Wet Leaves

I’d never considered leaves dangerous before around two weeks ago when I went straight on my arse down Parsonage Road.
The street leads to my house from Withington and is by it's very nature leafy. This in itself is nothing strange.
In fact, many of our country’s streets are lined with silent deciduous sentinels, patiently enduring the temperamental seasons, accepting fair and foul without complaint.
Autumn arrives and most trees die. I mean, not die, but they look like death. Dark and skeletal they become; lifeless, featureless husks, old as the year itself.
At their feet they shed their summer coat, by which I mean of course, their leaves. (deadly leaves?)
Wet autumn leaves remind me of the cornflakes in the bottom of your bowl, all stuck together, soggy and deeply unappealing.
The pavement along Parsonage Road is poorly maintained and my footwear was in hindsight completely inappropriate.
The Fred Perry pumps had been purchased enthusiastically, but were not intended as a working man’s shoe, and the feeble grids on the sole had capitulated long ago.
Surprisingly, considering I’m very tall and have a centre of gravity where most people’s head belongs, I don’t fall over often, and so it came as a huge shock to me.
As my right foot planted on a sideways incline in the uneven pathway, it lost all friction thanks to the aqueous foliage, and sliced violently across my left foot, taking that with it as it flew skywards and thus sending the opposite end of my body hurtling towards earth.
I’d been carrying shopping…
I landed on my right flank, my left hand and my right elbow all at once. My immediate thought was, “My tomatoes are on the floor,” but then I realised I was bleeding profusely from a cut on my hand.
The bleeding hand grabbed the tomatoes, and with my good hand clutching both shopping bags I hauled myself to my feet.
I HAD been seen. “Are you alright?” said this guy, a young guy, probably a student. He’d tell his flatmates about it when he got home and they’d have a laugh at my expense. That’s okay.
“Fine, thanks,” I replied, raising the bleeding hand a little in acknowledgement.
I wasn’t fine, I was in a lot of pain. Not like a woman in labour, or a soldier, but in a normal, everyday kind of a way. On the everyday pain scale it was an eight out of ten.
There’s nothing he could do about that though. Maybe give me a friendly hug or something, but that would have been awkward.
I stumbled the short distance home. I’ve got some new work shoes now, and I treat wet leaves like ice, bending my knees and walking slowly across them or walking on the road in order to avoid them altogether.
If you see me acting strangely around wet leaves, or cornflakes, hopefully you’ll be sympathetic.

Calicade – Done With City Point (review)

Calicade – Done With City Point

Self Released


Thanks to its grey skies and violent nightlife, Manchester has mainly spent the noughties developing a habit of producing raucous metal bands…just as one might expect from a city with a reputation for drug fuelled indie rock, I suppose.
Calicade, with their debut full length Done With City Point continue the trend to an extent, but there’s a bit more to their sound than the usual shout n’ thrash fare.
They sound accomplished musically, to the extent one could fairly compare their riffs to the complex chopping of Parkway Drive. But while the beast has a metal hide, its heart is hardcore, with Comeback Kid’s gutsy gang vibe seeping through.
Frontman Daniel Tetlow’s voice is somewhat unconventional for this family of music in that he produces more of a yell than a roar, giving him a distinctive, if slightly unstable quality. Sometimes it works well and offers a raw, unleashed feel to the band, although on occasional it seems like he’s straining to make himself heard in the mix.
Atmospheric breakdowns and interludes are nothing new in metalcore but Calicade perform them well, with ex-Pendleton drummer Jason Gough’s accomplished skin-thumping carrying the songs majestically along.
Another nice touch are the poppier overtones of the music. Again the odd earnest clean vocal amid the metal is something we’ve come to expect, but Calicade throw interesting, well though out slices of melody over their sound, a step up from the usual bleating Americanised smush.
The occasionally stereotypical and slightly repetitive nature of some of the tracks betrays the fact that there is still work to be done on this band, but for a first (and self-produced) album this very much suggests there is more to come from these boys.
Leave out the vocoder bit in the next album though, please!


Done With City Point will be released on Spotify and iTunes this month.



By Alex Phelan

Is United's Empire Crumbling?

Manchester United was, up until recently, a bastion of power in the Premiership.
It was the prevailing superpower and Sir Alex Ferguson its unshakable Churchillian leader. Suddenly a shadow has been cast over Old Trafford and even the clubs own fans, famous for their (justified) cockiness, seem increasingly concerned.
Debt has hung over the Red Devils in recent years, and while this in itself is not so strange (few top flight clubs are not in the red to some extent) owners the Glazer family’s problems seem to have become increasingly grave.
Recent reports suggest interest rates on the Glazer’s PIK debts have risen from 14.25 to 16.25 percent, and whilst chief executive David Gill maintains these are saddled with the Glazers themselves, Manchester United Supporters Club (MUST) have noted that a clause in the club’s recent refinancing exercise allows £95 million to be drawn from the club.
Duncan Drasco, chairman of MUST, said: "We believe in the next 12 months accounts will start to show them taking even more money out of our club.
"They have already wasted more on interest and fees than the total sum of all season ticket money paid by every supporter in their entire five-year ownership.”
Speaking of which, season tickets are another matter for concern. Only 51,800 of the club’s 54,000 sales target has been achieved this season, this despite a price freeze. The fact the club chose not to increase prices, as in recent consecutive seasons, suggests Manchester United knew trouble was ahead. Gill has maintained that in the current financial climate they can expect to take a hit, but rivals Chelsea, Manchester City, Spurs and notably Arsenal, with their stadium of comparable size, have all sold out of season tickets. Plus, weren’t we in a recession last year?
Another issue putting Mancunian noses out of joint is the failure to significantly strengthen the team over the summer. Despite a commendable campaign last season the squad has never recovered from the loss of Ronaldo and Tevez.
Giggs and Scholes continue to perform but at their age won’t play every week, and the likes of Gibson and Obertan simply do not bare comparison. The fact that Ferguson seems to constantly rotate his midfield, with Fletcher being the only ever-present, may come across as a display of squad depth, but equally suggests a lack of confidence.
Mexican prodigy Hernandez has been touted as a coup, the unique discovery who will propel the club back to the top, but few can predict how he will fair in the demanding Premier League, himself being very young and inexperienced.
Meanwhile, at the back, Chris Smalling has been added but again he is a player for the future and his real potential still has a big question mark over it. Johnny Evans does not yet look like Ferdinand’s replacement, and Ferdinand himself has developed chronic injury problems. Van Der Sar is still a world class keeper but at 40 years old this could easily be his last season.
Elsewhere, Manchester United players are making the headlines for all the wrong reasons.
Portuguese acquisition Bebe was previously in the news as Sir Alex had supposedly never seen him play. Most managers will probably read that and tell you it happens more than you think, and that’s why they have highly paid scouts.
However the plot thickened when reports came through of the forward being pulled from training sessions due to lack of fitness (despite having played 6 pre-season matches in Portugal) and subsequently not making the cut for the Champions League squad.
For midfielder Owen Hargreaves, further treatment seems like a delaying of inevitable retirement. He suffered a relapse in his ongoing knee problem this summer, which renowned surgeon Dr Richard Steadman has described as the worst tendinitis he has seen in his 35 year career.
Sir Alex Ferguson has always been synonymous with everything about Manchester United; drive, devotion, and bullishness are all words that could describe both club and manager. But, as if unable to separate from the plight of his employers, the great Fergy has recently dampened his reputation.
A petty and costly quibble with the BBC is the last thing the club needs at the moment, but the Scotsman’s six year boycott of the channel now contravenes new Premier League rules, and will lead to fines and perhaps further punishment if it should continue.
Apart from success, Manchester United have consistently silenced their doubters over the years. If they do not on this occasion, we could be witnessing the beginning of the end of a footballing empire’s golden era.

Liverpool's Dying Core

Jose Mourinho commented this week that Liverpool FC have been in progressive state of decline since 2004.
This is a silly thing to say, because in 2009 their final position in the Premiership table was second, only four points shy of title winners Manchester United. That was their highest finish since 2002 when they were runners up to Arsenal.
In 2004, the year Mourinho cites as their recent zenith, they finished 4th and trophy-less, and despite winning the Champions League the following season they fell to 5th in the league. Since then: 3rd, 3rd, 4th, 2nd….7th.
Hang on, apart from last year you could be forgiven for thinking they’ve made considerable progress here. Never in the nineties did they so consistently figure amongst the elite of the top four. Last season’s theatrical implosion went against the grain didn’t it?
Whilst it’s definitely fair to say that the overall quality and amount of stars in the squad has depleted under the tight pockets of Hicks and Gillett, Benitez was a good enough manager to make the most of his limited resources.
Comparisons to her peers show Liverpool’s squad to be desperately lacking in depth over recent years and it’s a wonder that the cracks didn’t start to show much sooner. The Kop owes a great debt to the Spaniard.
The real problem Liverpool faces today is that it has all of a sudden lost its core, and in a fast, physical league you need that or else you will struggle.
Lampard and Essien, Scholes and Fletcher, Fabregas and Song....a strong core means two world class players which the rest of the team can rotate around and depend upon. Neither player is a defender or an attacker but together they can perform both roles whilst always finding teammates with that all important pass.
In 2009 the superb Alonso left Liverpool for Madrid and was never replaced. Half the core was gone and the following season they became a mid-table team.
On Monday they faced Sheik Mansour’s mega-spenders Manchester City, themselves gifted a core so potent and capable it is quite terrifying. De Jong, Barry, Yaya Toure and Milner all feature.
Mascherano’s head had been turned by Barcelona…he didn’t play and Liverpool were left with Lucas and Gerrard in the engine room. The former is a hard worker but not skilled or imaginative enough to rely upon so heavily. The latter has become an attacking player in recent times, and was quickly found out by the opposition having been asked to switch duties.
With the current owners seemingly unwilling to sell the club and everyone else unwilling to bid, Liverpool’s cashflow problems don’t look set to improve, and new manager Roy Hodgson has his work cut out if he is to even match the consistency Benitez somehow achieved.
Meanwhile, key striker Torres has been seemingly operating at fifty percent capacity since mid way through last season. Joe Cole seems a decent signing and his attacking presence will allow Gerrard to become re-accustomed to a central role, but this transition will take time, and when the captain inevitably picks up an injury then the wheels will unfortunately and completely fall off for Liverpool.

My letter of complaint to ITV.

Dear ITV,


I've restrained myself from writing to you for as long as possible, but I can no longer contain my frustrations at the appalling manner with which your chief World Cup commentary duo of Peter Drury and Jim Beglin have conducted themselves throughout this tournament.

The final straw came during today's match between Italy and Slovakia when, upon the referee whistling for the end of the game, Drury chose to announce that the careers of Italy's captain Fabio Cannavaro and manager Marcello Lippi had just been "terminated".

Given that we are talking here about two of the most decorated and well respected figures in both Italian and World football, I don't think it is unfair to accuse Drury of being both embarrassingly theatrical and completely out of line.

But this was simply the latest in a series of symbolically unprofessional performances from your football mouths, and it is Drury himself who above all others who leaves me and all my friends and colleagues aghast - how such a hideous man be employed as someone the audience wants, NEEDS to actually relate to?

All he wants is a soundbite! He wants to be Kenneth Wolstenholme.........I am completely certain that if Rooney were to be storming goalwards when we were already 3-2 up against the Germans on Sunday he would actually started saying, "They think it's all over!!" His egomaniacal sensibilities are revolting. Never can he simply allow the match unfolding before him to flourish and paint its own picture, framed by informative and relevant comments (something which the BBC manage on at least a far more consistent basis than ITV can even dream of).

He INSISTS upon leaving his imprint by babbling hysterically some kind of interminable claptrap that he hopes will be played over and over on future re-runs, allowing him to cross his arms and crease his face with the smuggest of grins. How selfish, how hideous! This isn't about any one player, or any one team, or any one nation.......it's about the whole world coming together and celebrating the beautiful game. So it's definitely not about one commentator (and even more definitely not about an absolutely terrible one).

Beglin is shocking as well but to be quite frank you must have been told that so many times by so many people that it goes without saying.


I sincerely hope you've received many more complaints like this one, so that maybe, just maybe you'll consider ousting that ridiculous man from his position.


Yours sincerely,


Alex Phelan, Manchester.

Wenger's Wrongs

Stubborn people are hugely frustrating. As a stubborn person myself, I have observed my friends’ faces drop with exasperation as I again dismiss their solid, well thought out argument rather than at least partly entertain it.

This trait, along with a love of late-renaissance Italian loft conversions, I share with Arsene Wenger.

He’d rather fail than change. After all, how could he be wrong? He’s studied at great length every league in Europe from the bottom to the top every day of his life since he was three and a half, has a PhD in footballology and listens to re-runs of radio commentary from Ligue 3 games through headphones whilst sleeping in an oxygen chamber.

He is the Einstein of football, a sporting scientist to the purist, most devoted degree. If football had a bible, he’d burn it.

So maybe it’s Faith he’s missing.

Some things cannot be explained, and are not always what they seem. Space, deep sea ocean life, the hidden functions of the brain, and female intuition: these are just a few examples.

Wenger has the following theory:



RVP x Cesc / 4-3-3 + Nasri squared = the square root of Arshavin



Now if we count ‘RVP’ as 1 and ‘Nasri’ as the provider of the assist, then Arsenal should, obviously, win every match they play. But they don’t.

This is because football is played by humans, creatures far too complicated to apply logic and scientific reasoning to.

Psychology, Wenger’s least favourite subject at school, also has its part to play, as well as certain other truths rooted in common law, dismissed from Wenger’s progressive school of thought for being ‘too boring’. Par example:

“If one man should jump at the same thyme a fellow man should jump, and the first man is taller, it is the first who’s forehead glances the leathersphere toward the onion bag…………so sayeth the Lord. Amen.”

Let’s apply some common truths and psychology to Arsenal.

Truths

1. If you don’t shoot, you won’t score.

2. If you don’t stay goal side, you can’t defend.

3. If you can’t beat your man in the air, he will get to the ball first.

4. If they always beat their man in the air, your team won’t score headers.

5. If you can’t beat the first man with a cross, don’t bother trying.



Psychology

1. If they score first, it makes the game twice as hard, never let that happen.

2. If your defenders have no faith in their keeper, they will lose confidence in themselves.

3. If your midfield has no confidence in your defence, they will lose confidence in themselves.

4. If your strikers have no confidence in the midfield, they will have no confidence in themselves.

5. If you’re 28 and five foot nothing, and have to constantly try and create space by running like a madman the entire game only to ultimately be barged off the ball by two great hulking defenders who are watching you like a hawk, it’s going to make your head drop.


More could be applied. The point is Wenger has to look beyond the factors that come up in sour-faced post match interviews.

It wasn’t so much the second goal that defeated us as the first. We weren’t concentrating on the first ball into the box but apart from that we played well. They played a physical game and marked our players well.

Do those phrases sound like something you need a PhD in footballology to work out?

No. Because they’re chop-smackingly OBVIOUS.


Remember that Chris Rock sketch about mothers who say, “I look afta ma kids!” and Chris’ response is, “YOU’RE SUPPOSE TA!”

Well Wenger, “YOU’RE SUPPOSE TA!”

Your team is supposed to always concentrate, always make life difficult for the players who are supposed to be marking them, suppose to take their chances, defend corners and complete crosses. These are the basics and Arsenal are in the top class doing advanced studies alongside clever kids like Barcelona, when they’re still struggling with their ten times table.

I love this team and their manager, and I know we can be successful again….but how I wish Wenger knew the solution to his problems is as plain as the nose on his face.

The January Transfer Window!

The January Transfer Window (JTW) has, like the last day of her big sister summer’s existence, promised much and delivered little. Hyped and anticipated as a period of transition and change it has delivered uncertainty, confusion and tedium.
Manchester City were hotly anticipated to spend as frivolously as ever, yet having at time of writing just about wrapped up the capture of Patrick Vieira from Inter Milan, they have announced no more players will come or go.
Whilst in one sense it is reassuring that despite their resources they are not throwing money around, Mancini’s choice seems bizarre. Vieira is 33, out of form and out of favour in Italy.
City already have De Jong, one of the success stories of the season, protecting their back four, a job which Kompany can also handle comfortably.
“B….but…”, City splutter, “He won titles with Arsenal, Juventus (kind of) and Inter, and he’s got loads of experience! And he worked under Mancini once already!”
All true. But what does it mean now? Arsenal are a whisper away from second place in the Premiership with a squad which, compared to City, are complete rookies.
Yes experience is important, but you can’t measure it out in the same way as talent. “Vieira may not have the speed and ability of Messi, but he’s got experience!” Wow, put me down for three please.
Talking of Arsenal, how I dread this times. Wenger won’t even allow us to dream, snaffling out any pesky rumours of us signing a star forward with a weary, “I like the player, but we could not sign him,” followed by a shrug.
Instead he drags long term targets around like a pretty drunk girl staggering across the dancefloor, dragging her expensive coat through beer and sick and trying to find the door.
She makes occasional smiles and signals which the rest of us lap up gleefully, convinced something incredible is going to happen, and then she just ends up stuffing a number just about containing six zeroes in your pocket and getting a taxi, and we have to wait three years before Nasri hits form.
Fergy behaves admirably at these times, signing the one or two players he wants quickly and smoothly and then shutting the fuck up about it. He allows the papers to speculate and gesticulate wildly and gets on with doing his job. United will sign no one during JTW’s visit.
Chelsea always seem to be the side that the great and good of European football want to go to. Other English teams are too English, like gravy and mining, apart from Arsenal who don’t have any money.
If they manage to get Sergio Aguero, they’ll have done well. He’s young, seems like a lovely lad by all accounts and he can’t half kick a football. But Chelsea have the resources to win the league this season and Ancelotti, a man who does not seem like he tolerates many fools let alone the JTW, knows this.
So what else? Benitez has shown yet again that he is a terrible businessman by selling another flop at a big loss, this time the blundering Andrea Dossena. These kind of actions leave the Spaniard with 10p and half a polo to spend, which they will use to purchase Maxi Rodriguez from Athletico Madrid.
Alex McLeish has been handed a king’s ransom with which to bolster Birmingham City’s title push, and the Scot has, in his wisdom, deemed Darren Bent’s understudy Kenwyn Jones worthy of 11 of these millions. Blimey.
Old man Redknapp has managed to keep his massive jowly mouth surprisingly shut so far but it can only be a matter of time before he starts grooming someone like Matthew Upson on the internet, asking if he’d like to take off his kit and put on Uncle Harry’s special white shirt.
Martin O’Neill is too worried about players leaving to sign anyone. He is an excitable, slightly edgy Irish man and it’s very important that he keeps his squad together. Aston Villa will do fine this season.
Roy Hodgson is a sensible man who manages a sensible football club, and he seems to have made the most sensible signing of anyone so far, bringing in 20 year old Roma striker Stefano Okaka which just seems like a good move, even though I have not a clue who the guy is. He won’t cost very much and he’ll do the business won’t he.
It’s very late, but there’s just enough time to point out that Goal 7, the seventh in the popular football film series, is out now on JTW pictures, starring Landon Donovan as the American footballer who signs on loan to Everton and finds love, goals, and a crippling grit and gas crisis.

Wrap up warm!

AP