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Handel and the House of Homosexual Culture. Words by Fiona Haliday.

I must admit I’ve never been an out and out fan of the baroque. You say baroque and I see great aunts in fur wafting talcum powder. You say Handel and I see those who use ‘antiquing’ as a verb. There is, of course, beauty in Bach’s effervescing eddies. One can lose oneself in the great ormulu landscapes of Vivaldi and Pachabel and Scarlatti. But for me, the baroque is as soft and slippery and inane as Bambi slow cooked in baby oil. But to Handel I went. Reluctantly. Expected 20 Cantatas for the Happy Harpsichord.

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Blame it on the Bruckner: the Ninth Symphony

It’s hard to describe a Bruckner symphony. Imagine a Vogon Spaceship: huge and awe-inspiring but there’s probably a planning office round the back where Scherzos are signed in triplicate and the adagio (as big and soaring as a hyperspace bypass) is awaiting council red tape. It’s a place where ostinatos hang in the air like bricks don’t.

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Interview: Sin Nombre film Director Cary Fukunaga. Words Anna Leach.



Director of knuckle-gnawing thriller Sin Nombre talks to Anna Leach about danger, research and why his next film is a musical.

Studiously modest, square-jawed and possessed of a sense of social responsibility that would make Nelson Mandela proud, Cary Fukunaga is the thinking indie kid’s film-maker.

The 32-year-old Californian has just written and directed a film about immigration and gangs in central America: Mexico and Honduras. It’s called Sin Nombre and it’s out in cinemas now.

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Naomi's Style - Aug Tips



Another month of minxy dressing up with a fair dollop of recessionista chic.

The night that Camden banned //Shop Socials //1920’s Lawn Games// Reviving the Country House Party //Become a pin-up! .


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Review: 'Scottee - Eat Your Heart Out' words by Anna Leach



Hackney Empire 11th July 09

“Scottee doesn’t like it when men in wigs lip synch – so that’s what I’m gonna do” said one of Scottee Scottee’s performers in his performance art variety show Eat Your Heart Out.  

And several of them did just that. My favourite wig-wearing lip-syncher was Nando, a very skinny boy in a shirt who kept his eyes covered by an amazing fringe wig while mouthing to French opera with a magnifying glass over his lipstick-smeared lips.  

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