Author: birminghamreview

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Insurgent and Santù represent the second city’s rock and heavy metal scene at Birmingham Festival 2023

Pics by Nevaeh Anning

Birmingham Festival 2023 took over Centenary Square from 28 July to 6 August, showcasing arts, music, sports, and culture from across the second city – in a ‘joyous, fun and heartfelt homage’ to mark the anniversary of the Commonwealth Games 2022.

And why not? Even the hardened beating blob of the hardest of Brummie cynics (…me) melts a little when standing next to Ozzy the bull in New Street Station. Y’am reet proud of Brummagem bab.

Picking up the baton of Birmingham’s new rock and heavy metal, BIMM held a music showcase event in Centenary Square on Tuesday 2 August – handpicking some of their students to represent the new blood in the genre Birmingham is know the world over for: Insurgent and Santù. And when you run though the list of luminaries that came before, from Led Zeppelin to Black Sabbath, it’s a pretty exciting stage to stand/scream on.

Birmingham Review’s top draw rock and roll shutterbug, Nevaeh Anning, went along to capture some sterling pics for our pages – check out some selected snaps and a full picture gallery from each set below, enjoy.

Insurgent @ Birmingham Festival 2023 / Pics by Nevaeh Anning

With their debut EP, Sentient, available right now, Insurgent formed in 2019 – after meeting during their time at BIMM.

With band members from in and around Birmingham, and the odd interloper from Surrey, the rock four piece take a sharp stab at society’s all too often sheep mentality – with ferocious stage shows that “pack a punch.” Even if it means the occasional ill-timed entanglement, as Insurgent once told moshville.co.uk: “Katie’s dreadlocks once got stuck in Mike’s drum kit and she had to wait for him to get round to hitting that particular cymbal before being able to move again.”

Rock and fu*king roll; the show must go on.

Follow Insurgent on Instagram at www.instagram.com/insurgentmusic

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Santù @ Birmingham Festival 2023 / Pics by Nevaeh Anning

Having recently performed on the This Feeling stage at the recent Truck Festival in Oxfordshire – alongside the likes of The Assist, Gen & The Degenerates, The Velvet Hands, Eighty Eight Miles, Leah Wilcox, and Lock-In – Santù have been championed by BBC Introducing and many more.

Formed in 2021, the two circles of the celestial centre piece have been full of promise for the Birmingham born band – building up a solid fan base and industry attention since their debut at The Sunflower Lounge in Birmingham.

With influences from Aretha Franklin to Pink Floyd, watch out for the furry collars and on stage fury of Birmingham’s Santù.

 

For more from Santù visit www.linktr.ee/santuofficialuk

For more on BIMM visit www.bimm.ac.uk
For more on Birmingham Festival visit www.birminghamfestival23.co.uk

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‘Talk To Me’ – New Aussie Possession Horror Is A Brutal, Sharp, Crunchy Shock

Writer Jimmy Dougan (click here to follow at Letterboxd)/ Press images courtesy of Altitude Films

Look, here’s the deal: Talk to Me is one of the year’s best films.

It’s a remarkable feat of genre filmmaking which rightly made big waves at Sundance and the Berlinale, being tipped as the year’s big horror hit.

It’s also relentlessly scary. Aussie twins Danny and Michael Philippou initially gained notoriety on YouTube for their nightmarish short films produced under the handle RackaRacka. With Talk to Me they’ve made the sort of cinematic debut that dreams (nightmares) are made of, recalling Ari Aster’s Hereditary or Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook.

The premise is straightforward. A grieving 17-year-old, Mia (Sophia Wilde) abruptly comes across the means to communicate with spirits trapped in a kind of limbo. The ‘means’ takes the form of a human hand encased in white ceramic, which supposedly – and the film is unsettlingly vague on the details – belonged to a powerful medium. Despite knowing the risks involved, Mia grows increasingly desperate to seek closure from her mother’s suicide.

This is a brutal and shocking film, yet it makes insightful comments on an increasingly vacuous and screen-obsessed youth culture – whilst never feeling moralistic or condescending to its teenage characters. It feels contemporary in a way few horror films manage to be, and while some of its ambiguities intrigue as much as they frustrate, and the ending is sure to prove divisive, I’m hard-pressed to recall such an assured and startling piece of genre filmmaking.

Believe the hype.

The confidence the Philippou brothers direct with is evident from the film’s stunning opening. Cinematographer, Aaron McLisky, orchestrates a technically dazzling long take following a panicked young man through a packed house party as he frantically tries to locate his lacerated, traumatised brother. “Stop filming us,” he begs the crowd, illuminated starkly by camera flashes.

It would be criminal to spoil what then ensues and how it connects to the rest of the film, but the title card in my screening was accompanied by gasps of disbelief at how hard the film goes so quickly.

From here, Danny Philippou and Bill Hinzman’s script eases off a touch. We are taken through a series of quiet, measured scenes which establish that Mia is marking the anniversary of her mother’s suicide. Her relationship with her father is non-existent; the Philippous place him largely out of frame or literally out of focus in the background. She spends most of her time with surrogate 14-year-old brother Riley (Joe Bird) and his older sister Jade (Alexandra Jensen).

The script’s canniest idea is treating these fleeting spiritual encounters as a sort of viral craze, as the teens taking turns to be possessed. It’s treated as an addictive, drug-like sensation: their eyes dilate, jaws twitching. Afterwards they beat their chests, adrenaline-charged. It’s a sharp idea, raising provocative questions about chronically bored youth and the habit-forming lure of what really can hurt us.

From its opening, Talk to Me makes equally damning comments on our mean-spirited, spectacle-obsessed online landscape. One character is so embarrassed by what he does whilst possessed that he begs to have the footage deleted. Forget the demons, his parents seeing this is Hell in itself. And why do the events of the film even happen? I got the distinct impression it’s because in the ‘burbs there’s not a lot else to do.

It’s helped by the fact that the screenplay shows a genuine understanding of how young people communicate: not just what they say but the rhythms and cadence of how they say it.

When Talk to Me goes full tilt, at its midway, there’s little that can prepare you for the Philippous bone-crunching take on the possession genre. It is relentless and non-stop, the kind of horror that leaves you a little battered and bruised. There’s one sequence involving Riley that left me physically nauseous. And props to the sharp, snappy sound design from Emma Bortignon.

The creature designs are uniformly fantastic, too. The spirits are bloated and sweating. They grin nervously and crawl around like weird children, looking confused at having been summoned. One wears a tattered dress and pearls. What may be the spirit of Mia’s mother (Alexandra Steffensen) is often glimpsed in reflective surfaces and misted windows. It’s more frightening than any contrived jump scare – though they’re deployed to great effect, too.

It’s in the hallucinatory finale of Talk to Me that the storytelling falters, the non-stop carnage beginning to feel a little beyond the film’s initial focus on the power of social media and the seductive unknowability of what can hurt us. It all happens a bit too neatly, though the ending is suitably twisted. An unimaginably cruel punchline to a joke Mia – and to an extent us, the audience – weren’t in on.

But it’s all held together by Wilde’s central performance which is never anything less than totally heartrending. There’s a childlike quality to what she does, which grows with her desperation; simultaneously naïve yet always unsettlingly aware that she’s connected to something more powerful and stranger than she is. She’s the twisted, beating heart of this extraordinary and heart-pounding film.

Talk to Me – official trailer

Talk to Me releases in UK cinemas on 28 July, with Birmingham showings at the Mockingbird Cinema from 28 July and MAC from late August.

For full listings and links to online ticket sales visit: www.mockingbirdcinema.com/production/talk-to-me or www.macbirmingham.com/whats-on/cinema

To read more about Altitude Films go to: www.altitudefilment.com
To read more about Screen Australia go to: www.screenaustralia.gov.au
To read more about A24 go to: www.a24films.com

To follow our Birmingham Reviewer on Letterboxed click here, or search @jimmydougan 

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Saturday At Birmingham Pride

Writer Jasmine Khan / Photographer Mx Neffy

The main pride parade down New Street has become saturated with rainbow capitalism in recent years. It’s worth a quick look to spy Birmingham’s burgeoning queer talent, with House of Allure and Mobilise leading the charge. But as soon as I see privatised water systems responsible for mass sewage fumbles donning mushy performative slogans, it’s my cue to sashay home and prepare for the main event.

I know the layout of Pride changed from last year, the Community Stage has moved, and we’re a bit more packed in. But I hope that’ll add to the sense of pride and party.

It’s no surprise Hurst Street is lit by 3 pm.

The music’s loud and varies from early 90’s pop to early 2020’s pop. The food smells great.  People look fierce. And, every now and then, a particularly glamorous gay treats the main road like a runway – strutting, voguing, and posing as the rest of us fans obsess from the pavement.

It’s time to see some acts, and I know exactly who I’m going to take in first, Ryan Lanji. Ryan isn’t necessarily Birmingham-born-and-bred, but his dad is a certified Brummie so he still counts in my books. Ryan’s DJing today, but he also heads up Hungama, a queer South Asian collective based in London.

Last year, we were treated to a full set from the entirety of Hungama, a delight for any desi queer of which there (unsurprisingly) many in Brum Town. But this time, we’ve just got Ryan, not that he’s lacking.

Introduced by the ever-well-dressed and charismatic Char Bailey, Ryan’s set starts with heavy bass and then slowly introduces a romantic, melodic Bollywood tune playing over the top. The bass is like lead pulling you down, and the track on top is like a hot air balloon pulling you up, up, and away into the spectacular Saturday sun.

In the VIP section, my hips roll. I’m twirling my hands, spinning in circles, stamping and kicking my feet in time with the bhangra crossed with DnB. It’s truly a moment of realisation – just like last time – for my little Pakistani self to dance to music that speaks to my desi culture and sends love to me at Pride.

My eyes have been closed for a while. It’s a particularly filthy mix and requires my full attention. But when I open them, I’m disappointed by what I see – a selection of white girls melting like ice creams in the sun, sitting down against the barriers at the front of the stage with their backs turned to Ryan.

To me, it’s disrespectful. No one’s making you listen and no one’s surprised that the bhangra didn’t bang for you. But you can leave, don’t stay with your back turned to the artist, sitting on the floor and killing the vibe. You don’t realise how rare a vibe it is…

Then, it dawns on me, VIP definitely doesn’t stand for very important POC. There are no people who aren’t white here. Not unless they’re a performer, me, or my photographer, Neffy. I wouldn’t mind as much if people were attempting to get into the groove, even a measly try at screwing in the light bulb while patting the dog would be appreciated.

It’s early, and I’ll admit members of my community are notoriously late to a party, but having a VIP section at Pride gives me the ick full stop. With weekend tickets costing just under £60 and single-day Pride access costing over £40, an additionally expensive and exclusive VIP section doesn’t spread the feelings of togetherness and belonging I’d hoped to encounter.

Now I’ve thought about money, I seem to see it everywhere. Walking through the main arena, a growing list of corporate sponsors assert their presence amongst the ‘Dicks on Sticks’ stand and intersectional flags, joining Pride’s notoriously queer main sponsor, HSBC. There’s a place to sign up for the Lidl Plus App. Jaguar are flogging a car…

It’s too much, tacky, and not giving me queer at all. But, it is giving charity because last year Pride raised a whopping “excess of 400k for LGBTQ+ projects, plus above £105k in additional subsidies for LGBTQ+ organisations.” So, maybe people think it’s justified?

I persevere to the dance tent to lighten up a bit, catch up with Neffy, and get lost in the beat. Lauren Goulder, DJ and footballer, is cranking some housy DnB, and it’s exactly what I need to groove the grump away.

We pop to the Conrad Guest Cabaret Stage, and I definitely don’t bitch about the weird VIP section, which acts as a three-metre deep distancing zone between the performers and their crowd 99 percent of the time. I’m only around for an act or two, and I don’t manage to catch names, but the Cabaret stage really satisfies the closeted GCSE drama/theatre gay that secretes within.

We can’t be late for RuPaul’s UK Drag Race season four winner, Danny Beard. It’s back to Main Stage, and, unsurprisingly, Danny is the fabulous enby legend we all expect them to be. For their first song, Danny murders Adele in their crow-inspired floor-length gown, and not murder in the way you or I would murder it, murder it as in they absolutely killed in.

Not just a looks queen – but definitely still a looks queen – it’s worth mentioning for those who don’t know Danny – they are singing live, and their voice sails across the summer breeze. Their firm and sassy, but still kind, stage presence reminds me for some reason of Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way.

The crowd gets some ABBA and a duet with Birmingham’s very own Fatts Butcher. Danny takes time to shout out to their “Gays”, “Lesbians”, “Bis and Pans”, and ‘Trans/Non-Binary siblings” individually. The ‘Bis and Pans’ receive a solid boo from the crowd, which is definitely biphobic, but also a bit valid because we can be pretty trash.

Danny, a bit lost for words and slightly stressed, sighs, “Common now.” and “It’s Pride…” shaking their head. I’m laughing, but my friend looks a bit downtrodden at the crowd’s bi-beratement.

Neffy lets me know they’re heading over to directly pinpoint the Carlos Medina Community Stage to get a good spot. I take a nose at the facilities after I’ve finished dancing to Danny Beard’s tremendous set.

The toilets are delightful, plentiful in loo roll, and gender neutral, and the drinks aren’t too expensive either. I know I’ve probably missed House of Allure and Cake Boi, who I can solidly say are worth going to see, but I’m hoping to catch Kenya Knott and Donna Trump, so it’s time for me to hit the Community Stage.

Texting Neffy, they can’t locate it – strange.

Neffy tells me the stage in front of Nightingale Club is being taken down as we speak, which doesn’t make sense because it’s only 8pm, and the Community Stage is being moved. Neffy walks around the corner and then gets redirected to the Future Stage, assured that it’s becoming the Community Stage.

I meet them there, and we wait for a bit. Some DJs are spinning good tunes, but the tent’s pretty empty. We proceed to wander around aimlessly, looking for signs and asking around after our local legends. Maybe things are running late at the Future Stage and soon queens will appear, so we wait for a bit.

It hits 9 pm, then almost 9:30 pm. We’ve all started sitting down and leaning on things, and everyone’s miffed to have walked out of the main arena and rolled around like lemons for the past hour and a half.

We’re a bit DJ-ed out for Jodie Harsh, and the Sugar Babes are a while away now. I jokily remind Neffy that all pictures taken of the iconic British trio must be approved by management first, and we both roll our eyes.

Deciding to conserve energy, we depart and I enjoy ‘Push the Button’ as it blares through my open bedroom window back in Balsall Heath, dreaming about the very best of Birmingham, the one the only Mx. Black Peppa, who I’ll witness live and in the flesh on Main Stage tomorrow.

Saturday @ Birmingham Pride 27.05.23 / Mx Neffy

For more from Birmingham Pride go to: www.birminghampride.com

For more from House of Allure go to: www.instagram.com/_houseofallure_

For more from Mobilise go to: www.fattprojects.org
For more from Ryan Lanji go to: www.ryanlanji.com
For more Lauren Goulder go to: www.instagram.com/laurengoulder0
For more from Danny Beard go to: www.linktr.ee/TheDannyBeard
For more from Fatt Butcher go to: www.linktr.ee/fattbutcher

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Friday & Sunday At Birmingham Pride

Writer Yasmyn Nettle / Photography Jessica Whitty

My whirlwind journey starts with a relatively pleasant community event on Friday. Free to attend – I leisurely mill around, gather with friends, hold hands, sing, and find space to dance.

Crip Ladywood co-hosts the main stage. Drag King Crip is becoming a firm staple, known for hosting a supportive space for upcoming drag talent at the Loft. Fatt Butcher also runs local community events, most notably Mobilise, at the Exchange. Both are warm and welcoming co-hosts today. We light candles, holding a vigil for our passed trans siblings.

I go away with a sense of eerie foreboding about Sunday.

My worry prickles as I look through Pride’s website. No timed line-up, light font on a light background, and key information is hidden in chunks of text.  I follow instructions to ‘check their socials.’ Their link to Instagram produces a 0 post, no-profile, no-photo account with the bio ‘Spring.’

What is going on?!

I start my Sunday at the Back to Backs. I’m here for Queer Reading Festival The Brum Buzzcut, run by Back to Books. Zine making, poetry readings, queer books abound – it is an oasis of creative calm. Entry into the heritage site is included which is just lovely.

I head through to the ‘Street Party’ element of Pride, taking place in and outside venues of the Gay Village.

The schedule, for some confounding reason, is split into two slots of three hours, and two slots of two hours. Some slots have one act, and some have up to four. Any monkey can guess as well as me when acts are expected, and I’m supposed to be a clever monkey!

I hate waiting, but more than that, I hate not knowing how long I’ll have to wait.

The first main stage act is two hours late. Pride sponsors get an extra two hours of ad time I suppose. They could display a clarifying message, a revised line-up (which the stagehands have) or an apology. Instead, we are forced to see the same ads. An emaciated woman, companies wishing us a great Pride, cheap insurance. Not great.

Sweet Female Attitude brightens me, I get up and dance to a nostalgic old-school garage set. They are fun and energetic, singing over ‘Put Your Back in It’ by DJ Flex. The reprise ‘Put your back in it! Just a little more!’ could be heeded by Pride organisers.

I wander over to the Cabaret stage, which would be better as a more intimate affair (the tent, at best, is never more than a quarter full.) I have no idea who might be performing, with no clarity of timetable. The stage manager Marty Smith is great, joking and singing with the audience between sets. I sneak backstage to watch their skillful organising of the drag talent. Fabulous!

Donna Trump, it turns out, is on stage as I arrive – this Kingstanding local has an amazing singing voice. She treats us to a singalong of ‘Sex on Fire’ by Kings of Leon which the crowd belts.

The dance tent has the best vibe – when I want to boogie I slip into the crowd, trusting whichever DJ happens to be on the decks and it opens its VIP section, meaning all revellers can have bass in their faces for the rest of the day.

Back to the main stage to see Black Peppa. They are due to be on at some point between 5 pm and 7 pm, and the first listed of three acts. Five comes and goes before six ticks by. Still no Peppa.

Liberty X is on the main stage an hour early instead. A beautiful trio for the girls, guys, gays and theys. Crowd pleaser ‘Little Bit’ is the first song, and we are reminded that in the year of our lord 2023 we celebrate 22 years of Liberty X. The sun comes out for their performance and shines on their metallic capes.

I am not sure how I feel about Caity Baser, who is not who I’m here to see. The more time I spend watching acts I do not like, the less time I spend reviewing Birmingham-based talent.

I am crabby.

The people standing behind me know all of Baser’s songs. Lyrics such as “waiting all day for the night” are just one example of crummy lyrical prowess. The production, featuring big names like Digital Farm Animals, feels generic and forced.

I plan next to see Yshee Black on the Carlos Medina Community Stage. But the stage is nowhere to be found (again). Even security at the main venues has no idea where it is, sending our poor scout (the editor, Jaz) on a wild goose chase through the Gay Village.

The acts on the community stage seem to have disappeared into thin air. And what a shame.

Black Peppa finally makes an appearance, their two backup dancers look exhausted. Did the rehearsals go on too close to call time? Or was there some sort of backstage hanky panky I was not privy to?

Peppa starts off commanding the stage with a Beyonce medley lip-sync. I am disappointed by the distinctly mild energy from the crowd.

Black Peppa introduces us to James Indigo, in matching black and yellow with Peppa’s third outfit change, which I must say is very cute. Peppa and their crew leave the stage without a peep to the audience after their short 15-minute slot.

If I feel chaos and confusion as a punter, I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for the performers today. An act not even on the line-up, GUSTAH, was on for what felt like 40 minutes and our QUEEN Black Peppa humbles the stage for a mere 15 minutes.

I have to take a break – I am disoriented, disheartened, and displeased.

I make my way back through the concrete border to the main stage for Gabrielle. She serves us a very stylish striped rainbow dress and performs looking fabulous and sounding great with that unmistakable voice. The backing instrumentalists and singers are responsive, you can feel they make a good team.

Gabrielle’s voice is crystal clear and she gives a sleek and polished show. Performing Sunshine, Dreams – all of the gooduns.

By the end of the night, my autistic self has to sit with headphones in an empty meet-and-greet tent. It seems that physical disabilities are catered for at pride – but not neurodiverse disabledness, people who may need somewhere away from loud noise, bright light, and crowds.

Not even an ear plug was on offer, let alone a chill-out space.

Overall, Birmingham Pride sponsored by HSBC does not feel made for me, or the everyday Queer community. This pride feels more like a convenient money-making scheme and does the bare minimum to accommodate us.

In the UK we accept that borders are inevitable – we show ID to vote, pass through train station gates, have bags checked at clubs, or have a passport stamped to enter a country. There are borders everywhere. The shutting off of the streets for Birmingham Pride, and the paid entry to the concrete Smithfield site is an erection (ha) of more artificial borders in the name of Gay Pride.

As a queer person, I do not have any pride in borders. Houseless people swept off the streets, police everywhere, and gouged prices are not my Pride.

I’m left feeling angry and overwhelmed. This was supposed to be a protest, not a place for a captive audience to be stuck in advertising hell. We deserve better.

Friday & Sunday @ Birmingham Pride 26 & 28.05.23 / Jess Whitty

For more from Birmingham Pride go to www.birminghampride.com

For more of Crip Ladywood go to www.cripladywood.com
For more of Fatt Butcher go to www.fattprojects.org

For more from the Back to Backs go to www.nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/birmingham-west-midlands/birmingham-back-to-backs

For more from Back to Books go to www.inktr.ee/Backtobooks
For more from  Miss Marty go to www.instagram.com/missmarty1973
For more from Sweet Female Attitude go to www.open.spotify.com/artist
For more from Donna Trump go to www.linktr.ee/DonnaTrumpUK
For more From Caity Baser go to www.open.spotify.com/artist
For more from Black Peppa go to: www.instagram.com/iamblackpeppa

For more from Gabrielle go to: www.gabrielle.co.uk

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SANITY Releases Summertime Staple, ‘Late Night’ – out from 30 June

Words by Jasmine Khan / Profile pics by Connor Pope

Starting out as a grime artist, cutting her teeth in the school playgrounds of Stockland Green, local MC and hip hop artist, SANITY, is releasing her new single – ‘Late Night’, out from 30 June

An easy-grooving summer tune, ‘Late Night’ is far from her heavy 140 roots. Here SANITY’s musical style jives into a jazzier, melodic hip hop wave, following in the footsteps of ‘Grass is Greener’ – a track she released earlier this year.

Including features from Blue Lab Beats and MELONYX, SANITY’s latest release is the second track in an extended project showcasing the multi-genre musician’s artistic talents and recently refined jazz influences.

‘Late Night’ begins with rolling drum beats, a catchy snare, and tingling piano keys, caught up in a warm evening breeze. The along comes SANITY’s refreshing flow, like a cool sip of sweet lemonade. She raps about motives at dusk, the recreational pursuits that typically tempt as the sun goes down; smoky flirtations and casual conversations are the blessings that keep the blues of monotonous working life at bay.

“If it’s hot girl summer, I wanna embrace it.”
“From am to pm, we can’t waste it.”

Underneath SANITY’s rhythmic rapping, there’s a lazy swing beat and complex piano chords saunter about, occasionally flouting their virtuoso, then humbly teetering off. Their end makes way for near perfectly placed summertime vocals courtesy of MELONYX.

Her voice is the kind that makes you get up off your deck chair and tipsily wind your waist, still holding a half-full cup of something crisp and full of ice.

There’s a gloopy breakdown, and you’re lost momentarily in the smell of BBQ smoke, perfume, and gentle perspiration.

Then the trumpets…? They’re divine.

As ‘Late Night’ progresses, SANITY’s jazzier elements heat up, building a crescendo behind lyrics that speak both to the carefree fun of a late summer night spent in good company and to deeper themes. The track reflects on what it means to be present in – to enjoy and have gratitude for – the moment we’re living in.

Put it on your summer party playlist, mix it with your drink, but most importantly, move to it.

‘Late Night’ – SANITY ft. Blue Lab Beats & MELONYX

For more from Sanity visit www.sanitythemc.com or click here to read her LOCAL PROFILE with Erdington Local.