yppahpeek

If only science was as much fun as Portal 2! I have just finished this game and am finding it hard to imagine having fun on any other game again. Ever. From the makers of Half Life, Portal 2 shouldn't be such a surprisingly addictive, rich and fun game. Half Life provided more to gamers who were bored of blowing the limbs off of mindless AIs with the latest BFG (search for it on Urban Dictionary). Suddenly gamers were immersed in a new world, rich in both story, and real characters who popped up to carry you through the game. While the characters were all great, the science of Half Life obviously drifted into a fantastic, futuristic fantasy. However, unknown to the researchers at the fictional Black Mesa Research Facility (from Half Life), a rival company had been making break through discoveries in teleportation, and had even developed a so-called 'Portal Device'. When Valve introduced Aperture Science as a separate Science Research company into the Half Life universe they...

Leaving London feels like I've left civilisation and commonsense behind, floating away down the Thames. Since I've been "back home" a wealth of experiences has told my instincts that, actually, London is where I want to be. First of all there is the ridiculous little episode in Tesco in the centre of town. I would like you to picture the scene please. I went to Tesco with Mum, to help buy goods/carry the bags/be a great son. While there, and while walking past the beer isle I decided it would be a good idea to buy myself that six pack I promised my girlfriend. Yes, it was six pack of Budweiser, but there was no small print in the original "by the end of summer I will have a six pack" agreement, and "six pack" could mean anything ! Anyway, since I was with Mum (a respectable, tax paying adult) and since we were buying ingredients for dinner and obviously weren't going to a rave, I thought that the lack of ID would be explainable and that being s...

The towns of High Peak Junction and Dowlow are joined by a seventeen and a half mile long line. This largest of the large chalk line stretches over peaks and moors and dodges between trees, streaking past farms and ice cream factories. It is the countryside ideal summed up within seventeen and a half miles of railway-cum-cycle path. This pathway is known as The High Peak Trail and when I was 14 I rode it on a GT Palomar bicycle with one of my friends. So what? Why am I telling you this now, nearly ten years later? This bike journey has always stayed in my mind and not for the immediate good reasons normally associated with a nice amble through beautiful countryside. When I think of riding a bicycle I normally think of the discomfort; the uncomfortably damp back and the greasy hair, the flies that decide to check for tonsilitis from the inside and the runny, hayfever eyes. I remember the bicycle seat that always finds an uncomfortable place to prod, but most of all I remember how bloody...

Reading over my notes from the trip to the North West Highlands of Scotland that my family and I embarked on over a month ago I'm struck by how pretentious I sound. Now as a disclaimer, I can barely read the almost illegible knot of shapes that I wrote after half a bottle of red wine and far too many beers. The second entry in my notebook corresponds to day two of our quest through the back of beyond here, on our very own island. On this day, we walked near to our little house on the banks of Lochcarron. I remember my family with had the preoccupation of getting to the top of the jagged, molar-like hills that encased the loch. The pretentiousness makes me cringe when I read sentences like, "Why do we have to do ordinary things like getting to the top of a hill? Just enjoy walking through the alpine trees and jumping over babbling brooks!" Fuck that's bad, who did I think I was? Michael Palin? In hind sight, I think that could be the point of a trip to the Scottish Hig...

My family, or more specifically my Dad, thought it was a great idea for me to "get away and relax" during the final weeks before my finals. He decided to book a family holiday to the North West highlands of Scotland, hidden away between the Munros he booked a cottage between the dates of 3rd April -10th April. I thought I could make something out of this, so what follows is my attempt at travel blogging. There will be extracts from a trip journal and the occassional song suggestion to try to add depth to the words. 3rd April Get onto the M6, travel north. Go past Preston, go past Lancaster, keep going through Carlisle, cross the border at Gretna Green, the road changes but keep going towards Glasgow. It is so easy to get to Glasgow, to get just the smallest, tantalising taste of Scotland. But this is all (or almost all) I knew of Scotland, "the Land of my Birth". We came off the motorway and just kept travelling through the gargantuan mountains. They were so vast th...

The press release for DJ T’s Fabric mix informs me that “there are very few who can be fairly categorised as a true music lover more than ... DJ T.” and his CV is impressively filled with owning club nights, setting up labels with self confessed electronic music obsessives and creating and editing a seminal dance music magazine. The dark ambience and oppressive lyrics of the opening track provide a beautiful start to this obviously eclectic mix. The mix develops tantalisingly slowly, with more beeps, bass notes and drums being introduced in the next few tracks. Eventually, DJ T brings in a sunnier, more open ambience and at times I felt I had literally been transported to the Mediterranean via the use of tasty Mezze-style mixes of funk and Middle Eastern singing. Continuing into this record, the audaciously named “Jesus Was a B-Boy” introduces a hip hop element while still managing to keep the flow and ambience of a house mix. Unfortunately, like most fabric mixes, the vast eclecticism...

Of the two support bands, Canterbury were by far and away the best of the bunch. They provided a gig that was miles better than the “High School Battle of the Bands” performance given by their opener, Brigade. The poppy, synth laden sound of “Peace & Quiet” along with the beautifully harmonious vocals of the two singers made sure I couldn’t stop tapping my feet. As Canterbury energetically jumped around the stage for their last song, I thought that Twin Atlantic would have a hard time bettering their support’s performance. Before the headliners even made it onto the stage, an intense feedback rose, resembling a war-cry from William Wallace’s army. This noise grew and grew, creating an almost unbearably tense atmosphere. Suddenly the feedback was killed, and the opening riff of Twin Atlantic’s “You’re Turning Into John Wayne” drew whooping and cheers of satisfaction from a very excited crowd. Three songs in and “Human After All” ensured that the crowd filling the room jumped up and ...