and Sons, all of who's music has become a part of my life these last few months - everybody seems to think they know quite a lot about their lives, specifically love-lives, during a certain time. I go between thinking it's interesting to listen to a song and have an idea who or what it is about, to thinking that it's possibly interferring and unhealthy to feel like we have access to this, or have opinions about who should or shouldn't still be together, things like that. These aren't people we know and they don't know us and it doesn't seem quite right.

But I think seeing this, it's okay to watch it with the feeling that this isn't a concert or a performance, not really, but two people in love and in coversation. Music is a platform for connection, not necessarily just for artist to fan, and music is a communion in many different ways. Charlie and Laura. Years ago, looking at each other and singing about how they feel.

Salinas, where the women go forever, and they never, ever stop to ask why

Today, in Maida Vale studies, London, Laura Marling recorded a set of fifteen songs for a studio audience which will be broadcast on BBC Radio 2, next Thursday at 8pm.

And I was there. My dad applied for tickets a while ago, mainly because he knows I love Laura Marling and it was free, but didn't think we'd actually get them - only two hundred were released. I didn't want to tell a lot of people when we got them, because the ticket states it does not guarentee admission (they release more than there are places avaliable, just to ensure seats are filled I guess).

So, to make sure we got in, we left the house for London at 10am. I love being in the car and first coming into London, because it reminds me of some of the things that make it my favourite city: the way everything seems sepia toned, even the sky, and the personality and atmousphere it has that I've never lived around.
We arrived at Maida Vale at around 1pm, needless to say there was nobody starting the queue for a show starting in four and a half hours, and one of the staff told us which door to go to and that people probably wouldn't start queuing until at least four thirty. So we drove to Notting Hill, where we made comments about the movie and debated how much of its population were tourists and I looked at small apartment prices (I'm fifteen, yes, but it's where I plan on living after university and it's never too early to start looking). Notting Hill is a beautiful place, full of antique shops and bicycles and hipsters and coloured houses. We also found the Hummingbird Bakery, and I had my very first Hummingbird Brownie which was delicious. I'm sure it's not the last time I'll go there.

We got back to Maida Vale around 2:30, and it was still empty. It looked like we were definitely going to get in but I sat down next to the door and decided to start the queue myself, albeit three hours early, because there was no reason not to, and I read "The Radleys" for a while and it was four o clock before anybody else joined me in the queue (my dad went for a walk). Yes, I am an overenthusiastic fan.

By half five, the they let us in, the queue had extended to still only about sixty. They gave us stickers when our tickets were validated with our line number on, and I am the very proud owner of ticket number one!

A few moments before we went through the door I saw a small blonde woman smoking a cigarette going through the second door, and I wondered but I wasn't entirely sure...

Then we went into Maida Vale studios, Studio 3, actually, and the set-up I would say was kind of like a cafe - there was no actual platform for the stage, just one half of the room, and the audience sat on tables and chairs with little "electronic candles" on them. We were really close to the front... I mean literally, about four metres from where the central microphone was, and we shared the table with a guy and his girlfriend, who'd seen Laura Marling three years ago when she was touring with Noah and the Whale. I was very jealous.

They were playing pre-recorded BBC Radio 2 in the background and "Tonight's The Kind of Night" came on.

A BBC representative came up and told us that Jo Whiley would be coming on stage soon, and to cheer enthusiastically and things because it would be audible on the radio show next week. Then Jo Whiley appreared, and everyone did cheer enthusiastically, and she said that Laura and her band were in the corridor. At this point there were only about 80 people in the audience, maybe less.

And then, very suddenly, Laura Marling and her band were walking onto the stage and everyone cheered and by this point I was trembling slightly because one of my heroines was literally stood about three/four metres from me.

She was wearing a grey jumper and jeans, just like the girl I'd seen outside.

Laura is twenty-one years old, very blonde and very small with dark eyes and probably one of the most beautiful human beings I've been in the prescence of.

The first song she played was "Rambling Man" (unfortunatley it was spoilt for me because I saw the setlist stuck to the stage) and it was lovely. She has a really odd stage presense - it shouldn't seem lively or anything, because she's quite small and stands still looking distant and staring upwards sometimes. It's so intense just to watch, seeing someone doing something they're so caught up in that it's almost as if they're not quite there.

Which is a brilliant skill, seeing as at the same time she's singing beautifully and being a complete genius guitarist. Her band was made up of a second guitarist who also played piano, a cellist, mandolin, banjo, trumpet, a double bass and a really good drummer.

Oh, and I got the setlist!:



Here is the exciting part.

Afterwards, I asked my dad if we could wait outside for a little while to see if she came out. And he is used to this, as is Poppy or anyone who's been to a few concerts with me, but I've never ended up meeting anyone or waiting that long.

We stood outside the front door for around five minutes, nobody else was, honestly I didn't think I'd see her. It sounds stupid but then I saw her reflection in a car or something, and as that happened my dad came from where he was waiting with the car, saying "Lizzie she's there! Quick!".

She was coming out with some other people, and for about three seconds I was scared to approach and I just went still. And then I said "Laura," and sort of came towards her quietly shaking and took out my copy of "Alas I Cannot Swim" and I asked if she'd sign it and found a pen. She asked my name, and then if it was spelt with a "y" or an "ie".

I felt slightly less dumbly starstruck seeing her and realising it felt a bit like being around someone I know and also like being around a superhero. I said something like "Well done, it was magic." and she said thank you and asked about how we got the tickets. I told her. Then my dad came and joined in the conversation and told her about how we're seeing her at Manchester Cathedral next month. And that was it.

I wish I had a picture of us together but forgot to ask, and besides I think I'd have been embarassed to post it because of how much I'd have looked like crap compared to someone who is so beautiful in person.*

The whole way home, every few minutes, I just came out with "I can't believe I met Laura Marling ____" minutes ago. It will go on for a long time.

To conclude: today was wonderful.
I was ticket number one.
I waited three hours.
I got the setlist.
And I met Laura Marling.

I think I'm too much of a fangirl and don't mind. I also think I won the concert if that's possible.

I'm going to bed now because I have school tomorrow. I just wanted to tell you how amazing today was.

Did I tell you I met Laura Marling?

*I just typed "compared to Hayley G. Hoover."

Best Day/Worst Day

These last few days I read a book called "Looking For Alaska" by John Green (AMAZING.) I'm probably going to write about it a lot in the next week or so, so do your homework if you want to... or I'll just be relatable. Sorry if I'm being too niche recently, but in short having read "Looking For Alaska" isn't really relevent to today's post. But you still should, because I really recommend it. It isn't hardgoing at all, but still provoked me to think about so many things.

They play a game Alaska spontaneously invents, called "Best Day/Worst Day" - everyone tells the story of first their best day every, and then their worst. It's also a drinking game, but I don't have anybody to drink with and getting drunk alone for the entertainment of an empty space on the internet seems stupid.

But I'm still going to play it. Though instead of choosing one I picked multiple for each, because I'm painfully indecisive.

BEST DAYS
(in no chronological order)

1. Going to Camelot Theme Park with my dad, I think I was about aged ten. I think my mum was writing her dissertation or something, so we had to do something to get out of the house so went her. It was grey and it rained, and my dad went on at me to go on a rollercoaster called The Whirlwind. I was in about a two year phase (eight-then, I love them now) when I was scared of rollercoasters, and I planned to pretend I was going to do it then get to the queue and chicken out. But I just didn't, and we got in the cart and I shut my eyes tight the whole time and that was the point I realised I quite like being thrown around over and over again.

2. Royal Albert Hall Day, 2010. I did write a post about this. Seeing my favourite musician, with my best friend, in my favourite city, and spending the weekend there.

3. Geneva, 2011. I go skiing with my parents and my cousin every year, and we drive there, a long journey through Europe, and usually cross about three different countries. This year, we stopped at a roadside bridge my dad spotted and all of us raced along it.

We spent the rest of that day in Geneva, in Swizerland, and it's one of the most beautiful places I think I've been to. We were only there for about an hour but walked through a park, saw the Lake, payed a busker and took pictures of some swans.

4. Spooning in the park, July 2011. A few weeks ago, the day we broke up from school, I went to a slumber party with just my two best friends and nobody else. It was at someone's big farm house, and I think that period - from about 5pm to 3 the next day, I was completley honest the whole time, we all were. We ate a lot of cookie dough and watched High School Musical 3 because I was deprived of it my whole childhood, then ended up getting drunk but not crazy-drunk, just the kind of drunk that opens you up and makes you laugh too much. So we walked to the park and all just lay down in a heap and talked about all the things you're not supposed to the rest of the time. I felt warm and I felt loved.

WORST DAYS

1. Harriet, the girl at the out-of-school club, 2002. The summer I started school, I went to an out-of-school club in the summer whilst my mum was working. Usually my best friend Charlotte was there, or another girl called Maia, but this one time my mum dropped me off and the only person to "play with" - that's what we did then - was a girl called Harriet. I mean, there were a lot of boys, but boys were icky. I recall playing a jigsaw computer game with Harriet, which she made me watch whilst she repeated, and shouted at me that she got three goes in a row, then I could have ONE turn. Aside from that, I can't quite remember what she did to me but I know she was some kind of four year old psycho bitch. I really clearly remember that in my mum's car on the way home, I thought to myself "THIS was the worst day ever. Nothing that has happened to me before or will happen can possibly compare."

2.Sitting on the shower floor after drinking Tia Maria, 2010.
The first time I drank a lot was at someone's house towards the end of last year. I remember a gap between when we were doing shots and it seemed fun, and then some other stuff happened and after that there's a gap between lying on a mattress being hit and then drunkenly sobbing whilst somebody stroked my hair. Then I hugged the person who'd hit me and I told them I was sorry and I don't know why, I wasn't, I was mad at them but I desparatley wanted them not to be mad at me. The next day I got home and I felt like crap and I was still angry so I sat on the shower floor and wept. That was probably quite a low moment.

There are some more worst days I can think of, but they're all similar and hard to explain.
And isn't it better to have twice as many best days than worst days?

Death Cab For Cutie are, according to Wikipedia*, an American indie rock band and the people I know who've heard of them either knew of one of their singles, "I Will Follow You Into The Dark", or have the Twilight soundtrack album.

I went to see them at Manchester Academy on Monday, and I although I was excited it wasn't as much as usually when I go to shows, mainly because I really like this band but don't know a lot of their songs, aside from the album Plans. I obviously would've enjoyed it a lot more, like with any concert, if I knew more of their music, and honestly for the first few songs I was disappointed by the fact that I wasn't recognising things (I know it was my fault).

Then, about four or five songs in, the band left the stage and Ben Gibbard picked up an acoustic guitar and Poppy and I just looked at each other and beamed, knowing he was going to play the song we knew the most.

He was strumming the intro chords over and over, and it struck me then how charistmatic he actually was. Whilst the rest of the band were talented and relevant and definitely a part of the show, from what I saw Death Cab For Cutie is so much more driven solely by its lead singer than some other bands. Not as much as IAMX, for example, but he did more than hold it together, he spoke and sang and honestly seemed like it was mostly just him thoroughly enjoying himeslf and interacting with the audience.

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark" was one of my favourite moments of anything, ever, I think. You could barely hear Gibbard's voice, because the whole audience were singing along, to every single word, and it's things like that that make me think I'm so much less alone in this place sometimes.

I felt so much more attentive after that. Somehow we were shoved very close to the front, and ended up in what I guess was the mosh-pit. My shoes are slightly torn, we jumped up and down a lot and sang along, all the time, because when everyone around you is belting out the chorus at the top of their lungs it's so much easier to learn the words.

They played "Summer Skin" and "Crooked Teeth" (one of my favourite moments!) and "Soul Meets Body" (possibly my favourite baseline EVER) and their new single which I vaguely knew, called "You Are A Tourist".

I don't know the name of the song, I'll google it in the next few days, but there was a really memorable moment where, with everyone around me, I was shouting the words to a song I was only just getting to know. And it went;

"WE ARE ALL THE SAME,
UNDERNEATH THE SYCAMORE!"

And there's something remarkable about yelling that with hundreds of people around you, when nobody can hear their own voice.

They played another song I didn't know and said it was a request, and a boy near me started screaming and smiling, and it was obvious that it was his request and his song. And nobody around seemed to recognise or like it as much as a lot of the others (you notice differences when you're so intensley close to the heart of the crowd) but watching him dancing and smiling so hard he looked worn out, with his friends, was sort of amazing. Poppy said that when that was happening, a woman stood behind us whispered "Freak." and that sort of ruined my memory of it.

I got a little teary-eyed at the end, and couldn't really form a sentence for a minute or so, then we were going to wait outside but had to go to the hospital.

I booked the tickets for that concert at a time there didn't seem to be a lot else going on locally. And as it got closer I thought I regretted it a bit, not because I don't really like the band but because people I'm a bigger fan of or more dedicated to started announcing tour dates. But I'm really really glad I went, I've developed much more of a love for Death Cab For Cutie, and for their audience, from the camp boy headbanging to the bearded guy beside me who between every song yelled "DEATH CAAAAAAAAB", and every single voice singing along with "I Will Follow You Into The Dark".

<3

*Hey this is cool, the picture at the top of their Wikipedia page at the moment is from my concert. :D

Thoughts from a Tate Gallery Adventure

Yo.




So it's just turned eleven o clock but today feels like one of the longest days I've had, ever.

This morning my dad offered to drive me to the bus stop, because I was going shopping with a friend, but as we were in the car Madi texted to say she couldn't go and I didn't really have the heart to ask him to turn around, and I still wanted to go and buy another John Green book (I haven't told you about "Paper Towns" yet? I will!). So I went on the bus to Chester. I went to Waterstones, I bought "The Abundence of Katherines" and... well, after an hour or so, I started thinking about how much time I've spent in Chester recently. And for some stupid reason it made me want to be further away, so I got on another bus to Liverpool because the last time I went there with my friends we were sort of interrupted (that's another story) and considering the amount of time I spend at home, it's big and far away to me.

A few awkward things happened - they always seem to when I end up on public transport alone. I nearly missed the bus home, my parents wanted me to go to their friends birthday party, and closely skimmed a pigeon as I ran through Liverpool One which was... well, terrifying. There was a boy on the bus who, now I think back, might've been flirting with me, but at the time after an encounter I'd seen he'd had at the station with his friend I thought he was trying to sell me weed. Things like that.

And it's weird, but being alone is nice sometimes. At about four o clock, I walked around the Albert Dock and, either because I'm desparately in search of something or just a pretentious annoying hipster, I went to the Tate Gallery, which is an art gallery beside the Beatles Museaum and Bugworld and other galleries, gift shops and cafes around the edge of the Albert Dock. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, the streets were busy and it was cool inside, plus it's free and I had about £2 left in my purse.

It was the third time I'd been in there, and I vaguely remember once, with my mother when I was about eleven, there being this room in one of the sculpture sections where there was some kind of giant glass ball throwing light across the room in different spaces... I can't remember how it looked at all, I think it's gone now, but I remember being intregued by it.

Today, I discovered they have a section now called The Sculpture of Language, curated by Carol Ann Duffy. In one room, there's this huge magnetic wall and three satchels full of giant words on magnets - like "love" and "light" and "champagne" and "giving", it's almost like a refridgerator door, and people come up and arrange them into their own poems.
There's also a desk, with a big fat notebook and a pen on it, entitled "poetry". Leafing through it, it's full of poems and messages from tourists and guests, but it isn't like a conventional visitor book in a museaum. I think that the idea of it was originally to copy down the poems on the magnet wall, but it's full of all sorts of messages - I remember a poem written by a child about a teddy bear, accompanied with drawings, a plea from a stranger about the meaning of life and someone else's reply, and a very simple "I love you, Hayley".

I don't really know what I was doing but I found myself a page and I used the pen in my bag, because there's had run out, and I started writing a letter to someone. And it was words I'd tried arranging out before, ones that had come out in fifteen sides or just a sentence, and I must've looked a mess to anyone around as I was frantically scribbling away, covering up my work a little with my hand.

It probably didn't come out very clearly, or like I would've liked. I don't know if I regret it or not. I know it's something I've tried before. But the thought that although it probably won't find its recepitant, someone will turn through the pages of that book and they'll know, and maybe they'll laugh at me but I don't care because it's out there, miles away.

If you're anywhere close, go see this exhibition some time. Go to the book, if they still have it, and find yourself a page and write something - a love letter, a hate letter, a question or an answer. Write a story. Take some crayons and draw a picture of a unicorn. I can't tell you how magical it feels to loosely connect with complete strangers like that. There is definitely a bit of a weight off of my shoulders.

And if you're somewhere else in the world that isn't England and you visit here, make sure you go to Liverpool some time. I remember it being called something like Capital of Culture one year, and it's sort of true because I don't know any other city which celebrates the Beatles and is full of painted statues of lambs and has pianos in the street that anyone is welcome to play.

So last week, on Wednesday, I went to see a band called Noah and the Whale.
It very nearly didn't happen - I was going to go with some friends from my Guides but it got quite short notice, then I was going to go with someone else who couldn't travel, and then on Sunday when I was talking to myself about how a different show near to us had sold out, my dad offered to go with me, which he does occasionally - he has the live music thing that I do too, but I think he's either learnt to control it or it isn't as important to him. See now I'm being judgemental.

My very first memory of Noah and the Whale music must have been in 2007 - that summer, I was eleven and on the way home from shopping with my mum and my friend when their song "Five Years Time" came on the radio. And I liked it because it made me happy - sometimes music could be that simple then, and I suppose it still can.

I don't remember thinking about their music much, except for singing "And it was fun, fun, fun..." in my head from time to time, up until last year, when because of a friend I listened to "Give A Little Love" and loved it, because of the way the chorus repeated itself in my head and how adaptable it's lyrics were.
And then, at a time that was just right for me personally, I came across "Blue Skies" ... the night I heard it for the first time, it was exactly what I needed.
Their most recent singles have been "L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N" and "Tonight's The Kind of Night", and I love both of them despite the new album, "Last Night On Earth" being so different... not better or worse, just different. I'd say there's a greater variety of instruments, it's also much more cheerful.

On Wednesday night we drove down to their show in Leeds. I had my GCSE French speaking exam the next day and went anyway, because I'm really responsible with my priorities, so I ended up having to revise the whole way. We were almost late for the show.

I won't talk about the support act just now.

The venue was a student union, so I was squished in with a lot of university students in their twenties, all of who I was weirdly taller than. And I love places like that... the way your legs ache from standing and you stop noticing after a while, your shoes are sticky with bear, you're sweating and it's dark and everyone around you feels what you do.

As the band were coming on, a melody called "Paraside Stars" was playing - I didn't know what it was at the time, I only bought "Last Night On Earth" this weekend - but I swear I felt it all of the way through my body, and that's why I love intimate venues.

They played "Give A Little Love" first and in the first few moments of it my thoughts sort of went...
guitarist, keyboard, drummer, violin
HAHA THEIR HAIR IS ALL AWESOME
woah they're playing this song that's so weird i thought it'd be i i i don't know omigod it's all beautifuuuuuulll
woah charlie fink is different in real life
his voice...

The second song I didn't know (I wish I'd bought "Last Night On Earth" before and not just known two songs from it!) but after that they played "Blue Skies".
And I remember these two guys close to me were drunk, singing loudly and dancing together, and usually it would've annoyed the hell out of me but for some silly reason it didn't.
Some audiences make me ashamed to be a part of - because they're too loud or rude, or too quiet and uninviting, but this was just right. It was the most responsive audience I've been a part of - the people around me were singing along with every line of every single song, and I just felt proud.

After this I'm forgetting the order, but I remember some time during the middle they played a song I didn't know called "Wild Thing", but was singing along with quickly as if I did, and it's funny because by now after hearing it more times my conception as to what the lyrics are about is nothing to do with what I thought then...

They played what Charlie called "the quiet romantic part of the set" - the slower songs, like "My Door Is Always Open" in one section of about three or four, and I thought that was an odd way to do things but I liked it.

He then announced, somewhat sarcastically, "Now this is the high energy dance party section of the show." And then opened this with "Roll Away Your Stone", which I was dancing to, and so was everyone around me. This is one of my favourites, and I missed Laura Marling's harmony less than I thought I would, mainly because the audience sang it too.

The only form of live performance I'd seen from them was just Charlie Fink and Laura Marling doing an acoustic set in the back of a cab - I'm tired, but look it up on Youtube - and it was so strange to me that then he seemed more nervous and reserved than in front of an entire crowd. He was probably one of the most charismatic performers I've seen - he would point with his finger whilst singing, as if addressing each of us personally, and constantly throw and catch the mic stand.
And the whole band were so vibrant and together and just excited to be playing, which is always a bonus. Every song they were perfectly in time with one another. It was just so lovely to see how much they looked like they were enjoying it.

"Five Years Time" was instantly recognisable and everyone did that thing when they realise and then cheer. It was one of my favourite moments of the entire show, because everyone in the room was singing along and halfway through "Urby" - the keyboard/ guitarist - was whilstling the refrain and I don't know why but it made me smile.

I love the gradual pace and rise in "Tonight's The Kind Of Night" and the live performance was perfect. They played after that a song called "First Day of Spring" I hadn't heard, because I only have the first album, but it was beautiful. That one was their "last song" and after that they came back on and played "L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N" as an encore, and the only footage I have is a 16 second crappy phone clip of the whole audience singing along, calling out "L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N!" like it was all they believed in.
You can see that one here.

I sort of wanted to wait outside afterwards but didn't, because I had an exam the next day. I honestly think it went okay butif I failed, there's an oppurtunity to retake it in two weeks and I won't regret spending that night away from it all even a tiny bit.

Something Exciting Is Happening! & 2011 Reading List, Update Number Zwei

Hello! I'm sorry it's been a while. Here's some books I've been reading...

"Neverwhere" by Neil Gaiman
The story of a fairly average sort of guy being thrown into a situation where he has to change - after one night he takes in an injured girl in a battered leather jacket, it isn't his own decision when Richard is dragged off on a quest through Neverwhere, a fantasy kingdom underneath the city of London, for those who've slipped through the cracks.
My trouble with fantasy sometimes is that I have problems keeping up with the "rules", but this was so wonderfully out of the ordinary that there were barely restrictions - our main characters rode the London Underground, slipped through paintings, drank wine from Atlantis with the Angel Islington. The main characters are lively and developed and real, Lady Door and Richard and Hunter and especially the Marquis de Carabas are unforgetable, and best of all, they weren't perfect and heroic, they were human.
I'll blame the fact I couldn't keep up with it sometimes on myself, and that's not because Neil Gaiman's one of my heroes and I'm defending him but just because I have trouble, for some reason, fully conjuring up parts of fantasy or sci-fi novels in my brain.
8/10

"The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd
In the 1960s, South Carolina, 14 year old Lily runs away from her father's peach plantation with her only friend, black servant Rosaleen. Inspired only by a photograph with her late mother's belongings, Lily hikes towards Tiburon to locate the Boatwright sisters, who make and sell honey, wrapped in a picture of the black Madonna.
This was brilliant, and although I've read a lot of novels with romance in them, watched a lot of shows, and I don't think I've ever wanted anyone to be together as much as Lily and Zach. That's probably wrong - there's been Callum and Sephy, Ron and Hermione, Mickey and Stacie, Brittany and Santana, but still this came close.
It's about love, the romantic kind between teenagers, unconditional love between sisters, biological and otherwise, and the love between Lily and the mother she can't quite remember. It's also about music, and honey, and bees and it made me happy.
9/10

"Water For Elephants" by Sara Gruen
I finished this in the bath just now, and woah. One of the reasons I wanted to read "Water For Elephants" is that it was initially somebody's NaNoWriMo novel. Events like this I always leave behind the product of, instead of attempting to do anything with them, like edit, or ever touch again - except for maybe what I wrote last November. I liked the idea that what was just someone's NaNoWriMo story is now a bestseller which is being made into a film with Robert Pattinson in it. But I loved "Water For Elephants" much, much more than I expected. I wanted it to inspire me, but I got caught in the story and spent the last few nights staying up late, just to read one more chapter, then another one, then another one. When Jacob Jankowski is called out of his final exam before becoming a qualified vetenarian, he's informed that both of his parents have died in a car accident and everything falls apart. With no money, and no family to go to, he finds work with the Benzini Brothers' Greatest Show on Earth, working under equestrian director, the charming and brutal August. But when Jacob falls for Marlena, August's wife, it causes nothing but trouble.
This story is so lovely. It's powerful, exciting and intense and at times I seriously couldn't put it down. I have a feeling I'll read something over and over again. 9.5/10

Also, I'm working towards a sort of challenge with my friends Beth Holmes and Kathryn Stant to raise money, and it's to do with those with loss of senses. Beth explains it much better here, but basically, I'll be spending a day blindfolded to experience the day to day struggles of being blind. We're each raising money for a charity, obviously to do with our "theme", if you like, and I haven't found a blind charity yet but I'll update you as soon as I do. I'm also looking into setting up an online sponsorships page.

I apologize I haven't been hanging round much recently, I think I'm slightly tired after February or just sick of listening to myself. Things should be back to normal soon. Though I should warn you, if I'm not back this time next week it's because I've run off to elope, and I'm not sure how much of that was a joke. I'm going to get in trouble for writing that now.

See you soon, hope you're doin' well!

Love,

Lizzie xxx

Things I Wish I Could Feel

I want to get something off my chest. It sounds sick, and twisted, and selfish, and wrong, a tiny part of me wants to experience the death of someone perhaps quite close to me.

Not really: I don't want anyone in my life to just be gone and, of course, I'm not talking about anybody specific at all. I love my parents and my other family, and my friends, and I really, really hope nothing bad happens to any of them for a long time.

Urgh. There's really no way to get all of this out without me seeming like an awful, awful person.

But today, I was reading the blog of someone I barely know, a writer, and someone close to them had just died. It was the way they were talking, the way it was written that just made it so clear how they felt about this person, and also how much they'd changed them.
It wasn't completley mournful or full of regrets: it was evaluation and reflection, and it sounds stupid but it was so strong it almost made me cry, and I almost felt astounded that I felt this amount of sadness for someone I don't know very well.

I want to take back the sentence up there.
I don't want anybody close to me to die, of course not.
But the thing is, every so often I see something or watch something or listen to something which brings me to this heavily delicate state of empathy and emotion. It can be happy or sad, but it's ridiculously blown out of proportion, how nowadays my strongest emotions are hardly ever brought on by my own situations, but by the feelings of a fictional character, a songwriter, an author, something which isn't so real to me.

I'm just so fucking sick of everyday life. I'm tired of polite conversation and smiles and watching movies and eating food and walking and driving and too short notice and stopping because I have to wake up in the morning, and restrictions. I want to feel really, really passionate about something real, not just a book or a film or someone else's thoughts. I want anger and violence and tears and strength and patriotism and laughter and argument and love. I want something to happen that can really, really change me. I've had escapism and it's incredible, but I'm starting to need involvement and it isn't here.

Happy Valentine's Day! (caution: a little fluffy)

Happy Valentine's Day, internet! :)










Valentine's Day hasn't really been a big deal for me yet, though this year I did consider leaving an anonymous giant, fluffy dinosaur toy on someone's doorstep, though weighing out the pros and cons I feel like he'd probably have felt a little creeped out.

I spent tonight being moany with a friend, whilst she text-flirted with a boy named Kingsley, and then bought a large box of strawberry-mango tea from Asda which should make up for whatever I'm feeling. I don't want to moan too much about being single on Valentine's Day - I'm fourteen, not thirty, and it's a long time before I should start feeling hopeless, but I'd be lying if I didn't feel like there's something missing.
But I don't want to blubber on about this today, because I've ranted about my thoughts on love and stuffs enough in the past. Instead, because music is the food of love, I made you a list.
(I know I may be going into a teeny tiny list obsession again...)
When I thought about it, going with "love songs" as a theme I could go one of two different ways - there are some beautiful, amazing songs which are sad and melancholy, of loss and longings then there is the sort which is optimistic and full of hope.
I went for the latter, and I don't know why.


FIVE LOVE SONGS FOR VALENTINE'S DAY


"You and I" - Ingrid Michaelson
I only discovered Ingrid Michaelson about a week ago, and she's amazing. I also found out that she originally wrote a well-known British pop song, but I'll talk about this another time.


"Marry Me" - BackTedNTed
I got Ryan Breen's album a few weeks ago and it's, as one of my friends put it, sonic joy. His music, this song in particular, is more electronic than what I normally listen to but I don't care, it's happy and it's catchy and that night I sat on my bed and danced to this.


"The One You Say Goodnight To" - Kina Grannis
This song hasn't been released yet as far as I know, but it's pretty and catchy and also full of hope. Long after it's over, I'm still clapping along in my head.


"Spit It Out" - IAMX
Sort of an odd one out I know, because it's much less light, but from what I can tell this song is about love and devotion. It's probably one of my favourite songs in the world.


"Five Years Time" - Noah and the Whale
Couldn't help myself. Thoughtful, cheerful, doesn't take itself too seriously, and mainly just plain awesome.


"Valentine" - Kina Grannis
Yes, of course I can have two songs by the same artist, because as far as happy, lighthearted, simple love songs go, Kina is queen. Also this song is always up for free download this time of year, so there's no reason why you shouldn't download it because it's magical.


"Swoon" - Imogen Heap
I saved the best till last :) I am so, so in love with this song. It's catchy and it's full of hope and it makes me want to dance around my bedroom in the darkest times. There have been so many moments over the last year or so, when I've just stood in the shower singing "LET ME BE THE GREAT SCOTT, TIP TOP, PIT STOP IN YOUR OCEAN!" Eeeeeee.


I'll go now. I have homework I've ignored too long and such things, and sleeping to do. I hope you had a happy Valentine's day, wherever you are. And I apologize if this post was slushy at all.

love, Lizzie xx

(sorry about lack of spacing, that happens when I post numerous pictures sometimes. One day, I'll figure it out and we will all be saved.) EDIT: Never mind, sorted it I think

Why Eleven Year Old Lizzie Modelled Herself on Sarah Parish

There used to be this TV show on the BBC called Mistresses. It was a drama about four thirty-something women, who were best friends, and the various hiccups in their love lives. It was first on three or four years ago, as I was starting high school.
This was also the time I was swiftly turning into the complete BBC nerd which I am today, and Mistresses was one of the first TV shows which I felt that connection to where the characters became real to me, long before Hustle and even before Britannia High (I'll get on to that).
The four main characters were Trudi, (Sharon Small) a cheerful, housewife and 9-11 widow with annoyingly low self-esteem, Siobhan, (Orla Brady) a lawyer whose marriage is unstable due to her husband's apparent infertility and ends up pregnant, the father being another guy she works with, unsure whether to keep lying for the first five or so episodes. Jessica, (Shelly Conn) was a bubbly, promiscuous events planner, who fell in love unexpectedly with a lesbian whose civil ceremony she was playing and Katie, (Sarah Parish) a GP who had an affair with a terminally ill patient and helped in giving him an overdose, and now his son is on the case.
Watch it. It's so good.
The point is, the way that it inspired me. I was desperate to live this glamorously, and also to find a solid and tight group of friends, so I tried hard to match my friends to each of the characters, and so I did so, with a small, fairly tight-knitted group of friends I had through guides (I wasn't too popular at school in those days), which was obviously hard with eleven-thirteen year olds. My friend Beth (but not you, Beth ;) ) assigned me Katie and I was pretty pleased that my friends seemed to think I was mature, but I didn't start wearing tailored suits.

Sometimes with blogging, something seems interesting and like you can talk about it for a long time... and then you can't. It's sad.

Other stuff:
I've had a really awesome day today. I went out for breakfast. I moved a couple of steps towards living on the edge. I pulled a muscle in my stomach and learnt that I can't say "Ibuprofen" (sp?).

How I Made It to the Royal Albert Hall and Back

I was going to have to write a Royal Albert Hall blog someday, and I've been putting it off for a long time because, as Neil Gaiman said in "Neverwhere" the other night, describing my trip to London and those few days would be like "describing the planet Jupiter as bigger than a duck". It's cliched but I feel like it isn't a thing that can be put into words. But I'm going to give it a firetruckin' good try, because I feel energised and Callie's asleep here in one of my hoodies and I have a malteaser hot chocolate latte drink type thing and I want to write something, and right now there's nothing else I have to give.

A prologue: Last year on February 7th, a few months after I fell in love with Imogen Heap's music I saw her live for the first time in Manchester with some of my friends (Poppy and I had been going to get the tickets, until my mum was like "Stop! I already got those for your birthday! - my parents are awesome a lot of the time). It was a Sunday night, and for the two hours of the concert and about twenty four afterwards I was in a completley blown away and stunned. The next day in school, I could completley recall the sense of being there, not just seeing and hearing but the smell and how my feet felt and the people stood around me. It had changed me and I couldn't grow back into everyday life that quickly, not quite, because I couldn't grasp the idea that it was a concert and it was just a few hours of my life I'd spent somewhere, because it wasn't. It was the happiest I'd ever felt, I think, and there was no way I could get it back, because the strength of my memories were fading fast and every maths lesson and walk home from school was a reminder that it wasn't real, not quite.
Every night on Twitter, there were photos and videos from more shows from the tour and childishly, it only made me feel horrible and my stomach twist at the thought of not being there, like when I was a child, I hated watching the TV on New Year's Eve and I cried. I was at home, not in London with the fireworks.
But there was a solution, it was simple. I had to go again.
At that point in time, there were no other UK tour dates announced in the upcoming future (I had no idea a second leg of UK tour was happening) except there was a show in England in November time.
The only problem was that it was at the Royal Albert Hall.
My parents had shaken it off as a "No", and I accepted that for now. I had until November and I could work on it, but by April, as tickets started to sell out, I panicked. The time I chose to ask them again, God knows why, was in a cable car whilst we were skiing.
My mum was quick to tell me that my dad couldn't take me, it was on a Friday and he shouldn't have to spend his limited days off work doing this, and she couldn't take me either. They hated the idea of me taking a bus or train to London because, of course, they're all filled with murderers and rapists and things, or even being alone there because unlike the town we live in it has buildings larger than two stories and also a crime rate.
My dad vaguely understood, he has the same Thing with music, I think but tried to comfort me by telling me that he didn't go to concerts until he was eighteen. It made it worse. I didn't want to wait. Yes, I could do things when I was older too, but if I had the time and money and could get myself there, why should these strangers get to stop me? Why did I have to go on living like this another four years?
I don't ask for a lot from my parents. I wasn't asking for money or even for them to take me there. I was just asking for them to let me go.
And so, with vague hope, I went to my best friend, Poppy. She loves Imogen Heap too and she wanted to go, but I didn't really think her parents would take us. I only knew that, if push came to shove, she'd be willing to get on a train with me and just disappear to London for a night.
I just didn't really think we'd actually do it.
We had a long talk lying on her trampoline one Tueday afternoon, and she suggested asking her mum, who had a friend around there, if we could stay with her.
And then it all happened very quickly, because we actually could. As a birthday present, I bought Poppy the tickets and her mum got us a discount on the train.

On Royal Albert Hall Friday, it was also part of something called Curriculum Enrichment Week at school, where we wear non-uniform and don't do very much. I packed my bag for London and lined everything I needed up ready at the door. I started to walk to school, plugged my earphones in and started to play "Tidal". I got all the way to the end of my street before I realised I'd forgotten to take any bag at all to school, and I laughed out loud at myself right there in the middle of the street because I was so excited and emotional, there was nobody around, and I felt like I was going to melt into a puddle because of all the things I was feeling.
I didn't have a great morning at school; Curriculum Enrichment Week meant pointless lessons doing things like mummifying fish, Period 2 I spilt acid on my thumb and any time I moved my hand all day it stang. My friend told me to tell a teacher or go to the nurse, but I told him he was insane - surely, they'd send me straight to A&E and I'd spend an afternoon there, later and later for the 6:30 doors closing by the minute.
At 1:15 I came into afternoon registration trembling because I was about to do something badass, I've actually never missed school for a dentist appointment, so leaving midday seemed even more shocking. I gave the receptionist my note and was convinced she'd quiz me or would see something in me but she didn't, and as I got closer to and then passed the school gate, my sad, unexperienced heart was actually racing. I turned the corner, and for a few minutes, any passing cars would have seen a flapping flag of curly hair over a blurred high school uniform whiz down the main road. I got home, I got dressed and did my make-up super-fast, and by ten to two I was waiting outside the house with an umbrella and a suitcase.
Poppy was leaving school at 2, to look less suspicious, at about 2:01, I got paranoid because her mum and her weren't there yet. When they actually arrived, it was 2:10-ish I think. All the way to the station I was on edge. Ever two minutes I checked my bag to make sure that the tickets were still there. And they were.
We very almost missed the train: I would have run everywhere anyway, and I did so even more and I think it annoyed Claire no end. We made it in time, waited on the platform for a while and got coffee. Our train carriage was full of Italian football fans which was fun and interesting and annoying. I specifically remembering one large, muscular and rowdy Italian man falling asleep on his friend's shoulder. Poppy jokingly whispered to me, "Aww, gay men are cute.".
He opened one eye and beamed, looking straight at me (who he thought had spoken) and said in broken English, "No... not gay... he is... he is brother."
We laughed and said "Oh, ok,", then exchanged a Look.
The man opposite us on our table looked like the pixie from the TV show adaptation of Enid Blyton's "The Wishing Chair" and both of us noticed.
We played car games.
It was during NaNoWriMo, and I had my laptop and tried to write stuff, but for once I was too caught up in my life than in someone else's. It WON. So Poppy read some, and kept pointing out things that were situations we'd been in, or I had, some of which were more literal and I hadn't noticed. She was surprised because of how much more I'd used the word "fuck" that I do in real life.
The journey took way less than I expected, then we got to a large tube station (embarassingly, I don't know a lot of names of places in London) where there were also shops. Claire went into an Accesorise store to buy a present for Antonia, her friend who we were staying with, and Poppy and I waited outside. It was spacious, there were people passing swiftly with briefcases and suitcases and so we started singing an impromptu, acapella (though less awesome due to lack of numbers) performance of "Let Go" quite loudly to see if anyone stared at us.
They didn't. Because it's LONDON.
We took the tube a few stations, and being from a small town which is sort of in the country side, we offered up our seats to sweaty business men and women, and other strangers, who shoved past each other with elbows and gladly took them each time.
I like the tube a lot. It's strange.
We stopped at Antonia's house, their family friend who we were staying with. It was small and homely, there were books and movies everywhere. Her husband/boyfriend was there too, a Turkish man named Hassan, but his children weren't, for now. Poppy promised I'd like them even though I really hate little kids most of the time. (I actually don't nowadays, It's just babies).
We ate an entire pack of cheese twists on the couch, because we're teenage girls and we have hormones and hadn't eaten for a few hours. Antonia asked about the concert, who we were going to see.
"Imogen Heap!" we blubbered.
"I've never heard of her."
"No," I said. "You won't have done. She's awesome."
"Well, if she can fill the Royal Albert Hall."
We took the tube there and en route, I found a newspaper on the side of the fairly empty carriage. On one of the pages, I found a small piece about the Albert Hall show and tore it out and placed it in the envelope where my tickets were.
There was panic when we got to the tube station: we were late, there was a certain time in the first half of the show our tickets wouldn't be let into. And although half of the people I was with I didn't know that well, I wanted to yell at them because they weren't running, but I reigned it in and we got there, just in time. On the way through side streets, we got lost and I ran up to some strangers asking if they were going to see Immi. They were. I was so glad I laughed.
Note anything over-confident I did in this episode was because the whole night I was overemotional and crazy. It was everything I'd been waiting for for the last seven months.
I wish I'd walked up to the Royal Albert Hall slowly taking it in, like a kid on the run-up to the big pink Disneyland Paris castle, but I didn't, we ran. At the same time Poppy was having a fight with her mum, who was planning on asking the maitre d what time the show ended (it would be about 11, we'd told her to come for us at 1 so we could hang around and meet some awesome people). We ended up settling for 11:30, though later on bumped it up to 12.
They went off to a restaurant and this was it, we were on our way in and a woman was taking our tickets and we were in the lift with a couple in their mid-fifties. They were smiley and glamorous, and I squee'd at the idea that they were Immi fans and, so rarely, all of the people around me were.
We got to the top floor, ran to a way in which was the wrong one and to a second. Poppy laughed at me because I was sprinting everywhere.
And then we found the door and walked in to the Royal Albert Hall.
I wasn't sure what I'd imagined, but this was more. Mainly it was just much, much bigger. Did you know that there are around 140 billion galaxies, which is the number of frozen peas you can fit outside the Royal Albert Hall. The Royal Albert Hall is really, really, big.
There were big, pink mushrooms on the ceiling and the stage was tiny fron where we were sat. At the previous two Imogen Heap shows I'd been to were in university academy halls and there was one, big tree in the middle. Today we had the big tree and, around where the orchestra would be sat, smaller trees. I counted. There were ten in total.
And then, much quicker than I expected, Imogen walked on to the stage, dressed in sparkly conductor's attire, and Love The Earth film began.
She directed the crowd and for the first part, the whole of the top section was supposed to breathe outwards in a sort of Mexican wave and nobody close to us did except for Poppy and I, of course.
During Love The Earth I cried twice, and I don't know why. Two years ago, I wouldn't have listened to a piece of classical music all the way through, let alone been moved to tears.
A moment during in it, there was a clip of some sparkly water, just for a second, and I'm still not sure whether it was my clip I or not - I've no idea if they'd have contacted me or not, seeing as so many people's videos were included, and maybe I'll never find out, but I think that it could have been.
There was an interlude before the second half, which she'd said would be the "normal, Imogen Heap singer-songwriter part". Here's the time-lapse between the two.
And so, I gave Poppy the explanation that I owed her and she told me something which was a big deal to and I do hate talking like this here, but I sort of think of it as the closest to a heart-to-heart conversation that I've had, because right in the Royal Albert Hall, the moment we said it'd be for weeks, with two middle-aged men either side of us we blubbered away about relationships and sex and and love and stuff and didn't realise until afterwards just how many people had possibly been listening, and not out of choice.
I thought about all of the people I was in the same room as, a strange combination like my best friend and my favourite musician and Thomas Ermacora and people like my awesome friend Emily from Twitter. And there are others I know now were there and I didn't at the time, like Guy Sigsworth (we found out later in the show he'd been playing in the orchestra at the beginning!). Similar too, Immi's mum had been singing in the choir and this makes me smile.
When Imogen came on, I almost wasn't ready.
The first song she played was "The Walk", you hear the beginning and the time lapse. The second song was "Swoon", during which me and Poppy smiled and laughed, that day she'd learnt that the lyrics in a part in the middle of the song are nowhere near as meaningful or complex as she'd thought,
"This is where I was going to sing your name over and over again,
But I chickened out at the final minute, cause I thought you probably wouldn't like it."
Imogen was wonderful and lively and clever and talked about the songs and stories behind them a lot more than usual, she'd done the same the last time I saw her in Liverpool. During "Come Here Boy" she talked about a teacher she liked at music school, after this she played "Wait It Out", and talked about Zach Braff and Hawaii, and during the song both of us cried. The next song was "First Train Home", which as usual, got off to a bad start and then came out beautifully, and it sounded different to any other time I'd heard it. "Little Bird" was lovely, as was "Canvas" (in which I think she played a little of "The Fire") and I was glad she played "Aha!" - the second show I went to, she didn't. "Earth" was amazing, the first time I'd heard it, done all with voices and a brilliant beatboxer I didn't realise until after the show was Schlomo. I cried during "Speeding Cars" because of how appropriate it was at the time, "Let Go" was incredible, and special because we sang along and rocked out a little even though the people around us were sat still in their seats and listening, "Let Go" I think is the song that led me in.
I love "Just For Now", but I was a little disappointed in the Royal Albert Hall performace, not Immi's fault at all, it was just that the two shows I've been to audiences have sung along enthusiastically. I know that we were sat up and far away, but I almost wanted to say something to the peoples at around me for their disappointingly little amount of spirit.
I started filming a little of "Between Sheets" and I'll post it if I ever find it back, as with "Goodnight and Go" which is one of my favourite songs - Immi said that she didn't realise so many people liked it, and this shocked me no end. I may remember crying during this song as well.
I love "Headlock" live because it's so different and so much more drums and bass and piano than the album version, more a combination of strings and electronica, both are excellent for different reasons. Then she announced she was playing "Tidal", the last song with the band and I knew that it was coming to an end, it's always the fake last song before encores, but I didn't mind because I wanted afterwards to take how happy I felt out into the world. It's my favourite live, I think, and it didn't fail to disappoint, the keytar solo kicked ass.
She walked off then came back and played "The Moment I Said It" with just piano and drums, and it was beautiful, and then "Hide and Seek". Poppy was crying, because it was the last song, and I usually do at this point but I just sat and sort of absorbed it and I was in a trance the whole time we were walking out.
I don't remember the order the next few things happened, but I remember it going a bit like this.
We got to the door and I realised I'd left my umbrella inside, so we tried to go back and get it but they wouldn't let us in and instead we were directed the the stage door. We were waiting out there a long time and laughed about how accidentally lucky this was, imagining Imogen Heap emerging with the umbrella and saying "Is this yours?" but that didn't happen, instead a security guard thought we were creepy and made us leave, so we tried another desk and they didn't have it.
We gave up on my umbrella so started walking all away around the edge, from outside. It was pouring with rain, and on the way I stopped and bought a shirt. I think we'd agreed it wasn't likely we'd meet Imogen Heap tonight, and so as we passed the tour bus (I recognised it from outside the Liverpool show) Poppy decided to be badass and touch the tourbus.
And I know it isn't that awesome, but it seemed like a good think to do at the time and so I ran in the rain and touched the side and kept running and tried to feel adreneline like someone was chasing me.
And there's my claim to fame. I've touched Imogen Heap's tour bus.
After that we found a door where people were queuing outside, I asked a guy if they were waiting to meet Immi and he said yeah. He was American.
We waited there for a while, talked about all the stuff from before a little more, but it got to 12 and we had to leave before we turned into pumpkins or just before the last tube left, and so we ran to our friend.
Poppy said, "If she comes, tell her that Poppy and Lizzie give their love."
And he said, "Lizzie and who?"
"Poppy."
He smiled. "Ok. I will do."
And I high-fived him because I wanted to and we ran for the train and just made it.
We went home and Hassan talked to us about the show and gave us Turkish delight and I showed him my shirt.
Then all of them went to bed, Poppy and I settled on the couch and on the floor. I got out my laptop and I wrote to reach my target for NaNo that day and then we went to sleep.

The next morning their children were there, Adam and Marcus, and they were seriously lively considering one of them had been throwing up all night and watched TV with them. Poppy was right, I did like them. We went for a walk in the park, I accidentally flipped over a swing and hit my head (I didn't tell the kids that - they just saw me do a trick and thought I was awesome). Then I had my first ever lunch at Nando's and we got the train home.

That took two hours and fourteen minutes to write and I feel good now but I want to go to bed.
Goodnight.

- Lizzie

Cats, "The Disappearance of Alice Creed" and P4A

Callie is sat next to me, padding around and making mruh noises, because all of the thick white stuff outside makes her paws cold. The cats are fighting because they're bored and there isn't very much else to do.

I've been away from the internet for about two days now, mainly because I didn't really have anything I wanted to share with anyone, and so I kept away from Twitter and Facebook and here until I didn't have anything else to do.

Friday night was strange. In the time I'd spent being a teenager so far, I'd never been particularly drunk or smoked or other stuff that I'm supposed to screw up my youth by doing, until the other night when I suddenly tried a little too hard at being exciting and hardcore. Nothing very bad happened, just enough to make me realise that it's probably better to spend my free nights sat at home on my computer drinking mocha.
Is that bad?

The good news is that, The Things We Stumble Across/The Wall/my 75% written novel is safe! Two weeks or so ago, my beloved laptop took its fourth trip to our favourite repair shop after a virus from a chain email, and had to be wiped completley. I don't trust Norton very much, and I've lost a lot of random crap I'd written, and for a while I thought I'd lost my novel, until this morning I found a memory stick that it was on.
I am so, so thankful and relieved.

Last night I watched a movie called The Disappearance of Alice Creed and it was completley brilliant, and it scared me more than any film I've seen before. To begin, two men in balaclavas shop for some soundproofing in B&Q then kidnap a young girl. By the end, there's so much more reason to everything. It was extremely low budget, there were three actors we saw in the whole movie. It built up an incredible amount of tension and fear inside me, I remember sitting and trembling during one of the first few scenes. The plot and the characters' past is unravelled throughout the movie, with no flashbacks but simply conversation.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=oX-LOYRupUA
I also want you to watch this - one of my favourite musician's videos for something going on on Youtube called Project 4 Awesome. Kina Grannis is a brilliant singer-songwriter and also an incredible woman, and I really did cry watching this video, and it surprised me because although charities' causes have made me sad and sympathetic before I'm usually quite a heartless cow when it comes to crying, as I've mentioned a lot. After Christmas when I'm no longer broke, I really do plan to donate to LLS.

I hope you have a good week.

- lizzie